#He's inspecting it because he's HUNGRY LEAVE HIM ALONE

[ladysharmaa]

Different worlds

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are from different worlds, but can they ignore the growing connection between them?

requested: yes

The Bridgerton mansion was cloaked in stillness, the kind of silence that settles only in the deep hours of the night. Yet, Y/n couldn't sleep. Restless and uneasy, she found herself padding down the servant's staircase to the kitchen. A warm cup of tea might help her finally quiet her overactive mind.

The kitchen was dimly lit by the soft glow of a single lantern. She moved quietly, mindful of the creaky floorboards as she prepared the kettle. Her thoughts wandered, as they often did these days, to Anthony Bridgerton.

The viscount had been kind to her after his mother brought her to join the other workers of the family. Before, she was living in the streets, sleeping on the cold floor and always alert due to the drunk men who sometimes crossed her path. She knew it was dangerous and was grateful that Violet Bridgerton appeared in her life before something bad and traumatic happened. She lived all her life in fear, but now, she felt for the first time in the Bridgerton house.

Therefore, she never participated in the gossip of the other workers out of respect for the opportunity they gave her. Most of the time, it was about the failed court that happened between him and Edwina Sharma.

Anthony was far kinder to her than someone with his power needed to be toward a servant. But his kindness had begun to feel... complicated. His lingering glances, the way his voice softened when he spoke her name, the way her heart raced whenever he entered the room—none of it was proper. Y/n tried her best to ignore it, to keep her distance, but every day the bond between them seemed to grow stronger.

With a sigh, she took an apple from the basket on the counter and began slicing it, hoping the rhythmic task might distract her.

"Couldn’t sleep either?"

Y/n jumped, startled by the voice of the man occupying her mind. Whirling around in surprise, she found Anthony standing in the doorway, his shirt untucked, and his hair slightly disheveled. He looked like he had wandered down on impulse, as restless as you were.

"My lord," Y/n greeted, quickly dipping into a curtsy. "I—I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake."

"I could say the same of you," he replied, stepping into the kitchen. His tone was casual, but there was something in his gaze that pinned her in place. "What’s troubling you?"

"Nothing, my lord," she quicly lied, turning back to her task, continuing to slice the apple, despite not being hungry anymore. However, she couldn’t let him see how his presence alone made her hands tremble. "I simply couldn't sleep."

There was a pause, the sound of his footsteps drawing closer. "You don’t have to call me 'my lord' when it’s just the two of us, you know."

"I do," Y/n said firmly, keeping her eyes solely on the knife. "Because it’s the truth. You are my lord, and I am your servant. It wouldn’t be right to pretend otherwise."

"Who says it wouldn’t be right?" he asked, his voice quieter now, closer. The feeling of his breath on the back of her neck made her straighten her spine.

Y/n remained silent. Instead, she looked ahead, trying to calm herself. However, she forgot about the knife in her hands until it slipped through her fingers. A sharp sting shot through her hand, and she hissed in pain, dropping the blade with a gasp.

"Let me see," Anthony said immediately, his hand reaching for yours.

"It’s nothing, my lord," the servant protested, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

"Stop arguing and let me help," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

He held her hand gently, turning it over to inspect the cut. He was solely focused on the wound, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. His reaction, even though it was a small cut, warmed Y/n's heart.

It wasn’t deep, but a small bead of blood welled up, and he reached for a cloth to press against it. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he feared hurting her further.

"You should be more careful," he murmured. "I can’t bear to see you hurt."

The words made your heart skip, but it was the way he was looking at her, full of adoration, that made Y/n speechless.

"My lord," she began, but her voice faltered when his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles.

"You call me 'my lord,' but you look at me as if you feel something more," he said softly. "Am I wrong?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "It doesn’t matter how I feel," Y/n whispered. "It can’t matter."

"But it does," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifted her hand, still wrapped in the cloth, and pressed it to his chest, just over his heart. "You matter."

Y/n knew she should pull away, that she should remind him of the impossibility of what he was saying. But in that moment, with his hand cradling yours and his eyes locked on her, all her resolve crumbled.

"Anthony," The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

He closed the distance between them, his free hand rising to cup her cheek hesitantly, giving her time to pull away. Slowly, and analyzing her expression to make sure this was exactly what she wanted, Anthony began to bring their faces closer. With Y/n's nod, he finally connected their lips. It was gentle at first, but once he tasted her, he quickly deepened the passionate kiss.

For a moment, the world fell away. There was no viscount and servant, no rules or expectations. Just the two of them, tangled in something that felt achingly real.

When they finally broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin.

"Tell me this isn’t impossible," he said quietly. "Tell me there’s a chance for us."

Y/n didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to deny him—or herself.

"Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe there is. But we have to keep it a secret. I don't want you to get into trouble."

"We can keep it for now, whatever you want. But believe me, I'm going to marry you and everyone will know you're mine." Anthony vowed. But in that moment, he let himself simply enjoy her touch.

[devoutekuna]

Getting woken up by his child

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

A/N- Toji's part is from my previous blog

Sukuna

"Get out" Gripping the poor boy by his shoulders, only making him kick and squeak for you even more. He was sick and tired of his son coming to wake you up in the middle of the night. Especially when it wasn't anything important. He treasured his alone time with you, anywhere away from his offspring who did nothing but terrorizing him.

"Get off!" Trying to slap and kick his father, taking the boy out of the shared bedroom, dropping him onto the ground before closing the door on him. The pink haired man walked back to your sleeping body, smirking at the sound of his son's pleas.

Nanami-

"Why do you need mummy?" Rolling over to fair the fair haired toddler, who was climbing onto the bed, trying to use his legs as a handle bar. A giant grin appearing on his face as he saw his parent. "Papa!" Hands sticking out as he wanted to get on the bed. "Upsies" picking up the kid as he sat him on his chest. Gently pinching his cheek as he waited for a response. "Me hungry" pointing to himself as he expected food to appear. Sighing as he knew that he had to tend to his son's needs but didn't want to leave his beautiful wife. Sitting up as he slipped on some slippers, latching the kid onto his hip.

Geto-

Hands wrapped around your waist as he held you close, his chest touching your back. Feeling the light taps of someone on his shoulders, glancing back to see who the culprit was. None other than his daughter. "Dad" tugging on his hair as it was the closest. "What is it sweetheart?" It had to be pretty important to disturb his sleep. "I wanna sleep in here." Not bothering to put up a fuss as he opened up the blanket towards her, quickly slipping under the covers with her toy. Letting out a puff of air as he felt the her body warmth rub against his back.

Gojo-

The feeling of hands slapping his face woke him up. The infamous grin of his son being the first sight to his day. "What the-" grabbing the child's hand as he inspected it, seeing the fresh colour of blue paint along his hand, knowing that it only meant that it was on his face. Sitting up as he grabbed the closest reflective item, seeing the blue paint adorning his face. His surroundings come to light as he scanned the room, hand prints falling upon nearly every surface he could reach. Knowing that you'd freak if you saw the mess he made. "Isn't blue your favourite colour daddy?" He knew exactly what he was doing with the teasing.

Toji-

The feeling of the duvet being pulled off him as he felt a light weight crawl onto his chest, opening his eyes to see the little black haired girl crawling onto his chest, he onesie somehow falling off her. Watching as she fell off onto the bed, slowly making her way over to you, she didn't even notice that he father was awake.

Standing up as she tried to keep her balance, falling over each time till she made her way to you. Hands falling onto your covered face. Growing annoyed as he saw how you slept so peacefully only to be woken up to your needy daughter, especially since you needed the rest because you always took care of her whilst he worked.

"Leave ya' mother alone" dragging the small baby off you. Much to her dismay as she felt her chubby clothed legs being dragged away. "Ma-ma" crying for you already as she felt his calloused hands grab her. Throwing her onto his chest, holding her legs down to make sure she didn't try to escape. "What do you want?" More like an order to respond, knowing that she probably couldn't say it since she was around 14 months old.

"Mama" pointing to your sleeping body, pouting her lips as she really wanted you. Sighing in defeat since he'd have to leave the comfort of his bed.

[blastoqueen]

Sunrise.

Chapter 1

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Noa x Mae (Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes)

Content warnings: None

Comments: English is not my first language. Sorry if something is wrong.

Mae arrived at the village only two months after leaving Noa unsatisfied with her answer.

“Can apes and humans live together?” he had asked.

“I don’t know”

Even so, Noa accepted her in his clan and respected her silence. He knew that trying to get information out of the girl would be useless. She didn’t tell the ape why she was there; she just came one day looking sad, defeated and really thin. It would have been almost impossible for Noa to recognize Mae from afar only by seeing the state she was in.

The human walked to the village tumbling and being skin and bones. The ape had always been shocked at how skinny Echoes were, but even he knew that Mae´s body was not normal. He could see how bony her knees were and it was honestly scary. Maybe that’s why he let her stay without even thinking about what the elders would say.

As soon as Mae stepped into their territory, the apes came running with spears incase she represented a thread. By their surprise, the human only said one word before hitting the ground. “Noa”.

The leader approached as fast as he could, making his way through the crowd. When he saw her, he signed the other apes to carry her.

“To the tower”

------

Mae was resting in a litter inside the main tower, when Noa approached her, holding a bowl with different fruits in it.

“You are hungry” the ape said. It wasn’t a question, so the girl didn’t answer.

Noa gave her a peach and the human took it with weakness in her hands, she took a careful bite before almost devouring the entire fruit. The male sat beside her, watching her eat. When Mae reached out for another, he passed her an apple this time.

“You look bad” Noa said.

She just huffed.

“I need meat” the Echo said when she finished the apple.

“Meat?” Noa asked “We have fish”

“Yes, fish, please”

Noa looked at her for a few seconds before leaving the tower. When he came back, he carried in his hands a cloth with a cooked fish in it.

“I didn’t know Echoes ate meat” Noa murmured.

“I didn’t know apes cooked their meat”

The male growled in response. When the girl finished the whole fish, Noa tried to ask her what had happened. Why was she in this state? Why would she come for help? Was she staying? “Please stay” he thought for a moment.

“What?” Mae asked. She could see the doubt in his face.

“What… happened?”

The Echo stayed silent for a moment. Couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth, to show herself vulnerable in front of an ape, their enemy.

“A lot” she whispered.

Noa nodded.

“I will let you sleep”

The male started to leave when the voice of the human stopped him.

“Wait, Noa” she said, he could hear something different, was she scared? “You are not going to leave me alone with the other apes, right?”

Noa turned around to see her in the eyes, he was annoyed. She hasn’t changed.

“We are not savages, Mae”

He left the tower.

-------

Three days had passed since Mae returned to the village and Noa had only seen her once. The other apes were responsible for bringing her food and water while she rested and slept for most of the days. One afternoon, Soona enter the tower. Carefully, she handed the human a bowl with berries. Mae looked at the female for a few seconds, then took the food with a smile.

“Thank you”

Soona stayed still, watching the girl. She inspected her thin arms and legs, noticing an almost invisible coat of fur covering her skin. Mae took a handful of berries trying to ignore the intense look of Noa´s friend.

“Do you know were Noa is?” the human asked.

“He has been sleeping with me” Soona said “Because you are in his tower”

The girl nodded in understanding and continued eating.

“You make him… anxious” said the ape.

“Anxious?” Mae asked. How did they know that word?

“He does not know what to do… with you”

“Oh…” Mae looked down to her lap “I´ll leave tomorrow. I don’t want to cause him any problems”

“He does not want you to leave” Soona murmured.

The human thought about her answer carefully, not knowing what to say.

“You said I make him anxious”

“He is anxious because… he wants you to stay. But he knows apes do not want that”

Without waiting for an answer, Soona left.

Anxious, anxious, anxious... Was there even a time when Mae wasn’t feeling anxiety? Thinking about the whole situation made her nervous. She remembered her times at the bunker, before turning eight years old life was boring, monotonous, but safe. The moment she started to really understand why her life was the way it was it felt like she was trapped underground, unable to breathe. Growing up, she went to school, took classes with other kids and learned the basics of life. She learned math, English, history and geography. Those last two were kind of strange for her, all she knew was the bunker, was there really a different world out there? She read about countries, wars, nature, technology and cultures from hundred of years before. Mae only saw pictures but couldn’t even grasp the concept of a blue sky. She tried to ask her parents, were they outside when they were kids? The answer of course was no. “We know about the outside world as much as you do”. Since the moment she learned to speak, all the adults in her life made sure to let her know that the apes were the enemy. By twelve, she and the other two kids her age knew all the story of why things were like that. The laboratory, the virus, the wars, how the ALZ-113 made apes smart and took away the intelligence of humans. She started to feel something in her chest and her heart was beating very fast. Was she going to die? She was only a kid.

By thirteen, they started to teach her basic human skills to survive in the wild, technology, engineering, agriculture and so. Her mother wanted her to become part of the medical team when she turned seventeen, just like she did, but Mae said she needed to help in other ways, she wanted to get her hands dirty.

When the girl turned twenty-two, she became part of a mission to get a key from one of the safest bunkers in what used to be U.S.A, it was said that only politicians and important people got in that bunker hundreds of years ago, and that place held the most important technology and weapons to free humans from the dominium of apes. That night, after agreeing to the plan, Mae felt her chest tight and tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t breathe. Her mom found her in her room, having a panic attack. “It´s called anxiety”

--------

Mae woke up in the middle of the night, she opened her eyes and felt a tear rolling down her cheek. The girl didn’t remember exactly what she was dreaming, but she knew it was related to the events of the last weeks. Slowly, she sat in the litter and a movement caught her eye; under the faint light of a torch, she could see Noa resting in the ground, chin on his knees, thinking.

“I haven’t seen you in a couple of days” Mae said. She wasn’t sure if the ape was mad at her or if Soona was right and the male was just anxious.

The girl asked herself if the ape had been a accompanying her all these nights, but that though vanish almost immediately when she remembered what Soona said about Noa sleeping with her.

“Needed to come up with a plan” the ape said without even looking in her direction.

“You don’t need to” Mae whispered “I´m leaving in the morning”

Noa stayed in silence and looked at her blue eyes for a moment. Why was she so difficult?

“Why?” he asked “Here you have food and protection”

“I can protect myself”

Noa scoffed.

“What? You think I am weak?” now she was getting angry. She survived a lot, she was not some princess who needed to be saved, much less by an ape.

“I think you need to recover” he said.

“I just needed food”

“There is plenty of food out there… Mae. You are not capable of getting food”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Noa could see the anger in her eyes. He then knew he shouldn’t have said that, but he was getting kind of desperate to make her stay so he was just saying stupid things, which happened to do the opposite of what he intended. Even so, the apes ego made it difficult to apologize.

He didn’t even know what “fuck” meant.

“Look at you” Noa said “Even the wild Echoes look better... than you”

“They are humans!”

“Whatever!”

The leader knew they had to be quiet, or they would wake up the village. Noa didn’t want any more problems, he just wished for the girl to make sense and stay with his clan.

“Your people don’t want me here” Mae said in a whisper. He could see in her eyes a little bit of sadness.

So, it was about the other apes? The Echo wanted to run away again, because his people may not accept her in the village? Noa got a little hope, all this time he thought that Mae hated the idea to stay because she refuses to live near other apes.

“I am the leader”

“So what? You don’t think they could turn their backs at you for helping me? They could take away your title or whatever and kill you!”

The girl started to silently cry. Was she sad because she imagined Noa dying? No, but it was nice thinking she was.

“Why would they… kill me? We are not like humans. In the clan we do not kill each other”.

Mae stayed quiet.

“There is a lake not far from here” Noa started to walk to the exit “Tomorrow you shower. You stink”.

[joelmillers-whore]

Choking Hazard

summary: you’ve been waiting for joel all day, waiting for him to fuck you like he promised. but when he discovers that you’d gotten yourself off earlier, he makes you pay for being disobedient. 

recommended song(s): SLUT ME OUT - NLE Choppa 

pairings: joel x reader 

word count: 4.1K

series or one-shot 

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, joel miller x female!reader, SMUT, daddy joel can get it, orgasm denial, overstimulation, use of sex toys (vibrator), allusions to female masturbation, cum play, oral (male receiving), praise, slight degradation kink, dirty talk, dom joel, choking on cock, fingering but for only a second, rough blowjob, lots and lots of teasing, edging, pet names (mostly baby and sweetness, a lil darlin' in there too), porn without plot, cum facial, cum eating, spitting 

A/N: JUST SOME GOOD ‘OL DIRTY SMUT FOR YOU ALL. i don’t know what this is but i saw a picture on pinterest of a pair of boxers that had the words ‘choking hazard’ written on the crotch and my dirty mind ran with it lol. 

You’d been waiting not so patiently for Joel to get home from work and it was killing you. He’d left your whole body on fire, each searing touch licking at your flesh, each hungry look he gave another nail in the coffin for your pride. Because you wanted it— needed it, and he was all too aware of that fact.

You were so turned on that the slightest brush at just the right angle could knock into you and you’d probably cum on the spot. Your need was bad, and deadly, and it didn’t help much that Joel enjoyed it. He got a kick out of torturing you, holding your release just out of reach that you’d be willing to ruin yourself for a single moment of pleasure. 

The taunting had become a test between you, each measuring your limits and how much you could take. This time was no different. With dark and rounded eyes, Joel had gripped you hard by your chin, almost painfully so, and demanded that you not touch yourself, not give into the temptation of your orgasm.

And then, he did the most menacing thing he had ever done. He left you alone and completely to your own devices, if not for a small keepsake of multiple and agonizingly strong bursts of tremors every hour. 

Your nipples hardened into painful peaks, pressing into the abrasive material of your shirt and torturing you with equally blissful and confusing sensations. You snapped your eyes shut, rolling your head to the side as a powerful buzz rocketed through you, sending vibration after vibration shooting from your core, through the expanse of your body and settling low in your stomach, nudging you closer to your orgasm.

It was demented what he was doing to you; his little science experiment like you were some sort of fucked-out lab rat. It was drawn out and bordering on sadistic, and you couldn’t do anything but take it. 

Before heading out for the day, Joel had instructed you to get on the bed and spread your legs. His voice had been low, lethal, the edge of it shooting straight to your core, turning you into a needy slut. You’d whined, and begged, but Joel wouldn’t have it.

It was his time, his moment, and he wasn’t going to allow you to take that away from him. You had thought that he would be kind, that he would leave you with a parting gift. Maybe an orgasm to satiate your hunger for him until he came back home. Instead, your lips turned down, your brows furrowing in confusion when he’d revealed a small box, holding up a strange-looking device. 

Your core fluttered and came to life as you laid eyes on the toy. The pink, smooth vibrator promising endless pleasure that you’d happily give into. As you inspected it, your walls clamped around nothing, eyes dragging over the silicon material that curved at the end.

