#And she said in a tone I could not decipher if she was judging or shitting on me or not

[downfallofi]

Im all partied out after the last two days 🙃

[tired-biscuit]

how would the boys react to the reader touching herself, thinking she’s all alone in the bedroom🫠🫢(naruto, kiba, shikamaru)

18+ MDNI/fem!reader // mix of modern AU and canonverse, established relationship, reader getting caught in 4k whilst touching herself.

i'm so sorry this took me so long. hope you like it!!

𝙉𝘼𝙍𝙐𝙏𝙊

Naruto hears it before he sees it.

The breathless tone of your voice comes as a surprise for him when you pick up the phone and answer his call with a mere, “Yeah?” instead of the usual bubbly lilt that he’s gotten used to over the course of your relationship.

Out of habit, he’s called you one last time to say goodnight before his head hits the pillow and he snoozes off to dreamland, but the tone of your voice changes that initial plan in an instant. So instead, Naruto finds himself feeling awake and alert now; the upper half of his body propped up with the help of one elbow whilst his fingers fiddle with the crispy white bed sheet that seems to have become a standard for every hotel he spends the night in.

He’s miles away after all; attending a business trip for the rest of the week, and you’re panting while he’s not there with you. He can literally hear the slight tremble of every inhale and exhale you make the moment he presses his cellphone closer to his ear and just listens.

It’s feeble - so very faint - but it’s there. The slightest hitch in the back of your throat, the deeper and longer exhale than usual. Listening to you like this, Naruto wonders what on earth could you possibly be up to at nearly midnight? Come to think of it, it’s so late that he catches himself feeling more surprised that you’ve actually picked up, rather than the way you chose to do it.

It’s the reason why his teeth find home in the inside of his cheek as he asks, “Hey, baby. How come you’re still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply now, sighing. He listens in as noises that he, at best, recognizes as you tossing and turning on top of the bed he simply longs to be in at that exact moment before you finally settle and speak into the phone again, “How about you, love? Can’t sleep either?”

“Mm, no,” your boyfriend mumbles absent-mindedly, playing around with the two strings of his grey sweatpants, which you’ve packed into his suitcase so neatly just a couple of days prior. You’re still panting; still breathing deeply just like you do every time he races you up the stairs of your apartment complex, or makes you chase after him when he steals your phone like some damn toddler.

All of it certainly piques his interest.

“Aw,” you gush softly now, nudging him back into focus. “How come?”

One string wrapped around two thick fingers, Naruto finally speaks again, “I miss you too much. It’s weird sleeping completely alone, to be honest... I’m not used to it anymore.”

He swears that he can hear you groan now. This soft, little sound that makes his heart race and his blood rush through his veins at a faster rate than normal. That makes him start to sweat and turns his hand clammy in mere seconds as his grip turns tighter around the device he keeps pressing to his ear. Especially as you inhale deeply and utter, “You miss me, baby?”

“Yeah, baby,” he finds himself replying in a tone so hushed he can barely decipher all the vowels and consonants, “I do.”

Nothing but silence meets him on the other line for a couple of short moments. You’re breathing through your mouth now, so much that there’s a literal gasp lacing your voice as you question him further, “How much?”

“Like I’ve said,” he mumbles, fingers still fiddling with the string, “a lot. So much actually, that I can’t stop thinking about you. I mean, I could barely concentrate during the meeting we had today… Shikamaru was pissed because I ended up looking stupid as hell, but all I could think about was how I can’t even remember the last time we’ve been apart like this, and the fact that it makes me upset.”

“Fuck, Naru.” You whine now, and he can’t see it but judging by how deeper your voice turns, it sounds like you’re tipping your head back into the pillow as you speak from your throat: “Why do you gotta say shit like that…? You’re so–... You know.”

So honest.

“Well, you asked,” he says, feeling his brow quirk at your inability to finish your sentence. “I’m just telling you how I feel about you, pretty… I thought you liked that about me.”

“Ah,” you sigh again. “I do! Of course I do… Like it s’much, actually.”

He’s silent again. Just listens to your fast-paced breaths and the little, cutesy noises you make whilst he twirls the string around his fingers. He touches the waistband of his sweatpants at some point as it tightens around his knuckles, forcing him to repeat the action all over again.

But that's not all. Mind full with you now, Naruto is also promptly ignoring the bulge that’s turning more and more distinguishable against the thick cotton with each passing minute he spends playing with the string. Turning a blind eye at the way it twitches when he trails a single fingertip along its length just because he can; he finds it hard to concentrate on proper socialization now.

Christ, just the way you sound is enough to turn his mind hazy and his dick hard. Is he just that easy to arouse, or is his love for you that potent? Might be both?

“Baby?” Still gasping and swallowing all your vowels, you’re nudging him back to reality again as you ask, “You there?”

“Mhmmm,” you hear him hum gently, his voice nothing more but a soft lullaby that nearly strokes your ear now with love and tenderness, “I’m here, pretty. Don’t worry.”

Your heartbeat speeds up at the pet name and how willing he is at reassuring you. At how deep his voice gets whenever he’s oh, so very tired. It makes him drawl on his words in the most appealing of ways, and is nothing like the eager, boisterous way he speaks with you during the day. So you just need to make him keep talking. Need to keep listening to that wonderfully sluggish drawl, because you only get to hear it during times like these.

“What’re you doing?”

Sadly for you, Naruto keeps his answer short and rather bland, “Nothing much, you?”

But his fingertip is still tracing the ridge of his cock as he says it. Lazy, even strokes that he's still deciding on whether to prolong or not. But you don't know that, of course. You just hear his drawl and the sigh he lets out afterwards.

And now you pause whilst you eye your own hand that’s wound up in-between your legs even before he called; as well as the fingers that keep disappearing from view as you keep pushing them deeper and deeper into your needy pussy that isn’t at all satisfied with what you’re doing.

You're so frustrated. Even the vibrator didn’t help. Come to think of it, all of your toys just feel so wrong. And you know damn well what would feel right, however the trouble is that it’s unreachable from how far away it is at the moment.

You’re practically yearning for just two of his digits that’d stroke your demanding walls and curl inside you in a way that would make your toes curl just as intensely. Yearning for his mouth and tongue that love to lap up every droplet of your essence and suck at your sensitivity until you’re outright squealing from pleasure. For his cock, that would pound into you right after you’d cum the first time and would make you gush twice as hard only minutes later. 

Hell, you miss him so darn much that you’d even be satisfied with him letting you ride his thigh until the friction would make your cunt drool all over his jeans. You’re just that sexually frustrated - when he’s away, especially.

And you’re also so sad that he’s not here with you. So much, in fact, that it makes your pussy hurt from how empty it is.

“Also nothin’,” you manage to mumble finally, face blooming with warmth at the little mistruth. Shaking your head, you sink into reality by force. It’s not like he’ll know, right?

Silence greets you again. You spend it by continuing to pleasure yourself and attempting to breathe normally during it.

“Yeah?” he says all of a sudden, chuckling into the phone so darkly that it makes your skin buzz whilst a shiver tumbles down your spine. “You’re sure ‘bout that?”

“Y-Yes!” Your brows knit tightly together as you attempt to curl your fingers inside you in the same way he tends to do it, but to no avail. Even speeding up the little circles your thumb draws over your puffy clit doesn’t help. You’re absolutely drenched; lying naked and sweaty on top of the mattress he loves to fuck you on, and it’s all for nothing.

He pokes at you again, “Absolutely sure?”

“Of course, Naruto.” Irked.

Still, your boyfriend sniggers at the quiet groan of agitation you let out the moment you pull your fingers out and smear the gooey slick all over your clit instead. He doesn't know what you're doing exactly, but he has acquired a vague idea by now. You're not that smooth with it, after all - not smooth at all, actually.

It's why he sounds nearly complacent as he says,

“You don’t mind if I FaceTime you, then; do you, baby?”

𝙆𝙄𝘽𝘼

Kiba smells it before he sees it.

His senses heighten as the scent of your sweet arousal wafts to his nose the moment he steps foot inside your shared apartment. He’s come home late from his mission; finished it two days later than he’d said he would to be exact, but instead of being annoyed with the bothersome delay, he catches himself feeling needy instead. 

Why? He can smell you all over the place, after all. Strong and sweet - the scent of your pussy is quite literally everywhere, because the door that's leading to your bedroom is wide open and the smell seeps right out of it like a heavy fog of sorts.

Kiba's body is blazing. His mouth waters at the sugar as he attempts to swallow down the groan that's bubbling up his throat; sharp pupils dilating sideways until they’re so big he’d be able to see everything in the dark. Even his breathing is getting heavier as his heartbeat accelerates to the point of hurting.

The smell of your yearning for climax is potent enough that it coats his mind with a layer of fuzz that's so thick he can't think straight anymore, and it makes his skin burn hot so fast that even he’s surprised. Only seconds pass and yet his dick is already twitching with immoral anticipation. By the time he drops the heavy backpack off of his stiff shoulders and starts walking down the hall, it seems that his cock is doing all the thinking for him already.

He hasn’t fucked you in a while. And he’s tired; simply exhausted from the stupid mission that’s kept him away from you for so fucking long, but he can’t bring himself to care about that. Not now.

Because as soon as he approaches the doorway of your bedroom and rests one shoulder against its frame, he can’t just smell you, but he can see you as well. 

And he can also hear you panting as he watches you pleasure yourself on top of the bed he’s longed to sleep on for the last three weeks. Your legs are splayed so wide apart that you're completely exposed to his wandering, albeit just as hungry gaze. Holy fuck, you look so pretty like this; all needy and driven mad with lust because you're so clearly aching for him. He’s missed you so much.

And it's rather uncharacteristic for Kiba, but he takes a moment to appreciate the sight. To just take you in; all tender and raw, because in your delirious state, you haven't even managed to pick up on his presence yet.

The reason for it might be because your eyes are screwed shut in visible frustration. He can tell that you’re unable to make yourself cum just by how agitated your little moans sound, as well as the fervour you're fingering yourself with, after all. 

You're knuckles-deep in your pretty pussy, thumb pressing against your puffy clit in clumsy circles as your brow furrows in response to the too-mellow pleasure that never feels right anymore. Gosh, no matter what you do, your digits just aren't enough. They aren't as long and thick as his own are, and they don't curl in the same manner his own can. They don't go as deep. Aren't able to stroke that sweet spot you’re trying so hard to reach now.

And for fuck's sake, he can’t take it. Looking as helpless as you do, he needs to take care of you now. Now, now, now. Fuck you like an animal; all raw and fast and rough.

“Missed me that much, huh, pretty?”

His voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin the moment it meets your ears inside the dark bedroom, but before you can even scream in terror, he's already on you; palm clamped over your mouth so tight that you can’t even get a squeak out.

It takes you long moments to realize who you’re looking at. Nothing but his heavy breathing fills the hot air between you as you keep staring at each other and he slowly moves his palm from your panting mouth when he’s absolutely sure you won’t make noise. The room is so dark that half of his face is covered in shadows but his eyes are still as fierce as ever. All sharp around the edges and messy-haired, he’s nothing short of a brute. That’s definitely your moron of a boyfriend, all right.

“Idiot,” you whisper-shout, “y-you told me you were going to be-”

“C’mon, lemme in,” he interrupts quietly, way too hot and impatient to endure your scolding now. He’s already dipping in to spread your legs further apart when you attempt to protest from how embarrassed you are that he’s caught you in an act so lewd. 

Having him so close, you begin to acknowledge that he smells like the forest he's spent three weeks sleeping in. Like the smoke from the campfire and the moss on the ground, as well as the cheap soap from the inn he's spent the nights bathing in; the musky aroma turns you dazed and soft until you’re resembling nothing but body-temperature putty in his hands.

By the time one slips between your legs to make enough space for his head, you're already drunk on the scent and the path of kisses he’s paving down your stomach. The ends of his chestnut hair tickle your skin so pleasantly that you can’t help but giggle now.

“What's so funny?” His mouth is so close to your cunt that you can feel his warm exhale brush your clit now. Covered in arousal, the breath sends a shiver tumbling down your spine.

“You scared me,” you mumble softly as he places your legs on top of his shoulders and his rough hands find the back of your thighs so that he can manhandle you into position. Goodness, his touch feels so hot that it nearly makes your skin sizzle. “You should have called out, or something...”

“M’sorry. You smelled so good that it kind of messed me up... I couldn't think,” he admits, sounding like he actually means it this time. “How 'bout I fuck you with my tongue as an apology? Yeah, pretty?”

Oh, wow.

𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙆𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙐

Shikamaru feels it before he sees it.

He’s lying in bed on his side; with his back turned towards you the moment that first hitched sigh brushes his ear and your elbow nudges his shoulder blade seemingly by accident at first.

But accident or not, the brown-haired Nara still stirs awake in an instant at the touch. Parting his heavy eyelids feels like a chore he doesn’t wish to tend to at the moment - or any moment, whatsoever - but he still wills the bothersome weight away by fluttering them open and letting his pupils dilate in the dark as they help him take in his surroundings easier. 

The room is warm. It’s the middle of summer and shadows seep inside the space and dance over the walls only with the late hour which he was supposed to be spending in deep slumber. You’ve both kicked the thin covers off of your sweat-riddled bodies ages ago, he can see the duvet pooling at his feet and over the edge of the bed, but it does nothing with beating the hazy heat that’s dropped down upon you like a thick fog of sorts.

And yet; a certain kind of chill still manages to rush down the entire length of Shikamaru’s spine, despite that the room is so hot that it feels like you’re both stuck inside a fully-working oven. Because now, he feels your warm skin brush his own as the mattress dips deeper from the subtle tossing and turning you’re trying to accomplish, and he experiences that chill again as it trickles down his neck the moment your knee rests on his hip when you spread your legs wider apart.

The sensation rounds the curve of his side and nestles deep inside his gut now. The moment the realization sinks in, it is already taken the form of pure thrill.

You're being naughty.

And so, Shikamaru swallows harshly at the thought to cross his mind. He’s fully-awake now; alert and free from the fuzzy chains of sleep that have a tendency to hold his brain hostage on the norm. The spit he forces down his throat isn’t audible. Or so he thinks. 

Perhaps he’s just incapable of hearing it over the sound of his own racing heartbeat and the blood that’s rushing straight into his ears. It might as well be that.

But he can hear it now, too. These deep breaths that you’re attempting to inhale and exhale through your nose instead of your mouth. The occasional whisper of a naughty word and this lewd, wet sort of sound that doesn’t require a genius to comprehend what it actually is.

For once, he can't stay still anymore. So he sucks in a deep breath and feels your body freeze the moment he exhales that same inhale through his mouth. He groans with content; all deep and raspy whilst pretending to stretch his long limbs that are always so very tired, before he presses his palm flat against the mattress and uses the momentum to flip himself around.

His hair is down instead of being tied up in that signaturely spiky ponytail; the colour dark like ebony wood but smooth-looking like midnight silk. A strand of it sticks to his forehead as he looks at you through sleepy, hooded eyes - reminding you of a thin crack of void in the middle of the pale, porcelain-like surface that is his skin. You lick your lips as you stare at him in the dark now, your own eyes growing wide open.

He grins at you lazily as soon as the eye contact is made, barely showing you any teeth. Even the smile is enticingly droopy just like his entire demeanor tends to be. How enticing.

Still, you don’t say anything despite the warm grin, and Shikamaru doesn’t seem to mind it – just like he doesn’t mind most things that happen in his life. Your boyfriend is as easy-going as ever, and his voice is nothing but a low drawl as it reaches your ears; right after he purses his lips and blows the lock of hair from his face in a single puff, “Mm... What are you up to?”

God, you’re so tense because of the seemingly simple question he presents before you that it’s almost funny in a way. He can literally see the stiffness that overtakes your entire body in the way your jaw clicks shut, as well as the way you just lay there; all straight and still as a plank of wood nobody has bothered to pick up. Every breath you take is ragged. It makes your chest heave quite visibly in that white, thin tank top that you like to wear to bed on hot nights like these.

He can see your nipples poking against the light cotton. Just two pretty numbs that seem to harden underneath his keen eyes in the colour of rich coffee. Oh goodness, you’re adorable.

The smart-ass smirk that is forcing its way onto his lips because of it is hard to hide now. Especially as he adds a rather derisive, “Well?”

“Nothing,” you squeak out at long last, your voice the definition of flustered panic and the nervosity of getting caught. Fumbling with your hand which you’ve still got stuck underneath the waistband of your flimsy pyjama shorts, you’re attempting to ignore the heat of embarrassment that sears your face to almost a painful degree as you attempt to pull it out, out, out.

But Shikamaru works faster than you for once. Cool, slender digits wrap around your wrist the moment the waistband snaps back into place, and your hand becomes free. It’s dark inside the room, but he can still see the glimmer that coats your fingers because of the glow from the street light just outside his window. Can see the sticky arousal that is practically drooling down your finger pads now.

Oh, you really have been so very naughty, indeed.

And the silence is deafening. Your heart is ready to climb up your throat and just knock your front teeth out by this point.

After all, the moment his dark brow quirks in blatantly sinful amusement, you’re ready to bury yourself six feet under. Nothing but a mess of yelps and unfinished sentences begins to leave your mouth as you attempt to apologize and explain yourself for being so stupidly horny.

So much for being sneaky and subtle about this entire ordeal. You should have known better, and now you’re paying the price by listening to his smug chuckle and watching the mischievous glint start to appear in those sleepy eyes of his.

And Shikamaru; sleepy, lazy Shikamaru, listens for a while, just because it's fun. You're pure chaos - nearly teary-eyed, lips trembling, and so sweaty that your entire face is glowing as you beg him to forget about this entire thing. And then, when he's finally had enough of listening to your erratic pleas for forgiveness, he shuts you up by bringing your smaller fingers to his mouth and kissing each finger pad so softly, that it feels like a touch of a feather had just grazed your skin.

He makes the waterfall of apologies outright cease when he wraps his plush lips around one digit and strokes it with the tip of his tongue, then. Just barely there to be considered as present, the feeling of his warm saliva turns your breathing slightly irregular when he repeats the same action with another digit and just sucks them both inside his mouth not a moment later.

He's never done anything like this before. But to be fair: neither have you.

“Sh-Shikamaru,” you whisper his name, voice shaking like a leaf on the surface of a rowdy river, “wh-what are you-...? Nnh...”

“This doesn’t look like nothing to me, darling.” Musing like a curious cat at the shock that crosses your face as soon as his lips part from your fingers with another gentle kiss and flick of tongue, his voice resembles a purr, which you swear that you can feel vibrating inside your very skull. Especially as he turns your wrist to the other side gently, and shoves your fingers into your own mouth so that you can finish the job he’s started.

His lips are right next to your ear as he watches you do it; broad palm already sneaking underneath that tiny top he likes seeing you wear around him,

“And it doesn’t taste like nothing either, now does it?”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Honor and Espionage Part One

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 3284

Summary: The newest member of the team is abruptly introduced to Aramis’ wife- a high-ranking spy for the Musketeers who may be in over her head on her new assignment.

Notes: The chokehold that Aramis has on me is unreal. I love this man to the ends of the earth. Also, I had to make another Les Mis reference. Expect a lot of them in these imagines. 

Warning: Mild violence, some steaminess, the usual for these boys

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

D’Artagnan still didn’t understand why they were there to begin with. The assignment made sense enough. Gather information, don’t approach the targets, and try not to cause any fights while at it. But the four of them had sat in the noisy tavern for hours now and there was no sign of anyone remotely resembling the treacherous representative of Savoy they were meant to spy on. 

“What if he doesn’t show up?” He whispered to the man across the table.

Aramis raised a brow. “Do you doubt Treville’s intel?” He smirked with his usual teasing mischief and patted the younger man on the arm. “Don’t worry, D’Artagnan. I’m sure our patience will be rewarded with at least something interesting.” 

