#fearless leader space flutter

[mbruben-stein]

I fucking love your work

And can you make a TMNT 2012 Leo x Chubby/Curvy Reader?

I love your TMNT work God bless you sweetie🤗💕

I love you the way you are.

TMNT 2012 Leo x chubby/curvy reader.

A/N: I was having a little bit of trouble riding this one. I was just stuck on writers block for a while. I hope everyone enjoys what I write. Have a lovely day everyone and remember that there's always going to be someone that loves you the way you are.

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, pinching the soft flesh around your waist. No matter how much you work out and eat healthy, you can never seem to lose the curves and extra weight. Sometimes you feel insecure about your body, wishing you had a lean, slender figure like April or Karai.

As much as you try not to let it get to you, the negative thoughts creep in more and more lately. It doesn't help that you have a huge crush on Leonardo - strong, disciplined, heroic Leo. You're sure he would never be attracted to someone with a body like yours. He probably goes for fit, athletic girls who can keep up with his intense training.

Feeling discouraged, you throw on some loose clothes and head over to the lair to hang out with the turtles like you do most days. You've been close friends with them ever since they saved you from some Purple Dragon gang members a year ago. Although you adore all four brothers, you find yourself most drawn to Leo and his sense of honor and leadership. You try to hide your feelings, not wanting to risk your friendship or face inevitable rejection.

When you arrive at the lair, Mikey bounces over to greet you. "Y/N! Check out this new pizza recipe I invented - pepperoni, jelly beans and garlic! I call it the Mikey Surprise!"

You laugh and pat his shell. "That sounds...interesting Mikey. Maybe I'll try it later." You scan the room and spot Leo practicing katas off to the side. He notices you and gives a quick smile and wave before resuming his focused movements with his katana blades. Your heartbeat quickens at the mere sight of him.

"Whatcha staring at, Y/N?" Raph teases, plopping down on the couch. "Could it be our fearless leader over there?"

You feel your cheeks redden. "What? No! I was just spacing out. Not staring at anyone in particular."

Donnie looks up from the gadget he's tinkering with, raising an eye ridge. "Uh huh, sure." He exchanges a knowing glance with Raph.

Wanting to change the subject, you ask, "So what's the plan for today guys? Any missions to foil the Foot or Kraang?"

"Nah, it's been pretty quiet," Raph says. "Probably just training and patrolling later."

As if on cue, Leo finishes his katas and strides over to the group. "We'll head out in a few hours to scout the city. There's been reports of increased Purple Dragon activity by the docks we should check out." His ocean blue eyes turn to you. "Y/N, you're welcome to come if you'd like. We could always use an extra set of eyes. And I know you can handle yourself in a fight if needed."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Leo has never invited you on a patrol before. "Really? You'd want me to come with you guys?"

"Of course," Leo says warmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're part of the team."

You beam at him, heart fluttering at his touch. "I'd love to come! Thanks Leo!" You try to sound casual and not too eager.

The next couple hours pass quickly as you all eat pizza, joke around, and watch Mikey and Raph thumb wrestle. Soon it's time to head up to the surface. The turtles gather their gear and you all climb out of the sewer into the dark city night.

You follow the brothers as they sprint and leap across the rooftops with ease. Even with all the training they've given you, you still struggle to keep pace with their mutant speed and strength. Not to mention your curvy body feels cumbersome and heavy as you try to gracefully jump from building to building like they do.

After a few minutes, you need to pause to catch your breath. "You guys go on ahead," you pant, waving them on. "I'll catch up in a sec."

Leo frowns and hangs back as his brothers continue forward. "You okay, Y/N? We can take a break if you need to."

You force a smile, not wanting to slow him down. "I'm fine, Leo. Just go with the others. I know I can't keep up with you guys."

He shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you behind. Here, climb on my back. I'll carry you the rest of the way."

You hesitate, self-conscious about your weight. "Are you sure? I'm probably too heavy..."

Leo gives you a look. "Y/N, you're not too heavy. It's no problem, I promise. Now hop on before the guys get too far ahead of us and Raph starts calling me Lame-o-nardo again."

Biting your lip, you walk over and carefully climb onto his shell, wrapping your arms and legs around him from behind. He easily hoists you up and takes off running, not showing any strain from your added size.

"Is this okay?" you ask meekly, convinced you must be crushing him.

Leo cranes his neck to give you a reassuring smile over his shoulder. "You're perfect, Y/N. I've got you."

Something about the way he says that makes your stomach flutter. You rest your head against his shoulder and allow yourself to relax as he carries you across the rooftops. Being this close to him feels amazing.

After a couple minutes, you catch up to where the others have stopped on a ledge overlooking the docks. Leo gently lowers you to the ground. You immediately miss his touch but try to focus on the mission.

"What do you see?" Leo asks his brothers.

Donnie peers through the scope on his goggles. "Looks like your typical Purple Dragon deal going down. I count maybe a dozen of them and...is that Hun? I thought he was still locked up!"

Raph cracks his knuckles. "Not anymore it seems. And it looks like he brought backup." He points to several black vans pulling up.

"Foot soldiers," Leo says grimly as the doors open to reveal Shredder's men piling out. "Just what we need. A Purple Dragon and Foot team-up."

You look at Leo in concern. "What's the plan, Chief?"

His brow furrows in thought before he nods decisively. "We go in quick and quiet. Take out as many as we can before they sound the alarm. Don, Mikey, you guys handle the Purple Dragons. Raph and I will deal with the Foot. Y/N, I want you to stay up here and keep watch. Let us know if any more show up. We'll regroup once it's clear."

You frown slightly, wondering if he just wants you to stay back because you'd get in the way with your lack of ninja skills. But you know he's just trying to keep you safe, so you agree.

"Got it. Be careful down there guys." You give Leo's hand a quick squeeze. He returns it before signaling his brothers forward.

You crouch on the ledge and observe as the four ninja turtles silently take out the guards and make their way through the shadows. It never fails to impress you seeing them in action.

Things seem to be going smoothly until you notice another black van pull up and even more Foot ninjas spill out. "Guys, heads up! Reinforcements incoming!" you say into your T-phone.

On the ground, you see Raph groan. "Aw shell, not again."

The new wave of Foot rush to aid their comrades, turning the battle into an all out brawl. You wince as you watch the turtles begin to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies surrounding them.

Suddenly, you notice Leo get knocked back by a powerful punch from a hulking Foot ninja. The brute raises his sword to deliver a finishing blow while Leo is dazed...

Without thinking, you leap off the ledge and land shell-first on the Foot soldier, knocking him to the ground. You roll to your feet in front of Leo protectively. "Stay away from him!"

The Foot ninja rises and growls at you, but you stand your ground. As he lunges, you sidestep and use your lowered center of gravity to grab his arm and flip him over your shoulder, slamming him hard into the concrete.

Leo stares at you in awe. "Y/N! That was amazing!" He seems to notice your fierce protectiveness of him and smiles softly.

You help him to his feet, blushing. "I couldn't let him hurt you. Now let's finish this!"

Side by side, you and Leo rejoin the fight. It feels so natural, moving in sync with him as you take down Foot ninja after Foot ninja. Your curves make you surprisingly agile and powerful.

With your added help, the turtles manage to beat back the Purple Dragons and Foot clan, sending them retreating into the night. You all cheer and high five in victory.

"That was so cool how you just jumped in like that, Y/N!" Mikey says excitedly. "You were all fierce and BOOYAKASHA!"

"Our girl's got some moves!" Raph agrees, giving you a fist bump. Donnie pats your back proudly.

You smile shyly at the praise. Your eyes find Leo's and he is gazing at you with open admiration. "Y/N, you were incredible. Thank you for having my back. You're a true part of this team."

Your heart soars at his words. "I'll always have your back, Leo," you say sincerely.

On the way back to the lair, Leo insists on carrying you again, even though you aren't tired. Not that you're complaining. Being held in his strong arms is something you could get very used to.

When he sets you down in the lair, he keeps his hands resting on your waist. "What you did tonight... it showed me a side of you I've never seen before. Your strength, your bravery, how you didn't hesitate to protect me."

He looks deep into your eyes. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now. The reason I get so protective of you is because...I care about you. As more than a friend. I have feelings for you. Strong feelings."

You stop breathing. Is this really happening? "You do? But why? I mean, look at me..." You gesture helplessly at your curvy figure.

Leo cups your face tenderly. "I am looking at you. And I see a beautiful, courageous, amazing woman. Your body is perfect the way it is. Soft and strong. I love your curves." His thumbs stroke your full cheeks. "I love every inch of you, inside and out. And if you'll have me, I promise to show you just how much every single day."

Tears fill your eyes at his heartfelt declaration. "Oh Leo... I feel the same way! I've always loved you!"

Beaming, Leo pulls you flush against him, your soft chest cushioning his hard plastron. "Yeah?"

You nod shyly and he grins. "Then allow me to make up for lost time..."

He leans in and captures your mouth in a passionate, loving kiss. You melt into his embrace, finally feeling fully accepted and cherished exactly as you are.

In Leo's arms, with him kissing you like you're his whole world, all your insecurities fade away. He loves you, curves and all.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hiii my favourite Aemond writer!!Can we get some femdom for Aemond with praise kink and him begging to cum inside? 👀👀

Hi my favourite anon! You got it!

Just a quick note to add I have seven other requests in my asks currently and my turnaround time is around 2-4 weeks - if I haven't responded to your request yet, it means I am working on it.

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~950

"So it is settled." Aemond decides, as he sits at the head of the long table in the Red Keep's council chambers. "Criston and I will gather an army and we will march against Daemon at Harrenhal."

Murmurs of agreement echo around him. 

When Aegon had become grievously injured during the battle at Rook's Rest, Aemond had taken over as Prince Regent in his stead, taking up the mantle of Protector of the Realm. As such, he had also asummed responsibility of making battle plans to defend his brother's claim to the throne against his half sister and uncle.

He has gathered the Small Council here today to discuss their next strategy of attack and all are now in mutual understanding of what needs to happen next.

"Criston, I trust you are able to make the necessary arrangements? We depart in three days. If there is nothing more to discuss then you are all free to go."

Criston nods in assent, standing and filing out of the room with the others, leaving Aemond sitting alone.

It is but a few moments later that she appears in the doorway and he visibly relaxes at the sight of her, his posture immediately becoming less rigid as she sweeps into the room. Her skirts flow elegantly behind her as she approaches him, never breaking eye contact.

His eye flutters closed, leaning into the warmth of her palm as she reaches out a hand to caress his cheek.

"You did so well today." She purrs. "Such a good boy."

He shivers at her praise, staring up at her, his pupil blown wide with lust. His hands reach needily for her, grasping at her hips.

"Have you had enough of playing fearless leader for today?" She simpers. "Need me to make it all better?"

Aemond swallows thickly, nodding his head. "Please." He whispers, pushing his chair back and allowing space for her to straddle his lap.

She sits astride him, her head bowing slightly under the weight of the iron and ruby crown as Aemond lifts it carefully from his own head to place upon hers.

"My Queen." He breathes, lips parted as he stares up at her with pure, unadultered adoration.

Her fingers trail playfully over the lacings of his breeches, smirking when she feels him straining against them. "My, my." She teases. "Who is this for?"

"You, only you." He grits out, struggling to control his breathing as her hand ghosts over his hardened length through his trousers. "Please..."

"Please, what?" She cocks her head. "Use your words."

"Please touch me." Aemond whimpers, bucking against her hand.

"I am touching you, silly boy." 

"I need more." He practically whines.

She shows mercy, freeing his erection and languidly running her hand up and down its thick length. "Like this?"

He screws his eye shut, the tendons in his neck straining under the effort to keep his composure. "Let me inside you. Please, my Queen."

She releases her hold of him, rucking her skirts up above her hips, revealing her bare cunt to him, already glistening with slick. "In here?"

He inhales sharply, a fresh wave of arousal causing his cock to ache painfully as he realises she's not wearing any small clothes. He reaches out to touch her, but his actions are halted as she grabs his wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She chides. "You mustn't touch without permission."

He flexes his fingers before dropping his hand back to the arm of the chair. "Forgive me, my Queen. Please, please let me inside."

She giggles, it is a dulcet, playful sound. "Well, I suppose since you asked so nicely..."

She grasps his member once more, positioning it at her entrance and sinking down slowly.

Aemond's jaw goes slack as he feels her tight, wet heat envelope him. His nails dig crescent moons into the wooden arms of the chair.

As soon as he is fully sheathed inside of her, his fingertips reach up towards the top of her bodice, right eye flickering to hers. "May I? Please?"

"Take what you need." She says softly, her hand stroking through his silken strands of silver hair.

He tugs down the garment, freeing her breasts and immediately taking the taut peak of one greedily into his mouth.

She begins to rock her hips against his, feeling him groan around her as he slides in and out of her. Lewd wet sounds echo off of the vaulted ceiling, mingled with breathy gasps and moans as she bounces in his lap, fingers still tangled within his hair.

He releases her breast with a wet popping sound, quickly focusing his attention on the other. He can tell from the white hot sparks that lick at his stones and lower back that he will not last. His prick is already starting to pulsate.

"I need release." He whispers hotly against her skin.

"Already?" She asks, never faltering from the pace she has set atop his lap.

"Mmm. Please. Let me spill inside of you." His voice sounds strangled with desperation.

"And what makes you think I would allow you to do that?"

"I've been so good today, such a good boy for you. Please, please..." He babbles.

She chuckles, continuining to roll her hips against his. "Alright then. I suppose you have been. You may spend inside of me."

Aemond's entire body tenses before shuddering as he releases rope after rope of his pearly spend inside of her with a loud grunt.

She carries on stroking his hair, fucking him through his peak until he goes limp against her.

"Thank you, my Queen." He murmurs.

"Such a good boy." She replies, holding him against her chest.

Read on AO3

More Aemond fics

[melodygatesauthor]

Arachnophilia

Were-Spider Peter B Parker x f!Reader

Blurb 4 for Kinktober 2024 - Request by Anonymous - Not Edited

NSFW below the cut - Spider-like qualities mentioned. Peter is a little OOC and primal - Reader is not race coded

Words: 997

Peter B. Parker from your universe was great. There was no denying that the pizza-loving, dad bod wielding, spider-person had charm, and you liked him. There were only two problems:

He was married to Mary Jane, and they were very much in love. The other problem was…he was boring…at least in comparison to the Peter you had your eyes on.

You didn’t even know which universe the Were-Spider Peter was from, but you liked the way he looked. He had a rugged demeanor, a bit darker with a hint of danger. There was something feral about him, and that excited you to no end. You supposed that was in part due to the way he became Spider-Man in the first place.

Not unlike the Spider Society’s fearless leader, Miguel O’Hara, his DNA was fused with a spider. Part man, part spider, and it manifested in sharp fangs, eight legs he could extend or retract at will, and an insatiable sex drive that could only be described as purely feral in nature.

You needed him the way you needed air to fucking breathe, and you let him know that as much as possible. You changed your spider suit to be a bit more form fitting, accentuating your tits and ass nicely. Even Miguel eyed you once or twice, which let you know it would surely work on feral Peter.

It was so late, and you were in your office, tired after a long day. You weren’t on the front lines as much as some of the other spider-folk. As someone with subpar abilities and a knack for getting caught up in dangerous situations, you handled a lot of Miguel’s paperwork, and as a perk, you got a nice little office, away from the hustle and bustle that came with working at the Spider Society.

You were just about to leave, opening the door to exit your office, when Peter met you in the threshold. You gasped, dropping your keys on the floor.

“P-Peter, I–”

He cut you off, taking you off guard as he stepped forward, forcing you back into the room. You gulped as your entire body came alive with a combination of excitement and fear. You took another step back and you tripped, landing on the floor.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he grumbled, climbing over you. “I see how you’re showing off your slutty little body just for me,” he breathed, extending his legs from his back.

His spider legs caged you against the floor, and his teeth were dripping with spit as he looked down at you. You felt a chill run through your spine, rendering you motionless and silent, save for the heavy breaths punching out of your lungs.

