#and he's delivered and defended with few questions

[iceemochaa]

WHO KNEW?

Remmick X Reader

A/N: Heyyyyyy, did somebody ask for Remmick Riding Fic??

I want to say thank you to my pookie @fuckoffbard for giving me this idea. She gave me her blessings to write something that was self indulgent and I wanted to deliver it with love. It took me a while to write and I’m so glad I kept picking at it until it all made sense on paper. Lemme go finish my other 5 fics now. Enjoy :)

Warning: MDNI, No use of name or Y/n, reader insert, Reader isnt described, Riding, fem Reader, AFAB, Creampie, slight breeding if you squint, slight blood play, kissing, kissing with blood, Remmick uses his claws maybe once or twice, cursing, dirty talk, P in V (lowkey what’s the difference), Remmick cries cause I love men being pathetic. Slight Cervix fucking if you squint. If you see any grammar or punctuation mistakes, no you didn’t :)

Word Count:3.6 k

The rapid beats of your heart echoes through your ears, your lips begging for you to stop chewing so harshly. It's only been a few short minutes since Remmick had worked his hands all over you— Freeing you of your clothing, tossing them carelessly in a pile somewhere. He whispered dirty things that he promises he’ll do to you— Soon, later, it didn't matter. All you knew was that Remmick was a man of his words.

He had you pressed against him, chest to chest so that he could breathe you in, Rub his scent right against yours. There's light red hickeys along your neck and arms— something Remmick did when he got all worked up, sucking your skin in his mouth to keep from inserting his fangs. Sometimes he went a little overboard, applying too much pressure until your skin underneath turned a deeper shade.

Currently you looked like a painter's canvas that was going through the rough draft stage; Hints of purple and shades of red painted all over your body. You didn't mind— You liked how considerate he was, never too hard but enough to make you feel, even if you did want him to go further.

For now, This was fine.

When he was done marking your body, soothing kisses placed above the marks— feeling almost satisfied, He tossed you on top of him and got real cozy under your weight. He used his slick tone and smooth voice to ask a simple question that left you paralyzed. A question that your brain has been mulling over and over. It wasn't anything bad— well, maybe to you but Remmick hasn't stopped smirking. He looked like a shark, all teeth and beady black eyes and you were the unfortunate fish that was soon to be his dinner.

“Why don't you Ride me darlin’? .” He said with such an enthusiastic drawl.

Since then you've been in a state of panic. Sure, you've done a lot of things with Remmick that you're too embarrassed to admit out loud but your body still reacts the same— it tingles and gets all warm and mushy when he has you pressed against him, with deep kisses lingering on your lip but this? This right here with your full weight sitting on top of his lap is too much.

“What if I hurt you?” you say in a small whisper but Remmick can hear you just fine. He simply looks at you with a hungry stare, He’s watching you, trying to gauge your reaction. Its the look he usually does when he devotes his full attention to you, shifting ever so slightly under.

“Hurt me? Darlin’ you could never.” he chuckles, tracing soothing circles on the side of your hip but then he quickly adds in, “Trust me, I've been through worse.”

“What's worse than this?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Remmick stops drawing circles to pinch the fat of your thigh lightly, “Besides burning in the sun?” he takes a few seconds to really search his brain for all the times he had to either catch prey or defend his life. Some of those moments really took a lot out of him, sometimes he couldn’t move for days but there was one thing that still gets his brain turning and his teeth aching with burning rage.

“...Maybe being hit with a guitar.”

A singular brow raises against your forehead. “Is that really true?”

“Now your tryin’ to change the topic.”

“Remmick, please, don't make me do this.”

“m’not making you do anythin’,” his says so innocently, making sure to sprinkle in an extra thick southern accent that gets your mind racing. “I'm just enjoying the view from down here, is all.” he says, “If you want to do something then your free to do as you please.”

”O-Oh okay…”

Sensing your hesitation, Remmick shifts your weight so he can sit up, his face only a few inches away. He plants a kiss right against your cheek, it's short and sweet, nothing but burning love flowing. He adds more, moving his lips lower until it reaches your collarbone then he stops to look at you once more through hooded eyes. “You don’t need to be nervous around me, sugar.” He says against your skin then shifts his head back up so his breath can fan against your face. “We've done far worse.” he says plain as day, the worse being even more freakier things he likes to suggest.

“I’ll gladly accept anything you do to me. You could never hurt me.”

“Are you sure?” You ask once more. Insecurity and fear was a glowing white beacon above your head. You believed Remmick, fully and completely, you just didn’t believe in yourself. What if you suck at it? What if he tells you that he changed his mind about this idea and shoves you off? What if he actually doesn’t like it and he fakes an orgasem? It sounds real childish but it could happen. You would rather indulge in those impossible sex positions he likes to purpose whenever he gets way too in his head.

You shake your head, hoping these feelings would somehow remove themselves from your brain. “You know what, maybe we can do this again later-“

Remmick clicks his tongue in slight annoyance, “Hold on now, Don’t give me that talk.” He chastises you but you can hear the softness in his tone. He wasn’t upset, not at all. An easy going smile, soothing hands, a soft hum. He wanted you to know that this was all fine.

Great even.

“Look, If you want,” he says in a sultry lilt, “I can do that thing with my tongue you like so much right after.”

Huh?

“You know, the one where I lick right up agaisnt-“

“Remmick, Shut up.” You sigh.

“Yes Ma’am.”

Well, here goes nothing.

To build some confidence you figured kissing would be a good start— It was easy and you didn’t have to think so hard about it. You wrap your arms around his neck, hands sliding into the back of his head to feel how soft his hair was. Remmick simply hums, leaning into the touch– almost like a cat. Slowly, You ghost your lips over his, your hand tugging his hair back just slightly so he was forced to look up at you. You can see something deep and primal in his eyes, like he was waiting for you to do this. Have him underneath you, have you take the lead.

You watch as Remmicks eyes glide across your face and slowly land on your mouth, his tongue peeking out to lick across his bottom lip like he was starving— He was always starving for you. You can tell by the way drool builds up in the corner of his mouth, his lips opening and closing like a fish. Like he needed air and the only air he wanted was you.

“Your drooling baby.” You note with a grin, observing the way it slowly drips down onto his chest. Remmick merely smirks, his hand coming up to cup your face in a soft embrace.

“That I am.” He says.

You press your lips right against his, You can hear Remmick breathing in your scent. His tongue pressing against your lips, asking for permission to taste you further. When you do let him in, he wastes no time to explore your mouth, his moan vibrating through you with sloppy sounds mixed with drool. Remmicks hand roams around your skin to keep him grounded. He was trying his best not to take control— have you take the lead but it was getting harder. You tasted so divine.

You glide both of your hands up his shoulders and push him down easily. He follows your lead without hesitation. Once you have him pressed against the bed, you finally break the kiss to plant light pecks on his cheek then slowly work your way towards his neck until you reach the shell of his ear. A low groan erupts from his throat when you suck his earlobe, your teeth working its way to tugging and nipping the shell of his ear soon after.

“Shit— where’d you learn that?” Remmick gasps softly.

“I have a good teacher.” You whisper in his ear, heat building on your cheeks, your nerves slowly turning into want and need— Enjoying the way the roles are slowly reversing. It’s usually him making you squirm and get all flushed but now he’s the one coming undone. You pull back to give him a once over, getting one more confirmation that this was 100% alright. Remmick simply nods his head.

“Well?” He says, “don’t stop now.”

You got this, you chant into your head over and over. He’s okay with it. It’s perfectly fine. Just move.

So you do.

You lift up to grab his weeping cock, feeling the way it burns in your hand. You heard a low groan shutter through the air— His chest starts to move quicker, his eyes growing wider, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft skin now. He didn't have to say anything but his body sure loves to talk— You can feel his muscle fidget under the palm of your hand that’s being pressed against his stomach, The growing anticipation too much to bear. You look towards him for any hints of discomfort, Maybe another confirmation that this was a totally bad idea but he's too busy watching the way his cock is getting closer and closer to where he really wants to be.

Okay, you got this.

He said it was fine, right? You take deep breaths, slowly guiding yourself down until the tip presses against your folds. You're already so wet, practically dripping due to Remmick playing with you earlier before this whole internal conflict started. He glides in so smoothly, entering into your warmth inch by inch. The pain of how big he is completely long gone and now masked with desire.

A small hiss slips from Remmicks mouth, his brows furrowing. “That’s it, nice and slow.” He says. It doesn’t take long for you to be fully seated on his lap now. His hard cock snuggled right inside, right where it belonged.

You stop suddenly, fear brewing once more. “I can’t- fuck, it’s too much,“ you choke out, Your nails digging into his chest to keep yourself together.

“Yes you can— your doing it already.” He coos, like he's trying to calm a frightened animal.

Remmick draws light feathered circles against your skin, his eyes fully scanning your face now. “Darlin, Your doin’ so well,” he says tilting his head back just slight. Still watching you, still trying to calm you down, Your comfort being too important to him.

“Whenever your ready. Move those pretty hips for me.” he sighs softly, “I promise im not goin’ anywhere.”

Here goes nothing.

You finally grow some confidence and lift up slightly, testing the waters, Feeling the way his hand clenches to keep a tight hold on Your hips. He doesn’t want to let you go, you don’t want him too. You come back down slowly, feeling the way your walls grow tighter when he enters once more.

This feels different.

Not in a bad way.

Exciting, new, different.

It feels a little overwhelming at first, trying to make sure you're not dropping your full weight on him all while he’s nuzzled inside your cunt but slowly the burning need grows. You do it again, lifting up to come back down on his length. A soft moan leaving your lips at the sensation. It’s usually Remmick who’s taking the reins; the one finding pleasure for you, Moving at his own accord when he wants. He'll find a rhythm that gets his stomach pooling with heat, a position that has your muscles burning, your mind ditzy.

Now?

You're the one holding the reins, Taking control. Before you know it, you're riding him in slow paces. Your hands pressed against his chest to support yourself— hips grinding down so you can find that slight, hot, burn that makes your stomach churn.

Remmick has his hands tight around your waist, his hold almost bruising. You both don’t say anything, nothing but the low grunts and moans echoing throughout the room. For the first time Remmick isn’t talking his head off— too lost in the pleasure, His eyes pinned to the constant exposure of his cock entering your cunt.

Perhaps you should do this more often, you think.

Soon enough the nervousness begins to wash away into pleasure and your moving faster. The sounds of skin on skin begin to mix into the air. You can feel warmth pooling down from your chest and slowly creeping its way to where you're connected to Remmick, like someone lit a fire under a stove. Your hips were being bruised by his hold, his fingers pressing into your skin. The more you ride him the more you start to take note that his claws are lightly scraping against your skin, leaving unruly red marks. They don’t dig in enough to bleed but you can feel them cementing themselves— A reminder that you made Remmick come undone.

“Sugar, m’close, so so close…” Remmick Whines under his breath, his voice dipping into a higher pitch. While his voice only stirs you on, You can’t help but stare at the way his fangs peeks out between his lips, how his tongue presses against them and then lulls out between them.

