#this fic made my heart beat ten times faster

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter 6: Pink Camellias - Longing For You

Summary: Andy stops by on a particularly stressful day, and a different favorite customer gives you a bit of a rude awakening.

Word Count: 2442

Author's Note: Hey my lovelies! Thank you all so much for the positive feedback I've received from so many of you since the last chapter. Enjoy this chapter, this one and the next one are going to be on the shorter side to prepare for an upcoming behemoth i have planned ;)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @wub-wub-wub-wub-wub @padfootblackswh0r3 @axel-the-boy-witch

fic under the cut <3

So far, your day was terrible, which meant it was on par with the rest of your week.

Everything you had detailed on that late night phone call to Andy a few weeks ago had only gotten worse. The date for foreclosure was slowly approaching, your debt nearly canceled out by the sheer amount of customers you were getting recently. You could only imagine it had just become an online trend to… be nice to your partner? Whatever the incentive was, it was helping out the business, but not so much your wallet.

You often brought your frustrations to Andy, and he was so supportive it made your heart ache. Even though he’d explicitly stated often that it was completely fine for you to vent to him like this, you apologized profusely every time. This is how talking to him would start, though after a few minutes they diverged to a million other topics.

This was exactly the kind of conversation you were planning on having when he visited you today. And you couldn't wait. A countdown of the seconds until he walked in was playing in your brain.

One, two, three.

You needed the break from your life that talking to Andy offered you.

_Four, five, six._

You craved the stability, how even if your life was crumbling before you, you would always be able to find him in the rubble.

Seven, eight, nine.

He wasn't your sole motivator to keep going, but he definitely helped.

Ten—

"Hey there.”

Uncharacteristically perfect timing.

You pulled your attention away from the clock on the wall to catch your first glimpse of him for the day. For the first time since you’d met him, he was wearing a hat, a black baseball cap with some logo on it you didn't recognize. His hair was tied back into a bun. Though he had his attempts at being stylish from time to time, today was not one of them, his zip-up hoodie and jeans making it evident that today was not a day where he felt like trying. Maybe he was having as crappy of a day as you were. Just in case he was, you greeted him with more enthusiasm in your voice than usual.

“Hi! How's it going?”

“Pretty alright, actually,” he started, before continuing his sentence with a question that seemed to give you a headache simply by hearing it. “How are you?”

You sighed before you spoke, grimacing just at the thought of your emotions.

“I am so stressed that talking about how stressed I am will only make me more stressed. I need a change of pace. And topic.”

He picked up what you were putting down immediately, something that had become almost like second nature to him. A good distraction.

“There was something I’ve been meaning to ask you, now that you've reminded me.”

Oh no.

The thoughts of what he could possibly have to ask you began to cloud your mind, and some of the various possibilities made your heart beat much faster than it should. When he started so say something again, there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. Unusual for you, since you’d grown so accustomed to him being more confident in your presence, but you let him speak.

“So… ehm… my birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks. To celebrate, some of my friends and I are gonna go to the pub and I was wondering if you'd like to come along.”

To say you were relieved was an understatement. The wide smile on your face was an answer in itself, but you responded anyway.

“Andy, I’d love to.”

“Great! Grand. I’ll mark you down as saying ‘yes’.”

“There’s no way I’d say no. Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

A smile, almost the same as your own, grew on his lips.

“By the way, this will be a genuine get-together. You’ll get to meet some of my other friends, as well.”

You feigned shock.

“So it's not just me and this Alex fellow you talk about?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, I do have more than just two friends.”

You both let out your own laughs, almost in unison with one another. To be joking around with someone you trusted and kept so close… for a moment, it helped you believe everything was alright.

“I’m excited to celebrate with everyone,” you said, sincerity returning to your tone. “Get ready for a present for the ages. For the history books, even.”

He shook his head in denial, stopping your excitement in its tracks.

“Y/N, you don't have to get me anything . I’m a grown man, I’ll live if I don't get a birthday present.”

“Well, I’m a grown woman and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't get you anything. So let me-”

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the bell above the door ringing.

You peeked behind him at who had just walked in. You had to look down to meet her gaze, and when you realized you recognized her weathered face, you smiled.

“Violet! Great to see you! I’ll be right with you.”

Andy tilted his head at your exclamation.

“Violet?”

“Remember when I said you were tied for the title of my favorite customer with a little old lady? I wasn't joking. Meet your competitor.”

You watched as he looked over his shoulder, his head turning to be met with a small, older woman with gray hair and possibly the warmest smile you’d ever seen. Clutching onto purse with one hand like her life depended on it, she gave him a small wave.

“I think I’ll shut myself up for now. You have actual clients to get to.”

“Alright. I’ll come by your work tomorrow. Oh, and about your birthday. Just text me the time and the address and I’ll be there. With an amazing present because you can't stop me.”

A small smile, the kind that barely showed his teeth, spread across his face.

“Thank you. I will see you then.”

He waved goodbye, and you could’ve sworn you saw ink smudged on the side of his hands.

Both of you watched as he left, though with different intentions behind your gazes. You pulled your eyes away when he left, almost afraid to keep your gaze on him. Violet's eyes, however, seemed to linger, from shock more than anything else. Once he was out of both of your fields of vision, you returned to facing each other.

Violet had become part of your routine, and you slowly became part of each other's lives. Every time she came in, she talked to you about anything on her mind. Yet for the chatterbox that she was, she managed to be an enigma for you. She came in monthly, on the first day of the month, always ordering flowers as a centerpiece for when her “group of ladies” came around. You couldn't tell if she was in a book club or a coven, but neither answer would surprise you. In as sweet a tone as ever, she initiated your conversation.

“I’ve been here a thousand times, but I don't think I’ve ever seen that man before. Who was that?”

“Oh, that's Andy. He's my…”

You couldn't quite find the words to complete that sentence. Andy was your friend, obviously, but the word felt so odd, almost bitter on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. To save yourself any pain, you tiptoed around it.

“He works at the tattoo parlor a few blocks away. He visits me sometimes.”

“He seems like such a sweet young man.”

“He is! He really is.” You nodded.

Violet, despite her years of living and likely unlimited wisdom, found nothing wrong with her next sentence.

“I don't mean to pry, but I had no idea you were dating someone! How long have you two been together?"

Your eyes widened so much you were afraid they would pop out of your skull. What in the world could have made her ask that? Why did your palms get so clammy? Had someone turned up the heat?

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “No, no, no. Andrew and I… we aren't dating. We're just friends.”

The older woman raised a quizzical brow, as if she didn't believe you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Violet. I’d know if I was in a relationship.”

“Then, is he sure?”

“He's sure. too. We're not dating. We're friends. Friends.”

Were you trying to convince her or yourself?

She shook her head, accompanied by a tsk, tsk, tsk.

“What is it?”

“Dear, I’ve been around for… I’m not even sure how many years. I know a look filled with love when I see it. And the way that boy looks at you is the same look I’ve seen in loves that last lifetimes. It's the same look my wife gives me every single day. One of you should do something about that look.”

Her thorough analysis left you stunned. You attempted to put the pieces together in your brain, trying to mask your confusion as you did so.

“I’d never noticed that before.”

“Youth is wasted on the young. What’s the point of eyesight if you're not going to use it?”

You chuckled at that, though you also used it as a way to ignore the truth behind the statement. Did he look at you a certain way? Were you so deep into your oblivion that you just never noticed before? Or so deep into your own infatuation, too busy staring at him through your own eyes, to pay attention to how you might look through his? With all your newfound. overthinking all you could do was reply with a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you for that. I appreciate the advice.”

Violet was capricious in her conversation, easily distracted if you could get her back on the right track. In this moment, you utilized her fickleness to steer her back on track. Or at least, get the conversation back on the track you were comfortable with.

“Do you have a bouquet request?”

She thought for a moment, giving you a slow nod before she verbalized her answer.

“Well, it is starting to be spring time, and the girls and I just finished reading a Jane Austen novel, so love is in the air. Maybe focus on pink. I’ll let you handle the rest. I’ll be back later on to pick it up."

She placed the same vase she used monthly on the counter. It bounced back and forth between you two, exchanged each time you created a new arrangement. The only thing that changed was the color of the bow on the exterior.

“Sounds like a plan. Have a lovely day.”

“You too, dear.”

One last warm smile crossed her face before she went to leave. She shuffled her way out the door, leaving you room to get started.

Violet’s lenient instructions were perfect; it gave you a guideline, but mostly the creative control was in your hands. The only thing you had to keep in mind was pink.

The first idea your mind went to was pink camellias. They were in season, and with spring on the horizon, they were perfect. And you couldn't turn down adding them in when their meaning was so poetic. Longing for you. It tugged at your heartstrings just to think about it — how people from hundreds of years ago felt the same emotions, the same deep want or need for a person, as people do today. A feeling so strong they couldn't put it in words, or didn't trust themselves to say it. So they let a flower take its place.

Pink camellias had to be the focus.

Using the vase Violet had left behind, you worked the rest of your suggestions, mixing and matching until both beauty and semantics aligned. Pink roses, perfect happiness. Magenta zinnia, lasting affection. Mix in some white carnations for sweetness and innocence to break it up, and it was finished. The ladies were sure to love it, whether they were casting a spell or reading Jane Eyre.

For the first time in a few days, you wanted to feel calm. You had been too many things going on in your life for you to focus on being present.

There was so much stress looming over you recently. You were unsure just how much longer you would have your place of work. Your family and your friends all seemingly wanted you to be more ahead in your life than you were. You had a huge, almost debilitating crush on Andy, and he probably didn't reciprocate.

Andy. He had been there for you whenever you need to talk about all that was on your mind, his kindness never wavering. Even though he was receptive to you, there was still a sense of guilt for spilling your guts to him like that. You were there for him as well, of course, though he didn't have as many complaints about his daily life as you did. All his kindness and his attention only made you like him even more, only making you more nervous and stressed about liking him. It was a downward spiral, and an exceedingly dizzying one at that.

The flower shop was the only refuge you could have. When you weren't in a state of worry over orders or foreclosure, it was the part of your day that provided you the most comfort. You had the opportunity to make these beautiful works and showcase your creativity and here you were, taking it for granted. You needed to ground yourself, to take a breather, to be in the moment.

So in your moment of desperation, you turned to your flowers for comfort.

Being so exposed to the scent of the flowers every day for years meant you got used to them over time. You slowly got accustomed until you eventually couldn't even detect the unique aroma of your workplace.

You took a pause, and leaning over the arrangement, you took a deep breath.

You had literally stopped to smell the roses.

The more shocking part was that it worked. You had successfully grounded yourself by stopping to appreciate your surroundings. Surely that had to be a metaphor for something.

You were snapped out of your tranquility. Of course you were.

You heard a voice, slightly judgmental and maybe a bit concerned, from the other side of the room.

“What was that?”

You perked up at the sound of the bell above the door, and quickly pulled yourself away from the flowers.

“Nothing! How can I help you?”

[kvrokasaa]

omg i was js thinking abt timeskip kaiser, a renowed pro football player, attending some celebrity event and seeing his mother there SKDJEK 🫨 can you plspls make it a short angsty(?) story w a happy ending pls our boy deserves it :(

take care <3

I tried to make it as angsty as I could, but I probably just made a comfort fic, I'm sorry!

Cw: mention of food, mentions of mother's leaving, kaiser being sad, crying, comfort, angst(?), happy ending, comforting kaiser helps cope with the recent chapter :(, not proofread, 1.5k words

“I seriously don’t know how you do it,” you whisper over to Kaiser, your voice trailing off to a quiet giggle. A smile reaches his face when he hears your giggle, you never fail to brighten his mood. “Do what, meine liebe?” He questions, the pet name rolls off his tongue with such ease, that you’re sure he practices saying it every day.

“I don’t know how you manage to attend these events and functions all the time. It’s my first time and it’s so tiring already,” you hum, grabbing a strawberry covered in chocolate. “At least there’s good food,” you finish. 

Kaiser snorts quietly. That’s what got you to come in the first place. He almost begged you to come with him, but every time he asked he was met with your quick ‘no.’ So, like the man he is, he went to underhanded tactics. He promised to get you good food, and promised that there’ll be really good food there.

You’re thankful that he didn’t lie.

“It’s about keeping up with appearances, meine liebe.” His arm circles around your waist when he sees some nobody looking at you with obvious intentions. “Do you think if I didn’t blow so much money on these stupid things people would still respect me? No. I have to come to these to show people that I’m richer and better than they will ever be.” You almost wanted to roll your eyes. But would it really be Kaiser if he didn’t say something super egotistical?

He chuckles when he sees how close you are to rolling your eyes. Although most of his words were false, some of them were true. If he didn’t come to these and spend so much money, people would not respect him. The world truly is in his hands.

“Okay you goof, I have to use the restroom,” you pressed your hands against his chest as you raised yourself onto your tiptoes. “Make sure to stuff some of that food into my purse when I’m gone.” You joked.

Kaiser followed you with his eyes while you walked to the end of the ridiculously big room for the bathroom. His eyes show everything, especially his love and adoration for you. He laughs a little as he turns his attention back to the speaker. 

But something catches his eye. A slightly tall woman, with blond hair but almost gray now, no. That’s not what makes Kaiser freeze in his spot, that’s not what makes his heart beat ten times faster. It’s the unmistakable red eyeliner. 

Anyone could apply red eyeliner, he tries to reason with himself. Kaiser tries his best to divert his attention back to the speaker, but his eyes cannot seem to leave the woman. His gaze must have alerted the woman because the next second she is looking around for the person.

And when her eyes fall on him, he immediately panics. No way in hell. She can not be here. He must be hallucinating or something. He needs air, fresh air. Why can’t he breathe? 

Kaiser leaves the mansion as quickly as possible, trying to get away from the stuffy crowd. But just his luck, she follows him out. 

“My son, I have been looking for you.”

You leave the bathroom, with your disgust intensified. Why are rich people so weird? Couldn’t that couple have gone home? Who in their right mind would be doing that during a fundraiser? 

A sigh escapes your lips as you make your way to the crowd, ready to tell Kaiser what you just witnessed. 

But when you get back to the table of food, he’s gone. You swear that he wouldn’t just leave you, and he would’ve texted you if he moved somewhere else. Maybe he had gone to the restroom too?

After searching for a little, you end up spotting his blonde and blue hair. But you see a person standing if front of him and he isn’t moving at all. Your brows furrow in a quizzical manner, who is that?

“No.” You hear him say, it was more of a demand than anything. “You’re lying.” The woman in front of him shakes her head, a soft expression on her face. “You may think that, but we both know it’s not true.” She opens her arms, her hands awaiting his shoulders as to pull him into her embrace. 

“It’s me, your mother.” Your eyes widen, why is she here? Why did she decide to come back now of all times?

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” your tone is soft while you look at Michael, a worried expression on your face. “But Michael and I should really be going.” “Who are you?” Her soft expression never falls, almost like she got it implanted onto her face. But you can see the truth, the deception, the root of her lies. She’s only here for the spotlight. She wants to be seen as his mother, as his savior. But you know that she will only ruin him. She will only make him fall deeper into the black hole.

“Oh, I’m guessing you haven’t seen the news,” you start. You look at Michael’s mother, your soft expression immediately faltering. “I’m Michael’s fiancee. It’s very nice to meet you.” You give her a fake soft smile. You don’t want to seem too rude, but you know kindness with a person like this will only lead to your ruin.