He pinned your arms down above your head using his webbing, doing the same around your neck. Even if you wanted to run, you wouldn’t be able to, but this was your greatest fantasy coming to fruition. Your lips parted, eyes half lidded with arousal as he toyed with you like a predator would its prey. Peter’s hands moved to your skirt, shoving it up around your hips

“Peter, p-please don’t hurt me,” you asked shakily, the combination of terror and excitement was driving you mad.

He licked your jaw and kissed the space just below your earlobe, a throaty growl erupting from deep inside of him.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he rasped, groaning as he kissed along your skin. “Wouldn’t hurt such a fun little thing.”

You panted, the feeling of his lips against your neck shot straight to your core, forcing your cunt to throb with need.

“Please,” you begged, this time desperate to have him buried as deep inside of you as he could be.

He obliged without another word, using the leverage his extra legs afforded him to thrust into you roughly, full to the hilt in one pass. You arched against him, mouth falling open and your eyes fluttering. He pulled back, grunting as he thrust forward again harshly, the fat head of his cock hitting the deepest parts of you.

“Peter–oh-fuck-fuck!” you cried out with every snap of his hips.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned against your ear. “Gotta stretch you out,” he leaned back, looking down where your bodies were connected and huffed.

“T-tear me apart!” you demanded, not caring if he obliged literally or figuratively.

With both hands, he held onto your waist and moved at a bruising pace, filling the office with the lewd sounds of skin on skin. You wanted to wipe the drool that threatened to fall down your cheek, but remembered your hands were pinned above your head. You were completely at Peter’s mercy.

Peter started fucking you like you were nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. You curled your toes in anticipation as searing heat pooled in your core. Your mouth gaped open, unable to form a coherent sentence anymore. Your mind went blank, and all you could hear was the sound of Peter’s feral growls hitting your ears.

“Gonna make you carry my spiderlings, would you like that?” He asked between thrusts.

It sounded like a joke, surely he couldn’t mean it.

You gulped, “yes,” you blurted, “yes I’ll carry your–oh fuck Peter–I’ll carry your kids. Fuck!”

On the tail end of your words you exploded, eyes rolling back as your cunt throbbed and gushed around his thick cock. He fucked you through it, not stopping for a second, slamming harder and faster until finally his body stilled, a liquid warmth spilling inside of your hot, wet pussy.

The room was suddenly very quiet, filled only with the sound of your sharp, combined breaths. With his teeth, Peter removed the webbing on your neck and then on your hands, and he retracted his legs back into his body. He looked down at you with a gaze filled with longing.

“I like you,” he whispered, brushing his canonically busted nose against yours.

You chuckled, “I like you too, Peter.”

Back to Kinktober Masterlist

[machidielontheway]

[Image description : a white and black digital drawing with line art. Four rows of five floating heads of the character Shiro from cartoon Voltron : the legendary defenders. There are six different versions of this character’s head : young Shiro without a scar from the Garrison days, Shiro from the beginning of the series with white bangs (floof) and nose scar, Shiro from the end of the series with totally white hair, Kuro with glowing eyes from an hallucination, Sven with black hair and no scar from the alternate reality, Kuron one of Shiro’s clones with long hair. There are a few copies of each head and are in a random order in the row, and the heads on the sides of the image are cut by the edges. A lone, seventh head made of a simple dotted outline and without features  is on the bottom left corner. /End ID]

Identity (very meaningfull alt. title : shirevolutions)

[mintmatcha]

9 months, 29 days

Matsukawa and Hanamaki

chapter two of 10 months

CW: nothing in particular for this chapter, but series is an angst story containing mentions of death. be warned

“Oi,” Mattsun’s tugging on his outdoor shoes, trying his best not to crumple the heel. Rain beats against the roof, so hard that a leak has formed in the center of the locker room. It drips so rapidly, that constant little dripdripdripdripdripdrip that dips into his brain and makes him irrationally angry. Everything’s been making him angry today though.

Practice was supposed to end an hour ago. As much as he loves playing, Mattsun wasn't like Oikawa; this kind of work, this kind of pushing himself to the brink, wasn't fun. He wanted to go home, to finish up his homework in complete silence, maybe jack off, and then sleep all fucking weekend.

In fact, if he could go the next couple days without speaking to anyone, he’d be perfectly happy. No parents, no siblings, no exceptions.

“Oi, Issei,” Makki’s shoe thunks against his lower back, firm enough to push him deeper into a squat, and Mattsun feels the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. Pain pulses in his knees everytime Makki thumps his dirty old shoe against him. "Did you forget your umbrella again?”

Mattsun’s umbrella sits in his open locker.

“Aren’t you being too casual?” he tries to remember why he was just in a bad mood, but just can’t. His name on Makki's lips bounces around his skull on loop. Issei, Issei, Issei- it's such a pretty name. If he asked, he'd say it again and again, but the gym door's there, unlocked, waiting to be opened, waiting to catch them being too friendly with each other.

“It’s just us. The underclassmen left already and our fearless leaders are still practicing.” Makki shrugs, “They wouldn’t think it was suspicious anyway.”

Mattsun jumps to his feet with all of the energy his body can manage, knocking Makki off balance enough to knock him onto his ass. He lands with a splash, sprawled on his back. They look at each other for a moment, wide eyed as they process the scene. Makki lays in the puddle, that dreaded drip bouncing off his nose and down into his mouth, which is parted in fake horror. His school uniform and bag covered in growing, dark wet spots, probably crawling in athlete's foot. Mattsun freezes, unsure of whether he should apologize or laugh. With a scowl, face knotted up in disgust, Makki silently undoes the latches to his bag and pulls out his umbrella. With a press of the button, it unfolds. The leak forms little droplets that roll down the black fabric onto his stomach.

“No one warned me it was raining inside too.” Makki huffs before then both break into laughter. It’s not that funny, but it’s what Mattsun needed. He doesn’t stop until he’s hunches over, clutching his side and trying to blink away tears, completely breathless. His eyes never leave his friends and that makes it better, makes his body feel warmer.

“Don’t open an umbrella inside; it’s bad luck,” the brunette reaches out a hand and Makki takes it.

The others always talked about holding girl’s hands and enjoying the size difference, enjoying how tiny they felt. They liked the delicate fingers, the thin palms, but Mattsun never really understood it.

Makki’s hands were the same size as his. Coarse and dry, a bit calloused on the palms, and they fit perfectly together with his. His fingers are thick, still sweaty and warm from practice, and yet Mattsun wants them interlaced with his own. Makki squeezes, rubbing his thumb along with lines of his palm like he knows exactly what Mattsun’s thinking about, before pulling himself up.

“Bad luck doesn’t exist, dude.” Makki twirls the umbrella, “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“I hope not.” Mattsun adjusts his grip and does exactly what he wants to, squeezing his fingers in between his best friend’s.

“So, did you forget your umbrella?”

Mattsun’s umbrella sits in his locker. It’s sitting there in the open, a bright Seijoh blue. They both see it, they both know it’s there. Mattsun reaches in and pulls on his shoulder bag with a shrug. Then, he silently closes the locker.

“Yeah,” he lies. The lie makes the next part easier to explain to the others, “I was going to wait until the rain stopped.”

Their hands are still joined. He tries not to fixate on the warmth.

“Nah, don’t be stupid,” Makki starts walking and Mattsun follows. He knows the drill by now. “Share with me. I’ll walk you home.”

They step out into the downpour, shoulders pressed into each other, only half covered by the tiny umbrella. They occasionally squeeze each other’s hand, a silent acknowledgement. I know what this means, it says, I know you didn’t need me to walk you home. I know we just needed an excuse.

“My bookbag’s getting soaked, Hiro.”

“Then switch arms, dumbass.”

“Then I couldn’t-” Mattsun chokes on his words as something clatters behind them. He quickly swivels, checking to see if the campus was empty, only to be greeted by emptiness. The rain fogs up the street, giving them a curtain of privacy. This thing between them, whatever it was, was just for the two of them.

“It’s just us, Issei,” Makki cackles, “You worry too much.”

He sighs and continues forward, “I just don’t want people talking.”

“Some friends, like us, are just touchy, it’s no big deal.”

Mattsun dips down and presses his forehead against his friend’s temple suddenly. The humidity of the rain doesn’t hide the long, warm breath Makki lets out at the touch, and the rain doesn’t hide how his eyes flutter shut. Solitude makes him bold.

“Yeah,” Mattsun whispers, lips so close that they almost brush against his cheek. It’s plump, dusty pink that almost matches his hair. “I’m just touchy, I guess.”

Makki nuzzles into the touch. “Your future girlfriend is gonna love that about you.”

“Don’t say stupid things like that.” Mattsun whispers, tugging him closer by the arm until they’re chest to chest. Being wet makes the fabric seem thinner and the space between them seem smaller.

The other guys always talk about short girls: dipping down to kiss them, having their girlfriends stand on their toes for a kiss, feeling big and strong compared to them.

Makki’s face is level with his. It'd be so easy.

“I don’t want a girlfriend.” Mattsun says.

“Oh yeah?” Makki flashes his typical grin, “Then what do you want?”

.

3:24 Two full hours before his alarm. Mattsun stares at the texture of his ceiling and tries to think about nothing. His hand feels empty. It’s unfair of his brain to remember that moment so vividly. It’s a meaningless memory, something that should have been long forgotten, but god, his brain refuses to let it go. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the smooth, supple skin against his nose, smell the hint of aftershave Makki bought from the corner store. He flips the pillow and buries his head into the cool side. He tries to think about nothing. Makki's eyes were so sunken in, so flat. It makes his stomach churn to think about it, to think about how he’s dying. He gives up and pulls his phone from the side table. Why does he care? They don’t talk anymore. Makki just wants him to help plan a stupid party. They don’t mean anything to each other. Not anymore. Mattsun checks Twitter. The top trending story is about a breakthrough in neuroscience, but his eyes won’t focus to read it. Exhaustion makes him stupid. His hands shake when he opens his texting app. He tells himself he's texting Midori, but he types in a new number instead. One he knows by heart.

mi>hey mi>could you do breakfast

ht>who dis?

ht>i told you to lose my number yuuji

mi>not yuuji

mi>issei

ht>lmaooooo sorry ht> the old place at 9?

mi>k mi>... why are you awake

ht> headache. ht> why are YOU

Mattsun doesn't answer. He just stares at the ceiling again.

[remmushound]

Beyond the bay chapter 2: Uninvited Visitor

Back at the lair, Leo and Raph couldn’t help but be anxious. It was six. The sun was rising, the city was waking. The shadows that hid them in the night were fading fast, and still there were no signs of Donnie or Mikey. Leo had given them the hour to get their pictures and get back, but it had been almost twice that without word. Raph had suggested calling them but was quickly shut down by Leo; if their brothers happened to be in a position where stealth was mandatory, such an action could easily doom their brothers to being spotted. All they could do was wait.

Simply sitting around and waiting in the living room with his father and brother quickly proved too irksome for Raph to handle. He needed to be moving, doing something to keep his mind occupied and away from the infuriating worry of Donnie and, most importantly, Mikey. Without a word, he dismissed himself from his father and older brother in favor of busying himself with other matters— like getting himself ready for bed. 

The red toothbrush was his; the whole color-coding fiasco, as childish as it had grown to be, was useful in keeping his and his brothers’ stuff from getting mixed up. If they hadn’t had been marked with the distinctive bright colors, Raph was sure than one or all of his brothers would have absently selected the wrong toothbrush in their rush to get the nightly routine over with. 

Raph started to clean his teeth. Then he gave a curious growl as his arm was ticked with a faint breeze. Wind was very rare this deep in the sewer, and Raph doubted that the old rat or steadfast fearless leader would be rushing enough to be creating a breeze. What then…? 

Raph’s attention was drawn beside him, to the closed shower curtain; it seemed it too had caught the breeze, as it was swaying just barely, rings clanking together. Raph put one hand on his sai as he cleared the distance to the tub with a single, long stride. A flash of green had him slamming the curtains open to reveal an empty bathtub.

Raph huffed, his lips curling up to flash canines as he shook his head. There was a slam, and several solid thud-like footsteps that faded away faster than Raph could turn around. The door was closed now, and in the process of bouncing back open.

“Oh hell no!” Raph slammed the door open completely with his shoulder, both hands planted firmly on his sai as he ran back down the hall. “No demon getting my ass today! LEO!”

“What?” Leo’s tone was sharper than he had intended, irritation so strong that it leaked out into the very words he spoke. Then, like it was popped with a needle, the storm clouds of worry poofing away at the sight of Raph, suds overflowing his mouth and toothbrush still hanging out of his lips. “Hey, hey— what’s up?”

“There was a damn demon in the bathroom!”

“What?” Leo narrowed his eyes slowly.

Splinter left Leo’s side in favor of venturing to the second son, raising a hand to stroke the bowed Raph’s cheek with a gentle paw. 

The lair was then filled with an alarm of incoming. Leo swore under his breath so his father couldn’t hear as he backed up and prepared for a dash to the weapon room. The voice that came down the tunnel seconds later was one familiar to him.

“Leo!” Donnie came around the corner just as Leo registered his brother's voice. “Leo Leo Leo Leo Leo—“

Donnie shuffled down the tunnel as quickly as he dared risk with the precious cargo in his arms. Six hundred pounds of dead weight was never easy to carry, and several times his footing had started to slip as he descended the sloping entrance. Raph and Leo were there quickly to take the burden off of their brother, Raph taking on the brunt of Mikey’s weight while Leo split his attention between both Mikey and Donnie. The worried father followed quickly, whiskers tickling Mikey’s neck while he weaved to avoid getting under his sons’ feet.

“What happened?” Leo demanded; he was supporting Mikey’s head while the groggy younger turtle tried to swipe him away, muttering some incoherence.

“I don’t know. We were taking pictures and he just shut down. He’s— he’s conscious but— but I don’t know.”

But Donnie did know. At least, he was almost sure he knew. The muscle spasm, the slurred speech, dazed look. The way Mikey was staring and the way he slumped and almost fell off of the roof. Donnie had a theory that clutched him like a cold claw but he knew better than to voice it until it was no longer just a theory, but a proven reality. They made it to the needle room. With Leo’s gentle guidance, he and Raph put Mikey down on the bed while Donnie scrambled to grab all the supplies he needed.

“Mm…” Mikey winced as Donnie held his eyelids open to assess the pupils. Mikey tried to pull away, his arm tensing as he made an attempt to lift it and further resist the exam, but it refused to listen. “Heavy…”

“I know Mike…” Donnie soothed gently, then quickly leaned over to Raph, “Keep him still if you can.”

Raph nodded and put his hands gently on Mikey’s shoulders, leaning in just enough weight to keep Mikey still while Donnie examined the right arm, massaging deft fingers across it. Mikey yelled and tried to sit up, but Raph was there to correct the attempt. He shushed his baby brother gently and leaned his head down to press his forehead to Mikey’s. After a moment, Mikey pressed back and gave a cluck of gratitude. Donne finished up his exam.

“How is he?” Splinter asked, looking up to his purple-clad son. In the black of the rat's eyes reflected worry for his youngest; he took Mikey’s hand in his own and kissed it to let Mikey know he was there. Mikey giggled and squeezed his father's hand in turn.

“He’s awake— that, that’s good right?” Leo asked urgently.

Donnie took a sharp breath through his nose. He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head and let out an exasperated breath.

“Raph— could you get Mikey some water? He’s probably really thirsty.”

“O-oh— yeah.” Despite his agreement, Raph didn't immediately move away. He kept his head pressed against Mikey’s for several seconds longer before a touch on his shoulder made him naturally look up to acknowledge the second presence.

No words were exchanged between Donnie or Raph, the details in their eyes telling the other brother everything they needed to know. Donnie gave a soft chuff, but that was all. Raph left without looking back, because he knew if he did look back, he wouldn’t be able to leave. Get to the kitchen, get lemon water, and get back. That was his task and he repeated it multiple times over in his head before he had even reached the kitchen.

Tap water would be just fine, right? He had already filled up the glass before he shook his head and dumped out the glass. No, his brother deserved better. The water filter was broken yet again as another example of the ‘machines hating Leo’ situation that was a constant in their life. First it was the toaster, and now it was like almost every kitchen appliance fearless touched rejected him. He was still adamant that Donnie must have programmed it to always happen. Raph laughed and shook his head as various examples of the struggle between turtle and machine came to his mind. A bottled water would do just fine. He poured half of it into a dense mug, then added ice because he knew how Mikey loved the crunch. He got the lemons last; this was his kitchen, his space, so he knew exactly where to find the fruit and the knife appropriate to cut with.

