#I Am at least on the right path as tucked away small and hidden and invisible as this may make me feel. bc its never a hard contrast to mak

[alphalesbian]

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[telli1206]

The Heart Will Follow (Chapter 2)

Jay’s never had a crush...until he met Carlos. And now he can’t stay away.

Carlos doesn’t know what to make of Jay’s presence, yet. But what should he do, exactly, about a boy that’s both cute AND terrifying?

A collection of Jaylos isle meetings, inspired by this beautiful headcanon I came across randomly that I can’t get out of my head. And thank you to @hersilentlanguage for motivating me to post this!

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: It Was Only Me And You

Evie tilts her head slowly, trying ever so gingerly to cast a subtle glance over her shoulder. Once she catches a flash of dark eyes, she whips back around. She tries to keep her actions as casual and composed as possible, but Carlos quirks a brow when he notices her mouth tipped open in surprise.

“He’s looking over here again. He’s-yeah, Jay’s definitely staring at you.”

Carlos sighs deeply and scrunches his eyes closed, letting his body slink back lax in his chair.

“Really? W-why do you think he keeps, doing that?”

Evie chews on her lip for a moment, examining Carlos carefully as his eyes flutter open to meet hers.

“Who knows.” She waves off the topic, leaning forward to help Carlos tackle the massive pile of books on his desk. “But there’s no point in worrying about it right now, is there? We have to get you home so you can catch up on these assignments.”

Carlos blinks, staring at her with a surprised look. He starts to turn, as if debating a look behind him, to see what Evie saw, but instead shifts back quickly and straightens up in his seat.

“O-ok. I guess. There is a lot here for me to do.”

He grabs his bag, smiling gratefully as Evie starts to stack his books so he can easily slide them in.

“Thanks, Evie.”

Evie feels a warmth bloom in her chest, and she has to fight down the happy curl that’s making its way across her lips. She only officially met her new friend a couple of hours ago, and already she feels giddy with excitement to have found a fellow kind soul on this dump of an island. She only wishes that she had a chance to meet him sooner. The fact that Carlos was hidden this whole time in the mansion just across the way from her seems like a travesty - a friendship that she’s really needed, and been deprived of.

Her resistance to smiling ebbs away the more she watches Carlos. He’s stopping every time he picks up a book to let his fingers trace across the letters on the cover, brown eyes alight with wonder, before carefully tucking his new treasure safely into his bag. It’s definitely slowing down their exit from class, but Evie can’t help but marvel at how excited Carlos is for school. It’s adorable. 

And she finally has someone she can ask to study that won’t look at her like a complete freak for actually wanting to do her school work.

Evie’s knocked out of her thoughts by a loud snort from behind, obnoxious enough to startle her and make Carlos flinch. Her eyes narrow at Mal, who flashes her a steely glare while dragging Jay along past her and Carlos. 

Jay’s constant presence makes Evie uneasy. Even as Mal pulls him by forcefully, he’s still staring at Carlos. And now he’s close...too close for her comfort. She tenses when she sees the thief leaning in even closer to her friend, only relaxing when Mal firmly yanks him away, earning space between Jay and Carlos. 

Evie comes around the desk to stand by Carlos, making a fuss under the guise of helping him more, but secretly hoping for protection for him that can come with her proximity. Carlos smiles gratefully at her, happy for her help, but also glaringly oblivous to the fact that he’s still in the sights of his dark-haired classmate.

“Come on, Carlos, we should head home. By the way, can I tell you how excited I am to have someone to walk home with? Especially since it’s you.”

Carlos ducks his head, hiding a shy smile as he slings his hefty backpack over his shoulder. Two books are still in his hand, and he ignores Evie’s comment (other than the light flush dusting his cheeks, which Evie still notices) in favor of chattering excitedly about his first Poisons and Potions class tomorrow.

His animated talk is the perfect distraction, allowing Evie to guide them quickly away from prying eyes. She hooks a hand under Carlos’ elbow the second she sees Mal and Jay lingering against the lockers. She isn’t sure why they’re still hanging around nearby, but she’s not about to stay and find out.

“-so I know we probably can’t bring materials home, but do you think the teacher might make an exception if I offered to clean up the room for them or something? Because there’s an acid that’s good for cleaning concrete that I could really use. Mother would love-”

Evie’s half listening to Carlos, nodding and humming accordingly so he continues while she’s keeping a watchful eye. She fixes as heated a glare as she can muster when she catches Jay’s eye, feeling mildly satisfied when his eyes widen slightly in surprise.

She lets her glare shift then to Mal, hoping for a smiliar reaction, but is less than surprised when instead the girl’s face scrunches in anger, and a mocking tongue pokes from between her pinkish lips. 

For a second Evie thinks how much fun it would be to just bite at that offensive pink tongue, and to bruise those small, pouty lips with pressure from her own. Mal would be shocked, no doubt, and the painful groans would be music to her ears...

Wait...painfulshrieks. Why is she thinking about Mal’s groans?

Evie shakes her head dismissively, returning her focus to Carlos and his chemistry babbling. She’s having trouble holding onto his elbow as his gestures become more wild and exagerrated. His nose is scrunched and his cheeks are flushed and red from barely taking a breath between sentences. It makes his freckles stand out so much more against the brightening skin. 

He’s so cute, Evie thinks, stealing peeks at him as they walk. With beautiful brown eyes and lips like his, she has no doubt her friend will have at least a few of the kids at Dragon Hall crushing. Hard.

Her thoughts suddenly shift to Jay, and the looks he was giving Carlos. His stares. The creepy closeness. And her breath hitches in her throat.

Maybe she’ll have more to worry about with Jay than she originally thought.

———

“Evie? I appreciate you walking with me, but isn’t your home...right there?”

Carlos points back to the dusty sidewalk Evie had just hurried past. It’s dirty and quiet and isolated like it’s barely even looked at, let alone used. And yet, there’s still a light disturbance in the softly settled dirt that bares an eerie resemblance to Evie’s high-heeled shoes.

Yes, Carlos surmises. Those are definitely her heel prints and that’s most definitely her turn off to get home.

But her fingers are fidgeting and her gaze is scattered. She’s quietly shaking her head No but refusing to look at him at the same time.

“Evie? Is...is something, wrong?”

She finally looks up at him, her bottom lip pulled tight between her teeth. Carlos catches a look of concern before Evie relaxes and flashes a toothy grin. It seems...forced? But Carlos decides not to question it.

“Of course not, Carlos! I’m fine,” she chirps, still smiling at him. “I just want to make sure you make it home ok.”

She covers Carlos’ hand with her own and smiles warmly, and Carlos is practically beaming from the attention. 

He was overjoyed when his mother finally agreed to let him attend school. But he had never imagined that going to Dragon Hall would benefit him even more than just advancing his education. 

But now, he has his first...friend. And it’s already better than he could have hoped for.

“Evie, how do you think I made it home before today?” he teases with a little smirk. “I’ll be ok, I swear. Besides, if your mom’s anything like mine, she’s going to be royally pissed if you’re late. Am I right?”

Evie sighs, casting a troubled glance towards her castle, and Carlos knows his assumption was spot-on. Not that he’s surprised, really. He would have been more shocked to find out Evie had kind, loving parents than the latter.

But to Carlos, that only begs the question why Evie would want to go against her best interest to stay with him.

“Get going,” he urges again, pointing towards her castle. “I want to walk to school with you in the morning, so don’t go getting yourself in trouble, ok? I’m not about to lose a fr- uh, person, I just found over something so trivial.”

Evie cracks a smile, clearly not missing Carlos’ almost slip-up. Evil, hopefully he didn’t already ruin things by flat-out announcing his desperation by using a word only saved for the weakest of islers.

“Ok, I guess you’re right,” Evie chirps, and Carlos breathes a sigh of relief at the smile still bright on her face. “You’ll be careful though, right? Just...watch your back.”

Carlos raises a brow. “Of course. But...what do you think’s going to happen, Evie? I’m like, 50 feet from my front door.”

Evie bites her lip again, letting her eyes scan behind them, over alleyways and their quiet, abandoned path. She pauses for a moment to narrow her gaze on one darkened corner, and Carlos can feel his heart thudding harder in his chest as he examines her movements. But she finally eases her stance and turns back to face him.

“It’s...nothing. Really. It’s just - anything can happen, right? I worry about everything,” she dismisses with a chuckle. “I’ll..um...I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Do you, want to meet here? At 7? And...walk to school, together?”

Carlos immediately brightens at the idea, Evie matching his wide smile with her own. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Evie presses her smile down, offering a short wave before turning to follow the path towards her castle. Carlos watches for a moment, instinctively checking to make sure she’s safe before heading his own way. But he can’t help noticing her eyes continually darting back to that corner, as if waiting for something...or someone to emerge from the darkness.

Carlos tries to shake off his nerves as he watches Evie’s figure disappear around the mildly crumbling brick of her castle. After a final pause to listen for any sounds of distress, he takes a deep breath and starts the rest of his trek to Hell Hall alone.

At least, he thinks he’s alone.

And the muted silence deludes him into believing that that’s the case...for a while, at least. It’s not until he’s just about to ascend the steps to his front door that a distinct crunch of dry leaves behind him leaves him frozen in his tracks.

“Heh. Shit.”

Carlos spins on his heel, and comes face to face with...Jay? 

“Um..what’s up, short stuff?”

Carlos huffs at his words, his fists clenched as he tries his best to stare down one of the most intimidating boys at his new school. There’s no way he’s about to show fear when Jay’s right in front of his own home.

Wait, why is he at his home?

“W-what do you want?” Carlos presses, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “I-I know my house looks...big, but I don’t have-”

“Is the bitch home?”

Jay takes a slow step forward, and Carlos swallows. He’s barely a foot away now, and it feels so close. He can almost smell the sweat beading on Jay’s brow. He keeps his eyes trained down, with a blurring focus just below Jay’s chin, so as not to concentrate on the smirk he knows he’s giving him right now.

“Y-yeah. And she’ll probably beat my ass, a-and yours too, if I don’t get inside right away. I-I need to make...h-her dinner.”

Shit. That sounded so weak. Carlos dares a peek at Jay’s face, and it surprised to see the smile wiped away, and Jay chewing on his lip. He looks almost...worried.

And he surprises Carlos further by taking a generous step back, his arms raised in surrender.

“Well, wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Jay teases, and Carlos curls a sneer at his mocking tone. “Now, now, calm it down freckles. I’m not gonna get you in trouble, ok?”

Jay drops his hands into his pockets, hunching over to rock on his heels some.

“Doubt those eyes of yours would be so pretty with nasty purple bruises around ‘em. Until next time, then?”

Jay pulls out a hand to issue an awkward salute, quirking a smile as Carlos tilts his head, eyes narrowed and confused.

“Bye bye, Carlos De Vil.”

Jay turns and shuffles slowly down the path, kicking at random pieces of dirt and rocks on the way. He keeps his head down, refusing to look up or even cast a single glance behind him.

But Carlos stands unmoving, still staring at the weird thief with long, dark hair that’s tangling in the dry heat. He’s trying to make sense of what just happened, but all logic that could explain what just happened is lost on him. 

Did Jay just say his eyes were pretty?

[jaskiersvalley]

Hello. Your writing is very capturing. I spent last night on reading all your stuff and here I am, in your ask box. Especially the illiterate!Geralt is a good read. I saw a few hc about the witchers being unsettled by Jaskier being well... Jaskier and with no fear approach them and talk to them. After a while they started wondering if Jaskier is a human, but they can't smell magic on him. What he really is? How he managed to fool a witcher?

Welcome to my ask box Nonnie, it is a delight to have you here! Even better, you bring a prompt that has my little heart singing because writing about Jaskier and all the witchers is something I am rapidly falling in love with. So thank you, you have truly made my day.

While the continent was big, it was still rather limited in terms of numbers of contracts. So it was only natural that from time to time Geralt bumped into a fellow witcher. Sometimes he got there first, other times there was only a drink at a tavern to be had and maybe some quiet company if it was a fellow wolf he encountered. The perk of having Jaskier alongside him was that even if he missed out on a contract, Jaskier could earn their keep and food if coin was short. So there was no longer a vicious competition between him and other witchers which was such a nice change of pace. There was no worry that if he got to a contract late, he would have to spend the next however many nights in the woods and hunting for food because he couldn’t afford a meal at a tavern.

Sometimes Geralt would still be in the stable with Roach while Jaskier went ahead to get them a room and some food. Which was how Geralt walked into the inn and frowned when Jaskier wasn’t visible at the bar. Looking around, he wasn’t too difficult to spot, sitting opposite...Eskel?! Pleasant surprise flooded Geralt at the sight of a fellow wolf and he walked over. Already, Jaskier seemed to have made a new friend in the form of the other witcher and was chattering away, demanding details from a fight. He even looked horrified when he spotted the bloody bandage peeking out from under Eskel’s sleeve.

“Oh you poor thing,” Jaskier was reaching for Eskel’s arm without any hesitation and Geralt saw the surprise from the other witcher. Hell, he could even smell the suspicion and confusion coming off him.

“Maybe this would be better done in a room than where people might be trying to enjoy some food,” Geralt suggested. “Not everyone can eat after seeing a bloody arm.”

“Yes! Have a bath called up for us, would you?” Jaskier looked at Geralt with a smile before turning back to Eskel and guiding him up atairs. “And don’t forget to have dinner brought up too!”

By the time Geralt got to the room, Jaskier had gently bullied Eskel into showing the wyvern bite to him and was fussing over it. Above Jaskier’s head, Eskel sought out Geralt’s gaze with confusion.

Later that night, Geralt had a rather interesting conversation with Eskel, mostly consisting of “he doesn’t even smell of fear” to which the only reply was “he never did”.

They parted ways and Jaskier made sure Eskel had plenty of supplies and coin, sharing what he could of his own despite protestations.

Funnily enough, Lambert was next. Once again, Geralt had been preoccupied, this time he was sharpening his swords when the music died down sooner than expected. However, there was no sound of fighting or arguing so obviously Jaskier hadn’t gotten himself into trouble. Yet. When he didn’t go upstairs to their room, Geralt decided to venture down to make sure nothing untoward was happening. Like that time Jaskier had convinced the whole tavern to play some kind of strip card game that Geralt still didn’t understand and, quite frankly, didn’t really want to either.

The sight that greeted Geralt was both better and worse than anything he could have anticipated. Jaskier was in the corner, sitting at a table and opposite him was Lambert. Who was pressed up against the wall like a cornered cat and staring at Jaskier in horror and disgust while the bard talked his ear off. He seemed to be utterly oblivious to the fact Lambert looked ready to bolt.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted and there was a visible drop in anxieties.

“Geralt. This is-”

“Jaskier, I know. He’s with me.” Turning to Jaskier, Geralt pulled his coin pouch out. “Charm the barkeep into three strong ales, would you?”

As soon as Jaskier was away from the table, Lambert was leaning closer.

“What the hell is wrong with him? He just walked up to the table, sat down and started talking! He does realise we’re witchers, right?” He gestured towards Jaskier’s back. Geralt’s sigh of “yes” didn’t seem to help. Lambert ranted on. “I can do monsters, creatures and spirits. But whatever that is, it’s not human and it scares the shit out of me. Not even an whiff of fear or hesitation.”

“It’s just Jaskier. He’s friendly.” Geralt shrugged. He’d been there, the confusion and distrust at the absolute lack of any negative reaction from Jaskier. But he’d grown used to it.

“You keep the contract, I’m skipping out.” Lambert made to move and got almost to the door when Jaskier got back to the table and called his name. Like a dog caught stealing a sausage, Lambert slunk back sheepishly. At least he got ale out of it even if he had to sit through the most terrifying conversation of his life. Jaskier could talk, he’d give him that.

By morning, Lambert was gone and Jaskier pouted at the fact he couldn’t bid farewell to his newest friend properly.

Last but not least was Vesemir who they encountered on a dusty road between nameless towns.

“I’ve heard of you,” he told Jaskier who had been prancing around as he played his newest song. It had been stuck in his head for days, taking shape and now he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Alas I have not been granted similar privileges. Please forgive me, darling grey wolf. I am ignorant not through lack of interest but rather lack of sources.” Jaskier cast Geralt a side glance.

He was treated to a long, hard look by Vesemir who also took a subtle sniff of the air as he took a step closer to Jaskier. “They were right.”

Who the mysterious “they” were and what they were right about was a mystery to Jaskier but he wasn’t going to get answers because Vesemir nodded at them. “See you for the winter.”

As he turned to continue his path, Jaskier shouted after him. “Just a small token for our brief yet passionate meeting!” With that, he presented Vesemir a handkerchief in a flourish. Once again, the old witcher’s eyes drifted to Geralt before taking the offering, tucking it into his armour and turning with a nod.

“So, where are we going for winter?” Jaskier asked, hopping a lttle to catch back up with Geralt.

Kaer Morhen. That was the answer and Jaskier excitedly bustled through the doors. He and Geralt got set up in a room before making their way down to the others.

“Friends!” Jaskier yelled, arms in the air as he took in the three familiar witchers. “It is so good to see you again.”

He went around to hug all the witchers to varying degrees of success. While Eskel returned the hug with a small, entertained smile, Lambert was doing his best impression of a terrified statue. For his part, Vesemir accepted the hug but wasn’t too enthused by it.

Witchers didn’t need to sleep a lot so it wasn’t all that unusual for them to gather around a fire and talk late into the night. At first, Jaskier had tried to keep up but he needed sleep and often ended up fast asleep in Geralt’s lap while the others talked.

“I’ve never met anyone like him.” Eskel nodded towards Jaskier’s sleeping form.

“Not natural,” Lambert added. He had been doing his best to keep out the way as much as possible.

Even Vesemir weighed in, “He’s certainly a rarity. There’s no magic around him. No stench of enchantment or even the scent of a beast.”

“He’s plain old human,” Geralt said. “And just seems to have no concept of self-preservation around others. But trust me, he does feel fear.”

Which was how they ended up trying to find out what did elicit a response from Jaskier. Lambert’s idea of drinking a potion and wandering around with black eyes and veins backfired somewhat when Jaskier got ready to trek out with him to the fight he was no doubt preparing for.

Inviting Jaskier to train and spar hadn’t worked out either. No matter how much Eskel threw him around, disarmed him in more and more brutal ways and held swords to his throat, not once did Jaskier ever smell anything but tired.

Nobody was prepared for the ear splitting shriek one morning. It was definitely Jaskier but he hit a pitch even Geralt was stunned by. They all went rushing to the bathroom  to see what had happened. Bursting in, Jaskier was standing in the tub, suds sliding off his head and clutching a cloth to himself while Vesemir looked just as stunned, holding a basket of laundry.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

“I was merely here to hang up some clean clothes,” Vesemir replied.

“There I was,” Jaskier’s voice was still breathy with fright, “taking a nice bath and washing. Only to turn around and he was there. I’m putting a bell on you!”

The air was sour with his calming fear and, oddly, it seemed to settle the witchers. No longer was Jaskier some ethereal being without a single thing in the world that could scare him. From then on, both Lambert and Eskel seemed to take great delight in sneaking up on Jaskier and trying to scare him. There was something so soothing about knowing Jaskier could still be frightened to the point of outraged screeching. Especially when he cottoned on to the game and, once he was over the initial panic, he chased after the culprit until he could jump on their backs, smacking them playfully over the head until Geralt prised him off.

Even Lambert seemed a little more comfortable now that he knew Jaskier wasn’t infallible. By the end of winter, he was unofficially crowned winner of scaring Jaskier the most. Not that it was ever a race between him and Eskel. They absolutely didn’t have a tally hidden in the library with bonus points awarded for exceptionally memorable screams.

[vannahfanfics]

Dawn and Dusk Part V

Before you read, here’s Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV!

Category: Romantic Fluff, Angst

Fandom: Yona of the Dawn

Characters: Soo-Won, Yona

Requested by: @lilc77​ (Tumblr)

Hey, friend! I hope you’re ready for more YonaWon! This is for the first of the batch that you requested for the theme “sexual tension and desire.” I thought it would fit perfectly within my ongoing “Dawn and Dusk” series of oneshots, so I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

The study echoed with gentle flip of pages. Yona sat among the towering tomes, her legs tucked primly underneath her so the thick, leather-bound book could rest on her thighs. Her dawn-colored eyes scoured the printed words carefully, though in the back of her mind, she doubted that a biological survey of Kouka Kingdom’s bird species would prove fruitful in her endeavor. Though she knew nothing would be hidden in the text, she entertained herself for a few moments more with the detailed illustrations of the songbirds and descriptions of their behavior. She got like this from time to time, looking for escape in the useless paragraphs after yet another day of finding nothing. 

Her fingertips skimmed over the inked drawing of a finch, its feathers painted in brilliant watercolor hues. The “sunrise finch,” it was nicknamed, not only for its brilliant red and yellow plumage, but also its propensity to be the first of the indigenous birds to rise. It awoke in the mere minutes before dawn to herald the oncoming sun with sweet tunes of the morning. Yet as the golden sun spilled across the trees, it would fall silent, its beautiful song swallowed up by the dawn chorus of other birds. Brief and fleeting, like the sunrise it worshipped. 

Yona wondered if that was her fate, to be brief and fleeting like the dawn. 

Sighing, she closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. Rather than grab another from the small stack beside her, she sat there a moment, reaching back to massage the flesh of her shoulder. Though soaking in the bath— however brief that was thanks to her surprise encounter with Soo-Won— had improved the strain significantly, she still found it twinging throughout the day. Perhaps I should retire early and give it some rest, she wondered, but looking down at the books next to her, Yona knew that would not happen. She had to keep searching, searching for any clues to the puzzle that existed between herself and Soo-Won. 

She turned to the window, where the moonlight streamed in to bathe the study in white, at least where the soft yellow light of the lantern beside her could not reach. She wondered if there was a bird that also called to the setting sun and rising moon. Did it mourn the loss of the sun, or did it welcome the appearance of the stars and night sky? Perhaps there was no bird at all, but a king’s fanfare is close enough, she supposed. Dusk had ruled this land ever since her father’s death, as the pale moon sat upon the throne, merely reflecting the light of the sun. A false light, but, did that mean it was no less worthy? She wondered that as she gazed at the sliver of moon hanging low in the sky. Dusk, dawn… It was all light, wasn’t it, chasing away the darkness? 

Who am I to truly say which is better? Yona thought with a sigh, looking back down at her lap. She felt her eyes begin to burn with the familiar sensation of salty tears brewing in the ducts. She often got this way when the watchful nights closed in, cast in light only by her flickering lantern. Everything was still so confusing; she knew not what path to take, what she should do for her people. It was maddeningly frustrating. She really only knew one thing these days, and that is that she still loved Soo-Won, achingly so, despite everything that had happened. 

The first tear slipped down her cheek just as the door to the study opened. Yona quickly swept it away with the sleeve of her kimono as Soo-Won walked in, a look of mild surprise on his face. 

“Ah. You’re still here? It’s awfully late.” 

“I could say the same to you,” she said, but not icily. “I wanted to look through another book or so before finishing up for the night. What about you?” she asked as he navigated through the stacks upon stacks of volumes covering the floor and sat at his small desk. He picked up his quill with a tut, uncapping the inkwell and dipping the pointed tip of the writing utensil into the black muck. 

“I have some reports that I have not yet read or signed off on,” he explained, skimming the contents of the first page before scribbling his signature on the bottom. He set it aside for the ink to dry, then began reading the next. 

Yona looked back to her stack of books, knowing that she should pick one up, but her desire to investigate any further had suddenly vanished. She looked back to the shelf, then stood to retrieve the book of bird species. She flipped back to the page about the sunrise finch, then slowly walked over to Soo-Won. He glanced up when she approached, then looked down at the open book in her hands. 

“Soo-Won… Have you ever seen this bird?” She turned it around so he could see the illustration. He studied it for a moment, then nodded. 

“Yes… They actually nest in the palace gardens,” he explained, and looked up when Yona gasped in delight. How had she never known such a gorgeous bird had a home in the plants right outside her window? Well… It wasn’t exactly often that she found herself up before dawn. However, that would soon change. She would wake up first thing tomorrow to catch a glimpse of this bird. 

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to your paperwork,” Yona said, then looked down at the bird and its brilliant sunrise plumage. She wondered if it would be as stunning in person. She was sure it would be. The anticipation brought a smile to her face, and so she replaced the book on the shelf. The sooner she got to sleep, the sooner the dawn would come. 

Soo-Won spoke as she headed to the door. 

“You were crying.” 

She stiffened. He had seen? She’d thought she’d been slick. She could feel his aqua eyes boring into her back, making warmth spread all over her back. His stare beckoned her like a siren call; she was helpless to his song, causing her to turn slowly around to face him. His expression wasn’t judgmental, not that she had expected it to be in the first place— it was sad, or guilty, even. 

He turned in his chair so he could hold his hand out to her. Entranced by that silent magnetic melody, Yona’s body moved of its own accord; she crossed the room to take his outstretched hand. His touch was soft as his fingers moved over hers, giving just the slightest tug to pull Yona until she was standing in front of him. He reached up with his free hand to brush over the tear stains she’d thought she’d scrubbed away, ghosting over the slightly reddened skin with a heartbroken look. 

“How is your shoulder?” Such an innocent question so at odds with the way his fingers skipped down to her shoulder, fingertips inching under her kimono to brush over the skin. She tried not to twitch at the electricity that shot through her nerves. Her body was stunned, electrified by his ministrations, but her tongue seemed to work just fine. 

“It’s better.” 

He didn’t say anything, just tilted his head while continuing to massage the top of her shoulder. Her heart thumped against her chest as her kimono sleeve slipped fully off her shoulder, exposing her upper arm and even the barest hint of the curve of her breast. Soo-Won’s eyes flickered up to hers, inspecting the minute twitches of her fate for discomfort. He didn’t find any, because why would he? By now, he knew the depths of Yona’s feelings, the way she yearned for his touch despite everything that had happened. 

When did his other arm snake around her hips? It had circled around her without her knowing, so she gasped when she felt him pull her forward until she bumped against his knees. He quirked a brow— a silent invitation. She bit down on her lip, debating. 

Would any good come from yielding to her desires? She should focus on ferreting out his plans for her kingdom, not yielding to her more base compulsions. Yet as Soo-Won’s aqua eyes met hers, she felt her inhibitions melting away as easily as that silk had slid off her shoulder. With a breath of his name, she climbed onto his lap, pressing every inch of their bodies together that she could. Soo-Won’s hands pushed into her dawn-colored hair with a reverent sigh, prompting her to crane her head back into his palms. 

He pressed his mouth to the column of her throat in an open-mouthed kiss. He lingered there for several moments, and then murmured against her skin, “I’m sorry. Ever since we met again, I have caused you pain.” 

Yona’s throat bobbed against his lips as she swallowed. Her eyelashes fluttered to fight back the tears, but they came anyway. Soo-Won must have felt the tears dripping down into his hair, because he sat up to press wispy kisses over her ruddying cheeks to catch the salty streams. “My selfishness has caused you pain,” he murmured against her face. “I tried, but… Yona, I love you so…” 

“I know,” Yona said with a shuddering breath. “I know. I love you too, Soo-Won, though it vexes me.” She curled her neck so she could bury her face into his hair. She inhaled deeply, and the scent of him flooded her nose— parchment, rose water, and a crisp coolness she could only characterize as moonlight. She wondered if she smelled like the dawn, spicy and warm? 

Soo-Won kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts. Just as a small bit of lucidity returned to her, he began a path up her neck and over her chin to claim her lips in a steamy, hungry kiss. Yona perched on his lap while his fingers roved up and down her back, leaving sparks in their wake. She tangled her tongue eagerly with his, and he tasted like cool moonlight, too. Her mind clouded over like it was filled with cotton as heat built up within her, like she was a pot filling with steam. 

