#like. he was never like openly cruel to her or anything & she's grateful to him for saving her life & standing up for her but like.

[imaginarianisms]

1 day i will make a meta of sansa's dynamic with her metaphorical champions/suitors & how that correlates to the ashford theory (i.e sansa being betrothed to joffrey baratheon, then promised to willas tyrell, then being married to tyrion lannister, then being married to harry hardying then married to aegon vi targaryen & aurane velaryon but it is not this day. lmao. when i make that meta it'll be so over for y'all.

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Bruce watched Lucius, or more specifically his hands, with a well concealed hostility.  If you didn’t truly know Bruce or weren’t well versed at reading suppressed emotions, you could believe it was just another artificially polite expression.  But Lucius had known Bruce since he was a child and Marinette hadn’t spent years fighting an emotional terrorist for nothing.  “I haven’t seen you all night and now I find you coopting this beautiful young lady’s time,” Bruce observed, his mouth tight.

Marinette eyed him apprehensively, subconsciously taking a half step back.  Her whole body stiffening.  Lucius took note of the change and moved slightly between the two of them and laughed politely.  He wasn’t sure what caused the change in demeanor but he still wanted to try to cultivate a business relationship with the young lady.  When they got the fabrics working, they would need a designer and she was not only clearly the perfect candidate for the position, they had already been considering her before everything she’d said during their dance.  

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne.  I assure you I was not avoiding you in favor of a prettier face,” he chuckled.  “Although I’ve been informed elusiveness seems to be a quality I exude unintentionally.” He winked at Marinette who smiled weakly at the attempt.

Bruce chuckled with him, tight and short exhales, his eyes never softening.  “I wouldn’t blame you at all.  She certainly is lovely.”

Marinette’s chest hollowed out, all the breath in her evaporating out of her chest as though it had never been there.  “Kind of you to say,” she rasped out just barely looking up to meet his eyes.

“Just saying the truth,” he assured her with more sincerity.  His eyes finally managed to soften as he looked at her, but immediately hardened again when he returned his gaze to Lucius.  “I’m sorry if Lucius has been keeping you captive.  I know he likes to talk and it can be hard to get him to stop, especially when he’s taken a particular interest in something… or someone.”  His eyes sharpened on Lucius as he spoke.  Lucius only raised his eyebrow in response, leaning back slightly as if to see Bruce a bit better.

Marinette immediately straightened back up, her eyes hardening.  All evidence of uncertainty and unease shattering as she did.  She had been the one to approach M. Fox.  She had been the one to coopt his time.  She had been the one manipulating the situation.  And now M. Wayne was going to try to twist this on M. Fox, who had been nothing but gracious and kind.  “I was just discussing innovation and the application process with M. Fox,” Marinette responded coldly before Lucius could.  “He was polite enough to entertain my questions.  He has been quite polite and charming and professional.”

“Were you thinking of working for WE?” Bruce asks perking up slightly.  

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Marinette scoffed out before she could stop herself.  She immediately mentally face palmed.  This wasn’t the time for this.  Now was about Max, not her.  The mission had been successful she wasn’t going to blow it now by letting M. Fox see her overreactions.  

She let out a breath and looked back up with an overly wide smile.  “As I mentioned to M. Fox, I’m not really interested in technology.  I couldn’t imagine anything more boring than staring at numbers and code all day long,” she laughed in the way she’d seen Adrien laugh at events like this, an empty, meaningless laugh meant to indicate a lack of interest in the topic rather than actual entertainment, leaning toward Lucius as she said it, hoping to pull him into the conversation and rescue her from.

“It’s not my favorite part of the day either,” Lucius smiled graciously.  “I imagine you would still be good at it,” he assured her, “but I can’t say I blame you. I would likely react the same if faced with bolts of fabric and thread.”

Marinette smiled politely, grateful to him for the reprieve.  “Well that sounds interesting,” Bruce interjected.  “Perhaps we can discuss what would interest you during a dance.” He motioned toward the dancefloor and held his hand out toward her.

Marinette glanced down at the hand, a weight settling in the pit of her stomach.  If she gave in he’d have her for the duration of the song.  One-on-one.  No escape without creating a scene.  Trapped by the same societal conventions she’d used against M. Fox.  “Surely you must have more important guests to attend to,” she offered instead.

“I do not,” he assured her, sincerity radiating from his eyes.

Marinette opened her mouth to say yes, resigning herself to her fate when she felt a hand on her hip.  “There you are M’lady.  I lost you in the sea of people for a moment.”  Adrien prompted her to turn slightly so he could look her in the eyes. “You okay?”

Her shoulders, she hadn’t even realized had worked their way up to almost touching her jaw, instantly relaxed.  She gave him a relieved smile and squeezed his hand.  “I’m good, Kitty.  Thank you.”

“Is this your date?” Bruce inserted, eyeing him coldly, but held his hand out to him.  “Bruce Wayne.”

Adrien gave him his practiced, social smile, perfect for galas with strangers and potentially hostile associates.  “Nice to meet you, sir.  This is a very nice gathering.  Very kind of you to do this for the orphans,” his tone was bordering on openly hostile but keeping to the socially acceptable side of the border. Marinette choked at the statement. She hadn’t really thought about the intent of the gala since she’d made the plan.  When she’d made it, the purpose hadn’t had any bearing.  But now…

“Thank you.  It is an important cause to my family and myself.”  He missed the way Adrien squeezed Marinette tighter at his words. “You mentioned talking to Mr. Fox about innovation at Wayne Enterprises.  Perhaps you would like a tour of the building.  I can arrange one personally for you.”

Adrien pulled his lips into a tight, sickeningly artificial smile.  “How very generous of you.  Unfortunately, we won’t be in town that long.  We are scheduled to leave town Tuesday.”

Bruce looked between the two, forcing his body to not stiffen at Adrien responding for Marinette.  “Tell me about yourself, son,” Bruce smiled stiffly, noting that he had artfully left out his name, not that Bruce didn’t know it already, although the physical proximity to Marinette was unexpected.

It took almost all of Marinette’s experience as Ladybug to keep a poker face instead of letting her jaw drop in offense.  “Why don’t you let these young people dance, Bruce,” Lucius interrupted, detecting Marinette’s increased discomfort.  “After all, it’s cruel to make the young have to endure making conversation with the old guard like us.”  He turned to Marinette and Adrien with a kind smile.  “Make sure you don’t miss your opportunity to dance tonight.”

Marinette smiled at him gratefully.  “Not at all, M. Fox.  I found our conversation very fascinating.  Thank you very much for sharing your time with me.  It was much appreciated.  But I will take you up on your advice.”  She turned to Adrien and motioned to the dancefloor.  “Shall we?”

“Always,” Adrien smiled.  “Gentlemen.”  He nodded to them and guided Marinette across the dancefloor, taking great care to escort her as far from them as he possibly could.  He glanced around to make sure the men couldn’t see them and pulled Marinette into a comforting, all-encompassing hug.  “How are you really?”

Marinette held him tightly and buried her head in his chest.  “I’ll be okay.  I just… Thank you for the save.”  She laid her head on his chest as they swayed to the music.  Her breath slowly shifted from shaky to more steady.  She lost track of the number of songs that passed while she found her voice again.  When she could breathe normally again, she stood straight and smiled at Adrien.  “It worked.”

“It worked?” Adrien asked excitedly.

Marinette nodded and had to stop herself from doing an entirely inappropriate victory dance.  “He wants to meet Max on Monday.  Well, me too,” she cringed slightly, not looking forward to being involved beyond what she had done already.  “But! But, he was floored by Max’s invention. Like completely floored!  And knows about Rabler now.  He did not look happy at all about the news.”  Her grin widened as she remembered the encounter.  “I think Max is really going to be taken care of.  It went so well!” she squealed.

Adrien grinned back and hugged her.  “We have to let Max know.”

Marinette nodded.  “He’ll call us when he’s done.  We just need to stay up until then.”

Adrien nodded.  “Coffee it is then.  Do you want to leave now or look around?”  Marinette looked around quickly.  By the time she looked back at Adrien, her eyes had lost their light. She looked exhausted suddenly, drained by the experience.  Adrien gave her an understanding smile and squeeze.  The mission was over.  She didn’t need to be in mission mode anymore, or at least not high alert.  She just had the meeting on Monday and she was done. Now she could stop blocking any potentially interfering emotions and actually let herself feel again.  “Let’s get out of here and find a coffee shop then. We can take it back to the hotel and watch bad movies until Max calls.”

Marinette gave him a weak smile.  “Maybe popcorn and candy and drinks instead,” she offered. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Sooooo many drinks and ice cream.”

Adrien laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder to help guide her and comfort her at the same time.  They wound through the crowd making their way to the exit and freedom, where Marinette could finally breathe freely.  They had almost made it to the doors when they heard someone call Adrien’s name.  Adrien looked around and cursed under his breath.  “Hey again.”

“Leaving so soon?” Tim asked.  He looked between the two with a concerned expression.  It was awfully early in the night to leave already.

“Yeah, I think so.  It’s a nice event but I think we’re ready to go home, take off the stuffy clothes, and drink,” he gave him a charming, conspiratorial smile. Nobody their age wanted to be here and they all knew it.

“Oh that sounds like a brilliant plan,” the blonde woman next to Tim grinned.  “I wish we could do that.  But we have to at least wait until the announcement.  And we can’t drink.  But it would help handle events like this.”  She gave them a wide smile and held out her hand.  “I’m Stephanie.  Nice to meet you.”

Adrien smiled politely back.  “Adrien.  Hi.”

Marinette smiled civilly.  “Marinette.  Nice to meet you.”

Stephanie’s smile widened.  “Oh Timmy, make sure to keep this one away from Bruce.  Black hair, blue eyes, looks beautiful but haunted. He’ll adopt her in an instant.”

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes, drawing Stephanie’s attention to him, both of them missing the way Marinette and Adrien balked and Marinette’s entire body went rigid again.  “Bruce’s breaking that habit with today’s announcement.”

Adrien paled slightly.  This could go nowhere good, but it was like watching an akuma hit someone when you’re too far away to help.  It was going to happen no matter what.  The damage would be inestimable and all he could do was watch as it got worse and worse.  “Oh?”

“Yeah, our new brother… or rather their new brother, I’m not officially adopted, just unofficially the favorite child,” Steph winked at them.  Tim huffed playfully but didn’t contradict her.  It was easier to just let it go.  “Anyway, the new Wayne doesn’t have blue eyes. Does have black hair, is beautiful and looks haunted, so maybe it’s just the blue eyes that don’t matter so much anymore.”

“N…new brother?” Adrien stuttered, struggling to keep his voice even and polite.  The normal reaction to such news would be interest and happiness.  Well, they certainly had his interest.  The happiness part though…  He pulled Marinette tighter as he sent her a furtive look.  She was doing an admirable job of masking her response but he knew her. He knew the signs.  He knew her lips were a bit tighter than usual.  He knew her jaw was clenched harder than was normal.  He knew her breathing was harder than average.  He knew he shouldn’t be able to feel her pulse from here.

“Yeah!” Stephanie enthused.  “Duke.”

“We were supposed to wait for the announcement,” Tim chastised with no real heat behind his words.  “But yes.  That’s what this gala is really for.  To officially announce the adoption of Duke Thomas.  So, yet another ‘poor orphan’ joins the rest of us,” he joked.  “I swear Bruce just can’t help himself.  He sees a kid and instantly feels the need to protect and help.”

“So thoughtful,” Marinette rasped out, pretending like her entire chest wasn’t breaking apart and disintegrating in front of them.  “You must all be so excited.”

Tim looked at her for a moment but before he could analyze her tone or body language, they heard someone tapping on a microphone.  “That’s our cue,” Stephanie squealed.  “Looks like you might make it for the announcement after all.  It was nice to meet you if I don’t see you after.”  Tim and Stephanie waved before making their way to the stage.

Once the two were gone, Marinette’s eyes bulged as Tim’s words reverberated in her head.  This whole thing was to introduce a new child, another new child he took in, another addition to his family, another child he wanted and brought into his life instead of throwing them out.  Her eyes darted among the family members as they all made their way up onto the stage.  All standing behind the new member, smiling at him, hugging him, eyes shining in acceptance for him.  One big happy family, not wanting for anything… or anyone.

Marinette didn’t realize she had stopped breathing until her body forced a deep gasping breath, knocking her out of her stupor. She tore her eyes away so violently, she stumbled back, or maybe it was just that her resilience had disappeared with the words.  They should not be here.  They… she should never have come.  This was a stupid, terrible plan.  She had no right to intrude.  She had no right to be here… for this.

Her heart raced out of control.  Her whole body started shaking.  She couldn’t breathe.  Why couldn’t she breathe now?  But suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room.  Why wasn’t there air?  There had been air before, hadn’t there been?  She remembers being able to breathe earlier.  She thinks.  Maybe she made that up.  Maybe she hadn’t been able to breathe since she stepped in the room.

She stumbled again and reached out for support, never doubting it would be there for her.  Adrien responded instantly, bringing her into his chest and quickly guiding her out of the gala.  He whispered comforting and reassuring words as they moved, throwing empty smiles at anyone who bothered looking their way, as though helping his drunk date home, nothing scandalous or even unusual, nothing to look twice at.

They missed the eyes searching the crowd for them and the quickly covered up frown at finding them missing.

Chapter 3

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger 

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

[azucanela]

THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN | TSUKISHIMA KEI

HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Tsukishima Kei would never admit that he happens to like receiving affection quite a bit, only from Y/N L/N of course, and only if no one ever finds out about it. 

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: honestly i think this is cute, but theres some angst oops, pining, unedited, kissing, kinda sad if you can read between the lines, season three spoilers

A/N: tsukki lovers come get your juice. also if you can’t tell im in the mood for haikyuu!! and tsukki so... rip the wips and requests i said i’d get done but it’ll happen eventually 

“Can I hug you?”

How did he end up here? A fantastic question that he cannot find the answer for as he looks down at Y/N, who’d insisted he walk her to the girl’s dorm. He probably should’ve predicted that she’d ask about his sudden change of pace, but Tsukishima doubted he ever would’ve predicted she’d ask to hug him. Especially since he definitely hadn’t been the nicest to her.

“This didn’t happen.” 

That’s all Tsukishima says as he awkwardly winds his arms arounds Y/N’s form. She hums in response, and Y/N has a feeling if he could see the grin on her face he’d pull away almost immediately. Which is why she’d buried her face in his chest, arms around his body as they stand just outside dorms they’ve been residing in during their stay at the training camp alongside the other teams. 

Tsukishima doesn’t know why he agreed to this. He’s not sure he wants to as he feels Y/N’s breath against his chest, causing his cheeks to warm. During the walk she’d confronted him and he’d— for some reason — told her that he didn’t intend to get left behind Hinata and Kageyama; who’d improved quite a bit it appeared. Even if Volleyball meant absolutely nothing to him.

And then she asked to hug him. Y/N just had a feeling he could use one, though, if she was honest, Y/N had expected a hard no. She’d expected him to criticize her for asking such a childish question, she’d expected teasing and cruel remarks about how ridiculous the idea was. Tsukishima had never been affectionate, or at least openly affectionate. He was never involved in team hugs, hugs in general, not even a simple fist bump from Tanaka. 

And yet here he was, agreeing to a hug from Y/N L/N, one of the new managers of the Karasuno Volleyball Club. 

“This didn’t happen.” Came her response, her words of agreement were muffled against Tsukishima’s chest, but he’d heard her. They had an understanding. 

And he’d never admit it, but it was nice. Hugging someone. Holding someone in his arms. Tsukishima hadn’t actually accepted affection in a while, maybe it was because one of the only people he’d been close with in his life— the one person he looked up to — ended up being a liar. Maybe its because a small part of him wanted to maintain his reputation as a coldhearted jerk, or maybe its because he just hadn’t found someone’s affection he enjoyed.

Until now, of course. There was something different about having Y/N in his arms, something comforting about her presence that made him feel compelled to answer the questions she asked as she pried about his sudden change in attitude. It’s not like they were close, though he tolerated her when she’d simply started coming to club meeting; apparently she’d known Tanaka from middle school, and decided to visit him at the club, until one day it became a daily thing. They ended up giving her the title of manager after she to work alongside Kiyoko. Y/N had even helped tutor those idiots, Kageyama and Hinata, something Tsukishima somehow got roped into. After that, he had a newfound respect for the girl.

It wasn’t that he liked her. He would never like Y/N. She just helped manage the club, and Volleyball was just a sport. Besides, they’d never be that close again, never hug again, never exchange any affection at all, ever again.

He broke that promise fairly quickly. 

Yamaguchi had insisted that he and Tsukishima start joining the rest of the team on their walk home, mentioning how they could stop by Ukai’s convenience store and pick up some food if they so pleased. And maybe that was what convinced him— though Yamaguchi had a feeling the mention of Y/N’s name had a little bit of influence on the decision as well — maybe not. 

It didn’t take long for Tsukishima to realize that as everyone slowly branched off into their respective neighborhoods, Y/N had yet to do the same. Apparently she lived the farthest from Karasuno of the bunch, which is why Tanaka had tried to offer to walk her home. 

She’d rejected the idea entirely, seeing as he’d have to walk back home in the dark by the time she’d gotten to her home. The idea didn’t sit right with Y/N, so Tanaka had left Yamaguchi, Tsukishima and Y/N on their own. 

Y/N didn’t miss the look Yamaguchi gave Tsukishima as he remained by her side, tilting her head in confusion and the blonde waved his friend off and continued walking alongside Y/N. She decided it was best not to question it, they were already a questionable pair of friends and Y/N wouldn’t be shocked if they had some sort of secret code they communicated through.

When she suggested this of course, Tsukishima called her an idiot.

“That’s not very nice, Tsukki.”

If Tsukishima was honest he should’ve kept walking alongside Yamaguchi a while ago, and yet here he was, alongside Y/N. He was pretty grateful she had yet to mention it, especially since he didn’t really favor lying, and he didn’t really have an explanation as to why he decided to walk her home.

It just felt right. 

“Well it’s a stupid idea.” Came his response, nose scrunching up at the nickname. Only Yamaguchi called him that, not that he had a problem with Y/N using the nickname as well. 

Y/N raised a brow, “I don’t think so, you’re smart enough to make a secret code or something.” A smile found its way onto her face as she looked over to him, playfully bumping into his side as she continued, “you probably use it to write about conspiracy theories or something.” 

“I’m not a conspiracy theorist, Y/N.” He side eyes the girl, scoffing at her words as he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose in an attempt to distract from the warmth that flooded his chest. 

Y/N hummed in reply, looking to him as she asked, “so you don’t believe that lizard people run society?” 

Tsukishima’s brows furrowed as he looked to her incredulously, “absolutely not.” 

“Sounds like something a lizard person would say.” Came her reply, a grin on her face as she came to a stop, likely in front of her home. 

“Did you just suggest that I’m a lizard person?”

“Maybe.”

There was no way he liked Y/N L/N. In that moment, he made another promise to himself, Tsukishima Kei swore he would never like Y/N L/N, someone who was apparently a lizard person fanatic and insisted that he was a conspiracy theorist. 

A silence encompasses the two as Y/N looks up at him curiously, eyes falling over his face as a small hum leaves her lips. Tsukishima doesn’t know why exactly he lets it happen, why he lets her gently grab his chin, bringing him close to press a kiss to his cheek, “thanks for walking me home, Tsukki.” When she releases his face, she turns on her heel, heading toward her door, but not before saying, “try not to get home too late, and text Yamaguchi— he’s probably worried about you.” 

Okay, so maybe he would break this promise faster than last time. 

“This didn’t happen.” He manages to call out to her, watching as she makes her way down the cobblestone path to her front door. 

Y/N looks over her shoulder, a smirk on her face as she offers him a wave, “this didn’t happen!” She called back in agreement, stepping inside her home and shutting the door behind him. 

A lot faster than last time. 

He has no idea why he didn’t stop her the first time, when she asked. And he doesn’t know why he didn’t stop her now, or the next time, or the time after that. Tsukishima probably should’ve known better, he should’ve stopped indulging himself with her presence.

And yet sitting on his bed, lying on his side watching her, he knows there was no stopping this. Y/N is smirking, clearly noticing his gaze on her as she continues to silently read from her textbook, writing things down into her notebook on occasion. He almost gets frustrated at the sight, brows furrowing before he returns his eyes to his own textbook

Tsukishima probably would’ve finished a while ago had it not been for her, it’s not that Y/N had done anything, but her presence only served as a distraction at this point, leaving Tsukishima wondering just why he invited her. He can’t remember the reasoning behind his actions, but he has a feeling it wasn’t worth the lack of productivity that came with her visit. 

“Have you done anything?” 

As much as Tsukishima admired how observant Y/N was, he currently despised this trait of hers as he slammed the textbook shut, “yes.” It was a lie, Tsukishima had never been so unproductive in his life, and he hated it. He hated everything about this stupid project, especially the fact that she was his partner. 

A laugh escaped her, earning a glare from Tsukishima, “you’re so scary.” She says, though its clear she’s teasing him as she comes to pat his cheek condescendingly, accompanied by a mocking tone and an annoying smirk.

“Whatever.” He grumbles, tossing the textbook off the bed before falling back against his bed. 

Y/N hums, eyes falling over his figure as she nods to herself. “I see.”

Tsukishima scoffs at her words, lifting his head up to meet her gaze with a glare, “see what?”

Her grin only widens at his words as she shuts her own textbook, placing it on the nightstand beside her alongside her notebook before allowing herself to collapse into Tsukishima’s pillows. “You’re grumpy—” She turns to her side, lifting her arm up, “because you want a hug.”

Tsukishima looks at her incredulously, rolling his eyes as he brings his hands to his face, causing Y/N to lower her arm as she pouts. “You’re stupid.” He mumbles, watching her push up onto her elbows.

“And you’re a touch-starved grump.” Comes her reply, prying his hands form his forehead to gently remove his glasses, reaching over him to place it on the other nightstand before returning to her side of the bed. She lifts her arm once more, looking to Tsukishima expectantly. 

He inhales deeply, looking away in an attempt to maintain some of his pride when he feels his cheeks redden. “We have work to do.”

“The project isn’t due for another two weeks, Kei.” 

Tsukishima finds himself trying to glare at her, though it fails when he realizes she’s said his first name and he can’t bring himself to be upset anymore, simply saying, “this didn’t happen.” Before his arms come around her waist, Y/N’s arm that was once hovering above her now wrapped around his neck as she pulled him closer. Her other hand coming to tangle her fingers in his hair.

“This didn’t happen.” She repeated.

That day, he promises that the next time they meet, they’re actually going to get work done. He breaks this promise too, quickly realizing that this is a theme whenever the promises are related to Y/N.

Tsukishima doesn’t really realize that he’s in too deep until the day his lips crash against hers and he finds himself whispering those damned words once more, “this didn’t happen.” His hands running down her sides as he tries to pull her closer because whenever he’s around her that cold that plagues him day and night seems to fade, replaced the warmth she seems radiate as though she’s the sun.

He hates that he compares her to the sun, he hates that she’s become something he needs, a presence he craves, because Y/N L/N was meant to be nobody and now she seems to be one of the most important people in his life. He hates that she understands him, that she can read his every move better than he can, that she knows what he needs before he even says it. 

