#au: extraction mission

[discordiansamba]

pidge: matt. why do you have a bunch of pamphlets about how to recognize that you're in a cult?

matt: it's a surprise tool that will help us later

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

32 / 1.4k / soap soulmate au, part 9

...

Soap goes still and quiet, his grip loosening. "People?"

"Human trafficking."

"How do you know?"

"Because security is quadrupled in the basement lounge. The client and his inner circle are scheduled to move downstairs after midnight. They're calling it an afterparty."

"You're sure it's not drugs?"

"I'm sure. I saw the dossier given to security downstairs."

Soap's mouth twists. The target sure as hell isn't leaving this place alive if he can help it. “Could’ve mentioned that earlier."

“I tried. Who do you think tipped Laswell off?"

That gives Soap pause. "Laswell? You’ve been in touch with her?"

"Once." You curl your fingers tighter into his vest and grab his chin to make him look at you. "Johnny, listen. If you kill him now, everything locks down. You won't be able to get into the basement. You need to get down there quietly with the element of surprise."

"What have you got in mind? Covert extraction, no prep, no briefing?" He raises one hand as if to cover yours, to trace along your knuckles. After so long, he can’t help it. He just wants to touch you. "That's a lot to ask. What was your plan if we didn’t show? Go it alone?"

"Figure it out as I go along, I guess."

"Christ, you're a headache." Soap's hand tightens around yours, gently pulling it off his collar to bring your hand up to his cheek. He turns up your palm and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You're on his side this time. He can't put into words how light it makes him feel. 

He makes a low sound in his throat before he pulls back again. He clicks on his radio. "Captain, LT, you'll want to hear this."

While Soap explains the situation on his team's comms, you put yourself back together, checking your rifle and your gear. He watches you the whole time. You’re not what he remembers—not the cornered animal he met in that interrogation room before. You're in your element. If he could, he’d drag you away, take you back to some safehouse somewhere, and focus on getting to know you in every way and every position he knows. Patience, he tells himself. After this mission, he'll have all the time in the world. 

After the brief conference--and Laswell confirming she’d received an anonymous, cryptic tip about stolen goods in the target’s favorite Swiss Alps resort--he turns back to you. "Price wants the target no matter what. We're pullin' back to regroup and plan our strategy."

Your stomach drops. "What? There's no time."

"You said it yourself: we have no intel, no time to prep, and no good way in. Civilians everywhere. If it goes tits up, people die." He grabs your hand and pulls you into the hall, heading for the stairwell. "We're fallin’ back and regrouping while we still can."

You jerk your hand out of his, stumbling back. "We have intel. I was briefed on this mission. I can get downstairs,” you argue.

You mean alone. Soap doesn't like that. "Not happening,” he snaps, his voice rough with frustration. He glares down at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth. “I know you can more than handle yourself, but not against a hundred of these bastards."

"Those bastards are my coworkers," you retort. "They won't look twice at me."

That's the worst part. Your familiarity with this place makes you an undeniable asset for this mission—that’s why he sought you out. The reason that’ll be in the official report, anyway. Damn it. He's torn between the knowledge that he should be happy you’re willing to help his team out and his desire to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of the building.

"You said yourself security's quadrupled down there. If it goes loud, you're done. I'm not lettin’ you play hero. No. Ain't happenin'."

“Then we find a different plan,” you argue. You've never met someone so hard-headed.

"She might have a point," Gaz's voice says in Soap’s earpiece. "If we find a way to bring security up to the ground floor instead, you and Ghost can get down there and find the hostages. Security's already jumpy with the power out--give them a reason to come upstairs and they will. It’s just a matter of finding a distraction. And we've got snipers posted. Distractions are easy."

Hearing Gaz, you nod. “I'll take the target and lead him into view for your snipers.”

Soap curses under his breath, running a hand over his mohawk. He wishes he’d turned his radio off. He doesn't like putting you at risk.

You huff and sling your rifle over your back. Time is slipping away. "I need to find the target. I'll wait for your signal and--"

Soap grabs your arm before you can walk past him. "Jesus, stop. Give me a minute to think."

"We don't have--"

"Time, I ken." Soap's grip tightens. He tugs you against him again, one hand going to the back of your neck to hold you in place. "You're not goin'. Not without me."

"That's ridiculous!" Your voice climbs despite the way he forces you closer--folds his arm around your lower back and pulls you chest-to-chest. "They’ll see you. And they’re not just going to arrest you, okay—they’ll kill you."

Soap’s expression tightens. "How do I know you won't abscond with the target? Wouldn’t be the first time you left us high and dry."

You close your mouth and stare at him. He’s worried you’ll betray him. Your gaze falls to his chest, silent, because it wouldn't be the first time.

At the look on your face, Soap’s chest feels like it’s caving in. But he keeps going before he loses his nerve. He doesn't care if it's selfish. "You disappeared. No word. No message. Not even a thank you. I'm not lettin' that happen a second time. One wrong move and I'm pullin' you out."

He lets go of you, unhooks the collar radio from around his neck, and puts it around yours instead. "Tell my team when and where you have the target in place. They'll take care of the rest."

You put the earpiece in place and adjust the bit around your neck. "Fine."

He stands still, arms crossed, as you adjust your gear one more time. Your nerves are shot.

You glance at him, an apology stuck in your throat. "I was going to contact you, I just..."

"Just what? Had more important things going on? Assholes to protect?" he snaps. He stalks closer, towering over you again. The frustration flashing through his eyes eclipses the sudden, haunted look of a man who hasn't slept well in weeks.

You press your hand to the armor on his chest and lower your voice. "I get it if you don't trust me. Just... trust that I want your target dead as much as you do."

"Promise me you won't disappear on me again."

You bite the inside of your lip and put your hand on his cheek. Something in your chest twinges when he leans into it. "I promise," you lie.

"Good." He closes his eyes and lowers his forehead to yours. He breathes deeply, committing your touch to memory.

Then he opens his eyes and angles your jaw up toward his, his mouth slanting over yours in a hard, possessive kiss that empties your brain completely. When he pulls away, his eyes glimmer.

"You’d better stand by that promise, darlin’,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “I let you go in Las Almas because you didn’t want my protection yet. Could’ve taken you with me whether you liked it or not, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you hatin’ me. Even if it meant keepin’ you safe.” The cool leather on his knuckles brushes tenderly against your neck. "But those reservations aren’t holdin’ me back anymore. I will do what needs to be done if you play games with me. You understand?"

You stare at him, heart thumping strangely. "I don't think that's... necessary."

“I hope it’s not.” He cups your jaw in his hands and brings your lips to his again. The kiss this time is gentler, softer—just a slow, intimate press that melts you completely. You’re breathless by the time he lifts his head. "When this is over, you're mine."

You nod weakly, not trusting yourself to speak.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / [part 9] / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[kasagia]

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes. 

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog ​​bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Angel - Part 1

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers?

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Reader is enhanced, has wings and has powers connected to electricity.

Chapter Summary: You need an extraction

Chapter Warnings: Brief description of what will be sexual assault when explained further

You would never admit it to anyone but you’re scared. Right now in this moment, you are nervous, on edge and you want to go home, which be great if you actually had a home.

You never expected this to happen. You trusted him. You thought he was your friend.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

And now you were hiding in a ditch on some B road in Scotland. Covered in him. Stinking of him.

You’d stormed out of the base on foot, people moving out the way in a hurry to avoid your known temper. When one of the agents you’d been working with tried to stop you, you’d snarled and used your powers to scare him off with a crack of electricity. You’d walked for a few miles and then let out your wings but flying meant you needed to regulate your breathing with the wind in your face and right now you couldn’t do that. Not with how angry and upset you were and your throat on fire. As another military truck rolled past, your colleagues looking for you, you’d ducked behind a hedge, letting out your wings and wrapping yourself in them.

You needed to get away from here before your temper got the best of you or before your omega side came out and started looking for comfort. There were few people you trusted in this situation or at all. You pulled out your burner phone and dialled the number of one of those you trusted most.

“Romanoff, go ahead.” Came the familiar voice. You went to speak but nothing came out. The fucker had crushed your vocal calls. You tried again but still nothing.

“Is this an agent? Do you require assistance?”

You slumped further into the ditch at a loss of what to do. You couldn’t think straight.

“Agent do you require extraction or emergency assistance?”

It was then you remembered the watch around your wrist. Standard issue to Avengers or anyone important to them. Natasha had practically thrown it at you when you’d returned from a mission having ‘gone dark’ and untraceable for three days. You’d even briefly worried Fury.

You reached down to your wrist and pushed the button on the side twice and you faintly heard a voice on the still open phone line.

“Distress signal received. Sending coordinates to Quinjet 2. Angel requesting immediate assistance.”

“Angel is that you?” Nat’s voice came through the phone. You pressed hard on one of the keys.

“Shit, we’re coming. Stay safe. Stay low. Angel, do you copy?”

You pressed the key again.

“We’re coming to get you.”

[onceuponastory]

protective - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky gets protective over Y/N during a mission. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A guy being creepy, reader being slightly uncomfortable and Bucky wanting to fight the guy. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This is very loosely based on El Tango De Roxanne from Moulin Rouge because I love that scene & that song. Also I was thinking about a Moulin Rouge AU so lemme know your thoughts. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own. Thank you to @staticscreenwriting for my divider!

“I don’t like this.” Bucky hisses, throwing a hard stare across the room. Nervously, he taps his feet. Although, when he sees Y/N standing there, leaning against the bar as she sips from her drink, his face softens ever so slightly, and a small smile grows on his face. But once he remembers what they’re doing here, his hard stare returns. He really doesn’t like this. Not one bit.

“Don’t worry Buck. She’s got this.” Steve’s voice crackles over the headset. “Besides, she has a wire on, so we’ll be able to hear everything, and we can step in if we need to.” Despite how his words are trying to be supportive, Bucky doesn’t feel comforted at all by his words. 

Tonight, they’re on another mission, ready to stop some corrupt agent intent on causing chaos. And Y/N was sent undercover to charm him and try to extract information because she’s not as publicly known as the other Avengers. It’s not the first time Y/N’s done something like this, but this time, Bucky hates the thought of sending her out there alone. From what Bucky’s heard, despite the man’s kind facade, he’s extremely cruel when he needs to be, and he has no issue with stepping on people to get what he wants. And no doubt he would do just the same to Y/N if she ever got in his way. Despite how experienced she is, the thought of Y/N stuck there with him alone makes his stomach churn.

“Sam, do you have visuals on Y/N?”

“Yes, Bucky. I did the first time you asked, and I still do now.” Before Bucky even asks his next question, Sam answers it. “Yes, I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Good.”

Bucky knows his two best friends are worried about Y/N too, but he also knows that they think he’s overreacting slightly that Y/N is going to be perfectly safe. Bucky just hopes they’re right. Y/N is incredibly skilled at going undercover, and there’s no doubt she’ll do just as well today and get the information they need. It’s just that Bucky cares too much about her to let her go into these dangerous situations alone. At least not without her knowing that he’s there on the other end if she needs him. He’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember, and the last thing he wants is for her to be put in danger. His gaze goes back to Y/N, and he sighs. She looks gorgeous tonight, dressed to the nines. But that’s not too difficult. To Bucky, Y/N always looks gorgeous. Maybe one day he’ll actually find the guts to tell her the truth, instead of standing here all forlorn and lovesick, as Sam and Steve call it.

“Showtime.” Sam whispers, cutting through his thoughts. Bucky watches as the man enters the room, making a beeline straight to the bar. Y/N notices him too, and makes a point of brushing up against him slightly as she requests another drink. The man looks over her, pointedly staring at her chest and her ass. Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“Let me get that.” The man grins, placing his hand on Y/N’s wrist and reaching out with his card before Y/N can do anything. “Can’t let a pretty girl like you pay for your own drink now, can I?” Bucky suppresses a desire to vomit. Creep.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiles, batting her eyelashes slightly. The sight makes Bucky’s stomach flutter, the same way it usually does when he sees Y/N. Sometimes, Bucky likes to imagine that Y/N’s flirting is for him, and that she feels the same way he does for her. But for real this time.

As Y/N and the man find a table and start chatting, Bucky continues to watch, hating every moment. The way the man leers at her, a sick smirk on his face the entire time, makes Bucky’s stomach churn even more. He knows what assholes like him do, and he hates every part of it.

“Can you cool it with the glare, Buck? I’m not even in the same room as you and I can feel it burning through the wall.” Bucky ignores Sam’s comment and instead works through an action plan. A way to rescue Y/N in case she needs help. As he does so, he keeps a cautious eye on the pair, just in case. As she laughs along with the man, Bucky can pick up on the awkwardness in her laugh. He swears the noise makes his stomach twist. When the man presses a kiss to her cheek and a small flicker of unease crosses Y/N’s face, Bucky swears his heart almost stops.

In a moment, he jumps up, ready to charge in, to peel the man’s arms off of Y/N and drag him away from her. But before he can, Y/N takes control once more, changing the subject. Yet still, Bucky keeps a wary eye on the man. He flexes his metal arm, ensuring he’s ready to jump in and protect Y/N.

Whatever the cost.

Thankfully though, only a few hours later (albeit longer than Bucky would’ve liked), the agent suddenly has to leave, bringing the mission to a halt. And soon, Y/N is back safe and sound in the compound with the others. 

“Well done Y/N.” Steve praises, and Sam nods.

“Yeah. Great job.” Bucky murmurs, his tone causing Y/N to raise a brow.

“Guys, can I speak to Bucky alone for a moment, please?” she asks. Glancing at each other, Steve and Sam nod and leave the room. “So. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” he shrugs. Scoffing, Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“Bucky, there’s no point in lying. I know you.” She’s right, she does know him really well. Sometimes, Bucky swears that Y/N knows him better than anyone else. Even better than Steve. There’s no way he could even try to hide his feelings from her. “And besides, you were staring daggers out the window the whole ride back. Now, tell me what the problem is.”

“I just… when you were with that guy, I was worried about you, okay?!”

“Aww Bucky, you really do care about me!” she grins, giggling like it’s just a joke. But little does she know, Bucky doesn’t see it that way.

“I do care about you! Fuck Y/N, I care about you more than anything in this world, and the thought of that… that sicko being anywhere near you, o-or laying his hands on you makes me feel sick!” He exclaims, the words slipping out without another thought. “I know how good you are at going undercover, but the last thing I want is you getting hurt.” Y/N’s eyes widen.

“Oh… oh.” As silence falls amongst the pair, Bucky’s heart pounds. Why did it all have to slip out like that? Maybe keeping it in for so long has finally taken its toll. Y/N stares back at him, still silent. Bucky blushes, his cheeks turning scarlet. Now he looks like an idiot. A total lovesick idiot. 

“I’ll, um. I’ll go.” 

“No, wait.” Y/N stops him as he starts to leave, reaching out and touching his arm. “I-I never knew you felt that way about me, Bucky. Thank you.” she smiles, and Bucky nods.

“Y/N, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” he admits, chuckling slightly. “You’re very special to me, Y/N.”

“And you’re special to me too, Buck. I’m so glad to have someone like you looking out for me.” Before Bucky can even respond, she presses a kiss to his cheek, his stubble lightly grazing against her lips. This almost sends Bucky’s heart into overdrive, and he swears his skin tingles from where she kissed him. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I had no idea you felt the same way about me.” she whispers, her words making Bucky’s mouth drop open. “I need to go type out my mission report, but maybe we can grab dinner afterwards? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.” Bucky nods. And then she heads down the hallway, waving goodbye. Even after she disappears from sight, Bucky still stares down the hall. He cups his cheek, still feeling it burn from when she kissed him. Still dumbstruck at how Y/N likes him back. A goofy grin overtakes his face. 

