Tumgik
#that’s what happens when you and over half the surrounding population live in the middle of nowhere
Through the shenanigans of GZ/IR portals Danny ends up in a completely different dimension (DC’s my preference) that has heroes. There’s no ghosts to fight and he doesn’t want to step on any toes with this dimensions hero population, meaning Danny Phantom gets a vacation.
( I like to think Danny fought the ghosts in Amity because he opened the portal and felt responsible for it and originally there wasn’t anyone else that really could fight them. If he still has to satisfy an obsession while there he now has time and an entire new star system to learn about. )
Danny somehow ends up at a job interview as a food delivery boy accidentally, it’s definitely not 100% above the table because he doesn’t legally exist there but still gets the job.
Things are going well, he’s doing a good job and making his delivery’s on time via the use of ghost powers on occasion. Eventually he gets a delivery for a completely different city, over two hours away, they’re willing to pay a ton to get it delivered to them. Danny decides to see if he can finish the delivery while the foods still hot.
He gets there in under 10 minutes.
The person that made the order is definitely a hero, and when they got their food two hours early freak out. Asking Danny how he did it. Danny looks them dead in the eyes and says “We have a delivered hot guaranty.” They try to question Danny, but Danny already got paid, he gave them their food, he can leave, so he just walks away and tells them to enjoy their meal.
The hero tells other ones and they decided to order from there as well and get told that when ever Danny’s on shift the delivery range doesn’t have a limit. Obviously they test it. He delivers to a random rooftop in Bloodhaven at 2am. The top of the Dailyplanet. Hong Kong, via a Blackbat/Orphan order. The Titan’s Tower some how.
Eventually someone orderers to one of the places that’s almost impossible to get to, but he does it, he delivers to the watchtower, in space. Just shows up in the middle of the room in front of the person that ordered, and goes “I don’t miss deliveries.” And walks away into space.
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mqverick · 4 months
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Walking On Air || chapter 8
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Normally, you always had been fond of spending Friday nights in Miramar at the O Club, dancing and drinking carelessly with your friends and boyfriend. That specific night, you wished someone would be drunk enough to stab you with a beer bottle and save you from the dreadful consequences of coming face to face with Pete.
You’d almost confessed your feelings to him, just a couple of hours ago — not even a full day had passed. For a moment, you considered acting by heart and not by mind, giving in to the emotion. You were helplessly hanging on to the thin threads of your remaining patience and loyalty to your very much already existing relationship.
Things were turbulent, but that wasn’t news.
The bar was crowded, just like always, some upbeat music faintly playing in the background as laughs and conversations overshadowed it, pilots reuniting with their girlfriends and wives for a fun night, Goose getting sturdy on the dance floor, lights bright enough to blind half of the world population.
And there he was. Surrounded by a swarm of young women swooning over him, smiling stupidly at the lame jokes he’d made up just for you — had you been his. The setting bothered you, an irritating feeling bubbling up in your stomach as you slouched down on the bar counter, giving your stool a little swirl. You half-heartedly took a sip from your beer, waiting for Tom to finish his rather amusing conversation with Slider and pay some attention to you that could be used to get Maverick off your mind.
The room was filled with people, but all you could see was him. For a short-lived second, your eyes met across the room, a silent talk passing between you, but as you began to gather the courage and make your way over to his table, a blonde woman stepped in, sweeping him onto the dance floor. Your heart sank, but you couldn't look away from the pair, wishing it could be you.
“Ice, wanna dance?” you spoke suddenly, interrupting what Slider was talking about. Tom gave you a sweet smile and excused himself, taking your hand and leading you in the middle of the floor. The music had switched to a soft, slow rhythm, which allowed you to place your chin on Tom’s shoulder while hugging him and moving. Your eyes were undoubtedly fixed on Maverick and that woman, however, the feel of a thousand knives tearing your heartstrings down, as you came across his diamond-bright smile.
His gaze accidentally traveled to you, face dropping the same way it happened with you earlier. You refused to show how weak you were, putting on a façade, even though the glimmer of your pupils spoke in hushed whisper. It always seemed to be that way with him; a compliment here, a tease there, a shared laugh, a shared silence. It was your very own private dance.
“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” you heard Tom whisper in your ear. You pulled away from the embrace and lovingly looked into his eyes as if you hadn’t been fantasising about the guy whose guts he passionately hated just a hot second ago.
“How about we do some shots, Ice? I want to have fun tonight,” you lied. The shots were in need to forgive and forget. He was hesitant to the suggestion, which you found off-putting and opted for the second best option to get a hangover from. Nick Bradshaw.
You spotted him lazily twirling his index finger around the head of the beer bottle in his hand, looking quite tipsy already. You approached him warmly with a hug and sat down next to him and requested a shot of afterburners, all while trying to erase Maverick from your brain — which was frankly impossible, seeing as he was mostly the reason why you yearned to get more alcohol in your system.
“Celebrating any special occasion, Roger?” Goose questioned after doing a shot, wincing as the drink burned down his throat.
“Your friend,” you replied shortly, entering the sharp liquid in your mouth.
“What’d he do this time?”
You sighed, going in for the second shot. “He’s being a brat, but then again, when isn’t he?”
“Gonna need you to be more specific than just the, Rog, you said it yourself; he’s got no limits to being a tad irresponsible.”
“I think he’s about to screw everyone with flesh and bones at this bar. And for fuck’s sake, how is every woman here attracted to him and him only? There are other men.”
“Ah,” Goose exclaimed knowingly with a smirk. “It’s all clear now. It’s bothering you watching Mav’s charm unleash on the female population.”
“Right,” you scoffed in frustration, embarrassed by how transparent your suppressed jealousy was. Your stomach was in knots, palms sweaty and warm as the booze poured into your brain.
“You know, Maverick really does like you. He’s just got a bad way of showing it,” Goose insisted, trying to ease you back from the drinks, but the rapid movement of your hand grabbing the glasses prevented him from being successful, so instead, he opted to let you keep going. “I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again now; words are his weak spot. He excels in action though, I’ve watched the guy make women swoon just by looking towards their direction. He’s a natural.”
“Your point being?” you rushed him, irritated.
“My point being that even though Maverick is head over heels for you, he still remains a single man, whereas you’ve got Kazansky.”
You glared harshly at Goose, even thought everything he’d just said made perfect sense. Who were you to be mad at a single man for flirting after you’d repeatedly shot him down? Were you expecting him to wait for you forever? The silence from your side betrayed your feelings to Goose, who wasn’t surprised at the slightest. You drunkenly slid off your seat, tripping on the toe box of your high heels and almost falling flat on your face, which you apparently found amusing as you giggled, looking around in the crowd. Your eyes caught him sipping out of a beer bottle in a corner — at last, without a stupid chick invading a bit too much of his personal space for your liking — and you lazily dilly-dallied your feet to his spot, feeling newfound boldness in your body as the previous, uncontrollable consumption of alcohol was put into test.
“Heeey,” you chirped, dragging out the ‘e’, Maverick looked taken aback to see you, but not missing a second to give you one of his very Maverick toothy grins. His fragrance danced around your nostrils, the scent of cheap beer mixing in as your senses tried to process how on earth it was possible for a man to smell so good.
“Are you drunk?” was the first thing that popped out his mouth, making you laugh humourlessly.
“What, no lines today? Wasted them all in those girls that seemed to take quite an interest in you earlier?” Oh, god, it was already getting messed up. You needed to respectfully back out of the conversation or simply run the fuck away.
“What?”
You chuckled, biting your bottom lip as you took him in with your eyes, admiring the white uniform on his frame, ocean eyes glowing under the club lights. His hair was slightly ruffled — you prayed not from a shag — and all you wanted to do was drag him in the restroom, jump on the counter and wrap your legs around his waist, to get to see what the fuss was all about.
“Are you avoiding me today, Pete?”
You didn’t mean for the question to come out so sensual.
“You have been drinking, then.”
Truth was, he had in fact been avoiding you, though. It killed him watching you distance yourself from him every time you formed a deeper connection and it was certain that with the help of booze and the whole bar vibe, something similar would occur again — and the just couldn’t bring himself to have you slip right through his fingers for once more. So he tried to stay away, just for that night, save some pain.
Your heart started to hammer against your ribcage as you took a step closer to him, noticing his Adam’s Apple bob. It dazzled you how insanely attractive his body’s responses were.
You lifted your stare up on his eyes once more, getting lost in them as you bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the urge to gently place your hand against his cheek, curious as to how soft it’d feel. He must had noticed that you’d been eyeing him up instead of talking to him, brow slightly cocking as he shifted just a tad with a suggestive smirk on his face.
“What?” he asked again, looking down at himself.
“Noth’n,” you mumbled, blushing and hoping the lighting wouldn’t give it away. “Having fun?”
“Now that you’re here, yeah.”
You chuckled ironically, shaking your head in disbelief at how incredibly, stupidly cheesy he was, as if he hadn’t been shooting the same lines with someone else earlier (you could bet it was the blonde with the blue eyes — you knew it).
“Goose says you like me.” You watched him tense at your choice of statement — only momentarily though — returning to his beloved cocky persona in a matter of seconds as he nodded with a grin. His face dropped when you mouthed that you disagreed with his RIO’s point of view. “I just don’t really believe him, you know? I don’t think you go around flirting with other women when your mind is supposedly set on one person.”
Maverick sighed, hands coming up on his sides.
“That’s not fair, Roger.”
“Oh, it’s not? My bad,” you giggled, running a hand through your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows in consideration. “You want to know what’s not fair, Pete? Not fair is being unable to bare the night without alcohol because someone decided they want to get laid by a random bimbo. Not fair is having to constantly doubt whether you actually fucking like me or just want to get into my pants. Is that it, Pete? Do you want a blowjob? Go for a quickie in the broom closet, perhaps? Will that get some steam out of your system?” You didn’t really understand when the wasted in you transformed into livid hammered, but it felt as if someone had cut your breaks, kept you yapping on and on. “It’s not fucking fair of you to just swoop in my perfectly functional relationship and blow it to shit.”
It wasn’t all Maverick’s fault, though. After all, it did take two people to fall in love. You could’ve just shut him off, pay no attention to him, had he not caught your eye even since day one, with all the characteristics about him that made him Maverick and not Pete Mitchell. You were falling so hard and quickly in love with him that it consumed you, had you in a whirlwind.
When you gathered the courage to quit daydreaming and focus on his reaction, you realized he looked a mix of hurt and mad.
“You know, you can’t just decide how I get to feel about you.”
“Yeah? Then how do you feel about me, since it’s so much more than sex? Prove me the fuck wrong, Pete Mitchell, show me!” you urged, pretty sure loudly enough to earn a few stares from the people close to the two of you.
“I can’t fucking do that, you have a boyfriend!”
“When have you ever legged it because of that?”
“Since you permanently became the only fucking thing I can ever think about!”
You’d lost the plot; mind foggy, incapable of making the right choices, whether that referenced to words or actions. Due to the dizziness, you took a second to process the fact that Maverick had just come a step closer to silently yelling to you he was as much bonkers about you as you were for him. Very irrationally and without considering it too much, you glared at him, eyes burning through his scalp, muscles tightened, setting your jaw as you raised your hands, causing the pilot before you to flinch in dread of getting slapped, but instead firmly cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, feeling his hot breath in puffs against your very welcoming lips. You were almost there; about to finally kiss him, but pulled back with force rather abruptly.
His eyes were closed from being so caught up in the idea of getting to taste a cocktail of the alcoholic beverages you’d been gobbling all night on your lips — he barely even noticed you’d shoved him away from you and were stomping away once again, fists clenched to your sides without giving him a word. He huffed in disbelief, unaware of how you always managed to do a runner.
You, on the other hand, suddenly made a turn of mind and began batting your eyelashes to a very clueless as to what had happened Tom Kazansky, determined to not let Maverick have it, not again, you were stronger than that. Hilarious, your inner conscience chuckled, as if you weren’t about to fuck it all and let Pete take you senseless on a sodding public bathroom’s counter.
“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered, clenching your eyelids shut. “Fucking shut the fuck up.”
“What’s that?” Tom asked, unable to hear what you’d muttered through the blasting music.
“We should head back home,” you lied with a raised voice, grimacing suggestively. You wished the rest of the night could’ve been like when u and him first started dating; passionate and full of mutual love. Except all you could picture as you seated yourself on top of him, throwing your hair off your shoulders and turning the light switch off to enrich your imagination, as you closed your eyes and let your mind work its magic, was Maverick.
Maverick, Maverick, Maverick.
Maverick and how you’d basically confessed to him. How you’d been just an inch away from devouring his heavenly-looking mouth.
Maverick and how he’d permanently became the only fucking thing you could ever think about, too.
chapter 9
tags:
@holishol
@iheqrtaustin
@cinnamoncaramelapples
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beetlesau · 2 years
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!zombie Bakugou x reader, Warm Bodies
Chapter 1, "Curiosity Killed the Cat"
You weren't entirely sure how it had started, the end of the world, yet here you were, dead in the middle of it. Well, "dead" would be a poor choice of wording, considering all the people that now surrounded you that were, in fact, dead. Yep, of all the ways for quirks to spiral out of control, this happened to be the way the earth would kick the bucket. All you knew was that, somewhere down the line, someone's quirk became too powerful. Too uncontrollable. Within weeks Japan and the rest of the world were burying half the population. The only problem was they didn't stay dead. Nor did they remain buried. So here you were, sat atop an overturned semi-truck on the interstate just outside Musutafu, Japan. You came to this particular spot since the weather was so pleasant. The company, however, was a bit unfavorable. "Yeah, yeah. I hear you, alright? Moaning and groaning, I swear is that all you guys ever have to say?" You sit in a lawn chair with a bag of moldy bread, tossing wads of it off the side of the overturned truck as if you were feeding ducks at a pond. It sails past a couple of them, occasionally hitting one in the face. For the most part, they ignore it and continue reaching up to you as if begging you to come down. "You ever think of saying something else? Anyone wanna talk about the new explosion that happened last night? No? The smoke is still a mile high. None of you wanna fess up to causing that one, aye?" you look down at the pale, bloodless faces over the rim of your shades, cocking an eyebrow as you consider each one before you. "Susantha? Jimathy? No one? Hmm. Maybe it was a group of survivors, huh? Maybe some actual humans that could hold a conversation, unlike you guys?" The small herd groans as you goad them. You sigh and look far off in the distance at the black smoke that pollutes the sky. "Doubtful," you confess to the group. "Well, it's been nice hanging out with you lot, but I think it's time I head back home. I've got people waiting for me, after all." You stand, packing away your stale bread for next time. Staring at your feet for a moment, you almost believe there would be someone, anyone waiting for you. But there was no one. You were alone. The dead below moaned and hissed at your new movement. "You guys didn't believe that one, did yah? You're all a bunch of know-it-alls. … Shut up, would you?" you didn't intend to get teary-eyed even if the company was so understanding. "…….. bye guys. I'll be back. I always come back, don't I? You guys know you have first dibs when I decided to just let some deads take a bite, alright?" It wasn't much, but the small group that ended up trapped in a circle of cars out here was the closest thing you had to friends. At least that's what you'd told yourself just so the full panic could never really settle in. You didn't tell them others were living out there. You pretend it would break their little unbeating hearts to know that the only ones you'd come across were villains in the time before all this. You couldn't allow yourself to fall in with those lot, no matter how lonely you'd gotten. They never valued the life of the living before. They couldn't be trusted to value it now.
You were fortunate in these times, perhaps, to have a useful quirk. You're mom had all the abilities of a reptile, and your dad could blend into his surroundings with ease. The combination resulting in you essentially being a chameleon in every way but anatomy and looks, which you were thankful for at the least before the end of the world. When you were a child, you'd cry waking from a dream where you had wild eyes and had to eat flies with a long sticky tongue. That all seemed very trivial now, and at least the tongue could have been useful to safely catch food. Another drawback was you were always cold at night, and could hardly stand to go without a fire or warmth to get you through.
But, what you did have was the ability to blend into your surroundings. Making you exceptionally good at Hide and Seek, as well as confusing Deads that could certainly smell you but not see you.
Leaping down from the bus, you made your usual treck back to your safe haven. A short apartment building that had minimal damage from the looting and fires that followed the reemerging of the dead. It was nestled between a small gulf and the bridge that would take one to the other side. From your window, you could see the fire plum that had been burning all through the night and now well into mid-day. It wasn't unusual for fires to randomly pop up, but this one seemed to be out-lasting the others. Normally, you'd wait till the fire had died before exploring what had caused it or to see what supplies may have been left behind by a random arsonist. You'd learned that those few survivors had a system of setting a fire to signal a stash of reserves nearby. With your quirk it was easy enough to help yourself pick off a few things they wouldn't notice were missing. However, as you looked around your disheveled kitchen, you noticed your rations were lower than you'd usually let them get.
You sighed and decided you'd venture out at first light the next day even if the smoke hadn't died down a little by then. As you took off your clothes and shuffled over to your mattress in the middle of the room you couldn't help but feel like something was waiting for you across that bridge. Something at the heart of that fire. You laughed to yourself, "Always so dramatic. I've just got to get a few supplies then scram. Business as usual."
It was only six in the afternoon by this point, but you'd found it easier to sleep when the sun was still out enough to keep your body warm without having to worry about a fire burning the place down while you slept. You'd be awake and fully alert by time the sun started peaking back over the buildings in the morning.
"Curiosity killed the cat, you know" you told yourself before lulling off to sleep.
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crackspinewornpages · 8 months
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Les Misérables 330/365 -Victor Hugo
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The National Guard found the only one left alive, Enjorlas, with a broken rifle and he said to shoot him he accepted death. They start to take aim when Grantaire regains consciousness from his drinking binge. (if you drank enough to pass out for several days and not wake up as literal war happened outside you’d probably be dead from alcohol poisoning) The silence sobered him (yeah being surrounded by your dead friends with one of them cornered as the police have their guns aimed at him would be pretty sobering) and Enjorlas’s presence shocked him, he was perfectly informed by all around him what happened. (no shit) The soldiers didn’t notice him on the other side of the room (they thought the dude was dead) he shouted “long live the Republic’ he is one and stands besides Enjorlas who allows it and both are shot dead. The soldiers fish out any hiding and fling the bodies out the window and smaller conflicts as the barricade fell a soldier and insurgent fought on the roof and both fell off in an embrace.  
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Marius was a prisoner of Valjean, he didn’t take part in the insurgency but to carry away the wounded. He never took his eyes off of Marius and when he was shot Valjean leaped for him and carried him away. No one saw Valjean with Marius in the attack as they disappeared behind Corinthe. They were sheltered behind a wall but how to escape the massacre, his escape from Rue Polonceau was difficult, now this was impossible. Troops were watching and at the barricade he would be a target, the fighting was getting closer. He stared at the ground in agony and saw a metal grating and the paving stones torn up around it. His art of escape rose up and he raised the grating and descended with Marius much like he did with Cosette years ago and he could vaguely hear the assault on the wine shop above.
BOOK SECOND THE INTESTINE OF THE LEVIATHAN
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Paris cast 25 million into the water a year by means of the intestine sewer, cast into the abyss but if manure was restored to the land it would nourish the world. (no no no nope I draw the line at fertilizing the fields with human sourced manure) France deposits half a million a year and man prefers to get rid of five hundred million in the gutter into the sewer into the ocean tainting the water. The Thames is poisoning London (look up the Great Stink of London) and so Paris transports it downstream, a process that does evil trying to do good. The sewer is a myth, leaking public wealth away. Paris has a quarter population of France and spends the twenty-five millions worth on the sewer system to flush away. If you imitate Paris, you will be ruined, Rome did the same and set the example. (Rome is still known for its sewers)
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A subterranean network of sewers branching off, the history of man reflected in it. All sorts of phantoms haunt it, a putrance of miasma. “The sewer in ancient Paris in the rendezvous of all exhaustions and of all attempts.”p.801 Everything of the city converges there, no longer any secrets, all uncleanliness of civilization falls there coming to an end. A sewer tells everything, terrible stream where bloody hands had been washed, nothing escapes.
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In the middle ages, Paris’s sewer system was legendary, but the capital didn’t know how to manage its affairs and couldn’t sweep filth. Sometimes the sewer slowed and backed up into the city, a warning it didn’t admit to. 1802 the muds flowed over two hundred meters over three feet deep, the cleaning was left to the rains. (so in summary Paris is a shithole) No one thought to explore the sewers until 1805, Bruneseau, as pestilence rose.
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One of the survivors of the expedition told a detail Bruneseau let out, disinfection was rudimentary, after a ways eight of the twenty refused to go further, it was complicated to clean, one notes the paths of water currents time to time, one fainted and the ground would collapse. (and they’re not wearing any breathing or protection gear and you know they’re not getting any hazard pay) Two water conduits dates to 1550, the drains halted here and there, different centuries of sewer vaults. Beneath the Court House they thought they found dungeons, a person missing from 1800, everywhere in the mire a treasure or souvenir from above. At the entrance to the Grand Sewer hung a ragged shroud of Marat. (a political theorist during the Revolution who was murdered in his bathtub) This visit to the sewers lasted seven years to have the network disinfected, this was the sewer of the past.
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Today the sewer is straightened, cleaned almost like a subterranean corridor used by fleeing monarchs and princes. This network now has more prowlers and rats than ever while rain washes it, miasma still inhabits it, the commission of health did their best, it still exhales suspicious odor. The sewers of Paris had been improved, a transmutation between ancient and present, a revolution Bruneseau brought.
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Cleaning the sewer was no easy task, ten centuries of Paris growth, twenty-three thousand three hundred meters of sewer. Napoleon, Louis XVIII, Charles X, Louis Philippe, the Republic ect. all built a section of Paris, today it is ten times what it was with much difficulty and bravery of matinence. Even in 1832 the sewers aren't what they are today, Bruneseau began it but cholera brought vast reconstruction, open cesspools, wells discharging. Thirty years ago the June insurrection was nearly the same sewer streets were sunken and many streets just had maws of catch basins. With progress public hygiene brought up the question of the sewers. Paris is under two sheets, water from heaven and air from the sewer, the miasma mingled in the city. In time, with progress, water will purify air, for ten centuries it has been a cesspool of disease for Paris even with high pay, sewer men were hesitant to plunge. (that’s it that was what everyone was going on about with the sewer chapters I actually didn’t mind reading it I enjoyed it more than the Waterloo chapters and much more than the convent chapters the way people go on about the Paris sewer system you’d think it was half the book)
BOOK THIRD MUD BUT THE SOUL
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Valjean was in the sewers from peril to obscurity, Marius didn’t stir and he didn’t know if he was carrying a corpse. For a moment he was blind and deaf, cautiously feeling himself forward as his eyes grew accustomed. It was up to chance the soldiers would find the grate and investigate, so he plunged into the gloom. They were less safe than he thought, he fell from one hell into another with miasmas and traps, navigating the labyrinth and danger of emerging in front of people drawing police. (out of the fryer and into the fire or in France Mettre de l’huile sur le feu) He dragged Marius on his back, his breathing meant life as he chose a course. He got lost, how was he to get out, would Marius die, was he descending into the Siene, he went on. He was in a watershed, a culminating point and continued avoiding a trap of tunnels and into the path of police. (literally out of the fryer and into the fire)
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On June 6, Prefect Gisquet swept the sewers looking for the vanquished insurgents that might have fled. Valjean took a narrow path, he stood still as the lantern passed his shadow when the patrol heard nothing they consulted. They separated into two squads to check the water shed and Siene, had they continued on they would have found Valjean who only saw their passing lantern. Only to acquit his conscience the Sergeant fired in Valjean’s direction, hitting a few paces from his head. The slow steps died away and once more he was deaf and blind, not moving for a long time.
NEXT
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conjurethecosmos · 3 years
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Honey we need to talk - Steve Rodgers x little!reader
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AN:///Hey this is my first fan fiction so please don’t be that hard on me lmao. also i just wanted to say that this isn’t a kink and I don’t write any kink related stuff. PSA age regression is a coping mechanism. If you like my work please like <3 also my asks are open so feel free to ask or suggest stories if you like :)
Word Count: 2k
(Y/N) POV
The surviving Avengers were finally coming back to the tower. Life had already changed just within the hours of the blip, but (Y/N) was alone and did not know about the blip. (Y/N) had been home at the tower safe, protected, from the terror that the avengers were fighting. She knew about Thanos and how he was trying to get all the stones, but the Avengers are the most powerful superheroes ever, they have to win, right? F.R.I.D.A.Y had been keeping watch of the currently sleeping (Y/N) making sure she was okay. The Avenger’s tower was known to be soundproof to keep the bustling sound of the city outside, which is why (Y/N) hadn’t been disturbed. The screams, screeches of cars, and general commotion of the people were not heard by the sleeping girl. F.R.I.D.A.Y did know what had happened when she lost contact with most of the avengers. She did not want to alarm (Y/N) since she had been extremely stressed out and with stress came her age regression. F.R.I.D.A.Y just did not want her to panic without anyone to physically console her since almost everyone she loved was gone. She would just wait till the remaining avengers arrived back to tell her what happened and so she could inevitably regress in the comfort of someone’s arms.
(Y/N) woke up with a yawn surrounded by scattered stuffed animals and ruffled bedsheets. The first thing that she wanted to do was to check her phone to see if Bucky, Steve, or Peter texted her to check up or send a picture of them together happy and coming home. Peter was a regressor like (Y/N) and they would always play together in the toy room conveniently located next to (Y/N)’s room. But, when she tapped on their phone it would not turn on. Even the dead battery screen that would pop up if she did forget to charge her phone the night before didn’t even pop up. So, she decided to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what was wrong with the phone. “I am sorry (Y/N) I can not seem to turn on your phone, there doesn’t seem to be any issue with it” F.R.I.D.A.Y states. “What do you mean nothing wrong? It won’t even turn on. Ugh I guess I will have to go and get a new phone then.” (Y/N) says. That is when F.R.I.D.A.Y quickly responds “I am sorry to tell you this, but I have been advised to keep you inside for your safety.” She let out a huff and decide that she might as well get dressed. She doesn’t even know when everyone will be back, but the night before Steve called and said that they would all probably be back the following day. All she wanted to do is color and play with stuffies with Peter while Steve sat in the chair in the corner of the shared playroom reading a book.
Steve’s POV
Bucky disintegrated right before his eyes. His best friend, gone, all from a snap. Thanos had disappeared and left Steve, Natasha, Wanda, and Bruce enraged, however, what could they do. The flight back was solemn and quiet. No one dared to cry in front of each other despite the trauma accumulated today, save for Nat who sat quietly crying. Steve only looked forward to seeing his favorite person, (Y/N), which he cared for most of the time due to her tendency to regress when he is with her. He did not mind at all, in fact his caring personality just made him gravitate more towards being (Y/N)’s caregiver. His brain was going a mile a minute just thinking of how to tell (Y/N) that half the population was gone, including some people she loved so much. The avengers were informed by F.R.I.D.A.Y which avenger had sadly been blipped. That only caused the already somber mood to become worse. Steve just sat there staring at the many buttons on planes’ cockpit thinking about how (Y/N) would react to the news of Peter being gone. He was her only little friend, he was always there for her when she was having a hard day and needed to regress. They were best friends, just like Bucky and I. ‘I think I will just tell her as an adult and then take care of her if she needs to regress’ Steve thought. They then eventually started descending onto the landing pad on top of the tower.
(Y/N)’s POV
It was now about 8 pm. You kept youself occupied by cleaning since oddly enough the usual cleaner never showed up.You thought that it was weird, but assumed that the cleaner may have had the day off or something. The T.V. was also broken, like your phone it wouldn’t turn on. You could not watch the news or a movie, so you were pretty bored the whole day.  You were pulled out of your boring thoughts when you heard keys enter the lock on the front door. Steve entered first looking panicked as he looked around to see if you were there, alive. You smiled at him and gave him a big hug, which caused him to hug you tighter almost as if you would disappear right before him. Immediately, you knew it was a hard mission. I mean they were gone for weeks so it had to be hard. However, He had a look on his face that you had never seen before. “Honey we need to talk” Steve sighed. They both walked into your bedroom to talk in private. You sat down on your bed hugging your stuffed purple fluffy bunny that was won by Bucky at a fair one year. Steve got the chair by your desk and moved it to be in front of you and then sat. “So, I am sure you are wondering what happened today?” Steve asked. “Yeah kinda. I haven’t heard anything since my phone is broken and the T.V. was off” you huffed. “Sweetie there really isn’t a good way of putting this...” he hesitated for a second but then started talking again looking at you straight in the eyes, “So Thanos got all the stones and snapped his finger which caused half the population to disappear.” You then started hugging your bunny as he continued to explain which avengers were gone. Tears were already starting to spill as you shut your eyes tightly. When he mentioned that peter was gone that is when you let out a loud pained cry. Steve had to hug you, to comfort his princess. He was not sure if he should have told you that a ton of people were gone, but you needed to know. If he didn’t and you would have asked about Peter, it would probably cause him to burst into tears. You started to regress, he could tell because you started sobbing and rocking. He knew that he needed to comfort you better than just hugging you so he decided that distracting you might be better. “Princess, I know you are sad about what I told you, but I just want you to know I am here for you.” Steve calmly says. “Bu-But I wan Pete n buck” (Y/N) blubbered. “I know baby, you can cry as much as you want,” He says while placing your head on his chest. Tears stain his shirt. He was tempted to cry with you, but he knew he needed to save his tears for when he was alone. Now was the time for his princess to grieve. After you crying for about twenty-five minutes Steve grabbed your paci so you could sleep. He could tell you had regressed. He placed you on your bed to lay down with your favorite bunny stuffie in your arms. Steve decided to sleep in the chair for the night just to watch over you in case you woke in the middle of the night in need of some comfort. He sat there staring at your sleeping form silently sobbing just because of all the stress of the day. It just hit him like a wave, but he eventually fell asleep. You woke up at 2 am to use the bathroom. You looked around the nightlight lit room to find Steve passed out in a chair located in the corner of the room. You slowly walked over, stuffie in hand, to wake the superhero up. You could not go to the bathroom by yourself since she was scared Thanos would be outside her door. Not even the bravest stuffie you owned could calm your fears. You poked Steve’s thigh to wake him up. Steve looked around in a panic only to see your puffy face. “Hey doll, what does my little princess need?” he asks. “I need to go potty, but I scared to go alone...” You shyly stated. “That’s okay, come on baby.” He escorts you to the bathroom and back. “Um Stevie, could you pwease cuddle me to sleep. I scared to sleep myself?” You sheepishly ask. ”Of course my baby.”
The next morning
You had woken up small. You could only speak like a three-year-old. That was okay with Steve though because he loved caring for you. He carried you into the living room and went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee and you a sippy cup with strawberry milk with a plate of mini pancakes. He turned on your favorite Disney movie while he cooked for you. Caring for you was a needed distraction. He needed to feel like he was making a difference and obviously, the events of the previous day made him feel like all his efforts of protecting America or the Earth were all for nothing. But, taking care of you was rewarding and therapeutic. “Stevie, thanks for the pancakes, dis milk is so good too!” (Y/N) exclaimed with a cute little smile. “Aw, you’re so welcome, sweetie.”
5 years later
Time had passed, (Y/N) regressed more often than ever. She was rarely ever her adult self. Thankfully Steve had set up a group talk therapy session with some survivors which (Y/N) joined every time they had a meeting. She would only talk about missing Peter while hugging a stuffie she would bring. The group members never judged her though since they all had their own coping mechanisms if they had any. She was usually really shy in front of the group since mentally she was three and really did not have that much to say in front of the strangers.
Eventually, Bruce hatched an idea to bring everyone back, which caused you to be alone again. You just stayed in the playroom alone playing with barbies or watching a movie. Steve would call you from time to time to check up on you, luckily F.R.I.D.A.Y was a great caretaker and gave you your basic needs. The Avengers were now successful in bringing everyone back. Sadly, Tony had passed away though. You attended his funeral with Steve at your side. You still hadn’t seen Peter yet but did not want to interrupt his grieving since Tony was his main caregiver and mentor. Tony was the only father figure he had and he was just gone. Steve decided it would be best to have you pick a stuffed animal at the store for Peter to keep during this hard time. You decided on a red bear with a gold ribbon on his neck. Steve had the red bear in his hands ready to gift to Peter, while you had a new Pink bear with a white bow around its neck that you named Poppy. Once the funeral was done Steve held your hand to walk up to Peter. He looked so small and in need of someone to care for him. Steve then spoke, “Peter, I am deeply sorry for your loss. I know how you feel and if you need (Y/N) or me, don’t hesitate. (Y/N) thought that she should get you this special bear for you to give you comfort.” He handed Peter the red bear and Peter just hugged it close. Steve knew that he was going to have to take care of Peter and (Y/N) from now on, but he was ready for it. He loved you both dearly. “I hope you like the bear Peter, I thought you would like him since he’s your favorite color. See I have a pink one like yours, we’re twins!” You said trying to distract Peter. Peter rarely ever spoke when he was little, and this wasn’t any different. He eventually accepted your gift with a tight hug as his tears fell on your shoulder. 
Time skip: a couple of months
Peter eventually moved into the tower and got a room next to yours. Steve now had two regressors to take care of now, but at least he had the aid of Bucky who would just baby sit. You were currently in your room putting on one of Steves old shirts with black leggings. His shirts made you feel even smaller since it was so baggy. Steve then quietly knocked on your door for permission to come in. “Yes?” you asked. Steve then opened the door and stepped in with his hand in Peters. Peter had a smile on his face for probably the first time in months. You smiled back and then turned to face Steve who obviously wanted to ask you something. “Are you little right now (Y/N) or are you big because Pete wants to play blocks with you?” Steve asks. You beam and excitedly say, “I wan play blocks! Pete can we make a town wif da blocks and cars and my dollys?” This just caused Peter to run and hug you. You two ran to the next room to play together. Storage containers were quickly opened and blocks were scattered to begin construction on the town. Steve watched you two play from the door with a smile on his face. 
I am sorry this story was everywhere 
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gaiuswrites · 3 years
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King of Cups || Chapter 1
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Chapter 1: The Tower
Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader
Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.
Word count: 3.7k~
Rated: Mature
Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language
Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.
Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.
You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath. 
Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.
The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin. 
Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades. 
And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.
On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.
She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.
The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.
That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars. 
You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.
And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.
You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong. 
A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.
You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.
An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.
You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead. 
And then—
Chaos.
You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.
For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close. 
Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings. 
The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you. 
Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.
It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on. 
Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her. 
“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.
“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.
“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.
“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.
She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out. 