“Ah, I thought you were his chafure. You seem awfully-” “Stop.” She turns her attention back to Michael, her faux softness resurfacing. “My dear, you seem tired. Why don’t we-” “No.” He can’t get his head around this whole situation. Why has she come back? Why did she choose now to come back? Does she want money, is that it? Maybe she just wants to be seen with him. Maybe she needs her acting career back and the only way she can get noticed is with Michael.

But he doesn’t want any of that. He tried so hard to look for her, and now she shows up out of nowhere. 

Michael feels like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. 

His mom tries to reach out again, but Michael is too preoccupied to notice. So, you step in, your body in the middle of both of them. Your glare is icy, never relenting when you see his mother’s expression falter. She seems to be caught up in her own little world. Does she not know the damage she created? How dare she walk back into his life like he owes her everything.

No, she owes him everything.

“I don’t know you, but I know of you. I know what kind of person you are and it’s fucking disgusting.” Your tone is sharp as if laced with venom, and it cuts right through her little facade. You can see the second her fake kindness leaves, and you’re left with the disgust and hatred that Kaiser should have. 

“You are not allowed to walk back into Michael’s life when it’s convenient for you. You don’t get to do that. That’s not fair to him at all. 

Do you know how many times he’s tried to find you? You don’t, do you? He’s tried almost his entire life to find you, to find some sort of comfort in his mother. But you left him. You left a child all by himself with someone neither of you could’ve trusted. 

Do you know the first thing he said to me when I first hugged him? He thanked me. He thanked me for being there, for letting him breathe. He has constant thoughts that I’m going to leave him because of your mistakes.

And if you’re a good mother, if you truly missed him, you would’ve reached out in the past and apologized for everything. But you didn’t.

So no. I’m sorry, but not. You do not get to walk back into Michael’s life right now. He can reach out if and when he truly wants to. Please leave.”

Michael’s mother juts her chin up, a little huff leaving her mouth before she walks away. You truly thought that you wedged a block between Kaiser and his mother. You’re scared that if you turn around, you’ll see the hurt and betrayal across his face.

But that’s not it in the slightest. Kaiser is so proud to be called yours at this moment. He’s so very grateful to you. He has never had someone stick up for him in this way before.

Yes, he always acts as if nothing can bother him, even if he shows it on his face a little. But at this moment, he realizes that he wants to be held by you, he wants you to nurture him and to care for him. He wants to turn to you for things he has never received in his life.

Before he knows it, tears gather in his eyes, threatening to spill along his cheeks. His body moves on its own as he makes his way to you.

“Thank you,” his arms looped around your waist, his hold tightening ever so slightly. You thank the Lord that everyone has left or else everyone would see Kaiser crying and you know that he hates showing that to the world. 

You let those thoughts leave your mind, your smile growing back onto your face. “No need to thank me, my love. I meant every word and I will protect you until you’re ready to see her again.”

[auraisereigh]

"Feather"

Oneshot

Xaden Riorson x Scribe reader Request: Hi!! I'm dying for some Xaden X scribe reader fics 😭 anything you want. but preferably ones that will give me a cavity from how sweet and fluffy they are. wc: 5.7 ☆ no direct spoilers. i hope it's fluffy enough for you, i wrote it during my free time at my intern and i swear they gave me a headache, there is one woman so freaking mean to me :/ Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Feather as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names. (New girl for a story?)

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

A Featherly Request:

Being a scribe had its perks. The archives were quiet, I didn’t have to talk to many people, and there were enough books to keep me busy.

Today, I was on duty to assist cadets from other quadrants in case they needed anything.

It was a surprisingly quiet day, considering it was Saturday. Usually, it was much busier.

I was skimming through one of the older books when a tall shadow appeared in my vision. I didn’t have to look up to know it was Xaden Riorson.

The tall, shadowy figure—handsome, as always—stopped in front of my desk.

Over the last few weeks, he’d been coming in more often. Asking for books that I’m sure of he didn’t need.

I stood up from my chair, inclining my head in a small bow. His lips quirked upward at the gesture. Every time he did that, my heart raced a little faster.

"How can I help you?" I signed fluidly. I knew he understood sign language, and that he was capable of signing himself, but he rarely spoke. That deep, rumbling voice always made me feel fuzzy inside.

"Just a few books," he said, handing me a paper. Our hands brushed for a fraction of a second, and my heart leaped. I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as I scanned the list.

"Take your time, Feather," he said, using the nickname he’d given me—one that referenced a feathered quill.

I hurried down the aisles, searching for the books. They were easy to find, mostly study materials used by scribes, and they were all in the same aisle.

Not even ten minutes later, I returned with the requested books. Quietly, I handed them over to Xaden. He took them with ease.

"Amazing job, Feather," he said again, the nickname rolling off his tongue. The heat from my earlier blush crept up once more.

"No need to be flustered," he mused. "Though, I have to admit, those flushed cheeks suit you."

My heart skipped a beat, and I was sure it was racing now.

With a small smile, he walked away, leaving me breathless and flustered.

♡

A book date

It took Xaden weeks to convince me to go out with him. I preferred staying inside.

Every time he returned books to Basgiath, I would put them away and find little notes tucked inside—his handwriting surprisingly neat—asking if I’d like to go out with him. For weeks and weeks, I ignored them. Until finally… I said yes. Well, I signed it.

Which brings us to the here and now.

Xaden had originally suggested a lake. Though the idea was tempting, it felt too intimate for a first date. Instead, I suggested a library. Despite the fact that I already spent most of my time in one, he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, when I made the suggestion, the grin he gave me told me he was already scheming.

We walked through the cobbled streets of Aretia, a stark contrast to Basgiath. The people here were friendly, warm, the town itself bursting with life. He walked close beside me, but not too close—just enough for me to be aware of his presence.

I was taken aback when we stopped in front of a small but cozy-looking building. The window display was decorated with books on nearly every subject imaginable—fantasy, romance, knowledge, history, and more.

He held the door open for me. A real gentleman.

I stepped inside, the scent of parchment and ink wrapping around me like a warm embrace. The store was small but packed with books, filling every possible space. Near the cashier, I spotted a set of colorful bookmarks. I had to refrain from showing too much excitement.

I scoured the shelves, moving from genre to genre, until I found a book about two soulmates—one cursed to kill the other in every lifetime they met. The female spent lifetime after lifetime trying to break the curse, until finally, she succeeded.

The cover was a soft pink, a gold-foiled heart pierced by an arrow.

A shadow loomed over my shoulder, and I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

"So you like fairy tales?" Xaden mused.

"Only the ones with a happy ending," I replied, my voice soft.

I could feel the warmth of him behind me.

He chuckled, plucking the book gently from my grasp. When I looked up, I caught the rarest thing of all—a small, genuine smile.

"Wait outside," he said, a little too casually.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why?"

"Go." He nudged me toward the door, barely restraining a smirk.

Suspicious, but relenting, I stepped outside into the cool evening air.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bookstore, carrying a small bag with the shop’s logo—a quill wrapped around a scroll.

He handed it to me, looking almost… shy. Something you never saw on Xaden Riorson.

I peeked inside and felt my breath hitch.

Two books.

The fairytale novel I had picked out… and another one, a poetry collection. The cover featured two foxes curled up together. Inside was a matching bookmark, decorated with the same foxes.

I looked up at him, a genuine smile breaking across my face.

"Thank you, Xay," I said softly, looking him straight in the eye.

His lips curled into a slow smile. "I’m glad you like them," he murmured.

Then, with a gentle touch, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, brushing against my cheek, sending warmth all the way down to my toes.

♡

Stuck in history

I had read the same sentence at least ten times.

The history tome I was studying was one of many in Aretia, part of my personal goal to read all of them—to learn, to help the revolution. The problem? Some of these books were centuries old, written in language so dead, it was like deciphering a code.

The sound of a door opening pulled me from my thoughts.

Steam drifted into the room as Xaden stepped out of the bathroom, his hair damp, a towel slung around his neck.

"You're still reading that?" he asked, moving toward where I was sprawled upside down on his bed—his very soft, very silky bed.

"Some people just write in codes," I mumbled, barely stifling a yawn.

Xaden sighed as he gathered the scattered books, stacking them neatly on his desk.

"Maybe they only look like a dead language because you've been at it all day," he countered.

I waved him off, flipping back to the page I was struggling with. "I’m almost through this. If you let me read in peace, I’ll be done faster."

He huffed, clearly unconvinced.

Then, before I could react, he plucked the book right out of my hands.

"Wait—!"

Too late. He had already moved to his desk, slipping one of his daggers between the pages I had been reading to mark my spot.

Then, he turned back toward me.

I blinked up at him, still upside down.

"You’re done," he said firmly.

I sighed dramatically, but before I could argue, he sat on the bed beside me. My head was practically resting against his legs.

His hand reached out, tracing his fingers gently along my cheek.

"Get some rest," he murmured. "I don’t have patrol tomorrow."

The words softened something in my chest.

I adjusted my position, curling up more comfortably on the bed.

Xaden leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

I felt my eyes grow heavy. Sleep pulled at me.

Somewhere in the haze of near-sleep, I felt the weight of a thick blanket being draped over me. The fabric was soft, warm against my skin.

The bed dipped beside me.

I cracked my eyes open just slightly.

Xaden had settled in next to me, lying on his stomach, an arm tucked under his pillow. His other arm reached out, pulling me in close.

The warmth of him wrapped around me like a cocoon.

"Goodnight, Xay," I whispered into the quiet night.

"Goodnight, Feather," he murmured back.

Sleep claimed us both, the night bringing the kind of peace we rarely got to have.

♡

[cozage]

you wanna do continue the one you did where the s/o gets captured? Get them rescuuuued. please and thank you :D

A/N: I actually have two of these requests in my inbox, and these got really long because I’m insane and have to write every detail, so I’m going to break these up into three different posts so people aren’t stuck reading and scrolling through a 10k fic on tumblr. Ace and Law’s will be coming soon!

Characters: female reader x Luffy

Cw:  angst, drugging, near-death experience

Total word count: 2.3k

Summary: You've been captured by marines, and the Strawhats work to get you back. (Followup from this request)

Rescued by Pirates - Luffy

Luffy stood at the top of the cliff, staring down the Marine fleet in the bay. There were ten ships, and you were on one of them. Captured. Alone. He knew you were fighting, but there’s only so much you could do in a locked prison cell with sea prism cuffs. 

“I’m coming.” Luffy muttered, hoping the wind would carry his words to you. “Wait for me. Don’t stop fighting.”

“Luffy, get down!” Nami pulled the captain back over the ridge, keeping him out of sight from the scouts. “If a Marine sees you this whole stealth operation is over!”

Luffy groaned and slumped to the ground. “I don’t even know why this has to be a stealth operation! If we just start smashing everything-”

“They’ll kill her.” Sanji said, and Luffy grew quiet. “If they know we’re coming, they’ll execute her now and report it to the news coo after.”

“They probably have people waiting outside her cell to do it as soon as the call is made,” Franky admitted coldly. “They don’t want another repeat of…” he trails off, and everyone knows what he’s going to say. 

They don’t want another repeat of Ace. Luffy embarrassed the entire World Government when he broke into Impel Down, broke out of Impel Down, and then sailed to Marineford and freed Ace from his shackles. 

“It’s possible that’s why they’re still here.” Nami’s voice was worried as she spoke everyone’s thoughts. “They’re baiting us so they can kill her. They don’t want to transport her just to have Luffy embarrass them again.”

“It would make sense why they haven’t taken off yet,” Brook added. 

“Or they’re waiting for backup,” Sanji countered. “She’s a dangerous pirate, but the Navy always prefers public executions. Especially with the new leader having a personal vendetta against Luffy, he’ll want to kill her publicly if possible. I’m sure of it.”

“Then we have to go!” Luffy started to stand to his feet, frustrated with the lack of action, but Nami quickly pulled him back down. 

“Let Robin and Brook handle this first part! We have to find her first before you start smashing everything to bits!”

Luffy hated waiting. Especially when there's nothing he could do to pass the time. But finally, after about 30 minutes of silence, Robin opened her eyes. 

“She’s on the fourth ship in the back with the red and yellow tailwind sail. Under deck, in a prison cell. Shackles on her arms and legs, and a neck collar.”

Luffy’s eyes peeked over the cliffside to find the ship Robin was describing. He located it, and sprang forward to jump over the cliff, but strong arms held him back. 

“Zoro, let me go! We know where she is!” He struggled to break free from the swordsman's grasp. “We have to go get her!”

“Hang on Luffy, we need a plan before we just jump into action!”

--

The guard change comes early today, which you find odd. Normally the Marines are dragging their feet to stand guard over your cell, but then you spot green hair poking out from the marine cap, the man next to him with a very familiar scar across his cheek, and your heart begins to beat faster. 

“So, the keys?” Zoro holds his hand out to the Navy officer watching over you, who laughs in his face. 

“This must be your first time imprisoning a pirate, kid,” the old man says. “We don’t keep the keys anywhere near the prison. You know how easy it would be for someone to knock out a guard and take them? Let me show you the ropes, kid.”

The old man and his colleague turn to face you for the first time in hours, ushering Zoro and Luffy to look at you now. You can see Luffy is in visible pain just from looking at you. 

Your arms and legs were each shackled to the wall, and you had a contraption around your neck that looked strikingly similar to the ones the Celestial Dragons used on their slaves. Blood caked your hair and trickled down your face. Your body was littered in scratches and bruises, your clothes torn from whatever battle had happened that Luffy wasn’t there for. 

“Each one of those shackles has a different key, and that neck collar too, as well as the key to the jail cell itself. Each of those keys are on a different ship, and we’ve got instructions to throw the keys into the harbor if we catch a glimpse of a Strawhat approaching the ship. 

“The best part, though,” he continues, with a hungry malice in his eyes. He raises his hand to point a finger at your neck. “That collar has a fun little detonator. The Vice Admiral has the control button if it comes to that. And the collar itself administers a sedative every hour on the hour, and gives another dose if someone touches the bars.” 

He smacked the bars for good measure, and you flinched as you felt a pinch in your neck. 

“Honestly it’s a miracle she’s still awake. We like to hit the bars every now and then just to keep her calm. Don’t want her causing a scene now, do we?”

You were trying your hardest not to stare at Luffy. You can see the rage consuming his body as he realizes what an insurmountable task it is to save you. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head viciously to relay a simple message. Run. Don’t save me.

But you know he won’t listen. He never has. Not with Robin or Ace or Sanji or anyone else he’s saved against their will. And he certainly won’t do it with you either. 

“I see a pretty big flaw in this whole design,” Zoro said, staring at the cell you were in. You could see he was enraged as well, but he was hiding it better than Luffy. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, kid?”

“Can’t they just cut it?”

The old Marine let out a hardy laugh at his question. “Sea prism stone is the hardest substance in the world. Nobody can cut through that, I don't care if it’s Dracule Mihawk himself!”

“Oh, Mihawk can cut Sea Prism Stone.” The green-haired man gave a devilish smirk to the Marine.

You braced yourself. You knew what was coming. Zoro only had two swords with him, but it would be enough. 

You heard a whirlwind of air swirl around you, and you could feel the weight on your arms get lighter. There were several pinches in your neck, and you could feel yourself involuntarily slip into unconsciousness. 

--

Zoro had put just a bit too much power into his swings to free you, and the cuts ripped through the ship behind you. He then turned to the marines, wickedly smiling at them. 

“Told ya.” He smacked the younger one with the hilt of the sword and the marine crumpled to the ground, but the older marine was fast and dodged Zoro’s attack. The Marine locked Zoro into a battle of swords, occupying his ability to get the other chains off of you.

