#... i did not mean to sound arrogant with the whole I Noticed These Areas Are Active thing

[russell-crowe]

i consider tornadoes to be a pretty legitimate risk when it comes to natural disasters in europe, but people tend to not have much of a grasp on them occurring outside of tornado alley in the usa. i follow this guy for a couple years now and he is a huge recommendation to follow if you are interested in tornadoes. i am grateful that he did such a well-researched video on tornadoes in europe, and i am also kinda glad that the areas he marked as most active, are the same areas i personally have considered to be remarkably active compared to others. definitely worth a watch!

[taehyungssss]

into the forest - m

word count: 3.6k

genre: smut 18+ | royal, faerie, forbidden love

pairing: fae!jungkook x fem!reader | hoseok x fem!reader (previous)

summary: as the second princess of the human kingdom, you know to fear the fae, they did wage war on your people for one thousand years after all. what happens when you meet one in the forest, and they aren’t what you imagined?

warnings: mentions of war, slut-shaming (in passing), smut scenes, mentions of rough sex/spanking, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), outdoor sex, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie

a/n: this is my first bts fic so i hope you enjoy it! thanks to all my friends for reading it and giving me feedback, you’re the best

Never trust the Fae, that’s what everyone always told you. They’re tricksters, they’re evil, all they care about is corrupting humans, and you believed them. Why wouldn’t you? As a child you were told tales of the terrifying Fae with their leathery skin, red eyes and big black horns. You would wake in the night crying for your nursemaid, afraid that there would be a Fae under your bed.

The Fae were not of legend though, they were very real, you knew this from your family history. You were not an ordinary child; you were the Second Princess of the human kingdom. Your father and mother were King and Queen respectively, and your older sister was the prized Crown Princess. Four hundred years ago your ancestor, the then King, had ended the one-thousand-year war which had occurred between your kingdom and the kingdom of the Fae. He had agreed with the Fae King to end the exhausting warfare on the condition that neither people would breach the others’ land. Since then, each community had kept to itself, neither interacting with the other, but the horror stories of the Fae remained as a cautionary tale to the brave few who wished to seek them out and break the peace.

You were currently stressed beyond belief by the trauma that was the organisation of your sister’s marriage. As the Crown Princess, therefore the next in line to the throne, she had been betrothed to the most respectable and handsome man in the whole kingdom, Lord Kim Seokjin. Your parents decided that at 23 years old it was time for your sister to finally be wed to her fiancé, and that meant hours of planning and protocol. Being the Second Princess, you were to be the maid of honour, and the dress fittings were beginning to wear you down.

Another cause of stress was that you would be the next to be married. You were yet to be betrothed to anyone, probably because your father viewed you as damaged goods after the incident with the Chief Knight, Jung Hoseok. A couple of years ago, after too much wine at a festival ball, you snuck away with Hoseok to an inconspicuous corridor. The drink had blurred both of your minds and your lips had become entangled in a passionate kiss. You still remember his lips caressing your neck and your begging of him for more. This led to your father, the King and ruler of all, finding you with Hoseok’s hand up your skirt. He definitely wasn’t pleased.

Your father had to be held back from punching Hoseok in the face and the next morning he had the guards practically drag the both of you to a private room for a discussion. He decreed that this brief relationship was not to continue under any circumstances, and if you were caught again Hoseok would be banished. Of course, you didn’t listen, but after a few months the relationship fizzled out, the thrill of getting caught wearing thin. Now Hoseok was married to a beautiful maiden, but you remained on good terms.

Part of you wished you could’ve married Hoseok, at least then there wouldn’t be any nerves. The prospect of being married to someone you were incompatible with made you cringe and feel a little sick in your stomach. No other man had ever made you feel anything, they were either too irritating or too arrogant, and you found yourself fatigued with having to dance with a different suitor at every ball, if only you could marry yourself.

This is how you found yourself riding your beloved horse, Bramble, into the Border Forest. There was nothing better than a good ride to relieve stress. However, you must have gotten carried away as you now found yourself in a part of the forest that you didn’t recognise. The flowers were different here and you couldn’t remember if you passed the red handkerchief that you’d tied to a tree many years ago to alert yourself that you were near the kingdom border. You see, the forest was generally out of bounds as it was close to the Fae kingdom, but you bent the rules on a regular basis, always making sure to stop before your self-placed marker so you didn’t accidentally break the peace treaty. Before you had a chance to panic even more, a voice called to you.

“Lost?”. You looked up to see a tall man with a mullet of black and blue hair in front of you. “Oh, thank goodness,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I thought I had wandered into the kingdom of the Fae.” The man frowned slightly. “You are in the lands of the Fae,” he replied. You froze, you must have gotten very carried away on your ride to come this far out, but the sight of a fellow human calmed you slightly. “Could you please lead me back to our kingdom?” you asked. “Our kingdom?” the man looked puzzled. “This is my kingdom.” “But you’re human?” you half-asked. The man shook his head and smiled slightly. “No, I am Fae,” the man clarified.

You suddenly felt incredibly nauseous. How could this man be Fae? Where were his red eyes or big horns? This man didn’t look like a monster, in fact he was beautiful, ethereal and enchanting. “You seem shocked,” he said. You nodded. “You don’t look like I imagined,” you replied. “You know? The leathery skin and red eyes.” The man laughed heartily. “Is that what they tell you in the human kingdom?” he asked through his amusement. “That’s funny. I look like a typical Fae. No red eyes here. I’m Jungkook by the way.” The man, Jungkook, outstretched his hand. You looked at it for a moment before shaking your head, unwilling to touch your enemy.

“I will not tell you my name, all you must know is that I’m the Second Princess of the human kingdom,” you said in a matter-of-fact way. Jungkook laughed again, much to your irritation. “Continue back the way you came, Princess,” you tensed slightly when he used your title, it slid from his tongue in the most exquisite way. “You will soon be back in the human lands. By the way, I am the Second Prince of the Fae. If you’re curious about what other lies your people have told you about mine, meet me here in two days’ time at sundown. I will answer any questions you have.” You didn’t answer Jungkook, fear of his kind still coursing through your veins. You merely nodded, mounted Bramble and rode back home. You told yourself there was no way you would meet Jungkook again, but you couldn’t deny how your heart pulled you towards the idea.

Despite your brain telling you to stay away from Jungkook, either your heart, or something else, pulled you towards him. Two days after your initial meeting you stood in the spot where you first met. He was yet to arrive, and you were beginning to feel uneasy. It was dark and the sounds of unfamiliar wildlife were putting you on edge. Then you saw a figure approaching, Jungkook. He was illuminated by a swarm of floating lights; it was a mesmerising sight.

“You came,” he said, his mouth forming a smile. “I did,” you replied, pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders. As Jungkook came closer you noticed that his hair was behind his ears, this was the first difference you noticed from yourself, his ears were pointed. “Your ears,” you said. “They’re pointed.” “They are,” Jungkook spoke warmly as he moved closer. “It’s a Fae characteristic.” He came to a stop two steps in front of you, the lights still swirling around him. “How are you doing that?” you motioned around him. “The lights?” “They’re fireflies,” Jungkook replied. “Fae are a lot more in touch with nature than humans are, that’s how we get our magic.” He moved his hands in circular motions and the fireflies spread out around you both, illuminating the area you inhabited. “Please sit,” he said, lowering himself down on the grass. You nervously followed his lead, still questioning why you were here with your ancestral enemy.

“Will you tell me your name, Princess?” the prince asked, the use of your title giving you shivers once again. You stayed silent for a moment. “Y/N,” you replied, shuffling your feet in the grass. “Y/N,” Jungkook repeated. “I like it.” You didn’t really know how to respond, so you settled for nodding, another silence falling on the two of you. “I’m guessing you came because you have questions,” he said. “So, ask me something.” Plucking up your courage you decided on a question that had been troubling you since you had left two days previously. “Why didn’t you tell your king that I trespassed on Fae lands?” you asked cautiously. “It breaks the peace treaty and we’re enemies.” “Are we?” Jungkook asked immediately. “Unless I’m wrong, I only met you two days ago Y/N. How can we be enemies?” You shook your head in frustration. “You know what I mean, we’re ancestral enemies,” you bit back quickly. “You could’ve told the king and declared war on all humans by now, but you didn’t.” Jungkook smiled. “I didn’t tell my father because you obviously came here by mistake, and I’ve never met a human before,” he said. “You say we have leathery skin, but we say that you have no light within, that you’re a barren and cold people.” Your eyes widened. Of course, you knew that the Fae must have stories about humans, but you didn’t expect them to be so philosophical.

“Am I then?” you said nervously. “Am I barren and cold with no light within?” The prince looked you up and down in a way that gave you goosebumps. “No,” he finally replied. “If anything, you’re radiant and lush. Life courses through your veins.” A feeling you hadn’t experienced since your dalliances with Hoseok took hold of you. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you couldn’t look Jungkook in the face. “Please don’t feel uncomfortable in my presence,” he reassured you. “I want to learn more about you, and I sense you wish to learn more about me. I promise not to tell my father if you promise not to tell yours.” He held his hand out to you. “I promise,” you responded, taking his hand in yours. It was warm and soft, it was comforting. Even after letting go you could still feel a tingle where he had touched you. You were in trouble now.

Every week at sundown you and Jungkook would meet in the same place in the forest. On the fifth visit he had been giving you a more in-depth explanation of how Fae magic worked. “We draw our magic from nature,” he said softly, gesturing to the trees all around you. “We can use it to fight, but we can also use it to heal and even create.” He cupped his hands together for a moment, before opening them to reveal a beautiful purple flower. Your eyes lit up in amazement as you marvelled at the bloom he had made from thin air. “For you, Princess,” he said, holding out the flower for you. You took it from him and inhaled the fresh scent exuding from it. “Thank you,” you replied, looking Jungkook directly in the eyes. Not for the first time you contemplated how beautiful they were, like swirling galaxies pulling you closer to him.

You both stayed still for a moment, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. You felt an overwhelming feeling of safety whenever you were with him, he was of great comfort to you, and now looking into his eyes you felt like you could float away into the clouds. Suddenly Jungkook moved his hand to cup your jaw, brushing his thumb along your face softly. “May I?” he asked. Your stomach erupted into butterflies, surely, he couldn’t be asking to kiss you? “Princess, may I kiss you?” he clarified after taking in your confused state. You nodded, dumbstruck, as he moved closer to your lips.

Jungkook’s lips were soft and warm as they caressed your own, his hand moving to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You melted into the kiss, amazed that this beautiful creature was actually in your arms. All too quickly Jungkook pulled away, taking in your flushed face and puffy lips. Before you had a chance to complain he pushed his lips against yours, more harshly this time. Gaining more confidence, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck. Jungkook brushed his tongue against your lips and you opened them to allow him in. The feeling of your tongues intimately brushing together gave you a light feeling inside and simultaneously made you feel hot, this never happened with Hoseok.

After an unknown amount of time, it could’ve been minutes or hours, you both pulled away. “I…” you began, at a loss for words. “Thank you.” “My pleasure,” Jungkook replied, stirring feelings within your core. “Your lips are divine, as is the rest of you.” You felt a blush rise on your cheeks as you looked at the ground. “Please don’t look away, Princess,” he said as he grasped your hands. “I like you and I wish to show it. If you would rather stop these meetings then we can, but I would rather we carried on.” You looked back up to his face, he was smiling softly, and his galaxy eyes were glimmering. “I want to carry on too,” you said, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

Each week the meetings and kisses continued, and you felt yourself falling more and more for Jungkook. Your previous ill feelings towards the Fae had vanished and you wanted nothing more than to be in the arms of your Fae lover at all times. On the twelfth visit you once again found your lips locked against his as you laid beneath him in the grass. This time it was different though, his hands were caressing your body more intensely than usual and you were beginning to feel hot.

Jungkook pulled away, foreheads resting against each other. “Y/N,” he began. “Have you ever been touched by a man?” You felt the colour drain from your face, he could probably sense you sullied nature and no longer wanted anything to do with you. “I have,” you replied cautiously. “Just one. I’m sorry.” Jungkook frowned. “Don’t apologise,” he said, softly brushing your jaw with his thumb. “I’m not pure either, but people don’t fuss over it with men like they do with women. It doesn’t matter to me either way.” Relief washed over you as you heard his words, Jungkook didn’t think you were damaged goods, he still wanted you. “May I touch you, Princess?” he whispered in your ear. Shivers of anticipation travelled down your spine as you nodded fervently.

Jungkook’s hand moved to your clothed breast as he began to massage it, a smirk appearing on his face as you let out a soft moan. He quickly untied the fastenings at the back of your dress and pulled it down to your waist. His mouth kissed where his hand had just been, eliciting louder moans from you as his tongue flicked at your nipple. As he kissed your breasts his hand moved further south, finding its way underneath your dress and on bare sex. “You’re so wet,” he murmured approvingly. “Is this okay?” he asked as he began to rub the bundle of nerves that brought you immense pleasure. You nodded quickly, moaning as he quickened his pace.

The prince stopped his movements and you let out a whine of disappointment. “Let’s get this dress off you properly,” he said, pulling the material from your body. Jungkook was still fully clothed and you suddenly felt very exposed. You reached out and he allowed you to remove his shirt, but you weren’t prepared for what was underneath. You let out a gasp at how incredibly toned and muscular he was, your hands running across his abs. “Like what you see, Princess?” he smirked. “Yes,” you purred as he laid you back down on the soft grass, positioning himself between your legs. Suddenly his mouth was on your most intimate area, his tongue lapping at your clitoris. You moaned wantonly, gripping at the hair on his head. You had never felt such pleasure in your life, and your moans became louder and more frequent as you felt the familiar coil in your core begin to tighten. Jungkook slowly pushed a finger inside you, it felt incredible. “Don’t stop Jungkook,” you cried. “More… Please…” You looked up and saw him smirk as he pleasured you. He added another finger and curled them, hitting the spot inside of you. The coil tightened and tightened until it released, and pleasure flowed through your veins and you screamed out your lover’s name.

Jungkook wiped your wetness from his mouth and began to kiss you. Being able to taste yourself on his tongue was incredibly erotic, and you found your hand travelling down to the hardness at his crotch. He suddenly grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Tonight is about you,” he said. “Let me pleasure you.” He pushed you back onto the grass and removed his trousers and undergarments, releasing his impressive length. You panicked slightly at the sight of it, he was bigger than Hoseok. “You’re so big,” you whispered. Jungkook smiled widely at the compliment. “Yes, but I know you can take me,” he replied reassuringly. “Do you definitely want this?” You nodded and he grasped your thighs, moving them apart. He lined himself up at your entrance and held your hands as he pushed inside. It stung a little as you weren’t used to his size, but after a moment you began to feel comfortable. “Please move Jungkook,” you whimpered.

He began to move within you, leisurely thrusting in and out. His manhood brushed against the sweet spot inside you and you clenched around him, letting out a moan.

“You feel so good,” he said breathlessly. “You’re taking me so well.” His compliments brought even more pleasure to you and he softly held your hands as he brought you closer and closer to orgasm. Sex with Hoseok hadn’t been like this at all, he had been more concerned with taking you roughly from behind and leaving red handprints on your derriere. Something about treating the Second Princess like a common whore had thrilled him, and you were more than happy to indulge him. However, sex with Jungkook was pure lovemaking. It was gentle and soft, you truly felt safe and on top of the world.

You felt yourself getting closer towards release, and Jungkook sensed this from your vice-like grip on his cock. He moved his hand to your clitoris and began to rub fast circles upon it. You gasped and moaned at his touch, taking in his sweaty and downright hot appearance. His mullet was beginning to cling to his forehead and his abs were rippling as he thrusted into you. “Jungkook,” you whined wantonly. “I’m so close.” The pressure in your core was becoming unbearable and you felt yourself hurtling towards release. “Let go for me Y/N,” he leant down and whispered into your ear, keeping up his pace. Your orgasm immediately washed over you, your womanhood pulsing around him as you let out a moan. His hips stuttered slightly, and he managed a few more thrusts before releasing his seed inside you.

Both of you looked at each other, beaming from ear to ear. Jungkook planted a sensual kiss on your lips before pulling away, pressing his forehead to your own. “That was incredible,” he exclaimed, brushing your hair from your face. “It was,” you gasped, still catching your breath. “Jungkook…” “Yes,” he answered. “What’s wrong, Princess?” You were silent for a moment. “I think I love you,” you said nervously, looking away from him. His fingers pinched your chin and turned you back to face him. “That’s good,” he smiled. “Because I think I love you too.”

Six more visits had transpired since the first time you made love, and each time you found your limbs entangled with his, gasping with pleasure. You were becoming more and more fearful of the concept of marrying a stranger chosen by your parents, you only wanted Jungkook. Your parents had not sensed your distress or your weekly disappearances, too wrapped up in planning your sister’s lavish wedding. However, it turned out that you had also become distracted from something of note.

One of your maids entered your chambers. “Your highness,” she said, a bundle of cloth in her arms. “I’ve brought your rags for your monthly bleed. You hadn’t asked me for them, and it slipped my mind. If I’m right, your bleed should’ve started two weeks since? Is everything okay? Should I call a man of medicine?” You could feel the colour draining from your face and nausea filling your stomach. “It’s okay,” you lied. “I got them myself two weeks ago, I was in that part of the castle.” “Oh…” your maid frowned. “Forgive me, your highness, I am glad all is well. I’ll leave these rags in one of your draws for next time.” “Thank you,” you said, relieved she has believed your terrible untruth. Your maid was right, your monthly bleed had been due two weeks ago, but it hadn’t come. The truth sank heavy on your shoulders, Jungkook’s seed had taken root and you were pregnant. You were pregnant with Jungkook’s baby. You were pregnant with your ancestral enemy’s child.

END

feedback is always appreciated! please don’t repost or translate my work

[adcfan]

WARNED

He could clearly tell from the slightest wrinkle of irritation adoring the top left of her pale forehead that she is beyond annoyed. How could he blame her? After all it was him who lured the bird out of its comfortable nest in the middle of a tough night. From the height he could perceive the darker shades of her shadows dancing along the way she traced making him more curious to explore the limit of the demon’s braveness.

The edges of his lips pulled up to carve an honest smile as his eyes momentarily rested on the dagger resting against her waist that he once offered her in the middle of a battle, a year ago.

With a loud thud he made his presence noticeable startling her to the core in the process. His armor blazed a bright shade of jade green, bathed in the late moonlight that managed to get the taste of his attire. His eyes searched hers involuntarily, seeking to find any glimpse of game she or the titans might have planned to play on him. But all he could find was curiosity.

Curious? Is she really curious?    

