#late but this moment made me go wild i Had to try to capture that cornered-dog feeling

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Love Conquers All

Zuko x Male Reader

Word Count: 1856

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Y/n could understand where Zuko was coming from, but he knew he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't go as well as he had perhaps envisioned.

It was all very well and good that he had finally found his way, but he had hurt the Avatars group a fair bit before finding his way. Y/n also knew that as someone who had been a part of Zuko's attempts to hurt them, he had no leg to stand on in helping smooth the situation over. He hadn't been as single-minded in his focus on capturing the Avatar, but he had only cared because Zuko cared.

He didn't think that would matter to them, but then, Y/n didn't particularly care one way or the other how they felt about him. The only person who mattered to him was Zuko. Well, and Iroh, but that was a given of anyone who had met the calm old man.

When they made it to the kids campsite Y/n hung back, staying by the exit. It wasn't that he didn't trust them not to ambush him and Zuko, oh wait, it was that. Never mind.

Y/n watched the exchange carefully. He could feel it in the air mere seconds before she struck.

Faster than their eyes could follow, Y/n moved. By the time that everyone had caught up with the events, Y/n was standing in front of Zuko, sheathing his sword after having deflected Katara's water whip.

Silence reigned for a single heartbeat. Then Katara shrieked in outrage.

"How dare you!"

Y/n was sure she was still speaking, but he had a habit of being selectively deaf when it most benefited him.

And then, with almost no warning she was throwing water at him with increasingly wild movements.

It was no match for Y/n's technique.

It wasn't common knowledge, in fact, he had hidden it for most of his life, but Y/n was an airbender.

Yeah, literally the biggest lie in their world was that there were no more airbenders. The Air Nomads had had the practice of removing non-benders from their society and giving them to the other kingdoms.

What they didn't know was that all it took was for the right circumstances to happen and suddenly you had airbenders in the descendants of those non-benders.

It didn't change much ultimately, they were so few that they wouldn't ever be considered a threat to anyone, not that the Air Nomads had been when the Fire Nation had attacked them a hundred years ago.

What it all came down to, was a confused child suddenly developing powers that no one was able to control anymore.

Luckily for Y/n, the only person who had been around the first time he had bended was Zuko. As secrets tend to do, it had bound the two closer together than anyone would have thought ever since that day.

It was a loyalty that had seen Y/n stowing away on the ship Zuko had been banished on, and one that had been returned by Zuko had never once considered that the apparently Fire Nation child could be the reborn Avatar.

What it came down to, was that Katara was having no luck besting Y/n. Much as he wanted to put her in her place properly, Y/n knew that what they were trying to accomplish here would be hurt by that. From the looks of things though, they might have lost that chance.

Y/n stayed on the defensive, letting her tire herself out instead of outright attacking. He was worried about the look the Avatar was giving him though. That wide eyed expression couldn't mean anything good for his secret. He had always known that it would come out eventually, but he had hoped it would last longer than this dammit!

"Katara stop!"

The kid was trying to get in between then now, but the water tribe girl was apparently past the point of caring. She was just not backing down.

"Wait, I wanna talk to him!"

"No! They need to get out of here and never come back!"

Y/n was sure that her words might have been more intimidating if she weren't so clearly out of her league. He decided to ignore the voice in the back of his head that whispered that if he had used even half of his abilities properly before this they might have caught the Avatar long ago.

The element of surprise couldn't be taken for granted after all, and judging from the kid's reaction just now, all they would have had to do was show him Y/n's powers and he probably would have stayed on the ship that first day.

Y/n pulled himself out of his thoughts with a shrug. It was a bit late for that right now.

The Avatar had managed to get between Y/n and Katara, and seemed to be trying to talk her down from her rage. Y/n watched, only mildly interested. This wasn't how he had thought today would go.

He turned to Zuko, who was still standing behind him.

"Are you okay?"

He just looked Y/n over, head to toe looking for injuries.

"I'm fine, but are you sure it was a good idea to show them that? I could have taken a few hits. I've had worse before, you know that."

Y/n clenched his jaw at the reminder.

"I know. I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you willingly putting yourself in danger though. You didn't even try to defend yourself. Don't think I didn't spot that."

Y/n leveled a flat stare at Zuko.

He at least had the good grace to blush in shame and hide behind his fringe.

Y/n turned back to the group of kids gathered in front of them.

He gave them his best blank stare. He had nothing more to say to them, this was about Zuko teaching the Avatar firebending after all.

Besides, he was sure that anything he said would be twisted around and spat back at him by the water tribe girl.

"You're an airbender!"

Y/n refused to give up his secret that easily.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The little blind girl perked up.

"You're lying. You are an airbender? I thought they were all wiped out."

Y/n stubbornly refused to respond. He could see the water tribe girl's eye narrow at his silence. She was just about to explode on him again when Y/n felt a shift in the air. Less than a second later he felt Zuko's hand on his shoulder.

He slumped slightly. Damn Zuko's soft heart.

"Yes. I can bend air."

The shout of pure joy that the Avatar let out was enough to make Y/n feel slightly guilty about keeping it from him the whole time he had been after him.

"I'm not alone! There must be more, right? Some of the monks survived and hid right? Please tell me!"

Man, this kid was excitable, and as happy as he was, Y/n didn't want to be the one to tell him that he was wrong. He couldn't take the soft option of letting Zuko tell him though, they would probably turn on the both of them and Zuko wouldn't be able to fulfill his destiny.

"No."

"No you're not going to tell him?"

That girl was really starting to get on Y/n's nerves.

"No, they didn't survive."

That shut her up.

It also made the kid tear up, but there was no point building a lie just to make him feel better in this moment. That would be more cruel than the truth.

"The only reason that I exist right now is because of your ancestors though. Your people had a practice of testing their babies for airbending potential."

The Avatar was nodding along. Good, this wouldn't be a surprise to him.

"Well, when they showed to be non-benders your people gave them away. They were sent off to the other kingdoms, not welcome in, nor considered to be, a part of the Air Nomads."

"Air Nomads are airbenders, so if they aren't airbenders they aren't Air Nomads. That's just the way things are."

Y/n grit his teeth. It was an old hurt, but it still stung. He pulled in a deep breath and the only thing that stopped him from screaming about the injustice of it all was Zuko's hand that was still on his shoulder lending him the strength to continue.

"Your people were wrong. Occasionally their methods would be wrong, and they would let a bender slip away into another kingdom. But more than that, its in our blood, in the thing that makes us who we are. When enough of your ancestors were born from the Air Nomads, no matter whether they could bend themselves or not, you have the possibility to end up as a bender."

The Avatar's jaw was hanging open as he stared in horror at Y/n.

"But, they couldn't possibly have known that! If they had, maybe they wouldn't have done what they did."

Y/n's eyes shone with a dark light. This was something he would ultimately have to give up, but it was worth planting the seed if he could.

"So your saying that the only possible use non-benders have is the possibility of benders being born from them?"

The Avatar stopped cold and stared at Y/n in horror.

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then what? You had no problem with the idea that they would be thrown away like yesterday's garbage up until now. The only thing that's changed is this piece of information."

Y/n pulled back as he saw the tears form in the Avatar's eyes.

"Think on that for a while. You have a non-bender in your group. Do you consider him to be useless?"

The kids all looked like they had been hit over the head.

Y/n was sure that this would be the end of their interaction for the day.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Maybe then we can talk without resorting to violence."

He turned back to Katara who looked like she was getting ready to unleash whatever thoughts had been happening in that head of hers.

"Before you put your foot in it, consider this. We have two things you want. One you desperately need, the other, something you desperately want. Have a good night."

Zuko turned and walked back the way they had come, with Y/n bringing up the rear. He didn't trust them not to attack them from behind.

Y/n hoped that with the reminder that they needed Zuko to teach the Avatar firebending, they would be more open to meeting the next day. If that weren't enough, then there was the added bonus of Y/n being the only other airbender that they knew. He was sure that the Avatar wouldn't be able to resist the pull to be around someone who was like him for long.

Either way, they still had a long way to go to convince them that they didn't want to hurt them and that this wasn't a trap.

'Oh well,' Y/n thought as he lay sleepily beside their fire, 'things always look better in the morning.'

#Zuko x Male Reader #Atla #avatar the last airbender #male reader

[iamthemain-character]

Hello! If you're not busy, may I request an over-protective Paul Atreides x female reader? In which Paul and reader are best friends and treat each other like they're siblings. Like reader got adopted by the Atreides because she somehow saved Paul's life when they were young and reader was an orphan. Now, there's an event and reader attracts some attention. She doesn't like it and Paul comes to the rescue. Thank you!

hello! thank you for requesting this, I absolutely love DUNE and i always enjoy writing for it. i hope this was to your liking! :)

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

best friend!paul atreides x sibling!reader

she/her pronouns

TW: just a near death experience, nothing super crazy tho. also some dude being creepy towards reader

yes the title is another taylor swift reference i’m not sorry

To live on Caladan is to know the Atreides name; even a poor orphan girl knew who they were and what they did for the planet. And while most of the Caladan civilization would never actually come face to face with the Atreides, the planet thrived under their rule. The rumors were that they were good and just people, who genuinely cared about those who served them. Even those who went their entire lives without ever actually seeing an Atreides honored and respected them.

But the Atreides family was far from Y/n’s mind as she snuck into the Orchard late one night. A terrible sickness had taken her father and mother, and she refused to be sent to a children’s home, so she ran away. During the day it hadn’t been so bad, but now it was cold and dark and wet, and Y/n was very hungry. The local orchard was full of brilliant fruits, and so Y/n reasoned that no one would notice if a few went missing.

So in the shadows of the night, the young girl quickly slipped through the fencing into the Orchard. She dragged the lightest ladder she could find over to a tree and started to climb. She had just gotten to the top and almost had her hand around the first fruit when suddenly a scream broke through the air.

Y/n stopped where she was, terrified of what the noise was and waiting to see if she got caught. Nothing but wind filled the air, and so she collected a few more fruits and then quickly clambered down the ladder again. She went to run back to the fence, but a cry reached her ears.

“Help! Help me please! Help!”

The voice sounded strained and desperate, but Y/n feared the consequences if she got caught with stolen fruit. For a moment she paused, a battle going on within her; however, at the sound of the urgent plea being repeated, she made up her mind and ran towards it.

“I’m coming! Keep talking, I’m coming!” Y/n yelled as loud as she could, hoping the voice could hear her.

“Hello?! I’m here, I’m stuck! Please help!”

Suddenly Y/n saw it; all around the orchard there were deep pits dug to capture wild animals that would try to steal the fruit. These holes were covered by long, dried grasses that would provide as a cover to lure the animals in. These pits were dug very deep, so that a fall would instantly kill.

Y/n saw the nearby pit’s grasses were broken and missing, and so she rushed to the edge. Kneeling down, she looked over; there, clinging to an overgrown root, was a young boy. Suddenly he looked up and saw Y/n, tears shining in his eyes.

“Oh, please help me! I can’t hold on much longer!”

Y/n laid down flat against the ground and got as close to the edge as she dared. She reached out her arm as far as it would go to the boy. “Here, grab on, I’ll pull you out!”

Wildly the boy looked around, terrified to let go. “I can’t, I fall!”

“Just give me one hand, I’ve got you!”

Taking a shaky breath, the boy reached up; his fingers just brushed against Y/n’s hand, so he pushed against the wall with his foot to give him leverage. Just before he could fall, Y/n clasped both of her hands on his hand and held on for dear life. She tugged and she pulled, and as he dug his feet into the wall, together both Y/n and the boy got him out of the pit.

They collapsed on the grass together, exhausted from the exertion.

“What were you doing out here so late?”

The young boy looked over to Y/n before bash fully looking down. “My father said this was our orchard, and I wanted to see it. He said we would in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come now. I didn’t realize there were big holes.”

“Those keep wild animals out. And who are you? I’ve never heard of anyone owning this orchard before.”

Sitting up, the young boy stretched out his hand. “I’m Paul, and technically I don’t own this orchard, my father does.”

Y/n offered grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. “I’m Y/n. My father’s dead.”

The young, dark-haired boy seemed surprised at this and unsure what to say. For a moment the pair sat in silence, unsure what to do or say. Finally Y/n got up and dusted herself off before pulling up Paul too.

“Come on, we better get you back to your folks.”

Together they walked out into the street, but then stopped. Y/n looked at Paul inquisitively, confused why he wasn’t walking.

“I don’t know how to get to where we are staying, I’ve never been here before.”

“Do you remember what it looks like?”

“Yeah, It was a really big brown building with vines all over it.”

Releasing a big sigh, Y/n took Paul’s hand and started walking towards the town center. She didn’t want to get caught, but her heart wouldn’t let her abandon this poor boy. So together they walked back to the main house. Upon reaching the giant front doors, Y/n knocked on the door. She was ready to turn and ditch Paul there, but suddenly the door opened. A muscular, curly dark-haired man stood in the doorframe, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. As soon as he saw Paul, however, his face lit up and he smiled.

“Master Paul! You’ve returned! You’ve caused a whole lot of worry tonight.”

“I’m sorry Duncan, I-“

Another man’s voice can from behind the one Y/n was assuming was Duncan.

“Is that him? Is that our boy?”

With that a dark-haired man with a beard step up next to Duncan. At the sight of Paul, he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around him. A woman with long, shiny red hair followed suit, until they were all a pile of tears and whispers of “I love you.”

Finally the adults who Y/n assumed was Paul’s parents stood up and took his hands. “Come on, we’ve got to get you warm.”

As they started to walk away, Paul stopped and turned around. “Wait, what about Y/n? She saved me!”

All the adults turned and looked at Y/n, and suddenly she felt very small. For a moment they just looked at her, but then the woman smiled and reached her hand out to Y/n.

“Come, you saved our son’s life. Let’s get you both warm and dry.”

———————————————————————

Y/n took a good look at herself in the mirror, evaluating the handiwork of her maids. Her dress was made of a loose [your favorite color] fabric that shimmered and moved as she did. Y/n also had various pieces of simple jewelry adorning her, completing the look. Today was the celebration of her birthday, and she looked absolutely perfect.

Despite having been an Atreides for over 10 years, part of Y/n still felt odd with having all this finery and comfort. Yet she loved her adopted family very much, and she knew in her heart she wouldn’t trade a moment for what she had with them.

A rap on the door broke Y/n’s train or thoughts, and upon opening the door she found her adoring brother waiting on the other side. He was dressed up in his best suit, and his curly hair was actually styled in place instead of being everywhere as it usually was.

Paul offered his arm out to Y/n, a small smirk appearing on his face. “Shall I accompany you m’lady?”

Y/n gave a mock curtesy in return and took her brother’s arm. “But of course good sir.”

Together they walked into the ballroom, and both stopped mid conversation from shock. Lights adorned the entire ceiling, casting a glow on all the decorations inside. Beautiful people filled the room, and the smell of delicious food waved through the air, bringing both Paul and Y/n to their senses. With one look, they both rushed off to the tables, weaving between guests and laughing all the while. They piled their plates high with delectable treats before joining their parents at the head table.

“Happy Birthday my dear!” Both Leto and Jessica spoke to Y/n in unison and gave her a kiss on each cheek.

“The party is wonderful, thank you Father and Mother.”

Leto patted Y/n’s hand and used his other one to gesture to the rest of the room. “Only the best for my favorite daughter.”

“But I’m your only daughter?”

Leto winked and laughed at Y/n’s response. “No matter, you are still my favorite.”

Together the family laughed and talked together, reminiscing old times and memories. Finally, however, as the music started up, Jessica ushered her son and daughter over to a group of young people.

“Go join people your age, mingle and have some fun! No need to hang out with the adults all the time.”

Reluctantly both young people did as they were told; while this might’ve been their party, they much preferred each other’s company to other people their age. Awkwardly everyone stood in a circle, with the occasional comment of “wonderful party” or “what a fantastic outfit” being thrown in. Slowly people broke off and went to dance, and finally (with the encouragement of Y/n) Paul accepted an invitation to go dance.

For a while Y/n just watched and tapped her feet in time, until suddenly she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders.

“What’s a beautiful lady like yourself staying on the side?”

“I rather like being alone on the side.” Uncomfortable, Y/n tried to step away, but the boy only tightened his grip.

“Well, that’s not much fun on your birthday.” With that, the boy dipped his head low and placed his lips close to Y/n’s ears. “I’m sure I could show you a much more fun time.”

Before Y/n had time to react, the boy was being ripped away and suddenly she was pushed behind someone. Looking up, she saw her very own brother standing between her and the creep.

“You stay away from her!”

“Or what you gonna do pretty boy, get daddy to come save the day?”

Y/n blinked, and suddenly her brother’s fist was making contact with the other boy’s face. Paul also landed another blow to the gut, making the boy double over. Paul crouched down to his level and whispered in a voice that made even Y/n get chills.

“You stay away from my sister, you hear? Next time I won’t be so nice.”

With that Paul got up and put his arm around Y/n, leading her away from the scene and back to their parent’s table. “Are you okay?”

Y/n gave her brother a small smile, gently rubbing a thumb over his red knuckles. “I am, thanks to you. That guy was a total creep.”

“Don’t you worry.” Paul locked fingers with his sister, holding her hand tightly. “I’ll always be here to protect you.”

#dune #dune movie #dune film #paul atreides #house atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you

[countryclubstarkey]

SOMETHING TO REMEMBER - Sirius Black Smut

Pairings: Sirius Black x Virgin Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, first time, fingering, making out and more

Word Count: 2k+

*Not my Gif

The marauders were quite famous at Hogwarts, known for their pranking and good looks; the group of boys had everyone looking at them at all times. Some people looked at them with hatred, such as Severus Snape and others worshipped the ground they walked on.

You had neutral feelings about them as long as they didn’t mess with you, you were fine with whatever chaos they were causing, plus their good looks and charm were always a nice thing to be around.

Today, the group of boys decided to turn all the Slytherin uniforms Gryffindor red, causing most of them to be in a foul mood. You found it particularly funny, especially when you saw Lucius Malfoy with his platinum hair in the uniform.

Late afternoon on Friday, you were all sitting in potions listening to Slughorn ramble about random topics that he found interesting when suddenly a student knocked on the door.

“Professor Slughorn, Professor McGonagall needs you for something important,” a random second-year student told him. “I’ll be back soon everyone, please read page 300 in the meantime.”

Nobody truly listened to him; instead, everyone turned to their friends.

Feeling a sudden warmth around your ear and you turned to see Sirius Black closing in and leaning towards you. You and Sirius had a strange relationship; he would flirt with you at any chance he could just to see you blush, and to be honest, you didn’t mind the attention.

“So you coming to my party tonight?” he whispered gently in your ear. Your body covered with chills because of how close he was.

“I don’t think so; I have a lot to study.”

A pouty expression made its way on his face, “cmon it’s my birthday; it would mean a lot to the birthday boy.”

Before you could reply, Professor Slughorn made his way back into the room and began his lesson again with just a few minutes left of class. As you were heading back to your dorm room after, a loud booming sound echoed throughout the hall calling your name, “Y/N, wait up.”

Sirius was rushing across the hall trying to reach you, “you never said yes, you know,” the fit boy told you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders to guide you to your dorm.

“Fine, I’ll come for a little bit, and that’s only because I want to talk to Remus about this new book that came out last month,” you mentioned.

Little chuckles escaped his lips as he found your slight obsession with books adorable, but he would never mention that to you at least not right now. “We both know you’re coming for me, darling, save me dance,” Sirius said while walking away, causing you to let out a deep sigh because of how he was making you feel.

Meanwhile, when you got back to your dorm, you decided to pick what to wear to the party and got ready since you only had a little bit of time before it became dark. Whenever any of the marauders threw a party, they tended to get a little wild and out of control so you had to prepare yourself for that.

When nighttime finally hit, you met up with Lily, Alice, Marlene and Mary to head to the party together. Glowing lights brightly lit the Gryffindor common room, the smell of alcohol and weed flowing through the air and the music was loudly played throughout the room. No doubt the music choice were all Sirius’s favourite muggle songs.

You saw the birthday boy and James singing along to whatever song they could their hands on while dancing on the tables already out of their minds. Remus and Peter were trying to get them down before they injured themselves but they were having trouble standing up themselves.

“Guess we have to catch up,” Marlene grinned and dragged all of you to the table that offered the fire whiskey. After several shots, you were finally relaxed and in a similar mindset as the boys. As time went on, you danced and took even more shots with everyone at the party, including Remus, who decided to let loose tonight. Everyone was having the time of their lives, nobody thought about what was going on outside of Hogwarts, but only the party in the Gryffindor common room.

Around 3 a.m, people started heading back to their rooms, and only you, Lily, Marlene, Mary, Alice, Frank and the marauders were left sitting on the couches.

“Let’s play spin the bottle,” Mary suddenly brought up and pulled everyone in a circle. Mary decided to spin the bottle first, and it landed on Marlene; the two girls didn’t hesitate and shared a sweet but intimate kiss.

“That was too easy for you guys,” Remus blurted out, suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol. The girls shrugged while giggling as Marlene spun the bottle and it landed on James. James gave her a quick peck out of respect for Lily.

Next, James spun the bottle, and it landed on Sirius Black.

“No, Padfoot, cmon not again,” James groaned out, not interested in kissing his best mate. Curiously, Alice said, “what do you mean not again?”

Sirius winked, “That’s a story for another time; let’s go prongs, pucker up.” James and Sirius leaned in and gave each other a quick kiss before wiping it off as soon as they finished. The whole group erupted into laughter over the discomfort they saw in the two.

As the laugher started to die down, you began to grow nervous as you noticed it was Sirius’s turn to spin the bottle, and just because of your luck, the bottle landed on you.

Sirius moved towards you, “May I?” You nodded your head at him as you both gradually leaned in and connected your lips. Sirius could feel how nervous you were, so he allowed you to make the next move without pushing you any further.

You deepened the kiss when you felt at ease and could taste cigarettes, fire whiskey and a hint of honey lingering on his lips.

Sirius raised his hand to caress the soft skin of your jaw as he slipped his tongue slowly past your lips, trying to savour this moment as much as he could. Both of you didn’t realize the others were still there until you heard someone clear their throat. Sirius sighed against your lips before giving you one last peck and pulling away to look at your friends again.

The awkward moment passed as time went on, and one by one, everyone went to bed until it was only you and Sirius.

“You know this wasn’t a one-time thing; I really wanted to kiss you, love. I’ve actually liked you for a while now,” Sirius broke the silence and grabbed your hand.

You smiled at him, returning his actions, “I wanted to kiss you too Sirius.” A big grin made its way across his face as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap.

This time you closed the distance between the two of you as your hands grasped his precious locks. The kiss got deeper and more intense with time. You pulled away to steady your breathing as Sirius attached his lips to your jaw, nipping at the skin. Sirius loved the way your skin felt on his lips as he left kisses all across your neck and jaw.

“We should stop before we do something you might regret,” Sirius tried pulling away, but you captured his face and brought him back into the kiss.

In a soothing tone, “I’m not going to regret doing anything with you because I have feelings for you too, I’m sure Sirius,” you told him. Suddenly, Sirius stood up with you wrapped around his body as he headed towards the door of the common room.

“Where are we going,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible. “Somewhere that’s going to give us a little more privacy.”

A door appeared out of nowhere on one of the walls allowing Sirius to step in. It was a replica of the Gryffindor common room except a king-sized bed in the middle. He settled you on the bed as he began kissing down your body, not leaving an inch uncovered.

You helped him unbutton your shirt as he started to kiss your exposed breasts, leaving love bites that you’ll cherish in the morning. “Siri-us,” your moans filled the room as you pulled his hair from the pleasure.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” his words made you blush as you tried to hide your face in your arms, but he didn’t give you the chance to do so. He took off your shirt and bra as he began palming and teasing your nipples, causing chills to gather around your body. You tried to take his shirt off, but his actions stopped you midway. One hand continued to caress your tits, but his other hand started to rub you through your panties, trying to gather your arousal.

“Darling, are you trying to kill me,” he groaned out. Sirius took your panties off but kept your skirt on as he began rubbing your bare cunt.

“We can stop anytime, you know, are you sure you want me to continue,” he asked you one last time. You nodded your head furiously at him trying to get him to continue, “I need words Y/N.”

“Yes, please,” you told him as he entered one finger through your folds and teased your clit with his thumb. Feeling your body clench hard around him as you tried to adjust to the new feeling. Once your body relaxed; he sped up his movements and added another finger.

You felt a foreign feeling on your clit, as something wet started licking at it. Sirius’s head was between your legs as his tongue worked on your clit and his fingers in your pussy. The new action created a different feeling, a good difference. “Plea-se, don’t stop. I’m going to cu-,” you panted as you felt your stomach twist and clench.

“Let go for me,” Sirius groaned out as he felt you release on his tongue and fingers. He helped you calm down after your orgasm by rubbing your thighs whispering praises throughout the entire process. When your eyes opened, Sirius was leaning over and looking at you with lust and love in his eyes. You felt his bulge rubbing against your body as he began peppering kisses on your face.

You both helped him out of his clothes so that he was left bare. His cock stood proudly as the red tip was oozing already with pre-cum and the rest throbbing. He switched your positions so that he was laying underneath you now as you sat in his lap in nothing but your skirt from earlier tonight, quickly; he casted a contraception spell.

His hands rubbed down his cock to get it ready for your next move.

“Ready?” the raven-haired boy asked. His thumbs rubbing circles around your hips, reassuring you if you had any regret you can back out now.

You nodded and braced yourself before slowly lowering yourself on his cock. Your breathing increased as he stretched you out, the pain increased as you went down inch by inch, his face scrunched up in pain and pleasure as he wanted nothing more than to thrust fully into you.

“Love, it’ll feel a lot better if you relaxed,” he told you, trying to make this pleasurable for you both when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

You controlled your breathing as you felt your muscles loosen and the pain became more bearable. He felt you relax around him as it became more pleasurable rather than painful. Sirius gently thrusted trying to see your reactions at a slow pace; with a nod and brief bounce, his thrusts got quicker.

Pleasurable moans left your lips as his cock hit spots that you weren’t familiar with; you began returning his thrusts and tried to control the movements yourself when you felt more comfortable. Nails started dragging down his chest when Sirius angled his hips differently, causing him to aim at your g-spot.

“Darling, you feel so nice and tight,” he groaned out, trying to last a little longer but your pussy preventing it. He dragged your body towards his own and began rapidly thrusting, causing the room to be filled with your loud moans. His lips connected to your neck, breasts and anything else that he could find. He saw your mouth fall open when his finger made contact with your clit as he rubbed a figure-eight motion helping you reach climax.

“I’-m close,” you groaned in his ear as your body began shaking and the tight feeling made its way back in your stomach. Sirius didn’t stop when he felt you cum all over his cock, he continued working you through your orgasm while trying to reach his at the same time.

“Sh-it” he exclaimed as he released his cum. You felt his cum mix with yours as it dripped out leaking onto your thighs and the bed.

Once both of you came down from your high, you slowly got off Sirius to lay down beside him cuddling into his warm body. The only sounds in the empty room were your heavy breathing and the light rain that was hitting the windows. The air began to feel cooler as you snuggled deeper into Sirius, burying your head in his chest.

“How was that for you,” his beautiful voice genuinely asked you.

In a calm tone, “Something worth remembering” you told him as your eyes started to flutter away.

#sirius black smut #sirius black #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black x reader smut #ben barnes #Ben Barnes smut #marauders smut

[kiribakuhappiness]

Do you have any long kiribaku fic requests? Like, 100k, 200k, 300k etc

Something I can sit with for a bit? I’ve been burning through so many that are under 50k and I love that but I have a weekend free to do nothing for the first time in forever and want to settle in

I'm actually glad that someone has asked for this rec because I've been feeling really bad lately that my account has been so inactive while I recover.

So, to try and make up for it, I've put together this rec list of some longer kiribaku fics (maybe not 300k but still pretty long) that have had such a profound impact on me since I've joined the fandom, some of which have really helped with and improved my writing!

I hope you find something of interest among these choices, Anon, as I've enjoyed them all so much! <3

1. In the Roaring Autumn by thegrimzuera. (94k) I'm in the process of re-reading this fic at the moment! A College AU with Katsuki as the main POV (which I love) and his characterization is so well done. I actually picked up and adapted a lot of my current Katsuki writing from this fic when I was first figuring out how to write his character! Highly recommend, Kirishima is a lovely jock who ends up teaching a scorned Katsuki about friendship and how being manly means taking responsibility for your actions. A slow burn that is very well done, all around just a really fun read and so I am reading it again (and again and again and again and...)