Despite how badly tonight started, he’s never been as happy as he is right now.

Please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[ginnsbaker]

it's just dinner

Summary: Another installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to the follow up; You and Wanda enjoy a quiet dinner at your home--or so you thought

Word count: 3k | Tags: Fluff, Some Blood (lol), Wanda being clumsy

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: There will be one more installment after this. It's been really fun writing something so wholesome :)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

-

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

Two hours earlier

Every attempt at a date with Wanda Maximoff is a tragicomic misadventure.

The first attempt was promising: a quaint dinner at a hidden gem of a restaurant. Yet, on that very day, your apartment's plumbing decided to rebel, turning your living space into a mini lake. You remember Wanda's sympathetic chuckle on the phone, suggesting a rain check. The next date was set, but it still wasn’t in the cards. Just as you were picking out a shirt, Wanda’s phone buzzed. An urgent mission. She sent an apologetic message, punctuated with a little red-faced emoji. “Next time,” she promised.

Your third attempt seemed foolproof. A coffee date, something short and sweet. Yet, irony dripped as you got a call from the dental clinic. An emergency extraction that couldn't wait. As you gloved up, you couldn’t help but think of the universe’s odd sense of humor.

(Maybe it's trying to send a message, and you've been too stubborn to listen.)

But resilience is your middle name. So, here's attempt number four.

A cozy dinner and a film at your place. Simple. No grand expectations. If, by chance, this date still falls through, at least you're already home. Your bed awaits, just steps away, to provide solace for any potential disappointments.

As the clock ticks closer to the agreed-upon time, you arrange the table, blending classic dinnerware with contemporary accents. Wine glasses shimmer under the subdued lights, their elegant curves catching the candle's dance. The gentle melodies of a classical piano accompany the inviting aroma of the goulash, creating a setting that might just captivate Wanda's heart.

Not that you’re already aiming for her heart. That'd be rushing things, wouldn't it? Only a week ago, you and Wanda were each wary of the other—you, daunted by her powers, and her, intimidated by, well, you.

A mere dentist.

In your bedroom, you've changed outfits multiple times, finally choosing one that finds the right balance between casual and slightly dressy. Every detail matters, from the watch you're wearing to the cologne you've spritzed.

Sure, there's a hint of anxiety, but above all, you're buzzing with anticipation. You can picture it—Wanda's appreciative smile as she digs into the goulash, both of you snuggled up during the movie, and then chatting about everything and nothing as you both start to get sleepy.

Your phone buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You see a message from Wanda: “On my way. Can't wait!” accompanied by a heart emoji. Your spirits rise instantly. You send a silent plea to every god out there who’s watching, hoping for no more mishaps tonight.

Time seems to move both too slow and too fast. Every tiny noise from outside makes you jump, wondering if it's her arrival. You go over your preparations one more time: the temperature of the goulash, the volume of the music, the soft glow of the candles.

A soft knock sounds at your door. The moment has arrived. Your heart races as you move to answer it, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You open the door, and there she stands—Wanda Maximoff, perhaps the most powerful Avenger, clad in skin-tight jeans, a long coat over her shoulders and the same nervous smile you’re wearing right now.

“Hi,” she murmurs softly, that European lilt making it sound almost musical.

“Hey, Wanda,” your voice quivers ever so slightly. “Please, come in.”

She steps inside, and you instinctively reach out, helping her slip off the long coat. The soft fabric is warm from her body heat, and you can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you suggest with a gesture towards the plush sofa. She gracefully obliges, her eyes scanning the room.

She takes a moment, head tilted ever so slightly, her nose twitching as it picks up on the scent wafting from the kitchen. “Is that... goulash I smell?” she says, eyes twinkling in delight.

A pleased chuckle escapes you. “Someone's got a good nose.”

In the midst of tweaking the table's placements, you're painfully conscious of every inch of space between you and her. Wanda Maximoff, right in your apartment, seated gracefully on your sofa. The room temperature is already set at the lowest, but you feel unexpectedly warm in your clothes. 

You take a few deep breaths. Center. Ground. Every preparation led to this moment.

Distracted by your own thoughts, you almost miss the soft rustling from the living room. Wanda's eyes are now fixed on the elegantly wrapped gift resting on your coffee table. The parchment paper, crinkled just right, holds a tag with her name in your neat handwriting.

She arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “For me?” she asks, her finger running over her name on the tag.

“Uh, yes,” you stammer, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I thought...well, it's our first, you know, date... and I wanted to get you something.”

She gives you a soft, appreciative smile, her fingers deftly unwrapping the gift. The sight of the Sokovian cookbook draws a genuine, surprised chuckle from her. “You really did your homework,” she teases.

“You're worth the effort,” the words slip out before you can reign them in, and suddenly the room feels a few degrees warmer. But Wanda doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she seems... pleased.

“The jasmine rice will be ready in just a few minutes,” you mention, as you drape the apron on a hook by the kitchen entrance. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. It's just dinner. With Wanda Maximoff. No pressure.

You then make your way to join her on the sofa, deliberately choosing a spot that's comfortably distant. Not too close to be presumptuous, but not too far to seem distant. Or so you think.

However, Wanda doesn't let the spacing go unnoticed. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” she asks with a playful pout.

You blink, momentarily lost for words. “Oh, I just... thought I'd give you some space?”

Wanda smirks, tilting her head slightly, “You're sweet, but you can sit a bit closer if you'd like.”

Swallowing your nerves, you slide a tad bit closer, closing the gap. Now, your knees are almost touching. The proximity introduces you to more intricate details: the scent of her perfume, the subtle shadow on her lids, the faint tint on her lips.

She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Much better, don't you think?”

You gulp, trying to swallow down your body’s reaction to her voice. “Yes,” you breathe out, attempting to find your bearings again. “Definitely better.”

“So,” Wanda starts, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “How does someone like you end up as a dentist?”

“Well, my dad was one. After high school, I honestly didn't have a clear path in mind.” You shrug, your gaze distant as you recollect. “It was kind of a 'fall into the family business' scenario.”

“But do you enjoy it? Being a dentist, I mean.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice,” you confess, a far-off look in your eyes. “I had other hobbies—gardening, painting. There was a time when I thought of diving into the arts.”

“But you didn't?”

You shake your head. “Practicality won over passion, I guess. Dentistry is stable, and I do like it.”

She studies you for a moment. “Do you ever regret it?”

You ponder for a second, thinking about all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. But then, your eyes find Wanda's, and a smile creeps onto your face. “Well, being a dentist did allow our paths to cross. So, in that sense, I can't really complain, can I?”

Wanda's cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink, the faint blush enhancing her striking features.

You’re not entirely sure how you’ve survived so far on this date.

Clearing your throat to ease the building tension, you attempt to shift the topic. “Speaking of paths, how did you end up becoming an Avenger? If you don't mind me asking.”

Wanda's expression quickly darkens, and an immediate regret washes over you. You wish you could retract your question, hating the thought of being the one to bring such sadness to her eyes.

Wanda tells you her story with a distant look in her eyes, like she's replaying a bad dream. She tells you about the Battle of Sokovia, how she lost her twin brother in the midst of it, and how she felt totally alone afterward. With no family or close friends left, she ended up with the Avengers. At first it was a choice of convenience, but she soon started to think of them as her new family.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” you say, not knowing what else to say. You’ve never experienced such pain and loss, especially with your parents and sister living in different states, leading their own lives.

“Thank you,” she whispers, the edges of her eyes glistening. “It's... difficult. Sometimes more than others.”

The soft beep of the rice cooker slices through the heavy atmosphere. You turn towards the kitchen, then back to Wanda, offering an apologetic smile. “Looks like the rice is ready,” you mention, almost sheepishly.

She laughs softly at your politeness and says, “Good. I’m starving.”

-

Wanda Maximoff has a big appetite.

This becomes amusingly clear when she polishes off her plate and shyly requests more rice, eventually consuming the entire portion you'd prepared for the evening. Honestly, you hadn't anticipated this outcome, especially since you weren't entirely sure how goulash was supposed to taste. But seeing Wanda devour nearly all of it not only boosts your confidence in your cooking but also in how the date is progressing.

Honestly, it's been ages since you've been on a date. You keep wracking your brain for topics, wondering if you're saying the right things. But thankfully, it's Wanda who takes the lead, her inquiries steering the chat in various directions. And each time she poses a question, that unique Sokovian accent of hers tugs at you, almost hypnotic. With every word, every soft-spoken syllable, you can feel yourself being drawn closer into Wanda's magnetic pull. It's both exhilarating and terrifying—mostly because you're not sure if you ever want to resist.

Just as you're about to suggest some movies to watch, Wanda's phone rings. You watch her facial expression shift slightly as she answers, her tone professional and measured. “I understand. I'll be right there in an hour,” she says, ending the call and turning to you with a regretful look.

At least you both got through a nice meal. Still, you’re a little disappointed.

“It's the compound. I've got to head back soon. Not an urgent situation, but...” Wanda trails off, her eyes reflecting her regret.

“How long do we have left together?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“About thirty minutes?” Wanda estimates. She then glances at the aftermath of your dinner, “Let me help you clean up.”

“You really don't have to.”

“It's easy. I can just use my powers,” she says, beaming a little proudly.

“I’m intrigued,” you say.

The idea of seeing her powers up close excites you, but as she begins to wave her hand, intending to levitate the dishes, something goes wrong. A misdirected wave of her magic, perhaps due to her eyes being trained on you as she watches your every reaction, causes a sharp knife from the counter to fly towards you. You only realize what's happening when you feel a sting on your arm.

Blood starts to seep through your shirt and Wanda's eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god, I didn't mean to... I'm so sorry,” she stammers, her face pale.

You look down, trying to assess the damage. It's not too deep, but it's definitely more than a scratch.

“Don't worry, it was just an accident,” you reassure her, but the sharp pain suggests you might need medical attention.

Wanda immediately wraps your wound with a clean towel and offers to take you to the hospital. It's quite the unexpected turn for your first date, and as the evening winds down with you in a hospital room, getting stitches, you can't help but chuckle at the situation.

Wanda's face, however, is a picture of raw concern, which to be frank, you find endearing, albeit in a dire context. She stays uncharacteristically silent, her expressive eyes darting between the cut on your arm and the sterile surroundings of the hospital room.

“Hey,” you break the silence, “Talk to me.”

“You know... maybe it's best if we don't see each other again,” she begins, hesitantly. “It's just the first date, and I've already sent you to the hospital.”

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

And you’ve yet to kiss her. 

(You really, really want to.)

“You can't break up with me,” you blurt out.

She looks bewildered, “Why not?”

“Because,” you smirk, wincing a bit as the doctor tightens a stitch, “We're not together. Yet. And if this is your way of getting out of a second date, you're going to have to try harder.”

She looks at you, searching your face as if trying to discern whether you're joking or not. But you're serious. Deadly serious. 

Then an idea comes to her. “Fine, then I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“What–”

“I mean, if we're doing this, it's so I can properly end—”

“No,” you say, your smile widening, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wanda Maximoff, I don’t want to be your girlfriend.”

Her expression grows more solemn, her tone somber. “You need to understand. Being with me is nowhere near normal. I’m dangerous. Everything around me, everything I deal with—it's all dangerous.”

The smile doesn’t leave your lips. “I understand,” you say, “But I still refuse to be your girlfriend.”

“You don’t give up do you?”

“Ask me again on our second date,” you suggest, nodding appreciatively at the doctor to subtly hint it's time for him to leave, as he’s been watching you both fall into each other a bit too long now.

“And I can’t have you blasting ‘Lips of an Angel’ throughout the compound if we call it quits now, can I?” 

Wanda's eyes widen in horror, her hands flying to her face. “How did you even know about that?”

“Vision,” you chuckle. At this point, you’ve totally lost it for this girl. “He sent me a message, thanking me on behalf of Natasha for finally getting you to switch off that track.”

Wanda groans, her face still partially hidden behind her hands. “I can't believe he did that. I'm never going to hear the end of it now.”

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, leaning in closer. “I think it’s adorable.”

Still, Wanda remains quiet, and even though she’s the one who can read minds, you can hear just how loud her thoughts are. Gently, you grasp her hand and stand, pulling her up with you.

“What are we doing?”

“I’ve been patched up,” you note, motioning to your arm. “I’d rather not end our date inside a hospital. Come on.”

-

You insist on driving her back to the compound, despite Wanda's deep concern that you’d be able to handle a stick shift given your recent injury. However, after teasingly reminding her that she’s technically "in debt" for the unintentional knife incident, she finally gives in.

You really just don’t want the night to end with her simply walking away.

And while the two of you bickered over the technicality that Wanda can't really break up with you, there's an underlying fear in you that perhaps this might be the last time you see her.

The drive ends up being a quick one, and in just fifteen minutes, you’re pulling up the compound’s spacious driveway.

Both of you sit there for what seems like an eternity, neither willing to make the first move. Your heart races, beating loudly in your chest, as you keep stealing glances at Wanda, trying to read her expression.

“I... um... had a good time tonight, despite the… yeah,” you stammer out, trying to fill the silence. “Thank you for being there, Wanda.”

She nods, lips parting as if she's about to say something but doesn't. “Thank you for the meal and the cookbook,” she finally says, her voice soft, almost fragile. “And I'm really sorry about your arm.”

“You're welcome, Wanda,” you reply, your heart heavy in your chest.

She offers a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and opens the car door. For a fleeting second, the thought of pulling her back crosses your mind, but you squash it down, not wanting to push your luck. As she steps out, you hope for a 'see you soon' or even just a casual 'later'. But nothing comes. And with a quiet thud, the door closes behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mentally kicking yourself for letting Wanda do the dishes. Maybe none of this would've happened, and she might still be looking forward to another date. You're so lost in your ‘what-ifs’ that you almost miss the sound of hurried footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, the passenger door swings open, and before you can react, Wanda is back inside. She leans over the center console, gently cradling your face with one hand and pulling you into a soft, tentative kiss. 

It's over in a heartbeat, leaving you both breathless.

She pulls away slightly, cheeks flushed, and her eyes brighter. “I didn't want to leave things like that,” she admits.

You smile, still in shock from the unexpected moment. “I'm glad you didn't,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

Even if Wanda had thrown every knife in the room at you, it would still rank as the best date ever.

[zorosbeau33]

Oi, you wanna die? Zoro x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble

❖ One Piece, Zoro x gender neutral reader

❖ Scenarios/Drabble, Established Relationship AU, Protective Boyfriend Zoro

❖ TRIGGER WARNING Unwanted advances from a third party, 18+ Only due to theme

❖ wc: 1706

❖ Prompt "You said no and they didn't listen how does your partner respond?" ❖ Masterlist ❖ Luffy Version

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you all enjoy~ A couple people had requested more of the crew so here is Zoro for a start! I wasn't quite sure where to go with it but I think this will suffice for now!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The marines didn’t seem to notice things were amiss, then again none of them probably dared to imagine the legendary Straw Hat pirates would crash a military gala. Zoro himself fidgeted behind his mask, eye sweeping the room and numbering dozens of high ranking officials. This was definitely not his scene, stuffed into a black and sparkly prince costume with black jewel encrusted mask? Yeah not his style at all. The amount of men and women he’d shrugged off, or downright snubbed tonight in favor of finding more alcohol to drink was staggering. Not that he’d noticed, after one dance that he’d only done because Nami threatened him to do it to blend in long before they’d actually broken in. Flirtations were not his strong suit, and being a firm believer in no ending all advances he was disgusted when several people tried to laugh it off and continue in their attempts to touch him. 