A man. 
Device. 
Charges.
A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.
“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”
///
You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.
Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.
Almost.
But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer- 
and then, nothing.
They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang. 
You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.
“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.
You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.
“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.
///
After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t. 
Can’t. 
You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision… 
You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.
Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.
And he’s not alone.
You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward. 
The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”
Your blood runs cold. 
Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-
The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.
Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands. 
The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist. 
And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.
The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out. 
“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.
///
You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it. 
You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.
And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you. 
Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.
“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.
“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...” 
“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.
The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks. 
He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.
“— Dala.”
Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.
“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin. 
Oh, you think, numb. Huh. 
Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?
A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”
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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years
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Perfect
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Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: After much research and seeking out advice from Tony, Loki asks you on a date. Warnings: dialogue heavy and an adorably awkward Loki A/N: Thank you for requesting @akhansen2800! I hope you enjoy :) 
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Disclaimer: Gif not mine
The common room was a mess, thanks to the trickster god. There was paper and books littered all over the floor. Not to mention bits and pieces from the computer he may or may not have smashed against the ground. It really was hardly his fault, though; it was the insipid machine that dared defy him.
“Woah, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, walking in, sidestepping the junk on the ground. “Did a tornado hit or something?”
“Oh, very funny, Stark. If you ask me, it is an improvement over this drab decor you have picked,” Loki quipped, eyes never leaving the page he was reading.
“No, how could you! My heart, it can’t take this,” Tony overdramatically gasped, flopping on top of the papers strewn on the couch. “Goodbye, cruel world.”
“Your theatrics never cease to amaze me,” Loki sighed, finally looking up at the man he’d come to call friend. “And that says a lot, coming from me.”
“You’re right, it’s high praise.” Tony picked up one of the papers he’d crinkled from laying on top of. “What is all this, anyway?”
Just because Loki considered Tony a friend, didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to say what he was doing. He was still a rather closed off person and, in all honesty, preferred to avoid any and all talks about his emotions. Which, of course, brings him right back to why he’s sitting in the middle of this mess, anyway. His emotions, which, despite his best efforts, he did still have.
Loki stood up and stretched his muscles, achy from being hunched over his reading material for so long.  He snatched away the page Tony was perusing, only for him to grab another one to skim. Realizing any effort to keep confiscating the papers one at a time would be fruitless, Loki moved it all to his room with a snap of his fingers. Then he sat next to his companion and began wringing his hands in that awful nervous tic of his. Truth be told, he could use some advice, but that only brought him back to square one of having to talk about his feelings. Tony leaned back on the couch while patiently awaiting Loki’s answer.
“I was doing some research,” Loki finally admitted. “On some Midgardian things.”
“That’s cute, Reindeer, but you could just ask me. Or maybe Peter if it's a pop culture thing.”
“It is not.” Loki wondered how much he could beat around the bush before he either had to give up on the conversation or genuinely say what was wrong. “It is just something I am not entirely sure how to go about.”
“I’m great at giving advice.”
“No, you are not,” Loki rolled his eyes.
“Sure I am!” Tony exclaimed, feigning hurt. “How would you know, anyway? You’ve never actually asked me for any.”
“Maybe not, but I have seen the way you live your own life, Stark.”
“That’s entirely different,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, give me a chance. Fire away, I’m ready.”
Loki merely rolled his eyes again, though he was actually considering it. He hated to admit it—he really hated to admit it—but Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to him. That was absolutely ridiculous, of course, considering how Loki was a thousand years older than the man. But after his childhood, he’d be silly to reject that kind of relationship. Loki supposed that if he had to go to anyone with this problem, Tony wasn’t a terrible option. Besides, he should probably let himself be emotionally vulnerable very once in a while, right? That was supposed to be good or something, he thought. So, he steeled himself, and told Tony his issue.
“There is this Midgardian that I know. They are very sweet and kind and perfect... I mean, they are as bearable as a Midgardian can be,” Loki covered up, blushing slightly from how much he had just revealed. “I would like to ask them to spend some time with me, but I am not sure how.”
“Awww, you have a crush,” Tony cooed. “How sweet. You want to ask them out.”
“No,” Loki protested, stubborn as ever. Tony just raised his eyebrows at him. “Ok, fine! Yes, I would like to take them on a date, but I am dreadfully lacking in knowledge on Midgardian dating etiquette.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Tony grinned. “Oh and take notes.”
And so, Loki spent the next two and a half hours listening to Tony ramble on. Most of it was just him going on rather useless tangents about his own endeavors in love. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes so many times, he began to fear they might roll out of his head. His notes, at least, were pretty amusing. Ok, to call them notes may be a little generous. They were mainly silly doodles of Tony monologuing, with the few helpful things he said jotted in the margins. He got so invested in one of his little caricatures that he didn’t even notice Tony stopped speaking.
“Hey, that’s not what I look like,” Tony pouted, peering at the drawing.
“Well nothing you were saying was helping, Stark.” Loki put the note pad in one of his dimensional pockets. “I am not like you. I am not a flashy person when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“Oh, so you want to go the be yourself way. You know, the sappy speeches and flowers and chocolates direction.”
Loki perked up a bit. “Yes. Yes, that sounds splendid.”
Tony sighed and gave Loki a list of movies to watch. And told him to speak from the heart. That troubled Loki; no one ever really cared to listen to him speak before. But, he dutifully watched all the assigned movies, supplemented by some of the books he was still combing through.
After a week of preparation and many, many drafts of a speech to say to you, Loki was finally ready to ask you out. Donning his best Midgardian suit, he walked out of his room, greeted by a bright flash of light. Tony was standing there, camera in hand.
“Look, at my little boy,” he fake cried. “All grown up.”
“Stark, will your antics ever stop?” Loki looked at the camera out of the corner of his eye. “And delete that photo, I was not ready.”
“Nope. It’s payback for all those unflattering doodles. Now, go get ‘em, Reindeer. Remember: Just be yourself.”
Easier said than done, Loki thought as he called upon his seiðr, teleporting to your street. You were an employee at Stark Tower; that’s how the two of you met. Loki had been looking for his brother, his search taking him into the cafeteria, one of his least favorite places in the whole building. It was always too loud and populated for someone who liked his silence and solitude. The sheer number of people in the room was overwhelming to the god that day, but he needed to speak with Thor, and he’d searched just about every other place his brother could be. He could not spot him in the crowd, but his eyes landed on you, off near a corner at a table alone and reading a book. He cast one last nervous look around the room before heading towards where you were, his social anxiety kicking in.
“Hello,” he said after clearing his throat.
You looked up at him with a dreamy sort of gleam in your eye that revealed how enchanted you’d been with your book. It gave Loki a little boost of confidence to know that that happened to you, too. That you could get so lost in a story that the world around you disappeared. It calmed his racing heart a little.
“Oh uh, hi,” you greeted with a chipper smile. Then more nervously, added, “It’s Loki, right?”
“Yes, that is correct. Loki of Asgard, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, sweeping into a small bow. “And you are?”
You told him his name, extending your hand for a shake. “How can I help you?”
“I am looking for my brother, but I cannot find him. You have not seen him around, have you?”
“I actually did see him earlier, though I’m not sure- Wait!” you suddenly exclaimed, and Loki followed your gaze. “He’s over there.”
Loki gulped. Of course his brother was at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by people. He really needed to talk to him about a mission, but the thought of going over there was making his stomach feel queasy. He tried to take a step forward, but his feet were apparently glued to the floor.
“Hey, if you’re nervous about going over there, I get it. Crowds can be scary,” you said, picking up on his subtle fidgeting. “The room usually clears out significantly in about ten minutes from now. I, um, was going to that little cafe over in the corner and get some tea or coffee, if you want to come.” Loki stared at you for a moment, unused to being invited places, especially by mortals he did not know. You seemed to mistake his silence, though, and rushed to assure him he didn’t have to. “Sorry, that was probably stupid. You’re under no obligation to say yes, of course. I understand.”
“No! I mean, yes.” He sighed and mentally smacked himself. Ever since moving to Midgard, his silver tongue was not what it used to be around strangers. “I mean, no that is not stupid, and yes, I would like to go to that cafe with you.”
And go to that cafe you did, launching into an animated conversation about reading. Loki even made you laugh, which felt like a huge accomplishment to him. The both of you sat back down at your table with your warm drinks, still chatting. There were very few people Loki ever felt so relaxed with, especially so soon after meeting them. You didn’t talk about anything groundbreaking, but he enjoyed talking to a kindred spirit. Somehow you even got a smile tugging at his lips, getting wider by the minute.
True to what you’d said, the room noticeably emptied nearly ten minutes later. With only a few people left and after such an amazing conversation, Loki was sure he could go grab his brother out of the room. But that was the problem; the conversation was too amazing, and he didn’t want it to end. And it seemed you didn’t either.
“Hey, um, maybe this is weird, but do you maybe want to talk again sometime? Like if you ever need a friend or are bored or anything?” you ventured.
“I would love that,” he genuinely replied.
You quickly wrote down your number and, after double and triple checking it, handed it to him. He tucked it safely away in one of his inner pockets before getting up and you bidding you goodbye. Then, in a better mood than he’d been in in a long time, Loki waltzed over to Thor’s table and successfully extracted him from the few people still clinging to his every word. He glanced back at you one last time before exiting, and you gave him a small, somewhat shy wave. He returned it along with a smile.
Loki kept that all in his heart as he walked up to your door, finger hovering by the bell for a minute. Maybe this was silly. No, this was definitely ridiculous. But, if he stood here any longer, your neighbors would probably think he was some crazy person.
Really, he shouldn’t be so nervous. You talked all the time since that day of your first meeting, and you’d never seemed bothered by him before. Not even when he started bringing surprise morning coffees to your desk. Or when he started leaving you books he thought you might like. Or when he started giving you little hugs when you seemed down. In fact, you seemed touched by all that. But this was all so new to him, so different from anything he’d known before. What if he was reading it all wrong? Before he could talk himself out if it, he rang the bell.
He heard you shout that you were coming in response. He quickly adjusted his tie and then stood with the flowers hidden behind his back. He made sure to get a bouquet of your favorites. You opened the door and your mouth made an adorable little “o” of surprise before your lips formed a sweet smile.
“Loki!” you greeted, smoothing down your sweatshirt. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s great to see you. Um, do you want to come in? The place is kind of a mess right now, but-”
Loki whipped out the flowers from behind him, making you cut out in surprise. He stared at his feet and nervously mumbled, “These are for you.”
“Loki, these are so beautiful. This is so sweet. Thank you.” You gave him one of those shy smiles that he loved so much. “I feel bad, I don’t have anything for you.”
“That is quite alright. I have come here to ask you something.”
“Oh! Ok. I’m all ears.”
Loki smiled at the Midgardian expression, calming him a little. “We have been friends for some time now, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute—nay, every second—I have spent with you. You are the most kindhearted being I have ever met, beautiful both inside and out. And thus, I find myself wanting something more than friendship, if you will allow it. My dear, sweet, darling little mortal, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”
“Oh, Loki,” you breathed. “That was beautiful. I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”
He cheered on the inside, and you hugged him close. After you pulled away, the two of you stood there for a minute, smiling like dorks. It seemed to Loki that no matter how badly he wanted to say something else, the only thought occupying his brain was that you said yes. He could hardly believe you said yes.
“So, uh, what are we going to do on our date?” you sheepishly asked.
Loki’s face dropped. He couldn’t believe how foolish he was. “I do not know yet. I knew there was something I was forgetting. I am sorry, darling.”
“That’s ok, Loki,” you kindheartedly laughed. “Tell you what, there’s a bookstore with the most adorable little cafe in it, just a couple blocks from here. Why don’t we go there?”
“That sounds perfect,” he replied, his smile returning already. “How does tomorrow sound? I can come pick you up around noon?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
You stared at each for another minute, those same goofy grins that gave away how happy you were plastered on your faces. When Loki began to overthink how awkward he probably looked, he found it in himself to tear his eyes away from your beauty.
“So I shall see you tomorrow then,” he nervously said.
“Yup! See you then,” you replied, your nerves equaling his own.
After a quick hug and waving goodbye to each other, you parted ways. Soon, Loki was back home in the Tower, happily sprawled on the sofa, book in hand.
“Hey Reindeer Games,” Tony greeted. “So, how’d it go? Was I right, or was I right?”
“As much as it pains me to admit it, Stark, you were right.” Loki smiled to himself, already daydreaming about your date. “It was perfect.”
Loki found that after so much anxiety and uncertainness, there was finally one thing he knew; tomorrow was going to be perfect, too.
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Day 1 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: Roleplay
Ao3
"'Passion' a word which involves so many feelings. I feel it when we touch; I feel it when we kiss; I feel it when I look at you. For you are my passion; my one true love."
Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.
Jean got into a bad mood each day they went to the market. He didn’t like crowds, and the population of the island had grown considerably after the signing of the peace accords. He liked his Saturdays quiet and lazy, with her and their baby girl as his only company, not surrounded by shouting vendors and haggling grandmas everywhere.
But he couldn’t deny her anything, and Mikasa knew that very well. It only took a “Jean, please,” with her eyes set onto his for him to become a puddle. Five years together and she still had the same power on him. And oh how he adored that.
“Jean,” she called, walking back to hold his hand and pull him along. “You’re staying behind,”
“Sorry!” Jean said, catching up to her strides. “Are you sure she’s going to be fine?”
“Your mom adores her. She’s been wanting to take her to the beach festival for a while,” she said. “And besides, Connie is with her. They will be fine.”
“Connie spoils her too much,” Jean said, shaking his head. “She’s going to eat three kilos of candy,”
Mikasa turned to look at him over her shoulder, giving him a smile that almost froze him on the spot. She was so pretty; beyond pretty, she was perfect. She usually kept her hair up in a bun when they went grocery shopping to not draw attention, but the sight of her jawline and neck was almost enough for send him over the edge. All jean wanted to do was push her into an alley, kiss her until he ran out of breath, undo that hairdo and pull on her hair as he—
“Jean,” Mikasa said as they reached the next fruit stand. She was facing him now, pretty eyes confused. “Are you okay?”
Jean cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, cursing himself. All Mikasa wanted was buy apples and pears at peace, and there he was, aroused in the middle of the market because his wife was showing a little bit of neck.
Sure, being parents in a two-bedroom apartment made things difficult, and they couldn’t make love as often as they had back when they’d been childless.
He adored their little girl, but she was at a point in which all she wanted was to hug mommy at night, and she either slept in between the two, or convinced Mikasa to sleep with her in her room.
Well, Jean also wanted some time with his woman.
Tonight, he reminded himself. Tonight, they would have the apartment all to themselves, and then they would head out to the beach the next day, to meet up with his mother and Connie.
Tonight, they would finally have the whole apartment for themselves. Tonight, he would lick her for hours. Tonight, he would make her come over and over with his tongue and then he would fuck her right on the kitchen counter.
“Jean, you’re spacing out.”
He shook his head; he couldn’t allow himself to get fired up in the middle of the market, not in front of the old lady that was bagging up their fruit. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek.
Mikasa blushed and gave the old lady a sideways glance, making him smile. She’d never been too comfortable with public displays of affection, he knew. “Sorry again,”
“Don’t be,” she replied bashfully, then stepped a bit closer. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, kissing her forehead again and loving the sight of her blush deepening. “I’ll go get the onions.”
“You’re trying to get me flustered, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a mischievous half smile.
“Always, Ackerman,” he said, giving him a proper smirk. “Be right back,”
He’d taken all the bags with him. He’d done it to keep her from carrying the bags. A sweet thing (he was a sweet, sweet man) but a careless thing, too, Mikasa thought as she walked with two large cabbages and a handful of scallions tucked in her arms.
He wasn’t hard to find in the crowd. He’d never been, with how tall he was…also, he was too handsome, too well built to go unnoticed. Everywhere they did, he drew eyes his way, both from men and women. Usually, whenever he was with her, nobody dared to try and approach him.
The fact that he’d been alone for ten minutes was probably the reason why that red headed woman had approached him.
She was, simply put, astonishing. Tall, with large breasts speckled with freckles, wide hips and a plump set of lips. Her hair was cascading down her shoulder, brushed so many times that it shone like molten copper, her eyes of a deep blue and her smile kind and sweet.
“Honey,” Mikasa said, reaching his side. Jean turned to look at her with a wide smile. He took the cabbages from her hands and tucked them inside the bags, readjusting them over his shoulder. “This is where you’ve been?”
Jean blinked, confused. “Didn’t you say you’d meet me here?”
“Oh,” Mikasa said, recalling what she’d said. “Yes.”
Jean smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I was just talking to Melody,” he said, gesturing to the redhead in front of him. “Melody, this is my wife.”
The girl beamed at her. “A pleasure,” she said, reaching out to shake her hand, her breasts almost spilling out of her cleavage. “Jean was just talking about you and your little girl.”
“Do you know each other?” Mikasa asked.
Melody gave Jean a shy look he didn’t return. “We were friends back in the day,” she said, with a shrug.
Mikasa understood what that meant; Jean had known the touch of many women before they got together. And she couldn’t blame him; she’d loved another person, and then she had mourned him for three years. During those three years Jean had been young, handsome, independent…it was ridiculous to think that he would remain single.
And he was a good back then as well as now, so most of the girls he’d dated, he still treated them politely whenever he encountered them. Still, Mikasa did not like seeing him interact with whoever he’d shared a bed with before. And Jean knew this.
“Melody is here with her husband,” he said. “She’ll be in Shingashina for a little while.”
“Wonderful,” Mikasa mumbled, inevitably looking at the girl. She was two years or three younger, and feminine as a doll. Why had she decided to put on that stained old dress for today?
Because market days weren’t meant to be fancy days, she reminded herself. They weren’t meant to be spent in fancy, tight dresses that enhanced the color of your eyes. Hadn’t anyone told this girl?
But, who was she kidding, trying to think badly of her just for wearing gorgeous clothes and having brushed her hair? Melody was gorgeous, feminine, and maybe yes, Mikasa had a bit of a complex about not being as girly as the other cadets during her teenage years, a complex she hadn’t quite gotten over yet.
“We should meet for dinner one day,” the girl said, but something told Mikasa that her words were meant mostly for Jean. “I need to run now, I’m all done with grocery shopping,”
She looked back at the group of older women carrying her bags for her, waving at them in an almost childish gesture, before giving Mikasa a respectful bow and a smile to Jean. “I’ll see you around, Kirstein,”
Mikasa tightened her grip on the little bag as the girl walked away; Jean didn’t watch her walk, neither did he smile back at her. No, his eyes were only on her. His attention had always belonged to Mikasa, all his desire has always been solely focused on her.
Still, Mikasa couldn’t help but to narrow her eyes at him. “You got distracted?”
“Not at all,” he said, stepping closer to her and kissing her temple. Mikasa closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, and put a hand on his waist to look up at him. “Please don’t tell me you think I’d—”
“I don’t think anything,” Mikasa said, shaking her head, feeling ashamed of herself for the frown she’d put on his face.
“I know you don’t like to see them. But I swear she just came to say hi,” Jean said, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving her another kiss. Mikasa wrapped her hands around his waist fully now, pressing her head to his chest. “Mika, I’ve got no eyes for anyone else. You’re perfect, and I love you.”
Mikasa looked up at him, brought to comfort by the warmth of his arms around her. He was looking at her with the same expression he had for all these years; one that spoke only about deep, passionate, unyielding love. “I love you too,” she said, closing her eyes, inviting him to kiss her lips.
Jean tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to press his lips against hers. The passing vendor that pushed him to the side broke the spell, however, and it also almost made Jean tumble to the ground.
“Are you okay?” Mikasa said, holding on to him and leading him to the side of the street.
“I’m fine,” he said, then glared at the group of children that passed by, running and shouting at the top of their lungs. He smiled at her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “The market is not the most romantic of places.”
Mikasa lowered her head. It had been her idea to come today; he’d wanted to stay indoors, make love to her all morning and then cook breakfast together. “I’m sorry,”
“Don’t apologize,” he said,’cupping her face with one hand. “You are gorgeous, and we have a home to look after, don’t we?”
“We do,” Mikasa said, nodding.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and giving it a kiss. “I’ll make lunch for you,”
“I love you, Jean,”
“I love you too, Mikasa,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder so they could make their way along the street. “I gotta say, this jealousy thing you have is an ego boost.”
“I know you get a laugh out of it,” she said, smiling once again when he kissed her temple. She looked over her shoulder, to where the girl had been. Did he miss his bachelor life? Did he miss dressing up and going on fancy dates with mysterious, rich girls? All pointed to him not missing it, but he’d lived as a single man for a long time before anything reciprocal happened between them.
Mikasa narrowed her eyes as she came up with an idea.
___________________________
Most of the afternoon had been too hectic to nap, or do anything else. The whole time, he’d stared at Mikasa as she sorted the food they’d gotten, as they cooked lunch and cleaned the rooms in their apartment. And whenever she’d let her hair down, he’d felt himself growing hard.
Jean entered the shower with his cock throbbing with desire for his wife. He needed her. He’d been lusting after her the whole morning, the whole afternoon, and now he was throbbing in his pants for her.
He turned on the warm water and put his head under it, noticing thick droplets of precum leaking out of the tip of him. If he came to her like this after their shower, he would come in his pants before he even got the chance to give her any pleasure.
So, Jean rubbed the length of his cock, slowly at first, thinking about the curve of her neck, her jealous display that morning. He thought of ripping the clothes off her as he rubbed himself more, then he imagined her nipples in his mouth, her perfect beautiful nipples that got so hard so easily…he would make her scream tonight; he would fuck her hard and long.
Jean pressed his forehead against the shower wall, picturing her squirming and shouting, then spilled his own pleasure as the water ran down his back. It was a quick orgasm, just quick enough to hold on during the night.
When he came out of the shower, however, he didn’t find her in their room. There was a little note, hastily written on their recently made bed.
Balcony.
She’d laid out clothes for him; the military suit he’d worn for the signing of the peace accords, years ago. Jean smiled, confused by what she was planning, but he wasn’t one to complain.
He wanted to take her out for dinner; they hadn’t had a date in two months and this little vacation from parenting was the perfect chance for him to spoil her.
Even in his military suit, he found himself severely underdressed when he saw her waiting at the balcony. The sun had started to go down, and the orange colors of the sky matched perfectly with her red, tight dress she had on. She’d put a soft red lipstick on; Mikasa didn’t wear much make up, and he loved her like that, but the sight of her red lips only brought the image of her lovely mouth wrapped tightly around his cock.
Control yourself, dumbass, he told himself.
“Hey,” he said, smiling as he opened the door to their balcony. She’d laid out wine and a table of bread, cheeses and meat. “Are we staying in tonight?”
Mikasa stared at him with a blank face, almost as if…she didn’t know him.
“What’s going on, honey?”
“Why are you calling me your honey?” She asked, and Jean didn’t know whether he ought to be worried or terrified. Of all the things that had happened to them so far, she couldn’t have lost her memory now.
“It’s not funny, Mika,” he said, coming close to her to grab her arm, but his wife pulled away.
“Do you go around touching strangers?” Mikasa asked and, as she turned to face the city, Jean saw the hint of a smile on her face…and understanding came to him. He smirked; so, she wanted to get playful?
You’re naughty, Ackerman, he thought.
“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning back against the thick railings, a careful distance away from her, still close enough to smell her perfume. “You’re just a lovely looking little thing,”
Mikasa didn’t look back at him, but he saw the hints of a blush on her cheeks. He tilted his head to the side; he’d flirted like this many many times in the past. He’d never flirted with her, though. Their love had grown without the need of flirting, as well as their desire for each other. It had been a natural thing, like the thawing of winter, like the arrival of the spring rains.
Flirting with her like this…it amused him. It aroused him.
“Do you go around calling girls ‘thing’?” She said, giving him a sideways glance that showed Jean in full just how blushed she was. Her smiled at her; she wasn’t used to this, and flirting was clearly not her stronghold. “Who are you, anyways?”
Jean poured a glass of wine each before he stepped closer to her. “Who are you?” He asked, his eyes traveling her body up and down. He didn’t hide his desire for her in his gaze; he was telling her without words that he wanted every bit of her, and Mikasa exhaled deeply when he brushed some hair away from her shoulder. “You don’t look like people around here.”
She cracked a little smile at that. “I don’t?”
“You have really pretty black hair,” he said, his smirk becoming bolder.
“Thanks.”
“What’s your name?” Jean asked, his fingers tracing her shoulder, making her shiver.
“Mikasa,” she said in a low voice.
“That name isn’t from around,” Jean raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. “Are you from the island?”
“I grew up in Hizuru,” she said, looking down. “Half of my family is Azumabito.”
“Ah, hizuran royalty? Tilt your head back a bit, please,” Jean said, and Mikasa did as he asked. He put the glass of wine against her lips and she took a couple of sips. “I hope you won’t mind me, lady, I’m just a military officer.”
“What’s your name?” Mikasa asked. There were some droplets of wine on her chin, which Jean wiped off with his index.
“Jean Kirstein, lady,” he said, his finger going up to her mouth, tracing the shape of her lower lip. “Tell me, won’t this get you in trouble?”
“Yes,” Mikasa said, her dark eyes on his. “But I got a night away from my guardians.”
“And you want to be naughty with the first stranger you see?” Jean asked, giving her a wicked smile that brought a tiny surprised yelped out of her. “Won’t you get in serious problems if you’re seen with a lowly official like me?”
“I might,” Mikasa said, biting her lower lip before casting a glance inside their apartment.
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Jean asked. “Somewhere you won’t be seen? I would feel terrible if you got into trouble.”
“Do you want to go inside?”
“Yes,” he said. Mikasa nodded and walked back, and just the sight of her hips moving in that dress was enough to get his cock hard once again.
He took the bottle of wine with him, then closed the door and drew the curtains. Mikasa was facing away from him, and Jean took that as an invitation. He pressed himself hard against her back, letting her feel how hard he was with her buttock. Then, he brushed the hair away from her shoulders, uncovering her lovely naked neck.
“Do you have a habit of taking foreign men to bed?” He asked her as he put hot kisses on her neck. Mikasa closed her eyes and tilted her head back, a position that Jean used to feed her some more of that wine, directly from the bottle. A little spilled onto her naked chest, which Jean wiped with his thumb and brought up to her mouth for her to suck on. “Do you have a habit of letting men feel you up like this?”
Mikasa shook her head. “What about you?” She turned around to face him. “Do you have a habit of bringing random girls to your apartment?”
Jean put his hand against her cheek. So that was it. She hadn’t liked seeing that girl, that shadow he barely remembered of his past. She’d seen the way Mikasa had looked at the girl’s dress, and knew her well enough to understand the sight of her hadn’t pleased her.
“Not anymore,” he said, caressing her cheek. He knew he had a past with women, she knew that as well. And he was willing to reassure her as many times as it took, that the idea of even looking at another woman was ridiculous to him, unthinkable. “Not ever again, after you.”
Mikasa leaned into his touch, sighing deeply. “Are you not married, officer Kirstein?”
Jean smiled, they were playing again. “Not yet,” he said, leaning forward again, smelling her perfume and the wine intertwining. “I’d marry you tonight if you let me.”
“I’ll definitely get in trouble for that,” she said, breathing heavily. Jean’s cock was beginning to leak by now. He needed her, so so badly. “I’m only a commoner for tonight.”
“What are you after tonight?” He asked playfully. “A princess?”
Mikasa nodded, and he noticed her squeezing her legs together in anticipation. “I leave tomorrow morning.”
“Can I make the hizuran princess come with my tongue?” He asked in a low voice, getting a moan out of her. Mikasa nodded, her eyes half lidded, full of desire.
Just a nod was all he needed. Jean surrounded her body with his arms and kissed her; their mouths joined together almost desperately, and their tongues found each other quick. Her dress was tight, tight enough for him to perfectly feel the shape of her breasts against his shirt.
Jean took her in his arms and sat her on the small coffee table in their living room. “This is so pretty,” he said as he ran his hands up and down the fabric of her dress. “I don’t want to rip it off.”
“Rip it off,” she asked, and Jean was too aroused to not do so. He would buy her a brand-new dress tomorrow, he thought as he ripped the pretty red fabric to reveal her naked body. Her inner thighs were wet already, and Jean was amazed to see her pussy slick and ready for him.
But no, not yet. He would take his time with her. He would fuck her good and hard all night, but now he would focus on making her come. “Can I see you touch yourself, princess?”
Mikasa propped herself up on one elbow. “What?”
“I want to see you,” Jean said, parting her legs further apart. He wanted to taste her, he wanted her pussy all over his face. But first, he wanted to play some more. “I want you to show me, princess, how you want me to touch you. Please?”
_____________________________
Mikasa hesitated a second. Jean had played with her enough times for her to know what she liked and how she liked it, but he rarely asked to watch. He was in his knees in front of her, his penis bulging in his pants, his face red and full of desire.
She wanted to see more of that expression.
So, Mikasa put her two fingers above the little bulge of pleasure just above her folds and gave a little rub. She was soaked through; a little flirting with Jean and just a few kisses had been enough to leave her like a puddle.
She gave her clit a careful rub, moaning at the touch of her fingers. Then, she rubbed a little more.
“Look at me,” Jean asked. Mikasa kept moving her fingers in a circular motion, then one of Jean’s hand was on her breast, squeezing her nipple with two fingers while his other hand…his other hand brought out his penis, huge and throbbing and beautiful.
The hand on his breast soon went to join the fingers she was using to masturbate. He moved his fingers alongside hers, then introduced two inside her wet slit. All the while, he jerked himself. There were thick beads of white liquid on the head of his cock, which he wiped with two fingers and used to wet her nipples with.
“You are so naughty, princess,” he said, squeezing her breast. “Letting a stranger like me play with you like this,”
His fingers twitched inside her, in that hook like motion she enjoyed so much, and her fingers onn her clitoris became quicker. Her breath became heavier, and she could feel that buildup of pleasure becoming incredibly high. She looked at him the whole time, her eyes set on his body. The muscles in his arms became more prominent when he played with himself, and oh his dick looked so big in his hands, all Mikasa could think about was putting it inside her mouth, or her pussy.
“Jean,” she called, the motions of her fingers becoming quicker. She was so close. “Jean! Ahhh…”
Mikasa tilted her head back, her fingers working nonstop, and arched her back. She was coming now. He took that as another invitation. Jean leaned forward, removed his fingers and pressed his tongue against her entrance just in time to drink up all the juices that leaked out of her with her orgasm.
Mikasa’s moans died down as the waves of her orgasm left her, but Jean didn’t move away. Instead, he pressed his face closer to her pussy, and began licking.
“I need to taste you, princess,” he said, looking up as he ran his tongue alongside her whole and over her folds. His smile was wicked, his eyes pure desire. “I need to taste more of your juices, princess.”
She grabbed his head by the head, suddenly possessed by a sudden urge to dominate him, and brought his face back down onto her pussy. “Taste,” she told him, unsure where the sultry sound in her voice was coming. “Drink all of me,”
Jean became a beast; he buried his face inside her, two fingers inside and his tongue incessantly pulsing against her clit, driving her insane. He knew in which way to move his tongue, he knew exactly what to do and knew how to make her come.
Soon, Mikasa came on his tongue and face again. This time, when she spilled her wetness on him, she was screaming his name. She propped herself up on her elbows again, to look at his face. His nose, mouth and cheeks were covered in wetness. He was oh, so beautiful.
“I’m not done, princess,” he informed her, giving her folds another tentative lick that made her squirm in pleasure. Just how many times would he make her come tonight? “Come up, please.”
Mikasa did as he requested, and soon, Jean wrapped the tie around her eyes. Everything went dark around her, but she could clearly feel his fingers pressing onto her clitoris.
“This way, when they ask you who fucked you all night, you can tell them you don’t know,” he said, using his strong arms to lay her back against the table.
“You’re going to get carried away,” Mikasa moaned. “Let me, let me use my mouth—”
“No, princess,” he said, sucking on her clit before speaking again. “Tonight I’m your servant. I’m your knight, the knight that’s going to make you flood the carpet.”
“I’m supposed to be a commoner tonight,”Mikasa moaned, leaning her head back as he buried his face between her legs. Everything was black, but she could feel his fingers entering her, moving back and forth, she could tell that his tongue was enjoying every bit of her.
“You’re never a commoner, Mikasa,” he said, sucking on her again. “You’re a queen, and a queen must always be treated accordingly.”
________________________
He loved her taste. No, he adored it. And he loved hearing her come, her voice high pitched and full of his name. The juices didn’t stop coming; not the first time, not the second time, not the third. And on the fourth time he made her come, even more juices came out.
His face was soaked by the time he felt like he could take it no longer, and when he came back up to kiss her, he almost said I love you to her.
But no; they were playing just now. And now he was the military official, shamelessly fucking the princess on her diplomatic visit. “Here, come taste yourself,” he said, grabbing her by the back and lifting her up. She parted lips for him without trying to remove the tie from her eyes. He pressed his lips to hers, and her tongue explored his mouth for long minutes.
Her hand was soon stroking his cock; she wanted him, she’d wanted to suck on him earlier, and he hadn’t let her. “You’re eager to learn, aren’t you, princess?”
“I want to make you feel good, officer,” she replied, stroking him harder.“Let me use my tongue.”
Jean pushed her back against the coffee table; there was a puddle on the wood, a puddle that was dripping onto the carpet. He would need to change and clean all of that before the weekend finished.
Her parted legs where right there in front of him, though. Changing the carpet was the least of his worries. Jean leaned forward, rubbing the tip of his penis on her clit, making her moan more.
“Aren’t you going to let me?” She asked; her pale cheeks were completely red, and she was breathing heavily from all the times she’d come. Jean smiled; that sweet face was all he needed.
“We need to make you feel good, princess,” he said, pushing the head of his cock inside her. He knew he was big, he knew how much she enjoyed it when he introduced his dick slowly, letting her feel every inch. Mikasa moaned as her went deeper, her mouth opening into a perfect little O. He couldn’t take it any longer; Jean grabbed the tie and threw it away, needing to see his wife’s eyes as he pushed deep inside.
“Jean,” she moaned, giving him a lusty gaze. “All the way,”
“Yes, princess,” he said, pushing his whole length inside her, making her yelp. “We’ll do this a couple of times, okay? I want you to go back home well fucked.”
“Hard,” she asked, her voice sweet and and pleasure filled. “Fuck your princess hard,”
Jean pushed inside of her and then came out, then he came back down, making her moan out loud. She brought a hand up to her mouth, almost as if to stifle her moans. Fuck, she was cute. “Hey,” he said, grabbing her hand gently and pressing it against the table, exposing her mouth. “There’s just us home, okay? Be as loud as you want,”
“But—” a moan escaped her throat as he thrusted inside her.
