#in which there is knitting and space battles

[agentstarkid]

YOU'RE THE ONE (TO MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND) ✦ AZRIEL

✦ SUMMARY: Azriel prided himself on restraint—on silence, shadows, and secrets. But you, with your unshaken confidence and maddening obliviousness, were testing every last thread of his sanity. As chaos ensues, the Shadowsinger realizes one thing: he might be doomed.

✦ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

✦ WARNINGS: crack fic, archeron!sister (briefly mentioned), miscommunication, angsty fluff and humor (maybe??), obliviousness, azriel is stressed and about to have an aneurysm—azriel fanart by harleetattoos

✦ MAY'S RADIO: this was a fun little experiment 😅 azzie boy is a certified swiftie™ 😆 i hope this is somewhere close to what you had in mind, lili bestie! -> based on this post by @lili-of-the-wildfire 🖤

< back to general masterlist

Azriel was losing his damn mind.

He had spent centuries perfecting the art of self-control—of mastering his shadows, his emotions, his very existence. But this? This was unraveling him at the seams.

And he was at his limits.

Not the normal limit, like when Cassian got a little too rowdy or Rhysand smirked a little too much. No. This was a whole new brand of suffering.

Since the moment you were thrown into the Cauldron, he had kept his distance—watching, waiting, giving you space to adjust to your new life, to the Night Court, to him. Knowing how difficult it was for your sisters, knowing that maybe you needed time to grieve what you lost.

But you—you seemed fine.

You smiled, you laughed, you trained with Cassian and traded insults with Rhys, you asked Mor endless questions about the best places to visit in Velaris. You were fine.

Except Azriel knew that wasn’t true.

Because he felt it—the crackling in the air whenever he was near you, the way your emotions bled into his own, even when you weren’t looking at him. The bond—the one you were blissfully ignorant of—was there, thrumming between you.

And it was killing him.

Because you didn’t know.

You were testing him in ways he never thought possible.

Which was why you were currently sitting across from him at the dining table, casually eating a pastry, completely unbothered by the fact that every time you so much as breathed, the bond between you screamed at him.

“I was thinking,” you said, licking a crumb from your finger, completely unaware of the way Azriel’s eyes tracked the movement, “maybe I should go to the Winter Court for a while. Just to clear my head, see more of Prythian, you know?”

Azriel’s fork snapped in half.

You blinked at him. “You okay?”

No. No, he was not okay.

“You can’t,” he said, voice tight.

Your brows knitted together. “What do you mean, I can’t?”

“You can’t just—” He took a breath, ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t just leave. You belong here.”

You scoffed. “I belong nowhere, Azriel. That’s kind of the problem.”

He exhaled sharply. “You belong with me.”

“Excuse me?,” your expression twisted in confusion. “Why are you being so weird about this?”

Azriel exhaled sharply through his nose. He had planned to do this delicately, to ease you into it, to find the right words—

That plan was dead.

“You’re my mate.” he rasped, voice strained.

“…Okay?”

Silence.

Azriel just stared at you. His mind short-circuited so violently that his shadows actually stopped moving.

“…Okay?” he repeated, his voice an octave higher than usual.

You shifted on your seat. “Yeah? You seem really stressed about it, though.”

His eye twitched. His shadows twitched. Everything twitched.

Cauldron boil him, you had no idea what it meant.

He inhaled sharply, his wings flaring slightly. “Do you understand what that means?”

You folded your arms. “Is it, like, a fae kink? I mean, I don’t judg–” You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm?”

A FAE K—?

He had seen battle. He had been tortured. He had infiltrated enemy territory and survived things that would make even Cassian cry. But this? This was what was going to kill him.

“I—No,” he choked, rubbing his temples like he could physically press the stress out of his skull. “It’s not a kink. It’s a bond. The mating bond.”.

You hummed, swishing the tea in your cup thoughtfully. “Right. So, like… what does that mean, exactly?”

“You don’t know,” he whispered to himself. “You don’t know. No one told you.” He let out a breath that sounded like a mix between a groan and a whimper. “I’m going to kill Rhys.”

His shadows curled and twisted like they were also on the verge of a complete breakdown. “It means we’re soulmates. Destined. Bound by the Cauldron itself. You’re mine.”

You blinked. “I what?”

“You. Are. My. Mate,” he repeated, slower this time, as if you were a particularly dense trainee.

You tilted your head. “So… like an arranged marriage?”

Azriel made a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a sob. His hands were shaking.

“No,” he gritted out. “It’s deeper than that.”

You frowned. “Like a super intense best friendship?”

“I—NO.”

You hear someone wheezing, barely holding their laughter in—then, moments later, a crash followed by a yelp.

You turned just in time to see a figure darting away, a blur of wings and siphons.

Cassian.

Azriel’s shadows had found him eavesdropping—and, judging by the way he stumbled, they had made sure he regretted it.

Azriel’s eye twitched. He’d deal with him later.

“Was that…? Is he okay?” you asked, glancing toward the door.

Azriel exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’ll live,” he muttered, clearly deciding that his brother’s suffering was not his current priority.

Instead, he turned back to you, inhaling deeply, speaking very slowly. “The bond ties our souls together. It means you’re meant to be with me. It’s why you feel drawn to me.”

Your face scrunched in thought. “Oh.” A pause. “I do feel really attracted to you.”

Azriel’s heart stopped. His wings tensed.

Finally. Finally, you were understanding—

“I thought it was just, you know… female hysteria.”

Azriel.exe stopped working.

You gestured vaguely. “Like, I figured I just had a stupidly big crush on you. Thought maybe it was the trauma or the near-death experience. But the mating bond? That makes so much sense.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Wow, I really thought I was just—”

Azriel inhaled sharply. Fine. If words weren’t getting through to you, maybe this would.

He reached deep into himself and gave the bond a firm tug.

You gasped. A shiver shot down your spine, warmth curling in your chest like liquid sunlight. Your breath hitched, and—Cauldron damn him—you gasped, eyes going huge and then giggled.

Azriel felt his soul crack in half.

You blinked at him, eyes wide with wonder. “Wait, what was that?!” Then, catching the look on his face—his pinched expression and the slight tension in his shoulders—, you gasped again, pointing at him accusingly. “Was that you?!”

Before he could respond, you beamed, wiggling excitedly in your seat. “Oh my gods—do that again. That tickled.”

Azriel was going to pass out. Or throw himself off a balcony. Maybe both.

“I—” He pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it nearly bruised. “You—You don’t just have a crush on me. That feeling? That’s the bond. The Cauldron literally forged us for each other.”

Your smile faltered and you squinted at him. “Are you sure?”

Azriel’s grip on reality was slipping.

“Yes.”

“…Huh.” You sipped your tea. “Neat.”

Azriel’s vision blurred. He was on the verge of blacking out.

Cassian’s laughter echoed from the hallway.

Azriel snarled. “Go away, Cassian.”

More laughter. Then a whispered, “I cannot wait to tell Rhys.”

Azriel inhaled so sharply his chest ached. He turned back to you, shadows writhing. “You do understand what this means, right?”

You smiled. “Of course I do.”

Azriel exhaled in relief.

Then—

“Anyway, as I was saying—I think I’d still like to visit the Winter Court and maybe then the beaches in Summer.” You smiled dreamily. “I could get a nice tan. A little vitamin D never hurt anyone, right?”

Azriel dropped his head onto the table so hard he thought he might develop a second brain injury to match the first one you’d unknowingly given him.

< back to general masterlist

[crushmeeren]

♡ Todoroki/Fem Reader

♡ Master List Link

⇢ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+.

⇢ Warnings; cursing, making out, dirty talk, Shouto is a champ at eating pussy/ass, fingering, vaginal sex, Shouto is a little subby in this

♡ Authors Note; I had to complete the headcannons for my favorite three MHA boys sooner rather than later. I love Shouto, he deserves all the good things and a lot of hugs.

Shouto who comes off as cold, uninterested, a giant dick — but who is so sweet and so loving it makes your teeth ache. Who is the kind of person that writes down facts about you so he doesn’t forget — you accidentally stumbled upon the list in his notes app and promptly cried.

Shouto who never ceases to buy extra of what he’s eating so you can have some too, even if you weren’t hungry in the first place.

Shouto who doesn’t understand social cues very well. Who tilts his head adorably when he’s confused. Who wears a blank, spaced out expression on his face often when he’s unsure of what’s going on.

Shouto who lets you teach him how to read the room a bit easier, to understand body language and tone. Whose pretty smile could melt icy glaciers with its tender warmth. Who is so comfortable with you he makes all sorts of facial expression, which you take as a triumphant win.

Shouto who you met in high school but didn’t date until after graduation. Who you crossed paths with while battling a villain and you caught mid air as he was nose diving from the top of a building. Who was probably a bit delirious because he swears he saw you with a halo, because he “fell in love with an Angel that day.”

Shouto who loves to drink strawberry milk. Who has so many cartons cluttering the fridge in your home it drives you nuts. Who compulsively brings you a glass when he’s drinking some because he’s learned he can show you he loves you by sharing what enjoys. It’s so cute when you get a glass out of nowhere.

Shouto who decides to be a bit “rebellious” after he gets out of high school. Who decides to cut his hair shaggy and short. Who gets a nose ring, pierces his ears and acquires a tongue ring. Who is with you when you get your own body modifications, and often wears jewelry that reminds him of you.

Shouto who claims his absolute favorite thing in the world is to snuggle up with you on the couch. Especially when it’s raining and the two of you are wrapped up in a fluffy blanket burrito, watching movies and napping. If it turns X rated, well who can blame you?

Shouto who is a dry texter. We’re talking Sahara Desert dry. Who does still take the time to send you pictures of things you love while he’s out on patrol, especially of dogs that he encounters. Who gets so happy when you respond in kind, forming your own language with one another.

Shouto who tends to wear a streetwear style when he’s not working. Who likes to wear matching clothes with you. Who even bought you both a pair of matching underwear with your faces on them. You’re unable to resist, you’re technically sitting on his face all day… right??

Shouto who is terrible at almost every video game, but who can annihilate anyone at Mario Kart. You’re definitely not bitter about that. Funnily enough, the best part of game night when everyone is over is watching Bakugou lose his mind when Sho decimates repeatedly.

Shouto who has remained tight knit with Midoriya. Who considers the man as his brother by extension, and who you’ve grown close to as well. Who goes to the #1 hero for help planning you a surprise party by sending Midoriya a series of increasingly concerning emojis until he agrees.

Shouto who loves to eat peach gummy rings. Who you have, on more than one occasion, woken up to eating the candy at 2:00 am. Who offers you one, which you casually eat and go back to bed. Who memorizes your favorite candy and leaves it for you to find everywhere.

Shouto who has told you the story of how he got his burn scar. About his father, his brother and all the horrors of his past. Who opened up to you, willingly sharing a side of himself others don’t get the privilege to see.

Shouto who has taken you to meet his family, to meet his mother. Who added you to the group chat with all his siblings, which is unbelievably entertaining. Who tries to fit his face with more than one expression when he meets your parents, but you make sure he knows he’s perfect for you just the way he is.

Shouto who loves you unconditionally. Who is your soul mate, your best friend. Whose love for you has grown bigger than a California Redwood tree. Who becomes your husband, who you love more than life itself. You’d start a goddamn war for this man.

Shouto who enjoys kissing. Who loves to lazily make out with you. Whose cock starts twitching in his briefs when the kiss turns messy. Whose lips get slick and puffy as they press together consistently with yours. Who eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it and sinking his teeth into your bottom lip so roughly it stings.

Shouto who likes to spread you out on your back in bed, stripping you until your only in one of his large T-shirts. Who leers at you when he pushes it up your belly, gently letting it catch on your tits until he can watch them fall and bounce. Who makes you keep the shirt up around your collarbone when he sucks on your nipples.

Shouto who bites the skin on your sternum, plush lips tickling your belly as he makes his way to your pussy. Who grips the bottoms of your thighs and presses them backwards to your chest. Who stares at you with heavy lidded eyes as he licks from your pussy to your clit, making sure to swirl the cold metal of his tongue ring around it.

Shouto whose eyes flutter closed while he eats you out. Who makes you cry out when he sucks your clit, tongue ring passing over it with each methodical swipe of his tongue. Who praises you murmuring “your pussy is amazing angel, will you let me eat your ass? pretty please?”

Shouto who strips you both. Whose flushed cock stands full and heavy when you see it. Who flips you, yanking your ass in the air and shoving your face into the sheets. Who spanks you unforgivingly and grips the thick flesh of your ass to spread you open. Who chills his tongue ring even more and kitten licks at your rim until you want to scream.

Shouto who shoves two fingers in your pussy without warning. Who curls and thrusts them as he sucks on your rim until you cum so hard you see stars. Who pulls away from you, stroking himself for relief and speaks with a wrecked voice pleading “I want to put my cock in you so badly, can I please princess?”

Shouto who is aware you’re a pillow princess, but has hearts in his eyes, cheeks flushing bubblegum pink when you tell him you’ll ride him for a bit. Who props his back up against the headboard with a couple pillows, allowing you to flip around so your back faces him. Who holds your wrists behind your back as you ride him, letting out delicate and whiny moans while you make his toes curl.

Shouto who spreads you with his free hand, eyes glued as his cock disappears into your pussy while you bounce in his lap. Whose dick throbs, breathing hitching when you throw your head back and you moan “fuck Shouto, your cock is so good, you’re gonna make me cum!”

Shouto who reaches his limit, pushing you off his cock and onto your back whispering filthy praise in your ear. Who grips his shaft, teasing your clit with the tip before slipping his dick all the way back inside with one fluid roll of his hips.

Shouto who bends you in half, hooking your knees over his shoulders and folding you into a mating press. Who fucks you roughly, hips curling up with the intention to bully your g-spot. Who makes sure you feel each drag of his cock, coaxing you into cumming with a handful of strokes. Who gets you to cum over and over, little water balloons of warm pleasure popping and coursing through you.

Shouto who produces low moans when your pussy squeezes his cock. Who desperately pleads with you to cum one more time because he can’t hold on for much longer.

Shouto who makes you feel dizzy as you chase your pleasure once more while folded as a pretzel. Who cums instantly when your sweet cries hit his ears, praising and encouraging him all at once. Who pushes into the hilt, grinding against you as he bursts at the seams, panting to catch his breath.

Shouto who giggles with you as he untangles your limbs. Who flops down beside you, lacing your fingers together as you enjoy the leftover bliss.

Shouto who eventually gets up to clean you both. Who finds the shirt you were previously wearing and some clean panties for you to wear. Who pulls you into a hug, murmuring how much he loves you, planting kisses all over your face. Shouto who then goes to the kitchen and brings you a glass of strawberry milk.

[savi0rr]

Dirty Cash.ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, you suddenly get a tone of money. Who knew that you had to do some dirty work for it.

a/n: hi divas!! I saw a lot of people liked my other Viktor oneshot so here's another one! this one isn't my fav cuz its lowkey short but I think its cute

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Where on earth did you get that?” Viktor exclaimed, his eyebrows knitting together in astonishment as he stared at the box of expensive, high-tech equipment you had just carried into the dimly lit lab. The box was adorned with sleek designs and the latest technology, a stark contrast to the cluttered workbench scattered with dusty tools and disassembled gadgets. You couldn’t help but smile, tilting your head playfully to one side.

“Do you have any idea how much these are?” he continued, his fingers delicately brushing over one of the intricate components, marveling at its craftsmanship. You held your breath for a moment, glancing off to the side as if considering your next words carefully, then shrugged nonchalantly. With a mischievous twinkle in your eye, you replied, “Don’t ask and enjoy,” punctuating the statement with a wink while leaning casually against the desk, exuding an air of confidence.

Viktor’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning as he sorted through the various parts, his mind already racing with possibilities. “You have no idea how rare these are…” he muttered under his breath, becoming engrossed in the treasure trove of trinkets laid before him.

After a brief, absorbed silence, Viktor paused, placing the delicate gear back in the box. He leaned back in his chair, a faint sigh escaping his lips, and regarded you with a skeptical expression. “Did you steal these?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow as he scrutinized your demeanor. The intensity of his gaze made you hesitate for a fleeting moment as you tried your best to maintain an innocent facade.

“I just had some… spare money. Why not spend it on my favorite inventor?” you replied, tilting your head slightly and pouting to soften the edges of the conversation. “Don’t you trust me?”

Viktor let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You? Have spare money?” he scoffed, a frown forming on his lips as he redirected his attention to the cluttered box. “And for one, I don’t trust you.”

You allowed a smirk to dance across your face, your shoulders shrugging in a carefree manner. “I had some… dirty work, let’s say,” you suggested with a hint of mischief in your voice. 

Viktor’s expression shifted, his curiosity igniting as he leaned forward, his body tensing slightly. “Dirty work?” he echoed, his voice trailing off as his eyes drifted over your figure, assessing you with a newfound suspicion. Your cheeks flushed under his gaze. “Of course not! I haven’t gone insane,” you retorted quickly, adding, “I just did some work. In the Undercity.”

