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maevesheart · 9 months

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only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

#imagine #angst #maeve writes 🎀#finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #catching fire

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

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All of your Time | Yandere Hybrid SatoSugu

The thing about introverts is that they need to recharge

They need time by themselves to be able to handle more interaction

They greatly value their lonesome

Whether to enjoy their imagination without distraction or to put themselves nose-deep in their field of interest

They have a safe space – a time or place meant to belong to them and only them

It’s why you didn’t go out on the unplanned drinking escapade when your boss and his partner offered

“No, thank you I have something to do tonight.”

Unbeknownst to you, you smashed their hearts into a tiny million pieces with that polite sentence

Though it wouldn’t be the first time

The only time they could get you to agree was when they made plans with many of your friends at a significantly later date

They decided to be nice about getting your affection so why was this so hard

Why was it taking so long to get any of your free time

“Sugu! I’m tired of waiting! Why can’t we just take them now!?”

“We both decided to be patient with them…you’ve already said you didn’t want them to hate you. Right?”

“...Yeah…”

“So we’ll be taking the long way…for now.”

He says that but their patience is running thin

And like a starving pack of wolves, they need something

“Oh yeah (Y/n) kind of really needs their alone time.”

They decide to do some digging as to why this keeps happening

by they I mean Suguru eventually gets an answer from your friend

“They make plans with themselves all the time. Honestly, we’re just lucky the days we do hang out don’t fall on the dates they’ve already picked out.”

Why must their darling be oh so fickle?

They decide to go to their other plan

One they’ve crafted after many trips with you home where they stayed 3 meters behind and you didn’t know they were there

Passing by an ally you always do stopping at a familiar sound

“Oh my! Two cute friendly kitties in one day? I must be dreaming!”

You aren’t and when you return home you’ve got two fluffy cats that refuse to leave your side

Finally the perfect turnaround of seeing you composed and restrained at work

Then seeing you fawn and coddle them when they transform into cats in your home

Suguru and Satoru had gained their wealth through several means

Privilege, hard work, physical prowess, and agility that made them a force to be reckoned with in the underworld

Suddenly their ability to transform into their ‘lesser forms’ comes in handy when they feel the need to have more of your time

This time when you cancel going out with them they’re not too hurt

Knowing you're already running back home to be with them

It’s the perfect little plan that lets them have see so much more of you:

“Awww my little Nightsky~your like my little guardian! Even when I’m in the bath you watch after me, thank you!”

The black, purple-eyed cat purred in contentment as you let your fingers massage the cat’s head. Readjusting your robe you slipped into your slippers and made your way to your bed. On your way, you lightly rubbed the cheek of your white cat who was sat on his cat tree aggressively flicking his tail.

You cooed,” Don’t be jealous Cream, it’s just that you get a little crazy whenever I let you in while I’m taking a bath.”

The cat meowed indignantly. Chuckling to yourself you grabbed your phone from your nightstand. Plopping on your bed you started scrolling through unanswered messages sent to you. In your peripheral you watched the cats mew at one another before beginning to playfully wrestle.

“Be careful on the cat tree, you two.”

They seemed to ignore you subsequently rolling off the perch and onto the floor. Having seen them do this exact action before you didn’t bother looking away as you read the messages from your friend in your department. Your lips pursed as the string of messages ended with a voice note.

“Hey, those two are still asking about you. Why don’t you give them a chance? Maybe they just want to be your friends?”

Sighing you prepped yourself to make your own voice note, unaware of both your cats’ attention solely directed towards you.

“If they do want that–and I highly doubt that–don’t they feel off? Like did you see how that grumpy old man gets so mousy when they’re around? I just don’t think I’d want to associate with that.”

After ending and sending your voice note, you hold your phone as it pings with messages from your friend. Holding in a giggle you tap back your response. Conveniently Cream and Nightsky are at your side rubbing their bodies and tails in front of your face as they both sprawl out on your forearms.

“Guys!”

You scold them but you have no plans to move them instead continuing to text your friend. Occasionally kissing your cat’s heads you continue to inform them–your friend—of even more dirt you’d found on your overly-friendly employers. It lightly amuses you how it looks like your cats are reading the texts as well though you're sure it’s your fingers quickly moving that they’re so entranced by.

A ping goes off and you quickly shoot up to throw on some clothes. The cats look curiously as you crazily hop around before snatching your keys. You smiled at your approaching cats,” Okay boys! Our delivery gal got caught at the gate. So I’m going to go get food be my good boys!”

Blowing kisses, you disappear with a slam and locking of the door.

Your footsteps disappear down the hallway.

And your apartment is silent.

For a little while.

“Geez are we really that off-putting?”

Standing and looking longingly at the door is the pouting and naked, Gojo Satoru. An owner of the company (Y/n) is currently employed at and the only white-haired man who was rubbing his face into the intimate threads of their robe.

Suguru Geto, also stark naked and the CEO of that company was sighing and holding the bridge of his nose, “ Perhaps we really won’t be able to convince them otherwise.”

“Why don’t we just take them now? Burn the condo and sweep ‘em off their feet?”

“Because I know you know they’d hate that.”

Satoru lifted his head with a sadistic smirk and shrugged his shoulders,” So? They’ll get over it!”

Suguru put a disappointed hand over his face if only to hide the smile that tickled his lips. “They’re not like me…or you…we have to be gentle. Too much shock and we’ll ruin them forever.”

Satoru whined, abandoning the robe he snagged to join Suguru on the couch. Posturing himself right above his husband, “C’mmmooonnn! They’re strong enough, they can take it!”

The ravenette wasn’t swayed, teasingly turning his head as he rested he his chin on his hand. “No ‘Toru too high a risk.”

“Then why don’t we take another approach, Satoru lightly turned Suguru’s head towards him flashing his award-winning smile,” How about we work a different angle.”

Suguru’s brow quirked in intrigue.

“One where we happened to be their perfectly timed saviors.”

“Do you really think that’d work?”

“I say we try it! Otherwise, I’m back to Plan: A!”

Suguru couldn’t help but laugh bringing the man down to nuzzle his own nose. Planting a kiss on his lips, he opened wider as Satoru dove in. Pulling away after a minute Suguru cutely mimicked his cat form as he batted his eyes,” Am I forgiven for me and (Y/n)’s time in the bath?”

Satoru sucked his teeth. “You almost made me forget you slimy snake! How dare you?!”

Suguru shrugged with a smirk on his face, sending a scolding look when Gojo growled and angrily clutched at his hair. The tension was released when they both let out boisterous laughter.

The apartment wasn’t silent anymore.

And you’d returned from getting takeout a while ago.

“What the actual f–!”

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utterlyotterlyx · 4 months

Text

The Time Travellers Husband

Rhys x Cassians!Sister!Reader

Summary - The gift of time travel was unique to you and you alone, the only thing is that you can't control where you go or when, or for how long.

Warnings - ptsd, trauma, angsttttttt, fluff, mentions and depictions of SA, Under The Mountain trauma

Word Count - 6.8k (unedited, don't come at me)

Based on this ask x

It was an odd feeling, to travel through time. The sensation of it was like you were swimming toward a tide break, desperate for oxygen that felt an infinite number of lengths away whilst battling the currents of time like they were rips in the ocean waves.

Reaching the destination had never been the issue, it had always been the disappearance, the blinker of your essence as you faded into oblivion for what felt like minutes to only return to your husband hours, days, or even weeks later.

No one understood it. Prythian had never been graced with a traveller before you, even Helion and Thesan had researched endlessly but returned to Rhys empty handed. All he wanted was to help you to control it, he knew the mental toll it often took on you considering how you sometimes travelled to the darkest of places and memories, most of which were never your own.

Nights had come and gone where he would have to cradle you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear whilst you cried from the nightmares that plagued you; of bloody battlefields and torture, both of which you'd have to endure until the Mother decided to send you back to your mate who was waiting for you in Velaris.

Rhys had always been fated to be yours, you were certain of it.

The pair of you had grown up together thanks to Cassian being your older brother by only a couple of minutes, he had been gifted the strength and agility of the gods whilst the Mother had sealed your fate long before you were both even conceived.

It had snapped for Rhys first, on your birthday 300 years ago. Mor had insisted upon throwing you and Cassian a joint surprise birthday party at the House of Wind, though she had told you that she had planned an intimate dinner for you all to make sure that you dressed as best as you could. As a thank you for everything you had done for them, from your incessant teasing to your bounding wisdom, Rhys had delved into his mothers trousseau and had hand-picked the most spectacular dress he or you had ever seen; though, he hadn't told you where he had gotten it, you were led to believe that he had it commissioned.

Rhys had kept it a secret from everyone, he didn't want to upset Cassian or ruin anything for you, he wanted it to snap for you on its own.

It only took a year for the bond to snap for you.

It had been one of the more warmer afternoons in Velaris, and you had been tending to the garden at the River House, planting your favourite shade of peonies into the earth when you felt the sensation. Cassian had returned to the garden to find that you had disappeared, leaving your tools buried in the soil and your scent drifting away in the breeze.

You had been transported to a shared memory, but the projection of your present-day body found itself stood behind Rhys, staring inward at the room buzzing with anticipation. Nerves were pouring from him as he fidgeted in his spot, whisky in hand and swirling it every moment his attention wasn't stolen by a passer-by muttering a greeting to their High Lord.

It was a night you remembered very clearly, but you weren't there to live it again through your point of view, you had been taken there to see it through his.

Looking toward the large double doors of the House of Wind, you watched as they opened to reveal both you and Cassian arm in arm. Cassian was wearing his usual lax trousers and open collared shirt, hair styled into a low bun with strays falling over his face; and then there was you, and you watched Rhys inhale sharply as his eyes landed on your frame, scanning you from head to toe whilst joyous shock consumed your angelic features.

The dress he had gifted to you had certainly been the right choice, it accentuated each and every curve and line of your body, hugging your delicious hips and exposing just the right amount of skin. And your wings, gods, they had fluttered and rustled with every compliment directed at your from a room teeming with whispers. The garment was the shade of newly born starlight, a cascade of fine diamonds had been sewn into the skirt and they flowed downward like lazy ocean waves at sunset. Light bounced off of you, your skin held a certain shimmer to it and the warm faelight was making you glow.

The brightest star in a sea of darkness. Everything felt dim in comparison.

It felt as though you were on the first row at the theatre, enthralled in the emotions of the moment; you examined Rhys closely, how his eyes trailed down your body and then to your face, and then they widened, and he stumbled backward, his fingers floating over that particular spot on his chest whilst the past version of you was none the wiser from her spot on the other side of the room, laughing and thanking Mor for all of the effort she had put in to make your birthday as special as possible.

As though you could see the golden thread winding itself around you, Rhys muttered a singular word to himself, a word that made your heart clench in its cage

Mate.

That night was just over a year ago. Why hadn't he said anything?

Before you could fathom an answer, you felt your essence be pulled back to the present, and you landed in the main living area of the River House feeling confused and conflicted, and betrayed to a degree.

Within moments Rhys was on you, standing at your side whilst your gaze bore into the ground, he could see your mind reeling, replaying whatever you had seen from whichever moment you had been taken to. The sky had grown dark beyond the window, telling you that the day had scurried by whilst you had been kidnapped by your power.

"Hey, hey, hey," Rhys cooed to you, trying to gently pull your mind away from the memory or future, "Where did you go, darling?"

Your brows twitched with every thought that flew through you and Rhys turned your body to face his own, resting his large hands on your arms and rubbing his thumbs softly against the skin he found there, lowering his eyeline to yours to try and capture your gaze.

Then you peered up at him, eyes colliding with pools of violet serenity, and it snapped, your own thread dancing outward to meet the end that had longed for it for so long and you gasped when it found its marker, "When were you going to tell me?"

Knowing what you meant due to the opening of the bond, Rhys' expression faltered, but he held onto you tighter, "I wanted you to find out on your own. The bond is a beautiful thing. I just wanted it to snap for you when you were ready."

Rhys' fingers reached for an escaped strand of hair, delicately tucking it behind your rounded ear in a way that made your wings shiver, "You've lied to me for twelve months."

He cringed, his fingers retracting from the shell of your ear, "It was more like avoiding the truth," you gave him a pointed stare, "Which I know isn't good enough. I'm sorry, y/n."

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you hadn't wondered what a life with Rhys would look like, the High Lord was the most stunning male you had ever seen, and the way he carried himself in front of you and others was so alluring to the point that you often thought of him when you were alone in the confinements of your bedroom. Rhys had always respected you, he had always held a certain tone of humour with you that neither Cassian or Azriel were privy to, and he had always been the one to look out for you the most.

Despite being very well aware of your tactical prowess, Rhys did all he could to avoid sending you on missions, and when he did send you away, it was often on his behalf to other courts, he knew they adored you just as much as he did so much so that you would never truly be in any real danger.

"Say something. Please."

Worry had infected his bones at the possibility that you may not want him, and the longer you stood saying nothing the more tense he became, "My head hurts," and it did, not just from the information, but from the anguish travelling brought upon your body; Rhys knew that little fact better than anyone considering he often tended to you afterward.

A hand rested on the side of your face, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, "Let me look after you," Rhys visibly relaxed when you nodded, exhaustion settling into you and coursing down the bond.

Sweeping you into his arms, Rhys rested his cheek atop your head, inhaling the lavender of your shampoo as he carried you through the house that he had permanently moved into to be closer to you; he paced up the stairs and into your bedroom, laying you onto the pristine white sheets before finding his place beside you and pulling your body flush against his.

Lazily, you traced your fingers over his clothed chest, drawing small circles and tendrils over his heart, "What did you see?" Rhys asked you, his breath caressing your forehead and his digits curling into your hair in the way he knew brought you untold relief.

"Our birthday last year but from your point of view," your voice paused for a moment as you recounted the images in your mind, you craned your head upward to meet his nervous gaze like he knew that all it would take for his dreams to burn would be the mere action of you pulling away from him, "I saw how you looked at me from across the room when the bond snapped for you, I felt the air shift in a way. You were looking at me like I was the brightest star in the Prythian skies."

A ghosting smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, your voice was soft, void of any anger. Rhys dragged his thumb across your lips, resting it at the dimple in your cheek, "You are." Rhys' eyes drifted over your face, drinking in the fine lines of happiness that had embedded themselves at the corners of your eyes, "You are the star which points to home. You are my homeland, y/n. I think that you always have been."

Watching your gaze soften, he had to ask you, "Does the idea of me disgust you? The idea of us?"

A furrowed brow greeted him, but you shook your head softly, your cheek rubbing against the silk of his shirt, "How can I look away now that I have seen you?" Reaching to brush your fingers against his jaw, eye sparkling and brimming with the silent permission he had been waiting for.

In one swift but gentle motion, Rhys rolled you onto your back, cupping your face in his hands and hovering his lips a whisker away from your own. His breath fanned across your face, it was warm but heavy, he was overthinking it and what it would mean, but nothing would stop him from claiming you. Not even Cassian.

You pulled his eyes to meet yours, dragging him from the thoughts that plagued him, and like you were a spring in eons of desert, Rhys drank. Connecting his lips to yours was something he had only allowed himself to dream of, but nothing could have prepared him for how you tasted. Honeysuckle and sea salt, with the slightest hint of sweet spice. Rhys couldn't stop himself from deepening the embrace, running his tongue along your bottom lip and then darting it into your parted mouth, exploring every inch you would allow him to whilst curling the fingers of his free hand around your hip, his other resting at the back of your head.

Reluctantly, Rhys created a space between your lips, feeling himself losing control of his body the longer he was connected to you; he watched closely as your chest rose and fell in quick succession, the curve of your breasts grazing against his shirt and lips sinfully swollen from the onslaught of his adoration for you. He found his place beside you once more, pulling you to him so that your head rested on his chest, "Rest now. We can face the world tomorrow."

What you wouldn't give to go back to that moment. Everything had been so much simpler then. The new nerves and the oncoming anger from Cassian had been the only negativity in your world, though, your twin had taken the news much better than you had expected, he had only beaten Rhys once before the happiness for you had taken over.

If you were going to be mated to anyone, at least it was to the person who doted you and protected you at all costs.

It didn't take long until he was asking when the first babe would arrive.

It wasn't like you didn't want children with Rhys, it had been a topic that made you both excited, but you were also very happy with one another so had decided to not explicitly try for a babe, but if it happened then you would both be overjoyed. It took of mounds of pressure from your shoulders.

The mating ceremony itself had been beautiful, Rhys had truly spared no expense on the intimate ceremony where he had also sworn you in as High Lady of the Night Court in front of your family, and he had cried nearly as hard as Cassian when you saw you walking down the aisle in the dress that you knew belonged to his mother, the same one he had seen you in when the bond had snapped for him with some minor alterations, that being a lace veil that clipped into each loosely wound braid of your hair and matching gloves that kisses above your elbows.

The Inner Circle had succumb to the possibility that they wouldn't see you both for at least a month afterward. You were far too radiant for Rhys to allow from his sight, not only as his newly wedded wife, but also as his High Lady and the future mother of his children. You were exquisite.

Centuries passed and your love and devotion toward one another never waned, if anything it only grew, and you didn't think it possible that you could love anything else more than Rhys, and you were right.

There wasn't a single moment of the day where you didn't want to rip his clothes off and have him fuck you until you couldn't form coherent words, and he was always happy to oblige you. No matter what he was doing, whether working through stacks of paperwork in his office with hair messed from raking his fingers through it or relaxing in the living area after a long day, if you entered his space with that feline speck in your eye, he would be the one throwing everything aside to be pulling those mewls from your lips.

It was a love that Prythian would never see again, a love it would always search for and wither when it couldn't be found.

What you'd give to go back to that. Back to the time before Amarantha happened.

You remembered the feeling as though it happened only yesterday, the tidal wave of love and regret and sorrow, a pleading tsunami that you returned with your own, and you could almost see his sad smile, drowning in that feeling for a heartbeat longer before the bond went cold. Cassian and Azriel had burst into the room after hearing your screams all the way from the training ring at the House of Wind, finding you balled up atop the cold ground sobbing and clutching at the skin where your heart lay.

Azriel had moved to you first, his arms wrapping around your body and shadows peppering your tear-stained cheeks, he coaxed your ire from you, freezing as you told him that the bond had gone cold. It had only taken a few minutes for him to piece it together, of Amarantha no doubt trapping him below the mountain and him playing along in order to protect his court, his home, his y/n.

It had taken weeks for you to rise from the ashes of your bedroom, you had refused to move from the sheets that held his scent deep within them. But you were the High Lady of the Night Court, and Amren was struggling to lead the court on her own. Throwing yourself into your tripled duties was all that you could do, if Rhys ever came home, then that home had to be healthy and flourishing.

The citizens of Velaris pitied you more than they mourned the absence of their High Lord, you were the image of despair, pallid skin and a certain voidness to you usually bright eyes, though it didn't stop you from ruling over the court whatsoever. The only time when you would break would when you would be alone, and Cassian and Azriel couldn't allow you to wither away any longer so moved you into the House of Wind, leaving your once perfect home abandoned.

Before you knew it, 50 years had drawled by, 50 years without your mate and best friend. Life had tried to curl around you gracefully, to will you back into some form of enjoyment, and Azriel had coaxed you to accept the hand offered to you, so you did, but there wasn't a single moment that came and went that you didn't think of Rhys and what he was enduring Under The Mountain.

"Cassian, have you been to Windhaven lately? I need an update on the wing clipping laws we put in place." You entered the study, your pale blue dress dragging behind you from the pace of your steps, the crown growing heavy on your head.

It had always been something you and Rhys had spoken of, banning the archaically brutal practice of wing clipping in Illyria. Once upon a time you had almost been one of those young girls, pinned to the ashen soil with a blade a feathers touch away from taking the most sacred part of you. Luckily it never happened, and you had Cassian, Azriel and Rhys to thank for it.

Not looking up from the reports in your fingers, "Cass?" you gritted, too exhausted to deal with his silence. You had disappeared again that day, it had happened much more frequently over the last 50 years without Rhys by your side, but you weren't allowed to rest when you would return, there was always too much to do. "Cassian." Finally you looked up, finding your twin leaning against your desk with a shit-eating grin on his face and puffy eyes, "Are you going to answer me within the next two working minutes or shall I just go to Windhaven myself?"

"Oh how I have missed that voice."

Frozen in place, you felt your heartbeat rattle in your chest at that voice, the voice that haunted every moment you lived no matter if you were sleeping or walking the city aimlessly. Needing some form of confirmation you looked up to Cassian, your bottom lip wobbling when he nodded once at you and leaned back.

Then you felt him, his hands on your hips and nose grazing the curve of your shoulder, those two things alone making the reports in your fingers float to the floor. His chest met your back, his arms wound around your midsection, "Tell me that I'm not travelling right now."

A chuckle rumbled within the chest behind you, his lips pressed dainty kisses to your exposed skin, "I'm here. It's real."

A sob fell from your mouth and you turned in his arms, you buried your head into the nape of his neck and cried, and you felt bad for it, you weren't the one trapped in that place, but part of you had wished that you had been.

At some point during your crying and Rhys shushing you softly with his fingers running through your hair, Cassian had left the room, closing the door on his exit to give you both the privacy you so desperately needed. Another few moments passed and Rhys pulled away slightly, creating a small space between you so that he could hold your face in his hands and know that it was all real, that everything he had endured had been worth it just to have that moment.

"You look exhausted, my love," his thumbs caressed the skin of your slightly hallowed cheeks, his face lowering to level with your own. He didn't look much better than you did, his eyes were darkened with the things he had seen, his skin rough and pallid from the lack of sun, fine lines of worry and anguish ran along his forehead, "Cassian told me that you've been running this court on your own," he told you with a gentle smile, knowing how difficult it must have been for you to rule without him, to take on that load and also deal with your gift, "You've done so well, darling. I'm so lucky to have you."

Rhys pressed his lips to your forehead like a mother would a babe, loving and certain, and you couldn't help but sob again at the words and his touch, "I thought I wasn't going to see you again. I thought you had left me forever. When the bond went cold, and I couldn't feel you, I thought-"

"Hey. Don't think that. There is no reality where I wouldn't return to you, y/n," he rested his fingers at the base of your neck, relishing at the touch of your skin beneath his fingertips, "You are the only thing that kept me alive down there," his eyes glassed over, replaying memories he would soon rather forget, "I couldn't look into your eyes, but they were all I thought about. I memorised your face long ago, but it was a mirror for me there, or a prayer I had to recite nightly to make me remember who was waiting for me. I told you that you are my homeland, I will always come back to you."

Tears rolled down both of your cheeks when he kissed you, so full of need but also so hesitant, it was tender and light and warm, and you felt the floodgates of your bond crash open, your heart fighting against the tide of his relief and exhaustion, of his love and regret.

"But right now, I would like to bathe with my wife, and hold her until we both fall asleep. That's all I want, to hold you. Can we do that? Please?"

You had never been able to say no to Rhys and you weren't about to start, not when his eyes were weary and heavy with the turmoil of being away from you for so long, for witnessing and taking part in the acts that he had.

Carefully, you took his hand in yours, entwining your fingers and kissing his knuckles, "Of course we can," a gentle tug from you spurred him to move, and you led him through the House of Wind to your private chambers, mumbling to him that sleeping in your shared rooms had been too painful.

The tub was already steaming by the time you entered the bathroom, candles were lit and the window showed the golden valley you both adored so much as well as the snow-capped mountains. A once sultry act of undressing one another held a new meaning, you stripped one another bare with the upmost of care, taking time to touch one another as if you'd blink and it would all be gone.

Rhys lowered himself into the water first, almost groaning at the lavender soak that seeped into his muscles, and he held a hand out to you, positioning himself perfectly to accommodate you between his legs and running his fingers along the membrane of the wings you had done your best to tuck away.

"I love you so much," he kissed the glistening skin on your shoulder, trailing his lips from the spot up to the shell of your ear, and he smiled into your hair when you returned the sentiment, kissing his open palms and drowning in his power.

It didn't take long for exhaustion to settle within both of you, and once it had, Rhys lifted you from the tub and wasted no time in drying you and pulling one of his shirts over your head, pecking your nose once it was secured around your frame and nestling into bed with you for the most tranquil nights sleep he had gotten in 50 years.

It had taken Rhys a few weeks to feel comfortable enough to be intimate with you, he had never given you a reason, but you knew why. There had been many rumours of Amarantha's whore, and you could only imagine how he was feeling. Whether he didn't wish to admit it to you for fear of embarrassment or judgement, you weren't really sure, but you would never push him. Everything had to be done when he was ready and he alone.

You'd wait an eternity if that's what your mate needed.

Settling back into life in Velaris had been strange for him, he didn't know a single thing that had gone on in his court during his absence, but you walked him through it all. From your detailed reports, Rhys realised just how much love you had poured into his, your, city; orphanages had opened in the city offering education to the less fortunate, you had cracked down on the barbaric act of wing clipping so much so that there were very few cases reported in the last three years, and you had funded so many projects that would better the lives of all, from art galleries and theatres to community gardens, the Night Court was undeniably thriving.

"How have you accomplished all of this?" Rhys had asked you one morning as he scanned over all of the reports, flitting through the pages in wonder.

You had nervously picked at the skin around your nails at the question, "In all honesty I never really stopped working," his gaze met yours and he softened, opening his arms to you and pulling you into his lap, "I was scared that if I stopped doing all of this," you motioned to the papers littering the desk, "That the weight of your absence would consume me. I wanted to make you proud."

"I'll always be proud of you, my incredible mate and wife. You are amazing. Truly."

The darkness still gathered beneath his eyes, more nights than not you'd be awakened from slumber by his nightmares, and you would rise immediately to hold him, to remind him of where he was and that she was gone. It was clear that he didn't wish to burden you with the details, as usual, he was protecting you.

After a couple of months, Rhys felt like he was back to his old self, his usual banter with his brothers was rife and he was spending a lot more quality time with you whenever he had the opportunity. Everything had felt peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

The feeling you hadn't been consumed by since the day of his return had slowly settled in your gut, clawing and tearing at your essence, but it felt more sinister, like it wanted to ruin you. Crashing ceramic pulled Rhys from his book to see you in the doorway, your hands turning translucent and eyes full of terror as it travelled up your arms. Rhys was moving to you in an instant, trying to reach you before you disappeared entirely but he was too late, his fingers moving through you like you weren't even there.

