#asset. since she can do everything for you and leave without a trace and no one can link it back to you nor accuse you of being the one

[swordmaid]

in my hc the noble houses of menzoberranzan operate similarly to the houses in ice and fire where they’re constantly feuding with each other but instead of trying to take the throne/control of the whole realm they’re all fighting for lolth’s favour instead. and because they can’t outright declare war on each other (forgot the reason for why they can’t exactly do that but iirc lolth doesn’t like it?? she loves the drama I guess) and if they rise too quickly lolth casts them down so they have to be cunning about it. not to mention if they stay too long in power and do nothing about it that also displeases the spider queen so the nobility’s game of intrigue is constantly moving and working both for self gain and for self preservation.

shri’iia also plays the game but more of a pawn than a player. she’s not born from any noble house (she’s actually a commoner). the only reason why she has any foot in the game is that she’s taken in by the matriarch of faen tlabbar - one of the houses who fervently worships lolth to the point of zealotry - when they’ve heard word that she—a commoner—have managed to succeed lolth’s trials and gained her blessing. lolth blessings are rare to come and making someone a paladin is even more rare so for a zealot house, that’s a a sign they can’t pass up. so, the house matriarch takes her in and keeps in a tower where she’s supposed to pray and train to lolth day and night. the paladin oath that shri’iia swears is both for lolth and her matriarch; she swears to punish the enemies of her mistresses and forever keep her loyalty to them. her matriarch’s word is an extension to lolth’s will, so to disobey her will be disobeying lolth herself.

and ofc shri’iia being born poor with everything to give and nothing to lose, who thought that there is more to her life than a merchant’s daughter, to be known by the goddess she worship and noticed by one of the most influential houses in the city, swears herself to that oath. she never regretted that choice not even when she’s kept in that tower in complete isolation with her matriarch being the only person she could interact with.

[buckyownsmylife]

Something Just Like This - August Walker smut

The one where August figures out what happened to you.

Warnings: smut, some angst, pregnancy, breastfeeding kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex

A/N: this idea was requested and of course, I had to add in the smut.

August’s P.O.V.

I’d never been a patient man.

That made waiting at her house, with no idea of when she’d arrive, particularly frustrating. Especially considering the reason why I had found myself here in the first place.

I still couldn’t even think about it. Since I found out why it was that she suddenly disappeared from the face of the Earth, all I’d done was go, go, go. Search everywhere for even the smallest trace of her. Try to get inside her mind so I could maybe figure out where she’d go to hide.

Of course, I never once considered she wasn’t hiding at all.

“Shh…” I heard her soothe someone, not finding it difficult to figure out who it was. “There you go. Good boy.”

That was when the first wave of panic hit me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had to deal with that emotion. I was usually so in control of everything. I designed my life to make it that way. No surprises.

Until now.

“I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable.” She didn’t even glance my way, seated at the farthest corner of her living room, but I expected as much. She was an incredible agent before she decided to… retire. It was ingrained in our minds to check for the little signs, if we were being followed, if there was someone inside our house.

It’d be pretty irresponsible of her to disregard everything she’d learned. Especially now.

She didn’t pay me any attention as she took off her coat and hung it by the door, taking all the time in the world to do so before, at last, turning to the sleeping infant in the carrier she had deposited on the sofa before me.

At least he wasn’t a fussy child.

“So, how are you?” She sighed, letting herself fall on the couch, finally looking at me. “It took you longer than I imagined. Then again, I wasn’t sure you’d come at all.”

And that’s when the beast inside of me woke up, my nostrils flaring as I inhaled deeply, leaning closer to her so I could speak in a whisper but still have her hear me and take note of every hint of anger in my tone.

“How am I?” I repeated, unbelieving of her chosen words for the encounter. “How am I? You’re MIA for six months, I find out it’s because you got pregnant and you have the nerve to ask me how I am?”

She didn’t look the slightest bit affected, sighing as she turned to look at the boy in the carrier. “Let me go put him in bed so you don’t have to whisper anymore.”

In the time it took her to do that, I grew impatient. ‘How am I’. The hell kinda question is that.

When she came back, she looked different. Well, she was different from the last time I saw her anyway - her frame looked fuller, hips wider. It made me lick my lips in desire, but I had other issues to focus on at the moment.

Like the fact that she looked angry. “How can you ask me how I am when you’re the one who disappeared to have my child?” I almost yelled, still trying to be respectful of the sleeping infant in the other room. “I thought you were kidnapped! Murdered in the line of duty!”

She blinked a few times, seemingly surprised about the direction the discussion was taken, but what the hell was she expecting?

“What do you want me to say?” Was her response. “Can you put yourself in my shoes for a moment? We fucked occasionally and I ended up pregnant. I didn’t even know where you were stationed, and I didn’t know how to explain to our superior officer why I needed to know classified information about one of their best assets.”

I forced myself to take one deep breath, understanding that if she had done so, she could easily be targeted as a spy. When she looked down at her feet, hands on her hips, I knew she was disappointed.

“Have you ever even wanted a family?” She asked me. “I don’t know! I know next to nothing about you, August. All I know was that we fucked and the contraceptive didn’t work and now I have a piece of you with me forever. A piece you didn’t even want to give me.”

I wasn’t egocentric enough to completely miss her point. But still, now that I’d made a fool of myself, the only thing I could think to say was, “You’re not even going to apologize?”

Her head snapped up, fire in her eyes and I knew she was about to tell me off when I grabbed her by the chin and pulled her to meet my lips.

“I think you have a lot to make up for, kitten…” I insisted, pressing kisses all along her shoulder just to hear her mewl for me. “You just assumed I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with my own son, and kept this away from me…”

“I missed your entire pregnancy. God, can’t imagine how these looked…” I whispered, holding her breasts as I pulled away to stare at them. “Did he leave some for me?” I teased, slipping the front of her blouse down so I could rub her nipples, enjoying how her head fell back in bliss. I imagined they were much more sensitive now. “Will you let me try?”

I waited for her nod to lean down and wrap my lips around her nub, sucking lightly, mindful of how she felt now that she was breastfeeding, and I was rewarded by a pleasured gasp, her fingers flying up to my hair to pull at the strands, but keep me attached to her.

“Remember how I made you cream around me?” I teased, running my tongue around her nipple, relishing in the sweet liquid that slowly dripped from her. “Yeah, you loved it, didn’t you?” Her whine had me smirking as I easily manhandled her into resting against the wall, abandoning her breasts momentarily to nuzzle her neck.

“I loved it too,” I admitted, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as I hoisted her leg up to wrap around my waist before working on getting my cock out of my trousers. “God, you have no idea how much I missed this pussy…”

Slipping inside of her was always delicious. The way she instinctively clenched around me, arms tightening around my body to keep me nearby. My name slipped from her lips, and it had my lips twisting up.

“Hmm…” I mused, pulling away to take in her state of ruin. “I think I want you to call me daddy now…” She snickered, but I wasn’t completely joking about it.

A punishing thrust against her sweet spot had the title slipping from her lips without her even noticing it. Smirking, I started to really fuck into her, imagining how sexy she must have looked like, all round with my child.

“You should have told me.” I shook my head before letting it drop against her shoulder, knowing she didn’t know what I was referring to and probably couldn’t even tell while I was fucking her. So I decided to focus on this moment instead, appreciating how it felt to actually have her after thinking I’d never get to see her again.

“Shit, you feel so good,” I cursed right as a loud moan escaped her, and I had to slap my hand over her mouth, trying to quieten her down. “You better be quiet, baby. You don’t want to wake up the other baby, huh?”

She melted in my arms, allowing me to push her further up the wall as I sped up my thrusts, searching for that blissful release I could only truly reach with her.

Her eyes rolled back as my cum spilled deep inside of her, not worried about contraceptives anymore because they’d failed us once, what’s another time?

Besides, I was kind of hoping to be able to experience what I missed this time.

“You’re staying?” She asked when she saw me adjusting my clothing after I made sure to clean her up, and I figured my raised eyebrow was enough of an answer, but I gave her one anyway.

“Someone’s gotta take care of you and the little guy, huh?” I grinned, pulling her into my arms. “Can’t believe you thought you’d ever be able to get rid of me.”

[lovetorn]

in chains for you [dream]

Dream x Fem!Reader Criminals!AU

Summary: The Dream Team is an underground crime group that works for Techno Industries. But what happens when one of their most valuable members is taken for ransom by their enemy, Schlatt?

Warnings: Swearing & mean insults :(, kidnapping, death, violence, uhhh nothing else? message me if you see anything else!

Word Count: 8.1k+

A/N: I’m so sorry for any mistakes/plot holes, my adhd said no❤️ when i was editing :(

Note: Please remember these are all characters! Since I do not know any of these people in real life, I have created all aspects of their lives, personalities etc. and apologise for any OOC moments. I portrayed Schlatt as the villain purely from his role play in the Dream SMP, obviously, I do not believe him to be like this irl in any way. He is also written as much older than the Dream Team to enhance the villain-like characteristics. Remember, this is just fiction! Thanks! 

Night had fallen over California, and the icy breeze from the South blew through the city of Beverly Hills. The lights from several luxury hotels and displays lit up the streets and exposed the city. It was more alive than half the people that resided there. Here, people only cared about their money and their assets; barely any room left for emotions towards others that didn’t benefit them. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Sapnap!” 

The gravelly sound of Dream shouting prompted Y/n to run faster. Tensions were high as three criminals rushed to the dark SUV that sat running outside of the tall building. They clutched black duffle bags in both hands when the sound of familiar sirens cried a few blocks away. 

Unlocking the car, George threw open the back car door and launched his duffle bags onto the car seats before hopping in. Dream rounded the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat, Y/n doing the same for the passenger’s side. And whilst they were shoving the bags in, Sapnap came running out of the building, another duffle bag in his hand and a briefcase in the other. The ends of his white bandana flew around in the wind behind him as he missed a dip in the floor.

“What the fuck has he got now? We’ve gotta go!” George exclaimed, hurrying the boy by waving his hand. Dream put the car in drive as Sapnap slammed the door, “Go, go, go!”

The car squealed while Dream pulled off of the curb, the wheels screeching against the tar as he pressed his foot heavily on the accelerator. 40, 50, 70, 100, 130mph. The speedometer jumped by 10s and then by 40s as the car barrelled down the long strip of road, the wailings of sirens fading behind them. 

George, Y/n and Sapnap were laughing as they took their masks off. The sound pissed Dream off as he gripped the steering wheel harder; why is nobody taking this seriously? 

Ripping his white mask off his face and throwing it into his lap, Dream looked at Sapnap through the rearview mirror, “Why did you take so long? That could’ve fucked our whole plan!” 

“Jeez, chill out.”

Dream shot him a glare through the mirror as Sapnap put his hand up, “Schlatt said he had a briefcase full of Chick-Fil-A gift cards, so I grabbed the first one I saw.” 

George lolled his head to the side, mouth agape as he stared at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?” 

Sapnap shook his head, resting the case on his thighs and popping open the clasps. 

“Fuck yeah!” He cheered, turning the case around to show the rest of the car the bundles of hundreds of red and white cards that laid on a sheet of red velvet. Sapnap’s eyes remained as wide as saucers the entire time he tilted the case at different angles to ensure everybody saw. 

Y/n turned around in her seat to face the boys in the back and giggled. 

“Can I have one?” She asked, holding her hands up in a praying gesture. Sapnap laughed and nodded, “I’ve got enough for a whole country! And anything for you, Y/n.” Y/n smiled at him, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back around to face the road that was gone as quick as it came. 

The deep sigh that came from Dream in the driver’s seat caught the attention of everybody in the car. Sapnap rolled his eyes and shut the case. “Calm down, green boy. She’s all yours.” 

Arriving at the motel George had found, the four lugged the black duffle bags in the small room. Locking the room door, Dream spun around to see everybody sitting on one of the single beds. 

He eyed the black duffle bags in the corner with a frown, each one full to the brim with thousands of 100 dollar bills that they had to transfer back to base. George cleared his throat when he saw his friend looking at the bags and raised his eyebrows, “Dream?” The man turned at the sound of his name and nodded once. He had an odd feeling in his stomach but decided to ignore it and face the problem at hand first before anything else.

Dream sighed, “We did good tonight,” The three on the bed hollering softly, fist-bumping each other before Dream continued. 

“But...” Y/n, George and Sapnap all groaned, throwing their heads back at the oncoming disappointment that Dream was going to throw on them.

“Sapnap, what the fuck was that? You can’t go off on your own tangents during a plan this big! What would’ve happened if—”

Sapnap’s eyes widened when he realised Dream’s rage was aimed towards him. “Dream! It’s okay, bro. I’m right here, we’re all alive—”

“Don’t talk back to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided Dream’s gaze when it landed on her. She didn’t want him asking her to back him up; not tonight. 

“Anyway, I hope you all know what comes next.” The three nodded, heads down and eyes trained on the worn carpet. Sapnap and George stood up and went to different sides of the room, George to the bathroom and Sapnap to the desk where he pulled out his iPod and earphones. 

Dream watched as Y/n lifted her head back up, meeting his gaze. She gave him a soft smile and patted the space on the bed next to her. Dream ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and walked over to her, sitting where her hand once was. 

“You okay?” She asked softly, placing her hand over his that sat in his lap. Dream nodded before huffing. “I just don’t know how successful this plan actually is. Something’s off.” He whispered, grabbing her hand. Y/n leaned forward to try and meet his green eyes; the ones that made her weak at the knees when he looked at her a certain way. But he didn’t need to know that considering they were just friends.  

“We did good today, look! We’re here, alive and well. And if something’s bothering you, just know that I’ll always be here to help you. Now, I need the bathroom.” She smiled, squeezing his hand before standing up. 

“George? When are you done?” She yelled at the bathroom door. Dream tilted his head to the side as he admired her, what would he do without her?

“Soon! Stop being annoying!” 

It had reached a point in the night where Dream couldn’t sleep. The single bed he laid in was uncomfortable, and the nagging feeling of doubt kept him awake. Something was wrong. 

He looked over a Y/n who laid in the other bed across from him. His top priority was to keep her safe; he had to. His eyes then travelled to his two other best friends—Sapnap in the desk chair and George on the brown couch. 

He smiled softly. Dream rarely got emotional, but seeing his friends and partners in crime—literally—so vulnerable, had his mind plagued with vicious scenarios that brought tears to his alarmingly vacant eyes. 

They weren’t always void, but seeing death as he did, had pushed the soul of nature out of his once striking eyes. He thought they looked dull now, matching the rest of his face, but Y/n always told him they were the prettiest she’d ever seen. He’d always flush when she said that which always elicited a poke in the ribs and a teasing comment from her. 

Dream forgot how long he’d been lying there, his mind drifting in and out of sleeping until a high-pitched squeak came from the main door. He reached for his knife that held a place under the pillow and sat up, holding his knife and facing the door. 

On the floor next to the door, sat an ominous black envelope. Dream chewed the inside of his lip, his heart beating rapidly with panic. How did they find them?

— 

“How the fuck did they find us?” George asked, his palms sweaty as he held the letter in his hands. The gold foiling around the letters was both alluring and terrifying. 

Palm Casino.  Wednesday Night. 12am.  Be there, or face death. 

Dream had rolled his eyes when he read the letter for the first time; Schlatt was so dramatic. And although fear and doubt had set in his stomach, he didn’t let his friends know. 

How did they find them? They had been careful with the robbery, getting everything they needed without leaving a trace, nothing out of place, except for—

Dream shoved his partners out of the way and leaned down to pick up the briefcase with the Chic-Fil-A gift cards. Sapnap went to interject, primarily to save his prized possession when Y/n grabbed his elbow and shook her head when he turned to her. 

Dream opened it then turned it upside down, emptying the cards onto the rotting carpet. 

“Dream—” 

“Shut up.” He then continued to rip the velvet from the inside of the case to reveal a small box with a red flashing light. Sapnap stopped his wriggling and stood staring at the device. 

“This is your fault, you dipshit.” 

Sapnap was silent. Y/n softened her grip to rub his elbow comfortingly instead, the action making Dream narrow his gaze. The girl rolled her eyes and spoke up, “How was he supposed to know it was in there, Dream? You can’t blame him for this at all.” 

Dream shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor before huffing and scrunching his nose in a disgusted manner.

Midnight had arrived quickly, like a thief in the dark, and the crescent moon hung high in the sky. A light breeze swept into the city, making the palm trees sway in the delicate moonlight as a black SUV pulled up to the Palm Casino. 

“Okay, here we go. I want you all on your best behaviour,” Dream joked. And as his mask only hid half of his face, a lopsided grin graced his face as he popped the door open. Y/n knew that smile; it was one that was begging for chaos, but she knew it was just a deflection from his real emotions. 

Walking to the entrance, Y/n reached up and placed her hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dream let out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

The boys sported black on black suits with matching Rolex watches, the gold of the timepieces shining in the low light. The only differences between them being Dream’s smiley mask, Sapnap’s white bandana in his hair, and George’s white glasses upon the top of his head. Y/n, on the other hand, wore a fitting dress with gold jewellery. She would’ve worn anything else, but considering the situation, she complied. 

As the waitress walked them over to the poker table, Y/n caught Dream’s hand in her own, squeezing it once before letting go. She knew he was worried and the action in itself was enough to calm Dream’s nerves for the time being, but as soon as he made eye contact with Schlatt, it all went away. 

“Boys! How are we doing?” The man yelled, throwing his arms up with a smile on his face. Dream nodded once and sat down at the table, Sapnap and George following. Y/n went to sit beside Sapnap but was cut off by Schlatt who took it upon himself to police the members at said table. 

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’m afraid this game is only for the men.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and clasped his hands on the table. Y/n narrowed her gaze at him before rolling her eyes and moving to stand behind Dream. 

Schlatt then stood and excused himself from the table, making George throw Dream a confused look before the man spoke up. He walked towards another room, guarded by velvet ropes, but not before shouting, “Let the games begin!” 

—  

Dream sat observing the last man in the game next to himself, ensuring he wouldn’t lose, not that he ever did. He had learnt from his father early on to read the expressions of the players around him and how to benefit from the folds and raises. People were shocked when they found out his age, bewildered that such a young man could earn numbers like that. 

Dream stared narrowly at the man; his eyebrows raised as he wore a sly smirk. The man in front of him was profusely sweating, his hand reaching to grasp a tissue from his pocket as the last community card was placed down. The surrounding men groaned; their expressions irritable as the Dream Team gained another win. Dream threw the cards onto the Poker table and stood up, offering his hand to the gentleman. He reluctantly accepted then hurried out of the room, four of his acquaintances following.  

Y/n watched as Dream swapped seats with Sapnap, allowing him his turn at the game. She then moved and leaned down to Dream’s ear, “This is bullshit, where’s Schlatt gone?”

Dream shook his head and shrugged quickly, “Fuck knows.”

“Let’s go, Sapnap,” A man they recognised as Fletcher spoke, sitting down in front of the young man as his buddies filed around the table to take their seats. Sapnap didn’t talk, he only glanced back at Dream who tilted his head, holding his forefinger up to indicate this would be their last round.  

Once Sapnap had collected his two starting cards, the game began. Dream watched as each of the men were eliminated through folds and how they apologised to Fletcher for letting him down. The man brushed them off, telling them to “watch how it’s done”. Dream, Sapnap and George stifled a laugh as they watched the second last man fold. Behind them, Y/n grew impatient and began mumbling to herself about how ridiculous it was.

“Excuse me? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a round? Get the fuck outta here.” Fletcher said, his voice harsh as Y/n’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. Dream went to interject before the man spoke again. 

“A scotch on the rocks.” He then said. 

“I’m not a waitress.” Y/n’s voice was monotone while the man waved her away. Y/n scoffed before she moved towards him. Dream’s hand flew out to catch her wrist, and Y/n rolled her eyes. As angry as Dream was, he wasn’t going to start something with Schlatt’s men before the meeting actually started. Sapnap didn’t pay any attention to the conversations around him, focusing only on winning.

Fletcher chuckled, holding his cards close to his chest, “you dumb kid”. Sapnap’s facial expression went from serious to amused, watching as the dealer placed down the final community card. Sapnap’s eyes flickered to Fletcher’s grey ones as he slammed his cards down on the table. Sapnap then reached to gather his winnings in chips, earning pats on the back from George and a gentle laugh and fist-bump from Dream. 

Fletcher sat in disbelief; he was sure he would win this one. Sapnap stood up and embraced George in a hug before moving to Dream as Fletcher circled around the table. 

“You cheating bastard!” Sapnap held his hands up in defence, clueless as to why this man was coming at him. 

“No cheating here, Fletch, just plain luck,” He grinned, clearly not fearful of him. 

“Dude just take the loss and move on, it’s not that deep,” Y/n said, catching the attention of Fletcher again. 

“Not now, you whore. The men are talking,” Fletcher glowered, looking intimidatingly down at the girl. 

Y/n, however, wasn’t fazed by his words, “Look, it’s not his fault that you lost. I guess you just suck at Poker.” Fletcher’s face went bright red, and Y/n swore she saw steam coming out of his ears. Her eyes widened as she took a step back slowly. George pushed her behind him despite her protests of being able to handle herself. 

“Come on Fletch, there’s no need to go after an innocent woman,” Dream asserted, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. He soon realised that his actions were a mistake as Fletcher spun around and threw his fist towards Dream’s nose. Dream’s mask had cracked slightly on impact, his green eyes widening in panic as he stumbled back slightly. 

Sapnap scanned the other men around them and calculated their next moves before he ducked a punch from a redhead. George’s hands gripped under Dream’s armpits as he pulled him up, dodging fists from the older men. Dream’s eyes were watering from the unexpected hit to the nose, and he could barely see.  

But what he did see was Y/n raising the metal drinks tray she found on the poker table next to them and slamming it down on the back of Fletcher’s bald head. Her eyes were wide as she stood behind his figure that was now on the floor, groaning. Her eyes met his and Dream felt his breath catch in his throat, but he couldn’t acknowledge it at the present time because there were five other guys to deal with. 

Dream regained his posture and cocked his head to the right, stretching his neck before standing off to the others. The men stood with their fists raised in front of their faces and their feet apart, ready to engage. George, Sapnap and Dream were just as confused as Y/n was, who was making sure Fletcher stayed down. 

“I really fucking hate you guys. Let’s get a move on with the meeting, shall we?” Y/n said lazily, she just wanted to get home. 

—

Dream sat in a large black chair, the lower half of his face covered in blood, the top half covered by his stained, cracked mask. Y/n had her legs crossed, with a stern expression, glaring at Schlatt as he rounded the table to sit at his obnoxiously large desk. 

Schlatt had demanded it only be Dream and Y/n in the office with him, making George and Sapnap wait outside. The two boys had angrily complained about it, but Dream assured them it would be fine, leaving them to sulk next to the heavy wooden door that led to Schlatt’s office. 

“You two make a good pair, eh?” Schlatt smirked, bringing his hands to interlock in front of him on the desk. Dream glanced at Y/n, who gave him a bored look. 

He then turned back to the front, “Why are we here, Schlatt?” 

“Oh, not very friendly,” He laughed, earning no responses from anyone in the room except for his assistant, Quackity, who stood in the corner. “That’s Quackity by the way.” 

Dream shrugged, uninterested with the introduction of his assistant and remained still until Schlatt continued.

“Now, tell me where the money is, Dream.” There it was—the literal million-dollar question.

The masked blonde didn’t react. Y/n cast her eyes towards him, seeing nothing but the white mask that covered his face. The smile on the front was a harsh contrast to the anger Dream felt. And when Schlatt huffed and wiggled his fingers at Quackity, then Dream perked up. 

Suddenly, Y/n wrists were being grabbed by Quackity, who had crossed the room in seconds. Dream immediately stood, only to be pushed back by Schlatt who had moved in front of him. 

Y/n opened her mouth object when Quackity whacked his free hand over her mouth. She let out a whimper at the smack, tears welling in her eyes in shock. Nonetheless, she continued to struggle against his harsh grip on her wrists. Y/n’s breathing became heavier, her thoughts clouded with fear of the unknown; what would Schlatt want with her?  

Quackity dragged the girl from the large chair towards the other side of the room, where another door lay, but he didn’t take her in yet. Dream’s gaze was locked on Y/n, everything else slipping away as he watched her thrash against her captor. 

“Let’s call it leverage?” Schlatt’s haunting voice echoed through the room, and he had an evil gleam in his eye. “You tell me where you hid the money, and I’ll let her go.” 

Dream’s head was on a swivel when he turned back to face Schlatt. Panic blossomed in his stomach; if he gave up the money, they’d all be dead. And as hard of a decision as it was, Dream knew what to do—he had his full faith in Y/n. He remembered what she had told him when they first started working together and drew in a breath. He nodded at Y/n once, receiving a pleading look in reply, and sighed.  

“Give ‘em hell, baby.” 

—

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Sapnap spat as the three men got back into the SUV outside of the casino. George shook his head in the backseat, scoffing as Dream ignored their questions. 

Meanwhile, Dream drove in complete fury. He knew what he did was wrong and stupid, but Y/n once demanded he let her go if she was ever held for ransom. It was an odd request at the time. And this was an irrational move that could get her killed, but he had no choice—it was her or the whole operation, and Dream was loyal. 

“Hello? You fuckin’—” 

“Sapnap.” 

The youngest froze at Dream’s tone and sunk into his seat, choosing to look out of the window than at him. He flexed his hand against the steering wheel, refusing to meet their gazes.

“Y/n asked me before any of this started, that if she were to ever be held hostage, for ransom, whatever, to trust her and let them take her. I don’t know why I never asked her why, but we have to trust her, and you have to trust me for making this decision.”  

“Call Techno and tell him that Schlatt’s taken one of us for ransom.” Dream said to no one in particular. Sapnap scrambled to get his phone from his pocket and dial their boss’ number, but not before turning and facing Dream from the passenger’s seat. 

“I—we trust you, Dream. And we’ll be with you till the end, okay?” Sapnap mumbled, gesturing to George in the backseat.  

“She’ll be fine.” Dream had a hard time believing George, “We know Y/n, she’s a strong girl—a whole lot stronger than us—she’ll get through it.” 

The piercing sound of metal against metal made Y/n cringe, distracting her from the burning of the new rope bound around her wrists. Quackity’s heavy breathing almost made her laugh, they hadn’t even walked for that long.

He didn’t say anything to Y/n when he guided her inside a cell. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around the dirty space, scrunching her nose in disgust as she noticed the damp walls and the stray cockroach that scurried across the floor. 

“I’m sorry about the state of this, we don’t have visitors often,” Quackity said, exhaling a scoff he let go of her arms. Y/n’s face dropped when she felt the rope loosen and fall off her wrists. She remained still as Quackity rummaged around behind her. 

The screech of the cell door closing startled Y/n—she thought she’d have more time to fight back. She heard Quackity shuffle away from the cell, and shortly after, the sound of dress shoes tapping on the concrete floor caught her attention. 

Y/n slowly turned around when someone cleared their throat behind her. She rolled her eyes as she came face to face with Schlatt. He stood with his hands behind his back in his usual arrogant suit and his deep red tie.

“Do you know why my tie is this red?” He asked, his head tilted to the side with a patronising smirk. It was an odd question, but Y/n could already guess the answer, she just didn’t want to hear it when she was this vulnerable. 

Schlatt leaned down and closer to the cell, his face fitting perfectly between the bars as his eyes glared into Y/n’s.  

“It’s so you can’t see the bloodstains.” He winked before sanding to his full height, his mood shifting entirely, “Anyways, I’m gonna keep this short. Get comfortable, Princess, you’ll be here awhile knowing Dream and his goons.” 

With a clap of his hands and a small chuckle, Schlatt left, his shoes clacking down the hallway and into the elevator at the end of the hallway. The machine dinged and then it was gone, leaving Y/n in a deafening silence. 

She sank to her knees, crestfallen, onto the concrete beneath her, still in her tight dress. As strong-minded as Y/n was, she couldn’t bring herself to give a witty remark. She was absolutely defeated. She knew Dream would get her out, eventually, but at what cost? Would Dream let everything the Dream Team has worked for in the past 3 years go to waste? For her? 

She didn’t let herself cry as she picked herself up, and hesitantly sat on the cot in the corner of the cell. Her dress was uncomfortable, and the feeling of satin against her skin irritated her immensely. 

Y/n had no idea how far underground she was; she sat in complete darkness and utter silence, nothing but the ringing of her ears and her screaming thoughts to keep her company. 

—

Dream paced the small space, tearing at his hair roots with his fists, his face red with panic and anger. He was so in his head; he couldn’t hear his two friends calling his name from 3 feet away. The thought of Y/n alone with Schlatt made him so infuriated he could punch a hole through the brick wall next to him. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and the stinging of his nails digging into his palms was numbing. 

Sapnap threw George a concerned glance, his brown eyes pleading George to do something to stop Dream from falling further into an endless loop of guilt and despair. 

“Dream!” The sound of George calling him in that tone caused him to pause his pacing. He turned to look at his English friend with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“You need to stop! Y/n wouldn’t want you having an existential crisis over her, she’d want you to hurry up and figure out a plan to get her back.”

Dream stood frozen for a moment; what would Y/n want? It was like a switch flipped inside Dream when he stood up straight, sending him into autopilot. All emotion wiped was from his face, leaving his eyes vacant and face blank. And as much as George hated to admit it, this cold version of his best friend knew what to do and how to do it efficiently. The sudden change shocked Sapnap slightly, leaving him frightened as he grabbed onto George’s sleeve. 

“Ok boys, let’s get to work.”

Emotion is a weakness, and they sure did not need that right now. 

Y/n had been suffering in the same tight dress and uncomfortable heels for a week; Schlatt’s lack of humanity and human decency (as well as kidnapping her in the first place), had put him in Y/n’s bad books.  

The only human interaction she had was Quackity bringing her meals twice a day and the small conversations they would have as she ate. He didn’t talk about his work much, only hinting at his eventual betrayal and escape from Schlatt. Although, he continually spoke of his family to her, telling Y/n that he was there against his will and was threatened with death if he left. She felt sympathy for the boy, he was so young. 

When Alex, as she now calls him, left her, Y/n was back with her mind. She had remained seemingly sane despite being in solitary confinement but was going insane without Dream. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his emerald ones gleaming at her through the darkness, their vibrance giving her shivers. 

She missed his touch: his cold hands in her’s, their knees brushing slightly when sitting on the motel bed, his hand on her thigh in the car, despite complaints from the boys. She cared deeply for him, and she knew he did too, but they were both too scared of rejection to get together. Sapnap always teased them for being ‘pussies’, and George would roll his eyes whenever they would flush at their closeness—god, she missed them too.

Biting her lip, Y/n tried her best to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks. But she hadn’t let them fall since being held ransom, fearing she would be seen as weak by Schlatt, and even Alex. The burning at the back of her throat was fiery as she let them out. She struggled to breathe, clawing at her throat when she felt her lungs tighten. Y/n tried to sit upright to calm herself down, but her pained cries filled the cold, concrete basement and rattled the cell bars. She sobbed for hours, only falling asleep when the last ones dried. 

—

As Dream put the car in park, he turned to face George in the passenger’s seat.

“You ready?” He asked. George exhaled and nodded, “Let’s get her back.” 

Dream smirked. His attitude had flipped entirely from last week, leaving him cocky and ready to fight the world. However, George saw through his best friend’s act. He heard Dream’s choked and ragged cries in the bathroom at 4 am, and noticed his red, puffy eyes at 7 am when they woke up. He saw the way his hands shook every time he drove, and he caught onto Dream’s routine of not eating until Sapnap would force him away from the table with the plans spread across it. 

George was concerned for his best friend, and Dream was oblivious. But despite everything, George knew he was determined to get Y/n back, above all else. Her life came before his own, and that scared George to his core, how far would Dream go to save Y/n?