“Gonna- mhmm - I’m gonna, fuckkkk. Baby-“

“Not yet,” You groan, stopping to grind down hard, making sure he knows he won’t get a reward if he doesn’t listen. “Not until I say so.” You reprimand him.

Remmick throws his head back, a deep rumble echoing through his chest. You can feel the muscles under his skin tense, his hips practically jump in anticipation.

“m’sorry…” Remmick whines, “Please, I’ll be good.“ Pathetic cries begin pooling from his mouth, his head nodding away from the pure bliss he was experiencing.

“I don’t know…” you say offhandedly.

”Fuck, please, I’ll be good! Just— faster.” He begs, He looked good like this, all desperate and pathetic like. Almost like you’ve been withholding this from him for centuries. To think all it took was riding him like there was no tomorrow.

You watch as his eyes shut close, his breathing becoming unsteady. his fangs peeking out to brush against his bottom lip.

“You overwhelmed baby?”

Remmick bobs his head, sucks in a breath when you slam back down.

“Look at me.” You coo softly.

Remmicks glowing red eyes snap towards your own and what a glorious sight it was.

His ruby eyes half lidded but filled with adoration for you. His chest glistening with sweat and some other substance that you're sure is the copious amount of drool that’s been pooling from the corner of his mouth. How delicious he looked, hair tousled and chest heaving in rapid succession.

“Aren’t you a sight.” You chuckle.

“Please Darlin’ m’not gonna last any longer.”

How cute, you think, Remmick who’s always boasting and teasing you for crying and whining that it’s too much and yet he can’t handle it either.

“How about you beg me darlin. Tell me how much this pussy makes you cry.”

Remmicks eyes widen for a moment, His mouth gaping open like a fish. You swear you can hear the gears turning in his pretty little head. His cock throbs inside of you so good it makes your thighs clench around his waist.

“Your doing so…so, so—fuck, I can’t-“ He sobs in broken syllables.

You fingertips glides down the front of his chest, slowly working its way until it stops on his stomach and you press down slightly. “Yes you can, your almost there.”

“I— mhmm, baby, feels so good—“

“That’s it, keep going.”

”Your so perfect— fuck! made just f’me. Never want to let you go—“

You lean down so that your breath fans against his ear when you say, “You want to come inside?”

Remmicks entire body almost lifts off the bed.

“Yes! please!— wanna pump you full, gonna fucking— shit,” he sobs out loud, “Pussy feels so good, made just for me.”

You speed up once more, the sounds of skin connecting and moans mingled together brings hot fire straight into your core— you're getting so close too, his cocking hitting so deep inside it almost makes your eyes roll back. You figured this would be the time to push your limits— have him come undone with tears in his eyes instead. What a pretty sight it would be, a memory you won’t hesitate to bring again later when he says something smart about the roles reversing back.

“You can do better than that.” You say, testing the waters. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Remmick doesn’t hesitate to follow your orders, his hips lifting so he can meet your rhythm. His hands moving to squeeze your ass— his claws digging into your skin, holding purchase, using your body to bring him to a climax he desperately needs. You can tell he was close, his hips faltering and then picking up again. He’s practically pounding into you, a speed so inhuman that it makes your pussy numb with pleasure.

God, if he kept going like this— his cock pistoning into your cervix once more, you're going to be sore for days. Wobble on your legs like a newborn dear but you won’t complain. Not when the view of Remmick’s blissed out face will be imprinted in your memory.

“N-Now?” he whines, turning his head to suck a deep mark into your shoulders. His nose tucked into your neck once more. You can feel his fangs brush over your skin just slight, his legs tensing everytime they brush against your thighs and the best part of all? The delicious sound of Remmick pounding into you.

“Y-Yeah, fuck— do whatever you want baby. You earned it.”

Remmick thrusts up into your core a few more times, loud moans echos through the room and he cums right inside of you. Pumping you full, making sure he paints the inside of your cunt white. He doesn’t pull out, no, he wants to make sure your filled to the brim. Nothing but him occupying your cunt from the inside out.

“Ohhh—so tight, mhmmm” he cries into your skin, “I’m— fuckkk!” You can hear a slight hiss afterwards, his forehead pressing into your shoulders. Suddenly you feel warm liquid coat your chest, his mouth gliding along your shouder.

When you turn to look at him, you catch a glimpse of red slide down his chin. He was holding back from biting you— the moment too much for him to handle, his fangs practically pierced through his bottom lip.

“You okay?”

Remmick simply nods, too dazed to give a coherent response anyways. You can’t help but eye his lips once more, watch the way fresh blood pools against his skin. The sight of him all bloody and messy makes your pussy clench around him and he groans.

Without thinking, Your hand wraps around his chin to pull him close, your mind racing with nothing but the need to claim him once more. An idea crosses your mind, something you’ve always dreamed of doing and now was the perfect time to act on it. You squeeze his chin softly, leaning down to plant your lips against his, the muscle bloody and almost swollen but you didn’t care.

The taste of iron and drool only makes the craving grow.

Soon enough your teeth come down to replace the indent of his fangs, biting down hard— making sure another wound opens on his lips and then you just tug. Sucking in his bottom lip, the taste of his blood intoxicating.

You let it go, watch as his lip snaps back into place and Remmick almost howls— his hips jerking up into your cunt, his hands shooting to cup your face.

“Fuck, do it again.” He whines into your mouth.

You comply easily, the taste of him is too good to ignore. You press your teeth down In another untouched area and bite down again, until a fresh new wound cuts open his skin, the flow of blood and spit dribbles out from your kiss.

You swear you can hear Remmick purr against your hand.

When you both part your lips, A long drawn out moan leaves between you two— A spit line follows along until it disconnects when you lean back unto his lap again. You can feel the swell inside, his cocked nuzzled deep into your cervix, right where he belongs. When you finally feel like you’ve had your fill of everything Remmick gives you, his entire being devoted and at your mercy, you sit up slowly.

Remmick hums lowly, his breathing at its regular pace again. He looked fucked up but satisfied completely, a goofy grin laying on his face. He looks down to watch the aftermath, The tip of his cock popping out to reveal an overflow of his cum—it practically spills from your cunt, drooling right back on his pelvis.

“You did so well hun.” You say, teasing and soft, copying the warm southern tone he likes to soothe you with. Who knew you had it in you to reduce Remmick to a weeping mess?

Remmick smiles happily at you, sucking in his bottom lip to taste the spit that lingers from your heavy kiss. His hands moving up to massage your hips. He feels the indents in your skin, the pads of his fingers tracing the lines over and over.

You can get used to this, you think.

“Wanna go again?” you smile.

“Yes please.”

[luv-again]

*skipping like a lunatic around my room*

JUST figured out how i can incorporate another of amy’s idle dialogue into my cryptic castle ficccc <3

[axetivev]

— Summary: Being nothing other than a servant for the Ishikawa clan, even though they treated you horribly. You took care of their heirs. Even if the king of curses came. Ryomen Sukuna's first plan was to kill everyone in the clan... But he found a bride instead!

— Warnings/Tags: Smut + Fluff + Angst, Mentioned of Violence, Blood, Reader died (I'm sorry not sorry), Feminization, Sukuna has Two Dicks, Jealous Sukuna, Nipple Play, BDSM (Shibari), Double Penetration, Degradation (?). Belly Bulge, Self-insert Reader.

— Words: 3.5k

— A/N: tbh i haven't thought of this idea but shout out to @carnalcrows for asking this to be a fic. [here's the idea if you're curious -> 🎭] there's new shits i add because why not, this in semi-rushed. i'm not really in the mood to do anything these past few days... but i promised I'll deliver the Thief x King reader idea. welp, that's it from me. i hope you enjoyed this fic !!!

— Pairing: Heain Era!Ryomen Sukuna x Male!Reader

Being a servant for the Ishikawa clan sure is a work. How couldn't be?

You work for the rest of your days. Not to mentioned, the people of the clan were assholes, morons… abandoning everything and anyone if they had power, extremely thirst for power. You often avoid handling with the older folks, so you mainly dealing with the kids—heirs. You teach them humanity, something their supposed “guardian” never gave them.

Even if you can’t use curse techniques yourself, you teach them swordsmanship. Giving them attention that they barely obtained other then told that they were just a tool. It was nice to know that they would still had a child heart even you knew when they got older—they were no different with the elders. Until, that day.

In the middle of the night, after an exhausting day of serving the elderly. You were somehow able to take a break. Even though it was a quick nap and nothing much, but it’s better then never. You slowly rosed from your sheets. Right as you about to tidy up, you heard a scream—a scream of horror and terror.

You glanced at the door that showed a glimpse of what happened, you saw a figure—210 cm tall. His eyes were four, that information alone was enough to think of one thing; Ryomen Sukuna. The kids of Ishikawa once told you about him, a blood thirsty sorcerer and his description matched.

You don’t know what’s going on inside your head. You just wanted to make sure that the kids would be alright—you didn’t care if they became a good heir or not. You just wanted them to be… save. You rushed to where the kids’ room was, holding a katana in hand. Thankfully, the king of curses was in his way—just in the right amount of time when you finally made it to the door, defending the wood with your left hand.

Sukuna looked down at you, well. He was abit too tall for an average male, he saw your right hand gripping the black tsuka. Your face somehow didn’t even show fear when your hand clearly trembled, but he doesn’t knew why. Sukuna’s four eyes were look down at you, his upper right arm slowly gripped blade of your katana—lowering it.

Confusion was written all over your face—Sukuna bore into you, with his lower arms grabbing your waist as he then throw you over his shoulder. Walking away from the door, where you saw the kids looked relieved and terrified.

“You damn—!” “Shut it, brat.” Sukuna spat, as he walk with a… white haired human?

That shut you up quickly, but you squirm. Hitting the back of the Sorcerer’s back, even if didn’t do much. You look forward to look for the kids, the adult there—you can’t see it clearly. But they seemed to have disgust written on their face, it’s not because of Sukuna.

But… you?

A frown form on your face, is it because of you just, didn’t try to fight back? Or what it because you spend too much time with the kids and they prefer you over their parents? You honestly had many questions. But thank to Sukuna’s large hand spanking your ass when you were on the gate of the Ishikawa clan.

“Stop thinking about them.” Sukuna said, as if he read your mind, you froze as you felt his hand rough fingers trying to sooth your cheeks.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at your back, you turned your head in confusion by why did he stop moving. His lower arm grabbed your back knee, while the other on your back, trying to make you stable. Sukuna’s other lower hand was on your back, carrying you in bridal style, your arms were slowly and awkwardly wrapped around his neck.

“You’ll be my bride from now on.” Sukuna said, it’s not an ask. That’s a command.

The word “bride” was weird to you, but you were honestly too scared what would fate do to you if you didn’t agreed to what he said. So you nodded, hiding your face over the King of Curses' chest (what does this man even do to make it this big?). Sukuna, again. Look at you, making you squirm under his grasp. But he shrugged, continued to walk with the same white haired human.

Uraume.