“Let me hear you scream, princess,” he said, thrusting slowly, with one of his hands rubbing on her clit. “Let me hear you scream.”
“Jean!” She moaned as he thrusted quicker. This is exactly what he wanted; he wanted her loud, he wanted her driven to the edge with pleasure, he wanted her sweaty and all to himself. This is what he’d been thinking about all day.
“Fuck, I love you,” he moaned against her ear. “You’re such a good princess,”
“Mine,” Mikasa moaned, wrapping her arms around his back, kissing him on the lips with urgency as he pumped inside her. “You’re mine, Kirstein. Mine,”
“All yours,” he moaned as well, feeling himself getting closer and closer to his orgasm. “I’m going to cum soon.”
“Inside me,” she panted.
Jean chuckled against her ear. “Do you want to get pregnant, your highness?” He said, thrusting nonstop, feeling thick beads of sweat on his forehead. “Do you want to return home with my child in your belly?”
“I’m not going back,” she screamed; so, his fingers were working wonders. “I’m staying here!”
“Wanna get fucked some more?” Jean asked.
“Yes!”
“Want me to come inside?” Jean asked, his knees weaker, his balls tight with the closeness of his orgasm. “Want me to fill you up?”
“Fill me, Jean,” Mikasa said, opening her mouth, now screaming in full. The quiet, collected princess she’d played transformed into a lustful, insatiable woman. “Fill me!”
“I’ll fill you all the fucking time, princess,” he promised, groaning more and more like an animal. He needed to come, he would go mad if he didn’t. “I’ll fill all of your holes, princess, I promise.”
“I love you,” Mikasa said, grabbing him by the neck to press her forehead against his. Jean kissed her, unable to hold back any longer. He spilled his seed inside her, with his lips still on hers, muffling her moans of pleasure as she came again from his fingers. Their orgasms had the strength of an explosion, and both of them shouted into each other’s mouth as their pleasure spilled on each other.
Jean crumbled on top of her chest, breathless. He was still pulsing inside her, his dick half-hard in her sweet, warm wetness.
“I love you, Mika,” he said, kissing her neck and recalling their game. “Oh sorry, I love you,’princess.”
Mikasa smiled at him, her face red and tired. “Did you like it?”
“I love everything we do,” he said, kissing her lips again. “But I think we’ll do this princess-knight thing more often. It’s so hot.”
Her smile wavered a little, and Jean felt his heart tightening by the sight of her sudden disappointment. He cupped her face, giving her another kiss on the lips. “What is it? Didn’t you like it?”
“I loved it,” she said, looking away from him. “It’s just…do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Getting women like this,” she said, closing her eyes. “You know, one-night stands. Do you miss sleeping with your rich friends?”
Jean stopped smiling, then kissed her cheek. “Did you do this whole roleplay thing because of that?” He asked her. “Did you do it because you thought I missed hooking up?”
Mikasa opened her eyes, then shook her head. “I wanted to play, I wanted…” she admitted, a little ashamed. “I wanted you, but I also wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to see the Jean that seduced all those women.”
"That Jean and this Jean are the same, Mika,” he said, brushing away the hair sticking to her forehead. “Honey, you’ve got all of me. All of me. I don’t need another woman, I don’t miss those days.”
“You don’t?”
“Not at all,” Jean said, placing another kiss on her lips. “I make love to the woman I love, to the mother of my child, to the woman I crushed on for years.”
Mikasa giggled a little at that, making him smile wider. That laughter was only for him and their daughter; that laughter was enough for him to be sure he wanted nothing other than the woman in front of him (or under him, if he had to be accurate).
“Mikasa Ackerman, I adore you with every bit of my being,” he said, cupping her face again. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t miss the empty, loveless sex. All I want is to make love to you, and have you love me back. I love flirting with you, and I love it when we get naughty, but that doesn’t mean I miss any part of my life as a single man.”
“I love you, Jean,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I adore everything about you, too.”
“And I adore making love to you,” Jean said, reaching for her neck. He kissed her again, and the little gasp she did was enough to get him hard again. “Making love to you and then waking up next to you brings me more happiness than anyone before ever did. Mikasa, you’re my one and only.”
“And you are mine,” she said, grabbing his face between two hands and kissing him for a long time before letting go. “Hey, Jean?”
“Yeah?”
“Make love to me again.”
__________________
She had her hands between her legs while he fucked her from behind. After the living room, they’d taken a shower together, then he’d carried her to their room, where he’d licked her some more.
At some point, she’d managed to use her mouth to suck every ounce of pleasure out of him. But Jean’s stamina was unbelievable, and he’d soon been ready to go again. They were young in any case, and being parents had kept them too busy to have a proper go at lovemaking the past few months.
“Jean,” she moaned, hearing the steady slap of his body against hers as he pushed inside of her from behind.
Jean leaned forward, moving his hips in and out of her, then kissed her ear. “What is it, my princess?”
“The sun is coming out,” she said, pointing at the window. Indeed, there was a hint of orange in the horizon, and the birds were starting to sing outside. “You…”
“It had been a while since we fucked all night, right?” He teased, taking her earlobe in his mouth and sucking. Mikasa rubbed herself faster; she could feel when he was close to coming, she could hear it in his voice. “I love fucking you all night, princess. I love filling you everywhere.”
“You filled me…so good,” she said. He went quicker too, then put his hand on her nipple and squeezed. “Together, Jean,”
“Huh? What, baby?”
Mikasa gritted her teeth, he was groaning so hard nowhis thrust were so rough. “Let’s cum together,” she moaned, and Jean went quicker at her words. Mikasa moved her fingers faster against her clit. “Fill me again, fill me again,”
“I’ll fill you every time. I’ll fuck you good every time, princess. I promise you won’t regret staying here,” he promised. He was so good at talking filthy, much better than her, and his deep, pleasure filled voice was perfect.
Then, he buried one hand inside her hair to pull on it. He tilted her head back, and Jean kissed her long and deep, moaning into her mouth as they both climaxed.
They crumbled on the bed next to each other. While she’d made a little puddle in the living room, their bedroom sheets were downright soaked because of her. “I love you,” she whispered as she settled into his arms. “We shouldn’t drive to the beach today.”
“Want to do it some more?” He said, giving her a smirk that made her blush despite everything they’d done since last night.
“I mean because we didn’t sleep at all, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a gentle shove. Jean laughed and she settled onto his chest, closing her eyes to enjoy the sound of his beating heart.
“I love you, Mika,” he said.
“I love you too,” Mikasa looked up at him, suddenly feeling silly for her jealousy burst the previous day. “Hey, Jean?”
“Yes, darling?”
“We’re not going out for dinner with that girl.”
Jean’s chest went up and down in a deep chuckle. “I had no plans to do that, Mika,”
“And if she talks to you again…”
Jean tugged her chin upwards, but his smile wasn’t sarcastic, it wasn’t mocking. His smile, his eyes, his whole expression was nothing but love, and all that it did was make Mikasa fall even harder for him. “If she talks to me again, I’ll show her all the pictures I carry of you in my wallet, and I’ll tell her there is nobody more perfect.”
“Jean, not all of them,” she whispered, recalling one in particular he’d taken the last time his mother had looked after their baby.
“Oh no that’s just for me,” jean said, nuzzling her neck. “Just like you are, right?”
Mikasa nodded, letting him kiss her neck again. “Just yours, all of me,” she assured him. “And you are mine?”
“Body and soul, Ackerman,” he said, smiling against her neck. “All of me.”
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poetrusicperry · 3 years
Text
Running Towards Nothing
Chapter One
a/n: hello !! @noelliza and i fleshed out an idea about if todd came from out of state (specifically, somewhere in the southern united states) to attend welton, so i wrote it heh. i’m not sure how many parts this will be (if people like it enough for me to continue posting lol), but i have the first like... five written haha. so yes, todd is from the south (alabama) and i don’t know much about the south bc i'm from the west coast, but i tried haha. hope you guys like it !! xx
chapter summary: something in todd’s past is the reason for his family’s move, leading to a new neighborhood, a new school, a roommate he was never expecting, and an overall shift in his life.
pairing: todd anderson x neil perry
warnings: none (i don’t think there are any in this chapter, but if anyone spots something, let me know !)
word count: 2479
        If there was one thing Todd missed about home, it was the sky; the sun set differently over the rolling hills of Vermont than the grassy fields of Alabama. He was used to seeing all of the elongated, blue canvas sky that melted into bright shades of pink and orange along the horizon; there was nothing in the way of the creation, just a plain view of where the heavens met the earth. In the northeast, however, the sunset snagged on the seemingly-black pointed edges of trees and lush branches, interrupting the gradient leaving only soft blue and speckles of marigold.
        But he had experienced his last Alabama sunset two days ago, and there was no going back. Not for a really, really long time (if ever). After the events of the past few months, there was no way Todd could ever show his face again, even if he really wanted to. Now, Todd Anderson and his family were living in the suburbs of Vermont, where, as his parents hoped, the past would stay hidden and they could build a new façade for the one Todd had recently, though unintentionally, demolished.
        As Todd sat on the floor of his new, empty room, surrounded only by boxes and his bed (which didn’t have a box spring or frame yet), he gazed out of his window forlornly. Through the toothbrush-tipped trees that were jam packed along his new horizon, he could make out the silhouette of a church’s steeple. One that, no doubt, would be frequented by his mother and father while his brother, Jeffrey, was out of state at college, and Todd himself attended the prep school just a few blocks down the road. Out of all the cities in Vermont, Todd’s parents had picked the one with the lowest population and tourist pull, which meant not a lot of people inhabiting the city. However, on the flipside, there wasn’t a wide variety of schools to choose from. Back in Alabama, Todd had attended his local public high school, Nixon, and would have been an incoming senior there if certain... events hadn’t occurred. Instead, Todd was now forced to continue his education at what was deemed “the best all boys prep school in the United States” by his parents and surrounding boarding schools (no pressure).
        Todd’s mind wandered through the recent weeks, pulling apart everything that had happened like rotten cotton candy. This was his life now: a new state, a new town, a new school, brand new everything. And yet, Todd felt stuck between wanting to start over and aching to hold onto his old life. If those five seconds could have gone differently, he’d be preparing for his first day of senior year with all his friends at Nixon. But his friends would never speak to him again, and he’d never walk the halls of Nixon High School ever again. Todd wondered what he could possibly be holding onto? There was nothing in a place he considered home and nothing in a new place that would likely never be home. So much of his past, he wanted to leave behind, but he just… knew that he couldn’t.
        As he reached into the open box beside him, there was a knock on the door. When Todd didn’t answer, the door cracked open, revealing the familiar face of his older brother.
        “Hey, I was going to go on a drive around town, maybe see some of the cool hangout spots if you wanted to come. I know I’m leaving for school in a couple weeks, but might as well check out some places anyway?”
        Jeff always had a way of talking to Todd gently, never with any hints of condescension in his tone. After all, Jeff was the only person in the house who ever acknowledged Todd’s existence. And after everything that had happened, Todd was certain he was no closer to gaining support from his parents than a couple months prior; in fact, he’d been quite sure he was further from garnering any cent of respect, let alone support.
        “Oh, uh… right now?” Todd spoke, barely above a whisper. He knew he didn’t need to feel embarrassed or nervous around Jeff, but that’s just how things were for him now. Anything he said or did felt… wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
        “Yeah, I think Mom and Dad went to pick up some dinner, so I was just thinking that we could head out for a few minutes. Maybe get a little familiar with town and stuff,” Jeff smiled at Todd, his perfectly straight teeth somehow still gleaming in the darkening light of Todd’s room, “Come on, I know you probably don’t feel up to it, but it’d be better than sitting in here while it progressively gets darker,” Jeff attempted to joke, laughing slightly.
        Todd gave him a half smile, half grimace, “Alright. Think I need a jacket?”
        “Want to drive with the top down, so probably,” Jeff smiled, smacking the doorway and turning down the hallway, “Leaving in five!” he called down the hall as he went.
        While they rode leisurely around town, Todd kept his head mostly turned to the side, leaning his cheek on his arm and taking in all the things they drove past. Lots of houses on moderate pieces of land lined the streets; they were nothing like the spacious farms and open pastures of Alabama. Up until recently, Todd had always considered the south home. But truth be told, he wasn’t sure what home was anymore.
        “Oh, sweet, Todd, look! There’s an arcade!” Jeff patted Todd’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he cruised down the street. The big neon lights were hanging over a brick building spelling “GAMES & POOL.” It looked like the marquees Todd had seen of New York City in the magazines. He just nodded at his brother’s sentiment as they pulled up to the red light. Glancing up at the bright sign once more, his gaze was torn away when the door to the arcade opened, revealing five lanky boys spilling out onto the sidewalk.
        “I told you I was going to beat the high score and you punks didn’t believe me!” one with sandy hair said, walking backwards and facing his friends. His face was twisted into a mischievous grin and his voice ricocheted across the street as the boys seemed to be making their way to the movie theatre a few doors down.
        “Charlie, no one cares that you beat the high score,” the tallest one replied; Todd noticed he had a flattop haircut, which is something no one in Alabama would have ever had; Todd thought it looked neat. The flattop’s sentiment earned a chuckle from all the boys, but a particularly loud laugh from a tall, dark-haired boy standing toward the front of the group. He wore beige slacks and a tucked in red flannel with black and white hi-top Chuck Taylor’s. And Todd noticed his dimples were deep into his cheeks while he laughed. As the boys walked down the sidewalk to the theatre ticket vestibule, the light turned green and Jeff began to drive. As the car passed the group, the dark-haired boy looked up and locked eyes with Todd.
        “Neil, still five for Gidget?” the ginger one with glasses said. The dark-haired boy (who Todd could now assume was Neil) held Todd’s gaze for a couple more seconds before tearing his eyes away and nodding at his friend. Todd’s cheeks were ablaze as Jeff drove further away. Trying to not move his head, Todd simply looked back at the boys in the side mirror until they were simply blobbed figures standing under the light of the theatre.
        When Todd and Jeff arrived home, their parents’ car was in the driveway, and the light in the kitchen was on.
        “Hope you’re hungry,” Jeff turned to Todd as he switched the engine off. He just looked at Jeff blankly; his appetite had still not returned, so he didn’t feel hungry much anymore, “I know I am,” Jeff smiled, ruffling Todd’s hair and easing the tension between them. He nodded a little bit and opened the door, Jeff doing the same. As Jeff made his way up the steps, Todd trailed behind him, not wanting to be the first person his parents saw.
        “Jeffy, is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.
        “Yeah, Mom, we just went to check out the neighborhood a bit,” Jeff called, slowing his pace, falling into step with Todd and slinging his arm around his little brother’s shoulder.
        “Dinner’s on the table, dear,” she replied as the boys walked into the dining room.
        “Smells good, Ma,” Jeff smiled, taking his seat at the table after patting Todd’s shoulder. Todd sat down tentatively and stared at the spread in front of him. His parents had gotten KFC for the second night in a row, and Todd was about as excited as he was the first time (that being not at all).
        “I know we had it last night, but it really just reminds me of the food back home,” his mother said, pulling her napkin into her lap.
        “You boys eat up, now,” his father said, gesturing to the bucket of chicken and sides in front of the pair. Jeff grabbed his food, and took extra care to offer Todd all of the things he picked up for himself. While their parents busied themselves in a conversation about the pie their neighbors had dropped off, Jeff nudged Todd lightly,
        “Look, I know you’re not hungry, but have a biscuit at least, okay?” he muttered and held one out to his younger brother. Todd took it hesitantly, put it in the middle of his plate, and stared at it, “Come on, Todd. Please,” Jeff mumbled again.
        “What’s that, Jeffrey?” his father turned to him.
        “Oh, nothing, Pop, just telling Todd to have some dinner,” Jeff smiled small. Todd’s father looked at him with disgust.
        “Eat,” he grunted. At the timbre of his father’s voice, Todd flinched slightly and picked off a part of the biscuit to nibble on while the conversation turned to Jeff’s plans for the fall semester. Fading into the background (as usual), Todd tuned out the conversation and focused really hard on his white Chuck Taylor’s, getting a flash of the tall, dark-haired boy’s face in his mind. Neil. Shaking his head slightly, Todd adjusted his gaze to the plate in front of him and waited for another painful dinner to end.
        When the summer had wound down and the weeks in Vermont had become more familiar, Todd’s parents had busied themselves with getting Jeff ready for dorm move-in and paying little, if any, attention to Todd. Currently, Todd was up in his room, preparing for convocation the next day. Jeffrey had left the past Thursday, driving up on his own. He had told Todd to not take everything so seriously and to do the best he could (because he knew that Todd was capable of a lot of things). He also mentioned that he was just a call away if Todd ever needed anything (he wrote his telephone number onto a scrap of paper). Todd had searched the arcade and the theatre a couple times in the hopes of running into the group of boys he had seen on their second night in town, but to no avail.
        Sitting in front of the mirror, Todd analyzed himself. His hair had grown out kind of long, and his mother hadn’t taken him to get it cut, so he’d have to deal with that, but everything else looked normal. Things certainly didn’t feel normal, but he was used to the discomfort by now. The only thing he was truly worried about was his stupid accent. He’d spent the last few weeks hanging around diners and spots with Jeff, and hadn’t heard a single southern accent. He knew his drawl would just make him appear stupid to all these super educated kids, so he’d put a lot of effort into controlling it. He was actually doing okay at it, he just needed to make sure he didn’t slip up. Todd didn’t need any aspect of his personality or appearance to be called attention to. He got up from the floor and crawled into bed, dreading what the next day and year would bring.
        Convocation turtled by, two hours of sitting in a church pew and listening to some headmaster spout of statistics that Todd didn’t care about. As far as he was concerned, he wanted to finish his senior year and get the hell out of here; Todd had always wanted to go to California, but his parents told him it was a pipe dream (“After the stunt you pulled in Alabama, we won’t be funding your college anywhere!” his father had yelled).
        “Ah, Mr. Anderson, is it?” the headmaster questioned when it was Todd’s turn to be introduced after the ceremony.
        “U-uh, yes sir,” he mumbled.
        “Well, we don’t normally take public school transfers, but you will fit in well here. Any major problems you let me know,” he shook Todd’s hand rather harshly.
        “Thank you, sir,” he nodded and moved along.
        Feeling his chest start to tighten, Todd made his way out onto the grass where he sat down against a tree and waited for his parents. After an uncomfortable and awkward goodbye with them, he roamed the grounds a little bit, practicing his newly-fashioned accent quietly to himself. As he rounded a corner to the courtyard, he bumped shoulders with a boy, and turned to apologize, dead-set on making his southern accent unknown (or as unknown as it could be).
        “Ope- sorry about that,” the boy laughed nervously. When Todd looked up at him, it was the boy from outside the arcade all those weeks ago. Shit.
        “S-sorry,” Todd mumbled. The boy nodded a little bit.
        “It’s all good. I’m Neil Perry,” he smiled, holding out his hand, seemingly unaware or forgetting of the fact that they’d seen each other before.
        “Todd Anderson,” he manipulated his tongue to sit flatter in his mouth, so as not to let slip his Alabaman background. He had trouble looking into Neil’s eyes, but when he got a good look, he realized they were dark, dark brown and incredibly deep.
        “Oh, that’s you? I think that makes us roommates,” Neil said, patting Todd on the shoulder. Oh no, Todd thought, his cheeks flushing. Stop it, he thought to himself and cleared his throat.
        “Oh… cool,” Todd nodded a little bit and pursed his lips.
        “I gotta get going. See you soon!” he patted Todd’s shoulder again and took off in the direction he had been going when Todd bumped into him.
        Yep, Todd sighed. This is going to be a long year.
tagging some people (especially those of you who said i should post this heh): @queertoddanderson @babytoddanderson @cupiiid @justarandompjofan @charliedaltonofficial @pretentious-strikes @aedan-mills 
and a big thank you to @noelliza as always bc she’s the best and reads all my stuff before i even think about putting it anywhere on the internet lol <3
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arcane-apathy · 3 years
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Part 1 
Next
AN: Part 1 of 3 for this Male Naga X Female Reader. I’m hoping to get better at writing short stories, but it’ll take some practice. I hope y’all enjoy! 
Warning(s): N/A
 You didn’t know why you decided to leave home but your mind was already made up and the U-Haul was already packed. There was no going back now. You didn’t want to be a big city nurse anymore, and you also didn’t want to move back to your hometown. So, this year you decided to move to New Mexico, specifically Peralta. A town of a little over three thousand people. The eastern half of town right on the border of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation, and the Rio Grande River to the west. You could even see the Manzano Mountain Range in the distance. 
  The drive to Peralta was taxing, but unbelievably beautiful. No wonder why New Mexico is called The Land of Enchantment. You made it to your new home in the middle of the day, and the sun was high above you. Of course you decided to move in the middle of summer, the dry heat smacking you in the face as you got out of the rental truck. You shielded your eyes from the sun as you stared at your new home. 
  The property was near the end of a dirt road, about a city block away from the local cemetery. But you didn’t mind, in fact it made the house even cheaper.  You’d just have to remember to cleanse the house whenever you got a chance. The house was a simple one-story pueblo style house, the faux-adobe outside was an ivory color, and the windows were painted pear green. It lacked the wooden vigas, making it obvious that it wasn’t an actual pueblo home. The house was small, the yard was huge, it had a detached stainless-steel garage, and a dirt driveway. All surrounded by a chain link fence with a gate. 
  It didn’t take you long to unload the U-Haul, considering you sold most of your things before you moved. You lay your mattress on the bedroom floor and the majority of boxes stay in your living room. You look at the time on your phone, there was still two hours until the U-Haul’s scheduled return time. Un-packing wasn’t the first item on the agenda, some serious cleaning needed to be done before you thought about anything else. 
  Granted the house wasn’t in horrible shape, but it was obvious that it’s been a few months since anyone has lived in it. The air was stuffy, there was dust on everything, and there was dirt all over the floors. You search for your bag of cleaning supplies that you bought at a Wal-Mart in Albuquerque, well prepared to clean. With the house being so small, it didn’t take you long to clean, so you took your time admiring your new home. The house was made in the seventies, the Spanish-style linoleum tiles in the kitchen being the proof. Yet it didn’t look like it came out of a home magazine that your grandmother would've read. There were some obvious updates throughout the years. Thankfully central air was one of them. 
  You returned the U-Haul and the towing dolly on time, driving your car back home. You stopped at a Domino’s on the way home, not yet ready to try the local food. Unpacking was the only thing on your mind. And no surprise to you, it took all night. Packing wasn’t easy, because you had to take things from their place and sort them into boxes. Unpacking was another challenge, the amount of times you switched which cabinet your plates went in was frustrating. By two in the morning you had everything put away, there were sheets on your bed, and your eyelids were heavy.
                                                      ~~***~~
  It’s been a month since you’ve moved, and you’ve loved it more that you’d ever thought. Living in your one bedroom house was a dream compared to any other apartment you’ve had before. You’ve gotten over the linoleum in the kitchen, and you couldn’t even imagine the house without it. The yard was easy to maintain, considering it was primarily dirt. You didn’t see much of your neighbors but they were nice from what you could tell. And the quiet was refreshing. 
  You spent most of your days at work, a health center in the middle of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation. The work was tough, and didn’t pay much, but it was obvious that they needed you there. According to your co-workers everyone wanted to work in the big cities and that smaller health centers, especially ones for the native populations, were constantly understaffed. You became a licensed practical nurse because you wanted to help people, and working in an at risk community fulfilled that goal. 
  To say you were surprised when your co-worker invited you to her birthday party in Albuquerque was an understatement. Although you didn’t know her that well, you still went. You needed socialization outside of the workplace and the occasional video calls with your family back home. So, you put on your best outfit and did your best to look presentable. The night started off at a restaurant, the food was amazing, and the company was actually enjoyable. After dinner you all went to a bar, so far it was a typical birthday party for a bunch of girls in their twenties. 
  You stood against the wall, nursing a drink as everyone else in your group dance. Normally you weren’t such a party pooper, but these girls weren’t much of your crown. It was too early in the night to go home, and they all knew that you didn’t work tomorrow so you couldn’t use that excuse. Hence why you resorted to people watching. The bar was packed with humans and non-humans alike, all dancing with each other. There were already a few couples sharing face in the darker corners. 
  “You look bored,” a blunt voice shook you from your daze. You look to the side, noticing as a tall man slithered up to you. Not metaphorically. Your eyes instantly gravitated to his tail, the bulk of muscle trailing closely behind him as he moved. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the pattern of his scales. The base was beige and was decorated in an assortment of splotches all in varying shades of brown, and at the very end of it all was a black rattle. He laughs at your reaction, “have you never seen a Naga before?” 
  “Not up close, there weren’t that many back home,” you flush a little as you are caught staring. Which wasn’t a lie, you didn’t see many growing up, nor did you encounter a lot at work either. A surprising statistic you’ve learned since you moved is that New Mexico has the highest population of Naga in the United States, with Texas as a close second. You have seen a few as you wandered around Peralta and the neighboring towns, but you have yet to talk to them. 
  “Oh, you’re from out of town. How exciting,” he smiles and extends a hand, “Santiago Rosales.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. His smile grows and the rainbow lights from the dance floor reflect off his fangs. You couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man, tan skin, curly raven hair, a triangular face with a strong jawline, and golden serpentine eyes. You look back at the dance floor and notice one of your co-workers giving you a thumbs up. “So, not to sound cheesy… But why is a pretty chica like you, not out there?” 
  You flush a little at his definitely cheesy comment, “I’ve already done my socializing for the evening, but if I leave now I’ll never hear the end of it at work. What about you, why aren’t you out there?”
  He motions to his tail, “I’m in no mood to get stomped on.” 
  “Oh… I didn’t even think of that. Does it happen often?” 
  “It happened a lot when I was a kid, but I was kinda a wimpy kid too,”
  You raise a brow as you look at how snugly his button up fits to his arms and chest, “wimpy?” 
  “Hey I wasn’t always like this, I was a string bean growing up. It took years for this to happen,” he motions to himself proudly. You laugh and finish your drink, Santiago looks at the empty glass, “may I offer to buy you another drink?” 
  You contemplate it for a second then shake your head, “no thank you, I have to drive home tonight. And I don’t live in Albuquerque.” 
  “Is it too weird to ask where you live then?” 
  “Peralta,” you shrug.
  “Really? My mom lives in Peralta… Maybe I’ll see you around?” 
                                                       ~~***~~ 
  And you did, the first time you saw Santiago was at the grocery store. You were trying to figure out what brand of refried beans to buy when he came down the aisle, slithering alongside an older Naga woman. He didn’t acknowledge you, which made you question whether he recognized you at all. The second time you saw him was at the post office, and he immediately smiled when he saw you. Your heart couldn’t help to flutter at the sight of him. The third time was at the bank, both of you waiting in line at the tellers. 
  The fourth time was when everything changed. You were standing in the bathroom aisle at Target in Albuquerque, looking through the wide array of shower curtain options. You heard your name being called and you looked up, expecting to see someone from work, possibly even a regular patient. But, instead your eyes were graced with the sight of a familiar Naga in a taut shirt and a leather jacket, “oh, hi Santiago.” 
  “Hola, looking for a shower curtain I see,” he smiles as he sidles up beside you.  
  You fluster a little, realizing you were still wearing your baggy maroon scrubs. “Indeed I am, it’s been two months and my house still looks like no one lives in there.” 
  He looks you up and down, his eyes stopping at the embroidered patch above your breast, “you work at Isleta Health Center?” 
  Your brows knit in confusion and you look down at the patch, resisting the urge to face palm, “yes, yes I do. Sorry, I just got off my shift and I kinda forgot I was still wearing this monstrosity.” 
  “You don’t look bad at all if I’m being honest…” 
  Damn he was slick, “it’s not the worst, but I hate how plain it is. I sold all my fun scrubs when I moved, so I’m stuck with the standard issues until I buy more.” He nods and looks at the shower curtains in your hands curiously. “So, what are you here for?” 
  "Uhh… Honestly I don't even know anymore. They didn't have what I needed, so I just started to aimlessly slither around the store. And then I found you." 
  "Aimlessly wandering around Target can be dangerous," you chuckle. 
  "I haven't learned my lesson apparently," he gives you a lopsided smile, "last time it happened I came home with a pillow that had some motivational quote.” 
  “Yikes,” you laugh and put one of the curtains back onto it’s metal hook.  
  “Yikes indeed,” he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at the options before him. “So, do you have any style in mind.” 
  “Santiago, you don’t need to help me.” 
  “I fear if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck in the store until it closes,” he teases with a wink. 
  You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “alright fine. My house is pueblo style, built in the seventies. The bathroom was recently remodeled before they sold it, so the walls are plain, it has normal wood, and laminate tiles that look like travertine. It’s very boring.” 
  “So you need something to spice it up?”
  “Exactly,” you pick up a geometric patterned one, looking at the picture on the cardboard. 
  Santiago shakes his head, "nope", he takes it out of your hand and puts it back. You look at him dumbfounded by how brash he was. He puts another one in your hands, “this one looks like you.” 
  You look down at the curtains, it was a simple floral. But with the way the bright flowers were stylized like they were from an Alfredo Ramos Martinez painting. “This is cute.” 
  “You look like a floral person.” 
  “How does one look like a floral person, without being an actual nymph?” He shrugs and you simply roll your eyes, “you’re lucky I tolerate you.” 
  He winces, “just tolerate?” 
  “Well, I don’t know you that well…” 
  “Then let's get to know each other,” his posture straightens. “Why don’t we go out for a coffee someday, as a date?” You must’ve stared at him like he grew another head because he immediately fell back on his statement, “or not a date?” 
  “No… A date is fine.” 
  “Is it?” 
  “Definitely.” 
  “Then why are you still looking at me like that?” 
  Your face instantly turns a scarlet color, “I… It's been awhile since I’ve been on a date. So, the fact that you are asking me on a date, in a Target, is mind boggling.” 
  “Do you want me to ask you outside the Target?” 
  “That’s not the point,” you sigh, trying to steady your breathing. “So, a date?” 
  Santiago smirks, “give me your phone.” You scowl and he shrinks at your stern gaze, “por favor?” Reluctantly you unlock and hand him your phone, watching as he makes himself a contact. “Text me when you get home, I should have a fantastic plan by then.” 
  “No coffee?” 
  “Nope, you deserve more than a coffee.” You flush again as he smiles victoriously, “I’ll let you get back to shopping so you can get home at a decent hour. Talk to you soon, cariño.” You watch as he slithers out of the aisle with a wave over his shoulder. You can’t help but stare, looking at the end of the aisle then back at the curtains in your hand. For some reason, the bright flowers just felt right. So, you put the package into your basket and head off to find the next item on your list. And you couldn’t wait until you got home. 
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saint-eridell · 4 years
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A Silent Prayer (Midoriya Izuku/F!Reader)
I… honestly don't know how this happened. The words just kinda came out. I didn't start out intending to write a slow burn saga, but that's apparently what my brain decided to do with it. Might continue the series at some point, to be honest; this whole universe has its hooks into me.
Collab piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​'s Citrus Dome server collaboration. 15k, completed, proofread, no beta. Pairings: Dryad!Midoriya Izuku/Human!Reader, Human!Toshinori Yagi/Dryad!Midoriya Inko Prompt: Gods Content warnings: Background character death, non-con (very brief, not explicit)
Read on AO3
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Quick Guide (ctrl-F to jump)
Prologue
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
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Prologue
Your village's clearing, while spacious enough to afford room for a small population, is essentially cut off from the outside world by the dense verdant wall that circles it on all sides. One of two paths out leads toward a well-maintained temple where the locals (and rare traveler) leave offerings to the Fae that populate the forest, and one leads out to the nearest trading post… which lies a week's away ride on a speedy horse. This clearing of hand-built homes and ancient looking shops is the only thing you've known. Your studies as a temple attendant began young, before you could even comprehend what you were training to do, and have kept you attached to the village with zero chance of travel.
That has suited you just fine so far. From what the hunters talk about seeing in the forest… you'd rather stay alive than "sightsee".
The first thing you're taught in your village is to respect the forest. Even the youngest of your people know not to step in Fae circles, or follow strange sets of eyes in the dark, or listen to any voices that come trickling out of the treeline on quiet nights. The Fae could be immensely giving, but they're fickle creatures on a good day and absolutely dangerous at their worst. Contact with any roaming Fae, regardless of the type or how friendly it seems, has long been banned among your people. Your job as an attendant, despite a common misconception that you have direct contact with beasts and monsters, is to maintain the temple, greet travelers, and meditate among the many gardens built within the temple walls.
Worship is a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods.
But you never expected one to answer… much less three times.
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Part 1
The first time is after a terrible fire that razes half of the village during your first year of training. A roaming wyvern tears through the fields surrounding its back half in a fury, razing an entire cluster of homes and over half of the summer crops already suffering through a prolonged drought. The village finds itself in disarray amid the smoldering remains: one half wants to burn the temple in retaliation, seeing the wyvern as an omen that some Fae lord is on the warpath, while the other seeks to gather what remained of the crops as one final beseechment to whoever or whatever they'd angered.
Having just been initiated, your young mind goes directly to one of your first lessons: true offerings are of the heart. In your barely school age mind, that means offering something that means a lot to you. After some consideration you narrow it down - your favorite doll, a gift from a mother you never had the chance to know - and take it to the temple. You find a quiet altar to lay the doll down upon, and as soon as you find your knees to begin praying before it you catch sight of a boy hovering behind the marble pedestal.
His head is wrapped in emerald linen, but it rounds off enough to suggest there's densely packed hair underneath. A single curl peeks out at the center of his forehead, somehow even deeper than the rich dyed fabric over it, its point resting between huge green eyes that seem to peer right down to your very soul. It would be eerie if he wasn't smiling at you with a gap where one tooth should be, a bright beam of sunshine in an otherwise rather gloomy marble-lined room.
"Is that a doll?" he asks, and his voice chirps with the same excitement of the first few birds that poke out of the melting winter snow. You nod, frozen with trained hesitation that wars with your naive curiosity - he doesn't look familiar, nor does he look like the child of anyone who had recently come through the village. But he doesn't look dangerous to you. He's barely as tall as you, and he smiles too nice to be a threat… right? 
You open your mouth to call for your matron but the boy holds both hands up suddenly, his eyes somehow widening even further with a bolt of fear. "Wait," he whispers. "I'm not supposed to be here. I heard people praying and snuck away from my mother." He tilts his head. "Did you sneak away from your mom, too?"