“So, you decided to show up in the middle of a young, wanting night, far from your protective shell behalf of a demons’ call”. If it wasn’t for the mask he is wearing, she could see the imperceptible grim plastered over his face with ease. “And here I thought ravens aren’t creatures of the night”, his brows made a childish hunch testing her temper further more than she could actually take.

“What do you want?”, her voice remained cold as she tried her best to control all the urge to take him down on the very spot. His cape danced in unity with her robe as he approached her a little more without her noticing for a very long second. “Aren’t you forgetting a very special day, beloved?”. And that was definitely a hint of sadness that was sprinkled all over the Al Ghul’s tone.

Right, as if he could actually feel sad over anything with all the blood in his hands.

“I am not in for a game, Al Ghul. I have got a whole city to save and a good night’s sleep to resume, but here I am, in the middle of an abandoned area with a ruthless assassin who threatened to explode the best half of the city and what’s next? Seizure?”. Almost a devilish chuckle escaped his lips as if he had conquered the entire world.

“Oh for gods shake, little bird. Do you really think I will abandon the best of all nights in Nanda Parbat to blast a worthless city like Kansas?”, now he is definitely getting on her nerves. “But I must say, I had half a mind to blow the Titans bridge five minutes ago”, his all time devilish smile still painted his arrogant look. Raven barely recognized how Damian managed to corner her against the cold wall whose uneven surface pressed itself against her flawless skin dripping it with the night’s best dew.

“I am not asking you again, Ra’s. Tell me what you want with me before I banish you into a dimension of never return”.

“You hurt me, beloved. Don’t you remember the anniversary of our marriage?”

Married? With him? A year ago?

“If this is some sort of silly joke, you better stop it right now, Ra’s. It’s definitely not funny.”, her voice trembled with doubts by each passing second. She lingered over her left ring finger as if she has seen her own hands for the first time in all her life. No ring? Well that’s a relief.

He is just kidding or may be…

Or may be not

“Do I look like one who makes senseless jokes like the green monkey your tower owns”. 

Thanks to Gar, at least his pride is hurt a little.

“I didn’t say that, but if you insist on it… I may”, and she sure as hell liked hurting his weak point - his pride.

“Then how about I insisting on maintaining a decent distance between Conner and you, beloved”, for the first time in almost half an hour his words had the true taste of jealous.

“You are my wife and it is my business to keep flirty hybrids like him away from you. Well, if you don’t have to do it the easy way then I will have the pleasure of teaching him decency in my own way, beloved”. Is the night getting unnaturally warmer or…

Oh no! When did he get this closer to her.

And how the hell she didn’t notice it for this long.

If not for the pitch dark night sky, she could actually feel herself blacking out.

“If it is Conner the one you have your problems with then why the hell did you make me come here?” To reveal that she may be married to the Ra’s of League of Assassin’s a year ago? Probably, yes.

“I thought you would never ask. Let’s say I am here to get a gift”

Right, she barely knew that she got married and now he wants a gift in the middle of a night?

“I don’t have a ring”, the words spilled out even before she could realize it.

May be she lost her brain just like Beast Boy.

“I don’t think it is mandatory for a married couple have to propose during anniversaries, beloved”, his breath flowed through her entire being warming up all her dark desires that might love to make him hers and only hers even if…

Stop. Stop right there Raven.    

“I mean, I don’t even have a ring and how could I be your wife when I don’t even have a ring”

Way to go Raven, what’s next a Priest?

“The dagger, Raven. It means a sealed bond in my heritage. A bond made between a husband and a wife, which you willing took to save the pathetic Titans a year ago in the League of Shadows base.” His voice grew more husky and his breathe drove her senses away as he nibbled at her ear lobe. She was supposed to be mad, she was supposed to blast him to pieces and scatter every inch of his being at different dimensions for revealing something as important as being married, but his tone - well, that’s definitely not helping.

“What now? You want me to quit being a Titan, take sides with you and go against them?”

“Baby steps, beloved. Baby steps”. His left hand toyed with the hem of her dress, further breaking the already half broken control towards her urging needs that pooled in very being.  

“Just a kiss and a promise to keep that coward Conner away from you will do”.  She could feel the cold air of the young night kissing her wide spread pale skin that already missed the warmth touch of the assassin.

“And if I resist?”

“You really think you could resist me, beloved? Since it is our anniversary I will be generous enough to make another request”. His eyes grew darker with every words as his katana slightly battered against the cold wall.

“How about blasting the Titans tower to the ground while that stupid Gar and Jaime are trying with their half-celled brains to defuse the bomb or how about giving black fire all the 18 ways to kill Kori like a true assassin in the middle of their fight right now in Kansas or how about giving Slade Wilson the true identity of Dick Grayson and his fellow bat clan or how about letting Conner suffer in the hands of Bizarre Superman, left alone to die by a Kryptonite stabbing.” He hummed the last few parts as he withdraw from the spot he previously stood.  

“On second thought how about all of the above?”

“You are kidding. I would have received an alert signal at least if one of these is happening right now”.

“You mean this?” Damian raised a small communicator from his pocket still humming like an undisturbed teenager enjoying his long drive to no destiny at all.

“Give it back”. She raised her hand trying to snatch the communicator but in vain.

“Did I forget to mention that you have to be a grown woman to snatch a stuff, beloved”. His eye brow arched itself up.

That’s it. She could bear all of his sarcasms, all of his threats and even all of his flirts but not even for the shake of Azar would she let this damn Demon Spawn comment on her height and hurt her pride in nothing more than mere seconds. That’s not going to happen. Not today.

Raven rose to her tip-toes grabbing Damian’s collar to support her in the process but accidentally twirled their legs and slipped right on top of him. Their lips were locked like the mere existence of one depends on the other, when Raven realized the state she has put herself into.

Yeah, that’s how you snatch a communicator from a tall guy, who threatens to blast your whole family.

She would be cheating herself the entire time if she hesitated to accept that she did like the Demon’s head for a reasonably long time now. But she is definitely not going to let her pride get hurt.

“So, you got your gift. Now defuse the bomb and un-mess every mess you made”

“And all it took was calling you - short”. Damian let an almost an inaudible chuckle escape his throat.

He pulled out the dagger from Raven’s waist band and seethed it properly. “Don’t hurt yourself playing with this doll, beloved”.

“My team…”, Raven question was cut short by Damian as he spoke.

“They are safe. For now”

BOOM…

From the frequency of the sound wave she could say that it was near the Titans Tower.

“Well, except for one I guess”

With one last peck on her lips he disappeared into the shadows as if he never existed a few minutes ago.

--

Thank Azar!

There was not a single scratch on the tower. Not even one. At least he kept few of his words.

But the real horror stroke her when she felt no living presence inside the tower.

“Umm.. Rae what are you doing up late in the night?”, Dick asked as he and the other Titans entered the tower with handful of shopping bags. “You are all fine?”. She will never spell it out loud but deep down she knew that she couldn’t stand their loss. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Yeah, we are fine. It’s a little cold out there. But don’t worry we won’t catch a cold, Rae. If that’s what you are worried about”, Gar uttered with no care in the world as he glanced through the contents of the fridge.

“Where have you been?” was all she managed to ask when she realized that she wasn’t dreaming.

“We were out…”, Kori barely had a chance to finish when Raven added “Crime fighting?”

“Ah… shopping, Raven. I don’t think it is a custom on Earth to crime fight every time you step out into the public, is it Dick?”.

“Unless or otherwise you are in Gotham, no”, Dick replied as he loaded the fridge with the contents of the grocery bags.

“So, where is Conner?”, inquired Jaime as he entered the main hall. “Isn’t he in the tower?”, Kori added.

“There wasn’t anyone in the tower when I arrived”, Raven replied as a loud thud followed their conversation.

“Conner!”, Gar yelled as he reached him. The rest of the Titans followed by.

--

“What the hell happened dude?”, asked Gar as he tried to touch the bruise near his right eye.

“OUCH!”

“That’s just a small bruise, Conner. I have seen worse”, Dick replied while analyzing his wounds.

“And a broken wrist”, Conner added trying to rise his wounded hand but in vain.

“It’s just a minor injury, amigo. You will be alright as soon as the Sun’s back”, Jaime reassured him while attending to his wounds.

“Here, let me heal you”, Raven offered taking a step towards but the wound deepened as if it was being cut from inside out. Conner could barely resist the urge to break the table he sat on.

“Raven, is that a Kryptonite you are wearing?”, Dick pointed at the green stone that somehow perfectly settled around her neck.

“If that’s causing our flirty Superboy to yell like a mad man then it is definitely a Kent-repellent”, Jaime added.

“A kryptonite? Not again”, Conner banged his head against the wall as if that would make his day any better.

If you don’t have to do it the easy way then I will have the pleasure of teaching him decency in my own way.

“Raven, I know you mean no harm but I don’t think Conner could take any more kryptonite today. So, would you mind…”, Gar tried to get rid of the kryptonite that adorned her neck.

“Here let me try”, Kori flared a small star bolt which seemed to have no effect on it either.

“It seems you have to stay away from Conner for a few days until we find a way to remove that thing off your neck. By the way, it seems to have no effect on you Raven. You may leave, we will take care of Conner”

Seems like he played a particular demon played his part well at keeping Raven away from Conner.

Raven made a short nod and walked towards her room. In the background, she could clearly hear the boys filling Conner with questions about the attack.

“So, was it Bizarre the reason behind this?”, Dick asked as he finished cleaning the wounds.

“No, it was a masked man with a Katana”, Conner replied.

“And you - a bullet proof being got this from a Katana?”, Gar’s curiosity reached its peak when Conner made Kryptonian curses under his breathe.

“Stop touching my wound, Gar”

“You call yourself a super but you can’t stand a broken wrist” Gar arched both of his eye brows wanting for a genuine explanation.

“I have not even once been injected, Pea-brain” was all Raven could hear, when she disappeared into her own shadows. 

                                                                 - Samuel Damian Fernandez

Hi, everyone! This is just a one shot, not a great one but worth giving a try. Like I have mentioned before English is my 8th priority language. So, if you find faults in my work just let me know. Also, share your thoughts on this one shot, so I may get an idea for future modifications. 

Punardarśaāya 😉 👋

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

[newtonsheffield]

Any chance of getting some spicy royals content on this fine Sunday? After they’re married/during their engagement, I have a vision of them doing their events and then going back to palace and just like tearing each other’s clothes off and doing it on any and all available surfaces.

My friend, you understand the Royals vibe.

Their whole romance started because essentially they couldn't keep their hands off one another. That's not going to change when they're together, in fact, it makes it all a little worse. The young queen and her future husband are well known for probably being too in love.

Kate wasn't stupid, she knew what the entire country was saying about her when rumours of her relationship with Anthony started leaking from the palace as these things often did. And she supposed she was a good part to blame. People couldn't help but notice the Security that lined the corridor outside Anthony's flat, and really that meant there had to be someone of note inside, and there was, of course, the very public way Anthony had gone about things. It didn't take long for the rumours to start.

She called off the wedding for him

It was all arranged for publicity

The Queen Regent demanded she marry him if not Stirling

He's a traitor and so must she be.

It was vaguely amusing honestly, the idea that Mary of all people would be encouraging Kate to do anything to Anthony that wasn't punching him in the stomach. The palace PR team had practically begged her not to acknowledge Anthony publicly

"All due respect Your Highness, This will be a disaster." Jenkins had said, the bridge of his nose pinched in his fingers, barely 2 days into her relationship with Anthony,

Kate had bristled, "What are you suggesting, Mr Jenkins?"

"I'm suggesting, that publicly, Our new Queen has no consort, whatever you do in private is of course your own business."

Kate had frowned, "And what about when we get married." A small hiss escaped several people in the room and Kate had pretended not to see the way Mary stiffened beside her, plowing ahead. "Surely eventually I'll have to marry someone, what do you suggest then?"

And no one had really seemed to have an answer for her, which of course meant the answer was clear.

Hopefully you'll come to your senses before then!

But it hadn't been necessary in the end. Sophie had sent them to a primary school, and aided by a rather adorable Hyacinth Bridgerton, Kate and Anthony (Kathony as they'd been dubbed) had emerged as they country's new it couple. Requests poured in for comment, the were star crossed lovers people that certainly weren't supposed t fall in love but couldn't resist the pull. And allegedly, everyone could see it. Just from the way they looked at one another.

It seemed every day in those first few months blurry pictures emerged of them, Anthony's head resting on her shoulder on a street corner, Kate's legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her through the garden on his back, Anthony crowding her against a tree their lips nearly touching. It was relentless, and rather than sullying the image of the royal family, it seemed to make public opinion soar. Yes, their new queen was young, beautiful, and very much besotted with her grouchy boyfriend. It really was quite the narrative, and not very far from the truth. Before long reports of them slipping away at public events seemed to emerge, and this the palace could not abide.

"Kate, please, please do not sneak out of this event." Sophie was practically begging, looking sternly between her and Anthony. "I mean it, "I get it, you just got engaged, and it's adorable that you're so happy but Can we stay to the end of one event this month?"

"Ahh Sophie, when you look this good, lady's are bound to drag you behind a topiary animal for a quickie." Anthony had said, with that insufferable smirk on his face."

Kate had scoffed. "Won't be a problem, Sophie, Anthony won't be getting any for a while."

As it turns out, it was a problem. Before they'd even left the palace Kate was warm. Anthony had been sitting in the small living area attached to her suite by the time her styling team had finished flitting around her, and honestly, the sight of him made her mouth go dry.

He was wearing a light grey suit, the waistcoat of which had a light checked pattern through it, cut tightly across his broad shoulders, his red tie and pocket square in stark contrast. She didn't really need to look at them, she'd known before she even walked in what colour they would be, they always matched, Anthony insisted upon it. Insisted on her crest being neatly embroidered into them, and it was a little unflattering but it aways sent a little possessive thrill through her.

She'd cleared her throat and he'd looked up from his phone, smile already in place though it turned just slightly predatory at the sight of her.

"Well, well, your majesty, don't you look lovely this evening?" His fingertips had trailed over her bare back a little delightfully.

Kate had scoffed, her cheeks burning, "we promised hands to ourselves tonight."

Anthony laughed, "There's almost no way you're going to be able to manage that, Darling. I look delectable this evening."

God his arrogance was startling, even if he wasn't far off the mark. "You look average."

He wasn't deterred. "I'll make you a deal, Princess" She'd been the queen for months but he still called her by her original title, his eyes shining at her. "If we stay until 11:30, I'll give you a reward."

A shiver had run down her spine as she'd thought about last night when he'd bent her over the back of the sofa, his hands hot against her. "Won't be a problem. Prepare to get on your knees for me."

"It would be my pleasure."

By the time they'd been there an hour, Kate was struggling, Anthony's hand was hot on her back, his eyes burning into hers as he laughed and smiled, his glasses shining in the dim lighting, and it didn't help that she was sure the air conditioning was broken.

And he wouldn't leave her alone. Usually at these events after a while they were tugged in different directions, mingling with this lord and that, as directed by their teams. But tonight Anthony shrugged off all of his instructions, keeping his arm like a vice around her, the smell of his cologne a little overwhelming, his deep voice rumbling through the both of them, his finger tapping his watch every time her own hand slipped under his jacket or to the edge of his trousers, a stupid smirk on his face. God he was absolutely unbearable, and she wanted him so fucking much, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Her eyes didn't leave his watch from 11:28, counting down the seconds as they slipped by, clearing her throat as soon as 11:30 ticked around.

"Can you have the car brought around Steve?"

Anthony's smirk intensified into something like a wolfish grin as they waved once more to the assembled party before they slipped out the side doors.

"Well, Your majesty, very impressive restraint shown tonight." his voice was like gravel in her ear, both hands on her waist now, one on either side, his teeth already nipping at her neck, it was all she could do not to groan loudly.

As soon as the car door was opened, Kate had tugged Anthony inside, her hand wrapped around his tie, his hips bucking against her at the sharp tug she gave it.

"What are you doing?" Her own voice was rough as Anthony attempted to settle into the seat beside her, his eyebrows raised.

"Sitting down so we can go home and fuck?" There was something so innocent about the way he said it, that made her heart flutter with love for him, his hand fiddling nervously with his glasses.

Kate clucked her tongue, tugging on his tie until his knees were resting on the floor of the limousine in front of her. "But we have such a long drive home, Lord Bridgerton, you better get to work."

Anthony's eyes darkened immediately, his hands tugging roughly at the hem of her dress, calming as he slipped underneath it, his lips trailing up her thighs, hands forcing her legs apart.

"Fucking hell I wanted to crawl under this dress the minute I saw you, wanted to do it right there in that fucking room again."

Kate tried to force her voice into something like nonchalance, failing miserably as she shifted her hips a little desperately "Well it would have certainly given the Lords something to tut about, you know how they like that."

His chuckle was slight muffled through the layers of her dress. "They're just jealous, they don't get to have you."

And then his mouth started moving over her, hard and relentless, and fuck she couldn't breathe. The privacy partition was thankfully already up as it always was on the way home from events, but still, Kate knew the driver, and Steve who always rode in the front of her car could hear her, and there was something oddly thrilling about it. Oddly thrilling about the obscene noises that were pulled from her chest, about the soft sound of Anthony's mouth on her, the soft moans falling from his lips at the taste of her, his voice coaxing against her.

"That's it, Kate, you've been such a good girl for Daddy."

Her eyes rolled back in her head, unable to help herself as her hips bucked against him helplessly, desperately seeking just a little more friction.

"Please, Anthony, Please."

He chuckled again and then he started moving impossibly faster, his fingers joining his tongue, forcing her higher and higher, she could see the reflection of them in the window as the streetlights passed, th obscene image of them branded on the back of her eyelids, And everything shattered. A soft scream tore through her chest, Anthony humming happily in response as her chest heaved, her breathing erratic.

Anthony's head popped out from under her dress, checking his watch a little dramatically.

"Well that took 5 minutes so I think I can probably do that another 3 times before we get home."

He managed another 4, one rolling against the other like an endless wave, her screams getting louder and louder, condensation covering the windows in the back of the car. And Anthony's smug smile as he tugged her boneless from the car, really was absolutely insufferable.

[diaco1968]

Altair x Reader

Warnings! Smut, lemon, unprotected, a bit of choking, bit of humiliation, sounds a little dub/non con in the end

Note: I just realized I've written nothing for my first and longest crush, none other than the arrogant grumpy assassin! Sorry for the slight ooc-ness, I get weird writing about him...

Also amazing art! It's thanks to this, I've been visually crushing over this man for the longest time! *^*

Artist

"Wanna blow off some steam, Assassin?"