That was their name. After your wedding with a few amounts of sorcerers which, you noted looked terrified most of the time during the ceremony. In your now home, for now, you spent most of your time with Uraume.

The minka you currently lived in is quite big, but average from an average sorcerer’s home. In the middle of the forest. But it had a small garden in the inside and in the back, it was close to a river with fishes swimming to the clear water, and some Baikamos, White lilies… it was surprising how clean the water was, Uraume would often company you when you admired the beauty of the waters in the river. They admitted; “He asked me to watch you.” Which you imagine it was Sukuna asking them to do so.

When Sukuna was home, Uraume will usually gone in the speed of light. You swore, they were beside you before the the king of curses came. Well, you don’t know if it’s normal or not. You already cleaned the house with Uraume, the sun was slowly loosed it’s shine as the moon rose. You saw him—he was in front of you, and weirdly enough. You didn’t find him scary in any sort of way. Just nervous.

“Is there… something wrong with me?” Sukuna heard your nervousness, he let out a sigh. Shaking your head, he saw you tilting your confusion. Until he finally grunted, his lower arm holding your wrist. “Let’s go out.”

His voice was sharp—but you somehow heard a softness in it, weird that someone like Ryomen Sukuna to be able to had a little softness, you sighed as you shook your head amusingly. Arguing with him seemed to lead to absolute nowhere. So, you followed along.

Your destination was lead to the same river behind the house. The flowers there were more then expected. Baikamo was blooming, white lilies looked like they’d shined the dark night. But your eyes landed on the Hasu flowers. You liked them, it’s white, pure and simply beautiful. Sukuna was watching you from a distant which you failed to realize because of your enthusiasm with flowers.

Sukuna’s four eyes looked at you, his arms crossed—the Hasu flowers and your face showed something that tugged some strings in his heart, in a good way.

The way you smiled kills him, the way you just happily looked at flowers like you never seen them in your existence, even if it's just a day after the wedding. He realizes something fast—instant. Ryomen Sukuna, a suppose special grade sorcerer, picked up a random man and decided to make him his bride, he thought you are the one falling for him hard. Instead, he was the one falling for you, harder.

“[Name]…” Sukuna muttered your name—as if he tested the waters, he saw you turning your head. Titling your head in confusion, but still, a smile played on your lips.

“…Yeah?” Fuck, your voice—sounds too good. If the Heain Era had something technological, he’d record that voice of yours and then listen to your voice and masturbate.

Sukuna stayed silent, his eyes flickered between the Hasu flowers and you. Pure, handsome, innocent… and it’s all for him. Forever.

Forever? You and me?

It had been weeks since that day, you now found Sukuna more often in the house. Therefore, making you cleaned the house while making sure it was nearly spotless. You knew Sukuna liked eating humans, once. You asked what he liked other then human’s flesh, which. His answer was straight to the point; “Figure it out yourself.”

It annoyed you with a burning passion. But you’d shrugged, leaving you asking for Uraume which they only said human flesh. Eventually, this leaving you by asking random sorcerers to hunt for random animals in the wild. Seeing their face turned to pale isn’t what you really thought of, but you often feel something—someone was watching you from a distance.

And after you asked a sorcerer to hunt form something—anything really. He never came back like how it suppose to be, it questioned you, but you can conclude that it may be caused of the harsh rain that suddenly came without a warning. Sitting on the engawa of the minka, the sound of thunder and rain echoed from the distance. The sky was covered by gray and waters already dropping from the gray clouds.

“[Name].” Uraume called, you watched as they stood in front of the door. “Sukuna is looking for you.”

You gave Uraume and polite nod as you walked your way to your room, well. Eyeballing that you thought Sukuna was in your room, and you were right. You saw a hand—Sukuna’s exact hand coming from the wooden door, you walked right in front of the door as that hand dragged you in—thr door behind you immediately closed shut without a way out.

Sukuna stood in front of you menacingly—you studied him, his very expression and movements. Sure, he looks bigger up close, but you never seen him so close before. The mouth on his stomach gritting it’s teeth, the urge to just punch his stomach was unreal—“Why did you ask those sorcerers to do those things?”

“…Those things?” You echoed, genuinely confused by Sukuna’s question. “Ah, asking those sorcerers to hunt for—”

Sukuna huffed, his expression hardened, his upper arm—its hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. “Can’t you asked for your husband’s help, at the very least!?” He snapped, his voice was loud enough to made you shut up. “I let you walk in this world still alive, I’m here now more often, can’t you just ask me for help? What? You scared?”

His face was actually showing anger. You? Ah, dumbfounded. Honestly, you motives of doing so is because of wanting to surprised Sukuna—not to get him angry, but you found out something new that’s a mixed of something laughable, stupid somewhat concerning.

The king of curses? Jealous of other sorcerers? You held back a laugh by bitting your lip, you raised your hand up to a fist. With a light force, you hit Sukuna’s head with your hand. Like those arcade games where you had to hit animals to get scores, Sukuna didn’t looked amused when you finally laughed your ass off. Crying over the fact he was jealous over humans—sorcerers he can beat without even doing much.

“[Name], it’s unacceptable,” Sukuna said firmly, his grip over your wrist tightened. “I hope it’s not considered rushing to do this.

“I hope it’s not considered rushing to do this.”

Sukuna’s voice—that exact words of his echoed in your head as you were tied by Uraume themselves. They didn’t looked surprised or in any some sort of embarrassment as red ropes circling your naked body. The texture was rough… it felt somewhat comfortable, but it didn’t really hurt your skin as much. Not for now.

When you came out from the next room, in ropes, your arms on your back, it felt fucking uncomfortable. But Uraume said earlier it was Sukuna who requested it and it’s his idea. Not theirs, your dick flopped down sadly. Sukuna, who was sitting comfortably on the bed, he uncrossed his upper arm, using his fingers. Sukuna called you forward with a simple command, you stood between the king of curses’ thighs. His fucking huge thighs.

Sukuna didn’t looked up, his fingers found their to your bare chest he soon enough called tits. He didn’t even hesitate to pulled the bud, making you gasp out of Sukuna’s boldness. His fingers then circled your areola, before gently switching your nipples.

“You humans are sensitive when it comes to this,” Sukuna spat out, he then leaned forward, his teeth catching your already hard buds. “It’s embarrassing.”

His tongue went all in to your left nipple, his slimy tongue was circling your nipple again… rougher. Sukuna left a bite over your bud, your whimpers was music to his ears. He seems to be neutral about it, but deep down. He knew he was a stupid freak under the title “King of Curses”.

His lower hand mover their way down—rubbing your ass, you looked back to then flinched feeling Sukuna’s thumb rubbing your entrance, how big was that? You don’t know neither wanting to know. Your hands grabbed his shoulder when Sukuna inserted his middle finger—soon his index. It hurts if you can be honest, does sex feel like this? Really you don’t now, but it slightly feel good. That’s a plus, right?

Two fingers fucking you wide—Sukuna’s tongue moved to your other nipple. Both sensation made your dick erect and legs trembling. Hot breaths escaped your lips that reached to Sukuna’s ears, he then brushed over your prostate which let out a loud gasp out of you, he pulled his fingers out, you whined by the lost. You finally looked back at Sukuna who didn’t seemed to look impress at your expression; a whiny bitch who just begged to be breed.

Sukuna flicked his tongue as he made you sat in his thighs, he opened up a bottle and poured something similar to a voice like oil, you about to turned your head but Sukuna smashed your face against his chest. You felt something rubbing against your hole before something huge was slammed inside of you.

Guess Sukuna’s fingers did something…

Your eyes were watery—he didn’t even moved. Not yet, but you felt so full. Sukuna ignored your whines, he simply slammed his hips up, a whimper escaped your throat. Soon, that one slam turned into many thrusted. Your hands clawed his back, Sukuna’s lower arms captured your waist. While his upper hand kept playing with your red erect nipples.

“What? Does it hurt?” Sukuna faked a cooed, your hole tightened. He laughed at your pathetic state. “It’s just one cock. You haven’t feel both of them.”

You grit your teeth, Sukuna entered his thumb, forcefully letting his second cock in. But he’s kind enough to stop his pace and letting you adjust. Yeah, you’re too full for this. One was making you full, but both? Yeah…

Sukuna gripped your waist—right as he tried to thrust his hips, cum filled your tight puffy hole. He couldn’t like, it caught him off guard to reached his climax early, but he’ll definitely deny that it’s because your hole feel good. Sukuna looked down to your stomach, the visible bulge amused him. The fact that you can still take both of his dicks cumming inside of you sure made him interested.

He studied your expression—your fucked up face, his hand gently touching the tip of your cock, making pre-cums. Sukuna dragged his upper right hand, gently taking your own hand to intertwined your fingers together, like blood and heart. Unable to be separated. Sukuna didn’t say much, but he simply leaving kisses all over your jaw as he now gently thrust his hips upwards.

He isn’t satisfied… Fuck. Poor hole.

Now Sukuna insisted of brining you everywhere…

Even if Sukuna met other sorcerers, he’ll always bring you. Leaving you often helping him while Sukuna himself tried to not go insane when you’re next to him, neither him trying to kill the other sorcerers who linger their gaze at you. Well, that’s most on your part to hold him back to do so.

And you, being his wife—husband. Usually got your payment too! Eating… asking Sukuna to do the work instead, and most importantly, the river. Sukuna was now more often beside you as you admire the waters, it’s honestly a reason for him to loved everything about you, worship you, loving you, really. Just about everything. Thanks to that too, he now barely killed clans for food, And till now. You questioned yourself neither it was a bad thing or good thing.

But everything doesn’t last forever. That, was what Sukuna always forget to remember.

Mornings was always filled by you and Sukuna walking together for a morning walk, it was calming. The birds are singing and the air was fresh, everything was perfect. Since, today. Sukuna doesn’t had anything busy going on, spending time with his husband sounds like a good idea. Isn’t it? Walking together inside of a forest side by side, your face was the only thing that kept Sukuna entertained.

“Sukuna,” the name owner turned his head directly at you. The way his name runs on your lips nearly made his heart stopped. You then pointed at a bird that was singing happily. “It looked pretty, don’t you think?”

Sukuna stared at the bird that’s in front of his very own eyes. He’d just kill the poor fellow on the spot, but the way you looked at it with those lively eyes, he nodded. “Indeed…”

“Can we… have it?” You looked at him with a grin on your lips. “Please~?”

He didn’t seemed to be amused, rather. Sukuna pinched your cheek. “[Name], there’s already many wild creatures at home.”

His answer isn’t enough, you grabbed his palm. With such innocent and… sex eyes, you begged Sukuna. It was a silent beg which usually doesn’t work, but seems like he can’t take it anymore. Sukuna rubbed his face, looking at you as a sigh of defeat escaped from his lips. Giving you an approving nod, your eyes lit up as you carelessly run to the tree where the bird still hummed.

Sukuna kept his eyes on you from a distance, as the bird laid at your finger, you brought it close to your cheek, it happily snuggled at your cheek. The bird’s ear coverts was rubbing against your cheek, it trickled but doesn’t really hurt. You looked at Sukuna, the distance isn’t far, just a few steps and he’ll able to carry you. But what he didn’t calculate is a blade coming at you with the speed of light.