“What kind?” Viktor pressed, his interest now piqued as he frowned, searching your face for clues. 

“Just covering some people’s tracks,” you replied, casual air about you, though the words hung heavy in the air. “They paid me a lot,” you added, throwing him a playful wink to lighten the gravity of the situation.

Viktor fell quiet, the surprise and concern battling within him. After a moment, he nodded slowly, his expression softening. “And you spent it all on these parts?” he inquired, a hint of disbelief creeping back into his tone. “On me?” 

“I didn’t spend all of it on you,” you giggled, slipping off the edge of the desk to approach him. Leaning slightly over his shoulder, you whispered teasingly, “Or maybe I did,” allowing your breath to brush against his ear, an intimate gesture that sent a thrill down both of your spines. You tilted your head again, your smirk widening.

“Have fun with your brand-new toys,” you said softly, stepping back to create space between you two as you turned to leave the lab. Viktor stood there, confusion swirling in his mind, a string of curses escaping his lips as he realized the complexities of your actions. “Damn it,” he thought, a flicker of gratitude igniting within him—he owed you one.

[myjjongie]

☾ CRAVING YOU ── p. jongseong

IN WHICH: your office rival isn't so keen on seeing you sit in the middle of two male coworkers at the company dinner.

PAIRING: coworker!jay x coworker fem!reader GENRE/WARNINGS: lowercase intended !!, one shot, skinship, they make out (sigh), fluff, angst if you squint hard enough, enemies to lovers, slight sexual tension, mentions of alcohol consumption, slight consent issues WORD COUNT: 3.1k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: not necessarily NSFW, but some themes are a bit... so i think it's appropriate to label this as mdni tbh. also if you're thinking "evie was this inspired off of that clip of jay taking a shot recently?". yes. a million times yes. need one drink with him and i'm set for LIFE man. it's insane how quick i thought of this when i first saw that clip LOL

you never thought your future office life would be far from quiet.

no more peaceful work days you imagined about. or the the quiet productivity of a cubicle with your desk neighbor. instead your reality consisted of constant irritation. a never ending battle of slight competition. all with one specific coworker who was hell bent on making your life difficult.

the source of that daily frustration was none other than park jongseong.

things weren’t always like this. when you first joined the company, jongseong was nothing more than a diligent employee. always professional, consistently well dressed, and always adjusting the glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose as he focused on his tasks. at the time he barely spared you a second glance. too consumed by his own work to worry about a newcomer.

but then things changed one day. soon your efforts didn’t go unnoticed. your team leader spoke highly of you in your meetings. making sure to give you praises for your dedication to your work. all it took was one comment from him for your office life to flip.

a passing remark from your team leader about jongseong learning from you, was all it took to make you his competition. in the beginning it was ridiculous. it was as if you saw a child throwing a tantrum. but as jongseong’s antics persisted, you inevitably found yourself drawn into the rivalry you both had subconsciously created.

yet despite that you found yourself falling for him. at first you hated the thought of it. why would you like the person who single handedly flipped your peaceful office life? but then you slowly realized why. jongseong may have been a prick to you on many occasions, yet at the same time he was a gentleman.

jongseong unironically was able to pick up on when enough was enough. he paid attention to how you always reacted to the mutual banter. despite that he was also caring and showed concern. especially during late nights in the office. going out of his way to prepare microwavable meals when you didn’t eat. those small thoughtful gestures had you falling for him before you even realized it.

maybe you would have told jongseong your feelings. but deep down you knew he viewed you as a rival and nothing more. as disheartening as it was. it was something you could live with, but soon found hard in doing so.

now here you were at a dinner celebrating another successful quarter. you were currently sandwiched between two male colleagues of yours. you’ve never really spoken to them much. only quick greetings or slight talk about a mutual interest. at most, they were acquaintances to you.

the close space bothered you slightly, but knew it wouldn’t matter once you started to down some alcohol. after all, this was a celebration dinner, it wouldn’t hurt to get a drink.

meanwhile, on the other side of the small restaurant jongseong was sat with the team leader. accompanied by some other employees. the moment he spotted you, his eyes locked on to you. irritation knitting into his brow as he noticed you sandwiched between the two men. he couldn’t stand it. but he forced himself to push those feelings aside. determined to make the most out of the dinner. even if it was slightly unenjoyable.

jongseong learned early on he liked you. he noticed it the minute he realized his eyes would find you around the office. whether it was in the break room, at your cubicle, or during meetings. he wanted you within his sight at all times. yet jongseong knew you would never feel the same way if he continued this charade of a rivalry. soon he changed his actions, but made sure it wouldn’t be noticed. he’d hoped that if he gathered enough courage. maybe, just maybe, you’d feel the same.

minutes blurred into a half hour, then a hour. you teetered on the edge of drunkenness, while those around you had long since given into their intoxication. anytime your shot glass was empty, your coworkers were quick to refill your glass. your head ached slightly as your body became flushed. yet that didn’t stop you from downing more shots along with beer. at a certain point an arm was thrown around your shoulders. so intoxicated you didn’t even notice your coworker leaning on your body for support.

jongseong’s eyes still glued on you took immediate notice of the way your body leaned in closer to them. his fingers curled tightly around the shot glass, knuckles slowly turning white.

“jongseong would you like another shot?” the team leader spoke up as he eyed the empty glass.

jongseong hummed a reply. once his glass was full, he turned his head to down the shot. the burn of the liquor not doing much to calm his forming annoyance. once setting the glass down, the sharp clink was louder than he intended. his jaw clenched as jongseong silently cursed at himself for how quickly jealousy was getting the best of him. jongseong knew he had no right to be so possessive over you, yet. he couldn’t stand those men peering as closely as they did.

everyone at jongseong’s table looked over at him. confused looks forming at the sudden slam of his glass. “sorry. maybe that should be enough alcohol for me. didn’t even realize i slammed it that hard.” he let out a awkward laugh, hoping it would kill the silence at the table. as well as using it as an excuse to sober up.

soon the chatter at jongseong’s table picked up again. the sound drowning out to him as he once again watched you diligently.

back at your table you were now more than just tipsy. to many drinks in your system to count. you were enjoying the moment of laughter mixed with drinks. you barely realized one of the guys next to you leaned in closer to say something into your ear. resulting in a giggle to leave you.

the moment jongseong saw his fellow coworker leaning in, his grip on his shot glass tightened, jaw clenching. his patience now wearing thin snapped as you smiled at him. the scrap from the chair against the floor was sharp. enough to silence the conversation around him yet again. all eyes were now focused on him. but he paid no mind as his eyes were only on you.

“is everything okay jongseong?” one of the fellow employees asked. but he remained silent, his focus entirely on your table.

his response was curt as he realized his silence. “yes. i just need to take care of something.” stepping out from the chair, jongseong made his way to your table with heavy footsteps.

too busy downing another shot, you didn’t realize jongseong made his way over to you. you finally noticed his presence the moment his low voice rang in your ears behind you.

“i think she’s had enough.” jongseong’s voice came out sharper then he intended, cutting through the drunken laughter. he was quick to notice the two men hesitate beside you before glancing over at him. good. let them be aware of who they’re messing with.

“jongseong? what are you doing here.” you let out a soft giggle.

“we just poured her another shot. let her finish it and then she can leave!” one of the guys protested hesitantly. it bothered jongseong on how they insisted for you to drink more.

he let out a scoff, quick to yank the arm that was draped around your shoulder away. resting his hand firmly on the back of your chair, jongseong leaned over to grab the shot glass. downing it all in one swift gulp. setting the glass back down, jongseong noticed the familiar burn of the alcohol felt nice this time. an annoyed smile made its way onto his face as he spoke. “there. she’s finished. happy now?”

the two men deciding not to mess with jongseong any further fell silent. with a satisfied laugh, he softly pulled your chair back extending his hand to you. grasping it firmly you stood up, only to stumble slightly. jongseong was quick to react. his hand securely wrapped around your waist to steady you.

“thank you.” you cooed softly. his ears flushed slightly at the sound of your voice. a shy smile tugging at his lips.

once saying goodbye to everyone at the restaurant, jongseong ushered you to his car. the hand that was placed around your waist was held in your hand. you were walking ahead of him, almost seemingly dragging him along. you swung your other arm happily as you made your way to the car.

finally making it to his car. jongseong helped you get into the passenger seat. before he was even able to open the car door, you stumbled again. leaning against the car for support you looked over to see jongseong’s arm propped next to you. his eyes stared into you as he took in the moment. jongseong couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at your situation.

on some strange instinct your arms wrapped around his neck. you weren’t the type to be clingy to others while drunk. yet knowing it was jongseong taking care of you, you couldn’t help but do just that.

“jay~” your voice chimed as you smiled softly at him. “thank you.” jongseong’s jaw tightened at the sudden nickname. he wasn’t keen on using his personal name at work. but with you he found it hard to maintain that barrier. especially after he let it slip into a conversation during a late overtime shift.

“don’t thank me. i’m just doing what’s best.” he softly spoke as he opened the car door. jongseong couldn’t lie. in this moment he wanted to kiss you badly. despite feeling that, he held back every nerve from doing so. in fear even if you were tipsy, you would still reject him.

after gently guiding you into the car seat you were quick to doze off. the heat of all the alcohol lulling you to sleep. jongseong couldn’t help but smile at your sleeping form in the passenger seat. the drive to your apartment was silent. your soft breathing being the only sound within the car.

you woke up to the gentle shake of jongseong’s hand on your shoulder. a dull pounding already forming in your head. blinking against the haze of sleep, you stirred, still groggily from the small power nap you took.

“where am i?” you looked around as your eyes focused on the surroundings outside.

“in front of your apartment complex. you drank too much so i brought you home.” jongseong skipped out on a few moments, the whole thing wasn’t particularly a lie.

“i’ll help you out give me a second.” quick to his words, jongseong immediately got out of the car. almost sprinting to your side if you were able to notice.

his hand stretched out for you to grab, as he pulled you out from the car. the walk up to your apartment was nice. jongseong’s hand once again placed at your waist to help keep you steady. you enjoyed the firm grasp he had on you. mentally cursing at yourself that once you reached your door that touch would be gone.

you made sure your pace was slow. wanting to savor the closeness in the moment. jongseong noticed this, but deemed it as you slightly sobering up after your mini nap. he forced himself to think nothing more of it. he didn’t want to read into a situation that was far from what he wanted.

reaching your door jongseong’s hand still never left your waist. keeping you upright as you placed in your pin code. just like you were slowly making your way to the apartment, you stalled opening the door. you had to come to terms that this was it. you bit your lip as you felt jongseong’s hand slide away from your waist.

but once you opened the door, you lost your balance yet again. you tumbled forward, eyes squeezing as you prepared to fall face first. yet you never met the ground. the soft sound of your door closing with a tune echoed behind you. taking in the scene. jongseong had steadied his hand against the wall, while his other arm was tightly wrapped around your waist.

heat ran to your cheeks as you became aware of how close your bodies were. you prayed jongseong wouldn’t hear the frantic pounding of your heart. as he steadied you on your feet once more, jongseong spoke.

“you’re really clumsy when you’re drunk. thank goodness i was here. if i wasn’t you most definitely would have smacked your face against the floor.”

a subtle shiver spread through you as his quiet laugh vibrated against your back. you did everything you could to hold onto the moment. wishing time would slow just enough to make this moment last longer. you made sure to remember every fleeting detail. but soon, jongseong pulled away. his hands settling gently on your shoulders, steadying you once more.

“it’s getting late so i’m gonna head out. don’t fall over right when i leave. i’ll associate clumsiness with you if that happens.” the warmth from his hands left your body. you disliked it. you couldn’t help but want to be greedy for his touch.

just as jongseong was about to reach for the door handle, he froze. your fingers curled softly around the sleeve of his dress shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

“could you stay a little longer?” your voice was meek. slightly afraid you over crossed a boundary. even more so afraid jongseong would reject your small advance.

a curse slipped past jongseong’s lips before he could stop himself. his hand raising, fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you closer. pinning you gently against the wall. his glasses reflected the dim lighting hiding the intensity of his gaze. he felt hesitant, the need to restrain himself. but then he saw it, the flicker of yearning in your eyes. that was all it took. his lips met yours. firm yet searching, knowing he had been holding back for far too long.

the hand that had pinned your wrist against the wall now cradled your cheek. his thumb brushing against your skin as he deepened the kiss. jongseong smirked at the faint taste of alcohol lingering on your lips. in that moment he could only focus on the softness of your mouth against his. your fingers tightened around his arm, legs threatening to give out beneath you.

a low growl vibrated in jongseong’s chest at the feeling of his glasses uncomfortably pressing between you. he hesitated briefly, even if it was for a slight second before pulling away. both your breathing uneven as his fingers slid up to the bridge of his nose. quick to yank the frames off with an irritated sigh before pocketing them. his eyes landed back to yours, heavy with want. your stomach fluttered at the anticipation as his lips collided with yours.

his teeth softly grazed your bottom lip. wanting to gain a more deeper access. satisfied with your eager compliance, he was quick to make work with his tongue. his hand inched from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up to open the kiss.

your knees buckled lightly at the overwhelming shiver that coursed through you. noticing your unsteadiness, jongseong quickly lifted one of your thighs to his side. this helped to stabilize you against him and the wall. not being able to help himself, his fingers brushed lightly beneath your skirt. the warm touch igniting a wave of sensation against your bare skin. the feeling alone drew a soft moan to leave your lips.

your grip now on his dress shirt, tightened in hopes to steady yourself. as the kiss deepened your breath began to hitch. lungs aching from the lack of air. softly hitting against his chest, jongseong took the hint and parted ways.

a smirk curled onto his face as he took in your flushed cheeks. “fuck, you’re beautiful.” he murmured, unable to contain his adoration. he leaned in, lips now trailing against your neck. jongseong left a delicate path of butterfly kisses along your neck down to your collarbone. pausing to suck gently at a particular sensitive spot. he lingered for a moment, savoring the intimacy between you.

his head raised up from the crook of your neck. his eyes stared into yours. even if you were still tipsy you could read him. you knew he wanted this badly, yet he had to stop himself. not for his sake but yours.

“i want this so much yn. i really do. but. not while you’re barely sober… i can’t do that too you.” he pressed his forehead against yours.

“i know…” your voice was low knowing this was where it had to end.

jongseong gently released your thigh helping you regain balance on both feet. you yearned for more from him. more from this moment. but deep down, you knew it was for the best.

“i’m gonna leave now. if this is really what i hope it is. please remember in the morning. if you don’t… god i don’t know what i’m gonna do.” jongseong closed his eyes tightly as if pleading for you to remember everything. the kiss, the way his hands held you, even the moment of shared feelings between you.

you cupped his cheek gently, your fingers tracing the warmth of his skin. “i will. i’ll make sure of it.” jongseong exhaled deeply as he leaned into your touch. already dreading the moment he’d have to let it go.

taking the palm of your hand to his lips. he left gentle kisses along your hand. sending a shiver through your body at the ticklish feeling.

“i’ll see you on monday yn.” he whispered while parting ways from the wall. digging into his pocket to place the glasses back on his face. his back turned to you as he adjusted them.

even in your sobering up state, you understood the situation clearly. as much as you longed for him. his body against yours, his lips kissing you feverishly. it didn’t feel right when you weren’t fully sober.

watching jongseong walk into the elevator you softly closed the door. as the door clicked shut, your forehead pressed against the frame. jongseong’s touch still lingered on your body. your fingers shakily grazed against your lips, the events not sinking in yet. your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered a silent prayer. “please, please, please. don’t forget this.”

perm taglist ( open! refer to this post ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek @ijustwannareadstuff20 @sunghoon-cam

©myjjongie 2025

[kurooh]

☆ fluff, with mha spoilers about hawks’ fate (ch. 385&426)

“c’mon, stay still, keigo,” you remind him softly, adjusting the angle of his head with a hand at his chin. “i’m not gonna poke your eye out, don’t worry.”

“it looks really . . pointed,” keigo replies, eyeing the tip of the eyeliner pen cautiously. “and anyway, how’re your hands not shaking that bad?”

“practice,” you shrug, “but your talking is breaking up my concentration, y’know.”

“okay, okay,” he zips his lips and pretends to toss a key over his shoulder. you simply shake your head at keigo’s antics, bringing the tip of the pen to his eye again. this time, he manages to control his flinch enough to not mess up the wing you’re drawing.

keigo had been born with his birdlike quirk, fierce wings, which came along with many other avian characteristics. his astute, piercing golden eyes were a good example of what came along with his quirk. more interestingly, his eyes had always had dark markings around them—sharp lines and wings to further add to his birdlike appearance.

since losing his quirk to all for one on that vile day, in a battle that should’ve been won, keigo lost most of those odd little characteristics, the markings around his eyes being one of them. (of course, he never lost his penchant for fried chicken.) now, as the president of the hero public safety commission, he’s tasked with talking to all kinds of different heroes who certainly know who he used to be.

