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aethon-recs · 4 months

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23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 (One-Shot Edition)

Happy birthday to Tom! 🤍 Here's a round-up of some of the most interesting one-shots that I came across in 2023. I tried to include a broad range of tropes and themes and ratings, but I haven't read everything published on AO3 in the past year, so feel free to suggest any others in the comment section or in my ask box!

Criteria for this list: one- (or two-) shot, complete, published in 2023. Can be read in 1 sitting. The 2nd part of this list (23 longfics updated in 2023) coming soon. Happy reading!

23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 — One-Shots

A Deathly Visit by @purplewitch156 (E, 7k, complete)

There once was a wizard who feared Death more than anything.

a dream is a wish by @funkyatheart (E, 5k, complete)

Harry is no stranger to wet dreams. Nightmares too, of course. They mingle, and blend together in all the wrong and most alluring ways.

A Total Absence of Light by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 8k, complete)

My name is Tom Riddle, and I am the Boy Who Lived. Something happened to turn Harry Potter into the Dark Lord, and I will do whatever it takes to learn his secrets. I don’t care that he killed my parents. I don't care that he stole my childhood. All I want is to earn the right to call myself his apprentice.

and you'll forget who i have been by @apodius (M, 3k, complete)

Tom hugs you, and for a second you relax. And then you feel a sting on your bicep through your shirt, and the world goes fuzzy.

Anniversary by @vdoshu (E, 4k, complete)

There’s a feather-light touch to Harry’s scar, one that lingers before trailing around the side of his face, coming to rest over his lower lip and tugging it slightly. Harry steels himself, then opens his eyes. “Hello, husband,” he says, facing Voldemort’s hungry gaze. “Happy anniversary.”

Apotheosis by @duplicitywrites (M, 7k, complete)

Growing up side by side with Harry Potter, beloved prophecy child, Draco learned two very important things: One, Voldemort was a god, terrifyingly monstrous and more powerful than any wizard on the planet. And two, Harry Potter was his.

Banish Me to the Garden of Eden by @contrarywiseizybel (M, 7k, complete)

Harry Potter had expected the green of the killing curse, not the red of a stunning spell. He couldn't have guessed that Voldemort would discover the truth first, and chose to trap his wayward horcrux. And in his new cage there is a very simple rule: behave and be rewarded, act out and be punished. He had been asked to die, never told to live.

Cicatrize by @noumena-writes (T, 5k, complete)

When hit with Voldemort's killing curse, Harry awakens in King's Cross. Only thing is, Dumbledore is not the one waiting for him there.

Frigid by @mrviran (E, 3k, complete)

In which one of Voldemort's Horcruxes is broken, and needs to be fixed.

Game On by penn_and_paige (T, 13k, complete)

Tom Riddle didn't pay attention to Harry Evans — that is, of course, until Evans tried to kill him.

haunt me, then by i_am_a_tree (M, 5k, complete)

"Death," Potter says, an inexplicable expression on his face that Voldemort instinctively does not like, “is quicker and easier than falling asleep." Voldemort does not deign that statement with a reply.

Honeyguide by @cannibalinc (E, 7k, complete)

“I need an Alpha," Tom states. "Someone older. Someone already established within the Ministry with strong connections. Someone kind, a bit stupid, and rich. A Pureblood, ideally. Someone who will soften my image.”

I'm Starving, Darling (Let me put my lips to something) by @winterdeath81 (E, 1k, complete)

Harry thought for a long time he didn't like kissing until he finds that he doesn't mind doing it with Voldemort.

Insatiate by @vdoshu (E, 2k, complete)

Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.

it's kind of tripping me up babe, i've got it bad for you by @limonium-anemos (E, 3k, complete)

This could've been prevented if they were paying attention, Voldemort thinks. In which they get isekai'd into a cursed erotica book.

liquid luck by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 12k, complete)

Harry is a mermaid who happens upon sea monster Voldemort, who has nefarious plans for her.

Love, Murder, Horcrux by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, complete)

Tom makes Harry his Horcrux on the night of their wedding anniversary.

Ouroboros by @loneamaryllis (E, 5k, complete)

Red eyes followed Harrie wherever she was, in his class, in the Great Hall, walking down the corridors, out on the grounds. She could feel the weight of his gaze upon her, like scales sliding across her skin, cold, smooth, and prickling every defensive instinct she had.

Research and Development by @cannibalinc (E, 6k, complete)

Primary Objective: Establish with certainty that Subject IS or IS NOT a living Horcrux. Captured audio sample from Subject: You can’t keep me in here forever, Voldemort! Why don’t you come in here and face me, you COWARD! I’m not scared of you! Dumbledore will find me and—

Right in Front of My Salad? by IceLynx (T, 2k, complete)

In which Draco Malfoy is dead in the kitchen, Harry is regretting moving in with his boyfriend, and Tom has never been more in love.

Plains of oblivion by @milkandmoon-ao3 (E, 3k, complete)

Trapped in the past with no way home, a disillusioned Harry executes a plan to make an ally of the rising Dark Lord and reshape history.

That's Money, Honey by @dividawrites & @duplicitywrites (E, 10k, complete)

Tom is a dear friend to many beautiful older women who love to treat him like their beloved son by spoiling him with presents. It is the perfect gateway to the perfect lifestyle—one full of frequent spa days, free holidays abroad, and all of the latest fashions. When Auror Harry Potter claims to be investigating Tom's 'inappropriate' relationships, Tom decides the best course of action is to instigate some 'inappropriate' behaviour of his own.

The Boy With the Green Ribbon by @meles-merrivale (T, 6k, complete)

In another world, what Sirius Black finds when he sprints into Godric’s Hollow that Halloween night is bad enough. In this world, it’s so much worse. It’s James—his best friend, his soulmate, the rest of him—dead in the doorway, and vibrant, warm Lily cold on the carpet, and there, standing in his crib seeing things no infant should see, is little baby Harry. And next to him, lying on the crib mattress, is the baby’s screaming head.

Would You Still Love Me? by @chiocchi (M, comic/artwork, WIP)

"Harry, would you still love me if I was a snake?" Harry knows how this question works. No matter how deranged and unreasonable it is, he has to say yes. A notion he may come to regret once Tom's questions start to get darker and oddly specific.

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #one-shot recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs #2023 reads #2023 recs

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 5 months

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The Great War | Regulus Black

▹ Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Fluff

▹ Words: ~ 5K

▹ Summary: You'd swore not to cry anymore if you and Regulus managed to survive the great war.

▹ Notes: I'd like to personally thank the Anon that reminded me nearly a year ago about Sirius Black dying without knowing his brother wasn't like their parents. To alleviate the sadness of that fact, I wrote this fic :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your memories were plagued by cold winter nights and eyes as bright and bitter as a snow storm.

Regulus' hands in yours, interlocked with a grip so tight it kept you from floating away. Stolen stares and clandestine meetings in the middle of the night at the top of the Astronomy tower became sacred, only for him to never look your way in the light of day.

You knew every constellation, both in the sky and in his eyes. When snow fell, Regulus would carefully brush away the melted snow droplets on your cheeks. The air was biting and the wind unrelenting, a concoction that made for the perfect excuse to nuzzle into Regulus' side. You'd pretend it was for warmth when really you craved his touch. His lips would tilt into a half-smirk as you spoke, seeing through your flimsy excuse. Yet his arm would wrap around you all the same, pulling you impossibly close.

The moments had been brief, gone within the blink of an eye. Reality would creep in, dampening the dreamy optimism you clung to in moments of doubt. No one could know; Regulus Black was consorting with a muggleborn, how scandalous. His family would eat him alive, a notion that made him keep you in the shadows, a place you happily stayed. You'd draw stars in the air with your fingertips, placating your fears with delusions that it wouldn't be forever. Each whispered word was an oath that you would carry to your grave.

You'd never doubted that Regulus Black loved you; you could hear it in the easy silence and see it in the soft expression reserved just for you. Understanding and calm, he clung to the tranquility you brought to his turbulent life. So certain that everything would turn out fine, you never dared to ask for more.

Then, it all turned into something bitter.

He slipped from your grasp like water, his feather light touches and sardonic smile only felt and seen in your dreams. The haze brought by the security of Hogwarts was muddied, reality much too bright to look at head-on. War gripped the wizarding world; Voldemort and his Death Eaters were the cause of the strife. Thrown into the trenches, you struggled to stay above water. With each mission and spell cast, any trace of innocence and youth that remained was ripped from you. All the bloodshed, death, and terror stained you dark red. Even if you survived, you'd never be the same.

You hadn't seen Regulus since the war started; even in your dreams, his face was a vague blur of what he used to be. You couldn't recall when the severing had happened; the letters came less frequently until they stopped coming at all. He used to drop by your apartment unannounced, a shy grin and flowers in hand. Regulus must've lost his way because he never made his way back. The love shared between the two of you turned bitter, and in the haze of it all, the betrayal stung harsher than any spell could.

You damned him each time the phantom scent of his cologne lingered in your apartment. And you cried each time flashes of your best moments came back in the depth of night. Sucker punching walls and screaming into the sky never alleviated the pain; you cursed him while sleep talking. It was cognitive dissonance; you claimed to hate him all while wishing he would just come back and explain why.

"You good for this?" Sirius Black's voice echoed in the depths of your mind, breaking you from the reverie. Twin gray eyes, reflecting similar to his brother's. It was nearly enough to send you into a spiral. A simple nod was the only reply you gave him, but it was all he needed.

Another mission, another attempt at stopping what was starting to feel inevitable. You didn't want to be so hopeless and desolate, but it couldn't be helped. The walls were closing in; you were losing the war.

"We all remember the plan, right?" A member of the order said. You couldn't remember their name, but you didn't care to. They may be dead in a week. There's no sense in getting to know them now.

"Was there even much of a plan? We go in and minimize as much damage as we can, that's it," James Potter's voice stood out amongst the chatter. The rest of the members assigned to the mission solemnly nod, calling out various agreements.

Numbness flooded your body, completely apathetic to the chaos you were charging headfirst into. This part used to be daunting, stabbing tiny needles in your body, but you'd desensitized yourself to it. Dissociated so far away that you weren't even sure anything was real. Healthy? No, but it was necessary; you couldn't afford to freeze up.

The people around you began to apparate and you followed suit. It felt as if you were being pulled apart and put back together. A thought flickered in your mind; perhaps if you were spliced, you wouldn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil that's been weighing you down. But all too soon, the feeling stopped; a wave of nausea hit and then vanished.

You were there.

It all became a blur; the exact moment the fight broke out was hard to pinpoint. All you could remember were the screams and the people pushing and pulling you like the tide. In the confusion of it all, masked figures around every corner, it was easy to forget you were fighting real people. They were skeletal visages you created, not living, breathing people. Bodies began to drop on both sides, curses and spells falling from the lips of everyone around.

“Petrificus Totalus.” You flicked your wand, petrifying the Death Eater closest to you. With a thump, their body fell to the ground, and you were on to the next, adrenaline keeping your body upright. You turn the incantation to another spell on the tip of your lips. But your words fell short, your body locking up as you stared at the person in front of you. It was as if you'd been cursed, except you hadn't.

They wore a mask like all the other Death Eaters, but the icy gray eyes peering at you were hard to forget.

Regulus.

You froze, unable to move even as your mind screamed at you to act. The noise of the room was muffled, a sharp ringing nearly making your ears bleed. Regulus was a--

You'd suspected as much, what with his family's allegiance to the Dark Lord and all he stood for. Yet until now, there has been no confirmation that your worst nightmares have come to fruition. But as Regulus stood there in the garb of your enemy, it would seem war found you on different ends of the same battlefield.

A bitter, smokey taste filled your mouth as everything the two of you shared turned to ash. He was here; there was no more denying what he'd done. Regulus was a Death Eater. Your stomach turned to knots as it threatened to empty its contents right then and there. Fighting for the blood purists, you guess he never really loved you then.

Regulus tore off his mask, allowing it to drop to the ground with a thud that wasn't heard over the noise. His dark hair was messy and tangled, the ends of it curling from the sweat on the nape of his neck. Heavy dark circles lined his eyes, worse than they'd ever been, skin pallid and sickly. Eyes that previously shone like a bright star were dim and threatening to burn out. Dry skin clung to his lips, and you could see the damage his teeth had caused to his bottom lip.

He looked terrible.

Regulus had talked in length about the stifling expectations his family had placed upon him. He both hated and feared his family, witnessing the abuse Sirius suffered before he ran away. It was never something spoken, but you knew the resentment he harbored for Sirius, both for leaving Regulus behind and having the courage to go against the grain. You did your best, encouraging him to leave as well, to make the hard choice of not getting swept into the current. Even when Regulus disappeared from your life, you hoped he would take the hard road. Yet he took the easy way out.

Pity turned your numb body cold, and the fury it caused turned you hot. How dare he? After everything he'd done, to have such a tight grip on you still. To make you feel sorry for him as if he'd been forced down this path. He'd made his decision; he decided to follow the road that led to this exact moment. Why should you weep for him?

Even then, with all your turmoil and rage, you still couldn't lift your wand at him. Time seemed slow, the chaos melting away the longer you looked into his eyes. Five seconds extended to five years.

But Regulus didn't share your hesitation or paralysis. He lifted his wand, a spell falling from his lips as his wrist flicked. You didn't have time to react, magical energy pooling at the tip of his wand before it shot towards you. Your eyes widened, and your heart stopped, unable to do anything other than watch your own death.

But the impact never came. Instead, the green light flew past your shoulder, grazing your hair. Square in the chest, it hit a Death Eater that had crept up behind you. A gasp left your mouth, the only sound you'd made since the battle started.

Their body hit the ground, unmoving. Only then did you turn to face Regulus. His expression remained unchanged, yet yours portrayed all the confusion and surprise in your head. At the speed of light, your heartbeat rattling against your chest, the barest hints of hope tinged your pessimistic thoughts. Was there a chance? His gaze softened, and his wand hand hanging slack at his side. You didn't want to fight anymore. All your steeled nerves and empty declarations of no longer caring about him were voided in an instant. You took a step towards him, hand reaching for him, but he took a stiff step back.

"Regulus--"

He was gone, apparating from the battle.

Sharply, you inhaled, holding it for a few heartbeats, then let it out. Regulus was no longer in sight. You returned to the battle. You rushed forward, trampling over the Death Eater mask he'd left behind. The porcelain it'd been made from cracked under the weight of you as the dirt on your shoes muddied its intricate designs.

You hardly thought twice about it, flinging another spell at a Death Eater.

Another mission completed; more casualties piling up.

---

"I saw you, you know," Sirius Black said. You'd all returned from the mission about two hours ago and just finished debriefing what happened. You stayed silent, your mind too preoccupied to come up with a singular thought.

"Saw me what? Fighting Death Eaters? Yeah, I saw you too." You were deflecting; he knew that, and you knew that he knew. The glint in his eye was not at all as careless as it had once been. Yet you feigned ignorance all the same.

"Yeah. I also saw you and Regulus."

Your movements stilled as your body turned rigid. You didn't meet his eyes, didn't even blink. What could you say? Nothing would stop him from going to Moody or Dumbledore; at best, you'd be kicked from the Order; at worst, thrown in Azkaban and branded a traitor.

"I don't know what you mean." It was a weak defense, but it was all you had.

"Oh, shove off. I'm not stupid. I saw the way you reacted when you saw him, but I also saw him kill that Death Eater."

You turned to meet his eyes. There was a question hidden in his statement. His gray eyes, so similar to Regulus's, were pleading, a part of him begging that maybe his brother wasn't completely lost. That he wasn't exactly what their parents were.

"I don't know why he did that." Confirmation that Regulus was a Death Eater should've cemented so many things. The world should be black and white; he was a Death Eater; therefore, he didn't love you anymore, if he ever even did. How could he claim to love a muggleborn while doing his best to ensure you were eradicated? But now you weren't so sure. He was a Death Eater, yes, but he'd also saved your life.

The migraine you'd had since you met him on the battlefield threatened to explode.