He gazed over at the man Ambassador Laurent was supposed to be meeting- presumably to discuss secret information regarding the King’s plans of trade with Spain. The well-dressed middle-man bellowed flirtations to the woman whose back was turned to them, his face reddened with how much wine she’d brought him. Judging by the disinteresting angle of her head, his efforts were very much wasted. 

Then the woman stood and said something they couldn’t quite hear, but made Aramis’s brows furrow. She drew her hood up over her curled hair and slinked out of the tavern through the back entrance. The man stretched his arms and walked over to the counter to order another drink. 

D’Artagnan’s brain rushed around dozens of thoughts and settled on the possibility that the mystery woman could have been working with the ambassador. If not, she may have heard something of interest from the drunk and could be passing it on to another party, possibly even worse than the ambassador. 

“I’m going to go see where she’s off to,” D’Artagnan said.

“Wait-” Aramis started, but the young man was already halfway across the room. 

Aramis let the woman’s voice echo in his head. He may not have heard her words, but he knew that tone. He knew the curve of her neck and the curl of her pinned-up hair. But before he could follow D’Artagnan, and thus the woman, Athos’s instruction prevented him. 

“He’s here,” Athos hissed, motioning with his eyes for Aramis to remain where he was. Sure enough, the betraying bastard waltzed into the tavern with a grin on his face and an arrogant air about him. So, despite his nerves itching for him to move, Aramis remained while D’Artagnan sought out the cloaked woman. 

D’Artagnan moved without a sound down the alley behind the tavern, eyes scanning for the slightest motion to reveal where the woman had gone. A flash of cape caught the lamplight. He followed. The suspicious air about her exit further confirmed his suspicion that she was not just another bar wench looking for extra funds. Something else was certainly afoot. 

Inside, a roar of commotion stopped him in his tracks. He tried to decipher what the frantic people inside were shouting and could make out one word. 

“Poison!” 

He stepped forward and felt something metal touch the back of his neck. A click rang through the dark. 

“Don’t take another step.” An arm snaked around his neck and the barrel of the pistol moved to his chin. The woman spoke close to his ear. “Who sent you? Who knows about me?” 

“Madam, I assure you, I don’t know what you’re-”

She tightened her hold on his neck. “Do not play me for a fool, sir.”

The tavern’s occupants poured out of the front door in a panic. The Ambassador returned to his carriage and disappeared. 

Both D’Artagnan and the woman sighed with the same frustration. “Damn.” 

D’Artagnan’s brow furrowed in confusion. The woman stiffened. 

“Do you work for the ambassador?” She hissed. 

“Do you?” 

Another click cut off their conversation. 

“Let the boy go.” 

The woman turned, spinning D’Artagnan along with her. Her arm around his neck twitched and her tone changed with surprise. 

“Porthos?”

The Musketeer let his pistol fall to his side. “Y/N?” 

“You two know each other?” D’Artagnan squeaked, the pistol still pressed to his head making him increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Y/N.” 

Your heart fluttered, any semblance of control now betrayed by your excitement. You let your arm fall away from the young man’s chest and turned back around, facing the opening of the alley. There, caught in the lamplight, dark eyes glistened with adoring astonishment and a smile played across his lips. 

You gasped. “Aramis?” 

Forgetting where you were and the threat you’d just posed upon his compatriot, you dashed across the space dividing you and through your arms around him. His hands cupped your face as if making sure it was really you and pulled your lips to his. 

D’Artagnan, still breathless and reeling, whirled his head back and forth, from Porthos, to the couple, back to Porthos, back to the couple. 

“Would someone like to explain why Aramis is in the arms of the woman who just tried to kill me?” He exclaimed. 

“You followed me,” you quipped, taking a step forward in confrontation. Aramis tsked and held you back with an arm around your waist. 

“We were simply unaware of your being here, darling, otherwise I imagine things would have gone very differently.” He purred and pressed another kiss to your cheek before turning back to the younger trainee. “D’Artagnan.” He held out a hand to him, then to you. “Allow me to introduce Y/N D’Herblay, Captain of the Musketeers Covert Intelligence, and,” he held you tighter, “my wife.” 

D’Artagnan clamped his mouth shut to prevent his jaw from dropping in surprise. The smooth-talking Musketeer was married?

Horse’s shrill protests echoed down the street as the ambassador’s carriage tried to cut through the crowd of people trying to find out what happened. You laid a hand on your husband’s chest and urged him deeper into the shadows. 

“Perhaps we should continue this introduction elsewhere, else my cover will be revealed,” you said. 

He nodded and led you back into the tavern with a hand on the small of your back. 

D’Artagnan, mouth now agape, watched the two of you go. 

“But-” 

“Come on,” Porthos huffed, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him inside. 

-

While Athos and Porthos dealt with the poisoned man you’d just met with, the other two Musketeers secured a private room in order to keep you hidden from any other investigating parties. Aramis’s hand never left yours, leading you and the man you’d nearly killed upstairs. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, darling,” you said once the door was shut behind you. “But what are you all doing here?”

“We could ask the same thing,” D’Artagnan exclaimed. 

You scoffed. “This is my assignment.” You turned an angry gaze on your husband. “Who is this?” Your voice rang through the room. Aramis held up his hands to try and calm you. 

“A moment, dear.” His charming smile was betrayed by anxiety in his eyes. “We mustn't lose our heads. There is a dead man downstairs.” 

“That she likely killed!” D’Artagnan quickly regretted his words, receiving warning glares from both of them. 

You let out a low sigh and removed your cloak, pacing across the small room. It was only then that Aramis saw how your hands shook. 

“I didn’t kill Baffier, I was using him to get closer to the ambassador.” 

Aramis nodded. “And you think Laurent killed him to prevent him from passing on information?” 

You looked at him with wide eyes and a fear that shot through his heart. 

“I don’t think the poison was meant for him.” 

Aramis’s face fell. Unable to bear the loving worry in his eyes, you turned to the open window to breathe in the night air. 

“You think Laurent knows about you?” D’Artagnan asked. Aramis was at your side in seconds, taking your hand in his.

“It’s ridiculous,” you sighed. “My life has been threatened countless times-”

“Countless times?” Aramis exclaimed. You raised a brow. “Sorry, love. Continue.” 

Your breathing turned shaky and you looked away again. “But to have someone die in my place…” 

Aramis lifted your chin with his finger, eyes alight and staring deeply into yours. 

“If you think your position has been compromised, then it is too dangerous for you to remain here. We must return you to Paris immediately.” 

You shook your head and pushed away from him. “All Laurent knows is my name. Thanks to Baffier- God rest his soul- I now have an invitation to a very important dinner where I will hopefully learn the extent of the ambassador's plans.” 

“You can’t be serious,” your husband exasperated. “We have no way of knowing if all he knows is your name. Baffier could very well have been the one to sell you out, or even poison you!” Deep brown eyes pleaded with yours. “You cannot continue.” 

“Fortunately, dear, you are not the one who gives me orders,” you snapped. “This dinner has been what Treville and I have been working toward for months. I’m not going to let a small threat get in the way.”

“I doubt the dead man downstairs would agree with your assessment of this threat level!” He shouted, more out of panic than of anger. 

“She’s right, Aramis.” Athos, having come from the havoc downstairs, closed the door behind him as he entered.  “A barmaid confessed to mixing Y/N’s drink and that Baffier accidentally drank from the wrong cup.” He crossed the room to the couple and spoke again before Aramis could interject. “But she cannot surrender the opportunity to get the closest to Laurent we’ve ever been.” 

“But you’ve just said it!” Aramis exclaimed. “One attempt has already been made on her life. How is that possibly not enough to convince Treville sending her would be a mistake.” 

“The barmaid said that it was Baffier who threatened her into poisoning Y/N’s wine,” Athos said. “He hadn’t the chance to reveal the truth about her to Laurent because the fool fell on his own sword. Y/N’s mission will go on as planned.” 

Aramis stepped forward, but you took his arm to calm him. 

Athos turned to you. “When are you set to leave for the ambassador’s estate?” 

“Day after next,” you answered, hand still on your husband’s shoulder. The lie formed a necessary lump in your throat. You just needed to buy yourself some time.  “The dinner is to celebrate his success as an advisor to the king.” Your last words were thick with irony. 

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to prepare and we’ll have plenty of time to ensure you aren’t walking into a trap.” Athos nodded and headed back for the door. He motioned for D’Artagnan to follow. “Everything is taken care of downstairs. The local authorities are taking Baffier and the barmaid.” A small smile crept onto his lips as he looked between the two of you. “And the room is paid for through the night. We’ll reconvene at dawn.” 

The two men left and the room fell into a tense silence. You began to pace again. 

“We agreed when we married that we wouldn’t interfere with each other’s work,” you sighed. “I know it isn’t easy. Lord knows how many nights I’ve spent wondering if you were alive or dead.” You stopped, feet firm on the ground and head high. “But I have to do this. It may be the only way to know the extent of Laurent’s plans.” 

Aramis closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and returned his gaze to yours. 

“I know.” 

You were taken aback. Frankly, you hadn’t expected the argument to be over so quickly. Usually, the two of you could debate from dusk til dawn. But Aramis knew that when your mind was set, there was no changing it. Still, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins forced your tongue. 

“I still don’t understand what you are doing here to begin with. Treville can’t have sent you to keep an eye on me, he trusts me more than that. I wonder-”

Aramis stopped you with a kiss. 

“My love,” he started, breathing a sigh against your lips. “We haven’t seen each other in weeks. I had hoped our reunion would be a little less argumentative.” Soothing hands traveled up and down your spine. He moved his kisses along your collarbone. 

“In all of the fuss, I’d almost forgotten how much I missed you,” you laughed, tangling your fingers in his chocolate-colored locks. 

As suspected, the room- and your adrenaline- were put to very good use. 

-

Aramis woke to an empty bed and for a moment a wave of panic rushed over him. He sat straight up and called out your name before he saw the sun outside his window and remembered Athos’ instructions from the night before. Ease comforted him, but only for a moment. He remembered why you were here in the first place and a new set of worries filled his mind. 

“You’re late.” Porthos peaked through a crack in the door. “May I come in? Are the two of you decent?” 

Aramis let out a deep sigh. “It’s just me. Y/N must have already gone downstairs.” 

Porthos swung the door open. Perplexion painted his features. 

“No, she hasn’t.” 

The two exchanged a glance of frustrated understanding and Aramis hurried to collect his clothes. 

“I should have known,” he muttered. 

“Why would she have taken off?” Porthos asked. “We’re here to help her.” 

Aramis secured his trousers and pulled his billowing shirt over his head. He grabbed the rest of his belongings and met his fellow musketeer at the door with a scowl. 

“Exactly.” 

Porthos held out an arm to stop him. “What’s that?” He jerked his chin at the table beside the bed where a small roll of paper sat with a ribbon tied around it. Aramis picked it up and held the thin fabric between his fingers. You’d worn it in your hair the night before. The parchment contained a single sentence written in your delicate handwriting. 

“I have to do this,” Aramis read with a grimace. He crumpled the page in his fist and gave a ferocious glare to his companion. 

“Don’t look at me,” Porthos huffed. “You’re the one that married her.” 

Aramis shoved past him and thundered down the stairs where Athos and D’Artagnan were waiting. Athos turned and his face fell with confusion to see only the two men descending. It took only a moment and a glance at Aramis’s fiery and frantic expression to understand. 

“She’s going alone, isn’t she?” He sighed. He ran a hand down his face. “I suspected this may happen. That’s why I secured the room, so that you may keep an eye on her.” Athos glared pointedly at your husband. 

“I assure you, if I had known her plot I would have tied her down,” Aramis said. Porthos raised a brow, earning a smack. “Not like that, you idiot.” 

D’Artagnan, who’d been silent until now, coughed and looked guiltily down at the floor. “She left around 5:00 this morning.” 

Aramis had his hand on his collar in a flash. “You saw her leave and didn’t think to, I don’t know, wake me?” 

“Actually,” D’Artagnan gulped. “I spoke to her.” 

“I fail to see how that helps you in this instance.”

“I let her go because she’s right.” The younger man gently removed Aramis’s hands from his shirt and took a cautious step back. “If the ambassador so much as theorizes that we may be onto him, it would be much more dangerous for her than if she were to simply go alone.”

“Then why did Treville send us if he's the one that assigned her?” Porthos asked. 

“He sent us to find out who Laurent was meeting and why, not to infiltrate his likely well-guarded home,” Athos said. He thought for a moment, noting Aramis’s chest heave with his breathing. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t observe from afar just in case anything goes amiss. Laurent’s estate will take nearly all day to reach. We should leave now.” 

Aramis was the first to the door, but he was stopped by the youngest member of their group. 

“What now?” He hissed. 

D’Artagnan reached a hand into his pocket and held something in his fist. “She was afraid it would be too dangerous to have on her person and asked me if you’d look after it for her.” 

He opened his hand, a small band of gold sitting in his gloved palm. Aramis picked it up. The inscription glittered in the morning sunlight and pierced his heart. 

L’amour Vainc Tout. 

Love conquers all. 

He brought the ring to his lips and muttered a prayer against the metal that you were right. 

-

The carriage jostled, worsening the nerves that twisted your stomach. You took a deep breath and attempted to clear your mind. Whispers of the night before teased your memory, the phantom of Aramis’s lips still burning your skin. You glanced out of the window at the French countryside, nearing the Savoyan border. 

He’d be awake now, worried and probably furious. No. Definitely furious. You could see his fuming face now as the other musketeers likely tried to calm him. The younger one- D’Artagnan- would hopefully have told them what you’d said to convince him to let him go. Athos would see the logic and would prevent your husband from acting rashly and storming Laurent’s estate. 

You hoped. 

Either way, by the time they arrived, you would be well into your mission of charming Laurent and his rich companions to gather the information Treville needed in order to sway the king’s opinion on Laurent and his treachery. 

“If I could halt all the violence in the world so we didn’t have to do what we do, I would,” Aramis had whispered as you laid together in the darkness of the night before. 

You’d laughed against his chest. “No, you wouldn’t.” In between words, you had kissed up the length of his neck until you reached his lips. “Because neither of us would know what to do with ourselves if we didn’t have something to fight for.” 

Aramis remained in your thoughts for the rest of the journey, though when you saw the grand house come out from over the hill, you forced his smile to the back of your mind and, like a lever in your chest, switched on your flattering facade that allowed you to do your work with a smile. Ever the perfect spy. 

Your legs ached from the hours of travel and you took a moment to stretch them as you stepped out of the carriage and onto the stone path that stretched through the front gardens and up to the ambassador’s mansion. The sun had already started to dip below the horizon and servants lit candles in the parlor. 

“This way, Madame…” The butler began. 

“Mademoiselle de Valjean,” you beamed. You took the invitation you’d procured from Baffier and handed it to him with a graceful motion. “I’m a close friend of the Duchess of Savoy and I’m just dying to make the ambassador’s acquaintance.” 

“I’m sure you are.” A new voice sounded from the shadows. A maid lit another candle and revealed a dazzling pair of hazel eyes alight in the flame. She put on a smile that matched your own as you hid your surprise well. The woman you only knew as Milady de Winter crossed the parlor and took your hands in hers. “Madame de Valjean, how lovely it is to see you again.” She said your false name with a knowing glint in her eye. 

This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

-

[welcometosector1]

𝙱𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜: 𝙿𝚝.𝟻

tw: kidnapping.

11:00 pm.

Seonghwa had let himself down the vent, trusting himself in the knots he tied on some pipes on the roof. His holo was dimly lit as he listened to Yeosang direct him towards the part of the vent that wouldn’t be seen by the cameras in the room – though, it’s not like Yeosang wouldn’t shut the cameras down for him to nab the implant anyway. Yeosang was directing him, the only thing yeosang saying to the older man being “left”, “right”, and the occasional “stop’. Other than that – radio silence.

As he crawled around in this small metal maze, and finally made it to the room; he arrived a minute earlier than expected, so he continued to where the guards were about to go on break, watching their mannerisms, watching how they act and how they interact; Seonghwa was able to decipher how they would act if they were to find him. Hwa was confident that these two knuckleheads would act first think later – that is, if they were capable of thought. BioBastion Inc., behind the scenes, was given under-the-table funding from their government for military research and implant development. This research and development included everything under the sun; human testing, torture, and even going as far as to change genetic makeups to create compumania, which was a kind of cyberpsychosis.

Compumania is a more developed, parasitic form of cyberpsychosis, creating a whole new person through the use of implants. When someone replaces their entire body – no organic matter – with cybernetic implants, it rips them into bits and feeds off of what they used to be. While it is still a dissociative disorder, it also affects their physical.

Seonghwa had been caught up in watching the two before he realized it was a minute off from their break, so he slid backwards in the vent, happy he was flexible enough to get back to his original position. He watched how the guards checked the lock when they went back to their position at the door and he looked around, noting how silent the room was. Seonghwa was thankful he had an infrared scanner built into his holo, just in case – Yunho truly thinks of everything.

His H.U.D read 11:10 pm, and as he expected, he was able to get down with no trouble. He got the signal from Yeosang that all the cameras would be off for two minutes before their systems caught it – kind of pathetic coming from a multimillion-dollar company. Yeosang was just that good.

“Two minutes.” Yeosang said through the holo.

Seonghwa skillfully removed the cover without making a sound and was able to drop down, expecting the room to be empty.

It wasn’t.

Where the schematics said there was going to be a pedestal, but instead, there was a procedure chair that had a body on it. A frail, small body. The body of a young girl (around 3 years old) in a hospital gown. Near her comatose body, he saw notes from what he was assuming would be the head researcher and doctors. She had the implant already attached. Judging by the notes, she was completely artificial, except the rosy fake skin that covered all the mechanical parts they built her out of.

Usually, something like this would go back to Hongjoong, but he was unreachable. Then the command would go to Seonghwa. “What do I do…?”

Fuck, they needed this implant.

This was the only time Seonghwa spoke to Yeosang. “The implant is in the girl.” Because of the time constraint, he panicked.

“Your choice, Hwa, but if we don’t get this implant, it sets us back 6 months.”

Fuck.

“One minute, by the way.”

After looking over the notes and the girl, he made his decision. From what he could tell (again, thank you Yunho (who would ever think of something like this?)), she had no tracker in her. Seonghwa stuffed all the notes he could find into a discarded document envelope and picked up the girl – she was as light as a feather; must be some sort of magnesium alloy.

“Thirty seconds, Hwa. You need to get out,” Yeosang said through the holo, his tone getting more and more worried each second. And so, he did. Seonghwa managed to keep her from falling off his back as he jumped, lifting the two of them through the vents again. He had to scale up through the vents again, and he had to do it silently, while staying as flat as he could so he didn't do any harm to the little one on his back. She couldn't be more than three years old.

'Fuck. Shit. Ass.' He mentally cursed with every movement, and he hurried himself up with the countdown that was ringing in his holo. He managed to get to the rope he had to climb up, and he brought the baby in front of him as best as he could, grabbing it before he climbed up it, using his long legs to shuffle him up.

10.

'Fuck.'

9.

'Fuck.'

8.

'Fuck.'

7.

'Fuck.'

6.

'Fuck.'

5.

'Fuck.'

4.

'Fuck.'

3.

'Fuck.'

2.

'Fuck. I'm gonna have Yeosang's head after this.'

1.

At the last moment, Seonghwa pulled the two up and out, panting heavily as he scurried to his feet. "I got the implant. And a little extra. I'm gonna need help with the extraction." Seonghwa had murmured into his holo, looking over the toddler. He saw a marking at the side of her neck.

3-ch.0-v1.

3-ch.0.

Echo.

