#I CONSUMED THEM AT LIGHT SPEED PLS THEY WERE SO GOOD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years ago

Note

a hard dom hitoshi pls?? maybe some rewarding in the end...

SAY NO MORE.

•Love Me Like You•

Summary: Just some Daddy Hitoshi being a hard dom, then getting real sweet.

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinsou x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Dom Hitoshi, Sub reader, Daddy kink (shocking I know), light bondage, impact play, creampie, unprotected sex, mild degradation, mild dumbification, a dash of spit play.

Word Count: 1,816

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Your thighs tremble, unreliable as you kneel. Your wrists ache, bound behind you for what has felt like eternity. Still, you don't move. You sit pretty and shake.

Hitoshi's hot breath is on your neck, one hand grasps your hip as the other adjusts the vibrator he's holding against your clit.

Your head falls forward and you sniffle against his sweat slicked shoulder. Your cunt honest to god hurts as it clamps around his painfully hard cock.

Hitoshi came home in a particularly sadistic mood. A very unique kind, though. Whenever he was in this mood, he would usually have your whole body bound, mouth gagged, and your pussy brutalized. Today, however, it was slightly different.

Today he was full of authority, he wanted you to obey according to your own free will, he wanted you to be good for the sake of being good. He didn't want you bound, he wanted to feel you squirm, watch you twitch, make you hurt.

"D-Daddy, please." You roll your head on his shoulder, crying into his neck as the hand on your hip tightens.

"No." His voice is short, harsh, unyielding.

You nod and whimper, body driven mad by how long he's had you hanging off the edge. You straddle his lap, impaled by his length as he works his toy against your clit.

"Do you really need more? Are you really that fucking greedy?" His voice rumbles in his chest, dripping with disdain.

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off with a harsh slap to your ass. You choke out a moan, the sting only making you tighten around him, only pushing you closer to the ecstasy he won't let you taste.

"Oh baby, I love the way that pussy tells me what you like." He lets out a breathy, condescending laugh before striking you again.

"You like that, little one? You like it when I bust your ass for you?" He smooths his hand over the reddened skin, chuckling when you let out a gentle sob as he flicks the speed of the vibrator up.

"I- C-Can't hold it." Your body jolts as you stutter out the confession, feeling the first flutters of your orgasm, cursing your disobedient body.

"That's a damn shame." He says thoughtfully.

Then, just as your body is about to ignite, he rips the vibrator away, then he plants his hand on your chest and pushes you off of his lap.

"You were behaving so well, you just had to ruin it, didn't you?" He crawls over you as you collapse onto your back, arms bending uncomfortably behind you.

"I'm sorry! Fuck- I'm sorry, it felt too good, it felt too good." Hot tears soak your face as you thrash on the mattress.

He grabs your jaw with a crushing grip. His eyes are wild, full of rage and impatience.

"Then you tell me, you tell me when it feels too good. You do not cum without fucking permission, you got that, slut?" His words drip from his lips like venom, biting and melting your skin.

"Yes s-sir." You sniffle, searching his face for even an ounce of mercy.

He pulls his hand away a little too fast, only to crack the back of his hand across your face. Your head whips to the side, you can't catch your breath or focus, you barely feel his hands hook under your knees as he pushes your legs up and apart.

"You didn't fucking earn this." He says before lining himself up with your dripping cunt, he pushes in with a low groan.

His fingers gorge themselves on your legs, his eyes devour your quaking form. You're nothing but clay to him, soft and moldable, anything he wants you to be.

"What do you say?" He asks, leaning against the backs of your thighs as he settles your legs over each shoulder.

"Tha-ank you." Your breath catches when he sinks all the way in, kissing your most sensitive spots with the tip of his thick length.

"Is that it, kitten? That the spot that gets you all fucked up?" His tone is mocking as he pulls his hips back. You nod frantically, desperate for him to fill you again.

And he does.

He fucks into you recklessly, he doesn't hold back in the slightest. He watches you cry and squirm and beg, and he fucking loves it.

Your body lights up, every inch of you catches fire as he breathes fire into your limbs. Every thrust in sends new shocks of pleasure to your very soul. All you can do is lay there and take it, especially with your arms bound and your legs so well contained by his body.

"You're so well behaved when you've got a cock inside you." He teases, turning his face so he can mouth at your calf.

"I wanna be good- wanna be good for you." You admit between sobs and moans, fisting at the sheets behind your back as he decimates your core.

Something in him snaps then, something depraved, something feral. He throws your legs off of his shoulders before grabbing you by the hips and flipping you onto your front suddenly.

You let him throw you around like the ragdoll you are, whimpering as you push yourself up onto your knees, keeping your back arched how he likes.

He growls as his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, his breath is hot on your pussy, taunting you with what could be.

"You're a good little whore when you want to be." He spits onto your clit with malice.

You turn your head so you can glance back at him, he runs his fingers up through the mess he's made between your legs. His eyes stay on yours as his middle finger plays at your clit, chuckling when you jump and whine.

"Beg me for it." He breathes, giving a confident nod down to his pretty dick.

"Please- I need it, I'll stay just like this, I'll take it, I promise I'll be so good just please let me have your cock." You blabber, only slightly worried it might be overkill, but your body is screaming for him.

His eyebrows raise and his lip twitches into an amused smirk.

"You sure look pretty when you're falling apart." He muses as he settles behind you, lining himself up with your hole once again.

"Please, please, please." The last plea is a broken, shredded cry. It rips from your throat with a sob as he finally sinks in again, ridding you of the emptiness you feel without him.

"You're a terrible little thing." He sighs, his nonchalant tone contrasting harshly with the urgent way he thrusts into you.

His pace is immediately merciless, the angle is brilliant, the sensation makes your skin run hot. Your toes curl and your wrists tug at the binds, your body desperate for the kind of freedom only Hitoshi can provide.

"Beg. Me. For. It." He barks out, cracking a palm down against your ass.

"I feel that cunt squeezin' me, don't you dare cum without asking. Learn a damn lesson for once." He sneers.

"P-please, Daddy please, lemme cum on your cock, lemme cum." You gasp out, trying with everything you have to hold off the electric euphoria creeping up your spine.

He grabs your wrists with one hand, and your hair with the other. He leans back slightly and lifts your torso up with him, suspending your upper body off of the bed as he hammers away at your weeping center.

"Do it, cum on that cock, cum on that fucking cock." His words become hurried and unsteady as he inches towards his own undoing.

And then it all shatters. The two of you cry and groan and grab as you fall apart, your sexes pulse and flutter in time, heat consumes you both and it's everything.

"That's my girl, that's a good girl." He praises as his hips stutter, slowing into an easy roll as he works you through your orgasms.

He lowers you down again as your walls continue to contract around his length as he fills you up beautifully, making you feel so impossibly complete.

His mouth is hot and sloppy as he kisses down your spine, making you shiver and arch into him.

"You did so good, you're so damn good for me." He smiles against your skin, reveling in the tightness of your cunt around him.

His hands work at the binds on your wrists, freeing them almost immediately. You sigh at the relief, letting them fall down as the rest of your body collapses.

"Easy, I gotcha." Hitoshi whispers, hands on your sides as he lays you down and slides out of you.

He's pulling you into his chest instantly, issing the top of your head as his hands rub soothing lines up and down your sweat soaked back.

"Baby, that was so perfect, you were so perfect." He says between soft kisses.

"I'm sorry I almost came without permission, it just felt so good." You say, hands clawing at his skin as you bury your face into his neck.

"Hey, listen to me." He says sternly, one hand coming up to hold you cheek and force you to make eye contact.

"You're not in trouble, I just needed you to listen, you listened so well afterwards." He reassures you. His eyes are soft now, honest and full of safety.

"I'd say you even deserve a back rub for being such a good girl." He says, a smile playing at his lips when you light up at the suggestion.

"Please?" You ask, voice sweet and eyes full of hope, it makes his heart melt.

"Anything, whatever you need." He promises, he gets you settled on the bed after he cleans you with a warm cloth.

He throws on a pair of basketball shorts before he straddles the backs of your thighs. You cross your aching arms under your head so you can watch him work. He looks so stunning, all milky skin and lavender hues as, it's absolutely mesmerizing.

"Thank you, Daddy." You sigh as he presses his lotion covered hands into your tight muscles.

He smoothes and rubs, working every bit of pain and tension out of you.

"Thank you, for being so damn good, kitten."

He takes his time with you, capable hands work with soft lips as he loves the aches out of your body. He brings you back down so sweetly, easing you into such a warm fuzzy headspace. Soon, your wrapped in his clothes, drifting into sleep as he whispers sweet nothings into your freshly washed hair.

Hitoshi is nothing short of heaven on earth, you're sure of that. He could be so rough, so demanding, but god he could be so soft, so caring. You love him for that, you always will.

#my hero academia #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou #my hero smut #shinsou smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #my hero academia smut #domsub #shinsou hitoshi #mha shinsou

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feliix · 4 years ago

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His ✦ JHS (18+)

✦ Pairing: Werewolf!Hoseok x Reader ✦ Word count: 2k ✦ Rating: M

✦ Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship!au, werewolf!au,

✦ Summary: After Hoseok’s first heat you are left sore and worn out, now its the morning after and he makes it his duty to ease the pain and make it up to you

✦ Warnings: explicit smut, fingering, aftercare – but make it smutty, mentions of marking, mentions of rough/heat sex, soft sex, praise

✦ Requested by the loml @hobiance ‘hoseok + cocktail + hot chocolate pls ma'am’

✦ A/N: this follows the same universe as Mine, but can also be read as a standalone

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland

Last night was a long and exhausting one, Hobi didn’t get home until late last night from his pack run, but you still waited up for him anyway. It always felt better falling asleep when there was another warm body next to you – specifically his.

Sleeping was not something that you got much of last night, though. He got home late but you stayed up later. Things got hot and heavy quicker than you had expected them to, and one round wasn’t cutting it either.

Needless to say, you woke up a little bit sore and out of sorts this morning, so your morning shower was definitely something you were looking forward to calm your muscles.

Stripping off your clothes, you take a look in the full-length mirror placed on the bathroom door. Much to your surprise your neck and chest were littered with hickeys. You hadn’t remembered getting marked like this last night. As your eyes travel down your body you notice more and more spots; red and purple plots of skin kissing the insides of your thighs, neck, and lower abdomen. You’d have to dress a bit more modestly for the next few days, which wasn’t that big of a deal.

Before you could even step into the shower to turn the hot water on you hear the doorknob of the bathroom beginning to turn. There was no place and no time to hide now.

As Hoseok steps through the doorway, you meet his nude figure. Of course, he didn’t bother to put any clothes on after last night, it felt much better to sleep naked after the rough and playful sex you had anyway.

His hands meet his eyes as he rubs the sleep out of them vigorously, yawning in the process. Slowly, his eyes open to see you standing in front of him, a questioning look on your face on why he was disturbing your morning routine.

“Good morning,” he says as his arms outstretch out above him, his face still looking exhausted from his deep slumber. As his eyes meet yours they widen in shock, catching a quick glimpse of the dark marks on your body and doing a double-take. “Oh my god, Y/n!”

“What?” You respond nonchalantly, not wanting to make a big deal about the spots covering your figure.

“I did this?” He says, dragging his feet as he paces over to you. His hand grabs yours, lifting your arm up to try and get a better look at your body, “Y/N I’m so sorry.”

His voice is full of worry and concern, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. Going through his first heat was a lot on him, and the first day was nothing compared to the next. As hard as it was to control for a fully mature wolf, it was 10 times harder for a new one. It was rough, yes, but you’d expected that. No, you weren’t upset with him, you actually found the spots covering your body quite beautiful.

He swallows thickly as he chokes back his apprehension, trying his best not to get emotional seeing you like this. “Hobi it’s okay,” you reassure him, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking him dead in the eyes, “I’m okay.”

“It looks awful,” he says, his eyes wandering to the mark placed just above your collarbone, “does it hurt?”

“Not…badly,” you reply honestly. There was no use lying to him at this point, you were bonded and if you were lying he would know. Yea you were a little bit sore, but it wasn’t anything a hot shower couldn’t fix.

“Baby I’m so sorry,” he says as he buries his head in your shoulder. You almost feel guilty about how awful he feels about this. There wasn’t much you could say to make him feel better, but reassuring him was the most you could do.

“Hobi I don’t care, its really okay,” you console him, cupping your hands over his cheeks to get him to look at you. Tears are pricking the corners of his guilt-ridden eyes as his lip catches between his teeth. Now that his heat has passed his emotions are running higher than before. Examining everything he did while his senses were heightened is a lot to take in for the first time.

“Are you sore? Let me run you a bath. I’ll get you some ice too, just give me one minute and I’ll-”

You stop his words with a chaste kiss, shutting him up nicely as your lips attach to his. He instantly relaxes once he feels your lips on his, his breath calming down while his shoulders lose their tension. As you pull away you meet him with a smile on your face. It was really okay, he didn’t need to be this worked up.

“I think a bath with you sounds great.”

A sigh of relief leaves his mouth as his eyes soften. There was no need to be worried, he could feel your sincerity now. A gentle kiss is placed on your forehead before he moves over to the tub, running the water and checking the temperature with the back of his hand, pulling the stop up once it’s warm enough.

Your heart swells as you watch him in his simple yet loving gesture. Now that you were marked you could sense more of his emotions than ever before. You can feel his every sorrow, every light of happiness that brightens him up, each bit of love he had for you was embedded into you now. His intentions were pure, he wanted nothing more than to show you how much he adores you.

Soon enough the water is drawn, vanilla-scented bubbles rest over the water and fill the room with its cozy scent. He knew it was your favorite, and going the extra mile to add that in just made it all the better.

“Ready?” He asks arm outreached to you to guide you into the tub. You take his arm graciously and you dip your foot into the warm water. The temperature was perfect, maybe a little too hot for a wolf, but perfect for you.

He joins you in the tub as soon as you sit down, placing his chest against your back as you sit between his legs. All the pent up stress is rid from your body as the warm water consumes you. His large hands stroking your body helps you relax into his, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours as you soak.

His gentle touches have a lasting effect on you. Something that is supposed to be sweet turns dirty in your mind, and although you are so sore you can’t help but feel turned on as his naked body wraps around your frame. Your breath soon becomes labored, trying your best to diminish your filthy thoughts and just focus on relaxing.

For a minute you forget that he’s a wolf and can smell your arousal before it even arises. Nonetheless, you’re connected now, he can feel the desire radiating off of you from a mile away, even though he’s sitting just behind you.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Your muscles tense at his words, your walls instinctively clenching as you think about his fingers inside of you.

“Please,” you say softly, shifting downwards slightly to make yourself more comfortable.

Gentle hands graze up the length of your thigh and to your core. Slowly, his fingertips begin circling your entrance, warming you up before he thinks about slipping them inside. You’re still sensitive from last night, he knows that he needs to take him time and be careful with you.

As arousal drenches his fingertips butterflies erupt in your tummy. You instantly relax back into him, your head falling forward to watch the movements of his hand.

His fingers trace the extent of your slit back until they meet your clit. Swiftly, he rolls the swollen bud between his fingertips, sparks igniting in your veins at the sensation. You could never get enough of him like this – even if you were tuckered out.

“Feels so good,” you moan, sensitive to his touch it was becoming difficult to control your body. A high pitched squeal leaves your throat as he begins rolling your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly, making you keen over in pleasure.

Soon his fingers are moving back downwards, beginning to dip into the arousal pooling out of your core. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you focused on the pleasure overtaking you. One finger is thrust slowly into your core swallow it deliciously, as you adjust to the new familiar sensation.

The slow movement of just one finger plunging into your depths takes your breath away in an instant. Your velvety walls pulse around his digit as you watch his finger thrust in and out of you at a snail-like speed. He’s careful enough to take things slow, letting you warm up before adding another digit to accompany the first.

Once he notices how comfortable you are, he adds in a second finger. You tense up at the added pressure, taking a moment to let your walls adjust to the new thickness. It was still nothing compared to his cock, but the ridges from his knuckles left behind a pleasurable sensation that you couldn't get enough of.

The mild discomfort quickly disappears as his lips press soft kisses to the side of your neck, trailing down to your mark. His tongue grazes over your new scar, your heart beating faster in your chest once you feel him touch it. You can feel his intentions through it, his devotion and his desire shining bright as your souls connect.

“I love you,” he whispers in between the kisses he places to your mark. Your eyes can’t help but begin to water, so overwhelmed with admiration for him that it’s becoming difficult to control your emotions.

You’re so caught up in the moment – caught up in him. The pace of Hobi’s fingers remains slow as he caresses your velvety walls. They thank him with each thrust of his fingers, clenching gently each time he reaches deep in your core.

As his fingers begin to separate your hips jut forward. He stretches your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions, relieving the ache you carried from last night. It was like resetting your body after a long work out, reaping the benefits of a nice stretch to thank your muscles. He was amending things back to your desired state, taking away the pain and replenishing it with pleasure in the process.

You were hanging on each of his movements, your orgasm building at a steady pace with each plunge of his fingers. It’s not until his thumb brushes against your clit until you begin to let go.

“So beautiful baby, doing so well,” he praises as your walls begin to spasm, releasing on his fingers with a guttural moan. Your vision goes blank, head rolling back onto his shoulder as you sink into his body. It’s like your weightless, floating through the air while your body tingles with euphoria. Hobi’s there to ground you, rubbing soft circles just under your navel to coax you through your high while his other hand remains steady in your core.

A mixture of emotions floods through you as you come back from your high, your body exhausted yet tranquil while your mind is wide awake. You’re left speechless, but that’s okay – he knows how you feel.

His love consumes you as you lay there in the tub, bathwater beginning to turn cold but the heat radiating off his body keeps you warm. The ache of your muscles has begun to fade, whether it was because you were too caught up in the bliss of the moment or the bath had helped. Either way, you were thankful that you were here and that it was him you were here with. You were glad that he was yours, and your were his.

#ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #bangtanshadowfamily #kpopuniversenet #bhqdrabbles #hoseok x reader #werewolf hoseok #werewolf bts #hoseok smut #jhs smut #jhs oneshot

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writersmacchiato · 5 years ago

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Hold On, Hold You | Bonnie Gold

Summary: The Billy Boys attack you in place of Bonnie. Will you survive the night?

Request: If requests are still open, could you pls write another Bonnie one that’s connected to the ‘Blessing’ fic, this time it’s years later in 1929 and YN is the one who ends up dying by the Billy Boys, Bonnie feels guilt by not being able to protect her and Tommy blames him for her death.

Warnings: pregnancy mention/pregnancy loss, blood mention (thats it i think)

>Connected to the fic: Blessing

There was too much blood.

It stained his hands, warm and thick as it gushed from your stomach. The smell burned his nose, curling his stomach as he tried to fight the despair that fought to consume him.

So pale, so cold.

Your eyes were glossy, looking at him with a frozen expression of fear - but not for you.

Bonnie let out a choked sob, applying more pressure. Aberama was speeding down the road; focusing on driving instead of his son clutching onto his dying wife.

. . .

The hospital waiting room was dark, damp as a chill settled through Bonnie. Aberama sat in a corner, watching him with a careful eye. Bonnie hadn't looked away from the operating room for a second, muscles tensed as he waited for any movement.

The door burst open.

It wasn't the movement he was hoping for. Tommy Shelby came striding into the room with fury, eyes surveying the room before he had Bonnie pinned to the wall with a gun under his chin.

"If Minnie doesn't..." Tommy can't even say the word, eyes flashing between rage and grief. "I'll kill you. She should have never been out there unprotected."

"Tommy." Aberama pulls him away. "She wouldn't want ya' fightin'."

"Where are the doctors?" Tommy shrugs off Aberama's hand, tucking away his gun. His point was made.

"She lost a lot of blood but they said it was good that Bonnie was there to put pressure on the bullet wound. Stopped her from bleeding out."

Bonnie feels a pounding pressure behind his eye, the flickering fluorescent light sending a nauseating wave over his stomach.

"You should have that checked, son. They got ya' good."

The Billy Boys had set out to kill Bonnie, but they changed their plan once they saw you - a Shelby. It had happened too fast.

They were hitting him, a blow behind his ear had him falling to his knees in a daze. His ears were ringing before they popped as a gunshot flew through the air, echoing off the trees. There was haunting laughter as the Billy Boys left the carnage.

Red. Red. Red.

So much fucking blood. It was too much.

The blood stained his hands still and if he closed his eyes he could still feel it on his hands. He would never forget how it felt to plead with God, pushing down on your stomach, hands slippery with the blood as he prayed for you to keep holding on.

He couldn't think about the baby.

The news had only been discovered a week prior. You had wanted to wait until the early phase had passed before telling anyone. Every night had been spent talking in hushed whispers, excitement shining in your eye as potential names were discussed. Aberama had been working on a cradle, ignoring your protests that it was too early - he was thrilled at the prospect of being a grandfather.

There was no possibility of the baby surviving.

Bonnie stayed awake the entire night with the knowledge that he had lost his baby and any moment he might lose his wife.

. . .

There is a tense air in the room broken by Polly Gray as she strides through the doors, an entrance less hostile than Tommy's had been. It still made the nurse wince as the door slams off the brick wall.

"Well?" Polly looked to Bonnie, mouth drawn into a tight line. "How is she?"

"Her condition is unstable but she's survived this long..."

"It's a good sign, Polly." Aberama leads her to sit with him, taking her hand in his. "She's a fighter. Stubborn just like the woman who raised her."

Polly takes out a cigarette, fingers slowly handling the lighter until it flicked on.

No other words are exchanged. There is nothing to say.

Hours slip by; time frozen as it slowly drips - every moment one that could bear the bad news. It seemed inevitable, like Bonnie already had the noose around his neck and simply waited for the floor to drop.

The doctor exits the operating room, the sleeves of his once-white shirt now colored in a dull rust. Exhaustion seeped from every crevice of him and the nurses - no one had gotten any rest.

"Her condition is stable." The doctor says. "It will be a slow recovery but she will live through it."

Tommy and Polly stand up but the doctor looks to Bonnie with a grimace. "She is asking for her husband."

Polly puts a hand on Tommy's arm to silence his protests, nodding to Bonnie. The doctor opens the door and Bonnie follows.

"There is something you should know." The doctor speaks up. "With how the surgery went and how traumatic the injury is...it is not likely that she will be able to carry a child to term. I'm sorry."

Bonnie clenches his hands, taking deep breathes. It had tided him over throughout the operation - the possibility that you would survive and things could start anew.

You look so small on the hospital bed. There is a void expression on your face, hands clasped over your stomach. Bonnie holds them tightly, bending down to kiss your knuckles - once, twice, before he lets out the sob that has been threatening to escape him all night. Your fingers brush against his cheek.

Cold.

You are so cold to the touch, it freezes him. Takes him back to the forest floor, the chilled air biting through his clothes as he tries desperately to save you.

"Bonnie, I'm sorry..."

“It's my fault." Bonnie cups your hands against his chest, trying to bring some warmth to your chilled body. You're too cold. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

So fucking sorry.

. . .

"She was pregnant." Polly looks at Bonnie, seeing his disheveled appearance. His hair was a mess; already overgrown but now tangled. The shirt he wore was too big, given to him by a nurse after she noticed that he still wore the clothes covered in blood.

Tommy sits behind his desk, cigarette in his mouth. His eyes are dark.

"I'm going to kill Billy Grade." Bonnie says. His voice is calm, steady - it should scare him, but he can only think of your broken expression as you blame yourself for losing the baby. "He's going to pay."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Tommy snubs out his cigarette, the smoke floating through the air.

"I have a plan."