You shake your head in response. "I live here," you explain quietly, matching his hushed tone. "I'll work in the temple one day. I came here to offer my doll so our fields will come back."
The boy's face splits into a grin. "Does that mean I'll get to see you again?"
You aren't given time to answer: a sharp voice echoes into the room from somewhere beyond the open door, growing louder by the second as someone approaches. You turn your head to listen until a quiet shuffling brings your attention back to the boy, who's moved around the altar and taken the doll in one hand. He quickly tugs off the linen wrap covering his head and thrusts it toward you. You struggle to grasp it, shocked by a pair of tiny antler nubs that poke through the curls on the top of the boy’s head... or Fae’s rather. There’s no mistaking the point of his upper ears. "Here," he whispers urgently. "It's my favorite, so be careful with it. Wrap it around some ashes from your burned crops and bury it in the middle of the field." He waves as he steps back with another one of those beaming smiles, your doll clutched tight to his chest. "I promise I'll keep your doll safe. Maybe we can play next time!"
You blink, and as quick as he appeared he's gone. Matron Elspeth, a short and round woman with more than enough years in the temple to justify her limited patience (and the woman in charge of your temple training), appears behind you the second he’s gone. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she snaps as she grabs you by the upper arm and hauls you toward the door. “We’re convening the-
You dig your heels into the floor. “Wait!” you exclaim with all the assertiveness your tiny voice can muster. “I have something!”
The matron stops to glare down at you. You hold up the linen like it’s a prized tapestry. “A boy appeared in here and gave this to me. I brought my doll as an offering and he gave this to me.”
The matron’s brows knit deep between her eyes. “And you took it?”
You nod eagerly, but you aren’t prepared to see such a terrifying old woman blanch like she just witnessed a murder. She stops you both in the hallway, all sense of urgency abandoned, a wrinkled hand held to the wall as she breathes out a long, ragged sigh. “Oh, child,” she murmurs. “I don’t think you realize what you’ve just done.” She gives you a smile that’s softer than anything you’ve ever seen from her, and it’s disarming enough to have you stunned silent. Isn’t she supposed to be rapping you across the knuckles with her willow switch? “He was Fae, wasn’t he?”
You nod slowly, your excitement slowly twisting into pangs of dread. “I didn’t give him my name,” you burst out after a sudden realization - of course she’s worried, she thinks you just signed yourself away to the forest. What was the first thing she’d taught you? You wave your hands in front of you defenselessly, the scarf flapping back and forth. “I only said the doll was my favorite, and that I’d brought it as an offering. He said this headscarf was his favorite and that I should bury it in the field wrapped around some ashes from the crops and -”
“Eeeeeeasy,” Elspeth chides gently. She lowers herself to a knee to put herself on eye level with you, both hands wrapped around your shoulders. “You did the right thing. I wouldn’t have expected someone so small to learn our ways as quickly as you have.” She holds her hand out for the scarf and you hand it over. She turns it over gently, running her fingers over the seams with a pensive hum. “And you say he told you to bury it?”
“In the field, wrapped around ashes from the burned crops."
“And you absolutely did not give him your name?”
You shake your head fervently. “He didn’t even ask for it.”
Elspeth’s frown deepens. “Curious.” She rises slowly to her feet with a wince as both knees audibly crack under her shifting weight. You grab her arm to help her stay upright as she rests a hand on the wall once again with a low groan. “I’m getting too old for this,” she grouses. “You need to hurry up and grow already so I can hand off the robes.” Her wrinkled hand takes one of yours as she leads the way toward the temple’s main hall. “Tell me more about the boy.”
You go through everything you can remember - same height, pale freckled skin, lots of green curls, big eyes… “Oh, and horns,” you add on.
Elspeth stops you both at the end of the last hall. Several groups of people in various temple garb hover in the large foyer beyond, but your matron turns your back to them with both hands on your shoulders. She bends low at the waist to stare you down from only a few inches away. “Horns?” she hisses.
You nod, confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. “Tiny ones,” you reply. “Like when the young bucks grow their first set at the beginning of summer. I didn’t see them or his ears until after he gave me his scarf.”
Elspeth goes quiet for several seconds, her gaze averted to the throng behind you, and just as you open your mouth to question if she’s okay she’s steering you around and through the crowd with a purpose. “We need to speak to the temple Ascendant,” she urges quietly. “This is beyond both of us now, little one.”
---
Part 2
You hadn’t been approached by just any run-of-the-mill forest creature. If you really had experienced the entire moment (which the linen basically proved without a shadow of a doubt despite your own dumbfounded disbelief), you’d come across a young dryad. Or rather, he’d found you, which is an incredible occurrence in itself: dryads are known for being among the most reclusive of Fae, preferring to live in their heavily altered pockets of the forest where only their kind can survive. According to the ancient lore they’re protectors of a vast plane beyond the one humans live in, a vanguard of Fae hidden among life-providing vegetation and deceptively thick forest floor in wait for someone or something to come along and threaten their territory. The tomes in the temple library are filled with tales from “survivors” of attacks by wandering dryads, all telling of razor sharp teeth and sickly green skin and a heathenly worship of the old gods that on its own warrants avoiding them at all costs.
But in the whirlwind following your encounter with the young Fae, something becomes glaringly obvious: no one wants to talk about who had provided the linen that saved them all, despite it successfully bringing back their fields during a single earth-shaking rainstorm and assuring a solid harvest that would more than provide through the winter. All the villagers flock to the temple with offerings by the basket, but no one wants to acknowledge who had actually saved them. That reality sticks with you like a sharp thorn, as does the dryad boy’s hauntingly sweet voice as you grow older within the temple walls, your studies growing more intense by the year. By the time you reach adulthood, you’re actively involved with just about every aspect of temple life. You’ve grown popular among your fellow attendants and the temple-goers alike, even the ones who seem reluctant to be there at all. Your easy-going demeanor and disarming smile is able to diffuse even the staunchest of cynicism. You have, for all intents, and purposes, become the shining example of everything Matron Elspeth raised you to be. Nothing in this world makes you prouder than knowing you're on the way to earning her robes… and maybe, at some time in the future, the temple Ascendant's.
You remain faithful to your doctrine, but in the dead of night every full moon you pray that he’ll come back. You’ve had years to think about it: if you give him a “given” name, he’ll have to use that. It’s not yours, so he won’t own you. Dryads are attracted to beehives, presumably for the same reason pixies are attracted to berry bushes (an almost impulsive sweet tooth) so you’re ready with a clump of the temple’s finest honeycomb every time the moon reaches its largest point.
But despite your increasingly saddened prayers and offers over the years, no sign of him or any other dryads appear. There are rumors of the occasional peculiar looking traveler with big green eyes, but your temple work prevents you from wandering into the village unless it’s on a designated supply pickup day. Elspeth tells you to forget him and focus on your studies every time she catches you quietly moping: “We can’t have our future Ascendant being wooed away by some doe-eyed boy, regardless of if he’s human or not.”
On the evening after your confirmation and the following party, once you’ve returned from the village and gathered up your usual prayer supplies, you make your way to your favorite altar in the temple as the moon finds its highest point in the sky above. The room’s roof has been removed to give a full view of the sky for astral worship, but you prefer it for the way it allows moonlight to fill the center with a skirt of fading dark that swallows the edges of the room. It’s easier to focus here, to lay yourself bare before whatever force that lays beyond the clearing’s edge and let it speak through the beams of light emanating from above.
Elspeth disapproves of your “fixation”, but doesn't argue back when you request privacy for the rest of the evening. Your birthday this present is in the form of your matron keeping all wandering staff away from your prayer room, and that seems perfectly fair to you. You’ve already made plans to repay her empathy with a few of her favorite lemon pastries.
You lay out the contents of the basket hanging from your arm across the marble altar’s polished surface: green and gold candles, several lengths of high quality gold pendant chain, a large bowl of fresh, sticky honeycomb and an ornate goblet full of a rare winterberry mead you were given by the lead hunter’s son (“For the day you get free of that prison and decide to marry”, he’d boasted... his mistake, you’re keeping the mead and he can choke on the cork).
In the center goes a hand-sized velvet pillow upon which you set an emerald big enough to fill your palm. It had taken three years to save up enough for it, but in your eyes it’s the best thing you’ve ever bought. The moonlight dancing off the lines of the gem’s depths flicker and dance exactly like the Fae’s eyes had so many years ago. You pause to take in the sight, transfixed by the shifting planes that white themselves out before immediately shifting to deep green and then to inky black when you tilt your head.
A slight breeze rattling through the room snaps you from your reverie. You glance upward where the moon hangs directly overhead, a wide white circle set deep into an array of scattered stars and inky skyspace beyond. A vivid memory of pale skin dotted with freckles flashes across your mind’s eye and you have to force yourself to redirect to the present, shaking your head hard as the breeze fades away. “Focus,” you murmur to yourself. You don’t have long before the moon will move away from the center of the open roof.
Once the candles are lit, several cones of musky incense set into miniature cauldrons come next, wisps of pungent smoke permeating every dark corner of the room within seconds. You kneel before the altar once everything is in place with your plain white robes folding neatly under you. As you take your first deep breath, the incense fills your nose and drowns out anything beyond it; a hazy blanket hovers thick and heavy in your sinuses, even after you exhale.
This is an easy process for you. You've long mastered how to find your own meditative headspace through years of disciplined practice. You let the chirping of bugs beyond the temple echo around your ears, your breathing slow and light. You tilt your closed eyes up toward where you can vaguely tell the glow of the moon is strongest. "I have no crisis," you say in your head. "I seek no power, no glory, no riches. I only wish to see my friend again." A deep sense of peace radiates down to your bones as you let out a slow breath. The entire room comes to a standstill, even the wind seemingly reverent of your descent toward the lowest floor of your headspace. If you go any further, you feel like you could slip right through the floor.
"We're friends, eh?"
Your eyes fly open as a shriek tears through you, every semblance of calm shattered. You kick yourself backward and the cushion you'd been kneeling on flying forward to bounce off the ornate carving set into the front of the pedestal. You skitter in the opposite direction, prepared to take off running down the hall and find the first guard you come across, when you stop dead with your hands planted to the cold marble floor.
It's him.
The dryad boy is standing in the same spot he'd appeared in last time, smiling at you with that same beaming grin. Or… it looks like him, at least. He's taller now, but he still looks to be around your height, maybe just an inch or so taller. It's obvious he's been up to something strenuous: his tunic sleeves cut off around defined upper arms, where you can spot an array of thin scars set into his pale, freckled skin. He's dressed in emerald traveler garb, a linen wrap identical to the one he'd given wrapped loosely around his neck, and as you look further up you choke on a gasp.
You hadn't been hallucinating all those years ago. The tiny antler nubs he'd been sporting before have grown fivefold and now branch over his head in tall, proud spikes that circle his hair like a jagged halo. He seems to catch what your eyes lock onto and he dips his head, a scarred hand reaching to clutch at the fabric draped around his neck like he wants to throw it up over his head. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, and you're immediately floored by how achingly familiar the lilt of his voice is. You've heard it in your dreams enough to know it's him. "I didn't mean to scare you that bad."
You push yourself up to your feet with an indignant huff. "Scare me that bad?" you grumble back as you dust yourself off and right your robes.
He laughs again, light as air. Your anger slips away at the sound despite your best attempt to hold onto it. You're not some shrinking violet, dammit. "I had to take the opportunity when it presented itself," he replies through a fond smile. "Couldn't help myself."
You huff your disapproval, which gets you another chuckle. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he says as he takes a step forward with his hands raised in a show of surrender. "No more scares, I promise." He fixes you with another beaming smile. "Happy birthday. I'm here now."
Your heart flips sideways into your ribs. He'd really heard you. But if he could hear you tonight…
"Why didn't you come any other time I prayed?" you ask before you can consider the implications of your query. You slap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry," you say quickly from behind your palm. "I don't mean to say I expected you to listen or appear, I just…"
The dryad fixes you with a concerned frown. "You just what?" he asks back without a trace of anger, which catches you off guard. "I'm not gonna cut your tongue out or anything. You didn't offend me."
You let out your held breath in one hard burst. Thank every god in existence. You pause, waiting to make sure he really isn't angry and just playing head games, then proceed with only a tiny tremble: "I just hoped you would."
Something akin to pain dances across his face and you immediately regret your admission for reasons you can't quite figure out. "I'm sorry," you exclaim again, but he holds up a finger before you can try to babble through a reason why.
"It's not easy for my kind to survive here," he says with a solemnity that draws the entire room to a standstill. "The air is too dry for ones who haven't acclimated to it. I'll admit, the first time I tried I got incredibly sick upon returning home." His gaze flicks to the span of marble between your feet. "But I've been practicing. I should be able to stay a few hours now." He finds your eye again and the sincerity behind them smashes into you like a cannonball. How could anyone ever say his kind are hideous? Is it the antlers? 
"If you'll have me, that is."
Oh gods above, below, and in gran's cookbooks. "Of course," you breathe back without hesitation.
His smile returns, wide and genuine, bright enough to narrow the room to just him alone. "I was hoping you would say that." He bows politely, his traveler's cloak brushing the floor as it sweeps back. "I'm sorry, I didn't have a chance to introduce myself before. May I have your name?"
A caustic jolt rushes up the length of your spine. Every hair on your body raises at the root as you cut a glare in his direction. Oh no no no, you didn't go through an entire childhood of Matron Elspeth's lectures to fall for his ruses that easily, no matter how hard he makes your stomach flutter. "No you may not," you say back with practiced ease. He sits up abruptly to give you another wounded look, but you're too on guard for it to work. "I'm sorry." You really aren't.
He huffs a laugh. "Fair play. I should have known better. May I have a name to address you by?"
You've trained for this your entire life. In no way is he going to get you. "No you may not," you say again. "But I was born under a sparrow's first nest." A meaningless fact that would at least lead him toward something you'll answer to without naming you directly. Elspeth is going to be so proud.
He hums, seemingly picking up your subtle lead. "Sparrow, then," he confirms. "It suits you."
You clear your throat as the collar of your robe shifts against your reddening neck. You can't hold eye contact and keep your flush contained so you opt for the former while your hands clasp respectfully behind your back. You're an anointed temple servant. You won't be reduced to a pile of girlish mush in your own temple. "Thank you," you reply with a polite bow. "And is there a known name I may refer to you by?"
"Deku," he chirps back. "You could have just asked. I'm not as picky with my known name as you humans seem to be."
You straighten up with a placid smile. "Can you blame me?"
Deku shrugs. "I mean, a little," he replies with an honesty that almost knocks you backward again. "I've seen the records humans keep on us. The way your "beastmasters" talk makes us sound like feral crypt monsters." 
You catch the bitterness in his tone and squirm on the spot. You hadn't meant any insult. "We've had a lot of people killed by dryads over the years," you reply as gently as you can. "And even more that have disappeared around the same time one was seen. The people here are just fearful."
"Fear doesn't excuse ignorance." His jaw flexes and your frame draws tight with tension. He takes a slow breath as he pauses, and his anger visibly recedes. "But you haven't taken off running yet, so I guess it's safe to assume you're not as ignorant as the others."
Your voice drops to a murmur when you respond. "I remember what you did for us. We would have starved the winter after that fire if you hadn't brought our crops back."
"Thank my dad for that. It was his idea. He couldn't make the trip himself, so he sent my mom and I with instructions."
The pieces click into place with a weight that knocks the wind from your lungs. Deku watches you ponder as he steps around the altar and perches on its edge. "You didn't just save us. You risked your life to do it. But… why?"
"Because you asked me to-" He plucks the goblet and gives it an appreciative sniff. "-And you brought a worthy offering to go with it." He sips the mulled wine with a deep groan of approval. At least the idiot who'd been hitting on you throughout the entire celebration has good taste in booze. "Winterberries?" You nod, and he takes a longer sip before offering you the goblet. You take it with pride as he traces his thumb over his lower lip to catch a stray drop (don't stare don't stare don't stare don't stare). "Gods, this is fantastic. I hope your meadery has put in offerings, because they deserve whatever they were asking for."
You go to take a sip as he continues his praise, but another bolt of anxiety keeps you from raising the cup all the way to your lips. This isn't a directly outlawed interaction (you can't recall a rule that says you're not allowed to share an offering, as far as you can remember); however, something still feels… ominous about accepting such an offer. Or maybe you're just being paranoid. The lore books also said dryads instinctively kill humans on sight.
His features darken at your hesitation. "I can guarantee that I've already got a tolerance if you just tried to slip me something," he spits out with a mix of anger and raw hurt. The venom in his tone paralyzes you with fear and for a long moment all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes. You swallow around your dry tongue as you struggle to formulate a disarming response.
"It's not like that," you finally say back with the goblet held in both shaky hands. You raise it for a prolonged sip and make a display of showing that you actually took a drink, which seems to assuage his anxiety as much as it does yours, the mead warming your throat and chest as it settles in a warm ball somewhere deep in your core. The Hammerbar meadery doesn't mess around with the efficiency of their products, apparently. "See? If there's something in it now you'll know."
Deku shakes his head. "Then let's hope it's just mead. I'm sorry. I don't think you'd do that." He turns away to pick at the honeycomb and pops a corner into his mouth, which is received with another appreciative noise from deep in his chest.
The conversation is light and easy from the very beginning. He's young for his kind with double your lifespan ahead of him, maybe longer if he "ascends" (a term that has you both laughing in solidarity as you commiserate on your respective mentors). After a good hour of chatting a silence finally lapses between you, the buzz of cicadas filling the space as Deku picks up the last chunk of honeycomb. You sit at the altar's base, just within touching range of the leg he has dangling over the edge of the pedestal, his eerie green eyes trained on you with the sharpness of a royal blade.
He's ethereal in close range. The air around him carries a drift of something wild and feral, like an inaudible drumbeat that thumps in time with your heart.
"Do I make you nervous?" 
That feels like a loaded question if you've ever heard one. He seems to pick up on your hesitation once again and tilts his head, his lips parted slightly around a faint smile that makes your heart skip a beat. "No," you reply, but it's a hollow projection. Deku raises a brow, a clear sign he caught your lie.
"Uh… maybe a little. You said it yourself, human understanding of your kind is apparently woefully inaccurate." Which bothers you a lot. You're one of the people responsible for interpreting every tome in the archive. How much else do humans have wrong?
Deku nods. "I know it's not very helpful, but we don't hate humans. The elders pity your lack of connection to wild magic, but that's a sentiment that's fading with the younger generations."
"And what do you think of us?" 
The Fae pauses, his head tilted askew as he ponders your question. You have the urge to take it back before he replies suddenly, his teeth flashing in a grin that makes your stomach flip and promptly fall into your feet:
"I don't care about other humans. I care about you."
You swallow hard. You're completely unprepared for the weight of his tone. It's all you can do to remember to breathe normally as panic and excitement go to all-out war. You're vaguely aware that you've been warned about this: Fae rely on glamour magic to conceal their true selves while among humans. The closer you are to one and the longer you spend there, the more likely you are to fall for it. This isn't him, you say to yourself in a firm tone. You're seeing a spell. And yet you remain rooted to the spot amid the molasses-thick silence, his emerald eyes transfixed on you like he's trying to bore himself right down to your soul. Logic is no longer enough to make yourself move, to speak, to do anything but watch him with deep fascination. Part of you doesn't want to move at all, and you're vaguely aware that your lack of fear should probably be some kind of warning sign.
He suddenly pushes himself off the altar and lands on his feet, cat-like and eerily graceful, his hand extended to help you up as well. You take it and are immediately shocked by how rough his palm is under your fingers. He doesn't look old enough to have gone through years of hard labor, but his hands tell a completely different story. You frown at your palms where they're flattened together, his weathered fingers draped gently around the side of your hand. He radiates heat like a stone dock in summer. Even with a foot or two between you, you have to wrestle down the urge to step closer and draw yourself into the warmth that surrounds him.
He leans far enough to get your attention and flashes you another dazzling smile (you're not insane, he can't feel even warmer now how is that even possible). "I have a present for you," he chirps. A hand disappears into his satchel and reappears a moment later with a long piece of rich emerald silk. You can't help but beam until your cheeks ache: the delicate gold embroidery along its edges is identical to what is on the linen scarf you've held onto for all these years. The delicate silk threads are woven into a river of shiny deep green that pools around your fingers in feather-light ripples. It's clearly worth more than anything you've ever owned and everything you currently own combined, adding an extra level of surreal that has your head slightly spinning.
"I embroidered it myself," he says, pride radiating through his words. He holds it up with an encouraging nod toward you. "May I?"
It takes your brain a few seconds to catch up with what's happening, but when it does you nod slowly. He closes the gap between you in one slow step and oh, you aren't ready for the scent of earth and pine that radiates from him and the crackle of something intangible that hits you like a mallet once you're nearly standing chest to chest.
The scarf is draped over your shoulders in a single flourish. He secures it in an ornate knot at your throat, his knuckles dragging little brushes of electricity across your skin as you do your best to stay still. Gods, whatever glamour he's using is powerful because he's absolutely breathtaking this close. The freckles you remember from so many years ago are still there, softened by the slight tan of his cheeks but still a pronounced constellation under his soft eyes as he smiles down at you with a mind-nymbing warmth.
"Green is your color," he murmurs close enough for you to feel his breath ghosting across your throat. Your heart flies upward and, on a whim you can't wrestle down, you reach for his hand once again to deftly slide your fingers between his. Deku jumps, clearly startled, but he makes no move to pull away or retreat. In fact, he gives your hand a squeeze in return that makes every hair on your body stand on its end. He draws even closer, pressing out every bit of air between you. Your interwoven hands are guided to between your chests, the breeze and ambient noise from outside coming to a dead standstill.
"I never forgot you," he rumbles, eyes half-lidded from the close proximity. "Not for a second."
"I dreamed about you," you whisper back, and the last few inches between you are gone in an instant. You draw in synchronized inhales as a surprisingly strong set of arms wraps around your back. Your own thread around his waist to clutch at the Fae and keep him pressed close with a sudden flash of desperation. He seems to be of the same mind: he kisses you with a ferocity you've never known, demanding and insistent enough that your lungs' cries for oxygen go willfully ignored. When you finally rip apart it's with another unified inhale and a wonble as the world spins on its ear. You can feel yourself grinning despite the shock still numbing out your brain. 
A Fae kissed you… and you kissed him back without hesitation. There's something unsaid in the room now and it hangs heavy in his stare, which has once again fixated upon you with trickles of gold dancing along the edges of deep green. You quietly gasp. You've never seen feral magic this close. Shouldn't you be afraid by now?
"Come with me," he breathes out of nowhere. Your knees just about give out from shock. What?
"I'm serious." He holds both your hands under his chin. "I can give you things you don't even know exist. Anything you want, I'll make it happen."
You gape back. It's the sort of dramatic offer you read about in children's books, but never in a thousand years did you think you'd really be offered something like this. "Deku…"
"I know it's a lot," he blurts out. "You've spent your whole life here and I would never want to separate you from the world you know, but if I can find you in the same spot twice I'm sure we can find a way to go back and forth -" 
Something in you decided the second he asked. There's no question what your heart wants. You press in again while he's rambling to cut him off with another firm kiss. Deku grunts into it as he's forcibly quieted before a hand gently cradles the back of your head.
You pull away with less ferocity this time and hover in his space, hazy with giddiness. "I didn't say no," you whisper, unable to bring yourself to speak any louder. "But there are things that need to be done in the meantime. I have duties here, Deku."
"We can figure out how to do both," he replies with rapidly growing excitement. The thin gold veins around his irises have begun to overtake the emerald. Your heart thunders as his excitement edges on feral. "Please just consider it. If you want, I can come back this same time next year and we can figure it out from there."
A year seems long enough to your addled brain. "Sure," you wheeze. "One year from tonight."
"One year." Deku nods furtively, but as he lets go of you it's obvious you're not the only one who hates having to do it. He looks to the floor, then to the darkest corner of the room where he'd appeared, then back to you with a smile too heavy for the ones you're used to. "I'll be watching over you. The embroidery of that scarf is kind of powerful, so I'd be careful wearing it around anyone or anything that might pull it."
You look to the fabric tied around your neck and your frown deepens. "What's that supposed to -"
Too late. By the time you look up again he's gone, and the altar in front of you is empty.
---
Part 3
You hold his promise close to your heart and don't breathe a single word of it to anyone, even your mentor. Elspeth would have an absolute fit if she figured out you're planning on not only leaving the temple, but running off with a dryad of all things. And besides that, she doesn't deserve the disrespect of knowing all her years of effort might go to waste. You can't bring yourself to face that very real chance just yet.
You stick to your studies and daily duties as your matron's hearth declines through the year, and nearly a year to the day since Deku's last visit the inevitable comes. Matron Elspeth passes in her sleep with you at her side, holding her hand while humming her favorite hymns until you see her chest rise and fall for the last time. She lived to a blessedly old age, but that doesn't help the fierce tear of grief that rips you open when she's finally gone. Elspeth was essentially your mother along with being your mentor.
And beyond that, if it hadn't been for her, you would have never met Deku.
You head up the organization of her final ceremonies, as is your place. Her pyre is constructed along the edge of the clearing's small lake, a neatly organized stack of wood and highly flammable fabric from the temple with a gap in the middle for her remains. You make sure to include clippings from her favorite lavender box as a final personal farewell.
The pyre is set ablaze with your own torch. This is how it has to be. It's how she sent her mentor off, and it will be how your mentor sends you off as well. You can only hope you've given her the honor she deserves, every decision you've made considered.
You make your way back to the temple alone at sunset while the other attendants remain behind. You need time to think. You've spent every quiet moment that day crying alone. If you don't get a second of true isolation you're going to break in front of half the temple. Elspeth wouldn't like that. You're stronger than your grief, at least for the moment, so you make a beeline for your preferred prayer room and let your feet move in that direction on autopilot, emerald scarf drawn up around your cheeks. You hold it close and will yourself to remain calm until there's a door between you and the rest of the world.
You're running by the time you throw yourself into the altar room and shove the door closed behind you. It lands in its frame with a thunderous BANG that muffles the broken sob that cracks from between the hands you have clutched over your face, along with the shuffling of a second person in the room that had gone unnoticed while you were trying to escape everyone else. A boot heel slides along the marble floor and you whirl around, eyes wide as you peer through the strands of summer dusk that pour through the room's open roof. Your heart flies into your throat with a burst of excitement. "Deku?" you call out, shaking with the urge to throw yourself toward the person as he emerges from the darkest shadowed corner.
But it's not Deku. Elation flips to horror as the lead hunter's son appears with a lecherous grin. He's still a good ten feet away, but you can smell strong booze radiating odd him in nauseating waves. "Why are you here?" you demand. "Only temple attendants are allowed in the prayer spaces alone. You need to leave."
"Do I?" he asks back derisively. Ice floods your veins with his first step. You instinctively shuffle back toward the door. "Because I'm pretty sure I can do what I want. Your temple wouldn't have food without me."
"Without your father," you clarify in a sharp tone. All manners have already been abandoned: this is not the day, and you are not the attendant to bother. You don't want to deal with calling guards or causing a cacophony. You just want to be left alone with your grief.
Your comment makes him clench his jaw. "Without." He takes another heavy step forward, and as he draws closer it becomes apparent how much of a size advantage he has. "Me." He takes another heavy step as your bones ice over. You want to take off, but you're terrified that any sudden movement will just propel him toward you faster, and you're not strong enough to shove the heavy stone door open without a few seconds of effort.
"You're drunk," you point out in hopes of derailing his train of thought. You can feel your pulse thumping hard and fast in your throat. "Go home and sleep it off. I won't tell anyone you were here."
"You think I give a shit f'anyone knows I was here?" he slurs back with increasing volume. "You fuckin' demon worshippers are all th'same, so far up your own ass you wouldn't know a good offer if it kissed you right on th'mouth."
A realization hits you like a brick. "Is this about what happened at my birthday last year?" you ask, using his off-kilter focus to your advantage as you slowly begin to step backward toward the door. "You pushed yourself onto me and wouldn't let me go until I kissed your cheek, then you threatened to drop me off the roof if I didn't accept your marriage proposal on the spot. Do you…" You cut yourself off. Of course he doesn't remember. He'd been just as off his head back then as he is now.
"I was only joking!" he retorts. "Why would I drop m'future wife off a roof? Thasstupid. Y're nuts for thinking I'd actually go through with it."
You successfully baby-step your way to within reach of the carved inlet that serves as the door handle. Just keep him rambling. You can hit him with the door before you take off. "And you're nuts for thinking anyone would immediately accept a marriage offer from someone who reeks like the bottom of an ale barrel."
You know the second you shoot off your mouth that it wasn't a good move. He tenses on the spot, both hands drawn into club-like fists at either side, his stony features pinched with disgust.
"You sayin' you're too good for me, bitch?"
He rushes forward, too fast for you to get the door more than a crack open before he throws a massive shoulder against it to slam it shut once more. You scream as he grabs the front of your robes, praying it echoes down the hall with your heels dug against the floor in a fruitless effort to prevent him from bodily dragging you toward the empty altar. He's far too strong to break away from. Your nails digging into his wrists seems to not even register, even when blood wells under them. "Let go," you plead, wide eyed fixed on the pedestal as he drags you toward it clawing and kicking the whole way.
Nothing seems to faze him. He forces your upper half over the marble pedestal with enough force to knock the wind out of your lungs. You wheeze under the weight of a forearm that presses hard into your upper back, reinforced by extra weight that's too heavy to roll out from under. You struggle the entire time, unwilling to stop, with everything in you that isn't trying to escape screaming toward the Aether for someone, something, anything to see what's going on and intervene. You've spent your whole life serving this temple… why would the Fae abandon you now?
As you flail, a small brown sparrow lands on the edge of the open roof and peers down directly at you two. It chirps once, clear as a bell, and the sound hits something deep and instinctive in your chest.
You aren't given enough time to ponder. He grabs your scarf from behind without warning and the knot instantly digs into your windpipe as he yanks the garment back in an attempt to rip it off of you. You sputter and flail your hands to signal for him to let go, to warn him of the danger that lingers in your head with Deku's last warning, but it's not enough.
You hear a piece of embroidery thread snap somewhere in his closed fist. A gust of humid air blasts across you and the weight above you disappears immediately, followed by a nauseating crunch of bones breaking amid the shatter of cracked marble. You wail in fear, clutching to the warmth that had drifted through you with both arms over your head as you sob into the marble. You can't bring yourself to move yet.
Where are you? You said you'd be watching out for me…
You finally force yourself upright once you begin to lose circulation in your arms. You wipe your face, sniffling quietly as you turn. You nearly collapse as a petrified shriek rips itself out of your chest: the hunter had been thrown back against the marble wall next to the door with enough force to crater it inward. His unmoving frame is slumped over in the center amid a splash of red that drips heavily off the jagged edges around him.
It isn't the wall that grabs your attention, though: his tunic has been ripped with several round puncture wounds arranged in a rough circle, the apparent source of the blood pooling at his sides. You tremble from head to toe despite the summer breeze coursing through the room. The longer you stare at the hunter's chest wounds and the way they're arranged, the more they begin to look like… 
"Antler wounds."
You smack a hand over your mouth like you'd just hexed someone. He really had been watching out… somehow. What kind of magic had gone into your scarf's embroidered edge? You run your fingers over it, seeking out the thread that snapped. The wind dies out in time for you to hear another set of feet shuffling in the room. It's almost too much; you nearly faint with the panic that latches around your throat. You sway back toward the altar to use for leverage as your knees once again threaten to buckle and are bolstered by a rough set of hands that press against your shoulder blades to keep you upright.
You're too strung out to do anything but gape as Deku - the real one, the same one from the year before with his antlers and freckles and big, terrifying green eyes oh gods he's finally here - steps around and immediately yanks you against his chest. You cling back with both arms circled tight around his ribs and let out another ragged sob into the soft fabric of his cloak.
"Are you okay?" he rumbles. You can only nod back and clutch him like he's keeping you anchored to the ground. You feel his head turn above yours, toward the cracked wall and what remains of the hunter, and a low growl vibrates through him. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I tried to get here as fast as I could." You feel his arms tighten around your upper half, boxing you in and insulating you from the sight behind him.
"You saved me," you manage to choke back. "You don't have to apologize for anything." You step back far enough to wipe at your eyes and clear your sinuses, trembling like a leaf in the circle of his arms. "What was that? What attacked him?" 
Deku's mouth draws into a tense line. "I can't tell you," he replies. "But I know someone who can." You blink, confused by his ambivalence. "Have you considered what we talked about last year?"
…What? "Of course I have," you retort. Your head hurts. Where's that spiced wine when you need it? "But I hardly think this is a time to talk about-"
"No no no, think about it," Deku cuts in hurriedly. "I don't mean this in a threatening way at all, but the people of your village are going to get suspicious when someone turns up dead with a set of puncture wounds to the chest."
Your entire body numbs out with panic. He's right. Your gaze snaps to the top of his head, where a set of now fully grown antlers jut out of his wild verdant curls. You begin to count how many points they have, but shove the impulse away with disgust. You don't want to know. Even if you did, it's probably for the best to remain ignorant for now.
Voices echo through the open roof from somewhere beyond, possibly the temple courtyard. "I have to go," he says with a hint of genuine hurt. "They can't find me."
This is too much. The decision to leave was always supposed to be planned out. You've had an entire year to get everything ready, only to have your plans shattered into jagged chunks of broken marble by a drunk hunter and some creature powerful enough to kill him with velocity alone. You clutch yourself to his chest again as panic grips your throat with white-hot claws. "We'll find a way to come back, right?" you whisper with a silent prayer of hope to the entire cosmos.
He nods. "I swear it on my name." He pushes you gingerly by the shoulders so he can look you in the face again, his own tense with mounting anxiety. "We have to go now, my sparrow. Please… I'm begging you, come with me. I don't want to go back without you again." His hands tighten over your shoulders as tears well up along the edges of his wide green eyes. "Please."
It feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and flung out through the open roof. You open your mouth to blurt out some pained apology for making him assume you'd say no, the voices outside growing louder and clearer in the pause, but can only choke around a whimper as everything you want to say jams in your throat. Instead you simply nod, a single weak incline of your head.
That's all it takes for him to scoop you around the waist again and drag you both sideways toward the corner where he appeared. "You might be kind of shocked when we get through," he warns as he hurls you both toward the marble seam you're convinced is going to split your head open on contact. "Hold your breath!"