It felt as though death itself had come to take you in that moment as you clawed your way to the surface.

You had landed in a place you didn't recognise, dark stone glistening with day old rain, hallways illuminated by lanterns and torches. The halls were wide, so tall that you felt tiny in comparison to them, and you knew where you were, where the Mother had decided to take you.

Under The Mountain.

A faint voice drifted through the air to you, pulling you toward it, and you followed the call, peaking into each room before you found the one where the sounds felt much more powerful. Though, nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness.

The room was dark, dressed in hues of black and wine red, faelight illuminated the walls lined with various dark artworks, a curved tub sat to the left, and in the centre was a large four poster bed, and on that bed was your husband and that creature of a woman you knew to be Amarantha.

Rhys' eyes were closed as he thrusted into her, his brow furrowed and face flashing with pain and remorse, you covered your mouth to conceal your gasp, forgetting that neither of them could see you. Amarantha lay beneath your husband, moaning and raking her talons down his spine, breaking the skin and grinning at the blood sweeping across her lips; her legs were wound around his waist, pushing him deeper into her with every rock of his hips.

"Tell me, Pet," she drawled, rolling him onto his back and sinking down on him, riding his cock and muffling her delight at the feeling, "How do you think your precious wife would feel if she knew what we did each night?" Rhys visibly tensed, "Do you think that she would still love you? Do you think that she would still want to be wed to you?"

Everything within you was telling you to look away, but you couldn't.

It was a question that Rhys couldn't answer, mostly because he didn't want to think about what you would do if you knew, which was the reason why he hadn't told you.

Tears streaked down your face, dripping onto the stone cold floor with every roll of her hips, "Who would want to be wedded to a cheating whore?" Amarantha's talon dragged down the column of his throat, "Do you not think that she deserves so much better than a male who would allow this?"

A moment of silence passed from Rhys, a silence that was filled with her moans as she neared her release, "Yes, I think that she does."

The words broke your heart, that your mate truly believed that you deserved better than what he had done, the things she had made him do. Each night she tormented him, made him submit to her against his will, and told him that you wouldn't want him when she was done.

With that soul-tearing admittance, Amarantha's movements jolted around him, her talons tugged at her hair as her moans climbed and she rode out her release, and once she had slowed, she wasted no time in removing herself from your mate and pulling a robe over her alabaster skin, smirking to him wordlessly before padding right past you on her exit.

It had all been to protect his home from her, and by extension, you. And that fact made you feel sick to your stomach, so sick that you felt the bile rising upward. Rhys had endured the unspeakable to protect his court and family, he knew what Amarantha would do if she got her hands on any of you, but it would be you who would suffer the most, and you knew that Rhys would stop at nothing to avoid that.

As soon as she was far enough away, you watched Rhys crumble; he perched on the edge of that large four poster bed with his head buried into his palms, loud, painful sobs causing his body to tremble and quake. His pain roared through him, "I love you," you rushed to him, you tried to reach for him but your fingers passed right through his body that was covered by a thin onyx sheet, "I love you," he repeated but more strained, he looked to the ceiling, his cheeks stained with his anguish and guilt, "I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so sorry."

"Rhys, please," your broken voice pleaded, but he couldn't hear you, no one ever could when you travelled, you were a simple bystander in these types of memories, "I love you."

The loud sobs of your mate continued, he wrapped his arms around himself, it had been the only thing to bring him comfort, and it was clear that he was imagining that it was you holding him and not himself. Rhys carried on apologising to the skies, hoping that his sincerity would reach you, hoping that you knew just how much he loved you and how much he would endure to keep you safe from her.

You weren't sure how long you knelt before him on that cold stone floor, telling him that everything would be alright, that no matter what happened you would never stop loving him whilst your own sobs broke your heart at the sight of your mate looking so defeated and worthless.

Only when that memory began to fade did you realise that the Mother was done with you, that she deemed you enlightened enough to return you to your home.

You landed with a thud, your knees crumpling beneath the weight of your body making you a blubbering mess on the floor. Marred hands found you instantly, shaking your shoulder softly until you found their owner, hazel pools of worry sketched over your face, his shadows frantically weaving between one another with panic. Sound had become muffled, like you were in a daze, you faintly knew that Azriel had called out to someone, likely telling them to fetch your husband as your focus honed in on him, "Where did you go, y/n?" Azriel had never looked so distressed, "You've been gone for three weeks."

Three weeks.

Rhys must have been going insane.

All you could do is cry and fall into his arms, the vision of your mate causing your body to shake, and Azriel folded you into his embrace, rubbing circles into your back, "I was Under The Mountain," you told him between sobs and he froze, like he knew what you had seen, "I'm going to throw up."

Another presence entered the room and moved to the two of you, an angelic touch graced your lower back and a bowl appeared before you, her fingers tugged your hair from your face as you hunched over and emptied the contents of your stomach, "It's alright," Mor cooed to you, rubbing your back to ensure you had gotten out what you needed to, curtly telling Azriel to meet Rhys and Cassian before they entered and saw you in such a position.

Mor held you as you sobbed, your guilt eating you from the inside out from knowing that Rhys had endured all that pain and suffering and abuse to keep you all safe, to protect you from the devil incarnate.

It didn't take long for the doors to open once more, Rhys took one look at your coiled frame, and the bowl to your left, and strode over to you, sliding onto his knees and gathering you in his arms. Knowing you wouldn't be able to tell him what exactly it was that you saw, you felt him caress your mental shields, asking for permission to enter, and you allowed it, you allowed him to sift through the images and felt his grip tighten around you.

Rhys scooped you into his arms and didn't say a single word to anyone on your exit, he carried you to your shared bedroom at the House of Wind, the same place you had accepted the bond centuries prior, and settled you onto the edge of the bed, kneeling before you and kissing your knuckles.

"I'm sorry that she did that to you," tears flowed down your face, landing on the backs of his hands, "I'm sorry that you had to do that to protect us."

Surprise settled onto his face at your words, like he wasn't expecting anything of that nature to leave your lips, "I'm sorry that she made you believe that I wouldn't love you because of it. I do love you, more than you'll ever know. Nothing would ever be able to take me from you."

Rhys picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and perching on the space where you had been seated only moments before; he peered up at you, his eyes the lightest shade of violet you had ever seen them, "Don't apologise for something that wasn't your doing," he wiped your tears, "I would do it all again if it meant that you would be safe, I'd endure the most wicked of punishments to keep you healthy and alive."

"I don't want you to ever feel like that again."

"I won't. I'll never leave you, not until death finds me and even then I will cling onto life with everything I have left so that I'll be able to find you in the next. It's always been you, and it'll always be you. There is nothing that can take me from you, I would burn the world to ash if anyone ever tried it, do you hear me?"

Rhys knew how hard it had been for you even if you hadn't told him yourself. It had been Azriel who had confided in Rhys about your mental state over the years, how you struggled to sleep and that when you did you were haunted by his loss, how you had travelled more often and for longer periods of time than before and how you always returned to them exhausted and little more broken than the last time. Rhys had been told how hard the entire Inner Circle had to work to contain you, to make sure that you didn't journey to Under The Mountain yourself and get yourself tortured and killed right before his eyes.

Desperate to hear your voice, Rhys continued on, "You and I are entwined for eternity, my love. Our life is going to be full of wonder and joy, that is what we fight for. In 100 years when we have our own babe and a life of serenity, I'll know that everything we went through was worth it, to have a chance to create the life we always dreamed of, the life we spoke of before the bond snapped and we were just Rhys and y/n dreaming about the future."

Rhys' fingers ran through your hair, pulling all of the tension from your body in the exact way he knew that you needed, "Tell me how much you love me."

Your palms rested flat on his chest, his heartbeat thumping through the skin to feel you, and he smiled softly, "I love the way your skin feels beneath mine," his arms pulled you closer into his chest, his chin rested atop your breastbone and his eyes bore into yours, "I love the little noises you make in the night when you're getting comfortable, and the little content sighs when I wrap my arms around you. I love the sound of your voice and your laugh. I love your truth and wisdom, and how you've never been afraid to do what is right despite the consequences. The world bores me - it bores me and irritates me when I'm away from you. You're the only thing that makes this life worth living. I love you, I love you more than our insanely irritating family," a gentle laugh passed through your lips, and you sniffled, "I love you more than this court or my power, I love you more than life itself, because what is the meaning of life if you aren't in it?"

"Rhys?" He hummed in question, still staring deep into your soul, "Love me. Please." It was a whisper, one you weren't quite sure he had heard, but he nodded gentle and placed you onto your back, ensuring that there were enough pillows beneath your head before he lowered his lips to meet yours.

Rhys made sure that he showed you how much he adored you and everything that you had given him, his lips covering every inch of your skin in a night filled with passion and the purest or adoration. And, unbeknownst to either of you in that moment, it seemed that your collective dreams were going to come true a lot sooner than you thought.

Author's Note

Brb crying x

(Also happy 1k followers besties, my first Rhysie fic is here for the occasion)

#acotar imagine #acotar #acotar fanfiction #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #rhysand #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #cassian #azriel acotar #mor acotar #amren

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soldiersareyourprotectors · 4 months

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Mike and Tim loved each other deeply. Mike, with his towering frame and muscular build, looked every bit the athlete. He was the star of the local rugby team, known for his strength and agility. Tim, on the other hand, was lean and wiry, with a sharp intellect and a quick wit that matched his keen eyes. They had been together for three years, and while their friends and family assumed the dynamics of their relationship, only they knew the truth.

In public, they played their roles well. Mike would wrap an arm protectively around Tim's shoulders, pulling him close as they navigated through life. Tim would lean into Mike, a small smile playing on his lips as if to say, "Yes, he's mine." They were the picture-perfect couple, and everyone admired them, envying their seemingly perfect chemistry.

What people didn't see was the subtle dance of power that took place behind closed doors. In their private sanctuary, Mike's broad shoulders and imposing stature meant nothing. As soon as they stepped into their apartment, the roles reversed.

One evening, after a particularly grueling rugby match, Mike trudged into their apartment, sweat glistening on his body. Tim was already home, sitting on the couch with a book in hand. He looked up as Mike entered, his eyes softening for a moment before a mischievous glint replaced the tenderness.

"Rough game?" Tim asked, closing his book and setting it aside.

Mike nodded, his muscles aching and his mind weary. "Yeah, they really put us through the wringer tonight."

Tim stood and walked over to Mike, his lean form moving with an effortless grace.

He reached up, cupping Mike's face in his hands and pulling him down for a deep, lingering kiss. When they broke apart, Tim's voice was low and commanding.

"Shower. Now."

Mike's eyes widened slightly, but he obeyed without question. He stripped off his clothes as he walked to the bathroom, the hot water a welcome relief against his tired muscles. As he stood under the spray, he felt the tension slowly ebb away, replaced by a different kind of anticipation. As the hot water cascaded over Mike's sore muscles, he found himself replaying Tim's firm command in his mind. Tonight felt different, special, as if Tim had planned something extraordinary. Stepping out of the shower, Mike wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way to the bedroom, feeling a flutter of anticipation.

Tim stood by the bed, his eyes dark and intense, an air of authority radiating from him. The room was dimly lit, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. "Come here," Tim instructed, his voice steady and commanding.

Mike obeyed, crossing the room and standing before Tim, who reached out to gently untie the towel around Mike's waist, letting it fall to the floor. Tim's touch was electric, his fingers tracing patterns over Mike's chest and down his arms, sending shivers through his body.

Tim reached up, trailing his fingers lightly over Mike's chest, his touch sending shivers down Mike's spine. "You did well today," Tim murmured, his voice a seductive whisper. "But now, it's time to let go." Mike felt his knees weaken, sinking to the floor in submission. Tim guided him to the bed, his movements confident and deliberate, his control absolute.

For the rest of the night, Tim led Mike through an intricate dance of pleasure and obedience. Every touch, every whisper was calculated to drive Mike to the edge and back, each moment more intense than the last. Mike surrendered completely, reveling in the freedom that came with letting Tim take control.

As the night deepened, their connection grew stronger, the boundaries between them blurring until all that remained was the raw, unfiltered expression of their love and trust. When they finally collapsed into each other's arms, spent and satisfied, Mike drifted off to sleep with a deep sense of contentment.

The next morning, Mike awoke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. He reached out, expecting to find Tim beside him, but the bed was empty.

Confused, Mike sat up, rubbing his eyes, and that's when he noticed something strange. His body felt different, smaller. He looked down and gasped. The body he saw wasn't his own; it was Tim's.

Heart pounding, Mike scrambled out of bed and rushed to the mirror. Staring back at him was Tim's reflection. He touched his face, his hands, unable to comprehend what had happened. Just then, the bedroom door opened, and in walked Tim-or rather, Mike's body with Tim's confident stride.

Tim, now in Mike's muscular form, grinned at the look of shock on Mike's face.

"Surprise," he said, his voice carrying a hint of triumph.

"What... how?" Mike stammered, struggling to find his voice.

Tim approached, his movements fluid and commanding. "I've been working on this for a while," he explained, flexing his new, powerful muscles. "I wanted to give us an experience neither of us would ever forget."

Mike's mind raced, a mix of disbelief and awe flooding his senses. "You... you swapped our bodies?"

Tim nodded, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "And now," he said, stepping closer,

"I'm going to show you what it's like to be on the receiving end."

Before Mike could react, Tim's strong hands were on him, pushing him back onto the bed. Tim's newfound strength and size made resistance futile. He pinned Mike down, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes burning with a dominant fire.

"Relax," Tim murmured, his voice deep and reassuring. "Let me take care of you."

Despite the surreal situation, Mike felt a familiar thrill coursing through him.

He trusted Tim implicitly, and the idea of experiencing this new dynamic was intoxicating. He nodded, surrendering once more, this time to the powerful form of the man he loved.

Mike lay back on the bed, still reeling from the intensity of the shock. Tim, now in Mike's powerful body, towered over him, his expression a blend of satisfaction and authority. "Relax," Tim said softly yet commandingly as he positioned himself. The sensation of Tim's strong hands gripping his hips made Mike shiver. It was surreal to see his own muscular arms and broad shoulders moving with Tim's confident precision.

With a firm, controlled push, Tim entered Mike, the initial shock quickly giving way to waves of intense pleasure. Tim's powerful body thrust into him, each movement precise and deliberate. Mike's smaller frame felt every inch, every movement, as Tim guided him through a symphony of pleasure.

Tim's dominance was complete. He used his newly acquired strength to pin Mike down, his thrusts growing more intense. Mike moaned, surrendering completely to the overwhelming sensation, his trust in Tim absolute. The experience was electrifying, a mix of raw power and deep intimacy that left them both breathless.

Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through Mike's body, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Tim's control was unyielding, his dominance absolute. He drove into Mike with a rhythm that spoke of both passion and mastery, each movement precise and powerful.

Finally, as they both neared the peak of their shared ecstasy, Tim's thrusts became more urgent, more forceful. Mike cried out, his body trembling with the force of his climax, matched by the powerful release from Tim. They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat, utterly spent and deeply satisfied.

For a few moments, they lay there in silence, their breathing gradually slowing.

Mike looked up at Tim, still in awe of the experience. "That was... unbelievable," he whispered.

Tim smiled down at him, his eyes softening. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from Mike's forehead.

As they lay there, basking in the afterglow, Tim's expression grew more serious.

"There's something you need to know," he said quietly.

Mike's heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"

Tim took a deep breath. "The body swap... it's permanent."

Mike's eyes widened in shock. "Permanent?"

Tim nodded. "I don't have any regrets, Mike. This is how it's meant to be. You need to accept it. I wanted to give us something more than just a temporary experience.

I wanted us to truly become who we are inside. You've always been the strong, dominant one in public, but in private, you love to submit. And I've always been the one in control, no matter how we appeared to others. Now, our bodies match our true selves."

Mike struggled to process the enormity of what Tim had done. He looked down at his new, leaner form, then back up at Tim's muscular body. Despite the shock, he couldn't deny the rightness of it. This body felt more like him, just as Tim's new form suited him perfectly.

Tim's smile turned mischievous. "I can't wait to live life as you in public, being the hot local rugby player. Stepping into your gear for the matches is going to be amazing." He paused, eyeing Mike's new slender frame. "And you know what? You should become a cheerleader for us. With your now skinny frame, you'll fit right in."

Mike's mind whirled at the idea, but as he lay there, cradled in his-no, Tim’s-strong arms, a sense of acceptance began to wash over him. This was their new reality, and he trusted Tim completely.

Tim looked down at him, his eyes soft but firm. "From now on, we should call each other by our new names. You are Tim, and I am Mike. This is who we are now."

Mike—no, Tim-nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Alright, Mike," he said, testing the name on his tongue. "I trust you."

Tim— now the real Mike—leaned down, kissing him tenderly. "I know you do, Tim.

And I'm going to take care of you, just as you deserve."

The new Mike grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "I love controlling your tall, muscular body in public, and I'll love it even more in private, with you being the smaller one now. It's going to be incredible."

#body swap #male body swap #male transformation #muscular men #stolen body #stolen clothes #stolen life #swapped couple

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beetlejuicyy · 4 months

Text

The Hunt | True Form! Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: you convince Sukuna to go for a hunt like the old times. the difference is you are his prey this time

Warnings: obviously outdoor sex, primal play, predator/prey, CNC, creampie, established relationship, light degradation, safeword (not used), chasing

Word Count: 4.4K

Read on AO3

Masterlist | Divider by @joj0su

It was going to rain soon. The king of curses could sense it in the air, although no clouds were weighing down the sky. The wind carrying your scent back to him will make his hunt much easier. He already had it on his fingers when he sniffed them, like a predator identifying its prey. It was sweet and addictive, creeping up deep into his brain, compelling him to chase more. After a few moments of pondering, he decided to grant you more time to get lost into the woods of his estate. The balance of power was already unfair enough.

What if I left your side right now and ran away?

Sukuna frowned, his agile crimson eyes measuring your small frame as if pinning you in place with one simple look. You were at the table, in the main hall, having lunch.

I would catch you faster than you can imagine.

You knew that, he could tell from the smug smile stretching across your lips as you played with the food on your plate. Sukuna had noticed already that you didn't really have an appetite.

What if I would really fight to get away from you?

Sukuna sneered in response to your silly question, taking another sip of his drink. As if you could ever overpower him.

And I would act like I don’t want you to touch me, like I want to escape.

You must have been really bored the past few days in his absence, since your mind was preoccupied with such fantasies. He leaned back, placing the upper set of arms on the floor to support his body, while the other two were crossed, dismissively.

Would you take me by force?

You finally looked up at him, doe eyes glimmering with unknown excitement through your lashes.

I would bring you back, yes. You are not allowed to leave.

Sukuna would occasionally entertain your meaningless mind games, only because he was aware of how much it pleased you when he indulged in your mischievous and curious nature. However, he was failing to understand the hidden meaning of this one.

Would you take me by force, my king?

You asked again, but this time your words were coated in a promising intent, thick and sweet like honey, your eyebrows raised in a pleading look. His head leaned to the side, his mind putting in more effort to unveil the mystery of your riddle. Your sensual voice had awakened a desire inside him, the more his red eyes looked into yours, the clearer the picture you were painting for him.

I would, yes.

You were speaking the same language, at last. He uncrossed his arms, all four of his palms pressed flat on the floor behind him. His position was inviting, but you were planning on running away.

And if I screamed?

You asked, your hand stretching across the table to pick a ripe peach. When your teeth sunk into the soft and sweet pulp a thin thread of juice spilled at the corner of your lips, falling down across your chin.

I would cover your mouth shut.

Sukuna answered, his eyes leaving your enticing ones to follow the course of the peach juice falling across the skin of your neck, down under the hem of your robe, most probably between your breasts. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry, as if the only solution to quench his thirst was that single drop of juice on your skin.

And if I kicked you?

You took another bite of fruit, the crunching sound of your teeth ripping the flesh off the seed echoing in the silent room.

I would hold you down.

For a while, you contemplated in silence while munching on your peach. Sukuna never let his eyes leave your body, his mind already stirred by the idea you implanted with your words, his pupils dilated with intoxicating lust.

I will hurt you. And you will like it.

He added after a few moments of silence as you discarded the naked peach seed on a plate. You didn’t bother wiping away the mess you made around your mouth. It was hardly visible, but there was a sticky sensation of the sugary liquid dried on your skin and the sweet smell spread in the air around you. Sukuna wanted to lean over the table and lick it off. You only smiled in response to his words, a faint, contained smile that held back a million of possibilities.

I will be taking a walk in the woods. All by myself.

You announced.

Isn’t it dangerous?

He asked with a grin.

I've heard there's a beast lurking in the forest, indeed.

You said as you sat up, gathering the flowing fabrics of your kimono. You passed by him on your way to the door and you felt one of his rough hands grab your wrist.

How do I know if you change your mind?

Sukuna could easily determine your moods and thoughts with a quick simple look, even when you would refuse to speak. However, in this hypothetical situation, that was getting closer and closer to becoming reality, he doubted he could tell the difference. You looked down at him, taking a moment to admire the savage beauty of his body, the brutality of his four muscular arms, his massive shoulders. He could break you in half. The thought only made the wetness between your legs spread.

I will use a safeword.

You buried your fingers in his soft pink hair, almost the same shade as the peach you just ate. It was highly contrasting with the rest of his appearance, bringing out the roughness of his features even more.

Which is...?

He looked up at you, all of his crimson eyes focused on yours. You leaned down to whisper in his ear, although no one was there to hear your secret.

Peach.

Sukuna felt his cocks twich when your hand gently touched his ear. He looked back at you with one eyebrow raised, skeptical.

It sounds very puerile.

For a moment, you almost lost him. What was the point of these silly artifices? If you craved him carnally, a meaningful look and a soft touch from you would be enough for him to take the hint. He could take you right there, on the table, and satisfy your sexual appetite like he always did.

How long has it been since you last went on a hunt, my king?

Sukuna licked his lips unconsciously, your words sparking vivid images in his mind. He remembered telling you tales of old times, when he would enjoy bringing the terror on his prey, wether it was an animal, a human or an enemy. It had been too long since he last enjoyed it, having grown so powerful that no one could match his speed and ferocity to be called entertaning. One hand of his creeped up between your legs under your attire, as he was still pondering on the idea. You shivered under his touch, and he smiled slighly when your fingers gripped his hair a little tighter. The tips of his fingers ghosted lightly over your cunt, barely touching it. It was enough to get them wet with your juices. For a moment, you thought he had lost all of his patience and wasn't willing to play the part anymore. However, his hand retreated, leaving you sighing in disappointment. He seemed content with his discovery, almost surprised that you got yourself that wet only by thinking of him.

Peach, huh?

The muffled voices of servants were echoing louder on the hallway. It was around time they come and check the table in case their master requested more food. If someone did step foot in the room, they might destroy all the tension you had skillfully built in order to have Sukuna indulge in your fantasy.

Don't listen to anything I say, unless I say peach. If I do, it means I've changed my mind.

You always amused him whenever you had that serious tone, almost like giving him commands. He was going to let it slide this time, though, as he let it slide so many times before.

You have ten minutes.

The sunlight barely made it through the thick ceiling of tree branches full of leaves. The more you ran, the darker it got. For some good minutes, you couldn't even see ahead of you until your eyes adjusted. The notion of time was already a foreign concept to you. Time was measured now in the fast pace of your beating heart, threatening to plummet out of your chest. It felt like your veins were depleted of blood and the only thing keeping you going was the fear of being caught.

You started running without thinking much about it, almost simulating. The image of Sukuna's massive build was impregnated in your mind. The more you dived into the cold darkness, the more refined your senses became. The leaves on the ground were damp on your bared feet, squirrels were jumping from branch to branch, scratching against the tree bark, the air was humind and cold, stinging your throat. Your heart was booming in your ears like a war drum, but more importantly it was pulsating between your legs, a constant reminder of who you were running from.

You had to stop and catch your breath. You were in no physical condition to be straining your body to this extent. The layers of your kimono were also making your movements more difficult, the weight and tightness around your waist uncomfortable. After filling your lungs with fresh air you decided to get rid of these impediments. To hide your tracks, you struggled to bury the outer robe you discarded under a fallen tree trunk, covering the brightly colored fabric with leaves. Now that you were lighter, with only one long and thin piece of clothing covering your body, you felt safer. The forest was overall quiet and the lack of light gave you the feeling of safety, instead of frightening you like the first time. You were still on the edge, ears focused to pick up any unusual sound, but for now, at least, you were safe.

Perhaps you should look for a place to hide. The idea came more like an instinct than a rational thought. Sukuna must have already started his hunt. While you were looking for a suitable spot where you could fit your body and conceal your presence, a flock of birds took off in the distance. The overlayed sound of ruffling leaves and fluttering wings made your heart sink for a moment. But it was only birds, so you continued your search undisturbed until a white rabbit darted out of a bush, passing by you in its frenetic run. You would have dismissed this occurence as well if you didn't feel it. It hit you like a sudden enlightenment, the air thicker, heavier as if something was breathing all of it, leaving none for the other creatures of the forest. Now it was truly quiet. The birds had fled. The squierrls were hiding inside their dens. No bunny, no deer, not even insects crawling on the wood, eating away the rotten parts of the forest. Everything seemed to have stopped, frozen, frightened.

He was coming.

Terror was creeping up your muscles, like a parasyte dictating your behaviour. It pushed you to run, but everything else around you was quiet. Wasn't it smarter to follow the natural instinct of the animals, lay low until the threat goes away? You didn't blend in with the forest, though. Your pink robe, loosely tied around your waist, was contrasting with the dark greens and browns of the environment, making you an obvious target. The more time you spent debating, frozen in your tracks, the closer it got. Although completely silent like a first class predator, his unbelieveable ferocity was travelling faster than his body. The atmosphere was soaked with it, danger waiting for you at every step. Even though you wanted to move, your body wouldn't listen. His presence alone was already overwhelming, filling the entire space with tension that was crushing you.