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[ironheartedfae]

Timing: Current Location: A convenience store Feat: @declinlalune & @ironheartedfae Warnings: none! Summary: The clerk at a local convenience store thinks Ren is stealing, Andy steps in to help.

Andy threw the peach rings into her basket before swinging around to the other side of the aisle. She scanned the rows of cardboard and plastic before finally finding what it was she was looking for. She dropped the item next to the rest of her haul and only looked up as somebody raised their voice from the front of the store. 

I know you took it. Empty out your pockets. Now. 

The shopkeeper’s tone did not sound pleased. As Andy rounded the corner towards the front, she saw a young girl standing there with a pinched expression. Andy didn’t give a damn if this girl had actually committed petty theft. Who was she to judge? Stealing was how she and Alex had made a living anyway. 

In an attempt to get closer in case she needed to diffuse the situation, Andy began to loiter at a neighboring end cap, looking over the variety of multivitamins. The shopkeeper continued asking for the girl to empty her pockets, and Andy felt a surge of frustration. She thought about the woman who had intervened when Andy had gotten caught, and how she had lied through her teeth– something about being her’s and Alex’s older sister, and that they would never steal. 

She bit the inside of her cheek before turning around, staring down the man. “Why are you harassing my sister? She didn’t steal anything.” They could pass as siblings– both wearing a smattering of freckles and red hair, even if the stranger’s was cropped short. 

—

All Ren wanted to do was try. Try using that money thing that Emilio kept going on about, try buying something for a change instead of only ever fishing for not so moldy things in between banana peels and god knows what else found its way into a Wicked’s Rest dumpster. The nymph had been excited even. A chance to test out her newly acquired skills in friendliness. 

Apparently the shopkeeper didn’t care for the tactic. The man took one look at Ren’s raggedy outfit, listened to her sad excuse for a compliment, and mistook the ‘smile’ for a strange grimace. Put it all together and there you have it. A kid who was up to no good. The little redhead had spent a decent amount of time trying to decipher which of the snacks in the aisle was the exact kind Van had supplied her with the other night, which one had the strangely sweet and sour flavor. The one they said was fruit flavored but certainly was not. The shopkeep took this deliberation time as another act of delinquency. 

So he started yelling. 

All at once Ren was so small again. Was being chided for something she hadn’t even done. At first she tried to protest. Be open to conversation as it were. But that only raised his voice and added more fire to his tone until– 

Sister?? Her mouth must have dropped open. Ren felt like words were coming up, protest, but something caught her. The other girl’s look. It was similar enough to her own, but– there was no fae tug. Did she know something Ren did not? Had she been watching the nymph? How long had she– Was any of this even possible– 

Oh. It was… probably a lie. But… why? 

— 

The man glared at the two, cheeks rouge from the obvious discontent. 

I don’t give a shit if she’s your sister. She stole. 

Andy looked at the girl again, brow raised. She didn’t look like a thief, but most people didn’t. Andy stopped herself from telling the man that she didn’t care if something was stolen, because that would potentially only make things worse, and she doubted that was what they needed anyway. 

“You’re mistaken. She didn’t steal a damn thing.” Andy stepped closer to the girl, putting herself between the two. The man smelled like overly saturated cologne and it hurt her nose. “What do you think she stole? What did she take?” 

The man stammered, the red deepening across the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones. 

Well I– I don’t know, but I saw her put something in her pocket! 

If it were Alex, Andy would have dug into her pockets for her, but this was a stranger. A stranger that Andy was pretending to be the sister of. She looked over at the girl. “You didn’t steal anything, so you don’t need to show him the inside of your pockets if you don’t want to, but if it’ll get you,” she looked back to the man, frown deepening, “back the hell off, then is that what she needs to do to get you to lay off?” 

—

It made no sense. Absolutely none of it did. The stranger who kind of looked like Ren insisting she was related, or the shop owner’s need to see the inside of her pockets. There was a stagnant hesitation as Ren processed through all that was being said. As the shock of being screamed at like she was back at the compound wore back into a dull ache rather than a paralyzing poison. Shaking hands (the only part of her that wasn’t stone still) moved from her sides to reverse the nearly empty pockets in both Emilio’s second jacket that he’d given her, and the shorts she’d pulled from a dumpster outside of some big box store. 

Crumpled papers with unsatisfactory drawings, a wadded up ten dollar bill, some coins that were not even American currency, a tiny vial of holy water that Emilio had left in the jacket by accident, and lint. Nothing special. Nothing to be accused over. Nothing they even sold in the store. Luckily, Ren didn’t keep her knives in her pockets. No, those were in the sleeves. Safely tucked away where they didn’t even leave a bulge or anything. 

Ren had been trying so hard to be a statue she’d forgotten to breathe entirely. Now, she could go without inhaling for a bit longer than the average kid her size, but the hungry gasp she tried to hide still wouldn’t go unnoticed. Still, she couldn’t speak, so she just had to let the stranger do it for her. 

— 

Andy watched the man’s expression devolve into something akin to embarrassment. Satisfaction colored her tone as she spoke. “See, there isn’t anything. I see the money she would have paid you with, but that’s it.” There were some other things, but those didn’t matter. Whatever the man thought he had seen wasn’t there. If the girl had pulled out something that she’d stolen, Andy would have had to dig for some excuse. 

It was clear that the situation had startled the girl and Andy felt a surge of guilt that she hadn’t intervened sooner. She had been in the other’s shoes more times than she could count. At least, until she’d gotten better at stealing. The man continued to stammer, throwing his hands in the air before turning around. The back of his neck was red, too, and Andy genuinely hoped he’d carry the embarrassment with him for the rest of the day. 

“Asshole,” Andy muttered under her breath as he went back to the register. She looked back at the girl who stood there as if some kind of statue. “You okay?” Andy tried her best to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What did you need? I can get it for you.” The girl had money, but by the state of her, something told Andy that maybe it was all she had. “Some of this is buy one get one, anyway.” 

— 

“I uh–” One thing about Wicked’s Rest, for all its strangeness, for all the monsters it housed, there were so many people ready and willing to lend a hand. Ren had no idea the outside world would be like this. In fact, she had been brought up to believe almost the opposite. Darya had made her a perfect soldier, one who wouldn’t question orders or think too deeply about the fact that she was set out to kill her own kind. Each day out in the open was a test of her loyalty, because everything out here seemed to contradict the older woman’s teachings. 

“Was gummied worms.” It was probably a good thing that Ren had not spoken more than a few words to the shopkeeper, he might have noticed the thick accent that clung to every statement, and how she so often misused words, ordered them wrong, or applied suffixes that didn’t quite belong. “Soured ones.” 

The night with the others had been a whole different flavor of strange. If Ren hadn’t excused herself at ten to go walk Perro, she might have stayed the entire night. But instead, she returned to the sorry excuse for a shelter out in the woods. Dreams of citric acid covered sweets dancing like sugar plums around her head. A feeling of belonging she never dreamed of having. And the guilt that it inspired too. 

— 

“Gummied worms?” The girl had an accent that Andy didn’t recognize. It wasn’t her job to pick her apart, she decided. “Sour gummy worms… got it.” Andy offered the girl a smile, this time with it reaching her eyes, before she turned towards the aisle with the candy. “You should try peach rings, too. They’re good.” She plucked one of each from the shelf, dropping them into the basket next to her other items. “You have good taste, though. Candy is a good choice.” 

The girl was a little on the thinner side, and she reminded Andy of herself. It was like she was looking in a mirror from when she and Alex had gotten out of Lyon. Her stomach twisted slightly, but she kept smiling. “Do you need anything else?” Not everything was buy one get one, but it didn’t matter. Now that she was in a better position, she could help, and she wanted to. Especially after the bullshit with the shopkeeper. 

“No pressure, by the way.” Andy knew what it felt like to be offered help, even when you weren’t asking for it. It could be awkward, and the last thing that she wanted to do was make the girl feel guilty. “If you just want the candy, that’s okay, too.” She heard something from up front and the shopkeeper stared at them, a begrudging expression flickering across his features. Andy had to do everything in her power to not give him the bird.

—

At the repetition, Ren’s cheeks reddened just slightly. Almost hard to tell under all those freckles. She’d never seen anyone else with as many as she had. For a moment, it had the fae wondering if the ruse would have worked otherwise. Did normal humans look a lot like their siblings? Ren didn’t get enough of a chance around the other Adelskold kids to really tell. Everything was always kept at a distance. Everything here was so close and warm. 

Andy (not that Ren knew her name yet) was taller than her. By quite a bit. (To be fair, this wasn’t saying much. Most dogs would be taller than Ren if they stood on their hind legs.) She had her hair grown long in a way that would surely have annoyed the nymph. It was already too long for her liking. Something she’d have to figure out how to deal with sooner rather than later. Having a bit on top was fine during the winter, but now? It was too warm to have to contend with. 

“I do not think I need anything else. Was… craving? This is more than enough. Your kindness is remarkable.” Too many people offering her too many things. It was too much to process most of the time, right now, right after being verbally suckerpunched by the man who owned the store? It was worse. Awful. Ren was surprised she managed to say anything at all. 

—-

Andy noticed the way that the girl looked at her, but she didn’t comment on it. There was something familiar in her expression, but Andy wasn’t sure what its name was. Not admiration, that was for sure. Andy wasn’t the kind of person to be admired. 

“Remarkable?” Andy bobbed her head before letting out another laugh. “I’m not sure about that.” Her gaze cut to the shopkeeper who was watching them from the corner of his eye– it was obvious by his body language. She made a show of dropping another item into her basket before turning fully towards the kid. Andy silently wondered how old she was. She looked to be about Alex’s age which made Andy’s chest tighten. The question of whether or not this kid was a con artist came to mind, as Andy had taken that approach more than once, but there was a genuinity that was absent. Even if she were a con-artist, Andy wasn’t sure she cared. 

“So that’s it, then? Sour gummies? Nothing to drink?” Andy had half a mind to ask if she needed toiletries, by the state of her, but she didn’t want to assume. Too much too quick, and the kid might tuck tail and run. If it hadn’t been for Alex standing behind her, Andy probably would have, too. 

—

Even if the girl didn’t think so, Ren saw it as admirable. The young nymph wished things like this came easy. A smile, confidence to fight on someone’s behalf, rather than just fighting them. A certain familiarity to this whole schtick that she could never really master. Not with a hundred years, or however long it took for something to finally get the better of her. Nymphs were supposed to live a long time. That was the whole point of Darya’s experiment. A longer lasting warden. Someone who could fight things from the inside out, and keep doing it as long as she didn’t die. 

What Emilio, Nora, Van, Thea, Gael, and even Cass taught her, is that you need people around you to keep you alive. Even if doing so goes directly against what you were programmed for. The unknown redhead was in there too. Giving just a little bit of sunshine to make the flowers bloom. 

“I am fine with water I have, but you are kind for asking this.” Maybe she should have been suspicious. Maybe she should have stopped to think, but Ren had a habit of taking most things at face value. And right now, there was a kind woman who was doing more than her share of being helpful. The kind of thing you do to try and make friends. “Let us just leave as soon as we can, yes?” 

—

“Water, sure.” Andy wanted the girl to ask for more, but she knew the feeling– of asking too much, of taking too much and how the guilt would cause you to erode. Andy didn’t want to drive off the girl before she could truly help her. “You just stay put, I’ll go and pay, okay?” She gave the girl a small smile before heading towards the register, grabbing two bottles of water from the nearby drink fridge. 

After she’d paid for the items as well as gotten fifty dollars cash back, Andy stuffed the bill into the bag, beneath the items she’d purchased so that the girl wouldn’t see it till she was long gone, and returned to her side. “Here you go.” She handed off the bag with a small smile before motioning for the redhead to follow her outside. 

“My name is Andy, by the way.” The girl hadn’t asked, but she still felt the need to supply it. She looked towards her jeep before glancing back down at the kid. “Sorry you had to deal with that shithead to begin with.” Andy frowned slightly as she looked back inside to the store where the man was watching them through the window. After being noticed, he immediately looked away. Rolling her eyes, Andy let out a sigh. “I don’t think he’ll give you any more issues.” She twisted her own bag of goodies around her fingers, letting the bag spin one direction and then the opposite. 

It hurt how much of herself she saw in the girl. Was this how small she had looked? How much more pity would this girl be given? Although, Andy wasn’t sure that her assistance had been out of pity, but instead out of reflection. “Figure it might be overkill, asking if you need a ride anywhere.” For how careful she usually was, one might point out this was out of character, but she just hoped that if this kid did have a sibling somewhere out there, they might appreciate someone looking out for her. Andy knew that she’d be grateful for anyone that decided to help Alex. “I hope you like the peach rings, though. They’re good.” 

—

If Ren had blinked in the time between when Andy stepped in for her, it’d have been a miracle. The wide eyed stare had barely left the other red head the entire time, and yet somehow she missed the secret transaction stowed away in the plastic bag that’d been handed over. Just like that. Ren hadn’t done anything to deserve this. Just… got yelled at. Which as far as she was concerned, was a pretty rote thing to happen in her life. Adults yelled, she stood still until it was over, and hopefully it’d be okay. 

The nymph mechanically followed Andy (That was her name, she had offered it, something Ren hadn’t even considered doing. All those tips on how to be friendly seemed so far away when things like this happened.) out into the parking lot. Quite like a lost puppy might, upon being offered a scrap of a meal. Only, the puppy didn’t believe it deserved the things it was getting. Driven on by a bodily instinct that superseded the mental blocks placed ahead of it. “Ren.” Squeaked out. Barely audible. Tiny in the way that the entomid always felt. 

“I do not need… ride.” For the first time Ren’s gaze flickered away. Drifting to the jeep that wasn’t unlike some of the few cars that made their way deep enough into the compound for Ren to see. A big practical thing that could just as easily drive off the paved streets as it could on them. “I do not know how… to fully express how kind this is.” The bag in her hand rustled, and her lips attempted something that was almost a smile. “This was not something you needed to do.” 

— 

“Ren? I like that name. It’s nice.” Andy understood the shock after being accused of something. It had happened with her parents, and the multiple run-ins with store owners like the asshole back inside. She wanted to give her time to process.

Andy shrugged, her smile still present. “No problem, no ride, then.” If she were in Ren’s shoes, she probably wouldn’t take it either. Especially not in a town like Wicked’s Rest. “You don’t need to worry about it.” She neglected to explain how somebody had done the same thing for her. Even if it hadn’t happened that way, Andy would have stepped in anyway. She knew that she didn’t need to identify with whoever was in trouble, not always. “Ehh, the guy needed to be taken down a peg, it wasn’t an issue at all.” 

She looked towards her jeep, then down at the bag that Ren held. She hoped that she wouldn’t dig in and find the fifty dollar bill until long after she was gone. The last thing she needed was for the girl to try and give it back. Andy let out a soft sigh. “Stay safe, yeah?” Andy wasn’t sure if she would ever run into Ren again. The town was small, but not that small. “And just… if anyone starts anything like that with you again, hold onto what’s true, you know?” Even if it’s not, Andy wanted to say. 

—

Something closer to an actual smile graced Ren’s lips for just a moment. That warm sort of feeling filled her chest again and she found herself glancing down at the ground rather than look Andy in the eye as she fiddled with the bag in her hands. Still too frazzled to realize it was probably a lot heavier than it should have been. The tiny girl wanted to speak up. Wanted to properly express what all this meant to her, but that would require words she just wasn’t capable of arranging adequately. 

Instead she reached out a hand. Offered a nod with the shake, and turned to walk away. Caught between wanting to look back, and wanting to keep distance, Ren partially moved her head. And called out to the other.  “You are a good person Andy. I am glad to have met you.” 

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Blue's Rose - Chapter 34 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Boys Will Be Found Out

Blue Cavanaugh & Kulap 'Kool' Somboon

Blue arrived at the hotel doors and stepped through coming unexpectedly face to face with Mia.

The usually bubbly girl looked anything but.

Her face was serious and her eyes red rimmed.

Blue could tell she had been crying recently, maybe even for a few days judging by the puffiness.

Blue gave her a small smile.

"I guess this isn't a coincidence."

Mia returned his smile with a small one of her own.

"No."

Blue was happy to see that her smile, though only a fraction of its usual joyful one, seemed to at least be sincere.

Neither did she appear to be angry, so he didn't think she had come for a my-man-type confrontation.

He was relieved.

Despite the jealousy he sometimes felt when he thought of her, he couldn't ever imagine fighting with her.

He was glad that she appeared to feel the same.

"Can we talk?" she finally asked, indicating a sofa off to the side.

Blue realized then they had still been standing in front of the automatic doors, blocking people's way.

He hurriedly bowed to a guest who was frowning at him and followed Mia over to the small sea foam colored sofa, sitting down on the other cushion of the sofa after she sat.

Once seated, Blue looked at Mia expectantly but she didn't say anything immediately.

She simply stared at Blue long and hard.

Her look made him feel uncomfortable but he didn't fidget.

He felt like she was searching for something so he tried to remain relaxed so that she might find her answers, whatever her questions may be.

"You love him," she suddenly flung at him.

Her voice was very firm, the hint of steel behind the gentle tone alerting Blue to the seriousness behind her reason for being here.

"Was that a question or a statement?" Blue finally asked.

It could really be taken either way.

Mia smiled.

"A bit of both I think. I think you love him. I just want you to confirm it for me," she replied her eyes unwavering in their desire for the truth.

Blue stared back.

He had nothing to hide nor anything he was ashamed to answer.

"I do," he said simply with strong conviction in his voice.

No one listening could doubt the sincerity of his answer.

"Enough?" she asked cryptically.

Blue quirked his eyebrow and gave a half smile.

She was being deliberately enigmatic in her questioning and yet completely obvious in her intent at the same time.

Blue wasn't sure of the game she was playing but he knew in his heart she was playing for Kool and she was playing to win.

Considering he wanted nothing either than for Kool to be on the winning side of life that meant they were on the same team.

"More than enough," he finally answered, his tone arrogantly confidant.

"Good," she said before swiftly standing to her feet and turning to walk away.

Surprised, Blue reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could take a step.

"Hey?"

"What?" she asked, still standing, looking at the hand clamped down, delaying her departure.

Blue released her wrist abruptly.

It was clear she had said what she had come to say and was leaving. It was up to him to decipher her ambiguous remarks.

Mia stopped suddenly and turned back with one last parting shot.

"Keep your word or I will come back and it won't be pretty," she threatened lightly in a manner one would tell someone to make sure to remember an umbrella when it rains.

It was because of the mundane manner of which she commented that made it that much more serious.

Blue felt very sure he would see her again if he ever hurt Kool but where was she going?

And how could he be the one to hurt Kool when she was the one marrying him on Saturday?

Even more confused Blue watched her as she sashayed away, her heels clicking on the shiny pale tile.

He was about to turn away when he noticed that she was approaching a tall thin man in jeans and black polo shirt.

He watched more dumbfounded as she grabbed the guys hand with a sweetly alluring smile and walked away with him.

Now Blue knew he really didn't know what was going on.

Mia didn't have a brother and that man hadn't looked at her in a brotherly fashion.

He looked at Mia like Blue looked at Kool.

Hot, horny and in love and not necessarily in that order.

Blue recognized desperate need.

He saw it in the mirror everyday since arriving here.

Mia and that man didn't have a platonic relationship of that he was certain.

What was going on?

Blue made his way to the elevator and rode the lift up in silence as his mind replayed the strange scene over again in his head.

No matter how he looked at it, Mia had come here weighing him up and finding him worthy.

Who the other man was and what she was doing with him was anyone's guess.

Blue wondered what he should say to Kool.

He didn't like the position he now found himself in.

He didn't even really understand what that position 'was'.

For such an uncomplicated girl Mia had really done a number on him this afternoon.