It reminded you of Joel’s cock and you bit down on your lip, suppressing a moan, not wanting to give Joel any more ammunition than he already had. 

You were roughly pulled toward the edge of the bed, feeling Joel’s massive and calloused hands grip you, making you squirm away from his touch out of reflex. He grabbed your ankles, soft fingers contrasted against the strength behind his grip.

Each and every nerve was awakened, charged, as if at a molecular level, you had been starved. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that the way he was looking at you, through heavy lids, his eyes glinting with devilish intent, wasn’t turning you on. Because it was.

You both knew it. You could feel the prominent wetness in your underwear grow in size and at this rate, you’d be drenched by the time he got you out of them. 

He wasted no time shimming you out of said panties, forcefully lifting your hips and tugging them down your legs. It was rushed, quick, as if at any second he could change his mind, alter his direction, and fuck you senseless instead.

You noticed the strain on his face, the way that the muscles in his neck were so tightly coiled you’d bet they would snap if you so much as breathed wrong. He was wound up as soundly as you were, suffering the same way you were, yet he let his feelings aside to fulfill a deeper desire. 

With your soaked panties in one hand and his other gripping both of your ankles, he brought the material to his nose, inhaling your scent deeply, with purpose. He let out a rumbling groan, letting his eyes flutter closed as he relished in it, knowing that you were that wet for him. Only him. Only ever him.

Your chest squeezed, constricting in time with your quickened breathing, the anticipation was killing you. Your hairline was slick with beads of sweat, from both the rising temperature in the room, and the restraint that you were exhibiting. Because you were holding yourself back, waiting to see what came next. 

Joel dropped to his knees, running his hands up and down your legs, almost tenderly, teasingly lighter than how he had been. It fucked with your head, how he was able to be both tender and punishing within such a short amount of time.

He inserted a single digit into you, your hips lifting, trying to escape the sudden intrusion. Joel held you firmly in place, his hand on your stomach crushing you into the mattress below. You’d thrown your head back, wiggling your lower half, trying to find something more than just his one finger. 

He had shushed you, telling you to be patient and that he’d make you cum if you behaved. His words heated your skin, making your lower stomach cramp and sparking something primal within you. You wanted him to fuck you with wild abandon, not stopping when you cried out, begged him for some sort of reprieve, or when you gasped for breath.

You needed him carnally, in a way that would make the Gods weep. It was something you should be ashamed of, but then again, did you really care? 

Your back naturally arched off of the bed when you felt him finally move inside of you, scissoring your hole, and curling his fingers, tickling the edge of your walls. A broken moan slipped past your lips, and incoherent begging mixed with panting came next. Your mind was in a fog, abuzz with lust. You continued to beg for it, begged for anything to make the pain stop. 

Joel removed his fingers, chuckling darkly when you whined. His face was twisted in concentration as he replaced his fingers with the vibrator, the size of it stretching you out.

Your chest was heaving, feeling like a balloon ready to burst from the blinding pressure in your cunt. He inserted it inch by delicious inch, not stopping when you protested, telling him that it wouldn’t fit. He made some crude comment that he would make it fit. 

You should have been turned off but your skin only tingled when he had said it. You felt his eyes watching you every second, not straying from your face as he studied you, curious to see how far he could push you, which limit would be too much for you.

He hummed in satisfaction when the device was fully lodged inside of you. 

In your daze, you hadn’t been sure if you asked him aloud what he planned to do with you, or if you had just only thought it. But when his raspy voice cut through the dense air between you, you’d stilled. You’ll see, is all you had gotten from him.

It made your heartbeat thunder in your chest, hearing a teasing, but all the same, dark lilt dripping from his silky and usually warm Southern drawl. But it wasn’t warm today, it was cold.

Chilling you to the bone at his warning disguised as a promise. Joel got to his feet, leaning over your slack body, and gripped your chin, thumb digging into your bottom lip. 

“Open”, he instructed, and you obeyed. 

You opened your mouth, slowly. He towered over you, his face inches from your own. His dark brown eyes held no warmth, instead, they made you shiver when you looked into them. Which was an entirely new feeling for you. With an open mouth, Joel parted his own lips, letting a glop of saliva dangle off of his tongue, and let it drip into your awaiting mouth.

He snapped your jaw closed, watching your eyes curiously for any hint of disgust or refusal. Not that he’d let you refuse him in the first place. 

“Swallow”. 

Two words. Commands. And you were putty, willing to do whatever to please him. Your throat worked his spit down, swallowing it audibly. Joel’s lips quirked at the edges, his eyes shining with satisfaction. Wordlessly, he left you, heading out of the bedroom.

The room was silent, save for your harsh breathing. You heard the front door close, mistakenly thinking that Joel would be right back but you had been wrong. You shot up shakily, balancing your body weight on your elbows as you let out an annoyed puff. 

Your head was spinning as you lay there, waiting for what, you didn’t know. You rubbed your thighs together, unsure of your next move. Joel hadn’t explicitly said that you couldn’t touch yourself and he wasn’t there to help you out. What was the harm?

A sudden and sharp buzz pounded into you, the jolt making you rip your hand away from your aching cunt, forcing a loud moan from you. Your toes curled from the onslaught of pressure building and you were panting, slick running down your legs. 

You felt the warm tingling sensation that you craved. It began at the base of your spine, easing the knot that had been tangled in your stomach. It climbed higher and higher, your throat gulping bursts of air at a damning rate.

Your clit was on fire from the overstimulation of the continual vibrations, the pleasure bordering on painful. You were levitating off of the bed, head empty of every thought except your imminent release. Streaks of hot tears painted your cheeks, from the burn in your pussy, or the relief, you weren’t sure. 

Your legs quivered in time with each drawn-out buzz, your orgasm cresting and a breath away from exploding out of you. Suddenly, everything stopped. The vibrations were gone, your release yanked from you. You whimpered, crying out into the empty room as if someone could hear you. 

What the fuck? Your breathing was choppy, almost coming out as wheezes, your throat burning. Your pussy fluttered, your walls clamping and unclamping as if they didn’t know what to do next. You blinked back more tears, throwing your head back in both exhaustion and pent-up anger.

You were officially sexually frustrated that you’d give anything to cum. It was all so overwhelming and torturous. You heard a dull vibration from somewhere in the room, your body so hooked on the buzzing of the vibrator that it twitched.

You shook your head, sliding from the bed. It was your phone. Your heart ticked up when you saw that the message was from Joel. 

Joel: Having fun? 

You audibly growled at the phone. He was taunting you when you were all out of patience. The fucking bastard. 

You: Actually, no. 

Joel: Bet you’d have a change of heart if I made you cum.

Your walls clenched around nothing when you read and re-read his words, making sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

You: Was that... you? 

He took longer to respond this time, which made your hand clench at your side, nerves working in tandem with your displaced energy. You waited for his answer, realizing that you were playing right into his hand, holding your breath for his next instruction.

A soft buzz emitted in your hand. 

Joel: Thought we could have some fun today. 

You groaned, cursing softly. Fun. Sure. That had been so much fun. 

You: Wasn’t that much fun, baby. I didn’t get to cum. 

Joel: If you’re a good girl today, maybe I’ll let you. 

Maybe I’ll let you. The fucking balls on this man. He knew exactly what he was doing, winding you up so that you’d have no choice but to agree to him. You felt like he knew every decision you were going to make and yet, you had never been so turned on in your life. 

You: Fine. What do I have to do? 

Joel: Behave. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum until I get back home. You’ll be rewarded if you manage to hold out. 

You rolled your eyes. It was sick. It was sick and oh, so hot. You bit down on your lip, wincing from the pressure. 

You: You have a deal. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your thighs had been aching all day, shaking until the muscles spasmed on their own. You debated conceding, telling Joel that you were at the end of your rope, and that he would just have to let you make it up to him.

Your resolve had slipped further out of reach as the day progressed, the excruciating spike of the harsh vibrations drilling into you, forcing you to grip whatever surface was closest to you, until the blinding pleasure subsided. Your mind was creeping to the edge of madness, your determination waning. Until it was non-existent. 

Your chest was heaving, toes cramping, chest burning as you came back down from your orgasm, your engorged and swollen clit chafing as you slid off of the bed.

Your fingers were covered in your own juices, as you walked into the bathroom to wash your hands. You’d broken your promise, crumpled for a moment of gratifying pleasure. And you felt like a failure. 

But you hadn’t been able to dwell on it for long before you heard the front door unlock, your back stiffening as you heard it close gently. Your breathing became shallow, knowing you were in for it, and that you hadn’t been able to last. Joel would unearth the truth from you and punish you accordingly.

A cord of both anxiety and excitement settled between your legs. You heard the dull thump of him kicking off his boots, your spine tingling with anticipation as you tracked each step he took. 

Joel entered the bedroom, finding your eyes immediately. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes roaming you hungrily. His smile was tired, but those never-ending orbs gleamed back at you with the promise of something sinful.

They squinted, boring into you suspiciously. You fiddled with your hands, trying not to make it obvious that you had disobeyed him, cumming just moments ago when he had told you not to. 

Joel closed the distance, peeling off his flannel, and throwing it onto the chair in the corner of the bedroom. Your gaze focused on his chest, his broad shoulders, watching the subtle way that his chest rose and fell softly. He didn’t seem the least bit on edge, unlike you. His hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. 

He inhaled deeply, a wicked and knowing smirk plastered on his lips. 

"'D'you come, baby? Hm?", he asked, gruffly. "Did you disobey me and get yourself off?". 

"No", you answered, shaking your head. But it came out meekly, unsure. 

Joel slid one of his hands up your waist, crawling up your stomach and past your chest, to grip your throat, resting at the base of it. Out of habit, you swallowed, Joel’s eyes flicking to your throat.

His eyes seemed almost black, endless with lust as they honed in on you. On every tick and hum of your body. 

His hand tightened around your throat, not yet constricting your airflow, but playing with the fact that he could if he so chose.

A surge of liquid fire tore through your lower belly, making a home deep within you. 

"I think you did, sweetness", he hummed, licking his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring, "I can smell it on you". 

You fisted his shirt, unsure if you were trying to stop him from what he was going to do next, or steady yourself as you rode the impending wave. His grip tightened on your throat, and the other hand pulled your body flush with his.

Your pulse strummed, feeling him harden through his jeans. You felt his growing bulge push into your stomach. You were only wearing an oversized shirt yourself, your lower half completely bare and exposed, ready for whatever Joel was about to do to you. 

His face lowered and he dragged his scruff along your jawline harshly, his full lips ghosting over your already inflamed skin. You whined from the contact, practically keening at how touch-starved you felt.

Joel had complete control over your emotions and your body. He had two modes; rough and tender. And you knew exactly which one you were in for tonight.  

“Don’t lie to me now”, he started, his one hand tangling in your hair, yanking to the point of pain. “Just gonna make it worse for yourself”. 

You let out a broken moan, bucking your hips into his bulge, trying to distract him long enough to forget that you’d come without his permission.

But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. He only tightened the hand that was around your throat, all but crushing your windpipe, causing your pussy to weep at how much you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Y-yes”, you admitted, choking on the words. You swallowed against the grip on your throat. 

Joel clicked his teeth, shaking his head. You could tell that he was disappointed in you, it was written all over his face.

He looked down at you through heavy lids, his pupils the size of saucers, the intensity making you shiver. 

“What am I going to do with you, huh?��. 

You ground your hips into his groin, eliciting a clipped groan from him. 

“Fuck me, Joel", there was an edge to your voice, as you rubbed your thighs together to ease the pulsating, “Please, baby. I’m so wet for you”. 

Joel grunted, features neutral as he glared at you. “Fucking is a reward, but you haven’t been good. Have ya, sweetness?”. 

Your body trembled at his harsh tone, hearing the intensity in his voice, how strained it was. 

He continued, “Gonna have to punish you”. You nodded, both ready and willing to accept whatever punishment he dealt. “Get on your knees”. 

You didn’t hesitate, Joel’s grasp releasing you as he stepped back, giving you room as you lowered yourself. When you were situated, you looked up at him, watching as he undid his belt. 

His movements were fluid, smooth, and confident as he dropped the belt to the ground with a dull clang. Buttons were undone, his zipper taunting he pulled it down slowly. Next came his jeans and boxers, shuffling them down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles. 

Joel’s cock sprang free from its constraints, finally. It slapped against his stomach, pre-cum already dribbling out from the tip, making the head glistening in the low light of the room.

You wet your lips, preparing for the breach into your mouth. He reached out, taking hold of your chin, looking down at you with admiration. 

"Don't say I didn't warn 'ya", Joel muttered as he released your chin, taking hold of his cock and fisting it. 

You watched him stroke himself rhythmically, taking his time with it, a low grunt leaving him when he stopped, eyes on you. 

"A little help, darlin'?", Joel asked, his voice stuttering in time with his breathing. And you immediately what he was asking of you. 

You let the saliva in your mouth pool in your cheeks, standing on your knees and letting a glob of spit drop from your mouth, dripping onto his shaft. He smirked at you, a pleased hum rumbling from his throat as he used the lubricant that you provided to continue stroking himself. 

Loud grunting tumbled out of him, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. Joel was practically in a cloud of lust as he gripped the back of your neck, pushing your face closer to his lower half.

You opened your mouth, your head in a tizzy as you inhaled his musk; a mix of salty sweat and his natural aroma invading your senses. 

With your mouth open wide he forced his member into your mouth roughly, not giving you a minute to adjust or breathe. His tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to momentarily sputter around him. But he wasn’t deterred, if anything, it only spurred him on more, witnessing you choke down his huge cock.

He demanded more, always more from you. You inhaled deeply through your nose as he continued to stuff his girth further down your throat. 

You unhinged your jaw as wide as you could, opening your throat to take more of him. You hollowed out your cheeks as Joel’s hand snaked back around to fist your hair, guiding your head as he began thrusting his hips savagely.

Your eyes watered from the intensity of his pace, trying to remember to breathe. Your head bobbed up and down his length, interchangeably suckling at the tip. 

"Mmm, you like sucking my cock, hm?”, Joel asked, his voice raspy, “Like choking on it like a good little slut”. 

You hummed around him, satisfied that he was enjoying himself. You used your tongue to bring him even more pleasure, licking a wide strip along the underside of it. Joel bucked his hips faster, yanking your head back and burying himself down your throat, to the hilt.

You gagged, your eyes dispelling the build-up of tears, your lungs burning from the lack of air. 

You could feel your whole body start to simmer, your inhibitions and fleeting anger at Joel withholding your orgasm from you, gone. Now you were only focused on one thing; making him cum. There was an influx of pressure coursing through you.

You wanted more, actually, you needed it. You reached in between your legs, barely touching your clit, the sensation driving you insane, and moaning onto Joel’s cock. His eyes snapped to you, noticing that you were touching yourself. 

"D'you think you deserve to come, sweetness? Hm?", he mocked, watching as your brows furrowed and you massaged your clit harder, "'Cause I don't think so". 

Joel grabbed your arm forcefully, keeping up his unruly tempo on your throat, his balls slapping hard against your chin.

You whined around his cock, feeling the swell of your orgasm just on the outskirts. 

"You've been disobedient, darlin', and we need to correct that", he continued, making you gag on his length, chuckling darkly.  

His jaw was slack, his head falling back as he grunted, feeling your throat acclimate to his size. Accepting that you weren't going to get off anytime soon, you concentrated all of your efforts on him.  

You decided to turn the tables on him, sitting back on your heels and puckering your lips, sliding them up and down his shaft. He groaned above you, his other hand joined the one in your hair, holding on for dear life.

You could feel him twitch in your mouth, signalling that he was close. You picked up your pace, sucking the tip and massaging his balls to bring him to the edge. 

Joel removed you from his length with a pop, saliva dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin, you were positively intoxicated from his cock, under its spell.

Confusion was written all over your face as he pulled back. He fisted his cock, fast strokes faltering as his whole body began to shake. 

"'M gonna cum, sweetness. Where do you want it?", he sighed, gasping for air as his eyes closed. You gaped at him closely, turned on by watching him lose control. 

"Want you to cum on my face", you said, low. 

"Fuck, you can't just say that to me".

Joel pumped his cock harder and it didn't take much before he was unloading his spend onto your face, painting you with his seed. Your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the warmth of him on your skin.

His groans were deep and throaty as he milked himself of every drop. 

You felt a dollop of his cum run down your cheek, cresting the edge of your mouth. You opened your eyes to see him use his cock to wipe it up, shuffling it into your mouth.

You purred, licking up each drop like the obedient little slut that you were. When your face was clean, you stood up, leading Joel to the bed and straddling his lap. 

"Did I do good?", you asked, blinking up at him sweetly. 

He nodded, "You did so well, sweetness. Now lemme make sure you feel good too".

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you're just trying to do your part in ending the 100-year war.

hellooo so this is my first official published fic that i will keep up! hopefully you guys like it, let me know! this is set in book 1 ep 10 in the Jet episode! i do not own Avatar or these characters! okayy enjoyyy >.<

Part 2

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

All I can see for miles is shades of crimson and orange. We’re so close to home, it almost feels like I’ve returned.

I’m standing in the trees near Jet and The Duke, peering down at twenty Fire Nation soldiers and their camp, waiting for the right moment to attack. The plan was to keep an eye out and alert Jet if anything could be of use to us. I hold onto my swords in anticipation.

“We’ve been here all morning, what if we don’t get a shot?” The Duke asked.

“Relax, we will.” Jet replied in his infamous cool manner. He was so sure we would score big this time and have one of the greatest victories thus far. I didn’t see the point, it seemed like your average solider platoon. But maybe he was right. He hasn’t let me down yet.

I met Jet when I was 13 and freshly ran away from home. I had left everything that could resemble Fire Nation in my room and took only my closest valuables. With one bag over my shoulder and a week of struggling to find food, the cool leader crossed my path in a forest not too far from where we’re standing now.

“Are you lost?” Jet questioned me.

“No, I’m hungry.” It was true. I hadn’t eaten for so long because I didn’t know how to find food. My family’s position in society meant I usually had servants dressing me, brushing my hair, and finding my food for me. It’s not something that crossed my mind when I left in a rageful fury.

“What’s your name?” He replied.

“Y/N.”

“You’re a kid. Don’t you have parents to feed you?”

“Don’t you?”

And that was that. I had passed Jet’s mysterious test and he invited me into his little world of lost children who were strong, brave, and alone. I was lucky to have found them when I did.

Three years later, the same cool leader has me standing in the trees like a predator waiting to catch its prey. That’s when I hear it. The voice of a teenage boy.