The command is sharp enough to make your lungs draw in a deep inhale without conscious thought. Your eyes snap shut as your forehead approaches the shadowed corner; it meets only an icy wall of air as the lights beyond your closed eyelids pitches black. You can feel Deku holding you around the waist, an anchor that keeps you tethered to your own sanity as he rushes you through the dark at breakneck pace. The icy rush whipping against your face seems to deplete the lungful of air you're still stubbornly holding onto and within seconds they're screaming for relief. Deku smacks a hand over your mouth just when you think you're going to break and try to take a breath, and a second later you're both tumbling across the stone floor of an unfamiliar but warm kitchen.
---
Part 4
The second your head stops spinning long enough to see again, you realize there's a woman standing between you and Deku. You weakly recognize the faded emerald of the hair she has trimmed neatly at her shoulders. You glance her over and realize with a jump that the skin you can see around her modest summer dress is a pale shamrock green.
"By the gods, who's chasing you now?"
You blink from where you've landed in a sprawl sprawl against an ornately carved kitchen cabinet, too dizzy from the rush of air that fills your lungs when you take a greedy inhale to answer immediately (even though the question was clearly directed at Deku, who landed upside down with his long legs arched over his head against a stone hearth in a corner of the kitchen). You take another breath, but the bottoms of your lungs feel heavy like they've been filled with a thick gas. Deku slumps over to right himself and immediately looks to you. You're beginning to breathe faster as exhaustion gives way to panic.
The woman turns, fixing you with a look of shock that probably rivals your own. She's a spitting image of Deku, down to the ear points that poke out of her silver-streaked hair and the way her eyes go impossibly wide with genuine emotion. "You're human!" she exclaims.
You nod back, too panicked to form proper words. "Oh… oh, you're human!" 
She jumps into motion like she'd just been zapped by a bolt of lightning. She procures a large wooden bowl from a cabinet and fills it with a few handfuls of herbs snatched from dried bundles hanging over the hearth, then steaming water from a kettle that she carefully pulls out from its resting place in the coals. She mutters something in a lilt you can't follow as the bowl is set on the floor in front of you, the woman following suit to kneel on the other side. "Lean down and breathe through the steam," she instructs gently, tilting down to encourage the motion. "The air here is different from the other side. You need to coat your lungs before they start rejecting the pollen floating around."
You tilt forward with a choked noise of panic and take as deep of a breath as you can with the steaming water wafting up across your face. Relief finds you immediately: you can draw a breath all the way to the bottom of your lungs, which takes the edge off your panic enough to finally slow down your respiration rate.
"There you go," the woman encourages gently. She rests a small, comforting hand between your shoulders that's shockingly cold for how warm the kitchen is. "You should be fine now." She turns to give her son an exasperated look. "You brought a human back without giving her anything to prepare?"
"I didn't have a choice!" Deku pleads back. "It was that or risk an entire war on their side-" 
The woman holds up a hand to stop him and Deku immediately obeys. "Hold on," she says slowly, turning back to look at you with both brows raised. Her gaze drops to your neck and freezes. "You're the temple girl, the one he's been going to see."
The room goes silent, spare the crackling of the fireplace and your own rapid heartbeat. The older dryad watches, still as stone as she takes you in with one long look before staring at the fabric around your neck once more. All you can do is nod back. something akin to pain flashes across her face and she sits up with a fond smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but I think it might be best if you let my son explain a majority of them over some tea. You look exhausted."
My son. "So you're Deku's mother?"
The dryad wrinkles her nose. "Yes," she replies stiffly. "Though I very much dislike his chosen name. It's undignified." She turns to Deku again. "You haven't given her your name yet?"
Deku waves his hands in front of him and goldfishes for a response before you cut in. "It's not his fault," you quickly counter. "I didn't want to offer mine. I was raised in a temple that had some pretty strict rules against that in particular."
"Understandable. Though I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of my own son having courted someone for nearly an entire year-" (Courted, what!?) "-Without even having offered his name."
"I did offer it!"
His mother chuckles. "I have to fetch someone who will be of much more significant counsel than I, but that will give you two some time to settle in."
You nod in acknowledgment, but her words don't really process in your brain. Now that you're breathing normally again, exhaustion has begun to creep into your bones. You'd been going on fumes before the hunter decided to ambush you, and now that you've quietly literally been flung through a Fae circle it's hard to do anything but lean against the cabinet. The dryad brushes her hand over your shoulder as she passes on her way out. "My name is Inko" echoes through your own head with the contact, jarring you into a sharp yelp, which only makes her chuckle in the same light-as-air way as Deku.
"Well… this is a hell of a way to meet someone's parents."
Said dryad has found his feet and is watching you with a sheepish smile, a hand absently scratching at the base of an antler. "At least it's over now?"
Your head thumps back against the cabinet. This is too much. You need to sleep. If you don't find somewhere to lay down soon, your body is going to give out. "Could we just…" You glance around the kitchen and into the room beyond, where another hearth flickers around a circle of ornately carved wooden den furniture. Perfect.
He follows your line of sight and seems to catch on without you having to finish your request. He moves toward you, arms extended to help you to your feet. When you wobble upon standing he immediately seams your sides up to take a gentle lead toward the sitting room. The furniture all looks hand-carved, the seats made up of soft animal hides that look older than both of you. He lays you down on the longest bench with a small blanket under your head for a pillow, the deerhide that's draped over the back of the sofa gently pulled across you for a proper blanket.
"We can talk later." He leans down to press a kiss to your temple. You groan as he turns to move away, an arm shooting out from under the hide to grab his tunic and hold him in place.
"Wait," you plead quietly, fatigue tugging heavily at your eyelids. "Please stay with me, at least until I fall asleep." You have no idea where you are or how long you'll be out. All you know is Deku being gone means you're here alone and you absolutely cannot bear that thought.
A soft smile breaks across his face. "Of course," he murmurs back. "Anything you need, just like I promised." You scoot to make room and he steps over to fit himself between you and the back of the sofa without prompting. This is what you really needed: a space heater behind you, a fire in front, and a strong arm draping itself over your midsection to hold the knotted ends of your scarf as you both drift off. If nothing else, Deku has more than proven he'll kill anything that comes near you… or at least has access to something that can.
He's still there when you come to. The lighting in the room hasn't changed when you open your eyes to peer around, and it isn't until now that you notice neither the kitchen nor den have any windows. The fire has burned down to a low pile of flickering embers, which means you were at least out long enough to burn through what had been there earlier. With no view of the sun, however, it's impossible to tell how long you were out.
Your stirring rouses Deku, who grunts in his sleep and pulls you back into his chest. The arm cradled under yours has turned an eerie cold. When it registers you sit up to face him, concerned until it snaps into another bolt of shock.
You yelp and fall off the edge of the sofa. Deku's skin has turned a shade of green identical to his mother's, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast. He bolts upright as well, looking around for the source of the panic before he spots you on the floor, half covered by the deer hide you'd accidentally tugged with you. "What's wrong?" he asks urgently, glancing around again.
"You're…"
He gives you a puzzled look, then glances down to where you're staring at his forearms. "Oh!" His hands rub absently at the opposite forearm as his cheeks flush ever so slightly. "Uh… yeah. I told you you might be a little shocked."
Shit. You did it again. You push yourself up to scoot onto the end of the sofa near his feet, and he respectfully folds his legs up to his chest to give you room without having to make contact. It's a gesture you appreciate, but not one you (or him) necessarily need. You sidle up to his shins, where you lean your side with your hands acting as a chin rest on his knees.
"Surprised is more the word," you clarify before poking your tongue out at him playfully. "A little advance notice would have been nice."
"Hey now," Deku chuckles. "I tried. We had a solid plan going there for a minute." He reaches a hand forward and, with a twitch of hesitation, shifts a lock of hair off your forehead and behind an ear. His fingertips are ice cold, a sharp juxtaposition to the warmth in his tone and the care with which he brushes across your skin. "I'm glad you're here, regardless of how it came to be. I've thought of you every single day since my last visit."
How had anyone mistaken dryads for monsters? If the others are a fraction as kind as Deku and his mother, then they've been handed a grave injustice when it comes to human comprehension of their kind. You lean your head toward his hand and he opens his fingers. Your cheek brushes against his weathered palm, eliciting a shiver that courses down your back as the temperature of his skin clashes against the warmth of the den. For a long moment you simply exist, anchored by the green stare fixed upon your own and the callused thumb that smooths over your cheek. Whatever it takes for you to keep this kind of tenderness around will be well worth the effort. You've already decided (long ago, you silently realize) that he is the only one you ever want to be this close to you.
"Do I make you nervous?"
You're taken back to the altar room for a moment as you recall the image of Deku sitting on the pedestal, bathed in pale light with the cicadas humming behind his ethereal laugh. "No," you reply truthfully, hushed and reverent in the slowly disappearing space between you as you both lean forward. Both your eyelids lower as you both lean closer. It's a chaste contact when Deku leans in to kiss you, as soft as his tone and the way he brushes the rest of your hair from the side of your face. Within a few seconds, the soft contact is enough to have you melting against his hand.
A deep male voice breaks the reverie from somewhere behind Deku: "Ah, excuse us…"
This time you both jump hard enough to nearly land on your asses. Deku pushes himself back until he thumps against the arm rest of the sofa as Inko enters the room, followed by what can only be described as a mountain of a man with wild goldenrod hair and deep-set sclera black eyes, their vivid contrasting pupils locked directly on you as he and the dryad approach.
"I hate to be a bother and intrude on such a formative moment, but Inko was insistent upon checking to make sure you're both still alive." He bows his head in deep apology. You're startled by how easily he seems to hold himself level with the massive antlers jutting out of his hair; they're taller than his head and several inches wider on either side. As you force yourself to not take count of the antler points, you vaguely wonder to yourself how he fits through doorways or in anything less than giant-sized.
Deku rises to his feet, and you quickly follow suit. "Ahh, this is my father," he says quickly. "I get the feeling you two are going to be fast friends."
"If you're willing to risk traversal sickness for her, she's got to be worth her weight in gold," the man booms back. He approaches with a hand the size of a serving platter toward you, the deep lines of his face bent around a beaming grin you recognize on the spot. "My name is Yagi Toshinori. Don't worry, it's safe to introduce yourself to me. I'm not Fae."
You twitch your head to the side but take his hand to shake it anyway, suddenly flummoxed. "But the antlers…"
"A by-product of the life I've found for myself." He lifts an arm as Inko steps up to his side and lays it over her back. It's kind of amusing to see such a small woman under the arm of a moving mountain, but the care with which he moves about her is heart-warmingly familiar. "All by choice, zero regrets."
The two of them take a seat on a smaller bench in the den, and you and Deku take your seats once they're both settled. "The drop in is rough, eh? That ice tunnel is awful."
You frown back. "How did you find this place?" 
"I didn't find this place." He puts his arm behind Inko's neck, who leans into him with an appreciative hum. "I found my wife first. She's the one who brought me here."
You can't help but laugh, and mercifully the other three join in. "That sounds familiar," you reply through a chuckle.
"It happens less than it used to, but it's not unheard of," Inko adds. "I had a feeling my son would be following in my footsteps."
There's just enough flatness to her words that you squirm on the spot. "I hope that's not a bad thing," Deku says as he draws himself closer to your side. "Unless my logic is severely flawed, there wouldn't be a son to follow in your footsteps if you hadn't done it first."
Yagi lets out an undignified snort. Inko tries to frown, but it breaks around a smile as she nods in defeat. "All the same, I wish this hadn't been so sudden," she adds. "Not that I'm upset you're here now-" She holds a hand up quickly toward you. "-It was just rather abrupt. I wish we could have had time to prepare a proper welcome."
You glance down to your lap. "Deku saved me from something terrible," you respond quietly. "We didn't really have a choice in the matter." You look up again to offer the older dryad an encouraging smile. "Though rest assured he's been nothing but respectful the entire time I've known him." You bow your head politely. "Your hospitality is much appreciated. Thank you for giving me shelter."
Something behind Inko's eyes softens enough to make your heart twist. She watches you for a long moment, studying you as you do your best to not squirm. "The door has been opened for this place to potentially become your home," she replies to break the silence. "No need to speak of it as a foreign place. You already belong."
You feel Deku draw in a sharp breath. When you glance up to him he's hastily wiping his eyes on the back of his free hand. "Don't mind me," he chirps with a slight tremble. "This is normal. Been a crybaby since I was a sapling."
"You are not a crybaby," Yagi jabs back as he casually swipes a thumb under one of his eyes. "You have a heart."
And I wonder where he gets it, you think to yourself as you lean into Deku's side to comfort him.
The situation that brought Deku's parents together is so similar to your own it's almost eerie: Toshinori had been a well-known hunter from another village who found himself "lost" during an extended journey into the forest; in reality, he'd been lured away from the village so a team of rogues could take him out and claim his hunting grounds. He reached out for Inko, who'd already been coming around in a similar fashion to Deku responding to your meditation, and she answered by snaring the entire group in a wave of venom-thorned vines before sweeping him through a circle and away from the chaos. They were married within a year, and Deku came along a few years after that.
"It's oddly romantic, when you take out the death-by-murder-vine part," you offer to keep the mood light. All three of them laugh, especially Inko, who chortles behind her hand until her cheeks turn pink.
Something is digging at you, though. You can't let the entire moment go without at least trying to ask. "You said you're human," you repeat to Yagi. "But you also say the antlers come from magic. I thought we couldn't access magic."
"We can't," he replies casually. Thank goodness, you'd been incredibly nervous about broaching such a personal subject. "Not by default, at least. Humans haven't earned the right as a whole. However, sometimes things happen and the magic itself chooses someone who might be worth it." He nods toward the scarf tied around your neck. "Not just anyone can affect a connection through something like that. It takes something predetermined by forces beyond our control for that connection to be forged at all."
The air in your lungs evaporates. "So this was fate."
Yagi nods sagely. "Yes, as was me coming here. We aren't the first, and we won't be the last." He jabs a finger at Deku, who's taken to clinging to your side like a newborn bear cub. "His antlers, however, come from a direct blood connection to feral magic. He's full dryad, and it'll be even more apparent once he's eventually the most powerful one."
The world screeches to a halt amid Yagi's beaming pride. You feel Deku go very, very still next to you. "Um… I beg your pardon?"
"The Ascendant," Inko answers. "There is a thread of feral magic more concentrated than anything else recorded in our history. It chooses who it resides within, and whoever that force chooses is essentially the most powerful being in our charted world." She inclines her head toward her son. "And one day that will be him."
You look between the two of them, then back to Yagi. "So that means you're the Ascendant."
"For the moment. My time is coming to an end soon. I've served my purpose, so it's time for the next cycle to begin."
"You don't mean…"
Yagi's eyes go wide. "Oh no no no, I'm not going to die, dear," he booms. "It's time for me to pass along my power. I'm fortunate to have a successor in time, and it would seem like this little excursion is a good indicator he might be prepared for it."
"We don't know that," Deku cuts in, and it isn't until now that you notice how flushed his cheeks are. "It'll happen if it's meant to happen, right?" You lay a hand on his knee that's immediately covered by one of his own. He sags into your side in quiet gratitude.
Inko nods. "And it hasn't happened yet, so we won't fret about it for now." Her tone is soft, but there's a comforting finality ronit that effectively ends the subject for discussion.
You're given a tour of their house, which Deku fervently clarifies is not the place where he's lived for several years (Inko replies with a smug "And yet there's almost always a third plate at the table", which seems to be more than enough for him to take a back seat with his dad and let Inko lead them around). She walks you through the lower floor, where several cozy bedrooms are situated around a circular pit set into the floor. The center is full of a myriad of cushions and pillows in an eye-catching pile of patterns and colors all jumbled together in a space wide enough to fit at least three Yagis with extra foot room. "You can pick any of the empty rooms for yourself," Inko says to you sweetly before shooting a pointed look toward her son, who drops his head and shuffles anxiously on the spot. "But I ask that you remain in yours. I know you're grown, but this is my-"
Deku squirms harder. "Yep, got it," he confirms hastily. It's clear there's literally anything else he'd rather be talking about. "Can we start dinner? I'm starving."
Your stomach audibly rumbles at the mention of food. Yes, that's an excellent idea for more than one reason. When is the last time you ate? If you can't remember, it's probably been way too long. Yagi sweeps everyone toward the stairs with both arms stretched to herd them forward. You silently thank him with a smile as he squeezes your shoulder on the way past.
Four people working at once means dinner is made with a quickness, something you're intensely grateful for when you finally sit down to ea. Your stomach hurts from lack of food so much it almost hurts more to eat until you've got enough sustenance in you to level out. You see to the tableware afterward as Deku cleans what remains of the kitchen mess. The other two take their leave for the night with one last round of greeting, Inko's eyes trained on her son as she warns him about "straying past boundaries" on the way toward the stairs, her husband chortling the whole time.
You and Deku wait in silence until a door audibly opens and closes again. "Well," Deku chirps as he turns to face you with an equally cheeky grin. "I guess I'll bid you goodnight here as well. I'll show you where I live tomorrow, once we've both had a chance to sleep." He takes your hand and kisses the back of it with a dramatic bow. "Sweet dreams, my sparrow."
You snort and take your hand back, but not before giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Good night, Deku." His grin turns sly as he moves off to his own room, leaving you to find the smallest unoccupied bedroom for yourself.
---
Part 5
The next morning both Inko and Yagi see you both out, the former not allowing her son to leave the house before he's verbally promised to come by soon (and in a hushed whisper to keep you safe). It isn't until you're outside that the lack of windows is explained: the front of Inko's home is set underneath the roots of a gargantuan tree that juts straight up toward the sky in a massive straight line. You peer upward toward the canopy, but it's so far above the other trees the bare trunk is swallowed by the forest crown on all sides with no way to see beyond. The house sits at the head of a narrow trail with more angled trees visible down the road. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get settled," he reminds, offering you a bent elbow.
You smile and slip a hand onto his forearm. You take the short walk to his home in lockstep, Deku's skin cooler in the open breeze where it brushes under your fingers. The air is heavy with humidity and the chill of a light fog that hovers over the trail as you walk down it, bugs chirping and creaking from the grass on either side of the path. It's… idyllic.
Deku's house is almost identical to Inko's, but it's only a single floor and houses, much to your delight, a natural spring under the kitchen. He waves you toward it with a grin and something about a fresh tunic, but that devious little glint in his eye is back when he meanders off to change his clothes as you see yourself downstairs.
The hot spring is a deep pool in its own room with a shallow end that slopes up to the water's edge. The torch-illuminated rock wall behind it shimmers with a stream of water that runs down from somewhere above and down into the pool in a soft, trickling wall, next to a sitting area has been carved out of the rock to the right side of the pool. You dig out a couple of towels and a robe made of butter-soft material from a cabinet before ridding yourself of your dirty temple garb and every garment underneath it, your prized scarf folded lovingly on top of the pile before everything gets placed in a basket next to the edge of the pool. You can't bring yourself to leave the scarf somewhere out of arm's reach, and your robes are the last real thing you own.
The water is hot when you step onto the shallowest shelf, not enough to burn but definitely enough to pull a groan of satisfaction from you as you eagerly step in until you're submerged to your bare chest. Every muscle in your back begins to unclench themselves within seconds. You sink lower into the water, past your chin with a slow inhale and all the way down until your knees touch the stone floor of the pool. Everything goes quiet in a rush of water: it fills your ears and drowns out everything else but the odd bubble of warmth you've found below the water's surface. Your nerves balm themselves over for the first time since flying through the ring amid the trickling quiet. I's just you here, with no one else to drop another surprise on you. You stay submerged as long as you can before pushing back up to breach the surface with a satisfied gasp, your head clearer than it's been for days.
You wipe at your face to clear your eyes of excess water and the first thing you see is Deku hovering at the edge of the shallow bank, a towel slung low over his hips. You yelp and jump back amid a slosh of water, partially out of shock and partially to keep yourself from immediately staring at his bare torso. It isn't enough to stave off the newfound knowledge that he's built like a sprint courier and that he's very, very much naked under the towel. "Gods, you've got to quit startling me," you whimper as you swipe a wet hand over your face.
Deku laughs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. To be fair, you were underwater when I opened the door."
You grouse back, but it has no heat. He's right.
"Can I join you?"
Your playful frown turns genuine. "I thought that was understood."
"You didn't say I could come close. You're vulnerable right now. If you tell me to stay out, I will."
"You're very polite for someone who's already stripped down."
His cheeks flush bright pink. "I was hopeful," he replies in an obvious attempt to be aloof, but it doesn't quite mesh with the way he keeps jerking his gaze away from the surface of the water (and, you realize with a bolt of mortification, a clear enough view of your naked form for him to definitely see). "But I meant what I said."
The urge to test him and see what happens flashes through you, but it doesn't seem worth the effort. At the end of it all, you do want him to come closer. You step toward him, willing yourself to keep moving as the water lowers enough to expose your chest. Deku seems equally dead-set on keeping his eyes raised, your flushes a matching shade of garish pink now and getting deeper as you come within arm's reach of him and offer a hand.
"Please?"
His hesitation snaps in an instant. Deku throws the towel aside and hurtles toward the pool, only giving you barely enough time to step aside and avoid the splash of water that cascades over you. He resurfaces and shakes his hair out before turning to face you, grinning from ear to ear. "Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?"
Given your own doubts, there's only one real way to tell. You take the initiative and glide toward him in two long steps and snake your arms around his neck. As soon as you're in reach he pulls you in by the waist and kisses the air right out of your lungs. You break away for a breath, but as soon as you've gotten it he tugs you again and the kiss quickly grows sharper with edges of teeth that clack together every time one of you readjusts your head. A hand pushes into your hair to cradle the back of your head; when you tilt into the angle of his hand he presses his tongue past your lips and all bets are off.
The delicacy with which he's touched you so far is gone. Deku kisses like he's been starved of contact for years on end. You give back everything you're given with enthusiasm until you're both struggling to inhale. A dam has been broken: every bit of excitement, fear, doubt, and loneliness that's eaten at you over the years rushes forth in a tidal wave and it's all you can do to cling to him and hope you're not going to wake up in your own bed at any second.
You finally separate with a wet pop. The both of you hover close enough to brush together as you struggle to regain some composure. Deku sighs quietly, his chest still rising and falling hard enough to disturb the water around him. "So I'm not dreaming," he says quietly. "Good. I dunno if I could have handled waking up without you again."
His admission wobbles around a thread of genuine hurt that has you pulling him into a tight hug, your arms wrapped around him tight. You circle your fingernails over the backs of his shoulders in lazy circles. "You don't have to," you murmur into his ear. "We're both here now." Which, wow that's a wild truth, but it's a truth nonetheless.
Deku clings back with his face buried in the crook of your neck. A silence lapses with only trickling water to fill the gap. There's no need for either of you need to say anything: there's a wealth of communication in the reciprocal drags of his nails, the tiny ghosting pecks he leaves under your ear, the little sighs when you drag your nails up toward his neck. You're more than aware of the fact that there's something hard pressing into your lower stomach that definitely isn't his abs, but your curiosity can wait.
He doesn't seem to agree. The pecks along your throat lengthen into full kisses as he settles above the thump of your pulse. A faint drag of teeth makes you jump and he muffles a laugh into your neck. "So jumpy," he purrs.
You give him a nip to an earlobe in retaliation. He jumps on the spot as you chuckle into his ear: "Who's jumpy?"
That seems to hit a switch. You're pulled up and out of the water in one unceremonious grab as Deku hauls you over a shoulder. Your yelp echoes off the walls but he pays them no mind, spare a wet smack to your bare ass. He doesn't leave you with any other real option besides being hauled out of the spring and up the stairs once again.
His room is somewhere deep in the house. It's impossible to ascertain exactly what anything looks like while you're slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, so when he shuts the door of a bedroom warmed by a crackling floor pit it's a bit of a shock.
You fully expect to be thrown down, but instead he braces you under the knees and neck to set you on an impossibly soft blanket stretched across his bed. He steps back, a look of apprehension on his features when they come back into view. "As much as I want this," he says as your sense of gravity corrects itself. "I won't touch you unless you want me to. That was rather… abrupt, and I apologize for it."
It takes a second for you to realize why he's even apologizing. The guilt twisting across his face is what makes it click: you hadn't told him to pick you up. It's your turn to frown as you lean toward him. "I'm not mad," you offer gently. "But I appreciate your apology. It's okay. I want to be here."
Deku's apprehension ebbs, but doesn't completely disappear. "You give me your word?"
You nod without hesitation. His smile returns immediately, radiant amid the firelight, and your stomach flips with elation as he eagerly closes the distance between you.
He settles low between your spread knees, a solid weight that keeps you in place without much room to breathe, let alone think. You're dizzy with the intensity, but you kiss him back with every bit of fervor you're given. Deku groans against your flattened tongues. "Can I taste you?"
You nod without opening your eyes and the weight above you slides downward. It's definitely for the best that you hadn't watched him move: a long, hot tongue drags up your slit and draws your back up off the bed in a graceful arc. He seizes you around the waist with a muffled groan.
He takes you apart with a ferocity that's almost scary. Sharp dives of his tongue punctuate the moments he's not wrapped around your core, alternating every time your wails start to get louder or shake apart. You grip at the blanket above your head for an anchor, but abandon it in favor of the verdant curls on top of his head when a cruel twist of his tongue has you pushing nearly all the way off the bed.
His name flying past your lips mixes with a weak moan from the juncture where his face is buried. "Watch the horns," he whimpers (gods, it shouldn't be so hot to hear someone's voice crack). "But do that again."
You tighten your grip obligingly. His head pulls ever so slightly against your grip when he returns to devouring you with a newfound focus. Something thick prods past your folds and you jerk your head up in surprise, but it's a critical mistake. You're afforded a full view of him with his tongue pressed flat to your core and two thick fingers burying themselves to the thickest knuckle and it rips you right over the edge before you can even draw a breath.
He coaxes you through it, drinking you down with your thighs wedged directly over his ears. When you can finally move them away, you're almost concerned you might have hurt him. But then he sits up, his chin shining in the dim light with a wet grin planted just above it, and there's absolutely no doubt he was just as into it as you were. Your own grin edges on feral. "You gonna stop there, or are you gonna take care of yourself as well?"
Deku snorts with an edge of derision that has you shivering. "You think I'm done with you?"
Oh.
He's back in position with one sharp swoop. This time he throws either leg over his own, splaying your knees wide around his ribs. A wave of self-awareness punches you square in the gut as he drags his eyes down the length of your exposed frame. "Incredible," he breathes. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you."
You squirm, but will yourself to remain still. It's almost too much. There's so much tenderness behind the wild thrum shaking through him you're not sure how you even deserve it. Thankfully, his patience seems to run out just as your resolve to remain still snaps. He kisses you again as something thicker presses into you, drawing out a prolonged moan from both of you that breaks off when your laps settle together. "Hang on," Deku grunts hard against your lips. "N-need a second."
He's shaking under your arms where they're circled around his neck, but that could very easily also be you. "Yeah. Gods, Deku, you're-"
"Izuku."
The entire room goes still. He locks eyes with you, his own blown wide with only a ring of gold-flecked emerald left. Fear jumps across them while his throat bibs around a hard swallow. "That's my name. I just want you to have it. You don't have to give me yours."
Fear twists your heart for just a beat before it's replaced by a heavy warmth. You reach a hand up toward his face where it hovers just above yours, tentative and soft, the finger that curls his hair behind an ear ever so gentle. "Soon," you whisper back.
Izuku beams. "I'll wait as long as it takes."
Your lips crash together again, both of them curved upward around matching smiles. Izuku sets up a pace that keeps you close while still allowing him to take the lead and kiss the air out of your lungs, skin softly popping together with shallow thrusts without stopping. He has each hip in hand again with a grip that slowly increases with his breathing. Before long you're both panting into each other's ear, your head thrown back while he worries your throat with his teeth and grunts with barely restrained need.
"Won't last long," he rumbles.
You nod your acknowledgment. You've been a puddle since the second he laid you on the bed and took you apart like a prized garment. It's only fair he ends up just as boneless as you. You set your knees around his ribs to lift yourself into him, but both knees are pushed to the bed just as quickly. Izuku is watching where your bodies meet with a feverish focus. He doesn't seem entirely aware that he's got you completely splayed open but he thrusts hard and deep anyway, guttural noises punching out of him in time with the snapping of wet skin.
He finds an angle that seems to hit right up into your midsection and it's all over. He rips a wail out of you before your mouths are sealed together again, his pace unrelenting. You fall apart hard enough to make your entire frame quake under his grip, which has tightened enough to leave deep bruises where his fingers dig into your thighs. Just when it feels like you might actually have to tap out or risk going unconscious he thrusts in one more time with a sharp growl, then another, then a final one deep in his chest as he rolls himself into your hips and finally paints your insides white hot.
You're both trembling like leaves when he finally collapses on top of you again. You run your nails through the damp curls over his temples as he returns the favor along your hips, idle and tender despite the harsh bruises you can feel blooming along your inner thighs. Your breathing comes back slowly as you lazily kiss through the aftershocks, hands never ceasing in their wandering. It's a perfect feedback loop of calm and relief with only the fire to witness in the otherwise empty house.
As your breathing returns to normal you nudge Izuku up enough to meet his eyes. They've gone back to their normal emerald, the flicker of the fire catching hair-thin veins of gold. With the curved points of his horns looming overhead and flush-kissed shamrock skin, he should be some kind of intimidating. Instead, you can't stop staring at him. He's ethereal, more so than anything you've ever seen in any tome or heard in any story. He's real. He's flesh and bone and big, soft eyes and a heart entirely too warm for a creature who could take down minotaurs bare-handed.
And yet he looks at you like you're made of Faerie porcelain.
The corners of your mouth curl upward. You beckon for him to lean forward again and he does so, seemingly as transfixed as you. You pull him down so your lips can brush the shell of his ear and, after a ghosting kiss to his cheek, you whisper your name.
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erikavixin2006 · 3 years
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Where Lila knows not to mess with the cat's princess.
A seemingly innocent smile appeared on Lila's lips as the girl walked down the streets to her "supposed" self-proclaimed kingdom, her mind swirled with thoughts and plans of taking down a certain half-Asian. Ever since the pig-tailed girl responded confidently to her threat, she began to find certain ways to tarnish the goody-two-shoes reputation. Marinette didn't seem to call her out of her lies anymore, frequently avoiding her. Whenever she got closer to the bluenette, said girl would either walk away, or stand there quietly while she babbled on her lies towards her clueless friends.
Even the mention of the students of Francoise Dupont made her lips twitch into a smirk. How clueless and mindless they are, believing whatever they want to hear, if she cared she would've felt sorry for Marinette, but she didn't. When framing her for theft and bully, most of her friends felt betrayed and hurt, angry even. She would've succeeded in getting rid of a love-rival if it weren't for a certain Agreste.
Adrien Agreste is a famous model, kind and handsome, qualities every woman wants in a man, and also, loved by almost half the population of teenage girls in Paris. Lila knew there were 3 girls after him apart from herself. Chloe Bourgeois, the mayor's daughter, which Lila considered not much of a threat since the girl seemed to show little romantic interest in him, confirming both of them to be just best friends. Next is Kagami Tsurugi, a big threat, the Japanese girl is beautiful and confident, and her mother is good friends with his father, Adrien had dated the girl for a while, only for both of them to break it up, thinking it's best if they stay friends, even so, Kagami had proved to still be very protective of Adrien, disliking Lila once taking a good look at her. Finally, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the biggest threat, the girl is hopelessly in love with Adrien, always stuttering and stumbling around him, though after a while, she stopped, her confidence increasing rapidly, a trait Lila soon found to be annoying, the half-Asian was supposed to be out of Lila's way when she started going out with Luka, but for some reason the two decided to stay friends, making Marinette a nuisance in Lila's eyes. Lila isn't blind, she could see the obvious love and adoration in Adrien's eyes whenever the bluenette is in his line of sight. The blond was obviously in love with her, and that made Lila's blood boil in anger, she tried to bad-mouthed her in front of Gabriel, but the middle-aged man shrugged it off, already meeting Marinette a few times, deeming her a worthy friend of Adrien once seeing her devotion towards Adrien and her exceptional talent in fashion. And that is when Lila knew she couldn't simply manipulate the man that easily, giving up on that idea, continuing to get on Agreste's Senior's good side, spying on Adrien.
Speaking of the blond boy, her lips turned into a lovesick grin when thinking of him. He is everything she ever dreamed of, rich, handsome, and kind. His name will bring her fame and fortune from all over the world. Just the thought of her hanging off the clueless man's arms while attending worldwide events made her feel giddy. Now that she is on his father's good side, it's only a matter of time before Adrien comes crawling to her feet, worshiping her just like the others. Though she admit the boy isn't as dumb as he seems, already knowing the girl's exceptional talent in lying, as the good-for-nothing superhero called her out in front of him. She hated the spotted hero, finding her a threat to her well-formed lies. But, the hero isn't in her way this time, her plan was to take down Dupain-Cheng, though the girl's friends still think of Marinette as the sweet, kind girl they loved, Lila is going to make sure they think her of the opposite by the end of the day, after all, no one can resist what they want to hear, she will be getting her fame soon. Plastering on a sweet smile, the girl walked into the school, fully unaware of what lies ahead of her.
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Adrien Agreste had a feeling that something will happen today, and his suspicions lie on the sausage-haired girl that just walked in the class, her face planted with an all to sweet smile that disgusts him. His first reaction was to look behind, as if fearing something had happened to the girl that he called "Everyday Ladybug" , she's not here, late as usual, sighing in relief, he turned back to the front, lips stretching into a thin smile as Lila practically latched onto his arm after waving to the classmates, her nails digging into his flesh a little too deep, the man quickly shrug her off, uncomfortable. Lila looked a bit disappointed, but quickly put up her act.
'Oh Adrien, I was just wondering if you would help me with yesterday's Physics homework, you know my cousin is a great Engineer in Japan, she promised to teach me all about her research but due to me having short-term memory loss I couldn't remember a lot of the equations,' she spoke in a sickeningly sweet voice. Adrien wanted confront her again, but it's been weeks since he did, and she never listened, he soon gave up, only ignoring her brags and answering her questions half-heartedly. 'I'm sorry Lila, but maybe you could ask Max about it, I'm having some troubles on Physics myself too,' Adrien just spoke a lie, though not a bad one, he was just trying to dismiss Lila, as he wasn't really in the mood this morning. Lila definitely got the message, replacing her frown with a smile, gushing on how polite he is and moving towards her seat at the back.
