#i changed them to a dark blue while i used the kit though

[rizardofether]

On the left: How I made my Shodd based on screenshots and quesstimating the height based on one of my min-height characters I posed next to him for.

On the right: Used a makeover kit to adjust small details some more. I think I went slightly above his height this time but it's pretty close this time.

[plushieclan]

Prologue

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Wolf didn’t trust the new visitor.

She was an old cat with matted white fur and piercing bronze eyes. Her gaze was ever-flitting, changing from spot to spot. It seemed as though she would jump up and attack anyone who got close.

The other cats walked around her as if she was nothing new. Apparently, she was a regular visitor for this sect of the Wanderers.

He wasn’t a member of this particular group; as a Journeyer, it was his job to visit every section of the Wanderers and find his place.

“Hello, Wolf.”

Wolf turned, before gasping. “Trailblazer Maya!”

The tortoiseshell molly smiled, her pink eyes shimmering. He made sure to bow out of respect.

She held up a paw. “No need, Wolf. While you are still a Journeyer, you are a member of this sect.”

He paused, before asking. “May I speak freely for a moment?”

“Of course.” she smiled. “What is it?”

He took a look at the old visitor again.

“I don’t trust her. Something feels off about her.”

Maya sighed. “I understand your wariness, but Clearstripe has been a welcome guest for many moons now. She has never done anything to warrant suspicion.”

Wolf could feel the way she was looking at him. It was just like how cats spoke about his mother.

“I’m not being paranoid for the sake of it.” he meowed. “I’m not my mother.”

Her eyes widened in surprised. “I did not intend on implying that, Wolf. Forgive me.”

He sighed. “No. I know what you’re thinking. Everyone else does as well.”

“Foxtail Barley is a respectable member of our community.” she said. “Don’t let the rumors of others dissuade you.”

He wanted to laugh, but he knew that was disrespectful. Rumors? They were all true!

“I understand, Trailblazer Maya.” he simply replied.

“It’s a shame.” she sighed. “I wish you could stay here permanently. Think about asking your mother if you could join us, ok?”

With that, she turned and left.

He looked over at Clearstripe. He was going to have to investigate her on his own, it seemed. Then, he considered Maya’s words for a moment.

Ma’ wouldn’t take kindly to me leaving, he thought to himself. His place was always going to be by her side… he had no other options.

His thoughts lingered on his mother.

—

Two kits sat together beneath the stars. One, a tom with dark fur that blended in. The other, a young molly with a pelt that reflected the stars. For a while, neither spoke a word.

“I can’t do it.” the molly suddenly said.

The tom turned to her with alarm in his blue eyes

“I can’t stay here anymore.” she said, “Ma’… I can’t live like her. I can’t be alone anymore.”

He looked surprised. “But you have me.”

“Just you.” she repeated. “But I can’t live with just my littermate for the rest of my life. I want to make friends, Wolf. I want to live my own life.”

“Shiny, please don’t leave.” he pleaded. “Is this about Pa’? Ma’ already told us he was a good for nothing—!”

“Stop it! Ma’ thinks that about everyone!” Shiny yelled.

He paused.

“I want to make my own ideas about cats. Not just what Ma’ wants me to think.”

“But you’ll have to leave.” he cried.

She looked at her brother and wanted to tell him everything would be fine. But she couldn’t.

“Come with me.” she finally asked.

“I can’t.”

“I know.”

She turned and left, her small paws thudding against the ground. She followed that path burned into her brain from all those moons again. The path her father took to visit them.

The path to the Clans.

—

The Gathering felt especially hostile this moon, without Darkstar with them. Starleaf was acting leader in his place, and she looked like a mess. She had ordered Mudfoot, Rosepaw, and Jaggedpaw to stay back at camp— if they came with, it would have caused a disaster. Leopardcloud and Lionmane refused to leave Mudfoot’s side, and Nightflower looked too shaken over everything to attend. Everyone else was far too worried about Swampclan or injured— leaving Shimmersky, Gingerclaw, Pebblefur, and Dawntreader the only warriors attending.

“This feels like a bad idea, coming with only six cats.” Dawntreader looked nervous as she paced.

“Well, you could go back and make it five, if you aren’t warrior enough!” Pebblefur snapped.

Gingerclaw stepped between his sister and Dawntreader. “Let’s not fight. We’re going to have enough problems with antagonism when we enter Four Corners.”

Pebblefur hissed, but backed down. She stalked into the old barn ahead of the others, but just behind Starleaf. Pebblefur wasn’t foolish enough to enter first.

Shimmersky was merely lost in her thoughts. She was lucky not to have been majorly injured in the battle with Swampclan she and Tigerpelt had gotten into— Tigerpelt was not so lucky.

Starleaf jumped up the rotten wooden stairs to the loft, where she took Darkstar’s place with the leaders. The other leaders reacted surprised, and begun to talk amongst themselves.

Shimmersky tuned out all of the discussion to focus on what the leaders were talking about.

“Where’s Darkstar?” Finchstar’s eyes narrowed.

“Resting. He’s been ill, so I finally convinced him to stay back.” Starleaf replied calmly.

Badgerstar grumbled “Hopefully he will be back to join us next moon.”

“He certainly didn’t look good these past few moons.”

The other leaders turned to look at Redstar.

Redstar chuckled. “To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran away to some Twolegs for help.”

Starleaf’s face hid her shock. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a leader. He wouldn’t leave for the Twolegs.”

“When we were kits, I remember him being brought to camp with his kittypet mother.” Redstar said, a pensive look on his face. “Perhaps he’s gone to see her old home?”

“This conversation is over.” Starleaf snapped. “Let’s start the Gathering.”

Shimmersky narrowed her eyes. Redstar knew too much. How could that even be possible? For now, she held her judgement. She needed to watch his mannerisms as the Gathering continued.

Grangeclan and Treeclan went, but nothing particularly caught Shimmersky’s eye. Redstar was fairly unassuming. Even when he gave his own clan’s announcements— so-and-so was expecting kits, so-and-so chased off a fox, nothing truly revealing. Though, she suspected that the “fox” they encountered was rather a very orange clanmate of hers.

Then, it was Starleaf’s turn.

“We have had a good moon. With the last of our apprentices becoming warriors last moon and new kits in the clan, things have been well.”

She turned to leave, but Redstar placed out a paw to stop her.

“Anything else to announce?” he said, eyes staring directly into Starleaf’s

“I— no, that’s it.” she said, regaining her composure.

“No new cats? Not even a few new apprentices?” he continued.

She looked surprised, the emotions flooding her face for the first time that night.

“What in the world are you talking about, Redstar?” Badgerstar looked incredibly annoyed.

Finchstar also seemed confused. This was bad.

Shimmersky knew what his play was. He was trying to force Starleaf to admit that Rosepaw and Jaggedpaw ran away to join the clan. She wasn’t about to let him get away with that.

She grabbed a stone from the ground discreetly. Then, she made a big show of tumbling to the ground. She used that as a screen— distracting from her flinging the stone into the leader’s loft.

Her aim rang true. The stone barreled into Redstar’s flank, causing him to yelp in pain and bring his paw down to his side. Starleaf slipped away with that opening.

“We have nothing more to announce.” she stated.

With that, the Gathering began.

Shimmersky sighed. “That was close…”

“It was that one!”

Suddenly, sharp teeth dug into her scruff. She squawked as she was dragged away from the others.

The cat threw her down in front of the other deputies.

Bergamotfur got in her face. “What was that?! A Gathering is a place of no fighting! You’re disrespecting everything when you throw a stone at a leader!”

Dovelight and Bonestripe also had angry looks on their faces. It looked like she wasn’t going to get off easy. She needed to come up with a good excuse.

“Sorry… I slipped on some loose stones! I didn’t mean to hit the leader, and I would never in my life throw a rock at one! I’m just so clumsy!” she stuck out her tongue, praying they bought it.

“I doubt that.” Bergamotfur said.

“I can corroborate it.” a voice sounded from behind her. Gingerclaw!

“Can you?” Bergamotfur narrowed his eyes.

Gingerclaw pulled something out of his long mane of fur. It was a stone. “Yep. I got hit with one of the rocks when she fell. She really is just that clumsy.”

Bonestripe sighed. “If that is the case, then this isn’t our problem anymore, Bergamotfur. Her deputy will take care of it.”

Bergamotfur’s eyes showed that he wanted to retort, but instead, he turned away.

“Out of my sight.” he said.

Gingerclaw and Shimmersky walked away from the deputies. Once they were out of eyesight, she pressed herself into his side.

“You’re the best mate ever, Ginger.” she purred. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t leave you to get in trouble, Shimmer.” he rested his head on hers. “But why did you do that?”

She stopped, then looked at him with a serious expression. “Redstar was going to make Starleaf admit to stealing the flowers.”

The flowers. It was the keyword they were using for Rosepaw and Jaggedpaw for now. It was imperative that no one could know, and that meant it was obscured even in private conversations. Eavesdroppers were always a danger.

Gingerclaw looked surprised. “There’s no way he could know for sure. I’m sure he was just testing to figure out if it was us.”

She shook her head. “It can’t be that. He knew about Darkstar’s condition too. It’s not a coincidence.”

Someone must be feeding him information, she realized.

“Ginger… anyone in the clan could be feeding him information.” she emphasized. “But…”

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“I think it’s Jaggedpaw.”

—

“So… there’s a spy among us?” Mudfoot said, her voice low.

Shimmersky nodded. “Yes. It could be anyone.”

Tigerpelt pulled himself up. “But then, why are you telling us?”

Shimmersky sighed. “I won’t be able to figure this out alone. I think you two are the least likely to be the spy. I figured the benefit of telling you would outweigh the negatives. Will you help me?”

“Of course!” Tigerpelt grinned. “We’ll definitely help you catch them.”

“After what Redstar did to me…” Mudfoot brought her paw up to touch the covered side of her face where her eye used to be. “I’d do anything to get him back. Let’s do this.”

Shimmersky nodded. “Alright… I have a plan.”

Nightstar’s clan

Moon 14

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

In the Wings

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Next Part of Claude in Husbandry. Thanks for @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Ash'val and Cedric.

Summary: Claude gets settled into the Imperial Fist and Salamander Base.

Warnings: Let me know if I need to add more

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Claude had told them that Cedric had left confinment to find and bring him back, and that he'd accept punishment on Cedric's behalf. Because it was due to him that Cedric had left the confined to base punishment to one of the Officers in Charge of Cedric's punishment. Captain Ash'val had a neutral expression on his face and had said, "Thank you for telling me Claude. You and Cedric will share some tasks for a month, after you finish healing."

"Yes sir," Claude said with a nod. He left after Ash'val had dismissed him.

Salamanders really are soft, at least compared to how the Mechanicum would have reacted to what Cedric had done. Or how he'd heard that the Black Templars would have responded to Cedric pulling what he did, especially for a cousin instead of a brother. He isn't going to complain. He is continuing to move when he spots something that his ice trace down his spine. He spots teal and silver and the twin heads of the Hydra serpent. He shifts his path to go in a different direction back to Cedric. While also keeping watch on the Hydra. Who- from the ways the others are interacting with him didn't realize his true colors.

Claude had quietly told Cedric what he'd spotted, he knows from what he told about the Alliance between the larger War bands, and the Companies, but it still filled him with dread to spot Hydra interacting with others. They were not to be trusted. Tricksters, face-stealing, duplicitious and two faced are the Traitor Hydra. Who's claws are eyes are every where and apparently everywhen. Cedric had taken his warning with due seriousness and has asked him if he knew the name that the Hydra used that wasn't "Alpharius".

"Luitenant something," Claude said with a self deprecating shrug, "I didn't want him to know that I realized what he was."

"Makes sense," Cedric says as he continues to count inventory of the medbay. Claude helping by putting back the items in the places that his brother- no, cousin indicated they should be put.

He was on light duty, whatever that meant, even though he's fully healed, only needing some minor surgery and his own rapid healing rate helping to patch him up. The rations were of better quality and taste than he remembers them being. Claude continues to help Cedric when he can, not being an Apothecary there isn't much he can do other than hold this or that, and keeping out of the way. His eyes flick from one side of the room to another, and he spots yet more teal. This one acting, and having the equipment of an Apothecary.

"Zariel" is the name the Hydra was being called by and fondly so by some of the visiting Ultramarines. Claude relaxes his vision and the teals changes to Ultramarine blue and gold heraldry for a moment, beforing going back to Teal. he's tried to teach Cedric and the other Primaris Marines that don't have his True Sight ability, not that it seems to work. And none of them know why.

"Claude," Cedric says suddenly, having glanced at his face for a moment before deliberately looking away, "eyes."

Claude closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath as he keeps a clear image of what he's supposed to look like, dark eyed, light skinned and dark haired. He opens his eyes again and lightly taps Cedric with one of his feet carefully who looks at him.

"Better," Cedric hums as they continue to work on medbay inventory. "See something."

"More Teal," Claude says almost silently, making sure not to move his lips as much as possible as he turns his face away from where the Hydra Apothecary pretending to be an Ultramarine is at. "Apothecary Zariel."

"Ah," Cedric replies, trying not to scowl in the direction of Apothecary Zariel of the 'ultramarines'. "We are finished with doing inventory in this med bay, lets go to the next one on the other side of the base Claude."

"Yes Cedric." Claude said with a nod following after his broher.

While most bases built by Imperial Fists followed the same standardized format, it was still a new base to Claude and he didn't want to get lost. He'd missed Cedric a lot once they'd been seperated into their different Chapters and had grieved when he'd heard that the other had gone missing. Slowly, one by one plenty of his brother Primaris Marines had fallen, in battle or have gone missing in the void. Perhaps they might be found one day on Ancient Terra? That would be nice, if that was the case, but the Galaxy was rarely so kind to a creature such as them. They continue to do their duty tasks, pausing to take breaks occasionally, lunch break, which was an indulgent hour long affair, had been nice.

"Do you know if they do Vespers?" Claude asks Cedric.

While the First Born Raven Guard weren't as religious as Black Templars, it was seen as good fortune and to be considered pious to hold Vespers at least once a week. Cedric shifts a little and says, "The First Born don't do Vespers in this base."

"Oh," Claude says struggling a little with that revelation, "Not at all?"

"No, but there are some places that… once my punishment is over," Cedric explains, "We can go to, in order to attend Vespers."

Claude nods at that, while he was allowed to leave the base for missions and for his leisure time, he tended to stay in the base to stay with Cedric more often than not. He… was trying to be friendly with other Scouts, but nearly all of them are First Born Scouts and tended to be… Odd, and very noisy and Boisterous. And they tended to cause Mischief and would complain that he was too much of a 'quiet stick in the mud about harmless pranks.' His face soured at that. If he hadn't stopped them, the prank would have, could have, hit the highest-ranking Chaplain on the base and he did not want to suffer the group punishment that would have doled out.

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 45

Chapter 44 || Index || Chapter 46

 By the time Fireheart woke up, it was somewhere close to late day, the sun well past its height and heading towards the horizon. The storm had long since left, the clouds parting to reveal the blue skies beyond. Graystripe still slumbered, so he carefully crept out of the den and into camp to avoid waking him.

The Clan was hard at work repairing camp. Most of the cats he could see had cobwebs covering one or several injuries, and his own pelt stung with several claw marks, though he didn't remember where he had gotten them. Those with injured legs were working on the camp wall, while those with other wounds were likely out patrolling or hunting.

He saw Snowkit playing alone in one corner of camp, Speckleflight watching him carefully. After the morning's scare, he couldn't blame her. The elders were sharing tongues, no doubt immortalizing Brokentail's reign in their stories. Everything was peaceful for a change.

"Fireheart!" He turned to see Yellowfang crossing camp towards him. "You're finally awake. I'm running out of marigold and I need some extra paws to help me carry it." There was a glint in her dark eyes, and he knew he couldn't refuse her; not if he wanted to keep her on his side.

"Of course! I'd be glad to." He responded quickly. "Actually, are Dewpaw and Peppermask available? The more paws the better, after all." He pointed out steadily.

"Hmm. I don't know if we'll need that much." The old molly squinted at him for a moment, scrutinizing his intentions. "But maybe you're right. Leafbare is coming, after all. Fine. I'll go fetch my apprentice." The thick-furred healer turned and headed back towards her den, leaving Fireheart to find the warrior molly. After a moment he spotted her, working on the nursery with Cinderpaw.

"Peppermask!" He trotted towards her swiftly. "Yellowfang wants us to help her fetch some herbs. Can you come?"

The spotted tabby looked up as he spoke, blinking a greeting as he stopped in front of her. "Are you sure Cinderpaw wouldn't be better? She's quite energetic."

"Yes, please!" The sole apprentice begged, her eyes wide as she abandoned her bramble weaving. "I've been stuck in camp weaving brambles all day. I'm sick of it!"

"No offense, Cinderpaw, but I think Yellowfang would sooner drown you than listen to you the whole time." He shook his head sadly. "Besides, she asked for Peppermask specifically."

"Aw, mousedung." The apprentice grumbled, returning back to her work with a sigh. "Well, you two warriors have fun without me."

He winced at her words. "I'm sure you'll get your chance soon." He replied, turning away from her. He wasn't entirely sure what would happen then. Snowkit was close to being apprenticed, he supposed, but it would be moons until Goldenflower's kits were ready. "Anyways, let's hurry. You know Yellowfang doesn't like to be kept waiting."

They met with the two healers at the entrance to camp. "You found her? Good. Let's get going." With a lash of her tail, she led the other three out of camp and up the ravine.

They traveled silently, towards the Twolegplace, until they found a clearing of bright yellow flowers. Many of them were soaked by the morning's rainstorm, and several had been squashed by fallen branches. 

Still, there was plenty to gather, and Dewpaw immediately began doing so as Yellowfang turned to Fireheart. "So why did you lie about Ravenspirit?"

"What?" Peppermask bristled beside him. "What're you talking about?"

"Fireheart didn't get attacked by Brokentail on the border. None of us did. And I certainly didn't bury anyone." Yellowfang replied sourly, her nose wrinkled in disapproval. "So? Out with it!"

"He-" The spotted molly turned to him. "That's why you insisted on me, isn't it? Something happened with Ravenspirit." She tilted her head as she studied him. "Does it have to do with-"

"Tigerclaw was planning to kill him." Fireheart interrupted her before she could finish. "He outright said as much to him at the Moonstone. If he had stayed, he would have died."

"So he's alive then." He turned his ears to listen as Dewpaw spoke from where she was carefully stripping flowerheads. "That's good. I… I was worried I helped send him to his death."

"Hold on." Yellowfang interrupted incredulously. "Tigerclaw was planning to kill his own son?"

Fireheart stared at her. "Yea, because of Redtail." He explained hurriedly. "I thought you knew all this."

"Redtail?" Her copper eyes were baffled as she stared back at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The night Dewpaw was made a healer apprentice, you told me to keep quiet about it!" He responded, equally confused. What else could she have been talking about? "We were talking about Redtail, and then you said-"

"I was talking about the prophecy! You were going to blurt it out to the whole Clan!" Her fur bristled angrily. "I don't know what you're talking about with Redtail."

"What prophecy?"

"You mean you don't-" She caught herself after a moment and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, Starclan."

All four of them looked at each other in confusion. "What prophecy?" Fireheart repeated. What was she talking about? He'd never heard of any sort of prophecy in his life.