"Do you--" he hesitated, his words quiet and soft. So unlike the barking confidence he usually possessed. The armor he'd shielded himself with was cracking. "Do you think there's a chance for him?"

You pursed your lips.

"I don't know."

Without another word, you stood from the chair and muttered a quick "goodbye" before returning home. Your apartment had been just as you'd left it as you stood in front of the door, illuminated by the dim light on the steps. Except when you went to unlock the door, you found it already slightly ajar.

The hair on your body stood up, cold fear briefly washing over you. The Death Eaters were getting bolder with their attacks. Would you be the next victim? Would it be your name and picture covering the cover page of every newspaper? For a moment, you considered leaving or at least getting help, yet you did neither. Instead, you pushed open your door, the wand held tightly in your hand.

The room was dark, the sun having long since set. The pale blue light of your wand cast shadows in every corner of the room. It only made your nerves worse, jumping at every corner and shadow. The entryway was empty, as was the living room, but as you turned into the dining area and kitchen, you noticed a figure sitting at your table. They were still as a statue as they sat at your table, jacket neatly folded and placed in front of them.

Regulus.

His eyes were on you, arms slack at his sides, and he was wearing a grim expression. The dark circles you'd seen earlier that day seemed worse, so blackened they looked like bruises. You took a step back, the grip on your wand tightening as you held it up in a threatening manner.

"So this is it. You came here to kill me?" Your voice was like stone, cold and hard. There was a lump in your throat flecks of fear in your shining eyes, but you hardened your face. You wouldn't show any sign of weakness. If he would let the love you shared sink beneath the waves, then you'd drown the entire fucking world the two of you created.

He took a step forward, dark, stormy eyes pleading. “No, Y/N, that’s not--”

Regulus fell silent as you moved your wand from his chest towards his face, eyes narrowed. There was a tremble to your body; lips pressed so tight as to stifle the sobs that came up your throat.

"Stay back."

Regulus complied, raising his hands as a show of good faith. He wore that same disarming puppy dog face, like an abandoned dog alone in a shelter. Previously, you would've melted, running back to his embrace. But so many things were different, and it showed in the vacancy that made your eyes hollow.

"I would never hurt you." He asserted, hoping the sincerity of his words could penetrate the steel-enforced walls you'd encased yourself with. His placations had the opposite effect, the pain twisting into cold rage.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it? You're a Death Eater, Regulus. That means you and all your other purist friends want people like me dead." The death grip you held your wand with seemed to tighten. All circulation in your hand has been cut off, but it was all you could do to stop the tears from falling from your eyes.

"That is not true. I don't want you dead."

A choked laughter fell from your lips.

"Then I think you joined up with the wrong organization." Your words were sarcastic but not at all joking or light.

"It wasn't my choice." There was no change in his expression, eyes holding your gaze captive.

"No, you had a choice," you snapped back, silencing whatever pathetic excuse he used to convince himself he was justified in his actions. "And you made the wrong one."

Regulus fell silent, chewing on his bottom lip and shifting nervously. Your breath came out in angry puffs, reminiscent of a dragon. The tears made everything unclear and watery, but you refused to move a single muscle, even if it was just to wipe away the tears.

"I did what I had to do."

You felt your hand loosen, grip slackening enough that your wand almost fell from your fingertips. Thickly, you swallowed, cheeks damp from the tears that steadily fell from your eyes. This was it; your chance to finally tell Regulus everything you'd been screaming into your walls since he walked out of your life.

"You didn't have to do anything." Your voice was raw as you said the words you'd rehearsed time and time again. "Least of all, join the wrong side of the war. We had graduated; you could run away from all of that, and there was nothing your parents could've done."

"It's not that simple--"

"But it is, or at least it was," you exclaimed, cutting him off, voice cracking with the desperation you've locked away all this time. "You could've run and never looked back after our last day--"

"It was too late then."

You narrowed your eyes, a silent cue for him to explain when it had been too late.

"The summer between 5th and 6th year. After everything that happened with Sirius, they wanted to ensure I would be the perfect son they wanted."

"You never said anything."

"I didn't want you to look at me differently. My fate had already been sealed, and it was selfish of me to keep it from you, but I--"

He fell silent, eyes meeting the floor as his tongue became tied.

"You what?"

In a crazy, fucked up way, you were hoping he'd say everything you dreamed of. That he would reassure you he loved you and he never meant to hurt you. You wanted him to scorn his family and all their expectations of him. For once, you wanted him to make the right choice and not take the easy way out. You'd never fight with him anymore if he'd just asked to stay.

People always said love wasn't always enough, but you'd be willing to let Regulus ruin you time and time again.

"It doesn't matter now."

Disappointment was a feeling you were accustomed to by now, but that didn't make the bitter rejection sting any less. The tears on your cheeks were like acid, and you roughly wiped them away.

"I suppose it doesn't; you made your choice, and so have I."

Maybe now it would sink in. Your whirlwind romance with Regulus ended the moment you left Hogwarts for good. It wouldn't be some grand love like the books you'd read. He wouldn't push through any obstacle that stood between you and him.

Regulus wasn't a passionate man; he was pragmatic and calculated. Any risk he'd taken was never a risk after analyzing every angle and way it may go wrong. It was how he'd ended up trapped in the cycle of his family, and Sirius was able to break free. They were two sides of the same coin, yet they couldn't have turned out any more differently.

It was a hard pill to swallow; the man you loved was nothing like you imagined him to be.

"Why are you even here?" Your tone was sharp and pointed.

One last opportunity for him to mend what he had ripped to shreds. Why did you keep giving him so many chances?

"I'm not sure."

You slowly nodded, hands lowering to rest at your side. He'd never say the words you needed to hear; Regulus Black could never be the man you wanted him to be.

"I've missed you."

Maybe without realizing it, Regulus continued to twist the dagger he embedded in you.

You should tell him to leave, but the words won't form.

"I missed you too."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, fighting a battle within his own mind. You stayed silent, watching with wide eyes as he stepped towards you.

Your eyes stayed on him, afraid that if you even breathed, he'd change his mind. His hands were cold as he gently grabbed ahold of your face. The grip he held you with was careful and delicate, afraid to break you.

As if no time had passed, you leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut and relishing in his presence. He still smelled of bergamot and smoke.

You opened your eyes, meeting his unwavering gaze. A thousand words were said in the silence, both of you trying to convey what you were too cowardly to verbalize.

A sharp breath, the flutter of your lashes as your eyes closed. The Regulus' lips were on yours. His kiss was nearly too light to feel, and it made all reason disappear.

Your lips parted as you combed your hands through his hair, working through the tangles at the nape of his neck. His grip tightened as he kissed you like a man starved.

Regulus pulled back first, his expression blank and unsure. Did he regret what he'd started? Hurt began to blossom, weighing down the high he gave you. It took so little effort to fade back into him. The reminder was like a sharp jab to the gut.

His eyes wouldn't meet yours, yet his feet stayed planted in the ground. So close together, you could feel the heave of each intake of breathe and hurt radiating from his body.

This was dangerous territory to be in. Regulus was a Death Eater; you couldn't do this all over again.

Whatever love there was between the two of you had to die. You had to light the match and turn it to ash, even if that meant you went out in flames too.

"I think it's best if you go."

Regulus slowly nodded his head, his eyes moving from the floor to meet yours. Years of abuse and "discipline" led to him mastering the art of dissociation, to not let an ounce of emotion show on his face.

Despite the self soothing thoughts that reassured you it was the right choice, your bruised ego was desperate for a sign that your love affair had maimed him even an ounce as much as it did you.

Maybe in an alternate universe, the two of you were happy, but war was war, and its very nature was to take, take, take until there was nothing left in the aftermath.

Regulus didn't argue or fight, he simply dipped his head in a single, firm nod, mouth set in a thin line, nothing more spoken than a quiet "I see." In the blink of an eye, he disappeared, leaving you alone in your dark, depressing apartment.

A shuddered breath left your body shaking. That night, you didn't make it to your bed; that felt entirely too big and too lonely. You collapsed on the couch, allowing the weight of the world to fall off as you slipped into unconsciousness. And in your dreams, you saw nothing but the endless nothing that threatened to swallow you whole.

---

“I now go to my death with the hopes you’ll forgive me for all the pain I’ve inflicted upon you. I never intended to hurt you, but now I realize it was all I’ve ever done. I don’t expect forgiveness, I understand I’m no longer worthy of it, if I ever was. I love you, don’t forget that.”

- Yours truly,

Regulus

Your eyes were trained on the letter held by shaky hands, stained with tears that fell from your cheeks. It had arrived two days ago, the letter accompanied with a small bag holding a locket. The writing on the letter was illegible, but you’d memorized every crease and fold on the paper. Why was it when you’d finally begin to forget about him, something would always bring him back. Part of it was your fault, you’d always welcomed him with open arms, but you’d hoped this time you’d end a cycle that never seemed to end.

Stood on the cliff sides, the winter air biting at your skin. What could he have done to be so certain of his death? Regulus was too insignificant for the Order to focus entirely on, so maybe he’d done something to spurn his Dark Lord. You hoped that was the case.

Inhaling the frosty air, you tucked the note into your pocket and turned to return to your house. Hands shoved in your pocket, the snow crunched under the weight of your feet. Lost in thought, you hardly noticed the sun had begun to set. Before long, the old brick building you’d made your home came into view. Crunching snow was replaced with footsteps on wood stairs and you pushed open your front door. You shook the snow off your jacket, setting it on the coat hanger by the door. The fireplace was already crackling, casting a warm glow in the room.

You moved towards the kitchen to put a kettle on before moving back towards your room to get ready for bed. The heavy winter clothes were replaced by fleece pajamas that were soft like a rabbit. You sat at your vanity table and began combing through your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the small box on your side table. Within the iron enforced lead box was the locket Regulus had mailed with his letter. It seemed insignificant at first glance, but the longer you looked at it, the darker its aura felt. Regulus had written explicit instructions for you to hide the locket, both from yourself and the world. There hadn’t been time to think of a secure location, so before then, it would remain in the box, its magic suppressed for a time.

You’d question Regulus on it at some point, but for now you would go against every instinct telling you to ignore his letter and send back the locket. For as many times Regulus disappointed yourself, you’d let yourself down tenfold for continuing to give him the chance to do so.

The whistle of the kettle had you stand from your vanity and pad back into the kitchen. But as you moved into the kitchen, the wall opened so that you could see into the living room, you were no longer alone. Standing in the middle of the room was Regulus. He looked worse off than his last visit, his clothes wrinkled and hair greasy.

He didn’t speak and neither did you;’ your eyes focused on one another. The air was awkward, all the questions you’d had for him melting away from the softness in the gray eyes. You were the first to break the impromptu staring contest, grabbing two mugs instead of one. Wordlessly you began to prepare cups of tea, making it in just the way you knew Regulus liked it.

The wood floors creaked as Regulus moved to the couch in front of the fireplace, his jacket hanging beside yours. After a moment, you joined him, passing the warm mug to his open hand. Not a single word shared between the two of you. The only sound in the house was the crackle of the fire and the slurping of the two of you drinking from your mugs.

“Is it over now?” You finally spoke, unable to look towards Regulus.

A moment passed; you blew on your tea, steam flooding your face as you lowered your head.

“Yes.”

You leaned forward to set your mug on the table, the glass clinking as you did. You turned, finally looking at Regulus since taking a seat. His eyes were focused on you; broken and blue with the face of a man haunted by war. Yet beyond that was warm relief. War was finally over.

The Dark Lord and his followers were still afoot, and they’d need to be dealt with. But the Great War that plagued you and Regulus was finally over. The worst had ended.

Tomorrow you'd have questions about the locket and it's evil aura, you'd want to know what exactly he did that made him believe his death was certain. There was also the matter of how they'd proceed in the war. Regulus could be a turn coat, to give insight on the Death Eaters. So many things to consider, it made you feel dizzy. But those were semantics better dealt with at a later time.

For now, you just wanted to be a girl, sitting with a boy who you've loved since you were fourteen.

Droplets of tears stained your couch dark, your cheeks dampened. It was like a weight had been lifted and for a moment you thought you might disappear.

One of your hands dropped from the mug, laying on the couch near Regulus' limp hand. The grim line his lips had been pressed into warped into a soft smile. He placed his hand over yours, intertwining his fingers with you.

Not much was spoken the rest of the night. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, occasionally making chatter here and there. Your drinks were drained and when your eyes were too heavy to keep open, you’d led Regulus back into your room and onto your bed. His arms tangled around your body and your head on his chest you fell into a peaceful slumber you’d been robbed of since leaving Hogwarts behind.

#regulus black imagine #the marauders imagines #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black #regulus black angst #hp marauders #marauders angst #marauders era #sirius black #marauders #the marauders

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doumadono · 6 days

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🌹🌹🌹 COOOOOONGRATULAAATIONNSSSS 🌹🌹🌹

Can I get a cone with vanilla flavour, topped with M&Ms and maple syrup? I want to ask for snow leopard Shoto 🐆

A/N: thank you so much for your ongoing support! I really enjoyed writing these headcanons for you, and I hope you'll like them as much as I do :3

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

Snow leopard!Shoto, who usually maintains a dignified demeanor, turns into a playful goofball when he's alone with you.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who often finds himself fascinated by his own fluffy tail, can be seen chasing it in playful circles. Whenever he catches it, he looks at you with a triumphant glint in his eyes, as if he's just accomplished the greatest feat.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who senses whenever you're feeling down or stressed, and curls up beside you, purring softly, his warm fur offering comfort and solace.

Snow leopard!Shoto has a penchant for being a bit goofy at times. He'll pounce on fallen leaves or playfully bat at floating feathers, his playful antics never failing to bring a smile to your face, and you can't help but laugh at his playful clumsiness.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who absolutely adores playing with balls, especially when you roll them across the floor for him. His mismatched eyes light up with excitement as he chases after them, his graceful leaps and bounds a joy to behold.

Snow leopard!Shoto and one of his favourite pastimes which is taking leisurely naps in the sunlit spots of your home. You often find him basking in the warm glow, napping with his head placed on the tip of his fluffy tail. You snap photos of him snoozing and send them to your friend with a captions like, "isn't he just adorable?!"

Snow leopard!Shoto, who is particularly fond of belly rubs, melts into a puddle of contentment when you stroke his soft fur, his purrs rumbling in satisfaction.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who also has a particular fondness for chin scratches. He tilts his head upwards, his eyes closing in bliss as you scratch under his chin, his purring intensifying with each loving touch.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who is deeply protective of you, often stands guard by your side, his watchful eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Snow leopard!Shoto is deeply attuned to your emotions, sensing when you need a comforting presence or a gentle nudge of encouragement.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who loves his nose being booped by you!

Snow leopard!Shoto, who values your companionship above all else, often nudges your hand with his head, silently asking for your attention and some head pats.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who is fond of exploring new places, and enjoys going on adventurous walks with you.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who absolutely loves rolling in the soft, lush grass. The sensation of the cool blades against his spotted fur brings him pure joy, his contented purrs filling the air as he revels in the simple pleasure.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who absolutely despises baths, will do anything to avoid them. At the mere mention of bath time, he'll slink away, his tail bushing in defiance as he seeks refuge in the farthest corner of the room.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who detests having his teeth cleaned, becomes a picture of stubbornness when it comes to dental hygiene. He'll clamp his jaws shut firmly, refusing to cooperate as you attempt to wield the toothbrush with patience. "Come on, Shoto, open your muzzle, I don't have the entire day!"

Snow leopard!Shoto, who prefers to maintain his grooming routine on his own terms, will often retreat to a secluded spot to lick his fur clean with meticulous care, glaring intently at you, making sure you're not trying to give him a bath.

Snow leopard!Shoto, who is quite picky about his food. He can and will be the drama king when it comes to his meals. You might present him with the fanciest of gourmet feeds, only for him to theatrically gag at the mere scent. For him, nothing quite compares to the delight of raw salmon or a juicy steak.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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Hey, I fucking LOVE your work and I was wondering… do you remember the fic of bbg keegan? The ‘(Don’t) go to war’? Is there a part 2? And if there isn’t, can we please get one?