I crouch down to focus on the noise and see the rustling in the bushes near the Fire Nation camp we’re getting ready to bust. A boy in blue appears, looking backwards to his friends in an annoyed tone. Just as I spot him, he spots the soldiers in black and red.

“This is it.” I tell Jet. He nods and whistles his command to the Freedom Fighters, sending us off to our mission.

I come down from the trees and land on my feet, quickly inspecting my environment. Taking out two of my swords, I spot the boy in blue preparing an attack for a Fire Nation soldier who will surely beat him. His stance is all wrong, I can’t believe he’s actually attempting this.

I use both of my swords and dig them into the ground, launching my feet forward and off the dirt floor, kicking the soldier in the abdomen and out of balance. He falls over with the wind knocked out of him.

“Hey! He was mine!” The boy in blue exasperated.

“No, he wasn’t.” I snarked at him. This is the fun part of being with the Freedom Fighters, winning.

After a few minutes, the soldiers scurry off like rats when the lights turn on. They go in every direction, disappearing into the autumn-colored forest.

“We did it!” I celebrate. For a moment, I catch my breath and put my swords back into their sheaths.

The trio of strangers gather together and start walking toward us.

“Who are you guys?” The youngest with a blue arrow on his head spoke first.

“I’m Jet, and these are my Freedom Fighters.” The leader introduces the members one by one, leaving me for last. “And this is Y/N. She’s my right-hand.” He graces.

I wave at the trio, taking them in as they process the new information they’ve just been handed. It’s a Water Tribe pair with another boy in orange. His clothes were strange, when was the last time someone wore Air Nomad clothes like his? I wondered. I had briefly seen the girl bend water, but it was impossible for the boy to be an air bender. The Fire Nation made sure of that.

“Let’s loot!” Jet interrupts my thoughts, and the rebels cheer in agreement. Looting time.

I focus on a tent to begin raiding the soldiers' bags and belongings. If we’re lucky, the group can score something to help us in our efforts—a map, a plan, a supply shipment—anything to take the empire down.

As I go through my first bag, the boy in blue enters the tent. I look up at his glare and stare him right in the eye.

He crosses his arms and gloats, “Just so you know, I could have handled that. But thanks for your help.”

“Didn’t look like that from where I was standing.” I shrugged and shifted my focus back onto the bag. I flip it upside down so the contents come spilling out.

“And where were you standing by the way? You guys came out of nowhere!” Clearly, he wasn’t going to let my swoop-in go.

“We were in the trees, been staking out all morning.” Nothing of importance in the first bag so I move onto the next one, opening the top and letting the soldier’s belongings fall on the floor for me to inspect. “Until you,” I point at his chest, “came along and made the perfect distraction. It should be me thanking you.”

A balled-up messenger hawk message comes out of the bag. I can tell from its design that it comes from the Admiral, lucky me. Ignoring the boy in front of me, I open the letter and read the writing.

The Avatar has returned. From now on, any information must be reported to Admiral Zhao. The Banished Prince is to be ignored.

The Banished Prince. My finger grazes the ink.

“One day she’s going to try and overthrow me, I swear.” Zuko confesses as he lunges forward with his sword. I dodge his attempt at an offense and strike back.

“Even if she does, you and I can take her.” I reply. My mind is focused on the sparring round, but Zuko seems to be somewhere else. He’s not taking any of my bait to back him into a corner.

“You’d help me fight?” His demeaner softens and I know this is the moment I can use to win. I use the gymnastics I was forced to learn to my advantage and gain the higher ground on a bench near the turtle duck pond. His sword falls out of his hand as I send my blade toward him, making sure to not seriously hurt him. Zuko holds his hands up in defeat. I win this round.

“Duh, it’s kind of my throne now too. I’ve grown fond of it.” I hold one hand to my heart, feigning admiration for the title.

The Prince and I grew up together. Learning fire-bending at the same academy, attending snobby important society gatherings, and now practicing sword-fighting at the Royal Palace’s turtle duck pond. We became halves of one whole. If the cosmic forces upon us gave me the mind, it gave Zuko the heart. And together, we felt complete.

“One day I’ll have to be Fire Lord.” He solemnly said.

“One day. But for now, just focus on beating me! Round 4?”

I take a deep breath in and push the memory away. Time makes it easy. The boy in blue waiting for my response to the messenger hawk letter makes it even easier.

“It’s nothing, just old information.” I crumble the paper into a ball once again and throw it with the rest of the useless items I’ve gone through so far. “Do you want to come to the hideout?” I change the subject.

“You guys have a hideout?” His eyes widen in amusement.

“Yes, but maybe I should know your name before I let you go up there.”

“It’s Sokka.” He answers. “And you?”

“Y/N.” I hold my hand out so he can shake it, and he does. When his hand touches mine, a pit forms in my gut. I got the feeling I’d be knowing him for a long time. “Well, Sokka, follow me.”

[buckgasms]

Soooo what do you think Daddy!Bucky would do if Princess was misbehaving out in public…. what about maybe in front of their friends?? I need your FILTHY THOTS!!!

Misbehaving????? In Public???? Princess???

👆this is the reaction

It's tricky because Princess is quite shy in public, and doesn't like lots of people around, but there's always opportunities to be naughty when you put your mind to it. Let's say you're at a party, some of Bucky's close friends are there, lots of other people you don't know too.

I think first would come a warning. A whisper in the ear, a squeeze of your wrist or waist. "Careful Princess, you're pushing it now..."

Then a glare. You might be dragged away and told to stand in the corner. It's subtle but the tinges of humiliation come up and make you giddy.

But maybe you get distracted (or Daddy does) and you wander off, only to be found nibbling on a canapé instead of your assigned corner.

"Coulda sworn I left you over there?" He grabs your wrist as you try to flee back. "Oh no no princess, don't even try it." He pulls you away from the buffet and you squeak out an apology which falls on deaf ears.

"Panties. Now" he states, loud enough for the little group nearby to hear. You feel dizzy with the heat emanating from your face but when you see he isn't playing around you shimmy them off and hand them to him as quick as possible. You watch as he inspects them, a damp patch betraying your arousal.

"You getting off on being a brat hmm? Turn you on to get punished and told off?" He says, pinching your chin and kissing you in possessive pecks. You only stutter and mumble as he kisses you more.

He gives a little wave to someone's and suddenly you are surrounded by Bucky, Steve, Natasha and Sam who tower over you. You're totally blocked from anyone else's view, but you're not alone by any means.

"What's going on? Something wrong with our pretty Printessa?" Natasha says sternly as she glares around the party, daring anyone to fuck with you. Bucky chuckles and holds up your underwear. "Yeah actually, misbehaving and horny..."

Steve chuckles and rolls his eyes at Bucky. "Oh poor you, what a tragedy this must be!" You giggle, immediately regretting it from the look Daddy gives you. "Despite her behaviour today, Princess has rules. Being a little horny slut, teasing her daddy ain't one of them."

The three of them hummed in agreement, and you bow your head in shame. No one ever took your side when you misbehaved. It was so unfair. "Well what needs to happen to make it right then? Cos princess is too pretty to be in trouble tonight Buck..." Sam said whilst squeezing your arm, and you smiled at him.

Daddy turned you around and held you against his chest so you were now face to face with his top circle. "If Princess wants to show off and make an exhibition of herself..." As he spoke he lifted the skirt of your dress and exposed you to them, "then that's what she'll be..."

They two men took the skirt from Bucky's hands and the cool air hit your pussy, a soft whine leaving your lips. Natasha hummed in approval and moved her hand over, rubbing at your pussy, squeezing and spreading you open. "So soft" she muttered before guiding your own hand down to carry on.

"Daddyyyy" you whimper but he tuts, in fact they all do and he squeezes at your breasts. "Babygirl, we're at a party. And people are going to wanna talk to me. And if they come up to me before you come, I will let them stay for the show. So the sooner you start, the less chance you got of being spotted."

You whine but lean your head back as you start to slowly circle your fingers, swirling gathering wetness over yourself. Natasha curses something in Russian as Steve and Sam adjust there view and make similar noises of approval.

"You putting on a pretty show for them babygirl? Showing what a pretty little slut you are hmm?" You nod and moan as quiet as you can, slipping a finger into your aching hole, finding hungry eyes wherever you look. Bucky slips a finger in your mouth and you suck greedily, happy to have something to muffle your noises.

"This is a punishment?" Natasha asks incredulously, her fingers unable to resist your soft, sensitive folds. You moan again, louder around his fingers as she teases you. "I'd have her red raw and begging for forgiveness, not coming around her fingers.."

Bucky chuckled at her. "I know, I'm too soft on my Princess, but her ass will be glowing by the morning and she won't be doing this again will you baby?" You whine around his fingers and choke as he sinks them deeper down your throat, walls clenching around your fingers as you teeter on the edge of bliss. Your legs shut with the pressure but Steve and Sam are on you, hooking their hand around each thigh and opening you up to Natasha's hands.

"Come baby, come for us. Show us what a dirty girl you are..."

It's enough to send your head back into Bucky's shoulder, gripping his arms as he holds your still. Your release is rubbed over your pussy and thighs, and you shiver a little until they let you go and release you back into Bucky's embrace.

"Good girl" he praises, pressing a kiss to your face, smiling as you moan for more. Natasha takes your hair and strokes it, pulling it into a ponytail and pulling gently as she leans her head on your shoulder and pressed a little kiss behind your ear.

"Why don't you show us how you thank your daddy for being so kind to you?"

You giggle and sink to your knees, feeling like the naughtiest, luckiest princess in the world...

[p0orbaby]

I love the entire squishverse (plus it's a great name), I don't know if your requests are still open. If they aren't please feel free to ignore this but if they are I had a thought.

I like picturing that Natasha and Wanda always had a connection even if they didn't realize this, so how about a prompt where baby squish is sick (so protective mama bear wanda) plus (the dad is still around but barely like right before he left) and he's around the house and wanda get's so stressed, then he leaves and Nat arrives and the moment she does Wanda visibly relaxes because nat makes her feel so much safer and wanda actually trusts Nat with squish especially since she's sick

A Helping Hand

warnings: crying, teething, dad being useless as per

a/n: there’s a couple cute moments I promise

word count: 636

-

“She’s not going down. Can you like, I don’t know, sort it?”

It was late. Wanda was tired and the throbbing headache she had behind her eyes wasn’t helping.

“She’s teething” she sighed, exasperated by her partner's lack of critical thinking. “There’s teethers in the freezer, try one of those”

“But what if she’s hungry?”

Wanda took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite her fatigue. “You watched me feed her. You literally ogled me when I was sat here half naked breastfeeding our child only ten minutes ago. She’s in pain. We have Advil drops in the kitchen”

But he just stood there, backlit from the lighting in the hallway. He looked as disheveled as she did. Hair stuck up and clothes askew. Even so, she found it hard to muster any sympathy. She was going through the same but his efforts for helping were half what hers were.

Before he could respond with whatever useless excuse he could muster up this time, there was a faint jingle of keys. A soft click of the door as it opened and closed. Wanda’s revelived sigh as Natasha entered the room.

Without missing a beat, Natasha approached Wanda’s tired form, placed a hand under her chin and maneuvered her face to inspect the damage of no sleep and a sick baby. “Hey sweetheart, I got your message”

“Romanoff” a gruff voice greeted her.

Natasha gave a curt nod in response to his greeting, her attention immediately going back to Wanda and the sounds of your cries in the other room.

In quick succession, aware that leaving the two alone too long under the circumstances was a bad idea, Natasha strode to collect you from your crib and then the teether from the freezer in one fell swoop.

“You can go now” Natasha said sternly to the lingering man in her peripheral. “I’ll take over baby duties for tonight”

She could practically see the tension in his shoulders release. His eyes lighting up at the prospect of not having to actually care for his own kid. Her own eyes slid to look at him practically vibrating where he stood. Then to Wanda’s scowl and dark circles. Then to you, to your red face puffy with tears as you sucked on the cold plastic.

“I’m gonna head over to Kyle’s, if you two are good here without me?”

It was ten in the evening.

“Yeah sure, just be quiet if you come home”

He nodded at Wanda, then walked over to her, grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. Natasha had to look away.

Wanda felt the kiss, brief and passionate, but it did little to ease her never ending frustrations with him. As he pulled away, she shot him a tired, unimpressed look. "Just go," she muttered, her voice laced with exhaustion.

He left the room without another word, and the tension in the air seemed to dissipate with his departure.

Wanda leaned against the back of the couch at the slam of the door, rubbing her temples as she watched Natasha work her magic with you. She finally mustered a small smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you”

“You’d be what you are now. Tired and in need of sleep” Natasha replied softly as she moved some wayward strands of hair from Wanda’s face. “Go, I’ve got her”

Wanda nodded, her gratitude evident in her tired eyes. She finally allowed herself to slip away from the demands of the night, trusting Natasha to take care of both her and her poorly baby. As she left the room, the weight of exhaustion bore down on her, but she knew she could rest easier now, knowing that Natasha was there to share the burden and provide the support you both needed.

[luvrrszn]

and they were roommates

COLLEGE ROOMATE!MIGUEL O'HARA x FEM READER (18+)

summary miguel o'hara is your roommate, and then he's more than that

warnings [all sexual themes are at the bottom end of the post] explicit/18+ (smut), unprotected sex, dom!miguel, not proofread

a/n (gif posted originally by @/cantstoptheimagines, can't figure out tumblr's gif shit so i'm doing this instead, hope that's okay :)) guys i'm so bad at writing smut please go easy on me also if u have requests PLEASEEE send them in i'm so bored

masterlist

"oi! you left your panties on the countertop again, you goblin! take it back!" miguel yells at you from your shared bathroom.

"my bad." you mumble, a piece of toast in your mouth as you shuffle into the bathroom, in a hurry to grab your underwear off the marble countertop.

miguel watches, amused, as you scramble to get your things together before your 8am class. it's 7:48am, and it takes you at least 15 minutes to drive to campus, and that's if you make every green light on your way there.

you're lacing up your sneakers by the door as miguel pours himself a cup of coffee. he walks over to shut the door behind you after you leave. as you run down the hallway to the elevator, he calls out after you, "buy some juice on the way back, we're out of that."

you give him a thumbs-up before disappearing around the corner.

—

you're cooking your favourite homemade meal—pesto pasta. turning off the stove, you turn around to grab a bowl from the shelves. when you turn back around, you see miguel hunched over your pan of pasta, mouth stuffed with food. YOUR food.

you slap him away from the pan, as he feigns hurt, "ow, ow, that hurts. now you gotta give me pasta to make up for it."

"you ate two bowls of instant noodles already, how are you still hungry? get away, boy." you swat his fork away.

"c'mon, please?"

you roll your eyes and give in.

you were never truly going to say no to miguel o'hara. you had cooked enough for two because you knew this was going to happen, and you knew you weren't going to say no to miguel.

—

"miguel! stop using my shampoo! and my lotion! you know they're super expensive, get your own!" you yell at him from the bathroom, inspecting the fullness—or now, emptiness of your body care products.

"hey, mami, what can i say? those are the real deal." he replies, barely looking away from his laptop.

"yeah, and they cost a shit ton. stop using my stuff and go back to your nasty 30-in-1 soap or whatever." you huff, glaring at miguel angrily.

—

saturday evenings are spent at the dining table going over the grocery list, preparing for your weekly sunday grocery runs.

saturday nights are spent on the sofa in the living room, watching a movie.

sunday mornings are spent at the grocery store, wandering down the aisles even though you've been there every sunday for the past year and a half, ever since you moved in with miguel after a mutual friend introduced the two of you upon finding out you were both looking for a roommate.

sunday noons are spent unpacking the bags of groceries, which more often that not contain bags of junk food that miguel somehow managed to sneak into the cart.

sunday afternoons are spent doing laundry. miguel loads the washing machine while you handwash the delicate pieces that require extra care. afterwards, you toss what can be put into the dryer into the dryer while miguel hangs up the rest of the clothes to dry. then, the two of you settle into a comfortable routine of folding laundry.

that's just how it was. every week, without fail.

—

the moment you fell for miguel was when you caught a horrible cold and he took care of you.

despite you trying to shoo him away multiple times, he never gave up.

"come on, princesa. you're sick, let me help you."

"i look like a hot mess right now, miguel. just leave me alone, i'll be okay." barely finishing your sentence, you broke out in a fit of coughs and wheezes.

"no can do. you're sick, so get your ass back into bed. i'll bring you some chicken soup, so for now, just rest." miguel replied, placing a bottle of water and some cold medicine on your bedside table.

when he returned, he found you curled up in your bed, duvet tucked under your chin. he placed the bowl of soup on your bedside table, before placing the back of his hand on your forehead, only to realise that you were burning up.

"take your meds, princesa. you're running a fever."

with his help, you washed your fever medicine down with a gulp of water. then, you snuggled back under the duvet. when miguel turned to leave, your hand shot out from under the duvet, grabbing his wrist. you croaked out a "stay".

without a word, miguel got into bed next to you, slipping his arm under your head. you curled into his chest, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart beating.

—

the moment miguel fell for you was when you left to visit family during summer break and he opened the refrigerator to find each shelf lined with containers of food.

you had left that morning, hand gripping your suitcase handle as you said to miguel, "try not to die, finding a new roommate with such short notice would be hard."

miguel grinned and flipped you the bird as you turned around and disappeared down the hallway to the elevator. closing the door behind him, miguel beelined for the refrigerator. maybe there was some yogurt he could have for a quick breakfast.

upon opening the refrigerator, he found that each shelf was packed containers of home-cooked meals, all prepared by you. well, that answered the question of why the apartment smelled so good when he got home last night.

there were containers of pasta, rice, chicken, salad, whatever you could think of, it was there. turning around, miguel spotted the sticky note you had left on the kitchen island. he picked up the light pink sticky note and read your note.

"seriously though, miggy. try not to die. i'd be a little sad if you did."

he couldn't help but let out a little chuckle.

—

you are the one who first confesses your feelings. on saturday night, after movie night, you gather all your courage and say, "miguel, look, i-i have to tell you something. and when i do, or even after i do, i need you to promise you won't hate me."

miguel's heart is racing. worries fill his head and his heart, and he can't help but wonder if you are going to tell him that you want to move out. he takes a deep breath, and replies steadily, "i could never hate you. go ahead, princesa."

you turn to look at miguel, and you say, "you're my best friend, and there's nothing i wouldn't do for you. you know that, right?" he nods.

taking in a shaky breath, you continue, "i like you. and it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i can't remember a time where i didn't know you, and i'm not sure i want to either. so if you don't feel the same way, can we at least still stay—"

"shut up," miguel cuts you off.

you're taken aback, stammering, "w-what?"