He doesn’t realize he’s in too deep until he’s promising himself not to fall in love.

Because for the first time in a while, Tsukishima Kei wants nothing more than to touch, he wants to feel, even though he’s filled with fear of the unknown, fear of the feelings he so desperately wanted to avoid. For once in his life, he wants to let go, because he finally feels comfortable enough to do so. 

This time all she says is, “I know.” 

Because Y/N knows that falling for Tsukishima was a mistake, a big one. She’s well aware of the fact that the boy is emotionally unavailable and renowned for his rude attitude and crude remarks. She knows that even if they have these silent moments together, even if she’s held him in her arms at night, even if they’ve been closer than she’s even been with anyone else, this basically means nothing. Because its not like either of them would ever do anything about the fact that the few words they did share in moments like these, weren’t ones of denial that the moments didn’t happen, but something else entirely at this point. 

Confessions in their own right. 

But she knows that all she’ll ever be, is something that didn’t happen. Not a story of his first love, not the girl he talks about with his friends, not the one he thinks about, the one he saw in everyday life. She was nobody, because she didn’t happen.

She doesn’t know that she’s wrong. Very wrong. That Tsukishima spoke fondly of her— honestly, Yamaguchi loves Y/N, he really does, but he’d getting a bit tired of hearing about how the mundane things she does that Tsukishima happens to notice. That he thought of her frequently, that the smell of coffee reminded him of her now, that the sight of the sunset she fawned over every time they walked home together only served as a reminder of her.

It’s not until he’s crying out in victory because they beat Shiratorizawa, Karasuno won, he won. It’s not until he’s so overwhelmed with emotion that he finds his legs moving on their own, towards Y/N; who stands beside Ukai and Takeda, the pair had taken to screaming at each other in the midst of their excitement. It’s not until his hands are on her face, bringing her into a kiss, much to her surprise, that he realizes what exactly the warmth was.

“This didn’t happen?” She asks, trying her hardest to ignore the stares of the team—though many of them are still caught up in their own celebration— as she looks to him. 

Tsukishima simply grins, “I didn’t say that.” 

A/N: kei is my favorite person to write for and i cannot explain why and this has not been edited so oops

tags: @beifongsss @shawkneecaps @iwaizoom @therainroguefanfiction​

[pastelsandpining]

Zelink Week Day 4: Trust

broken | forged

Masterlist | Zelink Week List

words: 1086

summary: The Hero and the Princess catch up after Ganon’s defeat and Midna’s departure.

what’s characterization bc friend idk. country link superiority

Twilight Princess - post-game

@zelinkweek2021

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

Princess Zelda became very grateful that the grand garden was one of the least guarded places in the castle. Being in the courtyard, it was visible from all balcony posts, yet there were areas, however small, where the hedges towered just tall enough to shield them from view.

But for good measure, they were also seated on a bench. She knew the men stationed everywhere in the castle were only doing their jobs, but there were times she craved privacy that wasn’t provided solely by her bedroom or office. Just once, she would like to walk the grounds of the castle without eyes locked on and following her. Her council and the people of Hyrule surely would have plenty to say if they could see her right now, using her plans for restoration as an excuse to see and spend time with their dearest Hero of Twilight.

Their perfect princess, who sat far too close to him with a gloved hand pressed over her mouth to hide her laughter, acting so irresponsibly was unheard of.

“—she promised me that it was all I had to do, that it was some sorta twilight barrier, but that wall didn’t budge. I guess I should’a expected something was up. I felt real stupid afterwards, too. She got a good laugh out of it, and I got a bump that lasted ‘bout a week. I still have the headache.”

Zelda lowered her hand when her giggles subsided.

“I’m rather surprised Midna hadn’t tried worse. But I suppose she thought it best to keep our Hero in one piece,” she said, raising her fingers to brush his bangs aside. “No mark remains now.”

“She got me to do all sorts of ridiculous stuff for her own entertainment. Every time I thought I’d caught on..”

“Even princesses need to have a little fun. It’s just a shame it had to be at your expense.”

She felt so warm and comfortable next to Link, sitting under the rays of the sun. They’d come so far in so few months, and speaking so openly about Midna was therapeutic—healing, in a way. She’d taken a part of both of them when she left. It had been a sore topic for a while, but now here they sat, exchanging stories under a beautiful blue sky.

“Did she ever do any of that to you, or was I just special?” he asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You are special for numerous reasons,” she replied and folded her hands on her lap. “But you were not the sole victim of Midna's tricks. We shared the feeling of imprisonment, and eventually, we grew close enough for her to make me a target too. Though her best by far was when she told me she’d found the Hero, and brought me a wolf.”

Link’s pout was enough to make her suppress another laugh, though the ends of her mouth were pulled up into a smile.

“That ain’t fair,” he said, crossing his arms. “And that was just in the twilight.”

“Perhaps, but I like to imagine the look on Ganondorf’s face if you had shown up as the Twilight Beast.”

“He wouldn’t have been phased. Bastard probably kicked puppies for fun.”

Zelda pressed a hand to her chest and looked at Link with wide eyes.

“No one could be that cruel,” she joked, leaning away from him.

“Darlin’, yes he could. And I didn’t hit him hard enough.”

She had to fight back a smile. Every time he called her “darling” in his little accent, she felt so light and fuzzy. But she figured it was an expression everyone in Ordon used, so she never thought too hard about it.

“Well, if he somehow ever shows himself again, you can have a rematch. Although this time, I’d enjoy sticking my heels into his eyes.”

“I, for one, would love to see that,” Link replied, offering her a smile. And then his hand was gently holding her arm, his blue eyes fixated on her. “And how are you doin’, Princess? It’s only fair we check up on you too.”

“I’m doing just fine, thank you,” she answered with a small smile in return. Link’s eyebrow quirked up.

“And is that the truth?”

Zelda ducked her head to hide the widening of her smile. How could she not, when things were looking up? When she felt cared about in a way far more intimate than the respect her people held for her? She placed a hand on top of his and patted it twice.

“I’m managing about as well as everyone else,” she admitted with a light shrug. “But you needn’t worry about me, dear Hero.”

“Someone ought’ta,” he argued, giving her a look that said he didn’t quite believe her words.

“I appreciate it, truly. I just don’t wish to cause any trouble,” she told him.

“It’s no trouble at all, darlin’.” He seemed to realize what he’d said and lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, maybe I should stop sayin’ that.”

“I don’t mind,” Zelda assured him with a small smile. “In all honesty, I missed this. The casualty of friendship, I mean.”

And the interactions she could have with someone she truly enjoyed being around. She hadn’t had that until she met Midna, and Midna was gone. Link offered her a smile. There was a gleam in his eyes that she had to look away from.

“Can I trust you with somethin’?” he asked, leaning a little closer.

“Of course,” she assured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Anything.”

“I’m runnin’ from somethin’. I dunno what it is. Being lonely, maybe? Everyone back in Ordon--they see me different. It’s like they don’t even know me, and that’s... I like it here, where I get to... restart, almost, and I wanna thank you for that opportunity.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Link,” Zelda replied and gave his hand another squeeze. “You’ve done so much for Hyrule and the least you deserve is peace and a friend. I’m flattered you trust me enough to confide this in me.”

“I think you make for a pretty good friend.”

Link was smiling at her, soft and relieved like he’d gotten something off of his chest. She ducked her head and leaned backwards with a smile of her own, because if she looked at him any longer, she might’ve doomed herself to embarrassment by leaning in.

No need to ruin the blooming trust between them.

[wh6res]

spectator | jeno

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet." — ljn

TW mafia au, blood, violence, mentions of prostitution and brothels, mentions of past torture, extreme power imbalance, dumbification, they used a tranquilizer

A/N first half is told in renjun's pov also this is for dino anon hehe thank u for the inspo babes!!

DISC i don't condone anything. this isn't love.

WC 1.4k

renjun was fairly new to the mafia but it didn't take him long to realize the outrageous things they considered are the norms here. one of the first things he noticed is a cute little bunny dressed in scraps that always seemed to tail jeno wherever he went. jeno was his superior, albeit they were the same age, so it sucked that renjun had to use honorifics.

oftentimes he ignores you when jeno stands before him giving orders, or when they pass by each other in the hallways and stop to exchange pleasantries.

as renjun quickly climbed the ranks thanks to his agility and cunning mind, you, unfortunately, remained in the same position—always sitting by jeno's feet like a puppy, a body, a plaything, a whore. there were rumors that the boss gave his executives a chance to pick from the litters before they're shipped off to brothels, kind of like peace offerings in exchange for their compliance.

people said the stoic, muscular young man never really indulged himself in such temporary matters. until probably two years ago, until jeno first laid his eyes on you and decided then and there you were too pretty to become a random whore in the chain of brothels the mafia owned. the petite boy believes maybe it's a disguised blessing on your part, at least you'd only have to deal with one man every night, right?

renjun can only look at you from afar, keeping in mind not to stare too openly nor too intrusively that your owner notices. he's seen the bruises. the purple and black patches of your skin and renjun never gets used to it. his stomach turning at the idea of jeno deliberately marking your skin where the oversized shirt you wear won't be able to cover. the chinese immigrant would be stupid not to notice what that meant—it's jeno's clear sign of dominance, of the severe power imbalance, and not a single man in this building can stop him from doing whatever he wants to you.

renjun managed to piece things together thanks to his naturally observant nature. jeno never punished you for what you did, he punished you because he knows he can't touch his subordinates for something measly such as bumping or staring at his whore. the young mafia executive decides to take it out on you instead, albeit the flawed logic and unfairness of it all—proof that every person in this criminal organization is fucked up in the head.

despite jeno's maltreatment, renjun never heard a single complaint from you nor can he detect a feeling of rebellion out of you. you were so eerily compliant that the chinese can't help but think of what other horrible means jeno did for you to become so broken. renjun tried thinking about it, once, but never again. he can be cruel if he wants to be, but not without purpose. not because he gets a kick out of seeing a face twisted in terror. he wasn't like jeno, who smiled and laghed after blowing someone's brain up in the mafia's torture rooms.

this is why jeno is the only man fit for the job, the reason he became an executive at such a young age—there's no man he can't break for information. renjun doesn't know what jeno does to the poor people in the torture rooms but the piercing screams are enough to decide never to go against his superior.

renjun never thought he'll live the day to hear your screams coming from one of those rooms.

"what?" he does a double-take, eyes wide and unbelieving. "what do you mean she's in there? that's her, right now?"

haechan shrugs, wincing when he hears another scream coming from inside the room. he'll never know why these rooms aren't soundproof, maybe it was a way for jeno to keep his subordinates in line—"hear that? just be grateful that's not you."—you wouldn't want to cross a man who has no moral compass. "yeah. i heard she tried to escape."

renjun doesn't like the cool, amused smirk on haechan's face as he leaned back against the door, looking like everything is okay when it's not. "heard she got like… what, ten feet? give or take—yeah, i think ten feet out the door before jaemin's men tranqed her so much she would have slept for a week."

it was easy for renjun to detach himself, disregard his own set of beliefs and sweep them all under the pretense of "it's just work, nothing personal" but with you, it felt different. he knows you. well, knows of you. it's different, personal even, when he can match a face to those gruesome, ear-shattering screams that wracked through his bones.

he wanted to help you.

renjun wanted to help you.

but no, he didn't want to get shot in the head for insubordination.

jeno manually props you against the wall, cringing at the trail of blood that stains the tiles and pools underneath you. your shirt—rather, jeno's—was soaked through with the crimson liquid, your hair sticking to the side of your head. it feels like you were burning from the inside with every breath you take.

maybe months, years, of compliance made you forgetful. after all, jeno is a man of his word, through and through. he can only threaten you so much until he snaps. maybe he deemed the swift punishments and his harsh words insufficient. but who were you kidding? with the stunt you pulled… fuck, why did you even think of making a run for it? you should've known you won't even make it across the street! stupid. stupid. stupid.

you swore never to make him angry enough to bring you back down here in the torture chambers—this is his domain, and you shivered in fear with every fleeting thought you have about what he does behind those cement walls.

the first time jeno took you down here had been granted by the boss himself (see, the man running the mafia has favorites). jeno's men held you by the arms and made you watch as he killed a poor guy with his bare hands. slowly, excruciatingly, bleeding out because of the wounds jeno inflicted with his fists alone.

the second time was because of your first escape attempt. ah, you had been so energetic back then. always talking back, snarling and cursing him out. after that second time, you've become more compliant and have thoroughly embodied whatever sick fantasy jeno had of you. his broken doll, unseeing, unthinking, who breathes and lives only because he wanted her to.

you've heard him countless times say how much he missed that energetic personality you had. but only because you knew at least then he'd think the cruel punishments are justified.

oftentimes, he'll say it when you two are alone, in his room at headquarters, too disgustingly intimate like lovers and not a whore and her owner. his cold lips leavees a sweet trail on your neck, blood-stained hands soiling your skin underneath the dirty shirt, before finally slotting himself next to you as the cot creaks with the extra weight. he reeked of sweat and metallic and his eyes hazy from that post-bloodlust high.

jeno's boots squelch when he steps closer. never crouching, he wanted you to feel that severe power imbalance between the two of you.

"i won't ask you to apologize. not when i know you don't mean it."

you don't bother to reply. not because you don't want to but because you can't, voice utterly hoarse and scratchy from screaming while jeno breaks and tears you down as if he doesn't whisper the words i love you at night. you're his lover only when he needs you to be. sad, that he rarely felt the need of a lover and more so needed a cunny to fuck.

finally, he crouches. slow and never breaking eye contact. he raises a hand to push a strand of hair away from your face probably. you flinch. he doesn't care. "jeno, please don't touch me." but he touches you anyway.

you feel the callouses in his palms as he caresses your face. the calm before the storm. the deep inhale before the plunge. jeno grabs your chin and tilts your head up, a serene smile ghosting his lips. he looked at peace. satisfied. and you have never been more scared of him than you ever did in the last four years.

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet."

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[lunawritingspaceoxoxxx]

Unresponsive

Damiano David

 “You know I’m never too busy for you, amore, just because I’m in the studio doesn’t mean I’m not missing you.”

“Jennie, I know...I know, it’s just that I thought that we were going to spend time together when I  landed in Rome, just the two of us. Not bar hopping until 3 am and sleeping in until noon.” Sighing as you looked through your luggage. “You’re dating a rockstar, Y/N, what do you expect? Roses and midnight stroll, they’re going to continue to drink until the morning. That’s what I faced when I was still dating him, just be open with him, what’s the worst that could happen?” “Jennie, Damiano is different from your shitty ex. He’s like the sun, people gravitate towards him and they can’t get enough of him. Why can't I get just a slice of that?” Glancing towards a mirror, seeing your exhausted eyes looking back at you. “Y/N, if you’re insecure about this, why stay with him? It wasn’t like this before you came to Rome.” “Jennie, you can do me a big favor and shut the fuck up, we’ve been dating for almost two years now. It’s different when it’s a long distance relationship. This is my first relationship, I'm going to have my fears and concerns.” Y/N ended the call, tossing your phone to the side, flopping onto the bed.

 “Amore, good morning for once.” Speaking of the devil, He strutted through your hotel room, tackling you onto the bed as he peppered kisses across your soft skin. Y/N’s giggles filled the room as your previous mood melted away. “So we did filming early today, so we could spend some time together tonight.” Damiano said, pushing a cup of coffee in your hands. You gingerly took a sip of the overly sweet caffeine as you raised your eyebrow at him. “Seriously? No bar hopping tonight?” Damiano shook his head as he stripped out of his shirt and shoes, fully getting comfortable. “Why did you ask that? Did you want to go bar hopping instead?” You shook your head, frowning slightly as you glanced at your suitcase. “I really didn’t bring going out to dinner clothes at all, mostly shorts and tank tops. I thought you were too busy to spare some time for us.” You laid on his chest, tracing small circles onto his abdomen, enjoying this small time together. “You know I’m never too busy for you, amore, just because I’m in the studio doesn’t mean I’m not missing you.” Y/N stayed silent, holding back your tongue; you didn’t want to cause problems on your month-long vacation. You just wanted to spend any time together without fighting about petty small issues. Damiano gave you a knowing look as he sat up, facing you. “Something’s bothering you, lay it on me, tell me everything that’s been bothering you,

“Damiano, when you invited me here, I thought we were going to spend time together and show me hidden parts of Rome, but now I spent almost two weeks getting drunk and sleeping in, I could’ve done that at home. I could’ve been working on my art right now, but I'm here drinking lukewarm coffee to nurse my hangover and your version of spending time together getting wasted in my hotel room, am I wrong?” You crossed your arms and Damiano rolled his eyes, sitting up. “You could’ve been grateful that I’m inviting you out and bringing you along with my friends. I had to beg them to allow me to invite you along because according to them, you’re just an annoying little American who’s spoiled and cries about what you didn’t get.” Your eyes widened, bottom lip trembling as you tried not to cry in front of him. “And you know what, leave then and I’ll go back home. I’ll send back all of your gifts and clothes, if that’s how you really feel about me then and I won’t bother you with my presence anymore.” You began tossing random articles of clothing into your suitcase, trying not to show any emotions. You wouldn’t give Damiano that satisfaction of your heart breaking into a million pieces right in front of his eyes. “Amore..Don’t be like that, you know that I didn’t mean it..c’mere…” You shrugged off his attempted hugs, while you walked around and gathered your belongings. Your biggest fears came true, that he didn’t love you the way you did and you were a placeholder, until he found something better than you. “No, I don’t, you’re so closed off from me that I’ve just come to terms with it. I’m going to go and take a walk, to get out of this...room and when I get back, you better be gone or I’ll call the authorities and it won’t be fun after that.” You threatened before you slammed the door. You rushed through the lobby, ignoring the stares, cursing as you looked back. “Damiano! Leave me alone! I want nothing to do with you!” He chased after you, ignoring the growing attention on you two. “Amore-” “I’m not your love anymore! I’m done with you, this trip only brought out the true nature of yourself, you don’t want to put any effort in a relationship and you let it become toxic, so you can thrive off of your partner’s misery.” You shouted, jabbing him the chest as you finally let go of the tears, openly sobbing in the lobby. You were hurting from putting effort into something so toxic for you, made you question yourself. “And I can't do this anymore, for the sake of myself.”  Damiano tried reaching for you, but you moved from his grasp, hurt flashes across his eyes. “...I stayed in this relationship because I love you, I’m sorry for saying those cruel words. I didn’t mean those and I shouldn't have said anything like that, you’re the light of my life-” You rolled your eyes absolutely done with his sugar coated lies. “Damiano, you told me that six months ago, we argued about this before, I told you that we were done if you spoke out of line with me and look, it happened again.”

Damiano sighed as he knew you were right, you really never voiced your frustrations until you knew you were at breaking point. “I know I fucked up, but what can I do to make this better? I would do anything for you and you know this.” “I just want some time alone, to focus on myself and figure out what I want. I don’t think that I could deal with this on top of your daily nonsense.” Paparazzi stepped into the lobby, making you flinch as they took hundreds of pictures. “Let’s go back up to your room and we can discuss this, basta con le foto(stop with the photos).” He faced the paparazzi, cursing underneath his breath as he tried pulling you into the elevator, but you kept resisting until you slipped from his grasp and made your way onto the busy street. You knew you were being dramatic, but catering for someone and their needs was mentally draining especially if you’ve been sacrificing yours in the process. “Y/N! Wait!” You stopped, doing a full 360 as you came face to face with Vic. You kept pushing yourself as you duck between alleyways, cursing yourself in the process. You’re in a strange country, hundreds and thousands of miles away from home and you feel like you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and decided to make a fool of yourself. You wheezed as you looked around the plaza, before you just accepted your fate as you walked past the couples and children. You sighed as you flopped down onto the fountain's edge, rubbing your face. You sniffed as you broke down, sobbing as you finally just had enough of everything. 

You knew what you getting into, but you thought that you could look past all of the bad because Damiano was so exciting and always gave you a rush of adrenaline as they did scandalous things, but you could tell that he had the experience that you didn't have and that worried you to the point where it affected your sleep. You decided to explore the city, not wanting to stay in one place. You always wanted to travel the world and focus on your art, you felt at peace when you were in your studio and that love slowly faded as your relationship with Damiano started to take a turn. He was the one who pushed you to pursue this outlandish dream of yours and that started to become a reality when commissions started coming in and those same commissions were able to pay for this trip. “Congratulations, Y/N, you’re going to go home early and cry into that Ben & Jerry’s that you left for yourself.” The sun slowly went down as time went on, you decided to walk back to your hotel as you booked yourself a ticket back home. 

“Damiano, what happened today? Y/N is all-” He interrupted her with the wave of his hand, not wanting to get into everything.“It’s my fault, Vic, I knew I wasn’t treating her right and I brought her all the way here to get drunk and sleep in until noon. They knew that as well and called me out on it and now, they’re off somewhere.” Vic frowned at his current state, knowing the next couple of weeks are going to be rough. “Damiano, it’s okay, they’re probably going to come around sooner than later, they’ve dealt with you for this long. Why would they give up now?” Vic had a point, Y/N had dealt with his bullshit for so long and he thought that he was safe to do anything and everything, but this was before this trip, before they facetimed and wrote letters, everything was...different. Damiano didn’t have them closeby and ready to do anything with him, he went through the motions of his lifestyle and from the band’s perspective, Y/N seemed dramatic, but they’ve only seen the scandals of him getting into trouble. They’ve been there for his lows and highs, yet, he couldn’t say the same for them. “They are….they were so fed up and tired of my bullshit and they’re going home, I don’t know when though.” Vic narrowed her eyes, shaking her head as she couldn’t comprehend why he was here and not with them. “So you’re giving up then? You’ve worked through this before, why is it different than before? Do you not want to put any effort into the relationship?” 

When Y/N wanted out, they would do anything to do so. They leaned against the wall of their boarding area as they tried staying up, being mentally drained can affect your entire body. They tapped away on their phone as they replied to messages and concerns, planning their next collection piece. To Y/N L/N…. Their eyes got wide as they read through the invitation multiple times, trying to make sure that this was legit. They didn’t care if this was a smaller, unknown art museum that wanted to showcase unseen artwork. They knew that it couldn’t be anything, it had to be personal and true to them. They pulled out a random napkin, doodling some ideas down as they waited. ‘Damiano would’ve been proud of me…’ They thought as they quickly stuffed the napkin in their pocket. Were they really going to do this? Running away after one bad fight, maybe he was right, that they were overdramatic and needy. They wiped their eyes before they mentally prepared  themselves before gathering their things and got ready to depart. Maybe this will be good for us, time away and focusing on ourselves… 

[notcaptainhook]

unrequited love/jealousy [childe]

a/n: thank you for your request, anon. this one's about angsty childe watching s/o love someone else, the one and only captain of the crux. happy reading!