Raph added half of the slices; instead of just throwing the other half of the sour fruit away, he simply tossed it into his mouth and ate it whole. Bitter as it was, food was still food, and he refused to waste one bit of it. Another rush of wind tickled Raph’s carapace, but to the turtle it was like being hit with a brick. Especially when he saw the specter appear behind him, hurrying past the kitchen door with a steady clank clank clank of heavy footsteps. Raph swore loudly, rushing to place the water on the counter and free his hands up to grab his sai. Whatever that thing was, no way it could be left wandering the lair with his little brother hurt! Not if he had anything to say about it, and he did.

He pursued the distant steps, his strides long enough to close the distance in enough time to see the curtains that sectioned off Donnie’s lab flutter. 

“Got you now you little—” Raph yanked the curtains open, flashing his weapons in a threat against—!

Nothing. There was nothing there. There was no spot in Donnie’s lab that could hide anyone of any significant size, but maybe if the intruder was small…? That was the only explanation because Donnie’s lab was tucked into a corner and there would have been no way for the stranger to escape without Raph seeing him. Raph started to look in every nook and cranny that held the possibility of hiding someone. Under desks, behind machines, behind the monitors. Whatever it was had disappeared into thin air! Or maybe…

Raph found his eyes drifting to a particular artifact on Donnie’s shelf; an M-shaped medallion with a cross through the middle of it, glistening gold and orange. A fiberglass casing protected the special gift from their counterparts that they had yet to use. The past two years had been very eventful, and it was with a heavy sigh Raph realized that, with all the visits their counterparts had made to see them, they had yet to return the favor and visit the other world. Even after going so long without a visit from their other selves, Leo had still denied every request to visit them instead. Raph felt a weight in his throat. He missed his friends, and he hoped they were okay. It had been six months with no word from them…

“Raph?” Leo’s sharp words cut through Raph’s somber thoughts. Raph looked over his shoulder to see Leo come into the lab, nostrils flaring his frustration as he confronted his brother. “What are you doing in here?”

“I… I was just…” Raph didn't know how to explain it, so his words fell short. He half-motioned over to the pendant gift, and then around at the lab. 

Leo sighed and shook his head. “You were supposed to be getting water for Mikey. Come on.”

Raph wanted to think of a snarky remark, but nothing came to mind as he followed Leo out of the lab.

[yesiwasateenagewerewolf]

One of the things Eddie liked about his friends was how commanding they were.

Bill always decided what they’d play. He was their fearless leader.

Eddie had followed him into battle, into strange new worlds, to the centre of the earth and into outer space. He would follow Bill anywhere without needing to be asked.

Bill was his brother in arms, his commander. He told Eddie to jump and Eddie jumped as high as he wanted. He would have jumped through hoops for Bill, like a performing dog, because Bill always seemed so pleased when they listened to him.

Stan always knew what was real and what was unreal, something Eddie valued when his own grasp on reality felt decidedly shaky. When his mother told him he hadn’t taken his pills although he was sure he had or when she clasped her hand to his forehead and forbade him from going out because he had a temperature even though Eddie felt fine and the thermometer showed normal.

If Stan said something, Eddie knew he could believe him. Stan was practical. He was a boy scout. He could tie knots and light fires. He could identify poison ivy.

Richie always made the first move.

Eddie liked that a lot.

He liked that Richie never asked him why Eddie let him kiss him, never asked him what Eddie’s easy conquest meant.

Richie never asked so Eddie never needed to think about it. He never needed to put a name to the feelings swirling inside him, never had to confront the fact that he’d never looked at a girl - not even Beverly Marsh who was the prettiest girl in school - but that he let Richie Tozier kiss him silly until they were laughing into each others mouths, drunk on the thrill of it.

Richie noticed girls. He talked about them all the time, about who had the better tits and who was rumoured to put out if you bought her dinner first. He’d never had a girlfriend, but Eddie figured it was only a matter of time.

Maybe he’d still keep kissing Eddie once he had a girlfriend. Eddie didn’t think he’d care if Richie was dating as long as Richie still crawled into the attic over the garage with him, the two of them in their secret spot that his mother couldn’t follow them to, and still kissed him until they were hyped up on the joy of it, nervous energy from the stolen kisses thundering through them.

Richie never made him ask for his kisses.

Eddie would sit there, glancing side long at him, lashes fluttering and cheeks pink, but he’d never voice the things he wanted, didn’t know the words for them even if he could find the courage.

Richie always kissed him though.

The moment they were alone, he always kissed him, and Eddie appreciated that.

[youngdreamer3214]

Robrae prompt number 13

Assume Standard Disclaimer

Tumblr Prompt #13. “It was always you."

I hope you enjoy reading this. Please read and review.

Robin + Raven Pairing

Fluff alert!

0O0O

Ahem, ahem

Raven looked up from the book in her lap with an irritated sigh, just when the plot was becoming interesting. She took a deep breath calming her emotions as she took in the sight in front of her; irritation and anger were replaced by affection and surprise.

In front of her was Robin, her best friend and leader standing with a million dollar smile, his unusually bare blue eyes, twinkling as he looked at her. She tried to calm her rapidly beating heart and tried to remain stoic and raised her eyebrow in question.

When her heart started behaving like this around him, even she didn’t know. Maybe it was after he braved through hell to find her, or when he started confiding in her, or when he gained her trust or maybe she always felt this way. Maybe her heart always did flutter around him only she didn’t notice until recently.

He was someone she trusted, someone who understood her no matter how different she was. He never judged her, always made her feel comfortable. He made her feel like she belonged.

She slowly started opening up and he was there to support and guide her through these uncharted waters, it took time but he patient and slowly closeness developed between the two. Something that not many people could understand, mistaking them for a couple but that didn’t matter to them.

It was theirs and that’s all they cared about.

His grin got wider and her knees felt weak, suddenly she was thankful that she was sitting. He took a couple of steps towards her, his one hand behind him making her look at him in question.

“What is it?” she asked impassively, trying to maintain her monotone voice but it getting difficult by the minute with him flashing his heart stopping smile.

“I found myself near a bakery…and when I saw these I thought of you.” He says handing her the package he was hiding behind him.

She eagerly took the package from his hands and smiled looking at the cookies in the bag and grinned at him. It was a well-known fact that Raven had a massive sweet tooth, but her extreme fondness for cookies was something only he knew.

Affection was swooning inside her, going on about his thoughtfulness and how he knew her better than anyone else, even her. She was edging Raven to confess her feelings to him, like she had been doing for the past year and a half but the fear of rejection won over.

Like always.

She wondered if she would ever get enough courage to confess her feelings or if she would live in the fear of rejection forever.

She snapped out of her thoughts when he quickly stole a cookie for himself and took a bite before she could say anything and grinned at her. She frowned at him and his smile got even wider, he knew how much she hates sharing her sweets with anyone.

“You just declared war.” She stated and took a couple of steps towards him making him step back, that cheeky grin still on his face.

“Hey I got them for you…you can share one.” He replied and started running a bit when he saw her approach him quickly. She chased him around tower, suddenly thankful that the rest of the team had gone out or they would have gotten teased endlessly.

Robin’s laughter echoed through the silent hallways of the tower with Raven letting out a few smiles of her own. After a little while, getting tired of the chase, Raven summoned her powers and teleported in front of him.

The raven haired man looked back expecting to see the dark beauty running behind him but stopped when he couldn’t hear her thundering footsteps. Before he could understand her strategy she materialized in front of him and had the pleasure of seeing him startled. There weren’t many things that could startle their fearless leader and Raven smiled at achieving this.

She took a step forward but unknowingly stepped on something slippery and fell, bracing herself for impact she was about to summon her powers when something stopped her fall. Amethyst met blue and her heart stopped with their proximity.

She could feel his warm hands on her waist, his touch seeping through her clothes and burning on her skin. She reached up and placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat fast and strong beneath making him tighten his hold on her, bringing them closer.

His eyes were twinkling as he slowly leaned in and Raven closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. Current flowed through her body as he deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping tightly around her pulling her even closer.

The empath slowly started to respond; all her senses just shut down focusing on him and only him as her hand which was resting on his chest slowly wrapped around his broad, muscular shoulders as her other hand tangled themselves in his dark locks.

Slowly they parted for air, as he started kissing her all over her face, peppering her with his affection. Both of their chests were heaving and just as Robin leaned down and started kissing her neck Raven snapped back into her senses and pushed him, standing straight and taking a few steps back from him.

She tried to contain her flustered state as she looked at him, his muscular chest heaving a little and his muscles rippling as he ran his hand through his hair, a habit of his when he is nervous or confused.

“What are we doing Richard?” she asked, trying to contain her nervousness.

“What I have always wanted to do but have never had the courage.” He said slowly walking towards her.

“What about Starfire?” She asked, remembering all the pain and heartache she got when she looked at both of them together, sharing a closeness that she could never even fathom having with anyone, let alone him.

“She’s my friend…there is nothing between us.” He answered standing just a few paces away from her.

“But she is so much better for you than me.” His heart broke when he saw that she truly believed her words, that she felt that she wasn’t good enough.

“But she is not you Raven.” He said tilting her face so that he could look into her eyes and he hated the defeat he saw in them. “You are the one of most amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, you are kind even if you don’t like to show it, you are brave, strong and the most understanding person in my life.”

“Raven, you are someone I connect with, someone who understands me and the one who I love.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his and he smiled at her and said “It was always you, Raven…always you.”

She smiled and leaned up, claiming his lips with hers and wrapping her arms around him, pressing their bodies together. He devoured her lips as he lifted her and trapped her between the wall and his muscular body. She wrapped her legs around his waist as once again her senses dimmed away only focusing on him. Electricity flowed through their veins as their kiss deepened, their bodies pressed impossibly closer not knowing when one started and the other ended.

She slowly parted getting a little space between them as their chests heaved but didn’t stray from their position as she leaned forward and lightly kissed his ear, smiling when she felt him shiver and whispered in his ear, like it was a secret for them and only them “It was always you for me too Richard…always.”

He smiled before claiming her lips again.

Fin.

[puddygeeks]

Dusk Till Dawn - Dragon Age Inquisition - Cullen/Inquisitor

Masterlist

Rating: Suitable for all

A/N: This is actually my first ever piece of writing from the perspective of an existing character, especially a male so cut me some slack whilst I experiment with this new venture. I also do not tend to write in the 3rd person, so this piece has been a learning curve for me. However, I felt hugely inspired to write a fluffy piece about my fluffy boy, so enjoy! Let me know if you’d like to see more DA based content from me in future.

Summary: Commander Cullen struggles to maintain a professional, working relationship with the Inquisition’s fearless leader. As the realisation dawns on him that his thoughts linger on her, he begins to question whether the feeling is mutual.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/Lavellan

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Perhaps some mild spoilers?

Standing across the war table, hand placed comfortably on the hilt of his sword, Commander Cullen focused on remaining professional. 

Their fearless leader assigned missions and plotted political manoeuvres that would shape the very fabric of all the Kingdoms in Thedas. Despite being plucked from relative obscurity, she rose to this responsibility as if made for it and led the rapidly growing Inquisition with grace and wisdom. 

Without warning, her large, almond shaped eyes met his and he felt his very spirit stir at the subtle connection between them. Buried in the deep hue of her eyes, he could always sense some hidden power that was disguised by her petite frame and seemingly harmless appearance. 

He felt himself fidget on the spot, an involuntary movement that had escaped his carefully controlled facade and he noticed a slight smile lurking in the corners of her mouth. 

There was a hint of playfulness in the way that she viewed him, he thought, before she swept from the chamber, leaving it notably colder by her absence. Surely he must have been mistaken. She was an icon, a force of nature in the crumbling world and would never view him as anything more than her lieutenant.

“My, my. Are you blushing, Commander?” 

Leliana’s sickly sweet voice drifted from his side, tainting the drafty space with her sly implications. 

It was not the first time that suggestions of this nature had been made about him, but each time caused him to bristle with embarrassment in a manner that was entirely more revealing than intended. He made a sound that almost resembled a scoff at the absurdity of her statement, but it strangely combined with an awkward splutter that filled the bard’s usually pale face with a smug satisfaction. 

“I do believe you may be correct, Leliana. Our dearest Commander certainly does seem rather flustered. Why, I could not possibly suggest a cause for such a reaction.” Josephine taunted, her words coated in a barely concealed enthusiasm as she studied him over the top of her papers. 

Cullen cleared his throat in a joyless bid to regain some composure, as his colleagues gazed past him at each other with mischief gleaming in their eyes.

“Surely you both have other matters to attend to? Nobles to pamper, or spies to train?” He countered, a poignant lack of authority in his voice, as the women crossed their arms and met his suggestions with a blatant disdain.

The Inquisitor inspired courage and determination in the recruits, each viewing her as a symbol of hope and light in the darkness. For Cullen, however, she was a constant distraction and a trigger for his most regretful, tense behaviours. 

As time passed, he found that he was able to recognise traits within her that others were blind to. He was stunned by the depth of her kindness towards him. Regardless of the shame that he felt when presenting his issues with addiction for her judgement, he was always met with understanding and compassion. These were new experiences for Cullen and the emotions that they provoked in him were completely unexplored territory.

On the battlements of Skyhold, he embarked on his regular stroll to examine and assess their sustainability, when an unfamiliar sight caused him to pause in his tracks. Standing by the edge, staring out into the mountains with an intense expression was the Inquisitor, clearly deeply lost in thought. 

She didn’t seem to notice Cullen’s arrival, as her gloved hands gripped onto the stone wall and he recognised that the usual strength that radiated from her was absent. In what she believed to be a solitary moment, her defences were lowered and she had allowed herself an opportunity to be vulnerable. 

Cullen felt awkward witnessing this, feeling the familiar sensation of invading upon a sacred space as he’d often experienced throughout his youth in the Chantry.

“Are you going to stand and stare all day, or would you prefer to join me, Commander?” 

His stomach churned as her words cut through the tense silence and she turned to glance at him over her shoulder with a gentle smile. He blanched at her casual offer, feeling pressure compressing his chest and she returned to her pondering, blissfully unaware of the nerves that her presence summoned in him.

“I apologise, my lady. It was not my intention to intrude, nor to stare.” He managed to force the words out through the block in his throat, but as they left his mouth, he acknowledged the deeply ingrained formality in the way that he addressed her. She smiled fondly at nothing in particular. 

There was a stifling atmosphere as he realised that there was not another soul in sight and inwardly, he scolded himself for not recognising the absence of guards earlier. He knew that they had likely already shifted their positions out of respect, to allow her a moment of peace and he felt embarrassed at his perceived social blunder.

“You’re not intruding. You don’t need to tiptoe around me, you know. I don’t bite.” She commented idly and Cullen tightened his grip on his sword in stress. 

The instances of flirtatious remarks were mounting, an overpowering suggestion in his already cluttered mind and each new addition increased his difficulty in denying their presence. They were an ever present force, haunting him at all hours of the day with their desire to be acknowledged. He pushed it away, desperately pleading with his heart to allow him to remain focused and appropriate. The Inquisitor regarded him with an amused disbelief, as he remained at his cautious distance.

“Do you ever simply stop patrolling, or working, and allow yourself a few moments of peace? Our surroundings are idyllic. It’s wasteful not to appreciate them.” She urged, gesturing for him to join her and, unable to deny her request for a second time, he reluctantly marched over to her side with his legs feeling as heavy as led.

The view from the battlements was breath-taking, but it was difficult to fully realise it’s wonder beside the simple splendour of her beauty. She sighed wistfully, the pleasant sound causing a flutter in his stomach and he relished the circumstances that allowed him to witness her in a more relaxed state than he’d ever been entrusted with in the past. 

Surrounded by snowy mountains and without the usual bustle of demands pressing against them, the silence was no longer tense and Cullen allowed his shoulders to gradually lower into a comfortable slouch.