Later that evening, glancing at his watch for the umpteenth time, Blue wondered where Kool was.

Five o'clock had come and gone.

Six, seven and now it was eight and still Blue had not heard a word from Kool.

He looked down at his cell.

Still no response to any of Blue's text.

He had sent a few then one every hour Kool hadn't shown.

[Can't wait to see you. ]

[Running late?]

[Kool can I get an ETA?]

[Where are you man?]

[You know this is giving me PTSD, right? It's like reliving the last four years all over again so I would at least like a response. You owe me that.]

[Kool?]

Blue's gut churned in worry.

Considering the craziness of his mother and Mia's unexpected visit this afternoon, Blue had the feeling something big was happening.

He didn't like being kept out of the loop.

He didn't like not being able to be there for Kool.

Why wouldn't he return at least one of his fucking messages?

His instinct was to just call but he didn't know who was around Kool and he wasn't going to do anything that could potentially create more problems for Kool with his family so he refrained.

Frustrated and angry, Blue fell asleep across the foot of the bed on top of the blankets in the sweaty clothes he had warn all day with still no answering text to ease his mind.

**************

Kulap was frustrated.

He thought he could leave work by at least four but it was starting to look like that wasn't going to happen, one problem cropped up after another.

Stupid, simple problems but ones that still needed his attention nonetheless.

Fate was conspiring against him today and as fate had pretty much conspired against him most his life when it came to love, he was feeling pretty pissed off.

He worked as quickly and as diligently as he could.

He had probably gotten more done than most people would but situations kept arising until he wanted to scream.

Why today of all days he wasn't sure but glancing at the clock seeing it was half past four already, he promised himself he wouldn't stay past five, he had one more night with Blue.

This was their last night together, he just wouldn't waste another moment behind this desk instead of with him, he had things he wanted to say.

Things he had been scared to admit but now that they had said I love you to each other, the most intimate of expressions they could voice, Kulap realized there no longer existed a need to hold back.

He wanted to claim at least once in his life that he had shared with another human more than just his body and emotions, he wanted to share the word, he wanted to say these things to Blue.

Knowing something in your heart was all well and good but hearing it out loud, spoken by the one you loved in return, surpassed everything else.

He had learned that when he had heard Blue tell him that he loved him.

The moment the words had been said in Blue's gruff passion filled voice, Kulap's brain had clicked with the warmth of acceptance and home.

He finally understood that there was a space in life carved especially for him where he belonged and was cherished.

Isn't that what everyone wanted after all, to have that one person to belong to?

That person you could relate to and understand even if no one else did, that person who in turn accepted you, faults and all.

The person you shared your life with through the good, the bad and the ugly.

Blue was all of that and more to Kulap, he couldn't let Blue leave without telling him how very special he was.

Physically, intellectually, and spiritually Blue Cavanaugh was the perfect man for Kulap Somboon, he was quite simply a perfect man period.

Kulap needed him to know that.

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Of Stars & Blood - Chapter 4

Summary: Astarion avoids Elendil for the time being... until Elendil insists upon having a much needed talk.

Pairing: Astarion x Elendil (named Tav)

Warning: angst, fluff

Word count: 1.2k

Series masterlist

AO3

The following day, Astarion had decided to stay at camp, while Lae’zel, Wyll, Shadowheart, and Elendil went out for the day to grab various supplies. He barely left his tent, save for leaving to bathe before the others returned. As he makes his way back to camp, Astarion catches sight of Elendil, whose armor is covered in blood and viscera, while she trudges back towards her tent with her pack. The supply run went well, he takes it, judging by how said pack is absolutely overflowing with various things. When she ducks inside her tent, the flap dropping closed behind her, Astarion quickly changes from a leisurely pace, to a more brisk one. It’s not that he didn’t want to see Elendil… well that’s actually exactly what he wanted. To continue avoiding her, at all costs. He couldn’t risk the inevitable talk that she would initiate if they crossed paths too closely. As it was, Astarion was unsure what to make of everything. He couldn’t decipher the feelings that he had being around Elendil, and he didn’t know how to process that being in her presence felt familiar. It felt right to be around her, and it had been so long since he had any glimpse, let alone tangible grasp, on any piece of his life before Cazador. No matter how much the elf wracked his brain at night, attempting to stir up any memories of the woman he somehow feels he knows, he cannot come up with any answers as to why that feeling resides within him. It was borderline maddening at this point, not knowing.

The rest of the evening was spent in his tent, propped up against his pillows, a book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. Said book and wine, had been snatched by his nimble hands the last time that he had been out, looting. Having been deprived of such luxuries for 200 years, he had been enjoying such things with his newfound freedom. Reading by the light of a candle had become one of his favorite ways to treat himself. Just as he took a sip of his red wine, his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps, Elendil’s footsteps to be precise, just outside his tent. It was as if she was pacing. The sound irritated his sensitive ears more than anything, and before she could make her presence known purposefully, Astarion spoke up, “Can I assist you with something?” The snip in his tone did not go unnoticed by Elendil.

He could hear her exhale, “Could we talk? Just for a moment?” Her voice wavered as if she were nervous. Just as nervous as that question made Astarion. 

He leaned forwards and opened the tent flap, to which Elendil took as an invitation and ducked inside. 

“Please, do make yourself at home.” Astarion quipped and gestures vaguely toward the rest of his tent, while placing his book, facedown off to his side. Elendil sat before him, legs folded beneath her to the side. Her hands fidgeted in her lap as she gathered what she wanted to say.

“Astar-”

“Tav-”

They began speaking at the same time, Elendil looking up at him at the sound of her childhood name.

“Go on.” Astarion encouraged, his voice taking on a lighter tone now that he met her gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

He began to try interrupting her, the last thing that he wanted was pity, but he stopped the moment she held up a hand to silence him.

“I am sorry for saying that I know you, the other night. I know that things are different now, that things have changed and we don’t really know each other.” Elendil’s voice cracks as she continues.

“But I did know you Sta- Astarion,” she corrects her slip up and tries to look at him, but ultimately finds that his gaze is trained on her fidgeting hands. “but I don’t think the man that I knew is too far gone from the one I am sitting before now. Even if he is gone, I want to know you now.” Elendil takes a breath, as tears begin to stream down her cheeks.

“I have gone 200 years, thinking that you were dead, but I realize now, that the pain that I have felt, is nothing compared to whatever it is that has happened to you and please, I am not asking you to tell me what happened. But I am telling you that I am here, and I am not going anywhere if you don’t wish me to.” 

Astarion finally makes eye contact with her, his own eyes welling up but not spilling over. His jaw clenches for a moment before he speaks, “I must say that I am very lost in all of this. There’s very few memories that I have from my life prior to my death, well, undeath.” He nervously fiddles with the seam of his trousers, not used to expressing his feelings in such a way.

“But something nags at my mind, telling me that you are a safe person. That I don’t have to be frightened around you, but it’s been 200 years of not being able to trust anyone, or anything.” Astarion can see Elendil’s hand reach out in his peripheral, and he gently takes it in his own, accepting the small comfort.

“The scars you saw on my back are a gift from Cazador, the man who found me on the brink of death and turned me into one of his spawn. I had to dig and crawl my way through my own grave, only to be taken in by him and tortured and used sexually for two centuries.” Elendil’s thumb gently rubs over his knuckles soothingly.

“He carved those marks into my back over the course of a night, and made many revisions along the way.” As Astarion finishes telling Elendil of where he has been, she chokes back a sob, her hand covering her mouth as she looks at her Star. Her Star who’s been tortured and abused for two centuries. 

Her chest aches as she looks at him. He looks so defeated, and Elendil’s brain can barely comprehend why anyone would have wanted to hurt him in such a brutal, unforgiving way. 

Sure, he had been a magistrate, and had made some less than savory choices whilst in that role, but torture? Of this magnitude?

“I’m so sor-”

“Don’t.” Astarion’s words cut, “Don’t give me pity. It’s the last thing I need.” Tears freely flow from his eyes, his teeth gritted. 

Elendil shakes her head, “I don’t pity you. I could never pity you. I wish I knew. I wish I could have done something to help you.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. He’s too powerful. You would have been turned into one of his puppets, the moment he set eyes on you.” 

As the two continued to talk, Elendil’s eyelids grew heavy, the day taking its toll on her. 

“I’m glad we had this talk.” She said honestly, “We have a big day ahead of us, getting to the shadowlands and all. I better head in for the night.” She began to stand, when Astarion grabbed her wrist, his eyes wide.

“Please, stay.”

“Are you sure?”

He spoke almost too quick, “Yes.” Then elaborated, “When I talk or think about him too much in a day, it’s almost guaranteed that I don’t get rest.” He didn’t know why he felt so comfortable telling her this, what he felt, secret.

Elendil smiled at him softly, “Okay.”

The two readjusted to a suitable position for rest, and in the morning, found that they had found comfort in each other’s arms through the hours of the night.

Taglist: @lynnlovesthestars @thexhostess @roguishcat

[fasterthanmydemons]

[ Speedster of the Galaxy ]

Mantis tilted her head to the side, watching him with visible curiosity. “Nice to meet you,” she said. Pietro’s state was understandable, just not something she could relate to. Mantis was never loved by Ego, and she had little to no interaction with her siblings before Ego ended their lives. But as time went by, she realized she was starting to love the Guardians. While she couldn’t fully understand what it felt like to be overly attached to someone - according to Ego, attachments were a terrible mistake since almost all beings were mortal and even those who weren’t would die in his Expansion anyway - Mantis found herself anxious at the thought of the Guardians getting hurt. There was a certain irony to it; her powers were related to emotions, yet she struggled to decipher her own. But every day, she understood herself a little better.

“This is not my ship,” she replied, correcting him and shaking her head lightly from side to side. “It is ours. We are a team… a team that you are now a part of, too.” When Pietro claimed he didn’t mind the company right after he said she could do what she wanted, Mantis knew he was trying to be nice. “Liar,” she stated, but her tone was not accusing - it was casual, soft, since she was simply pointing something out. “It is okay to want to be alone sometimes. It is also okay to understand that you don’t have to go through hard times alone.” Mantis wasn’t sure if that comment helped. After all, they were strangers; he had no reason to trust her or any of the Guardians. He was far from his sister, his planet, his home… his life as he knew it. Of course he would feel nothing but negative emotions.

“Do you like space so far?” she asked, trying to shift Pietro’s attention to something more positive. Sitting with her hands politely folded on her lap, she stared at him with her black, big eyes, her antennae straight. She hoped he wouldn’t find her unsettling. Then again, Drax was gray, Gamora was green, Groot was a tree, and Rocket was a killing machine covered in fur. Peter was the only one whose appearance humans would deem ‘normal’. If Pietro found everyone but Quill unsettling, he was going to have a hard time adjusting to his new life on the ship. “Welcome to the Benatar, by the way. I know Quill showed you around, but maybe he forgot to tell you, so… welcome.” The ship was fairly big. While it certainly had limitations, Pietro had enough distance to run. Needless to say, they would often land on different planets, where he would have all the space he needed to unleash his super speed without having to worry about being arrested for… for… well, Mantis wasn’t sure. What came after Ultron had been talked about, but not as much as the events regarding Ultron himself. It was known in the galaxy that humans had a tendency to self-destruct. Mantis believed she was in no position to judge them. Not when her father tried to wipe out an entire existing universe to replace it all with himself.

She instinctively clasped her hands together as usual, her eyes softening as her gaze followed Pietro’s. “It’s… big, huh? Space.” Looking out the window, the empath idly wrapped her arms around herself as she rose from the seat. She approached him slowly, trying to get closer to the window. The music and the rest of the ship seemed to fade away as she became absorbed in the sheer beauty of space. It was intimidating, in a way, but that only added to its beauty. The galaxy was made of chaos and calmness; two opposite forces combined. The proximity, however, just made her even more aware of Pietro’s emotions. He was anxious. Angry. Sad. Lonely. He missed his twin so much… His feelings were so different from the ones Mantis experienced when she became a part of the team. “When I joined the Guardians… I left no one I loved behind,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, blinking before she glanced at the speedster. He had a deep sadness in his eyes, apparent enough that Mantis didn’t even need empathy to know it. “I’m sorry you cannot say the same.”

__________

Pietro thought it odd that she would say the ship was “ours” and the team’s, and then imply that it was therefore his too, since he was part of the team. His eyebrow rose and he looked at her in bewildered disbelief. “Well is definitely not my ship. I don’t know where anything is, don’t know how to fly it, don’t know anything. So is more yours than mine. Also you were here first. Even teams have seniority. I’m the new guy, so I’m way at the bottom of everything. Don’t touch this, don’t do that, don’t say this or that...” He shrugged, not sure why he was rambling. “I get it. It was same way with Avengers,” he added with some amount of resentment. “Don’t worry, I won’t break your ship.”

Suddenly he felt very irritated, not necessarily at Mantis, but just the situation. Pietro was tired of always feeling like an unwanted reject everywhere he went. In school as a child, he was picked on for being small. After his parents’ deaths, he got into fights in the orphanage defending Wanda from bullies, and was told that he was a problem child. In every foster home, he was told to behave, sit still, stop talking, why can’t you just be normal?! Once they were on the streets, he got a reputation for stealing that had everyone looking at him funny. In the Hydra laboratory, he was constantly and harshly disciplined for acting out. And with the Avengers, he found himself getting told to pay attention, mind the schedule, and don’t touch the expensive tech while Wanda was seemingly accepted with open arms. He was sick and tired of always being the bad seed. It was exhausting, isolating, and frustrating.

When she called him a liar, his gaze shot to her in immediate insult. “Is not very nice to say. If you want to know my thought process, you can ask, but don’t just call me a liar. Is unfair to assume things about people,” he said. “I did want to be alone, but I decided I didn’t mind you so much, so I changed my mind, is all. But if you are going to stand here and call me a liar, then maybe I do want to be alone,” he said, immediately feeling like a jerk for doing so. He sighed. “Sorry. Am just in a bad mood. Has nothing to do with you.” At his side, he felt his right hand start to twitch. Not now, damn it, he thought, pressing his palm flat against his thigh to keep it steady. The muscles in his upper arm were spasming too, but he could do little to hide that. He simply hoped Mantis wouldn’t notice. The last thing he wanted was pity.

“Yeah... is nice,” Pietro said. It was a lackluster response, despite him actually thinking space was pretty damn cool. It was just difficult for him to fully wrap his heart around the experience when he was without Wanda. “I wish my sister could see it too.” He looked at her again when she mentioned the ship’s name. There was something that had been nagging at him since he’d heard it the first time... “Benatar as in... Pat Benatar?” he asked. “Am just asking because she is very good singer on Earth. I like a lot of her songs.” And then, for some odd reason, he began listing them. “Love is a Battlefield. Invincible. Hit Me With Your Best Shot. We Belong...” He nodded and shrugged. “Lot of good music. Great voice. Lyrics with meaning,” he commented. “Is a strange name for a ship, though, don’t you think?”

“Well, is space. Of course it’s big,” Pietro said. “It’s got to fit all the planets and moons and things.” And things. He didn't know exactly what, but he knew there was a whole helluva lotta stuff in space. When the conversation shifted to leaving loved ones behind, though, Pietro visibly stiffened. “Is fine. Is my problem and I will deal,” he said stoically. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with these people if he started blubbering, complaining, crying, or having a pity party about Wanda, so he thought it best that he just suck it up and live with this new normal he’d been thrust into.

[dolofinao]

And Then They Were Villains

                    Chapter One

             BASKETBALL IT IS

"I can't wait to hit that!" Mike gave a subtle point with his finger at the light skinned black girl sitting at the far left of us, stretching on the gym floor. "Got her number at lunch yesterday. She told me to come over Friday after school. So you know what that means." He started making obnoxious moaning sounds while pounding his fists on the bleachers. Typical young high school kid shit.

Mike was the high school pretty boy. Fly gear, good hair & tall. His grades were shit but when it came to the ladies, he was passing with flying colors. So much that us regular guys used to make bets every year on which new girl Mike would hook up with first. And this year he had his eyes set on Mandy. The light skinned black girl in gym glass who would stretch before volleyball games. And us guys would watch her like hawks.

We had just finished up our football game so we had a few minutes to relax & drool over the ladies before the gym teacher would tell us to 'go be active.' Volleyball wasn't our thing, so most of the fellas would play more contact sports. Anthony (Ant) blurted out our next move. "Half court dodgeball." We all looked at him confused. Mike let out a fake laugh. "Yeah sure Ant. With what ball? The red one is done for & that black one got stolen so... yeah. Not happening." Ant sucked his teeth & sank back into the bleacher seat behind him. Ant was the 'ideas' man. Short, nerdy but super chill kinda dude. Also had a bit of a temper if you ever pushed his buttons too hard. He actually got suspended for 2 weeks one year for slamming a senior onto a lunch table & telling him he was gonna "slit his throat" if he ever touched his fries again. Ever since then he was Ant. The short, strong nerd kid who picked up and slammed a 6 foot tall senior jock & lived to tell about it.

Zach, was the only white dude in our little crew of random black kids. He hung with us because we never judged him for being the way he was. He dressed & acted like us but lived the suburban life back home. And we didn't give a shit. And if anybody stepped to him for 'acting black'... we would let them know what time it was. That was our thing. We all bonded because we were all different in some interesting ways. In ways we didn't see in other kids at school. And we looked out for each other. Even if some of us never threw a punch a day in our lives.

But back to Zack, who decided to wake up from his pot head nap to chime in on our conversation. He sat up straight & fixed his long gold link chain & dragon charm. "I brought that ball back. Like a week ago. Naw wait. Two days ago." Now HE was the recipient of our confused looks. "Brought WHAT ball back?" I said slowly in hopes that he would for once give us a clear and coherent answer. "That black dodgeball. Threw it under the bleachers so no one could use it." We all turned and looked at each other & communicated without speaking. As if we were all trying to decipher Zachs weed smoker logic, & then came to whatever conclusions made the most sense to us.

Mike gave Zachs arm a quick slap with the back of his hand. "Ok so get your ass up & get it dude!" Zach let out a goofy sounding low toned chuckle. "Naw bro, it's like waaaaay under there. Way too dark and dusty too." He pulled at the tongue of one of his all white Air Forces to let us know exactly why he wasn't the man for the job.

Before any of us had the chance to roast Zach for his lame ass excuse, I jumped up made my way down the set of bleachers to retrieve our dodgeball. "Fuck it, I'll get it." I looked down at my all black outfit & had a moment of pause in my head. Too late now. Ant wasn't far behind me. "If you get stuck or can't get it, lemme know." He said. As well dressed as Ant was, he somehow managed to keep his clothes spotless even in the most messy of situations. I gave him a 'good lookin out' nod & readied myself to head under.

From where I was standing I could see our dodgeball. Just sitting there, looking back at me. Probably wondering why it was under there in the first place.  Making my way to it was pretty easy. It was just a matter of not smaking my head off of anything while I moved. Half way under, I did this thing I do sometimes. I jokingly thought to myself... 'What if these bleachers just started to close in on me? Like if this was all just a set up? I wonder how much time I would have before I got crushed? Oh shit.'

A slightly echoing voice called from behind me. "You see it?... you got it?" I picked up the dodgeball along with fingers full of dust and debris that had accumulated around the bottom of it. "Yeah I got it." Ant disappeared to tell the rest of the crew the good news. The crouch walk back was a bit more tedious. I felt like I was holding onto a precious artifact, while also trying not to bang my head off of anything. I was just about all the way from underneath when I remembered. 'Bleachers closing in 5... 4... 3... 2...' I gave myself a longer last second countdown & did a small jump out into the gym lights & fresh air. Mike and the rest of them were already gathered on the right side of the gym floor.