Just as she felt ready to burst, he pulled away. Cool air rushed through her, chilling the warmth inside of her, and she exhaled shakily. Soo-Won petted her cheek with that sad look on his face again. She still trembled atop him, not sure how to feel. These short, passionate moments between them had become such a regular occurrence that it was hard to feel guilt or shame anymore. 

“Soo-Won,” she murmured, and his fine eyelashes fluttered when he looked up at her. They’d just exchanged some very passionate kisses, but she still blushed when she meekly asked, “Would you… Would you show me the sunrise finch tomorrow morning?” 

He seemed surprised by her question, his eyes going wide. Then, his face relaxed into a sweet smile. 

“I would love to. It has been a while since I’ve seen them myself.” 

When Yona prepared to get off him, his hands tightened around her hips. 

“Stay?” he asked, quietly, pleadingly. Yona tensed at first, then slowly relaxed when she saw the way he was staring down at his desk— so sadly, so miserably. Yona knew she ought not to, but she draped herself over him anyway, nestling her head on his shoulder. He held her against him with one arm while he turned to resume tending to his documents. Yona closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his chest rising and falling against hers, his heartbeat thumping against her sternum. It didn’t take long for hers to synchronize with his. Lulled by the melody of their tandem breaths and heartbeats, Yona found herself drifting into a comfortable sleep. The dawn would come eventually, and Yona would have to tend again to her priorities. However, for at least a few sweet hours, she would allow herself to bathe in the cool white light of the dusk— in Soo-Won and his deep, unconditional, heart-wrenching love for her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.1 (spicyhoney)

Summary:  When Red came to Edge and told him he needed to show him something in Alphys's lab, this was not what he had in mind.

Notes: Lots of people seemed to like the idea, so heck, I am expanding on it. Thank you everyone for your interest, it drives my mental writing machine. 😊

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge clutched the little bundle in his arms closer as he slogged through the snowdrifts. A thin, unhappy wail rose from the tightly wrapped blanket, a tiny waft of vapor rising with it. Edge could only hold the baby tighter, vainly trying to silence the child before their cries carried.

Uselessly. He could already hear the guards behind him, a rabble of snarling and incoherent threats mingled with large bodies crashing through the low-lying frostbitten shrubs and branches of Snowdin wood. Edge ducked behind a tree trunk, crouching, already braced for the near-euphoric rush brought by a large increase in EXP. There could be no survivors, none to follow them.

He waited and didn’t bother trying to silence the baby again, let her wavering shrieks lead the way into an attack that he never had to send. Even as the first few came into view, they fell to the ground shrieking, clawing at their very skin. A Check showed KR shearing away their HP, gouging away chunks as their screams overshadowed the child’s wails.

He didn’t wait to watch them dust. From behind him came a familiar voice, weary and ragged, “keep going, bro, we’re almost there.”

Almost there. Edge got back to his feet, stumbling as his knees nearly gave out. He caught himself in time, leaning against the tree trunk to catch his balance. There was no time to waste, none at all, and still he took a moment to tuck the blanket back around the baby where one tiny fist had worked its way loose to flail in the cold.

“Easy, little one,” he crooned, hardly recognizing his own hoarse voice. “We’re almost there. We’ll be safe soon, I promise you.” He didn’t look down into those pale eye lights, distantly afraid that the child would see the lie on his face. He started walking again in the direction of the cave where their machine was hidden away from any prying eyes. His brother started out at his heels, the snow drifts should have given him more trouble simply based on his height, but Red soon outdistanced him, clearing a path for Edge to stumble along even as the child’s cries grew weaker in the cold.

Almost there, to the machine, to the portal, and to Underswap.

Red was already clearing away the carefully placed barricade around the entrance to the cave. It looked as if an avalanche covered it, but there was a certain place where the snow and stones were thin, barely large enough for a broad skeleton and his tall brother to make it through. Edge helped him as best he could with only one free hand, for once carelessly scattering stone and slush, taking no pains to hide their path. It didn’t matter, they wouldn’t be coming back here again.

Edge tried not to think of everything they were leaving behind at their house. A tattered old book, a ridiculous pet rock, a sock and its collection of threatening notes. None of that was as important as their lives. As her life.

Red cleared the last of the rubble away and gestured towards the entrance. “g’wan, bro, you first.”

Normally, he would have refused. He was far better equipped to take a dishonorable blow to the back than Red was, and he could tell at a glance that his brother’s magic reserves were running far too low for any of his shortcuts.

But there wasn’t time for an argument. He cradled the child close to his chest as he crawled through the small opening. Inside, the cave opened up and he walked unsteadily towards the blinking colored lights that shone through darkness to the far back, where the machine loomed silently, waiting.

Edge didn’t look at his brother while he set the coordinates, ones that he knew as well as his own callused soul. He didn’t watch Red going through what he’d gleefully dubbed the ‘oh, shit’ protocols when he’d set them up, arming the explosives that were already set. They’d always known it might come to this; it was one of the reasons they’d moved the machine out of their basement to begin with. The only question was which side of the portal they would be on when it happened.

A last tap on the controls and Edge pressed the red button, watching as the black, depthless vortex swirled into sight, shimmering with same mysterious power as it always had. Red dusted off his hands, climbing to his feet with a grunt as he walked over to where Edge was standing. In his arms, the child’s whimpers faded in querulous little sounds as she sucked on her tiny fingers, staring up at him with wide, pale eye lights. As insignificant as her weight was, his arm was beginning to ache from holding her.

Red gave him a nudge in the femur with one elbow, digging painfully into the bone. “let’s go, boss.”

“No,” Edge said decisively even as he strode forward. “Not Boss, not any longer.”

Red only shrugged and followed him. “whatever you say, bro.”

The last thing he heard as he stepped through the portal was the soft click of his brother’s thumb on the detonator.

On the other side, from icy cave into a tidy basement, there was no sign that the explosives had done their work. Not so much as a tremor came through and the portal faded away as it always did. But when Red logged the coordinates to their world into the machine, it came up with the message ‘not found’.

It was enough. It would have to be.

Edge took a moment to catch his breath, closing his sockets and listening to the stillness of the basement, of the little gurgling, pleading cries from the child, of his brother’s sneakers on the cement floor. Then he went up the stairs and braced himself to go back out into the freezing cold after the relatively mild chill of the basement.

The path around the house to the front door was shoveled clear, with no traps or signs warning that trespassers could fuck off, one of Red’s charming additions to their home defenses. No, not home, not any longer, he couldn’t think about that right now. He let his feet carry them to the front porch where he rapped firmly on the door beneath the twinkling lights.

It opened and there wasn’t enough left in Edge for even a fraction of surprise that Stretch answered it for once, his lanky frame all but sprawled against the door jamb as he leaned out. The relief at seeing him left Edge nearly weak; all his reserves had been used up getting them this far and now that salvation was in sight, his will was beginning to waver.

That face, like and unlike his own, the sight of which often left Edge torn between snarling into it and kissing that pretty mouth where so many sly insults were offered with painful accuracy. Edge had done both, sometimes only seconds apart as they rolled around on the bare mattress that Stretch called a bed, and he still couldn’t say which he preferred. When it came to Stretch, there was little in the way of answers as to how Edge felt about him, but there was at least one he knew for certain.

Stretch would never let anyone hurt a child.

Whatever greeting he’d been about to offer- depending on his mood, it could be flirtatious, antagonistic, or perhaps even a truly awful pun— died unspoken as Stretch’s gaze dropped to the baby, who was by now whimpering in his arms. His sockets went incredulously wide, his eye lights narrowing into pinpricks of white, his mouth working soundlessly as he stared.

“is that a fucking baby?” he said finally.

“good guess, dumbass,” Red snorted, stamping the snow off his shoes. “puttin’ that phd of yours to good use.”

“Don’t swear,” Edge said automatically. “Can we please come inside?” Normally, the cold wouldn’t have bothered him so much but with his magic depleted, he was starting to shiver, unconsciously clutching the warm bundle closer until the child babbled a complaint.

Stretch nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get out of their way, yanking the door all the way open. “yeah, yeah, sure, fu—udgcicles, jumped up jiminy gyftmas, yes, get in here!”

On any other day, he would never have considered stepping onto the carpet without removing his boots. Today Edge could only stagger to the sofa, collapsing down on the cushion and staring dully at the footprints of melting snow that he’d left across the carpet.

He could hear Stretch speaking, demanding answers from him and Red as he slammed the door shut, but he was too weary to answer. He settled a hand on the baby’s chest, let her grasp his chilled fingers in her little hands as he let his head wearily drop back on the sofa cushions, soaking in the first beginning trickles of warmth that he’d felt since he’d made his mad dash from Hotland, leaving the smoldering wreck of the lab behind him.

The baby was finding no satisfaction from gnawing on his fingertips and as her cries increased in urgency, Edge could only lay on that ratty old sofa and wonder at what the hell he was going to do now.

tbc

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 28 (NSFW)

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Read chapter twenty-seven

Title: You Need Me

Words: 5.9k

Summary: Third time’s the charm, right?

Warnings: Lost orgasm

ST Rambles: WOW! Not me posting a chapter a chapter after only two weeks. Nuts, really. As of now, this semester is much less of... it's just less fucking nonsense, if I am being honest. I am getting very excited about my future and where I will be this time next year. I have an interview on February 27th for a new-grad RN residency program. It's all just very strange and adult right now.

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER // @elmidol​

However short it might be, you thought you would like to spend the rest of forever exactly like this.

The sun remained hidden, and the light of the moon had faded, leaving you shrouded in darkness and engulfed in the heat of Kylo Ren’s resting form. Not a limb had moved from what you could remember before dozing off last night, your legs kept woven with his, cheek melting into his solid chest, the broad hand between your shoulders less stark in its effort to keep you against him. Still, the world vaguely existing beyond the canopy around you, you remained tucked into him, unsure if you had ever felt this amount of peace before. One difference now, something you’d never had the chance to experience, was the faint tickle of deep, rhythmic breath coming from the sleeping warrior who caressed you.

Twelve. Twelve perfect, dazed breaths kissed your forehead and sent mild sparks dancing along your skin; they followed thoughts of absent nightmares, nightmares that always seemed to keep away when he was near. Looking at him, peering up to see the vulnerability in his slackened mouth and long, looming eyelashes framing the dying purple that lay beneath them, you could tell he had not slept this well since Starkiller. Maybe even before then. Quietly, you allowed yourself somewhat of a small victory at the thought.

You did not know what to do, not wanting to wake him, yet aware that you needed to get ready for your shift. The calendar-chip Karmen had given you had transferred its data into your watch, but your watch was rooms away – worlds away – resting on the refresher floor. The transport ship would be waiting at the front entrance at six, but that had to be at least an hour away if you were banking on the soft darkness surrounding you, not quite remembering what it felt like waking up to real sunlight.

So, ever so slightly, making every effort to silence your breath and shifting, you loosed from his hold and led his arm lightly back down to the bed, watching him for any sign of disturbance. Through the distance, you heard the early, soft ebbing of the sea, noting how it complemented the push of Kylo’s exhales. He did not seem to stir, not even a lapse in his breathing when you rolled onto your back and tugged the linens up to cover your chest, the cold of the room taking residence over the skin previously pressed to the hearth of his own.

Your Master. The Commander of the First Order. Kylo Ren. How strange it was to be here, to see up close every healed and healing scar, to witness the slight twitch in his brow, to study the handsome line of his nose and the various moles that flecked along his cheeks. This was the strongest, most feared and lethal man in the galaxy, and here you were fawning over the light spray of sparce freckles sprawled along his cheekbones. A privilege, you thought, to have the man who haunted nightmares keep your very own at bay.

Lips pressed together, eyes full of wonder, you let the very tips of your fingers trace the raven haze of hair that splayed beneath his dreaming face. And when the dark ends met his shoulder, you risked a featherlight touch over the hand you had earlier placed. An intricate, beautiful pattern of veins jutted out on its surface, his long fingers curled into a weak fist, your focus lingering along the scars cut into his knuckles. A life of scrapes and training and battle and bruises lived in his skin, the veins beneath treading paths along them, like a map, like a guidebook to each blight of hurt that ghosted their blue trails. You swallowed a giggle, wondering if you would pick a sixteen or a fourteen-gauge needle to start an IV on him.

Running your fourth finger along the prominent vein that fled gracefully along his entire arm, you kissed the inside of his wrist, watching his face and never wanting to disturb him, but needing to feel him. A slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth made your heart jump, choking back a gasp when a curl of hair swept over his eyes. Another fascination, how full his lips were; you touched them, a sneaking whisper of your fingers, pulling down on the bottom one and leaning in closer and closer, warmth fogging your hand, your face, his features unmoving and mild.

The elegant brutality that now crowned his features – it was healing, its edges no longer raised and red, but flush with their binding. Two weeks ago his face had been unmarred, but the whole of you found this new normal breathtaking, heart-stopping. Beholding him now brought you back to that desperate moment, just before he’d carried you to bed, when you clung to him because you believed you’d never get another chance.

Palm flat to his chest, above his heart, following the lead of his lungs, you closed your eyes and rested your lips to the corner of his mouth, and said, quieter than the very thought of a whisper, “I never wanted to hurt you.” A ghosted kiss. “I never wanted to leave then, and…” The steady beat of his heart remained, the rush of your own silencing the tide of the waking bay. With his next breath, with an aching chest that held nothing of the pain it had previously, you breathed, “I never wanted to leave then, and I never want to leave again.”

Not a single tear, not even the suggestion of one, nothing but adamant truth tapping against the canopy’s silence. You needed him here, no longer caring if it stole the innocence and vulnerability of sleep’s caress.

“Kylo,” you whispered, kissing him with intent, coaxing him awake.

A deep, sharp inhale. You could not trap the smile that broke across your cheeks.

A nuzzle against his nose, curious fingers breeching that sea of obsidian tresses. “Kylo, wake up.”

He hummed, his lips finally leading into yours when he left his dream’s embrace. Like he had not wanted it moved, his hand reclaimed your back and pressed you against him, his other hiking your leg atop his own, the feel of his skin warming you to your very center. Nearly melded against him, his bare torso to yours, you felt him harden, felt the heat of his cock grow and thicken, become weighted as it filled and filled. You caught an unbidden gasp, leaning away from him long enough to see the mischief that danced in his eyes.

His arms coiled around you as he stretched, a cant of his hips to finish off the gesture. He was looking down at you, first at your face, then over your body, the skim of his eyes heavy when you could see their every tick. Kylo slid a rough hand up your leg, stopping just beneath the curve of your ass and anchoring himself to the scorching skin of your inner thigh. When he looked back to your eyes, searing amber swallowed by the shadows of the room, you smiled and ground yourself into his erection. Kylo growled in approval, your lips gracing his and feeling the depth of the vibration on his lips.

“You know,” he sighed, sleep heavy in his voice, “they should add assault and battery to your charges.” Those fingers around your thigh reached deeper.

“Hm, and why is that?”

“Because,” he nipped your bottom lip, “I didn’t consent to any of this.”

His crooning tone filtered into your veins, amusement blooming in your chest. “You were asleep. If anything, I was being considerate.”

“Considerate, mm?” Your fingers fisted at his nape, the hand at your back gliding up to do the same. “I guess I’ve been very considerate both times I’ve woken up before you, then.”

“Kylo Ren: considerate,” you chuffed a giggle, “I don’t know about that.”

“Really?” he rumbled, light yet venomous. Kylo tread parted lips along your jaw, your ear lobe slipping between them before he pulled you in and whispered with pride and claim, “Because that first morning, before I left you to sleep in my bed,” the hand around your thigh shifted upward, just grazing your slit, “I stared at the bruises I’d made the previous night, stared at how they’d grown and how they all belonged to me.”

The tip of his tongue slid along the shell of your ear, a pant parting your lips when his cock throbbed into your abdomen.

Kylo’s tone had lowered and thickened when he next spoke, “I thought about waking you up, then,” the tip of his finger pushed into the wetness that had gathered between your legs, a pleasured hum rolling out of him, “thought about fucking my hand while I watched you sleep, knowing my cum had dried onto your thighs overnight.”

Hot, masterful fingers parted your folds, your breath stuck in your throat as Kylo stared into you, watching you when his touch brushed lazily against your clit. His eyes narrowed in knowing pride when yours seemed to flutter, hiking your leg up further, trying to get another graze of his touch. An effort in vain. His hips canted again, slowly this time, stroking himself against the soft skin of your belly.

“I wanted to fuck you awake, really, wanted the first thing you were aware of to be me splitting you open, wanted to see your eyes lull and widen when you realized what was going on.” A second tease of those fingers, slick slipping past your entrance. “And I could have, you know,” he drawled, a third nudge over your stiffened bud, a tug at the nape of your neck.

He waited, observing you before you asked through shuddering breath, “What do I know?”

An upward slant to those plush lips, a tongue running along his teeth, a viper behind his eyes. “You know that I can have you whenever, however I want—” his fingers began a slow, circling pattern, passing over and over that sweet spot “—because you’re always ready for me, always wet.” His hand shifted so it was his thumb rolling over the buzzing nerves, and the tips of three bare, slickened fingers teased your core. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You ground into him, begging for more of him, the length of his cock burning into you, slipping against your stomach as precum slicked his shaft. With as much nonchalance as you could muster, which was near zilch as you held back hums and winces with each pass of his thumb, you sighed, “Maybe, or perhaps you’re forgetting my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Maybe not right now,” he purred, pumping and circling his fingers, effectively inching you toward climax, “give it time. Give me time.”

“What are you talking about?” you panted, pushing your body into his hand, reaching the very brink of pleasure.

His hips canted, he grunted, and when you winced, seethed with pleasure, felt it tighten in your belly and quiver along your legs, Kylo stopped.

“No,” you whined, “no! That’s just cruel,” you pulled his face from your neck, “Kylo, what-,”

He said nothing, but there was something unreadable in his expression that stopped you from readying for battle. It appeared like something had just clicked for him, his eyes so distant he could have been in an entirely different galaxy for all you knew. Just as fast as he was gone, he returned with passive pomp settling a smirk into his face.

You studied him, confused and stunted, but if he wanted to return from wherever he’d gone, so would you. “Hey!” You punched his shoulder. “What the hell?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

He ground his teeth, sucking them before the most sardonic smile cast over his features. “You should get dressed,” he cooed your name, the sweet tone widening your eyes, feeling the challenge in it, “I would hate for you to be late to your second first day.” He hummed, laving his gaze over the sweat glittering along your heaving chest, tiding viciously with unsated breath. “We both know what happened the first time.”

With a raised brow, “I have two capable hands,” you countered, pushing away from him. “I don’t need you.”

Quicker than you could register, he had both your hands pinned beside your head, his broad, structured body pressing fully into you. “You do need me,” he breathed, nothing feral in his tone, but sure, not a shred of doubt when he said, “you need me, and for this to work-,”

“For what to work?”

He kept quiet for a moment, a decision weighing on him, focus flicking between your eyes and the light that teased beyond the windows, along the horizon. It appeared as if time would have permitted, if the sun had slept in a second longer, he would have answered you. You saw it in his eyes, when he peered down to you, his hair a shield from the rest of the world, you saw that whatever rested against his lips – it would have changed everything you knew. Everything you did not know.

But instead, with a swallow and a sigh, he simply said, “For this to work, you do need me.”

You tested a hand from under his, slipping it so your thumb smoothed along his flushed ear. Flitting your attention between his stark, serious eyes, feeling the panting of his parted lips, you knew you were right when you said, “We need each other.” Your other hand found its earlier home over his chest; staring at its placement, feeling every smooth, unrelenting beat of his heart, you declared, “for this to work, we need each other.”

Another quiet moment, and when you looked up, you found the very beginnings of dawn claiming the shadows that had earlier claimed his irises. Pushing his hair back, you could see that even though you were right – you did need each other – he didn’t want it to be true. Not that it seemed to anger him, but something remained hidden, kept quiet in his gaze, something taut and unyielding; something, it seemed, he did not want to admit – to you or himself.

He nodded. Not a word, not a breath. But more than you would have expected from him in the past.

Equal.

“You could have just let me finish and then been dramatic, you know?” you sighed, easing back from intensity when something of amusement softened his face.

“At least for today,” he purred your name, “your world will revolve around me.”

“And why is th-oh,” the Force nudged your bud, laved at it just as his tongue might.

He leaned down one last time, lips to your ear. “Because you’re not cumming until I let you, and you have a twelve-hour orientation shift to look forward to today.” An icy thrill swept your veins when he promised, “I intend to make each one of those hours memorable.”

“You won’t be anywhere near me.”

“As I’ve found recently,” his hand teased along your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting the very tip of your nipple. When you shuddered, he hummed, “distance is no longer a barrier.”

Even through the haze of lust, there was no hiding the contempt in your voice when you barked, “And you figured that out how? Through training? While you’re still healing from not even two weeks ago?”

Kylo did not say anything, instead leaning back and letting you out from under him. He was still hard, but you had no time or want to care about that fact. Kylo watched as you stormed from the canopy and gathered your clothes from the refresher, nearly stomping. Through the gossamer fabric, you saw he was amused with you, and when you pulled on yesterday’s uniform to make the short distance to your room, he stood from the bed and sauntered toward you.

“Didn’t Belkar give you orders to not strain yourself for at least a month?” Your arms were crossed to your chest, your remaining belongings tucked beneath them. “You know, you aren’t invincible. You have to know that by now, right? Because I sure as hell do.” The image of his comatose form slithered in and out of memory. You shuddered. “Can’t you just do what’s good for yourself? This once?”

He took the step up from the bed’s level, the heightening sun glowing behind him, crowding the pale blue of the sky with every step that brought him closer. Lazily, like you weren’t lecturing him, he ran the flat of his fingers along his shaft, cocking his head when he stopped a pace away from you.

“Why would I listen to his orders?”

“Okay, then it’s my order,” you said, “because if you want to be stubborn, fine. But if I need you, then I need you at your best, not hurt and half-healed because your skull is too thick and your ego is too big to process that no matter if you are Kylo Ren, you are still human. And I am your care provider. And… I… say so.”

His lips twitched. “You say so?”

Although you barely believed the authority in your tone, you held steady, “Yes, Commander Ren, I say so.”

He’d never looked at you quite like he was now, something of stunned pride gleaming behind a much more fortified front of command. Closing the space between you, your back meeting the chilled black of the door, Kylo leaned down and studied your crossed arms. Knowing mischief flashed in them before he sought your gaze and met you with a face full of challenge.

“First,” he rumbled, his breath on your lips, “address me by my name or my title, not that rank. Ever again. Understood?”

Eyes on his plush, dawn-kissed mouth. “Yes. Second?”

“Second,” tongue in cheek, the hand he’d busied with his erection came up and plucked an article from your arms. It was only after his face became the youngest you’d seen it – taunting eyes and a broad, pompous smile – when you realized what hung from the tip of his forefinger. “I suppose mine might be more comfortable than your own?”

Your mouth fell open – in horror or at his audacity, you did not know. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, waiting for you to squirm as you viewed his boxer-briefs just inches from your face. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“They are, actually. So, if you don’t mind—” you plucked them from his grasp, not breaking his stare for a second “—I’ll take these.” He only looked between your eyes, his own glinting with amusement. “And here—” you balled up your own panties and clasped your hand to his, tucking both to his chest and smiling sweetly “—if I’ve put you out too many pairs.”

A few seconds passed where all you did was take victory in the stunned setting of his features, and when you reached to activate the door, he caught your hand and pressed a long, hard, lusting kiss to your mouth. When he finished, both of you panting, he circled a canine with the tip of his tongue and took a step back.

“Good luck today,” the door shot open and your heart thrummed at the whoosh of ice over your back. With the tone of his next words – slithering, toying, smug – and remembering his promise to make the hours memorable, you knew he meant nothing to do with your occupation when he said, “you’ll need it.”

Sighing, you stepped into the vacant landing, and shot him one final smirk. “I have my watch if you need me,” you swept your gaze over his bare, muscled body, “if you want me.” No matter if you’d meant to, you’d initiated a game, and for the first time in so long, you were excited to play.

In the few steps from his room to your own, you waited for the gentle lock that indicated the door’s close, but it never came. For a second, you wondered if it had shut and you just did not hear it, but you felt those dark, peering eyes and knew his gaze was following your every move. So when you activated your door, took one step past the threshold, you pulled the skirt of your uniform over your head and stretched your arms above, your bare back arched and ass on display.

In a marked taunt, you purred, “Think of me fondly in my absence, Master Ren.”

You did not wait for a response before activating the door to shut, but one still came in the form of an overwhelming, buzzing pulse between your legs. A high-pitched mewl accompanied your trip forward, yipping until ten endless seconds passed and the pleasure thrumming along your slit subsided.

Game on.

[HORIZONTILE LINE]

With a fresh uniform, and Kylo’s briefs hugging your curves, you strode through the manor – although, you were still unsure what to call this place – and meandered your way around until you found a kitchen. Some of the staff acknowledged you with a small nod, others too busy cutting exotic fruits and preparing for breakfast. Which, passing by two intricately stacked and arranged platters, you knew most of the food being prepared would just as quickly be disposed of.

A woman in a black uniform guided you out of the bustling kitchen, taking you to a dining room. In it was a long table, undoubtedly used for meetings and manipulation, filled with trays of meats and fruits and carafes of juices, a metal one indicative of milk or cream. A large, insulated pot with a gilded, floral handle, steamed at the far end of the table. Caffeine.

There was limited time to eat, only about thirty minutes before the transport arrive, so you took a plate, painted too intricately with the flowers you’d walked through last night, and gathered whatever sustenance might help you make it to lunch. Most importantly, you filled a delicate mug with piping hot caf and carried everything into an adjoining room.

No lights were on, only the rising dawn filtering through thin veils of curtains, and Talia sat at the very end of the otherwise empty, centered table. She was dressed, but looked disheveled, at least for her typical put-together appearance. She wasn’t working alongside you, you knew – your assignment at Canto Bight’s medbay purely aimed at incriminating you – but it was still nice to have a friend, one who was under the same roof and not acting strangely.

Her hands were clamped onto either side of her head and there was a plate of picked-at food pushed to the side, a glass of water placed before her sunken head.

“Hey, Tal,” you started, noting her subtle jump at your voice. When she gave a subtle wave, you took a seat next to her and asked, however redundant, “How’re you feeling this morning?”

A long sigh, fingers comforting her temples. “Do I look that bad?”

A pause, considering. She looked quite pale, but there was no sheen of sweat over her forehead. She was breathing a bit quickly, and her mouth appeared to be parted, like she could be sick at any second. “Well, you’ve looked better, but I’ve seen you at your worst.” A look around the room, tuning your ears to the clang of the kitchen. “Is it nausea?” you whispered.

“Stars,” she winced, more in theatrics than pain, “I’ve spent more time over a toilet than anywhere else since the beginning of this thing.”

You chewed at a fruit you’d never had before, swallowing before saying, “Is it just in the morning or is it all day?”

“Morning sickness is a cruel lie they tell unsuspecting women,” she cleared her throat, finally peering up to you. “At least that’s what I have concluded.”

“Did you sleep last night?” There were purple splotches under her reddened eyes.

A shy smile slipped onto her face, quickly faltering. “I could have gotten more.”

Your brows raised, realizing Talia had a similar night to your own. “Oh?” you hummed.

“A private half of this villa?” she lowered her voice, swallowing, looking to the arch that peered out of the room, “and then adjoined rooms? It’s like they want us to have affairs with our assignments.”

“Well,” you sighed, recounting your night and morning, “perhaps. If that’s the case, can I assume where you slept last night?”

She loosed a breath of amusement. “Shockingly, no.” She shook her head, closing her eyes again before explaining, “I haven’t told him. Yet. Still. I stayed with him until he fell asleep but made it back to my room before I could hurl up everything I’d eaten yesterday.” A small, bitter laugh. “Do you know how impossible it is to throw up quietly?”