He could still feel your hands all over him, the feeling of your touch;

Your fingers running up his abs, tracing his chest, running over his shoulders, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck before they carded through his hair finally coming to a rest in a tight demanding grip on the back of his head.

It was unlike whatever he was used to.

The girls in the garden. They just did what they were assigned to do. Though they were obedient and submissive, they didn't claw at him like they desired him.

It was unusual.

It was exhilarating.

It was wrong.

It had been one of the rare occasions where there was a brief pause in the conflict between the assassins and the templars. A moment of peace that kept you all from jumping at each other's throats while their mentors and your commanders talked out their differences for a mutually beneficial truce. And of course they both had the option of having their choice of bodyguards accompanying them.

That was how he first met you. In person and eye to eye. With a distance of less than a rooftop, even less than a swords lenght, apart.

He couldn't get it off his mind now.

You had heard of him, seen the havoc he had caused in your ranks without even being seen. And he had seen you before as you barked orders at your little pawns and cut through his less experienced brethren with no mercy.

Always from afar.

Maybe that was the reason you colided hard the moment those roles were gone and out of the way. Attracted by the differences like day and night.

So when you cornered him alone with that very suggestion you were met with little to no resistance as you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips onto his. You demanded and you took as you pleased, making him bend to your will and despite his arrogant self, he liked that. He liked being wanted. The way you had him on his back in moments, straddling him so full of confidence. You were quite a skilled rider too.

Had him wondering if he had finally met his match?

Now as he stalked in the shadows waiting for you to make a wrong move, he wanted to take back. He wanted you. He had spent weeks being distracted time and again by the memories of your little encounter, now that he was so close to you again he couldn't help but drown deeper and deeper in his inner conflict. Thess were slightly different times, what if you rejected him? It would be so embarrassing... and he couldn't just kill you off if you did, that would harm the truce...

He shook his head as he caught himself thinking nonsense again.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent...

You were a templar though... did you count?-

He didn't have time to measure your innocence as your pawns left to do something you ordered them to and finally you were all alone. All his. Easy prey.

A hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it behind you as he pulled you into the alleyway and slammed you front first into the wall.

"You've become too dull."

"Have I really?"

That was when he noticed you didn't use your other hand to brace yourself on the wall. The little sharp pain in his side from the blade threateningly pressing into him was proof enough.

"You'd still die anyway. So, yes, you have."

He let go of your arm and you turned around to face him in the very little space provided by his arms caging you to the wall, teasingly grinding your ass back onto him. He of course suppressed the little hiss in response, not wanting to give you the satisfaction.

"You think I dismissed my men because I'm dull and not because I saw a certain assassin lurking around in the shadows?"

He narrowed his glinting golden eyes at you.

"You are bluffing."

You chuckled as you wiped at your scraped cheek to ease the stinging.

"What ever helps your ego."

You could see his scowl even from under the hood casting shadows over his face that complimented his features, as he loomed over you, completely silent. His sunkissed skin, sharp bones, haunting eyes, defined scar over his lips.

"You are in templar territory, what do you want, bird?"

His grimace at the nickname had you smirking triumphantly. Why did you have to know their language... it was annoying.

"Don't call me that!"

"But that's your name."

You looked smug and he didn't like that but you didn't have all day for the yarn of his ego to untangle on it's own. You reached up, slipping your hand inside the hood and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to you so you could whisper in his ear.

"Or do you prefer, Eagle? Am I your poor little prey this time?"

He could feel the goosebumps rise over his arms as he growled in annoyance, your voice rolled over his skin smoothly.

"If you were, you wouldn't live long enough to mock me."

"Flattering."

Your smirk widened, nipping the side of his jaw and pushing him off a whole step before he could react.

"Come, boy."

"... tch..."

Clicking his tongue he wondered if this was all worth it any way as he watched your form striding down the alley, taking his time before he decided to follow you.

To an abandoned building, top floors almost burnt away, leading to a giant hole in the roof opening up to the skies. At the entrance you grabbed his hand cause he was hesitating to step in.

He would have preferred more hospitality... like your own quarters maybe...

He didn't have time to ponder as you pushed him back on one of the few surviving furniture, before straddling his lap.

... a long wooden bench... in a burnt building with cold stone wallls...

"We're in a church!-"

You were already half way through his robes, heavily dropping the weapon belt on the ground as you looked up at his anxious expression, scoffing.

"And? Are you a religious man, Assassin?"

He glared at you but you had a point. He just didn't expect such disrespect from you. Were you not fighting as part of Richard's army?...

"You're shameless."

"Shame is a weakness. You didn't seek me out beacuse I am a weakling now, did you?"

You plopped down on his now not dangerously armed crotch and his hands shot up to grab your hips and steady you.

"Who said I seeked you out? I was just in the area for a job."

"Ouch... you mean you killed off one of my men and came to add insult to the injury?"

He paused as you paused staring down at him. Well maybe he didn't choose his words right. He wasn't good at lying on the spot.

"That's hot."

At this point he had no idea if you meant the things you said or if you were being sarcastic. But he didnt care as you started grinding down over him.

Like last time.

Oh hell no.

He flipped you, so now you were lying on your back looking up at him surprised.

"Not this time. You are mine now."

"Oh? Fine then, show me what you've got."

You almost immediately regretted that as the pit in your stomach deepened not only from excitement but from fear as his fingers wrapped around your throat tightly, nudging your legs apart to settle between them. As you let him discard your clothes, it was probably the first time it downed on you. The danger you were in. He could actually kill you. And no one would know. Kill you and leave you there disgraced and dishonored with no one to know where to look for you.

You wheezed loudly, clutching the wrist of the hand he had wrapped around your neck, your train of thoughts derailed as he unceremoniously thrusted himself into you.

His fingers left your neck, to fist in your hair instead, arching your neck so he had more room as his lips met the delicate skin, his stubble scratching you pleasantly. You grabbed the back of his neck, pressing his face deeper into the crook of your neck and he didn't mind endulging you, sucking and nipping on the skin, combined with shallow slow thrusts had you arching and twisting under him, trying desperately to get more friction out of him. He gripped your hips tightly, pinning you down and restraining your movements.

"I said you'll be good and do as I tell you to."

"That is not what you said."

"Don't test me, (y/n)."

He growled in your ear, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest and you were not about to argue with that as you hummed in response and decided to oblige.

He briefly pulled out of you, only to pull you up and dropping you on your knees on the stoney ground. With a hand on the back of your neck he had you face down, arse up and he plunged himself back into you groaning at the way you twitched around him eagerly with a loud wanton moan.

His other hand grabbed your hip to keep you from jerking forward while he drilled into you, completely different from his earlier pace.

"This is what you want after all. To be fucked like a little bitch with an important audience."

Between your moans and scratching at the ground in pleasure mixed with pain you didnt have time to wonder who, until he grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back against him so you were facing  the old crushed cross behind the altar.

"...you fucking basta-geh!"

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, deep enough to make you choke and gag around them.

"I'd watch my mouth, if I were you."

He resumed kissing your abused neck, fingers thrusting in your mouth, creating lewd wet noises and heavy moans.

You were close, he could tell. You were constricting around him so tight he almost released a few times if not for the way you bit his fingers angrily. But he wanted you to finish first. Wanted you to whimper and beg as you just couldn't anymore.

He sunk his teeth in your shoulder and that was it for you. A high pitched mewl and you were clamping down on him violently as your release shook you to your core, slumping over him as he slowed down ever so slightly.

Then he let you drop on your front and resumed his brutal pace, seeking his own release now, disregarding your half hearted protesting sobs.

It didn't take him long and he finished over your ass, panting heavily as he watched your shaky body, get used to the abuse way too quickly as you rolled over underneath him to shoot him a glare.

Awkward silence engulfed you both as he got on his feet and even helped you up with a hand and you both started fixing up your clothes and putting your weapons back in place.

This was not how it ended last time. The silenece made him wonder if he did something very wrong. If your little forbidden rendezvous had come to an end because of him. If it had, it was probably for the best but... he felt a pang of sadness thinking about it. Oh how he wished for you to open your smug mouth and say something. Anything.

"I think we can both agree, I am better off in charge."

"You wish, Templar."

"...well... yes, I do. That's the whole reason behind our ancient conflict, Assassin."

[missymurphy1985]

School Days

Warning - masturbation / handjob

A/N - Cillian is 17 in this story, and still a virgin. He's been in a relationship with you for 6 months, he wants you but you're not quite ready to go all the way. Yet.

Might do a part 2 if you want one!

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen

Your alarm sounded at 7:15am, and you crawled out of bed to get ready. Groaning at the sudden realisation you had double maths first thing this morning, but smiling when you remembered you shared that lesson with Cillian Murphy, your boyfriend of six months. The most popular kid in school, which made you hesitant to get involved at first, but you soon realised he was nothing like the cocky, arrogant lads he hung out with - he was sweet, kind, affectionate, always held your hand in the corridor, opened doors for you.. you were definitely falling for him.

You also knew he was still a virgin, just like you. He'd only moved to your school a year ago from a Catholic all boys school, and his contact with other girls had been rather limited. He'd had girls lining themselves up once he'd arrived, but he only had eyes for you since that first Maths class when he'd been sat next to you. It had taken him 6 months to convince you to let him take you on a date, but you hadn't looked back since. You just didn't feel ready to take that next step and sleep with him yet.

Sitting in your maths class, next to Cillian, you couldn't help but notice he wasn't himself. Fidgety, unable to focus or concentrate on the lesson. Maths wasn't a strong point for him, but that never usually flustered him.

"Cillian, what's wrong?" You whispered while your teacher was out of sight.

"I'm fine, why?"

"Are you sick?" He shook his head, smiling at you and clearing his throat, before glancing down under the table at his legs and rearranging his school trousers under his bag, which oddly had been sat on his lap the whole lesson. You furrowed your brow and moved your hand to squeeze his knee but he quickly grabbed it and held it in his hand instead.

The bell rang for break, but rather than jump up like he normally did, he remained seated, looking at his textbook like it held the meaning of life inside it.

"Cill, you coming?" You asked, stood next to the desk. He chuckled lightly and stood, albeit very carefully. His bag didn't move from over his thighs as he rearranged his trousers again. Keeping his bag over his crotch with one hand, he held hours with the other as you left the classroom, walking down the corridor to the Rec area outside for your 15 minute break.

"Are they too tight Cill? Your mam tumble dried them again?" You asked, smirking a little despite his obvious discomfort.

"Something like that... Listen I'll meet you outside yeah, need to take care of something..."

"What do you need to take care of? Need some help?" His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you stopped him, blocking him in against the lockers.

"What the hell is wrong with you today? I'm not moving until you tell me! You're all jumpy and weird!"

"I'm fine!! Just let me go yeah, need to use the bathroom.. quickly." He tried to move past you but you stood in front of him again and grabbed the bag in his hand. You'd been suspicious of it all morning. He fought with you, looking around at the, thankfully, empty hallway, before you pulled it away and gasped. You looked at his crotch and the definite outline of his erection was pressed against it. He'd managed to adjust himself enough so it was upright against his pubic bone, the tip under his belt, but it was still painfully obvious through his trousers.

"Woah..."

"Babe I'm sorry... I jacked off twice this morning, it won't fucking go down..." You chuckled a little, but you couldn't ignore the clench of your insides at the thought of him getting himself off. You bit your lip, glanced around to check there was still no one in sight, and pulled him into the girls toilets behind you, into a cubicle and closing the door.

"What are you doing??" He asked, seeing you lock the cubicle.

"Clearly your hand isn't enough, so how about we give mine a go?"

"What?? In here?"

"You were gonna do it in the boys toilet, what's the difference?" He went to speak but had no argument for that.

"You don't have to do this y/n.."

"Let me? Please? Just show me how? I wanna see it.." you could see his mind turning, before checking his watch. Still 10 minutes of break left, easy.

"Fuck... Okay..." He pulled his trousers and boxer shorts down and gasped as the fresh air hit him. You gasped with him at the size of it.. it looked big through his trousers but bare and in front of you.. he took your hand gently.

"Are you sure?" He asked, taking your cheek in his other hand and pulling you closer. You nodded, and eyes locked, he placed your hand over his cock at the base, his hand on top of yours as he guided it up and down, squeezing occasionally at the base and tip.

"Carry on, on your own now?" He asked, taking his hand away and leaning back against the cubicle wall, pulling your body as close as he could. You both watched your hand move over him, mesmerised. You copied where he squeezed at the base, earning a hiss from him when you did.

"Am I doing it right?" You questioned, looking up at him as he'd fallen silent. His eyes were glassy, mouth slightly open, as he nodded.

"Faster..." He managed, his voice husky now. You happily obliged, your thumb gently grazing over the oozing slit at the tip, his knees buckling underneath him when you did and an audible groan leaving his lips. Your confidence growing now, you pumped him faster, and ground your hips against him, edging him on as his arm pulled you tighter to him. His voice barely a whisper...

"Fuck... Shit... I'm gonna come... Y/n... Fuck, fuck, Fu - oh god..." His cock twitched in your hand as he thrusted his hips into it, bringing his left hand up that held a handful of tissues in it to catch the thick, white spurts that erupted from him. Your hand slowed on him, squeezing up his shaft to empty him completely. You both smiled watching his cock soften in your hand, and he flushed the tissue down the toilet, taking fresh ones to clean your hand and his groin where it had splashed on them.

Pulling his trousers back up, he leaned against the wall and pulled your face to his, kissing you deeply.

"That was exactly what I needed baby... Thank you..."

"I really enjoyed doing that to you."

"That's good, because I'm definitely up for you doing it again."

"Maybe at lunchtime?" You winked.

"See now, lunchtime I'm going to be busy I'm afraid..." You pouted, disappointed.

"Doing what exactly?" He kissed you lightly and whispered in your ear, sending your core into heat again...

"Returning the favour..."

[ttuesday]

Time

Summary: After spending the night on guard duty, you make a bet with Micah to find out who can stay awake the longest.

Word Count: 2,772 

~unfortunately there’s no smut in this, it’s mainly fluff and maybe a bit of angst ? idk lmao~

8am You spent the entire night on guard duty. Bill was supposed to take over a couple of hours ago but he never did. It didn’t take long for you to realize he was after sleeping in, preferring to stay wrapped up in his warm bedroll instead of coming out to relieve you from duty. 

Finally about two goddamn hours after sunrise, John came out and offered to go on guard, mentioning to you that Bill had woken up about twenty minutes ago but decided that avoiding you was better than owning up to his mistake. 

You walked into camp and scanned the area, trying to find Bill so you could confront him. Dutch sat outside his tent, reading a book. A frustrated Arthur was playing dominoes with Tilly. And Micah sat at one of the tables, cleaning his revolvers. It seemed as though everyone was around except for Bill.

“Mic, have you seen Bill this morning?” you asked as you walked up to Micah. The man scoffed “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”. “But it’s your name” you replied. “That ain’t my name” he snapped back, glaring at you. “But your name’s Mic-ah” you sounded it out as if you were teaching Jack a new word.

Micah rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath but he stopped when he noticed you yawn. “Awh, you all tired out from being out on watch?” he mocked. “I’m not tired” you answered bluntly.

“Sure you ain’t” Micah replied sarcastically.

The truth was you did feel a bit drained. You had just spent the whole night on guard duty, of course you were kinda tired but you weren’t going to admit that to him.

You and Micah always had a strange friendship. Half the time you were both arguing with one another, hurling insults at each other and bickering over anything and everything. But then a few hours later you would both be sitting at one of the tables, laughing together as if you were the best of friends. It was strange but it worked.

“Seriously, I’m not tired” you reinforced, knowing he didn't believe you the first time you said it “you’d be surprised how long I can stay awake”. “Is that so?” he questioned, focusing his attention on cleaning his revolvers again. A small smirk tugged at your lips “Yeah, I mean I could definitely stay awake longer than you. That wouldn’t even be a challenge”.

Why were you saying this? Well, you had only one reason. You wanted to annoy him.

Micah chuckled “Now you’re just lying to yourself”. “Or you’re underestimating me” you corrected him. You knew there was no way Micah could go longer without sleep than you. Sure, you spent the night awake but from the dark circles under Micah’s eyes, it was obvious he had a couple of restless nights recently. 

“I’d even make a bet that I could stay awake longer than you” you smirked. Micah let out a loud, arrogant laugh as he looked at you again “That’s real funny”. 

“What? You scared I’ll win?” you continued to annoy him. 

“There ain’t no way in hell you’d win” he furrowed his brow.

“You wanna bet on that?” you asked. Micah considered it for a couple of seconds, his gaze momentarily flicking down to his guns before looking at you “Fine, but don’t expect me to let you win”.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Bill cautiously step into camp. “There he is” you muttered to yourself. Bill hesitantly glanced around, presumably trying to see where you were so he could avoid you. “Williamson!” you called, getting his attention. Bill looked at you with wide eyes before turning on his heels and walking in the opposite direction.

You started to walk after him, not about to let him get away that easily. “Hey, get back here!” you yelled. Micah chuckled as you jogged after Bill. He was confident that you would fall asleep first, especially since you just got off guard duty. There was no way you’d win this bet, Micah was sure of it.

12:30pm You sat under a tree, listening to the gentle midday breeze make its way through the branches overhead. You had been reading a book Mary-Beth recommended to you but put it down on your lap, the warm summer’s day starting to make you feel drowsy. 

“You asleep yet?” Micah suddenly appeared. You quickly opened your eyes and blinked a few times to try and quickly wake yourself up. “You know I’m not sleeping until you do” you reminded him. “You weren’t being serious about that, were you?” he questioned.

“Of course I was”.

“Huh, well you’re gonna be waiting a while,” he replied, only now starting to realize you were being deadly serious about this bet “I don’t plan on losing an easy bet”.

He leaned against the tree, taking out a pack of cigarettes and putting one between his lips. “How was your talk with Williamson?” he asked, putting the packet back into his pocket and taking out a match. “It was fine, he said he’ll do my next shift on guard duty to make it up to me. Actually, when was the last time you went on duty?” you gazed up at him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Micah out there on guard. In fact, you couldn’t remember a time he was ever on guard duty.

“Why would I waste my time doing that?” Micah sneered, lifting his boot and striking the match off of it. You sighed, picking up your book again and flicking through to the page you stopped at “You can be so grumpy when you’re tired”.

“I ain’t tired” he grunted. You laughed softly, making Micah huff. “Sleep’s overrated” he said with a new found determination “and I will win this bet, make no mistake about that”. Micah stormed off, mumbling what you presumed where insults under his breath.