"I honestly thought you knew. That's why you attacked Brokentail, is it not?"

"I attacked Brokentail because he was going to kill you!" The ginger tom shook his head in disbelief. "So you had no idea why Redtail was showing up?"

"No!" Yellowfang sat down, staring at him as myriad emotions swirled through her eyes. "Starclan above, that changes things."

"Maybe a little!" Fireheart turned his gaze over to the two sisters. "What prophecy? What even is a prophecy, anyways? Like, I've heard it in the elders’ stories, but an actual-"

"Sometimes Starclan speaks to us outside the Moonstone." Dewpaw cut in before he could stick his paw in his mouth. "They only do so when there's grave danger coming. Those are prophecies. They're very rare, though. Spottedleaf told me when I was a kit that the last one she received was about Bluestar." Her tail drooped at the mention of her mentor. He didn't blame her; though it seemed like ages ago, the healer had only died that morning. She hadn't had time to process her grief.

"Yes, that's correct." Yellowfang's gaze stared out into the forest. "Goosefeather was notorious for spouting them. Whether Starclan actually spoke to him or not, I cannot say." 

"Okay. So there was a prophecy about, what? Brokentail? I guess that makes sense." He had certainly pulled Starclan's attention, after all. Breaking the warrior code left and right, killing cats by the clawful - no wonder they thought the Clans were in grave danger.

"I suppose there's no point in hiding it, since it's been fulfilled." The dark gray healer finally looked back at him. "Fireheart, the prophecy was about you."

"Me?" He bristled in shock. "But why? I'm barely a warrior!" 

"You're more than that, in Starclan's eyes." She replied steadily, her eyes clearer now. "Fire alone can save our Clan. I received it less than a moon after Raggedstar's death. Brokentail had already begun pulling the Clan away from the warrior code when he assigned Badgerkit to be Spiderfoot's apprentice at three moons old. I knew Shadowclan was in danger."

Fireheart blinked, shock washing over him. He had heard that phrase before, when he had spoken to Redtail. But why would Redtail care about Shadowclan's problems? "So they knew that I would attack Brokentail?" He scoffed at that. "So what? It wasn't that big a deal. Someone else would have done it if I hadn't."

"I didn't know what it meant for a while." Yellowfang admitted. "I thought perhaps it was referring to a Shadowclanner, but I didn't know who. It wasn't until I was attacked by a young tom named Firepaw in Thunderclan territory that I began to understand."

"You're still holding that against me? I've apologized a dozen times!" Fireheart spat crossly. "If I could go back and undo it, I would!"

"But if you hadn't, we would have passed through your territory unnoticed. We may never have returned to the Clans." The old healer replied, her voice steady and clear as she spoke. "It was you who rescued Mosspaw and Volepaw and swayed Thunderclan's mind. And it was you that led the charge to chase out Brokentail, in the end." She shook her broad head with a soft smile. "Starclan was right. Fire saved Shadowclan from Brokentail."

"But- That's-" He frowned. He was an ordinary apprentice! At the time it was given, he had barely been accepted into Thunderclan - if he had even been part of the Clan at all! Why would Starclan pay attention to a lousy kittypet? He kneaded his claws in and out, not sure how to explain his disbelief.

"Starclan works in mysterious ways." The dark molly shrugged. "It is not up to us to know how they think. We can only interpret what they tell us."

"Can we go back to Ravenspirit being alive? And how Tigerclaw was about to kill him?" Peppermask interrupted them, her green eyes narrow as she stared at him. 

"I just told the Clan that so Tigerclaw doesn't try to find him." Fireheart explained quickly. "And even if he does find out Ravenspirit lives, he's far enough away that Tigerclaw won't come after him."

"Why does Tigerclaw want his son dead so badly?" Yellowfang interjected, shock creeping back into her eyes. "And what does that have to do with Redtail?"

"Tigerclaw killed Redtail because he wanted to be deputy instead, and Ravenspirit saw it." The new warrior told the clueless healer, trying to catch her up on the sordid events of recent moons quickly. "Ever since then, Redtail's been haunting us to do something about Tigerclaw and get revenge for him."

"Also, we were all apprentices when we found this out, and we didn't think Bluestar would believe us." Peppermask's green eyes were blazing as she glared at him. "And now that we're warriors and maybe earned her trust, you've gone and gotten rid of the only evidence we had!"

"We had to keep him safe!" Fireheart retorted. "Tigerclaw was actively plotting to murder him with Darkstripe. I overheard it right before we left for the Moonstone. We couldn't keep an eye on him all the time!"

"Yeah, but now what are we supposed to do? Tell Bluestar that the Clan's top warrior is a secret traitor, just trust us on that though?" She shook her head angrily, her tail lashing. "Now we're stuck in the same situation we were before!"

"There's got to be some other evidence. And Ravenspirit isn't even that far away." He huffed angrily back at her. "We'll figure it out. You're the smartest out of all of us, I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Yeah, but-" She broke off in a snarl, turning away from him. "Toms!" She spat out as she began pacing in a circle.

Yellowfang was watching and listening to their debate stoically, though he could tell her thoughts were racing. "And what about Redtail?" She asked. "You said he shows up in your dreams?"

"No, he shows up around here. Like he did in the healer's den, with Spottedleaf." He wished he could make the dead deputy show up and just explain things to Bluestar, but of course it could never be that easy. "Apparently he used to talk to Ravenspirit, when we were still apprentices, but now he mostly shows up behind my shoulder all threateningly."

"You don't say." Yellowfang responded dryly. "I never would have guessed."

He blinked in surprise at her tone as she spoke, before noticing her gaze staring past him. This time, when he turned around, he spotted Redtail staring at them from behind a tree, nearly blending into it with his tabby coat. Peppermask bristled beside him, while Dewpaw continued silently stripping flowers as she stared stoically at the ghostly tom.

"Redtail!" He snapped. "Why don't you come out and explain all this to Yellowfang, huh? Or better yet, Bluestar herself?" He took a step towards the calico tom. "Maybe actually help us get your revenge instead of spooking everyone for a change?"

As soon as he moved closer, the tom jumped away with a flash of his namesake tail, vanishing among the leaffall leaves. Fireheart knew better than to try chasing him. He could disappear into nothingness at any moment, so what was the point?

He sighed and turned back to Yellowfang. "I think that's about everything. Sorry that Thunderclan isn't the perfect Clan it appears to be."

"I knew that from the moment you broke my leg." The healer smirked as he groaned at the mention of his worst mistake. "But I certainly believe you. Stranger things have happened in the forest before, though it was usually when Goosefeather was involved." She sighed and shook her head bemusedly.

"So now that everything's out in the open, what do we do?" Fireheart asked the other three. "Ravenspirit might be able to return and speak up against Tigerclaw, but Peppermask is right. We should try and figure out some other form of evidence."

"If you want my advice, you've all done quite enough for the time being." He perked one orange ear towards Yellowfang as she spoke. "You've thwarted his plotting for now. I might be able to persuade Bluestar there's more to Tigerclaw than it seems, but that will take time, perhaps a few trips to the Moonstone." She shook her wide head slowly. "The best warriors know when to wait patiently."

Peppermask hesitated. "But- what if he goes after our dad? What's to stop him from killing another deputy?"

Fireheart grimaced at her questions. He had to admit she was right; now that Ravenspirit was out of the way, the dark tabby would see no more obstacles to his next victim.

"He has three warriors and both healers to protect him. I'm sure Redtail is watching over him as well." The old healer pointed out steadily. "They claim prey runs over the paws of those who wait. Perhaps Tigerclaw will do the same."

The spotted warrior didn't seem quite convinced, but nodded in agreement. "Very well. Waiting it is."

"How's that marigold coming, Dewpaw?" Yellowfang asked as she stood up and stretched. "We should probably be getting back. The vigils will be starting soon."

The healer's apprentice pushed a pile of bright yellow flowers towards them. "This should be enough for the whole season, if we're lucky." She remarked in her typical quiet voice. "Be careful picking them up. The more juice you can preserve, the better."

They each carefully collected a mouthful of the marigold, trying not to squeeze it too tightly as Dewpaw had requested. It was a slow walk back to camp, and by the time they entered camp the sun had almost set. Fireheart hurriedly deposited the flowers on the healer's stone workspace before rushing back out to see Graystripe exiting the warriors' den with a ferocious yawn.

"Fireheart!" The gray tom hurried over to greet his fellow warrior. "Dad woke me up. He said it's almost time for our vigil." 

"And the vigil for Spottedleaf and Ravenspirit." He looked to see Dappleshine emerge from the healer's den, followed by Yellowfang carrying Spottedleaf's body and Dewpaw behind her. Shortly after, Dustleap, Speckleflight and Sandstorm came out from the shadows to sit nearby. Ravenspirit's half-siblings and second adoptive mother, alongside Dappleshine, so it made sense they would all come to mourn the 'fallen' warrior. They sat in the middle of camp, a respectful distance from Spottedleaf, presumably sitting vigil for Ravenspirit even though they had no body.

"There you two are." It was Bluestar, deftly avoiding the mourners to speak to her two newest warriors. "It is time for you both to sit vigil until dawn. All cats in camp will be putting their lives in your paws, including those mourning the fallen." She stared at both of them sternly. "I expect I don't have to remind you two how important this night of listening is."

Fireheart shook his head quickly, and he could sense Graystripe beside him do the same. "Good. Go on, then." She flicked her tail to dismiss them, then turned and padded over to Spottedleaf's body. Of course she would mourn the calico; Spottedleaf had served as healer beside her for a long time. It was understandable she would want to see her off on the Startrail.

Fireheart padded over to sit beside the entrance to camp. Graystripe took a spot near the nursery, flicking an ear at what he assumed was the mewling of several kits inside. They met each other's gazes from across camp and nodded solemnly before looking back out over their home. 

Their vigil had begun.

[r2d2records]

Record #1

Even before that fateful night when everything had begun, I had noticed some changes to my master. One of these changes wasn’t readily apparent to anyone else. 

I had been with him during the day before we were planning to leave Endor. We were both inside the hut that the Ewoks had prepared for us. As part of his shirt had been torn, the princess had provided him with another. It was when he went to put it on that I first became aware of the marks: strange, jagged, red patterns that surrounded the front of his waist and part of his right arm, above the electronic hand. I couldn’t recall at first where I had seen something like that, so I searched my memory diligently. I wasn’t immediately able to find the data. 

I asked him what they were, but he didn’t answer me. He seemed preoccupied with wandering around the room, so I placed myself in his path, and repeated the question. He can’t always understand everything I say, so I wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed my question. He ignored me again. Now I was beginning to get upset. My master always listens to me. 

At that moment, there came a knock at the door. It was the princess. They left together, and I was forced to hurry to avoid being left behind. 

I watched him closely for the rest of the day, but everything seemed to be all right. Captain Solo was scheduled to return that evening, and things seemed to be returning to a kind of normal. 

I met my friend near the end of the day. I didn’t tell him about the marks, because he tends to blow everything out of proportion. 

“I’m glad we’re leaving, tomorrow,” he said, “Though, I’ve grown rather fond of Endor.”

I told him that it was just because he enjoyed the Ewoks treating him like the god he already thought he was. 

“Don’t be absurd! But, I will miss them. They’ve been quite hospitable,” he said. 

While we were talking, there was a bright flash of lightning in the sky. The bolt forked across the darkness, causing the dark sky over the forest to turn bright blue for a moment. 

“Just what we need—come on, R2,” my friend said. He began to head back to the village. 

I stayed where I was, watching the sky. I replayed the footage of the lightning as it streaked across the sky. Then, I searched my memory further. Of course. Those marks looked like the patterns that lightning makes when it strikes the ground. 

My friend hesitated, and turned back to me. 

“Oh, do come on, won’t you!” he called. 

I told him that I’d come when I felt like it, thank you very much. 

“Have it your way. I’m certainly not going to wait out here for you, and risk becoming a lightning rod,” he said.

I wanted to respond with a sarcastic comment, but at that moment I saw the princess and my master heading back towards the village from somewhere in the forest. I hurried to meet them. They seemed to be in good spirits, which put me at ease. 

“She sounds very nice,” the princess was saying.

“She was,” my master said, “There was this time when I borrowed Uncle Owen’s best toolkit without asking, and lost it. She and I looked everywhere for it. We turned the place upside down, and still didn’t find it.” 

The princess laughed. “Was he mad?” she asked.

“Well—she ended up buying him a new one, so he wouldn’t find out,” my master added, sheepishly, “but, we forgot that his kit was missing the fourth calibrator, so he found out anyway.” 

They stopped walking just below the village. Above us, Bright Tree Village was a bustle of activity as the Ewoks prepared for the coming storm. The princess looked up at them, then back at my master.

“I wish I could have met her,” she said. 

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky. The princess looked towards it, then at my master. “I should go. Get some sleep,” she said. 

I thought that my master looked like he wanted to say something. He hesitated, and she started to walk away. 

“Leia?” he said. 

She paused. 

“You too,” he said. 

She smiled, and headed for one of the rope ladders. I watched her leave. Then, I followed my master up to our room. 

During the night, a loud noise reached my audio sensors, bringing me out of low-power mode. I looked around the room, and realized that my master was gone. I wondered if he could have gone to see the princess, so I hurried out of the hut. 

When I reached the hut where the princess was staying, the lights were on, and she was awake. I remembered her saying that she was going to stay awake until Captain Solo arrived.  When I entered, I found her and Captain Solo. It seemed that he had just returned. The princess seemed upset. At least, that’s what I assumed from seeing her aiming a blaster at him that was hopefully set to ‘stun’. 

“You really don’t change, do you?” she was saying. 

Captain Solo laughed nervously, and moved the tip of the blaster away from him. “Let’s talk about this calmly—“ he began. 

“Calmly?” the princess asked. 

I asked the princess if she had seen my master. She didn’t respond. 

“Fine,” she continued, “Let’s talk calmly. How many?”

“How many?” Captain Solo asked. 

“How many shipments did you smuggle on your way here?” the princess asked, with a tremendous effort at patience. 

“Smuggle?” Captain Solo asked, sounding surprised, “Hey, now… You don’t think that I would—“

She gave him a glare that cut his sentence short. Captain Solo took her hands in his, slyly using it as an opportunity to remove the blaster from them. “I’m just taking a small job, from a respectable gentleman,” Captain Solo said, “There’s nothing to worry about.” 

The princess didn’t sound convinced. “I’m not going to have to rescue you from this ‘respectable gentleman’?” she asked. 

“No, no,” Captain Solo said, “Of course not.” 

“You’re not going to get arrested?” the princess asked. 

“I’m a new man,” Captain Solo promised. He bent forward and gave her a kiss. She suddenly looked alarmed, and stepped back. 

“Leia—“ Captain Solo began. He paused, noticing her expression. “What is it?” 

“Luke,” the princess said quietly, a far-away look in her eyes. She turned to me abruptly, “Where is Luke?”

The next instant, the three of us were outside, searching the forest near Bright Tree Village. As we headed deeper into the trees, Captain Solo paused. 

“Are you sure he’s not in the village?” Captain Solo asked. 

“No,” the princess said. She turned to face me. “He didn’t say anything?”

I said no. I had been in low-power mode for the night, so I didn’t even have a visual recording of him leaving. 

Just then, thunder rolled above us. Captain Solo looked at the sky, nervously. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said. “Let’s get back before the storm—“ he noticed the princess had frozen, her eyes wide. “What is it?” he asked. 

The princess pointed to something in the distant darkness. 

At first, it was impossible to see in the darkness. Then, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. My master was at the top of the ridge overlooking the area of forest where the Millennium Falcon was. He had his right hand stretched towards the forest. 

A strange, cracking sound reached my audio-sensors. I looked towards the source of the sound, and saw one of the large trees beginning to shake. 

Look out! I warned the princess. Captain Solo grabbed her by the arm, and they both fell to the ground, as the tree lurched towards them. After a second, they both looked up, to see the tree suspended in midair. 

Before we had time to recover, a second tree soared skyward. Then another. We were surrounded by several floating trees, their long roots showering the ground with dirt. Everything seemed to be frozen in time.

“Do you hear something?” Captain Solo asked. The princess looked towards the ridge. He looked back towards the ship, and gave an exclamation that I refuse to record. 

Behind us, the Millennium Falcon had risen several feet into the air, and was continuing to rise, unsteadily. It lurched to one side abruptly, causing Captain Solo to swear again. 

“I don’t think she’s insured against… whatever this is,” Captain Solo said, faintly, “Leia—Leia!” He added, alarmed. The princess had begun to climb the base of the ridge. I tried to follow, but the incline was too steep. I looked around quickly for another way, and discovered a small path upwards through the trees. I called the princess to direct her to the path, but she was already halfway up the ridge. 

Just as I reached the top of the trees, and was in sight of the ridge, I heard my master give a cry. I saw one of the red marks, visible at the edge of his arm, turn white. He suddenly collapsed.

I heard a sound, and turned to see one of the trees fall to the ground. Then another. I couldn’t see Captain Solo clearly. Then, I saw him in the distance, his hands on his head, staring in horror as the Millennium Falcon began its sudden descent. 

I gave a low whistle, and wanted to look away. Then, I noticed the ship halt in midair. The princess stood at the top of the ridge, her hand shaking. She had a look of intense concentration. 

“How are you doing that?” Captain Solo called from below. 

“Shut up!” she called back. The ship hovered close to the ground for a moment. 

And then, it flipped upside down, and landed on the ground. 

I ignored Captain Solo’s cries, and raced to join her. She ran the rest of the way to where my master was, and knelt down on the ground next to him. 

“Luke! Wake up—“ she began. 

It was clear that he was in pain, but he didn’t respond to her voice. I asked her if she wanted me to go and get help. She didn’t seem to hear me. She was looking over me, towards the forest. Her mouth moved like she was trying to say something. 

“General Kenobi,” she said at last. 

The storm broke. 

[ja3hwa]

Harmless | San

「Synopsis」 : A mysterious plant catches your eye, but what happens when the useless plant becomes not so useless...How would react to their bunmy hybrid mate getting hurt? [A mini series]

「Word count」 : 1.02k

-> Genre: Suggestive, Fluff, Fantasy

Paring: Wolf!San x Hybrid!Reader

[Warnings] : Sex pollen, suggestive, swearing, reader goes crazy for San. If I missed anything let me know.

For other members click -> Here

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

[This can be read as a stand alone]

Working long hours in your greenhouse was something you enjoyed. Even though to others it might have seemed like a chore, making healing agents, potions, or writing your studies down on any and all new plants you discover. The wolves envy your hard work and only wished for your stamina. The brothers would make jokes questioning if you were truly a rabbit given you don't have the want for long sleep or laziness. But then again, a lazy nap session with San was one of your favourite things to do. You fitted in, in other words. You could go out on patrols with some of the boys, gathering supplies without the worry of slowing them down. You were useful, and everyone enjoyed having your fuzzy kind company.

You have been stuck in yet another project, studying a new plant that was recently discovered on the outskirts of the pack grounds. It was a bright purple flower on red-ish pink vines, the leaves have small detailing of blue mixing in the purple. You haven't seen a plant like this in all your years of study. A lot of the members were worried it could be poisonous but through hours and hours of testing nothing toxic seemed to be showing. You were stumped, confused about what the plant's purpose would be. But as you sat at your desk with the plant sitting on the large dark oak table that hugs the wall in the corner of the room, you rub your temples feeling a sense of frustration.