It was fast—and definitely uncalled for. A blade—a katana strike perfectly through your heart, it’s almost impossible but there it was. It hurts like wild. Not to mentioned that there’s a weird feeling of something was blooming inside of you like a flower during spring, blood slowly came from your mouth like a vampire eating their first target. But they aren’t eating their target, you were the target.

“Fuck… ‘kuna—” you coughed—more blood came out, your eyes widened as you used your palm to hold the blood—the crimson from your insides. Sukuna was staring down at your, he was in front of you. You forced yourself to look up, why does he looked… blurry?

“Suku—” “Keep that mouth shut.” Sukuna’s voice was firm, you could hear the urgency within in. You wanted to tell him—wanted to cry and ask why does he look so blurry… until then, you saw black.

Black… everything was gone insight. Sukuna, who was blindingly looked around for some sort of clue, saw you on the ground—even more blood now coming from your mouth which you can’t even feel. Sukuna… lost you? He couldn’t be… right? Why… does it hurt? His heart arched with someone he can’t explain. Sukuna kneed down, using his hand to moved your body as if he was trying to see if a cat died nor not.

Fuck, he may lost you now.

Sukuna looked down at your corpse. He lost everything, his favorite smile, what makes him genuinely happy, what filled the empty useless gaps… now it’s all gone with a blink. The king of curses lost someone special to him…

Special?

He threw the katana that pearced your heart, his arms wrapped around your body, making sure you were in a comfortable position even if you can’t feel it anymore. Your head resting against his chest, Sukuna carried you like the day where you two meet. He doesn’t know what to do now, but he just walk to the now gloomy forest until he reached where… ah you know it.

The river looks more… gloomy now, everything felt empty, at least. That’s what Sukuna saw, he sat down—his hand gently touching your paled mouth, where the blood already tried out. His eyes met with the white hasu that now resembles you even more. Sukuna doesn’t know neither to be happy or sad about it, he reached out to the clear mineral to wiped the blood from your lips.

He stared at you, and for a moment. He realizes something. He loved you. He fucking loved you so much.

Sukuna knew he loved you, but he never expected to feel such lost. A human—something that’s not eternal. But here he was, grieving to his husband, his forever love life. Since you weren’t here anymore… killing that piece of shit who killed you wouldn’t end with a scolding.

“I hope we can meet again, someday [Name].”

last minute note; i legit uploaded this in my office... welp. thief oc coming up ! be a lil patient here :). curious, since both @carnalcrows and @sooniebby did a face claim for their ocs... are you guys interested for me to do it next?

[scottiexmariee]

omg ive been highly enjoying ur fics and hcs!!! i think u wrote their characters very spot on 🥺 the jail one got me thinking... can i request the lads boys reacting to the reader getting in trouble after punching someone. bc someone talked shit about the boys and wanted to defend their honor or smth lmfao ty!!! 💕

omg anon lemme kiss u on the forehead 

I almost did a backflip when I read this, I was so happy to write it. This one took a bit longer to write so I do apologize, but I was reeeeally on a mission to deliver some good plot here

Some are a bit longer (coughSyluscough) but I really hope you enjoy <3

Defending Their Honor

Pairings: Xavier x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Sylus x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k (oops)

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Lore references. Reader throwing hands. FEELINGS. Soft Sylus. -Scottie is allergic to happiness.

Masterlist

Note: I got possessed when I wrote Sylus' and probably should have made him his own fic. I am not sorry. It is longer than the others. I am bashing my head against the keyboard. Please forgive me.

☆ “While I’m honored, you didn’t have to do that on my behalf,”

☆ ^ Giggling and kicking his feet on the inside though

☆ He’d also return the favor with no hesitation if the situation was ever reversed

☆ ^ You will NOT diss his lady in his presence

☆ Y’all are def cuddling for the rest of the night as soon as you get home

Xavier really needed to learn to stop taking his eyes off of you when the two of you were out in public. 

The two of you had gone on a fun little outing to Linkon’s version of a pop-up carnival. There were games, food vendors, live music, and tons of people. He knew how badly you’d wanted to go, so of course you nearly jumped right into his arms when he showed up at your apartment after lunch and told you to get ready.

So far, it had been good. The two of you had played a couple games, won some prizes, even took chances with a few questionable rides. You had walked around, hand in hand, enjoying each other’s presence and making new memories together.

It had been seconds. Seconds. You were both, unsurprisingly, hungry after walking around for a few hours. Xavier, being the knight in shining armor that he is, had walked up to one of the nearby food vendors to grab a snack for the two of you, innocently leaving you near a blue park bench. When he finished, you had disappeared. 

He stared at the now empty park bench, snacks in hand, completely baffled. He did a quick scan of the area, only to see a bunch of people he didn’t know, and someone being escorted to the exit by two security officers.

But that person almost looked like they were wearing the same outfit as you.

Xavier squinted. Surely not, right?

He caught up quickly, nearly stumbling when his suspicions were confirmed. That was absolutely you being dragged to the front of the park.

He lagged behind quietly, saying nothing, but already accepting the fact that your fun carnival date was apparently over. 

You were given a verbal warning and kicked out of the park, being told not to come back for the remainder of this year’s visit. If you came back, it would be trespassing.

You were getting ready to text Xavier when you realized he was right in front of you, nibbling on some type of skewer he’d gotten from the vendor. “Sooo…” He began, eyeing you curiously.

“I may or may not have slapped someone,”

His eyes immediately widened, his mind running through every possible scenario. 

“What happened? Did someone touch you?” He reached out and grabbed your wrist, eyes scanning every inch of exposed skin for injuries. 

“No! No, it’s….nothing like that,” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Then….?”

Suddenly, you were a bit embarrassed. It had been so stupid. How was he even going to react to this?

When Xavier had left you by the bench, a man that looked to be around your age approached and asked for your number.

“I know you just saw me with someone.”

“So?”

“Not interested,”

“Why? Because of that loser? You could do better.”

That was it. That was the reason you’d backhanded the disrespect right out of that man’s bloodline. 

Xavier was….so many things. Incredibly kind, thoughtful, and just so deliciously him. You adored him the same way he adored you, and had him on a pedestal that no one could even close to touching. You could do better? Not possible. There was not a soul in this galaxy that was better than Xavier. At least, not to you.

Hearing someone speak lowly of him when you truthfully couldn’t even articulate how incredible he was? Yeah, instant slap. 

You kept your explanation short. “Some guy called you a loser,” You said, rubbing your arm sheepishly. 

Xavier almost giggled. 

“So….you slapped him?” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, the reality of how out-of-pocket the whole thing was finally setting in.

Surprisingly, Xavier laughed. It was soft, filled with fondness and mirth. He pulled you into a loving embrace, placing a soft kiss on the top of your forehead. He'd be lying to the both of you if he said he wouldn't do something similar.

“I’m honored,” He began, his voice muffled by your hair, “but you don’t have to slap people on my behalf,”

“I’ll always defend you, whether you’re in the room or not,” You responded, your tone firm and completely serious. 

Xavier stood there for a moment, arms wrapped around you still, feeling like the luckiest guy alive. The thought of you backhanding someone for calling him something as simple as a loser was almost hysterical, yet it filled him with a warmth he couldn’t explain. You were really something else. 

After a moment, he pulled back, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Let’s go. There’s plenty of time left for us to turn this night around,”

❅ okay listen I love Zayne

❅ but he's kinda emotionally constipated sometimes (at least on the OUTSIDE)

❅ the logical side of him wants to scold you and tell you that this wasn't necessary

❅ but the emotional side, the side that is harder for him to articulate, is lowkey flattered that you'd go that far to defend his name

Zayne slowly paced back and forth in the lobby of the city’s police station, the only sounds in the room being the tap of his shoes on the linoleum floor and the ticking of a clock on the wall. He glanced toward the clock. It had been 20 minutes since he’d come to retrieve you, and he was growing impatient. 

The two of you were in another city for an awards banquet. You’d come along simply to support Zayne, your absolute favorite person in existence (who just so happened to be an incredible Doctor that was receiving multiple awards for his work).

Imagine Zayne’s surprise when the banquet ended and he couldn’t find you anywhere. It was extremely out of character for you to disappear when it came to things like this, especially while you were in an unfamiliar place. This wasn’t Linkon. You wouldn’t have simply left without so much as a ‘congratulations’, not to mention that Zayne had been your ride here. 

By the third time your phone had gone to voicemail, Zayne was nervous. That was when he started asking around. He’d pulled up a photo of you, showing it to various employees and asking if anyone had happened to see you leave. 

It was a security guard that told him you’d been arrested.

He left immediately, having the directions already pulled up before he made it out to the car. 

Now, he paced, an amalgamation of concern, confusion, and stress. 

A buzzing sound emanated from somewhere down the hall, and Zayne’s head whipped toward the sound to see you being led out by an officer, still wearing the outfit that matched his tie color. 

The red knuckles weren’t easy to miss. 

While he did still open the car door for you, he chose a tactical silence for the duration of the car ride. There wouldn’t be a single word spoken until you were back in the hotel room. This was a calculated method by Zayne. He knew you’d be absolutely squirming by the time you guys made it back, and that was exactly what he wanted. 

The door to your shared room clicked shut behind Zayne, who’d entered behind you. He leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. He raised an expectant eyebrow at you, his eye flitting between your flustered face and reddened knuckles on your dominant hand. 

It was hard to take him seriously when he looked that handsome in a tux.

“I…may have overreacted,” You finally said, your voice coming out timid. 

“Can you go anywhere without picking a fight?” He responded, his tone exasperated. 

You swallowed. 

“I can…”

Zayne took a steadying breath. He moved from the door and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what happened,”

You had been out looking at all of the posters on the wall, reading the lists of different accomplishments and awards printed under each attendee, waiting for the banquet to end. Zayne had already received his awards, but was still backstage and not allowed to leave. Some of the audience, including you, had stepped out of the auditorium throughout the banquet. You had originally just wanted some air. The auditorium had been stuffy, and the fancy outfit you had on was not helping. 

While you were out admiring the different posters, you heard a woman making some pretty rude comments about the poster she and her friends were in front of. At first, you just scoffed. You couldn’t imagine being so bitter. Was it so hard to be supportive of others, even if they weren’t the one you came for?

And then, you realized which poster she was standing in front of. 

Zayne.

Imagine this: You happen to be involved with an incredibly smart, talented, and stunning man that just so happens to be a Chief Cardiac Surgeon at only 27 years old. The same man that has made evolutionary discoveries and progress in treating cardiac abnormalities. The same man that you absolutely adored, and wanted nothing but the absolute best for. All of this is great, right? Now imagine hearing someone say something completely horrible about him right in front of you.

At first, the confrontation had started off as just a scolding. You’d told the woman that it wasn’t right to say horrible things about the attendees. They all did such incredible things that they were receiving awards for, after all. This was not the place for such behavior. 