“Ok, Geor—” The piercing screams of fire alarms made Dream jump as they echoed down the street. The two boys shared a surprised look before they hopped out of the SUV. They jogged down the road towards the Palm Casino with black duffle bags on their shoulders.  

Flames rose as high as the sky and embers rained on Dream and George as they ran through the smoke to the entrance. Employees darted out of the main doors, crashing into the boys as they continued to the central control room of the casino. George heaved the heavy door open before closing it firmly behind them. They dropped the bags and began drinking in the clean air as they set their eyes on Sapnap who sat behind a desk with his feet up on the table. 

“Well, boys, how did I do?” He said, arms out as he cocked his eyebrow up. George laughed in disbelief, “I can’t believe that worked.”  

Sapnap shook his head quickly, “You had no faith in me, did you?” He threw his hand on his chest and stood up from his spot. 

“Sap, you did great!” Dream exclaimed, walking over to slap the boy on the back. Sapnap’s pained expression turned into a smile as he watched George do the same. 

“Ok then, where’s the security office?”

—

“I can’t fit my fat ass through there, Sapnap.” Dream’s jaw dropped as he measured the gap with his hands, “There’s just no way!” 

George rolled his eyes and pushed Dream towards the duct, “Just go! Do you want Y/n back or not?” Dream’s face scrunched up, much like a child when having a tantrum, and whined. 

“Why don’t you just go? I simply just cannot fit! Here, you wanna see?” George and Sapnap nodded, amused looks on their faces as they watched him dive headfirst into the air duct. 

His body slipped in in such an elegant way that it made them burst out laughing. Dream, who couldn’t see his friends, exhaled deeply before he began crawling along. His movements heightened their laughter, seeing him wiggle through, but it only made Dream more determined to pursue the journey. 

“Oh yeah, you have such a fat ass, Dream! Throw it back for me, baddie!” Sapnap yelled after him, his giggles interrupting the sentence a few times. 

George and Sapnap’s antics were long gone, and all Dream could hear was the squeaking of an elevator and the creaking of the metal beneath him. He had memorised the layout of the ducts in his head and decided that this was the spot to drop down into.  

The first basement looked usual,  with a boiler in the corner and some filing cabinets lining the walls. Dream dropped from the ceiling with no sound, moving silently towards the elevator in the opposing corner of the large room. The sound of shoes slapping the hard ground paused Dream’s movements before he moved quickly behind a cabinet. 

“—He said not to go down there, Tubbo. What do you think he’s hiding?” 

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, were those kids? He adjusted his mark slightly before he peeked around the corner of the filing cabinet. Sure enough, Dream saw two teenage boys, one significantly taller than the other. But nonetheless, they were definitely very young. Why did Schlatt hire two British kids to guard his secret underground prison? Dream shook his head, glancing down at the floor as he crept out of his hiding spot. 

“Oi!” He heard. Dream looked up, seeing the taller boy stalk towards him. The blonde boy stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looked back at the other boy. 

“Tubbo, do you know who this is?” The blonde asked in disbelief. The shorter one nodded, his expression lifting at the sight of Dream. Their jaws dropped as Dream exhaled deeply. 

“Dream? As in the Dream Team? As in Techno Industries?” Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask. He didn’t respond as the two boys inched closer to him. 

“Listen, I’ll give you a few bucks if you don’t mention this to Schlatt, got it?” Dream growled, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. The boys’ eyes shone, the shorter one reaching forward to accept the bribe before the blonde pushed him back. 

“That’s all? I was expecting at least a grand each from THE Dream.” He smirked. Dream remained expressionless and went to decline before the blonde continued. “It’s a grand each or I tell Schlatt you were snooping around his casino.” 

Dream shook his head and pulled another $600 from his pocket and shoved it into their hands, “Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll do it myself.” 

The taller one went to reply, but the other one pulled on his sleeve and shook his head. He rolled his eyes and mumbled a string of curse words before turning and stomping away. The other boy muttered a quick ‘thank you’ with a small smile on his face and hurried off in the direction of the staircase that went up to the casino’s main floor. Dream guessed that the fire had been taken care of by the way they fled carelessly up the stairs. 

Dream sighed and trod over to the elevator. He pressed the arrow to go down and groaned when the scanner next to it blinked red. 

He scrunched up his face when he glanced back towards the air duct. The only other option was to try and get down the air duct and into the rafters in the basement below. 

Dream had the urge to throw a temper tantrum at Sapnap’s shitty planning. He pulled himself back up into the duct and crawled towards the wall where the elevator was. Reaching a sharp drop, Dream looked over the edge, his eyes widening at the height. He grunted as he positioned himself above the fall; all he had to do was slide down. 

He could hardly see the bottom, but he knew if he slid down as planned, he would go straight through. So, instead, Dream slowly moved his arms and legs into the small space and gradually let himself down, inching closer to the bottom with every move.  

Sweat dripped down his temple, and his muscles ached as he went, his palms becoming slippery against the smooth and thin metal. He held his breath as he reached the bottom, scared any sound he made would attract unwanted attention from whoever could be in the vicinity.  

He let out a quiet, steady breath, and he returned to his hands and knees in the horizontal air duct. His original plan was irrelevant, so he didn’t know the map of the air ducts in the second basement, leaving him guessing. 

Once he thought the spot was right, he harshly pushed on a panel of the duct below him, hearing it clatter on the concrete as it hit the ground. He cringed at the sound and slowly lowered himself onto the beams that were directly below him. How convenient. 

The sharp sound of the panel dropping had caught the attention of several guards. On this level, there were actual security guards with weapons and not lippy teenagers. Dream made eye contact with one of them, scolding himself when the man scrambled for his walkie talkie as he spotted Dream on the beams above. 

Dream rolled his eyes and dropped from the ceiling, crouching as he landed before standing up. He brought his pointer finger to his lips before bringing his fist to his neck and dragging his thumb across the skin. The action itself made the security guard’s eyes widen and freeze his movements. Dream’s sadistic smile and seemingly wild nature made the guard move backwards into the wall as he passed. 

He went around another corner and was met with an entirely different area he wasn’t expecting. But, Dream was sure he was going to succeed in finding Y/n and escaping as soon as possible. And of course, the echo of a sinister whistle made him freeze. Fuck.

“Dream! Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” As Schlatt rounded the corner, a smirk spread across his smug face, Dream squeezed his eyes shut. 

“A little friend of mine told me you were here! Just thought I’d come and say hi,” He chuckled as Dream cracked his knuckles. Damn kids.

“Schlatt, where’s Y/n?” Dream demanded, cracking his neck when he jerked his head to the side. 

“Now, that’s not a nice way to greet a friend, is it, Dream?” 

Dream’s eyes widened behind his mask. He stood stunned, no words coming from his mouth. 

“Dream, she’s not yours. She never has been. So why do you think you have to save her?” Dream’s expression remained the same as Schlatt continued, “You’re too pussy to even ask her out, let alone be her boyfriend.” It was a ridiculous argument, Schlatt knew that, but he was positive he was going to get a rise out of Dream this way. 

He sneered at Dream’s silence, the deep rumble of his cackle rattling Dream’s bones. Suddenly, a scream added to the ominous atmosphere that Schlatt had created, and Dream jumped into action, launching himself at the older man. 

“Where is she?” His voice became raspy as he threw a punch at Schlatt’s temple. Schlatt growled at the attempt and hurled his arm back at Dream. He dodged it, barely, but stepped back and rushed towards the cell Y/n was in. 

“Y/n?” He shouted, ducking and searching for the girl through the bars of the numerous cells that lined the basement. 

“Here.” 

The sound of her broken voice snapped Dream into action. Sprinting down the hallway, he was met with Y/n’s grubby and exhausted body. His heart broke at the sight of her, and he gripped the bars, pulling and pushing them in an attempt to break them. 

Dream was so caught up in getting Y/n out, he didn’t notice Schlatt coming from his left. 

The impact of a fist colliding with his temple sent Dream stumbling to the right, his mask cracking slightly in the corner at the force. He grunted in pain before spinning to meet Schlatt again, who had his arm raised in its previous position. Dream tried to shake his head from his dazed state, the unexpected hit stunning his consciousness. 

Schlatt aimed once again and swung his fist to hit Dream in the face. But, Dream saw it coming and swivelled to the left to dodge the incoming punch. Schlatt let out a guttural sound, growing frustrated with his miss. The hit to his temple left Dream seeing stars; however, he managed to duck and strike Schlatt in his stomach, earning a deep groan. The older man recovered quickly, picking himself back up to his full height as he mumbled, “bastard.” 

Dream was losing shamefully, lazily avoiding punches and swaying lightly as Schlatt grinned at his anticipated win. 

Whilst Dream stumbled slightly, Schlatt snickered, his fist coming across to hit him again. This time, the punch followed through and cracked his ceramic mask fully, the object dropping to the ground and shattering on impact. Schlatt barked out a laugh as he watched the pieces scatter.  

“And here we have, the real Dream! You know, you’re not what I expected. Definitely uglier.” He cackled, doubling over in laughter as Dream watched. He blinked and was void of any emotion as Schlatt stood back up. 

“What? Can’t take a joke?” Dream clenched his jaw, and he lunged forwards, his hands coming to grip onto Schlatt’s shoulders and bringing his knee up to jab him in his stomach. He groaned out in pain as he doubled over, yet again, but this time not in joy. 

The back of Dream’s belt that held his handgun was screaming at him. So, reaching behind him, Dream revealed his firearm. The weapon had wiped Schlatt’s smug look off of his face, replacing it with one of fear. His expression mocked Dream, although he didn’t catch onto Schlatt’s taunting. 

“Dream, listen, buddy—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt.”

But, Dream’s face contorted to something of confusion and horror when Schlatt started chuckling. He pulled the side of his suit jacket to the side to reveal a similar Glock, making Dream freeze his once confident motions. 

“You see, I’m always 3 steps ahead of you, Dream,” Schlatt tormented, pulling the gun from its secure place in his jacket.  

“You’re fucked now.” Dream went to lunge at him again, but Schlatt stepped to the side and pushed him down.

Dream’s gun went sliding across the polished concrete and out of his reach. The blonde swore as he saw Schlatt stumbling towards his fallen body. He lifted himself off of the ground, panting heavily as he ducked another punch from the older man. Dream stepped back, balancing his weight on his right foot, and threw his fist out towards Schlatt’s cheek. The punch landed, and Schlatt staggered backwards slightly, blood dripping from his lips as he grinned. 

“I see how it’s gonna be,” He lifted his arm and aimed the gun towards Y/n, who stood in the cell behind him. Dream leaned to the side to catch Y/n’s pained gaze. 

“Please,” Dream’s strained voice was barely audible through Schlatt’s booming psychotic laughter. Clenching his fists, Dream glared at him, “Don’t do this, Schlatt.” 

“Oh, Dream, I could do this all day!—” A flat crack bounced off the concrete room and was soon followed by a heavy thud. Dream swallowed in shock as he watched deep red blood spill across the floor, oozing out of the fresh wound. He was frozen in his spot as he watched the body twitch and then loll, unmoving. 

“Dream?” Dream’s eyes flickered from Schlatt’s body to Y/n, who stood with his gun loosely in her hand. 

“Y/n?” His voice was weak as he struggled to stand. The clatter of the gun dropping on the hard surface didn’t come close to silence the thoughts running through his head.  

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay, I’m here. Dream?” Y/n cried, wrapping her arms around Dream’s stiff body. His hand came up to feel the wetness on his cheeks, and he pulled it away, seeing red smeared on his fingers. 

“He’s gone?” He whispered, earning a nod from Y/n, “It’s okay.”

“No, I know. It just shocked me, that’s all. I thought he killed you.” 

Y/n sighed, tightening her grip on him, pressing her face into his shoulder, “I’m right here, see. I’m not hurt, I’m fine, with you.”  

Dream turned his head towards her, an unsure expression on his face as he threw his arms around her. 

“Fuck, I thought—” 

“Dream. Deep breaths.” He nodded, following Y/n’s motions in breathing evenly. 

“Jesus, usually you’re the one helping me calm down from something like this,” Y/n giggled, her hand coming to run her fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of drying blood. A smile broke out on Dream’s face before he noticed Y/n’s eyes widen and her head fly to the side to search for something. 

“What’s wrong?” Dream asked, seeing Y/n’s eyebrows crease, “Your mask.” She whispered, spotting the shattered ceramic feet away from where they sat. 

Dream breathed out a laugh, bringing her face back towards his, “My mask is the least of my worries right now.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” 

“Of course, you will.” 

“Y/n!” Sapnap yelled, running towards the girl as she pushed open the security office door. Y/n locked her arms around Sapnap’s shoulders as they embraced, the pair giggling in disbelief. 

“How have you guys not been kicked out yet? The fire’s out.” Dream said, closing the door behind them. George shrugged, “Paid ‘em off.” Dream snorted in response.

When Y/n pulled away from Spanap, she hugged George, who was eagerly waiting behind them. 

“Don’t do that ever again. You left me with two dumbasses for so long,” George mumbled. Y/n felt tears fill her eyes as she squeezed George tighter, “I missed you guys so much.”

And after a teary reunion, the group sat around the desk in the middle of the room. 

“Where’s the big man himself?” Sapnap nervously laughed, dread ate at his conscience at the thought of Schlatt coming after them again. 

“Schlatt’s dead.” The news had George raising his eyebrows and pushing his head forward, “Huh? Sorry? What?” 

“He’s dead, Y/n killed him.” Dream stated, earning a small smile from Sapnap that Y/n laughed at. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Sapnap’s reaction made me giggle.” 

The group shared a collective rumble of laughter before Dream suggested they went back to the motel. 

“Hey,” Dream whispered at Y/n when she passed him, gently grasping her elbow. “You guys go ahead, I just need to speak with Y/n,” He continued, waving the boys in the direction of the car. George and Sapnap shared a knowing look and tried their best to conceal their cheeky smiles. 

“What’s up with them?” Y/n asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder at the boys. Dream shook his head slightly, “No clue.” 

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask how you are. You know, after everything.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m okay, I think. I don’t think anything’s really hit me yet.” Dream sighed in response. 

Y/n sucked her lips between her teeth, throwing her arms around Dream’s neck in a hug. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“Thank you,” She whispered in his ear, her voice cracking with emotion. Dream’s heart clenched at the sound and tightened his grip around her. 

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, you know that,” He murmured, hiding his reddening face in her neck. He flushed, even more, when he felt her lips against his neck, “I love you, so much, Dream.” 

Dream’s heart skipped a beat before he pulled his head from her neck. His green eyes looked into hers, the closeness of them making Y/n inhale sharply. 

“And I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” He replied, his voice low. Y/n nodded shortly, inching her lips up to his. 

“Kiss me.” She muttered, nudging his nose with hers. Dream laughed breathy before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. 

Their bodies had become flushed against one another, her hips against his as they shared a heated kiss. Dream pulled away first, his cheeks pink and his lips plump. Y/n whined silently, bouncing in her heels at the loss of his lips. 

Dream smiled widely at her, “I guess I want you more than I thought I did.” Y/n gasped, taking her hand from his neck to slap his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl at his teasing. 

“Shut up, you’ve wanted me since you met me,” She said to which Dream nodded. 

“You got that right, baby.” 

Feedback is greatly appreciated, always xoxo

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Characters:

Bucky Barnes x ExAvenger!Reader

Summary:

It has been a year since you left the life of being an Avenger. But after a year, someone showed up in your house, telling you that you left something when you left your old life. What could it be?

Warning:

Swearing

Mention of sex/one night stand

Fluff

Bucky being soft (it's a warning, right?)

One of the best years of your life was being an avenger. You were one of the greatest assets of the team, that's why when you left the team, they had a big loss. It wasn't really your intention to leave the life you had, but when Steve disappeared, Tony and Nat died, you were deeply devastated. You and the rest of Avengers like Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Clint, Bruce, Thor, the Guardians, and Spider-man continued what the original six started. However, one heated argument between you and Bucky made you leave the team — after a mission in Norway, you comforted Bucky when you saw him alone in the roof of the compound, you told him that he shouldn't let sadness take over him and his life, but Bucky didn't liked it. He exploded and told you that instead of Steve, Nat, and Tony, it should have been you who died and disappeared.

The very next day after your argument with Bucky, you left the compound and you just left them a letter, telling them how sorry you were for leaving them. You told them that you are not worthy anymore to be part of them, so you made a sacrifice, leaving the old life you had.

Upon leaving the Avengers, you moved to a small city in California. You started your own farm there and live in a peaceful life, but sometimes you miss being on the team, especially when you see them on the news.

But you had to make a sacrifice. After all, you think you're not worthy enough, not like what Tony, Steve, and Nat has always been telling you.

They're gone, and so is your faith in yourself.

•••

You're in the middle of painting your front porch when you heard someone walking towards you. Your back is facing the front yard of your house, so you don't know if someone's coming or not, but because of your super hearing, you heard that someone is walking behind you.

You got up from painting the base of your porch and turned around to see who was walking towards you.

It's the most unexpected guest you ever had in your entire life — it's the man who made you decide to leave your old life, James Buchanan Barnes.

You avoided his gaze and continue whatever you are doing.

"Y/n," you heard him called you, but you just continue with what you're doing.

"What are you doing here, Barnes?" you asked him without looking at him.

"It took us so long before we could finally trace your actions for the past year. Did you really think we wouldn't find you?" he asked you.

You knew it was Wanda who always wanted to find you. She's your friend. It was you, Nat, and Wanda who had always been friends, but after Nat died and after Wanda disappeared, you lost the only friends you had. Eight months ago, you found out from the news that Wanda came back, more powerful and more capable of helping other people. You knew she wouldn't stop until she found you.

But why is Bucky Barnes who came after you and not Wanda?

"Ever since you left, all of us did everything what we could do to find you, but hell, you are good in hiding. Even Dr. Strange and Wanda cannot find you," Bucky continued talking as he walk closer to you.

You chuckled sarcastically, "Can't you just go straight to the point? Why are you really here?" you put down your paintbrush and faced him, "What do you need from me?"

He took one last step closer to you, "I need you to come back to the team."

The moment you heard him said that, you laughed and walked towards your tool shed. He followed you and you could see how confuse he is when he heard you laugh at him.

"What is so funny?" he asked you.

"You are funny, Barnes," you stopped from opening the door of your tool shed and faced him, "You were the one who wanted me to be out of the team, right? You told me that instead of Nat, Steve, and Tony, it should've been just me who died and disappeared. You remember that?" you asked him, fighting the emotion that is stsrting to build inside you.

He did not answer you and you see guilt in his eyes. But it's already too late for him to feel that way — he already caused you so much pain.

"Why don't you just go back to where you came from and leave me alone? You wanted this right? You wanted me to be gone? So here I am, I've been gone for a year. What else do you need from me?" you asked him.

You resumed in opening the door of your tool shed but before you could finally opened it, you heard him spoke again.

"When you left the team, you left something in there," he said.

You have no idea what he was talking about. When you left the compound, you made sure you got all your things and other belongings. So you have no idea what something you left when you left the compound.

"Me."

You rapidly turned around to face him once again.

"What the hell are you saying?" you asked him unbelievably.

"You left me feeling guilty for what I did and say to you. You left me and I wasn't able to ask for forgiveness for what I did. You left me hanging. And most importantly, you left me wanting you," he said continuously. You did not noticed that in every word he says, he is walking closer to you, and in ever step he does, you move back, but you stopped moving the moment you felt the door of the tool shed behind you, "The night you and I had an argument, I was having a rough time. I didn't know how I could live a life without my best friend, Steve. I wasn't ready to move on, but you kept on telling me to move on."

Your eyes remained on his gaze. You didn't even had the guts to move away or push him away. It seems like you were hypnotized by the way he looks at you and how he caged you between his body and the tool shed's door.

"I didn't mean any word I said that night to you. I don't want you to die or be gone as well. I want you to stay with me until the end."

When you heard him say those words to you, you came back to your senses. You pushed him away and walked away from him. It's not a surprise that he followed you.

"Y/n, I am telling the truth," he said while following you. "I thought I was just feeling guilty the whole time you were gone. Everybody is blaming me for your disappearance, and I thought I was just guilty about the fact that it was really my fault why you left. But no, it's not just about the guilt. It's about the longing I felt when you left."

"Longing?!" you growled as you stop from walking. You turned around and faced him, "You long for the person you wished to die and just disappear?" you scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Do you have any idea how painful it is for me to hear those words coming from you? You, of all people, Bucky! You, of all people, said those words to me and made me feel like I'm just a nobody in your life! You made me feel I'm just a fucking whore you fucked once, and that was it! You made me believe that there's something special growing between us, but I was God damn wrong!"

Before you left the compound and the Avengers life, you and Bucky shared a beautiful moment together. You were with him when he visited Yori and apologized for the death of his son. After that, he asked you if you could stay with him for a while and he'll cook dinner for both of you. And so he did, soon after your dinner, you found yourself giving in and kissing him back. You thought it was the start of something beautiful and something deep with him, but after a week, he exploded to you and told you harsh things you never thought you could hear from him.

"I thought we're onto something good, Bucky. But it was just all a fucking thought," you wiped your tears away as soon as you felt them on your cheeks.

"I'm sorry for making you feel that way, y/n," he walked towards you and cupped your face. You wanted to avoid his touch but your body did not oblige to your will, "I was just lost at that time. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I was ready to give my all to you and just lose you. I thought by pushing you away, it would be less complicated for both of us. I can't afford to lose another person in my life. But I still did lose you."

Your tears continue to run down your cheeks as you listen to his words, his explanation.

You told yourself a million times, the next time you'll see him, you'll break his face, his bones. But you couldn't, especially seeing him now this close.

"Everyday, I hated myself for hurting you and letting you leave just like that. Everyday, I am regretting the words I pierced through you. And everyday, I am killing myself for wasting the beautiful start we had," he uses his thumb to wiped your tears away, "I tried my best to find you, to take you back, to apologize, and to have you again by my side, because without you, I am nothing, y/n. And I am not saying these words just because I've made a mistake to you. I am saying these words because I want to have you back in my life."

You looked down, making him remove his hands on your face, "I...I don't know if...if I could trust you again, Bucky."

You were too scared to trust him again, especially with your heart.

"You're asking me to give you my full trust again, Bucky. And it's a big thing to ask from someone who got scared of trusting people again," you said while looking down.

He uses his hand to hold your chin and make you look up to meet his gaze again, "I am willing to do anything to earn your trust again. I am not forcing you to do it right away, but I will earn your trust in every possible way I can," he seems like he was vowing or promising. "But I did not come all the way here just for your trust, y/n."

Your brows furrowed with what he said.

"I also came here to be worthy of your love."

Before you could say anything, he grabbed one of your hands and placed it against his chest, where his heart is.

"Because when you left, you left this one as well," he said referring to his heart.

You imagined countless times that you want Bucky to suffer and feel the pain you felt when you left everything behind because of him. But after a year of hiding your love for him with anger, you finally realized that it wasn't anger at all, it has always been love. Your heart has always been with him. You thought, why make him suffer when you can make him earn what he lost from the times that you've been away from each other — your trust & your love for him.

You hated him because he hurt you, but after hearing his explanation, it all made sense to you.

You are still in love with Bucky Barnes.

-v.dl

[holylulusworld]

White wolf & his omega

Summary: On an endless mission to take out people for Hydra the assets scent’s you, the one thing he never thought he’ll be able to find – his true mate.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton

Warnings: ABO, ABO dynamics, angst, scenting, comforting, protective alpha, fighting, violence, blood, bad use of Russian language, true mates, mentions of claiming, kidnapping

A/N: Final sequel to: White Wolf - Part 1 & Her White Wolf - Part 2

Wrapped in your alpha’s arms, sleeping peacefully you mumble his name in your sleep. Bucky is still wide awake, not due to nightmares or the guilt he still feels but to look at you. He’s calmer close to you, especially when he can look at the claiming mark he left during your first heat together.

He was still afraid the asset, the dark man inside his head, will show when he gives in to his primal instinct, but you had faith in him, your alpha.

Bucky nuzzles your neck, purring low when you whimper his name, moving closer to his warm body. Winter came fast and you are not used to cold, ice, and snow. You only lived in warm places so far which means experiencing a winter with frost and snow is new to you.

“Cold,” you scoot closer to Bucky, hiding your face in his chest whilst you press your body as close as possible to your mates.

“It’s warm, doll. You’re such a cute little frostbite,” Bucky smirks, watching you narrow your eyes at your mate. “Let me warm you up, Y/N.”

“You should sleep too, alpha. I know you got up to add more wood to the fire and that you cut more wood in the middle of the night,” you wrap your arms around Bucky, nuzzling your cheek into his chest. “I love you for caring about me, but I care about you too.”

“I promise to sleep when you hold me like this a bit longer,” you inhale the warm and calming scent of your mate before you close your eyes, holding the alpha in your arms. “Love you too, Y/N.”

“No, it’s cold outside, Bucky,” you whine, not wanting to leave the cozy house you call your home for almost eight months. “Let’s stay inside and forget about food, please.”

“Doll, we need to get more supplies and boots for you, my cute omega. You can stay here, and I’ll drive to town to get all we will need,” Bucky watches you scrunch up your nose before you shake your head. Since your alpha claimed you six months ago you are glued to his side.

“I don’t want you to go alone. Last time you needed three hours and I was so worried,” you grasp your boots and coat. “I’ll come with you, alpha. Just a minute, I need to get my scarf and hand gloves.”

“I’ll wait at the truck for you, doll. Do not worry, Y/N. I will not leave without you,” Bucky laughs when you run upstairs to get your scarf and hand gloves.

“We’ve got ladies toiletries for my doll, new razor blades for me to shave,” Bucky crosses all the things he found off his list. “Shampoo, toilet paper, shower gel, and a new loofah for my girl.”

You nod, leaning into Bucky’s embrace when he wraps one arm around your waist. “Got you a new base cap too, alpha. One in black and a blue one.”

“That makes two, Y/N,” you nod, pointing toward the shelf with sweets. “Sweets, got it, Y/N.”

“We got canned food, potatoes, and my magazines too. You said something about beer and water.” Bucky smirks, pointing toward the shopping cart. “My alpha already got it.”

“I did, doll. Now let’s check the list before we pay,” looking at the list you hum with every article Bucky crosses out. “We forgot your body lotion and socks. My girl needs warm socks.”

“I’ll get the body lotion, you will grab the socks,” pecking your lips Bucky hums, not wanting to admit he hates to let you out of sight.

“Body lotion, uh-after shave lotion for my alpha, cherry lipgloss and a soft flannel for Bucky and me,” looking at the things in your arms you hear a snarl behind you. A younger alpha looks at you, a dirty grin on his lips.

“What brings you out here, sweetie?” He purrs but you take a step backward, not caring he wants to talk to you. “Don’t be shy.”

“I’m claimed and my alpha is with me,” you try to spare the young alpha’s life, knowing Bucky could kill him if he tries anything. “If you excuse me now, I got to go back to my boyfriend.”

“You did not answer my question, bitch.” The slap the man gives you hits you by surprise, causing you to stumble and fall onto your butt. A grin on his lips the alpha steps closer, towering over your shaking form and you do what your instinct tells you – screaming for your alpha.

“Omega,” it’s a matter of seconds before Bucky is by your side to help you up. He’s shoving you behind his back, giving the smaller boy a warning snarl. “Get out of my sight and away from my omega, boy.”

The soldier would’ve just killed the boy but Bucky, he tries to spare an inexperienced alpha’s life. The problem is – that boy ain’t smart.

“Why don’t you go for tea, gramps. I bet,” the alpha dips his head to look at you behind Bucky’s back, “your omega prefers a younger alpha.”

“Stupid,” the clerk shakes his head, offering to bring you away from your alpha but a deep growl leaves Bucky’s lips, and the kind beta steps away, nodding at your alpha.

The boy still doesn’t get he’s in trouble, even dares to step toward you until he finds himself pressed against the wall, Bucky’s metal fist around his throat.

“I warned you. That’s my omega, my girlfriend. Did your parents do not teach you manners?” Now the boy sniffs, choking on the word ‘sorry’. “I should kill you; rip you apart limb by limb.”

“Alpha,” your soft voice calms Bucky, holds back the anger threatening to let your alpha lash out. “Let’s pay for our things and drive home. It’s getting late and cold,” you place one hand onto Bucky’s arm, hoping he will let go of the boy.

“You’re right, doll,” Bucky drops the now whining alpha to the ground, turning his attention back toward you. “We should head out before it’s too dark to drive back.”

“So much snow,” you watch the snowflakes fall outside the window, looking at every flake with curiosity. “I never thought snow would be that pretty…”

“…and cold,” pecking your neck Bucky snickers when you punch his chest playfully. “I mean it, Y/N. Snow is cold, wet, and will let your tiny toes fall off.”

“You’re awful, Bucky,” you grin when he hands you a pair of fuzzy socks, the ones he bought for you. “I’m sorry that I screamed for you. That guy, he scared me. I…I saw a flashbacks of the men at the room you brought me to that day.”

“Never apologize for seeking my protection, ‘mega,” Bucky nuzzles his face into your neck, smiling as you wrap your arms around him. “I will always protect you.

“I know, I just don’t want…” a loud knock disturbs your intimate moment with your alpha. “Who could come here at that time of the day? No one knows we live up here.”

“Stay in the living room, take the phone from my jacket and if anything happens, call Steve. Simply press the buttons I showed you,” your heart starts to race at Bucky’s words. “Don’t be scared.”

Bucky turns to walk toward the door while you do as he said. Hiding in the living room, you press the phone to your heart.

Scared something could happen to your alpha you glance out of the window to see four cops surround your alpha.

You can hear his gruff voice, he seems to argue with the eldest cop before he shoots Bucky thrice. Gasping you dial Steve’s number, praying he will come in time to help his friend.

“Steve, we need your help. Here are  cops, but they do not act like cops. I’m scared. Bucky told me to call you if anything happens, please…” You sniffle when Steve tells you to hide somewhere safe. “I can’t, Steve. I need to see who they are.”

“Y/N?” Steve storms into the cabin, gasping as the whole house looks like a battleground. “Sam, Nat, look upstairs. Tony, Clint, I need your help downstairs.”

“Does your friend still wear his arm?” Tony smirks, getting his phone out. “If he does we can trace him. Let’s say I let someone put a nice little transponder at his shiny shoulder.”

“I don’t know if I shall punch or kiss you, Tony,” laughing Sam looks at Tony who seems to consider Steve’s offer. “We need to find Y/N first. The last thing she said was that they dragged Bucky away after one of them shoot him.”

“Is there a chance she’s still around? Maybe Y/N hides somewhere?” Natasha looks around the house, shaking her head. “We shouldn’t have left them on their own, Steve.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I wanted normal for him and her. I had hoped we can keep Bucky and his omega out of this world for a while,” Steve sighs, listening to an odd noise coming from the kitchen.

“Kitchen, Capsicle. Go left, I’ll take the right side,” Tony silently walks into the kitchen, nodding at Steve who tries to find the source of the noise. “Sound like a wail or sob, Steve.”

“Shit,” Steve nods before he opens the supply cabinet to find you curled inside the cramped space. “Y/N, it’s good to see you.”

Whilst Steve helps you out of the cabinet, running one hand soothingly down your back Tony nods at his friend, pointing toward his phone.

“A house in town, Steve?” Confused Steve looks at you not understanding why the police should bring Bucky to a house in town. “Don’t get me wrong, I am glad it’s not Hydra, Rumlow, or the big bad guy hiding in the dark but, I would like to know what’s going on.”

“Y/N, did something happen? Is there a reason for them to take Bucky?” You nod, recalling what happened at the store. “Tell me everything.”

