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foreverdolly · 2 years ago

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Dolly’s 2.5k Sleepover Celebration !!!

congratulations on 2.5k! you’re so deserving of it baby 💗 !

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

for my request: i would like daddy!dom elvis, number 12, number 55, and soulmates trope!

“I had a dream about you last night” and “I’ve never done this before…”

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 | 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompts: "i had a dream about you last night" and "i've never done this before. . . " with the soulmate trope.

word count: 2.1k

song: power of my love - elvis presley

notes/warnings: this is 70s elvis, so there is a brief mention of pill abuse. i might have taken a different direction than what you wanted, but i know that you're a hopeless romantic and thought that you might have enjoyed this a lil bit more. i hope you like it!

She was always so lovely. Big eyes and a beaming smile that made him melt like morning frost. She was the woman of his dreams- the one that made him fall in love without even knowing her. That was what a soulmate was supposed to do though, right? Make you fall instantly. He felt connected to her, almost as though there was this invisible string that connected the two of them. Elvis remembered the first time he told his parents about the dreams. His father was happy for him: Elvis had his passion with music and a newfound goal, which was to find her.

The same way that Vernon had found Gladys on that hot summer day during a church revival. Two months later they were skipping town, borrowing a ten dollar bill from their friend just to get married.

“She was four years older than me. . . but I didn’t care ‘bout that none. She was the girl I’d been dreamin’ ‘bout all’a my life- and there she was, starin’ at me from across that ole’ linen tent. She was real. And she was mine. If I could’a married her right then. . . I would have.”

Gladys wasn’t as happy for her son as Vernon had been. The “dreams” meant that he was growing up. He was shedding the skin of his boyhood, a reminder to his mother that Elvis wasn’t going to stay her baby forever.

The bout of insomnia started right after he joined the military. It was ironic- in a macabre kind of way though. The only times he felt true happiness was when he was sleeping, and yet he barely got any shut eye. That was when the addiction started, he thinks. Most nights he couldn’t drift off at all without the help of a pill. He needed to see her to stay sane. He kept the bad habit up once he got back to Memphis, and without his mother there to scold him, there were no consequences to his actions. There was no one there to nag him or lead him in the right direction. Because even if he was strung out on sleeping pills and opioids, he was still making money.

And boy, was he making money.

The nights got lonely with nobody to spend them with. The house was too big to be empty the way that it always was. It hurt his heart. When Miss Mary removed her apron and turned off the oven to head home, the solitude began to sink in. The hallways got darker, the rooms felt larger, and not even the sound of his piano could drown out the silence.

Vegas wasn’t any better. Elvis wasn’t just sinking- the man was drowning. All he could do was flail his limbs out, clawing for some solid land to cling to. His mother was gone, him and his father often fought like cats and dogs, and the Colonel wasn’t the same man that he had been towards the beginning of his career. All of his friends were on his payroll, the girlfriends never saw him outside of who he was up on stage, and it felt like Elvis was nothing but a figure. It was almost like he wasn’t a real person. Sometimes it was hard for him to even remember who he was outside of the flashy wardrobe and spotlights.

Without a microphone in his hand Elvis was just a man.

A lonely one at that.

But the woman in his dreams was still out there. She was waiting for him, he could just feel it. He watched her grow up from his mind's eye, and saw the way that time had changed her. The musician knew that he would be more than willing to settle for a friendship- anything. Just so long as he could have her.

And then it happened. That. . . that thing.

His eyes searched the crowd just like they always did, wanting to connect with all of the unfamiliar faces. So he sang from the depths of his soul, his fingers trembling as he gripped the mic even harder in his large palm. Elvis wanted to reach out to all of them, and for everyone to see him.

Really, it was a cry for help.

Because he was still just that poor boy from Tupelo. And while he didn’t have to stand up on a crate to reach the microphone anymore, he was still putting on the same sort of show. Just a boy and his guitar- destined for greatness. Reaching out for love and acceptance. Desperate. Hungry. Searching.

And then your eyes met. And Elvis remembered his father’s words.

“If I could have married her right then. . . I would have.”

It all clicked into place.

The singer forgot who he was when he finally stumbled off stage, tearing at his sweat covered scarf and heading towards the doors that led to the casino ballroom. Out into the crowd. He couldn’t stand to be away from you for even a second. Not anymore. Not ever again. He wouldn’t be able to take it. Jerry had to yank him by the back of his white jumpsuit, keeping him from being surrounded by a screaming mob. They would no doubt tear him apart after he put on a show like the one that he had just performed. He could still hear the women’s shrill voices calling out for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were one of them.

“I-I need. . .” Elvis was panting- breathless. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the show or the fact that he had finally found you. It could very well be both. “Orange dress. S-She was in the third row. Bring her to me.” He was practically speaking in riddles, but Jerry knew better than to question him.

The dyed brunette didn’t want to leave the side stage. He wanted to wait right there until Jerry had finally found her, but he was being gripped at the elbows and numbly ushered over towards the employee elevator.

Everything after that was a blur. He was taking a shower by instinct alone, and the same thing with getting dressed. By the time that he finally woke up out of his shocked stupor he was sitting on the couch, his wet hair dripping into his eyes and onto his clothed shoulders. There was a knock at the door, which roused Elvis from whatever daze he was in.

“E.P?” It was Jerry’s familiar voice that called out to him.

It had the man bracing his hands on his long legs as he stood up to his full height, practically stumbling through the penthouse suite. There was a possibility that you had slipped out of the hotel before Jerry could find you. Or. . . or maybe you wouldn’t want to see him. You could have turned Jerry away, and there would have been nothing he could do about it. The fact of the matter was that Elvis had been in the public eye for years. He had traveled all over the state, so why was this the first time he had ever seen you? He would have moved heaven and hell just to catch a glimpse of you. . . so why?

But there you were in the doorway, your small frame dwarfed behind Jerry as he acted as a buffer to introduce the two of you.

Your hands and knees were shaking. You stood there and stared like a deer in headlights as Jerry spoke your name, motioning a hand between the two of you. Elvis repeated your name under his breath, trying it out on his tongue. Tasting it.

“Do ya wanna come in?” Elvis finally asked after what felt like an eternity of just staring at you.

In his eyes you were the celebrity, and not the other way around.

You straightened out then, your back rim-rod straight as you tossed a nervous glance up at Jerry. There it was again. . . the fear that you didn’t want to see him. He was terrified that this might be the last time that he’d ever get to see you. It had his eyes searching both of your hands wildly, trying to see if there was a ring.

What would he have done if there was one?

Die, probably.

“Ya don’t have t’come in. . . we can jus’ grab some supper-”

“N-No. . . I’ll come in.” Your voice was soft and sweet.

It was his first time ever hearing it. While your face was familiar, everything else. . . that was all new. It would have been horrifically dramatic, but the sound of it nearly had him weeping. He swallowed thickly, nodding his head before closing the door behind you, shutting Jerry out.

“You know. . .” It was difficult to breathe in his presence, and as you looked up at him you found it hard to look at his face for too long. It was one thing to watch him on television or have his posters up in your room. . . but to stand in front of him was completely different. He was no longer a God up on a grand stage, but a man. A man that was staring at you with the softest eyes.

You couldn’t help but admire his undone hair, his long bangs wet and hanging in his eyes. He was even more beautiful like this. He looked just as nervous as you currently felt.

“Now, there’s no need’a be shy. Ya can talk’ta me, promise.” His black velvet voice surrounded you. His blue eyes softened on your face.

And you believed him.

“I dreamed about you last night.” It was hard feeling this vulnerable. He was yours, so there was no reason to feel so ashamed of opening up. The both of you were like two sides of the same coin.

His lips twitched up into a smile, and he was quick to look off to the side and pretend to focus on anything else that wasn’t your lovely face.

“If I had gotten any shut eye last night. . . then I definitely would’a dreamt of ya too.” And then it was your time to look all shy, your cheeks warming with embarrassment.

He could have devoured you in one bite.

Elvis took his time comparing your small size to his. He started at your hands, then your height- the way you only reached his chest. You were like a little baby- his baby. The overwhelming urge to protect you was difficult to fight off.

It was animalistic. Primal.

“I-I’ve never. . . I’ve never done this before.” You finally spoke up after the silence had stretched on a bit too long for your liking. While you were enjoying the fact that you were finally in his presence, you were beginning to feel nervous all over again.

He was a famous musician, afterall. He had called you up to his private room. Despite the fact that you were a virgin, you knew what this must mean for him. Still, he blinked down at you in confusion. After a few seconds of putting two and two together he spluttered, his eyes widening.

“I didn’t call ya up here just’a have sex with ya, honey. I might not look it, but my mama raised a gentleman,” He reached out and took one of your hands in his. The feeling of your soft skin against his own nearly sent him to his knees. “I-I’ve been searchin’ so long for ya. . . I just wanna talk to y-”

“I want to.” You spoke up, knowing you weren’t going to stay this brave forever. You’d never spoken to a man in such a lewd manner, yet here you were. Letting him know that you had gotten on that elevator all the way to the top floor, all while knowing you were going to have sex with him. Knowing and wanting it.

“I just need to know that you’re not going anywhere afterwards. I won’t be able to do it-”

“We could get married tomorrow if you’d like. I know a guy.” It was his turn to interrupt.

It was the hurried, nearly panicked way he spoke to you that had your lips turning up into a grin.

And then a laugh escaping you.

“My daddy married my mama after just two months. I’m not sure that I could hold off for that long. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you.”

You.

The girl that he had loved even in his adolescence. The woman in his dreams.

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

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devoutpriest · 8 months ago

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wildmoored:

A wry smile turned up the corners of Godric’s lips, and for a moment he hesitated, for his disagreements were many, and most of those were not the kind to share with strangers. To explain those reasons would be to expose his magic, and he had no wish for that debacle at present. He was a wizard, friends with Helga, and had a wand from Ollivander's. “Forgive me, friend, but those are personal, and deeply rooted within my family. To follow the Christian god was to be dishonest to mine own heart and mind. And I’ve long believed that to acknowledge a lack of faith is better and truer than to promote false faith. I had little initial belief to even leave by the time I first came to Uppsala. Any good memories I have of the years when I called myself a Christian had little to do with the religion, and more to do with my family while my brothers and my father still lived.” Athelstan mentioned the statues and so Godric looked up at them, grand and impressive, certainly sights to inspire - and yet his response to his countryman was a simple “No.” He elaborated. "I never saw the statues until a few years ago – my first time here was maybe two years after the family I met had last come to the temple. I’ve work and other obligations that take me far from here – to the golden pyramids in Cairo and beyond even there. And I’ve spent most of my life going from one place to another. But still I carry the gods with me. I do not believe them stuck inside something carved by the hands of men - they are everywhere, and so too their strength does not leave me, even under the southern sun… when perhaps I need it the most.“ Godric nodded along with Athelstan’s story, HMMing or saying ’RIGHT’ in the appropriate spots. "I’ve heard a great many things about Earl Ragnar, though I’ve yet to meet him." He hears him speak quietly about Ragnarok, nigh whisper, understanding this man was confused about viking customs. Was he not met well with his curiosity in Kattegat? "The world passes by very differently here, compared to back home, doesn’t it? Our people were not always Christians - we used to believe in gods just like the Norsemen. To come here feels like returning to my roots - do you ever have this thought?”

Athelstan notices the smile on the man’s lips. It looked illuminated by the candles, and scant natural light forcibly dispersing into the temple.

He nods, accepting the man’s apology in stride, as blood was splattered on his face, as the priest spattered in all journeyers here. The priest had paused upon seeing him, sensing something different about him. Then he splashed onto his face, trickling into his goatee, hair on his chin. It was strange having more hair once more, as he had been used to tonsure during monastic time. He had cut his skull with a knife to shave, feeling lonely of God abandoning him, the monks abandoning him and mocking him in the darkness. Offence was not taken in any way, even if the man had not apologized for denying him.

“Of course, and I do not wish to intrude in any way. Yet, were you ever afraid what people may think of you, when acknowledging such? I am sorry to hear of your brothers and father’s demise, and I hope that they are at peace in Heaven.”

This man seemed so much more assured of where he stood in his faith than Athelstan.

“How was your experience in visiting the Cairo pyramids? Did you find them beautiful to behold?" He remembered painting sandy dunes in the desert, a light brown cathedral with a glass dome. "I have started to feel the gods’ presence as well. I have found that Thor is in the thunder, is the slayer of frost and fire–although I do admit that I may have felt his presence later than you. ”

Upon hearing the man’s question directed towards him, Athelstan pauses once again before answering. He thinks to the cross hidden onto his wrist and the crumbling Bible of St. John buried in a hidden compartment, things he could not bear to get rid of just yet.

“Ragnar is here now if you wish to meet him, although at this very moment, I think he may be busy. I have never been to Uppsala until now, but I do find myself interested by it. I recognize all these gods that I’ve learnt in Kattegat.”

#rp partner | wildmoored #ic

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ramblinganthropologist · 1 year ago

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Writober 2023 20 - Frosty

(I swear I posted this but w/e)

Summary: Snow used to be Aeronwen's favorite thing. Now it's just a reminder of what she lost.

---

Another day, another stack of books that needed to be organized.

At least they had put them on the cart this time instead of leaving them in the study rooms or somewhere she wouldn’t have thought to look. The people who used the library on the regular had finally gotten it through their skulls to leave the used books there so she or her cousin could shelve them.

The skeletons helped, but so did positive reinforcement. At least that’s what she was going to stand by if the Inquisitor asked.

“Looks like all of these are from the primal section.” Aeronwen started to push the cart towards the section, listening as the wheels squeaked. They would probably need oiling – she could get some from the quartermaster if she asked politely. And she always asked politely – it was part of her charm.

The primal section of the library was one of the more frequented areas. After all, various Circle apprentices had wound up in the Inquisition and not all of them were close to finishing their training. Primal wasn’t as subtle as the other fields – you knew when you set something on fire or electrocuted it – so it was a natural draw for young mages who wanted to see actual results for once.

It was what had drawn her there in the first place, back when she had first come to the Circle.

Aeronwen frowned and shook her head. “No… don’t think about that. You don’t have time to cry.”

Her eyes still stung as she rolled her cart down the aisle, looking for open spaces to place books in. Here, amid the books telling mages the best way to harness primal forces, she felt tiny and alone. Once, it had been her home, but now it was nothing but strangers.

And just her luck – it took her straight to the section on ice magic.

Her hand trembled as she took the first book out. It was one she knew well – a staple of young Circle mages beginning their studies in primal magic. She had it memorized from years of reading it and being Tranquil had only reinforced her memory.

Ways to avoid frost burns.

Though ice magic is not like regular ice, there is still a chance of injury if one does not specialize in the field. One should always be careful to regulate one’s energy – unguarded skin could frost over and cause injury.

Aeronwen had read that passage over and over as a child, worrying that she might harm herself with magic frost. It had never happened; as the book stated, those who specialized in ice magic didn’t need to worry about it.

She had specialized in it once… back before the Chantry had made her Tranquil.

The book slammed into the shelf with enough force to make the sound ring out through the quiet library. Aeronwen felt her face heat up as she glanced over her shoulder – there were a few people there studying, and they had been startled by the noise. They looked a little annoyed to say the least, but they soon went back to their studies.

She needed to reign herself in – it wasn’t the books’ faults…

With a sigh, Aeronwen continued shelving the books. Her motions were quieter, more direct as she focused on returning each volume to its spot. The sounds were softer now – the books didn’t deserve to be mistreated after all. They weren’t there to take the brunt of her frustration.

After a few minutes of quiet work, her cart was empty. She was glad to leave the primal section behind, not even pausing to look over her shoulder. Instead, she returned the cart to where it usually sat waiting to be filled again.

Aeronwen sighed as she returned to her desk, staring down at her notes of what people had taken out or returned. The last thing she wanted to do was go through the list, but it was her job. So, with a shake of her head, she started to read.

“Look, it’s snowing!”

Snow?

The voices shouting the weather belonged to some young mage apprentices crowded by the window, hands pressed to the glass. Judging from their robes, they had come from Antiva, so it wasn’t a surprise that snow surprised them.

Indeed, a light snow had begun to fall on Skyhold and the surrounding mountains. It was the fluffy kind, the one that was easier to shovel that the heavy, wet snow that often fell in the area. No doubt it wouldn’t lay too heavily, it-

Her page was getting wet.

Aeronwen blinked as she realized tears were beginning to trickle down her face. She wiped it away, but more tears followed. She backed away from her list, not wanting to mess up the details, and took a shaky breath.

It didn’t help – a sob was building in her chest.

Without a word, she stood and left the library. The hallway had a window, so she got to watch the snow fall as tears continued to run down her face. She hiccupped back that sob as she picked up her pace – not quite a run, but too fast to be a walk.

The cold air and snow bit her skin as she made her way to the mage tower. Her footsteps echoed on the stairs when she sprinted up, tears flowing freely. Her vision was a blur – she was going on muscle memory.

Eventually, she found her room and unlocked the door with shaky hands. Aeronwen all but fell on her bed, shoulders shaking as she cried into her pillow.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that the one magic she loved more than anything had been taken away from her by a religion she didn’t even believe in. When they had burned the mark into her forehead, they had melted the ice within her. The only thing left was dark death, whispering to her in the night when she tried to sleep.

And now, even though she had broken past it, she couldn’t even summon a snowflake. Oh, how hard she had tried during the nights when people slept. How many hours she had spent staring at her hand, trying to form an icicle.

The ice never came – the Chantry had taken it from her just like they had taken everything else away from her.

“Damn it all…”

Aeronwen sniffed back mucus as she tried to reign in her crying. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was really that upset or if this was just the leftovers of having broken Tranquility. As far as she knew, she was the only one, so it wasn’t like she could ask someone else if this was normal. That only made her feel lonelier, which brought on even more tears when she thought about it.

Talk about a feedback loop from hell.

Worst of all, the fluffy, light snow was still falling. She had a perfect view of it from the window behind her bed. It hurt to even think about it as she lay there, trying to control her tears so she could calm down.

“Hey… your door was open. That’s a good way to get stabbed in the back.”

A voice with a thick accent drew Aeronwen back to reality. She knew that voice well – it belonged to Jackel Lavellan. It was enough to make her sit up and attempt to wipe the tears from her eyes with her sleeve – a difficult premise, given how soggy it was.

Maybe she should start carrying a handkerchief.

“Oh… hello, Jackel.” She sniffed, rubbing her eyes again. “Sorry… I guess I forgot.”