And then, she just….kept going. 

Before long, you’d quickly ended the conversation with an abrupt bitch-slap. Security had already been approaching when your hand connected with her face. You weren’t going to tell Zayne this, but you’d actually gotten tackled. 

You gave Zayne the shortened version of the story, leaving out all of the gushing. 

Initially, he was quiet again as he tried to process what you’d just told him. 

Lady. Talking bad. Zayne. Slap.

For a moment, he couldn’t understand why you’d even resort to that. But when he looked at you, looking at him with eyes full of love and respect, he softened a little. While he didn’t necessarily agree with your methods, who was he to dictate how a person should react to any scenario?

He patted the spot next to him, still trying to form an appropriate response. You sat willingly, leaning into his side. He looped an arm around your waist. 

You sat in silence for a few minutes longer before he finally spoke. 

“The logical part of me should scold you, (Y/N). That was a bit overboard,” 

You looked up at him. His words implied that the logical part of him wasn’t the one that was winning whatever internal battle he had going on. “And what does the other part of you think?”

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. “Truthfully?”

You nodded, nearly melting at the sudden affection. His lips showed the faintest hint of a smile. “Truthfully, I’m flattered,”

❀yk how Raf blushes and pouts when you do the Heartbeat interaction??

❀ yeahhhh

❀ but also.....feelings

When Rafayel learned you’d been thrown out of his newest exhibition, he was initially pretty offended. He didn’t even want to be there to begin with. You were the only reason he’d forced himself to come, though he’d never admit it out loud. He had an arsenal of complaints ready to fire off the second he met you outside, after he reasoned with security, of course. 

It was Thomas who had weaved through the crowd, placed an urgent hand on Rafayel’s shoulder, and leaned close to speak for only the artist’s ears: “Security just dragged (Y/N) out of here. She hit someone,” 

The confrontation had luckily gone mostly unnoticed. It happened quick, and security had whisked you out. You’d gone willingly, and the man you’d struck no longer felt like sticking around either. 

Somewhere during the short walk from the back of the building to the front doors, your reason for lashing out had gotten lost in translation. Rafayel was under the impression that you’d thrown hands because someone had dissed his art. 

That, however, was an unfortunate misunderstanding. 

It wasn’t his art that the man had described as ‘worthless.’ It was Rafayel. 

Rafayel had smooth-talked security into letting you come back inside, with the condition that you would not be a problem for the remainder of the night. 

Rafayel had been flattered, but definitely thought you’d overreacted. 

“Not everyone can say they have a bodyguard this protective over art,” He teased, casting an amused glance in your direction. “Think we can make it through the rest of today without another attack?” 

You’d rolled your eyes, still a bit peeved. Who the hell comes to an exhibit specifically to dog the artist, anyway? “That’s not even what happened,” You grumbled. 

“People critique art all the tiiime. That doesn’t mean they should get assaulted over it,” 

“It’s different,” 

“I’m just saying. I’ve never punched anyone at an art gallery. Maybe you’re taking the Bodyguard title too seriously,” 

“Rafayel. You were the art,” 

Rafayel came to an abrupt stop, the air seemingly vanishing from his lungs. He’d heard you. He’d definitely heard you. His brain, however, was doing backflips, struggling to process your last sentence. 

You were the art. 

The gears clicked into place, his cheeks burning hotter and hotter with each passing second. In all honesty, he was conflicted. He was torn between the all-encompassing warmth, the feeling of being appreciated and thought so highly of that you would deck someone in the face purely for speaking ill on his name. The other half of him felt almost bitter. 

You were that same silly girl with a bad memory. And yet, here you were, fighting someone off of instinct when they said something nasty about him. 

You could do that, yet there was so much you couldn’t remember.

He was in a war with his thoughts and emotions, and unbeknownst to you, you were once again the cause. 

He finally collected himself, masking the emotional roller coaster he’d just been on with a chuckle. He patted the top of your head, settling on a teasing comment rather than risking opening the floodgates. 

“You’re so weird, Miss Bodyguard,” 

Rafayel would end up finding you in every lifetime, over and over again, no matter the cost. He’d remember every promise, every touch, every stolen moment. Yet, in every single timeline, you always found a way to make his head spin and his heart do cartwheels in his chest. 

This would forever stick out as one of those moments.  

⟡ Soft Sylus.

⟡ Soft Sylus.

⟡ SOFT SYLUS.

Sylus had invited you to tag along on yet another negotiation. He’d claimed he just liked having you at his side, but he truthfully respected your input more than he’d admit out loud. He’d often bring you along under the guise of keeping him company, but would subtly pay attention to your body language and facial expressions. If you weren’t going to bite, neither was he. 

After the first negotiation you attended, you as Sylus’ +1 became a much more frequent occurrence. As long as he was in the room, your safety was guaranteed. Not to mention how a lot of potential deals went off a little smoother when you were in the room to ease the tension. 

Today, the two of you were headed to a hotel a few cities away to meet with a man named Michael. You didn’t have many details about the deal, but you had the basics. If there was anything you needed to know, Sylus would tell you. 

It had taken you exactly 6 seconds after entering the room to decide that you did not like Michael. There was just something about him that had already gotten on your nerves. The arrogance? The ‘up-to-no-good’ vibe he absolutely reeked of?  The way he looked at the two of you like you were nothing more than pests the moment you walked in? 

While it was just you and Sylus on your side of the bargain, Michael had 6 armed guards scattered through the room, which added to your irritation. Michael was clearly a man that thrived off intimidation, yet was too cowardly to have an even playing field. 

Sylus never lost his nonchalance. He strode in like he had nothing to lose, suave and unbothered. He kept a hand pressed lightly against the small of your back as he guided you to a seat, a silent reassurance that everything would be fine.

The meeting had began, but not without Sylus catching how your mood had soured considerably within the first 10 minutes. 

The more Michael talked, the shadier the whole ordeal seemed. He was boasting about some modified protocore that was the ‘best on the market,’ and trying to goad Sylus into purchasing it. 

Sylus wasn’t dumb by any means. But Sylus was also a man that would humor someone for his own entertainment. “Show it to me,” He said, his tone even.

One of the guards gestured for Sylus to follow, and he immediately turned to you, waiting for you to come as well. Instead, you shook your head. You didn’t want to risk being ambushed when you came back if both of you left. Sylus trusted your judgment, knowing that he would be gone for less than 5 minutes. With a quiet “Behave,” cast in your direction, he disappeared with the guard. 

The second the door shut behind him, Michael turned to one of his guards and said something you probably weren’t supposed to hear.  “I’m going to walk that bastard like a dog, just watch.” 

Oh? 

In hindsight, it would have been better to keep your mouth shut. All you had to do was give Sylus a signal when he returned, and he would call this off with no hesitation. Your opinion mattered, after all. He didn’t just bring you to these meetings to serve as eye candy. Knowing this, you should have just brushed Michael’s comment off. However, it had gotten under your skin in a way you couldn’t shake off. The words were leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

“I’d like to see you try,” 

Michael, and all 5 of his remaining guards, immediately looked at you as if locking onto a target. The tension in the room intensified considerably.

Michael scoffed, looking at you as if you were a bug he’d stepped on. You glanced toward the door Sylus had stepped out of moments before, half expecting him to be standing there with an amused smirk on his face. He wasn’t, though.

Michael was on his feet, taking slow steps toward the chair you were sitting in. Despite the shaking in your fingers, you stayed put. “You must think so highly of him,” He drawled, zeroing in on you. “I didn’t know a man like that could catch the attention of a pretty thing like you,”

You didn’t know why, but your anger was rising with each passing second. The implication of his words was clear, but you wanted to hear him say it. It was obvious that he thought of himself higher than Sylus, and clearly didn’t have many polite thoughts about him. You and Sylus weren’t necessarily a… ‘thing,’ per se. Not yet, anyway.  So why did this piss you off so badly?

“A man like what?” You challenged, staring up at Michael. In your lap, your hands, that had been neatly folded, were slowly clenching into fists.

Michael's mouth twisted into a wolfish, arrogant grin. “I’d say he takes up more space than he’s worth. Cocky, foolish, insufferable–”

Your fist had connected with his jaw before he could get another word out, sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his jaw as he tried to regain his footing. 

It would take you about a week to fully process how the next 15 seconds had gone.

At first, the silence was so intense that you could audibly hear the rapid beat of your own heart.

Then, guns were raised and pointed directly at you. 5 from the guards, all at separate angles, and one directly in front of you from Michael himself. 

Next, gunfire. A lot of gunfire. Multiple shots ringing out from 6 different directions. 

You weren’t exactly sure when Sylus had entered, but he apparently had the timing of a God. You’d been whisked out of harm's way, somehow completely uninjured. You realized later that he likely used his evol somewhere in the mix.

Once safely away from the hotel, Sylus turned to face you, lips set in a thin line but his expression otherwise neutral. He studied you for a long moment. 

“That went well,” He said, his tone lacking any amusement. “Should I not trust you enough to leave you unattended for two minutes?”

You folded your arms over your chest. You didn’t trust the sound of your voice yet. You knew you owed him an explanation, but the adrenaline was still too high and you were still too angry to speak.

Sylus checked you for any injuries and then, to your surprise, grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.  

“You need to be more careful who you pick fights with,” He warned. His tone was firm, but not unkind. He knew you were more than capable of handling yourself. It was one of the things he appreciated about you. However, the fight today had left a bitter taste in his mouth. This was the first time he hadn’t been in the room the entire time. It could have been a lot worse, and you weren’t bulletproof. This was the first time he’d left you alone for more than 30 seconds, and it had ended with you in a shootout. 

“Maybe he shouldn’t have been talking shit about you the second you walked away,” You retorted, your voice coming out bitter. “Right in front of me. It was just…disrespectful.”

Sylus, who had assumed Michael had started it on his own, was stunned. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t have any quips or sarcastic comments to make. That was what had caused the fight? You, the same person that used to look at him with so much distrust and caution, had thrown yourself into a fight to defend his name while he wasn’t in the room. 

Sylus was silent for a moment, his eyes combing your face for any hint of deception. When your words finally sank in, he nearly melted on the spot. The adoration he’d already felt was intensified. The warmth he felt in his chest was almost too much, and he wasn’t sure whether he should scold you or kiss you. 

Instead, he gently tugged you against his chest, choosing to simply hold you for a moment. It felt like the only correct option. His chin rested against the top of your head, one arm looped around your back as the other cradled your head. He was absolutely flattered, and outrageously smitten.

Yeah, he had it bad. 

“Just when I think I have you figured out, you go and do something else that surprises me,” He murmured fondly, rubbing small circles into your back. You were an endless mystery to him. But as he stood there, holding you against him, he knew he’d happily spend the rest of his life trying to figure you out. 