All of this has culminated in the pursing of his lips as he tried not to sneer in disgust. Leaning against a pillar during a brief moment of quiet to himself Zoro once again scanned the room. It was beginning to unnerve him, sure he could see Nami fitting in without any issues wrapped in the arms of a high ranking admiral. Hell he could even see precious precocious prince Sanji with a line of women waiting to dance with him. That might come to bite them in the ass soon if the jealous glares of the womens husbands and wives said anything. However Zoro believed the cook would reap what he sowed and that it was none of his business. What nagged at him however was the evident lack of…you.

For three hours they had patrolled the floor and the garden, and yet you were no where to be found. A frown did manage to tug his lips downwards when he moved around a thick crowd of people and up the stairs. Yes, he should leave it be and concentrate on the mission of extracting all the information they could while Nami stole the key off the admiral and passed it along to Luffy, Robin and Brook. But the nagging sensation of you being missing for THIS long? Nothing normally could stir him to panic-reasonable panic. His captain falling in the water or slingshotting directly at his face was reasonable panic. This was not such a time, bubbles seemed to turn to knots in his gut. His scar itched. 

Halfway up the stairs he heard it, unable to hide his reaction as he perked up swinging his head around towards the sound of a familiar laugh. Zoro felt you before he saw you, Haki registering your presence far closer to him than he had anticipated. In fact there in the middle of the group of people he had been made to work around several times, stood your glorious form. Nami had outdone herself with your outfit and Zoro had almost swallowed his tongue on the ship when he first saw you. Now even more so under the glitter and glow of the chandeliers, your laugh made the tension melt from his muscles while he stopped his prowling to take you in. In this atmosphere you were radiant, seemingly to have been born out of the most beautiful emerald just to grace the presence of those around you. The jewel encrusted mask covering your face only added to the mystery around you, causing those around you to lean in all the closer. Perhaps you needed no savior, though Zoro felt it his first duty as the man that belonged to you. Swordsmiths above he was so smitten with you, lingering on the stairs above your group to watch you, scowl melting into a tender smile. He would have to apologize to Nami and Luffy later, his sword was supposed to belong to his captain then the mission. But here the only person he could allow claim to him was your radiance. A betrayal he was sure they would understand, it was common knowledge to all of the crew that his heart and soul had found their home in your hands. 

So imagine his rage when your smile fell away into a look of shock, yanking your arm back from the grips of a pot bellied slobbering ‘gentleman’. Capable like he knew you were, you quickly extricated yourself from the pudgy admiral who reeked of weaks old cheese and beer. The gaudy prince attire nearly popping buttons off as the heavy drinker puffed himself up indignantly. Zoro would miss the next few moments as he rushed down the staircase and began to force his way through the gasping and shocked onlookers who had until this moment been fawning over your intelligence and eloquent words. His fury was three fold for he knew how hard you had practiced to learn all these speech patterns and points of talk to be a good distraction as needed by the plan. However when the noise of a slap rang out he couldn’t help but bark a command for the people in front to move.

Being all of military standing or married into, they felt his haki and heard his commands and moved apart at once. Years of training telling even the higher ranks this must be someone  with power and the gravitas of higher station To do such a thing at the military gala. Relief infantesimally warmed his cold gaze, the sound of the slap had in fact come from your strike and not the admirals. Zoro knew this man too well, he’d bought and blustered his way up to the position he was in now, and falling out of graces with Akainu’s strength based rule had resorted to underhanded trickery and binge drinking. 

“Once a sleeze ball always a sleezeball.” scoffed someone in the crowd as a woman pulled you closer to herself and away from the enraged man before you. Bits of wien splattered down his front as he spluttered and clutched his hand to his chest, beer belly nearly busting his gaudy belt buckle. 

“Admiral he started it! They told him no and he tried to force it! Should we court marshal him?” A young Captain stepped forward to report to Zoro, also taking on a defensive stance in front of you. To your credit you were playing the distressed and meak house spouse very well, although he knew just from looking your strike had most probably broken at least two of the mans meaty fingers. Thankfully it seemed his display had caused others to believe him to be an important military official rather than raise suspicion about his person. Zoro gathered himself together, he couldn’t afford to make too much of a scene here. While everyones masks and disguises made the party much safer for them to intervene. They did not need to draw to many eyes upon themselves or else the costumed Zoro’s in the crowd might jog someones mind to realize the real one was standing in front of them. After that it would only be a matter of minutes before the others would get picked out from the crowd as well. 

He needed to protect you, but in a way that would seem appropriate and take attention off of you both and quickly. Squaring his shoulders Zoro tutted and switched all his weight to his right foot, arm resting on the hilt of his single sword. Adapting the posture of a haughty admiral was not difficult it often amused him when he was a bounty hunter to see all of their posturing, the arrogance was easy to emulate. A flick of the hand had several people stepping forward seizing the admirals wrists and forcing them behind him. 

“This is a party, I advise you keep your voice down before I report your misdeeds to headquarters directly…” His deep voice rumbled and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Take him out of here without a scene, knock him out if you have to. The part-the gala is a place only those of high standing are allowed. Such behavior will not be tolerated, have him placed on trial…tomorrow morning he can sit in the cells for tonight.” 

The man bellowed his outrage, stating his rank and to unhand him right this moment. In an instant Zoro’s hand was around his skull, and squeezing. Rage turned into pain and he gasped spluttering in pain, the captains almost dropping him in shock at the speed of Zoro’s moves. 

“OI…do you wanna die?” Zoro growled lowly so only he and the two captains could hear. They froze and stared in shock and fear. The rage he had felt upon seeing the man place his hand on you without your consent, causing his pupils to dilate. Haki spreading over his fingertips hidden only by the gloves that accented his outfit. Blood pounding in his ears, ready to lay this man to sleep for his crime. The smell of the admiral wetting himself hardly registering to his senses, how dare this scum…Barely reeling himself in Zoro leaned back out and let him go. “You already placed your hands on my partner and now you disgrace this place. Get him out of our sight.” 

Turning quickly on his heel Zoro took his handkerchief out and wiped the makeup from the admiral off his fingers in a show of disgust. Reeling in his rage before stopping in front of you again, thanking the woman in a low murmur as he took you from her grip. People bowed and scuttled out of his way while he hurriedly guided you away to the gardens, arm wrapped securely around your waist. Once in the open air he sighed in relief and slowed down checking on you now as he readied himself for Nami to beat him over the head once you returned to the ship. Yes you could have defended yourself, and you certainly had but he would always be here to ensure that you would be okay. Even if you teased him for his bad acting skills for the rest of his life, you being safe and your boundaries being respected were far more than worth it in his mind.

[doumadono]

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, fem!reader, viking themes, seer!Mirko, blood

Summary: the Earl sought counsel from the seer, seeking guidance after Shoto's proposition to send him and Touya on a mission to the north. Concerned about the rumors surrounding the mission, you resolved to extract information directly from Shoto

Word count: circa 6.5k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

MASTERLIST KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT III - SEEKING ANSWERS

The cold winds of late autumn swept through the rugged hills as earl Endeavor rode toward the dwelling of the renowned seer, Mirko. His thoughts were consumed by the intriguing proposition his youngest son, Shoto, had presented regarding a land rich in goods. The idea of sending his eldest son, Touya, to oversee this promising territory crossed the earl's mind, a strategic move that could secure his settlement's prosperity.

Upon reaching Mirko's abode, the atmosphere seemed to change. The air grew thick with an otherworldly aura, and the eerie silence made the settlement's seer even more intimidating. Mirko was a young woman with a fearsome reputation, her presence alone sending shivers down the spines of those who sought her guidance. Mirko was not beautiful in the conventional sense; her appearance held an unsettling allure. Long, wild locks framed her face, and her eyes, intense and piercing, seemed to hold secrets of both past and future. Tribal markings adorned her skin, marking her as a conduit to the spiritual realm.

Earl Endeavor, a man hardened by battles and strategic decisions, felt a twinge of uncertainty as he approached the seer.

Mirko's dwelling, draped in dark fabrics and adorned with symbols, exuded an aura of mysticism. She welcomed him with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "My lord," she spoke, her voice a haunting melody, "what brings you to seek the guidance of the unseen?"

Endeavor hesitated momentarily before speaking. "I come seeking counsel, Mirko. My youngest son has spoken of a land rich in goods. I contemplate sending my eldest, Dabi, to oversee it. What do you foresee in the tapestry of fate?"

Mirko, seated in the midst of her mystical domain, gestured for Endeavor to sit.

Endeavor unfolded his plan, explaining the potential prosperity and influence this land could bring. "I intend to send Dabi to ensure our dominance over this territory. What do your visions reveal?"

The air thickened with an unspoken power, and her haunting hums echoed through the room. The earl observed, a sense of unease settling over him as he witnessed the seer's transformation.

Her eyes closed, Mirko began to sway rhythmically, her body guided by an unseen force. The haunting melody of her hums intensified, creating an otherworldly atmosphere within the sacred space.

Endeavor found himself being on the precipice of something beyond his understanding.

Her voice carried a spectral melody, and the room seemed to pulse with an unseen heartbeat. Mirko's eyes, still closed, painted visions of impending doom with her words.

"In darkness veiled, the land awaits, Echoes of sorrow, at destiny's gates. A wolf, fierce, prowls in the night, A dance with death, a sinister delight."

The seer's hands moved gracefully through the air, as if conducting an unseen symphony of fate. Her words painted vivid images of a land consumed by shadows and the imminent clash between two primal forces.

"An eagle, majestic and bold, Descends from heights, its destiny foretold. A battle fierce, 'neath the moonlit gleam, In shadows cast, where spirits teem."

The eagle and wolf, symbols of opposing forces, danced in the tapestry of Mirko's vision. The room echoed with the weight of her words, each rhyme a forewarning etched in the annals of fate.

"Blood on feathers, and darkness entwined, A struggle unfolds, destinies aligned. In the land cursed, where choices are made, The echo of battle, in shadows will fade."

"What does it mean?!" The earl growled loudly. "Tell me, now!"

As Mirko's body moved, a voice emerged from her lips, yet it seemed detached, as if another entity spoke through her. The words, laden with an eerie resonance, foretold a grim fate awaiting those who ventured into the land Shoto had spoken of. "The path you tread is bathed in blood, earl Endeavor. Death dances upon the horizon, and shadows darker than the night itself await those who dare to grasp the threads of destiny."

Endeavor felt a chill coursing through him. Mirko's words seemed like a macabre prophecy, a dire warning wrapped in a melody that resonated with the spirits of the unseen.

"Blood will stain the soil, and death will be the echo that reverberates through the ages. The spirits speak of a land cursed by the choices of the living," Mirko continued, her voice carrying the weight of the ethereal.

Endeavor, despite his stoic exterior, couldn't shake the disquiet settling in his chest. Mirko, in her trance, spoke as if guided by forces beyond mortal comprehension. The grim portrait she painted clashed with the earl's visions of conquest and prosperity.

As Mirko's humming reached a haunting crescendo, she opened her eyes, the once vacant gaze now piercing through the fabric of fate. The trance lifted, leaving the seer standing before Endeavor, a conduit between the living and the unseen.

"The spirits have spoken, my lord. The path ahead is shrouded in darkness, and the choices you make will echo through the very essence of time," Mirko uttered, her words lingering in the air like an unspoken decree from the spirits themselves.

Endeavor leaned forward, his expression stern. "Speak plainly, Mirko."

Mirko's voice carried a weight beyond the present. "The flames may consume not only the intended but all who stand too close. Choices shape destinies," the woman replied mysteriously.

Endeavor emerged from Mirko's dimly lit hut, the weight of her prophecy hanging in the air like a shroud of uncertainty. The pale light of the moon bathed the settlement nearby in an eerie glow as the earl took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Silence enveloped him, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Endeavor closed his eyes, reflecting on the words Mirko had spoken. Despite the foreboding visions, a resolute determination burned within him. He knew the risks, but the allure of wealth and power beckoned him forward.

Turning to Mirko, he offered a nod of gratitude. "Thank you for your insights, Mirko. May the spirits guide us through the shadows." As a token of appreciation, Endeavor gently took Mirko's palm in his hands and pressed a grateful kiss upon it.

The seer's eyes, still veiled in the mystery of her visions, met his with a knowing gaze.

Mounting his horse, Endeavor set forth, determined to confront the future that awaited him. The night held its breath as Endeavor rode back to the settlement, a lone figure against the canvas of the darkened landscape. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but the ember of ambition burned brightly within him, lighting the path toward the destiny he sought.

Dabi sat in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, his presence almost like a shadow against the flickering candlelight. The rhythmic sound of a whetstone against his sword filled the air, a comforting repetition that matched the beat of his troubled thoughts.

The raucous atmosphere of the tavern buzzed around him, but the glances thrown his way were not ones of admiration or desire. The courtesans, usually attentive to potential patrons, seemed to cast him disgusted looks. Even though he was the heir to the earldom, the one who would sit on the throne after his father's eventual passing, they all were disgusted by him. His status brought him no favors in this realm of longing and fleeting connections.

Dabi's eyes occasionally flickered across the room, catching those disdainful glares. He couldn't deny the sharp pang in his chest — a mix of frustration and a longing for a connection he had been denied for so long. He had grown accustomed to rejection, so much so that he had stopped actively seeking companionship. Still, the yearning for the warmth and softness of a woman's touch lingered, a desire he had learned to bury deep within.

As he took a swig of ale, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the bitterness that had settled in his heart. Dabi continued to polish his sword, the repetitive motion a way to distract himself from the disapproving looks that haunted him. In the midst of the crowded tavern, he remained a solitary figure, surrounded by people but untouched by the warmth of human connection.

The loud thud echoed through the quiet walls of the Great Hall, jolting you awake from your shallow slumber. Concern etched across your face as you rushed out of the room you shared with Hilda, following the source of the commotion. The dimly lit corridor led you to Dabi's chamber, where you found him struggling to regain his balance, a victim of the ale's intoxicating effects.

"Easy there," you said, your voice soft but laced with genuine concern. "Need a hand?"

Dabi looked up at you, his turquoise eyes momentarily clouded with confusion before recognition set in. He grunted in agreement, accepting your offered help. Together, you steadied him, and he leaned against the wall for support. The flickering light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on both of you, creating an unexpected intimacy in that late-night encounter.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his usual aloofness momentarily giving way to a hint of vulnerability. The moment was fleeting, but it lingered in the air as you helped him back into his chamber.

You assisted Touya onto his bed. The warmth of the hearth seemed to soften the edges of the usually stern and enigmatic man. However, as you turned to leave, his hand shot out, gently grasping your wrist. When you met his eyes, you were met with a vulnerability that seemed to pierce through his usual façade.

"Stay," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of desperation.

You hesitated. The rules that governed your roles in this Viking settlement were clear, and getting too close to someone of higher standing could invite trouble. Yet, the sadness in his eyes and the unspoken plea tugged at your empathy.

"I… I shouldn't," you started, but he tightened his grip ever so slightly.

"Please," he whispered, his tone a mixture of loneliness and longing.

In that moment, you found it difficult to resist. Against your better judgment, you stayed, settling on a bed beside him. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Touya's eyes never left yours.

The room was shrouded in shadows, and the warmth of the fire seemed to cocoon you and Touya in a fragile bubble of shared vulnerability.

With a hesitant yet genuine smile, Touya broke the silence. "Tell me about your homeland," he requested, his eyes showing a glimmer of curiosity.

His request hung in the air like a delicate thread, and you couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh before responding. "You want to hear about the place you tore me away from? Like a flower ripped out of the life-giving soil?" Your words held a weight, a mix of resentment and sorrow.

Touya met your gaze, his expression carrying the burden of understanding the pain he had caused. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and sincere.