Luffy sprang into action, running to grab you. He screamed your name as he ran to you, jumping over sea prism stone rubble and other debris to reach you. He knew Zoro hadn’t hurt you, but you were slumped against the ship wall, and he couldn’t help but think about how fragile you looked. He shook you, desperately trying to wake you up. 

And then Luffy heard a beeping sound, coming from the collar around your neck. The same sound that he was helpless against in Sabaody. “ZORO!” He screamed, holding you tight. 

“Forgot to mention,” the older marine grinned back at the swordsman, keeping him locked in a battle. “Tamper with the chains too much and the collar will detonate, even without a push from the button.”

Zoro tightened his muscles in horror. “Luffy, get it off of her!”

“I hear she’s the weakness of Strawhat Luffy. Let’s watch and see, shall we? Perhaps he’ll have an even worse reaction than in Marineford.” The marine's gaze was on Luffy now, eager to see him snap. 

Luffy ignored the weight of what failure meant for you. He focused, letting his Haki flow through his body like he had seen Rayleigh do in Sabaody. He grabbed the collar from around your neck and squeezed, snapping it in half, and threw it away from you. In the same motion, Luffy turned and glared at the Marine, who instantly crumpled to the ground, knocked out by Luffy’s Conqueror's Haki. 

“Luffy, we have to go,” Zoro’s voice was urgent. There was commotion above them coming from the deck. It was clear the Navy was alerted to their presence. But Luffy was ignoring him, desperately trying to shake you awake. 

“Come on, Luffy,” Zoro insisted, stepping over the rubble. He quickly cut each of the shackles off your legs.  “She’ll be fine. I’ll carry her, you punch things. Let's go.”

Zoro put a sword between his teeth and picked you up into his arms. He saw the darkness in Luffy’s eyes, and stood back to let his captain destroy the people who had tried to take you away from him. 

Luffy spared no ship. Once he saw Zoro and you were safe on the beach, he unleashed his full might against the ten ships in the harbor. His crew could hear his screams of rage from the shoreline, his pent up fear of losing you spilling out into his attacks. 

When he was finally finished destroying the ships, he came back to the shore and sat silently among his crew. He pulled your unconscious body into his lap, stroking your hair softly. He stared down at you for a long time, just watching the rise and fall of your chest, his eyesight fuzzy from tears. 

As the sun was starting to sink over the horizon, Nami finally spoke up. “We should go.” Her voice was hoarse, and her cheeks were damp with tears. 

“Not until she wakes up.”

Sanji sighed, pulling out a few small rations of food to give the crew while they waited. Luffy didn’t eat, he just combed his fingers through your hair, willing you to wake up. 

Nightfall came, and you were still unconscious. The crew could see lights on the horizon. Marine ships that were supposed to lead you to Impel Down. 

“Luffy, we need to go,” Sanji insisted. Luffy refused to respond, his eyes only watching you. 

“She’ll be more comfortable on the ship, Luffy,” Chopper said, trying to coax the captain back to the Sunny. “She can sleep in a bed and we can monitor her more closely.”

“It’s better for her to be back on the ship,” Sanji agreed. “And we need to get moving.”

Luffy finally nodded, giving in to his crew's request. If it was better for you, then he wouldn’t be selfish. It was selfishness that got you in this position in the first place. If he hadn’t run off on his own, if he had just stayed with the group like Nami had told him too, this might’ve never happened.

He held you close to him and walked back to the ship with the rest of the crew, not speaking. When they got back to the ship, Luffy set you down in the infirmary and stood in the corner, letting Chopper take care of you.

“Let me know if anything changes in her status.” And with that, Chopper left the two of you alone in the infirmary. Luffy sat in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand and watching you sleep, waiting for you to come back to him. 

--

Before you open your eyes, you can hear the heart rate monitor beeping; you can feel the harsh light against the back of your eyelids. Beside you, you can hear soft, even breathing of someone who is sleeping. Luffy. You’d know the sound of his breathing anywhere. You feel relief wash over you, knowing you’re safe with your crew. 

The light is still too bright for your eyes, so your hand reaches out blindly, searching for Luffy. Your hand finds his head, and you pat him gently. You don’t intend to wake him, but he instantly stirs from his sleep. 

“Y/n?” His voice is groggy as his head lifts up. 

“Hi,” you whisper, your eyes still closed. “Can you turn off the-”

His body crashes into you, cutting off your question, and you wrap your arms around him in an embrace. You can hear his broken sobs of relief fill the air. “I was so scared,” he sobbed into your shoulder. “You weren’t waking up.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say soothingly, trying to calm him down. You crack your eyes open a bit, trying to adjust to the light in the room. “Thanks to you, captain.”

[rewh0re]

THE SOULMATE THEORY ; MIKAGE REO

- wc: 1.1k, aged up characters (like 19-20) doesn't dive into explicit/hardcore smut but is definitely suggestive in some parts so I'd say readers 16 and above may read this, indirect mentions of sexual activities, fluff, reader is called a minx (affectionate), a little bit of that one old greek myth about soulmates, it's true that once you use em dash you can't stop.

a/n: literally got the idea at the doctor's office don't even. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!! also tagging: @chigirizzz (this is that one reo fic I was telling you about where you asked me to tag you)

The room was dark. The only source of light—though bright but not enough to light up the whole room—was from the digital clock on the bedside table. '12:42,’ it read in bright neon red numbers. It was also quiet, so much so that two pairs of steady breathings could be heard.

One belonged to Reo and the other, to you.

"Are you asleep?" You whisper—soft and delicate—careful as to not wake your lover up if he indeed was asleep but loud enough to let him know of your own sleepless state.

Your eyes have been long adjusted to the darkness and you can make out the silhouette of his face. The length of his nose and his eyelashes, the slight part of his lush lips, his sharp and angular jaw—truly—he was majestic.

"No," his eyes fluttered open and his lips turned upward. His smile, the gentleness of which never failed to make your heart beat ten times faster, which never failed to make your stomach feel all giddy with the butterflies that erupted.

"I was thinking about your face from earlier and the various sounds you made too actually. Sweet as honey to me but I'm afraid Mrs. Tanaka might complain come morning," gentle tone was overruled by mischief. That was Mikage Reo, a gem of a person for a second and a force to be reckoned with the next.

"Please don't oh my god," you covered your face—now tinted with embarrassment—with the comforter you and Reo shared as you whined in protest.

The activities from an hour back rushing into your brain, playing like a movie sequence. As foggy as your mind was earlier, you were surprised that you remembered everything so vividly. You could still feel his rough, calloused and much larger hands tracing every curve of your body as if to memorise its shape. You could feel the lingering kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your chest, the now purple marks left with pride. You would have to cover them before work in the morning. You could hear your own sounds of pleasure and his groans as if to say more, more, more. You could feel it all. You could feel him. Your face flushed a deeper shade of fuchsia as you gulped, trying to get the images out of your head.

"You act like we haven't done this a million times before my love," he laughed slowly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"Come on, look at me. Don't shy away now," he pulled the blanket off of you, removing your hands from your face as he hugged you.

"You're incorrigible, you know that right?" You huffed out in faux annoyance, snuggling against his chest, his arms a veil for your figure.

He laughed then, a laugh full of mischief and adoration and something akin to acknowledgement for your previous statement.

You laid like that, in silence. There was peace that came with the soft lub-dub of your synchronised heartbeats and your gentle breaths.

You were the one to break it first.

"Have you ever heard about that one Greek mythology? about soulmates?" You spoke, your cool fingers tracing gentle and soothing shapes on Reo's bare back which was painted with scratches from your nails.

"Can't say I have. Care to tell me?" He looked for your eyes as he pulled up the slipping comforter before pulling you closer to his chest. His warmth engulfed you whole, a comfortable shield from the much cooler surroundings.

"Well there is this theory," you started, face softening into affection as you laid against Reo's—albeit hard—but comfortable chest.

"It says that when Zeus created humans, he originally created them with two of everything. So two heads, two pairs of both the limbs, you get it. Their souls were one too. Fearing the power that these humans could possess, Zeus split them, including their souls, in half and scattered them around the world. The humans—as we now know them to be—would search far and wide, across oceans and lands to look for their other half. It is said that this other half is your soulmate and you search for them throughout your life," you smiled as you looked up at him, engrossed in your little story.

"Well that's just cruel of Zeus now, isn't it? I mean, what if someone doesn't find their soulmate?" Reo pouted and that made you chuckle a little.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is just a story at the end of the day and how you decide to perceive a story totally depends on you," you jabbed his chest with your finger.

"I think I've found my other half," he stated with pride.

"Oh? Is that so? I wonder who it could be," you made a face as if you were thinking, tapping your chin with your forefinger.

"Oh I bet you do," in an instant your boyfriend was hugging you tighter than ever, his face buried in the crook between your neck and your shoulder.

His soft kisses were ticklish and they made you giggle. Your fingers further messed up his already tousled hair.

"You want me to say it out loud so bad don't you, you little minx," he whispered in your neck as you hummed in response.

"I think I've found my soulmate in you."

"I also think I've found mine in you Reo," your gentle voice was like ambrosia to his ears. He could drown in it, a bit was never enough.

He trailed kisses down the side of your face, starting from your ear, going down your jaw and finally a little bite on your neck. He licked on it in order to soothe the area. A new addition to the marks he had left earlier.

"Ow Reo!" You playfully smacked his head which forced him to separate from your neck.

"I already have enough marks to cover!" You puffed your cheek, barely hiding the smile that was begging to come up to the surface.

"You'll beg for them again tomorrow," he winked at you.

You could only roll your eyes. What would you even say? Deep in your heart, even you knew that he was right. "What is wrong with you?"

"Just that I'm irrevocably in love with you," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, shutting his eyes.

"Unfortunately, I happen to love you too."

Teasing glances from your coworkers and friends due to the remnants from the events of the night would be a concern for later. For now, sleep would come easy to you because here you were, with Reo, in his arms. He was your safe haven and you were his and truly, whatever in the world could ever change that?

[swagammemnon]

Caught in Honey

Chp 1 | Next

Am I feral over these men? Yes. Feral enough to write a fic in the most disgusting PoV? Also yes. Here are the warnings; more to come as I add chapters. Basically, the premise is you and John are together, you used to be with Simon, but you don't know Simon is one of John's subordinates. Filth and fun ensue.

The keys jangle deafeningly in your lock, hurting the ears that had been subject to the endless pitiful howls of a golden retriever who’d been spayed today.  That on top of the grimy sensation on your hands from your last three appointments of the day being crusty, old, white dogs with crocodile tear stains.  Despite your exhaustion as you tumble through your doorway, you notice your elderly cat is not in his typical post on the keys table by the front door.  Notice that something in your renovated penthouse apartment is… off.

Slipping off your shoes, you quietly pull out the flashlight taser your boyfriend had gifted you a mere month after you started dating.  When you protested, you live in the suburbs for goodness’ sake, he’d replied in that deliciously gravely accent of his, It’s this or I assign a military escort when I’m away, love.  So, you’d taken it, rolling your eyes because you knew you’d never be able to win against him on this particular subject.  This was the first time you’ve ever reached for it.

Tiptoeing down the entry hall to your open floor plan kitchen and living space, you frown as you spot steaming pots on your stove, your cat happily sat at his filled food dish, munching away.  Unbothered furball.

You nearly scream as huge arms ensnare your waist, bag falling to the floor as you’re lifted from the ground.

But then a rough beard, familiar and ticklish, scratches along the shell of your ear.  Your stomach flipping over itself.

“Got you,” comes the familiar growl.

“John!” you nearly squeal, wiggling until he sets you on your feet so you can turn.  The moment you do, his lips are on yours, consuming your entire reality.  Molten heat pouring from this bear of a man into mouth, invading your veins, melting you into his arms.  Your heart immediately skips a beat, galloping faster as you feel the heady crush of his arms around you.  Snaking your arms around his neck, you let yourself dissolve, a welcome end to a long, grating day.  Between breaths, on swollen lips, you whisper, “You didn’t tell me you were back.  I would’ve made you something–”

“None o’ that, love.  ‘S my job to take care o’ ya,” he grumbles, chasing your lips for more.  More heat, more fire.

Still, the guilt twists in your tummy.  Yes, you’ve just finished your fourth of four ten hour shifts this week, but John… he’s in far more danger than you could ever imagine, risking his life on adrenal squeezing, back breaking missions.  Only to come home and cook you dinner… feed you cat .

“But–” you murmur, setting the flashlight on your counter so you can fist the soft cotton of his dark t-shirt.  He’s freshly showered too, smelling of moss, tonka and sandalwood.  The scent slides shackles around your wrists, drawing your arms tightly against his shoulders.

“Hush,” John commands, greedy bear paws sliding beneath your scrub bottoms, slipping them down the round curve of your ass.  “Just lemme feel ya.”  

You shiver as those huge palms close over the globes of your asscheeks, forcing you to your tiptoes.  Grinding your pelvis into his.  Where a delicious heat is already building.  In the end, there is no winning against John in a contest of chivalry.  Dogmatic devotion that had nearly frightened you away in the beginning. He’d shocked you early with that, staunchly refusing to let you open a single door, showering you with affection both verbal and physical, keeping you tucked beneath his shoulder on the inside of the sidewalk.  Small things.  Innocuous things.  Things you’ve never even thought of before as you made your own way in life.  Not until John.  Not until your ex…

But you shut that thought out immediately.  You weren’t together for a reason.  And John, sneaky little shit, had made himself a fixture of your life.  In the betweens of his deployments.  Even during–with bouquets of flowers delivered to your door or your hospital.  Your favorite meals delivered much the same.  Little texts when he could, pictures and videos that always had your hand sliding between your legs.

“Fuck, swee’art,” he groans against your mouth, walking you against the edge of your counter.  “Missed you so much.”  

He shoves your scrub bottoms down your legs, nipping at the corner of your mouth as he leans his weight into you.  Arching your spine with a large palm splayed along your lower back.  John is an extremely tactile man–and you discovered you were too.  John always shoved hands beneath clothing, not to initiate anything (sometimes) but just to soak in the skin to skin warmth.  You voice absolutely no complaints as his palms eat up your skin, coursing from the joint of your thighs and ass, up under your scrub top to scratch along your ribs, thumbs bullying beneath the wiring of your bra to graze the underside of your breasts.

You release a heavy breath, fingernails digging into his shoulders, bones already trembling as your body begins to remember the outline of him.  The weight of his muscles against you.  His intoxicating scent writhing in your nose.  The scrape of his calloused fingers along your skin.

“Missed you,” you mumble into his hairline as he mouths along your chin, his teeth drawn to your throat like a magnet.  Eagerly replacing the marks he’d left on you before this deployment.  Staining you anew as his own masterpiece.  His groan is rapacious, blasted heat scorching your tender skin.  “Let me clean up, first, baby.  I’m–”

“Don’t care.”  Fuck, his thick as molasses accent might as well be glomming onto your body, trapping in honey as the achiness in your muscles bubbles to the surface.  Your silly brain, now hardwired– trained , smarmy bastard–into relaxing, turning off.  His teeth are sharp and thrilling as razor blades against your throat, eagerly waiting for you to cut yourself on them.  “It’s your Friday, yeah?”