Note: 1.4k words just for Sylus I am SO SORRY but I needed this man getting all soft with this prompt slkdhjsalkhd 

[sailornymph]

Hey! Can you please do a relationship dynamics with Sasuke when they were genin ? Like wether they were on the same team or not and how they act together Infront and off front of people, something like that. You write what you want, because I don't really have a preference for something , I'm just not good at describing what I want 🥹

imperfect for you; sasuke uchiha

synopsis — genin!sasuke x genin!reader general hcs

a/n — a big thank you for 200+ followers in just a month. i am super grateful and excited for what the future brings!! and your description was perfect anon, thank you :)

— you never intended on getting the attention of sasuke uchiha, originally, only trying to prove a point to your parents. you may have been a rainbow baby, but you were far from weak and did not need their constant overbearing protection

— you weren’t the quickest fighter, but you relied heavily on strategy and it carried you thus far, finally taking the genin exams. embarrassingly pushing your mother, as she hugged you, telling you that you didn't have to do this

— passing your exam, you receive the second highest score, only missing a question or two more than sasuke

— you are placed on team 8, alongside kiba, hinata, and shino. while there were talks of you being placed on team 7, many of the sensei disagreed pointing out that while you had the second-highest score, you didn't have any special qualities

— while you are aware of the uchiha’s presence, you aren't initially attracted to him. there are too many girls in the class who already like him, and he is very rude, so why waste your time?

— you have your first encounter, when you cause a scene, arguing with neji. it was no secret that he was mean to hinata, but no one seemed to ever stand up to him

— you knew he was stronger, but you still stood your ground, defending your friend. you couldn’t even remember what happened. your last memory conscious was seeing kakashi and guy sensei standing in front of neji…and sasuke, before blacking out

— waking up in the hospital, with a broken arm and a blackened eye, you are immediately bombarded by your worried parents, scolding you, as they pepper your face with kisses. was this not enough proof that the shinobi life was not meant for you? not exactly. they stick around until you convince them that you are fine and they can go back to working

— as they are leaving, kurenai sensei enters along with your teammates, with gifts and hugs, glad that you are okay. despite having to scold you, for fighting, she is also proud of you, for standing up for what thought was right. spending time with them, hinata shares a bit of insight from the fight

— before neji could deliver the final blow, the uchiha had intervened. no one even knew he was watching, the two of them shared words no one could hear, but from the look of it…sasuke and neji were about to fight next until their sensei’s showed up stopping it

— with a stunned look on your face, you accepted their hug as they left, allowing a few other friends to visit. by the afternoon, you could only imagine your expression, when there was a soft knock before sasuke entered

“you’re okay,” he said, his usual stoic expression in place.

“i am, i heard about what you did, thank you,” you smiled, as he let go of the door, allowing it to shut behind himself.

“tch, why would you think you of all people could fight neji?” he asked you, frowning, catching you off guard.

“the way he treats my friend is unacceptable, because of something she had no control over-

“so you pick a fight with a hyuga, you’re smarter than that, y/n,” he glared.

staring perplexed by his choice of words, you furrowed your eyebrows. sure, you had the second-highest scores, but that could have easily been a matter of luck. however, you were never around sasuke, you weren't even friends with sakura or naruto, so how would he have known if you were smarter than picking a fight?

“i’ve seen you training until the sun is setting, you want to be stronger, you aren't annoying like the girls in our class. all they care about is getting my attention, yet, you never spared me a glance”

“what is your point?”

“you're smart and i find you…interesting,” he found himself struggling to form his thoughts into words, a dark pink hue appearing on his cheeks.

“oh? sasuke, you are interesting to me too, you're very cool and i’m sure you will be an amazing shinobi,” you smiled, making him shift his eyes.

“would you like to have some food? everyone has brought me so much, i don't want it to go to waste,” you offered, hoping to lighten the tension.

“what do you have?”

“chocolates, mochi, onigiri, and soup”

“just a bit, i don't care for sweets,” he mumbled, joining you.

— the cycle continued and you don’t think too much of it. sasuke visited you every evening, sometimes he would talk (it is usually you talking and he had short responses) but he mostly listened, only leaving once you started yawning too much, or the nurse told him he had to go

— finally the day came that you could leave, and struggling to pack your things, your arm in the sling, you were unsurprised by sasuke picking up your bag. following close behind you, you thanked him, leading him to your house

— as you arrive, before you can wish him farewell, your parents open the door. staring at sasuke, they immediately began to thank him, inviting him inside for dinner. he wanted to say no thank you, but your mother was already tugging him into your home, saying he could wait with you until dinner was ready

— apologetically leading him to your room, it was awkward sitting next to each other. your eyes glued to the floor, as he stared at all of the pictures you had on your wall. from trips with your parents, pictures with your teammates, or other friends who weren’t in your class

— your father finally entered the room, letting you both know that dinner was ready. you proceed to endure the most insufferable dinner. your parents continually praising sasuke, how he practically saved you, and how he should talk you out of becoming a shinobi, you should focus on taking over the family business, etc

— after it was over, you quickly walked sasuke out, apologizing once again for your embarrassing parents. he tells you there is no need to apologize, but you can see on his face, he is holding something back

“what is it? i know my parents can be annoying, but you're so red in the face,” you laughed, walking beside him.

“no, they're not that bad, naruto is worse,” he said, making you laugh.

“i guess, he seems cool enough to me, so what is it?”

“would you like to get ramen with me, tomorrow?”

“sure, is that all?”

“yes, good night,” he said, turning to walk away.

“good night,” you waved, going back to your house, stopping as you noticed your parent's eavesdropping.

“can i help you?”

“did sasuke ask you to go somewhere with you?”

“yes, we’re getting ramen tomorrow,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

“our baby is going on her first date,” your dad squealed like a schoolgirl.

“date?”

“honey, you didn't see the way he kept looking at you?”

“no, i’m going to bed,” you said, weirded out by them.

— all night you found yourself thinking about your parent's words. sasuke was being nice, even if he wasn't showing it on his face. did he like you? could you even like him back? you would have too much competition

— forcing yourself to go to sleep, you would let it go, until tomorrow and take things one thing at a time. from the time that you woke up, to the time that sasuke knocked on your door, were your parent's words. you had never even thought about dating, but here you were questioning everything

— going to the ramen shop, ordering your meals, you began to make conversation, until your food was placed in front of you

“you still have that distant look on your face”

“i-i like you a lot, y/n,” he admitted, his face turning red, as you didn't respond. were you surprised? disgusted? was the feelings mutual? sasuke felt sick to his stomach at the fact that you weren't responding.

“i like you too,” you finally said, smiling him.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“sure,” you shrugged, picking up your chopsticks.

— he eventually walks you home, this time, his hand brushing against your own. stopping in front of your house. your heart is racing, as you peck his cheek, running inside

— your relationship remains lowkey until it is exposed on accident. he had been sick when a few classmates decided to stop by and check on him. he slept downstairs, letting you have his room, when he heard the knock. opening the door, he was met by multiple voices asking if he was okay. making your way downstairs, you froze making eye contact with your classmates. naruto pointed out loudly that you were wearing sasuke’s pajamas before the uchiha slammed the door in all of their faces.

— only for the two of you to eventually let them in, acting as if nothing happened, admitting that the two of you are together, but you quickly change the subject, while sasuke continues to ignore everyone

— sasuke is very cautious and dating isn't even a priority for him, so for him to be so willing to be in a relationship with you, he feels deeply for you

— genin sasuke has a wall around him that only you have managed to climb over, to get to his true nature. around others, he acts like everyone is insufferable, even you

— however, when you spend the night at his place, or he visits you, while your parents are away on business trips, you get to see the real sasuke

— he’s gentle, clingy, and quite sensitive. from the moment that he let you in, his arms around you, as he mumbled a small apology for ignoring you earlier

— he seeks your approval, without even realizing it, did you see him training today? what did you think? did he seem like he was getting stronger?

— he is easily jealous but tries to act like he's not. you, hinata, and kiba are like three peas in a pod, but he can't stand the boy. hinata is very clearly only into naruto, but the wild boy is always near you, taking your attention. he also can't be too sure, but he saw him staring a little too long at you for his liking

— while he is jealous, he can hide it very well because his ego keeps him in check, he is the last uchiha, which made him better than kiba, right? also, you were his girlfriend and didn't even think of other boys in that way

— going back to his gentle and kind nature, while he usually starts immature arguments, he is also the one to want to make up first. you were trying to include him in some fun with your classmates, but he wanted to seem cool, so said no, mumbling how you were being lame. passing a few words, you scoffed, going to hang with your friends, then going straight home

— later that day, your mom called you from your room, saying that sasuke was here. concealing your frown, you invited him into your room, his arms were around you the moment the door shut. his breath shaking, his heart pounding, as he apologized, scolding himself for how he spoke to you

— doesn’t say much during conversations pertaining to if you were married when you get older, your dream wedding, etc. he just states that he will eventually want to restore his clan, when he’s older, while blushing

— leading up to him leaving, he becomes colder, and distances himself. you’ll sleep over and he won’t say a word to you, simply holding your hand, deep in his thought

— during the night that he left, not even you could stop him, completely changing your entire relationship

running as fast as you could, you came to a stop, seeing sakura knocked out, while sasuke was about to walk away.

“sasuke, don’t do this. you’re going to leave everything behind, kakashi, your friends, me. he just wants to use you-

“i have to become stronger, y/n, to k-

“to kill itachi, i know, but this isn’t the way, please”

“i’m sorry”

“sasuke, you promised we would grow stronger together, we would get married and restore your clan,” you cried, as he turned to face you.

“i cannot restore my clan until i’ve had revenge,” he told you, holding your face, as you cried harder.

“take me with you, if you have to go. i can’t be without you”

“no”

“please, sasuke”

“you have your parents, friends, teachers, many who would be broken at the thought of you gone. you can not go where i will be”

“you said you loved me, if you love me, why are you leaving me like i mean nothing to you?” you shouted angrily, tears pouring down your face.

“meeting and loving you has been my greatest privilege. you’ve brought emotions to me that i haven’t experienced since my clan was still alive. my love for you is the exact reason why i must leave you here,” he said, appearing behind you, knocking you out — leaving you and sakura both on a nearby bench, as he left, going to join orochimaru.

[jellicatty]

♯1 ┆ ❝ SUMMER BUMMER ❞ 𝜗𝜚 ᵎᵎ

With your teases and flirty remarks, the two men find themselves guessing the color of your panties— another game they played besides golfing.

╰┈➤ contains : nanami x beverage cart attendant! female reader x higuruma. nana and higu golfing. masturbation. grinding. mutual pinning. innuendos. nana and higu are perverts here. jealous! higuruma. reader is a tease. reader wear skirts.

╰┈➤ note : EEEE FINALLY I POSTED THIS it only took me like a months... anywayy, sex scenes aren't really my forte plus this is like the first time i wrote one sooo don't expect too much (?).

╰┈➤ next : groupie love (coming soon) ...

Defendants would put all the blame on him, the court's verdict is seemingly destined to oppose his favor. Or, that's what Higuruma thought. Another failed case, another living being failed by the country's unjust system, another alleged victim thrown into jail.

Higuruma though, knew that these circumstances would happen. His dream have lasted for centuries, formed by his compassion to deliver the accused to light. But little by little, his principles have formed cracks.