2. Tomorrow, Today by timetoboldlygo. (87k) It's been a while since I've read this fic but I've been meaning to come back to it for some time now (HAH, that's like a pun without the set up because -) It's a Time-Travel AU! Love love love that. Future Husbands Bakugou and Kirishima get sent back into their old junior high bodies (to before they met at Yuuei, if I'm remembering correctly). Lots of feelings and working through marital conflicts. I think the story did a good job of taking the usual time-travel trope and giving it an interesting spin from a new perspective that I hadn't seen before!

It's where my love for analyzing Bakugou's younger behaviors came from and probably what eventually spawned the creation of my OC fic later! 😁

3. Broken Bridges by DeathBelle. (68k) Have you ever, uh... have you ever, um, pining?? Yeah. That's this fic. Future Pro-Hero's Red Riot and Ground Zero haven't spoken since their graduation from Yuuei High, and it's a wild ride once they bump into each other again at an active villain site (so bad at trying not to spoil things, ahaha). Another really fun read, a bit on the shorter side compared to the others on this list but it's longer than A Secret Admirer (which might be my longest fic on this account) so I thought it was worth mentioning!

4. Opposed to the Typical by heronfem. (178k) I've talked about this one before (quite recently maybe) and while I was only ever able to read through this once so far, it has stayed in my head for so much longer afterwards, and I think that's a true testament of a great story! Super immersive, really pulls you in for the long haul. If you enjoy lots of world building and fun imagery, fashion labels and plenty of artsy drama, I highly recommend this fic. You can tell a lot of time and attention to detail went into this one, and for that it has gained a ton of my respect!

5. Crown of Thornes | Book 1 by WonderBoyz. (111k) I'm still in the process of reading this one so I don't know all of what happens but as far as Fantasy AUs go, this has really captured my attention. It's gritty, it's got action, lots of conflict and plot twists, I just imagine the fic author must have had so much fun writing this and that gets me really excited to read more! And it's part of a series so there's even more to read after!

6. Moment of Truth by Fanficismything. (104k) This is going to be a really bold claim for me to make, alright? But. This might be my favorite fic on ao3. I have read this fic numerous times because it's a great adaption of one of my favorite tropes and I had so much fun reading it that it literally can't be anything other than my favorite fic. A kiribaku rom-com based on the 2009 movie The Proposal (AKA the greatest fucking movie of all time). I would cradle this fic in a blanket because it just hits all of my comfort feels and makes me so happy. I implore you that if you think you don't need this fic in your life well, then, you are simply wrong. 😂

7. An Abundance of Penguin Shit by Vixensheart. (214k) An Animal Handler AU Y'ALL THIS IS THE SHIT I LIVE FOR! I really enjoyed this fic for so many different reasons, and this is another piece of work that heavily influenced my own portrayal of Katsuki in my writing; I thought his characterization in this was really interesting and leaned on a lot of certain traits of his that I hadn't really considered much before reading this one. There's also (similar to: Opposed to the Typical) so much great detailing and world building and character analysis, ugh I love it sooo much you don't even know. BAKUGOU PLAYS WITH A MF PENGUIN AHXBHAXBA. It's so damn cute and I honestly can't get enough of it. Always recommending. Always always.

8. Metallic Bonds by Kaustikha. (106k) This is another new fic for me that I've just recently gotten my hands on; a Fullmetal Alchemist AU! I've never really dabbled in Fullmetal Alchemist before (yet) but this AU is written so well that honestly, I almost feel like I don't even need to know much at all to enjoy it. It's already so entertaining on its own, the dynamics are really interesting and I'm just all-in-all super hooked on this one right now! I'm really excited to see where it goes!

9. Chitchat and Pencil Pushers by beebuzz. (92k) Of course, I literally could not have made this list without mentioning this fic. A Job Office AU that I find myself coming back to time and time again. Lots of pining and really I don't know what it is about Insert-Regular-Job-Here AU's that I enjoy so much when it comes to kiribaku, but it has my entire soul.

I enjoyed each of these fics for their various own reasons, but mostly I enjoyed all of them and felt the need to add them all into this list because I can tell just how much effort and energy has gone into these works. The characterization is always really well done, the character's conversations feel authentic and engaging, the struggles that they all face vary so drastically (while somehow all being the same exact characters) that it is honestly so fascinating to me to read through these works and know that, inherently, they are all the same story rewritten with a new skin but, outwardly, they're so unique and show so much personality and range between them all.

Isn't that so amazing?? I feel like that's so amazing... maybe I'm just going insane after quarantine, ahaha :,D

Both are viable options, but whichever way that it is, a huge shout-out to these writers and to the others who I have been binging on this hellsite (affectionate) since I got here. Some of these stories bring so many people comfort and entertainment, myself included, and it's nice to be able to share them with you as well!

I hope you find something fun to read! ❤️🧡

#kiribaku #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakushima #kiribaku fic #kiribaku fic recs #bakushima fic #bakushima fic recs #bakusquad #fantasy au #office au #animal handler au #fake dating #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #ao3 fic recs #ao3 author #bnha #my hero academia

[yandere-sins]

I see that ur request is open, u don't have to do mine (I just rly wanna see how this gonna turn out 🤡)

But may i request a yandere farmer x fem reader

(I'm not rly into any fandom so you can just pick any or Rhys is fine too 👀)

My jam, and you know what? I owe everyone named Alex something, so let me create this wonderful buff farmer!yandere named Alex who I don’t kill off this time, I promise. Enjoy!

I uh, did hint at my ideas for yandere farmers with Milo from Pokémon before so yeah. Let’s go over that again, shall we? I’ll give a warning for pet play for those unfamiliar.

Rated Lime

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

It’s still early in the morning when you hear the jarring sound of the barn door opening. For a moment, you hope that all you experienced for the last few days had been a dream, but your body still aches from sleeping on the cold ground, revealing the heavy truth. You can hear the chipper, “Good morning, ladies!” as the cows start to moo in response, the unbearable smell of fecal and urine drifting towards you with the fresh air coming in from outside.

It’s time to get up, scream, do something! But you blink a few times, your swollen eyes barely opening after you cried yourself to sleep last night, and you look at the iron cuffs around your wrists. Why even trying? you ask yourself, immediately discarding the thought and pushing yourself from the floor. No, it’s too early to give up. You can’t let yourself down like this yet.

“And good morning, Sunshine.” The voice next to you makes you flinch as you look up into the chestnut eyes of your captor. He tips his cap, smiling. You’re disgusted by his presence alone, but a sweet smell comes your way. Leaning over the wooden barriers he put up as your ‘pen’, Alex holds a plate in his hands, pancakes stacking up on top of it with blueberries rolling off of them. The food is still warm, steam visibly rising from them in the colder morning air.

He looks at you expectantly when you don’t make a move, only trying to hide the saliva building in your mouth. You haven’t had a homemade breakfast in a long time, much less proper food in the last few days. There is no telling if your body can still stomach something as delicious as pancakes, but you prefer it so much more than the weird grain mix he also feeds to the cows and would shove down your throat. “Thought you might be hungry, Babe,” he smiles as he sees the desire in your eyes, his own gaze never straying from you, taking in every last flinch and move of yours.

In a way, you are like a wild animal to him, that much he told you. He restricted your movements with chains, fed you like cattle, and treated you like a dog, cooing and using the carrot and stick method to handle you. It’s disgusting, but by now, you at least feel as dirty as one. Using the fork he brought along, Alex cuts off a piece from the breakfast, eating from it first, his eyes staring into yours as he does it. Did he do it to show he didn’t poison it? Does he want to claim this plate of pancakes for himself? But why would he bring it to you in the first place if that’s the case?

Still chewing, he puts the fork down, pulling another pancake piece off the plate with his bare fingers, and holds it out to you. He was eager to lessen the distance between you and him from day one, but his dirty methods made you want to spit in his face. Stomach growling, you are at a loss of what to do. If you let him feed you like a dog, there was no way he’d keep it at that, but perhaps this was your only chance on receiving actual, human food he’d give you if you refuse him.

Your chains rattle as you scoot closer, refusing to play the captured animal and crawl on all fours. Every muscle of yours is sore and hurt from the cold, but there is no other way, the chains around your wrists and ankles keeping you down with their weight. Instead, you stretch your neck as far as possible, your back tensing up in response until your mouth is under his fingers and the piece of pancake hanging from them. But Alex doesn’t just let the food go, watching you with an excited grin as you carefully put the piece between your teeth. Only then does he let go, and you are able to claim the sweet sensation on your tongue as yours.

Eager, Alex holds out another piece, and you take it without even swallowing the first one completely. Something in you completely set out as your brain is satisfied with sugary sweet and fluffy pancakes melting in your mouth, their warmth going through your whole body. You are hooked on the rush of food, you don’t notice your tongue lapping up the syrup on his fingers with the next piece of pancake until it’s too late. But Alex notices, his lips immediately turning into a disgusting grin of self-satisfaction, and he reaches for your face, fingers curling under your chin and thumb rubbing over your cheek.

Immediately, you shy away, disgusted by his touch and disappointed in yourself that you didn’t see it coming. In the reflection of his wide-open, maniacally staring eyes, you can see how dirty and disgusting you are after living like a barn animal for days, and that is precisely how Alex sees you. An animal that he just touched for the first time. Who came to him of their own free will. To him, it is progress. To you, despair.

“Come,” he entices, luring you with more pancakes, but you feign disinterest. “Don’t be scared now. I know you like it.”

The pancakes? Yes. Him? Not at all.

“You need to eat to get big and strong, you know?”

“I’m not a baby animal,” you hiss back, putting on the meanest glare you can muster.

“You sure act like one,” Alex reminds you tauntingly, his smile unfading but his expression less amused than it had been before. “Licking at my fingers, coming to me for food. Don’t you think that’s what a good pet does? You’ve been holed up in your corner for too long. You should be more grateful for my efforts, just like the cows.”

Gnawing at your lip, your eyes fall from his to the pancake slowly growing cold. Only now do you realize he has been feeding you with these fingers of his without your knowledge if they were dirty or clean. Being a farmer, you never know where he puts them before approaching you, and you grow more disgusted for having fallen into this trap he had laid out for you.

Suddenly, for the first time, you hear him sigh. Even when he scratched his head and wondered what to do with you before, he never once had sighed. Somehow, it makes you shudder, a bad feeling spreading in your stomach as he hangs his head, shaking it.

“I’m not asking much, you know. Here’s the deal.” His eyes are ice-cold as he looks up again, and Alex roughly throws the piece of pancake to the floor right in front of you. It no longer looks appetizing, but you are more afraid of the man before you than the wasted food. “Eat it,” he orders commandingly, fitting this whole scenario he imagines you two to play in.

“Ew, no--” you want to protest, furrowing your brows when he interrupts you harshly by throwing the whole plate, including the pancakes, to the ground inside your pen. “In less than an hour, your whole fucking pen will be swarmed by ants. But I’ve got something better for you.”

Pointing to the piece of food before you, Alex repeats, “Eat it,” and this time, you don’t dare to respond. “Eat, and you can come inside with me.”

At this, your ears perk up, eyes widening. “I-Inside?” you ask, doubting that he meant what he said. “Yeah. I prepared a nice box for you in the house, warm and cozy. Clean water and a hot shower included, but I need to know that you are willing to listen to me, you understand?”

Body trembling, you sit there like a deer in the headlights. This is too good to be true, and you fear how high the price is that you’d have to pay if agreed. Listening to him can’t possibly be the only thing he’d want once you were inside, but you watch as the first few flies come over from the cows, wanting to get a piece of the delicious breakfast wasted on the ground. You’d have no peace if you stayed here - never.

Your hand reaches out but just as quickly pulls back. “What will we do inside?” you squeak, unable to control your anxious stuttering. Now that Alex’s lips curl back into a smile, you see his sinister side for the first time. He is leaning casually onto the barricade, but his whole demeanor changed into something horrifying, something that gives you the vibes of a sick and twisted person more than ever. “Don’t ask, just decide. Eat and come inside with me, or stay here between cows, piss, and shit. Maybe you can be useful for milk production?”

The pure horror of thinking about what that fate would entail makes you go weak, and in less than a few seconds, you had gobbled up the piece of pancake, stuffing it into your mouth. Immediately you feel the recoil of your body after doing something so disgusting, but you hold back from spitting it out, already having come so far. “Good girl,” he praises you in a belittling tone like you’d use for pets and children. Opening up your pen by unlocking the many locks he had put on for safety, Alex doesn’t mind the food on the ground, neither slipping on it and breaking his neck like you hoped for, nor having shards of the plate go through his boots.

“Give me your hand,” he asks, holding his own out until you slowly lift yours into his. The chains are way too heavy, but the fear keeps you working even though your wrists are open wounds from the chafing cuffs. “Good,” he keeps praising, repeating the progress for your other hand. “You’re learning so quickly, look at you. Attagirl!”

You don’t dare to rub your bleeding wrists as they are finally free, but a giant boulder falls from your heart as you feel relief set in. “Damn, you do need a good bath, though,” Alex mutters as he sits down beside you, proceeding to uncuff your ankles. You feel a sense of shame, not being able to smell yourself anymore but not wanting to imagine it either.

Finally, you are free of all restrains, but before you can try doing anything funny, Alex picks you up in his arms, his broad chest in front of your face and the smell of aftershave and sweat filling your nose. You didn’t know that was how he smelled. After all, he brought you here unconscious, and when you woke up, you were already in this shitty pen, cuffed and gagged for the first two days.

“Feeling good?” he asks you as he notices how quiet you’ve gotten, not much left of your spiteful self that would scream and curse at him before. You nod slowly, not looking up. Looking at him from close-up might cause you to puke after all, and you’ve worked too hard to get to this point. Alex gives you a rough, scolding shake, and you instinctively grip onto his shirt. “Tell me.”

“Yes...” you mumble, hoping that will be enough to satisfy him, and Alex gives you another sigh before shrugging lightly and adjusting you in his arms. “That’s something we can work on,” he promises you for another time, and you keep your head low as he carries you outside.

It’s been way too long that you saw the morning dew on the grass, fog covering the fields in the distance, and the sun only starting to fully rise above you. It makes you look up in awe, unknowingly being observed by a curious pair of eyes from above. Being outside again almost makes the trouble worth it, and you are able to find happiness in this small victory.

But you have yet to grasp the consequences of your decision. Even if it looked great in the image you had in your mind, you aren’t aware of the state of the house inside, what was waiting for you behind the pretty facade of a farmer’s home. The demands he has of you that Alex had yet to reveal and how eager he was to train his adorable little darling. Make you just as dependant and obsessed with him as his animals were, while you’d share their place at the end of the bed for a long time.

And you didn’t even know about the collar yet.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

A/N: Oh god, I haven’t written anything in the present tense for a loooong time. I hope it was readable! Sorry in advance if I messed up occasionally, I tried to get everything sorted out properly... >_< Still, a very enjoyable write and I hope the read as well!

#yandere!farmer #farmer #yandere farmer #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[katsukikitten]

In which Shoto is an asshole Oni and I am the author that wrote the majority of this fic tipsy, you’re welcome! Bnharemcollab masterlist found here

Warnings: Non con bruv. Claws horns? He's an oni bud

"And they say he's been stealing the hearts of beautiful women for centuries. So don't go talking to any ole handsome man that steps over a threshold." The tour guide adds to the end of her ridiculous story about some Demon King that drags women to hell before she leads the group onto the next painting.

Still there was something captivating about the art work, how the man has his back to the viewer and how women bow to him, foreheads pressed into the tatami mats with their own bleeding hearts held high over their heads. Blood drips from their hands, splattering on the mats like rain or tear drops. The man, who is assumed to be the Oni, is looking over his shoulder, hand reaching out for the nearest offering. Both figures are forever suspended in brush strokes and desire for more. The closer you inspect the other worldly looking figure the more your gut tightens. His elaborate kimono hangs loosely from his body but you can still see the broadness of his shoulders, the thick bands of muscle on his forearms, the apparition of elongated nails when you look closer and finally the faint strokes atop of his two toned hair that are in the shape of sharp horns.

A God among men or maybe you should say a Devil among friends. A sigh escapes you as you admire the work before the tour guide announces the title, artist and time period of the next piece. “Wrath of the Mountain God.” A large man, with long hair so deep in hue you first mistake it for black, stands in a Kimono. His chest on display as he stands giving the view his profile, his eyes glow red in the light of the full moon, in his arms seems to be a maiden, a flower crown falling from her hair. It looks as if his strong form had just taken a step, beneath his foot begins a nasty fissure that gapes the Earth for miles and miles. The painting feels charged and emotions practically drip from the ink painting and yet still your eyes flicker to the painting to it’s right. At this angle you can see a faint shimmer in his smoky quartz colored eye. It sends a shiver down your spine as you feel a faint breath on the nape of your neck. Quickly you turn your head, craning your neck to look over your shoulder but no one stands behind you. Just another painting, “Golden God of Destruction.” Red gaze glowering as his hair drips gold, while he walks over the hellish landscape of cooling and erupting lava. You swallow thickly before following the tour guide onto the next section.

The tour lasts another half an hour but your mind lingers on the shimmering eyes of the dangerous entity. The more you think of him the bigger the sinking feeling in your gut becomes, not to mention the more you feel as if something is stalking your every move. Another quick glance over your shoulder as you exit the museum while you ponder over why this particular Oni was handsome when all of the other artworks featuring a yokai or oni were depicted as ugly, grotesque even.

Maybe it was because he was the King? You couldn’t be sure, all you knew is that you could understand why the women would rip out their hearts and offer them up to him. He was hot as hell, no pun intended.

Suddenly the fall air smells of frost and the threat of snow, you wrinkle your nose before you jump out of your skin. .

"So you liked the "Oni King, stealer of heart’s'' piece best?" A smooth voice calls from behind you, you press your hand over your rapidly beating heart as you try to catch your breath. Startled, you turn around to see a handsome man opening the gate, stepping over the grass line onto the sidewalk. Instantly you feel heat rush you as a cool autumn breeze swirls around fallen leaves around your boots.

"How did you…"

"I come here often and no one has ever stopped and looked at that piece as long as you have." He seems stoic and you can just barely see the corner of his mouth lift up. You take a moment to really drink him in, his tall stature, his hair a shocking white with contrasting red and a scar that sits beautifully over one of his gem stone eyes. One a smoky quartz and the other a bright turquoise.

You swallow thickly as you stare at the other worldly man, finding little to no words as your heart beats into your ribcage. You grip at the fabric of your jacket over your heart, it pounds against your rib cage like a fluttering wild bird.

"Where are my manners? I am Todoroki Shoto. But you can call me Shoto." Again he offers his barely there smile, "And you are?"

It's laughable how you stumble over your own name, you have never had issues talking to attractive people before, what the hell was your problem now.

“It sounds lovely.” He says your name, it rolls off of his tongue like music makes you swallow thickly, your knees threatening to buckle and you can’t understand why you’re acting like a love struck teenager again. There is a contrasting air about him, just like his hair. Passion and reservation, raging power and quiet tranquility, and the feel of it is making you dizzy. Tipsy almost, drunk if you linger here too long. Just as you’re about to express how you’ll be late for dinner he smiles at you.

Fully this time.

And you think your heart was going to claw out of its calcium coffin but it stalls when you notice that it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Well since you have a good appreciation of art, would you care to join me in the garden, the Chrysanthemum are in full bloom this time of year.” You swallow as you look at him, a twinge of fear lingering in your blood that is soon lost as he steps over the threshold of the garden, waiting patiently.

“Uh, yea I think I can spare some time.” You smile nervously, he offers out his hand.

“Be careful, the step down can be quite steep.” A genuine small form on your lips now as you remember the first time you set foot into this garden and almost twisted your ankle. You step over the threshold, blinking against the late afternoon sun as you do.

Except when you open your eyes once more, you are no longer in the garden. There are no shrubs and bushes, no cinderblock wall of the old museum, something more sinister stands in its place. The sky is an inky black, the full moon hangs overhead shining down onto a small village that thickens the closer it gets towards a large feudal era looking castle. Fading sunlight filter behind you as you whip your head behind you. A giant Torri stands where the aging fence and garden gate stood before, a hazy image of an autumn afternoon in the shape of the gate rapidly begins to shrink. Panicked you lunge arm outstretched as if catching a full elevator as you’re running behind for a very important meeting.

If only your paralyzing panic was over something so trivial.

A strong set of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards a chiseled chest as hot breath whispers cooly in your ear.

“I wouldn’t do that if you want to keep all of your limbs, love.”

Shaking you glance over your shoulder before you watch the portal to home close up.

Just like that the landscape that could be seen through the gate was endless night and rolling hills dotted with homes here and there. When you turn to face your captor his eyes narrow as he studies you. His gem stone eyes glittering in the rich moonlight, following your hands up to your chest. He stills as he listens and while he looks you notice the horns growing from his head. Thin and shaped into a deadly point. He tilts his head as if you are bewitching before he leans closer, capturing your hair between his fingers. Now that you were in the moonlight, in the realm he ruled, you looked...familiar and the feeling made his chest tighten.

“How does your heart feel?” He asks, eyes anywhere but yours. You try to jerk out of his touch but his warm hand wraps around your bicep keeping you well within arms reach.

“My heart?! What does that have to do with me standing in HELL!” You scream and it echoes across the chilled landscape. Some women in kimono pass by, keeping their eyes turned down as they pass but once they are a few steps behind this brute’s back, they send you withering glares.

Your attention comes fully back to the man in front of you, or maybe you should say demon. He presses his hand over your heart with a puzzling look. Your body heats from the contact and embarrassment, you were sure he could feel how hard your heart was pounding. All the while his brows knit upwards.

“Seems you aren’t affected…”He murmurs to himself, tonguing his cheek. Suddenly he tears your sweater, pressing his hand against your chest and part of your breast.

“Hey!” You protest until a burning sensation blooms on your skin, when he pulls away you see kanji puckering up, that reads “Shoto”

“That should keep the lower demons away...for now.” He grabs onto your wrist tightly, too tightly before your world bends and blurs. Folding in on itself as if Space and Time were suddenly a beautiful origami paper creased until the maker was satisfied.

The world is bright when you open your eyes next, cradled in an abundance of candle light as your stomach sours causing you to lurch.

“Ugh, not on the tatami!” A woman’s voice scolds, but her state doesn’t help the nausea that hits you in waves. She wears a beautiful kimono, embroidered with gold and silver thread on violet cloth, the chest stained a deep cherry and a hole is where her heart should be. Her hands stained blood red and you back up, panting as you try to keep a level head.

“Get her cleaned up.” Shoto snaps, “I will want her in my room promptly.”

The women in the room shake slightly, keeping their heads down, distantly you can hear the sound of a thousand thundering hearts, deafening in a sense. The stately woman gently guides you towards the bath in the large mansion, shock sets in as your gaze glazes over. Every hall has a woman, anywhere from the feudal era to today, all dressed in kimonos, most were dressed in the ones they obviously died in or dressed in old clothes with their tattoos and fresh wounds peeking out from beneath the fabric.

Every single person sends you a death glare.

You’re stripped of your clothes and dignity in the company of about twenty women, hands shove you into the steaming water, cupping the cloudy water to wash your skin.

No matter how often the woman dip their hands into the water, the blood never leaves their fingertips, forever stained in their sin.

“We gave them away, you know. Ripped them from our chests….” She looks up at you with a timid look.

“Kiyoko, hush.” An elder hisses as she straightens the thin piece of cloth you were going to wear once you were all pieced together.

“No, she deserves to know..” Kiyoko hisses back, “The story is similar for a lot of us, he appears in a doorway, he seems kind enough, and then we look into his eyes. Gazing too deeply before our hearts seize in our chests, flopping around as if behind your flesh was killing it and it should sit in the palm of his hand. The only logical thing was for us to reach deep inside of ourself and give him what he deserved.” A quite falls over the room before a heavy solem air settles on your shoulders.

“He stopped for a while….after he met you.” Your eyes flash to hers and the elder’s hand wraps into Kiyoko’s hair, pulling her away from you.

“Enough.” She snarls as tears run down her cheeks, down all the women’s cheeks and you swallow thickly.

After an hour of primping you find yourself in front of two sliding tatami doors that have Oni and other yokai decorating their sheets.

“Send her in.” A deep voice sounds from the other side.

“Yes master.” The women answer, opening the doors before one shoves you in.

Doors to the eqwaa are open as he lounges on the polished wood, staring at the moon. He turns his head to look over his shoulder and it eerily reminds you of the painting in the museum.

In an instant he is in front of you, backing you into the plush bed that sat in the middle of his room, you fall onto the raised futon looking up at him.

The lowlight plays tricks on your eyes, the square paper lantern and the moon painting him in strokes of kind, of hurt, not some beastly thing he obviously was. Even his horns seemed soft, but nothing was softer than his lips as he pressed them to yours. Embarrassingly ecstasy blossoms under your eyelids as liquid heat floods your core. His tongue probes yours as he leans over top of you, playing with you nipples through the thin cloth as you moan into his mouth. Your body arches into his his as your heart flutters, trying to pull you away from his addicting touch.

Maybe you could have gotten away, maybe….

If only his hand hadn’t slipped between your thighs where he teased your sex utnil you pruned his figners, singing like the song bird he knew you were. His hard cock presses against your thigh twitching with delight. He kisses down your throat before he shreds the thin white kimono away from your body. He groans audibly before he leans down, one finger pulling at your pebbled nipple while the other pulls it between his teeth.

“Shoto…”You cry and he moans into your supple skin. Taking off his own thin kimono to align himself up to your fluttering hole. Eyes glued to your heart, fingers tracing the kanji as he eases himself in inch by inch. Stretching you and filling you pleasantly. He sits for a moment, taking in your body and how you burn under his touch. Free hand roaming your body as the other prods your fresh burn. Tracing the strokes over and over as if he wrote it himself.

Well technically he did.

“Please.” Your mouth betrays, hips pressing up into his to get any sort of friction, his free hand comes down, slamming your hips into the bed.

“Say it again.” He huffs, “Say my name again.”

“Shoto.” It's a hushed, reluctant breath but your skin was icy hot, lifeforce feeling as if it were evaporating away from the heated tension that sat between you two. He watches your body wither, feels your cunt clamping down onto him desperately and it’s all he can do not to thrust into you widely.

“Again.” He barks, pulling at your nipple harshly.

“Shoto.” You moan, the sound is enough to make him start his harsh pace. Pelvis slamming into yours as his tuft of pubic hair glides across your clit. Your vision blurs with tears, it feels so good. Better than anything you’ve ever had or could ever remember as his claws ghost over your soft skin.

“You thought you could escape me.” He grunts, ramming himself into you harder, you moan in response, “I marked more than your flesh two hundred years ago, I marked your soul.”

“You couldn’t help yourself, coming back to the very piece of art you created.” He continues with a laugh, claws raking down your skin, slicing at your skin superficially. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you cannot fathom what he’s said. All that there is the feel of his hands, the pleasure that threatens to snap in your stomach.

He watches the way your cunt coats his cock in a silvery sheen that has his lips parting. Taking wanton ruts, the motion of it rattling the art on the wall. Pieces fall around you and any of the scrolls that try to block his view of you get shredded mid air. His thrusts turn sloppy as he comes down to bite at your neck.

“Shoto!” You cry out, vision going black as your body convulses around him, eyes rolling in to the back of your head as you forget your name and only cry out his.

“That’s right, tell me who you belong to. Who owns you love.” He pants, holding his own release for a moment longer just to hear your sweet voice scream his name over and over. Finally your milking cunt sends him over the edge. He grunts, staring into your eyes as he paints your wall a creamy white.

“Mine.” He growls, biting at your breast, at the skin over your heart. You feel his spilling cock harden again as your body melts into the sheets.

Most of the night is spent in mind numbing ecstasy and in those few short hours you forget you were ever brought here unwillingly.

You sit on a throne, overlooking the vast landscape of Yomi, Oni running the underworld as heartless women wander the streets. Their mortal heartbeats keeping time as they ceaselessly beat just beneath your feet. Mind’s eye miles away as you see a ghost of a hand before you. Memory playing out as you take careful brush strokes against your canvas, hoping this would serve as a warning for other women as you dab the brush in the deep colored liquid that stains the tatami floor of your home.

Ever the artist you wanted to add final touches even as you drew your final breaths, having thought it better to take your own life than to sit at the right hand of a demon, your chest was already mutilated with his name.

Irony weighs heavy in your stomach as you realize how futile it was to even make that masterpiece. It did not serve as a warning.

No if anything, it served as a beacon, drawing you like a moth to flame until you circled to close.

Burning up in the flames of the very thing you admired.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #oni shoto x reader #tw: non con #twnoncon

[in-the-name-of-styles]

Need You.