In the flickering glow of the fire, you began to weave a tale of your homeland. Your words painted a vivid picture of quaint cottages with thatched roofs, their walls weathered by the salty breeze that swept in from the sea. The narrow cobblestone streets echoed with the laughter of children playing and the rhythmic sounds of craftsmen honing their skills. "Near the shore, where the cliffs stood tall and proud, we built a small chapel—a haven of solace and prayer. Its stone walls echoed with hymns, and the air was filled with the scent of incense," you recounted, your voice carrying the nostalgia of a place left behind.

As you spoke, Touya's piercing eyes remained fixed on you, absorbing every detail of this distant world he never truly understood. The contrast between the harsh Viking settlements and the idyllic Christian village seemed stark.

"The coastline, painted in hues of blue and gray, witnessed the ebb and flow of tides. Fishing boats set sail at dawn, their sails billowing in the morning breeze, while the cliffs provided a vantage point for the villagers to gaze upon the vast horizon," you continued.

Touya's features softened as he envisioned the serene landscape you described, a world far removed from the tumultuous life he had known. Touya's eyes closed, a faint smile gracing his lips as he absorbed the essence of your words. "You must have been missing the place ever since," he pointed out, the words carrying a gentle understanding of the yearning that comes with reminiscing about a home left behind.

You nodded quietly, the flames of a fireplace reflecting in your eyes. "Indeed. The memories are like whispers of a distant melody, a reminder of a life that once was. I can almost feel the salt-laden wind against my face, hear the distant hymns in the chapel. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I close my eyes and pretend I'm back there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home."

Touya's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression, as the echoes of your quiet sobbing reached his ears. He opened his eyes, and there he found you, tears streaming down your cheeks, your gaze fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

His heart constricted with an unexpected ache. A flicker of empathy illuminated his usually guarded gaze.

"But it is all gone. All gone. You and your people took everything from me. And now I'm here, locked in a cage of a shadow of something once called life. Apparently, this was God's plan for me," your voice carried a weight of bitterness and sorrow.

His gaze softened as he watched you, the firelight casting shadows on your tear-streaked face. "Gods have their own way of weaving destinies, entangling lives in threads that stretch across time and space. Perhaps, just perhaps, there's a reason our paths crossed in this tumultuous journey."

You gave Touya a searching look, the flickering firelight dancing in your eyes, and asked, "What do you mean? Why would the God bring me here, to this… place of captivity?"

Touya looked at you with a glint of intensity in his eyes. "Our gods are different, you know. Freya, Odin, they're not like your Christian God. They're not confined to a single doctrine. They're free, just like the wind that sweeps through these icy lands. And I believe, with all my heart, that the Allfather sent me to your village for a reason, and that reason was you."

You couldn't help but snort at his words. "You're drunk, Touya. Those gods of yours aren't guiding anything. I'm here because of the whims of men, not gods."

Touya locked eyes with you, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken emotions. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer until there was barely any space between you. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You're beautiful."

His breath sent shivers down your spine, and before you could fully comprehend his words, his lips boldly found yours. Shock coursed through you at the unexpected kiss, your first taste of such intimacy. The heavy scent of alcohol lingered on his tongue, but amidst the surprise, you felt a strange warmth. You hesitated at first, unsure of how to respond, but the gravity of the moment pulled you in.

As the kiss continued, you found yourself brushing your lips against his, a hesitant exploration of uncharted territory. The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, bearing witness to a connection that transcended the roles you were assigned in this harsh world.

The following day, Endeavor summoned Dabi to his side, his face stern and determined. The air in the room felt heavy with an unspoken gravity as Dabi approached his father. "Touya," Endeavor began, his voice cutting through the silence, "I have a mission for you."

Dabi's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and apprehension. "What kind of mission?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Endeavor.

Endeavor's eyes bore into his son's, revealing a mix of authority and expectation. "You, Shoto, and a selected group of warriors, including Hawks, will be sent to the northern part of Sweden. There's a land there with potential, rich in resources. It's time to expand our influence, and you're crucial to this endeavor."

Dabi nodded, acknowledging the weight of the task ahead. The mention of Shoto and Hawks in the same mission stirred a sense of unease, but he kept his emotions in check. "Understood," he replied, his tone resolute.

Endeavor continued to lay out the details of the mission, his plans unfolding as a complex web of politics, power, and strategy.

Little did Dabi know that this journey would lead to unforeseen challenges, testing not only his strength as a warrior but also the bonds that held his family together.

Hilda approached you with a furrowed brow, a concerned expression etched across her features. The flickering light of the torches in the chamber cast shadows that danced upon the walls as she spoke. "Y/N, I need to talk to you," she said in a hushed tone.

You looked up, sensing the seriousness in her voice. "What is it, Hilda?" you asked, your eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and apprehension.

She took a moment before responding, choosing her words carefully. "I think I just need a listening ear. Touya is going on another mission. But what worries me more is that Shoto, his younger brother, is being sent alongside him."

You furrowed your brows, recognizing the tension between the two brothers. "Isn't that a cause for concern? They don't exactly get along, do they?"

Hilda nodded solemnly. "No, they don't. The earl's decision to send them together is raising suspicions. It's a risky move, and I fear it might not bode well for the stability of the mission."

Concern etched across your face as you contemplated the potential consequences of such a decision. The dynamics between the two brothers were already strained, and sending them on a mission together seemed like a recipe for conflict. Hilda's worry mirrored your own, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on both your minds.

You finished brushing your hair, the strands flowing smoothly through the comb. The flickering candlelight in your chamber created a soft ambiance, but your thoughts were far from the present moment. Hilda's words echoed in your mind, and the worry for Touya settled like a heavy stone in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to Hilda, who was quietly arranging some furs in a corner of the room. "Hilda," you began hesitantly, "is there really nothing we can do for Touya? I can't shake off this feeling of unease."

Hilda paused, her gaze meeting yours. The lines on her face spoke of years of experience and wisdom. "Y/N, sometimes the currents of fate are beyond our control. All we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. Right now, the best course is to stay vigilant and hope for the best."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The unpredictable nature of the situation left you feeling powerless, and it frustrated you. "But what if something happens to him? What if Shoto…"

Hilda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We can't predict the future, dear. All we can do is be prepared for whatever comes our way. Keep an eye on the situation, and if there's an opportunity to help, we'll take it. For now, focus on your tasks and be vigilant."

You sighed, acknowledging the wisdom in her advice.

Hilda observed you with a shrewd gaze, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. As you finished your nightly routine and settled onto the furs, she couldn't help but voice the question that lingered in her mind. "Y/N," the woman began, her voice gentle yet probing, "forgive me if I overstep, but your interactions with Touya have been minimal. Why this sudden concern for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering your words carefully. The truth was, your initial reservations about Dabi were not baseless, but something about Touya's vulnerability had stirred a different emotion within you. You looked at Hilda, deciding to share a part of your thoughts. "I may not like him, but I can't shake off the feeling that there's more to Touya than what meets the eye. The way he spoke about his past, about losing everything, it resonated with me. It's not pity, Hilda, but a sense of understanding, maybe empathy. And now, knowing he's going on this dangerous mission alongside Shoto, it's hard to ignore the worry."

Hilda's smirk widened as she spoke, her eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "Oh, my dear, I can see your cheeks flushing when you speak about him so fondly. You're having a crush, am I right?"

Hilda's smirk didn't go unnoticed, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Her teasing words struck a nerve, and a flicker of irritation danced in your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hilda. It's just concern for a fellow human being," you retorted, your tone defensive.

Hilda chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Concern, my dear, often wears a different face. There's no shame in admitting you care for him. After all, this world is full of unexpected twists, isn't it?"

You pursed your lips, attempting to maintain composure. Deep down, you knew there was a kernel of truth in Hilda's words. The concern for Touya had indeed taken a different form, and your heart acknowledged a connection that transcended mere worry. Yet, admitting it to yourself felt like navigating uncharted waters.

Ignoring Hilda's knowing gaze, you turned away, feigning disinterest. But within, a storm of conflicting emotions raged, and you couldn't deny the impact Touya had made on your guarded heart.

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning in your simple bed, a peculiar yet potentially useful idea began to form in your mind. The notion of extracting information from Shoto about his plans took root, and you found yourself contemplating the details of how to execute this risky but potentially advantageous scheme.

The flickering light of the dim chamber barely illuminated your face as you hatched a plan to subtly and strategically approach Shoto. The urgency of the situation and the looming mission compelled you to consider taking matters into your own hands, even if it meant navigating the treacherous waters of deceit. With a determined resolve, you prepared yourself mentally for the intricate dance of conversation that lay ahead.

In your best dress, adorned with the finest that could be salvaged among the thralls, you made your way to the tavern after learning from Natsuo that Shoto was seen going out with a warrior named Hawks. As you stepped out, the cool breeze of the late afternoon caressed your face, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

Arriving at the tavern, you could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking mugs seeping through the wooden door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open, revealing the warm, dimly lit interior. The air was thick with the scent of ale and the low hum of conversations. You scanned the room, finally spotting Shoto and Hawks in a corner, engaged in a conversation.

Shoto's two-colored hair caught the wavering light as he raised his tankard in a toast. "To power and the thrill of the hunt," he declared with a smirk, taking a long swig.

Hawks leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.

The duo seemed engrossed in conversation, their laughter mingling with the low hum of the tavern. Female thralls, drawn by their presence, attempted to engage in conversation, but the exchanges were marked by a darkness that hinted at their underlying intentions. Shoto and Hawks were having fun in the company of two thralls with exotic features that hinted at a southern origin. The air was charged with an unmistakable tension as the men engaged in flirtatious banter.

One of the thralls, feigning coyness, asked, "What brings you to our humble company tonight?"

Shoto, with a sly grin, leaned in to the thrall seated by his side, and said, "Oh, just the usual – seeking a bit of warmth in this frigid place. Perhaps you ladies could provide some, hmmm?" He mused, running his hand up and down the girl's shoulder.

The other thrall, playing along, responded, "Warmth, you say? Well, you might need to work hard to earn that from us."

Shoto frowned a little, yet his voice stayed low and smooth, "You seem to be unaware of my position, woman. I am the heir to earl Endeavor, and I demand that you address me with the respect befitting my status," he forcefully grabbed the other woman by her shoulder, causing her to tumble off her chair and land on the floor next to him. "So, I suggest you watch your manners, for I am the best you can find in this establishment. Consider your words carefully before opening that foolish mouth of yours next time."

Hawks nodded in agreement, "Indeed, the gentleman here is right. Shoto, don't scare the lady."

The conversations continued in this bold and wry manner, each word dripping with innuendo as the men skillfully navigated the delicate dance of desire. The atmosphere in the tavern buzzed with anticipation as the thralls played their part in the seductive exchange, the one that previously ended on the floor now sat quietly, letting Hawks wrap his strong arms around her shoulders as his hand was playing with her breasts from time to time.

Summoning your courage, you approached them, the rhythmic thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. As you drew nearer, you caught Shoto's eye, and a subtle smirk crept onto his face. Hawks, on the other hand, eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The atmosphere shifted as you prepared to enter a world of alliances and secrets, uncertain of what the outcome might be.

"Well, well, what brings you to this den of sin all alone? Where's your precious Touya? Couldn't keep up with his demands?" the youngest Endeavorson taunted, his tone laced with amusement.

You brushed off his wry remark. "I think it's time for us to bury the hatchet. Our relationship didn't start on the best note, and I believe we can find a way to coexist peacefully."

He looked at you, seemingly surprised by your suggestion. Shoto considered your words, and after a moment, he offered you a seat with them.

Throughout the interaction, Hawks observed the scene. You gave him a brief smile, trying to maintain a cool demeanor in the company of the two men.

Shoto turned to you with an air of faux politeness, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I believe we can have a civilized conversation, don't you?" His eyes darted towards the thrall who had been seated beside him, and with a dismissive gesture, he uttered, "You, leave us."

The thrall shot you a cold glance before complying with Shoto's request and vacating the space.

Now alone, Shoto leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "There, much better. Now, let's chat, shall we?"

You took a deep breath before speaking, "I must admit, despite the fear you instill within me, there's a certain charisma about you. It's hard not to notice."

Shoto's grin widened, appreciating the acknowledgment. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. And by the way, I quite like your accent. It adds a certain charm." His compliment was laced with a hint of mischief as he reached his hand out to briefly rub your shoulder.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Shoto's hand landed on your shoulder. Suppressing a wince, you decided to play along with his casual demeanor. When he asked about the real reason for your visit, you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, I just wanted to get to know you a little better, my lord."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, considering your words. "Interesting choice of words. Here, have some mead." He poured some into a wooden mug and handed it to you, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You accepted, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

Hawks, with a twinkle in his golden eyes, couldn't help but comment, "Quite a beauty you have here, Shoto. Earl Endeavor's thralls are indeed a treasure."

Shoto, taking a sip of his mead, glanced at you and replied wryly, "All Christian women have this softness within them. I just happen to enjoy breaking it." His words were delivered with a certain darkness that sent a chill down your spine.

Trying to maintain composure, you played along, responding with a forced smile, as you looked at Shoto's companion, "Well, thank you for the compliment, sir."

As Shoto continued to drink, you couldn't shake off the unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As more mugs of mead were emptied by the men and the atmosphere in the tavern grew warmer, you mustered the courage to bring up the topic that had been gnawing at your thoughts. Leaning in, you addressed Shoto, "Forgive me for intruding, but I overheard that you and Touya are going on a mission. Is it true?"

Shoto's eyes, a mix of icy determination and something unreadable, met yours. He took a moment, swirling the remnants of his mead in his mug before responding, "Yes, a mission to the north. Father believes it's a land rich in resources, and he wants us to secure it for the settlement."

Hawks, who had been listening attentively, chimed in, "Aye, a mission of great importance. The north can be treacherous, though. Many dangers await those who venture into the unknown."

You nodded, though a lingering concern for Touya flickered in your eyes. "What kind of dangers are you talking about? Is it just the harsh conditions of the north, or is there something else we should be aware of?"

Shoto's stoic expression betrayed little, leaving you to wonder about the true nature of the mission and what it might mean for both brothers.

Hawks took a sip from his mead, his golden eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and wariness. "The north is a wild place, full of untamed landscapes and creatures. Wolves, bears, and more roam freely. Not to mention, the weather can be brutal, especially this time of year."

Shoto's gaze never wavered as he observed your reaction to Hawks' nonchalant explanation.

You sensed there might be more to the story, but both men remained guarded in their responses.

Shoto's sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard, his hand landing on your knee with an unexpected boldness. He began to rub your knee casually, his gaze steady as he threw a question your way. "Let's change the topic, my dear. The ruggedness of our upcoming mission might be a bit too much for a delicate female mind like yours to comprehend," he remarked, his fingers tracing small circles on your knee, playing with the hems of your dress. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in, his tone low and almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, has my older brother had his way with you yet?"

You felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance at his audacity, but you tried to maintain composure. "That's none of your business, Shoto," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And the mission—"

"Oh, don't play coy," he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'm genuinely curious. After all, I'd hate for you to miss out on experiencing the full range of pleasures in our little settlement."

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, and you found yourself navigating the conversation with a mix of caution and defiance, unsure of where Shoto was leading with his intrusive inquiries.

You met Shoto's audacious question with a bold response. "No, my lord, I haven't been with anyone, ever," you asserted, trying to maintain a sense of control in the conversation.

Hawks chimed in with a cryptic comment, "Well, isn't that a rare treasure in these parts. A thrall with untouched cunny, how intriguing."

You shot a wary glance at Hawks, uncertain about the implications of his words.

Shoto, however, seemed more amused than surprised, his smirk widening as if he had expected such a revelation. "You're missing out on experiences, thrall. I could show you what it's like. I doubt my older brother knows how to please a woman. Look at him, covered in scars, a truly disgusting sight. No normal woman would willingly lie with such a damaged man."