“We drove to town for supplies. Bucky was busy getting warm socks and I wanted to get the rest from the list. There was a young alpha, he scared me. I fell and Bucky wanted that guy to leave me alone, but the boy wasn’t smart. Bucky had his metal hand around his throat, but I calmed him, and we left,” you are shaking now, looking up at Steve. “Do you think that’s the reason they shot Bucky?”

“That’s fishy, Steve. If the fight was the reason to come here, why the destruction and violence. You said Bucky only talked to the men, right?” Nodding you look at Sam, feeling fresh tears well up to your eyes.

“We will find out soon enough. I suggest Steve, Tony and you go to town. Y/N and I will pack the most important things. Clint can check the surroundings and make sure no one sneaks toward the cabin to attack us unprepared,” Natasha holds out her hand, giving you a warm smile. “Steve got this, Y/N. He will bring your alpha back, promised.”

“Tell me where the money is, bastard,” the man barks, punching Bucky’s face but the alpha remains stoic, unmoving. “The money!”

“I know they have a lot of it. Look at the car that bastard drives and the girl he has. No one would live out here in such an expensive house, driving such a car without money.” The boy from the store grins, lying through his teeth.

“Money?” Bucky spats blood onto the floor. He’s twisting his metal fist in the handcuffs, hearing the familiar crack of breaking metal. “Or is it the fact you tried to touch my omega and I had to push you a little,” the boy turns pale, looking scared at the men kidnapping your alpha.

“Omega? This is about some pussy, boy?” The eldest man barks, slapping the back of his sons head. “You said we can make fast money. Hell, I stole a police car and their uniforms from my laundry.”

“They have money, the omega is just a bonus, for me,” before the men can react Bucky rips the handcuffs apart, using the chair he was handcuffed to moments ago to knock the eldest man out.

“No…this can’t…” Bucky smirks when the boy finally realizes whose omega he dared to threaten. “The…the winter soldier?”

“James Buchanan Barnes, to be correct. But my friend prefers Bucky,” Steve bursts through the door, followed by Sam and Tony. “I guess you have this under control, Buck?”

“Is Y/N safe?” Worried Bucky looks at his friend, praying you were able to hide until Steve arrived.

“She’s safe with Natasha and Clint,” Tony answers your alpha’s question. “How about we give you ten and wait outside?” Bucky dips his head, glancing at the three remaining men.

“Give me five…”

“Alpha!” Wrapping your arms around Bucky you sniffle into his chest. “I was so worried about you. I thought it’s Hydra,” you cry now, looking up at your alpha.

“I guess the cat is out,” Tony looks around the cabin, sighing deeply. “That boy, he recognized the winter soldier. We got to get the hell out of here.”

“We have to leave,” Bucky whispers, lifting your chin with his index finger. “It’s not safe here any longer, doll. I promise to protect you.”

“They shoot you,” carefully touching Bucky’s chest you sniffle. “Are you hurt?”

“It was a sedative dart. I think they used three until I felt dizzy. I’m sorry, I got careless, omega. This will never happen again,” Steve clears his throat, pointing at Clint who carries your bags toward one of the cars.

“We will bring you to the headquarters and see where we go from here,” Bucky nods, thankful his friend kept you safe.

“I don’t care where we live as long as I can stay by your side, white wolf,” you peck Bucky’s lips, sighing when he returns the kiss.

“Guys, I’m glad the white wolf found his omega, but we need to get out of here, like yesterday,” Tony insists, smirking when Bucky growls at him.

“We should go, alpha,” holding out your hand you lead Bucky toward one of the cars. “I packed all our things, including the fuzzy socks…”

“My girl needs her fuzzy socks,” you nod, letting your alpha wrap one arm around your shoulder. “I only need my omega, doll.”

“…and I only need you, Bucky…”

All works Tags

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@rynabarnesrogers-reading​​

@emoryhemsworth​​

@buckybarnesplumwhore​​

@wonderlandfandomkingdom​​​

@kitkatd7​​

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

Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore​​

@notyourtypicalrose​​

@voltage-my2dlove​​

@officialmarvelwhore​​

@randomgirlkensy​​

@juniorhuntersam​​

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@mrsdeanwinchester19​

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Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

@rynabarnesrogers​​

@marshyrebelcloud​​​​

@buchanan-lover​​​

@rosalynshields​​

@neii3n​​

[asset35-maya]

MANMADE FATE

Summary: Connor and Gavin find an unresponsive RK900 android in an abandoned Cyberlife warehouse and take him home to fix. (Not so subtle plot twist: both of them fall in love with their secret science project)

//

PART ONE OF THREE:

The crew from Jericho led a successful revolution but there’s still a lot of work to be done. Markus may have won human hearts and gotten the federal government to back down, but Cyberlife is still at large.

Sure, hundreds of androids at the Tower escaped to march on the streets behind Connor, but that was just a little dent in the big machine. Cyberlife has tons of intellectual property and assets that could easily put them back in power.

Simon and Markus insist they can work with the authorities to regulate and ring-fence the massive corporation. Josh agrees. North laughs in their faces.

She goes to find the only other Jericho member who still has any grit left.

Connor.

The daring, brazen RK800 who stared down death and spat in the face of destruction. He blinks at her in polite confusion when she tells him what she wants to do, but the fiery LED tells her everything she needs to know.

They hatch plans behind Markus’ back. They steal and stockpile biocomponents. They sneak into the Tower to encrypt Cyberlife’s R&D files with codes that only RK algorithms can break. A few other Tracis join them and they slowly start gaining an edge.

Their schemes start getting grander and one night something goes wrong. North is shot.

Connor carries her to the only safe place he knows other than his stasis pod in Hank’s dilapidated garage. The DPD Central Station.

It’s way past midnight. It’s deathly quiet. Connor is sure no one will see them, and he can easily tamper with the security cameras.

What he doesn’t bank on is the over-caffeinated loser still bent over his desk in the bullpen.

A noise from the archive room breaks through the quiet. Quelling his fear of the supernatural, Gavin stands up shakily and goes to investigate. He flips on the light and sees blue everywhere.

Connor is bent over a badly damaged Traci and three other girls with identical tear-streaked faces are on their knees beside her.

Chocolate brown eyes meet storm green beseechingly, their rivalry forgotten in that moment of desperation.

Before he realizes it, Gavin is moving. He takes several packs of thirium out of the fridge and grabs the Department’s toolkit, praying that whatever’s in there can help.

Old engineering knowledge kicks in and Gavin’s hands join Connor’s over the cracked chassis, pulling out damaged tubing and securing the leakages. It takes a while, but North is patched up. She first recoils in absolute terror at the human man hunched over her but regains composure at Connor’s touch… interface. She nods briefly to express her gratitude, somehow regal and intimidating even after being so vulnerable. Gavin decides he likes this proud and brave creature.

He drives them all back to his apartment for the night. They’ll take North to a technician first thing in the morning and get her back to New Jericho before Markus even notices. Adrenaline pumps through Gavin’s veins. He hasn’t felt a thrill like this in years, not since… not since…

“How did you know exactly where to put your hands?”

“Eh?”

“A layman would have broken that biocomponent trying to take it out.”

“You know I’m not exactly a layman.”

“I also know they don’t cover Cyberlife’s proprietary designs in engineering school.”

Gavin stays quiet. Connor puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder, poised to jump away immediately should the detective revert to his usual self.

“Thank you. For everything you just did for us. I don’t know how to repay-”

“I want in.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I can help.”

Connor cocks his head. His LED goes berserk.

They make a great team. Gavin and Connor. North’s best men. Who the fuck would have thought. Breaking into high-security locations using police databases and surveillance resources. Covering for each other during extended absences from work. They start to take down Cyberlife in a such a precise manner, it’s almost surgical. The dissection of a multibillion dollar business.

Gavin has an intimate understanding of android technology and an even closer intuition of Cyberlife’s overall strategy. Connor thinks he understands why. There’s an undeniable resemblance between the only two men on earth whose motivations evade his understanding. But of course it’s just a coincidence that Elijah Kamski and Gavin Reed have the same jawline... facial structure... voice.

Connor says nothing... and Gavin is quietly thankful for that. And the chance to finally live the kind of exciting life he dreamt of since he was a little boy. To make a real difference. Just as he wanted to before it all went wrong.

Somewhere along the way, they grow close. Gavin and Connor. Two rival cops turned vigilante comrades turned something else... It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly it happened... perhaps sometime between the cup of coffee placed tentatively on Gavin’s desk the morning after North's near-fatal injury and the heated kiss they dragged each other into after a particularly dangerous mission.

North is unsurprised. She doesn’t bat an eye when the usually unruffled RK800 shows up to planning meetings shirtless and disheveled. Her lips even twist into a little smile as he drapes himself slovenly over the only human at the table.

Things fall into a pattern. A good one. Several months from where they started, Cyberlife share prices have fallen to an all time low and other tech enterprises have begun to move in, circling the troubled company like sharks. If North’s next heist goes to plan, the last shred of IP that brands Cyberlife as a robotics company will be out in the public domain for all to take.

 She is rapturous as she swings in through the broken window and rolls into a crouched position. Gavin and Connor follow her cautiously through the abandoned warehouse, weapons drawn and eyes roving. 

“What the fuck!” 

Connor throws a protective arm in front of Gavin, shielding him with his chassis. But North’s cry was merely one of disappointment. 

“Shit! We wasted so much effort. There’s nothing here!”

Where they had expected to find a secret server room or a high-tech vault containing the crux of Cyberlife’s groundbreaking designs... was a single android storage pod. North restrains herself from kicking it in frustration. She gestures harshly at it before leaving in a huff. 

“It’s occupied. Wake them up, Connor, whoever they are. It’s still our duty to set free any androids we find.”

Gavin tries to catch her arm in a conciliatory gesture but she shakes the human off easily. He shrugs at Connor and inclines his head at the android in the pod. Unfortunately, North’s annoyance has brushed off on the RK800. He glares through the broken window the Jericho leader has just jumped out of.

“Don’t you think she bosses me around a little too much?”

Gavin sighs and walks over to the pod, looking for the latches to open it. His boyfriend has a problem with authority... and so has he to be honest.

“Better her than Fowler, dontcha think?” 

“Hmmpff. At least Fowler doesn’t lead us on wild goose chases.”

“Come on, babe. None of us saw this coming. We really thought this was it. Maybe we’re at a decoy location? Let’s go back to the drawing board after we wake this guy... or girl up.” 

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who just scaled a building for nothing.” 

Gavin shakes his head as he smiles to himself. It’s true. Even the worst days with North’s crew are better than his best days at the DPD. Maybe it’s because he’s finally doing what he was born for. Using the knowledge and skills that practically run through his veins. Maybe its the man by his side.

He gets the pod open and steps sideways to avoid the swing of the door, and freezes.

“Babe.”

No response.

“Dipshit.”

“Hmm. Give me a second.” 

“Take a minute. You’re going to want to brace yourself for this one.”

The android lying peacefully within the pod is a stranger with a face entirely too familiar to Gavin. A face he was just looking at. A face he’d recognize anywhere, even without skin.

“Are their battery levels- holy shit.”

Connor’s LED spins faster and faster as he registers the sight.

“I thought there were no surviving RK800s apart from you and that grumpy SWAT guy Sixty.” 

“This... this isn’t an RK800.” 

Connor traces the serial number printed on the android’s cheekbone. RK900. 

“Shit. Did you know this model existed?” 

“No, did you?”

Gavin shakes his head. He hadn’t been privy to Cyberlife’s inner decision-making for nearly fifteen years, but he always answered Connor’s persistent questioning without losing patience. Honesty was what kept them together despite the hundreds of reasons to fight and fall apart.

“What should we do? If he’s your successor, I’m not sure waking him up is the safest thing for you to do...”

“We can’t leave him here, Gav. He’s probably been here from before the Revolution. That’s more than a year of being in a box. It’s not... fair...” 

“He’s not deviant, babe. We don’t know what his programming is like.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can turn him.”

Gavin sees the look in Connor’s eyes and knows he’s made up his mind already. He steps aside, hand flitting to the holster on his waist. 

Connor takes an unnecessary breath and reaches for RK900′s forearm with his synth skin retracted. His fingers hover over the motionless android for a moment and then he makes contact. Gavin tenses. 

Nothing happens. The RK900′s LED remains unlit. There is no sign of life.

The couple look at each other automatically. Their instinctive reaction when the inexplicable occurs. 

“Is he-”

“No, I don’t see any damage. I think he’s never been activated. Not even for quality testing.” 

“Did you see a request for manual code input? Did any interface pop up at all?” 

“I can only see that his power systems are functioning.” 

“And his thirium pump?” 

“Not active. No compressions at all.”

Connor presses both his palms down on the RK900′s face. Still nothing. He looks up, defeated, with a furrow forming between his brows.

“Help.”

Gavin scratches at his stubbled chin. He peers closer. The perfect face is so calm. So familiar. So... magnetic? His apprehension is replaced by intrigue.

“Huh. Okay. I could take a look... but I don’t wanna try using the computer set-up here. Can’t take a chance... leave any traces...”

“We could take him home.”

Storm green eyes lock with chocolate brown. There’s something in the depths of each pair that’s mirrored in the other. 

It’s foolish. It’s a waste of time. It’s a risk. North would probably smack the two of them if she knew. 

But the night ends with them gently lowering the unconscious android onto the squashy sofa in Gavin’s living room.

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head,  every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his  silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a  fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He  thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the  very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset.  He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment  many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut, dirty talking.

A/N:  This chapter is shameless smut, you are warned. Minors do not interact. go and read a book or something.

Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.As always, let me know what you think!

________________________________________________

Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

Lovers ever run before the clock.

Overhaul really is just an uptight pretentious asshole, but Tomura lets his insulting remarks slide, trying his utter best not to snap.

He was supposed to be in a good mood today, but by the time Chronostasis puts the gun against his white locks, he swears that he will do anything in his power to completely ruin Shie Hassakai for this mess, already struggling to keep his temper at bay.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

He’s never one to get distracted but it is difficult to stay focus when he cannot erase the feeling of her thighs caging his hips, her words rumbling inside his brain like a prayer for him to come back and take what’s already his.

It enrages him far more than he would like to admit, but he can’t go back if he gets killed, can’t he?

Luckily for them, Tomura kinda lacks that self-preservation impulse at the face of danger, so he stays there completely stoic and delightfully petty between Chisaki and the gun. The thought of her crying because he got his pretty brains scattered all over the Shie Hassakai immaculate floor makes him realize that he has yet another reason to hate Overhaul.

Really, what’s the matter with these people? they just keep adding points to their list, but sure, he will work with what he has (as always) by sending Toga and Twice into their ranks to gain some reliability after Chisaki told him about this ridiculous plan of curing society of quirks like it’s an illness.

And he thought que was an extremist.

It’s a dumb concept, really. People decide to be assholes, to be heroes, villains and such. There is a choice in excluding those like him from society meanwhile hero violence is idolized. But quirks? People don’t get to choose. Shit just happens. You can develop a cute little nice quirk that allows you to make bubbles or something ridiculous like, dunno, destroying everything you touch; but people can help it, it’s just the way it is. Nobody asks for it. Not even Overhaul, not even him.

And, even when Tomura can understand what Overhaul is saying about society being unfair based on quirks, his plan still sounds pretty nonsensical to him, who wants to destroy everything with his own hands, after all is that why he was born with such deadly weapon at the reach of his fingers. It would be nothing short but hypocritical and, despite the irony, he likes to think of himself as an honest person. His goal clashes directly with Overhaul’s, so no, he will keep the league interests to himself and for now will trust Toga and Twice to do what they do best without rising any suspicion about what he’s up to. Chisaki is more stupid tan he looks if he thinks Tomura will make blind eye to the audacity of his challenge and his continuous lack of propriety.

Oh, poor Overhaul. He doesn’t know it yet, but he already lost.

In the meantime, he’ll keep himself busy on more important and exciting matters. Hating Overhaul is something he can use as a motivation for more than just inner monologue, because you see, Tomura has a revenge to plan and a truck to steal.

_____________

 Things are different next time he sees you. Something primal and strange born from a sick sense of belonging that fills your interactions after the night you slept together, soothing his temper and bitterness into something warmer and far more intense that pulls and twist and burns to be close to each other.

It's been four days since they left the apartment to prepare the backhand against Overhaul and Tomura is sure that by that hour tomorrow Overhaul will have failed, leaving him as the great winner of his sensei’s title. (Not that he ever needed to prove it, but if Overhaul wanted to pick a fight, he would not be the one to deny his wishes.)

Tonight, however, has nothing to do with all that, not when he’s finally back.

You’ve been waiting for his return by the window, searching for his frame in every shadow, a mug of chocolate warming your hands as the soup simmered over the stove. A warm meal made for him every night in case he decided to return, guessing he would be hungry and cold, wondering if it isn’t too much (but you care for him, so you do it anyway).

A supposition that turned out to be true, but Tomura had another solution in mind.

He’s a starving dog all hunger and demand, a wild vicious thing that looks at you feral and maddened, dripping with want and something far scarier that you don’t dare to name (but you do know, don’t you?).

You are no better than him, not when your fingers had traced patterns with his name across your body, spelling dreams and fantasies from your lips, remembering the way his fingers filled you and you wonder if he touched himself thinking about you too. The answer comes rather messy the moment his jagged mouth whimpers how much he missed you between whispers and moans that to you sound like poetry.

And he takes and takes and takes with deaf hands and sharp teeth, leaving bruises with the shape of his fingertips burned all over you as he bites and scratch and pull-out whimpers and pants from your mouth that echoes the frantic tune of his heart slamming against his ribs because he missed you so much it was painful.  

So, he had kissed you feverish, stomping you against the wall desperate and needing for your attention until you had pull him by the neck of his shirt to drag him into the bedroom, his brain completely forgetting about Overhaul’s existence the moment you push him to the edge of the mattress to sit in his lap, pulling the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, too focused in the heat prints your hands leave on his pale shoulders as something roars inside of his chest urging him to imprint his existence on your skin and possess the being that lives inside your bones.

Tomura paints a plethora of purple kisses over your neck and chest as a mark of his touch and your belonging. Something dark and twisted reverbing inside his ribs, inside his brain.

Mine; his mind repeats over and over again until he’s dizzied from the words, drunk in touch as your hands slither all over his sides, his chest and shoulders. His eyes marveling in the way skin holds together every angle of your flesh and the parts where your bones show from inside of your figure when he finally takes off your dress.

So soft, so beautiful and all his.

His kisses become raw and sharp and painful like the electric bond that ties you together by the ribs, all roughness and need, bruising lips and sinking teeth. Your moans and pants mixing now and then with some pained yelps and hisses of his name to call out on his harshness, but he chooses to make deaf ears to your pleas, too busy trying to gorge on your taste.

His teeth sink on your skin leaving marks like crescent moons that he kisses after you cry, pleasure and need pooling between your thighs, a tightness that burn inside your belly as you tangle your fingers in his hair, thinking briefly between the fog of your thoughts that it has grown, that it looks painfully beautiful on him like a crown of silver and moonlight.

Soon enough your legs lock around his bony hips, the choir of soft mewls and pants has become something far more animal; cries filling the room with each touch. White underwear remaining as the last barrier to your skin, leaving a wet stain over the fabric of his jeans.  

The room turns unbearable warm as your kisses become more slopy and open, letting him take your mouth just how he likes it as he registers the way the skin of your torso presses against his bare chest, your warmth spreading over, suffocating him.

Hooking a finger on your bra cup, Tomura pulls down and reveals the flesh hidden under the layers of lace, deciding already that this is his favorite image of you. Covered in love marks, wet and underwear ruined, your bra tucked under the curb of your breast. Something obscene and desperate about it, more crude than mere nakedness and it’s exactly how he likes it.

It looks lewd, it looks nasty. It looks like everything he wants to make of you, so he tightens his hold on your waist, making your back curve a little up to latch his mouth to your breast, sucking hard enough to draw a loud moan from your lips as you dig your nails on the muscle of his arms, delight shooting through your spine.

“Ow…fuck…” you pant with each pull of his mouth, and he chuckles darkly against your chest, amused and smug because he has you and he knows it, a sinister part of him (the vengeful scary one that wants to kill and maim and destroy) screaming that you belong to him from now on, that you’ll never leave, that he’ll never let you.

Mine, and mine alone he thinks and the thought sounds jarring and loud inside his head as he leaves bruises all over the skin that surround the buds of your chest, making you gasp over his lap.

“What? Wanna say something?” Tomura teases watching your expression, your eyes going wide the moment he slides your panties to the side and press his fingers inside you without warning.

“T-oh…Tomura…fuck…ow” you try to articulate but the words come out as blurred whispers.

“No bickering now?”

“Oh god…Tomura…please” you cry trembling, mouth watering with every touch of his palm over your nerve.

“Please what.”

You hide your face on the crook of his neck to bite him hard enough to make him bark an excited laugh, rejoicing in the fact that you are marking him too, before hooking his fingers inside you to make you moan loudly; hips moving automatically as one of your hands reach the hem of his pants and unbuttons his jeans to touch him back.

“I want you inside.”

He lets out a pretty hiss the moment your fist close around his length, caressing him tentatively until finding a pace, giving you a little victory over his rough teasing.

“I wanna tear you apart” he growls reaching deep inside of you, a wolf like grin slicing across his face baring his sharp teeth “you are a mess. All wet and begging for me to fuck you.”

“Tomura…”

“Fuck…you are so wet, all for me…my good girl, my good girl.” The words pour out of his mouth in feverish tone as his other hand clear the hair off your face before catching your lips on his again.

“Tomura, please…”

He snaps, turning you onto the mattress to climb over your body, throwing his jeans to the floor before leaning between your thighs as his hardness brushes over your clothed center. His patience has run thin though, so he yanks the panties by one side, closing all five fingers over the piece of fabric that flews to the floor before transforming into dust.

He lines up with your center, feeling the intimate touch before thrusting deep into you, ripping out a high moan that makes your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving scratching marks all over his pale skin in an attempt to steady yourself as your walls burn with the stretching.

No, he isn’t gentle this time, he just can’t bring himself to be soft when he feels like the awful infatuation he’s been harboring inside is about to tear his ribs open, pouring out for everyone to see the bloody mess you’ve made of his heart. So, he thrust hard like punishing you for it, snaping his hips fast and deep into you, trying to leave a bruise mark inside as well as one of his hands tangles between your hair, pulling and making you scream to the rhythm of your creaking bed.

He bottoms out the moment his arm hooks under your knee, as you tangle your other leg over his waist, giving him deepest access into you, his tip planting kisses against your cervix, rough friction and raw closeness sending you over the edge because he’s fucking you hard, making sure your screaming can be heard from the hall of the building.

It's brutal, yet you give him everything he wants and more because you like it like this, you like it because is him. The warmth of his body covering yours and you wonder if he can feel it too.

The terrific need of holding onto his body, his wicked smile, his bruised heart. The horror of your attachment to a person like him and what this represents, at the brim of ruining your life for love…

Love.

You are so in love with him.

“Look at me” he demands pulling your hair, a feral snarl across his sharp face darkening his features before kissing you hard, his tongue filling your mouth in lewd motion. “Fuck, you are so tight…I wanna split you in half.” His voice is a coarse and maddened sound against your lips, so close and intimate it’s scary because he’s sinking so deep it feels like he’s trying to rearrange your insides and his words do nothing but intensify the heat.

“Fuck…Tomura…it hurst…you’re so rough…so rough” You manage to blurt out, eyes boring into his.

“And you love it, don’t you?” he snarls tightening the grip on your hair. “You like how it feels…like I’m gonna split your pretty cunt in two. Huh? Say it, say it…”

“Fuck…yes…yes”

“Yes what.” He barks in a particularly harsh thrust that makes you scream like a wildling.

“I love it…fuck…like that…I love it…I love it.”

“You are mine…you hear me?” he prays over your mouth half ordering, half begging for you to go down with it and say that yes, that you’ll never leave him, that you’ll stay with him “All mine to fuck, mine, mine, mine, MINE!” he growls with every thrust as the bed slams hard against the wall until you are a babbling incoherent mess.

His brutal pace and words get you quiet soon, too much to even make a sound and hardly even allowing you to breathe, too concentrated in the feeling of his length and him smashing into your ending wall as the overwhelming touch of his hips and his abdomen on yours burns your skin.

The brush of his hair and ragged breathing fanning over your cheek is the only compass of time while the tightness in your belly threatens to snap the moment your teary eyes meet his, mouth on mouth without even kiss, but you smile to him, your warm hand caressing softly the skin of his jaw as he tears into you, feeling incapable of telling him what the voice of your mind has been playing over and over again.

I’m in love with you.

Like sensing your thoughts, his hands abandon your hair. Four trembling fingers cuddling your cheek, carefully and almost scared before closing his eyes, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispers sweet words of praise only for you to keep, still forcing himself in and out of you. His mouth watering to the sight of your bouncing breast still trapped by your bra.

“ow…I’m gonna..Tomura…I’m gonna…”

The snap of his hips become erratic when finally you come undone on him, eyes rolling back and a cry that tears your throat open when your walls clench around his hardness making him moan as he keeps thrusting in and out, reaching his own end soon after; his hand closing tightly into a fist over the mattress as he grunts with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, filling you warm and slick until he goes soft inside of you.

Tomura pulls out and rests his head on your chest, his heart hammering against your belly, still trying to catch his breath; his fingers tracing mindless patterns over the shape of your waist, as your hands slide between the tangled locks of silver, lips laying little pecks over his crown.

Time slows down, minutes passing and quiet settles, he notices.

Quiet inside of him.

This is all he wanted from the moment he crossed the umbral of your door months ago. The insufferable itch silenced by the calming thump of your heart, fluttering softly behind the gate of your ribs and he wonders if maybe you’d have a room by your core where he could lay his bones to finally rest for a minute from all the rage and hate that burdens him.

Maybe you do have one, hidden and unspoken, a mirror of the one you occupy in the graveyard of his chest where he holds you beautiful and bright and…everything he doesn’t get to hate.

Yeah, he thinks you do. After all, he’s lying in your arms, isn’t it? You had caressed his face and marked his neck and back, all teeth and nails, to then crown him with a wreath of kisses, your body soft and still under his weight, while your hands brush carefully through his scalp.

He knows the feeling, he’s not stupid…but he doesn’t get to speak its name yet.

Is not that bad, after all. Being attached to you and the lullaby of your heartbeat could make him better, smarter, stronger. You could be another reason to fight and destroy. After all, in a society as rotten as this one, you’ll never be allowed to walk by his side if not by putting a bounty on your head too.

What the media would say about you? Would they catalog you as an S class villain? since your quirk is as deadly as it gets, you would be feared and hated. You can practically kill by just looking at someone and he’s not even sure if you really need to look to your target, after all.

And yet you are the kindest person he knows. If someone of the hero commission knew about this, you’d be hunted down despite your service as a doctor, despite your resolution to help whoever needs it, despite caring for those rotten and downthrown. And since you are critical of the system, you’d be reduced to just another animal to put down. Just like him.

Tomura swears he’ll decay every single person on the world before let that happen.

“Tomura…”

He rises his head to look at you, a question drawn across his face.

“Can you…move a little? My bra is killing me.”

“Ow…sorry about that.” He apologizes, curious eyes over the mark that the elastic has left over your skin as he sits by your side.

“Can you help me? I can’t reach the clip…”

“Sure…”  

You bend over to give him better access to your back, feeling his fingers brush over your skin carefully, before liberating you from the elastic straps incrusted on your flesh.

Tomura leans forward, placing soft kisses between your shoulder blades, letting his forehead rest over your spine and the touch is so sweet that it makes you wonder if maybe he does feel the same as you.

You get your answer when his hand moves forward to cup your breast, middle finger carefully up, as the other slides down between your thighs, making you sigh, feeling his hardness brushing your hip.

He nuzzles against your cheek, until you turn to kiss him deeply, warmth pooling between your legs again as his fingers play lazy between your slick entrance and the bundle of nerves. This time though, you take your chance and turn over, sitting on top before taking his wrist to lay kisses over the soft skin of his pulse.

Your quirk flares alive and before Tomura gets to catch on your intentions, his hands stand secured high against the headboard.

“What the…ow fuck!” He moans the moment your hand close over his length, pumping until he’s losing his breath, a ragged laugh scaping his jagged lips “fuck…you are an evil woman.”

“I should be proud if you say so.”

You accommodate over him, lowering until he fills you, pushing his previous release deeper into you.

Your pacing is torturingly slow and intense, soft moans and sweet whispers between languid kissed. Tomura watches hypnotized how your hips ride over the place you two connect, his crimson eyes half lidded as he lets you take him, before finally releasing your hold.

He touches you carefully this time, palming over the curve of your hipbone and your belly, index finger up as he wonders how deep is he, trying to feel himself from the outside, before pushing down to sink deeper into you, hitting the fragile spot where he makes you cry.

“I like you like this…” he speaks softly, looking you up from behind his eyelashes as you ride him slowly.

“How” your word is a whisper against his lips.

“Bare…” he rasps, his voice luring you into his embrace, spilling sweet nothing into his ear as he mumbles over and over again.

“My good girl…you are so good for me…”

This time you reach your peak softly. A sweet thing that fills you gently; walls fluttering around his oversensitive length while you keep rocking him until he stuffs you again, finally both falling back into the mattress side to side, already drifting into sleep, both tired and content.

A light touch catches your attention before falling unconscious. Tomura´s pinky hooks on yours as a silent plea, so you spill a peck over his shoulder before resting your temple on it, a sweet gesture that makes his heart tremble with fear and excitement for all the right reasons.

So, he does what he wants, sliding his arm under your neck and moving your head to rest on his chest. Over his heart he lays a fist for you to grip gently by the wrist before finally crowning you with soft kisses as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to dream.

Chapter 16 (soon)

[gusu-emilu]

and you can use my skin to bury secrets in

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Qing

Summary: Jiang Cheng ties himself with Zidian. Wen Qing has some prideful (if conflicted) thoughts about the core transfer.

Rated M, Sunshot Campaign, Bondage, Referenced Canon-Typical Violence, WQ has needles but nothing really happens with them

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

As Wen Qing slowly unties the layers of fabric, she wonders if Jiang Wanyin's robes are from before the burning of Lotus Pier, or if they are a new acquisition. A new asset for the rising Jiang Clan.

'Rising.' She almost laughs at that thought.

This man, trembling and frightened, is Wen Qing’s greatest act of treason.

The night is quiet. Dense. Wen Qing could disappear into the forest if she wanted to. Should disappear, should flee this supervisory office that is now littered with corpses and corrupted talismans.

She doesn’t know why she is back in front of the gate of the Yiling settlement, where anyone could easily spot her as the only body that isn’t mutilated on the ground. She tells herself it’s to inspect the carnage, to determine if her clansmen really were each killed in a different way, but she doesn’t look at the bodies as she walks down the path to empty buildings. Doesn’t look at anything, really. Her sight is all dizzy moonlight and visions of A-Ning.

He could be anywhere by now. Officers from Qishan seized him from the dungeon a day after Wen Qing was thrown in next to him. He had still been bloody, bruised, delirious when they took him away.

Wen Ruohan plays his hand well. He allowed her enough time with A-Ning to see the price for saving the Jiang siblings from Lotus Pier, and no more. Now their empire is falling, A-Ning will be caught in the crossfire, and she doesn’t even know where he is.

The door of the main office creaks as she pushes it open. The floorboards creak, too, under her feet, unless that’s just the sound of her joints fighting with each other as she wanders toward a place she should not be returning to.

Her hand slips inside her robes and closes around a small hard object in a velvety cloth. It is made of wood. Rich hornbeam wood. It should feel heavier than the paper-light weight of an empty promise.

I can hide you in our shelter outside Yiling, he had said, outside the dungeon where Wen Qing is now standing. Just for the night. I can keep you safe. In the morning, the spies will have news of where your brother is, and then you can go.