"just shut up," miguel repeats as he moves towards you, encasing your lips with his. you let out a slight gasp, and miguel takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

the kiss is everything you've imagined and more. it's hungry and passionate, but also gentle and reassuring. words were no longer needed; words weren't enough for miguel to express how much he liked you back.

you let miguel take control. you surrender, savouring every moment of the kiss.

and it leaves you breathless.

—

from that night on, nothing much changes. but at the same time, everything changes.

your weekend routines remain the same, but throughout the week, there's sex. so. much. sex.

miguel's sex drive is crazy, and you can barely keep up. not that you're complaining.

"miguel," you let out a breathy moan. your left hand is tangled in his hair, your right hand littering his back with scratches. miguel fucks you relentlessly, pulling his hips back and slamming into you in one fluid motion.

his hands slide downwards towards your nipple, and he toys with them, tugging gently and rubbing them between the pad of his thumb and his index finger. one of his hands slides even further downwards, and traps your clit. he rubs slow circles on it, drawing a moan past your lips.

his coordination is crazy, and you're stimulated in all the right places.

miguel senses that you're near your climax, and he speeds up, slamming into you with such tenacity that you almost believe he's in such a rush because the world might be ending in two seconds.

miguel goes faster, rougher, deeper, helping you chase your finish. the knot in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens—then it snaps. you scream miguel's name as you cum all over his cock and go limp, seeing stars from what you think might have been the best orgasm of your life.

still deep in you, miguel feels every contraction of your pussy around his cock. you tighten around him, and after two more strokes of his hips, you're milking his cock for every drop of his cum.

out of breath, you lay there on the bed while miguel cleans up the mess on the bedsheets.

—

that afternoon, as you take out the trash, you bump into your next door neighbour, mrs palma. she looks and you and chuckles, "glad the two of you finally got together, but keep it down, wouldya, sweetheart?"

you turn as red as a tomato.

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hey y'all it's another Wednesday <3 I'm scheduling this as I gotta be at the airport tomorrow morning. Probably won't be until the evening but I'm gonna carve out time to see the wips as I love seeing what everyone is doing <3 Thank you @firefly-factory for the tag this morning 🥰

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @umbracirrus @changelingsandothernonsense

@bougainvillea-and-saltwater @pocket-vvardvark @hircines-hunter @captain-of-silvenar @ladytanithia

I'm currently writing a fic called I'm only happy when I'm with you because it has Theodora/Ondolemar confessing their feelings but was the second fic I wrote for them so, they deserve better! Setting is Windhelm just after the Civil War you ever be so down bad you go to Windhelm to tell a woman you love her Suggestive part so I'll stick it under the cut

It’s not lost on Ondolemar how bizarre it is to do this here. The business of mixing work and pleasure was becoming the norm for him but, confessing his feeling inside the Temple of Talos was a newer, more deranged level of odd. Though, Theodora had tried to convince him to have a liaison inside the shrine in Markarth, citing that “No one will be there, and if they are, you get to do your civic duty.” Her incredibly sound logic was not enough to sway him into leaving the comforts of the Keep, but perhaps now, she may get what she wanted. If he ignored the obvious massive statue, the lowlight of scones could be considered romantic. For now, there was nowhere else they could be alone. Praying that things go well, he can tell her somewhere better, multiple places far mor suitable of such words.

The woman who plagues his dreams walks around, inspecting the different parts of the. simple hall. Poking her head into what was the priest’s quarters, she makes a remark. 

“Oh there’s even a bed here.” She gazes lowly at him. “How awfully convenient for us.” Walking closer, she pulls on his robes. The feeling distracts him yet again.

“Theodora, in a temple? In such a holy place? Have you no shame?” 

“You” there’s an emphasis on the word “of all people, do not get to say that. Need I remind you of your position, Thalmor Justiciar Ondolemar?” It would be  fun to give in now. His eyes floating between the hungry look in hers and her lips, imaging how good they would feel on his after months. It would be very fun to have their uniforms strewn across the temple floor, but he did not come all this way for merely fun. Regaining will, he speaks. 

“As much as I desire you right now, I have something I need to tell you first.” The look in her eyes upsets him, face slightly falling and he is quick to reassure her. “Do not fret, nothing is wrong, quite the opposite rather.”

The Thalmor had done his groveling. Drunken guilt-ridden prayers and pleads going unanswered as he was forced to contend with the gravity of the situation; he did in fact love her and the acceptability of his feelings mattered not. Grand stories always positioned love on the winning side, the side of the virtuous, how could it be wrong when the act of doing so came so effortlessly? The choice to voluntarily come all the way to Windhelm was an easy one, despite the fact this mission did not demand someone of his rank and the weather was atrocious. She would be there, that had been enough to haul himself across the province. Once accepted in himself, it would not rest until spoken. She needed to know, how desperate he was to know if she felt the same and wondered if their last discussion had been indicative that she did. Had her pain surrounding love been the start of a confession? “You told me once you do not do love. The loss of your mother, and your father’s subsequent grief left you fearful of it. I understand that, you rightly feel afraid, I see why you don’t do love,” there are small droplets forming in the corner of her eyes. Wiping them away, he continues “but I do.” Her face softens as she grasps his hand. “I have made a myriad of excuses to convince myself I do not feel what I do. It is embarrassing the lengths I went to in an effort to convince myself I felt nothing for you, that your laughter did not brighten my day, that your thoughts were not compelling, that someone I was taught to hate could never be my greatest joy. Yet, there is only one rational.” The words are caught in his throat as he turns away, needing a moment to collect himself. The fear of finally verbalizing these thoughts is eclipsed by the worry that all of this is one side. He is alone in this insanity. Looking back at her, he finds the courage, wide-eyed and lips slightly curling up. “I love you, Theodora.”

“You do?” 

“I do.” He sighs slightly, unable to meet her gaze in case of rejection. 

Logically, it would be understandable. Opposing sides, duties to their respective nations, they were very much in opposition. She was their prophesied Dragonborn, now a war hero as much as she hadn’t yearned to be. All this in addition to being the most beautiful woman in all of Tamriel. She could do far better than him, far better than an invader of her homeland but he wanted her. Selfishly wanted her even if all he could promise was love. 

“Are you certain you know what you are saying?”

“I’ve never been more so, I love you.” He reaches for her other hand, clutching them both tightly to warm them. “I know I have nothing to offer you. I cannot make you any promises about the future, I cannot be with you openly, I cannot change some of the things I have done” a small concession to remedy the things he doesn’t have the strength to speak about. In time, in time. “You deserve much better, I completely understand if you do not-” The sentence ends midway, cut off as she pulls his robes, bringing their lips together.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 21

BODY HORROR / Bonfire

Continued from day 18.

"Yuu, would you mind going to Malleus to tell him our updated plan?"

After the initial scuffle with Rollo, Yuu had managed to temporarily stun Malleus enough to get him to the rest of the party, and, after a lot of work, had managed to dispel most of the mind-altering spell that had been the source of his feral behavior.

Despite this improvement in Malleus's temperament, however, his physical form remained untouched.

The top half of his body had remained mostly untouched, per Yuu's inspection- as the resident doctor-in-training, they were the most qualified to give any sort of physical exam, and Malleus trusted them the most anyway.

Below his belly button was where things changed, however. A few fingers under it, his mammalian skin gave way to scutes, which started off lightly dotting the sides of his stomach as they took over his pelvis and morphed into a wickedly long torso, replacing his legs.

With the loss of two limbs, he gained six more. Four massive, proportionally shorter legs tipped with heavy claws held his huge torso upright, and two large wings had spouted off the draconic part of his body.

He'd gotten a better hang on control of all his parts, but Malleus seemed embarrassed and sheepish of his forcible transformation. In the end, he had only allowed Yuu to come close to him, despite the inquiries of his own party members.

Once they'd found a safer floor to crash on, Malleus had announced he was going to sit away from their base camp. He'd added on that he could watch and defend against hostile enemies, but that seemed to be more to give himself a reason to be alone, because the combined party had reassured him he didn't need to do that.

"Sure!" said Yuu, pushing themselves up off the ground.

They'd decided to sleep for the night and hunt in the morning, and then decide their next step, whether that was leaving the dungeon, going in deeper to hunt down Rollo, or staying here to fix Malleus.

Yuu began jogging, the half-dragon man sitting quite a ways away from the team.

He appeared to be fidgeting, his torso trying to lie down but impeded by the rest of his body. His face was stormy, and Yuu wondered if he would accept some blanket rolls.

"Malleus!" they shouted, and he moved his body to face them.

"Hello," he said, not quite at eye level with them. He'd towered over them in his regular form, but Yuu had to really strain their neck to look up at him.

"Hey! So we decided to sleep for the night here. You're welcome to get closer, if you want, and there's still soup on the fire if you've changed your mind.

"Thank you," he sighed wearily, "no thank you, and I have not. Please relay this to Lilia."

Yuu nodded, and jogged their way back, digesting Malleus's words.

"He said he's not hungry," said Yuu, breathing hard, "and he seems fine with the plan."

Lilia sighed. "Offer him a space here again. We can arrange it so if he thrashes at night, he needn't worry about injuring us.

Yuu nodded again, jogging back over to Malleus.

"We can put ourselves out of your range!" they huffed. "It's not a big deal, come sleep with us!"

"No, thank you," he refused. "Please impress upon Lilia that I would like to stay over here."

Yuu jogged back.

"You have to ask him again," said Lilia. "He should be with us. This is a lot for him to take in, and his self-imposed isolation is not going to do him any favors."

Yuu took a deep breath, and started jogging back.

When Malleus saw them approaching again, he said, "Stop!"

Yuu skidded to a halt.

"I do not need to be with anyone. I am fine on my own," he said, looking more and more disheveled. His shirt was ruffled, and his hair was mussed up. "Please, tell Lilia."

Yuu's shoulder's slumped. "Ok," they said, and trudged back to base camp for the last time.

The Diasomnia team dark wizard, Lilia, didn't look to happy at that, but mercifully, he started on making up his bed. Neither of the other Diasomnia team members, which were two armored knights named Silver and Sebek, looked any more pleased, but they went off to help Lilia.

Yuu decided to turn in as well, but a few hours later, a noise woke them from their slumber.

In the darkness of the tent, Yuu realized it was their lantern knocking into the tent pole that had caused the sound. Despite being a floor apparently encased in stone brick, it was surprisingly cold, and the winds were whipping.

They'd left the fire on until the very last moments, and even after that, each tent had taken a small piece of coal to place inside a special holding kettle.

Next to Yuu, Epel slept soundly, but they still placed their limbs carefully on the tent floor before exiting to check on Malleus.

For a moment, he looked still, but quickly Yuu saw his body shift in the low light.

Yuu grabbed a little pot and filled it with a few dying coals, and took their backpack and bedroll before making their way to Malleus.

"Hey!" They shouted up at his form, and Malleus shifted his great body to face them.

"Yuu," he said. "What is it?"

"Are you alright? It's really cold tonight, and I know you don't have a blanket."

Even in the near-total absence of light, Yuu could see Malleus's eyes glean in anger.

"I," he spat, "am fine. I insist. Now please, leave me alone."

He turned away harshly but stumbled a bit, losing his balance at the sudden movement.

"I just think you need a ledge," they pushed on. Malleus looked totally miserable, teeth chattering as he shivered in the wind.

"A ledge?' he said warily.

"There's one over there," they pointed. "Come on. Take me to the ledge, and I'll show you what I mean."

Malleus's hands squeezed and released. He was already nervous to be around them, much less touch them with his body, but Yuu wasn't walking anymore today.

Reluctantly, Malleus allowed Yuu to crawl onto his wing and his back, and made his way over to where Yuu pointed.

Malleus stretched out his wing again to let them off.

"Ok! So, what you need to do instead of trying to get your bottom half to lie down, is to let it sit on the floor while your upper half rests horizontally.

Yuu rolled out their bedroll on the edge of the dropoff of the mound.

"Line your body up with the wall and let your torso lie down here. It'll essentially 'store' your body, so you should be able to lie down here."

Malleus scrutinized the scene, but carefully adjusted himself until he was aligned comfortably on the bed roll.

"Thank you," he breathed, finally able to relax.

Yuu poured out the pot next to him, and the heat began radiating into the air.

"No problem!" they said cheerily, before pulling out their backpack to use as a pillow.

"Wait," said Malleus tenderly. "Where will you sleep? Surely, not on these stones."

"Most of my body is on the backpack," they admitted, though it wasn't much more comfortable.

"No. Come here, and join me."

"Malleus," they said, "there's no space! Just take it."

Malleus shook his head. "Come over to me, and we will both be more comfortable together. Come or I will take you."

Yuu rolled their eyes but trudged on over. As soon as they lay down, Malleus wrapped their arms around them and pulled them onto the bedroll with him, foiling Yuu's plan of just staying on the edge.

"There," he said, making them use his arm as a pillow. "Now, goodnight."

"G'night," said Yuu, too tired to fight back.

[castlevaniacentral]

The sunrise may never be mine

Chapter three

You quickly finished up the rest of the porridge that was left in the bowl. The taste was sweet and seasoned to perfection. You could have sworn there was hints of cinnamon.

Lowering the bowl from your mouth, you moved over to set it on the night table quietly. Watching the male enter the room once more with a newer shirt similar to the one he was wearing. Walking closer he placed the item on the bed infront of you before picking up the bowl and tray from the side table.

“How do you feel now?” He said his light yellow orbs darting over to you. His expression remained blank but oh his eyes. They couldn’t hide how he was truly feeling. A melancholy gaze held him, it held him captive. And no amount of covering up could hide that gaze of his

You stared at him quietly for a moment before your expression yourself softened for him. “Pretty…but sad” you stated softly before you reached for the shirt.

“?!“ Alucard looked taken off guard for a moment shifting his posture. His blank tired expression seemed to lighten only slightly by surprise. No, he wouldn’t fall for your tricks like he did With taka and sumi. But the way you had said it so carelessly like it held no weight behind it. Surely you were a first thought immediately say type of person.

Remaining silent he reached down to assist you putting on the shirt you were clearly struggling with. “Ash?” You asked him looking at him hopeful. Alucard in turned furrowed his brows. What did you mean by that?

Were you referring to him as ash? “No. I am Alucard.” He vaguely said

You blinked owlishly at this, you weren’t asking for his name. You wanted to know about your horse. You slowly shook your head, “ash, the horse” you said in response. Alucard buttoning the top of the shirt for you, “he’s in the stable. He’s warm for the night. “

You glanced over at the window watching the rain pour and hit against it. Once he was done helping you fix the shirt you shuffle off of the bed. Alucard staring at you cautiously. Though afraid to admit but curious as well

“You should rest you’re wearing yourself out” he stated. But instead, you weakly stumble over to the window staring at the scenery in front of you. It was beautiful, who knew that the rain could be so beautiful?

“My bread.” You mumbled quietly before looking down at your hands. If you were to leave, how could you go now knowing that you have no food for the journey.

You turn your head towards him, before facing him fully. It was hard for you to rest without ash, you had gone through your cold and hungry nights with him. He was your comfort and now that it was raining and the thunder roared in the sky. You are basically alone

Alucard sighed before his head tilted in defeat. Not only were you ridiculously stubborn, but now you barely spoke too. It was like trying to tell a cat what to do. He stood before helping you back to the bed again

“The faster you get better the faster you can see him” Setting you back down on the bed he helped you position comfortably. “But I’m ok” “I think the horse would prefer your blood didn’t ruin its hair.”

A small frown graced your lips before you sighed shakily. “Yes.” Finally allowing yourself to lay down you closed your eyes. Alucard turning to leave you in the room up rest.

-

He felt bad.

The extra wound that was inflicted was because of him. But it was only because of the magic that leaked off you, you seemed dangerous but after closer inspection. Dangerous? you definitely weren’t. He had technically stabbed a poor innocent girl. You barely spoke.

He couldn’t let you leave so soon? That would be sending you out to your death. Sure he didn’t care nor did he want to try to get involved but this was simple principle. His mother taught him a lot about that

“Good night.”

You said just before Alucard left through the doors. Stopping for a second Alucards head turned a bit to glance at you. “Hm night”

Well at least you had manners

[daffi-990]

WIP Wednesday 📝

Tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 & @thewolvesof1998

All the love for my last snippet from my Fantasy AU got the writing beans going and I got 2K written for it today ☺️.

A lot of you were so curious what happened to Bobby, so here is a snippet that explains things a bit. It’s set before the prev snippet I shared. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone and it’s a rough first draft so hopefully it reads well and makes sense. I really really wanted to share the whole 2K I wrote today because this girl loves validation, but I restrained myself so enjoy this long snippet instead xx

A pained groan from their right has Eddie shooting up quickly and moving towards-

“Bobby!” Buck is scrambling to his feet, feeling a bit like a newborn baby deer on wobbly legs as he closes the distance between them. He falls to his knees besides Eddie, who is helping Bobby sit up against a large rock. The arrow sticking out of Bobby’s side is surrounded by a sea of red that has spread across Bobby’s shirt. Eddie rips the fabric of the shirt open to reveal the entry wound, the smell of blood flooding Buck’s nose causing bile to rise in his throat that he quickly swallows back down.

“Shit.” Eddie hisses as he inspects the wound carefully.

Bobby winces in pain. “Eddie, you need to go.” His voice comes out strained, breaths sounding heavy with exertion and Buck is fucking terrified. He can’t lose Bobby. He can’t he can’t he can’t.

Eddie stills his hands, lifting his head to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Bobby- ”

“More are coming and you can’t fight them off alone.”

“I can fight.” Buck says with determination. Bobby made sure Buck was skilled in combat, and now Buck understands why. The soldiers hunting them aren’t going to stop if they best him. No, they’ll go for the killing blow. They’re battle hungry and fighting for a cause that they truly believe in, and that’s what makes them so dangerous, not the weapons or magic they’re wielding, though that certainly doesn’t help. Buck won’t deny that he’s scared, but he will not stand back and do nothing. “Bobby, I can fight. Let me protect you.” He pleads, blinking away the tears that have been building in his eyes. They trickle down his face, feeling warm and heavy with with grief.

Bobby smiles sadly at him, Eddie getting to his feet and stepping back to give them some space. “I know you can, Buck.” His hand lands on Buck’s neck, thumb a comforting weight on the hinge of his jaw. “But there’s fifteen more armed soldiers coming and the two of you can’t fight that many, not with so much at risk.” He looks pointedly at Buck now and Buck wants to scream and yell at whatever deity dealt him these cards. He closes his eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears. “You need to go. Eddie will protect you and keep you safe.”

Buck shakes his head vehemently. “No, no I’m not leaving you.” He won’t leave Bobby here to die alone, he’ll die with him if it comes down to it. Bobby saved Buck all those years ago, has been saving him every day of his life just by existing and loving him, now it’s Buck’s turn to return the favour. He opens his eyes and meets Bobby’s with a new sense of determination. He is not leaving him.