A warm sip of caf and you tapped her wrist, earning her attention back. Eyes filled with concern, you asked, quieter than the distant shore, “Are you afraid to tell him?”

“I’ve tried,” she sighed, completely exasperated, “This past week I have had so many opportunities – traveling here, the last few days on the Finalizer… last night.” Talia ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “I want to tell him. I need to, if I’m being honest. Time sensitive issue and everything.”

“Has he suspected anything, or do you know?”

A gloom shrunk her features, her focus shifting to the window behind your shoulder. “I think that’s why I haven’t told him. Armitage is always busy, running off to this place and that. I love the time I spend with him, I do. But, his lifestyle isn’t necessarily… compatible, I guess. Not with a baby. Not with, not with a partner. Not with me.”

“Oh, Talia.”

“No, I’m okay,” she shrugged, sad eyes going back to her glass, “I think I’m just biding my time. Preparing for the worst.”

“And what would the worst be, here?”

The room went silent, still, a few staff members replacing what you’d picked from the trays. For a few minutes there was only the sound of far-away waves and the kitchen’s relentless clattering, but Talia cleared the silence with a drag of breath. “The worst would be me telling him, him not wanting anything to do with me or my situation, being removed from his service and out of a job, publicly disgraced and shamed for carrying the General’s bastard kid, and just wholly ruined socially, occupationally, and personally.” There was quiet fear clawing at her eyes, but she forced a pleading smile.

“Wow,” you breathed, cutting through the intense moment, “it’s almost like you’ve thought about it before.”

A pitiful laugh. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Well, there’s always the alternative,” you shrugged. “Maybe none of that scary stuff will happen. Maybe Hux will embrace it. Embrace you and your situation. Because it isn’t just yours, Talia,” she considered your next words before you said, “it’s his, too.” You clasped her hand, trying to get across that she could come to you whenever she needed. “When you’re ready, or at least before you’re in labor,” you shared a laugh, “tell him. I think… I think people can surprise you if you let them. Maybe Hux will do just that.”

The pact that bound you seemed to glow, such gratefulness in her expression. She smiled and slipped her hand from yours, sipped from her glass and shook her head. “Well, now that you’ve bandaged my crisis, how are you doing? Only a couple days before everything gets real.”

Though you knew it was true, you’d barely considered the trial. Aside from Karmen’s rundown yesterday, you’d spent most of your time preparing for your shift, worrying about Mason, and cooped up with Kylo Ren. So maybe it would all feel real when you got there, but as of right now you’d scarcely thought of it.

“I think I’m doing better than I should be,” you sighed, nibbling a piece of toast. “Like you said, this place is rather extravagant, and then this whole city is unbelievable. I don’t know, maybe I’m just avoiding thinking about it. And, like you, I’m preparing for the worst.”

A glum smile hardly met her eyes. “Your worst is far worse than mine. I can’t even imagine.”

“You and Mason both, I guess. Although, you’re not as cryptic with it as he’s been.”

“Trouble in paradise?” She notched a brow.

You breathed a giggle, remembering you needed to clarify, “Just trouble, no paradise. Mason and I aren’t together.”

Talia was completely taken aback, no hiding her shocked expression. “Oh. I mean, I just assumed… Are you sure? Does he know you aren’t together?”

“I’d assume so,” her tone made you wary, not sure what was so obvious.

“I’m sorry, I really just thought since seeing him in the medbay so often that you two were a thing. Like, a serious thing.”

“We’re not,” your tone was short, but you breathed before saying, “I’m seeing him tomorrow. I need- ah, ah, fu-,”

That buzzing Force claimed your cunt, drilling both sweet spots and making it impossible to breathe. After a few seconds, its presence – its master – merciless, you crossed your legs and knitted your hands together in your lap, coughing to try and hide the sensation’s vision-blurring effects.

Talia was stunned, but before she could ask, you continued, “I’m see-seeing Mason tomorr-ow, and ha! Wow, and,” it felt like Kylo was thrusting inside of you, your toes curled in your shoes. “And grabbing some clothes for the trial. He also said he wants to ta- oh, okay.” You stomped both your feet to the floor, leaning down to the table and chugging the rest of your coffee.

“Are you alright?” Talia leaned forward, but you waved a hand in dismissal.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. So clothes and then Mason wants to talk!” You stumbled away from her and tried to keep from cursing Kylo Ren outwardly, a few shouts of goodbye falling behind when you eventually got out into the main halls of the manor.

The pulse between your legs finally let up, and you had half a mind to tromp back to his room and knee him where it’d hurt, but there were five minutes before transport would arrive, so you decided it would need to wait for a later date.

“If you can hear this,” you hissed, searching the halls for onlookers, “I’m going to-,” a swirl of pressure laved your sensitive bud, sending you tripping into the foyer. “Kylo.” It let up again. He let up. Maybe you would have tried another retort, but the grand entrance slid open, and at the bottom of the dawn-draped stairs awaited CB-7070.

She had a hand clasped to her wrist, not a blaster in sight, and her face remained hidden by a white helmet. The gold band over her right wrist shimmering with the sliver of sunlight to your left. Consciously, you half-circled her, wariness creeping along your veins. Nothing she had done, but… for a second you dropped your eyes to that familiar break in her uniform. You swallowed when you looked back to her visor, not offering a smile, and keeping at least three paces away at all times.

“Morning,” she muffled out your last name, pivoting to face you. When she took a step forward, you tried not to, but you backed away in suit. She stopped her advance.

Without a word, you nodded, pushing your hands into your pockets.

CB-7070 cleared her throat. “I’ve been informed by Commander Ren that you can assign me a name if you choose.”

“No,” you said, too quickly. “No, that won’t be necessary. CB-7070 is fine. We won’t know each other long.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Use my first name,” you commanded, running a finger along your uniform’s embroidery.

“Understood,” this time she used your own name – no titles, no pleasantries.

With only two minutes before transport, you said, “You’re aware you will not be in any of my patients’ rooms, correct?”

“I have been briefed on Cantonica’s privacy laws, yes.”

You peered side-long at her. “Good.”

When she spoke your name, there was a measure of nerves you couldn’t help but notice. “Is there anything you need from me that will make this arrangement easier for you?”

There was little time to think, but something in your head was screaming to request the one thing you felt would minimize the pit of dread rooting in your gut.

Plainly, facing her, arms crossed, you said, “Show me your face.”

Without hesitation, the stormtrooper unlatched and removed her helmet. She was dark-skinned, full lips and deep brown eyes inherent of the desert around her, genetic protection from the lifelong sun on this planet. Dark brunette curls were smoothed to her scalp, twisted into a tight bun at its base. Her face was round, and with the slight smile she gave, her cheeks crinkled a pair of gentle eyes. So young. Too young.

“How old are you?” There was a harshness in your words, not entirely intentional.

CB-7070 did pause at that. After squaring her shoulders she said, “Eighteen. Nineteen soon.” Her voice was kind, warm.

“I don’t need you to prove yourself,” you guessed as much at her posture, “I can assume if you’re here, at this… place-,”

“The Consulate.”

Consulate. “Thank you,” you continued. “Since you’re stationed at the Consulate, I can assume you’ve already done enough grunt work,” those early weeks, before Kylo Ren, flashed in your mind’s eye, dehydrated soldiers, strung out in preparation for the attack on the Republic. Sighing, watching the sky for any incoming ships, you took one step toward her. “No, I don’t need you to prove yourself. But I do need you to have my back.”

She stood even straighter at that.

“I know you’re assigned to watch me and report to the General, and I’ll just say right now that neither of us is the other’s favorite person. But I am not your enemy. I’m not an enemy.”

She looked at you, hearing the approaching ship, and just before it sped too close to blast your hearing, the young Stormtrooper nodded and said, “I was briefed on your case. You are not an enemy. You saved that man, an engineer. One of many who normally go unseen and unnoticed. I will do my job, but I am not biased to you or my General.” She angled her eyes to the sky and tucked her head back into the helmet. “As much as my assignment is to monitor you, I have been trained to protect the officers and officials of the First Order. And given you kept the Commander alive after Starkiller went down – you are one of the most important officers I’ve been tasked with.”

You hadn’t known that was general knowledge, her admission striking through every chamber of your heart. The memory of that day. People had seen such a different side of it, they’d seen you protect and serve when minutes prior you were begging for death in the dark of your residence. The day you could have used a savior, others had painted you as their own.

CB-7070 marched to the transport’s descended ramp and faced you. “Ready when you are.”

With a straight back, hands smoothing over your uniform, you approached the ramp, waiting for CB-7070 to follow behind. She stood next to you, but before you took a step further, you turned to the Consulate, and then to the sea that spanned beside and behind it, and you quieted all that Canto Bight had already presented.

Today was not about Snoke, or Mason, or Kylo. Today was about you and your patients, whoever they would be. Today you were not Commander Ren’s Care Provider.

Today you would be a nurse, and that meant more than anything.

[mae-gi-writes]

Somebody Loves You | Kevin Moon (The Boyz Imagine)

Bandmates au! in which Kevin finally realizes that the love he’s looking for is standing right here beside him. 

Genre: angst, fluff at the end, friends to lovers au, bandmates au.

Words: 1.6k-ish? 

------

All she could remember were the tears on his face. 

And then, then came the heartbreak. Along with that, the sad songs bouncing off his piano keys like soulful siren singing melodies about the dead and haunting her in her sleep. The floor was always littered with crumbled paper and when Y/N had enough courage to smooth one out, realized that they were nothing more than lyrics singing of a broken heart. 

The break up had come unexpectedly. A quick slap in the face, as she liked to call it. But after that day, Kevin was never the same. Oh he tried, tried his best to fake it behind a cracked mask that always managed to crumble half-way throughout the day, but Y/N knew him like the back of her hand, knew exactly the slightest microscopic expressions that shifted in his face, which made her even more aware of his countenance every single time. 

One time, she found him curled up on the corner of the couch in their small practice room -- tucked away in one of the school’s back buildings that nobody ever ventured to -- with tears cascading down his face in crystal translucent jewels, carving paths along his cheeks and dripping off his jaw as he kept his eyes averted from her own. 

“Kevin,” Y/N sighed, before plopping herself down next to him, “did you eat?” 

The young man shook his head. Of course he hadn’t. Nothing much interested him these days. 

She made a frustrated sound, “you can’t keep doing this to yourself, you know.” 

“It hurts,” came his murmur, words choked with tears. 

“I know it does Kev, but--” Y/N’s hand landed on his shoulder in a soft, warm caress, “you have to move on. She has.” 

He sniffled for a few minutes more. Then, he wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve, gladly accepting the tissue she provided him upon noticing his struggle, “thanks,” he merely mumbled, a breath of words so quiet and weak she feared he might break in two.

“Come on,” Y/N’s hands went to cup his face before pulling up the corner of his lips with her thumbs. She grinned at him, “smile. Come on, it’s not the end of the world. You have me.” 

A tear-filled chuckle escaped his chest, “yeah,” the corners of his lips tugged up slightly, “yeah I know.” 

The next few weeks were swamped in a constant routine of practice and attending lectures whenever they weren’t too wiped out afterwards, which Kevin accepted the distractions with open arms. Slowly but surely, Y/N watched his expressions clear, his eyes getting lighter and lighter, chuckles coming a little easier to him now, and smiles gracing his face more often times than not. It was relieving, to say the least. Y/N’s heart couldn’t help but jump up in happiness whenever she remembered how far he’d come from the broken mess Kevin once was, though these facts were things she kept hidden like a secret she would carry to her grave.

She’d never tell him; how he’d stolen her heart, and that now she was his entirely if he wanted. No. She couldn’t, never had even before he even started dating his ex back then.

So imagine her shock when Kevin bounded up to her after her Marketing class to tell her:

“Miha texted me.” 

Y/N blinked for a few seconds. The name was enough to make her stomach drop. 

“What?” a frown fell like a dark shadow over her face, “What did she say? What did she want?” 

He shuffled from one feet to another, clearly sensing the unfriendliness emanating from the girl before him, "well, she said a lot of stuff...about how she misses me. And how she wants to talk to me, clear things up because they way we left it was--" his words stopped short upon noticing the scowl spreading over Y/N's face faster than he could utter Miha's name. Instead, he asked, "what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're not going to meet her, are you?" Were the only words that she managed to splutter out of the multitudes of protests ringing through her mind.

"Well," he scratched the back of his head, looking strangely embarrassed, "I don't know, I thought maybe I should go, we didn't have any closure and--"

"Are you insane?"

Kevin blinked, "no, I just thought--"

"She broke your heart," Y/N shook her head and her fists impulsively clenched at her sides in hopes that she wouldn't sock him one. Frustration flared through her, "she broke up with you and left you in this mess by yourself. You-- You were terrible Kev, you weren't eating and you barely slept. Why would you want to go back to that?" She searched his eyes, attempted to seek out what was going on inside his brain, "why would you?"

"Look Y/N," she watched as Kevin's expression hardened, "I'm really grateful for you, I am. But it's no big deal, okay? It's just a lunch to talk things over."

"Just a lunch?" She laughed, though it sounded empty, "there's no such thing as 'just a lunch'. "

"Why do you even hate her so much? She didn"t do anything to you--"

"You know what? No." Y/n threw her hands in mock surrender, "you do what you want. I'm done. I want no part in this."

"What's wrong with you?" Kevin's voice rose with his anger. It was clear that he was just as rattled as she was, "why are you acting like it's such a big deal?"

How dare he say that.

Anger vibrated through her chest. Invaded her lungs.

Suddenly, it gelt all too hard to breathe.

How dare he, when all she had done was be there for him? When she had vaught him with open arms and nursed his bruised heart back to life.

How dare he.

"How dare you," her voice shook with restrained anger, "how dare you say that when all I've done was for your sake?"

"Y/N I didn't mean--"

"Yes you did!" She cut him off with a yell as tears pooled from the corner of her eyes, "you meant every single word and I'm not having any more of it! You--" she let out a slow, shaky breath through her mouth, body practically vibrating with rage, "you don't even see me, not in the way that I do.”

"What do you mean--"

"I love you, alright?" Her hand tugged at her hair, "I always did, Kev. And seeing you so broken, I hated myself for it. It hurt me as much as it did for you. I'm not going to stick around just to see it happen again."

And before waiting for Kevin to answer back Y/N swivelled on her heel and marched away with her head held high, even as tears wlowly dropped down her cheeks and her heart shook every step along the way.

For the next few weeks, Y/N aboided Kevin at all costs.

Not only was she swimming in huge embarrassment at the prospect of having confessed her somewhat undying love for him, but it did not help matters that she couldn't erase the image of his closed-off, hardened expression as they argued back and forth.

--------

It was obvious whom he'd chosen to side with. Y/N wasn't supposed to feel bitter -- actually hated herself for being so petty -- but she couldn't help it. It was like his presence was a ghost that haunted her every day life, a constant reminder that he wasn't here anymore.

So Y/N avoided the band practice room like the plague, skipped classes they shared, so much so that their drummer -- a cute quirky freshmen who went by the name of Eric -- decided to confront her right as she was about to exit her statistics course.

"Why aren't you coming to band practice lately?" Eric asked as he followed Y/N's footsteps echoing down the hall, "something's wrong. You wouldn't be acting this way otherwise. Tell me."

"Nothing's wrong," she muttered while dragging her feet, attempting not to scowl at the wall before her.

"Sure, of course nothing's wrong," Eric rolled his eyes, "that"s why you're sulking like a five year old child."

"Just leave me alone."

"Is this about Kevin?"

She stayed quiet. Reacting to his statement would just confirm his suspicions.

"It is, isn't it?" Eric continued while the girl struggled to keep her face void of emotion, "he's been acting all weird too. Hasn't been practicing as much, and apparently he's still talking to that ex of his-- which, by the way, I do not approve of -- but he looks off, Y/N. Like he doesn't even want to hang out anymore."

"Not my problem."

"Y/N," a hand fell upon her shoulder then. Eric squeezed her softly, "I'm not stupid. I know you guys fought for whatever reason. But for my sake, please come back. Come and and talk to him," he paused, then added a soft, "please."

Usually, a few prods from Eric here and there would prompt Y/N to make the first move. But not this time. She wasn't about to apologize to Kevin for having done nothing wrong. If anything, she was the one who should be apologized to!

Instead, Y/N took this chance to call up her mother who laid just a few hours away in the suburbs, asking if there was any possibility for a visit. A break would do her some good and by the older woman's delighted tone on the other side of the line, Y/N guessed that it would please her mother just as much. The older woman didn't hesitate to gush at the many dishes she would prepare for her only daughter, prompting Y/N to smile despite all the circumstances.

Trust her mother to make her feel loved when nobody else could.

And so, it was a few days later when Y/N packed her things for the weekend. She ambled out into the shared common room, bid a casual goodbye to her flatmates, before starting towards the train station, her heart already lifting with hope with every step that brought her closer to home.

Only for that hope to shatter when a familiar alto burst through the air.

"Y/N!"

Turning towards the sound, the said girl's eyebrows stitched into a frown upon noticing Kevin's figure running up to her as if he was the one about to his miss train.

"What do you want--" she didn't even have time to finish her sentence when Kevin's arms snatched her over to his chest, one of his hands weaving into her hair before he tilted his head and crashed his mouth down onto hers.

"Wha--" the words choked up in the back of her throat as Kevin moved his lips onto her own in the most sensual dance with a desperate, almost aggressive need. His hand at her waist tightened, slipping underneath her shirt and causing her to gasp, electric tingles shooting up her spine.

He kissed her with ardour, with a passion she didn't know he possessed. He kissed her until her knees felt weak and until her head spun deliciously from his attacks; mouth suckling onto her bottom one, nibbling at the skin and -- impulsively -- Y/N couldn't help but kiss back.

A growl vibrated through his chest at her response and she almost fell, pliant in his arms. His tongue pushed at her mouth, delving in without warning and eliciting a soft whimper from the said girl as her own arms slithered their way up his shoulders and into his hair. 

He was everywhere. His scent. His taste. He tasted so familiar and warm and just--just Kevin. 

She hadn't realized that they'd been moving until her back collided with the cold, cemented wall of her apartment building, the contrast of its iciness and Kevin's warmth sending another surge of hot desire through her chest.

"Don't leave me," Kevin breathed through multiple kisses, his voice hoarse and rough from their kiss, "don't leave. I'm sorry."

It took ever ounce of Y/N's brain cells to figure out what he was sorry for.

"For what?" She mumbled against his mouth.

He drew back with a soft sigh and a whine almost crawled up her throat at the loss of heat. Pressing their foreheads together, noses touching, he murmured, "for everything. For not listening to you, for not seeing you, I-- I was so stupid for taking you for granted and it's only when you walked out on me that I realized--" he exhaled shakily, "that I realized how much...how much I loved you."

Closing her eyes to let his words wash over her wounds, she felt like pinching herself.

It didn't seem real.

Kevin didn't seem real.

And as though she yearned for that clarification herself, her hand reached up to press her palm against his cheek. 

The man's eyes closed, taking in the feel of her skin, her warmth, against him.

And when he opened them once more to find her brown orbs swimming with flecks of sudden affection, he couldn’t help but lean forward again.

"I'm sorry," he pecked her mouth chastely, "I'm sorry," his kisses trailed over her jaw, up her cheek while he kept on muttering a string of apologies that caused a troop of butterflies to flutter through her stomach. Her hands fisted through his shirt unconsciously as Kevin continued showering her face in a rain of kisses that left her heart cartwheeling in her chest, heat springing through her cheeks at the way their bodies practically molded into each other. 

His firmness pressed against her curves. Sensual heat pooled at the bottom of her stomach. 

“Please just--” Kevin’s alto broke at the last word, “just don’t leave.” 

To be fair, she wasn’t actually leaving for good. But it seemed like Kevin had understood it all upside down, for he thus nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck and hugged her close as though fearing that she might disappear at any given moment.

She took a deep, shaky breath. Let it out slowly through her teeth, “I’m not going anywhere, Kev.” 

She felt him pause, “why are you all packed then?” 

“I’m just going to visit my mom for the weekend.” 

Another pause. Then: 

“Oh.” 

Silence. 

“Oh. Fuck.” 

Laughter bubbled straight out of Y/N’s lips the moment Kevin lurched back to gaze at her with wide-eyed panic reminiscent to that of a young deer in the headlights. He was just too adorable for his own good and while she pitied the fact that Eric had merely dramatized the situation of her leaving, she was grateful. Kevin would never have acted so impulsively if he wasn’t desperate.

And now, she knew that these feelings were actually reciprocated.

“Stop,” Kevin brought her back, pecking at a spot right underneath her jaw as she kept on laughing, “stop laughing. It’s not funny!” 

“Oh my-- Oh my god. You thought I was leaving for good, weren’t you?” Y/N tried, and failed, numerous times to force the laughter down though it was proving to be quite difficult. 

Her heart felt so much lighter than just a few minutes ago. It was soaring through clouds, literally floating up to the heavens in happiness.

“I got scared okay?!” Kevin prodded at her tummy, face dropping into a pout, “I thought you were never going to come back because of--because of what happened.” 

“I’m not that dramatic.” 

“I know, I’m usually the drama queen.” 

“So,” a teasing smile lifted at the corners of Y/N’s lips. Her eyes narrowed towards his, mischief dancing in her eyes, “you love me, do you?” 

“You’re never going to let me hear the end of it, are you?” 

“Nope,” she singsonged, “it’s too adorable to forget.” 

“Hmph,” Kevin groaned slightly and she shivered at the contact of his lips against her collarbone. He lifted his head to kiss her cheek softly, mouth traveling over to land on her lips then, “as long as I get a girlfriend out of it, I’m okay with that.” 

[amintyworld]

Secrets - Dream SMP Drabble

WATERFALL (Part one)    SUNSET (Part two)

A/N: Part 3 is finally here! So, bit of a update - this is indeed NOT the final part as I had planned, since there’s so much I want to cover about my own little backstory about two these two lovebirds, including how they get to the SMP. So, more parts to come, be on the lookout! Also, if you haven’t already, links to the two other parts should be above, please check them out if you’d like! Anyway, as always, enjoy!

TW: Arguing, secrets, surprise pregnancy, miscommunication, vomiting, cursing, roughhousing, injury (Not vv bloody tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

“Alright boys, get down here, breakfast is ready!” Philza heard scampering and thudding footsteps on the stairs as both Tommy and Tubbo raced to the table, smiling and laughing all the way. Wilbur walked down next, the only one out of their pajamas as he sat with his notebook in front of him, scribbling ideas, notes, and lyrics. Technoblade was last, not exactly the morning person of the group, as he passed by his two younger siblings and ruffed their hair lovingly before sitting down with a yawn. Phil quickly set eggs in front of each of them, a warm loaf of bread at the center the baker delivered early in the morning. Techno murmured a sleepy ‘thanks’ as Philza set down a cup of coffee with his plate, and Wilbur got up to grab some orange juice for him and Tubbo, leaving it out so Tommy could pour his own as he insisted.

It was a nice feeling in the mornings with his boys, sitting and eating a nice breakfast as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Philza mused over just how much changed over the last few years - they adopted Tubbo, Technoblade and Wilbur were becoming adults - but yet, things still felt the same. The little family was silent as they ate, enjoying each other’s company as the world began to wake up just outside their windows.

Tubbo, to Philza’s relief, was not as chaotic as the rest of his siblings and was all around a responsible and kind soul - at least when he was alone. When Philza walked inside to Tommy and Tubbo covered head to toe in bee stings due to ‘showing dominance over the bees so they’ll be our pets’, he learned quickly that the two younger brothers together would spur on all kinds of trouble. Luckily, he was used to it from the elder two when they were around Tommy and Tubbo’s age. Philza chuckled remembering when Techno and Wilbur tried to corner that parrot to only run home with nothing but a bunch of scratches, bruises, and covered in feathers - he’d snapped a picture before they both cleaned up, both pink from embarrassment.

“So, I’ll be off today checking in and fixing up the garden, going into town for a while, and then going fishing if I have the time. I should be home by around sunset, though.” Philza declared, taking a swig of his morning coffee.

“Me and Tubbo are gonna go find Mothman and catch a couple of pet bees,” Tommy said. As Philza opened his mouth to respond, Tubbo interrupted. 

“We’ll take our swords and be back by sunset.” Tubbo finished. “And we’ll make sure to follow the path and not get lost.” 

Philza chuckled. “Good.” He smiled. 

“Techno and I were gonna train for a bit - I think I’m getting close to beating him.” Wilbur said, and a loud ‘HA’ erupted from his older brother.

“You wish,” Techno smirked. “The day you beat me one on one is the day I give up eating potatoes.” The pig hybrid did love himself a baked potato, and Philza knew that all too well. Chatter spurred on amongst the family, and Philza just smiled, taking in the moment. 

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

“Jeez, is Techno some kind of mega pig demon?” Sally said, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her treehouse, across from Wilbur who looked a little worse for wear. “He went way too rough with you.”

“He didn’t mean to, he just got carried away.” Wilbur defended. “He felt really bad after, I kept telling him it was fine.” Wilbur let out a soft curse as the disinfectant soaked cloth ran over a particularly deep cut on his forehead, and Sally rubbed circles on the top of his hand in a loving gesture. 

“Wil, it’s not fine, you got really hurt.” Sally’s tone turned serious, and Wilbur intertwined their fingers together.

“You’re scared.”

“No shit I am!” Sally yelled angrily before she took a deep breath to calm herself, continuing.. “Wilbur, sure you’re fine now but what if you got worse, and he didn’t stop? What if you got really hurt?”

“I know, I didn’t mean to worry you.” Wilbur gently squeezed her hand. “I promise we’ll be more careful.” 

Sally placed a bandage on the cut on his forehead and planted a soft kiss on it. “Thank you.” Wilbur cracked a smirk as she faced him fully again. 

“How bad’s the damage?”

Sally smiled back. “Just some bruises and cuts, a few days of healing and you’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you still look handsome.”

“Good thing, too,” Wilbur said jokingly. “My face and my guitar’s all I got going for me.”

“Oh please, Beanie Boy.” Sally smiled as she moved to cuddle closer to him, and his arms wrapped around her until they were both comfortable against the wall, Sally’s head leaned against Wilbur’s chest, the girl all too careful in her movements to make sure she didn’t hurt her boyfriend’s many bruises. “Did you win, at least?”

“He called a draw,” Wilbur said. “But, I did manage to use that weapon snatching tactic you taught me.” He laughed a bit. “He totally freaked.”

“Good,” Sally chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep that pig on his toes.” Sally felt Wilbur shift a bit as he tensed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore,” Wilbur said. “Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna regret most of the fight in the morning?” They both chuckled at the comment.

“I’m sorry, Do you want me to kiss it better?” Sally asked, looking up to her boyfriend in time to see a slight telltale pink on his cheeks. He nodded as Sally shifted to sit up more and began leaving some kisses along his arms wherever she saw a bruise, before leaning in to give him a soft peck on the lips where a small bruise was beginning to form.

“It’s almost sunset, I gotta get home or Phil will kill me,” Wilbur said, before tucking a long piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

“Good, someone’s gotta help me refill my stash of supplies,” Sally said, smirking. “I’m all out of beetroot for bruise cream, if you haven’t heard.”

“Will do, my salmon,” Wilbur said, getting up, grabbing his sword, bag, and beanie before heading to the entrance.

“Be careful heading back, you’re still healing.”

“Gosh, you sound like Phil.” Wilbur chided sarcastically before Sally gave him a look. “I’ll be careful, I swear.” Wilbur pulled Sally in for a close embrace, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my salmon.”

“Love you, Wilby.” At the rarely used nickname, Wilbur’s heart melted as he muttered a simple ‘bye’ and climbed down the ladder.