“you okay, kei? i’m gonna move onto the next eye, baby,” you whisper, so as not to startle him when he’s already gotten this relaxed. he nods, lost in thought.

not long after getting the job, keigo rushed to tell you the excellent news, and ask a simple request of you. he’d looked at you with his striking eyes, the skin around them empty and bare.

“so, y’know the marks i had around my eyes? the black birdie ones?” keigo seriously described it to you as if you’d never seen them a day in your life.

“of course, kei. why . . ?”

“so, i’ve gotta go into work and talk to people every day. i’m still hawks, the cool cool cool retired number two prohero, just without the wings and eye makeup.” his voice drifted off as he patted around behind him, momentarily expecting to be met with the softness of his downy vermillion feathers.

you nodded silently, heart squeezing sadly for him. he chuckled awkwardly and cleared his throat, “anyway, i’d like you to do the eyeliner for me each day. i know, i know, it’s kinda ridiculous, but it would really mean a lot to me.”

keigo looks back wistfully, turning the memory over in his head a few times while you color in the wing and prepare to add the detail to his inner corner, all from memory. as the tip of the pen strokes over the delicate skin, he loosens up more, letting you nudge his face left and right without that nervous stiffness from before.

he notices the way your brows knit in concentration, the tight grip you’ve got on the eyeliner pen, and the lightness in which you use it on him. it’s ridiculous how something so small can mean this much—warmth rises to his cheeks and colors them something rosy.

“and . . done!” you exclaim, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “kei, you’ll love this.”

“lemme see the mirror, dovey,” keigo chuckles happily, gesturing for you to step to the side. as he stares into his reflection in the vanity, he can see red feathers surrounding his shoulders and the space behind them. a squint of his eyes has them fading away, and he clears his throat shakily to focus on the makeup.

behind him, you rest your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them soothingly as though you know what he’s thinking. the black makeup around his eyes and in the inner corners looks natural, complimenting his face perfectly. you’d managed to pull something this accurate off, just from memory—keigo sniffles, rising to his feet from the chair. he envelops you in a strong hug, tucking his face into your neck carefully so as not to smear your work.

“you did such a great job, dovey,” keigo whispers into your skin, fingers squeezing you. “i can’t wait for you to do this for me every morning.”

“really?” you ask, swaying a little with him in your arms. “my makeup skills are that good?”

“of course they are!” he exclaims, “but seriously though, thank you. i felt naked without the eyeliner.”

your cheeks warm and you giggle; keigo’s heart flutters with adoration, no longer grounded. he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, but he steps back curiously, fiddling around with the eyeliner pen. you gasp accusingly—he’d swiped it from you without letting you notice.

he flashes you a silly smile, dangling the pen from his fingertips with mirth sparkling in his gold eyes. “hey, mind if i try on you? we can match!”

[sativariddle]

☆ HOW TO SNEAK INTO A RAVENCLAW PARTY 101:

BASED ON RAVENCLAW!READER. HU NAVIGATION.

▷ [the video opens with theodore and mattheo standing in front of the camera, looking way too confident for two people about to make terrible life choices.]

the screen sharpens as the lens adjusts. a low hum fills the room as blaise, standing behind the camera, taps the record button. the small red light blinks, signaling they’re live. theodore shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders back like he’s preparing for battle. next to him, mattheo runs a hand through his messy curls, cracking his neck slightly before straightening up, his face settling into something that could almost be considered serious - if not for the telltale gleam of trouble in his eyes.

“is it on?” theodore asks, his gaze flicking up to blaise.

blaise barely glances up from the camera screen, giving a lazy thumbs up. “on.”

theodore clears his throat, smirking slightly as he leans forward. “welcome, assho -“ he abruptly stops, grimacing. “no, that was bad. let’s do it again.” blaise exhales sharply, rolling his eyes, but nonetheless stops recording. he presses the button again, lifting his hand in a wordless signal for take two.

theodore doesn’t waste a second. “welcome, to ‘how to sneak into a ravenclaw party 101.’” he swings his elbow into mattheo’s side, prompting him to jump back into reality.

riddle blinks, clearly having spaced out, but recovers fast. “uh - uhm, otherwise known as ‘how to get hexed so badly your own mother won’t recognize you.’” there’s silence. blaise crinkles his nose behind the camera, unimpressed. mattheo, catching the judgment, awkwardly shifts in his seat, eyes darting away.

theodore decides to continue. “we are experts in this field.”

mattheo’s brows knit together, his lips parting slightly in visible confusion. “really?” the disbelief is so genuine that theodore actually turns to stare at him.

he says nothing. just blinks. hard.

choosing to move on rather than acknowledging the idiot, theodore smooths a hand over his shirt and powers forward. “ravenclaws are some of the hardest people to manipulate -“ “- yeah, ‘cause they have brains,” mattheo interrupts, stretching his arms behind his head with an easy smirk.

theodore does not ignore that. “excuse me? i have brains.”

mattheo snorts. “you have half of one.”

and it’s at this moment that theodore seriously contemplates murder. blaise lets out a barely contained chuckle from behind the camera, and theodore’s head snaps toward him like a predator catching movement. “i better not hear any heavy breathing from you when i rewatch this footage.” his voice is stern as he points an accusing finger toward blaise.

completely unbothered, blaise sticks his middle finger up at the camera, effectively blocking theodore from view.

nott exhales sharply through his nose, gathering what little patience he has left, and resumes his explanation. “the thing about ravenclaws is they think they’re smarter than everyone -“

“which they are,” mattheo interjects immediately. facts.

“which they are not,” theodore snaps back, his voice carrying just a bit more frustration now. salty morherfucker.

mattheo stares at him. “dude, even you know that’s a lie.”

theodore holds eye contact with the camera. he does not speak. he does not blink.

mattheo raises an eyebrow, waiting.

theodore exhales. “shut up.” without missing a beat, he carries on. “anyway, we have first hand experience with ravenclaws. i, for one, was just in detention with one -“

▷ [the video cuts abruptly, transitioning to a more composed - yet clearly exaggerated scene. the camera is now focused on you, seated in what can only be described as a “confessional” chair. the lighting is dimmer, dramatic even, casting just the right amount of shadow to make it look like you’re in some sort of witness protection interview rather than part of an idiotic scheme.]

you cross one leg over the other, adjusting slightly in your seat as you let out a long sigh. your expression is one of pure exhaustion, like you’ve been forced to endure nonsense for far too long.

“let’s get one thing straight,” you begin, voice degraded. “the only reason i had detention in the first place was because i was trying to protect my peace.”

▷ [ the camera zooms in slightly, as if to emphasize the seriousness of your words.]

“i simply attempted to cast a small, harmless spell - barely a flick of my wand - at a snake who, in my eyes, completely deserved it. and honestly?” you shrug, tilting your head slightly. “i regret nothing.”

▷ [dramatic pause.]

you lean forward slightly, lowering your voice like you’re about to share some classified information. “if anything, i should’ve aimed better.”

▷ [cut back to mattheo and theodore, who are now watching the playback of your confessional on the camera screen.]

mattheo glanced over at theodore, watching as his friend sat there, blinking repeatedly - like his brain was struggling to process what he had heard. nott scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes as he echoed your words in mock disbelief. “harmless. right. because hexing me is just an act of inner peace, apparently.”

“right, well, moving on - here’s the foolproof way to sneak into a ravenclaw party,” mattheo announced confidently, despite the fact that absolutely nothing about what they were about to do was foolproof.

[CUT TO: STEP ONE – BLENDING IN]

▷ [theodore and mattheo have thrown on blue scarves and glasses, looking painfully out of place.]

“step one — look the part.” mattheo spread his arms out dramatically before doing a full spin, showing off his thrown together outfit. he came to a stop, running a hand through his hair before shooting the camera a smug grin.

“ravenclaws dress like they’re on their way to win an academic decathlon,” he declared.

beside him, theodore adjusted the pair of glasses perched on the tip of his nose. they wobbled slightly, clearly not his prescription, but he made no effort to fix them. instead, he straightened his posture and nodded seriously. “this,” he gestured to himself with both hands, “is how you impress.”

▷ [a ravenclaw guy walks past them, takes one look at theodore, and goes, “you’re an idiot,” before walking off.]

▷ [cut to mattheo and theodore looking defeated.]

“so… that didn’t work.”

as if on cue, the glasses perched precariously on the tip of theodore’s nose finally gave up, slipping off and landing in his lap. at the same time, the ridiculous hat sitting atop mattheo’s curls tilted to the side, threatening to slide off completely.

▷ [awkward silence followed.]

from behind the camera, blaise casually blew into a small, crumpled party horn he had apparently found on the floor. the weak, pathetic squeak it let out only made the moment even worse.

[CUT TO: STEP TWO - ANSWERING THE RIDDLE]

▷ [they stand in front of the ravenclaw common room door. the knocker asks: “what is always coming but never arrives?”]

theodore turned to mattheo, still nursing the wound to his ego after catching a completely unprovoked insult from a passing ravenclaw boy during step one.

he was looking for some kind of reassurance, maybe even a distraction. what he got instead was mattheo blinking at him, having no answer to the knocker, completely clueless, before responding:

“your mother.”

▷ [the door does not open.]

▷ [the camera zoomed in on theodore’s blank expression, capturing the exact moment he realized he had made a grave mistake.]

theodore exhales sharply, his fingers twitching at his sides as an overwhelming urge to slap the absolute shit out of mattheo takes over. giving in, he grunts and smacks the back of riddle’s head - not hard enough to actually hurt, but just enough to make a statement.

“what is wrong with you?” theodore demands, exasperation leaking into every word. “it’s always ‘mother this, mother that’ — for the love of your mother, shut the fuck up!”

blaise mutters from behind the camera, “he has mommy issues.” mattheo nods. “i have mommy issues.”

▷ [the video abruptly shifts, the camera following you as you casually stroll past the trio, completely unbothered. your eyes flick to theodore, brows furrowing in clear confusion - silently asking, why are you near my common room?]

theodore shoots you an equally confused look right back, as if you’re the one in the wrong for questioning his presence.

ignoring them, you mutter your password under your breath, the entrance smoothly swinging open as you slip inside without a second glance.

▷ [the camera lingers on the now sealed entrance before slowly panning back to theodore and mattheo, who exchange a look. then, in unison, they turn to blaise — desperate, hopeful.]

SPOILER ALERT: not a single one of them had caught the password you said.

[CUT TO: STEP THREE – BRIBERY]

▷ [theodore is holding a bag of galleons and talking to a smug looking ravenclaw.]

the two slytherins prowled around the seated ravenclaw boy like wolves circling their prey, each taking turns trying to intimidate him. theodore leaned in just enough to invade his personal space, while mattheo cracked his knuckles dramatically. it was a well rehearsed routine - one that usually worked.

but not on this fucking guy.

theodore finally stopped directly in front of him, leveling him with a look before sighing and pulling out the ultimate slytherin bargaining chip. “i’ll give you money if you let us in.”

the ravenclaw didn’t even flinch. he didn’t look scared, intimidated, or even remotely bothered. in fact, if anything, he looked amused.

and that pissed theodore the fuck off.

the boy simply shrugged, tilting his head toward the entrance. “the door’s right there. just answer the riddle.”

▷ [the camera zoomed in on theodore’s expression before panning to mattheo, who dramatically threw his hands in the air and pointed at the ravenclaw in sheer disbelief.]

“i hate you,” mattheo declared.

[CUT TO: STEP FOUR – THE DISTRACTION PLAN ]

▷ [mattheo is standing in front of a group of ravenclaws with a dramatic expression.]

mattheo glanced over at blaise and theodore, who were crouched behind a bush, the camera angle perfectly capturing the scene without alerting the group of ravenclaws to their presence.

riddle inhaled deeply. with one final glance at his friends, he took a step forward, his voice booming across the courtyard. “THERE’S A FIRE IN THE LIBRARY!”

▷ [the camera pans to show that literally no one reacts because, realistically, that’s the last place a ravenclaw would let burn down.]

[CUT TO: STEP FIVE – PLAN B]

▷ [mattheo and theodore simply attempt to sprint past a group of ravenclaws at the entrance.]

▷ [they are immediately hexed.]

▷ [the camera jerks suddenly, refocusing as it zooms in on you. you’re visibly tipsy, eyes slightly glazed, grinning from ear to ear as you wave at the lens, clearly having the time of your life.]

▷ [mattheo and theodore, now covered in hexes, sitting in defeat outside the common room.]

“this is your fault,” theodore says, pointing an accusing finger directly at mattheo’s forehead, as if the source of all his frustration was written in plain sight. mattheo blinked slowly, looks completely unfazed and murmurs, “i think i have tentacles.”

▷ [FINAL CUT: camera pans to show mattheo absolutely does have tentacles sprouting from his arms.]

[chishiyasbiscuits]

naked! || kyuma x reader xo

[3.2k words.] [Warning: Lovely smut. Public-fucking. Kyuma's so sweet. Wholesome, basic sex apart from the fact they're on opposing sides of a death game😕 Slight, slight bit of angst at the end, because...yeah.]

I wasn't too sure how I had reached this exact moment. Where the lights around me seemed to dim, with every passing minute, and with every sharp ding from the looming boards above us. As if I was already being granted death. Straight on a silver plate, gleaming with an array of not meat, but misery. 

Silence coated our once enthusiastic cluster. It had seemed almost like the calm before a storm, and my pessimistic self couldn't help but wonder if our party were bound to exit this game...or not. "There's still a way.." Usagi breathed. Whether she was speaking out to a particular person, the entire group or herself I wasn't sure, but her words were slicked in a sympathetic amount of wavering hope. Her frantic gaze met Arisu's in an awkward staring contest. He swallowed, before averting his gaze all while pulling his chapped lips into a thin line. "Come on.." Her voice became drained. Battered by the lack of interaction we bestowed upon her. 

Her straight posture slipped up, and her shoulders melted into a somewhat lazy position. "Arisu?" She questioned lightly. The male shrugged, and her breath caught the air as she exhaled. The deep sensation of dread within me had began to bubble down, and now I believe I had come to terms with my fate. Ever looming in both the present and future. It was bound to happen amidst these treacherous territories anyway. In a game, mixed with the members of a band - one of which, was extremely attractive - out of all likelihoods. 

My simple mind flickered back to those recent memories. Kyuma Ginji, or known to the participants as the King of Clubs. Being classed as royalty was attractive enough, but the man also had his appealing nature to add to the alluring mix. He appeared to us ass-naked, and showing off every inch of his glorious body. Tanned skin, luscious and gleaming against the glistening sunlight. Flexed muscles, with every subtle movement. The way his abs were so defined, and his features were so striking. Not to mention his captivating locks - medium length, dark and draped around his neck. The urge to knit my fingers within the strands was irresistible. There was also, of course, the mere and plain fact that although he possessed such bewitching beauty, this man was also charming. Polite, well-mannered, a gentleman, undeniably good in bed...

My eyes tore themselves from the concrete I had unknowingly set them on. Instead, flicking up to meet the one's of Usagi. Her lashes fell in the form of a few blinks, before she flashed me a downcast smile. Her spirit had been dampened, as I could tell by the way she questioned aid from the others, while being demoralized. "Y/n.." She whispered. The others glanced at me - their expressions dejected. 

"I'll help." I replied, and her forlorn look tilted up into a shocked, but also relieved grin. "Really?" She breathed in disbelief. I hummed, lowering my head into a nod. After all, I still had a good portion of my points, and so out of us all, I was least likely to be caught out in a battle. "Thank you, Y/n." She bowed, before twisting her energized body toward the maze of shipment containers. "I'll look for items." She explained, pausing to catch her increasing breath. Much as a result of excitement. "Would you mind finding any way to obtain points?" She questioned, eyes meeting mine for a split moment. "Any way?" I asked, wetting my lips with my tongue. I uncrossed my arms, and lifted my back into a straight, more engaged posture. "Yeah, okay. Good idea." 

It had been what felt like hours. Though in reality, as I had expected, the time I had spent searching neared to about...five minutes. My thoughts continuously drifted to the bare skin and flesh of Kyuma. His pecs, his biceps, his...

My lip entered the space between my teeth, while I captured my thought process and brought it back into the game. My body reached an area, where the containers seemed to have already been searched. A blue one, darkened by use and shades of coppery rust, sat in my vision. 

I was mere seconds away from entering the shadowed space, when the gorgeous, bare skinned man of my daydreams appeared from the shade. Kyuma Ginji. Fuck. My chest tightened almost instantly, and any words or breaths I could have dared let out were caught - pathetically - in the narrow of my throat. I swallowed desperately, in an attempt to clear the contracting my body was set on doing. 

The man gifted a kind smile. While he walked, confidence in his painstakingly slow step. From the way his eyes turned crescent-shaped, and his lips pulled further up his face, I knew he could clearly see my prying eyes. Dragging down his physique, and landing on his cock. So obvious, between his legs. Thick, big, tanned - like the rest of his glowing frame. A shameful gulp brought words to my ears, and I cursed, tearing my gaze from his length. "There's no need for you to be nervous." He spoke, casting me a knowing glance. I could have melted. I felt so miniscule beneath his stare. It was almost arousing - being in the presence of his godly anatomy. Who am I kidding, it was arousing. 