Your eyes windened, irises shaking in distress when you saw four red points gleaming in the darkness in front of you. Nothing more, nothing less than four small crimson circles. It was enough to trigger a response in you and your feet darted in the opposite direction, running faster than you ever imagined you could. Your heartbeat was once again hectic, your hands pushing branches and plants out of your way. You were gasping for air but there was no way you could stop. Your robe got caught in a thick bush and you pulled it forcefully, ripping it only to free yourself. He was near, almost one step behind you. He was purposefully being loud, branches cracking under his feet, his steps shaking the ground he was walking on. He wanted you to know he was there, close, maybe only one arm's length away from grabbing you by the neck.

The forest was a neverending abyss. You couldn't even tell what direction you were running in. Maybe you were heading back to the manor. Maybe you were sinking even deeper into the wild. All that you knew was that you were running away from him.

You cried out in pain when you fell on your knees, tripping. A guttural, animalic sound that was so foreign to you, almost impossible to believe that it came out of your body. You quickly turned around on the ground, trying to find out where he was. Cold sweat was running down your back and you were panting, half because of effort, half because of terror. Your knees were bruised. Your hair unkempt. Your robe torn at the hems. Yet, he was nowhere to be seen. His absence was alarming. You couldn't even see him coming, couldn't anticipate where you should run. You felt your robe soaked around your outer thigh, the wet sensation tingling your skin. You looked up, thinking it had started raining, although there was no sound of raindrops hitting the ground.

And you saw him.

In the tree above you, standing on a thick branch. The mouth on his abdomen was fully manifested, the tongue poking out above the knot tied around his waist, thick saliva oozing down, dripping on you. You felt choked, deprived of air, although he was at a fair distance from you. Sukuna hopped down, landing right in front of you with a sound so loud and earth-shaking it resembled thunder. You tried crawling back, heels slipping on the grass under you. For every three frantic movements of your limbs he took one calm step, closing in the distance.

"Get away from me!" Your voice sounded threatening, although you were in no position to.

The strength in your legs was almost used up. You didn't think you could stand up, not to mention do it fast enough to escape him.

He ignored you, taking another step. It seemed like there were two beasts inside him: the calm, calculated hunter that chased and cornered you and the savage, famished creature that showed through his abdomen, salivating at your sight.

In a split moment he was leaning over you, his massive frame caging you against the ground, teeth sinking in your neck. Your artery pulsated under your skin, full of fresh blood running frantically. You found the force to kick his legs, trying to get him off you, but he wouldn't budge. All of his four arms were supporting his body above yours, two on each side of your struggling form. You could hear his feral breath right under your ear. You screamed and hit him as hard as you could, to no avail. The tongue on his abdomen ran over your skin, spreading its spit all over your tummy and your core. When its tip creeped between your legs, tasting your juices, he groaned like a famished animal that was finally getting his long deserved meal. It took a lot of effort not to submit to his touch, like you usually did. Instead, your mouth kept screaming curses at his name, begging for help in the middle of an empty forest where he was king. Two of his hands held your body in place, one kneading your soft breast while the other held you by the hip, his nails painfully digging in your skin, the muscles of his arms flexed in the effort of holding you in place.

You managed to grab his hair, pulling as tightly as you could to get his face away from your neck, where he was already leaving marks. One arm was sufficient for him to support his body, his knees already forcing your thighs spread apart on the ground. So he used the fourth hand to pull yours away from his hair. He caught your other wrist in his grip as well, pushing your arms above your head so you wouldn't defy him anymore.

"Let me go!" You shrieked, your arms aching because of his forceful grip. With every moment his teeth sank into a new spot on your neck you expected him to rip your flesh off your bones, that's how exhilarated he seemed to consume you. Something about you neck, the back of your ear, your tangled dirty hair, it seemed to have a particular smell that was getting him off because he kept sniffing and licking the area like a wild animal. "No!" You howled, your legs fighting to stay closed while the large tongue moved between your folds, wet and warm, sending a numbing pleasure all through your body.

You had never made Sukuna lose his self control like this before. The way you were fighting under him awakened the animal inside, his senses sharper than ever. Your cries were music to his ears. Your kicks were only encouraging him to hold you down even more. But most of all, your smell, your raw intoxicating smell, it was irresistible. Not altered by any artificial fragrance, not washed away by any water. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, where it was the strongest, and he was aiming to get you sweating all of it out of your body. Perhaps this blinding obsession was the reason he lost focus because, when you unexpectedly kicked your knee at the corner of his large abdomen mouth he growled in pain, grip losening on your body.

You took this chance to slide away, driven by adrenaline alone. It seemed that your instincts had unlocked a primal power inside of you, because you never even dared to hope that you could hurt the beast that Sukuna was. You were almost on your feet again, supporting your body on your arms to force it stand up when his hand grabbed your hair harshly and you fell back on the ground on all fours. You howled in pain like a wounded animal as he pulled you by the hair, forcing your back to arch.

"You have nowhere to run." He spoke for the first time as he leaned over your body, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar.

Your scream echoed in the entire forest when one of his cocks penetrated you, losing no time to adjust. But you didn't scream because of pain. There was no pain to feel when you were so wet, so prepared for him as he slipped inside you so easily, your walls tightening around his length in a welcoming feeling. His thrusts were fast and harsh from the start, the knot of pleasure tightening in your belly immediately. His other cock was rubbing between your ass cheeks as he forced himself into you in a frenzy, grunting and growling in the lowest, most savage voice that seemed to come straight from the depths of hell. Your cries turned to moans of pleasure, your body shaking according to his rhythm, your muscles tensed in anticipation for your orgasm. You couldn't fight against him anymore in that position, when he was fucking you like a wild animal.

You yelped in pain when he forced his other cock inside your walls, stretching you forcefully, knowing you could take all of him. You had to take all of him. Tears ran down your cheeks as your eyes were shut tightly, the only thing you could focus on being his two massive cocks inside your dripping wet cunt, abusing it relentlessly. He had both your hands behind your back, using you like a lifeless rag doll. In a seemingly kind gesture, his hand caressed your cheek, a mouth opening in his palm to wipe away your tears, only to press agains your mouth, silencing you. The tongue forced itself into your mouth, circling along with your own tongue. He could force your body to bend as much as he pleased, pulling your arms further back and pressing his hand tighter against your mouth, hitting your sweet spot over and over and over, even if it meant breaking you in half.

The sounds of his hips slamming against yours echoed in the dark forest, your muffled cries and his hysterical growls warning everything and everyone to stay away. The two arms that had been keeping your hips in place wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling your back straigth against his torso, this new angle allowing him to reach new, untouched spots inside of you. The tongue retreated from your mouth, leaving you a drooling mess, unable to protest anymore, and moved lower to suck on your nipples. Your head was bouncing against his chest as he thrusted into you, and you could almost hear the unnaturally fast pace of his heartbeat. Your hands found two of his wrists, fingers wrapping weakly around them, pressing his touch even more against your body.

His head dipped into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath of your intoxicating smell before biting your ealobe.

"You could have ended this already." He growled into your ear, thrilled by your body's eager response to him. Your hands were desperately clinging to him, your smell so attractive and obsessive pulling him in, your cunt tightening around his cocks, taking him so well. His thrusts were getting sloppier and slower, but nowhere near weaker. "But you love it when I hunt you down and take you like an animal." You gasped with every swift and deep thrust. "Look." He said, and when he noticed your eyes wouldn't open, he growled the command in your ear again. "Look." His hand forced your head down. "Look how well you're taking me." Another hand moved to press against your navel. Right below it, a bulge was swelling round and disappearing under your skin as his cocks pushed in and out of you. You couldn't articulate any words in response. Instead, your head fell back against his chest, eyes shut tightly, feeling your orgasm approaching. Your whole body felt tight, muscles tensed. He was manhandling you with ease, two arms around each thigh keepibg the m apart, the other two around your upper body, knees hovering over the ground. One of his hands moved to make sure you would be reaching your high along with him, only the tips of his fingers barely touching your sensitive bud of nerves enough to have you whimpering even louder.

The feeling of thick ropes of cum inside you came at the same time with your orgasm. You weakly protested when he still thrusted inside you, slower, making sure his seed stays inside, although it was so much that it was spilling out and dripping over his balls and on the ground. He let you go, at last, the moment he completely pulled out of you echoing with a loud pop! in the empty forest. He had you so stretched, so fucked out, semen still dripping out of your hole as he laid you down on the grass.

You were panting and shivering, your heartbeat still beating insanely fast. But your whole body was relaxing, almost melting into the ground. The feeling of the soft grass blanket under your naked body, cooling your heat, and the humind air cleaning out your mind were truly soothing. For a moment, you almost forgot Sukuna was still there, your mind blank. The sound of raindrops hitting the tree leaves pulled you out of your haze. You were cold. As you turned around on your back you noticed Sukuna sitting next to you, with his robe messily put back on, his body towering above yours to shield you from the rain.

He seemed to have awakened from his frenzy too, because there was no sight of the thirsty creature that chased you. Instead, he was inspecting your body, evaluating his success on the hunt.

His piercing eyes made you snap back to reality and you became very aware of the fact that you were naked. You curled on the ground, unconsciously, arms covering your breasts, trying to be as small as you could.

"What are you so modest for now?" He almost scolded you, his voice back to the usual tone you knew. However, he wrapped you in the remnants of the torn robe you had on when he found you, right before ripping it off. You didn't even remember when that happened.

"T-thank you." You said, pulling the fabric over your shoulder. He picked you up with his two upper arms and you wrapped yours around his neck for support. It felt almost like the end of an unusuap sacrificial ritual, when the ancient priest would offer the dead lamb to a god. Except you were not dead and he was the god. Maybe this is how it happened on the other side, the immortal soul of the sacrificial lamb being welcomed among-

"Are you asleep?" Sukuna asked. The natural sounds of the forest were filling your ears now that the danger was gone. "You'll catch a cold."

"N-no. I was just resting my eyes." You shivered when his face kept touching yours, his nose sniffing at your neck and hair as he walked you out of the forest. You were dirty, of course you were, and sweaty and wet with all filthy fluids.

"Hm. Strange." He concluded. "It's gone."

You didn't have the energy to ask any more questions. Besides, he seemed to be talking to himself. You could feel your body warm up again against his. Soon, you were out of the forest, heading back to the manor.

《previous: Corruption | next》: Ascension |

Geto Suguru x reader True Form! Sukuna x reader

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna smut #true form sukuna #true form sukuna smut #jjk #sukuna jjk #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #sukuna imagine

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dark-and-kawaii · 10 months

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༺ 𝒯𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝓇𝓊𝒾𝒹 ༻

You’re one of the Druids from the grove, captivated by the tieflings you decide to wild-shape into a cat in order to get closer to them. It’s all going smoothly until one night you lose control of your magic and you return to your humanoid form.

- These are all separate scenarios

Dammon - Rolan - Zevlor - PRT 2 (Click Here)

-𝒟𝒶𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓃-

Unbeknownst to Dammon, you, one of the druids, observed him quietly from afar. At first you were drawn to his breathtaking blue eyes, but as time passed you became drawn to not only his strength, but his dedication to his craft. You longed for a way to connect with him, but if any of the others were to catch you, especially Kagha… There would be hell to pay, and it wouldn’t be you paying for it, no, it would be Dammon. Determined to get closer to him, you devised a plan. Using your wild shape you transformed yourself into a sleek and agile feline, complete with a delicate pink ribbon around your neck.

Under the guise of a cat, you started visiting Dammon at his forging station. Of course, Dammon noticed you, a peculiar feline with a pink bow wrapped around their neck as you appeared at his forging station. “Hello there,” Dammon held his hand out to you waiting for a sign that it was okay to give you a gentle pet, “Are you lost little girl?” You rubbed your head against the palm of his hand, your eyes closed and your tail pointed up. He softly laughed, “Well then, I guess I don't mind the company. Stay as long as you’d like.” Ripping up what little he had left of his meat, he gave it to you before continuing his work.

As the days went on, Dammon would awaken to find you perched on the wooden barrel next to his bedroll or curled up next to the dancing flames of his forge. While he hammered away at his steel you would watch him with an intensity that seemed to mirror his own passion for his craft. Dammon couldn't help but notice how you watched him intently as he worked, curiously, he could have sworn he saw a hint of blush on your tiny furry cheeks whenever he lifted his shirt, exposing his glistening chest as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead.

Dammon chuckled, "Are you sure you're just a cat?" Still dazed for a moment, your feline eyes wide and ears back as you stared at him finally shook your head and responded with nothing but an innocent meow. Being a cat it wasn’t hard for you to distract him allowing your more playful side to shine through as you attempted to pounce on the tip of his tail. Succeeding in distraction, you found it heartwarming to see it brought another smile to his face. He even lifted his tail allowing you to jump at it. You didn’t know it, but Dammon cherished all these lighthearted interactions. Every single time he saw you he’d think to himself that It’s been a while since he’s awoken looking forward to something.

Your bond with him grew as the tieflings continued their stay at the grove. You began to rub your small frame against Dammon's leg and received gentle pats on your head in exchange. Soon, Dammon would come to find you sleeping at his side at night or comfortably perched above his head on his pillow. Each night he’d find himself sleeping with a smile on his face and again, he swore he could see the feline doing the same.

Soon you’d find the right time to tell him the truth about you, but for now you only wished to bask in his warmth, content with where things were at the time.

However, fate had other plans for you, something went awry. One night as you were curled atop Dammon's chest your wild shape dropped by accident while lost in a peaceful slumber… In the late night as you shifted back to your humanoid form, Dammon awoke, feeling an unexpected weight upon his chest. As his vibrant eyes opened, he was greeted with a surprise.

There, nestled atop of him, lay one of the druids, you, with the same pink bow his feline friend had worn. Your head was tucked into him, breathing gently as you continued your blissful sleep. Dammon, startled yet calm, couldn't help but blush at the sight before him, you were absolutely stunning… And, and very nude. Quickly, Dammon pulled the sheets over your figure, wanting to protect your modesty. With softened eyes, Dammon couldn’t stop himself from stroking the top of your head, "Thank you". Overwhelmed with emotions, he wrapped his arms and tail around you, holding you gently, and closed his eyes, content to share this intimate moment with you and hopefully more to come.

-𝑅𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓃-

You felt bad for the tieflings, no one deserves to be treated this way. Your people were acting out which wasn’t usually like them, wasn't like most of them anyway… Granted you’d never seen one in person until now, but still, they were no devils. Wanting to get closer to them you decided to wild shape in the form of a cat to observe and understand the tielfings better. One caught your attention right away, his name Rolan according to the two others standing beside him, arguing. This tiefling frequented sour moods so you decided to get closer to him best you could and extend a helping paw.

The moment you came around him and his siblings, Rolan was skeptical and guarded, he’d never seen a cat like you around before, but now all of a sudden you show up. He waves his foot in front of you dismissing your attempts to befriend him, “Shoo! Scram you damn beast.”

His sister, Lia, interjected, urging him, “Rolan! Be kind! It’s just a harmless cat” You sat on your tail, shaking your shoulders as you held your head high as if agreeing with his sister. Rolan scrunches his face, scoffing, “What if it’s one of the druids? We can’t be careless, Lia!”

Lia countered, “All the more reason to be kind.”

As the days moved forward, so did your attempts. Each time you fussed over Rolan, a spark of irritation would flash in his eyes. Whenever you strove to rub yourself against his leg he’d lightly push you back or move it before you could, which caused you to face plant into the ground… And whenever you tried to jump at his tail he’d hastily pull it away from you, squinting at you with disgust, “As if I'd allow you to touch me,” Your furry cheeks puffed out as you let out your own scoff for once, “I've got my eyes on you, cat.”

However, Rolan couldn't deny that each spark of irritation was beginning to flicker less and less. With each passing day, your feline antics became almost endearing. The sight of the pink-ribboned cat became a constant in his life and surprisingly, he found he was beginning to enjoy your feline company.

"Why are you so persistent?" he asked you one day, wondering if he’d get an answer back, but you only purred, weaving yourself between his legs instead of answering him with words.

Rolan found himself developing an odd friendship with you. He found that your presence alleviated his stress and provided comfort, something he hadn’t realized he craved.

One night, under the blanket of stars, Rolan sat on a log outside the grove, his lips vocalizing his thoughts aloud, “I should have left this place already. Staying any longer would be a mistake!” Registering his tone, your ears pushed back, but still you continued to approach him. Maybe there was something you could do to ease his mind.

Hopping onto his lap you softly nudge your head against his chest purring as your tail flicked up and glided across his chin before finding peace on his lap. Sighing, he looked down at you, “Even if you are one of the druids,” he murmured, scratching behind one of your ears, “You don’t seem like the rest. Perhaps I wouldn’t mind your company.”

For all you know you had let your guard down, hell maybe it was because him scratching your ear felt so good, or maybe this was Silvanus nudging things forward… But you instantaneously transformed back to your humanoid self, naked and sitting on the tieflings lap…

Instinctively, Rolan grasped your hips to prevent you from falling, his infernal cheeks darkening at the sight of you. Your own face flushed with embarrassment, swiftly trying to cover yourself.

“R-Rolan! I-I didn’t mean. I didn’t mean for this to happen! I- i lost control and i- i… I’m so sorry!” You bowed your head, far too frozen to move off him from shock that this happened. You were thankful to the oak father that it was only the two of you out here though.

As the initial shock subsided, "I knew there was something peculiar about you," he growls, his grip loosening from your hips.

You reveal your name just as Rolan is about to release you to slip off his lap, “I didn’t mean to scare you! I- I originally just wanted to help ease your mind while you were here, and then i grew-” You looked away from him, “I grew to appreciate your company, i didn’t want to ever leave your side.”

Rolan’s gaze softened, and he found himself lost in your eyes as you looked to the side. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t some kind of connection between the two of you now. With a hint of a smile, Rolan reassured you, “Not scared, nor surprised really,” He carefully released his hands from your hips so he could conjure up a robe for you. Slipping it over your shoulders, Rolan covers you, “I suppose I did say I wouldn't mind your company, no reason to change that now. Besides, I can’t wait to stick it in Lia and Cal’s face that I was right about you.”

-𝒵𝑒𝓋𝓁𝑜𝓇-

Zevlor was engrossed in a map of the lands until movement caught his attention. Looking up from his stone desk his eyes met with a beautiful cat with a pink bow wrapped delicately around its neck. Its silky black fur glistened from the sun that poked through the cracks of the cave and the dimly lit candles, and its vibrant green eyes gleamed with an intelligence that surpassed that of an ordinary feline.

“Greetings, and just who might you be?” As he approaches, the feline gazes up at him with a longing in its eyes, as if seeking companionship.

Unbeknownst to the tiefling, this cat was not an ordinary feline but rather you, a Druid who had admired him since his arrival at the grove. Enchanted by Zevlor's purity of heart, you had taken on the form of a cat to get closer to him, to experience the warmth of his touch and be near him.

You gracefully hopped onto Zevlor's stone desk, emitting a subtle meow as though inviting him into your world. Zevlor's heart had softened as he extended his hand and gently stroked your furry head… You closed your feline eyes, basking in the touch of his kind hand. Your very own warmth against his hand, a gentle caress to his troubled soul.

As the days passed, you became a constant visitor in Zevlor's cave. You would lie on the stone desk, your head occasionally tilting in apparent fascination as Zevlor read over his books and maps. It always made him feel as if you were reading alongside him, sharing in his knowledge. In the evenings, you would curl up on his lap, purring in contentment, easing the weight of his isolation.

Then came the night that changed everything. While nestled at his side as you both slept soundly you had dropped your disguise on accident leaving you vulnerable to his eyes when he woke.

In the middle of the night Zevlor had finally stirred from his deep sleep, immediately he sensed a weight of warmth permeating his being, a sensation that had long been forgotten. When Zevlor’s eyes finally opened, he found himself face to face with a breathtaking view, you.

A stunned silence befell Zevlor as he connected the dots, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Tracing his fingers gently over the pink bow, careful not to wake you, the beautiful Druid who laid next to him was the same creature who kept him company during his lonely nights. The one he had affectionately named Blossom due to your pink bow, Zevlor had petted it countless of times as you purred under his touch…

Despite being as careful as he could, Zevlor had caused you to awaken. Blinking your eyes awake you lean your head up to look at him, a smile creeping on your lips as you stretch out to him… Only it isn’t paws you come to see but rather your actual hands… Your eyes grew wide and suddenly you’re looking at him with a face redder than even his skin. You sit up in a panic and as you sit up in his bedroll his thin blanket glides off your body revealing that you’re in the nude. Cheeks burning with embarrassment and a trace of fear in your eyes, you scramble to cover yourself with the thin blanket.

It all happened within a matter of seconds and despite looking away as fast as he could to ease your embarrassment, Zevlor did in fact catch a glimpse at what happened… He swore he would have a heart attack with how fast his heart was beating.

"I-i I’m so sorry! I can explain..." You began, your gaze not being able to look at him.

Zevlor simply shook his head, cutting you off. "There’s no need, I owe you my thanks.”

You don’t know why you were so surprised, you knew this man was the embodiment of kindness, but still, you felt terrible for this. "I… I didn't mean for you to find out this way..." You admitted, clutching the blanket close to your chest.

“I understand. But, I’m grateful to you. For keeping me company all this time.” Zevlor offered you a comforting smile, “If I may?” He reached over grabbing the only spare shirt he had and offered it to you.

Touched by his understanding and warmth, you accepted the shirt with a shy smile and pulled it over your head, "Thank you, Zevlor," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude, “Would it be okay if I stayed just a bit longer?” You rubbed your arm, comforting yourself in case he said no. But luckily, Zevlor nodded, “I’ll leave you to the bedroll, I’ll sit at my desk.” He was such a gentleman but, that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him here with you…

“C-could you stay here with me, please.”

He had an internal battle with himself, he wanted to be close to you, to feel your warmth against his body, but would that really be okay? But when your gaze meets his, he couldn’t deny the way you looked at him, plus the pink bow… Zevlor could see you desperately wished for him to stay with you like the other nights.

“Of course," he replied, "I'd be honored to stay with you, my dear." He settled himself beside you, the heat of his body pressing against yours. You couldn't help but lean into him, craving the contact, the intimacy that awaited.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #dammon #rolan #zevlor #dammon x tav #rolan x tav #zevlor x tav #dammon bg3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 zevlor #tiefling #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #rolan x reader #dammon x reader #zevlor x reader

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taiyeoki · 8 months

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𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘? | 𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐎

↳ Kashimo + Reader

Genre . Smut

Warning . 🔞Minors do not interact | Contains breeding/impregnation, face fucking, nipple play, fingering, cancelled orgasm

Synopsis . Kashimo doesn't always show vulnerable emotions but when a man comes around fancying you, his wife, that wall comes crashing down with the simplest jealousy. Now he just wants to fuck you till tomorrow. Maybe putting a baby in you will make sure you're his.

A/N . This was supposed to be finished way sooner but I got too caught up with some other work, causing me to sleep at 4-5am for weeks straight and it physically affected me so I got body ache and inflammation. Turns out I got covid. And then afterwards, which is currently, I'm focusing a lot on art lmao.

You had no plans today but to lay around on the couch all day long. Kashimo didn't mind since he's used to the woman staying at home during his time period anyway. The only difference now though is that you weren't even doing any chores. He never forced you to do them though, but seeing you sprawled out on the couch with a bag of chips next to you had him pushing you to get up.

Which is why you were here now, going into stores around the city. No way is Kashimo Hajime going to let his wife laze around all day. He cared about his wife's wellbeing and he knew the negative effects of being cooped up at home. However, this time he wasn't one bit pleased at all. He just regrets taking you out in the first place.

Your husband held a scowl on his face. He always looked fierce to begin with but this was different. You could feel his stare boring holes into the back of your head.

Going to the counter to order takeaways, the cashier held a rather innocent looking expression. The bright smile and friendly service wasn't fooling Kashimo though. He knew the cash register's true intentions weren't just to serve you.

"That'll be $15.70 ma'am," the man's smile widened in an attempt to be 'friendly'. It felt so disgustingly fake to your husband though. You replied with a polite "thank you," as you took your food, smiling in return but Kashimo saw how he purposely brushed his hand onto yours when serving you your order. He knew that you were too kind for your own good so it wasn't your fault for reciprocating the polite gesture but it pissed him off how anyone would try to fancy his wife.

Unfortunately for him, the cashier initiated a little conversation with you.

"I hope you enjoy your food. You've got great taste based on what you ordered. As expected from a woman such as yourself," his eyes darkened with intent staring at your frame, the smile he held wasn't going to fool Kashimo though.

"Do you come here often? I would love to help serve you again," his tongue darts out to lick his lips, almost as if he's moistening his lips to prolong more conversation.

"Oh, thank you. I guess I'm starting to become a usual customer here huh?" Chuckling, you replied noticing that you do come here more often than you think, appreciative of his kind offer.

"Great! That gives me even more reason to come to work," he laughs a bit at his joke but keeps his eyes on you. It was even more apparent now that he's leaning closer to you, close enough that he could take in your sweet scent which was supposed to be reserved for Kashimo only.

"Aren't you here to do your job? Or are you being paid to flirt with customers?" A smooth, velvety voice cuts in. Kashimo swiftly moves in front of you before you can pay for the food. He wasn't going to let this man touch you a second time, dropping the cash on the cashier's hands without even an inch of being near him so he wouldn't have to touch this 'thing'.

"T-thank you. You must be—"

"Her husband," Kashimo scoffed, a smug smile tugged on his lips handsomely. His agile movements snaked his arms around your waist, wrapping you right next to him to show who exactly you belong to.

Kashimo's presence only made the man look smaller than he was with your husband's dominating height towering over him. At least he wasn't dumb knowing how much more muscular your husband is compared to the guy working behind the counter trying to flirt with a married woman. His eyes zero in on Kashimo's strong hold on the small of your back and it was clear how possessive he got. You aren't bothered, leaning into Kashimo to envelope yourself in his comforting scent. The sight only made the man nervous with fear. He knew you were taken seeing from the beautiful blue ring that decorated your soft finger, both you and Kashimo having matching rings. Just by the looks of it he could tell how expensive it must've been and yet he still had the confidence to try and sway you— right in front of your husband too, who surely made more money than him with his part-time cashier job.