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I uh… guess I needed a break from the library. Probably should’ve stayed in the main keep…”

Logic was coming back to her – and the embarrassment that it brought with it hit her dead on. No doubt plenty of people had seen her run from the library – probably had to avoid her as a matter of fact. She could only imagine what they were talking about – the ex-tranquil mage still wasn’t able to control her emotions.

No doubt they’d tell the Inquisitor… she was lucky Kaaras was so understanding of what she was dealing with, or she was pretty sure she’d be out of a job.

Luckily, nobody else wanted to staff the library because it was a boring job.

Jackel didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she dug into her cavernous pockets that always seemed to hold some trinket or another. After what seemed like eternity, she pulled out her hand and tossed something.

A small piece of wrapped chocolate landed in Aeronwen’s lap.

“Stole a couple extras off of Josie when she was busy with a letter.” Jackel popped one into her mouth. “She won’t miss them.”

In theory, she should’ve scolded her friend. After all, Josephine had adopted her into the Montilyet family not too long ago with her wife. She should’ve probably defended her new family…

But her stomach growled.

“I still have no idea how you manage to pull it off every time.” Aeronwen shook her head as she unwrapped the chocolate with shaky fingers and popped it into her mouth. The sweet flavor began to dissolve slowly, and she sat back, letting it do so.

Back when she had still been an ice mage, it never melted. Something about being too cold for it to do so. It definitely tasted better now…

“A bit of skill at slight of hand is all you need, but it also helps I know where she keeps it.” Jackel smirked a bit at that. “I took these when I was talking to her. Doubt she even realized it until she went for one later.”

Aeronwen could practically picture it…

“Anyway, I wanted to show you something I found.” Jackel went back into her pocket and dug around again before finally pulling something out. “I was out in the field and came across this. Thought it was cool.”

She held it up to the light – it was… well it looked like a rock from where Aeronwen was sitting, not that she had much experience with rocks. Again, Circle life didn’t exactly allow for much time out in nature… among other things.

But it was a neat looking rock, shiny and slick from the forces of nature that had worn it down. More importantly, it looked like a knife. Hell, she would have thought it was a knife except for the fact there was no hardware.

“Huh, that’s neat. I wonder how it got shaped that way.”

Jackel shrugged her shoulder as she flipped it from hand to hand. “No idea, it probably broke off something ages ago. But it was shiny, so I had to pick it up.”

Despite her name, Jackel was a bit of a magpie. She always brought something interesting back from the field, be it a cool rock or a new plant Aeronwen hadn’t seen before. It was always a treat to say the least.

“I’ll have to look up what could cause that. It’s shiny, so maybe wind or water…”

She trailed off, eyes going towards the window. During their talk, the snow had stopped falling and the sun was beginning to peek through the crowds. Already, the light snow was beginning to melt – the ground looked wet.

Her tears had stopped too.

“I guess it’s time for you to get back to the library.” Jackel jumped onto her shoulders as she stood. “I heard the scouts were going to be coming back with more books they found in some old library. Scout Harding was part of the group, so she’ll definitely be at the library waiting for you.”

Aeronwen felt her face heat up as she locked her door and started down the stairs. “You’re reading too much into that.”

“I don’t think so. I’m good at these kinds of things.”

Her words carried as Aeronwen started the walk back to the library. With the snow melting and the sun out, things weren’t so tight in her chest. It wasn’t going to go away fully – it probably never would – but it hurt less.

She could live with this.

But she could think about that later, when she was exhausted and tumbling into bed at the end of the day. Aeronwen shifted back into librarian mode as she found the door that would take her to one of her favorite places in Skyhold.

There was work to be done. The library needed its librarian now.

#writober 2023 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Aeronwen Treveylan #Jackel Lavellan

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moodiestmags · 2 years ago

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First Seed and Frost Fall for Valerie and Caedra

First Seed - Does your OC have any enemies or rivals? How did these rivalries start?

Caedra

Her general nemesis is the Thalmor. There is no one general or member she despises the most, it’s just the collective. They kind of slaughtered her parents, and forced her to run away from her home at a young age so she is not fond of them at all.

However, the person she butts heads with the most that she doesn’t necessarily want to kill for their annoyances is Neloth of house Telvanni. In her attempts at gaining some level of coin, she’s taken the odd jobs for that grumpy old wizard and disliked him the entire time. He’s judgemental and rude and mistook her for his steward and didn’t like the cup of tea she made him out of exasperation (and the hope of more gold) so she threw it at him. He doesn’t like her much either, so…

Valerie

Two people: Delphine and Maven Black-Briar.

Delphine is an overly-paranoid arrogant twat in her books. Sets the bar for most annoying setback when she stole the horn of Jürgen Windcaller and made Valerie walk all the way to Riverwood and then to Kynesgrove before she had to deliver the stupid thing back to the greybeards. She’s also not a fan of how she treats Paarthurnax.

Maven Black-Briar is just plain rude. If she wasn’t so closely tied to the Thieves Guild, Valerie would love to punch her right in her stupidly smug face for the way she treats people. All it took was a snide look, and her saying “I presume you’re bothering me for a good reason?” When Val asked for directions in Riften’s market, for her to be highest on the “kill if you lose all morals and go down in history as another insane Dragonborn” list.

Frost Fall - Where is your OC's primary residence? What city is their favourite?

Caedra

She was gifted Severin Manor for her help in dealing with the Falx Carius issue among other things like re-opening the Raven Rock mine. It’s cozy, and feels like home to her, but Raven Rock is not her favourite city.

That title belongs to Riften. Or, more the Rift, really. It’s not freezing like most of the rest of Skyrim, and the trees are gorgeous in autumn. Enough jobs for a mercenary, though she would appreciate it if her pockets didn’t end up lighter whenever she visited.

Valerie

After becoming Thane of Whiterun, she bought a small homestead just outside the city walls, and currently lives there and maintains the property when she can. It’s got stables, an apiary and a small garden, and it’s away from the hustle and bustle of Skyrim’s largest trade hub. But still close enough she can pop into the city and find what she needs.

Coincidentally, Whiterun is also her favourite city. She loves the open feeling of it, how the flow of air keeps the unsavoury smells cities have away, and also how warm the sun can be on the plains.

#thank you for the asks!#mags asks #oc: valerie #oc: caedra #skyrim #the elder scrolls skyrim

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cryptid-killjoy · 1 year ago

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He'd notice every one of her touches. He was so thorough he'd even pause just to value them too. The precious tenderness of his affection had a way of always taking center stage even when the urgency of physical desire started to blur his lucid states.

When he was gone whether lost in lust, pure physicality taken over, or some other cross of consciousness that caused his eyes to not quite connect when in a place of pleasure, he was never gone enough to forget her name, never gone enough to think he wasn't home.

Frosted Flakes is exactly how his thought process began. Bastien put that turn of phrase together only the pictures went from Frosted Flakes, to frosting on a cake, to images of whipping cream, to icing to diamonds, to the phrase Frost Yourself from some old Mcconaughey movie. Then out popped frosted pussy while thinking of the queen in some fantasy movie stepping in a white tub of milk bath naked and damn it was hot, so fuck yeah, somehow Bastien's mind put all that together in one point two seconds as he indulged.

Once Bastien had her bouncing on his cock though, seated on his lap as he knelt on the bed, and she helped keep the pace, he grew louder himself. He wasn't always a big talker or even the most directive partner usually wanting to make sure everything was always Maddy's pace for so many refuses to make her do one thing she doesn't want to do reasons. Tonight however he was taking what he wanted. That side of him came out sometimes, though he wasn't harsh. He wasn't asking first, but she didn't seem to be complaining either. So, he kept going.

Even when she called out his name he kept going. He liked feeling those titties over his arm and started to watch over her shoulder, squeezing from underneath. Then the sound of her voice would stimulate the heat in his tummy so bad he'd have to look down her spine only to see that ass spread over him. He nearly lost his breath at the sight of the jiggle as he swatted one globe and then traded his grip on her ribs for a hold on her hips. He'd push her gently back down on all fours and Oh-oh-Oh what a beautiful back side sight. Now that was worth living for. His eyes would go skiing down the slope of her spine and up the butterfly mountaintops of her shoulders all covered in the spillways of her dark hair. His fingers dug into that pelvis and pulled her into him more as he thrust.

That's where he found his sweet spot, right there. He went on until he finally came leaning over the back of her until his face met her shoulder and bore down. He'd hold there groaning it out, breathing it out until fruition. The moment he could catch his breath to find her face and turn his body alongside hers in such a way he could face her side by side. The particular arm that was laid over her was the one with her name on it and his eyes caught sight of it as he moved some of her hair and was touching over her shape of her neck. He was very thankful for his penciled in time.

"I love you, Maddy Bellerose. I'm ready for the Philippines now."

He heard his own voice say those words, but in the background he heard other voices in the voyeur box. The gargoyles yes, but also Jetsam and Savvy's deep Santa-like voice watching like they'd just seen a movie offering popcorn to the trio. "Asian interference. Ho. Ho. Ho. We waits for New Zealand. Soon Jetsam. Soon."

All hearing the words New Zealand in the background did to Bastien was make his mind wander off to the dress he had Willem secretly readying for Maddy. It made him smile as he imagined it on her, the pale color against her skin. He'd trace his fingers just under her collarbone imagining the neckline.

"Thanks again for penciling me in. Can you jot that down as a standing appointment? I think I need to come in more often."

He wasn't sure he'd made a lot of appointments for too many places in his life, certainly not doctors, and he wasn't really a list making guy that planned much ahead, and maybe it wouldn't really work that way, but he definitely saw the benefit in this one.

Bah, research. Even Dr. Frankenstein would tell Maddy as much as reading up and being prepared is good, often times all it does is give new mothers a thousand useless things to worry about in case they're the select few of the small percentile. Just leave it to their doctor if something felt wrong. Yes.

Off went the shirt.

Then there was Bastien who didn't think about whether they were medically healthy or not. All he knew was when the fabric came down his wife's titties had the power to get him sprung thank you very much. Pants tight. Heat in his throat. The coil in the pit of his gut that would connect the two growing ever more present to him as he pulled her near. It was like his insides that felt invisible before suddenly became tangible parts of him he was fully aware of right up his center and every part of that parallel line needed to align with Maddy. Closer. Closer. Not close enough yet and he had right up against him.

Large enough hands to carry his giant troll hammer, strength in his grip to enough whirl it on his shoulder to switch smashing ends, but gentle enough composure to caress her breasts like they were delicate artwork precious in his palms. Even the look on his face elated to touch his fingertips over their texture feeling the difference the nub verses the smoothness of the under-skin. Even the taste was Bastien enjoying his textures again, his wife's textures not some factory made linen.

He was penciled in. So, he was utilizing his time. His honey skinned girl might not have tasted literally as sweet as such as this. But, oh when his tongue ribbed the bumpy feeling of nipple after cruising between hills of smooth breasts and tasted her milk there was a pause in him. He could smell baby. One didn't need to be a wolf to catch it if they were this close. Bastien was a slow guy. He had issues, delusions, beliefs, and out there guy is the term. Not everything he believed was based in reality. He hadn't been like Thomas all up on Valerie. He wasn't going to "take" what was for Frankie. Bastien had already gone through worst case scenarios in his head where if he got stuck in a cabin during a zombie apocalypse or a snow storm, then and only then would he feed from his wife if he needed to to survive, things like that. But, Bastien had a trauma brain that constantly thought of wild scenarios to be ready for ever watching his back, and well, now his family's back making up survival plans.

So, it was in this moment as they were finally nearly a year out and baby foods were being introduced he was taking a slow down during his penciled in time. Maybe a part of him thought that through. Frankie would be fine, but mostly he was just lost there in this gorgeous set of brown tittie so soft and sweet on his tongue, so warm when the liquid unintentionally pooled in his mouth, and his responsive reaction was a hand shot straight down to his belt line to yank it open. The sound of the buckle would fill the air. Zipper. Pants shoved and kicked while still holding his cock in his hand. He was squeezing his cock as he latched on, truly lost in her for just moment. Bastien was gone. Somewhere else. Everything was instinctive. His thoughts were gone.

He looked up from her chest as he lapped up his new found joy. As a white droplet lay against her he couldn't help but think it was just beautiful against her skin as his cum.

Then he pushed her back while kissing that exquisite face that said yes in the pumpkin patch, the face too good for his, always someone else's, never listens but it always there face that could never see past the end of her nose, his wife's, Mrs Bellerose's face with those endearing yes lips. But, suddenly it wasn't those lips he couldn't get out of his head.

This was a man on self serve tonight as instinctual more raw and filthy possessing moves came out in him. Once he yanked and peeled her pants and useless panties off he crushed down for a face melting kiss as he gripped her breasts and then kissed his way down her chest and belly. He could feel milk pour over his knuckles with that move. He took the warm liquid over the back of his hand and wiped it between her legs like he was spreading icing on a cake. Then with a near smirk he went face first into the best first lick of ooey gooey pussy ever with a hint of something new.

"Mmm frosted pussy." He even said it out loud like he was gone, a haunted tone, speaking more as someone satiated by a delicious bite rather than speaking to someone. He would take more than his fair share too, lingering in places Maddy probably didn't need, but he was taking his time for his own sake. That boy liked to use his tongue.

But, that also wasn't stopping Mr. Bellerose from going for his tried and true never even guilty about favorite viewing pleasure. Dat ass. When he finally came up for air he was pushing her over on all fours to get the good view. Two big hammer holding palms on those palpable globes so good for squeezing. He'd give that twat a nice little pat all good from under that ass of those spread knees. Damn his wife had a hot ass. He couldn't stop thinking it every time she was bent over. Then he anchored himself to her, grabbed his cock, and hauled in that pretty pink space so soft. It was a doggie style move, but just after he shoved in he wrapped his arms around her to pull her up so she'd no longer be on all fours. She'd be sitting backwards in his lap, her back against his chest, his cock firmly inside her.

Then he'd keep his arms wrapped around her ribcage, his head over her shoulder, cock thrusting in a haze, mind in a state, but in that state would think he needed penciled every day. Even the gargoyles were suddenly looking like they were in the spy room getting turned like Columbia and Magenta being voyeurs.

"Fuck I needed this."

As if it'd been anywhere, but maybe parenthood and distractions had a way of slowing down Bastien's roll.

#bastienxmaddy

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hoe4hotchner · 3 years ago

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My pretty little puppy - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Pet play (none hybrid), soft/dark!Hotch, I mean... doggy style sex, fingering, floor licking, food mentioning, slight breeding kink.

A/N: This is a late birthday (request) present for my bestie @mayasreadingnook !!! Happy Birthday boo!!!

It had been a few days since you last had been present in your human mind. All rational and responsible thoughts were exchanged for playful happy jumps and a greater need to obey and serve your owner.

Aaron had taken time off from work when you’d announced the three weeks you’d been granted off by your boss as a reward for your great work at the company. He had seen it as his cut to have you how he liked you: following him on your hands and knees as you begged for attention and playtime. He could resist your eyes, overloaded with cuteness as they only got wider and wider with every begging whine that left your vocal cords.

You’d forgotten everything about your birthday, how it happened to fall during your time off, and especially now that you were nothing more than Aaron’s carefree puppy. It was a wonder that you’d managed to stay under his spell for so long, usually only lasting a day or two, but this time it was different. You were nearing the end of the week and still hadn’t as much as thought about taxes, groceries, or other worldly worries that could possibly sneak their way into your brain. It was wonderful.

You’d been lounging around while Aaron was gone, starting in the basket he’d brought for you and in the end, laying upside down on the couch. Your tail had fallen in between your legs, tip dangling over the edge of the couch after the last time you’d rolled around to find a better spot.

You knew you weren’t allowed on the couch, but it was just so much softer and comfier than your bed. Aaron hated when you didn’t follow his orders, and you really tried to obey his every word, but the couch was like catnip, calling your name every time he left you in the house alone while you were in puppy space.

It didn’t register that the door clicked opened before you heard the sound of a bag being dropped on top of the dining table. You didn’t move, hoping that your statue-like posture would make you invisible to his gaze. But it was already too late.

It was like he snuck up on you. His hands clapping and gripping around the back of the couch, sending jolts of fright down your spine at the shock. Your eyes shifted up at him, carefully starting to wiggle your rump and act cute to get out of your punishment. Your paws were lifted to your chest, casually pushing and framing your breast in his direction. It wasn’t your intention to do so, but it always happened when you begged.

“You’re lucky it’s your birthday.” He smiled, leaning over the back to caress your cheek and give your stomach a few hearty pats. “Now down we go, Puppy.” Aaron gave you a gentle push, encouraging you to jump off the plush seat.

“Let’s give you your cake first.” Aaron grinned, lighting the single candle on the bone-shaped cupcake that he had picked up at the local bakery. They usually made them for canine consumption, but being that the ingredients were safe for humans, he didn’t think twice before buying it for you.

He placed it down between the two of you. You couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted you to do with it, and he hadn’t given the release command yet, so you definitely weren’t going to test your luck and just take it. You tilted your head up at him with a confused whine.

“Oh, that’s right! Can’t blow out candles now can you?” He chuckled, giving you a few pats to the crown of your head before he took the cupcake, blew out the candle, and placed it back for you to consume.

“Okay!” On that note, you went face first into the confection. Your nose dug into the frosting as you lapped, nipped, and chewed on the delicious treat. You were so consumed by the sweetness that you didn’t notice Aaron moving behind you.

He flipped your tail over the arch of your back, slowly running his fingers over it until he reached your collar. Without any resistance from you, he locked his hand around the band, holding you in place, while his other hand moved between your legs.

Aaron started moving his fingers between your folds, slowly starting to work you up as he brushed them over your clit. With a face stuffed full with cake, your moans were muffled, pleasing Aaron as he knew just who your sounds belonged to.

With one finger, he gently started pushing it against your waiting hole. Slowly working it further and further in before pulling back out and repeating the action. When you got looser around him, he added another. In, out, repeat. His fingers started curling against your spot, making you pant and bark, focus completely gone from the last few crumbs left on the floor.

“Eat your treat Puppy, don’t mind me.” He cooed, moving your head by your collar and slowly having you lick the rest of the cake up.

“Good, Puppy!” Aaron’s praising words went straight to your brain, making you roll your eyes back into your skull and move in tandem with his thrusting fingers.

Bliss out, you didn’t feel his fingers leaving your core. You didn’t hear the sound of his zipper. You didn’t really register anything until you felt the blunt head of his hard cock pressing against your cunt.