Adrien's annoyed frown softened once he saw the pig-tailed girl stumbling into the class, dropping her stuff in the process. The girl quickly stood up and ran towards her seat, greeting her classmates on the way. Adrien saw the twitch of Lila's left eye as all of the classmates greeted the girl, smiling all the way. The certain rustle in his over-shirt pocket reminded Adrien to keep an eye on the liar. Plagg, due to certain reasons, had been a little attached to the baker girl, unbeknownst to Adrien that the angel sitting behind him is the love of his life as well as the guardian of the Miraculous Box, but Plagg knew, and he had a certain soft spot for the Ladybug Miraculous holder, if he could he would've cataclysm the terrorist they call Lila already. He kept calm though, the god of destruction knew that a certain goddess of creation would give him a scolding if he did anything to disrupt their holders lives'.
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The day had gone well, but once lunch arrives, Adrien knew Lila will strike. He saw Lila planting Chloe's expensive necklace into Marinette's bag. The mayor's daughter is known for her unforgiving behavior, if she found her necklace in Marinette's bag, she will accuse without explanation. His blood boiled as he hid behind the door, he had given Lila many chances, his mother taught him to always be forgiving, and he had done just that, only for his princess to be hurt time and time again, now, he's had it, fuck the high road, he's not Gabriel's Agreste's son for nothing. He watched as Lila smirked in triumph, flipping her brown hair and sashaying away.
Adrien waited until the coast is clear, before quietly walking in the classroom, now wondering why doesn't the school provide any security cameras in the classrooms at all. Plagg merely peeked out from his over-shirt pocket, 'Defending your precious girlfriend aren't you? and you still call her a friend,' he muttered the last part. Months of being Chat Noir had strengthen his senses, hearing Plagg spoke the last part brought a small blush to his cheeks, he didn't deny, only muttering a small, ' I still love Ladybug,' . Plagg merely rolled his eyes, 'Yeah yeah loverboy just go help your princess,' before tucking himself back into his over-shirt.
Gabriel taught his son a little, but he still remembered one of the lectures he gotten, is that to never show mercy to someone who is a threat to you. And Marinette is his sunshine, picturing her unhappy broke his heart, he will not let that happen, ever. Lila needs to learn her lesson, and he will make sure she does.
With a flick of his wrist, the expensive jewelry was fished out of the girl's bag, and without a flicker of remorse in his eyes, Adrien swiftly dropped the necklace into Lila's bag behind. Standing up, he glanced around, making sure no one saw it. Plastering a model smile, he walked out of the classroom, muttering a few words for Plagg to keep his cackling down.
_________
'Hey my dude, where have you been?' Nino questioned, his arm draped around his girlfriend's shoulder. They were in the cafeteria, with Marinette, the girl smiled brightly at the model. Adrien's eyes softened at the sight, as he took a seat beside Nino, replying, 'Oh I was caught up in the class, apparently I mixed up my Physics and Chemistry notes together,' . He glanced to the center, where Lila is surrounded by many students, as she spoke about her "latest" story, one about how she and Ladybug had been hanging out together. Alya would've gone to her side, but when that one time Lila purposely let slip that she knew Rena Rouge and Carapace personally, the reporter then knew that Lila Rossi is a liar. Alya then apologized to Marinette. The four best friends chatted through the lunch hour, and a side Adrien never knew he had is excited for class to be in session again.
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Adrien knew Chloe will find out eventually, as her shrieks disrupted everyone in the class. Ms, Bustier isn't in yet, and that gives plenty of time for the drama to be unfold. 'My necklace is gone!' the blond screeched. Sabrina beside her was frantic, searching around the floor for it, and even going as far as going through other's desks to find it. Everyone was silent as she screamed, searching through her purse for it. As predicted by Adrien, Lila spoke up in a timid voice, 'Uhm Chloe? Maybe you could tell us what it looks like so we could help you look for it,' she smiled.
Adrien silently chuckled went Marinette grumbled under her breath cutely. Chloe huffed, ignoring Lila, Sabrina spoke up, 'It's this beautiful Bee pendant, it has the shape of a bee, it's really shiny so I think finding it wouldn't be much of a problem, if you guys could help search for it, it would be great, please?' she clapped both hands together. The class, shrugged and merely started to look around, ignoring Chloe's useless protests of accusations towards everyone in the class.
Adrien's eyes flickered towards Lila, the girl pretended to look around, only for her to put up a fake act. her eyes pretended to lit up, as she spoke up in a small voice, 'I remember seeing that necklace Chloe,'. Chloe placed her hands on her hips, 'Well? Where is it?!' . Lila then pretended to be confused, 'Though I'm not sure why Marinette was holding it earlier,' she then clasped her hands to her mouth in surprised, pretending to have said the wrong thing. The classmates had gasped in horror, and Chloe had screamed towards Marinette, demanding for her to empty her bag. Adrien had to hold in the pain as he watched Marinette's eyes flashed hurt ,confusion and anger. Sabrina walked over to Marinette, muttering a soft apology before opening her bag, dumping the contents out.
The class watched, most of them not believing that their kind Marinette would do such a thing. The search went on for a few moments, as Sabrina shook her head towards Chloe. The blonde girl huffed, 'I knew it, Dupain-Cheng wouldn't have the guts to pull of something like that, so Sabrina, check that girl's bag, or whatever her name is, judging at her tacky clothing she definitely seems like someone who would want to get her peasant hands on my priceless necklace,' she accused, and Adrien had to hide his smile of satisfaction as he watched Lila turned pale, quickly finding up excuses, 'You're accusing me? I...I just want to help Chloe,' she said, her voice trembled a little.
Everyone was either too shocked or too perplexed to step in. Lila is loss at words now, she was sure she slipped the necklace into the bluenette's bag, but Marinette seem surprised too, Lila didn't have time to suspect anyone, as she could feel cold sweat dripping down the back of her neck. Sabrina is walking towards her, and began to reach for her bag. Everyone except the four friends gasped in surprise, as Sabrina pulled out a necklace, to be specific, Chloe's necklace, from the side pocket of Lila's bag. Chloe scowled at Lila, as she snapped her fingers for Sabrina to come forward with her necklace. Most of the students were hurt, while some were even glaring at her. Lila thought fast, she had no time to be panicking now, 'I.. I didn't know how it ended up in my bag, someone must have framed me, please guys you have to believe me,' she sobbed, another act that Adrien and Marinette saw through.
Sweet Rose spoke up, 'Let's give Lila another chance guys? The necklace probably dropped into her bag, and maybe Lila saw wrongly of Marinette, maybe they were both framed?' she spoke softly, and Lila had to sigh through her hands, sweet gullible Rose, so clueless. The rest didn't have a chance to speak up as Ms. Bustier walked in the class, telling everyone to settle down and opening her book to start the lesson. Adrien was satisfied, but he knew Lila wouldn't go down after that, so he decided to keep an eye on her for now. Seeing his princess smile in relief, he knew it was worth it.
Lila simply didn't know what went wrong, she was really sure no one had saw her do it, or did she merely forgot it all? A million questions swirled through her mind. Most of the students still shot her suspicious glances. The girl had no time to ponder on the miscalculations she made, she had to gain back their trust, and she knew just what to do the next day.
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'Tikki, what do you think happened today?' Marinette had her chin propped up with one hand, the other holding onto a pen, as she wrote halfway in her diary. Tikki giggled quietly, knowing full well what happened. The Miraculous of the ladybug and the black cat represented yin and yang, meaning that they're one. Both of the Miraculous complete the other. Creation may seem powerful and incredible, when really it's vulnerable in many ways, that's why Destruction is there, to make sure nothing happens to Creation. With Creation comes Destruction, it's been like that ever since the beginning.'I'm not sure Marinette, but I do know Lila finally deserved what she got,', Marinette nodded her head, as kind as she may be, she is thrilled to see the shock look on Lila's face. Tikki float towards Marinette front, 'But you really should be more careful Marinette, Lila may have slipped up today, but we'll never know when she will frame you again,' she warned. Marinette giggled, 'Alright Tikki, I'll be more careful,' she kissed the top of the kwami's head.
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Lila was sure, today she will ruin Marinette once and for all, she spent all of last night devising a new plan, but first, she had to earn back the trust of the class. She went for Mylene first, knowing full well that she is just as vulnerable as Rose. Stepping up to her in the locker room, she spoke in her best "sweet" voice, 'Mylene, I just want to say, I really didn't know how Chloe's necklace got into my bag, and I'm really sorry if I broke your trust, I really didn't know what happened,' she pleaded. Mylene, being the sweet girl she is, smiled, 'Of course Lila, we were pretty shocked yesterday, and might have judged you too quickly, I want to apologize too,' she smiled, which Lila inwardly sneered at. She flashed her a sweet smile, grabbing both of her hands, she questioned in an innocent tone, 'So are we still friends?'.
Mylene softly grabbed onto her hands, 'Of course Lila, we're friends,' . Lila scoffed, Who does she think she is? Grabbing my hands like that, these peasants aren't worth near my delicate ones. She hid her disgust as she embraced the shorter girl. Meanwhile, Marinette and Alya were at the half-Chinese's locker, Alya scoffed, covering her mouth with her tablet to speak to Marinette, 'Can you believer her? I can't believe I used to worship her, poor Mylene,' . Marinette rolled her eyes at Lila, she was glad somebody was on her side. 'They'll find out she's lying one day Alya,' the bluenette assured. Alya looked at Marinette and embraced her, 'Girl, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you before, now I know how you feel,' . Marinette smiled sweetly, the opposite of Lila's own smile.
'Hey! How my favourite dudettes hangin?' Nino waved towards them, as the two girls exited the locker room, heading to class. The upcoming DJ slung an arm around Alya, Adrien tailing behind, waving at them softly. Marinette waved back at the two. As the four were about to head up, Marinette halted, 'I left my bag in the locker room again!' she sulked. Alya chuckled, 'You're too cute Mari, go get it, we'll wait for you here,', Marinette nodded and ran, almost tripping over her own feet. Adrien had to ignore the flutter in his heard upon seeing their "Everyday Ladybug" so vulnerable and adorable.
Alya turned towards Adrien, Nino's arm still slung around her, 'So, Sunshine boy, what happened yesterday?' she questioned, Nino looking at the both of them questioningly. Adrien cocked a teasing brow, his Chat Noir side showing a little, 'Whatever do you mean, Alya?' he smiled. Alya jabbed a finger to his chest, 'Don't play dumb with me, Golden Boy, I saw your expression when Lila got exposed, that was your doing wasn't it?' she demanded. Poor Nino didn't understand what's going on, but soon caught up when he recalled yesterday's event, 'Dude? That was you? How?'. Adrien sighed, 'I couldn't let Lila bully Marinette, and I think it's time she learned her lesson, I'm done playing the high road, I won't let anything happen to Marinette,' he spoke in a low voice, not wanting to gain the attention of the students around them. With that he caught up towards Marinette, who is making her way towards them, both of them engaging in a conversation seconds later.
Nino and Alya looked at Adrien shocked, as the two walked up the stairs. The turtle hero and the fox hero following soon after. Nino could then make out a string of words that his girlfriend muttered, 'Just a friend my butt,'.
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It's Art class for their first period, and their work is painting. Lila is finding it hard to get to Marinette, Alya and Nino were always with her, and so is Adrien, she fumed as she eyed Adrien leaning towards Marinette to compliment her art, the girl flashing him a grateful smile, a pink hue dusted her cheeks. Adrien is supposed to be fawning over her! Not that good for nothing baker girl! Lila was blinded by anger and jealousy, and the plan she so carefully devised last night was dumped to the side of her brain. The spotted hero in civilian form now began to stand up, and walked out the class to wash her cup filled with dirtied paint water. The moment she passed by Lila, the olive-eyed girl forgot all about staying calm and composed, sticking her foot out, to which Marinette is unaware of (focused on the part where she might accidentally spill the water) and tripped her. Marinette fell, her cup knocked out of her hands, and drenched her body from head to chest.
Students turned their focus from their painting to the fallen girl on the floor, soaking wet at this point. Most of them came to aid her, while some of them chuckled and turned back towards their work, dismissing this as another one of Marinette's clumsiness. Adrien was not convinced, he saw Lila's foot stuck out when his princess tripped. Meanwhile Marinette sneezed from the cold air hitting her drenched body, her hands flew to wrap around herself, shivering. Alya rushed to aid her best friend, but Adrien beat her to it, taking off his white over-shirt and wrapping it around the girl, supporting the girl as he excused both of them to get Marinette cleaned up, despite the pig-tailed girl's flustered state.
Before they left, Adrien shot Lila a look, his usual kind green eyes turned acid-green as he glared at her, a warning glare. Lila flinched a little, but quickly masked it, as she gushed on how clumsy Marinette is, inside she is burning with rage towards the blue-haired girl, What does Adrien see in her?!  She cursed at herself for letting rage blind her. The class isn't much help either, instead they're adding fuel to Lila's fire, gushing on the "Adrienette" moment that just happened. They were all supposed to be shipping her and Adrien! They would make a much better pair than Adrienette!
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'I could've sworn I tripped over something,' Marinette spoke from the inside of the girls bathroom, while Adrien stood outside, waiting for her. He had handed her his spare black shirt in his locker, his white over-shirt now fitted to his body once again. The man sighed, 'I saw Lila trip you, are you hurt anywhere?' he spoke with concern. 'I'm fine Adrien, thanks for caring, I have to be careful from where I'm walking now,' she giggled. The door opened as Marinette stepped out, in one of Adrien's shirt, her black jacket sealed in a bag. Marinette rinsed her dirtied hair with clean water to wash the paint off, letting her hair down for ti to dry quicker. Despite sounding normal, the girl is still in a rather flustered state, 'Are you sure about your shirt? I don't think your father would do well with his son's shirt on some random girl,' she tugged on the hem of the large shirt nervously. Despite Adrien's lanky frame, he is still a lot taller and broader than Marinette, and the half-Asian is a petite girl. Adrien fought back the blush, covering his face with his hands, the girl looked so adorable and small he had the urge to just embrace her and never let go. 'It's fine Marinette, besides, my father wouldn't mind, if I explain the situation to him I'm sure he'll understand,' he straightened up. Marinette stammered, flushing red, 'I....B..but I didn't want you to get in trouble because of me! I...I promised to give it back tomorrow!' she squeaked the last part.
The blonde swallowed dryly, muttering something that went unheard by Marinette, 'She's going to be the death of me one day,', staring down at the fidgety girl, he placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling, 'It's okay Marinette, really, keep the shirt, I have more at home, you need it more than I do, now come on, let's get back to class,', he grabbed her hand and led her out, ignoring the slight rustle of movement in his shirt pocket. Marinette is a blushing mess right about now, just when she thought she is moving on, she managed to fall in love with him again, and it's more complicated now as she was just starting to feel butterflies around her kitty too. Tikki peeked out from her holder's purse, giggling quietly at her owner, if only she knew.
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Squeals were heard in the art room, which were identified as Alya's and Rose's. The entire class is welcomed by a flushed Marinette and a slightly pink Adrien. The art teacher merely smiled at them as he watched the scene. The blond made sure his pig-tailed princess was back to his seat then went back to his own, where Nino nudged him in the ribs coyly. Alya and the rest of the girls, excluding Lila, Chloe and Sabrina, the brunette is raging at this point (surprisingly there's still no akuma) at her seat, rushed to the bluenette, demanding details. 'Girl explain to us why are you in Adrien Agreste's shirt?!' Alya shook the girl hard. Rose squealed, 'Oh my gosh It's so romantic! He lent you his shirt!' she sighed dreamily, leaning against Juleka, who merely gave a nod of approval towards Marinette. Alix placed both hands behind her head, whistling, 'I do hope you both didn't do anything more~' she teased. Adrien peeked and chuckled to himself when Marinette buried her red face in her hands, and let out a muffled scream, avoiding eye contact from everyone. The black cat in civilian form had to finally admit that Marinette isn't just a friend after all, though he still has feelings for his bugaboo. Mylene gushed, 'You're so adorable Marinette, relax, Alix's just teasing you,' . Marinette tucked half of her face into the large shirt, breathing deeply into the boy's scent, all the while hiding her flushed face from the others.
Lila is fuming, her neatly detailed plan was all ruin, all because of her jealousy. Putting up her fake act, she can't afford to receive anymore of the accusing glances, and strutted off to gush at Marinette, biting her tongue in disgust.
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It's P.E. The teacher had decided with dodgeball, the most feared yet celebrated sport among the students. What's worse is that she announced the rules to be different. Where one boy and girl were teamed together. But, alas, exceptions were made. The rules were simple, the boys can get hit by the balls, while the girls are to throw the balls, but if the girls do get hit, then the pair is out. Lila, once again lied about her Arthritis acting up again.
The P.E. teacher was, well, you could say a romantic that loves shipping students together. She paired up, of course, the heroes of Paris, Adrien and Marinette, followed by Alya and Nino, Kim and Alix, Max and Sabrina, Mylene and Ivan, Juleka and Rose (the teacher made an exception, Juleka took up the role of the boy, protecting sweet Rose from the rage of dodgeballs.). Poor Nathaniel got paired with Chloe, much to his dismay. Lila's head snapped up, once hearing Adrien and Marinette's name together. She couldn't do anything but just watch as Adrien pulled Marinette to their spot, with Marinette beginning her self-conscious rambles on how she would be slowing Adrien down.
Marinette knew she was clumsy, as the game started, her guilt built up as Adrien shielded her from the incoming balls, with most of them knowing Marinette's high chance of slipping up and tumbling over her own feet. Adrien, with his cat-like reflexes worked perfectly to prevent the balls from hitting his princess.
Lila watched in jealousy, as Adrien grabbed the bluenette's hips, twirling her behind him, not even her anger towards Ladybug can suppress the rage for Marinette inside Lila. Soon, a few pairs were out. Poor Nathaniel had to kneel down to apologize to Chloe when failing to protect her from the incoming ball fired by Alya. Juleka and Rose were soon out, Rose squealing many apologies for not being able to throw the balls correctly, Juleka silencing her with a cheek kiss. Alix and Kim were on fire, aiming to destroy every last one of the pairs. Their latest victims were Max and Sabrina, both laughed a little at their defeat, joining the others to the benches.
Alya and Nino, and Adrien and Marinette, engaged in a little war, where they keep firing balls at each other. Alya mocked the poor clumsy girl poking behind form Adrien's shoulder. 'Come on Mari, look at poor Adrien, he looks bruised all over, are you going to just stand behind him and let him take all the hits by himself?' she high-fived Nino, who just merely chuckled as Adrien shot them an annoyed glance. Marinete grumbled, deciding to let her Ladybug confidence take over her for just this once.
Mylene and Ivan were out soon, when the shorter girl tripped over a ball, causing her to fall, the ball rolling over to Lila's foot. Once Ivan and Mylene were settled on the bench, Alix called out from the center, 'Lila! Could you throw the ball over here?! Me and Kim are going to pulverized those two!' she slammed her palm with her fist, as Kim gathered up the scattered balls. Lila smiled, an idea popping up in her twisted, evil mind. Grabbing the ball, she threw it as hard as she could, but not aiming at the sporty pair, instead, at Marinette, who is wide open for the ball to hit her. Lila made it seem like she missed her aim, as the class watched in horror, the ball merely a few seconds away from Marinette's head.
Adrien's cat senses picked up the ball coming towards Marinette. Reaching one hand to push Marinette behind him by the waist, he blocked the ball with his arm, his glare fixated on Lila. Marinette barely knew what was going on, she stared at the man before her with wide eyes. Lila gritted her teeth, harming Marinette isn't as easy as she thought it would be, as Adrien seems to have appointed himself Marinette's knight in shining armor (knight in shining black leather, to be more precise), but Lila didn't seem to learn her lesson just yet, Adrien had confirmed so himself, the evil glint in Lila's eyes showed that she is stubborn, and not the kind he sees in his lady and Marinette's eyes. Lila smiled apologetically, 'Oops! My Arthritis is acting up again! I hope you're alright Adrien and Marinette!'.
Adrien put on his model facade, 'It's all good Lila, thanks for the ball, now we have extras to defeat the remaining pairs!' he smiled. Kim and Alix scoffed from the center, 'As if!'. The three pairs went through war, Marinette beginning to feel more and more confident during their battle, laughing and throwing balls more frequently. Adrien saw as Marinette giggled, one of her balls hitting Alya's elbow, to which both of them yelled out words of frustration. The sight of her sweaty and laughing reminded him so much of his lady he couldn't help but fall deeper in her spell, he knew he was screwed once he stared into her bluebell eyes that seem to resemble Ladybug so much.
Kim's shout broke Adrien out of his trance, as he looked toward Alix, who is armed and ready to attack them, determined to remain superior in the battlefield of sports. What she didn't know, (but will soon find out when she gets her Miraculous) is that she's facing Paris's beloved badass duo.
As if their Ladybug and Chat Noir senses kicked in, Adrien blocked the ball, Marinette coming out from behind, holding one of the balls. The adrenaline flowing through her veins as she momentarily forgot about everything, focusing only on the target in front of them. Tossing up the ball, she jumped up, her form of hitting the ball reflected through Adrien's pupils. He had forgotten all about everything, admiring the beautiful sight of the girl he had called his "Everyday Ladybug". Marinette drew her right arm back, spiking the ball towards Alix, who her and Kim never expected to see it coming. The entire moments was so fast, the class was in awe. They had seldom gotten to see this side of Marinette, and they had cherished it.
The ball hit Alix's hip, which Kim failed to shield her from the shock he had just received. When Marinette dropped to the ground, Adrien had lifted her up and spun her around, both laughing in victory. The entire class, excluding Lila again, had rushed towards them, celebrating their success, thought Kim and Alix began a playful argument on who wasn't fast enough.
Lila gritted her teeth in anger, her olive eyes squinted in jealousy. The saying of "Jealousy is an ugly thing" is proven to be right. Lila had lost all sense of logic, blinded by jealousy, she wanted Marinette done.
_________
'Still a friend to you kid?' Plagg teased, holding onto his daily dose of camembert, Adrien grumbled into his pillow, muttering 'Are her eyes always this blue? Am i falling in love? What happened to Ladybug? Can you be in love with two at the same time? What's happening to me?' the question flowed out of his mouth. Plagg laughed hysterically, 'Kid, maybe you should try going for pig-tails this time, imagine, all the good bread to go with cheese!'. he gobbled down the smelly cheese. Adrien lift his head to face Plagg, 'You always think with your stomach,'. Plagg shrugged, 'So what are you doing with the sausage girl?' the god of destruction started calling her  that after getting a good look at her hair, he really thought it was sausages hanging from her hair.
'She seems pretty angry today, I think it's only a matter of time before she completely loses it, we'll take the high road for now, I never thought annoying someone could be this fun,' he chuckled. Plagg settled himself onto the boy's bed, 'I guess they can strip off your title as Sunshine Boy,'. Adrien merely chuckled and settled down, staring at the ceiling, sorting out his feelings.
__________
Adrien was right, Lila had lost her temper days after, all her built up lies and threats fall into the ditch. She let her emotions take over and lost everything she once had.
It was during school when some students had extra classes, the Akuma Class had one extra period in Chemistry, as they went to their locker to gather their things for the class.
Lila has had it, she spent the whole day tripping Marinette, even going as far as spreading rumors, and framing her. But it always didn't go her way, if anything it made Marinette more loved, and she had to control herself from pouncing on her when having to watch the class gush on how close the bluenette and blond had gotten. She knew Adrien is preventing everything she is planning, constantly in the right place at the right time, she was furious at Adrien for stopping her. He was suppose to be fawning over her like the other mindless idiots! Seeing the two of them so close together at Marinette's locker, with Marinette leaning back a little to show Adrien something form her sketchbook, the man leaning in a little, his chin almost touching the girl's shoulder. It was such a sickeningly sweet posture that it practically radiates diabetes. Alya had her phone out while the girls gushed over it.
Deciding it was the last straw, and momentarily forgetting the presence of practically the whole class in the locker room. Stomping over to them, she screeched like a spoiled child, or in most people's case, a banshee. 'I have had it with you Dupain-Cheng! You were supposed to be an outcast! Alone! I was supposed to be there next to Adrien! Not you! I didn't plan all of this just for you to get closer to him! Ughh! I hate you!' she screamed it all at a stunned Marinette.
Before Marinette could respond, Lila continued, letting her rage completely take over, 'And you! You're supposed to be fawning over me! Like the mindless idiots in the class! Not going over to her! She's a nobody! What's so great about her anyway! I'm a model! I worked with the famous Gabriel! All she ever does is doodle some ugly designs and bake bread! I'm the one who's worthy of the Agreste name! Me! If you have gotten together with me I would've actually met Jagged Stone and Prince Ali, then I wouldn't  have to lie about this! I wouldn't have to lie about all these stupid diseases and everyone would be flocking over to me! Not this girl you called your "Everyday Ladybug" !' she finished, panting, challenging Adrien, who suddenly had his arm around Marinette, both of them glaring at the brunette.
Lila froze, she looked around her, the entire Akuma class stared at her, shock. Alya had her phone out. Oh no, she messed up, it was all going so well, and she let her anger control her. She now wished for an akuma to take over her already. Quickly thinking of a new excuse, she spoke with a paled face, 'Oh no! I let my disease take over me again! I'm sorry, I swear I didn't mean what I said to Marinette and Adrien! My lying disease had acted up again. Please understand!' she cried out, fake tears streaming down her face.
Alix broke the silence, screaming, 'So Marinette was right all along! You are a liar! I can't believe you!'.
'So uncool Lila!'
'You've been lying all this time! And we thought Marinette was jealous! Oh Poor Marinette!'
'There is a 99.97% chance that there is no such disease Lila,'
'How could you Lila! We would've accepted you just fine when you don't lie!'
Lila's eyes widened, 'N...no guys! It really is a disease! Please! You have to believe me!' she cried out, her face turning as white as a sheet of paper. Nino called out, 'I don't think the word "believe" would suit this conversation right now Lila, you just lied to all of us, and you even framed our dudette Marinette for all those horrible things! That's low!' the DJ shook his head in disappointment.
Lila's shocked expression morphed into something uglier, anger, turning around, she screamed at Marinette, 'It's all your fault! If you weren't in the way! I would've been in the spotlight! I hate you! You're nothing but a nuisance in our lives! I wish you were gone! I don't get what Adrien sees in you!' she was about to scream more when she flinched at the sound of a fist against the locker door. Looking to wards the source, she was greeted by the hovering figure of one Adrien Agreste, his fist still remaining against the metal material of the locker, his eyes, acid-green, glinting dangerously at her, 'Shut up Lila,' he growled, something that the others were not aware that he could create.
'W..what?' Lila was speechless. Adrien spoke up in a low voice, 'I said shut up, you don't get to talk about our "Everyday Ladybug" like that, nor do you have the privilege. I like her, you want to know why? Because unlike you, Marinette doesn't go lying about everything, and she actually works hard to achieve her dreams. She actually met Jagged Stone, but she didn't brag it all out like you, she's humble, she's kind, and she puts other's needs before herself, and, Rossi, that is why Marinette would always be a thousand times more better than you. I'm not stupid Rossi, I know you've been spying on my on behalf of my dad, you manipulated him to get closer to him, so don't go spouting all that nonsense of you wanting the best for me, you don''t care about me, you just want my last name, and I despise people like you. So don't talk about my princess like that, is that clear?' he finished. Marinette's eyes lit up at the mention of her nickname. Only one person has ever called me princess, she flushed red at the realization.
Adrien is Chat Noir!
I've been rejecting him for him!
And he just openly confessed to me, if this is a dream don't wake me up?
Lila's eyes were wide, she didn't seem to hear the "Since when did you call Marinette princess?!" from Alya behind her, all she could focus was the fact that her future would be ruin, all the fame and fortune she ever dreamed off, gritting her teeth, she pointed towards him, showing her true colors at last, 'Really?! You don't know what I'm capable of Agreste, I could get you out of school with just a few of my words! Your father wouldn't even know what's coming! Ha! Do you think I really liked you?! You're just a stepping stone towards my popularity! And here I thought you were perfect?! If it weren't for your last name then I would've just turn you into one of my minions!'
Adrien's eyes reflected hurt, he hated being recognized only for his name, it makes him think that all he's ever good for is his name, not what he truly is. Lila noticed this, sneering, she mocked, 'What Agreste, you're going to hurt me? Slap me? Think before you act blondie, I can tarnish your reputation by reporting that you, a boy, hit me, a delicate woman, imagine what would the press think of you?' she cackled.
Marinette has had it, no one, and she means no one, talks to her precious kitty like that! Drawing her hand back, she slapped the girl across her face cleanly. Lila stumbled back, while everyone widened their eyes at the force coming from the petite girl. The Italian touched her now red cheek, anger rising quickly, how dare that peasant slap her! Before she could take it out, Marinette beat her to it, and the force of her voice caused everyone to silence themselves immediately.
'Adrien can't hit you, but I can! How dare you! You witch! Using Adrien and my friends like that as your pawns! They're not some dolls you can control! Can't you see you're hurting them! I would've tolerate you if you target me only! But you're the kind that thinks of yourself as some goddess or ruler, that you're above us all! Manipulating us, lying to us! You really are the worst of the worst! Adrien knew you were lying, but being the sweet and kind person he is he gave you chance for you to change, but what did you do?! You used this kindness to your advantage! Adrien isn't some kind of trophy for you to hang around your arm! He's a real person who just wants to live a normal life, instead people like you used him, turned him into some kind of eye candy! Can't you see he needs emotional support?! He needs someone there for him, his father is always busy and he just lost his mother! He's hurting inside, and you don't even acknowledge that fact! Well let me tell you this Lila, we are not minions who you can control! You will either apologize to them or stay an outcast! Unlike Adrien, I am not that kind to let you off the hook!' Marinette finished, out of breath.
Adrien stared at the girl, the sight of her standing up to him almost made his eyes water, she's simply the most amazing girl he met besides Ladybug, he wondered to himself on how he didn't notice this goddess of a woman before.The confidence, the voice, the posture, it reminded him so much of his lady, he had never fallen more harder than ever for a girl, not even Ladybug crossed his mind as his eyes only ever saw Marinette Dupain-Cheng right now.
Lila had her eyes wide open once again, she was pale, and everyone could almost hear a whimper escaping her lips. The class stared at Marinette, their class president is incredible! The liar had to mutter a small apology half-heartedly and ran out, ashamed and embarrassed.
The situation was so tense they were surprise an akuma didn't appear already. Alix cut it off with a wolf-whistle, Alya shoved her phone towards Nino and ran towards Marinette, 'Girl that was so awesome! You're so amazing! Just like Ladybug!' she hugged the half-Asian. Soon after the rest of the girls joined, thanking Marinette. Everyone just stood there thanking their beloved class president, well, almost everyone, Adrien still had that lovesick gaze on her, which did not go unnoticed by Alya.
The Ladyblogger placed her hands on her hips, smirking teasingly, 'So, Sunshine Boy, what's all this about liking my girl Marinette and calling her princess? Isn't she "just a friend"?' she quoted. Adrien snapped out of his trance, face burning red as he stammered some quiet words out, covering his face. Rose squealed, 'You do like Marinette! Oh it's so romantic on how you defended each other! You're just like Ladybug and Chat Noir!'. The rest of the class nodded in approval. 'It's like they're the civilian versions of Paris's superheroes!' Mylene giggled.
Both Marinette and Adrien took this as a suspicion on their superhero identities, flushing red, they held their hands up and denied everything in panic. Their friends laughed at the two's reaction, 'You two really are made for each other! Just kiss already!' Alix called out, fist bumping Kim in the process. They flushed red again, as Chloe called out, 'Ugh! As if I'm seeing those two lock lips! Sabrina! Let's go! We're late for Chemistry!'  she snapped her fingers, beckoning the girl to follow her. The class gasped in surprise, they were approximately 15 minutes late for their class! Yells of surprise were heard and within seconds the locker room was empty, except for the bluenette and blond.
'Adrien? Did you really mean what you said earlier?' Marinette bit her lip, looking down at the ground shyly. The blonde lifted the girl's chin up slowly, in a soft voice, he spoke, 'Yes, I really like you Marinette, and I realized I had been for awhile, you're the most amazing girl I've ever met, and I have been pretty blind for not noticing such a wonderful girl in front of me, I'll be delighted if you'll return my feelings,' he gave her a shy smile. Marinette would've exploded, but she bear the thought that the man in front of her was her partner, the one that had been in love with her alter-ego for so long, confessed to her twice, and her heart swelled at the feeling. 'Of course Adrien, you have no idea how long I've been in love with you, and yes, you have been pretty blind to not notice,' she giggled at the last part. 'We'll talk about this later, okay? We're both really late for class,' Marinette began to leave, but Adrien stopped her to thank her once again.
'Marinette, i just want to thank you for standing up to me, it really means a lot to me, You're really amazing you know that?' he added the last part with a soft smile, one that the spotter-hero had seen frequently on a certain feline-hero. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck shyly, Marinette smiled, 'It's alright Adrien, plus,' she leaned towards his ear, whispering the last part clearly, 'I couldn't let her bad-mouthed my chaton that way, could I?' giggled quietly to herself, she walked out, not before shooting a quick wink towards the model.
Adrien stood there, frozen. Did she just call me? Only one person calls me that. No, it cant be. I can't be that lucky. Then, if she says she's been in love with me for awhile, then that means, she rejected me, for me?  Piecing the puzzles together, he came to a conclusion: Marinette is Ladybug. Why wouldn't she be? they're both brave, courageous, kind and Adrien had to say, extremely gorgeous. Hearing Plagg stifle a laughter inside his pocket, his suspicions were correct. He's the holder of the black cat Miraculous, the literal owner of the God of destruction and bad luck, how could he be this lucky?
Smiling in a lovesick way, he promised to himself that once the pig-tailed girl was his, he would never let her go, not ever again.
(This is just a one-shot to giving our heroes some justice, absolutely no Lila hate)
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Five Minutes
Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader
Summary: Five minutes is all it takes for Y/N to disappear
Warning: Kidnapping
Word Count: 1,717
A/N: I’m back! This is only part one!
Part Two HERE!   Part Three HERE!  Part Four HERE!  Part Five HERE!  Part Six HERE!
Master List HERE     Permanent Tag List HERE
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“Where are you?” he questioned. You could imagine him sitting on his couch, popcorn and drinks laid out on the coffee table. He’d be bouncing his leg, fighting the urge to go check out his window to see if he could spot you. He was usually a patient man, but you’d both been looking forward to this evening.