“We filled this empty shell with purpose and belief.” She began, breaking the silence in a sour manner. 

“The halls are bustling with people determined to bring change to our world and the courtyard has become a home to the faithful. Undeterred by all theories to the contrary, we’ve proven it possible to unite mages and templars against a common enemy, under a single, inclusive banner that fights for the freedom of all.” She detailed, as she listed achievements that should have filled her voice with pride, but instead the words rang hollow and her tone remained lacklustre. 

Cullen was unnerved by her raw, unenthusiastic demeanour that existed in stark contrast to the invigorating personality that she displayed in the company of her comrades. 

“And yet, at the head of this mighty cause is a single elf. Inquisitor Lavellan. Despite all of the titles, followers and respect, I am still merely a Dalish with a strange light imbued in my palm. My value is awarded as a result of missing memories that humans have interpreted as a symbol of divine intervention. Tell me, Commander Cullen, what certainty can you possess that I am worthy of such duty?” Lavellan turned to face him, her eyes alight with a storm of emotions that blazed from the inside and he was lost under the intensity of her doubt.

Words failed him as he floundered in search of an answer that could provide her with the peace that she so desperately desired. 

In his heart, he knew that his belief in her was greater than any other within this fortress, or indeed all Thedas itself. He knew that if he allowed himself to be honest, he could list all of the admirable qualities that he had long admired about the awe-worthy being before him. 

Regretfully, his terror of unveiling the depth of his devotion prevented him from granting her with honesty. Instead, he beheld her with a barely concealed state of adoration and she sighed in disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I’ve posed a question that you couldn’t possibly answer. I suppose I should know better than to burden others with my own insecurities.” She excused, turning her face from him with an unsatisfied void in her eyes that would remain with him for as long as he lived. 

The cool, crisp air tore through the gaps in their defences, carrying the loose sections of her silver hair out behind her like wings and only exaggerated her appearance to him as some kind of ethereal being. 

As his gaze explored her features, he noticed that her nose and cheeks glowed in a delicate shade of pink that spread to the tips of her gracefully pointed ears and he wondered how long she had been standing here, allowing her exposed skin to grow cold. He ached to lighten her burden, to remove the knot that formed between her brows as she battled the responsibilities that threatened to crush her beneath their weight and against his better judgement, his answer began to flow freely from his lips.

“In all of my years as a templar, I have followed leaders of many different titles. Each of them possessed their own approach, their own qualities that influenced their choices and shaped their time in power.” He recounted, uncertain of the confessions that might escape his lips as he spoke without restraint.

“Never have I known any other to rise from the ashes as you have, nor for the people to elect them with such fervent belief. They follow you with unshakable faith, as do I, not because of your origins, your race or your rumoured holiness. They follow because of your decisions, because you lead with a grace and wisdom that comes from deep within and is unique to your formidable soul.” 

“You are the Inquisitor not because of the anchor that you wield, but because there is no other who could fulfil this duty as you have. You are indisputably, unfathomably, exceptionally more than ‘merely a Dalish’, Lady Lavellen.” He spoke with conviction and with every shred of reasoning, he observed her becoming increasingly humbled by his confession. 

Of course, Cullen knew her name, but he wouldn’t dare to address her by it, believing that it disrespected her journey and consequent struggles to earn the title which she now held. Her eyes grew wide and it was clear that she was shocked by the passion of his words, whilst he waited in a terror ridden state, fearing that he had absolutely revealed too much.

“It is incomprehensible to me that you are capable of such earnest insight into others, whilst believing yourself to be scarcely more than a failed ex-templar.” She surveyed him with a sympathetic, yet frustrated expression and as often would occur in her company, Cullen found himself lost for words. 

When under her gaze, he felt unworthy of the praise that she often bestowed upon him and could not fathom her unwavering faith in him. Even when he had suggested that Cassandra replace him, Lavellan refused to allow him to relinquish his position and insisted that he could defeat his demons to abstain from the use of lyrium once and for all. There was no doubt in his mind that she made him a better person, but in spite of all his improvement, he still could not even begin to imagine himself as deserving of her fondness.

Lavellan turned from the wall to face him fully, closing the distance between them until she was nearer than he’d ever had cause to be. In such proximity, he could smell the natural scent of flowers and herbs on her skin, admired the sun that glinted in her eyes and his face flushed with a heat that exposed his exhilaration. 

For longer than he could ever truly admit, he had laid awake at night, imagining what a privilege it would be to touch her, but he would never be so bold as to attempt such a sin. Involuntarily, he gulped as she pouted her plump lips thoughtfully and his heart pounded with such intensity that he felt concerned that it could cease to function at any given moment. 

She leaned forward at a painfully gradual pace and had to shift her balance onto her toes in order to reach him. With ice tinted lips, she placed a single delicate kiss on his cheek, contrasting sharply with the burning of his skin. 

Instead of immediately moving away she lingered there, her breath tickling his neck as her mouth brushed his ear.

“Your faith extinguishes my fear, unlike any other.” She whispered, her words burning into Cullen’s mind like a brand from an iron that could never be compromised. 

All of his senses seemed to be intensified, as he committed every minute detail to memory for fear that this experience may not occur more than once. When she leaned back into his field of vision, her features glowed with fondness and he simply gawped at her in amazement. 

“You put my heart at ease, Cullen. Thank you.” She admitted with a relaxed sigh and without a further word, or any indication that she would explain the meaning behind this statement, she parted from him. 

As Lavellan’s delicate steps echoed down the stone staircase, Cullen remained rooted to the spot, obsessively analysing the conversation and wondering if he’d perhaps misunderstood. Perhaps the mountain of comments in his mind that he’d long considered to be indulgent, self-delusion had accumulated into something more significant than he’d ever dared to imagine.

[neocity-sarai]

Simulations [PART 1]

❃ pairing: reader x mark lee (divergent! au)

❃ alerts: making out, suggestive content, language, violence/ injuries, blood, angst

❃ song rec: find you by zedd ft matthew koma

You remember it all. You remember the morning of your choosing ceremony, the way your parents and brother smiled at you when your crimson blood fizzled into the bowl of burnt coal. 

Dauntless. You were born and raised in Dauntless, the faction of the brave- the faction of teetering between life and death. You were sure of yourself, you would climb the ranks like rungs of a ladder. And that- you did. You trained as an initiate soldier under the leaders until you rose to the top of your class. When it was time, the faction held a ceremony for inducting you into their ranks- you were one of Dauntless’s fearless leaders now. You’d walk among your mentors as equals instead of their student. Looking back on how you were as an initiate, you were scrawny. You didn’t have much muscle on you, you had no idea how to shoot or how to engage in combat. The amount of times you cried out of frustration, staying up late in the training ring just to improve. Luckily, you had Mark. Mark was the same age as you when you were initiates, his frame only a little bigger than yours. His family lived in the same sector as you. He was always sweet. The familiarity of his doe eyes and carved cheekbones, the way that his bangs flopped flat a little over his eyes. When your instructor assigned you both as combat partners, Mark held your waist firm as he helped you strike the punching bag in front of you.

 You remembered the way his warm breath fanned on your neck and how your skin felt aflame to his touch. Many nights, you spent sparing with each other and downing energy drinks until the break of dawn. You felt yourself trusting Mark more than you had expected yourself to, his giggly outbursts made you smile and it felt like you weren’t alone. You endured every struggle together. Even when the other girls picked on you for being weaker or for latching on to Mark, he always defended you no matter what. After a couple years, you realized you watched Mark mature into the man he is today. His build is packed with toned muscle, and his hair curls over his forehead artistically- his hands covered in scars and old bruises. His face has gotten sharper too, his jaw tenses when he’s concentrated on something and his eyes glint with obsidian fire during training. Mark knows when the stand firm, rather than being an innocent, laughing mess- his demeanor morphs into something more powerful. It is no surprise that you two had surged to the top, being chosen as Dauntless’s’ next leadership. Though, Mark still treated you like a longtime friend of his, his cheeks still redden when your brush hands. 

[4:00 PM]

Before you could become fully deemed as leaders, you both had to undergo one last test. You and Mark would have to do a partner simulation, a board derived from all the other factions watching you both with hawk eyes. You were lead into a blank room, the walls empty of any words or any decor as you were motioned to sit in a chair next to Mark. The Erudite woman who had pale skin and ocean eyes glared at you before attaching neuro-nodes to your temples- the wires connecting over to Mark. With no emotion, her voice cold, “Lean back.”

You look at Mark beside you, “Are you ready for this?”

He answers you in a soft tone, “If you are.”

Nodding, the woman jabs a syringe of violet liquid into the juncture of your neck, a wave of vertigo taking over your brain. You can’t feel your fingers and your eyelids feel heavy, all you can hear is Mark’s groan in the room.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself in a room of mirrors. The ground feels cold underneath your back- Mark isn’t beside you either.

“Mark? Where are you?”

Looking around, you only see reflections of yourself- multiple views making you dizzy. For a few moments, you hear Mark’s stern voice, “Y/n? Hello?”

“Mark I’m over here!”

“Hello?? Y/n?”

Mark can’t hear you. He can’t even see you. You rise from the ground, your knees shaking as you continue to call for Mark. Your heart sinks when you start to hear a low gear-grinding sound, the mirror walls are starting to enclose in you. That’s right, you were afraid of tight spaces. You heave in and out of your chest in order to try to calm yourself, your legs shaking uncontrollably. The walls are closing incredibly fast. You run across the floor, mirrors chasing you and glaring at you wherever you ran. You scream for Mark.

“Where are you?! Mark?! Help me!!”

Finally, you catch a glimpse of Mark in a corner mirror yet his actual body is nowhere to be seen. You scream for him to not move. All he can do is yell out your name, his brows furrowed with anguish. In a quickened speed, the mirrors start to buckle down towards you- noises screeching into your eardrums. You have to do something. When you turn around, three items lay on three pedestals: a baseball bat, a nail and hammer, and a lighter. Without hesitation, you’re immediately drawn to the baseball bat. Tossing it in your hand, you swing it into the mirror in front of you as hard as you can. The impact makes an ear-deafening sound, the mirror shatters into a thousand shards- some of them flying to nick your face. Through the mirror, Mark stands with a shocked look on his face, “Y/n?”

You practically trip through the mirror, you feel yourself falling before you can even reach out for Mark.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You’re falling- your eyes opening slightly to the ceiling of the white room that you’re sitting in before shutting your eyes again. This time, you’re standing in a field of buckwheat by the faction border, the gate that surrounds the entirety of the city grounds. You feel Mark’s frame bump against your back as he jolts from the contact.

“Y/n- oh god, you scared me.”

You throw your arms around him in response, his words coming out in a flurry of stutters, “That was close, wasn’t it?”

You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, “I thought I couldn’t find you and the walls were closing in and I had no-.”

Before he can pull you tighter against his chest, you hear a low grumble come from behind you. In an instant, you detach from Mark, turning to face a bloodthirsty carnivore a few feet away. You’re back to back again, one wolf threatening to leap at you in a few seconds, one other wolf in front of Mark as well. Mark tries coaxing the wolf, saliva dripping from the edges of it’s gleaming teeth. When you look beside you, there’s two pedestals to your right and two pedestals next to Mark as well. Your eyes glaze over the pound of steak that sits on the surface yet you grab the small handgun instead. You assume Mark does the same because you hear him click the safety off. 

Your breath turns shaky, your heart is beating out of your chest. You’ve learned to shoot but you’ve never shot an animal before. Mark turns his head to the side to talk to you, “On three okay? I’m right here, don’t be afraid.”

You suck in air into the chamber of your lungs, cocking your gun before the growling wolf, it’s eyes like shiny, yellow orbs. 

Like a slow, painful countdown, Mark begins, “1...2...3.”

You shoot together, bullets ringing in the air as you feel the blow all the way down to your bones. It knocks you off your feet in time for Mark to steady you with his arms. 

“It’s over now. It’s over.” he says. Mark was tough but he never wanted to kill.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see the carcasses of the two wolves- the smell of blood wafting below your nostrils. You feel sick. When you don’t open your eyes, you feel warmth disappear from your body as you hear Mark calling your name. Suddenly, you feel yourself becoming submerged in icy water, your lungs screaming for air. Opening your eyes, all you see is the murk of the water, you don’t feel Mark next to you. Swimming to the surface, the weight of your water-logged clothes feels as heavy as gold bars. Coughing, you swivel around for any sign of Mark. You’re in the middle of the ocean, the sky is a stormy sage color as ash gray clouds swirl into a cyclone. It reminds you of the story your mother told you as a child: a pirate who was lost at sea, trying to navigate the high waters in search of treasure. 

You scream Mark’s name as loud as you can, struggling to stay afloat. There’s no answer. You decide to dive back into the depths of the ocean, swimming downwards to get a better view. When you catch a shadow sinking to the bottom, you immediately recognize Mark’s body. You waste no time to heave him closer to you, kicking your legs until you reach the surface. Holding Mark’s body is difficult, his eyes are peacefully closed as his hair lays soggy against his forehead. You rub your thumb against Mark’s cheek, “Mark? Wake up! Mark?”

He doesn’t answer you, his head falls limp in your touch. Why wasn’t he conscious? What should you do? You look around, your body freezing from the icy temperature when you don’t see any nearby land. Your limbs go numb. Despite the freezing pain, you grip onto Mark’s jacket, both of your bodies slowly losing traction. You’re both sinking. When you’re down under, you feel your breath hitch. Is this the end? Will the simulation fry your brain? Will you drown and lose everything? Mark’s always had the fear of drowning. He’s mentioned that ever since he had an incident of falling into the river.

Finally, you feel the ocean fall away. Your hair and your clothes are still wet yet you feel yourself sitting on a windy terrace. You’re high up on a skyscraper, the cold wind blowing at your face and it makes you shiver. You feel Mark rest his head on your chest, you’re still cradling him. Sweeping wet hair out of his eyes, you swipe your thumb on his cheek, “Mark? Are you awake?”

He flutters his lashes a bit, his eyes opening to adjust to his surroundings. 

“Y/n? Where are we? What happened?”

You turn to look behind you, the terrace dropping down into the city grounds. You were sure you were at least on the 50th story of a tower. You feel petralized in fear, you never liked heights either. This was the simulation test- the test of fears and what you would do to overcome them. Or in a corrected term, manipulate them. 

“Hey, look at me.”

You snap up to face Mark, his endearing eyes boring into yours, “We’re in this together. Just like always.”

Nodding at him, you whisper, “Right. Together.”

The tight beam that extends from the terrace you both sat on to the platform by the next building over does not go unnoticed by you. You feel like you want to throw up, “They don’t expect us to cross do they?”

Mark huffs as he runs a hand through his jet-black hair, “I think that’s why they put us right in front of it.”

Mark stands up first, placing his foot onto the concrete beam to check its sturdiness. It doesn’t seem to move. You see Mark turn back to you, the wind rustling his hair and his jacket, “I’ll be with you the whole way. Don’t look down and keep your eyes on me.”

In that moment, you questioned if you ever fit into dauntless. I mean, you had to if you got this far. You always admire Mark for his strength and his bravery, could you be like him? Mark goes first, one foot in front of the other as he attempts to shuffle along the concrete beam. He fastens the balls of his feet to the ground in hopes the gusts won’t send him falling to his death. Your heart pings, a tear threatening to slip out of your eyes. You place one foot onto the beam, your other foot still on the terrace. Mark calls out for you, “Slow and steady. Take your time.”

You feel your knees wobble like jello, you’re afraid that they’ll give out any minute. Placing your hand on your chest, you bite the drawstring of your jacket in order to calm yourself. The drop below you looks extremely menacing, you can even see all the roads that line the ground under you. Immediately, you feel the beam shake from the movement of the wind against it. You try to hold your ground, steadying your feet on the thin beam. You miscalculated. You miss-stepped. You don’t even register when blood-curdling cries escape from your throat as you lose your footing and tumble off the beam. Mark’s figure screaming for you grows smaller and smaller as you fall away. You shut your eyes, is this it? The wind surges through every layer of fabric that covers you, hair whipping against your face painfully. 

That’s when you feel a body hug you, arms wrapping around your frame. Mark screams, his chin resting on your shoulder. He says, “I’m not letting you go!”