You let out a big huff standing up with a loud scratch of your wooden chair sliding against the floor. If you weren't going to be able to find out its purpose, maybe giving it a purpose will help you feel less annoyed at the mystery plant.

Grabbing some beakers, your knife kit and various other sharp and pinching tools that would make any outsider think you were about to perform surgery on the plant. But in truth it was a form of surgery, you wanted some of the content of the plant to work on without actually hurting or killing the plant. So if someone said you were performing surgery, they wouldn't be wrong. Picking up a scalpel and tweezers, you carefully cut one of anther's off the filament. You hold your breath as you place the anther —making sure not to lose any of the pollen that is stuck to it— on the small tray you prepared.

You grab some herbs and other ingredients for a very basic calming potion. Maybe the flower can bring a weakening agent or even a fatigue spell. You pour, cut and throw different leaves, and spices into the small pot, letting it start to brew. The liquor starts to turn its normal blueish colour with the smell of fresh grass and lilies filling your nose. You pick up the pollen slowly with the tweezers, dropping it into the concoction.

"Nothing!?" You started at the pot in disbelief, normally when you add a new ingredient there would be a change almost immediately. Leaning closer to the potion you inhale the smell to see if the scent changed and even that was still the same. Maybe the flower was indeed useless, and it was nothing but a harmless little flowe—

"Fuck!!" You swear at a blast of bright purple smoke spraying straight into your face, invading your senses within seconds. You cough out, closing your eyes, rubbing the left one while placing the lid on the pot, sealing the smoke from spilling out even more.

"Well, I guess you're not useless." You take a sharp inhale as your voice was croaky from the vaper. You stand up to fetch your logbook from your desk but as your feet hit the ground you felt a sudden shiver cores through you. Your legs become jelly, and your vision blurs slightly, but not enough that you cant see. A weird feeling overwhelms your system. It was almost like the feeling of a heat, but much, much worse.

You try to shake the feeling, leaning against the desk, almost gasping for air. You look around the room, searching for something, anything. At this point, you have no clue what you're searching for. You bring your hand up to your face and an audible shock echoes in the greenhouse. Veins of purple scatter all over your hands and up your arms. Looking down you spot them peaking out of the cuffs of your pants. You were covered in them.

"Sweetheart are you okay I heard screamin—Y/N! Oh my god!" San stops mid-sentence, running over to you. His eyes scan with worry, you were covered in strange veins. Your eyes tinted purple with the white of your eyes bloodshot. You stare at him desperately, with eyes that he would only be able to call 'bedroom eyes'.

"San, Help me." You plea, rubbing your thighs tightly together, leaning into his touch as his hand snakes around your waist. You felt like a wild animal, lost in primal instinct. Your fingers claw at his clothes as tears began to run down your cheeks. "Please Sannie, it hurts so bad."

"What hurts baby, tell me what's wrong. What happened?" He held you closer, drawing circles into your hips, which made you crave his touch more.

"The-The flower. It's a lascivious toxin." You practically moan out, leaning back so San's body and the table would trap you. You feel so hot, sweat beading down your forehead. He looks at your with confusion, feeling himself grow with worry and lust. He can smell you dripping, but he shakes the thought, trying to make sure you are okay first.

"W-what does that mean Sweets?" He asks, bringing his hand up to hold the back of your neck.

"Argh, It's a toxin that makes you horny San!!" You look at him dead in the eyes, frustration taking over. "It makes you very..." You grind your hips against his. "Very..." You do it again. "Very horny..."

"Oh..." I mean at least you are not actually in pain... Well the bad kind anyway.

-

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[nightly-ruse]

Overly complicated Ashstar Au: Part 1

(Spans over TNP, PO3, TBC. In this I don’t think OOTS would happen since the conflict is changed and AVOS would happen but in a shorter span of time, in like a super edition or short series)

Inspired a lot by @lockandkeyhyena ‘s au! Go check him out he’s making a animatic currently and it looks awesome for his ashstar au. Part 2 here!

Bramble becomes deputy of TC like in canon, he and Squirrel are mates but problems ofc are there bc he doesn’t like Ashfur and he’s her friend. But Squirrel doesn’t trust Hawkfrost and Bramble is being a little pissy boy about it, punishing her a lot. Very toxic already. (For technicality’s sake I’m saying he trained Whitepaw while Ash trained Birchpaw)

While Ash is now dating Hawk he does still have this attachment to Squirrel. And definitely hates seeing how Bramble treats her.

Hawkfrost crafts his plan to test his brother, either he kills Firestar or he betrays him and if he does then Ash is to leap from the bushes behind him and knock him out. What they get planned for was Brambleclaw attacking Hawkfrost. Caught in surprise he couldn’t roll out of the way of the stake going through his chest. Ashfur is horrified and leap out, but he has to act fast so he rescues Firestar who was coming back from receiving his life and told him that Bramble was working with Hawkfrost to kill him and become leader just like Tigerstar did! Fire is shocked but remembers Tigerclaw doing the same to Bluestar so long ago so he denounces Brambleclaw as deputy and makes Ashfur his deputy instead.

Squirrelflight is obviously horrified, she suspected Hawk of being untrustworthy but never her own mate. She breaks up with him and cries to Ash about it, who can’t help but love that he’s the one she turned to. Though ever beat of his heart reminds him of Hawkfrost. He felt this airy love and warmth with him. His hatred to Bramble is solidified even more. Now Brambleclaw is treated as a cat in their clan, not a clanmate but just there. And Ash makes sure to make his life even harder by giving him many unwanted chores, keeping him away from Squilf, and always making him do Dawn and Dusk patrols.

A bit after this and still reeling from the shock of her ex mate trying to kill her father she agrees to go with Leafpool, and immediately takes in the three for her. When she returns she never states who their sire is, some believing it’s most likely Brambleclaw and she just didn’t want to associate him with her kits. But Ash, looking at the small gray spotty tom with soft blue eyes can’t help but wonder what if their his? Immediately he feels unsure but keeps up the act of a uncle figure to them, helping out when Leaf isn’t there since she’s always so cold to him.

Squirrelflight asks her dad to make one of them apprenticed to Ashfur, a gesture by her to show she cares a lot about him helping her raise the kits (tho it’s purely platonic on her end). As such he gets Lionpaw, the overly ambitious, quick to act, and roaringly loud young cat just as his namesake. While he does try to be a good mentor Lionpaw is a handful and he gets real tired of the guy, sometimes being a bit too harsh though he tries to be nice. He does notice the toms fighting skill and learns that battle training is the best way to keep him interested.

Then he overhears it, walking back to drop off his squirrel and take a nap, he hears whispering form the healer den. Curious he gets closer and sneaks forward to hear. Inside Squilf and Leaf are talking in hushed voices about the three. “We should tell them Leaf it’s not right to keep them in the dark! Plus their almost warriors.” He hears in a anxious tone from Squilf though Leaf’s reply was sharper and clearly a no “Squirrel if anyone finds out who really fathered them I’ll lose everything, they’ll hate us don’t you know? Their whole world would break if they knew!”

He jumps back and drops off the squirrel, shaking the bristling down his spine and trying to stay cool. Too emotional he takes a walk instead, going down to the lake to think. Ash knows they aren’t his now. The little hope of a life after feels like it was shattered. All he can feel is the anger bc if he’s not the sire to them, then their Brambles. The cat who killed his mate here at the lake and hurt Squirrel. Sorry excuse of a mate for her at all when they were together. She chose him? Anger fuels him and he wants vengeance. He would make them feel the pain he did at losing everyone around him.

(For note, no Squirrel never “chose” Brambleclaw over him this is deluded thinking that she is his and any relation to him would be cheating. She didn’t and she is completely innocent just trapped in the crosshairs of two horrible nasty guys who like to control her)

He gets a flaming branch, one he found while checking camp after it was struck by lightning and brought it to a bramble bush near camp, where he tossed it to start the fire. He plays up being the deputy by helping everyone out, going in to ‘save’ the remaining cats who he knows are just Squirrel, the three, and Bramble.

There it is. The three trapped, Squirrel having trouble to push the branch to them. He helps but before they reach the other side he pushes it over, hanging them over the fire on this teetering branch, any moment able to catch on fire and crash them into the fiery flames below. Squirrel shrieks “What are you doing?!” And he just scoffs as he hold the branch steady. She can’t push him away or he’ll lose his grip and the branch will fall along with the three shaking cats she called her kits.

He screams his feelings out. He hated them. He hated her. But most of all he hated the blood that ran through them from their monstrous father. He’s about to lift his paw and let them plummet but Squirrel says the truth. They aren’t her kits. They aren’t Bramble’s most definitely. She took them in because their mother couldn’t. She raised them as her own but she wasn’t the one to kit them. The three are shocked, Ash is surprised. But he can’t let them die now. They don’t deserve that. They didn’t lie or share any blood with the cat who murdered his mate. And they just learned their mom wasn’t even their blood mother. He lets them over, Lionpaw saving Squirrel from a branch as they fled that tried to fall on her but they all make it out with few burns.

None of them speak of what happens as he crafts his plan to hurt the one who really deserved it, not some kits who were innocent of it all. He’s at the river, staring at its moonlit reflection. Memories of laying on his mates back as they floated on the waters surface (like otters), the bright eyes his frosty eyes look at him. He’s swirling his paws in the light when paws slam into his back, pushing him into its depths. He can’t breathe. The waters filling his lungs. But he wasn’t weak, pushing up he launches the cat off his back but they quickly bounce back to finish him off. They wrestle, the only discernible feature of his attacker being hostile glowing green eyes. He’s pinned as claws sink into his throat. He’s about to die. But he can’t yet. No matter how much he missed Hawk he couldn’t see him till he fulfilled what they couldn’t.

“I know who your parents are! I know who really kitted you!”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader)

I can explain. 

Please don't come at me for starting a new project before finishing Cult Girl Doctorate. I hit a wall and needed to take a break. I am trying not to let this one take up too much time.

Y/n is a sorceress-in-training who’s known for being hard to teach. Sensing her potential, Doctor Strange takes her on as an apprentice. 

You firmly believed that shattering the urn of Fei-Amie was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

It happened a year ago, but it still replayed in your head over and over again. You made a conscious effort to remember it vividly. 

Sure, it was terrifying, Stephen Strange's initial look of anger when he heard the ceramic shatter. It softened when he saw that the culprit was just a clumsy sorceress-in-training who looked on the verge of tears with remorse. Still, it was a face you never wanted to see again: his teeth bared, his already sharp features accentuated under the constraints of anger. 

It diluted into silent, simmering frustration that revealed itself to you in short sarcastic jabs and body language. 

"Just, stop." He cut you off after a string of profuse sorries. With no disarming smile in sight, you could tell he was tense. "Artifacts get broken all the time. Don't cry. It was an accident." 

His tone indicated that he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. You were a closed-off person and could hardly stand the idea that anyone out there didn't like you. The idea of the Sorcerer Supreme being mad at you, personally, made you briefly consider ritual suicide. You lowered your head. "Yes, Master Strange."

"Hey, butterfingers." He called out after you as you tried to make a painless exit. You looked back at him and he gestured to the pile of broken ceramic pieces. "You gonna fix what you broke?"

It hadn't dawned on you that an ancient relic could be fixed. Especially one that once contained the ashes of the ancient necromancer Fei-Amie. You were embarrassed to say that your knowledge of manipulating time was surface-level at best, and couldn't think of any other solution. 

You wordlessly gathered the pieces up in your skirt and carried them off, striking out any plans to go into town that evening. Instead, you poured through book after book for any instruction whatsoever on repairing broken artifacts. You ran out of desk space, so books were just floating in the air, suspended on pages that briefly mentioned relic breakage. 

You started to believe you were given an impossible task. Or perhaps all the resources you needed, he was withholding. Even so, you didn't want to go back to him empty-handed. You changed into your street clothes and opened a portal to the local craft store.

You returned with two types of extra-strong superglue and got to work. First, you made all the pieces come together and had them hover over the desk. Unconsciously, you began to sing as you pieced the urn back together. 

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

"Haven't heard that song in years." 

You dropped the tube of glue and the few remaining pieces fell back to the desk. "Master Strange!" 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He said, though his apology was undercut by his smug tone. "Carry on." 

You picked up a piece and began to line the edges with glue. 

"Aren't you going to finish the song?" 

You looked up to see that he hadn't been just passing by. He was leaning against the threshold, watching you. 

"I don't usually sing for an audience." You laughed, uncomfortably. "Just me." 

"A man and his sentient cape should not count as an audience," he scoffed. "But, if you insist, I guess I'll have to just listen to Julie Andrews instead." 

"What's wrong with her?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Oh, nothing. She's a treasure." He put his hands up. "But everyone gets to hear her sing. And I take it that only a very select few get to hear your rendition of my favorite things. I just have to be one of them." 

You blushed, suddenly forgetting all the words to my favorite things. 

"Girls in white dresses..." he offered, an impatient edge to it.

You swallowed. "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes-"

"Hey, butterfingers." He interrupted again. Before you could object, he pointed to the way that the pieces floated gracefully overhead at the sound of your voice. 

"I'd like to see Julie Andrews do that." He said with a wink.

"Looks alright," Master Strange said, running his finger along the tight seams that showed where cracks once were. 

"Will it still work?" You asked. That was really all you were worried about. 

"Beats the hell out of me." He shrugged. "I didn't know how to use it to begin with." 

"What?!" You spat back. "Are you kidding?" 

"I'm afraid not." He said, taking the urn and placing it back on its pedestal. "Don't worry, you did a good job. I'm not mad at you anymore." 

That was really all you needed to hear. "Thank you, sir." 

"You're an apprentice, right?" He asked. 

"I'm..." Your voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Between masters right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I were to ask around, would I receive glowing reviews from your last masters?" 

You admitted it point-blank. "No." 

"Let me guess," he folded his arms. "Something didn't make sense to you and instead of giving you the space to question it, they insisted you follow blindly." 

You wanted to throw your head back and shout in relief; finally, someone understood! 

"Bingo, bullseye." You put your hands up in surrender after being read so easily. "Right on the money."

"I see." He said, tucking that thought away for later. "Could I trouble you for one more odd job before you go?" 

"That depends." You folded your arms. "What is it?" 

He looked over his shoulder at his cape. "How are you with sewing?"

‘Sewing' was not the verb you would use to describe repairing the tears in the Cloak of Levitation. It was taller and stronger than you and it did not want to be repaired. It was closer to performing surgery on a fully grown mountain lion that could rip your head off at any minute. 

"Like putting eyeshadow on a cat," Master Strange said. It flicked its edge contemptuously, while still clinging to his shoulders for dear life. "I'm a licensed surgeon and it won't let me within 20 feet of it with a needle." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." You said, thoroughly discouraged. All he'd given you to work with was a spool of thread and a pack of needles. 

He tried with sincere force to remove the cloak, but it wouldn't budge. "Of course, now it knows you're coming at it with the sewing kit and it won't leave my shoulders." 

"Maybe I can work with that?" You shrugged. You threaded the needle and hid it in your hand. 

You approached the cloak, only for it to shove Master Strange in your way like a human shield. 

"Listen, you naughty little blanket." He scolded, turning around to face it as if it were a puppy that had just wrecked the living room. "If you don't let her fix you, you're going in the washing machine. Extra spin." 

It shuddered, and, for a moment, you thought it was going to comply. You slowly took a step forward, only for it to dart as soon as your foot hit the ground. It made its escape with a large crash through the heavy wooden doors of the library. 

"Hey!" You shouted, chasing after it. "Get back here!" 

You caught a glimpse of it headed towards the relic room, so, without thinking, you opened a portal to make it there first. You reached it only seconds before the cloak breached the threshold, with only enough time to grab it by the edge. 

"Come here!" You exclaimed, giving it a full force tug. It tugged back, overpowering you to the tenth degree. It dragged you across the room and into the foyer. You yanked on it, only for it to escape from your grip and send you flying back into the wall. You wondered for a second how such a sturdy piece of fabric could possibly be in need of maintenance. 

"Bastard." You mumbled, rubbing the spot where your head collided with the wall. The pain didn't stop you, though. You were on your feet within seconds, pursuing the naughty blanket all over again. 

You heard the words of one of your many, many masters ringing in your ears; "never outrun what you can outsmart". Or maybe that was from a Garfield comic. Either way, whether or not you could outsmart the cloak was still unknown, but you had to at least try. 

You took a second to catch your breath and tried to remember where you saw it heading next. Downstairs, you thought. To the laundry room. The one place you would never look. 

You slowly but deliberately descended the stairs to the basement where the laundry was. You turned the light on and saw overturned baskets of towels, clothes, and sheets everywhere. And then a washing machine door slammed shut. You turned your head and saw a twinge of dark red hiding in the washing machine. 

You removed your shoes and socks to minimize noise, then picked up a fitted sheet that had been thrown on the ground. You mounted the washing machine and affixed the sheet to the front. The cloak would have to come shooting out the door, and you would ambush it. 

You forced the door open with your heel, holding the sheet like a giant net. As predicted, the cloak shot out like a bullet from a gun, getting caught in the sheet. It thrashed around aimlessly, trying to escape, but you had a tight grip and it wasn't going anywhere. 

"It's curtains for you!" You said, then laughed at your own joke. "Stop struggling!" 

It flailed and fought, but eventually ran out of energy and sunk to the ground. Not trusting it quite yet, you pinned it down with your whole body weight before releasing it from the sheet. As expected, it tried to fly away, but couldn't get anywhere.

"The less you fight, the faster this will go." You said, examining the fabric for any visible tears. The rip presented itself right away. About as long as your hand, right in the center. 

"What did Strange do to you?" You asked, pulling the threaded needle from your pocket. "Hold still, I'm going to fix it." 

Once the needle hit fabric, the cloak stopped trying to fly away and instead writhed about on the floor like it was about to die. You fixed the tear with as many stitches as you could make, then pulled it shut. Once you knew the thread was secure, you rolled off the cloak and let it fly free. 

It shot up, but froze, noticing something was different. It swished itself around, unaccustomed to the feeling of air not blowing right through its center. 

"You're welcome." You said with a shrug. "It's not like I had to chase you all around the sanctum to make it happen." 

Without any warning, the cloak scooped you up and squeezed you. Your initial reaction was that this was its revenge and you were taking your final breaths, but you could tell it was gratitude by the way it gently set you down on the ground. 

"Happy to help." You gasped for air. "Just remember this feeling if I ever have to do this again." 

"Not bad, butterfingers." Master Strange told you, though the tone of his voice conveyed he was impressed beyond a simple 'not bad'. 

"Not bad?" You protested. "I absolutely crushed it." 

He ran his finger down the uneven but sturdy stitching. When his face met yours again, he was smiling with genuine enthusiasm that managed to eek through his dry, sarcastic exterior. It came out as an admittedly very handsome sideways smirk as his eyes scanned you up and down. 

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, heading towards the open doors. 

“Wait.” The doors slammed shut before you could reach them. You turned around to see Master Strange still examining the stitching. "You wouldn't leave without tea, would you?"

A pot of chai tea sat between you, filling the air with an aroma of spicy vanilla. You held the teacup in both hands, determined to never give him a reason to reinforce the "butterfingers" nickname he'd become so fond of. 

"Chai is my favorite." You said, letting the scent waft into your nose. "Yerba mate used to be my favorite, but if I drink more than two pots of it I get sick." 