Bobby looks over Buck’s shoulder and gives a small nod of his head before strong arms are wrapping around Buck and pulling him away.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” Buck fights against Eddie’s arms, thrashing and kicking out, desperately trying to get back to Bobby. He is not leaving him. “Bobby! Don’t do this! Dad!”

“May Elrus guide your soul, Robert Nash.” Eddie says, Buck feeling the vibrations from his voice along his back before Eddie tightens his arms around Buck and then the ground beneath his feet is gone, air whipping around them as they shoot into the sky.

Buck yells, clutching onto Eddie’s arms, stomach swooping like he’s on the drop of a rollercoaster. A strong gust of wind blows and sends them soaring through the air, the shape of Bobby growing smaller and smaller until Buck can no longer see him through the haze of tears freely falling from his eyes.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @lover-of-mine @theotherbuckley @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @ladydorian05 @spagheddiediaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @giddyupbuck @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @weewootruck @steadfastsaturnsrings @captain-hen @monsterrae1 @try-set-me-on-fire @the-likesofus @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz

[yourimagines]

Sean Strickland

you and him stop talking because sean had a bad feeling about you're boyfriend...turns out he was right and a year later you show up covered in bruises with a baby.. You can write the rest..thank you!

I hope this is good and I’m sorry is a short one today

Bad feeling

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: swearing, violence, angst, fluff

Y/N POV

There I was, standing at his door of the middle of the night. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t…’ I stepped a step back from his porch. ‘This is a bad idea, let’s leave.’ I walked quietly away from his front door. The lights outside jumped on. ‘Shit, he’s awake.’ “Who’s there?” I heard a voice behind me. “Me, Sean it’s me Y/N.” I slowly turned around. “Y/N? What are your doing here in the middle of the night” Sean stood in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black plain shirt, looking like he just woke up. “I’m sorry I woke you up, I wasn’t thinking properly but now I am, just I leave you alone. I’m really sorry.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t need to leave, I’m awake now.” He shook my head. “No it’s fine, I need to go.” I slowly backed up. “Are you alright?” I slowly shook my head. He walked up to me, looking good at my face what I was trying to hide away in my hoodie. “What happened to your face?” He carefully grabbed my chin, inspecting my face. My lips started to shiver. “Did he do this to you?” I nodded, afraid to make a sound. “Come, come inside so I can help you.” “No.” “Why not, darling you need help, your nose is probably broken,you’re covered in bruises and you look like you haven’t eaten in days.” “I need to get Liam.” “Liam?” I nodded. “He’s in the car.” He looked behind me, at the car I came with. “He’s in there?” I nodded. “I’ll get him, just go inside please.” I nodded and gave him the keys. I slowly went inside and waited for him in the kitchen.

“It’s not broken, but it’s very bruised.” Sean gave me an ice pack. “Hold this against your nose, it will relieve some pain.” I grabbed it and placed it carefully against my face. Sean sat down on a chair, watching your son Liam. “He kicked you guys out or?” “No, he got arrested and I left.” He slowly nods. “I always knew that guy was mental. I’m sorry but I always had a bad feeling about him.” “I know.” I said with a small voice. He looked at me, anger was displaying on his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He stood up from his chair and rubs with his hands over his face. “Are you angry with me?” “No.” He looked at me, his hand dropping to the table. Leaning on it. “I’m just angry at myself and at that motherfucker.” He looked at Liam. “Sorry for swearing little one.” Normally I would have laughed but now I was in to much pain to even think about funny things. “Y/N this is not your fault, if I wasn’t just mad at you for choosing him over me it wouldn’t have happened.” “Don’t blame yourself Sean, we both did stupid things.” Sean softly rubbed Liam head. “Y/N my house is open for both of you. If you want you can stay here.” “Sean..” he kneeled down in front of me. “I know it might be scary, living with me an ufc Champion but I still care about you. I don’t care you have a son with him, I’ll take care both of you but please give me chance to prove it to you that I’m not like him.” He looked sincerely at me. “Okay.” I softly whispered at him. “I’m not going to hurt you or Liam.” His hands went to mine and started to trace the back of my hands. “I trust you Sean but I want to take things slow.” “I understand, I’m here when ever your ready.” I gave him a small smile. “Thank you.” “No, don’t thank me darling.” He brought my hands to his face and placed a few kisses on it.

Liam started to cry out. Sean got up and took him in his arms. “Why are you crying then. Are you hungry?” I smiled at them. “I think he pooped.” Sean stopped with the baby noises and looked at me. “How do you know?” “He made a pooping face when you took him out of his seat.” Sean carefully smelled at Liam. “Oh god he did.” He held Liam far away from him. “What do I do now?!” “You change his diaper.” He looked at me shocked. I giggled. “Let me help you.” I stood up and took Liam from him. “Okay I take care of everything except changing his poopy diapers.” I giggled as I walked to the bathroom. “I think he got that fart smell from you!” “Hey, my farts don’t smell that bad.” He laughed as I rolled my eyes. “What an idiot is Sean, isn’t he Liam.” Is said to my son in a high pitched voice. “I heard that!” Liam started to laugh. “He likes you, you’re funny.” I changed his diaper and took him to Sean. Liam was smiling like an idiot. “There he is.” Liam giggled as Sean picked him up. “He really likes me.” Liam placed his small hands on his face. “I like him too.” I smiled at them. ‘Maybe it was a good idea to come here.’

[novelsnovelsnovels]

Chapter 2

Boyhood Curse

A loud thump startled him awake.

Luric’s body reacted instinctively to the sound, curling up into a ball with both arms raised to shield his head from more blows. It took him a moment to realize he was still alone. No one had come to get him yet. A shaky sigh escaped his chapped lips, partly because of relief, partly because of anguish. He had barely woken up and already he was on the brink of tears again. But he was hurting all over, he was cold, he was hungry, and so, so scared.

They can’t do this, he thought pathetically.

There was some commotion coming from upstairs, people talking animatedly, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Though that might’ve been for the best. He didn’t want to hear what they planned on doing to him.

Luric sat up slowly, mindful of his broken ribs, and started to look around the room again. He had done so ever since they had locked him up down here, inspecting every nook and cranny of the cellar, turning over every object within his reach in hopes he could find something – anything - that could help him. If he didn’t come up with something soon-

I’m going to die.

It took every ounce of self-control to keep himself from dissolving into a wailing, trembling mess. He had to stay calm and make use of every second he had left until they came for him. He had to think of a plan. But nothing had changed since he had fallen asleep. Luric’s mind still drew a blank while his eyes searched the room from corner to corner.

There was nothing in here that he could use; just an old, rotten stand with shelves full of nothing but cracked and empty pottery, a bunch of moldy, wooden boards thrown haphazardly in one corner, and large wine casks that he couldn’t open and were too heavy to lift.

The only remotely useful thing he had found was a rusty hammer, but his enthusiasm swiftly dropped when it became clear that he had no way of holding it. They hadn’t been content with only shackles around his wrists, so they stuffed his hands inside a thick leather bag filled with linen bathed in holy water. To keep him from sprouting claws, they said. He didn’t even know how to do that. Same with his teeth. Priest Santr had taken another piece of cloth, drenched it in holy water, and shoved it so far down his throat he was afraid he was going to throw up and then suffocate. To keep his fangs from growing back, they said. He didn’t know how to do that either.

Then they had tied his mouth to keep the cloth there and thrown him in the prayhouse's cellar. But not before giving him another beating. The priest had been against it, but only because he was afraid the men - his assailants - could catch something by touching him. Apparently, he was also contagious, and could leave them cursed. Luric wished he knew how to do that.

There was one more item down here with him, but he didn’t even consider going near it. Couldn’t even bring himself to look at it properly. He didn’t want to see the stern, condemning eyes stare back at him. The painting was obviously very old, with the colors having faded away for the most part, but the figures depicted there would still be immediately recognizable to any Alcsenian. Sitting on his throne and judging silently was Protector Baar, with the young Suin on his right, and wise old Meherth on his left. He knew this image better than the back of his hand; it was found in almost every book at school, on icons in every household in Runrick, on all four walls of their prayhouse. This image used to be so commonplace, a constant presence as familiar as it was frequent. All his life, grown-ups had told him that when in need, to look towards Protector Baar for guidance, towards Suin for courage, and Meherth for wisdom. Now they told him that he had no right to do so; no right to ask for protection because he was something the Three Great Men protected real people from. Lord Baar wasn’t his protector, not anymore. He was his executioner.

The voices were clearer now, closer, accompanied by the sound of heavy, stomping footsteps growing louder and louder. They were coming for him.

Panicking, Luric looked once more around the room and made a decision. He quickly approached the stand, found the largest, heaviest vase, held it between his forearms, lifted it up, and smashed it against the floor. He then examined the broken pieces of ceramic and chose the sharpest fragment he could find. He maneuvered it with his feet, holding it up with the blunter side pointing towards him, and pushed it against the thick leather bag tied around his hands. He pushed lightly, trying not to have the piece break apart even more, until he could feel the intrusion through the thick materials, and had his fingers clamp around it as hard as he could to keep it steady. The sharp, pointy edge sticking outward.

The wave of relief he felt at this tiny accomplishment was abruptly cut short with the resounding clank of the cellar door being unlocked.

Luric’s first thought was to hide, but his only options were to either huddle behind the wooden stand or crouch between the casks. And he knew it would be pointless, because the entry was well above the basement floor, atop of a staircase, giving them a good view of the entire room. It would be foolish to think that they wouldn’t be able to spot him easily in a few seconds, and those extra seconds would serve no purpose other than to anger them even more. No, the only measly chance he had was to take them by surprise, which meant not retreating, as they probably expected him to, but attacking.

He ran up the stairs and went right to the door. He kneeled so he wouldn’t immediately be in their line of sight. Luric knew he wasn’t being fueled by courage, but by fear and desperation. And anger. He hadn’t paid attention to it before, - too much pain and grief stifling everything else - but it was there. With each shaky breath he took he became more and more aware of it, and the harder he focused on the jagged end of the shard sticking out of the leather bag, the hotter it burned inside his chest. He tightened his hands even more, making sure his hold was firm, so that he could deliver a proper thrust.

He briefly wondered who it was going to be. Was it Piltrim that was unlocking the door? He had been the one with the key last time. He had stood quietly by the side as the others beat him, before locking him up. He hoped it was Baliger. That hideous man had been the most eager with the thrashing, not even caring what the priest had said about potentially catching a curse. Luric had heard people say Baliger was not right in the head, and now Luric got to see – and feel – the depths of his depravity up close. Why was he not down here, tied up? The man had actually enjoyed beating the shit out of Luric when they caught him. Had even tried to convince everyone to hand Luric over to him, so that he’d gut him open, like he did with his pigs before winter. Yes, he hoped it was Baliger.

Whoever it ended up being, they would have to use both hands to push the heavy door open, which left the stomach an easy target. If he could manage to wound the first person enough so that they’d fall over and cause the others to jump back in fear at the sight of him, then he could try to make a run for it before they’d get their bearings. He was lucky they hadn’t thought to tie his legs as well. He’d always been a good runner; he was one of the faster kids in Runrick and even wounded, he doubted there were any adults that could keep up with him at full speed. He only had to reach the woods before they caught him; no one would follow him in there so close to nightfall. Not anymore.

They were taking their time, talking nervously among themselves. He could understand them now. Baliger was there; he was trying to convince them to let him have few minutes alone with Luric. Piltrim and Suisel were there too, arguing fervently against it. Were there only three this time? Suddenly all of them went silent. He heard light footsteps come to a halt. Someone else had joined them.

“Our apologies, Sir, we didn’t mean to take so long. We’ll get’im right out,” he heard Piltrim say with a trembling voice. But to whom? It couldn’t be the priest, because Piltrim didn’t call him ‘Sir’? Was it the Chief? No, Chief Slatrim wouldn’t have been so quiet.

There was a creak as the door finally began to move.

It was Piltrim pushing it.

His right arm came into view as the amber light from the torch behind him started spilling into the room and around Luric. He was sitting in Piltrim’s shadow, so he didn’t get spotted right away. He had to make his move before Piltrim’s eyes could adjust to the darkness, but just as he started to tense his legs, Piltrim got grabbed by an arm and shoved to the side.

Storming inside now was Baliger. He was the one holding the torch, so when he entered, the entire platform Luric was on lit up.

“Where are ya, ya little-”

And then Baliger saw him. In that split second Luric noticed Baliger’s expression change from fury to surprise, and he understood he had to act before it settled on comprehension. There was something else Luric noticed; one hand was busy with the torch, the other still pushing Piltrim behind him. His entire stomach wide open.

Perfect.

He lunged.

Luric forced every muscle in his lower body and propelled himself forward, arms stretched in front of him and pointed directly at Baliger’s big, fat belly. Despite everything, he closed his eyes as he heard Baliger’s grunt of shock turn into a scream. He didn’t feel the shard go in, but it must have, because Baliger stumbled backwards and fell to the ground holding his stomach. There was a brief flash of white as the torch got whipped around and then dropped to the floor, shadows twisting and convulsing along the walls of the hallway and then freezing still in long, dark strokes when it stopped rolling.

As he had hoped, Piltrim and Suisel glued their backs to the wall to get as far away from him as possible. With the poor lighting they probably thought that he had managed to get his restraints off and had attacked using his claws or something. He had to move before they realized he was completely defenseless now. The shard had shattered to pieces when he stabbed Baliger with it. He could only pray enough of it got lodged in Baliger’s flesh to keep him writhing on the floor.

There was a figure standing in the middle of the hall a little further away, the light not quite reaching them. The mystery person. And they didn’t seem at all shaken by what had just happened before them, giving no sign of whether they intended to withdraw or come at him. Which meant Luric would have to push past them to get out. It was risky, but he had no choice.

Luric sprinted, rushing straight towards the figure. If he could gain enough momentum he might be able to intimidate the person into moving out of his way, or he could trick them into thinking he was about to ram into them, and then, at the last second, plunge into the space between them and the wall. He’d decide when he got there.

Not even four steps into his run he felt something grab his ankle, making him lose his footing, and fall face-first to the hard floor. When he turned to look behind him he saw Baliger’s face grimace back at him.

Kick it! he immediately thought. Kick his fucking teeth in!

Luric drew his right knee up, prepared to punt the ugly bastard right in the nose, but Baliger raised his other arm and grabbed his right leg too. He tried to wrench himself free, only Baliger’s hold was firm and painful. Without letting go, Baliger got up on his knees, grunting and swearing, then dragged Luric’s body underneath him. There was no blood on his tunic. The stab had done no real damage.

I should’ve gone for his throat!

Baliger braced one large hand against Luric’s neck, not really tightening, but letting his entire weight push down on his windpipe. Luric looked up at him, trying desperately to hit Baliger’s face, his neck, his armpit, any soft, vulnerable place he could reach, but with the thick leather bag constricting his movement the only thing he could manage were weak, dull punches against his chest that resonated pathetically in the hall. The right side of Baliger’s face was glowing from the light of the discarded torch, blotches of red marring his cheeks and forehead. He was staring down at him like a mad man, eyes large with fury, the whites visible even in the darkness. He curled his lips back in a fierce snarl, revealing his crooked, broken teeth. Luric had seen drawings of demons before, and none had come close to what was before him now.

I’m supposed to be something worse than this?

“Ya think ya so smart, ya little shit!? Think ya got me, huh!?” Baliger growled.

Luric had been so focused on Baliger’s face that he hadn’t notice the fist looming above it until it hit and smashed his head against the floor. There was no pain at first; the punch hadn’t made him lose consciousness, but it must’ve have knocked his senses out of whack because for a few moments white was all he saw, heard, and felt. But the pain inevitably came, and the lack of air made him see everything through a thick haze he just couldn’t shake off. He was about to pass out.

Maybe it was better this way. If there was no longer a way for him to escape, then maybe he should at least not be awake when they killed him. He could just silently slip away into the darkness now, instead of kicking, screaming and crying at his captors. He wouldn’t have to see them drag him around the square, all of them mumbling, judging and rejoicing as they witnessed his death. People he’d grown up around. Who he’d known all his life. Who he had talked with, shared meals with, and had done chores for in order to get them to like him a little. They hadn’t been forgiving to his kind Mrs. Carshtin, so Luric should not expect any mercy for him. The townsfolk had always been mistrustful of him; the strange, sickly looking orphan that lived at school. And now they finally found their reason to get rid of him.

No, he wanted to be awake. Through all of it. To watch them as they watched him die. And if there really was something in him that could leave behind a curse, then he hoped with every fiber of his being that it was listening, because Luric wished them all the misery and heartache in the world. It was only fair.

He started struggling again, and put the last remnants of his strength and energy into thumping his fists against Baliger’s face. One black eye, that was all he was asking for. But his feeble flailing only pissed off Baliger even more, and his face somehow managed to distort further into grotesque fury. He raised his fist to strike Luric again, and this time Luric knew - knew from the way Baliger coiled his arm all the way back, to the way he balled up his hand so tightly that he could practically hear his skin creak, to the way he was shaking with anticipation - that he wasn’t going to survive this. Even if the force of this punch wasn’t going to splatter his brains all over the floor, Baliger was going to hit and hit until there would be nothing left of his head. He had seen what this man did with his pigs.

So much for cursing them to their faces. He wished he could do it from here, but right now he couldn’t even scrunch up enough malice to wish frog warts on them, because what he felt as he stared up at the large, fat fist that was about to end him was tired, defeated and sad.

He saw the fist twitch, and Luric closed his eyes.

Please, just let one be enough!

But the hit never came.

Luric felt Baliger’s body shake, and go suddenly still. He heard him give a disgruntled cry.

“Wha -?”

Luric opened his eyes. Above him he saw Baliger’s upper body twisted upwards, no longer facing him, head turned to look up at … a man. A man Luric didn’t recognize, but then again, he couldn’t get a good look at him from his position. He was standing right next to his head and towering over Baliger, who was blocking most of his view of the stranger. The figure from before?

Luric gazed up along the line of the long, black coat of the man, all the way up to his shoulders where his dark shape blended with the shadows on the ceiling. He followed it to the black-clad arm that had sprouted from his coat and was now gripping Baliger’s fist and keeping it in place.

A harsh, hoarse voice spoke.“What do you think you’re doing?”

Before Baliger could answer, another arm shot out, grabbed Baliger by the back of his tunic, hauled him up and tossed him out view so suddenly it took a moment for Luric to register the change in scenery. He barely had time to appreciate being able to breathe again, before the man turned and bend over him. He was now staring at an unfamiliar long, pale, hollow cheeked face scowling down at him.

The man gave him a brief one over as if to assess the damage and then spoke again, just as harshly. “You’ll live.”