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

Sally didn’t understand what was going on, and she was mostly kind of scared. Standing over a bucket and puking as the sun rose up was not exactly a great sign. Neither was the weird soreness. Maybe she had some kind of flu or something? Either way, one thing was for sure - she didn’t like this, at all. Being a survivor and runner for years on end, she prided herself for being pretty healthy and knowing a lot of good healing tips and tricks to not slow herself down. Now, she felt ashamed. Weak.

She hoped it was just the flu. Grimacing, she swallowed the medicine and took some water and a snack on her way out - She didn’t want to be late for work. Her hair was a bit of a mess and she chewed a bit of mint to disguise the bad breath she gained from this morning. She felt awful but pushed the feeling aside. It must just be a bug or something, had to be.

When she was old enough, she started looking for a job in town to get some money and not have to worry about hunting every night. Sure, Phil always had a spot for her at the table, but even Sally knew how much he was stretched to the limit feeding five. Luckily, she found a pretty cushiony job at the trade center - where she and a handful of others settled disputes over what was a fair trade and what wasn’t. 

As she worked she headed to steady herself every now and then when she felt sick or lightheaded. It just got worse as the days went on, and it got too much for her to ignore. She left early on sick leave and made a quick stop at the library before heading home, determined to figure out what was going on with her and fix it in whatever way possible. She settled in bed with some hot tea and opened the book: ‘Easy to Spot Ailments Hidden in Plain Sight’. At this point, she was fed up feeling horrible and just wanted it to end. Her head ached, her stomach churned with any bit of food she tried to get down. Her shaking hands flipped through the pages as she looked for what matched her list of symptoms in her head - Nausea, light-headedness, fatigue…

‘Pregnancy, in the early stages, is common to have morning sickness, fatigue, tender or sore muscles…’

Her eyes widened at the thought… pregnant…? She scanned the page intently and as it were - most of her symptoms she’d been suffering the past few weeks were right there. Her mind whirred with the thought of the possibility. Wilbur was still trying to find a job in town, and they haven’t even gotten their own space yet - they definitely were not ready. The shapeshifter’s thoughts turned to Wil - if it was really the case, how would he react? Maybe he’ll be done with her for good because of it, they took precautions but not enough, she didn’t do enough to stop herself from getting into this position. Wilbur wouldn’t be ready yet, she isn’t either - maybe he’ll ditch her for his own survival. 

She wouldn’t blame him. 

It took her a few moments to realize she was crying. Her head was clouded with so many doubts, fears and what ifs she didn’t even notice. She wiped her tears away. She needed to keep a clear head, she needed to stay calm. Maybe she wasn’t even pregnant, she had to check with the town healer to make sure. There was probably nothing to worry about anyway, and she’d have gotten so worked up over nothing!

Now, looking over the positive pregnancy test in the healer’s hut, all she could think was: ‘Shit.’

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

Wilbur strummed a bit on his guitar as he sat cross-legged in his bed, Sally snuggled up in blankets next to him, humming constantly. “Have you been writing, Wil?”

“A bit.” Wilbur smiled. “Nothing concrete yet, I’m afraid.” Sally pouted slightly, her lower lip out just so, dramatic enough to make both of them laugh. “Sorry to disappoint, my number one fan. Maybe I could make it up by playing a song request…?”

“Love your songs, Wilby.” Sally said as she nuzzled to his side and he smiled.

“I know, my salmon.” Wilbur crooned as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Now, what song do you wanna hear?”

“Hm… what about the pretty soft one?”

“You never remember the names, do you?” Wilbur joked as he checked and tuned up the instrument. Sally laughed.

“Never.” Sally said. “Luckily I don’t have to.” Wilbur began to strum a soft tune as he sang softly with the music, and Sally drank it all in with a smile, her heart feeling full.

“You and I

We’re different but somehow we fit.

And I promise you

No matter what, I’ll never quit.

Because you are the good days,

The tough days,

When I feel like I can’t breathe,

I love you, I hope you like me.”

Sally began to sing along as well, and when the song was done, Wilbur put his guitar down and cuddled Sally close. He wrapped his arms around her until she was completely comfortable and they both laid there, just content in each other’s arms. Though Wilbur could tell she was happy, he also could tell something else was up - she fidgeted every now and then, seemingly never comfortable. He knew her well enough to know when something was bothering her - the way her eyes focused too much on the blanket, lost in thought and her eyebrows furrowed were her telltale signs. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing’s on my mind, I’m just tired.”

“You’re fidgeting, you’re staring into space - did something happen at work?” Wilbur asked, concerned. “If anyone’s bothering you-”

“No, no. Nothing’s going on at work.” Sally said. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Wilbur asked, and he couldn’t help but notice her hesitation.

“Yes…” She said before she looked around the room a bit, her body fidgeting more violently. “Where’s the bathroom again…?”

“Just down the hall.” Wilbur grew concerned as he noticed her shaking body rush out of the room. Did… did he do something wrong…? He heard the door quickly slam, and he couldn’t help but replay the events in his head over and over. Did he make her uncomfortable? Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to cuddle her, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“You okay?” Wilbur looked up to see Philza standing in the doorway casually, looking a bit concerned. That’s when WIlbur noticed how hard he was gripping the blanket on the bed, staring off into space.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I dunno if she is, though.” Wilbur said.

“I heard the slam.” Philza stated. 

“Phil, how do you know if someone’s uncomfortable around you?” Wilbur asked, and Phil’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I guess it depends on the person, sometimes you can tell by their body language... Why?”

“Sally’s been off, she’s not acting like herself. I’m worried about her, I know something’s causing her to be like this, and I dunno if it’s me.” Wilbur said honestly, and Philza’s face turned to a warm comforting smile.

“It’s not you, Wil. I know she loves you just as much as you love her.” Philza said, certain.

“If it’s not me…” WIlbur started. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, if I’m honest. But i wouldn’t worry too much over it, okay? I’m sure she’ll tell you what’s going on when she’s ready to.” Phil reassured him. As he told his son, he too tried to keep his worries at bay. He didn’t want to get in the middle of his son’s love life, but if something really bad was happening to the shapeshifter, Phil wanted to help.

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

Philza tried to stay calm as the girl broke down into tears over the two words that spilled over her lips. Part of him wanted to scream, to scold… they were both in their early twenties, but Phil still saw them as kids, kids who didn’t know what to do and were too young to be parents yet. He was mad at them for not being careful, he was upset that Sally felt the need to hide it, and most of all he felt scared for both of them. For the first time in his life, Phil couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t just pull out his sword and fight it all and make all the monsters and scary things go away, and it scared him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to process, before handing the crying girl a tissue, doing his best to calm her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… I felt so ashamed that I let this happen, I-” Sally’s voice shook. “If Wilbur knew, he’d probably leave, I-”

“Hey.” Phil’s voice was stern but soft. “You couldn’t have done anything to prevent this, it isn’t your fault, okay?” Sally looked to the floor. Phil rubbed her trembling shoulders as a few moments of silence passed between the two. Phil looked firm. “You’ve gotta tell him.”

“No… no I can’t…” Sally said, images flashing through her head of his disgusted face, glaring at her coldy, telling her that if she really cared and respected him, loved him, she would have been more careful, telling her that he wasn’t willing to get dragged down into her mess, so she’ll just have to deal with it.

“Sally, he’s gonna figure it out eventually. Would it be better if you told him, or if he figured out you kept it from him too late?” Philza said.

“He’s done so much for me, I don’t want to burden him with this. He doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistake.” Sally said softly.

“But it’s not your mistake, it’s not ‘your’ anything, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Then who can I blame, Phil? Why did this happen, then?!” Sally snapped. “What am I supposed to do now… what can I do now?!” Silence once again engulfed the room as Phil sat and slowly took the shapeshifter’s hands in his.

“You know, when I figured out I was going to be a Dad, I was so scared. I was 22 with no stable job, moving from place to place, living off the land, that’s no way to raise a family.” Philza said, staring into space as he spoke, recalling the memory. “I learned a lot, then - like some things happen without a reason… bad things, but also really good things. Amazing things. And, I know that even now, I’m still scared about it all, but I know you’ll both get through it together just fine. You care too much about each other to let anything get in the way of that.” His gentle expression met hers. “What you’re gonna do now, is you’re going to breathe, finish your cup of tea, and relax. Then when Wilbur comes back from getting the honey with Tommy and Tubbo, you’re gonna look him in the eyes and tell him, even if you’re scared. Because as much as you’re afraid of losing him, he’s afraid of losing you, too.”

Sally swallowed thickly, nodding. “Then what?”

“Then, we’ll figure everything out together, okay?” Phil took his own tea cup in his hands and sipped, looking out the window as the sun began to set. Sally, with shaking breaths, sipped her tea as well as the two sat in a comfortable silence. When the door opened and shouts erupted from the hallway, Phil gave Sally’s hand one final squeeze before getting up and taking their empty tea cups to the kitchen. 

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

“Go. Take your mind off everything for a bit.” Philza had told him as he practically pushed him out the front door. “You can’t just be anxious, worried and cooped up in your room over a girl. Take a break.” When he tried to protest, Philza put his hand up, silencing him. “Besides, Techno’s too busy today to go with them, and someone’s gotta make sure they get home in one piece. Enjoy yourself and have fun, okay?”

Now, sitting under the cover of a bush, all three of them - Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo - looked over toward the bee’s nest. “Okay, what’s the plan here?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy smiled, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Okay, so you lure all the bees out with some flowers, while Wilbur and I get the honey. If it backfires..” Tommy hit his fist against his hand. “We’ll hit ‘em with Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B..?” WIlbur asked curiously.

“Well, it's a highly complicated-” Tubbo began.

“-and a simplistic plan that has always gotten us out of trouble so far.” Tommy said, which did not do much to help Wilbur’s new worries over Plan B.

Tubbo picked a huge pile of lilies and daisies and nervously walked closer while Tommy gave him a thumbs up from behind the bush. “You got this, Bee Whisperer!” He hashly said softly, while Wilbur looked over to him. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” WIlbur said, looking over at Tubbo, ready to tackle him to the ground if things went south. “I know bees like flowers, but I’m pretty sure they can tell the difference-”

“Oh yeah, Tubbo’s got this.” Tommy reassured him. “He’s the Bee Whisperer, after all.” A large glass jar landed with a ‘thunk’ on the soft grass. “You’ll hold the jar while I get the honey.”

“Do you even know how to get honey from the nest?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy looked confused.

“Yeah, you just stick your hand in, and-”

“No, nope, we’re not doing that.” WIlbur said. “You’re holding the jar, I’m getting the honey.” He looked over the bush, and to his surprise, the bees flew around Tubbo peacefully, landing on the flowers he held as Tubbo let out a weird buzzing noise from his mouth. Huh - the Bee Whisperer… cool. 

Tommy muttered angrily in protest as he hauled the jar over at his signal, and Wilbur picked up a stick and slowly began to put globs of honey in the jar.

“Is the reason I’m not doing it because of your women problems?”

“Shut up, Tommy-” Wilbur harshly said under his breath, trying to focus. “You’ll alert the bees.”

“Well excuse me for trying to distract myself, this thing’s heavy-”

“Shut up.” Wilbur muttered angrily. Sure, it was kind of harsh, but he was the one who was complaining. They were about halfway done filling the jar when  a few bees began to fly back to the nest, and Tubbo tried to call them back to no avail.

“I think it’s time for Plan B, Wil-”

“No, it’s just a few bees, Tommy…”

One bee in particular decided to land on Tommy’s nose, and that was it. “PLAN B!” He shouted as he capped the honey jar and gave it to Wilbur as he noticed all the bees begin to run back to the nest, sensing danger. Wilbur pushed him away from the nest. “Run!”

Well, Wilbur did not need to be told twice. He rushed away as Tubbo ran after him toward their hiding place in the bush. Tommy followed soon after, covered in honey and bee stings, his hands particularly sticky. Wilbur looked over to see the nest destroyed. He flicked Tommy’s forehead. “That was a terrible plan, you idiot!”

“Ow!” Tommy rubbed the spot a bit as it burned in pain. “Hey, it worked didn’t it? We’re all safe.”

“You can’t just punch away all your problems!” Wilbur shouted. “You could have gotten really hurt!”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said quietly, looking bothered by his older brother’s tone. Wilbur sighed, his arms crossed. Though it was good to let his frustrations out, he shouldn’t have snapped at him - Tommy was far from the one who’d been aggravating him recently. Tubbo looked at the two, then to the jar.

“Well hey,” He said, smiling, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Look at how much honey we’ve got.” He moved the almost full jar in front to show off. “This has gotta be enough honey for the bee farm, Phil’s gonna be impressed - we make a pretty good team.” Tommy brightened a bit at his friend’s words, though still kind of hurt, and moved to take the jar from Tubbo.

“We should be heading back, the sun's almost down.” Tommy said as he stood, picked up the jar and walked off, Tubbo close behind, and then Wilbur at the back. 

Wilbur would be lying if he said the past few weeks had been easy - he tried his best to just stay calm, but every time without fail Sally would always rush away, or snap at him. If she was upset with him, he wished she’d just tell him instead of playing this stupid guessing game. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around her, and he hated it. He didn’t like all this secrecy, he didn’t like not being able to just talk with her the way they used to. He was upset and angry with Sally, he just wanted to know what’s going on, is that such a hard thing to ask?

He scoffed to himself - he was supposed to be keeping his mind off it, but he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t even relax when things were so tense with her, how pathetic is that…?

“Wilbur?”

“...What?” He asked, snapped out of his thoughts by Tubbo, who pointed ahead.

“This is the right direction, right?”

“I’m not Techno, but… I think…” He looked around, scrambling for some familiar landmark. Tommy was in front, uncharacteristically quiet. Then, he spotted a rotten tree log, and it clicked in his mind where they were. “Yes, just a bit that way.” He moved toward the front, and Tommy kept his eyes forward. Feeling awkward, Wilbur touched the sft fabric of his beanie, taking in his hands and running his fingers over it, taking a breath before finally breaking the silence.

“Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tommy’s eyes were fixated on the jar for now. “You’ve been so off lately, and I just thought maybe if we dragged you on some crazy adventure, I’d get you back. But it still followed us, I don’t understand… is it me?”

“No, I… it isn’t, Tommy.” Wilbur said, focusing on the knitted stitches as he formed the words to say. “I’ve just been- Things with me and Sally have been... complicated, recently. Still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“So, you really are having women problems.” Tommy’s tone was serious, an oddity for the usually joking teen. “You really care about her a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I do.” Wilbur breathed.

“No wonder. I haven’t seen you this torn up about anyone in… in well, forever.” Tommy smiled, not joking or smirking, but just smiled. “We’re here for you, you know.”

“I know.” Wilbur smiled as the two made eye contact. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at each other anymore?” Tubbo asked from behind them, and the two brothers smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah I think we’re done.” Tommy said as Tubbo wrapped his arms around both of his brothers shoulders with a relieved smile. 

“Good, because I did not want to be walking home in that awkward silence for another hour.” With that, laughter erupted from all three. 

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

Philza smiled, eyebrows raised in a bit of surprise as he took the jar of honey from Tommy, looking at his condition. “Should I even ask?”

“We used Plan B.” Tubbo said with a smile, making Tommy smirk.

“I punched a thing.” Tommy said confidently, and Philza laughed. 

“Go get cleaned up, both of you - and don’t forget to apply that sting cream.” The two boys marched to the bathroom as Philza set their prized jar on the counter. Back in the living room, Wilbur’s gut ached uncomfortably as Sally walked toward him, giving him a sad smile. 

“Hey.” Her hands found their way into his and their fingers interlocked. It felt… nice.

“Hey.”

“Do you, uh… can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah. Okay.”

Sally’s hands never left his as they sat down on his bed in his room, the door closed behind them. Though for the past few weeks Wilbur had so much he wanted to say to his girlfriend, now he couldn’t seem to find any words as they just sat in silence for a few moments. The fur on Sally’s ears and tail stood on end, and she took a deep breath, looking at their hands as she finally spoke.

“Okay, Wil… there’s something I’ve gotta tell you.”

Wilbur’s heart felt uneasy by your nervousness, worries filling his mind of finally figuring out the truth… and if he didn’t like what it was. If Sally decided to break up with him - all the uncomfortableness would make so much sense, why would she drag it out for this long… he really hoped it wasn’t that, but… it seemed more and more probable. 

“You’ve probably noticed I’ve been acting weird, right?” She asked as he nodded. “Well, remember when I told you that I used to not be attached to anything, because I knew it could only lead to disaster?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well… I’m attached to you, a lot. I’ve realized it lately, and I’ve realized I don’t… I don’t want to lose you. I was so scared that if I told you, I would, and I… I love you too much to lose you, Wil.”

Is this what she’d been upset about?

“You’re never going to lose me, Sally. I promise…” He said, relaxing a bit as his mind whirred about the entire situation. He kissed her forehead softly as he pulled her in for a comforting embrace. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Sally smiled, beginning to relax a bit more, but still a bit nervous. “That’s why it’s been so hard to tell you, Wil.”

“Tell me what?”

Sally took another deep breath. “Wilbur, I’m pregnant.”

Wilbur blinked a few times, trying to process what his girlfriend had just said. Pregnant. She… she was pregnant. That was not what he was expecting her to tell him in the slightest. But, it did explain some things - her frequent bathroom trips, for one. His mind slowly began to put the pieces together, how it made so much sense…

“You serious…?” He asked her, and she smiled, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“One hundred percent, Wilby.” Her voice shook with nervousness as she mustered a smile, not knowing what he’d do or say next. Wilbur broke out into a huge smile as he took Sally into his arms and spun her around as the two laughed, smiling. Wilbur was so relieved that it wasn’t what he thought, that it was the farthest thing from his worries. All the anxiety, the fear… it all went away. They both fell into the bed, smiling and laughing. Wilbur planted a soft kiss on Sally’s cheek as he moved to cuddle her tightly in his arms. “So… you’re not upset with me?”

“No, why would I?” Wilbur said. “Of course, I mean, it’s unexpected… but, we’ll get through it together.” His attention quickly turned to her, his relief turning quickly into concern. “Are… are you okay? I can’t imagine what you’re going through, if you even want the baby-”

“I’ve had lots of time to think about it.” Sally laughed. “And, I’ll admit I had mixed feelings at first - partly because of what you’d think, but partly because I’ve never even thought about kids, you know? It always seemed so far off.”

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable about it, we can always talk about other options, or…” Wilbur said, trying to reassure her.

“No. No… I…” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her ears flicked back and forth. “I think I wanna keep it.” She looked over to Wilbur as her hands found their way back into his. “I was so scared of losing everything that I kept this from you for so long… I don’t want to be scared anymore.” She laid her head against his chest, finding the words as her eyes were glued on their hands. “I want… I want you, Wilbur. I want this.”

“Are you sure, we don’t have to decide anything right now, I don’t want to pressure you-”

“Wilbur.” Sally reached up to cup his cheek with a comforting smile, feeling happy, relieved, and content. Of course, part of her was scared of the unknown, but Sally knew that what Phil had told her, what Wilbur told her was the absolute truth - she and Wilbur would get through it together. Her hand moved his over her stomach, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

You wouldn’t see it at first glance, but they were both absolutely terrified at the new adventure waiting for them. Yet, somehow, in each other’s arms, they felt safe, secure. Like they could do anything. I guess, looking to what would come next, that was more true than either of them would think.

[pairofmelaninkweens]

Zen’in’s Deadliest- Toji Fushiguro x Naraka OC

Warning: Consensual rough sex, Choking, Knife play, Blood Kink, Heavy Degradation, Violence, Use of weapons, Fighting.

Thank you @xshinigamikittenx for editing and @sweet-darling91 for Beta Reading and giving correct warnings!

By @aztecbrujeria 

Tokyo (10 years before Breaking a Curse):

Naraka stands against the dilapidated brick building, hidden in the shadows, waiting for her target to leave. The heavy air envelopes her surroundings, thick with salt and chill from the autumn night and harbor fog, a light mist from the earlier downpours still remains to make the background of the busy city a blurred haze. She's fully aware of the danger this  man is capable of, he carries the title of the deadliest jujutsu assassin, but she didn’t care. She has no one and nothing to live for or come home to at the end of the day. She lived her life as one of many third-party hitmen for the Yakuza. Regardless of who he was, this target was just another SOB that owed money and it was time to pay up. She rests her hand on her hip where the Magnum 357 revolver lies in wait in her thigh holster, the weight of the large Glock a comfort. She inhales and smiles inwardly, “The only true love I’ve ever had.” In the shadows she caught the light from the gambling den spill forth from the entrance before she lays eyes on him, causing her to hesitate about the possibility to do the hit tonight. 

Toji Fushiguro, Zenin’s deadliest, walked into the darkened alleyway and stretched his arms overhead. This man is the target?! She thought to herself in astonishment and a small amount of apprehension. She drinks him in, seeing nothing but a monster of a man in an oversized sweater and black loose pants. He runs his large digits through his straight, jet black hair as he begins to walk, his lackluster posture failing to hide his size. Looks can be deceiving. Naraka shook her head and decided to wait in order to observe him to make the right call.  The longer I wait, the better the job will go... but the longer I wait, the longer I’ll have to go without food. Just as she thought this, her stomach grumbled. She hugs her midsection, feeling her muscles contract in protest. “Shit, I need to go five-finger discount some fucking protein stat.” Shaking off her hunger, she straightened up and refocused. Based on her reports, Toji was not one to shy away from women. She could at least follow him and see where he was headed. If I’m lucky, he’ll stop by a food stall...so hungry...NO! FOCUS! Naraka steps out from the shadows and begins to follow the monster of a man walking towards the bustling lights of the city, away from the darkness of the underbelly of Tokyo. 

She can hear the cold click of her heeled boots against the pavement, sporadically splashing through puddles as she makes her way to the lights, taking care not to get too close. She weaves her way through the throngs of people, watching him part the path like Moses and the Red Sea with how large and intimidating he is against the chaotic collection of souls. Pulling her distressed denim jacket closer, she realizes that she looks like just another punk. Perfect, I already fit in, he’ll never notice. Besides, I’m five feet tall, he’ll never pinpoint someone like me. Naraka decides to be a bit braver, pushing her limit just a tad, as she closes the distance between them. She’s close enough to hear him on his cell as he takes a call. “Yeah...How much?... Fuck, yeah I can do it.” She hears the click of his phone closing and watches him angrily put it in his pocket. She smiles as she watches him, for a dead man he was very handsome. Taking a chance, she puts her pickpocket skills to good use as she craftily bumps into him. “Oh, sorry!” She was quick enough to take what little cash he had and used her sleight of hand to tuck the cash into the band of her fishnets. “I’m so sorry señor, lo siento, I didn’t…” He stood with bright emerald eyes and smirked at her. “You think you’re so sly, don’t you?” Shit, he knows, “Perdón?” He comes close enough to bend down and look Naraka directly in her honey brown eyes, noses almost touching, “You know for a pickpocket you’re pretty enough to fuck... However, just give me my money back, and I won’t kill you.” This pendejo! At least he doesn’t know...just like I thought...Naraka smiles big and reaches her arms behind her back, pulling out the cash. “Sorry, I was just hungry, I haven’t eaten in a couple days...to be honest, I didn’t think you’d notice.” Toji put his hand out for the yen she’d swiped. Eyeing his outstretched palm, she observed that he could easily grip her head like a basketball. “Sorry.” She handed him the money, and just as she was about to turn away and keep walking towards the next alley, Toji’s giant hand encompassed hers, forcing her to look back up at him, “You hungry? Let’s eat. Then, maybe later I’ll fill that pretty mouth of yours with me.” She looks up at him and his devilish smile with clear confusion. I know this man doesn’t think I’m gonna fuck him for buying me dinner?! Well, who the fuck am I kidding...that’ll be the easiest way to kill him, get some “D” and run...alright bet. 

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Right on cue, her stomach grumbled loud enough for him to hear, his dangerous smile showing more teeth, making the scar on the right side of his lips lift with them. “Perfect, my treat.” Naraka shrugs, turning to walk towards a food stall by the closest alley. Get him to an open place...don’t let your guard down. Her attire isn’t respectable enough for an eat-in event, wearing fishnets with Doc martens, a short distressed skirt and thigh harnesses (complete with a hidden Glock and daggers). Complimenting her cropped band T with her favorite destroyed denim jacket, covered in band patches and pins. Naraka inked her skin to hide the scars from the beatings she took in her earlier life and surviving on the streets, purposefully drawing attention to her legs and chest. Five feet tall and muscular, due to the fact that she trained every day and then some to be better than any man or woman in her profession. Naraka feels his eyes roving over her body from behind. Perfect...he’s hooked, this will be a quick and eventful fuck. She’s deep in thought about the best way to deliver the deepest cut at close range, letting him bleed out under her when she feels his hand squeeze her shoulder. “Hey, you almost missed it. Did you want food or what?” She looks up at him, snapping out of her murderous thoughts, “Yeah, sorry, I’ll take some teriyaki chicken and some steamed veggies with rice.” Toji looked at her with suspicion, “Yeah, we’ll take a double order of teriyaki chicken and veggies and extra rice.” Naraka furrows her brow and looks up at him, “I was fine with just what I said.” Toji smirked, “For someone who's starving you like to complain about eating free food.” His voice is steeped in sarcasm, causing Naraka to roll her eyes in response. “Besides,” he continues, dropping his eyes down to her ass, “you gotta fuel those deadly curves.” Naraka’s head snaps up, her fight or flight response kicking in, pupils dilating and cheeks flushed, “I-Are you saying I’m fat?” Calm down idiota!!! Don’t let him get to you. As far as you know he doesn’t know who you really are. Calming herself, she smiles wickedly back at him, making sure he watches as she turns this way and that so he could see every bend and curve of her body as she checks for rolls, simultaneously double-checking she had easy access to her hidden daggers and Glock. She checks her thigh harnesses and pulls at them trying to feign innocent self-consciousness.

She whips her thick black hair back over her shoulder, playing with the braids intermingled in her curls. “I didn’t think I was fat...although I’m fine with the extra cushion. You know what they say.” She shrugs and smiles like the temptress she knows she is, catching  him in her peripheral vision when she reaches for the food as he smirks with a flash of curiosity in his malachite eyes. Naraka shoveled the food into her mouth with the chopsticks. I’m not changing for this cabrón. It’s not like he’s gonna keep seeing me...he’s gonna be dead by the end of the night anyways. She hears him laugh at her, surprised at how sexy the sound is, reverberating into her, making her body begin to riot within. She chokes on her rice reaching for some water. “Is something funny cabrón?” Toji sticks his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “No, it’s just nice to see a woman eat, that’s all.” Naraka squints her eyes at him, finishing off the meal. “Why do I feel like that’s a threat.” Her stomach finally quelled from her hunger, she finally  felt an energy boost after all that time standing and waiting for him earlier to leave the gambling den. “Well, thanks for the food. I better be going, you know, things to steal, people to bother, concerts to get to.” Naraka turns and begins to walk towards the closest alley to slip into the shadows and wait for him, but he’s so quick it doesn’t  register with her until it’s too late. His large hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her into his heavily muscled chest. Toji towers over her as he leans into Naraka’s ear, his hot breath teasing her raven tresses and tickling her flesh. The way he presses against her makes her acutely aware of every sinew of muscle that moves in tandem to keep her close.