That’s the tightest you ever have held Mark. You take in his scent, his locks brushing against your eyes- the feeling of his arms encasing your body. You give him a comforting squeeze, “You should’ve gone on without me.”

When you’re sure that you’re about to collide with the ground, you hear an applause. You hear an audience clapping for you and Mark after you gasp up from the chair you sat in, you claw for air. Mark does the same, his chest heaving violently as sweat trails down his face. The erudite woman strips off your neuronodes, clicking her tongue at the both of you. 

“Did we fail?” You hear Mark ask her.

With the same emotionless voice, she says, “That you’ll have to find out.”

The woman leads you both to an open auditorium, numerous stands of screens reside in the center of the room. On the jumbotron, it reads: “Congratulations. Welcome to Dauntless Leadership.”

You feel Mark grab your hand out of shock, “We passed?”

The first person to approach you is Taeyong, one of the mentors who oversaw you and Mark during training. A wide smile extends from one ear to the other as he motions you both into his arms, “Congrats you two. You’re officially dauntless leaders now.”

You eye Mark with surprise, your jaw open, “But we didn’t make it across. I fell?”

“That might be true but Dauntless is about courageous sacrifice. It’s about loyalty.” You snap up your eyes to a woman, one taller than Taeyong. Judging by her silver uniform, her tattooed head, and her gorgeous green eyes, she must be one of the higher ups. She shakes your hand first, “You two make a good team, sacrificing life in order to follow your principles for the other person. We need kids like you.”

Mark exhales, “No way.”

Taeyong pulls you both into a group hug, “We’re gonna be celebrating tonight!”

When Taeyong lets go, Mark swings you in his embrace, “We did it!”

You smile at him, “You saved me Mark.”

Mark grins until his cheeks rise, “No, I just did what I needed to in the moment.”

“But you could have crossed without me!”

Shaking his head, Mark stiffens, “Didn’t I say earlier? I wasn’t going to let you go.”

[8:00 PM]

That night, the party went on for hours. The Dauntless Pit is what they called it- the deep cavern where all the excitement happened. Tables were filled with feats of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, leaders and initiates filling their plates with the morsels. Once you claimed your portion of food, you sat next to Mark towards the end of one table. He grinned at you, sipping his metal cup of orange juice. Taeyong made a cheers to the both of you, the dauntless leaders banging their cups to the table like a mantra- a sign of respect and honor. Some of the younger kids you supervised training for congratulated you too, you remember how the girls made puppy eyes at Mark. Of course, he was oblivious to it. Laughing, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You are met with a view of Lucas, one of your other comrades, “Y/n! Mark! I was just looking for you! What do you say to a good ol’ game of capture the flag?”

You raise your eyebrows at Lucas, “I’m fine with it if Mark’s okay with it.”

Mark nods, setting his cup down, “Let’s do it. We can go right now.”

Like that, everything felt like it was falling into place. You adjusted the strap of your dart gun that was slung around your shoulder, advising your team of a plan. Naturally, you were the team captain for one group and Mark the other. You saw him a formidable opponent as he knew your most used attacks and you knew his. Lucas laughed beside you, his gummy smile widening, “Mark’s gonna lose tonight!”

You nod, “Let’s beat him first. We can’t get too ahead ourselves.”

When it was time to go, you and Lucas led your team of initiates to the metal train. One by one, you ran with the train cars as they shook on their wheels that screeched against the tracks. You hoisted yourself into the door with ease, something you had trouble with when you first became an initiate. By the time your team made it on, Mark and his group had already packed themselves into the train. Mark gives you a smirk, “Just because we’re friends, it doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

You cackle, socking a punch into his clothed shoulder, “Don’t get too cocky Lee.”

Turning away, you see Lucas and Selene, one of your friends as well. Lucas whispers into her ear, “Are you sure they’re not dating yet?”

Selene giggles, a blush climbing up her cheeks. You make sure to shoot ice daggers from your eyes to Lucas and Serene while you mutter at them. 

“Quit it.”

You pray Mark doesn’t hear their teasing. After years of training together and advancing together, you always denied your crush on Mark. You kept trying to find excuses as to why you shouldn’t like the innocent dork turned dauntless leader. You fail at that. It’s impossible when Mark talks to you as if he likes you back or the way he’d help you learn new skills with an endearing look in his eyes. You’d rather not ruin the friendship you have, especially now that you both had a faction to lead.

“That’s our cue y/n.”

Mark pinches you slightly before flying to jump off the moving train. His group of initiates follow him with ease, many of the tumbling out in waves. You think to yourself, you can appreciate the way Mark looks. The way his figure is tight-fitted with black vests, black shirts, and black combat boots, the way his hair curls on his forehead. Why is that you admire Mark in times of urgency? Lucas snaps you out of your thoughts before following him to make your exit- you all leap off the train and onto the gravel. Following suit, you and Mark lead your teams to an abandoned part of the city. As always, buildings tower into the starry night sky, blocks and cones marking safe zones. Piles of rubble provide shelter during the game. You and Mark stop ahead of the group, turning around to face them.

You say, “Rules are easy, the goal is to obtain the other team's flags. Just don’t get shot.”

Mark holds up his gun, “Right, as y/n said, these babies are loaded with dauntless stun darts. You’ll feel stinging pain for about 10 seconds but it won’t kill you. Best of luck to everyone.”

Both of your teams part, your jade green flag in your hands. Mark holds a bright yellow one in his. 

Lucas snickers, “So, what’s the plan?”

You advise your team, “We should hide the flag somewhere that’s out of sight. Knowing Mark, he’ll climb to a vantage point that’s high off ground. We should hide ours low to the ground, set up a trap.”

And that’s what you do. You find one of the abandoned buildings that’s on the far side of the area, planting your flag in the center of the circular platform. 

“Alright everyone, half of you form a circle around the flag. Make sure you keep formation, Mark’s team will try to break you up. Other half is with me.”

Lucas stays behind to bolster the strength of the guarding ring, the rest of the initiates circling around the flag. Gripping your dart gun tighter, you and Selene lead you team back outside the building as you debrief them of what you predict Mark might do. You instruct them to lay lower to the ground, blending with the shadows of the debris that conceal certain areas. 

“The important part is the element of surprise. Mark likes order and having the upper-hand. We have to divide and conquer.”

When you make it to the middle area, you and Selene crouch behind a pile of concrete rubble as you motion your team to follow suit behind you. One of the girls on your team points at the tower that’s in view, the neon yellow flag sitting at the top. Just as you expected, Mark hid it on a high place which meant that only a couple initiates had room to guard it. 

Selene whispers at the team, “Most likely, Mark and his team are prowling towards the base of the tower. Everyone should scatter and blend in. Y/n and I will take on Mark and the guards up top.”

Like that, all of you skip across the ground- aiming your scopes to the distance in front of you. In an instant, stun darts fly in storms, causing whines to reach your ears. Some of your initiates get caught in the line of fire, falling as they cradle their legs and arms. You have to keep pushing on. You and Selene make it to a pile of debris that’s closer to the bottom of the tower. Selene puts her blonde hair into a ponytail before nodding at you, “I think Mark’s guarding on top. I’ll cover for you on the staircase.”

You nod back at her, patting his shoulder with your gloved hand, “Let’s go.”

Shooting the guards at the entrance door, you swing it open with ease. Selene takes down the guard who’s on the first platform of the staircase. He yelps in pain, glaring at Selene as she daintily smiles down at him, “Oops, sorry about that!”

Selene follows behind while you take down some more initiates one by one, their pained grunts the only noise in the vicinity. Finally when you reach the top of the staircase, you hear more initiates yelling from where you first entered. Selene grins, “I’ll cover for you! Go take down your boyfriend!”

Before you can scold her for her words, she takes off down the staircase again- firing more shots when she runs. Inhaling, you kick down the door- shooting the first boy that you see in sight. He drops his gun, clutching his knee in pain as he attempts to scoot to the corner of the tower. Then, you’re met with Mark who stands right in your way of the flag. Defensively, you aim your dart gun at him, “I don’t hurt you but you’ll have to move aside.”

He quirks his eyebrows up at you, a smirk gracing his pink lips, “Why haven’t you shot me yet then?”

To his dismay, you shoot him square in the foot as he clatters to the ground with a pained grunt. His gun makes a sound when it crashes to the ground, scattering towards the other boy that lays helpless in his position. Just before you can wrap your fingers around the flag’s stem, you feel Mark wrap his arms around your torso, pulling you down. A shout escapes from your throat when you both go down together, your body on top of Mark. You try to struggle out of his grasp, wiggling as much as you can.

“Give up y/n, I got you now!”

Mark’s face contorts with pain when you use your elbow to jab him in the rib, his grip not relenting even a little. 

“This is so unfair! You’re way heavier than me!”

Mark laughs at you, “This is all part of the game, I’m not letting you win.”

That’s when you remember your own words. The element of surprise. You have to catch Mark off guard. With a surge of confidence, you turn your head to face him as his dark eyes are riddled with confusion. He has no idea. You shift forward, kissing a peck to the hollow of his neck. Just like you expect, he releases his grip before scrambling to sit up- his face is utterly flabbergasted. He turns red, the sight of him being so embarrassed makes you burst into laughter, he doesn’t look so tough anymore. Though, you don’t waste time. You advance towards the flag, waving it around in Mark’s shocked face. Even the boy who sits in the corner stares at you wide-eyed.

You jump and down in joy, “We won!!!”

You waste no time to blaze it through the tower window, the small figures of your teammates hooting and cheering on the ground. You hear Mark stutter, “H-hey! That’s not fair! You-”

Turning around, you press a finger on the ball of Mark’s button nose, “Gotcha!”

Mark and his teammate sulk behind you when you walk down the stairs in victory. Selene and Lucas so high that you feel like you can get sucked into the dark sky, silver stars swirling above you. The taste of winning sure is sweet.

[10:30 PM]

“How’s it feel to eat dirt Lee?”

He laughs at you on the way back to the Dauntless base, he leans against the wall of the train, “Whatever- you backed me into a corner.”

“And fair and square!”

Mark rolls his eyes, laughing, “I’ve won other times- this is nothing y/n.”

Lucas chimes in, “Mark’s just butt-hurt we won.”

Mark yells back, “Am not!”’

“Are too!”

You raise your voice, “Alright boys, that’s enough.”

All the three of you erupt into a fit of laughter, pushing each other as the initiates stare at you with bewilderment.

“Do you want to hang out for a bit more? I’m not tired?”

You raise your eyebrows at Mark, “After that? You’re not tired? Not tired from your beating?”

Mark shakes from laughter, “Don’t do that! Agh, you know what you’re doing.”

You let Mark lead you to his suite anyway. In Dauntless, most of the rooms looked like jail cells. They had grey concrete walls, beds that were as hard as nails, and only shared bathrooms. You recall the memories of when you and Mark had to sleep among dozens of initiates, the toilets didn’t even have separators. It felt like torture. When you moved up the ranks, Taeyong placed you in the leader suites- two large studios for each of you. Upon entering Mark’s room, it almost feels homey. The walls are still a drab grey yet there are black panels that line the area above Mark’s headboard, his bed made neatly. Mark goes to open the sliding door by his closet, the door opening up to his balcony. Mark chuckles, “Isn’t this better than the old dauntless rooms?”

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you reply, “Of course it is. Anything is better than the gross bathrooms.”

He walks over to you, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“No thanks, I think I’m good.”

For a few minutes, Mark perks up, bouncing with a pep in his step, “Do you mind if I change real fast? I feel sweaty.”

You nod, “I won’t be going anywhere.”

Sitting on Mark’s bed, you wait for him to come out of the bathroom. Everything in his room is orderly, from his clothes and his desk, everything's in it’s place. The room feels like Mark. When he comes out, you giggle at his clumsiness as you imagine Mark hastily fumbling with the buttons on his pajama shirt.

“You silly, the buttons aren’t right.”

You don't realize what you’re doing until you slowly unbutton each button on Mark’s black shirt, a red blush creeping over his face. He flicks his eyes to you, biting on his lower lip before looking down at your fingers. You try to ignore the erratic beating in your heart, the heat that travels up your back.

“There, all finished-”

When you look back up, you realize that Mark is only a few centimeters away. You memorize every knick in his skin and every eyelash that lines his eyes. Even in the poor lighting of his room, Mark still shines in front of you. The golden glow travels along Mark’s hair and onto the fabric of his shirt. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, “You’re so close.” That’s all you manage to say.

Mark whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

He searches your eyes for some kind of refusal. When he doesn’t find any, he crashes his lips into yours, his bottom lip folding over your own. You move your hand to Mark’s neck, tugging back on the hairs on his nape. He kisses you even more passionately, embers sparking up in your stomach. It’s no lie you’ve dreamed of kissing Mark for a long time. Mark rests his calloused, scarred hands on your waist as he pulls you into him, your noses bumping together. You feel Mark’s tongue push against your own, you had no idea Mark could kiss anyone like that. Pulling back, you stare at him, ‘You know- I just wanted to say that I’ve always admired you. Not for your looks but about your ability to help others and your selflessness, how brave you are and-”

Mark shuts you up with another heated kiss, pulling you down into his bed. He rests his forehead on yours as he holds your hand in his lap, “There’s something I need to say y/n.”

You listen to him, not wanting to miss a word, “What is it Mark?”

“Y/n, I like you.”

You pause before smiling to yourself, “Are you sure you want me? I’m kind of-”

“You. That’s all, no one else.”

You nod, pulling yourself into Mark’s lap, “Very well then Lee.”

You continue to massage his neck, sipping on his lips while you do so. You detach from him, nimbly undoing the buttons of his shirt. When he shrugs the garment off, you take note of the large dauntless flame tattoo on his chest, running your fingers over it. He stares up at you, placing his hand over yours when you glance down his toned body, his stomach packed with muscle. Mark proceeds to kiss up your neck, a moan eliciting from your throat. After taking off your long-sleeved sweater, you let Mark bloom purple marks on your skin. You hear him kiss against your collar bone, “It feels like I’m dreaming right now.”

You can’t help but laugh, “You’re not dreaming.”

Mark helps you undo your bra, your chest flushed against his. When you flip your hair out of your face, Mark’s eyes are filled with awe, “How are you so beautiful?”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, “I should be asking you that question.”

After revealing yourself to Mark, you have no regrets. He’s seen every part of you, marking you his territory when he kisses down your neck and your chest as you’ve called him yours. The balcony door is still open, a light breeze floating through Mark’s room. Resting your head on his chest, you hear him exhale into the pillows. He still wraps a strong arm around your figure, making sure you’re secured against him. You tap on Mark’s chest, “Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“What are you thinking about?”

You don’t expect Mark to ask you such a question. He sighs, “Y/n, do you want to run away together?”

You sit up, resting your head on your propped up elbow, “Mark, what do you mean?”

He turns on his side to face you, his cheek sunken into his pillow, “I heard in a meeting that Erudite plans to take over Dauntless. I’ve always thought about it: why be one thing? why be sorted into categories when we can just be people?”

Reaching a hand over, you play with his hair, “Wow, you must’ve thought about this huh? But where would we go?”

Mark’s eyes show a glimmer of determination, a fierceness that you’ve never seen in anyone else, “I hear there’s people outside the wall. Like a resistance. If we join them, couldn’t we be free?”

“Maybe. Who knows. We don’t know what’s out there. Isn’t that story a legend?”

Mark shakes his head, his eyes scanning your features, “No. I heard some Dauntless guards talking about people outside the wall by the border. They’re out there.”

Finally, you resort to laying on your back, sleep threatening to pull you under. You answer, “Mark, it would be so dangerous. What if the resistance doesn’t take us in? At least here, we have protection.”

Mark’s voice turns cold, “But not for long.”

You’re not sure what to say next. Instead, you feel Mark turn away from you as he shuts his eyes. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his bare shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just- my family’s here and the initiates, I’m scared to leave them behind.”

Mark doesn’t move, his eyes are still screwed shut. 

“I know. It’s wrong of me to expect you to drop everything and go. I don’t know myself.”

“Hey, look at me.”