God, how you’ve missed his voice, how his hands cup your waist, your generous hips and drag you where he pleases.  Those torturous hands bully under your scrub top, clearing a path for hungry palms and bruising fingers.  You’ve missed those handprints too, painted along your body, a reminder of his strength, his passion, his protection.  Mindlessly, you nod, your gut knotting as he hoists your ass onto the cool counter without even a shred of effort.  If you really tried, if you truly wanted to, you’d never be able to escape him.  His job is his body, and he does it so fucking well.

“My sweet girl’s tired, then.  Working that pretty brain all week.  You deserve a li’l break, don’t you?” he cajoles, luring a wounded, beaten animal into his trap with the sweetest honey.  You go all too willingly.  Even as your cheeks heat in embarrassment, the admittance to your exhaustion, the weakness.   But there’s a reason John is the captain of his unit—perspicacious eyes stripping anyone and everyone to the bone within minutes of meeting.  You’d been no different.  And his idolatrous words cut straight through any walls your ex had forced you to raise, like the months you’d spent building them, fortifying them, were naught but air between you.

Your blurred thoughts shake away as John’s thick fingers suddenly close around your chin, fingertips pressing into your cheeks.  Puckering your pretty lips.  His enthralling jewel blue eyes are lidded and smug, a dangerously sharp edge glinting beneath.

“ Don’t you.”

John has made it his mission to carve self-compassion into your muscle and sinew.  Just as you had made it yours to him.  But it was hard .  After years of driving and driving and driving yourself into the ground.  Just one more semester, just one more class, just one more test, just one more year and you did it .  But at what cost to yourself?  Years of putting yourself aside in pursuit of your dream, it left crippled habits and cruel voices in your head.  Your ex—he’d started to heal the long-callused burns, help you lay your own foundation beneath the heavy weight of your life’s work.

But then it ended…

“Get ou’a your head,” John all but growls, tearing your focus violently back to him.  “You know the deal, love.  When I’m here, I get your attention, mm?”  Releasing your trembling breath, you nod, chin dipping into his warm palm.  Broken down all too easy after your exhausting week, clearing the path for your usually managed anxiety.  John knew that.  He knows everything .  “Now answer my question.”

You nod, a jittery hollowness bleeding through your limbs, leaving achy exhaustion in its wake.

John dips his mouth against yours, plush lips just touching as he teases you with a kiss.  “Words.”

“I do,” you plead, eyes stinging as he gazes sternly (fondly) down at you.

“Mmm, good girl.”

Those two words kick a moan from your chest, has your fingers clenching on the lip of the counter as John releases your chin.  Only to brutally rip your scrub top off, revealing your ugly, old-reliable bra.  You flush, staring down at the ratty thing.

“I would’ve worn something else if–”

“Swee’art,” John soothes, swiping greedy hands up your ribs, eclipsing your breasts in his eager grip.  You hum, both an acknowledgement and a barrier to the whimper threatening to spill over your lips.  Your breasts have been terribly sore this week.  And John begins kneading them with a force that has your knees shaking around his waist.  “Be quiet.  Let me enjoy my girl.”

Your jaw goes slack, already shivering as John hikes your knees over his shoulder, scrub pants tossed away, using one hand to flatten you against the counter before the other tugs the gusset of your panties away.  You jump as his breath fans your wet pussy, true slick only beginning to drip from your entrance.  You can’t help but cry out as his chapped lips seal against your clit, and you need to sink your fingers into his thick hair, grown out and shaggy after months away but your hands are dirty.  Never truly feeling clean from a day in your hospital until you shower. 

But when John wants something, there's no waiting, no denying. And fuck, doesn’t it make your eyes roll?  The long drag of his tongue up your slit sure does, hands curling around the counter’s edge as an anchor.

“Fuck, John,” you moan, lids closing as he settles his broad shoulder between your thighs.

“Looks like my pussy missed me too, eh?” He snarls smugly against you, laying a sloppy, wet kiss against your clit.  “Poor thing, already weepin’ f’me.” 

You gasp as he slides one finger into you, burying to the first knuckle. Not enough.   Not nearly enough after all you’ve had has been your fingers and the little bullet vibrator you managed to save when John pillaged your toy stash.  You don’t need toys when you have me.   Honestly?  You’d laughed in his face, but had been curious if he could live up to the statement.  Well, toys don’t live up to the thorough fuckings John carves into your body.

You whimper, eyes caught on the ravenous glint in John’s gaze as he watches his finger sink deeper. Groaning as you clamp down on the invasion. “Relax f’me, darlin’.”

Your soft, dripping walls tighten despite his command as his finger bottoms out. Curling into the spot you can never quite tease as well as him. Into the spot that has your thighs quivering, your elbows giving out fully and your back hits cool countertop.  One finger, one damned finger he rubs in maddening circles over that gummy, delicious spot inside you.  One finger is all it takes to have you shuddering with the bleeding of your tension.  Giving in.

You sigh, a knot in your spine uncoiling as you fully set the weight of your legs on his shoulders.  It is bizarre, what little things your brain filters out, like tension, until you feel it blissfully drain away.

“There she is,” John coos against your scorching heat, wetly sucking on your swollen bud like it’s his own personal sweet.  You moan through your nose, hips shifting as he begins to pump that single digit in and out.  You can feel the drag of every single callus on that finger. Too skilled and dexterous for his own good.  The slick trickling out of you soaks your panties, dampens your thighs. “Just lay back, swee'art. Lemme take care o’ ya.”

And so he does. In a sloppy, salacious mess. He stretches you on a second finger too soon, hips bucking into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around your clit before sucking the throbbing pearl into his mouth. The sting of stretching on him too soon merely sharpens the pleasure pooling behind your navel.  You scream when he nibbles down, nose buried in the soft flesh of your mons.  His other hand digs into the fat of your thigh, bruising and stalwart, ceasing any retreat.  You can feel his beard scraping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the friction burning as it shoots straight into your core.  His puffs of breath in between rude slurping and squelching fan like fire over your skin, draggin you further from coherent thought.

Your abdominals flex, his fingers petting your walls in a ploy to soothe the throbbing of your pretty little pussy.  But he merely makes you gasp, flinching as a sharp pulse of pleasure rips through you.

“John,” you moan quietly, breasts aching inside your bra, demanding he just rip the confining thing from your body.

 Sliding in a third finger, the silver-tongued bastard presses his other palm flat over your mons and lower belly, heavy and insistent as though he can make the fingers inside you touch his palm outside.  It makes you groan, arching off the counter though his stony hand keeps you pinned.  You feel so stuffed full, you can almost swear his fingers toy with the gummy tip of your cervix.  Your pretty lips part around the choked out moan John rips from you with a sudden, harsh thrust straight into your cute little womb.

Every time.  Every time your body forgets what it feels like to be fucked by this man.  Every time John carves himself a niche anew deep inside your body.  Fuck, this is only his fingers?

John laves your sopping cunt with his tongue, filthy wet sounds echoing in your ears as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.  Sucking with obscene fervor.  The scrape of teeth has you bucking into his mouth again, and he lets out a rock deep groan, vibrating straight into your core.

“Tha’s it, swee’art,” he purrs against the pulsing skin between your legs, the praise vining through your limbs, scraping delicious quivers against your bones.  “Get ya nice and loose before I split you on my cock.”

“ John ,” you whine, fingernails bending as you press them into the stone countertop.  Heat caresses your cheeks, those depthless eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“Tha’ what you want, sweet girl?” He seats his fingers deep, massaging gyres into your heat.  His smirk is almost mean, mocking sympathy at you as your thighs tremor around his head.  He seats his lips against your clit—a threat as he starts finger fucking you without mercy.  Fast, squelching, your arousal coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down the sensitive skin between your arse cheeks.  

“Gonna give daddy an orgasm?” he croons before dragging the broad length of his tongue over your clit.  Your thighs twitch inward, your stomach pulling tighter and tighter.  John doesn’t stop watching you, your face for the slightest twitch for him to exploit.  You grit your teeth, tears gathering on your lashes as a half-scream leaks past your lips—the pressure, the heat, the intensity of John on you after so long almost fucking painful.  Brows knit together, all that pours from your mouth are beseeching moans, whines as his tongue moves from stroking to circling.  Depressing the bundle of nerves as he swipes it around your slick core.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, finally breaking as you viciously curl a hand in the collar of his shirt.  Wanting to pull him closer, push him away but you’re stuck.  Frozen and at his mercy.  “Fuck, please.”

John listens, mouth sealing against your clit as his fingers brutally stretch you, pounding into you as your  arousal pools embarrassingly in his palm, drips to the floor.  But his eyes merely darken, lids falling to half mast as he moans against you, feeling how your thighs close, tense and shaking.  Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, face pinched as that coil snakes tighter and tighter.  Painful and pressurized and you’re afraid you’ll crack apart once it releases.  Fuck, you’re already twitching, shuddering as the thunder gathers.  Claps with a deafening bang, lightning striking your blood as one last thrust you feel through your entire body ignites the storm.

Your voice chokes in your throat, body curling off the counter, nails digging bloody strips into John’s shoulder as you break apart.  The lightning grips you, John only making it worse as he works you through it, enraptured by the devastated visage you paint above him.  He could die a happy man right here, your voice finally breaking free with a wretched scream, tears tracking down your cheeks as shocks ripple your body.

You can feel your release gush against John’s beard, filthy and wet, the knowledge of how pathetic you became in mere minutes adding a sweet burn to the pleasure.  Clawing air into your lungs, you whine—sob—his name, your body belonging entirely to another being as it shudders, shatters with your stupefying release.  Your abdominals clench, muscles contracted and shaking to the point of ache , stealing more and more of your air.

Finally, finally , your orgasm releases you and you collapse back onto the counter, heaving miserable little whines on every breath.  John keeps his fingers stuffed inside you, his tongue turned supplicant and languid as he licks the last of your pleasure from you.  Licks until you're keening, pawing at his cheek, asking the man to take pity on you.  He does, eventually.  Rising from his knees and gently lowering your useless legs away from his shoulders.  

John presses down over you, letting you feel his sturdy weight as his mouth captures yours in a sloppy, heated, open-mouthed kiss.  You’re too weak to do much more than breath in his scent as he steals two, three, ten more kisses from you.  As though he is starved of your touch, needing to take in as much as he can as though you’ll disappear.

When he pulls back, you’re sluggish, eyes barely open as you pant like a dog in heat.  The man might as well have sucked the last of your energy out.  He sees this, and your belly warms in a calm, safe sort of way as he smiles down at you.  Entirely besotted, entranced, enchanted with the sleepy, fucked out look on your face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mm?”

Drop a comment or follow the Ao3 link and tell me what you think! I'm really interested in getting feedback on my first 2nd person PoV piece ever.

[herecomethefuzzz]

hi sylv!! btw i wanna say quick tysm for ur support on my fics🥺💗ur always so kind in the tags it makes my day <3

i come w/ a request!! best friend! reader petsitting jambo + the other guy while schlatt's away and him coming back to see you sleeping on the couch with the cats and him realizing he has feelings for you🥺

-rabbitsrams <3

OHMYGOD HELLO ???? you have no idea how excited i got when i saw your user. i love your writing so much its actually amazing !!! anyway, here you go !! it might be a bit long and it probably sounds like i was rambling a bit sometimes because my brain literally. exploded. but uhh yeah !! i hope its okay (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

- a couple days ago your best friend, schlatt, asked if you could look after his cats whilst he went out to film something for his channel. he'd promised you they wouldn't be too much of a problem.

- of course you'd said yes, not wanting to let him down. it was only for the day, couldn't be too big of a job, right? oh my god you were wrong. those two cats were just so CHAOTIC when they were together.

- that day you learnt that a black cat and an orange cat are not a good combo.

- absolute hell. you had jambo running about, doing classic orange cat stuff, and the other little guy was so. loud. literally all he did was MEOW. it didn't help that he didn't let you pet him much, seen as he didn't know you.

- you'd tripped over them more times than you could count, and, honestly, you had considered calling schlatt and telling him to come home more than once.

- it got even worse when they started to get hungry. literally round your legs CONSTANTLY meowing. it was only when you walked into the kitchen that you realised they were hungry.

- once you'd fed them, there was finally peace and quiet. so you decided to go and relax on the couch. it was late, and you were beginning to get tired anyway. you curled up and went on your phone, mindlessly scrolling through twitter. (X?? idk i just call it twitter LUL)

- after around ten minutes, both cats pattered back into the living room. you sighed, expecting them to wreak havoc again, but instead they both jumped up on the couch, and came to lay with you.

- you put your phone down as they did so, and jambo came to curl up right in your arms, whilst the other kitty laid in between your legs.

- you smiled, happy that the two kitties had finally calmed down. infact, everything was so calm and quiet that you felt yourself drifting off.

- it didn't take long for you to finally fall asleep, with the two cats being snuggled up to you, they gave you a lot of warmth.

- not long after you'd fallen asleep, schlatt had gotten home. he was grinning as he got to his front door, expecting you to be up with the cats, waiting for him.

- he opened the door, shouting a, "hey toots! i'm back!" as he walked down the hallway. as he rounded the corner to walk into the living room, his jaw literally dropped. very dramatic reaction from mr. schlatt here.

- his eyes travelled from you, to the black cat inbetween your legs, then to jambo, and he felt himself smile. maybe he even felt himself go a little pink.

- the fact you were comfortable enough to fall asleep in his house made his heart beat just that little bit faster, but he had no clue why.

- and then it hit him. as he looked at your pretty face again, studying you as if you were an art piece in a gallery, he realised he had feelings for you.

this was originally meant to be like. a proper fic. but i then realised that my brain cannot comprehend writing an actual story right now so it got turned into a bulleted thing i hope you dont mind (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

[akillerbeforeyou]

anything (part two)

(kai anderson x fem!reader)

part two of my kai anderson fic based on @fear-is-truth 's bot!! took me a long time to write because I'm lazy, not proofread either

content warning: smut, male receiving oral, pretty tame stuff

word count: 1.1k

read part one here

"Now... get on your knees."

I take a half second to rub my now incredibly raw wrists and arms before tucking my hair behind my ear and straightening out my dress before getting onto my knees. I move slowly and delicately as I feel Kai's gaze upon me.

"Good, good girl. Tell me, do you know what you need to do to gain my forgiveness?"

"I do know, sir" 

I look up at him with doe eyes and a tear-stained face, the air around us is thick and the room is dimly lit. breathing deeply, my hands glide slowly up the side of his pants. I keep my movements deliberately slow and sensual, as Kai watches intently from above. He enjoyed this position of control, of dominance, but most of all, he enjoyed seeing me surrender to him in this way. to be his for the taking, to have me in the palm of his hand. 

Despite this being an act I've performed countless times before, feeling his eyes on me only made me feel more nervous, but that's what it's always been like with Kai. no matter how qualified I am in doing something he always manages to make me feel like I would be lost without his direction. 

I bit my lip as I removed his cock from the confines of his boxer. moving closer to his length, I could feel his strong hand come and grip the back of my head with force- tangling my previously styled hair. I wrapped my lips around his member before letting him guide the way with his hand. 

Kai's breath hitches and his hands continue gripping the back of my head as he forcefully guides me along. He lets out a deep and almost animalistic moan as I continue to bob my head back and forth. 

"That's right, you're doing perfect for me...."

He speaks softly, his voice filled with the kind of affection most other members of the cult wouldn't ever have the pleasure of hearing. the atmosphere had now completely changed- the warm feeling of his approval and love overtook the darkness and fear I had felt not even ten minutes prior. I continued with his length in my mouth, trying (as well as failing) not to gag. 

silently, he pushed my head down faster and faster on his shaft. I continued to go down, looking up at him as if to send a message without actually speaking aloud. from just the look in my eyes, I made my best attempt to display my gratitude towards him. to show him how thankful I was to have a man like him taking such good care of me. He looked down at me and it was easy to tell he also felt an overwhelming wave of affection for me. It felt good, knowing I was his. Knowing He had never been more proud of another girl.