Naraka’s instincts take over and she readies herself for a fight. Her senses hone in on the sounds, surroundings, and identifying quickest escape routes as Toji pulled her in closer. She feels the end of a blade pressing against her back. Slowly, she reaches up between her thighs to grip one of her daggers, ready to defend herself, even if all she could do was cut him and get away. “How about you come with me, away from prying eyes...then, we can really get to know each other-” Toji looked down to see Naraka’s hand between her thick thighs and smiles against her ear, “Are you already starting without me? Especially here, for all these people to see? You are a nasty slut.” He surprises her, licking the side of her ear and growling, sending a current of electricity straight to her core. What the fuck!? Get yourself together, he knows! Get out-NOW! He's as strong as Gojo Satoru! “I at least thought we’d end up back at your place before the fun. I didn’t think you were this bold.” Naraka stills. This pinche cabrón really  thinks I’m going to go with him quietly? “Oh,” she purrs, feigning a question as a grin settles across her lips, “ Do I look like a proper lady to you?I’m sure you’re smarter than you look...I’m not your average woman, el grande.” Toji chuckled against her ear, pressing the point of his blade further into her back. She could hear the predatory venom laced in his words, “Oh, Angel Face, I noticed immediately you weren’t average...you must be one powerful bitch if you have that Magnum 357 under your skirt.” Naraka’s eyes widen, dilating with the rush of adrenaline, shocking her system. Shit, get the fuck out! GET OUT NOW! Before Naraka could pull the dagger out, Toji crushes her body into his, hugging her tight, making them look like a couple embracing, “Don’t make a fucking scene, Princess. Like I said, let's go somewhere more...intimate.” She can only do what he wants her to do at this point. Cold-hearted? Absolutely, but not by any means a murderer of innocent people. “Alright, let’s go, show me this more intimate space you had in mind. I don’t like playing the helpless damsel...besides, I haven’t trained today, so you’ll be doing me a favor.” Naraka feels Toji begin to steer her in the direction of an alleyway that leads to abandoned warehouses beside the busy streets.

Once he’s satisfied with the distance between them and the crowd, he pushes her forward with staggering force. Naraka stumbles forward, “Hey, I would have walked you know...especially since my cover was blown.” Toji laughs, “Please, you would have run, you’re smart enough to recognize when you’re out of your depth.” She straightens up, rolling her neck on her shoulders, “You really think I’m that weak?” The sound of her neck popping sends anticipatory tremors down her spine as she turns to look at Toji, “Que dijo? I’m not your average woman.” She caresses her thick thighs up to the hem of her skirt, catching Toji’s attention, and slips her hands beneath the fabric to reach for her blades; she decides to save the revolver as a last resort. With whiplash speed and precision, she slings her daggers at Toji, distracting him for a split second before she sprints forward, barreling into his core with a high knee kick, making Toji stumble back and double over grunting before righting himself. She recenters herself a few feet away from him, her hands up in a defensive stance as she waits for him to come back at her. The sound of his low, mocking laughter ripples through her before the flash of his sweater is all she can see, his movements too quick to follow before the impact. He runs into her, picking her up to tackle her into a pile of old pallets, making them splinter beneath their weight. Toji lands one good blow to the side of her face before grabbing her throat. “You sneaky cunt you think that kick was going to what...hurt me? I thought you were going to come at me with all you’ve got.” Toji squeezes the fingers around her windpipe tighter, causing her vision to blur. “You’re nothing but another weak, good for nothing, whore.”His grip is tight, holding Naraka down as her mind begins to rage. This motherfucker is fucking DEAD! Fuck this shit! Through the pain searing in her throat, with deadly precision, Naraka wraps her muscular thighs around his neck and grabs his arm into a lock, pulling out from beneath him, trying to snap the bone, forcing him to release her throat. With a swift kick from her legs, she’s able to throw him off balance and roll out from beneath him, back into a defensive stance out of the debris of destroyed pallets. Catching her breath, Naraka looks at him with deadly brown eyes, “You, fucker, you think this is a fucking game of the weak? Save your laughter and weak ass insults for a bitch who fucking cares. Your problem is you don't want to admit I’m a threat because I’ve got a pussy.” Naraka smirks, glaring at him as his shoulders roll back, bringing him to his full height and smirking right back at her, “Lucky for you, I’m in the mood to teach a useless meat sack to kneel.”

She wipes the blood from her chin with the back of her hand, swiping her tongue across her lower lip and tasting the familiar metallic flavor in her mouth. “Though I’ll admit, no man has gone this hard on me in a while...usually, even in bed, I’m the one who runs shit.” Toji stood and began to brush off the debris from his sweater. “No weakling has been my punching bag...well, at least for a hot minute.” Naraka reaches beneath her skirt again, pulling out the last of her blades, wielding them at the ready. Toji’s eyes travel the length of her body, “You know...you're pretty fucking sexy...especially for a dead bitch.” Toji brushes the last of the debris off of his sweater, bringing his hands to rest at his side, “Tell me, are you ready to die for a job? For a crime syndicate that doesn’t give a shit whether you live or die?” Naraka smiles wide showing her pearly white gappy teeth, baring her gremlin like grin, she must look certifiably insane to Toji, “I have nothing nor anyone to live for...I like hearing the screams and cries for mercy when I get to cut down worthless fuckers like yourself.” Toji laughs loud enough for his baritone to echo off the surrounding empty buildings. “Finally, someone who’s worthy, I’ve been waiting a long time to butt heads with the likes of you. Maybe you’ll surprise me and give me something that makes me feel.”  Naraka wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling, it feels like a current of excitement intertwining with thin threads of what seemed like, hope? Not a feeling she’s used to, but she pushes it aside, ready for him to come at her with everything he had, “Are you gonna talk the whole time or are you gonna shut the fuck up and come at me big boy.” Toji walks away from the debris and readies himself, his posture extending to stand, what seemed like, ten inches taller.

Naraka braces herself, making sure her revolver is ready as she watches Toji reach behind him and pull forth a large blade. Shit! The cursed tool I was warned about. She knows it has the potential to inflict some serious pain and she’s going to have to put forth all her efforts to come out of this alive. The smile that splays across both their faces is truly horrific and beautiful, yet chilling to normal passerby. The levels of their predatory and survival instincts in full swing were tangible in the atmosphere. With one more breath, it’s instant, Toji lunges and Naraka fends off each swing and slash from Toji’s weapon with nothing but her strength and small blades. When she catches his blade, stopping it with the top of her shoulder, she feels him pull, letting the edge of the cursed object open her skin, searing her nerve endings with instant pain. She jumps back and grabs her shoulder, grunting as she fights to push it to the back of her mind. “That blade packs a punch, big boy. You even cut my favorite jacket up.” Naraka stands and shakes her arm out before returning to her defensive stance, “So considerate of you to wait on me...oh wait, a-are you getting tired?” She chuckles and hears him growl, “Awe, is Big Boy grumpy?” She giggles like a schoolgirl when Toji lunges once again. She dodges and fights off each of his attacks, the clangs from their blades meeting, and their grunts and curses of exertion echoing throughout the warehouse yard. This time her daggers cut into his sweater and kiss the skin beneath his shirt. She watches as small droplets of blood blossom upon the fabric of his oversized sweater. “Now, look at what you’ve done. You’ve ruined one of my favorite sweaters.” Toji stabs his blade into the ground beside him and pulls the sweater off, discarding it to the ground below, glaring at the small slash across his abdomen that was hugged by a tight-fitting black T-shirt. Naraka saw every muscle, every valley, and dip of his broad chest. Her arousal spreads through her bloodstream like poison, each beat of her heart sending it pulsing through her blood stream. “Well, well, well, Big Boy has looks.” She smirks at him and licks her lips, stalking him like a ravenous lioness, hungry for her prey. “Sad, I was thinking about making you scream my name before I let you bleed out beneath me.” This time Naraka lunges at Toji, a perfect opportunity since he was disarmed. She catches his forearm and slices, watching his arm bleed as she smiles wider knowing that she surprised him. Toji fends off her attacks and eventually disarms her, leaving her with nothing but her fists. She lands a couple of blows to his torso and face. Toji doesn’t realize she’s drawing him further away from his blade and her hand-to-hand combat is top tier. Toji swings, catching her by the mouth as he chuckles, thinking for sure she was going to hit the ground, knocked out cold, when Naraka stumbles in front of him and spits the blood pooling in her mouth onto the ground below. She looks up with killer determination, glaring at Toji, “You take punches like a good cunt. I wonder what else you can take?” Naraka’s glare alone would have curdled a civilian’s stomach. Toji feels his cock twitch at the sight of her standing her ground after taking a full punch to the face.

His gaze follows her body as she straightens up, pulling her ruined denim jacket off. His eyes widen at the ripples of sinew that accentuate her curves moving in sync as she stretches her arms above her head and settles into her defensive stance. He finally understood, this woman can take a full-on barrage of punches and kicks because of the machine that was her body. He licks his lips, his erection beginning to strain against his pants. I want to break this woman. He watches as Naraka reaches down, tearing open the side of her skirt to reveal the hidden Magnum 357 on her thigh harness. Watching her rip the fabric to create space for her thick thighs only made him salivate like Pavlov’s dog. “Like what you see Big Boy?” Her fingers wrap around the base of her Revolver and she holds it up, opening the chamber and spinning it for effect. “You know I thought you’d be more vicious with me. I’m actually kind of let down that you weren’t rougher.” Naraka whips the chamber closed and pulls the hammer back on the gun. Toji, clearly turned on by the woman in front of him, grabs his blade and brings it in front of him, “I guess you really are choosing to be another dead bitch then.” Naraka smiles back at him, “Make me cry pendejo.”

Without another word Naraka shoots off a couple rounds, one of them grazing his arm, as he dodges with superhuman grace that made her head spin. He didn’t slow down in her direction, he’s already on her fast and heavy, crashing into her and knocking the wind out of her, causing the revolver to fumble out of her grasp and clatter on the ground. Her back hits the wall of the crumbling warehouse and she grunts at the pain. Toji holds her small body up by her throat and puts a thick muscular thigh between her center before bringing his cursed tool to trace the valley between her breasts up to her cheek. “You have such beautiful copper skin,” the feeling of the cool blade biting into her should’ve sparked something like panic, but she doesn’t take her eyes off of him. “It looks better when it’s bleeding,” he continued. She bites her lip trying to hold in her muffled screams but the pain is too great. Her eyes clench as the sound ripples from her throat, reverberating off the walls around them as Toji smirks. “There’s the sound I've been waiting for. Let’s hear it again, hmm?” He lifts the blade away from her chest, only to bring it back down onto her shoulder. It’s ironic how gently he delivers the seething pain with a slow slicing movement. Leading the tip of his blade towards her collarbone. She unleashes another guttural scream, squirming to fight for a way to get out of his monstrous vice grip. Her vision is becoming dark around the edges but she looks into his eyes and watches him come close, his hot breath across her lips while she grabs his wrist in an attempt to pull herself up. “You look so good in a helpless position...it makes me want to really break you like the worthless whore you are, Angel face.” Toji licks up the fresh blood on her wounded cheek before crashing his full lips onto hers. She moans at the taste of copper upon his tongue as he takes her mouth, letting his strong muscle fight and compete with hers. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!

Naraka feels her arousal engulf her as she relaxes, moaning into Toji’s mouth. Her core becomes slick and soaks through her panties as she moves her hands up to entangle in his straight black hair, pulling his head back. He hisses with the pain of her nails digging into his scalp as Naraka breaks the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip and biting to draw blood. He growls as she relinquishes his mouth and Toji moves his blade to the top of her shirt, slowly letting the cool edge of the blade open another cut across her sternum making her scream turning into a pleasurable moan, “You taste so good on my lips, just like the bitch in heat I know you are, I want more.” He presses his body into her, dropping his head down to the open cut and licking around the wound, still pinning her against the wall with his strong chokehold and muscular thigh. “F-fuck, I want to fucking hear you cry my name-” Naraka hooks her legs around his center and pulls him in tighter, casuing his hips to dig into her aching cunt allowing her to feel how hard his dick has been this entire time. She rolls her hips just enough against his erection and he shudders as she moans from the friction she craved, “F-Fuck!” Toji hears her purring moan at the action of her rolling her hips into his cock and he’s unable to control himself. He takes the blade and cuts through her shirt and bra, her heavy breasts springing free, heaving with each laboured breath. He watches her skin flash with goosebumps from the cool air caressing her bare torso. 

He smiles wider, licking his lips in anticipation like the ravenous predator he was. “You nasty whore, your nipples are pierced...tell me, how does it feel if I-'' Toji takes the edge of his blade and catches one end of the piercing, making it reverberate when he flicks the bar. Naraka’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she moans, squeezing his waist tighter between her muscular thighs, “Y-yesss,” she hisses, before looking back to see Toji dip his head down to one of her exposed tits and stick his tongue out to swirl around the light brown flesh before flicking the piercing and latching on to suck and swirl while grinding his cock into her center harder. Toji finally let go of her throat and she takes the opportunity to grab his thick tresses again and pull his head back, “I’m gonna make you cry bitch.” She head butted Toji, hearing a crunch, and forced him to stumble back crying out at the pain. Once she catches herself and leans up against the wall for support, she catches her breath and slips the wrecked top and bra off. “You know that was my favorite lace bra...I guess we’re even, asshole.” Toji stands and wipes the blood from the broken nose, groaning. Naraka runs at him, jumping up, and wrapping her legs around his head. His face between her thighs, she uses  her force and weight to take him to the ground onto his back. Toji doesn’t miss a beat, latching his arms around her thighs while taking in her scent, “Fuck, you smell so fucking good.” He dives into her center and grinds his face into her drenched pussy. Naraka shudders at the feeling of his face grinding into her, rolling her hips into him making him growl against her, she feels him bring his hands to her center, “These are fucking useless.” He rips her fishnets and grabs her soaked panties to tear them off. Naraka clenches, gasping at the action of the fabric being torn away. She grabs a fistful of his hair again as he licks a wet strip from her opening to her clit. Toji moans as he tastes the slickness of her arousal that coats her thighs, “Look at you, you’re such a fucking mess,” Toji swirls his muscle around her clit, “Such a fucking cock tease, a worthless, fucking whore.” Toji tastes more of her, knowing full well the shit talking and degradation was making her come undone. Naraka looks down and holds his head down, her eyes blown out, “Shut the fuck up and get fucked Big Boy.” She doesn’t hesitate, suffocating him with her pussy, feeling his muscle work wonders against her engorged clit, “Yess, hnngggh, so fucking good.” He sucks and tastes with open mouth kisses on her thighs and digs his fingernails in as he keeps going back for more. She’s at the precipice of her orgasm when Toji pulls back and bites her thigh hard, drawing blood, making Naraka convulse and cry out cumming in his face, “Fuck you!!! OH FUCK, OH FUCK!!!” She squeezes his head between her strong thighs, letting him tongue fuck her entrance as she clamps down, making him moan into her, tasting the intoxicating mix of her orgasm and blood.

Toji feels her grip release from his hair as her legs begin to relax around his head. Reaching up, he clutches her throat and rolls her to her back, slamming her into the ground. Taking her lips, he hitches her leg up on his side, “I��m going to break you and watch you fucking come undone. You. Are. Nothing.” Toji watches as Naraka’s breath catches, her eyes rolling in the back of her head again, “But you know what...I think you’d look better from behind, face in the dirt.” He pulls her up by her throat, taking her lips again as he fists her hair and stands to make her get on all fours. Naraka moans at the feeling of her hair being pulled with so much force. Her knees being scraped open and bleeding into the dirt, as his fingernails dig into her scalp. Forced onto all fours she looks up at him and watches his eyes flash before he gets behind her and shoves her face into the dirt below. Naraka feels the debris from the dirt enter her open wound and screams in agony and pleasure as he grinds the side of her face deeper into the ground, “That’s right bitch, fucking scream for me.” Toji pulled his cock out, slick from his own arousal, and pumps a few times while he grinds Naraka’s face in more and more into the dirt below. He watches as her tight whole clenches, beckoning him, it makes him quiver as he guides his thick cock into her entrance.

She takes in the feeling of the pain and pleasure as he puts all his strength into grinding her face into the ground. She feels him tear her fishnets more as his rough, thick digits slide and explore her drenched slit before diving into her plush walls and feeling her clench at the roughness of the pads of his fingers pump in and out. Naraka hears him groan before she looks back from the ground to see the large and heavy cock that he was pumping with his free hand. She moaned at the sight of his shirt lifted, eyeing the veins on his adonis belt as he clenches while stroking. When she feels the fat head of his cock at her entrance, she moans and cries out when he thrusts into her, bottoming out inside of her. “F-Fuck, so fucking tight.” As Toji drags out, Naraka can feel the prominent vein beneath his dick hitting all her walls. She doesn’t have a chance to absorb all of the feeling before he thrusts back in, bruising her swollen lips. “I- hah- I didn’t think a yakuza slut would be this fucking t-tight...Oh fuck.” Naraka moans out and claws at the dirt, “Fuuck, Shut the fuck up, and fuck me harder; I thought you were fucking brutal not, ahhhhh, a soft little bitch.” Toji thrust in and out at a harder pace and grabs her hair, wrenching her up to force her to arch her back. He digs his nails into her hip as Naraka feels every blow, his girth and length bruising her cervix. “F-fuck! That’s it Big Boy, hnnnngh, Show me what you got! You won’t break me.”

“Hah-mmmm. Listen to you,” he growls, “You’re such a fucking brat! Shut the fuck up and take this cock.” Toji reaches around her chest and pulls her into his muscled chest, feeling her grab onto his forearm and dig her nails into his flesh as he continues the vicious thrusts of his cock, shoving his fingers into her mouth. Naraka tastes herself on his fingers and grunts with every touch to her cervix by Toji’s cock. Her saliva begins to pool in her mouth as she’s being gagged by his thick fingers and it begins to overflow, past her lips and down her throat. Her spine starts to coil and become taught from the earth shattering orgasm that’s at its tipping point, she begins to feel Toji’s cock twitch inside of her. “That’s it bitch, you sound better when your fucking mouth’s full of my fucking fingers, hah-, fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna fucking spray your insides with me and ruin this fucking pussy!” Harder and harder he thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against her, “Fucking touch yourself and make yourself cum on this cock, DO IT NOW.” Naraka, wanting her release, reaches down with one hand and begins to put pressure on her clit, circling around her aching bundle of nerves. “F-Faster, make yourself fucking come. You better fucking come right fucking now or I’ll fucking kill you.” She moans against his fingers and feels her walls begin to convulse and clench around his hard cock when she hears him throw his head back and with one more violent thrust into her turn her pink insides white with his thick seed. “FUUUCCKKK!” Toji spills himself inside of her and feels her walls clench down, milking him for every drop he’s worth. He begins to shudder and groan at the feeling of her taking his soul from him. Toji let her go and holds onto her hips as she falls forward, moaning with a primal cry, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

Naraka sees stars behind her eyelids as she closes them to catch her breath, with Toji’s cock still inside her still semi hard, she opens them again when she feels his grip relax. This is my chance to knock him out and run. Naraka takes the chance and pulls away slowly standing up. Toji watches as she turns toward him, brushing his hair, damp with sweat away from his eyes. His head hitting her shoulders she smiled wickedly, “You were the best fuck I’ve ever had Toji Fushiguro.” She was so short she just grabbed the back of his head and brought his lips towards her while he was on his knees, when she breaks the kiss she looks at him, “I guess I’ll let you live another day.” He never notices the brass knuckles attached to her fist when she puts all her force into knocking him unconscious. It’s the last thing he sees as his vision blackens and he’s out cold on the ground with his pants around his knees. Naraka chuckles and drops the brass knuckles beside him, “Goodnight Toji, consider your debt paid.” She straightens herself out, cleaning up as much as she can, and walks toward his cut and bloodied sweater, “I’ll just take this as a souvenir, I need a shirt anyways. Can’t walk around half naked.” Putting his sweater on, she leaves him behind in the dirt and smiles while tracing her bruised lips with her fingertips. Before getting too far she stops, backtracking toward his unconscious body. “You know, el grande, I don’t think you’ll need this either.” She reaches into his pants and takes the cash she attempted to swipe earlier. “Well, can’t make it too easy on you. Good luck getting home” She smirks, nudging his mound of a body with her boot as she stashes the cash in her thigh harness. She can’t help but laugh as she walks back towards the bustling sea of people out of the shadows feeling the ghost of his touch against her face. She lets a whisper of a thought graze across her mind, I hope he finds me again one day, knowing full well she’s ignited the spark to an overwhelming fire.

[neakco]

Invisible

AO3

Based roughly off the song Invisible by Anna Clendening.

Marinette realizes her feelings for Adrien are invisible. She knows her friends want her to confess but she is done.

Marinette stopped her mad dash towards the park where Adrien was currently having a photo shoot.

 

“Girl, come on. He's right there.” Alya paused briefly but overall kept moving forward.

 

Marinette didn’t move. Why did she keep doing this? It was just going to end in disaster. Her heart would start beating too quickly, followed with her overthinking every word she said. This would cause her to jumble everything and then Adrien would give that polite smile and wrongly translate her mess of words. This wasn’t a path to happy ever after. This was a path to regret.

 

Yes she loves him, but he doesn’t see her as more then a friend. It seems like she doesn’t even exist as romanceable in his mind. He just lives his life as she continues planning a future that will never happen.

 

What if she just gave up? Turned around now and went home. What if she just stopped loving him? Would he even notice? In the very least it would put a stop to these crazy schemes. Is he really so naïve that he doesn’t  see the hearts he breaks?

 

Marinette clenched her fist. She was tired of tripping, tired of getting tongue-tied, all because she hyper focused on Adrien. This isn’t who she is. She isn’t dumb, she isn’t a clutz.

 

It would almost be better if she was invisible. If he didn’t see her at all, not even as a friend, then she could easily dismiss her feelings as a celebrity crush.

 

She roughly came out of her thoughts as Alya started physically dragging her towards the park.

 

“Really girl? If you freeze now how are you going to handle actually seeing the boy?”

 

Marinette pulled her arm free, “Alya, I don’t think I want to do this.”

 

“That’s just nerves. You can do this.”

 

She stood her ground, “No. I want to be done. I don’t want to like Adrien anymore.”

 

“Seriously Marinette.” Alya rolled her eyes, “You have been crushing on him for years now.” She reached forward to grab her again but Marinette stepped back.

 

“No Alya, I'm done! I am done embarrassing myself, done lowering myself. I'm going home.”

 

“It's just nerves.”

 

Before Marinette could knock her friend’s reaching hand away a man had stepped between them.

 

He kept his back to her as he guarded her from her friend. “Alya was it? The girl said she didn’t want to. No means no.”

 

From what she could see, the man had black hair that just covered his ears and was a little taller then her. He was wearing a well loved red hoodie and slim fit dress pants and what appeared to be black plimsolls.

 

Marinette could hear Alya stomp her foot.

 

“And just who are you to get between me and my bestie?”

 

“Tim Drake, and I'm a passerby that saw an uncomfortable girl saying no to something that someone else was trying to pressure her into.” He stepped more thoroughly between them. “I don’t care if she is your twin sister. No one has the right to force anyone else to do something that makes them uncomfortable.”

 

Marinette’s face turned pink, she could hear Alya yelling loudly about how shy Mari was and that she needed a push, but she wasn’t fully listening. Only her parents and Luka had ever told her it was okay not to do something that made her uncomfortable.

 

There was a gentle hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Adrien.

 

“Is that true Mari? Do you have a crush on me?”

 

She blinked as time seemed to slow for her, in a flutter of time she noticed everything. Alya squealing to the stranger that she was right, the stranger apologizing and gracefully taking his leave, and Adrien’s strained and hesitant yet still genuine smile.

 

“No. No I don’t. You’re just a great friend.”

 

Adrien's smile widened, “Thanks Mari. You’re a great friend too, one of the best.”

 

Before she could respond he was being called back to work so she waved goodbye. Turning she saw that Alya was staring and had dropped her phone.

 

“Look, I will call you later, there’s something I need to do.” Marinette took off at a run before she could collect herself.

 

She was headed in the direction the stranger, Tim, had gone. For someone only a couple of centimeters taller than her he sure made good time. Finally she spotted him.

 

“Tim.” For a brief moment she would have sworn he had shifted into a fighting stance before settling into a more relaxed pose.

 

“Can I help you miss?”

 

“Marinette" She smiled, “I wanted to thank you for what you said at the park.”

 

“Oh,” he blinked a couple times as if waking up, “I thought, I might have, you looked confident.”

 

“It was your words that gave me that confidence. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“I was wondering if I could get you a coffee, to thank you properly, or a tea if you don’t like coffee.” She smiled with only a hint of nerves.

 

His tired blue eyes seemed to perk up a bit at the idea. “You don’t have to, I was just the right thing to do, but if you could show me a place willing to serve me a large cup of espresso then I won’t say no.”

 

She laughed, “We are going to have to travel a bit for that. These places are for tourists , you need one of the local places for a request like that.”

 

The man dropped, actually drooped. She had to stop herself from laughing harder.

 

“Lucky for you I am a born local, I can even show you the fastest route.”

 

He seemed to weigh his options , “It has been long enough since I have had a decent cup that I would probably follow you through the catacombs right now.”

 

She laughed as she started walking towards her favourite café. “I think the catacombs are a bit too much of an adventure to tackle before coffee, though if you really want an adventure we can always stop at the best patisserie for supplies. After grabbing coffee of course.”

 

He easily kept pace beside her, “I thought your friend said you were shy.”

 

“I'm really not. I just put a friend on a pedestal before overthinking and overanalyzing everything. It wasn’t fair to me or him.”

 

“So you don’t like him?” Tim's expression was odd and possibly hopeful, but she didn’t know him nearly well enough to place it.

 

“I used to. Everyone was always pushing me towards him so I never got a moment to realize my feelings had faded to those of a friend.”

 

“That I very brave of you to admit Marinette.” His expression had turned far away.

 

“Speaking from experience?”

 

“A little. This trip to Paris is actually to help me discover myself again.”

 

They had arrived at the small café tucked away in a hidden corner and Marinette took him to her favourite table.

 

She took a card out of her wallet and handed it to him, “Well if you ever want company to show you around town feel free to give me a call.”

 

“You're a designer? That is amazing.”

 

Marinette grinned as she settled into a long conversation over coffee, it was nice not to feel like her feelings were invisible.

Since my computer is still broken this was typed on my phone.

I hope you enjoyed and know that there will likely be a small spin off story because this story really didn't want to end.

So anything you want to see let me know in the comments and I will do my best to include it.

[tallycraven]

thoughts on a raylla hercules AU?

ohhh? OH. I can see that, but with major changes to mythology to match themes, maybe? if disney did it so can i 

raelle is the daughter of hades and a mortal. not that she knows that.

her mother, hades, had to hide her and leave her in the mortal realm in fear of retaliation from the olympians. they would take her for their own, raise her as an arrogant demigod, charge her with duties of honor and glory-- send her to die on one of their battlefields. hades couldn’t have that. 

so, she snuck her baby away and hid her amongst the bushes, tucked between the safety of two cypress trees, hoping for her a better future than to be bound to the olympians or the darkness of the underworld. hades left her with nothing but a small bone charm, inscribed with her given name and imbued with the same kind of magic as the helm of darkness; something to keep her hidden from olympian view.

she was found near a ravine by a couple of farmers; a wife and husband that had been praying to the gods for a baby for so long that they hardly blinked at the chance of getting to raise the small pale being that’d been abandoned to the wolves.

raelle was raised with love and care despite the meager wealth of her parents, but she always felt like something was missing. 

she’s absurdly strong, for one thing. for another, she’s got a silver tongue and often wins any debate or bet with barely a bat of her lashes. 

this, in combination with her paleness -- fair of skin and hair with eyes close to frost on those rare snowy winter days -- led her to be shunned and feared by other children and villagers.

her adoptive parents, seeing her distress over the feeling of not belonging, shows her the bone charm, tells her of the runes inscribed along the back and the place where they found her. a gift from the gods, they call her.

it still doesn’t explain anything. 

raelle makes the decision to take the charm and climb to a temple of athena in search of answers.

when she makes it there, it’s nothing but a vast hall of stone and offerings. no goddess, no moment of clarity, no answers. 

she’s in the midst of storming off in a rage when an owl lands on a perch and stares at her inquisitively.

it speaks to her. it speaks to raelle in a voice that’s strong and assertive, if not a bit amused. 