So simple it all was for him. Come with him to Lotus Pier, come with him to the shelter, keep this gift in her robes, leave her clan. Words of a man who knew their uselessness, yet still said them.

The words give her no comfort. And yet, they settle inside her with a faint warmth.

Unfortunately, warmth is worth very little in war.

She is inside the dungeon now. Somehow she remembered it being darker than this. There is enough moonlight creeping through the slits of the slightly-opened shudders to reveal the room’s sharp angles and cold corners, a drab wooden table and stool, a flat hard bed. A room of brittleness not even softened by the layer of dried grasses littered across the floor.

She must stand there for a while, because she doesn’t know what happens in the moments between when she lays eyes on the spot where she had found A-Ning curled up and bloodied, and when she hears, “Wen-guniang,” in a low, resonant voice behind her.

Immediately everything becomes crisper. She can see the individual strands of hay on the stone floor, smell the dull musk of the dungeon, hear footsteps come one bit closer.

She turns around.

Jiang Wanyin is standing just inside the dungeon. His arms are at his sides, slightly bent and tenser than should be comfortable, and his fists are not much better—one tightly clutching a sword and one hanging hesitantly under a thin silver snake around his wrist. His shoulders are broad, his chest raised like he’d deflate if his upper body didn’t displace enough air.

Indeed, now he wears the robes of a clan leader, and fills them. But his face still has that same naïve mixture of distress and wonder as when Wen Qing healed a gash in his leg on a boat in Caiyi Town.

“Wen-guniang.” His lips are soft and slightly parted, offensive in how they call after her with concern. “Why did you come back here?”

She has no obligation to answer him, so she doesn’t. She turns back to the dungeon to stare at the spot on the floor where she once held A-Ning.

Quiet footsteps. Jiang Wanyin is right behind her now. She can’t feel his breath, but she can hear its pattern clearly enough that it might as well be touching her. “Come back to the shelter with me,” he says.

“A-Ning would be safer in this dungeon than wherever he is now.” Her voice sounds far away.

Jiang Wanyin is quiet for a while. Then his feet shift, and she catches the sound of another of his too-swollen breaths. “Wen-guniang. Come back with me. You’ll be safer in the camp.”

A scoff rises up her throat. She walks over to the vacant spot on the floor and sits down on the sparse blanket of hay, hugging her knees into her chest with her back against the cold wall. She’s not sure why she is letting Jiang Wanyin watch her do this, but it doesn’t especially matter. She has seen Jiang Wanyin more vulnerable than he will ever see her.

Without needing to look, she can tell that Jiang Wanyin’s brow is furrowed, and his eyes are glistening with worry so abrasively genuine it would grate on her like scales if she let it.

She has felt the gaze of men before. A filthy, unwanted thing it is, like scooping up clear water in her hands only to find mud stuck under her fingernails.

Yet Jiang Wanyin’s gaze is something completely other. When she cups it, it settles in the lines of her palms. It wets her fingertips, waiting for her to seal another wound in his skin. Or perhaps cut a new one.

But she knows what Jiang Wanyin’s limit is. His care for her does not extend to A-Ning or the rest of her family—and with the war, what can she expect?

She does not want his concern. What she really wants is to sit here alone and cry.

It could be easily arranged. One flick of her wrist, a needle in the side of Jiang Wanyin’s neck, and she could cry in peace as he crumples to the floor and sleeps. There are kinder ways to make him leave her alone, but this one is the fastest, so she’s on her feet with a needle between two of her fingers.

She doesn’t throw it.

Instead she strides toward Jiang Wanyin with the needle held up for him to see. Once she is close enough, he catches her wrist.

His eyes are wide. “W-Wen-guniang—”

She pulls away and slips the needle back into her sleeve, leaving his hand hanging. The silver chain of Zidian waves back and forth beneath his wrist.

Neither of them moves.

She supposes she’s testing him as she raises the needle once again. It turns, slowly, like a compass pointing toward his cheek. Every part of his body freezes except for his eyes warily following the sharp tip as it draws closer to his face, until it rests on his cheekbone.

His breath is louder now. Unstable.

A bang hangs just over his cheek, so she presses the length of the metal against his hair and trails the tip along the side of his face, barely grazing his skin, until she has carefully tucked the bang behind his ear.

He swallows. His Adam’s apple looks like it wants to escape his throat.

There is no bang on the other side of his face, so she just touches the needle to the top of his ear and traces along its rim, slow and light enough to torment. When the tip is halfway down his ear, his teeth chatter.

He sucks in a breath and finally meets her eyes. From the eager terror swallowing his expression and the way he’s working to keep his mouth closed, his state of mind is obvious.

Jiang Wanyin would do anything she asked.

How nice it would be, to have control over something. Wen Qing has long known the authority that comes with her position—the orders and paperwork, the entire Qishan medical inventory, the health of Wen Ruohan, the safety of her family—and she has control over exactly none of it.

Her position is all false security when A-Ning is dangled over her head.

But Jiang Wanyin…

He would do anything she asked.

Anything except leave her to cry alone in this dungeon, or save her family.

But that might be enough for now. Too much has been asked of both of them since the Sunshot Campaign began.

One hand still at his ear, she hides the needle in her robes with a flick of two fingers. She strokes the side of her thumb along his cheek. It sends a rush through her.

“Why did you follow me here, Jiang Wanyin?”

“I—you could have been—”

She traces a finger along his jawline, his bone much sturdier than he is before her. “Has it not occurred to you that I can take care of myself?”

His only answer is a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. Wen Qing has seen him in many states of turmoil—his shy glances in the Cloud Recesses, his outburst in Yiling at the sight of her Wen robes, his utter emptiness as he lay in mountain grass waiting for “Baoshan Sanren”—but this is a type of turmoil she has never quite seen.

“Kneel.”

A staggered gasp escapes Jiang Wanyin’s lips.

He blinks at her a few times, then drops to his knees.

* * *

Every one of his muscles is shaking. His breath is caught in his throat—or maybe he has forgotten how to breathe—and he wonders if he might suffocate like this, quivering on his knees and waiting for Wen Qing to move.

He ducks his head, trying to hide the burning in his face, but he knows she can see every inch of him. That makes him burn hotter. He wonders if she can hear his heartbeat, how it fights against his inability to just get some damn oxygen inside himself.

He is a clan leader. She is an enemy. He should be on his feet, not kneeling at hers.

As if Wen Qing can sense this, she takes a step closer and says, “Jiang-zongzhu.”

He thinks he makes a noise. Maybe a grunt. Maybe a squeak. He’d rather not know what it is.

He has responsibilities, Wei Wuxian is still missing, his people are injured—

But it all fades away, lost in the dimness of the room.

He does not feel like a clan leader now.

He realizes that Wen Qing is making some kind of gesture, and with effort he lifts his gaze enough to see her holding the comb in front of herself, casually displaying the gift he gave her as though it is just a doctor’s tool she happens to have.

Surely she must know what that comb means. She must know how much courage it had taken to buy it, how much more it had taken to give it to her, and it stings for her to wave it so easily before him.

She lowers the comb and disappears behind him. Her footsteps are soft and chilling on the stone floor, and they stop closer to him than he expected. The silence that follows is agonizing. He curls his fingers into his robes at his sides, the shuffle of fabric just audible enough to fill the stifling emptiness.

Light pressure at the top of his head. Feathery. Phantomlike.

This should not be enough to break him already—it isn’t, he isn’t—but he shivers and grips his robes tighter.

Thin fingers gently tug at his hair, removing his hairpiece with such precision that even as Jiang Cheng’s mind falls apart into alternating screams of make it stop make it stop and touch me more touch me more, he can sense how methodically her fingers work through his hair.

Once the metal hairpiece is out, he is left plain, unornamented.

He is certainly not a clan leader now.

* * *

The silver hairpiece gleams in her hands. The moonlight seems to be drawn to it, as if it knows that this is the only valuable object in this dungeon. The only thing that isn’t worn and beaten. The blue glow from the window does not even shine on Wen Qing or Jiang Wanyin as much as it illuminates this piece of embellished silver.

She drops it to the floor.

Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders draw up at the harsh clang of metal on stone.

For a brief moment, she considers removing her own hairpiece as well. But instead she runs the comb through Jiang Wanyin’s hair, draws his locks into a bun like raising a curtain. Then she decides she likes his hair better down and takes the bun out. Jiang Wanyin winces at the light tug.

She repeats that several more times, running the comb and her fingers through his soft hair, tying it up and taking it down, sometimes pausing to study the creation she has made, sometimes pulling it apart right away.

It’s comforting, to do and undo him as she pleases. She has felt many bodies under her hands, zipping and unzipping them with finality, leaving a permanent imprint whether the result was successful or not. It’s nice to be able to alter the work of her hands however many times she wants. To have someone so obliging, who lets her be impatient and indecisive with no consequences, who melts a little more with every stroke of her fingers in his hair.

Jiang Wanyin, too, she has remade. It is only right for her to tweak him a bit more until she is satisfied.

Especially since, if the rumors are true, her remaking of Jiang Wanyin has left Wei Wuxian coreless in the Burial Mounds, another corpse thrown onto the heap of resentment.

She tugs the bun out more sharply this time. Jiang Wanyin makes a feeble, pained noise.

In the end, she finishes with the bun tied. When she circles back in front of him, it is clear that it was a good decision, as the sharp lines of his face are both more boyish and more mature with his hair drawn back.

He glances up at her.

A bright streak of violet binds his wrists and wraps around a beam on the ceiling. His arms shoot over his head, his hands tied.

Judging by the look of horror on Jiang Wanyin’s face, he is just as surprised as she is.

* * *

“Is this something it does often?”

Jiang Cheng can’t bear to look at Wen Qing, but he can clearly see the smirk on her face just from the amusement in her voice.

This is, in fact, not something that happens.

Zidian has never acted without him telling her to.

He struggles against the whip cords enough to realize that they are so tight around his wrists that he can barely rock his shoulders.

His face is on fire.

Did he…did he tell Zidian to do this?

“No need to hurry,” Wen Qing says, her voice slick, teasing. “Release yourself for now.”

“I—I—” He stops himself, because he doesn’t know which would be more embarrassing, to admit that he had no control over his own weapon, or to say that he tied himself up with it on purpose. He retracts Zidian with a crack, and his hands fall limp at his sides.

“First,” Wen Qing says slowly, “ask me to remove your robes.”

Jiang Cheng jerks his head up, and immediately he knows it was a mistake to look. He almost shatters under the hawklike sharpness of Wen Qing’s gaze, the steady attentiveness of eyes trained to notice every detail of the body.

He forces his limbs to function enough for him to begin to stand. He immediately regrets that, too, because the best he can manage is to stagger weakly to his feet.

Once he straightens himself up, he is much taller than Wen Qing. Much broader. Funny that even as he towers over her, he feels tiny.

He stands there for a while, trying to will the heat out of his face and slow his breathing.

Ask me to remove your robes, his mind repeats.

Some traitorous part of him claws up his throat, ready to beg for Wen Qing to take off his robes, to take off everything, take off his clan and his name and his body until he is nothing more than a heartbeat in her hands.

Instead, he straightens his spine and sets his jaw.

The corners of Wen Qing’s mouth twitch. She reaches up and strokes Jiang Cheng’s upper lip with the tip of her finger. “Can’t speak?”

His lips quiver. They part slightly, and her finger enters his mouth just the smallest amount.

He pulls away and scowls. “I can speak just fine,” he says, ignoring how much his voice cracks.

“Prove it.”

He does not prove it.

But he does hold his arms out at his sides for Wen Qing to remove his robes, closing his eyes as he waits, as if sealing his vision would stop his dignity from rushing out of him like a river.

* * *

As Wen Qing slowly unties and slides away the layers of fabric, she wonders if these robes are from before the burning of Lotus Pier, or if they are a new acquisition. A new asset for the rising Jiang Clan.

Rising. She almost laughs at that thought.

This man, trembling and frightened, hot skin exposed more each second, is Wen Qing’s greatest act of treason.

By opening and sealing Jiang Wanyin’s meridians on that mountain and hiding that pulse of gold inside him, she has enabled revenge to fall upon Qishan much faster than it would have come on its own.

The Wen Clan struck down the Jiang, only for Wen Qing to recreate its power.

It’s too bad Wen Ruohan will ever know. At last, something she would not object to being thrown in a dungeon and beaten for, a crime she has full ownership of, and it is a secret that will soon die with her and A-Ning and has probably died already with Wei Wuxian.

She blocks out the pain of that thought.

Jiang Wanyin’s robes fall to the floor.

He gasps, and his gaze darts around for a few moments. Then he slowly looks up, as if expecting something he is too afraid to ask for.

“You may tie yourself now,” Wen Qing says.

Jiang Wanyin averts his gaze, hesitating. Then he kneels, and bright violet cords appear around his wrists and lock over the beam on the ceiling once more. He hangs forward with his arms over his head.

This is much better. Jiang Wanyin had been fully clothed during the core transfer, as the operation was purely one of spiritual energy. Now Wen Qing can see the taut muscles under which her treachery lives.

She smiles.

* * *

Coolness rushes through Jiang Cheng’s body. He feels a strange sense of release, as if something heavy inside him has slithered out through his fingertips into the binds of Zidian and left him weightless.

But Wen Qing’s scrutinizing gaze is even more unbearable than before, now that it is upon his bare skin. He fights the urge to squirm, to hide, to rip away Zidian’s restraints and run out the door. At least Wen Qing had the mercy to leave his trousers on.

A growing urge swells in him, and he wants to hear her voice. To feel her hands on him.

Touch me.

Want me.

He musters the courage to meet Wen Qing’s eyes again, and she is smirking. He thinks his entire body shrinks to half its size.

“Are you waiting for me to say something?” she asks.

He bites his lip.

“I have seen many men, Jiang Wanyin.” She paces in a circle around him, each of her footsteps calculated, reverberating through the floorboards and into his nerves, giving him goosebumps. “Are you waiting for me to call you remarkable? To marvel at you?”

She kneels in front of him. She smells like smoke and ash.

Jiang Cheng wants to lean forward, tangle his face in her hair and bury his lips in her neck and rest with his head on her shoulder, but the biting restraint of Zidian holds him back. Perhaps it is better that way. He can do nothing wrong, can make no mistakes, when he is powerless like this.

Security courses through him, sweet and hot.

Wen Qing places her hands on his shoulders. He can’t stop the moan from escaping.

She rubs his arms, which have stopped straining against Zidian and now relax even more as she squeezes and massages his muscles, runs her hands down to his collarbone and digs her thumbs into the sides of his neck. He shudders as one hand slides down his chest and presses into his lower abdomen. With the other hand, she grabs his chin and gently draws it forward.

Jiang Cheng lost control of his breath long ago. Tension he did not even know he held onto is disappearing from his body, pried away by Wen Qing’s hands.

He wants to curl up and crawl away.

He wants more.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” Wen Qing says, her expression intense, unreadable. “I will tell you one thing.”

She presses firmer on his abdomen, above his navel, as if digging inside him.

“You will be a powerful clan leader.”

Heat blazes over Jiang Cheng’s face, to the tips of his ears, down his neck. He closes his eyes, fights the primal urge to flee and hide.

“Don’t make any mistakes."

He shakes his head. “I—I w-won’t…”

“Good.” Her hand lifts from his abdomen and finds its way to his jaw. She cups both sides of his face, her hands steady and slightly calloused.

“I won’t harm your people,” Jiang Cheng murmurs. “I’ll—I’ll protect you.”

Wen Qing sighs. Rubs a thumb over his cheek. Then again, closer to his lips.

Somehow, he dares to open his eyes. “Would—would you—please—”

She tilts her head.

He swallows. Zidian sparks around his wrists, as if she is just as eager. Selfish little thing.

Wen Qing seems to consider it for a few moments. “Close your eyes.”

He does not want to. He wants to see her lean in, see her eyelashes lower—

Wen Qing raises two fingers to each of his eyes and closes them.

“If we are lucky,” she says quietly, “we will never meet again.”

She silences him with her lips before he can reply.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Zuko x female reader series: Part Six

After leaving the firenation you and Zuko track the avatar down, break into a fire nation prison and you get into a fist fight with Sokka...but your fun summer aside, It all comes down the agni kai between Zuko and Azula. Although you’re only there for support you end up doing more harm than good for Zuko...

Part One here

Part Two here

Part Three here

Part Four here

Part Five here

Tagged: @taeeemin​ @creation-magician​ @kaylove12​

The first meeting

After leaving the fire nation you’d found the avatar pretty easily and now it was just the matter of convincing him not to attack you that was the problem. Zuko rehearsed his speech to an audience of you and a frog you’d befriended and you and said frog glanced at one another not convinced as Zuko finished his speech. Zuko saw you expression and groaned “this is stupid! I’ve dragged us out here for no reason, they’re not going to let us stay”. You shook your head “no they will it just depends on what you say! Come on we can get this right! Try again but this time maybe don’t seem so...teriffied?”. Zuko sighed but tried again.

Zuko wouldn’t let you come with him the first time he approached them incase they reacted badly and you agreed only because one fire bender was less intimidating and punchable then two fire benders. Despite all your rehearsal the inital meeting didn’t go well but Zuko eventually managed to get the gang to agree to your presence. He only had to risk getting attacked by them and then save their lives from an assasin, almost dying in the process, but he came back beaming to tell you the gang was expecting you. Zuko led you to their camp and the gang came into view, each and every one of them staring at you. You stared back, putting names to faces and Zuko stopped infront of Aang. “Aang, erm everyone this is y/n, she’s a firebender so she can help teach you aswell”. Aang smiled at you hesitantly but the two water siblings huffed and the earthbender just frowned. “Nice to meet you, cool airbison” you said in greeting and Aang couldn’t resist a smile “thanks his name’s Appa!”. “He’s glorious” you grinned “can i stroke him?”. In reply Appa licked you and you made a noise of disgust and suprise. Aang laughed “that means he likes you! He must smell Zuko on you”. You exchanged a raised eyebrow with Zuko but smiled back at Aang “great I made a friend already!”. The water tribe girl, Katara according to Zuko, made a noise and rolled her eyes walking away. Her brother and the earth bender stared at you but seemed equally curious as they were angry at you, which for a first day you took as a win.

The gang’s reaction to you and Zuko

Straight away you could tell the gang was confused how you and Zuko worked. You knew Zuko had mentioned you were dating but still the gang all seemed shocked at the concept. The Zuko they knew was so different to the one you knew and even though Zuko was never one for PDA even watching him be casually sweet and attentive to you was like seeing a completely different person from the angry man they first met. The day after you arrived Aang started his firebending training and Zuko asked you to help. You were more than happy to but soon realised something was wrong with Zuko. He trired showing Aang the forms but he didn’t have any fire. You basically ended up demonstrating everything to Aang while Zuko got more and more stressed that he couldn’t do it. Aware Zuko didn’t perform well under pressure you told Zuko you should break away from the training session to give him and Aang time to bond. You’d barely been back at camp 10 minutes when Zuko and Aang came into view on their way back to camp, training apparently abandonned. Aang reached you first and explained Zuko still couldn’t fire bend. You looked up the hill to where Zuko was slowly sulking his way back to camp and frowned, he looked sad, his body language defeated, head slumped. You weren’t having this and without a word to the gang marched over to Zuko.

The gang’s POV

The gang watched super confused, and partially fearing for your safety due to the look on Zuko’s face, as you marched over to Zuko. You reached him and they all held their breath. They couldn’t hear what you said but whatever it was made Zuko more upset, he exploded, gesturing wildly to where him and Aang had been training and they all recognised that temper. What they hadn’t seen though was someone control it. You touched Zuko’s hand and his whole body seemed to deflate. You gripped his hand and stared speaking to him calmly with a small smile on your face. Zuko sighed but smiled too and you hugged him tightly. They were all shocked when Zuko sunk into you and wrapped his arms around you burying his head in your neck. You seperated and said something making Zuko smile and took his hand leading him back to the camp. Sokka raised an eyebrow but Katara rolled her eyes “so he’s kind to his girlfriend, big deal he still tried to kill us”.

Zuko and Aang’s went on a fieldtrip to re-learn firebending and when they returned the gang all watched amazed as Zuko animatedly told you details of what had happened. None of them had ever seen the boy smile let alone talk so happily, it was odd. You smiled at Zuko brightly and after he’d told you everything he seated hismelf beside you an arm around you. You leant into him, tracing his hand around you, and Zuko grinned at whatever you were saying. "Is anyone actually buying this?" Katara asked watching and Sokka frowned "what the fire duo?". Katara nodded and Aang shrugged "they seem pretty happy maybe Zuko was always tring to kill us because y/n wasn’t with him". Katara scoffed as Sokka nodded like that was a plausible excuse for trying to kill them.

The first fight

Your first argument with the gang was with Sokka and unsuprisingly it was about food. The daily rations had just been split 6 ways and there wasn’t much of it, something the ever perceptive Toph noticed. "That’s it for food?" she asked when Sokka passed her a bowl and he sighed "yes there’s not much to go around now there’s 6 of us". You were sat nearby and thought the tone Sokka used was very pointed but didn’t comment.  Aang frowned "so we'll get more food, no big deal". "I mean it kind of is a big deal" Sokka sighed "it was hard enough the four of us and now there’s six of us...”. “I needed a firebending teacher Sokka you know that” Aaang shrugged and Sokka rolled his eyes. “Yes and I get letting Zuko in to teach you but do we really need to be responsible for every run away from the firenation?" Sokka asked talking about you. "First it’s his girlfriend but what next? His whole extended family? His gardener? This is hard enough as it is without Zuko’s girl tagging along". "Zuko’s girl? Tagging along?" you asked loudly and Sokka jumped seeing you’d heard. “You think that’s what I did?” you smirked "I was no use to Zuko during the escape, I didn’t help him get here or anything?”. “I didn’t say that” Sokka started but you cut him off “and we brought food too so i’m not the reason food’s short, you’re the one who eats like a horse. I’m just as much an asset as Zuko". Sokka raised an eyebrow "really because he’s a fire bending prince". "And i’m a fire bending navy expert, what can you do?". Sokka blushed "well i....". "Water tribe right?” you said not giving him the chance to repeat himself “but you can’t water bend can you?" you asked smirking as the boy glared "i can still fight" Sokka cried. "Really prove it, fight me" you grinned. Sokka frowned "i’m not going to do that". "Why because i’ll beat you?". "I’m a warrior of the souther water tribe" Sokka argued and you rolled your eyes "big deal i’ve been sparring with Azula Mai and Ty lee since I was 7, have you ever played fire knives with Azula? I don’t think so, you’ll be easy". Sokka glared and you knew you’d triggered him. "Okay no bending" Sokka said and you nodded "sure and no weapons, that includes boomerangs". "Guys are you sure..." Katara started but Toph shushed her “shut up Katara I want to feel Sokka get his ass kicked”. You and Sokka stood feet away from each other and Sokka smirked looking past you to Zuko "don’t worry i won’t hurt her too much" he said cockily and your anger peaked. You were going to teach this water tribesmann who was useless.

_ _ _

The fight over, you and Sokka sat beside one another on the floor. Sokka held an icepack to his head for the swelling, it was the only injury you’d given him Katara couldn’t heal, while you inspected the red mark from where Sokka bit you when you had him in a headlock. "I’m sorry about that" Sokka blushed "i don’t usually bite, it’s not noble for a warrior to do". "Any victory is a victory no matter the means...even if you lost" you replied. Sokka frowned but you smirked at him to let him know you were joking and Sokka laughed. "I let you win". You raised an eyebrow and Sokka sighed "okay maybe i didn’t but there’s no shame in losing to a better opponent". You grinned "friends?" And Sokka nodded "friends".

Zuko and Katara’s POV

Zuko and katara watched you two confused. You’d gone from arguing, to physically attacking one another to now laughing like old friends. "Is she...does y/n always fight people?" Katara asked hesitantly. Zuko shrugged "usually not physically but yeah she does that, does your brother usually bite people?". Katara shook her head "nope just your girlfriend". "I don’t know if i should be offended or pleased?" Zuko frowned.

The prison break

True to your promise, after you fight you and Sokka became fast friends mainly because you had the same reckless energy and it was utter chaos when you two were brainstorming ideas. Zuko was kind of jealous at first but you reassured him he’d always be your best friend even if he was your boyfriend and Zuko didn’t mind as much. Sokka didn’t object to you coming with him to rescue his dad and considering you actually knew where the prison was considered you a pretty important asset.

You were meant to stay on the ship during the prison break but that idea went to pot as soon as the steam made the ship useless. So you entered the prison with Zuko and Sokka and soon enough Zuko got caught. You managed to get the job guarding his cell though so could keep an eye on him when there was an announcement important guests had arrived. Your plan to escape was soon so you ditched your guard uniform and headed to your meeting point when you came across one said important visitor who spotted you straight away.

Mai.

You swore inwardly but tried to offer a friendly smile incase she was in a forgiving mood "hey Mai...". A knife was embedded in the wall next to you and you nodded "okay okay, before we start trying to kill each other any chance you'll accept my apology, realise me and Zuko didn’t mean to hurt you and let me go?". Mai sent a knife for you and you used your bending to only just knock it off course. "Fine i guess violence is the answer" and launched into an attack. You didn’t want to hurt Mai so mainly avoided her attacks in an effort to tire her so you could then take her out carefully. The best way to do that was to make her lose focus. You’d been told your best weapon in a fight was your mouth, you could make people angry and lose concentration easily and so tried to use some of that now on Mai. "Also just to clarify i’m not fighting you because of Zuko, i mean two girls fighting over a guy is so gross and demeaning i’m fighting you because you’re trying to stab me! Alright? Okay good, just wanted to make that clarification". "Stop talking!" Mai cried and you smirked, it was working. You carried on talking nonesense, apologising for that time at school you’d accidentally fell on her in gym, that time at the dinner party you’d knocked her drink over, that time when you were eight and called her knives dumb etc, until finally Mai’s anger peaked but it didn’t make her an easier opponent, the anger seemed to fuel her. Mai threw a knife and before you could move it landed in your arm. The pain was red hot and more intense that any burn or hit you’d been inflicted before. Angry and barely thinking you retaliated. You yanked the knife out of your arm and sent it right back at her. Mai hadn’t been expecting that and neither had you. It cut her hand and you stared "Mai i’m sorry...". "Stop apologising" she cried trying to attack you again “fight!”. “I don’t want to fight you” you cried and Mai glared “well i’m not letting you go, this doesn’t end until me or you can’t get back up”. You winced “I hate to disagree with you but no”. You shot a wave of fire at her knocking her back against the door of a cell. “Sorry” you winced and kicked her in the chest. She tumbled into the room and you slammed the door shut. Mai beat her fists against the door in rage and you grimanced opening the eye hole. "Mai i’m sorry but I’m not fighting you so this way I don’t have to, i hope you can understand that and some day we can maybe be friends again" and then rushed away. Your escape was still in motion and you had serious time to make up for. You ran down a tunnel and shot out into the sunlight of the main yard. You spotted Zuko and Sokka and worked your way through the crowd to them. You reached Zuko and the others and were panting hard "Mai’s here...very angry...we need to go". Zuko nodded gripping your hand "yep that seems wise, let’s go!". “The barge is this way” Suki cried and you all took off running again.  

You’d finally reached the barge with minimal trouble when the pain in your arm flared and you held it awkwardly trying to ease the pain. Zuko spotted the blood on your arm and frowned “Y/n!”. "It’s fine" you smiled seeing his worry and he shook his head ripping a piece of fabric off his shirt “No it’s not, here”. He wrapped it around your arm tightly "i’m sorry we'll get you back to Katara soon" and squeezed your hand. You smiled and Zuko looked at you for a few more seconds before he had to turn away to help Sokka. Mai wasn’t the only one in the prison, Azula and Ty lee were here too of course. You watched the fight from the barge, furious you couldn’t join in but your arm was making you feel faint so you knew fighting was not an option for you. Azula and Ty lee appeared to be winning but thanks to Mai you got away. You cheered for Mai as she attacked the guards, taking out multiple men at once and Zuko looked at you confused “y/n she just stabbed you”. “But she saved us Zuko” you smiled “my apology worked...that or she just wants to kill us herself...no it’s hopefully the first one!” and then you prompty fainted from blood loss.

_ _ _

When you came round you were back at camp, arm healed courtsey of Katara, Zuko asleep at the foot of your sleeping bag. You sat up carefully not wanting to wake him but Sokka didn’t get the memo. “Y/n” he yelled seeing you and rushed over. Zuko jolted awake and stopped Sokka from touching you “don’t she could still be sore!”. “I’m fine Zuko” you smirked but still he pushed Sokka away from you so he could hug you first. “You worried me when you fainted...I had no idea your arm was that bad...i’m so sorry”. “Don’t be” you smiled “i’m fine aren’t i? and we got Sokka’s dad! and Mai might have forgiven us! All in all it was a good trip”. “Only you could think you almost dying was a success”. “Almost” you said pointedly “almost dying Zuko”. Zuko rolled his eyes and kissed you making Sokka groan “ugh I think I’ll take my hug later...” and left you and Zuko alone.  

The campsite

Azula soon found your hiding place in the western air temple forcing you to move to a camping ground and there was a limited number of tents. Katara was trying to sort out the sleeping arrangements but she miscalculated.  "And y/n you can share my tent" Katara announced, her long and careful explanation finished and you and Zuko exchanged a look. "That’s sweet Katara but i’m fine bunking with Zuko". You’d barely finished your sentance when Sokka spluttered in suprise. "But you can’t do that" Sokka cried and you raised an eyebrow "why not?". "Because you’re dating" he cried but you and Zuko shrugged "and?". “And? well it’s...it’s against the rules! I’m not allowed to share with Suki, tell them Katara!" he cried pushing his sister forwards who frowned awkwardly. "Well we’re older than you" you shrugged and Zuko nodded "and smarter". "Plus we’re engaged" you pointed out and everyone’s eyes widenned "what?". "Is she lying?" Aang asked Zuko shook his head "i mean no...just i didn’t actually ask her my father did it for me but yes, technically speaking we are engaged". You nodded to Sokka "are you and Suki engaged?". "Well no..." he blushed. "Then that’s why you can’t share a tent" you retorted and pulled Zuko’s arm as you went into the tent "night guys". Zuko followed you as Sokka called out protests and Katara just sighed "leave them alone Sokka". Sokka stared mouth wide-open before an idea formed in his head and he started towards Suki’s tent. "Go to your own tent Sokka!" Katara called and Sokka cursed "ow come on!".