Mark turns to look at you, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon that shines through his window. You press a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering there, “I’m with you. No matter what happens. Even if it means we have to leave, I’m willing.”

Mark slowly blinks, his lashes accenting his eyes. He leans up to kiss you once more, his thumb tracing the edge of your chin, “I’ll protect you. I love you y/n.”

You freeze from the sudden ease in Mark’s tone. You’re still sure of it. You press a kiss to the corner of his lip, “I love you too.”

[9:00 AM]

When morning comes, you jolt up from the nightmare that causes your body to shake with anxiety. You gasp, sitting up in Mark’s bed. What’s worse is that you don’t find him next to you. Throwing off the covers, you check the bathroom and the balcony. Mark isn’t here. You start to panic, you pray that Mark had woken up early to get breakfast or for some Dauntless meeting. After slipping on your shoes and putting on your clothes, you exit out of the Dauntless Leadership wing and head towards the pit. You feel a ball drop in your stomach when you see hundreds of initiates swarming the pit like a hive, all of them single file in the cavern. Some of the other dauntless leaders are corralling them like cattle. What’s even weirder is that the initiates don’t seem normal. 

You spot Lucas and Selene by the corner of the room, their eyes laced with some kind of magnetic trance. Everyone seems to be walking in a robotic manner like something’s controlling them from within. Why weren’t you controlled? That’s when you remembered Mark’s words. Erudite planned to overthrow Dauntless and the other factions. You step back into the shadows, quietly scanning the room for Mark. It’s impossible to see with so many people in one area. Before you can slink away, you feel a hand cover your mouth the instant you try to scream- you fall your eyes close from the loss of consciousness. 

When you awake, your vision is blurry and it’s difficult to hear anything. You see blobs of blue moving to talk to a white-haired woman dressed in navy, their lips saying, “Is she divergent?”

“I’m not certain, testing isn’t complete yet.”

You try to shake yourself awake, your limbs are tightly locked into the chair that someone has put you in.

“Ah- she’s awake.”

You blink twice, your eyes still adjusting to your environment. The white-haired woman looks down at you, her features as hard as ice, “Well hello y/n.”

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Jeanine. I lead Erudite. It seems as though our crafted simulation doesn’t work on you.”

Lifting your head, you stare around her. People dressed in blue coats pump syringes into tubes as they tap on glowing screens as well. Jeanine laughs, “I’m here to ask you a few things y/n. What did you get on your aptitude test?”

“Dauntless.”

Jeanine creases her eyebrows, inching closer to you, “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m dauntless born.”

Jeanine lets out a cynical laugh before smoothing down her bobbed hair, “Get rid of her. We’ll find the rest on our own.”

You start to yell at Jeanine, “You won’t get away with this! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

That’s when you can’t say a word. From behind Jeanine, Mark enters your view. His eyes are emotionless, the soft glow that once sparked up in his irises is now absent. He’s still wearing his black uniform from the night before, a pistol gripped in his hand. You hear an erudite employee ask, “Shouldn’t we do it outside?”

Jeanine shakes her head in refusal, her wicked smile curling on her lips. You scream Mark’s name, “Mark! hey! It’s me!”

He shows no sign of recognition. Like a mechanized soldier, he grips the back of your neck. Your hairs feel like they’re being tugged on too hard, the cold barrel of his gun pointed at your temple. Tears break like a dam as they flow down your cheeks, whimpering at Mark doesn’t do anything, “Mark..please… it’s me!”

Mark only grips your neck harder. His jaw tightens at the sight of you, his fingers on the trigger. If you weren’t restrained, you’d lean over to touch Mark’s face. You’d try to remind him of who you were and what you shared- how you told him you loved him for the first time last night. But you can’t. You just sob, “Mark..please..”

In a second, you hear a pin drop ring in your ears. Mark swivels away from you as hard as he can, firing the gun straight at Jeanine. Jeanine drops to the ground, blood spilling from the back of her thigh as she screams out in pain. It’s so fast that you have trouble registering what’s going on until Mark yanks off the belts that fasten your hands to the armrests of the chair before screaming at you, “Y/n! Get out of here now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

You spot Jeanine pressing her hand to her spewing wound, the other erudite members worriedly clamoring over her. 

Mark looks angry, his expression looks like he’s fighting some unknown force within him. You shake your head, “Let’s just run now! Just like you said!”

Mark grits his teeth in pain, his hands tightening into fists as if he’s resisting the urge to lunge at you again, “You have to leave now! Go where I told you! Follow the tracks!”

As much as you want to drag Mark with you, you know there’s no time. Instead, you close the distance in between you before kissing a messy kiss to his lips as you place your hand on the back of his neck. For a few seconds, you feel him kiss you back, his eyes are screwed painfully shut. Forcefully, Mark pushes you away from him- launching you towards the exit.

Jeanine yells, “Get him under control!”

You realize that you have to leave Mark behind. You grab one of the handguns that sits one of the racks before dashing out the double doors. Tears are streaming down your face, hot and painfully slow. Your legs hurt from the pain of running, you have to keep running. You have to get out of here- all of Dauntless is under simulation. They’re being played like puppets on a string, all for Erudite’s divine control. Remembering Mark’s words, you run as fast as you can. Your chest heaves with a lack of oxygen, you fly along the tracks of the train by the center of the city. Luckily when you hoist yourself into one of the train cars, you don’t see anyone else.

 You ride the train as it speeds towards the border wall that encloses the city. Leaning on the train wall, you sob into your knees, remembering Mark’s smile when he had first helped you onto the train car when you were initiates. You miss him. You miss his breathy laugh, the scent of mint and pine needles, the way he would play with your hair to make you grin. You miss your combat partner and you miss your friends: Lucas, Serene, and the others. You begin to realize that you had left your family behind too as you imagine their cowering figures in some hiding spot behind the Dauntless complex. Or maybe, they were put in a simulation too- walking around like mindless zombies as Dauntless soldiers order them around, gun barrels pressed to their backs. You can’t stop the tears that burn your skin, your fingers yanking at the fabric sweater that suffocates you. 

When the train stops, you raise your gun at any potential attackers as you carefully tread towards the wall’s entrance. For one last time, you stand in the grassy field. You take note of how there’s no clouds in the sky and the way the sun beats down on your face- the city reaching up to the heavens. When you look back at the city in the distance, all you can see is what you’ve lost. What you’re leaving behind. Still, there’s a small glimmer in your chest when you think of what lies on the other side of this wall. All the potential possibilities that could help you get your family back- Mark back. There’s no definite answer, whether there is a resistance force or nothing but a deserted wasteland. You’re about to find out yourself.

@czennienet @neowritingsnet @nct-writers​

[PART 2: Borderlands]  [PART 3: Redemption]

[machidielontheway]

Happy... late valentine ? birthday ?? have some blushy mushy stuff

[thundercakes22]

Space

This is not what Sam meant when he told Steve he wanted to go somewhere new on their honeymoon. Largely because, among other reasons, his husband is not here with him.

Sam stares at the small floating being made of pure light bobbing in front of him.

“Put me the fuck back.”

The orb stills. “Oh, but Mr. Falcon we need your assistance! Our fearless leader has lost contact with their smorpaq and their grief prevents them from fulfilling their duties to the clan. We’ve heard tales of your great wisdom and enlightened counsel on matters of the ventricles, and hoped you would come to our aid.”

“So you abducted me?” Sam shouts. Wisdom, he hears his father’s voice in his head. Options, opponents, allies, exits. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Four counts in, six counts out. “‘Tales of my greatness’? From who ? And what the hell is a smorpaq?” Sam has about 46 more questions,  but those seem the most pertinent. He shakes his head, using the movement to take in his surroundings.

“A smorpaq is ummm, a companion? No, that’s not the word.” There’s a gurgling noise above Sam's head and the light seems to bob harder as if in agreement. Sam very pointedly does not look up. “Ah yes, spouse. That’s the word. A life partner, if you will.”

Sam sighs. He’s being kidnapped across light years to be a royal marriage counselor.

“The captain mentioned you upon our last encounter,” the orb continues, brightening at the words.

Sam can feel his blood pulse in his temple.  “What captain? Because the only aliens my captain knows would know better than to just snatch me up out of his bed. My captain who is probably down on Earth tearing Stark and NASA a new one trying to get his husband back.” Sam tries to ignore the happy flutter in his gut at the new title. Not now , he thinks. Gotta get back to him first.

“But Captain Marvel—”

“Carol!” he mutters like a curse. “Of course it was Carol. You give an all powerful friend relationship advice once and suddenly she’s recommending you as some kind of intergalactic therapist.”

The little light flickers hesitantly.

Sam shoves his annoyance down, quietly thankful that the situation seems more annoying than dangerous. “Okay, look. I hear that you all need help, and I sympathize. Unfortunately, even when I was a counselor, this wasn’t my job. And if it was, I would not be leaving my husband less than a week after our wedding to go save someone else’s marriage. Understand?”

The orb droops. “Understood, Mr. Falcon.”

“Now,” Sam pushes his shoulders back and straightens his robe where it covers his otherwise naked chest and boxer briefs. “I demand that you return me to my husband so we can all move on with our lives.”

“Of course, Mr. Falcon. We’ll reunite you with your consort, posthaste.”

There’s a faint tintinnabulation behind him and a familiar gasp. Sam spins around just in time to catch his flustered husband, rushing towards him with arms wide open.

“Sam!” Steve pulls him in, cradling the back of his head like he’s something precious thought lost. Sam feels his posture ease as he’s wrapped in Steve’s familiar scent before he tenses up again.

“This is not what I meant!”

Samtember prompt fill

--7 of 30

[pilot-boi]

It’s Only Teenage Wasteland

Sirens are wailing in the bowels that creepy laboratory in the woods, but the sleepy inhabitants of the town nestled in between the trees didn't know about that. They were far too busy with their own, ordinary lives to worry about the supernatural forces threatening their dimension at this very moment.

It would be a shame if something happened that would make the two disparate worlds collide.

Looking out a dirty old window Down below the cars in the city go rushing by I sit here alone and I wonder why

AO3 LINK

Date: November 6th, 1983

Location: Beacon, Indiana

It’s dark outside. Stars twinkle in the velvety black sky above the Beacon National Laboratory. A huge monolith of steel and concrete that sat in stark contrast to the sleepy forest surrounding it.

Crickets were chirping and hopping among the cars still parked in the lot. If they so chose, the insects could have peered through the wide glass door at the entrance to see the lights flickering wildly in the off-white lobby.

If the apparently extremely resourceful crickets had wiggled through the air vents to gain entrance to the lab, they would have found a twisting maze of doors and hallways, all lit only by the same madly flickering fluorescent lights. There were no people.

Deep in the bowels of the eerily empty lab is one such abandoned hallway. The air was heavy down there, and in the air hung a faint scent of chemicals or maybe...ozone? The hall splits, and twists, and turns, eventually leading to a heavy steel door. This door, like the others lining the hall, is rounded slightly and bolted to the wall. Like the doors in a submarine.

Or a bomb shelter.

With a crash a man burst through the door at the end of the hallway. The sound of numerous alarms blaring followed him out of the room and split the silence like a knife through butter. His lab coat billowed in the breeze left behind him as he sprinted down the dimly lit hallway.

The lights reflected dully off the linoleum under his feet as he ran. He glanced behind him to check if that...that thing was following him. The hallway was blessedly empty, but this only set the man’s heart beating faster.

His breath was catching in his throat, and he skidded to a halt in front of the closed elevator doors. Before he’d even stopped, his hand was already battering the call button to the left of the doors. The clicking of the button mingled with the alarms that were still clamoring for attention and only served to increase his panicked need for the elevator to arrive.

A loud bang echoed down the deserted hall behind the scientist, not unlike the one he’d made when he’d barged through the other door. The scientist’s head whipped around to stare, pupils blown wide, down the hall towards the distant sound. The man hadn’t thought it was possible for his heart to pound harder, but he’d learned stranger things today.

Things he’d gone his whole life without knowing, and that he would have gladly continued to not know.

He was still slamming down the button when the doors dinged open. They moved agonizingly slowly. He hopped from foot to foot, glanced over his shoulder one last time, and stumbled the thr finally open elevator doors.

When his instincts forced him to turn to face the open door of the elevator, the scientist felt a curl of anxiety-riddled relief settle in his stomach. The lights were flickering more than ever, the distant alarms had only gotten more frantic, and none of his coworkers had joined him in the elevator. However, the empty hall reassured him that the thing hadn’t followed him.

It had torn Richardson apart.

He’d hated the guy, but still. It’d been tough to watch.

Overhead, the lights flashed fully off for a full second and when they turned on, he thought...he thought he saw a shape. Like a person standing there. But not like any person he’d ever seen working at the labs. There was something wrong with that silhouette, but the brief glimpse he’d gotten of it hadn’t been enough to pin down what was wrong.

As if that shape wasn’t enough, there was a noise. There was...what the actual hell was that noise?! It was deep, and fluttering, and high pitched. Like a growling stomach starved of food, and the chattering of a rabid squirrel all rolled into one. No creature he’d ever heard sounded like that, living or mechanical.

The relief he’d been feeling only moments before dissipated as quickly as water in the hot Indiana summer sun. Dread flooded his system as he slowly turned his face towards the ceiling of what he was rapidly realizing was a very small metal box.

A very small metal box with only one exit, and that one was closing.

Oh God...oh God its face! Its face [REDACTED] and it lifted him into the air. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming or if it was screaming. It sunk its [REDACTED] into his chest. He could feel it [REDACTED]

It was [REDACTED]

It [RED ACT TE D]

[RE D A C

Pop-up sprinklers watered the lawn of a large, lived-in looking house. They sounded remarkably like the thing from the elevator, but the accompanying sounds of the neighborhood displaced any further similarities.

Amber colored street lights hummed softly overhead, a dog barked in the distance, and across the street a car door slammed as someone returned from work. The Arc family station wagon was parked in the driveway, and a pair of bikes could be seen propped in the cluttered garage. One had streamers duct-taped to the handlebars and was covered in brightly coloured decals. The other was dark green, and it had a headlight attached to the front.

Neither of these bikes belonged to the residents of the house, or they would’ve joined the mass of bikes, skateboards, and scooters littering the garage.

With all the smaller vehicles filling the space, it was really no wonder that the car was in the driveway.

“I just...I dunno man.” Lie Ren didn’t even bother looking up from where he was working on homework at the careworn table in the Arc basement. Jaune has had this conversation with himself more times than Ren could count at this point.

He’d learned somewhere in the middle of the sixth one that his friend didn’t need replies to any of his questions. Jaune was perfectly content with just rambling anxiously to himself.

His blonde friend was currently sprawled haphazardly on the couch across the room, lamenting his romantic life. Nora was very pointedly not doing her homework for Glynda’s class, and she was instead opting to rummage through the cabinets in search of who knew what. Ren was writing...well, Ren was attempting to write an essay for Oobleck.

This was proving difficult with Jaune meandering wistfully, and loudly, through all the reasons that Weiss Schnee was amazing. A list of reasons that he’d recited so many times in recent months that Ren had practically memorized it. Nora definitely had, as the past few times she’d perched just out of Jaune’s line of sight and mouthed the words along with him.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he complained, rolling off the couch onto the threadbare carpet with a soft thump. Jaune clambered to his feet, flopped down in the chair across from Ren, and slumped dejectedly. “I’m completely head over heels for her,” he rested his face in one hand, “and she won’t even give me a chance.”

“What about Nikos?” Nora interjected, pushing Ren’s books away so she could perch on the table. Ren glared reproachfully at the redhead and pulled them back towards him.

“Nora, we’ve been over this already,” Jaune grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Me and Pyrrha are just friends.”

“Uh huh, sure,” she said, a cheshire cat grin stretching from ear to ear. Both of them ignored Ren as he absentmindedly corrected the blonde’s grammar. “But she totally likes you.”

“She does not.”

“Does too.”

Apparently Jaune had learned nothing from having siblings, because he immediately retorted, “Does not!” He stood, knocking over his chair, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Does too! And you-” She jumped up as well, knocking books off the table to join the chair on the floor. The ginger jabbed Jaune in the chest. “-you like her, too!”