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold #yall really thot i was going to kill minnie?? as if #i love bonnie x minnie too much to ever do that #minnie shelby

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mattymattymerduck · 4 years ago

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Fluff Alphabet with Matt Murdock 🥺 Pls

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Free time’s probably pretty lowkey with Matt, cuddling on the couch sipping coffee in the morning and playing little games like two truths and a lie. Which is pretty unfair because Matt can tell when you’re lying, but you always take the challenge to pull one on him. He also probably has a decent amount of board games (I know braille monopoly exists, you probably got it as a housewarming gift and spent the first night in his apartment trying to team up with Foggy to beat him, but at the last minute Foggy bankrupt both of you) and laugh at all your failed attempts to cheat.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Matt’s in love with your voice, but maybe more in love with the way you phrase things. He’ll be listening to you recount the plot of one of the shows you’ve been watching recently and smile hard just because the way you emphasis little parts and where you stop to breathe and the places were you slur the words together in a rush to get them out are adorable. He could listen to you talk all day.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

I think Matt would have a hard time knowing what to do, but he trusts that you know what you need in those situations. He’ll be there waiting for any request from you, whether you need a drink or a distraction, anything. He’d draw a bath for you or whip out a book and start reading to you, or he’d just sit there beside you until you put your head on his lap and he’d run his fingers through your hair and talk you through it.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Matt doesn’t like to think about the future much. He doesn’t want to let himself hope for too much and get disappointed if it doesn’t work out. But despite telling himself this there’s a little piece of him that really longs to get married and maybe put Daredevil away to live out a proper life with you. Maybe you guys would have a kid or two, but as long as he was making you happy it didn’t matter too much to him. I think he’d be a pretty big family man if he weren’t dedicated to vigilante-ism.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He’s passive. He has his moments of assertiveness, usually regarding the Daredevil and keeping you safe, but for the most part he’s happy just following your lead.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

You have a lot of different ways you fight, Matt’s more assertive than passive aggressive, but he’s also pretty cool-headed so I think when you argue it’s a lot of him being clearly tired of the topic and disappointed at what’s happening and that makes you even more angry and upset. Usually it takes a few hours of cooling off separately before one of you calls the other and you make up again.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

It depends on the day. Even though Matt’s super selfless he manages to let that image consume him and gets pretty self-involved over his work. So when he’s preoccupied with a case he doesn’t necessarily notice the coffee you leave on his desk for him, and when you’re out fighting crime he doesn’t think about you stocking up your first aid supplies or fixing up a meal for him in case he’s hungry when he gets back. But when he has a spare minute, cuddling you on a late morning or taking a bath with you at 4 am when he gets home all aching and bruised, he really appreciates you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He has a habit of keeping things to himself because he feels like compartmentalizing his problems is easier for both of you, but he’s spent most of your relationship realizing that’s not sustainable. He’s not great at sharing, but he’s actively trying to be better at it.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Yes to both! Your relationship takes a lot of work from both of you because Matt’s so used to doing things on him own and you’re so hungry to help but it never feels like you can help enough. You’re both constantly learning how to make up for those shortcomings and being better at working together.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I don’t see Matt as a terribly jealous person. I think he puts a lot of trust in his s/o, and he has too much respect for them to get too touchy or possessive around others. I do think it’s possible his s/o tries to tease it out of him sometimes, in which case he’ll be pretty subtle but firm in showing who you’re with. (i.e. you’re at a party between a few law firms and he hears you talking to a guy who’s clearly flirting with you, he’ll wander over and join in, wrapping an arm around your waist or put his hand on your lower back and escort you to the bar when the conversation dips. It’s very possible that when you get home he kisses you extra hard to make sure you know he’s your best option though :) )

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Hell yeah he is. Your first kiss was outside Josie’s, you were both riding the high of winning a tricky case and a few celebratory beers. Matt had his hands on your waist to push you through the door into the refreshing night air, you kept complaining that it was too early to leave and you wanted to stay (all the while Josie’s literally shooing you off so she can lock up). When the door closed you turned around in his arms and grumbled about how it was too early to stop celebrating and he laughed.

“Don’t laugh! You don’t wanna stop either, right?” You pulled your hands up to rest on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your fingers. “You can’t lie to me like this,” You smiled, Matt wondered if you felt his heart skip a beat there.

“No, I don’t want it to end yet.” His hands moved from your waist to your back, your fingers played with his tie, already half undone.

“Then... what should we do next?” You tilted your head and Matt could feel your breath on his lips, felt your heartbeat speed up a bit and tug at his tie lightly.

It’s a soft kiss, he moves in and your lips meet and you’re both thinking “this is exactly what I thought it would be like” - everything you thought it would be. His lips are soft and they taste like the foam of the beer you’d just been drinking, but his arms around you block out any chill that wind might give you and every time your lips separate they come back together more desperately, until your fingers are in his hair and he’s pulling your body flush against his and neither of you want to forget the way your lips tingled afterwards.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Matt wouldn’t make a big fuss about it. He’d be showing you how he felt in his actions long before he felt like he needed to say the words, but I think there’d just be a moment of silence between you two where nothing particularly special happens, and he’ll turn to you, find your hand to play with your fingers, maybe rest it over his heart so you knew he was being sincere, and say softly “I’m in love with you.”

Or, you know, just super casually in the office when everyone’s around and he’s in a particularly good mood. You guys just finished deciding what to get for lunch and he’s leaving the room when he pops his head back in and says to you “oh yeah and I’ve been thinking, I’m in love with you.” and just dip. He’d get a big kick out of you, Foggy, and Karen just sitting there completely baffled.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

It’s like Matt’s secret fantasy to get married to you, a guilty pleasure. When he finally does it, there’s no way he’s doing it alone, so Foggy and Karen help him. Karen takes you to a jewelry store to figure out what ring Matt should get, under the guise that she’s trying to interview the shop owner or something, you fall for it. Foggy and Matt visit an old client of theirs, who has a small restaurant that you and him visit every so often. They convince the owner to get on board and decorate the whole place with flower petals and soft lighting, sets the stage for a guitarist who agrees to play your favourite sappy songs all night. Matt’s pretty traditional so he’ll do the whole romantic wine-and-dine thing before having the ring come with dessert, he’ll get on his knee and say that he’s known for a long time that he wants to spend his life with you, that he wants to promise you he’ll do whatever he can to make you happy. When you say yes he’ll jump up and sweep you off your feet in a hug.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

When you’re alone it’s sweetheart. He’s more of an old fashioned pet name kinda guy, babe and baby just sound weird coming from him. Sometimes you tease him into trying something different until you’re just goofing off and calling each other dumb names like “poptart” and “yogurt tube” and laugh your asses off when one of you casually uses it a month later. In public he’ll just use your name, or some shorter version of it.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s pretty clear if you know Matt, it’s not like he tries to hide it. But he’s not like, shouting it from the rooftops, it’s more in his body language than anything else. If you’re in the room he’s stand close to you, or smile more when you talk, be faster at checking his phone when it rings in case it’s you. Sometimes he’ll even lean his head on your shoulder, if you’re in the office late and he’s tired or stressed. Foggy’s caught him laughing at a little voice memo you left for him when you were on a trip out of town and hadn’t been able to talk to him much. One time he asked Karen to describe a picture of you that was on his phone (you two had been walking through a park when an old lady stopped and asked to take your picture because “you two are so precious together”), he had a big smile on his face the whole time, Karen thought it was adorable.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He’s modest. He’s not about to dip you and make out in front of people, and it’s not exactly professional to hold your hand in a courtroom, but if he’s in a place where he can then he’ll kiss your temple when he’s leaving or give you a quick peck on the lips.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Hmmmm okay well I know this is a fluffy list but ... because he can hear your heartbeat he’s really good in bed bc he can always figure out what you like best in the moment, just sayin.

Also because of that he can tell when you’re stressed and tired just from your voice on your phone, so if you call on your way to his place he’ll make sure he has some way of making you destress when you get home! Whether that’s your favourite meal or a bath or something else ;))) He’s on it.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Cliche, he’s so corny. If he’s gonna do some grand gesture he’s gonna do something traditionally grand, just like with his proposal. That being said, he doesn’t do those things very often. Usually it’s the little things he does that prove he loves you, but for things like anniversaries he’ll be super sappy.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Yes! It’s important to both of you to support each other,, and the whole point of a relationship is to help the other grow and achieve what they want, so anything you ask of him to help he’ll do as best he can. You both prioritize your own work though, so if he has too much on his plate between the firm and being Daredevil he’ll tell you. Even if that’s the case, he’ll find some way to make it up to you later.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

I think Matt’s a routine guy for the most part. He doesn’t have a lot of consistency in the other aspects of his life, I think he’s enjoy having something like that in his relationship. But, he’s not adverse to doing new things, and he’ll happily join you in whatever you want to do.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Matt’s easily distracted by other things in his life, so he might not be the most empathetic person off the bat, but he can also read you like a book. From your tone of voice, the way you walk into a room, even the way you’re breathing tells him everything he needs to know about what you’re feeling.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

It means a lot to him. He’d be willing to give up being Daredevil in the future, if you asked him to or if he felt like it was putting too much strain on the two of you. But even with that, it’s not going to be his top priority at all times. He cares about you more than anything but protecting people and taking down Hell’s Kitchen’s villains is integral to his self-worth, and until he feels like he’s done enough to let himself have that peaceful happy ending with you, he’s not gonna give it up; at least, he won’t be happy giving it up.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Around twice a month you use Matt’s kitchen to make a whole bunch of meal boxes for the homeless, it has more space than yours and you like the extra time you get with him while you cook. It’s one of Matt’s favourite things about you, how thoughtful you are, and that you’re doing something in your own way to help the people of Hell’s Kitchen. He also just loves listening to you ramble or hum while you cook, or when he gets to wrap his arms around you from behind and nuzzle his nose into your neck, maybe sway to a song you’re playing from your phone.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

When you’re alone together then totally, when he’s in a cuddle mood he’ll always have some form of contact, even if it’s just your knees pressed together.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’ll cling to his phone and hope you’ll call him soon. Or he’ll call you, maybe wander over to your place. He also has some saved voice memos and voicemails you’ve left him in the past, he might replay them just to hear you.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Oh yeah, he’ll do just about anything to keep you safe and happy. If you’re threatened for some reason, he’ll find the person and deal with that on the same night. If you’re kidnapped or hurt he wouldn’t take a break until you were back in his arms again. And if you’re just generally sad he’ll do anything you ask of him to help you feel better.

Send me a character and one/several letter(s)

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #ask meme #fluff alphabet

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foulserpent · 4 years ago

Text

only human

long character analysis + fan fiction hybrid involving critically acclaimed worst best game of all time The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion! martin is in a mental and emotional hell! ned and martin resolving unresolved sexual tension after like, 100000 false starts! being mentally ill with the bro’s! "fluffy" ending!

cw: brief depiction of violence, ptsd, implications of past relationship based trauma, borderline explicit but not really sexy sexual content (nothing p*rnographic but 18+ pls)

On some nights, Martin was in hell.

The world was on a slow death march towards ruin outside the walls, this much he knew. Not even the strongest fortification could shield him from it. Every night from his gilded cage, he heard the screams, breathed the foul smoke and burning flesh and disemboweled gut, see the daedra drag the near-dead into the shadows to be torn apart, still crying out as they were devoured. His hands wet with blood, shaking in vain as his healing failed him and the survivors were pulled apart by their own wounds. The long walk out of the doomed Kvatch, past swarming flies and hundreds of blank eyes looking into the unforgiving sun. The revelation that all this was for him.

On the worst of these nights, staring into the ceiling of Cloud Ruler Temple as the sun began to creep over the horizon, he would wish he had just died.

This time last year, he was on track to live out the rest of his days in obscurity. Probably in Kvatch, probably remaining a priest, where the only weight on his shoulders was giving people their assurances that the Divines would look out for them and hoping he would finally taste truth in these words. It would be better than this. Those who held the reigns of the Empire were even more deluded than he'd thought, if they believed that his noble blood would divinely grant understanding of what to do, some inborn ability to keep collected and strong and sane trapped here as his friends faced death at his behest.

He would be called "lord", shone and polished as a commodity, loved and utterly devoted to, and never, never known. His feelings did not matter. This message had been thoroughly beaten into him. None of it mattered to whatever hand kept him guarded as preciously as the helpless king on the chessboard, behind a line of pawns to the sacrifice. Xikeel bringing him little gifts from gods-know-where (some teeth, a ring, a few spoons), slithering down from the rafters to visit him in the late night hours. One of the blades- bewildered - walking in on them dancing, without rhythm or music.

Long conversations with Ned, who would never treat him like an emperor, who barely even seemed to want to be there but had become doggedly devoted to Xikeel and himself. Bringing him wine, face softened into a smile in anticipation of an evening sitting outside in comfortable, quiet company. Tired and spiteful, but so warm.

He did not know when his feelings had turned to want. There was never an astonished realization, no moment that had changed everything. The first time he consciously acknowledged it was not as a revelation, but as an observation. Ned had cut his hand, a simple, foolish mistake that left Martin wearily healing him, in spite of the bosmer’s protests. Martin had held onto his hand longer than the spell needed, feeling the pulse in his fingers and wanting to entwine him in his own. Wanting to pull him in closer. Noticing that he wanted this, and noticing that it did not surprise him.

It was one of many things to think about, significantly less distressing than every other aspect of his current existence to say the least. He wondered if it was the day he had returned from his nigh-suicidal mission to cheat a god, haggard and shirt bloodied and yet with the softest eyes Martin had seen in the man, cracking a weak smile (a flash of teeth) that said "I've done it, and I hope you can forgive me". He wondered if it was Ned's unwavering devotion to leaving his shirt half-unbuttoned, the burn tearing through his chest on display like a trophy. The necklace would fall across the older man's breast while he laughed and joked about stupid things with Martin as if they were old friends. He was not above simple things.

Perhaps this was a test of the temperance he had spent years cultivating, hollowing out a part of himself to nurture the seed. After all, he had not been with anyone for a long time.

---

He had loathed the existence of the arena in Kvatch, drawing in men and women from all around in what amounted to mass suicide. There was little honor in it, just desperate people consuming themselves for just to grasp a thread of glory, dying in the mud as the crowd roared. But Martin was only human. He had found himself looking on the men as they passed through town, all muscle and scars and fiercely alive. He had found himself drawn to one who had come into the temple for a blessing of protection. The man never said why, though Martin knew where he was bound. It was never hard to tell.

The man was tall and rather handsome, with a muscular frame and dark hair and looking to be only a few years younger than himself, (this had to be around when he was forty-one or forty-two. Had it been that long?). They'd spoke first as strangers do, running through the motions of a blessing under a thick smoke of incense and flowers burnt in offering to the Dragon. Martin averted his gaze from the sword at the man's hip as he prepared the oil. Its hilt glittered in iron filigree and unmistakable rust of dried blood struck gold by the afternoon's dying light. His eyes wandered to the man's face instead, moving to begin the anointment. The dark haired man swiped his tongue over his lips and glanced away, and Martin's heartbeat spiked.

For gods sakes.

The man talked compulsively, glancing around as if something stalked him in the shadows between the stained-glass-light. Martin had silently hoped he would grow bored with the old priest and be on his way, if only so that he'd have time to himself to contemplate what the hell was wrong with him. So, naturally, the man kept talking long after the ritual was complete and the candles extinguished. About where he had come from, (all the way from High Rock, it turned out), the unusual rains lately, family. Partners. Lovers. The conversation turned here, and had fallen with such a speed that he barely realized what was happening. The man had found Martin beautiful, and Martin, exhausted with penitence and enthralled by the stranger and aching to just be human again, had found himself quietly slipping out with him.

Martin's home was truly tiny when occupied by two, an unfamiliar claustrophobia that was quickly dragged into the mire and drowned in a little too much wine. It was cheap and burned his throat with its sweetness, but he didn't care. They'd stumbled and fallen into his bed.

"For good luck," the man had said, as they kissed rough and far too clumsy.

"For good luck," Martin had kissed into the man's neck.

The man was a bit fumbling, all muscles and scars and fierceness. No matter how close their bodies pressed, no matter the grip Martin had - his fingers marking new trails over a scarred back - there was that distance. Two magnets repelling, even as they forced themselves together. These men going to their deaths couldn't be touched. And neither could he, no matter how he tried. There weren't even the barest roots of love here. Just body on body, flesh on flesh. It wasn't bad, though. Martin was only human.

He didn't know what to say in the morning, as the man collected his belongings to go off to the fight. "Good luck," Martin said again, feeling stupid. The man had said "thank you" with his eyes distant. He bent down and out the door, and walked out into the humid morning air, leaving Martin with a strange emptiness in his gut. He never saw him again.

It shouldn't have impacted him so badly. He'd had a one-night stand that was, frankly, pretty good. He'd given another man some comfort, something above and beyond his duty as the Priest-Healer-Penitent. It wasn't really against any vows. His lungs still breathed the smoke of offerings to the Dragon, a shrine to Dibella was dutifully kept at the foot of his bed and given a clumsy offering before the main event. He had not fallen back into the snares of that damned daedra. It wasn't a betrayal of those he'd lost. So why was he guilty?

---

And yet here he was now, on the precipice yet again. Really, he was long into the fall.

Him and one-of-two Heroes of Kvatch had slept together for a week now. Nothing more than the sharing of a bed and body heat, their day to day lives much the same as the world crumbled around him. They had kissed a few days ago, slightly dizzy with wine and the memory returning only in a haze. They'd kissed again the night before, sober and beyond any deniability as the bosmer was making his way out on errand. Ned had blushed and flicked his ears back, leaving him with a soft smile and a quiet "See you," as he slipped into the night.

Now, Martin found himself kneeling as if in prayer at the foot of his bed, his companion sitting up before him. Ned was half naked, body all muscle and scars and an exhaustion that ran far deeper than that. Martin had been healing a wound on his stomach- sliced open by a nasty (and thankfully, poorly aimed) dagger. The Mythic Dawn long since knew what he looked like, though they had hardly been this bold before now. They stalked the base of the mountains like jackals at the edge of a kill, waiting for an opening to lunge in and tear off some scrap of flesh. Ned hadn't wanted to talk about this one. His hands shook as he'd taken off his bloodstained clothes, and he scoured them with a washcloth long after they were clean.

"I'm fine." He had said. "I'm just tired."

Martin was tired too. That first night together, he had this romantic notion that being held by his friend would keep away the nightmares. They had come as they did most nights, crawling out of the depths of his subconscious with the worst of him they could offer. He'd woken up, breathing hard as terror dripped down his body. There was one difference. There was a warmth pressed to his back, and it breathed a half-snore as it moved in closer, nuzzled into his trembling neck. Ned hadn't woken. He had just wrapped Martin up into strong arms, and settled back into a deep sleep. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but even as the last traces of the nightmare pulled out its spurs, Martin felt safe. All he wanted was to return the favor.

Now, Martin leaned to kissed the gash across Ned's chest, the one that the man would wake up in terror clutching at, eyes somewhere far away and breathing hard. He trailed kisses down the line of skin warped by fire and blade, and Ned laughed. "I can barely feel it."

"Really?" The sword and its burns had probably damaged a nerve. Or done something worse, something that cut deeper. It was a daedric weapon after all. Martin would later ask where exactly he had sensation, to see if anything could be done about it. Later, perhaps. Now, he was tired of being the Priest-Healer-Penitent.

He leaned back in, close but just out of reach. His lips hovered down over the soft hair down his middle, making a glancing contact below the wounds. Even there, the skin seemed to have been broken and healed many times over a long life. How could someone live like that? He kissed him, just below the lower scar.

"How about here?"

"S'better"

Ned was definitely feeling something. The man's breath caught just slightly at the touch. He overcorrected, shifting in his seat a little and clearing his throat. Uncrossing his legs. Martin moved further down, just a little past his navel, laying another kiss on the recently healed wound. He wanted nothing more than to taste - touch the man before him, and to wake up with no guilt, no loneliness- he kissed him again.

"Or here?"

"Little better," the man's tone was flirtatious. "I mean, it'd be lot more sensation if you went just a bit low...er."

Ned had trailed off in the last word and froze at his own indiscretion. He was tensed like one with a hand raised against him, expecting a blow. As if he could have misinterpreted where this moment could go, alone and naked with his friend kneeling before him. As if Martin would be mad.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-uh." Ned flailed, pulling his knees shut.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I'd like to, if you would."

Ned's breath hitched. He looked utterly bewildered.

"OH- yeah, sure? Uh- Yes. Yeah." He sputtered.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment that lasted an eternity. Neither man dared to even take a breath. Ned cracked the tiniest fraction of a smile.

They both laughed, pulling apart. The tension had snapped, and the ache in his gut relented, put itself to the side. Martin hoisted himself back up onto the bed, sitting to his friend's side with a chaste several inches between them.

"It's... Been a while." Martin sighed. "Look at me, acting all nervous."

"Me too man, me too." Ned laughed, covering the blush on his face and utterly failing to hide the red of his ears. "’Promise I'm not usually like this, I have no friggin' idea what my problem is."

"Well, this'll just have to do." Martin made a show of shrugging and frowning in mock-resignation.

Ned let out a 'ha!' and leaned back, all muscles now relaxed as he smiled up at his companion. His words and smile were casual, but he was looking at Martin with such soft eyes, as if this tired old man was the damn moons and stars.

"Can I kiss you?" Martin asked.

Ned nodded.

He leaned over him, and went in for another kiss. And another. This time, it was as if a dam had burst. All lips and tongue and teeth and breath and hands moving on skin with a practiced clumsiness that spoke to years of experience, and spoke to one treading a ground that was brand new and wonderful for it.

As they pulled apart, Ned smiled and squeezed Martin's hands, and he squeezed back. They guided each other downward.

Now, Martin's lips were at a precipice below deniability. His hands held ready at the man's waist, a few fingers interwoven with his, beyond caring if their palms sweat or if their arms shook. He looked up to meet Ned's gaze, who cracked a smile and looked away, threading his other hand into Martin's hair in spite of his sheepishness.

"Can I keep going?" Martin asked.

"Yeah," Ned answered, still smiling. Eyes closed. "Please."

Ned's thumb brushed his cheek, a gentle encouragement. A 'thank you'.

And he kissed him.

#you can tell i literally just think of my interpretation of martin as an oc at this point. literally COULD NOT even dream of writing this #if i didnt #also i gave this one a title which is absolutely insane of me #martin septim #nasty ned #my writing

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renxamamiya · 4 years ago

Text

Theatre of Mirrors - Prologue

Here it is finally! I’m so excited to start this fanfic, with this au no less! This fanfic is going to be not only my longest in terms of written words, but also with chapters. I hope all of you are in for the ride, and also help me see through this fic to its conclusion!

Also, I’m thinking about putting this on AO3 also but idk, tell me your opinions pls I need it.

Warning though, this fic contains P5R spoilers for most, if not all, of the game. I’ve done my best to not include any within this chapter, but subsequent chapters WILL have them.

Special thanks to @digifangirl97 for reading this beforehand, @rui-the-galax-angel for being my constant source of inspiration and motivation to even start writing this au, and @yusuke-of-valla for promoting it. Other special tags include @nowyoureblue and @mad4turtles for being my biggest fans!

Rain pattered upon the concrete streets of Tokyo, grey clouds obscuring the Sun, only allowing slithers of its golden rays to trickle out. This was uncommon weather during the Spring, rain being transitional after snow, watering plants that were starting to bloom anew. Underneath his umbrella Ren waited patiently for the crossroad lights to change, packed between crowds of unruly people, his umbrella acting as a personal sanctuary against the relentless shower poured from above.

“Hey.” Morgana murmured, popping out from the bag he often slung behind his arm, “Is this gonna take any longer? The rain’s starting to get heavier you know.”

Ren rolled his eyes at the otherwise impatient cat, “I can only control so much, your majesty.” he replied sarcastically in his head, but held back his tongue as the crossroad lights turned green. He briskly started walking, no doubt not wanting to get caught up by the sudden torrent of movement, the risk of getting trampled by restless crowds did not appeal that much to him.

A year after his adventures within the Metaverse, where he stole the hearts of corrupt individuals and killed a God, Ren returned to the city from his country town. Pursuing an education of the culinary arts, he bought himself a small condo room using money he squirreled away from his adventures as the leader of the Phantom Thieves, his own sanctuary located within the bustling city. He lived on his own (if you excluded Morgana), his parents indifferent when he left them back at Inaba, not caring about their delinquent son; something he had counted on when applying for the education for a less traditional, ‘successful’ job.

“Have you got an email back yet?” Morgana asks, again perching his front paws on his shoulder, Ren shook his head.

“I’m going to check now.” he replied, before retreating into a small alleyway, reaching for his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the lock screen photo, an image of all his Phantom Thieves smiling at the camera, before sliding it open. Quicky tapping on the screen, he flicked through his emails, letters and words reflecting on the fake lens of his glasses.

“Well?”

“I’m trying to find the email, Mona.” Ren breathed, purposely controlling his tone of annoyance towards the animal. Scanning the multiple titles with his grey eyes, it took minutes to find the email he wanted, it being buried amongst a number of promotional letters. As soon as he saw the words ‘APPLICATION STATUS’ he tapped hopefully on it, reading it eagerly. However, he soon found his eagerness waning, disappointment instead replacing it.

“Dear Mr Amamiya,” the email started, the introduction formal, unassuming to the power it held for his future prospects.

“We regret to inform you that your application for the Matsuhisa School for Culinary Arts has been rejected, since you have not reached the target grade in order to within the program. If you think there is a mistake, please contact…..”

Ren stopped reading, turning off his phone and putting it in his pocket, too ashamed at himself to continue. He suppressed a cry, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his wrist. He didn’t want Morgana to witness his moment of weakness, especially while in public.

“Ren? Are you okay?”

Ren turned to Morgana, the cat looking at him with worried, blue eyes. How he hated at times that Morgana was with him for most of the day, hiding comfortably in his bag while Ren walked around Tokyo, almost as a slave to him. Yet he admitted to himself a long time ago that he’d come to rely on the presence of the feline to keep him sane, preferring Morgana to his own thoughts.

Ren blinked, grey eyes still shimmering with tears, blinking rapidly in thought, before he forced a smile on his lips.

“I’m fine.” he lied.

A sharp, hot pain suddenly shot through his head, Ren wincing momentarily, it dissipating as quickly as it came, only to be replaced with a feeling of sudden nausea.

“Morgana, what’s happen-” Ren slurred, another wave of nausea echoing in his brain, him trying to keep his balance as the world around him suddenly whirled at dizzying speed. The feeling was… unfamiliar. A feeling he felt he recognised, but the origin on the tip of his tongue.

“M-”

Before Ren could utter another word, he quickly lost consciousness, black abruptly consuming his vision.

“-en. R...n. Ren!”

Ren struggled to open his eyes, his head heavy, his mouth dry.

“-en, get up.”

He manages to blink them open somewhat, eyelids heavy, his hearing muffled.

“Ren!”

A sudden burst of energy managed to allow his eyelids to flutter open, grey eyes hazy and unfocused. Another round of blinks managed to allow him to stir awake, him pulling himself into sitting upright on the floor. He rested his forehead in one of his hands, back curved outward, groaning as the last of the dizzy spell dissipated.

“Ren, are you okay?”

“I’m fine Morgana.” he says, his head out from his hand, looking at his feline friend. It only takes him another minute to realise that Morgana’s standing on his hind legs.