"Yeah, definitely don't do that." He chuckled, bobbing his teabag up and down in the cup. "Out of curiosity, are you wondering at all why I invited you to tea?" 

"Oh, definitely." You nodded. "I was just wondering about that." 

"Would you believe it's just because I find you interesting?" He raised an eyebrow. "Good company, perhaps?" 

"Interesting? Absolutely." You agreed. "Good company is debatable." 

"I can't believe I never thought to trap the cloak in the washing machine." He rested his chin in his hand. "It seems so obvious now." 

"If it makes you feel any better," you shrugged. "It was mostly dumb luck and reckless disregard for my own life, considering it almost threw me off the balcony.” 

He glared at the cloak. “What did I tell you about trying to kill our guests?” 

It lowered its collar shamefully in his direction. 

“Don’t apologize to me!” He scolded. “Apologize to her.” 

It turned to face you and repeated the somber motion. 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “My family adopted a retired army German Shepherd growing up. I’m used to high-strung creatures that could end my life at any second.” 

“Well, rest assured, butterfingers,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “This will never happen again.”

“I, uh-” You opened your mouth before you could even really pick up on the implication he was putting down. “Wasn’t aware that there would be a chance for it to happen again?” 

“I suppose we should get down to brass tax, then.” He folded his hands in his lap. “How would you like to stay here?”

“Well-” You said, not wanting to come off as too enthusiastic, which you certainly were. “Not if it’s going to kill me-”

“If I could promise you that your life won’t be in constant danger, I would.” He cut you off. “But if you wanted safety, you wouldn’t have started studying the Mystic Arts.”

“Got me there.” You conceded, your made-up objection withering away. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He shook his head. “I’ll help you train and in return, you help me preserve the integrity of the sanctum.” 

“So an apprenticeship?” Your eyes widened. "Are you saying you want to take me on as an apprentice?" 

“I know you’ve got bad associations with that title, but yes.” He answered. “If it brings back memories of your previous masters treating you like garbage, we can call it a ‘partnership’, if you’d like.” 

Partners with the Sorcerer Supreme? You thought, butterflies materializing in your stomach. 

"That sounds great, but-" You broke eye contact and fidgeted with your fingers. "I feel like I should disclose that it wasn't really all that one-sided. I am… notoriously hard to teach."

"And who told you that?" He tilted his head. "The ones who refused to teach you?" 

You hadn't thought about it that way. "I guess."

"The way I see it, you've repaid your debt and are free to leave," he began. "But seeing how dutifully you reassembled that urn, wrangled my favorite piece of defiant outerwear, and how desperately this place is in need of some life, it might be a good idea to keep you around." 

You put your hand over your chest to still your heart. "It would be an honor." 

"Excellent." He nodded. "That saves me the trouble of having to convince you."

He brought you to a small but comfortable room with a bed and connected bathroom. 

"There's plenty of closet space for all your clothes." He said, gesturing to an antique looking bureau set. 

You dumped your duffel bag out on the bed, revealing the extent of your possessions. "Thanks, but this is all I've got." 

"Travel light, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah, I moved around a lot growing up." You admitted. "Got no real roots and all that jazz." 

"That changes now." He told you. "This is your home now so I want it to feel like it. Make the space your own."

“I don’t know how I can thank you for this.” You lowered your head, still feeling undeserving. 

“Don’t thank me yet, butterfingers.” He chuckled. “I’ve been told I tend to be a little on the egotistical side. That I don’t work well with others.”

"It's actually [F/N], if you were curious." You said, sitting on the bed and folding your hands in your lap. 

"Okay, [F/N]." he smiled. "You've been in and out of enough apprenticeships to know the drill. Early mornings, late nights. And I've got a laundry list of odd jobs for you that I'm too important to do." 

"Naturally." You nodded. His dry self-awareness inspired a little confidence that he wouldn't be a complete tyrant. 

"You did a good job today." He said, bluntly. "Thank you for your help. Keep it up and you'll make an invaluable addition to the sanctum."

You smiled downwards. "Thank you." 

"Do you often sing when you're trying to focus?" He posited. "Just, as an aside." 

You could tell the gears in his neurosurgeon's head were turning, undoubtedly trying to pin some kind of diagnosis on you as doctors were known to do. 

“I guess it’s just a force of habit.” You admitted. “I used to play piano, so when I’m working with my hands, it just kind of happens. My last master was not happy about that.” 

"Oh, screw him." He waved his hand dismissively. "He pissed away an opportunity to nurture a sorceress with a special gift for the sake of tradition. That's a mistake I won't make."

Special gift? You thought. Nobody who practiced the Mystic Arts had ever referred to anything you'd ever done as a 'gift'. Annoyance? sure. A symptom of ADHD? All the time. But 'gift'? That made it sound useful.

[overflowing-with-words]

"let me see" / likes & dislikes | lloyd g., zane j.

Febuwhump Day 5: "Let me see."

TW: Blood, small injury.

Lloyd gets  hurt on a mission, and Zane helps him out.

A/N: my two favorite trauma buds yay but no not much angst this time just kinda a little bit xD kinda wanted a break from sad but this is still kinda sad but not really okay no I need to sleep im not making sense at all

• • •

Missions are usually long, tiring, and all over very draining.

However small the opportunity, something about using their elemental powers empties their energy from them like water flowing from a tap, and Zane is usually the only one trusted to drive them home. While they sleep in the back, but that part's not usually mentioned.

He's also the one who checks them over for injuries, prepares food for the after, and throws them into bed after. The nindroid is the general after-mission caretaker, because the rest barely have the will to stay awake, let alone steer the ship home.

This time's no different, with a particularly tough fight at the end, and Zane drags them straight to bed one by one without bothering to ask them to change, scanning them throughly for any signs of injuries first.

Lloyd is the last one, and he all but dumps the unmoving boy onto his green duvet, sighing with the effort. The blonde usually is the most tired by the end of any small battles, and Zane's not entirely sure whether it's his age or the overall pure power that courses through him, using up all his excess liveliness.

A slash of blood catches his eyes, and he tugs the green ninja back up from where he's curled around his pillow, careful not the jostle the apparent wound.

A long gash sits on his arm, dripping crimson and staining the deep green. Long, but not deep, he notes with relief and leans Lloyd carefully against the edge of the bed. "I'm going to get the first aid kit. Don't fall asleep." He advises with a small smile, knowing that his sentences are useless, and that Lloyd will be sound asleep by the time he's returned with medical possessions.

True enough, by the time he's dug out the scarlet and white box from the kitchen and carried it back to the small room, he's splayed across the bed, arms hanging over the border. Zane can't help but give a small laugh at how ridiculous he looks.

If only their enemies could see the famous green ninja now, he thinks, and pulls him up again. Lloyd groans sleepily, and rests his head against the wall tiredly. Zane tears open a roll of gauze quickly, and picks up the cleaning alcohol, turning back to the teen.

"Lloyd."

Lloyd mumbles something incoherent, but sits up again, blinking blearily. "Hm?"

"Let me see your cut." Zane requests, and he holds out a arm dazedly. "Wrong arm."

"Oh," he huffs, and offers the other arm. Zane rolls up his sleeve carefully, inspecting the laceration across his arm. He dabs a cotton swab in the  cold liquid carefully, and dabs it at the cut. Lloyd barely flinches at the painful cleaning, and the nindroid wonders for a second how used he is to feeling pain, by now.

Probably very used, he thinks, wincing slightly, and puts the damp cotton to a side. He winds the snow white linen across the raw cut cautiously. Lloyd instinctively draws his hand back when the tear is touched, but Zane hangs onto it firmly, finishing the bandaging with a small tie expertly.

He's got a lot of medical information saved in his drive, now. Too much. Zane lifts the worn out ninja back onto the pillow, dragging the duvet over him.

"Thanks, Zane." Lloyd says faintly, half closed green eyes lingering on him. The nindroid smiles, and clicks the electric lights off. "No worries, Lloyd. Sleep well."

The door closes with a small thud, and Zane strolls down the empty hallway, turning off lights and closing windows. The whole house is filled with a deafening silence, and he wishes there were more signs of life accompanying him.

He pretends not to mind that much, though, and flicks off the last light, leaving him in a dusky dark blue shade, the moon illuminating his room.

• • •

Zane doesn't like to drive the ship back home every time. Neither does he like to spend nights alone, cleaning and coming the monastery by himself.

He also doesn't really like how much medical information he has saved, or how Lloyd barely recoils at what normal people would think very painful.

He doesn't like it a lot, but he does like helping his family.

And if learning how to sew up a deep wound or cleaning up back home by himself is assisting his friends, then he'll do them as many times he needs.

[hxnmantii]

Class 1-A and their car habits

tw: crack/fluff, cursing

People: Bakugo, Shoto, Izuku, Sero, Kiri, iida, Mina x mostly gn!reader (Mina is the only one that’s implied female!reader)

Ratings: PG

A/n: yuuhh get into💋 I personally would like to ride with Shoto. I just wanna hold his hand👉🏾👈🏾 but not on no simp shit. Originally, this was going to be just boys but who would I be if my gay self didn’t add the queen herself? Anyways, Who would you like to ride with?

Bakugo~

Bakugo does that sexy ass thing where he drives with one hand on the wheel and one hand on your thigh and when you don’t pay him enough attention he’ll lightly squeeze your thigh. This man does NOT share the aux....his stingy ass. He says he doesn’t wanna listen “to your trash music” but will play bxmb threat and NBA Youngboy at full capacity with the windows down. If you beg enough maybe he’ll play 1 Nicki song. But he will throw a fit and act like he doesn’t like Nicki even though he knows all of the lyrics. Altough he’s really uptight about his car, he enjoys driving and picking up the Bakusquad in it because he likes to feel useful and needed. No doubt about it, this man has road rage. He’s screaming outside the window and in the car about how someone cut him off and when someone screams back him, he’s like “Pull over right now cuz those sound like fighting words to me.” Now y��all in the back of a cop car and 30 minutes late to your dinner date. You are not, I repeat, you are NOT allowed to even think about eating in his car unless he’s got that plastic wrapping on his car. He treats his car so good (at some point you think he likes the care better than you) her name is Bethany. I-

Shoto~

Shoto has one hand on the wheel and one hand in your hand, stroking your hand from time to time and kissing the back of it. He had a sleek gray sliver car with a sunroom (he never actually uses) that goes fast and he likes going real fast because what they gon do, give him a ticket??? When his dad the number one hero??? Try again. He’s also the type to flick off the cops as he driving by because ACAB. He’s always wearing a gold Rolex and you got your nails done so when you hold his, the acrylics compliment his hand and watch.(like the pictures from Pinterest) You guys ride in comfortable silence. It’s so calming riding with him because although you’re slightly anxious with how fast he’s going, you’re at somewhat ease because he’s doing it so smoothly and you trust him. His windows are tinted because once again he’s the son of a pro hero and people are nosy, neither you or him like that. Although you don’t really need the assistance with Shoto being a living AC and heater in one, his seats have buttons for each seat and you can warm your bum. His car had the clean car smell...it just smells really clean. He’s got a bunch of condiments and napkins in his glove department. He doesn’t know where they came from. His whole vibe in his car is rich and elegant. He gets his car professional wash every Tuesday and you are required to come.

Kirishima

Kiri’s got a big ass red GMC truck and he gave the truck these monster wheels so it’s a force to be reckoned with. Her name is Sophie and like Bakugo, he loves her dearly but makes it clear to you that he’s love you more than her. He does the sexy ass thing where he’s got one hand on the wheel and one hand tightly holding on to your head rest so his arms flexing and he’s backing up with a concentrated look. that is so hot to me. He’s got a sticker on the back that says “honk if you’re manly” . He definitely would let you take the aux because you guys made a playlist of songs you chose together. He would be the type to start dancing when a good song came on, almost hitting someone in the process because he took both hands off the steering wheel out of excitement. He’s got road rage but not enough to actually start shouting or flicking someone off. In the trunk of Kirishima’s car, he’s got at least 5 different protein bottles as well a case of water and some jump rope. He says “You never know when I’ll need it to work out” but he has his personal gym?? Anyways, he has a specific section in his closet for red button ups because he likes to match Sophie when he drives her😭 I hate to say it but Kiri looks like a hill billy especially since he’s got those shoulder cut out button ups. He’s cute with it and he’s happy so you somewhat tolerate it

Midoriya

Izuku has more of a family car like a soccer mom car or a dark green Ford explore because he likes to pick everybody up to hang out and he needs space since he’s got a lot of them. Not to mention, he also likes to cruise and enjoy his time with you no matter where y’all go because we all know this man is a simppp. At every stop light, he’s gently grabbing your face and either kissing you on your cheek or forehead. He tried giving you a kiss on the lips once but he got so caught on the feeling that he ended up holding up the line and everybody was honking and made at him. He was so embarrassed that he now waits til you guys get to your destination to do all that extraness. Being the big fan he is, naturally he has some All might themed seatbelts and has all might stickers all over his steering wheel. He also has little all Might figurine on his dashboard that he prays to get him out of car trouble. Genuinely think it’s works too. Izuku in his trunk has a bunch of workout gear and gaze cuz he’s sexy like that. He does not have road rage at all....maybe a little. He might flick someone off but that’s as far as it goes. He definitely gives you the aux because he loves watching how lively you get it. (Y/n) “Do you know your Megan baby?”🥰 (ZuZu) “Y-yes?”

Iida

Now hear me out...Iida has a motorcycle. He’s got a need for speed that cars can’t really fufill because you can’t weave through other cars like a motorcycle can. His motorcycle has the highest tech on it naturally. It’s all black but has lights underneath it so he can change it by phone and ofc it’s always blue. You guys also have matching helmets that are Bluetooth so you’re able to talk to one another without having to yell very much. When you guise stop, he rubbing your arms to make sure that you’re okay and/if you need to pull over. Now when he’s not riding the motorcycle he’s got a Tesla. He preaches about the law and following the rules but when he get in the car, that’s a different story. With him you better either hold on tight to him or you better get double seat belt buckles for extra protection because he’s about to try and race the flash. (And you thought Shoto was bad) You get out thanking the universe for letting you touch ground again. Iida got the type of car that if you even breathe incorrectly around it, it’s going off and waking up the whole damn neighborhood. When iida first got his car, he read everything up on it so he would be fully able to use the car to its full potiential meaning that he’s got Siri set up, he can lock the door from his car, and watch the cameras on his house through the screen of his car. The Bluetooth is automatically connected to his phone so no you will not be getting the aux but you can play some tunes form his phone. He’ll even make you a playlist on Apple Music with his rich self.

Sero

Sero’s got a red convertible with tan seats and the weather allows it, his top is always down. His car always smells so good because he uses the wild cherry air freshener in his car. He blasts bad bunny and daddy Yankee as y’all are cruising slightly over the speed light. He also likes blasting Ski Mask. He’s the type to sing you the words while gently holding your face and singing to you with a lovey dovey smile on his face. He’s very respectful and turns down his music when entering neighborhoods because he doesn’t wanna mess with the vibes. You two have matching glasses that says queen/ king on yours and king on his. He definitely has some throw dice hanging from his mirror along with a picture of you and him taped to his dashboard cuz he’s also a simp. He’s always has a packet of Extra gum in his middle console along with warm water bottles. If police pulls him over, he definitely the type to start flirting with him so the officer just to make him uncomfortable enough to let him off with a warning. For a fact, he has the Puerto Rican flag on the antenna of his car. He has Led lights and likes them to be colorful rather than on one color. Sero definitely jogs around the front to open the door for you because he’s a jester and a gentleman in one. His part of his car is that the top can go down solely for the fact that the sun always highlights your skins so well.

Mina

Do I even need to say anything about the Pink queen herself?? She has a cute pink steering wheel case with matching pink seats and ofc she has a bedazzled stick shift. She has a Jeep. She the type of person to has matching glasses with her interior and when you get in the car, she’s putting her music on shuffle: a dangerous move because you go from Brent Faiyaz to Jhene Aiki to fucking Cardi B, Flo Mili, and etc. When you unbuckle your seat to start twerking in the seat, she’s automatically going to start hyping you up. She’s got one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on your ass smacking it as you fuck it up in the passenger seat. Y’all are literally swerving from side to side and let’s be honest here, Mina is not that good of a driver so you have almost gotten in an accident multiple times. She’s the type to pull over to take cute selfies or videos with you and post them all at once captioning it with “Late nights w/bae”. Underneath seat she an emergency packet filled with makeup, clothes, hair and first aid kit supplies. Although she’s not the best driver, she takes the rules really serious because she would hate to have an accident with you in the car. Like Sero, She has led lights in her car but they only flash pink. Mina is the queen of putting falsies on so she would mostly definitely put yours on (without tweezers) once you park as well as do your edges if you ask. She just has that talent. *chefs kiss* amazing

Reblogs are appreciated!

A/n: I’m lyin I definitely would be riding with Bakugo because I have major passenger rod rage lol and you definitely don’t wanna get your ass beat TWICE

[trashcanfills]

Hero Killer Stain | Akaguro Chizome Relationship Headcanons

Yes I’m here to deliver.

The kind of person to only have very few friends. This guy ain’t the socialising type. I mean look at him he practically oozes lone wolf vibes. Not a people person for sure. He’s definitely socially awkward as fuck though thanks to his poker face that part of him isn’t obvious.

If you do manage to be friends with him though, oh boi where do I even begin?

He is an independent guy so expect like long ass periods of non-contact. He would occasionally check in on you to make sure that you are alive and doing well, sometimes with a text saying hes coming over. If you are lucky he might hang around for a while but apart from that he’s not gon do much (totally not because he’s socially awkward cough cough).

Really thoughtful as hecc. He’s not such an asshole to make any demands for you and your time. With how disillusioned he is with the current state of society, he’s going to cherish all the shit you have done for him, especially when you are one of the only ones who stayed with him despite the bloody path he has chosen.

Mention offhandedly about needing or wanting something? So long as he can afford it, it’s definitely going to appear on your table the next day without a trace of him left in your house. The kind to help around the house when he possibly can. Even if you try to deny his aid he’s not gonna budge at all cus he is one stubborn ass motherfucker. After some time you just give up and let him do what he wants. Though it is kinda funny to see the Hero Killer doing domestic stuff around your house.

However he can be a bit of an insensitive jerk at times. He judges a bit too hastily and makes wrongful assumptions. He also tends to believe that the fault lies within the person themselves whenever theres a problem, and will point it out if you asked for it.

This can result in arguments when you make mistakes or anything cus he will unintentionally make a comment that directly attacks you and your character. I can see that eventually you would reach a breaking point where you cry and/or scream at him about these hurtful comments. Yelling would of course devolve into an argument until you explain your feelings and situation to him such that he understands. Crying would just really hit in the realisation on how shitty his actions were and he would rectify that immediately by comforting you.

Hangouts typically consist of you guys sitting there in silence doing your own thing or watching a movie, or both of you engaging in philosophical discussion about today’s society. Yes because this is Stain we are talking about, expect the topic of False Heroes to come about. Once that happens, you would end up listening through his entire rant on False Heroes and their Unworthiness for the Hero title.

You definitely have engaged in debates with him on dealing with false heroes. He would be respectful of your views so long as they are well supported AND well-rounded arguments. Being one-sided esp towards the heroes would make him dismiss your views since it’s the same opinions adopted by the masses. Acknowledging and accepting that his views and ideals are valid would be a big deal for him, even if you disagree.