Have good day, person who feeds me with their fics (yum)

—When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

“You’re going to fall over, idiot,” you comment dryly to the man who struggles to walk across the room as he uses the wall as a crutch. Keegan and you were still recovering from the wounds of your previous mission—you with your shot shoulder and him his exploded side.

“Guess that means you can come over and help, huh?” Keegan grumbles, a glare meeting your raised brow.

“I wasn’t the one who decided to move around. I’m pretty comfortable over here if I do say so myself.”

“Gettin’ on my nerves again.” You smirk from the hospital’s reclining chair, head tilting.

The man was trying to get his exercise in, for whatever reason, and he found the best option for that was walking laps. You weren’t about to fault his instinctual nature as a soldier, but the way he’d gotten out of bed in only a hospital gown and uttered to you that he was ‘sick and tired of doing nothing’ was something that even a chocolate bar couldn’t beat right now.

Your smirk doesn’t leave. “I don’t know how you expected anything less, Russ.”

A scowl makes you snort.

“Keegan,” you level, “just take a breather, would you? You’re going to aggravate your wound and I’m not sittin’ through you grunting about your pulled stitches.”

“Can’t sit here any longer,” he grumbles. “Gettin’ antsy, Sweetheart.”

Your body nearly shivers at that. Sweetheart—that was a new one. You sigh softly, frowning.

All at once you stand and rub at the top of your sling, itching the strap before your feet pad over the tile to Keegan as his blue eyes shift over to yours. Your hand is leveled out in front of him, and after a moment he takes it, jaw clenched in the slight ache of his wound.

“You’re making yourself look old.” You state casually. “It’s embarrassing to watch.”

A dead glare is all you get before your eyes roll.

“C’mon, Old Timer, let’s get back to bed and I’ll call in your mashed potatoes for supper.”

“Stop it.”

“...What, do you want jello instead, I can ask for that no problem—” Lips are shoved to yours, severing the words from your mouth as you gasp; eyes fluttering wide before they fall back down like feathers.

Keegan kisses you heavily, his nose puffing breaths onto your cheek before he once more pulls back and stares at you.

“You need to know when to cut yourself off, Princes.” He smirks. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

Your face is molten lava, and after a stuttering moment, you let him lean on you as you drag him back to bed.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Keegan.”

“Likewise.”

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flowersandbigteeth · 4 months

Text

Meeting your Changeling BF: Pt 6

General Plot: You and Clark get settled into Leotolas and you learn more about the mysteries you're faced with

Word Count: 5k

Changeling (Clark) x f flower nymph reader

TW: Yandere behavior, Mention of Murder, light mind control, mentions of domestic violence, nsfw smut, bossy dommy Clark, slight degradation kink, oral sex

Find other parts here

“I want you to walk with me to the Mage's Chamber today,” Clark said as he distributed slices of fruit and a sweet goop, something like oatmeal to you. “So you can find it if you ever need me. I wish I could be with you every moment of the day, but the price for safety here is that I complete my duties.”

“What are your duties?” you asked and he grinned that you were interested in his work.

“We research magic and the unknown forces of this world,” he said. “I’m a sargeant mage, which is a difficult position to achieve, but not anywhere close to master. Most of my duties include investigating reports.”

“Reports?” you asked.

“Yes, there are many things in this world that we do not understand,” he explained. “The citizens send us reports of mysterious happenings or confusing magic and we investigate them. We aren’t an army or anything, we rarely intercede if something isn’t explicitly threatening to the way of things…but we file our findings and add it to our knowledgebase.”

“Do you…ever research the whisperer?” you asked and he looked confused.

“The whisperer?” he asked. “What is that? Is someone bothering you?”

You shook your head, feeling foolish.

“Nothing, something I heard in passing that I didn’t understand,” you said. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with us anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow at you before letting it drop.

“Anyway,” he said. “We will be here for a while, but sometimes I’m asked to leave the city to investigate, personally. You can come if you like. I hope you’d come…but if you feel safer here…”

You shook your head.

“No, I want to come,” you said. “I want to learn more about this world.”

He plopped a sack of coins on the table and scooted it to you.

“This is some coin for you to spend,” he said. “Leotolas is an incredibly safe city. There’s no danger to you if you’d like to explore.”

When you finished eating Clark put on his blue mage’s uniform. It was very strapping with a blue shirt that only covered half of his chest and belted at the waist over tight gold pants. A gold badge that indicated his rank adorned his chest and he slid his feet into high boots.

The two of you walked through town until you reached the grand gold building that was the Mage's Chamber. Massive columns stretched up to the pitched roof and blue and gold bunting hung between them. There were no stairs, only a deep incline, you assumed to accommodate creatures without legs.

“Come inside,” he said. “I want to introduce you around.”

“Is it okay?” you asked and he laughed.

“Many mages are married and their partners bring them lunch,” he chuckled. “The only areas that are off limits are at the top floor, where the senior mages have their studies and laboratories. I want to show you where I work.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, clinging to him as he led you into the building.

The hallways were lined with marble and other mages dressed in outfits similar to Clark’s hurried about. He introduced you proudly to so many creatures, you had a hard time remembering their names until one tall woman with long red hair raised a narrow eyebrow at you. Her feet were not stuffed in boots, but were the shape of an eagle’s claws, fluffy red feathers covering her legs and wings were folded behind her back.

“This is Ayla, my senior,” he explained. “Ayla, this is my wife (Y/N).”

She gave you a tight smile.

“Ah, the nymph master Hassan spoke of,” she said. “Welcome to Leotolas. I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable, most do.”

She gave Clark a stern look.

“Get to your office,” she said. “You’ve been neglecting your duties long enough.”

He looked at you nervously and she laughed, which threw you off based on her strict demeanor.

“I’ll give your wife the rest of the tour,” she assured him.

He looked between the two of you, frowning, but seemed unwilling to defy his senior.

“Of course, ma’am,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before he hurried down the hallway.

Ayla watched him leave with a little bit of amusement hovering on her lips.

“Needy and insecure that one,” she commented, then looked down at you. “A personality like that would annoy me, personally, but you can’t account for taste I suppose…”

She sighed.

“Come along,” she said, hooking her arm around yours and tugging you down the hallway.

Unlike Clark, she didn’t bring you around the lower floors, instead she went straight for the winding incline that led to the top floor.

“I thought this was off limits,” you gasped and she looked down at you with a smirk.

“To Clark, yes. To you? No,” she said. “In fact, it would be better if you came here often.”

“Why is that?” you asked, confused and she sighed.

“Clark is very young and jealous,” she explained. “He’s an excellent mage but has a lot of growing to do before he is capable of investigating magic at the senior level. He’s already made some…questionable decisions.”

You frowned at her.

“Like what?” you asked, but she just winked at you.

“I won’t embarrass him by sharing his failures,” she said. “And there’s nothing to fear. Clark adores you. He threw a fit when we asked him to stay in the city and not return to his village. He ran off saying he’d return when his business was complete.”

“Did that get him into trouble?” you asked, nervous Clark was on thin ice.

“No, you cannot force people to do anything,” she said. “You must let them follow their path and live the consequences of the choices they make. He returned and that is enough.”

The top floor of the Mage's Chamber smelled like old paper and wood. Unlike the shiny, clean lower floors, the top floor was filled with artifacts, arranged haphazardly on large bookshelves. There were weapons, armor, and tapestries cluttering the walls. Knick knacks that you couldn’t begin to imagine their purpose crowded the space.

“So what do you want from me?” you asked as she led you into a laboratory.

“I want you to learn,” she said. “I want you to learn our world and armed with that knowledge you can make choices.”

“Choices?” you asked.

She ignored your question, pointing to a table filled with scrolls.

“For now, we’ll start with the language,” she said. “As a traveler knowledge of the written language does not pass through a soul swap like it does orally. Your soul’s match’s body has internalized the muscle memory necessary to produce the correct words. It’s automatic. You’ll need to learn the written form from the beginning. Culture is passed through turns of phrase, biases in recordings. You need to learn to read and write.”

She looked at you, her face dour.

“You are going to learn some things that will, of course, be troubling to you, but as I’m sure Master Hassan mentioned, please keep an open mind,” she said. “Things are not black and white. Right or wrong. Those of us who carry the greatest burdens must let go of the impulse to be heroes– to right what we think is wrong in the world.”

“Then what’s the point?” you asked. “Why learn if you can’t make things better?”

“Better for who?” she asked. “For what? Whose goals should be actualized? Whose should be abandoned? If you insist on a winner there must be a loser. If you make it right for some you make it wrong for others.”

She sighed, shaking her head.

“This is too much for you to understand now,” she said. “As I said, we’ll focus on language.”

You frowned, feeling unsure.

“I don’t think Clark will like me studying,” you admitted. “He has it in his head I should be flitting around blooming flowers.”

She laughed.

“He won’t,” she said. “But he will adjust. This should not be a secret, though some things you learn…you may not want to share. I believe you care for Clark, but you must accept his limitations.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding.

Then your brow narrowed.

“How do I know this isn’t some ploy to use me?” you asked frankly.

She gave you an equally intense look.

“Mages aren’t in the business of using people,” she said. “If we don’t have to interfere we won’t. You can choose to take what you learn and walk away, return to the old wood. No one here will stop you.”

“Then why go to all the trouble?” you asked. “I’m not special.”

When you looked in her eyes, they were clear and not annoyed as you expected them to be.

“You have potential,” she said “It is our business to cultivate potential.”

Her piece done, her face relaxed.

“I think that’s enough for the day,” she said. “Think about what I said and return when you are ready.”

You nodded, turning and finding your way out of the building, puzzling over her words. Taking the afternoon to visit the shops, you suddenly realized how limited you were without knowing how to read. You couldn’t decipher the street names or any of the signs. It took quite some time for you to find your way back home and Clark was already there waiting for you.

“Where have you been?” he asked, appearing frantic.

He ran across the room, throwing his arms around you, making you drop the shopping bags you carried.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking you over for injuries.

You laughed.

“I’m fine, Clark, I got lost because I can’t read any of the signs,” you explained.

He let out a deep breath, holding you to his chest.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go out alone,” he huffed.

“No, that’s silly,” you said. “And anyway, Ayla offered to teach me to read.”

He looked down at you, glaring.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would she offer that?”

“Calm down,” you sighed, pushing him into a chair, sitting on his lap and brushing his hair with your hand. “For just the reason I explained. I can’t get around anywhere without reading the signs. She only intended to be kind AND she offered to teach me at the Mage's Chamber. I’ll be able to see you without her reprimanding you. Wouldn’t you rather I be in the Chamber with you than wandering around the streets lost?”

He bit his lip and thought about it for a moment before nodding.

“I guess that makes sense,” he murmured. “But I don’t understand why Ayla would care.”

“Hmm,” you said, giving him a stern look. “I think she is far more thoughtful than you give her credit for. She shared that you ran off to the village when you were supposed to be here doing your duties. Maybe she just wants to make me comfortable so you don’t take off again, have you considered that?”

His face blanched at that bit of information.

“Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Did she tell you…anything else?”

You smiled and lifted an eyebrow.

“Is there something else to tell?” you asked and he looked away.

“No,” he said, then quickly changed the subject. “Would you like to go out for dinner? There are lots of nice restaurants here.”

You nodded in agreement, you hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the food you’d smelled coming from the street vendors had made you starved. The two of you ended up in what was equivalent to a ramen restaurant, eating massive bowls of noodles and stew. In celebration of your arrival in Leotolas, Clark drank lots of ale and announced to the whole restaurant his love for you in a series of indulgent speeches. By the time the two of you wandered home, he was a little tipsy and very handsy.

“You scared me today, (Y/N). When I arrived home and you weren’t here, I was sure someone had stolen you,” he pouted as you pushed him into your house. “I’m mad at you.”

You giggled at his pouty bottom lip.

“Are you?” you asked, helping him onto the couch.

“I want you to make it up to me,” he growled, his eyes turning from the public gray, to the mischievous red he only shared with you.

“How should I do that?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips and standing over him.

He stretched an arm over the backrest of the couch, looking you over with a lecherous gaze.

“Take off your dress,” he demanded.

You blushed, but your heart skipped at his growly tone. Slowly, you loosened the laces of the garment until it pooled on the floor at your feet. You bent to take off your boots, but he stopped you.

“Leave those on,” he said, his eyes eating up your bare skin. “Take off the underthings and get on your knees.”

You bit your bottom lip, wondering if you should refuse him…but you didn’t exactly want to refuse him. As he asked, you carefully removed your bra and panties, then lowered yourself to the floor. With a bit of attitude, you tossed the panties at him and he gave you a wide smile, showing his very sharp teeth as he pulled them to his nose and breathed in your scent.

“Come here,” he said, crooking his finger at you and you shuffled over to him on your knees, until you were notched between his legs.

He gave you a look that said you should probably have guessed what he wanted, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, putting a heavy hand on your head. “Show me how sorry you are.”

You didn’t break eye contact, opening his fly and pulling his heavy cock into your hand. It was already hard and weeping, a bit of precum slipping down the tip. You licked it up, the salty flavor coating your tongue. Then you dipped your head taking what you could past your lips. He smelled like spicy incense, the scent making you feel light headed.

He let out a deep, satisfied groan, his fingers winding around your hair. Your hand circled what you couldn’t take into your mouth, stroking the velvety skin.

His hips snapped forward, the head of his shaft hitting the back of your throat.

"Gnnnhh," he grunted. "You feel so good."

You bobbed your head on his cock, alternating swirling your tongue over the head and taking him deep. His fingers got tighter and tighter in your hair until he was jerking your head to get you to suck him the way he liked. His eyes were burning in the dim room, splashing a blood red glow over his face.

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue," he demanded, his hand covering yours, making you jerk him off harder and faster.

You pulled your head back, doing as he asked. His eyes were wide as he let out a roar, his hot cum splashing your tongue and cheeks.

He grinned at you, tipping his head to the side with amusement and keeping your mouth open with a thumb on your bottom lip.

"Pretty little cum doll," he hummed, sliding a bit of his spend that was stuck to your cheek onto your tongue with his finger.

"Swallow," he ordered and you closed your mouth, following his directions.

You’re body was on fire with neediness, nipples perked and your pussy wet.

“I should let you suffer,” he murmured. “Leave you wanting for how you abandoned me.”

He scooped you up, kissing you deeply and desperately as he straddled you across his lap.

“But I can’t resist your little cunt,” he whispered into your mouth, jerking his hips up into you.

You let out a breathy moan as he filled you, picking you up and slamming you down on his cock, over and over again. His eyes were burning coals, watching your tits bounce in front of him.

“I saw how the men looked at you tonight. I wanted to rip their eyes out of their heads,” he hissed. “You’re mine…all mine…forever mine.”

He took your breast into his widening mouth as he lost his ability to hold his public form. His long, hot tongue wound around your nipple making you mewl. Stinging teeth pricked your skin, not intending to hurt you but making you squeak, the decadent sensation of pleasure and a little pain making your eyes squeeze shut. He growled like a beast, tasting your blood.

Leaning back he took in his masterpiece. If he didn’t worry so much about hurting you, he would have marked you all over with bites and scars. He wanted everyone to know you were completely his, that they could never compete. Instead his tongue grew inhumanly long, lapping at your clit. Your fingers clung to his shoulders, screaming and sobbing into the crook of his neck as you came undone.

"Yes, yes, that's it," he muttered into your ear, his true voice gravelly and deep. "Only I can make you feel like this…only me."

He jerked you down on his cock with a few more violent strokes until you felt his cock stiffen even more and he filled you with his cum.

A few moments later, as he came to his senses, his big hand stroked the back of your head while he cooed at you. He nuzzled the skin behind your ear, enjoying your closeness and the way your slack body draped over his. Not bothering to carry you to bed, he curled up around you on the couch as you fell asleep with his cock still wedged in your warm wet channel, where he was sure he belonged.

—

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Clark asked as you walked with him to the Mage’s Chamber the next day.