"Do you wish to battle?" He questioned, after he was met with puzzling silence. I flicked my gaze between his eyes. "Yes." The word slipped, almost without my intention. To be fair, I didn't really know why I had agreed to the offer. After all, if I screwed this our team were more than likely to be left limp and lifeless. Lost in this maze. Simple reminders to the next visitors that life was only short, and easily cut. He seemed amused by my enthusiasm to fight, even if all I had to do was set my palm on any expansion of his skin. 

"Very well then." He smirked. Moving into position with so much grace, I had started to think this entire plan was fucked. Why the king? Was I fucking dumb? Stupid? My mind returned to the heated moment, when he breathed out. Setting his arms in a simple fighting stance. "Are you nervous?" He questioned, and I arched my brows. "No." I muttered, positioning myself in return. My foot slid in front of me, against the smooth, grey concrete. His smile stretched, and my chest rose. Still feeling cramped beneath the anxiety I had first felt when I set my eyes on him. "Do I make you nervous?" He repeated. His strong, deep voice circled my ears, dripping against my mind like a sweetened honey. "Stop distracting me." I spoke abruptly. His brows raised and he slipped himself closer. Strutting toward me like a cat, about to pounce on it's well-deserved prey. 

"Am I not supposed to?" He questioned. "You're on the opposing team. Do you expect me to just give it to you, so easily?" 

I inhaled, breathing out the air through my teeth. My arms fell to my sides, and I lifted my head. Locking my glare with his patient eyes. He was in close proximity now, and any part of my body was accessible to him. Kyuma could have easily reached out and softly flattened his palm against my arm, but no. He hesitated. Plainly standing, centimetres from my figure, and caressing my form with his teasing eyes. So near, yet so far. "Why aren't you touching me?" I whispered, brows furrowing in complex confusion. Kyuma raised his thin brows, lips rising into a taunting smile. "Touch you?" He repeated. "Do you want me to?"

 I averted my gaze, searching my surroundings while I thought. "What if I do?" I smiled, and flicked my eyes to his once more. A slight sense of shock tainted his face, but really, his features seemed to light up at the straightforward reply. "You're a nice guy.." I started. My mind was brought back to Usagi's pleading stare. Her yearn for survival. It was us who deserved to win, however much it appeared as selfish. These were people who had the choice, surely. They wanted to be royalty. Citizens of this land. It was in no way my fault, nor Usagi's. I was going to get this information from him, and the points of course. For her, for me, for us. 

"Do you mind doing a deal with me?" I asked, feigning innocence through both my eyes and misleading smile. His gaze narrowed, just slightly, before he tilted his head - letting his stygian hair brush his well-built shoulder. "Interesting." His lowered face morphed into a smirk. "What might this deal be?" He asked, even when he was smart enough to know the answer. 

"I'll let you fuck me." I said sincerely, watching the tint in his eyes switch. His modest smile slipped to an unchaste smirk. "In exchange for both points and information." I finished. Hope flushed my features while he paused. Tilting his chin up to the sky, as his palm landed on his hip. He intentionally dragged out his reply, puffing air from his parted lips. Glistening with saliva. "That was unexpected from you." He returned, twisting his jaw and linking his stare with mine. "But?" I cut. "Deal." He whispered, softly bringing his arm to his front. His fingers were splayed, and waiting patiently for the warmth of my palm. I smiled in satisfaction, proudly lacing my fingers through his. Squeezing his skin, and shaking his calloused hand. 

The subtle chime sounded, and the board displayed the shameful point extraction. I, however, didn't dare shy away from the man's gaze. Too wrapped up in his bare beauty. I had the very clear option of removing myself - unambiguously stealing his points, and leaving the king in the dirt - but I didn't. Lust had completely bulldozed my common sense, and his body - flush against mine - was all I ached for. 

My hands buried themselves in his silky locks, while his palms found my desperate waist. He brought me against his pelvis, before dragging his fingers up my back and bringing them to rest on my heated cheeks. Kyuma never paused for a second too long, delicately pressing his smooth lips to mine. The act of lust turned ruthless, as if the desire was only just setting in. I gasped and my fingers folded through his hair. Clutching at the strands, where his tips were dampened by sweat. I could feel him. His muscles tensing, his heartbeat pulsing...His cock, growing harder by the second, and straining between the thin space of my stomach and his abdomen. 

Kyuma pulled away, taking a finger and softly sweeping any loose hair behind my ear. His head drifted to my jaw, and his breath pricked against the sensitive skin - sending shivers across my spine. "I'm surely making you nervous now." He whispered rhetorically. A smile formed against the skin of my neck, and I forced the build-up of saliva down my throat. 

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He questioned. His thumbs found my sides, and as his hands cupped my hips, they drew circles across the skin. I held my breath at the close proximity. How he continued rubbing the flesh, while trailing his soft fingers to my inner thighs. "If you wish for me to stop, do say so." Kyuma whispered, and when he earned a faint whimper, he moved on. His index finger - long and slim - trawled between the folds of my aching pussy. Still clothed, and begging for his bare cock. He then gripped my thigh with his hands, holding me up against his chest, and taking me cautiously toward the container. I was dropped, and my back met with the cool surface. The gentle cold only greeted me for a second before I was being handled once more. By strong, caring hands. Large and veiny. His long fingers wrapped across the skin of my thigh, and I was brought towards his pelvis, where my longing legs curved around the sides of his waist. 

Kyuma's hard cock pressed against my abdomen. Pulsing on my skin, and leaking with pure arousal. Pre-cum dribbled from his sensitive tip, and landed against the flesh. Painting me with his lewd pleasure. I tempted the thought before grinding down on his girthy length. Giving his patience a hard time, as I rolled. Bucking softly across him and smiling in bliss at the cute twitches his cock granted me. The strands of his hair were now slick with sweat, and they dangled across his eyes like darkened curtains. Shielding the thirst in his sensual glare. 

"Is there a way out of this place?" I asked between strangled breaths. Pushing my dripping core against his cock. He exhaled lowly, tossing his head back and clearing his vision. His head fell back. "Perhaps." He grunted lightly. I swallowed dryly, lowering my hands to tug on my clothes. Kyuma assisted, as the gentleman he was - lifting my t-shirt over my raised arms, and guiding my hands down my calves as the material was stripped from my skin. I was now bare, pressed against his golden skin. Gleaming brightly in the blinding sun. "Tell me." I commanded, throat swelling as his cock pulsed on my clit. Bringing me almost to a moaning mess. I was already leaking on this man's dick, and he was so composed. Back straight and muscles flexed with every movement he took. His hand dropped to stroke at his base. I bit my lip, and resorted to watching. Following his fingers as they folded around his shaft and positioned his swollen tip at my entrance. The head slipped between my folds and I whimpered impatiently, brazenly throwing my head back against the metal behind me. Kyuma slid himself inside, stretching my walls with his thick girth. His cock filled me so well, gifting me both the pleasure, and the soft twang of pain that came with his length. 

His hips moved forward, after allowing me to adjust, and his dick slid further, gracing my walls with it's smooth movements. "You're wise. Do you not already know?" He grunted. "I want to hear it from you.." I stated, letting my hands find his shoulders. I stabilised myself as he pushed into me. Rutting and bucking. Filling me to the brim with each thrust. Sweat glimmered across his perfect complexion, and my eyes scanned his focused features. Taken by concentration as he fucked into me. Our hips connected with each jolt of his lower body, and his cock was beginning to bury deeper. "You're correct." He breathed. "Whatever you believe you must do."

"Complete all the games.." I murmured, before tensing at the way my words became caught in my throat. I moaned lightly, and his bliss-taken face was enough to tell me he was enjoying the show. "Yeah.." He whispered, too caught up in the way he stroked my insides, catching my spot with his tip. "Fuck.." I cursed, moans muffled by my lips. "Don't stop.."

"Oh, I'd be ignorant if I did." The man replied, head dropping near my neck and shoulder. "You look so irresistible when I'm inside you.." Kyuma whispered, hair tickling my cheek while I gasped. My eyes flickered, and the pleasure was starting to rush through me, in waves of electric ecstasy. Shooting into my stomach, and twisting a knot against my organs. I was so close, and the deep breaths against my ear were orgasm-inducing. Just as much as his cock was, sinking into me repeatedly. He groaned, and the sound reached my head instantly. The pleasing sound went straight to my aching pussy, and I cried out. Feeling overwhelmed in the presence of this gorgeous man. In this dirty, lustful, sexual act, where he fucked me shamelessly in the middle of nowhere. Against nothing but a shipment container, and with every ram the metal shook. 

"Just like that." Kyuma whispered. His voice low and appreciative. "You take me so well.." 

"Kyuma, please!" I moaned, almost whining under the sensation of my oncoming high. My stomach tensed and I unintentionally clenched around his pulsing cock. He grunted, plunging deeper as I started to string out my pleasure in the form of high-pitched moans. "Ssh, just a little longer, love." He spoke calmly, still mindful of our location. "Good girl." He praised when I complied his gentle words, and held back the rushing moans that attacked the small of my throat. I hummed in bliss. Closing my lashes at both the name and the undoing thrust of his dick. The hum dragged out while I came on his cock. Dropping myself against his balls in desperation as I released and milked the remnants of my pleasure. 

Kyuma let slip a delightful groan. His hair fell, once more, across his eyes, and his lips were forced together. I could see the veins in his neck flex, and the expanse of his skin flinch with how hard he had been focusing. His cock slid in and out of me, bringing waves upon waves of gratification. Until he snapped. He released a soft, extended groan, which melted against my ears, and with that his cock twitched and spilling inside of me. My insides were undeniably painted white with his warm arousal, and even when his flaccid cock was removed from my soaked entrance, the cum slipped like pure slick down my thighs. 

The man swallowed, catching back his lost breath. Spent on fucking me useless. His glistening chest, and pecs heaved from the lack of oxygen. I followed his actions, slicking back the loose strands of wet hair, that blurred my already foggy vision. "I'm sorry." I blurted, back flushed against the container while I rested. "There's no need to apologize." Kyuma smiled. His features warm and not in the slightest condescending. He granted me his soft eyes, which I frowned at. Sympathy lined my tight lips. "You only wished to survive." He continued, dragging his hot palm against my neck. It landed on my damp cheek, where his thumb rubbed the skin of my face. "It's admirable of you." He praised before taking in my constant expression. Like a guilty picture, plastered to my phony smile. "You earned it, didn't you?" He asked and my lips twitched. "I want you to live." He brought our faces closer, and whispered. "I liked you, you know." I looked off, speaking between harsh breaths. "It wasn't...it wasn't just me wanting information.." 

"I figured." He released a breathless laugh at my confession. I smiled, and cast my eyes to the concrete floor. Kyuma gently set his thumb on my chin, lifting my head up with his forefinger. "If only we had somehow met in a different life."

I hummed, getting cut off by an update on the time our both teams had remaining. Kyuma raised his head to the side, showcasing his sharp jawline. He sighed softly. "You best meet with your teammates." He spoke, looking back to meet my firm nod. "When you are given the chance, choose to leave this world." He instructed, loosening his grip on my cheek, and slipping his warm touch from my skin. "Thank you, Kyuma." I smiled, stepping from his body, and casting his godly form one last glance. He dropped his head, smiling at my mannered response. 

"No. Thank you, Y/n." 

[whispers-on-the-wind]

Potion Woes

Summary: In which Reader attempts to hide pain from the Chain. Four catches onto it, and makes Reader take a potion.

You were fairly used to pain. 

The dull ache in your limbs after an intense workout, the debilitating pain of menstrual cramps. You lived a fairly active lifestyle, the pain was something you were accustomed to. 

You had been thrown into a tree by a moblin during the last battle, and your back was killing you. The other chain had more serious injuries, you reasoned with yourself. You could ask for help later, if Hyrule offered you a willow tea you wouldn’t decline. Willow was abundant, potions were not. 

You lagged behind the rest of the Chain, not blind to their concerned glances rather choosing to ignore them. You trained your gaze on your boots, focusing on the leathers grain to distract you. You listened to the light footsteps made by the chain, the occasional whispered conversation passed between the brothers. 

Four fell into line besides you, staying there. He walked in silence, and you almost thought you could get away with the silence. That was a short lived thought.

“Are you okay?” The smaller prodded, red and violet eyes scanning over you. You nodded your head, not looking at him too long. He eyed you suspiciously as you stumbled, wincing. He opened his mouth to comment, as you screwed your eyes shut. 

You were grateful when he didn’t pry, a breath of relief escaping you. Your back was throbbing, but you were used to it. There wasn’t a reason to bother the others, you were sure each of them had gone with worse injuries for longer. Plus this was minor. You repeated the mantra in your head, this wasn’t bad. 

Perhaps you would make yourself forget it…

__________

Four was unsettled. You were clearly in pain, but were too busy nursing your pride to bring it up. It was stupid! They had just restocked in the last village, they had plenty of potions, but you were too stubborn to accept help.

You lagged behind the rest of the group, Four was not going to accept this. If he had to sit on you and force red potion down your throat to ease your pain he would. He made a promise to himself to monitor your behaviour, he was certain you were in more pain than you let on. 

He followed behind you, keeping an eye on the way you walked. You stumbled over an exposed root, letting out a sharp gasp of pain. Four was grasping at the last straws of his patience; He wanted to help you. You were in pain, he had the very thing to help you! Four shut his mouth once more, his brow knitted in concern. He wouldn't bring it up. If you were afraid of ridicule he would wait. He couldn’t fathom why, but he would respect your space unless anything else came up. 

For all his brothers were worth, they took you at your word far too easily. It was oh so simple, to lie and say you were okay with a smile. You had a brilliant poker face, he had relished in Legend’s pain as he lost games against you. His brothers were well aware of your ability to lie and go undetected. He supposed that a lot happened during the battle; But nobody's injuries were left untreated. 

Was it because this was your first adventure? He himself prioritized Zelda, he ran himself ragged far too many times to count. If it weren’t for Ezlo, he wouldn't have taken his own health seriously. He still found it hard to prioritize himself over others at times.

Was that your belief? Were you under the assumption that their pain was worse so yours was irrelevant? There were endless possibilities, none of which comforted him. Later, he resolved; Later he would confront you and get you to take something. 

_________

By the time camp was set up that night, everyone was exhausted. You sighed, flattening your back against your bedroll. Your shoulders sagged, you were content. You tried to ignore the throb in your back and focus on your positive feelings. You were full of whatever meal Wild served, and had no further obligations for the rest of the night. 

You looked up at the stars, speckled across the night sky. Hyrule was gorgeous; The lack of light pollution showing the night sky in its true beauty, shades of blues and royal purples twisting across the sky. 

It reminded you of the oil paintings you saw back home, delicately captured on canvases. It helped take your mind off your issues, imaging how one could capture the scene in front of you with delicate strokes. 

Your vision was interrupted by Four. The hero stood over you dawning a white undershirt compared to the colorful tunic he usually dawned. Four smiled softly, crouching down. “Hey.” He greeted, soft eyes scanning over you. “I want to talk.” He whispered, cautious to not stir the sleeping heroes nearby. 

You shut your eyes, exhaling before pushing yourself into a sitting position. You grimaced as your back curved, pulling your attention away from Four. 

Unfortunately, Four noticed. “Okay, this has to stop.” He affirmed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. He only stood about a head above you while you were sitting, your height difference was very noticeable. You couldn't help a small chuckle. 

“I know you're hurting.” He cut straight to the chase, his abruptness startling you.

You paused, trying to formulate an answer that wouldn't incriminate you. “No.” You spoke lamely, only to receive an unamused look from the hero. 

“Why don’t I believe it?” Four cocked a brow. You looked down, sighing. 

“I’m not going to ask much, just that you drink this.” Four spoke, showing you a red potion he had concealed. “Save it.” 

Four leveled you with an unimpressed glare. You opened your mouth to protest again, before he thrust it into your hands. “Drink.” He ordered.

You eyed the potion with disgust. “We need to preserve resources.” You muttered. 

“Okay, that's bullshit. We have plenty of potions, Wild has elixirs, we are okay.” You opened your mouth only to be cut off once more by Four. “And! We have ingredients for Wild. So help me Hylia, either you will drink this or I will make you.”  For added emphasis he uncorked the vial in your hands. 

“Four-” You weakly denied, getting cut off once more. 

“Drink.” He directed again, cupping his small sturdy hands around yours bringing the vial up. You glared, reluctantly before drinking the foul liquid. The taste was almost made up for by the instant relief blossoming in your back. 

Four retrieved the vial from your hands, looking you in the eye. “Thank you.” He murmured, stepping backwards. “Please. Don’t minimize your pain again, we all care about you.” 

You nodded slowly, the embers of guilt planing themselves in your soul and burning. Four nodded, retreating to the center of camp. 