Aaron seethed himself inside of you, moving at a relenting pace as his free hand grabbed a chunk of your hair to further steady himself.

“You love your birthday treat, don’t you?” His words were punctuated through his gritted teeth, snapping his hips against yours and letting the air around you be filled with the sound of skin against skin.

You howled in response, all thoughts completely gone and exchanged for the need to breed. You couldn’t tell if you were moving as well, or if it were the yanks on your hair and collar that made you move back and have him hit your cervix with every thrust.

With heaving, quick pants, the room started spinning around you. You felt a tightness in your belly, getting tighter and tighter with each thrust, in and out. Aaron could feel it too. Your walls biting down on his cock, trying to force it to stay inside of you.

With a toe-curling bark, you released around him, almost falling and sprawling down on the floor, only being held up by his hands. Aaron finished himself off inside of you. Watching as your mixed cum slowly got pushed out of you as he pull himself out.

He enjoyed the view for a moment, letting go and watching as you regained your breath and senses on the floor.

“You’ve gotten messy, Puppy.” Aaron chuckled as he flipped you over on your back and saw the dollops of frosting on the tip of your nose and corners of your mouth. You yipped up at him with a tired grin.

Aaron only shook his head at you, scooping you into his arms to go get cleaned up. And maybe, just maybe, back to being you again.

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sserpente · 4 years ago

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A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

A/N: ☕

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clarissalance · 3 years ago

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Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you?

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.)

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!!

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat.

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows.

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation.

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent. With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.”

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks?

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away.

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said: ‘Farewell, my comrades’.

For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword.

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

“ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone?

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground!

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.”

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department.

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you.

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them.

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years.

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out.

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed.

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?"

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button.

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful.

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?”

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him.

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank.

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes.

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture.

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike.

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you.

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground.

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes.

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks.

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating.

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry.

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch.

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up.

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby.

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ” His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent?

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo.

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort. Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what?

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you.

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you?

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action.

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about.

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day? You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now!

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm.

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more.

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist.

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering.

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure.

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route.

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack.

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can.

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder?

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back.

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively.

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go?

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.”

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic.

#kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #no beta we kayak like tim #genshin impact #clarissalance #who has the upper hand ?#argument #fluff #tension #smart reader #strategist #genshin varka #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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the-friendliest-freak · 3 years ago

Text

Autistic/ADHD Wolverine Headcanons

These can be taken for most Wolverines, except for a few which are based on specific versions

HATES loud noises. Hates em. Has asked Beast to fit his mask with mufflers multiple times so he doesn’t have to cover his ears every time a car explodes or siren goes off

Smooth foods are the devil. He really despises anything that isn’t chewy, which is why he usually eats meat.

Special interests include histoy, mostly stuff to do with ancient cultures. Will talk your ear off about feudal Japan, don’t you worry

Cyclops pisses him off because he never bothers to say what he means, and Wolverine really struggles trying to articulate this. E.g. Cyclops tells Wolverine to “deal” with a threat, intending for Wolverine to just knock them out, Wolverine misunderstands this because Cyke didn’t tell him what to do at all, ends up doing the wrong thing, gets yelled at, rinse your hands and repeat

Loves saying “snikt” as a stim. However, due to societal pressures, he smokes instead to get a similar effect.

Only uses one brand of cigar consistently. If someone offers one, he’ll take it because it’s better than nothing, but he won’t buy any other kind other than the one he has. Is it old? Yes. Is it not even that good? Yes. But it’s routine.

Wolverine and the X-Men centred: Emma Frost slowly realised Wolverine was on the spectrum, and started treating him the same way she would one of her neurodivergent students, but still with the respect she would give an adult (and the no-shit-taken attitude she has with him). Wolverine didn’t know why Emma was suddenly so interested in trying to ‘get’ him, and after confronting her proceeded to flip his entire fuck when she told him why. He didn’t hit her, it was barely even directed at her. He just angrily stammered for five minutes and rambled to the ceiling while pacing back and forth before going away for two days. Emma and Logan then proceeded to have little sessions where she would teach him the coping mechanisms she had taught her own students

He also has a bad habit of eating his own cigars whenever he’s stressed. He’ll be chewing on it, thinking about something, and then suddenly whoopsie-doodle it’s gone and now his throat tingles. Sometimes he does it intentionally, much to the disgust of the other X-Men.

Scratches himself a lot. It’s both a stim and a nervous tic from the adamantium transfer, where he, for days after, would constantly itch and claw at his skin to try and alleviate the painful sensations

Wolverine also tends to gnaw at himself. Due to his healing factor, evidence of this is difficult to find, but he’ll randomly bite at his own skin until it bleeds, sometimes seeming unaware of the fact he’s doing it

Ok last stimming one: his dog tags. They’re his comfort item and a stim. He’ll fiddle with them when he’s anxious, and sometimes he’ll even chew on them. The latter is incredibly easy to notice despite him having his hand over his mouth to not arouse suspicion, due to the sound of metal grinding against metal

This one is more centred on the movies, specifically Origins: only Sabretooth knows. He knew Logan was diagnosed with something when they were young, and later found out it was likely some form of neurodivergence that no one in the 1800s really knew about. When they were younger, Logan got really attached to Creed since Creed would explain things to him in a blunt manner, which was a far cry from and much easier to understand than the flowery language of everyone around him

Goes non verbal a heck ton, usually only talking in grunts and growls. He isn’t intentionally trying to be rude, but he’s stopped caring wether or not people think he is.

Has a habit of suddenly jerking back his neck or cracking his knuckles pretty aggressively mid-conversation surely for the Sensory GoodnessTM

Loves rain. And I mean loves rain. He always acts really chill whenever it’s raining outside, since the noise is calming to him. Thunder and lightning spook him, though he won’t admit it

He was scared absolutely shitless when he first saw fireworks. Half was because of war flashbacks, the other was IT’S TOO DAMN LOUD

Got the word “bub” off of Alpha Flight. When any member would say it, he’d repeat it over and over again under his breath. The word just feels good.

Would rather just…not talk. At all. It’s one of the few benefits he sees to being friends with telepaths - he doesn’t NEED to talk to them.

On rare occasions, when he does talk, it sounds completely incomprehensible. It usually ends with him getting incredibly frustrated since no one can understand what he’s saying

Hates malls. The noises, the smells, the stupid stupid LIGHTS- it’s all awful. He has had a meltdown inside of one; it ended with him curled up in a ball inside a clothes rack, practically pulling at his hair with his eyes screwed shut. The X-Men that came with him - Storm, Rogue, and Jubilee - were looking for him for hours. It took them a good few minutes to coax him out, since it was like he couldn’t hear them. Xavier was furious at Wolverine’s “immature behaviour in a public place” and decided sensory overload training would have to be added to the Danger Room’s capabilities. (Because Charles is an asshole)

I’ll add more later I dunno

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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write one where the Rogers is assigning a new recruit to each avenger for training? Loki gets the new girl and he’s irritated thinking she’s just some normal human that hasn’t a clue how to fight properly because of her petite size. When it comes time for them to spar, she gives him hell. She fights with swords and is very skilled in the art. He says something to piss her off and she ends up blasting him away with powers she never told anyone about. Loki realizes what she is since he knows the magic she used. She’s part light elf but being half human she was abandoned and left to die just like Loki was. They end up bonding and work together on the team.

A/N: I hope you like it! I didn't focus a whole ton of them working together, but I feel like you get the point. It's a bit longer than my other one shots.

The Moon And Her Darkness

Summary: Y/N, the newest avenger, starts her first day of training. An unimpressed Loki’s doubts are proved to be wrong when she reveals herself to be stronger than he knew.

Word count: 2744

Warnings: angst, dick Loki

Forever Tags: @mm2305

Your blood pumps fast through your body as you stare at the raven haired god. Ever since you joined the team, he’s been giving you dirty looks and eye rolls. You tried to not pay attention to it since you know of his past (and have been warned by Tony), but as the newest Avenger trying to prove herself, you find yourself longing for his approval.

It has been a week since Nicky Fury showed up at your home, extracting you from it, and throwing you into the lion's den you called the Avengers. You never signed up for it, but given that you were on the government’s radar for a long time, you’re not surprised. A couple mishaps here and there made them take you on their own terms. They’ve decided that having super powers is not something to be normalized and that you couldn’t live like a normal civilian.

Although you want to be home, the Avengers have already shown to be a great family. Nat and Wanda have already taken you shopping while Steve gave you a tour of the tower. As far as the others, they have been out of sight. Bucky avoids everyone, Sam with him because they’re glued to the hip, and Tony is somewhere else working on new technology with Bruce. Clint? Thor? Who even knows. You’ve been thankful for the attention they have given you.

Except for Loki.

You remember the attack in New York and you won’t lie when saying that approaching the god is intimidating. He stands with great pride and power, it’s hard not to feel small, but when he stares at you the way he does, it’s harder. He doesn’t stop looking at you as if you were a rat he found in a sandwich. Disposable. Replaceable. Disgusting. You don’t expect much from the God being that he’s only staying here out of punishment for the attacks, but you had hoped for a little something more. Even a prank or two.

When Steve told you that you were going to start training, you expected hand to hand combat like the rest, not whatever involves Loki being in the gym at the same time as the two of you. He hasn’t said a word, but just stared at you as Steve goes over some basic disabling techniques and defense. Most of it is already burned in your brain from your childhood, being a warrior and all, but you still manage to learn some new things.

But learning as to why Loki is there, that still remains unclear. Everytime you throw a punch or try to block one of Steve’s, Loki scoffs at you and rolls his eyes. He looks completely relaxed on a bench in the room, yet he could not be looking at you with a more tense gaze. He looks worried, as if you’re going to get beaten to a pulp.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” You yell at him.

Panting, you block Steve’s last hit and turn to the younger Odinson.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, don’t sorry me. Cut the crap, Loki. What’s up?”

“I believe the sky is.”

You grab a knife off the wall and aim it in his direction, startling him slightly but not even shocking Steve.

“You stare at me with daggers in your eyes and judge my every move. You have yet to even talk to me since I joined the team. What do you have against me, you ass?”

“Y/N-”

“Shut it, Steve!” You yell, quickly aiming the dagger at him before returning to Loki, “You. Talk.”

“It’s just pathetic, that’s all.”

“Pathetic? You’re calling me pathetic?”

You start to charge at Loki, but Steve quickly wraps his arm around your waist, holding you back from gutting the god.

“Y/N, I wanted you to spar with him after me,” he cuts in.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because he's a skilled fighter who matches your level.”

“Oh, so I spar with the tricker who decides I’m too pathetic to fight. He’s going to teleport or some shit and stab me like he does with Thor.” Loki’s eyebrows raise at the mention of Thor getting stabbed. “Yes, I’ve heard the stories. I’m not that naive, Steve.”

“I won’t leave you alone with him. I’ll be here to watch and guide.”

“What do you know about fighting with me? I have magic beyond belief” Loki asks the both of you.

“I know more than you think,” I spit, turning back to Steve, “Can we do something else?”

“Well, you coud-”

“I am not sparing with Loki.”

“Okay, then how about weapons? Whatever one you want to start with?”

Loki scoffs again at the mention of you fighting any other way than hand to hand combat. He’s lucky you’re on the same team as him or else you would have decapitated him by now just because of annoyance. How can a man so attractive be so obnoxious?

You walk over to the wall of weapons were Steve and quietly discuss which ones you’ll practice with. He recommends knives so you can spar with Natasha when he’s gone, but the swords are more up your alley. They remind you of your childhood, the weapon of your people. Some days, you miss them, but you know they are fighting their own battle that is too dangerous for you.

Picking up the swords, Steve warns you he is not good which makes Loki laugh again. He has the right to this time because how do you practice with a man who doesn’t know what he’s doing. You can’t last ten minutes with Cap before you’re tired of his flailing. He’s really not good.

“Loki, you wouldn’t happen to know how to use swords would you?”

“I have some experience. Asgard knights and Valkyrie used them, we were forced to learn.”

He stands and takes Steve’s sword from him. Turning to you, he smirks, taking you in. Your frame looks so small compared to his, nothing but a mortal. He’s never admit it, but he finds you slightly adorable, in a helpless baby sort of way. You take proper stance and stare at Loki dead in the eye, determined to prove him wrong.

The two of you run at each other, swinging at any unblocked area you can, yet never hitting. He blocks your swing, pushing you back but not down. Looking up at him, you scream and run, thrusting your sword towards his neck and legs. He blocks you again, but not without stumbling. Before he’s able to get up, you land a blow right to his chest, knocking the air out of him. He hooks his foot around your leg and flips the two of you over so he hovers above you, sword to throat.

“I’ll admit it, you are good, but not great,” he laughs.

He stands up and walks off, setting the swords back on their holder on the wall. You gradually stand up, fury in your bones for the way he speaks to you.

“You… are irritable!” You yell.

Right before Loki gets to the door, he turns to face you. Steve rushes to your side.

“Y/N, stop. He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, he’s not worth it, alright,” you mutter to Steve, “He’s not worth the pride. The praise. Whatever the ‘glorious purpose’ he thinks he has. He’s just an insecure little boy who needs to prove himself over others, make them feel small so he feels superior. Just a bully.”

“I’d watch your tongue,” Loki warns.

“Or else what? You’ll challenge me to a words competition? See who has the best insults or can sound like the biggest douche because I think we all know who would win! Another check mark for your book of things you’re better at than ‘midgardians’ or ‘mortals’ or whatever degrading nickname you think of next.”

Loki’s chest heaves in anger. You’ve never seen someone so angry or heard anyone yelling at you with concern like Steve. Nothing he says registers in your head as Loki’s daring looks fill your mind. You’d almost be scared if you didn’t know he’s full of empty threats. Just a scared little god boy.

“You imbecile, think you can scare me?”

“Actually, I think anything can.”

“I can take words from someone who does not know me, but to be called a coward is not something I take lightly.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Huh?”

“Nothing, I don’t waste my time on people like you.”

“Oh, people like me? Because the great Frost Giant Asgardian is sooo superior.”

“Don’t you ever say that.”

Loki rushes to your side, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you up against the wall.

“Loki, stop it!” Steve yells.

“This is not about you, Rodgers. I suggest you leave before getting in the crossfire.”

“I can’t do that. The safety of this team-”

“Is your priority. I know you are honorable, but I highly suggest you leave.”

Steve hesitates at the sound of you gasping for air. You cling onto Loki’s hand, tightly wound around your throat. His veins pop out of his hand like a dehydrated man. Steve looks back at you, eyes now closed to focus on your breathing.

“Put her down first,” Steve orders.

“Fine, always have to be the hero.”

Loki sets you down and your body goes numb. Everything hurts, your throat swelling. You gasp for all the air you can, feeling it go down your throat and enter your lungs. It’s fresh, comforting, healing. Leaning your head back against the wall, you barely open your eyes to see Steve by your side.

“Are you okay?”

Not energized enough to speak yet, you nod your head and place your hand on his shoulder. Steve looks over at you with worry before turning back to Loki.

“Leave, now.”

“Gladly.”

Loki turns to walk away, but doesn’t. He stands there to listen to you and Steve. At this point, neither of you care. You’re too focused on not dying.

“Can you breathe?” Steve asks.

You nod your head.

“I can get you help. We have a hospital room.”

“No,” you choke, “I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

Steve nods, but doesn’t listen. He gets up and leaves the room, rushing down the hallways to get a nurse, leaving you alone with Loki.

“Why haven’t you left?”

“No reason.”

“Please, just go. I’m tired of fighting. You’ve done enough.”

Loki turns to look at you. You look weak, but actually weak this time. The purple tint to your skin is fading as your lungs self regenerate as you keep breathing. Gripping onto the wall behind you, you stand up. Your knees are weak, making you wobble as you do. You’re not lying. You’re tired of Loki. You’ve barely spoken to the man and he’s made two attempts on your life in ten minutes. Sure, you teased him, but doesn’t he deserve it for being an ass.

“Weak.” He mutters.

That was the last straw. You look up at him. He stares at you as if the devil himself has entered you and your eyes glow bright red, but you know what is wrong. Holding out your hand towards Loki. A glow erupts from behind you, bright yet dark. It’s dark blue like the night sky and Loki watches it in awe. In seconds, Loki’s body is flung through the training room doors, blasting him into the wall of the hallways. He feels his rib breaking, his head hitting the wall. He yells out in pain as you slowly approach him, the anger seeping through.

“Never call me weak.”

Loki flips his head up to look at you, shock running through his body. At the sound of his body collapsing, the other Avengers come running forward. They look upon the sight of you towering over the trickster god with a look they’ve never seen before. Ethereal. Godly. You look as if you’re a queen staring at her peasant handmaid. Anger. Controlling. Power.

“What the-” Bucky mutters.

“You,” Loki gasps.

He struggles to stand as the team tries to help but he refuses. You two locked eyes but nothing was said. “You’re an elf.”

Everyone looks back at you with confused faces, but you don’t say anything. Your body goes hot at the mention of the word ‘elf’. The fire inside you fades out as anxiety places it, waiting for Loki to continue.

“I knew if someone was here to figure it out it’d be you,” you whisper.

“Light elf yes?”

“Yes, moon elf to be exact.”

“How are you here? Aren’t the-”

“Yes, they’re away. I was left to die. Our town got ransacked, everyone fled. No one stopped for me.”

“Then how are you here?”

“The Air elves. They got word of what happened and came. Found me. Took me back, but-”

“You weren’t suited. They found out.”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence between you and the god. His eyes shine with sadness, tears coming to the corners. He looks at you with great pity as the wall inside you breaks.

“Can someone explain what’s happening?” Steve asks.

“Can you tell?” You ask Loki.

He nods, “Yes. Y/N is a moon elf, a tribe of light elves. They’re as high up as Asgard in the nine realms, powerful warriors. They’ve been at the center of every creature out there. People have been after them for their weapons, gems, and wealth. A landmark for every thief and warrior in the universe.”

“My town was destroyed when I was a little girl. Nobody wanted me because I was a child. I was a burden to them.”

“She was left for dead to be found by the Air Elves. Another tribe. Not as powerful. But they didn’t want her and there’s only one reason why they wouldn’t want a moon elf. She’s a half-breed.”

“Moon elves are the only ones who tolerate them. Half human, half elf. Considering many of them come from moon elves, they’re not despised, but Air Elves.”