You giggled at him, tipping your head to the side to look at his pouty face.

“Of course I want to learn to read,” you laughed. “Wouldn’t you?”

He shrugged.

“I can read for you!” he insisted. “What if it’s hard?”

You snorted.

“I learned to read my native language and I even took Russian classes in college!” you argued.

He looked confused.

“What is Russian?” he asked and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“It’s another language than the one I grew up speaking,” you explained. “Learning a language is challenging, but it will be easier because the old (Y/N)’s muscle memory is already set for your language. I just need to learn the characters.”

He frowned, his head dipping because he wasn’t getting his way and couldn’t think of an excuse to convince you not to do something you absolutely should be doing.

“You’ve returned,” Ayla said when she saw you in the hallway, headed towards Clark’s office. “Ready to start your lessons?”

You nodded brightly.

“Don’t teach her anything troubling,” Clark said, still pouting. “And don’t be too hard on her. (Y/N) is delicate.”

Ayla frowned at him.

“Are you lecturing your senior, sergeant mage?” she snapped and he looked contrite. “Get to work before I have you scouring the wastelands for dragon bones.”

He turned to you and took your hand.

“It’s okay if it ends up being too hard and you decide to give up,” he said.

You snorted at his silliness and kissed him on the nose.

“Don’t be so worried,” you said. “And don’t argue with Ayla, I don’t want to have to follow you to wherever the wasteland is. I quite like Leotolas.”

That produced a half smile and he dipped his head to kiss your lips. He gave Ayla a glaring nod, before making his way to his own office.

“Clark is fortunate to have someone who indulges him,” she sighed as she led you back to the top floor. “We all want him to be happy, but he can be quite naughty when he wishes to be. It’s so unfair the things they say about changelings. It’s given him a complex. I hope he grows out of it someday.”

She smiled down at you.

“Perhaps a faithful companion will help,” she said with surprising warmth.

She led you to the laboratory you’d been before, helping you into a seat at one of the tables. Large leather books and scrolls were organized much more neatly than the rest of the space.

“These are some children’s workbooks,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “They are magic. When you run your finger along the word or letter the book will make the sound for you. When you’ve mastered the letters, we’ll move on to sight words. I have some experiments to complete, but you can interrupt me if you need help. Sound good to start?”

You nodded, opening the first book. It was very pretty for a simple children’s learning book. There were beautiful illustrations showing different letters associated with different pictures, like any kindergartener’s book. B for boy and S for sun…things like that. The language of the realm was pretty in writing. It appeared to be an elegant script, the characters looking almost like arabic. You were suddenly aware of the sounds that your mouth had been putting together automatically. Spending the morning studying was refreshing. There was a certain optimism that came with educating yourself. It was dangerous to be illiterate, you could easily be tricked.

Around lunch time your mind was wandering and you glanced up at Ayla working with some potions. Curious, you slid beside her to see what she was doing.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, her eyes sliding to you though she didn't turn her head.

You shrugged.

"I just wanted to see what you were working on," you said. "It looks pretty."

You nodded towards the bright pink swirling liquid in one of her flasks.

"Is that magic?" you asked and she made a noise in the back of her throat.

"Not exactly," she said. "What I'm doing is alchemy. The study of transformation. This is a venom, I'm trying to make it into a healing serum."

"Oooh," you said, your eyes wide with interest.

"Watch," she said, her pointer finger starting to glow.

She traced the shape of some glyph over the potion and the pink bled to black and started putting off a terrible smelling smoke.

"Ugh," you gagged and she laughed, lowering her finger and tossing the liquid into a potted plant. To your surprise the plant grew several inches and flowers bloomed.

"I can only change it into a fertilizer," she said, wrinkling her brow. “I’m still trying to sort out why.”

You touched a freshly unrolled leaf and suddenly the world blurred.

Grow. Grow. Grow. Twist the vines. Open the blooms. Crush the glass. Splinter the tools. Send the outsiders to the Earth. Grow. Grow. Grow.

"(Y/N)!" Ayla shouted and your vision cleared, but in front of you the plant had taken over most of the table, long vines hanging off the edge and abnormally large flowers opening.

She looked at you and narrowed her eyes.

"You have no control over your magic, do you?" she asked, her words seeming like an accusation.

You shook your head, though your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Clark…you fool," she murmured under her breath, rubbing her eyes as if she were tired.

"I suppose as a traveler you wouldn't," she said to you sharply, looking up,"We must work on that. It's dangerous if you lose control. We will correct this oversight."

"I'm sorry about your desk," you offered.

She waved a finger and the broken flasks and snapped tools disappeared in a flash of black flame.

"You'll fix that plant by the end of the day," she said, her tone curt.

All you could do was nod.

"Come along," she growled, waving for you to follow her. "We'll do this lesson in the garden…where you can't break anything."

She led you back to the ground floor and out of the back door where there was a large garden filled with herbs and specimens of trees. You didn't recognize them right away, but you felt oddly like you knew them. You didn't know their names, but looking at a small blooming plant with purple flowers you knew its sap was good for cleansing. Another plant whose fronds were like still whips made a sweet tea. As you walked through the garden it was as if some closed door in your mind opened.

The plants seemed to be singing to you quietly. Some had low humming notes while others sang in a sweet soprano. How could you have not felt this before?

"It seems the whisperer has touched you," Ayla said sitting on a bench under a tree that looked very much like a willow. She patted the open spot next to her and you sat down.

"Had you been the old (Y/N) you would have been hearing her voice your whole life and had some semblance of control. Your mind from your universe is slowly opening to the magic of this world," she explained.

“Why doesn’t Clark know of the whisperer?” you asked. “When I mentioned it he acted like he’d never heard of her before.”

Her eyes flashed.

“That’s above Clark’s pay grade,” she said. “The whisperer is a secret among nymphs. She’s a mysterious force we know little about. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, nymphs keep their secrets close to their chests. Is she a force for good? Bad? We like to think of her in the most realistic terms. Wolves eat does. Eagles hunt fish. Insects consume carcasses. There is no right or wrong in nature. No good or bad. It’s an interconnected system and she is the voice of that system. It’s likely (Y/N) never shared this knowledge with Clark because the whisperer did not want to be known to him.”

“But you know of her,” you pointed out.

“That information was obtained at a high price,” she said. “But none of that is important. You need to learn not to allow her to control you. You must resist her or she’ll use you to fulfill her purpose. Wild growth.”

“The other nymphs seemed to think we are her army,” you said, your eyes roving over the many plants enjoying the sunlight.

“What do you think?” Ayla asked.

You thought for a moment.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you admitted.

“In this world, you may have to,” she said, following your eyes. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’d like to have control over who I hurt, then,” you said.

“That’s a wise impulse,” she laughed.

“So…how do I control her words,” you asked. “Whenever I hear her voice the world goes blurry and her voice echoes in my head. It feels like she takes over.”

“Think of yourself like a bottle neck,” she explained. “You need her energy to use nymph magic…but if you allow her free reign she’ll get out of control. You must release her will in a small, controlled stream. Have you tried talking back to her?”

You blinked.

“No,” you said.

She glanced around to a small potted plant tucked with some others and handed it to you.

“This plant does not bloom in this season,” she said. “Try to make it bloom.”

You took the pot and set it on your lap, eyeing it nervously.

“Go on,” she said. “You won’t break anything but the pot.”

Touching a leaf the world became smudged again.

Grow. Grow. Grow. the whisperer said. How dare the outsiders trap us in a pot! Break the clay! Grow. Grow. Grow.

No, you said in your head. I don’t want to break the pot.

A sharp bite of pain burst between your eyes, making your head snap back.

GROW! GROW! GROW!

NO! You barked back.

The pain in your head grew like a flash bang, making your vision go white. When you opened your eyes again you were looking at Clark.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Are you okay?” Clark gasped, holding your head in his hand. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Ayla appeared in your vision.

“What happened?” she asked.

You sat up rubbing the spot between your eyes where the pain had centered.

“She fought back,” you groaned, shaking your head.

You glanced on the ground to find the pot wasn’t broken at all. The plant was blooming blue blossoms and you smiled.

“I did it!” you said, grinning.

Ayla matched your smile, patting your head.

“Progress,” she said.

Clark glared at her.

“Progress?” he growled. “What in goddess’s name are you talking about? You hurt her! What are you two doing out here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere (Y/N)!”

You shook your head.

“No, no, Clark,” you tried to explain. “Ayla didn’t do anything to me…it was–”

You paused unsure what to tell him, remembering the other (Y/N)’s warning. You decided to keep the whisperer a secret a little while longer. If Clark tried to do something to “help” you, he could get hurt. This was nymphs' business and would remain so for a while.

“I was practicing my magic,” you explained. “I’m just not used to it yet. I was overwhelmed. No harm done, I promise.”

Clark snapped his head up at Ayla anyway.

“I thought you were just going to teach her to read!” he barked. “Why does she need to learn magic? She’s just fine without it!”

Ayla rolled her eyes at him and flicked a finger. Like a bad puppy he lifted from the ground by the back of his shirt and a bluish box surrounded him.

“He needs a time out,” she said and then smiled at you. “Do you think you can try that again tomorrow?”

You nodded, trying to ignore Clark attempting to fight the magic holding him off of the ground.

“It hurt like a bitch, but I’m pretty sure I can do it again,” you said.

She nodded.

“I believe in time the whisperer will come to accept your control…at least other nymphs who have rejoined civilization have said it’s possible,” she explained. “Maybe try to avoid touching any plants tonight.”

She winked and the box holding Clark dissolved is a cloud of blue sparkles. He flopped on the ground, landing on his ass. He grabbed you by your hips, pulling you to him.

“We are going home!” he snapped at Ayla, then looked at you. “You poor thing. I can’t believe she would do this to you! I’m going to put you in bed and stuff you with treats until you feel better.”

He picked you up in his arms and marched out of the garden with you, complaining the whole way home. You hardly had an opportunity to get a word in as he ranted and raved about how cruel Ayla was being and this was all so terribly unjust.

When you reached your house he carefully undressed you and stuck you in bed. He left the room for a moment and came back with a warm water bottle and put it on your head.

“I’m going to make you something sweet,” he said, then narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t move.”

You closed your eyes for a little, thinking. The hot water bottle did feel nice. Your head had somewhat of an echoing ache that was slowly fading. The whisperer had lashed out at you. She wanted to be in charge and did not like to be challenged. But you could challenge her. You hadn’t died, she’d only thrown a bit of a tantrum. That made you feel a little better…more in control. You’d been ignoring the guilt you felt for murdering Harri. Him throwing you around a bit made it easier to justify your actions, but in reality did he really deserve death? He had been trying to kidnap you. Such attempts required deadly force, perhaps. You tried not to focus too hard on the scales of justice. Both Ayla and Hassan had told you to keep your mind open, not focus too hard on polarities. Maybe this was one of those moments.

“What are you thinking about so deeply?” Clark asked when he returned with a big pile of fruit crumble sitting in a pool of condensed milk.

“Oh…nothing really,” you said. “That looks delicious!”

You put your hands out to accept the plate but Clark held it away.

“Let me do it,” he insisted, scooping a spoonful and holding it up to your mouth.

You swallowed the sweet treat, the flavors of sugary cream melting with some tart berry.

“Do you like it?” he asked you, seeming to yearn for your approval. “Is it good? I can make you something else if you don’t like it.”

“It’s wonderful,” you admitted, smiling at him when he looked relieved.

While he fed you, you watched him, amused. No one in your old life had cared for you so much. That world was a grind that broke people. It still shocked you that the other (Y/N) claimed she liked it. In that world you all were crabs in a bucket, yanking each other down for a chance at being one inch closer to escape, but never getting further than halfway there. There wasn’t time to cultivate deep relationships. Sure, like anyone you’d had friends in school when you had the free time to socialize, but as soon as you joined the working world, your existence narrowed to interacting with people you would never choose to spend time with at your job.

Now there was a whole world for you to discover.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he said, looking you over. “Do you still hurt?”

“No,” you giggled. “I just wonder what this world holds for me. I feel like a baby barely scratching the surface of what is out there.”

He leaned towards you, kissing your forehead.

“I will keep you safe,” he assured you, though that’s not really what you were worried about.

He pulled off his shirt and boots, slipping under the comforter and snuggling up with you.

“You must be sleepy,” he said and your eyelids grew heavy, sliding shut. “You need a nice long rest.”

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shisuisui · 7 months

Text

The Chunin Exams and the attack on the hokage (Kakashi x Reader; past Shisui x Reader)

This scenario is kind of chronological to the anime, I just added some details. Main pairing Kakashi x fem. reader (Sarutobi reader), past Shisui x reader

wc: 5k

tw: character death, blood, etc. angsty with a bit of fluff and action

Age 21

It was time for the Chunin Exams. After watching the Uzumaki and Hyuga boys fight Y/n intently paid attention to Shikamaru´s fight. After all, he is her brother´s student. But from what Asuma had told her she knew that he would be the winner. So, it´s not surprising that she and everyone else were shocked when he gave up. That boy is something. Now it was time for Sasuke´s and Gaara´s match. The latter is Baki´s student with whom she had quite a few bad experiences before the peace treaty. She watched Sasuke concentrate the chakra to his hand and…. the Chidori. Kakashi had taught his student his technique. She still got goosebumps when hearing the chirping sound of this jutsu… and in this moment Sasuke reminded her so much of young Kakashi.

Suddenly she saw white feathers fall in front of her eyes – a genjustu. Hastily releasing herself from it she made eye contact with Gai and Kakashi who stood beside her, all of their eyes immediately going to the Hokage… who was held captive by the kazekage. Y/n watched her fellow Jonin Raido get hit by multiple kunai, and a barrier of ninjutsu formed around the two of them. So the Suna betrayed Konoha. “Gai, Kakashi you two take care of them. I need to find my father.” Both nodded and took over the sounds nin that were in their way while she went to rescue her father. Coming to a halt in front of the barrier she stood beside the Anbu who also couldn´t go in. Tensely she watches the kunai being held at her father´s throat. The both of them make eye contact. He might be an incredibly strong ninja, but he´s also way out of his prime and his health had been declining with age. The kazekage took the kunai away and reached for his face, tearing it down and revealing … Orochimaru. How did he get in? If he´s after Sasuke why is he holding the Hokage hostage? He held the kunai and pushed it into his palm. He let go of her father and turned his back to him. They seemed to be talking about something but there was no way to hear through the barrier. If there only was a way to break through it. She used her ability to visualize chakra and tried to sense an opening, just a small loophole would be enough for her to break through. The time was ticking because if her father and Orochimaru engaged in a fight, she couldn´t confidently say that her father would make it out alive. “This barrier can´t be broken unless it´s from the inside. If Lord Hokage would take out one of those four sound ninjas we could help.” The words of the Anbu next to her only added to her desperation. The whole situation seems so hopeless. She observed the barrier more closely. There has to be a way. The points closest to the enemy nin have a huge amount of chakra, and so do the edges surrounding the barrier that leaves…. The middle. Right in the middle the barrier seems to be slightly weaker. But if she would get closer it would burn her alive. She needs to find a way to break through that weak point. Especially now, that the fight between the Hokage and his former student, one of the legendary Sannin started, and both charged at each other. Her father used a mud substitution to escape Orochimaru´s attack but how long can he substitute himself? Both continued their attacks at each other, each jutsu grander than the one before. “He´s combined earth and fire. Excellent Lord Hokage!” Yes excellent, but how long can he keep this up? She watched her father throw off the Hokage robe, revealing his ninja armor. Did he expect this? Why hadn´t he told her? Yes, she was aware of the threat that Orochimaru was but if he was so sure to fight why didn´t he add her to his guard? She could´ve been in there with him and fought alongside him. The fighting continued when he suddenly looked over at her and then looked at the middle of the barrier. The weaker part. His hand glided to his pocket, and he took out a small piece of paper with a seal on it. The transportation seal she had once given him.