Author’s Note: Hello! After answering tons and tons of asks, and explaining how Tumblr had deleted the second part “Please Stay” to my one shot named “Only If” for god knows what reasons. I had to do this for you guys. I stopped writing years ago, and but kept my masterlist open for you to come and read my writings whenever you wish to. Trust me, this was so effing difficult for me to do! but I’m kind of proud that I removed the time and managed it. but let me inform you it’s not the same, because I do not remember what happened in the original one clearly. I hope this is a better and hopefully more well-written (amongst my other writings *cringe*) version of the old one.

It’s not proof read. I haven't edited it, so I’m sorry in advance for the typos. 

So, guys, gals and non-binary pals, I present to you (apology for it being light years late) the part two to your favourite little creation of mine “Only If”, with a new identity... please welcome “Need You”!

Do let me know how it makes you feel in the ask box or comment section. I love reading them. Happy Reading!

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: tons of angst with tons of fluff, sensitive harry???? (or do you guys call it sub!harry nowadays??) anyways it’s a cute!harry :P !

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It’s been four hours, and you still weren’t back. Though it wasn’t new for you to go for a drive after an argument with him, you often came back within an hour or two. The blizzard outside was making Harry quite anxious. Even though the fight was extreme, he wanted you back safe and sound. He now realised how harsh he was on you. You didn’t intentionally leak the song. It was a mistake and it could happen to anyone, himself included. He felt guilty over the way he yelled at you; it wasn’t like him to react like that.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to do something special for you. Though he planned on apologising to you verbally, he wanted his actions to prove it too. He made his way to the kitchen to cook you your favourite meal. He got a hold of his phone and switched on the playlist which include all the songs both of you enjoyed. the sound of the vessels clucking against each other minimised over the song playing on through the speakers.

A smile lit up on his face as he reminisced back to the moment when you were dancing to this song while making the two of you breakfast.

FLASHBACK

Harry rubbed his eyes as he walked down the stairs, his dimpled smile already making its appearance when he heard your voice blasting through the kitchen entrance. He didn’t know why you bothered turning the song on so loud, you were anyways going to be louder. He stopped at the kitchen entrance, a silent laugh escaped him as he leaned against the door frame and took in the scene going on in front of him.

“You say you want a good time! Well here I am, baby, here I am, baby” you belted out loud, cheeks turning red with the happiness radiating out of you. You’d decided that the whisk was your microphone of choice with batter stuck to it and everything. You’re moving those luscious hips which drive him crazy right to the rhythm of the song.

“Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me talk to me, tell me what's on your mind!” you missed a note but you don’t care. This scene right in front of him, he wished he could capture and watch it forever. Bruno Mars did bring a wild side out of you, and he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the multi-talented singer. He would give anything to see you like this. Knowing you’re the shy type who doesn’t enjoy too much of attention, getting to watch you like this was definitely a sight.

He walked right up to you and wrapped his arms around you slowly. You jumped in a scare, as you were lost in your own world. “Harry! You scared me.” You complained, trying to ignore the blush on you cheeks after you realised he must’ve been watching you from a far.

He nuzzled into your neck and sighed, while pressing a kiss there, “Hmm… I’m sorry, m’love. But you just looked so beautiful I didn’t want to stop you.” He murmured while pressing more kisses to your neck, then trailing them up to your jawline. “Y’ look utterly ravishing right now. Forget pancakes, instead I’ll have you for breakfast.” He smiled and went on to kiss your cheeks. His comments made you smile. He saw his chance and lightly bite the side of your cheek. You squealed and tried to push him away.

“H, stop!” you laughed. He tightened his arms around you and swayed to the beat of the song then went on to sing next lyric “Tell me baby, tell me, tell me baby what you tryna do!” he slightly lifted up your t-shirt and moved one of his hands under it, and muttered, “huh? What are you trying to do to me, baby?” and pressed yet another kiss to your cheek.

“Gosh, your hands are extremely cold!” you gasped. He then turned you around to face him. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him. The two of you smiled quietly towards each other, then he leaned down to kiss you properly. You shifted one of your hands into his the nape of his neck and the other went on to cup his cheek. He moved one of his around your shoulder and the other around your waist. Both of you sighed and bathed in each other’s presence.

“G’morning, froggy” you teased as pulled away first and smiled up at him. He frowned and tutted, then smacked your ass lightly. You always teased him for his morning face, said it looked like a cute frog. He rubbed the area he spanked and quickly pecked you once again before pulling away to look at you.

Brushing away the hair stuck to your face, “Morning, precious. How’re you feeling?” he asked, hugging you towards his chest. Let’s just say the rest of the day went on just like this. Him being needy for your attention, and you loving on him without any hold backs.

END OF FLASHBACK

Right as he was getting ready to plate the dish, the doorbell rang. He smiled, happy to finally have you home. He quickly washed his hands and walked up to the door as he rubbed his hand dry with the towel which was once on his shoulder. He buzzed you in thinking you’ll unlock the main door with the security code. But after two minutes of waiting and not seeing you walk through the door, he turned on the camera above his buzzer to see what was wrong.

He frowned when he saw two police officers standing outside his door. His heart suddenly started racing at rapid speed. He rushed towards the door and unlocked them. Coming face to face with the two sombre looking men, he tentatively asked, “G’ evening, officers. How may I help you?”

The two men exchanged looks and the tall one replied, “Sir, there has been an accident and we found an ID on the victim. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N residence? we’re here to inform you about the unfortunate event.”

“I-I don’t understand? What happened?” he stuttered, his legs almost felt as if they were about to give up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have much information for you. May we ask what’s your relation to the victim?” the other officer asked, and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Fiancé.” He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his panic attack rising. “I’m her fian-” he shook his head, “Just tell me where she is please…” he pleaded and quickly put on his shoes. He took his car keys and raced up to his rover.

“She’s over at St. Thomas, Mr. Styles.” The officers had clearly recognised the distressed man. “Here’s her ID. We hope everything is well.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to thank them as he started his car and backed out of the parking spot. He raced up to the hospital, and once he reached, he ran up to the reception.

“Y-Y/N Y/L/N? S-She just c-came in? I’m her f-fiancé?” He gasped out your name. The lady was busy tending to others to notice him. “Hey! Hey! Please ma’am just tell me where she is!” he was on the verge of weeping in front of her.

The old lady looked at him with a bit of annoyance, “Take a breath, young man. I’m trying my best here!” She walked up to him. “Now tell me, what was her name again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” He rushed. He couldn’t stand straight. Once he got what he wanted, he ran towards the elevator, up to the fifth floor. The corridor was busy and he couldn’t care less about pushing people aside. He just wanted to get to you as soon as he could. He found your door and barged in, not caring about the doctors around your bed.

“Y/N!” He rushed to your side, dropping beside your bed.

“Sir you can’t be her-” the male nurse tried to pull him back.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, precious!” He cried, trying to get the man off of him and get back to you. “I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere- GET OFF ME. SHE NEEDS ME!” he yelled pushing the guy away.

“Hey man you’re no good to her at the moment yeah? Let the doctors do their job!” the nurse tried to make him understand while pulling him back yet again. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach to you. He sobbed over your state, blood was streaming down your forehead, and all he wanted to do was protect you and wrap his arms around you.

“No I need to be here! Please let me!” he cried. All of sudden a beep brought his cries to a halt. He looked around frantically wanting to know what had happened. “W-What’s wrong?!” he hiccupped.

The doctor and the nurses around him started rushing around the room. He then heard those words which made his heart stop, “She has flat-lined! Someone pass me the defibrillator!” the  doctor raised his voice.

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. The nurse had enough of the unwilling man and pushed him out the door, “Sir we cannot help her if you’re being difficult. Please calm down and go to the waiting room. We will inform you about her doing as soon as we can.” and then shut the door to his face. Harry could no longer see you. The group of doctors, covered your body.

He slid down the wall next to your door and sobbed into his hands. Only if he would’ve stopped you from leaving. Only if he would’ve told you that he forgives you and that he loved you more than anything. Only if he would’ve let the argument die and kiss you instead. Only if…

Later, the upset man walked himself to the toilet. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t care about his red swollen eyes, his sweaty forehead and matted hair. The image of you lying on that bed yet again brought tears to his eyes. The thought of you not making it made him retch and he rushed into one of the restrooms. He dry-heaved and cried. Once he was able to breathe, he took out his phone.

Sniffling as he dialled the only number he could think of, The voice on the other side made him breakdown. “Mum I-” he couldn’t complete his sentence, as he tried to wipe his eyes.

“Harry? Darling what’s wrong?!” she asked shocked at her son’s rapid breathing.

“Y/N s-she is- Mum I can’t lose her. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she doesn’t make it?” He wept while running his sticky fingers through his hair.

“Love, what-” she tried to ask him, but he cut her off.

“What if she…What if she dies, mum?” he cried and coughed.

His mother had figured out by now that you were not okay, and might be admitted in the hospital. She tried to calm her son through the phone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t near him and by the time she would reach it might not be enough. So she did the only thing she could once Harry hung up the phone, she rang up his friends.

Harry sat himself down on one of the wating room chairs. No one was telling him anything, he had no idea how you were doing or if you were okay. He was out of tears, and soon enough the exhaustion took over him. He didn’t even realise when he had fallen asleep until he felt a hand brush the back of his head. He opened his eyes and saw his two friends crouching in front of him.

“Hey buddy…” Louis smiled softly. Harry jolted back up, and got up to run towards your room. But before he could stand up straight Mitch stopped him. “H, they just came in here to inform us about her condition.”

“How’s she? Is she okay? Is she awake? She needs me, I need to be beside her.” He rushed. His two close friends, tried to calm him down.

“They said she’s stable now, mate. But we aren’t allowed to meet her yet, okay?” Louis stated.

Harry took deep breaths and looking at their extremely destressed friend, Louis pulled him into a hug. Getting the comfort he desperately needed, Harry started sobbing again. He was tired of crying but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Everything is going to be okay, Harry. She’s our little tigress, she’s going to pull through, yeah?” Mitch ran a hand drown his friend’s shoulder. Harry nodded lightly and tried to slow down his heart.

48 Hours Later

It’s been two days, yesterday Harry was allowed to visit you since they moved you out of the ICU. Thankfully, your internal recovery was rapid, and you could wake up anytime. He was getting a bit impatient. He wanted to see you open those shiny eyes and look at him the way you always did, with so much love that made him giddy and flustered. These past two days he’s been talking to you, continuously apologising for his behaviour, and how he’s going to make up for everything that went wrong. You just had to come back to him.

“and then Louis got frustrated because Mitch was not answering him. But that’s Mitch for you, right?” he slightly smiled and ran the hand which wasn’t holding you hand, through your hair. “You’re going to hate your hair, once you wake up. You always like them a certain way, don’t you? But don’t you worry, I’ll help you wash your hair as soon as you wake up and come back home.” He stated and kissed your hand. He was silent for a while, just continued to run his hand through your hair.

“You’re going to come back to me, right precious?” he asked quietly, “Why aren’t you waking up, huh? Your froggy needs you to open your eyes....” he continued, as he forced a laugh out of his throat which had a huge lump in it. His eyes turned misty as he continued, “I hate it here. Seeing you like this is a nightmare. I miss you so much. I miss you calling me annoying little names. I miss you smacking me when I’m being a narcissistic little prick. I miss your voice. I miss everything about you, and even though it’s just been two day, I feel like it’s been forever. Wake up, baby. Please…” he pleaded.

As the day turned into night, Harry decided to stay back. He asked for an extra blanket and a pillow for his makeshift bed on the couch. He didn’t know why he bothered because he spent the entire night sitting beside you, holding your hand as he fell asleep leaning against it.

You could listen before you could see. The only thing you could hear was the air conditioner and someone lightly snoring against your right hand. You tried to move your fingers as you opened your eyes. The bright light made you squint, you blinked rapidly as your vision cleared. You turned to your right and saw Harry’s peaceful face sleeping against your hand. You felt the need to clear your throat, and your eyes searched the room for a glass of water. But the sound made Harry wake up from his sleep. He lifted his face and wiped the little drool from his face and the little amount on your hand.

“whoops, you’d kill me now if you were awak-” he turned to look at your face, and he had to double take. He gasped, almost falling off this chair. “Y/N…Oh my- you’re awake!” he nearly yelled. He pressed the button to call the nurse and then cupped your face going on to press kisses to your face, “Baby I was so scared. I thought I had lost you!” He laughed his airy laugh and looked at you with utter happiness.

For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. The words he said to you were the only thing swimming through your mind. For you time had stood still, like the fight had happened mere hours ago. You moved your face away from his hands. Harry frowned noticing this change in your mood.

“Hey what’s wrong? The doctor is on her way, yeah. Do y’need anything?” he asked frantically following your eyes round the room. He saw you eye the plastic cup beside your bed, “Y’ want water? Hold on I’ll get it for you.” He ran to the other side and brought the cup up to your face. You didn’t realise how thirsty you were until the first sip hit your throat, you started gulping it down quickly.

“Take it easy, precious. They took out the tube just yesterday.” He explained softly.

Once your thirst was quenched he kept the cup aside then went on to pull his sleeve over his knuckles and wiped the wet corners of your mouth. You moved your face aside yet again, he couldn’t understand what was wrong. But before he could ask you, the doctor came in to check on you. She did her tests and asked a few questions. She left as soon as she was done, and told you even though the injury looked worse than it actually is, you had take it easy for a couple of days.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, “How’re you feeling, love?” he asked quietly. You nodded, “I’m okay.” He came up to you and raised his hand to caress your cheek. But before he could touch you, your head turned to the opposite side. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he asked you.

“Will you please look at me? What’s happened, precious?” as he caressed your hair.

“Why should I look at you, Harry? So you can tell me how careless I am, or how I’m not trustworthy?” you rasped quietly. For a minute he was unable understand what you were trying to say. Then flashbacks from your fight the other night came back rushing to him. The things he said to you, and how guilty he felt later. His words had left a huge impact than he thought they did.

He took your face in his hand with very much to little force, he had to tell you this, “Y/N y’have absolutely no idea for how sorry I am for that night-” but you didn’t let him complete.

“That’s only because I got into this accident.” You snapped. He shook his head rapidly, he saw you getting worked up over this. You’ve always been a little firecracker, and you never failed to tell him when he was being a dick or to defend yourself quite amazingly, he always loved that quality. Apropos, he couldn’t let you hurt yourself in this condition.

“First of all, please calm down-” he started, “don’t tell me to calm down, harry!” you raged. He hated himself for smiling when you’re clearly very upset. But for the past few days he had to witness you lie there lifeless which had taken a toll on his mental state. He loved the fact that you were awake, so you yelling at him was more of a reward than a punishment. You looked at him sharply and saw him not taking you seriously, this brought tears to your eyes.

You sniffled and looked away from him to rest your head against the pillows on the raised up side of your bed roughly. Harry’s small smile melted away as quickly as it appeared. He rubbed the side you almost banged to the pillow, “I’m so sorry, precious. I swear I did not mean anything I said.” He pleaded and took a seat down on the chair beside you.

Right then the nurse which pushed him out of the room the other day and now was much like a friend to him entered the room with a tray which had a bowl of soup and jello in it. Harry smiled at him gratefully and took the tray from him as the guy set up the table on your bed.

“How’re you feeling, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked once he was ready to leave. You gave him a small smile and said you were feeling better. The moment he left Harry looked back at you with a longing look on his face, when you refused to look at him he sighed and set the tray down on the small table and took a seat in front you on the bed. He looked at you as he removed the metal spoon from its cover, and then went on to remove the cover set on top of the soup. He blew light air on the spoonful of soup, then brought it up to your mouth. You refused to touch it. He sighed and looked at you pleadingly, “Y’ know someone told me we shouldn’t remove our anger on food.” He stated, turning your words against you.

You glared at him in anger for minute as he looked at you with a loving smile. “Please?” He moved it closer to your mouth, “You’ve got to eat it, I’m not budging unless you do, Y/N.”

Even though you wanted to stay stubborn, you were kind of hungry. So you let him feed you the soup. When he got to the jello, you refused profoundly. “But it’s the chocolate flavoured one! Remember the time we used to share one when I was here for my fractured foot? C’mon we’ll share this one too, if y’want?” he tried convincing you with his soft eyes.

“I don’t want to share it with you. Actually, I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment to be completely honest.” you snapped. You were aware of the fact that you were being very unreasonable and bitchy but it was his words that has caused extreme hurt to you. Your words hurt Harry, and it was evident on his face. He wrapped up the jello and cleared everything. The day passed, and in the evening your last visitor entered the room.

“There she is!” Louis came up to you and hugged you lightly, making sure not to hurt you. “Hello, darling. How’re you?” he kissed your forehead. Harry left you alone with him as he went to get the two of them some coffee.

“What’s happened to him? Why the long face still? I mean I get that Harry loves to pretend that he’s this macho man and all. S’ a bit ridiculous to be honest. Like who’s he kidding, he’s a puppy.” Louis laughed. You smiled at this.

“I’m still a bit upset with him over our fight. So I haven’t been talking to him.” You explained. Louis frowned at this and then sighed, “Oh love don’t do that... This has been very tough for him. Should’ve seen his state these past few days. The man has been a mess ever since the officers came to your house that night.”

“I’m trying, Lou. But I just can’t forget all the things he said. I was so hurt, I still am!” you rubbed your forehead, as it was beginning to give you an ache.

“He’s very sorry, Y/N. Trust me when I say that I’ve never seen him like I saw him that day. He just wanted you to wake up. He was just blaming himself, how he shouldn’t have let you leave the house.” He took a hold of your hand, “he loves you so much, darling. He’s absolutely mad over you.” He rubbed your hand, “A’bit obsessed if you ask me. If I were you I’d have him get that checked with a therapist.” He joked, you laughed loudly. He smiled with you, and passed you the water you signalled for.

“Forgive him, Y/N. He can’t even bring himself to go home. The only time he went there was to get some clothes, and to put the dinner he made for you in the rubbish bin.” He sassed. “and I know I’m speaking for Mitch too here when I say this, but both him and I could use a break from all the non-stop stress weeping calls we’ve been getting from him.” You gasped at him with a mock offence for Harry, and lightly smacked his shoulder. You were always thankful for Louis in moments like these. He was a great friend to you and Harry.

Harry came back with two coffees and passed one to his blue-eyed friend. He took a seat on the sofa which was against the wall, and the three of you, though it was mostly you and Louis, had a light conversation while the men finished up their coffee. Louis bid his farewell with another kiss on your forehead and a well wish, you thanked him and waved goodbye. Harry walked him out the door, and came back in a second later.

“Y’ need anything?” He asked as he took a seat on the chair beside you. You shook your head as you observed him fidgeting with the cuticles of his nails. He did that when he was anxious.

Neither of you spoke for a while. But the minute you heard a sniffle, you snapped your head towards him. You tried to get a look at his face, the tip of his nose was a bit red and he was now fidgeting with his feet too. He wasn’t crying but he sure was on the verge of it.

You suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. You leaned against your bed and sighed, smiling a little. It’s pathetic how in love you were with each other. You couldn’t even stay mad at him.

“Harry?” You whispered softly. He hummed without looking up. So you continued, “I need you to do something” you faked a stern voice to play with him a bit more.

“Yeah sure, what’s it?” he muttered as he got up and rubbed his hands down his thighs, then finally looked at you. You looked at him without an expression and said, “I need you to come here and give me a good cuddle, a kiss too if I like the cuddle.” And then smiled at him lovingly. He looked at you for a second. You almost thought he was  going to yell at you, but the opposite happened. He started tearing up and heavy tear drops ran down his cheeks.

You gasped and quickly leaned forward to take a hold of his hand which was near you. “Oh Harry..” You whispered as you pulled him near you. He the minute you sat him in front of you, he started crying heavily. You were so shocked yet you’ve never been more mesmerised by him. You quickly tried wiping his tears away and comforted him, “Honey, don’t cry. I’m not upset anymore!”

“I-I’m honestly s-sorry! I promise I didn’t mean what I said that day, Y/N!” he tried to speak while wiping his tears.

“I know, babe. I know!” you tried to say it properly but it came out in a laughing manner and tried to draw the crying man close to you, but seeing you laugh made him more upset and he pushed you away lightly, so you forcefully pulled him into a cuddle.

He told himself he’s letting himself be pulled because he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was actually because he wanted you close, so he went in head first. You lay down against the pillows and cuddle him against your chest. He went on sniffling into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Harry why are you crying!” you tried controlling your laughter. He whined and pulled his face away, “Y’were so fucking mean since the moment you woke up. I didn’t expect it.” He said and hiccupped, thanks to the sobbing breakdown he just had. You pulled on your lips so you wouldn’t smile.

“Well now you know, honey. It hurts, doesn’t it? You were so mean to me too!” You teased. He nuzzled back into your neck, pressing kisses there which always made you giggle.

“I’m really sorry, precious. Honestly, I really am.” He said into your neck, yet producing another hiccup. You couldn’t control yourself anymore so you smiled and pressed a quite a few smooches to his temple, and inhaled his comforting scent.

“It’s okay, baby. I forgive you. I’m sorry for my foolish mistake too, I really didn’t mean to ruin your hard work like that.” You apologised. He pulled away and brought the hand that was around your waist to your cheek and said, “I forgave you a long time ago, but you honestly don’t have to apologise at all. It could happen to anyone, m’love. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Y’know I made dinner and everything as an apology. But then the officers…” his tone dropped and he couldn’t continue. So, you sadly smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

He sighed and reciprocated the kiss with so much love and passion that you couldn’t help but wrap the arm which around his shoulder a bit more tighter and ran the other through the back of his head gently. The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes, he moved the hair that escaped from your braid and tucked it behind your ear, “I was so scared. I thought I had lost you.” He whispered softly, and swallowed the small lump, “I missed you a lot, baby” he said and you couldn’t help but peck his cute pout.

“I missed you too, froggy” you replied. The pet name made him reward you with a dimpled smile. He nuzzled into your neck and whispered, “I love you.”

“and I love you.” You kissed his forehead.

“Just for your information, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a really long time.” He stated sternly.

You laughed but stopped when you saw he wasn’t joking, “You know I have to work, right?”

“Y’can easily take a break for a month or two.” He said, as he yawned and cuddle closer to you. “A MONTH OR TWO?! Have you gone mad?” you gasped, lightly pulling on his hair.

“No I haven’t. Try to get rid of me, baby. I dare you.” He laughed a scheming laugh. You knew he wasn’t joking. He tended to become quite paranoid and obsessive over you when situations like these occur. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We’ll see, mister.” You said, and caressed the back of his head.

“oh we will, missus.”

The End.

Author’s Note: I really put in a lot of efforts on this one, so you guys kind of owe me *wink* y'all gotta humour my praise kink now!!! ;P

Love you guys! 

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harrystyles #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles one shot #harry angst #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #daddy harry #daddy harry imagines #harry feels #boyfriend!harry #one shot #in-the-name-of-styles #1d imagines #1D Harry Styles #original #harry styles fluff #angst #1d angst #harry styles writings #HES #harry styles fanfic #my writing #harry au #harry styles fic #sub!harry #harry styles imagines

[viking-raider]

Southern Generation - Part II

Summary: Working for Lily is going well for Sy, but he wants her to meet a special lady in his life, and manages to get her out of the house.

Pairing: Syverson/OFC

Word Count: 5,698

Rating: PG - Language, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Angst

Inspiration: An old fic I wrote and wanting to write a Sy fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you to @wondersofdreaming​

“You've been getting here more early than usual.” Lily commented, handing Sy his usual morning coffee as he arrived on the property. “You fly here like Superman or something?”

She teased him as she sat down on the brand new porch swing that Sy had built with the scrap lumber from the porch and siding.

Sy laughed and leaned back against the porch railing. “No, I've been staying at the Sunway Motel in Celina.” He confessed, crossing his ankles. “I've been too tired to drive back to Austin most days, I don't want to fall asleep at the wheel or anything. So, I've been crashing there to keep it safe, and it just makes getting back here a sight easier, than a three-hour drive.” He told her, shaking his head.

“One-way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lily frowned, offended to hear it.

“Well, I don't want you paying that out of your pocket.” He replied, frowning back at her. “It's not a big deal for me.”

“I do technically pay you to stay there, Sy.” Lily answered, shaking her head at him.

“True.” He nodded, staring at the tips of his boots. “But, I also have a Military paycheck.” He informed her. “Again,” He sighed, pressing his lips together. “I didn't want you paying for something I can pay myself. You buy enough things as is.”

“Well, I would have offered to pay for it.” She started, folding her legs. “But, I also would have offered you one of my guest rooms.”

Sy blinked at her, he hadn't expected that from her, it seemed a bit toward. That thought made him paused, blinking at himself. Did Austin 'Fuck and eat you out til you can't walk' Syverson just have an abstinent thought.

Holy fuck, I did! He thought, staring at her.

And it wasn't because Sy wasn't attracted to her, because he very much was.

She was a beautiful young lady. The way her eyes lit up, every time she smiled, even when she was being shy. She came just to his shoulder. Her hair looks so silk and soft, that it took everything in Sy's power not to reach out and caress his fingers through it to find out just how pillow-y soft it was. She was dainty, but had curves in all the right places, for Sy to hold onto her. He bit the inside corner of his lip, thinking about gripping those hips of hers and kneading them in his big mitts, to rub up against that plump, heart shaped ass, to grab or bury his face in those matching breasts.

Sy cleared his throat and took a deep gulp of his cooling coffee, praying his growing erection wasn't too obvious to her.

What a way to ruin it, Syverson. He berated himself, trying to rein himself back in.

“Anyway,” She said, breaking the silence and getting up off the swing. “The offer stands, if you want it.” She told him, and went back inside.

He stayed there long after she had gone upstairs to her office to start her own workday, even after his coffee cup was empty. He turned around, setting the empty cup on the railing and watched the sun slowly climb higher into the sky, before sighing and getting back to work, siding the back portion of the house; thinking he might start working on the roof next. Since Spring was due soon and the weatherman said it would be a cold and rainy one.

“I'm going to be late tomorrow.” Sy said, that afternoon.

“Okay.” Lily smiled, taking up his empty lunch plate and turned towards the sink. “Everything okay?” She asked, turning the faucet on to do them and the ones from breakfast.

“Everything's great.” Sy smiled, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

“I've never seen you smile so big, since we met.” She teased him, chuckling.

“I made a friend in Baghdad.” He explained, giddy. “She's finally over here in the States, so I need to pick her up at the airport.” He was excited about getting Aika again, even more so for Lily to meet her.

“I want you to meet her.” He added.

Lily's stomach clenched hearing him talk about whoever she was, a bit down to find out he apparently had someone special in his life. “I look forward to it.” She said, focusing on the plate in her hand.

“Great!” He beamed, getting up from the table. “I'm sure the two of you will be two peas in a pod!” He said, heading out the back door to finish his work.

“Totally.” Lily sighed, frowning to herself.

The next day, Lily was a complete wreck about meeting Sy's friend.

She had tossed and turned all night, barely getting any sleep as she kept thinking about the meet. She knew the woman was going to be gorgeous, why wouldn't she be, if Sy had been so excited about her being in the States and she was able to capture the attention of his ocean blues. Eventually, Lily got out of bed, tired of not finding a comfortable position and peace of mind to fall asleep. Besides, knowing her luck, she'd be subjected to dreaming about meeting the lady and all her, super model glory.

So, she padded down to her office and flipped on her computer, deciding to get her day started early and finish the few projects she had going on with a couple of clients. But, not even that helped her forget about the situation, if anything it made it worse, her leg impatiently bouncing to the tune of her agitation and self-pity. Running a hand through her hair for the hundredth time, before putting it back up, yet again, she huffed and stood up, pacing the floor of her office, from the window to the door, and back, biting her fingernails and mumbling to herself.

“Why would you even have the remotest chance with a guy like Austin Syverson?” She berated herself, yet again. “Good lord, look at the man! He's an actual man and you've never even kissed a boy. He's the whole package and you're just full of baggage. This is definition of friend zoned, and you bloody well know it!”

Sy had driven back to Austin after leaving Lily's place the night before. He was so excited to retrieve Aika from quarantine. It felt like an age since they last saw each other, but not as long as it might have felt, if he hadn't had Lily for company and the work on the farm to do, day in and day out.

“Fuck,” He huffed, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. “I really hope the two of them get along.” He mumbled to himself, fidgeting in his seat. “Maybe, I should have told her about Aika. What if she's allergic to dogs, or doesn't even like them?” He questioned, suddenly doubting himself. “I know she likes horses, but a dog isn't a horse, and the horse isn't on her property.” He glanced at his mobile phone in the passenger seat, questioning if he should just call Lily and tell her he's bringing his dog to the farm, for her to meet.