(warning: blood, angst, pda, one-sided pining, unrequited love, obsession, uhmmm?)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you could feel the corded muscles tightly wound around your waist whenever beidou unnecessarily steered you away from the sleazy-eyed crowd that sometimes frequented the liyue harbor at night. you could sense her annoyance at the fleeting glances stolen your way in the way her fingers dug into your shoulders to stop you from bumping into a middle-aged man who had one too many drinks, and you could feel it all fade the moment your hand gently pressed against her cheek, and you watched the sea-god slaying pirate turn into the love of your life, melting in the palm of your hand, vulnerable in the midst of the loudest of crowds — clearly you’d not been to mondstat, she joked near your ear, before nipping at your lobe, teeth latching on hungrily. you giggled, feeling slightly self-conscious to be on the receiving end of her avid affection so openly, but beidou was never one for discretion, and you were feeling extremely grateful to have her in your arms again.

across the street, quietly observing from the toy stall and obscured by an orange kite, was childe. his jaw was set as devoid blues gazed longingly at your beaming face. something burned at the bottomless pits of his belly, incessantly flaming and raging, fire growing the more he watched as the captain of the crux doted on you with a smirk that should’ve been carved across his lips; her grubby rough hands taunting him, because those should’ve been his arms around you, his mouth on you. and that smitten gaze you held for the woman should’ve been directed at him.

a sour taste in his mouth, in spite of the sweet apple candy he was sucking on, brought him back as blood mixed in with sugar from how hard he’d bit on the inside of his cheek.

thoughtlessly, childe forced his way through the heavy bodies of bystanders, until he stood so close he could smell the lavender scent of your hair, and it almost soothed his demons as he closed his eyes and sucked in the air around you, but then he opened them and saw beidou squaring up before you, protecting what could’ve been his.

“what do you want, harbinger?” she asked harshly, her mellow expression replaced by gritted teeth and furrowed brows.

childe did not even hear the captain, his hand reached for your wrist instinctively, but the fire blazed when your face twisted in fear and you flinched away from his touch.

“childe, what are you doing?” the way your voice quaked sent a shiver down his spine. did you really believe he would hurt you?

he couldn’t understand what you saw in the pirate. he couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much. he just knew he had to take you away from beidou and at least explain himself.

“i want to talk to you,” he said quietly, arms crossing over his chest in what he didn’t realize was a defensive stance. “please,” he added when he noticed your quirked brow.

“they’ve nothing to say to you,” beidou argued, physically stepping in front of you, acting as a shield between you and childe.

the torn look on childe’s face made you take a step forward, giving beidou’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “give us a minute, love,” you whispered to her, and when she wouldn’t back down, you added lightly, “you know i can take him, right?”

ruby eyes studied your face for any doubts, before softening as she backed away to give you your space.

“you nearly destroyed liyue harbor,” you started matter-of-factly. “i am beyond angry at you,” you felt it was necessary to drive your point across, “if it weren’t for traveler, the adepti and qixing— we would all be dead. do you understand that?”

childe took in a sharp breath. “what are you doing with that brute?”

you blinked your surprise away, your face twisting with anger, “what does that have to do with anything? answer my questions, childe. i thought you were my friend—”

“i never agreed to a friendship,” he said coldly, and you swallowed your disappointment, standing frozen as he raised his hands to cup your face, “i always wanted more than that.”

you slapped them away and heard him hiss at the rejection. “i never strung you along. i’ve always... loved her,” you said as gently as you could.

childe’s lips quirked into a cruel smirk, one that made your stomach turn, “you think she could protect you? she wasn’t even here when osial was released. i was there. i was right outside your door—”

“enough, childe. beidou would’ve never put my life in danger to begin with.”

the rueful smile you gave him was the last strike to his ego. his hold on your arm was like iron as he started to drag you away. you began to push against his hold, noticing beidou rushing towards you to interfere, but you shook your head at her.

picking up your pace, you swiftly passed childe. with your free hand, you packed a punch and struck his jaw, staggering him into releasing you as he dropped to the ground.

“i don’t ever want to see you again,” there was a storm brewing beneath your calm, and even though it excited him, childe heard the finality in your voice as he stood there accepting defeat.

he always knew when to retreat in order to grow his strength.

word count: 906

[pseudofaux]

Omg I just saw your harr breeding kink drabble and to say I am obsessed with it is an understatement... would you pretty please with a cherry onto write other one but with Leonardo from Ikevamp please????❤️❤️❤️

:}

Thank you for your kind words about the Harr one, please enjoy this Leo! Because he’s LEO, with those LEO hangups (bless him), this turned out a little more on the romantic side, but I think it’s got some of the frenzy and intention that make breeding kink so hot. Lots and lots of soft banter and tender passion, too. I really hope it will work for you!

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

The way his eyes slowly close as he pushes into her reminds her of the astrolabe he likes to tinker with, the slender glow of gold moving beyond the reach of light. He mutters the name of a saint when he bottoms out and comes back down to her mouth.

He’s relentless today. As if it must happen on this first try. It made her laugh when they fell onto the bed together, but she can’t laugh now, not with his tongue swiping those wide stripes up either side of her while he fucks her open with his thumbs.

“Rumorosa,” he chides approvingly, mouth flat against her. “Let it all out. Don’t hold anything back.”

Like she could!

He’s got her spread shamelessly wide, but Leonardo makes her feel so treasured and safe that there she is, kind of loving this. Definitely loving his tongue. He feels the same way all his bouquets of meadow and cobblestone flowers do against her cheek, the softest and most pleasurable touch nature can provide.

“Got to get you ready, cara,” he says, and then gives her another wide lick, straight up and lasting. When he’s finally done with that agonizing holdout over her clit, he asks “You think you’re ready?”

She hums out an mmmmm so long it puts his lick to shame. He likes that enough to laugh. He’s laughing so much about all of this, so grateful and joyful, and she loves to see him be so happy. It polishes him beautifully and makes him shine, like he is shaking off his own dust. When he shrugged off his shirt earlier she swore his shoulders were glowing as he revealed them.

“I love you,” she whispers, feeling a bit small in the face of all these emotions, all this love. All this hope. He stills as soon as he processes her words, tongue against her again, one thumb just about to escape her body.

“I’d guessed that,” he says warmly, and gives her a tender kiss instead of the sensual lick she expected. “No one has ever been so generous, you know, this probably isn’t good for you.”

She can hear how he tries to make it a joke, and she puts her hands in his hair and tugs to correct him. “This is what we both want,” she reminds him. “Don’t you dare use that mind to be shifty now. Love me.” Quieter, she adds “Give me a baby, you fool.”

His hair is cloud soft and cat sleek against her thighs as he groans and kisses her firmly against her slit. His face must be a mess, but that’s nothing new.

“Baby, huh?” he says when he seems to have his composure back. She swears she can hear how his mouth is wet and his voice is a touch more gravelly than usual. “Cara mia wants a baby?” He’s using his elbows and knees to come up either side of her body on the tiny bed in his room. They’ve been through so much here, this piece of furniture has seen so many of their tears and trembles and confessions. Rarely has he been so gloriously naked as he is now. She loves how much of him she can feel. He is so perfectly warm and good to touch, she wants to grab him everywhere.

“I want your baby,” she says pointedly, rubbing her thighs together. He licked up a lot of her, but smeared just as much of her arousal around like some kind of conception spell. Leonardo has a touch of the mystic in him about all of this.

“I want to give it to you,” he growls as his face reaches hers. His palms slide along the insides of her hands and keep them on the mattress while he tilts her chin up with his nose so he can kiss her. “Damn, I want to give it to you,” he breathes against her lips. And then he grinds against her, shameless, and puts his tongue in her mouth just to tease her with what he’s not putting inside her.

She doesn’t know her own taste without the feel and flavor of his tongue anymore. He has made her very, very used to him. Now she gets a latent note of the sweetness of his cigarillos, like a memory under the flavor of her in his mouth. She yanks one hand free so she can slide it along his naked back in the same slow way he is kissing her. Serves him right.

He nips at her bottom lip so gently it gives her goosebumps from the heart-swelling tenderness. The kindness in this man is boundless. He moves to her ear so his whisper hits her like a velvet-wrapped sledge. “You sure about this here?” he asks. “Not somewhere... fancier?”

She knows he’s not asking about their location at all. “Do you want to stop?” she asks smugly. And he laughs, because these days they are used to the way she puts him on the right track.

“I can’t see why you’d think I am that cruel to you,” he murmurs, dragging the tip of that damn tongue up her throat in a powerful line of want that feels like it goes down beyond her toes. They are grinding against each other but it’s still slow, just their bodies finding the soft places where they give, where they can rest in each other.

“Hurry up before I get cruel,” she warns him, pressing a few of her nails into the swell of his back. It’s rare for a person to get close enough to a vampire to learn how supple their skin is, even if they chain smoke and don’t look after themselves well and occasionally drink paint water. The suppleness is real though, and the give of him under her nails makes them moan together.

“I want to call you a cruel mother, but I can’t yet.” He is more sober but still smiling.

“Maybe you can in a year,” she offers, releasing the press so she can stroke him with her nails instead. Light scratches, to soothe his nerves. His body moves into the touch like it always does. Catlike, sensual man.

“A mother, maybe,” he says, shifting his hips between hers, “But never cruel.”

His cock is so strong he doesn’t have to take himself in hand. He squeezes the hand of hers that he’s holding and uses his other to take her by the chin as he leans back slightly and fits himself against the space where he must go, if they’re going to do this. “You’re sure,” he says, a statement with some suspicion, but not a question.

She holds his gaze and nods. His eyes narrow but she sees the brilliant, timeless gold of them. “Do it,” she whispers. She doesn’t want to dare him but she has to show him her confidence or his might be lost, even in this, this thing he wants so very much. So she adds, challenge as light as her touch, “Give me a baby.”

The way his eyes slowly close as he pushes into her reminds her of the astrolabe he likes to tinker with, the slender glow of gold moving beyond the reach of light. He mutters the name of a saint when he bottoms out and comes back down to her mouth.

She’s tempted to tease him again, but this is a very special moment so she saves the feeling for a rainy day. This day is too beautiful and golden for it, his kiss to precious and profound. She does say, voice less sound than breath, “That’s it.”

His breath is a hiss, and he flexes inside her like a pulse of strength-- less than when he does it on purpose. “I know ‘that’s it,’ signora, you need me to show you?”

“That’s what I’m waiting for,” she tells him, unable to help herself when he literally asks for it. He teases her so much he definitely deserves this, and she’s hoping the banter will keep his mood clear of melancholy.

He makes some sound between a grunt and a sigh, with all the self-assurance of a more articulate declaration, and pulls his hips back.

“You want me to give it to you?” he murmurs. His voice is so low she tightens around his tip and wishes she were tightening around more of him. So she says yes, because she does want that. And she knows he does, too, he’s just scared of what he wants most.

Another of those grunt-sighs. “Guess I better, then,” he says, and slides home again. He’s slow about it, and he keeps his mouth right above hers so every way her lips tremble around her wordless cry make them move against him. “Better fill you up in every way, yeah?” He grinds against her, making her feel the deep, pleasurable fullness. He’s so perfect inside, she loves this man and his heart and his mind and everything that he is, but god, his cock in her is--

Leonardo’s groan is loud, much louder than usual, and then his voice is softer. “Should just be fucking you all the time anyway,” he mumbles. “This body was made to make children, you feel like heaven.”

It’s not as smooth as his usual lines, but he says it so openly she can feel her face getting hot. She won’t even try to say anything, she just squeezes his hand and presses her palm into his back and begs him with her body to please, please do it already.

And then he starts. Slow and deep, but every quality rising with the might of the sun itself. He uses his strength for once, so much that the only laziness is his warm voice between kisses.

“Fucking you,” he murmurs. “Putting a child in you.”

“Yes,” she hisses. He’s dragging himself along her top wall, using his strength to press up while he’s inside and make her legs and voice and everything about her feel like she is quaking. She is pushing her hips up to meet him, craving that carnal bump inside when he’s as deep as he can go, craving everything he’s going to give her.

Then he begins to pick up speed, not so fast she can’t keep up at all but much, much faster. He’s scooped his free hand under the back of her head to keep her in place for kisses, and he’s certainly giving her those, lots of kisses and lots of words. They pepper all the movements, spicy and tenderly dreamy all at once.

“This is going to change everything,” he whispers. “You’ll be full of me for months and then there will be a child. Carina piccola,” he says thickly. “You want a girl to give us trouble?”

She moans. There is no preference in her mind beyond their family growing. She just wants to be with him and be happy together.

He lowers his voice to a whisper again. “Maybe we should have more than one, you think?”

...She does now. All that work he did on her made her so ready for him. “Whatever you want,” she begs, before he can start talking again. He shushes her and very gently pulls at the hair behind her head.

“You gonna let me have this?”

“Yes,” she hisses again as he cradles her scalp once more. She’s not sure if he is testing her or teasing her with all the sought reassurances.

“Then I’m gonna take it,” he promises solemnly. He kisses her and grinds once more, so forcefully that the little bedframe-- well made, but only wood, after all-- creaks. “Not a good enough man not to,” he chuckles. She tries to shush him but he’s already sucking at her neck at that weak spot where the muscle joins her jaw, so she’s quickly sighing out little panting moans over how well he knows her, so she is too occupied to say anything.

Meanwhile he keeps talking. “Gonna fill you until you leak,” he tells her as he pulls back. “Until it splashes out of you, messy girl. Until there’s no chance your womb will be empty.” His thrusts are smooth and they are strong. Dependable. She believes him and she cries out his name even though what she’s calling out for is what he’s making her want.

He only feels good but she swears his strength is moving in her hard enough to scrape her insides. Then his teeth do scrape her, that paper-thin trail of fiery bliss flaring bright and making her wail again as he keeps right on fucking her. “Crying like a baby, now?” he teases, but the words are thick. He’s already thinking about late nights of exhaustion and the way they’ll endure. She can hear the way he’s half with her, pressing her into his mattress, and half in his dreams, pressing kisses to a precious newborn’s tiny fists.

“You’re the only woman,” he tells her passionately, “That I have ever--” he gulps.

She squeezes him again. She already knows this. “Stop holding back,” she whispers.

He groans twice, grips her hand so hard she feels the muscles of his palm, and then pushes himself so far into her that she feels the heat of the sheets under her and the warning of the headboard.

“Alright,” he mutters. “I’ll be good to you, I promise. So good, for this gift, both of you.” He is kissing her all along her throat like he’s trying to soothe the sweet burn he put there with his teeth. One day, she thinks. Soon. You’ll put your fangs in, Leonardo da Vinci. She keeps the thought as long as she can before his purposeful fucking lovingly batters it out of her brain like a freed butterfly.

“You gonna take what I give you?” he hisses, bringing her back into the moment. “Every drop, cara mia? Take it in. Take it. And then I’m gonna fold you up after this and do it all over again.”

His words shoot through her like wine on an empty stomach. That is exactly what she wants, for him to run after this purpose with all the single-mindedness his genius allows them. She swears beside his ear, lustful and permissive.

“Yeah? You like that, avida? Maybe I’ll turn you over when I’m done and make it three times to be safe and sure.”

There is nothing safe about the way her body shudders at the thought. From behind he always ruins her, especially when she’s already swollen and blissed out from all the ways he has touched her. She can imagine the way his cum will dribble out of her, lazy as he is, and the way he’ll look close and blow a little breath on her weeping slit just to mess with her for not keeping it inside.

Because he is Leonardo, or perhaps because he’s the devil, he slows. He brings the hand he’s clasping to his mouth to kiss, and then lets it go and slips the hand down and around her body, until he’s got her by the back. He’s wrapped around her, the other hand still firm at the back of her head, this new one angling her hips up just a little more for him.

“Almost,” he grits out, and though he may be the devil she wishes she could bless him when he speeds back up without further comment. The way he has tilted her makes her yelp, the sound so vulnerable and silly she would cringe if she were not so protected by the man who brought it out of her.

But he did bring it out of her, so he laughs, because he loves to put her offguard. “Sweet, so sweet, god, cara--moan for me while I make you a mother,” he tells.

She can feel how his arm is sweaty behind her, strong and slippery against her back. He’s got her right where he wants her, she knows she is mostly against the bed but it feels like he is bending over her womb itself, massive and powerful and undeniable. Good thing she doesn’t want to deny him. She moans, and the sound comes from low in her, like there is a line in her body and one side of it is where he’s filling her up and the other is where she breathes. It’s low and erotic, unmistakably the sound of a woman being loved.

He snarls-- she is so keyed up it is sweet in her ears-- and holds her closer. His thrusts are shorter because he can’t push her any farther down and he never wants to leave her body when he’s close.

“I can’t wait to see you swell,” he hisses. “You’re going to look like a goddess. You feeling fertile, cara?”

Another moan comes out of her like he yanked it by the root. She didn’t think she could be any more aroused. He pounces on what she likes. “Yeah, fertile,” he says with a smirk. “So open up for me.”

She tries, but he’s got her pinned with his hips and he’s stretching her so intensely that movement is confusing.

“Wider,” he demands.

All she wants to focus on is how close he is, how near they both are to the moment when it happens. But she does manage to tense her legs wider instead of tighter. Or so she hopes. really, all she can think of is how rigid he’s gone and how closely together they are pressed, like a baby can be made by fusion.

“Forza,” he mutters, “Let me in deep, forza. I want this to go straight up into you.”

“It will,” she insists, feeling like she is going to sob.

He tsks and sucks in breath that sounds like a growl, it is so loud. The one that comes out definitely is. “Never forget you were first,” he tells her. She can hear the way he’s losing himself even as he keeps the rhythm of rocking their hips back and forth together. “Merda--” he groans and then clamps his mouth shut and presses it against the side of her neck until she can feel her own pulse beating back against the contact. It’s as fast as the heat streaming out into her in spurts. She can feel each one. They feel thick inside her, like something that brings life ought to feel.

Leonardo is breathing hard and has opened his mouth to say her name with great wonder. She feels like she is preening as he kisses her throat. Maybe there’s something to be said for being a fertility goddess when the time is right.

He gently, gently presses against her as he kisses her again. Deep kisses, like he wants to wind their souls together. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Do you think it worked?” he whispers. His voice has so much half-hidden hope in it she feels the prick of tears at the outer corner of each eye.

“I hope so,” she tells him. Her hand never left his back, so she drifts it up into the sweaty shagginess of his hair and pulls his lips back to hers. “I can’t wait to find out,” she adds. She gets goosebumps when she says it, so she is smiling when they kiss and so is he, two curves meeting like the sea and the shore.

Leonardo stays inside her. She thinks he really does want to somehow be woven together. He keeps kissing her, massaging the back of her head where he’s held her this whole time, murmuring how alluring she is. His hardness in her is proof of his words.

“Wanna have you again,” he tells her between kisses. “Now. Just in case.”

“Well then don’t hold anything back,” she whispers, putting her other arm around him. His grin above her is dark and beautiful, so wide she can see the point of one fang and how he caresses it with his tongue. He does the same thing when someone brings him a lock with no key, or any other challenge.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promises. “Too many other dreams.”

And then he does his best to make them come true.

[raleighcarrera]

hushed

the royal masquerade | hunter fierro x mc (juliet rosario)

hunter & juliet return to the library. for @trmaw 🖤

~2k words | E (18+)

“so...” hunter murmurs, the seriousness implied in the low tone of his voice betrayed by the way one corner of his mouth is lifted in an improper smirk, “this is the library.”

despite herself, she’s as charmed as ever by his absurdity. juliet huffs out a laugh under her breath, slowly shaking her head. “i can’t believe you’ve never stepped inside.”

“i was rather busy with a few other things.” his smirk widens. “plus, you know me. i’m not exactly one for being quiet.”

she hums, the sound bordering on the edge of disapproving. she knows exactly what hunter of house fierro has been doing instead of reading in the library. the reason they never crossed paths in her past is because before her, hunter spent most of his free time bedding the women who’d followed him around town, ignoring the signs that his sister was capable of murder and plotting behind his back.

the expression on his face remains perfectly innocent even as her eyebrows arch at him disapprovingly. “right,” juliet laughs finally, “of course. how could i forget?”

“you have a lot on your mind,” hunter answers graciously, his eyes sparkling. “of course i forgive you.”

“quite kind of you.” her hands remain folded in front of her as she inclines her head down one row of tomes. “this is where i spent most of my time. transcribing for the archives.”

“indeed,” hunter hums, stepping up beside her to squeeze her hand before continuing down the row of the archives, looking every bit the king regent he no longer is. despite the fact that the title has eluded him, there’s something about hunter that will always look regal, the tilt of his shoulders and the cut of his clothes simply screaming status.

she follows behind him, eyes scanning the titles they pass. it’s been a long time since she’s been in the library, but the smell of the dusty old manuscripts she spent so many hours meticulously logging stirs up a host of unpleasant memories that threaten to take her over. she can still feel the phantom rap of a ruler against her knuckles when she’d dozed off, the ache of hunger in her stomach when it’d been an entire day of writing with no breaks for food.

“juliet?” the sound of her name startles her from her stupor, and she shakes her head, moving to meet up with hunter where he’s stopped halfway down the aisle. “are you alright?”

“just lost in a memory,” she murmurs, lips lifting up into a smile. just the sight of him brightens her spirits, the affection in hunter’s eyes a welcome reminder that her reality is different, now. 

they’ve come so far.

as if reading her mind, hunter lifts her knuckles to his mouth to brush a tender kiss against her fingers, shooting her a look of love from under lush lashes. her smile widens into something more genuine.

“perhaps we should work to give you a more positive memory of this room,” he suggests, glancing over his own shoulder.

juliet blinks at him. “what do you mean?”

the expression on hunter’s face transforms, from sweet to wicked in a matter of moments. his hand slides around her waist to pull her closer, until they’re nearly nose-to-nose in the archive stacks. 

it’s then that she understands what he must mean, and she feels heat rush to her face in embarrassment, as though someone’s already caught them acting untoward. 

but there’s no one around as far as she can see; the library is empty. it’s a beautiful afternoon, and she knows mostly everyone is outside taking advantage of the weather. they’re the only two people hidden away in the library, though the sudden sound of her racing pulse feels so loud she wonders how it hasn’t attracted anyone else yet.

“you can’t be serious,” juliet hears herself say, distantly. it feels like the appropriate thing to say. they can’t possibly...

“oh, i’m very serious,” hunter assures her, his hand warm at the small of her back where he’s rubbing soothing circles into her skin above her dress. “it’s only logical.”

her hands come to rest on his shoulders as hunter beckons her closer. “how do you figure?”

“the library was cruel to you. i’ll be generous to make up for it.” she can feel the fabric of her skirt shift as hunter’s free hand ever-so-slowly pulls at the fabric. “what do you say?”

in response, juliet turns her head and kisses him before she can think too much about it, brushing her lips against his gently, at first, and then more eagerly when hunter kisses her back.

there’s at least a thousand reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this -- not here and not now -- but she finds she can’t be bothered as she considers hunter’s logic and decides he’s ultimately right.

the library took so much from her. many of her most hopeless moments occurred in this very room. it’s hard to find a dark corner of the library she hadn’t stowed away in to cry at one point or another, so if she’s able to kiss her betrothed in the middle of the stacks, with sunlight streaming in through the grand, stained-glass windows, why shouldn’t she?

hunter’s movements are slow as his hand lifts her skirt up, higher and higher until it’s officially indecent for the library, laying her bare against the books. their kiss breaks so they can both draw breath, and she pushes up onto her tip-toes to lock eyes with him, back arching to press her body alongside hunter’s.