"fuck baby, just like that"

 His words of encouragement pushed me further, working hard to show him the way I worshiped every fiber of his being. I could feel his grip become tighter. He has told me many times previously how much he enjoyed pushing me to my limits, and now I could feel that he was about to reach those limits himself. His breath became shallow and quickening; his heart beating at a thousand miles an hour.

his hand stroked my head, the loving action was the juxtaposition from how roughly he handled me beforehand encouraging me to do better, to serve him better. no one made me feel as safe as I did in his presence, just like how I made him feel powerful.

"That's good, my little sheep..."

I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat as the man I was so infatuated with vocally expressed his appreciation for me. I continued as I felt him tense up for one final time before he reached the peak of his ecstasy. 

Even though I could feel the bruises start to form on my knees, as well as a dull throbbing on my arms and legs from the rope burn, feeling Kai release inside my mouth made the entire experience worth it. I pulled away and swallowed harshly before getting up to become face-to-face with the man I loved. Kai was speechless, which was unusual for him. He was used to me doing whatever I could to please him, but this was a new level of satisfaction. He once told me my skill was 'unparalleled', normally I would chalk it up to him paying me lip service, just another one of his tactics to keep me by his side. However, this time there was no need to join pinkies, the look on his face was proof enough that he had been telling the truth. 

I took a second to stare longingly into his dark eyes before softly giggling and embracing him- burying my face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling up to his warm frame and inhaling deeply to take in his scent. as I hugged him, I could feel his heartbeat pounding against his chest. A look of pure satisfaction settled on his face as he returned my affection. his large arms wrap tightly around me and pull me in impossibly close. I shut my eyes tight, enjoying his presence for a beat before pulling away to admire his face. gazing up at him, holding his hands so as not to fully break contact. I batted my eyelashes as I timidly spoke my next words,

"Do you forgive me, divine ruler? have I proved how much you mean to me?" 

Kai smiled softly, his eyes filled with affection and pride. His voice was uncharacteristically sweet as he replied with the only answer I could ever want to hear

"You have proved your devotion to me. And for that, I forgive you."

I smiled up at him, thanking my lucky stars that he truly did have a soft spot for me, because if someone else in the cult had messed up this big, they would be as good as dead if the second kai found out. 

I looked up to see that Kai was still grinning, filled with pride for his little lamb. I couldn't help but feel the admiration and attraction he radiated when he looked at me. It was so simple to tell what was on his mind. while he wouldn't say it out loud and risk our established dynamic, i knew the truth. that no one else could compare, they never would be able to. No matter how many new girls he got, he would always love how I worshiped him.

[dhorrl]

Primal Hunt with the Wind Hashira

Sanemi Shinazugawa/Reader

Content/Trigger Warning: Fingering, rough sex, primal hunt (BDSM), cursing

Happy Birthday to my sweet baby Sanemi (I rushed this fic cause I was determined to get it posted today)

I will be writing a primal hunt with Feitan next, and I’m working on a follow up for Bakugo, the result of him surviving NNN :)

You stirred the pot of simmering rice with a wooden spoon, watching anxiously as it cooked, a shrill whistle and sputtering emanating from the tea kettle on the fire. Heavy footsteps echoed through the house, growing louder and nearer until you felt his presence behind you. He slowly ran his fingers up your spine, sending shivers down your body before he leaned in for a kiss on your neck and whispered, "How fast can you run, little demon?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you took off towards the door, desperate to put as much distance between you and Sanemi before he gave chase. You couldn't believe you had agreed to this twisted game months ago, but it seemed Sanemi hadn't forgotten. His lavender eyes lit up with wicked excitement at the sight of your sudden movement. He flexed his fingers, eager for the hunt that was about to begin.

"Ten," he rasped out coldly, beginning the countdown. He stalked to the doorway and stood ready at the entrance, muscles tensed and ready to pounce after you. The air was thick with anticipation as he waited.

"Nine… Eight…" Your heart pounded faster and faster as you made your way toward the woods. Every rustle of leaves sounded like Sanemi closing in on you. You stumbled over rocks and roots, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

"Seven… Six…" Though he wasn't lost in thought, an air of concentration shrouded him like smoke from a fire. His senses were heightened, every muscle in his body ready to spring into action.

"Five… Four…" Your steps beat against fresh soil and fell onto soft mosses and thick ferns growing up around granite boulders jutting out like grey thumbs from the forest floor. A branch snapped behind you, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Three… Two…" He grinned, teeth glinting in the sunlight that dappled through the trees. His breaths were calm and even, a predator conserving energy for the inevitable pounce.

"One." Sanemi bolted from the door, his powerful legs carrying him swiftly across the ground. Leaves crunched underfoot as he gave chase, his every sense sharpened and focused on capturing his prey. The chase was on, and Sanemi was a ferocious beast unleashed in the wilderness.

You turned your head to catch a glimpse of him, holding up two fingers in the distance in case you hadn't heard him. You grinned and threw yourself into the wild run, knowing time was short before he'd be on your tail. The thrill of being chased raced through you like electricity, invigorating you from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. His powerful strides lead him ever closer as his senses sharpened with every step. His hearing had already picked up the pounding of your heart in his ears; it was music to him—intoxicating and sweet.

Giggles erupted from your mouth as you pushed harder against the terrain, willing your legs faster than ever. Your eyes frantically scanned for an escape route as you felt his gaze burning into you from behind. A hope ignited within you as a clearing came into sight beyond the trees. You took the chance, bursting out into the open without hesitation. With each step, your heels dug into the dirt, pulling you towards safety.

Sanemi roared with a bloodlust that shook the earth beneath his hunt, feet pounding against the forest floor as he raced after you. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, relentless and hungry for the thrill of the chase. "Run, little demon, run! But remember, there's no escape from me!" He began to laugh, each booming voice calling out into the forest with his promise of primal conquest rings in his ears.

Sanemi's predatory instincts came alive with every laugh that trailed behind you, the sound fueling his determination. As he followed, the undergrowth crunched beneath his boots, tracking the erratic path you took with a hunter's precision. Your scent was a beacon, leading him through the thick foliage and darkness of the woods. He thrived in the chase, the raw adrenaline of pursuit coursing through his veins. This was primal, carnal, a game that tapped into the very essence of his being. The Wind Hashira was swift and relentless, closing the distance with every powerful stride while his eyes remained fixated on the sight of your retreating form.

As Sanemi emerged from the trees, he spotted you darting across the clearing. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he picked up speed and lunged forward, snatching hold of you around your waist with a grip of steel. You let out a scream that was more like music to his ears as you thrashed against him, trying to break free, but it was useless; he held you fast in his powerful embrace.

A feral snarl escaped Sanemi's lips as he forced you both down onto the grassy ground of the open field. He placed himself atop you, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun creeping through the trees above. Your cries, made up of a mix of fear and desire, only invigorated him further. Drawing closer to your face, he growled softly into your ear. "You can keep screaming if you like, little demon. I have you now," Sanemi whispered with wicked promise in his voice.

He grabbed your wrists, his calloused hands gripping yours firmly as he pinned them above you. His touch sent sparks of electricity up and down your body, making your skin tingle with anticipation. Your attempts to break free only seemed to excite him further, and his grip tightened as he took control. With a warning nip on your neck, Sanemi felt the wild instinct within awaken at having finally subdued its prey. "You're mine," he growled, the words hot on your skin as he prepared to take what was his.

You growled back defiantly, struggling against his vice-like hold despite knowing it was futile. But Sanemi only laughed; he was drawn in by your fearless spirit, wholly captivated by the push and pull of wills between you two. Every twist and turn of your body seemed to stoke the flames of his desire higher and higher. Sanemi was an unstoppable force of nature and intended to take full advantage of your submission.

His grip tightened just a fraction, securing you further as his body pressed down, the defined muscles of his torso against the softness of your curves. His mouth hovered over your skin, teeth grazing lightly, promising more bites. And then he spoke, a command laced with dark intent.

Sanemi held your wrist firmly in one hand while his other hand slowly traced the curves of your body. His fingertips awakened the desire stirring since you first locked eyes with each other. His breath was hot against your ear as he spoke again, the sound both taunting and enticing. "Keep fighting, little demon," he rasped, his voice a devil's whisper. "It only makes it better when I finally break you." You let out a soft growl before yielding to his touch, embarrassed by your body's automatic response as a blush crept up your cheeks. Sanemi could feel your surrender as his hips pushed into yours, and when his teeth grazed your ear, he knew that you were his to take.

A moan escaped your lips as you lay beneath Sanemi, feeling his hot breath on your skin and trembling under the anticipation of him claiming you. "Don't toy with me," you said weakly, but Sanemi only grinned in response, relishing the blush that bloomed across your cheeks as a sign of surrender.

"You should know by now I never play with my food," he murmured, his voice low and throaty as he pressed firmly against you. "I savor it." His hardened cock was palpable against your body as his hand moved downwards. He could feel the heat radiating from between your legs, a sign that even though your mind may be in denial, your body still craved him. Parting the front of your kimono, he made way for his fingers to slide into your slick folds. "You're dripping for me," he rumbled an edge of dark satisfaction to his voice. "You can fight all you want, but it's clear who you really belong to."

Sanemi's fingers eagerly dove within you with barely contained intensity. His movements were deep and steady, coaxing a chorus of moans from your lips. His kiss was intense, claiming your mouth with ravishing ardor. The time had arrived; the hunter was about to devour his target. Your hips rocked against his hand as he continued to explore your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. This was the endgame of the hunt, the primitive ritual that ended with ultimate claiming. In a blazing surge of passion, Sanemi, the Wind Hashira, was about to consume you, his eagerly awaited prey.

The constant rhythm of Sanemi's fingers drove you to the edge and then over it. Your moans built in volume until you were screaming out his name in pleasure, your legs clamped tight around his hand as if desperate for something more. You felt yourself build towards the climax, becoming lost in sensation as your breathing became more and more ragged.

When the orgasm finally hit, it was like a white-hot shockwave radiating from your core outward. You shattered beneath him, nails digging into the scars on his back as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Sanemi watched you break apart in front of him with a primal satisfaction that bordered on reverence. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, but instead of being concerned, he found them powerfully arousing, a sign of just how deeply you'd given yourself over to him. His own desire surged as he drank in every shuddering breath of pleasure you took, admiring the beauty of his work as you called out his name again and again.

Sanemi slowly dragged his fingers away from your quivering pussy, and the electric connection between you seemed to linger in the air. His gaze bored into yours with an unapologetic heat burning in his eyes. "You're so fucking beautiful when you fall apart for me," he whispered, his voice deep and thick with desire.

His free hand suddenly released your legs, which had been clamped around him like a vice grip moments before, and he pushed them apart gently to make room for himself between them. He pulled out his thick, eager cock, teasing it against your slick opening with a few shallow thrusts, coating himself in slippery arousal. A guttural groan escaped his lips as your tight heat enveloped the tip of him.

"You want me to claim you?" Sanemi growled, questioning but demanding all at once as he gripped your hips with both hands, holding you still for the imminent plunge. Without waiting for a verbal response, he thrust deep inside you in a powerful stroke, burying himself within you. You gasped at the sudden fullness, and Sanemi let out an animalistic groan as he began to move on top of you, claiming you with each deliberate thrust that was filled with primal intensity.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the clearing. Sanemi's breaths came in ragged gasps as he pounded into you with a savage need that sent sparks through your body. You felt his hard body pressing down on you with an intensity that burned like fire. His hands tangled in your hair as he yanked it back to expose your neck and shoulders, leaving them vulnerable to his kisses and bites. He leaned forward and growled in your ear, He growled in your ear, "You're mine, and I'll fuck you until you can't take anymore, until you're nothing but a whimpering, satisfied mess beneath me," then plowed into you with unfettered strength that lifted your body up from the ground.

"Sanemi! Yes, fuck, Sanemi!" Your whimpering cries rose up into the sky until they were lost in the chorus of animal howls and bird trills. Sanemi's entire being thrummed with savage pleasure as he felt you clinging to him, your nails carving a map of desire across his back. The way you said his name, the possessive grip on his body, it all sent a jolt of pure, animalistic satisfaction through his veins.

"Take it, love, take all of me," he panted, feeling the build-up of his own climax at the base of his spine. His movements became erratic, desperate, as he sought to quench the fires that raged within you both. With a final, raspy groan, his body stiffened, and he released himself inside you, filling you with endless hot ropes of cum.

Collapsing onto you, his body left yours spent and sated. His arms encircled your quivering body as if holding you gently in place against him. His forehead rested lightly against yours as his breath came in deep, labored gasps. With a low growl that vibrated from deep in his chest, he said one word, "Mine…" His lips brushed tenderly against yours before settling into a comfortable kiss that lingered long after the passion had burned away.

You responded to his touch by pressing yourself closer to him. Your fingers traced delicate patterns on the skin of his back and shoulders, soothing him even as the heat of your desire slowly returned. You murmured softly in between each gentle kiss, declaring your love over and over again until his body relaxed completely against yours. "I'm yours… missed you so much… so glad you're home, my love…"

Sanemi savored the sweetness of your kiss, feeling the warmth fill his chest with an unfamiliar contentment. His calloused hands cupped your face as you parted, tracing its features like a holy relic; every scar, bruise, and mark was precious to him. His gaze shifted to meet yours, intense yet filled with a gentle understanding. "I missed you too," he said quietly. "No matter what I face, I fight for you." The wind brushed over you like a blanket as you lay beneath the trees. Sanemi's heart ached with love, the only one who could bring him back down to earth after scaling great heights. He held on tightly to you, knowing that despite all odds, here was where he belonged.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

i like your writings so much! can i have a request with ramon salazar x male reader (guard or manservant) please?

Your orders and our bond

Ramón Salazar x male reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kiss, mention of injury

Summary : The family castle was hundreds of years old, there were many relics and weapons that not only had to be kept but also guarded. A bodyguard for treasures, a guard for the castellan but above all a meeting every hour again…maybe soon there will be more to say than just a silent nod and greeting.

info : thanks for the compliment dear anon i'm really glad you like it so much. Have fun with the fic and thanks for the request :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A castle had many inhabitants, there was the castellan and his wife, usually two children who were addressed as Lord or Lady even at a young age.

The walls were made of centuries-old stone and chopped down so that they functioned as a wall, stables for cattle and horses, a falconry perhaps if the terrain offered itself.

Above all, a castle is characterised by its employees, the servants who set everything up every minute so that everything seemed perfect, the chambermaids of the mistress who laid out the dress, a personal physician for the noble family and the guards to protect everyone.

Guards at the drawbridge, guards in front of doors and suffering guards who were always only a few metres away from the blue-blooded nobility to defend them.

That's how it always was and how it always would be, that's how it had been with the Salazars for generations and the Lord's Guard for generations.

For as long as he could remember he had guarded the lord, be it as a child with a wooden sword they had played together, ,,You are a true friend," little Ramón had told him when they were under pillows in an even greater castle than the one they lived in now.

They were the words of children, two children who, despite their differences, understood what it meant to have duties, the more Ramón learnt, the faster he learnt how to wield a sword.