You felt Shoto's hand sliding beneath the fabric of your dress, making your breath catch in your throat. His audacious suggestion hung in the air, and the atmosphere became charged with tension.

You pulled away, a mix of surprise and discomfort evident on your face. "Maybe… Nut I didn't have enough mead yet, my lord," you asserted, trying to maintain a semblance of control over the situation.

Shoto, undeterred, leaned in with a sly grin. "Afraid of a little adventure? I promise you, it'll be an experience you won't forget," he whispered, his mismatched eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

As Shoto poured another mug of mead for you, you discreetly took small sips, ensuring that the majority of the liquid found its way into Hawks' cup while the two men were engrossed in conversation. The effects of the mead were beginning to show on Shoto, but you remained clear-headed.

The conversation in the tavern continued, filled with laughter and raucous chatter. You observed Shoto's growing inebriation and wondered if this was the opportune moment to extract information about the mission.

As Shoto, in a visibly inebriated state, decided to make his way back to the Great Hall, Hawks was more than willing to accompany him. However, seizing the opportunity to gather more information, you stepped forward and offered to walk Shoto back on his behalf. Hawks, busy with the two other thralls he managed to lure, readily agreed.

With Shoto leaning on you for support, you began the journey back to the Great Hall. The night air was crisp, and the sound of distant revelry echoed through the settlement. As you walked, you subtly steered the conversation toward the mission, aiming to extract any valuable details Shoto might unwittingly reveal in his inebriated state. As Shoto stumbled beside you, you ventured to ask, "Shoto, why do you harbor such resentment toward Touya? It seems like there's a lot of tension between you two."

Shoto's response was punctuated by occasional hiccups, and he spoke with a slurred cadence, "Touya… he's always been the favorite. Father sees him as the rightful heir, even after he attempted on killing him… When he was a baby… I'm just… the spare. I've had to fight for every scrap of approval, every shred of acknowledgment. It's fucking infuriating."

His words were tinged with a mix of bitterness and vulnerability, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of their strained relationship.

Shoto's alcohol-laden breath hung in the night air as he delved deeper into the caverns of his animosity. His words spilled out, laced with venom and a fervent desire for retribution. "You see, Y/N… Touya has always been the golden child… Father dotes on him, oblivious to the struggles I faced. I fought tooth and nail, but in his eyes, I'm still the disappointment." His voice resonated with a toxic blend of envy and resentment. "I wish he'd disappear, fade away… It would be so much easier without him overshadowing me at every turn… Fucking Touya. Father might finally see my worth."

As he spoke, you couldn't help but sense the profound wounds that fueled Shoto's disdain for his older brother, wondering if there was any way to mend the frayed bonds between them.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the huge, wooden door to the Great Hall. In the dimly lit hallway, you guided Shoto with careful steps, avoiding any unnecessary noise. As you reached his chamber, the weight of your question hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "My lord… Do you plan to harm your older brother during this mission?"

He paused, his drunken demeanor momentarily overshadowed by a serious glint in his eyes. "Hurt him? No. But if fate has other plans for him, who am I to intervene?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if Shoto's words held any truth or if they were merely intoxicated ramblings. As you opened the door and let go of his waist, you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that there was more beneath the surface of his seemingly casual response. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across his face, adding an enigmatic air to the entire exchange.

The sudden force of Shoto's grip on your waist surprised you, and before you could react, his lips collided with yours in a messy, drunken kiss. The taste of mead lingered on his breath, making the encounter less pleasant than you might have imagined. You winced, feeling a mix of discomfort and confusion as the moment unfolded.

Shoto's hand slipped beneath your dress and moved up your leg, resting between your thighs. As he pulled away, his eyes were glazed, and he chuckled under his breath, resting his back against the wooden wall. "You're an interesting one, Y/N," he slurred, releasing his hold on you and stumbling into his chamber. "I'll make sure you're mine, not his." The door closed behind him, leaving you standing in the hallway, processing the unexpected exchange with your palm pressed against your mouth.

As you turned around, your heart sank, its rhythm momentarily disrupted - there, in the corridor, stood Touya. His expression held a mixture of surprise and shock as he observed you, and an unspoken tension hung in the air.

Touya's harsh words hung in the air, stinging like a bitter truth. "I can't believe you're like that, Y/N, letting my brother touch you this way. I thought you were different, not like every other thrall, but I guess I was wrong."

A lump formed in your throat as you desperately wanted to explain, to make him understand, but before you could utter a single word, Touya turned on his heel and left, the resounding crash of the door slamming shut echoing through the dimly lit corridor.

Now, you found yourself standing alone, the weight of his accusations settling in. The corridor seemed colder, lonelier in the aftermath of his anger. You replayed the scene in your mind, the hurt etched on Touya's face, the disappointment in his voice. It was a bitter cocktail of emotions that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The truth was, you never intended to betray or hurt Touya. You considered chasing after him, explaining that it wasn't as it seemed, that your intentions were never to betray him. But the finality of that slamming door weighed heavily on your shoulders.

A lone tear traced the contours of your cheek, a delicate testament to the waning emotions within. It was as if you had relinquished something profoundly vital, a precious fragment of your life slipping away, leaving behind a poignant void.

heathen wolves: @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot

[mixelation]

reborn au, deidara POV. start of the chunin exams

Deidara sat across the desk from the Hokage, wedged between Itachi and Tori. Oonoki, and any commanding officer below him, would have made him stand, even if he was bleeding out. 

Minato, meanwhile, tended to make meetings feel more like a conversation. Brief communications were done standing, but for their longer meetings he’d gesture for them to pull up chairs and then lean back casually in his own seat. He usually didn’t even complain if someone interrupted him with questions. 

(Which Team 4 did. A lot. Because Itachi and Tori were both assholes who thought they were smarter than they were. Deidara, meanwhile, only had the most salient of interruptions.)

MInato did this even with super serious missions, like his insane plot to have them enter the Iwa Chunin Exam as cover to extract a Konoha prisoner.

Deidara wasn’t sure if Minato was so casual for all his shinobi, or if being on his wife’s team got them special privileges. Kushina-sensei had, in fact, chosen to sit on the desk rather than a chair, the backs of her sandals clunking against the wood. But even if it was just a perk of being on Kushina-sensei’s team, Deidara would take this lax style over anything Iwa ever put him through. 

“Iwa sent their finalized list of contraband,” Minato said, voice cheerful. He held up a stack of papers. “I’ll read them to you. It’s pretty intense.”

The list was… lengthy. And sort of insane. They banned them from bringing in their own weapons, promising to provide adequate replacements upon arrival. They also banned all fuinjutsu related material, including any type of paper or writing utensil, and then an increasingly unhinged list of items which seem to pose no real danger to Deidara. 

Minato’s voice cracked at reading the phrase “nectars and other viscous juices,” and then he turned and coughed a couple times to cover up laughter. 

Kushina-sensei was also covering a smile with one hand. 

“Did they put an insane person in charge of communications?” Deidara asked. 

“No, they…” Minato had to pause a moment to get ahold of himself again. “They really, really don’t want you sneaking in a Hiraishin marker. Or making a new one.”

“Sorry,” Kushina-sensei told them, not looking the least bit sorry. “They’re probably only this paranoid because I’m your sensei.”

This did make sense to Deidara. The Iwa he’d grown up in, in the other timeline, had been one in which the Yellow Flash was dead and gone, and the man was still haunting old people’s nightmares. Some of Deidara’s older Academy texts had been from before his death, and they’d included insane protocols for what to do if he showed up on the field. Not a Konoha ninja, not a ninja with a specific technique– just him. No other Kage had such an honor. 

He could only imagine the sort of cultural anxiety Minato was inflicting on Iwa just by existing. 

The idea was sort of exiting, actually. All that fear and anxiety building up for years, just waiting for someone to come along and end it all in one glorious moment–

Tori elbowed him. To Minato, she asked, “Will they give us fuinjutsu supplies too, or do we have to get creative?”

Minato’s lips quirked upwards. 

“They will give you fuinjutsu supplies,” he said. “A village only makes money off an exam if they can show off promising genin, and I convinced them it would be necessary for you to give a good show.”

“But I don’t get any?” Kushina-sensei clarified. 

Any Iwa-nin who’d done two seconds of research on Uzumaki Kushina would want to ban her from even touching a brush forever. Even if she hadn’t gotten famous off of murder like he had, she and Minato came as a set: half his techniques were from her, and if anyone was going to be making Hiraishin markers and spreading them around, it would be her. 

“I don’t know how they’ll enforce Tori having access but not you,” Minato admitted. “Supervision, maybe.”

Itachi cleared his throat. “You're sure this isn’t an ambush?” he asked. 

This seemed like a good point to Deidara. They were basically just agreeing to waltz into Iwa completely weaponless and submit to whatever asshole demands Iwa might make. And like, someone like Deidara could do it, but it would be super annoying.

Minato took a moment to answer, gathering his thoughts. 

“It might be,” he said, tone suddenly deadly serious. “But their doors will be open to plenty of foreign powers, and they’ve already advertised a team from Konoha. A move against us would be very, very stupid of them.” He let a humorless smile cross his lips. “Besides, I intentionally picked a team that could still function even with every disadvantage they might give you.”

Next to him, Tori shifted uneasily. Deidara didn’t think she was nervous for herself, because Tori had wandered into worse with no ninja skills whatsoever and came out on top. It was that there was no way Minato knew that, because Tori liked to downplay her talents at every turn. She had worked her way into the mission plan as a competent fuinjutsu user, but he probably wasn’t including her in his super special hand-picked team. 

(And also, if you evaluated Tori the way you would in a classroom– throw this knife here, use this type of kick, demonstrate this particular move– she was pretty mediocre, even for a twelve year old. Tori only seemed intimidating after she’d tricked into doing something deeply stupid and then was waving some insane seal in your face.)

Deidara wasn’t even sure Minato was including him, even though he ranked right up there with Kushina-sensei and Itachi in terms of “has an absurd bloodline limit, good luck taking THAT away.” It seemed more likely he and Tori got signed up to be semi-expendable benchwarmers, and any talents they ended up displaying were just a nice perk.  

The thought made him angry. Minato might seem way cooler than Oonoki, but they were all the same, weren’t they? Minato would definitely abandon him and Tori to save his precious Konoha-born shinobi. 

Tori must be putting thought into what she would do without weapons, because she remarked, “It’s such overkill to ban all paper, though. If I already wasn’t using sealing paper, I wouldn’t be like, ‘Oh, no regular paper either? Guess I’ll just give up.’”

Deidara attempted to reel in his temper. This was Tori probing the waters of what she could get away with. She was infuriatingly cautious about it, in Deidara’s opinion, but her paranoid little brain would be better attuned to when they might have to jump ship. He should let her take lead on this and not upset himself. 

Kushina-sensei flashed her teeth at Tori. “No, obviously if you’re good enough, you can make any flat surface work. I assume that’s why they banned…. hand mirrors.”

There was a long pause while Kushina-sensei and Tori stared at each other, presumably contemplating what chaos they could cause with a hand mirror. 

Minato’s swivel chair groaned as he leaned back, dropping his papers on his desk. 

“It’s a moot point,” he said. “Tori, we don’t use untested seals in the field, and you can’t count on any seal that works on paper to work anywhere else. There’s a reason we use sealing paper. No hand mirror seals, okay?”

Hand mirrors were only the tip of the iceberg of insane shit Tori might try, but she plastered a meek smile on her face and agreed anyway. 

Disgusting, Deidara thought. He trusted this version of Tori to save his ass if they suddenly had to abandon ship, but she was also the worst possible version of herself. Unartistic. 

Itachi changed the subject again. “The overall mission is getting convoluted. How will Kushina get to Morino with fuinjutsu supplies if we may be supervised so closely? What are we going to do about Deidara’s explosion release?”

Tori opened her mouth, perhaps to suggest her own plan, only to close it and glance at Kushina-sensei. Ugh. 

“We’ll just wing it,” Kushina-sensei said with full confidence. 

Deidara turned to confirm that yes, Itachi did look like his brain had just exploded.  Also seeing this, Tori said to him, “It’s okay. You can’t actually keep a fuinjutsu master from smuggling things wherever they want.”

Now Minato looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t quite sure where to start. 

“I have an idea on how to distract them from Deidara,” Kushina-sensei said, twisting her torso to face Minato. “But they’ll eventually, uh… notice some things.”

Deidara clenched his fists, his nails digging into the bottom lips of his hand-mouths. Minato drummed his fingers on the desk. 

“It’s tricky, but they don’t have a verifiable claim on him,” Minato replied. He eyed Deidara. “Do you have a preferred cover-up story?”

“...no,” Deidara admitted. 

He didn’t like that Iwa thought they owned him, but he’d never had strong feelings about his family origins. They were assholes that treated him like shit, and he’d left. That was it. 

They kicked around a few ideas, ranging from gaslighting everyone that Deidara’s explosions had nothing to do with Iwa’s only bloodline limit, to claiming he was an old experiment of Orochimaru. They didn’t come to any sort of real conclusion, and eventually Minato said he’d sleep on it and dismissed them. 

“Deidara, can I talk to you for a moment?” Minato asked. Deidara narrowed his eyes at him, and from his peripheral vision he saw Tori flash a hand sign which was almost definitely Behave.

He crossed his arm and remained sitting while everyone else filed out. Kushina-sensei twirled in her seat so she could duck down and give Minato a peck on the cheek first. Gross. 

When they were alone, Minato asked, “How do you feel about this mission?”

“It’s a mission, yeah,” Deidara replied slowly, trying to parse what he was actually being asked. Loyalty, maybe. His father was an Iwa-nin, even if he’d never met him. He added, “I don’t really like undercover missions, but it’s fine if I get to do some art. If I get a promotion and a nice paycheck out of it, all the better.” 

Deidara still wasn’t sure he wanted to stay in Konoha, but the prospect of a steady income after being a child wandering-nin no one wanted to hire was incredibly alluring. Income meant he could have a bed, maybe even rent an art studio if Konoha Jounin got paid well. These fantasies weren’t enough to make him even consider going back to a hellhole that was Iwa, but if all Konoha had to torture him was a pushy sensei who got him in good with the Hokage, he’d take it. 

“I know you intentionally fled Iwa,” Minato said, his voice… soft for some reason. Weird. “I understand going back might be uncomfortable.”

“I’ve never been to Iwa,” Deidara defended immediately. He’d made damn sure to leave Earth Country as soon as he could, and they hadn’t even been able to put him through any of their stupid ninja aptitude tests in this timeline. 

Minato put up both hands as a calming gesture. 

“I know, I know,” he replied. “But you have their bloodline limit. You grew up outside of a village, so this might not be obvious to you yet, but your art is going to link you Iwa permanently. I don’t want to send you into Iwa unprepared.”

Deidara had to spend a few moments grinding his teeth to hold back rude words. Of course he knew. Iwa had bred him to be their perfect little killing machine.  

“It’s not Iwa’s bloodline limit,” Deidara replied eventually. “It’s mine, yeah. I decide what it’s for and what I do with it. That’s the whole point of my art, yeah.”

Minato raised both eyebrows. “Alright,” he said. “Good. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He dismissed him, leaving him with a strange promise that his door was always open if Deidara wanted to “talk.” Whatever. 

As he hopped down the stairs of Hokage tower two at a time, Deidara found himself surprised Minato had agreed that his bloodline limit was his own, separate from a village’s control. Probably a manipulation to keep Deidara away from any temptations to join Iwa. There was no way Minato would say Itachi’s eyeballs were for himself only and not Konoha, or that Kushina should use her chakra chains for anything but Konoha’s wellbeing. Villages just didn’t work like that. 

Not that Deidara would complain about special treatment…

Tori was waiting for him outside, leaning against an outside wall. They started the walk back to the genin dorms. 