“No.” Sy shook his head, brushing it off. “It'll be fine. This will be great! They'll get along perfectly and it'll be a happily ever after.” He nodded, pushing himself to be positive as he pulled into the facility to pick Aika up. “Captain Austin Syverson, here for my dog, Aika.” He told the lady at the front desk, then signed the release paperwork, while they brought her out to him.

“Hey, girl!” Sy called, as Aika charged for him. “Oh, I've missed you so much, bug!” He said, rubbing her erect ears and scratched down her back, making her back leg go wild. “I've got someone special I want you to meet.” He said, getting the German Shepherd into his truck. “You're going to love her.” He smiled at Aika, who licked his scruffy cheek.

“And she's probably going to spoil you rotten.” He chuckled, pulling out of the parking space.

“Oh shit.”

Lily gulped seeing the kicked up dust cloud on the driveway, as Sy's truck approached the house and felt her heart stop, knowing at any moment, she would be meeting his special lady in a matter of minutes. She had been trying all morning to put on a brave and supportive face, not wanting to make herself look like a fool in front of them. “I can't do this.” She gulped, running into the bathroom upstairs and vomited into the bowel several times, before quickly brushing and rinsing her mouth out.

“Afternoon, Lily!” Sy yelled, getting out and giving her a wave as she stepped out onto the porch, he was positively beaming. “You ready to meet her?” He asked, gripping the handle of the passenger door.

“Yep!” She called back, forcing a smile. “As I can be.” She mumbled under her breath as Sy opened the door.

A bark filled the humid air and a big German Shepherd jumped out of the truck, jumping on Sy a few times, before noticing Lily and bee-lining for her.

“Oh.” Lily gasped, surprised that Sy's special lady, was a dog. “Hey.” She grinned at Aika, bracing herself has Aika put her paws on her chest. “Aren't you a beauty.” She said, scratching her erect ears and relieved beyond all belief.

“See, I told you the two of you would get along.” Sy said, stepping up on the porch, relieved as well.

“That you did.” Lily agreed. “What's her name?” She asked, looking up at him.

“Aika.” He replied, scratching Aika all over. “I found her as a stray during my last deployment, she was just a pup. So, I took her in and took care of her. She's been stuck in Quarantine since before I got back, and they just released her today.” He explained as Aika bolted off the porch and zoomed around the front yard.

“You don't mind me having her here, do you?” He asked, biting the corner of his lip.

“Are you kidding?” Lily laughed, watching Aika disappear in the tall grass. “She's more than welcomed here.” She assured him, with a sweet smile. “Any time.”

“She's not really used to grass.” Sy laughed, as Aika attempted to pee on every blade she could. “You might get a few holes as well.” He added, knowing the Shepherd's like to dig.

“Please, I doubt anyone will notice.” Lily giggled, looking around the neglected yard.

Sy went to work on his latest project on the property and Aika spent most of the day running around the land, investigating what Sy was up to or lounging on the floor in Lily's office upstairs. Lily sighed and rubbed her face as the phone downstairs in the kitchen rang. She pushed back in her office chair and carefully stepped over Aika, to pad down the small set of stairs that led directly into the kitchen from the upstairs.

“Hello?” She chimed, pressing the receiver to her ear with her shoulder, waving at Sy as he passed the kitchen window and rounded the side of the house, then frowned, when no one answered her greeting. “Hello?” She repeated, a little bit louder. “Are you there?” She asked, checking to make sure the call was connected properly.

“What's wrong?” Sy frowned, stepping into the kitchen as the receiver fell to the floor at their feet.

“Nothing.” She squeaked, quickly bending to pick it up. “Just being clumsy.” She told him, hanging the phone up.

“Well, who was it?” He asked, tilting his head at her strange behavior.

“I don't know.” She replied, shrugging her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair, not turning around to look at him. “They never said anything. Must have been a wrong number or something.” She told him, heart thundering in her chest. “I need to finish my work.” She said, then rushed upstairs, leaving Sy staring up after her.

“I talked to your neighbor, Billie Marlowe.” Sy said, tugging a cloth out of his back pocket and wiped his face and head with it.

“Oh?” Lily replied, stirring a bit of honey into her tea.

“Yeah, he said, his daughter, Skylar, would be competing in a barrel racing competition this Sunday, in Dallas.” He told her, studying her carefully. “I was wondering, if you had thought about, maybe, going with me?” He asked, licking his lips.

Lily froze, the container of liquid creamer hovering over her steaming cup as she stared across the table at him, eyes wide. “I-”

“Oh, come on.” Sy pressed, brow creasing. “It's my treat. I'll drive and everything. It'll do you some good to leave the house.” He tried coaxing her. “Just for an hour or two.”

Lily continued to stare at Sy, her hand growing sweaty around the plastic container, before she set it down, her shoulders slumping as she did. “All right. Only for a few hours, then we come back. I have a deadline.”

Sy burst into a grin, his blue eyes bright. “Great.” He said, rubbing his hands together. “It doesn't start until eight and her competition doesn't start until eight-thirty. So, we'll have plenty of time.” He told her, excited to go to the fair with her.

Three days later, Sy got Lily in the car and they drove forty-five minutes from Celina to Dallas. The first few minutes in the car was quiet, until Luna's nerves got the best of her.

“When was the last time you went to a fair?” She asked, looking at him.

“Oh, man.” Sy huffed, frowning out the windshield as he considered it. “I think I was sixteen, it was an end of the year thing for my Junior year at high school. I didn't go to my Senior one, since I was getting ready for basic training.” He told her.

“What about you?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Never.”

“You've never been to one?” Sy snapped, shocked.

“Nope.” She shook her head at him.

“Not even for school?”

“I was home schooled.” She explained. “My dad thought they were a suck and waste of money.”

“That's the point.” Sy laughed, shaking his head. “Wasting money on artery clogging food and probably unsafe rides. It's a rush, but mostly from all the sugar.” He grinned at her, amused.

“You'll love it, I swear.”

“I'll take your word for it, Captain.” Lily smiled back, hoping he didn't see how freaked out she was.

They finally reached the fair grounds and a place to park, Sy got them all access bracelets, so giddy as they entered the fair grounds. Lily took several deep breaths as the crowd around them thickened and stuck close to Sy. She really didn't want to ruin Sy's fun at the fair, he had been jabbering about it since she agreed to go with him, telling her about the all fun rides and food. He was like a little boy, reliving his first fair experience, and she knew it had been over ten years since he had been to one. So, she put on a brave face and tried to smile, every time he glanced at her.

Which was every few seconds.

Sy and Lily got on several rides to kill the half hour until the barrel-racing competition started under one of the big tents set up in the huge field. She rather enjoyed the Ferris wheel, just her and Sy in one seat, spaced out from everyone else on the ride. She did think she was going to throw up on the sudden drop ride, but managed to keep it down, making Sy laugh at her as he saw her face from the corner of his eye as the two of them got off the ride.

“You all right?” He chuckled, resting his hand on the small of her back.

“I think, my stomach is somewhere between my brain and my toes.” She chuckled, despite herself.

“It'll even out again.” Sy laughed with her, rubbing her back.

“Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls,” the fair announcer came over the intercom system throughout the fair. “The Barrel-Racing Competition is due to start in ten minutes, in tent number six! So, find your seats now!” He informed the herd of fair-goers.

“Oh, we should head out that way.” Sy said, pulling out the little fair map and directed them towards the tent. “Why don't you find us a place to sit and I'll go get us something to munch and sip on.” He told her, at the tent's entrance.

“Sy..”

“It'll take two minutes.” He told her, squeezing her shoulder, then disappearing into the crowd that was trying to funnel into the tent.

“Fuck, Austin.” Lily gulped, starting to tremble as she turned into the tent and looked for somewhere to sit, before finding a place in the second row, near the exit.

Sy weaved around the countless people in the main walkway of the fair, before spotting a food vendor with something he thought Lily would love to try out and headed that direction, to standing in line. He was only in the line for a moment, when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see who it was, breaking out into a smile.

“Mr. Marlowe.” He greeted the farmer, sticking his hand out to the other man.

“Please, just call me Billie.” Marlowe replied, smiling up at Sy and shook his hand.

“Sy.” Sy answered. “You must be excited to see your little girl compete.” He said, as they stood side by side and progressed through the line.

“That I am.” Billie beamed, like the proud papa he was. “I am surprised at you though.” He added, pulling off his John Deere hat, ran his hand through his short, salt and pepper hair, and rubbed the over-tanned skin of his neck.

“Why's that?” Sy frowned, shaking his head.

“I saw Ms. Lily with you.” Billie replied as they got to the counter. “My farm has been in my family for four generations. I knew the couple that lived at Ms. Lily's place, when I was a lad. They passed away and their kids didn't want to be farmers, so they sold the place and Ms. Lily bought it a few years back. In that time, I have never seen her leave the property. The closest I've ever seen was when she fetches the mail, and she does that in a jiffy.” He laughed, stepping up to one of the two cashiers, while Sy went to the other.

“What do you mean?” Sy frowned, then gave the cashier an order for two elephant ears, a coke for himself and a Dr. Pepper for Lily.

“Oh.” Billie frowned, realizing Sy had no clue.

“'Oh', what?” Sy pressed, annoyed.

“You don't know about Ms. Lily being Agoraphobic?” Billie asked slowly, blinking at Sy with a shocked look. “I thought you knew. Practically everyone in Celina knows about it. My boy, Travis, who works at the Celina supermarket, even gets her groceries for her and delivers them, and everything.”

Sy floundered, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. “I didn't.” He sighed, clearing his throat. “I just thought she was a home-body.” He said, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose she is a home-body, it's just a bit more complicated than that.”

He felt silly, all of the signs were there, right in front of his oblivious face. He had never seen her leave the property in the weeks he was there working. She was always, either, in the house or on the porch, the furthest from the house he had ever seen her was the mailbox. She got clearly anxious about any mention of leaving to go anywhere, and her car hadn't moved since the first time he saw it in the dirt driveway. Everything made so much sense to him now, with the sudden realization he had left her, alone, in a tent full of complete strangers.

“Shit!” He barked, taking the food and drinks and rushing back to the tent. “Are you okay?” He asked, as soon as he found her in the crowded stands.

“Other than starving, I'm all right.” She replied, looking up at him.

“You're sure?” He asked and sat down beside her, he could see the tremble in her shoulders. “You're shaking.” He pointed out, his brow creasing with concern.

Why did I push her into this! He berated himself mentally.

“I'm just cold.” She frowned back, which wasn't a complete lie, it was rather nippy out and she had left her jacket in the truck.

“Oh.” Sy gulped at her, setting their snacks down on the empty bench in front of them and peeled off his Five Finger Death Punch hoodie. “Here.” He said, handing her the toasty warm garment.

“Thanks.” She blushed, pulling it on.

The comforting warmth of the fabric settled around her, wrapping her up in Sy's scent of dark vanilla, the fresh cut pine boards he had been working with, fresh air and patchouli, from his beard oil. The tremor vibrating through her body instantly subsided as she huddled herself up inside Sy's hoodie, suddenly feeling safe, safer than she had ever felt in her life before, the murmur of the crowd vanished and everyone melted away, but Sy.

Sy smiled at her, watching as she stopped shaking. “Are you still hungry?” He asked her, picking up the heavy paper plate with the lumpy and sweet pastry dough on it, covered in butter, cinnamon and brown sugar.

“What in the world is that?” She frowned down at it.

“It's called an Elephant Ear.” He chuckled, letting her take the plate from him and picked up his own. “It's delicious.”

“It's as big as one!” She chuckled, balancing it in her lap and pushed up the oversized sleeves of Sy's hoodie, not wanting to get it messy as she tore a piece of the dough off and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm.” She melted, licking her coated lips. “That is sinful.” She moaned, smiling over at Sy, who simply folded his and took a massive bite out of it.

“I told you!” He mumbled around his mouthful, grinning ear to ear.

“I might have to learn how to make these.” Lily said, tearing off a bigger piece and licked her fingers clean of the cinnamon and sugar combination.

“Oh, don't threaten to spoil a man!” Sy laughed, gently touching his shoulder to hers.

“Hey, here she is!” Lily called out, pointing to the girl entering the center of the tent atop a horse. “They look so good together!” She grinned, beaming with her own dose of pride in Skylar and Juniper.

Lily lifted her hand and waved as Skylar looked out over the crowd, she spotted Lily and waved back at her, smiling. Skylar got herself and Juniper into position, taking deep breaths to try and settle her jittery nerves and focus on her task ahead. Skylar was given the signal and she was off, speeding as fast as she and Juniper could go towards the first barrel in front of them. Lily scooted towards the edge of her seat, her half eaten elephant ear forgotten in her excitement. Skylar seemingly sailed through the cloverleaf pattern she had to make around the barrels and back to her mark.

The crowd clapped as she went out, letting the next rider and their horse take their turn at the competition. Lily finished off her elephant ear and sipped at her Dr. Pepper, eyes glued to the beautiful horses and focused riders as they went around and around the barrels, kicking up dirt as they went.

“I really hope she wins.” Lily said, looking at Sy, only to realize he had been watching her the whole time, and not the racers. “What?” She squeaked, eyes wide. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No.” He smiled back, then chuckled. “Well..” He picked up the paper napkin he was given with the elephant ears and gently brushed off a line of brown sugar and cinnamon that Lily had on her cheek. “Just a little sugar.” He told her, softly.

“But, other than that, you're...” He paused for a moment. “Perfect.” He whispered, breathlessly.

Lily gulped and her cheeks warmed, biting the inside of her lip and fidgeted inside Sy's hoodie. “Thank you.” She mumbled back. “For the..” She motioned to her cheek, shyly.

“Of course.” Sy nodded, a tender smile on his lips. “But, I hope she wins too.” He added, turning back to the event.

“All right everybody, it's time to announce the winners for first, second and third place!” The announcer said, standing in the middle of the racing area, a microphone in his hand and a big cowboy hat on his head, as his boots shined with their spurs.

Lily crossed her fingers, making Sy chuckle at her.

“In third place is,” the announcer said, lifting a clipboard he was holding. “Paige Whitley with thirty-four seconds!”

The crowd clapped and whistled as the girl came up and took her ribbon for third place, then stood to one side of the announcer.

“In second place is, Ainsley Ortega with twenty-eight seconds!”

Another round of claps, whistling and yells from the crowd as she took her place beside Paige. There was a moment of pause and the suspense was starting to drive Lily stir crazy as they waited for him to announce the first place winner.

“and the first place winner of the Dallas Heritage Fair is,” He paused for a dramatic affect. “Skylar Marlowe with twenty-one seconds!”

“Yes!” Lily shouted, her arms flying up as she bounced in her seat, overjoyed. “She did it, Sy.” She grinned at him, throwing her arms around his neck, in her moment of overzealous excitement, forgetting herself.

“She did.” Sy grinned, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her back.

He unconsciously turned his face into her hair and took a deep breath, smelling her Lavender and Rosemary shampoo in it. They stayed like that, in a timeless bubble, before they recalled themselves and pulled apart again.

“I'm sorry, I was excited.” Lily blushed, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Same.” Sy replied, clearing his throat. “I should get you back home now, it's been two hours.” He said, picking up their empty plates, napkins and soda cans, standing.

“I-” Lily froze, watching him dump them into a trash bin nearby. “I don't—mind—staying another hour, if you're not.” She told him, a hard lump in her throat. “I mean, there's so much of the fair I haven't seen, since it's my first time, and you spent a pretty penny on our access bracelets.” She said, lifting her arm, the sleeve of his hoodie slipped down her arm, revealing her red bracelet.

“Be rude and a shame to waste it, don't you think?” She asked, staring at him, shyly.

Sy studied her for a moment, weighing what he knew of her now, but she looked and seemed all right, for the most part, just her usual shy and withdrawn self. “If you want too, Lily. Then, I'm more than all right with staying and showing you the rest of the booths.” He said, his voice soft and—protective.

“I would like that.”

Sy smiled at her, gently, then offered her his arm, which she took. He escorted them out of the tent, with the rest of the fair-goers. Sy took her around the fair ground, stopping at booths that Lily showed interest in. He paused at one booth, seeing all the stuffed animals that were hanging around it and pressed his lips together, before glancing at her and deciding to give it a shot, wanting to win something for her, so when she saw it, she'd remember the fun she had at the fair; and think of him.

It was a shooting game booth, giving the player a minute to hit as many targets as they could, each target was worth a certain amount of points and moved quickly. But, Sy wasn't at all worried, this was his element, his military career made something like this easy. So, he took up the bee-bee rifle that the booth runner gave him, slotted it against his shoulder and held it through pure muscle memory. He patiently waited for the signal for him to start, watching the painted metal targets move on their tracks.

“Ready!” the booth runner called, standing to the side. “Set! Go!”

Sy's body instantly tensed and he started firing, his movement was sharp, quick and calculated, hips and shoulders pivoting as he hit each of the targets, only missing two in the full minute he had. Lily stood beside him, fully impressed by his skill.

“Seven hundred and forty-nine points.” the booth runner read off the scoreboard at the back of the booth. “That's the highest score yet!” He said, impressed himself. “You have a pick of whatever you want, sir.” He told Sy, motioning around to the stuffed animals, some were super teeny, while others were nearly Lily's size.

Sy surveyed the selection of stuffed animals, before a certain one caught his attention and smiled at it, it was perfect for why he wanted it. “That's the one.” He said, pointing out the medium sized, curly furred and light tan, teddy bear.

“A perfect choice, sir.” the booth runner praised him, taking it down and handing it over to Sy.

“Here.” Sy smiled, turning and holding it out to Lily. “He's for you.” He told her, gently, as his heart thundered in his chest.

Lily slowly took the bear from him, it was silk soft and plush, it felt nice under her hands, making her instantly smile as she stared down at it. She was touched that Sy had gone through the trouble of winning the game to get her a prize, no one had ever done something so kind, sweet and thoughtful for her before, it made her a bit emotional.

“Thank you.” She whispered, hugging it to her chest and looked up at Sy. “I love it.” She assured him, seeing the concern in his blue eyes that she wouldn't.

“Good.” He beamed, his heart still thundering, but it felt light and hopeful. “I'm glad.”

It was nearly dark by the time Lily and Sy finished their tour of the fair grounds and headed back to the house. Lily convinced Sy to stay for dinner before he headed back home, wanting to thank him in someway for taking her to the fair and showing her such a good time, something she hadn't had in as long as she could remember.

“Your cooking never fails to amaze me.” Sy chuckled, popping the last bit of his biscuit into his mouth. “It's the definition of a great home cooked meal.” He praised her, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his lean tummy through the fabric of his shirt.

“Well, you have the appetite of a Viking.” She giggled back, blushing at her plate.

Sy laughed again, his own bearded cheeks coloring. “True enough.” He agreed, smiling brightly at her.

“Thank you for taking me today.” Lily said, speaking softly. “I really did have a lot of fun.” She confessed, shyly twisting her napkin in her hands, and thinking of the teddy bear that now took up a prized spot on her bed, upstairs.

“I did too, I'm glad you agreed to go with me.” Sy nodded, tilting his head at her. “Did us both a great deal of good to get out and do something fun.”

“I should let you take off, before it gets too late.” She answered, after a brief moment of silence. “I know it's a long drive.”

Sy cleared his throat, biting the inside of his lip, he didn’t want to bring up staying at the motel down in Celina, so the drive was easier to make and gave him more hours in the day to work on the seemingly endless list of projects that needed to be done, to get the farm back into running order, again. He didn’t want them to argue after such an amazing day.

But, he knew she was right.

“Thanks for dinner.” He said, taking his plate to the sink, wanting a reason to linger a second longer. “Good night, Ms. Lily.” He smiled at her, as they stepped out onto the porch. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“I'll be here, with coffee and breakfast waiting, as always.” She replied, standing barefoot on the smooth and solid board of the porch.

He chuckled, bidding her good night again and got into his truck. As he drove to the motel, he recalled all the smiles she had given him throughout the day and the sound of her victorious laugh, when she beat him at the ring toss game, but sweetly gave him the bracelet she won, making him glance at the macrame, blue and gold turquoise beads weaved with black thread and tied with a slip knot, that hugged his thick wrist. His skin tingled as it remembered the gentle touch of her dainty fingers as she slipped it over his hand to his wrist and tugged it secure.

Sy wasn't a jewelry person, other than his watch and his dog-tags, but for as long as he lived, he vowed to never take that bracelet off.

#Southern Generation #Southern Generation *Fic* #viking-raider fics #HenryCavill #Henry Cavill #captain syverson #Sand Castle #agoraphobia #fair #Syverson #Austin Syverson #Syverson/OFC #Syverson x OFC #Fluff #anxiety #social anxiety #barrel racing #Texas #Dallas #Celina #Austin #Hurt/Comfort #language #slow burn

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Burn For You

Word Count: 5856 Genre: Smut Rating: E Characters: Uchiha Madara, fem!Senju Tobirama, Uzumaki Mito (briefly) Ship: Uchiha Madara/Senju Tobirama Warnings: Unprotected Sex Author's Note: You can read it on my ao3 here! This was inspired by Burn For You by Abigail Barlow! It suits Tobirama and Madara really well, imo. Also, this was just fourteen pages of smut. I hope you all enjoy this! ━━━━━━━━━━━━ It all started with a confession.

“I burn for you.”

The admission had taken her off guard. She’d agreed to stay behind after a meeting, going over the development plans for the Nara clan to settle in the North Eastern part of the village outside of the gates so that their deer would have plenty of space to roam and not fear the wrath of hunters. Madara had additional ideas that needed to be looked at by a different pair of eyes- constructive criticism before presenting it officially to the council. The night had grown long, the candles burned so long that they were more melted wax than actual candles. She’d ended up sitting atop the table, her legs crossed as she read over Madara’s ideas, comparing them with her brother’s. Truth be told, Hashirama seemed to be distracted- his plans were barely finished, whereas Madara’s were completely finalized. It was nice to see work actually getting done.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I might just think you actually fancy me, Uchiha,” Tobirama had taunted, a smirk curling wine colored lips as she glanced over. However, unlike their normal banter, he hadn’t responded. “... That was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh now. Ha-ha.” She mumbled, lips turning down into a pout as she turned her gaze back to the papers.

“Senju.” His voice was soft, low- nearly resembling a growl as he stepped closer. Instinctually, her legs spread slightly, the cloth of her kimono parting with the movement, feet barely meeting the ground. Prepared to run, to bolt, Madara noticed. Or perhaps to fight, with how her hands gripped the edge of the table. “You’re a nuisance, you realize that, yes?”

“A nuisance?!” She exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise. “You've some nerve, calling me- what are you doing?” All heat vanished as he settled between her spread thighs, his hands braced upon the wood of the table on either side of her hips. “Madara, are you ill? Is something the matter?” A hand reached up to touch her wrist to his forehead to see if he’d come down with a fever, only for his hand to capture it-

And press a searing kiss to her wrist.

“I burn for you,” he murmured against the pale skin, lips brushing so gently, delicately- as if afraid that the mere movement would cause her pain. “I burn for you, day in and day out.”

“Madara-” her voice was barely above a whisper, chest rising and falling quickly as her heart began to race. When he looked up at her, her breath halted all together: three black tomoe stood out against ruby irises, yet she could not look away. Heat gathered in her cheeks- and lower, much lower, to her own embarrassment. “This is- inappropriate.” Even so, she did not pull her hand away.

She leaned closer.

That is, until the sound of footsteps approaching had Madara backing away, Tobirama cradling her wrist delicately as the door opened, revealing Mito. “Pardon the intrusion,” she murmured, giving a small bow. “My husband forgot his files, and instead of coming back himself, he sent me.” A sharp roll of the eyes showed her annoyance, even if her smile was soft.

“You could have told him to fuck off,” Tobirama stated simply, shoulders rising in a shrug.

Mito let out a bark of laughter at her sister-in-law. “I think that would have given him a heart attack!” Shaking her head, she flashed the pair a smile before turning on her heel. “Don’t work too late, you two.”

“We won’t,” Madara called after her, though his gaze was trained on Tobirama. The only way she could describe what she saw in his gaze was hunger. Pure hunger.

A fire had been started- and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to douse the flames, or fan them.

“We should… Head home for the night, yes?” Tobirama asked, scooting off of the top of the table to settle her feet on the floor once more, gathering her scrolls. She could sense Madara lingering behind her, yet he did not touch. His gaze was akin to their famed fireball jutsu, scorching the back of her neck. “Do get some rest, Madara.”

“You as well,” Madara murmured, though he made no move to follow her out of the door. Her footsteps were calm at first, until she was outside of the Hokage’s office. Only then did she sprint, pressing chakra into her legs to make her move faster, to get back to the Senju compound quicker. Alone, she needed to be alone to process what just occurred. ━━━━━━━━━━━━ That had been a fortnight ago. Ever since, she’d been busy overseeing the building of the Nara compound while Madara saw to his own clan, making sure they were comfortable as the Uchiha compound began to expand. And every night since, her thoughts had been consumed with the feeling of his lips against her skin, his gaze boring into her own, the feeling of his hips settled between her thighs-

A sharp shake of the head causes wild snowy locks to sway with the movement. Not now, not while she’s reading reports. Even so, her foot tapped on the floor, a movement that spoke volumes of her unease, her need to get up, to demand to know why he’d done it. His office was across from her own. All she’d need to do is rise from her desk, walk across the hall, and demand an answer.

Burn for you.

The words held weight, especially for an Uchiha- known for their innate ability to control fire. To burn for someone is to be completely overwhelmed by the flames of passion, of lust. To think only of them.

Her thighs pressed together beneath her desk.

“Fuck,” she groaned, leaning back in her chair, head flopping back as her eyes closed. This was annoying, she decided. A nuisance. Yet, the Uchiha had kept her thoughts entertained. The night prior had been spent with her face pressed to her pillow, her hand between her thighs, working herself over and wishing it had been something much thicker.

The current bane of her existence knocked on the door before opening it, his gaze settled upon the paper he held. “Did you know that Hashirama put in for an expansion of the Senju compound?” He asked, annoyance clear in his voice as Tobirama forced herself to focus.

“I had no idea,” she replied dryly, her brow furrowing. “We don’t need more space. We’ve got plenty already.” Her gaze drifted, studying Madara for a moment. He wore no armor- they never did when in office. The summer yukata did little to hide what lay beneath.

Perhaps that was why her underlings were so distracted.

“Hm,” a sigh escaped his lips as he set the paper down onto her desk, only to pause for a moment. “Can we speak?”

“We’re speaking now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be a bit clearer.”

“About what I said.” Madara caved, shaking his head at the Senju. “It was uncalled for, and I was out of pocket-”

“Tonight,” Tobirama cut in, raising a hand, causing Madara to pause. “Meet me in my quarters tonight, and we will talk about what you said. Not now- I’m busy.”

“Busy.” He repeated, gaze trailing over the stack of papers to be signed. “Right. Tonight, then.”

“Tonight,” Tobirama agreed, her gaze never lifting from her paper. “You’re dismissed.”

“Dismissed?! I-”

“Out of my office, Uchiha.” She snapped, feeling a touch smug as Madara turned on his heel and marched out, all but slamming the door on his way out. A snort escaped her as she leaned back. Tonight, they would speak. Tonight, the truth would come out- one way or another.

The day had passed quickly, leaving her spinning in the aftermath. Tobirama drug a hand through her hair, down from it’s normal high ponytail, the wild, curling tresses free for once. Her footsteps carried her across the room in a quick pace, her heart a staccato beat within her chest. Any moment now, she’d be able to feel the familiar flicker of Madara’s chakra entering the compound. To the East, Mito sat with Hashirama- no doubt the pair beginning to bed down for the night.

There, at the southern edge- the flicker of warmth, of red-tinged chakra that felt like standing too close to a bonfire. Her breath skipped a beat as she turned, studying her reflection in the mirror across from her bed. The sleeping yukata did little to give modesty. In a last moment effort to try to compose herself, she snags a robe and quickly ties it around her waist.

The sound of footsteps had her turning, studying the door the moment before it opened, revealing Madara. “Right on time,” she commented idly as she reached back, pulling her hair out from beneath the robe, inadvertently causing the fabric of both robe and sleeping yukata to rise.

“I hope it’s not too late?” Madara asks, head tilting, gaze drifting to the pale skin that was revealed. The barest hint of red on those thighs- did the tattoos stretch that far down? “I’m afraid I was caught up in clan business.”