“Morgana, why are you…” he trails off, taking a second this time to connect the dots. Morgana was standing perfectly on his hind legs. He stood on his hind legs only in the Metaverse. If he was on his hind legs here…. Then that means…..

They were both in the Metaverse.

The Metaverse had returned.

But…. how?

The myth that cats have nine lives did not escape the fleeting thoughts of Morgana as he struggled to get himself off the concrete ground beneath him. He was nestled comfortably in Ren’s bag when his friend suddenly collapsed, the momentum of his falling body causing Morgana to be flung out of his vehicle. A blur of events later the cat found himself on the ground.

“Ow……” Morgana groaned, feeling dull, throbbing pain on his head and body. It was a miracle that he was still alive, no doubt one of his nine lives evaporated as he impacted the ground. Still shaking, he spent another while on the concrete, his eyesight slowly coming back, strength gathering to his limbs. It took another breath for him to push himself into standing.

He took the time to gather his thoughts. He fell. Down. Hard. Because Ren… Ren…. Ren!

“Ren?” was Morgana’s first mutter since regaining his footing, memories flooding back. They were in an alleyway minutes ago, Ren reading one of his emails, his expression turning from hopefulness to one of hopelessness. Morgana asked what was wrong. Ren told him he was okay. Then. Then....

Morgana huffed, crossing his arms. The moment of realisation hit right after.

His eyes widened in shock, uncurling his arms and looking at his front paws. He was standing. On his hind legs. He reached to feel his neck, the familiar handkerchief wrapped around it in place of his bright yellow collar.

"The Metaverse?" he questioned out loud, and looking up he got his answer. The sky was coloured light red, a detail that often accompanied them when entering the bizarre dimension.

"But why… no… that's not important right now. I need to find Ren and then get out of here." he thought to himself, shaking his head before starting to look around his surroundings. Spotting Ren sprawled on the floor a couple of feet away, Morgana hopped towards the boy.

"Ren." The cat muttered, approaching his friend, his ears perking up in high alert. They were in a compromising spot, too open and vulnerable for shadows to attack them in this unknown realm. Ren was lying down on his stomach, his eyes closed, chest rising slowly up and down. Good, he was breathing. Morgana continued to scan their surroundings vigilantly.

"Ren," Morgana continued to pester the unconscious body of the boy, hoping to stir him awake, "Ren. Ren!"

Ren began to stir beneath his paws, Morgana running to see his face, the boy struggling to open his eyes.

"Ren, get up!"

Ren’s eyes fluttered, struggling to keep open, his consciousness threatening to ebb away.

“Ren!”

Ren’s eyes shot open, grey and unfocused, darting around frantically. Morgana felt relief as Ren fluttered his eyes a couple of times. A groan escaped out of his throat, Morgana backing away from him, allowing his friend the space to regain his bearings.

“Ren, are you okay?” he asks, Ren nodding in his hand in response.

“I’m fine Morgana.” Ren says, taking his head out from his hand to look at his feline friend. A moment later, Morgana held his breath as Ren’s eyes widened in shock. He had also realised that they were again in the Metaverse.

“How?” Ren asked, again blinking rapidly, confusion solidifying on his face, his heart beginning to beat rapidly from a sudden wave of anxious fear. Taking a moment, he looked around, his expression more worried as the seconds ticked by “Morgana, what’s-”

“I’m just as confused as you are.” the cat muttered, looking at Ren, a significant detail popping into his head, “You’re not in your thief outfit as well. Something is definitely going on.”

“You’re…. You’re right.” Ren said shakily, just then reaching for the mask on his face that wasn’t there, “Morgana.” he breathes to his friend, masking his growing anxiety with a commanding tone, “We need to get… we need to get out here.”

“No disagreements here.” Morgana nodded, “The fact that the Metaverse has returned, and you not gaining your thief outfit means that something’s definitely going on here. Something powerful.” he mused, “Something….. Unprecedented.”

Ren nodded, agreeing with his partner in crime. He reached for his phone in his pocket.

But it was empty.

“Hey.” Morgana mutters, seeing Ren anxiously patting his trousers, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to find my phone.”

“Your phone?” Morgana asks, “You mean the one with the Metanav right?”

“Yeah.” Ren replies as he continues to grasp for his phone. Did they even get here via the Metanav? He wasn’t so sure, the gap in time between him in reality and him in the Metaverse too abstract for him to even recollect.

“I remember you looking at it before we came here, are you-”

“Mona.” Ren sharply snapped, breath ragged, eyes wide and scared, pale hands shaking. Morgana recoiled back in shock. Ren was normally calm and collected, his cool head a feature that was crucial for him to function as the treasured leader of the phantom thieves. Under normal circumstances, Morgana reasons, this kind of behaviour would be unlike him.

However, the circumstances they both found themselves in were anything but normal.

“Hey, Ren. Just calm down okay?” Morgana said, trying his best to comfort his friend as his own feelings of anxiety began to swell, “We’ll get out of this. We always do.”

Ren stopped his frantic searching to look at Morgana.

“Yeah.” he smiled. Though Morgana’s words did little to help quell the anxious feeling swirling his stomach, he did appreciate what his friend was attempting to do, “But, if I can’t find my phone, what do you suggest we do, Mona?”

Morgana hummed, crossing his arms in contemplation. His gaze drifted towards the horizon amongst the barren wasteland. He could see lights flickering invitingly. He peaked his ears, hearing the sounds of chatter, laughter and music coming from the same spot.

“I think since we’re here, we do a little bit of reconnaissance, see what we’re up against.” he suggested to Ren, the boy following his gaze towards the commotion.

The source of the lights and laughter belonged to a theatre, it’s exterior grand and welcoming, reds and golds generously decorating the walls and staircase leading up to it, ornate statues gesturing towards the doors, ushering all who approached it inside. The building was tall. Long, glittering columns extended seemingly endlessly towards the heavens, figures that were carved within the marble supporting each distinct floor on their shoulders surrounded the width of the ornate, glass stained windows depicting unknown figures glowed with yellow light as both Morgana and Ren approached it.

“Whoa…” Morgana said, amazed at how beautiful, “What is this place? It looks amazing, right Ren?”

“It is.” Ren nodded in agreement, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about this structure. It looked… familiar. It felt familiar, as if he had once seen this particular palace in a dream. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He curled his lips into an unsure frown, “But….”

“But what?” Morgana asks, turning his head around to look at Ren, seeing the concerned expression behind the thick, framed glasses the boy wore.

“It’s…. Nothing.” Ren shook his head before giving a toothy grin at Morgana, yet it did not reach his eyes, “I’m just worried about not having my infiltration outfit, that’s all. But the fact that the Palace owner - whoever it is - doesn’t see us as a threat is good. Kind of like Futaba in a way.”

“Yeah, until she decided not to.” Morgana huffed, crossing his arms, “Then she tried to kill us.”

“She was unconsciously pushing us away.” Ren shrugged, starting to climb the steps to the theatre, “I don’t blame her.”

“True.” Morgana hummed in agreement, following Ren up the staircase, “You think the Palace owner is someone like her?”

“You mean, emotionally troubled and seeking help?” Ren asks, turning from Morgana towards the front of him, “I wouldn’t be surprised. My thief attire not appearing does support that. Maybe the owner really needs help. Maybe they want it.”

“You may be right, but it still doesn’t explain-"

Morgana’s out loud thoughts were cut short as the both of them entered the theatre, the sight of the interior so grand it took both their breaths away.

The amount of regalness of the interior of the theatre matched in grandness of its exterior. A sea of red carpet stretched wide on the floor, white marble walls were accented with glittering gold archways and columns. Velvet curtains hung next to the stained glass windows, golden lights glew upon golden chandeliers, the decorations luxurious without being gaudy. Ren however was drawn to the fountain nested between the staircase that curved upwards into the depths of the theatre, guests casually gliding up and down twin staircases, ignoring the boy and cat completely.

“Wow, what a place. The owner sure has taste when it comes to luxurious decor.” Morgana said, marvelling the foyer of the theatre, humanoid cognitions avoiding them as they talked amongst themselves.

“Yeah..” Ren trailed off, scanning the interior design with his eyes before him. Gery irises settled between the fountain nestled between the two staircases, and before he knew it he was walking towards the fountain, almost entranced by it. If he had paid closer attention to his surroundings like his feline friend at that moment, he would have quickly realised his fatal move.

To Ren, the fountain seemed to call to him. Faces were carved within the smooth, black obsidian, masks of all expressions decorated the bottom, the foreheads carved with numbers seemingly at random, accented with gold. Within the middle of the fountain sat a figure sitting on a tipped jar in which water flowed from. They were surrounded by masks suspended seemingly by magic, yet these weren’t the same masks that decorated the bottom of the fountain, each of them an individual, unique shape, made out of what looked to be like crystal. Light green, yellow, pink, blue, white, dark green, purple, black, and pale gold. His eyes trailed from the glittery masks towards the figure. They were sitting cross legged, details of their long, flowing coat lovingly carved in stone, winklepickers curved, waistcoat accented with gold. Ren noted to himself that the figure’s costume looked just like…

The golden accented mask gave it all away.

Ren’s eyes widened in stunned alarm, stumbling back reflexively in complete disbelief. The masked man’s familiar smirk, the way his messy hair curled, his eyes, golden gems glittering in the light. No. No no no! It was impossible! Impossible! Ren turned to run, but as he turned, pairs of arms wrapped around each of his, grabbing tightly, Ren struggling within their hold, kicking and thrashing, twisting his body, yet their grip only tightened.

“Morgana!” he screamed in desperation, craning his head back straining to hear his friend’s response, yet he could only hear the faint squeaks of frantic meowing as a blur of black blocked the view of the bipedal feline.

“Get off of me!” Ren screamed, still twisting his body, trying to get away from the grip of the strong armed shadows, kicking and flailing as the shadows dragged him towards the old fashioned elevators that stood vigilantly next to the stairs. The cognitive people did nothing but watch, ‘ooing’ and ‘aahing’ as he was dragged into the claustrophobic box, Ren sickly noting that all of them were wearing inverted mockeries of his domino mask. The doors closed, and Ren gritted his teeth to repress a sob as the demented husks of the masses applauded joyfully at his the spectacle that was his misery, clearly entertained by it.

The elevator shook with life before moving, Ren looking above to find them going up, the indicating lights ascending up a list of randomly placed numbers.

“Where are you taking me?” He asks one of the shadows restraining him, turning to find the same mockery of his mask perched upon its featureless face as they ascended, “Please, answer me!”

“You’re expected by our lead actor,” the other answered, Ren whipping to look at the other shadow holding onto his other arm, “He wants you to meet him in the Fool’s Theatre, says he wants his special guest escorted to his dressing room. You know how those big shots are, they get their fifthteen minutes of fame and suddenly they act like they own the place.”

Ren wanted to laugh at the shadow’s dry joke, but he couldn’t.

The allure of the grand decorations intoxicated Morgana as he wandered within the foyer with Ren. While the cat often had his guard up (something an ‘expert thief’ was required to do) the atmosphere in this particular palace seemed to lull him into a false sense of security. It felt… comfortable. Like the makeshift bedroom in the attic of Leblanc, or the cozy room at Ren’s Tokyo apartment. Morgana couldn’t quite put his paw on it, but it felt like he was at home again, that it was familiar.

He did not hear Ren leave his side, more occupied with the humanoid cognitions dotted around the foyer, all of them talking amongst themselves in hushed but excited tones, his ears pricking up at a conversation nearby.

“Is that him?” a woman asked her friend, looking over her shoulder.

“It probably is!” her friend giggled in amazement, “Gosh, I’m getting all flustered, do you think if I asked for his autograph he’d give it to me?”

“Oh my god, do you think he’d take a picture with us if we asked him nicely?”

Morgana turned to look at the two women, approaching them with caution.

“You should totally work your ‘womanly’ charms on him.”

“Do you think they’d even work on him? I think you’re just getting me to embarrass myself.”

“Of course! Then again, he’s so charming you’d probably fall flat on your face!”

Morgana looked around the theatre. There wasn’t any notable person that he could distinguish, most of the patrons looked like ordinary humans. Then again, Morgana reasons, this wasn’t a normal realm of existence.

“Who are they-”

“Oh my GOSH.” one of the girls squealed, Morgana turning his head to find the two women looking at him with wide, excited eyes. His own widened in terror. The two women were wearing masks, masks that look like Joker’s, as they continue to fawn over the feline thief, “It’s Mona-chan!”

“Mona-chan, may I get your autograph?!” her friend squealed as they approached Morgana, the both of them looking over him with disturbing glee, “Oh… you’re so cute, I could just hug you tightly like a plush!”

“Well, I appreciate the attention,” Morgana stammers, backing away from the two cognitions out of fear and disbelief, “But I’m currently in a ‘no-touch’ fur softening program, and-”

He turns, twisting his slender body, and runs from them.

"Mona-chan, come back!!" the two conditions called out to the cat, running after him, clearly fanatical towards the cat "We just want an autograph and a picture!"

"I'm sorry, my heart belongs only to Lady Ann!" he shouted back, weaving expertly between the legs of the cognitive guests, trying to find Ren amongst the sudden appearance of a large crowd. More whispers about what he presumed to be the Palace's owner muttered amongst the cognitions, yet he was too occupied to pay attention to their words. Peeking over his shoulder was the distraction that caused him to run into…

He stumbled back in a daze, but before he could react he was picked up by the shadow he impacted.

"There you are, you pesky cat." the shadow hisses as it picked Morgana up by the scruff of his neck. Morgana instinctively started to flail around, struggling against the sudden grip that he felt behind his throat, “You’re more trouble than you’re worth to find.”

“Let go of me!” Morgana shouted, continue to fight against the grip of the shadow, “If you don’t, I’ll-”

He heard Ren call his name in distress, the boy’s cries quickly being muffled by the crowd's cheer. With a new bolster of motivation of wanting to save Ren from the vulnerable young adult, Morgana continued to violently flail in the shadow’s grip, and has even resorted to clawing at the entity, trying desperately to force himself free from its grip.

“Ugh, stupid cat!” The shadow spat with malice as he continued to grip roughly at Morgana, clearly taking him somewhere away from where Morgana wanted to go, “Why do I always get all the shitty jobs.” it muttered to itself, another shadow approaching Morgana and his captor.

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” the newcomer asked in an exasperated tone, “Boss says he needs help with setting up the place for his guest. We got no time to waste in one stupid cat.”

“Yeah, but this pest won’t go willingly.” the shadow replied, still holding Morgana, “It’s fightin’ with all its might, can you give me a hand?”

“Hey, I am not a pest!” Morgana shouted defiantly, offended that the shadows would refer to him as such, flailing even harder against his captor’s grip, “Get your hands off of me! I’m warning you guys, I can slice you in half before you can even land a finger on me!”

“Oh, he’s so cute.” the other shadow chortled as he watched the struggling cat, “It’s almost too bad that we have to throw him out, I would even consider myself a fan of him.”

“Yeah, but the boss said-”

“I know what the boss said.” the other shadow snapped, and Morgana noticed goop spilling out of the shadow’s eyes. It stepped back, contorting sickly, limb flying and bending inhumanely, its body stuttering as more ooze continued to drip from it. A pause of movement lapsed before it dissolved to the ground, before shedding its disguise, revealing it to be none other than a Dionysus. Morgana eyed the shadow in fear.

“Hey, hold him still for a moment will you?” The Dionysus said, its fingers starting to crackle with electricity. Morgana’s eyes widened in alarm.

“C-C’mon you guys.” Morgana stammered, the moxie he showed instantaneously evaporating at the sight of the electricity dancing between the green shadow’s fingertips, “I’m s-sure you’ve got the wrong cat! Look, why don’t you let me go and I can talk it out with your boss? You wouldn’t hurt a little kitty cat like me would you?”

The two shadows looked at each other, amongst contemplatively, though their disingenuous smirks gave their true intentions away.

“Ziodyne!”

The last thing Morgana heard before unconsciousness reaped his senses was the round of applause the cognitions gave to an unknown spectacle, Ren’s muffled yelps for help still echoing in his mind.

The sound of cars whirring past and the idle chatter of people was what stirred Morgana awake, wet concrete from a day’s rain cooled his belly, shadows cast by the buildings above sheltered him from the rays of the hazy sun. He smacked his lips as he felt himself slowly stirring from his slumber, ears folded downwards towards the sides of his head, his legs trembling somewhat as he got up from the ground.

“Ren?” he asked, turning behind him, scanning the dark alleyway he suddenly appeared in, mind still heavy from whatever happened to him moments ago. His eyes drooped as he continued to lazily gaze into the shadows.

“Ren?” he asked again, words slurred. Where was the boy? Where was-

Oh. He suddenly remembered.

His ears shot up, his senses on high alert, memories that were lost clicked back into place. He and Ren were investigating that Palace, Ren was captured and dragged further in, him getting thrown out with no way of getting back. The cat started to panic, adrenaline running through his small body, heart beating faster and faster, him feeling like he’s drowning on dry land. Ren was in danger, he was in danger and Morgana could do nothing to help his friend! He felt useless as he paced around the empty alleyway, tracing invisible circles with his tracks as he tried to come up with a plan.

“Come on, Morgana.” he hissed at himself, his mind running full gear, yet the heavy fog of anxiety did nothing to help him come up with a plan. How to get into the Metaverse without a phone? Without a Nav? He was lost. Alone. vulnerable…

He gazed up at the sky. He felt so small. Like when he was alone after defeating the False God, disappearing in front of his friends, only to reappear alone in Shibuya.

He looked at the passing pedestrians, until he was struck with inspiration. He found his way back to Leblanc on his own before, right? Then there was the possibility of him finding the route back to the rundown cafe yet again. He knew he had at least an ally there, a person who he could count on at least helping him rescue Ren, and so he set off, careful not to get trampled on amongst the stampede of legs as he navigated his way around the metropolis that was Tokyo.

The pestering rain had stopped within the hour in the afternoon, the air hot and humid as puddles settled in the crevices of concrete, reflecting the yellows and orange sky brought by the sinking sun. The sweet, soothing sound of bird singing as they emerged from man made shelters did nothing to pierce the roar that was the constant machine of the city. Despite this, Yongen - Jaya could be considered a haven away from most of the megacity, a sanctuary formed by the rapid rise of urban demands, tucked away from tourists and troublemakers alike.

A girl walked out from the train station burrowed amongst the tightly squeezed buildings, head down as she was gazing at her phone behind dark framed glasses, oversized headphones hugging her neck as an accessory. Her natural hair was an oddity amongst the residents that lived in the small neighbourhood, but Futaba had lived there almost her whole life for anyone to give a second glance towards her.

She typed away on the screen, a piece of sucking candy resting between the roof of her mouth and tongue, effortly navigating around people and potholes, the narrow streets memorized from traversing them so much she knew each small detail like it was the back of her hand.

Futaba: yooooooooo kana guess what!!! Futaba: sojiro gave me some cash to go buy school stuff!!!!! on my own!!! Kana: that’s great omg! I didn’t do anything as fun today (；￣Д￣) Futaba: oh f Kana: work is a paaain sometimes, but i’ve almost got enough money to buy some new uniforms Futaba: oooooooo!!!! Kana: ikr!!!! anyways youre still in shujin right? Futaba: yeah, it’s too easy (－_－) zzZ Kana: oof Futaba: like I know it’s not prestigious but like….. booooooring Kana: didn’t you like ask to be enrolled there???? Futaba: yeah lol Futaba: i wanted to go there bc a really good friend went there and like

"Futaba!"

The girl looks up from her phone at the sound of her name.

"Futaba..."

The voice sounded familiar…. wasn't that…

"Down here!"

She looked down, a familiar black and white cat looking up at her with blue eyes.

"Mona?!" she exclaimed, crouching down to meet Morgana at his level, "What are you doing here? Where's Ren?" her eyebrows knitted. It was an enigma to see the cat separated from his beloved owner, and while Morgana was known to wander the streets of Tokyo on his own, he almost never did so without Ren a stone’s throw away.

"That's exactly why I came here." he replied, mowing in great urgency, "Ren's in trouble, and we need everyone's help if we're gonna rescue him. And I need a place to stay." He added, the last sentence spoken with a sheepish tone.

Futaba's eyes widened at the news that her brother figure was in trouble.

“Ren is in…? Ren is in…!?”

She suddenly crouched down.

“Ren is... is…”

Her breaths became fast and ragged and strained.

“..is…”

Her heart drummed and thumped in her ears, consuming her hearing entirely.

“Ren…”

She felt dizzy. Her eyes unfocused.

“Futaba?” Morgana asks, “Are you-”

She suddenly scoops the feline up, “What happened Mona?!” she shouted as she gently but firmly shook Morgana, “Did, did Shido’s men get him? Did someone else!? Please, tell me!”

“Futaba, stooooop!” Morgan shrieked, yet to all other bystanders, he was meowing furiously, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Oh, sorry.” she stops, gently putting the cat down, “But still, what’s going on?!”

Her voice started to crack. Morgana looked around their surroundings.

“Let’s go somewhere private.” Morgan said, as he turned to lead the girl towards Leblanc, “Leblanc is still open, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re not allowed there Mona.” Futaba points out, suddenly grabbing the cat, Morgana yelping in surprise, “Remember? Sojiro doesn’t want pets around food. You were only allowed in because you were always in Ren’s bag.”

“Not always.” Morgana huffs.

“Yeah right.” Futaba scoffs, though her anxiety did not quite dissipate from her voice, “Anyway, since we need a place to talk privately, I have somewhere in mind.”

“Where?”

“My room, you dumb.”

The only light in the room clicked on, Futaba wandering the cramp space with Morgana in her arms, her shopping bag full of stationary supplies hanging off her arm. She pushed the door to her room with her right foot, before settingling the contents she held onto her bed that sat nearby, Morgana hopping off and making himself comfortable amongst her untidy sheets as she dumped the bag she held before diving into her expensive looking office chair.

“So…” Futaba begins, eyeing the cat behind the frames of her glasses, brown eyes somewhat obscured by the lens from the glare of the lights above, “About….. About Ren.”

Morgana could tell that her facade was starting to crumble, her anxiety too overwhelming for her to swallow, hugging her legs, him thinking she was trying to comfort herself. He settled himself on the bed, before starting his explanation.

“Well...” he began, yet he was unsure where to start, looking down at his white paws, “I haven’t really processed everything myself…”

“Mona, please! I need to know!”

Morgana looked at Futaba, seeing that she was starting to cry.

“Okay… so… we were in Tokyo at around lunchtime. Ren was checking his emails for his letter of acceptance,”

“The one for that culinary school, right?” Futaba asks, Morgana nodding.

“Yeah. I asked him what it said as I couldn’t see the screen when he checked, but before he could respond he suddenly fainted.”

“He… suddenly fainted?” she asks, surprised, “Was he sick? Did he catch a cold earlier?”

“Not that I recall.” Morgana hummed doubtfully, “He was fine this morning, jittery even. Him fainting came out totally from nowhere. And so… when he fell, so did I.”

“Ouch, that must have hurt.” Futaba winced, yet she silently motioned Morgana to continue.

“Well, I woke up.”

“Yeah… but.”

“But what?”

Morgana looked down for a moment, hesitant to speak. Futaba gritted her teeth, anxiety again flaring up, squeezing her throat as her grip on her anxiety rapidly loosened between her fingers, “Mona. Mona I need to know.” her voice wavered, “Where did you wake up?”

“I... I woke up in the Metaverse.”

Pause. Neither of them made a sound. Morgana’s eyes gazed down. Futaba was too stunned to speak, too alarmed about the news of the re-emergence of that other world.

“You… you woke up in the Metaverse?!” Futaba half exclaimed, repeating Morgana to process the information for herself, yet she felt repeating the cat’s words with her voice only incurred more disbelief as she continued to inquire him, “The Metaverse.... It’s back?! How?!”

“That’s what I thought as well.” Morgana continued before Futaba’s thoughts could snowball into a panic attack, “But at the time, I was more concerned about Ren. He was dragged in there as well, and had no idea how we even got there.”

“Did he have his phone with him?” the girl asks, inching closer to the animal companion, “He must have accidentally tapped on the nav as it appeared.”

“That’s one of the things that bothers me about this situation.” Morgana admits, looking up at Futaba, “But, we woke up, his phone just… disappeared.”

“It… disappeared!?”

“Yeah. He swore he had with him before. He must have had, but when we woke up it was gone.”

“That’s… that’s…”

Morgana continued, “That wasn’t it. While Ren was looking for his phone I spotted-”

“A Palace.” Futaba finishes, Morgana nodding.

“Yeah, a Palace. You should have seen the surrounding area though.” he says, “While the rest of the surrounding buildings would remain intact, this palace had absolutely nothing surrounding it. Nothing but barren land, like the desert surrounding your palace.”

“A distortion that severe?” she mumbles, sitting back in her chair, “Whoever’s palace this is, definitely has a warped view on the World.”

“I agree.” Morgana nods, “So either the Palace Ruler only cares about nothing but themselves, or is a total shut in to have the surroundings distort that hard.”

“Like Shido… or me.”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…” Futaba thinks, though her anxiety still caused the rapid thumping of her heart, “So the Palace Ruler sounds really powerful to be able to drag you into the Metaverse, but distorted enough to have the surroundings distort that much. What was the Palace anyway?”

“That’s another aspect of this that bothers me.” Morgana says, an ear of his twitching as he continued, “It was something really unexpected: it was a theatre.”