“What’d he want?” she asked. 

Deidara rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “He wanted to know how I felt, yeah. Stupid.”

Tori frowned. “And how do you feel?” she asked. 

“Like you and him are both annoying, yeah,” Deidara replied. “Also, what the hell is with you twiddling your thumbs and acting stupid whenever anyone asks about fuinjutsu–”

Tori rolled her eyes right back at him. This was an ongoing argument. Deidara understood her reasoning for downplaying her talents; he just thought it was stupid. Just because Orochimaru was a manipulative scumbag didn’t mean every ninja wanted to push and push until she had a screaming breakdown. Most villages did this very slowly and steadily in a very predictable, soul-crushing kind of way.  

Somehow, Tori looped his rant at her back around. “I mean, if you have feelings about me and Oto, you definitely have some feelings about you and Iwa,” she said. “Are you going to be able to keep it together, seeing it?”

Deidara scowled at her. She’d worded it ambiguously because they were in public, but there was a definite seeing it AGAIN implied in there. And obviously Deidara didn’t want to go to Iwa, but that was the mission she and Itachi had signed him up for. He was an adult, if not physically. He could handle being annoyed by Iwa-nin for a month. 

“Obviously,” he told Tori. Then he grabbed her arm and yanked her down a side street, changing the subject entirely. “There’s a new take-out place down here. We should get dinner, yeah.”

[foolinafable]

time

Keith Kogane x Fem!Reader Synopsis: The mission was simple. All Keith had to do was find the rebel's undercover operative and get them out of Haggar's ship before the coalition attacked it. He didn’t expect you to have no idea and fight back. But that was fine, or it was until he tried to stab you with a sleeping injection only for him to not be able to touch you with it. No this wasn't simple at all. Word Count: 1.5K Tags: Soulmate au

Soulmates are few and far between on earth. When you're younger you might go around pinching people to see if it hurts them but as you get older and realise how many people are on this planet you slowly give up and settle for someone else. Rarely would you ever see someone going around and hurting others in order to find their soulmate? Or even people hurting others accidentally and that person actually being their soulmate- it’s not really the culture. 

Keith never cared for it anyway, preferring to believe that he was destined to be forever alone because nobody could ever be the other half of him. His views are largely different to Lance's, who dreams about the day he would meet “the love of his life,” always daydreaming about someone he may never meet. 

Keith thought it was ridiculous but then again Lance’s parents were soulmates so maybe that instilled a false self of hope in the Cuban who rather than be worried he may never meet his soulmate especially now they were in space was now excited at the prospect that they could be in an entirely different galaxy- a thought that would make others like Keith feel hopeless. No matter how many times Keith tried to tell the boy not to get his hopes up this seemed to be one thing that Lance wouldn't let go of especially after Hunk found his soulmate Shay. 

When he was younger, Keith like many others loved the idea that there was somebody out there destined for you, a person who would always be there for you. The thought comforted him for a time before he decided that soulmates were a stupid idea and that even if he did have one it would be just his luck that he would never find them- not like he was one for romance anyway. 

Keith was glad he had a mission so he could get away from Lance and his whining after he had another dream about meeting his soulmate. It was exhausting hearing Lance talk about someone he was likely never going to meet and Keith was at the end of his tether, so being sent on a solo rescue mission was just what he needed to blow off some steam. He was glad that the rebels trusted him to do this. But, he was feeling even more pressure to prove himself to the coalition now Shiro was gone and he had taken up the mantle of the black paladin, leader of Voltron. 

It was a simple mission, the rebels had sent one of their operatives undercover on Haggar's ship where they had been gathering intel and now they needed to be extracted before the coalition launched its attack on the ship hoping that they could not only gather more intel from the ship on galra plans but also on Shiro's location. 

Hiding the Black lion behind an asteroid near the ship he jetpacked the rest of the way there. He could hear Pidge Talking to him via the comms on where to land and how to get into the ship undetected. Following her directions without a hitch, he quickly found himself inside the galran cruiser making his way towards where the operatives living quarters he put in the door code in that they had supplied the rebels with and was deflated to find nobody in the room. He quickly stepped inside, closing the door when he heard the sound of steps coming his way, deciding it would be better to just stay here until they came back. He tapped his feet on the ground in annoyance wanting to get this done quickly in hopes that they may have intel on Shiro or local prisoner ships at the least. He quickly hid on the wall of the door when he heard someone come up to it, sword drawn in case it wasn't the operative but before he could even see how it was a dagger was being shoved into his neck as he was backed up against the wall, his sword falling to the ground.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my room?” you spoke venom in your voice digging the dagger further into the boy's neck as it struggled to answer

“You're the operative?” Keith questioned before saying your name causing you to lose your hold on the dagger “I’m here to extract you, The rebels sent me” he tried to explain shocked that you had been able to catch him off guard

“That’s not true and I don’t work with the rebels, I work for Haggar” You haven't heard anything from the rebels so this must be a trap

“I don’t have time for this” Keith snapped as he pulled a syringe out of his pocket going to stab you in the hand when a force stopped it from even touching your hand.

You were having a similar predicament as when you tried to cut his hand off with your dagger it instead stopped as if an invisible force was blocking you. The two of you stared at each other in shock clearly knowing what this meant 

“I really don’t have time for this either” Keith grabbed your hand and dragged you out of your room once again following Pidge's directions getting out of the ship and into the Black lion with such ease it made him wonder why they didn’t infiltrate bases more often.

The journey back to the castle of lions was awkward, to say the least. After Keith had shown you that you in fact weren't getting kidnapped by a paladin of Voltron it finally hit you what had happened. You couldn't hurt him and he couldn't hurt you- which meant you were soulmates. It was a thought that would have made you excited if you didn't remember his reaction. He clearly didn’t want a soulmate claiming he didn't have the time. Waited all your life to meet your soulmate and they don’t even want you- just your luck you guess.       

Princess Allura had graciously decided to host you for a few days as all of the rebels' resources were going towards their invasion of Haggar's ship which meant they wouldn't be able to come and take you back to base for a full debrief straight away much to your annoyance. You would feel bad if your supposed soulmate didn’t want to give you the time of day. Honestly, you just felt sad. All your life is supposed to lead up to finding this one person and that is all you get? Your thoughts were quickly halted by the sounds of voices coming down the corridor 

“Why are you acting so angsty Keith, I thought you were over this whole emo boy stuff” you heard unfamiliar voice call out  

“Shut up Lance” Keith, you assumed, replied annoyed 

“Hey! It’s not my fault you’ve had a stick up your arse since you returned from your little rescue mission” Lance defended “What is she your soulmate or something” he queried in a joking manner somewhat laughing at his own words but his laughter quickly dies down at the lack of response from the other boy “Your joking?” Lance cried out clearly surprised “You're not joking” he quickly realised

“I’m not” is all the other boy said almost as if he still didn’t believe it but as quickly as their voices appeared in the corridor they also left before you could hear anything else.

Just great you thought as you dropped onto the bed deciding to take a nap in hopes it will give you some respite from this hell.  

It wasn’t until the second day of your three-day stay that he came up to you, he had clearly sought you out as nobody the whole day had entered the common room and he seemed relieved to see you in the room he quickly sat opposite you but sat in silence as you read another page from a book you had found in your room. “Can I help you?” you asked as it seemed he was never going to cut to the chase 

“Oh- um yes.” he started clearly not accepting you to say anything “I just thought we could talk about-” he began

“Us being soulmates? What is there to talk about, you clearly don't want this,” you responded wanting this awkward conversation to be done already

“It’s not- I mean I guess.” Keith stuttered from the bluntness of your words “I just don’t have the time” he reiterated his earlier words

“Time doesn't stop for anyone, but I get it. It’s a time of war and you're right at the centre of it” is all you said getting up from your seat and leaving the room leaving no room for argument. 

On the third day, you were told it was your final, a rebel ship would be coming to pick you up that day. You quickly gathered any belongings you had while thanking Allura for her hospitality it was only when she left you in the hanging dock that Keith came running in

“I was thinking about what you said” He began “It’s not that I don't want this, because I think I do but I also don’t want to put you in danger” he admitted “But I also don’t want you to go and this be it”       

“Time isn't going to stop for us” you reminded him

“I know,” he confessed. “That’s why I want to make time for us. If you would like that”

“I would.”

[sanjoongie]

Arch Nemesis

For @cultofdionysusnet Mocha Madness event

🧠Pairing: Choi San x Reader (f) x ???

🧠Au: hero/villain au

🧠Trope: e2l (enemies to lovers), f2l (friends to lovers), established relationship

🧠Rating: 18+, MDNI, smut, angst

🧠Warnings: mind reading, emotion manipulation (they're superheroes, they have powers), cheating

🧠Kinks: mutual masturbation, sexual fantasies made reality, pussy slapping, deep throating, choking, penetrative sex with no barrier, oral (m), spit kink, deep throating

🧠Word count: 3,730

🧠Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland for beta-ing, my unholy trinity partners in crime 🥰 and to @starlitmark for bouncing ideas with me and helping this plot flourish!

🧠Summary: you're a hero, one who has struggled to remain good, but what happens when you're most guilty fantasy with your arch nemesis of all people, comes to light?

“Gotta go, duty calls,” You said as you leaned over in your bed and kissed San’s cheek.

“No,” San murmured, pulling you in tightly against his body, “Stay. They can send someone else.”

You gently extracted yourself from San’s grasp. “Nice try but I can’t be your pillow all night. Get some sleep, Baby.” San mumbled into his pillow as you left your shared bed with a fond smile on your face.

You and San had been friends since college; you'd both been training then to be supe's. The two of you had been brought together because of your powers. San had the ability to read minds and telekinesis, which was the makings of a villain. And you could shoot a heart with your finger and temporarily gain control of whoever you shot. Basically, your target would be in love with you and do anything for you. Which was also seen as the potential to be a villain. The two of you had banded together as outcasts and had been friends ever since.

Considering the reason you had become friends, you had made a pact with San: to never speak on your missions, because you didn't want your professional life to ruin your friendship. You didn't know what San’s alter ego was and he didn't know yours. 

It had been only recently that your friendship had bloomed into a relationship. You were happy for it. San was the perfect soft and caring boyfriend. If only you didn't have a dirty secret that involved your arch nemesis.

Your comms told you your mission was at the old Treasure Hotel. Loudmouth was up to his old shenanigans. Apparently he had used his screaming powers and made everyone vacate the hotel so he could rob the safe. Except once you got there, running through the hotel, attempting to locate Loudmouth, you found no one. It wasn’t until you burst through the door to the rooftop that you discovered him--and his long-time ally, Killjoy.

“And I’m gone,” Loudmouth announced, jumping from the top of the roof, screeching when he presumably reached the ground to halt his ascent. 

You narrowed your eyes down at Killjoy. The villain was your arch nemesis, the antithesis of your life. If there was a problem in your life, he was usually the center of it all. Of course you had to pull yourself out of bed from your boyfriend to confront the one man you didn’t want to see this evening.

“What’s this about, Killjoy?” You demanded. You summoned your power, folding one of your hands into the shape of a gun and using the other to support your wrist.

The masked villain smirked, folding his arms over his well-developed chest. “You can drop the act. I know.”

You continued to hold your stance. “If you know that I’ve plans for the mayor’s inaugural, that’s pretty smart of you. I didn’t think you had it in you,” you quipped.

Killjoy smirked. “I don’t need to be smart to know that you think of me when you stuff your pretty fingers inside of you.”

You dropped your stance immediately. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Killjoy cocked his head. “You don’t think about me tucking my legs around yours to hold them in place as I ease in three fingers and you tell me you couldn't possibly take that much but your pussy takes them easily. You don’t think about me whispering how it’s so dirty that a hero could be taking my fingers so well. You don’t think about me slapping your pussy and pinching your clit and--”

“ENOUGH!” You shouted. Shame was covering you from head to toe right now. That was your exact fantasy, down to how many fingers you wanted him to shove into you. How could he suddenly read your mind when he’s barely skimmed the surface before?

Killjoy hopped onto one of the fans on the top of the building and leaned forward on his legs. His crooked smile pulled to the side, revealing a dimple. “Why just think about it when we could make it a reality?”

“Abso-fucking-luytely not!” You said in horror.

A hero? Getting finger banged by her arch nemesis? Never!

“How about this,” Killjoy suggested in a smug tone, “You show me what you do when you fantasize about me…” He took a moment to spit in his palm, “And I’ll show you what I do when I think of you.”

Your jaw just about hit the floor. “Excuse me?!”

Killjoy raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think it’s possible that I think about holding you down on my dick, shutting up that smart mouth of yours, always calling me a failure of a villain?” You clenched your legs together but Killjoy didn’t miss anything. “Come on, what’s a little mutual masturbation between old time enemies, huh?”

Your body worked on its own accord, your fingertips moving to the teensy-tiny skirt of your uniform. Killjoy’s eyes are glued to the pathway your fingers follow until you’ve raised the skirt and he can see your still clothed core but…

Killjoy’s tongue came out to wet his lips. “Is that a wet spot, Loveshot?”

You pushed your lips together and nodded. “Yeah,” You let out a shaky breath.

“Show me,” Killjoy insisted, leaning forward even further, eyes glued to your crotch.

You leaned back against the rough stone of the old building, fingers hovering over your outer lips. “I--you tease me a lot,” You admitted.

“Mhmm,” Killjoy prompted you. 

“Sometimes you--” You gasped when you palmed your breast and found the nipple tight already. “--you pull and pinch my nipples and call me a superslut.”

You watched with bated breath as Killjoy peeled back the lower half of his suit and you sighed dreamily as his girthy dick was revealed. You knew there was a reason you used three fingers for him in your fantasies. “Now my turn. You usually say something about how my suit makes my dick look tiny, so when you protest, I rub my dick against your face and lips, but once my dick is seated in your hot mouth, you crumble and take it all for me.” Killjoy’s hips twitched upwards as his spit-covered hand moved up and down his dick. 

"Sometimes I get so wet from pretending my fingers are yours that I--" You bit down on your lip to muffle a moan.

"Who's gonna hear you way up here  Loveshot?" Killjoy smirked once again, "Let me hear all your desperate noises for me."

Shame still burns in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn't do this. You had San but everything was still new with him. This dirty little fantasy you've had of Killjoy had been around before you two had evolved from friends to lovers. You needed this.

You unceremoniously slapped your cunt and your head lolled back with how delicious it felt. "You tell me that I can take anything you give me, just like you know you can throw me into any situation as a hero and I can save the day."

Killjoy let out a low moan and scrunched his nose upwards. "I imagine your muffled noises as I push your face into my pelvis, making you take all of my dick. You choke and you cry and you say that you love every moment of it."

You're so worked up at this point that you could actually cum. "I'm--" You choked on the words when you watched Killjoy shamelessly spurt all over his hand.

He opened his eyes, heavy lidded with satisfaction and gave you a slow smile. "Come for me, my nemesis."

“Killjoy!” You come undone for him, pussy convulsing around your fingers and you ride them, closing your eyes for just a moment and picturing Killjoy’s smirk above you.

"Don't do that," Killjoy groaned.

You had forgotten he was still in your head. You ripped your fingers from your cunt and wiped them against your thighs to clean them. You turned to leave but Killjoy couldn't help but get a final verbal shot in.

"Where are you going, Loveshot? You're still thinking about me. You'll think about me later, won't you?" 

You threw up a middle finger as a parting gift and shifted the color of your hair and your nose. By the time you made your way to the bottom of the skyscraper, you were completely indistinguishable from Loveshot. But you were still the same person. You had just gray-area cheated on San with your arch nemesis.

Your comms buzzed and you saw you received a text you simply could not ignore:

Sannie🥺: wanna meet up? I’ll order your regular at Blue Bird.