“i do not know who you are. but if you are a godling, you must prove yourself before the eyes of gods and men.”

a godling? raelle wants to ask. but talking to an owl seems ludicrous. so she just stares and blinks like an idiot.

the owl just laughs. tells raelle of a place to find a woman in self-imposed isolation. a hermit who will guide her along, wishes her luck before lifting away on magnificent wings and disappearing into the night.

the trek to find this hermit is hard and raelle almost quits and turns around more than once. but where would she go? to a village where everyone fears her? no. the only way forwards is onwards. 

raelle finds the hermit on a secluded island off the mainland. her yard is littered with half-finished marble statues and shooting targets with perfectly placed arrows stuck into them. swords, spears, and shields are lined and stacked in orderly fashion at the bases of trees.

right as raelle is about to knock on the door to the lone homestead, the door swings open to reveal a tall woman with dark skin and a piercing stare.

“godling.”

“you know who i am?”

“so you do think you’re a godling?”

“what? no, i--”

“prove it.”

her name is anacostia. she turns out to be the most no-nonsense taskmaster that raelle’s ever heard of.

she didn’t know she could feel sore, but the first two weeks in, she’s pretty sure her arms are going to pop off of her body. she complains and anacostia only raises an eyebrow before making her take another lap around the island.

it pays off though. her lithe form fills out with lean and hard muscle; her strength adopts accuracy and grace.

months pass and raelle trades her shabby farm clothes for a clean white tunic and armor to match.

anacostia doesn’t speak it, but raelle can see the charmed pride in her eyes when they sit quietly by the fire at the end of raelle’s last day as anacostia’s student.

“where will you go next?” anacostia asks

“back to the temple, i suppose.”

“strength does not make a hero, raelle. tasks and duty do.”

“what does that mean?”

“athena told you to prove yourself before the eyes of gods and men.”

“alright, so, what?” raelle frowns, staring into the fire. “i go slay a monster, save a damsel, rescue someone’s pet dog, and then i get access to olympus?”

it’s one of the few times anacostia has openly laughed and raelle feels weirdly justified by it.

“come with me.” raelle says.

anacostia starts shaking her head, leaning back against the tree behind her. “i can’t.”

“why not? you’re my mentor, i can’t do this without you.”

silence, for a while.

“i have duties i must attend to.”

“you’re alone on an island all day, what duties do you possibly have? counting and sweeping leaves?”

“training a mouthy godling, apparently.”

silence, again. anacostia watches raelle from across the fire. five minutes pass before she gives in with a nod. 

“okay. i’ll come.”

they set out in the morning in the direction of thebes. it’s a long walk along the main road, so they slip off it at one point, going through the woods to cut half a day off travel.

that’s when raelle hears her. 

a melodic voice with lilted accent, clean and crisp and irritated. 

raelle stops in her tracks and drifts towards the noise, much to anacostia’s annoyance. 

“what are you doing, godling? get back here.”

“i think i hear a damsel.” raelle replies half-joking with a quirked eyebrow-- an expression that she definitely lifted from anacostia.

she sticks her head out from behind a tree and spots the source of the voice: a girl in a purple dress adorned in golden jewelry talking to a towering centaur.

raelle’s been through a lot the past few months, but nothing has left her quite as stunned and dazed as this stranger. it takes the conflict between the stranger and the centaur becoming physical to get raelle out of the bushes and into action.

anacostia sighs and steps out of the bushes to watch raelle’s first real fight.

it’s fairly easy to beat the centaur and send him running off into the woods. it’s not as easy to get her brain to properly communicate to the gorgeous stranger, now soaked by stream that the centaur had dropped her in.

“are you alright?” 

“i had that under control.” the stranger grumbles, wringing water out of her clothes and brushing her dark hair back.

“an extra hand never hurt though, he had two extra legs. it was an unfair fight.” raelle counters.

the stranger seems to smile at that, and after squeezing as much water out from her dress as she can, she offers raelle a smile. 

“scylla.”

“i’m sorry?”

“that’s my name.”

“oh... oh!” raelle’s eyebrows draw together into a crinkle. “like the monster?”

“my parents had a sense of humor.” scylla drawls, “what about you, hero?”

“uh, i’m.. uh,” so much for a silver tongue. “raelle.”

scylla blinks at her and hums in acknowledgement before turning to glance at anacostia, who’s still watching from the treeline.

“well, rae,” scylla smirks, “it was a pleasure. thank you for the soak. catch you around.”

she turns to go and raelle finds herself rushing two steps forward, “wait! can we escort you? we’re headed to thebes. these woods are dangerous and--”

“i’ll be alright,” scylla laughs, turning as she continues to walk away, “i’m a big girl-- can slay my own centaurs. bye now, hero.”

it’s with pitiful heart eyes that raelle raises her hand to give a weak wave. “bye...”

raelle stays rooted to the ground for at least two minutes before a pat to her back makes her jump in surprise.

anacostia only looks at her with that damned quirked eyebrow and hard gaze. 

“hope you enjoyed that, because you have actual work to do that doesn’t involve making eyes at good-looking strangers.”

“did you see her, ana? gods, she was... wow”

anacostia rolls her eyes and walks away, towards the direction of thebes.

it takes raelle more than a second to follow after, an extra bounce in her step. -------------- x   --------------

scylla sighs as she makes her way through the woods, running a hand through her slowly-drying hair.

the mission was a bust and she’s hungry as fuck. 

she’s weighing the pros and cons of hunting down her own meal when two figures step into her path.

they’re both tall, cloaked in familiar dark blue robes and donning small silver pins in the shape of a bident by their calsps. 

one of them has red hair and a patient smile, hands held in front of herself as she stands in scylla’s way.

the other is less approachable. her hood is pulled up, hiding her dark skin and dismissive frown. 

“ah. great. i was wondering when i was going to get a visit from henchmen one and two.”

“that’s not very nice.” the red-haired one pouts, hands unclutching to move to her hips in an indignant stance.

“tally and i come all the way up here to make sure you accomplish your task only to find you soaked to the core and centaur-less.”

“abigail, there’s no need to berate her yourself.”

that’s when a heavy heat rolls in out of nowhere and scylla feels herself stiffen in response.

the shadows in the trees are looming, coalescing and giving form to a tall and imposing woman with threatening posture and an expression that gives away nothing but a hint of disappointment.

“did i not ask you to bring me nessus? to join the cause?”

scylla sighs, leans up against a tree so that at least she’s protected from behind. “yes, hades, i’m sorry, hades.”

“sorry doesn’t make up for a lost ally.”

“well, i almost had him, but then he got handsy and some hero named raelle stumbled out of nowhere and scared him off!” 

hades freezes, all her composure melted into a singular expression of confusion and awe and surprise.

“raelle?”

tally tilts her head and abigail straightens out from her lax lean against her own tree.

“that’s the name she gave,” scylla frowns at the growing tension, already looking for a way out of this conversation and away from these three.

but there is no way out. not with her soul bound and in hades’s possession. not with her closest two soldiers standing right there. scylla grumbles quietly to herself and presses harder against the tree.

then hades says the one thing she hates hearing hades say.

“i have a new job for you.”

[amlovelies]

Addie

Part 1 of 3: Hunger

pairing: vexx serif/f!traveler (Adonia) ratings/warning: mature-some light spice. angst words: 2.2 k a/n: parts 2 and 3 are written I’m just editing them. this is very self indulgent and my first time writing for a6 so please be gentle 💜 

this is a prequel fic set right after the flashback scene in chapter 3. spoilers for chapter 5

read on ao3

               Adonia’s heart is pounding as they round the corner and slide into yet another of the hidden passageways which traverse the palace walls and grounds. She isn’t sure if the guards figured out the entrance behind the tapestry or not, but they wouldn’t be so lucky twice.

               She slumps against the cold stone wall of the passageway. A laugh threatens to bubble up and burst out of her chest. She can’t remember a time when she’s felt so alive. The whole night feels like a dream, a wonderful dream, and she never would have experienced it if it wasn’t for Vexx.

               She never would have been brave enough, or reckless enough to attend if it wasn’t for him. She’d gotten so used to just creeping through the empty halls and watching others’ lives unfold from the shadows.

               Her heart swells as she looks at him. He’s hard to see in the dim light, especially with his ear pressed up against the false wall listening for any sound of pursuit. Not that she needs to see him to picture his face. His green eyes shining with mischief behind his simple black domino mask and his hair in messy tangles after an evening of dancing and leading his fellow guards on a merry chase.

               “It looks like we lost them,” he says as he turns to face her. He dips into a deep bow before rising and offering her his arm, “shall we promenade your highness?”

               “But of course, my dear sir,” she says with an extravagant curtsy as if they are still in the center of the great hall before a gaggle of assorted nobles rather than in a cramped cobwebbed passage with only the spiders to observe them.

               Adonia slips her arm into his with a giggle and he takes the opportunity to pull her closer and place a brief kiss on her cheek. It’s enough to make her heart skip a beat. It’s almost too easy for him to effect it.

               They set a slow and leisurely pace along the passageway. Neither of them seems to be in any hurry to reach the other side. Their steps are soft, but still echo in the confined spaces. They don’t speak. There’s no need, and besides they’d rather not alert any one to their presence in the walls.  

               When they reach the end, Adonia hesitates before stepping into the moonlit gardens. Even the familiar paths feel more magical tonight, the white blossoms glowing as if lit from within. The air is sweet with their fragrance and she can still hear the music from the party. It is faint, but she can still pick up the melody. She lingers at the edges unwilling to step onto the manicured path. It’s one step closer to this night ending, and if she could, she would stretch this moment out forever.

               Vexx tugs on her hand, “don’t expect me to carry you. I told you not to wear those shoes, besides it’s not much further.” He gestures with a toss of his head to where her rooms lay just across the way.

               “It’s not that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Thank you for tonight, Vexx. I don’t know if I ever had so much fun.”

               “Not even watching those street performers last month?”

               “Not even then,” she answers with a smile.

               They’d stayed out later than usual that night. Both unwilling to return to the confines of the palace and their assigned roles. It was so much easier to be Addie than to be the Princess Adonia Selene Peg’asi.  The performers had been fascinating and delightful, but what Adonia remembers more is the way that Vexx kissed her when they finally maneuver through the patrolling guards and found themselves in the familiar darkness of the passageway.

               He’d never kissed her like that before, always so careful. Hands on her waist or cupping her face. His kisses soft and tender, never pushing, but that night he had pressed himself against her, his hand tangling in her hair and pressing her back against the wall of the tunnel. She remembers in perfect clarity the shock of his hand delving under her shirt and running over the bare skin of her back.

               It’s not that Adonia is oblivious about sex. When you spend a good part of your free time creeping through abandoned halls you come across some pretty interesting scenes. She remembers a few years ago when she happened across a pair of guards tucked into a corner. She had fled from their soft moans and whimpers a profound feeling of embarrassment overwhelming her normally curious nature.

               She hadn’t been able to run from the way that kiss had made her feel. In the month since there had been a hunger to their kisses that hadn’t been there before.

               “It doesn’t have to end so soon,” Vexx says and Adonia’s skin heats at the way his eyes trace over her body, linger on the curve of her breast, and finally fixate on her lips. “We can still hear the music, how about one more dance?”

               This dance feels different from the ones they’d shared in the ballroom. There it was all fun and laughter, but this feels heavy and wanting. When his hand drifts lower on her back it feels like a question, one she isn’t sure she knows the answer to, but she wants to find out.

               He hums as they spin in the garden pulling her much closer than propriety would allow in the crowded ballroom, even for an anonymous masked couple.

               “I didn’t know you were musical, Vexx,” she teases. “What other secrets are you keeping from me?”

               His steps falter and she almost loses her balance from the jarring movement, “there was a rock,” he mumbles by way of explanation. They find their rhythm again quickly this time without any humming from Vexx.

               Even this attempt at elongating the night comes to an end and they stand in front of her bedchamber door.

               “Good night, Addie.” He drops a brief kiss to the edge of her lips and begins to walk away back toward the barracks.

               “Wait,” she says the word a little too loud for the quiet hallway.

                “I could use some help,” her voice shakes but she swallows down the nerves that threaten to overwhelm her. “With the dress, I mean.” She turns to show the long line of buttons lining the back.

               She’s thought about it for weeks. Lain awake and imagined his lips and the feel of his bares skin under her hands. They have already thrown caution to the wind tonight, so why not this?

               Her face burns as she waits for his response. His hand reaches out and his finger runs down the line of her spine along the neat row of buttons sending a shiver through her body.

               She can’t read the expression on his face, and she can’t bear to wait for his response. She leaves the door open behind her as she enters her room and crosses to turn on the small lamp beside her bed.

               She hears the door click shut behind her and her breath stops until she hears his footsteps approaching her. Her heart is beating so loud, he can probably hear it. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands or her arms or any part of her, so she just stands at the edge of her bed waiting.

               He doesn’t touch the buttons, but instead reaches up to untie the mask covering the top half of her face. Her hands shake as she removes it, but she’s at least happy to have something to do with them.          

               His hands sweep her hair out of the way before placing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. A small whispered gasp of surprise escapes her lips and she feels more than hears the soft chuckle that escapes him.

               His nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons as his lips ghost over her neck. She can feel each kiss like a brand on her skin.

               He reaches the end of the buttons. She swears that, even though they aren’t touching, she can feel the heat of his body on the exposed skin of her back. She thought she would feel more afraid right now, and she does, but more than anything she feels an excitement coursing through her veins.

               She turns to face him and lets the dress drop. It flares out around her as it falls like the petals of a gigantic flower.

               “You’re so very beautiful, Addie.” The words hold none of Vexx’s usual snark. His eyes trace over her face his hand skimming down the column of her throat and dancing lightly along the edge of her breasts.

                Perhaps she should feel bashful, feel nervous and exposed under his gaze, but all Adonia feels is breathless. She could spend forever under his gaze; she hopes she will.

               He still has his mask on. She reaches out and gently removes it from his face. His green eyes are darkened by desire. Desire for her. It’s a heady and new feeling and causes warmth to pool in the pit of her stomach.

               “I am yours. You have to know that,” she says answering his question from earlier in the night.

               She’d been his since that day he took her hand and led her out into the city streets. She’d been his since he called her Addie and looked at her like a real person.

               The kiss starts gentle. Vexx is tentative, but she is done with being tentative.  Adonia wraps her arms around his neck and parts her lips with a sigh, inventing him to deepen the kiss, inviting him to take her breath away. With a groan he pulls her body flush against him. One palm is firm on her lower back keeping her pressed against him while the other hand roams over the bare skin of her waist.  

               She feels dizzy like she forgot to spot. She is already spinning; it’s too late now. Perhaps she should be afraid, but with his arms firm around her Adonia feels safe. He will not let her fall. Her Vexx would never let anything happen to her.

               He walks them backward until she feels the edge of her bed pressing against the edge of her legs.

               “Are you sure?” he asks as he breaks the kiss his eyes searching hers.

                “yes. I’m sure,” she responds. And she is. She wants this; she wants him. She wants to feel his body against hers and lose herself in his arms.

               His next kiss is hungry. Hungrier than any of the stolen kisses they have ever shared. He pushes her back onto the mattress and then he is hovering over her, his hands skimming along her waist gripping her thigh, pulling them closer together. His lips leave hers to kiss down her neck. Trailing over the thin gill scars. Her hands knot in his red hair.

               It’s as if he is everywhere. She feels consumed by him; His name leaves her lips in a soft moan. Her heart is swelling, overflowing, overcome with love. She loves him.  

               “I lo-“ she begins as their eyes meet, but something she sees there makes her pause. Where only a moment ago there was nothing but desire in his eyes something else clouds his expression. He leans forward to press his forehead against hers.

               “Addie,” he whispers before kissing her. This kiss is soft, a gentle press of their lips against each other. The heat that was there only a moment ago is gone, replaced by something stiff and distant.

               “Adonia,” he says as he pushes himself off the bed and into a standing position. A chill runs through her as the cool night air fills the space he had just occupied.

               “It’s late, you should get some rest Princess,” his voice isn’t cold per say, but formal. The way he would address her in a room filled with other people.

               Adonia’s heart plummets and she feels a sinking pit of dread in her stomach. Had she pushed too far? Was this not something he wanted to?

               “Is something wrong?” she hates how pitiful her voice sounds. “Is this not what you want?”

               “No, it’s not that!” he answers stepping towards her as if he wishes to reassure, but pulling back before he touches her.  “It’s been a long night. I don’t want it to be one you regret, Princess.”

               There it is that Princess again. He hasn’t called her princess in private for months. He rarely even calls her Adonia anymore. She’s always Addie with him. She’s only Addie with him.  

               Words die on her lips as she takes in the firm set of his shoulders and the grim line of his lips. Lips which only minutes ago had been blazing a path over her skin. It doesn’t matter that she’s thought about this a hundred times. He’s made up his mind, and to admit that now would only leave her more embarrassed than she already is.

               He spares her any need to respond. She can feel the tears rising up in her eyes and she tries to blink them away. What had gone wrong?

               “Goodnight,” he says before slipping out her door.

tagging: @alavidzes @pearlsandsteel and @roses-and-roo

[kayteewritessteve]

Soon Enough - 2/2

Description: It’s been a full year since Steve’s welcome ‘home’ party, and he finds himself surrounded by friends in a far too loud club. But unbeknownst to him, his teammates aren’t the only ones at the club that night, a sweet voice and friendly smile may also be there too.

Masterlist HERE. Part 1 - Be Alright HERE.

Word Count: 7,600 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bar Owner!Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Curse words. Smidgen of angst and smut, if you squint. The slight descriptions of smut are enough to make be label this 18+, though with that said, it’s only vague descriptions so don’t get your hopes up.

Requested: not requested, this is just the second half of Be Alright which is for @mysterioh ‘s 1k follower prompt challenge. This entry is sooo dang late, but the sentiments are stil there. CONGRATS ON 1K, LOVELY! You deserve the dang world, and I miss you, I hope your step back from the fandom is going well for you, and if your ever around, send me a PM, I’d looove to catch up and see how you are! Aaanywho, my prompt was: "I am desperately and completely in love with you." - St. Elmo's Fire (1985) - and it will be bolded in this story. Enjoy! ❤️

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Divider by writeyourmindaway

He glances around the packed club, from his place tucked safely away in the VIP lounge on an open upper floor. He has a view of almost the entire lower level, minus the part directly below the VIP level. Tony was throwing yet another ‘welcome home’ party, but this time for Nat and Clint. And this time it was in fact a welcome home party, and not a welcome back to their mental state.

It’s been just over a year since that party, at the beautiful bar owners pub, and he hasn’t been back there since, he hasn’t seen her once since that night. But that’s for the best, Steve needed to find himself, to build his own life the way he wanted it to be, before he could invite another person into it. You can’t offer yourself fully to someone, if you don’t even truly know who you are. Or what you, personally, want from your life.

He wanted to be established, have his own things going on, have set and met a few of his own personal goals, and have a better knowledge of himself that one truly needed before they could offer themselves to another. Before they could share themselves with someone else.

Where he is in his life now, after a year of just being Steve Rogers—the scrappy kid from Brooklyn, who occasionally took missions when he was needed, but mainly just lived his day to day life the way he truly wanted to—was exactly where he’d always wanted to be. He didn’t think about relationships, lovers or dating. He didn’t think about finding someone, or using them to help him build this new life. He didn’t want to rely on someone else to help him get what he truly wanted from this world. He just focused on himself, on what Steven Grant Rogers truly wanted. Truly needed. And it had worked out exactly as it should.

He was finally happy, truly happy with where his life was at this moment. He had been for months now. He’d found a new apartment that was exactly what he’d always wanted, and suited his needs perfectly. It was tucked away in the middle of Brooklyn, only a few streets over from where Steve had grown up. He’d gotten rid of almost everything he’d owned before, knowing he’d need and want a full reset. A completely fresh start, and nothing that reminded him of his old life, or of his last love. So he’d set out and bought all the new furniture and decor that he’d need, slowly over time, and he’d filled the apartment with the things that Steve wanted. Stuff that made it feel like his home to him.

After a few months of that, he decided it was finally time to get the final piece to the ‘Steve Rogers new life’ puzzle, a scrappy little mutt he’d met when he was volunteering at an animal shelter in Bronx. The dog was damn near skin and bones back then, he shook like a leaf in the wind when any human even glanced his way. The guy had clearly had a rough life, he’d recently been rescued, but was not adapting well in the 5 by 8 foot cell. Steve had never related more to an animal in his entire damn life, and knew instantly he had to do something for the little guy. Save him from that fate.

He was a Bullador, as one of the other volunteers had told him that day. A mix between an American Bulldog and a Labrador, but none of that meant anything to Steve. It was the look in the dogs eyes that told him he’d be adopting that dog by the end of the week. And that had been an entirely accurate thought at the time—though he’d actually ended up adopting him by the end of that day. But that’s neither here nor there.

So after that, Steve had brought the dog home, and to say he was skittish, was an understatement. The dog would flinch anytime Steve even moved a muscle, and Steve had a lot of muscles to move. It took weeks before the dog finally settled in, and just as long to get him back up to a proper body weight.

He had started to look so much better, his coat began to shine, his eyes were full of that sparkle again, and he was slowly warming up to Steve. Little by little, every passing day. Steve knew, back then, that it would just take time, that the dog just had to settle into the new dynamic, just as Steve was trying to do with his own life. They’d do it together, he figured, as a little team and side by side.

And it had worked, because one day a few months back, Steve was lounging on the couch, watching a baseball game with a useless beer in his hand, and the dog had come up, and gave him a look. Steve had patted the couch cushion beside him in invite, like he’d done time and time before, even with knowing the dog would just huff and end up laying on the floor by the couch, he still offered every time.

And luckily he did, as that time, on that random Thursday afternoon, the dog finally took his offered spot. And not just that, he’d hesitantly curled up against Steve's side and laid his head atop his thighs. And Steve had never been happier in his damn life, he’d spent the rest of that game stroking the dogs head lightly, and refusing to get up to grab another beer. Not like they did anything for him anyways, besides give him something to sip on. And his desperate need to not ruin the small bonding moment between him and his dog, kept him glued to his seat until he finally had to get up to start making dinner.

But to Steve’s utter happiness and surprise, that wasn’t a one time thing after that day. The dog began always joining him on the couch, snuggled up against his side, and from that random Thursday on, him and Rocky—as the shelter had named him—were damn near inseparable. Occasionally things got a little dodgy when the Jerk was around, Steve would say Bucky’s name and the dog would come running. Or vice versa, he’d call the dog and Bucky would reply. Steve would just chuckle each time and have a small thought to maybe change the dog's name after all.

However, one look at Rocky, and he’d know without a shadow of a doubt that changing the dogs name now, wouldn’t work. He was a Rocky, through and through, it suited him, so Steve would resolve that he’d just have to get better at enunciating their names. Yeah, that was all that was needed. But yet, he was never able to remember to do that. So the confusion continued, and became somewhat of a joke around the tower after the first time Tony witnessed the name mixup first hand. And then it just went from there.

Steve sighs softly, as his eyes glance around the too loud and too packed club, and all he wants right now is to be at home, on his couch with Rocky snuggled up against his side. He finishes off his beer, this one not spiked with mead, and then stands up. It’s the end of the evening for Steve, he’s reached his late night club limits and now he wants nothing more than to leave. To get home to the quiet and relaxing calm of his place, and hang with his best bud, Rocky.

He makes his way around the private VIP space, saying his goodbyes to his friends, and after a little whining from a few, and the obligatory digs at him being an ‘old man’, he heads down the stairs and onto the main level of the club. He makes his way through the mass of moving bodies, and just as he is about to reach the stairs that will lead him out of the club and up to street level, his eyes catch on a familiar figure and he halts his movements entirely.

It can’t be, he thinks. As he shifts slightly to get a better look at the woman in the corner, by the bar. And once he successfully has, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that it is her. The beautiful bar owner.

Before he can stop himself, again, his legs are once more taking him towards her at the bar. Except this time she isn’t behind it making the drinks, but instead she is standing on this side of the counter, nursing one of her own. And he only figured that because she isn’t actively drinking it at the moment, she is leaned up on the edge of the bar, her finger aimlessly circling the rim as her eyes watch the action. She looks deep in thought, and he hesitates, wondering if he should even approach her or not.

But his legs don’t stop fully, they won’t stop, they keep their course on a direct path to her. And as he nears, he realizes her long legs are on full display. He’d always seen her in jeans and a t-shirt, looking effortlessly beautiful and relaxed. But this is the first time he’s actually seen her in full form, seen your lovely legs exposed and on display, instead of hidden behind fabric and a bar. And he honestly can’t drag his eyes away from them, at least not at first, not until they slowly slide up upon realizing her legs would only be on full display right now because she is wearing a dress or a skirt or something—the details don’t really matter.

Or at least they didn’t until his eyes finally land on the article in question. A dress. And a fucking outstanding one at that. His breath hitches as his eyes rove over her smaller form, hugged perfectly in the tight fitting material. He knows he’s being a creep, but with the way that dress shows off every lovely bump and dip that makes up her, he can’t bring himself to really care about ogling.

He finally reaches the bar, and with a small deep breath in he tears his eyes away from her, and instead focuses on the male bartender as he leans against the bar directly beside her. But not close enough to actually touch her. The music isn’t as loud in this corner of the club, so he knows he won’t need to yell for her to hear him, and he thanks her choice in leaning spot for that small feat.

“You alright there?” He asks, no better words entering his mind, so he just goes with the first ones he’d thought to speak.

In his peripherals he sees her tense up then shift away slightly, most likely to tell the intrusive guy that just inserted himself into her space, to find someone else to bug. At least that was the vibes he was getting off her, but then a soft giggle meets his ears and he glances down at her. Instantly seeing that cheeky look he’d forgotten he liked so much, was back in full force.

And yes, he’d forgotten so many things about her, he realizes as his eyes take in her face for the first time in a year. Yes, he’s thought about her in passing a couple times over that time apart, but it was never more than a fleeting thought. A quick wonder as to how she was doing, how her pub was doing, but nothing more. Steve needed to focus on himself the entire last year, and not be distracted by thoughts of beautiful women, and happily ever afters.

As selfish as that may sound, that’s the way it had to be. Steve had to focus on only himself, and then only on himself and Rocky. No one else.

But now that he feels he’s finally found his own happiness, maybe he can explore the option of having someone else enter his fully built and well adjusted life. Have someone else join it, and help him to perfect it just that little bit more.

“I’ll be alright,” she replies, an adorable and sassy twinkle in her eye. “Soon enough.”

And he can’t help it, he laughs low and deep at the words. The chuckle earns him one of her brilliant smiles, and that little voice that’s always commented on her smile, in the back of his mind, is back once again. Informing him once more just how breathtaking she truly is when she smiles like that.

“I see you’ve found your way,” she comments softly, her words sounding so happy for him. For the fact he finally found the life, or at least the happiness, he always wanted, and was desperately searching for a year ago. And yeah, he might have found the first part of it, but not the second part; the next phase in the life he’d always dreamed of.

“For the most part,” he nods, “still a few more things I need to work on, but those take a little more time, and a lot more effort. I’ll get there one day though.”

“Well, I’m really happy to hear that, big guy,” she hums, her eyes going back to watch her finger aimlessly circle the rim of her glass once more. A pensive look on her face now, and he desperately wants to know why.

“Not a big drinker?”

“No, not really,” she laughs, the sound a little self-deprecating, “I know, shocker right? Girl owns a bar but doesn’t even drink. What are the odds.”

“I’m not the Captain anymore, but I still go on missions,” Steve shrugs. “Just because it’s your livelihood, doesn’t mean it has to be your life.”