“They dropped you off on Midgard to be picked up by someone else. I assume you hid your powers?” “I had to. I acted out once when I was little and my parents freaked out. They sent me away. I lived in a orphanage before some group took me, trained me, helped me hone in my powers. They saved me.”

“Until you got to old and left.”

“Didn’t know where to go. I became a waitress at some back alley bar, lived above it in an apartment with my manager. Lived paycheck to paycheck.”

“Then?”

“Nicky Fury came to me. I was on SHIELD’s radar and they wanted me on the Avengers.”

The room goes silent. Throughout your talking you missed the way Loki got considerably closer to you. You practically stand right under his nose. Loki raises his hands and places them on your shoulders, getting your attention. You two look each other in the eye for a long moment.

“I am… so sorry.”

You feel the tears forming in your eyes as Loki pulls you into his chest, holding you by your waist. The team watches in awe as the closed off god embraces you. Slowly, everyone leaves you two in the hallway. An hour goes by as you cry in Loki’s eyes.

Eventually, Loki picks you up bridal style and brings you to your bedroom. He helps you get dressed for the night and settled in bed before you grab his hand, making him turn back to face you. His eyes are no longer riddled with anger or hatred, but kindness and pity. He looks at you like you’re a little lamb to be protected.

“Yes, darling?”

“Stay with me?”

He nods before undressing and getting in bed with you. He pulls you close, your head leaning on his chest, and places an arm around your waist.

Every night goes on like this. No matter what happened in the day, even if you two got into an argument, Loki always found his way back by your side in your bed. You would have never expect it from how he treated you at first, but after the last few months since you met him, you find yourself growing closer to the god.

Loki slips into your bed for what feels like the 1482nd time. Resting your head on his chest, Loki pulls you close to his body.

“Goodnight, darling.”

#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x reader one shot #loki one shot #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #lovingallforloki #themoonandherdarkness

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years ago

Note

I have a Shikamaru request! It’s a bit long winded so dust with me 😊. Shikamaru is assigned to protect reader who is the last of her clan that a lot is not known about. (So he also has the secret mission of finding our more about the clan and their abilities). They end up falling for each-other (of course). And after reader finds out she is pregnant she learns that Shikamaru was meant to learn about her. I’m seeing some angsty fluffy goodness! And hopefully a happy ending. 🥰

Healing You (Shikamaru x Reader)

A/N: Thank you for your request! These long detailed ones are perfect and give me just enough information to give you the perfect story. I skipped the pregnancy part because im not totally comfortable with that...hopefully you still enjoy.

word count: 5500

Shikamaru had been anticipating this mission for a while. The Hokage told him it was of utmost importance to be ready at any time for this clan princess to show up. He was expected to drop all other missions or plans to escort this woman, whoever she was across the country to her homeland deep within Frost country. He wasn’t expecting much, actually he was expecting probably the worst client ever.

For someone to request escort at the drop of a hat like that, someone with enough money to do so as well... Shikamaru could only assume they were an asshole of the highest caliber. Probably some old woman or a spoiled little child, someone he definitely would not get along with for a month long mission just the two of them. He could remember the urgency in Kakashi’s tone when he assigned the mission, the amount of trust behind his words.

Shikamaru walked into the office casually, hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. Kakashi sat there alone at his desk, looking through paperwork and sifting through piles of white sheets, each with different names and faces. He must have thought long and hard about who he was to pick for this mission, the boy concluded.

This was going to be tiresome, he deduced quickly. Another tedious mission.

“Shikamaru, I have an important mission for you,” the man said clearly. “You can look through these files, if you want, but we don’t have any clear information on this one, I’m afraid.” He tossed over a folder full of records. Death receipts, birth certificates, first hand accounts of battles witnessed. He didn’t know what to make of what he was looking at other than a common last name running across the pages.

Hirawa.

“What is this about?” he questioned.

“In about a month's time, possibly longer, possibly shorter, I don’t have an exact date, you will escort Princess Y/N Hirawa, of the hidden Hirawa clan to the Land of Frost.”

“Who’s on my team?”

He shook his head at that question. “No one. This is a solo mission, and I’m entrusting you alone with this. It’s important you keep your mouth shut about all of this until we know it’s safe, for you and the princess.” Safe? Just what kind of mission was this anyway? Obviously it had something to do with this clan, not that he’d ever heard of them. “She has a bounty on her head, quite large at that. But we believe she can become the key to mastering some ninjutsu, particularly medical jutsu.”

“Well, what’s her clan’s kekkei genkai?”

“That’s what we don’t know, and for you to find out. All we know is that there's some dangerous people out there who want this power, and we need to protect her at all costs, you understand,” he stressed, and Shikamaru nodded. This wasn’t that big of a deal, he guessed. Protecting one girl from some rookie bounty hunters, not to mention he was being sent out alone. This was going to be a walk in the park.

The worst part of it all would be putting up with some troublesome girl for an entire month. Making conversation and having to pretend she wasn’t getting on his last nerve. That would tire him the most.

“Rumor has it, she was never able to awaken her ability, so I’m hoping you can help coax it out of her and see what we’re dealing with.”

“Of course. I’ll figure it out.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. You should take the files to look over in your free time, you’ll have lots of it before this mission. I have copies here for myself,” he motioned to another folder on her desk filled to the brim with papers just like the one he was holding. It was strange to have so much information at their fingertips, but not enough to put a description to their kekkei genkai. They must be secretive, similar to how the Uchiha hides their secrets on the stone tablet, or something.

He left the Sixth Hokage’s office and walked away to his home, where he could more closely go over the information in this folder, try to deduce something from all this random information. He would get to the bottom of this, he was a genius after all. Whether he had the help of this woman or not, he would figure it out for the Hokage.

And so, here he stood outside of Kakashi’s office with all his supplies packed in his bag, dressed for a long mission away from home. The princess had arrived. He was to meet her and then immediately they were supposed to leave off to her homeland.

The Anbu officer to his left opened the door, and motioned for him to walk in. So uptight for just a little meeting, was all this security really necessary, he wondered to himself. As he looked into the room, he spotted Kakashi standing along the window behind his desk with a smaller woman at his side, wrapped up in thick robes made of wool, embroidered with thick silver and white yarn.

Admittedly, her clothes looked incredibly expensive. He questioned how she wasn’t sweating bullets with the typical warm weather outside here in Konoha. He was expecting her to turn around, to be this hideous creature.

“Ah, Y/N, it seems your escort has arrived,” Kakashi hummed, placing a soft hand on the woman’s back as she turned around. When he finally got a good look at her face, he was taken aback, nearly enough to throw him off balance. She was decidedly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Wrapped up in those blankets was a young woman, who couldn't be much older than he was, with piercing eyes that immediately cut through his.

Her hair fell just perfectly around her face to frame her features, the soft color suiting her eyes and skin perfectly. Her eyelashes flickered over her eyes a few times as she gazed over at him, and he felt swoon. She had the softest skin he’d ever seen combined with those mesmerizing eyes and the shape of her face which looked like it belonged cradled in his hands.

He felt this inert urge to run in the opposite direction from her, out the room and down the hall, back to home where he could catch his breath. He already knew his cheeks were turning bright red under her stare, and he could tell Kakashi was judging him with those dark eyes of his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shikamaru Nara,” she hummed, and he felt faint. Even her voice was precious, almost like she was singing. He choked down his breaths, trying to keep his cool the best he could. It was uncharacteristic of him to act this way with a client. He was just her escort, not some pervert. They were going to live together for basically a month, he needed to get a grip on his emotions. “Your Hokage was telling me great things about you.”

“Oh, uh,” he paused, frozen without words to leave his lips, just an empty mind full of her image. He shook his head a bit, eyes now glaring down at the floorboards beneath him. “You too, Princess.”

“Please, just call me Y/N. Princess is just too formal for me,” she told him, waving off the title almost as quickly as it left his mouth. “Kakashi, it was nice getting to know you this morning, I hope to see you and your wonderful village again soon.”

“You’re welcome back whenever you like.”

She rounded the table and approached Shikamaru carefully, eyeing him down as she did so. She took in his appearance and his stance, the emotions she could see radiating off his person from his body language. From the looks of it, he simply appeared flustered and confused. Not exactly the most ideal for the situation at hand, but they would manage. Men usually had a similar reaction when they saw her for the first time, either they were in awe or they were trying to kidnap her.

He nodded in her direction and then to the Hokage before turning around and starting out the door, the girl following closely behind him. He could hear the swishing of her thick robes around her ankles, just barely skimming the floor. He still didn’t know her personality at all, but he wouldn’t mind looking at her once in a while on this trip.

“So, why are you heading to the Land of Frost?” he asked, and she sighed.

“One of the village elders is dying. They believe my kekkei genkai is the only way to reverse the incoming death, and its consequence on my people,” she explained.

“Why doesn’t another one of your clan members do it? Surely the rest of your family lives-”

“There is no one else. I am the last living Hirawa,” she told him simply, and he could sense a bit of ice dripping off her tongue at those words. How could she not be upset recalling the annihilation of her entire clan. “The problem is that I haven’t been able to awaken my kekkei genkai. I’m not sure what they want with a useless Hirawa like me.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about your clan, but calling yourself useless really isn’t-”

“How would you feel, Shikamaru, if you were the only person in the world with the ability to save a human being from their certain death and you couldn’t even activate that gift? You have to understand how that feels for me,” she told him solemnly, her head hung low as she walked toward the gates of the village right beside the boy. People looked at her as she moved through the village, they stared in awe at her clothes and her face and the unique glimmer in her eyes. And she cowered inward, tucking herself into her robes and the fur of her hood even further, away from the prying eyes of this village.

He stayed silent, not really knowing how to respond to what she’d said to him. The sadness and the anger in her tone, deep within her words, was immeasurable. She was in pain, a conflict with herself. He wasn’t going to get into that just yet. They’d only met a few minutes ago.

They left the village together and started on their journey. It was going to be a long month, that’s for sure.

________

It had been a week of walking through the forest already, days of sleeping on the ground beneath the stars, eating rations out of his bag over the fireplace. Originally, he thought this mission would be easy, that she seemed like a normal-ish girl who wouldn’t give him any trouble, but he was wrong.

She was too quiet. It was strange, walking with someone for hours without a single word shared between them. He tried to start up a conversation, and she would reply with one word answers, sometimes if he was lucky, two or three words. She rarely looked at him, choosing to either stare at the ground where she took each step, or up at the stars and the vastness of it all. She was lost in her own mind.

Every night, as they were falling asleep, he could hear her looking over at him, scanning his form for a sign that he was still awake. He would remain still, facing the opposite way on his side, head propped up on his bag. Then, when she thought she was safe, he would hear the sobs run through her weak form. She would shake and quiver, curling in on herself and crying out into the forest for only Shikamaru and the moon to hear.

He felt terrible for her, needless to say. The guilt he felt just from hearing her cries, and knowing her internal struggle was enough to make this trip difficult. His heart hurt for her, as strange as that was to say. Normally, it was easy to remain objective, but with Y/N, it was different. He felt attached. He felt like her problems were also his. It was maddening.

She laid on the ground beside him, the majority of her soup still in her bowl and her water bottle resting at her side. She stared up into the clouds, occasionally, her eyes would slide over to see what he was up to and then she would look back at the sky. “You need to eat. We have a lot of walking until we reach the next town, probably a week’s worth. I can’t carry you if you get too tired,” he told her, pushing her bowl closer to her side.

“You know, Shikamaru, sometimes I wonder why people like you Leaf nin even protect someone like me. What’s the point? I’m useless to you and the enemy,” she muttered hopelessly. He still pushed the soup closer until she sat up and took the bowl into her hands, taking a small sip from the spoon. “I just don’t get it. How can you call me princess when I’m just as normal as the next woman on the street?”

“Listen, I don’t know what anyone else has told you, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just because you can’t access your abilities right now doesn’t make you useless. You’re still a person just like everyone else,” he explained, stabbing his spoon into his soup as he found himself getting a little worked up. He couldn’t stand this self-pitying bullshit from her. Yeah, she was sad and all, but she didn’t have to rub it into the wound like this.

She looked surprised at his words.

What did she expect him to say? That she was right and then just abandon her out in the woods? He was beginning to think this girl was just plain stupid.

“It’s just been impossible since the incident to think of anything else. I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she sighed, taking another sip of her now cold soup.

He questioned carefully. “What incident?” He was on a mission after all. To discover her clan secrets and bring them back to the village to study. Even if she was being emotional, he could still gather some intel.

She bit her lip, and looked up to the sky again, blinking back tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes. She took a few deep breaths before explaining herself. “The day my clan was massacred. The day that those people slaughtered my sensei in front of the entire village and then killed my parents.”

He paused, lifting his eyes to look at her. She was crying, as he expected, silent tears dripping from her eyes into her lap. But she was holding strong otherwise, not a falter in her voice or a catch in her breath. She wasn’t even shaking. She was really serious about keeping these emotions private, in the middle of the night where he couldn’t hear or see.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he assured, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine. I should talk about it anyway. I haven’t had a person to talk to in years, you know.” Sitting on her face was the saddest of all smiles, a weak attempt at remaining strong. She wiped at her eyes with her wrist and continued. “I’m not even sure why they wanted us all dead, but it had something to do with the war and my clan’s actions. They were barbaric. They slit the throat of my sensei in town square and we watched her blood drip across town while they carried her head.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I know,” she agreed, “As sick as it is to say, I’m glad they only stabbed my parents with a sword. We used to be royalty, it took them killing an entire army of soldiers to get to the throne room to kill them. I was only a child hiding in the curtains, I had to watch without making a sound. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t even breathe, or they would have killed me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s horrific.”

“When they left, it was only me. I had to walk my way to one of the outer villages for help. I was a mess, covered in my parents blood. They’d stolen everything. All the secrets of the clan. I never got the chance to read the sacred texts. I only know from my Sensei the very basics of what we can do.”

He absorbed what she had said, taking in each word. Admittedly, she lived a terrible, horrible life, one to rival Sasuke at that. He asked, “You haven’t been able to retrieve any of the texts, have you?”

“No, unfortunately. That’s why it’s taken me this long to figure out how to unlock my ability. I literally do not know how,” she confessed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “It feels strange, knowing I have this ultimate healing ability and I can’t even use it to save anyone.”

“Ultimate healing ability?”

“Well, yeah. That’s our kekkei genkai. We can heal basically anything besides death. Blindness, deafness, rotting limbs, in some cases, paralysis. I’m not sure how it works, but that’s what it does. That’s why they want me to come home so desperately. I’m the only one left who can heal her.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he stated bluntly, and she tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“What?”

He reiterated, “You’ll figure out how to use your kekkei genkai. I believe in you. You’re beautiful, smart, and modest, not a fool.”

She found her cheeks begin to heat up at his words, and she leaned back, her eyes catching onto his. “Thank you, Shikamaru. It’s not everyday I get earnest compliments like that.” It was true. Normally, she did get compliments, but not the nice kind. She would often get harrassed on the street by men without brains, or recieve backhanded comments from people of her own village who hated her for what she could not be.

He shook his head, “Well, you should. You’re a strong woman, you just need more faith in yourself. You have almost no self-confidence whatsoever.” He was right about that too. Sad, wasn’t it? “You’re obviously a good person, so be proud of yourself. Not a lot of people could have gone through what you did and still be on the good side to this day.”

“I-” Y/N froze, her eyes growing wide. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her eyes flickering from Shikamaru into the woods. There were voices, soft and quiet voices, but they were still there, hush in the background. He stood up on his feet, and motioned for her to stay down close to the ground.

“Come out, whoever you are.”

And, indeed, a group of men emerged from the forest, at least ten of them. They sauntered up to the pair and the leader smirked. “We’re not here to hurt you, Leaf shinobi. Just hand over the princess and no harm will come to you,” he said, his voice musty and disgusting, like he’d been smoking cigarettes everyday for the past ten years. They knew, clearly, that a leaf shinobi wasn’t just about to abandon their charge and go running for the hills. His request was a joke.

Y/N wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t help even if she wanted to. She was solely a healer, and even then, her skills were shaky at best. She could only do the most menial and mediocre of work on her patients. Shikamaru was against these men completely alone.

She felt fear creeping up her spine and sending shivers through her body. She barely knew the boy, had only known him for a week or so, but damn, did she like him. He was kind to her, one of the kindest people she’d met in a long time. She wanted him to be safe, to save her and come out on top like the shinobi of the Leaf are supposed to.

He turned around and waved for her to run. “Princess, Imma need you to run. I’ll come find you when it’s safe. Just go.”

She was hesitant to take off, but one stern look from him shot down any thought of staying. The woman gathered up her robes and ran in the opposite direction of the crew and her protector. Immediately after she left, she heard screaming from behind, the shouts of men in pain and men filled with anger. So much yelling. She held her breath, and kept running, running until she could only hear the faint yells of the men. She couldn’t hear Shikamaru. He was far too quiet to have those loud theatrics on the battlefield.

Y/N took cover in the roots of a tree, and just listened, felt what was going on around her. She studied the chakra signatures floating through the air, counting how many men still lived and how many were alive and well. Likewise, she kept close track of Shikamaru’s energy, making sure he was still going.

If he died, she didn’t know what would come of her. Would she be sold off? Murdered? She knew of the unspoken bounty on her head amongst the criminals, and that struck fear in her heart. All she could do was pray for Shikamaru’s survival.

After what seemed like hours but in reality only about 10 minutes, the screams and shouts finally came to a halt. The chakra signatures of most of the men were completely gone, meaning they had died sometime during the battle. Only some remained, and they were weakened severely, probably passed out or bleeding out.

Shikamaru’s alarmed her. It was weak, almost as weak as the rest. She crawled out from under the tree and started back in the direction of the campsite, keeping her head low nearly in a crouch to stay unseen. There was no telling what was happening over there or who was still out here.

When she got to the campsite though, her eyes widened and she nearly screamed. While the rest of the men collapsed on the ground in bloody heaps, Shikamaru lay in the middle of them, bleeding out from a ginormous wound protruding from his side. She fell onto her knees beside his barely breathing form and held her hands over the wound, trying her best to run her chakra through her, but she was weak. Only a faint light emanating from her hands, not enough to come close to saving him.

“Shikamaru? Shikamaru, can you hear me? Please, try to stay awake, okay?” the girl pleaded, resting one of her soft hands on his cheek. He sighed into her touch. It was just as he imagined. Warm and gentle, like the caress of a feather. At least, if he were to die, it would be in the arms of an angel, he decided.

“You need to head back to the Leaf. Tell Kakashi what happened,” he sputtered out, blood leaving his lips and dripping down the sides of his face. “I lived a good life.”