"Come on hun, let's go," Kashimo glances softly at you and his tone is gentle. Much different compared to this stranger who's just grateful that your husband decided to stay civil for the sake of his wife. He wears the look of horror when Kashimo turns around to face him once more.

"We'll be leaving now. I wouldn't expect a guy like you to be keeping their job for long if this is how you work."

Arriving home only meant that you had to deal with the little ordeal that happened, inquiring Kashimo about it. "What was that about? You didn't have to be rude you know."

Your beloved husband only scoffed when you reminded him of what happened. Seeing the sour expression on his face told you how annoyed he was, plus the deep scowl on his lips presented how pissed he was too. He pushes you against the kitchen counter, caging you between his strong arms as his lips latch onto your neck, kissing aggressively. You whine softly from how rough he's being, sucking on your supple skin creating hickeys everywhere while your fingers intertwine with his cyan locks. Your breaths are labored, he knows your body better than you do. He knows your sweet spots and your favourite positions, how you like it done and the perfect pace to do it.

Letting go, his saliva connects to your now bruised skin and he admires it.

"Pretty little mark. Should give you more don't you think?"

"Hajime, were you jealous?" You teased, giggling but your smirk is taken away when you feel his rough hand unclasp your bra, the other pulling your shirt up right above your breasts. Your sensitive skin exposed to the cold air causes your nipples to harden more than it needs to. Seeing this has blood rushing down to his cock as he flicks and tugs on your erect nipple, twisting it with the perfect pressure of his thumb and playing with your tits. Your head tips back with a moan, holding onto the kitchen counter for support while your husband ravages your body as he please.

Suddenly you feel his hot breath against your sensitive mounds. His lips wrap around your hardened nipple, sucking sensually producing lewd sounds from the wetness of your skin. His right hand continues to give attention to your left breast while he sucks on the other. You could feel Kashimo's calloused hand massaging your chest, the roughness of his thumb causing more friction against you as he twists and presses your nipple. God— his hands are too good. The man is skilled in pleasing you, he knows the perfect amount of pressure needed to have you over the edge.

Kashimo's free hand pushes your panties down, rubbing your already wet folds to get you prepped. He pushes a prodding finger against your walls, curling his finger just enough to hit the right spot. The sensation of his long finger abusing your sweet spot while his thumb circles your clit has you instinctively opening your legs further for more. Both his hands working you and his mouth sucking and lapping on your erect mounds already has you feeling like you're about to explode.

Your thighs shook in excitement as Kashimo's fingers slid inside of your already drenched cunt, and you moaned loudly, fingers scraping on the table under you with how your body is attacked by all this pleasure. Kashimo could feel your walls tighten around his digits. He knew whenever you needed to cum but as cruel as he is, Kashimo removes himself from your pussy, walls aching to release the familiar buildup in your abdomen.

You whined from the loss of sensation, feeling empty without him. "Hajime, why'd you st—"

He cuts you off, putting his pussy drenched finger inside of your mouth. "Lick it clean," His smooth, husky voice demanded. You couldn't deny how that turned you on more, sucking and lapping on your own juices off of his finger, making erotic sounds from it.

"There you go, see? Not so hard being a good little slut now right?"

He was enjoying the sight of your pretty lips wrapping his fingers, tasting yourself from it. Now his head was full of perverted thoughts on how you would look if you had your lips wrap his dick instead. If he had you sucking and choking on his fat cock.

Kashimo removes his finger from your mouth, too impatient to have you gagging on his dick. He kept his cyan eyes down on you while he licked his own fingers clean and it made you feel small and honestly inferior, submissive to him.

"Kneel down."

He had a mix of dominance and lust, greed hinted at the edge of his voice. You did as he said, kneeling down for your knees to take the weight while your face is in front of his crotch. Kashimo cupped his hand around the growing tent of his pants, rubbing it as his veins throbbed from the blood rushing south to his erection. "Go on. You know what to do," Kashimo had a smug smirk decorating his lips, eyeing down on you in front of him.

You gulped knowing what he wanted, the thought of his dick springing out of its restraints has you dripping wetter than before. Your hands pulled down on his pants slowly, earning a grunt from him at how you were taking your time in this. "Shit hun, stop teasing already," he grabbed a fistful of your hair and you moaned softly from how good it felt, forcing you to do as he say, rushing you more. Kashimo's left with his boxers on but you wanted to prolong your teasing. The tip of your tongue lapped at his clothed bulge leaving a damp spot, receiving labored breaths of sigh from him.

You continued your ministrations, licking his clothed shaft with the tip of your tongue like a needy slut until you yelped when he gently yanked on your hair, "what'd I say about teasing huh?" Your little fun of taking control was instantly stripped away when he forced you to stop. Pulling down the last of his restraints, his thick cock sprung out, tip leaking with precum.

Scrambling on your knees obediently, humiliation washed over you with your husband still gently grasping your hair. Kashimo's fingertip taps on his cock, smearing the pre-cum around the tip and then on your face.

"Pretty face would look better with my cock fucking into your mouth yeah?" He muses, moist tip rubbing up against your soft lips wanting to enter and just violate your face. You're practically drooling, tongue sticking out and he places his shaft flat onto it. You drag your tongue underneath him in a long and slow pace earning a low moan.

Your husband smoothly slides in his cock deep into your mouth, unprepared by his size even though you've already been married for years. You gagged a bit before adjusting to his length, drooling a bit onto his shaft and gripping on his thigh. His cock pushes through your lips, hitting the back of your throat while you try to breathe through your nose.

"Y'know you pissed me off. Just wanted to make me jealous huh?"

You couldn't respond. Cock deep in your mouth, you could only muffle in denial. It was true though, you didn't mean to make him jealous. What started off with you teasing him about it turned into him face fucking you. His smoothly styled cyan hair falls out of place, bangs sticking onto his face from the sweat forming on his forehead and his buns turning messy.

"Shouldn't my wife apologize? Use your big girl words and say you're sorry," the room resonates with his groans, his girth making it hard to breathe as you try and say sorry.

"Mmph- soh-wee—"

It was all you could say after all with a meaty cock in your mouth, nose brushing against his hair as he keeps you in place with the firm grip he has on your locks. A sadistic smirk curled onto Kashimo's lips as he watches, beginning to quicken up the pace. You hate and love how determined Kashimo is, once he sets his goal on something he'll do whatever it takes to achieve it. At this moment though, he's determined to have his wife deepthroating him.

The friction of each thrust has his dick tattooed in a darker red, grunting at the wet cave that's going to send him to heaven. His movements get sloppier and grow desperate, balls slapping against your chin with each thrust.

"Ah�� fuck!" With a final thrust he spurts all his cum down your throat, pushing you right against him to keep you in place as his little cumdump and making sure to leave none behind. "Swallow," he demands, hot seed slides down your throat as you try and swallow while his dick is still in your mouth.

With a huff, Kashimo lets go of your abused throat to let you breathe. Gasping for air, your hand rubs your sore neck but you could see how his dick still stays standing despite how satisfied he was with jizzing in his wife's mouth.

Looking up at him, your husband's lips held the seductive smirk, palming on his wet, still-hard cock in front of you. Standing on his full height, he grabs your waist and pulls you up, laying your belly side on the kitchen counter behind you.

"You want this? Your pussy's drooling for my cock but you're not speaking clearly enough. I'm gonna need my little slut to speak. We can't have my wife suffering now can we?"

"Please.." you pleaded, his firm hand spanks your ass receiving a whine.

"Cute."

Kashimo slides inside with ease from how wet you were from your cancelled orgasm, cock stretching out your plush walls as your thighs shook in excitement. Moaning against your sleeve, you start fucking yourself on his dick. Kashimo doesn't hesitate in helping you, picking up the pace and fucking hard into your drenched cunt. You could feel every inch of his dick, pussy memorizing every pretty vein on him, how it feels like you two were made just for each other while his tip easily abuses your sensitive spot.

Your body glistens with sweat, shoulders littered with hickeys with Kashimo leaving bite marks on you, his teeth biting on your skin just hard enough to draw out pleasure without hurting you. You moaned as his fingers rubbed your clit in circles

Kashimo gets the perfect view of where your bodies are connected, every thrust from your squelching cunt creating a white ring of both your arousals. Your trembling legs were proof of how much you were enjoying it, toes curling and fingers gripping the smooth surface of the table with a muffled squeal.

"Fuck- gonna cum inside, gonna make you pregnant,"

He claws against your waist, the euphoria of him filling you up while your hardened nipples rubbed against the counter from each thrust's friction. Your mouth hung open but no noises escaped your pretty swollen lips. Kashimo loved the idea that his cock was making you feel so good that your brain couldn't even react to it all the while his tip kisses your womb with every push, hitting you in your fucked-out state.

"Can't even speak now? Wanna be a mommy huh? You like that idea?"

You tried reaching back to grab his arm, whimpering to signal that you were about to cum with the familiar coil tightening in your abdomen. Your husband leans down to give you kisses though they were more possessive than caring, giving sloppy french kisses with more tongue than lips. The sweat forming at your skin caused you to slide against the counter with every thrust, trying to grab on to anything for support.

The thought of your belly round with a baby and your fuller breasts being sensitive was enough for Kashimo to cum.

Teeth sinking into your neck to muffle his groans, his hot cum spilled inside of you making sure to paint every inch of your walls white. Spurts of his load fills your belly and he stays there cockwarming until it softens, pulling out.

Your husband's digits went down to spread your lower lips, watching how his cum oozed out of you. He curls his fingers to scoop up his orgasm and pushes it back into you, making sure his beloved wife is full of his hot seed.

"Hajime—"

"Sorry hun, I got too rough didn't I? I was just jealous but I'll make it up to you. I just love you so much," he plants a tender kiss on your back, massaging your sore hips.

Giggling at how he peppers soft kisses all over you, you reassure him. "It's okay, I had fun."

Chuckling, Kashimo nuzzles into your neck, still rubbing your sore flesh and promising to give you a full body massage.

"But hey, you'll make me such a happy daddy."

#kashimo #kashimo hajime #hajime kashimo #jjk kashimo #kashimo x reader #kashimo x y/n #jjk men #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #smut

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milky-aeons · 6 months

Text

— FLY AWAY WITH ME

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and ranpo edogawa; what their honeymoon would be like.

warnings: marriage, female reader, wife reader, sexual content for dazai, kunikida and chuuya, mentions of death, bondage, swearing, mentions of vomiting, alcohol intake, mdni, w.c 4.2k

𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

To honeymoon after one's wedding was not as practiced in Japan as it was the western world — however, Dazai, of course, jumped at any opportunity to slack off from work. A week away from the city with his newly married wife sounded right up the agent's alley.

And when Dazai Osamu was given an inch, he always strove to take a mile.

"Kunikida-kun is going to kill you when we get back, Dazai." You scolded your husband sitting at your side. But when you turned to him, attempting to pin him down with a look, you just couldn't help the sides of your lips curling into a smile. "Like — actually kill you, this time."

Dazai rolled his head, humming a musical sound. "To have my life ended under the cold, bony hands of an Idealist. How could you even speak those words, my love?"

"Only you would find a way to convince the President that a week away in Okinawa would be good for two of his agents. Paid all inclusively, too. What did you call it?" You quirked an eyebrow. "Sand resistance and underwater training?"

The briny sea air teased at his loose shirt and wild, unkempt curls, making him look like a divinity — a mythical creature of the ocean. Both of you sat side by side on the coast's cool sands; sipping from a bottle of sake, watching the sunset bleed the sky into twilight. After spending the day full of adventurous activities; wandering nature trails, stopping for a late-afternoon lunch under the canopy of marine trees, only to take each other by the hand and venture through the Churaumi aquarium's glass blue halls — you both had been content to cuddle up and watch the stars, that evening. Listening to the lull of the sea, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Dazai cocked his head in that funny little way he always did. "Is that not what we're doing?"

"Of course," You agreed, and then leaned over to poke the tip of his nose. His surprised little blink almost had your heart melting into a puddle. "And tomorrow, I expect you up bright and early, because we have an extra strenuous day of whale watching to attend."

Dazai leaned in, as if you were both sharing a secret, and touched his warm forehead against yours. It made your pulse flutter; the shade of his eyes, so complex when he was this close. They softened into something a lot more sultry. "Hmm? Whale watching? I was under the impression our schedule was already taken up tomorrow, though."

"Oh?" You smiled, your breath mingling. "Do divulge me, Osamu."

That was when he went for you. Pouncing with the agility of a leopard, a beast, until he had pulled you against his lean body and you were both rolling around in the sand — shrieking and chuckling.

"I am to accompany my beautiful princess bride on a mission that could mean life or death! World dominion or forever peace! The very nature of things hangs in the balance and I have the key to it, right in my very hands!"

"Osamu—you're—!" You chortled. "Stop! You'll get sand in my ears!"

He brought your rolling bodies to a halt with you laying flush against him. There was mirth dancing in his eyes, his face — looking at you like he was a teenager in love for the very first time. He pouted playfully.

"You don't want to hear my master plan to save the world?"

"You just don't want to go whale watching."

"Hmm~" He purred, and you felt those long fingers begin to trail up your thighs — so sensitive, almost completely bare to him underneath the cotton beach skirt you wore. They drew languid, mind-numbing circles that traced a picture of fire from your thighs, the small back, your thighs again. You found yourself arching back instinctively into them.

Dazai craned his neck up then — just so he could trail his lips against the shell of your ear and whisper, "Because I am much more inclined to hear someone else moan for me all day, instead."

The last of his words were accompanied with his palms coming down on your ass, squeezing possessively — the shock of it lurching you forward a little. You gasped, and he revelled in it. You could see it in the way his tawny eyes darkened into a promising mahogany. Whenever Dazai looked at you like that, it eddied any and all coherent thoughts from your mind. Just like the first time you met him, the second, the millionth, you'd never tire from marvelling in your husband's beauty. Both on his gorgeous face and inside his well-protected soul.

You just had to peel back each and every layer he had learned to build up until you coaxed it out. But you would wait — for him, you would wait a lifetime.

Chuckling a heady sound, you leaned down, ghosting your lips over his parted ones. When he shifted up to try and connect your mouths together — you were mean. You pulled just out of his reach, grinning a wicked, vixen-like smile.

"All day?" You challenged. "But—oh—!"

A yelp tore from your throat when Dazai startled you by surging foreword and rolling until you were beneath him; trapped underneath his long, caging arms. His bangs tickled your face when he pitched forward to arrest you in his intense stare. Holding so much weight, so much promise, that it sent a thousand sparks of pleasure racing from the crown of your head right to the tips of your toes.

"Every day, my beautiful wife."

You didn't think either of you could wait until then.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 . . .

After the rather formal affair that was you and Kunikida Doppo's wedding; a honeymoon was far removed from your mind. So you were surprised, when your new husband approached you one morning, two long-distance train tickets held firmly in his grip. The ledgers are already taken care of, he had assured you when protests rose on your tongue, you needn't worry. There is enough staff to cover our absence.

There was something — something fiercely intense in his eyes when he had said those words, too. Of course, your husband Kunikida Doppo was a fierce man by nature; it was one of the many things you had learned to love about him. But then, you had been unable to place the heat in his eyes, the way his body strained towards you — as if holding some monstrous part of himself back.

You had been unable to place it — that was, until now.

His naked body stalked around the foot of the bed — soft, buttery light throwing all of his defined muscles into focus. The curtains of this private suite were decorated with cotton and cashmere, letting as much natural light into the room as possible while still offering you two some privacy. In fact, one of the drapes from your bathroom window were missing — but that was because it had been wound tightly around your wrists, pinning you to the headboard.

"One hundred and forty-five." Kunikida spoke suddenly.

Through your lust addled mind, you tried to parse his words. Your brows came down over confused eyes. "W-What?"

He stopped, snapping his Ideal book closed in one hand. And when he turned towards you — God, your tongue pasted to the roof of your mouth. He was marvellous. He was breath-taking — his blond hair let loose around his shoulders, the length of him standing stiff and erect for you to see.

"One hundred and forty-five," He repeated. The mattress dipped when he leaned one knee against it, then the other. "That is the amount of days which have passed since I had the first indecent thought about you."

He might as well already be touching you — the way those words instructed a shiver to race down your bare skin. Kunikida pitched forward so he was on all fours now — and with savouring slowness, he began to crawl towards you.

"O-Oh?" Was the only coherent thing you could get out. Your eyes darted all over him, you tried to rub your thighs together to garner some type of friction since he was so adamant to tease you. Kunikida's quick-silver eyes noticed the movement, however, and reached a large hand out. He flattened it on the bare skin of your thigh; a silent command for you to be still.

Frustrated, you levelled a heated glare at him, huffing, "This is no way to treat your new wife."

"Believe me," Kunikida's tone was controlled — always controlled, but you delighted in the fact that his lips twitched into a smile. "I have every intention of treating my wife very well, indeed."

Your breasts strained taut when he came to settle himself just over you and leaned up — bracketing your hips with those strong thighs. Ever since he had gotten your clothes off; Kunikida Doppo could not stop himself from just looking at you. An extremely controlling part of him was overcome with the mind-consuming urge to lock you up and keep you all for himself. But he knew he could not do that. So here he would revel, every moment he could, in you flushed and bare beneath him. Begging him with your eyes to touch you, to relieve that ache only he had caused.

Shit, Kunikida Doppo thought when he looked down at you, he'd pay only the finest artist to paint you like this. But then he'd have to rip their damn hand off.

He reached a hand out to trail it against your twitching tummy muscles. The hand which brandished that newly crafted gold band.

"It was exactly 11:48am, Tuesday the 7th," Kunikida murmured in a deep, throaty voice. His eyes glazed over as he trailed his fingers all over you — from your naval to your breastbone to letting them dance across the planes of your face. "When you walked into the main office with a large stack of reports a certain someone has been slackin' on. You bent over — in that tight little skirt you always wear," He inhaled, dragging your bottom lip gently with his thumb. "And I was overcome."

"O-Overcome?" You echoed. If he kept this up, you were very certain your new husband would make your heart burst out of your chest. You burned, you needed him like your air, like the blood roaring in your ears.

Kunikida leaned in close enough until he was all you could see. He dropped his voice, and the words rumbled out of his chest.

"Overcome with the need to bend you against the table and fuck you, right then and there."

A small whimper climbed up your throat. Like a butterfly, caught and pinned against a board, you fluttered restlessly beneath him. Kunikida placed the softest kisses against your skin; but you could feel the tension that tremored underneath his marble skin. He was taking his time. He was adamant to keep you here for as long as possible just to savour you, over and over again.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

"And now," You whispered, hot and needy, against him. "You have me right where you want me, Kunikida."

Your husband groaned and began to roll his hips against you — absolutely unable to help himself when you said those words. Gasping, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you were barely lucid enough to hear him growl out the words;

"And you'll always have me at your mercy, darling."

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 . . .

You and Atsushi had decided to get married under the gentle blossoms of springtime, but it had always been your dream to escape on a winter's honeymoon. Of course, when you broached the topic with him a couple of weeks before the ceremony, Atsushi took some time to gradually warm to the idea. He had never been out of the country, after all, and the thought of boarding a metal tube that soared thousands of feet in the air definitely did not appeal to his feline side.

"It's... so it doesn't stop off, somewhere?" He had asked you with those adorable wide eyes. "What if I need to pee?"

His country naivety was all too amusing to you — a warm grin brightened your face, and to stifle the chuckle, you buried into his silver hair, instead.

"There are toilets on the plane. And refreshments, and seats." You replied to him. "Besides, there'd be nowhere for us to stop off. We'd have to cross over the ocean, after all."

"T-The ocean?!"

The Harbin Ice and Snow festival held its open ceremony a few months after you and Atsushi's marriage, but once you got there, you knew it had been well worth the wait. The city was crafted with ice structures and snowy castles, illuminated by floodlights that coloured them all different shades. Both bundled in layers, you and your husband walked side-by-side through them, warming the other's hand. Atsushi bought you a delicious hot chocolate to share, and never missed the chance to kiss the cream off of your face.

"I have no idea how you're not wearing gloves," You said to him one evening as you strolled around the resort. From here, the blanketed mountains stood stark against the night sky, littered with evergreen trees. Each step you took crunched the snow beneath you.

"Ah," Atsushi piqued. He then lifted his hands to show them to you, and when you inspected them closer; you noticed that he had coated them in a thick layer of tiger fur. "Ta-dah!"

The funny sight caught you so off guard that you doubled over giggling. "What a convenient talent. I wish I could do that when I get cold!"

"You know I would if I could," He said, the warm sincerity of it coming to hug around you like your very own blanket. "But there's something that I can do."

"Oh?" You leaned up to regard your new husband — only to realise that he was no longer by your side. Instead, he had taken a few strides ahead, leaning forward onto all fours in that familiar position he took before an ability activation. Whoosh, the snow whipped up to bite your cheeks, the entire landscape was drowned out in the supernatural blue light as he shifted from man to beast.

The bands of light exploded to leave him in their remnants — only bigger, furrier, and so much more deadly. Not an ounce of fear touched your body, however — because even though standing in his place was a monstrous weretiger that prowled towards you; those were still Atsushi's eyes. The tender bump he gave you with his head still belonged to the person who had Atsushi's soul — your Atsushi.

You carded your fingers lovingly through his coat. "Hello, there." You murmured, taking his big head in your hands and scratching behind his ears. "What brings you here, Mr. Weretiger?"

Atsushi's honey-gold eyes held yours for a moment. Then, he made a swishing movement with his head — an indication for you to follow. You knitted your eyebrows, initially confused at what he wanted when he couldn't use human speech — but when he lay down in the snow and made his back easier for you to reach, you suddenly realised.

"Oh, okay." You hummed, manoeuvring to the side of his massive body and hiking your leg up. Shifting, you found a comfortable sitting position on his back. But not before you cuddled into his soft fur a little. "You are so warm, no wonder you don't need gloves."

His great big lungs reverberated when he spoke something you couldn't understand. Atsushi padded the snow — an indication that he was going to move, letting you know to hold on tight — before straightening up to his full height.

Then, he was running.

Galloping through the snow scape like you weighed absolutely nothing at all — the wind ripping through your hair, smattering your cheeks in little flecks of snowflakes. You gripped on tight to his coat, feeling the wild rush of adrenaline spike in your blood. His great big paws ate up the distance with agility, with grace. As easy and breathing for him in this form. You held on tight to your husband's body when he hopped from rock to rock, from tree to tree, taking you through your very own winter wonderland on a night you'd never forget.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

After the unholy shitshow — as your husband eloquently puts it — that was your wedding reception, it was safe to assume that Chuuya Nakahara was adamant to get out of the country in order to spend a few days alone with you. Somewhere extremely far away. And what better place was there, than the classy city of romance and wine?

He had been cunning in the preparations, refusing to reveal anything until it was the evening you scheduled to fly out on one of the Port Mafia's private air jets. Sure; the plane had been in regular use to smuggle large shipments of drugs across the Japanese border, but Chuuya had gone to touching lengths in order to make it special for you.

The inside was completely cleaned out and lavished with first-class opulence. When you stood in the hanger, suitcase in tow, you couldn't believe how beautiful he had made it look. And when he handed you a flute of fizzing champagne before boarding, he pulled you in by the waist; kissed you on the cheek, and said, are ya ready to see the real Eiffel Tower, sweetheart?

The sheer beauty of Paris was all you needed to make up for the long-haul flight over. Each building towered above you; beige stonework, panelled windows, the smell of fresh baked goods and coffee in the air. Chuuya walked with his hand on your back through the winding cobblestone walkways. He did not complain once when you spent hours busying around the shopping district La Vallée, gushing at all the quaint boutiques and bakeries. He bought as many pastries as your heart so desired. And on your last night, he told you to wear your finest dress, and took you on a boat ride around the city.

"This mustn't have been good for your bank account," You pouted, leaning over the side of the boat to admire the glossy river water. "Even for you."

Chuuya popped a piece of steak into his mouth. One eyebrow quirked. "I thought I told ya never to worry about money when you're with me, doll. Even more so now that you're my wife."

My wife, you closed your eyes, savouring the sound of it wearing his voice like the meal in front of you. It still sounded so foreign — a little out of place, when you had just gotten used to being to as the General's fiancée. When you opened your eyes, you allowed yourself a few seconds to marvel at the man who worked to make all your desires come true — and not because he had to, but because he wanted to, he loved to.

Chuuya's blue eyes twinkled underneath the fairy lights that hung from the boat's canopy. "What?"

You beckoned to all the other empty seats around you. "How did you manage to rent an entire boat for just the two of us, though?"

At that, your husband's lips lifted into a wide, vulpine smile. The type that made delicious heat lick down your spine.

"Do ya object to being on this big boat all alone with me, sweetheart?"

The heat cascading down your spine spread its fingers — until it was all over you, reaching the tips of your cheeks, the skin of your chest left exposed by the open dress. You swallowed, not breaking the eye contact, and placed your fork down with very precise movements.

You purposefully flicked your hair behind your shoulder — exposing your collarbone, the long column of your neck.

"Quite the contrary, my beautiful husband. In fact, I think the rocking could make riding you senseless feel extra good, if that was even possible."

There was a heartbeat where Chuuya didn't move. And then, the table was knocked to one side, there was a harsh clatter of metal and plates and his chair scraping against the deck when he surged for you.

You shrieked in delight when you felt his hands on your hips — hoisting you swiftly from the terrace chair and into his arms. Guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, you were held securely against him, looping your arms around his neck as he made quick work of the ships decking and down the stairs into your private bedroom.

When you both resurfaced onto the deck for some fresh air, you were blissfully unaware that the sun had risen and it had already become morning — but the crewmates definitely were.

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 (𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃) 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐎 . . .

When your newly-wed husband Ranpo Edogawa pitched the idea of a honeymoon in Tokyo; initially, you were quite sceptical. Tokyo was a city packed with people and, God forbid; a very advanced transport system. Whatever could your particular partner want in the bustling capital of your country?

Roller-coaster rides and donuts and mickey mouse ears, apparently.

He was such a child at heart, you thought fondly as you watched him flutter around the food stalls at Tokyo's Disneyland Resort, pointing at all the colourful sweets he wanted to try. You suppose Ranpo never really had the opportunity to have a childhood; being hunted for his mind and hopping from job to job just to survive before he met the President. And you cherished that part of him. Your heart grew twice its size when he returned to you, a chest-full of of packaged goods and two sticks of candyfloss.