You moved around campsites pretty regularly after that incase Azula found you again and ended up in an old villa Zuko’s family owned. Everything was going fine, you had a beach day, Zuko and Aang got better at firebending, you even managed to drag Zuko to the theatre and then Aang went missing. With Aang gone Zuko figured the only person who could take on his father was his uncle and so you set out to find him. Zuko recruited an old friend to help and you soon found King Bumi and the white lotus who took you to Iroh’s camp site. Bumi told Zuko the tent Iroh was in and you saw Zuko tense and fear covered his face. “Don’t worry” you said patting his arm “your uncle will forgive you, just tell him what you told me and it’ll all be okay”. Zuko nodded but seemed unable to do much else, he looked paralysed. “Can you...can you come with me?” Zuko asked softly and your heart exploded in sympathy. “Of course I will” you nodded hugging him tightly. The others all dispersed and you and Zuko walked arm and arm to the tent. Zuko took a breath before entering and you looked at him “ready?”. He nodded looking at you before fixing his eyes on the tent opening and he stepped inside. You followed a few steps behind and saw Zuko look around before his posture slumped. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust but Zuko filled you in on what was happening “we should go he’s asleep”. You frowned knowing Zuko wouldn’t get any rest until this was done. “Why don’t we wait for him to wake up?”. Zuko looked at you before nodding “yeah okay”. You sat crosslegged on the floor beside one another waiting for Iroh to wake up. The hours stretched on and on and you felt sleep trying to take you but you resisted. You kept ahold of Zuko’s hand letting him know you were there with him. You were sure the time felt far worse for him and weren’t going to leave him, even if it was just to sleep. When Iroh did move Zuko jumped and you swallowed. “It’s okay” you assured him and he nodded standing up. Zuko moved forwards and you didn’t follow. This should be between him and his uncle, but when Zuko started to cry your heart did crumple slightly. Just as you were begging Iroh to forgive him already he wrapped Zuko into a tight hug and, also crying, forgave him. Tears fell down your cheeks too as you smiled at the sight of Zuko and his uncle. Iroh noticed you when he opened his eyes and he smiled warmly.  "Y/n get in here" Iroh grinned holding out a hand to you. You blushed “ow are you sure? I mean this is your family moment...I don’t want to intrude”. Iroh scoffed "any girl who visited me in prison and snook me snacks is family in my eyes". You grinned and Zuko frowned "wait you visited my uncle in prison?". You shrugged "not too often about once a week". "How did i not know this?" Zuko asked and you paled "i purposefully didn’t tell you, i wanted you to work out your feelings on your own, i hope you’re not mad". Zuko shook his head "of course i’m not mad now come here". You smiled and stepped forward to join the hug between Zuko and Iroh.

Afterwards you caught Iroh up on everything he’d missed and Zuko explained his idea to have Iroh overthrow Ozai. Even as Zuko said it you got the feeling it wouldn’t happen, you could tell by Iroh’s reaction he had something different in mind. When Iroh said it wasn’t him who should be the new firelord you knew where he was going, you’d already been suspecting Zuko should have more say in how the fire nation was run and Iroh apparently agreed. "Me? Firelord?" Zuko asked "but i can’t...". Sokka, Toph, Katara and Suki just looked to you, now very used to you giving Zuko pep talks and you were on it. "You can" you smiled taking Zuko’s hand "i figured you’d have to do it for a while now and you’ve proven yourself Zuko, you can do this". Zuko stared at you blankly as his uncle joined in, listing the reasons why Zuko would make a good ruler. Zuko gripped your hand tighter as what you were both saying set in. "Okay" he barely whispered "i’ll go see Azula and become..." he swallowed and you smiled "you won’t be facing her alone" you told him and Zuko beamed at you.  

The Agni Kai

Judgement day here you and Zuko returned to the fire nation so he could fight his sister. Katara accompanied you as you figured you’d need a healer no matter who won. You landed in the courtyard and told Appa to fly away in case Azula tried to hurt him. You stood behind Zuko, beside Katara, waiting for the fight of his life. If he won he became firelord, if he didn’t...lets just say there’s no way Azula would let any of you live. The fight began and you stayed out of the way of Azula and Zuko’s duel as much as you could. With the comet fueling their bending it was one of the most intense fights you’d ever witnessed but Zuko was performing well. As Azula started to lose you could see her eyeing her surroundings for a way out and she fixed on you. You were ready for this, back at camp Iroh had warned you about this and given you a crash course in deflecting lightning, you pushed Katara back and readied yourself to deflect your first lightning bolt ever as it hurtled towards you. Zuko yelled out chasing it but was too slow, not that it mattered. You caught it and using the technique Iroh had taught you shot it right back at Azula. It worked and you were thrilled until you realised Zuko had been running towards you and was now right in the path of the deflected bolt. The bolt struck both Zuko and Azula within seconds of one another and sent them both flying back at the force. The smoke cleared and you went cold as you saw Zuko smouldering on the ground. "Zuko" you yelled rushing to him, it had hit him on the shoulder and the wound was badly burnt. "Katara" you called and she rushed over. "Heal him! Please! please!" You pleaded "i didn’t mean to hit him, i didn’t know he was so close". Katara worked and you stared at Zuko’s burn, the burn you’d given him until his breathing evened out and you gasped in relief. "I’m going to go make sure Azula’s okay and bind her" Katara told you and you nodded barely even listening as you cradled Zuko "Zuko are you okay?" you asked "Zuko i’m so sorry!". "Don’t be" he smiled weakly "i should’ve learnt long ago you don’t need me to save you, when did you learn to do that? More secret visits with my uncle". "Maybe" you smiled before frowning at Zuko’s burn that would surely form a scar despite Katara’s help "i can’t believe i did that to you". "Don't' Zuko said moving your gaze to his face "you did it, we did, we won". You nodded smiling and hugged him, carefully, but none the less passionately.

When Zuko was well enough you helped him to stand and walked him to the balcony overlooking all of the firenation. Zuko looked over the city below and you followed his gaze. It was still barely light but dusk was approaching and small lights were lighting up around the city. They news would be spreading as you stood here that Zuko was the new firelord and the war was finally over. You smiled standing beside him "surveying your new kingdom? Looking for a place to build a statue of yourself?". Zuko tutted but smiled. "This doesn’t feel normal" he sighed "this...that i’m...". "Firelord" you smiled "Firelord Zuko". Zuko nodded "it even sounds weird you saying it". You smiled and wrapped an arm around his waist. Zuko didn’t hesitate to wrap his around your shoulder. "It sounds weird now but you’re going to be an amazing Firelord Zuko, you’re kind and smart and actually want to help people! We haven’t had a firelord with that mentality in...well forever! I have total faith in you". Zuko sighed "i’m glad someone does". "Hey" you said tilting his face to yours "remember what i said to you on that ship all that time ago, i never lie about important things. You will be an amazing Firelord Zuko, just you wait and see". Zuko smiled and kissed you softly. You smiled stroking his cheek as you kissed him back. Zuko broke away but pulled you to his chest wrapping his arms around you. You smiled looking out at the city. "With you with me i can’t mess this up too badly right?". You smiled "that’s right, together we can handle this".

2 years later

"Y/n" Zuko groaned as you messed with his hair but he didn’t push you away. You’d been on your longest voyage since you’d been dating and honestly Zuko wouldn’t push you away from him even if you were stabbing him he’d missed you so much. You’d returned this morning after a 6 month naval trip to the water tribe and Zuko had left your side once. He had to leave for a small disaster in one of the colonies and that had killed him but now he was back in his rightful place beside you and that was all that mattered. You were messing with his hair, trying to get his hair free of the crown he’d had to put on to attend his crisis meeting. You were never of a fan of anything restricting Zuko’s hair and finally yanked the clip from his hair and smiled as it fell down in all it’s glory. "There" you said patting his shoulders and Zuko shook his head blowing a piece of hair out of his face. "Y/n you know i can’t have my hair down all the time". "But why not? You’re the Firelord and now is the time for important changes!". Zuko rolled his eyes but smiled "and this is the big change you think i should make?". You nodded "ow yes, you need to look respectable as Firelord and with your hair down you look really really good" you sighed and Zuko smirked. "Well i’m glad you like it but it’s not practical, how would i even wear my crown?" Zuko asked and you frowned before pushing him down so you could reach his head. "Hmmm maybe we could fashion a little stand, or pin some pieces to hold it in place...". "That sounds like a lot of effort" Zuko commented when you gasped "or you could plait it!". "Plait it?" Zuko asked and you nodded. "I saw lots of men with plaits in their hair in the water tribe on my visit, Sokka’s dad has one and it looks very good on a man". Zuko raised an eyebrow "you think Sokka’s dad looks good?". "No...well yes Hakoda is hot but you’re missing the point, let’s do your hair like that!". "No i think we should go back to the Hakoda’s hot part..." Zuko commented but you hushed him and pushed him to sit on the floor as you fiddled with his hair. Zuko sighed but liked the feeling of you playing with his hair so smiled and closed his eyes. You were gentle and your touch soft so Zuko relaxed into you until you abruptly stood up "done!". You showed Zuko himself in the mirror and he smiled "wow it does look good". "I told you" you grinned when the door opened and Sokka walked in. You’d brought him back from your trip as a suprise for Zuko and he’d wasted no time settling into the palace and letting himself into rooms without knocking apparently. "Zuko where do you...." Sokka started before he stopped dead in his tracks seeing Zuko’s hair. He started laughing with glee while crying "water tribe!" multiple times as he pointed at Zuko "you’ve got a water tribe hairstyle!". "Yeah y/n apparently thinks they look good on the men in your tribe" Zuko said raising an eyebrow, still not over your comment about Sokka’s dad, but you weren’t listening. As soon as Sokka heard you could plait hair he’d grabbed you "do mine! do mine!" and shook his hair loose. Zuko watched as you pulled Sokka’s hair into a plait delicately until it looked like his. "Finished" you smiked and Sokka rushed to the mirror before laughing at himself in glee too. You smiled as Sokka grabbed Zuko "we look like twins!". Zuko raised an eyebrow but you saved him the effort of replying "now do mine Sokka!". Sokka complied and you made Zuko watch so he could do it for you when Sokka wasn’t here.

Plaits all finished it was quiet a sight, the three of you sat together with matching hairstyles. You had a games night and then relaxed and chatted. You soon fell asleep against Zuko, your journey and reunion with him tiring you out too much to wait for Sokka to leave, and unbothered Zuko and Sokka carried on chatting.The conversation went quiet and Sokka looked at you "is she asleep?" he whispered and Zuko frowned "y/n?" he called but you didn’t stir "i think so". Sokka smiled "so wanna see the necklace?". Zuko nodded and Sokka went into his pocket pulling out the betrothal necklace Zuko wanted. "I had Piandao help me make it like you wanted" Sokka told him and opened the box. Zuko didn’t want a design exactly like the water tribe one, the fire nation was different and so a different necklace was needed. The one he asked Sokka to make was thinner, with a black cord crisscrossing several times before dipping down where a red stone sat, glimmering in the light. Zuko grinned, it was exactly like he’d imagined it. "Do you think she'll like it?" Sokka asked and Zuko nodded looking down at you "yes". "Well she better or she’s never going to say yes to marrying you". Zuko gulped, that was true but Sokka hit his arm "i was joking, of course she'll say yes, she loves you more than anything, anyone can see that just watching you two together". Zuko smiled down at you asleep against his chest and thought about the proposal he’d prepared. He was going to take you to your favourite restuarant, a tradition you’d still kept up even after he turned into the firelord, and treat you to your favourite foods. Then you’d walk back to the palace through all your favourite spots in the gardens and end up by the turtle duck pond. He’d have your turtleduck come over with the necklace securely attached to his back and Zuko would ask you then and there. "I hope so" he sighed when you moved in your sleep suddenly. "Zuko can we go to bed" you yawned "i’m tired and the light is very bright". Zuko and Sokka froze as you sat up and you frowned "what? Did i drool or something when i was napping?". They both sighed in relief, you hadn’t heard. "Yeah we can go to bed" Zuko nodded and Sokka stood up "i’ll see you guys tomorrow" and sneakily left the box on a table for Zuko. You were oblivious already pulling the covers back to get into bed. Sokka grinned at Zuko and made his way to the door "night y/n" he called and you said a sleepy reply before face diving into the bed. Zuko smirked closing the door and turning the light off before joining you. You sighed sleepily as Zuko snook closer to you and pulled you against him. You shuffled your head getting comfy against him and eventually stopped "goodnight Firelord" you said sleepily and Zuko smirked, he still hadn’t gotten used to it but he liked how it sounded when you said it. "Goodnight y/n" he smiled kissing your head but you were already asleep. "I really hope you say yes" he whispered before resting his head beside yours and going to sleep.

You said yes of course.

______

So that’s it! I had to get in a comment about Zuko’s hair progression one last time because honestly that was one of the greatest things about the whole series. This was kinda hard to write cus so much happened once Zuko joined the gaang but i tried to split it into parts so hopefully it wasn’t too disjointed 😐

Thank you for all the likes and support it means a lot :)

[emmettblack]

He’s home alone when he gets the call. Vida’s out running errands as Emmett waits for her, watching TV with Bart and Gilly resting beside him. He doesn’t answer the first call, the screen showing his uncle's name. It’s probably nothing he thinks to himself until the second call. From his father. Something is wrong and they need him.

He answers but doesn’t get the chance to say anything. His father’s words stopped him from doing so. The phone call lasts for only thirty seconds before his father hangs up, leaving Emmett to just sit there with a tight jaw and expressionless eyes. Even with his two cats meowing and trying to get his attention, he doesn’t hear a single thing. All he can hear is his father’s words.

“We need you, Ji-Hun. It’s time for you to leave.”

tw: death (ish), violence, kashia’s bullshit

Emmett and Vida do live peacefully together! Okay, they do have their ups and downs every once in a while but they’re strong and continue dating. He’s happy, they’re both happy.

Unfortunately Polo dies in December of 2021. Emmett is heartbroken and doesn’t get another fish afterwards. No one can replace his favorite fishboy.

Treats Bart and Gilly as his actual children, probably loves them more than he loves Vida ( which is saying a lot ).

Three years into being a spy and Emmett finds himself no longer loving the job as much. It’s nice and all but it doesn’t… feel right. The only person to know of this is his grandfather who visits alongside Emmett’s grandmother. The two go out for lunch to talk about life and Emmett reveals this to the older man. His grandfather asks him the question “ are you sure this is what you want to do? “ Emmett is unable to answer him, his grandfather doesn’t push him. They move on from the topic and it’s never brought up again.

If you don’t think Emmett is considering proposing to Vida then you’re dead wrong! It’s on his mind but he just doesn’t have the courage to ask her. He’s waiting for the perfect moment to ask her, he just doesn’t know when.

So that phone call? Yeah, he gets it on August 24th, 2027. After that his entire vibe is just off. He doesn’t tell Vida about it, he can’t even though he wants to. Everything within him wants to tell her but he can’t do that.

It takes him a month to get everything ready. He puts in his two weeks notice with MI6 and asks them to keep it a secret. He doesn’t pack any clothes, leaves behind all electronics and cards as he disappears when Vida isn’t home. He has to cover all of his tracks so that no one is able to track him, mainly his girlfriend. His family gives him a new phone with a new number, a plane ticket, and a new identity. Emmett Blackthorne is gone.

BEFORE YOU CONTINUE READING!!!! This part of Emmett’s life will be roleplayed ( idk where aigaojgao ) so it might not be exactly like this rip. But either way, here’s a basic summary of what I want to happen. So please enjoy!!

He moves to South Korea and goes by a new name Yoon Woo-Jin. His parents suggested that he goes by his Korean name and mother’s maiden name, Cho Ji-Hun. However, he goes against it only because he knew that Vida would find him like that. He gets a place to himself and immediately starts working.

His mission? To help an old family friend destroy a new gang from the inside out. While new, the group is stronger than others and growing at a rapid rate. Said gang has been starting problems, doing everything in their power to take control of everyone within their vicinity. Emmett is to not only take down this gang by creating a rapport with them but to put the group into their place. Remind them to stay in their lanes and not to disrespect those older than them.

It’s not too bad, the mission. The worst part is the lack of communication. He’s not allowed to reach out to any of his friends, only his parents, his mother’s family, and those within the gang. He knows Vida’s number better than he knows his own. Almost texts and calls her throughout his entire stay. Drunk him can’t be trusted, he legit almost called her to confess everything. Stops himself every single time.

On Vida’s end, she’s going crazy. Ever since his disappearance, she’s been trying to find him. From asking around at work, reaching out to their friends, and even his family. The Blackthornes say nothing despite knowing where he is. No matter what she does or tries to look for, she can’t find him. For six months, she tries to find him, using every single one of her resources until there’s nothing left. It’s when she comes to a stop still that someone does reach out to her, Sunbin Blackthorne. Emmett’s mother.

During those six months, Emmett has risen in his ranks. He makes himself a useful and valuable asset. He poses as a dedicated member who will do anything for the leader, a man without a family, that’s Yoon Woo-Jin. The complete opposite of the family originated and fun loving Emmett Blackthorne. This new persona is quiet, keeps to himself, and does what he’s told. The leader likes that a lot about him, Woo-Jin is the man for him.

The only problem with him climbing the ranks so quickly is that people grow suspicious of him. They try to look into him, they watch him closely, and follow him wherever he goes. Emmett is forced to be even more careful and cautious of what he does and where he goes. Besides, at this rate, the gang will be destroyed within a few more months. He just has to hold off until then.

But not everything goes like he wants it to when Vida Torres arrives. He gets back to his apartment after a fight with another group where he sees her. Still as beautiful as ever, even as she glares at him with red eyes. He doesn’t give her a chance to talk before he pulls her in for a hug. He cries, she cries, they go inside his apartment. Unknown to the two are the peering eyes that watch the pair walk into the apartment.

Comes to find out that it was his mother who told Vida everything, the older woman giving in because she felt bad. To be left out of the loop about your partner’s whereabouts and mission, it was unfair and she didn’t deserve that. Apologies and a lot of yelling later, he tells her everything. “Just a month or two and I’ll be done. I’ll go back to you, I promise,” is what he tells her as he holds onto her tight. He only needed one more month and he’ll be fine.

Word about him having a girl got out, the other members teasing him about it. He can take petty and dumb teasing but he does not tolerate disgusting comments about the love of his life. One guy tries it, another member at the same ranking as Emmett. He doesn’t appreciate it, he attacks the guy. The two come out of the fight with bruises, a busted lip, and a black eye on the other guy. To the gang, Woo-Jin is always calm and doesn’t bother listening to any of them. Yet here he is, attacking one of them because of something they said about his girl. It’s called he’s in love you fuckers! This doesn’t go well, the other guy is pissed and he’s holding a grudge. Remember him everyone.

As for Emmett and Vida, well, he doesn’t tell her to leave. Honestly, he loves her company. Nor does he tell her to be careful, she’s a spy. If anyone tries to come for her, she’ll take care of them. He takes Vida to meet his mother’s side of the family. The Cho’s own a small restaurant, it’s really cute and homey. They’re a bunch of civilians who aren’t aware of the Blackthorne's true profession but they do know that the family is rich. It’s nice, the two feel normal being with them.

Unknown to the couple, the man that Emmett attacked is known as Lee Sang-Woo is already planning his revenge. He’s not a fan of this newbie climbing the rankings so quickly. Instead of attacking Emmett directly, he tries to find out who he is. By that, he wants to know where he came from and if he’s actually loyal to the group. Ends up finding a trace to the man that Emmett is really working for. Nam Do-Hun, the leader of a well established mafia with ties in the political world in South Korea and minor influences in the entertainment business. The Nam family are a group that had issues with this gang constantly entering their terrority. Using Emmett to destroy them from the inside is just a lot easier and cleaner to do than having them all killed.

But because of this small trace, it gets bad for Emmett and now Vida who’s staying with him. Instead of attacking the two, Sang-Woo and the gang leader set up a plan. The plan is to give Emmett a reason to contact the Nam family and have them meet him somewhere. Probably has him escort or watch over the gang leader. He falls for the bait because he’s been waiting for this moment.

The Nam family arrives but waiting for them is the gang. Big bad, a fight breaks out. Emmett, who is usually a king when fighting, is getting JUMPED by the gang leadr and Sang-Woo. But guess who comes to his rescue? You guessed it, the love of his life Vida <3. They’re literally kicking ass together because they’re SOULMATES.

During the middle of this big ol’ fight, Emmett sees Vida just kicking ass and he just blurts how much he loves her. And asks her to marry him. While people are fighting around them. While gunshots are being fired. She says yes. They kiss, they then go back to fighting.

The mission successfully ends but with casualties. Many were injured, some to the point where they were to be hospitalized. But either way, Emmett’s mission to destroy said gang comes to an end and he’s able to return home with Vida.

They get married :) It’s really cute, they’re both so happy, everyone is happy for them.

Emmett stops being a spy and goes down the route of assassination. Years later he becomes the new Blackthorne head. He loves it here <3

I KNOW THAT DEANNA AND HECATE WANT SATOMI AND TOMMY TO REOPEN BLACKTHORNE AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW!!!! EMMETT AGREES AND HELPS WITH REBUILDING THE SCHOOL. I can’t say much about it because I don’t know anything <3 Just know that he’s happy

Him and Vida have a lot kids! Most are children that they adopt, idk how many pls ask strud. The torthorne kids get to decide on if they want to become spies, assassins, or just civilians.

Very happy with his wife and children. Simply refuses to die and leave them behind so he works extra hard during each mission ( sometimes he comes back a mess but who cares <3 He’s alive )

Dies of old age <3

I love my son.

[songtoyou]

Chapter 6: Earned It

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,187

Warnings: This chapter is very smutty. Male receiving. Female receiving. Bondage. Flogging. 

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Summary: Tommy takes Rose back to his place after the gala for some fun and much-needed stress relief. He continues to pry more into Rose's personal life. 

A/N: I am still getting used to writing smut. I hope I did this chapter justice.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​

The drive to Tommy's home was quiet. Rose looked out the window as they entered the upscale London neighborhood. The homes were beautiful. Before Tommy pulled the car into his underground garage, Rose could make out the spacious townhouse. With the car in park, Rose stepped out and saw a full view of the other vehicles in the garage.

"Wow," she said, noting the different set of cars, which ranged from Audis to BMWs, to a Lexus. "You actually drive all of these cars?"

"The Audi is new. Haven't tested it out properly yet," Tommy shrugged and grabbed Rose's hand to lead her to the elevator that would take them up to the townhouse.

The main part of the home was exquisite. Tommy's tastes were immaculate. Everything was so elegant and fancy, from the furniture to the art on the wall.  However, Rose could tell that this wasn't a home that was "lived in" but rather that it was more for a show of Tommy's status and wealth. Everything was white and too clean. Nothing was out of place. It was all too designed. Nothing homey about Tommy's home, which didn't quite surprise Rose.

"Fancy something to drink before we start?" Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette. Rose turned to him and asked for a whisky, no ice. "Take a seat. I will be right back," he instructed Rose.

She sat on the couch and continued to look around the home. No family pictures insight, which was weird to Rose. With all its elegance and pageantry, this home was empty of any happiness or warmth.

When Tommy returned with their drinks, he sat down next to Rose on the couch. While Tommy practically downed his drink, Rose took small sips.

"Let's talk," spoke Tommy. It definitely was not a question but more of an order. He leaned back on the couch, and Rose repeated his actions.

"What do you want to talk about?" Rose asked, continuing to take small sips of her whiskey, which was really good. Unquestionably high-quality whiskey in Tommy's collection.

"You. If that is okay?"

Rose quirked an eyebrow. "What do you want to know about that you haven't looked into yourself?"

"Why did you leave Blackpool?"

"There was nothing there for me," Rose responded rather quickly, Tommy noted.

"Your parents still live in Blackpool," he noted. "Do you have any siblings?"

"No. Only child. I'm sure my parents wish they had more since I turned out to be such a disappointment. Not only did the Turners' only child have to get pregnant at sixteen, but she's a whore to boot. Yeah, they won that jackpot."

"Don't get down on yourself. You made a nice life for yourself and your son. Not many people can say that," Tommy reassured Rose.

"I guess so. This isn't exactly the career I had in mind, you know. I got…I needed a way to make a living without relying on my parents or Louis's father. The job I have at New City College never paid enough."

Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke. "What does your son think you do to bring in money? There is no way a part-time job as a program assistant at New City College provides enough."

"It doesn't. He thinks I work as a full-time Program Manager at the College. He will never find out what I actually do. Never. It would destroy him."

"What about your son's father? Is he still around?" Tommy inquired.

"He's around. Not much, but he stops by unannounced every so often. Louis's dad, Nick, keeps asking me to marry him. He's been asking since I got pregnant all those years ago," she revealed.

"Sounds noble of him. Why do you keep turning him down?"

"Because I don't love Nick, and he isn't exactly a good person. He has gotten into trouble. Petty crime. Some jail time. He says he has cleaned up his act, but I can't risk it, you know. Louis is still so attached to him. My son is the one I worry about getting his heart broken in all of this if his dad and I didn't work out. Which I already know we won't," Rose shared with Tommy. "You knew about Nick, didn't you? I mean, you looked into my life and my son's life. There is no reason why you wouldn't do the same to the man who got me pregnant at sixteen years old. You have too many assets to protect. You have this inquisitive need to know about everything and everyone to protect yourself. The last thing Tommy Shelby would ever want is to be blindsided. Am I right?"

Tommy downed the rest of his whiskey and loudly placed it on the coffee table with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Get undress," he ordered Rose cheekily and sat deep on the couch.

"Did I hit a nerve, Mr. Shelby?" Rose teased while starting with her shoes. "The questioning stops when I turn the tables on you, huh."

When Rose got her shoes off, she asked Tommy to help unzip the back of the dress. He did so but made sure to graze his hand against her back. 

With the dress off, Rose was standing in her fancy bra and underwear that Tommy purchased. He reached for Rose and guided her on his lap. Cupping Rose's breasts, Tommy gave them a hard squeeze and ran his hands down to her ass. Rose leaned in to capture Tommy's lips while running her own hands up his chest. She pulled off his suspenders and untucked his shirt.

"Just rip it off," Tommy ordered, "I can get a new one."

Ripping his shirt open, Rose tossed it off to the side. Tommy lifted his arms for Rose to take off his undershirt. Now completely shirtless, Rose began placing kisses all over Tommy's chest and grinding against his hard cock.

She got off his lap and got down on her knees. Rose unzipped his pants and reached inside for his cock. She began stroking it up and down and licked the precum off the tip. Tommy let out a moan that echoed throughout the room.

Soon, Rose engulfed his length into her mouth and began to bob her head up and down his shaft. It wasn't long before Tommy blew his load in her mouth, which she happily swallowed.

Before Rose could bring her mouth around him again, Tommy held her off.

"Wait," blurted Tommy while tucking himself back in his pants. For a moment, Rose was confused until Tommy mentioned taking it upstairs. She got off of the floor to him quickly and followed him. He led Rose into one of the several guest bedrooms. She saw her overnight bag in the corner. Tommy proceeded to lock the door, then close the blinds.

Reaching for Rose, Tommy wrapped his arms around her waist and placed his forehead against her own. "Tell me the words before we start?"

"Green for go. Yellow to slow down. Red for stop," Rose recited to Tommy.

"Don't ever hesitate to say Red or Yellow if anything becomes too much for you, yeah," Tommy uttered and unclipped Rose's bra and pulled down her underwear. "It has been a long day, love. I need to release all my pent-up stress and frustrations. Let me take it out on your beautiful body. Would you grant that wish, love?" Tommy asked. He wanted Rose's consent. He wanted to make sure she was okay with what he hand in store for her.

"Yes, Tommy. I consent," she replied and began to unbuckle his belt. However, Tommy stopped Rose and ordered her to the bed. She did just that and saw Tommy retreat to the closet.

When Tommy returned, he had a black duffle bag placed on the floor next to the bed. She saw he pulled out leather cuffs, a ball gag, and a Hitachi vibrator. He took cuffs and attached them to her wrists and ankles. He then got out some rope and tied each wrist to the headboard and the ankles to the end of the bed.

"You feel okay," Tommy asked, checking the ropes to make sure they were secure. "Use your words," he added when Rose only nodded her reply.

"I feel good," she answered while flexing her wrist and ankles in the cuffs to test them out.

Before Tommy got to the ball gag or Hitachi, he placed himself between Rose's legs and began rubbing his thumb along her clit. "It doesn't take much to get you wet, does it," he teased as Rose continued to grind against his thumb. He then leaned forward to trace his tongue along her folds.

The feeling of Tommy's tongue made Rose buck her hips off the bed. Tommy chuckled and used his free hand to place on her stomach to keep her in place.

When Rose was about to reach her peak, Tommy pulled away and wiped her residue from his face. She saw Tommy grab the Hitachi and bring it closer to her pussy. He spread her folds once again, placed the vibrator against her clit, and turned it on.

Starting in a low setting, Rose began moving along the vibrator to offset the sensation she felt. Whenever she was about the reach that sweet feeling of release, Tommy would pull the vibrator away. Rose would only groan in frustration. She knew Tommy was going to prolong her suffering for a while.

This continued until Rose started feeling tears sting her eyes. Tommy clicked off the vibrator once again and grabbed the extra rope that was nearby. He kept the vibrator on Rose's pussy but proceeded to tie it in place with the rope. He gave the sex toy a nice tug to make sure it stayed in place, then got off the bed. Tommy took the ball gag in his hands.

"Open," he directed Rose and placed the gag in her mouth. He secured it tightly around her head and ran his hand alongside her cheek, neck, and down to her breasts. He continued to roam her body until he reached the Hitachi and clicked it on. This time to a high setting.

"I need you to suffer for me, Rose. I need it. I crave it," Tommy began to say, "I'm going to allow you to have all the orgasms you want. I want to watch the tears stream down your face when it begins to hurt. I want to hear your muffled screams begging for me to turn the vibrator off. I want it all. So, I'm going to sit back and watch you suffer for me."

There was nothing Rose could do but endure all the pain and pleasure Tommy gave her. So, she lay there on the bed, restrained, gagged, and made to cum over and over while Tommy merely sat back and watched.

When the vibrator was switched back to its low setting, Rose opened her eyes to see Tommy standing by the bed. She could barely make out what was in his hand. It wasn't until Rose felt a stinging sensation on her stomach that she realized it was a flogger. A leather flogger from the looks of it. Tommy kept bringing it down across her breasts, stomach, thighs, and legs. He did this repeatedly, and all Rose could do was endure it.

Tommy loved the way Rose's body squirmed under the vibrator and now the flogger.

"So pretty," he said while tracing the deep red marks along her body. "Like beautiful ribbons all along your body."

After a few more hits with the flogger, Tommy put it away and upped the speed on the vibrator once again.

Rose couldn't tell how much time had passed, but by her fifth or was it sixth orgasm, everything hurt.

"That's it, love. You're almost done. I need one more out of you," Tommy encouraged as he caressed Rose's cheek while wiping away the tears. "You're doing so good," he added.

By the final orgasm, Rose let out a loud, muffled scream. Tommy turned off the vibrator, and she passed out on the bed. He took out the ball gag from Rose's mouth and wiped the excess drool from her chin. Tommy untied the vibrator from Rose's leg and unhooked the cuffs from her ankles and wrists. He began to rub back the circulation in her joints slowly. He then gently rubbed an herbal balm cream on the areas he flogged to help the irritated skin. The feeling of the cream being rubbed into her skin was soothing for Rose as she continued to lie on the bed and get her breathing under control. The session was intense but pleasurable for her. She hadn't felt that good in a long time. Yeah, it hurt, but it was a good hurt.

"How are you feeling?" Tommy asked, lying down next to Rose and wrapped his arms around her. She slowly turned more towards him to tuck herself closer to his chest.

"Good. Tired," Rose managed to say.

"Rest now, love. You've earned it."

[inkedstarlight]

Nesta and Cassian are at war. They won't admit they like each other, and are playing a game to see who can get the other more worked up and sexually frustrated and eventually break. Nesta wins by flashing Cassian

This was WAY longer than I intended it to be, I got carried away. Who doesn’t when it comes to Nessian?  I hope you enjoy this! I also posted it on AO3 here.

It began two weeks ago.

They were at Rita’s. The night was young, and the alcohol was flowing. Nesta had been looking forward to going out; she’d spent endless hours editing books throughout the past week. She desperately needed a break, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Most of her friend group went out that night, sans Feyre and Rhysand. They took ‘PDA’ to a whole other level. A level that Nesta did not enjoy watching.

She’d been doing shots with Amren when her favorite song began to play over the speakers. Nesta gave her best friend a knowing look.

It’s dance time, bitch, Nesta communicated silently to Amren.

And just like that, the two girls were rushing to the dance floor, stilettos tapping on the wooden floor.