“No, no, no. You are not dying on me. Not happening,” she whispered. She continued to pour her chakra into his wound, not that it was doing anything serious. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to keep them from falling, but she couldn’t help it. All these tears plagued her life. Memories that made her cry. All the pressure. All the death. Poor Shikamaru lying here dying after saving her life. “I’m going to save you,” she muttered firmly.

Pressure built up in her chest and she pushed further and further, digging deeper into her chakra reserve. It actually hurt the amount of effort she was putting in. It was exhausting, and after about a minute, she was gasping for breath. “Stop. It’s okay, princess.”

“Dammit, Shikamaru, I told you not to call me princess, “ Y/N shouted, and in that moment, she felt something shift inside her. A well of energy she never knew she had opened up and she felt it being filled not by her own chakra but by the men around her. Her body absorbed every last bit of chakra in their bodies, filling hers completely. When Shikamaru looked up at her, he noticed a slight glow coming from her skin that wasn’t there before.

It seemed she awoke her kekkei genkai.

With all the newfound energy she had, she channelled it into saving Shikamaru. Right in front of her eyes, his wound began to close and blood sunk back into his body. He groaned at the feeling, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. Finally, she had done something great.

And as she watched the last bit of his wound shut and the blood to seep back into his body, she found herself grow lightheaded.

As she was passing out, she heard him calling her name, and the only thing she could do was smile. She did it. She saved him. Her vision went black and sleep overtook her swiftly.

________

After Y/N saved Shikamaru and awoke her kekkei genkai, the boy gathered up both of their belongings, hoisted them over his shoulder, and then carried her in his arms to the next village. She wasn’t waking up anytime soon, he found that was probably a bad side effect of using the ability. It completely drained her. He just knew he had to move before any of those guys woke back up. He was not ready to fight again.

He enjoyed feeling her in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest with her head lolling side to side. Y/N was sweet and cute, with her little, “don’t call me princess” proclamation before saving him. It seemed she was just as much a princess as everyone thought she was, and a powerful one at that. She basically brought him back from the dead, and he would be grateful for his entire life for what she’d done for him.

The two of them rested for the night in a village inn just a couple miles away before waking up the next morning and setting off with a new bounce in her step toward your homeland where she was sure she could save the village elder now. He watched as the girl walked eagerly in front of him, swinging her robes by her sides and letting her hair loose instead of a tight braid.

This side of her, it was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. Maybe, he found himself harboring just a tiny crush on the girl who saved his life, the girl who took his breath away when they first met. Maybe he liked her a lot. It was pointless to have such feelings for a girl he would probably never meet again after dropping her off in her homeland.

But he could enjoy his time now, with the girl of his dreams at his side.

He found himself wanting more time with her. Much more time. He knew they only had about a week before they arrived in the Land of Frost, and it was depressing him. He wanted her to come back to the village with him and live there, just so he could see her face everyday and hear that sing-song voice run off her tongue.

Was that so much to ask for? Well, yes, but he still wanted it…

They found themselves stopped for the night or two in a village on the coast. She was tired from all the walking and sleeping in the grass. She was willing to spend a few dollars to have a nice bed to sleep in for the night. She booked a room at one of the inns in town and collapsed into the mattress in the room, throwing her robes to the side and cuddling into the comforter. It had been so long since she was living in such comfortable conditions.

He took a seat beside her and pulled out a book, flipping to the most recent page and diving in. He was more than happy to finally rest. He was lazier than she was, after all. They had been walking for almost a month now, he was tired of it. The only thing that kept him going was seeing her smile every now and then, especially the ones directed at him, or in response to something he said.

Something about those smiles just made him feel good inside. It was sickening. These mushy, gushy feelings he was having. He was beginning to think he might be falling for the girl, like, falling in love. He was disturbed. Was he really that weak to a pretty face, soft hands, and a warm heart?

“Shikamaru?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll be home in a week, and you’ll have to go back to the Leaf Village,” she said. He nodded. At that point, they would go their separate ways and it would all be over, this friendship they had. He’d never felt so torn about a mission until now.

He replied casually, “Yeah. Time flies, huh?”

She held her breath for a moment, thinking over her next words very carefully. She’d actually been pondering when she was gonna tell him over the last few days, thinking over every way the scenario could play out. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to leave you, Shikamaru,” she confessed, finally letting go of the breath she was holding.

He raised a brow, setting down his book and turning to face her. “What do you mean?”

“Well...it’s just that your Hokage seems to really like me, and I don’t really have a home anymore with my clan gone,” she mumbled, twiddling her fingers in her lap. “I was thinking maybe after I heal the elders and the village that I could go home with you instead. Live in the leaf village.”

He just looked at her. Had all his longing been for nothing? Could she really mean it? Coming home with him? Could his future really involve seeing her every day, introducing her to his best friends, and healing his people when they were injured?

“I mean, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, though, I totally get it-”

“No! I-I love that idea, actually.”

“Really?”

“Would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

He watched as her lips curled into a bright smile and she clasped her hands together. “Shikamaru, I’m so happy. You and the other Leaf nin are the only people to show me any kindness in a long time. I get to go home to people that will care about me.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good at that back in the Leaf. Caring, that is.”

She fell back against the bed and sighed, curling up in the sheets once again. He watched as she smiled into the covers and closed her eyes, relishing in this feeling of newfound freedom and happiness, of the hope she found in him and the village. Despite finding women troublesome most of the time, he was willing to go through trouble for her. He felt like he’d do just about anything for this girl.

So unlike him. Tch. Get a grip, Shika.

Her next words had him melting like putty in her hands though. He just couldn’t help it.

"I'm glad you were assigned this mission with me. You helped me awaken my abilities, and I think it was fate that brought us together for that to happen," she sighed. "This meeting, you and I, it was always meant to be. I'm sure of it now."

"Maybe you're right. I wouldn't know," he replied.

It was quiet for a while, just her lost in her own dreams, her own thoughts. Her eyes trailed over to him, and she just knew she was swoon. With his lazy grin and his thoughtful gaze. It was so obvious to her now.

She confessed, “I think I like you. As more than just a friend, Shikamaru. I know I probably shouldn’t be telling you this considering I still need you to escort me to the village and all, and you might not want me to go back to the Leaf with you now, but I just-”

He couldn’t wait anymore. He was going crazy. Finally, he kissed her.

She felt his hands resting on either side of her head and his lips pressed carefully to hers, testing the waters. She brought her own hands up to cup his own, bringing him closer and deeper into the kiss. She smiled and sighed, enjoying the feeling of pure bliss. It had been so long since she felt something so good. Something so sweet.

“You like me too?”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

And he kissed her again. And again. And maybe a couple more times after that.

#shikamaru x reader #naruto x reader #shikamaru x you #naruto #shikamaru nara #shikamaru imagine #shikamaru one shot #naruto one shot #naruto imagine #imagine #x reader #oneshot #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #shikamaru x y/n

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erosofthepen · 3 years ago

Text

Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.” Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.” Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia.

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

yan Shigaraki pt. iii

Also known as: MOMMY KINK

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only, dubcon, mentions of rape, bondage, drugging, kidnapping, blow jobs, cunniliginus, vaginal fingering, mind break, manipulation, prostate milking, switching, mommy kink, DARK FIC

Word Count: 9307

Notes: back y’all. this one focuses on that mommy kink everyone has been requesting, so, uh, come get your juice.

this fic is dedicated to & beta edited by @kugutsuu. i am but a humble acolyte at her shrine, so if you wanna see some grade A mommy kink, or more Tomura porn, plz, go read her stuff. it is marvelous.

Part III: MOMMY KINK

part i || part ii

The shower is grimy. Thankfully, most of the stains are old patches of soap scum or neglected bits of grout. You’d asked Tomura once, to clean it, but he’d just chuckled and shoved you into the glass box, saying he’d think about it, if you’re good.

It’s a pity you haven’t made it back onto the “good,” list.

It’s been three weeks and although Tomura has kept you close, hardly letting you slip from his sight, binding you when he has to leave the confines of his room, he’s clearly sulking in his lingering annoyance. An annoyance that’s firmly directed at you.

His touches are less frequent and there’s been a decided lack of that early, awed, wonderment and soft persistences. He used to stroke his fingers down your skin when you slept beside him, careful to let you know that he’s being cautious, not wanting to frighten, or worry you. Now, when he flops beside you, he turns his back, curling up, on his side of the mattress, shouldering off your tentative pets.

He’s distant and you can’t adjust to it.

You reach for the plain sliver of bar soap and work it into your shivering arms, building suds and foam under your fingers. The shower door is fogging up, thick with the wet heat from the spraying water, but you can make out Tomura’s outline. He’s perched on a low stool, one that he’s placed specifically in the tiled room, so he can keep an eye on you, so he can make sure you don’t try to slither away from him again.

It’s frustrating, the warring closeness and aloofness he’s giving you, and you grumpily slough off the bubbles of soap, watching as they swirl down the rusted drain. You were going to come back, you justify, wetting your hair and hoping there’s enough shampoo left to give it a proper soak. You only wanted to get your cat. It’s not your fault he’d forgotten him, when he’d drugged you and placed you under his power. Sure, you could have told him about the feline, but you just…

You wanted to do it yourself.

Since he’s taken you, you don’t get to do a lot of things by yourself anymore and you needed to prove...no...that’s not right. You’d wanted to taste the fresh air that night and yank yourself out from under Tomura’s omnipresent thumb. It’s exhausting, being held like this. You know, in his own twisted way, that Tomura loves you and there’s some answering part of you that’s starting to care for him, too, but those feelings don’t make you any less caged. Besides, you sigh, combing the shampoo into your hair, how could you not find yourself slipping into a ragged dependency?

How were you possibly supposed to prevent those budding needs? After all, took care of you and he fed you, both physically and sexually. God, you’d never had anyone fuck you like he did. You’re almost certain that he’d been a virgin when he fucked you, that first night, but damn, he’d more than made up for his inexperience with a genuine desire to see you satisfied.

It’s an odd rush of emotions.

You feel equal parts guilt and anger pressing at you. You didn’t mean for this to happen and it’s not fair he’s still taking it out on you. Besides, you’d only wanted to get your cat that night. You didn’t have grand plans of escape, or reporting Tomura’s undoubted villain status to the police. No, you would have come back. The most you would have risked was sneaking one quiet night's sleep in your old bed, but you would have slunk back to him in the morning, ready to see his outstretched arms and those lovely, fervid, eyes that flashed so much adoration when they rested upon you.

Yes, it had all gone to plan, that is, until he caught you.

He hadn’t spoken much, since that night, and you missed those early conversations the two of you shared. You know you’ve perturbed him, angered him, hurt him, and it’s starting to feel like there's nothing you can do about it.

However, while you were kept under strict watch, your rescued cat, on the other hand, has grown into a regal prince, free to strut about the hideout, often weaving under Tomura’s red shoes. Never, never, ever, would you have thought that you’d be jealous of a cat, of your cat. But you can’t help but bristle at the affection Tomura showers down on your feline, and your cat, that damned smug little thing, lapped it all up, purring and fat, content with his new supremacy.

You suck your teeth at the thought and quickly dash your head under the reassuring spray of the shower. When you turn, you catch sight of Tomura’s outline again and a sudden idea pops into your head. Before your failed rescue mission, Tomura had often luxuriated under your touches, almost vibrating some nights, drunk off the pleasure of your stroking hands. Although he’s been detached, maybe...maybe you could bridge that gap, with the right incentive, of course.

“Um, Tomura?” you call, curling your arms about your chest, shivering as you step from the misting of warm water.

He grunts, but that hazy silhouette doesn’t shift, solid and unyielding, despite your soft voice. You bite your lip and step closer, pressing yourself against the slick glass, not ready to give up.

“Can you come here, please?” you try again, infusing honey and light into your tone, hoping it might convince him to turn.

“What is it?” Tomura grumbles, but you notice him shift and you smile at your tiny victory.

“I need you, just for a second, if you...please, Tomura?” you’re trailing your fingers over the frosted dips and imperfections of the shower door and you can tell he’s starting to waver. It’s hard for him to pull away when you whine out his name like that. It’s likely a control thing, but that gasping want, that echo of need is something he’s done his best to encourage, liking that he can make you slip into a gooey, broken, state.

He stands and pads toward the steaming shower and you bite back a grin, pleased he’s maneuvering into place. Once he’s close, you crack the door open and poke your dripping head out, searching for his eyes. Tomura pauses when he catches sight of you, vermillion iries dark, narrowed and suspicious.

“What?” he asks again, his lips curling, lifting that jagged scar and revealing a line of straight, white, teeth.

“Can...can you do me a favor?” you question, dragging your tongue across your lower lip, tugging at the plush skin, silently rejoicing when you catch his eyes lowering, following the motion.

“Depends,” he snaps, his gaze flashing back to yours. You give a soft huff, disappointed that he’s not bending, at least, not yet.

“Will you, um, take a shower with me?”

Tomura snorts, looking over your sopping hair. “Don’t be stupid, you’re practically done.”

“What if I want to clean you off?”

“You calling me gross?”

“No,” you stammer, aghast and unsure if he’s joking. “I just...I want to do this, for you. You’ve been so good to me, I want to do something nice for you, too.”

“Liar,” Tomura taunts, but he does step closer, leaning one arm on the brass frame and peering over your half concealed form.

“I’m not lying. I’d really like to– ”

“Not that. You’re lying about me being good to you. Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. Should I list it out for you? To prove it. Let’s see, I’ve kidnapped you, fucked you, against your will, until all you can do is drool, begging me to stop, and I’m pretty sure that’s fucking called rape. What else? Oh, I’ve drugged you, tied you up for hours, almost killed your cat, ah, and I’ve been ignoring you, doing my fucking best to make you feel like the ungrateful little slut that you are. That enough? Or should I give you some more?”

You roll your shoulders, agitated. “Tomura, that’s not...I don’t want to talk about that. I want– ”

“You want to pretend again. To put on an act and go about the motions. Wait until I’ve lowered my guard and then you’ll fucking– hey– stop!” Tomura bristles when your wet fingers curl around his dark shirt, yanking him toward you and dangerously close to the wet tiles. His nose wrinkles and he tries to bat you away, hands roughly knocking against your pruned skin.

“Tomura, please. I’m not...I just want to be close to you. Don’t push me away, I’m sorry. I’ve told you that before and I’ll tell you again. You know I didn’t mean– ”

“Didn’t mean to sneak out of a window? You fucking accidentally woke up and thought, good time to make sure he’s out on a meeting, better make the most of this? Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you (Y/N),” Tomura growls, finally succeeding in shaking himself free, glaring down at your damp, wrinkled, brow.

Sighing, you sulk back into the warmth of the shower, pouting your lips and shaking your head, dropping tiny flecks of water across Tomura’s dark shirt and bare feet. “You’re really not going to forgive me, huh? Even if I tell you that I’m sorry, even if I ask for you to let me hold you?

That’s fucking mean, Tomura. You’re such a jerk. A fucking ass. You’re making me feel like some kind of bitch. Yeah, I didn’t ask for you to fucking kidnap me, but what do you want me to do?

It’s not my fault that...that I like you. That I like when you’re nice to me, that I like when you make me feel so...so good, and, well, wanted. You can’t...what am I supposed to do? At this rate, I’ll just hate you. So, if that’s what you’re...what...what you’re want...oh.”

You’d turned your face, while you snapped and berated him, so the feeling of his hard, bare chest, and the sucking pressure of his lips startles you. When your face lifts to his, his long fingers wrap under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His red gaze ensnares you and your breath catches, granting him the opportunity to shut the glass door behind him and press you against the slippery tiles. His free hand shifts to the temperature gauge and he rolls the heat down, hissing at the sting of the shifting water.

“Fine,” he smirks, slotting himself against your curves, letting you feel his rising cock and the sharp planes of his muscles. “I’m here. What is this, so called, nice thing you want to do for me?”

You laugh at his dripping sarcasm and arch into his arms, pleased when he gifts you a quiet shiver. “Turn around,” you smile, your eyes roving over his exposed figure hungrily. Tomura sucks his teeth, but he does as you ask and you reach beside him, slipping the block of bar soap into your palm. You scoot close and dampen the sharp protrusions of his shoulder blades, slicking them with the lukewarm water before pressing the soap over him. Once you get a decent lather built up, you let your fingers dip into his corded sinews, massaging out the rough patches until he’s groaning, a pleased hum radiating from his chest.

“Does that feel ok?” you ask, watching him tremble when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. Tomura responds by shifting back, cracking his back as he bows into your touch. You smile and cup some water over him, sloshing away the bubbles. Once his back is clean and gleaming, you rub yourself against him, kissing his neck.

“What’s your plan?” Tomura sighs, his voice hushed. He cranes his neck and you catch a glimpse of one bright eye, watching you, waiting for your response.

“Plan?” you ask, confused by his meaning.

“Yeah, you trying to butter me up? You think this is gonna change my mind? If you do something nice for me, I’ll have to repay you? Let my guard down?”

You click your tongue and pull him to you, urging him to turn around, so you can see him properly. “Stop it,” you tut, raising the soap again and repeating the soft circles and easy massages, liking that he’s starting to duck his head, a light flush seeping over his chest and nose. “I want to do this for you. Call me stupid, but it makes me happy to see you relaxed. There’s something nice about your face and...and how you look at me. Besides, you haven’t looked at me like that...since...since before that night.”

Tomura glances away at the reminder, breaking the hard stare he’d fixed you with, but he takes a shallow step toward you, letting the tips of your nipples glide over his slippery pectorals. You gasp at the sensation, enjoying the sweet tightening that races along your areola, puckering the buds into stiff peaks.

“Well? Don’t leave the job half finished. Keep going,” Tomura rasps, his hands cupping your lifted wrist and moving the soap over his sternum, before passing it along his abdomen. Nodding, you gulp and work your way down until you have to kneel, your knees digging into the water logged floor. Your head lines up with his half hardened cock and you eye the velvety flesh ravenously. You chance a peek up at him, but he’s still refusing to meet your eyes, his head turned, scowling darkly at the wet tiles.

“Tomura,” you begin, releasing the bar of soap, letting the rushing water snag it, carrying it toward the pull of the drain. “Why don’t you let me take care of this for you?”

Above you, his jaw sets and you can hear him grinding his teeth, trying to shrug off that deepening red blush. You’re not quite sure why he’s so affected by this, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Your fingers slide up his thighs, nails gently scraping and pressing as you near the apex of his hips, watching him rise under temptation of your proximity. Once you’re grazing along his dark curls, he unconsciously thrusts toward you, a tiny droplet of precum budding out of his slit, gleaming in the light of the bathroom.