I jogged over and went for a lazy layup with the dodgeball & missed. Mike grabbed it from it's stationary bounce and started doing his 'And 1' moves before tossing the ball to Zach with some force behind the pass. He caught it off balance and played it off with a spin move & a few dribbles between his legs.

Ant looked at the stragglers who were still hanging out on the bleachers. "Half court dodgeball! Who's down to play?!?" We got a few glances back, a few 'no thanks' gestures, & a few mumbles, but nobody got up from the bleachers.

Ant turned back to us and shrugged. "Ay man I tried." And to be fair, the stragglers pretty much consisted of the 'fuck everything' & 'no contact' kids. So half court anything was pretty much a no go.

I walked over to Zach who was still in his dribbling zone out & snatched the

dodgeball from him. I shot from half court & missed again. Basketball it is.

[lossie92]

The promised snippet from one of my WIPs, The Wild Beauty within You. 

It’s a femTobi/Mada fic. The story is set pre-Konoha and kicks off with Madara and Tobirama being held captive by a mysterious group of shinobi. They are forced to work together in order to escape with their lives and, in the process, they get closer...😉

Hope you enjoy!

-

Warnings: canon-typical violence, threat of rape

-

It took a bit longer than expected before the people got close enough for him to decipher what they were saying, but when they did, he had to work very hard not to blow his cover immediately.

“Let me go!” That timbre, even though deeper in register, could only belong to a woman and Madara could clearly hear the fear underlying her ire. “You will fucking regret ever getting your hands near m—”

The slap was so loud it seemed to echo in the near empty space.

“I told you to shut up!” A gruff male voice barked before another one added, “You will either do as you’re told or we’ll make you do it, sweetheart. Your choice.”

“Fuck you!” The woman responded. 

Predictably enough, her yell was followed by another loud smack, indicating she had been slapped once again, probably even harder than before judging by the choked up, pained sound she made after the blow connected with what Madara suspected to be her face.

“I will fuck you and maybe that will make you quiet,” the first man growled, his tone making it obvious he meant it. “See if you have the strength to bitch after I’m done with you.”

That direct threat seemed to finally make the woman reconsider mouthing off and she fell silent, her bravado evidently only able to carry her so far. Madara was relieved she didn’t continue provoking whoever she was with both for his sake and her own. He had absolutely no desire to play witness to rape and he also didn’t wish this brave, if foolish woman to suffer such a fate.

It took another few seconds before Madara heard the footsteps stop in front of his cell. The barred doors were opened a moment later and the woman was shoved inside hard enough to immediately fall to the ground.

“Oi, you there! You have a guest. Say hello to the lady,” the other man yelled before sniggering at his own joke.

“Leave him alone, Maki. Unless you want to end up like Giichi and Kota.”

“That’s the guy who—?”

“Yes,” the gruff man said before he addressed the woman. “If I were you, I would listen to that advice as well. Nobody appreciates a noisy cellmate or so I have been told and it would be a shame if something happened to you, wouldn’t it?”

The woman said nothing to that, but when Madara cracked his eyes open just a little, he could see that she was turned in the direction of the men who brought her in. It wasn’t hard to imagine her glaring daggers at them. She seemed like the type to do that.

Though the men had tried to provoke her again a few times, likely hoping she would snap and give them a reason to make good on what they had promised her if she misbehaved again, they got bored with her silence soon enough and left.

Madara waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore before he opened his eyes fully and cleared his throat.

The woman immediately turned in his direction and then jerked back in a mixture of shock and fear, her entire body tense. She had likely expected him to be unconscious and was startled to discover that wasn’t the case.

Madara looked her over quickly, his eyes widening when he registered that he knew her.

Red slanted eyes, moon-pale skin, white hair, three lines cutting across a familiar, if horribly swollen face.

These features could belong to one person and one person only.

“Senju?” He couldn’t help but blurt out, surprise making his voice raise in pitch.

“U-uchiha?” Tobirama – and it had to be Tobirama, no doubt about it – asked before h—before she moved away in clear panic, all but huddling into the far corner of the cell.

 It was an instinctive thing to look down and take stock of what she was wearing. Just like him, she had been stripped down to her underwear, the only garments protecting her modesty the chest wrappings and a pair of pants in the traditional shinobi cut. Other than that, she was basically naked. In fact, he could clearly see the outline of her breasts, which only further confirmed in his mind that he had been very mistaken about her gender up until now.

It was at this point that he realised what he was doing and his eyes snapped back up to Tobirama’s face as if he had been burnt.

Dear lord of fire, if his mother was still alive and learnt he had just ogled someone so blatantly and completely against their will, she would have talked both of his ears right off!

“My apologies,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to— I was just surprised.”

“Surprised?” Tobirama repeated after him before asking, “Surprised by what?”

Having no clue how to explain it without sounding like a boor or an idiot, or both, he just waved vaguely in her direction, hoping she would somehow understand what he meant. 

For a moment it seemed she didn’t, though that was likely because she was momentarily distracted by the fact his hands weren’t bound. She stared at them for a good few seconds as if she was trying to gauge whether he would attack her – which was fair and perfectly understandable – before she finally looked at him.

“You thought I was a man, didn’t you?” She asked. Her tone told him in no uncertain terms what exactly she thought about that.

“That was my general assumption, yes.”

Tobirama groaned in obvious annoyance, her hesitance and fear apparently forgotten for the time being. “What is it with everyone thinking that just because I choose to wear pants it means I must be a man? Or is it the fact I’m tall, since obviously all women must be short, don’t they?”

“Er, I don’t think that’s—”

“That’s exactly what it is! You’re not thinking!” She continued undaunted, her voice raising in volume. “I have tits, for fuck’s sake! They are right here!”

Madara very valiantly avoided looking down to where he suspected she was pointing and instead focused trying not to say something stupid or, gods forbid, laugh. He had a good idea of what Tobirama’s reaction would be to either of those things. Even if he found her burst of temper endearing, he didn’t wish to provoke her further. She seemed angry enough as is. On top of that, if she continued making a racket, there was a high chance their captors would come back to check what was going on and who knew how they would react if they found Tobirama in this state or how Tobirama would react to their presence.

With that in mind, Madara slowly raised his hands to chest level, palms open and facing Tobirama. “Senju-san,” he said as calmly and soothingly as he could manage. “While I, um, understand your displeasure with the, er, situation, perhaps it would be better not to draw undue attention to ourselves? I do apologise for—”

“I don’t need your fucking apology!” Tobirama screamed. Now her voice held a note of hysterics. “And I’m not afraid of these fuckers! They chopped off all of my hair! Look at it!” Here she gestured to her head, bringing Madara’s attention to the fact the white strands did look very uneven. There were some longer pieces handing past Tobirama’s collarbones and it was also clearly much shorter in the back. All in all, it looked terrible. “I, I spent the last three years t-trying to— It only just grew back! And they cut it all off… Just like that. Like, like it didn’t matter!”

She broke off into a sob, making Madara acutely aware that the burst of anger was not so much a show of bravery or recklessness, but rather a response to stress triggered by overwhelming panic and that fear he had seen so clearly in her face when she had first recognised him. 

Before he could think better about what he was about to do, he moved in her direction, intent on doing something, anything really, to make her stop, because watching her cry like this was unbearable. Her entire frame was shaking as she tried desperately to catch her breath in-between sobs and there was something absolutely wrong about the way she huddled in that little corner, squeezing herself against the wall to make herself seem as small as humanly possible.

"Senju— Tobirama-san, I—"

She froze at the sound of his voice. When she looked at him, everything about that single look said she was absolutely terrified. "N-no," she whimpered. "P-please, please don't— please."

Though Madara had always known he scared people, he had never been confronted by it in this way. Being faced with the reality that his mere presence could scare someone to the point they were begging him to stay away when he was just trying to help was sickening and made his stomach turn uncomfortably. 

He had always been proud of his strength and sometimes even boasted about it. He knew that he was likely one of the strongest shinobi in the Land of Fire. There was no denying that. Right now though that same power he used to protect and provide for his clan made him feel like some kind of a monster and he couldn't blame Tobirama for this even if some part of him wanted to. 

Even if they had never faced each other in combat, they were still enemies on the opposite sides of a generations' old conflict. To expect Tobirama to trust him in any way when she was bound, most likely deprived of chakra, and injured, nevermind stuck in a small enclosed space with him, was ridiculous. She had absolutely no reason to do that.

Madara understood it. Yes, it was just a bitter pill to swallow to see someone look at you as if they expect the absolute worst from you, but he did get it.

After all, the Uchiha clan despised the White Oni and didn't exactly make a secret out of it. The stories about how the Senju as a whole were the scum of this earth and therefore didn't deserve to live only made things worse.

And if that wasn't enough on its own, Izuna took it as a personal affront that Tobirama could actually fight him on an even footing and often match him blow for blow even though she had no kekkei genkai to back her up. Madara was certain his brother's hubris played a significant role in why Izuna just couldn't accept the fact Tobirama might be his equal in anything and why any time the Senju managed to push back or even beat him at this game Izuna had always thought himself the absolute master of, it fueled his hate to the point he would rant for hours about all the ways in which he would "make the demon pay".

Though Madara had only heard about their fights and never witnessed them, his attention focused entirely on Hashirama once they entered the battlefield, he knew enough from Izuna's stories to gather that his brother played dirty more often than not, to the point where it toed the line of being too much. They had even argued about one particular instance where Izuna had used the death of Tobirama's brother, Itama, against her, weaving what he knew of it into one of the nastiest genjutsu Madara has ever heard of.

Knowing all of this, it was no wonder Tobirama would recoil from him or think he would sooner hurt her more than offer a helping hand.

[ko-riacchi]

Snatched

Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader (x Shouto) Genre: Smut Length: 3.8k Tags: Cuckolding, Creampie, Rough Sex, no prep Warnings: Non-Con, Netorare

Synopsis: It was a normal day on patrol for you and your fiancé Shouto. It was about to take a turn for the worse however.

I created the Word file for this fic in September of 2019, so if that tells you anything about how long it takes me to actually sit down and write...

Feedback/Concrit/etc. is appreciated. I’m not confident in my writing at all tbh

Your workday had been boring so far. You and Shouto had been patrolling the outskirts of town for the better part of five hours, conversing quietly while letting your gaze wander around to check for anything unusual or sketchy.

So far, nothing had happened and your feet guided you towards the industrial part of the city, the last part of your route before you would head back and report to the hero agency before doing some paperwork and finally being able to leave for the day.

“So, what would you like me to cook today,” you asked Shouto, your hands playing around with the skirt that made up the bottom part of your hero outfit.

“Hmm…,” Shouto began and fell silent for a moment. He lifted his right hand to his face stroking his chin while looking at you.

“Soba.”

You gave him a look. “Shouto, we had Soba yesterday, we can’t eat Soba every day,” you chided him.

“Why?” He looked you in the eyes, appearing to honestly be curious about why it wouldn’t be possible to eat soba daily.

“Because…,” you started to explain, then huffed, looked at Shouto and smiled a little. “Let me just pick it out then.”

Shouto answered your smile with one of his own. “Okay.”

You continued your patrol through the industrial area, making sure to pass all the spots where drug dealer, small-time villains and shady people in general liked to conduct their business. Although, since it was barely ten past five and the weather was nice and sunny without any clouds in sight, you didn’t have high hopes to actually find something or someone out of the ordinary.

Stopping and stretching your arms up to the sky, you let out a little sigh, enjoying the warmth of the sun, and closed your eyes for a second before jogging up to Shouto and taking his right hand into your left.

“By the way, my mum called the other day and asked if we still needed anything for the wedding. I told her we would be fine but if you can think of something, let me know, so I can call her.”

Giddily, you swung your arm that was connected to Shouto’s, who let you do as you wanted, smiling softly as he saw your anticipation every time you two talked about the upcoming wedding.

“I will,” he told you and gripped your hand a bit more tightly. His way of showing love and anticipation was subtler than yours but over the years you had become quite good in deciphering the stoic man.

In that fashion, you continued to make your way through the industrial area, sometimes conversing about interesting things that had happened at work or with your friends, sometimes just silently enjoying patrol together.

 You had almost completed your last stop of the day when you noticed a figure in the corner of your eye, standing in the shadows of an alley way and grinning at you. It took you a second to process exactly who was standing there but when you did, you started sprinting towards him. You left behind a confused Shouto, who had just been looking in the opposite direction, but he immediately collected himself and started running after you. If you had started sprinting, you had to have a good reason for that; a villain or something equally sinister must have caught your eye.

You had a head start of around 15 meters and Shouto ran behind you, watching your figure as you exited the alleyway. Your feet came to a halt in an open space, an area which at one point must’ve been a truck loading area, judging from the surrounding buildings. In front of you, a figure stood, a good 5 meters between them and you, and Shouto could see you changing your stance, ready to react should the figure attack.

As he was nearing you two, he finally managed to make out who exactly it was standing before you. The black clothing and hair had been pretty non-descriptive but as soon as Shouto saw the burn scars that covered almost all of his body, his eyes widened and he started running faster, hoping to catch up with you before the fight that surely was about to break out had begun.

 Only 5 meters separated you from Shouto now and another second and he would’ve been at your side, when suddenly he crashed head-first into… nothing? He ricocheted off something and fell to the floor but when he lifted his head, he couldn’t see anything. He got up and tried to walk forward, only to feel an invisible wall in his way. Both hands collided with the barrier and he frantically moved them to the left and right to find a way out. In the end, Shouto realized that he had been trapped from all sides. From his positions, he could now see that Dabi was walking leisurely towards you, you stepping back every time he took one step forward but not taking the chance to turn around to see where Shouto was and give Dabi an opening to attack.

Shouto stepped back from the wall and positioned himself sideways, a stomp creating a wave of ice that rushed towards the barrier in hopes of destroying it. It collided with the wall and crushed into bits and pieces, proving to be futile. He just HAD to get through this wall and to you! So he started to barrage his prison with spear after spear of ice, in hope to weaken it enough for it to break down.

You were still cautiously monitoring Dabi’s movement, keeping as much distance as possible, in case he suddenly decided to attack. He had not said anything so far, only sent a lopsided grin your way as he continued his leisure pace towards you. That was about to change though.

“What a pleasant surprise meeting you two here!” he spoke, his tone that of a person meeting friends after a long time.

“Too bad I can’t say the same!” you snarled back and took another step backwards. You had heard Shouto behind you when he had sent out attacks against something, but you hadn’t seen what occupied him exactly and only knew that he had to be not too far behind you.

For now, you needed to get closer to Shoto so you could come up with a plan on how to take on Dabi and any possible allies that were lurking in the dark. You continued stepping backwards. The sounds of Shoto in the background got louder and louder but you could not hear the telltale sounds of a fight taking place. What was occupying him?

Dabi had taken a step forward each time you stepped back but it didn’t seem like he was trying to close the distance just yet. You knew very well that he was capable of sending his flames towards you, so you figured that he just didn’t see the need. Another step backwards had you crashing into something solid and in instinct your head flew around to see what was blocking your path. You couldn’t remember there being a wall behind you, surely you would’ve registered that.

But when you turned around you found… nothing? Only Shouto, standing a meter away from you, panting like he had just run a marathon. Your body was still angled towards Dabi, so you quickly turned back to face him, a soft sigh of relief leaving your lips when you saw that he was still standing away a few meters. Your hand extended backwards, and sure enough, you felt a barrier just behind you.

“Is that a quirk?” you asked Shoto, hoping that he would be able to hear you through whatever that thing was.

“Seems like it,” he answered, his voice strained. “I can’t break through it with my ice. You have to get the person who’s doing this… I can’t help you like this.”

Dabi let out a chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll let you do that,” she said, coming closer now.

You weren’t sure what to do, step aside and around the invisible wall? If that was even possible. Or stay and let Dabi come dangerously close to you. You eventually made your mind up, taking a step to the side and feeling around the wall, trying to see where it would lead.

The only warning you got was a “I don’t think so” from Dabi and suddenly he was standing right in front of you, blocking your way off. Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up. How had he managed to come close this quickly?

You ducked and tried to slip away sideways, but Dabi grabbed your arm and pulled you back, slamming you against the barrier. You heard Shoto shouting from behind you, telling Dabi to let you go but he only grinned in answer and lifted his free arm, a blue flame igniting in his palm. “I don’t think you’re in the position to make any demands right now,” he chuckled, bringing the flame dangerously close to your face. You leaned back as much as you could, your entire body pressed up against the wall, the heat of the flames uncomfortably licking over your skin.

“What do you want?” you asked, and you hated your voice for sounding so weak in this moment.

“Me?” Dabi said, extinguishing the flame and grabbing you face with his hand instead. “I just wanna have some fun,” he grinned. “Work’s been pretty boring lately, you know…” His fingers pressed harder down on your cheeks, making your lips pucker and your jaw ache. “And I think I just found just the perfect plaything.”

Shouto banged on the walls. “Leave her alone!” he shouted, another barrage of ice banging against the barrier. You could feel the vibrations on you back where it was pressed against it, but the barrier itself didn’t move, didn’t break or shatter. It was solid.

Dabi let go of your face and leered at Shouto over your shoulder. “I don’t think I will,” he said, his hand now moving down to trail along your thighs. Your hero costume consisted of a bodysuit, a short skirt covering your hips and waist, but your legs were bare, so when Dabi touched you, you could feel it on your skin and it erupted into goosebumps immediately. Was he about to do what you were thinking? No, surely this was just to make you nervous, fuck with your head a bit. Sadly though, it was working and in a split-second decision, you felt like you needed to get away from the villain and pulled at the arm he was holding harshly, hoping that he would lose his balance and you could get away. You ducked under his arms and tried to flee but his grip on your arm had not faltered and he pulled you back, this time slamming you against the wall with your chest, stepping close behind you to hold you there with his body.

“I told you not to do that,” he growled, his hand heating up and singing your arm, the smell of burning flesh beginning to waft from it. Pain shot through your body and tears sprung up into your eyes as you cried out. “I get it! I get it!” you told him, sobbing at the pain. Dabi hummed in response and he reeled back the flames, his grip still iron-like on your arm however and pressing into the charred flesh. “Let’s hope I won’t have to do this again. Would be a shame to burn a cute face like yours.”

Shouto had once more banged against the walls, furiously trying to get them to shatter. How could he just… stand there while his fiancée was being tortured by Dabi. His hands curled into fists, tiny specs of blood trailing from where his nails had dug into his skin.

Dabi simply chuckled at Shouto’s desperate face, his free hand lifting up to your face, turning it towards him. “Really would be a shame,” he said with a grin, before leaning closer and pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened and you tried to move away but when you felt the hand on your face heat up again, you stilled, tears leaking from your mouth while Dabi kissed you and pulled at you lower lip with his teeth. “Open up,” he growled when you didn’t move and you obeyed, feeling like there was no way for you to get out of this situation. Your quirk simply wasn’t made for close-range combat.

As soon as you had opened your mouth, Dabi’s tongue snaked inside, exploring every little nook and cranny that before had exclusively belong to Shouto. More tears rolled down your cheeks as Dabi made a slurping sound, pulling your upper lip into his mouth slightly before he parted from you, looking back at Shouto with a grin. “Delicious,” he commented, loving the way that Shouto looked at him with rage in his eyes.

“But this is not what I’m here for,” he eventually said, letting go of your face. You wanted to spit out the disgusting taste Dabi had left in your mouth, but you feared that this would only lead to him burning you again, so you held the desire back, hoping that he had simply done this to rile Shouto up a bit and this was it. He had said that this was not his goal after all, right?

While you were lost in your thoughts, trying to calculate the next step Dabi would take, he had sent Shouto another grin, making sure that the man’s eyes were on Dabi’s hands as they laid on your thigh again.

You shot up, turning your head to face Dabi with wide eyes.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of time,” Dabi lamented as he let his hand trail upwards and under your skirt. “So, I’m just gonna have get to the main part.”