“Not too late at all,” Tobirama replies with a shake of her head. “Please, come in- close the door, too?” She adds as an afterthought, moving to where she’d set up sakazuki. Her room was nice- it got the morning sun, and the afternoon shade, causing it to be cooler compared to the other sections of the compound’s main house.

Madara walked over to the low table, settling down into an improper sitting position, crossing his legs. Tobirama settles across from him, easing herself into a polite seiza, though the yukata and robe part to reveal how her thighs press together. Such pale skin… “I’m surprised you would even want to meet to discuss what was said,” he commented idly, head tilting as his gaze tracked her movements; sake was poured first for him, and then for herself. “I’d figured you’d want to ignore it.”

“Why ignore it,” she asked as she raised her sakazuki to her lips, careful not to spill a single drop, “when it’s the truth for myself as well?”

Madara nearly choked on the sake- and not from the taste. “Pardon?” He asked, blinking rapidly. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“How did you phrase it?” Tobirama’s head tilts, her gaze narrowing, ruby hues settling upon Madara’s face- flushed, eyes wide, caught off guard. “I burn for you.”

“You burn for me?”

“I burn.”

“You… Burn,” he murmured, gaze growing heavy- hungry. “For me.”

“I burn, day in and day out,” she nodded, sipping her sake once more. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t envisioned you in my quarters.”

A moment of silence passed before Madara was reaching across the table, taking hold of the collar of her yukata to tug her over, their lips meeting in a kiss that was equally teeth and lips. Biting, hungry, her hands reached up to tangle in wild dark locks, tugging none-too-gently. A groan spilled free from Madara as he pulled back, her lip caught between his teeth in a gentle bite before he released her.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve pictured this moment,” his words were barely above a growl as Tobirama rose to her feet, the robe discarded, the collar of her yukata disheveled, baring a pale collarbone and shoulder. “How many times I’ve thought of you in my own quarters.”

“I think mine are more comfortable,” she teases as she settles atop his lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her nails gently scraping at the back of his neck. “After all, my bed is made to fit… Multiple.”

Multiple. Oh. Madara’s gaze grows distant as he envisions just what she insinuated for a moment, lips parting slightly. “Multiple.”

“Come now- you didn’t take me for a prude, did you?” She murmured, leaning in to kiss along his jaw, lips trailing up to his left ear. “After all, you just admitted that you’ve thought of me. Tell me, Madara- what have you thought of? What positions?” The shell of his ear is nipped before he reaches up, gripping her jaw to tug her head back.

“Do you truly want to know?” He asks, leaning back as if surveying her. His other hand reached up to brush her hair back from her face before his fingers began to drift, tracing the collar of her yukata slowly, gently nudging the fabric to cause it to fall back, baring more pale skin and red ink.

Such flimsy things, yukata.

“Senju Tobirama wants to hear how I’ve thought of her at night?” His fingers leave her jaw to brush knuckles gently against her cheek. “How I’ve thought of her on her knees beneath my desk, her lips around my cock? Or how I’ve pictured her laying on her back, pleasuring herself in front of me?” His lips quirked into a smirk as Tobirama whined softly at that, her eyes fluttering shut. “Or how I’ve spent so many nights picturing you laying beneath me, begging for my cock, begging for me to fuck you harder, faster?”

“Please,” she whispered, eyes opening into slits, her cheeks flushed. “My fingers could never be enough.”

Fingers. Her fingers? Oh- oh, a groan spilled free as he leaned in, stealing a kiss that had Tobirama’s head swimming. His hands smoothed down her back, pulling her closer, causing her to rise onto her knees. No words were exchanged as his hands slipped to grip her thighs, holding her up as he rose to his knees, then his feet.

Huh. Tobirama pulled back from the kiss to glance down at the floor for a moment. “... One day, take me against the wall.” She spoke quietly, as if to herself, though it got a chuckle out of Madara as he carried her to her bed.

It was large, he noted- larger than his own. “Anywhere you want,” he murmured as he settled her down, not bothering to part as his lips began to kiss and bite a scorching trail down her neck. “Your office, mine- my compound- wherever you want, just say the word.” A soft moan filled the air as his hand came up to settle atop her left breast, gently massaging through the fabric of the yukata. Her hands tangle in his hair as she keens, her eyes closed, head tilted back against the pillows. He pulled back long enough to make quick work of the tie that held the yukata together before parting the thin fabric, baring Tobirama to the chill of the room. She doesn’t cover herself.

No, her legs settle down against the silken sheets. Nothing beneath. Oh, she’d been prepared for this! The realization draws a chuckle from him as his hands smooth across her thighs, marveling at the way the red ink settles into her skin. Her chest- oh, how it encircles both breasts, ending in a circle in the center of chest. The bands around her biceps, encircling her shoulders, how they encircle her throat. That’s why she preferred the high mandarin collars. The ink stretches further down, encircling both thighs. His fingers trace their paths, drawing forth gentle shudders that dance across her skin.

“Beautiful,” Madara whispers, leaning down to press a kiss in the center of the circle that laid upon her chest. “Every inch.”

“Who knew you’d be a sap?” Tobirama teased, though the flush in her cheeks gave away how affected she was by his ministrations- and the slickness between her thighs.

She receives no verbal response; instead, he continues to kiss a trail lower, feeling her stomach tense beneath his lips. A smile curls them as he glances up, meeting her gaze the same moment his tongue lolls out, dragging a slow trail back up towards her chest. His lips enclose around her right nipple as his fingers begin to toy with the left, pinching gently the same time his teeth graze against the other.

“I always- oh- knew you had a thing for breasts,” Tobirama snickers before flinching at the swat he gave to her thigh. Huh. “What with how much you try to- watch your damned teeth-” another swat, though he pulls back from her breast, “-try to peek down my clothes.”

“What can I say?” Madara muses, a cheeky grin curling his lips as he leans in to steal a kiss, his hand soothing the area he’d swatted mere moments before. “I’m a simple man with simple likes.”

“Gross.”

“Fuck off.”

“Take your yukata off and I will,” Tobirama mutters, reaching out to drag her nails down the portion of his chest that was revealed. “I’ve always wondered if you’ve got the dick to back up how cocky you are.”

“You little shit,” he hissed, falling for her words as he made quick work of his yukata, leaving him in his undergarments- which hid nothing, Tobirama noted, her eyes widening in surprise. “Ha! See? I can actually back my shit- oh,” whatever he’d intended to say died on his tongue as Tobirama had reached out, palming at him through his underwear, her eyes wide in curiosity.

Wordlessly, she sat up, gaze intense as she leaned in to lick a slow line down the center of his abdominals- a mirror of what he’d done to her, he realized belatedly. “Lay down,” she murmured against the sensitive skin of his stomach. He obeyed, settling back against the large bed, hair spreading out beneath him like a dark halo. She went to crawl between his legs, only for Madara to grunt.

“No.”

A blink. “Why not?”

“Come here.”

“Wh- oh.” Realization struck, and her cheeks burned as she swallowed roughly. “Right,” carefully, as if afraid she’d somehow crush him, she crawled up and turned. It was an intimate position, one that she didn’t often find herself in with her previous partners, yet Madara didn’t complain. This way, it left them both open- vulnerable, but gave her the perfect angle to reach out and tug his underwear down far enough to free his cock. “... Are all the Uchiha built like this?” She asked, half joking as she gazed down at it.

She couldn’t lie- it wasn’t a bad dick. Not at all- no, it was veiny, but not outwardly awful to look at. Thick; the stretch would hurt, she had no doubt about that. But a part of her thrilled at the idea of the pain. A jolt danced through her, drawing forth a startled gasp at the feeling of his tongue licking a slow stripe up her slit. “No, we aren’t,” he finally answered as his hands raised, settling on her most intimate part and spreading her wide. “I’m just fuckin’ lucky.”

Her eyes rolled, but any retort she had died the moment his tongue pressed against her clit. Gaze closing, she enjoyed the feeling for a moment longer, hips grinding back against his mouth, moans spilling free. Damn him- he was talented. Perhaps the rumors she’d heard were true. Reaching out, she cupped his cock, giving a light stroke before leaning forward, tongue lolling out to give sweet kitten licks at the head, enjoying the way his thighs tensed at the feeling. Two could play at this game, she decided as she opened her mouth wider, taking the head in to suckle on.

Madara groaned against her, lips closed around her clit before he pulled back for a moment, letting his thumb circle her clit in quick, tight circles. “What, is it too big for you?” He teased, only to eat his words a moment later as wet heat encircled over half of his length-

And she swallowed around him. His head fell back against the pillows, a groan filling the room as she began to bob her head in earnest. His fingers didn’t pause, tormenting her clit. Neither would last like this, not with how pent up they were. And as tempting as it was to let her finish him off like this, or to have her finish against his mouth-

That could come another time.

“To-Tobirama, stop, stop,” he murmured, tapping her thigh gently to get her attention. One last slow lick is given before she lifts her head.

“What?” Was she not good? She hadn’t gotten any sort of complaints before, but there was certainly a first time for everything. Her answer was given the next moment as he rolled her off of him.

“As much as I’d love to continue this,” he mused, pushing himself up, his gaze drifting over her form, “I’d much rather have you coming around my fingers than my tongue. This time, at least.”

A shiver danced across her skin at the implication that there would be more than just this. That this wouldn’t be a simple one-night stand. A smile curled her lips as she adjusted herself, settling back against the pillows. Reaching out, she snagged his wrist and tugged him closer, pulling him in for a slow kiss, much more sensual than their initial- the heat still there, certainly, but no longer a fight of dominance. Her hand slipped beneath her pillows, retrieving the small glass vial of oil. “I’m sure you know what to do with this,” she murmured into the kiss, giving his bottom lip a nip.

A chuckle rumbled free from his chest as he plucked the vial from her grasp, settling back on his knees between her thighs. “I think I have an idea,” he agreed, uncorking the bottle with his teeth before letting the oil drizzle out over his fingers, coating two and letting a small stream drip onto her already-soaked cunt. With his clean hand, he replaced the cork before carefully setting the vial aside.

It might be needed again later.

His clean hand settled atop her thigh, massaging it as he eased a finger in, drawing a pleased gasp from Tobirama’s lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, cheeks a rosy hue as he crooked his finger, slowly drawing it back out before pushing back in- a slow pace. She was soaked- realistically, he didn’t believe she needed much prep, but he’d dreamed of this moment for too long to even consider speeding through this.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her left thigh while his right hand continued to work, thumb rubbing clockwise circles against her clit as a second finger eased in beside the first, stretching her out. She was relaxed, sure- but not enough, not to his standards. “Tobi,” he murmured, watching as her gaze fluttered open, brows draw inwards, lips parted to allow soft moans and whispers of “Yes,” and “right there,” to spill free. “Eyes on me,” the command had her tightening around his fingers, a pulse of arousal. He felt the shift when his Sharingan activated, the strain on the veins around his eyes and within as everything swam into a sharper view.

He wanted to remember this.

“The great Tobirama Senju, getting fucked by none of than Uchiha Madara- her sworn enemy,” he taunted, crooking his fingers up, pressing against the most sensitive part of her. A whine- loud, long- escaped, her thighs tensing on either side of him as his hand sped up suddenly. Wet, so very wet. “How lewd,” he crooned, giving her thigh a nip, enjoying the way the muscle jumped beneath his touch. “So fucking wet for me already- listen, Tobirama.”

“Sh-shut up,” Tobirama gasped, her hands gripping at her chest. Good, so good- she was drawing close. “Stop- ‘Dara, stop, too close,” she warned, but his fingers didn’t slow down. “Madara- oh, Madara, there, there, don’t-” her words cut off as her orgasm swept over her. Her head fell back against the pillows, snowy tresses spread about the dark sheets like a halo as she pulsed around his fingers, coating them and his hand.

A pleased hum rumbled free as Madara leaned down, pressing a kiss to her over-sensitive clit. “Good girl,” he murmured, giving it a lick, succeeding in drawing out a broken whine as his fingers withdrew. Sitting back, he reached out to grasp the vial once more to open it, using the remaining oil to slick his cock up. He gave it a few slow strokes, thumb drifting over the sensitive slit in the head to gather the bit of precum that had gathered.

“Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass,” Tobirama murmured, reaching out to take hold of one of Madara’s hands. “I’m anything but glass.”

“I’m aware,” he replied, scooting forward to settle his hips against hers. A groan fell from both at the sensation of his cock rutting against her cunt. “You’ve never been glass. Iron is a much better word to describe you,” murmuring, he took a moment to enjoy the sensation of being so close to her. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as his other guided his cock to her entrance. A slow push of his hips had the head slipping in, a gasp breaking free from Tobirama’s lips, her eyes squeezing shut at the intrusion.

Not made of glass, but still very much human.

The stretch was wonderful- the slight sting of pain eased by his thumb on her clit, by his hips slowly moving forward and not deciding to seat himself in her all at once. So much- almost too much, but she’d be the last to admit that. His hips settled against her own, his hand leaving hers to grip at her hips instead, thumbs rubbing small circles into the soft, unscarred skin. “Good,” she whispered, gaze opening to reveal hazy ruby hues. A moment passed as they both grew used to the sensation- her to how filled she felt, him to the wet heat that encased his cock. Curiously, she shifted her hips, a low moan leaving at the feeling of him moving within.

Madara took that as his sign, hips drawing back before shifting forward slowly, testing the waters. Tobirama’s breath hitched, her brow drawing inward, hands slowly gripping at the sheets beneath her. “Please,” she whispered, tongue slipping out to wet her lips. “Fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he grinned, shifting his knees before he began to thrust harder, faster, causing Tobirama to moan- a much louder sound than anything she’d given him before. Wordless little sounds, but gaining in pitch as his hips met hers, as he pulled her back onto his cock. “If I didn’t know any better,” he panted, gaze trained on her face, “I’d almost mistake you for a common oiran.” The way she tightened around him at the slight degradation had his hips slowing for a moment, much to her annoyance. “Oh, yes, I could see it so easily,” he continued, hips grinding, barely pulling out before pushing back in, rubbing against that spot that had her breath catching in her throat. “You in one of those little Tea Houses that have settled here, wearing a pretty little kimono, your lips stained red- laying on your back just like this, letting men use you like the whore you really are,” his voice dipped into a growl as he leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms while the position shifted, her hips rising with his.

Bordering so closely to the mating press, he noted in the back of his mind. But that didn’t matter, not with Tobirama gasping out his name. “Madara,” she whined, a hand rising to cover her mouth- as if it would hide what they were doing. “Don’t stop, sweet Gods do not stop, ah-right there!” Her thighs tensed around his hips, her cunt pulsing around his cock. Oh, she wouldn’t last long- but that was fine.

He would.

His fingers dug into her hips as he pressed close, hips grinding against hers. A moment to catch his breath- and to have her last just a touch longer. Being so close, he could just… Tongue lolling out, he licked a slow stripe up the valley of her breasts, drawing a surprised gasp from her lips, a breathless smile rising to settle across her features. “I could stay like this for ages,” he murmured against her skin, pressing lingering kisses to the smattering of scars across her chest- small, given by shrapnel during their darker days, “just like this, fucking you until you cried, until you can’t remember your name.”

Tobirama shifted her hips, brow furrowed as Madara spoke. She could hear him, certainly- could understand him, but the words didn’t register, not with how close she was to her own end. “Then do it,” she whispered, reaching down to cup his cheeks, drawing his face up- and for once, didn’t flinch away from the triad of tomoe within his ruby gaze. “Make me forget my name. Make me only remember yours.”

Something seemed to switch, then- as Madara studied her flushed features, the way her hair spread out beneath her head like a silver halo and wings. Leaning in, he captured her lips in a slow, sensual kiss that ended in him nipping at her lower lip as he shifted, his hands smoothing up her sides before settling atop the blankets, holding his weight up. This position was far more intimate than their previous positions, yet he found that it didn’t bother him. No, rather, he preferred this- to see her face so clearly, to hear her whispers of his name as he began to thrust once more. Her legs shifted, coming to settle around his hips, her ankles crossing at the small of his back.

Closer, stirring the embers of the flame that had been waiting to come to life for some time, now. What had been a small campfire was quickly spreading, consuming like a wildfire, flames licking at their skin, settling in their veins.

His lips brushed against her chin as her head tilted back, the position allowing for Madara to push deeper. “Tobirama,” he murmured, brow furrowing. Perhaps he wouldn’t last long, not now, not with how she gripped his cock. “By the Gods,” he gasped softly, hips rolling, chasing both hers and his own release. Her hands reached up, one tangling in thick onyx locks, the other scrapping blunt nails down the expanse of his back. The sharp shock of pain drew a surprised groan out of him, much to her amusement.

“Good boy,” she teased, only to gasp a moment later at the feeling of teeth digging into the sensitive flesh of her neck. “Mad-” her voice cut off by a loud moan as he moved his weight onto one arm, his free hand slipping between them to brush against her clit. Wordless sighs and moans spilled free as she rolled her hips against his, creating a wonderful fiction that had them both beginning to become consumed with the flames that threatened to burn them alive.

Madara pressed heated kisses along her throat as he felt her shudder beneath him. “Close, darling?” He murmured in her ear, lips brushing against the shell as she whimpered. “Will you be a good girl and come for me, then? Come around my cock like I know you want to?” His voice was no longer smooth, growing more haggard as his own completion began to burn at the base of his spine. “Come on, Tobi, you know you want to.”

“Shut- shut up,” Tobirama panted, even as she tossed her head back as he gave a particularly hard thrust. So close, so close. “Don’t stop, Madara- oh- oh, there! Please,” her voice pitched into a whine as her hand abandoned his hair to clutch at his back. Her walls pulsed around him once, twice, three times before she stilled, her back arching, mouth dropping open to release a sob of his name, tears spilling free at last from garnet hues.

Madara pushed himself up to watch, searing the image of her coming around his cock into his memory. The way her cheeks were flushed red, her brows furrowed, her nose scrunching up- she was beautiful in that moment. She was always beautiful, but this was a new type of beauty, something so delicate and precious that he hadn’t ever imagined being privy to. He moved slowly, the thrusts dragging against her walls, dragging out her pleasure and inching him close to his own. It hit suddenly, coming over him like wildfire consuming brush that lay in its path. He stilled above her, his head hanging low as he groaned out her name like a prayer.

She lay beneath him, panting and whining at the feeling of him filling her- hot, so very hot, it threatened to send her over the edge by the feeling alone. Shaky hands reached up to brush through surprisingly soft onyx tresses as he began to slowly gather himself. A moment longer, she thought to herself- let this last for a moment longer. The feeling of him settled over her, shuddering, panting, the heat that radiated from his skin so very pleasant, it had her relaxing into her bed.

But all good things must come to an end. Madara was careful as he pulled out, rolling his weight to the side to settle beside her with a breathless laugh. “Oops,” he hummed, reaching over to drag his fingertips along her thigh, watching as her leg jumped. He traced the red tattoo up, along the top of her thigh and onto her hip. “Was I supposed to pull out?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she murmured, reaching over to brush her fingers against his cheek, brushing away his hair. So messy… “Mito taught me how to make tea that will… Ensure it won’t take.”

“How soon do you need to drink it?” An innocent question as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his palm.

Tobirama hummed, shifting and grimacing at the feeling of his seed leaking. Oh, that’s why she hated it. “I’ll have it with my breakfast,” comes the simple response as she dips a hand down between her thighs to drag her fingers through the mess. “No wonder why there are so many of you Uchiha,” she comments idly.

A snort escapes Madara as he sits up, gaze drifting to the apex of her thighs. “Could always clean it up for you,” his fingers tap a slow rhythm on her thigh.

“Who said I wanted to be cleaned up?” Tobirama shoots back, legs slowly spreading. “Or are you just a one-and-done kinda guy?”

A grin spread across Madara’s lips as he slipped back between her thighs, pressing kisses along her stomach. “Do I look like the kind of man to leave a woman unsatisfied?”

“No,” she sighs, reaching down with her clean hand to brush his hair back from his face. “I feel that I will never be unsatisfied with you around- oh!” The feeling of his tongue brushing against her slit had her jolting in surprise, a chuckle rising to meet her ears.

Fires are awfully hard to extinguish once they grow out of control and consume everything within its sight.

#m's scribbles #tobirama senju #madara uchiha #madatobi #fem!tobirama #naruto smut #naruto fanfiction #tobirama smut #madara smut #this was fourteen pages of smut i hope y'all know

[prettylittleheartfilia]

The Usual

Neither of them knew how they ended up in this situation. One moment she was yelling at him for sneaking into her house, as usual. Then they began sparring, as usual. And now they found themselves on the couch, Natsu’s lips capturing hers, Lucy’s hands cupping his cheeks, which was not usual at all.

It was a soft kiss, neither of them really sure of what they were supposed to be doing with their mouths. They pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. The two stayed like that for a while, eyes closed, basking in the realization of what had just happened.

Lucy slowly opened her eyes and, just as she was about to speak, Happy flew in through the open window in her apartment.

“Lucy! Did you get any fish for me?”

Both Natsu and Lucy jumped at the sound of the exceed’s voice, scrambling to opposite ends of the couch so as to not raise any suspicion on what they had been doing less than a minute ago.

“Hey, buddy!” Natsu said a little too enthusiastically, his voice an octave higher than normal. “I thought you were hanging out with Carla.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to give her my fish and then I realized I actually ate it on the way to the guild, so I’m looking for another one.” He explained as he made his way to Lucy’s pantry.

“You already ate the fish I saved you.” Lucy called out, trying to hide her still reddened cheeks.

“What? Lucy~, that’s why I tell you to keep a bunch of them in the pantry!”

“I’m not saving any more of your stinky fish!” She got up and started pushing both of them towards the front door. “If you want more then go fishing and stop annoying me!”

The blonde slammed the door on their faces, leaning her head on it and letting her body slide down onto the floor. She normally didn’t mind their company, as much as she constantly berated them for invading her personal space, but today she needed to be alone in order to process what the hell had just happened.

The days following the incident were… weird. Lucy started avoiding Natsu like the plague. She dreaded going to the guild out of fear that she might run into him. And when she did inevitably run into him, she would make up a quick excuse as to why she couldn’t go on missions with him or sit with him to eat. The dragon slayer hadn’t sneaked into her place after that day either, which should have been a relief for the blonde, but it just made her feel like he thought what happened between them had been a mistake.

But what right did she have to feel this way? She was the one who continued to run away from him, too afraid of what might happen if they got the chance to be alone together. And now, she was all by herself in her apartment, deciding to focus on her novel instead of trying to go to the guild for a futile game of hide and seek like she had been doing all week. Except that this wasn’t working either. Every time she tried to write words on the paper, her mind went back to Natsu and that day. The way his lips felt against her own—chapped but sweet, the way his hands felt on top of her hips, how his wild hair smelled of-

Lucy flinched at the sound of someone knocking on her door. She jumped out of her desk chair and quickly opened the entrance to her apartment, not really caring who was behind the door as long as they could make her think of something other than her best friend’s lips.

“Hey, Lu!” As soon as the door opened, Levy jumped on the blonde, hugging her tight.

“Hey… everyone. What are you guys doing here?” Still a bit flustered from her earlier thoughts, Lucy hugged Levy back as she glanced up to see Cana, Juvia, Erza, Mira, and Lisanna all standing in her doorway.

“We thought today would be a perfect day for a girls’ night!” Mira explained as she and the other girls made themselves comfortable in Lucy’s home.

Lucy smiled softly. A girls’ night was just what she needed to clear her head, even if it was unexpected.

Or so she thought.

Not even ten minutes after her friends’ arrival, Cana exposed the real reason why they had suddenly come to visit. “So, Lucy, did something happen between you and Natsu?”

“Cana!” Levy smacked her arm as the other girls looked at the brunette with wide eyes.

“What? Might as well just come out and ask instead of beating around the bush.”

The blonde’s face glowed red as she hurriedly denied her friend’s question. “No! No no no, everything’s fine! W-why do you ask?”

“Please. We all notice how weird you’ve been acting lately. You run away if you see even a glimpse of pink hair.”

Lucy looked down. Maybe she should tell them what happened. She’s not used to talking about her feelings, normally just shoving them down and distracting herself by writing or going on a mission. But none of those distractions seemed to be working right now. And most of her friends had much more experience in this department than her, surely they would know what to do. Plus, she trusted these girls with her life.

“Natsu and I… we, we kissed… last week.” She muttered, still looking down. Part of her hoped they didn’t hear her but, alas, they did.

There was a resounding “WHAT?” from all of her guests and Lucy simply nodded, still too afraid to look up.

“Oh my God! Pay up, guys!” Cana jumped up, thrusting her open palm in front of Mira’s face.

“I really thought it would take them years.” Mirajane grumbled as she took out some rolled up jewels from her cleavage and handed them to the brunette. Both Lisanna and Erza also stood up and begrudgingly gave Cana their money.

“Juvia knew it was coming. They’ve been flirting more and more these days.” Said the water mage with a smug grin as Cana divided the bills with her and Levy.

“Wait, what?” Lucy finally looked up indignantly, “You guys made a bet about this?”

“Of course. We all know you two idiots are in love. You’re the last ones to realize it.” Cana shrugged as she sat down again.

“We’re not in love.” Lucy responded, but even she knew it was a weak protest.

“How did it happen? Who kissed who? Was it like you expected your first kiss to go?” Levy jumped from question to question excitedly.

“I don’t even know. We sat down on the couch after a sparring match and we were just playing around and then…” She trailed off.

“Did you like it?” Erza spoke up for the first time.

“...Yes?” Lucy responded after a while and groaned after she saw her friends’ cheeky smiles, burying her face in her hands.

“If you liked it so much, then why do you keep running away from him?” Asked Cana.

“I don’t know,” The blonde mumbled, face still buried in her hands before she moved to hug her knees instead, “Things are just… weird right now. I don’t know what I want, or what he wants.”

“Well, do you see yourself in a relationship with him?” Mira asked softly.

This got Lucy thinking. Ever since she was little, she had always fantasized about marrying her Prince Charming. Someone who was elegant, classy, a gentleman on all counts. But, after meeting Natsu, somehow the idea of that Prince Charming started fading away from her mind until there was no trace of it left. Now, whenever she thought about the one person she wanted to spend forever with, the only things she could envision were wide, warm smiles and pink hair. She never spent too much time thinking about what it could all mean, too afraid of what she might find if she dug deep enough in her heart. But the truth always found its way to the surface.

“I do.” She admitted in a whisper, more to herself than the people around her. “I want us to be together forever.”

“Then, what are you so afraid of? Go and talk to him.”

“I can’t. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? I don’t think he’s interested in relationships. And even if he was, he’s my best friend. I would never want to do anything that could jeopardize that.”

This time, Lisanna interjected. “Luce, I’ve known Natsu for a long time. I probably know him better than he knows himself in certain ways. I can assure you, the boy is head over heels for you. And I’m not the only one who sees it.” The other girls made gestures of agreement and Lisanna chuckled.

“You’re missing out on what could potentially be a beautiful thing because you’re scared of the what-ifs. Yes, maybe along the line something happens and you guys break up. But, maybe you don’t and you get to grow old together. You’ll never know unless you try. Life is all about risks and I know you’re brave enough to take them. I’ve seen you do it.”

Mira’s speech almost brought tears to Lucy’s eyes. She was right-- as she usually was about everything. If Lucy was able to leave everything behind at seventeen to become a mage and get through countless adversities in her way, even when all odds were against her, what’s stopping her from confronting a boy?

“No matter what happens, we will always be a team.” Erza added, and it was just the validation Lucy needed to make her mind up.

“Thank you, guys. Really. And you’re right. I need to stop running away and just talk to him.”

———

Today was the day. After going over everything the Strauss sisters had said to her in the mirror to gain courage, Lucy took a deep breath and made her way towards the guild.

As soon as she opened the grand doors, she was met with the familiar ruckus of Fairy Tail; chairs being thrown in the air, groups of people singing while drunk-- Cana being the most notable of all, of course. People yelling out what missions they were planning on taking to Mira, and what seemed to be a crowd of people cheering on a fight. She smiled. As much as Lucy loved peace and quiet, there was something so comforting about all the chaos that went on inside the guild. It felt like home.

Only when she got closer did the celestial mage notice that the people who were fighting were none other than Natsu and Gray. Gajeel seemed eager to join the fight from where he stood in the crowd, but he was being pulled back and chastised by Levy.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy squeezed her way through the group until she was standing on the front row. “Natsu, Gray! You better stop before Erza sees you.”

The threat fell on deaf ears, the two mages too entranced on beating each other up to even notice the presence of their friend. Sighing, Lucy made her way to where the two of them stood. Before either of the boys could process what was happening, Lucy grabbed their heads and crushed them together. The hollering crowd instantly went silent and slowly dispersed, knowing not to cross the blonde when she was in one of those moods.