“you’re quite radiant, you know,” he comments absently as his fingers encircle her thigh, creeping around her leg to dance upwards. his tone is so conversational anyone browsing the records on the other side of the library would never imagine what they were doing, if they happened to overhear. “beautiful, really.”

“you think so?” juliet asks, her eyelashes fluttering. she can hear her breath growing embarrassingly quicker as hunter’s touch climbs higher and higher.

“of course,” hunter murmurs, eyes fixed firmly on her face. from anyone else, the staring might be unnerving, but when he’s the one looking at her, it’s hard to feel anything other than delight. 

hunter is not shy about letting her know he is in her thoughts. he is the most forthcoming man she’s ever spoken to (not that he has much competition) and revels in showcasing his affections openly and honestly. he is romantic, in a way she’d never expected -- she often finds herself the recipient of flowers and surprise moonlight strolls and now, it seems, amorous breaks in the library.

yet he still catches her by surprise with his sweetness every time. 

“i daresay a majority of the kingdom feels the same,” he continues. before she can challenge him, his fingers pause, parting her so the pad of his thumb can press in with an easy slide where she’s already wet. “you have many admirers.”

her laugh is breathless, the grip she has on his shoulders tightening. “quite a comment, coming from you.”

hunter’s answering chuckle makes her toes curl in her shoes. juliet forces her eyes open and her breath catches at the expression on his face, serious and wanting with intensity and gentleness both displayed in his eyes in equal measure. 

his thumb circles her, catching just right where she’s most sensitive, the practiced movement of his fingers comforting, for their familiarity. hunter knows her. for someone like juliet, who went much of her life without that very basic comfort, their intimacy is everything. knowing she can rely on hunter to understand her, to take care of her, to treat her like he does...

it’s all she’s ever wanted and more.

“don’t be smart,” hunter chides, though the curve of his mouth seems to suggest he’s amused. his hand continues to move, which is all that matters, anyway, the brush of his thumb pressing into something more purposeful while his wrist angles just so. 

“i can’t help it,” juliet murmurs, aiming for cheeky and landing somewhere very far off, her voice almost shy as she resists the urge to bury her flushed face in hunter’s shoulder. “hunter.”

“yes, darling?” hunter’s free hand, bunched in her skirt, jerks to urge her closer. as she moves, his fingers slip deeper, sending a shiver down her spine. “everything alright?”

his voice is teasing, and yet she can’t find the words to bicker back with him. she can’t find any words at all, actually, exhaling a sound that’s half-moan, half-sigh as hunter touches her so expertly. her eyelids flutter shut again.

hunter gives another soft laugh under his breath. “there you go,” he encourages, and she shudders again.

despite the fact that they’re so clearly the only ones in the library, she can’t quite bring herself to get loud, hushed out of habit and by the implication of where they are and what they’re doing. her teeth bite down on her bottom lip, yet they don’t stop another groan from escaping, louder this time against her best efforts.

the skilled stroking of hunter’s fingers is quick to make her head swim, so she’s grateful for the firm kiss he bestows against her lips when his head angles in. juliet relies on him to keep her upright, holding tightly to hunter’s broad shoulders while his touch never falters, relentless between her legs.

she rocks up onto her tip-toes, scrambling for purchase against him. often, they’re in bed together when they do this, and it’s rare that her legs are left trembling while she’s still vertical, save one or two memorable occasions in the bathhouse. this is sure to be an experience she’ll never forget, and she’s certain she won’t ever be able to look in the direction of the library again without recalling the expression on hunter’s face.

though there’s worse things, she supposes, as she watches him watch her so intently. hunter’s eyes never fail to make her feel desired, and especially now, only heighten her emotions as she climbs faster and faster to an edge.

“so beautiful, juliet,” hunter murmurs softly, gaze adoring where it’s set on hers. “stunning.”

his gentle encouragement is all she needs to tumble to pieces. with one last gasping inhale, she shakes apart against him, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek to try and keep herself quiet. pleasure courses through her in a rush, and she’s grateful for hunter’s solid presence at the shelves to help her through it, his touch coaxing a few more sighs from her lips before she eventually calms and goes still.

her chest rises and falls rapidly as she works to catch her breath, and when she’s finally able to open her eyes, juliet finds hunter smiling indulgently at her, the expression on his face suggesting he’s just observed some grand entertainment.

“you seem awfully pleased with yourself,” she mutters, lifting a hand from his shoulder to push her own hair back out of her face.

“wouldn’t you be?” hunter asks smugly, finally pulling his hand out from under her skirt. the fabric drops down to the floor, swishing back across her knees, and juliet presses her legs together, twisting to shift her undergarments back into place. 

“i suppose,” she allows with a laugh, her own mouth curving into a grin as hunter moves to adjust his pants. he seems to know what she does, which is that they’ve already pressed their luck to its limits, being in here as long as they have. extending their time in the library any further seems to be asking for consequences.

still, hunter’s hands move to grasp her chin lightly between his fingers, and he draws her into a soft, slow kiss, lips meandering as though they have all the time in the world. 

she relaxes against him, kissing back just as sweetly. it hardly matters if someone catches her now, after all. there’ll be no ruler whacked against her knuckles, this time. there’s no tomes to transcribe, no archives to maintain.

the sun continues to stream into the room through the stained glass, casting water colors in shadow across their bodies where they’re intertwined. hunter pulls back to smile at her and she mirrors his expression easily, her heart pounding with love --

with joy --

-- and with peace.

[moldisgoodforyou]

lost time (chapter five)

MASTERLIST

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warning: cursing, underage drinking

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: bear with me on those title gifs/images there is not much out there lmao

CHAPTER FOUR

______________

She pressed a hand against his chest to keep just enough distance between the two of them, lowering her voice a bit. “That’s not why you stopped me.”

He leaned closer, raising his eyebrows. “Enlighten me, then.”

She stayed quiet, only able to think about his heartbeat racing underneath her touch. As he bent his head down, closer, she fisted her hand in his shirt, her voice low with a warning tone. “Rafe.”

“Sophie.” He murmured back, lips hovering inches away from hers.

Sophie made the first move, reaching up and curling a hand around the back of his neck as she pulled him into the kiss. He met her lips without hesitation, his hands instantly going to her waist. She leaned into his touch, up on her toes. “M’ so glad no one’s out here.” She breathed out, keeping one hand splayed against his chest.

Rafe tried to ignore how much that hurt, like he was some secret to be kept.

They kept kissing for a while, Sophie lazily toying with the ends of his hair. After a couple minutes, he started kissing along her jaw, sucking just enough at a spot on her neck to elicit a soft moan from her. “I wish I came as your date.” He murmured against her skin as he traced his thumb back and forth over her hip.

She froze at his confession, her head clouded without clear thought. “You’re drunk.” She mumbled back, hand falling from his neck.

“I’m not.” He argued, kissing her again.

She could taste the rum on his lips, betraying his words. “Well, I am.” She replied softly, hesitating again until he went in for another kiss. “And I’m still mad about your stupid death cup rule.”

He scoffed, softly, but sounded more amused than anything. “You can’t call house rules when it’s not your house.”

Sophie scowled and pressed her hand a little harder against his chest. “It’s more my house than yours. Can’t you just follow the rules?”

He chuckled, trailing his hand higher and ran his index finger lightly along her spine. “Do you ever stop arguing, Soph?”

She shivered at his touch, willing herself not to move closer. “Not with you.”

“Can we…?” He asked with a broad grin, tipping his head toward their houses, just a short walk away.

She laughed at the proposition, harshly. “I’m not hooking up with you, Cameron. I’ll be surprised if I remember this tomorrow.”

He faltered and the grin fell from his face right away as he dropped one of his hands from her waist. “Damn, tell me how you really feel.” He choked out a sore laugh, trying again to mask his bruised ego.

She stepped back out of his grip, pressing her fingers against her swollen lips in a feeble attempt to hide any evidence of what had just happened. “I’m going to go, tell Julia for me?”

“Wait, you’re just - that’s it?” He questioned, disappointment evident.

“Yes, that’s it.” She paused, reading his expression - and laughed, again. It sounded cruel to his ears. “You didn’t seriously think something was going to happen between us, did you?”

Rafe stiffened and ran a hand through his hair, his voice flat. “No. Of course I didn’t.”

She turned, going to leave. He caught her hand in his and she turned back for a moment, caught off guard by his gentle touch. “You can’t walk home alone, Sophie, it’s dark.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged her hand out of his grip. “It’s fine, it’s literally like five-ish minutes. There are people out walking home from the bars, it’s alright.”

Rafe frowned. “Sophie…”

“Go back to your date, Rafe.” She shook her head, walking off with her head held high.

_

Sophie woke up a few hours later to Allie and Julia peering over her as she was sprawled out on one of the couches in the sorority’s formal living room. “Soph, wake up, let’s go to our room.” Allie nudged her softly, tugging gently on her wrist.

“Huh?” She mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Julia laughed and helped pull her up. “Bedtime, Sophie. You gotta stop crashing on these couches, you’re gonna get in trouble. Did Rafe take you home?”

“What? No, I think I walked.” She replied, still half-asleep and still somewhat drunk.

“Oh. He left after you did, I figured he brought you back here.” Julia shrugged, the three of them walking up to their room.

Sophie just shook her head, trying to recall the rest of her night. “I dunno where he went. You’re not going to see him again, are you?”

“No, he was nice, but. Didn’t seem interested. In me, anyways.” Julia replied, sounding unaffected.

Allie held back a smile, knowing exactly what she was hinting at. “C’mon, Soph, let’s get ready for bed. You’re gonna hate me if you wake up in a halter top.”

Sophie nodded sleepily, following along. “Prob’ly right.”

The girls made their way upstairs and Sophie was coherent enough to change into pajamas, barely sitting up on the edge of her bed as Allie dragged a makeup wipe over her face. “He’s so fucking handsome. I hate it.” She slurred, allowing herself to feel the full effects of the alcohol with the two people she was comfortable around. 

“Who is?” Julia asked, playing dumb. Allie shot her a warning look as Sophie flopped back onto the bed. 

“You know who I’m talking about. I didn’t know he was such a good kisser.” Sophie mumbled, crawling under the covers. 

“Wait, what?!” Julia practically shrieked and Allie immediately shushed her. She lowered her tone just slightly. “You two kissed? Finally!” 

Sophie groaned at the loud noise, pulling a pillow over her face. She spoke again, muffled into the pillow. Allie raised an eyebrow at Julia as they whispered in hushed tones back and forth to each other. 

“Did you know?” 

“No I didn’t know! But it took them long enough!” 

“She was drunk! She probably didn’t mean it!” 

Sophie lifted her head again, annoyance lacing her tone. “I can hear you. Shh, I’m sleeping.” With that, the two girls took the bathroom to discuss the rest of the night in private. 

_____

Rafe couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head all weekend. 

Instead of meeting up with his friends at the bar that night like he had promised, he made a quick exit from the party, giving Julia a short apology then heading out the door. Sophie was right, there were quite a few people out making their way from the bars to house parties or wherever, but he used it as an excuse to follow her home from a distance. He felt a bit creepy, admittedly, but told himself he just happened to be going home to Delt, two houses away from where she lived at Theta. (Plus if he had heard something had happened to her, he would have never forgiven himself.) 

He had never been more grateful for a lecture day in class on Monday. He could feel her gaze on him several times throughout class, wanting nothing more than to meet her eyes, but kept his head down as he scrawled notes into his notebook. At the end of class, he packed his things hurriedly, trying to rush out the door, but she was quicker and waited just outside the doors for him. “Rafe, hey!” She caught his arm as he was walking out, head down.

He slowed, stepping aside in the hallway with her and tried his best to play it cool. “What’s up?” 

She smiled like nothing had ever happened between them. “I tried getting your attention all class, you were ignoring me. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to sit together now?”

He shook his head and tugged down on the bill of his hat, backwards as always. “Oh. Didn’t know. I was just taking notes.”

She nodded, unfazed. “Right. I just wanted to be sure we were still on to meet tomorrow night? I think our first debate is soon, I don’t want to be unprepared.” 

He grimaced, having completely forgotten. “Right, yeah. Is the library cool? Er, fine? I can reserve a room.”

Sophie waved her hand. “I already got us one. Second floor, I’ll see you at six.” She paused, giving him a once-over then a sheepish grin. “I meant to ask, did you have fun at the party with Julia? I honestly don’t remember much after the bus back to Theta.” 

Rafe’s blood ran cold and he had to stop himself from openly gaping. True to her word, she hadn’t remembered. “Um. Yeah. She’s nice, but, uh, not really my type, you know.” He tripped over his words, glancing at her neck to see if there was any trace of the mark he had left, but it was either completely healed or well-covered.

“Oh.” Sophie nodded again, completely oblivious. “Okay then, I’ll see you later.” She left him standing there, shaking his head in disbelief. 

The second he got back to Delt, he found Colin right away in their room, playing video games with James. “You can’t ask her out.” Rafe declared, standing right in front of the TV. They both ignored James’ protests and Colin pulled the headset down, confused.

“What?”

“You can’t ask her out.” Rafe repeated, arms crossed. His face was stony, jaw set. 

Colin raised his eyebrows. “Why, did something happen? This why you’ve been a space case all weekend?” 

Rafe grumbled something under his breath. “No, just - you can’t. She’s off-limits.” 

James just rolled his eyes, reaching out and kicking his leg to get him out of the way of the TV. “You can’t claim a girl that doesn’t even want you in the first place, dumbass.” 

Rafe groaned, grabbing his ankle and shoving his leg aside. “I’m serious, Colin. Delt code. And if you already asked her out, you have to tell her plans changed or something, don’t be a dick about it -” 

“Chill, chill, I haven’t said a word to her.” Colin raised his hands in surrender. 

Rafe exhaled, nodding slowly. “Right. Good. Carry on, then.” He missed Colin and James exchanging confused looks as he left the room with a huff. 

_ 

If she was going to just pretend nothing ever happened and be nice, he could deal with that. They could be friends, Rafe told himself as he swiped his card at a local coffee shop in town before his meeting with Sophie that Tuesday night. He ignored the way his stomach twisted as he first caught sight of her alone in the study room in the library, a pencil tucked up and twisted into her hair. 

“Here, Soph.” He slid into his seat across from her, pushing a cup of coffee across the table. She glanced up, ready to make a snarky remark about it being too late for caffeine, then paused as she saw the cup from Sweetwaters, her favorite coffee. Rafe pulled out his laptop, logging on, then glanced up at her. “What, something wrong? You like it with vanilla, right?”

She nodded quickly and brought it to her lips, then took a small sip and gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, um, just didn’t know you noticed. Thank you.” 

“No biggie.” He waved it off, then pushed the laptop to her and started walking her through the argument he had prepared in advance. She was totally unfocused, distracted by running every single possible meaning of what his kind gesture could have meant. After a couple minutes, Rafe caught on. “And that’s exactly why I’m taking credit for all of the project. Right?” 

Sophie nodded quickly, snapping out of it. “Right, yeah, totally. Um. Let me just read back over this real quick…” 

He laughed and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Were you listening?” 

Never willing to admit her faults, she scowled at him. “Of course I was listening.” 

He grinned. “Sure, Soph.” 

“Why do you call me that?” She interrupted. 

He shrugged. “I’ve called you that since high school, it’s nothing new.” 

“But...my friends call me Soph. And only some of them.” She pointed out. 

His lips quirked up into an amused smile. “You really think we’re not friends? Hit me where it hurts, Flint.” 

She raised her eyebrows, confused, and pulled her hand back. “You hate me.” 

He shook his head. “Not quite.” After a momentary pause, he pushed the laptop back to her. “See, like I was saying…” 

Sophie nodded at his admission, trying to hide a smile as she took another sip of her coffee. The rest of the meeting was productive, and they were both quiet as they packed up their things an hour later. “Is your family coming in next weekend? For parent’s weekend?” She broke the silence, trying to make friendly conversation.

Every third weekend in October, Columbus was flooded with parents reliving their college days and buying their kids’ meals at fancy restaurants normally frequented by locals. All of Greek life had the same time of year reserved for parent’s weekend, and with Sophie’s parents as proud alumni and her older brother now a grad student at Ohio State, her family hadn’t missed one yet. 

“Uh, no. My dad doesn’t really have time to come out with work and whatever, and.” He shrugged and preoccupied himself with zipping his backpack, head down. “You know.”

Sophie frowned, biting her lip. “Right, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Do you have plans, then?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “No, I’ll probably just head to the game alone. Don’t really want to crash my friend’s weekends, you know.” 

“Come hang with me.” 

He glanced up at her. “Isn’t your family coming in?” 

Suddenly emboldened, Sophie sent him an earnest smile. “Yeah, but it’s basically just a frat reunion for my dad, it’s nothing special. Come to our tailgate, I’m sure they’d like to see you.” Her dad was a golf instructor at the country club back home. He had taught Rafe in private lessons all through high school, and always spoke fondly of him. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” He hedged, though he wanted nothing more than to accept the offer. 

“You wouldn’t be. At least consider it?” 

“I - yeah, I’ll think about it.” He settled.

She grinned, pulling her backpack over her shoulder. “Good. Thank you, again, for the coffee.” 

“It’s no problem.” He allowed a smile, giving her a small wave as she left.

taglist: @obx-saltlife​ @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @oopsiedoopsie23 @taiter-tots @annedub

[officialleehadan]

Daughters Returned

Tilsie, Mila was pleased to note, didn’t let go of his hand as they walked down off the ship. Shaddra stayed close at her sister’s side. She was still nervous, reasonably so, from her adventures, and didn’t like to be too far out of reach.

Tilsie’s childhood home was a grand, flying Keep. It was, to Mila’s generally disinterested eye, decorated fashionably. There were all the usual antiques and antiquities of Empire Nobility. Most of them were things that, when they were originally bought, relatively cheap. Age, of course, made anything valuable, which he knew better than most.

“I thought your parents would meet us at the hanger,” he said, since that was honestly the most surprising thing about the Keep so far. He knew that some parents were distant to their children, but he had thought that the return of their runaway daughter, with the other daughter they thought dead, would be a cause for celebration. “Where are they?”

“I didn’t tell them we were flying in,” Tilsie said, slightly shamefaced, but confident in herself in a way she hadn’t been when they first met. “They’re going to fuss and carry on. There will probably be some shouting about impropriety.”

“…not tears of joy about their returned children?”

If Tilsie’s parents didn’t value their daughters, Mila would gladly carry off both of the Ladies Do Grezden himself. Dragons took families seriously. His mate and her sister were Treasures he would not happily part with anyway. Taking the from people who didn’t value them was, in a certain way, deeply satisfying.

He might have to ask if he could steal them anyway.

“There will be some of those too,” Shaddra said. Although still pale and thin from her time in Underhill, she held herself proudly. Mila doubted anyone would look closely enough to see the way her hands shook when she took them out of her pockets. “They’re good people, just… a little empty-headed.”

“So was I, when we started all this,” Tilsie pointed out when Mila growled a little. That, he had to admit, was true enough. She was smart, and educated, but those didn’t necessarily mean good sense. Fortunately, Tilsie was a quick study. “Besides, I’m not staying here, so we won’t see much of them.”

That part, at least, they did talk about. Once Shaddra went to bed, Tilsie came down to Mila’s lair-bed in the Hold and let him curl up around her in a big pile of blankets and scales. It took some arguing and some negotiation to figure out their next steps, but Tilsie had been very clear about her desire to stay on the ship with him.

Everything else could be figured out later. The important pieces were in place.

Tilsie’s parents, she had explained, were Lord Baron Mizaren Do Grezden and Baroness Ankha Do Grezden. Together, they ruled a small star system, and the Lord Baron sat the House of Lords.

Not that Mila was terribly impressed by all that, but dragons were rarely impressed by human ranks. He broke shell on Old Earth. He wasn’t especially worried about making a good impression. That said, they were the parents of his mate and her sister. It wouldn’t do to upset them overly.

Maybe he should have changed into something resembling formal-wear. His worn canvas pants and loose shirt probably weren’t appropriate for meeting nobility.

Maybe he should just wear his scales. Nobody ever told a dragon their scales were inappropriate.

“You’re overthinking this,” Tilsie told him, which meant that either he was growling again, or he had spoken aloud. “They’re going to be very grateful that you brought us back safe and sound.”

“How are they going to feel about the fact that you’re planning to leave with me?” He hoped she was still planning to leave with him, anyway. He didn’t really understand the lure of home, having never particularly had one of his own. All the same, he wouldn’t force her to leave hers, if she wanted to stay. “If our plans haven’t changed.”

“They haven’t changed,” Tilsie assured him. Unlike him, she was clothed in the finery she had hidden away in the bottom of her bags. She glittered in silver-gold, almost a match for his scale, which she wore openly at her throat. “And Shaddra might be coming with us.”

“I don’t feel safe here anymore,” Shaddra admitted shyly to Mila, who wasn’t surprised, but did purr at his mate’s sister. She was, of course, welcome. They came to a large set of doors, manned by a pair of surprised footmen who looked over the Ladies do Grezden with some shock. They had, after all, been missing for quite a while. “Here we are. Mother and Father always take sherry in the library before dinner. Open the doors, please, Colby. Do they have company?”

“No, Lady Shaddra,” one of the footmen stammered. He pushed the door open with a professionalism that looked like it was mostly muscle memory. “Welcome home, Lady Shaddra! We thought- we feared the worst.”

“Thank you, Colby,” Shaddra told him and gave Tilsie a shaky smile before they stepped through the doors together, with Mila just behind them. He would have liked to go first, but that instinct was one he could ignore reasonably well. “Mother? Father?”

There was a sound of shattering porcelain before Mila entered the room, and he bit his own tongue rather than let the fire show behind his teeth. The sound turned out to be a broken teacup, shattered on the floor when it slipped from Tilsie’s mother’s nerveless hand. Almost before it hit the floor, the Baroness was out of her chair and had flung her arms around both her daughters Behind her, their father was halfway out of his chair, and seemed just as stunned as his wife.

Not surprising, considering he thought one daughter missing, and the other dead.

He didn’t join the huddle, but he looked like he wanted to. Lord Baron Do Grezden was a man who had turned a small fortune into a large one. Although many of his peers outranked him, his word was well-heeded, and he was known for being fair-minded, for a noble.

He and his wife had been somewhat absent from their daughters’ lives, preferring to leave their care to nannies, but by their joy at the sight of their girls, Mila could see that they did love their children. That reassured him somewhat. If they had been cruel to Tilsie or Shaddra, Mila might have had to do something drastic, like shifting into his scaly form in their library.

“They told us you were dead,” Baroness Do Grezden was saying into her younger daughter’s hair between kisses pressed to each of their faces. “They said they had kidnapped you, but then they refused us proof of life. How in the world did you make it home?”

At that, Tilsie pulled away, and reached for Mila’s hand. He twined his fingers with hers and did his best to look mostly human.

“This is Mila,” she introduced him to her parents, just a little shy, but determined. “He agreed to help me find Shaddra, and has been… been the most steadfast companion I could have ever dreamed of.”