They were two sides that seemed to move further and further away from each other, the childhood was over and with it he put on the cool armour and seemed like a stranger around Ramón hermum, ,,Good morning my lord" he greeted him every time the white-haired man disappeared into the relic collection, golden eyes showing him as much gratitude as the ‘monster’ could.

A monster as the others called the castellan behind his back, a horrible title he thought, from the moment a small golden-eyed boy had looked into the brave face of the little guard in the courtyard more than ten years ago, he had seen an uplifted spirit loyal to the house and a fool for science.

But now that the illness had spread further, the boy now a young man hiding behind make-up, the bond of youth seemed almost gone.

A bond better a sight that hurt him when Ramón gave him a look, he saw the suffering. ,,Shall I bring my lord anything else?" he had asked once more that evening as he led Ramón back to his room, the door between them open just an arm's length apart, a simple question that seemed to take the younger man a long time to answer.

A sigh escaped his pink lips, ,,I…I would appreciate it if you could accompany me to the relics tomorrow," came the surprising reply and the rustle of armour could be heard as he bowed almost automatically but the beating of his heart to finally be with his once so close friend seemed overwhelming.

‘Of course with the greatest pleasure Ramón my lord’ he replied and instead of the usual closing of the door the white haired man made the slightest of bows and murmured a “Good night” with a smile before closing the door and leaving the guard in the corridor.

A guard whose armour rattled slightly as he took up his position, as the smile on his lips increased and his heart beat so fast again, ,,Good night Ramón" he whispered to himself and perhaps this bond between them still had hope.

A hope that became apparent the next day when the cock's cry brought life to the castle with the rising sun and he was already tightening the strings of his armour to start his morning rounds.

The night watch until a few hours ago was usually exhausting, the walls cold and sleep scarce, but after those sweet words from his former friend, it seemed all the more futile.

,,Perhaps words can be exchanged?" he asked himself as he made his way up the stairs to Kastelann's chamber, the sword barely noticeable at his side but always at hand, something he didn't have to use yet but would give his life if he did.

It was not the honour of this office, it was the memory of Ramón, a Ramón who once did not seem to be plagued by illness, he would give everything to protect the white-haired man.

He knew the sounds by heart, the morning preparations, the bitter memory that Ramón did not show himself otherwise out of his own pain.

When the crack of the wooden door was heard, he saluted before looking at the smaller one, ,,Good morning, my lord," he greeted him, but this time he held out his hand, not in a kiss of decency but in a friendly gesture, ,,Your loyalty touches me, I look forward to the many hours ahead," the spanishman said with a hint of a smile on his lips.

A smile that was returned by a broad one as he was the protection, the companion and a friend at the same time before the two moved towards their destination.

But their hands continued to touch, Ramón's hand icy cold against his as they climbed each flight of stairs and rounded each corridor, the minimal quickening of his breathing and probably a pain he suppressed as he pursed his lips and they stopped.

The lip rouge, a bright pretty pink, a pink of spring and he hadn't wanted to stare but it was just too mesmerising, ,,Is something wrong?" his lord had said immediately, seeing the look closely.

Even though he had caught him, honesty was in the code of all the castle's employees and inhabitants, ,,Your…your lip rouge my lord is staring-I was staring because it reminded me of spring," the guard admitted, his gaze darting around, unable to meet the other's eyes.

He heard the uncertain, shaky sound of breathing and thought he was going to be struck down when Ramón raised his hand, ,,Is that true?" came the question instead, quietly, hardly believing that someone would associate him with something pretty.

Cold fingers surrounded by warm ones held him, ,,Yes it is," he replied, his heart beating faster than ever as he saw the look of surprise and uncertainty turn to one of gratitude and love, ,,Then you deserve more than my thanks," Ramón said after a moment of silence.

He had to stand on tiptoe towards the taller man, but the kiss left a light pink mark on his lips, an imprint of the spring.

An imprint that Ramón judged with a giggle and he held out his hand again, the guard looking at the castellan with a love-struck grin before hands joined again and a bond was reunited in the colour pink, spring and the hope of more together in the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[hlficlibrary]

hey!!! can you recommend fics with a big agegap (H being younger than L) ?

Hi, anon! So here are a few that fit what you're looking for!

The Money Mark by @brightgolden

Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

OR Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

Put In Them Hours by sweetums / @darlou

“How did the interviews go?” Liam asks later that same day.

Louis is over at their flat again, this time because he has no beer in his own fridge. Niall has the ability to magically conjure up beer so it’s only natural to migrate here.

“Good, good.” Louis says, looking far too interested in the bowl of crinkle cut chips in front of him.

“Okay. So, do you know who you’re choosing?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to two people.” Louis admits. “One of them is really well qualified. Her name is Caroline, she’s been an assistant in fashion for like ten years and we get along well.”

They boys nod along.

“And the other one?” Niall asks.

“He’s the love of my life.”

AU where Louis makes the poor decision of hiring an unfairly attractive assistant. Inspired by Rachel and Tag from Friends.

You smile all the time ('cause how can you not show it?) by thebreadvan / @thebreadvansstuff

Harry’s eyes unwillingly slip up to the doctor, scanning his features and the focused crinkle between his brows. His jaw looks sharp, especially when he clenches it, pearly teeth biting into his bottom lip. Harry admires the stubble growing on his cheeks, and the impressive cut of his cheekbones, and – the blush blooming from his cheeks down to his neck.

Harry blinks away, hoping he hasn’t been caught staring or made the man uncomfortable, but Dr. Tomlinson clears his throat and his leg starts bouncing beside Harry’s chair. Harry looks up again, and finds his face twisted into an undecipherable grimace.

“Uhm,” Dr. Tomlinson stammers, “Could you hold your tongue still for me?”

Harry stops breathing when he realises.

He is licking Dr. Tomlinson’s fingers.

Or, Harry never liked dentists, until now.

[nargacuga-tamer8000]

Hi, so you write short fan-fics (however its called) about MHST, right? So can i ask for one? Im kinda new to this concept but i’ll try

So can you write a short story (i’ll refer it that way, my English’s not the best) with Avinia? Basically that it takes place after the Oltura fight, Zellard & the cult were sparred but they didn’t truly learn their lesson & continued trying to destroy everything, and then they found out that Y/N has strong & special powers & they kidnapped Y/N & tortured him and forced her/him to use her/his powers in a way that the cult could make him their tool for world recreation & Avinia saves him? (A lil bit based off a fan fiction i saw with Alwin, Reverto, Cheval & Kyle saving Y/N from the oltura cult). No rush, you don’t have to

Interesting! I hope you like it!

Lost But Not Forgotten

When you turn up missing one day, Avinia feels uneasy for some reason. Luckily, her loyal Frostfang is on the case.

The winter winds bellowed and blew throughout the Loloska region. This was a sign to the people of Kuan that an even colder cold front was on its way, and the village needs to start prepping to keep everyone as warm as possible. Avinia stood outside the village gates with Frostfang behind her. The Barioth sneezed a little as a snowflake fell on his nose. His rider glanced at him to make sure he was alright and then turned her gaze on the horizon while brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. A frown came onto her face.

Where were you?

After Ratha had destroyed the windmills her and the village took so long to build, you had offered to help in any way possible to make up for it. Avinia took that to heart when she asked you to come back to Kuan and help her collect some firewood. And while you could be a scatterbrain, you were normally punctual when it came to someone asking for help. So that raised that question as to what trouble you got into. Frostfang suddenly appeared very alert.

"What's wrong?" She asked her monstie, but the Barioth remained vigilant, staring off into the distance as if he were in a trance.

For some reason, this made Avinia's heart beat frantically. She clutched her hands over her chest in some subconscious attempt to ease her racing heart, but to no avail. Her breath became shaky when Frostfang began to growl while taking a few steps forward.

"What is it?" She pleaded to her monstie, and this time the Barioth turned and leaned down on his left side. It was an invitation to get in the saddle. Avinia took no time in listening to him and hopping up.

The village would have to wait. Her monstie came first.

"Frostfang!" Avinia exclaimed as the Barioth took off faster than a Valstrax. It immediately got ten times colder as Frostfang flew higher and higher, making the wind worse too. Avinia began to feel sick as he flew in the general direction of the Lamure Desert. But she has never felt sick on her monstie before, so why now did she feel so uneasy. Only when the snow began to disperse and made way for warmer winds did Avinia start to understand.

Frostfang has behaved this way once before. And when that happened, she ran into you and Ratha. The idea that Frostfang sensed that you were in danger made her blood run cold.

Eventually, Frostfang landed outside the entrance to a tower in the middle of the desert. It appeared crumbled and abandoned. But despite the Barioth's obvious discomfort at the scorching weather, he began to move inside, forcing his rider to follow behind.

Once inside, Avinia was quick to get her and her monstie behind some crumbled stone when her blue eyes caught sight of some familiar-sounding armor. She herself has never lain eyes on these cultists, but you described them to her well enough for her not to be mistaken.

The cult that had wanted to summon Oltura was still at large.

Avinia heard that they were sparred, but they must not have stopped trying to find a way to bring back their god of a monster. She bet they were still after Ratha in some grotesque effort to sacrifice him. What is wrong with people?

Frostfang must have sensed the Rathalos in danger and wanted to help. She felt pride at her monstie's actions, but the sound of an elevator caught her attention. Avinia expected more of these deranged riders, maybe even Ratha was with them, but nothing could have prepared her for what she actually saw.

It was you. Stripped of your protective armor, covered in cuts, and chained. You looked awful.

She gasped and one of the cultist's monsties, a Nargacuga, glanced in her direction. Avinia covered her mouth with one hand, and used the other to hold Frostfang back so she could listen. The leader, who looked to be wyverian, was speaking to you.

"Are you ready to assist us, boy? " He stated coldly with his hands behind his back. You shakily lifted your head to meet his gaze. Blood had begun to drip into your eyes.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again...Never, Zellard." You sputtered. The wyverian's grip on his hands tightened, obviously pissed off.

"If you won't use your powers, then we'll just have to make you." Zellard threatened. Avinia, still hidden from sight, widened her eyes.

How did they find out about your powers?

Avinia knew about them a little while after she met you. Apparently, you could use your voice to get wild monsters to listen to you. And even more so, you could use powers of monsters, such as breathing fire or some other type of elemental attack. It was like you had the body of a human and the soul of a monster. It was one of the reasons you bonded with Ratha so well. Both of you had unfathomable power. How these guys found out, she had no idea. But with Oltura gone, they must want to use your powers in its place to bring the world to an end. Or worse, somehow bring that elder dragon back.

"Make me?" Your voice brought her back to reality.

With a nod to one of the cult riders, who hurried off down one of the corridors, Ratha was soon brought into view. He too was chained, but also drugged, making his powers worthless. The cultist who brought Ratha out then had a sword placed over his neck.

"You will create us a new world, or your Rathalos won't get to greet another dawn." The leader threatened with a sick grin.

Your eyes widened, clearly feeling the pain of not just yourself, but also your monstie. Tears soon began to spill, making Zellard laugh.

Avinia clenched her fists; she too had tears. How cruel, forcing you to choose between the life of your monstie or the death of the entire world. This time, she couldn't stop Frostfang from making their presence known as he leaped out and roared.

The Nargacuga from earlier, along with all the cult members, turned to look. Shock and anger began to move throughout the group, but you just look beyond stunned.

"Avinia?"

"Frostfang! Let's go!" She wasn't even upset or scared that they have been discovered. Avinia was going to save you, it was just a matter of when and how.

But how was she going to fight all these riders? Not to mention that Frostfang was going to get heatstroke soon. She had to think quickly, and her eyes scanned all the enemy monsties.

A Nargacuga, a Tigrex, a Purple Ludroth, and a Gendrome...

A small smile came to her face. None of these monsties could fly.

She urged Frostfang to take to the air and start firing ice cyclones. Two of the four monsties below struggled to move out of the way. Avinia used the large and open interior of this room to her advantage during the fight, and once Frostfang was ready, they unleashed their devastating kinship attack.

Once the air settled, the cultists and their monsties lay unconscious.

"We did it Frostfang!" She shouted victoriously as her monstie practically collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily from the fight and the heat. Avinia was quick to hop off and feel his skin which felt like it was on fire.

"Oh no, you're burning up..." She murmured pitifully as she stroked the Barioth's neck.

"Hey Avinia...up here." Your voice sounded weak, but there was still strength behind your words. She looked between Frostfang and you but eventually realized that all she could do was let her monstie rest. Running up to you, she began to undo your chains while trying to ignore the hissing you would do every time she accidentally brushed against a cut.

"Sorry." She whispered, hating to see you in pain. To your surprise, you laughed a little.

"Sorry? You just saved my life. And Ratha's too..." You said, a little out of breath by the end of your statement. It was clear that your body was weak even if your mind wasn't.

Avinia moved over to start freeing Ratha, the monstie still appearing out of it. But other than that, he was unharmed.

"Where did that wyverian go?" She asked, her senses on high alert with the fact that he was the only one not present.

"Zellard? He ran off when the fight began. Probably didn't want to get caught again...coward." You muttered while scooting over to lean against the way, closing your eyes.

Then you peeked one open to look at her as she checked Ratha over.

"By the way...how did you know we were here?"

"Frostfang sensed something. Like that time when I met you. He brought me all the way here...Oh no, Frostfang!" Avinia then remembered her weakened monstie that she had left behind. Running over to him, she found that he was still down, and breathing slowly. His skin still felt too hot. A Barioth's skin should feel like ice, and his felt like magma.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, my beloved Frostfang." She cried slightly while petting his head. While she was very grateful to have saved you, she loved her monstie with all her heart, and seeing him in any sort of pain brought her grief.

"Avinia, here."

Somehow you had stumbled down the stairs and over to her. You had some cool mist in your hand. But where...?

"Ratha has some supplies still in his saddlebag. Those cultists weren't looking for any loot." You said with a lopsided grin. Upon hearing his name, Ratha slowly got to his feet and stretched. The drug must've worn off enough that he could move again.

"Thank you, Y/N." Avinia said with a smile so bright it could make the sun jealous. Feeling flustered made you feel lightheaded. But before you went down, Ratha was quick to come over and catch you.

"Here Frostfang. This will make you feel better." Avinia said soothing while applying the cool mist to the Barioth's body. Within a matter of minutes, his skin felt cold to the touch again, and he was much more alert.

"I'm so glad you're okay! That you all are okay!" She said joyfully while hugging Frostfang before moving to hug you. But you just winced.

"Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Sorry!"

"It's alright. Thanks, Avinia. And you too Frostfang." You said with a slight laugh. She smiled at you while Frostfang lightly growled in acknowledgement. Leaning back on her knees, Avinia gave you a concerned look.

"How did those people know about your powers? And how did they find you?"

"It's a long story."

Looking back, you saw that Ratha had fallen asleep. Using his energy so quickly to catch you after being drugged must have taken a shock to his body. Avinia looked to see that Frostfang had fallen asleep as well. The heat shock and battle took a toll on him. Seeing as you guys weren't going anywhere soon, she scooted over to sit beside you.

"We've got time for a long story."

[writer-kermit]

hiiiii could you do nanamin and 9 ?? 🥰

Ofc because nanamin is literally bbg

"My heart still aches after sixteen years..."

ʚ No. 9 ɞ - Kissing Prompt Link

❥ PAIRING: NANAMI KENTO x READER

❥ GENRE: FLUFF

❥ REQUESTED OR SELF-MADE: REQUESTED

❥ W/C: 692

ঞ SUMMARY: Does your heart beat after you kiss someone? Why does that happen? Will we ever find out?