You’d been travelling from state-to-state with little downtime for the past two months but finally, Hotch had given the team a complete weekend off. You and Spencer had quickly made plans to spend Saturday evening together at his apartment, he’d brought the latest Marvel film which you’d both been dying to watch.
 It was something which had bonded you both when you had first joined the team. As the newest, and youngest, member of the team, you had felt like the odd-one-out for a time. However, two months into your new job, Spencer had caught sight of a Marvel trailer on your phone which you were watching on the jet home. It had opened up a conversation which had led to you both find out that your interests were very similar.
 Through your growing connection with Spencer, you had become to feel more comfortable with the team. You’d started speaking to the other members more, even Derek, who had made you nervous at the beginning because of his muscles. He gave off the impression that he could crush you like a bug but once you got to know him, he was a sweetheart.
 While you had grown extremely close with the girls of the team, you still considered Spencer as one of your closest friends. Okay, that was a lie. Though you would never tell anyone, you harboured a crush of the resident ‘Pretty Boy’. It hadn’t formed straight away. You’d been friends for years, but then slowly, butterflies started to form in your stomach.
 When he would smile at you, your sides would tingle. When he’d laugh at something stupid that you had said, your insides would warm. On the occasion where he sought comfort and you hug you, you would feel like you could breathe – but in a good way.
 “I’m almost there, I’m just outside Little Istanbul” you told him, your eyes peaking into the little restaurant.
“Istanbul actually isn’t that small. It spans five-thousand three hundred and forty-three square kilometres and has a population of approximately fifteen million people. Of those approximately fifteen million people, sixty-four-point nine percent live on the European side of the city, with thirty-five point one living on the Asian side” Spencer tells you.
“Nerd” you snort playfully, rolling your eyes.
“It’s general knowledge, Y/N, unlike the knowledge you hold about The Little Mermaid” he counters, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
“That film is a classic and the songs are a gift” you are quick to defend with a small laugh. “Anyway, I’m nearly there. I’ll see you in a few.”
 You quickly say your goodbyes before tucking your phone into your pocket. It was nearing half-six and the streetlights were just turning on, casting a hazy orange glaze over the sidewalk. It was a nice night, a cool breeze blowing through the early autumn night. The streets were mostly bare, which was odd but not all-together strange. It was peaceful.
 You turned right, onto a small side road which acted as a short cut to Spencer’s apartment. The street was only about one-hundred yards, with two streetlights which lit nearly the whole road, apart from the small section in the middle.
 The little street is almost empty, little laying in a small pile off to the side. A person walks down the road towards you, headphones in their eyes as their head bops to their music, their hands in their pockets. He doesn’t acknowledge you as you pass, just continues pass and you continue on your way.
 Your just about to exit the little street when an arm wraps around your waist, a cloth covering your mouth and nose as your pulled backwards.
 __
  Spencer looked at his watch again. It had been nearly ten minutes since he had gotten off the phone with Y/N and she still hadn’t arrived. Little Istanbul was only five minutes from his apartment, so she should have been here by now.
 He pulled out his phone, quickly selecting Y/N’s contact and calling her. He went to the window, pulling back the curtain to look outside. The street was clear, apart from a single car which drove a little two quickly. Spencer turned away, letting the curtain full closed as he focused on the phone call.
 The phone continued to ring but Y/N didn’t answer, and the phone went to voicemail. He tried again, and again, but still, there was no answer. Why wasn’t she answering. Maybe she had dropped her phone, she always kept it in her jeans pocket. Surely she would have noticed though, right? And if she hadn’t noticed, she would still already be here by now.
 Spencer wasn’t sure what he should do. Y/N hadn’t arrived, and she wasn’t answering her phone. should he go and look for her? But what if she turned up just as he left? Well, he said to himself, she would just wait at the door or let herself in, I did give her an emergency key.
 Spencer strode towards the door, bending at the waist to pull his shoes on. Shrugging on a light jacket, he grabbed his keys and his phone, and left the apartment.
 It didn’t take long for Spencer to reach the side road near his apartment but when he did, he stopped. There on the floor, was Y/N phone. She had made it this far. As he looked up from the floor, turning to look behind him and towards his apartment, he froze. There, on the wall under a eerie glow, was a smidge of blood.
 Normally, Spencer wouldn’t have been worried seeing that. It was a street, sometimes people would knock into the wall or get into fights. However, he had walked down this road earlier and the blood hadn’t been there. Y/N’s phone was also on the floor, though there was no sign of her. His eyes scanned the floor again and caught sight of a piece of cloth caught of a small bush.
 Something wasn’t right. Separately, these things wouldn’t be concerning. However, Spencer had a feeling that something had happened, that something had gone wrong. Y/N was missing, that was all there is to it. He had walked to the street, taking the path she would have had to in order to get to his apartment, but hadn’t passed her. She was gone.
 He quickly pulled out his phone, pressing number three on the speed dial. It rang for a moment before connecting and Spencer didn’t allow the other person to talk. “I think somethings happened to Y/N.” “Reid?” Hotch asks. “What happened, what do you mean?”
“She was meant to come watch a movie but didn’t turn up, I spoke to her when she was five minutes away. I waited, to see if she was running late but she didn’t turn up” Spencer began to explain. “I traced the same path she would have used, and I found her phone in an alley. There’s a blood on the wall and a cloth nearby… I think maybe she was taken… something just doesn’t feel right.”
-
 Spencer sat at the conference table, his leg bouncing as the rest of the team came into the room. Each member took their seats, none of them looking particularly happy to have been called back to work early.
 “Where’s Y/N?” Emily asked, looking around the table.
Hotch glanced at Spencer before addressing the team, “Y/N’s missing. She was meant to visit Spencer but never turned up, instead, her phone was found in a side road, along with blood. A cloth was found near by and we’ve put a rush on that. The lab has made an early guess of it being chloroform…”
“What? When was this?” Derek asked, sitting up straight in his chair.
“Two hours ago,” Hotch replied.
“And you’ve only just called us, what the hell, Hotch?” Derek said, pushing to his feet in anger.
Hotch ignored Derek, turning to address the other members of the team, “Prentiss, take JJ and check Y/N’s flat. We don’t know if someone’s been following her. There might be something there if someone was. Derek, I want you and Rossi to go back to the side road, see if you can see anything we missed. Reid and I will start mapping out Y/N friends and family, anyone she could have come into contact with lately. Garcia’s already started looking through security cameras.”
 The team separated, each member going to complete their separate tasks.
 -
 You woke up feeling dizzy and your stomach rolled. You groaned, fighting off the wave of nausea. You laid still for a few more minutes, waiting for your stomach to calm down. The dizziness passed but your stomach still felt off, you ignored it though as you blinked your eyes open.
 You blinked a few times, your surroundings slowly starting to come into focus. The room you’re in is dark and damp, you can feel the moisture in the air as you breathe. The walls are solid concrete, the floor a matching grey and it take a moment for your brain to catch up and for you to realise you’re in a basement.
 In front of you are bars and when you look to your left, then right, there are bars there too. You don’t have the energy in you to turn over, but you would guess that there are bars behind you too. You were in a cage, like an animal.
 Your brain struggled to make sense of what was going on around you, still foggy from whatever had knocked you out. You laid on the floor of the cage, willing your brain to clear but the fog continued to cloud your brain, making it feel like it was full of cotton wall.
 Your eyes closed as you were unable to fight to keep them open. You felt yourself drifting away but as you went, you could have sworn you heard a lock turn… 
Permanent Tag List: @sskhair​ @sammypotato67​
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luffles424 · 4 years
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Lucidity (8)
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☼ Pairing: BTS x reader (this chap is Taehyung x reader ft. Yoongi!)
☼ Genre: vampire!BTS, succubus!reader, smut, fluff, angst
☼ Count: 4.9K
☼ Warnings: 18+, mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, grinding, some nipple play, big dick Tae (duh), guided sex, dom/sub undertones, voyuerism, exhibitionism, implied male masturbation, slight choking, lots of kissing, dirty talk, creampie
☼ Summary: You’ve spent years jumping from country to country, starting countless new lives. Crafting new lives is as easy as breathing for you, lies flowing easily and people are charmed with a simple bat of your eyes. When you meet a witch who offers the idea of opening a supernatural club, using your powers combined with hers to ensure safety to those who enter, you decide to join her in an adventure that is entirely new to you. But your new life in Seoul is drastically changed when you’re forced to face something you’ve spent centuries hiding from. But just because you might be running for your life again doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun along the way, right?
☼ a/n: I’m sorry this took a while! But the truth is coming! Next chap will be a flashback! As always, let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙
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You don’t know how long you run for. You feel well and truly like you’re drunk for the first time in centuries as the city blurs around you. Only you don’t get to enjoy the dizzying feeling, instead the lightheadedness makes it harder to navigate, tripping over your feet as you stumble, aimless in your journey to just get away. You know you can’t go home, she’ll just track you there. And while no one else lives on the same floor as you, there are plenty of people in the building, some who are very nice and you’d hate to put them in harm's way. You do your best to double back and make your trail as confusing as possible. But all the doubling back in the world will still eventually lead to her finding you. You duck through some still populated areas, trying to avoid the curious looks of the more sober people that trail over your bleeding figure. 
This is the longest you’ve ever been bleeding for. But your energy is completely spent, everything is going to just keep you upright and moving, nothing left to spare for healing. The sun is beginning to peak over the horizon and you know you need to get off the street. While people wouldn’t stop you this late at night with your injuries, people in the morning surely would. 
You find yourself in front of a building, tall and pristine. It takes you a moment to realize where you are and you almost want to scoff that of all places, you came here. You hadn’t even realized that you’d traveled so far. You hear a howl in the distance, she must be awake. You thought you had more time. Panic siezes you and you ignore how dumb of an idea this is and quickly make your way inside, navigating the halls to the familiar frosted glass door, pounding on the frame like Taria is already there. 
The door is wretched open after a long moment, Yoongi’s face twisted in annoyance before quickly morphing into surprise at the sight of you. Before he can say anything, you’re shoving him back into the room and spinning to slam the door shut. You pant as you lean against it, heartbeat pounding your eardrums as you try to reason that you’re safe for the moment. When you pull away, there’s a smeared, bloody handprint left behind. How much blood had you trailed around the city without noticing?
“Y/n?” He sounds so concerned. “Hang on, let me call Jin-”
You turn to face him, eyes frantic. “No! Don’t do that! Please you can’t, don’t let them know I’m here. This was a dumb idea anyway. I needed somewhere safe and this is just where I ended up. I-”
You stop as your gaze lands on the other body in the room. The one you hadn’t even noticed at first. Taehyung. You just really can’t catch a break. “Fuck. Shit, I’m just gonna…” You turn immediately, hand already attempting to open the door again, but the blood causes your grip to slip. 
Yoongi’s arms wrap around your middle and he lifts you away easily. You try not to think about just how easily he moved you. You weakly try to fight against him, but it only serves to exhaust you further. You sag in his arms and just try to breath. 
Yoongi pats your head gently, shushing you. You didn’t even realize you were whimpering. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Taehyung knows already. Jimin told him. It’s okay.”
You fight for another moment, you should leave. But ultimately your injuries catch up to you and you feel consciousness slowly slipping from your grasp. Now that you’re not actively running or fearing for your life, your exhaustion crashes over you and before Yoongi can say more, you pass out. 
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“Hyung… What are we gonna do?” Taehyung’s voice is quiet as Yoongi gently lays you out on the towels Taehyung placed on the couch.
Yoongi looks down at you, brushing some of your hair from your face. He sighs. “I don’t know. We have to wait for her to wake up. But given how beat up she is, that might be a while.”
“Are we really not going to tell the others?” 
“Not right now. We’ll wait for her to get up first. Find out what happened. Then we can decide from there.” Yoongi turns to look at him. “In the meantime, I have some spare clothes in my locker in the practice room, can you go grab those and some extra towels and water.” He glances at you before tacking on, “And the first aid kit. Drop those off with me and then go pick up some food? She’ll probably be hungry when she gets up.”
Taehyung looks like he wants to say more, but finally he nods, slipping out of the room quietly. 
Yoongi’s gaze slowly trails over you, taking in the extent of your injuries, at least what he can see without cleaning the blood off of you. There’s a ring of bruises around your neck, shaped suspiciously like a hand. More bruising covers your jaw, along with a thin line of split skin than has left a thin trail of red down your neck. Most of the exposed skin of your right arm and thigh are covered in the criss cross scraps of road rash and it’s coated both extremities and a good portion of your clothing wet with blood. Your palms share a similar fate, the heels of them holding the brunt of the damage. 
Yoongi wonders how angry you’ll be if he rips up your clothes to get them off of you but decides that he’ll just buy you new ones if you complain. He steps closer, trying to carefully tear the clothing so he can remove it from your body without jostling you too much. He knows you’re out cold, but he doesn’t want to risk anything at all possibly waking you when all you need it rest. 
He’s just stripped the last of your clothes from you, tossing the ruined things into a plastic bag when Taehyung returns. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he sees your undressed state, gaze quickly averting as he thrusts the requested items in Yoongi’s direction. Yoongi takes them, setting them on the coffee table. He catches Taehyung before he can retreat once more, handing him the bag of bloodied items.
“Can you destroy this too? Don’t need it getting found or sniffed out.”
Taehyung gives Yoongi a little salute and then is back out the door to carry out the rest of his duties. Yoongi pulls the coffee table closer to the couch and you and perches on the edge. Taking one of the hand towels that Taehyung had grabbed and the water, he begins slowly and carefully wiping the blood from your body. It takes longer than he expects, the irritation causing a few wounds to begin bleeding again. But once the layer of grime is cleaned from your body, Yoongi sees more bruises on your stomach and sides and he’s sure there’s probably some on your back as well. Just what had happened to you?
He dabs ointment onto the worst of the wounds, hoping it helps a little until you can feed properly and heal up. He takes a few aspirin from the med kit as well setting them beside the glass of water that waits for you. 
Staring at his clothes, he wonders if he should even bother putting them on you. They’re certainly baggy enough, but putting them on would require a lot of movement and he doesn’t want to jostle you more than necessary. But then he thinks of times he’s woken up injured and in an unfamiliar place, vulnerability already high even if he was near someone he knew. He would want to be clothed. He carefully slips his shirt onto you, which proves much more difficult given your unconsciousness. His shorts are much easier to slip on you. 
You look peaceful, so still actually that Yoongi panics for a minute thinking you’ve died and he presses his ear to your chest just to reaffirm the thumping in the air is your slow heartbeat and not someone else’s in the building. All his time on this planet, and you are by far the most enchanting, frustrating, and mysterious creature he’s ever met. He can only hope that you’ll allow him and Taehyung to help you. That you won’t push them away again. But for now, all he can do is wait for Taehyung to return and for you to wake up.
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The first thing you feel when you regain consciousness is pain, radiating from multiple points on your body and you wish you had stayed unconscious instead. Sleep sounds so much preferable to trying to take inventory of what hurts and why. But now that you’re slightly more aware of your surroundings, the smell of food invades your senses and your stomach gives a loud grumble. You hear talking, though your half asleep state keeps the words from filtering through and making sense, and then there’s the soft click as a door is shut. 
It’s quiet for a moment before someone speaks. “I know you’re awake and I know you’re hungry. You need to take something for the pain anyway.” Yoongi murmurs, kneeling down next to you. 
You groan and peek one eye open to glance at him, noting the way his face is twisted with worry. Guilt twists your stomach that you’ve made a problem for him. He slips a hand beneath your head as he helps you carefully sit up then he’s turning to pick up a glass of water and some pills, offering the pills to you before helping you with the water. You gulp down as much as you can before Yoongi is gingerly pulling it away, an amused smile on his face. 
He sets the glass on the table and your gaze is drawn to the food and you suddenly feel ravenous. Yoongi hands you one of the containers. 
“You can eat. I know you’re probably hungry after whatever happened.” 
You eye him skeptically for a moment before you begin eating, quickly wolfing down one container before moving onto the next. You don’t even realize Taehyung has returned until you’ve finished most of the food, belly full almost to the point of hurting, but it at least gives your body enough energy to sit up straight without help. You look between the two of them as you drink some more water. You think you remember Yoongi mentioning Taehyung knew before you passed out, but most of your time post fight is a haze. But the fact that Taehyung is here and not upset at Yoongi or your presence means he knows something at least. 
They share a look before Yoongi speaks. “So what did happen?”
You swallow, waving the question off. “Oh, it’s fine. There was just a thing at the club. No big deal.”
Yoongi blinks at you, incredulous. “You can’t be serious? Nothing that could’ve possibly happened at the club could’ve wiped you out this much. You were practically dead when you got here. That’s not just something as simple as a ‘club thing.’ What happened?”
You look from Yoongi to Taehyung. You don’t know what, maybe you’re hoping that he’ll back you up despite having never met you formally. But he just looks at you with pleading eyes. You want to continue to deny what happened but you know that they won’t give up until you tell them the truth. And you’re too tired to try to fight it anyway. 
You sigh, head dropping back against the couch. “I was attacked. By this werewolf that I had a run in with a long time ago. I guess she thought I had died and that she didn’t need to deal with me herself. She came to Seoul to visit someone and caught wind that I’m still alive. She’s been hunting me down since.”
It’s silent for far too long and when you glance at the two men, they’re exchanging worried glances. Your gut churns with even more guilt. You shouldn’t have come here, no matter how exhausted you were. You’ve put them in danger, worse you didn’t even know until now that they had been in danger. Maybe you should’ve been the one to listen to Namjoon. You really do just hurt everyone you care for. You can’t read their expressions, but you have a feeling about what’s coming so you make it easier for them and push yourself from the couch. 
You wobble for a second and they’re both quick to rise and reach out to steady you, hands so gentle that you can feel tears well in your eyes. “Look I’m sorry for coming here. I didn’t mean to put you guys in danger. I’ll get out of here and draw her away. So you guys will be fine.”
You manage to take only one unsteady step before hands are wrapping around each wrist and you look back to see each of them holding one. 
“I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, but you’re wrong. We’re worried about you and your safety. You can barely stand. You should not be out on the streets where she can find you.” Yoongi tugs gently but you refuse to move, though you both know that he could easily pull you back right now. 
You turn to look at Taehyung, who’s been quiet the whole time. He tilts his head before he tugs your arm as well until you finally give in and fall back against the couch. You don’t think you could’ve stood for much longer anyway. Taehyung’s hand slides down to encompass yours.
“What do you need?” He asks softly.
You shift uncomfortably. You need to feed. But you can’t possibly ask that of them. You’ve already asked too much as is. You wave him off. “I’m fine. Just a little more rest and I’ll be fine.” You feel so human and vulnerable right now. Being this weak around someone else would normally have you crawling in your skin, aching to get away and take care of yourself but somehow, with them, you feel safe. 
Yoongi looks unconvinced. “When was the last time you fed?”
You purse your lips in thought. “Not too long ago. Few days maybe?” When Yoongi looks like he’s going to argue, you continue. “I swear, it was really recent. But the fight… Fuck have you ever fought a werewolf? Look I’m not built to fight much of anything, let alone a werewolf who knows how to counter the few things that are at my disposal. It took everything in me to just get away. It just…” you sigh and run a hand through your hair as you close your eyes. “Drained me.”
The couch beside you dips and when you peek an eye open, you see Taehyung has sat down, close enough that your thighs brush together. He seems to hesitate for only a moment before you see something switch in him.
“Feed from me.”
You blink at him, unsure if you heard him correctly and turn to see if Yoongi is going to object or… something, you don’t know what. But Yoongi’s face is frustratingly neutral as he gazes back at you. You turn back to Taehyung and his face is firm as his hand lands on your thigh and squeezes. 
He leans closer, until your lips are just an inch apart and his eyes hold their intense gaze on yours. You swallow, suddenly overwhelmed by his scent. His eyes flicker between yours and his breath ghosts across your face as he speaks. 
“Aren’t you hungry, little demon?” 
Your breath hitches and you struggle with rational thought. All you want to do with his invitation is sit on his cock and feast. Arousal wafts off of him as he smirks and it’s making your head hazy, all thoughts not about devouring him leaving you. You try to fight it, but you’re so drained that it’s hard to resist such a pretty, willing boy. You finally resolve to wipe the smirk clean off his face; he has no idea what he’s in for.
You close the small distance, pressing your lips to his and tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him close as you lick at his lips, moaning as you feel yourself already slowly gaining energy. Pushing him back to sit flush against the couch, he goes willingly, hands digging into your thighs to help you as you plant yourself in his lap. You’re quick to lick into his mouth, chasing the small sparks of pleasure that feed and energize you. You feel slightly delirious and it takes all of your willpower not to just feed right now. But you know if you do it with his cock buried in you, on the brink of orgasm, that it’ll be so much better. More potent and sweet. The thought makes your toes curl. Taehyung already tastes so sweet. 
Taehyung seems perfectly content to let you take what you want and manipulate him as you please. You grind down, delighted to find how hard he is beneath you already and you continue to shift your hips against him, drawing small whines and groans from his throat. Wanting to draw more of those delicious noises from him, you slip your hands beneath this shirt, nails drawing lighty up his belly till they rest on the swell of his chest. Your pussy drips in your borrowed shorts as Taehyung’s hands slip beneath the fabric to squeeze at the bare skin of your thighs. 
You’re so absorbed in the kiss and the feel of him beneath your hands that it’s not until you hear the creak of a chair that you remember the two of you are not alone. Yoongi. You pull reluctantly from Taehyung’s lips and you have to quickly drag your gaze from how kiss swollen they look lest you just dive back in. Instead you shift enough to find Yoongi, slouched down in his chair and legs spread. He almost looks bored with the way his head is propped up on his hand, but the heat in his gaze and the slight tent in his pants give away his interest in what’s unfolding before him. 
When your eyes meet, he smirks. “Don’t let me interrupt, babygirl.” You go to speak but he gives you a small shake of his head and continues. “Why don’t you focus on Taehyungie, hm? Show him what he’s been missing out on.” His eyes flit behind you to Taehyung and then land back on you. “I’ll just enjoy the show.”
You hesitate for only a moment more, but Yoongi’s quirk of an eyebrow finally has you turning back to Taehyung. His gaze is dark and there’s a smirk stretching his lips once again. Well that certainly won’t do.
“Jiminie had high praise for you, you know.” He murmurs. 
You return his smirk with one of your own, leaning close until your lips just brush his. “Is that so? Do you want to see if I live up to that praise?”
Taehyung’s hands tangle in your hair, pulling your lips firmly against his with a groan. You shift closer, chest pressed to his and resume grinding, pulling the sweetest whines from his throat. 
His hands slip beneath your borrowed shirt, sliding up your belly until they cup your breasts. He kneads at the flesh, drawing a moan from you. You tear yourself away from his mouth, tugging the shirt from your body. Taehyung’s eyes drop to where his hands are, slipping down slightly so his fingers can play with your nipples. 
You hum at the feeling, head falling back as the pleasure-pain shoots through you. Warmth envelopes a nipple, Taehyung teasing the bud with his teeth. You tangle your hands in his hair, encouraging him to continue his suckling, his tongue warm and gentle countering the sharpness of his teeth. He switches to the other, laving the same attention to the bud. 
You tug at his hair, drawing a whine from his throat and he pulls away to capture your lips in another kiss. You let him, enjoying the way his tongue slips into your mouth, the way his hands flit around to touch every inch of skin they can. The longer you kiss, the less your body aches, but you know you need more.
You slip off Taehyung’s lap, quickly working to shove the shorts down your legs. “Strip.”
Taehyung works just as fast, tugging his shirt over his head and shoving his sweats down his legs. Yoongi chuckles as his frantic movements. 
“Eager, Taehyungie?” he coos. 
Taehyung glares at him but before he can respond, you cup his cheeks, effectively pulling his attention back to you. 
“I like them eager,” you peck him on the lips as you slide back into his lap, grinding your bare cunt against his cock. 
Taehyung gasps at the feeling of your wet pussy sliding along his length causing his hips to buck against you. His cock is thick and long and pretty. Everything about Taehyung is just so pretty. Under more normal circumstances, you’d love to feel the stretch of your jaw as you sucked him down, to take your time to work you both up and make you both mad with need. But that will have to wait till there’s more time. All you can focus on right now is having his dick inside of you as you suck the pleasure from him. 
You giggle. “Eager and big. My favorite.”
You reach down, hand wrapping tight around Taehyung’s cock as you position him at your entrance before sliding down his cock until your hips are flush. You moan as he stretches you. It feels perfect. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your hips.
“Holy fuck.”
“How’s she feel, Taehyungie?”
Taehyung groans beneath you, hips flexing like he wants to move but is waiting for you first. “Good. So good, hyung… She’s so wet and tight.”
You grin down at him. “It’s about to get better.”
With that, you lift your hips until just the tip of his cock remains in you and then you drop yourself back down. You start a fast pace, thighs protesting almost immediately but now that Taehyung is inside of you, that’s all you can focus on. His feet shift, planting firmer on the ground so he can meet each of your thrusts. 
“Play with her tits too, Tae. You want her to cum, don’t you?”
Taehyung nods, hands abandoning your hips to cup your breasts. His fingers tug at your nipples, pleasure coursing through your veins. You grip the back of the couch, grinding yourself on his cock. Yoongi groans behind you as he watches, the creak of the chair preceding the slick sound of skin on skin. 
“Is Taehyungie being good, babygirl?”
You nod. “He’s so good. Fills me up so well. So close already.”
“That so? You wanna cum, babygirl?” You nod frantically, working your hips faster and Yoongi chuckles. “Play with her clit, Tae. Make her cum around your cock.”
Taehyung follows the order immediately, fingers slipping between your folds to pinch your clit before circling the bud. 
“Come on babygirl, cum for us. Isn’t Taehyungie being so good?”
You shudder, Taehyung’s fingers picking up speed as he leans forward to let his teeth graze your nipple. You moan his name, back arching as the coil in your belly snaps and your pussy convulses around his cock. The world goes fuzzy for a moment as euphoric bliss floods your body. Taehyung chokes on a noise, fingers continuing to work your clit to draw your orgasm out. 
Your hands dig into his hair, pulling his head back as you lean in to press your mouth to his. Taehyung tastes potent. So on edge that desperation clings to the edges, sweetening him up even more. He’s so addicting. You lick the seam of his lips as your hips rock against him. 
“Cum for me baby,” you murmur against his lips, pairing the command with a dirty twist of your hips. 
It only takes a few more grinds before Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin to the point of pain and a muffled moan pressed to your lips as he begins to fill you. You kiss him harder, finally letting yourself feed freely from him, his orgasm making him taste divine. He remains hard as you feed, no chance at a break as you draw his pleasure out almost torturously as you continue you to grind against him. You feel his cock twitch within you as he squirms beneath you in oversensitivity. You barely register the wetness of tears as they hit your hand, consumed as you are in the bliss you’re taking in.  
He whines against your lips as you feel vitality fill you, your aches disappearing as you begin to move more frantically against him. His nails dig into your skin and with a smothered cry, he cums again, cock twitching feebly as it dribbles more cum into your stuffed pussy. 
A hand wraps around your throat and you’re pulled away from Taehyung’s lips with a gasp. Your grind and then there’s a small squeeze that leaves you shuddering as another orgasm rips through you. The hand on your throat tugs you a little further away from Taehyung’s face and you tilt your head back to look up at Yoongi through hooded eyes.
“That’s enough, babygirl.”
You squeeze your eyes closed, taking a deep breath to try to ground yourself. Right, you only needed to feed enough to help start healing. You can’t drain Taehyung. You don’t want to get him anywhere near that and have the possibility of him turning feral. You feel a twinge of guilt when you think about how you hadn’t wanted to stop. Opening your eyes again, you glance at Taehyung. His head is tilted back against the couch as he stares up at the ceiling with hazy eyes. You hadn’t even realized how far you had gone. You’re glad Yoongi was here. God you haven’t done something like that on accident since- 
“Do you feel better, babygirl?” Yoongi asks, cutting your spiraling thoughts off before they can get worse. 
You nod and let Yoongi help you off of Taehyung’s lap and back onto the couch. 
“Jimin did not prepare me for that.” Taehyung mutters and Yoongi laughs, patting his head. 
“Imagine if she was at full strength, Tae.”
Taehyung whines, flopping down onto the couch. “Please don’t make me think about that. I can’t get hard again. I will actually die or my dick will fall off.”
Silence descends and you gather your borrowed clothes as Taehyung tugs his sweats back on. “I should probably go.” 
Yoongi gives you a flat look. “Will you stop that?”
Your lips twitch as you get dressed and shake your head. “You’ve already done so much. I don’t want to put you anymore in danger.”
Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and then he pushes you towards the couch again. “Sit.” When you don’t move, something dark crosses his face. “Sit. Down.”
You swallow and quickly sit down, you’ve never heard Yoongi like that before. You can’t tell if he’s angry or just really frustrated. Either way, you don’t want to see it get worse. His look is already intimidating. You’re nervous about where this might be going. But he’s done so much for you, the least you can do is sit and listen. 
“What happened between you and Namjoon?”
You tilt your head. That’s a little unexpected. You figured this would’ve been more about Taria or why you’ve distanced yourself from them all. “Well… You know the answer to that already, don’t you?”
Yoongi sighs and sits on the coffee table in front of you. You feel a little bit like a child being reprimanded now. “We know Namjoon’s side. We want to know yours.”
You look from Yoongi to Taehyung, who gives you a kind, encouraging smile despite the fact that he still looks completely fucked out. You look back at Yoongi, resigned. “You’re not going to give up until I tell you, are you?” He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. You sigh. “Fine.”
You lean back, letting the memories you’ve tried to keep buried for centuries come back. “Me and Namjoon met not too long after we were both changed. We lived together with another vampire in a nice little place just outside a village in China. Things were… really good back then.” 
A sad sigh escapes your lips as you prepare to tell them of the worst moment of your long life. The moment that’s kept you closed off from people. Kept your guard up and from letting anyone close again, at least until a bright doe eyed vampire inserted himself into your life and just wouldn’t leave, who wore down your defenses until you felt yourself helpless to do anything other than trust and care for him and everyone that he brought with. You try not to think about how it feels a little like the l-word. You can’t let yourself get that far. You can’t do it again. You guess it’s fitting that the story begins and ends with Namjoon. You rub the tears from your eyes and start from the beginning. 
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monsterywriting · 3 years
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Zhulgan (orc) - Prologue
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AN: Thank you to those who left the kind comments on my update post :) i know i said i’d post this yesterday but reading it again i wanted to fix up some stuff and ended up pretty much completely rewriting it... i hope you all enjoy the story.
word count: 7.4k
f!orc x f!reader
When the notice of war finally reached your village, half a year had already passed since the document had been signed and issued by the king. A town meeting was called and went throughout the night. The village leaders had been nervous to hear the news, not knowing if the fighting had yet to even begin or if it was already on your doorstep. It was eventually reasoned that because no soldiers had been seen in your village nor others nearby, there was no reason to panic just yet.
It wasn’t long after that a foreign platoon swept through the village of Ozryn, pillaging the grain stores and burning down every home and storefront for good measure. No one had been prepared, all the residents sleeping soundly when the attack began.
Most of the village was wiped out, people you’d known your entire life gone in a single terror-filled night. You were among the few survivors led out of Ozryn at dawn in chains, all of you still wearing your nightclothes and most barefoot. Only a fraction of the population were spared and it was immediately noticeable that they had purposefully kept the young women alive, making their motivation for taking you all prisoner all the easier to deduce.
Still, you refrained from sharing your grim observation as some in your pitiable party wept their prayers thanking the Maker for their miraculous survival. You simply didn’t have the heart to crush their hopes so soon—not when you were still trying to come up with a concrete plan for your escape
Unfortunately, the longer the group walked, the more you worried about nightfall. You no longer recognized the land and had lost track of how far from Ozryn you were, unable to concentrate on anything besides putting one foot in front of the other once the adrenaline drained out of you.
The sun was above your head when Mauve, the blacksmith’s daughter, slowed until she closed the distance between you, the chain that connected the two of you dragging along the ground. After a few moments of tense silence to see if any of the soldiers had noticed, she whispered.
“I know where we are.”
You froze in your tracks, playing off your shock as though you merely stumbled in the mud in case any of the guards actually were watching the interaction. You took in the surrounding country, willing the endless hills and marshes to suddenly become familiar to you. It still looked like a bunch of muddy grass when Mauve continued.
“We’ll come up on another village in a day or two. Tasca, halfway to Vircia.”
The names were familiar. Tasca was to the northwest of Ozryn, Vircia straight north. It made sense Mauve would have a pretty good grasp of the land, often leaving the village with her father to make deliveries. Despite the information making your planning a bit easier, your heart still sank. Another village meant another night of death, possibly more prisoners. From Mauve’s grim expression, she had come to the same conclusion.
“Keep it to yourself for now; they can’t know we’re talking,” you finally whispered back, both of you moving back apart.
It took all your willpower not to run your hands down your face in frustration, instead directing your energy to include more people in your revised escape plan.
At some point in the afternoon, the group stopped, word traveling down the procession to set up camp. You were all left to sit around, still chained together and several soldiers guarding your group. While the others all but collapsed where they stood, you forced yourself to remain on your feet, trying to get a head count of everyone who was still alive.
While you recognized all the faces, you knew only a few by first name. Winnie, the baker’s daughter, was closest to you, the only one chained behind you. Her face was relaxed as she was already asleep. Mauve looked similarly exhausted in front of you, though she still managed to remain awake as she laid sprawled on the ground. The rest were from the farming families that lived near the village, all faring marginally better, groups of sisters sitting close together to mourn their losses quietly.
Altogether there was twelve of you, six families left represented of the thirty or so that called Ozryn home- but you crushed that thought before it began.
“What are we going to do?” The elder of the two Littlerock sisters, Rose, whispered. She was around the same age as you and Mauve, the three of you in the same class when you were in school. It took you a moment to realize she was talking to you.
You look down at the Blackbriar sisters, by far the youngest members of your group, all three still teenagers. Everything was still so uncertain—such as how the twelve of you would outrun an entire platoon with horses and crossbows and the twelve of you debilitated and on foot with not a single shoe between you. The most you could share was your line of thinking, much of your plan dependent on opportunity that wasn’t likely to present itself in the middle of an enemy camp.
“We will have to wait and see if they separate us tonight,” you begin carefully, some of the older girls’ expressions flashing with disgust as they caught the subtext. “We need to gather our strength and escape. Preferably by tonight. We’re getting near Tasca; if we can get enough of a head start, we may be able to warn them and get to Vircia.