You heard Shouto shouting but you couldn’t see him, your eyes still fixed on Dabi as he pulled at the bottom the bottom of your body suit to the side, uncovering your pussy for his fingers to explore.

“Don’t!” you shouted instinctively, trying to get him to stop but a slap to your pussy had you lurching forward and against the barrier. Dabi laughed and two of his fingers dipped inside you, prodding against your walls as your teeth clenched at the painful intrusion.

“Yeah, should work,” you heard Dabi mumbled behind you and the next second, his fingers left you and he popped them into his mouth, humming at the taste.

“Gotta say, this one really IS delicious,” he commented, his eyes looking at Shouto, who was watching the situation unfold in front of him with a painful look in his eyes.

Once Dabi had cleaned his fingers, he moved his hand towards his belt, expertly unbuckling it with one hand and shoving his pants down, just enough so he could pull out his cock from his pants.

“Relax or this is gonna hurt,” he whispered into your ear, his hand pushing against your back so your ass would stick out more.

Your wide eyes were looking at Shouto now, knowing what was about to happen. “Don’t, please,” you whispered, a sob leaving your lips. You were going to be violated in front of your fiancé. You were going to get fucked by a villain in front of the love of your life. “Shouto, please, close your eyes,” you begged him as he stood in front of you, both of his hands pressed against the barrier and his face directly in front of you. He shook his head. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” you begged and eventually, Shouto nodded and closed his eyes, a tear running down his cheek just as Dabi prodded your entrance with the tip of his dick.

“You better watch what I’m about to do,” Dabi warned him, not liking that he was not looking at them anymore. “Or your little bitch is gonna be a burnt little bitch by the time I’m done with her.”

At those words, Shoto’s eyes immediately opened again, looking at Dabi with fear in his eyes.

“Don’t watch me, watch her,” Dabi ordered with a grin and as soon as Shouto’s eyes had moved to your crying face again, Dabi pushed into you.

You let out a howl, your face contorting in pain as Dabi buried inch after inch inside your tight little cunt. Your eyes looked up, to the side, anywhere beside Shouto’s face with was still in front of you. You couldn’t bare looking at him.

Dabi let out a small groan. “Damn, you’re tight,” he said, pulling back a little before pushing in again, this time further. “You’re boytoy that small?” He laughed at his own joke and grabbed your hips to hold you still, slamming himself into your cunt to the hilt. Your body was jolted forward and against the wall, a pained cry leaving your lips as your eyes closed. Dabi was big, too big for you and it felt like he was splitting you open in the middle.

You didn’t have time to get used to him however, as Dabi immediately began to thrust into you. He was hunched over you, his head laying on your shoulder and his mouth directly next to your ear, so you could hear every little groan he made. It disgusted you and only made you sob harder.

It must’ve made you clench down on him however, as he let out a small hiss of pleasure and in turn made him only pick up his pace, your body now getting repeatedly slammed against the barrier with Shouto having no choice but to watch the horrifying things Dabi did to you.

After a while the initial pain had subsided, and your sobbing calmed down. All you tried to do now, was to dissociate from everything that was happening, hoping to get lost in your own world while Dabi used you for his pleasure.

Unfortunately for you, Dabi noticed the empty look on your face and he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. “That won’t do,” he growled into your ear and the hand that had been holding onto your arm up until now let go so he could beginning rubbing at your clit.

As soon as you felt his fingers rubbing you, you were brought back to reality and a pained whine left your lips.

“Say, how would you like to cum in front of your boyfriend?” Dabi whispered into your ear, his fingers picking up in speed and flicking at your clit in the same rhythm as his thrust. “I’m sure he would like to see you come undone at the hands of a villain.”

He laughed when he felt you clench around him and his eyes moved towards Shouto. “She likes the idea, I felt her squeeze my dick,” he told him.

“Fucking die and rot in hell,” Shouto simply replied, his brows furrowed and his eyes full of tears he refused to shed. You had it much worse than him, there was no way he could allow himself to cry.

Dabi let out a bellowing laugh. “Sorry, can’t die just yet. Still got some unfinished business, you see…”

He soon turned his attention back to you however and began pounding into you like a man possessed, his fingers bringing you closer and closer to an orgasm you desperately tried to hold back. He could hear you breathing hitch and felt your pussy trying to squeeze him dry; he knew it wouldn’t take much longer for you to cream on his dick.

A few more thrusts and he knew that he had reached his goal when you cried out, your muscles clenching around him and your entire body twitching as you came all over his dick.

“Fuck, you’re sucking me dry,” Dabi groaned, trying to continue his thrusts but finding it hard with how hard you were gripping his dick. “That desperate for my cum, huh?”

You were panting and crying and trying to calm down again, but those words made you perk up. “No! Don’t” you exclaimed, looking back at him with a horrified gaze.

“Don’t what?” Dabi asked with a snicker, although his breathing had picked up as well as he got closer and closer to his own peak.

“Please, don’t cum inside!” you begged. “Anything else but that!”

Dabi thrust once, twice, and felt his dick twitch as his orgasm crashed over him.

“Oops,” he said with a laugh as his dick spurted his thick cum deep into your cunt. “Too late.” He groaned, pressing inside you as far as he could, lazily thrusting into you a few more times before he pulled out and let go of you, watching as you crumbled down to the floor.

“That was fun and all,” he told you in a conversational tone as he stuffed his dick back inside his pants. “But I got places to be, you know.”

His attention shifted back to Shouto, who was looking at you sitting on the ground, a small pool of cum dripping from your pussy and onto the floor.

“Hope you have a great day, Todoroki Shouto,” Dabi said to him with a wave and a malicious grin and in an instant he was gone, as if he had never been there in the first place.

It was eerily silent now, and Shouto simply pressed against the barrier, wanting nothing more than to go to your side, comfort you and make sure you got to an hospital to look over your wounds.

It took a minute before the barrier vanished, and Shouto had been pressing against it so hard that he stumbled forward a step once it was gone.

He immediately rushed to your side, embracing you and whispering into your ear how sorry he was, that you needed to go to a hospital, get your wounds checked and maybe talk to someone.

You had been silent up until now, your gaze on the floor but when Shouto rambled on and on about how he would take you to people, TELL people what had just happened, your head shot up and you looked at him, shaking it with wide eyes.

“No,” you whispered, pushing his hands away from your body so you could get up. “No, I’m fine.”

You grimaced at the feeling of your sore cunt but ignored it, simply pushing your body suit back into place and dusting off your clothes. “I’m fine,” you repeated. “Let’s just go home…”

With those words, you began walking off, heading into the direction of your shared apartment. Shouto followed your movements with wide eyes, getting up again and trying to get you to reconsider but you ignored his words, simply continuing to walk back home.

Eventually, Shouto gave up trying to talk some sense into you. It would do neither him nor you any good if he forced you to go to the hospital, and so he could only make sure that no one paid any special attention to you until you had reached the safety of your apartment.

Hopefully, you would listen to him eventually.

[holden-caulfield]

Hi bestie! It's me again 😌

So I've been thinking : divination class where reader and Draco have to read each others destiny (you pick the divination method you like best) and they realize it's connected (and in my imagination there's a lot of angst because it's Draco we're talking about and this boy does not have a path of wildflowers ahead 👀, but also fluff because reader is soft)

Voilà ! Thank you for taking my request, ily 🖤

My love, so nice seeing you here again, i love your requests😩

I spent an entire afternoon looking up divination methods and how to read palms. My conclusions? I know nothing.

Also, I tried to make it the slightest bit angsty but it came out fluffier than expected :/

Trouble And Sufferings

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: draco and reader attend a divination class together which results in revelations for the both of them.

Warnings: none, the title is totally misleading

Word Count: 1276

//

"Dear class, open your minds and prepare to plunge into the future with the elegant art of palmistry! Today you'll be divided in couples and will read each other's future using only the terminal part of your upper limbs!"

Trelawney's odd words greeted you to class as you looked for a seat to assist to the lesson. Your usual spot was taken so you surveyed the entire class for a free chair, finding it in the higher row.

The seat next to you didn't remain empty for too long for an unfamiliar figure approached you and occupied it quickly.

"Please open your textbooks at page 211 and grasp your partner's palm, i will wander through the class to help those in need."

You opened the textbook in front of you and noticed the person beside you do the same.

"Would you like to go first?" you said glancing up at the blond sat next to you.

"Sure, yes." he stretched his arm in front of him and offered you his hand. You took it in your own and couldn't help but notice how incredibly slender his fingers were, adorned by a couple of silver rings that gave you shivers whenever you barely grazed them with your fingers.

You started running your thumbs on his palm, feeling the softness of it, but perceived him suddenly tensed up and softened your touch even more.

"So, this is... your life line. I think." you said, sliding your thumbs along his palm's most prominent line. You switched your eyes to the page as your thumbs kept gliding on his hand and continued.

"And this one should be..." you said while tracing the line just below the first one with the utmost delicacy, "it should be the head line."

You set your eyes on his face and caught him staring at you.

"Are you sure?"

"Not at all." you admitted with a shy smile lowering your gaze back to your conjoined hands.

He then lifted his hand from your clutch only to grasp your own hand in the process, exposing your palm to his grey eyes.

"The biggest one is the head line, this one is the life line." he said almost whispering as he traced your palm delicately. You felt shivers running up your back but did your best to hide them as his cold eyes bored directly into yours.

"What does it say then?" you asked, inching forward now completely invested in the activity. He seemed to know what he was doing, he probably paid more attention to divination classes than you did and you were thankful for that.

"Well, your life line isn't too long, but it's quite deep." he looked up from your hand to catch your worried expression and let out a low chuckle, "It does not mean you'll have a short life."

You sighed in relief and smiled warmly as he gazed into your book, moving slightly closer to your body. "At least i hope so."

You jabbed his arm lightly and he smirked in response, your hand still safely in his.

"If it doesn't mean i will die soon, what does it mean then?" you asked impatiently, now sitting on the edge of your seat.

"That, I don't know." you have him a disappointed look and retrieved your hand from his hold.

"Give me yours, now that i now which one is which, it's child's play." you didn't miss him roll his eyes at your comments and grasped his wrist once more. "Your head line is fragmented."

"Nice...?"

"Yeah, nice, it means you'll have moments of revelation. Or mental strife, you choose." you declared confidently, eyes still set on the page.

"I don't think it works like that, you know?" he interjected cockily. You lifted your eyes from the book to catch him staring at it, way closer than before. You felt suddenly extremely hot, as if the sun was inside the room, right next to you, burning your skin.

"How are you two doing? You, my dear, tell me what you see!" Draco stepped back when professor Trelawney approached you and you weren't quite sure whether you were grateful or annoyed because of it. You returned your attention to Draco's palm and began.

"Uhm... i see a great future full of... trials but happiness in the end?" you had no idea what you were saying and apparently Trelawney knew too since she grasped Draco's hand in her own and began scrutinizing it.

"Oh dear... this is not good, not good at all! Misfortunes! Hard times! Oh, your past hasn't been kind but your future might be even worse, unless..."

"Unless what?" you asked alarmingly as Trelawney kept predicting Draco's unfortunate future, but he didn't seem too fazed, keeping his eyes on the bizarre professor.

"Unless another force comes into his life, that is." she said matter-of-factly but your confused expression was enough for her to move her wand in the air and summon a crystal ball directly on the table.

"Give me your hands, my dears, we'll embark on a journey now! Please liberate your minds so that we can explore your future together." you and Draco offered your hands to the professor, who grasped it immediately in her own, giving each other a skeptical look.

You closed your eyes and did your best to 'liberate your mind'. You heard her mutter something under her breath but kept your head blank.

You then opened your eyes and saw Trelawney move closer to the crystal ball to inspect it but as soon as she saw its content, she jumped back, a hand over her heart in shock.

"What happened? What is it?" you asked, more and more curious, and immediately looked down at the ball with Draco who had been imperturbable until then.

You could see nothing in it but swirling liliac smoke and, judging from Draco's expression, he saw the same. You tried looking up at him, hoping to find answers, but were met with more doubts. You both faced professor Trelawney who was still gaping at you two.

Draco was growing annoyed with the whole situation and Trelawney's obvious overreaction, so he took the book from the table and began skimming through it.

"Professor? Is it that bad?" you asked. Trelawney regained some sort of control but did not speak yet.

"Purple smoke is a sign of trouble, says here, so i'd say yes." stated Draco, closing the book with a huff.

"Trouble that can be overcome!" spoke suddenly the professor with her usual prophetic tone, "But that's not all! Dear boy, the things I saw... and you! You, my dear, you are crucial!"

You furrowed your brows as Trelawney's lanky index finger pointed at you.

"I'll be the cause of trouble?"

"On the contrary! You are the solution!" she spoke a little louder, gaining the attention of other students who were still deciphering palms. "And you, mr Malfoy, you'll be the solution to hers!"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Trelawney got up from her chair and cheerily muttered, "Superb! Indeed superb!" as she continued her path among other students in need of help.

You turned your head towards the blond beside you, looking pensive in his seat. You were still utterly confused by the professor's words and decided to ask him.

"Do you think she's right?"

"Of course not." your face unconsciously fell a little, "She's mad if she thinks that troubles and sufferings are something superb."

You smiled at the comment and caught his eyes, causing a twin smirk to appear on his face, a face you reckoned was indeed worth the troubles and sufferings you were apparently going to undergo.

//

Taglist <3

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[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (03)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Note: OC is a lawyer but the author knows nothing about law except the three law subjects she took last semester. errors. ah. there will always be errors here bc english isn’t my first language. anyway!!! enjoy!

Jimin wasn't lying when he said you were a mess. This was evident to Jeongguk the second he stepped inside your apartment.

Pile of cardboard boxes and papers were cluttered all over the floor, causing him to feel uneasy. The faint colors visible in his eyes didn't help to calm his nerves. It was as if he suddenly became hypersensitive to his surroundings.

He assumed that your house wasn't really that untidy, but as stated, the colors made it seem like it was untidier.

"Hi there, buddy." Jeongguk forced a smile at the cat glaring at him. He remembered Jimin telling him that your cat was a bitch. The fury pet was making this strange, scary sound. Jeongguk suddenly wished you were here to stop the cat from attacking him.

He wasn't expecting you to lock yourself inside your room the moment you realized that he was your soulmate.

He was so startled by your reaction that his first instinct was to run after you. The thing was, your cat was blocking your bedroom door—stopping him from intruding your personal space. It was obvious that the little animal didn't like the fact that Jeongguk invited himself inside your home.

Jeongguk didn't know why you were hiding from him. In your defense, you were embarrassed. What were you supposed to say to your soulmate? How were you going to explain to him that the reason why you looked like a mess was because of your demanding job?

Being a civil lawyer was exhausting. One second you're negotiating settlement with the other side's attorney, then you would just find yourself filing motions in court and of course, there were many instances where you're standing before the jury and judge to present a case.

Expertise wasn't the only thing necessary in law. You also needed a great amount of empathy so that you could understand your clients. You cared for them a lot; this was why it was such a big deal for you whenever they choose to omit facts.

You hated it when your clients were being dishonest, you didn't need them to be innocent. You only wanted them to tell you the absolute truth so that you could properly defend them. It wasn't like your job was easy. The fact that most people living in your world see in black and white was already a pain in the ass. Earlier this day, you had a client who was suing a businessperson for selling fake whitening products. She claimed that she spent a whopping two thousand dollars to get that fair skin tone. Sadly, it didn't work.

The opposing side asked your client this: how can you say that the products don’t work when you can’t even see colors?

You were shocked to learn this. Your client was subject to a color test for eyes. She said she could see colors when in fact, she couldn't. Actually, the only reason why the vendor sold your client the whitening products was because she also lied to the seller. The latter's rule was that she wouldn't allow people who see in black and white to purchase her products. This was so she could protect her business' image from fraudster like your client.

Things like this often happened in court. The one you encountered were usually easier to resolve, unlike what criminal lawyers face. This, however, didn't mean your job should be taken lightly.

What happened in court today actually took a toll on you. Your boss humiliated you in front of your colleagues, saying that he couldn't believe an experienced lawyer like you would make such rookie mistake. This made you feel like a loser that's why you decided to go home early to rest. You knew you couldn't work when your heart was this heavy.

You ran yourself a bath the moment you reached your apartment. Jimin was bombarding your phone with text messages to remind you that Jeongguk, a friend of his, was going to drop at your place later today since he was interested to be your roommate.

You simply replied 'Yes, I haven't forgotten. Stop pestering me,' to your best friend. Truthfully, Jimin hadn't shut up about this guy named Jeongguk since last week. He kept telling you that he was the perfect replacement for Seulgi, your former roommate.

You just shrugged it off. Honestly, you didn't care if Jeongguk was the perfect roommate or not. At this point, you would take anyone in. You seriously needed someone who could help you with the household chores.

The warm water grazing your skin made you feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you're off to dreamland; however, your little slumber was disrupted by loud knocks coming from your front door.

"Shit!" Your eyes went wide upon realizing that your supposed to be new roommate was already at the door. As if to confirm the horror, your phone rang.

Jimin was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Jeongguk is in front of your door!"

"I know. I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." You got out of the tub, hurriedly putting on your bathrobe.

"Talk to you later!" You ended the voice call, rushing towards the door. Unfortunately, you slipped on the wet floor.

You whined in pain. Luck was truly not on your side today, but instead of getting annoyed, you simply stood up and went your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking so I slipped down the floor and I..." You were already blabbering right after opening the door. You hadn't seen your future roommate's face because it was easier to lie without looking at someone in the eyes.

You didn't know why you told him you heard his first knock, when in reality, you didn't. You guessed you just hated disappointing people. What happened with your boss today was something you couldn't let to be repeated again. You couldn't bear to irritate another person.

You kept yourself busy as you reasoned out. You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jeongguk to see his reaction.

It was like the world stopped.

No. You did not see colors instantly. What you felt was something strange—mystical perhaps. It was just like how they described it in books and movies.

You thought people were exaggerating about what they claimed they felt when they met their soulmates.

Apparently, they were not.

You know the feeling of finally seeing the rainbow after the strong storm? It was like that. Except this was way better. Your young self was probably rejoicing now. Being able to meet and look in your soulmate's eyes was dazzling.

The colors were becoming visible now, it was faint—this was in contrast to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You suddenly became very self-conscious with what you looked like. You were wrong. Your young self wasn't that happy because she wasn't expecting to meet her soulmate like this.

You were aware that you looked awful. The bags under your bloodshot eyes were probably so deep. The soap suds in your hair made you appear ridiculous. The most horrifying of all? You were wearing a bathrobe designed with the face of your favorite cartoon character.

"Uh—"

You ran away, locking yourself in your room before Jeongguk could finish what he was about to say.

Your heart was beating so fast as you stared in the mirror. The disgust you felt intensified. God. You looked horrible. You mentally cursed the brand of the mascara you were wearing. So much for claiming to be smudge proof! Curse yourself too because this wouldn't happen in the first place if you only refrained from crying over your boss' mean words, but it seemed like you never learned. You just scolded yourself from crying easily, but here you were, tears were painting your cheeks once again.

"No..." Your lips quivered. You were stronger than this. You weren't going to ruin your chance with your soulmate.

Determined, you quickly changed into a sage dress. Your hands were trembling because of your new found excitement. You loved colors ever since you were a kid. The fact that you couldn't see them didn't stop you from learning its meaning. You studied good color combination before. You were aware how to aesthetically match the hues. For instance, you knew that you would look ridiculous if you wore a neon green shirt and bright pink jeans. You were always careful in choosing what to wear, so now that you could finally see colors without referring to your color palette generator, you were beyond happy.