Sadly I’m not really sure if it would change much on his hero killing ways. To him, it’s the only solution he feels he could implement to best deal with false heroes, and it’s a necessary evil. Plus, he’s more of the take action guy. He can’t really just sit around, wait and think on what to do when there’s so much at stake. I find that it would be good for him to have a partner to hold him back and properly think through some stuff because of this, if he were to get into a romantic relationship. And speaking of that…

If you are in a romantic relationship with him, it’s just the above friendship qualities multiplied by 10 plus the couple things.

He WILL be a mother hen for his s/o. Regarding his friends, he tends to trust their ability to take care of themselves, only stepping in when needed to. Regarding his partner? He takes responsibility for their wellbeing. If their condition is less than perfect, he’s going to do something about it.

Accidentally cut yourself? He’s already grabbing the first aid kit. Sees you aren’t getting enough sleep? Prepared to be whooshed away and dumped on your bed. Stressed and anxious? He asks you to confide in him about your worries, and if you can’t, at least tell him how he can make you feel better.

God forbid someone lay a hand on you intending harm cus if Stain knows about it, he will straight up gut them. He will interrogate you if he sees an injury on you that’s unlikely to be an accident. He’s not going to budge until you tell him who did it to you, and even if you don’t, he WILL find out on his own. He might end up hurting someone innocent so it’s best if you tell him who did it to save him the trouble. And if they mysteriously disappear from your life, that’s only for the two of you to know :^)

He’s definitely not used to physical affection being the loner he is, so if you initiate and like give him a hug or a kiss he will get flustered and blue screen for a short while. He would also be tense when cuddling for the first few times, then relaxing a little bit afterwards. Uh don’t surprise tackle him out of nowhere unless you want to get slashed or chucked at a wall. As much as he loves to indulge in your affections, he still needs to keep his instincts honed for fighting. You never know when someone might decide to attack the both of you. (You tried to surprise hug him once. It ended up with you getting injured and him attending to your injuries while lecturing you a little about doing that AROUND A SERIAL KILLER WHO KILL HEROES for a LIVING)

But otherwise he doesn’t mind physical affection. He would grow to love it, and would gradually take initiative to touch you at any opportunity if you tell him you are open to it. This does become funny with his brilliant poker face, when you guys are doing your own thing and all of sudden he gets close to you to hug, smooch or cuddle. He gives absolutely no warning whatsoever. It never gets old. Your reactions to him doing this amuses him a lot.

Expect occasional heartfelt speeches on how much he loves you or how much you mean to him. Might not realise this himself but gOd he can be a sMOOTH motherfucker. He is good with words, and gENUINE about what he says about. He will pull off the how I saw the world as a dark ugly place until you came along speech shtick and there will be this Moment of you guys beholding each others presence. THATS how good he is. (I mean you heard him monologing while fighting Izuku, Tenya and Shouto like daamn)

He’s a very practical person and isn’t one to be sentimental. He can’t afford to be sentimental if it can jeopardise him and his loved ones in any way. He’s adamant on not keeping anything of his around in your house cus he doesn’t want you implicated or associated with his murders at all.

Somehow, if you both are really really deep into the relationship, I can see him letting both of you carrying rings from each other. Not worn around the ring finger of course cus that can attract unwanted attention, but rather it being attached to a chain necklace that both of you would have at all times.

It’s kind of a promise and dedication to you, in the sense that, if he could or if he had the chance to, he would have formally proposed to you. He hopes that he can if somehow he fulfils his personal mission, and if both of you can find somewhere peaceful and safe together.

Edit: Realised I forgot to add some stuff in lol, so dont mind that I add more points to this already long ass post. Im on mobile so apologies if formatting is weird.

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time - part 2

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader

warning: none that I can think of

word count: 2,700-ish

a/n: just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to comment, reblog or like the first part 💕 your support truly means a lot to me. everyone who has asked to be tagged or requested a second part has been @-ed below.

previous part

"Who are you talking to?”

The question came seemingly out of nowhere, making you jump so hard you almost dropped the phone in your hand.

“Jesus, woman!” you swore, putting your free hand over your rapidly beating heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Natasha was fresh out of the shower, her wet hair twisted in a towel. The redhead was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and some sweatpants that you had found somewhere deep inside your closet. She looked adorable, you had to admit, like a kid wearing their parent's clothes. The sight strangely made your stomach flip.

“Force of habit, I'm afraid,” she smiled apologetically, carefully sitting down on the couch. Her face was finally clean, no more mud, blood, or grime sticking to her features. Except for the blue-ish bruise on her left cheekbone, and a small cut near her eyebrow, her skin was unfairly flawless.

“So, are you gonna answer my question?”, she plopped her feet up on your coffee table, shaking you out of your thoughts. With a shrug, you pocketed your phone, hoping she hadn’t noticed your staring.

“Just work. Called in sick until Tuesday. After all, I can’t let you roam around my apartment unsupervised. For one, you’re injured, for another, you’re still a stranger.”

On your way to the couch, you picked up the first aid kit from your kitchen counter.

“A stranger?” she repeated with mock hurt, putting a hand over her heart, “ You wound me. After everything we’ve been through, I really thought we were getting closer.”

Shaking your heart amusedly, you sat down next to her. Balancing the first aid kit on your thigh, you pulled on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap. You could feel her gaze on you, watching your every move. Nervously, you cleared your throat, a little uncomfortable with her attention.

“Let’s have a look,” you nod to her and she complied with your unspoken request, pulling the hoodie up just enough for you to access her injury. Gingerly, you removed the bandage, dumping it into the trash can and inspecting the stitched wound, quietly humming in concentration as you did.

“I think you strained it a bit with your morning escapades today but I don’t think you pulled any of the stitches,” you concluded after a moment. Your voice sounded more sure than you actually felt about your assessment, considering all your expertise came from the internet. But, apparently, your word was good enough for your patient.

“See, I told you. You worried for nothing,” she slapped your shoulder jestingly and you rolled your eyes, taking out a new bandage to re-wrap the wound.

“I wouldn’t say for nothing. After all, you have been stabbed and only received medical attention from an amateur,” you pointed out, giving her a chastising look when she tried to dismiss your troubles with a languid hand motion.

“I think you should be concerned by the fact that I seem to be more worried about your health than you are," you continued, undeterred, "How's the pain, by the way?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, waving away your concerns, “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I'll be fine”, Natasha insisted with emphasis, “Besides, I don’t like taking painkillers. Dulls the senses.”

If you weren’t as tired as you were, you might have argued a little more. Instead, all you did was sigh and give a curt nod to signal your understanding. You didn’t really get her at all. If she was just going to hang around your apartment for the next couple of days, then who cares if her senses are dulled? It wasn't like anyone knew she would be here.

You finished wrapping her wound, leaning back to observe it from afar. You were admittedly getting better at bandaging. So that was a plus point.

“Alright, that’s it,” you nodded pleased, starting to clean up. Natasha inspected your work as well, pulling her hoodie back down once she was satisfied.

“You’re surprisingly good. Have you ever done this before?”

Chuckling, you shook your head, closing the little dark green box on your lap.

“You mean have I ever stitched someone together before and let them take refuge in my home? No. Can’t say I have.”

She smiled at your sarcastic tone, rolling her eyes playfully, before smirking mischievously.

“Ah, I'm your first. I'm honoured.”

You flushed at the implication of her statement, trying to hide your embarrassment by fiddling with the first aid kit. Don’t overthink it. You do not want these kinds of thoughts right now. Not about her. Sure, she is beautiful and it is kind of fun to banter with her and she has probably the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen and her lips…

“So, what’s your verdict doc?” she nudged you back to reality, amusement in her voice. You cleared your throat, shaking your head to clear your previous thoughts away.

“You need rest. Lots of it. No putting unnecessary strain on your injury,” you explained distractedly, pulling the gloves from your hands and letting them drop into the trash can, “So, I forbid you from leaving the couch for anything other than using the bathroom. Like I said before, if you need something, ask me.”

“You forbid me? My, my, how bossy of you. Then again, your home, your rules.”

“I just don’t want you to make anything worse,” you replied earnestly, ignoring her teasing tone.

Natasha grinned, eyes sparkling, leaning dangerously close to you.

“It's cute how concerned you are,” she almost whispered, her breath ghosting over your face. You felt your heart speed up.

“Don’t tell me you care about this lil old stranger here.”

Needing to remove yourself from this situation, you practically jumped off the couch, trying to play your reaction off with an annoyed eye-roll and a huff.

“Don’t be so full of yourself. I just don’t want you to start bleeding again. Might end up ruining my carpet,” you explained, the words leaving your mouth so quickly, it was a wonder you didn’t stumble over them. You resolved to change the topic entirely.

“Want anything to eat? Drink?”

Without sparing a second, you walked over to the kitchen, idly opening the fridge and looking through it just to keep your mind busy and eyes away from her. The frigid air definitely helped cool down your heated face as well. So that was a nice side effect.

“Vodka on the rocks would be nice,” she quipped. You shook your head, well-aware that she couldn’t see you, hidden away behind the fridge door. Apparently, your silence was answer enough though, because only a few seconds later, she let out a concessive sigh.

“Fine. Water will do.”

Preparing her a glass, you carried it over to the living room area, nudging her foot with your leg to get her to take them off your coffee table. She complied begrudgingly, accepting the glass and draining most of it in one gulp. It was only when you noticed a single droplet running down her chin that you realized you were staring. Again. Very obviously. Immediately you averted your gaze, opting to eyeball the wall in the far distance.

“So, what are you gonna do today? Anything planned?”

What a terrible question.

“Not really,” you saw her shrug out of the corner of your eye, “But I do need to use your radio again. Would you mind grabbing it for me?”

“Uh, sure.”

You spotted the device on the tv cabinet. Handing it over, you made certain that it was plugged in for her, watching the red digits on the small display light up. For a moment you remained in place, observing her as she fumble with it, her forehead creased in concentration. Feeling awkward just standing around, you approached, anxiously rubbing at the back of your neck in search for something to say.

“Can I ask, what exactly is it that you do with it?”

She seemed to mull your question over, before patting the couch cushion next to her.

“Sit. I’ll show you.”

You do, making sure to keep a decent amount of distance between you while still being able to see what she was doing. Natasha showed you how to switch to a shortwave radio station and how to input messages to be transmitted. The static sound filled your apartment again, changing to a couple of high-pitched sounds once in a while when she enters a new code. It was fascinating, something that seemed entirely taken out of an old spy movie.

“So, you’re sending encoded messages to someone?” you summarised her explanation, intrigued, “Do you use morse code for the encryption?”

“Morse code. That’s cute,” Natasha let out a short laugh, shaking her head in amusement. The towel her hair was wrapped somehow stayed in place. She looked up at you with a cocky smile, her eyes meeting yours and taking your breath away for a moment.

“If I wanted all the other agencies in the world to know my location, then yes, I'd use morse code. No, this is my very own code. Only a handful of people know it.”

“Impressive. So this means you’re a spy, right?”, you asked as she continued working on her transmission, “Because this is textbook spy behaviour.”

Natasha didn’t reply. Not that you had expected her to. Yep, definitely a spy. That would also explain her injury and need to lay low for a few days.

“So, do all secret spies have their own encryption codes, or are you just special?”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I’m very special,” she quipped seriously, not looking up from her task, “Once I'm recovered, I’ll gladly show you my special set of skills up close.”

You blinked, perplexed, cocking your head to the side.

“I’m not sure whether you’re trying to threaten or flirt with me,” you remarked, a frown settling on your face. The redhead turned the radio off, putting it down next to her and looking up at you with a big grin.

“And isn’t that just part of the fun?”

--------

Natasha, it turned out, had quite the talent for coming up with pick-up lines that could double as thinly veiled threats. You did your best not to show how flustered she made you, either changing the subject, feigning ignorance, or trying to come across as exasperated or annoyed instead. To be honest, you did rather enjoy her flirtatious remarks. After all, it wasn’t every day that such a beautiful and quick-witted woman hit on you, even if it was just in jest. She also had something rather mysterious about her that intrigued you. It was probably a spy thing.

She, in turn, seemed to grow more comfortable around you as time passed. Daring to express her emotions more openly without always relying on sarcasm or flirtation. The memory of making her laugh out loud for the first time - a real laugh that had her throwing her head back and crinkling her eyes - was practically ingrained into your mind. Even now, just thinking about it, brought a fond smile to your face and made your heart flutter.

You weren’t stupid. At least you liked to think you weren’t. No, you were fully aware of the fact that you were developing feelings for the secretive redhead. And you knew that it was a terrible idea, that you should fight it. After all, she would be leaving soon and you weren't likely to see her again. But resisting her charms was a lot harder than you had anticipated. Especially, when you had to share your small apartment.

So, instead, you decided to treasure whatever short time you did have with her. You cooked her your favourite dish, blushing when she complimented your skills in the kitchen. The two of you watched several movies huddled together on your couch. You had seen them all before but enjoyed watching her point out all the unrealistic plot points and inconsistencies, only to end up grinning like an idiot at the cheesy happy ending. You also came up with several bad and dorky jokes just to hear her laugh out loud again. It felt nice. Almost domestic and natural.

But in the end, Tuesday came sooner than you had hoped. All night long, you had laid tossing and turning in your bed, dreading what would happen.

The sun was not yet out when you heard the now-familiar sound of radio static coming from your living room. Suddenly very awake, you practically shot out of your bed and hurried out the door.

Natasha was already dressed to leave, hair pulled back into a braid. A few locks had escaped and framed her lovely face. She looked up when she heard you enter, putting the radio aside.

“Morning,” she greeted with a small smile, “You’re up uncharacteristically early. Did I wake you up?"

“It’s fine. Didn't sleep well anyways,” you assured her, brushing a hand through your hair. A moment of silence.

“So. It’s Tuesday, huh?”

“Observant as always. My colleague will be picking me up shortly if that is what you’re asking.”

Dread filled you. While you knew this moment was coming, you suddenly found yourself wholly unprepared for it.

“Then the air is clear again, right? Successfully laid low?”, you asked, fumbling with your hands as you rambled on, “That’s good. Great.”

The redhead quirked an eyebrow at you, shouldering a small duffel bag as she approached you.

“It is indeed great. Means I won’t be targeted the moment I step outside your door,” she commented casually. As if possibly being assassinated wasn’t a big deal.

“Right. Good,” you nodded in agreement, unsure what else to say to that. She stopped directly in front of you, regarding you curiously. Your pulse spiked.

“Need me to check out your wound again? One final examination before you’re dismissed from the hospital?” you offered. Natasha shook her head.

“I’m fine. You did a great job, doc,” she flashed you a big smile, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me these past few days.”

Face growing warm, you make a throw-away motion with your arm.

“No need to thank me. I really enjoyed spending time with you,” you tell her genuinely, meeting her green gaze. Her expression softened. she took another step closer. Your breath hitched at her close proximity.

“Me, too. But I’d still like to express my deep gratitude."

Something mischievous flashed in her eyes. Before you could ask her what she meant, she had already cupped your face and pulled your face to hers.

The moment your lips met, every other thought you had vanished from your mind. Electricity shot through your veins, your skin tingled where she touched you. After a moment you caught yourself and returned the kiss, pressing back against her, your hands carefully settling on her waist.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. Breathing, thinking, everything appeared rather trivial in comparison to this feeling of her lips on yours. It wasn't until a loud knock sounded on the door, that you broke apart. You were both breathing hard. Your eyes met and the smile she gave you had to be the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

“My colleague’s here", she whispered, somehow breaking through the fog in your mind. Right. She was about to leave. You swallow against the lump that formed in your throat. Still unable to find words, you just nod, taking a small step back. You tried to keep the sadness off your face and most likely failed miserably.

To your surprise, she laughed, shaking her head.

“Don’t look so glum. This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“It doesn’t?” you asked hopefully. Natasha gave you a look full of adoration, pulling a small slip of paper from her pocket.

“I'll probably be busy for a few days, but I have nothing planned next week,” she pressed the paper into your palm. Unfolding it, you saw a phone number scribbled on it in blue ink. A big grin overtook your face as she continued.

“I'm sure we can work something out. I'd love to take you out.”

You meet her eyes, butterflies going wild in your stomach.

“Take me out as in on a date, or…?” you asked jokingly.

Wordlessly, she pressed a small kiss to your cheek.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

___________________________________________

taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @fishlikestuff @madamevirgo @chickenhavewisdom

[the-brohood-of-hotties]

Forget me not

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman REBORN! Pairing: Hibari x Reader   Wordcount:  2,210

Summary: Hibari is a weird man, famous for his rather aggressive aura. After he moves into your neighborhood, an oasis inside a big neon town, Hibari Kyouya brings with him the weirdest situations into your life, as he makes a startling entrance with an accident with his "co-worker", Yamamoto Takeshi.

This is an entry for #khrevents April Angst 2021/ Day 8/ Yearning, Longing/ Reincarnation AU/ "I don't want to forget you."

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30658199

The glass door from your coffee shop and gardening club swings open, you don’t really care to see who’s there because it’s almost the end of your shift and you’re really entertained with social media, though you did greet the person entering. “ Good evening. Welcome to the Daily Lily.”

“Good evening, I’m afraid we’ll have to check out your storage.”

“Are you the police?”

“...No.”  The voice seemed hesitant, you notice.

“Then I can’t help with that, we have a promotion on cheesecake today though.”  You smile and finally look up, afraid it might be a man trying to mess up with you. Well, it was two men, in fact. You’ve heard the rumors around the neighborhood, that Hibari Kyouya was a man with a weird aura that just moved in alone with some exotic pets, while he seemed delicate and handsome, he just had this introverted, aggressive aura and you’d never expect him to show up in your small business as the companion of another guy. Tall, tan skin, dark hair, buff, a scar on his chin in contrast with a bright gentle smile. He seemed to carry a baseball bat in his back, which made the combination of sports and their suits really off, they both seem to be either Japanese or Korean.

While Hibari, the  grumpy one, seemed to not be so happy about being with the other guy. Like a puppy and an old cat. "We don’t wanna bother you, but-..." The baseball guy was cut off by a loud noise coming from the back of the store. Normally you would be worried that your co-worker got hurt or something, but today? You’ve been alone for the second half of your shift. It’s not supposed to be noisy there, you’re frozen in the spot.

Hibari immediately bursts into the staff-only area of your shop, and before you can protest, the other guy gently grabs your shoulder. “Everything will be fine, we’ll take care of this situation. I just need you to hide in the restroom.’’

“Excuse me?!” No time for excuses, you heard someone grunting and the loud noises start getting too repetitive. Your phone was given in your hands and you basically got pushed into the room by the taller guy. “Sorry, huuh I really need to go there… ” He said as the door slammed on your face. The restroom was cozy enough, you had it decorated as you wanted, and you were firmly holding your phone in case you needed to call someone...But then, who would you be calling? The police would probably make things worse, especially because they seemed to be armed, or worse, maybe these guys are the police in disguise. You fidget your fingers along the cold black surface as a way to calm down a little, it seemed pointless. The noise was too loud to just put on earbuds and ignore them, but you realize: And if this is all a scheme? Rushing to peek at the door, as your eyes meet the pastel walls of the store, you realize it seems like no one’s here at all. Until you hear the cranky storage door opening, and as soon as you see the Baseball guy again, you close the door. Don’t want him thinking you’ve been spying on whatever happened in the storage, with your heart racing, you hear a gentle knock on the wooden door, accompanied by his voice. “Everything is fine! You can come out. I’m sorry I didn’t say my name before, I’m Yamamoto Takeshi and my company here is Hibari Kyouya.”