Forget looking human. Mila was trying not to purr. His Treasure, his mate, thought he was a good companion. It might sound like faint praise, but Mail knew how she meant it. Could feel how much moreshe meant by it, and was flattered right down to the tip of his unseen tail.

“Greetings,” he said around his overwhelming smugness, and smiled, somehow without showing too much tooth. “I am glad to meet the family of Tilsie and Shaddra. They speak highly of you both.”

Humans liked flattery, right? He wasn’t very good at it, but for Tilsie, he would try.

“You brought our girls back to us?” Baroness Do Grezden asked, somewhat shaky and tear-stained. “You kept Tillestra safe, and rescued Shaderine?”

It was strange to hear their full names, but Mila supposed he didn’t use his own full name very often either. “Couldn’t do anything else, Baroness. Not after… well after everything.”

“Please sit,” Baron Do Grezden said when he finally managed to rally to the shock of his daughters’ reappearance. “And tell us everything.”

+++

HGE - The Maw

Tilsie needs to find someone in the worst part of space. For that, she needs the kind of help money can’t always buy, and the kind of luck she only hopes she has.

Back Room Handshakes

New Understandings

Poker Face

Brassy Secrets

Coffee Treasure

Fireworks at Midnight

Dragon-Tongue (Subscriber Only!)

Challenge-Battle (Subscribers only!)

Courting Rituals

Gold Shoes and Blue Scales (Subscriber Only!)

Lost Lost Lost (Subscriber Only!)

Wander Lost (Subscriber Only!)

Three Questions (Subscriber Only!)

Spent Like Rain (Subscriber Only!)

Sister Sister Treasure (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

[magical-girl-coral]

 Birthday Surprises

Nanao Ise has found a new low for herself. It was eight in the morning, the sun was barely rising, and she was already on her fourth cup of Sake. And from how she was feeling, she wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

It all started when she and her friends decided to do something nice for Rangiku. For the last few months, she had been oddly active, taking fewer naps at the office, doing her paperwork, drinking less in the afternoon, and actually showing up to lieutenants' meetings on time. So as a small reward, all her female coworkers thought of giving her a small birthday surprise, showing up at her door with booze and persimmon sweets for a good morning gift. Since almost everyone takes a day off on their birthday, they wouldn't have to worry about her being somewhere else. Nanao took the lead since it was her idea and opened the bedroom to wake Rangiku up.

And there were no words that could describe her shock when she saw her best friend with a bedmate. Nanao was just thankful her instincts shut the door before anyone else could peek in.

Now she, along with the rest of the Shinigami Women's Association, drank in one of their many secret hiding spots (thanks to president Yachiru) as they took in the new information. 

Rukia looked at Nanao worriedly. "Ise-san, don't you think you should slow down a bit?"

Kiyone grimaced. "I don't think she's drinking enough. I would have drunk myself under the table by now if I were in her place. Just thinking about finding Isane like that gives me chills."

"I still can't get over how she had a secret boyfriend and didn't tell us," Momo said before Nanao could correct Kiyone's assumption for her "sisterly" feelings towards Rangiku, “She almost never keeps secrets like this. Sometimes she tells us too much!”

Soi Fon poured Nanao and herself another cup. "And are you sure you didn't see his face?"

Nanao dropped her face on the table. "No," she mumbled out, "I could only see the back of his head." Although the silver hair, the scar across the chest, and the fucking missing right arm were enough to tell who he was.

Oh, gods, she was starting to curse now mentally. She should stop before the words begin to come out.

Isane smiled awkwardly at the scene. "Well, at least now we know why she's been in such a good mood lately. Remember when she turned down lunch break drinking with captain Kyoraku, and we all thought she was dying?"

Retsu smiled at that. "I remember that. You tied her up and sent her to me directly to get an emergency check. Even I was too scared of the possibilities to turn down the request. Rangiku was fairly upset with all of us."

"....I've just realized something," Nemu said suddenly, "it's impossible for her mystery bedfellow to be one of the seated officers, lieutenants, or captains."

Nanao raised her head from the table. "What do you mean?"

"Rangiku has a lieutenant-level spiritual power that has only grown stronger since she has taken her Shikai training more seriously," Nemu explained, "only people around her levels can be detected while standing in her presence. Since Rangiku's spiritual mass would cloak anyone weaker, none of us could sense his presence, which means whoever she is with has to be weaker than her."

Nanao's eyebrows went up to her hairline. His restrictions. They must have hidden his spiritual powers. Nanao thanked the gods and swallowed the irony of Nemu's last sentence.

"Now that is a big relief," Soin Fon said, "Can you imagine how awkward it would be if she dated someone we all knew?"

"Oh, yeah, I haven't thought about that," Momo said to herself, "With how intermingled everyone already is, adding a romantic relationship to the mix would be more than messy, especially since most of us are still getting used to how everything's changed."

Nanao's heart fell to her stomach as everyone agreed.

"I feel a bit proud now, even more so than I have before," Retsu said as she put a hand over her heart, and it was at that moment that Nanao had forsaken the cup and went straight to the bottle.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

Three hours and two bottles later, Nanao found herself in front of Rangiku's apartment. While she did declare she was ready to go home to take a last-minute day off, she found herself in front of Rangiku's door instead. This is why one shouldn't drink and Shunpo.

After knocking on her door on a lost rhyme, Rangiku opened her door with a surprised expression. "Nanao-chan, What are you doing here? And why do you smell like your captain?"

Nanao swayed as she answered with her own question. "Can he extend his penis like his sword?"

Rangiku openly gaped at her. "What?"

"You know, he says shoot to kill, and it gets longer." Nanao wished she could shut her mouth, but the words kept flowing out. "Or do his restrictions stop that from happening? No, wait, does his hollowfication do something during sex? Like, can it transform his di-"

Rangiku slapped her palm over Nanao's mouth, to which Nanao was grateful. "Okay, since you're obviously hammered and won't listen to common sense, how about I'll pour you a glass of water, some tea, and we'll continue this conversation inside where my neighbors can't hear you."

Nanao nodded her head in agreement, and Rangiku released her mouth. She quickly pulled them both inside and sat Nanao down before going to the kitchen to prepare the aforementioned tea.

Rangiku sat a teacup in front of Nanao and took a deep breath. "So, why have you been drinking with Nemu at eleven in the morning?"

Nanao shrunk in her seat. It didn’t feel great to be on the other side of the table. “Because I found you and captain Ichimaru in bed together. We wanted to surprise you because it’s your birthday and I panicked, but no one else has seen his face!” She added the last part quickly after noticing her ever-paling face. "Wait, how did you know I drank with Nemu?"

"I learned the hard way not to get her too drunk, or I start asking the same things from her influence." Rangiku chuckled softly to herself. "Your next question?"

"How long have you two been together?"

Rangiku put her finger on her chin in thought. "We got togther around the last winter festival, so about nine months."

Now it was Nanao's turn to gape. "Nine months?! You've been in a secret relationship for nine months, and you didn't tell me?! I thought you trusted me in these kinds of things! What changed?"

"No, no, I still do, I swear!" Rangiku assured as she rose her hands in defense. "I wanted to tell you, I really did. It was just... well..." Rangiku sighed deeply and sat back in her chair. "Do you remember when Gin first came back, people broke into the third's barracks and graffitied their offices?"

"Yes, I remember. It was painful watching Kira go through that-" Nanao's eyes widened in realization. "Oh."

"Yeah," Rangiku said as she rubbed her neck, "It took forever for things to settle down. Just yesterday, Gin mentioned how relieved he was that no one harassed his men in six months. So when we first got together, he wanted to keep it a secret so-"

"So that none of those poor excuses of breathing beings would start troubling you," Nanao finished the sentence for her.

Rangiku let out a small laugh. "You know, Gin called them something similar, except a lot more vulgar."

"Trust me, the only reason I haven't said anything worse is because your tea is magic, and it's sobering me up quickly." Nanao took another sip and rubbed her forehead. A hangover is coming already; she could feel it.

Rangiku's eyes shone brightly. "I know, right? It took me forever to come up with this special blend. It cures me right away! And don't forget to drink your water; the tea itself isn't enough. You also need some actual hydration."

Nanao drank the water, and her headache went away. She honestly wanted to get this straight to the Twelve Division to be analyzed, but her phone buzzed before she could joke about that. "It looks like president Kusajishi wants us to have an emergency meeting at Kuchiki manor."

"Awww," Rangiku complained loudly, "but it's my day off."

"We might as well get there just to get it over with." Nanao stood up and went to pull on Rangiku's arm. "It's probably about her spending all of our fundings on another failed pool."

Rangiku let out one last grumble as she was pulled to her feet. Unfortunately, they had to walk there, with Nanao still slightly drunk and Rangiku being sleepy from her constant napping. By the time they got there, it was one in the afternoon. Though, they would have arrived sooner if it wasn’t for an unplanned coffee stop.

Nanao and Rangiku both sensed more people than there should be. Thinking it was a trap or a cruel prank, they drew out their swords just in case. What they didn't expect was confetti, most of the high-ranked Shinigami, and a large banner in the middle of the room that said "Happy Birthday, Rangiku!".

All the attendants in the room wished Rangiku happy birthday in one giant shout as captain Ichimaru blew a party horn. Nanao turned her head towards Rangiku with an open mouth. "I did not know this was planned."

"Trust me, I believe you," Rangiku said before letting out a big laugh and walking up to hug her friends. "How were you able to pull this off at the last minute? And with Byakuya's approval to use one of his party rooms?"

"I used the "you tried to kill me for an entire week" card, and he gave it to us without issues," Rukia explained with a shrug, but Nanao knew what this meant. She only used this card during very dire situations, and coming up with a last-minute birthday surprise fit that criteria. And Rangiku seemed to notice this too with how she was trying to suffocate Rukia in a boob bear hug.

Gin stood next to the Rangiku. "Is this surprise party a hit?"

Rangiku nodded her head tearfully.

"Cool, I'm gonna go lurk in the shadows now. See ya."

Gin gave one last peace before disappearing into thin air. Rangiku released Rukia with an angry "don't you dare" and ran after him, only to come back empty-handed with a huff. However, her frown soon changed to a giddy smile when people started to hand her alcohol.

Nanao felt herself relax when the music began to play. People were talking, some were laughing, others were eating, and there was a large stack of gifts in one of the corners of the room. Maybe this day can end on a sober high note after all-.

Her phone buzzed. 

Unknown number : If you wanted to know how long I was, you could've just ask ;)

Nanao threw her phone at the wall and went straight to the punch bowl.

[writtingfiction]

Claude and a fake dating au please

Please enjoy this mondern version of them cast with the fake dating au! School starts in three days, lets see how many stories I can write before then, enjoy!!

pairing: Byleth x Claude

words: 1.7 k

Now when Claude had received the invitation to the corporate annual party he wasn’t expecting much, just the usual black and white suit and talk about how things are going well within the company. Maybe brag a little about how they got the upper hand in sales for the first quarter of the year. Nonetheless, as cunning as he was, he wasn’t expecting to show up at the party with his former boss from back when he was an intern with the Seiros Inc. Not only did he show up with his former boss, but he’s also said to everyone, within his company and rivalling companies that the two of them are together.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when the two enter the room all eyes on them. Byleth has half a mind to pat his arm gently in a way to comfort him. Claude wants to crawl into his own skin the way Edelgard and Dimitri look at him. Never mind how Seteth absolute seethes as he sends daggers towards him ready to rip him apart the second, he’s left alone. He thinks the only person to not be surprised by this was his own assistant. Although, he didn’t have the heart to tell him that this wasn’t exactly real.

When the pair had separated his close friends swarmed him. There were a lot of comments and many, many questions. He needed a drink. Hilda was incessantly poking his side, demanding for answers as Lorenz was lecturing him about something, he’s not paying attention.

“If you keep asking me all at the same time, I can’t answer you.” Claude said annoyed. Just barely making it to the table to grab a drink. The small crowd goes silent before they all speak up again. He shoots them a look before he hears one voice clearly through all the voices.

“Ok, ok, ok, I just need to know how.” It was Lysithea. Claude looks her in eye and then towards the rest of his friends. He’s now very glad that the two of them talked about this beforehand and came up with a story. Claude clears his throat.

“Well,” He starts off, trying to give off a vibe of mysteriousness and he is doing it well. “It started after Byleth got back from her overseas trip— “

“That that was 8 months ago!!” Hilda let out a whispered cry. Claude sends her a glare.

“Yes—As I was saying, after the overseas trip she had. We got back into touch as she was looking for a new job. I told her she could apply at Leicester Alliance and things went on from there.” Claude said, sipping his sweet drink. Rapheal lands a rough hand on his shoulder congratulating him.

“I have half a mind to scold you Claude, getting together with a former colleague like that? Do you even know what this could do to the company?” Lorenz started off with his lecture and Claude tried his hardest not to eye roll.

“Hence why we kept hidden for so long. We also hid it well mind you.” Claude said. Pointing a finger to no one in particular. Lysithea shakes her head.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Lysithea was a very smart girl for her age. Even though he constantly teases her for it, he couldn’t help but curse at how she knew he avoided the question. He had hoped his friends would carry the conversation away when they knew the least amount.

“What was your question, again?”

“How. How did you manage to convince Byleth to get with you?” Claude hums. His way of buffering so he can recall what him and Byleth discussed.

“I charmed her. Impeccable planning if I might say so myself.” Claude says. Grin as wide as possible to show off how cocky he was. He could see the very visible eye roll from Hilda.

“Totally Claude, now will you stop and just tell us?” Hilda whines out.

“Tell you what?” It’s a new voice. Everyone turns to see Byleth standing at the edge of their little circle. She’s dressed in smooth black dress that hugs her figure comfortably. There’s some gold jewelry on her wrists and neck. A matching pendent with Claude with his own necklace. Byleth’s outfit compliments Claude’s nicely, a couple picked straight from a magazine.

“Byleth! They were asking about how I managed to get you under my arm.” Claude said. Approaching her, smoothly wrapping an arm around her waist.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was caught like a deer in headlights when I had asked you out for dinner.” Byleth said. Voice flat with a hint of teasing to it. The cat-like smirks that appeared on half of his friends faces had almost made him loose his composure. It didn’t help either that what Byleth said was true. When things first started out, Byleth suggested a dinner to chat about things and it honestly caught him off guard.

“Well, now they don’t need to know that.” Claude let out a nervous chuckle. He thought he had everything under control but this woman had him rethinking all his plans in under a second. She was just as or more cunning than him. A rare smile appeared on her face.

“No need to hide what happened. Have you told them about how you almost fell down the stairs earlier?” Byleth teased as Claude went red, choking on his words.

Claude trying to save himself and barely in doing so. Byleth was ready to crumble the reputation he had as cool lover and was trying too. Not with fake information either, he didn’t know if it was worse. However, while trying to keep it together he was catching things. People were relaxing around him for once. His close friends and coworkers were smiling and sharing stories from their lives. His rivals weren’t so tense around him, Seteth stopped glaring at him throughout the night. The old man was more focused on his sister than him tonight.

Byleth was making everyone around him more comfortable by telling them a side that only she would see. Claude shook his head with a small smile on his lips. Perhaps she was more cunning than he was.

The rest of the evening goes on without a hitch and he’s very happy with himself. Byleth noticed the change in demeanor. She wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. However, she’s stopped in her tracks by two familiar faces. Edelgard and Dimitri approach her before they leave for the night.

“Byleth, if I may,” Dimitri speaks up, long blonde hair tied back nicely. There’s a small braid on the side of his hair leading to the bun. “Would it still be too late to offer you a position within the Faerghus Knights?” There’s an eye roll from Edelgard.

“What he means to say, even though you’re with Claude would you be open to a new and better position? Preferably with the Adrestian Corp.” Edelgard said. Byleth can only smile, a small part of her is glad they haven’t given up the friendly rivalry she only hopes it doesn’t end in an ugly way.

“I’m sorry, my loyalty goes to Claude. Not just because he’s my boyfriend.” Byleth felt something twist at her heart. It felt strange to call him that openly. She had spent the last month or two coming to terms with the deal that the two of them made. The two leaders of their respective company's sigh.

“We’ll get you one day, Professor.” Dimitri said a large smile on his face. Byleth only shook her head at the old nickname. Yes, she was their boss and taught them how to do their jobs to the best of their abilities but she didn’t deserve that title. She bids them fair well and goes to rejoin Claude. She knew the man was getting weary with how the others questioned him relentlessly about company issues now that pleasantries were over.

She grabs both of their coats before she reenters the room. A clear sign that they were leaving for the night and no one would stop them for a chat. It was one thing she was grateful for; they knew when people wanted to leave and would let them. It takes Byleth a moment to find him even with everyone who has left. When she does spot him, he’s surround by those greedy slimy men who would do anything to get ahead. Unfortunately, Claude is the only huge target left. Edelgard and Dimitri left, Seteth and Rhea left two hours into the party. First to arrive and first to leave, mused Byleth.

Byleth appears at Claude’s side in a matter of moments. One hand resting on his back, a comforting gesture. There’s a stretched smile on Claude’s face and cruel grins on the faces surrounding him. Byleth is quick in saying hi as she places Claude’s coat in his arms, cementing the fact that they were leaving and no one would be stopping them. Only one or two men tried to keep Claude longer but Byleth was quick to interject. Coats on and pulling him away from the crowd by the hand. When the doors of the building were closed behind them, they let out a breath.

There’s a shared look between the two of them, before they let out a small laugh. Byleth is the first to move from their spot at the door. Hand reaching in to her coat pocket and taking the keys out, waving them in the air.

“Ready to head home?” Byleth said.

“Couldn’t speak sweeter words for my ears to hear.” Claude said.

The drive home was nice, the music was just loud enough to drown out overwhelming thoughts. However, as Claude checks his phone looking at new emails a smirk appears on his lips.

“Good news, we have more shareholders because of our appearance tonight. I have a feeling there’ll be some more cameras following us around more than normal over the next couple weeks.” Claude said. “You ready for this?”

“I’m ready. The company will come out on top for the end of the year, just get ready for the speed bumps along your path.” Byleth replied. Claude let out a chuckle.

“We’ll defeat anything coming our way. I won’t let them win.” Claude said, knowing the year ahead of them will be difficult but he had Byleth by his side. What could go wrong?

[sachigram]

I know Halloween has long passed (*sob*) but what do you think of Izaya as a Witch? 🤔 (maybe with a side order of Shizuo being his beastly but also angry familiar? 😂😂😂)

((Okay so I went rogue on this one. It’s funny because @lateniteslacker and I have an rp going where Izaya is a witch right now so I wanted this one to be darker and wanted Shizuo to be a beast for real.))

The thing about humans is, they really do have more in common with wild animals than they'd like to believe. Izaya has always studied human behavior extensively, obsessively, and he's always excited when a completely civilized person gives into their instincts, usually in a moment of complete desperation. The four f's really are a universal truth, and while Izaya is captivated by humanity as a whole, he can't deny he feels a certain...thrill in knowing society could topple at any moment, with only the slightest push, and then people would show their true colors and what lengths they would go to in order to survive.

Thinking this over, Izaya lifts his eyes to the beast pacing around his apartment. It's late at night, obscenely early morning, actually, but neither of the occupants in the apartment have slept yet. It's close to sunrise, Izaya realizes, and Shizuo has still yet to kill him.

“You're letting me live again? How generous of you, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, and when Shizuo growls at him in answer, Izaya's lips curl into a small smile. Shizuo can't reply at length, of course. No werewolf in existence can speak when they're transformed.

Shizuo's body could be considered grotesque, but Izaya's never been squeamish, and he doesn't mind watching the huge monster walk in circles, his features lit only by the city lights streaming into the windows. His skin is dark and leathery, only some of it covered in thick, wiry fur. Shizuo's mouth is gaping and filled with sharp, jagged teeth, so many that it seems to be hard for Shizuo properly close it, thus making him leave drops of saliva in his wake. His eyes are the same color as normal, so dark they're practically a mirror for anyone who looks into them, but they're filled with bloodlust and hunger, instincts Shizuo would be acting on if not for Izaya's potion keeping him in his own mind.

“You could sleep, you know,” Izaya continues, watching with glee as Shizuo's ears perk towards Izaya, hearing him whether Shizuo wants to or not. “I'm not going to do anything to you. We seem to be in a truce, don't we? Unwilling companions.”

Shizuo snarls openly at that and makes his way over to the desk, looming over it and salivating onto Izaya's papers. Izaya merely looks up at him pleasantly, knowing Shizuo won't actually kill him. Shizuo is too afraid of being left alone to do so.

“Is it some kind of atonement? You think keeping yourself sleep deprived will help you feel better about what you are? It's actually only making it worse.” Izaya listens to Shizuo's deep, rumbling growl, and hears it for the question it really is. “I'm not awake because I want to be, Shizu-chan! It's not the same. You know I have insomnia. At the very least, I'm grateful for your company.”

Shizuo huffs and turns away from him then, going back to pacing. Izaya knows how cruel it is of him to act as if Shizuo has any choice to be here, but it hardly matters to Izaya why Shizuo is here. He's here. That's all Izaya needs.

It was months ago, another full moon. Izaya was fed up with Shizuo, wanted him gone for good. Shizuo wasn't rising to Izaya's challenges anymore, would actually ignore Izaya if they crossed paths on the street. More and more of Shizuo's time was spent with that woman, that doe-eyed assassin, and Izaya decided he was done playing around. He hired some men, some higher-ups in the Yakuza, actually, and Shizuo fought as he always does, but he couldn't avoid the sharp teeth when they broke his skin and infected him with something that could never be cured.

It took two weeks for Shizuo to come to Izaya. Shizuo was pale, haggard, looked as if he hadn't slept in days. He stormed into Izaya's apartment and demanded to know what was wrong with him, why he wanted to bite and tear, why his dreams were filled with blood and viscera— “guts” is what Shizuo actually said, but that's besides the point.

“Why did you come to me?” Izaya had asked. “What makes you think I know?”

The answer was more than Shizuo could put into words. All monsters make their way to Izaya sooner or later, all of them knowing Izaya can help if he chooses to. It's why Shinichi made contact with him, why the more beastly members of the Yakuza put up with him. Izaya is stronger than he looks, smarter than is good for him, and filled with a constant boredom that makes him dangerous. To top it all off, he's one of the only witches in Japan, and an incredibly powerful one at that.

Izaya explained that Shizuo was bitten by a werewolf, and he would succumb to his desires during the next full moon unless he relented to trusting Izaya to help, and at first, Shizuo stormed out, cursing, threatening to bash Izaya's head in. A week later, one week before the next full moon, Shizuo was back, looking worse than before, and he had a tired sort of acceptance about him that let Izaya know the monster had already worked through all the other stages of grief.

Now, they can be around each other for extended periods of time, but never without underlying malice and contempt in their words and actions. Shizuo refuses to take the potion home and be alone in this, and Izaya hardly minds being subjected to Shizuo's transformation, despite the fact that Shizuo keeps promising to kill him before sunrise. They're at an impasse, and like all shaky alliances, they're waiting for the other one to break it first.