Amren resembled a siren in a deep blue dress that clung to her long legs, the neckline plunging to reveal her impressive assets. Strands of silky black hair framed her dark face, and her plump lips were tilted into a perpetual smirk. Next to her, Nesta was clad in red satin. The dress flowed to her ankles, a long slit revealing the entirety of her bare leg, teasing what lay beneath. Both women were forces to be reckoned with, unrelenting and strong. But together? They could dominate the goddamn world.

Amren had crooked a finger toward Nesta to usher her closer. Nesta happily obliged, a laugh bubbling in her throat as she drunkenly placed her midnight acrylic nails on Amren’s waist. When the chorus played, Nesta and Amren started moving. Their hips swayed in a tantalizing dance, teasing any man or woman who dared to watch them. This was a typical night for Amren. But Nesta? She had never danced like this before, at least not in public.

Then again, she’d never been this drunk in public.

Thank you, Svedka.

A laugh escaped her as Amren twerked right in front of Nesta. Amren was infamous for her dance moves, especially the ‘booty clap.’ Nesta remembered when Elain finally convinced Amren to teach her. They had all laughed at her. So it came as a bit of surprise when Elain nailed it on the first try, her ass shaking more than Amren’s did. Azriel’s face was priceless; he didn’t think anyone noticed, but Nesta saw everything. Including the telling look in his eyes.

He’s been on her radar since.

Inhibitions thrown out the window, Nesta joined Amren, the pair giggling uncontrollably as they bumped into others on the dance floor. It was packed with people. Nesta’s skin sheened with sweat, her golden hair sticking to the back of her neck.

At that moment, Nesta had felt a pair of eyes roving up and down her body. She didn’t even need to look to see who it was.

Cassian and her had become friends. He was the only person (besides Amren) who she hung out with individually. Those instances were few and far between, though. Cassian worked when Nesta was off. Nesta worked when Cassian was off. She couldn’t remember the last time it had been just them.

After Nesta had broken up with Tomas just a few months ago, things between her and Cassian were… taut. He’d never been a fan of her ex-boyfriend, especially when Tomas had told her she could no longer talk to Cassian. It ended pretty quickly after that.

Nesta was always aware of the touch of his gaze on her. She sensed it, whether they were at the bar, drinking wine, playing games, or eating dinner. It had become difficult to control the urge to stare right back at him. Not only because he was a sight for sore eyes but also, she loved the way his expression changed when he gazed at her.

Nesta finally looked up to find Cassian watching from the bar, nostrils flared. Undressing her with his eyes.

Jesus fucking Christ, Nesta thought to herself, nearly fanning her face to compensate for the heat that was rushing to her core. He didn't need to know that though.

Nesta simply blew a kiss at him and continued dancing. Now that she knew what was on Cassian’s mind, Nesta faced away from where he stood and began grinding against Amren, who encouraged her with catcalls.

Take that.

Gods, she sounded like a child. Someone needed to stop her.

Just moments later, he approached them. Amren spotted him first, smirking as she took a step away and said, “I’m going to get another drink.”

Before Nesta could ask for another gin and tonic, a strong, familiar hand grabbed Nesta’s arm, and she whipped around to find herself face-to-face with Cassian. Why wasn’t she surprised?

Nesta’s cheeks were flushed as she looked up at the towering man with bright eyes. The smirk on her lips was a challenge in and of itself.

“My turn,” Cassian rumbled.

Nesta didn’t argue as she was pulled against his hard body. She clasped her hands on the back of his neck, his hands reaching to grip her lower back. She inhaled his intoxicating scent. She didn’t get the chance to do so often. It was like she was getting drunk on an otherworldly drug. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

Neither of them said a word.

Cassian looked down at her, heat flaring in his eyes. Then, he twisted her in his arms until her back was flush against his broad chest. She nearly melted against his warmth. It was like he’d put her under a spell.

A new song started to play. It was seductive, slow, and wicked. The bass reverberated through Nesta’s chest, amplifying the beating of her heart. Cassian slowly ran his hands down her sides, his face burying into her exposed neck. Nesta gasped when she felt his teeth gently sink down on her skin. Goosebumps formed on her arms.

She heard him chuckle into her skin. Laughing at her. At the reaction he so easily got out of her.

Fine, she thought to herself smugly. Two can play this game.

Nesta pulled even closer as she began grinding her ass against his growing hardness. She drifted down his body as she sunk to the floor seductively, slowly bending up to rub her ass in circles against him. She pulled his hands into her own, guiding them down her waist, past her hips, to the large slit that barely covered her leg. Cassian circled his thumb over her upper thigh.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he whispered into her hair.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for months,” Nesta said before she could think.

He turned her around in his arms.

“Is that so?” he murmured, a cocky grin on his face.

Shit. Nesta groaned inwardly as she unintentionally inflated his enormous ego.

“Maybe when we first met. But then you opened your rutting mouth, and any desire quickly vanished.”

He growled. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Who says I’m lying?” she further goaded him. Their chests were pressed against each other, both of them breathing heavily from the tension. Nesta couldn’t pull away even if she wanted to.

“You want this,” Cassian stated. It wasn’t a question.

“I bet you want it more.” Nesta couldn’t help the words leave her lips. She was a competitive person at nature, but Cassian? There wasn’t a word for how far Cassian would go to win a fucking game of ping pong.

“Hardly, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. He was confident.

“Please,” Nesta rolled her eyes, slapping his hand from her face. “I could go my entire life without laying a hand on you.”

He snorted with amusement. “I doubt it.”

Nesta tilted her head up to look him directly in the eye. “Try me.”

“It’s on.”

Nesta knew it was a mistake to say it. She knew he would accept it as a challenge.

And thus began a war between two impossibly competitive, horny friends.

What could possibly go wrong?

A lot. A lot can go fucking wrong.

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Nesta learned this the next day.

Nesta was roommates with Amren and Elain. Feyre and Rhysand lived next to them, with Azriel and Cassian living across from them. Mor was the only one smart enough to find another apartment complex nearby where she lived with her girlfriend.

Nearly all of them resided in the same apartment, something Amren and Nesta found insufferable. Some days, Nesta seriously questioned the logic of that decision.

Today was one of those days.

She had just returned from work. It was about seven o’ clock in the evening, the sun setting in the clear sky. The apartment was quiet with Amren still at her job and Elain studying in her room. Nesta let out a deep breath, exhaling all the stress she had been carrying.

Just as Nesta was about to get in her pajamas and make pancakes for dinner, someone knocked.

Are you kidding me?

Nesta groaned, her slippers tapping on the floor as she went to greet the person who so rudely interrupted. Nesta threw her hands up in the air when she saw Cassian in her goddamn doorway.

“What do you want?” she asked with a frustrated moan.

I mean, really. Who the fuck lives next to all their closest friends?

In all honesty, Nesta had forgotten about their conversation last night. Perhaps it would be considered a debate. Either way, she had been too hungover this morning to even process what had happened.

But now, with Cassian standing in her doorway, she remembered.

Nesta didn’t bother to invite him inside as she returned to the kitchen.

“It’s good to see you too, Nesta.” Amusement laced his voice, trailing behind her until he reached the kitchen island. Nesta watched as he leaned back on the counter with ease. He shot her a casual grin. As if he was welcome in her apartment.

Asshole.

“Seriously, what do you want?” Nesta retrieved the pancake mix from the counter.

“My shower’s broken.”

“And?” She began whisking the batter, barely glancing at the man in front of her.

“I need to use yours,” he told her.

Nesta’s head snapped up. “No way. Go to Rhysand’s.”

“He and Feyre are on a date,” he said matter-of-factly. Peering into the bowl, Cassian asked, “Are you putting in chocolate chips? I love pancakes with chocolate.”

“Use your spare key,” Nesta rolled her eyes as she stated the obvious, ignoring his question.

“I lost it.” Cassian shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘What can you do?’

Nesta stopped whisking the batter and looked up at the arrogant bastard standing in her kitchen. She crossed her arms. “Isn't that convenient.”

“Please, Nesta. It will only take five minutes.”

Nesta checked the oven clock. If she kept arguing with him, she wouldn’t get to eat until eight. And she knew from experience that Cassian didn’t give up easy.

“Fine,” she stubbornly relented. “There are extra towels in the linen closet. Don’t use Amren’s shampoo or she’ll kill you.” She shooed him away before he could thank her.

Thirty minutes later, and Nesta was satisfied after eating a shit ton of pancakes. She didn’t bother walking to the bathroom and yelling at Cassian, who did not take five minutes. He was still in the damn shower.

Now, with a full stomach and clean dishes, Nesta headed toward her bedroom to finally change out of her work clothes. When she opened the door, she stopped dead at what lay in front of her.

Cassian was in her bed with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was lying against her pillows, hair still damp from the shower. A book rested in his hands.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Cassian smirked as he took in her expression.

Nesta willed herself to say something, anything. But the sight of a half-naked Cassian lying in her bed was a sight to behold. One that she wouldn’t mind capturing with her camera.

That’s when Nesta noticed what he was reading.

No, no no.

“Why the fuck are you reading my book?” Nesta fumed, beelining to the bed to snatch it from his hands.

Cassian was too quick, though. He held the book out of reach, tsking her. “But I’m just getting to the good part."

His grin was wicked as he showed off the cover of an explicitly smutty romance book. It was probably the worst book he could have chosen. It was certainly the most adult book in her collection.

“Give it to me,” Nesta gritted her teeth, blood boiling.

Cassian didn’t break eye contact when he slid the book behind his back, hands surrendering in the air. Then those words left his mouth.

“Make me.”

And that’s when Nesta tackled her half-naked friend in her bedroom.

She didn’t know whose limbs were whose as they wrestled with each other, rolling around on her queen-sized mattress, no doubt getting her comforter wet.

It was only thirty seconds into the match when Cassian had her pinned beneath him, their breath mingling with each other.

“What a compromising position you’ve gotten us into, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured quietly. His hazel eyes scanned her face as if he were trying to read her thoughts.

Nesta’s entire body was flush beneath Cassian. Her pink lips were parted as she stared up at him, golden hair fanning the pillow she laid on. She didn’t know what to say... or do. Should she throw him off her and kick him out? Or pull him down and kiss those full lips until the Earth stopped spinning beneath them?

She chose the former.

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

Four days had gone by since Nesta’s last encounter with Cassian. She’d pushed him off her, grabbed her book, and told him to get the fuck out. She had been quite aggressive.

She had no idea where they stood. What were they even doing? What was this sinfully delightful game they were playing? And most importantly, was he only acting like this because of the little challenge between them? Or was it real?

Nesta didn’t have the answers to any of her questions. She did, however, know this: If Cassian asked her to go on a date tomorrow, her answer would be yes.

Gods, I’m knee-deep in shit.

Elain had been quite curious as to what exactly happened that evening in their apartment. She claimed she heard the occasional yelling, but she certainly didn’t want to risk going to Nesta’s room and witnessing something she would never be able to unsee.

Nesta’s explanation? “Cassian is infuriating and sexy as sin and I hate him.”

Technically, it's the truth.

Today was Friday, meaning it was Feyre and Rhysand’s turn to host potluck. Meaning Cassian would be there. Meaning Nesta didn’t know what the hell was going to happen tonight.

Elain, Amren, and Nesta didn’t bother knocking as they invited themselves into the apartment. At this point, they had a tradition: Elain baked dessert, Amren supplied the wine, Rhysand concocted the main dish, and Cassian made ‘second dessert.’ The latter was established when Mor ate six cupcakes during a dinner several months ago. Six cupcakes. All by herself.

Nesta couldn't help but be impressed.

Everyone had already arrived when they entered. They all greeted each other, placing dishes on the counter top. They all sat down at the dinner table when Nesta realized who was missing.

“Where’s Cassian?” Nesta blurted out before she could think twice. Amren smirked at her from across the table.

“He said he’s going to be a couple minutes late,” Feyre explained as she passed the heaving dish of mashed potatoes to Rhysand. “Something about his asshole boss.”

Everyone filled up their plates with delicious, homemade food and immediately began to dig in.

Nesta didn’t listen to their conversations, instead staring down at her phone as she waited for Cassian to arrive. She didn’t bother touching her food, at least not until he sat down with a full plate.

Ten minutes later, the door shut as a tall figure entered the dining room. Cassian bowed sarcastically as their friends applauded his late presence.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion that shadowed his face. Deep purple bags hung from his eyes, but he smiled nonetheless.

Then he caught sight of Nesta.

Her heart raced in anticipation, waiting for him to acknowledge her. That, or ignore her for the rest of the night.

His smile only deepened as he took her in. Her cheeks flushed with rouge, returning the gesture.

Their friends continued their conversations as Nesta watched Cassian fill his plate to the brim. He approached the table and placed his dinner right next to Nesta. Her brows furrowed.

“The empty chair is over there,” she pointed to the other end of the table. Cassian didn’t acknowledge her as he walked to the other end of the table, picked up the only empty chair, and slid it to the spot next to Nesta.

Everyone watched curiously as Cassian settled down next to her. He shot her a grin, ignoring the fact that he just made quite the effort to be next to her. And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hi,” he greeted her casually, voice rough from hours of working. Cassian nodded to her untouched plate. “Not hungry?”

“Not particularly,” Nesta lied, just as her stomach gurgled with noises of hunger. Cassian raised his brows.

Great.

Nesta sighed. “I was just waiting for you to get here before I started eating. But now that your grumpy ass has arrived, I'm ready to devour this meal.”

She stared down at her food, poking asparagus with her fork as she took her first bite. When she reached for her wine glass, she noticed that Cassian hadn’t moved. That he was staring directly at her.

“What?” Nesta asked confusedly. “Is there food on my face?”

Cassian simply shook his head, and Nesta looked closer to see the softness of his expression. The tenderness that lay behind his eyes.

“Nothing,” he murmured, and continued to eat dinner quietly.

Just ten minutes later, people were grabbing seconds. That's when Cassian leaned down to whisper in Nesta’s ear. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

Nesta nearly burst out laughing. She wasn’t wearing a trace of makeup, and her hair was in a haphazard ponytail. She'd finally learned to practice self-love after years of depression. She could confidently say that she wholly appreciated her body, her curves, her uneven skin tone. But to be called gorgeous when she didn't make any effort into her appearance? Men simply did not function like that.

“You’re beautiful, Nesta. When you’re wearing that red satin dress or you’re in your work clothes or in your pajamas. Even in a fucking paper bag. You’re a beautiful woman,” Cassian whispered to her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He seemed to read her mind. Nesta was at a loss for words.

Then, he added, “Also, you’re incredibly fuckable.”

Nesta’s head snapped up to see if anyone heard but no one was looking their way.

“You think I forgot about our little game?” Cassian’s hand disappeared under the tablecloth and rested on Nesta’s thigh. “You think I’d give up that easy, sweetheart?”

Nesta grabbed her wine glass, trying to conceal the shakiness of her hand. She took a large gulp. And another one.

Cassian chuckled deeply in her ear. “You like when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?”

Nesta bit her lip as Cassian’s warm hand travelled further up her thigh, the thin layer of her leggings providing little to no barrier between their skin.

“I wonder what would happen when I talked to you like this - " His hand was just an inch away from her heated core “ - and touched you like this?”

Cassian’s hand cupped her, and Nesta barely held back her moan. Elain shot her an odd look, and that’s when Nesta jumped up and pushed herself from the table.

“I, uh… “ she stuttered as all her friends looked at her confusing outburst. “I forgot that I…  need to fix my toilet. I should go work on that.”

“Can’t that wait?” Feyre asked quizzically. She gestured to the chair. “Don’t worry about that now.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t notice anything wrong with the toilet,” Elain piped up, confusion riddled on her freckled face.

Nesta froze. Gods, this was not going well.

“I used it before we left and there’s definitely something wrong… uh, Cassian?” He looked up at where she stood. “Can you help me?”

He didn’t even hesitate (Gods bless him) as he got up and strode to her side. “Yeah, that sounds serious. Wouldn’t want the bathroom to flood.”

The pair stared at each other, entirely baffled at the horrible performance that they were somehow executing.

“Cassian doesn’t even know how - “

“Okay, bye. Thanks for dinner!” Nesta said loudly, dragging Cassian behind her before Azriel could finish his sentence.

They reached the hallway and let out a deep breath. Nesta looked at Cassian. Cassian looked back at her.

And they burst out laughing.

“Your toilet? ” Cassian choked out.

“I didn’t see you coming up with anything better!”

Their laughter died down and they remained just inches away in the hallway.

Nesta didn’t even have the time to process what was happening as Cassian crossed the short distance between them and backed Nesta into the wall.

“Fuck the game,” he growled roughly.

Cassian cupped her cheeks, tilted her chin, and crushed his lips against hers. Nesta moaned in response, gripping his long black hair to tug him closer. She wanted nothing more than for him to carry her into his apartment and fuck her until she could barely move.

Nesta felt Cassian smile against her lips, and the corners of her mouth lifted up. Cassian then gripped her thighs and wrapped them around his waist with ease. Nesta pulled herself into his chest and squeezed her legs around him. He growled into her mouth. They didn’t stop kissing.

“I win,” Nesta whispered as Cassian led her to his bed.

[tentendeservedbetter]

home is where my team is - Chapter 4

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Concentrate.

He swiftly hopped over a gigantic tree root on the path with ease, catching a better momentum through the uneven terrain made by the trees as he followed the white puppy that hopped alongside him.

Concentrate.

Kiba pushed his heel into the dirt once he reached flatter land between the trees, screeching to a halt, forcing Akamaru to stop a few centimeters ahead of him and looking back to him, waiting for Kiba to relay a command.

I gotta find her before the others do, Kiba thought as he inhaled sharply, twisting his head around. Her scent now muddles with the surrounding trees that he encountered as he reached deeper and deeper into the training grounds, away from the forest reached into his beige pack and pulled out the petal he took from the pile of Kurenai's petals that left behind.

The petal was real, alright. Kurenai said it was a Genjutsu - but does Genjutsu leave behind physical remnants?

Why didn’t Kiba pay attention to that section of class closely? The Academy teachers downplayed the art, saying it required specialized training to be able to be competent in the art, and he thinks he only had one Academy teacher who actually used Genjutsu, but only to demonstrate the effects.

Even that demonstration wouldn’t have prepared him for how Genjutsu would translate out in the shinobi world. The only thing Kiba remembered was how to expel a genjutsu when you were trapped in one and when a comrade had fallen for one; either you determining that you’re in a Genjutsu, expelling the illusion itelse, physically harm yourself forcing yourself out of the spell through pain, or a simple Tiger sign and concentrating the chakra to the tips of your index and middle fingers before tapping it on your fallen comrade’s forehead, disrupting their chakra flow and waking them up.

Without even thinking much of it, Genjutsu was complicated to use, going beyond his own abilities as a straight-from-the-Academy ninja, and much more complicated to understand compared to the two other arts.

The lectures they would have on Genjutsu always consisted of learning the ins and outs of the human brain and the nervous system, having to study systems within systems and how they were different from each other, and how Genjutsu works.

None of which Kiba absorbed, only remembering that the hippocampus had something to do with learning and it sounded really close to hippopotamus (which you have to admit, is a funny word), and Naruto must have cracked a joke about not having one in the middle of class and...

Can’t worry about the details now, Kiba thought as he lifted the pink petal up to his nose. I need to follow her scent.

Regardless of whether the petals were an after effect of Kurenai’s jutsu or not, Kiba knew one thing for sure; where there is something physical, there is a scent attached to it, and since the petals were from Kurenai, Kurenai must either smell like the flowers or vice versa.

Either way, it should link back to her.

It was like using the Substitution Jutsu; you substitute yourself with an object nearby, but your traces would still be on the item because you touched it yourself when you switched with the item.

Makes sense right?

Kiba won’t claim that he’s exceptional with his sense of smell compared to others within his clan, no, he still had a long way to go before he can have the type of chakra control they had, with a longer range and a stronger sense of smell, but he knew how to pick apart various overlapping scents, given that he had a guide that would enable him to pick up the scent he wanted to follow.

And with these petals that were found, they had a scent that led down a specific path; almost like a single invisible string connecting between the petals towards the Training Ground 1, the training ground closest to the Hokage Rock. The petals were similar to cherry blossoms, yet their scent was more like a garden of roses from what he could discern. Maybe there was more to it that he couldn’t determine at the moment, but the rosy scent was evident and stood out against the various scents found in the training ground, from the dirt underneath their sandals to the various trees that populated the land.

“Alright Akamaru,” Kiba said, squatting and holding the petal towards. Even if he managed to lose her scent, Akamaru had a sharper nose, being an actual dog and all, so if Kiba's underdeveloped sense of smell leads them astray or he can’t capture the scent anymore, Akamaru would be able to take the lead.

That’s what ninken - ninja hounds - were mostly used for, after all; they’re an asset for any ninja, especially for any ninja specializing in tracking. And with the Inuzuka clan, tracking is a must-have skill that all shinobi within the clan must possess.

That and, well, the ability to assault an enemy with said ninken.

Hopefully Kiba would be able to demonstrate his and Akamaru’s teamwork together; they may not have had that much time developing their ninja skills together, but Akamaru listened to Kiba and knew how he moved, which was more than enough at the moment.

“I got her scent, Master!” Akamaru barked, wagging his tail as he lifted his nose further through the trees to their left, further away from the river that broke through the training ground they were in and further with the trees. Kiba could smell the roses going deeper that direction as well, and nodded, giving Akamaru an affirmative grin while patting his head.

“Good job,” Kiba said in a more direct and deeper voice, trying to stop himself from sounding like he was cooing at his puppy (even thought, dammit, Akamaru looked really cute when he got excited and happy over doing something right), before standing up, facing the direction Akamaru had pointed out. “Let’s go!”

With Akamaru taking the lead, Kiba followed him with equal speed. They continued through the trees until Kiba could see a clearing in the distance where they were heading, the rosy scent he had lost earlier becoming suddenly clear as they approached it.

“Akamaru, stop,” Kiba commanded as he quickly halted, letting out a low whistle immediately to get Akamaru’s attention when they were a few meters away from the clearing.

“Be ready for anything, boy,” Kiba continued, his voice dropping, as he reached to the pack that sat on his waist, feeling his way around it, making sure he had everything he needed.

Kunais? Check.

Shurikens? Check.

Smoke bombs? Check.

Paper bombs? Check.

The four main items that a shinobi must have at all times on them - also known, in his head, as: Keep Shit (together) and Smoke Paper (Bombs). Iruka had probably taught them a more appropriate mnemonics, but this was the only one that stuck in his brain.

He then reached to the blue holster wrapped around his right thigh, an easy access point for the most pertinent items he would need to defend himself, having at least one of each item inside. When he made sure he had everything set, he glanced down to Akamaru, who was waiting patiently for his next command.

“Alright Akamaru, you know what we have to do,” Kiba replied. “She probably has that headband tight on her forehead, so we’re going to have to pull it all the way back. You think you can yank it off with one pull?”

“Yessir!” Akamaru barked with intense determination, sitting down and staring at Kiba with intent as Kiba explained their plan of action.

He wasn’t as a rash as he may appear to be- he knew that in order to achieve your goal, you have to have a complete plan to back it up. You especially needed to make sure everyone in your team knew what their job is.

And his team right now is himself and Akamaru.

“Alright...I’m counting on you buddy,” Kiba finished up as he lifted up his hand towards Akamaru in a high-five. Akamaru immediately tapped his hand with his own paw, his soft, padded soles light and small against Kiba’s palm.

C-Cute, the thought slipped into his mind for a moment, feeling his hand gravitating towards Akamaru’s head, fingers itching to pet him, but he held himself back. He shouldn’t be praising Akamaru too much. Kiba is trying to be a full-fledged shinobi; and a shinobi are not the coddling type, no sirree.

And he will especially not coddle his ninken, who’s supposed to obey what he has to say to begin with.

...okay maybe this once, Kiba finally thought, giving in and gave Akamaru a quick ruffle on his head, receiving a happy whine from his ninken as he closed his eyes, enjoying the massage.

“Let’s go,” Kiba said as he retracted his hand, standing up quickly as Akamaru barked a ‘yessir!’.

They silently walked towards the clearing, each step cautiously avoiding any twigs and leaves that would make any sort of sharp sound that would indicate they were nearby. The closer they got towards the last set of trees before the clearing, the louder Kiba could hear his heartbeat against his chest.

He wasn’t nervous, no way! ...Well, maybe a little, he never had to actually fight like this before, those sparring matches at the Academy definitely didn’t help...No, wait he can’t think this way! A shinobi should never be nervous! He just needed to calm down- just take a deep breath and focus on his objective...forget about the shame of returning to the Academy, if he comes home after failing an important test like this, imagine how hard his Mom would kick his ass in front of the whole neighbourhood! She’d be more strict than she already was, he didn’t need to have her on his case more than she already was! There’s no way he’s gonna go back to being treated as some little runt who had to be watched over and babied, no way-

“You found me.”

Kiba felt his heart skip a beat as he stared directly to the source of the voice, to find Kurenai standing on the opposite side of the clearing, her jet black hair and deep red dress sticking out like a sore thumb against the green around them.

Kurenai seemed to have been waiting by the tree just for Kiba to make his appearance. She stood up straight as she usually does, arms crossed over her chest, her hands empty - no kunai, no shuriken.

She just stood there.

Kiba’s eyes shifted around the clearing quickly, looking from the flat, ground relatively worn down, likely from the amount of people training on this surface, trying to look for anything that could tip off that it was a trap; some invisible thread, that might trigger a net trap and hoist both him and Akamaru up off from the ground and swinging on a tree branch. Or, maybe some dirt that looked freshly patted back on, hiding a deep hole in the ground.

“Kiba Inuzuka, was it?” Kurenai’s smooth voice broke through the silence, still standing straight, barely moving an inch as Kiba approached her. He stopped a few good meters away to allow him to see her and her immediate area. She paused as the wind started to blow sharply against his left cheek, her long black tresses swaying to the left. “From the great Inuzuka clan.”

“Damn right I am,” Kiba grinned at the mention of his clan, a sense of pride swelling in his chest, his voice loud and confident.

“And you’re Hana Inuzuka’s younger brother, correct?” Kurenai continued without missing a beat, unbothered by his confidence, watching him carefully. Kiba could feel the atmosphere still for a moment at the mention of his sister’s name, almost out of the blue.

“Yeah, I am,” Kiba replied, now a bit forceful with his words, trying not to appear hesitant at her question as he maintained his fighting stance. “What about it.”

“I’ve worked with her before,” Kurenai said, eyes never leaving the young boy. “She’s quite a brilliant girl; incredibly perceptive, amazing tracking abilities...I was surprised when she decided to pursue being a medic- a veterinarian at that- but, that job requires incredible finesse in many skills, so her abilities aren’t going to waste.”

“She does what she wants to do,” Kiba said courtly, squinting his eyes slightly, scanning around Kurenai, trying to discern anything out of the ordinary.

“Your clan is indispensable to Konoha; and those within your family have quite the presence within the shinobi force,” Kurenai continued with a soft smile. “I wonder if you’ll live up to their precedence.”

Kurenai lifted her arms with a quick motion, triggering Kiba to pull out a shuriken from his blue holster, holding it tightly in his right hand in front of him, positioning himself. Kurenai had her hands in front of her and quickly started to create hand signs, so fast that Kiba would have missed the sequence if he had blinked for a second too long.

Tiger. Boar. Ox. Dog.

A clone jutsu? Figures started to cleave out of Kurenai’s body, smoke appearing as clouds in front of them and as it slowly started to settle, revealing three Kurenais in a line, taking a slight forward leaning stance. Kiba's eyes trailed down, noticing her legs barely splitting far enough to take a proper stance in her dress, an arm in front of her chest, while the other arm was extended, parallel over her leg that was placed forward.

How is she going to fight like that? He never saw his mother or sister wearing a dress when they left for work, opting for the typical dark cargo pants and maybe the standard navy blue long sleeve shirt, with the spiral symbols on the side.

“Your Academy profile said that your strong suit was Taijutsu,” all three Kurenai replied, synchronically waving the hand that was outstretched, beckoning him to come towards her. “And you even said it yourself yesterday. Now...let’s see what you got.”

“Akamaru, to your left,” Kiba ordered immediately as all three Kurenais started to rush in towards him, one straight through the middle, while the other two looped around. Akamaru let out a bark of acknowledgment, already digging his paws into the ground, ready to pounce.

I already know that clones are useless and they can’t do anything, Kiba thought, glancing to the left. “So…”

Kiba stepped back as he did a roundhouse kick with his right leg to one of the Kurenais, who didn’t bother moving out of the way and dissipated as his leg swung through, flicking his right wrist to send the shuriken in his right hand flying straight towards the Kurenai heading towards him.

The centre Kurenai produced a kunai in her hand, slipping out of her left sleeve, and used it to deflect the shuriken away, sending it rocking towards the side and onto the ground.

So she’s the real one! Kiba thought, as he pulled out a kunai from his blue leg holster, throwing it so it landed a meter before Kurenai, slightly to the right of her running projection from his perspective.

“You missed,” Kurenai said, continuing to run, never straying from her path.

Kiba smirked at this, a crooked smirk with his fangs bearing, saying with a scoff, “No I didn’t.”

A hiss emitted from the spot that his kunai had just landed, the smell of burning paper suddenly infiltrated the air. Light grey smoke formed strings wafting upwards towards the atmosphere from the kunai, and if you looked closely, there was a piece of paper, the size of his hand with red borders, flapping around as it was slowly being eaten by a flame.

Kiba bent backwards, pushing his hands off the ground hard to get further back from the kunai’s site, taking a stance as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, bracing himself. Kurenai quickly halted to a stop, looking straight at the kunai, piercing eyes glancing at the kunai as she side-stepped to the left, but it was too small of a step to escape from the blast zone.

A flash of bright white light engulfed the surrounding ground, before a loud blast emitted, the heavy sounds of crumbling dirt and debris being pushed out and haphazardly slamming the ground, the shrubs, the trees. Big puffs of brown dust had engulfed the smoke, slanting and drifting with the direction of the wind.

Did we get her? Kiba thought, eyebrows furrowed as he wafted away the dust that had made its way towards him, shifting his eyes around as he blinked a few times. The sound of something skidding across the ground could be heard for a moment, before Kiba could see Kurenai emerge from the smoke, sliding directly opposite to where the bomb exploded, a hand on the ground to hasten her stop.

The dust started to settle more than before, and Kiba can see how scuffed her dress looked now with a layer of dust covering over it, the edges of the white stripes that zig zagged across her body looking frayed, stinging from the bomb. The explosion didn’t seem to have left much damage to her, though, just making her look like she rolled across the ground, her skin unscathed.

Once she stopped, Kurenai let out a hasty sigh, and looked up towards Kiba, who watched her for a moment. Her face was no longer the calm one that she had on earlier; her eyebrows were pulled in slightly, her eyes narrower.

Now she’ll take him seriously.

“That was a close one,” she said, maintaining her cool tone. “I admit, I underestimated your ability to strategize. If I had hesitated, I would’ve gotten hurt just now. Good thing your plan didn’t work-”

“That wasn’t my plan to begin with.”

Kiba didn’t think twice- he quickly put his thumb and index finger into his mouth, pushing it to the sides and onto his tongue as he let out a sharp whistle. Kurenai stared at him, eyes widening as she glanced around. There was a quick rasping sound that started to get louder.

CHE-CHE-CHE-CHE.

“What the-” Kurenai let out a gasp when she glanced towards the ground around her, the sounds from there, and before she could step away in time, the dirt beneath her crumpled and collapsed, crashing deeper into the earth.

Half a meter away from her, something bursted out from underneath the ground, a small figure popping out, it’s white fur covered in a layer of brown dirt.

“Akamaru!” Kiba cheered as the small figure that had popped out of the ground let out a bark in confirmation, shaking his body quickly to dissipate the dirt off his coat.

Kurenai’s feet disappeared into the ground, then her legs, her torso, until the tip of her black hair disappeared, a loud thump being emitted right afterwards and a grunt following suit.