You admired how seriously he was starting to take the bet but you knew he wouldn’t last. Sure, you had been awake for many, many hours at this point and you were tired but Micah could’ve been awake for days by now. He never was keen on sleep and that’s what made you think this was going to be an easy bet to win. Even if you didn’t win, maybe this would encourage Micah to sleep and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, that would be a good thing too.

4pm You were helping Pearson with dinner. Normally you didn’t but he had a fight with Sadie earlier in the day so you decided to step in and give her a break. You chopped the vegetables, humming a tune to yourself.

“Well, well, well, what’re you doing?” a voice asked from behind you. You didn’t bother turning around. Micah always had a distinct voice you could recognize immediately. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you replied with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

You expected him to move around the table and into your line of sight but instead Micah peered over your shoulder, slyly placing his hand on your hip as he did. “Hmmm” was all he said as he looked down at the vegetables. You expected him to move but he stayed where he was, his chest pressing against your back and his hand subconsciously kneading your hip.

A strong scent suddenly hit your nostrils and you couldn’t help but scrunch up your nose. “Have you been drinking?” you turned your head towards him. Micah also turned his head to look at you properly, his lips curving upwards and into a smirk. “Maybe” he grinned.

You could smell the whiskey every time his hot breath hit your face. You hadn’t realized how close his face was to yours until his eyes momentarily flicked down to your lips.

It caught you by surprise, your nose nearly bumping against his. Micah didn't expect your faces to be so close either, his mouth staying slightly open though he stayed quiet. You’ve heard the phrase ‘getting lost in someone’s eyes’ but you didn’t think it was actually real. Yet there you were, unable to stop gazing into his blue eyes, as if there was a magnetic pull to him.

You had to remind yourself that you were in the middle of camp with other people nearby. You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from his. Micah snapped back to reality too, taking his hand off your hip and stepping away from you. 

He moved over to the other side of the table, resting his weight against it. “You, uh... you wanna have a drink with me?” he asked, glancing around to see if anyone else was nearby. You focused your attention on chopping the vegetables “I can’t, Pearson has about ten other things he needs me to do”.

Micah rolled his eyes “You know, if you keep helping ‘em all the damn time then they’ll start treating you like a workhorse”.

You laughed “As if you know anything about working and pulling your weight around camp”.

“Just tryna look out for ya,” he mumbled “you’ll thank me one day”.

“I’m sure I will,” you replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in your voice ”now shoo, you’re distracting me”. You scooped up the vegetables in your hands and turned your back to Micah, walking over to dump them into the pot of stew.

Micah let out a forced chuckle before he picked up a bottle of beer and made his way over to the campfire. A smirk spread across your face as you watched Micah gulp down his beer. Maybe this would be a good thing. If Micah was drinking alcohol then surely it'd make him tired fast. In a way, he was unknowingly sabotaging his chances of winning. You nodded to yourself as you got back to work, confident that you’d win.

10:35pm Your mind was in a cycle. Within an hour you’d go from feeling completely fine to absolutely exhausted. You had spent the last ten minutes in a daze, staring at the campfire with drooped eyelids. Out of all the days to make a bet with Micah to see who could stay awake longer, why did it have to be the day after your night shift? Micah sat at one of the tables, sipping on yet another beer. He looked normal… well, whatever normal is for Micah. Basically, he didn’t look tired.

“And that’s why you should never trust people that swim in the same water they fish in” announced Sean. You snapped out of your daze, raising your eyebrows as you looked at him. “What?” you asked, completely baffled by his statement. 

Sean tilted his head “Wha- have you been listening to me? I’m trying to teach you some very valuable life lessons here”.

“Yes, yes, thank you” you nodded your head, still confused but deciding to act as though you knew what the hell he was on about “that was, uh… quite something”. 

A proud smile spread across Sean’s face as he stood “See, I knew you’d find that helpful”. He lifted his arms up as he stretched. “That’s me done for the night,” he let out a big yawn “I’m robbing a stage tomorrow so I need my wits about me”. You tried not to yawn too, clenching your jaw. “Good luck with that” you replied, a small yawn managing to escape. 

With Sean heading off to bed, you realized that there weren’t a lot of people still awake. Micah got up and walked over to the beer crate, picking up another full bottle. You got up and followed him over.

“I told you, this is bet is going to go on for a while” he said, knowing it was you who was approaching. “I know,” you replied “but I don’t plan on giving up anytime soon”.

“You want a beer now?” he offered, lifting up another bottle. You thought about it for a few seconds “Nah, it’ll only make me sleepy”. “You sure?” he waved the bottle slightly “just one drink?”.

You knew Micah was already after having a plentiful amount of drink so no matter how sleepy the alcohol made you feel, it would have the same effects on him but sooner. “Ok,” you took the beer “but just one”.

2:23am You told yourself you were only going to have one beer and you meant that, you really did. But you were having a good time, so one beer turned to two beers, and then three, and then four. 

You weren’t sure what number you were on now but the good news is that you weren’t feeling tired. You were definitely drunk but not tired.

At some point, you both decided to go for a walk along the outskirts of camp. You knew Micah must’ve felt sleepy since he was the one who suggested it, presumably to try and keep himself awake. The two of you strolled through the woods, chatting and laughing until eventually you decided to sit down by a tree. Micah sat down next to you, putting his arm around your shoulders without a second thought to the action.

He was warm and surprisingly comfortable as you shuffled closer to him. You could stay there forever. You’re breathing started to slow as each blink seemed to last longer. 

“So what do you want if you win this bet?” Micah asked, a relaxed smile on his face. You blinked again, this time keeping your eyes closed “Haven’t decided yet. Why, how much do you want if you win?”. You presumed Micah wanted cash if he won.

“I, um… I wasn’t going to ask for money” he revealed, his breathing getting heavier.

“What were you going to ask for?" you asked.

He hesitated, debating whether to say it or not. “I dunno…” he stalled “maybe, uh…”.

You waited patiently, too relaxed to care about how long it would take him to say it. “Maybe something like a… a kiss” he said shyly before he immediately began to backtrack “but money sound’s good".

“You… you wanted a kiss?” you opened your eyes and sat up straight to look at him. For once, Micah actually looked nervous. The flirtatious, confident front he usually portrays had completely vanished. He wasn’t sure what to say. Slowly, a smile spread across your face. “Yeah, that could be arranged” you giggled.

Micah nodded, a goofy smile on his face. You settled against Micah again, resting your head by his chest. You could hear his heart rapidly beating. “but you gotta win to get your reward” you reminded him. He chuckled, holding you close to him “And I intend to”.

“I have to admit, I thought I would’ve won this by now” you sighed, closing your eyes again. “That's not gonna happen” Micah muttered, resting his head on top of yours.

You hated how your mind wandered into thinking that this is what life would be like if you were dating Micah. You liked being this close to him, feeling his warmth and finding his breathing relaxing. Micah was an awful man yet for some reason, you found comfort in him.

You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep, finding it harder and harder to open your eyes. Just as you were about to give in to the exhaustion, you heard a noise.

It sounded like a snort and it came from the man next to you.

You opened your eyes and blinked a few times, trying to get your brain to work. Trying your best not to disturb Micah, you moved your head up to look at him. A massive smile spread across your face as you realized Micah had drifted off to sleep.

You couldn’t believe it, he was actually sleeping. He let out another snort as he nuzzled his head closer to yours. You wanted to get up and celebrate but you also didn’t want to wake him up.

You knew in the morning he was going to argue that he didn’t fall asleep. There was no way he was going to admit that you won the bet. You wondered what you’d get for winning. A part of you wanted to ask him to buy you a drink at the saloon in town, or pay for dinner for the both of you. Either way, you had won and there was no way you were going to let him forget about this for a long, long time.

[chordwrites]

The Healer

Prologue (not necessary to read first but provides some context)

Healer hid, watching Hero approach the beaten and unmoving Villain. If they were dead, all of Healer’s efforts would be meaningless. 

Usually, Healer would wait until the battle was over to attend to the injured, or would find a moment when the fighting parties were separated to offer a quick heal. But Hero and Villain had never separated long enough for Healer to intervene, and Healer doubted that this hero would grant Villain any respite. 

Healer pulled a few fireworks out of their satchel. They snuck a few building away—close enough for Hero to hear it but far enough to give Healer a few moments with Villain while Hero investigated. Healer muttered a small prayer, to who, they did not know. If this didn’t work, they’d be all out of ideas for helping Villain. 

Quickly, they lit the fireworks, aiming them low, but away from any buildings that might hold occupants. The dumpsters should work nicely, and if a fire started, Hero would be able to put it out before it affected any citizens.

If their plan was successful, that is. 

Healer raced towards the site of the battle, the explosion of fireworks sounding a few paces behind them and the impact against the dumpster augmenting the noise. They stuck to the shadows, and sighed in relief when they found Villain alone. 

Healer crept forward, dread building as they searched for any sign that Villain was still breathing. They rested their hands on Villain’s chest, smiling a little when Villain’s chest rose and fell against their palms. 

Healer concentrated, focusing warm energy out of their hands and into Villain, willing their body to be whole again. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hero asked from behind them. 

Healer jumped, but maintained the energy coursing into Villain.

“Healing them,” they said weakly. 

“Why?”

“Because I can, and they needed it.” Their motivation had never been complex. If you have the ability to help others, you do it. 

Hero scoffed. “Don’t you know the things they’ve done? You’re healing a monster.”

“I... not the specifics.” Healer had tried to stay away from the news and media after they’d realized that the heroes could be just as cruel as the villains.

“You’re young, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. They’ve murdered hundreds, and the total casualty tally is even larger. Is that kind of person worth saving?” Hero paused, either waiting for a response or allowing Healer to soak in their question. Regardless, Healer chose not to respond, instead staring intently at their hands and the warm glow that emanated from them. “We always need new heroes, and your drive to help others is admirable. But what you’re doing now isn’t justice.” Hero pointed at Villain. “Helping someone like them isn’t justice.”

Healer’s hands shook. “I don’t care about justice. I don’t think I have the right to decide who deserves to be saved and who doesn’t.” God, healing was draining enough without debating personal morals with another super. 

“Then listen to me, I’m saying this one doesn’t.” 

The arrogance. “I don’t think you should be able to make that decision either,” Healer said.  

The following silence sent a shiver down Healer’s spine. Dammit, why couldn’t they heal any faster? “If you save them, all the death they wrought from here on out will be your responsibility to bear.”

Healer's power continued to pour into Villain. That was a responsibility that Healer accepted, though they did not bear it well. It kept them up at night, and the accompanying depression had worried their mother to no end for the year or so they’d been doing this. They didn’t want Villain to hurt anyone, but they didn’t want to see them killed either. Healer didn’t know what was right, but they knew Hero’s way wasn’t it. It couldn’t be. They'd decided it was easier to forget about right and wrong, and just focus on healing anyone they could. Healer wouldn’t discriminate between the injured and dying. 

Maybe it was too idealistic. Or maybe the adults weren’t idealistic enough. 

Hero laughed quietly—a dark, intimidating sound. “If you’re helping the likes of a villain, you might as well be one yourself.” 

The sudden rustle of movement startled Healer out of their concentration. They spun around, and Hero was in front of them, fist swinging. Healer braced themself.

Arms wrapped around Healer from behind pulling them back just before Hero’s fist connected. The arms grasped Healer’s waist and lifted them into a firefighter’s carry over Villain’s shoulder. Villain dodged a few more swings, keeping Healer secure despite the fast pace of the encounter. 

Then, Villain ran, weaving between buildings and through alleyways as Hero kept on their trail. Not knowing what else to do, Healer clutched the back of Villain’s super suit. 

Though Hero was fast, Villain seemed to know exactly where to go to confuse them, slinking into the shadows and maneuvering through the most obstructed areas. A few minutes into the chase, Villain halted, causing Healer’s face to slam into Villain’s back. The two ducked into a crevice between two buildings that Healer wouldn’t have noticed if Villain hadn’t been directing them into it. 

The two sat in loud, breathy silence for a long time. Villain had an arm wrapped around Healer, and Healer clung to that arm like a lifeline. They didn’t understand what just happened. They were just helping people, weren’t they? How could that warrant a death sentence from a hero who was sworn to protect them? 

And with Hero’s strength, that strike would have been one. 

Healer didn’t know how long they waited, but at last, Villain let go of them and stepped out of their hiding spot, Healer not far behind. 

Finally getting a good look at Villain, Healer scanned them for injuries. Though they’d managed to close up the vital ones, Villain still looked worse for wear, bruises covering almost every inch of visible skin, and blood soaking through most of their suit. 

Villain stared at Healer, and Healer thought they saw a stern expression buried beneath the mask and mountain of bruises. 

“I... I can heal up the rest of your wounds for you,” Healer said. 

Villain shook their head. Healer wanted to protest, but as they stepped forward, their legs shook and their head spun. Even if Villain had accepted their offer, it was doubtful that Healer would have been able to follow through. 

Villain tapped their throat, drawing Healer’s attention, then mouthed something. Thank you. 

“No problem,” Healer said, their voice cracking a little. “Thank you, too, for getting me out of there.” For saving my life, Healer thought. 

Villain nodded and mouthed something else, but as much as Healer concentrated, they couldn’t decipher the meaning. Villain shook their head again, this time more so at themself than at Healer, and pulled out a small pocket notebook and a pen. They scribbled something down.

Where do you need to go? I’ll make sure you get there. 

“Oh, that’s alright. You don’t have to do that.” As much as they wanted to help heroes, villains, and civilians alike, they didn’t really need anyone to know where they lived. 

Villain stared at them. 

“You can go back to your home or base. I can make it back on my own.”

Villain’s eyes didn’t waver. 

“It... it’s in walking distance if you want to walk with me, but I can’t have anyone in full super gear near my home.” 

Villain nodded and pulled off their mask, right in front of Healer. Healer blanched at the utter disregard for secret identities. But they didn’t sense any ill will or ulterior motive, so they went behind a trash can and began changing into their own civilian clothes as Villain did the same. When they stepped back out, Villain made a point of not looking at Healer. Maybe they were trying to respect their identity, not that it would help much if Villain knew where they lived. 

Healer walked home and Villain trailed behind them like some sort of underworld bodyguard. Every time Healer glanced back, Villain was scanning their surroundings with an intense alertness. Healer couldn’t blame them, they were keeping an eye out for any sign of Hero, themself. The thought of them sent their stomach into somersaults. Yet, there was something comforting about Villain trailing behind them. 

Their anxiety mixed with guilt as they remembered Hero’s words. What did it say about them that a mass murderer trailing behind them was comforting. Wait, were they putting their mom in danger by letting Villain come with them? 

But it was too late to do anything about it, now. They were already on Healer’s block. “This is it,” they said, and Villain nodded. Healer noted that Villain still wasn’t looking at their face, their eyes instead pointed at the ground with occasional flickers towards the adjacent streets. “Thank you,” Healer said, with an awkward laugh. “I was really scared back there.”

Villain nodded again, and Healer started closing the distance to their apartment. The next time they turned around, Villain was gone. 

[avversiera-writes]

touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - chapter 10

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: about 5k

AO3 LINK TO TOUCH YOUR HEART

AOR SERIES LINK TO ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART

[<<<CHAPTER ONE] [CHAPTER TWO] [CHAPTER THREE] [CHAPTER FOUR] [CHAPTER FIVE] [CHAPTER SIX] [CHAPTER SEVEN] [CHAPTER EIGHT] [CHAPTER NINE] 

“You’re really going?” Madara inquires. He is seated in front of you, with a small wooden table between. A candle and two cups of tea sits on its surface. 

 You smile at him. “Yeah. I need to make amends. Help out those who need help and be good, whatever that means.” 

 Madara’s eyebrows knit in worry. “I could come with you.” 

You let out a chuckle and you reach for your friend’s hand. “It’s okay. I can handle my own. You know I need to do this.”

 Madara looks at you doubtfully, then he stares at your hand on top of his. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence. You glance at Madara’s face, the candle light flickering shadows on his skin. You notice the dark bags underneath his eyes and you worry about whether he is not getting any sleep. Madara moves his hand to cover yours, and he squeezes it. 

“I…” Madara starts. He presses his thin lips together. 

 You raise your eyebrows up, expectant. 

 “Nevermind,” Madara sighs. 

You lean forward to encourage him. “Come on. You can tell me anything.” 

 Madara’s eyes grow hesitant. His thumb grazes over your skin, and the action makes you swallow your words. This makes you sad. Someone finally cares about you and you are going to leave them behind. 

“Madara,” you whine. 

 “What will you do when you get back?” Madara asks tentatively. 

You stare at your friend, trying to think. You did not think about this ahead. “I do not know.” 

 “Will you still pursue a career of being a shinobi?” 

“Of course,” you tell him. “It is my life.” 

 Madara nods, and he looks to the side. “Will you be happy, if you do?” 

Your eyes swim for a moment. “Madara, what is going on?” 

Madara retracts his hand and buries it underneath the table. “Nothing.”

 “Madara?” You call for him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.” 

Madara nods, and a small smile softens his cold features. “Don’t die. I will not forgive you, if you do.” 

 You smirk, and you slowly stand up. “That’s a given.” 

You head towards the exit of his room. You hesitate to slide it open, your fingers resting at the handle. 

“I do not have any plans. I do not have a dream either,” you start to say. “But I want to figure it out. See where I stand in the grand scheme of things.”

You move your arm to slide the door open. 

 “That is not an easy path to take,” Madara warns, moving his hand to take his cup. 

 “When did I ever want easy?” You give him a huge grin, one full of bravado. If you are being honest, you are afraid of going out there once again, but this is the way forward. 

Pride is the last thing you see from Madara’s eyes before you close his door. 

//

You do not see Tobirama until the day you have to be on the Academy grounds, where the ceremony to announce its new curriculum and reformation is going to happen. You stay by the sidelines, your eyes tracking him as he moves about. His face and his demeanor is calm, but there is an air of frenzy surrounding him, as if his skin is itching but he cannot scratch it to ease his discomfort. The sun travels high across the sky, and the expression on Tobirama’s face becomes worse. His eyes start to squint, giving an impression that he is glaring at just about anything he sees, and the lines of his face start to form a scowl. 

 People start to gather in front of the Academy, children, parents, and people visiting from outside of Konoha. You stick to the shadows, carefully watching your back just in case another person tries to pull a knife on you again. 

 That is the only reason you want to get out there again–to offer help to anyone who is desperate to go after you, and to stop the bounty on your head. You know that you must come back to where it all began. Instead of hurting others, you want to use your skills to save because you think you can do it. Hashirama and Madara believe you can do it. 