“Why would someone, who has such a severe distortion, have a theatre as a palace?” Futaba points out quizzically, “That’s really, really weird!”

“There’s more.” Morgana informs her, “When we went in there were cognitions of people. They were wearing masks. Joker’s mask.”

An alarm rang in Futaba’s head.

“J-Joker’s mask?! Are we dealing with a fan of some kind?!”

"Seems like it." Morgana agrees, flicking his two as he contemplates the possibility "It's the only explanation that makes sense. But that has to mean that the owner knows Ren is a Phantom Thief. But..."

He sighs in frustration, Futaba feeling her own sense of perplexion at the situation they were in, "It just doesn't make any sense!"

Futaba's gaze trails down towards the floor, silence falling between the two occupants.

An idea struck her mind, Futaba quickly grabbing her phone, typing away.

"What are you doing?" Morgana asks, perking somewhat in surprise.

Futaba: hey guys we got a problem

Futaba: like a really super big boss level problem

"Messaging the others." she answers back flatly, "If the Metaverse has come back and Ren's in trouble, we gotta get the others into this."

Her phone chimes with a new message:

Ryuji: yo what is it futaba Ryuji: did you forget to pre order a thing again

Futaba scoffs at Ryuji's message. Morgana jumps off her bed and onto her lap, the girl yelling at surprise by the sudden feeling of fur brush on her thighs.

Yusuke: I'm positive that Futaba has already pre ordered all the things she wants Ryuji, even if it seems pointless to you. Ryuji: i dunno man, i think it's kinda dumb to buy something really expensive just for some plastic…. Yusuke: She just sees value in things you don't, Ryuji. Ryuji: yeah says the guy who bought TWO LOBSTERS that one time Yusuke: That was a year and a half ago. When are you going to let go of that purchase? Ryuji: dude I'm just saying that you buy weird shit as well lol Ann: guys pls behave! futaba, I'm sorry you have to share a chat with these isiots omg Haru: What's the matter, Futaba-chan? Are you okay? Ann: *idiots Yusuke: What about that one occasion with that bracelet, Ryuji? Ryuji: i said it was an accident!

Futaba growled in annoyance as her phone continued to chime with messages.

Yusuke: 1,000 yen down the drain just because you lost it the next day. Makoto: Ryuji and Yusuke, are you seriously arguing about this now? Yusuke: At least my lobsters were key to developing my art. Ryuji: wtf yusuke you lost them the next day Ryuji: how did you lose a buncha lobsters??? Ryuji: IN A DORM Yusuke: I did not! They simply were thrown out by the staff… Makoto: It was silly to buy live lobsters without a proper container to house them… Haru: I remember everyone telling me about Yusuke’s lobsters when I first joined. Ann: guys didn’t futaba want to talk about something???

The ginger haired girl gritted her teeth in place of amusement. She loved her friends, but the last thing she needed was for them to mess around.

Haru: I still can’t believe he did so, but at the same time it is a very Yusuke thing. Ryuji: god ikr haru??

Didn’t they know that Ren was in trouble?

Ann: pfft that day was wild, i think we should go to the beach sometime again Ryuji: yeah so as long as uni doesn’t fuck me up again Yusuke: If you studied, university should be easy. Ryuji: I DO Yusuke: At least university is somewhat easier compared to the entrance exams… Haru: I would love to go to the beach with you guys! Makoto: I agree with Haru. I know I have a lot on my plate but I’ll be sure to plan ahead for all of you!

Futaba shakes with frustration. The phone in her hands shakes, she starts to tear up.

Haru: I really would have liked to, I’m still so jealous you got to go with Futaba! Makoto: We should ask Ren if he wants to go as well. Ryuji: oh yeah speaking of futaba, what’s ur prob girl Ann: og yeah futaba has a problem right?

She can’t take it anymore.

Futaba: REN IS IN TROUBLE Makoto: I completely forgot, sorry Futaba, what were you about to say?

Futaba sobs.Her tears falling down her face. Her phone fell silent.

What seemed like an eternity, it rang back to life again.

Ryuji: WHAT THE SHIT Ann: WHAT Haru: What???? Makoto: WHAT??? Yusuke: What happened? Futaba: mona came to find me Futaba: he said that the metaverse is back Makoto: Morgana is with you? Ryuji: but i thought we destroyed that shit! Ann: I thought we destroyed it!? Futaba: and there was a palace Haru: The Metaverse is back?! Yusuke: How is the Metaverse back? Futaba: and ren got caught Ryuji: OH FUCK Ryuji: BUT HOW?! Ann: how did he get caught!?

Futaba wipes the tears off from her face with the sleeve of her jacket. Morgana, who was reading the chat logs alongside the girl, snuggled against her chest as an attempt to comfort her.

Makoto: That’s highly unusual of him. Yusuke: Ren is a dramatic person, but even he wouldn’t be so careless as to get himself caught during a palace exploration.

“You should tell them.” Morgana suggests. He would have done it himself, lamenting the fact that he did not have hands or fingers. Futaba nodded, sniffling as her fingers still shook.

Ryuji: how did he get caught? Ann: why didn’t he tell us? Futaba: mona said he didn’t have his powers. Futaba: his outfit was gone. Futaba: and he lost his phone.

Another pause of silence.

Ryuji: what the shit….. Ann: what the…. Ryuji: WHAT THE SHIT Haru: … Makoto: But… why? Futaba: mona thinks that it’s a phantom thief fan or something Futaba: but even he’s not sure Haru: What was the palace? Ryuji: FAN MY ASS Makoto: But that doesn’t make any sense! Futaba: it was a theatre Makoto: For Ren to not be considered a threat and to get kidnapped Ann: a theatre, like where plays are performed? Makoto: The ruler must know that Ren is a Phantom Thief! Futaba: i guess Haru: Could it be one of Ren’s other friends that was aware about his identity? Ryuji: dude if it turned out to be mishima i’ll be so fucking angry Ann: But didn’t we change his heart ages ago? Makoto: I don’t think it’s Mishima. Haru: Yeah, I agree with Makoto. Makoto: Although I wouldn’t rule it out, it’s highly unlikely to be him at least. Yusuke: Futaba, did Morgana catch a glimpse at the owner’s shadow?

Futaba looked at the cat, who shook his head.

Futaba: no Haru: How unfortunate Ann: uh guys. Ryuji: what is it ann Yusuke: Yes, Ann? Makoto: Where’s Yoshizawa-chanby the way? Ann: i got a weird notif on my phone Haru: She’s most likely at practise, she should be on soon.

Futaba’s eyebrows knit together. A strange notification?

Futaba: from what app? Ann: i dunno but I don’t recognise it Futaba: can you tap it? Ryuji: probs an app you forgot you downloaded Yusuke: I got the same notification. Ryuji: wait what?! Makoto: I just did as well. Haru: Me too. I don’t remember downloading anything. Ryuji: shit me too, this is effing weird Ryuji: i’m gonna check it out

Her phone chimed, an alert sent to her phone as a banner dropped down on her screen. Sliding to properly assess the notification, she read it.

“THIS IS YOUR INVITATION TO THE PREMIER TO WITNESS THE SHOW THAT WILL CHANGE THE WORLD. BOOK NOW TO…” the notification read. Under normal circumstances, Futaba would dismiss it, already tired with the constant advertisements that seem to be able to continually slither their way onto their phone. However she didn’t. What caught her eye was not the message itself, but the small icon next to it alongside the lack of an app name.

The icon was red, black and white. It looked like… Joker’s mask.

She tapped on it, eager yet scared to see what it entailed. Her phone stopped for a second. Futaba waited impatiently, for she would have thought the phone had frozen on her had digital numbers of the internal clock had not ticked by past one minute after six.

Before she could utter a curse, the screen suddenly faded into black, transitioning to a screen she thought she’d never see again.

“The Nav?” she says curiously, Morgana sitting up, the reappearance of the navigation app too peaked his interest.

“Is there a bookmark?” Morgana asks, caning his head to meet her eyes, “Check to see if there is one.”

Futaba nods, once again scanning the options of the demented Navigation App before tapping on ‘Bookmarks’. She sees there is one entry. She taps on it.

Ryuji: what the FUCK Ryuji: FUCK

Her eyes widened. Her mouth hung agape.

Makoto: What’s wrong, Ryuji? Ryuji: CHECK THE NOTIF Ryuji: NOW

She covers her mouth as she choked a sob. Morgana rereads the entry over and over in utter disbelief.

Ann: OH MY GOD Yusuke: Is this some kind of sick prank?! Ann: OH MY GOF

“T-that’s impossible.” Morgana stammers, the colour of Futaba’s face now flushed out, her shaking almost violently, tears again flowing along the cusp of her eyes.

Makoto: I… I don’t even know what to say… Haru: Mona-chan said it was impossible! It should be, right? Ann: GUYS WHAT THE FUCK Ryuji: I KNOW RIGHT LIKE FOR REAL?!?!?!

“It should be!” the feline exclaims, “It should!”

Makoto: I don’t know how to feel.

Yusuke: This is absolutely surreal. This must be a dream.

Ann: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Yusuke: I even pinched myself.... Ryuji: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Futaba stares at the words. The key words. The key words to a palace. The key words to a palace that should be impossible to form. The key words to a palace that should not have existed.

The words taunted her. Glowing on her phone. She read them again, unable to keep her composure.

They read:

‘Name: Ren Amamiya.

Distortion: Theatre.

Location: The World.’

Darkness occupied his vision, Ren feeling the blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes. It was before he entered the theater on the top floor did the shadows decide to blindfold him, a cruel joke he decided, still feeling the bruises on his arms from the attempt to free himself as they robbed him of his sight. His arms were tied to something hard. Arm rests, he assumed, rope digging into his wrists. He was at least thankful that whatever he was bound to was comfortable, his body sinking into plush material.

He waited. Even took a nap, but when he awoke barely anything in his surroundings stirred.

With nothing to do, his mind wandered back to the numbers of the elevator. They made absolutely no sense to him. Why were they in a particular pattern?

Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. What did they mean? Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. He thought some more. Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. He bit his lip in thought. Three, star, six, four-

The door to his prison opened. Heels clicked satisfyingly on the hard floor, the flap of a long coat could be heard as the door thud shut.

The mysterious newcomer hummed a tune somewhat recognisable by the bound boy. The footsteps got somewhat quieter. Ren could hear a rustle and the clink of ice knocking on glass, the swirling of liquid as it filled its container. The newcomer puts a container down, a sniff, a sip and a satisfied sigh. Ren said nothing. He dared not.

The footsteps started again, getting louder, the rattle of ice in water knocking glass more audible. The figure still hummed, carefree as Ren could feel their gaze trail along his body. They stopped when Ren could feel someone in front of him, the slight clinking of glass and the breaths from his observer almost syncing with the frenzied beating of his heart that banged rhythmically on his eardrums.

He felt a hand, a gloved hand, roughly grab the blindfold, yanking it upward. Ren yelps, the sudden action combined with the pain of the yank and the lights above seering his unfocused eyes that blinded him causing him pain. He squeezes his eyelids shut before opening them, blinking rapidly, the same gloved hand gently caresses his chin before tilting his head upwards.

When his eyes finally focused, he found familiar golden eyes framed behind a familiar mask staring back at grey.

#persona #persona 5 #ren amamiya #p5 morgana #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #haru okumura #dan's log #txt #myfanfic #palace: theatre of mirrors #LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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babbushka · 5 years ago

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Miss Zannah for Sinday can I pls get my husband being pegged. Pretty pls? He’s been so good he deserves it. -Autumn 🍁

“I made four new friends today,” Kylo says late at night, after the two of you have had a long day running the galaxy, “And I only killed one of them.”

You had been encouraging Kylo to open up a little, to maybe talk to some new people. He protested, saying the only person he needed to talk to was you, but you had given him one of your famous looks and he had taken the hint. Being Supreme Leader meant he needed to be personable, needed to be likable.

So out into the ship he had gone, and apparently he had listened to you – to the best of his ability, at least.

You roll over from laying on your back to snuggling up onto his chest, muscular and ridged with scars. You settle your chin on the dip between his pecs, and beam up at him, your fingers tracing happy little patterns all across his skin. He shudders underneath your touch, and you grin.

“I’m so proud.” You say sincerely, shuffling up to straddle his thick waist, abs tensing under your naked body. “And I saw you changed the policy regarding the TIE pilots, you’ve been so wonderful today.”

“I have?” He swallows hard, excitement flickering behind those dark eyes of his.

The lights are low in your quarters. The usual clinical white has been dimmed down to a soft red glow, one that washes the entire room in a seductive atmosphere. It’s appropriate, you think, for what you want him to do to you, what you want to do to him.

“Yes.” You nod, letting your hair fall into your face as you smooth your hands up his stomach, battle-hardened and strong. You can feel his cock filling up behind you, can feel the thick curve of it prodding your ass. His hands fly up to cup your tits as you lean down to whisper in his ear, “And you know what, I think you deserve something sweet.”

“Fuck me, please.” He turns his face to catch your lips, licks into your mouth real slow, insistent. “Please, (Y/N).”

You grin, you could have bet money on him wanting to get pegged, you could have won big.

Draping yourself all over him, you walk two fingers up to his mouth, slide them between his plush lips and rub them against his tongue.

“Suck.” You say, and as his mouth creates a vacuum around your fingers, you feel the wetness begin to pool between your legs.

He was going to get pegged, there was no question about it – but just because you were going to be on top, didn’t mean that you couldn’t also get penetrated. In fact, as a late-night impulse purchase, you had special ordered a double-sided strap on for occasions such as this.

Normally Kylo was pretty good about stimulating you with the Force while you fucked him with the strap, but towards his orgasm his grip on reality tended to loosen, tended to shatter, and you’d always be left just on the edge.

Well, you think, as he coats your fingers well enough that you pull them away from his mouth with a sticky string of spit, not anymore.

You slowly, carefully, finger him open. It’s fascinating to you, all the time, the transformation your husband goes through. He’s large, he’s intimidating, yes – but when you’ve got him like this, when he’s on the bed underneath you, when he’s got his legs spread like a whore and you shove your fingers up his ass, he practically melts in your arms.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” Kylo groans, his fingers sucking you up into his body.

“Greedy.” You whisper, no real heat behind it, as you get him open and sloppy. As you finger him, your other hand strokes his cock, coaxes pre-come to drool all over your hand, which you use as a lubricant. You’re being lazy right now, not wanting to get the real lube, not wanting to take a single step away from your husband. “Relax for me, just for a minute.”

You ask him with your mind to levitate over the strap. He does so quickly, eagerly, and the thing almost smacks you in the back of the head from the force at which he zips it through the air. He’s too excited, too wound up, too high strung, anticipation building in his beautifully flushed chest.

It takes a moment for you to put on the harness. The vaginal stimulant slides in so easily and so well that you have to brace yourself on his chest for a moment. He’s whining, hips wriggling as he holds his thighs open, his hands hooked under his knees, because he wants to be filled too.

He gets his wish soon enough, as the head of the strap nudges at his hole, the soft silicone warm just from being handled, wet from all your slick, all his come. You take over the hold on his hips and settle between his legs as his calves curl around your back, and for a minute you’re thrown, in awe, just at the sheer mass of him, of how he’s practically hanging off the edge of the bed.

You’re certain he helps the process along with the Force, he has to, because his blushing ass gives way too easily for the strap, and soon you’ve got it thrust all the way inside. The pressure from the action pushes the dildo further into your cunt, and you both cry out a gasp at the same time, pleasure pounding in your ears.

“Oh!” Kylo groans, his chest splotchy with arousal, his dick hard and leaking, curved beautifully against his stomach. “Oh, yes, thank you.”

“Don’t be shy, let me hear you.” You say even though your throat is dry, as you begin to move your hips.

As you thrust, you have to hold back from coming yourself, have to hold out for him. But it’s hard, because the thing is vibrating now, and you can feel it all the way up in your nipples when your clit rubs up against the hard silicone, your hips jolting forward, fucking Kylo deeper on the strap.

“Thank you – right there – harder, please, oh yes, yes…!” He’s babbling, already dissolving into pleasure, as you find a rhythm that has the both of you shaking, dripping sweat.

You pull out and ram yourself back in, you know he likes it hard, fast, wet, dirty dirty dirty. You know he likes it painful, the masochist. You yourself enjoy rough treatment, but it’s harder to be rough on yourself in this position. Maybe if he hasn’t blacked out, he’ll rail you into next week, your hazy mind conjures up in between the both of your moans.

“You like getting fucked?” You ask, drooling all over yourself, your mind buzzing from the feedback loop from your force bond. “You like this?”

And you know the answer, because it’s all you can think, all you can feel. All your senses are consumed with lust, with the feeling of power surging through you, your veins on fire. You can’t tell if it’s yours or his, but does it really matter?

“Yes!” Kylo moans, moans loud like a slut and takes the strap just as well, “I love it, I love you, faster, please.”

“You’re so handsome, so strong, so capable,” You do as he says, speed your hips up in a way that has him hiccupping, in a way that has you getting fucked on the strap too, rocking back and forth and back and forth on the stimulant, your clit throbbing just as hard as his neglected cock is. “Cry for me honey, let it out.”

He’s got big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, just from the stimulation. You can tell you’re hitting right up on his prostate, you can tell because the entire room is shaking, the proof of his power crushing time and space around you.

“I’m – I’m gonna,” He’s breathless, face and chest sweating so much that you can barely get a good purchase on his body, and he opens his eyes enough to ask, “Can I come?”

“Ask me again.” You shake your head, and he scrambles to apologize, to fix his error.

“Please can I come?” He tries again, shaking, trembling, licking and biting at his lips. “Please (Y/N).”

He wants to kiss you, but his mouth is too far away, you’re not tall enough to reach him from where you pound into his ass with the strap, from where you’re so close to coming yourself. You nod, giving him what he wants, because after all, he has been so so good.

You wrap your hand around his weeping cock and fuck his prostate and he’s blowing his load all over your tits before he can even yell, “Oh, Force!”

He raises a pleasure-weak hand to your clit and does something wicked with the power he wields, to have you shouting out your orgasm, arms officially giving out and collapsing down onto him. Maybe when you’re not electrified from bliss you’ll laugh about how must stronger Kylo really is than you, how much longer he can fuck you than you can fuck him.

But for now, he’s nearly out of it, stars dancing behind his eyelids. You know because he’s projecting them right behind yours, all his muscles twitching underneath you as the both of your bodies begin to drain themselves of all the tension in the galaxy.

“Thank you.” Kylo mumbles, exhausted.

You’re a puddle of come and affection, the both of you, but you’re too tired to even speak. As you slide the strap out of him careful careful careful, and as you undo the latches on your hips and ease yourself off the stimulator, you send him mental notes of love and adoration and affection, which he loops right back to you.

Tomorrow he’ll go back to commanding the galaxy with an iron fist, but for tonight, you think he definitely deserved a little extra care – even if he’s already snoring.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo x reader #kylo/reader #Anonymous #cowboy answers

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yastaghr · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmare’s Gang of Wranglers 3

Summary: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

Link: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

The first ride of the trip was always the most problematic. This trip was no exception. Nightmare had sighed when Ink had lost his stirrups the first time. The next three times had been annoying. After that it had ceased to be annoying and started to become funny. Rustle wasn’t going to let him fall, and it wasn’t like Nightmare himself hadn’t ridden without stirrups before. Just so long as he kept his heels down Nightmare would be happy.

But that was just the start of the problems. Dream was turning out to be just as annoying as he knew he’d be, but for an entirely different problem. That problem had a name. His name was Cross. Cross, apparently, hadn’t taken enough heed of all the stories Nightmare had shared with his gang about Dream. Cross was too thirsty for that. He was taking full advantage of his position behind Dream to watch his ass. Yes, he said it was because he wanted to be sure of the other’s seat, but Nightmare knew better. One, he knew that Dream’s seat was impeccable, and two, he could see the purple blush on Cross’ cheeks. He was just lucky that Dream didn’t notice. He would only pay for ogling a client, not for trying to go behind Killer’s and Nightmare’s backs.

The next problem was Dust. It was always like this; as soon as he thought Nightmare had gone out of his hearing range he started talking to his brother. Nightmare sighed. Blue didn’t seem too disturbed, but that couldn’t be said of his pony. Berry hadn’t ridden near Dust recently, so the gelding must have forgotten about his chattering. His ears were constantly swiveled back, but Blue seemed to be handling him well. His seat was good and his hands were soft even as he maintained control over the horse. That made Nightmare feel better about letting him stay there.

The last problem, and one that Nightmare had been predicting, was Ink’s paints. Their sloshing around was scaring the pack train. Blood and Sugar eventually had the whole line stop so they could redistribute the load. That seemed to calm down the mules, but Cherry was being his usual spooky self. That was okay. They were used to Cherry’s spookiness.

Nightmare was impressed when they made the first stopping place in reasonable time. He had allowed for much more malarky than actually occurred. Unfortunately it looked like they needed that time. The camp was in shambles. If Nightmare had to guess he would have said that a herd of elk had bedded down there recently. The trees were still leaking sap, the grass was laid flat by the weight of those sleeping bodies, and the tents that were the sleeping areas were torn to the ground. Nightmare sighed. It would take at least an hour to fix everything.

His crew immediately ground tied their horses and got to work. Dust and Blood saw to the grass, fluffing it up so that the horses could actually eat. Cross set to gathering firewood and wiping down the trees. Sugar looked after the pack train. Error used his strings to fix the tents, and Killer helped Ink to dismount. Dream and Blue had gotten down and were looking around.

“How can we help, brother?” Dream said instantly, Blue right beside him. Nightmare blinked his one eye at him. He hadn’t expected them to want to help.

“Why don’t you… help Sugar unload the food for tonight?” He eventually said. He still didn’t trust his brother, not after what he had done, but he knew that unpacking the mules would be very hard to mess up.

Dream and Blue nodded, ground tied their horses, and walked calmly over to Sugar. Good. They at least knew better than to spook the horses.

=====

Killer’s soft voice interrupted his focus on his brother. “Somebody’s got a crush, huh?”

Nightmare spun to face him. Killer had his signature grin on his face, and his soul was beating at a speed Nightmare recognized as happy. Nightmare relaxed slightly and said, “I didn’t realise Cross was being so obvious. He’s been ogling Dream’s ass this entire time.”

Killer chuckled. Nightmare didn’t see what was so funny. “Yeah, Cross. The big guy’s always had a soft spot for people who dote on the horses.”

Nightmare tilted his head. He didn’t particularly remember Cross being like that in the past, but Killer was miles away more observant than he was. That was why Nightmare trusted him to be his second in command. He was a general; Killer was his chief of intelligence. Neither of them could operate without the other. And they both needed Cross to keep the peace between them and guard against the dangers of the road.

“Well, he’d better be prepared to meet the consequences of his actions. Dream is a client, and he is definitely not a part of our relationship. What would you say would be an appropriate punishment? 15 lashes?”

Killer grinned. If there was ever a monster who was the definition of a sadist, it was Killer. “Oh, at least. I’d say we edge him a few times, too.”

Nightmare shook his head. He had the final say in this, and he thought that that was going a bit too far. “It’s only been a few hours, Killer. If he continues this behaviour tomorrow, then we can think about edging him. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Killer said, saluting. Then he wandered off to begin unsaddling the horses for the night and getting everything ready for supper.

=====

Blue was fascinated by the fire. He could vaguely hear the rest of the Star Sanses and Nightmare’s Gang moving around, setting up things for the night, cooking food on the other side of the fire, and, in Ink’s case, chattering away. None of that really mattered to him right now, though. His whole attention was consumed by the fire.

It had been so long since he had seen an untamed fire like this. When he was younger he saw them every weekend while his Dad was still alright and well. Then, after his accident, Blue had seen them every night as he struggled to raise a child all on his own. Then Stretch had grown up enough to say he hated the smell of smoke and that was that. Blue hadn’t realized how much he missed it until now.

Blue’s hypnotized state ended when one of Nightmare’s Gang sat next to him and passed him a cup. Blue looked into it. It seemed to have… ketchup?

“Here, drink it. I’ve never met a Sans who didn’t like a condiment, and you’re pretty cute, so enjoy,” The stranger said. His voice was deeper than Blue would have pictured, deeper and hoarser. Blue would have predicted the hoarseness after all of the talking this monster had done today.

Blue honestly wasn’t sure who the monster behind him had been talking to, but he couldn’t judge. One of his best friends still hadn’t stopped talking. Ink would have been hoarse had he been a normal monster. He wasn’t. It wasn’t that he was crazy. Ink was the kind of anomaly that rules had to be built around. So was the dark boned skeleton Blue recognized from a few years ago. Now if only Blue knew his n-

“What’s your name, anyway? I’m Sans, obviously, but most people call me Dust. Not my brother, though. He still calls me Sans,” Dust said with a grin, his mismatched eye lights shining bright. The concentric rings of red and purple were almost as fascinating as the fire.

“I’m Blue,” he said, startled, “Technically it’s Dr. Blue, but I don’t actually practice at the moment, so most people call me Blue. My brother calls me Sans, though, too.”

The wide smile that shone from Dust’s skull was dazzling. Blue’s eye lights widened as he took it in. Wow, Dust was cute. A blush spread across Blue’s maxilla, along with a hesitant smile. Maybe he could do something about that? Stretch wouldn’t be happy, but he already wasn’t happy about this little trip. What would be the harm in having a little fun?

“Well, Dr. Blue, I’d love to have you examine me sometime,” Dust said, waggling his brow bones.