ᰔ KERMIT'S NOTE: This fic was requested by the one, the only @danibby! She amazing check her out now 😡 Anyways if you want to request me a prompt then ask on my inbox. If you want a commission then you can DM me!

ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ

July XX, 2007

It was ten o’clock at night. The summer festival was minutes away from being over, but you and Nanami Kento decided to stay for a while to watch the fireworks one last time.

As you both sat on the bench, your hands locked. Despite your eyes paying attention to the visual performance, you both enjoyed each other’s comfort.

“Wasn’t the festival lovely, Nanami?” You hummed, resting your head against Nanami’s shoulder. Nanami only nodded, trying his best to avert his eyes from you. You quickly took notice and decided to tease him just a bit.

“Nanamin~?” You sang, making his ears flush a bright red. He hates it when Gojo or anyone else calls him “Nanamin.” But with you, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you to stop. You snickered, amused by his bashful behavior. You poked his cheek, and he swatted your hand away.

“Cut it out.” He groaned, finally facing you. You took your chance and pressed your lips against his. His lips were soft, almost reassuring. It was a shame it only lasted for a few seconds. Nanami stood still, even after the kiss.

“Y-you…” He started, unsure of what to say. “That was my first kiss.” “Mine too.” You replied. The both of you went silent.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” You said. “I felt my heart beat faster than usual. Did you feel that too?” You looked at Nanami again. His face was still flushed. He had no response

It took him eleven years to answer your question.

July XX, 2023

“Shh… It’s okay. You’re okay.” You hushed, trying your best to soothe your newborn to sleep from the loud fireworks.

“Those fireworks are loud, aren’t they?” You gently stroked your baby’s face. Slowly drying the tears from their eyes. Eventually, your baby calmed down and fell asleep in your arms.

You smiled at your child, gently planting kisses all over their face. You place your baby back in their bassinet. You left the nursery room and slowly closed the door behind you. You went to the living room to see your husband, Nanami Kento gazing out the window.

“Are the fireworks still going?” You asked him. “Yes, they’re lasting longer than usual.” He replied. You shrugged his comment and stood beside him. “I don’t blame them. It’s the sixteenth anniversary after all.”

You sighed at the colorful night show across the luminous sky. It was a shame you couldn’t attend the festival this year. But despite all that, you were happier staying at home with your lover and child. As you were gazing, you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself at a familiar memory.

“What’s so funny?” Nanami asked you. “Hehehe… Remember our first date to the festival?” You asked Nanami, still giggling. “Yes?” “Well, we had our first kiss in the fireworks, and you were so flustered when I kissed you!”

Nanami’s face grimaced as he remembered his teenage years, but his face just made you laugh even harder.

“Yes,” Nanami sighed. “Perhaps we should recreate the moment.” You almost choked on your saliva when he said that.

“I’m sorry?” You said, almost in disbelief. “There’s no need to be sorry, love,” Nanami said, pulling you closer. “Do I have your permission?”

You almost forgot that this wasn’t the flustered and bashful Nanami you used to know. Over the years, Nanami evolved to be more assertive, more calm, and more charismatic. You let his words and charms consume the rest of your pride.

Your lips connected with Nanami’s, creating an unforgettable kiss. Every time you stop to catch your breath, Nanami pulls you in closer–chuckling at your squirming. His hands hugged your waist as you two stopped briefly, pulling you into a tight hug. You felt his unsteady heartbeat. Could it be from that kiss?

“Sixteen years…”

Nanami mumbled, resting his chin on the crook of your neck. “Sixteen years of what?” You asked him.

“We’ve been together for sixteen years. And whenever I kiss you like this, my heart still aches for you.” He kissed your neck, making you giggle again.

In the end, Nanami did answer your question.

[harudnae]

This is the NSFW fic I wrote for the @op-xreader-zine, with art from nastyhornz!

Also posted on AO3 on 2023.09.20

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Shanks x gn!Reader (no pronouns used)

Summary: Your girlfriend introduces you to her husband.

Content warnings : PWP, afab gender-neutral Reader (no pronouns used), post-timeskip (pre-Wano), alcohol drinking, kissing, groping, blowjob, penetrative sex (Reader receiving), cum shot

Word count: 2k

By now you have a good grasp of how deep it runs along with the kind of people it’s connected with all across the Blues, including the most feared pirates of the era. You’ve been at sea for long enough that you’re used to their codes, habits, and tendencies, and when it comes to trading with them, you trust your gut feeling because it’s never betrayed you.

- Who said information was the only thing worth trading?

Over the past ten years you’ve made a name for yourself in the Underworld.

Despite all this, one pirate remains inscrutable: Red-Haired Shanks.

You’ve been trading with him for years, yet you still can’t quite pin him down—not in the literal sense, though you wouldn’t mind either.

The man can be straightforward when he wants but he remains slippery, true to his reputation of powerful Yonkou under a relaxed facade. Such a strong energy, shrouded in mystery. Very handsome to boot, and sometimes flirtatious too, tiptoeing around the fine line between business and pleasure.

You’ve wondered what it’d be like to cross said line, too... To be fair, it’s pretty clear you’d been pining for each other for a while now, and it’s only out of professional caution that you never initiated anything. Still, it’s always a pleasant surprise when you answer your den den mushi to hear his voice. Civil and cautious as ever, you keep the conversation to the bare minimum.

“What do you want?”

“A headcount, and the whereabouts of anyone you can get currently residing on Hachinosu. A few millions if you’re in.”

You purse your lips and squint—on a weird stroke of luck, you just so happen to have most of the intel he’s looking for. “How many is a few?”

The den den mushi slightly smiles. “Fifty.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise. “You’ve got a deal.” You provide the name of a quiet port town along with a date and time. Once you get acknowledgement you hang up, spine tingling with excitement at the prospect of meeting with him soon.

On the agreed upon day, Shanks waits for you on the outskirts of town, a black cape wrapped around him with the hood up to conceal his identity. The half-baked disguise would fool a regular citizen, maybe a witless pirate, but you had traded with him often enough to know better.

Your heart beats faster as you recognize all too well his lopsided smile curving under the hood at your approach, but you avoid his gaze and keep an even pace as you walk past him.

He follows you into a deserted alley and proceeds with the exchange.

You merely comment, “That’s generous.”

“That was our agreement.”

“Those two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Shanks pulls his hood back, freeing a few red strands as he reveals his face.

“Thanks, as always,” he says.

You nod slightly. “My pleasure.”

“Say, I’m gonna have a drink in town. Wanna join me? My treat.”

You look back up and hold his gaze, full of mischief and determined. His offer is unusual, though somewhat unsurprising since the few conversations you’ve had together gave you hints of mutual interest, and it’s the first time he actually makes a move. A smirk curves your lips. “Why not?”

Shanks offers to go to an inn downtown, which is pleasantly lively yet not too crowded. As promised, he treats you to a drink, then another after tempting you into staying a little longer. On the surface he’s in it for the small talk, but you see the way he observes you, or the way his smile keeps growing as you indulge him in a silly, innocuous story.

You’re not drunk yet—making sure to keep valuable information to yourself— just pleasantly buzzed, enough for your gaze to linger a little longer on his lips or his hand as you chat, filing the mental images for later perusal.

Shanks leans a little over the table between you, making your cheeks heat up at the proximity. “Who do you work for, really?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You should know better than to ask me that, Red-Hair.”

He holds your gaze and drops his voice a little, “Too bad. I’d hate to have the hots for a World Government dog.”

“You’re not serious,” you jab back.

Shanks flashes you his lopsided smile again. “I’m always serious.”

You know for a fact that he isn’t, but you still take the bait. “And what makes you think I’d be interested too?”

He lifts a scarred eyebrow. “Never said that.”

A slip-up, that’s rare coming from you, when knowledge is power and your main source of revenue. You blame the beer for your sloppiness, rolling your eyes and evading, “Like you’re gonna say that just for the sake of it. Please, Red-Hair, I’m not naive.”

“Never said that you are, either; I wouldn’t be trading with you otherwise.”

You mentally slap yourself for the second example of carelessness that evening, and glare. “Fair.”

His smile grows larger. “But since you mentioned it... are you? Interested, I mean.”

You give him a quick once over. You know you should keep your guard up, but you let it down twice in a row just now; it’s been too long and the tension between you two electrifies the air at this point. You lick your suddenly dry lips.

“Do you really need to ask?”

Shanks hums. “I’ve got a room here, you know.”

You huff a light chuckle as you realize the whole drink-at-the-inn thing was well thought out. “Shall we?”

Shanks graciously leads the way upstairs and into his room. You’ve just stepped in when he locks the door and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his personal space.

A little short of breath, you quietly tease, “What’s the hurry?”

He bites his lower lip. “I waited too long,” he quietly confesses, and dives in for a kiss.

You almost melt at the contact, long-awaited and far better than your expectations, his lips soft and warm against yours. You lean into his touch, wrapping your hands around his shoulders for support, then moan into his mouth when he slides his tongue between your lips.

Shanks’ warm hand slides up and curls around the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, assertive and demanding as he walks you backwards, trapping you with his bulk against the closest wall.

When he finally leans back, you gasp for air and slide his cape off his shoulders, taking a moment to visually appreciate his strong build. Then you bring a hand to his chest, palming at a pectoral as you idly bite your lower lip.

“Like what you see?” he teases, flashing you his trademark lopsided smile.

You meet his gaze and counter, “Not enough yet.” You run your hands down his torso and undo the few buttons on his shirt before sliding the irrelevant garment off his broad shoulders.

Shanks braces his arm on the wall next to your head, still smiling, then he leans in and huskily asks, “What’s your trade?” His breath raises goosebumps where it lands across your neck in a sexier reenactment of your usual conversations.

Your head falls into the curve of his shoulder. Determined to get the best out of this situation, you set aside all thoughts of professionalism and crane your neck to murmur under his ear, “Fuck me.”

Shanks leans in again, just close enough that you can feel his smile against your skin as he goes on, “What’s in it for me?”

You exhale a quiet chuckle and tuck your thumbs into Shanks’ sash. You unwrap and drop it, then you push him back slightly. Then, holding his gaze, you sink to your knees, sliding his pants down on the way, revealing tented underwear.

His pupils widen and he lifts very interested eyebrows. “You’ve got a deal.”

You smile and slide his underwear down before leaning in, only breaking eye contact when you wrap your lips around his throbbing cock. You start slow and gentle, but a few encouraging moans later you’re properly blowing him off, holding his hips and coating his rock hard erection with spit.

Shanks groans when his tip rubs against the back of your throat, and his hips tense under your hands for a brief moment.

You lean back, running your tongue on the underside of his cock as you let it slide out of your lips. You look up and exhale a quiet pleased sound, a smile curving your lips.

Shanks is absolutely gorgeous, chest and shoulders moving with each breath, muscles taut with restraint, a curtain of red hair casting shadows across his handsome face.

Your eyes linger on his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips, then you meet his gaze, heavy and wanting.

Shanks gently rocks his hips forward, rubbing the head of his cock against your still drawn tongue. You curl your tongue under his frenulum, making him hiss then exhale a deep moan. Biting his lower lip in an obvious show of restraint, he slowly pushes further while his gaze drifts down to your mouth.

Acknowledging his carefulness, you softly hum and invitingly open your mouth wider.

Shanks’ scarred eyebrow briefly twitches, and after a brief hesitation he leans back to get out of your way.

Mildly disappointed, you lick your lips and throw him a curious glance.

Shanks squats down, his intense gaze diving into yours as he cups your chin and tilts it up. His warm breath fans over your lips when he says, “You sure know how to trade.” And he dives in to claim your mouth.

You’re almost out of breath when he finally breaks the kiss and pulls you up so you’re both standing again.

Shanks’ wandering hand raises goosebumps on your back where it snuck under your shirt, and there’s mischief in his smile when he next says, “I’ll hold my end of the deal, then.”

Flattered by his eagerness, you crack a smile and exhale a soft chuckle, then gasp when he flips you around, pushing you against the wall once more with his strong body.

Shanks leans back and pulls your bottom garments down in one swift movement, taking a moment on his way back up to slide his fingers across your inner thigh.

You step out of your clothes and brace your arms on the wall, curving your back for better access. Your breathing gets heavier once his fingertips find your folds, spreading the wetness there and teasing your entrance.

Shanks’ fingers are removed too soon, only to be replaced by his spit-coated cock that he slides into you without further ado.

Your fingers curl against the wall and you exhale a lewd moan once he’s sheathed in. “Oh, fuck...”

“Oh yeah”, Shanks growls, and he starts thrusting into you right away, hard and fast.

With every other sinful sound passing past your lips under his ministrations, you feel his cock throbbing into you, stretching you further, and you bet he’s close already. You turn your head around and bite your lower lip at the view.

Tanned skin glistening with sweat over taut muscle, brow furrowed in the effort, pretty lips slightly parted, dark gaze locking with yours–Shanks is close alright, and you’re not faring much better. His hand slides from your hip to your back, tracing the dip of your spine up to the back of your neck, pushing you against the wall while he fucks you silly.

A harder thrust makes you see stars lingering behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. You slide a hand down and press it over your swollen clit, reaching for the orgasm that’s been building up inside you. Your inner walls flutter around Shanks who pounds deeper in return, finally sending you off the edge.

You’re just starting to come down from cloud nine when he pulls out and tucks his cock between your ass cheeks.

Shanks cums with a series of heavy moans, throbbing against you and painting your lower back with cum. After he leaned back and helped clean you up, he asks, “You won’t tell me who you work for, huh?”

“Mhm. The only thing I can say is that the Underworld and the World Government don’t really mix.”

“Ooh, is that so?”

You have a feeling he already knew that, so you simply shrug.

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to require another trade, soon.”

[artificialqueens]

Awake My Soul (Sasha Colby x Anetra) - Athena2

Summary: After Sasha walks into the coffee shop where Anetra works, Anetra makes some discoveries about herself.

A/N: So this was inspired by the Blame It on the Edit episode, where Anetra is just talking about how hot Sasha is. I thought it would be a fun idea for a fic. That said, thank you so much to Writ for all your help! Thank you for brainstorming ideas with me and helping develop this. Please leave feedback if you like!!

Anetra tightens her apron in preparation as Luxx unlocks the coffee shop door. A few minutes pass before the first customer, and she actually makes Anetra’s jaw hang open.

The woman is absolutely beautiful, even from afar. Dark brown hair falls over her shoulders in gentle waves, thick and glossy. Her skin is smooth and soft and actually seems to glow like in a commercial, despite the coffee shop’s dim lighting and windows that receive no sun. Looking at her instantly makes Anetra’s face burn, makes her stomach twist into knots, and it only grows worse when the woman reaches the counter, and is suddenly close enough to touch. Close enough for Anetra to see that her eyes are hazel, with flashes of green and gold, like sunlight shining through leaves. Eyes that are looking at her expectantly.

“I can help you?” she half-asks, half-shouts, the heat spreading from her face and into her stomach. “Sorry. I mean, can I help you?”

“Can I get a large coffee with caramel syrup and one cream?”

Anetra nods and begins typing it into the register, grateful for something to focus on besides staring at the woman. “Um, for here or to-go?”

“To-go.”

Anetra grabs a to-go cup and taps the marker against it. “I just need…” She makes the mistake of meeting the woman’s eyes again, and her train of thought flies off the track and into space. The seconds tick by, and Anetra is still tapping the marker against the cup as she scrambles for what she’s supposed to ask. She feels like a wind-up toy made solely for this purpose, and her face is on fire. “Um, your name. For the order?”