Ten years earlier: Age 11: Y/n went to the Hokage tower. She had experimented the whole day and Shisui had even helped her to successfully make the transportation seal. With this seal, she can immediately reach whoever possesses the seal. That person only has to infuse it with a little bit of chakra and it will immediately resonate with her and basically pull her in. She hoped her father would like it. He should be in the tower doing important stuff. Timidly knocking on the door to his office she stared at her feet. Will he like it? Will he be proud? What if he thinks it´s stupid? Asking her to come in she opened the door. “Hello, father.” “Y/n, what brings you here? I thought you had already done your mission for this week.” “I´m not here for a mission. I-I-I made something for you and I hope you like it.” She gave him the piece of paper. Lord Third looked at it skeptically. His eyes widened when he realized what he held in his hands. “How did you do it? Making a seal like this is quite difficult, especially for someone your age.” “I studied a lot. It´s for you. When you´re in trouble one day just infuse it with a bit of chakra and I will be there to help you. No matter what happens.” He showed a small smile and put the paper away in a drawer of his table. “Thank you Y/n, but now go, I have work to do.” To say she was disappointed would be an understatement. He didn´t take her seriously. He probably never will….

She watched as he held the piece of paper between two fingers and watched the blue chakra infuse the paper. Her body vibrated. She felt like a thousand ants were crawling under her skin. The seal called for her. She concentrated on the weak part of the barrier while simultaneously preparing her body for the jump. This is her only chance. Her only chance to save her father. With one last look into his eyes, she focused on the paper and jumped through the barrier, landing right by his side.

Glaring at Orochimaru she took on a fighting stance. Ready to protect her father with her life. “You kept the seal.” “I have always carried it with me for the past ten years.”

Orochimaru was smirking towards them. “I have to admit I did not expect this turn of events. But it won´t change much about the outcome Sarutobi Sensei. The only difference will be that both of you will die.”

Two wooden caskets descended from the ground and inside were… The first and the second Hokage. Hashirama and Tobirama Senju. What has Orochimaru done? She glanced at her father; he was just as exasperated. “Now, what will you do Sarutobi Sensei?”

Lord First and Lord Second stepped out. “Long time no see… Saru.” “Oh, it´s you. You´ve gotten old, Sarutobi.” There´s no way they were going to win a fight against both of them and Orochimaru. “Father, what should we do?” “I never thought I would meet the great brothers in this manner… It´s regretful. Please prepare yourselves. Lord First Hokage. At his word, the first Hokage looked at him and glanced at Y/n. “Father?” Hashirama Senju´s face contorted in a frown. Already sensing what´s going to occur between him and his brother and their former student and his daughter. Lord Second Hokage.” Tobirama glanced at his back “Edo Tensei? This youth summoned us with the forbidden jutsu.” Orochimaru controlled both Hokages and Y/n and her father had to fight them.

“Please prepare yourselves, Sarutobi Sensei, young Sarutobi.” With these words Orochimaru completed the bodies, making them look alive, and controlling them fully. “They look like how they used to look more than ever.” Y/n turned to her father who pressed his fingers against his forehead. His voice sounded shaky. She could not imagine what it must feel like to fight against the ones who taught you and who you looked up to. Orochimaru is a sick bastard.

The bodies started walking towards them… and then attacked with an incredible speed. Her father fought against Lord first while Y/n took on Lord second. Her father used his fire jutsu, only for it to be countered by Lord Second´s water style. Just the Tobirama signed his Water Shock Wave. Y/n activated her blades which are like knives but the chakra extends them to a huge scale. Right when the water was about to hit them she sliced through the jutsu, spreading the water to flow around them. There was so much water. Just the Hashirama started his attack and no matter how many fire shots her father was firing they did nothing against the first hokage. While focused on Tobirama Y/n had to watch how her father was beaten with Taijutsu by Hashirama and fell into the water. Slowly getting up. While looking out for her father she neglected Tobirama who charged at her with his sword. Blocking it with her blades she was all too aware of how hopeless the situation looked, and how their chances to make it out alive sank by the minute. Her thoughts were interrupted by tree trunks started sprouting through the roof. “Deep forest emersion” Her surroundings turned into moving trees, unstable and out to catch her. Her arms were caught by two branches twisting and chaining her to the ground. They needed reinforcements immediately. She could hardly move and neither could her father. A look at her was enough. She knew what to do. Trying her hardest to put her hand on a surface she summoned the only hope for this fight. Alongside her father's Monkey King Enma, her own summon Monkey Prince Enki appeared. Both are similar in looks but Enki looks more youthful than his father. “Enki, get me out of here.” The summon looked at her. “Long time no see Y/n, look at me. I´m nearly as tall as my father.” One stern look from her was enough and he worked on the branches breaking them with his enormous strength. She looked over and saw Enma already eyeing Orochimaru. “Orochimaru… I knew this would happen. You´re pathetic Sarutobi… It´s because you didn´t kill him back then and it´s too late to do it now.” “Please Enma. The Adamantine Nyoi.” She watched Enma transform into a staff and break her father free. “Come on Enki you too.” Enki nodded and transformed a staff too. The Adamantine Staff is as hard as a diamond and extremely destructive. Holding Enki in her hands she turned toward Lord Second when Orochimaru took a sword out of his mouth. The Snake Sword is one of the only things that can hurt Enma and Enki. Her father attacked Orochimaru leaving her with both Hokages. While the sword and the staff clashed, she focused on the reanimated bodies in front of her. Defending Tobirama´s sword attack with Enki. Enki managed to block the attack and send Tobirama flying towards the barrier. His back hit it and caught fire. But he seemed unfazed by it. So they also don´t feel any pain. Well makes sense since they´re dead. Turning to Hashirama she saw him turning towards her father and Orochimaru but before he could start running, she already charged at him, Enki firmly in her hands.

Her father was losing the fight against Orochimaru. She watched him getting punched by Orochimaru and staying down. “FATHER!” “Are you okay, Sensei?” Y/n attacked Orochimaru with her staff. Orochimaru summoned a snake which curled around Y/n body twisting it. She tried to reach her blades to cut through it but the snake was faster, trapping them alongside her at her body. Orochimaru stood on her father, who was still lying on the roof. She couldn´t hold back the tears that started to escape. This helplessness.

“Orochimaru…. YOU FOOL.” Her father grabbed that bastard and kicked his legs, sending Orochimaru to the ground while Enma´s hand shot out of the staff to choke him and hold him up in the air. Using substitution Orochimaru freed himself. She tried to free herself as the two Hokages started walking towards her father but the snake only twisted her tighter. A bit more and it would break both her arms and then crush her.

Orochimaru took off his face again to reveal a much younger one. “You´re a truly frightening, inhuman monster! So this is why you want Sasuke Uchiha? To take over his body and never age?” Orochimaru or whoever body he´s in smiled viciously. “Right… Exactly… Sasuke.” Orochimaru switched his face back to his old one for the final fight. The first Hokage used his wood release to release to fill the barrier even more with his trees. Only the Adamantine cage from Enma protects him. “What´s been wrong with you? This isn´t like you!” Hiruzen only let out a sigh, looking down. “I´m sorry…” Filled with new determination Hiruzen said, “I´ll bury you and correct my old mistakes, now!” Suddenly the third Hokage used the shadow clone Justu and made two clones of himself, distributing the little chakra he had left. Y/n looked confused, why would he do that in this situation? And then it dawned upon her. “D-Don´t tell me, he…?!” The order of the signs her father was signing. She knew what he was planning. A Grim Reaper will appear behind him looking like a ghost surrounded by a blue light but only those who signed a contract with this Jutsu can see it. Her father had told Y/n about it one night as they talked to father and daughter. Hiruzen looked behind him a saw the Shinigami. Just then Tobirama used his Infinite Darkness Jutsu surrounding all of them in a black abyss. Y/n was in a tricky situation. She had to get out of the snake´s hold. She had an idea. It was reckless, stupid, and done wrong might cost her life. She had her chakra blades in her hands facing her body, not the snake. But if she would activate them and send lots of chakra through them to lengthen the blade… it would also cut through the snake. She had no other choice. Now or never. Trying to keep her screams in she activated the blades and felt it go through her sides, slicing the flesh. A burning smell came to her nose and she tried her hardest to not scream too loud. Her whole body was shaking and covered in sweat but the snake fell limply down and she was free now, although wounded. Still surrounded by darkness she heard her father getting attacked. “Orochimaru! Now I will perform an ace jutsu even if you don´t know! Behold! Sealing Jutsu! Reaper Death Seal!” The Grim Reaper was mumbling some words she didn´t understand but she heard her father cough and let out a scream. Hiruzen ran around in the darkness when he suddenly. “I got you” Appear!”. The darkness around them vanished and she was able to see again. Both clones had grabbed the reanimated Hokage and held them tight. Hashirama then said “I´m sorry… Sarutobi…” Slowly the souls of both reanimated bodies were sucked out leaving them as white shells. “Please forgive me Lord Forst Hokage, Lord Second Hokage.” “SEAL” He sealed the bodies in his own. Now it was just Orochimaru. Could they win? Was this their chance? But her father had lost so much chakra and she wasn´t in a better situation. Getting up she went to stand beside her father. The blood from her wounds dripped down her body and bloodied her clothes. But she could care less about it. The bodies of the Hokages disappeared and left two dead Oto Nin. He did this to his own subordinates. She gasped when she saw them. “Toying with even the lives of your own subordinates…! You are truly a sick bastard Orochimaru.” How was this person once a Konoha Ninja? The student of her father? Her father’s clones disappeared, and he called for Enma who was still in staff form. Y/n called for Enki to get ready to fight. Hiruzen looked at his daughter. How much she had to go through in this fight. Wounded. Tired. “Y/n, you stay back this is between me and my former student.” “But father I can help.” He looked at her with a sad smile. “I know you can. And you helped me enough to get to make it to this point in the fight. But now you will stay back. I´m not ordering you as Hokage, I´m asking as your father. Please stay back.” Tears started to form in her eyes. She looked at him, and then slowly nodded taking small steps back.

Her father and Orochimaru went at each other when her father managed to grab onto Orochimaru. “You´re mine.” Orochimaru looked shocked and confused. He held onto him and couldn´t see the Snake Sword that Orochimaru motioned to start. “FATHER WATCH OUT” The sword flew at a rapid pace, going through her father. Y/n cried out. Her heartbreaking scream echoed in the barrier. Hiruzen coughed out some blood. Enma held onto the sword, so it didn’t go completely through Hiruzen. A shocked Orochimaru before him. “Why didn´t you dodge it?” Her father looked at Orochimaru. “The Reaper Death Seal. In this sealing jutsu, in exchange for the effectiveness of Jutsu one´s soul is handed to the Grim Reaper.” The same jutsu that sealed the Nine-Tailed Fox twelve years ago. Orochimaru tried to sign for a different Jutsu but it seemed ineffective. Orochimaru´s soul was slowly dragged out by the Grim Reaper´s hand. The Grim Reaper lifted his sword. “Knock it off” You old dotard! I won´t let you do as you like.” Orochimaru signed with his free hand and the sword started to slowly continue piercing through her father. She saw her father struggling. The sword continued to pierce through him. Hiruzen started to doubt himself. Was he not able to take Orochimaru with him? No, he had to. For Konoha.

While Y/n watched her father and Orochimaru struggle the fights in Konoha continued. She could only hope that her fellow shinobi were fighting the enemies off well.

The Anbu was still watching, unable to do anything. “It´s taking much too long. It´s impossible for a battle between Shinobi to last this long. What the heck is happening inside?”

The whole village had turned into a battlefield, Suna and Oto nin had infiltrated the village and were fighting against Konoha ninja. Bodies were everywhere. Orochimaru looked his former sensei in the eyes. “Your side… the Leaf Shinobi… will be annihilated down to every last woman and child! I will accomplish the destruction of the Hidden Leaf Village!!!”

Outside the barrier, Kakashi and Gai alongside other Jonin were fighting the last enemies that were in the arena. Kakashi looked up to the barrier. Y/n was inside with the third Hokage. He hoped she was still alive. She had to be. He couldn´t lose her too.

Y/n heard Orochimaru´s words. She was already close to passing out, with little chakra with some blood loss. She hoped Konohamaru was safe. They were probably evacuated already. Her thoughts drifted to Kakashi as she slumped down to the ground hoping that with a little rest, she could fight again. Kakashi who was by her side these past years after losing Shisui. If she died now, she would be able to see him again. But she couldn´t leave Kakashi alone in this world, and she didn´t want to. Not after all the nights they´ve shared, after the conversations in the dark, after being comfortable enough to take off his mask in front of her. She didn´t want to give this up. But maybe she had no other choice. Watching Orochimaru and her father she realised that she might not make it out of this alive.

Y/n listened to her father peaking up at his words. “To protect the village, all the Leaf Shinobi will risk their lives fighting! Real strength doesn´t lie in the mastering of all Jutsu! I believe I taught this to you too, in the past… It´s when one protects someone important that the true strength of the Shinobi will emerge!” These words. Her father had told them to her so many times.

Coughing up blood Hiruzen said “It appears that I don’t have the strength left to yank out your entire soul. However, your ambition ends here! I will take away all your Jutsu with me!” Orochimaru was screaming when he and her father were suddenly pushed away from each other “SEAL” Orochimaru´s arms started to turn purple and fell limp to his sides. “Your ambition of crushing the Hidden Leaf… dies right here!” Her father turned towards her, gave her one last look muttering an “I´m sorry Y/n” and fell.

Numb. She felt numb. Her father he-he he is laying there on the ground. With the last strength she had left, she got up screaming in pain. She had lost another person she loved. Y/n´s screams echoed in the barrier and Orochimaru turned towards her. She was making her way towards him, tears falling from her eyes. Taking out a kunai she stalked towards Orochimaru. Towards the man who was responsible for her father´s death. At the same time, Enma was crawling towards her father. “Sarutobi…” He took the sword and thought that this was a fitting end for someone like him. Dying for his people. Protecting his people. Enma vanished.

Y/n stalked towards him. “OROCHIMARU I WILL KILL YOU!” He felt like his arms were burning, turned towards his subordinates who held up the barrier. “This is where we call off our plan. Release the barrier.” She was launching towards him when one of Orochimaru´s subordinates came in front of him and stabbed his own kunai into her. She fell back and fell. Orochimaru gave her one last look. A pity really, father and daughter dying side by side.

Y/n felt like her whole body was on fire. She was coughing up blood. She wanted to go to him, so she dragged her body up towards her father leaving a bloody trail. When she was next to him, she reached out her hand and took his in her own. Turning her head to the side she saw one last tear drop from his closed eyes. She couldn´t move anymore. Kakashi… I´m sorry…. Hiruzen and Y/n lay there, side by side in a pool of blood.

The barrier was released and all the ninjas surrounding looked at it. Gai, Kakashi, and Genma watched from the middle of the arena. “The barrier is released,” Gai said. All three scowling. It was Genma who said it. “Where is Lord Hokage?”

Kakashi looked up. “Y/n should be there too.”

Orochimaru was fleeing with his subordinates when the Anbu took their chance and followed them but were stopped by a spider net that was released from one of the enemy ninjas.

On the ground, Kabuto and Baki were retreating too. Kakashi Gai and Genma went to the roof where the barrier was only to find…. The two bodies lay there, beat up and bloodied. No, Kakashi thought, not her, she couldn´t be…. He couldn´t move. Gai and Genma checked their heartbeats. Genma shook his head when he checked the Third Hokage, but Gai perked up. “Kakashi she´s still alive.” She was alive.? She was alive! He ran towards her and scooped her up in his arms carrying her to the next medic nin he could find. He looked at her. She felt so limp in his arms. He couldn´t lose her. He didn´t want to lose her.

At the hospital, she was immediately taken care of by the doctors. She had lost so much blood. He slid down a wall in the hallway and looked at his hands. Her blood was sticking to them and starting to dry up. Kakashi didn´t know how long he was sitting there. Soon Asuma, Gai, and Kurenai came, all taking a seat next to him, waiting for any news. Kurenai held Asuma´s hand. He had just lost his father and did not know if his sister would make it. A doctor finally came out and looked at the jonin on the floor. “She made it.” He felt like crying, she was alive. “Asuma-san would you like to see her?” He nodded and got up walking towards the door, and then poked Kakashi with his feet pointing with his head towards the door of the hospital room. No words needed to be said between the two men. Asuma is not stupid. He knew of the little glances, the “accidental” touches, or how much time these two would spend together.