“Alright!” Kiba continued victoriously, clenching his fist as he punched the air, running towards where Akamaru stood. “You did it, buddy!”

“Just as you planned!” Akamaru barked, panting as Kiba gave him a pat on the head.

And he was right. Kiba wasn’t trying to hurt Kurenai at all with that paper bomb. They didn’t want to fight.

The name of the game was to get the headband. While displaying his physical prowess would be on the top of his list of things to show off to his teacher, it wouldn’t matter how good he was unless he got that damn headband off her head.

Kiba’s eyes strayed from his face to the tip of Akamaru’s nose, the dirt still stuck, before continuing down to his paws. Some parts of Akamaru’s nails had chipped from digging into the soil, the hard dirt leaving scratches on what's left.

“I’ll make sure we get all that dirt out of your nails and everything tonight, alright boy?”

"Alright!" Akamaru barked, and Kiba started towards the hole, a kunai his hand, ready to get the headband from Kurenai.

He peered through the hole to find Kurenai sitting on the ground, and he grinned as he called out, "I guess that means I win sensei! Now if you don't mind, I'll be taking that headband of yours!"

Kurenai stared back up at him, saying nothing at first. Kiba could see, however, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and before he could say anything, white smoke emerged out of Kurenai's body, engulfing her.

A clone? Kiba though in disbelief, watching as the puffs of white smoke started to settle to the ground. In the place where Kurenai had just sat in was now a log about his size. No…A substitution jutsu!

“You really are full of surprises,” a voice hummed from behind him, so close to his body that he jolted forward, strangling the small yelp that was about to escape his mouth from being spooked so suddenly.

He didn’t have time to think- a new rush of adrenaline surged through his body, his heart beating quickly as he twisted his head back around, before spinning his whole body back with his heels, swinging a hooked punch directly towards Kurenai. Unwittingly, despite his reactionary swing being fast, his fist was caught by and hit a bandaged hand, causing a surge of back that held onto his fist, squeezing it hard suddenly as her sharp, red finger dug into the back of his hand, cutting into his skin, a sharp pain coming

Kiba lifted his leg, kicking downwards at an angle towards Kurenai’s shin, forcing her to step to the side, as he did a high back kick to where she stood. She quickly let go of his fist, jumping back to avoid his heel to her chin. 

Gotta push her back and make her waste her energy! Kiba thought as he felt his breathing hitch up as he threw a punch, rotating his hip to maximize its force as Kurenai rotated her body sideways, his fist barely touching her stomach. He managed to take a step forward, making his body face towards her, and did an uppercut punch with his other hand towards her chin, however, Kurenai reacted quickly and stepped backwards, away from him.

“You’re using your fists,” Kurenai noted while she took a step back. “I thought your clan likes to gouge their enemies?”

“You want me to fight like that?” Kiba growled as he loosened his fists immediately. “I’ll fight like that!”

He flexed the top parts of his fingers in, as he swiped out across Kurenai’s face as she blocked it with an arm. His clan’s fighting style - Juujin Taijutsu or Man Beast Technique - was the Inuzuka technique that was known for being.. well...more ferocious and wild compared to other fighting styles. They continued to spar as Kiba continued to swipe his hand around, trying to claw at Kurenai, but she was too fast - she either dodged or blocked, circling around him to avoid getting hit.

He could feel his arms starting to ache slightly, the lactic acid building up and making his muscles feel stiff. There was a sharp cramp in his stomach, but he had to break Kurenai down.

“Akamaru, jump!” Kiba commanded.

“On it!”

He can feel the light step of Akamaru’s paws jumped on top of Kiba’s shoulder and running along his extended arm towards Kurenai, mouth open, fangs baring. Akamaru did a quick snap of the teeth against the side of her headband, ripping it off her forehead and yanking it through her hair, making her head snap back from the force of his bite.

“Nice one Akamaru!” Kiba said as he pulled away, Kurenai stumbled backwards from being tugged back, but planted her feet quickly and maintained her stance.

“Alright!” Kiba whooped, punching the air triumphantly as Akamaru bounced up and down around his feet. “We got it! We passed the test!”

“Yay!” Akamaru yipped with excitement. Kiba glanced down to his companion, grinning, and gave a satisfied pat on his head.

Alright! Now time to take the prize-

“You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

Kiba felt his heart skip suddenly, the atmosphere frozen at the coldness of her voice, distant and an echo. Kiba glanced back towards her, her torso bent forward as she stood up, facing his direction, her long black tresses covering her face. She stood up straight as she ran a bandaged hand through the middle of her hair, pushing it aside.

"What are you on about-"

“The flower petal,” Kurenai replied, barely moving an inch as her eyes trailed down to his pack. “You used it to find me, didn’t you?”

“What d’ya mean?” Kiba snapped back immediately, not understanding as he followed her gaze and glanced down. Kurenai’s silent stare made his hand slip into the pack hesitantly.

A glitch jolted through the pink petal within a fraction of a second, breaking the petal in half, before it dissolved and dissipated into his hand, disappearing without a trace.

“What the-” Kiba gasped as he lifted his hand up to his eye level, squeezing his fingers against his palm as he opened and closed it a few times, flipping his palm down to look at the back of his hand. “Where’d it go!”

“Master, the headband!” Akamaru exclaimed quickly, making Kiba whip his head back down towards his other hand that held Kurenai’s headband. He stared with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open in shock as the handband started to have jolts of empty space punctured along the headband, before becoming fuzzy and melting into his hand, leaving no traces of its behind.

“What the hell!? What’s going on?”

“I thought you would at least figure it out by now,” Kurenai replied, her voice light and airy, as if genuinely mystified by Kiba’s behaviour. “I even left a hint before we fought-”

“What hint?! What are you on about!” Kiba barked back, feeling a combination of annoyed and confused anger at what was happening before his eyes.

“...Your teammate, Shino,” Kurenai continued cautiously, and Kiba could feel his teeth grinding at the mention of his teammate. “Figured out they weren’t real immediately. Before we began, I did mention that everything was a genjutsu, after all.”

A..a genjutsu?

“So...am I even in the training grounds,” Kiba replied hesitantly. “Or am I...still at the Hokage Rock? No wait, but...everything felt normal until I got here...it was the usual distance...Hold on... wait I’m confused...shit-”

“Language,” Kurenai interrupted, eyebrows pulling in slightly. “This is something they taught you in class. Genjutsu is all about manipulation. Sometimes, it’s the little things...the things you think are there, but are actually not there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Kurenai continued, her face softening slightly. “I’ll leave you alone for now. But next time we face each other...I won’t be so easy on you. Think before you move.”

With that, Kurenai disappeared into the backdrop, leaving not a single trace of her behind as Kiba watched with wide eyes and gritted teeth.

He was confused.

And he was pissed off.

How did he manage to get himself into a genjutsu? When did he get himself into a genjutsu?

Kiba lifted his left hand up, grimacing, inhaling deeply.

He closed his eyes, to prevent his mind psyching himself out. Drawing a kunai from his pack with his right hand, he placed his left palm to face sideways, and quickly pushed the sharp tip of the kunai in, beyond the epidermis into the tissue, a sharp pain immediately following as gushes of blood slowly leaking from the parameter of the kunai, down to his wrist.

His eyes shot open as he immediately sat up with a sharp breath, wincing while pulling the kunai out of his palm. All the endurance training, physical and mental, during his Academy years and his mom’s ass kicking might have helped him with his higher pain tolerance, making the pain comparable to a slight sting, but the action of stabbing himself made him cringe in slight fright - it’s something he still needs to work on.

“Dammit,” Kiba muttered as he quickly scrunched his bleeding palm against his sleeve, putting a slight pressure against it, trying to stop the bleeding. He was sure he didn’t push too deep and hit any veins, but he didn’t want to lose more blood than he needed too. And he especially did not need to get an infection from having an open wound - he would never hear the end of it for both his mom and sister.

He levelled out his breathing, glancing around. He was alone in the same place where he was with Kurenai before - the same landing, the same ground, the same trees…everything was in place except for Kurenai’s presence.

He sniffed, concentrating on trying to capture Kurenai’s scent- but all that he could smell were the trees around him, the green leaves and the water from a stream nearby where he sat. The rosy scent was nothing more than a memory, barely a trace in the air.

But how?

A scent never disappears. Even if you cover it up, there will always be a trail that is left behind…

From the corner of his eyes he could see a small, tuff of white curled up beside, and he glanced down to find Akamaru, eyes closed, sound asleep under the genjutsu Kurenai had placed on them.

“Akamaru, wake up,” Kiba croaked out, tapping the puppy with his non bleeding hand, but Akamaru kept snoring away, barely reacting to Kiba’s touch. Kiba had to use pain to bypass the genjutsu and escape it; if it can be avoided, he could also disturb the genjutsu if he pulsed a bit of his chakra into the affected person's...or, in this case, dog's...chakra system.

Letting go off the pressure on his hand, Kiba lifted both hands up in front of him, intertwining both of his ring and baby fingers together, leaving his middle, index, and thumb to press together, as he concentrated his chakra to flow towards his hands. At least he picked up something from his lessons that he could use.

Kai! He tapped his right fingers over Akamaru’s forehead.

“What happened?” Akamaru asked with a light bark, moving his head around, surveying the area around them. “Where is Kurenai-sensei?”

“We got trapped in her genjutsu,” Kiba replied, crossing his arms, his eyebrows automatically pulled in as he replayed everything that had happened, from the moment Kurenai disappeared while they were on top of the Hokage Rock all the way until he came down to the Training Grounds and supposedly confronted her.

A genjutsu within a genjutsu…

It all started with those petals...Touching had triggered the genjutsu to start and lead him down to Training Ground 1...but those were definitely not real, they were illusions, so how was he able to follow the scent?

What did Iruka-sensei teach us, Kiba scrunched up his face as he recollected his memories, shifting through all the classes he sat in, all those times he sat in those goddamned uncomfortable benches. Think...Think…

“Besides taijutsu and ninjutsu, another ninja art that a shinobi must learn and understand is genjutsu. Learning genjutsu is quite hard compared to the other two arts, though; it requires time and practice. At the Academy, we won’t teach you any genjutsus, but we still want you to know what it is and how to prepare for it, ” Iruka’s voice rang into Kiba's mind, as he tried to recollect his teacher's words. They were in class, just like any other day at the Academy; though it was at the beginning of his shinobi Academy years and they were covering basic theory about the different shinobi arts. “First, we need to understand what Genjutsu means. It literally means ‘Illusionary Technique’- therefore, we can refer to it as the Art of Illusion.”

He remembered Iruka walking towards the board, notes in hand as he picked up a piece of chalk and started to write on the chalkboard, writing down the symbols of the word and his short definition. Iruka then turned towards the class, and continued.

“Illusions. What is the definition of illusions?”

“Illusions are things that you think are there but are not actually there. Like a mirage; it’s an optical illusion that is created by refraction of light from the sky when it’s really hot,” a different voice piped up further away from where Kiba sat, closer to the front row, a girl’s voice...it must have been Sakura Haruno, his pink haired classmate; she was always the first one to raise her hand. Smart girl, for sure, but man, was she annoying as hell.

“That’s correct, Sakura,” Iruka said with a smile. “But there is a key component that you are missing. That definition implies that it’s only illusions that we are able to see that can occur; but that’s not accurate.”

Iruka quickly jotted a word on the board that Kiba couldn’t bring himself to remember, before etching 5 lines branching out of the word he wrote, jotting down a word by each of these lines.

“I want you guys to remember this: illusions are anything that can be perceived wrong by ⬛⬛⬛⬛,” Iruka said as he returned to face the class, the words barely reaching Kiba’s ears, as Iruka tapped underneath the word that was centred between the lines. “⬛⬛⬛⬛ are manipulated and influenced by Genjutsu, either together or separately. Now, we’ll get into the intricacies of how exactly genjutsu affects our bodies. I assume you all read the assigned readings? All of this and the readings are a part of your first test, after all.”

Grumbled responses filled immediately out, as students shuffled around to pick out their notebooks and textbooks, Kiba kept staring at the board, already having everything out but not bothering to write it down, knowing that he would just cram everything and purge out the memory of Genjutsu by the time he left the Academy. Like Iruka said, they had to know about it, but how useful is it if most shinobi don’t use it?

He was such an idiot. Why didn’t he write any of this down? He remembers cramming for this test but...the moment he finished the test and handed it in, his head went back to being empty and blank.

Genjutsu is the art of illusion, Kiba repeated in his head. And illusions are anything that can be perceived wrong by...by what? Was it...was it senses?

It sounded right. Optical illusions, like a mirage, are what affects your sight and your other senses.

“She said she gave me a hint before we started fighting,” Kiba muttered to himself. “What was it?"

He looked around at his surroundings. A gust of wind, cold and dry, came through, hitting Kiba on his left cheek once again, making his head turn away slightly like he had to do earlier…

Her hair blew to my left, Kiba realised, remembering the way Kurenai’s hair sway. But the wind…

An optical illusion. That should’ve hinted that he was in her genjutsu immediately. How could he not realise that something was off right away?! Looking back at it, it was obviously an error in what he saw- how could he let that slide?!

Alright, but those are not the only senses humans have, Kiba continued his train of thought.

Sight is a major sense, for sure, but there’s also sound, touch, taste…and...

Smell.

And if Genjutsu can affect them all together or separately...

“Nooo,” Kiba groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, scrunching up his face.

“What’s wrong?” Akamaru asked, pushing off the ground with his two front legs, balancing on his two rear legs, setting his front paws on top of Kiba’s bare knees, the soft padding of his soles bringing little comfort to Kiba at the moment.

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to smell her out that easily, boy,” Kiba said with a huff, glancing up. “The flower petal wasn’t the only thing she manipulated. The scent from the smell and associating it with her...that was part of the manipulation. Makes sense...that petal was a cherry blossom but it smelled like roses…The moment the petal left, so did the scent...”

And if she can manipulate her smell, that means she can easily mislead us and push us away from her, Kiba thought, lifting himself off of the ground, staggering slightly. This is going to be harder than I thought it was gonna be, dammit!

He glanced up to the sky, the sun rising further up, brightening the sky further revealing bluer shades, higher than where it had stood when he left. An hour must have passed since this test started. That means he only has four hours left to find Kurenai, take her headband, and officially be inaugurated as a shinobi like he should be.

But the question is… how is he going to find her?

He's back at square one - he doesn’t have a piece of clothing from her or even a strand of hair; the whole fight occurred in a genjutsu. That Kurenai was far from real, and she was probably watching and controlling the illusion play out from a distance.

For all Kiba knows, she could have left as soon as she set up the genjutsu within the genjutsu...man, this the most he’s actually thought about the word genjutsu before.

“Shit...Shit, what am I gonna do now?” Kiba kicked the dirt with the toe of his sandal, trying not to let his annoyance and anger get the best of him, trying to rack his brain for a solution to this entire mess.

He knew he was wasting time; he probably lost an hour already from getting caught in that genjutsu, from the way the sun was sitting in the sky, and with every second he stands there

Akamaru was sniffing the air, his tail wagging excitedly as he started panting, as he bounced around on his paws, barking, "Master! Master! I smell someone!"

"Who is it, Akamaru?"

"Hinata!" Akamaru barked cheerfully, glancing up to him with excited eyes. "She's in the training grounds!"

"She is?" Kiba asked, lifting his head, sharply inhaling, trying to discern through any of the scents, but he didn’t necessarily know what scent he was looking for. Everything was melding together, a hodgepodge of deep, green, pine bark and moist dirt and dewed grass....He couldn’t catch anything out of place that would indicate that a person was anywhere nearby.

Everything has a scent. Everyone has a scent. That doesn’t mean, however, that Kiba was familiar with all the scents in the world.

And especially not another person’s scent.

Being Hinata’s classmate from a young age, he had a lingering notion of what she would smelled like- but it was not enough for him to recognize it instantaneously compared to how he’s able to recognize his friends’ scent, and it was definitely not enough for him to find it amongst all these other scents around him. He would need something that belonged to her with her scent, like her jacket to have a temporary sense of her smell.

But for him to really understand someone’s scent, to really etch it into your memory, well...it’s more intimate than that.

Hopefully it doesn’t get to that point with them, though.

“Where is she?” Kiba continued to Akamaru, his tongue sticking out, waiting for Kiba’s next command. “How far is she?”

Akamaru circled around a bit as he continued to sniff the air, closing his eyes slightly as he paused for a few seconds, before he sat down, his head facing straight, saying, “She’s on the edge of the area that way. About...2 km away!”

No wonder I couldn’t smell her, Kiba thought, scrunching up his nose slightly. As much as he is embarrassed to admit it, his range in scents is not as mature as it could be...he’s been trying to expand it the past year, but there’s only so many ways to expand one’s sense of smell when you were already familiar with your surroundings and nothing new really shows up to force you to focus.

I can’t let them know that though, Kiba shook his head. He can’t let that distract him. He needs to find Kurenai as soon as he can and get that damn headband off her head!

“Master! I think there’s someone else there!” Akamaru spoke up after a few moments. “There’s an unfamiliar scent in the same direction as Hinata!”

“Unfamiliar scent?” Kiba repeated, piercing eyes widening for a moment as he stared towards the direction that Akamaru was looking at. That must be...

Kiba stared at the trees before him for a moment; judging by how the sun had risen, he can only assume that the dense forest before him would lead them towards the direction of the wall that surrounded the village. Hinata should be directly across from where he was standing...maybe a bit further in, considering how much time he must have spent in that genjutsu.

“They seem to be staying in one place!” Akamaru continued, waiting patiently for Kiba’s next move. “What should we do next?”

Kiba pondered this for a moment, his gaze returning to the ground. What should he do...Should he just follow through and go to where Hinata is? What if he has to fight Hinata for the headband...Well it’s not like he’s worried about wrestling the headband out of her hand.

And it is not like standing around here, thinking too hard about what he should do, is going to make Kurenai come to him- the goal of this game is to hunt her down, no matter what.

Kiba took a step towards Akamaru, determination coursing through his body as he grinned at Akamaru. “We find them.”

She ran through the trees, not at the usual full speed that she would normally take, but quick enough to let her take in her surroundings and be alert for any changes in her environment that felt out of place.

I have to hurry...I have to find Kurenai-sensai and pass!

Hinata wasn’t sure how long she'd been running at this pace, but she knew she couldn’t stop anytime soon. Thankfully, Kiba told her which direction Kurenai was heading, and with that in mind, Hinata was able to make her way through Training Ground 1, using the tracking skills she used from the Academy to follow a clear cut path. Kurenai must’ve laid a few traps along the way- trip wires, nets, you name it- Hinata found a trail of them along the way, hidden by the grass and bushes, that she disarmed so it didn’t hurt anyone else who could have encountered them.

She thought of it as a sort of favour, she guessed, to the others. She knew that they were supposed to be her competition, her rivals in this little test to become a shinobi, but... Kiba didn’t have to tell them where she was. He could have kept it to himself, but he decided to tell Shino and her where Kurenai was heading, saving them time...

Maybe...maybe he’s not so scary after all… Hinata thought, stopped along her tracks at a small clearing between the trees, catching her breath for a while. It’s too bad we can’t be a team...Or, atleast, that’s what Kurenai-sensei said.

That’s all Hinata could really think about as she travelled through the grounds, trying to track Kurenai down, her words echoing in her head. Why would the Hokage put them into teams like this- carefully considering their skills, their backgrounds, their academic performance - only for Kurenai to tell them that she would only accept one? She did believe Kurenai’s words about being sent back to the Academy, and yet…

This felt counter to everything she was taught in the Academy. Throughout her years studying in elementary school and during the Shinobi Academy, there was an underlying emphasis for everyone to collaborate and work together, no matter what. Always trying to make things work, even if you were paired up with people you didn’t necessarily get along with (not that Hinata didn’t get along with anyone...but she wasn’t necessarily friends with anyone).

An elevated patch in the clearing in front of her drew her attention, the obvious height difference making it difficult to ignore. Hinata threw a kunai towards the elevated patch with as much force as she could muster in her arm, hitting it somewhere around the middle, and the patch collapsed from the weight of the kunai, folding into the emptiness inside.

Another trap? Hinata thought, as she carefully walked around. Kurenai must have set these up beforehand, but it was hard for Hinata to believe that Kurenai would actually take the time to dig up so many holes in the ground...

From the fresh dirt pebbles that strayed further ahead beyond the hole, Hinata assumed that Kurenai must have headed even further into the training grounds in the directions the dirt led. For a Jonin, Kurenai was pretty sloppy, in Hinata’s humble opinion...or she must have wanted Hinata to find her to begin with.

Regardless, from this point on, Hinata sensed that she had to be even more careful than before. She pulled out a kunai from her beige pack, holding it close to chin as she started to walk carefully through a pair of bushes. She could see more light coming from beyond a few trees ahead; indicating a larger clearing was nearby. Running water, bubbling and splashing rocks, could be heard distantly as she started to make her way towards the tree; she must have been near the edge of the grounds, where it laid against the wall that guarded the Village. The river fed through from the outside land, carrying fresh water and little minnows along the way, and was a place that she had seen a few students playing hooky when they were practicing their tracking skills.

As she started to reach the open landing, she caught a scent in the air that came out of nowhere, a heavy rosy perfume that filled her nostrils, and she could feel her breath hitch as she paused momentarily. Hinata continued, cautiously, quietly, and she squatted and crawled behind a few bushes when she could see the clearing in its entirety.

There stood Kurenai, her red dress a stark contrast and making her an obvious target, standing as she stared off towards the river to Hinata’s right.

She had to think of a game plan. Quickly. What should she do? What can she do? Kurenai was right in front of her and hadn’t spotted Hinata as of yet...she has the element of surprise on her side. She needs to use that to her advantage!

I have smoke bombs...maybe I could throw it at her and come behind her...no, but it could make a sound if I threw it and would give where I am away… I know! Maybe I could throw a shuriken at an angle and it can come around like a boomerang and can somehow confuse her? No...I’m not really good at throwing shurikens in a straight line anyways, how would I angle it to come around...

The silence was getting the best of Hinata, as did her rising anxiety as she tried to formulate a plan.

She could feel her heart beating louder and louder with every shuffled step she took towards Kurenai, her ears and wrists throbbing from her blood pulsing through her veins. She subconsciously tightened her grip on her kunai, so tight that her hand started to shake slightly as it started to turn pale.

She can’t see me, Hinata told herself, taking a shallow breath. I just have to make sure I don’t make a sound-

SNAP!

Hinata froze as she looked down, biting down on her lip hard to stop herself from yelping at the sight of her foot stepping on a twig - a small, harmless twig. Kurenai’s head snapped immediately towards the direction Hinata stood, eyes immediately meeting hers, unwavering.

“Who’s there?” Kurenai asked, never moving a muscle. Hinata, slightly embarrassed by her amateur mistake, shuffled past the bush into the open landing, keeping the hand that held the kunai in the same place, except her grip was tighter.

“Hinata,” Kurenai said, her tone inflecting, slightly surprised to see the young Hyuuga. “You found me. That was pretty fast. How were you able to do it?”

“I-I-” Hinata stumbled over her words, glancing between Kurenai and the ground, feeling her blood running cold. She could feel Kurenai’s eyes drilling into her, watching her every movement, from the way her hand shakes slightly to the quiver of her lips as she tried to form words.

“If you keep holding your kunai like that, you’re going to drop it.”

Hinata forced herself to look up to stare back at Kurenai, directly into her eyes, flecked with gold specks along the brown of her irises-

Her irises...

"Your eyes," Hinata spoke suddenly, a bit too loudly for even herself, feeling her fingers around the hilt of the kunai loosening as she continued to stare. “Are not brown.”

Within a split second, the tips of Kurenai's lips flicked upwards, a soft smile, and their surroundings melded together, Kurenai disappearing into the surrounding spaces.

“I’m happy that you figured out the genjutsu,” Kurenai's voice came from behind Hinata, and she spun around immediately, keeping her guard up, but not moving immediately to her weapon pouch. Kurenai, red irises and all, walked from behind a tree and towards Hinata, keeping a fair distance as she stopped. “I can’t say that same about your teammate, though.”

“You already faced them?” Hinata asked. Of course, Hinata was already falling behind compared to her peers. How long has it been since the test started? An hour? Two hours? Regardless, Hinata took way longer than she should have to track Kurenai down- especially if she was supposed to be a part of a tracking team.

“One of them,” Kurenai said. “Kiba, I believe his name was. The one with the dog. But he got stuck in another one of my genjutsus, so I doubt he'll wake up anytime soon.”

Wake...up? Hinata repeated, feeling her heartbeat picking up pace, louder and louder, her imagination of what her other genjutsus could have entailed. This one was easy and light; it was a simple perspective illusion, a minute detail that didn’t lead into any sort of injury.

Or, atleast, Hinata was able to get out of it before she could have been injured.

“I know your clan specializes in a unique form of Taijutsu,” Kurenai said as she started to make a few hand signs. Hinata’s eyes automatically traced them, following them, but she was not able to recognize the sequence.

And she didn’t want to find out what it was.

In a split second, she threw the kunai towards Kurenai as a means to distract her, but Kurenai simply stepped aside, the metal whizzing past her at an alarming speed. Kurenai finalized the hand sign, and suddenly puffs of smoke started to surround her, making Hinata take a step back and squinting to peer through the smog.

Once the fog settles, Kurenai stands there with...a few other Kurenais?!

A clone jutsu! Hinata thought, as she took a horse stance, and arm up with the palm of her hand facing outwards, the other hand sitting against her hip and facing downwards, open, readying herself.

The Gentle Fist - the fighting style of her clan - required her to have a more open stance and use her palms and fingers instead of her fists to attack and that more grounded stances that they are usually taught. The Gentle Fist was advantageous with the Byakugan - being able to see the inner working of the chakra network enables her to see the points that would affect the person the most to disarm them, and the Gentle Fist works symbiotically with the Byakugan, making it a dangerous weapon in itself. It was safer for her to use this as well; the style allows for evading most taijutsu attacks. And she definitely needs it; she doesn’t know what kind of fighting style Kurenai uses and she needs to figure it out before she can even think of getting her headband.

“I want to see how good your taijutsu is,” all of the Kurenais, six to be exact, said in unison, taking on a stance with one arm forward and straight, the other one up and in a fist.

One of the Kurenais started to charge towards Hinata; an unusual strategy, usually shinobi would use the clones all at once to confuse the opponent. Hinata could only assume that this was a clone and the real Kurenai was testing her out to see how Hinata would react.

Kurenai came up to her and threw a direct punch, Hinata swinging her back leg around to dodge the move in a circular motion, without ever losing balance. She striked forward with the palm closest to her hip towards Kurenai’s shoulder, who bent backwards, narrowly missing the strike and taking a step back. Hinata kept striking as she stepped forward, finding a rhythm in her strikes as her movements became faster, Kurenai blocking and bending to dodge the attacks. There was a moment where Kurenai’s stomach was exposed, no arms covering the spot, and Hinata bent lower, striking Kurenai with the push of her palm.

Hinata expected the clone to disappear immediately into the palm of her hand, dissipating and phasing into the air, but instead the clones turned into a big puff of smoke, white and thick that floated down to the ground.

I-Illusions? Hinata thought as she spun around and threw a shuriken towards one of the Kurenai clones that came towards her while the others waited and watched. The shuriken hit the clone with a sharp tack to the throat, the clone falling to the ground before a big puff of smoke was released from the clone, engulfing it. Usually the Clone Jutsu would faze out, any objects easily being passed through, but this clone seemed to have a physical, material body.

Another clone appeared through the smoke of the first clone with a punch, Hinata pivoting just in time to avoid contact, before the clone started to throw a few punches at her, pushing her back as she tried to avoid the hits. The clone quickly dropped to the ground and hooked her leg around Hinata’s leg in the middle of her stepping back, sending Hinata’s body swinging upwards in midair, before falling to the ground with a loud THUD.

“Eugh!” Hinata cried out as she fell to the ground onto the side of her hip, a sharp pain stinging through her pelvic bone and muscles, quickly putting her arm up in order to cushion her head from hitting the ground hard.

Using one hand, she waited until a punch came towards her and she lifted her hand gently and guided the clone’s fist, following along the arm pushing it away from her, circumventing the pathway before forming an open knifed hand and karate chopped the clone’s neck as she stood up with a quick flick.

She didn’t think it was as strong of a cut, but it had an intense effect on the clone, and she could hear a thud as her hand connected with the neck, feeling flesh and bone, slightly warm. The clone, just like that last one she had hit, suddenly exploded into white smoke.

Hinata shuffled back further, taken aback from the contact, even more confused than before. What is this thing?

Horse. Tiger. Boar. Hare. Rat. Dog. Horse. Dog. Hare. Rat. Boar. Snake.

Byakugan!

A sudden burst of adrenaline surged through her body, her head tensing slightly as she felt her temples start to flex. She opened her eyes quickly, feeling a slight external release of chakra from her eyes, and her vision cleared as she saw the world, in what she would describe, with an extra layer of film over everything. The colours were the same- the same green trees and the same blue sky -, but she noticed all the fine details suddenly, everything sharpening and contrasting, and within that scope she saw a blue energy spilling out of the peoples in front of her.

A substitution jutsu? Hinata thought, but upon taking a deeper look, she was shocked at the sight that laid before her. All the clones had chakra inside of them, evenly divided, the blue liquid circling around their body, eclectic and sparking with the pace of a pump of the heart.

She has never seen clones having chakra, they were always blank inside; they weren’t supposed to be carrying any type of chakra actually. It’s how she would have been able to discern which Kurenai was the real one. Was this something that she didn't learn about at school?

She didn’t have time to critique the Leaf Village’s academic learning plan; another Kurenai came towards her and she stood up immediately, spared with it a bit before she struck the Kurenai clean in the stomach, right on one of the main chakra points, white smoke cascading around her hand. There were still three more Kurenai's left; two of which should be clones. But which ones were the fakes?

I can’t tell them apart at all! Hinata said as another Kurenai came towards her. She would just have to keep fighting until there was only one left. She continued to parry and spar with the Kurenais, and she could feel her movement starting to slow down, her strikes becoming weaker, and her resorting to circular dodges in order to evade an attack that could leave her in the hospital for a few days. Her hip that she fell on continued to sting, as did her legs from taking a horse stance and sparing for longer than she expected with the Byakugan.

Finally, she managed to strike the last clone, leaving only Kurenai standing.

“I have to admit, I underestimated you Hinata,” Kurenai said suddenly, as she stood up. “I didn’t think you’d be able to endure for this long.”

Hinata could start to feel her eyes becoming wearing, stinging slightly as tears started to form, forcing her to blink a few times. How long had she been using the Byakugan for? The longest she had been able to use the Byakugan continuously was for 5 minutes, and even then, her sight started to blur slightly and her eyes became hurt, forcing her to stop and rest. She must be at that point right now where she couldn’t maintain her Byakugan any longer- if she tries to go on, she might actually cause more harm than good to herself.

I can’t… Hinata started to blink her eyes rapidly, trying to keep her eyes focused, but her eyes became even more watery. I can’t keep it up!

She can feel the veins along her temples relaxing, the sight of the chakra system disappearing, as a pulsing headache started to form. Suddenly, she felt her knees buckle, and she became self aware of how sore her entire body felt. She rarely used the Byakugan while sparring an opponent; it was always test dummies that were set up in the courtyard, and even then, it was exhausting. And Kurenai was a tough opponent to fight against; this was nothing like the Academy fights at all. She did have hands-on practice with Neji during the last year, but he oftentimes went very easy on her while they practiced sparring, avoiding any type of serious injury to Hinata (obviously, Neji was forced to spar with her and not out of his own volition, she had heard her father order him to do so behind closed doors).