She glances up at him, a little indignantly if he’s honest, but he doesn’t take offence. “Yeah, but that’s a little different though. You save the world, I just make drinks.”

“And I’m sure to some of your patrons, just making them a drink is saving their world.” He shifts a little, leaning his side on the bar to fully face her now. Taking the deeper place their conversation has drifted to a little more seriously now. “And I actually know that for a fact. That first night in your pub, I was so lost. I felt like my world was crumbling around me and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. Some superhero I am, huh?” He shakes his head, “can help save the world time and time again, but can’t even save my own damn self when I needed it the most.”

He locks eyes with her as he continues on, “and then you, you came out of nowhere and you asked me a question so simple, yet it was exactly what I needed. It’s as if you knew I needed someone to see me, really see me. And to just make sure I was alright.”

Keeping his eyes connected with hers so she will see the honesty within them, he shrugs again, “so yeah, maybe you do just make drinks. But you also offer a comfort to your patrons, you also notice them, and interact with them, and you care. You built an entire little world in that pub, that is so damn inviting and friendly, that it puts anyone who enters it, at ease, even if just for a moment or two. And that, that alone, can save someone's world. Someone who may truly need it, but just doesn’t know how to do it on their own.”

She holds his stare for a silent moment, before a soft smile takes over her lips and she drops her eyes back down to her drink. And even in the low light, Steve couldn’t miss the light dusting of pink filling her cheeks. He likes having that effect on her, he thinks, likes it a lot, actually.

“Thank you, Steve. I really needed to hear that today.” She glances around the bar for a few seconds before her eyes stay locked on something behind him for just a few more seconds, then she meets his eye. “Do you need to stick around? Would you maybe wanna get out of here, and go grab that coffee now?”

He nods, a small smile on the corners of his lips, “I’d like that.” He is just about to push off the bar top, when a thought enters his mind and he pauses, “your friends won’t mind if you leave?”

She pushes her drink away and stands up to face him now, softly shaking her head, “no, they know I’m not huge into clubbing. And probably think I already left.” She glances around the club once again before her eyes land on something and Steve turns to follow her line of sight, seeing a small group of women dancing together, surrounded by guys. They must be her friends, he thinks. “I was actually about to leave, right before you joined me.”

He turns back to her, and sees she is already looking at him now. “Well, then I’m glad I found you when I did,” he smiles and offers her his arm.

She takes it and he goes to lead her to the exit, but she diverts them to a desk sort of thing off to the side, noting that she needs to grab her coat. Once they have it, he leads her up the stairs and out onto the street, his head much happier without the constant buzz and boom of the club's music and patrons.

And just as they reach the sidewalk, she pulls him gently to the left, leading him just as she had in the club. “There is a 24 hour diner 2 blocks down,” she supplies as she glances up at him, “not the prettiest looking place, but they make a mean coffee.”

“Those are the best places,” he hums in approval and lets her lead them down the street by his arm, clutched lightly by her own.

They passed groups of friends laughing and singing, people standing on the curbs trying to flag down cabs, the odd person walking alone with headphones in, ignoring the world around them. And all while her arm is still tucked securely around his, and it feels right, as cliché as that sounds in Steve’s head. It feels like they’ve done this many times before and the ease at which they’ve settled into each other is foreign to Steve. With his ex, things always felt a little forced, a little awkward, and he thought that was just how dating in this day and age was. But he is quickly realizing that’s not the case. That things could be so, so much easier and flow so much more smoothly.

He glances down at her, on his left so he is closer to the street and cars, and sees her staring into the shop windows as they walk by. Looking at the clothes, the electronics and the displays as they slowly move passed. She looks so at ease, so relaxed and comfortable, and it hits him that she is finding this just as simple as he is. She has settled into their close proximity and connection the same as he has. And he can’t help it, he smiles at that thought.

“How’s the pub?” He abruptly asks a little too loudly, as the thought enters his mind, and he almost chuckles at himself. The night may be going well, progressing smoothly and all, but Steve very much is still not that smooth for the most part. But that’s less to do with their connection and more to do with just the newness of the whole situation. Though, if he really thinks about it, he assumes he’ll always have those small awkward Steve moments, no matter how close they may one day become. This is him we’re talking about, after all.

“It’s good, same as always.” She glances up at him, a cheeky smile tugging up her lips just a little, as if she can hear his thoughts and is wholeheartedly agreeing with them. “We actually had a small bachelor party there last week, that was a rather funny night.” She laughs, shaking her head fondly, most likely at the memory of that night. “I never realized just how hilarious and rambunctious, yet destructive, a small group of college best friends could truly be. Now I know.” She laughs once more and he barely notices that he’s involuntarily smiling down at her again. This seems to be a regular reaction that she invokes from him, and he’s honestly not about to complain about that.

“Yeah?” He asks through a small chuckle, “hopefully they didn’t damage too much?”

“No, just a few glasses by mistake.” She snorts trying to suppress a laugh, “and my head bartenders eardrums, or so he claimed, but that’s about it.”

Steve raises an eyebrow in question, “His eardrums?”

She clearly can’t hold it in anymore as she burst out laughing, “yeah, they insisted on providing the musical entertainment for everyone else in the bar that night. Though, they just couldn’t seem to get the keys quite right.”

Steve laughs with her, he just can’t help it, “Screeching cats?”

“More like nails on a chalkboard,” she playfully cringes as she laughs some more, “but they really gave it their all and had a blast doing it, so I guess that’s what truly matters.” She pulls him to a stop and he glances up, seeing Donna’s Place in cursive on the glass door they are now in front of, “here we are.”

Steve moves fast, grabbing the handle and pulling the door open for her, receiving another beautiful smile and a soft ‘thanks’ as she enters the establishment before him. An older woman behind the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs, glances up at them and offers a polite smile, “take a seat wherever you’d like.”

They nod, and move to a corner table right in front of the windows, Steve helps her from her jacket before removing his own and hanging them on the hooks at the end of the booth seats.

And once he is seated across from her, he can't stop himself from wanting to know everything about this beautiful creature. Her hopes, her dreams, her ambitions. He wants to know about her childhood, her hobbies, the things that make up who she is. How she acquired her pub, what her family is like, what her favourite food, colour and movies are.

He wants to know it all, he needs to know every part of her. And as the night goes on, he learns the answers to a few of his questions, but it’s not enough. He wants all of her. Every last part.

They eat their meals between their lively conversation, and then he walks her home, where they exchange numbers and agree upon the day for their forst actual date, before she leans up on her toes and kisses his cheek. And Steve melts right then and there, and he stays melted the whole way home. Even as he settles into his bed that night, Rocky curled up beside him, he’s still melted. And he lnows right then that he’ll definitely be alright, soon enough. At least so long as he has any say in it, and so long as she is in his life.

He slowly trudges his way up the stairs to the two bedroom apartment that he now shares with Y/N. They’d dated for 6 months before deciding to move in together, choosing to find a new place all together, one they could both share, and that was also a little closer to her pub. A lot of people questioned Steve about why they had decided to move in together so fast, why they weren’t waiting to get to know each other a little better first, and honestly, the only answer he could give them was ‘when you know, you just know.’ And he’d realized pretty early on that she was the one, the exact person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. So, why wait? Why prolong the inevitable?

Plus, things moved rather quickly back in his day, you met a gal and then a few months later, you were married. So this didn’t seem too fast for Steve at all, it honestly felt like they were taking too long, in his mind. If relationship standards weren’t so different now, he’d probably have already asked her to marry him, cause again, why wait? But he held off for a while, as they’d now been living together for 9 months, and there was also just one major thing holding him back.

How would she handle him being away for long missions?

That was the golden question. His ex hadn’t been a fan of him going away for work in any capacity, but especially when he’d be gone for weeks on end with no outside communication available. They’d fought so often over that exact topic, almost every time he told her of an upcoming mission, and then again once he’d return. He hadn’t noticed till they’d broken up that they really did fight more than they didn’t, and he can’t understand why he didn’t notice that at the time. He’d clearly been living in rose coloured goggles, and if he’s honest, he hadn’t even realized this when they’d broken up. It actually didn’t become truly apparent to him until his relationship with Y/N, until he was with someone who didn’t guilt him over his job. Who didn’t get mad about him taking missions. Who didn’t pout, or stomp, or complain about him having a rather intense job. Someone who was actually excited for his returns, someone who actually jumped for joy when he’d walk through the front door after being gone for a week or so.

But even with that said, he still had his reservations about this all. It had become second nature to fear longer missions, and the homecoming reception that would follow them. Nat had called his ex’s behaviour toxic and selfish on more than one occasion—she’d also used a few other choice words that he didn’t feel like repeating—be it during their many heart to hearts while away, or their random deep conversations while home. Usually whenever Steve would confide in her about his troubles and issues in life and love. But at the time, he was too stubborn to listen, or maybe just too afraid of what those words truly meant, of the ramifications of letting those damning thoughts worm into his head and fester there.

He knew Y/N was different, truly he did, but when you live one reality for so long, when you allow yourself to be pushed into this emotional mold and forced to believe that is just the norm, pulling yourself out of that mold is harder than one may think. They’ve been together for over a year now, and he’d yet to go away for longer than two weeks, and even missions that long were few and far between. He found himself declining all the longer missions, just due to his irrational fear. Just due to not wanting to burst the happy little bubble he’d found himself in recently.

It was foolish, he knows, but yet, here he is walking up these stairs at the slowest pace he can possibly go. He has a random thought that this pace has to be some sort of world record. Slowest ascent of an apartment staircase in history. It’s not that he didn’t miss her—God, did he miss her—it’s more that he is nervous. His mind is telling him to prepare for the incoming fury. For the fight that it thinks is going to greet him the moment he steps through their door. Even if he knows she’s different, even if he tells himself she isn’t his ex, something in him is still stalling. Still urging and forcing him to drag his feet, he can’t explain it, it’s almost compulsory, maybe even some weird version of auto pilot. He can’t really be sure. But what he does know is, he’s so fucking nervous.

He finally reaches their floor and one glance down the hall shows their door on the left. He makes his way towards it, and once he reaches it, his hand hovers over the doorknob for a moment. Allowing him a second to clench his eyes shut and take a deep stablizing breath in, before he opens the door and steps inside. His ears are instantly met with soft music playing from the living room sound system, and the dim atmosphere that comes with only having a couple lights on in the winter evenings.

He gently puts his shield down by the door and removes his shoes, trying for the life of him to not make a single sound. Still trying to prolong the inevitable, it would seem. But just as he gets his shoes off, he hears a soft humming that matches the music get a little louder, and he glances up to see her, in all her lovely glory as she walks out of their laundry room with a laundry basket propped securely on her hip.

And he is struck for the millionth time with just how damn breathtaking she truly is, even in her too big sweats and one of his old t-shirts. Her hair is up in a messy bun and there isn’t a drop of makeup anywhere on her skin. It’s just her, entirely her, and his heart skips a beat at that simple fact alone. A hesitant smile pulls up the corners of his mouth—God, he really did miss her. But damn, if he isn’t nervous for how she’ll react to his surprise early return. He wasn’t due home for another week, and it was a no outside communications mission, so he had no way to give her a heads up of his impending arrival.

Okay, that’s a lie, he could have called her once he boarded the Quinjet. He could have texted her at any point during the 7 hour flight home. But he just hadn’t. Partially due to wanting to surprise her, and partially due to everything he was thinking on his way up the stairs.

Ugh, his mind is a mess, a tug-o-war between yearning to see her and hold her in his arms again, and fearing her reaction to him walking through the door after 6 long weeks away.

But before he can give this all another second of thought, Rocky comes strolling out of the laundry room hot on her heels, and the second the dog is fully out, he glances up and notices Steve. Then he barks incessantly as he bounds over towards the—now even more—frozen super soldier, tail wagging and tongue lolling out to the side.

Steve didn’t even have a chance to utter a damn word, nor prepare himself at all, before the 80 pound mutt lunged at him. The dog's vocal reaction to the large mans return clearly caught Y/N off guard, as she damn near chucked the laundry basket across the hall, clothes flying everywhere as she whips around to see why the dog was freaking out all of a sudden. Her eyes land on Steve, holding the front paws of their dog as he bounces on his hind legs in any attempt to drench Steve’s face with his kisses.

It would probably have been a hilarious scene if anyone else were to witness it, he thinks just before his eyes lock with her now comically widened ones.

“Big guy?” She mutters breathlessly, before the switch flips and she is now the one bounding directly at him. He barely has a chance to release Rocky’s paws before she is lunging onto him next, and the sudden impact nearly knocks the wind out of Steve’s lungs, but he manages to catch her just in time. Her legs wrap around his waist and her hands cup both his cheeks as she begins to assault his entire face with kisses.

He is again rendered frozen but now also speechless at this quick attack, he doesn’t know what he was expecting, or maybe he does, but this wasn’t it.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you,” she repeats softly, over and over again between her never-ending smooches, and finally his mind catches up, and his arms tighten just a little more around her as he walks into the kitchen, on the left of them, and gently places her on the counter top. Rocky trailing at his heels, still trying to figure out the best way to join in on the excited homecoming action.

Steve sighs contentedly, releasing all his earlier tension and nerves, as her assault finally begins to slow down. And once it does, she pulls back, still holding his face between her hands and just stares at him. A silent moment passes as she takes in his faces every feature and detail, then she locks eyes with him and that glorious smile takes over her entire face. Yanna, the one that the little voice always told him was just so damn beautiful. Yeah, that smile, and yes, that little voice is back once again.

“Hi,” she finally whispers.

He smiles at that, “Hi.”

“I missed you,” she adds quickly, as if that wasn’t already abundantly apparent from the last couple minutes of her loving assault.

“I see this,” and he can’t help it, he chuckles as his hand rises up to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. “But I missed you too.”

Her eyes drop down, inspecting his whole form now, as if to ensure he is truly okay, that he isn’t harmed or hurt, that he’s really here and in the flesh. And Steve just lets her have her moment. He stands there and let’s her inspect him from head to toe, if only to put her mind at ease that he is in fact okay, that he’s safe, he’s home.

Home. A four letter word that never meant so much to Steve before. This is home. She is home.

And instantly he wants to punch himself in the damn face. How could he doubt her? How could he fear his homecoming with her, she isn’t like his ex. She isn’t like anyone else. She is just so perfectly her, and she would never be mad at him for working, for going out there and protecting the weaker ones. For going out there and making sure the world gets to live in peace, or at least as much as it’s capable of having.

She truly is the one, and he’s an idiot for ever fearing otherwise. For even thinking for a moment that she may not be. And with that last thought, he knows exactly what needs to happen next. He knows exactly what he has to do now, he has to make her his, for life.

He steps away from between her legs, and she playfully pouts at the distance he’s now putting between them.

“Hey,” her lip juts out just a little more, muffling the word a bit, and it makes Steve chuckle. And that reaction from him causes her to cross her arms over her chest, “Where do you think you’re going? You just got home, mister, get back here and let me love you!”

He grins at her, and he knows it’s cheeky as hell, “hold on, I just gotta grab something real quick.”

Her brows furrow, pout still very much in place and arms still crossed, she stares at him for a few seconds before her arms relax and fall at her side, then she nods, “okay, but be quick, I’m not done with you yet.”

He nods then quickly makes his way to their second bedroom that is actually his office. He makes fast work of getting over to his desk, using a key he unlocks the top drawer and grabs the item he needs so he can head right back to the kitchen. Not wanting to be away from her for a moment longer, but the second he has it in his hands, he fucking panics.

He starts to freak the hell out again, weeks he’s had this thing. Weeks he’s taken it out, and held it in his hands. Weeks he’s hummed over when would be the right time to use it. To give it to her. He’d wanted it to be perfect, to be the exact right moment. This was not how he’d planned it, nor how he’d envisioned it going down. But like he always said, when you know, you just know.

With that he takes a deep breath, tucks it into his pocket and then heads back out to the kitchen, finding her exactly where he’d left her. Rocky standing by her dangling legs as she pet the spot between his ears. Steve halted at the entrance of the kitchen, just wanting to commit this moment to memory so he could keep it forever.

Rocky and her were his life now, and when he’d first introduced them, many many months ago, he was worried how Rocky would take to her. He was nervous that Rocky wouldn’t like her at first or would take forever to warm up to her too. But his fears were for nothing. No, they hadn’t been instant best friends, Rocky had taken a couple weeks to get used to her being around. He’d been timid and shy in the beginning, refusing to get more than 5 feet from her.

But after those first few weeks, Steve had to go away for a mission and instead of setting Rocky up with one of his teammates while he was gone, Y/N offered to dog sit for him. And when Steve got home a week and a half later, Y/N and Rocky were the best of friends. He was even under the impression Rocky liked Y/N more than him after that day. But he can’t really judge the dog for that mindset, Steve likes Y/N just as much. She is his favourite human now too. So he gets it, God, does he get it.

He steps into the kitchen, and she glances over at him while still petting Rocky, but then the furrow of her brows is back as she notices his empty hands.

“I thought you said,” she starts to softly say, but Steve had moved quickly, back to in between her thighs. And his large hands have landed on the tops of them, just below her hips and the firm squeeze he gave them had stopped her words in their tracks.

“I did,” he answers quietly as he gives her a chaste kiss, both because he needed one to calm his racing heart, and because he just wanted one so damn bad. His hands drag up to her waist, relishing the feel of her beneath his palms—though he’d like it more if there were no clothes in the way at all, but he’ll take what he can get right now. It’s been 6 long weeks, the guy is dying to show her just how much he missed her. Show all of her, just how much he did.

But he has something to do first. Something very, very important and that’s been a long time coming.

He lifts her gently off the counter and places her on her feet in front of him, not moving back a single step though. Yes, he may be crowding her, but from the twinkle in her eyes now, she doesn’t mind one damn bit.

He has no big speech planned, no sweet words or affirmations to voice. No lovely memories to bring up and relive. He has no dinner planned, and no gift to go along with this, be it flowers, chocolates, or a card. He has nothing but himself, his heart, and his soul to give her in this moment.

He looks deep into her eyes, and then the words just sorta spill out, in a classic awkward Steve fashion, all mumbled and quiet.

“Marry me?”

Her eyes widen again, as she just stares up at him for a moment and he realizes he forgot the best part. He fumbles around till he pulls the little black, velvet box from his picket and now he does take a step back. Opening it to show her the modest ring he’d picked out, could he have afforded a huge ring with lots of bling, as Sam calls it? Yes, yes he could have. But then had he see this ring and instantly thought of her? Yes, yes he had. He knew it would be perfect for her, it would suit her better than any of the other hundreds he’d looked at over the 3 weeks he’d searched for the perfect one.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Y/N. I want to call you my wife till the day I die.”

And that does it, that knocks her back to earth and instantly tears well up in her eyes as she once again lunges at him and wraps her arms and legs around him. “I want that too,” she quickly affirms.

“You want to call me your wife till the day you die too?” He asks, like the cheeky bugger he is.

And she abruptly laughs at that, the sound watery and lumpy due to her emotions and tears, “yes, exactly that!”

Then the kiss attack is back in full force, and Steve can’t help the deep chuckle that vibrates out of him. “So I take it that’s a yes, then?”

“Mhmm,” she hums happily, still assaulting his face with her love. “Of course it’s a yes,” she pulls back and lightly pinches his cheek as she talks in that silly baby voice that she always uses with Rocky, “like anyone could turn down this handsome face.”

He glances down at Rocky, still sitting beside them and sees the dog looking up at her, head tilted to the side as if he doesn’t quite understand why she is using that voice on Steve either. That makes him snort and shake his head before his eyes meet hers once again and he raises a brow at her playful tone with him.

She laughs, kissing him once more while mumbling, “sorry, I get a little weird when i’m this excited. My filter sorta goes out the window.”

He laughs with her, then the kiss takes a deeper turn and Steve has no complaints about that. Not a single one.

With her still wrapped around him, he places her, and the ring, on the counter before he reluctantly pulls away. He mumbles a, “one second,” before he goes to put Rocky in their room, where the dog's giant bed is.

Once the dog is in bed and laying down, Steve promises to be right back to snuggle him before he shuts the door then quickly makes his way back to her, finding his rightful spot between her thighs and instantly seeing that she’s put the ring on now. And that sight alone, his ring on her finger, causes something to snap in Steve and before he can blink, he’s dived right back in.

“I love you so damn much,” she mumbles softly between heated kisses and scorching touches.

“And I am desperately and completely in love with you,” he mumbles back before all speech ceases, minus their soft moans and deep groans.

Clothes are lost in haste, yanked from their bodies and thrown quickly but thoughtlessly around the room. Hands grab, pull and smooth over supple, heated skin, as lips claim and mark any place they can find, any spot they can reach.

God, he missed her. Her and this, the connection they’ve always shared, the one they’ve nurtured and grown together. This isn’t the homecoming he imagined, but damn if the thought of volunteering first for the next long mission doesn’t pop into his head in this moment. Because if this is the exact reunion he gets every time, after being away for a while, the time apart would be entirely worth it.

But all his thoughts cease once he slides home, once he is fully settled inside her, deep and imposing, a perfect fit. The soft sighs and whimpers coming from her are like a drug to him, the feeling of her tightening around him, of her walls quivering from time to time is intoxicating to him.

As he begins to move, starts to climb, all he can do is stare at her, at the beautiful woman before him. His hands push her loose hair out of her face, so he can see her better, and then they just stare and climb together.

When she reaches her first peak and abruptly falls over it, the glorious sensation of her inner walls milking him nearly drags him over with her. But he clenches his teeth and fights through it, not ready for this to be over just yet. He wants more, he needs more.

He watches as her eyes snap shut, he sees as her lips part and a delicious moan of his name falls from them. He watches it all unfold before him, this beautiful creature he gets to call his own. This lovely person who showed Steve what real love is, what a solid and stable relationship entailed.

She’s helped him more than she will ever know, even long before they ever dated, moved in together or, now, got engaged. Long before he even knew her name, she’d helped show him the way, she was the light in his dark time. The sweet voice and friendly smile that helped him realize he could begin again, and that he definitely should. She helped him realize that he’d be alright, soon enough, he all he needed was a little patience, elbow grease, and time.

And just like that, it hits him, he’s finally reached his Soon Enough.

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

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder​ @wordlesscaptain​ @captain-hammer-of-asgard​ @starstucknature @viarogers​ @storyscaped​ @kaithezaftig​ @the-kinkiest-goblin​ @hysterically-original​ @badassbeckettswan​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @zlixlle​ @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms​ @pretendingandpreposterous​ @frozen-phoenix17​ @emotionallysalty​ @saturngirlz​ @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit​ @ivannagotthebeat​ @bohemian-barbie​ @marvelous-capsicle​ @steverogersxreader​ @cjhorseback​ @jasminecalia​ @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak​ @capricornprince118​ @just-ladyme​ @pinkleopardss​ @drayshadow​ @sister-of-stars​ @wiserebelpartypie​ @dark-night-sky-99​ @patzammit​ @cs-please​ @troublermalik​ @bratstopmom​ @anika-ann​ @wxstedhexrt​ @rynabarnesrogers​ @ab-baybay​ @scentedsongrebel​ @captainchrisstan​ @kelbabyblue​ @fckdeusername​ @murdermornings​ @dreamlesswonder86​ @intricate-melody​ @fiannaofficial @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​ @nomadics-stuff​ @hufflepuffvs​ @kaytizzle​ @superharriet​ @calwitch​

[nanaminsonyfans]

Between Worlds; Chapter Three

Previous, Next Masterlist

gif is not mine

A/N: Here’s chapter three! Please enjoy it!

!!TW!! Swearing, mentions of blood and burns

“By the way, where are we going?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Zuko was laying in his bed, an arm tucked behind his head. He let out a sigh, moving to stare up at the ceiling. Just thinking about the Avatar made his blood boil. Why was she doing this to him? He gripped the bedsheets growling slightly under his breath. Why did thinking of her make him feel weird? Zuko’s heart always started racing when he thought about her. He assumed it was because of the hatred he felt for her, maybe it was. Or maybe, just maybe, he felt other emotions as well. No, it couldn’t be. Especially not for her. 

You had been flying all day from the Air Temple. It must’ve been at least six hours, the sun was already setting. “Where are we going?” Sokka whined, glancing over at you as he stretched with Momo laying on his stomach. “Somewhere with water around it.” You answered with a sly smirk playing at your lips. “Haha, very funny, Y/N.” He huffed, glaring at you. You rolled your eyes and glanced down, your eyes landing on a medium-sized island. “I found where we’re going.” You sang happily, guiding Appa to said island. 

“Look Sokka! There’s a stream,” You pointed to a small, crystal clear waterfall streaming water into a river-like stream, with plenty of coy. “Go fish for your food.” You stuck your tongue out at him as you spoke with an attitude laced in your voice. Sokka retaliated with the same notion before grabbing his fishing rod, grumbling as he plopped down on the edge of the cool river. You began to help Katara with her things. “Thank you, Y/N.” “No problem, it’s the least I can do after almost...hurting you guys.” You mumbled the last part, remembering yesterday. “It’s okay, Y/N. I understand. Plus, you don’t seem able to control your Avatar state yet.” She sympathized with you, though you were unsure why. The two of you were nothing alike. In fact, you were from entirely different worlds. You sighed and gave her a thankful smile. “Thank you, Katar-” 

“Woah!” Sokka screamed, both of you turned your heads to the direction. The boy was hanging on a rope, by his foot. “You three have a lot of explaining to do.” A commanding woman’s voice spoke. About ten or more girls jumped down from the trees and came out of bushes. You took a defensive stance, putting Katara behind you. Then it struck you, these were the Kyoshi Warriors! 

Sokka cut himself loose, although he had a blindfold on. He pulled it up and saw the women. “Who are you? Where are the men that ambushed us?” “There were no men. If you don’t answer our questions we are throwing you to the elephant coy.” One of the women spoke while narrowing her eyes at Sokka. “No way we were ambushed by a bunch of girls!” Sokka scoffed glaring at the women in their dresses and makeup. One of the girls grabbed Sokka by his shirt collar. “I guess Unagi will have a delicious dinner then.” She growled at him. “No wait! He’s my brother, he’s just an idiot sometimes.” Katara explained running to her brother’s aid. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the pair. “Look, I’m the Avatar-” “Impossible! The Avatar disappeared a hundred years ago!” A woman, most likely the leader, interrupted. “Well yeah. That’s me.” You stated matter-of-factly. “Feed the imposter to Unagi!” She commanded. “What?! No! I-” The women already stalked over to you. 

“Y/N, do an airbending trick!” Katara nervously yelled. You became flustered. How could you prove yourself? Your mind went blank, what the fuck would you do?! You gulped and searched your pockets for something, anything. Your hands grasped something cold and round, a marble. Your eyes lit up as you pulled it out. “Watch this.” You grinned concentrating on the silver marble. It lifted off the palm of your hand and started to spin. There were a few ‘oohs’ and ‘awes’ from the women. “You’re an airbender!” One of the girls said in amazement. “You are the Avatar.” The leader said breathlessly as she walked up to you.

“I am Suki, the leader.” The girl stated, holding her hand out for you to shake. “Hello Suki, I’m Y/N.” You shook her hand smiling sweetly at the woman. 

One the other side of the island a little girl ran up to her father, who was fishing. “Did you hear?” She asked in an excited tone. “Hear what?” He asked, putting his newly caught fish in a basket. “The Avatar is on Kyoshi!” The little girl said jumping up and down happily. “What?!” The fishermen asked in surprise. 

Word spread almost like wildfire, especially in the marketplace. The fishermen told a shopkeep, who told a customer, who was a Fire Nation servant - specifically Prince Zuko’s servant. He passed on the news of the Avatar’s most recent location. 