 You wait for a little bit more, and finally, Hashirama and Tobirama take to the stage that was quickly built this morning. Hashirama says a few good words after retelling the brief beginnings of Konoha and the alliances between the clans that reside in it, and then, he steps aside to let his brother speak. 

 Tobirama glares at the crowd. You watch him with amusement. 

“My brother has a vision of what the Academy can be,” Tobirama begins. “It is not only a place to train young shinobis, but it is also a place to foster an environment where they can excel in many areas such as the sciences and the arts. I proudly announce that I have reformed the Academy to be exactly that…”

You frown. 

 Tobirama finishes his speech and goes on to summarize the curriculum by reading the titles and its author . There is no mention of your name anywhere. Not even a slight reference to you. 

 Something hot washes over you, and it makes your head dizzy. 

 When Tobirama steps off the stage, he nods at everyone and his brother and welcomes the people to explore the Academy. 

 You fight through the crowd to get to him, but he gets farther and farther away. 

You see Hashirama clutching a copy of the curriculum in one arm as he entertains a few children. 

 You wait for an opening, and you fake your smile as you greet Hashirama and ask to see the book. 

 You stare at the first page where Tobirama’s name is printed. Your head becomes empty. 

Suddenly, you push the book back into Hashirama and you bound after Tobirama with a boiling determination to bury your fist into his face. You try not to shout his name in the crowd, and instead, you run to him and you violently push him into another direction.

"I can't believe you!" You almost shout, once the two of you step into the empty classroom.

 Tobirama's hard expression does not change. 

You have never felt rage like this. You have been angry to the point that it gives you enough power to destroy things, but this rage is different. You only see fire, and it makes your heart burn and your face hot. Most of all, it makes tears prick your eye, making your vision blurry. All you can do is yell out because this one really stings. 

 “Are you not going to say anything?” You bark. “Say something or I am going to take my katana and fucking stick it up your arrogant, senile ass!” 

 Tobirama seems to take his time to make up his mind. You are too angry to see the conflict crossing on his face and the more he stays silent, the more you want to rage on. How can he just do this? 

 “Why aren’t you saying something?” You scream, the question tearing at your throat. Your head is spinning. You have never felt like this before. 

You feel...betrayed. 

 Your heart shatters before you can grab the pieces to salvage them.

Tobirama’s eyes are rippling with unsaid words, but they settle and they grow indifferent. “You are a criminal. I could not have your name publicized and connected to the Academy.” 

You gape at Tobirama, realization dawning on you. His suspicions, his need to keep track of you and your movements, his invasive questions to you, his constant monitoring of your abilities and what you can’t do. 

 It is all too much. 

 “After I tell you something so personal to me,” you grit your teeth and clench your fists to keep yourself from throwing him on the ground. “You use it against me in a very prejudiced way?”

 You go to a desk, and with sheer strength, you flip it over and it crashes to the floor, knocking back a few chairs. 

 Tobirama keeps silent and his expression remains stoic. His jaw tightens, and he is also clenching his fists to the point that they are shaking. 

“What is going on here?!” Hashirama interrupts, barging in through the classroom doors. 

 You try not to glare at the Hokage so you keep your eyes to the ground. 

“Nothing,” Tobirama grinds out. 

 “Your brother,” you slowly start. “Accidentally left my name out on this project you assigned to us, in which we equally worked on.” 

Hashirama’s head snaps to Tobirama, disbelief written all over his face. “Is that why you wouldn’t show me the whole thing in the beginning?" He asks his brother. 

 “You’re only in this for the money,” Tobirama says through gritted teeth, but it sounds like he is trying to convince himself. He does not even look at you when he says this. 

Your mouth drops in shock. “How dare you?!” You have never been so outrightly insulted. 

 “Tobirama, that is enough!” Hashirama interrupts. 

 “What is it to you anyway?” Tobirama demands, his face growing even more emotionless. “You’re just loud, but there really isn’t anything to you. You’re just an empty can, clanking around, making noises to get attention.” 

 Hashirama looks shocked at his brother’s words, and his eyes flit to you with concern immediately. “Tobirama!” Hashirama scolds, wanting to knock sense into his head. 

You stare at Tobirama, and then you turn away when you feel a hot tear slide down your cheek. “Wow,” you laugh to yourself. “To my naivety I thought you couldn’t get worse. On top of being a jerk, you are also quite egoistic, forget it.”

You quickly wipe the tear away, wondering why you cannot depend on your usual facade to hide your hurt away. You take a few deep breaths, and then you turn to Tobirama. 

 “Get fucked, you bastard,” you snarl, and with that, you walk away from him. “I’m glad this is the last time I’ll get to see your shitty face.” 

//

Tobirama stares at the space you just left, and he feels bereft of any feeling except regret. He tries to push it away but it weighs down on him to the point that he is bracing himself on a desk. He is an expert at controlling his emotions and yet, he cannot control the guilt that is taking over him. He feels shame over his own words and he immediately wants to chase you down and take it all back, but he plants his feet and he stares at the surface of the table he is leaning on. 

“What did you do?” Hashirama quietly asks, staring at the back of his brother’s head. 

 “Leave me alone,” Tobirama says. 

“Tobirama,” Hashirama calls his name, trying to make him talk. 

 “I said, leave me alone!” Tobirama slams his palms on the table. 

“Tobirama, you are acting like a child,” Hashirama scolds, the warmth from his voice undetectable. “I suggest you get it together.” 

 “Or else?” Tobirama retorts, feeling risky today. His brother can be scary when he is angry, and he deserves to receive his brother’s wrath. 

Hashirama grabs his arm harshly, forcing his brother to look at him. “Why did you do that?” 

Tobirama grits his teeth and he does not look his brother in the eye. 

 “Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Tobirama takes his arm away and he starts to pace in the classroom. “Do you really want to know why?” 

 “Yes. Why?” 

 “Because if her name gets out in public and it is associated with mine, not only will that put a target on her back, she will also get my enemies on top of hers!” Tobirama shouts, his voice almost cracking from his outburst. 

Hashirama stares at his brother, processing what he just said. “What?” He breathes out. “It’s not because you know about her past or you're being your judgemental self?” 

 “No! I don’t care about that! How could you make her work with me?” Tobirama grows quiet, and he takes his hand and covers his forehead with his palm. “How could you just dump that on me...just how?!” He suddenly bursts out. "She is unbearable!"

Hashirama suddenly understands where his brother is coming from. “You should have just talked to her.” 

 Tobirama glances at the door. “Yeah, well. You could have warned me, elder brother.” 

 “Then would you have worked with her in the first place?” Hashirama asks. 

 “No,” Tobirama scowls. 

 Hashirama raises an eyebrow. “Exactly.” 

Tobirama falls silent, and his forehead creases. 

 “And I am also her Hokage. I can’t be giving out her secrets without her permission,” Hashirama adds, his voice gentle this time. “You should have told her because she is going away for a mission today.” 

Tobirama’s head snaps at this and he bounds for the door immediately, but his brother stops him. 

 “Leave her be and give her space,” Hashirama advises. “She will be back.” 

 Tobirama shakes his head, but he does not want to impose on you anymore. He leans back into the edge of a table and he folds his arms together. 

 “She is not who you think she is,” Hashirama tells Tobirama. 

 “I know,” Tobirama quietly says, staring at one spot on the floor. 

 “Tobirama, you are one hell of a fool,” Hashirama continues to scold. 

Tobirama glances up at his brother. and he grits his teeth “Stop it, elder brother, I am aware of what I did.” 

He continues to glare daggers on the spot on the floor, and although he is trying to push his guilt away like he is used to doing, it does not abate and it hangs over his head like a kind of condemnation. 

 He really drove you away, and so easily. 

//

“Took you long enough,” the woman with the brown eyes–Hina, you remember from the day she attempted to stab you–says, peeling herself away from the shadows of the trees. “We have a deadline to meet.” 

 “I had some men problems,” you roll your eyes and you keep walking. “Let’s go.” 

 “I’m surprised you even want to tag along, you had a good life in there,” Hina says, matching your quick strides. “And why don’t you just kill him? It’d save you time.”

 “How many times do I have to repeat that–”

 “Yeah, yeah, you don’t do that anymore,” Hina finishes and she gives you an unimpressed look. “Why did you even stop? I don’t understand.”

“I changed my mind, that’s it,” you lie. 

 “You felt guilty,” Hina surmises. “You never come back from killing, you know.” 

 You raise a shoulder to shrug, too angry to elaborate or to come up with a smart comeback. “Sure.” 

Hina unsheathes her knife and she flips it over in her hand. “Don’t give me that.” 

 “Why? I don’t even know you. You tried to kill me, remember?” 

 “Yeah, but now, we are working together.”

You sigh. You are tired of teamwork. It has not served you in any way that benefits you. 

 “I promise I won’t kill you,” Hina says, and she uncovers her hood from her head. Reddish brown hair falls down her shoulders and strands fall over her eyes. “Your turn to promise the same thing.”

You roll your eyes. “I promise,” you obnoxiously exclaim, not really meaning it. “Now, shut up and let’s go.” 

 You keep your eyes forward, using this newfound anger in you to not spare the village another glance.

//

Two years later…

Tobirama’s nephews push him to take them to the new meat restaurant that just recently opened up. He sighs, but he gives in since he got off work early and they came all the way to fetch him anyway. He watches them fondly as they fight and jostle each other as they walk, and he lets his mind wander about his latest research and the new jutsus that he just came up with. His brother did not approve of some, forcing him to seal them away and storing them in a more secured place. This is becoming a pattern between the two of them, and at times, Tobirama thinks that every jutsu he comes up with is dangerous to his brother. 

 He cannot blame him, though. Tobirama has been obsessing over his experiments more than usual because there are no more fights to go to. He has made a habit of picking up his pen over his sword. 

 He has kept himself busy, especially now that other Hidden villages are trying to model right after them. His brother sends him to many diplomatic missions to make allies, establish trade and commerce with nearby lands to make sure that Konoha is flourishing and growing. He also participates more in political games to gain resources and to learn of the newest technology. On top of his duties of being the Hokage’s advisor, he is also a teacher and he makes sure that his students are progressing in their careers as shinobi by taking them to espionage missions or bringing them to other lands to protect people and help out wherever they can. 

 He pushes them, and in turn, he also pushes himself to evolve more. He has a routine that he prides himself on following when he is well enough, but he breaks them occasionally when he is rendered inaccessible due to his bouts of manic passion, where he gets all of his work and thinking done all by himself. Hashirama warns him about self-preservation and reminds him of his many self-inflicted accidents, but Tobirama is not one to worry about himself when he is so close to accomplishing a new feat. 

 He is unstoppable when he is in his element.  

And in his most vulnerable moments, when he feels like the weight of his responsibilities are too much (something he will never ever admit because he is a very proud man who loves what he does), his mind goes to you without his consent. He tries not to think about you at all, but his inhibitions fail him in the worst of times and his worries for you escape his most guarded parts of his mind and to the forefront of his thinking. He does not have feelings of contempt over the fact that this is how he is now, but you are gone. There is no point of fighting himself over feelings that will fade in time. Tobirama hopes they do fade in time. 

 He has more important matters to attend to. He has lives to look after and take care of. He cannot afford to entertain his sorry feelings. 

 He is also a shinobi. He trained all his life to set aside personal afflictions for the sake of the bigger picture. He cannot fail himself and his ways. 

 He has all the time to keep convincing himself that this is how it should be for him. 

His many nephews push open the door to the new restaurant, and Tobirama follows after them, warning them to calm down. 

 Sometimes, having their father’s exuberance has its disadvantages. 

 Tobirama naturally looks around the restaurant, observing the decorations: the traditional paintings of landscapes hanging on the wall and the small, makeshift fountain in the corner, where tiny fishes are swimming, the way the tables and booths are arranged. Then, his heart stops when his gaze lands on the familiar shape of your head. You are seated by the counter, quietly munching on your meal like you have not eaten in days. Your weapons lie on the next chair beside you, and there is a knapsack by your feet. 

 Tobirama cannot help but marvel at you, and he thinks that he is seeing a ghost because you have been gone for so long. He never thought that he would see you again. 

 Even in his fair share of travels, he attempts to look for you, and each time, he comes up with nothing and he is nowhere near where you are. He knows his thoughts are becoming more absurd by the moment, but he cannot help but stare at you. He notices that your skin is darker, probably from long exposure from the sun, and there are new healed scars on your arms that he never saw before, but most of all, you are alive. 

 He has spent so many months wondering if you are safe, that seeing you here is a relief, like a breath that he has been holding so damn long. Tobirama does not know what to say. He couldn’t just go there and sit himself near you and start a conversation, not after what he pulled. 

 He deserves your silence. He deserves nothing from you. 

 What would he even say in the first place? 

 That when he no longer hears your vindictive laugh coming after him, when your loud presence and your insulting demeanor are no longer terrorizing him, he has the urge to seek you out. 

 That despite the fact that he should no longer be thinking of you and what he did to you, he still does, and he does it obsessively, as if taking apart that moment can piece him another result that will not end in you leaving. 

Tobirama feels sick as he slides into the booth with his nephews. He is glad that the booth hides him from view, but if he really tries to turn his body, he can easily spot you. 

 Someone comes to serve them, and Tobirama waits for his turn as his nephews shout their orders out.

//

Arriving just a few hours ago, you hear about a new restaurant that has opened in Konoha. You take your time to get there, observing the new things that are happening in the village. The place has changed a lot in two years, and it seems like the place has also grown in population. You try not to wonder about one of the people leading this village who definitely had a big role in encouraging Konoha to grow this strong, but your mind fails you because the Senju clan’s influence is tangible in the air. The people clearly worship their Hokage, because you hear songs in the streets dedicated to Hashirama and poems being recited to tell his feats in battle and in building this village. Naturally, word outside the village travels fast when it comes to the formidable Senju brothers. 

 You hear that Tobirama has grown into a bigger role of politicking, and you speculate that he prefers to work in the background and have his brother in the spotlight because you do not hear songs or poems about him, or see colorful painted portraits of him being sold in the markets of Konoha. 

 Again, you try not to think about him, but his absence in the corners of the streets you pass by just pushes your mind to fill in the gaps with him. 

 Time away from Tobirama did not foster your distaste for him. Instead, you are filled with questions. You want to understand where he is coming from. You want to understand his intentions. You have always known based on your instincts and expertise of reading people that he is the type to lay his life down for this village and his elder brother, that his heart is dedicated to a cause bigger than him. You know deep in your heart, he is a good man, so you want him to talk and explain why he decided to exclude your name from the credit of participating in creating the Academy’s curriculum. 

 Despite his harsh words, he did only speak of the truth. It made sense, though it does not excuse the fact that he hurt you and actively chose to do that. 

 He should have talked. 

 You are disappointed in him, because you know that he can do better. You have seen him be better than that. 

 Your only regret is that you have let your anger blind you for the first time. You are usually pretty good at keeping your cool, but suddenly, when it comes to Tobirama, your feelings become heightened for no damn reason. It’s like his face triggers you and your mouth fires off to immediately insult him and make him see and hear you. 

 You arrive at the new restaurant, and your mouth waters at the sweet and savory smell of meat cooking. It has been a while since you had a good, hearty meal and that is what you will have, before you meet with the Hokage and catch up with Madara. 

 You keep still in your seat as you wait, trying your best to not walk around and touch everything in the restaurant because it is pretty neat. A group of loud boys enter the restaurant, and you chuckle to yourself, remembering Hashirama’s cute sons, but then your food arrives and you quickly take your utensil to eat. You have been so hungry that it does not matter how others perceive you right now. 

“The bill, please,” you request once you are finished eating. 

 The waiter hands refills your glass of water. “Your bill has been paid.” 

 “What?” You say in surprise, completely puzzled. “When?”

 You clearly did not pay your bill before you ate. 

“Just a few moments ago,” the waiter replies and he leaves you to your thoughts. 

You stare at your filled glass, thinking that you got lucky today and that the restaurant is probably doing this to garner more customers. 

 You admit to yourself that what they are doing is a good strategy. 

You shrug to yourself and gather your things so that you can meet Hashirama. You have been dying to catch up with him, and most of all, you are hoping to get a glimpse of Tobirama. 

 The anger you felt towards him is gone, and it replaces with an uncomfortable feeling on your chest. 

 You ignore it, lest it blossoms into something you cannot control. 

//

Hashirama greets you with open arms, and he goes to you like an eager child and you are immediately pulled into a huge embrace. You let out a surprised laugh, and Hashirama steps back to examine you. A huge grin spreads across his features and you cannot help reflecting back his sentiments. 

“I’m here!” You exclaim. 

 “Two years, my gods,” Hashirama cries out, his hands settling on your shoulders. “You could have sent a letter.” 

 You shrug apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“No matter, no matter!” Hashirama walks back to his desk. “So? Tell me all about it.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to find the courage to retell what happened to you for the last two years. Different events flash into your mind, but you decide to start from the very beginning. Hashirama nods expectantly, encouraging you.

You leave with Hina, the woman who was sent to kill you. The two of you take the job that Nuga speaks of, which is to assassinate the leader of a growing gang towards the eastern lands, near the ocean. You had offered to help Hina so that she could make it back to her family, and then go on your way from there to offer your skills to help people. However, it did not go as planned. 

  The gang has controlled the growing ports near the ocean, signifying their growing power. As the two of you infiltrate the living quarters of the leader, swarms of his subordinates flood the hallways and the two of you become surrounded. With no way to go and no hope of accomplishing this job, you and Hina decide to fight your way out. 

  And in the heat of the battle, Hina gets injured. 

  You wade through countless bodies, one arm defending the two of you and the other half-carrying Hina. Blood sprays in the air, and your vision is painted red, but you keep going. You have no choice if you want to live. You try not to aim at the most vulnerable spots, and instead, you aim low at their legs or choose to slam the flat of your blade against their heads and swoop them off their feet. You are not free of injuries either, as you feel the debilitating stings of the blade slicing against your arm and your side. 

  “I’m sorry,” Hina whispers as the two of you leave a wake of injured men behind you. 

  You trudge ahead, not wasting time to put a huge distance between you and the gang of men. 

“Hina,” you tell her. “You better not die on me.” 

  Hina murmurs your name with a smile. “To fight with you is an honor, Y/n.” 

  You glance at the woman leaning heavily on your shoulder. Half of her body is completely soaked in blood. “Don’t say that. What happened to referring to me as the Man-Killer?” 

  “My family lives in the forest at the very south of the Earth country,” Hina says, her voice becoming weaker and weaker. “Please protect them and help them get through the winter.” 

  “Hina,” you say. “Don’t tell me this.” 

  “You’re just human, you know. You don’t deserve every bad thing out there.”