Both men walked through the door. There she was. Covered in bandages and hooked to a monitor. “She´s currently in a stable condition but the healing process might take a while. We´re expecting her to wake up today or tomorrow. I will leave you alone.” Asuma walked towards her. Y/n, his little sister whom he couldn´t protect. Meanwhile, Kakashi stood still by the door. He shouldn´t have let her go after her father alone. He should´ve been with her. But there were so many enemies.

That night when the hospital was silent and everyone slept soundly in their undestroyed homes or tents until they were rebuilt, Kakashi went to Y/n´s hospital room, taking a seat next to her bed. He took her hand in his and told her softly about everything that happened that day, of his students.

He summoned Pakkun, knowing that Y/n enjoyed being around him. “Yes Boss?” the gruffy voice of the pug came. He looked around at the hospital and then at Y/n. “Boss Lady?” He walked towards the face and poked her cheek with his little nose. No words needed to be said as he got comfortable and laid down next to her. Her hand still in Kakashi´s he continued talking.

It was around midnight when he felt it. A little squeeze of his hand. He looked at her and saw her eyes open slightly. Taking off his mask he gently held her head up and gave her some water. Pakkun who had woken up settled against her shoulder. Y/n looked at Kakashi her eyes filling with tears. “I couldn´t protect him.” That was all it took for her to break down. Kakashi slowly took her in his arms and settled into the hospital bed himself with her in his lap, his arms holding her tightly while she cried the whole night.

At sunrise, Asuma came to visit her. It was the day of the funeral and he wanted to see if she could come. When Y/n saw her brother the tears fell again. “I´m sor-“she couldn´t finish her sentence as he had taken her into a hug and held her tightly. He was shaking too. The siblings held onto each other and let out their tears.

It was a rainy day and Y/n and Asuma made their way towards the funeral. Everyone was wearing black. Shinobi and civilians. While walking she held onto her brother, her other hand holding a crutch to keep her up. “Was Kurenai tonight with you?” He nodded. “She refused to leave me alone. Even spend the night. I´m guessing you weren´t alone either?” He looked at his sister. Kakashi was a ninja you could count on and someone who would always have your back so he didn´t mind. She just nodded. Condolences came from everyone they met. She couldn´t remember who had talked to her.

When they arrived, they took their place in the first row, as the Hokage´s children. Konohamaru was between her and Asuma while Kurenai took a place by Asuma´s side. Kakashi simply stood next to her and held her up with an arm around her face. She couldn´t look up. She couldn´t face the picture at the front. Konohamaru was now crying and clinging to her, arms holding her clothes tightly. She hugged him as well as she could. Ignoring the pain from her wounds she let him cling to her and was grateful to Kakashi for holding her up.

It started raining. “Rain,” Kurenai said. Asuma gave the woman by his side a small look “The sky has started to weep as well…”

Her father's former teammates and village elders Homura and Koharu lead the memorial service. She could barely listen. After everyone left a white flower at the table she gave Konohamaru into the care of her brother. Kakashi was already gone. She knew where she would find him. At the memorial stone.

How was she supposed to go there? She looked over at Gai who had already guessed what she was about to do. He carried her towards the direction of the memorial stone and left her there. The last bit she could walk herself as well as she could with an umbrella.

He already felt her. Sensed her chakra. She went to his side and brought her arm around him which was difficult with an umbrella at hand. He leaned into her touch, took the umbrella from her hands to hold over them, and pulled her to his side hugging her and supporting her at the same time. She turned to him and put her head on his chest. He reacted while supporting his chin on her head and holding her tighter.

Both were reminiscing the memories of their loved ones who they´ve lost while being in the arms of each other.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #reader insert #sarutobi reader #shisui uchiha #shisui x reader #the life of y/n sarutobi #naruto fic #asuma sarutobi #hiruzen sarutobi #character death #kakashi fic #kakashi imagine

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lovepotionnumber5 · 1 year

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inside out

[5k, supercorp-y, his dark materials meets supergirl, basically. or a daemon au. i had fun w this, might continue it! I guess rated t for luthor fam creepiness]

Supergirl is a woman apart.

She swoops regal and steadfast above the city she’s sworn to protect, her cape flapping with a quality that’s somehow just over the line of not-from-this-earth. Her gaze scans through crowds, buildings, the very sidewalk beneath National City’s feet. The heat of her eyes is too bright to be looked at directly, the force of her muscles so great that she seems perpetually gentle in all her interactions.

She is beautiful. Her hair glints golden in the sunlight, and she offers help with no expectation of thanks or reward. On days when the streets are quiet and calm, she cleans out the gutters of an older woman’s house, or plays a game of basketball with a lonely teenager in his step-dad’s driveway. She can change the weather with a breath, the surliest citizen’s day with a smile.

If she seems super-human, that’s because she is; she’s beyond humanity, but still close enough to touch. Always within reach, holding out a hand, asking if you need help.

And, of course, she doesn’t have a daemon.

Kieran settles fourteen days after they arrive at Luthor Manor, exactly one day before Lena’s fifth birthday. She wakes in an unfamiliar bed (and room, and house, and city, and country—) and she just knows. Something inside her that was malleable and questioning has turned to stone as she slept.

Kieran sits on the unused pillow on the other side of Lena’s new, too-big bed. She reaches out and slips a few fingers through his ink-black feathers, soft as silk.

“You’re very pretty,” she whispers, “as a raven.”

They’re all over Luthor Manor, the ravens, always driving the groundskeeper mad by lining up on the eaves. Lena’s spent two weeks watching them, listening to them caw to each other, sitting on her hands and trying not to cry as Greza prowls back and forth below them.

“I’m going to fly us away from here, Lena,” Kieran promises. “Up into the sky.”

Lena thinks of Eoghan’s rust colored plumage, the black and white tips of his wings, the way he had dissolved into dust in midair and drifted like snow down onto the lake her mother had disappeared into.

“Okay,” Lena agrees. She’s still whispering. “Fly us away, Kieran.”

When Tantox slithers down Lillian’s arm and flicks his tongue at them, Kieran digs his talons into Lena’s shoulder. Sometimes, on nights when the stars twinkle the brightest, he circles the Manor with powerful flaps of his wings. He’s always by Lena’s side when she finally drifts off to sleep.

Some nights, when Greza stalks them down the carpeted halls all afternoon, when she hears the quiet, occasional tap of Lex’s oxfords against the hardwood where he missteps in pursuit of his daemon, Lena finds her bedroom door locked from the outside.

It’s only when she returns to the Manor for holidays as a teenager that the cage appears in her bedroom. It’s brass, large and beautiful, and the aesthetic curves of the metal match the new bars outside of her window. Lex’s smile is different, and he had greeted her car at the end of the driveway without Greza anywhere in sight.

“We’ve tightened up security,” Lillian tells her, waving the hand that doesn’t have Tantox wrapped around it towards the foot of her bed, where one of the butlers places Lena’s trunk. “Let’s not make a fuss about it, hm?”

There’s an ugly wound, stark red against Tantox’s white scales, only visible in flashes when Lillian moves and her shirt sleeve rides up. Lena, thirteen and surly, with a daemon settled for nearly a decade, bites down hard on her tongue to keep from fighting back.

That night, Kieran cautiously hops onto the perch in the cage.

“It’s only for a week,” Lena promises. “Then we’ll be back at school.”

“Keep me close,” Kieran pleads. “I haven’t seen Greza yet. I don’t know where she could be.”

Lena sits on the edge of her bed and crams her hands under her thighs. “Lex is here, so she can’t be far. Maybe she spent the day napping on the patio. There’s that sunspot she likes.”

Kieran fluffs his wings. He doesn’t have to say anything—Lena knows it’s a weak suggestion.

Only a decade later, fresh from testifying against her brother in a crowded courtroom, will Lena wonder if it was him who locked her bedroom door, or if the click-clack she heard against the hardwood outside had been her mother’s heels all along.

“Don’t look at people’s daemons,” Alex tells her. “Or ask about them. And never even think about touching them.”

“You touch Q,” Kara points out, still confused. She doesn’t know what Q is short for, because Alex gets mad whenever she asks. “And Eliza touches Wrenott.”

Alex makes a kind of growl-scream noise of frustration. “That’s because Q is mine,” she seethes, “and I’m Q’s, and it’s the same for Mom and Wrenott.”

Q, who is currently a frog and peeking out of the breast pocket of Alex’s t-shirt, says something that Kara can’t hear.

She frowns. There’s a pod of dolphins around three miles off the coast that she can pick out just fine, but Alex’s daemon manages to sneak something past her newly sensitive ears from only a foot or so away. She tries to hear his heartbeat and finds that she can’t—just Alex’s and her own, and Jeremiah’s downstairs.

“But we need to figure something out,” Alex begrudgingly agrees.

Q wiggles his way out of Alex’s pocket and transforms into a sparrow right before gravity takes him down. He flits around the room, Kara’s eyes tracking him despite Alex’s warning.

“Q has an idea,” her sister says. “Since he hasn’t settled yet, we can fake it. You like wearing long sleeves better, right?”

Kara shrugs, focusing her attention back on Alex’s severe expression. “The sunlight makes my skin tingle.”

“Right, well, if you wore—I don’t know, a hoodie? Yeah, with the hood pulled up—then Q could sit on your shoulder in English. I’ll be right next door in AP Calc, and you’re young enough to have an unsettled daemon, and everybody knows about me.” She nods jerkily. “Alright, let’s try it out. Just on the edge of your shoulder, over your shirt. Q?”

“Wait,” Kara says.

Alex’s arms are crossed, her shoulders hunched in. Kara opens her mouth, then closes it, not sure what she should say.

“This feels wrong,” is what she settles on. “Are you sure?”

“It was Q’s idea,” Alex says, now chewing on her bottom lip.

“But is it alright with you?” Kara asks.

Q zips right over Kara’s shoulder and shifts into a lemur right before he collides with Alex, wrapping himself around her shoulders, his striped tail curled protectively under her chin. Alex’s posture relaxes with one big exhale.

“We’ll figure something else out,” Kara decides. “I’m supposed to blend in, right? My daemon will just be…shy.” She thinks of Q. “He hides in my pocket.”

The week before Kara finally starts school, she befriends a whip-quick, only slightly mangy cat in the backyard. Streaky follows her everywhere, and loves more than anything to sit on Kara’s shoulders or take a quick nap on top of her thighs. Some days, he comes to school with her, and she focuses on making sure he doesn’t try and brush up against anyone else instead of on the math equations she was doing before she was five revolutions old.

Years. On Earth, they call them years, and they wander around with their souls outside of their bodies.

Kal-El has a rescued African Gray Parrot he calls Jane. Jane never makes a sound, bird-caw or mimicked words, and stays perched on his shoulder whenever he’s his true self.

Whenever he’s Superman, he flies alone.

Lena builds Kieran a special perch with a vacuum seal base that can attach to any flat surface. She brings it with her to class, glares her best Lillian-glare at any classmates who open their mouths to complain.

He’s big, if the looks that linger on him for longer than is polite indicate anything. Lena always bites back remarks like you’re probably thinking of crows—ravens are larger and quite a bit smarter, actually. It’s rude to talk about someone’s daemon, but that never seems to stop people from staring at hers. The one time she hadn’t watched what she said, it had been to the daughter of some business partner of Luthor Corp, and the amount of time they both spent cooped up in Luthor Manor because of it—

Well. Lena bites her tongue, and counts the minutes until class lets out, reading college level calculus textbooks under her desk. All of the athletic girls are on sports teams and are excused from P.E.—Lena never joins the other girls in trying to get out of participating, never feigns cramps or pretends she has a migraine. She never goes faster than a stroll on the track loop either, but she never sits out. Kieran soars over her head, a black smear against perfect blue, and Lena swears she can feel the stretch of his wings in her own shoulders.

“How does it feel to have settled?” Andrea asks one hot Wednesday, walking at Lena’s same glacial pace around the track. Her voice is toeing the line of timidness. About four paces behind them is her daemon, currently in the form of a sleek fox.

“I’m not sure,” Lena answers. “It’s all I remember.”

She’s not sure it’s the truth. She thinks, maybe, there’s a memory of her sitting on the shore of a lake, dust in the wind, Kieran in the form of a golden retriever puppy and splashing in the water. But if she talks about that, then she’ll have to think about how even with fish and dolphins and whales and cephalopods at her disposal, Kieran had shifted to a spiky ball of a hedgehog and trembled in her lap.

Q follows Alex into the cemetery the day of Jeremiah’s funeral in the form of a German Shepherd and never shifts into a different animal again.

Sometimes, Streaky curls up with him on the couch, tucks his dark little head under Q’s chin. For the first time, Kara wishes that she also had part of herself wandering about in the world. She settles for wrapping Alex in carefully gentle hugs, cries with her on the roof outside their bedroom window, and makes sure she never spends too long looking at Q’s adorable dog face.

Sometimes, Wrenott will rub at Q’s cheeks with his little sea otter hands that Kara always tries really hard not to squeal over. Kara watches carefully at the way Alex’s shoulders droop, then stiffen back up again too quickly. Q always jerks away at the same moment. When Alex rushes out of the room, Eliza sighs so deeply Kara’s ears hurt.

“They’re composed of Dust, Lena, I’ve been telling you—it’s like your head is always in the clouds with Kieran.”

Lena’s skin prickles like it does whenever Lex says her daemon’s name. “My head is on this game of chess,” she counters, moving her bishop to d5 and claiming his rook. “Unlike you.”

He huffs. With a movement that’s too forced to be casual, he moves his pawn out of the line of fire of her knight.

The monologues that Lex delivers over games of chess become less tethered to reality each time. Lena usually tries to focus on the chessboard between them, but Lex doesn’t always let her.

“Dust is impermanent by nature. Shifting daemons when we’re young, sure, but not just that. Look at Superman.” He spins his Luthor heirloom signet ring around his pinky finger, his eyes suddenly very far away. “No daemon.”

“That we know of,” Lena points out, moving her own pawn to try and trap his queen.

Lex rolls his eyes. “Okay, that we know of. But we can’t ignore the implications.” He takes her pawn with his bishop, falling right into her trap.

“Implications?” She asks a little too innocently.

Lex is too focused on his lecture to hear it, parroting her pawn movement with one of his own. “We’re not the only species out there, Lee-loo. There’s an expanding universe of potential, and we’re the only ones who have daemons.” He says it like it’s the winning argument of a national debate competition.

Lena moves her own queen, lightning quick, forcing eye contact and tilting her head in confusion. Kieran hides his face by the nape of her neck, chortling softly. “So?” She asks.

“So?” Lex echoes incredulously. “Are you even listening?” He moves his knight to f3. “We’ve been operating under the assumption that daemons are necessary to intelligent life for thousands of years. Clearly, that’s not true. It changes everything, Lena.”

Lena strikes. Her pawn takes his queen with one smooth movement, her fingers curling around ink-black crown on the piece’s head. “Check,” she says. “Checkmate in four.”

Lex opens his mouth, then closes it. He scowls at the board. With a huff, he knocks his king over.

Lena grins at him.

“Don’t be smug,” he says. “It’s why you don’t have any friends at school.”

Kieran tugs at a group of hairs at the base of her neck. “Lex,” Lena says, her smile fading. “Where’s Greza?”

“None of your business.” He gets up and adjusts the sleeves of his sports jacket. “Mother says we’re having dinner as a family tonight. Don’t be late.”

That night, Kieran hops to his perch in the cage without Lena having to utter a coaxing word.

Alex sits with her on the roof in silence. Q rests his face on the windowsill behind them, his dark eyes focused on the stars above just like Kara’s are.