You: just finished up, see you there

Guilt wracked through your body. If you said no San would know something was up. But could you truly sip on a sugary sweet beverage, which your best-friend-turned-boyfriend had memorized as your order, as if nothing had happened?

You stumbled into the coffee shop that you and San frequented, only a few blocks away from your shared apartment. You weren’t used to fighting crime, then having a mind blowing orgasm afterwards. Your super power wasn’t stamina, that was for sure. Your eyes sought out San immediately, who waved you over to the table he was seated at. 

“Hey Babe,” San greeted you.

“H-hey,” You replied shakily. 

San had his normal gray hoodie but it was barely zipped up and you could see a sheen of sweat covering his upper chest that peeked past the zipper. He smiled softly, “I couldn't sleep, so I went to the gym. Sorry, I must smell like a locker room.”

You laughed under your breath. “You smell like you just walked out of a perfume ad.”

San scratched the back of his head. “Careful, I think my heart just beat a little harder from that.”

You smiled painfully. You attempted to sit at the café table and faltered, barely catching yourself against the edge. Unfortunately for you, your abused clit took most of the weight as you collapsed against it and you made an embarrassingly loud and desperate noise.

San’s eyes widened and then immediately avoided your eyes. What did he just realize?!

“San?” You worried your teeth on your bottom lip. You managed to properly sit down and sip your drink to do something, anything. 

“Where did you just come from?” He asked quietly.

“Uh… you know, superhero stuff,” You shrugged.

The two of you had a strict policy of not speaking about your cases, to not muddy up each other’s professions. It just worked better that way. But San chose today to push it. He pushed up his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shifted closer to you. “Where did you come from?” he repeated firmly.

“The subway. Hostage situation. Wrapped it up pretty quickly,” You lied. 

San sat back but eased an arm around the back of your chair. “Good.”

The tension eased out of your shoulders and you leaned into San’s embrace. “I’m tired. Let’s go home.”

The two of you walked home, San’s arm still around your shoulder, you still leaning against him. You were cold and were trying to absorb some of his warmth. Not even the drink from the coffee shop could warm up the sinking feeling in your chest. Even as you got home, got ready for bed, you couldn't shake your anxiety.

Guilt is gnawing at the end of your mind and you know that there is no going to sleep like this. You turned to tell San that you’re going to wind down in the living room when he approached you from behind. His lips are like sweet caresses along the slope of your shoulder. “Come back to bed with me,” he murmured, as if he could sense you were pulling away.

“Sannie,” You turned around in his embrace, “My mind--”

San’s eyes travel over your face, a hand cupping one side. “You’re vibrating with the need to leave. Let me put you to sleep.” Gently, San tilted your head with the same guiding hand, peppering kisses along your jawline. 

Your heart soared and then crashed into your guilt. You couldn't possibly--not after what you did with Killjoy… “San, I’m really tired,” You protested.

“You’re not,” San disagreed with a rumble deep in his chest. “Even if your body may be, your mind is restless. I can help.”

San swept the straps of your pjs off your shoulders and continued to kiss down your neck to your collarbones. You can’t help but moan at the feel of his lips on your skin. Was your boyfriend seducing you?

"Where are you going, Loveshot? You're still thinking about me. You'll think about me later, won't you?"

Your body became tense with the sudden intrusion. Your powers brewed on the tip of your tongue and the pads of your fingers. You’d never use your powers against San but the need to push him off, to not mingle his touches with that of Killjoy’s was important!

“I have a better idea,” You found yourself suggesting before you could stop your treacherous tongue. “Let’s watch each other masturbate.”

San’s eyes widened considerably at your suggestion. “What?!”

Now it’s your turn to seduce. You ditched your top completely, to sit back on your shared bed and lie back, propping yourself up with your elbows. “Want you to watch me while I touch myself, Sannie,” You purred, “Wanna watch you while you touch yourself.”

San stumbled, as if his feet were moving him unbiddenly, but he made it to the edge of the bed where you were. You move so that the two of you are opposite of each other, a full view of whatever the other one’s planning on doing. You massage your breasts, making them pucker in the cool early morning air. San licked his lips like he wished they were wrapped around them. His eyes move to meet yours, waiting for you to start.

“Before we got together, when we were just friends, I used to get off to the idea of you sneaking in my bed and eating me out,” You said shakily. “I would play with my nipples and put so much lube on my pussy, using one of those flower vibrators, wishing it was your tongue. I had convinced myself that you loved eating pussy and it was something I wanted you to want with me.”

San groaned and began to palm himself through his sleep pants. “We were idiots.”

You couldn't help but giggle. “We were.”

San watched with rapt attention as you pulled aside your underwear and dipped a finger into your wetness. You spread it along your clit, moving in slow, tantalizing circles, careful of how abused your clit had been just a few hours ago by your own self torture. “Sannie?” You prompted him.

San snapped out of his deep thought while watching your finger circle your clit and pulled himself out of his confines. “I used to want you to use your power on me.” His voice cracked and he had to clear it. “Make me do whatever you want me to do. I used to edge myself for hours alone on the thought that you’d never let me cum unless it was inside of you--pussy or mouth.” San’s blunt fingernails dug into his thighs but he didn’t touch himself.

You stop touching yourself and crawled towards San’s body. “Do you need some lubrication?” 

San whimpered as you hovered over him, hands on either side of his hips. You spit on his cock, letting it slowly dribble downwards. You leaned downwards, almost as if you were going to take him in your mouth but instead you simply blew air on him. San’s hips thrust into the air, whining again. “Please,” he asked but you weren’t sure he even knew what he was asking for.

“Go ahead and touch yourself,” You encouraged him.

“ ‘m sensitive,” San mumbled, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinked many times, a cute pout pulling at his lips.

You can’t help but grin at the admission. “Did you masturbate while I was out, Sannie?”

San’s body jerked backwards, a loud gasp in the back of his throat. “N-no.”

You dropped your body so that you could take San’s cock in your mouth with one quick dip of your mouth. San’s body strains at being encompassed suddenly by your warm, wet mouth. Tiny thrusts into your mouth tell you all San wants is to get off in your mouth and by the throb of your lower half, all you want is to give it to him. 

"I imagine your muffled noises as I push your face into my pelvis, making you take all of my dick.

How is it that you're sucking off your sweet boyfriend and you can't get Killjoy's degrading voice out of your head?

At that exact same moment, San's hands grab both sides of your head and he began to fuck your mouth. You have no time to think, only time to make sure your breaths time with the in-and-out motion of his cock down your throat. Your nose practically buries itself into San's bronze skin, mouth coming flush with the base of his cock. San had never--

Just as quickly as he held you down on him, he pulled you off of him. You stare up at him, saliva and precum dripping from your open, panting lips. “San?”

San adjusted immediately, a dopey sweet smile pulling at his lips, making his eyes become crescent moons. “I don't want to cum in your mouth.”

You're fast to climb onto his lap, arms draped over his broad shoulders. “My baby,” You couldn't help but coo, “You really do put me first, don't you?”

San smiled shyly, scratching the back of his head. “I love you, that's why.”

Your heart burst at the admission. “I love you too, sweet boy.”

The two of you moved your hips in sync, exchanging kisses and moans, as you made love in your shared bed. This was where you wanted to be: in San's arms, drinking in his noises of pleasure, being the center of his world. You didn't want to be with--

Your climax hit you like a slow burn and the first thing that tumbled from your mouth was the name you had been thinking of. “Killjoy!” you groaned quietly.

San’s body was ramrod straight even though you could feel his dick twitching inside of you, his cry cut off at what you said. You scrambled to remove yourself from his body but San wrapped his arms around you to keep you firmly in place.

“What did you just say?” San said in a voice that broke your heart into a million pieces.

“No-nothing,” You stuttered, throat full of emotions.

“Where did you go when they called you out,” San demanded again, bringing up his question from earlier.

“I told you, the subway--!” You squealed as your back hit the bed, San pinning you down with his heavy body against yours.

San reached for your hand and squeezed it tightly, intertwining your fingers with his . “You have two seconds to answer me correctly before I read your mind, love.”

“San!” You gasped and visibly reeled back. San never invaded the minds of the ones he loved, he swore he would never. 

San licked his lips, a frown furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m not asking casually.”

Your gut was telling you that suddenly your entire world depended on the answer to this question and you had no idea where it would land you. “I was on the rooftop of The Treasure Hotel.”

San cursed lowly. “Loveshot?”

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Had San just guessed your alter ego? What did that mean? 

San let go of your hand and shakingly raised it to his face. You thought he was going to rub it tiredly over his face, somehow privy to you cheating on him with your arch nemesis. “Sannie, please, it was nothing!” You cried out.

Instead, he covered his eyes and smirked. “I already know.”

Your blood chilled in your veins. 

The masked villain smirked, folding his arms over his well-developed chest. “You can drop the act. I know.”

“Killjoy?” You yelled in disbelief.

And, you swear to God, San's dick pulsed inside of you upon hearing his alter ego's name upon your lips in your shared bed.

“No,” You shook your head. There was no fucking way your best friend, your boyfriend, was an evil villain?

Flashbacks to the supe's college you both attended, the way you were both outcasts, vaguely bringing up your powers as the reason. Bonding over wanting to overcome your natural abilities and prove to everyone you were good. 

“Someday, the world won’t judge me,” San had proclaimed. Clearly that had not crossed over very well.

It all came crumbling down around you. 

San lowered his hand and there was a glint in his eye. “If I had known…”

In some fucked up way, relief flooded you. You hadn't cheated on San; you simply masturbated with his alter ego. That was okay… right?

“Are we…” How were you going to meld the two worlds together, how could you continue to date and fuck a villain, how-- “Are we okay?”

San’s lips surged towards yours in a kiss that was desperate and messy and yet somehow full of love and adoration. “Do you still love me?” San gasped into your mouth. 

You looked up at the man who was your everything. Even now, knowing he was your arch nemesis and had been for a long time, he was even more so your everything. He was your world when you weren’t working and he was your obsession when you were. Was this going to fuck up your job? Absolutely. Was it going to fuck up your relationship?

“I love you like the sun loves the moon,” You admitted. Surely the two bodies in the sky were enemies, constantly chasing after each other, constantly fighting for time in the sky. 

A subtle shift of San’s hips had you gasping. He was hard inside of you. His eyes were alight with love and mischief and lust. “I love you like a villain loves a hero.”

And that was the end of that conversation.

taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @mingsolo @k-pop-ology

special suffer with me braincell tag: @smallfrye

[smalllady]

Places in Mass Effect 2 - Tuchanka Scarred by bombardment craters, radioactive rubble, choking ash, salt flats, and alkaline seas, Tuchanka can barely support life. Thousands of years ago, life grew in fierce abundance under the F-class star Aralakh (a Raik clan word meaning "Eye of Wrath"). Tree-analogues grew in thick jungles, their roots growing out of shallow, silty seas. Life fed upon life in an evolutionary crucible. This world died in nuclear firestorms after the krogan split the atom. A "little ice age" of nuclear winter killed off much of the remaining plant life. In recent centuries, many krogan have returned to their homeworld. The reduced albedo has caused global temperatures to rise. In order to maintain liveable temperatures, a vast shroud was assembled at the L1 Lagrange point. It is maintained by the Council Demilitarization Enforcement Mission (CDEM), which is based on orbiting battlestations. CDEM ADVISORY: Visitors to Tuchanka land at their own risk. The CDEM will not attempt to extract citizens threatened by clan warfare. TRAVEL ADVISORY: The ecology of Tuchanka is deadly. Nearly every native species engages in some predatory behavior; even the remaining vegetation is carnivorous. Travel beyond guarded areas is strongly discouraged. Population: 2.1 billion Capital: Urdnot (since 2183) CDEM Garrison: 2,400 (in orbital battlestations) Orbital Distance: 5.3 AU Orbital Period: 16.7 Earth Years Radius: 8293 km Day Length: 21.4 Earth Hours Atmospheric Pressure: 1.1 Earth Atmospheres Surface Temperature: 72 Celsius (36 in shrouded areas) Surface Gravity: 1.14 G

[distortionbobble]

"do you ever shut up" no... and nobody asked for this but i'm thinking about situationship!anakin right now. minors dni. fic has no warnings rn . might expand this one. modern au.

see the thing is, if any of your friends had gotten into this, you would have done a whooole extraction mission to get them out of it. a situtaionship? with that fine-as-fuck man? pretty wavy brown hair and that stupid fucking smile... baby your eyes look like the ocean i'm not arguing with you...

you found him on hinge during one of your dry-spells. the first thing you noticed was how pretty this man is. his profile featured pictures of him hanging out of the window of his car, gravity pulling his hair down as he flashed the camera a prize winning smile. another picture inside a restaurant, just a hint of manicured nails in the corner of the photo.. taken by an ex-girlfriend, maybe? you hum, and scroll down to see the rest of his profile.

"anakin, 22... figuring out my dating goals," you murmur to yourself, munching on your popcorn. okay, figuring out dating goals, that means... means what? a situationship? fuck, do you even have that in you? you're ready to x him out but something makes you wanna look at that face just one more time. fuck, he's pretty.

before your better judgement can stop you you're typing out a quick response to his prompts. green flags i look for are... good at legos. okay, that's cute, right? maybe he doesn't know what his dating goals are because it's kind of intense to be like, i want a long term relationship. that is a lot of pressure. you respond by sending him the lego flowers bouquet that's sitting on your coffee table (yes, your ex gifted it to you. no, that doesn't matter to you. what he doesn't know won't kill him. besides, it was a good present).

does this count? you respond, tossing your phone to the side to focus on Love Island playing on the TV, not expecting a response from anakin for at least a couple days. which is why you're almost shocked when the screen lights up with a notification from hinge.

anakin: yeah, looks pretty good to me ahaha

anakin: sent an image

anakin: rate the set up?

you open it with curiosity and a little bubbly feeling in your chest-- a cute boy matched with you, you're pretty sure it's well within your rights to be a little excited. it's a rather impressive set up of a few different lego sets, all built meticulously. you spot a few that are difficult to get your hands on, and think for a second on how to respond to him.

you: do i spot the indiana jones temple escape set?

anakin: oh my god yes that's my favorite set lmao, took ages to get it

you: dude that's so lucky

you stare at the screen, biting your lip. fuck, this is such a dry-ass conversation, it'll probably die out anyways so you don't bother sending a follow-up

anakin: honestly pretty lucky in general w all my sets. i've got a coupe unopened ones if you wanted to hang out and do them w me sometime tho? might be fun.

oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. okay, be cool about this. wait, is this code for a hookup? okay, hang out and do them with him = y'all fuck after the legos? or before? you're confused. but like, legos sounds like a fun time.

you: sounds like a good time. does friday work? we could pick up some takeout from this place on jefferson ave, if you're down

anakin: down for friday. but i was thinkin i could make you somethin? i can make a mean miso soup, if you're down.

you: seeya friday, then :)

--

you brought chocolates. to his apartment. and after you knocked on the door, you're thinking maybe this wasnt such a good idea, after all. the chocolates, and the being here in the first place.

but anakin opens the door, and his apartment smells so good, and he's got a set of space post card lego sets already open with the accompanying instruction booklet next to him.

"hi," you smile up at him, a wave of shyness washing over you as you look at him. how are people allowed to be this pretty? it's like the camera didnt do him justice, because he's at least 20x more attractive in person.

"hey. it's nice to meet you," anakin responds with a grin of his own. "d'you wanna come on in? i've just put some of the veggies into the stock. got some tofu and stuff, bok choy, it'll be good," he says, shutting the door behind you as you enter his apartment.