Oh, that was flirting! Blue knew what to do with flirting. He batted his eyelids back at Dust and leaned in. “Oh, I’d be happy to. I’m sure you have some pieces of your anatomy that can fascinate me for hours. I might even have one or two suggestions that would make your life more… pleasurable! Mweh heh heh heh!”

=====

Ink overheard his friend laughing and grinned from ear to ear. “Yay, Blue! I’m glad he’s feeling good enough to laugh. He’s always so stuffy! That was one of the reasons we took this trip; to make Blue relax a bit! He-”

“Stars, do you ever shut up?” Error growled. He was securing the last string to the ground with some kind of spike. Ink didn’t know the names of any of this stuff, and he barely knew Error’s name. As far as he was aware he had never left the city before. Then again, his memory was absolutely horrible. Not as bad as Blue’s dad’s, but still objectively horrible. Good thing he wasn’t objective!

“Nope!” Ink said, popping the p. “I don’t like it when things are quiet at all! It’s super scary and makes me feel isolated and alone in a place where no one can rescue me. The same thing happens if I see too much of the color white! It’s kind of a trigger, so I fill up the silence with as much noise as I can and make lots of art! I’m constantly repainting the walls of my apartment, and I always have some music playing at home.”

Error was giving Ink the funniest look. It was almost… sympathetic? Curiosity sparked in Ink’s mind. Why would anyone relate to an experience like that? Ink was about to ask when Error spoke up. “That’s stupid. You’ve got actual friends, idiot. They’re not going to abandon you.”

Ink nodded. “I know that, but that’s not how triggers work. Triggers are totally illogical. They’re weird little psychological phenomena that we don’t fully understand. A trigger can be anything from the smell of lilacs, to the taste of chemo medicine, to the feeling of tulle between your toes, to the sight of a specific crack on the ceiling of your house, to-”

“The sound of door locks? Those ones with a full bar you lock into place with a key?” Error asked suddenly.

Ink took in the sight of him. Error looked haunted. Interesting. Ink’s curiosity made him a promise: he would find out everything about Error and his past that he could to satisfy his own curiosity. If he was going to do that, however, he needed to win Error’s trust.

“Yeah! That’s definitely something that could be a trigger,” Ink said, then he went on, “and it’s not like you’d have to know why it was a trigger, either. Sometimes we just have something that’s triggering to us without any explanation. Dream is that way about moles. The little furry animal, I mean. Totally sends him into a panic attack whenever they show up in a nature documentary we’re watching. Blue now likes to pre-screen any movies we’re going to see, just in case. Actually, he pre-screens them for a lot of things. Useless sex scenes, for one.”

Error snorted. Ink blinked at him, feeling an unfamiliar paint combination roll over him. He couldn’t have put a name to it, but there were bits of yellow, pink, and green in there. Yellow was happiness of all sorts, pink was affection or love, and green was the need for something. It could be the need for information, or food, or a plan, or… anything, really.

“Don’t,” Error snorted, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those sex purists who thinks you should only have sex after marriage. That’s so stupid.”

Ink laughed his own unique laugh that couldn’t decide between being a chuckle and a giggle. “No, I just think that those stupid sex scenes take away from the body of the story. Sometimes they’re good, but mostly they’re just put in for horny fans. They don’t even make any sense. People just don’t hop into bed with perfect strangers at the drop of the hat. At least, not any sane people. Not that sanity’s earned its good ratings, mind you.”

“Well that’s true,” Error agreed with distaste. “Sex shouldn’t be some kind of spectacle for anyone to see. I know I wouldn’t want anyone but my lover or lovers to see me like that. I might be the most handsome skeleton in existence, but that doesn’t mean I want to show myself off.”

It was Ink’s turn to snort. “You? Handsome? Your bones are black, Error. Don’t you know that the darker your bones are the less handsome of a skeleton you are?”

Error’s grin was absolutely crazy, and Ink couldn’t help but mirror it. It looked like so much fun! “That’s what they want you to think! After all, so many people are cursed with white bones. They had to come up with some way to boost everyone’s egos. Telling them that white bones are best is a good PR spin! I bet even you believe it about your own bones!”

Ink blinked at him, then slipped out of his overshirt and bared his bones. They were covered in patterns, almost random, that had more black to them than white. “It’s not like my bones are all white, though. I guess that means that, by your definition, I’m ugly, too! Oh well.”

Error’s larger eye light was now almost as wide as his socket. The other one, the grey one, had wandered off. Ink wondered if he could even see out of that eye or if he just had lazy eye. Either way it was disconcerting. “Well… you’re not that ugly. You’re less ugly than all those bleached-boned idiots in the movies. After all, you have some black on there. And the contrast looks… kind of nice, if a bit blurry. D’ya mind taking a step back?”

“Why?” Ink asked, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s none of your business why, chatterbox!” Error screeched, “Just do it!”

Ink sighed. He’d been doing so well with winning Error over, but nothing worth doing was worth doing too fast. He stepped back a few paces. “Alright, Error. Is this good?”

Error was too busy studying Ink’s patterns to answer. Ink studied his expression, committing it to memory. It was so… fascinating… the way he was staring at Ink. The play of light on the black bone of his skull was so enchanting, and the lines of his mouth were inviting in a way Ink couldn’t place. He longed to sketch it. Maybe later, after dinner, although the fire wouldn’t be the ideal light source. Needs must, though!

=====

Killer grinned as everyone took up their positions around the fire. The small blue skeleton and Dust were already seated, flirting with each other like there was no tomorrow. The artist and Error were arguing, but it involved more words out of Error than Killer had heard the entire time he’d been working for them. Blood and Sugar were sitting as far apart as they could stand, cooking the food and shooting each other longing glances. Cross was sitting at attention next to Dream and shooting him the most adoring looks. Dream seemed just about as oblivious as Nightmare could be. He was staring into space, zoning out. That left Killer to work on Nightmare. Perfect.

“Hey, Boss~” Killer purred as he slid in next to Nightmare, taking one of his tentacles into his hands and slowly massaging it. It was tense as hell. It was pretty obvious who was causing their leader so much stress. His eye light was fixed on Dream like it had been nailed in place.

“Yes, Killer?” Nightmare said distractedly, his eye light not leaving Dream, “What is it?”

Killer brought the tentacle up to his teeth, kissing it. “The tension in your aura is palpable, Boss. You need to relax a bit. Let me lavish you with all the attention you so richly deserve.”

Nightmare turned to face him, his eyebrow raised and his one eye light showing Killer his amusement. “Laying it on a little thick tonight, aren’t you? What are you trying to do, impress me? You know you already do. Or are you trying to distract me from Cross’ misbehaviour? I can see him over there. He’s acting like a lovestruck teenager.”

So are you, Killer thought to himself, a lovestruck teenager that’s fallen in love with his biggest rival. Out loud he said, “If you want to say that about Cross you have to say that about all of them. Dust is flirting with that small blue one like it’s his favorite hobby, Blood and Sugar are doing their Romeo and Juliet act, and Error is arguing so much with that artist that I wouldn’t be surprised if his voice wasn’t hoarse tomorrow.”

“The small one is called Blue and the artist’s name is Ink,” Nightmare said absently.

Killer blinked at him, then smiled his most winning smile - the one he wore when he was trying not to get caught at something sketchy. “You know, it would probably be a good idea if we introduced everyone before matching people up for the night. Why don’t I get everyone’s attention and you can tell people who they’ll be sleeping with?”

Nightmare tore his eye light off of Dream just long enough to narrow it at Killer. Then he sighed and shrugged. “Fine, then. No knives, though. I know you like to show off, but please, save it for another time.”

Killer saluted with the half-ironic, half-serious form that drove Nightmare crazy. “Got it, Boss!”

Then he turned to the center of the fire everyone was gathered around, raised his hands to his mouth, and hollered, “Heylalo, skellies! Listen up, the boss has something to say!”

Eight heads turned to face him with expressions that varied from annoyance to curiosity to mildly dissociative. Killer frowned slightly. Blood he could understand, but why would Dream be dissociating? Had something happened to him since he and Nightmare parted ways? Or was it just the general absentmindedness of a normal monster? Killer vowed to find out.

Nightmare’s grunt interrupted his thoughts. Killer turned to face his handsome datemate and listened closely to the orders of the night. “Now that I have your attention, I’m going to introduce you all and tell you who you’ll be sleeping with. Remember that these arrangements might change as the trip goes on, so if you can’t handle sleeping with someone please let me know. Blood, Sugar,” He pointed to the two of them in turn, “you’ll be sleeping together in the red tent. Ink, Blue,” Again he pointed to each of them in turn, “You’ll be sleeping in the blue tent. Killer, Dream,” He signaled who each of them was, “you have the yellow tent. Error, Dust, please take the black tent,” He gestured at both of them. “Finally, Cross and myself will take the green tent. My name is Nightmare. Now, does anyone have any questions?”

The boss studied each face in turn, as did Killer. They would compare notes later.

Cross was blushing and averting his eyes from Nightmare’s face. He knew he was in trouble for today, but that didn’t stop him from looking forward to being punished. It never had before.

Blue was looking at Dust with longing and a flushed face. The expression was mutual. Interesting. Maybe they should be paired up in a tent tomorrow night. Dust could use a bit of a chance to unwind.

Ink had clearly lost interest in the conversation. He was looking around at the clearing with his hand twitching in the air. Long strokes, short curves, and forceful jabs would have painted a picture if Ink had only been holding a paintbrush. Killer would have bet any amount of money that he was already planning a drawing or two of their surroundings. Artists were like that.

Blood was eyeing the food with hunger, as usual. After what he had been through it was hardly a surprise. Sugar was beaming at his brother. Only his practiced eye told Killer that he was ready for their night’s more… intimate activities. Hopefully this time they wouldn’t get caught.

Dream was eyeing Killer with something like anxiety, except moreso. It almost looked like fear. It did look exactly like the expression Nightmare had turned on him the first time they’d been asked to share a tent. Huh.

Finally, there was Error. Error, as usual, was grumbling to himself. Killer knew exactly what he was upset about. He hated having to share a tent with anyone. He was always on edge, worried that they were going to bump into him in the night. He knew better by now, though, than to complain. Nightmare had no sympathy for his disgust at the touch of others anymore. No one had ever touched him at night. That wasn’t going to change.

Nightmare nodded when he was satisfied that no one was going to complain. “Good. Now, Blood, please serve out tonight’s food to everyone. It’s time to eat.”

#bad sanses #star sanses #errorink #dustberry #killercreammare #error sans #ink sans #dust sans #underswap sans #killer sans #cross sans #xtale sans #dream sans #nightmare sans #wranglers au #nightmares gang of wranglers fic #yastaghr

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pxnk-velvet · 4 years ago

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The Dancing Warrior: Water, Chapter 11

(Sokka x OC Reader)

A/N: I’m so sorry but this is a REALLY long chapter, possibly the longest I’ve written so far...but oh well. If anyone knows how to edit a post so it has the “keep reading” link PLS let me know I’m begging 😭

It had taken them quite a while to finally arrive at the North Pole. There were chunks of ice floating in the water and the air was bitter to Navani. She had been shivering profusely for that past couple of days. She had never been to either of the poles before so she had no reason for owning a thick coat like Katara and Sokka. Katara had given Navani her spare tunic, which was a bit small, but a lot warmer than her own. The only thing she had were her robes, a clear indication that she was Fire Nation. Something they had all agreed to keep secret. Navani vowed to solely bend water for as long at they were there. And she knew she had to keep that promise or else they would all be in jeopardy.

Navani sat at the edge of Appa’s saddle, shivering as she tucked herself as far as she could into her tunic. Her knees were snug to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them. How could someone live in the cold like this?

She had been so consumed in her own thoughts that she hadn’t been paying any attention to the conversation going on between everyone else. But then she was brought back when Appa’s smooth sailing suddenly jerked and everyone screamed. He tried to keep his balance but some ice threw him off, causing him to tilt. Everyone one held on with strong grips....well almost everyone. As Appa crash landed in the freezing waters, Navani was thrown over with a scream.

They all gasped as the girl fell into the water, “Navani!”

Her body felt numb as she broke the surface, gasping for air. Her teeth chattered as dozens of boats emerged from behind small glaciers. She moved a fast as she could, which honestly wasn’t all that fast, and hurled her stiff body back onto Appa. They all had rushed to her side, but at the moment were too occupied with Northerners approaching.

===

Everything there was beautiful. There was so much to marvel at. From the beautiful architecture to the people and culture. Navani wished she could’ve enjoyed it more but at the moment she was soaking wet in the freezing cold. Her and Katara had done their best to bend the water out of her cloths and one of the men from the boats had lended her some blankets. Which she was currently tightly wrapped in.

As they rounded a corner, there were people along the sides of the canals and buildings waving down at them. Navani couldn’t help but smile and wave back despite her condition. At least she could enjoy that. Or so she thought.

The warm feeling grew a little as a small canoe drifted passed them, catching both Navani and Sokka’s attention. There on the canoe sat a boy and a girl, side by side, no older then them. Navani watched intently, curious. They were dressed like they were important with their hair decorated with different pieces and jewelry. The girl’s was a stark white while the boy’s was pitch black. They contrasted perfectly. Not to mention they were both extremely good looking.

That definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Sokka. Who sighed and leaned against Navani as a deep blush rose to his cheeks, his eyes glued to the girl as the canoe drifted by.

“Could you make it anymore obvious?” Navani scoffed, removing her support from under him. Laughing as he fell to the ground with a thud.

===

“Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sisters from the Southern tribe. And they have brought with them someone very special. Someone who many of us believe disappeared from the world until now, the Avatar!” Chief Arnook declared, from his seat at the middle of the table, “We also celebrate my daughter and son’s 16th birthday. Princess Yue and Prince Hai are now of marrying age!”

Navani nearly spit out her drink, turning to look but catching a view of the back of Sokka’s head instead. She scoffed, leaning back to see.

“Thank you, father.” Both twins bowed, Yue continued, “May the great ocean and moon spirits watch over us during these troubled times.”

The Prince turned and glanced her way, a blush so hot on her cheeks she thought her face would melt off.

“Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform.”

That was all Navani needed to hear to have her undivided attention. With an excited gasp, her head whipped around to look at the raised platform.

She watched with wide eyes as the three man manipulated the giant barrels of water to create giant streams moving in almost every direction. They moved in a manner she had never seen before, very different to her usual style. She was mesmerized. So much so that she hadn’t noticed someone standing next to her.

“Is this seat taken?” Hai asked politely, gesturing to the spot next to her.

With her attention still glued to the performance, she responded, “No, you can sit if you’d like.”

He chuckled, taking a seat, “I can tell you’re enjoying the performance.”

“Huh, oh.” Navani blushed hard, finally drawing her attention away, “Yeah, they’re really good.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Hai gave her a warm smile that made butterflies erupt in her gut.

“I, uh- I’m Navani...” She introduced, bowing her head.

“No need, Navani. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His smile never leaving his face. She giggled, breaking their gaze to save herself from anymore embarrassment. As she did she caught sight of Sokka and the Princess next to her.

“I’m thinking, maybe, we could do any activity together?” Sokka asked, attempting to woo the Princess. Navani couldn’t help it but feel angered by this. She knew exactly what he was doing....

Navani turned back to Hai, “So you’re a Prince?” She tried, hoping it wasn’t such a sucker of an attempt to make conversation.

“Yeah...” He chuckled, “I’m a Prince.”

“And...you have a sister?...Who’s your twin?” She wanted to face palm so badly but she resisted, “You two don’t really look alike.”

“Yue was born first and there was something wrong. So my father called upon the moon spirit for help. And it did, that’s why she has white hair. Hence our names as well. They mean moon and ocean.” He answered with not much enthusiasm. Like Navani had pushed a little too much.

“Oh, I’m assuming she gets all the attention?” She glanced over at his twin.

“Mhm,” He hummed with an eye roll, “She’s older, only by a few minutes so whoever she marries automatically becomes chief. Which isn’t fair. It really should be me because I’m the chief’s first son. Plus I’m a water bender!”

Navani perked, an idea popping into her head, “Me too! I’m not that good, though. I could definitely use some practice...” She batted her eyelashes, resting her elbow on the table and leaning on it. And just like that she was in....or so she thought.

“Well, I’m sure healing isn’t that hard.” He said smugly, waving it off.

Navani faltered a bit, pressing, “Healing? What about real water bending? Like actual fighting moves? Or dancing even?”

Hai gave a hearty chuckle, “Well...I guess I could show you a little something but no one can know, alright?”

Her eyebrows knotted in confusion but she brushed it off, nodding and smiling.

“We could meet sometime tomorrow?” He offered, taking hold of her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

She turned away, blush furious on her cheeks. And for a moment she forgot about why she was doing this.

===

She had been out for a walk that morning when she caught sight of a canoe in the canal ahead. Inside was just the person she was looking for.

“Prince Hai!” She called from the walk way, speeding up a little to catch up to him. Both him and Princess Yue were sitting in the small boat as it drifted down the canal.

Just as Navani cleared the corner, she ran right into someone, sending them both into water below. Both the Prince and Princess giggled at the sight.

“Ahhh, Navani!” Sokka yelped, pulling himself out of the water.

She could care less about what Sokka was yelling at her, as she shook her hair out of her face.

Prince Hai had gotten up from his seat and moved to lean over the edge, “Meet me on the palace steps tonight!” He called out as the boat continued to drift, without missing a beat.

Navani swooned as she bobbed in the water, a light blush gracing her cheeks. Soon after she pulled herself out of the water, coming to face Sokka as he watched much to his amusement. He had noticed the way the Prince looked at Navani, like he was head over heels. He knew that feeling, or knows to be exact. Sure he was flirting with Princess Yue but he couldn’t deny that he did feel a pang in his heart every time he thought of Hai and Navani together. He had her first, well, almost had her. Until he screwed it up for himself big time. Maybe Aunt Wu was right...but no. He just needed a distraction for a little bit then he’d deal with that, right?

Navani felt somewhat guilty as she stood in front of Sokka, soaking wet. Like she shouldn’t have made it known that she was going to visit Prince Hai later tonight.

So instead she grounded herself, placing both her hands on her hips, “Yes?” She questioned Sokka’s trained gaze.

He crossed his arms giving her a suspicious glare, “Nothing.”

She exhaled bluntly, giving a huff from her nose, “I’m going back to the igloo. Feel free not to follow me.” She turned sharply, taking off back the way she came.

“I bet you don’t even remember how to get back.” The water tribe boy laughed, watching as she groaned, stomping away. He followed her, doing exactly the opposite of what she said, just to mess with her. He walked a few paces behind her, throwing words of mockery every time she made a wrong turn or went in the wrong direction. Either way, they had ended up in front of the igloo they were staying in.

“Well, would you look at that?” Sokka amused, “We both got what we wanted. You were able to get home and I was able to annoy the heck out of you while doing so.”

“I suggest you shut up before I physically hurt you.” Navani threatened, not even batting an eye his way as she made her way inside.

He laughed, following suit, “You really think you can hurt me? I bet you can’t even pin me to the ground.”

They walked further into the igloo, stopping at the center. Navani shed her big coat, tossing it to the side before wordlessly getting into a fighting stance. Her gaze set sternly on his as he just stood there.

“Come on, tough guy. Since you think you’ve got what it takes, let’s put it to the test.” She stated, dipping low, kicking low and knocking Sokka’s legs out from under him. He landed hard on the floor, letting out a loud groan.

She stepped so she was over him, leaning to look down with her hands on her hips, “What happened? I thought you said you were a warrior?” She taunted, “Get up, I’ll give you another shot. You get the first strike.”

Sokka starred up at her in complete shock. As to why he was shocked, he didn’t know exactly. Of course she could beat him in a fight any day, he was just messing with her after all, right?

Soon after he stood, both of them taking fighting stances. Navani stood with a relaxed, yet steady posture, ready for anything like she had been trained to do. Sokka on the other hand, could fall over with the slightest nudge.

Sokka gave his all with his first strike, deflating a little when Navani dodged it with ease. Almost like it was nothing. He swung a couple more times, watching her move with ease every step of the way, like she had been doing this for dozens of life times.

Sokka tried and tried. He kicked, punched, grabbed, pulled, and shoved. Still nothing. Navani stood strong, barely even breaking a sweat. She giggled at his exhaustion, shoving his shoulder lightly, watching him lose balance and fall only from that little push.

She strutted over to him, placing her foot on his chest, “I didn’t even have to use my bending on you.” She leaned down, towering over him triumphantly. Watching as a smirk curl onto his lips and an idea pop into his head.

“Who’s the warrior now-“ Suddenly her leg was being pulled out from under her, Sokka being able to roll out from under her and pin her down as she made contact with the floor. He sat square on her stomach, using a hand to pin both of her wrists to the floor.

“What the-“ Navani barked from under him. She struggled under his weight, which was almost surprising because he was a little slimmer compared to her trained build.

“Looks who’s on top now! Literally!” He mocked with a big grin on his face.

She hadn’t realized how close they were until then. It all settled in. His weight on her, the way his breath fanned over her face when he talked, his hand holding down her wrists above her head. The butterflies in her stomach matched the intensity of her beating heart. Not to mention she was almost as red as her shirt. Both of their gazes locked on each other, trained so intensely. All those things she had felt for him before over powered the hurt he had caused her. Maybe she had been a bit too harsh, a little too stubborn?...

It had felt like they had been sitting there forever until Katara came bounding into the room.

“Sokka! You’ll never believe it! Gran-Ahh!” She screamed. Both Sokka and Navani yelling along with her as Navani basically launched Sokka across the room. Kicking him off from on top of her.

Katara turned away with her hands over her eyes, “Oh my gosh! Can’t you guys find somewhere a little more private to do that!” She took off.

“Katara!” Navani called, getting up off the floor to run after her, “It’s not what you think at all! I swear!”

They both ran to the door but gave up on chasing after her. They stopped in the doorway, standing close to each other. When they realized it, neither of them jerked away like they normally would’ve. Navani felt....comfortable with their proximity. Something that shocked her, scared her almost.

“I- uhhhh,” Sokka stuttered, trying to ease the tension, “That was fun wasn’t it?”

Navani playfully rolled her eyes, giggling.

===

Later that day Navani was the first to rush out for her...date? Training? She didn’t even know what to call it, with Prince Hai.

For the last hour or two she had spent her time with Prince Hai as he taught her some water bending moves. She was surprised because she already knew a thing or two but his way was so much different from the way she had been taught by her mother. So she was grateful that she was actually able to learn something.

Now they sitting on the palace steps, just enjoying their time together.

“Thank you for teaching me.” She said, leaning back with her palms against the icy step under her, “I really appreciate it.”

He turned to her smiling, “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me teach you. It’s not everyday a beautiful girl such as yourself gets to spend time with a prince.” He joked.

“I’m sure there are a ton of other girls who would be jealous of me right now.” Navani chuckled, noticing the space between them decrease slowly. Her laughed died off awkwardly as he got closer.

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter anyways. There would be no gain in a girl marrying me with my current situation.” He sighed, the atmosphere around them shifting.

“Now don’t say that.” Navani comforted, “Any girl would be lucky to marry you.”

He looked into her eyes and Navani saw how bright they seemed to glow under the moonlight, “You really think so?”

Navani smiled, glancing down at his lips and seeing how close they were, “I know so.” She spoke, attempting to keep their distance.

But much to her dismay, he kissed her. She gasped at the sudden contact, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. She felt confused and just odd. It didn’t feel....right to her. It caught her completely off guard. At this, the Prince pulled away quickly with a worried look on his face.

“Oh spirits! I shouldn’t have done that.” He got up hurriedly, leaving Navani on the steps.

She got up after him, “Wait! Prince Hai!”

He stopped at the top of the steps, Navani catching up to him and taking a gentle hold on his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” She began, look up at him, “I’m sorry if it made it seem like we were anything more than friends. And I didn’t mean to hurt you in anyway. But I just think we aren’t destined to have a relationship in those sorts.”

He gave a sad smile, “I understand....you like someone else instead.”

Navani’s eyebrows knotted in confusion, “What?”

“Sokka, is it? I see the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. I was foolish for even thinking that we could’ve had something.”

Navani stood silently for a moment. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did look at Sokka a little too fondly sometimes. And maybe she still got butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought of him in such a way.

Navani took a step closer to him, “No you’re not, you were just doing what your heart was telling you to do.”

Hai smiled again, taking hold of her shoulders, “Go. Go do what you heart is telling you to do and find him.” And so she did. Of course she didn’t leave without giving her thanks and appreciation.

Navani walked back to the igloo in hopes of finding Sokka before he went off to do his activity with the Princess. She tried walking without being too loud. Or else her foot steps would echo off the ice walls. She trotted down a couple walk ways, crosses some bridges until she finally turned up at the igloo. With every step her heart grew with anticipation. She felt as though she could do anything. She rushed through the doorway, a smile as bright as the moon on her face.

“Where is he?” Navani exclaimed, out of breath.

Katara and Aang jumped, startled at her sudden appearance, “Who? Sokka?” Katara questioned.

Navani nodded eagerly, almost squealing with excitement. She was finally coming to terms with her feelings.

“He’s mentioned something about a bridge and seeing the Prin-“ Katara wasn’t able to finish her sentence before Navani rushed back out with a thanks.

At this point she didn’t care if she was loud and her stomping foot steps could be heard. She figured she start with the bridge where she sent Sokka and heralded flying into the water. She slowed as she approached the corner. Hunched over, she caught her breathe. She couldn’t help but over hear the conversation going on.