Although his workaholic nature is unfaltering, worsened by the multitude of paperworks, Higuruma does crave for rest. But, his work-life balance contradicts his need for relaxation. Until, the opportunity had arrived and he's now trudging to a bar.

To passerby, it was your typical, vintage bar that old and worn-out folks like him would visit. However, Higuruma saw it as a sanctuary for his deep troubles. From drinking with his colleagues or just simply letting his usually work-occupied mind slip away, his favorite bar had seen it all.

"One— No, three of these, please." His ever polite tone still there even as the hours of long work shouldered him down.

The atmosphere rivaled the comfort of his home, and it's probably why Higuruma had an liking for it.

"You're being carried away by your thoughts, Mr. Higuruma." The bartender was quick to notice his blank expression, placing his ordered drinks in an attempt to distract his mind from work.

But, the bartender knew Higuruma too well. Despite connecting only through brief conversations, and a short time together, the bartender had a sense of what Higuruma's state of mind is at the end of the day.

"If you want to take off your mind away from work, then I suggest doing something else for a change." Well, this hasn't been the first time the advice was given to the attorney. He's had his fair share of therapeutic tips from concerned people. None were able to fully convince him though.

"I don't... I'm too busy."

"You wallow in self-pity, yet do nothing to save yourself from it. I've met other people like you, people who find comfort in what makes them distraught." Instead of his duties, the bartender was now focused on Higuruma. "It doesn't end good for them. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. It's not that easy to let go of something that you've dedicated your whole life too."

"I'm sure nothing will be lost if you do let go for a fraction of a second."

"You're not going to give this up, huh?" Higuruma sighed, "Well, I'd like to keep a valuable customer." They both chuckled at the Bartender's wishes. After some thought and a drink or two, Higuruma was set on the decision to make some small changes in his life for once.

The problem is, what would be the change?

Gym was out of the question since he frequently did so. Hiking's too taxing and he can't leave his duties for a long time. Sports were a possibility, as long as it didn't physically exert him that much. Golfing, maybe? He thought.

"One of the gents at the bar earlier has been to the newly opened golfing course here."

Ah, golfing it is.

"I think that young fellow over there needs a getaway from their life, too." His focus turned to the younger, blond man sitting three stools away. A few bottles have been emptied, yet it was evident that he could go for a few more. Nothing outstanding from the man aside from his leopard-pattern tie. Just your typical, fatigue worker.

"Looks like you're also preoccupied with your mind, Sir Nanami. I take it as a bad day?"

"No need to say more."

Although Higuruma knew it was not the best to disturb the tired man, he thought that perhaps talking to him would make their mundane nights better. Maybe, to comfort him with the words he wished to hear.

"Sorry for intruding your conversation, but are you new here?"

"Nope. Been here for some time now. Just been a bit busy with some... grueling reports again." He winced at the mention of his work.

"Reports?"

"I'm a salaryman." Higuruma now turned his full attention on Nanami, filling his curiosity. He hands out a calling card, "Here, just in case." And for a brief second, Higuruma almost laughs at his own 'joke' that he always did with his new acquaintances. Fortunately for him, Nanami's humor was not yet stripped away by his boring profession and softly smiled at his friendly remark.

It's a simple change like this is what Nanami wanted. Nothing extraordinary, nothing too small to notice too. The two men shared their experiences, silently bonding over the heavy troubles they carried from day to night. And if they were being honest, this was one of those moments where they surely won't forget. It's like moments like this was there only escape from the tiring duties they must do.

Alas, the deepest night has caught up to them. The lulling blue tones that played throughout their visit no longer graced their ears. The only noise present was their chatter and the kind bartender's huffing and puffing of cigarette.

"You know, despite your gruff look, you're an approachable guy. A fun one too if you squinted."

"Oh, gruff? You should check a mirror, Higuruma."

The two men chuckled at their jokes, slowly packing up their own belongings before cleaning their surroundings. After they finished, they walked together outside.

The blistering cold of the night quickly breezed past the two men. A shiver and a small breath of fresh air later, they nodded at each other and departed from the bar with heavy steps.

The night was still young, and Higuruma's desperate for a change. Fortunately, Nanami Kento had arrived. Albeit small, Nanami still had made a difference to Higuruma's perpetual enervating days.

He doesn't want their interactions to remain just at the bar, though. Perhaps, he should suggest on golfing together to help the blond too.

The summertime heat was merciless. As one could anticipate for this time of year. In the intense heat, Higuruma and Nanami were helpless. Their experienced selves took turns swinging their golf clubs, finding entertainment in their calculated swings and triumphant shots. Empty cups scattered on their table, their belongings left unattended. 

Golf seemed like a good start—and maybe their greatest choice by far. It was not only a nice diversion, but it also provided them with the ideal reason to spend time with their favorite entertainment—you, the beverage cart girl. 

Weeks have passed, and life has been more tolerable. The first golf meets with Nanami were riddled with a comfortable silence, as if the two men had known each other for a while. The only bond they had was formed on their sleepless nights and persistent work, yet conversations flowed effortlessly. With their unfading politeness and formal talking that stayed even during their golf meets. They both assumed that the other was righteous, and a man of good qualities. Damn were they wrong.

Refined. Upright. Gentlemanly. Those words that used to describe the two men were long discarded. Since your arrival, the two men had been nothing but good, their true colors spilling from the shells of who they used to be. Higuruma could still vividly recall the moment where their true selves slipped. Their gazes were fixed only on you that day, overfilled with joy once you asked for their orders in that sweet voice you had. And right after you left them with their hard rock problems to themselves, they turned to each other as if their eyes alone could communicate. A word did not need to be shared. They knew that you were going to be a problem.

"What do you think's the color of her panties this time, Nanami?" Higuruma positioned his hips in a more appropriate manner, then swung his club. 

"That cheeky woman loves pink," Nanami replied. 

Aside from golf, they engaged in another game — guessing the color of your panties. As suggested by Higuruma when he caught a glimpse of it a few days ago, this was now the two men's favorite pastime. To them, it seemed only fair since you'd purposely bend over to shamelessly give them a view of your lace-trimmed panties that matched your outfits.

"I highly doubt it will be pink again—" 

Out of nowhere, the faint noise of tires screeching slowly approached the two men. Puzzled, they looked at each other first, before turning around. Their eyes confusedly searched for the noise, before their gazes landed on the approaching golf cart— or rather, you. 

It was as if you were the oasis in the Sahara desert, quenching the men's thirst with your exposed skin and alluring smile. With your pastel yellow pleats that went inches above your knee, your tight-fit Lululemon jacket that hugged your delectable figure, and your glamoured face, you joyfully steered the cart towards them. 

Your beautiful smile greeted them, "Sir Kento! Sir Hiromi! I've brought you your drinks again!"  

Higuruma's typically vacant eyes had their spark back to them, the usual boring look it wore instantly disappearing. Meanwhile, the hard lines of Nanami’s face eased, his stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

You hopped off your seat and prepared their ordered drinks, blind to their improper gazes that seek your undergarment. 

Luck was merciful, and the world was on their side today when a breeze had swept your skirt upwards in a cartoonish fashion. 

"Oh!" Your cheeks flushed scarlet at the embarrassing incident, yet your hands take their time to pull down your skirt. 

Their eyes are quicker than your hands, ill-intent gazes finding your undergarment in a flash. Light pink and polka dotted, adorned with a small bow at the front. The kind of panties that he envisioned every night. Nanami snickered, proving himself to be right once again.

"Pay up," Higuruma grumbled, cursing the man under his breath. Their actions no longer define the men they used to be. Their gentlemanliness and polished attitudes dissipate into the air at the sight of you. 

"Thanks, angel. You know how to make our day better, huh?" Nanami returned your smile and took the drinks from your hand. 

Higuruma is not oblivious enough to overlook Nanami's full interest in you. He's sure that a deprived man like him would ogle at your frame. He applauded the blond's self-control because, God, mini skirts were the death of him. 

"That would beeee... 12 dollars!" 

"12 only?" Higuruma pulled out his wallet and handed more than the said amount, "Here, keep the change, sweetie." However, your hands clumsily dropped the money. 

Your breasts from the tight-fit jacket were threatening to spill out as you bent down to grab the fallen change. Although involuntarily, the two men were able to shortly glance at it and oh, my— what a sight. Two mounds pressed tightly together, sweat sensually gliding on your skin, the natural red flush adding more allure. 

Their throats ran dry, needing a refreshment as they were taken aback by the promiscuous view of your tits. There's no way that wasn't intentional, they thought.  

Although you often pulled those stunts, your shyness still lingered— a thing that they grew fondness for. You excused your blunder, timidly covering your face as you walked back to your cart. 

"Aw, you going so soon?" You knew Higuruma would call for you. After all, he enjoyed your presence and often was the one chatting with you. From his smirk though, you should have known he had something in store for today. 

"Come, let Mr. Kento here teach you some golf lessons." Higuruma's true goal of making you break in broad daylight is hidden under his hoax suggestion. Nanami, with his sharp senses, saw Higuruma's real intention, irritated at being his guinea pig for entertainment. 

Despite his annoyance, he gratifies the other man's idea. Now, he has an inexcusable reason to close the proximity between you. 

You asked the man in your honeyed voice "Would it be okay, Sir Kento?", so sweet it's almost sickly. His ears are focused on your saccharine voice, contradicting his jumbled thoughts that insisted he was sick of hearing it, fearing how much power your words have over him. His mind wonders; Would you have that same, sugary and sweet voice? Would your moans echo like candy, alluring and irresistible?

Nanami's attention was quickly drawn to you, looking up at him, his bulging biceps pressed against your tits. Your big, doll-like eyes are desperate to be taught. Nanami wonders again if you'd have the same look when he'll be ruining you.

"Pleaaseee! My shift will be finished soon!" Your pout was his last straw, a victim to your begging once again. Sighing, Nanami agreed to your requests. 

"Yay! Thank you, Sir Kento!" 

"Calm down, sweets. Mr. Kento here is going to malfunction if you keep on clinging to him like that." Higuruma snickered at Nanami's flustered face. "Oh, I apologize, Sir Kento!" You sheepishly backed away and regretted your actions. 

The truth is, it wasn't just the two men that had their perverse fantasies. You too suffered their charm. Whether it be downing the alcohol they ordered, or simply breathing, it always had been a distraction for you. Their Ralph Lauren polos hugged their bodies in a nice fit, outlining their flexed muscles that shone deliciously under their sweat and the sun's rays. Thick, defined thighs, straining their pants. Even when playing normally, their wealth and professionalism exuded, something that you found very appealing. 

"Bend with your hips, Y/n. Not your waist." Would it be wrong to say that you found his strict demeanor attractive? Would it also be wrong to think of the many things Nanami would order you to do in bed? 

"Aaand— Did I do it right?!" Nanami's advice went through and exited your ear. Your swings misaligned and your ball never reached the goal. 

"Gosh, you're a lost cause, angel. This is how it's done." Without warning, Nanami walked to your back. His proximity was sinful as his crotch settled at your ass, the sudden closeness eliciting a small, shocked gasp from you. 