For that night, you slept peacefully. 

___________

A gift for my friend @portraitofalinkonfyre!

[folkloresthings]

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.

in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.

( charles leclerc x singer!au )

track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.

✩⡱ warnings: some swearing, sexual reference

IMESSAGE.

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y/nontour y/n in berlin tonight 🫶

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user she’s so slay

user the fact she was crying during the next song too 😭

user poor girl’s had her heart broken twice in the space of six months

user charles done fucked up big time

touring through heartbreak was quite possibly the hardest thing to be done. city after city, having to get on stage every night with a smile on your face, all while wondering what you had done wrong. thankfully, your fans were as supportive when you were sad as they were when you were happy.

but you’d never felt lonelier. after three years of a relationship with austin, you were sure you could never trust another like that again. and mere weeks later came charles leclerc, snatching up your heart and making you blind to any hurt you’d felt before. you were brand new with him, and he had trampled it under his pretty foot.

curled up on the bed of this week’s hotel, an old rerun playing mindlessly on the television, you stared straight ahead at the wall — only pulled out of such a trance when a knock sounded at the door. thinking it was only room service, you dragged yourself to the door’s entrance, only to find lewis hamilton stood on the other side.

“lew? what are you doing here?” you questioned, brows knitting together. he stepped inside, not saying a word other than pulling you into a hug. if it weren’t for the fact you were dried of tears, you’d have broken down.

“thought you could use a friend,” he told you, a fond smile on his face. but there was something in his eyes, something he was battling with. “but, about charles… i really think you should hear him out.”

“lewis, please don’t.”

“he fucked up, i know that. but i saw him with that girl the night of the party. he was practically trying to shove her off of him, and when he knew you’d been and left he went straight after you.”

you were crying now, afraid of what the real truth was. “what about the picture of him and her leaving together?”

“come on, y/n. you know the media better than anyone. she probably followed him out and they’ve made it look like something different.”

you sighed, leaning your head against your friend’s shoulder. your chest was heavy with a decision to be made. the risk of trusting him again, of trusting anyone, only to be caught up in a vicious cycle of heartbreak.

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yourusername life lately ❤️‍🩹 oh and my new single “opposite” is out now btw

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zendaya new music!!! my life is improved

user a song after the charles drama??? TEA

lizzo pop off queen 👑

lilymhe how can you still look so pretty when crying 💔💔💔

user charles leclerc better count his days

TWITTER.

IMESSAGE.

writers note: it’s concerning how attached i am to this parasocial relationship. petition for sab and charles to date because they’d be such a sexy couple

tagged: @leclercloml @vroomleclerc @gaviypedrisbride

[nerdallwritey]

Don't! Cross! This! Line! With Your Hand.

Summary: “I’ll tell you what, they didn’t call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy’ for nothing.” He made to hand you the instrument, then snatched it back just as quickly. “They DIDN’T call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy,’ they called me ‘Astarion the BLOODTHIRSTY, who KILLS whoever doesn’t give Astarion exactly what he wants in the moment that he wants it! Which is RIGHT NOW when I had better get my back read out to me!’” You looked at him with wide eyes, trying and nearly failing to withhold a laugh. He was trying to play this game with you. He really was. But you could see how desperately he wanted answers, too.  Astarion, in turn, puffed his chest out as if trying to stand his ground.  Just a little longer with the teasing, then you’d help him. “That’s what they called you?” you asked. Astarion looked up as if trying to grasp what exactly he should say next. “It was… shorter in Elvish.” OR Astarion asks for help with reading the scars on his back. You give him a hard time in the process. NOTE: This is a crack fic is based on this scene from Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian.

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: Mature Word count: 2.1k CW: strong-ish language, stupidity, Night at the Museum 2 Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: I wrote this back in March of 2024, WAAAAAAYYY before I ever posted An Evening to Ourselves. It was never supposed to see the light of day and yet, here we are. I recently reached 300 followers on this account and was encouraged by @vividiana and @khywren to post this crack fic as a celebration of sorts. Here's what I wrote in the google doc I originally wrote this piece in: "I wrote this purely because I love this dumb scene a lot and I thought it was a funny dynamic between Astarion and my Tav. It’s bad. It’s good. It is what it is." Please enjoy!

There it was. Your precious lute. Wood worn from loving hands cradling it through years of song. Haphazardly shoved into the back of a tent with jars full of what you assumed was the blood of wild animals. Rags and other miscellaneous objects thrown on top of it to try and hide it from view. Nothing too heavy though. She’d sing another day.

You KNEW Astarion had taken it. The bastard.

He’d begged you to stop playing when you were working out a tune on the way to the Risen Road. He’d begged you to stop playing when you made your way back to camp. It hardly seemed fair that he would take it and hide it while you were helping Gale with dinner. You couldn’t help that annoying him was one of your favorite pastimes.

Still, he hadn’t destroyed the instrument as he had threatened to do so eloquently. That was something. Though Astarion rarely ever made good on his threats to you or your prized possessions.

Puffing out a short breath to move a strand of hair out of your face, you crouched, doing your best to mimic what your resident rogue might do in this situation. Looking around, Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Strange, given the time of evening - perfect time to ignore everyone and read something he’d picked up on the road - but you couldn’t complain. Here was the perfect time to take back what was rightfully yours.

On your hands and knees you crawled forward, ducking your head under the low flap of his tent. Gently, you removed the debris covering the beloved instrument, and scurried backwards again to make off with your loot.

“Stoooooop-” you heard a familiar voice bellow from the treeline, “-right there, darling.”

Spinning on your heel, you turned to greet an irritated, and shirtless, Astarion. His brows were knit together in a scowl as he marched towards you. Specks of blood littered his skin. He must have just come from a hunt.

“Evening, Astarion,” you chirped innocently. “Were you out hunting for a shirt?”

He ignored your quip and instead got up into your personal space. Thrown off by his proximity, you dropped your guard a bit, allowing him to reach forward and snatch the lute out of your hands.

“Give me that!” you lunged after his hand but he held the instrument out of your reach.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he tisked. “First, you’re going to do something for me.” He turned to give you a look at his back.

You were met with the intricate scar you’d only seen a handful of times before. Once when you’d accidentally come across him washing his shirt in a nearby stream, and another the morning following the Tiefling party after you’d spent the night with him.

The intricate patterns drove a dull ache through your heart. Astarion had mentioned it had been carved into his skin over the course of a single night by his ruthless master, Cazador. You scrunched your nose and scowled at the thought, then softened, feeling sympathy for the man before you. Speaking of-

“I know a few healing spells, but I don’t think they’d help with this,” you said, genuinely.

“Obviously not,” Astarion spat over his shoulder. Then he sighed. “Sorry, I- That’s not what I meant. I was wondering if you could help me read them. The scars. I’ve been trying to read them by touch, but I can’t. They may as well be written in Rashimi.”

You crossed your arms and examined his back. You recognized the language of the runes: Infernal. Your eyes zeroed in on the lute in his hand. Might as well have some fun if he insisted on being annoying.

“I’ll help you read your back,” you said, a teasing lilt in your tone, “when you release my lute and give it back to me.”

Astarion turned again to face you and caught a mischievous look in your eye. You saw him mirror it. He knew you’d read the scars for him. But a game was afoot.

He straightened his posture and lifted his head in a way you’d seen him do dozens of times now: I’m better than you. I’m looking down on you. Come here and I’ll snatch you right up.

“I shall release what I want to release the moment I want to release it.”

You snorted. “Great. And I’ll read what I want to read at the exact moment that I want to read it, okay?”

Astarion huffed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Tell me what it says right now or I shall destroy ALL your instruments, starting with the little worn out piece of driftwood here.” He waggled the lute by its neck lamely to punctuate his point.

“It’s spruce!” you feigned offense. “Fine, if you’re not gonna give me back my lute, then I’m never going to help you translate the Infernal on your back.”

Astarion’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Infernal… what was that bastard up to?” His eyes flicked back to yours. “Alright,” he said. “Alright.”

“Good,” you said, leaning forward for the lute.

Astarion tilted back a little, keeping his grip firmly on the lute. You gave him a look of confusion.

“I’ll tell you what, they didn’t call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy’ for nothing.” He made to hand you the instrument, then snatched it back just as quickly. “They DIDN’T call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy,’ they called me ‘Astarion the BLOODTHIRSTY, who KILLS whoever doesn’t give Astarion exactly what he wants in the moment that he wants it! Which is RIGHT NOW when I had better get my back read out to me!’”

You looked at him with wide eyes, trying and nearly failing to withhold a laugh. He was trying to play this game with you. He really was. But you could see how desperately he wanted answers, too. 

Astarion, in turn, puffed his chest out as if trying to stand his ground. 

Just a little longer with the teasing, then you’d help him.

“That’s what they called you?” you asked.

Astarion looked up as if trying to grasp what exactly he should say next. “It was… shorter in Elvish.”

“Great, well, I’ll read your back after you give me back-” you reached forward once more for the lute and your fingers brushed one of the strings, letting out a soft trill. 

“How dare you,” Astarion pivoted on his heel away from you. “If you touch that again, I shall kill you right now.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. For all his talk, you knew Astarion would never hurt you intentionally. 

He pointed at the lute and continued: “Do not touch this. This is a no touching zone.” He waved his free hand in front of the lute, drawing an invisible barrier through the air. 

“Good! Well, then-” you reached out and strummed a few of the strings that were within your reach.

Astarion angled his body to cut you off. “Oh my gods,” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe you reached across like that.”

Again, you tried extremely hard to keep yourself from laughing. 

Astarion smiled and kept going. “I can’t even believe it. Oh, gods, I want to kill you right- If I didn’t need you to read my back you’d be- you’d be so dead right now, it would be unbelievable.”

For all his practiced words and charm, he was failing miserably at threatening you articulately. You both knew it but neither of you would be the one to break first.

“Great, but you DO need my help to read your back.”

Astarion used his free hand again to dramatically redraw the barrier between you and his arm holding your lute. “Don’t! Cross! This! Line! With your hand.”

“No-”

“How dare you-”

“What I’m saying is-”

“If you speak again-”

“Nobody else-”

“If you SPEAK again, I’m GOING to kill you. Do you understand?”

You attempted to give an answer to this, but the vampire cut you off gleefully.

“Don’t say any- Oh gods I see you getting ready-”

“I wasn’t-”

“Oh my gods! Don’t say anything!”

Sucking in your lips and holding your breath, you did your best to remain nonchalant. Astarion could see you were about to break. He leaned in and lowered his voice.

“I shall murder you if you talk again. Now would you please… read what's on my damn back?” He turned once again to show you the pattern in his skin. You took this as your chance to snatch your lute back.

Your hand connected with the instrument. “Okay, after you give this back to me.”

Astarion slowly turned back to you, feigning disbelief and using his free hand to clutch at his chest in mock pain. “You did both! You spoke, and you reached your hand across!” He whipped his arm holding the lute back to his side, forcing you to let go.

“Look,” you said, placing your hands on your hips, “I could do this with you all night, okay?”

“How about this?” Astarion moved his hand to the pegboard of the lute and brought his free hand to the base. He then kicked the back of your knee, making you shift off balance, and finally came around behind you, holding the neck of the lute against your throat. “How about I DON’T kill you right now like I really, REALLY want to, and I give you precisely five seconds to read what’s been carved into my back.”

“Oh my gooooooods,” came another voice. “You two need to stop flirting so loudly around the rest of us.”

Karlach meandered over, dragging her hands down her face indicating she’d heard enough. 

“Astarion, the infernal on your back doesn’t say anything specific. It’s part of some larger devilish pact or some shit. I can’t be fucked.”

You both looked to Karlach and then back at each other. Astarion released you from the “threatening” hold he had you in and the pair of you turned to face your tiefling friend. 

“Karlach,” Astarion started, “you know how to read?”

The flames that surrounded Karlach’s body burned brightly for a moment. “Of course I know how to read, you absolute twat hat.”

That made you start to laugh in earnest.

“And you, soldier!” Karlach focused her attention on you and you immediately shut up. “If you’re gonna bang fangs, good for you by the way, but if you’re gonna bang fangs, have the decency to keep it down? Some of us are really pent up and can’t do anything about it.”

You cringed inwardly. “So sorry, we’ll keep it down from now on.” you elbowed Astarion.

“Ow! Yes, sure, sorry.”

“Good. Now put a shirt on, fancy boy.” With that, Karlach made her way back to her tent. 

The both of you stayed quiet for another moment.

“Still feel like murdering me?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Great. Turn around.” You knelt down in the dirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Turn around,” you repeated.

Astarion did as he was told and turned to show you his back. You stared for a moment, then took to drawing it in the dusty ground in front of you. When you were done, you patted Astarion’s calf and he turned back to face you.

“What in the hells?” Then, after a moment, “What did he do to me?”

Looking at the runes you’d dutifully copied into the dirt, you weren’t exactly sure what to make of it, apart from what Karlach had already told you. You stayed silent.

“Two centuries carrying this, and I can finally see it.” Disbelief and confusion coated his words. 

“You really have no idea what this is?”

“None at all… Cazador was only figuratively hellish - there were never any devils hanging about the crypt.” 

You rose to stand and joined Astarion by his side. 

He sighed. “Whatever he’s left carved in my flesh, it’s a mystery to me. But if this is part of a contract, it must be powerful. Or valuable. Or both.” Something hungry played in his tone.

You nudged him gently. Come back. “No wonder he wants me back. What have I run off with?” 

He spoke more to himself than you. You left his side briefly to rummage through his things not a few feet away from you. You tossed one of his own shirts at him, knocking him out of his thoughts.

“We’ll figure it out,” you walked back to his side. “I promise.”

“Will we?” He searched your eyes. “How… sweet.” 

You half smiled, then your eyes trailed down to your lute still in his hand. “Can I have that back now?”

“Not a chance, darling.”

[deleteddewewted]

Some More Astartes Headcanons

MDNi

W: Angst, Fluff, Just more thoughts i have

Space Wolfs call their younger brother/neophytes pups.

Blood Ravens steal things to make a pile out of their stolen things to share with other battle brothers their "shiny discoveries"

The Raven Guard brothers are all a bunch of knitting lovers and sunscreen addicts. Most of them being very pale and in general, preferring the shadows, most of them will retreat to their chambers to knit. It's to the point that they need to place large orders of knitting materials every so often and the serfs are in charge of distributing the appropriate materials to the right Astartes.

The rumors of the Carcharadons being mean to their serfs or being cruel are not true. It's all propaganda that they started so that they are left alone. Their serfs are all people who are family or old friends. Their truly just a bunch of secret softies.

Onto that serfs play into this too. For all the chapters, serfs also follow the chapter culture, which brings me to the idea that Lamenter serfs are all mainly cuddle buddies to their masters and are there to make sure they don't get hurt when not in battle.

Dark Angels are all super paranoid so they all suspected that their returned Primarch wasn't actually their returned Primarch.

Abaddon misses his father badly. Yes, he's a daddy's boy. He sometimes writes letters to his deceased father knowing that they will be left unread. He sometimes cries in silence as he reminisces the days when he and his Luna Wolves would simply spend time together and play a match of regicide.

Word Bearers hold bingo matches. Yes, they're studied and religious men, but that doesn't mean that they cant have fun. (Even as traitors they still hold these bingo nights. No daemons not serfs want to join them cause they think its boring.)

Dorns sons did eventually develop some emotional development and they are now the ones that people would consider the "funny ones" if they ever had the chance to meet one of them in that way.

Alpha legion Astartes who did not undergo cosmetic procedures to look like their father make fun of the ones who did (this is semi-canon), and often flex that. (I want to pull on Solomon Akurra's hair. It is a must.)

Salamanders are known for their kindness towards people and to each other, so why wouldn't that translate to other things? They respect the tech-priests and their beliefs, the guardsmen, the servitors. The Salamanders are so kind that they will help clean up and will make their favorite baselines/allies weapons. (This is also semi canon)

The Ultramarines have an accent. Yes, they all speak high gothic but i cant get it out of my head that they have either a Latin or a Italian accent. Im only saying this because we know accents are a thing in 40k.

Speaking of accents, Horus isn't faking accent, he really just didn't lose it and likes it. He thinks it keeps him attached to his roots. Makes him happy to have people recognize where his accent it from.

[rockingrobin69]

of mice and man and man

“It’ll be a little crammed,” Draco said, hearing the apology and stopping the wince before it showed, “but I think we could—”

“It’s perfect,” Harry said, the smile in his voice thick enough for Draco to dare a look. He barely managed one, panting into his palm, tinier even than the space, smaller-smallest. But he did, and—Harry was indeed smiling, beaming, even, brighter than the fluorescent light. In a fight between Harry and the sun, Draco often thought, and stopped himself with quite a bit of force, because truly, what. What. What?

Cleared his throat. Harry was still holding onto his bag with both hands. It looked heavy; Draco developed a light sweat just from staring.

He said, “You can put that down if you’d like.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “I—oh. Yes. Here?”