Decide to close the shop soon as you could for the day,  you come out of the restroom, greeted by the two men.

“I am not your partner, Yamamoto Takeshi.”  He mutters, Hibari looks completely clean, you could still mistake him with a businessman. While Takeshi seems to have bruised his hand a little. You offer him your first-aid kit which he accepts, then you close the curtains so there’s no curiosity about that’s going on inside. “So, what happened in my storage?”  You cross your arms, with a cotton stained with blood between your fingers, slightly annoyed by the whole situation. Making mental notes of what to tell your therapist later, then going back to cleaning the dry blood on Yamamoto's calloused hand.

“Two burglars, they were armed but easy to deal with.” Hibari finally says something directed to you, maybe it’s the first time he bothered to look in your eyes. Not that you’re annoyed by that, perhaps he’s just introverted. But at the same time, now that he looked at your face, it's like something inside him got frozen, awkward. It's such a weird feeling, especially since he doesn't really show it off, you just can tell. “Are you guys police officers?”  You change the subject, brushing it off your mind, Hibari looks away, you can’t tell if he’s offended by being compared to a cop or something else. “Not at all! We just know how to handle them. We’ll send you a check to compensate for the damage and the working time you spent in the restroom as well.” Yamamoto finished his bandage and happily hands you paper and pen. “Just write down your shop’s address and info and the check will arrive in 3 to 5 days.”

You couldn’t really believe in such kindness, or at least knowing how to deal with the consequences of their vigilante work but since they already know the shop you write it down anyway. “ Are you all putting me in some pyramid scheme? You two seem like stage actors.”  They do look like handsome actors, you think.

“We aren’t.” Hibari actually pulls out an unused bullet from his pocket to show  they’re not lying, effective but scary. He just turns away and keeps browsing the plants you got for sale, examining the quality of an English Ivy’s vine. “Don’t scare them, c’mon. Isn’t this shop your neighbor now?”  Yamamoto jokes around, Hibari sends him a deadly look and you decide you won’t touch the neighbor subject ever again.

“If you two excuse me, I have to close the shop and go home. It’s getting late and I don't plan to work more today.” You operate the register and turn off your computer for the day, swinging the keys in your index finger. Anxious to get home to your cat and a nice hot bath to relax. “Thank you again for your kindness, next time you visit the shop anything from the coffee and plants is on me. But don't do crazy stuff again.” You smile as everyone leaves the inside area with you. “By the way, who’s going to take these two burglars out? Did you guys called the police?”

“Kusakabe already took them, before you got out of the restroom.” Hibari says in a beat, interrupting Yamamoto before he could say something else. “Who’s that?”  You raise an eyebrow, the Baseball guy blurts out, dismissing any curiosity you might have. “He’s a friend of ours who’s actually a cop!” That’s weird, you didn’t even see a vehicle, and usually, when cops stopped around they were always noisy and had the blue and red lights on. Off-duty cops, detectives, spies, what are these people doing around? Your curiosity around these two can only grow. It’s not like your hometown has anything important in the first place. Anyway, you say your goodbyes and already invited them to come once more. Perhaps it will be good to have these two around, at least against burglars.

Hibari turns to Yamamoto as soon as you disappeared in a street corner, with earbuds on, bursting your playlist for a nice walk and everything “That’s why we shouldn’t operate with any civilians nearby, we might be compromised now.”.

“It wasn’t that bad, I think they got to sympathize with us, it’ll be just a weird day on their life.”  Takeshi stretches his arms, it’s quite complicated to deal with you and Hibari all at once. “But, still if we didn’t interfere these guys might take them hostage, steal the shop, or whatever their intentions were. We’re lucky you saw they had guns when passing by the street.”

“I am sure Kusakabe will find out their true intentions, but meanwhile we cannot afford to bring attention to us. No more.” Hibari walked down the street, ready to get to his new apartment. “And, Yamamoto.”

“What?”

“If you get back here in the shop, don’t do anything weak and stupid.” A threat, how much that suits him, it must be a serious matter, no wonder the Foundation decided to settle in that small town for a while. Once Hibari got home, greeted by Hibird’s singing, he lets out a long sigh. What happened today? Two Mafia men going out for a civilian’s small business as if it’s a serious matter for them. But especially, the Cloud Guardian feels like he just knows you from somewhere. Your voice and eyes seem oddly familiar, but if he was to put this feeling into words it’ would simply smell like bullshit. Herbivore bullshit. He takes a long shower, and gets to bed to read something before sleeping, but can’t concentrate on his book. It can’t be, he even loses sleep and feels exhausted, only falling asleep when his body couldn’t take it anymore.

He wakes up in a bad mood, feeds Hibird and Roll, and opens his fridge: nothing, just a bottle of water. Well, he has to remind Kusakabe to do his groceries, but for now, he’ll be ok with going to your shop for breakfast. He gets changed from his kimono to casual clothing, it’s 07:00 AM when he walks down the block and notices no one’s inside the shop beside you, as he opened the door a ring is heard, you turn your head to see who’s there, the shop seems clean and decorated with paper and fairy lights hanging on the wall, plus with the plants of all sorts, making the place lively, with soft lo-fi music in the background. “Hey, good morning Sir.” He murmurs a response and orders blueberry pancakes with a black coffee on the balcony. “Thanks for coming after yesterday, I came here earlier to clean but your partner Kusakabe was waiting at the door to help me out.”

“Good.”  As you manage the register, he notices you have cupcakes with colorful glaze and cutesy decor right beside you, and a poster that he can’t read from that distance. You see he’s staring at something and offers him one of the cupcakes. “Today I’m throwing a small event here, the shop will celebrate 2 years of business, come by if you want to.”

“I’m not letting you give me everything in the shop for free.”  He rejects and suits himself a table nearby the window. “I don’t like parties, or crowded places so I’ll stop by tomorrow.” This hurts your ego a little bit, but it would probably be embarrasing to have a stranger around, he’s quiet most of the time. You wonder if Yamamoto is more of a party person, then, your thoughts drift to the question: Is Yamamoto Takeshi single? He doesn’t have a wedding ring, and neither does Hibari. 

 You shake your head before you could turn red in front of him. “Well, I’ll save you a piece of cake my parents made then.”  You say, as you get  prepared to do everything for today’s menu ready.

“You don’t have to.”  Ouch. You decide to not offer him more things, but this behaviour makes you wonder if he has a jealous partner.

Usually you let everything sort-of-ready so you just need to heat them in the oven on the back of the balcony. Cooking is time-consuming, but at least it’s pretty lucrative. “I think I’ll take around 30 minutes since you’re an early bird. You can use a laptop to work or shop for flowers if you like stuff like gardening.”  You turn your head to talk to him, but to your surprise, he’s already looking at some pots and examining some other gardening products you have around, you didn't expect him to be this kind of person, gardening takes nurturing, care, and a lot of attention towards a living being who doesn't even communicate like animals. He does like gardening apparently, you expected him to pull off a MacBook and have an online meeting over his meal or something, maybe doing finances of whatever organization he's probably the leader at, at least that's what his expensive suit tells. When you get to serve his plate, the spare chair has a basket full of gardening materials, seeds for fruits and veggies, some pots, a small rake, and a trowel.

As the clients come in and you get busier, he didn’t want to be a burden, so he just sat there and tried to enjoy his breakfast, even though the place was a little more crowded than he would like to. But still, Hibari can manage that for a bit, and then he realizes how the situation just got weirder to him, how come he’s doing that for you? And why did you felt so familiar? Spending most of his life there, just occasionally traveling he never noticed a person that matched that specific scene in his head. Is this some Herbivore bullshit? Maybe. Hibari is still pondering over this subject but as long as no one from the Foundation or Vongola finds out, he just found out a place with good pancakes, open from Monday to Saturday, how convenient. The whole saved your business and life thing or the fact that you’re attractive is just a small detail.  When he’s done, Hibari gets up from his table and your co-worker comes to clean his spot. He takes his basket to the balcony for payment, but not before adding a purple flower to his shop list. When he gets to pass all the products, which usually the clients would take one or two plants, but he got around seven, letting the purple flower for last.

A small vase blooming with forget-me-nots, as you pass it on the register, you read the silly little tag you put in some pots as decoration, each has a quirky phrase or pun with the names, that one reads:

“Don’t forget about me”.

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ ℙ𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕖 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕀 ~

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: SMUT! Dom!Minho x sub!reader criminal!skz, gang!au, angst(?), criminality, mentions of scars, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, explicit language, mentions of robbery, mentions of police, mentions of cuts, alcohol consumption, mentions of fights, public sex, PIV, fingering, unsafe sex (STAY SAFE), orgasm (m/f), cum, slight bulge kink, squint to see the degradation. 

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS SINCE THIS PIECE CONTAINS VIOLENCE!

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.6 k 

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: EEEEP part 2 of purple hearts that is more of a background story to the first one so if you haven’t read the first one please do so here!~ (also jesus fucking christ did i struggle with this sooo... don’t expect much lmao)

OH if you want a song recommendation; A good song never dies - Saint Motel (fits this fic heheh...) 

A loud bang erupted through the room alerting the 7 other boys. Bangchan’s fist was firmly planted on the table as he looked at the shoked faces off the seven boys.

“We can’t go on like this anymore”

He spoke in a raspy voice, his breath quivering as the other boys avoided eye contact with both Bangchan and between themselves.

“Did you see what happened out there?!” Felix flinched at Chan’s loud shout as Changbin smirked, spinning in the office chair and staring at the ceiling. 

“It’s not that serious, Chan! Just a couple bruises tha-” Changbin started speaking but was soon cut off.

“Nonsense!” Chan growled out. “All of this because that son of a bitch won’t get a job, we included you because you were a detective. You were useful once, Minho”.

The entire room glanced over at Minho. His cheek scarred, a droplet of blood desended down from his knuckles as he swept his hair back with one hand. 

“Not my fault, you wanted me to plan the different robbing schemes so how the fuck can I work, huh? Ever though about that?” He spat on the floor as his gaze was locked with Bangchan’s. The leader getting visibly annoyed by Minho’s tone. 

“Calm down everybody” Seungmin said, carefully nudging at the curtain infront of the window and looking down at the blue and red lights that was flashing all over town. “Continue like this and we’ll all be dead meat for the police”.

Hyunjin was sitting across from Changbin, only the big white table seperating them as a lonely lightbulb hanged in the middle. 

“I agree with Chan, Minho used to help by getting access to information only the detectives had but now... well, he’s not doing much” he scratched the back of his neck while talking. 

Minho was aggrivated by his words, ready to lunge at anyone that dared to open their mouth about how he wasnt helpful after he’d been fired from his job as a detective.

“I-I’m gonna find a job, not like you fuckers sitting here and living off others pain”. He tried to defend himself but only earned a scoff from Felix.

“Please,,, don’t try to judge us when you’re in it yourself” Felix remarked snarkily, sitting on the cold stone flooring. A first aid kit was laid out infront of him as he treated a big wound on his forearm, wrapping bandage over the cut and hissing as the material stinged against the raw wound. 

“I’ll find my ways, don’t worry” he devilishly smirks, many of the boys sighing and rolling their eyes. All except one. Bangchan. His blood was boiling. Did Minho not see how the whole groups future was hanging on by a thin red thread? The red representing how much blood has been shed by these boys in order to survive in this vile world.

Silence filled the room, only the faint sound of police sirens could be heard from outside. Minho clenched his jaw, looking around at the silent boys before grabbing his coat from the wobbly coathanger and exiting the mobs headquarter, shutting the door loud enough to startle both Jeongin and Jisung. Confused glances were exchanged while Bangchan just stood at the end of the table, staring out into the dark night. 

---

The nightlife was well and alive in the big city. Music blaring, people chattering and cars humming. The neon lights were all around him as well as the vast crowds of people enjoying the night. Minho walked into a bar that was a couple of blocks away from where he and the boys had been moments earlier, robbing a jewely store and beating up the owners until puddles of blood formed around them. Most of the times it was easy but today the police were a step ahead and bad planning by Bangchan almost led to the boys in handcuffs. Luckily, all eight managed to escape, leaving the bodies and the spray painted SKZ mob logo on the old fashioned walls of the jewerly store. 

The bar reeked of alcohol as the lights were low, only a couple of silhouette visible. Unsteady bar chairs decorated the dim bar along with a wall of fancy liquor bottles and as Minho sat down he looked down at the bar table before croaking out;

“One boulevardier“ 

He licked his lips as he looked cockily at the bartender that quickly nodded, intimidated by the wound on his cheek. Minho rubbed the back of his neck whilst comtemplating his life choices. Graduated with a law degree, once being a well respected detective but what was he worth now? He was just a dirty criminal, ruining lives in order to survive. The drink was placed infront of him, a coaster on the bottom of the wide glas as the drink condensed, forming beeds of liquid on the rim. Just as he lifted the glas to his chapped lips you tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me” 

You stood behind his hunched figure and met his gaze as he turned around, drink in hand. You show your detective badge before speaking.

“y/n, y/l/n. Happened to see any commotion here tonight, sir?

He scoffs which makes you confused as you look him straight into his cold brown eyes.

“Detective? At least you got to keep your job”

Minho turns back and you stand there, wondering if he’s drunk or just refusing to cooperate.

“Sir, I asked you if you’d seen anything that could lead us to the SKZ mob? I’m pretty sure you know who they are. You know, the ones that makes the entire city shake of fear.” 

“Sure, I know of them.” He smirked with his answer.

He patted the empty bar chair next to him, signaling for you to sit which caught you off guard. You were hesitant since he didn’t look like the friendliest type but you nodded, slowly sitting down next to him. 

“Look, I might even surprise you about how much I know” he remarked, steadily raising the glas to his dry lips. 

“Is that so? How do you know so much?” you asked, geniunly interested in him and that scar on his cheek.

“Former detective” he stated simply. 

Your eyebrows jerked at his words. ‘Former detective?’ you thought, losing his job must have been hard on him judging from his scruffy appearence and by the way he waved his finger at the bartender, ordering another drink. 

“Then why did you lose your job?” Curiosity was going to be the death of you.

“Aren’t you asking too many questions, baby?”

Who was he calling baby? The two of you had met minutes ago but something in the way his voice rang through that word caused shivers to descend down your spine. 

“I’m a detective, that my job and you should know that” you replied sassily, not knowing what to do with the butterflies in your stomach upon hearing him call you baby. 

“I could help you but it comes with a cost.”

He moved his hand in a circular motion, swirling the liquor as the floating ice cubes bumped against eachother, the sound being completely masked by the distinct chattering of other guests. 

“Well,,, what do you want me to do?” You looked at him as he stared straight ahead, his silvery earring swaying as he turned his head towards you, grinning. 

“A job and you.” 

His deep brown eyes seemed to draw you in but you had to resist, you were on a patrolling shift after all. 

“I’m s-sorry,,, This is not appropriate behaviour” you say as you try to get up before being abruptly pulled back by your wrist, the purple heart on your bracelet reflecting in the minimally lit bar. 

“I know damn well that there is a promotion looming in the air” he said, not breaking eye contact with the bracelet on your arm. He was right. If he had valuable information it could change your career, make you climb higher in the ladder of success and peer down at all your co-workers that were once laughing at your lack of skills.

“H-how’d you know?” you said, flustered at his big hand that was still tightly gripping your wrist. He flashed his devilish grin before yanking you by the arm, dragging you to the bathroom. 

“W-wait,,, what are you-”

Pushing the door to the bathroom open, he slammed you against a cubical as he crashed his lips onto yours. Luckily the bathroom was empty leaving Minho without any hesitation to fuck you so hard that you’d be longing for more, fuck you so that you’d be left with no other choice but to hire him. You melted in his touch and as much as you knew how wrong this was something about his mysterious aura had you answering his kiss, pursing your lips and slipping your tongue inside of him. The kiss quickly got heated, sparks flying as his fingertips lightly nudged on the band of your jeans. Minho tilted his head, cupping your warm soft cheek with his brittle and bloody hands as you moaned into the kiss, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of getting caught at any moment. 

Minho pulled you into a cubical, your bracelet jingling from the sudden movement. Locking the door, he put his hand by the side of your head and towered over you making you feel helpless. You needed him inside of you. 

“Deal?” he leaned over to your ear, his hot breath tickled your ear and all you could do was nod as you desperatly clenched around nothing. 

You reattached your lips on his, the bitter taste of liquor spreading in your mouth as your tongues fought for dominance. Minho stroked your hair until his hand slowly moved to peel off your shirt, exposing your bra strap. His touch on your bare shoulder made you shudder and your core quivering in anticipation, feeling a wet patch on your underwear. His hand unbuttoned your pants causing you to gulp loudly, holding the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.  Without warning his cold fingertips slid down beneath your panties, grazing your sopping folds and feeling himself get painfully hard, not wanting to admit the effect you had on him. 

“Already this wet, babygirl?” 

He broke the kiss, looking at your pained expression as he inserted a finger into your dripping pussy. Your eyes tightly shut as your hands wrapped around his arm, needing something to hold on to before your trembling legs gave up on you. You quickly stripped yourself from your pants and underwear, the fabric pooling around your feet and touching the surprisingly clean bathroom tiles. 

“Needy I see” he scoffed, inserting a second finger and sending you over the moon with pleasure, your hands still wrapped around his wrist. 

“s-shut up, you m-made me like this” you stutter back at him, trying to impose some sort of dominance but Minho only swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, looking at you with hungry dark eyes. A broken moan escaped your lips that glistened from saliva, Minho curled his fingers upwards, grazing your g-spot with every move. Before another strained moan managed to escape your lips he retracted his fingers, lapping off your juices from his long fingers with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Turn around”

His cold voice pierced your eardrums and as if you’d been hexed you complied, your body moving to his command. Your hot cheek pressed up against the cubical door as Minho’s body was dangerously close to yours, his clothed bulge rubbing against your bare ass. The sound of his belt unbuckling echoed as you pressed your ass up against his bulge, desperate for his cock. 

In a swift motion both his pants and underwear dropped down to the floor, his erect veiny member springing out, the tip shining with precum. He pumped his length a couple of times before rubbing the tip against your dripping heat making you mewl out in suspense, the burning feeling in your core growing stronger. Minho alined himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in the tip to which you hissed, a momentary sting hitting your senses. He teased you by dragging his fingertips across your buttcheeks and up your spine, goosebumps erupting. 

Not being able to control yourself you pushed your butt out making you sink deeper on his length, earning a groan from the dark haired boy. 

“Desperate much?” he cooed from behind you. 

Your hands formed into fists as they held you body up from the door.

“F-fuck,,, hurry, I’m still on my shift you know?” you spat out at him, your legs shaking from how his dick stretched out your tight walls. 

“Whatever you say”

He laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing a fistful before turning his hand and yanking you towards him, your back arching as his hips slam against yours causing your butt to jiggle. You choked on your own moan as Minho’s hand tightly held you by the roots. 

The movement repeated and got harder by each thrust causing you to bite your lip in order to stop from screaming out in pleasure. Heat rose to your cheeks as your eyes rolled back into your skull, stray pieces of hair landing infront of your hair. Sweat beaded on Minho’s forehead, his groans getting louder as he neared his sweet release. 