"According to my Deductions," Your husband boasted, thrusting the candy floss out to you. "Poo's Honey Hunt is the next attraction which will have the least amount of waiting time."

You took your candyfloss carefully from him. "Of course. Although do you think it's a good idea to go riding when you have a stomach full of sweets, Ranpo?"

He leaned back and guffawed. "Pwah! Nothing is impossible for the World's Greatest Detective!"

It turned out that spinning in a plastic honey pot one too many times was a little too much for the World's Greatest Detective, after all. You rubbed soothing circles against your husband's back and held his cape out of the way as he upheaved into a colourful trashcan the moment he stepped off of the ride. You hushed anything he tried to say, instead guiding him to sit with you by the riverside — watching the fairy tale boats float on by until the nausea subsided.

A bottle of water and a handful of pastries later; Ranpo Edogawa was right back on his feet again, dragging you by the hand to the next attraction with excited, skipping steps.

And when the sun dipped low behind the bright pink castle that was a landmark to the grounds and the sky darkened into twilight, your forever partner guided you across a beautiful bridge closed off to the public for the rest of the evening. Of course, you scolded him with each step, telling him that this would get you both in a world of trouble. Only for him to turn around and wink, assuring, the stewards only patrol this area of the park every quarter of an hour. We have at least twenty minutes until anybody will be near this area again.

"Ranpo, darling, I love you," You said to him, stepping over the foliage and onto the bridge painted with bright gold — mimicking those found in story books. "But if we get fined for this, I am taking away all of your sweet stash for at least a month."

He twirled around to face you when you came to a stop in the centre of the bridge; his hands folded behind his back. His tongue stuck out. "Boo. You wouldn't be able to figure out the code."

"You doubt the mind of a wife who is angry." You cooed, but were completely unable to help the smile that tickled your lips. You were like two schoolkids; sneaking around in a no-trespass area trying not to get caught. Although you didn't understand the entire reason as to why you were stalking around a closed area of the park late at night.

You decided to question him, tilting your head. "Remind me, why is it that we're slinking around Tinkerbell's Garden and running the risk of getting caught, again?"

Your question was left hanging when Ranpo decided to keep his lips shut. Instead, he lifted three fingers up in the air. You watched with knitted brows as he brought down one — leaving two left. Then, brought down the other. And just as he let the final finger close into his fist, there was a shrill whistle, a tail of sparks flying through the night—

BOOM!

The most brilliant firework exploded in the sky.

You gasped, turning to look above the canopy that hid you both. Boom, there was another — a brilliant explosion of red and yellow. Boom, boom, two at the same time. You were arrested in place, marvelling at the light show that sent a thousand sparkles reflecting in your eyes.

Warmth. Skin. Ranpo's hand coming to intertwine with yours. His soft lips ghosting your temple, whispering the words so sweet;

"They're almost just as beautiful as you, my wonderful wife."

ღ . . . the bsd men ON THEIR WEDDING DAY

requested by wonderful [ nonnie! ]

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ohdeersthings · 2 years

Text

Soft as Clouds

Neteyam x F!Reader

Summary: You weren't well known in the clan, and when you become friends with Tuk, no one believes her.

Warning: Straight up Flufff

When you were growing up, you found yourself wanting to linger in the background more than insert yourself into the everyday activities of those your age. Like now, you were currently lounging in a tree, eyes facing up at the clouds as they moved by at their own pace.

You were a gatherer for the clan, not that anyone knew. You would rise before the sun to go out and gather the sweetest, most bountiful food your clan had ever tasted, leaving it in the baskets by the main fire circle. The fruits were always plump and juicy, herbs and spices nicely placed in pouches for easy access.

You wanted to begin early to end early, opting to stay out of sight of others. Now, some knew of you, the elders for example always took a small notice on how you were much more reserved than others your age. Your parents of course knew you, but you were a failure of a child in their eyes. At your age you should've been chosen for a mate, or made a mark on the clan in some positive way, but you didn't, so they turned their attention to your more 'promising' younger siblings.

You never cared, preferring your more modest lifestyle of peaceful serenity.

"Whoa! What are you doing up there?"

But Great Mother had other plans for you.

You gazed over the side of the branch you were currently laying on, brushing your hair that had fallen into your eyes away, spotting a young girl in the forest floor below you.

This was not just any girl, oh no, this was Tuktirey, Toruk Maktos youngest child.

You let a small smile slip on your face as you slowly began a decent, swift and agile, like that of a cat.

You knelt infront of her, your eyes meeting hers that were still so full of child like wonder, "what are you doing here small one?" Tuk giggled, looking side to side as if looking for something, or someone.

"I was following my brothers, but I guess I got lost," Extending a hand to Tuk, "Well, let us get you home then," her small fingers wrapped around yours and you both began your walk, going back down the path you had made from the times you ventured out here.

Tuk couldn't help but wonder why she had never seen you before, yet she thought you were very beautiful. The aura that surrounded you was so soft and peaceful, it made her feel instantly safe.

"Why do you come out here, it's very far from home? Are you a hunter or a gatherer? Your hair is very pretty, can you do mine like that? Wait! What's your name?" Tuk rambled out, skipping beside you. A chuckle escaped your lips, you liked Tuk, she was very silly.

You stopped and knelt down beside her, her yellow eyes stared into your soft green eyes and she couldn't help but think you held the forest in your eyes, "My name is (Y/n), I much prefer to gather, and I think your hair is fine just the way it is, simply because it's yours,"

You couldn't help but boop her nose, her nose scrunched as she let out a laugh. You smiled, "now, what is your name?" Tuk felt like you already knew, but she puffed out her chest proud, "My name is Tuktirey, but you can call me Tuk!"

"Such a pretty name," you gasped, standing up and resuming your walk to the village. Tuk swung your intertwined hands back and forth, both of you finding comfort in eachother.

When you had finally happened upon the village, you could hear everyone in a state of panic. Tuk groaned, her ears pinned back, "I think they realized I was gone," you knelt beside her, both of you hidden just out of sight with the plants, "then maybe you should appear,"

Tuk hugged you, you wrapped your arms around her to return the embrace. "Will I see you again?" She asked, pulling away enough to see your face.

"Of course, I quite like you," you smiled, slowly giving her a nudge to the panicked clan members.

When Tuk had emerged out of the brush, the panicked cries turned into one's of relief and joy. Many ran over to embrace her, but by this point you had already vanished without a trace.

"Tuk! Where were you, we were worried sick!" Jake exclaimed, sweeping his youngest into his arms and giving her a extra tight hug. "I tried to follow Neteyam and Lo'ak but I got lost, but it's okay!" Tuk laughed, "I found (Y/n) and she helped me get home!"

Jake and Neytiri exchanged a look, as did some of the other clan members. Your name was no familiar, almost positive there was no one in the village who has that name.

"Tuk, what are you talking about?" Neytiri wondered, taking her child from her mate and settling her on the ground in front of her, "There is no one named (Y/n) in the village," Neytiri began to examine Tuk for a head injury, but Tuk pulled her head away in annoyance, "I know what happened, (Y/n) helped me, she's right,"

But when Tuk turned around to where you had been, you were gone, "she was right here," Tuk cried, but her parents chalked it up to fatigue from being lost all day.

"Come, you must eat and rest," Neytiri pulled Tuk along by the hand, which Tuk did almost sulkly, glancing back one more time to see you emerge and give her a wink before disappearing behind everyone's backs. Tuk grinned, now happily walking with her Mom.

~.~

Weeks had passed and Tuk now snuck off any chance she had to find you, sometimes waking up early to join you on your gathering. You were like another big sister to her, you were so soft and gentle with her, it almost reminded her of her own mother. You would show her the best places to gather fruit and herbs, show her how to move silently through the forest so not to disturb it.

In return, Tuk gave you simple companionship. You always thought it was fun being alone, but Tuk gave you a shining light of what having someone around could be like.

When Tuk would return from wherever you two had disappeared to, she would tell her family all about it, now causing Jake and Neytiri to worry that she was making up stories to make herself feel important like her siblings.

"Ma Jake, I'm beginning to worry about Tuk," Neytiri spoke one day when she watched her youngest venture off into the brush before she could stop her, "it is not safe out there but yet she continues to go, we must stop her," Jake could only hum in agreement.

"What's the name of the person she speaks of? (Y/n)? Are we sure she's not a person in the clan?" Jake questioned, Neytiri feeling her shoulders sag in exhaustion cause she had asked any gatherer, hunter or healer she could think of and no one knew about you.

"Maybe we should send Neteyam with her one day? Make sure she's really safe? See what he can find out?" Neytiri fired off question after question, Jake taking her hands into his as he calmed her down, "That's sounds like a great idea, if there's anyone who can find out it's him, come, let's find him,"

They both set off to find their eldest, who they were sure was going to throw a fit hearing about their plan.

~.~

Tuk panted, running up to a clearing where she saw you relaxing by a small pond, toes and feet floating in the clear water. "I'm here! What are we going to do today?" Tuk skipped over, taking a seat next to you as your turned your gaze to her, a smile coating your face.

"What would you like to do?" You asked, Tuks face scrunched up in thought before asking you, "Could we go for a swim next to the waterfall?" You thought about it, before nodding. It was very close to the village, but you were looking forward to spending time with Tuk.

"Awesome!" She cheered, pulling you up off the ground and began the walk, with you giggling behind her.

The water had been very liberating of any stress or thoughts that plagued you. You sighed in bliss, leaning back to float in the water as your eyes gazed up at the clouds, the soft white making you forget everything.

Tuk had jumped in, splashing you and causing a laugh to erupt from your stomach as you flipped over, watching the young girl giggle and continue to splash you with water.

You began a water assault back, both of you not even paying attention to how loud you were being which caught the attention of Neteyam nearby who had been searching for Tuk under the instructions of their parents.

"Tuk!" He called, walking into the rocky terrain that held the waterfall where he saw Tuk soaked and wading waist deep in the water, her breath heavy as though she ran for miles, yet a smile plastered her lips.

You were no where to be seen, ducking under the water to find a rock that had caught your eye.

"Tuk, it's time to come home, let's go," he helped her out of the water, not noticing you surface up to your shoulders in the shade of a tree that grew on the nearby bank.

Your hair had rested on your face a little and your shoulders, the shade making your eyes almost glow as you analyzed Neteyam. He was your age, currently training to be the next clan leader and yet here he was, fetching his sister.

Tuk through a glance over her shoulder to see you in the shade, throwing up a quick wave goodbye and taking off in front of her brother.

Neteyam had caught her look and couldn't help but turn back, catching a quick sight of you.

A beautiful, young woman who was lounging in the water covered by shade. Your eyes are what caught his attention the most, but just as quick as he'd seen you, the next second he blinked in shock before opening them to find you gone, the water only rippling from where he saw you, well, where he thought he saw you.

Neteyam was now becoming a quick believer of Tuk's stories.

~.~

Now that Neteyam had caught a glimpse of you, he started to see you everywhere. Although, it was out of the corner of his eyes, because when he would turn to see you, your figure was gone, the place he had seen you now empty or void of anyone or anything.

He had told his parents that he didn't see anyone with Tuk, but that was only because he feared how crazy he would sound. Seeing someone who wasn't entirely there and then them being gone the next second. They'd send him straight to the Sky People for evaluation.

Neteyam had followed Tuk out of the hut one late afternoon, Tuk turning to him confused since he has never followed her before, "What are you doing?" Neteyam just smiled, playing an act to follow his parents instructions, "Well, I've missed hanging out with my favorite littlest sister," he roughed up Tuks hair, causing her to hiss and push his hand away, "so I figured we could spend the rest of the day together,"

Tuk glanced sideways towards the path, a bit unsure about how you'd reac to Neteyam coming along, "I don't know, you probably wouldn't be up for it," Neteyam raised an eyebrow, his thoughts consumed on what a child would be doing that he himself couldn't or wouldn't wanna do, especially so late in the afternoon.

"Well, if you're sure," Tuk grinned, taking off down the path faster than Neteyam had expected, "Tuk! Wait for me!"

~.~

You had been lounging in a tree again, this time basking in the setting sun's glow. You felt so warm, the lights rays bringing a sense of belonging to your being.

"(Y/n)!" Tuk exclaimed, running into sight as you glanced down at her, your lips showing your usual soft smile that you saved for her.

"Neteyam is following me, come on let's hurry!" Tuk tried to rush you, but you only laughed, "Why are we hiding from your brother?" Tuk felt her cheeks puff up in annoyance, "Come on (Y/n)! I don't want him to find you!" It wasn't often Tuk would throw a childish fit with you, so you knew this must be important to her.

You quickly climbed down, taking her hand and pulling her out of sight just in time for Neteyam to come around the corner. He stopped and took a quick look around, running a hand through his braids aggravated. "Come on Tuk! Mom and Dad don't want you out here by yourself,"

Neteyam continued on through, running right past where you two hid in a flower bush before emerging a minute after he disappeared.

Tuk laughed but quickly stopped when she saw your disappointed face, "I'm sorry," she mumbled, kicking the dirt with her ears pinned down.

"Let's walk and talk," you took her by the shoulder softly, "Is there a reason you keep running away from your family? I understand you want to be friends, but surely I'm not worth worrying your family over?"

You led her down a path as Eclipse began to set in, the forest coming to life with lights and sounds. "Well, I thought you might want to be kept alone, like how you were before we became friends," Tuk answered, but you knew better, "but?" You pushed, Tuk groaning before replying.

"Well, Neteyam has his hunting parties and future clan leader responsibilities, Kiri has healing and grandma, Lo'ak and Spuder go on treks through the forest, I just wanted something that was mine for a while," while a bit childish, you could see what she meant. It was nice to have something all your own, even if it wasn't necessarily yours to keep or own.

Tuk kept her eyes trained on the ground in front of her, hands rubbing together embarrassed. Tuk thought that you would be upset with her, but she was shocked when she felt your hand rub soothing circles on her back as you continued to walk together.

"Do not feel bad, sometimes we wish for things that cannot always be, but if it makes you feel better, you will always be my first and best friend," Tuk felt giddy knowing that you felt the same as she did. You truly were a big sister to her.

"I think it's time we returned for the night," you told her, Tuk nodded, feeling a little tired. "Come," you picked her up, her arms wrapped around your neck and head rested on her shoulder.

You smelled of flowers and mist, a calming scent that soon had Tuk drift off to sleep. Which means she couldn't return to her parents on her own, meaning you had to face the leaders of the clan.

Entering the village, you took notice that many had already gone to dinner, leaving a clear path straight to the leaders tent, where you could hear inside Jake Sully, the Olo'eyktan and Neytri, his mate and Tuks mother frantically asking Neteyam where Tuk was.

You held Tuk up with one arm, softly clearing your throat to make your presence known as you lift the drape, all three coming to a freeze as they saw you, a stranger, with Tuk fast asleep in your arms.

You dipped your head in greeting, eyes over looking the two males and straight to the female who quickly walked to you with fear and concern for her baby. "She is alright, just sleeping," you whispered, not wanting to wake up Tuk as Neytiri gently slipped her from you.

Neytiri nodded a head in thanks, though her eyes held confusion. Your eyes slipped over Jake Sullys form, a small gesture of hello from another head nod before you allowed your eyes to stay trained on Neteyams shocked yellow.

'She is real,' is all Neteyam could think as you both played a stare game, you breaking it off with a soft smile before disappearing. He found the sudden ability to move, dashing to the drape only to pull it back and find you gone, like a phantom.

"I think, that's (Y/n)" Jake mumbled, his mind wracking to find any sense of familiarity of you, but found none. Neytiri felt a small rumble from Tuk, glancing down at the small girl to find her awake and giggling softly, "Told you she was real,"

~.~

Neteyam couldn't get you out of his head, now actively looking for you, but you weren't anywhere to be found. Tuk had told him all about you, and this time he listened, but she wouldn't tell him where you go.

"(Y/n) doesn't like to be sought after, you can only find her when she wants you to find her," Tuk laughed like it was the most simplest thing in the world, but it just made Neteyam frustrated.

He knew so little about you but felt a strange need to be near you, hear your soft voice again and find out more. Call it a crush, infatuation or even obsession, he just wanted to see you again, even if for a last time.

It was only when he took a stroll through the brush on a warm afternoon, that he found you. Only you were laying patch off soft moss, eye shut as you looked at piece with the world.

The world itself seemed to be happening around you, each breath you took was like a breeze from Eywa herself. Insects and small animals passed you by, as if you were just one with them.

Neteyam had approached you slowly, footsteps light as he observed your face. It was beautiful in his eyes, your soft lashes caressing your cheeks, lips parted ever so slightly with each breath you took in. Your hair seemed to flow around you in the vast green foliage.

He was too lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice you open your eyes and look back at him. Your green eyes traced his features as well, taking in the rough yet handsome face he was gifted with. He truly was his mother's child.

When he saw your green eyes staring back at him, he fell back from his squat in shock. You softly hummed, a smile so small but just for him.

"What are you looking at?" He coughed, his face feeling warm from your stare.

You sat up slowly, his eyes glancing at how your body was bending, hair falling over your cheeks to frame your face.

Eywa help his sinful thoughts.

"Oh you know," you drawled, "The clouds,"

~.~

#avatar #avatar the way of water #atwow imagines #avatar: the way of water #atwow fanfiction #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam x drabbles

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buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

Spicy Snacks

Bucky x reader, Steve

Warnings: 2 high super soldiers who get into your stash of spicy snacks, fluffff

“Dear god”

You weren’t sure what it was you were going to walk into when you heard a ruckus in the kitchen but it was everything but this. Literally anything. The last time you’d seen such a mess was when Peter thought it’d be a good idea to babysit Morgan alone. Even that was salvageable. You should’ve known how bad it would be, given the trail of crumbs you followed from your drawer to the kitchen, but still.

This was something else...

There were snacks strewn about left, right and center. Bags of chips and candy littering every inch of the counter tops.

But what truly topped it all were the two massive super soldiers sitting cross cross apple sauce on top of the kitchen island, giggling like school children with their hands, literally in the cookie jar.

“Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Steve sang to himself while stuffing a chocolate chip one into his mouth, practically swallowing it whole.

“Steve stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Bucky snickered, taking the jar for himself and scarfing them down two at a time.

“Who me?”

“Yes you!”

“Not me!”

“Then who?”

“What are you two idiots doing” Your voice broke them away from their nursery rhyme, staring at your boyfriend first before turning to his bestfriend, the both of them trying to hide the jar behind their backs.

“Nothing’ y/n” Steve gave you a dopey grin, his baby blue eyes glazed like donuts, snickering at his bestfriend attempting to stab an apple juice box with the straw.

“S’too hard!!” Bucky whined, sticking his tongue out in concentration, eyes wide, trying to get his straw in to no avail, looking back up to you for help. He gave you his most innocent puppy pout hoping you’d help him, sticking his hands out for you to take his juice.

“Bucky get down” You huffed, trying to hide your smile when he clambered down like an admonished child with his head hung. You rolled your eyes, pushing the straw and giving it back to him, shaking your head at the grin he gave you, whispering a shy thank you.

“Ooooooo you like herrrrrr” Steve howled, now kicking his feet, letting them hang off the counter while Bucky blushed, peeking at you through his lashes. “BUCKY HAS A CRUSH”

“Nooooo” He drawled out, taking a long sip from his juice box.

“We’ve been dating for 2 years you dork” You watched his cheeks redden more, which only made him more adorable but you weren’t sure how much more nonsense was going to ensue when the both of them were higher than kites.

“She’s my girlfriend” Bucky giggled at the last word, now struggling with a new box while Steve’s eyes lit up, a classic God awful captain America plan had bean to manifest itself. He slipped off the counter, the effects of the gummies and whatever else he’d swallowed had knocked his agility off its rockers; he moved with the grace of a donkey.

“Where are you going” you stopped him before he could sneak off, your boyfriend looking equally guilty.

“Noooowhere” Steve shrugged but you gave him a pointed look while Bucky flailed his hands, hoping to silently communicate they were not about to do something idiotic.

“Sit down. Finish your snacks and then you both need to go take a nap” You felt like you were talking to toddlers, not bothering to add they had to clean their mess because you were sure that would only end in more chaos.

“But we were gonna go flying with Sam’s wings!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this” You muttered to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose before speaking again, “No. You can’t just go take Sam’s wings and go flying. Now finish your juice boxes and go to bed”

“NOOOO” Steve jumped onto Bucky, wrapping his long legs around his waist, holding onto him like a massive koala, giving you his best puppy eyes, matching his equally ridiculous best friend. “WE DON’T WANNA GO TO BED”

“Boys....”

“Please???” Bucky pouted effortlessly holding the captain up while your face scrunched up, mentally face palming yourself.

“No. No, you cannot go flying! You’ll end up hurting yourself or breaking the wings or- for fucks sake what are you doing?!” You gawked; Steve and Bucky had stopped listening many moons ago. They were back to rummaging for food, a stray sour patch kid falling to the floor.

“5 second rule” Bucky shrugged, bending over to pick it up, not seeing the smirk that crossed his bestfriends face.

“Chubby dumpling” Steve whispered, giving Bucky’s ass a poke, making him yelp. Bucky stared at him like a deer in headlights while Steve cackled to himself, tossing back another packet of nerds into his mouth. You were to engrossed at the scene in front of you to notice Tony walk in, his face equally perplexed at yours.

“What it God’s name” Tony stared at the chaos that was taking place with you in the middle, “Do I even want to ask?”

“They got into my stash of....snacks...” You smirked while Tony cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Snacks, y/n? Really?”

“...Spicy snacks”

“Who would’ve thought this would be their downfall” He mused beside you “Oh-I think clothes are coming off-oh fuck” Tony ducked while Steve's shirt flew above his head, eyes growing wide when a pair of jeans followed.

“It’s so hot!!” Steve huffed, star fishing on the cool tile floor, arms and legs splayed out to the sides. “Soooo hottttt, n’I’m sleepy now” He yawned, stretching out like a cat before closing his eyes, a sugar crash sneaking up on them.

“Okay, someone call for this ones bromantic partner to figure this out” Tony covered his eyes while calling for Sam, hoping to get Steve into some clothes before hauling him back to his room. “Y/n, I’m assuming you got terminator covered?”

“Yeah, I- Oh no” you were met with your boyfriends Henley, followed by his joggers, landing on your head, squealing when you found yourself hanging off his shoulder seconds later.

“Buck, where are we going?!” He mumbled something while making his way to the elevator in just his boxer briefs.

“S’nap time” he mumbled sleepily, trudging with you to the bedroom and plopping down on top of you, using your chest as a pillow. “wan cuddles”

“Mhm, then you get cuddles, baby boy” you giggled, carding your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling from how ridiculously adorable he was. He let out a content sigh, softly snoring moments later. You bit you lip to keep your laughs down, hearing the commotion outside your room in the hallway.

“Steve, you need to put on pants”

“Pants are for the WEAK”

“No-Steve NO!-don’t take off your-for fucks sake”

“THIS IS AMERICAS ASS”

“That’s America’s cock and balls”

“Please, for the love of God, go to your room”

“I’M GOING TO MAKE A TIKTOK”

“Steve no”

“Steve yes”

“STEVE”

“What’s the live feature”

*Sounds of Steve shrieking and then a thump with continued muffled pouting*

“You’re never eating spicy anything again”

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arachine · 2 years

Text

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ... i'd follow you anywhere .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x avatar! reader

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in which reader uses her new avatar body to finally show neteyam just how much she loves him… + based off of this thirst!

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), minimal angst (?), lots of fluff and banter lol

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, dacryphilia (v tame), corruption

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 2.5k

ᥫ᭡ note :: guys this is what happens when i ask for thirsts!!! i get carried away and never know when to stop ;(( anyway, here, have this while i work on my annual dick analysis for jake & quaritch.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh, you’ll see, kitty boy,” you giggled, tightening your grip on his wrist.

Neteyam shakes his head, tongue in cheek. He could never say no to you—not that he wanted to…he always wanted to play with you. He’d follow you into the depths of hell, or whatever the na’vi equivalent of hell was. Yeah, he’d follow you there, he thinks—definitely.

The boy relinquishes all of his motor skills to you, allowing you to drag his body further into the forest. He mirrors all of your agile movements, jumping when you jump, running when you run—and then you come to a halt, turning around quickly to face him. You’re so close—too close, the sudden proximity disrupting his equilibrium.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” you grab his forearm before he can fall, pulling him back up with a wink. He scoffs at this, mumbling something sly under his breath. You were always so quick-witted, with quick reflexes to match, too. To anyone else, this would be annoying, but to him, they were your most admirable traits. It’s what made him fall for you.

“Ha, ha, can you tell me what we are doing all the way out here now?” he raises his hands, gesturing to the clearing that you were now standing in. You smile wildly, pursing your lips together in avoidance. The boy reaches behind you to pull your tail, tickling your sides until you surrender.

“Okay, okay, just s-stop it already,” you belt out, “I wanna show you somethin’…gotta be nice to get it, though.” He retracts his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. Just what were you planning?

Grabbing his hand this time, you usher him to follow you with a tilt of your head. You lead him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, a spot that, up until now, only you were privy to its whereabouts. The perfect place for privacy.

Letting go of his hand, you push him down to sit on the forest floor, with his back resting against the bark of the tree and you nestled between his legs. His pulse quickens. What was so important that you needed to drag him so deep into the forest? In such a secluded place, nonetheless.

“I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while,” you start, voice so low, just barely above a whisper. His eyes squint in confusion, but he remains silent—listening, as to not scare you from continuing.

“You know, growing up in a shack with grown men…you hear a lot of things,” a silence, “things only men talk about.” Your eyes flitter to his, unmoving.

“like, the things they missed doing on Earth, the girls they miss fucking—and what they’d do to have a woman’s lips wrapped their cocks…” The last bit comes out more hushed, gently kissing the shell of his ears. His tail reacts to you before he can, swishing in jagged movements, exposing his excitement.

“Has anyone ever kissed you down there?” your eyes flit to his groin.