“Do you want me to touch you?” you ask, your heart thumping wildly, unsure where this sudden urge, this need, to have him supplicate himself for you, is coming from. You want him to ask, no, you want him to moan for you as he blushes and pants. Oh, yes. That would look so good on him. “I can help,” you continue, careful to keep your eyes down, not wanting to give yourself away. “It looks...it looks like you need me to take care of you. Just ask me, Tomura. Ask me to..to…”

Tomura’s hand on the back of your head makes you lose your train of thought and you sputter into silence, your eyes lifting to his, waiting. He glares down at you, imperious and chilling. His nostrils flare when you breathe across his leaking tip and his hips shift again, thumping his heavy cock head against your parted lips.

“Suck,” he commands and immediately, you do your utmost to take him all in, your jaw aching at the familiar weight of him. Tomura groans at the suction and his eyes finally slip closed. You hollow your cheeks and curl your tongue, racing the wet appendage over his thick veins, feeling him pulse and swell. He’s salty and so, so deliciously earthy. Your mind clouds over and all thoughts of making him bend to you fly out the window, content in the happy pleasure of making him spill down your waiting throat.

******

Later, when you’re both dry and stretched out on his tattered mattress, he turns to you, pressing his face into your arms, sighing happily when you stroke a hand down his hair. It’s been a while, since he’s come to you like this, all contented nuzzles and heavy exhales. Even before your misguided escape, he would rather have you cling to him, than he to you. No, this is a different kind of touch. You curl around him and he begins to slacken in your hold, drifting into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

As the night passes around you, you revisit those musings you’d had in the shower, when he was doing his best to ignore you as you gently needled him, wanting to hear him ask you for your attention. You’d never thought much on domination, how could you? Half of the time, you were bound or gagged, especially in the early days of your capture. Tomura had always been unrelenting in his control and you hadn’t done much to question his iron backed rule, at least, not until tonight.

But once you noticed that tight lipped expression and that delightful blush he’d given you? Oh, you wanted something very different from him then. Imagine, you think, a mischievous smirk lifting your lips, just imagine him, gasping and whining, just for you. He’d look so nice, so handsome, like that.

You’ll have to be cautious and you’ll need to go slow, but fuck, you want to see him beg. Tonight was a good step. You’d slipped back into his good graces and you’d shown that he can trust himself, and you, to let him show you a gentler, more vulnerable side of himself. Now, let’s see if you can get something different from this arrangement. Besides, you reason, if you’re stuck here, you might as well have a little bit of fun.

******

He’s got you pinned down, his powerful thighs digging into your spread hips, slapping his meaty balls against the wet curve of your ass. His fingers are hovering over your clit, but he’s careful not to touch. He isn’t wanting you to cum, not yet. You can’t breathe when he takes you like this and his lips are close to the hollow of your throat, rising and lowering in time with his jagged thrusts.

“You’re too quiet tonight,” Tomura rumbles, his tongue dipping out to swipe up some droplets of sweat that have slipped down your chin. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me this is all you can take? I’ve seen you give me more. That’s it, be a good little slut, be my good girl, let me hear you.”

His thumb slithers to your pulsing bud, slipping under the swollen hood and encouraging that pulpy flesh to throb out, hot and wanting. You gasp and he lifts his head, pressing a rough kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Almost,” he taunts, positioning his index finger above his thumb, at the top of your clit, trapping it in his hold. The sharp, painfully cloying sensation he sparks makes you arch and his cock slips deeper, the head tapping against that final barrier of your cervix. You hiss at the distant echo of pain and Tomura sighs above you, surging his hips forward and grinding down, scraping his pelvis against yours, watching you tremble around him.

“You take me so fucking well, (Y/N). Such a pretty little pussy, all wet and open, so flushed and all mine.”

When he tucks back, gliding his length from your weeping cunt, you find your voice and you shiver out a question, hoping, praying, he’ll entertain the idea. “T-Tomura, I...I want to ride you.”

His brow furrows and he gives you a bewildered look, red eyes flashing over your distant, blissed out, expression. “Huh?”

“I said, I want to r-ride you. I want you on your back so I can...ohh...fuck,” your demand shakes to a halt as he gives you a harsh cant, his cock swelling as your walls flutter around him.

“What’s wrong with this?” he scoffs, lifting his rubbing fingers and leaving your clit abandoned and aching. You keen at the loss, hips blindly rising, hoping you’ll catch him before he’s too far away.

“Damn it,” you sulk, missing your target and tilting your chin, meeting his hazy eyes and wrinkling your nose. “There’s nothing wrong with this, I just want you deeper. Fucking you...ah– fucking you, when you’re on your back, will let me take more of you. Come on, just this once? If you don’t like it, I– ”

In the blink of an eye, Tomura wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, slinking under your quivering legs and stretching himself on the sheets. Your fingers scrabble for balance, accidentally scratching down his stomach. He growls at the sudden, trickling, pain but he’s impatient for you to move, so he responds to your unintended hurt by thrusting up, into your heat, leaking some of your copious arousal onto his thighs.

“This doesn’t feel any different,” he grouses, his eyes glaring up at you before they dodge away, scowling out at his room, already frustrated that he’s given into your request, especially since it’s not looking like he’ll be getting much out of it.

“Give me a second,” you complain, finally steadying yourself and bracing your knees on the soft mattress. Once you’ve gotten your barings, you rise up, savoring the sting of his thick cock as it’s lifted from you. You roll your hips when you lower yourself and Tomura grunts, minutely curving his back, his lips curling into a pleased grimace. “How’s that?” you ask, preparing to repeat the motion, keeping your legs close and your pussy clenched, exulting in his choked moans.

“It...it’s ok,” Tomura concedes, a lovely blush beginning to seep over his face. His fingers tremble when they settle on your working hips, urging you to pick up your pace, but you ignore his silent request, circling yourself as you bottom him out, gently teasing him.

“Awe,” you pout, trailing your hands to him, cupping at his jaw and turning him toward you. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quietly murmurs a few curses, trying to pull his chin from your warm digits. “Just ok?” you continue, letting your legs spread, rutting him into you, squeezing your sopping channel around his length. “I’m hurt. I figured you’d like this. Don’t I feel good? You feel amazing, so fucking hard and oh– Did you like that? Mmm, that felt nice. Tell me what it feels like for you, Tomura. I wanna know.”

He dips his head back, unable to resist giving you a few sharp thrusts, his hips taking on a mind of their own as he begins to pulse inside you. That blush has bled down his neck and onto his broad chest, sprinkling his skin with a rosy hue. You drag your nails over the redness and he sucks in an unsteady breath, his eyes popping open and fixing you with a dazed stare.

“Come on,” you taunt, bringing your knees back to the sides of his hips and lifting, rising, until his tip is beginning to slip from your quivering core. He hums at the feeling and the scar on his lip quirks as he gulps down a snarl. “I know, I’ll make a deal with you. Tell me how it feels for you and I’ll give you what you want,” you bargain, jutting your hips back and forth, teasing his swollen cock head until he’s digging bruises into your plush thighs.

“What...what are you…doing...” Tomura gasps, his head lifting as he attempts to regain some control, his hands gripping you, trying to force you back to him. You click your tongue and lean away, out of his reach. “Don’t be like that. I just want to hear what you think. How can I possibly know if this feels good, if it makes you happy, if you don’t tell me?”

Tomura’s legs curl under you and his head shakes, white hair trailing along his neck, sticking to his damp skin. “I– it...it feels ok, I told you that.”

“Daw, but that’s vague,” you sulk, although you do sink down his straining cock, not quite all the way to his base, but low enough to reward him. Tomura sputters out a hiss when you do and he flops back to the bed, shaking. “Come on Tomura, give me a little more? Please?” you ask, fingers trailing along his stomach, drawing patterns into his slopes and grooves.

“It feels...warm and it’s wet, so fucking wet, but...it...it hurts...I want more. Give me more. You said you’d take me deeper, not...not...ah– yes...yes…” He’s rasping as you engulf him to his hilt. You use your hands to brace yourself, picking up that cant, spearing him into you and keening when he hits something soft at the front of your pussy. Tomura’s eyes gleam when he notices your trembling and he lifts his legs, planting his feet under you and slamming himself into your undulating cunt.

Your fingers wander to your clit and you start to roll those heady circles against yourself, oscillating waves of pleasure from your slippery bud. Tomura lets out a long sigh and he shivers as you break, edging yourself along that sharp ledge and falling into the mind numbing ecstasy that waits. As you drip and clench around him, Tomura gives out a weak shout and releases into you, thick bursts of his cum pulsing against your overstimulated and aching walls.

You fall against him and he clings to you, kissing sloppily at your damp brow. After the heat of your coupling, your skin quickly begins to cool and you burrow into his warmth, careful to keep him tucked inside you, enjoying the softening of his length and the oozing slop that’s leaking from your cunt and onto the sheets.

“What was that?” Tomura asks, his voice distant, awed.

“What?” you repeat innocently, pleased that these little pushes you’re giving him are working. You like seeing him disheveled and desperate and you want to see more.

******

It’s been easier between the two of you, since you’d worked your way back into his trust, but Tomura, being Tomura, still has his darker moments.

He hasn’t permitted you to leave his room, still bringing you meals and keeping you close, binding you, or locking you in, when he can’t. But the nights are very different. He’s gentle with you again and he likes to duck into your arms, his white head pillowed against your breast. For your part, you’ve done your best to foster those urges, welcoming him and whispering soft words of praise over his bowed head. It’s a quiet lull and you like the shaking kisses he gives you, pleased with your acceptance.

One evening, however, he comes to you in a blind rage.

Someone’s done something to shake him, to work him into this state, molding him into a walking, talking, callous being of anger and vitriol, but he won’t give you any names, or any particular reason for the sudden wrath. Instead, he opts to shove you down and spread you open, barely slipping his pants over his hips as he tugs his engorged, leaking, cock from the elastic band of his boxers. You’re not prepared for his first thrust and he growls in frustration as he sticks to you, lingering outside of your heat, unable to press forward.

“Fuck,” he snarls, slicking his tongue over one thumb and lowering it to your clit, frantically rubbing at you, encouraging you to bead some of that glimmering arousal over your lower lips.

“Tomura...Tomura...wait...I’m...ouch,” you whine, unable to hold still, shrinking from his aggression. “You can’t just shove your dick in me...I’ve gotta– ”

“Shut up,” Tomura grunts, maintaining that rough pressure, pinching at your half risen clit, pulling the hood away and mashing the pad of his thumb over the tiny bud. “I just want to...damn it…why won’t you– This isn’t fucking fair. I thought...I thought you were always ready for me, now? Why bother with you if you can’t give me what I want? Fucking slut, come on. I know you want me. Why won’t you– hey!”

Grateful that he’s neglected to tie you down today, you kick at him, scrabbling away from his belligerent touches. Tomura, displeased, snatches your ankle and tumbles you over, cracking his hand against your newly presented ass, startling a strangled gasp from your lips.

“Stop that,” he scolds, yanking you back and pressing you down, lifting your posterior and running a warm palm down the fleshy curve, soaking in the heat he’s struck from your skin. “I’m going to fuck you, so you might as well get used to that idea. Now, keep still (Y/N).”

“And I told you to hang on,” you grumble, twisting your head around to glower up at him. Shockingly, he pauses, his eyes narrowing as he leans back, lowering his hand to his throbbing length, tugging at himself, relieving some of the pressure that he’s worked up, waiting.

“Just...what happened? Can’t you at least talk to me, before you try to fuck me inside out? What– ”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Tomura frowns, already pulling you back to him, prepared to line up with your unprepared cunt and shove his way inside you, ready or not.

“No, wait. But what if– ”

“But what if?” Tomura mimics, unamused with your continued struggles. “My head hurts and I want to feel you. So, stop arguing with me, stop being such a–”

“If you finish that sentence I swear to fucking God, Tomura, I’ll– ”

“What? You’ll what? What are you gonna do? Huh?”

“Ugh, stop being such an ass, Tomura. It’s not like I pissed you off. How would you like it if I did this shit to you?”

“If you fucked me until I couldn’t think anymore? I’d say thank you and not be so– ”

“So let me do that,” you snap, wriggling out of his grip and flipping yourself around, fingers already reaching for his half clothed thighs and pulling yourself up to him. Tomura freezes underneath your touch and his eyes are wide, whisking over your upturned face.

“You’ve got this, mmm, backwards,” he grouses, unable to resist bucking into you when one of your palms slips over his dripping cock.

“Do I?” you smile, kissing along his jaw, pausing to suck at his earlobe. He gasps at the sensation and his head butts into you, easing you off of that sensitive skin. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise,” you coo.

He’s quiet for a time and the only sounds you can hear are the wet squelches of your hand, gliding up and down his succulent cock, squeezing when you reach the tip and working some of that dribbling precum over your fingers. You’re about to posit another question when you hear him, breathy and low, rumbling out his answer to your soft seduction.

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Oh, fuck yes. You bite back your smile and pull yourself from his neck, meeting his eyes and reveling in that sweet blush he’s gifting you. Your hand keeps up a delicious friction, mollifying his ragged needs, and you study his face, debating your next move. He looks frustrated, but there’s something else hiding behind those vermillion eyes, something that’s curious, avid.

“Let’s see,” you ponder, already feeling intoxicated off of this new sensation, this burgeoning power he’s bestowing you. “Since you were, oh, so impatient earlier, how about you show me just how wet you want me to be?”

Tomura snorts, rolling his eyes. “You could have just said you wanted me to eat you out.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, was my request unclear about that?” you smart, lifting your fingers away from his cock, pausing to wipe his slick lubrication down his pants. Tomura sucks his teeth at that, but lets the impudence slide. “Well?” you question, laying back and cocking your head at him, spreading your legs, granting him a swift peek at your flushing pussy. “You gonna make me wait all day? Oh, and take your pants off. It’s not fair you always get to keep all the layers on.”

“Why the fuck am I letting you do this, again?” Tomura growls, slipping his long legs out of his stained jeans and tossing them on the floor. His shirt follows and, despite his grumbling, he quickly slots himself between your spread thighs, his nose already dipped and sniffing loudly, inhaling the heady aroma of you dampening curls.

His fingers thread to your dewy folds and he splits your lips apart, gathering some of the gossamer webs along his fingertips. You give him a pleased hum and he sinks his index finger into you, head lifting so he can watch you arch against the intrusion. “Hey, (Y/N),” he smirks, adding a second finger and v-ing the two, stretching you open, “I asked you a question.”

“Because you wanna see what I’ve got planned for you,” you gasp out, lifting yourself onto your elbows, wanting to observe his teasing explorations.

“Do I? What makes you think that?”

“You can’t help yourself. Besides, I think you like pleasing me. You like when I tell you nice things or when I say you’re doing a good job.”

“Hmph,” Tomura jeers, shaking his head at your assessment, but he doesn’t comment further, content to silently watch as your cunt swallows his fingers. Your arousal soon coats the digits and begins to drip down his palm and onto his wrist. He’s just about to lean forward, to press those rough lips against you when you tut at him.

“Uh-uh,” you scold, lowering one knee and trapping his hand between your thighs, barring him from you. Tomura flashes a displeased expression your way, but humors you, stilling his movement. “Gotta ask,” you inform him, arching one delicate brow at his redding cheeks.

“Ask? I thought you said you wanted me to make you wet?” Tomura sneers, his red eyes hardening, like flecked rubies in the darkness of his room.

“Sure did. So, do you think you’ve done a good enough job? Or are you wanting to do more?”

Tomura’s jaw flops open and he fixes you with a sour look. “What?”

“It’s not that difficult, Tomura. I want to know if this is the best you can do?”

“Of course it’s not. It’s– ”

“Well then,” you interrupt, lifting your knee again and arching yourself toward him. “Show me. Ask me if you can eat me out.”

“I’m not– I–” His eyes have drifted from yours and that blush is deepening, seeping over his skin, staining him with his flustered want. Oh, this is working too well, you think, tilting your head at his abashed grumbling.

“Come on, handsome,” you call, trailing your foot along his lean side, watching him quake and gasp. “Do it for me? Just this once?”

Tomura glances back up at you and he clicks his teeth together, trying to muster his wavering desires. “C-can I eat you out?”

“Oh, baby. That was so fucking good, thank you. Go on, you earned it.”

In seconds, Tomura’s beet red face is buried between your thighs. His lips latch onto your clit and he starts to suckle at the budding flesh, his saliva leaching from his lips. The warmth of him makes you shiver and your fingers sink into his silvery hair, threading along the strands and scritching at his scalp. His caresses are sloppy and he hunches himself closer, lapping and slurping at you, groaning when you flutter around his imbedded fingers.

As you’re indulging yourself, whispering soft encouragement over his bowed head, you notice one of his hands drifting toward his straining cock, his fingers twitching as they grasp at the bulbous head, eager to work out some of that simmering pressure. “Stop that!” you snap, startling him, making him lose his grip on you.

You curl your digits into his hair, yanking him up, straining his neck as you demand his full attention. His eyes are narrowed and gleaming, ire written all over his slicked face.

“What the f-fuck?” he growls, tongue lapping at the residual threads of your arousal, trying to work steel into his voice.

“I said you could eat me out, not that you could touch yourself,” you retort, tugging at his hair until he’s moaning, his hips unconsciously humping against the bed. “Oh, you like that? Well that doesn’t work at all. Get on your knees.”

“What? I thought that– ”

“Get on your fucking knees, Tomura.”

“Stop telling me what to do you fucking– ah– God.” Your fingers release his hair and before he can stumble out another snarl you’re shoving him back, your hand wrapping around his cock, squeezing and pressing quick jerks over him.

You let him fall to his back and you loom over him, teeth latching onto his scarred neck, biting and pulling, coaxing a low whine from his throat. Your hand slows and he keeps trying to rut into your palm, his legs trembling as he flounders against the sheets. “You wanna cum? Hmm, do you? You want me to finish you off? Talk to me, Tomura.”

He’s overwrought under your ministrations, his head lowered and his brow furrowed. His eyes keep opening and closing, too disjointed to focus on anything but your touch. He tries to gulp something out, but it’s lost in a smothered groan seconds later. He looks fucking cute, you think, watching him, rutting your hips over his raised knee. Drool starts to fleck out of his mouth and his back bows and arches. He’s practically unhinged, but it’s not enough. He’d never let you get away with not answering a question, so why should he get special treatment?