  “Hina,” you plead. “Shut up.” 

  “Sorry for your arm…” Hina murmurs.

The buzz of energy you feel that makes your blood pump leaves you, making you feel sluggish. Hina is now leaning her weight on you fully, and you know that the two of you cannot travel far like this, so you settle her down against a tree and you check her injuries. 

  Blood covers your hands like a pair of gloves, but you do not shrink away in fear or disgust. You do your best to take care of Hina, refusing to look her in the face. The moonlight shines between the spaces of the trees, illuminating her pale skin and her blood-soaked clothes. 

“Hina,” you whisper fearfully. 

  You do not get another response. 

You fall to your ass on the ground, feeling defeated. You rest your elbows on your knees, and you stare at Hina, feeling empty. After a minute, you make yourself reach for Hina’s hand, and you hold it, until the warmth from her body fades away. You let her know, as she leaves her body, that you are there for her and that she was not alone. 

  Then, before the sun rises, you do your best to clean her up, wiping away the blood from her face and arms, and you cover her with your own garment. You make her a grave, even though your body is tired and in pain. 

  When morning comes, you have her knife strapped with your swords, and you head towards the direction of her home. 

--

The trip takes almost two months, and in those months, you practice travelling through trees using your chakra to propel yourself from one branch to the next. You get tired, and you require long rests, but towards the end, you feel yourself getting stronger and more aware of your power. You pass many towns, luscious forests and dry deserts until you are in another country, taking extra care to watch your back. 

  It takes another two weeks until you find Hina’s family, and you find them in the old Hina fashion, with one of her siblings sticking a knife on your back. You disarm her younger brother easily enough, but the youngest sibling is on a tree branch above you, aiming an arrow to your head. 

“I come in peace,” you announce, immediately raising your hands and dropping the boy’s knife. “Hina sent me.”

  “Where is our sister?” 

  “I have her knife. She died from a job,” you tell them. 

  The girl glares at you. “Did the famed ningen satsujin-sha get her?”

You swallow nervously. “No.” The guilt swallows you, even though your hand did not strike her down.

  “Are you her friend?” 

  You try to think if the short time you spend with Hina can be called friendship. “No.” You decide.

The girl fires her arrow, and you quickly dodge it. You glance back to see where the arrow hits and you narrow your eyes. If you were a little slower, she could have gotten your eye. 

“Good shot,” you compliment. “Your sister told me to help you for the coming winter. You do not need to trust me, but I can help you. Her last words were focused on you.” 

  The girl eyes you suspiciously, and despite the grim situation, you break out into an uneasy grin. The shape of her face reminds you of Hina. 

“I promise I’ll get out of your hair soon enough. I just want to make good on my promise to Hina. I am of your service for as long as you see fit.” 

--

You end up staying with them for a year and a half. You help Hina’s family with hunting and house repairs. When the hunting is fruitful, you help the kids barter for money and other goods through skinned fur and meat that will help them prepare for the seasons. You also teach the kids how to fight, just in case they need to defend themselves. You help chop down firewood and you also fashion two bokkens for Hina’s siblings, and you promise to teach them swordfighting during the summer.

  Through Hina’s family, you learn a thing or two about forgiveness and compassion. 

  Hina’s parents hated you the moment they saw you. They blame you for their daughter’s death. Harsh words usually bounce off of you and in fact, you feed on harsh words because you have an arsenal of your own. Though this time, you choose to ignore their harsh words and practice your tact. Though there are other places you could be, you choose to plant your feet and follow Hina's dying wishes, and that means ensuring that they can live through the fast-approaching winter. 

When the harsh winter passes, Hina’s mother gives you a scarf and serves you a bowl of hot soup. Hina’s father offers you their couch to crash on and asks if you could stay with them a bit longer, and look out for their kids. 

  You could be in other places to pursue your own salvation, but instead, you choose Hina’s family to make it right with. 

  After the next winter and spring, you leave them, and you head towards Konoha, towards home. 

  You were not able to erase the bounty over your head, but helping Hina’s family, that finally felt like atonement. It finally felt like your actions are starting to mean more than just fighting and looking out for your own life. 

  You did not get all the answers you are looking for, but for now, you feel like you are finally on the right track. 

You take a deep breath, and look the Hokage in his eyes. It is completely nightfall, and Hashirama has lit a few candles to make the room brighter. You observe his misty eyes and you chuckle to yourself, because despite your absence, nothing has changed. 

 “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through,” Hashirama begins, but he does not say anything more, letting a pregnant silence dawn between the two of you. 

“You do not have to worry about the bounty over your head,” Hashirama finally says as he settles on his chair again. 

 Your gaze snaps to Hashirama’s face, on full alert. 

“How come?” 

 Hashirama smiles, and he looks giddy. “My brother pleaded for your case and did some negotiations while you were gone. It is erased. You are free.”

Your jaw drops open in shock. “What?” 

 Hashirama smiles softly. “You know he feels really bad for what he did to you.” 

 “I knew it,” you whisper in disbelief. 

Hashirama sighs and he taps his chin. “I know you might hate him, and I am not excusing what he did! He is wrong for that. He is so wrong.”

 You chuckle and you let out an exasperated sigh. 

 “My brother and I have countless enemies,” Hashirama explains and he meets your eyes seriously. “You have your own burden to carry and he did not want to add any more by associating your name with his. He wants you to be free and not be tied down by the village to do what you need to do.” 

 The urge to look for Tobirama and punch him grows stronger. You have forgiven him long ago, but Tobirama seems to have forgotten that communication exists. If he just told you this in the first place, then you wouldn’t have spent the last two years cursing his name in your mind and making you think that he is a horrible person. 

“Well, I do hope that you catch him soon so that the two of you can talk,” Hashirama emphasizes the last word. “Knowing my brother, it will take years for him to admit anything true to himself, but he is kind, I can promise you that.” 

You let out a laugh, and warmth spreads across your chest. You shake your head with disbelief, and the excitement you feel makes you want to run through the streets of Konoha in joy. 

“I will let him know that you are back,” Hashirama promises. He smiles fondly at you. “And Madara has been waiting for your return.”

 The mention of your friend makes you start for the door. You can hardly wait to see Madara again. It has been too long. You think you may start crying just thinking of him. 

“Lord Hashirama, thank you,” you tell the Hokage sincerely, with all of your heart. 

You mean it, and with the bounty lifted and your heart set on the right path, you feel like you have taken a breath of fresh air. You can finally make your new start here, in Konohagakure.

 You are free. 

.

.

.

[CHAPTER ELEVEN >>>]

[anika-ann]

um, hi👉👈so, i think that you’re the absolute queen of fluff, i melt everytime i read any of your fics, but my favorite must be Grease and Pearls (Attached is close behind and like, all of your fics, really)...Grease and Pearls is so soft and I just can’t with those two...the way Steve would bend over backwards to make and keep reader happy🥺like, I can feel he’d do everything what her heart desires and vise versa (they both left everything behind just so they could be together after all)..and, well, because of my love for this lovestory, i was wondering if you would consider revisit them?🥺i know it’s a lot to ask, but i’m dying to know what their life’s like now...did Steve open his shop? did he try being a street sketcher (or sth like that lol idk the term) and then get an opportunity to go to art school after all? and what about reader? did she become a teacher? a tutor? a waitress?? or something completely different? what about her relationship with Nat? did she take her under her wing? and what about her dream about having babies?🥺did she talk to Steve about it? was she shy to bring it up? scared even? or did Pietro’s words to Steve about having babies didn’t leave his mind and it was Steve who asked first if she wanted to have family with him??? i am so so sorry to bother you with this but as I said, i adore this story and i never get bored rereading it for the n-th time..and i don’t mean to pressure you, but it would make me like the happiest person if you could reveal how their life continued🥺but i understand if you don’t want to, you can ignore this message and i won’t be mad, promise... i love you and your stories, Ann!❤️

Uhm.... hi? 🥺  

This is such a sweet ask I can’t😭

This is NOT a bother at all. This is one of the nicest asks about a continuation of a fic I’ve ever seen

I’m delighted to hear that you’re enjyoing my stories! Hopefully the fluff is making your days better 🥰 Because you made like ym whole week 🥰🥺

And my, my, Grease and Pearls... it feels so long ago! Which is one of the reasons why I don’t think I will write more (also because there was never supposed to be a happy ending in the first place 😅). But. I LOVED writing it and Steve was the sweetest whenever it came to his updown girl and she did leave everything behind for him and-- you got me thinking.

So. My messy thoughts (IS THIS A HEADCANON):

warning: brief mention of smut

Love is great and all that and they fell really hard and fast for each other– they DID leave together after all.

But it isn’t exactly easy. She doesn’t have any experience with being a tutor and has no name in the area, no recommendations, which is why I believe she wouldn’t find the job she truly wants, so she would settle for the waitressing instead, supportive of Steve.

Steve obviously can’t open a shop right away, he too needs to save money for them, so he just finds another shop to work at, postponing his dreams – both art school ones and shop ones.

He however hates that she works as a waitress. It’s not that she can’t handle work – it’s the company she has to keep, the customers. His sweet girl doesn’t deserve assholes pawing at her, even if she’s always polite about it. He almost starts a fight right there when he comes in one day and notices some jerk trying to touch her ass. She deserves so much more. So he takes extra shifts. They are barely together at that point.

Natasha notices, because it’s hard not to. And frankly, she gives Steve a piece of her mind, because Steve’s girl doesn’t know what is happening between them too scared to address it, too scared Steve would walk away.

Natasha confronts Steve, while he has no idea she’s in the other room and he practically yells at her that he’s just doing it for his fiancé, because he hates what she has to deal with every day. The look on horror on his face when his fiancé walks out of the room is priceless – but more importantly, the two lovebirds are able to talk it out and Natasha clears the space, knowing for sure there’s be some make-up smooching. She’s right.

But. Their story so far had a happy ending and it does come when on a random afternoon, a nicely dressed girl around 13 walks into the diner, instantly caching everyone’s attention. And Steve’s girl worries about what the hell is a kid like her (she’s certainly seeing a lot of herself, this girl is very uptown), so she takes her under her wing and chats with her and actually tells her some fun facts she knows from when she had her private tutors and---

The next day the girl is back. With her mother.  

“My daughter says you were the only person who ever made boring facts fun. And that you’re incredibly smart. Are you? Because if you are, I’d like to hire you to be her private teacher.”

Yes, it sounds like a dream except that the mother is extremely arrogant about it, but—it works. Steve’s girl accepts the offer, the kid loves her and word gets around and she can leave the diner.

Steve might sport a little bit of hurt ego, because she makes more money than him, but he’s trying his best to be supportive – and it’s easy, because she never lets him feel like he’s something less and what’s his is hers. He stays working in the shop for a while, working on a secret project on side.

The day of their two-year anniversary, she hands him a voucher for evening lessons for drawing. He hands her the key to a little appartement he found, cheap and in need of reconstruction, which he has started working on with some of his friends from the shop. Their own space.

They both cry. A lot. And they totally christen the floor of the apartment the very same night. Unbeknownst to them, they make a child that night.

Do I need to say more?

Maybe Steve end up opening his own shop. Maybe he prefers loving on his girls, spending time with them, because tight money is better than having too little time on them. He loves teaching his little girl draw – then again, he adores her as much as he adores his wife.

And when baby two is on its way? He just knows that he’s the luckiest downtown guy to ever live.

I know it’s not tha same as if I wrote the fic, but I hope this will make you smile at least a bit 😊

Thank you so so much for reaching out so kindly and have a lovely day/night❤️✨

-

Grease and Pearls (S.R. x reader)

[vagrantblvrd]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Late-night and also half-assed AU idea times?

The one where Luke gets sent back in time (Because Reasons) to Clone Wars era shenanigans.

Also Because Reasons Obi-Wan is put in charge of keeping an eye on this kid, idk, Biggs Antilles because everyone is so hapless in the Star Wars universe when under pressure, like seriously.

Anyway.

Obi-Wan is suspicious like a suspicious person and so is Anakin and Luke is kind of losing his mind because he never knew (suspected, but never had proof) that old Ben was a goddamned menace and all his lectures to Luke about same are like, wow, dude, wow.

Oh, and also his dad.

And Ahsoka?

And all the clones and everyone else and he’s like, ;____________________; at what could have been, you know?

But also not sure if he’ll ever get back to his time - he really hopes so because there’s this Mandalorian with an adorable kid - and oh, God, he needs to check on Grogu in this time stat, but yes.

Shenanigans in which Luke desperately tries to hide his real identity because everyone’s iike “He feels like Anakin,how strange, and Luke in the corner like “Hahaha, yes, STRANGE. :DDDDDD

And then adventures in which he ends up having to save Obi-Wan more than he ever expected to when he woke up twenty-something years in the past, and oh dear God is that his mom? (Leia looks so much like her. Mostly the angry part right now, because Anakin and recklessly endangering his life and uh, oops, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop???

But like. Luke is kind of bleeding again (he,too, recklessly endangered his life alongside his father and Obi-Wan) and thought medbay was this way and -

Wait, why are you looking at him like that?

Anaking and Padme worried Luke’s going to at them out to, idk, the Jedi council or whatever about their ~forbidden love, and Luke is just.

“What.”

So then the thing about attachments and how they’re bad because emotions is explained to him and Luke looks at his father who clearly loves his mother so much. Thinks about the nonsense about attachment and how scared it would make someone like Anakin, and Obi-Wan -

Luke loves him, but the man’s made mistakes. (And, like. Luke gets it, he does. Some adventure with Obi-Wan and sharing of past loves because they weren’t sure they’d make it out alive and why not share this thing with someone kind of friend-shaped, and anyway,)

Luke is like, okay, wow.

Because one, the thing about attachments is bullshit - show him one Jedi master who isn’t attached to their padawan for starters - and anyway.

Not his business who they love, an then he scurries off to medbay before he bleeds out in hallway or wherever, which is where Obi-Wan finds him and is like  >:((((( at the bleeding thing and :| about the attachment thing but also *SIGH* because Luke reminds him of this padawan he had once, what was his name???

Anyway.

Yes

Also, though, also.

Them taking Luke to Coruscant to meet with the Jedi council because they have no idea where he came from - Luke floated the possibility of time travel being real to Obi-Wan once, but as a hypothetical and really, never mind him - and anyway.

Luke being like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ as they ~question (interrogate) him because he has read up on the Jedi Order and their rules and whatnot. And where he might have been in awe of getting to meet all these Jedi masters once, now he just feels. Pity. He feels pity for them.

It shows, a little, and they call it arrogance for someone so young to think they know better than the entirety of the Jedi council and yet?

Luke doesn’t care.

Which kind of makes him a threat in their eyes, this incredibly powerful Jedi who appeared out of nowhere and shows so little - if any, really - respect for their Order.

And, they realize, who both Obi-Wan and Anakin like.

Ahsoka too, but she’s a padawan, young and such, doesn’t know better.

But also, also, after all the fun-times had with the Jedi council Luke walks out to find Palpatine talking to his father and his mother while Obi-Wan stands by and chips in with a comment or observation every so often and he is like !!! because he never expected this???

Somehow after hearing stories from people, he just. Didn’t expect the fall of the old Jedi Order to take place in a tastefully appointed waiting area, potted plants and chairs and such Maybe one of those little fountains you see in an office sometime for the soothing sound of moving water and whatnot.

Anyway.

Maybe it’s his own personal experience with the man in the throne room on the second Death Star with the dramatic lighting and so on, but it’s a wee bit jarring.

He has one of those “episodes” as the others call them, and gets hustled out of there posthaste while Palpatine is all, “Oh, dear, I do hope he feels better,” and Luke does all the meditating exercises so as not to blurt out that hey, so, that sith lord everyone’s trying to find? RIGHT THERE.

Because lack of evidence and such.

And it’s like.

After seeing what things were like, he’s just. He’s stuck here, probably, right? So. Maybe he can fix things, even a little.

(Right the wrongs that Palpatine wrought and so on.)

And while he’s doing that it occurs to him that Din, okay, Din is alive in this time. And he told Luke about the attack that killed his parents, about being rescued by Mandalorians, and is like.

Can he change that too? Should he? Searches everything he can only to realize he’s too late to do anything about it. That the attack happened before Luke arrived in this time and he has this.

This little breakdown in a library or some such somewhere, because all that fretting and whatnot he did about whether or not he should intervene was for nothing, a moot point because he was too late, and it’s like.

Existential crisis time because if he changes things more than he has, will he even exists in the future? Will Leia?

Will any of their friends exist, and on his way back to the quarters he’s been given he runs into Padme - perhaps sneaking out from visiting Anakin - and she’s surprised to see him, maybe a little worried too.

(She knows his views on the whole attachment thing, yes, but her and Anakin have kept their relationship a secret for a long time now and old habits)

Still, she notices he’s obviously not doing well and they talk for a bit, Luke asking her a hypothetical, like if she could go back in time to  change something to save someone she loved from suffering, would she?

And of course she is like. No, because doing so negates their choices and how would it affect others and so on?

Luke is just, right, of course.

But then she goes on and says, as a person, not a politician, a leader, she absolutely would.

Luke is like, oh, because of course that makes sense, doesn’t it.

Good of the many and so on and anyway.

He goes to his quarters and thinks on it for a bit and realizes, yes okay, the thing with Din was mostly selfish - he wants to say he wouldn’t have done it, but he still doesn’t know  - but Palpatine, okay, Palpatine.

How many million, billions, maybe more, lives was he responsible for? (Luke has his own count for the dead, and monstrously high it may be, but Palpatine is at the heart of all of it.)

So.

He he starts laying the groundwork to expose Palpatine, or maybe just build up, idk, say a Rebel Alliance to oppose him - and discovers that oh, would you look at that.

Because Padme and Bail and their closet conspirators who know something is coming, that Palpatine is surely part of it, but they don’t know the full scope of things.

And honestly, even Luke doesn’t, but.

They think he’s a spy or whatever, and there are all these shenanigans in the meantime, and Luke doing what he can to prove that he’s really on their side, and anyway, anyway.

He plants seeds here and there, everything Leia taight him, everything he picked up, and goes to Obi-Wan for help because his former master and watchdog, and anyway.

Before Luke gets to see if anything he’s done in the past pays off he gets booted back to his time.

Or a version of it.

Ripped back to his time and this moment where he’s sure he’s dead - in the middle of a space battle or collapsing temple somewhere and glowy doohickey, something like that, or, okay, Palpatine trying to kill hi again for the first time - and anyway.

Super disorienting.

Especially when he opens his eyes and Obi-Wan is there along with his father and is that Ahsoka?

But, like.

Older.

Also, though, Din.