The next time Izaya looks up from his computer, Shizuo is back to normal, curled into a ball in the floor, panting at the strain of his return to humanity. Izaya stands and goes to his side, offering him a blanket to cover his trembling, naked body, and Shizuo swats him away, sending Izaya toppling to the floor. Izaya only laughs, pleased Shizuo still has some fight in him. It's so much more fun this way.

“Fuck,” Shizuo hisses, lifting his head to glare openly at Izaya. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Izaya asks earnestly.

“Like you love this.”

Izaya opens his mouth to respond, but he decides Shizuo has suffered enough for one night. He stands and goes back to his desk, leaving Shizuo to his own devices. Normally Shizuo will dress and leave immediately, but he lingers this time, hovering almost uncertainly by Izaya.

“Your mind is a mess,” Izaya says, hating that he can hear the majority of Shizuo's thoughts. Izaya tries not to read minds very often, feels like it's an unfair advantage in his line of work, and he so loves an actual challenge. But Shizuo's mind is different; it's loud and demanding, wanting more than anything to be heard.

“Why are you helping me?” Shizuo asks.

“I help many members of this world and the next, Shizu-chan,” Izaya replies without looking up. “It's part of my job.”

“Why wouldn't you want me to lose my mind and kill someone? Everyone would know then, wouldn't they? That I'm a monster. Isn't that what you want?”

Izaya looks up at him at last, a bored expression on his face. “It's enough that I know it.”

“Bullshit,” Shizuo snaps. “I keep waiting for you to sell me out, to tell everyone what I am. Why the fuck haven't you? I wouldn't help you if the tables were turned.”

“I know that,” Izaya says, shrugging. “I guess you could say I've been touched by how pitiful you are. How helpless.” Izaya's smile stretches into a leer, and he can see the way it makes Shizuo's skin crawl. “You need me.”

“I could find someone else,” Shizuo says. “Celty could know another...magic person.”

“By all means, go find them,” Izaya says. “Go explore the country and beyond on your measly second rate bodyguard salary. Better yet, go to Kasuka and tell him what you are and beg him for help in finding someone else to give you the same potion I give you for free every month.”

Shizuo flinches at that. He's obviously terrified of Kasuka finding out, which is hilarious in itself, as Kasuka is dating Ruri, another of Izaya's clients. It's true she doesn't have much vampire blood in her veins, but she has enough to feel the bloodlust. Izaya hasn't told Shizuo any of that, though. If nothing else, Izaya is loyal to his clients until they give him reason not to be, even if those reasons are nothing more than being more interesting once they find out Izaya betrayed them.

“You could go to Celty, see if Shinra and his crazy father can help you look for a cure. You could do a lot of things, but you come to me every month.” Izaya rests his chin on his hand and watches Shizuo carefully. “Is it because you already hate me, so you don't mind me seeing you at your lowest?”

“Fuck you,” Shizuo says, and he marches towards the door. Izaya rolls his eyes and goes back to typing, but he looks up again when he realizes Shizuo hasn't left yet.

“Say whatever the hell you have to and then leave me alone,” Izaya huffs. He needs to finish this assignment soon, and he'd like to do it within the next few hours so he can sleep afterwards.

“I know how rare it is. What you are,” Shizuo says, his back still to Izaya. “Celty told me.”

“I'm surprised you spoke to her about any of it.”

“I didn't tell her what I am. I know she wouldn't judge me for it, but still, I just...” Shizuo trails off, and he turns to face Izaya. “But she knows what you are, and she told me. That's why I came to you.”

“And what did she say about me?” Izaya asks, amused. He knows the courier despises him, but he doesn't care much for her either aside what she can do for him.

“She said there's a reason witches are so rare, and it's because most of them have been killed off.” Shizuo moves closer. “She said the majority of them abused their powers, the same way you do, and that's why they're targeted so often.”

“She neglected to mention the part where it was everyone else who came to us first,” Izaya says sharply, remembering the first time he saw members of the other world. Ghosts, demons, monsters of every kind flocking to him, asking for help. He was a child then, a neglected one at that. He was on his own with no one to help him, and that was when he realized how unfair the world could really be. “You're always barking about how you can't control your strength, well I can't control this. I didn't ask for this either.”

“You did this to me,” Shizuo accuses. It's not the first time he's said it, but Izaya has never admitted to it.

“And if I did?” Izaya asks, annoyed by this entire exchange. “What are you going to do about it?”

Shizuo roars with rage and lurches towards Izaya, lifting him up and slamming him against the wall. He breathes into Izaya's face, his sharp teeth bared.

“Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?!” Shizuo shouts, and suddenly it seems as if he's being deflated, like all the strength is leaving him. He drops Izaya's feet to the floor, but he doesn't step away from Izaya's space. “Why can't you leave me alone?” he asks again, defeated.

“Because you're interesting,” Izaya says, and when he lifts his fingers to Shizuo's face, Shizuo only flinches slightly at the touch. “Because you're right, I'm alone in this, and you were alone, too. You were surrounded by people, but you were alone. No one knows better than me how that feels.”

“You ruined my life,” Shizuo says, no ire to it.

“You ruined mine first,” Izaya says, not bothering to elaborate. Shizuo doesn't seem confused, just tired, and when Izaya tucks his face into Shizuo's neck, the beast only growls softly before allowing it.

The thing about wolves is, they always protect their necks. It's one of their most vulnerable areas. Shizuo is allowing this, and that speaks volumes in itself. Izaya smiles and wraps his arms around Shizuo, clenching his fingers in the fabric of Shizuo's shirt.

“It'd be easier for you, wouldn't it? If you actually hated me,” Izaya murmurs. He presses his lips to Shizuo's neck, and he can feel the tremble of Shizuo's body before Shizuo's arms wrap around him in return.

“You won't die, right? You can't,” Shizuo says, his voice muffled in Izaya's hair.

“Wouldn't it be better for you if I did?” Izaya asks.

“Yes. No. Fuck.” Shizuo kisses the top of Izaya's head, and he makes a disgruntled noise when Izaya pulls away, growling until he realizes what it is Izaya wants. Their lips brush together gently, a complete contrast to all their harsh words and usual actions. “Izaya,” Shizuo breathes, clinging tight enough to Izaya to hurt.

“You won't be alone, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, sighing sweetly when Shizuo kisses him again. They wind up on Izaya's couch, their clothes scattered around them as they give into their basic instincts, showing each other just how beastly they can be.

[malkumtend]

I Like Your Laugh (A Crowsquirrel AU) - Chapter 16.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this.” Tawnypelt drawled quietly.

Crowpaw snorted, “That makes two of us.”

“Well believe it!” Squirrelpaw piped, a tail-length in front of them. Her eyelids dipped into a sneer. “If you’re too scared, why don’t you just turn back?”

“Jabber-mouth.” Tawnypelt mewed quietly, but she was openly amused. Crowpaw scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“As if we could leave you to do this yourselves.” Crowpaw teased, “With your loudmouth, the tribe would just pounce on you the second you enter.”

Squirrelpaw waved her tail dismissively. But both apprentices jolted when they heard a low snort from the huge tom that followed them from behind. “You say that like that isn’t the most likely outcome.”

Crowpaw’s fur laid flat as he turned towards Talon. They had encountered the cat when they’d taken shelter in a cave which was the territory of him and his fellow outcasts. They had all once been members of the Tribe that the clan cats had escaped, sent out by their Tribe to kill Sharptooth. The wounds that coated their pelts told enough about how that mission had gone.

“The Tribe most likely have not forgiven us for failing to kill that beast.” Talon mused, cracking his large head to the side with a grunt. “It wouldn’t be out of character if they wanted to kill us then and there.”

The truth in his words set into Crowpaw’s chest like thorns. They still didn’t know exactly what the Tribe were capable of, they might have escaped them last time, but that was only because they were distracted by Sharptooth. Crowpaw still felt the sting of what had been left of his fight with Crag.

Tawnypelt growled low in her throat, glaring at the outcasted cat. “Aren’t you about as pleasant as a fox.” She grumbled. It was clear she shared his thoughts though; it had been her who had been most against the idea of returning to the Tribe to kill Sharptooth.

Talon shrugged lazily, “The truth isn’t often pleasant in the mountains.”

“Clearly.” Tawnypelt muttered.

Stormfur’s voice rattled from the front. “We’ll be fine!” He insisted, the break in his pitch giving him away. “They still think I’m the prophesised cat! They won’t try to attack me.”

That doesn’t include the rest of us. Crowpaw mused, but he was smart enough to keep silent this time.

“Aren’t you the prophesised cat?” Talon questioned.

Stormfur’s tail went low as his pelt quivered. “I…I don’t know.” He admitted shamefully. He had told the others about his dream, where his mother had visited him with the message of ‘a question that had many answers’. Stormfur didn’t claim to know what this question was, but he seemed to think it had something to do with the Tribe. Hence, why he wanted to go back. “But they think I am. They won’t want to risk it.”

Talon scoffed with a vicious lash of his tail, but he didn’t say anything else.

Crowpaw scowled at the cat, but his heart still wavered at the clear lack of belief from the former cats. They knew the Tribe from experience, knew exactly what they could and would do. Perhaps they were all being foolhardy in going back.

But Stormfur was determined to go there.

And if Stormfur was going, so was Feathertail.

The rest of them couldn’t leave either of them to take on that group by themselves, to take on that beast alone. They saw what Sharpooth was capable of doing to a whole Tribe. There was no way Crowpaw wouldn’t let either of his friends risk their lives like that.

Even if it did mean going back to face that creature as well.

Crowpaw still grimaced, his pelt prickled, at the thought of that. He remembered the terrible memory of the face of the molly that Sharptooth had taken. The fear. The blood. If he had to see that face again, on any other cat, Crowpaw wasn’t sure he would return sane.

If he saw that face on one of his friends, Crowpaw wasn’t sure he’d be able to return at all.

He stiffened, looking up at the cats around him, the cats he’d hated so passionately when this all began. Know, they were all cats he would gladly have by his side in battle, as friends. He knew they all thought the same.

Some thought more than others, Crowpaw knew. His mouth suddenly went dry as he looked up wearily at Feathertail.

No matter what he truly thought of her, he knew that he could never leave her behind. He wanted to help protect all of them, even if he was an apprentice. He wanted to fight with them even if it took him until his last breath.

He wanted to prove why he was chosen by Deadfoot. He wanted to make sure he went home making his father’s name proud. He wanted to go home proving that he was a true warrior.

Most of all, he would help his friends fight Sharptooth because he wanted to go home with them all beside him.

And now, they had a plan for how to take down the beast.

Well, one of them had had a plan. Crowpaw’s tail curled, as he smirked, his eye darting to his side, admiring the young cat walking with him.

“So,” Crowpaw mewed, “You’re sure about this poison idea?”

Squirrelpaw’s tail waved from side to side, she let out a proud purr. “Of course! You saw what Sharptooth was like; that thing will eat anything it can.” Her eyes narrowed, “It’s sure to go for prey literally left right in front of its fat nose.”

Crowpaw looked back for a moment. One of the former Tribe cats carried a wad of leaves in its mouth, carefully making sure to not spill the contents wrapped inside. Just one taste of the death berries and he wouldn’t taste anything again.

Crowpaw hoped they would work on the lion when they were stuffed inside the prey it was eating.

“What if it can smell the berries?” Crowpaw thought aloud.

Squirrelpaw’s nose wrinkled, “Can you smell them?”

“Well…no, but-”

“Then there shouldn’t be a reason that he could either. Sharptooth may be a monster, but it’s still a cat.”

Crowpaw wasn’t sure if he would call that thing a cat after what they’d seen it do, but he kept that to himself. Squirrelpaw had a point, there wasn’t anything to suggest that Sharptooth was different in its sense of smell. Still, he couldn’t help but be cautious. Her idea was their best chance of killing the thing. If it failed…

“You should have more faith in this wise cat.” Squirrelpaw preened, her nose proudly facing the air as she curled her tail; unwittingly, it ran under Crowpaw’s chin. His cheeks began to burn, his eyes screwing tight into a frown. “You might actually learn to appreciate a good idea when it’s given to you!”

“I’m not saying it isn’t a good idea.” Crowpaw mewed, “It’s the only one we have, after all.” He had to concede to that.

“So, stop whingeing then!”

“Look, I do think your plan will work. I’m just…” He groaned. He couldn’t say it, and he could feel her smirk on his skin.

“Oh Crowpaw, stop worrying. We know what to do.” She meowed, a deciding lash in her voice.

He felt her tail thump against his back, hard, hitting the sore wound from when he’d fought with Crag. He let out a muffled hiss of pain, glaring down at Squirrelpaw. That was a cruel move!

His anger faded as Squirrelpaw looked back at him with wide, apologetic eyes. “Sorry!” She cried, “I didn’t mean to get you there!” Crowpaw braced back a little at the flashing guilt on her face. She pressed her pelt against him with a regretful purr. “I’m really sorry.”

Strangely, Crowpaw felt his own stomach twist, any irritation that was left fading as he felt the cat’s soft, fuzzy pelt stroke his own. He could practically feel her skin against his. Her fleecy Thunderclan pelt was softer than anything Crowpaw had felt in his life.

Soft. That was one word that didn’t sound like it belonged anywhere near Squirrelpaw. Crowpaw was pretty certain if he ever called her that she would use her claws to show him just how soft she was. But that was just her. And Crowpaw found himself chuckling at the idea.

She was a ball of fire, this cat. A small ball of fire, but hot-headed enough to burn those who fanned her flames enough. Once, Crowpaw saw it as abrasive. Now, it was one of the things he loved the most about her. She had a quick mind, and often enough it would make Crowpaw laugh out loud.

Starclan knew, he’d never laughed so much before he met her.

And when she let the hardness drop, when she actually let herself become, well, soft, it never seemed out of place. She was just a kindhearted cat underneath all that fur. Crowpaw simpered as he watched her gaze up at him, still brimming with guilt. The emerald core in her eyes flickered hopefully, sending a shine across her face. When she was this close, Crowpaw could catch the fresh tang of wildflowers that marked her like a gentle wind.

Her eyes sparkled up at him, and Crowpaw felt his tail fur frazzle. He struggled to keep stoic as he processed his own thoughts. He’d never noticed it before, but Squirrelpaw glimmered when he looked at her. The way her bright ginger fur blazed beside the dark ginger stripes that cascaded along her back, the white tufts that ran down her jawline and belly, the emerald sheen of her eyes that glittered like full moonlight.

Alongside her broad nature, it was hard to catch at first glimpse, but this cat was undeniably cute.

A soft rumble echoed in Crowpaw’s throat. His eyes widened and he quickly coughed it away. “I-It’s fine!” He said curtly, pressing his tail against her flank. “It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore!” He added, sucking in his cheeks in order to stop them from burning.

Squirrelpaw let out a soft mew, grateful but biting. “Of course, it doesn’t.” She teased, gently tapping his rump with the tip of her tail.

She didn’t say anything after that, but Crowpaw didn’t notice from how his mind fizzed. He did just about catch her face flicker with realisation as she saw how close she was to him. She took a light step away, but nowhere near far enough to say that there was a problem between them, to Crowpaw’s relief.

Desperate to break the delicate tension, Crowpaw let words form in his throat. They never came out though, as a call from the front made the apprentices look up.

“Crowpaw!”

The grey apprentice looked up. Stormfur met his gaze from the front, he’d slowed down in his pace, obviously waiting. “Could I talk to you for a moment?” His eyes were still misty, a nervous twitch running across his back.

Crowpaw jerked his paw up, scratching a patch on his neck that suddenly tingled. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Stormfur, it was just who he saw when he looked at him. The Windclan cat felt his insides dance at the thought that Stormfur knew what was going on between him and his sister.

Speaking of which, Feathertail was moving back away from her brother, inviting Crowpaw to take her place beside him. Her eyes met his briefly and she gave him a tender smile. “Go on.” She purred.

Had she said something to him? About Crowpaw? The grey tom muttered a low moan. He didn’t like the look of this.

“What are you so scared of?” Squirrelpaw said, raising a brow.

Crowpaw jolted, giving the molly a deadly stare. “I’m not scared!”

“Then get on up there.” She smirked, “You might want to hold your tail between your legs to stop it twitching.”

Crowpaw forced himself to stiffen, his cheeks going dark again. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t scared, he was just…worried. Crowpaw managed a silent growl. Fox-dung to this!

“Don’t worry, he’s not angry at you or anything.” Feathertail mewed. Crowpaw’s brows raised up as he saw Squirrelpaw’s tail flick in confusion. What was Feathertail doing? Did she want the others to know about how she felt about him?

“I-I know that!” Crowpaw spat out the words like a death berry before it could go down his throat. “Why would he be angry at me? Why would I even care if he was?”

Immediately, he began to regret how loud he was being. He noticed several of Talon’s group exchange confused glances with each other, Squirrelpaw still looked at him as if his fur had turned white, and Feathertail was just chuckling knowingly to herself.

“Just go.” Feathertail mewed lightly, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “He doesn’t bite…much.”

Crowpaw felt the shiver go down his back again. “H-Ha ha.” He deadpanned.

“Crowpaw, please can you just get up here?” Stormfur’s voice meowed again, his tail waved to him impatiently. “I want to talk to you about something.” Crowpaw shifted uneasily. It was true that Stormfur didn’t sound especially irritable or hostile.

Ah, mouse-fur! He’d just make a bigger scene if he refused.

“Alright.” Crowpaw said, beginning to pad up to the Warrior. He just about managed to ignore the soft snickering of Feathertail and the judging groan of Squirrelpaw. Stormfur kept his eyes on him, gentle and patient, as Crowpaw began to get closer.

The Windclan tom felt something tighten inside him; with every paw step he was noticing just how tall the grey Warrior was. In fact, he towered above him, and Crowpaw knew it wasn’t just the plumy pelt that made Stormfur look as strong as he was.

It was unlikely that the Warrior would pounce on him, but it was still a possibility that made Crowpaw tense. He liked Feathertail, but if this Warrior wanted a fight, Crowpaw wouldn’t hold back.

Crowpaw bit his lip, intending to cause some pain. What was he thinking? By Starclan, Squirrelpaw was right. He needed to stop anticipating the worst.

Still, standing right next to him, knowing that his sister liked him like he did, Crowpaw really didn’t value his chances.

“Hey.” Stormfur said, friendly enough, once Crowpaw was next to him.

Crowpaw tried not to sound like his throat was lodged with frogspawn. “Um, hey. Everything alright?” After what the tom had been through, it was polite enough to ask that.

Stormfur scoffed, albeit without a hint of malice. “You do know where we’re going right?”

“You know what I mean!” Crowpaw snapped, glowering when Stormfur mustered a throaty laugh. Starclan above, being nice was overrated sometimes.

“Easy there.” Stormfur smirked. “You really get riled easily.”

Crowpaw growled.

“I’m just kidding.” Stormfur looked down, his neck fur fuzzing. Crowpaw narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t respond. The Riverclan cat loosened, softening his gaze on the apprentice. “I’m doing as well as I can, considering the circumstances. You?”

Crowpaw shrugged, “I’m fine, I guess.” His eyelids halved across his eyes, “I mean we’re going back to a tribe that held us prisoner and expected you to take down a cat ten times your size, so I suppose I have some concerns.” He couldn’t help it; he was still struggling to grasp just what they were doing.

Stormfur muttered tonelessly, giving his shoulder an embarrassed lick. “Yeah… I can understand that.” It should have been Stormfur who was the most concerned about this, he was the one who was the target of the Tribe’s greed.

Crowpaw felt a slight worry creep over him. “They didn’t attack you, did they?”

“Oh? No, they didn’t. They just kept me in that cave, giving me prey every couple of hours.” Stormfur mewed calmly, “For the most part, they didn’t even talk to me. Except for that Stoneteller cat.” He drawled over the word like it was venom.

Crowpaw’s fur smoothed down, reprieved. He didn’t think the cat looked like he was harmed, but it was good to hear it from him.

“Anyway,” Stormfur sniffed, looking up absently for a moment before looking down cloudily at Crowpaw. “I heard that it was you that stuck by Feathertail while they were keeping me there.”

The chill scratched all over Crowpaw. His paws. His legs. His back. His breath.

“Who told you that?”

“Brambleclaw.” Stormfur said, still not taking off the eyes Crowpaw felt but couldn’t meet. He prided himself on being strong, on having guts that no other apprentice did. But now, he felt small, judged, guilty. He bristled at the name, his eyes sliding to the side where the brown tom trudged ahead with an apprehensive wilt on his whiskers.

Trust him to spill it. Crowpaw sulked. He hadn’t even seen the tom looking at them. “Look, it was nothing bad.” Stormfur said, his tone a curious mix of impatience and soothing. Whatever it was, it didn’t help ease anything.

“What was it then?” Crowpaw’s heart tightened for the worst.

The heavy grey paws softened as they walked on. Stormfur’s muzzle sagged a little. “I was worried about how she’d been, so I asked him.” He paused for a moment. “His exact words were that you stuck by your friends when they needed it. That you were able to stop her crying throughout that awful night.”

Crowpaw’s neck stiffened up.

The blue stare whipped back to the brown tom. Not with bitterness, but with complete surprise.

Was he actually trying to help me?

It was true. Crowpaw had comforted Feathertail, but Brambleclaw had confirmed that? To the cat that if he knew the full story would never trust Crowpaw anywhere near Feathertail?

The tom that he’d hated more than foxes, and had held him in the same regard, had done that.

Crowpaw could only stare ahead. Stunned.

“So?” Stormfur waited.

“Well, yeah. Of course, I did.” Crowpaw held. He’d had to do it; he couldn’t stand seeing her so upset. He’d do it again if he needed to. Feathertail would always be his friend and that meant he would always be there for her when she needed it.

If that was all he could do.

“Did any of them hurt her?” Stormfur asked. Crowpaw was glad to see the growl on the edge of his lips was not directed at him.

“No. They tried to be as hospitable as they could.” Crowpaw drawled mockingly. That stupidly polite tone they’d kept when they were literally holding them all prisoner had aggravated him to no end. “They didn’t attack any of us. Until I leapt at them that is.” Crowpaw used his tail to point out the swelled mark from when Crag had swiped at him the night they’d found out the Tribe’s real intentions.

A small murmur of relief left Stormfur, followed by a light chuckle. “Of course you did.” He shook his head, glimmering with recognition. “But she wasn’t hurt right?”

“No. They never got her.” Crowpaw wasn’t sure he would be alive if they had.

“Good.” Stormfur sighed. The relief in his eyes gave a sense of ease to Crowpaw. It didn’t look like the tom suspected anything. Crowpaw caught notice when Stormfur’s tail went flat and his head dipped down. The fur on his back lowered along with the shine in his eyes. “I should never have trusted them.” Stormfur said quietly.

Crowpaw groaned. Not this stupid moping again! He swatted Stormfur’s front leg with a sheathed paw. “How many times do we have to tell you? It wasn’t your fault.”

Stormfur had kept this gloomy mood ever since they’d gotten him out; muttering constant apologies and self-aimed scolds about how it was his fault for getting so close to the tribe and keeping the group there longer than they’d originally planned.

Perhaps there was a layer of truth to the latter part, Crowpaw considered bitterly. But it wouldn’t have mattered regardless.

“They wouldn’t have let you leave no matter what you thought of them. It’s not your fault they betrayed us.”