He saw an open palm descend on him and Luric closed his eyes again, but all he felt was the stranger’s fingers close around the front of shirt, grabbing a handful, and then hoist him up on his feet. From the corner of his eyes he caught Baliger’s form crumbled on the ground, staring bewilderingly up at them.

“Can you walk?” the man asked.

Luric didn’t know; he couldn’t test the strength in his own legs because the stranger was still holding him up by the shirt, so high that his toes were barely touching the ground. Even slightly bent as he was now, the man still looked about twice Luric’s size, and Luric wasn’t short for his age. All he could do was stare at him, too afraid to move.

The man’s frown deepened as he then lowered his head to have a better look at Luric’s face. He groaned at the sight of the gag, and with one fast, sudden movement ripped it off. But Luric still couldn’t talk; the cloth had been lodged so tightly and so far down his throat he wouldn’t be able to get it out without the use of his hands. The stranger looked at him again, sneered, and shoved his fingers in Luric’s mouth to take out the material. As he felt it slide out he heard Piltrim’s panicked words. “Sir! You sh-shouldn’t!”

“Shouldn’t what?” came the gruff response. The man held the cloth between his thumb and forefinger, and looked at it in disgust. “What is this?”

A second of confused silence and then Piltrim spoke again “Priest Santr said it was to keep‘im from turning.”

“And how in the fuck is a scrap of cloth supposed to do that?”

“It had holy water, Sir.”

The man shook his head and casually threw the piece of cloth at Piltrim, who recoiled as if burned.

“Backwater morons,” he heard the man grumble. And then all his attention was back on Luric. “Can you talk, boy?”

Luric had been coughing and massaging his sore jaw, not sure if he could still feel and move his tongue, so all he could manage at that moment for an answer was “Ah-uh…”

The stranger just shrugged. “Good enough.” And then grabbed him by the scruff roughlyand started pushing him.

Luric was so dizzy he couldn’t tell which direction they were heading. Did the man plan on throwing him back in the cellar? Everything was going by in a dark blur, and if it hadn’t been for the hold on his neck he probably would’ve tumbled over. Hurried steps along the hallway, up a short flight of stairs quickly, a shove, and then daylight hit him in the face.

After two days of darkness, even the gentle late afternoon sunlight illuminating the nave of the prayhouse was enough to hurt Luric’s eyes, and he needed a few seconds to clear his sight.

The first thing he noticed after he blinked the tears away was that the house was full of people, and everyone was staring at him. The second thing the noticed was that the crowd was very distinctly split into two groups. On the right side, standing almost in a huddle towards the center of the prayhouse and gaping horrified at him were the townsfolk. On the left, closer to the entrance, were several other strange men, all dressed with the same black cloak the man behind was wearing. The third thing he noticed was…..

Blue.

A brilliant, bright blue, such as he had never seen before in all his life. Not on the petals of field flowers, not on expensive paintings in the merchants’ houses. He was so taken aback by the intensity of the color that at first, he didn’t even realize what it was that he was looking at. Or who he was looking at.

The color belonged to a long mantle that was hanging off of the shoulders of a tall, slim figure. On top of those shoulders glimmered a crown of golden locks brought up in a fancy-looking bun like he’d seen in pictures of city ladies. Girls around here sometimes tried to imitate the style, but to him they always looked as if they were wearing nesting hens on their heads. Nothing like the neat, dignified twirl of clean, glistening tresses he was seeing now. The woman had her back to them, and she seemed to be studying the chipped-off murals on the wall in front of her.

The man behind him spoke. “I brought him, my lady.”

The woman - no, lady - finally turned. She wasn’t young - well past marrying age - but she was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Two long ringlets of hair were flowing down her temple and brushing against pale, defined cheekbones. Her features were sharp, but there was a delicateness to them that somehow made her seem both dainty as well as imposing. She had a long, straight nose, and her brow was decorated with thin, arched eyebrows. Her chin was pointy and slightly protruding forward, and her lips were a peach colored line that was barely visible on her otherwise ghostly white skin. But her eyes were large and round, soft with kindness and understanding when she looked at him.

That, most of all, shook Luric to the very core, and for some reason, felt the need to latch onto her like a lifeline. But he didn’t know her. He didn’t know any of these people. The only people he knew were the ones on the right side of the room, and they all wanted him dead. Who were they? What was going on?

The woman tooks a few steps towards him, but stopped when Chief Slatrim’s voice blared through the room.

“Careful, m’lady! We roughed’im up well, but he may still be dangerous.” He extracted himself from the group of cowering people reluctantly, but mindful not to get too close to either the lady or Luric.

Without taking her eyes of him, the lady answered the magistrate. “Yes, I can see you did quite a number on this poor boy.”

“This ain’t no poor boy, m’lady. It’s the demon child we told you about. Shulffa’s fuckin’ spawn, right here in our town. Pardon my language.”

She did turn to look at him at that. Not just at Chief Slatrim, but at all of them. And then she turned back to Luric for a brief second, before raising her eyes to address the man standing behind him in a stern, commanding voice. “Take off the shackles.”

Shocked murmurs broke out among the townsfolk, men, women and children shifting frantically and looking at each other in worry. Chief spoke again.

“I-is that wise, my lady?”

“Fear not. These gentlemen I have with me are the most experienced warriors when it comes to dealing with a Blighted.”

“Blighted?”

She turned back to the magistrate, and smiled at him. Coldly. Luric couldn’t help but feel that she was subtlety mocking him.

“It’s what people like him are called in our profession.”

“But - I don’t understand. He ain’t people. That’s a monster.”

The lady just stared at him quietly until Chief Slatrim started to look uncomfortable and averted his gaze, as if he was ashamed of something.

Slatrim had been town magistrate since long before Luric had been born. A single-minded and inflexible old man that held the entire town in his firm grip. He was unusually short and skinny for a north-born, with ashen skin that reminded Luric of dried up tree bark, thin grey-white hair, and small, beady eyes that were only really visible underneath those heavy wrinkled eyelids when they lit up in anger. To Luric, he had always looked ill and weak, but what he may have lacked in physical capability he more than made up for in fierceness and fortitude. Luric had seen hunters and wood men that could have picked him up with one hand cower before this stern gaze and admonition.

There weren’t many people in Runrick that would stand up to him, and only Priest Santr and the head-merchant Olvic had the power to sway his mind. Like when Slatrim wanted to close down their school because he saw no reason for Runrick's children to waste their time on being taught things they’d have no real use for, like reading and studying numbers, instead of helping their own parents around the household and learning the family trade. Mr. Carshtin had vehemently opposed him, but it had been Priest Santr’s argument that everyone should have the privilege to read Baar’s book whenever they wished, and Olvic’s reasoning that it would help with collecting taxes correctly, that ultimately settled the matter. But he had never forgiven the teacher for his public opposition, and the consequences of getting on the magistrate’s bad side had been dire. There was no doubt in his mind that Chief Slatrim had a hand in Mr. Carshtin’s death.

But the person Chief Slatrim was facing now wasn’t someone he could intimidate, and it was obvious he wasn’t used to dealing with people that were above his station and demanded humility from him. The lady was clearly a noble. Everything about her, from her fine clothes, to her poise, to her mannerism spoke of the power and wealth of the midland and southern provinces, possibly even the capital, and that alone was enough to make any small town lowborn bow their head. The group of armed men hovering protectively around her probably helped too.

It was obvious to everyone in the room that she was the one in charge here.

But Slatrim was nothing if not persistent, and he wouldn’t back down so easily.

“Forgive us, m ’lady. We have thrown away the key. We wanted to make sure there was no way for him to get out and he was supposed to remain with those until we were sure he was dead. For the safety of my people.”

Another long, uncomfortable pause.

“I see. How very cautious of you.” And then she turned back to Luric and her smile took on a hint of mischievousness. “Mr. Visloc? If you please.”

A surprised grunt came from behind him. “What? Now? Here?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

The way the hand on his nape tightened momentarily made Luric think that the lady’s words were merely a courtesy rather than an option for the man. The man - Mr. Visloc? - grumbled, and he could’ve sworn he heard the word “bitch” somewhere in there, before he stepped around and turned to face him. He was standing so close that the width of his chest filled up Luric’s entire view. He was hunching over slightly with his back to their audience, almost as if he wanted to shield Luric from their scrutiny with the size of his body alone. Luric stood completely immersed in the man’s shadow. He gathered his courage and raised his eyes to get his first good look at him.

The man looked even scarier in the light than it did when darkness had muddled his features. He was the tallest man he had ever seen, and Luric had lived all his life around tall and big-boned people. But it wasn’t his size that Luric found most unsettling. Everything about him seemed somehow elongated, including his face. It was long and drawn-out, with deep hollow cheeks and a prominent hook nose. There were deep wrinkles around his mouth, and the way his lips were drawn up in displeasure made it very clear that those weren’t laugh lines. Thin, greasy tendrils of mud-colored hair were hanging around his face and off his shoulders in a disarranged fashion. What struck Luric the most, however, were the man’s brows, or more precisely, his lack of eyebrows; what he had instead was a protruding brow ridge that seemed to be etched in a permanent scowl. He had never seen a person without eyebrows before, and it made the man’s already alien-looking visage even more frightening. Inhuman, was the word that came to mind, but he tried to will it, and what else it implied, away. Underneath the heavily furrowed brow were two large eyes, each dotted with strangely small irises; like little black pinpricks that fixed him in place with the intensity of their stare. Eyes like that would usually hint at an unstable mind, but despite everything, the man didn’t strike Luric as mad. Just really angry, and that was only marginally better.

“You better keep quiet, you hear,” the man growled and then hunched even more, raising his shoulders slightly and dipping his head further. Suddenly Luric got the impression that rather than trying to cover him, the man was trying to shrink and hide himself behind his own mantle.

And then he felt a rumble.

Where exactly it was coming from he couldn’t tell, but his body responded regardless. An unexpected agitation rose up inside of him and he started shaking violently, breath caught in his throat. He knew now what this was. Luric had yet to come to terms with it, and as much as he believed he didn’t deserve to die because of it, he at least accepted that there really was something wrong with him. Something wrong in him. It always started in the pit of his stomach and spread from there uncontrollably all over inside his chest, radiating outwards until he felt it in the tips of his fingers. Sometimes even further than that. The last time he had felt like this was right before they found him. He had been hiding behind a pile of logs when he sensed the townsfolk surrounding him, and the closer they came, the stronger the sensation got. Instincts he couldn’t quite understand or control were warning him then, and they were warning him now too.

He had to get away from this person at all cost, but before he could dart backwards two large hands clamped around the cuffs, and he froze. Large, as in larger than they had been before. And way whiter than they were supposed to be. They looked corpse pale, with bulging blue veins snaking towards and between large knuckles. The fingers were so long he could have sworn they had one too many joints now.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. He felt something shift above him, a movement his awareness deemed so unnatural it made his skin crawl. Without looking, he knew the man was still hunching over him, and had not moved a single muscle, and yet there he was, somehow rising further in height. He kept his eyes glued to the hands, too afraid to witness whatever it was that was happening over his head. With his vision pointed downwards, he caught sight of the edge of the man’s shadow moving, its girth growing in size. The man was turning. Into what, he didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. If this was how they decided to have him killed, he’d rather not have his last image in life be that of a grotesque monstrosity.

Unlike with Baliger, he didn’t even attempt to struggle against this, and closed his eyes for the second time in frightened resignation, waiting for whatever it was that was about to happen to be over.

“Oh, will you stop being so god-dammed dramatic.”

The voice still sounded the same. Still deep and hoarse and human. That was somewhat reassuring. But before he could start mulling over the meaning of the man’s words, a loud sound pierced the silence. A powerful crack, and then he felt cold pressure around his wrists. Maybe the man had broken his arms and the pain had yet to reach. But what followed wasn’t pain. Instead, he felt a gradual warmth replacing the clammy coldness, and a series of small metallic clings resonated as pieces of something were hitting the floor around his feet.

He opened his eyes.

The hands were back to normal. Still large, still dirty and calloused, but normal. The warmth was coming from the man’s palms that were now wrapped directly around his skin. Laying in pieces on the ground were his shackles. The man then gripped the sides of the leather bag tied around Luric’s hands, and in one try, ripped the material in half.

Luric stared at his bruised and swollen limbs in amazement.

The man – Mr. Visloc - straightened and turned around to reveal Luric’s form to the lady.

“Happy?” he grunted in annoyance.

She only smiled in return.

“Oh, mother’s love, why would they do that?” a woman wailed. Mrs. Lasre, the butcher’s wife?

The sight of him out and unbound had sent the townsfolk in a frenzy, some running to stand closer to Baar’s shrine, others making a start towards the exit, but stopping when they realized that the lady and her group of men were standing between them and the door. Luric would’ve been lying if he said that he didn’t get any satisfaction from watching them shake and whimper pathetically like that. His eyes didn’t linger on them for long, and instead were drawn back to the lady’s dazzling figure.

She was watching them too, her head slightly turned in their direction, glancing at them from the corner of her eyes. She seemed to take some delight in their discomfort as well. When her eyes glided back to look at him her smile widened; he felt like they were sharing a private joke.

It was Priest Santr’s turn now to disentangle himself from the gaggle of squirming people. He stepped forward boldly, back stiff and head held high, all the while throwing a steely glare in Luric’s direction.

“Please forgive us, my lady. We are a community of poor and simple mountain people. We are so often at the mercy of the forest and the darkness that dwells within it, and with only our faith and this house to serve as protection. The king’s well-meaning oversight seldom reaches us, and we are often left to fend for ourselves. I had heard from my brethren in Pelase about an official decree to inform the prelacy of any apparitions and cursed men, and I did send a letter a few days ago when the boy’s true nature revealed itself. We just didn’t expect to receive any help so soon and chose to take matters into our own hands so no more of our people could fall victim to him. This is …the only way we know how.”

“And just how many have fallen victim to him?”

The lady’s prompt and dispassionate reaction to his little hardship tale left the priest a little flustered, and he paused for a moment to consider her question. He licked his lips nervously and stuttered a reply.

“There was – well, that is - he hasn’t yet, uhm - oh, Carshtin! He-he killed the teacher. The man that raised him, accepted him as family, was eaten by this wretched creature.”

“LIAR!”

It felt like he had made the very walls shake with the force of his outburst, but he knew that it was just his own flesh that was trembling in uncontrolled rage. Something was rising in his chest again, but this was a familiar sensation that he recognized and understood well. And it was human. He had been living with muted anger lingering in the depths of his soul for years, occasionally lapping at the edges of his consciousness when things got bad, but he always tried to snuff it before it could consume his mind. Mr. Carshtin had always told him a clear and calm head was what separated them from the brutes that always picked on him, so he tried to live by his guardian’s rule. Also, when you’re small and weak you can’t afford to act up whenever you want. Stay quiet, stay alive. But staying alive was off the table now, so what use did he have now for impulse control?

It was just too much. The pain, the fear, the cruelty, the unapologetic unfairness wrought upon him by these people, and now hearing this out-right brazen lie accompanied by murmurs of agreement whispered behind the priest. Did they expect him to say nothing? To stand by quietly and docile, as they spouted their self-serving bullshit? Not this time. This time he’d let the flames run rampant through him, because Luric didn’t care anymore about how all of this would end for him. This entire miserable debacle had been an unending lineup of agony and despair, and every time anything that gave him hope presented itself, it was quickly followed by a blow that left him reeling in disillusionment. Like these strange people that took off his restraints and smiled kindly at him.

They were sent by the clergy, or some other high and important people, but apparently, they were executioners too. They just had nicer clothes. This meant that it didn’t matter what he said, how he said it, or if it was true or not. His fate was already decided. Luric couldn’t keep the bile raging inside from spilling out anymore, so he might as well have this one final moment of catharsis.

Every eye was on him now, and he met their frozen stares with fearless accusation.

“You fucking liars! How dare you!? You killed him! All of you! You beat him! An defenseless man! Then left him bedridden, and abandoned him to die alone and in pain.” With every blared word in their direction, he saw them draw back in terror more and more, as if being the target of his verbal barrage alone was dangerous. He enjoyed watching them squirm. It was the least they deserved. He couldn’t hurt them with his claws and fangs, but he would settled for seeing them piss themselves like this.

He then turned to the lady in blue, eyes wide with desperation. For some reason he wanted for her to know his side of the story, regardless of what she intended to do with him.

“All I did was scratch someone. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know I could - that I had these… They were pushing me around and I got angry. But it was an accident, alright?! I didn’t know I could – change . But they didn’t care, so I ran into the woods to hide. They told Mr. Carshtin they would help him look for me, but they only wanted to lure him away from the town to beat him up. They told everyone I was the one that attacked him, and no one came to tend to his wounds because they all thought I had cursed him too. Chief Slatrim and Priest Santr! They killed him! They hated our teacher because he wasn’t as stupid as them, and people started to want to listen to him more than them.”

Luric was breathing hard now. He had poured every ounce of his anguish filled heart into his outburst, and the ferocity of his cry had rendered his abused throat raw with pain. He felt liquid build up in the back of it and wondered if he had somehow managed to rip something inside that was now bleeding. But he wasn’t done. He wanted to continue yelling at them, to have them cower before his fury. To make sure they would have nightmares about him for the rest of their lives.

That’s right, I need to place a curse on them!

He had no idea of how it worked, but he was pretty sure that they didn’t either. If he told them that he had placed a curse on them, they’d believe him, and he’d leave this world knowing that they’d fret and agonize over what great misfortune would befall on them because of him. And it would, regardless of whether he had these powers or not. It was only a matter of time until something terrible would happen, because life around these parts was harsh and bleak. Some sort of disease, a landslide, a long and devastating winter that would take many lives; he had lived through trying times himself in his twelve years and he had seen how people reacted. They would think it was Luric’s vengeance damning them. They would think they had make a mistake in killing him, that they should have left him alone instead, and they would blame Slatrim and Santr for bringing this upon them. That thought alone gave him some comfort.

He fixed them with the most hate-filled glare he could muster, and though it hurt to talk he drew in a deep breath and pushed the words forward.

“I hope you all will get to feel the same pain that you’ve caused me. No, I want you to experience it tenfold. To have everything taken from you, to be beaten down and spit on, and have no one to come help you. You idiotic, heartless bastards.” They were writhing and whimpering - he could even hear someone sobbing - and a desperate plea for someone to stop him from continuing. It only spurred him on. “May the rest of your pathetic, miserable lives to be filled with only agony and rotten luck. Oh yeah, and death too.” He finished with a bitter grin. “It’s only fair.”

He hadn’t felt so exhilarated in forever, the satisfying thrill washing over him and leaving his skin tingling. He didn’t want it to be over. He deserved more of this. It wasn’t just about what they’d done to him these past few days, they had treated him like crap all his life.