And Grogu and Luke is very confused?

But there’s no time for that, as Padme and Leia run in and tell them the Imperials found them, did you get him? Yes, oh, good, and now with the running???

In which they do the running to a familiar ship Luke knows well, and also a few others he likewise knows, and anyway.

They escape just in time because an Imperial fleet was looking for them, and anyway.

Luke is super confused, but that’s okay because exposition time in which he finds out all those seeds he planted worked.

Palpatine was exposed, but didn’t matter because he had contingency plans, you know?

Order 66 never went into effect because someone - Obi-wan was prompted to go back to Kamino and ask after the clones, any...special features that may have been added and anyway.

Palpatine never got his clone army, but he made up for it with battle droids and conscripts and the Empire didn’t win? But neither did the Alliance.

Not yet, anyway, and they’ve been fighting for years at that point. No Death Star - at least not a completed one - and anyway, yes.

Alderaan’s still there, Leia doesn’t have to pretend she can see it in the night sky, and anyway.

A lot has changed but so much is still the same, and everyone, okay, everyone thinks Luke an idiot.

(They’re also not surprised by that, because Skywalker, but yes.)

This whole thing of Luke’s original memories clashing with this new timeline - he keeps his old ones, but it makes for a confusing time, you know? Some point where Luke gets this faraway look and turns to someone - maybe they were dead in that original timeline - and tells them how different everything is.

If they’re feeling brave enough, and honestly most people in Luke’s life are that brave, they ask what he was thinking about to get that look on his face and he’ll tell them about terrible future that didn’t come to pass.

One he feels a little guilty for missing sometimes because those other versions of the people he knew, loved, are gone and he’s the only one who remembers them? But then he’ll see one of them, or someone who was dead in that other timeline and realizes it’s not as simple as that.

Looks at the life he knew before and the one he’s learning now and can’t decide if what he did was the right thing?

But then he’ll catch his parents on a balcony somewhere lost in on another’s eyes and these soft smiles and the love between them that’s grown over the years. Or see Obi-Wan walking about with Cody, and soft smiles and quiet laughter and hundred dozen little moments like that and thinks, selfishly, he doesn’t truly regret it if these people he’s come to love get something like that, you know?

And, then, of course, then Din finds him, or maybe Luke goes back to their quarters on whatever ship or base they’re at then, and he’ll be waiting for him.

They were on the cusp of something when Luke got thrown back in time, but things changed once he got back.

Slow, awkward, because different timelines and experiences, but something new and good, and anyway, anyway.

Din’s there and Luke is being a little (lot) selfish in wanting to keep whatever the two of them are building between them, and Din seems to want the same, and anyway.

Yes????

[goldenlaquer]

Hi ! Can I request you a rival to lovers short story/ One shot with Sougo please 🥺 ?

In which boys tease the girls they like by setting them on fire. 

AHHH SORRY FOR THE WAIT.

Who Runs the World? Sadists. (Okita Sougo One-shot): 

He is handsome, that much you can admit.

But you also think appreciating aesthetic beauty can be compartmentalized. It is something you can notice, and store in a box to shove in the darkest recesses of your mind, and then think nothing further about the person other than how much you’d like to run over him with an eighteen-wheeler.

So, here is how it is:

Out of context, he is handsome.

In context, he is the most trying, insensitive, sadistic, arrogant, lying dickwad to haunt the face of the Earth and your general vicinity.

You say the second part of this to him whilst kicking the back of his knees (something he very much deserved after slicing the top of your ice cream right off the cone), and he effortlessly dodges and grabs your hair to plant your face against the nearest streetlamp.

When you peel your face off with blood and vengeance dripping off your face, there is a smug smile on his face.

And you are further angered by how, even against the orange-yellow lights of the streetlamp and the darkness of the fading sky, that ugly, infuriating smile does not diminish the prettiness of his face.

And then you are even angrier for even noticing this.

Aesthetic beauty can be compartmentalized. You just aren’t very good at it.

—

You tell him that you wish that he’d fuck off. But only after reimbursing your ice cream.

He tells you to stop thinking about fucking him. And also that you should be thanking him for saving you the trouble of having to buy another gym subscription that you’ll never use again after the first visit.

Again, he dodges the kick, this time aimed at his balls.

—

You sometimes forget that he is in the police force. A fact that makes you shudder for society.

After long moments of name-calling and low blows to genital areas, he tucks his hands into the pockets of his uniform and strides away, no doubt bored of making fun of your existence.

Stop being a nuisance and get off the streets at night, he calls over his shoulder in monotone. He’d have nothing to do if you scared off all the thieves and rapists with your nasty breath smogging up the air.

You are left behind with a soggy waffle cone in your grip. If you didn’t know better, it sounded as if he cared.

—

The universe is playing a cruel and extremely hilarious joke on you.

Because everywhere you go, he is there.

You take a discreet whiff of yourself. Is there something in your perfume that attracts cockroaches?

He is there at the grocery store. Reaching for the last carton of milk at the same time as you do. He refuses to let go, silently staring at you with his red eyes to give up. You sure as hell won’t. You hold on tight and tug. He tugs back. You use two hands and heave. He lets go of the carton and you fly.

At the library. Perusing a manga when you stumble across him. And you would have turned right back around, but the seat across from him just so happens to be the only open one in the entire building. So you mentally curse the other people for educating themselves and suck it up, gingerly placing your tush on the edge of the chair, afraid of the very possible reality of him placing something there that could send you to the hospital. For the most part, the interaction is harmless, the both of you ignore each other until he yawns, loudly, and you glare at him for the rudeness, and he smirks (a warning sign) and proceeds to full-on whine your name out in a high-pitched voice, in the middle of studying students. You and him are kicked out by a buff onee-san with a month-long ban for public indecency despite your many attempts to tell her that you did not touch him, especially like that. Hot blood pools in your cheeks. For two reasons.

Even at the little goldmine of a ramen eatery you have miraculously discovered by sheer luck. Its location is isolated from the usual Edo traffic, hidden in a tiny dingy alley, but their bowls are little pieces of heaven: charred chashu slices that melt across the tongue in smokey savoriness, thin hand-made noodles that have just the right give and firmness, a golden broth that does not taste greasy or heavy and sucker-punches you across the face with umami. This eatery you have found is a safe haven, or so you think until you walk in and see Okita Sougo, schlurping up the last of his noodles and holding up his bowl to ask for seconds.

How is it that you can barely step out the front door of your home without seeing him? Doesn't he have a job? How can one person have so much free time?

(Somewhere, Hijikata is howling his first name.)

—

Once again, the universe makes sure that the only available seat is next to him.

You sit. He comments about how he’s flattered but he’s going to get a restraining order if this continues. You say bullshit, bullcrap, bulldiarrhea— if anyone’s stalking anyone it would be him, creep. He says that he’s not stalking you, he’s making sure that you don’t commit any crimes, and you say, quietly:

So you are following me?

He replaces his reply with an obnoxious noodle slurp. It is all the answer you need.

—

He is not there for two weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks of no sadists. Two weeks of no arguments and fighting. Two weeks of jumping for joy. Two weeks of jumping at shadows. Two weeks of silence. Two weeks of looking at ramen and thinking ‘ah, he’s not here’. Two whole weeks of no Okita Sougo.

You feel… awkward.

Except, awkward is not the word. Ridiculous. Absolutely preposterous. The word is alleviated, instead.

You are alleviated.

You think about the reason for this sudden change. You wonder if he is avoiding you. If so, It must have been back at the ramen place where you last saw him. Something he had said and something you had said.

Something revelatory.

Or he had become truly bored with you and moved on to another toy to play with.

You’re not sure which one leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

—

You see him again in the middle of the third week.

You are walking late at night, when you hear,

What did I tell you? Stop walking so late at night. You’re infecting everyone with your dumb braincells, moron.

You like to think that the only emotion on your face when you slowly turn to him is cool indifference, and you tell him that you don’t speak to stalkers.

Without missing a beat, he says, who would want to stalk such an ugly woman like you?

He pushes off the streetlamp he is leaning against and stalks towards you, long legs carrying him swiftly to stand in front of you. The orange- yellow lights reflect off brown, and long lashes lowers down on red as he looks at you with an expression that kinda makes you lose your breath.

You skin itches and something bubbles up inside you that wants to break free from your mouth.

Shut up. You tell yourself. Don’t say anything.

Where were you for the last two weeks?

Damn it.

Long lashes blink and pink lips slowly curve. Miss me?

No. Not. At. All. You were doing fantastic without him there to ruin everything. You just wanted to know so that you could send condolence flowers to the person he’s bothering now.

Well, you’re out of luck, he says, there was never anyone else.

Your toes curl.

So that means, he continues, I’ll be making your life miserable for a while longer.

You disguise your smile with a glare. Stalker.

Like I said, who would stalk such an ugly woman?

You start walking in the direction of your home. He follows next to you, shoulder and forearms of his jacket brushing against yours. You, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

No, you.

If I’m an idiot, then you are super idiot.

You’re mega idiot.

You’re infinite idiot.

That doesn’t make sense, idiot.

Only because you’re an idiot, idiot. 

----

Little note: Sougo was gone for two weeks, because surprise surprise, he was on a mission for Shinsengumi and I just couldn’t really slide this tidbit in. Not that it’s really important in the grand scheme of things.

[planetary-runaway]

Son

“W-will?” came a quiet, disbelieving voice, echoing from behind the newly revived ex-president, making him spin on his heel, already pasting a bright smile onto his face, as had become his custom interacting with anyone since he gained the white streak belying how truly old he was. “Oh! Fundy!” he positively beamed, though his eyes were too sharp, his teeth too white to have given anyone a sense of ease, especially as he held his arms out in front of him as if presenting the fox hybrid to his companion. “Look, Tommy! It’s Fundy.” He certainly wasn’t being genuine, all three of those present could hear the mocking remnants of a much friendlier ghost lingering in the higher pitches, and, judging by the snide curl of his lip as he continued, Will knew exactly what he was doing. “What can I do for you? Just a house call?”

Hackles raising as Wilbur stepped forward, Fundy stumbled back a little, and shoved a piece of paper into his pocket, eyeing Tommy warily, seeing as though he was hunched, staring at the grass of his lawn, with his hands in his pockets, just letting this happen. “N-No, it’s fine, I just... I was just going to ask Tommy something, but- but I'll come back later. Yeah, I'm sure it can wait.” he stammered out an excuse, trying to back off, back onto the prime path, where he could turn tail, but Wilbur merely waved it aside dismissively. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure Toms would be happy to help.” he smiled, pinning the hybrid with a strangely, unfamiliar clear gaze, as he comfortably threw an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. He didn’t seem to notice as the teen stumbled numbly, not once looking up from the small purple flower blooming from his lawn, letting Will move him about as if he was naught but a ragdoll, though Fundy bristled at the comfortable, familial gesture, grinding his teeth.

“Yeah... sure.” Tommy spoke hollowly, the movement having made a militarily cropped piece of his hair catch the light, white as bone, standing out starkly against the spun gold of the rest of his rumpled hair. Even from the other end of the lawn, Fundy could see how weary he was, how the dark circles had multiplied as if branding themselves onto his skin permanently, like they were weighing his shoulders down. He looked so small next to the still-beaming Wilbur, so different from the larger-than-life character Fundy had known from his childhood. It was disconcerting, but still, he forced his feet to move forward, toward the duo, feeling as his too-big boots slid on the cropped grass, and set his jaw. Completely blanking the taller, Fundy quickly addressed Tommy, not wanting to spend any longer in Will’s presence than he had to, let alone within arm’s reach. “I- Do you have any spare iron? Niki needs to rebuild her beacon.”

It wasn’t the politest or most successful of conversations, but, as Tommy raised a cracked, bruised hand, and pointed back into the house, Fundy could have sworn he saw a flicker of surprise come over Wilbur’s face. A gentle head bow, and murmured thanks later, Fundy was passing through into the small dirt house- if it could even be called that- and rummaging through the assorted junk in Tommy’s chests, not organised in the slightest sense. They look like they had been ransacked recently, not a single piece of stone seeming to have lodged in a corner somewhere, forgotten. But, before he could think to question it, sure Tommy would have had at least some, Fundy’s hands brushed the smooth coolness of a few blocks of iron, sandwiched between two completely unrelated things, and his mind was sent on a completely different line of thought.

Yanking it out, he was surprised to see there was more than he thought, even if he did send a few dented buckets and an old, ragged leash flying in the movement. Still, he did have some level of decency, sure that if Tommy had this much iron, he must have had a need for it. So, as much as he wanted to take the whole stack, Fundy had some decency, slipping half into his pack for later, and carefully stowing the rest back into the chest in a much less dangerous pile, for... whatever the teen would need it for. It was a joke around the area that, often, very little in these chests was Tommy’s so, while he was sure somebody would currently be hunting, very confused, for their materials, there was also an unspoken knowledge between everyone that Tommy never took anything that would leave people really wanting, and, maybe...7 times out of 10, he would give it back after a while anyway.

Chuckling to himself as he latched the chest closed again, and prepared to stand back up from the cool, dirt floor, Fundy almost missed the tell-tale rumble of Wilbur starting to raise his voice from outside, where he had stayed with Tommy, basking in the sun as if it seemed to spotlight him alone. Gasping in a breath to hold, a faded memory coming back to him of long nights spent sleeplessly in the tall grass of a walled community, of hearing raised voices and incensed footsteps from inside his father’s office, Fundy forced himself to his feet, ignoring how his knees protested and wobbled, padding as silently as he was able over to the door to peek outside.

It wasn’t a fun sight to behold, either, Wilbur having taken Tommy by the shoulder as he spoke, a manic look in his eyes as he gestured wildly with his free arm, to the neighbourhood around them, to the sky, and the ground, and even to the house, though neither saw Fundy, him having ducked out of sight just in time. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, both of them knowing he was there, but, in the split second he had to react, it had felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want to look back out there, so, instead, he leant his heaving back against the soft dirt wall, feeling the chill soak through his jacket and thin shirt, a small relief to his skin, and listened instead.

“Listen Tommy! This? This will be our legacy! If we can do this...” he broke off into laughter, so hauntingly familiar that it made Fundy’s heart ache to hear, almost being able to imagine a million different Wilburs, arms spread wide, face tilted to the sky. “When we do this, we’ll be saints! Nobody will be able to touch us again! We'll be gods, Tommy!” he spoke quickly, as if he was afraid that, if he didn’t get all his words out right that second, he would never get a chance to say them again, but like he didn’t care what it was that he said. “We will be... Tommy, we’ll be unstoppable!” It sounded more like a monologue to Fundy, who, straining his ears, only just heard Tommy’s mumbled reply, apathetic and weary as he sighed. “Yeah... gods.” He echoed, sounding decades older to the young fox, so used to the blonde spitfire throwing curses and rebuttals about like water, or at least swallowing back the more offensive things when warned. But right now, he just sounded defeated, like he had nothing left. And really, he didn’t, he didn’t even get to die in peace, so why should he be enthusiastic, knowing he would just be kept going indefinitely. It was a common source of outrage about the entire nation, that whatever had happened after Doomsday had broken their dear Tommy, though nobody knew much more than that he had lost a life, the news not having become popular, understandably.

“And you, Toms!” Will continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything, followed by a loud rustling and stumbling steps. “You will be my right-hand man, all over again! This time we will win, my boy and I!” The iron suddenly felt ten times heavier, in Fundy’s pack, and in his stomach, a sick, sinking feeling washing over him. He couldn’t have just said that, right? He didn’t mean it, surely. But still, no amount of lying to himself could stop as he spun, flinging the door open angrily. “And what am I, Wilbur?” he snapped, teeth bared as he stood, haloed with darkness from the dim house, in the doorway, regarding the pair with poorly veiled disdain. “What role do I play? Gunna leave me alone again? Leave me behind?” Jealousy was rising, hot and thick, in his throat as he spoke, raging like a monster and driving him to step forward, stalking toward Will, who had the audacity to still hold an arrogant smirk on his face. “Ah, Fundy. So nice to see you’re still here.” he spoke smoothly, clasping his hands before himself like a housewife as he saw the sharp claws starting to peek out from around the fingerless gloves the hybrid always wore.

“Answer the question. What am I to you, Wilbur.” he spoke lowly, almost a growl, slowly shifting into a fighting stance at the infuriatingly serene position Will held, faintly noticing he had shed his heavy coat at some point in his ravings, leaving him in just his achingly familiar linen shirt and pants. “Well... you’re Fundy.” One hand went out in a mockery of a placating gesture, nestling in Fundy’s hair and ruffling it up, before being quickly snatched back as Fundy snapped angrily at it, missing by less than a centimetre. “Well done, you know my name.” he snarled back, eyes lightening, blink by blink, from their usual dormant brown to a much angrier, more feral gold as he hunched fully into a fighting stance, the rage reaching a peak. “How about family? I’m your son.” the words lashed out like a whip, ripping his throat up as they spilled out, and stupidly making his voice crack. “I’m your son” he repeated, quieter this time, slashing out blindly as Wilbur’s hand came close again. “Don’t you dare touch me. You haven’t earnt the right.”

This time, he broke skin, he felt as the minor resistance buckled, and blood tickled the tips of his fingers, looking up to see a clear slash mark on the sleeve of the shirt, now being quickly dyed with the type of morbid crimson that only blood could be. Wilbur looked surprised, quickly pulling the entire sleeve off to bandage it, before holding his arm to himself, an action performed in entire, three-way silence. Fundy had watched, tight lipped, at the familiar sight of blood, not able to find it in himself to feel any kind of remorse for his actions, simply waiting for it to be over with.

“I see you found your spine. Your mother was always feisty too.” Wilbur commented slyly, seeing as Fundy’s heaving breath caught in his chest for a moment, not even flinching as a loud growl reverberated about the street afterward. “You have no right to talk about her like that. You made us soldiers, you made us fight your bloody wars in your name, and where were you when we needed you by our sides?” Fundy snarled, gesturing to the hunched figure of Tommy, right where he had been left when Will had stepped away, staring unseeingly at the floor, arms wrapped tight about his midsection. “You were off on your chaise longue, eating grapes and seducing Dream so you could blow us all up again, conveniently looking the other way when we called for you to be there.” he spat the words like they were acid, trying desperately to find at least one thing that scratched the perfect veneer Wilbur was putting up, even with his arm clamped to his chest like it was shattered. “But we were children. Will, I was a child.”