Alex looks at her sister instead of the cosmos. Her fingers tap at her knees as she struggles to find the right words. She wishes that Q could sit on the roof with her, that his paws—now permanently paws—didn’t slip against the shingles.

“He was a good cat,” Alex finally says, more than a little awkwardly, patting Kara on the shoulder. Streaky wasn’t Kara’s daemon, but Alex knows just how much her sister had come to lean on his presence.

Kara only nods in response. Her throat aches—she isn’t sure she’s able to speak.

“Have you thought about…”

“Yeah. Not many mute African Gray Parrots out there.”

“True.”

Kara leans her head against Alex’s shoulder, the pressure of it so light that Alex can barely feel her weight at all.

“What about a snake?” Alex asks. “A little one.”

“I like snakes.”

“You like every animal. And every animal likes you,” Alex adds, only a little bitterly. It’s like her sister’s a Disney princess. “You could carry one around your arm, wear long sleeves on days the snake isn’t into it.”

“I could carry him around in a little fanny pack with a hand warmer,” Kara suggests, sounding perkier than she has in days.

Alex doesn’t bother hiding her smile. “Yeah,” she agrees. “You could carry him around in a fanny pack with a hand warmer.”

It’s only when Lena’s school comes into view at the end of the impossibly long, manicured driveway that Kieran’s stubborn eye contact compels her to speak.

“Mother,” Lena begins quietly.

“Speak up, Lena,” Lillian says, not taking her eyes off of the medical journal in her lap. She’s spent the whole drive like that, just like every drive to and from school. Lena doesn’t know why she bothers to come.

Lena’s hands twist her in her lap. Kieran’s head nudges under them and they relax.

“Something’s wrong with Lex,” she forces herself to say. Then, quieter again, “with Greza.”

Mr. Bates, her mother’s driver, pulls up to the drop off point. The inside of the car stays quiet while he gets out and retrieves Lena’s luggage from the trunk.

“I’ll see you in the spring,” her mother says. She’s looking at her medical journal. “Bring that B+ in Physical Education up to an A.”

“I don’t even know why you bother coming,” Lena spits out, suddenly furious. “It’s not like everyone else’s mom drops them off at the start of term.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lillian says airily. “When else am I going to get two hours of quiet to myself?”

Lena opens the door with the goal of slamming it behind her, but Kieran has a different idea. He stays in Lena’s seat, then hops the tiniest bit closer.

Tantox slithers out to meet him, tongue flickering as he goes. When Kieran tilts his head, Tantox blinks his albino-red eyes in response.

It only lasts a second; Kieran is flying out ahead of her in the next breath. Lillian is frozen, her hands still against the pages in her lap.

“And make some friends,” she says before Lena can shut the door. “Dr. Perth says you could be stunting your own growth.”

Lena glares, then slams the car door shut.

“Is your boss’s daemon still freaking you out?” Alex asks at sister night, stroking Streaky Jr.’s head where he’s curled up in her lap.

“Yes,” Kara sulks. “What’s his problem with my handsome baby sweetie-pie? It’s so insulting. So what if he’s a little shy? He doesn’t have to prowl around us. Stupid panther types.”

“Maybe he’s got some sort of weird daemon radar. It’s Cat Grant. I’d believe it.” She looks over at Q. “What’s the report on Streaks, huh?”

“He’s a snake,” Q says, completely deadpan.

Kara rolls her eyes. “You’re not funny,” she says.

Q puts his head on his paws and looks up at her. Kara points at him. “Enough of that.” She turns to her sister and gestures for her snake. “And enough for you, come on.”

“No,” Alex protests, her pout almost matching her daemon’s. “You just gave him to me, you come on.”

“It’s been seventeen minutes,” Kara says. “Your measly human body temperature isn’t high enough to handle him for more than twenty, it’s not safe.”

Alex hands Streaky Jr. over with a huff. He curls around Kara’s arm immediately, naturally seeking out the extra warmth in her skin.”You’re such a snake hog.”

“Get your own fake daemon.”

“I would, except I know he’d like you better, you weird animal magnet.”

Kara reaches for the little spray bottle she keeps on the coffee table and gives Streaky Jr. a few spritzes. “Stay jealous.”

“If you could tell the court what you saw upon entering Luthor Corp sub basement 3 lab on July 23rd, please, Ms. Luthor.”

Lena leans in a little, to make sure the microphone will pick up everything she says. “I saw my brother and his daemon inside the DIC.” She winces, then clarifies, “the Dust Isolation Chamber.”

“Dust Isolation Chamber,” the prosecutor repeats. “Can you explain what that is to the court, please?”

“One of my brother’s inventions.” Lena’s fingers twitch towards the outsides of her thighs, but she resists the urge to sit on them. “It sends certain wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum through a confined space with the hope of further studying Dust as a scientific phenomenon. It…wasn’t made for people to be inside of it. Or daemons.”

The prosecutor nods. He has perpetually narrowed eyes and an opossum daemon, neither of which really give Lena any sort of ease answering his questions, even though they had prepped for days beforehand. “What form did the defendant’s daemon take, Ms. Luthor?”

“A leopard,” Lena croaks.

The prosecutor turns in a circle, pageantry for the jury and the courtroom, since it’s quite clear that there’s no leopard sitting by Lex. “I don’t see a leopard.”

Lex’s lawyer—Colton, from their family’s usual legal team—stands. “Objection. Argumentative, your honor.”

The judge nods. “Sustained,” she says. To the prosecutor: “ask your question.”

“What happened to your brother’s daemon on July 23rd, Ms. Luthor?”

“He—” Lena clears her throat. Kieran, who has been calmly perched on the side of the witness stand through her testimony, puffs up his feathers a little. “He attempted to sever himself from her. It didn’t really—I’m not sure what his goal was, exactly, but he didn’t manage to do it all the way. If he had, he’d be catatonic.”

Lex, dressed in one of his finest suits and a sharp purple tie, smiles at her from across the room like they’re only playing a game of chess.

“Was this out of character for your brother?”

“No,” Lena admits. “He’s been training himself to be apart from his daemon for years now.”

“Did the time he began that—‘training,’ you said?—did that happen to coincide with the appearance of Superman.”

The smile on Lex’s face disappears.

Lena swallows hard. “Yes,” she says.

“If you could talk,” Kara says to Streaky Jr.’s little face, “would you give me as much sass as Q gives Alex? I don’t think you would.”

Streaky Jr. keeps lapping at the water bowl in his terrarium.

“Would you even be a snake?” She rests her chin on her hands, close enough to the glass that her breath fogs it up a little. “Alex says my daemon would be a bald eagle. Or a naked mole rat.” She wrinkles her nose. “It depends on how recently I’ve ignored her advice in the field.”

Streaky Jr. blinks slowly at her. His body curls together a little more.

“But I don’t think you’d be a bird. Maybe you’d be a h’raka. Or a rondor. A zuurt, even.”

Streaky Jr. leaves his water dish behind, retreating into his cave in the corner.

“Yeah,” Kara whispers. “Probably not.”

“Stop picking at it,” Lena says absent-mindedly, mostly focusing on the email she’s writing about that quarter’s budget reports.

“It itches,” Kieran complains. It’s his first molt since they came to National City, and it seems to be taking all summer. It always leaves them both irritable.

“I’ll take a look later,” she promises, “but not while we’re at work.”

The intercom on her office phone buzzes. Kieran falls quiet; Lena reaches out and hits the button.

“I have Dr. Ketterman up from R&D, Miss Luthor,” Jess says.

Kieran flies from his perch on top of the bookcase to come land on her shoulder. He settles there, nuzzles his head down by the nape of her neck, as though that makes the big black bulk of him out of sight.

“Send him in,” Lena tells Jess.

What Lena first sees when Kara Danvers sits down for their interview is her smile, her eyes, the kind curiosity that bursts both.

The second thing she sees is the small red head of a snake peeking out from her collar before disappearing again. Only a few moments later, that same head appears at the cuff of her sleeve, slithering right into the open fanny pack around her waist. Lena is so befuddled that the tension that had bunched up her muscles at the sight of him begins to dissipate.

“He’s shy,” Kara says when she catches Lena staring, her face pink. “Um, he likes to—I keep a hand warmer wrapped in cloth in there? He prefers it to, um, having to—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupts gently, the tension in her shoulders entirely gone. “I get it.”

Kieran is sitting out on the balcony, doing his best to fit in with a group of pigeons instead of standing somewhere Kara could look directly at him. Lena can’t exactly start throwing stones from within her very glass house.

Probably sensing the way Lena is thinking about him, Kieran flies in from the balcony, through the window that Lena keeps open for him. It’s a lot easier than it was in Metropolis, when Lena had to bundle up in her office all throughout the winter.

“He’s beautiful,” Kara breathes out. She blinks rapidly once she does, her face going pink again, this time even worse than before. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“So is he,” Lena says, her eyes flicking to Kara’s fanny pack, now nearly overflowing with red scales.

“He’s a corn snake,” Kara says a little too quickly. “Um. Did you know that while the general collective noun for snakes is den, some snake species have their own? Like, it’s a generation of vipers. Or a rhumba of rattlesnakes.”

“Is that so?” Lena asks, too befuddled to say anything else.

“Is it ravens that have the collective noun of murder?” Kara asks. “Or is that crows?”

“Crows,” Lena says, more confident with a question she knows the answer to. “It’s an unkindness of ravens, technically.” She shrugs. “Most people just use flock.”

“That’s not right,” Kara says in that gentle way she has, the one that makes Lena feel like her chest is one touch away from shattering. “Your daemon isn’t unkind.”

Lena’s lip quirks into something similar to a smile. “That’s because we’re alone,” she says.

Kara opens her mouth like she wants to say something else that will be psychologically damaging to Lena’s afternoon. Lena jumps in before she gets the chance.

“So, where would you like to begin? L-Corp’s rebrand?”

Kara deflates slightly, but nods. She reaches for her notepad, flicks to an open page, and looks up with those big blue eyes her glasses don’t do a good job of hiding. “Yeah, that’s—that’s a great place to start. When did you decide on a full rebrand along with the relocation?”

Kieran loops languidly around the sky above her balcony, a blur of ink against the royal blue of the early evening. Supergirl stands next to her, watching him. It makes Lena feel far too exposed, but given the way Supergirl’s made a habit of saving her life from the very start of their relationship, she tries not to be too offended. After all, dealing with daemon manners when you don’t have a daemon can’t be easy.

“You look like you’ve hardly ever seen one before,” Lena finally observes.

Supergirl shoots her a tiny smile. “Maybe he’s just particularly striking.” Her fingers tap against the railing. “When my parents sent me here, they told me of your daemons,” she adds. “They didn’t have much time, but…my mother, she called them your nahv-shesur.”

“And what does that translate to?” Lena asked, curious how anyone who did not know the touch of their own daemon could try to define it.

Supergirl’s head tilts to the side as she considers that. “Made up of your soul,” she finally says, “but on Krypton we had two ways of saying that. My mother used the conceptual version instead of the spacial one. I still don’t know if she knew daemons were tangible.”

Lena shudders at the thought, and Kieran swoops down in response, perching himself on her shoulder.

“Not tangible,” Supergirl rushes to correct herself. “Of course, I don’t mean—well, you know what I mean, don’t you? They’re real.” She rubs a frustrated hand across her forehead. “I never manage to say it right when I talk about them. Even after all this time, they’re still foreign to me.”

Kieran nips at the top of Lena’s ear. He’s always quiet when there’s company, but they developed their own silent language well before Lena’s tenth birthday. Reassure her, he’s saying. Now. What’s taking so long?

“Daemons aren’t foreign to you,” Lena finds herself saying.

Supergirl blinks. “What?”

“Just because you can’t see your daemon, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Lena says. “Did you have Dust on Krypton?”

With a movement so fast Lena’s eyes can’t catch it, Supergirl looks away, leaving Lena only able to see the curve of her jaw and cheek. When she speaks, her voice is rough. “Yes,” she says. “Khir.”

“Your khir,” Lena says, hopefully with an only slightly terrible accent, “could you see it?”

“Under the right circumstances.”

There’s a creaking noise, and when Lena looks down to try and locate it, she sees Supergirl’s hands move from the railing to reveal imprints of her grip.

“Sorry,” she says. “We could see Khir under certain light spectrums. Especially in low orbit, when Rao’s Light came through the atmosphere and—sorry, I’m getting carried away.” She laughs a wet little sound and then clears her throat. When she faces Lena again, her eyes are rimmed with red.

“Did you ever see it?” Lena asks.

Supergirl’s eyelids slip closed. “It was the last thing I saw,” she whispers. “Khir rising up to meet Rao in the atmosphere. While Krypton still had an atmosphere.”

Kieran’s claws maul Lena’s shoulder until she reaches out and puts a hand on top of Supergirl’s.

“There’s Dust everywhere,” Lena tells her, then repeats: “Just because you can’t see your daemon, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

#my writing #idk what to tag this!!#dc daemons #with some luthor family insane dynamics thrown in bc slay #ive decided to care less abt what i put out onto the internet so have fun kids

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danses-with-dogmeat · 6 months

Text

Day 22 -- Harold/Bob

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 22 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Exhibitionism with Harold/Bob x F!Reader

I...

This... This needed to be like 5k words longer but I didn't have time for that so here's a snippet of a much larger idea than was meant for kinktober

Anyway though, Harold is a lovely, lovely man who made me feel so many sad things when I played FO3 as a kid. Ugh, he's SUCH a great character. Aaaaand... kinda challenging to write for, idea-wise 😅 ngl, but hopefully y'all love this one!

Maybe when I have spare time one day (😂😭) I'll return and add some more to this!

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Exhibitionism (kinda sorta), kissing, confessions, fantasies, forbidden love, trees, wood, um... dry humping, self actualization. TW for suicidal thoughts!

Words: 3.8k

*note: Lone and Branchtender Cypress are the same person*

The newest branchtender had never been shy.

Once you became privy to the freedoms that such a place as this could offer you, when you saw the green, when you met the one… Harold, his brilliance, his sacrifice, when you saw the legacy he would leave in his wake… How could you ever have left?

You weren't coy about your feelings of appreciation for the Oasis deity, nor your want to help, and you certainly didn't shy away from ruffling some feathers, as it were.

It was among the many numerous things that he truly appreciated about you in return.

Harold’s eyes couldn’t shift too far from their allotted position, nestled frustratingly in Bob’s trunk as they were, but you always managed to make him wish– more zealously than usual– that he could move of his own accord. That he could… maybe, just sort of… touch you?

Yes, he’d like that very much.

It’d been years since Harold felt another person, since someone reached out to touch him in earnest. Even Bob hadn’t felt the prod of a hand recently, since the rules had changed, since the people had caught wind of Harold's more recent… thoughts.

Maybe I wouldn’t want to be gone if there were more who treated me like you do.

Like a person.

He remembered distinctly the first time the two of you met, when you’d told him why you wanted to become a branchtender, when you had to convince him to let you into Oasis permanently. It hadn’t taken much, no, because when you reached out and shook his branch like it was his hand, when you looked him in the eye and smiled your broad smile, it brought back memories of genuine personhood that he hadn't felt since... what, a hundred years or so ago? Even when your touch lingered for a moment, even when Tree Father Birch had told you not to, when Harold knew how the others feared to touch him, that they might hinder his spread, or expand it– depending on who you asked-- even through all of that uncertainty, you'd only pulled away when Harold had said it was alright.

You held no such notions as the others, no such fear, apparently. Especially not now.

Harold knew you weren’t popular among the Treeminders, the Branchtenders, even the Bloomseer wished not to permit you in Harold’s grove. But he favored you, that much was clear to everyone in Oasis.

“I can speak to the others…” You told him, sitting on the root structure that was once his arm, gazing upon his face without flinching.

You never flinched away from his visage, nor did you altogether refuse to look upon his face, as a few of the Oasis-goers had decided was respectful.

To him it was… How could it not be dehumanizing?

“Maybe get them to lighten up. To see you like I do, Harold. Then you wouldn’t be alone in here so often, maybe they could even… I don’t know, touch you? L-like I did that first time, you know?”