He shakes his head eagerly, “No, I have n-never heard of this…nobody has ever…”

“Can I?” you tilt your head, flashing him your best doe-eyes. It was fun teasing him, a feeling that you’d never grow tired of. From first glance, to first introduction, you’d been bound at the hip since you could talk. Everything he did, you did, and vice versa. If you were feeling sick one day and couldn’t play, then shit, he was too. If you wanted to jump off a cliff one day, he’s jumping with you!

His loyalty to you was unyielding, grounding. And as the years passed, and the two of you transitioned from bright-eyed little kids to gangly, awkward teens on the cusp of adulthood, you started to realize something. That you wanted to be all of his firsts.

Determinedly, you set out to do just that. On his thirteenth birthday, you kissed his cheek. A scintilla of your love, stained onto the expanse of his face that served as a mental reminder that this boy was yours—promised to you, and only you.

Then, three more years passed. The boy with the rounded cheeks and toothy smile, had begun to change. It started out slow, though, then the differences became more gradual.

The first to change was his face. What was once round and doughy, had now become slim and sharp. And then it was his physique. No longer was he the awkward child with gangly limbs, and a head too big for his body (as you liked to put it). No, he was much more…different. And each and every one of these changes, a testament to his inevitable journey into adulthood.

On his sixteenth birthday, you kissed him. Once. But in that one kiss, you poured every ounce of love that you’d collected over the years. Every thought, every wish, every yearn, went right into that kiss—another piece of your heart that you carved just for him. For him to have and hold, to keep safe.

And when it was over, you pulled away with a smile, and a dagger of a tongue dipped in poison, ready to deliver heartbreak.

You’re a man now, you uttered. I wanted to give my best friend his first kiss. And that was it, that was all it was ever going to be—because you were human, then. Still a weak, measly, little human who spent all her time living in a false reality, chasing something (someone) that could never really truly be promised to you. Not until you made the change.

So, you waited. And…waited, and waited, and waited until one day you could meet his eye without having to look up, or for him to drop down. You waited until the day when you’d be recognized as his equal.

Today was that day, on his twentieth birthday. And so you ask again.

“Can I kiss you down here?”

He nods. Once, twice, then stutters out an eager yes. Gently you smooth your palm up and over his knee, the skin of his thighs, and then stop beneath the fabric of his loin cloth. Your fingers trace the area teasingly, and you giggle when his hip juts up from the sensation. So sensitive.

Slowly, you remove the cloth from his body, and take him into your hand. He’s semi-hard and leaking pre—and warm. So, so warm. You bring it up to your cheek, rubbing it against the area before turning your head to leave a zephyr-light kiss on his shaft. You kiss it once, then twice, then kiss it again for every year you spent not kissing him.

“What are you doing?” he laughs, “Come on, it tick—hahhh.” A whine vacates from his throat upon you licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft, to the tip of his head. Naturally, his hands find solace atop of your head.

“So dramatic, I didn’t even do anything yet.” This time, you take him into your mouth, forcing him to watch you as more and more of his length disappears into the cavern of your mouth.

Technically, you’d never done this before (save for the few times you practiced on fruit) so it was your first time, just as much as it was his. But he didn’t have to know that. You wanted to appear like you knew what you were doing, or at the very least, like you’d done this before. You try to remember all the things you’ve heard over the years.

1) Girls who used teeth were bad, but girls who flattened their tongues and relaxed their throats were good.

2) Girls who didn’t use spit sucked, but girls who got really messy were good fucks.

3) Girls who didn’t play with balls were lazy, but girls who did knew how to have fun.

So, you use an amalgamation of all of the tips that you garnered. You flatten your tongue, ease your throat so that you can take him farther, until the head of his cock hits your uvula.

“Shhit, mmf,” he breathes, attempting to stifle a moan by digging a hand into the forest soil. Immediately, you grab his hand and place it back onto your head, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“Keep ‘em here,” your hand fists his length, “want you to use me. Wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?” His dick twitches in your hold, because fuck, the sight before him is almost too much for him to handle.

You, before him on your knees, with your dainty hand wrapped around him, and your face wet with drool. And you want him to what? Use you? To make him feel…good? God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was Eywa playing tricks on his mind. Giving him a taste of euphoria before yanking him back to reality.

He has half a mind to pinch himself, and half mind to poke you, because there’s just no way this is real. Bullshit. But then you’re sinking back down onto him, and swirling your tongue around his head, and using your hands to massage his balls, and—

“Fuck,” his hands reflexively push you down onto his length. His body shivers when the tip of your nose makes contact with his pelvis. You’re so warm, and wet, so inviting, he can’t seem to let go. He keeps you there until you physically can’t fathom it, and pull off of him in search of air.

“That felt…nice,” he says bashfully, “can you do that again?” You nod eagerly, accumulating a generous amount of spit in your mouth to use as a salve, lathering it up and down the length of him before he guides you back to his awaiting cock.

He watches intently as your lips stretch to accommodate him again. Now his hands, which are tangled in your tresses, are moving more confidently. They push and pull you, maneuvering your head gently and at a steady pace, then gradually, they increase their speed.

Neteyam does this a few times and then allows you to take the reins. When you’re ready, you take a deep inhale through your nose, and push yourself down until you feel the weight of him hit the back of your throat. The first time was a bit easier, mostly because your jaw wasn’t as fatigued as it was now, but you persevere anyway.

Inhale, exhale. A mantra that you have to repeat to yourself to distract you from the urge to gag. You try your best to keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open by digging your nails into the fat of his thighs.

When you look up at him, there’s an elated expression molded onto his face. His head is thrown back against the tree, hair strewn about with tendrils sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are shut closed.

He looks…so beautiful. That’s when you feel a tear ribbon down your face and onto his thigh. You’re unsure if it’s because of the air steadily leaving your brain, or if it’s because of how pretty he looks right now—all sweaty, slick with your drool.

You settle on the former. It had to be the air. Eventually, your lungs give out and you have to take a breather. The sudden loss of warmth forces his eyes open, and then they fall on your face. Your eyes. Doe-eyed and clouded. Cheeks stained with tears.

“Pretty.” Is all he says, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You work him the rest of the way with the iota of energy you have left, concentrating on the head of his cock while your hand fists him to climax.

His abs begin to tremble and flex when you switch between hollowing your cheeks and massaging his balls. A visual indication that he was close to coming.

“Waitwaitwait, it feels like,” he’s panicked, trying to push you away. You dodge his attempts to remove you and continue your assault, only this time, you gently apply pressure to his perineum. Unceremoniously, he pushes your head down to the hilt and you moan around him from the force.

The vibrations from your throat makes his head feel all fuzzy. He’s so close, on the precipice of euphoria. And your hands—that are still situated on his thighs—rub the expanse of them reassuringly, coaxing him to finish right on your tongue.

With a final lazy piston, he comes into your mouth, and the warm, salty seed that you’d been anticipating leaks down the column on your throat. Moans tumble from his lips, along with hushed expletives, and he’s shaking. The cords of muscle beneath your palm tense and flex before regressing to their natural, relaxed state.

You remove your mouth promptly and rise to your haunches, making sure that his eyes are locked onto yours as you stick out your tongue to show him his seed.

“No, do not swallow that, I didn’t mea—“ Disobeying his wishes, you do it anyway. Swallowing it all all down and making it a point that you did so by sticking your tongue out again. His tail flicks in response, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Why did you do that? It’s dirty,” he caresses your cheek, wiping away the leftover spent from your mouth.

“‘Cause I wanted to…” You counter. “And it’s not dirty, you tasted good.”

Neteyam rolls his eyes at this, like him tasting good is too hard for him to believe.

“Don’t believe me? Here, try it.” And then you give him the gift that you had gifted to him all those years ago. A kiss. It’s equal parts sweet and needy, different from the first time it happened, but that’s because it was supposed to be. You wanted him to know exactly what you meant. No more waiting. No more pining.

When you draw back, breathless and dizzy, he’s still stuck in a stupor. Lips jutted out and waiting for you to kiss him again. Again, again, again. He opens his eyes, and sees you staring back at him.

“See, I told yo—“ He takes a fist full of your hair and connects his lips to yours. This is him returning the gift. Letting you know that he got the message, loud and clear, and that it was reciprocated. Every ounce of love that flows through his heart is poured into your own; he hopes you can feel it.

“I told you not to fall for me,” you whisper, looking up at him with an avian flutter of your lashes. Neteyam’s hands find solace on the sides of your cheeks, and then he speaks.

“I think I fell for you a long time ago.” Warmth washes over you, his sweet words and strong hands overriding all of your cognitive functions. Specifically, the one in charge of keeping you calm and collected.

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re gonna fall for me a lot harder when you see what I have planned for you later.”

“What’s later?”

“Shh, what fun would it be if I told the birthday boy the surprise?” You grin cheekily, unaware of the way your tail swishes from side to side as you say it. Neteyam knows you’re up to no good, but he doesn’t care. He’d follow you anywhere, after all.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader smut #avatar x reader #atwow smut #avatar the way of water smut

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 6 months

Text

Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (ONESHOT)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader Word Count: 15079

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl

Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.

A/N: I got a request for Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader with enemies to lovers and I fucking JUMPED at this one, I did not mean to write this much, holy shit. I didn't really have a plan going into this one, so when I started writing, I was going from top to bottom, so whatever happened happened and I clearly went OFF! While writing this, I kinda had comic-book!Scarecrow in my brain for reasons I couldn't explain, but ya know... it's the same dude so yeah. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚

"I'll need you to be on watch in the Narrows tonight," Bruce instructed Y/n as he fastened his suit, his tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.

"Any you want me to keep an eye one in particular?" Y/n asked, adjusting her own suit in preparation.

"Many, but the Scarecrow’s been more active recently, I want you to look out for him, I have the Joker to deal with." Bruce replied, his gaze distant as he mentally prepared for the night's challenges.

It had been a a few months since Y/n first became the Batgirl. Y/n often found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps it was the right place at the right time, depending on how one looked at it. As a bystander in Gotham City, she frequently stumbled upon scenes of crime and chaos, unwittingly becoming entangled in the city's never-ending struggle for order.

On one occasion, while walking home from work, Y/n witnessed a mugging in progress. Without hesitation, she sprang into action, using her self-defense skills to fend off the assailant and protect the victim. Little did she know, Batman had been monitoring the situation from the shadows, impressed by her bravery and resourcefulness.

This became a regular occurrence for Y/n after that, seeking out injustice in the city and protecting those in need. With each encounter, Y/n found herself drawn further into Batman's world, her actions catching his attention time and time again, forging an unexpected bond between herself and the Dark Knight.

Under Batman's guidance, Y/n evolved from a mere bystander into Batgirl, a symbol of hope and strength for the citizens of Gotham. With her skills and determination, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Caped Crusader, ready to confront the darkness that threatened to consume their city.

The two of them went their separate ways, Y/n finding herself in the Narrows, poached on a building. And as if on cue, she heard screams coming from an alley. Immediately jumping into action, Y/n dropped down and rushed to the scene, and just as she expect, the man with a burlap mask stood over a helpless person, screaming and scratching on the floor.

"Refining your toxins, Scarecrow?" Y/n's voice echoed down the dimly lit alley, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

"Alone in the shadows, Batgirl?" Scarecrow's distorted voice floated back, his eerie presence sending shivers down Y/n's spine.

Without hesitation, Y/n surged forward, her determination driving her towards the looming figure of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's agility was surprising, a testament to his cunning and prowess.

Despite his speed, Y/n's athletic skills allowed her to gain ground. With a swift motion, she held out a Batarang, sending it spinning towards Scarecrow's feet. The makeshift trap worked like a charm, causing him to stumble and crash to the ground.

"Lost your footing?" Y/n taunted, her voice laced with determination.

"Lost your vision?" Scarecrow retorted, his words accompanied by a sudden burst of suspicious powder that engulfed Y/n's senses.

Coughing and disoriented, she struggled to maintain her balance as her surroundings blurred into a hazy fog.

In the midst of the chaos, Scarecrow seized the opportunity to strike, delivering a well-aimed kick that sent Y/n tumbling to the ground. With a pained groan, she collided with the unforgiving pavement, the impact jarring her senses and rattling her confidence.

As Scarecrow's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the distant echoes of the Narrows, Y/n cursed her carelessness. Still reeling from the encounter, she struggled to regain her bearings, her vision still clouded and her body aching from the fall.

"This better not be permanent," Y/n muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice as she struggled to regain her footing amidst the haze of her blurry vision.

With the aid of the wall for support, Y/n navigated her way out of the Narrows, determination guiding her steps despite her impaired sight. Fumbling for her walkie-talkie, she summoned Batman, her admission tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Hey, uh... Could you bring the Batmobile? I can't see," Y/n confessed, her tone a clear indication of her frustration.

"On my way," Batman's reassuring voice crackled through the device.

As she waited at the end of the alleyway, the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine signaled Batman's arrival. He lifted the roof of the vehicle, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of Y/n's uncertainty.

"You getting in?" Batman's usual impatience brought a hint of levity to the situation, his words a welcome distraction from Y/n's predicament.

"Yeah, could you help me? I can't see properly," Y/n admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's all just a black blob."

Without hesitation, Batman leaped out of the car, his strong hand reaching out to guide Y/n safely into the vehicle. As they embarked on their journey through the city's shadowy streets, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the steadfast ally by her side.

"Rough night?" Batman's gravelly voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension that hung in the air.

"You could say that," Y/n replied, her tone heavy with disappointment as she settled into the seat beside him. "Will my vision be like this permanently?" Y/n asked, the question bugging her for the last 10 minutes.

"Hard to tell with the Scarecrow, but you should be okay. It's a surprise he didn't use his fear toxin on you," Batman remarked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

Y/n let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the seat. In the darkness of the Batmobile, surrounded by the faint hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the city outside, she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But even in her moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the presence of the silent guardian beside her, a reminder that she was never truly alone in the shadows of Gotham.

Fortunately for Y/n, her vision returned within an hour, relieving her of the temporary blindness. Despite Bruce's insistence that she call it a night and rest up, Y/n's determination to uncover more about their adversary remained unyielding. In the depths of the Batcave, she was immersed in her research, combing through databases and news articles in search of a lead.

"Thought you'd be down here, Master Bruce holding you back?" Alfred's familiar voice echoed through the cavernous space as he descended into the Batcave.

"No, I was supposed to head home an hour ago," Y/n admitted, her attention still fixed on the glowing screen before her.

"Well, shall I fetch you some supper then?" Alfred offered, ever the attentive caretaker.

"It's alright, Alfred. Thank you," Y/n replied, offering a grateful smile in his direction.

As Alfred approached, he cast a glance at the screen, taking note of Y/n's diligent research and the meticulous notes scattered around her workspace.

"My, you've certainly done quite the thorough job. It's no wonder you landed that internship," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with pride.

"You and I both know I only got that internship at Arkham because of Bruce's influence," Y/n laughed.

"You ought to give yourself more credit, Miss L/n," Alfred's voice held a gentle admonishment as he glanced over Y/n's work. "When is your first day, anyway?"

Glancing at the clock, Y/n realized it was already 1 AM. "Tomorrow," she answered.

"I beg of you to go home, Miss L/n. Your sleep schedule is bad enough as it is," Alfred urged, concern etched in his voice.

Y/n let out a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to leave the Scarecrow for another time."

Y/n and Alfred made their way back up to Wayne Manor, Y/n gathering her belongings in preparation to depart. Despite her reluctance to leave her research behind, she knew that rest was necessary if she wanted to be at her best for the challenges that lay ahead. With one last glance at the Batcomputer, Y/n bid farewell to the Batcave, her mind already turning towards the mysteries that awaited her on her first day at Arkham.

Y/n's first day at Arkham Asylum began with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The towering, foreboding structure of the institution loomed against the gray skies of Gotham, its reputation preceding it.

Working at Arkham Asylum had always been a dream for Y/n, fueled by a deep fascination with the psychology of criminals. And there was no better place than Arkham. She was aware that Bruce had played a pivotal role in securing this internship for her, primarily to make it easier to access the criminals and their files. Yet, this knowledge did little to dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, she saw it as practical to use her role for the greater good, combining her academic interests with her goal to protect Gotham.

As she stepped through the heavy, security-laden doors, she was greeted by Dr. Penelope Young, one of Arkham's leading psychiatrists and her supervisor for the duration of the internship.

"Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss L/n. I'm Dr. Young. I'll be showing you around today and discussing what you can expect during your time here," Dr. Young said, offering a firm handshake that Y/n returned.

Their tour began in the more benign corridors of the asylum, where Dr. Young outlined the history of Arkham, its purpose, and its challenges. She spoke with a passion that contrasted the grim surroundings, her belief in rehabilitation and understanding of the human psyche evident in her every word.

"As you'll soon learn, Arkham is more than just a holding facility for Gotham's criminally insane. It's a place of complexity, where psychology and security intersect in ways you won't see anywhere else," Dr. Young explained as they navigated through secure checkpoints.

The tour included visits to various departments, including the high-security wards where Gotham's most notorious villains were held. Dr. Young's explanations were thorough, covering the protocols for dealing with dangerous inmates, the importance of mental health assessments, and the ongoing research aimed at better understanding and treating profound psychological disorders.

"Your role here, Miss L/n, will involve assisting with patient assessments, participating in therapy sessions, and contributing to our research projects. It's crucial work that not only helps us understand the minds of those we're treating but also aids in ensuring the safety of Gotham City," Dr. Young said, her tone serious yet encouraging.

As they concluded the tour in the library, filled with texts on psychology, criminology, and the history of Arkham itself, Dr. Young offered some final advice.

"Always remember, the work we do here is challenging and often thankless. But it's also incredibly important. You're going to see and experience things that will test you, but I believe you have the potential to make a real difference."

Y/n left the tour feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. The weight of her responsibilities at Arkham Asylum was now fully realized, but so too was her determination to meet the challenges head-on. As she prepared for her first assignment, she couldn't help but feel that her journey into the heart of Gotham's darkness was only just beginning.

Patrolling the rooftops alongside Batman had become a familiar part of Y/n's night life, yet that particular night, her performance was far from her usual standard. Missteps, a lack of balance, and a series of other minor blunders affected her efforts. Aware of Bruce's patience, she nonetheless couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more of a liability than an asset to Batman during their late-night surveillance.

"Fuck, sorry," Y/n muttered, hastily picking herself up after her foot caught on an uneven crack on a rooftop in the Narrows.

Batman halted his advance, turning to face her with a concern that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cowl. "You should head home, you need rest," he suggested.

Y/n's gaze dropped, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She knew he was right, yet admitting it felt like conceding to a weakness she couldn't afford.

"You're exhausted. It's been a long day," Batman tried to reassure her, recognizing the toll the day's events had taken on her.

"I know, but I feel like I need to be here," Y/n insisted, her voice a mix of determination and frustration.

"Is this about the Scarecrow again?" Batman's question cut through the tension, his insight honing in on the heart of her persistence.

"...Yeah," Y/n admitted, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her voice.

Her obsession with stopping Scarecrow had pushed her to her limits, yet she felt an unyielding need to confront the fear he spread across Gotham. In that moment, beneath the expanse of the night sky, her dedication to their cause was as clear as the weariness she fought against.

The Scarecrow was Y/n's first real challenge with one of Gotham's notorious Rogue's. Until now, her experiences had primarily involved run-ins with lesser-known criminals. Unmasking the Scarecrow, whose identity remained a mystery to all of Gotham, would be a monumental achievement for her.

"Why don't you hang back a bit? You can stay on the scene, but I'd rather you not engage in anything major," Batman suggested, his voice carrying a note of protective caution.

Y/n nodded in agreement. She decided to approach the situation with caution, opting for observation over direct confrontation. From her vantage point on a nearby rooftop, she kept a vigilant eye on the Narrows, tracking Batman's movements as he patrolled the shadowy labyrinth below. That's when she spotted him.

Quickly, she grabbed her radio to alert Batman. "Scarecrow spotted near the north apartments!" she reported, urgency lacing her voice.

As Batman sprang into action, heading towards the reported location, Y/n felt a surge of determination. She knew she couldn't just stand by. Moving with purpose, she leaped across rooftops, her movements a blend of precision and grace, as she closed in on the two. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead yet driven by a deep-seated resolve to make a difference.

His pursuit was relentless, a testament to years of honing his skills for moments just like this. The Scarecrow, a master of terror and manipulation, darted ahead, his movements erratic and desperate, aware that the Dark Knight was closing in on him.

The Scarecrow, realizing the inevitability of his capture, turned to face Batman, a sinister smile playing across his lips, hidden beneath the grotesque mask that had become his signature.

In a swift movement, Scarecrow pulled from his tattered coat a small canister, unleashing a cloud of his fear toxin directly at Batman. The gas, a potent concoction of Scarecrow's own design, filled the air, a visible miasma of terror.

Batman, caught off-guard by the sudden assault, attempted to evade the cloud but inhaled a breath of the toxic fumes. The world around him twisted horrifyingly, his vision blurring as the gas took hold, plunging him into a nightmarish landscape of his own fears. Towering figures of his past adversaries loomed over him, their taunts echoing in his ears, while the loss of his parents replayed in agonizing detail, a never-ending cycle of pain and guilt.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Batman collapsing, overcome by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Without hesitation, she reached out to Alfred through her radio.

"It's urgent. Batman's been incapacitated by Scarecrow's fear gas. You need to get him immediately," she relayed with urgency.

Without waiting for Alfred's confirmation, she sprung into action, her body moving almost on instinct. She descended from her vantage point into the alleyway below, her cape billowing behind her as she set her sights on the retreating figure of the Scarecrow.

"You just can't let it go, can you?" Scarecrow taunted, turning to hurl a canister of his sinister concoction in her direction.

The moment the toxin enveloped her, Y/n's reality twisted into a nightmarish tableau. She fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips as the shadows around her seemed to swell with judgment and scorn. But this was different, alongside the overwhelming fear, a heavy drowsiness dragged at her consciousness.

This was no ordinary fear toxin, she realized with a struggle to maintain her awareness. Her breaths came in labored gasps, each one a battle against the encroaching darkness. Her strength ebbed away, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley. Her vision blurred, yet she could make out the Scarecrow's figure looming over her, his mask a grotesque visage that pulsated in her dimming sight.

As her field of view narrowed to a point, she saw Scarecrow bend down beside her, his hands reaching out to grasp her. Then, as if a curtain had fallen over her world, everything succumbed to darkness.

The throbbing in her head was the first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo through her entire being. Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Y/n reached up, her fingers pressing into her temples in a futile attempt to sooth the pain. With her eyes still firmly shut, she sat up from the surface beneath her.

As she became more aware, her palm registered the unmistakable chill of metal against her skin. Hesitantly, she allowed her eyelids to part, squinting against the dim light that filled her unfamiliar surroundings. This place, cold, sterile, and decidedly unwelcoming, was far from the familiar confines of her home or the Batcave. Panic fluttered in her chest as the realization set in.

She found herself lying on a stark, metallic table, the centerpiece of what appeared to be a neglected laboratory. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay, a testament to the room's dubious purposes. With a growing sense of dread, Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her movements halting as another alarming detail dawned on her, her mask was missing.

She took a sharp intake of breath as she frantically searched her surroundings, her heart racing. Though still clad in the protective gear of Batgirl, minus her utility belt, the absence of her mask left her exposed, vulnerable.

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She became tense, preparing for who might come through that door, her mind racing through possibilities and plans of escape.

As the door swung open, the Scarecrow stepped through, his presence immediately filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. His iconic, scratchy burlap mask seemed to leer at her, the tattered edges of his suit fluttering slightly with his movements. Y/n's heart sank, deep down, she'd known he would be her captor.

The realization of her vulnerability flashed through her mind, sparking a defiant glare, even as she attempted to shield her identity by casting her gaze downward.

"You needn't bother trying to hide now," Scarecrow's voice cut through the tense air, a smirk audible in his tone as he closed the distance between them. "I've seen all I need to see."

Acknowledging that hiding was no longer an option, Y/n understood that resistance might still sway the balance in her favor. With a burst of energy, she attempted to launch herself off the table, only to crumble to the ground, her legs betraying her strength.

"Easy, you've only just regained consciousness," Scarecrow taunted, his steps hastening towards her prone form.

In her struggle to stand back up, Scarecrow's hands suddenly steadied her, pulling her up with a firm grip on her arm. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Y/n's resolve didn't falter. Her hand darted out, seizing a scalpel from a nearby table, and she held it towards Scarecrow, who instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The air between them crackled with tension, each poised for the other's next move.

Scarecrow's voice was calm, yet firm. "You're hardly in a position to resist effectively. Let me help you back onto the table before you injure yourself further. The scalpel isn't necessary," he advised, his tone bordering on reasonable.

Y/n couldn’t help but notice how professionally he spoke.

"So you can subject me to more of your experiments? Yeah nah," she laughed, sarcastically.

Scarecrow, unfazed by her resistance, replied with a hint of a threat, "Whether you agree or not, you're in no condition to stand. It's only a matter of time before you collapse again."

She knew he was right. She could barely feel her legs, and the bits of sensation she did have was undeniable pain. With a reluctant sigh, Y/n let the scalpel clatter back onto the table.

Seeing her give in, Scarecrow lowered his hands and gently supported her around her waist, guiding her with a care that contrasted with his usual menace. He lifted her effortlessly, placing her back on the medical table with a carefulness that seemed out of character. Her legs dangled off the side, the height of the table leaving her feet dangling in the air, a subtle reminder of her current vulnerability.

"Why am I here?" Y/n demanded.

"Had I not intervened, you would be dead," Scarecrow replied.

"So, you hit me with your gas for shits and giggles? Or am I just another subject for your midnight experiments?" Y/n's tone was laced with anger.

"I never intended to expose you to the gas," Scarecrow clarified, moving to grab an item from a nearby table.

"And what? Your hand just slipped?" Y/n retaliated with sarcasm.

"I thought you were the Batman," Scarecrow confessed as he returned to her side.

"And how does that change anything?" Y/n challenged.

Ignoring her, he held a cup, what appeared to be cloudy water. Scarecrow pressed the cup into her hand.

"What's this?" Y/n asked, raising her brow.

"For your headache and numbed legs," Scarecrow responded.

Y/n eyed the cup warily, her skepticism evident. Scarecrow sighed, his voice distorted by his mask.