He couldn’t help the memories coming back, of chainmail that dragged on the floor when he walked, of the elusive smells of pastries being eclipsed by gunpowder, of babbling brooks turned into deathly still lakes by the craters left over, of playful laughter echoing through the air from around the foreboding office Fundy had barely seen the inside of, before they were all shushed and sheparded off to train for a war they shouldn’t have had to fight. “I was a kid that just wanted a dad. You were supposed to be there for me.” Tears started pricking at his eyes at this, and, determined not to give Wilbur the satisfaction of seeing it, he roughly shouldered past, clutching his pack and his jacket close. “You were supposed to be a father.” he couldn’t help but mumble as they diverged, Wilbur not bothering to put out an arm to stop him as he stepped from the cropped lawn back onto the smooth, familiar wood of the path.

“And you know what?” Fundy barked, turning back one last time, hating how the sun made a halo about Wilbur’s form, painting him as an angelic being, especially how it dappled through the folded wings just poking out from over his shoulders now he wasn’t wearing his heavy coat anymore. “I wish you stayed dead.” It didn’t even cause a quirked brow, Wilbur watching with some detached sort of amusement, as if it was naught but a show he was the sole audience for. Upending his pack, Fundy turned to Tommy, unsure if he was even able to hear him, but spoke again, quieter, softer. “Keep the iron, I'll find it somewhere else.” and, in time with the heavy clang of iron upon the path, a door, left open for far too long, finally locked in Fundy’s mind.

[kimistorm]

What's Going On? (Doctor Strange x Reader Part 11)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairing: Doctor Strange x fem! Reader Series: It’s all a Little Strange, Chapter 11 (Final) Masterlist “(f/n).” “Stephen?” you opened your eyes to see said man in front of you, and the world moving in reverse. “What’s going on?” “Reversing everything. We’ve got a second chance.” He told you eagerly. Beside you, Wong was jumping up to his feet. Stephen summoned the spell in front of Wong and Wong blinked in confusion as he noticed the world around him. “I’m breaking the laws of nature, I know.” “Well, don’t stop now.” Wong nodded as the damage around you returned to a fixed state. He then noticed you, “oh thank goodness you’re okay.” You looked at Wong in confusion, you didn’t recall anything harmful happening to you during the battle. “What? What happened?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Stephen interjected, “when the Sanctum is restored, they will attack again. We have to defend it.” “Come on!” Mordo called and the four of you ran towards the Sanctum. There was the sound of magic behind you and the four of you turned to see Kaecilius with his hands above him in the middle of a spell. “No!” you shouted and shot a fiery whip at him. It did nothing to help as he dropped to the ground and sent a shockwave out. The four of you yelled as you held your hands up to your face to block the dust but it was futile as you were thrown off your feet. There was the sound of magic again and the world stopped moving. Stephen fell on his hand and the spell stopped working. “Ugh.” You groaned. “Get up, Strange.” Mordo grunted as he struggled to his feet. You followed suit but had more trouble than either Mordo or Wong. “Get up and fight!” Your side was starting to hurt again, you assumed it was from getting thrown back, or from the battle. Mordo settled into a fighting stance while you and Wong wielded your relics, “we will finish this.” “Isn’t it beautiful?” Kaecilius murmured, “a world beyond time. Beyond death.” “Beyond time…” Stephen murmured and froze from getting up. “Stephen?” you looked at him in confusion, “Stephen!” he had a faraway look that made you suspect he had a crazy plan forming in his mind. “Listen, whatever you’re thinking, there’s another way. We’ll find it.” “Sorry (f/n).” He shook his head and flew up into the air towards Dormammu. “Stephen!” you screamed after him. At the same time, Mordo yelled “Strange!” “He’s gone.” Kaecilius taunted and you suddenly remembered that he was still here, “Stephen Strange has left to surrender to his power.” “No.” You shook your head, “he may be a bit arrogant and rude, but he wouldn’t do something like this.” He then descended behind Kaecilius in all his majestic glory. You gaped at this and turned to Wong and Mordo who looked just as confused. Kaecilius took notice of this and looked behind him to see Stephen. “What have you done?” he demanded. “I made a bargain.” Stephen replied simply. “What is this?” Kaecilius demanded as his hand started to warp and turn black. “Well, it’s, uh...it’s everything you ever wanted.” Kaecilius and his zealots screamed as they were taken up into the air to join Dormammu. “Eternal life as part of the One. You’re not going to like it.” Stephen chuckled. You, Wong, and Mordo walked to Stephen as you watched the three bodies writhe in the air. Stephen then summoned the spell and the green circle appeared in his hand again, with a look of deep concentration, he reversed time. The rest of you watched in awe as everything fixed itself. The building was rebuilt, the eerie blue and red light disappeared into the ground, everything became right again. Time started its passage again and the entire city became alive again. Everyone continued as if nothing had ever happened. Which, in their minds, nothing weird ever did happened. “I think he really should have stolen the whole book, because the warnings...the warnings come after the spells.” Stephen muttered. Wong suddenly burst into peals of gleeful laughter, and you, Mordo, and Stephen looked at him in concern, “oh, that’s funny.” “Oh my gosh you made him laugh,” you pulled Stephen’s

shoulder down to your height so you could whisper into his ear, “good job.” “We did it.” Stephen announced. “It was mostly you,” you pointed out. “Yes, we did it. By also violating the natural laws.” Mordo stalked away from your group angrily. “Look around you,” Stephen gestured to the surrounding area, “it’s over.” “You still think there will be no consequences, Strange?” Mordo turned to Stephen, “no price to pay?” he demanded, “we broke our rules, just like her.” He angrily pointed at Stephen, “the bill comes due. Always.” The three of you watched Mordo, “I will follow this path no longer.” He declared and stomped away through the streets full of life. “Yeah, it’s okay.” Stephen nodded and Mordo’s form disappeared in the sea of people. “You did it Stephen!” you cheered and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, “you truly are an amazing man.” “I thought you were angry at me.” He laughed as he returned the hug. “I think saving the world helps to make me not angry at you.” You cheekily replied. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes and time seemed to slow down as Stephen closed his eyes and leaned his head down. You stood up on your tiptoes to meet his half way and your lips crashed together into a kiss. “What was that about me being an egotistical arrogant prick?” he smiled. You gasped, “who told you that!” your conversation was interrupted by a cough and the two of you jumped apart as Wong awkwardly stood to the side. “I think we should be heading back to Kamar-Taj.” “Ah, right.” Both you and Stephen agreed. ✯✯✯ “Mordo was talking about a ‘her’?” you questioned Stephen as the two of you walked through the halls of Kamar-Taj, “said something about her breaking the rules?” “It’s nothing.” Stephen waved a hand in the air as if doing that would dismiss the topic. “Stephen.” You stopped walking and glared at him, “I want to know.” “He was talking about the Ancient One.” He sighed and returned to you, “she was using Dormammu’s power to live for centuries.” “Oh.” You didn’t know how to take in this information. It had occurred to you at one point that it was strange how old the Ancient One was, but you never really thought about it. “You’re not angry at her?” he asked in surprise. “I’m sure she had a reason to do what she did, plus, she never tried to destroy the world.” You laughed. “That’s true.” He agreed. You looked up at him and he looked like he had something more to say, “what is it?” “Wong was talking to me.” “Hey! You don’t have the Eye of Agamotto anymore!” you interrupted in surprise as you realized the gold pendant wasn’t hanging off his neck anymore. “Oh, sorry.” “Yeah, Wong was saying something about how I’ll be able to wear the Eye of Agamotto at some point, but until then I shouldn't walk the streets wearing an infinity stone? I’m not entirely sure what he means by that. Do you know anything about that?” “I’ve heard rumors, nothing concrete though.” “Anyways, uh, I might’ve accepted the role of the Master of the New York Sanctum.” He continued sheepishly. “Wow, that’s awesome.” “What I really wanted to ask you though, is do you want to be the Master with me? I know it’s not orthodox nor custom and such-” Stephen started to ramble but you gently cut him off. “Stephen,” you interrupted and he shut his mouth, “I have a job.” “Can’t you quit?” he asked, “stay with me, in this world. I know you love this world more than the normal world.” You laughed, “I’m not going to leave you. You know that. How long have I been a doctor and your mentor?” “I just, I’d feel better knowing you were in the Sanctum with me.” You pondered over it, “okay.” “What?” he looked surprised at how quickly you had taken up his idea. “Okay.” You repeated. “Awesome.” He smiled, “I’ve started compiling a watchlist of individuals and beings from other realms that may be a threat to this world.” “Please tell me Loki is on that list.” “How’d you know?” Stephen looked at you in confusion. “I watch the news silly.” You tapped his forehead teasingly, “let me settle my normal life first, then we can go tracking down Loki.” “I already have a

lead on him, his brother Thor, is here in New York. We could talk to him, and figure out-” You cut him off with a swift kiss on the lips, “let me get settled first, then you can tell me all of your crazy plans. Okay?” Stephen smiled, “alright. You won’t leave me?” “Not for the world,” you promised. @panhoeofmanyfandoms @daydreamer-in-training @marine-captain-deku @turkisherlockian @calsjack

[lilliannelson]

Maybe, Definitely

Summary: Reader is a long time guest at the Holmes’ Estate. They have been associated with the family for years. One conversation leads to a whole new outlook on the life they thought they knew.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Trigger Warning: Just fluff

A/N: Most definitely going to continue with a jump ahead in time. Let me know your thoughts!!

You had been staying at the Holmes’ Estate for a few weeks; a tradition that began 5 years before. You had entered society as a young lady and became acquainted with the youngest Holmes, Enola. To say you kept this tradition going for nothing more than the company of Enola and her elder brothers, was simply not at all truthful. While Mycroft made your blood boil more than you can count, and Enola being one of your best companions, your eyes always seemed to flitter towards Sherlock. He had many rungs to his social ladder but currently his consulting agency was thriving in the ever-crazy London Town. As intelligent as he is, he had rare moments of conversation with anyone other than his siblings. It seemed that he couldn’t be bothered by anyone else, which was a positive to the fact his business was blooming. He didn’t have to stay here all the time.

Right now, you’re walking about the large study of which held all of the best novels you could get your hands on in this day and age. You glance up and spot him. He’s tall, very tall. And he has the most gorgeous head of dark curls you have ever seen. You have been observing him from a far for a while. You couldn’t help but wonder what he would say next or if he would even give you the time of day.

‘There he is,’ you think, stopping yourself with the book you’re currently reading in hand looking out the large bay window to see him walking up the drive.

You blink and knock yourself out of the trance you were in. He may be opinionated and gorgeous, but you were better than that to drop yourself to his level. No man was ever worth it.

You continue to walk out the large French-style doors to the wooden swing that hung from your favorite tree in the side yard. The gardeners had done so well this year and the flowers that lined the path that led to your spot was exceptionally darling this time of year. Autumn was your favorite season, after all.

You sit on the swing and get lost in the book. Hours seem to have rolled by as the sun was on the brink of setting. You stretch and yawn as you suddenly realize your surroundings. You feel a set of eyes on your back. An intuition you’d grown to enjoy. You slowly swivel around to see him looking at you. You give him a shy smile and can see him capture his bottom lip with his teeth; a sort of kryptonite to you. As you stand, wiping off the front of you from some invisible outdoor dander, you walk towards him. He stands with his hands in his pockets. You suddenly feel the urge to run, but it subsides as you draw in closer to him.

“Hello,” his deep voice fills your ears.

“Hi,” you greet him back.

“I seem to always find you outside these days. What book are you reading?” You show him the book, a book of poems that he most likely has not read. “Never read that one.” ‘Ha, I knew it,’ you think.

“It’s good to switch up the type of writing sometimes.”

“Yes, it is.” His blue eyes keep your hazel ones, “Listen, I’m having dinner tonight, and I’d love it if you joined me.”

“What time?” Who were you and why were you accepting? Lowering yourself to his level was, again, something you didn’t want to do. But, it made sense to go to dinner with him, since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Your stomach rumbled as if on command.

“Right now, actually.” He grins, “Your stomach just gave you away.”

You match his grin, “It has. Shall I change?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t believe so. It’s just you and I.”

You feel a shade of pink flush your cheeks at the realization. But of course you knew it was just the two of you. His siblings and everyone else had already eaten. “Lead the way, then.”

——————————————————————————

You sit across from him at the large wooden dining room table. An extravagant floral arrangement was placed on the table prior to you two sitting down. He moves it over, allowing both of you to be able to meet eyes once more. He’d began to speak about a book he had read last week, and then the conversation moved to you.

“What would you like to know about me?” You take a dainty bite of the meal.

He sips his wine, “Everything.” You spot the grin he’s making behind his glass. This causes you to raise your eyebrow at him, looking down to your plate but also a small grin forms on your lips.

“I’m surprised you haven’t already come to one of your conclusions about me yet.” A little jab at him, but he pressed on.

“Where do you see yourself? The next 5 years?”

“That’s rather deep.”

“If you’d rather not answer, that’s quite alright. I can ask you something else.”

You grab the glass of wine, taking a big gulp before beginning, “Five years? Why not the next year?”

“Because it’s the most generic question people ask to get to know someone. And because I’m sure you have a list of ideas. I would love to hear your thoughts instead of coming to a conclusion.”

“Okay, well... I’ve been trying to read everything I can. I want to educate myself as much as possible. I want to write a book. I want to go to university and get a degree. I want to be a teacher. I-“ you stop when you meet his eyes. He’s so enamored by you in this moment.

“What kind of teacher?”

“English. I want to see a child’s eyes light up when they learn to read and understand the meanings of words and sentences. I used to play Headmistress when I was a child. I didn’t have any friends, but I made them up in my head. Probably why I am such an odd one nowadays.”

“You’re not odd. You’re intelligent. And any child would be lucky to have you as their teacher. Where are you planning on getting a degree?”

“Oxford. I know that it will be difficult to get into any program there, but I’m very certain I can do it. I am fully capable.”

“Yes, yes you are.” A silence falls over your conversation as you recollect all you said, and his eyes stay on you.

“Thank you,” you say in a small voice.

His eyebrows raise quizzically, “Whatever for?”

“For not making my want to teach seem like a death sentence.”

“Whoever has given you that idea?”

You look down to the table, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Oh, my uncle. And Mycroft.”

“Of course they have. I should’ve known.”

You shrug, “It’s the times we are living. I expect it most of the time. I can tune it out, it’s just tough sometimes.”

“If it helps any, Mycroft has always been that arrogant and self absorbed to the point he will do anything to raise his status.”

“It doesn’t, but thank you for trying.” You feel tears threatening to form in your eyes. After a beat, you blink them away, “How’s business in London?”

Sherlock frowns slightly, “It’s going. I’ve picked up quite a few new cases. Nothing too important yet, though.”

“I’m sure something will come up.”

“I hope so. I would hate to have to hang up the practice before its prime.”

“But it brings you joy. I have never seen someone so intricately indulge into their craft like you. I’m sure you’re the first one anyone at Scotland Yard thinks of when cases come in.” You look down bashfully when you see him gaping at you.

“I didn’t know you paid that much attention to me.” His grin exposes a dimple. He looks shy.

“You’re Sherlock Holmes. How is that possible?”

“When it comes to my personal life, I tend to refuse to sink into any inklings I may have. I’m much better at helping others, if that makes sense.”

You nod, “It does.”

“You pay this kind of attention to everyone else?”

“Only the ones that are intriguing to me.”

“And what about me is intriguing?” His voice is low.

“Your knowledge, your composure, your personality.” You take another gulp of your wine, calming down your growing pulse, “I like observing you in your natural habitat.”

“Why?”

“Because you act like you don’t have feelings, but it shows in the way you present yourself. The slight grin you get on your face when someone outsmarts you regarding something you were sure no one else could. The other day when Mycroft was sure to prove me wrong, and I told him off, you had this look on your face...” You quickly change your tone, “I will never not laugh at his reaction.”

Sherlock has leaned forward, as if having to prove he was paying attention to you, but his eyes are semi-glazed over as if lost in thought.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” That knocks him out of his daze.

“Did I say too much?”

“No, no. I don’t believe you said too much at all.”

“Shall I continue?”

“Please.”

“I do believe your attachment to Enola is very sweet. She is just like you. She idolizes you, more than she lets on to your face.”

“She does?”

Nodding, you continue, “She and I are friends, after all. She and Mycroft make the air very tense when they are around each other, but when she’s in any room with you, it’s very calm. You’d think it would be the opposite, because you both are attentive, but that’s not the case.”

“You are very good at paying attention.”

“It’s my gift. I tune into energy and gut-instinct. I’ve learned to read people over the years.”

“Sounds very similar to my line of work, can I observe you sometime?”

“Yeah, any time.” You feel timid. But he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

He clears his throat, “Let me escort you back to your rooms.”

————————————————————————————————————————————

He walks you through the house, seemingly knowing the route you use even though the wing you’re in is opposite his. You watch him through your peripheral and catch him with his gaze on you more than once. Occasionally as you walk side by side, your hand grazes his but you notice he doesn’t tense up or show any signs of displeasure.

You arrive at your doorway, going inside to the sitting area. You weren’t used to having anyone other than Enola visiting you, so you tidy as you walk around. You hear a chuckle come from Sherlock, making you turn towards him.

You grin to yourself. “Please, have a seat if you’d like,” you gesture towards the chair to his right. He sits. You pace before sitting opposite him. You feel something looming in the air, like there are some unspoken truths, but Sherlock breaks your thoughts.

“Would it be too untoward if I tell you that you are intriguing, too?”

“I am?”

Sherlock nods, “You present yourself unlike any other young woman I have encountered. It’s nice to see you speak up and be unfiltered from time to time.”

“You pay attention to me?”

“Of course.”

“But how come it never felt like that?”

“I don’t follow...” his voice trails off as your eyes link.

You stand up, “It felt, in some ways, that my presence wasn’t allowed. No, not allowed, just you seemed above it all.” You scoff, “Somehow, I’ve always felt invaluable to you. And I always refused to let it bother me because I am a woman and I am better than that. To let a man’s opinion of myself get to me would be against everything I’ve learned in the past. But again, it bothers me. I guess I’m not as good as I thought.” You walk to your drink cart and pour yourself a glass of wine, gulping it down, “So to hear that you notice do notice me, well, that’s a lot.”

Sherlock stands and walks towards you, “I was unaware. You never made any gesture to feeling this way.”

“How would I when your actions...” you take a breath. “There’s been a miscommunication.”

“Yes, there has.” Sherlock pours himself a glass of wine, sipping it delicately.

You lock eyes again, “So what do we do now?”

“I’ve never been one to speak of...feelings. But I care for you, deeply. I believe we are going to need to speak up. And perhaps there won’t be any more miscommunications.”

You catch yourself grinning like an idiot, “I care about you, too.” You reach a hand up and caress the side of his face; he leans into your touch.