Your hand slows and he pouts, a long groan leaching from between his clenched teeth. “I asked you a question,” you mime, licking along his cheek, pulling some of that extra saliva he’d frothed out into your waiting mouth. “Do you want me to finish you off? Or should I leave you like this?”

“P-plea...finish me off,” he whispers, his voice rasping.

“Ooh, was that what I think it was? Baby, did you almost say please? I’d love that so much. Oh fuck, that makes me want to take care of you.” You kiss at his temple and he quakes, his hips rising, trying to force your palm back into that rhythm.

“I didn’t...I didn’t mean to...just fucking…(Y/N)...” Tomura lets out a reedy whine when you lift your hand from him, letting his cock spring from your grasp, the tip curving toward his stomach, swollen and red.

“Oh no, you didn’t mean to? That’s not nice, no that’s not fucking nice at all. Especially after I just told you how much I liked that idea.” you lift your sticky fingers to your lips and lick up the last bits of his precum, humming contentedly and lifting your eyes to his. He’s watching you, his eyes hooded and dark. His breaths are coming in low heaves and he’s gritting his teeth, but he hasn’t reached for himself. No, there is a wild look in his eyes and you want to see if you can make it worse.

“Say please and I’ll touch you,” you tell him, your voice lulling, tempting.

He looks away from you and he starts to shake his head, but then you hear him, whisper thin, broken, and oh, so fucking needy, so exquisite. “Please, I-I wanna cum. Touch me, please (Y/N).”

You take him back into your hands, your fingers gentle as they wrap around that velvet skin, careful to build him back up slowly. You rise up on your knees and tilt his chin up, wanting to feel his lips on yours. Tomura sucks in a ragged breath when you tap soft caress to him, his body surging forward, demanding more. You indulge him, letting him slip his rough tongue into your mouth, pressing and dipping until he’s inebriated off the sheer closeness of you. When you pull away he lets out a huff and you stroke a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re doing so well baby. Do you like it?”

“Y-yes, can...can you g-go faster?” he stammers, his mouth falling open and head tipping back when you acquiesce, picking up speed. He’s starting to sway, his back hunkering forward and backwards, knees spreading, drifting closer and closer to his release. Your thumb traces over his slit and you pull a glistening strand of precum from him, clinging and wet as it dangles across the short distance you’ve created.

“God, handsome. You’re doing such a good job, I’m so fucking proud of you. I know it’s not easy, but you’re perfect. How does it feel, love? Are you gonna cum for me?”

He moans at your declarations, unable to even gasp the words out, leaning forward and burying his face in your shoulder. His brow is jagged against your smooth skin, but you let him rub himself against you, feeling the heat of his blush and the damp stick of his lips as he tries to catch his breath.

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll take care of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Are you ready to cum for me?”

He nods, his head thumping on your neck, another thin strip of drool escaping his open mouth. It trickles down your breast, cooling and prickling your flesh as it passes. You kiss at his lowered brow and he sighs, muttering something that’s too distant for you to hear.

“Hmm, love? What was that? I can’t hear you,” you tell him, tightening the grip on his slippery cock, feeling those tell-tale flutterings that proceed his release. He’s scalding under your palm and he keeps trying to scoot closer, his hands shaking beside his hips, one of them reaching for you and digging into your side.

“I-I said...fuck...let me cum, mom...m-mommy, please,” the last two words leave him on a yelp and he pulses in your hand, spurting thick cables of his cum across your lap and his.

In the lull that follows, Tomura drags you against him, not caring that he’s smearing himself all over you and his chest. He pulls you down and wraps his long arms around you, caging you to him as he regains his breathing. You ignore the wet sticking that he’s rubbing into your lower half and you pull yourself higher, shifting until you can see his face. He’s still flushed and his eyes are clouded, but he lets you kiss at the side of his face.

A silence stretches over the two of you and you’re unsure what to say.

You’d liked pushing him and you’d liked how he bent to your demands, but that last comment, that final utterance he’d grunted into your shoulder as he worked himself into a frenzy, well, you’re not sure how you felt about that. Sure, it had made your pussy clench and you’re fairly certain it would only take a quick tweak of your fingers to shatter that burning ache within you, but what exactly have you awakened? Would he even acknowledge it, later after he’s escaped this haze that he’s slipped into? Would he...would he let you do that to him again?

His drying cum is making your skin pull and you try to shift from his hold, but Tomura keeps clutching you, refusing to budge.

“I- I just want to clean myself. Can I go to the bathroom? I’ll be– ”

“Don’t go, not yet,” Tomura replies, his tone gravel and forgotten ash. His arms tighten and you chance a quick glance at his turned face, meeting his eyes and absolutely melting.

His expression is slack and his eyes are wide, with a childlike wonderment, and when you look at him he smiles. “Stay with me?” he asks and you wrap yourself around him, feeling for that familiar beat of his heart as it pulses, steady and strong, under your shaking fingers.

******

A few days later, Tomura tells you to put on a new, grey, robe and leads you down one of the long walkways, toward one of the closed rooms that sits at the back of the hideout. He opens the door and hot steam pours from the tiled space, bushing against your face and tickling your nose. Inside sits a porcelain, square, ofuro bath. Your eyes lift to his, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s wholly focused on tugging you inside, sliding the door shut and sealing you both in the fresh condensation.

“Leave your robe on that table by the door,” he tells you, already stripping off his dark shirt and lowering his four fingered grip to his belt, clattering the metal under his nails. You shift to obey, carefully folding the soft fabric and waiting for him, shivering against the cool tiles.

Tomura turns to you once he’s finished and regards you silently, his eyes lingering over your face. “Come on,” he rasps, gesturing his head toward the bath. He lets you step in first and once you’ve sunk into the water he wedges himself behind you, hissing against the warmth. Tentatively, you lean your back to his chest and Tomura shifts you over him, slotting his legs alongside your hips. Once you’re both comfortable, you slide your feet to the end of the tub, resting your head close to Tomura’s collarbone, quietly luxuriating in the gentle warmth.

“So, um, I didn’t even know this room was here. Not that I know a lot about any of the rooms, so I guess that’s a stupid point. Anyway, why did you wanna do this? I mean...I like this, I’m just confused,” you correct, tilting your head up to look at his face. His eyes are closed and his lip is set into a light curve, smirking at your question.

“Think of it as my way of getting you back for the other night, in the shower,” he rumbles, his voice deep as it reverberates around your ears.

“Really?” you laugh, trailing your hand over the water, watching the ripples spread and fade.

“Yeah, haven’t seen you this off balance in weeks,” Tomura teases, resting his chin over your head.

“Pfft,” you scoff, brushing a bit of water over his chest, “you wish.”

“I do,” he sighs, bringing his arm down over you, quieting your playful splashes. “I figured you’d like this and you’ve shown me that it’s nice to do things for the people you love.” The mention of the word love makes your heart miss a beat and you try to peek up at his face again, but his chin holds you still. It’s not the first time he’s said it to you. No, he’s said it plenty of times before and in plenty of ways. Sometimes it was a threat, other times it was a calculation, something that was supposed to make you pause, make you second guess yourself, letting a strange, nagging guilt prick along the back of your mind.

But, there’s something different about this utterance of the endearment.

It’s quiet and it’s spoken with no layering of underlying motives. No, he said it like he...like he meant it, perhaps for the first time. You press back against his slick pectorals and he hums at the weight of you, pleased by your response to his declaration. The water laps at your sides and you snach his arms, wrapping them around you, stroking delicate designs over his wet skin.

******

“I don’t– I don’t think that’s it,” you pant, your fingers slick. They’re too slippery, really. You can’t get a good grip on him and you keep flicking your eyes up to his, positive he’s gonna to buck you off of him any second.

He’s quiet, his lips set into a white line, but that blush of his, oh, that will never not look nice. When you fumble again he shifts, arching and impatient, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. Why would he?

It was his idea after all.

He’d murmured the request when the water cooled about the two of you. But your chill was forgotten as soon as he rasped the words against your ear, tickling your sensitive skin. When you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, his cock began to swell behind you, prodding and curious.

As you entered his dark bedroom, he didn’t even give you a moment to breathe, lifting you to him, lips biting, sucking, licking you senseless. Once your knees bumped the mattress he urged you to sit, leaving your side to fish something out of a nearby drawer. He tapped the bottle down on the lone side table, nudging it expectantly and fixing you with a grinning leer.

You’ve never done anything like this, never thought about it, never...no...no, that’s a lie. You have thought about it before and you’ve heard about it, too. I-It was supposed to feel good, right?

Now, if you could only do this correctly.

You ball your hand into a fist and bite your lip, take a steadying breath and give him another lidded glance, watching him from the curtain of your eyelashes. “Ready?” you ask, rubbing your thumb and index finger together, trying to warm up the glossy lube.

Tomura doesn’t grace you with a verbal affirmation, instead he simply nods his head, cascading his white hair over his forehead. Alright, you think, scooting closer and lowering one finger to him, reaching for his cock with your opposite hand. You grip him firmly, coiling your digits and admiring the dribble of precum that greets your pump. Tomura lets out a low exhale and arches again, those fervid eyes falling behind his eyelids.

While you’re pulling and squeezing him, your trembling finger traces a circle around his puckered asshole, teasing at the muscle, giving him time to adjust. Once you’ve dampened him to your satisfaction, you dip into that warmth and gasp, your other hand faltering, accidentally loosening your hold on his straining length.

You peek up at him, but his head has fallen back and his broad chest is heaving. Again, he’s not protesting, or demanding that you stop, so you keep going. That first ring of muscle is tight, pinching your intruding digit when you try to sink further. As you wait for him to acclimate to the foreign sensation, you focus on his cock, bending your head over him and giving him a long suck. Your tongue swirls around his tip and you lap at the bubbling, salty, precum that floods your mouth. Again, Tomura stretches and shoves his hips forward, encouraging you, wordlessly telling you to keep going.

His dick slides from your lips with a wet pop and your hand makes up for the loss, jerking moans from his open lips. You twist your opposite wrist and drive your finger in, plunging the last knuckle past that quivering ring. Flexing the digit, you begin to feel around for a bulge, the one that he asked you to stimulate for him.

He said he wanted to know how it felt and, best of all, he wanted you to push him until he begged you to stop.

It’s hot and sleek inside him and you’re worried that you might miss it. After all, it’s not like...wait...what...is that? There’s something protruding and it feels both hard and soft under your finger pad. Unsure, you stroke over it again and Tomura does something wonderful in response.

When you apply the slightest whisper of pressure his legs curl up, bracing his feet against the sheets and he lets out the breathiest whine. His fingers scrabble beside him, slapping and gripping at the bedding until you’re sure he’s about to decay the whole fucking thing and leave you both blinking on the dusty floor.

“D-did– that feel good?” you query, amazed at the clenching his body is doing. Tomura nods his head, white hair splayed across the mattress and you pause, waiting for him to gather himself back together.

“Again,” he finally grunts, craning his neck to give you a staggered glare, his eyes cloudy.

Licking your lips, you give the gland another press and Tomura practically writhes off the bed. He’s groaning and gasping, choking out your name as he works himself closer. His cock pulsates in your hand and a line of milky white cum spurts out. It’s not enough to be a true release, but it makes your mouth go dry.

Tomura sits up and his eyes immediately ensnare yours, blazing as he looks up at you. “Fucking keep going, don’t stop,” he barks, his voice splintered, hoarse. Keeping your finger close to the swell of his prostate, you shake your head at him. Tomura snarls at your impudence, but when you start to withdraw your finger he quiets, his teeth grinding behind his scowling face.

“Don’t be an ass,” you challenge, fingers scooping up some of his leaked cum, using it to ease your renewed motions. Tomura buckles at that and his head drops to his chest, shaking out a few unsteady breaths. “If you want me to keep touching you like this, you better ask me nicely.” To emphasize your point, you lightly scrape your nail over that sensitive spot inside him, making him shudder and sigh.

“Keep going, please,” he spits out. It’s dripping with more false supplication than true politeness, but you’ll take it. Since he reacted so well to that first press, you can’t help but wonder what he’ll do when you circle some modulated pressure around him. Oh, and it’s a perfect reaction. As soon as you complete that first rotation he’s a gooey mess, his bowed head shaking and nodding as he scrapes out your name.

“Oh handsome,” you sigh, watching as another burst of precum trickles from his slit, coating your hand in a tacky sheen of pearl colored liquid. “You look so good. Being such a good boy and taking me like this. Does it feel good? Do you like it? Talk to me.”

Tomura whimpers when you repeat the oscillation, his voice slipping into a giddy edge, cracking and rising. “Fuck yes. It– it feels– oh fuck– again, again. Do it again. I-I mean...please. Ohhh God, (Y/N)!”

He’s laughing now, his throat snagging as his moans hit a high pitched garble. “Ah-haha— I know, you liked it when I called you mommy. I saw your fucking face. It looked so pretty. Want me to say it again? Ah– oh, oh. I’ll do it. I’ll do it if you keep– hahaaa— fuck, fuck, fuck– I’ll– m-mommy. Oh, fucking God. Mommy don’t stop! Come here, fucking come here. I don’t care if you’re not rubbing my dick. Come here mommy and let me show you how much I fucking waaant you.”

His hands paw at you and he drags you up, lifting you with a lithe strength that you’ve never seen. Your finger, too slick to withstand the pull, slips from him and he groans at the loss. “I didn’t mean–” you begin, but he silences you with a fevered kiss, his teeth clinking against yours. He drowns out your protestations and swiftly straddles you over him, pressing you down and spearing you onto his messy cock.

Once he bottoms out, the tip of him pulsing deliciously as he indulges himself in your wet heat, he leans back and gives you a wild grin, his eyes bright. “Fuck, yes. Ride me mommy. Let me show you what a good boy I am.”

notes: (￣▽￣*)ゞ

tags: @libiraki (i’m tagging you cuz imma make you into a tomura fucker if it’s the last thing i do) @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

678 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

Text

Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 04

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: I swear, it’s so hard getting back into writing because I’m permanently convinced that everything I write is bad lol. If you enjoy reading this, please let me know by leaving me an ask or writing a comment on a reblog! I appreciate all the comments I get and it helps to inspire me on <3

Last Chapter ; Next Chapter

The Winter Solstice Ball was a newer tradition at Hogwarts. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, there hadn’t been anything resembling the ball that would happen. The closest you knew of was the Yule Ball, but that only occurred whenever there was a Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Something that hadn’t occurred since the unfortunate events of 1994, when poor Cedric Diggory had been murdered by the dark wizard Voldemort. As expected, it had been mutually agreed that the tournament should no longer continue to ensure there could never be another event like Diggory’s death.

Admittedly, that had been a rather unique set of circumstances. The inclusion of the wizard, Harry Potter, in the Tournament had been arranged by dark wizards on the behest of Voldemort, meaning that Diggory’s death had been even more tragic as he wasn’t meant to be there.

In an attempt to bring more cheer to what should be a happy holiday, Hogwarts had started the Winter Solstice Ball tradition. Unlike the Yule Ball, all years were invited to attend and it also wasn’t on Christmas Day. Instead, it was held on the last day of term and was just a fun event for everyone to enjoy and let off some steam after their first semester back.

You’d always enjoyed it as a student; feeling like a grownup during the first few years and using it as a great way to flirt with boys when you were older. There hadn’t been a year that you hadn’t loved going to it.

It felt a little odd this time though as you were attending as a professor, which meant you had the job of chaperoning all the excited students for the evening. As such, you were excited for an entirely different reason as you would get to watch the First Year’s experience of the ball.

The House Elves had gone all out when decorating the Great Hall today, bringing the feeling of winter inside and taking your breath away. Standing by the open doors, you look around cavernous space with wide eyes and a bright smile. Chaeyoung was next to you, a dress of starlight gracing her body and highlighting just how beautiful she is.

You’d already complimented her as soon as you’d spotted her, admiring the elegant design of her dress and how the tiny crystals are sewn into the fabric reminded you so much of sunlight hitting frost on a winter’s day. Her long black hair was curled into soft waves with her fringe pinned away from her face with a delicate snowflake.

Where she was all light and ice, you were the sumptuous darkness of winter. Your dress was a sumptuous royal blue around your chest which slowly blended into deep midnight by your feet, a shawl of the lightest chiffon in a dark blue around your shoulders. Silver glinted occasionally, threads of it woven through the fabric of your dress and adding a little sparkle alongside the dainty silver necklace around your neck.

The two of you made a striking pair and the combination of a full face of beautiful makeup combined with the jaw-dropping dress made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Whether that was true or not, you didn’t care.

The hall itself matched the colour scheme of you both with long swathes of gauzy fabric in rich lavender, crisp white and shimmering silver decorating the tall windows and streaming from the ceiling. Tonight, the ceiling had been enchanted to show clouds backlit by a full moon and tiny flakes of snow fell. They didn’t reach the ground though, melting away a few metres away from the tallest person in the room.

Candles lit the room in all corners, hovering in the air and situated around the room and the tables. A large open space in the centre of the hall was reserved for dancing while a raised section before it hosted the musical entertainment for the night. Small tables surrounded the floor, each only big enough for six people and with white cloths embroidered with tiny snowflakes in silver.

Platters piled high with finger foods dotted the tables alongside empty goblets and jugs of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. A few of the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts floated through the tables, greeting the formally dressed students with cheer and getting into a few conversations with some of them.

Already the hall was filling nicely, students greeting you happily as they rushed inside to meet up with friends and a few of them had already begun to dance. Some of them danced together, trying to figure out how to ballroom dance with the typical awkwardness of teenagers discovering their hormones, and others danced in friend groups. The latter seemed to just be having fun, shaking their bodies wildly to the beat of the music.

“I remember doing that.” Gesturing towards a group of mixed house Fourth Years, you grin at Chaeyoung before chuckling at the memory of dancing like that with Jisoo, Robert and Candace. That had been your ‘group’ of loyal friends throughout your years at Hogwarts, though only Jisoo had remained a close friend once you’d all left.

“Merlin...me too. I had no rhythm back then. Still don’t. Dancing is not for me.” Chuckling, you lean into her and push until she staggers away from you a little before returning the gesture. Glancing around the hall, you note the more introverted people sitting at the tables and sipping at drinks. They don’t seem to be uncomfortable but you resolve to check up on them throughout the night to make sure they’re okay.