Orphans were outcasts, touched by misfortune from birth, and no one really wanted them around. Especially the unfriendly, pale little boy that fell ill so often. Years of pent up frustration couldn’t be compiled into a few spiteful words; he had opened the floodgates, and the discharge felt amazing. What else should he say? What was the worst thing he could tell them? Oh, yeah!

“May Shulffa’s eyes be forever on you, her talons picking at your threads, your tears her nourishme- ”

Something hit him in the head, hard and loud, and he tumbled backwards landing on his behind. Bright pain flared sharply at the side of his temple where the object had struck, making his eyes tear up behind tightly shut lids. Had Mr. Visloc punched him to make him shut up? When he opened his eyes he saw the tall man look down at him in surprise and the whip his head in the direction of the townspeople. Next to his feet was a small rock, just barely larger than a pebble, round and dull, but it had been thrown with such a force that he thought it might have left a dent in his scalp. He sat there, a hand on his throbbing head, looking at the rock, stunned.

And just like that, all his momentum fizzled out and disappeared, leaving behind a state of utter bewilderment. He could already feel it slowly being replaced back with the dread of his impending doom that he had come to know so well these past few days, and it brought with it tears of shock and crippling fear. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, not yet…. He couldn’t afford to look pathetic now, lest it take away from the impact he hoped his words had had on them.

It was out of sheer curiosity that he looked to see who had thrown the rock. A boy around his age had emerged from the huddle and was glaring at him.

He should have known. Who else could it have been, aside from Runrick's brave little champion?

True to his self-proclaimed righteousness, Buck stood imposingly between him and the people he had come forth to protect. His face was set in a grim and confident expression, slightly upturned to stare him down, but the wideness of his eyes betrayed the courage he was trying to exude with all of his body. Nevertheless, he had come far closer to him than either Chief Slatrim or Priest Santr had dared.

Whatever Luric thought about the boy's obnoxious sense of self-worth and his childish dreams of gallantry and heroism, Buck at least did all he could to live up to them. He was everything Luric was not. Spirited, hardy, overly passionate, but in a way that most found charming instead of annoying. His antics were tolerated, and even applauded, because he was an amusing and honest kid. And he was brave.

Last year, he had illicitly participated in Suin’s trial, a contest meant only for the young men of Runrick as a rite of passage into manhood. Buck had jumped in the ice-cold waters of the recently defrosted lake before anyone was able to stop him, but then had swum faster and surer than any of the older boys, and won. He was the one to retrieve the wooden sword and bring it back to Priest Santr. His face and behind got slapped thoroughly for his insolence, and he was made to stand there in the cold late winter air, wet and naked, while they tossed Suin’s sword in the lake again and until one of the young men brought it back. He hadn’t been as fast as Buck, though.

His parents, the priest, Chief Slatrim, and other grown-ups, all had severely chastised him, but Luric had also heard them praise him under their breath. A child had to be disciplined, be respectful of his elders, but boldness was an admirable trait if it was backed up by strength and skill. Luric had looked at Buck while he had been standing there, freezing and bruised, and noticed that the self-satisfied smile never left his lips, even as they were turning blue from the cold. He was cocky. Buck never backed down from a challenge and could hold his own in a schoolyard fight. He had all the makings of a fine northerner, and would grow up to be a great man. All the adults said so. Even his parents had given him a name that preordained how he would turn out: Buckcrown. It suited him well, even if it was a little old-fashioned and presumptuous.

In a way, Luric looked up to him as much as he resented him. He was funny and fun to be around, and everybody wanted to be his friend. Luric was no exception. But Buck and his friends barely knew he existed.

He would often look forlornly at their hassle and horseplay in the schoolyard, trying to convince himself that he didn’t want to be asked to join in. He’d pretend to read his book at the base of the large beech tree, but he’d glimpse at the other kids more often than not.

He and the other orphans didn’t fit in so well, even though the school was technically their home. Mr. Carshtin never differentiated between his wards and the other kids during learning hours; everyone was his student then. Being a little friendlier with the host would’ve been a nice courtesy, Luric often thought sourly. And unless a serious fight broke out, Mr. Carshtin never intervened in the children’s dealings. He gave advice, he encouraged you, but he wanted you to learn to deal with your peers on your own. That was his way. Which is why Luric also never went to Mr. Carshtin when someone was picking on him. Izver, usually.

There were plenty of kids that were mean to him, but Izver was his only real bully; a brash, impetuous brute that tried a lot to be like Buck, only he was completely unlikeable. If you didn’t look too closely, Buck and Izver might appear to be best friends, always together, with the same ideas and attitude, but Luric did look closer and therefore knew better. Izver was jealous of Buck. Under the guise of camaraderie, Izver would always challenge Buck to games that pitted one against the other. He rarely won. And every time he failed to match up to his rival, Izver looked for someone to take out his anger on.

Luric wasn’t his favorite target, but he went after him often enough. Luric would sometimes even provoke him, because Izver’s favorite target was Sivale. Sivale was an orphan like him; a meek and gentle boy that never did anything to deserve anyone’s ire. He might even consider Sivale his best friend of sorts, even though he knew they hung out together mostly because no one else would. Outcasts of a feather.

And Luric could run. When he was in good health, Luric was a fast runner. Faster than Izver in any case, maybe even faster than Buck. One of the few times Buck had talked to him was when he had literally run Izver ragged around town chasing after him; Luric had thrown a mud ball at his face to get him to back off of Sivale. Buck had complimented him for his speed and for sticking up for his friend. As much as he was ashamed to admit it, it was one of the best moments of his life. Buck noticing him and praising him. He went on to imagine getting closer to Buck, maybe even challenging him to a race. If he won, he might win Buck’s respect too. Or even his friendship. He might become friends with the other kids as well.

Luric fancied himself a cerebral loner, who didn’t need the companionship of rowdy brats, but one lousy compliment had turned him into a giddy, hopeful fool.

Come to think of it, this was how it all began. Trying to get Buck’s attention again. Weeks went by and nothing changed. Luric was still sitting alone at the base of the tree, Buck running around completely oblivious to his existence. It was painful, having all his hopes shattered like that. If he had only known how much worse things could be, he would’ve stayed put under that tree. But no one could’ve foreseen the turn of events, so he made the wrong decision. Luric put his book down, walked out of the shadows and into the center of the schoolyard.

He was feeling great that day. In fact, he had been unusually energetic for a while now. Maybe he was finally growing out of those strange bouts of weakness that struck him so often. He was heading for Buck, who had stopped running to look at him as he approached. Luric was finally going to issue the challenge, race him, and win. And then everything would change for the better. He was certain of it.

But before he could even raise his hand in greeting, a violent push from behind sent him flying.

Most were already giggling by the time he removed his face from the dirt. When he turned around he saw Izver. “What ya think ya doin’, ya little sheep shit?! Go back t’ya tree!” And that’s what he should’ve done. Kept his mouth shut, and left. What he did instead was shoot up to his feet, and push Izver back, hard.

Izver was a little shorter than him, but broader, sturdier. Imagine his surprise when he saw Izver actually stumble backwards until he fell just as gracelessly. This time they all gasped, including Izver. Then the giggling started, and Izver face turned red from rage.

“Ya gonna pay for that, Lulu!”

Gods, he hated that nickname. He was going to make Izver regret calling him that. He was going to make him regret everything he ever did to him. Luric was done running away, done with staying quiet and hidden because people were uncomfortable around him. What had he ever done besides get abandoned as a baby and then be sick all the time? None of that was his fault. Izver was mean and rude and stupid, yet he had more friends than him, had better clothes than him, had a real home and parents that loved him despite his ugly, bloated mug.

It’s not fair!

Izver got up to his feet and rushed him. He knocked into Luric and both went tumbling down. It occurred very late to Luric that he had no idea how to fight, and Izver was always in one skirmish or another. He was also heavier, so Luric couldn’t push him off. All he could do was bring up his forearms to shield himself from the onslaught of random punches Izver was blindly throwing at him. When he got tired of that, he grabbed Luric by the hair and started shaking.

Luric didn’t know what to do. Between the pain and the fear and the shame he had no time to think of a way to escape. If he tried to hit Izver back he’d leave his face wide open for his punches. What if he lost an eye? He wouldn’t be able to read anymore.

Izver started pulling even harder, dragged him by the hair until his upper back arched away from the ground. He was being held up by his hair alone, and it felt like the skin on his head was peeling off. It was too painful, and he instinctively lowered his left arm to brace his elbow on the ground in order to support his own weight and relieve some of the tension; his right hand clutched Izver by the arm that was pulling him. And then Izver slapped him. Not a punch, a slap.

It was strange; a slap didn’t have the strength and damage potential a punch did, yet there was something about the impact of an open palm against his cheek, and the sharp, burning, stinging imprint it left behind, that made Luric feel it more acutely than the dull, throbbing pain of a punch. He hated getting slapped. There was something inherently humiliating about a slap. He even found the sound of it vulgar and infuriating. No matter the circumstance or how well-deserved it was, a slap always made his stomach burn with indignation. And this time was no different.

Izver didn’t stop at one, though. He was no longer interested in inflicting physical pain. He wanted to taunt now. He slapped Luric again.

“What was that?”

Slap!

“Ya wanna say somethin’?”

Slap!

“Go on, whoreson, I’m listening.”

Slap!

“Though, for ya sake, it better be an apology.”

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Insult to injury, tears of frustration were starting to well up in Luric’s eyes, and he couldn’t stop it. Izver’s grin widened at the sight of them.

“Awww, what’s the matter? Thought ya were supposed to be brave now.”

Slap!

“Go on, say something!”

Luric wanted to call him a wretched pile of dung and then spit in his face, but he also wanted this to be over. If he laid there quietly, Izver would eventually get bored of him. But he was not going to apologize. Never. And Izver wasn’t letting up so easily.

“Say you’re sorry!”

SLAP!

“Say you’re sorry!”

SLAP!

“Say you’re sorry!”

SLAP!

The acid in his stomach burned and then spread to his chest. He felt a strange shiver come over him, yet oddly enough, his body wasn’t trembling. It was like a vibration underneath his skin.

The muscle in his shoulders and upper arm tightened, and he then felt that tension run up his neck and in his jaw. Luric clenched his teeth so tightly he was afraid he was going to shatter them. For some reason, they felt bigger than before, his tongue also not quite fitting inside the cave of his mouth as neatly as it should. It made him draw his lips back.

That’s when he heard Izver scream.

He jumped off of him, ripping his wrist from Luric’s hold. He scurried away, face pale and eyes large with panic. Luric blinked in confusion, but took his chance and got up to his feet before Izver could recover from whatever had spooked him. That’s when he noticed Izver cradling his arm protectively to his chest; the arm that Izver had been holding him with.

Thin rivulets of red were flowing down from four identical and evenly spaced puncture marks. Right where Luric had been clutching him.

There’s no way I could’ve done that, he had thought while raising his right arm to look at his fingers. He couldn’t have the strength to get his blunt fingernail -

They were sharp.

They were long.

As were the fingers.

And the span of his palm.

This wasn’t his hand.

But it seemed to be attached to his arm that was attached to his shoulder that belonged to his torso. He tried to get his fingers to move a little, and sure enough, the hand before him complied. But there was a disconnection between what he was seeing and what he was feeling. This isn’t mine. This isn’t me. He grabbed it with his left arm, almost as if this was a costume glove and he wanted to tear it off. The left hand wasn’t his either. Same sharp nails, same long fingers.

“M-Monster. MONSTER!” yelled Izver.

What? Where?, was Luric’s first thought, but Izver was looking only at him. He turned around. Someone had to help him. Someone had to go get Mr. Carshtin.

The kids that had gathered around all flew backwards in fright when Luric turned to them. Some screamed, some ran away, but most where just standing there, looking at him with the same terrified expression Izver had.

Wha- did something happen to my face too? When when he tried to speak his teeth got in the way, and what came out was a spit filled gurgle that scared even him.

He brought up those hands that weren’t his to his face to feel around his mouth and found there teeth that weren’t his. He had been right, they were bigger. And sharp. Fangs? WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?, was what he meant to yell, but an inhuman wail was what he heard.

And then.

“Auntie was right,” someone said breathlessly. Luric looked up to see Buck staring at him. He had come a little closer now, standing between him and the other sniffling, whimpering kids. His face showed the same kind of terror the others were wearing, but his eyes held a shine of fascination as they ran over his changed features. But it was his next words that broke Luric.

“Ya really are a cursed child of Shulffa. That’s why ya don’t have any parents.”

A cursed child. A bastard of Shulffa. That couldn’t be right. No! He wasn’t. But then how could he explain this? Was this really the reason he had been abandoned? Or did he even have real parents to begin with? Didn’t he read that monsters were spawned from darkness? Or were those the shadow critters he was thinking of? He couldn’t remember. He read so many books about legends and lore and mythical monsters, and his mind was reeling. But there was something he did remember clearly, and that was what people did when they came across someone like this.

When he heard one of the kids yell for help, he ran.

He ran, and ran, and ran.

Then he hid.

Then cried until he fell asleep.

The next day, he heard them come for him. Heard Mr. Carshtin call his name. By the time he reached them, Mr. Carshtin was already on the ground, unconscious and bloody. He watched them carry him away from behind bushes, too much of a coward to do anything else.

He creeped back to his school and into Mr. Carshtin’s bedroom where he was lying alone and unattended to. Nobody came to care for him. Luric sat there helplessly and watched the life of the only person he had ever loved expire.

He had cried again, loudly and bitterly. That’s when they heard him. He ran again, but not far this time. He stood close to town, because he needed food and he didn’t know how to hunt. He stole an egg here, a loaf of bread there. He managed to evade them for a while, but eventually, they caught him.

And just like he remembered correctly from his books, sentenced him to death.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

He had finished telling his tale between sobs and hiccups, no longer caring what anybody thought of him. No, that was lie. He was ashamed to look at Buck. And the lady. He stared at his legs splayed before him. He hadn’t bothered to get up. Probably didn’t have any strength left for it anyway.

When the room grew quiet, he heard a girl’s voice whisper desperately to her parents. “Mother! Father! Make him take it back. Make him take back the curse”, before she started crying again. Ogette. She was Olvic’s daughter, and the prettiest girl in Runrick. She and Buck were also sweet on each other. Ah, so that’s why, he thought bemusedly. The hero had jumped in to protect his fair maiden. Classic Buck.

But he would never take back his words. Never!

As if on cue, Olvic’s voice boomed through the room. “Ya know how to do this proper, right m’lady? How to kill the beast and cleanse us of his curse?”

No, no, no. He wasn’t going let them get away that easily. This was all he had left. At least let them live on in fear. He was owed that much. “I’m not taking it back,” he said weakly, but knew everyone heard it just the same.

“There is nothing to take back, I’m afraid.” Luric looked up, and stared at the lady. There was a lightly mirthful expression on her face. “There is no curse here. Your kind can’t do that.”

What?

“Do you mean that, m’lady,” Priest Santr asked in a hopeful tone.

“It’s a popular misconception among the common people, but I assure you, Blighted can’t curse or infect other humans.”

The sound of relief he heard coming from the townsfolk cut him to the very core. So, he wouldn’t be granted even this tiny bit of vengeance. He lowered his head dejectedly and tried to tune out the merriment that followed the lady’s words. Everyone quieted down instantly, though, at what she said next.

“They can rip them to shreds, though.”

Luric blinked, not quite comprehending what she meant. The townspeople seemed equally confused.

“M’lady?”

But she wasn’t talking to them anymore. Instead she addressed the strange man standing next to Luric.

“So, what do you think, Mr. Visloc?”

Mr. Visloc shrugged. “I’d have to get a good look at his arsenal, but from what I’ve heard, it seems to be the usual. Claws. Fangs. Maybe a tail.” He then looked at him and smirked. “The boy got one hell of a thrashing before my very eyes, and I didn’t feel him turn. That’s always a good sign. It’ll be easier for him to learn control if he doesn’t change skin at the slightest provocation. Yeah, I can work with him.”

The lady brightened at that. “That’s wonderful!”

Wait, work with him?

“I don’t understand, m’lady.” Chief Slatrim came forward again.

Her smiled dimmed a little. “Of course, you don’t.” And then she did the last thing Luric expected to see. She extended her arm and called Luric to her in a kind, reassuring voice. “Come here, my child.”

Apparently he didn’t react fast enough, because the man picked him up by the scruff again and shoved him unceremoniously towards the lady. He stumbled and staggered his way to her, but stopped before he was within arm’s length of her.

He didn’t know how honest her invitation was. Either way, people like him weren’t supposed to get too close to a person of high status, blighted or not. But then she closed the distance herself, and placed a gentle hand on his head.

He froze at first. The only time he came in physical contact with somebody else these days was through a punch or a kick. He had forgotten what a caress felt like. For some reason, he felt like crying again. When she gave him an understanding look, the feeling got even stronger. She then reached around to lightly grab his shoulder so she could turn them both towards the townspeople that were staring at them, dumfounded.

“Allow me to explain,” she started. “I am Duchess Berjeen Archvel, Blood of the King, and the founder and head of His Majesty’s Institute of Occult Science and Affairs. The decree you mention was issued by His Majesty on my behalf. Our objective is to find individuals of … his nature, and employ them.”

There was too much to process at once. Where to start? She wasn’t just a noble, she was a duchess. She called herself Blood of the King; only those who were directly related to him were allowed to do that. He was standing next to royalty. And she founded an Institute of….Occult something? For…for people like him. To employ?

Did this mean -

“Ya not gonna kill ‘im, ma’am?”

That was Chief Slatrim asking the one question that really mattered, but Luric was too busy looking at the lady – Lady Archvel. He wondered when she was going to disappear and reveal that it had all been just trick of his mind. Or a dream. Because this couldn’t be real. He had lived with fear for his life for so many days, had seen his demise in his head over and over again, that her next words nearly shattered him.

“No. As I said, we want him to join us.”

“The monster?!”

“The Blighted,” she corrected.

A harsh murmur tinged with shock and disbelief erupted among the gathering. This wasn’t what they expected. This wasn’t what they were here for. This wasn’t what was supposed to be done.

“But - we thought you were here for- but, they’re not supposed to be allowed to live. Protector Baar says so! ” Chief Slatrim again, Priest Santr joining in to agree with him.

“Yes, we are devout followers of Baar and his teachings. He clearlys tell us to -”

This time Lady Archvel’s voice turned a little severe, as if she was losing her patience with them.

“I assure you, we have received approval from your spiritual leaders as well, and they have given us their blessing for this endeavor. If you do not wish to take my word for it, I will gladly bring you to stand before both the First Disciple of Baar and Our Majesty himself. You can voice your complaints to them in person, my esteemed gentlemen.”