“But I wanted to stay.” Stormfur admitted, a shiver in his breath. “I actually wanted to spend more time there when you all wanted to leave.”

“So what?” Crowpaw snapped. “That’s just because they were teaching you their hunting techniques.” Crowpaw muttered to his side with a sneer. “That might be the best thing they ever did actually. Now you can actually hunt properly.”

“Oh, pack it in!” Stormfur meowed, but his upturned lips exposed a small grin.

Crowpaw whipped his tail smoothly. “Look, I don’t want to repeat myself here. It wasn’t your fault, alright? Nobody here thinks it was. Even if you’d wanted to leave after the first night, those cave-scum would have just kept you prisoner. You are their chosen cat after all.” Crowpaw added with a roll of his eyes. Stormfur took note of it, his brow knotting.

“I still could be, you know?”

“And I could lose my mind and jump off the waterfall for a nice swim. Doesn’t mean it’s likely?”

Stormfur’s muzzle creased. “Well, knowing you…”

“Shut it!”

“Seriously though. I don’t think this is just a mistake, Crowpaw.” Stormfur looked as if the thought made him scared. “Silverstream came to me, there has to be something else going on here.”

You said she didn’t tell you what she meant though. Crowpaw thought sceptically. He kept silent, however. He didn’t need the Warrior to start moping again.

“Besides,” Stormfur’s pelt prickled with anxiety, as if he was having trouble processing his own thoughts. “We all saw what Sharptooth did. As much as I hate them for what they did, they don’t deserve that.”

Crowpaw looked up, narrowing his eyes in bemusement. Was he talking about the Tribe? “Are you mouse-brained? They held us all prisoner for Starclan’s sake!” Crowpaw exclaimed, “They practically wanted to sacrifice you to that monster! Why would you feel sorry for them?”

“They did a terrible thing.” Stormfur agreed, but his eyes flickered with a deep pity, and something else. “But they were just desperate for their pain to end. Every clan has been guilty of that at some point.”

“That’s a load of rabbit-dung.” Crowpaw muttered hotly. “They got in the way of our journey. Who cares what happens to them?” He’d seen them fighting the group, he’d felt Crag’s claws over his pelt, he’d seen the marks the Tribe had left on Squirrelpaw. Even if they were desperate for some kind of solution, Crowpaw couldn’t forgive them for what they did.

“They weren’t all bad.”

“Oh why?” Crowpaw scoffed. Was Stormfur really that naïve? “Because they gave you prey? Oh, please. That’s like a mouse thanking us for playing with it for a while before we kill it.”

“Don’t be mouse-brained.” Stormfur said, an edge of hostility to his voice. Crowpaw furrowed his brow, Stormfur’s compliance sending a frustrated quiver along his back.

“All right then!” Crowpaw spat, “Name one cat there who you think deserves our help.”

Shock filled Stormfur’s for a cold moment, and he hesitated. Crowpaw scoffed, thinking he had caught Stormfur out. But bizarrely, there did look to be an answer in Stormfur. He looked to worried to speak the name though.

Finally, he relented. “Brook.” He said quietly.

Crowpaw had to think for a moment to remember the cat, then the pictures came back. Vague images of Stormfur going off on his own, hunting and talking, with a sleek, brown molly. Crowpaw had thought of it as nothing but friendly banter at the time. But now when he looked back on it, he could just about remember the way Stormfur would trill excitedly around her or the way his eyes would glow with joy.

Oh, he had to be kidding him.

“Really?” Crowpaw sighed, Stormfur looked away in embarrassment. It was clear to the both of them what they were talking about now.

“Is that why we’re going back?” Crowpaw’s tail whipped angrily. Was this all some stupid way for Stormfur to prove his love to some she-cat?

“Of course not!” Stormfur declared, his anger flaring. “I’m going back because I believe in what Silverstream said, and I will respect her advice.”

Crowpaw huffed. Likely story. He decided to keep quiet on that though. No matter what reason Stormfur had for going back, Crowpaw couldn’t deny that if Silverstream had visited Stormfur that meant that Starclan had to be intertwined in this someway. Maybe there was a chance that this was part of their journey after all.

Besides, what did he care who Stormfur liked? It was far too late for him to be judging cats for falling in love outside of their clan. Although…

Crowpaw stiffened a little as his blue stare met Stormfur. “I thought you liked Squirrelpaw.” He said, his voice low.

Stormfur convulsed where he stood, his body wracking up and down with a series of humiliated hacks, like he was trying to cough up a frog. He inhaled deeply to compose himself, but the second he found Crowpaw’s bored, knowing stare, his head ducked away again with a fluttering shame.

“Am I wrong?” Crowpaw asked, raising an annoyed brow.

“Y-Yes and no.” Stormfur tried his best to sound solid. He looked down at the apprentice frigidly, his whiskers twitching sheepishly. “I thought I did. But now, I’m not so sure.”

Crowpaw’s lip curled; how couldn’t Stormfur know whether or not he liked… He paused, softening all over.

Stormfur didn’t seem to realise. “I mean, at the time, I definitely liked her.” He said, keeping his voice quiet as he glanced back at the ginger cat fondly. “She’s an amazing cat, no doubt about it, and I hope to see her more when we get back home. But…” Something entirely different came into his eyes. Something made purely of bliss and ecstasy. Crowpaw had seen it before on Feathertail’s face.

“But Brook… she’s different.”

Crowpaw said nothing.

“I know we were only there a few days. But whenever I was around her, I just felt happy.” Whatever he was thinking looked like they made Stormfur the happiest that Crowpaw had ever seen him. “I could talk to her from sunhigh to sunset and not get bored, like we could tell each other everything. It was completely different to what I felt for Squirrelpaw.”

Crowpaw was hearing all this for the first time, and yet somehow he felt he could understand completely where Stormfur was coming from.

Stormfur sighed, “I guess that sounds like a load of frog-dung to you, huh? That’s fine.”

“No.”

Stormfur reared up in surprise. “Wait. Really?”

Crowpaw looked up gingerly, his mind clouded with thought. “So, you just knew that you felt something different then, right? You knew something was up? There was something else you felt.” He kept his tone stony enough but closed in was the edges of hope - or it may have been disappointment.

Stormfur’s eyes lit up. “That’s exactly it! I couldn’t stop thinking about it for a day! You know what it’s like?”

Crowpaw didn’t know if he could answer that. He tried to picture Stormfur’s feelings and twist them in his own memories. They were patchy and disjointed, he tried to grasp on to the conclusion he sought. At times he felt he could understand Stormfur’s emotions, but other times he wondered that he didn’t.

It was a jumbled, frustrating mess.

Stormfur took Crowpaw’s silence in, his face changing. A realisation swept over him, a blend of irritation and acceptance. His yellow eyes dimmed down heavily, and he breathed in like the ocean swallowing the tide.

“Right. Of course, you understand.”

What Stormfur was suggesting was as clear as the mountain’s peak. Crowpaw began to feel bad because he didn’t understand.  He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he still felt sympathy for the grey Warrior. Sorry that he couldn’t truly grasp what the Warrior was feeling. Sorry that Stormfur thought his assumptions were the clear truth. Sorry that he didn’t feel how Stormfur expected that he felt.

But he was never one for making that clear.

So, with a dread that was beginning to sting, he kept his mouth shut.

But Stormfur, mollified and flaming with an adverse accession, carried on. “Listen.” His voice was softer than Crowpaw could ever commemorate. He glanced behind them and Crowpaw didn’t need to look to know who he was thinking about. “I just wanted to thank you, for looking out for her while I was gone. I really do appreciate it.”

A hopeful relief came to Crowpaw. The hope that that was the end of it all. He could accept that and move on.

But of course, it wasn’t the end.

“And also,” Stormfur carried on, a weariness muffling him. He coughed and gave Crowpaw a trusting look. “She – She told me that she’s let you know how she feels...about you.”

Crowpaw’s silence was telling.

“I-”

“And, I want you to know that if you decide to carry on with,” He sighed, “This; That I hope you can make each other happy.”

There was such faith in the way Stormfur spoke that Crowpaw thought he was going to be sick.

Through a clenched throat, he just about whispered, regretting how much it sounded like the nervousness that confirmed Stormfur’s acceptance. “You’d be fine with that.”

There was an apprehensive moan in the way he spoke, but his smile was fragile and defeated. He’d given up and taken what he thought with the best he could. “I’d be a real hypocrite if I wasn’t, right?”

He probably would be. But he wasn’t. Because what he suspected wasn’t correct. And Crowpaw wished he knew why. Small parts of him wanted to let Stormfur’s acceptance actually mean something, but he didn’t know if he could.

He wasn’t like Stormfur. He didn’t know what Stormfur felt. He hadn’t changed like that. Maybe he should have felt that he had, but it wasn’t the truth.

But how could he tell him or her that. It wasn’t the time.

Crowpaw managed to drain away from the conversation with some quip at Stormfur’s expense, the kind that was too cryptic and cowardly to be a real explanation. But it worked. It kept them calm before they made their way into a more dangerous situation. Still, Crowpaw knew he’d have to say something to her soon enough.

She deserved an answer.

She didn’t deserve the one that Crowpaw would give.

She was beautiful, no doubt. She was kind, she was loyal, she was brave, she was one of the best friends he could ask for, and he didn’t want to lose any of that.

But he hadn’t been changed like Stormfur.

He did love her. But it wasn’t the way that she loved him.

He didn’t know why it was like that, but it was the way it was. And he felt terrible for it, despite his straight face. He felt like his own intestines were trying to suffocate him as if to punish his decision. He couldn’t even look back because he knew that if he saw her face, the guilty sting would crawl all over him again.

Soon enough he’d have to face it though. She’d been brave enough to come to him, she had earnt the same from him.

And she would get it. But they would focus on this first. He would face her when they had dealt with that thing back at the Tribe. Then once this was all over, when they were ready to continue on their journey, he’d be able to tell her the truth.

He hoped she would forgive him.

-

We will leave Crowpaw in his grave mood for the moment. Because as he’d walked away to meet the grey Warrior who’d called him over, two she-cats who shared a similar interest in him were watching him head off with his head dipped and his tail between his legs.

Squirrelpaw groaned with barely disguised exasperation. “Honestly, what’s creeping over his pelt?” Crowpaw never let himself look like this, in fact he practically battled to look like the strongest cat every day, so seeing him so rattled was nearly stupid for Squirrelpaw.

Feathertail snickered softly, “He does look pretty shaky, doesn’t he?” If there was a hint of knowing buried in the Warrior’s tone, Squirrelpaw didn’t catch it. Feathertail exhaled, “Still, it isn’t like it isn’t normal. We don’t know how the Tribe will ‘greet’ us after what happened.”

Squirrelpaw frowned. She already had a clear idea how the Tribe would react. Her cheek still stung enough to remind her of their last encounter. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure they know were the only chance they have.”

Feathertail smiled, a glowing purr in her throat. “Don’t you mean your plan’s the only chance they have.”

The apprentice beamed a confident grin, but she still blushed from the praise. “Yep!” She chirped. “With a little help from her merry group!”

The Riverclan cat trilled with amusement, “It will make an excellent story for their kits!”

Even in the realisation of what they were heading towards, the two couldn’t help but laugh. It wouldn’t be too long now, and that was a good thing. The sky was beginning to darken, and in the dirty grey above them, the pale outline of the moon was becoming clearer. Soon the light would be glistening on the waterfall and Sharptooth’s hour would come.

But behind her laughter, and what she’d said to Crowpaw, Squirrelpaw had to feel a little nervous. They would definitely be prisoners rather than ‘guests’ when they inevitably ran into the Tribe guards, and whether their help would be accepted after their escape didn’t look so likely.

Hopefully the Tribe cats had the sense to listen.

Squirrepaw didn’t count on it.

She looked back to where Crowpaw was now openly talking with Stormfur. She gave Feathertail a cautious glance. “How’s he doing?” She asked her friend – that was what she had to focus on, her friend – gently.

Feathertail turned to Squirrelpaw smoothly, a small grateful smile on her muzzle. “Better than I hoped.” She replied, “It doesn’t look like they hurt him. He was shaken up earlier, but he looks like he’s getting better.”

“That’s good.” Squirrelpaw said, her tail gently tapping the Warrior’s back leg. She had been worried that Stormfur had been injured; no one knew what those cats could have done to him. She pressed her pelt against Feathertail’s. “At least he’s back where he belongs.”

“True.” Feathertail said returning the gentle touch. She looked so content that it made Squirrelpaw ache a little. What had she been thinking? Trying to avoid the two of- Ugh. She was glad it didn’t look like Feathertail had suspected anything from it. She didn’t need Squirrelpaw’s problems to be added to her own.

She’d thought giving them time alone would have helped them along. It had just created a needless wedge between the trio. It had been them from the beginning. If it wasn’t for Feathertail, Squirrelpaw would have never made such close friends, would have never given her best friend a chance, would have been left alone with a Warrior who didn’t respect her.

When it came down to everything, all that had been good for Squirrelpaw since the journey began had started due to Feathertail’s kindness.

She really was the greatest Warrior Squirrelpaw had ever met.

She was everything Squirrelpaw could ever wish she could be.

Squirrelpaw tried to pretend swallowing didn’t feel like holding back everything bad.

“Are you okay as well?” The ginger cat said, fighting the stiffness along her jaw.

Feathertail shrugged flimsily, “I’m just glad he’s safe.” She looked to the side, “I am worried about all this though.”

Squirrelpaw nodded, “I don’t blame you. Do you really think your mother told Stormfur that he was the chosen cat?” She asked guardedly, careful to not sound as if she didn’t trust him.

It didn’t look like Feathertail was offended. She did squirm a little though, her lips tightening and her pelt quivering. “I do believe that he saw Silverstream, I’m still not sure if it means he’s the “silver cat” though.”

The nervousness in her voice surprised Squirrelpaw - something lingered in it. “You think Stormfur made a mistake?”

“Not exactly. I do think it has to do with the Tribe.”

Squirrelpaw’s ears perked up, “How come?”

Feathertail’s face twisted. Squirrelpaw was sure she’d seen the Warrior’s face go through all the negative emotions at least one. Anger. Fear. Despair. But what pulled at Feathertail’s expression was something new, something cold, complete stone cut uncertainty and mystery. The silver tail swung in contemplation, before going still as Feathertail’s soft voice came back.

“The night before we left, I heard something.”

“What?” Squirrelpaw just about made sure her voice wasn’t a shout. “What was it?” She asked, her eyes wide. It had to be something important if Feathertail was like this.

Feathertail looked ahead, as if staring into the pull of a whirlpool. “They were quiet.” She said slowly, “But I’m sure I heard voices behind the waterfall.”

“Couldn’t they have just been the Tribe?”

“No. I mean, it was like they were… inside the Waterfall.” Feathertail moaned, realising how foolish it all sounded. Squirrelpaw was taken aback. Inside the waterfall? That didn’t make any sense. Could it have just been the Tribe’s voices echoing around the cave.

Squirrelpaw gingerly tapped Feathertail’s shoulder. “Well, what did they say?”

Feathertail sighed, “It was stuff about the silver cat.”

Squirrelpaw rose a brow. That didn’t really help that much. “Are you sure it wasn’t any of the Tribe cats?”

Feathertail looked at her, Squirrelpaw flinched at the crest-fallen expression. “It didn’t sound like any of them. They were… quieter. Whispery.”

Squirrelpaw felt a chill caress her spine. No matter who they were, it didn’t sound good. “So, what does this mean?”

“I can’t say for certain.” Feathertail meowed honestly, her eyes shimmering. “But doesn’t it seem a little odd that after I heard these voices, Stormfur also gets a visit from Silverstream.” Squirrelpaw’s brows raised up to the point they may have left her forehead. “Maybe… we are meant to deal with the Tribe.”

“So Stormfur’s the silver cat?” Squirrelpaw gaped. If Feathertail was right, who knew what was going on?

“I’m not saying that. I don’t see how any cat could kill that thing on their own.” Feathertail shuffled where she stood, glancing up to the darkening sky. One lone star blinked at her, glinting in the blue ocean of her eyes. “I just think that our run in with the Tribe wasn’t as random as we thought.”

Another tremor crossed the apprentice’s back. Feathertail looked dead serious; did that mean that she thought Starclan was involved? Why would Starclan put them through all this? Would it have not made sense to tell Stormfur about this before they’d begun the journey? They should have told him if he truly was chosen for this.

It sounded way too implausible for Squirrelpaw. Starclan had told all of the chosen cats where they were heading, and then they’d made it. It was Midnight who’d given them the directions back. She couldn’t see why Stormfur wouldn’t have already been told about something as important as this. Still, what was clear was that both the Riverclan siblings had shared some kind of vision about this ‘silver cat’. So maybe it was true that they were meant to kill Sharptooth.

Squirrelpaw huffed to herself. Would have been nice to know that at the beginning.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Feathertail said, breaking the silence. “Whatever these voices or visions mean, I’m not going to leave Stormfur behind to do this alone.” Her tail lashed with a cutting finality.

“None of us are.” Squirrelpaw meowed, her claws unsheathing a little, already picturing the hostility the Tribe would show them. If that Crag wanted anymore scars, Squirrelpaw would be happy to oblige! “We’re in this together.”

Feathertail gave the apprentice an adoring lick on the ear. “I know how grateful he is for all your bravery.”

Squirrelpaw blushed, pulling away with a chuckle. “Make sure to remind him to thank us.” She looked up at the grey Warrior ahead, her smile fading to confusion as she saw him visibly twitching, with what she could only assume was embarrassment, while Crowpaw looked on monotonously at him. “What in Silverpelt are they talking about?”

“Hm?” Feathertail followed her gaze, pausing for a tense moment, before her eyes widened, her pale cheeks darkening. “Oh. Them.”

Squirrelpaw raised a brow, “Crowpaw was acting like a punished kit earlier, now Stormfur looks like he’s stepped in fox-dung? What’s up with them?”

Feathertail looked away, and Squirrelpaw saw that her blush was only darkening. Her tail was tucking down, hiding away like a mouse in its den. Squirrelpaw looked to her, knowing well that Feathetail’s eyes were twitching from side to side nervously. “Feathertail?”

The Warrior slowly turned, giving the Thunderclan cat a long look. There was small, but hard, trust growing on her face. Squirrelpaw gulped, suddenly feeling sick. “I…I think I know.” Feathertail mewed.

Squirrelpaw had guessed that. “Okay…so?”

Feathertail smiled weakly, rubbing closer to the smaller cat. Squirrelpaw felt colder at the touch. “You see, Squirrelpaw,” Feathertail said gently, “I may have told Stormfur about certain…” She hesitated, a shadow falling over her eyes. Then with a sudden bravery, she found Squirrelpaw’s trembling pupils.

And it was all revealed.

In that instant moment, the brief second that she met those blue pools, full and swarming with love and caution, Squirrelpaw knew what they were talking about, she knew what Stormfur was talking about with Crowpaw, and she knew that Feathertail was about to share something life threatening with her.

And despite the fact that she already knew what she was about to say, and that she had known about it for a long, excruciating time. In her mind, she still begged for Feathertail to not say it.

But beside the pleading in her mind, she kept still and maintained her false shock.

“Certain feelings I have… about Crowpaw.” Feathertail’s eyes sank a little as if the mere saying of it wasn’t enough of an explanation.

Squirrelpaw didn’t stop in her tracks as her thoughts were clarified with a burning honesty. She didn’t twitch or fall like she imagined she would days ago. She just carried on walking, as if there wasn’t anything vaguely troubling about it.

“I see.” She said finally. “Does, um, Crowpaw know about it?”

Feathertail nodded frailly, “I told him before we rescued Stormfur.”

He knows. Those two words pounded so hard in Squirrelpaw’s ears, thrashing and crashing until they made themselves settled in her brain. Squirrelpaw respected Feathertail just a little more at that moment. She had been able to come out and say it and was now possibly reaping the rewards.

But then again, she didn’t know or suspect how Squirrelpaw felt. And that was how it was going to stay.

Squirrelpaw could see, just see, how much Feathertail loved the tome when she looked at him. Squirrelpaw understood it well, she had no reason to go against the molly. No good reason, anyway.

“Okay.” Squirrelpaw said.

Feathertail mrrowed with surprise. “Okay? That’s it.”

What else do you want me to say? A little voice at the back of her mind was scratching to be released. Squirrelpaw kept it muzzled. “Is something wrong?”

“N-No, I just thought you’d be more shocked.”

“Well, I’m surprised,” She lied, “But, I mean, you’re both my best friends. I’ve got nothing against it.” That was a half-lie.

“Really?”

“Really.” Not quite.

An incredible relief and grace passed over the Warrior. Her smile gleamed so brightly that Squirrelpaw had to respond with her own. She did realise however that she needed to act more natural than this. Her head cocked up with an amused snort. “Though I can’t for the life of me think why you would want to be with him of all cats.”

That was an impossibly big lie.

And Feathertail countered it, she talked about his bravery, his wit, the kind nature he kept hidden like a pearl behind his prickly exterior, how he had always seemed to be there for her. All were qualities Squirrelpaw understood, very well.

“Okay, okay. Maybe there are a couple of good things about him.” Squirrelpaw chirped. She knew the atmosphere cooled when Feathertail erupted with a delighted mrrow. “So, you told Stormfur then?”

Feathertail looked aside again, “Yes.”

“And?” Squirrelpaw remembered how Stormfur had suspected this all along. She doubted he’d be too pleased to find out he was right. He’d already lost one family member because of a situation like this.

Feathertail found her brother again, wistfully. “He…He didn’t really say anything. He just listened as I explained what happened and, well, now he’s talking to Crowpaw.” She breathed in softly. “It doesn’t look so bad, so far.”

It was true. Stormfur looked more nervous than the apprentice. So it wasn’t like the tom was threatening to rip the younger cat’s ears off.

That was good for Feathertail.

“Just wait. We all know Crowpaw has a way with words.” Squirrelpaw jibed. “He can’t help himself.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Feathertail moaned.

“It is true.” It was something that made her laugh.

Feathertail groaned, but it was laced with defeat. “I just hope they’ll be fine until after this is done.”

“I was just joking. You know neither of them would start something now. If they’re smart, they’ll save whatever anger they have for Sharptooth.”

Feathertail grinned, “Well, they are toms.”

The laughter burst up again. It made Squirrelpaw tired. She found her eyes on the ground. What she thought, she did not want to say, but she would. It would be the last collision she needed for acceptance.

She breathed in and out, preparing her voice.

It left her like she’d been winded.

She sniffed forcefully, trying again, two more deep cycles of breath.

“Crowpaw likes you too then?” Did that sound as quiet or painful as it did in her head?

For a long moment, Feathertail was quiet, then above her thin smile, her eyes lidded halfway. “I…I don’t know.”

The fact that concern was the first thing to strike Squirrelpaw was bizarre. She expected many things, but the worry that made her jolt up was not one of them. She just couldn’t stop herself, the small pitch of unease in her friend’s throat made her twist. “W-What do you mean?”

Feathertail shrugged, “He said he needed some time to think about it.”

Squirrelpaw hid her internal screaming with an open gape. “He-He what?!”