Jaune’s blush from before was nothing compared to the red spreading across his face now. “I- I do NOT like her!” he spluttered, his voice cracking and not helping his case.

“Yeah you do,” Nora grinned. “Look at how much you’re blushing, you totally like her!”

“I will have you know that I am blushing because you are embarrassing me, not because I like her,” Jaune retorted, dodging Ren as he crouched to retrieve his books from the floor. “Because I don’t. Like her. I don’t like her.”

Nora just raised an eyebrow, and her too-knowing grin grew somehow wider. Ren glanced up in time to hear Jaune say, “She just helps me with History, that’s all.” He also saw a tell-tale glint of mischief in Nora’s eyes, one that he recognized from years of friendship with the short hyperactive girl and had learned to steer clear of.

Jaune had just opened a metaphorical bees nest.

“Besides, I’ve got a crush on Weiss.” The teen took special; care to emphasize the girl’s name. “So there’s no possible way I could have a crush on the really nice, pretty, friendly-” Nora was making no sign of interrupting him, a feat that Ren knew had to be taking all of her self control “-humble, pretty, popular, pretty girl who helps me with my History homework.”

Why the hell was Nora so smug looking all of a sudden?

“You sure you said ‘pretty’ enough times in your little spiel there, fearless leader?” she snarked, bouncing proudly on her heels in triumph. Upstairs Mr. Arc shouted something about the television not working, and the muffled yells of the numerous Arc daughters echoed down the stairwell into the basement below.

Jaune was suddenly wishing with all his heart and soul that he could blink and be upstairs with them, away from this conversation.

“I didn’t say ‘pretty’ too many times, no way. Or- or at all, in fact!” He was backing away from Nora now, as if she might transform into a tiger or something and suddenly pounce. His face, while it had been bright red before, had now paled to the colour and consistency of old oatmeal. “We’re just friends. Right, Ren? Back me up here.”

“I wasn’t really paying attention, but by my count,” Ren looked up at him over his glasses, a sly look gracing his impassive features, “You did call her ‘pretty’ at least three times in the last minute.”

“Jaune, honey? It’s 9:15, time for your friends to go home!” Mrs. Arc called down the stairs, and her only son took that interjection as an excellent excuse to exit the conversation.

“Hey, Mom?” Jaune called, tripping on a stray book on his way over to the foot of the stairs. He scrambled up them after her while Ren and Nora started gathering their things behind him. “Just twenty more minutes?” he asked, following her into the kitchen.

“Honey, its a school night,” she reminded him, putting leftover casserole in the fridge. “Fifteen after, you know the rules.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing,” she said, a little sharply. “Besides, I just put Violet to bed.” Mrs. Arc raised her tone slightly, using the comment to her son as a reprimand to the four of her daughters that were still awake. Two of them quieted immediately. The twins had the good grace to at least pretend to look sheepish.

“Hey, Dad!” Jaune called into the living room, where Mr. Arc was adjusting the antenna on their television. “Do you think-”

“-I think,” he interrupted, not looking up from what he was doing, “That you should listen to your mother.” Jaune groaned in defeat, and glared when the twins snickered at him.

Downstairs, Ren and Nora were pulling on their coats. They knew from experience that Mrs. Arc wouldn’t let them stay any later on a school night, so they were getting ready to leave before Jaune even got back with confirmation.

“Do you think he actually doesn’t like her?” Nora asked, flipping her hair out from under her collar. “‘Cause like, I don’t even know Pyrrha and I can tell she likes him.”

“I don’t know,” Ren replied, zipping up his backpack and hoisting it onto his back. “Maybe you should actually try talking to her before you start coupling her up with him.”

Nora placed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “Why Ren! Is that sass I hear?”

“It might be,” he replied evasively, smiling softly.

“But honestly,” Nora continued, as if they hadn’t gotten sidetracked. “They would be great together.” She reached up to fix his collar, and neither of them noticed his eyes following her hand, or the way she paused just a moment longer than necessary. “How dumb do two people have to be not to realize they like each other?” Nora asked, glancing up at him.

Ren didn’t reply, and the moment stretched on for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

The door at the top of the stairs banged open, and Ren and Nora leapt away from each other like they’d just been caught doing something they shouldn't have. The moment broke, and Jaune called down, “Mom and Dad say you can’t stay later, sorry guys.”

“Yup, that’s what we thought they’d say,” Nora said, trying too hard to act as if nothing had happened while their friend had been gone. “So we got all ready to go ahead of time,” she continued, bouncing up the stairs. She glanced behind her when she reached the top to confirm that Ren was following, and then she made her way to the garage.

“Thank you for letting us come over, Mrs. Ar,” said Ren, passing the woman in the kitchen.

“Oh, anytime,” she replied and gave Nora a passing wave. “Oh, Lie, I’ve got something for you,” she said abruptly, ducking into the fridge to grab something. With her view blocked by the door, she missed the uncomfortable squirm Ren gave when she called him by his first name.

She stood back up and passed him a tupperware over the head of one of her daughters. “Here.”

He peeked under the lid and cocked an eyebrow. “Cookies?”

“I thought Nora might like them.” Mrs. Arc sounded very proud of herself, so he decided not to mention that Nora could not be allowed to eat this much sugar in one sitting. The chocolate chips in them were also a big no after “The Incident.”

Nora didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but if something like that happened again, Ren and Jaune wouldn’t have enough pocket money to make bail.

“Ren, come on!” Said teen jerked his head towards the door when Nora called his name. Ren said a quick thank you to Mrs. Arc and sidled awkwardly past Jaune out the side door into the garage.

“What was taking so long?” Jaune asked, leaning out of the way so his friend could pass. “Everything okay?” Ren just held up the tupperware as an answer, and the blonde rolled his eyes. “Of course. Mom’s very proud. Took her six batches to not burn them.”

“I figured,” Ren replied, shoving the plastic tub in his backpack where it clunked against his books.

“Nothing your mom makes could be as bad as Ren’s ‘health shakes’,” Nora jabbed from her spot by the door, using her fingers to make quotes.

“Algae contains-”

“-Contains numerous spectacular properties, we know.”

“All the same,” he said, swinging one leg over his bike and sitting down, “We’ll see you tomorrow at school, Jaune.”

Nora did the same, and added, “Yeah and get some sleep, you look like shit.”

“Wow thanks Nora, way to make a guy feel loved,” Jaune replied dryly, leaning on the doorframe, “Sadly I’ve got a late night tonight. Still gotta finish up that essay Cardin needed me to write.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and markedly wouldn’t meet the pair’s eyes.

Ren and Nora shared a look. “Jaune, you have to report him, “ advised Ren in a more serious tone than was really necessary, flicking on the headlight affixed to his handlebars.

Jaune nodded noncommittally and kept his eyes on his sneakers as if they held all the answers in the world. “Guys, I’m fine,” he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than convince them. “Besides, it’s not like Cardin being a jerk is exactly news.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nora argued, pulling on her gloves, “he’s been pushing you around since we met you, and probably before that, too.” She grinned, and met his eyes as he looked up, “And if he doesn’t start leaving you alone this year, we’ll break his legs.”

Jaune rolled his eyes and waved them off. “Yeah yeah, thanks, I’ll be fine,” he said, “Now you should probably leave before my mom finds out you’re still here and freaks out or something.” He was deflecting. He knew it, and he knew they knew it, too. But that was a problem for future Jaune.

Nora kicked up the kickstand on her bike and sped down the driveway, with a parting, “See you nerds later!” echoing after her. She only narrowly missed colliding with the station wagon parked there.

Ren started to follow her, but he paused on the threshold of the garage. He looked back to Jaune and said, “You need to tell someone.”

The blonde startled at the intense and slightly off-putting stare Ren was giving him. Then he slumped a little where he was standing and nodded. “I will, tomorrow,” he promised.

Ren nodded and smiled a little. “Good,” he said, hiked his backpack a little higher on his shoulders, and started off down the driveway with a soft, “See you tomorrow.”

As he drove off, the flood lights over the garage and the porch lights flicked off twice before finally turning back on. Jaune leaned out of the garage and squinted at them for a moment. “Stupid faulty wiring,” he muttered, as he flipped the switch to turn them off and went back inside.

Ren pedaled down the road, occasionally passing other jacketed teens and kids walking or biking to and fro. Nora had waited for him for a little while, but soon enough she had peeled away from him to swerve down another road. Fallen leaves had kicked up and swirled in her path, but they settled back down to the ground soon enough.

Before long, Ren was alone, his light shining through the darkness. The beam it cast carved a path down the deserted streets as he pedaled back to his house. He lived alone, so it wasn’t like he would get in trouble if he was late, but the temperature was dropping rapidly and that alone was enough to spur him onwards.

He turned the corner onto his road, passing by the fence that separated the town from the lab. With the cold rising, he might’ve taken whatever punishment the Department of Energy could dish out for his trespassing if it meant he got inside sooner. As it was, he shrugged his backpack a little higher on his shoulders and wished he had a free hand to push his glasses back up on his nose. The fog that was rising was doing his already poor vision no favors.

Then his light turned off.

He hadn’t turned it off, but off it was. Ren glanced down at it to make sure that the bulb hadn’t come loose or something like that. No, it was still there. Probably just burnt out.

Wait...it was back on. Must’ve just come loose from a bump in the road, and then it settled back to its correct place. He’d take a look at it when he got home. He returned his gaze to the road and-

-What the hell?!

Before Ren knew what he was doing, he had swerved off the road into the woods. His bike tipped over and he landed sprawled on the ground with a groan. Some idiot had just been standing in the middle of the road!

Some idiot that was wearing no clothes, was pitch black...with limbs too long and fingers that came to sharp points. And its face...Ren could swear...he could swear that it didn’t have a face. Like something out of a freaking horror film.

He could hear it. A growling chittering something from where he’d seen the thing in the road. He slowly raised his gaze to where he’d seen it just before he’d swerved. The thing was still there, in all its otherworldly glory. The fog and the darkness were hiding any distinct features, but he saw enough to freak him right the hell out.

As his eyes fell on its indistinct form, he felt himself freeze. Instincts battled within him. One side was telling him to run as far and as fast as he could. The other more logical side was telling him that this thing had appeared out of nowhere and he hadn’t heard or seen it coming. There would be no outrunning this.

All debate went out the window when its growling raised in volume and it turned to face exactly where he’d fallen.

Screw logic, he was running.

He scrambled to his feet and stumbled backwards a few feet before he turned and high-tailed it out of there. Leaves crunched under his feet, his backpack slapped in a dull rhythm against his back, and the fog rose like a wall in front of him. Ren was already sprinting along the trail that led past the Xiao Long cabin when he realized that he’d left his bike behind.

With his inhales catching in his throat, and his breath coming out in short panicked gasps, he came to a conclusion: The monster could have his bike, he wasn’t going back.

When he got to his house, he blessed every god he could think of that he hadn’t left his keys behind. Ren slammed them into the keyhole, nearly snapping them off in his haste, and yanked the door open. It ran into the wall hard, but he had no time to check if the wall was damaged.

The lights were still on in the living room and the kitchen, so at least he had that going for him. As soon as he got through the door, Ren turned and scrambled to hook the chain lock into its track. He doubted the thin brass chain would do much to stop that thing which huge it was, but he could dream couldn’t he?

Nobody was home, as he knew would be the case, but he suddenly found himself wishing that he didn’t live so alone.

Ren skidded, and nearly fell, on the cracking tiles in his kitchen as he rushed to lock the back door. The window in the door was nearly entirely fogged over, but he pressed his nose to it anyway in a desperate attempt to see if the thing was out there.

Please don’t be there, please don’t be there, please don’t-

No...oh God please no-

It emerged from the shadows the trees cast on the leaf strewn ground. It was coming for him, whether it was was walking, or gliding, or whatever he couldn’t tell with the fog. He had a clear enough look at at it now to determine that he was well and truly fucked.

His eyes widened under his thick framed glasses and he launched himself away from the window with a choked gasp. The time it took for him to get from the window to the phone was too long, but he had to call someone. Who knew what that thing was going to do to him?

Ren snatched the yellow plastic phone from its holder on the wall, and cursed quietly at the rotary dial. He couldn’t call Nora, she didn’t have a phone. He’d just have to pray that anyone at Jaune’s house was still awake.

It connected. Thank Christ it connected! “Hello? Hello?!” The cracks running through his voice underlined the fear he felt, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins had sent his voice shaking. If he was shaking hard enough to fall apart, Ren was sure that he’d be crying.

Nothing. No one answered. There was only static. Static and...what the everloving hell was that?! His receiver was picking up static, and some kind of animal screeching or growling. Or more accurately some ungodly combination of the two.

He took an involuntary step away from phone housing, the receiver still clutched in a white-knuckled grasp. Hairs rose on the back of his neck, and Ren inched around the corner so he could see the front door.

For one god-given moment, there wasn’t anything to be seen through the rippled glass. Then as he stood, stock- still, phone still clutched to his ear, he saw it. An indistinct shape. A shadow passed over the window, blocking out the light of the solitary street light outside and standing taller than any human he knew.

‘The chain lock,’ he thought desperately, eyes locked on the tiny metal chain that might be his last chance.

It-

It was moving?!

The bit, or whatever it was called, was moving in its track on its own accord. Unlocking the door. As his eyes followed its impossible journey, he had the insane thought that this was hardly fair. That thing was breaking the rules.

What rules those were, he didn’t have the faintest idea, but it was definitely breaking them.

When the bit finally fell out of its track and officially unlocked the door, much to Ren’s never ending disbelief, he dropped the phone and scrambled away from the front door. The phone dropped, but its cord kept it from hitting the floor, and the dial tone it was emitting only served to remind Ren that nobody was coming to help him.

Without a conscious decision of where to go, he found himself in his kitchen. Maybe it was because this was the only other room with light. Maybe it was because this was the furthest room from the front door and the thing he could hear slowly pacing towards him.

Or maybe it was because this was the closest room he could get to that he could get a weapon. Ren dove across the room for the drawer, and rummaged in it for something, anything.

His hand closed on a knife, smaller than he would’ve liked, but he didn’t have time to find a better one. Ren stood, shaking so badly it was a miracle he didn’t drop the damn knife, and faced the door. It was the only entrance to the room. The thing would have to come in that way.

The kitchen light flickered. It flashed on and off, making it difficult to see. Not that it would have mattered if he could see, because he could hear it now. That growling, chittering, mess of a noise it made.

And it was coming from behind him.

He felt his heart drop right out of his chest and settle somewhere down near his feet. Slowly Ren turned, pink-tinged pupils blown wide in fear. The hand holding the knife dropped limply to one side when he saw it.

‘It’s too bright,’ he thought distantly as he gazed at the impossible and unholy creature looming over him. The kitchen light hanging over the table wasn’t flickering anymore, now it was glowing. Glowing brighter than it ever had before, flooding the room with light. It was blinding, and the creature was screeching, or maybe he was screaming.

And then, it was gone. The light went back to its normal level of luminosity, and the sound stopped. The monster was gone, but then again, so was Lie Ren.

The kitchen was empty.

[machidielontheway]

Shiro: Why are you helping me?

Ulaz: As a fighter and a leader, you give hope.

Shiro: ...

Ulaz: ...

Shiro: You need a Pilot.

Ulaz: We need a Pilot.

[calamitiess]

@bxckle-up liked for a starter

intrepid  exhaustion  is  what  weighs  most  heavily  on  her  mind,  that  and  perhaps  the  fairest  bit  of  humiliation.  elizabeth  caledonia  ashe  did  not,  under  any  circumstances  particularly  like  to ‘lose,’  in  any  way,  especially  when  it  resulted  in  her  strapped  to  a  railway  cart,  thoroughly  embarrassed,  with  a  particularly  smug  cowboy  making  off  with  her  coveted  motorcycle  (and  the  memories  it  held).  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  incurring  the  wrath  of  ashe,  fearless  leader  of  the  even  more  feared  deadlock  gang,  but  jesse  mccree  was  a  damned  expert  at  pissing  her  off,  leaving  her  angry  and  hurt  for  years,  then  showing  up  and  throwing  a  wrench  into  all  her  plans  and  recovery. 

this  whiskey  she  nurses  is  not  top  shelf,  but  then  again  -  the  bar  she’s  hiding  in  isn’t  either.  sometimes,  she  has  to  escape -  to  get  away  from  the  gang,  BOB,  and  any  of  the  burdens that  weigh  heavy  on  her  shoulders.  so  here  she  was,  all  the  way  out  in  new  mexico,  seated  in  some  hole  in  the  wall  bar  with  her  boots  on  a  table  and  that  second  glass  of  whiskey  swirling  beneath  painted  fingertips.  the  men  here  hadn’t  given  her  trouble  -  to  be  frank,  they’d  given  her  plenty  of  space  with  the  insignia  upon  her  back  and  the  red-lipped  viper’s  smile  she  cast  their  way.  she  was  peacefully let  be,  allowed  to  wallow  in  her  misery  and  aggravation  all  by  her  lonesome,  just  the  way  she  liked  it. 