Harold hummed, his eyes downcast.

“I have you.” He said, quietly. Undecided if he wanted to say it aloud at all, but sometimes Bob shoved the thoughts right out so they wouldn't take up space.

At least, he thought it was Bob doing that.

“Yes.” You said, and your hand rubbed over a knot in his bark– Bob’s bark. “But am I enough? I can’t… Harold, I can’t be all that’s making you want to, well, you know… Stay here.”

“But you are. Now.”

He saw your lip give a small tremble, before you hid it with a grin. Your eyes though… they still held that sadness.

“That’s sweet, but it's not healthy, Harold. There needs to be more.”

He made a pouty sound at that.

Says who?

It was nice to have even one thing to stick around here for. Couldn’t you see that? That you already did the impossible?

“I want to know something.” Your soft voice prompted him, just as one small hand reached to brush over the bark that was once his cheek. You had to strain your arm to do it, had to sit all the way up, but oh, how he wished with everything he had that he could lean into it, feel beyond what Bob allowed him to of your soft hand.

“Hm?”

“Tree Father and Tree Mother, they both have these ideas of what we should do with you, how we should... use you and Bob’s resources to either change the wasteland or to keep you and us safe and secret.”

He tried nodding in understanding, but all he could manipulate were his eyes.

It didn't have the same effect, he feared.

“Well…" You continued, "They keep talking about what to do with you, like you’re… a resource and not a person.”

“I know.”

“Well, frankly, that’s shitty.”

He rumbled out a laugh, feeling Bob’s topmost branches tremble slightly with the action.

“Harold.” You said his name so sweetly, softly, like friends speak to each other, like… Like he imagined he’d want to speak to the people he loved. If he’d ever had those.

It was hard to remember.

“Hon, what do you want?” Your hand was still firmly on his cheek. He could feel heat permeating the layer of bark there. “I know you sort of told me the day we met, but… It seems like that’s– maybe, that’s changed?”

“Yes.” He said, with a decisiveness he didn’t intend, but was there all the same. “It has changed. Now… The others, they can do what they please with me and Bob.”

“But–” You tried, pulling your hand away like he’d prodded you with a thorn.

“I want you.” He finished, that decisiveness never wavering, though… despite the certainty, it did surprise him.

Never… confessed anything like this before. Not to anyone.

That… well, that I can remember.

Your expression stayed soft, safe, non judgmental, non accusatory, as your eyes darted back and forth, ensuring there was truth in both of his before speaking your response.

“Harold… You’re not just saying this… Well, because I’m the only one who speaks to you like this, right? I don’t want this– these feelings you’re telling me you have, to just come from my being nice to you. That’s not fair either.”

You held eye contact with him all the while, genuine sympathy and curiosity shining there.

How could you think his feelings were just… by default?

To him, anyway, it was obvious.

Other Treeminders, branchtenders, had loved him before, been kind to him, revered him, even. But always because of Bob. What Bob allowed him to become, and maybe… maybe that’s what had drawn you to him at first as well, but now… It was Harold you stayed for, wasn’t it?

With the way you spoke his name, looked into his eyes, asked him about his wants, his needs… how could it not be him?

“Weeks.” He said, and you cocked your head slightly.

He couldn’t help his hard-to-read grin.

“We’ve been talking all that time. You’re interesting, kind, see me as human, yes. But more.”

“More?” You urged him, and Harold couldn’t dream of denying you.

“See me as a human you can connect to. We talk about many things, and all of them are interesting, so many things we have in common. Even with our… differences.”

A small smile glowed in your eyes , and softened your expression further. Harold’s gaze never wavered, though you knew the words left him with effort, both physical and emotional.

“I want you so I may talk with you, to have your company.”

“You will.” You answered so hastily, even tilting forward from where you sat in the curve of what used to be his right arm, almost toppling out of it.

He tried to catch you, but Bob held firm to his limbs. As he always did.

With you, he could almost forget.

“You will, Harold.” You saved yourself from falling, bracing your arm against the main section of his trunk. “I’m not going anywhere, I… I love talking to you, too.”

Maybe to save face from falling off of him, or maybe because you just wanted to, you wrapped your hands around his trunk– Bob’s– and hugged him, just beneath his face.

Bark creaked and branches rustled as Harold made an effort to reach back, to drop his chin to rest on your shoulder, to bring one arm around your body, to lean into your touch, but Bob halted him.

Harold felt he could scream at the opposition, but… he couldn’t startle you with his frustrations. Instead, he sat in silence, savoring what he could of your touch, relishing in the mere thought that you were doing this at all. Sharing your warmth with him, making the effort to show how you cared, disobeying everything his other keepers in Oasis would have told you just to show him you wanted to feel him against you.

“Wish that I could return this favor.” He said, instead of crying out his frustrations with Bob to you. Like you hadn’t heard that complaint a thousand times already.

“Hmm?” You asked without removing yourself.

“Wish, Lone, that I could… touch you.”

“Bob won’t let you, huh?” Now you pulled back, just enough so he could look upon your face.

“Afraid not. He… I’m constrained by him. No matter how I try.”

“Well… um, can I…?”

Harold blinked as you trailed off suggestively. If it were possible, his mouth would be running dry right about then.

“Can I talk to Bob?” You finished, and a somber sort of relief washed over him.

Harold couldn’t answer you at first. His brows furrowed, and in his mind, he tried to reach out, to find anything but the pulsing wordless communications that Bob always released, directed to him, and to the other trees and saplings that acted as his spawn all throughout Oasis.

Their conversations were mildly distracting, especially when Harold was alone and silent in the grove, but now, with you here, the bound man had to strain to make out their strange, slow voices.

“Not in a way that will get through to him.” Harold finally answered you, after Bob ignored his mental prodding for the umpteenth time since they were joined.

“Alright, well… Can I then…” You ended with a distinct clear of your throat. Your body against Bob’s bark; even down to Harold’s core, he could feel the way your heart picked up, the way you flushed with heat against him.

“Yes?”

“I could touch you, if you want? You know… enough for both of us.”

If his eyes were wide before, now they were akin to twin moons as his mouth hung agape and he appeared to short-circuit.

“H-Harold?”

“Lone… You… want this, too?”

When you nodded, he could swear that his heart damn-near stopped.

How ironic that would have been.

With a distinct swallow, you nodded to him. Your eyes couldn’t meet his then, either. To see you embarrassed… about anything, it was more than strange.

Harold thought you were the freest of them all, the most outward with your thoughts, your true self, and now… to know the one viable secret he knew you were keeping was potential feelings for him?

“I was afraid to tell you.” You said quietly, “Afraid what you might think, or say, and the others, well…” You trailed off with a lovely chuckle, and Harold’s gruff timbre of a laugh followed.

“The others don’t matter. They only care for Bob, what he can do for them. For all the wasteland. Harold is just… an afterthought.”

“Well, you’re not to me.”

You released your hold on him as you spoke, turning to grasp his rooted arm with your soft hands, before hauling yourself back up onto that perch. Harold, not for the first, nor the last, time this evening, wished he could break one of his hands away from Bob’s grasp to reach out to you, to help balance you, as you wavered in your place on him.

You stood on his limb now, level with his strange face, and pondered it.

He felt you could see right through him. Not just through Bob and into Harold’s human shell, but into him. See his soul, even.

He didn’t know what exactly you were looking for, but you stood for a long moment, just… running your eyes over him, like he was something you could read. Just… observing.

Truth seeking. Something in his mind offered, and if he could’ve, Harold would’ve nodded his agreement to himself.

“I want to kiss you.” You said decidedly, and Harold tried to recoil. Still, even with your words, your hands on him, your embrace… The thought was something so inconceivable for him, so… splendorous, that it felt like a dream.

Perhaps you did kill me, and this is just the eternal dream.

If that’s the case, waking would be more torture than getting bound to Bob all over again.

“Alright.” Was all he could manage, in his shock, and the grin you answered with set his chest ablaze with affection.

You leaned forward, bracing a hand on either side of his face, your fingers catching at the knobby protrusions– also courtesy of Bob– that made up some semblance of cheekbones. His eyes followed your lips as they pursed in preparation, and he found himself wishing– more so than for anything else he’d ever imagined– that he could move, that Bob would allow him this one small favor for dragging him all across the wasteland, for letting him tie Harold to this place for eternity, just once could he move of his accord again?

Just for this.

Your lips pressed to his mouth, to the grotesque, always-open marionette of what used to be his proper face, his proper lips, and yet…

There was no crude pull-away, no startled mumble against him, not even the slightest flinch as you pressed forward and sighed.

That sound rattled through him, like the sap seeping through his veins, it poured life into him.

“Lone…” Harold whispered to you so softly, his voice reminded him of before.

Before Bob, before he was a ghoul, even. A before that was famously long ago.

You still didn’t relent, moving that delectable mouth over his, tasting him, drawing out this euphoric feeling that had him believing he still was human. He wished he could taste you, know what it was like to be so close, to feel your breaths wash over his tongue, to clack his teeth against yours until you both pulled back in a fit of laughter, where he wished he could then wrap both arms around you.

Harold wanted to roll to the grassy earth with you in his embrace, out of breath from your shared mirth as you both drew back in for another taste. He would run his mouth over the seam of your own, and you would boldly answer his call. With you still nestled in his grasp, he would move his way down your body, exploring, feeling. No patch of skin, no freckle, no scar would escape his scrutiny.

He had so much time. This? It could last an eternity and not feel like even a blink to him after all that Bob put him through. He would use every second of it to see you, to smooth his hands over you, feel your heartbeat below your skin, feel the sweat form there, see the passion growing in your eyes.

He’d take you, there, in the grass.

Harold didn’t take much of anything, not ever in his life. He’s been somewhat of a pushover for most of it– Bob clearly had exploited that fact.

But he would take you.

You lent him your boldness, your unapologetic passion, your zest for all that life had to offer; your acceptance of him… he could borrow that, too, for tonight.

He would pull you into his lap on that sweet, quiet patch of grass, hear you moan out his name as you felt his hardness beneath you. Those stringy clothes you wore, that already failed to conceal all that much, he’d pull them apart and bare you to him until there was nothing left for him to uncover.

Your taste there, too, between your legs… He’d spend half an eternity just there, pulling your honey past his wanton lips until his chin dripped and he was drunk on nothing but you. And if he didn’t die there, between your divine thighs, then he would use every last living breath he had to worship the rest of you.

Then he could be happy in this life of his, no matter how long he was stuck here for.

It was with that thought that Harold returned to himself.

Your lips dragged over him, and he could so nearly taste your breath, he could feel the warmth of your hands–close as they were to his eyes.

“H-Harold.” You pulled back, and his eyes blinked open to admire you.

You were out of breath, your eyes glossy and… blown wider than he’d ever seen them.

“You taste… like nothing I’ve ever–”

“What is this heresy?”

You froze where you leaned against Harold, as Tree Father Birch’s voice rang clear through the grove.

“I knew this was wrong, I knew you were plotting something, Branchtender Cypress, and this…” A disgusted throaty sound finished the sentence for him, and Harold felt something stir in him. Deep in his roots, not even Bob’s, but Harold’s roots… they boiled.

“Away from Him." The Tree Father ordered, "Now, Cypress. Away from the grove and seek out Bloom–”

“No.” Harold’s voice growled, and he felt the ground shake from the lowness of it.

Your hands gripped at him tighter.

“W-what– but, but your highest–”

“He wants you to go. Father.” You spat the words out, relishing in the way it made Birch's face glow red to hear you command him on his god’s behalf.

“B-but… No. That cannot be. I am the Tree Father, I speak for what is best for–”

“Lone is what’s best for Harold." He grumbled out, like the sound of groaning wood about to be severed. "What’s best for Harold is also best for Bob.”

Tree Father Birch shook his head, his brows creased, despondent, like he was losing a loved one before his very eyes.

“No, no, no. This cannot be.” He started forward, moving with intent towards the pair.

Harold’s eyes darted to your face, the way your expression was curled in a defensive snarl. He wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but Harold felt his own features held that same malice right about now.

“She has manipulated you, your greatness. Cypress wishes to have control for herself, she came to Oasis just for that! On a whim, she decided to join us, only after seeing you. Is this a coincidence? Does she want you to sustain your people, like I do, or will she take what she can before throwing us all into the fire?”

A growl was forming low in Harold’s trunk. The topmost branches began to shake, just as the ground groaned in protest to the tree’s movement– small as it might be on the outside, it shook the very foundations of the grove.

“It’s what the Bloomseer saw. When she looked at your fate, the day that Cypress arrived here, she saw flames and anguish and death where Oasis once stood.”

"You’re an imbecile.” You piped up, with the full intent to continue with an explanation, but it was too late. He was close enough to you now that, when your words pushed the Tree Father over the edge, he could reach you.

Birch lunged forward, his gnarled hand met your ankle, and he pulled hard against it, until you toppled, falling in between Harold’s trunk and his rooted arm. Through his and Bob’s connection, Harold felt the way bits of your skin tore against his bark, he heard your pained sounds, and his eyes glowed red and angry as hot coals.

“Enough!” He bellowed until the grove’s voices went silent, the grassy ground ceased its whispers, the trees paused their conversations, Bob stood at attention, and Birch…

Harold didn’t know how it happened, couldn’t have said quite when, but his hand… His hand. Harold’s left hand was wrapped around the Tree Father’s throat.

The man’s eyes were nearly bulging from his head from the force, and Harold released him just as suddenly.

He paid no more mind to the Tree Father as he slid to the floor. Harold could only do as he had dreamt of, do as he’d wished, do what he thought would be impossible all night and every night before or since you met, since he and Bob became fused to this spot.

He reached out for you.

“Lone?” the bark above his eyes seemed to crease with worry, as he noted the scrapes on your soft skin.

“Harold, how did you…?” Your voice was a squeak, partly from pain, and partly from the disbelief that strained your throat. “Hon, you moved. You're moving now, it’s… this is incredible!”

You sprung up as he helped you, crashing your body to his in a hug that he returned.

If it were possible, Harold knew he would’ve wept at the way he could hold you now.

“Lone, are you alright?”

“Better.” You smiled at him, that glowing smile that held the stars, and Harold couldn’t help himself.

This new discovery of his, who knew how fleeting it would be? While he had it, he was going to take advantage of it.

He scooped you up into his hold, easing you close to his face again, and pulled you near enough to kiss.

It would’ve been a fool’s hope, he knew, to wish to move his face, his mouth, more than he already could, but he wished for that too, nonetheless.

What's the harm in wishing, really?

Your hands went back to his face, and in the peace of the night, in the stillness, he could feel your breath, hear your soft sighs, he could even… could he taste you? Cool spring water and edible flowers, the juice of a mutfruit, and… a tinge of him, of Bob, that brash oakiness and sweet syrup.

To taste a bit of his likeness on you was a pleasure Harold wouldn’t soon forget.

A gasp released from the both of you, as your hips began to… move. Harold had seen this likeness before, in dances, in strange rituals, in… perhaps in another life, but to feel you on him, your heat grinding into his large, bark-gloved hand as your lips stayed locked to his, it lit that boiling feeling in his belly until he feared he really would go up in flames.

Harold blinked open his eyes, slowly, reluctantly, to plead with you to carry on, to ask what you wanted from him, to beg to give it to you, anything and everything he was, he’d give to you, because without you, well… You both already knew where he’d be.

Then his gaze caught the undesirable stirring of the man on the ground at his feet–roots.

Birch was groaning, still only half conscious from the force that’d been on his windpipe, but his eyes were slowly blinking open.

“Harold.” You pulled his attention back easily. “Don’t even look at him, okay? Birch doesn’t matter. All those people out there, who treat you like nothing more than an extension of Bob? They don’t matter either, okay?”

The grip of his hand tightened over your backside, keeping you pressed firmly to his front.

“It’s just you and me now.”

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout npc #fallout 3 npcs #fallout 3 companions #fo3 #harold fo3 #bob fo3 #harold/bob fo3 #fallout harold #fallout harold/bob #lone wanderer #f!lone #dwd.nsfw #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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