“The Avatar is on Kyoshi Island?!” Zuko yelled in a demanding tone while holding the servant by the collar. “Where did you hear this from?!” “Th-The shopkeep! She said she heard it from the fishermen from Kyoshi!” He sputtered out, turning pale in fear at his anger. Zuko scoffed and shoved the man to the ground, stalking over to his uncle. His uncle was sipping his tea. “Uncle, ready the rhinos. She is not getting away from me again!” He hissed walking out of the room. 

Kyoshi Island was utterly beautiful to you, breathtaking even. You took in a deep inhale of the fresh air, the scent of pine greeting your nose. You sighed happily and turned around to the feast the Kyoshi villagers prepared for you. They were celebrating the arrival of the Avatar. The Kyoshi statue got a new coat of paint too, just in your honor. This was supposed to feel good right? You were being treated like a celebrity, but this wasn’t meant for you. It felt so wrong. But you couldn’t seem ungrateful. You weren’t! In fact, you appreciated the hospitality of these people that were hidden from the world. 

Momo sat perched upon your shoulder as you began to eat. You handed him a few pieces of bread and berries, in which you got a happy chirp in response. You noticed Katara wasn’t eating, so you nudged her gently. “Why aren’t you eating?” You asked softly, “Your brother seems to enjoy it.” You giggled softly gesturing to Sokka, who had his face stuffed with all types of food. Katara giggled as well rolling her eyes. “I don’t know...I’m not very hungry.” She shrugged and began to pick at her bowl of rice with a pair of chopsticks. 

The feast spread was almost as beautiful as the land. The table was spread several feet long, three other tables lined up in sections in front of it. Despite the small island, it had a fairly big population. Each table had the same spread. A roasted pig, two roasted chickens, three big bowls of mashed potatoes and corn, a bowl of white rice, noodles, and three roasted salmon and coy. It all looked so delicious, but you stuck with the vegetable-based foods. Momo helped a few little girls pick berries for the two of you, and that made you very happy. People who didn’t even know you, welcomed you with open arms. It warmed your heart. 

After the feast, the sun started to set, beginning the party. Drums, flutes, and clapping to the beat. Everyone was so happy with the Avatar arriving. Their savior. You spent the night dancing with the children, showing them some air-based dance moves. Then everything started to wind down, people going back to their homes to sleep. You, Sokka, and Katara were given a small and empty home, and it was since. You held Appa by the reins as you led him to a forestry area behind the home. “Goodnight, big guy.” You whispered, kissing the furry creature before heading inside. 

Sokka had already passed out from a food coma, so it was just you and Katara awake. Katara was currently making her small cot. “Hey, Katara?” You asked softly while you laid on your own cot. She responded with a small hum as she finally finished fluffing her pillows. You chewed on the inside of your cheek and let out a sigh as you stared at the ceiling. “I don’t...I don’t think I deserve any of this. The praise, parties...people acting like I am a celebrity.” You spoke, your voice soft, not wanting to wake up Sokka and Momo. Katara laid on her cot and stared at the ceiling as well. 

“I understand this must be new to you. You were frozen for a hundred years. You’re still adjusting.” Katara explained, her gentle voice soothing you. “I know you must be overwhelmed.” You sighed and turned so your back was facing Katara, but you were facing sleeping Sokka. “I just feel like...I don’t belong here.” You whispered, eyes slowly closing shut as you fell into the realm of unconsciousness. 

Your body felt like it was floating. You looked around seeing stars and a small glowing path...weird. You took a deep breath and took a step forward. Your footprint glowed softly, illuminating your bath. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t belong here.” It was Aang’s voice again. You looked around for the source, then finally saw him walking towards you, his steps glowing as well. You gulped, “I-I know I don’t...But I don’t know how to get home-” “You stole MY destiny!” He yelled stepping closer, you two were three feet apart. “I know!” You yelled back, now getting irritated at the 12-year-old. “Then go home!” You clenched your fist closing your eyes tightly. There was the sound of an alarm clock going off. The sound got closer and closer. Your head started to pound as it got closer. “Just shut up!” You screamed. 

The birds were singing and chirping outside as your eyes shot open. You were in a cold sweat, your chest rising and falling at an erratic rate. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on the lemur sitting on your chest. You screamed and fell off of the bed with a thud. When your body hit the floor you groaned, rubbing your temples. Footsteps entered the house, multiple in fact. “Y/N! Are you okay?!” It was Sokka. You looked up, squinting. It turned out, however, to not be Sokka. The Kyoshi Warriors stood above you. You looked around, and then saw him. Sokka was decked out in a Kyoshi uniform and their customary makeup. “Oh my, Sokka!” You started to laugh. It was a good change; you needed a laugh after that dream. “Yeah yeah, I’m a Warrior now.” Sokka grumbled, helping you up to your feet. You yawned and stretched once you were on your feet. “How long was I asleep? I don’t remember Katara having an older sister.” You teased but your fun was cut short. 

“Come out Avatar!” Shit. They found you. You gulped and headed towards the door, but Sokka blocked you. “No, Y/N. We can’t let you get captured again. You barely survived last time.” Suki smiled proudly, “We have been training for this day. Don’t worry, Avatar.” She smiled and led everyone out. No way in hell were you endangering the people who welcomed you so warmly. These people have stayed away from the Fire Nation for a hundred years, you weren’t about to ruin that streak. 

You grabbed your staff and looked outside the window. The Kyoshi were up in the trees, waiting for their chance. Zuko and his soldiers started to drag people out of their homes. You gripped your staff and walked out. “I’m right here.” You glared at the Prince, your eyes filled with anger. Zuko turned to you with a snarl and death glare. “Well here’s the Avatar. You won’t get away this time.” He hissed and started to charge at you. “I won’t let you terrorize innocent people.” You yelled, twirling your staff and sending a gust of wind at Zuko.

Zuko didn’t lose his stance. Huh. Impressive. You smirked at him, which only irritated him more. He let out a battle cry and sent blasts of fire your way. You thought you could dodge it in time. You were half right. One of the blasts lit the fabric near your right hip aflame. You hissed in pain as the fabric burned away, and the fire burned your skin. “Son of a bitch.” You hissed and glared at Zuko. Anger filled your body and your eyes. Your e/c orbs are filled with anger. “Fuck you.” You hissed and used your staff to knock Zuko off of his feet. 

Zuko grunted as he hit the floor. You glared at him and got up, using your cane as a staff of some sort. He grabbed your ankle causing you to fall onto the coarse dirt. Your chin hit the sharp end of a few rocks, cutting it open slightly. You saw the red liquid drip onto the dirt. You let out a scream of frustration and kicked at Zuko’s head. “You asshole!” You yelled as Katara came to your aid, Sokka already on Appa with Momo.

“Hurry and get on!” Sokka yelled as the bison flew down. Katara helped you onto the creature. Zuko glared as Appa flew away. “Everyone back on the ship! Do not lose sight of them!” He ordered and stalked back to the ship, wiping his now bleeding nose. 

“This isn’t over, Avatar.” 

A/N: A special thanks to @imagine-yourself-happy​ for editing this chapter for me! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Taglist;

@imagine-yourself-happy @lilmou5ie @toobsessedsstuff @bluecrystals01 @foolishgang @alrightberries @cheyenne-dunn-universe @givemetundies @anxietyriddledcollegekid @gra-hamcrackers @marionette-ghoulette @miracle-rat @bangtanboyswriting123 @wattpadwaterandfire @hopelessly-hopeful-hope @alexander-the-great32105 @panini-the-bird-killer @gabsanc

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Snowdrifts ch.2 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Undertale brothers in the house! Blue is gonna have to bring out more chairs.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

From the first moment his brother chose to lead him through the filthy hallways of the old lab to show him an innocent child, Edge felt as if he weren’t quite aligned with the real world any longer. His memory of taking the baby into his arms and summoning that first attack held almost a dreamlike quality, as did their desperate flight from Hotland to the outskirts of Snowdin. It left him in the unfamiliar position of a memory he both didn’t want to remember but also never wanted to forget.

In a single moment, his world was twisted and turned upside down, so he supposed in that way it made sense that they ended up in Underswap.

It was also amusing, in its way, that the first reaction of all of their alternates was so similar to his own: pure doubt of what they were seeing, and the chaos of the Undertale brothers meeting Snow was another memory that wouldn’t be soon forgotten.

Before he could even agree that yes, their sight was not deceiving them, it was indeed a baby and a skeleton Monster baby at that, the door to the bedroom upstairs opened. Stretch emerged in a loose-limbed shamble, still sleep drowsy and wearing only a sagging pair of boxer shorts.

He’d barely made it to the landing before Blue said with loud outrage, “Papy! Put some clothes on!! We have guests!”

Stretch all but screeched to a stop and looked down at himself, blinking owlishly as if trying to figure out exactly what part of his wardrobe was unacceptable for company. Edge could only hope that he didn’t choose the boxer shorts and tried to look as if he certainly wasn’t appreciative of the very lovely view of smooth, silky bones.

That was, until he noticed the way Red was smirking as he took his own gander at the scenery. Edge frowned, jabbing an elbow into his brother’s side as he hissed out, “Quit staring!”

Red only rubbed at his ribs unrepentantly. “hey, lil’ window shopping never hurt anyone.” That leer tore Edge between the urge to slap his brother upside the skull or to cover Snow’s little sockets to protect her from such a terrible sight.

“It’s going to hurt you right in the tailbone!”

“oh, so sorry bro, didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

“I don’t need to be the jealous type to not want to see you drooling on the floor!”

In the midst of their whispered argument, overshadowed by Blue’s shouts, Stretch stood frozen on the landing. He spared a horrified look at them in the living room and all the eye lights staring up at him, then back at himself and wealth of bare bone he was showing. Stretch didn’t say a word, only turned on his heel and went right back into the bedroom. When he emerged again, he was dressed from his socks to the hood pulled over his skull and Edge was again split in his emotions, both mourning the loss and righteously grateful that his brother lost the privilege, too.

In the meantime, Papyrus took possession of the baby with much the same awkward enthusiasm that Blue had, bouncing her lightly in his arms as he burbled happily, “What a precious, adorable child who was definitely not here the last time we came over! What’s her name?”

“It’s Snow,” Edge told him. It was only then that he remembered he hadn’t yet shared the name with his brother, who groaned loudly, slumping back on the sofa.

“snow? really, bro?” Red complained. “we’re surrounded by the stuff every day and now you want to add it to the roll call? don’t we even get to put it to a vote?”

“I’m trying to protect her from the evils of the world,” Edge told him stiffly, “a name chosen by you would likely qualify.”

The way his brother’s grin widened should have warned him, if warning was even necessary when it came to Red. “snow kiddin’, bro, here i am just chillin’, and you gotta snowball me like that? i coulda picked an ice name for the little flake—"

“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I won't hurt you in front of the baby.”

“Let it go, let it go,” Papyrus interrupted brightly. He held the baby up, dangling in his hands in a way that made Edge resist the urge to snatch her away. “It’s a perfect name for her, absolutely! Even if she occasionally gets ribbed about it.”

“yeah, it’s a great name,” Stretch agreed. Within the depths of his hood, his grin was cheekily wide. “if i do say snow myself. and i did.”

At that moment, Snow decided she’d had more than enough of being the center of attention or perhaps she simply had good taste when it came to horrible puns. She let out a loud wail, squirming in Papyrus’s hold as she reached for Edge. He gathered her into his arms, privately grateful to have at least one person on his side when it came to a dislike of awful humor.

Her cries cut through the general chaos, rendering normally loud skeletons fretfully silent and Edge stood, cuddling her close as he tried to coax her hiccoughing sobs to stop.

“someone’s had too much excitement,” Stretch said. He stood and went over to the pillows that had served as her nest and ended up haphazardly pushed aside to make way for the highchair. He rearranged them and patted a spot right in the middle. “bring her over here, she can have a laydown while we explain the sitch.”

Edge carried her over, patting her back as she whimpered and clung. “Perhaps I should take her upstairs, instead.”

“nah, sit with her,” Stretch said firmly, “she’ll settle down. better to train ‘em young to sleep through anything, useful skill.”

“Yes, you and my brother make use of it often.”

Despite his worries, Edge settled her into the pillows, following her down to sit next to her on the floor. He gently rubbing her sternum, paying no mind to the greenish bean stains on her pajamas, and very soon, the child calmed, falling asleep with an ease that would make several skeletons he could name envious.

He sighed, relieved, and turned around, startling to find everyone looking at him. Waiting, Edge realized; he had said he would explain and it seemed Red was more than willing to leave that task to him. Trust Red to stick to the more enjoyable parts of childcare and leave the difficult task of revising the birds and the bees to him. Or in this case, more like beakers and broken ethics.

This time, he kept the information to the barest details of finding her and taking her from the lab. It was not a story he cared to keep reliving.

“…and so we brought her here, to keep her safe,” Edge finished. Despite his cursory explanation, the entire time he’d been talking Blue and Papyrus sat in silence, their sockets huge. With every word, they’d crept forward as they listened until both of them were only inches away from him, still listening raptly.

“You save her,” Blue said, awed, “like a hero from a storybook!”

“Yes!” Papyrus agreed fervently, “A knight. Riding in on your steed—”

Red snorted, “that’s one i ain’t ever been called.”

“—saving the damsel from the evil villain!” Papyrus finished triumphantly. “If only I could have been there with you!”

“And me!” Blue added, starry-eyed, “the Magnificent Sans!”

“And the Great Papyrus!”

“Heroes!” The last was said in unison, both of them striking bold poses with hands on their hips right where they sat. Their glowing triumph was only diminished by sheepish guilt as the baby stirred uneasily at the noise.

“Heroes,” Edge murmured. He didn’t have the soul in him to disabuse them of their fantasy, even if he could somehow persuade them that there was nothing heroic about his so-called rescue, not in the slightest. He glanced back at the baby, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully. No, not heroic, only this small glimmer of goodness stolen from the depths of misfortune.

“so what are the odds of anyone popping through a portal to come looking for the little princess?”

They all turned to look at Sans, who was leaning against the sofa arm, his hands tucked into his pockets. He was the only one who’d made no attempt to hold the baby, Edge realized. Even now he kept back in that half-hidden way he had where one didn’t quite notice he was even missing until he spoke, his normal easygoing smile tightened into a near-grimace.

There was a question buried in there, but Edge wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up, entirely too busy deciding how to field the one he’d just been asked.

His brother chose that as his moment to finally speak up. “chances of that happenin’ ‘s at about zero, sansy. no new visitors are gonna stop by from our little slice of the universe.”

“you sure about that?” Sans said. His tone was light, almost teasing. The brief strobe of his eye light into a blur of blue/yellow, anything but.

“yep,” Red popped the ‘p’ loudly, “real fucking sure. now, how’s about we get to work on that movie before the abominable snow monster wakes up?”

Papyrus and Blue scrambled to their feet and headed for the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones that were really only just below a shout about popcorn and snacks and dashing deeds.

Edge stayed where he was next to the child and fought the urge to look at Sans. He could feel the weight of his gaze resting heavily on him, right up until his line of sight was broken by Stretch crouching down next to him.

“you want me to bring you some popcorn?” Stretch grinned ruefully, “figured you might want to sit next to the snowflake for this.”

“Yes, thank you,” Edge said, surprised. It was hardly necessary, he could certainly manage the two minutes required to go to the kitchen himself for a bowlful. He could, except for the fact that Sans’s question sent an uncomfortable trill crawling up his spine. Ridiculous, his brother was right, it was impossible for anyone to come from Underfell now, the machine was the only way, there was no other path.

Utterly ridiculous, and yet, Edge wanted to stay close to the baby all the same.

Stretch hadn’t yet move. “hey, edgelord,” Stretch leaned in, whispering right next to his audial canal. “i know you don’t think much of it, but i’m tellin’ you, they had the right of it, hero.”

“I’m not a hero,” Edge said, softly. He’d only done what any person whose soul wasn’t hardened to stone would, likely what his brother intended all along. It was only incidental that he’d been the one doing it, a combination of circumstance and luck.

“you are to her. and me.” Stretch stood quickly without giving Edge a chance to protest, faint orange dusting across his cheekbones as he headed for the kitchen where the rattle of popcorn was beginning. Next to him the child stirred, murmuring softly in her sleep. Edge reached over to settle a gentle hand on her, crooning wordless soothing. She didn’t wake, only took two of his fingers into a surprisingly strong grip and held on.

How was it, he wondered distantly, that her tiny grip transferred so easily to his soul, squeezing with gentle warmth around it right in his ribcage and holding on tight.

~~*~~

tbc

[chrysalispen]

upon pale dawns, prologue I: to be the water’s care,

my adaptation of a realm reborn- this will probably go up to praetorium and then have a separate longfic for the patches, but we’ll see how long the drafts get. 

at any rate! two prologues. you can find the AO3 link HERE

chapter under the cut.

====

“Land!”

It was a blessed word after weeks at sea. The shout arose from the sailor standing watch at the ship’s prow, leather-bound spyglass in one meaty paw.

At that single utterance, every passenger aboard the Explorer found themselves immediately drawn topside, and the snow-tressed Elezen girl standing on tiptoes to tilt over the tarred and salt-crusted wooden railing was no exception. The ocean crossing from Sharlayan was long and rarely uneventful and the ship’s passengers had spent most of it below decks, weathering the heavy rains and stomach-turning waves from perilous storms grown only more tempestuous in the handful of years since the Calamity.  

A burly Roegadyn crewman standing nearby, his hands busied with rope, squinted sharply at his unexpected visitor. She ignored his presence with a single-minded determination- there were more important matters afoot. Her focus lay upon the half-obscured outline of grey-blue and faded silver that broke the endless monotony of the open sea. Setting one patten-clad foot in the deck railing, she hoisted her weight up and forward to get a better view.

“Alisaie,” a young voice cut in, sharp and authoritative, “get down from there. If you lose your balance you’ll fall overboard.”

“I won’t lose my balance.”

“I sincerely doubt the good crew of our passenger ship would fancy diving into the water to pluck you from the waves, sister.” Alisaie spared a glance over her shoulder, bristling at the speaker. He could have been her mirror image right down to their attire, save the blue ribbon fluttering from its secured place at the base of a thin length of braided platinum hair, identical to her own. “You can see perfectly well with both your feet upon the deck.”

Alisaie responded with an indignant huff, but lowered herself so that her feet were once more flush with the oaken planks. “Seven hells, if there is one thing I will not miss about this journey, it is your incessant clucking.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Alphinaud. Like a mother hen, if she had fewer feathers than words.”

“I am only trying to look out for you. For both of us.” His brow knitted as he spoke- with either worry or disapproval, Alisaie couldn’t say. “Father would never let me hear the end of it if I let you fall into the ocean of all things.”

“I know! I know.”

“And if you keep fidgeting with your hair-ribbon like that you’re going to lose it.”

As if to punctuate his words, an errant gust whipped the end of her braid from its loose pin between her fingers. Her eye caught a flash of bright red from the tapered ends of the ribbon as it fluttered in the salty breeze like a loosened sail.

“Yes, mother,” her fingers fell away to fidget at her sides instead, “Do I have your permission to remain above deck, at the very least?”

Alphinaud gave her a startled series of blinks. He hadn’t slept well on the trip, being far more prone to seasickness, and the deep bruised circles beneath his eyes gave them an owlish cast. “Of course you can stay here, if you like,” he said. “It’ll be several bells before we reach the harbor, after all.”

Gods! Why are you always like this? The furious thought flitted through the shallows of her mind, surfacing briefly with the flare of her temper. It’s hardly a wonder that father wouldn’t trust you to-

Hells. Wasn’t worth it. Like as not he’d barely noticed her fatigue let alone her frustration.

Alisaie suppressed an exasperated sigh and watched her twin’s retreating back for a moment as he made his way down the stair into the bowels of the ship, before turning her attention once more to the encroaching sliver of shoreline that sat just beyond the white-capped waves.

Landfall couldn’t come soon enough.

~*~

"It's seen better days, hasn't it," he opined, "Tupsimati."

They had only just managed to scrape together the funds to afford proper furniture, rather than borrowing pieces or using what few battered desks and chairs remained upon the premises. Surplus cots and side tables for the shared sleeping quarters were still in the process of arriving at the Waking Sands, piece by piece, at great expense and after a good deal of haggling over the cost to bring them by chocobo carriage from Ul’dah.

Given the recent rise in imperial activity throughout the region, none of them had felt it particularly prudent to advertise their presence to the realm at large and so in the years since the merging of the two organizations, much smaller in the wake of the Carteneau disaster, the center of operations had remained austere by dint of necessity. There was little of value or note even in the solar save the large mahogany desk with its teak inlay - a gift (others might call it a bribe, he thought with sour good humor) from their erstwhile landlord - and the reliquary which had been mounted upon the wall since that fateful day of their ‘founding’.

His companion stood behind the desk with her back to the door, and her posture had not once wavered from the moment he had entered to the moment he had spoken.

"As have we all, Thancred."

He did not miss the gentle rebuke within her words. The smile that played upon his lips became faintly rueful - as conversation starters went, he supposed it had been rather lacking - and without another word approached until he could round the desk to stand at her side. Five years barely seemed enough for all the growing she had done, assailed by mysterious visions and driven by internal conflict over her strange gift all the while.

Nevertheless, in that short amount of time the girl he had known had become a charismatic young woman.

As Thancred watched the paths of her fingers in their idle drifting, crossing the surface of the newly varnished wood over grain and groove, he followed her gaze to its focus upon the wall. The mounted case which she now contemplated was new, although its contents were not. It sat a few fulms behind and above the bulky mahogany desk at the solar’s heart, and tucked behind the transparent bulwark of crystal glass lay all that remained of Louisoix Leveilleur’s final and heroic deed: the crest of a splintered cane with a stone bearing the symbol of Thaliak.

Metaphor, he mused, for the disaster wrought upon the realm five summers past. Or perhaps one better suited for the old man’s ghost- one which seemed to linger still within these halls.

“You don’t seem as well pleased as one would expect.” His words rang through the sandstone-walled solar, their echoes hollow and bland. He noted with some small concern the distant cast to her expression, as though she were listening to something he could not hear. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Hm? Oh, no. ‘Tis not the arrangements which bother me. In fact, I think this shall serve our needs quite well for the time being.” Her fingers tapped a quiet rhythm against the desk’s surface and her attention returned to the broken artifact above. “...Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself wishing Master Louisoix were still here with us. I suspect in my heart- I like to think- that he has gone to a well deserved rest. But I still…”

She didn’t finish the statement, but further words were unnecessary. Sorrow muted the bright spring sky blue of her eyes.

“I shouldn’t carry on like this,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“It is unbecoming of me to bemoan my lot. Everyone has lost so much to the Calamity, and we have borne far lighter burdens than most.” Her shoulders slumped for just the briefest moment before righting her posture again, but not so quickly that it escaped Thancred’s notice. “Even so, I can’t help but wonder what he would have done differently. Whether or not he would have negotiated better terms for-”

“Minfilia, please.” Her hands, seemingly placid at her sides, gripped the leathers of her tassets with a nigh-bruising force. Thancred unfolded one fist with care, as he might have done with an infant’s fingers, cradling them in one rough palm. “I don’t think anyone here is expecting you to be Louisoix Leveilleur, or even to fill his shoes. Besides which, the circumstances are entirely different.”

“I suppose.”

“Everyone else has had to start anew on some level or other. We’re hardly an exception,” Thancred shrugged. “And you have the words from your vision to guide us.”

“Yes,” she said, with a note of quiet conviction. He answered with a brief squeeze of her fingers before releasing her hand. “Yes, of course.”

“If you think this ‘crystal bearer’ She mentioned will make themselves known soon, then ‘twould be a benefit to us all to keep our eyes open for their coming. Would it not?” Thancred paused. “Is that what you wished to discuss?”

“Once the others arrive, yes.” Whatever hidden place to which Minfilia’s mind had wandered in that moment, she had clearly returned from it. Her gaze was clear and steady and her voice firm. “Truly, ‘tis wonderful - and serendipitous - that we have managed to keep this roof over our heads. And of course, I am grateful for the sultana’s continued assistance-”

“If not her ministers’ patronage,” Thancred said dryly.

“Quite.” Minfilia drummed close-trimmed nails thoughtfully against the desk. “But I do worry that it isn’t enough. These advantages will avail us little if we do not take steps to sustain our presence. It has been nearly five summers since we chose to join forces and disband the Path, and we are still struggling merely to make enough coin to pay for this space. We need more people, Thancred.”

His smile faded and the furrow of his brow deepened.

“I can’t help but feel as though I’m missing something. Should we be concerned about our funds?”

“Tataru came to me a few days past. We’ve received notification from the East Aldenard Trading Company stating that the lease on the land will be up for renewal by the end of the year, and that the rate will be increasing accordingly.” Minfilia winced. “...By which I mean to say: yes, I think it prudent to find other means to fund our activities. She agreed.”

“Then seek other means we must,” he shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think Tataru is within her rights to be concerned. The whole realm is still barely keeping its head above water as it is. We can ill afford to remain dormant, especially if it means insolvency.”

“Nor can we tarry overlong in debating the best approach to our other concerns,” she said. “The beast tribes have made it clear they will not wait for us to replenish our numbers ere they attempt to summon their gods yet again.”

“And there is also the Empire to consider,” Thancred pointed out dryly. “Two new castra in the space of as many years. Either the Garleans turned to engineering projects to amuse themselves, or the Black Wolf has been quite busy.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“Hm. Not as such, but... I have received requests from the sultana as to whether or not we believe there is aught to fear from the Garleans. More than once.”

“It’s a valid concern,” Minfilia pointed out. “Castrum Meridianum is but a stone’s throw away from one of the biggest Syndicate concerns in the realm.”

“Yes, and what concerns me the most is that at present I cannot say definitively, one way or another, if we face further incursions. We need more information on their movements.”

“On that we most certainly agree. I realize we’re stretched thin, but we need more people.”

“Agreed. But all things considered, I doubt any of us have the time or inclination for a recruitment drive. Necessary or not.”

Minfilia said, very carefully:

“Perhaps not. But… if, while you are afield, you should happen to come across more… talents, then ‘tis all the better if you send them our way. Not everyone you meet will be suitable, of course, but some few will and I think we can only be stronger for it if we increase our numbers as we go.”

Thancred flashed her a roguish grin. “That’s a very roundabout way of saying you wish for me to return to Ul’dah, Lady Antecedent.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You could have asked! As well you know,” he countered. “I have enjoyed my little vacation, but there is much to be done still.”

“If you prefer,” Minfilia said, her eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement, “I could send Urianger to the sultana’s court in your stead.”

“Urianger! Gods forbid. He’d hate every second.” He could just picture it. Bookish, eccentric Urianger looming over the diminutive lord of the Syndicate’s trading routes, intoning a passage from one of his scrolls. “I see no need to fix a method that is not broken. Leave us each to our own devices. I’ll go to Ul’dah and do what I do best.”

One of her slim brows tilted. “Charming the local maidens?”

“Young lady,” he said, dark eyes narrowed, but the corners of his mouth, twitching upwards, betrayed his hidden mirth. Minfilia only laughed and patted his smooth cheek.

“Jests aside, there are other reasons I would have an ear kept to the ground just now, and I would hardly trust anyone else with such a sensitive task. Will you do this for me?”

His teasing smile faded as he looked down at the person whose steady presence he prized above all else upon the star. She was his family, this slim graceful girl with her wide eyes and gentle, knowing smile and quiet strength - it would be easy to mistake her softness for weakness, not to see the steel within.

So thinking, his keen eye caught the slight tilt of Minfilia’s chin.

She was not asking, he realized. She was informing him. All she needed was the affirmation they both knew would be forthcoming, and she awaited it with her customary patience. And why should she not expect it? There was, after all, precious little she could ask of him that Thancred Waters would not be willing to attempt. He knew it as well as she did.

His smile returned in force.

“Tell me what you need from me,” he said, “and I’ll see it done.”