When you looked decent enough, you decided to finally face your soulmate. The first thing you saw as you opened your bedroom door was Jeongguk sitting on your couch—this was a very shocking scene. No. You weren't surprised because he was casually plopped down on your sofa, what you didn't expect was to see Miri, your bitch of a cat, to be so comfortable on Jeongguk's lap. Your pet looked at peace; the usual hiss she was making was replaced by a silent purring. Her bambi eyes mirrored your soulmate's same big, doe eyes.

You cleared your throat to get Jeongguk's attention.

"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind." You couldn't decipher what he was feeling. Jeongguk's voice was soft, but there was no hint of emotion there. His expression was also unreadable.

Jeongguk tore his gaze away from you when he realized that you were staring. As if this wasn't already awkward for him, you went on to say something that made him more uncomfortable.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you! Are you going to move in with me now?" You plopped down beside Jeongguk, squeezing your body between him and the arm of your sofa. Miri hissed since she was astounded by your sudden action. Actually, Jeongguk was surprised too. Your couch was pretty spacious; he didn't understand why you had to press yourself beside him.

Jeongguk also didn't know why you sounded so hopeful. The sparks in your eyes caused him to scowl; however, this didn't stop you from speaking your hopeless thoughts.

"We could do a lot of things together! I had planned everything since I was young!" You giggled. You didn't know why you were so comfortable telling him things. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you two were soulmates.

However Jeongguk was confused with your weird idea of wanting to do all of this romantic stuff with him. The uneasiness he felt couldn't be contained anymore when you abruptly talked about dating—as in dating him.

"Whoa, whoa..." He cut you off, arching his brow and moving away from you. "Slow down, will you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." You blushed, immediately realizing that you had gone too far. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I was just excited to meet you." You couldn't help but beam at him.

Jeongguk continued to raise his brow at you.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to find a roommate?"

It was your turn to raise a brow at him.

"N-No, I just..." You breathed in, unsure of what to say. "I'm just happy to finally meet my soulmate."

"Soulmate?"

You flinched because of the bitterness in his voice. His innocent eyes turned dark, he was glaring at you. Miri was startled once more. She jumped on your lap because she was getting scared of Jeongguk.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe in soulmates." The word 'soulmate' sounded so rough coming from him, making you flinch again.

Many people had told you that you were good at gauging the feelings of other people, this was why your heart skipped a beat when you saw pain and anger crossed Jeongguk's feature. It was as if he was betrayed by someone.

"It's the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Only stupid people believe in soulmates. I mean—" Jeongguk sucked in a breath. He was so annoyed that he didn't even know how to express his thoughts without breaking apart. "It's limiting the possibilities for people. Why am I required to fall in love with someone I barely know? Why should I leave the person I truly love just because a person meant to be the love of my life," he paused, quoting the words love of my life in the air. "Helped me see colors? It's like forcing me to do something I don't—no, I can't do. It's such a burden. Love can't be bought. I refuse to be with people just because they helped me."

There was silence after Jeongguk's long speech of the reasons why he didn't—or as what he claimed—couldn't love you.

Jeongguk wetted his bottom lip. The silence was making him hate himself. He hated himself because he saw the tears forming in your eyes, an obvious sign that you were hurt because of what he said. But most importantly, he hated you.

It was unlikely of him to hate someone he just met—or to simply hate anyone at all, but everything about you was making him mad as hell.

He hated your hopeful eyes, he hated your beliefs, he hated that you were the person hindering him from being with Red.

He knew it was unfair to blame you since Red chose to leave on her own, but he still couldn't help himself because the idea of soulmate was what urged her to leave.

You were Jeongguk's soulmate and for him, it meant nothing. So with a furrowed brow, he stared hard at you as he said this:

"I'm making you choose right now. Either accept me as Jeongguk, your tenant or Jeongguk, your soulmate. But just so you know, I will never stay with you if you treat me like a soulmate."

His word stung, though you were aware that the only way to make him stay was to choose the former option. At least this way, you got to be with your soulmate.

The colors you see were starting to fade away and it was okay...

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 5: Vent Shenanigans and Keurig Conversations

AN: Okay, this is the last that anyone is going to hear of me for two weeks. Then I’m out of school and will be ready to crank out some more chaos. Until then, I hope you guys enjoy!

Television shows made navigating through vents appear much easier than it was in real life. Then again, they also made being a superhero look easy too, and Marinette was painfully aware how that was false. 

Her knees and back ached from crawling through the low ceiling vents, and though she wasn’t claustrophobic, she was decidedly cramped. And if that’s how she felt, Damian, at more than half a foot taller, had to be doubly suffering. She asked how he was doing.

“I've crawled through far more pleasant vents before,” he replied seriously. “If we could continue quickly, we’ll come out near another vent gate in about ten or so minutes.”

They continued in silence until they came to a fork in the vent.

“Which way?” asked Marinette.

Damian hesitated. “I didn’t see this on the plans.”

“So, you don’t know.”  

“I did not say that.”

“So which way do we go?”

Silence.

Marinette sighed and closed her eyes, poking for the pooled energy inside herself. Being the Guardian of the Miraculous had helped her innate magic to grow in leaps and bounds, but it was her Ladybug powers she ultimately searched for. After being bonded with Tikki for so long, certain… qualities tended to bleed over. One such ability was making decisions infused with good luck. It wasn’t easy, but it was one she had been working hard to master.  

A glimmer of magic burned in her chest, and a fleeting whispered voice told her to turn left. She smiled in the dark of the vent.

“Left,” she said confidently, “we go left.”

“Why?”

Marinette’s smile turned into a smirk, even though Damian couldn’t see her. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try.” The quickness made the reply appear casual, but Marinette could tell by the steel in his tone it told more truth than intended.

‘Who the hell did I team up with?’ her brain once again asked.

“Let’s leave me off the list,” she said, bypassing the dangerous remark with a gymnast's grace. “Come on.”

She crawled around the corner and, after only a moment’s hesitation, heard Damian follow after her.

Silence reigned for another minute or so before far in the distance they spotted light.

“Oh, thank the Kwamis, an exit,” Marinette muttered.

Damian grumbled behind her. “None of this appeared on the plans.”

“Learn to roll with the flow.” The light grew stronger, so she flicked off her phone flashlight. “Chances are it didn’t take your brothers too long to track me back to our hiding spot. They probably know we’re in the vents. If they found the same plan you did…”

“They won’t have any clue about this.” She could hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Exactly.”

The light flooded upwards from the vent floor. The slats in between large enough to view the room below. Marinette crawled over it and maneuvered herself around to face Damian.

“Nice to see your face again.”

The dim light from the vent illuminated his face. “N-Nice to see yours too,” he said. It was at that point, it dawned on Marinette that Damian's view the whole way through the vent was an up close look at her butt. From the heat radiating off her cheeks, it was likely her face was as red as his. She was torn between laughing hysterically and curling into mortified ball and never emerging.

Instead of either of those rational actions though, her mouth, her stupid, stupid mouth, decided to betray her.

“Enjoy the view?” she asked with a grin. ''What are you doing?' She yelled at herself, that was the last thing she wanted to utter.

Damian, if it was even possible, turned redder, and coughed lightly. “You have, uh, your bottom is quite shapely.” By the end of his confession, his voice was a high-pitched squeak, more appropriate for a preteen, then an adult. It took every bit of self-control for Marinette to keep from falling apart laughing.

“Thanks, I exercise,” she responded cheekily. A familiar magical hum settled in her breastbone. Her connection to the Kwamis magic. Marinette held back from rolling her eyes, even as her inner panic grew. One of the Kwamis was helping her to flirt. Probably Plagg judging by her cheesy replies.

‘They are the physical embodiments of the powers of the universe, and they choose to help me flirt. What even is my life?’

“It's working well,” replied Damian, with more of a teasing tone than an embarrassed one, although his cheeks still appeared redder than normal.

“Yeah, well…” Marinette sat there struggling for a reply, when noise from below cut off their impromptu flir- teasing session.

“I swear to God, if I find out who caused the mess in the Market Hall, I'll strangle them with my bare hands,” complained a voice from below.

Marinette winced when she saw Damian looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t meant to cause that much damage.

“Oh, come on, Ian, it’s not like it was unscrewed on purpose. A bolt probably loosened and the shelf got bumped into. Blame it on bad luck.”

“Well, can I strangle bad luck then?”

Marinette held back an undainty snort. Plagg's constant whining and complaining coming to mind. ‘There I certain days I definitely want to.’

“I don’t think so. I’m more worried about the giant cart pile up.” At that, Damian raised a second eyebrow, and Marinette shrugged, she didn't controlled what the Bad Luck Balls did. “We’re gonna need to test all the carts to check for any more loose wheels, that’s gonna take forever. Anyway, are you headed home?”

“Yeah, I’m half an hour over the end of my shift,” responded Ian. Marinette could see two people moving around in the room below. “Ooh look, someone brought in doughnuts! You want one Casey?”

“No thanks, still trying to stay on that diet. I just came in here for a drink and then I’m back out on the floor.” The sound of a fridge door opened. “See you next week.”

“Yeah, you too Casey.”

The sound of another door opened leaving the room below silent once more.

“Shopping carts?” Damian asked, half-amused, and half bewildered. “I didn’t hear about that.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Escape was the highest priority, okay?”  

“When would you find the time to accomplish that?”

Marinette hesitated, there was no good explanation to give that would satisfy him. She wouldn’t tell him about the Miraculous or the Kwamis. It was her job, no her duty, to maintain their safety, and after everything she had fought for, bled for, nearly died for... no matter how comfortable he made her, there was no way he'd learn about what she could do. Especially when she had the feeling he was far more than meets the eye. Which didn’t leave much in the way of a good excuse for what she did and how.

Then, as if understanding Marinette’s great need for a distraction, their stomachs rumbled in unison. They looked at each other for a moment before laughing.

Marinette huffed, wiping away a tear of joy from her eye. “Okay, we need to find food to eat.”

Damian nodded. “The food court is a no go now; Drake will monitor it even more closely than before. We could find a vending machine?”

An idea popped into Marinette’s mind. “Or… how about the doughnuts?”

“Huh?”

She pointed down. “This is the breakroom. Ian mentioned doughnuts.”

“That would be stealing.”

“As opposed to the twenty other things we’ve stolen over the course of the past two hours?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I can back pay those.”

“So, we’ll send them a box of doughnuts once we’ve won. I’m sure the IKEA employees will understand the doughnut's sacrifice to a worthy cause. Besides, breakrooms have coffee machines.”

Damian sneered. “Coffee from a machine will taste will taste like swill.”

“Didn't you say your brother dragged you out of bed at eight this morning? Coffee means caffeine, which means energy.”

He tilted his head and contemplated it for a moment. “Fair point.” He looked at the grate. “It’s probably a ten-foot drop. Can you handle that?”

Marinette had to refrain from rolling her eyes. She had free fallen off the Eiffel Tower before, she could handle a measly ten-foot drop. But Damian wasn't aware of any of that of course. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the laser pen. “Back up, it’s going to get hot in here.”

Marinette averted her eyes while Damian cut the grate away with the laser, the heat making the metal vent shaft turn into a furnace. She wiped away at a bead of sweat forming at her brow. The grate gave way and clattered against the floor below. Damian put away the laser and gave her a quick smirk. He slipped his legs into the hole where the grate had been and jumped to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finally leaving the cramped vent, Marinette maneuvered her legs to dangle over the vent opening and slid out, bracing herself for the landing.

But instead of meeting the floor, she found herself caught in mid-air. Damian had her in his grasp, holding her off the floor by a few inches with his strong arms snug around her waist. Their eyes caught and the air between them grew thick with tension. His bare hands brushed against a sliver of her exposed back, the contact sent shivers up her spine.

Neither of them breathed for a brief moment.

“I told you I could handle the drop,” Marinette said, her words barely above a whisper.

“I know.” Damian’s voice matched hers. The look in his eyes impossible to decipher. His arms tightened for a moment, before letting her slip-free.

Marinette smiled, resting her hands against his arms. “Thanks.”

Damian opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. He stepped back, effectively breaking the bubble around them. Marinette pushed the rapid flutter in her chest away. She could deal with it later when she was far removed from crazy games of hide-and-seek, and dark-skinned boys who made her too comfortable to be safe.

She turned and looked around the room they had dropped into, finding it, thankfully, empty. The last thing they needed was security getting called on them. Spotting the counter with the box of doughnuts on it, Marinette smiled.

She walked over to the box. “Well, it’s no Parisian artisan pastries, but I suppose the chain-restaurant swill will suffice,” she teased, looking back over her shoulder at Damian.  

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he deadpanned. Heading over to the coffee machine to start a new pot. She turned her attention back to the box, the words Krispy Kreme printed on the front in large green letters, several doughnuts still inside.

“Which one do you want?” she asked.

“Anything with chocolate.”

“You have excellent taste.”

“I strive too.” That made Marinette smile. It was such a Chole-like response. She had to make sure never to introduce the two of them.

Marinette pulled out a few doughnuts and put them in the microwave. They would taste much better warm. After a few seconds, she brought the plate over to Damian staring at the ancient coffee machine with distaste.

“Here, you take this.” She pushed the plate of warm doughnuts into his hands. “And I’ll deal with this.” Grabbing a filter to place the pre-crushed coffee grounds into.

“Tt, why don’t they use a Keurig?” he asked with a sneer.

“Uh… because it’s a breakroom in an IKEA?” Marinette was shocked to find a breakroom at all. She’d figured employees would have to lean against the wall if they wanted a break, before being prodded into moving again by their superior. At least, she thought that was what Americans did.

Damian scoffed. “Everyone uses Keurig.”

“Even you, Mr. Machine coffee tastes like swill?”

“No, Alfred makes our coffee in the morning French press style. I do occasionally steal Drake’s Keurig out of his room when he hasn’t slept in four days to watch him cry though.”

“Damian!” she exclaimed.

“What? It’s for his own good. At that point he’s more likely to make a mistake, he needs sleep, not more caffeine.”

Marinette's thoughts flickered to her own Keurig she bought before she left Paris and the number of times she had played out the exact scenario Damian described. “Coffee is a lifestyle.” She grabbed two paper cups and placed one underneath the machine as the coffee dripped.

“It’s a crutch. Drake is a grown man, and he should, mlph-” Marinette cut him off by shoving a chocolate doughnut into his mouth. He glared at her.

“Getting between a determined person and their coffee is a criminal offense and should be punished.” She grabbed a doughnut for herself taking a bite of the sugary pastry. It tasted nothing like her parents’, but her empty stomach didn't care, so it would do. “Who’s Alfred by the way? Another brother?”

Damian took half the doughnut out of his mouth, swallowing the rest. “Most people wouldn’t dare to take the liberties you do with me.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” Marinette responded with a smile. “You’re avoiding the question.” She took the cup out, now full to the brim of steaming hot coffee, and replaced it with the second.

“No, fortunately, I have no more brothers. Although my father likes to pick up strays so who knows if we’ll obtain another. Alfred is our butler.”

Thankfully, Marinette hadn’t taken a sip of coffee otherwise she might have done a spit-take. “You have a butler?” She had gotten the impression his family was pretty rich, and she was used to her friends having personal staff, but never failed to shock her when this level of luxury was mentioned so casually.

Damian shrugged. “Tt, butler, pseudo-grandfather, the only reason our family functions even semi-normally; same difference.”

Marinette shook her head in exasperation. “If you say so.” She pulled out the second cup, handing it to Damian. He took a sip.

“If mediocre had a taste…”

“Oh, shut up and drink it.”

They devoured their meager rations in silence, going back for seconds on both doughnuts and coffee. Marinette was by no means full when she finished, but at least her stomach wasn’t threatening to eat itself anymore.

“So, where do we go from here?” she asked.

Damian pulled out his phone. “The store closes at nine, which means we either have to avoid my brothers for eight more hours, or…”

“We have to knock them out of the game completely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, are we gonna actually knock them out, or should we just get them kicked out of the store?” She would normally try to avoid the use of excessive force on civilians, but from the few hints Damian had dropped, Marinette figured his family was used to a higher level of insanity. Living in Gotham must have that effect.

“Effective and vicious,” commented Damian, “I like the way you think. As much fun as it would be to knock them out, getting them kicked out is probably the better method. We have… family plans for this evening that potential concussions would make difficult.”

“Who’s our first target?”

“Drake,” said Damian without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s their eyes and ears. The other two are still good at hacking, but he’s the best. Get rid of him, and Grayson and Todd will be scrambling to recover. Plus, he’s the least likely to put up a fight.”

With a plan made, they erased their presence from the breakroom, hiding the lasered off vent grate and discarding their trash. Once confident the coast was clear they snuck out of the breakroom, and into the bowels of the back hallways, leaving nothing but doughnut crumbs and the smell of coffee in their wake.

It was time for the hunters to become the prey.

Tag List (closed, sorry) 

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[poptod]

hey there ☺ do you think you can write a soulmate au with ahk where you hear each other's thoughts? and ahk thought he didn't have one all these years only to hear you while he's at the museum and then you try to find each other?

notes: wonderful idea. also i noticed my method of doing requests is do it almost immediately after i get it or wait four months before i get it done so sorry about that, but i hope you enjoy this!

WC: 1.5k +

There are many versions of yourself, all talking over one another in an attempt to control your mind for once. Sometimes it's hard to decipher if your actions are the result of someone in your head tugging you in a different direction. There is the person you believe yourself to be––what you imagine you come off to people as. There is also the person you truly are, and what people actually perceive you to be. So despite there being several voices, they are all reiterations of yourself in some way.

Except for one.

One of them speaks in a voice that is not your own, in a voice you've never heard anywhere but echoing in your skull. Since you despised asking questions as a child, it took you until you were twelve to realize that no, you weren't insane. It was someone who would love you, who had the potential to grow close to you simply by the strings of fate. Your soulmate. 

Someone who gave you nightmares for years.

'Get me out of here!' He would scream, sending your heart pounding while you tried to sleep as a child. 'Please, please, I need to see the stars,' he sobbed, 'I did nothing to deserve this!'

Once you grew old enough to deal with the screaming beyond what you thought was a schizophrenia disorder, nighttime brought a deep sadness to you. For some reason, your soulmate would never think during the day––which was incredibly odd––and during the night, the only time he was awake, he would scream and beg and cry until you could feel the hoarseness in your own throat. For your entire childhood, you stared up at your ceiling at night, eyes burning as you tried to calm the screaming.

It was all you could think about, as though the screams had muted your connection to him and strengthened his connection to you. Every now and then you would try to think, try to calm him down, but he never quite heard.

Then, one evening in winter, it stopped.

You were lying in bed, rolled onto your side as you once again listened to the man's yelling thoughts. But then he stopped, and both your hearts skipped a beat, followed by an incredibly clear thought: Thank the Gods, blessed Ra and Khonsu.

That evening you darted out of bed, jumping to your desk where you typed in with slamming, lightning-fast fingers, "khonsu." Ra you already knew––everyone knew Ra, and by connection Khonsu would probably also be a God. The only question you were left with was why you were hearing the thoughts of someone who worshipped Egyptian gods two thousand years after that civilization died.

As you continued your research, his thoughts continued.

They took my tablet?

Who are these people?

This man has no idea what he's doing, does he?

Why is he screaming at the Hun?

He's got my tablet.

About halfway into the night you gave up on your research, instead listening intently to the thoughts. With you entirely absorbed in your soulmates thoughts, you had little room to send your own words to him, which unbeknownst to you, would've reached him if you tried.

You weren't quite sure what to think of him for the following couple weeks. At first your assumption was that he was the insane one projecting his insane thoughts to you, but his quieter thoughts led you to believe there was something different in him. It is true what they say––geniuses are often tortured minds, and though you wouldn't classify your soulmate as a genius, he was clearly a knowledgeable philosopher of sorts.