“One thing I do love about working with such handsome men here? They make the ball so much better to enjoy.” Chaeyoung hums over the top of her goblet of butterbeer, her refined brows rising in amusement as she looks across the hall. Following her gaze, you have to hide a smile as you take in the sight of some of Hogwarts most eligible bachelor professors and how well they smarten up.

Park Jimin is standing next to Kim Taehyung, his silver hair styled even more elegantly than normal while his dress robes look to have been perfectly tailored to his slim body. A white bow tie adorns his neck and he’s smiling at whatever Taehyung had told him. The Gryffindor Head has his usual boxy smile and you note that he scrubs up just as nicely. Together, they make a lethal pair in terms of looks.

“Now, now,” You muse lightly, looking over to Chaeyoung with mischief on your face. “We’re here to chaperone, not to swoon over good looking men like the teenagers we teach.”

A derisive snort is the only response she gives you, but you see that she’s not taken her eyes off the two younger men. Idly, you wonder which would make the perfect partner for her. You’d consider Taehyung to be a good candidate as their fun-loving natures would get on well, but there’s something about Jimin that makes you think he’d be an even better pick.

She wouldn’t even have to change her last name.

Any more thoughts you have on the subject vanish when the newest professor walks through the door. Black hair made darker from some kind of styling gel is swept up from his forehead, a strand or two falling stubbornly and giving him an almost charming appearance. Deep black robes sweep from his shoulders, covering up a suit that highlights his body in all the right ways.

Unlike Jimin and Taehyung, his outfit was completely black and you swallowed instinctively as you let your eyes run down his frame. Hoseok pauses at the doorway, pink lips moving as he talks to Nayeon, the divination professor. She looks pretty in a floaty dress of bubblegum pink and fizzing lilac, her smile genuine and eyes sparkling as she looks up at him.

Lips twisting, you turn away from the sight and don’t even notice the way Chaeyoung is watching you closely, her lips turning up in a smile she tries to hide. Looking away from you, she catches Seokjin’s questioning expression across the hall and nods at him subtly, enjoying the way the astronomy professor gets a determined look on his face.

“Speaking of men who are too beautiful to be real, Jung Hoseok always looks so good at these events. How is a man like that allowed to even exist?” There’s a breathy note to Chaeyoung’s voice, causing you to frown at her a little before looking back over in his direction.

Nayeon is still standing there, a forlorn expression gracing her face as she watches Hoseok move away from her. It’s only then that you realise he’s walking towards you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Confusingly, you’re a little unsure of what to do or how to act.

Not when he’s looking like that. This is not the shy and awkward Hoseok with his dress robes too big for him, the only memory you have of him at the Winter Solstice Ball. He couldn’t be any further from that teenager and you don’t know how to handle that.

Especially when he gives you that breathtaking smile, his cheeks rising and dimpling while his dark eyes shine in delight. You should’ve known the Jung genes would result in him growing into an attractive man; his sister was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen.

“Y/N, Chaeyoung,” He bows his head to you both, that smile just as prominent and you nod back to him a little awkwardly. “You both look beautiful tonight. Winter is personified with your colours, it’s nice.”

For a moment, you’re a little lost for words on how to respond to him. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been so casually complimented, especially from a man. A man as attractive as him. It causes you to swallow wrong and you cough loudly, pressing a hand to your throat.

“Thanks, you’re looking pretty fine yourself tonight,” Chaeyoung teases him, causing that smile to become a little more bashful. “Anyway, I’m going to leave you two alone for a moment, okay? I need to go talk to Seokjin about something.”

You watch her go with wide eyes, noting with suspicion that she’s moving a little faster than you’d expect and you wonder if she’s up to something. But then you realise that you’re being left alone with Hoseok, who’s casually looking you up and down while you’re attention is elsewhere.

It’s only when he catches your eye when you look back, a brow raised, that he realises you’ve caught him. Hoseok turns his head quickly, probably giving himself whiplash and you have to hide the snort at the soft blush on his cheeks.

He may be all grown up now, but he still reminded you of that shy boy who never quite knew how to talk to you.

Reaching out, you poke at his chest and grin at him.

“She’s right, you are looking good tonight. Cleaned up very well.” Hoseok gives you a droll stare and you laugh, feeling any awkwardness rushing away as you both fall into the easy-going nature of your friendship.

The rest of the evening goes by in much the same manner with the two of you separating on occasion to handle issues with students or just to do a walk around. Apart from that though, you both end up spending more time with each other than with anyone else. Conversation flows easily like a fast-moving river and you find yourself laughing more than you have in a while.

You only have to break up one fight between two young boys; the culmination of weeks of tension between the two finally bubbling over. It starts with raised voices before escalating to blows, resulting in you escorting the two to Madame Pomfrey to check for any injuries. After that, you leave them in the hands of Park Jimin to discipline them given their house.

When you get back, you look around for Hoseok or Chaeyoung. You can’t see either of them, causing you to take up a place at the back against the wall to observe for any fallout from the fight. Thankfully, the mood seems to have picked up and you wonder if that’s got anything to do with the more upbeat music that’s being played.

It was never nice watching your students get into fights with each other or lose friendships, but you knew that was part of growing up. The thing about teenagers, and kids, was that they were incredibly resilient. You did not doubt that they would both be back to being friends within a week or so.

“All sorted?” Comes a deep voice to the right, the sound closer than you expected and causing you to jump slightly. Turning to look, you note that Hoseok has turned up out of nowhere and you relax at the sight of his familiar face.

“Yeah, no injuries to each other apart from wounded pride and friendships.” That causes Hoseok to snort and roll his eyes, leaning back against the wall alongside you. Suddenly, you recall how many times Jisoo complained of having to comfort her brother when he’d had yet another fight during his tenure at Hogwarts.

“I’m sure you know all about that, Mr Jung. I remember Jisoo having to deal with you. You were shy but a firecracker.” He sighs deeply and you lean into him, giggling as you regale him with some of the tales she’d told you. Thankfully, he takes it all with his usual good nature and you end up segueing into other memories of your time at Hogwarts.

The exams and the studying, the professors back then and your favourite subjects. It’s something he already knows as you’ve both discussed it previously, but he indulges you and listens amiably while keeping an eye out.

You’re stopped though when he suddenly interrupts you, straightening slightly.

“Would you like to dance? There’s not as many people out there now and you haven’t danced once tonight.” His question is abrupt, causing you to falter in your conversation. Narrowing your eyes, you look him over closely and wonder if he’s being serious. And you conclude that he is.

Looking over at the dance floor, you contemplate for a moment and chew your lip before nodding. Now it’s your turn to feel shy, avoiding his gaze and trying not to catch the eye of anyone else in the hall as he leads you carefully to the floor.

There’s probably a few statues in the British Museum that are less stiff than you as you turn to him, feeling his hand as he settles it on your lower back. You’re hyper-aware of that hand; how hot it feels against you even with the fabric of the dress between you. But that pales in comparison to the feel of his hand against your own, the way he holds it almost tenderly.

Logically, you know that he’s doing that because that’s how you’re supposed to dance like this. A light touch, but it makes you feel a little strange. You’re not sure why it makes you feel like that and you find yourself staring at his long fingers, wondering if he kept up the piano he’d been taught when younger.

The music leads you both in the dance, each beat dictating where you move and you’re vaguely aware of the students dancing around you. None of them are staring or looking confused as there had been many professors who had danced together tonight. But you couldn’t help but feel like this dance was a little different.

This was the closest you’d ever been to Hoseok and his body is so close to your own that you can physically feel the heat coming from him. Every breath you take brings the smell of him into your nose, the familiar mix of rich wood and lemongrass that is so, undeniably Hoseok. And underlying all that is the smell that’s unique to him.

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly and you stare at the black button-up covering his chest, avoiding his gaze given how close the two of you are. It’s probably not the best thing to do when you realise that shirt is straining a little and you can see the outline of his torso from the light of the nearby candles.

Swallowing hard, you look over his shoulder and try to ignore the sudden knowledge that Hoseok is buff beneath his clothes. Which doesn’t help, because you find your eye trailing down his chest as you consider. It’s only when you reach his belt buckle that you suddenly look away, taking a deep breath and wondering what was wrong with you.

You’d had one too many butterbeers tonight or something, which was a terrible excuse as it had such little alcohol content that it didn’t even matter. This was Jisoo’s brother, her little brother. Not someone you should be thinking about half-naked.

Right?

Finally, though, you register his question and nod quickly in response. You’re not sure that you can talk to him without saying something inappropriate as your brain isn’t working very well right now. Not when you’re so confused about...well everything.

“Are you sure? You’ve gone a little weird. Quiet.” Hoseok murmurs, his voice low to avoid any of the students overhearing it. Sighing, you stand a little straighter before looking at him directly and giving him a firm smile. It takes a little more effort than you’d like to push away those errant thoughts but you do so.

“Fine, just worried about those students. I hate seeing their friendship ruined and them angry at each other, you know?” It’s not a lie as you are still concerned about them, but he doesn’t need to know everything going on in your head. Which is why you’re thankful when he nods slowly before spinning you around.

“They’ll be okay. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that they’ll be back to being friends sooner rather than later. They’ve already got some of that testosterone out by punching each other, which I’d rather they didn’t do but Jimin will talk it out with them. Don’t worry too much, they’ll be fine.” It’s sweet how considerate he’s being and you can hear how genuine he is in his voice.

You don’t get to say anything else though as the tempo increases when the song switches over, causing Hoseok to twirl you away from him with a laugh. All around you the dances start to get a little more energetic and you can’t help but shriek with joy as he matches the student’s enthusiasm, listening to them as they cheer at two of their professors getting involved in the frivolities.

Neither of you notices the way Seokjin and Chaeyoung watch you both closely before smirking at each other.

Glancing around the room, you note how most of the students had already left and gone to bed for the night. The clock had struck midnight a while ago and you had to press a hand to your mouth as you yawned, turning your head away to be polite. A few remaining students were still dancing on the floor but even as you watched, some of them started to walk towards the exit.

Looking over at Chaeyoung, you caught her eye with a wave and smiled with relief when she nodded and made a shooing gesture. Turning to Hoseok, you tried to hide another yawn and almost giggled when you saw that he’d caught one from you, his mouth wide as he didn’t even try to hide it.

“I think we can go now. Chaeyoung gestured that we can leave so I think they’re going to hustle the last students to bed. Something which I’m also very excited to do because I feel like I’ve been awake for two days right now.” Blinking and almost trying to stretch your eyelids by widening them as far as you could, you almost missed the way Hoseok laughed at your antics.

“Tired? It’s not even two in the morning, I expected better of you.” He teases, gently pushing his elbow into your arm before avoiding your hand as you try to swat him. You’d admit that he looked a lot more awake than you did, which you’d say wasn’t fair but you don’t think you’ve ever truly seen him look tired.

“Well, you’re still young and spry. You’ll learn when you get to my age.” Moving off towards the doors of the Great Hall, you grab a tiny triangular sandwich from one of the remaining platters on a table as you pass by.

Light pressure on the small of your back causes you to arch slightly, your chest moving forward and you tilt your head to look at your companion. There’s no expression on Hoseok’s face, nothing to indicate he’s affected by touching you and you frown slightly as you wonder why it’s affecting you.

“You’re not old, I don’t know why you keep thinking that.” He murmurs, voice deep and quiet.

Neither of you says anything more for a few minutes, instead just walking quietly through the hallways. It’s a comfortable silence and you muse for a moment on how much you’ve come to enjoy spending time with him. You would happily say that he was your closest friend here at Hogwarts; something you would’ve never thought would happen when you were studying here and he was just your best friend’s little brother.

That makes you think of how defensive he always gets whenever you, or anyone else, seems to imply that you’re old. Huffing out a laugh, you bite your lip as you contemplate that for a second. Maybe he doesn’t like the implication that you, and by extension, his sister, are considered ‘older’ by the students. Or that he’s also approaching thirty.

The student’s opinions have never bothered you as they think anyone over the age of twenty is old. Nor have you been concerned overall, given the extended lifespan that witches had compared to muggles. You were finally feeling content with your career and your life, something you attested partly to growing older and becoming more at ease with yourself.

But he always got so defensive of it, so maybe he was concerned about himself.

“You don’t have to keep defending my age, you know,” Apparently you were going to query this with him and you blamed the butterbeer for loosening up your tongue. “I’m okay with it, honestly. Which means I’m okay with joking about it.”

Hoseok stiffened slightly and you spotted his expression looking a little uneasy. Frowning, you placed a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop. Your quarters were only a few corridors away now and the two of you were given a warm glow from the candles lit nearby.

“I’m not defending...I mean, okay maybe I am. I just...I don’t want you to feel like it’s an issue.” Now you’re giving him an amused look, lip quirked up on one side as you try to hold in a small giggle.

“It’s not an issue. Have I made it seem like it was?” Tilting your head, you watch as his eyes dart across your face in an almost shy manner.

“No...well, not in the way you might think,” He looks uncomfortable and you’re about to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to continue but he does so before you get the chance to speak. “I’m just made every aware of our age difference. You know, the whole ‘you’re her best friend’s little brother’ thing.”

“Hey, I don’t do that, do I?” Now you’re a little concerned.

“No, not really. Not for a while anyway. You did when you first got here but I understood that. We hadn’t met in a while and everyone was curious about how we knew each other. But now...I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Honestly, it’s not important. You’re right.” Hoseok’s babbling a bit but you decide to let him change the conversation. You’re not entirely sure why it truly bothers him, but you’re not going to press it anyway. He deserves to have his feelings and they don’t need to be analysed.

“Okay-” Before you can say anything else, you hear the quiet chiming of bells and frown in confusion. The sound echoes a little in the empty corridor, simultaneously creepy and also ethereal.

Hoseok looks around as well, his brow knitted in confusion before he suddenly spots something about you both. Following him, you note the odd plant that’s grown from the ceiling out of nowhere. The green branches are still growing and you note with interest the small white berries that seem to be forming and familiar leaf shapes appear at the end of each branch.

A red ribbon is delicately wrapped around the stems and you see the little golden bells that let out tiny chimes as they rock from side to side in a non-existent breeze. Now you’re the one frowning as you look around you both, trying to spot who’d set a mistletoe charm to grow when someone walked beneath it.

“Mistletoe?” Hosek whispers, reaching up with one hand in an attempt to touch it. He can’t reach it and you sigh, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Someone has thought it’d be funny to put mistletoe charms around the castle for the ball. Certainly adds to the Christmas spirit. I’ve seen these popping up all night above couples on the dance floor. I think it’s a seasonal Weasley thing, seems like something they’d sell to annoy people.”

The mistletoe is suddenly snowing, letting tiny snowflakes drift to the ground around you both and leaving fluffy snow to settle on Hoseok’s hair and dress robes. How very romantic, you muse to yourself.

“Does it just disappear on its own after a while?” He asks, running his fingers through his hair to try and get rid of some of the snow. Smiling at him, you gently brush at his shoulders only to decide it’s a losing battle as more snow lands.

“Nope. You gotta kiss, that’s the whole point of mistletoe, right? Otherwise, it follows you around.” Hoseok sighs deeply and rolls his eyes.

“Of course it does. Definitely a Weasley thing.”

Looking back up at the mistletoe, and having to blink to avoid getting snowflakes in your eyes, you purse your lips before looking back at Hoseok. You’d long since come to terms with the fact that you find him attractive; anyone with eyes can see that. But you hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, not given who he was and who his sister was to you.

His words from earlier play through your mind though, and you wonder if he hates having to constantly know he’s given the best friend’s little brother status. Even now, months after you’d arrived and you considered him a friend, you knew that there were still people who thought of that as the most defining characteristic of your friendship.

Letting out a little sigh, you straighten your shoulders before reaching out and taking hold of his dress robes. Fuck it, you’re not one to waste a perfect chance.

Pulling him closer, you watch as his eyes dart to yours and widen when he realises that you’re moving towards him as well. And then those same eyes flick to your lips, the movement so fast that you’d almost miss it if it wasn’t for the fact that he did again only seconds later.

Combined with the zero resistance he was giving, you came to the solid conclusion that he wasn’t going to reject you. Not when you were giving him plenty of time and reason to back out if he wanted to.

Tilting your head to him, you felt his warm breath as it caressed your face, the smell of butterbeer strong. And then your lips are pressed together, neither of you sure who made the final move and neither of you gives a damn at that exact moment.

The pressure of your lips against each other is gentle at first, almost hesitant as both of you try to figure out where to go from here. All that was required was a kiss, which was what you were both doing right now. But you didn’t quite want to let him go just yet, not when you knew he probably had so much more to offer.

Shifting, you manoeuvred your way into a position that made the kiss a little more personal and no longer like two teenagers who’d never kissed in their life. Letting go of his robes, your arms move to wrap around his neck and you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying how soft the black strands feel against your fingers.

A quiet noise leaves Hoseok, his arms sliding around your waist to pull you a little closer to him while he kisses you more forcefully than before. It feels...you can’t even find the words to describe how it feels, only knowing that you’re not entirely sure you want him to stop.

Any hesitation has disappeared between you both and you simply lose yourself to the delightful feeling of Jung Hoseok against your lips, against your body and how he feels under your fingertips. It’s only when he moves a little further, his tongue asking for entrance to fire up the kiss even more, that you suddenly come to your senses.

Pushing back from him, you stare with wide eyes and only just realise that the bells have stopped. A glance up shows the mistletoe is gone and you breathe a little heavily, not realising that you’d kissed him that forcefully until now. Hoseok looks just as out of breath with an odd look in his eyes that you can’t quite figure out.

Licking at your lips, and trying to ignore the knowledge that you could probably taste him right now, you run your hands down the front of your dress robes before giving him a slightly awkward smile. Coughing, you turn your eyes away from the strangely intense gaze he’s giving you.

“Erm, well it’s gone now. So...we’re not gonna be followed by mistletoe anymore,” Playing with your fingers, you wonder if you made a very bad decision tonight. “I, erm, I’m gonna go to bed now. It’s late and...well...yeah. Thank you, for walking me here and spending time with me, you know, dancing and all that. It was nice, I had a good time and thank you. Yeah, I already thanked you. Err...get to bed safely, okay? I mean, I…”

Hoseok reaches out and takes hold of your nervous hands. It makes you jump nervously, but he just gives a reassuring smile while rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Y/N...it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go to sleep and have good dreams.” There’s no annoyance in his voice, no anger or outrage that you’ve gone from initiating that kiss to acting very strange in only seconds.

“Yeah...I...you too. You too.” Frowning as you walked away from him, you wondered what in Merlin’s beard you’d just done.

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