"If I intended harm, it would have been done already," he assured her.

"Then answer my question," Y/n pressed.

"What question?" Scarecrow responded quickly, playing the fool.

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter that you gassed me if I work with Batman?"

Scarecrow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. She returned his stare, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, an aspect she'd never noticed before, having never been this close to him without a fight.

"Why don’t you want to hurt me?" Y/n rephrased her question.

"Because I don’t want to," he replied simply.

Y/n's shoulders sagged in defeat as she took a sip from the cup, relieved to find it tasted just like water.

"What's your name?" Scarecrow's question caught her off guard.

Y/n shot him a judging glance. "Seriously? Are you dumb? Or do you think I am?"

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound crackled by his mask. "Your face isn't much of a secret now," he remarked.

"True, but a name would give away too much, wouldn't it? Besides, I doubt you'd share yours even if I asked," Y/n countered.

"Fair enough. Batgirl it remains," Scarecrow said.

Concern creased Y/n's brow as she broached the subject weighing on her mind. "So, what's your plan for me now?"

"You're not in any shape to leave just yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Okay, but when I am?" Y/n pressed.

Scarecrow hesitated. "I can't say for certain when that'll be," he admitted.

"You're the reason I'm drugged up…it was your toxin," Y/n pointed out.

"I didn't anticipate having to save anyone after using the gas," Scarecrow replied, his gaze drifting away.

Y/n sensed there was more to his reluctance than he let on. "Why won't you let me go?" she demanded.

"I told you—" Scarecrow began, but Y/n interjected firmly, "I want the real reason."

Scarecrow settled into a chair at a nearby desk.

"Aw, is the Scarecrow feeling lonely?" Y/n teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air.

Though she couldn't discern his expression behind the mask, she could practically feel the weight of his glare.

"Hey, if you keep up with that attitude, I might just have to pay you a visit in the Narrows," Y/n teased further, her words laden with playful defiance.

Y/n couldn't shake the uncertainty creeping into her mind. Was she really entertaining him with her banter?

"I suppose I'll have to hold you to that," Scarecrow retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he actually want her to visit?

"...Batman must be worried about me," Y/n spoke aloud.

"You'd be correct. He's been searching the Narrows looking for you," Scarecrow confirmed.

She's now aware of their whereabouts. Somewhere in the Narrows, not entirely helpful, but better than nothing.

Relief washed over Y/n. "So he's okay then?" she asked anxiously.

"I only administered a small dose. He's perfectly fine," Scarecrow reassured her.

"Can I leave in about 10 minutes?" Y/n requested.

Scarecrow sighed. "Yes, but let me perform one final check first," he insisted.

He approached her. "Can you stand?"

Y/n noticed a tingling sensation in her legs, a welcome sign of returning strength. She gingerly hopped off the metal table, feeling Scarecrow's supportive grip immediately. Taking a moment to steady herself with his assistance, she eventually managed to push him away gently.

"Considering how quickly Batman bounced back, I'm sure he'll be able to assist you if you encounter any further issues," Scarecrow remarked.

"So, can I go?" Y/n inquired.

"Yes, but you'll be blindfolded," Scarecrow detailed.

Y/n watched as Scarecrow grabbed an unexpected item from his coat, her mask which she had completely forgotten about. She accepted it, placing it securely back on her face. Following this, he produced a blindfold, carefully tying it around her eyes.

"What about my utility belt?" she questioned.

"It's been left in the alley. I expect Batman has already located it with the tracker," Scarecrow informed her.

It made sense, had the belt been here, Batman would have pinpointed her location instantly due to its tracking device.

"Give me your hand," Scarecrow said.

Y/n reached out, feeling Scarecrow's grip. His hand was bare, contrasting with her gloved one, allowing her to feel the unique texture of his skin. Together, they navigated towards what Y/n presumed was the exit.

"Mind your step," Scarecrow instructed.

With extra caution, Y/n raised her foot higher than usual, stepping over what she imagined was the door frame. The sound of metal underfoot suggested they had transitioned onto a metallic grate.

"Coming up to some stairs," Scarecrow said.

As Scarecrow slightly descended, he guided Y/n to the first step. Clutching Scarecrow's hand for support, her free hand found a handrail. They carefully descended the staircase together.

"Last step," Scarecrow informed her.

Her feet found solid concrete below. They continued their journey outside, Y/n blind to their surroundings. After about ten minutes wandering the Narrows in silence, Scarecrow halted.

"I'm going to spin you so you won't know which direction we came from," Scarecrow explained.

Y/n snorted, "Feels like a weird game," she joked.

Gently, Scarecrow placed his hands on her shoulders and started to spin her. Y/n laughed, her steps becoming unsteady as she spun. Once she was sufficiently dizzy, Scarecrow ceased the spinning.

"Can I take off the blindfold now?" Y/n asked.

Scarecrow loosened the knot, freeing her from the blindfold. Blinking against the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her balance off from the spinning.

"I have no idea where I am," she admitted, scanning the area.

"That was the point," Scarecrow replied.

A small smile formed on her lips. "Hey, thanks for not killing me," she uttered, a phrase she never imagined saying.

"I apoligize for using the gas on you," Scarecrow said.

"I appreciate the apology...So! See you around?" Y/n tilted her head, looking at him.

Scarecrow seemed taken aback. "You aren't planning to tackling me to the ground for Batman?"

She shook her head.

"Then, yes... until next time, Batgirl," Scarecrow affirmed.

With that, Y/n walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the alley. Glancing back one last time, she found he had vanished into the shadows.

As Y/n made her way towards the mouth of the alley, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows with a swift, purposeful stride. The figure's imposing silhouette was unmistakable against the dimly lit street. Batman, cloaked in his iconic cape, his gaze fixed intently ahead.

He approached Y/n, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Where have you been?" Batman's voice, deep and grave.

Although aggressive, she knew it was his way of showing his concern.

Y/n sighed. "I'm fine, thanks! But I wouldn’t have been if not for an unexpected turn of events," she responded, her voice a mix of relief and bewilderment.

Batman surveyed the surroundings with a beading eye, then returned his attention to Y/n. "Scarecrow?" he asked, already piecing together the encounter from the clues left behind.

"Yep," Y/n confirmed.

Batman summoned the Batmobile with a press of a button, and it swiftly glided around the corner, halting with precision in front of them. "We'll discuss it on the way," Batman suggested, sliding into the driver's seat of the Batmobile.

Y/n quickly followed, hopping into the passenger seat. The top sealed shut with a soft hiss, and they set off toward the Batcave, the engine's low rumble filling the air.

"As soon as you were hit with the toxin, I ran after Scarecrow. I know you said not to but I couldn't just stand by," Y/n recounted. "He hit me with some kind of super version of his toxin... I blacked out and later woke up in his lab... He had saved my life," she reflected, still piecing together the surreal events.

"Scarecrow...saved you...after he was the one to endanger you..." Batman's voice betrayed a hint of skepticism.

"Exactly... He said he mistook me for you and used a more lethal toxin," Y/n clarified.

Batman mulled over the information, "This must be part of some elaborate scheme."

"...When I was unconscious, he took off my mask," Y/n added quietly, the weight of her vulnerability in that moment hanging between them.

"We can't change what's happened," Batman responded with an unexpected calm. "For now, you need to stay at the batcave."

Y/n understood the protective gesture, Batman was ensuring her safety. This meant her encounters with Scarecrow would be on hold, a disappointing, yet perhaps for the best, turn of events.

Upon their arrival at the Batcave, Bruce insisted on conducting his own check up of Y/n to ensure her well-being. As he meticulously checked her condition, Y/n found her thoughts drifting back to Scarecrow.

The lanky figure behind the coarse, burlap mask now intrigued her more than ever. Despite her efforts to thwart his plans and her alliance with Batman, Scarecrow had spared her life. His actions defied the logic that he should have seen her as a direct threat, deserving of his lethal wrath.

Throughout their encounters, Scarecrow had consistently avoided using his fear toxin on her, opting for less harmful methods. And on the one occasion he did administer it, he promptly provided an antidote and went as far as looking after her back at his lab.

What puzzled her further was his reluctance, or perhaps refusal, to let her leave. There seemed to be an underlying reason he didn't want her to go, adding layers to his already complex persona. This unexpected mercy and the mystery shrouding his true intentions only deepened Y/n's curiosity about the man beneath the mask.

Y/n's second week interning at Arkham was unfolding better than she'd anticipated. Tasked with interacting with the less dangerous patients, she found them peculiar yet unexpectedly sweet, a stark contrast to her initial assumptions. Each person, in their own right, contributed to the unique tapestry of Arkham's inhabitants.

Walking through the asylum's corridors on her way to Dr. Young's office with a stack of files in hand, Y/n was absorbed in her thoughts, hardly aware of her surroundings. This lack of attention led to a collision with a passerby, resulting in her files scattering across the floor.

"Shit, sorry," she blurted out, immediately kneeling to gather the scattered documents.

The individual she bumped into stood frozen, offering no assistance or reaction. Once she collected her files and stood up to face him, she found herself looking at a tall, slender man adorned with rectangular, wire-framed glasses, his expression one of bafflement.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, hoping to break the ice.

Yet, the man remained silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open, offering nothing but a fixed stare. With an awkward smile, Y/n excused herself, moving past him to continue on her way.

"Sorry, again... Have a good day," she added, before turning her focus forward and spotting Dr. Young near her office.

"Met Dr. Crane, have you?" Dr. Young asked, observing the scene.

Glancing back, Y/n saw the man, now identified as Dr. Crane, retreating hastily down the hallway.

"Apparently. He a quiet one?" Y/n asked, intrigued by the unusual man.

"Not at all," Dr. Young confided with a hint of amusement. "He's known for being quite outspoken and, frankly, a bit abrasive. But let's keep that between us."

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, appreciating the candid insight. Together, they proceeded into Dr. Young's office. As they delved into their tasks and discussions, the brief encounter with Dr. Crane swiftly faded from Y/n's mind.

Barely two hours had passed, with Y/n engrossed in her task of organizing files, when Dr. Young re-entered the office, fresh from her break.

"It seems you've caught the attention of Dr. Crane," Dr. Young remarked as she stepped inside.

Y/n glanced up, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Young, settling into her chair with a chuckle. "Well, in the cafeteria, Dr. Crane cam up to me out of the blue to ask about you. Considering he never engages in conversation unless it's strictly necessary, that was quite the surprise!"

Curiosity piqued, Y/n continued, "What exactly did he ask about?"

"Just your name and your role here," Dr. Young replied with a smile.

The thought of garnering anyone's interest, let alone Dr. Crane's, hadn't crossed Y/n's mind. Yet, she brushed it off, doubting it would have any significant impact on her internship.

Back at her home, Y/n found herself sprawled on her bed, engulfed in the unfamiliar territory of idleness. With Bruce sidelining her from night patrols, the once exhilarating darkness of Gotham's nights now stretched endlessly before her, filled with nothing but the quiet.

Letting out a sigh, she flung her book aside, a tangible sign of her growing restlessness. Reluctantly, she rose and drifted towards her computer, where the glow of her screen illuminated tabs of research left untouched since yesterday. Though the news articles of Scarecrow she had found offered little in the way of breakthroughs, she held onto the hope they might yet yield something of value.

It was then that a sudden thud against her window broke the silence, startling her. Turning to look, she expected to find nothing more unusual than a disoriented bird that flew into it. However, the repeated thudding suggested this was no ordinary accident.

With a sigh, Y/n approached the window to investigate. A crow was the culprit, determinedly striking the glass over and over. Attempting to shoo it away with a tap against the window proved futile, the bird was either stubborn or really dumb. About to turn away in defeat, Y/n noticed something clutched in the crow's beak, she naturally had to investigate.

Concerned it might be choking, she opened the window to offer assistance. The crow, uninvited, hopped boldly into her room and onto her bed.

"Hey! You’re gonna get my shit all dirty!" Y/n protested, trying to usher it off.

Yet the crow remained unbothered, stationed firmly on her bed. With a curious tilt of its head, it released its hold, letting the object, a piece of paper, fall onto her duvet.

Realizing the crow was unharmed, Y/n let out a sigh. "Okay, you can leave now," she suggested, gesturing towards the open window.

However, the crow remained stationary, its gaze fixed on her as if it had more to say. They stared at one another awkwardly, the air between them thick with uncertainty. The crow nudged the piece of paper with its beak, then lifted its eyes to hers, prompting her attention.

Reluctantly, Y/n shifted her focus to the paper, curiosity getting the better of her. The paper was torn and foled. She unfolded the ripped fragment to reveal a message that sent a jolt of shock through her.

'Found you.'

The simplicity of the message belied its ominous intent, transforming her initial confusion into a wave of dread. "Holy fuck," she muttered, her pulse quickening.

As if its mission was accomplished, the crow took its leave, soaring out the window. Y/n raced to the window, a futile attempt to keep it from leaving. "Oi!"

But her plea vanished into the night, leaving her to face the silence of her room. The solitude that had once been merely boring now felt ominously oppressive.

How had Scarecrow found her? The question echoed in her mind, a reminder that her sense of security was more fragile than she had ever imagined.

Y/n wasted no time in dialing Bruce's number, her fingers trembling with anxiety as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, she didn't bother with pleasantries.

"He found me," she blurted out in a tense whisper.

"Y/n? What are you talk-?" Bruce paused. “How?”

"I don't know how he did it, Bruce. There's no way he could have tracked me from that night," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable. “He sent his fucking pet crow, or something to my window with a little note saying he found me.”

"I think it would be safest for you to stay at my place for a while," Bruce suggested, his tone urgent.

"Yeah, but what if he figures out… you know?" Y/n's worry crept into her voice.

"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Bruce asked, his concern evident.

Y/n's mind raced, but she couldn't think of any safe alternatives. "Not really," she admitted reluctantly.

"Okay, just stay safe. I'll be checking up on you," Bruce instructed firmly.

"I'll do my best," Y/n sighed, feeling a sense of dread settle over her as the call ended.

She dropped her phone on her bed along with herself. Sitting on her bed, she ran her hand down her face groaning. She just prayed he was as nice as he was the night before.

The next day, Y/n felt a sense of unease as she walked through the corridors of Arkham towards Dr. Young's office. Upon entering, she was met not only by Dr. Young, but also by the presence of Dr. Crane.

"Good morning, Y/n. I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Crane by now," Dr. Young gestured towards the man in the room.

Y/n nodded awkwardly, turning her attention to Dr. Crane. "Hello, Dr. Crane," she greeted, extending her hand for a shake.

"Miss L/n," he replied, his voice crisp and professional as he took her hand.

There was something strangely familiar about his touch, though Y/n couldn't quite place it. Brushing it off as mere coincidence, she focused on the conversation at hand.

"Well, we've decided to switch things up a bit and provide you with more opportunities around the asylum. Today, Dr. Crane has kindly offered to mentor you instead of me," Dr. Young explained.

Y/n nodded, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh... cool," she replied, though her uncertainty lingered beneath the surface.

"My work primarily focuses on the higher-risk patients, so today I'll be showing you around those areas of the asylum," Dr. Crane explained, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Alright, shall we get started?" Y/n asked, eager to begin.

"Certainly," Dr. Crane replied, opening the door for Y/n to exit first. She thanked him and stepped into the hallway, where Dr. Crane joined her.

"So, Miss L/n, what led you to Arkham?" Dr. Crane inquired, initiating conversation.

"Well, I studied at Gotham University for five years and managed to get an internship here. It's an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Y/n replied.

Dr. Crane nodded, showing interest. "You're interested in psychology, I assume?"

"Naturally," Y/n confirmed.

"And outside of Arkham, how do you spend your time?" Dr. Crane asked, delving deeper.

Y/n wasn't prepared for such a personal question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer. In truth, much of her time was split between intensive research and her activities as a vigilante. "Uh... research mostly," she replied, keeping her answer vague.

"Any specific areas of focus?" Dr. Crane probed further.

"Primarily psychology-related topics, and occasionally delving into articles about various personalities in Gotham," Y/n answered, trying to keep her response casual.

"Ah, the Gotham Rogues, I presume? Have any in particular piqued your interest?" Dr. Crane inquired, his gaze lingering on her as they made their way towards the elevator.

Y/n had been informed by Dr. Young that small talk was rarely on Dr. Crane's agenda, suggesting his continuous questions might stem from a lack of social que. Yet, as a psychiatrist, his understanding of social dynamics should be adept, making his approach puzzling.

"Ah, well... each of them are interesting in their own way, to say the least," Y/n replied, deflecting deflecting to keep the conversation neutral.

Acknowledging her response with a nod, Dr. Crane diverted his eyes ahead, the silence momentarily enveloping them as they approached and entered the elevator. With a practiced motion, he swiped his keycard and selected their destination floor.

The elevator began its descent in silence, the hum of its mechanism filling the small space. Dr. Crane stood with a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back, while Y/n could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts swirling between them.

After a moment, Dr. Crane broke the silence. "The study of fear is particularly fascinating, don't you think?" he started, his tone measured, eyes fixed on the elevator doors as if addressing the question to himself. "It's primal, yet so complex. A fundamental emotion that can be both a hindrance and a survival mechanism."

Y/n, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's quite a paradox. It shapes so much of human behavior, yet we understand so little about its underpinnings."

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the high-risk patient floor. As the doors slid open, Dr. Crane stepped out, gesturing for Y/n to follow. "Indeed. And it's within these walls that fear becomes a canvas, each patient painting their own portrait of terror."

The topic of their conversation enveloped Y/n in a sense of unease. While it was natural for a psychiatrist to delve into subjects like fear, given her recent unsettling situation, discussing it now stirred an unwelcome and deep-seated discomfort within her.

They walked through a secured door after Dr. Crane keyed in a code, entering a corridor lined with reinforced glass cells. The patients inside varied in their reactions to the newcomers, some pressed close to observe them, others retreated into shadows, and a few remained indifferent, lost in their own worlds.

"As you'll see today, our approach to treatment varies greatly, tailored to each patient's specific needs and... inclinations," Dr. Crane continued, leading Y/n past the cells. "Observation and understanding is key. Fear can be both a lock and a key in our field."

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, not just from the atmosphere of the high-risk ward but from Dr. Crane's words. They echoed with a depth of knowledge and an intensity that felt almost too personal, as if fear itself was a familiar friend to him.

As they continued their tour, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Crane was studying her just as much as he was explaining the procedures and philosophies of Arkham Asylum. There was a calculated curiosity in his gaze, a probing quality that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked through the corridor, eventually halting in front of a door.

"This," he announced, ushering the door open with a gentle push, "is my office."

Crossing into the new space, Y/n found herself standing somewhat awkwardly, uncertain of what was to come next.

"I have a few patient appointments scheduled today. You'll have the opportunity to observe. But first, there are some reports I need to deal with. I imagine you have tasks of your own to do in the meantime?" he suggested.

With a nod from Y/n, he settled into his chair behind the desk, drawing out several files and a pen. As he began to write, Y/n couldn't help but observe him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. There was an inexplicable familiarity in his presence that she couldn't quite identify.

Catching her gaze, he looked up, peering over his glasses. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. She wasn't sure if she should bring up her recent encounter with the Scarecrow, especially given Dr. Crane's interest in fear and psychology. But something about his demeanor encouraged her to speak up. She cracked it down to the fact that he was around higher risk patients at arkham so he should understand.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to alarm Dr. Crane or reveal too much about her involvement with Gotham's underworld.

"Well, actually..." she began, her voice measured. "I recently had a rather unusual encounter with someone who... operates outside the norms, let's say."

Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"There's this... guy," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Who put me in a rather diffucult situation. But instead of leaving me in trouble, this guy… helped me. He claimed that his actions were never intended to inconvenience me, but rather someone else entirely. It's all rather confusing to me."

As she spoke, Dr. Crane listened attentively, his analytical gaze fixed on her. There was a calculating intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed past it, determined to convey the essence of her experience without divulging too much.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Why do you think he wouldn’t have helped you?” he asked.

“Well this... guy... well, he’s not exactly known for his generosity,” Y/n said, choosing her words carefully.

"I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "It seems you've had quite the... encounter."

Y/n nodded, relieved that she had managed to convey the situation without revealing too many details.

“Well... what about the situation confuses you?” he asked.

“The fact that he helped me, I just don’t understand it,” Y/n said.

“Had you encountered this individual prior to that?” Dr. Crane inquired.

“Yes, and he wasn’t particularly pleasant,” Y/n replied.

“Perhaps he had a change of heart, felt remorse... or maybe you interested him in some way,” Dr. Crane suggested.

Y/n recognized that Dr. Crane might not offer much assistance, especially since her account was far from the complete truth, but she valued his perspective.

“Yeah... maybe,” she said, considering his viewpoint.

The two appointments proceeded smoothly. The first patient was a paranoid individual, tormented by incessant fears of lurking threats in the shadows. As for the second patient was a woman struggling with intense anxiety and recurring nightmares. Dr. Crane navigated through their sessions with his calmness and precision, offering insightful observations and gentle guidance.

As the day progressed, Y/n found herself drawn into the complexities of the patients' minds, witnessing firsthand the challenges they faced and the therapeutic approaches employed by Dr. Crane.

By the end of the day, Y/n felt a newfound respect for Dr. Crane's expertise and a deeper curiosity about the human psyche.

Leaving Arkham, they boarded the Akrham train heading to the city center. "I trust today has been insightful for you," Dr. Crane remarked as they found their seats.

The clatter of the train tracks provided a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation as they settled into their seats. Y/n nodded, reflecting on the day's events. "Definitely," she replied. "It's given me a lot to think about."

Dr. Crane inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Understanding the human mind is a continuous journey, filled with both challenges and revelations," he remarked. "But it's a journey worth undertaking."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing his words. As the train rumbled on, she noticed that her stop was nearing.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane. You've been a really amazing mentor today," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Dr. Crane nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. "You're welcome, Y/n. If you ever need any guidance or have any questions in the future, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone surprisingly warm.

As the train slowed to a stop at Y/n's station, she gathered her belongings and stood up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again," she said, offering a polite smile before stepping off the train.

"Have a safe walk home," Dr. Crane bid farewell as the train doors slid shut.

As she walked away from the station, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity about Dr. Crane. There was something intriguing about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rest of her day ahead.

Alone in the dark, a wave of fear washed over her. Her home was just a ten-minute walk from the station, but after receiving that ominous message yesterday, she felt more uneasy than usual.

The usual nightly weirdos on the street didn't bother her much, no, it was the thought of encountering Scarecrow that sent shivers down her spine.

As she walked, a group of guys stepped out from a dark alley, eyeing her with leering grins. "Hey, sweetheart, looking for some company?" one of them called out, his tone dripping with sleaze.

Y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed by their attempts to intimidate her. "Sorry, boys, not interested," she replied, quickening her pace.

As they closed in, Y/n sprang into action with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, she lunged towards the nearest assailant, her hands moving with precision. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground with a metallic clang.

Before the others could react, Y/n hit him with calculated strikes, each one finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. With each opponent she incapacitated, the threat diminished, until finally, all that remained was a pile of defeated adversaries at her feet.

Just as she thought the situation was under control, a familiar chill ran down her spine. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows as Scarecrow emerged from the darkness, his silhouette looming ominously. Y/n's heart raced, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as Scarecrow's gaze swept over the scene. She braced herself as the Scarecrow raised his hand, expecting the worst. Shielding her face, she awaited the inevitable assault, but instead, she heard screams erupting behind her.

Reluctantly lowering her arms, she turned to witness a man writhing on the ground, his cries echoing through the deserted street beside a discarded firearm. Her gaze snapped back to the Scarecrow, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"One missed," he remarked coolly.

“Scarecrow…” she uttered, caught between greeting him and still processing the situation.

“Y/n,” he acknowledged.

“So...you know my name now,” she remarked, her tone barely masking her worry.

“Would you prefer I call you Batgirl still?” he asked, sarcastically.

“I suppose there’s no point,” Y/n shrugged, conceding to the truth.

Observing him in the dimly lit street, she couldn't help but notice his eerie yet intriguing presence. “Nice suit,” she commented, attempting to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he replied courteously, his mask concealing any expression.

Despite his seemingly benign demeanor, she couldn't shake off her unease about his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she probed cautiously.

“Making sure you got home safely,” he responded matter-of-factly.

“You’re following me?” she questioned, her suspicion growing palpable.

“Looks that way,” he confirmed, his voice protraying no hint of emotion.

“...I’ll be off then,” she stated, turning to head back home.

His footsteps echoed behind her, prompting her to halt and face him. “You’re still here?”

"You don’t think I was just going to leave,” he remarked.

“Then can you at least not stalk behind me?” Y/n requested, her tone surprisingly composed despite her lingering unease.

Closing the distance between them, he fell into step beside her. “You know Batman might find you,” she warned.

“Not tonight, I saw him off chasing the Penguin,” he assured her.

Y/n looked ahead, contemplating their unusual companionship. “So… are you going to hurt me?” she questioned, her voice hinting her vulnerability.

“I didn’t hurt you before, why would I now?” he countered.

“Well, why else are you here?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

“It was you that said you’d ‘see me around’,” Scarecrow reminded her.

She recalled their earlier exchange, surprised that he remembered. “I didn’t think you’d remember… or care,” she admitted.

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Y/n broke it. “How did you find me?” she asked the question that was weighing on her mind since she got the note.

“It was coincidence,” Scarecrow replied cryptically.

“Seriously! That's all?” Y/n protested.

“I saw you... and gaining access to you was a simple matter after that,” he explained.

Y/n paused, contemplating the implications of his words.

“Wait, so you mean to say... Did I see you around?” Y/n's curiosity peaked.

Scarecrow's silence spoke volumes, confirming her suspicions. Y/n's mind raced, attempting to pinpoint any instance where she could have crossed paths with Scarecrow during the day, but nothing came to mind.

"You're annoying, you know that? Why can't you just tell me who you are?" Y/n pressed, frustration lacing her words.

"And give you the chance to share with your caped crusader? I think not," Scarecrow retorted with a hint of amusement in his distorted voice.

Y/n scowled, "This is bullshit. What kind of friend are you?"

"Friend?" Scarecrow echoed, a note of mock surprise in his tone.