“Sasha.”

It’s a pretty name, a soft name, and Anetra writes it on the cup with the soft smoothness it deserves. The woman pays, and counting out change gives Anetra something else to focus on, before she grabs the cup and order ticket and flees from the register, sighing at the coffee station.

“What are you doing?” Luxx demands, because Anetra can’t even have a second’s peace today. “Are you lesbian panicking over that woman?”

Anetra’s heart skips a beat just at the thought. “I’m not lesbian panicking, I’m…I’m regular panicking. I’m not even—I don’t even like women.” She was too shy to even look at the other girls for most of high school.

Luxx blinks. “Okayyyyy,” they say, drawing it out for about ten syllables.

“I don’t. I’ve never liked a girl or anything, and I had this boyfriend in middle school.” Though come to think of it, Anetra was never really sure if she liked him the way boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to. He had nice hair, and didn’t make fun of her for being quiet, or for being faster than the boys in gym, so that was something.

“Did you have a boyfriend, or did you have some boy who held your hand at lunch and said he was your boyfriend and then broke up with you twenty-four hours later?”

Anetra crosses her arms. “I’m not answering that.”

“Look, I’m not blaming you. She’s really hot.”

“She is,” Anetra breathes. “Oh my god. Am I lesbian panicking?”

“I think you need to sort that out yourself.”

And then Luxx abandons her, the first time today Anetra didn’t want to be alone. Her brain works in overdrive as she gets Sasha’s coffee ready.

Sasha’s pretty, yes, but anyone would objectively say she’s pretty. Luxx just did. Besides, Anetra’s found girls objectively pretty before, without it meaning anything; doesn’t everyone? But something about Sasha feels like more than that. Anetra physically has to stop herself from looking at her. Looking at her feels like what she always thought love was supposed to feel like—the animated hearts in cartoons, the endless staring in rom-coms. But since when were rom-coms realistic anyway?

Any further thinking is cut off by the hiss of an espresso maker as Luxx works, and Anetra takes it as a sign to forget this stupid panic and finish making her order. She sighs and returns to the counter, where Sasha is waiting. It sends a jolt through Anetra, one that grows when their fingers touch as Sasha takes the coffee.

“Have a good day,” Anetra says.

“You too.”

Then Sasha is gone, and Anetra bends over the counter and buries her still-burning face in her hands.

—–

“A little birdie told me someone was lesbian panicking yesterday.”

“Mistress, it’s too early to be this loud.” Anetra starts the morning with her head in her hands again, trying to block out the onslaught from Mistress on her right and Luxx on her left. “And it wasn’t lesbian panicking.”

“Bisexual panicking?” Mistress asks, undeterred.

Anetra sighs.

“She was so far gone,” Luxx announces gleefully. “I mean, the woman was gorgeous, so I don’t blame her, and—look, she’s back!”

Anetra’s head flies up so fast her ponytail whips around and smacks the back of her neck. Sasha is in the doorway, and the sight of her makes Anetra’s stomach twist again. Maybe it wasn’t a crush at all. Maybe it was just indigestion. Maybe she’s having some sort of internal issues and she’ll just collapse here because she can’t stop staring at Sasha and her brain is shutting down and—

“One of you should wait on her,” Anetra says quickly.

Mistress claps her hands to her chest. “Oh, but I just remembered I need to check on those scones.”

“And I…need to help her check the scones,” Luxx says, sprinting after her.

Anetra swears softly. “Can I help you?” she asks Sasha. It’s right on the first try, and it makes Anetra buy into the indigestion theory again. This isn’t a crush, and she’s not lesbian panicking.

“What do you have that has a lot of caffeine? I’ve been up since four, and it’s gonna be a long day.” She runs a hand through her hair. The collar of her shirt falls to the side, revealing the soft curve of her shoulder, dotted with freckles and beauty marks.

The entire coffee shop menu promptly flies out of Anetra’s brain.

“I, um, I…let me check with my coworker.” Anetra runs into the kitchen like she’s escaping a fire. The dumpster fire of her life, maybe.

She grabs the portable fan Mistress keeps for when she’s working near the ovens and aims it at her face on full-blast.

“This is so bad,” Luxx says to Mistress, in a whisper that’s not a whisper.

“What do we have with a lot of caffeine?” Anetra chokes out. “I need to tell her something, she’s out there waiting—”

“Okay, breathe first,” Mistress says, and Anetra does, her body starting to function again, like a rebooted computer. “Tell her to get a blonde roast or one of the cold brews.”

“Right.” Anetra nods desperately, then takes a breath and goes back to the counter. Sasha is waiting patiently, like the wait didn’t even bother her.

“Sorry,” Anetra says. “I just wanted to check. But we have a nitro cold brew you can get with different syrups. You like the caramel one, right?” Her brain remembers that much from yesterday, but she hopes it doesn’t look creepy to remember that.

“Right.” Sasha grins. “Okay, I’ll have that.”

Anetra manages to keep her brain working as she completes the order, and hands it off without a problem.

—–

Sasha is back the next day, and it should be easier for Anetra to get a hold of herself on the third try, but it gets harder, because Sasha is wearing a purple dress that fits like it was meant just for her.

“I think Anetra stopped functioning,” Luxx says to Mistress. Anetra barely hears it, because she did, in fact, stop functioning.

“Yeah,” Mistress agrees. “I’m gonna have to be the adult here, aren’t I?” She sighs and heads to the counter, taking Sasha’s order, then pressing the cup into Anetra’s hand. “Can you get the order done?”

Anetra nods, staring at the order slip until the letters make sense.

“So, what do you do?” Mistress asks Sasha, and Anetra listens in while she fills the cup.

“I own a dance studio,” Sasha says. “I teach and choreograph a lot of the classes.”

“Anetra, did you hear that?” Mistress calls, despite the fact that Anetra’s just a few feet away. “Sasha’s a dance teacher. I bet she’s really flexible.”

“Maybe not as much as when I was a kid, but yeah, I still got it,” Sasha says with a smile.

Anetra’s face could not be hotter if she dipped it into the espresso machine. That might actually be preferable to putting up with this.

“I heard,” she says.

“Anetra can dance too,” Luxx says loudly.

“I’m not trained or anything,” Anetra says, trying to deflect. She’s already thinking about Sasha dancing, about how graceful her arms and legs probably are. Her heart is pounding.

Sasha shrugs. “I’ve seen great dancers with no training.”

“She has no training at all, she’d need lots of practice,” Luxx begins, but that’s too much even for Mistress, who quickly starts talking over them.

“And Anetra teaches too. She does taekwondo lessons sometimes.”

“You do?” Sasha turns to Anetra, whose face burns once again at having Sasha’s eyes on her, with nowhere to hide.

“Yeah. Just part-time,” Anetra manages, passing Sasha her coffee.

“That’s really cool.” Sasha smiles shyly. “This is probably a stupid question, but do you know how to break boards? Or is that just something people do in movies?”

“No, it’s a real thing. I know how to do it.”

“That’s amazing. You must be really strong.” Sasha’s eyes sparkle, and Anetra is captivated at the thought of Sasha being impressed by her and her strength.

“I’m kinda strong,” Anetra says. “I usually lift all the flour and stuff in the back.”

Sasha’s smile grows. “I bet.” She finally takes her coffee, her fingers brushing against Anetra’s, and Anetra’s just grateful the cup is out of her hands, because she absolutely would have dropped it. She can still feel the lingering warmth and softness of Sasha’s fingers even after she leaves.

Luxx swarms Anetra, throwing an arm around her. “Look at you! You made it through a conversation with a gorgeous woman for like a whole minute! How do you feel?”

Her head is spinning, the lights floating in dizzying circles. “Like I just got off a roller coaster and want to throw up.”

“That’s the spirit!” Luxx cheers.

—–

Anetra is a few minutes early the next morning, and spends it hunched over a table in the kitchen, scrolling through search results on how to know if you’re gay and even delving into a few quizzes that ask her questions she doesn’t know how to answer, pointing to results she doesn’t know how to react to.

“What are you doing?”

Anetra jumps. “Nothing, just looking at stuff,” she says, trying to tilt her phone screen away from Luxx’s prying eyes.

It doesn’t work, and Luxx’s face shines with a mix of horror and adoration. “You are not taking an ‘Am I Gay’ quiz. You’re not.”

“I’m just…really confused about how to know for sure.” Anetra shrugs, closing the window on her phone. Her feelings for Sasha sure seem like a crush, but how does she know? Why does it feel so different?

It softens something in Luxx a little. “Anetra, I know we’ve been annoying you all week, but seriously. You’ve been trying to convince yourself this isn’t a crush, but don’t you think doing that kind of proves that it is?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I don’t know, do you think straight people spend as much time as you have convincing themselves they’re straight? I know it’s scary to realize you’re not straight, and it’s really hard. Sometimes it takes a long time to realize it. But if it feels right…maybe you shouldn’t deny that? And you don’t have to go through some giant change or anything if you do. You can just acknowledge it and work on it slowly.”

“Since when did you get so smart?” Anetra asks, because it’s easier to say that than to describe the heavy feeling in her chest at Luxx’s words. The weird feeling she’s had all week, and doesn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve always been smart,” Luxx says, and then they swing out of the kitchen.

Is Luxx right? Has Anetra spent the whole week trying to convince herself that she’s straight? How does she know for sure? Because the quizzes and other google tabs she had open weren’t helping much.

Anetra sighs. She guesses, if she really thinks about it, that her objective noticings of girls might not have been that objective. She suddenly remembers the smug smile of a taekwondo opponent when she was twelve, how it almost distracted her into losing the match. It causes a domino effect in her, and she thinks of how easy it was to say she was too focused on sports or school to date boys, because there were none she ever really wanted to date in the first place. Even now, when she had time for dating, no guys ever caught her eye. She deleted her dating app minutes after signing up, because scrolling through all those mens’ pictures just made her feel nothing. She’d always blamed it on guys not meeting her standards, but what if she’d just been looking in the wrong place? Or not letting herself look in the right one, really. There were times when she knew she noticed women more than what was probably normal, and just ignored it, not letting herself even consider that it could mean anything. Not wanting to admit that she could be anything besides what she was always told was normal.

“I think I’m a lesbian,” she says quietly, just to herself, to see how it feels. It doesn’t feel like some grand revelation; there’s no sky opening up, no light shining down. But it feels right inside her somehow. Like maybe all those things she tried to ignore—the girl in taekwondo, how she was always mesmerized by the clinking of her classmates’ charm bracelets, why she could never feel excited about boys—are finally explained, finally adding up to something beyond confusion.

And maybe Luxx is right—again, Anetra thinks—that it doesn’t have to feel like some big change. Maybe it can be small right now, and she can work it out from there. She can admit she has a crush on Sasha, and talk to her. She can let herself look at other girls instead of turning her head away.

She heads outside. Sasha is at the counter, and even though Luxx could have taken her order, she’s waiting. Almost like she was waiting for Anetra. The thought makes her heart flutter, and that tingling in her stomach is still there, but it doesn’t make her feel sick this time.

“Hey, Sasha,” Anetra tries.

“Hi.”

“What would you like today?”

“I actually wanted to give you something.” Sasha slides her a piece of paper. “When you work out whatever’s been going on in that head of yours—and trust me, I’ve been there,” Sasha says kindly, “you might want this.”

She slips out the door as Anetra looks at the paper to see a phone number, one that steals her breath and has her counting down the minutes until her shift ends.

[racfoam]

I am so ashamed that I skipped over Lily, James and Snape in 1st Wizarding War AU, here is some scenes in no particular order (Harry is 24 in the fic, Lily and the Co are 18 in the first meeting scene)

Lily

Harry collided with something — no, someone. Momentarily, the colour of orange autumn leaves filled her sight. Both Harry and the person — a woman — groaned at the colission, stumbling back from each other.

Opening her eyes, Harry was met with vibrant green eyes. They were the colour of spring grass, fresh leaves. They held entire forests of trees within them. Momentarily, Harry thought she had collided with a mirror, because those were Harry’s eyes.

The heart stopped beating inside her chest as she gazed upon the face of a witch, with long beautiful red hair and emerald green eyes.

Somehow, someway, Harry managed to breathe in, ignoring the sudden flood of tears welling in her eyes the longer she stared at her mother.

“I’m sorry —” started Harry, her voice mixing with a gentle one's, one Harry knew from dreams and memories, one that refused to step aside for Voldemort, the same voice that encouraged Harry on the graveyard, the same voice that told her she would always be with her.

They both stopped, blinking, confused by the other's apology.

“Sorry about that,” said Harry quickly, waving her wand at Lily's books without saying a thing. They floated up and back into Lily's bag. “I usually don’t crash into people.”

Lily raised her eyebrows.

“I'm Harry,” Harry burst out before she could cower, internally wincing at the little squeak in her voice.

Lily peered at her. She was the same height as Harry. “Have we met before?”

Harry forced out a dry laugh. “No. I'd remember if I met a beautiful witch like you.”

Lily chuckled. “You remind me of my boyfriend. He makes silly one-liners, too.”

James

A voice coughed, loudly. Clearly, it intended to be heard. “Being a Chaser is better.”

Harry knew that voice, a confident, masculine tone. She froze up. She forgot how to breathe. Slowly, she turned her head to the table where it had come from.

Unruly, short black hair and rectangular spectacles behind which piercing brown eyes stared. A six-foot-one young man stood across from her.

James Potter offered an awkward smile.

“Sure, the Seeker gets the glory, but it's the Chasers that keep the game going to give the team the advantage. Ten points can make or break the game.”

Harry continued gaping like a fish out of the water.

“Sorry," he said, and Harry saw so much of herself in him. “I really like Quidditch. I ramble about it. Tend to do that a lot, actually, about the things I love, now that I think about it... Only my girlfriend can stop me when I start.”

“I ramble, too,” said Harry suddenly, her mouth faster than her brain. It was probably the silliest first words to say.

Then again, she inherited that trait from the wizard in front of her.

Snape

“Oh," said Harry, pausing at the sight of a young man beside Voldemort. The greasy hair falling down his head and curtaining his face gave it away. “Sorry. The doors were open...”

“Not at all, darling,” said Voldemort. “Severus and I were just finished with our discussion. Dare I say, you are right on time.”

Harry was impressed not to see Snape flinch at Voldemort's cold voice. Even this young, with only a year out of Hogwarts, Snape was clearly made of tougher stuff.

Voldemort appeared completely at ease despite the interruption, smoothly transitioning into introductions. “Severus, this is Harriet Potter. Harriet, this is Severus Snape. A promising young potioneer. He is only a year out of Hogwarts, but has already proven himself a very capable wizard.”

I bet... thought Harry, fighting back from frowning.

“Nice to meet you,” said Harry politely, offering a hand. Snape glanced to Voldemort, and upon the elder wizard's nod (like Voldemort was giving Snape permission), Snape shook Harry's hand quickly, then let it go, as if burned, like holding Harry's hand a moment longer would give him a deadly disease. His hands were certainly that of a potioneer.

“Honoured to meet you,” said Snape, and Harry was surprised by how respectful the drawling voice was.

“You may go, Severus.”

The chill of Voldemort’s voice would be enough to make anyone other than Harry and Aurors cower. Snape showed no signs of fear. Instead, he bowed his head to Voldemort, and swept away, out of the drawing room, closing the doors.

“Interesting kid,” said Harry thoughtfully.

“Severus is hardly a child,” said Voldemort. “He is the most mature of all the witches and wizards his age.”

Harry decided to drop the subject.