“Or, Dumir’s soldiers are already on their way and we won’t have to do anything,” you added lamely after a moment, the paltry hope you offered clearly doing little to dispel the gloom hanging in the air. The chances you would be found by anyone able to help and before nightfall were slim, and you all were just as likely to be killed in the chaos of a battle. The only true escape would be to escape on your own, something everyone had to come to grips with on their own.
When a soldier approached your group once again, everyone scrambled to huddle together, Winnie roused from her slumber and dragged close.
You alone remained standing, facing him down and doing your best to block his view of the others. Despite your best effort to keep yourself from showing any of the fear you definitely felt, you couldn’t help but take a step back when he got uncomfortably close. He grinned at you concession, the predatory look he gave you sending chills down your spine. Perhaps you wouldn’t even have until tonight to need to escape.
“All of you, get near the fire,” he finally said, ignoring you to address the group before jerking his head towards the center of camp where a large bonfire was already going strong. “What for?” You demanded in one final act of defiance, refusing to let your gaze drop when he turned back to you, annoyance twisting his features as he now loomed over you in a different threat.
Before he could say anything, a hand fell on his shoulder, the man sending the soldier away without a single order passing through his lips. You immediately recognized him as their leader, the one riding in the front of the procession and the one who had ordered the village be burned to the ground after capturing you all.
“There’s a hot meal for you all by the fire. None of my men will bother you there,” he smiled.
You didn’t trust the kindness of his words nor the honorable front he put on.  It was obviously not for any of your benefits that he protected you from the soldiers; if that were the case, none of you would be prisoners in the first place. His words did, however, give you more information about your circumstances. He needed you all alive and unharmed, if not for his soldiers or himself, then for his higher-ups and possibly until you were out of Dumir - which meant you could potentially have plenty of time to escape before finding out.
You followed after him as he turned to the fire, the others trailing close behind. He led you all to a vat hanging over the fire, soldiers serving bowls of broth and handing them out. You watched carefully as your meals were served, making sure nothing was slipped into the bowls before the hand off. Despite the likelihood of the soup already being poisoned was low, you still waited until you saw the soldiers eating before cautiously digging in.
Taking the opportunity to observe the camp’s layout, you tried to absorb your surroundings. They had set it up in a small valley, the size hidden from anyone traveling unless they happened to be right on the hills immediately surrounding it. The smoke form the fire, however, would make their location visible for miles, which meant they were either unaware that there was a village nearby or they weren’t worried about it. The former seemed even more unlikely as soldiers began to turn in to their tents despite the sun not being even close to setting. That there would be another attack that night was the more likely option.
Just as you were about to voice your observations to the others, you caught the leader staring directly at you, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before you quickly looked down at your plate. The encounter left you shaken, fearing that you had given away your intentions and ruining any chance of escape.
You woke later that evening, hours after you had been led to an empty tent and eventually fell into a fitful sleep after shaking at every noise that ventured too close to your tent. You had laid closest to the tent flap, making it a bit awkward for the others to sleep with the connecting chain but wanting to make certain that you could hear if anyone was going to enter.
There had been a guard posted outside, but as your eyes adjusted to the dark tent, you realized the camp was completely silent—save for snoring just outside the entrance.
While you don’t risk looking out and waking up the guard, you couldn’t contain your excitement as you roused everyone else from their slumber.
You couldn’t just walk out the front, the chances of the twelve people passing a sleeping guard waking him too great, but if you could crawl out the back without jostling the tent too much, then you could run up the hill and disappear in the marsh. You hurriedly whispered your plan to the others, Mauve telling them your destination should you get separated sometime in the night: the Great Gorge to the east that would lead you north, eventually near Tasca.
You, Rose and Mauve eased the back two stakes from the ground, the only injury a splinter in Rose’s finger she quickly pulled out. Once free, the canvas flapped slightly with the wind, hopefully any movement later attributed to that.
Once Mauve had the stakes, however, she got the idea to break the connecting chain, running along loops in your shackles and only fastened at the ends. While you all also had individual chains keeping your arms together, it would be much easier to move without being tethered to each other with a loud chain. Carefully looking at every link in the long chain until she found one with weak welding, she laid it on the ground and stuck the two points of the stakes into the hole, pressing down on the wider tops with both palms with all her weight until it snapped open. You all waited, everyone laying down on the chain in case the guard heard the noise.
After carefully extracting everyone in between the two people at the ends from the chain, Mauve and Rose slowly raised the fabric of the tent in the back, giving you a large enough gap to crawl out.
There was no soldier waiting to catch you as soon as you got out, fortunately. You glanced around the sides of the tent to see if there was anyone near the fire who would see all of you scaling the hill, holding on to your chains tightly as you moved so they wouldn’t make any noise.
The camp seemed deserted with the only snoring audible form the soldier that was supposed to be your guard; definitely unlikely for a camp of forty some odd men after spending the night before attacking a village to be so silent. An unease settled deep within the pit of your stomach but you brushed it aside, the more pressing matter of getting out undetected on the forefront of your mind.
The others crawled out once you signaled it was safe, immediately running as soon as you pointed them in the direction to go. Once Rose was out and gone, you held the tent open for Mauve, dropping it as soon as she was out and the two of you moving between the tents as stealthily as you could. Just as you were about to make a break for the hill, you were yanked back by your collar.
You gasped in surprise, the same soldier you had a run-in with earlier grinning once again with his sword pointed directly at you. You were caught. You tried to tell Mauve to run, but your throat was seized in panic.
Gathering every ounce of your courage, you spat in his face instead, trying to draw his attention away from Mauve so she had time to escape. It worked, his grip leaving your chain and wrapping around your neck as he shook you.
Instead of running, Mauve appeared behind him, wrapping her chain around his neck and pulling, his eyes bulging out in surprise as he dropped you with a squawk. For a moment you sat there, dazed until you realized the soldier was loud. If anyone was still in the camp, they’d definitely hear his gurgling screams. You scrambled to your feet, coughing as you gripped the shackle around your dominant hand as best you could and smashed it over the top of his head, blood spraying from the impact.
Your entire hand throbbed with pain, most acutely in your wrist. A sob escaped you almost immediately after but it had the desired effect, the soldier going limp. You stared for a moment as you watched him stare at you, twitching and then growing still. Too still. He continued to stare. You and Mauve blinked up at each other.
If he was found, it would be obvious you all escaped and in what direction. Mauve pointed at the tent and you both moved quickly to drag him back to it, you one-handed. Mauve rolled him underneath the gap while you held the loose material, careful not to get any blood on it to give yourselves that much more time.
You then ran blindly, time ticking before your group’s escape and your gruesome act were discovered. Your legs burned as you went uphill but you didn’t dare slow even after you and Mauve scaled the hill. The soldiers were already on your heels in your mind, easily following your footprints in the soft ground just as you and Mauve were following your companions’.
You weren’t sure when, but you found your hand in Mauve’s at some point as you ran, both of you tugging on the other whenever one of you stepped into a hidden pockets of water. The two of you were in the true marshland now, the tall grass making it impossible to tell where the wet soil ended and water began. The moon was but a sliver in the sky, as though she kept her light to herself to keep your trek cloaked in darkness from your pursuers. You looked over your shoulder feeling your stomach drop when the column of smoke originating from an orange glow wasn’t nearly as far as you imagined.
“How far is the ravine?” You pant, your hand and throat still throbbing.
“We should make it before dawn,” Mauve answered.
Over the course of the night, you rejoin Rose and Winnie, the latter one of the first to take off but a slow runner. None of you let her fall behind, forcing your group to move slower. It was dawn when you reached the gorge, a jagged break in the landscape with eight ghostly figures visible standing at its edge.
Rose ran ahead, pulling her sister Lily in a tight embrace. You, Mauve and Winnie, being the only members of your respective families to survive, are much slower to join, feeling awkward to interrupt the reunion and somewhat envious that there was no one for any of you to rejoin.
“You’re covered in blood!” Winnie suddenly cried out, looking at you and Mauve in horror in the morning light. You had thought the blood had been washed from you with all the water you fell into throughout the night, but if Mauve’s red face was any indication of what you looked like, you could understand the concern.
“We’re fine,” you said grimly, “but we need to assume that they found out we’re gone already and move fast.”
“Are we going to climb down?” Grace, the eldest of the four Cedar girls, asked, her voice hoarse.
You look at everyone, all covered in mud and looking about as tired as you felt. Unfortunately, your morbid gift in the tent had undoubtedly been found by now, so there could be no breaks.
“Yes,” Mauve answered for you, looking over the edge, “We can rest once we reach the bottom, but up here we’re too exposed.”
You look down as well, the slope steep but not an entirely sheer drop, likely the result of rockslides and time. Swallowing back the growing lump in your throat, you began to pick your way down, sitting forcefully whenever the rocky surface would break away under your bare feet.
A rock suddenly bounced off your back, very nearly making you lose your balance as you feared the entire thing was coming down on you. You looked up, the others also moving down the path you left. The further you descended, the colder the air grew, the small amount of sun you did have disappearing behind rock.
Contrary to what Mauve promised, you pushed the girls to continue moving, following the tapering stream north. The only way to tell the passage of time was the brightening sky, white fluffy clouds moving across the narrow strip of blue you could see. You pass natural grooves in the stone face, not quite large enough to be considered caves but which could provide a decent refuge when you do decide to stop, keeping you hidden from anyone looking from above.
You wanted to put as much distance as you could between you and the soldiers, hopefully going far enough out of their way that they couldn’t justify wasting resources searching for you. Unfortunately, none of you had much strength left to keep moving, the group forced to stop when the youngest Blackbriar girl collapsed in exhaustion.
Everyone huddled into one of the grooves, too cold and scared to split up though that was probably the wiser option. You planned to remain awake, listening for any sign that you’d been followed, but you passed out almost as soon as you leaned against the wall only to be shaken awake by Rose what felt like only a moment later and feeling entirely unrested.
Because your group was at the clear disadvantage - traveling with limited visibility in every direction with the tall cliff faces and the winding path of the ravine - you decided it would be best to travel by night, which would also allow the others time to rest.
You, Rose and Mauve remained awake to come up with a plan, Tasca still half a day’s walk away at least and no food or water to sustain the twelve of you until you reached the village. It was then you finally shared your concern that the reason you all were able to escape the night before was because the camp was empty. It was unlikely you could make it to the village before the battalion, if they did indeed leave to attack it as they had Ozryn.
Rose sobbed as you pointed out that even if you did go straight to Vircia and managed to survive without eating, none of you had any money or appropriate clothes, meaning it was still necessary to go to Tasca and hope there were still some valuables left untouched for you to take.
It was the third morning since the attack that your emotions finally hit full force, weeping silently into your hands until you finally slipped into unconsciousness, and even then the faces of the people of your village haunted you. You replayed the moments you tried escaping, running through the garden as you felt an incredible heat on your back as your home was engulfed in flames behind you. Once again you were cut off by a soldier on horseback and dragged back into the heart of the village, the faces of the stacked bodies you passed stared blankly up at you, covered in soot and blood. You thought about the same look on the soldier’s face back at the camp.
You didn’t let a single noise leave you, not wanting to wear down the others’ spirits any further. For some reason, possibly from some misguided belief that because your father had been the justice of the peace of Ozryn that you were the natural person to listen to, they were all relying on you to get them all to safety. For better or for worse, you would have to remain strong.
When you suddenly felt a hand press onto your shoulder you jumped, whipping around to see Winnie looking at you with similarly glistening eyes. You reached blindly for her and she immediately embraced you. You were grateful for her sturdy frame engulfing you, the two of you falling asleep like that, comforted by each other’s presence.
That night, you travelled again until dawn, stopped for a short rest and then looked for a way to climb out of the gorge safely. The walls were significantly less steep here - about double Rose’s, the tallest of your group, height - not nearly as much of a canyon as it had been out in the marshland. Despite that, none of you could afford any injuries in this pivotal moment in your journey. If the attack on Tasca was anything like Ozryn, the battalion was likely long gone, but you wanted to be prepared for the worst case scenario.
One of the Blackbriar girls found something better, noticing an old goat path along the cliff face with just enough space for each of you to ascend in a single-file line, the river they were brought to long gone but the route carved by countless cloven hooves remaining.
Once the group cleared the gorge, you found yourselves in a pine forest, the mud replaced with dried needles. The unfavorable terrain made everyone slow down, the sharp points of the pine needles making everyone flinch at some point or another.
“Do we all have to go?” One of the Cedar sisters suddenly piped up, her voice trembling with emotion, “Shouldn’t some of us stay in the gorge?”
You sighed, knowing her concern wasn’t entirely unfounded and likely mirrored the thoughts of most of others. You also were loath to see another ruined village, but to split up was dangerous, especially with no supplies or familiarity with the area.
“I’ll go into the village, but you should all stay close,” you answer, quickly adding, “Spread out but keep within each other’s line of sight. Run the moment you even think there might be danger.”
There were slow nods of agreement, but Mauve stepped forward to stop you from leaving.
“I should go, too,” She argued, “two sets of hands is better than one.”
You shake your head firmly, “You have the most profitable skill among us, Mauve. We need you if we’re going to make it in a larger city.”
You didn’t give anyone else time to argue, venturing through the forest the rest of the way alone. There was no smell that would suggest an entire village was burned two nights ago as you approached, but the forest was also completely silent save for the birds flitting through the tops of the trees. When you finally reached the first buildings, they were all still intact but there was no sign of life.
Entering a few of the homes confirmed your suspicion. Tasca had been deserted, likely long before just a few days ago as there was no evidence of a mad dash to get out. Nothing had been left disturbed, wardrobes and dressers carefully closed once emptied, picture frames and other personal items - things that would have been left behind if there was a sudden attack in the night - gone. Even if the soldiers hadn’t ransacked the village two nights ago, you suspected that you wouldn’t find much.
Just as you ended a fruitless search of the village center, you were suddenly seized outside the building, crying out as you were hauled by your hair out into the commons. You caught only a glimpse of your captor, bile rising in your throat as you immediately recognized the leader of the platoon.
Your heart leapt into your throat, any kind front he put up the day before gone as he glared down at you with purple-faced fury. You looked frantically around at the other soldiers surrounding you, your relief that no one else had been caught short-lived as you began to worry about your own fate.
The leader was yelling at you, but you didn't hear much as he shook you like the answers would come tumbling from your lips. You couldn’t say anything as you tried to keep your neck stiff, your stunned silence only seeming to stoke the flames of his wrath. The soldiers were silent as he dragged you to his waiting horse, snatching his riding crop from the saddle and bringing it down on your exposed calf.
You could only scream, mind completely blank with terror. It’s impossible to think, to come up with some means of getting out of this situation alive, but you were struggling to even believe you could. 
Suddenly, a horn - an unmistakeable signal for battle - blasted from the forest, seemingly from everywhere by the way the sound bounced off the pines but definitely close. Shouting erupted around you, though you were only vaguely aware of the chaos as you had gone entirely limp, no energy left in you to react to yet another dramatic turn of events. The leader attempted to pull your dead weight onto his horse, shouting for one of his men to help him, but he was alone in focusing on taking you prisoner, everyone else simply trying to survive the apparent ambush.
You managed to get a full view of the scene unfurling in front of you, not quite registering that orcs were storming into the village from the forest and attacking the platoon. In your defense, you were no where near the orcs’ lands, their shared border with Dumir to the west and definitely not extending this far south or east - orc raiders were the last thing you would expect to suddenly save you, more likely perhaps than only the king of Dumir himself or aliens.
You were released suddenly, narrowly avoiding getting stamped into the ground by the leader’s retreating horse. You ran unsure where you were going but well aware you couldn’t remain in the middle of a battle, at least having the wherewithal to go at a 90 degree angle from where the orc horde was currently pouring out of the forest in an attempt to get out of their way as fast as possible.
You could only pray that the others heard the ruckus and managed to escape, focusing on getting as much distance between you and the fight. Had you any money to bet, it would have been squarely on the orcs, but you weren’t about to stick around and risk getting killed or captured all over again, especially once they realized the village was empty.
The pines began to thin and you began to slow, believing you were nearing the gorge. You immediately skidded to a halt, your heart pounding in your chest as an entire orc caravan stared back at you, clearly as startled to see you as you were to see them.
When an old orc woman stood, you swiveled to your left and ran, though you didn’t even make it more than a few steps before you ran straight into another orc.
You floundered in his hold, unable to understand anything he was saying to you in your panic until a familiar name cut through - Ozryn. Before you could ask what he knew of your village, you heard your name, looking over your shoulder to see the others all standing there, clean and wearing different clothes. Their restraints were gone.
“We thought you’d been caught!” Winnie cried, her and the others rushing forward towards you, “It’s okay, they’re here to help.”
“You speak orcish?” You asked, still somewhat dismayed by all the things happening in such quick succession.
“No, I speak common,” the orc answered instead, much to your surprise. His accent was thick, because of his native tongue or from the tusks you weren’t certain, “The soldiers that destroyed your village trespassed on our land when they crossed into your country. We tracked them from then.”
A bitter taste was left in your mouth as you imagined how differently things would have been had they found the soldiers sooner, even if by just a few days. You would have still been at home, at this time likely taking taking your father and brother their forgotten lunches.
“I am Alkgan. Come, let’s get those chains off. Then you can bathe and change clothes, too,” he said, ushering you towards one of the wagons.
Various weapons were leaned against its wooden side, Alkgan disappearing to talk with whoever was inside the wagon. While you waited, you took in your surroundings, not quite ready to accept that you were completely safe just yet. Beasts milled around the wagons, tearing at the grass; it took you a moment to realize they were cattle, never seeing a breed so large before. The camp was populated mostly by children, from toddlers to young teens. It was obvious where most of the adults were. Few of the children paid you any mind, and those that did seemed more interested in your shackles than the group of strangers walking around the camp.
“This is Vulgud,” Alkgan said, bringing your attention back to the wagon, “He is our weaponsmith.”
The tall orc in question was stepping down from the wagon with a small iron object in hand. You had expected the chain to be broken with a large hammer on the anvil on the ground nearby. Instead, he took one of your hands and searched for the key hole, inserting the tool and seemingly randomly jiggling it around. Within moments, the shackle popped open, giving away and swinging while he repeated the process with your other hand.
You thanked Vulgud, running your finger along the bruised skin of your dominant hand’s wrist, evidence of what you did the night you escaped. It was big, spanning from your knuckles down your arm.
You quickly hid your arm as the old orc woman from before approached, a herd of young children following her. She held a bundle of clothes and ushering you towards a large basin.
Small, chubby hands of every shade of green held onto the rim, all trying to see who was in their tub. You smiled in between scrubbing the mud from your body with soap, the water thankfully opaque with all the grime and dirt from the last two days. They didn’t speak common, directing their questions in orcish to the old woman. She bared her teeth and growled, sending them all scattering, nodding to you before leaving you.
When you were finally changing into the clean set of clothes, Rose gasped, her gaze directed not to your arm but your legs. You looked down as well, noticing the welts that had grown more pronounced on your leg. You had felt the sting while you walked, but you hadn’t realized they had gotten so noticeable with all the dried mud. You pulled up the trousers, covering the marks. The clothes were clearly made for orc children, fitting your waist around but the leg not quite reaching your ankles. Fortunately, the boots you were provided made up for the difference, making the shorter length look purposeful.
Rose left the matter of your wounds at that, both of you returning to the others silently. Once you rejoined the others, Mauve filled you in on what happened while you were in Tasca.
Apparently, they had been found by the orc caravan shortly after you left, before they even had a chance to split up as you planned. They thought they were residents of the village before they saw the chains. It was a fortunate coincidence that the very people you all were running from were the same ones they spent weeks looking for.
“So, what now?” Mauve finished with a question, the others now gathered around you, “Do we still go to Vircia?”
“Shouldn’t we return home to Ozryn?” Grace argued, “The soldiers are all dead, it should be safe now!”
“Why can’t we stay here?” Winnie asked, “It’s safe; at least for a few days…”
“What if we rode along with the orcs?” Rose said, “I’m so tired of running… they’ve helped us so far. I’m sure they’ll pass by Vircia, at least.”
“You haven’t heard?” You all jumped as Alkgan approached the group, all of you watching him expectantly. “Most of the villages we passed were burned down… The larger cities are the same since humans have been fleeing Dumir through our lands for months-”
You stopped listening, despondent over the revelation. Your entire world had literally been razed to the ground just a few days ago and the final shred of hope you had been clinging to had been ripped away as well.
The others were staring at you. You could feel it, but you had no comfort or assurances to offer this time. The news was just as abrupt for you and you had no fallback. They all expected you to be like your father, always knowing exactly what to do and how to adapt, but he also never had to deal with situations of this magnitude in Ozryn so you felt entitled to take a moment.
Wordlessly, you turned around and walked away, unable to provide them the answers the so desperately wanted and overwhelmed with the weight of twelves lives you had found thrusted upon your shoulders. You had convinced yourself that everything would be alright so long as you could reach Vircia, that there would be people there who would no what to do, that you could somehow escape the rest of the war. It was the only way to convince yourself to keep moving and not just curl up and wait to reunite with your parents and brother.
Tasca gone you could handle - you had already suspected it to be the next target of the soldiers and it was always meant to be a stepping stone - but to learn that every other village and town was no longer an option…
You walked straight out of the camp, eventually leaving the forest behind and squatting down in the tall grass. You didn’t sit, not so besides yourself in grief as to dirty the borrowed clothes so soon but still trying to curl up as small as possible. You tried to dampen the nausea you’ve felt for days now, willing yourself to stop dry heaving. There was nothing in your stomach to bring up, but that fact did not stop your body from trying.
Alkgan appeared next to you at some point, plopping down on the ground and waiting for you to compose yourself before speaking.
“The others look up to you. They said you were the reason they were able to escape. Even refused to leave after we removed their shackles.”
“I see,” you croaked, not really seeing anything but wanting to be polite. You wondered why Alkgan didn’t go with the other raiders.
“You aren’t pleased that they see you as their leader?”
You snorted at that, “I’m no leader. There’s just no one else left from our village; they didn’t have any choice.”
“Of course they had a choice!” A deep rumbling that you soon realized was laughter came from deep within Alkgan’s chest as he looked down at you with amusement, the colorful beads that adorned his twin braids rattling together, “They had eleven others, or even choose no one. If you do not accept their trust, then you waste it… and you will need it if you are going to survive.”
You were taken aback by the unexpectedly profound piece of wisdom, the encouragement seemingly from out of the blue. Perhaps that was Alkgan’s role for the caravan, his insight so vital he didn’t go out into battle.
Before you could thank him for his advice, however, the sound of the horn once again echoed through the forest, signaling the return of the raiders. Before the sound even faded, Alkgan was up and walking back to the camp and you close behind, the orc woman leading the group calling out to him in orcish.
She was tall, a whole head taller than Alkgan once he was standing in front of her, who you thought was too tall already. Her armor was dented and covered in blood but she seemed to be in a good mood after the battle, baring her teeth in a gruesome smile and shaking her black plaited hair out of her helm. You gulped as she looked at you, her gaze clearly analyzing you. You were definitely intimidated, glad that you were not been the one to have crossed the orcs.
Mauve had told you that the warriors had already split off from the main group when they were found, so they definitely had no idea why a bunch of humans were in their camp. You could hear nothing while the two talked, the snippets you caught all in orcish anyways, but there was a lot of pointing and looking over at you, which was disconcerting. You stayed rooted in your spot, trying not to look as anxious as you felt while Alkgan walked back towards with you, the orc woman following him. You managed to at least maintain eye contact, even when you had to crane your neck back as they got closer.
“This is the chief of this caravan, Zhulgan,” he introduced the newcomer before turning to her and saying something in orcish.
You could definitely see a resemblance up close even without the similar names, their facial structures strikingly similar and the same mottled shades of green. The two went back and forth for a minute, both seemingly getting annoyed with the other.
The nausea flared up again as your imagination ran wild about what they were discussing, clearly about what to do with the twelve of you. The most obvious thing was being taken prisoner again. Even if your experience thus far told you differently, you felt that orcs would be a less desirable captor than fellow humans.
“We’ll be leaving soon,” Alkgan finally met your gaze once again and you relaxed slightly, though the apologetic look he gave you kept you from fully calming down, “She says… your group should leave now.”
The tension immediately returned to your shoulders. You hadn’t expected to be faced with a decision on what to do so soon, despite having just discussed you options with the others. At the time, it had seemed far away, like you had been getting in front of the issue before it became one and you hadn’t even been able to come to a consensus.
“I- but- Surely you could just stay for the night? If you can just leave in the morning-?” You floundered, trying to think of some reason that could buy you some time to figure out what to do.
“I’m sorry, but we’ve remained on this land for too long already, especially during a war. We’re low on supplies already, we must go,” Alkgan said, the pity clear in his eyes.
You were on the verge of panicking, your mind and heart racing as you willed yourself to come up with some plan, an easy fix that would knock out all your problems. You had no time, unable to pause the conversation to talk to the others, so you were forced to act on impulse.
“What if we travelled with you?” You asked, the desperation clear in your voice. It was a long shot; Alkgan knew your plan was to go north and they were heading west; not to mention that you had nothing to offer them as payment in exchange.
Alkgan didn’t even bother to translate your request before responding, “That’s not possible. You’re humans-”
Zhulgan said something in orcish, Alkgan shaking his head.
“If everyone is fleeing Dumir, we will probably need to leave, anyways.”
“You can cross the border faster here.”
“Some of the girls have family out west.” A blatant lie, but necessary to try and sway Alkgan with a plausible enough excuse. “If they left, it would have been through the orc lands.”
You suppressed every nervous tic that threatened to disrupt your straight face, willing Alkgan to take the natural next step in his argument: that you had nothing to offer. You couldn’t decide who to look at to implore - Zhulgan was the chief, but Alkgan was taking charge of the conversation - so you awkwardly flitted your gaze between the two as a compromise. Zhulgan was staring solely at you, apparently trusting her brother enough to allow him to do so.
“Well you can’t cross without-”
“-paying tribute,” you finished with just a tad too much eagerness but now confident that you could win this argument, “As you know, our village was destroyed. We have nothing of material value to offer you, but we can work off our debt. Mauve knows how to work in a forge and can work metal. We can also help you procure supplies from any of the towns- or work with your animals or help take care of the young ones-”
Alkgan laughed, boisterously loud and making you jump. Zhulgan was still watching you closely, an unreadable look flashing across her eyes, though it was possible you imagined it. You were breathing heavily, not having taken in any air during your passionate monologue. You weren’t entirely sure if Alkgan was impressed with your quick thinking or convinced that you were completely insane.
Rather than clarify, he turned to speak with Zhulgan. You had no way of gauging if the discussion was in your favor or not, Alkgan still looking amused and Zhulgan’s expression frustratingly impassive.
After what felt like an eternity, Zhulgan turned to you, her expression inscrutable. “Your group may travel with us.”
Your jaw dropped, never once suspecting that she could understand what you were saying the entire time. You were embarrassed, believing she would only get a summarized explanation of your words. Still, your proposition had been accepted either way and you were relieved.
Of course, you didn’t have long to enjoy the victory, Zhulgan ordering the orcs to begin loading the wagons. You would have to break the news to everyone else - a prospect that made you dread the role of unofficial leader anew. Grace had already expressed her desire to go home and at least some of the others must agree. However, Alkgan’s words came back to you, putting some air back into your sails. They trusted you to keep everyone safe and you wouldn’t waste it.
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bumblebee-moreno · 3 years
Text
Sacrilege (part one; Selkie!Tovar x GN Reader)
Selkie!Tovar is finally here! 
Word count: 1566
Warnings: None? probably some historical inaccuracies but idk tbh, personal Selkie Lore, the title will make sense later, I promise.
A/N: Meant to take place shortly after the events of The Great Wall. Part two is scheduled to come out Feb 3, but if y’all like this part, I may release the next one early. Talk to me if you liked it (I would love any excuse to talk about Selkie!Tovar tbh)!
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Pero grips his coat closer to his chest. The bustling of the crowd around him is almost overwhelming. Markets like this, he supposes, are the closest thing humans get to the crowded beaches his mother used to bring him to. It seems rather silly to him: why gather together if not to enjoy the peace and comfort of being safely surrounded by your own kind?
Very few things humans do make sense to Pero. This market, for instance. Why buy fish when you live right by the ocean? He can’t find much of a difference between the fishermen and the rest of the population. Is there something he’s not seeing that makes most people unable to hunt? Pero pities the poor land-creatures who had never felt the thrill of chasing down a meal for themselves.
Pero rubs at his eyes with his free hand in a half-hearted attempt to quell the ever-present exhaustion that had made its home in his head over the course of his journey. He can’t wait for nightfall when he can return home.
His family had been right. Humans are greedy, self-centred warmongers. It’s a wonder they haven’t brought their own extinction upon themselves yet.
It was a silly decision to join the world of the land for so long. Pero knew the evils of man. It was childish of him to think the ones who made their homes on dry ground would be any different from those who journeyed to the open sea.
No, humans make no sense to Pero. But then again, he’s not sure he wants to understand them anymore. Why would so many surrender their lives to steal an armload of a mysterious black powder?
Was it sheer curiosity, much like the wonder that had brought Pero on the very same journey? Pero scoffs at himself. No. Humans may take without much concern for the consequences, but they do not take for such frivolous emotions as curiosity. No, the reason has to be far more sinister.
After all, he’s seen what the black powder can do. He’d been told it could change the world. He’d been told he’d be a hero if he brought back even a tiny bit of it. He doesn’t understand. It seems as though the powder only takes lives. How could he be a hero if he spread the use of such a destructive substance?
Pero’s thoughts are drowned out by voices shouting around him. Angry words echo over the crowd and people begin to push and shove with the intention of moving others, instead of to create a path for themselves.
The few mothers Pero can spot begin gathering their children and seeking escape from the changing energy of the crowd.
Pero lifts his gaze in hopes of spotting the origin of the sudden outburst of the people around him. All he can see in every direction is fighting. People push and shove and hit and pull at each other without much care as to who they may be hurting. Or, perhaps their motivation is to hurt as many as they can. After what he’d seen these past months, Pero figured the latter was more likely.
The crowd grows more and more intense, much like the surface of the ocean on those angry nights where the sky and the sea disagree. If Pero knows anything of conflict like this, it’s that unless you wish to fight the waves, it’s best to avoid it altogether.
He begins to weave his way between people, pushing through when he cannot find an opening to slip himself into. It’s slow, he gets shoved into several people who didn’t seem to care he was moving past. But it’s better than remaining stranded.
Pero can see people walking away. He’s close to freeing himself from the horde of angered people.
Then suddenly, he feels a pulling. He tightens his grip on the soft material in his arms, but it’s too late. The fur slips from his fingers and disappears. Pero whirls around in place, searching for the source of the pulling. For his coat. But all he can find in every direction are the faces of the species he is pretending to belong to.
Pero’s heart quickens. Where is it? Shouted words blur together into an unrelenting howl and echo through Pero’s head. Pero searches through the crowd. It couldn’t have gone far, could it?
He’d thought the most terrifying point in his life would be the battle he’d escaped a few weeks ago. But that terror pales in comparison to this.
Pero’s knees weaken. His hands begin to shake. What if he never finds it? What if someone saw the coat being pulled from his grasp and decided to keep it for themselves?
Tears sting at Pero’s eyes. His vision blurs. His body threatens to collapse on itself. He just wants to go home. And yet, somehow that was too much to ask of humanity to allow.
How could he be so stupid as to ignore the stories he’d been told? He should have known this would happen. It always happens. That’s why no one ever dared journey past the beach. And yet he had.
Over the ringing in his ears, he hears a single voice.
“Excuse me,” It says before a small tap on his shoulder sends Pero spinning on his heel. “You dropped your coat,” The voice, now matched to a face, finishes, lifting the familiar fur as an offering.
Pero tears the coat from your grip and pulls it close to his chest, almost as if he were guarding an infant. His voice refuses to work, so he gives you a teary smile of gratitude. He hopes humans understand smiles.
You smile back.
***
“Not again,” you groan when the usual market commotion elevates into enraged shouts.
Why couldn’t they wait just five more minutes before starting a fight? Five minutes and you would’ve been at your stand, out of the way of this nonsense.
You shift your basket to your hip and use your free hand to push through. You’re already late this morning; you don’t need to get stuck in the middle of this.
Your hope begins to diminish, though, when you lift yourself onto your toes and discover that you can’t see the end of the chaos.
You curse under your breath before continuing to push in the direction you know you will eventually find your stand. Why did this have to happen today of all days? Sure, you’d been telling yourself for months to arrive before sunrise so you’d beat the morning rush, but was it too much to ask for the stars to align and give you one, just one, nonsense-free day?
A fist narrowly misses your ear. If it had been years ago, you’d have flinched. But you’ve swam through this sort of crowd enough times by now that a stray punch is the least of your worries.
A body slams into yours. You stumble backwards, shifting your basket just enough that its contents don’t spill out. You’re about to move on when you feel a tug at your arm.
You pull back to free yourself and are met with hardly any resistance. You look down. A strange coat falls at your feet.
Your visions snaps back up in time to see the last of the soft material slipping from the arms of its owner. He’s a strange man. In another town, perhaps he’d fit in. But in this small gathering of fishermen and farmers, he stands out like a sore thumb. The scar over his eye, combined with the clumsiness as he navigates the crowd tells you this man spends very little time in a bustling market like this.
The crowd shifts, pulling the man out of your sight.
You’re tempted to continue on. The coat isn’t your problem. If it were important, he’d have kept a better grip on it. But, as you take a step, something stops you.
With very little grace, you stoop to pick up the coat, nearly dropping your basket in the process. You drape the coat over your arm and run your fingers over the soft fur.
You search through the slowly calming crowd. With every passing moment, you begin to lose hope of finding him again. Every minute of your day is precious and you’ve already lost time to the crowd.
You’re about to give up when you spot a tense figure. He’s searching around him, and upon closer inspection, you find panic in his eyes. He turns to search in the other direction, unsure as to where to look.
You push through the crowd until you’re close enough for him to hear you.
“Excuse me,” you speak up over the hum of the busy town square. He doesn’t respond for a moment, so you tap him on the shoulder.
As if he’d been burned, the man whirls around. He looks as though he can’t decide whether to lash out or collapse in panic.
“You dropped your coat,” You shift to offer him the peculiar fur.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he tears the coat from your grip and holds it close.
His eyes threaten to overflow with relief. The coat must have been incredibly important to him. A family heirloom, you suppose.
He offers a hesitant smile. You return the gesture before adjusting the basket at your hip and shuffling away.
Tags: @justanotherblonde23​ @itsaisopodkillmepls​ @andriecastana​
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