Realizing she had referred to him as a friend, Y/n hesitated, "Well… I don’t know."

"Considering me a friend? That's rather... optimistic of you," Scarecrow jested.

"You know what? Fuck you," Y/n snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.

Scarecrow's laughter, distorted and chilling, filled the air.

"About that crow yesterday..." Y/n shifted the topic.

"Ah, yes, Craw," Scarecrow interjected.

"Craw... you named your bird after the sound it makes? What are you, five?" Y/n couldn't help but mock his choice.

"Feeling particularly bitey today, aren't we?" Scarecrow remarked with a hint of amusement.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious. You could have called him anything and you settled on 'Craw'? It's like naming a cat 'Meow' or a dog ‘Woof’," Y/n countered.

"I doubt your question was solely to critique my naming choices," Scarecrow deflected, steering the conversation forward.

"So, you have a trained crow... cool," Y/n conceded.

With a snap of his fingers, Scarecrow summoned the crow, which gracefully swooped down to perch on his shoulder.

"Fuck, that’s impressive," Y/n admitted, genuinely taken aback.

"He's a good companion," Scarecrow acknowledged, affectionately caressing the crow's feathered chest.

"And yet, when I mention friendship, I'm desperate?" Y/n teased with a scoff.

"I'm merely taken aback... You haven't even tried to call Batman on me yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Well, if he can have his criminal friend, I don't see why I shouldn't either," Y/n reasoned, thinking about Bruces weird thing with Catwomen.

"It only seems fair," Scarecrow conceded with a nod.

As they approached her apartment complex, Y/n paused and faced Scarecrow.

"I guess this is where I leave you," she remarked, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she gestured towards the looming building of her apartment complex.

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "Seems so. You'll be safe here, I presume?"

Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the question, considering who it was coming from. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for helping me back there," she quipped, offering him a small, genuine smile.

Scarecrow nodded once, sharply, as if dismissing any need for gratitude. "Take care, Y/n."

With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came, leaving Y/n to stare after him for a long moment. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it from the surreal encounter, she turned and headed towards her apartment, her mind swirling with thoughts about the night's events and the enigmatic figure that had just left her side.

The anticipation for her next encounter with Scarecrow had always been tinged with impatience, but now, there was a distinct shift in her desires. Gone was the sole focus on capturing him, instead, she found herself wanting to talk, even hang out with the guy.

Wandering the corridors of Arkham, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an exasperated shout not far from her location. “Damn bird!” echoed off the sterile walls.

Curious, Y/n turned on her heel to investigate. A large bird flying through the hallway, causing a commotion. But this was no ordinary crow, as it swooped closer, she recognized it instantly. Craw, Scarecrow's supposed good companion.

As the crow landed gracefully before her, Y/n crouched down, gently scooping him up. The security guard, panting from the chase, approached with a look of annoyance plastered across his face.

“Stupid bird,” he muttered, reaching out to snatch Craw away.

Y/n, cradling the crow protectively, assured him, “It's fine, I've got this. I'll make sure he's put outside.”

The guard, too worn out to argue further, simply shrugged and departed. Alone now, Y/n shifted her focus to Craw, who seemed quite content in her grasp.

Noticing a piece of paper held in his beak, she gently grabbed it, speaking softly to the crow, “Hey there, pretty. How did you manage to find me here?”

Placing Craw on her shoulder, she unfolded the note.

‘I’ll see you tonight.’

A smile unknowingly crept across her face as she read the message. Shortly after, Craw took flight from her shoulder, darting down the corridor.

“No! Craw, I need to take you outside!” she called after him, her plea falling on deaf ears.

With a resigned sigh, she watched him disappear deeper into the Asylum. “Well, he's someone else's problem now.”

Despite the mild chaos, the note clutched in her hand warmed her heart, igniting a flutter of excitement for what the evening might bring.

The walk home felt different for Y/n this evening. Each shadow cast by the dim streetlights seemed to promise the appearance of Scarecrow, echoing his note that said they would meet again. With every step, her anticipation grew, turning each corner with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, expecting to find him waiting in the familiar alley where their paths often crossed. But tonight, the alley remained empty.

The silence of the alleyway, usually filled with the tension of their encounters, now hung heavy with disappointment. She lingered for a moment, scanning the shadows and empty spaces where he might have stood, half-hoping for the rustle of his coat or the soft click of his approach. But there was nothing. Just the quiet of the night and the distant hum of the city.

As she continued her walk home, the excitement that had quickened her steps faded into a dull ache of letdown. Thoughts raced through her mind, pondering why he hadn't appeared. Had something happened to him? Had Batman managed to intervene?

Reaching her apartment, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of solitude that enveloped her. Inside, the quiet of her home only amplified her disappointment. With a heavy sigh, Y/n resigned herself to the evening's solitude, dropping onto her bed.

As she lay in the quiet of her room, Y/n found herself wrestling with thoughts that mocked her for entertaining the idea of a friendship with someone as complex and dangerous as Scarecrow. How could she, grounded in her own principles and duties, truly expect to build a connection with a figure who thrived in the shadows, a master of fear?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thump against her window. Startled, she glanced up, only to find the familiar silhouette of a crow striking the glass. Hurrying over, she opened the window, allowing Craw to flutter into the room. Peering out the window, her pulse quickened at the sight below.

Scarecrow stood on the ground, gazing up at her with his usual get-up.

"May I come up?" his voice floated up to her.

Without hesitation, she swung onto the fire escape, releasing the ladder for him. As he ascended, a mixture of surprise and anticipation filled her.

"Why are you here?" she inquired, as he stepped through the window into her room.

"I said I'd see you tonight," he replied.

"I thought you’d just walk me home," she admitted, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"Indeed, I intended to, but I was held up," Scarecrow said, his voice carrying a touch of regret.

Inside her room, with the city's night as their backdrop, she couldn't help but jest, "So, the man behind the mask has a life?"

Scarecrow chuckled below the mask, “That I do.”

Now settled in her room, Y/n found a comfortable spot on her bed, her back resting gently against the headboard.

With a curious tilt of her head, she ventured, "Could I possibly hear more about the man beneath the mask?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I was caught up at work, actual work, something that required my immediate attention."

This prompted Y/n to recall her little interaction with his crow eariler. "Speaking of work, how did you manage to send Craw into Arkham?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's just say he found his way through a window," he replied,criptically.

Scarecrow chose a spot at the foot of her bed, directly opposite her, and gracefully seated himself. Craw saw it as an opportunity to hopped onto his thigh, finding comfort in his familiar presence.

As they sat in Y/n's room, the silence between them was palpable. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Curiosity, apprehension, and a strange sense of comfort in Scarecrow's presence. She studied him closely, trying to decipher the man, but his expression remained hidden.

"So, what really brings you here tonight?" Y/n finally broke the silence, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Scarecrow glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to check on you," he replied simply.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions. "Check on me?" she echoed, searching his face for any hint of deception.

"Yes," Scarecrow affirmed, his tone unwavering. "After our encounter the other night, I thought I should make sure you're okay."

Y/n's initial skepticism softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Despite their strange relationship, Scarecrow's concern for her well-being was unexpected.

"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, offering a small smile. "But why go through the trouble? You're not exactly known for your kindness."

Scarecrow's lips quirked into a faint smile, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Perhaps I'm not as one-dimensional as you think," he remarked.

Y/n's curiosity piqued at his response, but before she could delve further, there was a sudden knock on her apartment door.

“Y/n? I called you but you didn’t answer,” it was Bruce.

The sudden interruption sent Y/n's heart racing, a surge of panic flooding her as she heard Bruce's voice through the door. She momentarily froze, realizing the difficult situation she was in. Glancing frantically at Scarecrow, she leaped into action, her movements swift and desperate.

"Under the bed, now!" she hissed, urgency lacing her whisper as she practically shoved Scarecrow towards the hiding spot.

Without hesitation, Scarecrow complied, slipping under the bed. No sooner had he vanished from sight than Y/n dashed to the apartment's entrance, her mind racing with excuses.

"Hey, Bruce, sorry about that. My phone's been on silent, what’s up?" she managed to say with a feigned nonchalance as she swung the door open, greeting him with a practiced casualness.

"I said I'd swing by to check on you. Everything's been okay lately?" Bruce asked, stepping past the threshold with a concerned glance.

"Yep, all good here," Y/n replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Y/n found herself desperately seeking a solution that wouldn't raise Bruce's suspicions, yet every moment he lingered increased the risk of Scarecrow's presence unmasking Bruce's own secret identity. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, she was at a loss, her mind racing for a strategy that seemed increasingly elusive.

Then, an ominous thump from her bedroom shattered the tense silence, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.

"What was that?" Bruce's voice sharpened with alertness, his instinctive concern prompting him to move toward the source of the sound.

Y/n's anxiety reached it’s limits until, unexpectedly, a voice came from her bedroom. "Y/n? Who's at the door?" It was unmistakably Scarecrow, yet his voice was stripped of its usual menacing distortion, sounding disarmingly normal.

Panic painted Y/n's face with a stark shade of horror, a silent scream at the realization of her rapidly unraveling situation. However, Bruce's reaction took a turn Y/n hadn't anticipated. His expression, initially furrowed with concern, smoothly transitioned into an amused smirk.

"I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave you to your...guest," he said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lightness.

In that moment, Y/n's dread shifted to a baffling sense of relief to mild embarrassment. The flush of embarrassment that crept up Y/n's cheeks. The implication in Bruce's assumption that her "guest" was there for reasons more intimate was mortifying, yet it was a far more palatable scenario than him suspecting the presence of a notorious criminal in her bedroom.

"U-uh, yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice a mix of awkwardness and gratitude as she escorted Bruce to the door.

Pausing at the threshold, Bruce turned back to her, his expression lightly amused. "Have a good night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of jest before he delivered a playful wink and departed.

As Y/n closed the door behind him, a wave of relief washed over her, tinged with a lingering embarrassment. As Y/n reentered her bedroom, her gaze fell upon Craw, who had perched on the shelf by her door.

"Are you still hiding under my bed?" she asked, her knees pressing against the cool floor as she peered under the bed.

There he was, Scarecrow, his frame stretched out beneath her bed, an unexpected sight that was oddly endearing. "Yeah," came his muffled reply.

"It's safe to come out now," she assured him, her voice lifting with a mix of relief and warmth.

As Scarecrow emerged, his presence seemed to fill the room. "What was that thumping sound?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Craw decided the door looked interesting," Scarecrow quipped, a hint of affection for the mischief-maker in his tone.

Y/n's eyes darted to Craw, her expression one of mock frustration. "You bloody bird!" she growled, though the crow seemed preoccupied with scratching his wing with his beak.

"And thank you, by the way. My heart nearly stopped when he headed towards my room," she admitted, her hands finding their way to her hips.

"Who was that, if I may ask?" Scarecrow's curiosity was evident, his head tilted.

"A friend," she answered simply.

"Just a friend?" he probed further, an edge of something playful in his voice.

"Jealous?" Y/n teased, a light chuckle escaping her.

"Should I be?" he parried, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/n's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "Bruce is just a friend. Though now he probably thinks I've got a secret lover stashed in here," she said, the humor in her situation not lost on her.

"Bruce? As in-" Scarecrow started, only for Y/n to jump in.

"Bruce Wayne? Yes," she confirmed, closing the loop on his thought.

"I would've expected the Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he mused, his voice carrying a note of mock disappointment.

"Batman wouldn’t bother with the front door, that’s for sure," Y/n laughed.

Y/n chuckled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her bedspread. "So, did you... you know, take off the mask when you called out?" she asked.

Scarecrow's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, yeah. I don’t know if you can tell, but my voice isn’t naturally distorted," he pointed out.

Y/n's playful pout betrayed her teasing tone. "That's not fair! My room got to see your face before I did!" she exclaimed, feigning offense.

"Your room is quite the lucky spectator," he remarked, his tone filled with amusement.

"I bet you won’t show me cause you’re insecure," Y/n teased with a playful glint in her eye.

Scarecrow tilted his head. "Or perhaps I prefer the mystery. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fabric covering his features.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "Interesting for you, maybe. I'm just sitting here guessing if you're secretly a model or if you've got a face only a mother could love."

"Guess you'll just have to keep wondering," he replied.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft rustling of Craw shifting on his perch. Y/n found herself studying Scarecrow, trying to glean any hint of the man behind the mask from his posture, his movements, even the way he spoke. There was an undeniable curiosity bubbling within her, a desire to know more about the mysterious figure who'd become an unexpected constant in her life.

As the night wore on, their conversation flowed, ranging from trivial banter to more serious discussions about their contrasting views of the city they both operated in. Despite their differences, Y/n felt a strange sense of kinship with Scarecrow, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Eventually, Y/n yawned, the lateness of the hour catching up to her. Scarecrow noticed, standing up from where he had been sitting. "I should go," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.

Y/n nodded, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. "Yeah, I guess it's getting late."

As Scarecrow moved toward the window, Y/n called out, "Will I see you again?"

He paused at the window, turning slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you will," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

And with that, he slipped out into the night with Craw flying after him, leaving Y/n with a mix of emotions and the lingering thrill of their conversation.

After two calm weeks, Bruce finally agreed to Y/n resuming her nightly endeavors alongside him. Although he harbored lingering doubts about Scarecrow, Y/n managed to clam his concerns, assuring him that Scarecrow would not pose a threat.

As Y/n and Batman moved stealthily through the Narrows, the dense fog seemed to cloak their presence further, blending them into the night. This part of Gotham, with its tight alleys and towering buildings, felt like a world entirely its own.

"Keep your guard up," Batman whispered, his voice barely carrying over the mist. "The Narrows are unpredictable."

Y/n nodded, her senses on high alert. The Narrows always had a way of keeping you on your toes, its residents too used to the shadows. But tonight, there was an odd stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.

Suddenly, Batman stiffened, his head tilting slightly, the universal sign that he was receiving a communication through the cowl's integrated comms. Y/n watched him, waiting for instructions, knowing that whatever had just come through could very well dictate their next move.

After a moment, Batman turned to her, the glow from the city behind him casting a shadow over his face. "Riddler's causing trouble downtown. I need to go now."

"I'll stay here. Keep an eye on things," she offered, already mentally preparing to handle the Narrows alone.

Batman nodded, a silent message of trust and confidence in her abilities. "Be careful," he said before grappling away, disappearing into the night sky.

Alone now, Y/n felt the weight of the silence around her. The Narrows, with its whispering shadows and secrets, suddenly seemed even more foreboding. She took a deep breath, centering herself. This was her domain too, her responsibility.

"Thought he’d never leave," came a voice below her, drawing her attention downward.

As Y/n leaned over the edge of the rooftop. To her surprise, Scarecrow stood on the balcony below, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights.

"You've been here the whole time?" Y/n exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance.

"I've been waiting inside. The place was abandoned," Scarecrow replied calmly, gesturing towards the building behind him.

Y/n hopped down from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the balcony beside him.

"Wow, Batman and I need to step up our game," she remarked, impressed by Scarecrow's stealth.

"Haven’t seen you as Batgirl in a while," Scarecrow noted, his gaze lingering on her.

"Yeah, thanks to you. I was sidelined. Batman thought you were gonna go after me," Y/n explained, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Keeping you safe. Wise man," Scarecrow replied cryptically, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "More like overprotective," she whined.

Y/n could hear Scarecrow smirk behind the mask. "He has reason to be. You're not exactly easy to replace."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased.

"Where's Craw?" Y/n asked, looking around.

"Is my presence not enough for you?" Scarecrow teased.

Y/n side-eyed him, and Scarecrow chuckled. "He's back at my lab."

Scarecrow leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze scanning the darkened streets below. "So, what's the plan now? Are you patrolling solo?"

Y/n nodded. "Looks like it. Batman got called away to deal with Riddler downtown."

Scarecrow hummed in response. "Well then, I guess it's just you and me tonight."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You planning on causing any trouble?"

Scarecrow chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

They fell into an easy silence, the sounds of the city filling the air around them. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Scarecrow, an unexpected ally in the night.

Y/n cast a sidelong glance at Scarecrow, noting the unusual cleanliness of his attire. "Not the usual tattered suit?" she pointed out.

Scarecrow glanced down at his suit. "Well, one has to look clean to impress," he replied, glazing at her.

"I'm sure Batman doesn't mind how you look," Y/n quipped, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/n leaned her back against the balcony railing, her gaze meeting Scarecrow's with a hint of mischief.

"Although, I must admit, the rugged look suits you," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a spark of amusement. "Is that so? Perhaps I should stick to the tattered aesthetic then," he countered, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

Y/n's laughter rang out across the night sky, the sound mixing with the distant hum of the city below. "You do you, Scarecrow. Just don't expect me to swoon over every torn thread," she replied, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.

Scarecrow leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Ah, but what if I told you I have a whole wardrobe of tattered suits just waiting to impress you?"

Y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the playful tone in Scarecrow's voice. "Just for me? Scandalous.”

"Well, if torn threads won't do the trick, I'll have to find another way to catch your eye." Scarecrow added.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? And what approach are you planning to take?"

He leaned in even closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I suppose I'll have to rely on my charming wit and irresistible charm," he replied, his tone filled with playful confidence.

Y/n chuckled, the sound light and melodious in the night air. "Smooth talker, are we?" she teased, her own playful demeanor matching his.

Scarecrow's grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Only when I'm in good company," he admitted, his voice softening slightly as he held her gaze.

Y/n's cheeks flushed at his words, her gaze lingering on his captivating eyes. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl," she teased, unable to suppress the flutter of excitement building within her.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through Y/n. "Only because you make it so easy," he murmured, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

"If I weren't on duty, I might have been tempted to steal a kiss from you right here," she teased, her fingers playfully tugging at his noose.

With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the abandoned apartment, leaving Scarecrow to ponder her words.

"You never know, the night is young," he remarked, his voice laced with playful innuendo.

"Oh, but I could never kiss a man whose face I've never seen," Y/n remarked.

"Oh, but the mystery adds to the allure, don't you think?" Scarecrow countered.

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. "Who says you haven't seen it before?"

Y/n halted in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned back to face him.

"So, I have actually seen you before?" she asked eagerly.

Scarecrow nodded, a hint of amusement in his demeanor. "Yes, indeed," he confirmed.

Her excitement grew, and she leaned in closer. "Did we talk?" she pressed.

"We did," he replied, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Her disbelief turned into sheer astonishment. "Oh my god! Seriously? Can you tell me more?" she exclaimed.

"We had quite a conversation, and we crossed paths a few times afterward," Scarecrow disclosed.

Y/n racked her brain, trying to recall any details, but she was drawing a blank. Feeling frustrated and a little foolish for not making the connection, she sighed. Despite now knowing what he sounded like without the mask, she still couldn't piece it together.

"Holy fuck! That's incredible!" Y/n exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from within her. "Can you give me just a tiny hint about what you look like?" Y/n pleaded.

"Sorry, but that would spoil the fun," Scarecrow replied.

Y/n persisted, "Well, do you at least know if I find you attractive?"

"Why do you want to know that?" Scarecrow questioned.

"Because it might have to kiss you after all," Y/n teased.

Scarecrow considered her words before responding, "...I don’t know. You didn't seem particularly impressed when you saw me, you were just a bit awkward at first. But to be fair, so was I."

There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, though Y/n couldn't be sure. "Perhaps my awkwardness was due to the fact I was starstruck?" she offered playfully.

Scarecrow sounded unconvinced. "Unlikely," he countered gently.

"Or… could it be because my attention was already captivated by someone else? Maybe a certain Scarecrow?" Y/n teased, aiming to lighten his spirits.

Scarecrow's demeanor shifted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "Why the sudden interest, Batgirl? You've never shown any feelings towards me before. What's changed?" he asked.

Y/n found herself confused by the unfolding situation. When had she begun to flirt with Scarecrow, and why was she so invested in making him believe she was romantically interested? Whenever this change occurred, she didn’t mind it.

"Woah. You started this, and don't act as if you weren't flirting with me too," Y/n retorted.

Scarecrow's tone never softened, his eyes narrowing as he studied Y/n's face. "And if I was? What are your intentions, Y/n?" he asked.

"I don’t know! I was just bantering, playing along… what were your intentions then? How do I know you're not just leading me on so you can gas me again?" Y/n retorted, turning the tables on him.

This clearly offended Scarecrow. "You know it was an accident."

"Do I?" Y/n challenged.

Scarecrow's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. "I know," she replied softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Eventually, Y/n spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Look, I didn't mean to upset you," Y/n said, her tone sincere.

Scarecrow took a deep breath, visible even through his attire. "And I apologize if I seemed defensive. It wasn't my intention."

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Both were treading uncharted waters, neither sure of where the current would take them but willing to navigate it together.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Y/n began, again with the playfulness in her voice, "do you wear contacts?"

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, "Prescription ones, yes."

"But not colored?" she probed further.

"No, why do you ask?" Scarecrow's response carried a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/n's tone softened, warmth seeping into her words, "It's just that... you have really pretty eyes."

"Again with the flattery?" Scarecrow teased.

"It's just the truth," Y/n replied with a grin.

"And here I was thinking I might get a kiss," Scarecrow joked.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "I told you, I’m not going to kiss a man I don’t know."

Scarecrow shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "That’s a shame."

The distant wail of sirens interrupted their banter.

"I should probably leave now," Scarecrow remarked.

"Yeah… see you later?" Y/n said, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Count on it. Until then... See you at Arkham," Scarecrow said, disappearing into the night.

Y/n's mind raced to piece together the puzzle he had inadvertently presented her. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, her heart skipped a beat.

"Wait a minute!" she called out, but it was futile, Scarecrow was already gone.

Her mind buzzed with newfound clarity. Tall, lanky, formal speech, glasses, and now, a connection to Arkham. It all clicked into place with a sudden jolt of realization. How had she not seen it before?

"Holy fuck," Y/n breathed, her pulse quickening.

The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Scarecrow... was someone from Arkham. And in that moment, a single name echoed in her mind with chilling clarity.

The conversations they'd shared, the topics they'd discussed, all pointed to one undeniable truth. His fascination with fear, his strange approach to their encounters, it was all too familiar now.

The memory of their first meeting flooded back, and suddenly, it made perfect sense. The shock on his face, the careful choice of words. It was Dr. Crane, right before her eyes.

Y/n couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. How had she missed the signs? How had she not recognized the man behind the mask all along?

Now faced with this newfound knowledge, Y/n was at a crossroads. Should she maintain the facade of ignorance, carrying on as if nothing had changed? Or should she confront Dr. Crane, acknowledging the truth that lay between them? And what about the promise she'd made, the playful banter about kissing him. Was it all just a game, or did it hold deeper significance now?

One thing was certain, she couldn't risk revealing her discovery to Bruce. As she grappled with these thoughts, Y/n resolved to tread carefully, to navigate this delicate situation with caution. The truth had been revealed, but its aftermath remained to be seen.

Throughout the morning, Y/n felt restless as she awaited her encounter with Dr. Crane. Stuck in Dr. Young's office sorting files, she impatiently waited for the opportunity to find him.

As soon as she finished with the files, Y/n swiftly stored them away and left the office, determined to seek out Dr. Crane in the secure section of Arkham.

As Y/n made her way through the corridors of Arkham, her mind raced with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, hoping to confront Dr. Crane. Suddenly, she spotted him in the distance, his figure unmistakable amidst the gloom. Their eyes locked, and she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knew she was coming.

Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of determination, Y/n hastened her steps, closing the gap between them with purpose. As she reached Dr. Crane, she grabbed his arm firmly, surprising him with her sudden boldness. His smirk widened slightly, betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity at her actions.

Without uttering a word, Y/n tugged him along, leading him towards his office. Dr. Crane offered little resistance, seemingly taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness. As they entered the office, Y/n swiftly closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.

"You sly motherfucker," Y/n breathed out.

Entwining her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer, her lips crashing against his in a fiery embrace. The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions, fueled by pent-up desire and the thrill of discovery.

Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden boldness, Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the intoxicating allure of her kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped them both.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private universe of passion and longing. But as the kiss deepened, an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment, reminding them of their surroundings.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Y/n and Dr. Crane gazed into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise and desire reflected in their expressions.

"I... I didn't expect..." Dr. Crane began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n's heart raced as she searched his eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation. But instead, she found a spark of something else, a glimmer of longing and vulnerability that mirrored her own.

"I'm sorry," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I just couldn't resist."

She noticed a blush creeping up Dr. Crane’s cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.

"Am I fogging up your glasses?" Y/n teased.

Dr. Crane chuckled nervously. "Not disappointed, I see," he replied, his tone unable to hide his embarrassment.

Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, I could never be disappointed in my Scarecrow," she said, her words filled with warmth.

Dr. Crane's blush deepened at the endearing nickname, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I hope you don't go around kissing all your superiors," he joked, attempting to deflect the attention.

Y/n grinned mischievously. "Just you, Dr. Crane," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Dr. Crane's lips curled into a soft smile at her response. "Seeing as circumstances change, you can call me Jonathan," he offered, his voice tinged with newfound intimacy.

"Well, Jonathan… I'm glad to finally know the man behind the mask," Y/n said with a smile.

"You better not go off telling your bat friend about this," Jonathan warned playfully.

"And lose my nighttime companion? No way," Y/n retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Jonathan chuckled at her response. Y/n’s eyes drifted to the closed office door.

“We should probably be getting back to work now," Y/n said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"We should, yes..." Jonathan began, his gaze lingering on her. "But I've never been one to follow the rules too closely," he added, drawing her closer into his embrace.

Y/n chuckled softly, realizing she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon. With a smile on her lips and a newfound connection in her heart, Y/n embraced the unpredictable journey ahead, knowing that whatever was between them was going to be complicated. But as Jonathan's lips met hers once more, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, realizing that wouldn’t want it any other way.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request 💚 I really did enjoy writing this fic, enemies hit differently when it's in superhero fics and I love it. Even with the fic being 15k long, I wasn't sure how to make them 'lovers', so I ended up just making them playfully flirt and just turn it into real attraction cause...slay. So yeah, it's a bit fast paced but I am still happy with what I've written and I hope yous are too :) It took me quite a while to write as I've just been so busy with Uni and work lately, finding time between has been difficult. Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed 💚

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