“What the fuck, Lucy!” Cried out Gray as he rubbed the injured area.

Deciding there were more important matters at hand, Lucy ignored him and turned to Natsu who was also rubbing his head until he noticed the girl looking at him. He straightened up with wide eyes.

Before he could say anything though, Lucy hurriedly asked, “Can you come over for dinner later?” Knowing that if she didn’t ask now she would lose all the courage she worked so hard to build.

The question seemed to throw Natsu off. He sent a panicked look at Gray, as if questioning whether he heard her right, and answered after a few seconds. “S-sure! I’ll be there.”

———

Lucy decided to leave the guild early not only to make the food, but to mentally prepare for what was about to happen.

She was going to ask Natsu how he felt. And she had no idea what to expect. The boy had never been good with words or expressing himself, his thoughts always a mystery to whoever he was around. Perhaps if she hadn’t kicked him out of the apartment after their kiss and avoided him every day since then, she would have an idea of what was going on through his mind. But it’s too late for regret now.

Just as she finished setting up the small table, she heard someone knocking at her door. Taking a deep breath, Lucy opened the door to find her pink-haired partner scratching the back of his neck, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. Part of her was afraid he was going to fly in through the window with Happy, but she was glad to see he understood that she wanted them to talk alone.

“Natsu.” She breathed, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Hey, Luce.” He gave her one of his signature big smiles, but Lucy noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes. He seemed… nervous. She never thought Natsu was capable of feeling that emotion.

They stood awkwardly on the doorway for a few seconds before Lucy realized it was her turn to speak.

“C-come in! I made some of that spicy chicken you really like.” She looked down at the floor as she opened the door wider so he could pass.

“Thanks!” He chirped as he sat down on one of the dining chairs.

Lucy gulped. The entire speech she rehearsed over and over again had completely been erased from her mind the moment she saw him.

This was going to be a long night.

———

Once again, Lucy had no idea how they ended up like this. Dinnertime had been very awkward, the two of them eating silently for the most part, making small talk every once in a while, both of them too afraid to mention the elephant in the room. But, somehow, they had gone from barely talking at each other, to making a bet on who would win a sparring match. Even in the most difficult situations, Natsu always found a way to wreak havoc. And Lucy found a strange sense of comfort in that.

At first, the blonde was hesitant on accepting the bet, still feeling the discomfort of all the things left unsaid. But, when Natsu sent a Fire Dragon Iron Fist her way, breaking her favorite vase as she ducked, she decided to make good use of her Fleuve D’étoiles. After a few minutes of going back and forth, Lucy pretended to point at something surprising behind Natsu, which gave her the opportunity to wrap her whip around Natsu’s ankle when he looked back and tug him until he collapsed on the ground. The oldest and cheapest trick in the book, Lucy knew, but a win was a win. Honestly, she was more surprised that it had actually worked.

She unwrapped the whip from Natsu’s ankle and placed it gently on her desk. The dragon slayer was still laying flat on the floor, so Lucy decided to lay down next to him. She sighed as she felt all the tension she had been feeling lately leave her body. It had only been a week but she had seriously missed being around her best friend. It didn’t matter to her what they were, she just wanted to be with him. That was enough for her.

“Now my face is all red.” She muttered as she pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“I like your face.” Natsu mumbled and, as they both whipped their heads to look at each other with wide eyes, Lucy realized that he was just as surprised by what had come out of his mouth as she was. “I, I mean your face is cool! I-it’s nice. Even when it’s all red and sweaty like now.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at his poor attempt to save himself but made no effort to stop him.

“But not only your face!” He continued, “Gray told me you should never just talk about a girl’s appearance.” He grumbled, as if upset he had broken some sort of special rule and Lucy could not stop her amused smile. “Like, yeah, your face is nice, but you are also nice! And smart. And I like how I feel when we hang out. Ugh, what am I saying?” He turned his face towards the ceiling again and covered it with his hands.

It took everything in Lucy’s power to not burst out laughing right then and there. Was Natsu… confessing? She had never seen him so flustered. Ever. Normally, that was her thing. She had to admit, it was nice being on the other end every once in a while. All this time, she tried her hardest to muster up the courage to talk to him, trying to convince herself that things would be fine even if he didn’t feel the same way and now here he was, making a fool out of himself in the most heartwarming way Lucy could have asked for.

After a couple moments of silence, Lucy finally decided to speak up with newfound confidence.

“... I like your face too. Just so you know.”

Natsu dropped his hands from his face and whipped his head to look at Lucy. She raised her eyebrows, hoping he would understand exactly what she meant. She knew he understood by the way his lips slowly formed a giddy smile, one to match hers. Without the need for any more words, they both turned to look at the ceiling as their hands found their way to each other’s, fingers entangling.

This definitely wasn’t the usual for them, but maybe it was time for a new normal.

#fairy tail #nalu #nalu fanfic #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #my writing #i think this is the longest one-shot i've written so far #not pictured: gray threatening to cut natsu's balls if he ever hurt lucy after finding out about the kiss #also not pictured: the bags under my eyes because i decided to proof-read this at an ungodly hour

[moonshotsx]

so, i've had this idea floating around for a while and after last night, i got inspired and i thought i'd give it a shot 💞 (also adding the new idea for camgeria that popped up in my mind this morning lol)

--

Bosco was putting the finishing touches on the last floral arrangement they had planned.

The brunette had become friends with that particular client, the red hair and the British accent were quite hard to miss.

"All good to go, Cam," they set down the arrangement on the counter, "Are you finally going to tell me for who these are or you're keeping the suspense?" they teased as the older woman took out her wallet.

"Mummy's got a crush on Miss Angie! Mummy and Miss Angie sitting under a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"

The curly red-haired five-year-old giggled from behind her mom's frame, capturing Bosco's attention.

Camden blushed at the mention of her daughter's very kind and very attractive teacher, "Behave, Maxine," she warned her but failed to sound stern enough.

"Who's Miss Angie, kiddo?"

"My new teacher! She's very pretty and has a funny accent, mummy really likes her accent!"

Bosco leaned forward as they rest their elbows on the counter, "Is that so? Do you think she'll like these flowers, Max?"

"I think Miss Angie will like anything mummy gives her," she shrugged her shoulders as if it was obvious the two women were made for each other.

"That's enough oversharing for this afternoon, love!" Camden handed over the surprisingly light arrangement for Maxine to hold, "How much do I owe you?"

"I'll do 80$ for you... only if you keep me updated with this little crush of yours, Miss Camden," they gave the little girl a wink, getting a giggle out of her.

"Can't make any promises! Say goodbye, dear," Camden prompted her daughter who simply waved back at the florist.

"Bye, Miss Bosco!"

The brunette couldn't contain a smile at how Maxine had addressed them, "See ya, little demon, be good to your mom!"

Bosco watched the duo disappear out of the shop before they went back to cleaning up the store and getting ready to close.

Just five minutes before they were supposed to close, the brunette heard the front door open.

They were about to tell whoever came in that they were closed but when they turned around, Bosco stopped dead in their tracts.

A blonde who looked not a day older than 21 was standing awkwardly by the door.

Behind a pair of glasses, her pretty green eyes were slightly puffed up as if she had just stopped crying not long ago. Her hair was up in a messy bun, some wild strands falling on her shoulders.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Bosco let out before they could filter their words.

"I... I had another fight with my dad, he doesn't... approve of me being me and I had to get out of there," the hoarseness in her voice checked out with what she was saying, "You're not closed, are you? I don't want to bother you if it's already too late but this was the first shop I saw after getting out of the subway, hell, I don't even know which stop I got out at-"

Her endless rambling prompted Bosco to grab one of the tissue they kept by the counter and to walk towards her, noticing their height difference - it made her look even more small and sad.

They offered it to her, the blonde eagerly taking it as she started to dry off the new batch of tears.

"I'm sorry about what happened but I don't know what you want me to do to help you, I'm just a florist..." they scratched their head, something inside them wanted to help that poor girl out, "What's your name?"

It took her a few moments before replying as if she was trying to figure out if she could trust Bosco. They caught her staring at the few small colorful pride decorations made out of flowers.

"Jasmine," she finally let out, "My name is Jasmine"

"Alright then, Jasmine," Bosco smiled at her, "Tell me what I can do for you?"

Jasmine bit her lower lip as she thought, "I would like to buy a flower for myself," she replied, her voice more secure albeit still shaking slightly, "I want to feel pretty," she admitted with her head low, so quietly that Bosco would have missed if they weren't standing right next to her.

"You're beautiful," they replied honestly, catching Jasmine by surprise, her green eyes wide as her head shot up to meet Bosco's eyes.

"You think so?"

Bosco nodded, they could see their younger self in Jasmine, lonely and scared - misunderstood by the people who were supposed to protect them. They felt the need to look after her, even if they had barely known for a couple of minutes.

"C'mon to the counter with me, I'm making you the best flower bouquet you can imagine," Bosco offered their hand for Jasmine to take.

For once, the brunette didn't mind staying overtime at the flower shop.

#fic prompt #jasco #florist au

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 8

Word Count: 1879

Warning: trigger - hunting, and demeaning verbal abuse.

A/N thanks again to my beautiful @sillyrabbit81 for your editing and @amberangel112 for your encouragement.

Chapter 8

Henry could not understand why Jessie was still considering going out with this jerk. He huffed at Joe’s words and was pleasantly surprised at Tom’s reaction. Pleased to have someone in his corner, he nuzzled into the young man’s arms. It felt nice, an odd feeling of loss and regret pulled at his soul. He hadn’t seen his nephew in five years, he would be fifteen years old now four years younger than Tom. Memories of their last time together flooded his mind, the feel of his hands running through his fur. Even then he had refused to change, sadly his nephew had never known him in Human form.

The packhouse was large, made of local stone it would be considered menacing to outsiders. But for those invited in, it was a house filled with love. They had found Henry and his nephew Adam just outside their forest line, half-starved, dehydrated and desperate for care. The pack doctor had tended to Henry whilst one of the pack's mothers had shared her milk with the little pup. Adam had captured the mother’s heart and at Henry’s approval had adopted him into the pack. Henry had grieved the loss of his only kin but been so grateful to them. He knew he could not look after the little one, not with his heartbroken in pieces.

Over the next ten years, he had come and gone from the house checking up on Adam, watched as he grew strong, not only physically, but emotionally he had developed into a beautiful soul. Their last time together they had sat just like he was now with Tom. He had curled up next to Adam, his head in his lap, Adams fingers running through his fur. “I wish you could change for me Uncle, I see all the other dads and sons playing together and I love the idea that when I change next year we can run together. Then I can finally talk to you and hear your voice back. But I want to know what you look like, to be able to hug you like I see that others hug their dads.” His face had added to Henry’s grief looking so heartbroken and longingly at him. He had tried at that moment, had attempted to honour his request but his human side was so lost, hidden in pain. He had left the house that day, knowing even if it broke his heart, he needed to let his nephew grow with his new pack and not be held back by him.

Now nestled against Tom he regretted that decision. He heard a chuckle soft and happy. “Well look at you two. I would never have guessed Wolfy could be so comfortable with another human. I haven’t seen him like that with anyone except with me. What’s your secret Tom?” Her bright eyes landed on Tom who had continued to scratch behind Henry’s ears.

“I don’t know Miss Jessie, but I have always loved wolves, well any kind of animal really but especially wolves.”

She seemed thoughtful as she eyed them both making Henry wonder what she had planned. “Tom, are you free tonight? I have a date and I really don’t want to leave Wolfy alone again.” Henry felt Tom stiffen. Wondering what was wrong with the request, he moved his head to look up at the boy.

A brief look of disapproval flashed in his eyes before they softened as he looked down and saw Henry watching him. “Yes, Miss Jessie. I would love to spend more time with this beautiful boy.” Internally he chuckled at Tom’s words, if only he knew he was twelve years older than him.

That afternoon Henry, Jessie and Tom spent out in the garden. Tom seemed to fit beautifully into their friendship group kneeling beside Jessie as they planted new flowers and shrubs where they had pulled up the weeds. Together, Henry dug the holes, Tom placed the plants and held them in place whilst Jessie filled the soil around them. Henry enjoyed hearing the light conversation between his Mate and his new friend until it became heavier. “So, Tom, when did you begin to love wolves? I know your father traps them, so I’m interested as to why you don’t follow his belief.”

Tom continued to work, as a gentle hum was heard working up from his throat. “I know why Dad does it, although I don’t think he is correct. He blames the wolves for his loss of cattle, but I haven’t seen that many around. The wild dogs are more to blame but he won't listen. They have a group that meet purely to discuss the wolf problem, but in my whole life, the only large group I have seen was back when I was four. It’s the first and last time Dad allowed me to come to a hunting party. Mom was horrified that he was taking me, but I wanted so much to be with Dad, and he wanted me to be just like him.”

Henry shuddered as the boy spoke as if by some force of nature, he knew that he was about to hear what had happened that day. He also sensed the grief radiating off the boy, wanting to calm him he pushed his body into Tom’s side. Nuzzling his head as if to say, “It's ok, I’m here for you.” Tom let out a heavy chuckle as if he had heard Henry’s voice.

He sat back looking down at Henry as he spoke, “Thanks Wolfy, you would think that I would not remember something that happened that long ago, but it's imprinted in my mind. They had been tracking a pack that had only just entered the area, convinced the rest of the ranchers that they were a risk to our lively hood, that we couldn’t let them nest here. So, the best of their marksman left, when we found them all, sitting around a tree, curled up sleeping, all I wanted to do was go play with the cuddly animals. Dad kept pulling me back holding me still and quiet. I didn’t understand until the loud bangs began.”

Tom’s voice wobbled at this point and Jessie who had been silent up till this time also came closer. She pulled him into her side, her arm encasing his thin body as his shoulders began to shake. “I started screaming as I saw a single wolf with a baby on its back running away, Dad aimed for it but I managed to push the barrel up making him miss. I got the thrashing of my life that night. I couldn’t sit for a week, but it was worth it. I was never allowed to come again after that, not that I wanted to. It took a while, but Dad eventually began to trust me enough to check the traps. I am glad too because it meant I could help this fella.”

Jessie held the boy as his sobs subsided. Henry was trying to hold his anger in, these were the people who had destroyed his family. And yet this one boy had not only saved him once but twice, his gratitude was the only thing stopping him from wanting to go rip the throats out of the group. Ignorance and fear were the driving forces that ended his family, if only they knew the wolves would only ever take a sick animal, and sometimes the young, never the strength of the herd. They would never kill without need. But the wild dogs he had seen were giving us a bad name.

Jessie's voice interrupted his thoughts, the softness not hiding the grief in her own. “Was that near here Tom?” How did Jessie know?

“Yes, Miss Jessie, by the tall tree in the middle of the forest.”

She silently picked up the tools, both animal and human watching her, wondering what she was thinking. Sighing she stood up, “Come, it’s getting dark and I need to get ready for this date.” She walked silently back into the house. The boy and the wolf looked at each other before both followed.

Jessie fixed dinner for Tom and Henry then left to dress, leaving the pair to their own devices. Tom seemed quiet after revealing his early childhood trauma and Henry was eager to help calm the boy. After eating, he plodded into the living room, jumped up on the couch and yipped in Tom’s direction. Chuckling, Tom responded, “You want to watch some TV boy?” Nuzzling the remote, he yipped eagerly hoping to distract the boy from his thoughts.

Tom settled next to him and picked up the remote, they settled on watching a rerun of M.A.S.H before they both heard the clicking of heels and the rapping of knuckles on the front door. Open-mouthed both Henry and Tom sat dumbstruck as Jessie walked down the stairs in a light yellow sundress her dark hair flowing softly twisted into waves. “Wow Miss Jessie, you look amazing” got in first before Henry followed with his eager Yip. Giggling Jessie smiled softly at them both, “Ok I won't be out late, but even so, don’t get up to any mischief”

This caused both Henry and Tom to laugh, one sounding more like a series of yips. The door opened and closed and Jessie was gone. Together the two sat, watched movies and shared some popcorn that Tom had found in the pantry. Just as the end of a Witcher episode finished they heard yelling coming from outside. “I don’t give a dam Boyd, you had no right to hit that poor man, It was an accident.” The front door opened as Jessie stormed inside, the front of her dress had a brown stain down the side of her skirt.

Next Boyd came crashing into the room his face red as he reached out to grab Jessie's arm, this caused Henry to jump into action his snarl reaching the ears of the big man before he saw the wolf racing towards him. Jumping back almost stumbling over the kitchen chair Boyd’s face grew hotter, “Keep that mutt controlled Jessie otherwise I’ll control him for you with my shot Gun.”

The air went still as Henry felt Jessies and Tom's hands on him, “That is enough Boyd Hatfield, you are no longer welcome in this home. Get. Out!” Surprise filled Boyd’s face as he not only recognised Tom but registered his marching orders. Menace replaced the look of surprise, “Listen here little girl, you better watch that attitude of yours. I’ll allow you to cool off but we are not finished talking, and if you value the life of that mutt you will do as your told.” Punctuating the statement with a nod of his head he turned and strolled out the door.

Heart pounding he turned looking up at Jessie who seemed to have lost her speech, her face pale and her hands shaking. Tom moved swiftly pulling her into his arms as she began to cry, frustrated that it wasn’t his arms holding her, Henry pushed his body against her to show he was there, but inside he was furious. That man had threatened not just himself but Jessie, but he had to focus on her right now, she was more important no matter how much he wanted to go after him.

Chapter 9

#the veterinarian and the werewolf #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #werewolf

[void-adjacent-particles]

Content warnings: Death, gore, fire mentions, scars, murder, violence.

Totems of Undying are strange things. They’re warm, and will pulse in time to the heartbeat of whatever is holding them, emerald eyes glimmering even in the pure dark of the void’s absence of light. While Totems are made of gold, there is no malleability, they are as solid as bedrock. The emeralds and gold and magic have solidified into one unchangeable object until its use, and then it is gone.

They leave their mark on whatever uses them. For some this could be a prize, another thing to be proud of, because they survived the unsurvivable only through their own wits and forethought. To others it is a mark of shame, for ever having been in such a position to lose their life, even if it is only one of three.

On a specific server, there are those who have need for Totems in their long pasts, who have used them right before our eyes, and those who will surely use them in the future.

Technoblade was one such person to use one before our eyes. We saw him dragged from his home to a farce of a trial, facing justice on rigged scales for grievous cries nonetheless as he was pushed into a cage. The fall of the anvil, the crushing, crunching of a body that never seemed fragile until now when everyone witnessed its end. Then the sparkling cloud of green and yellow, bones clicking back in jigsaw puzzle pieces, the knitting of muscle and tendon and skin, and there is only a moment of paralyzing death before his heart skips a beat and he lives again. This is the prestige of his trick, no turn to raise suspense, and a pledge everyone who knew his name already was aware of, a promise and threat all in one that he always delivered on. Technoblade never dies, and he lives right now to kill again. Later he will be in his quaint cottage in the merciless tundra, and his own reflection will glitter strangely back at him, forcing him to examine himself instead of resting and trying to forget the lingering aches. He will stare as the night sky leaves the window more a mirror, lantern lights low, but the flashes catch his eyes anyway. His tusks, once white and bone, now seem to be fully made of gold. He taps one with his hoof, and feels the pressure reverberating subtly down into his jaws, as real as before. With a shrug, he moves his hoof away, only to watch as pink fur and skin split against the now razor sharp point of his tusks. Those tusks will remain as gilded as any enchanted apple, and as sharp as any netherite sword, until one day he will fail his audience, his pledge a battle cry he brings to one or more of his graves.

Quackity would covet a Totem in all of his paranoia, his fear of death and pain and losing even more than he already has. If he died, be it by pickaxe or nuke or strangling, desperate hands, the Totem would bring him back all the same. And all of his scars would ache in their newfound golden hue, shining and standing out even more as a testament to his inability to protect himself or what he loves. The scars would hurt, old and new, in warning of dangers to come. It only partly calms his paranoia, the fear ever present and simmering in the background of his mind, waiting to boil over and burn him.

When Tubbo or Tommy use their Totems of Undying they will appear unharmed. It is not until they bruise that it becomes obvious. A small bump against the corner of furniture, a tumble while out exploring the wild, a sharp elbow to the face, the blunt side of a weapon, they bruise the skin, blossoming into purples and dark indigos. They fade far too quickly, as if someone splashed healing potions on them. Yet then they stay at that disquieting green and yellow stage, where the next day it could appear as if they were never there, but they stay, shimmering slightly in the wrong lighting, still hurting as much as if they were fresh even weeks later. Only fading when forgotten about, and they have wonder if the bruise was ever there. If only they had Totems when they died before. Tubbo’s face would be a mess of bruised gold that would seep into the skin until only pink scar tissue remained, a starburst remnant of a festival’s fireworks, but he would still be alive, gasping for air and hunched over in that box, on that stage, but alive. Tommy would have handprint bruises around his neck, across the break in his nose, the imprint of a fist against his cheek that had whipped his head back too far, his neck slamming at the worst angle against the harsh obsidian walls. But he would have been alive, clawing his way back into life, latching his own hands around his killer’s throat, finishing the job, doing what should have been done instead of daring to imprison a dream.

George passes out if he uses a Totem. Instead of the rush of adrenaline, of life that floods the system of whatever uses one, it overwhelms to the point of just unconsciousness as his body repairs itself, fueled only by magic until his heart begins pumping and his lungs begin breathing again. Later when he wakes, maybe with cracked sunglasses, anyone who’s looking properly will see the dark bags under his eyes, a sheen of gold overlaying the dark purple of sleeplessness. When he sleeps it will be deeper, without dreams. Alarms and shaking won’t wake him. Nights will be sleepless as he examines the bags under his eyes, fretting over the burnt orange of the gold deepening, digging into his skin, around his eyes. He will continue to sleep, but days will pass, and when he wakes he wonders if next time he will simply be unlucky and sleep forever.

If Dream uses a Totem of Undying it will shatter him. He will feel every bone shake themselves into dust and back again, a glimpse of what everyone eventually returns to. His spine will burn with pain, arcing upwards to the base of his skull, spreading outwards like a deep set rot that always goes unnoticed until it is far too late and the structure crumbles. His mask shatters, likely from the final strike that killed him, but maybe just from his fall to the ground, a person one moment and a corpse the next, until the Totem brings him back. Gold lines every crack in the porcelain of his mask, across the monochrome of the glaze burned into it, bisecting an eye, a smile, a face. The green of him becomes so much more vibrant, deadly, similar to prey animals that evolve into their bright colors to indicate they are poisonous, saying if you kill me, I take you down with me.

If Niki ever uses a Totem, it would burn. She would feel it burning, more than the all encompassing pain of whatever killed her. Bright, sparking pain would race down her body, through every nerve, every blood vessel, until it was all she knew for that brief suspended moment on the precipice between life and death. She would grit her teeth through the pain, eyes narrowed as she reeled back from the magical force, only to march onward in doing whatever was necessary to achieve her goal. Later she would be looking at her hands, washing off blood real or metaphorical, and see that instead of chipping nail polish in whatever color of her choice, instead her nails would be intact, a brilliant gold. Nails that would make her appear vain, still absorbed with one final thing, or simply clinging to it. Nails that would sharpen into what some might call claws, digging into the fine wooden handles of her weapons, scoring lines that would never go away, even if the nails would upon her death.

If Hannah ever uses a Totem of Undying it will react strangely to her innate magic. Plants die off, withering away, leaving just the roots, the basis of their whole survival, to lie in wait underground until the rain falls again and the sun shines again. Any of her wounds will bloom with roses, the flowers ragged, shaped like bloodstains, but every leaf and petal will be edged with gold. The greenery of her roses’ vines will brighten and soak up sunshine more than ever, revitalizing her until her heart aches with it, until she finally lets fate claim the life stolen from it.

If Puffy ever uses a Totem of Undying, she wouldn’t notice side effects at first, aside from the usual anguish and pain from having died. The likely conflicts she had thrown herself into out of duty would capture her attention anyway, away from examining herself for any lingering problems. It wouldn’t be a problem anyway, not until she looked in the mirror and saw that all of her greying hairs from stress became gold, her mass of curls even heavier, no lock of hair without its reminder, its own thread of gold to weave into thick hair. Later, in a moment of true rest, when someone runs their hands through her hair, braiding it or simply trying to calm her, they would find that every golden thread burns and tries to tie itself around their hands, keeping them there, keeping them at her side where they could be safe.

If Antfrost or Fundy ever use a Totem, it settles on their skin like a weighted blanket, forcing their muscles to accommodate, forcing them to make room in their lives for the extra chance they stole. Later, when they rest, so much more tired with their aching bodies, they will curl up in the sunshine wherever they feel safest. When the sunlight catches just right, beige or burnt orange fur glimmers like a pelt of gold. Any breeze would be unable to rustle fur, their bodies motionless and unmovable as any statue, their breathing far shallower and subtler than ever before. If one wasn’t watching close enough, they’d assume there was a corpse just curled in the sunlight, begging for a final bit of warmth before letting go. They will start awake from nightmares with a hiss, and stretch out in the dying light to go pretend like they don’t feel that extra life weighing on them.

Phil only has one life to lose, and so he holds Totems close to his heart, always just one movement away from being clutched as the lifelines they are. When he’s killed holding one, wings splayed, feathers falling from the force of his death, mouth open and choking on last breaths, his death will hurt.  It will always hurt, the moment stretching through his lived centuries and snapping back into the present, so much life to flash before his eyes that they are rendered sightless and glassy, death clouding them greedily. Flashes of gold and emerald green dance on the sheen of inky feathers and glossy eyes as dead as a doll’s. When he lives again, his wings will no longer be the cape of shadows, the midnight extensions of self that they once were. His secondary feathers will be golden now, shining in the sun, always growing back that same shade. Those gilded feathers will just be another thing his murder of crows hoards, another shiny object, but to Phil it will be a permanent reminder of how he has always only had one life, and how fleeting it is.

If Wilbur got his hands on a Totem, he would never let it go. To die again and again and again, to suffer through the agony of an eternal listless limbo, to suffer again as he is replaced by a mockery of himself… he could not stand for it. So he never lets go of the Totem in hand, his thumb worrying over the facets of its emerald eyes when he thinks, nails breaking against the rigid golden effigy. There are many reasons he would die, several from his own actions, as it was before. If he did die, he would wake choking on blood and tears, hacking and wheezing and lacking all the grace and charm he once had. It wouldn’t be until he coughed once again into his hands that he would see his blood, no longer a dull red, now glimmering and golden. And he laughs, as he now resembles a god in all but the immortality, his blood turned to ichor in its molten sunlight, its deep dark shades of beauty and riches, and he keeps choking on his blood as the Totem works still to restore a body dead for the fourth time.

When Ranboo uses a Totem of Undying the magic will seep into his skin, counteracting strangely with his biology, trying to strengthen him, trying to mark him however it can. So the short black velvet of fur he received from enderman genetics will spread, the skin and fur stronger, in hopes of protecting him. It seeps like ink, a slow spread that burns as if trails of water settled on his skin. It hurts, and he hides for days, coming out with his green eye just a bit brighter, black crawling up the white side of his jaw like an outstretched hand. His own hand will reach out, and under the white skin on his forearm will be golden veins, burning with life stolen from a Totem. He forgets using Totems every time he does, the experience is so jarring and intense as it changes the fiber of his being, as with every use he appears more enderman than whatever else he is. One day, far in the future when he goes by another name, he will look in the mirror and see two emerald green eyes, his entire body the black void of fur his endermen kin have. 

Foolish is a being whose entire being had always been defined by death. Once, it was the carnage, the lives lost in droves, sent into Her embrace prematurely in their violent ends. Then Foolish changed and became a Totem of Undying himself, a god now more mortal than even he knew by resisting his domain. When he died the denial was almost too much to bear, the Egg trying to worm its way into his mind when it realized this weakness, a grief for what he lost. If he dies again, he will likely have a Totem in hand, maybe even one of his children, held close as he fears an end, selfishly cannibalizing the life force of one of his own in order to extend his last two lives. There will be no markings from the Totem. He is already one of them, eyes of gemstone and skin of metal, created and made of that space between life and death, the lull after a last heartbeat when the next is expected, the resting note in the song of life that he has conducted himself, has cut short himself, destroying all in his path without a single goal in mind in his times as a Totem of Death. There is no scar or blood or feathers or bruise to mark him, because he is a Totem. A Totem given sentience and life, given free will and thought, but at the end of the day a living doll, and the now lifeless, apathetically terrified look in Foolish’s emerald eyes is enough to show just what measures he took in order to survive another death.