                               but  it  seemed  the  universe  was  not  yet  done  humiliating  her. she  knows  that  stupid  hat  the  second  it  breeches  the  doorway,  knows the  familiar  smell  that  follows  him  and  the  clink  of  well  worn  boots,  dusty  with  travel  (probably  from  her  motorcycle).  as  if  showing  up  to  ruin  their  heist  hadn’t  been  enough,  jesse  mccree  was  surely  dead  set  on  ruining  the  rest  of  her  life  by  showing  up  here  while  she  was  simply  attempting  to  get  drunk without  someone  bothering  her  about  it.  frankly,  there  was  something  a  little  cosmic  about  the  whole  thing.  the  american  southwest  was  a  big  place,  and  he’d  been  absent  from  her  life  for  years,  but  chooses  to  show  up  twice  within  the  same  year?  or  maybe,  she  was  already  drunk.  carmine  eyes  squint at  him,  trying  to  decide  if  that  was  the  case--  no,  unfortunately  it  was  him,  in  the  flesh. 

instead  of  flying  off  the  handle  and  pulling  out  her  rifle,  ashe  behaves  herself,  if  only  because  she  is  too  inebriated  to  shoot  him  in  his  pretty  face,  and  the  barkeep  had  been  nice  enough  to  her  for  her  to  not  want  to  splatter  their  tiles  with  gore.  so  she  just  blinks  at  that  cowboy,  long  lashes  fluttering  over  pale  cheeks,  and  sips  her  whiskey  neat  and  prim,  not  even  a  trace  of  red  left  on  the  glass.  even  know,  she’s  a  lady. 

              “ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤  𝐭𝐚  𝐫𝐮𝐛  𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭  𝐢𝐧  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝  𝐨𝐫  𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞  𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞  𝐦𝐞  𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡                                    𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭  𝐲𝐨𝐮  𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝  𝐭𝐨  𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲  𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞  𝐛𝐚𝐫  𝐢’𝐦                                      𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐚𝐭,  𝐨𝐧  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞  𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭  𝐢’𝐦  𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐚𝐭  𝐢𝐭? ”

[w0rld0fmy0wn]

Clexa + 16.

16. things you said with no space between us

(Whew boy, this one ran away with me too. I really can’t do short drabbles.)

Outside the rain beats against the top of the tent, creating a relentless patter that fills Clarke’s ears. Even after more than a year on the ground, she still sometimes gets lost in it, in that wild tempo of pit pit pit pat-pat pit pit pich-ch-ch-ch of heavy raindrops connecting with a hard surface. Unrelenting but soothing, so much more so than the mechanical whirs of the Ark she grew up with. Even with damp socks and the grit of mud between her teeth from a long march, she would choose the rain over space every second of every day. 

There’s grunting along with the rain, and shouting. The kinds of noises that go hand-in-hand with any large group of people trying to set up a make-shift camp, even a group as efficient as the Commander’s army. The rain - and the tent - nearly drown all the other noises out, enough that Clarke could forget there was anyone else around. 

Except for one person, of course. 

She and Lexa are alone in the tent. They weren’t, up until a mere few minutes ago. The war table was one of the first things set up when the army stopped, right in the middle of the tent, and Lexa and her generals had gathered around it, spinning out their strategy for the battle to come. Azgeda - Nia - began acting up again a month ago, and when a traveling ambassador for the Louwoda was reported as missing and then kidnapped and murdered by the Ice Nation warriors, the Commander had finally had enough. Nia had been granted enough lenience - too much, according to every general around the Commander’s table - and Lexa finally declared war on the nation who simply refused to bend to her word and its queen who refused to bow before her rule. 

Clarke knows this is a fight that is long overdue but was always going to happen, but knowing that doesn’t quiet the flutter in her chest or dismiss that tiny chill of fear she can feel creeping down her spine. She’s pretending to stare down at the map still rolled out across the table, acting as though she’s familiarizing herself with this strange piece of land she’s found herself in, but in reality she’s watching the Commander through her eyelashes. 

She isn’t in her war gear. Not yet. Her pauldron and sash are hanging neatly on hooks secured to one of the posts holding the tent up. There’s a knife strapped to her side, just as there’s one strapped to Clarke’s, but the Commander’s sword is sheathed, leaning against the big chair one of her warriors set up on the other side of the table. It isn’t the same throne the brunette was sitting in the first time the two young leaders laid eyes on each other, but it’s nearly as formidable. The war paint hasn’t been spread around her eyes yet, but in the flickering candlelight Clarke thinks she doesn’t need it; Lexa’s eyes themselves are dark, dangerous even, and another shiver shoots down Clarke’s spine. 

There are many sides to the woman in front of her, and right now she’s pretending not to stare at the calculating warrior intent on destroying her enemies. And Clarke knows. 

She will. Within days, the Ice Nation will fall. Nia will fall. 

It won’t be easy; the Ice Nation is a fearless, ruthless opponent, and each and every warrior on that battlefield will understand that there will be no mercy. No surrender, no laying down their swords and spears and begging for their lives. The Commander will not grant them such liberties after their queen’s defiance. So they will fight, each one of them, until the blood seeps from their bodies and stains the mud they fall in. And they will fall, no matter how hard they fight - that much Clarke knows, with every fiber of her being.

Some of the Commander’s generals insist on more than just the warriors’ deaths, insist on the annihilation of the entire Azgeda population after all Nia has done. Clarke has tried - delicately - to steer everyone away from that. Tried to remind them all that there are people under Nia’s rule who are in fact innocent, who have no part in their queen’s defiance against the Commander and want nothing more than to live peacefully under Lexa’s coalition. She remembers all too well the heart-stopping fear of standing and facing the Commander’s army with the knowledge they have no hope of winning, that good, innocent people are about to die if she doesn’t do something to stop it. The people are different this time, not the ones she should feel any responsibility for, but still she has spent the past couple of weeks fighting for them. Not the warriors or their queen, but the innocents, the common people, children and mothers and fathers who have never even touched a weapon. She has insisted that the generals think of them, remember them while they’re getting their Commander’s justice. They’ve listened, she thinks, and though they aren’t happy about it, so far it seems like everyone will be content with just the fall of the Ice Queen and her army. 

Or so Clarke hopes, at least. 

“You must have that memorized by now.”

Lexa’s voice - quiet beneath the patter of the rain - breaks through the blonde’s thoughts and Clarke nearly jumps. She’s still watching the Commander through her eyelashes and sees the other woman shift, her head tilting up as she flashes Clarke a small smile. It’s just a twitch of her lips really, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make it clear to Clarke that she’s been caught, that the Commander is fully aware at what she’s actually looking at. 

Her cheeks heat up, but she’s pretty sure they at least don’t flush, or that if they do it isn’t visible in the dim lighting. 

“Well there’s a lot to memorize,” she replies simply, one shoulder shrugging, and otherwise doesn’t move. 

Because it’s true. There is a lot to memorize. Like the way Lexa’s hands are resting against the table, holding her own map out in front of her so that the corners don’t curl in. How even though she’s leaning a little over the table, somehow her posture is still perfect, spine almost perfectly straight. As always her hair is pulled back in little braids, but a bit has managed to find its way over her shoulder, as though it’s trying to hide Lexa’s jawline from Clarke’s sight. Even with an army just outside and a battle looming on the horizon, her shoulders are relaxed in that way the blonde only sees when they are alone. Every detail stores itself away in her mind and in her chest, and Clarke has to bite the inside of her cheek as she silently files it all away. 

Because even though she knows in a way she can’t explain that they are going to win, there’s always the possibility that they won’t. Or that they will win, but will also lose the Commander along the way. After all, unlike Clarke Lexa is going to be right at the front line, charging into battle with the rest of the warriors. The Commander does not wait out a battle or let others fight it for her; the Commander leads the charge, her sword in hand and a war cry on her lips. So it is entirely possible that this will be the last time Clarke will ever see this hurricane of a woman, and just that thought makes it difficult for her to catch her breath. 

Maybe Lexa notices - Clarke’s pretty sure after a year of knowing her that she somehow manages to notice everything - because she looks up more fully from her own map, staring at the blonde straight on. Her expression softens, the darkness that had been pooling in her eyes only moments ago fazing away until Clarke’s staring into a green deeper than the deepest part of the forest. There’s an openness now in her expression, the same one Clarke has been afraid of for months now, and it tugs at something in the blonde’s chest. 

“We have a plan, Clarke, a good one. In two days we will meet Nia’s army on the battlefield and we will be ready.” One corner of her mouth tugs up just a hair, and she nods toward the map in front of the younger leader. “You have a gift for strategy, as you must know by now.”

She knows. It is, after all, why she is here. She may not be a warrior, will never be a great fighter like Lexa or Octavia or Lincoln, but she quickly learned how to plan and strategize after the delinquents’ crash landing on the ground. Not that she could take all of the credit for their plan to take down the Ice Queen, but she likes to think that even the most stubborn of Lexa’s generals now has at least a grudging respect for the Skaikru ambassador. 

She doesn’t say as much though. 

“I know I’m just…” She stares back down at the map in front of her and rubs at her forehead. She can feel a tension headache coming on, and knows it probably won’t go away until the fight is over and their war is won. “Just trying to make sure we’ve planned for everything.”

There’s a smaller table at the side of the tent, and Lexa moves over to it now, shaking her head. There she grabs the pitcher that is set out on it, as well as two of the cups. 

“You can never prepare for everything in battle, Clarke,” she informs her, setting one cup down on the war table and then pouring some watered down wine into the second. She hands it to Clarke who accepts it with a nod of thanks. “All you can do is prepare for what you know, what you suspect, and steal yourself for the inevitable surprises.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Clarke mutters, glancing back down at the map before taking a sip of the wine. From the corner of her vision she sees Lexa’s lips twitch even as she pours her own cup. 

“No, you do not. I know, and neither do I, but they are part of life and a part of battle.”

It’s said so matter-of-factly, so simply, that it makes Clarke pause and her eyes flicker up again. She finds Lexa staring down at her map now, the coming battle likely playing out in her mind, even as she takes a slow sip from her own cup. Clarke knows that only part of her is here now, in this room and part of this conversation. Another part of her is split, thinking of the war to come and the surprises they’ve already faced. 

It’s been almost a year since they were in a tent so much like this one. Almost a year since that one kiss that still sends a rush of confusion and heat through Clarke’s chest every time she thinks about it. A year since the mountain, and Lexa walking away. It’s been a painful journey every day since to get them to this place, this spot where Clarke can actually stand to be in the same room with the brunette again, alone or otherwise. Where instead of betrayal and anguish, of fury and hatred, instead she feels understanding, acceptance, even peace. And something more, something she hasn’t wanted to think about, hasn’t let herself think about except for those quiet moments in the middle of the night, surrounded by darkness with Lexa’s image dancing behind Clarke’s eyelids. 

Now there is light that washes out the darkness, even though it is dim. Lexa’s image is not hidden behind her eyelids but painted out in the vivid detail of reality in front of her, and though a part of her wants to push it back again, those thoughts squirm to the forefront of Clarke’s mind and she lets them. Her heart - which was already beating more rapidly than normal - quickens further, and Clarke feels a tingling in her fingertips. Her mouth feels dry even after another gulp of the wine, and then she’s tipping her head back and emptying the rest of the cup, hoping for just a hint of relief. She looks back at Lexa and gets none; she catches Lexa looking at her again, those green eyes soft in a way Clarke’s sure she isn’t aware of, and in that moment she makes a decision. 

Clarke closes her eyes for a split second, needing to steal herself, and then places the cup on the table. Before it’s even settled she’s moving, the voice in her head silently encouraging her even as her heart feels like it’s about to explode from her chest. 

You want this. You want her. You’ve wanted her almost as long as you’ve known her. Tell her, while you still have the chance.

“I don’t,” she begins, stumbling a little as she tries to figure out what to say. “I don’t like them. Surprises, I mean. And yeah, I know you don’t either. But… Sometimes. Sometimes surprises are good. Sometimes something you didn’t expect can be… what you need. Want. What makes you…”

She trails off, because honestly she doesn’t know how to say all of the hundreds of things she’s feeling, that she’s been feeling ever since she met the woman in front of her. It’s as though the storm outside their tent is only half as wild as the storm whirling in her chest, and Clarke just doesn’t know how to take a hold of it and root through it to find the words that can describe this maddening ache in her chest. 

A flash of panic sparks in Lexa’s eyes, and honestly Clarke finds it a little comforting. At least she isn’t the only one searching here. At least she isn’t the only one feeling like she’s standing in a boat getting rocked by this storm. Because alongside that panic she can see in Lexa’s eyes is a little catch of breath. She hears it, sees it in the way Lexa’s lips part, and when her eyes trail back up to the other woman’s she realizes that the brunette is staring at her lips too. They’re close now, nearly chest-to-chest, and Clarke hadn’t realized she’d moved this close to Lexa but she’s glad of it. Because now, in this suspended moment, she can scan Lexa’s face, read everything that flashes across that usually closed off expression. Hope. Fear. Longing. Pain. 

“Clarke…”

It comes out as a whisper. A warning. A plea. 

Don’t do this. 

Please do this. 

I’ve hurt you. 

You’ve hurt me. You can hurt me. 

Please. Please don’t hurt me. Don’t let me hurt you.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers back. There’s more she wants to say. More she can feel bubbling up, racing to the tip of her tongue. It’s there, there in the way she reaches out, brushes a finger against the brunette’s cheek. There’s a response in the way Lexa nearly flinches but sinks into the touch at the same time. A whole litany of words dances between them but aren’t said, aren’t even muttered, because neither of them know how to make their mouths work around them. Clarke wants to say it all, wants to express it all so completely and fully that there can’t be any questions left between them, but instead only a single word comes out. 

“Now.”

Again Lexa tries to catch her breath, but this time Clarke doesn’t let her. The words won’t form but her body is more than willing to fill in the spaces, and without hesitation the blonde leans forward. Her fingers gently cup Lexa’s cheek and then her lips slide against the brunette’s, and now it’s her that can’t breathe. 

Because Lexa doesn’t hesitate either. The moment their lips touch her hand comes up, lightly grasping the back of Clarke’s head and pulling her closer, closer, as close as she possibly can and Clarke allows herself to be moved. There’s a dull thud that barely registers in the blonde’s mind, and if she were paying attention to anything but the feeling of Lexa’s body pressed against hers she’d realize the brunette dropped her cup, just let it fall to the ground before pulling her close. 

It’s a kiss that begins with one meaning, the simple indication that they are each ready, each willing to bare their souls to the other and to trust the other, and then it turns into a kiss of something else. Of a promise. Of apologies and forgiveness. Of “You’re you and I’m me, and I never thought we’d actually make it to this.” Of I’m sorry, and thank you, and I love you, have loved you, will love you, words that they may not know how to articulate yet but each can so easily and completely feel that it doesn’t even begin to matter. 

Outside warriors shout and the rain falls. In two days the Commander will lead her army against her greatest enemy and fight until Nia is defeated, and then Commander and Ambassador will return to Polis, to the lives and daily struggles that won’t change solely because of this stolen moment alone in the Commander’s tent. 

But right now. 

Right now the moment is here, and it is enough. Enough for them to let go of their fears. To accept that this is who they are. They are Ambassador and Commander, but they are also Clarke and Lexa. 

And even though the word has yet to be spoken, they love each other. 

Now. And forever.