"nice place," you say, looking around quickly before you take off your coat and shoes.

things flow easily between you too. he tells you about his day, his job, asks you about yours, asks you about your favorite movies. you ask him about his lego sets, his decorations, his favorite music, how he learned to get so good at cooking (the soup is fucking delicious). he puts on a grateful dead song on his speakers as you work on the sets, laughing when he asks you to separate two legos that are stuck together with the nails that you have ("don't you have one of those lego-separating tools?" "those. are for pussies.").

the sets come together what feels like too quickly. you almost wanna tear it apart so that you can have an excuse to just stay for a little longer, but it doesn't seem like anakin is eager to kick you out either.

but it's late, and you should go. as you head out for the door, you feel your eyes drifting to his lips-- his pretty bottom lip, plush and rosy and you wanna sink your teeth into it-- and you know he notices too. he doesn't say anything. is a first date too early to kiss?

"well," you say, lingering at the door. "i, uh, had a good time tonight."

"me too," anakin says, equally as awkward. he leans in just a little, so that his face isn't so far, so that you don't need to look up so much.

well, that's it. no invite to a next hangout. you try not to let your face fall as you wish him goodnight and thank him for the miso soup.

you've only made it out of his apartment complex when your phone lights up with a message.

anakin: d'you wanna do smthn next week?

you smile.

[ily-fictional-women]

I can kinda imagine a part 2 that shows reader and nat starting a relationship and its all very slow and tentative and hesitant because nat’s never done this before and shes soft and shy and awkward or maybe reader and nat maybe in a relationship now and its just super cute and domestic and shows how soft nat is and how wrong the rumours about her are maybe things like she steals hoodies and likes to be the little spoon and stuff like that

I can kinda see this as like its own au with lots of little one shots if you can’t tell 😂

Secrets | Rumors part 2

Summary: Secrets do more damage than good.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader + platonic!Maria Hill x fem!reader

Warnings: None that I know of but if I should add anything let me know

Word count: 1966

a/n: I’ve been meaning to write this part two. If you haven’t read the first part though it still reads pretty well by itself. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

Natasha tosses her bag to the side quickly closing the door behind her, “That was a disaster.” Y/n simply shrugs grinning, “At least you didn’t get stabbed with lab equipment this time.” Letting out a small laugh Natasha rolls her eyes at Y/n as she begins changing out of her mission clothes.

Y/n glances at her phone, “They’ll be here in about ten hours so we have a lot of time.” Natasha flops onto the hotel bed reaching out a hand to Y/n, “Come to bed then, it’s late.”

“Oh no, it’s okay Nat. I’m not that tired.” Natasha looks at Y/n seriously, “Y/n, we have been up and awake for 48 hours. Come to bed, please.” Y/n rubs her eyes, “Alright fine.” After changing her clothes Y/n climbs into bed holding Natasha by her waist turning the nightstand lamp off.

//

Feeling the warm light coming through the window Natasha starts to feel herself wake up. Sleepily moving her hand across the bed her hand lands on Y/n’s thigh. Remembering Y/n is usually the one to sleep in Natasha sits up squinting her eyes trying to wake up.

“When did you wake up? And what time is it?” Y/n flips a page in the book she’s reading, “It’s six o’clock so you still have about an hour before extraction gets here.” Natasha sleepily glares at Y/n.

“You’re avoiding the more important question Y/n. When did you wake up?” Not taking her eyes off the book Y/n simply replies, “I didn’t wake. I told you I couldn’t sleep. So I waited for you to fall asleep so I could read.”

Natasha bites the inside of her cheek hesitantly resting a hand on top of Y/n’s motioning for her to close the book. Y/n finally focuses her gaze on Natasha, Natasha kisses Y/n’s forehead quickly, “Just tell me when you can’t sleep next time okay?”

“Okay, I will,” Y/n smiles assuringly.

//

After finishing the debrief with Fury, Natasha and Y/n walk out of the office. “You want to get lunch?” Y/n glances at the clock on her phone, “I can’t I’m planning on doing the mission report right now. And after that, I planned on meeting Maria in the training center to spar. I’ll meet you up for dinner though, yeah?”

“Yeah that works,” Natasha looks down starting to play with Y/n’s hands nervously. “You’ve been awake for a long time though so just please get some sleep in between.”

Pulling away her hands Y/n quickly snaps at Natasha, “I’m not tired! Alright? Just please leave it be.” Not saying another word Y/n quickly walks off to her bunk. She’s hiding something and it’s obvious to Natasha.

Natasha peeks her head through Fury’s office door, “Do you know where I can find Agent Hill? I need to ask her about something.” Fury looks up from his file, squinting his eye at Natasha. “I’m pretty sure she said she’ll be at the firing range right now. Said she wanted to practice her aim for an upcoming stealth mission.”

“Thank you, sir,” Natasha quickly nods her head closing the office door behind her. The firing range was only about two stories below Fury’s office so it wouldn’t be a far trip. But the fact that Y/n was keeping something from her bothered her.

Did Y/n not trust her? What was keeping her up at night? Or more importantly what was keeping her up at night that Y/n couldn’t tell her about? The thoughts intruding on Natasha had swallowed her enough that she hadn’t realized she had gotten to the firing range so quickly.

As Maria fires off the last bullet she unloads the magazine to the gun almost startled by Natasha leaning against the dividers of the firing lanes. “Hey! Romanoff,” Maria gives the redhead a quick grin, “what’s up?”

Natasha crosses her arms, “It’s about Y/n. I’m worried about her.” Maria finishes loading the gun before putting it to the side raising an eyebrow at Natasha. “What do you mean worried? What’s wrong with her?”

“She refuses to sleep. And she just snapped at me a minute ago because I told her she should get some sleep.” Maria scrunches her brows looking down for a moment trying to rack her brain on why Y/n could be acting like this.

Her eyes quickly shoot back up to Natasha, “Wait. What date is it today?”

“May 21st, why?” Maria runs a hand through her hair letting out a loud sigh, “Shit.” Natasha's posture stiffens at Maria’s reaction, “Shit what? What’s wrong with her.”

“Um,” Maria hesitates, “that’s something I can’t be responsible for telling you. But the most I can say is that she doesn’t sleep well around this time and she hasn’t for years. And when she does she doesn’t like it.”

Natasha’s face gets serious, “Could you talk to her for me then?” Maria holds back a small smile, “I can convince her to talk to you. But you’ve been her girlfriend for about three months now. You’ll need to talk to her about this.”

Rubbing the back of her neck nervously Natasha makes her way toward the exit of the firing range, “That’ll work. Thanks, Hill.” Maria picks up the gun again aiming at the target, “Anytime Romanoff!”

//

Y/n hears a knock on the door to her bunk but she doesn’t get up to answer it. She was falling in and out of sleep every minute trying to finish her mission report. The creaky opening of the door wakes her up though.

Turning in her seat Y/n tries to blink away her sleepiness inevitably giving Maria a sleepy gaze anyway. Maria sits on the bed near Y/n, “You never met me for sparing Y/n.” Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as she glances at the tiny clock on the corner of her computer.

It was about two hours past the time she was supposed to meet Maria. “I don’t remember giving you a key to my room Maria.”

“It was last year, you were assigned on a mission that was supposed to be a week and ended up being four months. You gave me a key to your room just in case something like that happened again so I could give you a supply drop of more of your stuff.”

Silence fills the room for the moment, Y/n had honestly expected Maria to get on her for changing the subject. “She’s worried about you y’know.” Maria had filled the silence and Y/n had somehow wished for it back.

“The nightmares. Are they coming back?” Y/n can feel a lump grow in her throat at Maria’s question. Pressing her hands against her face Y/n lets out a frustrated groan, “Yeah, they just started a few days ago. She wasn’t there for the first one so I was able to get away with not talking about it.”

“Haven’t you been awake for a few days Y/n?” Y/n’s eyes wander her room not wanting to make eye contact with Maria while talking about something like this. Her jaw tightens, “Yeah. Figured I could try and avoid it this year.”

“Y/n…” Maria’s voice is soft. “Talk to her tonight. You know you can’t just avoid this. You need to sleep at some point.”

“And if I don’t?” Y/n’s voice was quiet but bitter. Maria stands up ruffling Y/n’s hair a bit, “Then I’ll tell Fury to put you on probation until you’re deemed fit to come back to work. So talk to her tonight and get some sleep. She cares about you.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to her tonight. You still up to spar though?” Maria laughs out loud at the question, “No, you can’t fight right now. Plus if we did, I’d kick your ass. Then your girlfriend would kick my ass. And that’s a fight I wouldn’t win.”

As Maria makes her way out of the room Y/n manages to smile a little, “I would still kick your ass.” Maria laughs out loud again, “Whatever you say Y/n/l.”

//

Managing to power through dinner pretending to feel awake Y/n follows Natasha back to her room. With the tiredness weighing Y/n down even more though the need to talk to Natasha slipped her mind.

Closing the door to the bunk Natasha sweetly kisses Y/n on the lips, “You ready for bed?” Rubbing her eye little Y/n nods, “Yeah, I could go to bed right now.” Slipping under the covers, feeling Natasha’s warm body next to hers, Y/n falls asleep for the first time in days.

But that's the catch. She fell asleep, so the nightmares followed. The old memories came in flashes. First the ringing in the ears. Then that closing-in feeling. Then the screaming. Then the blood. Then the- there’s whispers. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up Y/n.

Immediately Y/n gasps awake sitting up feeling tears start to stream down her face gasping for air trying to breathe. “Hey- hey. Detka, breathe. Slow breaths.” Y/n felt one of Natashas' hands come up and rest on her chest to feel her breath.

The touch itself started to calm Y/n’s nerves, and her breathing started to slow. But the tears didn’t stop, they just kept going no matter how much Y/n kept cocking her head back. Noticing Y/n struggling Natasha quickly pulled her into a long tight hug.

As the tears stopped Natasha pulled her away to look at her brushing away a few stray tears. “Y/n, what was that?” Y/n runs a hand through her hair sniffling, “It was just a nightmare, go back to bed.”

Natasha puts a hand on Y/n’s cheek having Y/n look at her, “It wasn’t just a nightmare. You were crying and thrashing around in your sleep. Just tell me what’s wrong.” Y/n moves Natasha’s hand holding onto it.

“Back when I was a Marine with Maria, uh, I had to go on a mission with some newer people I didn’t know. We were on our way back to base, but we had to camp out for the night. We were ambushed when we were sleeping though. I was the only one to make it out with injuries that didn’t kill me. Today’s the sixth anniversary of this happening.”

Natasha’s grip on Y/n’s hand tightens, “So is that why you don’t like working in teams?” Y/n lets out a dry laugh, “Yeah, you could say that.” Natasha inches closer to Y/n, “So do you get these nightmares a lot?”

Y/n shrugs drying off the last few stray tears with her free hand, “I used to for about the first two years. But now they just usually come back around the day it happened. In fact, the first year when Maria went on leave with me and slept on the floor next to my bed in my apartment at the time to make sure I was okay.”

“Then I’ll stay awake.” Y/n looks up at Natasha tears starting to well up in her eyes again, “What?” Natasha squeezes her hand, “I’ll stay awake. I’ll make sure you get sleep. You can lay your head on my chest. And if the nightmares come back I’ll be right here to wake you up.”

“Okay,” Y/n whispers. As Natasha hears the confirmation she pulls Y/n close, her head on her chest drawing shapes onto her shoulder whispering ‘it’ll be okay’ quietly over and over until Y/n fell asleep. And then the nightmares didn’t come back.

[valenciags]

Remnants of Hope AU

'The 'Remnants of Hope' are considered the last remaining of the sane Hopes Peak Academy students that are not in our care. It is this foundations mission to find and extract this miniature squadron from danger. We assume one of the lower level windows panelling was more rusted than initially thought before it had been fixed for the 'Killing Game'. These teenagers could be one of our last chances. Do not let their blood ridden figures lead to a violent encounter. They are simply surviving the best they can in that war zone.

Owari Akane:

Ultimate: Gymnast

Height: 5"9

Weight: 59kg/123lbs

Age: 17

Based on current cameras we have managed to reprogram for our purpose, Akane is plenty violent and makes up for a lack of proper critical thinking skills with her inane durability. She has no visible loss of body parts unlike her current compatriots, yet is littered with scars. Mainly more akin to a bear claw. Her strength is not to be questioned, in her files, the only people who have beaten her on hand to hand are Oogami Sakura and Nidai Nekomaru.

Sonia Nevermind

Ultimate: Princess

Height: 5"8

Weight: 50kg/110lbs

Age: 16

Additional Information - Home Country - Novoselic

Based on our surveillance, Sonia seems to be the least physically violent. She will adorn a weapon every once in a while and bear no fear in stepping in for her compatriots. This loyalty has resulted in the loss of her right arm from just below her elbow. She has sustained a temporary knee injury, slightly altering her ability to break into full sprint, this does not seem to bring her down. Her high spirits had made her a defacto leader and planner.

Souda Kazuichi

Ultimate: Mechanic

Height: 5"6

Weight: 64kg/141lbs

Age: 17

By far, this one is the least violent. From our surveillance, verbally, he's a menace. Otherwise he's secluded. His few attempts at heroism have had him majorly injured, losing his left leg from mid thigh down and almost complete loss of feeling in his right ankle. Don't underestimate the smarts. While brash verbally, he can build up a gun along with ammo and use it as quick as need be. He does not move now unless it's unquestionably needed.

Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko

Ultimate: Yakuza

Height: 5"1

Weight: 43kg/94lbs

Age: 16

Don't be fooled by his height or baby face. If his name rings a bell that's because it should. While one of the two destined to be a leader one day, he leaves it to the princess in exchange for more of a ranged amount of violence. Keeping range with mainly guns and ammo made by the mechanic has resulted in him being hurt the least, but he has lost an eye due to a rogue 'Remnant of Despair'. Which one is the culprit is unknown as of now.

We have trust you can extract these four safely and put them in the secure hands of the 'Killing Game' survivors. Or more, our hands.

Good luck.

- Kirigiri Kyoko'

[gabessquishytum]

I've read a great Dreamling Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU. But I had a thought:

Both Hob and Dream are spies, yes; and they still don't know that about the other yet, yes; and things have settled and they're both missing that old spark. But in this, one of them doesn’t make it home from a mission.

It's their agency's policies not to tell cover families anything, not even fake a note ~ in the movie everyone on the job discounted each to the other,,,,they wouldn't even remember really that Hob or Dream might have someone at home waiting for them.

A day, a week, goes by, no contact - so the left behind one starts doing research and looking for his missing husband, especially as he's getting the run around from his husband's office.

He finds out his husband is a spy/assassin who got captured on his last mission,,,,,and that no one, including his agency is working all that hard to rescue him.

Well, that's not going to stand! Even though mad about the secrets, he's going to rescue his man,,,,if only to yell at him a lot.

I just really love the concept of Dream finding out that his sweet, darling, slightly boring golden retriever husband Hob is actually a spy. Dream is mad about the secretive stuff, sure (although he's been keeping his own secrets so he's probably being hypocritical), but he's mostly mad because their married life could have been so much more interesting if he'd known that Hob was also a highly intelligent, cutthroat operative. Obviously he has to rescue his husband so they can start doing all the weird sex stuff that Dream was too nervous to introduce to his normie, ordinary (slightly boring) hubby.

He ends up extracting Hob from where he was being held by some kind of international drugs operation. The look on Hob’s face when Dream comes into his cell is hilarious. Hob always treated Dream like he was delicate and Dream always played up to that to hide his secret - so its definitely a shock when Hob watches his husband kick someone in the face with enough force to break their jaw.

On the way home of course they have a huge fight about all the secrets and lies, but it's really just a way to cover up the relief of being back together again, and the pure horniness coming from both sides. And Hob finally gets dragged back into their nice little suburban home to prove to his husband that he isn't boring, not even a little bit. He can report to his agency later - Dream is much more important.