#dreamsmp #dream smp #dsmp #technoblade #tommyinnit #tubbo #mcyt #wilbur soot #philza #nihachu #antfrost #fundy #dreamwastaken #foolish gamers #dreamsmp headcanons #headcanons #headcanon #hannahxxrose #georgenotfound #quackity #ranboo #ranboolive #foolishgamer #death tw

[dreadwulf]

prompt #1: The Green Knight

(Warning: Major Character Death. Not the Major Character you think. Be warned.)

The Green Chapel stands still and silent when the Golden Knight arrives.

Once he had expected a fine cathedral to await him at the of his journey, but by now he is unsurprised to find a crumbled ruin overgrown with ivy. Only the stone walls remain of this “chapel”. The sunken paving stones admit dirt and weeds between them enough that it is barely distinguishable from the forest floor, and the roof is long since fallen in. Everywhere it is overgrown with thick green leaves and vines, and surrounded by a canopy of trees that opens only enough to admit a slice of night sky directly above.

Ser Jaime Lannister enters watchfully, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The Green Knight is nearly invisible to him at first: concealed in greenery, grown into the landscape as though part of it. The bark of his skin is encrusted with moss, leaving no visible gap between himself and the plants around him. Judging from the growth, the Knight has not moved in a long, long while. 

Has he stood exactly here for the entire year, waiting for him? It looks more like a statue, or a tree carving. Something long abandoned. Much longer than a single year.

“Ser Knight,” he announces, “I have arrived per our agreement.”

Silence. 

There is only him here, and a tree that looks only a little like a man.

He is early, Ser Jaime realizes. Will be it dawn of the day, or the very hour of their meeting? He may be here for some time. It will be hours to dawn, and it had been another sundown after that when the Green Knight had ridden into Robert’s court on his enormous steed. 

One year hence, the Knight had said. Well, at least he is not late.

The pre-dawn hours are quiet here, and the grove is peaceful. The trees overhead open out onto a pretty sprinkling of stars, and all the noise of the forest and the brook which has lead him here has faded away.  He can see why the locals call this the Green Chapel. It is the sort of place that encourages one to pray, and to contemplate, at least if one is given to introspection and piety. 

Which he is usually not.

The Golden Knight quickly grows restless. Waiting is not a skill of his. He is impatient by nature, impetuous and impulsive. Faced with delay he will rush things ahead, or abandon his course. Unless, as in this case, he has no choice but to wait, and then he will be overcome with unease. 

He paces. His fingers twitch. His gaze darts around, landing on this and that. 

There is no sign of movement from the Green Knight. 

If he had not seen him walking and talking, he might assume this to be only a sculpture, and not a living being. He might wonder if he had been tricked, and if some unseen enemy hovered nearby laughing at his predicament. But he has seen the Green Knight up close, and ran him through with his own blade, and watched as the great gnarled hands pulled the greatsword from his own breast as casually as a thorn from his finger, and tossed the weapon aside as though it were a child’s plaything.  

His hands curl around the same greatsword at his belt. He has carried it for a year, this sword. It was his prize for accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and ostensibly he is here to return it. When he does, the knight will return him the same blow, and stab him through the heart. 

Was it worth it? What, after all, did he do with his fine sword? 

Ser Jaime sighs and sits on the wet ground. He can grow no more muddy and disheveled than he is already. He left King’s Landing in his extravagant golden armor, wearing his lion’s helm, and riding the finest horse in his stable. But he arrives in the Green Chapel on foot, with no helm, dressed in shabby clothing and battered bits of armor. Even his golden hair is shorn, and only a thin growth of hair remains of his famous golden curls. 

The only thing of value remaining to him is the sword. And to be quite honest, the Green Knight is welcome to it. If he could, he would exchange it for something much more valuable that he had found, and then lost, along the way.

It had taken many weeks to get him here. There were some diversions - misadventures, a strange episode in a Keep, and a good deal of wandering around lost - but he has come a very long way from Robert’s Court to find himself here. He had managed the journey only with the help of his squire.

The girl had joined him on the road on the very first day. She was part of the crowd that had followed him from the gates, those knight-hopefuls who so frequently followed his footsteps around the city. Most wanted some of his glory, hoped for it to spill onto them by mere proximity. Some wanted merely to see him meet his fate, others to be part of that tale if they could. But there was very little glory in this journey. They had been beset by bandits, wild animals, bad weather, and strange side-tracks from almost the very start

There had been six, even eight of them at a time, during the ride through the Westerlands, but as he traveled further and further from the capital and the weather worsened their number dwindled, and by the tenth night there was only her. Her name was Brienne. If she had another he has already forgotten it.

She was a strange girl, ungainly large, and dressed all in armor, in imitation of a knight. She had a face like rotten fruit, softly misshapen. Her straw-blonde hair, ruddy and pox-marked skin, and stubborn pout completed the picture. Her very presence proved subtly irritating. If a maid cannot be beautiful she might at least keep herself out of sight; or else be a servant, who are barely women to begin with.

His followers quickly decided to make a servant of her. This did not go well. Ser Jaime came upon her fighting three of the men on the third night. One of them had blood streaming from his nose already, another was sitting on the ground looking dazed from a blow to the head. The last was seemingly unfazed by the fate of the other two, and Ser Jaime observed him take a good punch to the chin that left him spitting out teeth. They were trying to steal her supper, she said. The girl should be cooking for us all, the men said. 

“She is my squire”, Ser Jaime told them, deciding upon it at that very moment. “She will cook supper for only me.”

“Like hell I will,” the ungrateful wench spat at him. 

Ser Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to be a knight or not? First you must be a squire.”

She did at that. She did wish it, very much. He can see it in her eyes -- striking blue eyes, with a determined gaze. 

Brienne did cook his supper, the next night, over the campfire. Not very well, and he did not insist again. But she also tended his armor and sword, and that she did very well indeed. She handled his greatsword with tremendous respect and care, such that it touched him to see. He had long since stopped being impressed by the blade, after carrying it for a year. 

Brienne proved a loyal squire, if not the most typical one. When wolves attacked she proved herself courageous, stood herself well in front of older and more experienced men. When there was work to be done she would be first to do it, and without being asked: gathering firewood, tending the horses. Drudgery she avoided, but practical, necessary things she performed without complaint. 

She had very blue eyes. Sky eyes, clear and bright. He would have liked to look at them, except that she would be looking back, and that seemed to frighten her. She did not like to look him in the face. A shy maid, for all her armor and prickly temperament. He liked to tease her, and tell bawdy jokes with the other men until her face turned a pleasant pink.

A skirmish with the Brave Companions lost three of his would-be-knights and all of their horses,and it lead to their capture for a brief time. When they managed to escape, they were left traveling afoot, and without their supplies. His other followers drifted off then, losing their taste for adventure. Only the girl remained, and walked beside him along the road North uncomplaining through the long days ahead.

She was good with a blade, better than most. Not so good as Ser Jaime, who had a prodigious talent. But on the occasions he challenged her to spar with him, she got his blood up and roaring in a way he had not felt since he was a young man himself, and all his adventures before him.

She was kind. Too reserved to be gregarious, but generous in spirit. She took pity on every foundling, every poor farmer and milkmaid they encountered along the way. She wanted to help them, rescue them all; if he had not restrained her they would have been fighting for the honor of each individual cow from the Westerlands to the Neck. She was much disappointed that they hadn’t. What is a knight for, if not that?

She would learn, as he once had. The Knights of Robert’s Kingdom were more tarnished than a starry-eyed squire suspected. Heroes and legends in tales were only men in the flesh, and men with a bit of money and renown all went the same way. Given the best of everything they would indulge themselves, would grow greedy, would came to expect what had once been freely given. They fought not for gods and country but for glory, and mainly fought each other. They plundered wealth and women, sat by roaring fires, went slow, went soft, forgot hunger and killing cold. 

Honor was a facade, nothing more. To become a knight was to learn it. It made him glad she would never be knighted, and fail that lesson.

“Entertain me, squire,” he said to her as they rode side-by-side, needling her. “I have heard all of the songs and stories of this land, and they bore me. Tell me a tale of yourself, Squire Brienne. What adventures set you on this course to become a knight?”

She bowed her head. “I have no tales to tell, my lord. It is only a wish, and an aspiration. But I have no adventures but the one we are on now. But you, my lord, are a famous knight, and must have many stories to tell. I would be honored to hear them from your own lips.”

Ser Jaime had hundreds of tales. He has boasted of his adventures to innumerable audiences as they looked on him admiringly, the great Golden Knight. Wins at tourney, duels with other knights, riding to war for King Robert. But for some reason, as he turned them over in his mind, he discarded each of his favorite stories one by one. He did not want to tell them now; those stories are not for her.

“I also have no tales to tell,” he said.

“Are you not on a quest, my lord?” She looked over at him quizzically, her blue eyes innocent. “I hear tell you are riding to the Green Chapel in the north…”

“I am, and to meet the Green Knight. But even I am not so bold as to tell that tale when I do not yet know its ending. But it sounds like you could, Squire Brienne.”

Again she frowned at him for that title. But she did know the bare outlines of the story, how the strange Green Knight had rode into King Robert’s court and invited the bravest and boldest of his knights to face him in battle, to strike a single blow and receive a blow in return, and for it they would gain his greatsword as a prize. How the Golden Knight had taken up the challenge, and in a blow of great talent and precision stabbed the Golden Knight through the heart, finding the weakest point in his armor on a single try. But instead of falling down dead, the Green Knight had easily pulled the blade from his own chest and mounted his horse. He told the Golden Knight to meet him in one year at the Green Chapel, where he would return his blow. 

“And I see you do not hesitate to keep your word,” Brienne concluded the tale. “You are as bold and brave as all the stories say. But what will you do when you get there?” 

“Fight him, I suppose.” Ser Jaime’s hand tensed around the ruby-encrusted pommel of his borrowed sword. 

“Ser?” She blinked back at him in confusion.

“What, you expected I would meekly bow my head and be murdered? Of course not.” Ser Jaime’s shoulders shook. “Twas not a fair bargain, when he has such dark magic that he can take a sword through the heart and survive. I have no such magic, and it isn’t a fair exchange.”

“But you did not have to strike a deathblow. By the bounds of the agreement you might have only scratched him, and taken only a scratch in return.”

Well, yes. In hindsight, that would have been wiser. If he had taken the time to think it over, he might have put that together. But by nature he rarely takes that time. 

“He was a large and fearsome Knight, and I thought only to prevent the return blow. Of course if I had known he would survive it I would have acted differently. I know it now. And when I see the Knight this time I will fight him with everything I have, and he will fight me with everything He has, and we will see who is the victor.”

“But you made a promise…” She sounded faintly disappointed, and it irritated him greatly.

“It was a trick, girl. A trick to snare a knight by his honor. Would you have me die for a trick? What good will that serve? No, I will keep my appointment as promised, but he will have to work to land his blow against me. I’ll have my skill and my wit to defend me, as he had his magic.”

“Are you not afraid, Ser?”

“Afraid to fight? Never. It will be a fine duel, perhaps the finest of my life, and I am eager for it. It will be the battle that will make my legend, the kind that songs are sung of, and I look forward to that.”

Brienne said that she hoped to see it, and let the matter lie.

She did not see it, of course. They came to the Crossroads instead.

An inn stood at the crossroads, and cast-offs from the Riverlands sheltered there. Orphans and strays. Jaime and Brienne arrived only long enough to see a great many helpless faces before bandits came riding, meaning to plunder the kitchens, and carry off the women and children.

Jaime told the girls to run away as best they could, and aimed to do the same. If they were quick about it, the raiders couldn’t catch them all. 

Brienne, on the other hand, meant to defend them. They would not survive alone in the forest, she said, and if the bandits took away the food, the little ones would starve.  

“Better the bandits take them then, one or the other,” he said quickly, tugging at her. “But we had best retreat. We will not manage another fight in our condition, and not without more men.”

This was entirely reasonable, to him; better knights than he had often advised the same. There was no glory in failure, and certainly none in a pointless death in the middle of nowhere.

“No.” Brienne grew taller under his grasp, and would not be moved. “What good is a knight if he will not defend the innocent?”

“You stupid girl.” He holds her by the shoulders. “There is nothing you and I alone can do against so many men, no matter how skilled you are with a blade. They will surround us and cut us down -- it won’t even buy any time for your orphans. The best we can do is live to fight another day.”

“Someone must do something,” she says stubbornly. “I will not run.”

“Not to no avail! A battle is bravery, but this is suicide. It’s foolish, meaningless. It will make no difference whether you intervene or not - either way the women are taken and the children are killed. You will only add another body.”

“Someone must fight for them,” she insists. “Even if there is no hope. I am not enough, but if there is no one else, then it will be me.”

With that, she had shoved him in the larder, with a sudden and ferocious strength, and barred the door.

“Let me free, you stupid child!” He slammed his weight into the door sharply with his shoulder, enraged. 

He could hear her through the door, her voice steady and clear.

“Someone must fight for them. If there is no one else, then it will be me.”

“Damn you,” he swore at her. “Open the door and I will fight with you. Two against a dozen is better odds than one. Open the door!”

“You have an appointment to keep,” she said, and then there was silence.

Jaime could not see what happened after that, but he could hear it. He could hear the disdainful laughter of the brighands, and the drawing of many blades. He could hear for a time the blades clashing, and much shouting, and one unfamiliar cry of pain, and for a brief moment he was hopeful that she might prevail. She was a talented swordfighter. If they fought her one at a time he had no doubt she could best them.

He could tell, even without seeing, that they did not. The fight turned, became a slaughter. He heard a single cry that he knew in his gut was Brienne, taking a blow she would not survive. There came more noise then, more steel and blows, and then the screams of the women and children being dragged from the Inn. 

He screamed too. He wept, and clutched at his useless greatsword in a rage, wanting to throw himself through the door and impale himself on them like an arrow, these animals who would dare to touch a true knight. None of them seemed to hear him, or proved interested in the larder.

He didn’t know how long he had been left sitting there on the floor, with tears on his face and the earthy smell of raw meat weighting him down in the cool darkness. He waited for one of them, any of them, to remember him in the kitchens and come back, but no one did, and that was how he knew that no one remained. He wondered if he would be left there to rot. To moulder away with the bits of cheese and bread that remained there until he was nought but bones and a borrowed sword.

Eventually, quietly, a small boy with enormous eyes unbarred the door, having emerged from his hidey-hole only hours after the vicious intruders had left. Seeing Jaime huddled in the dark, he fled again and hid himself away in the Inn.

Jaime emerged into the twilight reluctantly. When he looked down the road, he imagined he could see them. The prisoners being taken away in the back of some wagon, women and children and women who were really children still, huddled together and weeping, down the long road and away. It was all for nothing, all of this. The brigands had taken them anyway.

There was no glory in this defeat. There was only a bloodstreaked trench in the mud where a terrible battle occurred, and in the middle of it a sad heap of metal. She was unrecognizable there, cut to pieces. Only a few strands of pale blonde hair remained to know her by.

The blacksmith’s armory had implements enough to break the cold ground. He dug a hole right beside the crossroads while the rain bucketed down on him. His chest hurt from the strangled sob caught in it. He put her in the hole and blanketed her again with the mud. If there had been flowers anywhere in that season in all the land he would have found them and laid them there above her grave. One day, he hoped, grass would grow. 

It was a meaningless gesture, and made no difference to the blue-eyed girl. But it meant something to Jaime.

It was not meaningless to them, the shivering children and the sad-faced women riding away in the wagons. They had looked back, mournfully, at the place in the road where her body lay. Looked back down the long road, into the distance, through the rain and the trees and the tramping feet of the bandits’ horses and out of sight, and they kept looking. They would look back long after the rain and wind had wiped away any traces of what had happened there. They would not forget. When the enemy came for them, someone took up a blade in their cause. Someone thought they mattered. Someone thought they were worth dying for. They did not face their fate alone. 

When evil comes, so long as at least one person stands against it, there is still some light left in the world. 

He left the shovel there in the road and went back to the Inn. It took some time to locate the boy and persuade him to come out of the trunk where he had hidden himself. He carried the boy with him North to the next village, where he left him wordlessly at the Sept, and turned North again, alone.

The rain never stops now. The ground is crusted with snow and the air is wet and mossy and somehow the rains never wash anything away. It only soaks into the dirt and grime and ice and blood and weighs it down. Makes it heavier. Makes everything impossibly heavy. 

There are more strange things that happen to him then: how the road curves and wanders beneath his feet and doubles him back to the start as though trying to throw him off his course. There were strange dreams, and visions, and he walks in a sort of fever. Nothing seems quite real after the Crossroads, nothing except the sword in his hand and his goal: the Green Chapel. He has an appointment to keep.

He grows only more determined to reach his destination. 

The nights grow colder. He wakes up shivering, rolling over, trying to wake the embers of the fire, and every time his eyes open they are looking for the foolish girl in her armor. They find only blackness and he remembers then the crossroads and the hole he dug besides the road.

He missed her terribly.

He misses her still, sitting here before the Green Knight. It is a persistent ache, a weight that grows heavier by the day. It makes him feel ancient to contemplate. He sounds like one of the rusty old knights who cluster around Robert, lamenting the roads not taken, the women they might have settled down with. Lost loves. It has been only days and yet it seems like years ago, and a road already overgrown and impassable. He can see it already, the enormity of his mistake. His life might have become something entirely different, improbably better. The opportunity came to him, and he wasted it. 

Brienne. The Maiden Knight. She could have been his lady love and his brother-at-arms all at once. Would anything have been so perfectly suited to him as that? He will never find her like again, and even if he did he would not want it; he will only want her, for the rest of his life. 

Jaime muses over these memories through the hours. The journey, the past, the world around him. Time seems to settle into a hazy blur.

The sun rises slowly, impossibly slowly. He cannot see it past the trees, but the world gradually brightens, with gentle insistence. The greens grow ever more lush and verdant all around him. The wall where the Green Knight stands turns from grim grey to a lively grass color, the dark ivy wound around in loops that seem to form an altar of deep mossy overgrowth around the still and sleeping form of the Knight.

His hands worry at the hilt of the greatsword that he had come to return.  He might leave the blade on the altar and go. Would that fulfill his word? 

What did Jaime do with his famous sword, during the year he had it? Only held it aloft for others to see. Used it to threaten, and to cajole. Boasted of it to other lords. But the only time he had just cause to draw it he had chosen to retreat instead, and in doing lost the only thing of any value he had ever found. 

If only he had gone with her. Agreed right at the first, without hesitation. If he had stood at her side it might have ended differently. One had no chance, but two, perhaps, might have survived. He might have taken her with him to the Green Chapel. He might have taken her home to the King. He might have seen her made a knight, and stood proudly beside her at the king’s table. The tales he might have made with her, he would be proud to tell.

The Knight’s form comes into clearer and clearer relief: looming over him, impossibly tall, improbably wide. 

Jaime knows with cold certainty that the Knight is going to wake very soon. As the light grows stronger, the Green Chapel is waking around him with a thousand tiny movements. He can almost make out the subtle sound of leaves uncurling to the sun, and worms crawling in the earth.

The sword, Oathkeeper, quivers in his hands, as though outraged. How did he dare to carry that blade to this place intending to lie? To break his promise? More and more he thinks he did not. He came here for something else entirely. 

Jaime finds, for the first time that he can remember, his hands are trembling. It is one thing to go to battle, but another entirely to go to an execution. His heart beats in his ears with a deep drumbeat of doom... doom... doom...

He’s not here to fight a duel, is he? What, then, is he here for?

Glory? Judgement? Mercy? Absolution? 

Or only the cold, mechanical means of his inevitable end? 

Was all this journey only for that? Is he truly here only to get a blade through his chest? And if so, might it be worth his while? After all, is there any better way for a knight to die? Will it not be a fitting end to his legend?

But he isn’t ready to die. Not willingly. Not without redeeming his honor, making something of himself. If he had another year… but would he do any more with that than he had the last? Than he has with all of the years thus far? Is there any amount of time that would make any more of himself than he has already?

The time he needed was these weeks on the road with Brienne. That showed him what kind of man he’d like to be. But he failed her when it mattered most. Perhaps he should be judged for that. Not a year from now, nor twenty. Today.

The sun rises higher in the sky, and paints the Green Chapel gold. The air warms, and birdsong calls to him on the breeze. The day is relentlessly pleasant, with a promise of endless more such days to follow. A bittersweet longing fills him. It has never seemed half so lovely to be alive as it does in this beautiful place. If only he could have brought her here.

I will be brave, he says to himself. Like Brienne.

All at once there is a great creaking sound of wood bending and tearing, and when Jaime looks up the green altar is moving. Green leaves tremble and wave purposefully, and twigs and small branches snap and fall away to rest in the dirt below. The trunk of the altar pulls itself free, excavates itself from the enclosure in the leaves and branches. Limbs pull free, and something nearly human rises out of the green, the bark of its skin glistening, newborn.

The Green Knight is standing.

Jaime looks up, and up, and up, from where he sits on the mossy floor of the green chapel, and his hand grips the hilt of his sword.

He is ready to fight, by instinct, and to flee, by sudden impulse. He is afraid, he realizes, afraid in a way he has never been before. There is more than a blow to the heart to fear here. There is the fate of his soul, which is suddenly entirely in question. Before his journey he had no doubt of his own worth as a knight, and now he is just as certain in the opposite direction. Is he worthy? He is not. He is not. 

Slowly, he stands. The sun shines down on him through the same corridor in the trees where he had watched the stars the night previous, and its warmth is a rebuke; why should the sun shine upon one such as him? He is the golden knight no more. He is only a man, a man with a sword that does not belong to him. 

His eyes raise last of all. 

Jaime finds through the golden light the Green Knight’s face. The eyes first, through a thin bloom of leaves and moss, and then the nose, the jawline. He has never seen it so clearly before, not even when he had stabbed her through the heart. With slow realization his eyes travel down and up again, taking in the shape of his host, and her nature.

The Green Knight is a woman? Why didn’t he realize it before?

It seems only too clear now. The slight narrowing of the waist and wrists, and in the face… not a pretty face, but undeniably feminine. Full lips, round cheeks, and the eyes...

Blue eyes. Beautiful blue, sad blue, noble and sorry. The lost blue of long-forgotten clear skies. 

When he sees them his hands stop shaking. All is well. His grand sword slips from his fingers and settles softly in the grass, sinks gently into the ground, is welcomed.

“It’s you,” he says. “I’m glad it’s you.”

The girl from the Crossroads is standing before him. 

He doesn’t understand how it is possible. Was she always the Knight? Was all an illusion? Was the Knight in disguise when he met her, or was the Knight once that girl? But it doesn’t matter. Whoever she is, she is here now, and it is good and right that this happen to him. 

Her voice is low and rusty, like a hinge that has not moved in many years, and slow in its opening.

“You... kept... our appointment,” the Knight creaks.

His mouth is gone dry. “One year hence. You gave me time enough. And so I am here.” 

He thinks he sees her smile, faintly. With the crackling sound of breaking branches, the Knight gestures to his feet.

“You... dropped your sword... my Lord.” Ser Jaime glances down at Oathkeeper, already disappearing beneath the twining vines on the forest floor. “Is it not time... for our blades to cross? A duel to make your legend?”

“I made you a promise,” he says faintly, and puts a hand over his unguarded heart. “It seems my word is all I have, and if it means nothing to anyone else, it means something to me.”

She smiles. An oaken hand reaches out and touches him on the face, gently. “My brave knight.”

Her eyes are the bluest skies he has ever seen. He is not afraid. Not anymore.

“Are you ready?” she asks him, still stroking his cheek.

“Yes.” He is eager for it now. “Strike your blow.”

“Straight through the heart,” she agrees. Then she reaches out with her other hand to touch the other side of his face.

She kisses him.

#dreadwulf fic #jaime lannister #braime

[writing-in-april]

Paint me

Laurent LeClaire x Female Reader

Summary: Reader finally has enough money to splurge on getting herself painted for the first time in her life. When she meets her painter, Laurent, she wonders whether she got more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Hello everyone- sorry this ones out a bit late tonight- I had practice and had to finish up a few things on this one after. This is my tenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- can’t believe we’re 1/3 through 🙈If y’all have ever seen In Secret you know what scene inspired this fic asdjksdj lol 😂 also @propertyofabelmorales fic from Valentine’s Day also inspired me 🥰 I low key probably spent more time on this than necessary considering he isn’t a very popular character but I couldn’t help myself 😅 In secret was actually the first movie (that wasn’t Star Wars) that I saw Oscar Isaac in so Laurent low key has my heart- even with his murderous tendencies 😂 I always love hearing from my followers so feel free to drop an ask or request here. Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Reader is fearful of Laurent, Reader thinks Laurent might kill her, Dubcon, Oral sex (F receiving), Unprotected sex, Creampie- if any other warnings need to be added let me know

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2K

Being painted was an important status symbol in this life. To have your image captured for all to see, put down on canvas by paint from a brush was a way of showing off beauty to the people around you, and the people that came after.

You were elated to have your image captured on canvas for the first time, finally able to afford it on your own. A rare sight in the world that you lived in to see a woman able to pay the fee of having her portrait painted.

Such a rare sight it was that when you had chosen a painter and contacted him he had almost seemed confused. When he had asked if you had a husband you had snorted turning up your nose to then tell him no. It was not that you did not want any sort of romantic touch, but being tied down to someone for years that would probably not cherish you the way you deserved sickened you. So, with no one around to pressure you into an arranged marriage you remained unmarried.

The painter you had hired, Laurent, was sweet as honey, almost to a sickly degree. The charm had remained even after he had realized that you were alone, basically a spinster. Whether or not he kept up the act because he thought it would be easier to get underneath your skirts or because he truly did not mind an independent woman did not matter to you. You would only let your gaze linger over while he painted you, that was all. He was here to paint you, nothing more.

He had positioned you in a chair to sit in a simple position. His reasoning for that he told you was that the simpler the position, the easier it was for your beauty to shine. Painters had a way with words though, so you tried not to let your heart swell from the compliment.

You let yourself stare in each session as he began to lay out the foundation of your likeness. Each time you sat in the chair time ticked by slowly, inch by inch. It was not as if you minded as it let you look upon how his inky curls shone in the dim lighting, plus every other part your eyes were allowed access to. It was only fair in your book, considering his job was to stare at you.

This session you were in now seemed different to the others; he seemed more distant. While you both stared at the other not a single word was exchanged, only the brush on canvas got to speak today with each stroke.

It was harder to concentrate this time on staying as still as possible. You ached to move your legs over, just a bit to the side. Daring to test the waters, hoping he would not notice, your legs twitched a little over to the right.

For a while he continued to say nothing, painting with ease like he had completely missed the twitch in your legs. That was until he decided to speak for the first time in hours,

“No-“ His face twisted, morphing into a look tinged with darkness. It was this first sign of displeasure you had heard from your hours of sitting as if you had a rod in your spine. Dipping his brush back into his paints again to find his desired color was a much more rushed action than before. It was an annoyed and quick movement, trying to swiftly correct the mistake you had assumed he had made. When he returned his brush where it belonged on his canvas it scraped along it as he pushed the paint along, molding it into his image.

Another moment goes by silently and with no more words of displeasure; you begin to relax into your position again. It was already hard to relax fully while his eyes flitted from your body to his canvas; your nerves only raised higher after his outward sign of displeasure. He scrutinized every angle and curve as his eye took in every inch of you to create an accurate portrait of you. You wondered if in his fee there was an understanding that he would paint you in the highest light possible. Though, truth be told it was foolish to question that. What type of painter would he be if he displeased his clients by being honest in his paintings?

It was in his job description to lie. Painters depicted the beauty they saw and made it shine, even if that meant trying to find beauty in the darkest of corners to forcefully shed a light on them. All it took was a painter of proper skill, a canvas, and of course a set of paints. Any unwilling features that tried to fight their painters lies would be forcefully bent to their will, almost like a king, and all with a simple stroke to canvas. No, you weren’t ugly, but you accepted that it was his job to bend the truth to his will.

The darkness you had briefly observed reappeared on his face once more. He tried to be quiet in his frustration, but his whisper could not contain the anger brewing beneath. Truthfully his words were a far cry from a whisper, it was more of a shout, “It is not right!”

Naturally you wanted to question what had made the painter suddenly rise with anger, though you wisely kept your mouth shut tight. You did not know this man, nor did you know what he could be capable of underneath the sweet words. The darkness that brewed glinted in his eyes as he took his brush to canvas again, this time with more venom in his strokes.

You were not going to trust the honeyed words he had spoken to you, at least not now while you saw how the honey could possibly be sour. Even though honey never turned acrid in common knowledge, the sight before you disproved that. Each new brush against his canvas turned violent, almost as if he’d push through the canvas with how much force he was using and create a hole.