Feathertail giggled lightly, “It shouldn’t be surprising. Honestly with how close Windclan are known for when it comes to Starclan I expected a simple rejection.”

She made it sound small. How did she do that?

Squirrelpaw’s mind was in a full on breakdown. What the heck?! Time to think?! Could Crowpaw not just get it over with and save them all the trouble. She knew it was silly, but Squirrelpaw could feel a vein throb as her blood began to boil! Her vein splintered eyes whirled to where Crowpaw was, his handsome face making her teeth chatter furiously.

“That mouse-brain!” She seethed in a whisper. Feathertail had had the bravery to do what Squirrelpaw had wanted to do herself, and the tom just didn’t give her an answer! Is that what he would have done if she had told him how she felt?

Feathertail let out a rumble of humour, “Don’t be angry with him. It’s not that hard to imagine. You’ve seen what happens when it comes to… half-clan cats.”

Squirrelpaw thought of Greystripe, his kits, how they could only ever meet at gatherings now. There was truth to Feathertail’s words.

But Crowpaw was the one with the problem. “So that’s what bothers him, is it” A part of Squirrelpaw wanted to storm up to the tom. Squirrelpaw had been writhing for days over this, and this was what they all got. An anti-climax! “By Starclan, he should count himself lucky that someone like you would like a mouse-brain like him!”

That was painful to say as well. But Squirrelpaw’s mouth was ahead of every part of her brain, she was steaming! Feathertail was amazing, how could he throw a chance like that away!

Feathertail rubbed her tail over her friend’s pelt, chuckling. “Thank you, Squirrelpaw. But he has a right to say no.” The lowering in her tone made it clear that wasn’t what Feathertail would like to hear, but she kept up. Squirrelpaw’s anger twisted with marvel. How could this cat be so strong about things that made Squirrelpaw lose her mind? “If he says no, that is.”

It hit Squirrelpaw like an extended branch.

Crowpaw hadn’t denied anything. He still had all the time in the world to say yes. Maybe he was a fool for waiting like this, but she doubted Feathertail would mind if it led to the answer she craved.

Suddenly Squirrelpaw’s anger left, replaced by irritation and a queasiness she could remember well.

No matter what it was, Feathertail still had a chance. Possibly a good chance, Crowpaw certainly wasn’t the cat to think about something unless he was genuinely considering it.

Feathertail coughed, her face caught in a mix between embarrassment and relief. “Honestly, it’s fine. I’m just happy he wants to continue being friends.”

Don’t lie. I know. I know you want to be more.

“I-If he says yes. What are you going to do about the clans?” Squirrelpaw asked, out of pained obligation and self-hating curiosity.

The look on her Feathertail’s face said it all. Her shoulders dipped. “Who knows? I’m really just making it up as I go along.” She joked. “But I’m still hopeful. The clans might be different when we go back.”

“You think Riverclan would accept that?”

Only a flash conveyed the deep-rooted unrest in the Warrior’s heart. “They… accepted me and Stormfur…”

Realisation wounded Squirrelpaw. “I-I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” Feathertail mewed gently. “Look, I don’t know Squirrelpaw. I’m just hoping for the best. I’ve seen enough of Riverclan to know what can happen.” Her tongue slithered a little at that, before radiance glinted in her eyes again. “But I’ve also seen what the best they can do. Though, I can’t lie, I won’t be rushing to tell everyone in Riverclan.”

Squirrelpaw thought long and hard; rejection and acceptance casted shadows and hope in her mind, hope for Feathertail. Yes, the clans could change, her father was proof of that. But the line between Greystripe and his kits was also proof of their deep seeded traditions.

Like everything recently, there would be no answer until they faced it head on.

But then the last sentence came back, making the ginger molly look up incredulously. “If you’re so worried about how cats will react, why are you telling me this?”

Feathertail rose a brow, purring with a puzzled mrrow. “Because I trust you.” She smiled, “I mean you’re not ranting at me right now, so I guess I was right to do so!” She laughed, pressing her pelt against her friend.

Squirrelpaw felt sick.

Feathertail trusted her. Trusted her with something like this. Squirrelpaw trusted her as well. She knew if she said it, Feathertail wouldn’t recoil with disgust, but it wouldn’t be much better. She did trust Feathertail, but she couldn’t tell her that. The risks were there, sharp and crooked.

“Oh.” Squirrelpaw, trying to muster a cheeky laugh. “Well, I guess you should count yourself lucky then.”

“I already do!”

“Well,” Squirrelpaw smiled to pass away the sinking feeling in her gut. “Thanks for telling me! I hope he’s smart enough to make the right decision!” She did hope that. She wanted to go home and see her friends happy. She wanted to see them get past everything and succeed. Even if she wasn’t part of it.

Feathertail gave her a look that could melt ice. “I should be thanking you. I was honestly not too sure about telling you, but… it didn’t feel right. I don’t want to lie to you. After all, I’m sure you’d hear about it sooner or later from one of us.”

Squirrelpaw wondered if Feathertail was naïve or if she was just that lovely.

She cared about her either way.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Feathertail.” Squirrelpaw said, a lot more calmly than she felt. But that was how they were. “You can tell me anything.”

I’m in love with him as-

No.

She couldn’t do the same.

Feathertail pressed against her again, she was warm and soft, Squirrelpaw could feel everything good about her. “I appreciate that, Squirrelpaw.” She mewed.

This was everything Squirrelpaw knew she should feel. Happiness. Contentment. Friendship. That was how it had started between them all. That was how it should end – for her at least. She wouldn’t be the interfering, nuisance that she was commonly called. She would prove those voices wrong. She would accept this, and take hope for all the best.

A shine of purple caught Squirrelpaw’s eye. Tucked beneath Feathertail’s ear was the flower Crowpaw had given her from the Twoleg garden. The flower given to her by the cat she loved so dearly.

The flower Squirrelpaw had received now seemed like a mockery on her fur.

I’m sorry Feathertail but I love him and I don’t wish I didn’t because everything you love I love as well I don’t blame you for loving him because you deserve to love someone like him and he deserves to love someone like you but it hurts and I know it’s bad and that I shouldn’t but I can’t stop and I know you understand and I’m sorry-

She shut the rest of her mind up. Locked it away like a prisoner.

She focused on her friend beside her, and her happiness.

And to prove that, she didn’t pull away from the touch of her. Not even when they found the Tribe patrol.

…

It had started off well.

The Tribe guards had escorted them back, still limping and ragged from the wounds of their latest attack, Squirrelpaw couldn’t help but give a sneer to Crag as he stared at her with utter hatred. The cat was smart enough to not attack her though. The moon had just begun to rise over the mountain when they found the cave again.

The waterfall reflected the moonlight around the cave, revealing the extent to which Sharptooth had left the Tribe. Every cat looked wounded in some way or another, according to Stoneteller many were either dead or on the verge of dying. They were furious at their ‘saviour’ for abandoning them, and the whole cave seemed to break into discord when their banished Tribemates returned.

Then Stormfur explained what they were doing back, and despite the obvious mistrust, the Tribe had died down. Eventually, Squirrelpaw had been the one to reveal her plan, stuffing the dead hare with the death berries and leaving it at the mouth of the cave entrance.

The Tribe didn’t seem too convinced of the plan, especially when it was told it would need Sharptooth to return to their cave. For a while, Squirrelpaw had tensed herself for a fight. But soon Stoneteller accepted their plan, watching with ill dread when Talon sliced open his paw to leave a trace of blood outside the cave. The trail that would prick Sharptooth’s hunger and lead him back to the cave.

It was by no means a return without risk. But the plan was the best the Tribe had, and they knew that.

Squirrelpaw had just been helping Tawnypelt measure the safety of the distance between the bait and the cave entrance when the terrified cry erupted.

“Sharptooth! He’s here! He’s coming!”

Squirrelpaw’s entire body wracked with horror, turning to the darkness outside. The moon was full and luminous, and the splintering shadow of the predator and the fiery burn of his bloodlust was a terrible shape on the mountain.

Squirrelpaw raced away to hide. It was far too soon for the beast to arrive! The Tribe cats hadn’t even had the time to hide themselves yet. She saw them all begin to race away towards the Cave of Pointed Stones, leaving her and the other clan cats waiting in terror. They all began to sprint towards the cave walls, masking themselves in shadow. Squirrelpaw pressed herself hard against the stone, hoping the creature wouldn’t leave its meal due to the frantic rapture of the environment.

They could only wait as the large, snarling head left the darkness to enter the cave. The beast sniffed around, its eyes pinwheels of savagery, searching for any prey it could catch. Squirrelpaw quivered as the moonlight crashed on its large form, its claws tapping bluntly on the stone floor. Slowly, Sharptooth followed the trail of blood to where the hare lay. It examined the meal for a moment.

Squirrelpaw held her breath.

Then with a twist of its head that might had displayed disgust, the beast swung a large paw to the bait, knocking it far away into the shadows outside. Far from it, and the prey it was clearly scenting.

Hope abandoned Squirrelpaw. “No!” She cried. That had been their chance of killing the creature!

She only realised her mistake when the beasts hungry glare found the shadows she hid in.

Squirrelpaw went stiff with fear. Their plan had failed. Her plan had failed. And now they were stuck in the cave with this impossible enemy.

A brown shape leapt from the wall to face the monster. Squirrelpaw gasped when she realised it was Brambleclaw, his fur spiked with anger. “Get back!” He roared at the beast, not flinching when the beast growled and twisted to him. The Thunderclan Warrior’s voice pleaded out to his friends. “All of you hide!”

Squirrelpaw stared, not believing what she was seeing. Surely Brambleclaw didn’t think he could take on this thing on his own. The brown tom hissed furiously at the monster, before crouching down and leaping at the beast with his claws unsheathed.

Dear Starclan, he was crazy!

But when Brambleclaw twisted his body to dodge the lion’s claws, she saw the frantic worry in his eyes. The worry for all of them. He was doing everything he could to protect them

He was her clanmate. Squirrelpaw had to do the same.

With a surge of abandonment for the danger, Squirrelpaw pounced to where the lion was, sinking her claws into its thick tail and scratching deep into the flesh. The beast screeched, whipping its tail to dislodge her.

She heard Brambleclaw shout, “What in Starclan’s name are you doing?” The fear was stark.

Sensing that the beast would be swift in its attack, and knowing its attention was now on her, Squirrelpaw retreated. “Run!” She screamed at her clanmate. She didn’t look back but she heard the beast lunge forward, roaring in fury. Fear guiding her muscles, Squirrelpaw didn’t stop running until she found the cave wall. Leaping onto the nearest boulder, she grunted as she pulled herself up. She felt a snap behind her and knew Sharptooth had bit empty air as it tried to catch her tail. She didn’t stop climbing the mounds of rock until she had found herself panting and hissing on a jagged ledge of rock on the wall.

As the beast snapped and clawed the wall below her, she saw Stormfur following Feathertail up the opposite wall until they too reached a ledge. Above the cave entrance, Tawnypelt peered over a cleft, yelling obscenely at the creature. Squirrelpaw let out a sigh of relief, noticing as Brambleclaw sloped up to rest on a thicker ledge just below her.

“Stay back or I’ll claw your eyes out!” Her clanmate rumbled, his fur fluffed up in rage. Sharptooth only hissed and clawed at the wall some more, madly reaching for its next kill.

It couldn’t reach them though.

That was the main thing.

Squirrelpaw tried to regain control of her thumping heart, dousing her fear however she could, they were safe up here for now. They just needed some time to think, just think, of someway to get rid of this thing! She cursed the fact that her plan had failed. They were now lost without a means or plan of attack, and who knew how long Sharptooth would keep clawing to reach them

Not very long it seemed. As the beast’s ears twitched and it heavily met the ground, turning away with a hiss. Squirrelpaw cocked her head in confusion, leaning over to see where it was heading.

She found it.

And fear enveloped her all over again.

In a crevice on the ground level, just a tree length from where Sharptooth was slowly advancing, Crowpaw laid flat against the wall trying to hide himself in the cleft. Even from up where she was, Squirrelpaw could see it was too shallow to keep him safe.

The claws and hungry maw were growing closer, and Crowpaw knew it. He hissed wildly at the creature.

Squirrelpaw could see the terror in his eyes.

Almost without realising it, she leapt down onto the cleft below her, her breath quick and heaving. She had to reach him, she had to distract that creature, she couldn’t just sit back and watch. She prepared to leap to the ground floor.

As soon as she jumped, a pull on her scruff held her back to safety.

She knew who it was. “Let me go!” She screamed at Brambleclaw, not facing him as she hopelessly tried to claw her way out of his grasp. She tried to grip the rock, but Brambleclaw pulled her further away, leaving thin scratches from where her claws dragged back.

Squirrelpaw felt a heavy paw on her back, holding her down on her belly as Brambleclaw still held onto her scruff just in case. Squirrelpaw writhed and kicked, “Let me go! Let me go! We can’t just leave him!” Her voice rose into a high, pleading cry. She saw the beast drawing closer, she saw the fear heighten in Crowpaw. Her screams only grew in her throat. She twisted her neck to see Brambleclaw, furiously desperate to roar at him again.

She was taken aback when she saw the pain, the regret in his eyes. It was only there briefly before he screwed them shut, blocking out the incoming horror. “I’m sorry.” His muffled voice sounded out. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t release his grip; she was his clanmate, he had to protect her like she protected him.

Her anger gone, Squirrelpaw gave in to the despair. She still tried to dislodge herself from the strong grip, whimpers growing in her throat, but by now she knew it was useless. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she saw the inevitable horror that would soon reach her friend.

She would never see him again.

He wouldn’t come home with her.

She would never tell him…

Her paws collapsing beneath her, Squirrelpaw rose her chin, howling and sobbing.

“CROWPAW!” She screeched.

Then through her tears, she saw movement above the horror.

A silver shape burst onto one of the spiked pillars of stone that pierced down from the cave top. Squirrrelpaw thought she could hear Stormfur shouting. The pillar buckled under the force and broke away, plummeting down with the shape wailing beside it.

Squirrelpaw’s breath caught.

Though she could see the shape through her tears, it was the wail that told Squirrelpaw it was Feathertail.

A yowl made way to her throat, but she didn’t hear it above Sharptooth’s scream. The pillar tore through his body, impaling him to the ground. The rock spilt, sending a haze of dust into the air that shadowed over the twitching, bleeding body.

With a gasp of shock, Brambleclaw released Squirrelpaw and followed her as she jumped down the rocks, back to the cave floor. She searched desperately through the haze for her friends, racing with caution as Sharptooth convulsed in his own blood.

Finally, with an ugly groan, the monster lay still.

But Squirrelpaw had no relief. The dust had cleared. She found Crowpaw’s untouched body. He was standing over Feathertail, his jaw open in a silent scream of anguish.

Feathertail lay still, wet blood pooling from her head.

With a choked whimper, Squirrelpaw ran to her friend’s side. Stormfur was soon there too, his eyes wet with sorrow. The silver molly did not move, not even a twitch.

“Feathertail…” Squirrelpaw’s voice was raw with horror. “No.”

“Wake up.” Crowpaw begged, his voice in a horrible strain that made Squirrelpaw convulse with despair. “Please, Feathertail, wake up.”

“Sh-She’ll be fine.” Stormfur’s voice was quiet, but desperate, “She has a prophecy to fulfil.” He was clearly trying to comfort his own thoughts. The other clan cats made their way over, the two siblings were stiff and rigid, their eyes full of grief. As if Feathertail was already…

No. Squirrelpaw pressed her forehead against Feathertail’s pelt, desperately trying to stir her. It couldn’t be too late. Stormfur was right. She was chosen by Starclan, she had to go home with them, she had to-

Squirrelpaw flicnched back when she felt a small, lingering movement. Stormfur and Crowpaw jolted next to her. She saw Feathertail’s eyes flutter hazily, seeing the cats weeping beside her, but with no direction at all. The beautiful blue in her eyes was beginning to fade.

Feathertail looked at Stormfur, sleepily. “You’ll have to go home without me, Stormfur.” She muttered, her lips twitched and Squirrelpaw thought that would be the end, but soon a small smile found its way there. The smile that had given Squirrelpaw the first light of friendship. “Save the clan.”

Stormfur whimpered, nuzzling worldlessly into his sister’s fur, muttering a stream of pleads.

Then Feathertail’s eyes softly moved to where her two close friends stood, tears pooling down. She breathed raggedly, like she was cold and Squirrelpaw felt desperate to rub close to the cat again.

“Please!” Squirrelpaw begged, inhaling the soft, sweet scent. “Please Feathertail! You-You can’t!”

“I’m sorry.” She muttered. Squirrelpaw felt a soft press against her leg and realised it was the gentle touch of her friends’ tail. “I’m sorry I won’t be there to see you become the Warrior you deserve to be. I promise I’ll be watching over you.”

Squirrelpaw croaked out a sob. “No…no…” She thought of how alone she’d been in the beginning, she thought of all that had come because of that kind invitation. “I-I owe everything to you!”

“No, you don’t. You always repaid me…” Feathertail rasped.

“Feathertail,” Crowpaw’s soft cries made way, “Please, don’t leave me.” He sounded so hollow.

“I’ll always be with you,” Feathertail said, her voice aching with love. Her paw struggled to reach out, but it gingerly brushed against the cat she loved. “I promise.”

Crowpaw started to tremble with his cries, “I-I…” Whatever he was going to say next left his throat as a weeping breath. Squirrelpaw stiffened as she felt the soft breathing of Feathertail stop.

But she heard a soft whisper, “Look after him.” It slowed down until the end.

Slowly looking up, squeaking with pain, Squirrelpaw saw the eyes that held such kindness close and never open again.

Feathertail was gone.

Her smile. Her laugh. Her kindness. All her memories of this journey. All were gone.

Crowpaw was the one that wailed first. His head arched back, tears spilling down his face. Squirrelpaw didn’t try to hide it anymore than him. Her voice was a string of sobs and cries, punctuated by hoarse, dry, rasping breath. Stormfur weeped softly, nuzzling his nose to his sister as if to never lose her scent again. Behind them, Squirrelpaw could hear the muffled crying of Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt as they comforted each other.

Squirrelpaw stared at Feathertail’s body, unable to hold herself up. She buried her face in the fur. This was it. Feathertail would never come home with them. She would never see Riverclan or her father again. They would never meet in secret like they had promised for days.

She would never laugh or smile again. Squirrelpaw realised this all with a stinging, burning clarity.

Squirrelpaw wept.

Around them they heard the cheers of glee from the approaching Tribe cats. “Sharptooth is dead! We are saved!” Squirrelpaw held back her screams, she was too tired, too broken to care anymore. She didn’t care about their stupid prophecy. Their friend was dead! That was all!

Brook broke away from the cheering cats to comfort Stormfur. Beside Squirrelpaw, Crowpaw raised his head to meet the now sole Riverclan cats’ gaze. His eyes glazed with a terrible emptiness. “I-It’s my fault.”

Squirrelpaw rose up, “No!” She shouted.

“Yes, it is.” Crowpaw said monotonously, “I wasn’t quick enough. She died… for me.” His lips sucked in as his fur lined with tears again. “I-I couldn’t even…”

“Don’t say that!” Squirrelpaw said, pressing her head against Crowpaw’s neck. She wouldn’t let him blame himself for this! It was her plan that had… “It wasn’t your fault!”

Crowpaw didn’t say anything, he just bowed his head and didn’t even react to the touch of his friend. She felt his sobs tremble throughout his body. Weakly, he seemed to give in on himself, leaning down to press his nose to Feathertail. Squirrelpaw fell beside him, muzzle rubbing on her lost friend, her body holding her sobbing friends up.

She couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. It was clear now. Feathertail would have received what she deserved. Crowpaw… He… He…

They all sobbed for what might have been forever.

In the crisp moonlight, a lone beam rested on a lone object that wetly glinted in the pooling crimson. A pale dome which held treasures of golden stalks. The flower illuminated for a moment that no cat truly saw, a ghostly silver sparkling on the purple petals. Then the sparkling stopped, and it was just a flower in a pool of blood once more.

…

The clan cats didn’t leave until morning had risen.

None of them had gotten much sleep. None of them had really tried to rest. They mourned the loss of their friend, gave her all the respect she deserved. The Tribe cats were helpful enough, they helped find a fresh mound of land where they could bury her. They carried her away so gently, and the clan cats followed them the whole way.

It was a beautiful spot. Beside the waterfall where the pool made the ground soft enough to dig. Feathertail would have thought it was beautiful. Squirrelpaw held back her sob as she thought of how the cat had taught her to fish. Once she was buried, they all sat vigil for her, even the Tribe cats who took the time to thank their prophesised saviour once again.

But the truth was, Squirrelpaw knew, that none of them would be able to thank Feathertail enough for what she had sacrificed.

It was sun-high by the time the clan cats knew it was best they leave. They still had a journey to complete. Though two cats did wonder if it would ever truly be completed, ever truly be whole, without a close friend to be there when they returned.

Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt had left first, they knew it was best to give the other three as much time as they needed. Their tears had not even dried.

Squirrelpaw sat there, staring at the freshly buried grave, not wanting to look and know what was there, and not wanting to run away from her friend. So she sat there, nestled against the whimpering Stormfur, trying her best to hold onto whatever memories she could of his sister.

Memories were all they had now.

And then there was Crowpaw.

He didn’t even look like he was there. There was no colour in his eyes. No sign of the scrappy apprentice Squirrelpaw had hated, and no glow of the friend she loved. He was stiff, staring down, full of guilt he didn’t know he didn’t deserve. Squirrelpaw had tried to comfort him, but it was no use, he was cold to touch and did not speak a word back to her.

Honestly, how could Squirrelpaw comfort him? She needed someone to comfort her. But she stayed by the side of her friend, nuzzling into his neck, hoping somehow that one of them could feel something other than the heartache.

Squirrelpaw realised it was Feathertail who did most of their comforting for them.

They didn’t exactly know when it was, but they left. With all their prayers said, not enough thanks or tears could ever be shown. Squirrelpaw rationalised that Feathertail would want them to carry on as best they could.

It wasn’t much comfort.

But it was a thought anyway.

She nuzzled Crowpaw’s neck, gently. “Come on. We have to go.”

Crowpaw didn’t reply, he just stared.

Squirrelpaw inhaled, not hiding how broken she was. “We can’t do anything else, Crowpaw. I’m sorry, but we have to go home now.” She was in sync with him. She didn’t want to leave her behind. But they had to move on, even though they never would.

Hazily, without a word, Crowpaw rose to his feet. The only sound he made was a stutter of breaths. Squirrelpaw turned, using her body to hold him up, leading him away from the grave. In her mind, Squirrelpaw said one last goodbye to her friend. She didn’t turn back, though. Not even for a second. She couldn’t do that.

She just held Crowpaw close to her pelt, padding away to the mocking light where their friends waited.

Through the entrance, a sole ray of sunlight splintered through the cave, resting by the pool where a mound of wet Earth was freshly dug. The light flickered as it found three objects that rested together on top of the grave. Three colours that danced in sunlight glimmer, holding so much in their journey here.

The purple flower had been cleaned of blood. It rested delicately on the grave, nestled between a white flower and a light blue flower; three plants that would rest there together next to the glistening pool and the crisp sheens of light.

…