“S-so tight,,, fuck.” He spoke haltingly, hating the fact that you made him weak. In order to hold on for longer you clenched around him not knowing that he’d grunt loudly.

“Now you’re c-clenching around me like a little whore?” 

A string of moans ensued from your delicate lips upon hearing his new nickname to you. How did he know that you liked it? You could only nod, your speech all slurred from the impact of his dick burrowing deep into your cervix. The knot in your stomach tightened, your head dazed as Minho’s thrusts became uneven, the grip on your hair tightening. Not feeling your legs any longer the knot unraveled, your body shivering from the orgasm that washed upon you, your juices coating Minho’s dick that was still pounding into you at an immense speed. 

“A-aah,,,s-shit!” you screamed out as he rushed after his own orgasm, overstimulating you in the meantime. Tears prickled in the corners of your watery eyes as Minho’s last moan echoed in the room, the moan being high in pitch. He pulled out of you leaving your cunt dripping as he pumped his length a couple of times, throwing his head back before his white cum spurted onto your butt, feeling the warm substance drip down your leg. The two of you panted, chest heaving as your forehead made contact with the door, legs weak. 

In your peripheral vision you see the boy stretching out a paper towel, his chest heaving as he wiped off the small sweat beads with the back of his hand. You shake your head in order to come back to earth before taking the paper towel from his hand, muttering a small “thank you”. 

“So what you say, babygirl?” His dick turning flaccid before pulling up his pants, looking at you wonderingly. You wipe off the cum and discard the paper in a small waste bin before you reach down to grab your panties and pants, pulling them briskly up. You reach for your back pocket, holding out a business card between your pointer and long finger with one hand, the other hand messing with your hair, making it look presentable. 

“Call me on Monday” you say before stumbling out of the cubical, leaving the grinning boy behind you. 

[tennessoui]

obikin 28,11 :3

kit to kit: oh, 28, knocking on the wrong door, that can be a cute modern quirky au

kit to kit: yeah totally sure !!! you know what it could also be? 4.2k of dark canon AU that is dub con due to identity issues that definitely ends with anakin tied to a bed with future plans of stockholm syndroming him!!!

(so read at your own risk here this is definitely on the darker side of these prompt fills)

28. Knocking On The Wrong Right Wrong Door AU (4.2k)

The storm’s picked up to dangerous levels by the time Anakin and his padawan have picked their way out of the smoking rubble of their ship and made it into the nearby town.

“Think of it this way!” Anakin yells over the howl of the wind. “The rain’ll put out the rest of the fire!”

The look Ahsoka gives him is cold enough to freeze the rain that’s pelting down on them.

“I hope Master Windu grounds you for destroying another one of the Temple’s ships,” she snips at him, looking deeply unimpressed with his dramatic expression of hurt and betrayal.

“No one keeps count of that stuff, Snips,” Anakin grins. “And anyway, if I get grounded, you’d definitely be grounded with me. As my Padawan.”

“I’d be promoted, actually. They’d knight me on the spot the first time I come back with all my ships intact.”

Anakin rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a crack of thunder loud enough to shake him to his bones and a seriously bright flash of lightning that connects with a wind-swept tree next to them.

“Shelter!” Anakin yells over the renewed rain. “Come on, Ahsoka!”

The town is small, but there has to be some sort of hotel or lodge or--

“We don’t have any credits, Master!” Ahsoka cries, running after him.

She’s right. All their funds were in their ship, and neither of them had thought to grab them.

Kriff it all.

He changes course as soon as they get to the outskirts of the village.

He pounds on the door of the first cottage they come across. Either no one’s in or they’re particularly unfriendly, because the door stays firmly shut.

He hits the wood harder, setting up a constant rhythm. In a second, they’ll run to the next house, but there’s something about this place that feels right. Surely if only Anakin could knock loud enough to be heard over the storm--

The door cracks open and warm yellow light spills out over the doorstep.

“What?” The man asks stiffly. Anakin can only see a sliver of his face--one blue eye, dark red hair, and a beard.

“Good evening,” Anakin says, putting on his best Jedi voice. “I am seeking shelter from the storm for myself and my companion. We--”

“There’s an inn next to the school in town. Goodnight.”

Anakin wedges his foot in just before the man can close the door. “Please sir, we don’t have any credits--”

“Unfortunate. Goodnight.”

“Please, sir. My name is Anakin Skywalker. I am a General in the War. Shelter us tonight and the Jedi Order will see you repaid in full!”

The man pauses and looks him up and down slowly. The door opens a little wider. “Skywalker?” He asks, sounding suspicious.

Anakin nods eagerly. He doesn’t particularly like dropping his name like that, especially not on strange planets, but he needs to get his Padawan out of the storm. “Anakin, yes. We won’t hurt you or anything, sir. I swear.”

“Come on, Anakin,” Ahsoka says from behind him. “Let’s just go somewhere else. Someone else will let us in.”

The man tears his gaze away from Anakin, the first time he’s done so this entire time, and looks over Ahsoka as well. He opens the door even farther. “I’ll let you in,” he decides and Anakin has to fight the loud sigh of relief. “But I would like you to give me your weapons for the night, please.”

The man looks back to Anakin with a smile. It changes the lines of his face, softens them until the man looks pleasant instead of harsh. He has a nice smile. He has a really, really nice smile.

“No--” Ahsoka starts to say, sounding offended, but Anakin, still dazed by the flash of the man’s teeth, is already saying, “Yeah, of course. Here you go,” and giving his lightsaber to the man as soon as he opens the door all the way.

“Thank you, Anakin,” the man replies with another one of those smiles. Anakin can feel his face heat up at the way his name sounds rolling off this man’s tongue. “And thank you, young one,” he says when Ahsoka reluctantly thrusts her own lightsabers towards him.

“I’m not young,” Ahsoka takes great offense and the man looks apologetic.

“‘Soka,” Anakin reprimands immediately. “Don’t be rude.”

She stares at him in astonishment. He doesn’t tend to correct her that harshly, even when she’s been snippier to foreign dignitaries. But the man doesn’t deserve an attitude from either of them. He’s letting them stay in his house! He’s gorgeous! He’s going to house them out of his own generosity for the night! He’s very, very fit!

“The sitting room is just down the hall and to the right,” the man says, with a tilt of his head. Anakin obediently pulls Ahsoka along. “I’ll just go grab you some dry clothes to change into.”

Behind him he hears the man lock the door. That’s good. Safety is important and he obviously seems a little paranoid. It’s now Anakin’s full time mission to make sure the man knows he can trust him. Them.

Them.

“I have a really bad feeling about this, Anakin,” Ahsoka hisses as he practically shoves her down the hallway and into the sitting room, which looks nice and cozy. There’s a couch and everything, with a Holo projector balanced on an old looking low table.

“I’m feeling much better about this than about our odds in that storm,” Anakin argues back in an undertone. There are footsteps above them, so the man’s bedroom must be on the second floor. Anakin wonders what it looks like, and Ahsoka seems to catch on with where his thoughts are because she hits him on the shoulder.

“You’d know what I’m talking about if you were thinking with your brain instead of your lightsaber, Master.”

He opens his mouth to tell her how rude that is and also how very wrong, as Anakin can think with both, thank you very much, but the man appears in the room with them before he has a chance to.

“They won’t fit, obviously,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as if he’s embarrassed to have surprise guests in his house and not have their correct sizes in his closet. “But anything’s better than what you’re wearing now, I thought.”

“Yeah!” Anakin says eagerly. Ahsoka gives him an unimpressed look, crossing her arms. “I mean,” he coughs. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

The redhead gifts Anakin another one of his smiles. This one makes his blue eyes crinkle, which just might end up being his cause of death. Enshrine him in the Jedi Temple and at the plaque on his fee put “Here Lies Anakin Skywalker: Dead Because An Attractive Stranger Treated Him With Human Decency”.

His padawan rolls her eyes and takes her proffered stack of clothes. The man shows her where the fresher is and she stalks into it.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin apologizes immediately when the man turns to look at him with a lost look. “She’s just mad at me for crashing our ship. We were flying fine one minute and the next we have to make this emergency landing that turns out to be a bit--hard on the landing. And….you didn’t ask, did you? Kark. Sorry.”

The man smiles again with an amused shake of his head. “It’s alright, Anakin, I was wondering anyway.” He holds out the clothes for Anakin to change into and Anakin grabs them because it’s something to do that isn’t keel over from embarrassment.

Or, of course, kneel down to show this stranger how much he appreciates his kindness.

Anakin wills that thought--and it’s gorgeous mental image--away. He just hasn’t had sex in a while, not since he and Padme had gotten divorced. Usually, he needs that intimate connection with someone before he even thinks about sex, but maybe when he’s too horny it doesn’t matter anymore? Because he doesn’t even know this man’s name, but when their hands brush as he receives the stack of clothes, he feels as though the lightning from outside is shooting down his spine.

“Um.” He says, like the intelligent war general he is.

Has the man moved closer? Are his eyes dark or is it just the lighting? Is he interested in men? Is he interested in Anakin? Also, what is his kriffing name?

Anakin glances down at the clothes, preparing to ask at least one of those questions, before he realizes something. “There’s no shirt here?” He asks instead of anything much more pressing.

The man’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks. “Oh, blast,” he mumbles, already turning to leave. “I’ll go grab you one, I’m sorry, I knew I forgot something.”

Anakin finds himself feeling hopelessly endeared by the man’s awkward flailing. He wonders if he’s managed to fluster the man. The idea feels amazing in his mind.

Grinning to himself, he starts shucking off his wet clothes. He can at least change into the pants while he waits for the man to come back, and if his timing is right---

He’s tying the loose pants tight around his waist when he hears footsteps in the hall.

Yes.

He turns around, shirtless, to glance at the man in the doorway, who’s stopped to stare at Anakin.

Anakin tries not to preen too obviously. Jedi training has done ridiculous things to the muscles of his back and chest, and he wants the man to look. To appreciate. To want.

And the man looks like he does. The man looks like he wants a lot.

There’s something dark and dangerous and wild and unrestrained in those eyes. Anakin wants closer.

He drops his shoulder and turns to face the man completely, letting him look his full. His gaze feels like a brand on every part of Anakin it touches. His hands tighten on the fabric of the shirt he’s holding when Anakin stretches his arms above his head as he yawns in a pathetically fake manner.

The man takes a couple of steps forward and Anakin stills in anticipation. He had thought he’d looked beautiful smiling, but this--this naked, dangerous want for Anakin that clouds his face--is so much more attractive. It would take one word from the man and he’d be on his knees. His back. His front. He’s not picky, he’s too busy feeling like his whole body is a live wire.

The door opens and Ahsoka’s deeply unimpressed tone effectively snaps the tension in the room. “What are you doing.”

“Getting dressed!” Anakin yelps, taking the shirt the man extends to him and putting it on immediately.

The man sends Ahsoka an unreadable but dark look before blinking a few times and smiling at her. Whatever had been on his face is gone and Anakin can’t help but think that he must have imagined it.

“Please, sit. Are you hungry?” He asks, rubbing his hands together. “Fixing you two a meal would be the least I can do for the galaxy’s heroes.”

Anakin flushes and preens as he follows the direction, the man’s praise wrapping like a warm blanket around his mind.

Ahsoka is less taken in, even as she settles in on the couch next to Anakin. “You could tell us your name,” she says, arms crossed. The look is ruined by the way the gray tunic the man has given to her is big enough to fall off one of her shoulders.

The man freezes for a second, barely noticeable if Anakin was not watching him as intently as he is. Then the stranger’s shoulders droop for a second and he looks so sad that actually Anakin doesn’t care if he never learns the man’s name. He’ll call him Dear for the rest of his life.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man eventually murmurs, sitting delicately on the arm of the comfortable looking chair and giving them a half-sort of smile. “At your service.”

Anakin’s eyes narrow at the name that feels like it should be familiar. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. It’s pretty. He likes it.

Ahsoka jumps to her feet. “Obi-Wan Kenobi!” she says and turns to Anakin as if that’s supposed to mean something to him. He blinks up at her in confusion. “You’re the Jedi that Fell after Qui-Gon Jinn died!”

Anakin rises immediately, brain trying to process this new information. Yes. Yeah. Obi-Wan Kenobi. They’d met. They’d met on Tatooine. Kenobi had been Qui-Gon’s padawan. He’d killed Maul after Maul killed Qui-Gon. And then...he’d left the Order. Anakin had been assigned another Master. He’d forgotten all about Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“I didn’t Fall,” Obi-Wan Kenobi corrects from his place on the chair. “Please, sit down.”

“You left the Order with Dooku!” Ahsoka accuses. “And you’re trying to tell me you didn’t Fall?”

Anakin’s hand goes to his belt automatically, but he doesn’t have his lightsaber. He’d given it to Obi-Wan.

“Look at my eyes, young one,” Obi-Wan demands in a cold tone. “Are they Sith-gold?”

Anakin hesitates. Obi-Wan has a point. His eyes are blue. And surely they’d know if there was another Sith afoot in the galaxy. Sith don’t like keeping quiet about themselves, from everything Anakin’s learned about them.

“You’re old enough to know how to hide that,” Ahsoka challenges immediately, which makes Obi-Wan wince.

“You don’t pull your punches, do you?” He asks with a forced laugh. Then he looks at Anakin, and his face turns pleading. “Anakin,” he says gently, slowly, Ah-na-kin, “I’m not lying. Please believe me. I--I didn’t leave the Order to join the Sith. I left because they wouldn’t allow me to train you, Anakin.”

Anakin feels like the shipwreck from an hour ago caused less whiplash than these few sentences. “Me?”

“Qui-Gon begged me to train you as he lay dying in my arms,” Obi-Wan’s jaw clenches and his face looks sad again. He closes his eyes as if to ward off the memory and when he opens them again they look wet. “When they wouldn’t allow me to, I realized there was nothing in the Order left for me. Dooku, my master’s master, came to me and asked me to leave with him. I had no idea that he would Fall. As soon as I realized what he had become, I ran. That’s why I’m here, Anakin. Please believe me. I have no involvement in the war, on either side.”

Force help him, but he does. He does believe him. He looks so honest, so heartbroken. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi? He can’t really say he remembers enough about what Kenobi had looked like all those years ago to know if the man in front of him could be an older version of the Padawan he’d met. He doesn’t actually remember anything about Kenobi, except--

“Hey, wait a second, you called me a pathetic lifeform!” Anakin says indignantly, a nine-year-old’s rage welling up in him at the memory.

Obi-Wan blinks at him and then bursts into laughter. It sounds like rocks, sliding into the ocean. Sith don’t laugh like that. He can’t imagine Ventress laughing like that. Or laughing at all, aside from a sinister chuckle.

Obi-Wan wipes the wetness from his eyes and grins at Anakin. “I’d forgotten about that,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Anakin pouts. “I was standing right there.”

“Making moon-eyes at Queen Amidala, yes,” Obi-Wan raises a sardonic eyebrow. “I thought you were sufficiently distracted. She was quite prettier.”

Anakin’s first instinct is to say, I’m prettier, but that’s not actually appropriate, and maybe Obi-Wan wouldn’t agree with him anyway.

“Do you believe me, Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan asks, turning to her while Anakin is working on controlling his flushed face.

Anakin’s padawan is still standing, but looks unsure. “I...I don’t know.”

“Then we can talk more about it over a cup of tea,” Obi-Wan decides, standing up. “I’ll be back in a second.”

As he walks past the couch to get through a door that must lead to his kitchen, he brushes his hand along Anakin’s shoulder and neck.

Anakin would like to say he handles this touch with grace and aplomb as befitting a Jedi Knight, but the look Ahsoka gives him makes him feel much more like a pathetic lifeform than a Jedi Knight.

“We can trust him,” Anakin mutters to her. “I remember him.”

“It’s been years, Anakin,” Ahsoka mutters back. “Even if you remember everything he’s ever said to you, he could be a completely different person. He probably is.”

“It’s just a night, Snips,” he reasons. “And there’s no alternatives. And I think we can trust him.”

She hesitates for a second and then exhales. “Fine,” she agrees. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Anakin grins in response.

----

Halfway through tea, Ahsoka starts nodding off.

“Crash landing takes a lot out of anyone,” Obi-Wan says sympathetically with a wink at Anakin, who puffs up in indignation. Before he can say anything in defense of his very necessary landing, Obi-Wan has taken Ahsoka’s tea and put it gently on the table. “Come on, girl, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. I have a spare room.”

Ahsoka goes easily enough, in a way that makes Anakin feel bad for how short-tempered he’s been with her in the past few hours. He’s been stressed, she’s been stressed, but she’s just a youngling still. She’s probably been exhausted for so long now.

“Could you put our cups in the sink, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks as he leads the Togruta out of the sitting area.

Anakin complies immediately, carrying each mug like they’re something special and precious before dumping out the contents into the sink and filling each with water.

He thinks about washing them and putting them into cupboards, but he doesn’t want Obi-Wan to think that’s he’s rifling through his cupboards or anything, so he goes back to the living room to wait for him.

Obi-Wan returns just a few seconds later, smiling slightly to himself.

“What?” Anakin asks immediately. If there’s a joke that Obi-Wan finds funny, Anakin wants to hear it too.

“Just something Ahsoka said,” he replies, looking fondly down at Anakin.

Anakin’s feeling too persistent to be sidetracked by that though, so he raises both his eyebrows.

“That she’d skewer me on her lightsabers if I besmirched her master’s honor, no matter how much he asks for it,” Obi-Wan recalls with a perfectly straight face.

Anakin buries his blushing face in his hands instantly. “Force,” he mumbles.

Obi-Wan laughs again. It’s just as pretty as last time and it makes Anakin peek through his fingers.

“It’s alright, Anakin,” Obi-Wan soothes. “I told her I thought I would be quite good at resisting any sort of begging from you.”

Anakin’s first thought is, of course, Want to bet?, but that’s hardly a thing to say to a near stranger. Even if he is very handsome and he has looked at you like you’re a feast and he’s a starving man just a few hours ago.

No, Anakin. Bad Anakin.

“So that’s me for the couch then, yeah?” He says in a totally normal and not at all high-pitched voice, standing so he can go fetch a blanket.

The look in Obi-Wan’s eyes freezes him where he is. They’re filled with that same dark want from before paired with a promise. “If you’d like,” Obi-Wan murmurs and then just to make sure there’s no confusion, he holds out his hand. “Or….”

Anakin doesn’t even have to think about it before he’s interlacing their fingers.

-----

When Anakin comes to, there’s light streaming in through the windows in Obi-Wan’s bedroom. He grumbles and tries to roll over.

He can’t.

Both of his arms have been securely tied over his head, and there’s a gag in his mouth.

Really, his first instinct should be panic and not a sort of sleepy arousal at what Obi-Wan plans to do with him like this.

But no. The panic doesn’t set in until he sees Obi-Wan by the window, deathstick held between his lips as he listens to a holocall.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan murmurs, exhaling a line of smoke out the window before turning to look at Anakin. He nods his head in greeting, as if this is a normal scenario. “Yes, he’s just woken up.”

When he turns his head back to the window, the yellow of his eyes catch on the sunlight and gleam bright gold.

“The padawan has been dealt with,” Obi-Wan continues, which makes Anakin lose any sense of calm he still felt. He’s cut off from the Force so he can’t feel his bond with Ahsoka. Fear and fury wash through him equally at the thought of Obi-Wan, this Sith lord traitor and dirty liar, dealing with Ahsoka.