You could have left the room in a hurry, or even demanded him leave. After all, it was you that employed him. Watching honey that soured so quick intrigued you, so the rod stayed in your spine, though you knew it was naive of you. You couldn’t trust his words, but you could still listen to them.

Brush after brush splattered paint onto the canvas in front of him that you could not view. His once dexterous movements had devolved into a man you did not know, not that you truly knew him beforehand either. You couldn’t imagine he was painting anything close to your likeness; you highly doubted long irritated strokes would be good for each of your contours and curves.

Clattering noises filled the air of the room you were both trapped in, one trapped by his job and one trapped by curiosity. You hoped the curiosity didn’t kill you like the cat. He had kicked the easel that held the painting he was being paid for, which had caused the clattering. Gripping the paintbrush in his hand with fury he then separated it from the canvas and began to pace.

As he paced your mind wandered further; it was all it could do while it was stuck observing the man before you spiral. You wondered if he had forgotten your presence, even if he had been painting you- and you had even been doubting that.

Clearly he hadn’t forgotten about you as he suddenly stopped his pacing, slowly turning to face you again. His gaze no longer flitted between two things calling his attention, now fully focused on you, still with that rod in your spine.

“It is you.” He spoke with a deadly bite and you could not help but have your bottom lip wobble at his accusation. Racking your brain you tried to find why you were the one that was the source of his wrath and why you were the one that was about to receive it. “You are not in the right position.”

You wanted to protest, saying that you had not moved a muscle since he had placed you in this exact position with your spine rigid in a chair. The protest became stuck in your throat, no doubt because of the fear you now held for the darkness that brewed underneath. You remained stoically silent, rigid as ever, waiting for him to mold you into the position that he wanted you in.

He twirled his paintbrush in his hand absentmindedly while he thought. You did not know what he was pondering, though you had to guess it had something to do with fixing how you were positioned. He answered your own curious thoughts by confirming them, “You need to relax.”

Relaxing, that was hard enough earlier when you had not had fear put in you. Still, you tried to let go of the tension held tightly in your shoulders forcefully just as he did whenever he forced your features to look their best in his painting.

He then sighed, obviously displeased with your effort. Instead of letting you try again he simply gave you an order to ‘stay still’ while he began to approach you with his paintbrush in hand.

As the paintbrush approached you instead of the canvas you could not help but tremble as it came closer. It was not any sort of weapon that could do you any harm; it would take a lot to hurt someone with a paintbrush. Still, you quivered as it approached, perhaps more because of the gaze that was transfixed on you.

Laurent’s gaze was wild, a hint of madness was evident in his eyes. They were two dark pools of almost black fixed upon you as if they were set on devouring you in the oblivion in their depths. Eyes were said to be the window to the soul and Laurent did little to make you doubt that claim. He did not give you soothing words as he saw you tremble beneath his daunting gaze and the slowly approaching bristles of the paintbrush, still partially coated in the color he had last been using. Instead of giving you the soothing words you may have desired the paintbrush crept closer, like it was stalking you in the night just as the obsidian pools he called eyes.

Your quivers were not solely because of the glint of madness you could see, hiding in the depths of his eyes. It would be a lie to say that all your quivers and shivers were rooted in the fear as to what he might do to you if you dared move from the position he had placed you in hours beforehand. Something else akin to desire had found itself at home run in through your veins, unburdened by the worries of what the black pools might be hiding in their abyss.

That feeling, the one that was running through your veins in spite of the lingering fear, was soon guiding your body. You were no longer staying rigid in your position out of fear; you wanted him to touch you, even if only with the tips of his brush.

He knelt down when close enough to then reach to lift up your skirts. You were scarcely breathing now, still afraid yet intrigued as to what a man could do with a simple paint brush. Opening your legs up at the approach of his paintbrush would have been indecent to some, but you could not help yourself. Biting your lip hard enough to possibly draw blood was so you did not move into his touch, letting him come to you as you did not want to incite his wrath. You wanted him to touch you with it, despite that fear of those black pools staring fiercely at you.

The soft bristles finally grazed the inner flesh of your thigh, a small tickle running through the nerves connected to the spot it touched. You could’ve been fooled into thinking that it had been the brush of his hand if your own eyes hadn’t been fixated upon him.

You moved your position just a hair, maybe even smaller than the ones on the paintbrush used to move you.

“There.” His whisper breathless, now devoid of the darkness that had stifled any sweetness.

You ached to hear him say it again, it was not a praise for you in the strictest sense. He had been simply readjusting you, hardly any room or need for any praise. The way he had whispered it along with the whisper of the brush upon your skin made it feel like he was praising you. Before you knew what was happening or considered the consequences you chased the brush he had begun to pull back with your thighs.

The darkness quickly came back on his face when he had noticed you had moved to chase his touch. He began to bark out a command to put you back in your place, even though he was the painter, and you, the client. “Sit ba-“

“Brush me again.” Your plea was too beautiful for him to let it go unanswered, even though you had cut him off. There no doubt was still lingering fear inside you, afraid of what he might do in retaliation.

He surprisingly obliged you, you could see his curiosity meld with the darkness in him. He lifted your skirts again, holding the brush just above the spot where he had touched moments before.

When he brushed the inner flesh of your thigh again, the pressure was harder, less unsure.

That simple touch made you moan, even though he wasn’t touching any spot that normally might bring you pleasure. It was as if a dark shadow had cascaded across his face to blur your perception of who he probably was underneath it all. If it wasn’t for your curiosity and your simple desire you would have thought more critically about his next request.

“Take off your dress.” Like someone without a thought you stripped it off of you in haste, as did he with his own clothes.

In no time at all it seemed, his mouth had enveloped your own, keen on devouring all you had to offer. He picked you up with ease by the tops of your now naked thighs so he could lower you to the floor. He then allowed himself to nip and suck on any section of skin he desired to put his mouth on. Not that you could reciprocate as he had your hands held above your head.

When his fingers started to dance along the tops of your thighs just as the brush had done you instinctively pushed your thighs together. The action was quickly reversed by Laurent releasing your hands to push your thighs apart, giving him an unobstructed view of your entrance.

His mouth was soon swiftly on the places that brought you pleasure, sucking your pearl into his mouth like a sweet.

You wanted to writhe underneath him out of sheer pleasure, but he did not need to bind you to make you immobile. That fear still lingering in your mind kept your body still, even as he combined his mouth with his fingers by pushing them into your entrance.

“There?” He whispered as he crooked them upwards, trying to find the spot that would make you see stars. It wasn’t quite right though, so you shook your head side to side. You didn’t dare to speak, not that you could do anything more but making unintelligible moans of pleasure.

“There.” He whispered with finality when he hit that somewhat spongy spot inside you making you cry out louder than before. It was so nice to hear him say those words again, honeyed words that tasted so sweet even though they were tainted by darkness. Your release shot through you quickly, like an arrow sent to kill you.

He removed his fingers from you when you were finished with your first release of the night, wasting no time to push himself inside you. He was larger than any other man you had been with, stretching you blissfully and almost painfully. You were lucky he was not too cruel to not let you adjust to his size, but as soon as you had he unleashed himself upon you. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and let him thrust into you at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin slapping on skin were so loud they almost over took the moans you were emitting along with his grunts.

When his hand came to wrap around your neck your own mortality became evident to you. Early before you had succumbed to his touch with a simple brush, you had been afraid he might harm you, even with the desire pumping through your blood. You had not even thought of beyond a simple bruise or cut to your flesh by him. His hand around your throat while he thrusted into you made you wonder how much it would take for him to squeeze until your lips turned blue.

Desire one again took over your fear, his hand around your neck combined with the sweet nothings whispered in your ear made you fall apart again. It was a slow devastating release like honey dripping off a spoon languidly until it dropped down to sweeten the pot. Even though his own honey had turned sour, he still was fully capable of making people feel sweetness while shrouded in darkness.

He filled you soon after you had finished your own release with a grunt. Neither of you had any real care to be able to give to the possible consequences of him filling you. He rolled off of you and you were glad in the moment he didn’t crush you under his weight like most men would have done.

Silence seemed to be a staple item that constantly wormed its way in between the two of you. No one spoke for a while, truthfully it might have been an hour. Laurent was the first to break it again, with much less malice than before,

“Do you want me to continue to paint you?” He whispered into your skin as he continued to pepper his plush lips across your skin. Glancing up towards the easel that still faced the canvas away from you and then over to the bare man next to you helped aid you in your decision. You could let him leave with wasted paints, wasted canvas, and wasted potential.

The wasted potential was what stopped you from letting him paint the rest of the angles of your body. Pondering what could come of the painting, and your relationship with the man who had just made you see stars while simultaneously making you fear or your life at the same time made you frown. The possibilities were endless, but those two black pools hid something too interesting for you to ignore. You wanted to know more, even ached for it.

“Yes.” You simply replied and you then willingly fell into the abyss.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith — grr tumblr is still being stupid

People who might be interested 🤷‍♀️: @propertyofabelmorales @sergeantkane @foxilayde

#laurent leclaire x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x reader #in secret #30 fics in 30 days #oscar isaac fanfic

[the-broken-truth]

Can you do yandere bully damian wayne with fem reader how is a 🐺🔥🥋 🛡 🏹 🏠 she is like demon Hunter in Gotham and sometimes batman call for her help with joker/villains and goes to Gotham academy

They Heated each other guts and she tolerated him for her best friend Jonathan Kent

Damian was dating raven how was using him as cashcow

one day in park damian get drugged and kidnapped and reader saw all the and follow there car to save him after killing his kidnappers and heal him she comfront him and tell him everything is going to be alright and give him her jacket (which he will keep it for eternity) she dropped him to his house after buying him something to eat when damian get to his father house he sees the no-one care of what happened to him they saw the he got kidnapped and they didn't care at all but reader did and the how the obsession began

*STATIC*: An Obsessive Love Born From Loathing Hate? A Golddigger, as well? Quite an interesting request we have here, Broken.

Broken Truth: That we do, so let's see what words weave together from this.

Quick Note: The name of the reader shall be Kacela - The name means 'Huntress' and is of African Origin. Just like Damien, she is a rich kid but not because her parents are rich - her human parents abandoned her and she started her own business; it's well-known but not on the same level as Wayne Enterprises.

Broken: SORRY IT'S LATE! I'VE BEEN BUSY!

- THE RUNED HUNTRESS -

[On Top Of Gotham's Rooftops - Across from a besieged Research Facility]

[The Joker was at it again but this time he wasn't working alone - he enlisted the aid of Clayface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Riddler, and Penguin to take hold of a Research Lab that contained something each member of the crime group wanted; how Joker knew this and managed to use to persuade the villains into working with him is something The Dark Knight couldn't quite figure out. What he did know was that he was going to need some help.]

[At the moment, Damien (Robin)., Dick (Nightwing), and Barbara (Batgirl) were the ones of the Bat-Family that were with him at the moment but the 4 of them weren't going to be enough and - as much as he hated it - he needed aid from a power beyond what his gadgets and training could do.]

Damien (Walks over to Batman, who is standing on the edge looking at the facility): Father, why are we still waiting while those criminals are making a mess of the place?

Bruce: Because we're waiting for someone.

Damien: Who? We have enough people, we can take them.

Bruce: Don't be foolish, Damien. It's the four of us up against seven of Gotham's Worst, plus they have hostages and have access to unknown tech or substances that could put us at a disadvantage. The person I called has abilities unlike our own and can help us a great deal.

[Damien opened his mouth to protest when a smell hit his nose - it smelled like something was burning.]

Dick (Sniff-Sniff): Does anyone else smell something burning.

Barbara: It smells like brimstone.

Bruce: She's here.

[Nightwing opened his mouth to question who 'she' was when a burst of red light from a ball of fire came shooting upward from the edge of the building before falling and landing in the clear space. The ground was scorched from the fire impact and cinders flowed around the air and lined along with the black marks up everyone looked at the person - or creature - that caused it.]

[The creature was large and muscular the body of a wild canine - a wolf - but it stood on 2 legs; except, wolves didn't have 2 horns on their foreheads. The forearms of the beast were scarred with runes that were glowing red against the black fur. The creature began to stand on 2 legs - its height towered over Bruce - and opened its eyes to reveal eyes made from hellfire. The humanoid wolf opened its jaws - letting the hot smoke out - as it began to speak to the Head of the Bat-Family.]

Wolf Creature: Dark One (What she calls Bruce), I'm answering your persistent summons. Why have you decided to bother me this time?

Barbara: Summons? (Looks at Bruce) Bruce, what is that thing?

Wolf Creature (Glares at Barbara): I am not a 'Thing', I am a Wolf Demon while you are the daughter of a cop - playing dress up just to spite him and stick your pointed head where it doesn't belong.

Barbara (Points at the Wolf Creature): Hey, don't call me a...

Bruce (Raises his hand): That's enough. (Looks at the Wolf Creature) Runed Huntress, I know you told me that you're not interested in helping me but this is important. Those criminals have many innocent people captured and are trying to access some very dangerous information and products. Our gadgets can only get us so far but your power is limitless. We need your help.

Runed Huntress (Snorts - making smoke shoot out her nose and blow in Bruce's face): Very well, I shall aid you once again but - as I said before - do not make a habit out of this; you are this city's protector, not me.

Bruce (Nods): Noted. (Turns back to the building) Now, let's get a move on.

[The Bat-Family & The Runed Huntress leaped across the building rooftops until they reached the last roof that sat at the edge of the street that separated the distance of the buildings and the facility. The Bat-Family watches as the large humanoid wolf clapped her hands together and slowly brought them apart - bring a bow that looked as if it was forged from hellfire itself. The Runed Huntress took the bow in hand and did the motion of drawing back an arrow - Damian's eyes widen as an arrow materialized in her clawed hand before she releases it. It goes soar across the street and crashes into the glass dome but doesn't shatter it - it melts it away and forms a large hole, big enough for the rescue party to get inside.]

[The villains looked upon the hole of melted glass as the Bat-Family glided in and stood before the corrupted 7. The Ringleader - The Madman known as Joker - began to chuckle and clap his hands.]

Joker (Clapping): Bats! I knew you would be here! A little late to the party, don't you think?!

Bruce (Glares at Joker): I don't have time to deal with your demented mind, Joker. Release the hostages and turns yourselves in or we can do this the hard way.

Joker (Pouts and shakes his head): Oh, Batsy... Always the party pooper; no cake for you. But in case you have noticed, I outnumber you so...I don't think you can win.

[Just then - the monstrous roaring howl of the Runed Huntress echoed in the hall as she leaped through the giant hole and landed on all fours between Joker and Bruce. She glared at the villains as her jaws opened as lava leaked from the cracks of her fangs, making 2 pools on the tile floor that began to rise and form into 2 clones of herself.]

Runed Huntress (Rising to her feet as the lava clones did the same): Now...it's an even playing field.

[When Killer Croc let loose a hiss, Runed Huntress barked back at him and the two of them charged at each other - fighting as beasts knew how to. Bruce dealt with Joker, Barbara took on Harley Quinn, Dick took care of Riddler, Damian attacked Penguin, while the other two clones took on Clayface and Poison Ivy.]

[The fight ended with the villains in cuffs and loaded into Transportation Trucks, Barbara found the scientists locked in the safe - all accounted for and unharmed, but mentally scarred - Bruce was talking to Gordon while his family looked on. Damian looked off to the side and watched the large wolf walking away and ran after her as she turned into an alleyway.]

Damian: Hey, where are you going?

Runed Huntress (Looks over her large shoulder at the Wayne Family Heir): What do you want, boy? I have aided your leader, that doesn't mean I need to stay around for his talks with the Commissioner.

Damian: Just what the hell is your problem?

Runed Huntress: My 'problems' are none of your concern, Rich Boy.

[Damian opened his mouth to speak but the large beast was engulfed by a flammed vortex that erupted from the ground around her feet and covered her until it exploded into cinders - leaving Damian alone in the alley, looking at the charred circle in the ground.]

- RAVENS LIKE THINGS THAT SPARKLE -

[The Next Day: Gotham High School - Courtyard]

"I gotta go to the library to do some last-minute reading before class starts but before I forget, can I get some cash, Bae?" The Indigo-Eyed Girl asked as she looked upon the Wayne Heir.

"More? I gave you $700 just last week." Damien said as she looked at his girlfriend.

"I know but there's a sell on some rare spell tomes and I didn't want to risk someone else getting their hands on them. o, can you give me some cash?" Raven asked with a tilt of her head like a cat; making the heir exhale.

"Okay, I send another $800." Damien exhaled, earning a kiss on his cheek from the girl how had his heart before she turned and began to walk away.

"Hey, Damien!" Damien turned to see his friend Jonathan Kent walking up to him, but he wasn't alone.

Beside Jonathan was a dark-skinned female around the same height as him with golden eyes in a constant glare, She had short black hair in an undercut - only on her right side. She was wearing the Gotham High School uniform but the man one - she wasn't in comfortable skirts and she had the money to allow this. On her wrists there 2 golden bracelets - long ones that start at her wrists and end further up her forearms - that had some kind of writing on them that Damien didn't care to translate. Why didn't he care? Because he didn't like her.

"Hey." Damien said as he looked in the direction of his friend and...tolerant.

"You good, Bro? You seemed stressed out." Jonathan said with concern in his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine - Father was telling us that there is some large event tonight and he wants all of us there; no questions asked." Damien said.

"Large event? What's that?" Jonathan asked.

"He talking about Gotham's Angel Award - it's when all of Gotham's CEOs and Walking Wallets gather in one room to see who's been recognized as the most giving and kind." Kacela said as she looked at Jonathan with her arms folded.

"Funny the stray (That's what Damien calls her began she doesn't have parents, relatives, or even a surname.) knows what it is, even though you would never step foot in that place, much less get to hold an invitation." Damien said with a smirk on his face. Imagine his shock as Kacela pulls an invitation to that event from her pocket.

"You were saying, Bird Brain?" Kacela asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Damien began to get mad and Kacela glared at him when Jonathan stepped between them.

"Whoa. Whoa. No need to fight! Just relax, guys." Jonathan said as he looked between her friends. Kacela exhaled and stepped back.

"Fine. I won't fight because Jonathan asked me to." Kacela said as she glared at Damien.

"Same here, Stray." Damien glared at her too before turning back to his phone.

"Whatcha doing, Damian?" Jonathan asked.

"Sending some cash to Raven's card." He said.

"More? Didn't you send her a lot just a few days ago?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, but there was a book sale and she didn't want to miss out on the rare tomes that were for auction." Damian explained.

"Is that the song she sang to you? For someone so brilliant...you can't even see when you are being played." Kacela said as she placed her hands in her pockets and began to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean, Stray?"Damian glared at her.

"Just remember - Ravens are fond of things that gleam and shine but they are also creatures that sing songs of deception." Kacela said before she entered the building, leaving Damian and Jonathan standing there.

- THE RAVEN'S DECEPTION & TRAPPED IN THE LION'S DEN -

[After Highschool]

Damian wished his friend a good evening before getting on his motorcycle and driving out of the school's parking lot. He knew that the normal route he would take was going to be caked in traffic for the event tonight and decided to head the long way. He was coming up on the red light at the intersection of 4 famous restaurants/cafes sat at the 4 Corners. He was the first vehicle in line when a familiar voice was heard from the right - he looked and the eyes under his helmet widened when they landed on his girlfriend sitting at an outdoor table with shapeshifter of the Titans - Beast Boy a.k.a Garfield. They were sitting at the table, holding hands and smiling at each other - as if they were in love.

"So, what do you want to do this weekend?" Raven asked.

"I wanna go to the new exotic animal show but tickets to that places are stupidly expensive." Garfield said.

"Don't worry, babe; I got the money from that walking piggy bank, Damian." Raven said.

"You got more? I thought he gave you some a few days ago." He said.

"Yeah, I just told him I spent the money on tomes and he gave me $700 more. All I have to do is pout and he'll give me whatever I want." Raven smirked at the notion and Garfield laughed.

Damian felt so bad about what he just heard - when the car behind him hooked their horn to let him know the light was green, he floored it and began driving down the main streets before the tears in his eyes began to blind him and he stopped on the edge of the park, took his helmet off and hid his face in hands - sobbing; showing the weakness of the Al Ghul.

His heart was broken - the one he loved was using him for a wallet for the shapeshifter and he was too blind to see it. The words Kacela said before she left that day - she was warning him that Raven was disloyal to him. The one he hated was the one who warned him.

He was so caught up in his crying that he didn't see the hooded figure sneaking up behind him and smacking him off the bike with a metal pipe in the back of his head. His world got dark when he heard the words.

"We got Wayne's Brat - we're in for a huge payday, boys." the fading voice chuckled until Damian faded into nothingness of mind.

[Around 2 Hours Later]

"Wake up, pretty boy!" someone commanded as he slapped the Wayne Heir wake - he was tied to a chair in the center of an unknown warehouse with 6 Thugs surrounding him - all of them with weapons in their hands.

"What? What the hell do you want from me?" Damian demanded as he glared at the man who slapped him - only for the same man to punch him in the face; Damian could taste the blood on his tongue before he felt it flowing out of his mouth as he tried to shake the daze from his head.

"We don't want shit from you, brat; we want a payday from Wayne and I know he'll pay huge racks to get his little boy back." The leader said.

"Boss, we've been calling Wayne but he ain't answering." A good said.

"Then keep calling! The sooner we finish this, the better." The boss order. Damian hung his head down - he was done for: his father wasn't answering the phone, his love breaks his heart...just what was he to do

The answer came as the window of the warehouse came crashing inward and a familiar Lycan-Shaped Figure came crashing into the room and landed on the ground on all fours before rising to its hind legs with a very pissed off glare in its eyes - the runes on its body shining in the light.

"What the hell is that?!" One of the Goons said as he tried to get his gun - only to have his head bitten off by the creature's jaws, letting his body hit the floor.

"Kill that thing! Fucking kill it!" The Boss said as he made Damian get to his feet and used his as a human by holding his arm around his neck and hold his gun at the creature that jumped around, slaughtering his men before turning to face him.

"Don't come any closer or I'll blow his brains out!" The boss said as he held the gun against Damian's head.

The Runed Huntress looked at a long metal nail that was sitting between her feet and reached down to gather it in her large clawed hand. Damian and the boss watched as the large wolfish creature twirled the nail between her fingers before flicking it on its head and sent it flying like a bullet - hitting the boss in the center of his head, making them lose his grip on Damian and slump to the ground. The Huntress ran over to Damian before he could fall and gathered him tenderly in her large arm before using the other one to cut his ropes - even free, the boy didn't move, he was too...cold.

"Damian, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" The Runed Huntress asked him as she looked at him with concerned eyes. Damian opened his mouth to speak but he noticed the bracelets on the creature's wrists - he saw them before, he saw them every day during school.

"K...Kacela?" Damian questioned as he looked into the creature's eyes again - there was a sparkle, a smile, then a small vortex of fire that revealed the human face of the one he hated at school.

"I always told you that you were brilliant, just weren't wary of the right people."Kacela said as she took off her jacket from her shoulders and placed it over Damian's, "Wear this, you're freezing." She said.

"You... You saved me? I thought you hated me - after everything I said and did to you." Damian said as he looked into her eyes.

"I never said I hated you, Damian; I said I hated the way you acted. As for saving you, I may have a beast's soul and form but I'm not a heartless monster to just let someone get hurt; not even someone who tries to me." Kacela explained before she turned back into the Runed Huntress, gathered Damian in her arms, and rose to her feet, "Now, let's get you home; you are too cold, you might be sick." she said as she turned on her heel and leaped back through the window she came through with the Wayne Family Heir in her arms.

- THE ONE YOU HATE IS THE ONE WHO CARES THE MOST -

[Wayne Manor]

The Runed Huntress landed in front of the door to Wayne Manor, using one of her hands to knock heavily on the door - it was soon opened by the Wayne Family Butler - Alfred Pennyworth.

"Hello, Madam Huntress, is there something I can help you with?" He then noticed Damian in her arms, "Is that Master Damian? Did something happen?" He asked.

"He was attacked and held for ransom but Bruce never answered the phone and he was harmed." Runed Huntress said.

"That's understandable - Master Bruce and the others are currently getting ready for the event and have asked not to be disturbed." Alfred said, making Kacela's eyes widen in anger.

"What?" She growled out. She pushed past the butler and followed Bruce's scent up the stairs to a meeting room - she barged in and - sure enough to what Alfred said - Bruce, Dick, and Barbara were all there, dressed in elegant attire; they all looked at the large wolf who barged into the room.

"Huntress? Is there something you need?" Bruce said.

"Are you serious, Bruce? Your son is in my arms, beaten & possibly sick, are you're asking me if I need something? Why didn't you answer the calls from Damian's phone?" Kacela asked.

"As Alfred told you, we're busy getting ready for the event." Bruce said.

"He's your son, Bruce Wanye - he was attacked, held for ransom, and beaten up and all you care about is this event? He could be sick, he's as cold as a block of ice." Huntress growled.

"Well, you got to him and saved him before he was hurt too bad, but since he can't come to the event, take him to bed and we will deal with him in the morning." Bruce said as he began walking do the door, past the wolf and his sick son, with his other 2. Kacela growled at him before looking at Damian.

"Where's your room?" She asked, her eyes widened when his hand grabbed her fur and held her close.

"Please... Please, don't leave me here." Damian pleaded - begged - as he tried to hold more tears while shivering.

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving you here. I need to get you some warm clothes." She explained.

Damian told her where his room was and she when there - placing him on the bed for a moment as she gathered pajamas and a new school uniform into the bag before closing it, picking Damian back up, opened the window, and the two of them disappeared into the night.

[Kacela's Loft]

*BEEP - BEEP - BEEP*

"Yeah, just as I thought - you're sick." Kacela said as she pulled the thermometer from the boy's lips and looked at the numbers. Kacela placed it on a napkin on the nightstand that was beside the bed Damian was laying in and the chair she was sitting in. "It seems to be a simple head cold - some medicine and rest should get you and running again, not to mention a good night's rest." Kacela explained.

"How come...you didn't go to the Gotham's Angels Award?" Damian asked as he looked at her with a warm feeling on his face - it must have been the cold.

"That place is full of people who just wanna get seen, not for doing right." Kacela explained before she reached on the nightstand to her phone, "You have to eat something before taking your meds and I don't feel like cooking tonight, so I'll order something. What are you in the mood for - Pizza or Burgers?" Kacela asked.

"What? You're letting me choose?" Damian asked.

"Sure, I don't usually have guests, so why the hell not?" Kacela gave a smile...and the warm feeling returned but it was stronger this time.

When the pizza arrived, Kacela helped Damian sit up, and the two of them ate while having conversations - turned out they had a lot of things in common, from their love of books to their outside activities. Damian asked Kacela a few questions about her knowing Raven was cheating on him and why she didn't tell him directly - she explained that it wasn't her place to speak on another person's relationship, plus he made it very clear that he had a dislike for her so what reason would he have to believe her? Damian apologized for his words but Kacela said she heard worse and wasn't bothered. Just before bedtime, Kacela gave him cold and sleeping medicine so he would be alright in the morning; she stayed with him until he fell into slumber before she went to sleep herself.

When the morning sun rose - Damian woke to the smell of pancakes. Kacela made them breakfast and even made sure Damian's phone was placed on the changer. Damian got dressed in a fresh outfit and went to eat with Kacela; who informed him that she got his bike and helmet from the park after he went to sleep; he thanked her, finished his breakfast, and left out the door...with her jacket.

- NOT SO BLIND ANYMORE -

"What do you mean we're over?!" Raven yelled as she stood before Damian.

"Just as I said - I'm done with you, Raven. You're nothing but a gold-digger and a liar, and you only see me as a mess to keep that green boyfriend of yours happy. I'm not giving you anything else but a hard time if you ever show your face again." Damian glared at her, causing her to huff and march away to the school building.

"Whoa, Damian." Jonathan said as he walked over, "You really broke up with her?" He asked.

"I don't have time for gold-diggers and liars." He looked around, "Where's Kacela?" he asked.

"She called and said... Wait, did you just call her by her name? I thought she was a stray?" He said but swallowed when Damian glared at her.

"Never. Call. Her. That." Damian growled.

"Okay. Okay, man - sorry." He said.

"Now, what did she tell you?" Damian asked.

"She said she couldn't come today - there are some major investors that are interested in her company and want to make a partnership, so she won't be in today." Jonathan said.

"Really? Then, I'll speak to her later." Damian said.

"Talk about what? Wait, isn't that her jacket?" He asked.

"Yes." He said, 'But it's more than just that. It's the start of what Kacela and I shall be...together.'

#yandere damian wayne