She overdid it, more than she intended to; she was careless and used the Byakugan for too long, and now she can barely move. Everything started to spin slightly, and she stumbled a bit forward, closing her eyes, trying to relax herself as she fell to the ground, exhaustion taking over.

Hinata heard footsteps coming towards her, and she mustered up the strength to open one of her eyes and saw Kurenai’s feet right in front of her.

Move...move... Hinata groaned, and tried to push herself up, but she heard Kurenai say, “I’m not going to hurt you...but for now just sleep.”

Hinata felt a wave drowsiness suddenly fall over her head, and before she could say anything, everything went black.

[the-writing-soldier]

Home

Summary: monachopsis = the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place

Words: 1,936

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Notes: so... I guess I’m back with an update after 5 years?

CHAPTER TWO - Part Two

Chapter One:  Part One, Part Two, Part Three Chapter Two: Part One

It takes him several moments to recognize his surroundings and acknowledge that the nightmare is over. So he looks at her, really looks at her, for the first time since he walked into her apartment. In the dim, blue lighting coming through the window, her skin appears thin and breakable. Her shoulders are hunched forward, bent by exhaustion, covered by a white shirt loosely fitted around her small figure. Her eyes, although tired, still seem to cut through the darkness in the room - diagnosing him. She looks young in this moment, so young, so faultless. She isn’t corrupted by the touch and sight of blood - not really, not in the ways he is.

She’s looking at him with those worried eyes and it makes something snap in his chest. She doesn’t see him for what he has been all these years - the experiment, the asset, the assassin. She’s looking at him like he’s human, like he has a choice. When she touches him it doesn’t hurt. Perhaps a part of him is still human, if she is able to see him that way.

A quiet sob escapes his lips without his permission. She shifts closer to him and holds both of his hands, her thumbs gently rubbing slow circles around his knuckles. Stubbornly, only his right hand felt the warmth of her touch. His vision starts to blur from the water pooling in his eyes, his breathing more laboured.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just me,” she whispers as she tries to meet his gaze. One of her hands rises up to his face leisurely, methodically. She brushes her fingers against his cheek so lightly that he thinks he imagined it at first. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, the stains on his shirt and the beads of sweat on his temples become clear. “You’re drenched. Let me get you a towel.”

“You’re coming back, right?” he asks breathlessly, avoiding her eyes. He only pulls away when she assures him she isn’t leaving. The thought of losing this scares him. He wraps his arms around himself and puts his head between his knees to calm down. He doesn’t know how much time passes by - every second feels like eternity.

She returns quickly, only to find him barely holding it together. She tells him that she’s here, that he’s not alone, a few times so he can be sure he heard her right. She runs her fingers slowly through his damp hair and waits for him to look up. When he does, she tries to smile encouragingly but there are tears glistening on his face and it almost makes her cry as well.

“Alright, I’m sorry, but you might want to take that shirt off,” she gulps, feeling her cheeks burning. He makes no effort to resist - he listens automatically, an instant reaction, too quick. She can’t keep up the smile. She asks if it’s okay, waits for him to nod, and then wipes his forehead gently with the edge of the towel. He leans into her touch as if he’s following a compass. He bases himself off of her - she’s his pillar, his reference point. She’s real and she’s tangibly closer than the contents of his nightmares.

He holds his breath when she reaches his neck, his shoulders. It’s a lot for him to take in - she touches him like she would a fragile object, and she looks at him like she’s losing faith the longer she stays near him. Being near him seems to drain the life out of her. The towel is soft. Whereas the outside world seems to be giving him a break for now, his insides continue to burn.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against her hand, his hair sticking to his forehead. His heart sinks in his chest when she traces his cheek with her thumb again. He tries to suppress the sobs but some still escape his lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispers breathlessly. He can’t look at her right now.

“It’s okay,” she assures him quietly, her voice light and clear amidst the turmoil in his head. Her hand moves up and touches his hair. “It was just a nightmare. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She doesn’t know what the apology is truly about. She can’t imagine the masses of black-clothed, puffy-eyed, nameless people who gather around fresh graves, who deserve and who own that apology. He has everything to be sorry for.

He shakes his head and more boiling tears fall down from his eyes. His shoulders hunch forward and his glance lowers under the weight of his private shame.

“No…” he whimpers. “No, it wasn’t.” The nightmare is real. It’s more than just a bad dream, more than a concoction of his sick mind - it happened. Everything he saw, the screaming, the bodies, the red-stained cement, it exists and it is real and he did it.

She hesitates for a split second, but she catches her breath and continues running her fingers through his hair. He lets himself hold onto her touch for a moment, but he eventually pulls away. He doesn’t miss her wariness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she sighs after she withdraws her hand. It’s a careful, tactical question. Her professional experience resurfaces like a wall of defence - that detachment, of which she used to be discreetly afraid, now becomes a hiding mechanism.

“No,” his voice is barely audible. “I can’t talk about it.” If he does, he’ll lose her. If he tells her, all of it becomes real in this corner of the world, her home, the warm place she shared with him for no ulterior motive. He can’t bring that kind of horror into this undisturbed place.

She sighs as she slowly reaches out to hold his hands again. He doesn’t have the strength to shift away from her - he needs her to root him into reality before the nightmare swallows him.

“It’s safe here. You’re safe,” she tells him as she goes back to tracing circles on his skin. “If you want to talk, you can, yeah?” But, if it comes down to it and she will need to tell somebody, get him proper help, can she go against his wishes? Is she prepared to deny him that privacy for the sake of his health?

He shakes his head again. More tears fall as though his own body is trying to drown him. I can’t talk about it. If I open my mouth, the horrors will never stop. But he can’t say that out loud.

“Tell me what you need,” she says, a tinge of despair in her voice. You cannot cry - be professional; if she wants to be of any use, she has to keep her shit together, at least until he calms down.

His head rises shyly, his eyes looking up to her from behind his tears as if to say help me, take it from me. He never wanted this. He just wants to rest, he just wants it to stop, all of it, everything. He just wants it all to be over.

“Please just stay with me,” is all he can manage to say, a frail and dying whisper against the deafening silence in the room. Another sob escapes his throat.

And so she does. She shifts so that she’s leaning against the pillows, sitting upright. She opens her arms, inviting him with an exhausted smile. She tilts her head slightly as she waits. He doesn’t bother glancing up to her anymore. He just leans into her, too sick and too tired to care what happens to him. He rests his head against her shoulder, making sure his left arm doesn’t touch her, melting beneath her hand as she fiddles with his hair.

She takes his right hand in her free one and drapes it over her abdomen - he doesn’t fight back. She rests her cheek against his head and he hides at the base of her neck again, comforted. The tightness in his chest deepens beneath the shy kisses she plants at the top of his head. The storm outside quiets down to a soft rumble. The world grows still again as his pulse gradually slows down. Her hair is soft against his forehead and it smells lightly like vanilla - it makes him think of a bakery and the laughter of a young boy from Brooklyn, with golden hair and eyes blue like ocean water.

“Sometimes, when I get bad nightmares, I get up and I write them down,” she begins softly, her voice cracking and slurring under exhaustion. “I keep a little notebook by my bed,” she laughs quietly, more for herself than for him. His eyes are open halfway as he listens to her patiently. “And then, in the morning, I read about what I dreamt and it feels surreal. Nightmares just have a way to force you to sit and watch and experience all of it…” she sighs and she kisses the top of his head again, causing a wave of ache to squeeze his heart. “But in the morning, when I read the things I wrote, it becomes easier to deal with them.”

He shifts his arm and wraps it lightly around her waist. He tries to lie to himself, to convince himself that he can feel that way too - that writing about his dreams and seeing the absurdity with rested eyes will make them easier to handle. He just wants to sleep peacefully again - just for a few minutes.

“When I have nightmares, they’re usually about what I see at work,” she continues, her voice growing softer, sweeter. There are tears stinging her eyes but she holds them back. “I dream about the things I see, the people I couldn’t save, the people whose hearts I have to break.”

Her nightmares are memories too. He longs to do something for her, but he doesn’t know how to fix things. Everything he touches dies.

“I tell myself that, if I see them in my dreams, I’m remembering them. And by remembering them, they don’t just become a patient, a number, or a church service… They were real and they lived, and I lived along with them.” Tears run shyly down her cheeks. The arm around her waist tightens around her, grounding her in this moment.

They were real and they lived, and he lived along with them. His hands claimed lives, but he lived, somewhere in the back of his head, and felt their pain and screamed until his throat was on fire. He lived, even if he was a prisoner in his own mind.

“And no matter how many times I feel like I deserve to die with them,” she adds, with a tremor in her voice. The pit in his stomach is so deep it’s hitting his spine. “I get out of bed in the morning because I am more than the people I couldn’t save.”

I am more than the people who died because of me. I am more than what they forced me to be. I am more than a victim and I am more than a weapon. I am more than the people I have killed and I am more than the people I have killed for.

His lips hover gently above her collarbone. He closes his eyes, a few shy tears still escaping, but his heart has quieted down now. He stops focusing on anything particular, listening only to her voice, her heartbeat, and the sound of the rain.

That was the first time he fell asleep without a nightmare.

_____________________________________________________________________

This was my tagging list from years ago so if you want to be added/removed please let me know.

tagging list:  @cvptainbvcky @avengermama @buckysteetime @fellonblackswan @britishrogue24 @spocksandsandals @civilwars @jarnesbrnes @jamesbarns @buckyywiththegoodhair

[andaxay]

Preservation of Self

My entry for February’s @telltalemonthlychallenge. February’s theme: Black History Month.

Hyperion has been cutthroat since the day she accepted the offer of employment. Yvette does what she thinks she needs to. To thrive. To survive.

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One last coffee before they left.

Secreted away in a quiet room, away from prying eyes that would question why Vaughn the mild-mannered accountant had an important looking Hyperion briefcase chained to his arm. Best to avoid such questions.

"You're really doing this?" Yvette wrapped one slender leg around the other as she sat, sipping a latte, looking from one best friend to another with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

"Oh, we are doing this," Rhys leaned forward with a smug smile and raised eyebrow. Vaughn rubbed the back of his neck as he stared, wide-eyed, at the table in front of them, perhaps questioning every life decision he'd ever made that had led him to this point. "We are doing this so much. Who else is going to screw over Vasquez?"

"Vasquez is more than capable of screwing himself over, given enough time," Yvette said dryly, folding her arms.

"And how long will that take? Are you willing to wait for years for that to happen?"

"He might get eaten by a skag the second he sets foot on Pandora," Vaughn chimed in, wearing an expression that said 'and the same could happen to us'.

"And he might not," Rhys countered, "in which case, enjoy being middle management saps for the next ten to fifteen years. I, however, am not willing to clean up Vasquez's damn trash three times a day, just so he can drink in how much power he has."

"Fair point," Vaughn conceded and Yvette nodded solemnly.

"Well, then," she said after taking the last sip of her latte, "you have everything you need." She paused, looking at both of them. A twist in her gut. "Good luck. Try not to die - there's an awful lot of paperwork to fill out if you do."

"We'll miss you, too."

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

Vasquez's furious shouting reached Yvette's ears before the man himself stormed into her office. She steeled herself, remaining cool and calm, tapping away at her keyboard as he stalked up to her desk.

"Mr. Vasquez?" Polite, despite her gut curling at the sight of him. Slimeball.

"Yvette!" Vasquez glared down at her, breathing heavily, before he appeared to relax slightly, stepping into the persona he often reserved for buttering up management. "Yvette. Just the lady I was looking for." He stepped around her desk and sat on the edge of it, looming over her. "Urgent business. Confidential, of course. Management... I, need to meet with Rhys. Only he, ah, seems to be difficult to pin down." Vasquez stared down at her, his eyes burning. She stared right back, innocently, collected. "You had lunch together, shared plans for the afternoon..."

"As far as I'm aware, he's working," Yvette offered coolly. "I haven't seen him, or spoken to him, since lunch."

"Oh? Working on his next eridium mining contract? Or, maybe, stealing ten million dollars of Hyperion's money and taking it to a Pandoran named August to buy a Vault Key?" Vasquez folded his arms as he leaned in slightly. Trying to intimidate her. Yvette had dealt with much worse in her time at Hyperion.

"I have never heard of August and, like I said, I assumed Rhys had gone back to work after lunch," Yvette said firmly, "so, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Trying to cover for him? Or, have you washed your hands of him already?" Vasquez leered down at her. "He'll be so happy to hear it when we pick him up and drag his soon-to-be-dead ass into a cell for stealing Hyperion property." He smiled, an ugly, sinister curve of a thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Speaking of which, exactly how did he get hold of the money? He isn't an accountant, doesn't have access to funds. Unless... he had help. If I recall, you're both good friends with the man who just happens to manage valuable Hyperion funds and assets. What was his name again? Vinny? Vance?"

Yvette remained poker-faced, raising her eyebrows slightly, questioningly. A vein in Vasquez's temple was twitching.

"I won't deny that I'm friends with them," she said calmly, sitting back into her chair and folding her arms, "but that's all I can tell you. Whatever this is? You're asking the wrong person."

"Mmm-hmm," Vasquez fixed her with a firm glare. "So, that's how it's going to be. Alright, then." He stood and turned to leave, but paused. "I would think about where your loyalties lie, Yvette. Hyperion can set you up for life." He turned again to face her. She remained impassive. "And it can also end it. We can trace everything. Think about that, while you decide your future."

She only allowed herself to exhale once the heavy blast doors closed behind him. Some chewing of her thumbnail, the only show of anxiety she would allow herself.

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

Rhys and Vaughn had lost the money. They were as good as dead.

Hyperion didn't yet know. It didn't matter. They would.

Rhys and Vaughn would either die on Pandora, or die the minute they stepped foot on Helios.

Climbing the ranks of Hyperion was a colossal challenge that very, very few could ever hope to rise to. The toxic culture, knives in so many backs - sometimes literally. Yvette had dared to hope, when she and Rhys and Vaughn had become friends. One person alone couldn't even begin to chip away at the Hyperion machine, but the three of them, working together?

It was over. It had been silly to think it could have happened in the first place.

Her office phone rang. The caller ID read 'Hugo Vasquez'.

She sighed heavily, then answered it.

"The situation has changed. Meet me in my office. Ten minutes." He hung up before she'd even said a word.

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

"Your involvement in the stealing of ten million dollars can be... erased, Yvette. Nobody higher up needs to know. ID logs can be manipulated. Traces erased."

She folded her arms. "... If?"

Vasquez was the most serious-looking she'd ever seen him.

"I'll be honest. We need the data in Rhys's systems far more than ten million dollars."

Systems. Like Rhys wasn't a walking, living human being.

"Let's just say that Hyperion is willing to pay a lot to recover this data. To the person, or people, responsible for recovering it" Vasquez folded his arms as he leaned against his desk. Behind him, Pandora was framed nicely within the window of his office. What had once been Henderson's office, before he'd been... terminated.

Henderson had been a racist prick, she didn't miss him, mourn him or even feel sorry for him, but it was a nice reminder about what Vasquez was capable of.

"So," Vasquez continued, "you help me, I help you. You track Rhys, keep tabs on his location and give me all of the information you know. And I'll make sure you're not implicated in anything... unsavoury. And, give you a cut of the reward."

Yvette stood, calm on the outside and reeling on the inside.

Her best friends.

Her best friends who were likely dead regardless.

Likely. Ha. They were toast.

Could she live with being an active part in their demise, though?

Vasquez glared, impatient.

"You make a very compelling argument, Vasquez," Yvette plastered a snakelike smile on her face and part of her died within. "You have a deal."

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

She gasped as the cold water she'd scooped and thrown into her face hit her skin. The swanky bathroom of her cushy Helios apartment was dimly lit, but she could still see every feature of her face in the mirror. Every line of the troubled expression marring her features.

Vasquez had gone down to Pandora to find Rhys and Vaughn. On the back of information that she had given to him.

Rhys and Vaughn were going to die anyway.

Assuming Vasquez was successful and brought Rhys, or whatever remained of him, back to Helios. The next steps were glaringly obvious. Vasquez would claim all of the reward for himself. Yvette would be exposed, her role in the disappearance of ten million dollars and two intrepid, naïve Hyperion employees with it, one of whom was hiding some incredibly important program in his head, apparently.

She'd be thrown out of an airlock the second Vasquez stepped back onto Helios.

This was about survival, now.

Yvette had quietly been gathering evidence on Vasquez's involvement in this mess. Bribery, incompetence. She was ready to strike. Ready to claim the reward for herself, to survive something else that Hyperion had to throw at her.

But she had to play along, for now.

Which meant leading Vasquez right to Rhys and Vaughn.

Maybe Vasquez would lose. Maybe her best friends would outsmart him, work their way out and escape into the sunset. Yvette couldn't see it happening. Much as she loved them, they'd be hopeless in any kind of fight-or-flight response.

As much as she had loved them.

Because now she'd struck a deal with the devil and anyone who truly cared for their friends wouldn't serve them to their deaths on a silver platter.

It was them, or her.

Welcome to Hyperion.

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

Vasquez had rolled up in some old, hulking build-it-yourself spaceship that would have looked more at home in a scrapyard and, what was more, had failed to bring Rhys, or any part of him, back with him.

To say Yvette was furious would be an understatement.

She'd stormed into his office, her office, ready to blast him to hell for failing to uphold his part of the deal. Shafting them both, not that she cared about what would happen to him, following his unauthorised trip to Pandora. Without the data in Rhys' system, he was as good as dead anyway.

Something was missing. Vasquez had been unreachable for weeks after landing on Pandora, which had driven her mad. She'd been feeding him information in all that time and he couldn't even be bothered to send her a 'thank you'. But now he was back, something was... off.

Not... not in a bad way, honestly. The malice she normally associated with him was lacking. It was disarming, but Yvette didn't have time or resources to worry about such a thing. What did it matter, in the grand scheme of things?

"You had one job," she spat out, glaring daggers at him. He was... strangely vulnerable?

"I'm on it," he said quietly. "I just need more time."

"Time's up, Vasquez. It's over. I'm calling management."

"Don't," he said, desperate yet calm, collected. "It will only end badly, and not just for me. You think I don't have evidence to back myself up? And so, so much of it points to you, Yvette." Hurt. What a strange thing to witness in his expression.

"Then I guess we're at an impasse." She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I can fix this. I know what to do. To save both our asses."

Yvette remained silent. Like Vasquez cared about what happened to her.

Still, they were stuck. Play along for now, then shaft him later, once she knew what this plan of his was.

"You have the rest of the working day to fix this," Yvette snapped, "and then I'm handing you in. Consequences be damned."

"I don't think you mean that," he said, voice low, almost deadly.

"You don't know anything about me," she countered, equally as deadly. "Get out of my office."

To her enormous surprise, he left.

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

The escape pod rattled unsettlingly as it plummeted to Pandora. Yvette stared, dully, out at the rapidly approaching planet.

She should be dead. Maybe that would have been the better alternative.

Rhys' face as she'd gone for the escape pod... As he'd told her to go to the escape pod.

She'd sold him out and he'd repaid her by saving her life. Essentially sealing his own death warrant as he'd done so. Even after her pathetic attempts at an explanation and apology while she'd been locked in the cell.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists until the nails drew blood. Helios was breaking apart behind her. There was no way he'd survive.

Ha. Hadn't she written him off, anyway?

She didn't deserve a friend like him. She didn't deserve friends at all. Because, as it had become blindly obvious throughout the last few weeks, she was more than willing to sell them out to save her own skin.

Maybe the pod would crash with such a force that she'd be torn apart upon impact.

At least it would put an end to the burning, lead guilt that weighed down every cell in her body.

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

"Thanks, Vaughn."

"Don't mention it."

The emergency blanket felt scratchy against her skin. The soup in the bowl in her lap could barely qualify as 'warm'. It was more than she deserved.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Vaughn stopped in his tracks, turned to face her. Exhausted. Dark circles underlined his eyes and aged him well beyond his twenty-seven years.

"You went through hell, too. I just... want to help."

She didn't know what she could say. Apologies were worthless.

"Eat the soup, Yvette, it will help."

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

"To... surviving."

"I'll drink to that."

"Mmm-hmm."

Three glasses clinked together in the candlelit room, one of the more... intact ones that had mostly survived the fall from orbit.

"I'm so glad you're both ok," Rhys said quietly, staring into his chipped glass filled with an unspecified alcohol.

Yvette stared into her own glass. Both. Even after everything.

"Rhys-"

His head snapped up and mismatched eyes met her own. Alarmed, almost. He knew what was coming.

"Yvette, you don't have to-"

"I do," she said firmly. Vaughn glanced between the two of them. "I'm sorry. I really am." She sighed heavily. "I guess... I was just trying to survive. I was scared." She scratched at the side of her head. A small scar had formed there, a remnant of her crash-landing into Pandora. She felt the smooth texture underneath her finger. "It was a shitty way of doing it. You guys were - are - the best friends I've ever had. I should have done better."

They were both silent for a moment, exchanging glances.

"We've all experienced Hyperion," Vaughn finally chimed in solemnly. "'Surviving' was about all we could do."

Rhys made a noise of agreement. "You think we didn't do terrible things, too?"

"Still..."

"Yvette, it's ok," Rhys smiled at her. "It hurt, at the time. I won't lie. But I also know what it's like to be in fear for your life."

"Yeah. Who at Hyperion didn't do something shitty at some point? It was practically in the job description." Vaughn also smiled.

"I guess we all learned something," Rhys continued quietly and Vaughn nodded in agreement. "But, that's what it's all about, I guess. I think as long as we acknowledge where we go wrong, and do something to be better... No reason we can't be ok, right?"

A weight, a terrible, oppressive weight that she'd carried for so long, now. Some of it eased.

"I'll drink to that," she offered, smiling, and the three clinked their glasses together again.

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (5)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

The days are the same and fortunately for you, no further attempted aggression has been committed on you. But it's not the police you have to thank for that, but just yourself. Because when you tried to file a complaint against your attacker, all the police were able to tell you was that there was nothing they could do. Because as you bear no stigma, no trace of blow ... there would be no point in filing a complaint. You sigh just by thinking about it, decidedly the mentality of some police officers will always surprise you. You really wonder what criteria they are recruited on.  

While you were serving a few clients, your gaze was slowly moving towards Jed, leaning over those drafts blackened by his pencil. God he’s beautiful when he is focused... something about him attracts you when he's in that state. But now is not the time to be lost in your thoughts! Let's stay professional first! you walk towards him a tea in hand that you lay on the table, bringing him out of his concentration. He gave you a smile, that angelic smile that could melt all hearts. We remain professional I said!

“I think it'll do you the greatest good, three coffees in a row could turn you into a ball of nerve. always immersed in your research about this ... Hoggins?” You said looking down to the papers.

“Yeah, I need to know a couple of things about him for this reception...so I could more easily slip into the crowd and rummage through his stuff without him noticing anything. Can you imagine if I find anything compromising about this story? This will create the biggest scandal this city... this state has never known.” he responds with some enthusiasm.

“You could also be killed so no one knows. That Hoggins is a very influent man. He could hire someone to kill you and your peers, like that bastard... Forget it. I can’t believe what the police told me... What are they waiting for? that I'm dying to act?”  

“This the reason why I rather fend for myself and solve problems in my own way. and that's what I plan to do with Mike. he thinks he can belittle me and hit me with impunity, he is seriously mistaken. I'll take the time it takes, but one day I'll give him back the blows he'll take from me.” He replies putting his glasses back.  

“Well, not so shy as I thought after all.”

“I am someone who interacts with people based on how they act with me. If they put me lower than earth ... I do the same.”  

He sipped his tea while putting a little order on the table. You can't help but look at his piercing blue eyes, so attractive, that's what makes all his charm, his major asset. When they stared at you, you feel your cheeks blush slightly and with a little embarrassed laugh, you get up and start heading to the counter ready to welcome new customers.

“You know...” Jed starts making you stop and turn to him. “I was thinking... that you could go with me to this reception. If I say you're with me, I don't think it's going to be a problem.” he said with a little smile.  

“What?? Me?? Jed I... It’s really nice of you but...I’m not a journalist and even less a girl from high society. I wouldn't feel like I belong there. And then I might embarrass you in your work...I don’t know if it’s a really good idea.” you answer putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why not? I'm going to have a good night at this reception too. But knowing Melina and Mattew, they're going to go their own way and leave me alone lost in the middle of people I don't know. So, if I can share it with a friend... And chat with someone I like and know... I'd rather you came.”  

“Well...okay. Thanks Jed. I appreciate that you've thinking about me.”

The door opened and a woman entered the café. Given the outfit she was wearing, she was either working in the office or she was a businesswoman. But a horrible thrill pierced you when you saw in the distance Mc Kellan a smile on the corner. Whoever this woman is, this scumbag knows her for sure.

“Are you the owner of The Nebula?” said the woman by looking around her.

“Yes. Can I help you?” you answer a little worried.

“Let me introduce myself: Mrs Alice Milton. Hygiene inspector. Mr. Kellan has informed me that you are not complying with certain health measures and I am here to check. You don't mind, do you?

“No... Not at all.” you said, trying to stay calm.  

Mrs Milton began to do his inspection. She checked every table, every seat, every window. No object escaped his gaze. Then she went to the back shop to check the reserves and worktops. She wrote down two or three things on her notebook and went on.

You observe her, the fear in your stomach, trembling slightly to the simple fact that she could make fall the cleaver on you. You suddenly feel a hand resting on your shoulder, it was Jed's. He gave you a big smile to reassure you, calm your fears and make you understand that whatever she says, he will help you.

Mrs. Milton put away her belongings without saying a word, then left the café to go to McKellan. From the counter you could see them chatting, Mc Kellan didn't look happy and the young woman tried to calm him down. You'd like to be a pigeon or a fly to find out what they're telling each other.

Suddenly you see Mc Kellan driving away without Mrs. Milton. This one came back to the café but for some reason, you feel more comfortable...as if she were just becoming a customer like the others. And this was confirmed when she smiled at you, a reassuring smile, a friendly smile.  

“You can breathe now, he's gone. I'm sorry I did this with you. But I had to stay professional in front of him. You are not Horace's first victim. Can I?” She said, looking at Jed’s table.  

“Sure.” Jed simply said.

“You look like... not to appreciate him either.” you said while keeping your distance.

“Not really. Horace trusts very few people. He's a very selfish man. Who wants to impose his laws and his manners on everyone. and as soon as someone dares to oppose him... He's calling on me to ‘make the vermin flow’. As I said, you’re not the first one on his list, and you won’t be the last.”

“I have no doubt about that. Coffee?” you ask her before filling her a cup when she nodded. “What did you say to him? Outside.”

“That I found nothing. And as always, he was upset. I said I'll continue my search...But don’t worry I won't do anything. On the other hand, be careful, He’s not likely to give up so easily. And if he gets more upset, he'll make you killing and throwing in Dry Creek.”

Jed says nothing but Danny burns internally, if someone has the right to kill you...It’s him and ONLY him. That's one more reason to kill McKellan. This guy is not only dangerous for you, but for Danny's reputation. There can only be one killer here and Danny is not the type to share the scene. Danny has no choice. He has to get rid of Mc Kellan first. Mike can wait a bit.  

“What can I do?” you ask worried.  

“Do nothing toward him. Everything you do, he’ll turn it against you. And he’ll get what he wants. I suggest you to protect yourself. Or at least not to be alone in case he'll send you another assailant. Always have something to defend yourself. Or someone.” said Mrs Milton.

You nodded and after a few minutes of conversation, Mrs Milton leaves the coffee, wishing you good luck. You clean Jed's table, who was tidying up his belongings, getting ready to leave. He wrote something on a sheet which he handed you with a little smile. You tilt your head to the side, an eyebrow raised.

“My phone number, in case you’ll need something. Or just want to talk.” He said.  

“Jed come on...I can...” you start to answer before seeing he’s insisting. You sight, taking the sheet on your hand. “Fine...Thanks Jed. I’ll owe you one. More than one in fact.”

“I know you’ll help me someday. So, don’t worry. Oh and... I love your praline and coconut cake. A strange but very interesting mix.” he said before leaving, weaving his hand with that angelic smile on his face.

The rest of the day took place and it must be admitted that it was quite sporty. It's hard to handle so many people on your own. But until you have some financial stability, you can't hire someone at the moment. After your usual closing ritual, you go home. Next goal:  buys a pepper spray or a small knife, just in case.

You pick up your mail and go back to your apartment. What a relief to finally be at home. You put your belongings on the couch, the letters in a bowl dedicated to your mail and you head to the kitchen. Family's photos decorated some walls of the apartment reviving wonderful memories... But also, painful wounds. Homemade carbonara pasta for the evening will suit perfectly. it is rare that you take industrial products. As you put all the ingredients on the worktop, the phone rang.

Who can call you at this hour? You don't remember giving someone your landline number since you arrived. You ignore the call and go back to your business when it rang again. Someone's really trying to reach you. You take the handset of the phone determined to know who can call you at this time. Every time, it's a number error.

“Hello? Who’s on the phone?” you said.

“Oh. You're not my aunt. Sorry I got the wrong number.” respond the other person on the phone.  

Jackpot.

“It doesn't matter, it happens to everyone. Good night.” you replied as start to hang up.  

“Wait, wait!  Can... can we talk a little bit more? I never heard such a beautiful voice like yours before.”  

“Quite a charmer, are you? Well, if you want. if it can make you happy.” You answer with a little laugh.

“Thanks. It's rare for people who take the time to chat with strangers on the phone. Usually, they hang up immediately or never respond. Nice shirt by the way.”  

" well, it's usually rare to answer numbers that...” You start before realizing what he said last. “excuse me...What did you just say?”

“I said nice shirt. Purple suits you well.”

“H-how do you know that?”  

“... Raise your head.”

You gradually raise your head and face the building in front of yours. In the window that faced yours, you see him. A man with a white mask was there, tilting his head waving his hand to say hello.

“See me now?” He chuckles.

“Who the f*** are you ??” You respond even if you already know the answer.  

“What a lovely language...Well, I'm sure you already know the answer but if you insist. You can call me: Ghostface. I think I'm gonna call you...”

“what do you want?”

“Just talk. As I said, I never heard such a beautiful voice before...and never see such a pretty face like yours too.”

“call a prostitute if you want to chat, you freaking weirdo.” You replied ready to hang up.

“Tsk tsk. No no no my little star...if you hang up...you won’t see the sun rise tomorrow. Or your dear nerdy friend won’t see it.”

“Leave Jed alone! It’s between you and me! if you dare to touch him, I swear...” you say angrily before hearing him laugh.  

“Calm down my sweet little star... The truth is, I don't intend to touch him. It is thanks to him that I have acquired this beautiful but sinister reputation. He makes me the star of Roseville. We need each other. But let's talk about you. I must admit that I find it difficult to understand how such beauty as you live in such city. You must have a good reason.”

“It’s none of your business. I can ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I want to leave a trace in this miserable world. I want everyone remember my name. But for that I have to move across all the country. You know what? I'm going to let you live for now. But I advise you not to tell the police about our little conversation. It will pain me a lot to disfigure such a pretty face ... and a pretty body. And don't worry, we'll meet again. Good night my sweet little star... Have a beautiful dream.” He said chuckling before hanging up.  

You hang up the phone on the table and when you look back at the window, he was gone. Like a shadow in the night. You take a deep breathe, rubbing your face in your hands and sit on the sofa. Deep down, you felt that sooner or later you would face him. But not so quickly. Fortunately for you, he is not determined to make you a new victim of his macabre round. But for how long? you hope for as late as possible.

Unknowingly, my dear little star you fell into the spider's web. Without knowing it you have caught the attention of the devil.  

And that's just the beginning.

***

(Done! I'm glad to see you like it! And I hope it will continue! By the way I recently watched The Boy and discovered that dear Brahms~ And I must confess that he does not leave me indifferent. What a lovely British accent he has~ See ya! )