“You can, ah, put it in the, bedroom? If you prefer? Of course you’ll take the bed; I changed the sheets and, ah.” Stopped at what was now clearly bafflement. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Harry frowned, an obvious lie. “I just thought—never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Which way to the bedroom?”

“Down the—”

“Actually, no, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take the sofa. I’m the guest.”

Draco refrained from smacking his own forehead. “No, no, I won’t hear of it. You just escaped possible mould poisoning; you’re taking the bed.”

“I would have,” Harry grumbled into his elbow in the world’s least-convincing cough, “if—anyway, I need some space for Rufus. The living room would do best.”

To call it a living room was either generous or offensive, Draco didn’t yet decide. It was barely a room, and not entirely designed for the living. It had been a crypt, after all, but renting a place in the city was ridiculously expensive and it did make for a neat party theme. If Draco had ever thrown a party in his life. If he had the slightest inclination to do ever do so. And the neighbours were not terrible either, once the old priest finally left. Very into cheese, which Draco could respect.

Blinking until he near-blinded himself: “You’re being silly. You and Rufus would have a great time in the bedroom. It is slightly more spacious and far less—what’s the word I’m looking for—”

“Dead?” Harry offered pleasantly.

“No, not that. Less drafty, maybe. Did you bring the jumper I knitted for Rufus?”

Again with that sun-challenging grin. “Of course. He never leaves the house without it.”

(Harry once said, entirely serious, that if Draco was a vampire, he would battle the sun if it bothered him. He said it in a straight face and a shrug). (He was mad). (And Draco didn’t allow himself to think further into the absurd, not-worth-his-breath concept). (Because, what). (Truly).

“Rufus is a good chap,” Draco said, and earned another smile for his trouble. “It was good of him to discover your flat was infested with black mould.”

“Yes,” Harry said, “it was Rufus who, er, discovered it,” even though he’d already told Draco that, three times over the phone and twice since he arrived. He was so bizarre sometimes.

“Mice have an incredible sense of smell,” Draco conceded, eyebrow raised, and Harry gulped a few times in a guilty sort of way, still clutching onto his bag. “Oh, come on, we can—share the bedroom. All three of us. It isn’t huge, but not made in miniature either, and Rufus doesn’t take that much space.”

Oh, the sun was ruined; no source of light could ever compare. “Great! Yes. Let’s do that. Yes. Did I tell you I love your place? It’s so strange and Rufus feels right at home and it’s great.”

Unable to look at him, “All right. Stop rambling. If they can’t get rid of the mould you’re more than welcome to move in, both of you.” As a joke, obviously.

Harry said, “Okay,” in a slightly-too-enthusiastic tone, and Draco, weakened already by smiles and close quarters, the smell of Harry’s appley shampoo, by how he was—there, in his space and terrific and so awful about it, Draco who had given up entirely said, “Okay,” right back.

They stood there for another moment in dead silence. Draco’s flat never felt less eerie.

Then he took man and mouse to his bedroom and hoped, against all hope, not to expire from sheer—that.

*

He didn’t expire. It was a close call, but not quite enough to push him over the edge. Harry was… so, so close and so, so himself and it was heady and wonderful and absolutely unbearable.

*

They went to bed early, both a little jittery, rustling covers and soft sheets. ‘Crammed’ was not a word that could describe the situation in any sense; Draco must have forgotten how small his bed actually was. Rufus, at least, had his own space on the dresser. Harry was right at his elbow.

When Draco found enough courage to look at him, he was… smiling. Of course.

Surrendered: “Good night, Harry.”

The bastard took his hand.

“Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Rufus.”

“Night, Ruf.”

He still held it. His hand. Harry was holding his hand and smiling about it like some—Draco hid his own terrible grin in the pillow, heart hammering in his chest, horribly, spookily, beautifully alive.

@short666bread, my dear friend, here's your treat!

[savi0rr]

Crystal Skies

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, the skies remained you of the Hextech gem. But Viktor’s eyes are locked on you.

a/n: i forgot to make the little summary part gradient and cute! also this is kinda short cuz i wanted to go play dress to impress…

⊹ ˖────⊹ ˖

⊹ ˖────⊹ ˖

"You're still awake?" you called out softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the lab as the door creaked open. You stepped inside, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. Viktor sat hunched over his cluttered desk, absorbed in his work, his pen moving in smooth, deliberate strokes across the paper. He merely nodded in response, his eyes glued to the dense text he was composing.

You frowned slightly, concern etching your features, and approached him. "C'mon, Viktor," you urged gently, your tone echoing in the quiet space that was filled only with the faint scratching of his pen and the occasional rustle of parchment.

"I can't. I'm almost done," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, still not breaking his concentration to glance at you. You sighed audibly, leaning against the edge of his desk, your eyes drifting over the sprawling documents littered with intricate diagrams and notes, before settling on the lone window. Through the glass, the night sky unveiled itself, a vast canvas of deep indigo strewn with shimmering stars. You noticed the clouds, soft and billowy, as they danced slowly with the wind.

"The sky looks just like the Hextech gem," you mused, tilting your head to capture the view better, the corners of your lips hinting at a smile. Viktor's attention momentarily shifted to the window, his brow arching slightly as he contemplated your words.

"I suppose they do," he murmured, his voice still low and contemplative, before returning to his meticulous writing, the pen gliding effortlessly across the paper.

"You have a unique imagination," he remarked without looking up, his focus firmly entrenched in his task.

"You say that quite often," you replied, keeping your gaze locked on the celestial display outside, enraptured by the beauty of the night. 

Viktor let out a tired, weighed-down sigh. Finally leaning back in his chair, he glanced at you, the shadows under his eyes revealing his fatigue. "Did you need anything else?" he asked, his stern expression faltering just slightly as he met your gaze for the first time, his sharp features softened in the dim light.

"What if I said I needed you?" you teased, allowing a playful smirk to cross your face as you shifted to fully face him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Viktor tensed visibly, his expression shifting to one of concern and confusion, brows knitting together tightly. "Don't say such things," he muttered, his eyes darting away from your gaze as if unwilling to confront the weight of your words.

You let out a soft chuckle, the sound light and carefree in contrast to Viktor’s solemn demeanor. "Just teasing," you reassured him, your attention returning to the wistful sight of the sky beyond the window.

He continued to watch you, an intense look in his eyes as he assessed your features illuminated by the soft glow of the lab’s lights. The warm light wrapped around you, creating an almost ethereal aura that made you appear otherworldly. His expression softened, though an unsettling mix of emotion battled within him. He glanced back at his desk, biting his tongue, unsure of how to process what was unfolding.

Just then, your voice broke the silence again, filled with excitement. "Did you see that?" you exclaimed, your eyes brightening as you watched the stars shimmering in waves as clouds floated by. "A shooting star!" you gasped, beaming with delight.

"Yeah…" Viktor replied, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, though he hadn’t seen any shooting stars; his vision was solely fixated on you. 

"Beautiful," he murmured almost absentmindedly, his voice thick with a mix of admiration and something deeper.

"I know, right?" you replied, enthusiasm radiating from you as you gazed adoringly at the window, missing the way Viktor's eyes traced your form, endlessly captivated by the light dancing in your eyes, his attention unwavering and utterly consumed by you.

[milswrites]

The embers that remain

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris tells you some unwanted news.

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst.

Notes: Gotta keep these break up fics flowing.

It started with the wavering touches. The way Eris’s usually firm hands now hesitantly hovered over your body, afraid to close the space between you.

Then it was the way he couldn’t quite look you in the eyes. His amber eyes always opting to stare elsewhere whenever he was in your presence.

The final straw was the stale turn your conversations had taken. The fact that no matter how hard you tried to pull answers from the male he remained as silent as the grave.

But what bothered you the most was the guilt ridden expression which failed to leave his face. His permanently furrowed brows and drooping frown marring his once handsome features.

For a while you allowed him to get away with it, accepting the new sullen persona of which he had adopted. Though once the dark bags had begun to grow under his tired eyes and his cheekbones had sunken into his pale skin, you decided that enough was enough.

That whatever burden Eris had opted to try and carry on his own needed to be shared. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for the Autumn Prince and if needing to share the weight of his problems would enable him to feel better, then you would hold up entire mountains for the male you loved so dearly.

It took numerous attempts for you to stir him from his turbulent thoughts. Your concerned voice and comforting hand coaxing him from his fortified mind. Gently squeezing his knee until the clouds which fogged his whiskey eyes had dissipated, his smoky orbs still failing to meet your own even as they cleared.

“Please my love,” you hummed softly, kneeling before where he was sat, hands clasped on both his thighs, as you looked up at the dejected male, “Share your worries with me. You needn’t battle them alone Eris, not when you have me.”

Your comforting words drew his pained amber eyes to finally meet your warming ones. His brows knitting together in distress, Eris slowly shook his head at you, the Prince tried to deny your gracious offer of help.

Trying to encourage the male to open up you pressed on, “My love there is nothing you could say or do that would ever change my opinion of you. You’re hurting Eris, let me help you.”

You didn’t miss the flash of anger which briefly crossed his harrowed face, the twitching of his nose and slight lift of his lips into a snarl. But you felt no fear, somehow knowing the fury wasn’t directed at you.

“I’m here to listen Eris,” you urged him to speak, begging eyes wide as they searched across his gaunt face, “I could never judge you.”

“But you will!” he finally seethed, teeth slightly bared as his chest rattled which each breath he took. “You will judge me” he cried, his voice breaking as the words fell from his trembling lips.

“No Eris. . . I’d never. Whatever it is it’ll be ok, we can figure it out together” you reasoned giving his thigh another reassuring squeeze from where you were sat on the floor.

“No we won’t” he denied, head still shaking lowly, that cursed expression of grief never faltering from his troubled face.

It was a tense minute of silence before either of you spoke again, but then the source of Eris’s worries tumbled from his lips, “I am to be wed to a woman from one of the outlying cities before the next harvest.”

His words were a knife to the heart. Whilst there had always been the hovering prospect that Eris would have to do his duty to his court and marry another, the two of you had been so caught up in the blazing inferno of your love to ever allow the doubts of the possible reality to cross your minds.

“How long have you known this?” You ask in shock, trying your best to recall when Eris’s sudden change in attitude had began.

The Autumn Prince blanched at your question, clearly having known the answer for longer than he has let on.

“How long Eris?” You repeated solemnly, slipping your hands from where they were resting on his legs to instead consciously knit them together on your lap.

“Two. . .three months?” He shamefully mumbled, a gasp catching in your throat at the revelation of just how long he had kept this secret, “I wanted to wait to tell you. I hoped I didn’t have to at all, that I’d find a way out of it. That it’d never come to this.”

“So you thought you’d just hide it from me for three months? When were you going to tell me you were to be wed Eris, when you were halfway down the aisle?”

“I wanted to tell you” he defended weakly, drawing in another long, shaky breath, “But telling you makes it real and that reality I just couldn’t bear facing.”

“But here we are” you stated, eyes lining with watery tears.

“Here we are” Eris sighed in confirmation, quivering hand reaching out to clasp onto your own. The burning heat from his palm a painful reminder of the comforting heat he had provided you these long years you had spent together.

“So this is it?” You croaked, voice already hoarse from the flood of emotion that had overcome your senses.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he reasoned stubbornly, “we can work something out, see each other still. I can buy a house for you where we can meet.”

You turned your face from the male in disappointment, “I won’t be your dirty secret Eris. I can’t be. Your wife-” your voice cracked at the title, “your wife deserves you in your entirety. Deserves the chance to love you as deeply as I have been able to.”

Flames raged in Eris’s eyes at your refusal to fight, at the dismissive way you had already written of your relationship as a lost cause.

“I won’t love her, never. She’s not you, she never will be. She may be my wife but she’ll never have my heart, that will be yours forever” Eris cried, the heat he was emitting in his burning rage was enough to boil the crystalline tears which fell down his cheeks.

“I’ve always thought you’d make the most wonderful husband Eris,” you weeped opting not to tell him that you had always assumed you would be his bride, “I know you’ll treat her right. That you’d be a good husband. A good father.”

“But it’s not with you!” He sobbed, cursing the gods for the cruel fate he was handed. Losing his faith in the Mother for her misguided choices.

“I’ll always be grateful for the time we were allowed to share my love” you consoled, bringing your free hand to brush back the red locks which had fallen in front of his eyes, “we’ve had such wonderful adventures and I’ll treasure them forever. But. . .we’ve always known your duties would have to come first in the end. We both just chose to become blind to it.”

“We’ve still got time” he begged, leaning his head into your soothing palm, “there’s two months till harvest yet.”

“No my love” you answered, words cutting deeply into Eris’s heart, “That’s not fair. It’s already hard enough as it is. Take the time to move on from me, to ready yourself for another.”

“I’ll never move on, not completely” he promised, warm lips coming to meet your tender palm.

“You’re so strong my love. You will find happiness again” you assured him, confident eyes meeting his own broken gaze.

Eris wasn’t sure how even in the face of adversity you were able to tell the male exactly what he needed to hear. But he was certain that no other woman would ever hold a candle to the force of nature that was you. And as the flickering flame in his eyes dulled into a pitiful ember, Eris swore that he would never allow himself to forget you. That despite your orders to move on, his heart would belong to you in its entirety until the day his fire extinguished.

[scuttlingcrab]

Memories of a Lighthouse

Summary: With Elgar'nan defeated and the Veil closed, Emmrich’s time at the Lighthouse is concluding. And what better way to say his goodbyes than by spending it dwelling on the past?

Split into 4 parts, these snippets of Emmrich include, but are not limited to: Emmrich pining over Rook as wisps of devotion encircle him, random quarrels with Johanna, competing with Davrin over who is the best ‘father,’ and Rook stunning Emmrich with an impromptu proposal as they overlook the blighted ruins of Minrathous.

Part One: Goodbyes Part Two: Devotion Part Three: Discipline Part Four: Elopement

Notes: Tagging @emmg and @thepalehorsevictoria, based on the cheeky WIP you guys reblogged yesterday. Just in case you wanted to see the finished piece, hehe. *disappears into a puff of smoke*

Little snippet below, the rest can be found on AO3!

***

Part One: Goodbyes

Emmrich Volkarin was the final companion to leave the Lighthouse before the Veil Jumpers took residence. Once Elgar'nan was vanquished and the Veil closed, it seemingly ended the group's obligations to Thedas and in turn, their tenancy in the Fade. Celebrations were had, plenty of wine and ale drunk, in hindsight perhaps too much, amounts that would have sent Emmrich to an early grave had he not stopped short when he felt the burn of yesterday’s breakfast crawling up his throat. How the others managed to drink so extensively, while keeping their wits about them as they sang and danced into the wee hours, would forever be a mystery to the Professor. 

By the time the afternoon arrived, heads throbbed with the remnants of alcohol and the consequences of battle, their groans and curses weaving; creating a different refrain from last night’s jubilations, new memories that would endlessly circulate the Lighthouse. 

Taash broke away from the group first, saying their goodbyes only a few hours after the rest had woken. They didn’t have much as far as possessions went, so their departure was swift. If truth be told, Emmrich expected nothing less from the Qunari.

They came knocking on his door, dragging their feet reluctantly into his quarters. Emmrich sat at his desk, attempting to play catch-up on a few correspondences that had piled up as of late, no thanks to the increasing weight of saving the world on his aching shoulders. Though he could scarcely find the energy to keep even one coherent train of thought as he destroyed draft after draft of possible responses. 

“Sorry.” They mumbled, “I’m interrupting.” 

“I wish I could say you were, Taash, but I’ve been staring at this missive practically all morning. I’m finding it rather difficult to summarise the last few weeks.”

“Killed some stupid gods. Solas got punched in the face. I think that’s enough.”

Emmrich placed his quill on the desk just as a touch of mischief tugged at the corners of his lips, ready to applaud Taash for their eloquent use of words. 

“Have you considered becoming a writer, Taash? Perhaps you should speak with Neve, she might be able to put you in touch with some of her editor friends. I’m sure they’d be quite keen on hearing your perspective of the events.” 

“Sounds way too boring.” Taash paused, eyebrows knitting and knuckles cracking synchronously. “I’m actually leaving.”

“You… what? Already?”

“Yup.”

“Well, then let me atleast—”

“Everything here reminds me of Lace.” Taash interjected, walking towards one of the shelves near the fireplace and poking at a skull vase. “Need some space. Don’t touch her things though. I know how much you like flowers and stuff but I’ll come back when I’m ready. Maybe I’ll keep some of it.”

“Of course, Taash. I’ll pass this information on to the others if you haven’t already.”

“Thanks.”

Emmrich stood, arm outstretched, with the full intention of shaking Taash’s hand and escorting them to the Eluvian Room himself. Seeing off a colleague, no, a dear friend, was an obligation he had to uphold.