Oh Force, she’d been right. She’d been so right. Had she paid the cost for Anakin’s blindness?

“Yes, Master. Tell Sidious he can expect his Chosen One kneeling before him in chains as soon as he deposits the credits into my account. I’ve sent multiple pictures already as proof that Anakin Skywalker is alive and bound.”

Anakin tries to yell through the gag, but it’s ineffective and only causes Obi-Wan to look at him with an amused eyebrow raise. “And awake,” the Sith traitor purrs into the comm. “Must go now. Remember, Dooku. My credits.”

With that, he ends the comm and stubs out his deathstick with a flourish, walking around to stand at the foot of the bed with all the grace of a predator who knows its prey is well and truly cornered.

“Good morning, darling,” Obi-Wan croons. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

Anakin glowers at him. He’s never hated anyone more than he hates Obi-Wan Kenobi at this moment.

“Your padawan is safe,” Obi-Wan starts, sitting on the bed by Anakin’s midsection and tracing a hand down his bare chest. Anakin twitches away from him. “No, really,” the Sith promises in a soothing voice. “I drugged her last night of course, but you have to admit she looked like she needed a full night’s sleep.”

The tea. Force, the tea. If Anakin had thought to check the tea, or to follow Obi-Wan into the kitchen and watch him make it, they wouldn’t be here in this position. He wouldn’t be here in this specific position. Force.

“And this morning while you slept, I carried her out to my ship--or Dooku’s ship, I suppose--and put her on route to the Jedi Temple. She’ll arrive in a day or so, probably. I even gave her food and drink to survive comfortably until then. There’s no need to worry.”

Anakin tries to convey the level of disbelief he has for that statement in a single glare. Obi-Wan shrugs languidly, hand still touching his skin in a way he’d enjoyed last night. His body hasn’t gotten the notice that it shouldn’t enjoy Obi-Wan’s touch anymore, which is making this whole bound and gagged thing really awkward.

“Well, for her, I suppose.” Obi-Wan chuckles and pulls his hand away so he can light another deathstick. He takes a drag and then exhales. “I’ll even let you comm her. It’s actually quite important that you do. You see, I told her that I would kill you if she tried to come back here without first going to the Temple. She seemed to believe me.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, as if they’re sharing a joke at Ahsoka’s expense.

“Like I’d kill you,” Obi-Wan huffs a laugh, shaking his head and bringing the deathstick back to his mouth. “I told her I’d let you comm her the second she lands. Of course, she will be surrounded by Jedi masters, who will be very interested in hearing my proposed trade deal, even if she isn’t. I will give them the name of Darth Sidious, my master’s master. I will give them proof enough to end the war and have him arrested and tried for his crimes. And they will give me you.”

Anakin feels his eyes widen at the words. It’s so unexpected that even if he weren’t gagged, he wouldn’t be able to think of a single thing to say.

“It’s perfect, really,” Obi-Wan murmurs, a hand coming up to stroke through Anakin’s hair. “Sidious thinks he is about to get his hands on you, as that has been the plan for weeks now. He has paid good money for you, you know. I almost feel bad for deciding to break our agreement. But you just fell apart so beautifully under my hands last night, darling. How can I give you up?”

Anakin shivers as the memory of last night washes over his mind. He’s never felt more ashamed and yet still guiltily pleased with his performance. The praise he's getting. Force it feels good to be praised.

“So Sidious thinks he will get you, the Jedi will get Sidious, Ahsoka will probably get knighted, and you will be where you belong,” Obi-Wan blows out smoke and then leans down to grin into Anakin’s face. Anakin has to tell himself not to look away. Those yellow eyes are filled with a recognizable lust. It had been so attractive last night. It’s still attractive now, if he’s being completely honest. Force, what is wrong with him?

Obi-Wan’s hand leaves his hair to press delicately on a new bruise on his throat. “You will be with me.”

[delimeful]

neither calm nor quiet

BTHB: Trapped In A Net

warnings: miscommunication, past familial and domestic abuse mentions, injury, violence, terrible decision making skills

-

When Virgil finally decided to brave shallower waters, it had already been nearly half a moon cycle since Logan had vanished.

He’d made excuses at first, telling himself that the dread he felt was just his normal brand of overwrought paranoia. For the first few days, he was half-convinced that his curiosity-prone friend would appear at any moment, probably lugging some sort of stray litter or ‘interesting human artifact’ along with him to explain why he’d been late.

Things would be normal again. Virgil would find some rocks for them to sun on and Logan would ramble on about the potential uses of his find, and maybe Virgil would teasingly suggest some outlandish way the trash was secretly a violent human weapon, just to hear Logan thoroughly refute it.

After another three days passed with no sign of the other selkie, Virgil was forced to let that fantasy fade. Logan had never been this late before, not even that time he’d managed to carry an entire minifridge along with him for Virgil to identify.

Something had to have happened to him.

He’d spent the next week scouring the currents for any sign of his missing friend, even approaching other pods and asking around, requesting that they keep an eye out for any signs of Logan. He didn’t expect much from that; the two of them didn’t socialize with other selkies often enough to make any friends, and their two-person pod was too small to spare any food during winter, so there was nothing for the other pods to gain by helping them.

Virgil knew better than most how selfish pod politics could be.

Every few days, he would return to their meeting spot and catch a few hours of sleep to keep himself from crashing, always naively hoping that Logan would be there when he woke. He never was.

In the end, he had to face what he’d already known from the beginning: either Logan was dead, or he’d gone onland and gotten himself bound by a human.

He didn’t want to believe Logan had decided to brave the human world even after Virgil’s many, many warnings against it, but believing the alternative was even worse. So, he steeled himself to do the one thing he’d sworn to never do again, and headed for the cold, rocky shores of the nearest human settlement.

Naturally, he spent so long swimming back and forth between different stretches of beach, trying to force himself to take those literal first steps, that he didn’t notice the woven fibers dancing in the water until he’d plowed right into them.

A fishing net, dyed skillfully to blend in with the water, and large enough that when he tried to twist out of it, he only became further entangled.

Panic set in, then, clouding his mind and leaving him thrashing ineffectively like a simple animal. He couldn’t help it-- he couldn’t breathe underwater in either form, had no gills to keep him steady as he was dragged along by the current. He couldn’t untangle himself while adrift, couldn’t find solid ground while tangled. He would drown.

Between one blink and the next, he found himself in open air, gritty sand pressed against his face. Waves crested gently around him, a sharp contrast to the headache pounding around in his skull.

He never thought he’d be relieved about blacking out and beaching himself, but then, he’d never been worried about drowning in his own element before.

Okay. There weren’t any humans around to see the stupid idiot seal stuck on the beach. This was still salvageable.

Taking a deep breath, he attempted to bite through the netting with his incisors, and got a mouthful of sore gums for his trouble. The dyed fibers seemed to be woven around a base net of fishing wire, because of course they were. He let his head thunk back to the sandy ground, groaning at the new surge of pain the motion caused.

Sun-warmed saltwater continued to wash over his tail, and he blinked slowly, measuring his breaths. He could figure this out. He wouldn’t dry out. He just needed a moment to put himself back together. He could… He…

His eyelids grew heavy, and everything went dark.

-

Roman thought the guy was a pile of garbage at first, to be quite honest.

Not on purpose, of course! But, come on, when one sees a mound of mystery washed up on shore, it generally ends up being a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around half-rotted driftwood, not a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around beautiful strangers wearing expensive-looking fur coats!

His next thought, once he’d gotten closer, was that the beautiful stranger wearing the expensive-looking fur coat was dead, and that a body had washed up on his little strip of shoreline. Pallid skin, blue lips, and deep shadows under their eyes-- the beautiful stranger wasn’t exactly giving off an aura of vim and vigor.

He’d spent a few moments staring at his contact list, trying to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do about a body. Should he call 911? … Should he call Remus?

Before he could make a decision either way, he finally picked up on the shallow rise and fall of the beautiful stranger’s chest, and realized that they were still alive! Potentially not for much longer, laying out in the cold all soggy like that, but Roman could work with mostly alive!

And so, he found himself here, carefully carrying the small but surprisingly dense stranger up to his home by the cliffs, and risking looking like a total serial killer doing it.

He couldn’t help but theorize as he walked. A beautiful stranger in expensive clothing, tangled in nets with what appeared to be a head wound… It read like an old unsolved case in a detective novel, where the mysterious stranger in question got in too deep with some dangerous people and ended up clubbed over the head and dumped into a river to tie up loose ends.

“Except you managed to survive, obviously,” Roman said to them, mostly to reassure himself. He really had to stop eavesdropping on Remus’s true crime podcasts. “And you made your way to me! Excellent choice, I’m great at nursing people back to health. Probably. I don’t have much practical experience, but, you know, I’ve read extensively about this exact thing. In romance novels. As one does.”

The beautiful and mysterious stranger continued to be unconscious. Roman was starting to feel grateful for it.

His house was empty, thankfully, since his brother had work to attend to today. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before pushing the door open and carrying the stranger inside, sighing with relief at the warm air.

“That’s got to feel much better, hm?”

He sat the stranger down in the foyer, removing his shoes to go grab some scissors from the kitchen.

“First order of business,” he announced in his best announcer voice, “getting all that netting off of you. While I’m sure you could rock fishnet leggings, fish nets on their own just don’t have the same je ne sais quoi, you know? Also, they look very uncomfortable. You’re great at staying still, so just keep that up.”

He carefully cut his way through the looser parts of netting, pulling it off piece by piece until all that was left were the abrasions where they’d formerly cut into skin. Roman had no idea how they’d even managed to get that tangled up, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It couldn’t have been pretty.

In the process of removing the net, however, he’d noticed another rather pressing matter.

Going by the flash of thigh he’d accidentally witnessed while shifting the net around, the stranger definitely wasn't wearing anything under that fur coat of theirs. Like, nothing.

(Exactly what kind of situation had the stranger been in before this?!)

Even so, leaving them in a sodden coat couldn’t be good for their constitution. Or his poor couch’s upholstery.

Roman spent a few moments puzzling the situation out before coming up with a brilliant solution. He retrieved the fluffy gold comforter from his bed and draped it over the stranger, covering their front half with it. Then, he carefully worked their arms out of the coat’s sleeves, very pointedly not focusing on the adorable freckled shoulders this operation revealed. Finally, he tugged the entire coat out from behind them, wincing at the slight furrow that appeared in their brow.

“Sorry, sorry, I know the cold floor can’t be comfortable…”

Soggy coat removed, he was free to continue bundling the rest of the comforter around the stranger’s back, therefore making it easy for him to pick them up in a neat little bundle of blanket and deposit them on the couch. No nudity awkwardness required!

Pleased with his solution, he draped a fluffy towel over the stranger’s head and carefully dried some of the dampness from their hair. Next, he wasted no time in stoking the fire higher in his hearth, sending waves of warmth into the room and making it so the stranger’s skin didn’t look quite so clammy.

Once he’d cleaned up the mess left in the foyer and grabbed the first aid kit from under his sink, he planted himself in a chair next to the couch, feeling ready to handle anything.

“Okay, Google. How do I treat a head wound?”

-

Virgil felt as though he’d woken to a nightmare.

He was in the wrong body, surrounded on all sides by heavy fabric and warm air, and his coat was missing. That list of facts alone was just about as bad as any night terror he’d had.

The humming was unusual, though.

A soft tune, occasionally broken up by a half-muttered lyric or two, carried through the air, voice completely at ease. His mother had never sung to him in front of others, and it sure as hell wasn’t his father.

He tried to remember where he’d been last. The back of his head stung… he’d ended up on a beach? The tide had been turning, from high to low… He must have dried out up there, changed into his less durable form. And now he was warm and dry.

He clenched his fists weakly and grit his teeth, knowing that a human had found him and stolen him away. Just like his mother. He’d come to find Logan and lost himself before ever even starting. Typical.

“Are you with us, Sleeping Beauty?” a bright voice asked.

The humming had broken off while he was absorbed in his thoughts, and now he could hear the shift and rustle of movement next to him. He opened his eyes, already aiming the coldest possible glare at his captor.

He was sort of surprised to find that the human sitting at his side wasn’t holding his coat. His father used to make a point of handling his mother’s coat at any opportunity. He’d liked to watch his mother stare at it, resting assured that so long as he held it in his possession, she could do him no harm.

This human was much younger than his father had been, probably around as old as Virgil was now. He had dark skin and soft eyes that reflected the firelight, and he was smiling hopefully at Virgil.

“Hello there! It’s excellent to see you looking a little more lively! I was starting to think about actually calling the hospital, heh.”

Wordlessly, Virgil slowly shifted to sit up, shoving the thick blanket out and shaking the cloth from his head. He looked down, confirming what he already knew. No coat. The human hadn’t even bothered to dress him up in human trappings to ‘make up’ for the absence.

“Ah, yeah... I sort of basically pulled you out of the ocean and what little you were wearing was completely soaked.” The human rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I figured it’d be less of an invasion of privacy to just let you get dressed yourself once you woke up?”

Oh, the human was worried about his privacy? What a joke.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, truly!” the human continued, oblivious to Virgil’s rising ire. He gave a mocking little bow, pretending to respect the one he’d abducted. “My sincerest apologies.”

He was done playing along with mind games like these. Better to let the human know where they stood right off the bat.

“I’m going to kill you,” Virgil promised, and then lunged for the human’s jugular.

To his genuine surprise, he actually made contact, hands clamping onto the junction between collar and throat. The human let out a high-pitched yelp as his chair toppled over, taking both of them with it.

Virgil landed knee-first on the human’s sternum, and paused to blink down at the wheezing stranger, who apparently had been so confident in the weakness of his victim that he hadn’t bothered to bind Virgil from harming him in advance.

Unless.

His grip loosened slightly, just in time for the human’s fist to catch him squarely in the mouth. He threw himself backwards, rolling with the force of the motion to get some distance and hunkering in a crouch. It had been too long since he’d been active in this form, his sense of balance was in shambles.

The human scrambled to his feet, and grabbed the back of the chair, eyes wild. He thrust it out between them like a barrier, as though it could prevent any more strangulation attempts.

“What is wrong with you?!” he shrieked, voice cracking as his gaze flickered back and forth between Virgil and some far off point. “I tenderly nursed you back to health, and your response is to try and murder me? Unfair! Cruel! Rude!”

“Where is my coat?” Virgil replied, voice hoarse and split lip stinging. A test, because humans were tricky and loved to lie.

“Your— your coat?” The human pulled up short, head tilting slightly in a bewildered manner. A convincing actor, if nothing else. “Is that what all this is about? I put it on the coat hanger to dry! I know better than to try and wash someone’s fancy fur coat without permission, yeesh.”

A low warning growl in the back of his throat, Virgil turned his gaze from the current threat and followed the gesture the human had made.

Sure enough, there it was. His freedom, draped on a peg in the open with all the rest of the human’s fabric outer layers like some common garment.

“Do you… want me to get it— eep!” The human lifted the chair back up in paltry defense as Virgil snarled at him. He rose up and crossed the distance to his pelt in five wobbly strides, before the human could try and return it to him and lock them both into a loveless marriage.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he quickly wrapped his second skin around him, that grounding weight settling back where it belonged. He still couldn’t shift back, not here, but the ocean was close enough to taste in the air.

The human was still huddled defensively by the fireplace, looking indignantly bewildered and not at all like he knew he’d just given up the perfect opportunity to control Virgil.

Which meant that-- barring some incredibly convoluted scheme-- he really had no idea. And Virgil had tried to strangle him, even if under false pretenses. He drew the edges of his pelt closer around him, rolling the beginnings of an apology around in his mind.

-

The mysterious stranger was still glaring at Roman like they were contemplating continuing to try and strangle him to death at any moment.

He’d brought a half-drowned stranger into his home and tenderly treated their injuries, and what had he received in return for his efforts? A murder attempt, which now that he thought about it was maybe an outcome he should have considered earlier. Remus would never let him live this down.

Assuming he lived long enough for his brother to give him shit about it, that was.

The stranger seemed to at least be a little calmer now that their reclaimed coat was thoroughly wrapped around them, rendering them more lump-shaped than person. Roman felt much more secure in glaring back, too.

He set his impromptu shield/chair down firmly on the floor. “I have no idea what your problem is, Gloomy B. Jones, but where I’m from, the response to someone saving you from dying of hypothermia is ‘thank you’, not a strangulation attempt!”

The murderglare intensified. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yes,” Roman said, disbelieving, “because you were too busy being unconscious. On the beach. In 40-below temperatures!”

“That’s my problem, not yours,” the stranger responded snappishly.

Roman threw his hands in the air, but his impending frustrated rant was impeded by the sight of a stifled flinch running through the stranger. Feeling a stab of guilt, he lowered his arms slowly before continuing.

“It seems I made it my problem when I dragged your soggy self all the way to my house, so--”

“Great news for you, then: I’m leaving.” Baring their teeth in a distinctly unfriendly manner, the stranger turned to do just that.

“Hold it!” Roman called, alarmed. “You’re going into town like that?! People will think you’re a flasher!” Even his brother wouldn’t go out dressed in nothing but an oversized coat. ... Probably.

The stranger paused, squinting at him warily. Roman took it as a cue to continue.

“Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here. Several wrong feet. Let’s try again. I’m Roman Faroe, I work for the local newspaper, and you are…?”

“None of your business,” replied the stranger, with all the stubborn petulance of a toddler digging their heels in and refusing to move whilst smack dab in the middle of an overcrowded supermarket.

“Would you like me to call you ‘Almost-Corpse-I-Dragged-Off-The-Beach?’ Perhaps make up a thematic nickname or two for you? Because let me tell you, this is exactly how you get called--,”

“Hold on,” the stranger cut him off, a realization seeming to dawn on him, “did you say you worked for the news?”

“Yes, I mean, the newspaper not the news. Although I’m sure I’d make an excellent anchor,” Roman gestured to all of himself for effect, “my true passion lies in my carefully curated romantic advice column!”

“So, you get all the information in town,” continued the stranger, who had a strange glint in their eye.

“I mean, if you want to be a nerd about it.”

“How about this.” The stranger stepped forward, straightening out of their defensive slouch for the explicit purpose of being just tall enough to loom over Roman. “You want to know my name? I’ll tell you, if you help me track down something important that I lost.”

An investigative quest for a mysterious MacGuffin? Roman swallowed, feeling his heart flutter wildly with what felt less like intimidation and more like excitement. He could totally keep his cool, he just had to open his mouth and say something suave.

“I also want to know your origin story,” he opened his mouth and babbled instead.

The stranger narrowed their eyes for a moment, and Roman belatedly remembered the near-strangulation. Perhaps he shouldn't be agitating a femme fatale type, what with all the emphasis on the fatale.

To his surprise, it only took a moment before they capitulated, sticking a hand out. “Fine. After my thing gets done.”

Roman shook gladly, trying not to shiver at the cool touch. Had they checked to make sure the stranger wasn’t hypothermic yet? “It’s a deal, then.”

“Great.” They twisted on their heel, stalking to the door. “Let’s get this over with, already.”

“Hold on there, Surly Temple.” Roman called, hand on his hip. “I hate to break it to you, but if you go into town mostly naked, the only news we’ll be hearing about will be your immediate arrest.”

The stranger glanced down at his attire, and then released the door handle with a low sigh. “... Pants first?”

“Pants first.”