“Hi, Princess Yue. I made you something.” Navani over heard Sokka greet the Princess. She peaked her head around the corner, leaning as far up against the ice wall as she could. It hurt a little to see them together like so.

She watched as Sokka held out his hand to show Princess Yue what was supposed to be a fish carving. When did he have time to make that? Maybe he really wasn’t doing this just to mess around with her...

”I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake.” The Princess cried, turning away, “I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.” She ran off as Navani stepped out from around the corner.

When she did something hard hit her in the head, “Ow!” She whined, rubbing the sore spot in her forehead.

Sokka stormed off without noticing Navani. She cursed herself for not making it known that she was there sooner. However she did make an effort to rush back to the igloo to make it seem like she hadn’t been spying on him this whole time. She ran through the doorway, startling Aang and Katara once again.

She tore her coat off in a hurry, along with her boots, plopping down on the ground next to Katara.

Not even a second later Sokka stomps right in, clearly upset. He kicked his sleeping bag and slumped down over it.

“How’s warrior training?” Navani asks carefully, making sure her pace was steady.

Aang looks at Navani with confusion. Navani gave him a desperate look and the boy quickly caught on, “That bad?” He played off.

Sokka groaned, “It’s Princess Yue! One minute she wants to go out with me and then the next she’s telling me to get lost!”

It saddened Navani to see him in such a sour mood over what had just went down. At that point she tuned out of the conversation and focused on relaxing. She laid down on her sleeping bag, arms behind her head and legs crossed. She hadn’t noticed Katara and Aang had left until a little while later. Leaving Navani and Sokka alone.

===

The events that occurred the night before greatly contrasted what was happening right now.

That morning Katara had challenged Master Pakku to a fight, which she still lost despite her skill. And now she was taking a walk with Prince Hai.

“You really like him don’t you?” The Prince questioned with a sly smile.

“What?” Navani blushed, trying to play it off, “I wouldn’t say really like him but-“

“Just admit and stop making it harder for yourself.” He laughed as they approached a bridge.

There stood the Princess and Sokka engaged in a kiss. Navani froze. Her whole body going numb. Her heart began to ache in her chest, under all the layers of cloths she had on. A lump grew in her throat, getting bigger by the second.

Prince Hai had done a service by leading her away from the scene as she wept. She knew she shouldn’t be crying. Because if Sokka had seen her and Hai kiss yesterday, would he have reacted the same?

Hai brought her close in a snug embrace, “Navani, don’t cry. It’ll be alright. She can’t even be with him. She’s engaged!” He explained, taking her face in his hands.

But her expression stayed the same as more tears fell upon her cheeks. Her breathing was choppy and all she could do was sob. She didn’t know why she was in the first place. It’s not like her and Sokka were...dating...in the first place. But she knew deep down that she wanted him. Yet she couldn’t have him.

[][][]

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#avatar the last airbender #sokka x oc #atla fic #atla x reader #atla #atla fanfic #aang #katara #toph #navani #sokka #original character #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #sokka of the southern water tribe #sokka x reader #angie writes #oc fic

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writhingcreature · 5 years ago

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Prompt 8 - Stenbrough

“I don’t know if you are still doing drabbles or not, but can you do one with stenbrough? Maybe one using the quote “With you, I am safe?” Please? I’m in the mood for softness.” - @a-false-king

Stan was really chill, for the most part. He liked the quiet and the stillness. Or, the slow, lowkey things about the world that often went unnoticed. He liked sitting outside on a sunny day with eyes closed, listening to the very distant sound of traffic and feeling the breeze and light on his skin. He basked in it, far away from chaos and therefore safe from danger.

Life was kind of terrifying for Stan. He was a gut driven man, often leaning towards things that felt good and taking off at full speed away from things that even remotely made him feel uncomfortable. He liked things neat and in order. He liked them to make sense. He liked making people happy and doing what he was supposed to.

Bill was kind of a mess. He wasn’t as bad as Richie, but when Richie needed a midnight friend to go and create havoc with, it was always Bill he called. He liked having fun and going out and driving a little faster than he should. He liked 2am ice cream and thriller movies and horror novels and drama plays that had lots of fighting and ridiculousness in it. He liked getting into trouble, and that never went away- even when he got older.

Things still scared Bill, but he was the kind of man that usually ignored those feelings in favor of doing what was right, or doing what he wanted to do. On top of that, not only was he good at getting into trouble, he was good at dragging people along with him. Usually, Richie would drag him and sometimes Bev, and Bill would be left with the job of getting those of the Losers who were hesitant.

Even after years of eventually winning over each and every one of the Losers, Stan remained stubborn. It was a fight every time. A promise. A swear. A guarantee. Every time it Stan who hesitated each time, ending up enjoying it the most when it was all over. It was Stan who got them out of trouble, talking or reasoning their way out of getting caught like he was mind controlling them. And every time, it was always only ever Bill who could get him to agree to come along.

As they got older, they got into less pranks and sneaking out became less for the Losers and much more often just the two of them. Bill was talking Stan into dates rather than early morning mischief. They were falling asleep at each other’s houses and holding hands under the table and kissing int he back of the movie theater and flirting with each other when they were sure no one could hear. Soon, it was less “let’s go get food” and more “let’s go make out”.

Suddenly Bill and Stan were in a full fledged secret relationship and Stan was utterly terrified every second of it. On top of the sneaking around, Bill was very obvious and endlessly insatiable. He always wanted to stay a little bit longer. He always wanted one more kiss. Five more minutes cuddling. He flirted with Stan in public for pete’s sake! Thank god for Stan’s cleverness, otherwise everyone would have found out a long time ago.

Two boys being together? In Derry, Maine? I think not.

Yet here Stan and Bill were. Being very much together and most definitely falling in love.

They never did tell the others about them, though their friends weren’t stupid and seemed to know. It was just that no one ever said anything about it. When Stan got into a more serious business, after college, he invited Bill to go with him. To leave Derry. Bill, who fancied being a writer, was all too eager.

Bill was a little dangerous. A little wild. A little crazy. Despite everything, he never lost his touch of youth and drive for excitement. He never fully grew up, cracking jokes and rolling his eyes and winking and teasing and flirting like they were still sixteen and not-so-secretly crushing on each other.

Stan was still terrified. Life still scared him. He still had a tendency to hide behind Bill when people got a little nasty or too curious or Bill was being a tad too obvious. He still had nightmares that woke him up or kept him from sleeping all together. He still jumped when people even said the word gay or looked between Bill and Stan with That Look that hinted at them maybe knowing everything.

At the end of the day though, Bill was there to soothe him. No matter how scared he was. How unsure he was. Bill understood his fear. Hell, Bill was no less afraid than Stan was. Bill understood the clown that haunted his nightmares, and the people that haunted him every waking second of life in general as they hesitated to hold hands in public despite how much Bill wanted to kiss Stan, no matter who was around.

Bill never judged him or teased him. And Bill wasn’t afraid of everything. He was strong and unbreakable, easy to lean on and never hesitant to support Stan if Stan so needed it.

Then they got the call. The phone rang and Bill picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey Bill. It’s Mike Hanlon.”

Bill’s eyebrows came together. “Who?”

“From Derry.” Bill was quiet. “Look Bill. Uh, IT’s back.”

The phone dropped. “Bill?” Stan called from the other room. There was no response. He shot up and to where Bill was, instantly a lot more nervous upon seeing Bill’s blank eyes and pale face. “Bill what’s wrong?” He heard a distant voice and looked down, eyes landing on the phone. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is Mike. Hanlon. Uh, is Bill there?”

“This is his-” he cut off then set his face. “This is his husband.” They’d been working on being more open about that one. Debated on it for a long time. It had gotten easier, especially as people got more and more accepting. Today, it wasn’t too big of a deal. Nothing compared to what it was when they were kids. It was even legal now. They’d gotten married a few months ago, after being together for the last thirty years or so. Give or take. Having shame about it now was just dumb.

The man on the other line was quiet for a second. Maybe a little surprised. “Uh, Stan?”

Stan froze. How did this man know who he was? “I’m sorry, who did you say you were again?”

The man sighed. “Mike Hanlon.” He seemed irritated. “Derry, Stan. I know it’s hard, but you have to remember. IT’s back. We promised, back then. You have to come back. We have to defeat it this time. For real.”

Stan’s brain was having a hard time connecting the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he was trying to solve. “It? What is...” And then it clicked. He felt his whole body go numb. His brain went fuzzy. His heart seemed to be beating so fast it couldn’t be felt at all. Or maybe it had just stopped beating.

No. Not this. Anything but this.

“Stan?”

“Yes.” Stan was in full business mode, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. “When should I come?”

“Immediately,” Mike answered, seeming relieved. Maybe he’d had a rough time with the others too. Others? What others? Stan’s brain was having a hard time thinking through the utter panic consuming. He looked to Bill for comfort and was even more horrified to realize this is why Bill was currently bent over, hands on the table in front of him and head dangling limply between his shoulders. Stan wouldn’t be able to look for safety this time.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“Perfect.” Then he gave Stan some information about some restaurant. An address, time, and date. “See you there?”

“For sure.” Stan hung up, a little piece of paper with all the information on it in his hand. He looked at the paper. Then he placed the phone down very calmly, the piece of paper next to it. Bill might go.

Stan wouldn’t.

But it was Bill. Surely he’d find a way to talk Stan into going. Bill always did. What if Bill couldn’t talk him into it? What if he couldn’t be talked into doing... anything?

“I’m going to take a bath.” He looked at Bill, but the blonde man was still panicking.

Bill did look up just as Stan was about to settle for no response. “Y-yeah. That’s f...” He blinked, both of them becoming pale. Bill hadn’t stuttered in a very, very long time. Probably about ten years. Give o take. “That’s f-fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Stan went to the bathroom, getting undressed as the tub filled up with water. He climbed in, letting the warm water soothe the guilt that came with his decision. Just a little. He closed his eyes for a second, taking an even breath before opening them again. “I’m sorry, Bill.” The light reflected off of something in his hand. He moved the shiny thing toward his other wrist...

Bill suddenly got a terrible feeling in his gut. He’d been remembering a small boy with a red balloon and a yellow jacket. A little boy that used to mean everything to him. Someone he’d taken for granted before he’d lost him, and with him, nearly everything else. He was so trapped in those memories, he hadn’t even thought of Stan. Everything else had been too overwhelming.

Stanley never took baths. He always took showers.

Bill was running before he could even form another coherent thought. The door flung open and Stan jumped, splashing water on the floor causing him to grip the thing he was holding a little tighter. They locked eyes.

Instantly Stan started crying. Bill tripped closer, reaching over to turn the faucet off before scooping Stan into his arms, pulling them closer despite the water and how it soaked Bill, who was fully dressed. “I’ sorry, Bill,” Stan sobbed, shaking in his arms.

“I-it’s okay,” Bill stuttered weakly, trying not to think about what would have happened if he’d been even a second later. He failed. He thought about that thing, hovering just over the skin of Stan’s wrist. He thought about what this room would have looked like covered in Stan’s blood. “P-please d-d-d-” he cut off, gasping. “I can’t lo-I can’t- you can’t-” He blinked, trying to calm down. “You have to go with me. I c- I can’t lose you too. P-pl-pluh-” He grunted softly. “Please Sta- Stan.”

“I swear, Bill.” As always, Bill could talk Stan into anything.

Even staying alive.

Later, as they were packing, Stan came over and touched Bill on the shoulder. The blonde man looked over, still frowning. Eyes haunted. Stan wondered if his eyes looked the same. “I’m sorry Bill. I... I can’t imagine how it would have been for you, finding me... like that. On top of everything.”

Bill shook his head. “I d-don’t blame you.” He coughed, looking away as his eyes glazed over with tears.

For the first time, Stan pulled Bill into his arms. Bill buried his face in Stan’s chest. He hid behind Stan for the first time in their relationship. Stan had to be the one to comfort. He’d calmed down a lot. Seeing Bill had cleared his mind a little. Thinking about the consequences to his actions had made him think a little more. He was still terrified. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but he’d faced plenty of scary things. He cold handle anything with Bill by his side.

Unfortunately, Bill hadn’t reached the same conclusion. He was finally facing a fear that had toppled him completely over, and he couldn’t pull himself back up. He was beginning to worry no one could. “You know, wuh-once you asked me how nothing scared me. How I was so untouched by what people thought a-about-about us.” Bill clung to Stan. “Th-That wasn’t true, Stan. S...So much scares me. When I send a book in to a p-p-publisher. When I’m starting a new muh-movie and I’m not sure how the actors will be or h...how it’s all going to work when it comes to uh-applying the script. When someone new finds out I’m married to a muh-man.” He shook his head and Stan rubbed his back, letting him talk. Being patient through the stuttering. “Before I... always felt like nothing could touch me when I was with you, Stan.” He finally managed to not stutter, relaxing him a little more. “With you, I felt safe.” His face contorted. “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same with you.”

Stan felt like he’d been slapped. He leaned close to Bill, making sure his husband could hear him. “You are enough, Bill. That was never the problem. I was an idiot to think that nothing scared you. That nothing bothered you. And it makes me so happy to know that I can help you handle this, in any way. I just...” His eyes watered as well and his grip on Bill tightened. “I’m such a coward.”

Bill sighed, then sniffed. “Let’s be cowards together, huh? Please?”

Stan smiled. “Yeah okay. This time I really do promise.”

“Forever?” Bill whispered.

“Absolutely,” Stan agreed. And suddenly he was a lot more at ease. Because he and Bill had something none of the others did. He had someone who would be by his side as long as he was allowed to be. Someone who not only loved him but understood him. Stan didn’t have to make up some lame excuse to go to Derry to Bill, because Bill would be right there with him.

And damn it all, Stan would make sure he really would always be able to, because Bill made him feel safe too. From then on, they’d have each other’s backs. IT or no.

#william denbrough #bill denbrough #stanley uris #stan uris #stan x bill #stan uris x bill denbrough #losers club #it #stephen king #stenbrough

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thetourguidebarbie · 5 years ago

Note

You know that angsty KC thing you wrote some time ago? The one you said there was a possibility for more? The one that ended with Caroline’s neck snapped by witches? And klaus was like a galaxy away or whatever? It was great and I am still asking myself what will happen next and I remembered that you said that there could be a ‘next’. So pls if you can, and have some time could you maybe write a part 2? And an happy ending Cause God knows I can’t take more angst...

Sequel to this drabble. NSFW. Tagging @itsnotacrimetoloveyou @goldcaught @sunshineandfangs @storm-pirate and @honestgrins who I believe all asked for the sequel. Mention of what Damon did to Caroline but nothing graphic. Hope you enjoy!!

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

Caroline stirred slowly, groaning as she tested whether she could move all her limbs and extremities. She didn’t feel any restraints or the lingering ache of vervain. Her sweater felt heavy, the temperature hot and humid despite the lack of sounds that indicated being outdoors. She opened her eyes slowly, noting the cell around her. Grey stone walls, no windows, a single ceiling light, heavy metal door, no furniture, and complete silence.

Definitely not the best prison she’d been in, but it hopefully wouldn’t be the worst either.

She’d been kidnapped more than a few times over the decades since she’d left Mystic Falls, and she’d learned there were two kinds of Klaus Enemies. Some of them wanted to bargain with Klaus or make some sort of agreement, which meant that they wouldn’t kill her, at least until they got what they wanted, and they all died before that happened. The more dangerous ones were the revenge-seekers. They were generally content to torture her on video or make her talk to Klaus on the phone to prove that she was still alive, playing a sick sort of cat and mouse game until he managed to catch up with them. They usually had a plan to kill her in the end, and the closer Klaus got to finding her, the less certain it was that she’d come out alive unless he pulled off a flawless rescue.

His plans had gone awry only once and he’d managed to resurrect her in a relatively timely manner, but both of them preferred to avoid that particular outcome.

She’d bet any number of valuable things that her kidnappers were soldiers in the human army that had tried to lure Klaus into a fake negotiation. Hopefully they were just trying to leverage her to get a better deal from him, a rookie mistake but she could respect the nerve, rather than outright torturing her.

She looked up at the door when it opened slowly, the man in the doorway lingering just shy of coming into the room. Likely a magic barrier then. They both remained silent, just staring at each other. The seconds stretched to what felt like minutes, though there wasn’t really any way to tell, and though she was getting impatient, she knew better than to break the silence. That showed weakness.

“Caroline Forbes?” he asked finally, his voice lower than she’d expected.

“Yep.”

“Where’s the doppelganger?”

Caroline’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline. That was a question she hadn’t heard for awhile. She hadn’t seen Elena in centuries, even before she’d gone to rescue Klaus. “I have no idea,” she said truthfully.

“Weren’t you friends?”

“We lost touch,” Caroline said blandly, not wanting to bore her captor with the whole ‘supposed best friend dated my rapist’ story. “Is that all? Because if it was you can totally let me go now and we’ll call it even.”

“It’s all right. I’m patient. I’ll wait until you’re ready to reconsider.”

She watched in complete disbelief as he slammed the door in her face.

“You have got to be kidding me. I honestly don’t know!” she shouted at the shut door, groaning when it didn’t open and backing up to lean against the stone wall. “Guess history does always repeat itself,” she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to say positive.

She had no doubt Klaus would comb through all three solar systems to find her if he had to, would hire any and every witch he could find to track her down. The question was whether they’d bothered to send him a ransom note if it wasn’t about him. If he had no idea where they’d taken her and they hadn’t left any clues, that could definitely be a problem.

Whatever. She’d do her best to escape before anything bad happened. If they were after Elena and hadn’t bothered to do any research on her other than know about their childhood friendship, it was likely they’d vastly underestimated her. Hopefully she could use that to her advantage.

Maybe she’d let Klaus lick the blood of her captors from her body if he arrived in time.

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

Klaus frowned as Caroline’s phone went to voicemail for the third time after ringing out. She’d seemed less than pleased on the phone, but it wasn’t like her to ignore his calls. He hung up, barking for his hybrid to drive faster and flipping the phone around in his hand, staring out at the rain and trying not to panic.

Leaving Caroline for longer than a day was less than ideal. She did go on the occasional multi-week getaway with friends, but he always made her promise to stay with at least one other person and text him once a day just to let him know she was alive. They’d learned to compromise over the years, especially once Caroline made absolutely clear that if he wanted her to stay he had to stop being ‘red flag central’ about monitoring her whereabouts, but it was difficult for him to shake that something wasn’t quite right in this particular case.

His suspicion turned to full-blown worry once his hybrid guards’ phones each went to voicemail as well.

“Let me out and meet me there,” Klaus ordered, out of the door as soon as the hybrid pulled over and speeding to the house as fast as he could. He swore when he found the door unlocked, punched a hole in the wall when he couldn’t detect Caroline’s scent on the property beyond the faint lingering trace in their bedroom, and felt his rage grow when he saw his hybrid with his throat slit on the ground, his heart on the floor beside it. He inhaled and frowned when he found the blood scentless, his alarm bells ringing even more fervently when he realized it was likely spelled to keep Caroline from being tipped off.

Witches.

He pulled out his phone, easily finding the number and holding it out to display the hologram of Bonnie’s face when she answered.

“Klaus,” she greeted, her tone cool. Though he and the Bennett witch had grown to be on better terms than they had previously, he was under no delusion that it wasn’t solely due to Caroline. Witches tended to hold grudges, and Bonnie was no exception.

“Caroline’s missing.”

He appreciated the clear effort it took for Bonnie to restrain herself from asking him whether Caroline had finally come to her senses and left, instead running a hand through her hair and giving him a distrustful glance. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Text me the details of how you managed to let her get kidnapped so that I don’t have to hate you to your face.”

She hung up, leaving Klaus to wish, not for the first time, that Caroline wasn’t fond enough of the Bennett witch to object to just a spot of torture.

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

“Out of curiosity, why do you need Elena?” Caroline rasped, her throat burning from lack of blood.

The minion tying her to the coffin paused, clearly considering whether to answer her question. She hadn’t been able to detect a heartbeat and he didn’t smell like dinner, so she suspected he was a species of humanoid alien that didn’t have consumable blood, though the light was too low to see which one.

“Just a spell,” he said casually, his accent thick. He sounded like he might be from somewhere in Solar 4, which was a bad sign. She and Klaus were most definitely not welcome in that sector. Hopefully he wasn’t an avid political junkie and wouldn’t know who she was. He tugged the chain to test the strength of it and she hissed at the pain from the scratch of it against her skin.

“Why?”

“The spell is a bodyswap. He found a few friendly vampires willing to make a bargain. In exchange for the doppelganger being returned to their care, they would give us her blood. As I’m sure you’re aware, traveller blood is needed to cast the spell.”

“What vampire made the deal?” she asked slowly, already pretty sure of the answer, and when the captor confirmed her suspicion she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

Damon Salvatore would be a perpetual thorn in her side. She’d stopped Klaus from killing Stefan out of a misplaced sense of nostalgia, but if he was going to keep resurrecting his brother indefinitely then they both needed to go, toxic but fondly remembered high school friendships be damned.

At least this meant Elena had hopefully finally come to her senses and ditched both of them. Good for her.

“Well, unfortunately for you and Damon, Elena and I lost touch like, a century ago, so I can’t help you find her. No blood, no spell. You might as well just let me go.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” a familiar voice said from across the room. Her body felt heavy, her limbs too leadened to move even without the chains securing them to the coffin, but she managed to turn her head enough to catch sight of the total asshole standing in the doorway.

“You,” she hissed, attempting to struggle against her bonds as the human approached, the sound of his heartbeat giving her a surge of energy, every instinct she had screaming at her to pounce. He’d been a general in the last uprising, though not a very good one, and his army had been dealt with quickly and efficiently. She’d disagreed at the time with Klaus’s methods, knowing that if they used the guy’s girlfriend as an example it would just escalate everything and make it worse, but Klaus had worn her down. He’d been doing it for centuries, he reminded her. He knew how to take care of a few enemies.

“It’s just one girl,” Klaus had said at the time as they rode the ship back to their home base, his arms tight around her as he nuzzled her neck, nipping her ear with a fang. “He’ll get over it.”

She felt so stupid. She’d known that the general wouldn’t let go of his grudges as easily as Klaus expected, and she should have insisted that they find another way. He was clearly not over it, and now she was clearly going to pay the price.

“When I escape, and I will, I will drain all of you dry and I’ll make it hurt,” Caroline spat.

The general laughed. “You won’t have the chance. We’re going to leave you here to dessicate nice and slow while we track down the doppelganger, or find a witch who can use expression instead as a last resort. Whatever witch we use will swap us, and you’ll get thrown in that pretty dungeon over there to waste away in a human body while I track down Klaus, who will be so pleased with your return that he won’t even notice the white oak stake until it’s through his heart.”

She felt every bit of her insides turn to ice, her breath catching in her throat. “The white oak stakes are gone. The trees were destroyed with Earth.”

“I got the last one. Also part of the bargain with the Salvatores.”

Ugh. She should have known.

“Once I’ve taken care of him I’ll have a ready-made army who’s already loyal to you.“

“He won’t believe you,” she said, her thirst making it harder to speak. “He knows me.” Sure, she’d been a little grumpy lately because of the distance, but Klaus knew her idiosyncrasies better than anyone.

“You’d be surprised at how far people are willing to go to suspend their disbelief if it gets them what they want, especially if they’re distracted by other activities.”

Caroline felt her heart race, the reality that not only could this work, but she and Klaus could be in very deep trouble, crashing into her like a punch to the gut. Her eyes burned with tears. They’d killed the bodyguards Klaus had left with her and she had no idea how long it would take for him to get back. He had no way of knowing what happened.

She was alone.

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

“I can’t believe you lost her,” Bonnie said grumpily, her fingers tapping on the table as she looked out the window of the ship, and he could tell she was deliberately avoiding his gaze. There was no scenery to take in, after all. The endless inky blackness around them perfectly reflected Klaus’s foul mood.

“I didn’t lose her,” he ground out.

“I mean, she wasn’t exactly where you left her,” Bonnie pointed out, shooting him a glare before staring intently at the map in her lap she was using to channel the tracking spell. He could see that the pages had begun to glow a bit brighter with magic, indicating that they were getting closer.

He bit back a retort to Bonnie’s rather rude implication that this was somehow his fault, knowing that Caroline wouldn’t appreciate it if the first thing she learned post-torture was that he and Bonnie had gotten into a spat. “How long?”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll go give the pilot the coordinates.”

He ran a hand through his hair as Bonnie got out of her seat to go talk to the hybrid manning the ship, every inch of him on edge. He’d been alive for over 1,500 years, long enough that months felt like mere moments in the grand scheme of things. Seasons passed in the blink of an eye, the concept of time a measurement that now seemed insignificant at best. He had eternity to do whatever he pleased, and the pastime of watching the mortals around him struggle to live their lives to the fullest while they still could had lost any appeal long ago.

However, whenever Caroline was in danger, time seemed to return to dragging on the way it had when he was young. Every moment was precious. The knowledge that the difference between Caroline being alive and being ripped away from him could be a single second was a terrifying reminder that though the mortals struggled to survive, the luxury of endless opportunity out of reach for them, at least if they made a fatal mistake it all ended soon enough.

If he lost Caroline because of his certainty that he knew best how to protect her, because of his arrogance and unwillingness to compromise, he would have an unending eternity to never forgive himself.

“Take off your broody face,” Bonnie said, her voice cutting through his dark mood.

“I’m not brooding.”

“Aren’t you though?” Bonnie asked dryly, sitting down next to him. Her expression softened when she saw his face, and Klaus turned away, unwilling to let her see his weakness. His fear. “She’ll be fine,” Bonnie said reassuringly, her voice holding a confidence Klaus didn’t at all share.