Indeed, they had their differences. Which, in actuality, was the understatement of the year, quite possibly the decade. He had encountered hordes of critics and skeptics alike since joining the Mourn Watch; sharp fingers pointing at his artistry with malice, hasty to judge and make accusations before opening up any type of conversations. Ever the academic, Emmrich sought to enlighten all who opposed him, even the individuals short of any decent propriety. Yet did they listen to him? Unnervingly, no. They would’ve rather trusted a Tevinter Magister. 

Taash surprisingly outdid them all, coming up with equally unique and horrific slurs, some that insinuated necrophilism, of all things. To make matters worse, he was forced to face Taash on the daily, unable to avoid their biting questions on nearly every excursion.  

It might've been the nature of the companion’s temporary home in the Fade, or the high stakes situation that had been thrust upon all of them, that incited each quarrel with Taash. More bickering than he’d care to admit. They eventually fell into a comfortable rhythm and understanding, finding common ground with their respective tastes after the final altercation in his quarters.  

Rook had walked in mid-insult, and he had never been more relieved to see her. She was his champion, there to release him from the binds of Taash’s scrutiny. When they were satisfied, the copious concerns unburdened and future topics of dialogue laid out, Taash left. And no sooner did Emmrich flop into his chair, heart racing, convinced they would’ve incinerated him where he stood if it hadn’t been for Rook’s intervention. An impromptu cremation, his body becoming nothing but ash, the very thing he despised. Rook giggled, running her long fingers through his hair, leaving it disheveled when she was through. An act that should’ve irked him, but because it was Rook, his Rook, he let it pass.

Presently Emmrich was experiencing a similar bout of terror as Taash rushed towards him. He inherently flinched out of fear from an assault, quashing a yelp that nearly left his lips. It was only natural to react in such a manner when one was faced with the sight of a Qunari charging in their direction. Nearly twice Emmrich’s weight, and with a resting face devoid of any other expressions save for anger or irritation, which looked just about the same to him. No offence, Taash. Yet there were no punches or other signs of aggression that followed. No fire breath scorching his person. It was a hug. Tender and warm. They lifted him off his feet and he dangled there, arms pinned under their embrace. 

“You’re too boney.” They whispered, squeezing him tighter. 

“T-Taash,” Emmrich croaked. 

He felt their breath on his neck, his skin prickling as if he had opened an oven. 

“Oh. Oops.” 

The comforts of the stone floor returned to Emmrich’s feet as Taash let go. They stepped back, shuffling awkwardly as they pulled on their hair braid.

He cleared his throat, and then returned the hug properly, though not quite matching their ferocity. 

“Do keep in touch, Taash.”

“Sure and you take care of Rook.” It wasn’t a statement from Taash, but an order. 

Emmrich froze, processing Taash’s words. It was weighted with justification, an acute awareness of his relationship with Rook, the future they had spent so many hours whispering about under the covers, over breakfast, on their aimless strolls through the Memorial Gardens. It was waiting for them outside, in the waking world. 

“I–I…” His chin trembled against Taash’s shoulders as he struggled to simply confirm their demand. 

Emmrich’s vision blurred, tears threatening to flood his cheeks at any second. Somehow they had simultaneously touched his soul and left him astonished by their blatant display of goodwill. Taash. The same Qunari who sliced through their enemies with clean precision, spitting both fire and insults. He was going to miss them.

Emmrich was skilled at many things in his seniority, but unfortunately, farewells were never one of them. They were agonising, exacting on his psyche. He knew as well as the next Watcher that life itself was evanescent in comparison to the vast breadth of mortal history. “Until we meet again.” He’d often say, filled with half truths, delivered as a means of easing his own growing woes. Whether he bid adieu to a spirit, a person, or place, the odds of seeing them again grew slimmer with each passing nameday. If Emmrich had embraced Lichdom, he would’ve faced the same hardships, as even the grandest estates succumbed to the pressures of time, ultimately disintegrating along with the recollections of those who inhabited it. 

His parents, for instance, were an echo of the past. So far gone they were merely shapes projected on the surface, imitations of what used to be. He managed to cling to a few fragments of them, filling in the deep rifts of their passing to remedy his long standing grief. The sugary scents of his mother, the tender kisses as his parents said goodnight, those earnest looks across the kitchen. Ultimately, the companions would occupy the same space, their faces fading, voices growing more distant as their lives diverged.

What had started as an eclectic group of strangers, each with their own afflictions, forced to trust one another because there was simply no other option – soon formed a familiar bond, albeit a dysfunctional one at best. 

As an orphan Emmrich had spent the majority of his life in solitude, swimming haplessly against the currents from one destination to another, searching for similar relationships, perhaps even a spouse and kin of his own. Naturally, after a slew of heartbreaks and disappointments, he abandoned the dream all together, putting his focus elsewhere, where he knew the outcomes of success were more in his favour. Now to his complete and utter surprise, he had the pleasure of calling these brave, sometimes foolish, often ill-disciplined, cast of characters more than just colleagues, but his extended family. How ironic, to have finally found the perfect clan and they were already disbanding.

“I-I shall.” Emmrich finally babbled, disengaging from the hold. “Though I’m sure you’re aware Rook is… quite self reliant.”  

Rest on AO3! *dabs into hiding*

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part VI

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including physical child abuse, violence, and non-con elements. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Notes: IT IS HERE! YES! i purposefully make it long and full of drama to make up for the amount of times I pushed the release back. I also put a lot of my own thoughts in the end author’s notes so please enjoy! I most definitely could not have written this content a year ago let me tell you—

The memory of you struck him like lightning, electrocuting him to his core with panic and disgust. He revoked his touch from you as you began to sit up on the riverbank in acute panic. 

He just stared at you. Tobirama had no idea how he remembered you, yet he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Yes, you were older, but as he considered the shape of your face, he could see the unmistakable look from the forest back then. You had the same nose, such a familiar laugh, and your eyes… even without your sharingan.

He had thought of you as a foul creature. 

That morning when he first saw you in the woods. 

Tobirama had come home much earlier that day in defeat. He hadn’t wanted to stay and train after his encounter with you. He tried to continue, to find another spot to collect himself, but he ultimately couldn’t help but feel that you were still there, watching him. Knowing an Uchiha lurked around in the woods, it was probably best that he didn’t go off alone for his safety.

He remembered how his father stormed toward him when he returned to the compound. Butsuma’s jaw was clenched as tightly as ever, battle-toned arms swinging with each step of his furious gait. He swooped in on his son, grabbing Tobirama harshly by the arm. Tobirama was tugged along awkwardly, his legs too short for the angle at which Butsuma dragged him.

“Where have you been?” his father scolded lowly between gritted teeth. He paid no mind to the Senju meandering down the same dirt road, and they paid no mind to him in turn.

The question nearly made Tobirama’s heart drop in his chest, the memory of you spreading terror like wildfire across his skin. He looked into Butsuma’s gaze with wide eyes, wondering how his father could have possibly known he had made contact with an Uchiha. His fingers unconsciously rose to the space under his right eye, almost trembling. He was sure that his father could feel the tremor through his hold.

“Training, Father,” Tobirama answered earnestly. He almost crashed into Butsuma as his father stopped suddenly, the child only tripping for a moment before he was pulled into a nearby stable. 

“Tobirama, where have you been?” Butsuma barked, repeating his question more harshly. He jerked Tobirama away by the grip on his arm, allowing him to stumble back into the hay. All Tobirama could do was stare, ashamed that he had disgraced the Senju name and that his father could see it painted on him. Promises piled up on his lips: if he saw you again, he would surely kill you that time! He would immediately set out and— “You better answer me now, boy, or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“I was training with Grandfather’s kunai, Father! On the east end by the mountains like you taught me!” He nodded profusely, scrambling into a deep bow. Tobirama’s eyes knitted closed. 

The silence above him felt like it lasted for an eternity. Tobirama didn’t dare to look, and for a long moment, he couldn’t even meet his father’s eye. Somewhere between the seconds, he found himself mindlessly observing the small population of livestock grazing at the stable's far end. Tobirama glanced at them and their troughs. 

“You were not with Hashirama?” Butsuma spoke slowly, and Tobirama’s head carefully rose with a shake. 

“No, I was not.” Tobirama flinched as Butsuma’s hand came firmly down on his hair, placing just enough weight on his skull to ensure that all of Tobirama’s attention was on him. “I assure you. I was practicing my skill with the kunai.”

“Your elder brother has been acting suspiciously as of late. I want you to find him and report to me what he has been up to.” Butsuma landed a harsh pat on Tobirama’s back, ushering him away. He scrambled away as quickly as he could back into the forest, still gripping the pack of weaponry on his back.

***

It made more sense after that evening. 

Hashirama knelt on a cushion beside him, the two sons before their father. 

“About this boy you have been meeting up with. I looked into that young man and learned that he belongs to the Uchiha clan. Hashirama, you understand what that means, do you not?” The brothers stiffened, forcing on stoic faces so as not to let their discomfort show. Butsuma’s gaze narrowed. “If you do not want to be suspected as a spy, then you must shadow him after the next time the two of you meet. And if he should notice you… kill him.” 

Tobirama eyed his brother nervously. Undoubtedly, the conflict between the Senju and the Uchiha would mean this was the only way to rectify things. Tobirama stared down at his lap, guilt weighing down on his shoulders. 

There was no way for anyone to know about his encounter with you, and even if his father found out, Tobirama was different. At least he tried to kill you. That was enough, wasn’t it? Unlike Hashirama, he at least tried to do the right thing and kill the Uchiha on sight, no matter his level of success.

After a moment of preponderance, Hashirama spoke again,

“Are you completely sure he is an Uchiha?” 

Tobirama gulped, bracing himself for the heavy hit that awaited Hashirama. But it didn’t come. Butsuma studied him with crossed arms, bubbling rage mounting in his chest. He gritted his teeth.

“You trust a member of the clan who killed your brother?” Butsuma simmered. Tobirama stewed, praying for the moment that he was allowed to leave. Hashirama sat confused and still deep in thought on his cushion, not appearing nearly as worried as he should, in Tobirama’s opinion. “If he has been tricking you, you are putting every single Senju in danger.”

Despite Tobirama attempting to convince him otherwise, Hashirama was reluctant to comply. But after a lengthy beating from Butsuma, Hashirama finally agreed to be followed. As they eventually left the room, Tobirama couldn’t help but avert his gaze from the deep bruises and the forlorn expression on Hashirama’s face. 

***

“I am an apothecary,” you had told him. 

He didn’t ask you where. With the tumultuous clan wars, Tobirama assumed you were part of a smaller, nomadic group. As the more prominent clans and clan alliances fought, non-combatants traveled to safer ground, ironically forming their own larger herds for protection.

That was Tobirama’s first mistake: assuming.

“An apothecary,” Tobirama repeated. You wore his fur, curled up against a bed of river glass and hidden between a mess of boulders. He sat on a nearby rock, the headband you had confiscated and returned to him clutched in a ball in his hand. Tobirama cocked his head. “Is that a healer?”

“A woman healer?” you asked, hardly restraining the tiny smile that graced your lips. Your eyes glowed with wonder as you leaned forward, having never heard of such a thing. “No, I am afraid I only collect herbs for medicine. Although our current apothecary is very old, he taught me how to create medicines when we used to live by the coast. A rare honor.” Tobirama’s eyebrows rose on his forehead with an impressed blink.

“That is admirable. Your work takes a keen eye and a sharp mind.” You shifted against the grass to sit with your legs crossed as you leaned forward. A patch of small river flowers grew in a cluster where the gravel of the riverbank began. The white petals grew sporadically down the length of the land. You weaved your fingers through the tiny stems, the pure light color glowing against your skin. 

“You know about medicine?” you mused.

“Yes, my clan is well renowned for our knowledge of various medicines. The children are taught about these things at a young age, although, I possessed neither a keen enough eye nor a sharp enough mind for healing, to the disappointment of my mother.” You drew a bent knee toward your chest, rearranging your long robes as you gently collected the tiny flowers.

“Was she a woman healer?” You scooted forward to sit in front of him.

“No,” he said, letting you smooth back his hair. “She was a warrior like my father. Wove baskets—beautiful baskets— when she was with us. My grandmother was a master healer, though.”

“A woman master healer,” you breathed in awe to yourself, weaving the flowers into Tobirama’s hair. You couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips. “That is fascinating.” 

“My grandfather used to take me fishing in the northern streams before he passed. He always brought her herbs. Perhaps I could find some of her formulas. You may find them interesting.” 

“Really?” You leaned back on your ankles, admiring the little white flowers that adorned Tobirama’s crown. “I could not ask you to do such a thing.”

“If you are not allowed to learn of medicine and herbs, how else will you pursue being a great apothecary?” You blinked at him in disbelief, taken aback. “That is your dream, is it not? You speak of it often.”

“Do I?” You let out a light laugh, sheepishly averting your gaze. “I apologize. My good friend from home often tells me I speak too much.” Tobirama scoffed.

“Some friend,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he adjusted the fur over your shoulders. “You do not speak too much. Especially when it concerns things you are passionate about. Therefore—” Tobirama plucked one of the flowers out of his hair and tucked it behind your ear. “Tell me about this flower.” 

You instinctively opened your mouth but quickly closed it when you noticed Tobirama’s expression chance. He held a glint in his eye and the beginning of a smile on his thin lips. He leaned forward, brushing your hand along another patch of little petals.

“I know you know this one,” he said softly before leaning back against the boulder behind him. His bright red eyes met your own. They held softness in them. “Please, I would like to listen.”

You almost laughed, your nervousness almost causing you to forget all your knowledge as his touch left you.

“They call this purity flower. It is incredibly delicate, and they only grow this big.” You stared down to where Tobirama had placed your hand. “You can do quite a few things with them. They are wonderful for sore throats, sanitizing wounds, upset stomachs…”

You brushed through them, and a few flowers crumpled under your fingers.

He would never forget that. The way your face fell as the flowers at the center of the cluster began to shrivel.

***

He was smarter than Hashirama. 

Tobirama wasn’t a traitor to the clan. Tobirama wouldn’t be caught fraternizing with an Uchiha like his foolish brother. He was stern, calculating. He was so careful. 

He had carried his prized Uchiha-killing kunai with him the entire time. 

It was strapped to his leg when he first chased after you. 

It was with him as you adorned him with blossoms. 

He held the same knife he had once held up to your neck as he screamed in your face that he would carve out your eyes the entire time. 

And he had another chance.

It was right in front of him, as you blathered on about the daylight. Your lips moved, but nothing came from your mouth. 

He had another opportunity to redeem himself. 

The moment of his childhood that haunted him for many nights could have been corrected. Tobirama was a true warrior now. He could have killed you. He could have carved out your sharingan, sinking his kunai into your skull as you screamed and kicked under him, just as he promised long ago. No one would hear you out here. 

He could do anything he wanted to you.

But he hesitated again, and now his only weapon was lost.

The time you had been sneaking around had hardly been long; the days in sum dwarfed compared to a year. 

And now he watched you in the morning sun, his heart and head doing a double take as his eyes hurriedly searched for the kunai he had pushed into the river. But it was long gone. 

“It is morning?!” You exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. Startled, Tobirama scurried up with you, stumbling back until one of his feet sank into the rushing water. You lurched forward instinctively to steady him.

“Do not touch me!” he barked, and the gruffness of his voice made you recoil. He faltered, sputtering with a vigorous shake of his head. Tobirama balanced himself as the cold, rushing current pushed at his knee. He looked up at you, staring into your wide, confused eyes. 

Looking upon you in the daylight made him view you in a way he never had before.

Yes, he could see it now. 

He could see the Uchiha in you… and it was ugly.

Every part of him burned. It was as if he had been coated in mud, leaving his skin irritated, itchy and inflamed. He wished he could scrub every inch of himself of you. Slice, scratch, and claw into himself to erase the ghost of your lingering touch. 

Tobirama burned with shame. 

You shifted, moving to speak, when something covered your eyes. You snatched it slowly in confusion, but as the silk ribbon slid from your hair to drape over your fingers, your eyes quickly widened even farther than they already were. Tobirama stood in the water, watching you with a pounding chest as you, too, stumbled back. Your gaze darted from the Uchiha crest to Tobirama, who, for once, did not hold any softness in his expression. 

“Oh.” You held your shaking hand up to your lips. You took another step back. Tobirama didn’t move.

He looked angry, the tension of his clenched jaw just about making the entirety of his body shake. His brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and rage. And all he could do was stare at you with fists balled up in mounting fury. Tobirama’s eyes turned glossy as he held back the burning tears that threatened to spill over his waterline. 

You weren’t thinking, not as you stepped forward and spoke his name.

You wanted to go to him, tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Something. You tried to tell him something, anything.

You stepped forward, and Tobirama planted his second foot in the water.

“Do not come closer, Uchiha!” he spat. His words halted you in your stride. Tobirama stumbled back, splashing in the shallows. His clothes were drenched with dark patches which adorned his legs and sides. He held his hand up, almost as a buffer between him and you. He shook, and droplets fell back into the rushing current of the water. 

His father’s words to his brother repeatedly played in his head. 