Luric had never seen so many faces pale so fast. Chief Slatrim and Priest Santr’s in particular seemed to take on a light shade of blue.

“No, my lady, my duche - your highness, uhm, we were just - ”

The lady’s graciousness waned and her tone was sharp when she cut him off. “You should consider yourself fortunate that we got here when we did. Judging from the preparations outside, you were just getting ready for the execution. A highly barbaric one, I might add. I believe the decree clearly stated that you were not to take any action against a person you deemed unnatural, simply report your findings and then wait for official aid. Had you killed him without our consent, you would’ve been charged with disobedience of a direct order from the king.”

Now they were sweating instead. Priest Santr tried to defend himself one more time; behind him he saw Olvic grab him by the robe and whisper urgently through clenched teeth “Be quite, ya fool!” The priest pushed him away.

“I did read it carefully, Duchess Archvel. It also clearly stated that we were allowed to defend ourselves from it, and that killing was permissible if our lives were in danger. They were. He already killed one.”

Luric opened his mouth to throw that accusation back in his face, again, when he felt the Duchess’s hand tighten briefly. He got the message and kept quiet.

“That’s not what happened, according to him.”

And that’s when Chief Slatrim momentarily forgot to be humble and scared. “You believe Shulffa’s bastard instead of us?”

“You really don’t seem to understand,” her smile was back in place, but it was cold. “His life is worth more to our king and country than this entire town put together.”

Luric wished he had been clearheaded enough to think of looking at the others as this was being said. He wished he had seen the exact moment the Duchess’s words sank in. As it were, he was having difficulties wrapping his head around what was happening himself. He was still struggling with one notion.

I’m going to live.

Luric did look at them after a while. These were the people he had grown up with. He had helped Mrs. Bilbad around the house when she had broken her leg; he had been there with the other kids to dig out old man Pipperic when the snow had buried his little house all the way up to the ridge of his roof; he had helped Mr. Carshtin care for Gulvan and his family when they all came down with a strange fever, when even the doctor didn’t want to come close to their house out of fear of catching it; he ran errands for Mr. Likik, the butcher and Mr. Erd, the pharmacist, for the egglers and pie makers, and sometimes, even for Chief Slatrim himself. He did all of that in the hope that they might start liking him a little more and he could become a proper part of the community when he was older. But none of that had mattered.

Yet he had never felt more cut off from them as he did now, with him over here and all of them standing together at the other side of the prayhouse. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t mind it. Better yet, he liked it. On this side was the Duchess, and Mr. Visloc, and her other guards. This side had important, powerful people, far more important than Chief Slatrim or Priest Santr or the head-merchant Olivic could ever hope to be, and they wanted him to be a part of it. He stood above them and could, Luric realized now, look down on them.

“Well then, guess we will take our leave now. We have a train to catch in Pelase. We would’ve stayed a little longer to rest, but I think you made it quite clear that you don’t want this little boy around anymore, so we will take him off your hands sooner rather than later. Luric?” He turned to her startled. “Is there something you’d like to say to them before we go?”

Yes, so much. Or rather, he felt so much, but he couldn’t find the appropriate words to express them. Should he accuse? Should he deride? Should he mock them? Should he ask the lady to sic her guards on the townsfolk for what they did to Mr. Carshtin or would he be overstepping his bounds? There was too much going on in his head and heart; aside from bitterness, there was also this new sensation of relief and elation that was coming over him, and the contrasting emotions were leaving him a bit dazed. Afraid he was going to end up saying something frivolous or stupid, he just shook his head.

“Alright then.” The duchess then put her hands on his shoulders and turned them around towards the exit without so much as offering a nod in parting to the magistrate and the priest. Luric just let her lead him wherever she pleased. Two of her guards rushed to open the doors for them. A carriage was waiting outside. It was pristine, gleaming, heavily decorated and clean, and looked severely out of place in the mud- and shit-caked town square stretching behind it. There were other townspeople gathered around it, and even more loitering around near the middle of the square. They all stopped to look at them when they walked out of the prayhouse. That’s when Luric saw it; a large pile of dried up branches with a long wooden pillar jutting out of it. Ah, so this is how they were going to do it.

He had wondered about this, about how they had been planning on killing him. Deep down he had truly believed he wasn’t going to survive, even when he was fighting for his life.

He looked at his pyre, at the people that had gathered around it. Everybody had come to watch the show. First in line were Izver’s parents. When they saw him, they started yelling. “Bring’im here! Let us light it. For our son, to cleanse him of his poison!” The crowd was cheering. They cheered, and they roared, and they hurled insults at him. Behind him, he could hear Chief Slatrim and Priest Santr trying to get them to stop, but they were still inside the prayhouse so no one else could hear them.

That was alright; Luric could bring the rest of the town up to speed.

“IF YOU WANT TO SEE SOMEONE BURN GO AHEAD AND LIGHT YOUR OWN ASSES ON FIRE BECAUSE I’M NOT DYING TODAY!”

He was going to have a sore throat for days probably, but the memory of the abrupt hush that came over the square was going to be his source of joy for far longer than that. The light chuckle from the duchess and the brash laughter from Mr. Viscol pleased him too. The other guards, the ones he had yet to properly look at, seemed amused as well. He was going to like being with them.

Then, a moment of inspiration. He turned around to look at Chief Slatrim and the others.

“I may not be able to place a curse on you all, but I still hope either Baar or Shulffa damn you in my place. I don’t care which.”

And with that, he turned around to walk down the steps towards the carriage and didn’t look back once. Once inside he started wishing he had, though. He wanted to see what Buck thought of all of this. Had his self-righteous confidence disappeared too? Was he afraid and ashamed of what he’d done? What did he think when he saw that Luric wasn’t the villain of his own little story of heroism? Luric would wonder about that for years to come.

The duchess climbed inside, sat on the bench opposite of him and signaled to the coachman to go. The other guards were mounting their horses. It was over.

He was safe and protected. He wanted to smile, he wanted to laugh, he wanted to thank the duchess for saving his life, but she was conversing with Mr. Visloc, who was riding next to her window, and he didn’t want to interrupt. Then, as they drove out of the square, they passed right next to the pyre and Luric got a good look at it. And though he knew he shouldn’t have – because he was safe, and protected, and leaving Runrick to never return – Luric still broke down and cried.

Back then he was certain he was never going to see this place and any of them ever again. Had he known he’d find himself standing in front of this prayhouse years later, only seconds away from coming face to face with the people that still haunted his nightmares every so often, he would have tried to come up with better parting words. As it were, he had to make due with referencing what he had said. He wondered if they would remember it. It had been over ten years after all.

He was a little angry at himself for being nervous; he was older, stronger, and richer than any of them. There was nothing they could do to him anymore. Moreover, they needed his help. This was their punishment. This was his vengeance. With that conviction, and a little annoyance at having forgotten to change his mud-splattered boots and pants, he barged into the building. The screech of wooden doors being pushed out of the way seemed deafening in the sepulchral room. Every head turned to look at him.

And there they were, the demons of his past.

“So, guess both Baar and Shulffa were listening that day.”

[t0kidal]

Return From Origins Part 3

__________________________________________________

No Intro, only story.

Inspired by 4_ever_rewritten and TheWunderKind on Ao3

Mairimashita does not belong to me, all characters in this fic belong to either you, the reader, or Nishi Osamu.

Part 2 ; Part 4

______________________________________________________________

As it turns out, Iruma seemed fine but further inspection revealed boney limbs and a very loud and growly tummy. 

During a brief moment of panic you ended up out the window and coming back with comically large prey in your jaws. 

But apparently he just needed to drink milk for the time being... he was still too young and couldn’t eat physical food just yet. While he’d like to eat more and more often than a bottle every two hours (which was achieved after much negotiation with the infant), for the sake his health and adjustment to his new home, there’d be no changes to his meal schedule.

Right now it was your turn... technically...

Technically it was your turn because you were watching over him again and he woke up at the crack of dawn, hungry. You can tell because he’s looking at you with those eyes.. big and blue.. we’ve established that. 

“What are we going to do with you?” You say as you gently pick him up and cradle him.

“Hmm? How are we going to teach you all that you need to know to survive? Or rather... how are they going to do so?”

You start to hum as you bring him over to the kitchen to prep his bottle.

“Are you even aware that you should be afraid right now? What kind of monster is holding you?”

He only coos sleepily, cozy in your arms.

“I thought you were hungry, Iruma? Wanna eat later with everyone?”

A little gurgle is your only reply.

You sigh, “I must be losing my mind... technically I’ve already lost it but...”

“You know... You have a wonderful family all ready to receive you. I have no doubt that they’ll always love you... never leave you.

I will never leave you.”

Steel your resolve, you’re about to enter motherhood.

~~~

“So... about adoption papers.” You mention.

“They’re right here~! Oh, I’m so excited! Finally I have a grandson to spoil rotten~!” 

“Wait.”

“Hm~?”

“I... I would like to be added on as a guardian.” you sheepishly ask.

Sullivan, now no longer an egg, towers over you even as he sits. Calmly mulling it over, you await with baited breath to hear-

“Ok~!”

“Huh?”  Yes, brilliant, wonderful, such grace, much eloquence.

“You’ll be added in as his legal ‘Mother’~ I have faith that you’ll do a great job with such an important role in his life~”

“H-hey w-”

“All done~!”

“Wh-”

“Now to take care of other business~ Your reappearance into society~”

“About tha-”

“You didn’t think that Iruma’s mother would be jobless would you~?”

“S-senpai...”

“I agree with, Master. You’ll need to assimilate so that you can set a good example for Iruma later in life.”

“That’s true bu-”

“In fact~ I’ve already got a job offer for you~”

You can only sigh as you accept your fate, Balam sweat drops in the background.

~~~

The job offer was as a tutor in Babyls. Your job would be to assist in their practical lessons and examinations. For example, in the Harvest Festival, you’d be an opponent or obstacle of some kind. Additionally, if students had any questions about surviving alone in the wild, you’d be there to answer them.

Sounds easy enough... but you were concerned about one thing...

“Isn’t it concerning that you’re employing someone who’s returned to origins?”

“Hmm~” His mustache twitches, “We could say you’re there on probation, under the watchful eye of the teachers and faculty alike.”

“How?”

“Well, dear kouhai, it doesn’t have to be true. It could just be a rumor, it’ll be enough to satisfy most’s curiosity.”

“Okay.. do we have any precautions in mind for otherwise?”

Sullivan only smiles and hums.

~~~

Which is how you ended up here. It wouldn’t be good to just suddenly have your own office so you offered to hold your sessions in the library. Almost no one went there when you were younger and you figured the same now.

You used to come here to try and find any traces of your clan in places they were located before, events they meddled in...

You sigh, not quite knowing what you were doing here but then...

“Y-You! What are you doing here!?”

Startled, you whip around in defensive position, fangs glinting in the light, and hair bristling to add some height.

And then you stop.

Because right there was one of the demons you missed the most during your time away.

“K-Kalego...”

He summons Cerberous and you find yourself pinned under its paw, all three of its faces snarling rabidly in your face. 

“Why are you here!?”

What were you supposed to lead with... I’m a mother now? I work here? No...

You didn’t think any of these things would be good enough... enough to apologize for your time away...

“… first of all uh-”

“Don’t want to hear it. Why are you here?” he repeats firmly.

“I got a job here.” You say calmly, staring still into Cerberous’s maw.

“What?!...” you can hear him mutter something along the lines of ‘That Damn Principal! He woul- no.. no.... he definitely would.’

“Pfft”

“I don’t see what’s so funny about this, so stop laughing! You’ve always laughed and never took anything seriously, now look where you are!”

You’re sighing an awful lot today..

“Kalego. Let me up, I can’t say anything like this.”

“Good, because I don’t want to hear it.”

“Please, Kalego...” You calmly turn your head to look at him. 

When your eyes connect you find your expressions mirror each other.

A grimace, a hint of disgust, or in your case, shame. All because of these damn eyes of yours that tells so much and leaves nothing to be said.

~~~

[amalthea-fictions]

Can you make a Charlie Weasley x Jacob's sibling where the reader can actually speak to dragons? Like Hiccup in httyd books or Harry with the snake-like beings

Oooh interesting concept! For purposes of the piece I'm not gonna worry about why or how the MC can speak to dragons and we're just gonna not ask questions~

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

"[Y/N!] Have you seen Charlie?"

You look up from your sandwich and shake your head, mouth still half-full.

"I haven't. Is he okay?"

Bill runs his hand through his hair, and you realize he's sweating. "I'm worried he's not. I haven't seen him all day, and we were supposed to meet for lunch. It's unlike him to be this late."

You hear a scoff from behind you. Merula lilts her head.

"The second filthy Weasley?" She snorts. "He probably heard Barnaby going on about the dragon he saw in the forest today. Apparently Kettleburn let it loose or something."

Bill blanches. "Oh bloody hell."

You and Bill sprint to the forest with such speed and determination that you're both heaving by the time you get there. Bill is frantic.

"Where--where did Barnaby say he saw it again?" He pants.

You point in the general direction as you try and catch your breath.

Bill springs forward, and you follow closely. Greenery whips against your face as you push through branches. Leaves crack under your boots as you race through. Bowtruckles scatter above. Until finally, you emerge into a clearing--

--and see Charlie, alone, holding a steak out in front of him.

Bill sighs.

"Bill?" Charlie looks up. "Oh, crap. Did I lose track of time?"

"Yes!" He marches forward to his younger brother and inspects him. "You had me worried sick! I thought you were dragon bait."

Charlie shakes his head. "No, unfortunately not."

Bill spits. "Unfortunately?!"

"Well-- you know, Barnaby said that Kettleburn's dragon escaped, and so I was hoping to see it-- I didn't mean to worry anybody--"

Charlie continues, and Bill begins lecturing him, but you notice the Bowtruckles and the Fairies have suddenly begun to hide.

"Um, boys?"

They don't hear you.

"Why would you go looking for a dragon ALONE?"

"Well, Barnaby said it's green, so it's probably only a Welsh Green. They're mostly harmless--"

The leaves on the trees begin to shake.

"Boys," you say a bit louder. "I think--"

ROAARR!!

A huge dragon booms into the clearing, the force of its wings knocking everyone over as it lands.

Bill and Charlie scramble back.

"Oh crap," Charlie mutters.

"Charlies? You said Welsh Greens are harmless, right?"

Charlie shakes his head. "This isn't a Green. It's a Norwegian Ridgeback. And she seems hungry."

The dragon swishes its tail and cuts through a row of trees like they're made of butter. They groan as they fall to the forest floor.

You hurry and scramble to your feet.

"Charlie!" Bill cries. "Throw it the bloody steak at it so we can get away!"

Charlie tosses the steak forward, but the dragon screeches, uninterested. It takes a step forward.

Bill tries to draw his wand.

You leap forward, between the dragon and the boys. You hold both palms open towards the dragon.

"[Y/N]?!" Bill shouts. "Move! You'll get killed!"

You ignore him and keep your eyes solely on the dragon.

"We mean you no harm," you say in draconic.

The dragon swishes its tail, agitated. It snorts, and steam furls out of its nostrils.

"Why are you upset?" You try again.

"[Y/N]?" Charlie asks. You hear the two boys moving to their feet behind you. "What's going on?"

Finally, the dragon lowers its head to you. A low growl rumbles from its throat.

You swallow. "She--she's upset," you explain, "because some First Year let her out of Care for Creatures. She misses Kettleburn."

You briefly look behind you and see that Bill's jaw has dropped, dumbfounded, and Charlie's eyes are twinkling.

"Are you a dovahkiin-tongue, [Y/N]?! Why did you never tell me this before?!"

Bill punches him on the arm.

You turn your attention back to the dragon, and inch forward, your palms still open. "We can take you back to Kettleburn. He will probably feed you there, too. We just need you to stay calm."

The dragon narrows its eyes at you, its nostrils flaring again. But then, it nods.

You all sigh with relief.

~~~~

Under your guidance, the Weasley boys manage to heard the Norwegian Ridgeback back into Care for Magical Creatures. Kettleburn asked Bill, as the senior student, to help him feed the beast. Bill obeyed, but promised to give Charlie a stern talking-to later.

You and Charlie watch as they disappear behind the treeline.

Finally, Charlie turns to you and grabs your hands.

"[Y/N]!" He exclaims. "That was brilliant! Why didn't you tell me you could speak to dragons!?"

Your face turns hot. You blink, your mind going blank.

Charlie's hands are warm around yours. He's beaming.

"Um," you try, "I. I guess I always thought it's weird, so I don't talk about--"

"Weird?!" He interrupts. "Are you joking?! What I'd give to be a dovahkiin-tongue! That's incredible! You're incredible!"

His smile brightens, and you feel the blood rush into your ears.

"C'mon," he says, and begins pulling you off. "We've got to talk more about this. I have SO many questions!"

~~~

For the rest of the day, Charlie would not stop asking you questions about your unique skill. Not that you minded the extra time with him, of course.

You're both sitting in the courtyard together, the clear night sky twinkling overhead.

"Fus," you try explaining again.

"Fus," he says, but his pronunciation is... horribly off.

Your bite your cheek. "How can I explain it... less 'oo' like a cow mooing."

He laughs, then perks up. "Hey! Maybe it would help if I actually feel the shape of your facial muscles when you do it. Would you mind that?"

The sparkle in his eyes is so enthusiastic, so sincere, it makes your brain freeze.

"U-uhm, sure," you start, but before you even finish, he's reached his hand out to cup your cheek.

You hope the starlight above isn't enough to illuminate how intensely your face is burning.

"Now, let's try again," Charlie beams.

You gulp and feel your heart restart from where it was frozen.

"Fus," you manage to stutter.

Charlie blinks, then smiles his brilliant smile.

"Interesting," he muses. "I think that helped. I felt that you actually suck your cheek in, like in a whistle, for the vowel."

His hand is still on your cheek, soft and warm. All you can do is nod.

He holds your gaze and doesn't move. He doesn't say anything for the next moment-- only stares at you, his lips curled into a soft smile.

"You know," he finally says, gently. "You have really soft skin, [Y/N.]"

Your heart backflips.

And --for a second, under the moonlight-- you swear you see his freckled cheeks dusted pink, too.

After what feels like an eternity, he lowers his hand and clears his throat. "Well, ah," he says, "it's getting late, isn't it? We should probably head back to the dorms before the professors yell at us."

You nod hastily, your heart still pounding. "Yes, you're right."

"But! We'll definitely pick up where we left off tomorrow!"

He bids you goodnight, and later that night, in bed, you can't help but inch your hand up to the cheek he had held so intently.

Pick up where we left off...

You smile as you drift to sleep.