“We don’t know that.”

“If she was dead the map wouldn’t be able to track her down,” Bonnie said patiently. “And even if she was, we’ve pulled her back from the other side before. It was a huge pain in the ass and you totally made me want to kill you once or twice, but we managed.”

“Right,” Klaus said noncommittally, flicking a piece of dried blood out from under his nail.

“Do you have to do that in front of me?” Bonnie complained. “It’s so gross.”

“The longer you let blood dry there the harder it is to remove.”

“Then wash your hands,” Bonnie said exasperatedly, huffing and turning back to her map. “Men. Ugh.”

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

Everything hurt.

The wood of the open coffin was hard against her back, her heightened nerves making the scratches in the wood feel like sandpaper against her oversensitive skin. Her lungs hurt when she tried to breathe, and she could feel her muscles growing weaker by the second even as she tried to struggle uselessly against the cold hard metal that bound her. She could hear voices in the hallway bartering over witchy services and the combination of that and hunger was making her head pound.

It wasn’t long before they seemed to reach an agreement, and she eyed the witch who came in with disdain, struggling to keep her eyes open as she felt the last dregs of energy leave her.

She gathered every piece of false bravado she could, taking a shaky breath. “It won’t work. Klaus will find out. Your deaths will be slow and painful. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

Caroline had barely gasped out, “Klaus?” before she felt the rush of him go by her and the witch was crumpled on the stone floor with her neck snapped.

“What did they do to you? Were there wolves?” he asked sharply, his eyes roving her body to check for a bite even as he bent to free her. Caroline took a shaky breath, flinching in pain as the chains scraped against her skin when Klaus ripped them.

“No. Just hungry,” Caroline wheezed, coughing around the words, her throat too dry to explain more.

He pulled her up to cradle her against his chest, sitting on the coffin she’d been chained to and steadying her in his lap before pressing his wrist to her lips. “Drink, sweetheart.”

Her fangs were through his skin before he’d even finished. She was unable to suppress a moan as the blood hit her tongue, her pulse pounding in her ears as the rush of magic surged through her veins, the gashes on her arms knitting closed, her skin regaining some of its color. His eyes never left her face as he watched her feed, his fingers carding through her hair.

“You could have at least whooshed me with you,” Bonnie complained from the doorway, her breathing harsh as if she’d been running. “Oh my god.”

“She’ll be alright,” Klaus assured her quickly. “Everyone else in the building, however...”

“Revenge, we know,” Bonnie said impatiently, bending down to inspect Caroline herself. “No magic stuff?”

“They didn’t get to it,” Caroline said, curling into Klaus as much as possible, inhaling his scent and internally repeating to herself that he was fine. They were fine. Nothing bad had happened.

But if he hadn’t come in time...

“Let’s go home,” Klaus said softly, clearly sensing that she was too upset to explain. “You can tell us what happened on the ship, all right?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He held her for a few moments even after she’d recovered her strength, his nose buried in her hair, and she curled against him, listening for the reassuring thump of his undead heartbeat. She could hear Bonnie moving in the background, objects rustling as though she was trying to figure out what the plan had been.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Klaus whispered, his voice so low that Caroline doubted Bonnie had heard. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Technically I did have bodyguards,” Caroline pointed out with a strained smile, shifting against him to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “And I love you too.”

“They’re lucky they were killed by the enemy. Their deaths by my hand for losing you would have been much more painful.”

“If it’s really bothering you we can resurrect them and you can kill them again,” Caroline teased, rolling her eyes when Klaus looked more thoughtful than amused. “I was just joking.”

“Were they going to do a body swap spell?” Bonnie interrupted, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Caroline said tiredly, tangling her fingers with Klaus’s when he stiffened. “They were going to let me die of starvation in a human body while they used mine to kill Klaus and then take over the army we built.”

She tried her best to keep her tone flat, to not let herself listen to what had come out of her own mouth and risk the fear of what could have been making her break down, but she felt Klaus stiffen against her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that I can’t be killed?”

“They had the last white oak stake,” Caroline said, watching Klaus’s face darken.

“Did they, now?”

“He showed me.”

“It’s probably a fake,” Klaus said, his overconfidence kind of making her want to scream.

“I mean it looked pretty real when he showed me,” Caroline said with forced patience, shifting in Klaus’s arms. “And even if it was a regular stake, you’d still trust not-me enough that he could have stabbed you with it, and it would still kill you for long enough for them to...lock you up, or something.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, love,” he promised.

She swallowed her skepticism, not wanting to have a deep conversation about their recent lack of contact in front of her already anti-Klaus best friend and some fresh corpses. “Can we go?”

“I want to take a look around in case they have anything useful,” Bonnie said. “I’ll keep an eye out for the stake too. Can I meet you back on the ship in an hour or so?”

“Of course. I’ll send a hybrid to escort you,” Klaus said, standing up with Caroline still in his arms.

“I can walk, you kn--” Caroline began, her protests interrupted by Klaus speeding them back to the ship in a blink of an eye, carrying her into their usual suite and setting her down on the bed.

“How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

“Achy,” she admitted, shifting slightly against the mattress. “But just some more blood, maybe?”

“I’ll get you a glass,” he said, reaching to squeeze her hand before leaving the room, returning moments later with a glass, which he handed her. Her mouth watered at the scent, but she forced herself to sip slowly, needing something to do with her hands.

“I’ll kill them all,” he promised. “They’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know,” she said, trying not to sound too irritated despite being somehow annoyed that that was the first thing he wanted to say. “I’m fine, though.”

“And I’m glad of that,” he said slowly, clearly sensing that something was off beyond her physical injuries and the mental toll it took to be tortured. “What’s troubling you, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, setting her mug down on the bedside table before patting the spot next to her. He eyed her warily before kicking off his boots and sitting beside her, their thighs pressed together, his hand resting on her knee. “Caroline?”

“What if you hadn’t gotten there in time?” Caroline asked softly, her voice hitching. Klaus looked vaguely alarmed by the question, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I did, sweetheart. You’re safe now.”

“But what if you hadn’t?”

“Then I’d have figured it out, and I’d have come for you.”

He sounded so confident, so sure, but somehow that only made her more upset, and she felt her eyes heat as tears built. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “I like to think after the last few hundred years I know you rather well.”

She let out a slightly watery laugh, sniffling when the tears started falling. It was probably the thousandth time she’d cried in front of Klaus, and he still made the same alarmed expression as though he was frantically trying to figure out how to make her stop. “Caroline, I...what...”

“Are you sure?” she asked again, sniffling. “Because we haven’t seen each other for longer than a few hours in like, weeks. Months, maybe?”

“But we’ve been together for over two hundred years,” he pointed out, looking more confused by the moment.

“Yeah, so you trust me, right?” Caroline pressed, wiping her eyes. “Like, if you’d come home and fake me had just jumped you, you would have gone along with it, and then he would have stabbed you with the white oak stake, and--”

“I’d know,” he said, the finality in his tone annoying her even more. “I promise. I’d be safe and I’d find you. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“But--”

“What’s actually bothering you, love?” he pressed, studying her face.

She huffed, wiping at her cheeks and trying to blink the tears away. “I just...I don’t know if you would.”

“What?” he asked, sounding more offended than she’d ever heard him. It would have made her laugh if she wasn’t so upset. “Of course I--That’s...Caroline. You can’t possibly think that I don’t care enough to notice when you’re not yourself?”

“No, like, I know you care about me,” Caroline said reassuringly, grabbing his hand. “I just feel like we don’t really get to spend time together anymore.”

“We’ll have eternity together, sweetheart. Especially once the war is over.”

“Yeah, a war that’s been going on for decades. Full offense, but I’d like to spend my eternity with you, not waiting for you,” Caroline burst out. “Do you know how it makes me feel for you to just leave me behind to twiddle my thumbs and do nothing? When you leave me out of all of your semi-evil plots and treat me like I have no value other than being your...your girlfriend? Or whatever? I don’t want to be an afterthought or taken for granted, and I feel like you’re dangerously close to that.”

She felt a bit guilty when she watched his expression close off, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he processed, clearly weighing his words, and he swallowed before he spoke, the only sign that he wasn’t as collected as he looked. “How long have you felt that way?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t know. A while.”

“I wish you’d said something,” he said, wincing at the look on her face. “Not that I shouldn’t have been paying more attention, of course.”

“I mean, you haven’t really been around to notice,” she bit out, regretting her words when he recoiled slightly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“No, you’re right,” he interrupted firmly. “I haven’t, and I apologize.”

She let out a sharp breath. “No, that wasn’t nice of me. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been busy with everything.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful, and she took the opportunity to lean against him, tucking herself against his side. “What can I do to acquit myself?” he asked, and she laughed softly.

“No more crazy commute meetings or solo murder sprees,” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face at the way his expression darkened, likely because he thought she was attempting to get him to give up the war entirely. She turned slightly to sling a leg over his lap, cupping his cheeks, the stubble familiar and rough beneath her palms. “Not unless I get to rip out a few hearts with you. Understood?”

He smiled slightly, his hands landing on her hips. “Understood.”

She bent to kiss him softly, but he pulled back what felt like much too soon, making her frown. “What?”

“I never want you to think even for a moment that you are anything less than my first priority or for you to feel that I’m taking you for granted. Nor do I wish to give you the impression that I don’t value your counsel, or that I would prefer you to be left waiting rather than always at my side. Nothing has come more easily to me than loving you, Caroline. I need to trust that you’ll tell me if you’re feeling neglected so that I may remind you of that.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat at the clear affection in his eyes, the way his voice curled around her name in a way that made warmth bloom in her chest even after all their years together. She’d missed the way her heart would skip a beat when he looked at her, everything seeming to fade away other than the intoxicating rush of how he made her feel.

“I can do that,” she promised, slightly breathlessly, and he gave her the dimpled grin that was uniquely hers, the one that only emerged when they were alone and wrapped up in their own little world.

“Good,” he said, pecking her on the lips and shifting underneath her to get comfortable, settling against the headboard, his palm sliding underneath her top to rest on the base of her spine. “I should also note, again, that I object to the term ‘girlfriend’. It’s juvenile.”

Caroline huffed. They’d had that argument what felt like over a hundred times, but neither could come up with a better title. ‘Partner’ reminded Caroline of cowboys (which had made Klaus snort brandy up his nose when she’d complained about it, and she’d only stopped the ensuing explanation of historically accurate cowboys by shoving her tongue down his throat). ‘Lover’ was too sappy, even if Taylor Swift had sort of brought it back for a hot second. They weren’t married. ‘Significant other’ was too long and formal. They’d given up about a decade into their relationship. Caroline had settled for ‘girlfriend/boyfriend’ and Klaus simply expected everyone to know that she was his and be respectful of that, lest their heads be lopped off.

Multiple heads had been lopped off.

It had been a thing.

She hummed noncommittally, deciding not to get drawn into a discussion about it, instead wriggling out of his grip and stripping off her shirt. “I need a shower. I’m covered in blood and dirt.”

“Of course, love. Do you want company?”

She bit her lip, considering. She still felt gross, the remains of the dirt on the coffin and the blood of her captors still sticking to her skin. Almost more unsettling was the knowledge of how close she’d come to having someone else inhabit her body, what they’d planned to do with it. Even though they hadn’t succeeded, the idea of it still made her feel ill, taking up what she felt was too much space in her mind but refusing to budge. She swallowed.

“I’ll be here when you’re done, sweetheart. Just call if you need me,” Klaus said, clearly reading her answer on her face. Klaus was far from stupid, had likely put together where her mind had gone. They’d body-swapped before as a sex thing, but the idea of someone she didn’t know wearing her as a costume without her permission, of being inside of her, was such a violation. It was something she’d had multiple conversations about with Klaus when he’d proposed a body swap for subterfuge as a war strategy. She’s put her foot down. Hard. The idea of it still made her queasy, and he knew it.

She gave him a weak smile, slipping into the bathroom and turning on the spray. The water turned a deep rusty color as it dripped down from her body, the heat flushing her skin. It felt good to have everything washed away, the smears of blood over what had been gashes on her arms and legs rinsing off to show the healed flesh underneath. She worked the bubbles down her body almost mechanically, the indulgently expensive hair products she favored slick under her fingers as she worked them into her blonde curls to make them soft and smooth again.

She could hear Klaus shifting in bed, his fingers tapping against what was probably his tablet, waiting for her to emerge.

She knew that just the talk they had wouldn’t be enough in the long term. Letting herself grow so resentful without bringing it up had been a mistake, one she knew better than to make after being in a relationship with him for this long. It brought up all her old insecurities about clinginess and being too needy, ones she thought she’d outgrown centuries ago. Klaus had never made her feel like she was being too much, but that didn’t squash her deepest fears that one day he might.

But not today, she told herself firmly as she shut off the water, grabbing a fluffy towel and humming to herself as she dried her hair, trying to recenter herself.

“Feeling better, love?” he asked when she came out, his tone so determinedly casual that he had to have been making an effort not to sound too concerned.

“Yeah,” she said, pulling on some pajama bottoms and an old henley from the closet. “Move over.”

He obliged, lifting his arm so that she could lean against him, pushing a mug of blood into her hands. “Do you want to talk?” Klaus asked after a few seconds of her sipping from the mug in silence.

“I’m mostly all talked out,” she said, closing her eyes, cracking one open for a half-hearted glare when he chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

“I do,” he agreed, his thumb stroking the dimple in her elbow.

They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, Bonnie’s voice floating through. “Caroline?”

“Coming!” Caroline yelled for the benefit of Bonnie’s lack of supernatural hearing, swinging her legs out of bed and whooshing to let her in.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bonnie said, pulling her into a tight hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good,” Bonnie said, turning to look at Klaus, who was trying to leave them discreetly to give them a few moments of privacy (or because he anticipated squealing once they started catching up). “Don’t you want to know what I found out?”

“I suppose.”

“The white oak stake is definitely fake,” Bonnie said, squeezing Caroline hand as she slumped slightly, a good half of her stress evaporating all at once. “Damon probably just figured the guy would do his stalking for him and he and Elena would be far away by the time he found out the stake didn’t kill you.”

“Not too far for me to kill, however,” Klaus muttered. “And the ripper, I suppose. They’ve both become equally as bothersome. Pity. He used to be such—.”

“Fun. Yeah, we know, you used to have twinsies murder sprees in the twenties,” Bonnie interrupted impatiently. “We have heard every story more times than how many years we’ve been alive.”

Caroline snorted at the revolted look on Klaus’s face at the word “twinsies” and kind of wished she had a camera to capture it.

“Anything else, Bon?”

“Just some spellbooks and reagents. I’ll take them home to study.”

“Okay.”

“You should get some sleep, Care. I’m exhausted and I didn’t even get tortured.”

“I agree,” Klaus said, reaching to slip his arm around her waist. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

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

“Good morning,” Caroline muttered, tipping her head to the side to allow Klaus to nip her ear. “That feels nice.”

He laughed quietly, letting his blunt teeth drag along her earlobe and sucking on it lightly before moving to press a soft kiss to her lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said, her word dragging into a yawn. “Definitely a nicer wake-up call than yesterday.”

Though Klaus had stuck to his promise to wake her when they were dropping Bonnie off, she barely remembered what had happened, the memory blurry and consisting only of an agreement to call her best friend that afternoon when she’d recovered. She was pretty sure Klaus had carried her to bed when they had arrived to their house, since she didn’t remember their arrival.

“I should hope so.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after second sunrise,” he said, grinning at Caroline’s returning groan. “But we have a significant time difference, so you’ve been asleep quite awhile.”

“Where are we?”

“Sector eight. Our planet.”

She hummed, slinging a leg over his waist to pull herself on top of him and pressing her cheek to his bare chest. Their private planet meant top notch security and zero responsibilities. Perfect for more naps.

He pressed his palm lightly against the base of her spine, his other hand fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Still tired, love?”

“No. You’re just comfy.”

“Not hungry?”

“Not enough to let you move.”

“You should eat,” he said, beginning to move her off of him, presumably to get her some blood, but she shoved him back down, pressing soft kisses down the tattoo inked across his shoulder.

“Fine. Breakfast in bed?” she whispered between brushes of her lips, letting a fang scrape against the bird closest to his neck and flicking her tongue against the cut. She felt Klaus tense under her fingers, heard his swallow when she let out a satisfied hum at the taste of him.

“Are you offering?”

“Demanding,” she shot back, pushing herself up on her palms to look him in the eye. “It’s the least you can do.”

“I suppose,” he drawled, tilting his head to the side, his hand already drifting down to press against her thigh, gently nudging her legs apart. “Since you asked so nicely.”

“Jerk,” she muttered, more affectionately than insulting, and he groaned as she bent and sank her fangs into his neck, his nails curling to bite into her skin, his hips jerking up to grind shamelessly against her.

He’d never held back with her, never tried to restrain himself from reacting to her touches, never hesitated to show her exactly how much he wanted her. Even when they were just watching each other or he was teasing her with infuriatingly gentle brushes of his fingers against her skin or the light flick of his tongue just shy of where she needed it, she never felt the least bit of doubt of how much he loved her, loved being with her.

It was one of the many things she loved about him.

That, and how delicious his blood was on her tongue.

She could hear his harsh breathing, the way he whispered her name when she was on the edge of taking too much. She pulled back slowly, still dazed and high on the rush of it. He caught her lips with his, sucking lightly on her lower lip before tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging her head back to expose her neck. She shivered when he ran his tongue over her pulse and pressed a soft kiss to it, running his nose along the line of her throat to her ear, inhaling her scent. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Her entire body was pulsing with need, her nipples sensitive, her pussy aching. “I want you. Now.”

“Again, so demanding,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe.

“Oh, well, I guess if you don’t want to,” she teased, laughing when he flipped them over, already kissing his way down her body.

“You should know better than to think that there could be anything else I’d prefer to be doing,” he said softly, looking up to fully meet her eyes.

The moment felt heavier suddenly, his point clear. “I know,” she breathed.

He gave her a dimpled smile, one that was soft and rare and reserved for their most private moments. She felt all of the air leave her lungs, and she knew he could hear how his effect on her made her pulse race, the rush of it so quick it could have been a human’s for just a moment.

“And I do recall I promised to remind you.”

“You did.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh, his blunt teeth dragging along the skin for just a moment after, making her shiver, her eyes closing. “Look at me, Caroline.”

She fought to keep her eyes open, but as soon as she met his, she couldn't look away. He held her gaze as he began to lazily drag his fingertip back and forth across the back of her knee, smirking when she shivered. "What do you want me to do, love?"

Klaus had always had the ability to coax out confessions of things she craved. When she'd finally allowed herself to give into him, she'd been surprised by his attentiveness, his determination to convince her to tell him all of her filthiest desires. She'd never exactly been shy, but he'd managed to get her used to making demands, to be unashamed to ask for things she wanted. His light touch was a deliberate tease, designed to make her admit what she wanted from him.

"Make me come."

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, just shy of where she wanted his tongue. "I intend to. More than a few times, in fact."

"That's ambitious for someone who's been doing a lot more talking than touching."

"I'll get to it, sweetheart," he promised, sliding his hands underneath her thighs to push them apart and back, nipping at the exposed skin. "And if I recall correctly you do like it when I talk."

"You do recall correctly and you know that," she said impatiently. "But right now I want your tongue on me."

"Good," he murmured, bending to let a fang drag across her inner thigh frustratingly close to her entrance, the burn of the venom only making the sensation of his tongue sweeping along the cut even sweeter. "Watch."

She inhaled sharply at the first flick of his tongue against her clit, the soft hum of satisfaction when she rolled her hips instinctively to draw him closer. She kept her eyes locked on his as he swiped his tongue across her entrance just the way she liked it, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips to pull her closer, groaning at the taste of her arousal on his tongue. The barest hint of shame she used to feel for melting against his touch had long been overcome, and it was almost amusing to remember how hard she fought to pretend that he wasn't exactly what she wanted, that his tongue against her clit would result in anything other than her writhing against him demanding more.

He knew how to draw her out, to tease her for hours as she begged for release, but he knew better than to make her wait this time. Her first orgasm was quick and almost harsh, her ragged breathing muffled only by the rip of the sheets as she dug her nails into the mattress. He barely waited for her to come down from her high to build her up again, watching with dark, wanting eyes as he brought her to the edge twice more before she sank bonelessly against the mattress, watching him with glazed eyes. "Good?" he asked, his expression as smug as ever.

Her undead heart was racing in her chest, her entire body still thrumming with need. "More. Your cock this time."

"Bossy."

She raised an eyebrow, reaching to wrap her hand around his cock, grinning at his low groan when she began to stroke him lazily. "You want bossy?"

"I want you," he shot back, the thickness of his voice and the flash of gold in his eyes taking a response that could have been cheesy and turning into anything but. His cock was hard and hot in her hand, the twitch of his shoulders a certain tell that he was growing impatient. She knew he'd likely been burning with anticipation for hours now, waiting for her to wake and recover so that he could touch her for the first time in weeks. He'd missed her as much as she'd missed him, and she knew that. The way he drank her in now was a sure sign that he'd take her any way he could, and that if she didn't decide what she wanted in the next few seconds she'd be pinned beneath him with his fangs buried in her neck as he took her hard and fast.

Not a bad outcome, but one she wanted to save for later.

He let her flip them, watched her with hungry eyes as she got up on her knees and shifted to straddle him, nosing the line of his neck as he shifted to sit against the headboard, pulling over with him, his cock hard against her belly. "I want you too," she said, the admission as easy as breathing, tipping her head to the side to allow Klaus to press light kisses against her neck.

He groaned out her name when she reached to stroke him a few times, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down, his lips catching hers in lazy kisses as they found a familiar rhythm. He pressed his forehead against hers, his fingertips branding her hips as he filled her, chuckling at the soft sigh that escaped her lips when he began to move faster, her head falling back to allow him to run his tongue along her pulse point. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered against her neck. “The feel of your skin beneath my fingers, the way your breath catches when I touch you..."

"I missed you too."

She hissed when his fingertip found his bite wound on the back of her thigh and shifted slightly to try to soothe the burn of it, the skin pulsing with a sharp pain that was starting to overtake the pleasure it gave her. He always seemed to know exactly when the venom began to grow to be too much, and he tipped his head to the side, a clear invitation.

"Good, sweetheart," he praised as she drank, stroking her hair with a gentle touch even as his hips moved faster, rougher, just the way she liked it. The more he touched her the hungrier she became to rediscover every part of him. "Close?"

She pulled back from his neck and nodded, letting her fangs retract and humming her assent before burying her face in his shoulder, moaning when his hand tangled in her curls to tug at them gently, making her clench around him. She could feel her release building quickly now, her toes curling, fingernails digging into his back. She could hear him breathing harshly, hissing out her name when she fell apart around him, coming inside of her moments later. She stayed comfortably pressed against him as she waited for the rush to fade, humming in contentment when he began to lazily stroke her spine, burying his nose in her hair.

"Can we just stay in bed today?" she asked, making no move to slide off of him.

"Of course, love. Still tired?"

"No, I'm good. Just lazy."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek and helping her shift to a more comfortable position draped across his body. "Well, I'm perfectly content to stay here for as long as you like."

"Don't you have important supervillain meetings?" she teased. "To terrorize your enemies and put all of the werewolfy predator fear in their hearts?"

"None that are so important to necessitate us interrupting the well-deserved vacation I promised you."

"Good. I know you always say we have eternity for vacations, but--"

"Even eternity is too short to waste a moment that I could be spending with you," he interrupted, his tone much too formal for the total Disney content that had just come out of his mouth.

She snorted, turning on her side to look at him, reaching to stroke the stubble on his cheek. "I know you hate it when I say you're cute--"

"I do."

"But that was cute. Cheesy, but cute."

"I am neither cheesy nor cute, love. I'm--."

"Yeah, yeah. The nightmare of many. Supernatural boogeyman. Evil supervillain predator who rips out all the hearts. You can still be cute with me. Those aren't mutually exclusive."

She grinned at how offended he looked. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, not by a long shot, but it never failed to push his buttons.

Exactly her plan.

"It's okay to be a cute supervillain predator," she continued, trying to fight down a smile and mostly failing. "Everyone is a multi-faceted person with a lot of layers and nuance, and--"

His smile was all teeth, his eyes flashing gold. "Don't you think it may be unwise to insult the most powerful creature you've met, sweetheart?"

Her hair brushed against the bird tattoo inked along his shoulder as she bent to nip his ear. "Why? Do you bite?"

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline drabble #klaroline smut #klaroline fanfiction #mydrabbles #my fanfiction #anon #ask #answer

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shawnies-girl · 6 years ago

Note

hey that ck kitchen pic has got me wanting a “making breakfast and Shawn walks in” imagine so badly as cheesy as that is. idk if you do smut but that’d be a-ok with me (just pls don’t leave the food cooking on the stove lol) thank you thank you for being a blessing

Request combined with this: Plzzz write something about Shawn’s pictures for CalvinKlein cause DAMN could be abt ANYTHING just plz do it- @kurreapormaranet

Lazy Sunday

pairing: Shawn x reader

⇢ genre: smut that’s it lol it’s graphic so beware

⇢ summary: The morning after leads to something more in the early hours of the morning for Shawn and his girlfriend.