Tobirama had been endangering his clan all this time. He had been reckless and naive, just like his brother. He sat as the current rushed by, stuck and frozen like a cornered animal, trying to calculate how many of his kinsmen could have been saved if he had been more sparing with his tongue. 

You spoke in a meek voice,

“Tobirama—”

“Get out of here! Do not dare show your face back here, foul creature; I will kill you!” he screamed with all the weight of his guilt. Tobirama rose to his full height, hulking shoulders squared. You didn’t wait a second longer before you ran. You ran straight into the brush, and in an instant, you were deep into the forest. You could still hear Tobirama shouting behind you. “I will kill you, Uchiha! I will carve out your sharingan! I—”

He choked the moment he lost sight of you.

Tobirama dropped to his knees, splashing again down into the water. He heaved, his throat burning as he threw up into the river's current. Tobirama uttered a strangled cry, mucus dropping from his mouth and nose. Hot tears poured down his face as he gasped into the surface, nearly drowning himself in the water and his own mess. 

You continued to run. You ran through the woods, paying little mind to the scrapes you collected as you rushed back toward the Uchiha colony. Your foot snagged against a fallen branch, causing you to smack face-first into a nearby log. You scrambled to your feet, heart pumping as you continued back home, your breath rasping rhythmically in your ears. Wetness streamed down your face, combining tears, snot, and blood to cake your skin. 

But as you grew closer to your colony, the scent of smoke grew stronger. And as you looked up between the branches, you could see a dark cloud rising into the air. 

The weeping became clearer. Agonized weeping. 

You burst forth from the trees to your family’s garden. 

To where the garden should have been, but the garden was gone.

Your home was gone, and a smoking pile of charcoal was left in its place. 

A few structural beams shot out from the pile of char, like pleading limbs reaching up toward the heavens for a salvation that would never come. The paper walls were gone. The engawa had been reduced to rubble. The engawa that you and Madara stood on just hours before while your parents discussed your union.

…

Your parents.

You shouted for them, rushing straight for the ruins of your home. Large masses of char littered the streets, marking the resting places of other houses just like yours. Your eyes darted about in a frenzy, making eye contact with the mourning Uchiha, who littered the dirt streets for any confirmation that your parents had made it. 

“Where are my parents?” You cried to people who averted their gazes. One woman covered her child’s ears, holding him close to her chest. “Have you seen my parents? Please! Someone! Did they make it? Will you not answer me?” 

But no one answered you. 

There was just weeping.

You didn’t see their faces or those of your family. 

You raced toward the rubble, rifling through the mess with tears blurring your vision. You were howling something, letting words spill and tumble from your lips with the same liquidity as the water pouring from your face. Your fingers began to sting. Debris cut your skin, forming abrasions that filled with soot and dirt as you clawed at what used to be your home. 

A muscular arm looped under your torso. You kicked your legs as you continued to wail, pounding your fists at the back of red armor. You could only watch as you were slowly carried away from the wreckage of your home, the reminisce of other ruined buildings gathering into your blurry view with every step. 

You went limp about halfway down the road, hanging upside down with your cheek smushed against a bloody backplate. You cried, the compilation of mucus stuck in your nose, causing your sinuses to burn. You coughed, fist pounding a last time against armor before you were dropped back to the ground. 

Your knees gave out under you, and before you stood Madara. 

Tall, hulking, and imposing Madara with a somber expression on his face and a gaping wound on his side. He still held you by the hand, your fingers just barely hooked on his. His feet were stained with blood and caked with dirt, and sitting in the disturbed dirt road sat vials of herbs and a collection of your supplies from the apothecary. 

Only then did you notice what he was surveying behind you, letting your hand drop from his.

Bodies of the injured were splayed out on salvaged blankets in the middle of the street. The able-bodied scurried around with what little medical supplies could be salvaged from the remains of your village, tending to warriors, women, children, and elders alike. Your head snapped back toward Madara.

“You must make medicine,” Madara said in a voice barely above a whisper, although it was by no means gentle. He held a gruffness in his voice. Frustration laced his tone. You heaved yourself up, something about being on the ground making you feel more vulnerable than you already felt in your confusion.

“Madara, I—”

“What?” Madara snapped, jerking forward at you. You recoiled, lips closing instantly. “What now, woman? Can you not see the crisis laid out in front of you? You have received exactly what you wanted and yet remain stubborn even when a man is giving you direct instructions.” You were still dazed.

“Where is Makihara?”

It wasn’t hard for Madara to wrestle you back to the ground. Your head slammed against the dirt, the vials of herbs and medicine sideways in your vision. Madara’s lips touched your ear as he spoke venom directly into your skull. His words sent a submissive chill directly into your heart.

“For the sake of the gods, make the goddam medicine and cease your difficulty. Your clan head bids it.” He released your head, which was engulfed in his wide-handed grip. You stared dizzily at his back as he walked away, his form wavering in your vision.

“Clan… head?”

***

Madara was officially deemed the head of the Uchiha clan later that night, bare except for his loin cloth as his body was painted with sacred symbols. He sat like a king on the ruins of the Uchiha village, looking pensive and severe.

The ceremony was intimate, traditional, and without frills.

Somber.

What was left of the village wasn’t made to attend, but most showed their faces in the torchlight, gazing upon their new leader as Madara was adorned with red and white paint. The population of Uchiha gathered around him, squishing together to watch the decoration of their new leader. 

Madara sat amongst the ruins of what used to be your colony, looking solemn in the warm glow of the flames around him. He stared ahead. A surviving elder smeared two lines of red paint under Madara’s eyes with shaky fingers. Bandages covered the elder’s eye, wrapping all the way around his head. Another elder brushed his frail hands over Madara’s cheeks with white before anointing his forehead with his thumb. 

You had made that paint. You admired it from the back of the crowd. 

A few children had been sent to gather pigmented clay while you exhausted the rest of your herbal supply on medicinal remedies. Even with what you made stretch, you barely had enough to treat all the wounded. Burying the dead had taken all day. 

Madara stood in front of all the Uchiha, bare-chested and painted in holy symbols as the clan revered him. He barked, the deep, powerful sound resounding from his chest. His colored abs flexed with the call, and the Uchiha chanted back, filling the surrounding forest with spirited howling. 

He stood as the new leader of the Uchiha clan, yet the colors that adorned him were yours, as were the herbs that decorated his wound.

***

Your parents were dead.

It was a fact that you recalled often during the mindless time you spent crushing herbs, beseeching the weight of it to sink in. But instead, you were met with numbness, even as the mourners around you grieved their lost loved ones. 

You sat under your makeshift canopy on a rug of simple woven threads. The three sides of your new apothecary were draped with fabric, acting as a buffer to the light night breeze. And there you thought, pulverizing medicine with your pestle to replenish your depleted medicinal supply. As the clan’s only apothecary, you could no longer collect herbs. In a strike of irony, this in turn meant that you were too important and no longer allowed to leave the Uchiha’s new territory.

You hadn’t noticed Madara’s presence. Only when the torchlight from outside no longer filtered into your tent did you think to even blink. He stood over you, harsh shadows cast across his face from the lone lamp that lit up your workspace. Madara’s colors had faded from his skin, but the stain from the dye remained as the faintest of hues.

You could just barely see the holy symbols.

“Does the new location please you?” 

You stopped, the moment of distraction allowing the ache in your hands to set in. You nearly dropped your pestle, recoiling slightly as the tension froze your fingers. You had been working since daybreak.

“I cannot say I have been able to see much of it, Madara.”

“Come, then.” 

To your surprise, Madara extended his hand to you. You looked upon him with exhaustion, almost to ask if he genuinely meant what he spoke. He waited patiently for you to place your hand in his before whisking you into the surrounding woods. 

***

The Uchiha had retreated farther inland, upstream to the higher ground by the mountains. The trees were large in these parts, far larger than you were used to. They extended twice the height compared to the ones in your previous territory, towering large fans of leaves up toward the starry night sky. Even the vast constellations appeared brighter in these new parts. 

Madara walked a step or two in front as you strolled across the rocky terrain. You panted as you struggled up a steep incline. Madara hadn’t bothered to help you, instead moving along onto the level above. Small stones that littered the surface of the earth slid under your sandals.

“I am—” you huffed —“I am not as agile as I used to be.” 

Madara laughed somewhere above.

“You are in your prime. What is this talk of agility?” 

You pulled yourself up onto the dirt with the help of an exposed root. You fanned yourself, wiping the sweat off your brow as Madara chuckled somewhere in front of you.

“I meant that I no longer climb trees every day, Madara. Perhaps that is something you do, oh great clan head, but not I.” 

You turned to stand, suddenly struck by the view before you. Madara stood just ahead, holding up a branch with his forearm to expose the landscape. You hurried over, framing yourself in the window of leaves that Madara created. From up so high, you could see how the trees covered the land for miles, bisected by one of the Land of Fire’s many rivers in the distance. 

“Are you able to say if the new land pleases you?” You caught Madara’s eye for a split second, quickly averting your gaze at the sight of his sentimental expression, your aloneness suddenly growing palpable. You nodded.

“Moving the clan here was clever. Having the high ground and access to fresh water will only serve to be prosperous.” You offered him a gentle smile and a nod, glancing back at the scenery. “I know you will make a great clan head, Madara.”

“We will see about that,” Madara admitted in a rare moment of self-doubt. The confession made your forehead crinkle instantly. You cocked your head, taken aback. Madara sighed, almost as if reading your thoughts before you spoke them. “The elders— the remaining elders— believe that I am still quite young to be taking up the mantle. They still hold power when it comes to making decisions on behalf of the clan. At least, until they deem I have grown into my title as clan head.”

“Why make you leader at all if they are going to make such fuss?” you scoffed, knowing very well the answer. 

You sat down at the cliff's edge, watching the moon in the distance, and Madara came to sit next to you. He shifted, having more difficulty getting situated than you. The branch he had been holding up came down to smack him on the back of the head. 

“I have had similar thoughts.” Madara looked off with a troubled frown. “I worry for the future of the Uchiha. Our numbers dwindle with every battle. And with this last raid, the women will be forced to join the militia.” 

“Is this true?” you nearly exclaimed. You withdrew into yourself, brushing a finger across your bottom lip. The news rattled around in your ribcage. “How unorthodox!” 

Madara sneered, and it hardly took his admission of “I am against such things” for you 

to understand his stance on the matter. You let him grumble to himself, once again lost in a daze, as you took some of the dry dirt below between your fingers. 

“Madara,” you called softly, and he perked up with a hum. Between the chaos of the last few days, you were hardly allowed to give anything proper thought. Of all the terrible things to sink in, you only had one worry on your mind. “Do you believe I might be sent to fight the Senju?”

You stared into Madara’s eyes. Tobirama’s fearsome expression flashed across your mind as you recalled his promises to take your life. They made you shiver. 

“I would think not, given that you are acting as the lone apothecary of the Uchiha,” Madara answered, his voice deep and soft. “Besides, I forbid it.”

You didn’t know what to say as you let the bit of relief Madara’s words brought you to wash over your thoughts. Whether you intended it or not, you had made yourself invaluable to your clan. They weren’t about to put you on the front lines anytime soon. 

Madara spoke your name.

“Do you like it?” he asked. You weren’t paying attention again. You blinked to yourself, his deep voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Do I like what?”

“The new land, does it please you?”

“It is… not home,” you admitted. “But the landscape does please me, yes. I am certain it will be home soon enough.” Madara closed the space between you before gingerly placing two fingers under your chin. He turned your face toward him.

“I am clan head now.”

“Yes, Madara, I am aware.” You tried to subtly turn your chin away, but he held firm, boring into you with vigilant eyes. Nocturnal insects chattered in the forest behind you.

“No other bachelor in the Uchiha can provide better than I.” You had no other choice than to meet his dark gaze. He spoke to you earnestly. “Will you not reconsider marrying me?” A frown tugged at his lips. Worry swirled on his face.

“We are far too young, Madara.” You took his hand, gently removing it from your skin. You folded in on yourself, backing away from the edge as you bashfully gripped the fronts of your robes to dry your sweaty hands. Madara pivoted, leaning back to keep you in his sights, the moon’s slow, enshrining him in a silver silhouette. You curled into the earth. “Besides… too much has happened for us to think about such things.”

You could feel it: the urge to fight you on the tip of Madara’s tongue. Indeed, other Uchiha have married at your age and younger. Sometimes, young girls would be considered ready for marriage after their first menstrual cycle. But to your surprise, he didn’t fight you at all. Instead, he came to sit next to you. 

Madara could’ve fought you on several things. He hadn’t yet forgotten the mystery beau he was convinced was keeping your affections from him, nor was he thrilled that you had been named as the clan’s sole apothecary through a simple process of elimination.

You hadn’t forgotten his attempts to strongarm you into marriage or the terrifying outburst that caused you to run away. Although, with your parents gone, you were placed supremely in charge of your fate. Try as he must, not even Madara could force you into marriage. 

But when it came down to it, with your family dead and your lover disgusted by your bloodline, you were left again with Madara. That had been how it always was. Having lost so much during the clan conflict, you were always left with each other, weren’t you?

As you began to weep, Madara scooted backward to be with you. You leaned against him, placing your head on his shoulder as you continued to cry, holding his arm to bury your face into the sleeve of his robes—dark, round spots soaked into the fabric.

Madara held you in the dimness as the surrounding clearing filled with your sobs. It had been the first time you were allowed to cry. The first time you truly had to confront the regret that haunted you from the few days prior. For his capriciousness and overall little patience for sentiment, Madara nurtured your vulnerability. 

His fingers trailed lightly over your hair, rounding up stray strands behind your ear. He pressed his temple against the top of your head, caressing down your jaw to clear away the tears that slid down your cheeks with his thumb. Madara lifted your face, his second hand cupping the other side of your face as he continued to swipe away the wetness from your face. 

You held his wrists in your ginger grip, as he laid a tender kiss on your forehead. He gazed into your teary eyes in the moonlight, casting away another stream of tears as he offered a gentle kiss to your right cheek, and then your left. 

His nose nudged against yours, staring into your glassy eyes. You let them flutter shut, causing more droplets to splash against your face. Madara placed his lips on yours, holding the sides of your face as he kissed you with earnest. 

You kissed him back for a moment, only for a moment. The shape of his face was different than Tobirama in a way you couldn’t quite place your finger on. He had rounder cheeks. A longer bridge to his nose. Madara’s hair draped over his shoulders to tickle your skin.

You pulled away, just the slightest distance between your face and Madara’s before he leaned in again. You pushed against his chest, but his movements this time were more forceful. He held you firmly in his grip, his fingers pinching against your cheeks as he lowered himself on top of you, pinning you against the earth and his larger body. 

Your eyes went wide, the entirety of your body going frozen as Madara moved against yours, his once gentle motions now a gnashing of lips and teeth that made you press your head into the dirt. You tried to gasp his name in protest, but your words were muffled. His forearm rested to the right of your head, his breath hot against your skin as he smored your airways. His fingers tugged awkwardly at your hair, causing you to wince as he pulled the strands. You pushed on his chest again, kicking your legs under him, but Madara lowered more of his weight on top of you. 

A line of saliva connected the two of you when he finally ceased his assault on your lips. He gazed upon you with lidded eyes before he continued, tucking his head in the crook of your neck. You screamed as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, tears pouring from your wide eyes as you stared up at the pitch black night sky. Madara’s hand swiftly came over your mouth, to muffle the shrieks that tore from your throat.

You flailed violently, limbs lashing in adrenaline-fueled terror to no avail as Madara kept you pinned to the earth with his larger, heavier frame. And then you felt a hand dip into your robes, tugged the top material from your shoulders to grope at your chest. You cried harder, squealing like a pig at the slaughter as you finally managed to squirm an arm free.

You thrashed it around in a flurry of scratches and strikes. Your hand snagged on Madara’s face as you tried to scoot out from underneath him, causing him to shoot backward. Blood dripped from his nose, forming a nasty pool of red in tandem with the jagged gash that sliced diagonally across his upper lip. 

He looked at you in confusion and anger; blood streaked across his fingers. You scrambled to your feet, darting down the mountain and back to the new colony. 

You would never speak of that night again.

Madara dropped all speak of marriage.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Lots of fun author’s notes: I hated the pacing of this fic. It used to have really low notes in the early days so I think I got a little sloppy with it, and now it’s exploded out of nowhere! I hope this “retcon” fixes some of the plotholes!

I would like to think the teen years were made purposefully vague and dreamy so that the transition to the dark content is more impactful. Yes, yes we’ll say that!

I don’t always imagine what Reader looks like in my stories (I usually don’t) but this one I do! I usually picture Lupita Nyong'o. Not sure if that adds or takes away for any of you. Who I picture ultimately doesn’t matter

I’d also like to think the whole scene where Tobirama scares Reader off is like any movie where a protagonist has to scare off a loyal dog. Like, “Go on, boy! Git! You’re not welcome here! Git!” while like throwing rocks or something.

Also a reminder that I am not a smut author, so please withhold any thirst comments or requests. Thank you. 

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

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