He thought often of the human condition––the rise and fall of civilizations, the cruelty and the mercy of men that began the stories of bloodstained battlefields. Most of the time you just listened. Now that he wasn't screaming, his voice was soft and more of a comfort than you ever thought it would be.

Sometimes he got very sad. After a while you learned to not question the logic of his thoughts. Instead, you simply tried to understand what he meant, accepting him for where he was in his life.

I miss my brother.

I wonder what happened to my best friend.

I didn't think I would ever be this far from the Nile and the sun.

I abandoned my people, didn't I?

If only I could find where my sister was buried. Would that even make me feel better, though? What closure will I gain from seeing her tomb?

... if she even had one.

There's a melody going on in his head, right now. Something that could put you to sleep if you weren't currently working. It's nothing you've heard before, that you're certain of, and judging by the tone of it and your soulmate's previous thoughts, it sounds Egyptian.

Despite the museum being closed, most of the lights are still on. One of the night guards had a very strange insistence about it, but wouldn't tell you why. Oh well––questioning people is above your paygrade, since you aren't getting paid for this. It is volunteer work. Not that you mind; ever since realizing the voice in your head was Egyptian, you've gotten a palate for history. Currently, however, you're dealing less with history and more with files. The curator at this museum asked you to sort through the records of all the different exhibits that are here, or were once here at some point, which made a very large collection. Massive, actually––you're only sorting through A, and it's going to take you a couple weeks.

He's humming softly to himself. The tune carries into your work, and you allow yourself to enjoy his voice as you sort, going over every record to look for exhibits no longer displayed. For this you have a chart in your other hand––a log of all the exhibits currently public in the museum.

Although you're supposed to be concentrated on your sorting, you find yourself more entranced with the melody in your head, and the clearest thought that rings in your mind is, 'that is beautiful.'

The humming stops. Dead in its' tracks, about to reach its' peak, and it stops.

'My mother sang it to me,' he says, 'before I slept as a child.'

"Holy shit, are you talking to me?" You say out loud with bulging eyes before you can stop yourself. The moment you realize what you said, a bright blush coats your cheeks and you slap your hand over your mouth. But he doesn't seem to mind––actually, he laughs, and it's sweeter than summer sugar.

'You must be my heart,' he says in an astounded tone, and you can practically see his dream-filled eyes. You sit puzzled for a second before replying.

"Do you mean your soulmate?"

'Well... I suppose yes, that could be one of the names,' he says, and it only adds more onto the lists of questions you have for him.

"What is your name?" You ask first, hardly realizing you're still talking aloud to yourself.

'My name is Ahkmenrah," he tells you, and it takes less than a millisecond before the dots connect in your head. Instantly your eyes dart to the sheet in your hand, and near the top of the list, there it sits––Ahkmenrah.

'I know this must be confusing for you,' he continues, 'but I am from another time. While I lived then, I dreaded that I didn't have a heart, as I heard no voice. That fear has carried on into my next life, but now that you're here –'

"Oh I'm here alright," you say, unbelieving of both your circumstances and your unblinking acceptance at them. "I'm, like, two floors below you."

"WHAT?!"

A voice from above catches you, but as the same word rings in your mind, you realize with great glee that he instinctively yelled 'what' without thinking. You laugh, and the thought of your laughter reaches him.

Less than a minute later you can hear footsteps pounding down the stairs, landing at the closed door before the handle wrenches open. You quickly move to your feet, facing the man whose voice you know so well, who haunted your childhood and enchanted your adulthood. You can barely hide the grin that spreads across your face––whatever magic has brought you to this moment, you thank everything you can for it, your attention ensnared by the soft features of a 4,000 year old Pharaoh.

He pauses once he enters the archive, eyes finding yours immediately. His mouth hangs open slightly as he scans you, absorbs every feature on your body and face, and barely moves even to breathe for a good minute or two.

"I – I'm sorry, I j – I just realized I didn't ask your name," he says quietly, a small, ginger smile growing on his lips.

"(Y/N)," you say, but you don't quite know how your brain worked to make the word. You certainly didn't consciously choose to speak.

"I have waited thousands of years for you," he says, impossibly softer as he steps forward. He's really quite harmless, you realize––for all the fear you had of him as a child, he's nothing but a sweet-faced boy.

"Was it worth it?" You ask, and your voice cracks ever so slightly.

"My heart," he breathes out, affection lacing his name for you, "it was worth every second."

[malkumtend]

Regrets - An AU where Squirrelflight and Crowfeather ran away from the clans.

Art by @lonely-ghost-606

…

“Do you have any regrets about what we did?”

“What do you mean?” Crowfeather yawned, raising his head and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He looked to his side. He thought she was curled beside him, ready to sleep off the rabbit they had caught earlier. Instead, she lay on her back, staring up at the night sky.

“It’s a simple question, isn’t it?” Squirrelflight said, her tone too dry to sound annoyed.

“I… I guess.” Crowfeather shifted so his head was above hers. “I’m just wondering why you’d ask that.”

Squirrelflight shrugged, her emerald eyes looked dulled by the dark hills. “I’m just wondering.”

Crowfeather felt a sharp gust of wind scratch his coat with cold claws. He grunted. “I see.”

“So do you?”

Crowfeather’s brow furrowed. Did he regret what they did? There were many things that they did. He scanned the hills around them, focusing on an invisible distance they’d long since abandoned. To the left of them, a few tree-lengths from the steep hill they’d decided to camp at, a thick ground of unsearched woods lay open for the pair to explore. Even though they weren’t close, Crowfeather could catch the unknown smells that beckoned them further away from their original lives.

Crowfeather thought they would go into it tomorrow.

“Not especially.” Crowfeather said. He watched Squirrelflight blink, the same blank expression on her muzzle. The tom’s tail curled closer to his partner. “It wouldn’t do me any good to regret now. It’s too late for that.”

Squirrelflight’s muzzle scrunched in a way Crowfeather couldn’t read. Her ears twitched gently. “Yeah.” She sighed. “I know.”

Her voice drifted into the night like a dying hope.

Crowfeather bit his lip, the pain offered a good counter to the uncomfortable quivering along his tail. He looked away, debating if he wanted to ask the question or hear her answer. “So… Do you have any regrets?”

Squirrelflight cast him a glance, her head edging back. Their eyes locked for a minute. Crowfeather waited, uneasy but patient. Squirrelflight’s mouth opened a few times but closed within a blink. The cold air around them and the whistle of the night was the only consistency of their silence.

The silence was frustrating. So incredibly frustrating. Crowfeather fought to hold his tongue.

If there was one thing he knew, he couldn’t rush her.

She needed her own time.

So, he suffered through the quiet, if that was what she needed to speak.

Even if he was scared of what she might say.

Squirrelflight exhaling through her nose made Crowfeather jolt back to attention. “No.”

Crowfeather settled a little, but he kept his gaze fixed. “But?” He sensed.

“There isn’t really a but…”

“So why did you ask then?”

“Guess I just wanted to know.”

“What?” Crowfeather’s muzzle creased, “It’s a bit of a random question, don’t you think?”

Squirrelflight’s eyes narrowed, “Well ‘sorry’, I just thought I’d ask.”

A low hum rumbled in Crowfeather’s throat, his ears flattened back. “No normal cat ‘just asks’ something like that?”

“Was that supposed to be a jab?” Squirrelflight closed her eyes with a huff, “I don’t think you’re in any position to call any cat abnormal.”

“And you are?”

“You’re missing the point, mouse-brian.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Squirrelflight rolled onto her side, effectively ending the conversation is she so wished.

Despite the heat storming his ears, Crowfeather knew in his gut that fighting wouldn’t help them. If he wanted a reason from his mate, he wouldn’t get it by making her mad.

Even if she was the one who started it…

Crowfeather grumbled, then he sighed.

By the stars, they were a couple of overgrown apprentices. He looked down at her, his mouth thin, almost feeling he could laugh at the stubbornness glaring off her.

She really was difficult when she wanted to be.

But then again, so was he.

They matched each other, and maybe that was why they were stuck with each other.

Crowfeather offered a light touch of his tail to her back. He heard a low mumuring he couldn’t decipher, but he assumed it was something to do with his tail and a mouse trap. He chuckled lightly, keeping his touch on her. Slowly, Squirrelflight’s back stopped shivering and he saw her body descend with a low breath.

Then her tail moved, the tip laying over his.

All was buried and forgiven.

Crowfeather sniffed, the sound reverberated over the hills. “Did I do anything to make you think I regretted leaving the clans?”

Squirrelflight started up, her tail flaring, before going still. Slowly she rolled onto her belly, facing the tom. It was hard to read the sinking expression, but Crowfeather assumed that she was fighting between giving the easy answer or the truth.

“No, I just thought… I dunno, you might have thought about it.”

“Well, I haven’t.” Crowfeather leant down a little, trying to match her height. “So, have you?”

Squirrelflight looked down. Crowfeather noticed her fur lying flat on her back. “Well…”

Crowfeather inhaled tightly. “You have, haven’t you?”

Squirrelflight didn’t respond straight away. “N- Well, I…” He could tell she hated the idea of lying to him. “Not for long.” When she looked up and saw Crowfeather’s stilted gaze she let out another sigh. “But yeah.”

A short, relative silence filled the air, as Crowfeather alternated between casting this off as a bad dream or waking up and wishing that it was. Either way, he said nothing. The idea that she could regret going with him, that she could regret him, filled him not with anger but a crushing guilt.

“Do you want to go back?” He said quietly.

Her eyes flashing, Squirrelflight rose up with a mrrow of shock. “Of course not!” She meowed.

Crowfeather looked at her with a shadowy scepticism. He was afraid to feel relieved.

“I didn’t mean I regret running away in the first place.” Squirrelflight said, giving her mate a hard stare.

“So what did you mean?” Crowfeather asked, his voice low as he sat on his hind legs.

Squirrelflight turned away with a groan. Her tail was thumping against the ground in clear irritation.

The fact she didn’t look at him made him second guess that he was the focus of it.

“It’s just…” Her breathing began to slow down and her movements became sluggish and tired once more. As another cold gust passed them, Squirrelflight was reserved once more to a still shadow. Her gaze kept low. “You don’t regret anything about leaving?”

Crowfeather paused. “Nothing I can think of.”

“So the idea of leaving was never… scary to you?”

The dark tom’s brows rose.

“The fact that you’re never going to see your family again.” Squirrelflight said softly. “That never bothered you?”

Crowfeather stared. Squirrelflight’s whiskers twitched as a look of pain grazed her. He didn’t need to think twice about who she was thinking of. But, as soon as she mentioned it, he did find the face of a sleek grey cat fill his vision.

A cat he had never said goodbye to.

Like she could have understood that.

“You’re not scared that you don’t have a clan anymore?” Squirrelflight stiffened.

Scared. The word confused Crowfeather for a bit, but he thought he knew what she meant. The safety, the security, the pattern. Knowing you would be protected, knowing what to do every day without worry, knowing that you had a clear pattern to follow. Comfort and reliance.

“That’s what’s bothering you.” It wasn’t a question. “You miss your family and your clan.”

Squirrelflight looked up as if she was shocked at how reserved his tone was. “Don’t you?” She asked.

Crowfeather thought back. It wasn’t an unfair question. Any normal cat would miss those they grew up with every day of their lives.

But like Squirrelflight had said, he didn’t have the right to judge what was normal.

“I miss my mother sometimes.” Crowfeather admitted. “But that’s about it. I didn’t have anyone else I was close to in Windclan.”

Squirrelflight mrrowed in astonishment. “Seriously?”

Crowfeather gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re talking to me, remember? If you thought I was bad on the journey, you wouldn’t want to see me in my clan.” To his delight, Squirrelflight betrayed herself with a small chuckle. “I suppose I was close to…  my mentor. But… that’s buried bones.” The less he said about Mudclaw, the better.

Squirrelflight knit her brows together, staring at the ground with a slackened jaw. Her shoulders had sunk under an invisible weight.

Crowfeather pursed his lips and took a hesitant step towards her. When she didn’t flinch away, he stopped just when he was close enough to graze his paw with hers. “I take it you have fonder memories of your clan?” Like that was hard.

Against her better instincts, Squirrelflight stared ahead to the hills. As if they could see the shape of the forest they once knew. “Sometimes.” She echoed him. Her ears fell down like dying leaves. “I miss my sister terribly. We were always close.”

Crowfeather nodded, a sympathetic hum on his lips. “You must have been. If not I don’t think she would have let you leave like that.”

When Squirrelflight had shown up at the border with Leafpool, Crowfeather had almost burst from the terror. But it only took a moment and a good look at the medicine cat’s wet eyes for him to realise she was keeping their secret. Even as the weeping sisters embraced one final time, Leafpool had not even looked like she was going to reveal their secret.

And from how far they’d gotten since then, it seemed that she never had.

“I think about my parents as well. About whether they’re worried about me or not.”

“Of course they are.” That didn’t seem like a comfort or a jab.

“Well if they are,” Squirrelflight took a sharp intake of breath, “I can’t help but feel bad. I want Thunderclan to carry on without me, not waste time looking for me. If there’s a patrol looking for us right now,” She grimaced, “I hope they give up soon. They have their own problems to deal with and I shouldn’t be one of them.” Her face went dull again, as if being stung by a wasp too many times to feel the pain.

Crowfeather blinked slowly. “They will be looking for you.”  He dipped down so his cheek rested against hers. He was relieved when she nestled a little closer to him. “And that’s because you mean something to them.”

He’d been torn between comforting her with what he knew was true, reminding her of the love of home, and the beckon of silence that could keep her close to him.

But it hadn’t lasted long.

“My clan won’t care a whisker where I am, I can promise you that. But yours will search day and night for you, they’d only do that for a cat like you.”

Squirrelflight scoffed, “What? A leader’s daughter.”

“No. An amazing, beautiful Warrior.” He purred. He watched Squirrelflight’s eyes go wide and felt her face fill with heat. Her breathing began to become thin. Crowfeather lowered his eyes again. Her happiness pricked his determination once more.

“And if you miss them that much, we can go back.”

Squirrelflight paused.

Crowfeather coughed away the tightening in his throat. “I mean, if you think you’d be happier there… it’s worth it.”

“Don’t be silly.”

A brushing feeling curled under Crowfeather’s chin. Now it was his turn to go stiff. He laboured above Squirrelflight as she purred under his chin, her small body feeling perfect against the curve of his own. Her thick fur rustled against him, making his face drain of colour.

“I wouldn’t have left if I thought I’d be happier there.”

Crowfeather’s gaze skittered down until he found her. She was warm under him, smiling with a crescent moon grin. “But you said...”

“That I have regrets, but not that I regret everything.” Her muzzle had nuzzled into his chest and when he peered down he could barely see the hard determined glint of emerald. “I do miss my family. But when I don’t think of them, I think of everything else in Thunderclan.”

The fire that burned her scowl communicated the images of her thoughts.

The bitter feud of two toms, demanding their place beside her, too engrossed in their hate to notice the disgust on her face.

The way her clanmates offered nothing but tired grimaces and pleads for the peace of quiet whenever she made her voice heard.

The way her parents warned her to stay close to the clan whenever a cat complained of her ‘too-close’ relationships with the cats she travelled with for moons.

The way that it only took the mere sound of her voice to illicit a groan somewhere she couldn’t see, but she knew was close.

She could remember it all with a painful clarity.

Crowfeather licked her forehead gently.

“Trust me, I’m not so desperate that I’d want to go back to that.”

“Okay.” Crowfeather said, even though he wasn’t sure how he could even mutter that one word as his throat felt like it had been stuffed with dirt. He listened to her purr underneath him until his paws felt strong again and the cold air somehow felt refreshing.

Then he blinked, brows furrowing again. “Wait. If you don’t want to go back, then why did you ask me if I regretted leaving?”

Squirrelflight went still, and while that did make Crowfeather chill a little he did think an answer was deserved.

“Well, just because I’m happy here didn’t mean you were.” Squirrelflight broke away a little, licking her shoulder quietly. “You never told me much about your life in Windclan.”

“You wouldn’t want to know.” Crowfeather rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I. I don’t have the fondest memories of Windclan, Squirrelflight.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t is obvious? If you wanted to go home then…” She trailed off, looking at her paws again.

Crowfeather had been stunned into silence. He tried to make something articulate, but his mouth hung half-way, as if it was trying to mimic actual speech.

Did she honestly think he wasn’t…

“Crowfeather.” Squirrelflight addressed, as stern as ever. It drew Crowfeather to look down until he was eye to eye with the hard-faced ginger cat. “There aren’t great memories for me in Thunderclan, but if there were for you.” There was only the briefest flash of fear of the molly’s face. “I’d want you to be-”

Her voice came out into a squeak as she felt herself dragged off her hind paws. Her head hit something soft and firm as her backside slid along the calm drifting grass. Squirrelflight couldn’t catch her breath as she felt something on her chest, gently holding her in place like a kit in its mother’s mouth. In the dark, it was hard to make it out as Crowfeather’s foreleg.

She realised, face burning all the while, that the soft mound her neck rested on was actually Crowfeather’s smooth chest. His steady heartbeat patted her skin, as if mocking her rapid pulse.

She was about to pull herself away when she felt a soft touch to her cheek. Along with a soft smacking sound.

Squirrelflight’s protests died before they could begin.

That hadn’t been a nose peck or a lick.

What it had been… Well it made Squirrelflight realise she couldn’t say a word even if she tried.

The alarm, the surprise of moments like this with Crowfeather, moments she could hardly imagine he was capable of, it just made her melt where she was.

Which only meant she eased deeper into his embrace.

“Now look who’s being silly.” Crowfeather uttered. Each word was warm on Squirrelflight’s already burning cheeks.

“Hu-Hu-Huh?” The slightest sound was all Squirrelflight found she had the strength to gasp, and even then she stuttered as if every part of her didn’t feel like hot sand. The rumbling in her chest was bizarrely comforting.

“Why would I ever go back to Windclan?”

Squirrelflight couldn’t whisper the obviousness of her soaring doubts.

But that was okay.

Because Crowfeather wrapped his foreleg just a bit tighter around her, and actually pulled her gently against him. And when he spoke it tingled everywhere. “I’ve been at home ever since I met you.”

With that, he gave her cheek another deserved kiss.

As the feeling burst over her once more, Squirrelflight found herself shaking far less than she could have ever imagined. Her paws cradled over the foreleg on her chest, holding onto it with all the care she could muster. Her heart rate began to soften until she heard it perfectly align with his. Only just a little less noticeable than the shimmer of their purrs.

As her neck peacefully sank back, her cheek being cradled by the warmth of his neck, Squirrelflight felt the invisible shape of the forest sink away until she couldn’t see it in the shadows anymore.

And she found she was okay with that.

She closed her eyes, not caring enough to give some witty comeback that may have suited her.

It didn’t suit this.

But Crowfeather spoke nonetheless. “Y’know, I’m kind of surprised, Squirrel.”

“About what?” Squirrelflight said, not opening her eyes.

“When you talked about regrets, my first thought was that you were scared about Starclan.”

“Oh.” Squirrelflight edged back a little more. “No, I’m not worried about that.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“I… How come?”

Squirrelflight opened her eyes as she craned her head just enough to peck Crowfeather’s chin with her nose. She giggled as she felt his heart begin to thump. “Just look at the stars.”

Crowfeather did and, despite the cold air, or the grey clouds that passed like fading wounds, he could have sworn the stars had never looked so beautiful as he pulled the ginger cat close once again.

...

Side note - this is not an indication of what will happen in ILYL. It is a separate AU.

And to hell with it, if I say these humanised cats can kiss they can kiss. So there!

Anyway this is the last Drabble until the next chapter of ILYL is finished. Hope you liked them so far.