The sun cast a warm glow through the window in your bead room. Slowly opening your eyes to the haze you become aware of your surroundings. A montage of the happenings of last night replay over in your head. With a shiver You look down to see the covers are off and so are your underclothes, in-fact the clothing is in piles across the floor leading to the bead. To the side of you are tuffs of brown hair that belong to your boyfriend Shawn. Shifting in the bead closing your eyes again you bask in the feeling. No commitments for the next three days for either of you. Total bliss for 73 hours. You cant remember the last time you had that much time to yourselves. A shiver runs down your spine when Shawn shifts pulling you way from your thoughts.

The glow in the room gets brighter the longer you stay still and slip into sleep again. His arm moves across your body pulling you close. The warmth of his skin providing a feeling of security. Sadly you were unable to fall back asleep due to the soft gurgling in your stomach. Reluctantly you carefully free your tangled limbs. Your toes curl as they touch the cold ground. You turn to make sure Shawn is still sleeping and make your way to the kitchen. The moment you arrive in your kitchen your greeted with sunshine poring in the window. Opening the fridge you get out the ingredients to make some eggs. Setting the stuff on the counter you move to get the pan. A few minutes go buy and the stove is finally hot. You crack the eggs into the pan and discard the shells.

In the bedroom Shawn slowly stirs awake. The light in the room causing him to squint his eyes. Looking to your side of the bed he sees your gone. A brief look of confusion crosses his features as he sees your not next to him. He sits up in the bead still trying to wake up. As he looks around the room he’s reminded of last night. Your clothes from yesterday lay strobe across the floor in various piles along with his. All of this due to the busy evening you had together after he arrived home from the airport. Memories of limbs and lips clashing together form in his head making a warmth spread through his body. He finds himself so consumed in the memory that he doesn’t realize he’s gone hard in his boxers until he here’s clanking outside of the door. A heavy sigh fills the air as he moves to go to the bathroom.

As you finish the eggs and put them aside you here the opening and closing of a door. You smile knowing that Shawn is finally awake and you make some coffee for him to have when he comes out.

The machine beeps as it finishes the last few drops of the brown liquid. Bustling around the kitchen you get a mug and gather the cream and sugar. Slowly you add them to the coffee one by one.

Turning around you bump into something hard. You pause for a moment taking him in. Your eyes raking up and down his body your attention is grabbed by white fabric stretched across his hips covering his manhood.

“Like what you see?” He smirks.

Taking a look up you see Shawn’s face. His brown orbs peer into yours causing you to step back. Shawn does the same and leans against the counter. As his muscles flex with his movements the glow from the morning sun seems to get brighter. His hand rises and he moves his finger to gesture for you to come closer.

“C’mere” He says with a rasp in his voice from sleep.

You find your self migrating towards him like your magnets coming together. When you reach him you raise your arms and rub your hands on his chest. Feeling the warm flesh under your hand you move closer pressing your chest to his.

“What about the coffee I made and the eggs?” You said turning your head to look at the food on the table

“Fuck breakfast your the only thing I want right now.”

His hands slipped around your waist lifting you onto the counter. You look into his eyes as he leans in connecting his lips with yours. You gasp when you feel him bite your lip letting him deepen the kiss. He groans in response when you pull on his strands of hair. Moving his hands to your thighs he lifts you again braking the kiss. You tighten your legs around his waist.

Waisting no time he pushes the door open with his foot a makes his way to your bead. He sits down with you in his lap facing him. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck and the brush of his lips. His hands coming to rest on your ass as you grind into him. You hands move to the nape of his neck softly tugging on the strands of hair as he sucks a bruise on to your neck. Shawn parts from your neck and leans you back enough to remove his shirt that you slept in. Once the fabric is gone the cool air in the room hardens you nipples sending goosebumps down your back. “God, look at you, such perfect tits.” He says admiring you as you sit on his lap like it’s a throne. You keen into his touch as he brushes his thumb across one grazing your nipple. You continue to grind your hips into his to create friction. Your actions elect a soft groan from Shawn. Feeling his manhood get hard you slide back further down his legs into the floor. You set your hands on his thighs spreading his legs enough for you to fit in between. In front of you his manhood his hidden under the white fabric of his Calvin Klein boxers. You look into his eyes as you slip your fingers inside the boxers. Using both hands you pull them down to free his cock. As the elastic band passes it hits his stomach and stays laying on him. You reach for it and lightly squeeze eliciting a groan from Shawn. The noise gives you a boost in confidence and you take him into your mouth. Sweeping your tongue around the head and over the slit. Shawn can’t hold the sounds back. One hand behind his back he holds himself up and the other hand comes to rest on your head. Bobbing your head up and down his length you pump with your right hand. Your left hand rests on his thigh. Releasing him from your mouth you lick a stripe up from the base to the shaft and kiss the head and suck it back in your mouth. The warmth and wetness has Shawn squirming and grunting in place. Moving your left hand it stops on his balls and gives a gentle squeeze. A deep moan raises from his chest as you continue to blow him. Not much time passes until his moans get really loud. His hand in your hair begins to push you down on to him as he gets closer to releasing. Looking up at him and blinking through your lashes his eyes catch yours. With a couple more pumps and a deep moan around his manhood Shawn finds himself releasing into your mouth. “Oh…fuck.” You swallow around his cock and lift your head up looking into his eyes. Shawn swears he could get hard looking at you face after you just sucked him off. “Look at you princess.” He said lifting your chin. You got up off your knees and stood in front of him. “Turn for me baby.” He said as he leaned back in his spot. You but your lip as you twirled for him. His hands found themselves not your his as you faced him again. Pulling you in his lips captured yours in n a kiss. You hands placed on either side of his face. Your right leg lists on to the bed and your left on on the other side. Shawn bit onto your bottom lip and then moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin there. Wanting to speed things up Shawn’s hands tug on your shirt. Getting the hint you leaned back and lifted the shirt up off of your frame. Tossing the shirt across the room you turned back to Shawn who was leaned back on his elbows watching you perched on his lap. His dick still sitting hard against his abdomen in between your thighs. You leaned forward planting a light kiss on his lips before you return to an upright position. Taking him in your hand you pump him a few times and rub him against you to make him slick.

Finally you line him up and sink down on to his lap. Something between a moan and a grunt leaves him as he bottoms out. Placing your hands on his chest you get some leverage to lift yourself up and you slam back down. This causes you to moan out loud. Shawn looks at you with pure adoration as you bounce up and down on his cock in a steady pace. “Oh, you feel so good Shawn.” You mumble. “Ugh, fuck so do you baby.” He covers his face as you pick up speed. Your pace falters however and to keep the pleasure going Shawn picks up the slack. Holding onto your hips he slams up into you. The change in pace causing you to wimpier and moan in response. “Oh my gosh.” You moan out. “Huh, you like that tell me how much you want to cum, hmm?” He reached for your bundled nerves between your legs and rubes circles into it. “How much do you want to come all over my cock.” He asks you as he continues to rub in circles. “Uhh, so bad. I wanna cum so bad.” You whine into his neck. You squeeze your walls as you find yourself nearing an orgasm. Shawn grunts as his thrusts get sloppy. His finger relentlessly rubbing into you. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” You practically scream as his pace on your clit doesn’t slow. “Cum for me baby.” He says in your ear and almost instantly your body shudders as your orgasm hits you. Shawn gaveling not cum yet continues to thrust into you. “Please…it’s too much.” you say leaning to the side lifting your leg. Shawn is quick to move it back and reassure you he’s close. “I’m almost there princes hang on.” You moan in response. A second orgasm close because of the overstimulation. Your tighten your core and Shawn moans at the feeling. His abdomen tense as he’s about to release. “Please cum inside me.” You say looking him in the eyes. A grunt leaves his mouth before he thrusts back into you and releases his load in thick ropes. The feeling sending you over the edge and another shudder runs through your body. Not even bothering to get up you collapse on top of Shawn. He looked down at you and admires how beautiful his princes looked all fucked out. It’s like you have this glow and he can’t get enough of it.

After a few minutes you decide to move. “ I think it’s time to get some food.” You said standing a putting on your underwear. Shawn gets up fixing his Calvin Klein boxers before he lifts you up and plops you back into the midsize of the mattress. Curious you let him continue. He leaned down on the some of the bed and slides you closer to him and hooks his finger inside your underwear.

“I told you, fuck breakfast. The only meal I need is right here.”

#shawn imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawnmendes #shawn fanfic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes scenario #shawn mendes angst #imagine #fanfic #smut #shawn mendes smut #shawn x reader #shawnxreader

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smutfornerds · 6 years ago

Text

Good For The Body // Sherloque x Reader

A/N: And here’s our wonnnnnderful end to a day with our little chocolate croissant!! I did my best w/ the French have mercy on me if there’s any mistakes or inconsistencies pls

—

Collapsing onto the couch of the lounge you rested there like dead weight, face firmly planted in the pillows. A slow and frustrated groan hit the fabric of one of them and muffled into it. Admittedly you felt a bit better from the release of tension, but only by a fraction. For a few moments you kept your face buried in the throw pillow. Your mind traveled to the day you’d had, the way your day-boss had thrown - quite literally, it shook your desk how she dropped it - a giant stack of paperwork at you to complete by the weekend. Just thinking about the pages upon pages of mindless work made another groan hit the cushion. Turning your head to face the couch you sighed out audibly again, this time however you heard an amused and familiar chuckle behind you. Flopping your head around to face him, you grimaced up at Sherloque who was fiddling with his monocle and staring at you. “Can I help you?” You muttered, face still squished against the couch. With another bit of a laugh he pushed off the doorway and made his way to sit in the chair opposite you. “Long day, petit une?” The nickname he’d coined for you brought the smallest of smiles to your face and you sat up on your elbows to speak. “Ridiculously long. And stupid and annoying and—“ you slammed your face to the pillow again with an exasperated “Uggggh!” Beside you Sherloque frowned, unsure of how to react to such a response. For a moment he just let you breathe it out and watched as you finally sat back up, now fully. Running your hands through your hair you sighed, the air leaving your lungs in a rush of frustration. “Sorry, I’m just.. beyond drained.” As you spoke you rubbed at your temples, trying to relieve any of the pressure you felt all over your body.

The detective’s trained eyes scanned your body language, seeing the tension in your shoulders and the way your brows crinkled in a way that read as pain and discomfort. He trained his gaze in on your eyes now, and his frown deepened. “You’ve been.. crying.” He stated softly, and you brought your eyes back to him with raised brows. “I-I wasn’t, I was just frustrated, I—“ “Non, not just now, but speaking in general. Your eyes are puffy but not red and you are rubbing your temples like you’ve had a lot of strain to the head, which could be stress but non, is likely from heavily crying, what with the way the crinkle between your brows is défini, much more than on a good day.” He sat forward as he scanned your face even closer now, releasing a sigh through his nose with his lips in a tight line. “Stressed would be an understatement I presume.” His accent hit the final words much thicker and it made you sigh from what he said and also how he said it. Every time he spoke you had to remind yourself to actually focus on the words themselves. “I’m.. I just.. can’t catch a break.” Letting your eyes fall to your lap you twiddled your thumbs a bit before shrugging. “I’ll survive.” Your tone was low and flat, and made Sherloque’s heart sink with how your features looked so sunken. He missed the adorable way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you’d smile at him, it’d been a while since your smile had reached across your whole face in that way. Smiles that deep required the happiness to reach deep too, and knowing now you were lacking that made his heart ache for you. Disregarding personal space he moved next to you on the couch, placing a hand gently to your knee to gain your attention back. “Come back to my little nook and let me make you some tea, oui? Is good for the body, the soul and the mind.” He stood now, not bothering to wait for a yes when he clearly wouldn’t take no for an answer. He did however stop halfway down the stairs to the platform, glancing back to you with a raised brow. “Bien? Are you coming or should I make a half kettle pour moi-même instead?” Your lips tugged up into a reluctant smile the more he spoke his native language to you and you nodded, lifting yourself from the couch to follow him to his room.

When you walked into his little apartment in the basement, you immediately felt comfortable in the room. Sherloque had made a point of making his space somewhere he could relax and focus easily. He kept the lights low and had soft instrumental music playing almost always. Stepping into the middle of the room you heard a subtle whistle of a tea kettle and the brunette stopped to place his hat on the table before moving to the stovetop. It wasn’t surprising he was already in the process of making tea, but what did catch you was that he’d already prepared a full pot. “Expecting company?” You asked softly as you took a seat at the small dining table. From the side of the room he tilted his head back to flash you a smile. “Just you, petit une. I was already coming to find you to ask you for your company when I found you so, so..” he gestured around with his free hand as the other placed the teabags into the water, stirring them around gently once before hanging the strings off the sides. “How would you say?” He questioned and the phrase itself made you giggle. “Distraught?” You added and he snapped his fingers, pointing blindly your direction while his back was still to you. “Oui, je vous remercie.” When you fell silent he hummed a bit, furrowing his brows. “Uh, thank you.” He corrected and you finally nodded. “You’re welcome. Happy to help.” You smiled up at him as he made his way to you, cup in hand before handing it to you.

“Merci.” One of the few words you’d picked up on from him, and you’d even used to correctly. It was almost like the pride you felt for it radiated to Sherloque, and he raised his brows at you with a grin. “Someone’s been taking notes hm?” He sipped his own drink on the last syllable, wide grin still visible behind the teacup. Blowing gently on the tea to cool it a bit you brought the cup to your lips and took a slow sip before answering. “Just a little.” Giving a soft shrug you set the tea down, hands staying wrapped around the warmth though. “So tell me petit une, what is it that has you crying?” He blurted with another sip of tea and you blinked a few times before stuttering for an answer. “Oh, I.. I’m just stressed and exhausted and overwhelmed honestly. I’ve got a lot on my shoulders and it’s baring down on me more lately.” The admission made your eyes falter to the table and you brought your tea up to your lips again, Sherloque simply watching your expression change and your shoulders shrink up instinctively. He could tell you were slipping back into a sadness he didn’t want to see take you so he changed the subject. “And what do you do to relieve that stress, that frustration and pent up energy hm?” His question threw you for a loop, more so because you couldn’t think of a valid answer.

“Well, I uh.. I guess I don’t really actively do anything.” Thinking about it you had a fairly nasty habit of letting your emotions, especially negative, consume you. It’d truly never occurred to you to release these feelings somehow. Noticing the cogs turning in your mind the male smiled. “Would you like to know what I do?” His tone was much more playful now and it made your attention snap back to him intently. “Do tell.” You retorted back with the same tone. Now he stood from the table, gesturing you over to the other half of his makeshift loft. Watching him lead you to the side of his room made up like a bedroom made you heart skip a beat. He sat at the edge of his bed patting the spot beside him which you happily took, and he leaned over to his other side and pulled a book from his nightstand. “So you.. stress read?” The question made him scoff, giving you a side eye before peeling the cover back on the book to expose a flask in it’s hollowed out pages. A genuine laugh breezed past your lips and Sherloque finally saw the crinkly little wrinkles by your now brighter eyes. It was his whole goal, and here he had it, but somehow wasn’t satisfied yet.

Taking the chrome bottle and holding it out to you he smirked. “I believe you call it liquid courage on this earth? We call it sérénité liquide on mine, liquid serenity.” Wiggling it in his hands you heard the gentle sloshing of whatever alcohol it contained. As if he read your thoughts he spoke up again. “Just vodka. Tea is a lovely chaser if need be.” He winked over to you as you took the flask, another small laugh leaving you as your cheeks tinted at the action. Like the detective he was he caught every little change in your demeanor and of course the color to your face and it made his smirk widen. Without hesitation you opened the cap and took a rather abrasive swig. The burn in your throat didn’t bother you as much as the way you shuddered involuntarily as it went down. Beside you Sherloque chuckled warmly, holding his hand out to take it back and take his own couple of sips. Noticing your eyes still on it he passed it to you again, watching as your lips wrapped around the spout of the flask and following the alcohol as you swallowed it thickly. With another shaky exhale you handed it back for him to hide inside his cutout book. After placing it back on his nightstand he turned again to face you. “Vous sentez mieux?” Immediately he caught and rolled his eyes at himself, backtracking to repeat where you’d understand. “Feeling better?” Nodding a bit you shrugged. “I’m sure I will soon.” The words floated through the man’s mind and he wondered if he could speed that process up.

“Well petit une you know what else relieves large amounts of stress and tension to the body?” As he spoke his touch landed on your thigh gently, testing the waters before diving into them. Your eyes fell to his hand, staring for a moment before responding much weaker than you’d intended. “A few ideas come to mind..” Finally meeting his gaze, you couldn’t help but drown in his ocean blue eyes. You watched as they squinted just slightly down at you just before yours closed at the feeling of him closing your gap with a kiss. A small sigh parted your lips and gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue between them, causing you to all but melt into him. Sherloque’s strong hands grabbed your hips, pulling you to sit comfortably in his lap. Feeling a surge of confidence - or maybe that was vodka - you moved your legs to straddle his waist and gained a surprised but eager hum from the frenchman. Slowly he laid himself back against the bed, giving another surprised expression when you followed him keeping your lips tightly together. Your tongue curled against his, the taste of vodka shared between you only fueling you to want more. Just to gauge his reaction you ground yourself down into his lap further, circling your hips against him until you felt his bulge hardening between your legs. A low groan came from the back of his throat and met your lips, forcing a small and playful giggle from your own.

Upon breaking the kiss he stared up at you, an almost longing look to his eyes. Placing your hands on his chest you rubbed softly at the fabric of his jumper. “You could do without this..” You blurted mindlessly. His signature smirk curled at his lips again and he sat up just enough to pull the sweater off his body to expose his toned torso and arms. An audible whine left your lips at the sight and it was his turn to chuckle now. “Tu aimes, petit une?” He teased in a low mumble. His hands reached up for your own and placed them back down on his chiseled abs, your fingertips running over every little dip and rivet of his muscles. “Mph.. why do you keep all this covered up? That’s the real mystery.” You kept your gaze on his body and the hungry look behind your stare made Sherloque’s skin feel white hot beneath your touch. Sitting up fully in one swift motion he flipped you onto the pillows, moving his hands to your waist to begin removing your jeans. Your brows shot up at the abrupt action but you quickly followed his lead, peeling your blouse off and flinging it to his floor. Without wasting a second you unclipped the back of your bra and waited until you saw his eyes roam your body to let it fall. “Bon dieu..” He breathed out, eyes still fixated on your chest. Countless times he’d ogled you through however many layers but now here you were fully exposed to him and for some stupid reason he still had pants on. As he moved his touch to his own belt you laid yourself back against his pillows, nibbling at the corner of your lip.

Even with how distracted he was becoming his attentiveness was sharp as a tac. “Quoi? Is that look for, petit une?” He arched a brow at you just as his fingers tugged down the zipper of his slacks. Biting down harder to your lower lip you took the plunge and brought a hand up to your own chest, starting by drawing lazy patterns between and over your breasts just to attract his eye. The moment his eyes zeroed in on your self-love you moved your fingers to your nipples, rolling over the hardening buds before pinching them gently to elicit a sultry and teasing sound to fill Sherloque’s ears. A chill ran down his spine watching you play, and he desperately wanted to be the one bringing such sweet noises from your swollen lips. In a hurried motion he freed himself from his trousers and boxers, kicking them to the floor with your pile of clothing. Both fully stripped you stared up at him through your clouded and enlarged pupils. His matched perfectly, combing over your body like it was a piece of evidence he needed to thoroughly inspect. His hands fell to your hip and side, letting you wrap your legs back around his torso. Before entering you he pressed his rockhard girth to your thigh, slowly pushing until it was flush with your wetness. A small groan left you both at the feeling of each other’s desires and there was no more of this waiting game left in you. Your hand wandered from your chest to his length now, stroking him slowly as you positioned him at your entrance.

Being the genius he was Sherloque took the hint, pushing himself into you in one slow thrust. A gasp filled your lungs and you shivered at the size of him filling and stretching you. After giving a few warm up thrusts he began setting a rhythmic pace that was double time to the slow, melodic music that covered the air. He leaned to let his head rest on the pillow beside yours as his thrusts picked up speed, and the whines you let out for him signaled you wanted more. With each quickened movement he’d roll his hips harder into your core until your back was arching up to meet his movements. You swiveled your hips with every inward motion, making him groan and grunt at your tightness and the way your walls slicked against his member. With one particularly rough thrust you squealed, gripping onto his bulging arm muscles to brace yourself. He took every cue your body gave, slamming into you again at the same angle and groaning when your legs twitched and tightened everything around him. “Seigneur a pitié..” he muttered under his breath, and you rolled your hips up at the words bringing another guttural moan up from his chest and out of his mouth. One of your hands found his lengthy hair and wound itself in it, giving a pull to the brown strands when he hit your inner core again. With a smirk he slowly pulled out of you only to ram forcefully back into you at just the right angle, a loud cry radiating through the room from you. “Right there, petit une? Is that where it feels good? Ou là que?” On the last word he was pulling from you again, and before he shoved himself back in he glanced down at you expectantly. “Y-Yes..” you managed, and just hearing your voice he slammed back into you, another shrill moan filling the room and inflating his ego. “So tight, dieu, petit une..”

Setting back into his previous rhythm he kept his hard thrusts a constant, every flick of his hips upwards making a new high pitched squeal leave your lips. “F-Faster..” You choked out between thrusts and he growled down at you, his grip tightening against your hip and bend of your waist. Happily obliging he moved his hips much quicker now. If he’d been in double time to the music before he was at least quadruple at this point. Sherloque’s wild bucking was shaking his bed frame but neither of you cared. Your body shook worse and that was all he could even focus on. Feeling your legs tighten around him again he braced for your inner walls doing the same and still let a groan trickle out at the feeling. This time even your back arched from the mattress and pressed your body to his, and feeling your naked chest and hot skin against his own made the man thrust even faster. His breathing was as labored as yours and both of you knew the other was close. The hand wound in his tresses gave a sharp tug and his head flew back, seething a gasp through gritted teeth. That particular thrust was much deeper than the rest and your frame pressed to his all over again. “Ah-I’m..” you tried, you really did, but he was too good at everything he was doing. He heard your strained attempt and moved the hand from your waist between you. Fingers finding your clit with ease the calloused pads of his middle and index finger rubbed furiously at the nerves. A screeching gasp came from you and you let it out as a whiny and sharp cry of pleasure. Hearing you practically screaming for him made Sherloque’s thrusts become uncontrollable. He vigorously railed into you, his fingers all the while mercilessly rubbing at your clit. It was only moments before you gave one final scream, mouth gaping open wide as your body shook and curled into his touch. The way you clenched around him made his throbbing length twitch inside you, and before he could ask you just nodded as enthusiastically as you could to let him know it was otherwise covered. At the go ahead he let all the pent up tension go spilling his release into you and warming your every inner inch.

Both of you groaned as your highs winded down. He removed his fingers and trailed them to your lips fully teasing, but was more than happily surprised to watch and feel you lick your juices from him, even giving a sultry little hum as you did so. “Oof, such a naughty thing, mon petit une..” The smirk on his face made you giggle, and the added claim to the nickname wasn’t lost on you either. Slowly as though it was a reluctant action, Sherloque pulled himself from you and collapsed onto his bed at your right side. He gave a heavy and huffed sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead and brushing his hair back. Simply nodding in response you let your eyes flutter closed for a few minutes of comfortable silence while the two of you collected yourselves. He was first to break the tranquility of the moment, sitting up with a small grunt and rummaging through his dresser. He dawned a dark pair of STAR Labs sweats before holding up a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers in your direction. “Pour toi, mon petit une. For you, so you do not get cold.” He tossed the garments onto the bed with a smile, and made his way to make you both a new and fresh cup of tea. You admired his physique all the while getting changed into the crewneck. His shoulders rippled as he poured the drinks, and you caught yourself licking your lips at the thought of scratching them to bits. You’d just tugged the plaid boxers on when he turned back around, and the grin on his face read proud and smug and smitten all in one. “They look better on you than moi.” He teased, motioning you to come back to sit with him at his table. As you stood your legs wobbled a bit and you plopped back onto the bed with scarlet cheeks.

The detective gave a genuine laugh at your struggle and moved to bring the tea cups to the bedside table. Before giving you yours he’d grabbed the flask again wiggling it at you. “Care for more before tea?” As he posed the question he’d already began opening it, and punctuated it with a small shot. You giggled at the hint of a face he made before he handed it over to you to grab his tea in a hast. He hummed appreciatively when the warm drink hit his lips. You grinned as you took two large swings of the bottle, handing it back to him with about half as much alcohol as was there before. Taking your own cup from him now you took a fairly large slurp from the tiny cup. Sherloque chuckled at the sound and slurped his own just to make you giggle in response, which you of course did. “So are you feeling better? Or are we still feeling a tad bit stressed?” The gleam was back to his eyes now and you smirked up at him, before giving a playfully dramatic sigh. “I’m just so, so stressed, Sherloque.. whatever will we do?” You tilted your head his direction and brought your tongue out to run along the edge of your cup before taking the next sip. The male beside you sighed out his nose at the sight of your teasing, stealing your cup away and placing it down before turning back to you with a devious grin. “Oh don’t you worry, mon petit amour, I will happily work that stress out of your exquisite body..” With every word he thickened his accent and leaned further into you until he was ghosting his lips against your own, looming over you. Admittedly your eyes were glued to his skillfully bilingual lips, and he - of course - noticed. In an instant they were locked to yours again, and it didn’t take long for both your stresses to melt away into the mattress. The tea was well past cold when you finally felt too relaxed to go on, drifting off to sleep cuddled close and securely to Sherloque’s chest.

#sherloque wells #the flash #sherloque wells smut #sherloque wells x reader #the flash smut

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