"Like..." He's also affected by the warmth and comfort your ass gave, hot breath fanning over your neck. He extended his arm and put them over yours, guiding your own so you can swing in a correct manner. "This."

But, aiming for the goal was the least of your worries. Not when Nanami's cock is noticeably hardening against your ass. 

"There, you did it!" 

A mix of disbelief and amusement flickered on Higuruma's face. Regret washed over him as Nanami took his suggestion to another level, scolding himself for underestimating the blond's courage and will to tease you right in front of him. With no escape, he's now forced to watch the consequences of his actions unfold. Yet, despite the pure jealousy clouding his mind, he does admit that the scene was enticing. 

His thoughts are improper and vulgar, your flushed expression fueling him more. His train of thought is unavoidable though. Whenever Nanami teased you in broad daylight, publicly, and in front of him, his thoughts will surely be anything but pure.

"S-Sir Hiromi—!" Your voice cried, not for help but for his attention. A whore like you loved the attention. You loved Higuruma's disgusted scowl as he watched the two of you get handsy. You loved Higuruma's body, which reacted opposed to his shown expressions— his bulge visible while his face grimaced. 

But, his thoughts got the best of him, and you only wanted to share your achievement. 

"Did you s-see my shot? It was perfect!" You finally let out a breath when Nanami pulled away, not without a small, teasing comment whispered at you. 

Let him watch. 

Oh, you will. 

Another time, though, because Higuruma's jealousy was painfully cutting through the air. His patience was wearily thin, and it's all because you cannot stop grinding on Nanami's bulge. 

Determined to outdo the blond's ministrations, and also ease his jealousy, Higuruma chimes in., "You mind for a dinner together? Could tell that you need a break just from your eyes alone, sweets." 

The sudden attention left you light-headed, shocked with their unspoken rivalry. You had power and influence over them, and you know just how to use it. But for now, your mind could only focus on the fact that you were going to dinner with your client. You’ve overstepped so many rules and most probably going to be in trouble, but a night with a man like Higuruma Hiromi was something you won’t deny.

Nanami sees your excitement. Feeling the sprouted competition happening between him and his friend, he quickly interjects, "I still don't have your number either. What is it, angel?"

Higuruma's betting on all of his suits (which are all expensive, by the way) that Nanami's going to fuck his fist to your pictures tonight. And he wasn't wrong. Because, as soon as Nanami arrived home, his first thought was to check your socials (surprisingly, not his paperwork). He was initially confused since you had an innocent facade online. Shared religious quotes, pictures with family, not a single photo where your boobs are out for everyone to see. He's even doubting if he followed the correct account. The only confirmation he had that it was yours was the new story you had posted. 

It was you, right after your shift, posing in front of the mirror with a smile. Your caption about thanking the Lord for another day made him laugh. He's confident that you're praising Nanami for his ministrations earlier instead. 

Nanami also wholeheartedly believes you're thanking him too for pressing his hard cock on your ass. He's flattered, and fucking horny, still bothered by the stunt he pulled earlier. 

His erection is painful, and Nanami realizes how he could take care of it. Although feeling a bit perverse at the act he's about to do, he shoves his second thoughts away, eager to cum at a picture of you. 

His lengthy dick is in his hand, gliding against his tip, then sliding up and down. His pre cum coated the top, oozing continuously as he stared at your picture on screen.

"Fuuuck..." He groaned, eyes closed, panting at the pleasure he was feeling. He indulges in his fantasies, letting his imagination run wild. He thinks of you inside his bedroom, wearing nothing but your light pink underwear, with polka dots all over and decorated with laces and ribbons. The same panties that he caught a glimpse of that he's so weak for. He's curious about what you'd be like, but he knew your salacious nature, and figured that you'll be the same slut you are. 

God, if only you were here.

If you were here, it wouldn't be him toying with himself. It would be you, bouncing up and down, drool dripping from your mouth, as his cock fucks your pussy silly. You'd have that dumb look on your face, mind clouded in a lust-frenzy haze as you desperately begged for more. 

"Mhm! Sir Kento!" He knows you'd call out to him, your voice ever-so-sweet, whining and weeping at the fervent feeling of him filling you up. 

"Gonna cum inside you." is what he'd say if you were here. And you being you, you're fain of his request, straddling his hips as if it was made to be there. You wouldn't pull away. Instead, you'd remain on his dick as splurges of cum shoot out of it. 

"T-thank you, Sir" You'd thank him for drowning your sex with his cum. Nanami would only get hard again at your sweetness that managed to stay in the bedroom, and he'd flip you over and pound himself into you. 

His empty promises to himself would be fulfilled one day. But for now, his hand will do. 

"S-shit" His voice is shaky, body trembling at his intense high. His palm is dirtied by his cum that he hoped was inside of you instead.

Tonight, it will be his hand. Next week, it will be your mouth. He's certain of that— No, he swears it will be your small mouth wrapped on his cock. Perhaps, with Higuruma fucking you silly too.

tags : @packsvlog @honeynanamin @rrssrios @misscigarettes @shokosbunny @shamelessdonutkryptonite @i1uvc4ke @dongh9e @freakadelik @tomurafrlover23 @sad-darksoul @glader13 @that-redheadd @beantokki @a-hidden-gem @joonsanswers @erenspersonalsexdoll @s-1-xx @shxniq @ilovetengen @zianaz-slvtz @jwnzlvr @wifenanami @20kglex @oromaangel @jejejjekskwl @s4m4nth4wrld @jaeminsmilk @alpha-mommy69 @lobsteeer @blackphoenix0718 @wrldldo @nappingmoon @cindyneko-strider @yumiecheesecrackers @rattats-world

© jellicatty | no plagiarising please (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: As you're deemed too dangerous and unstable to train with the others, you are assigned special lessons with Bahgra. The situation turns catastrophic but Kirigan is here to save you from yourself.

Words: 7k

TW: reference to prostitution and SA, graphic depiction of violence, eroticism, pinning, shadow play, smut, hurt/comfort

Note: I didn’t proof read it but I’ll do it later. Also next chapter won’t be that long aha. Also: HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Part V - Beneath His Watchful Eyes

Previous || Masterlist || Next

The more days flew by, the more it came off as an evidence for everyone but yourself: now that you had learnt the basic abilities of your Heartrender nature, continuing your training with the other Grisha wouldn’t get you anywhere. The morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy and thick curtains of your bedroom, painting the luxurious walls in soft golden hues.

Dressed in white as always — for you still refused to wear your red kefta —, you were lacing up your boots, letting your thoughts lose themselves in a swirling mix of exhaustion and unease that had become your constant companion in the Little Palace. Lately, the excruciating anxiety you usually felt prior to going downstairs with the others had diminished and this surprising phenomenon was partly due to Zoya’s sudden quietness whenever you were around. Since the incident of the dinner hall during which you had ended up covered in pig’s blood and defended by General Kirigan, the egocentric Squaller seemed to tolerate you. Or, at the very least, to bite her tongue hard enough not to taunt you anymore in the vilest way possible like she used to do. Following this event, a myriad of questions had lingered in your restless mind: was Kirigan’s intervention the only reason why Zoya left you alone? Why did the General decide to protect you from her petty behavior while you were nothing but a new and clumsy Grisha among a hundred of highly trained and skilled soldiers? And, most importantly, why did your usually numbed emotions tend to surge at once whenever he was nearby, as if he was able to trigger something buried deep within you?

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

“Come in,” You called with a neutral tone, standing as Genya Safin entered the room.

The Tailor was radiant as always, her round face reminding you of a delicate porcelain doll while her russet hair caught the light in a way that seemed almost magical. Even though you didn’t exchange much with her, she has been one of the scarce few who showed a bit of kindness toward you. Not directly, but through the form of timid smiles and empathic glances. Masking your natural coldness, you offered her a welcoming grin but immediately noticed that her bright smile was tempered by a hint of apprehension. Like a tamer getting into a tiger’s cage. A White Tigress, Tante Heleen’s shrilling voice corrected in your skull.

“Good morning,” Genya greeted, her voice a warm lilt that contrasted with the frozen desert of your iris, “The General has instructed you to begin the second step of your training today.”

You frowned at such news, your hands stilling and your shoulders tensing, “Training? With whom?” You dared ask, already dreading the idea of getting paired with someone else that Ivan or Fedyor.

“Baghra,” Genya replied with a careful tone, stepping closer but slowly for she knew how sensitive the instruction she had just delivered was. The name felt like a guillotine blade on a prisoner’s neck.

“Baghra?!” You repeated, your confusion deepening and your seraphic traits turning into the deadliest ice again. Obviously you had overheard whispers of the old woman’s brutal methods and reclusive nature. From what you knew, she didn’t bother training young Grisha but rather preserved her knowledge for exceptionally gifted creatures. An attention you weren’t sure to deserve. Nor want. “Fantastic,” You couldn’t help the sarcastic venom that escaped your plump lips.

Genya only nodded before walking toward the window, visibly uncomfortable. “Her hut is at the edge of the grounds. I’ll show you the way. Come with —

“Why her?” You cut her off, your voice edged with a sharp frustration, “Why not train with the others as is the case since my arrival here?” Getting familiar with public training sessions had already been a gargantuan task, so the idea of starting from scratch again left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Genya seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering away for a moment to regain composure before her focus shifted back to you, “The General has his reasons,” she said vaguely, though her speech lacked conviction and rather suggested that she knew more than she let on.

You felt a sudden pang of isolation tighten in your chest. That was unfair. After all, you had never asked for a special treatment. Quite the contrary, you had tried your best to meddle with the crowd even though it was vain. Even here, surrounded by Grisha who should have been your peers, you were set apart — an anomaly, an outlier. An abomination, “Fine,” You said curtly, grabbing your fur coat a bit more bluntly than expected, which made Genya flinch a little.

The Tailor beauty offered you an encouraging smile before leading you out of the palace. Your steps crunched over the frosted ground as you walked away from the imposing building. The towering structure of the Little Palace looked behind the two of you, like an ancient creature made of stone and adornments. With a last sympathetic grin, Genya pointed you the way to Baghra and retreated, leaving you to face whatever awaited you inside.

“Fuck me,” You mumbled under your breath, pausing at the threshold and gathering your composure, before stepping through the heavy wooden door.

She couldn’t be as bad as they said she was, right?

The small, dimly lit room carried a faint scent of wood smoke and incense. Its walls were lined with ancient carvings of saints and symbols that told the stories of another era. As your pale iris got used to the darkness, you stood in the center of the place with your arms crossed all the while studying the stern old woman who was before you. She hasn’t greeted you or said a single word. Instead, Baghra’s eyes seemed to pierce through you like a free and wise hawk appraising a caged animal.

“So, they think you are powerful,” The old harpy began, her voice a sharp blade in the still, almost suffocating air, “But power without control is not better than an open flame in a forest. I wonder what you are, little one. The wildfire or the restorative water?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the sting of the comment and the mocking tone that seeped through her every word. Control. You had heard it over and over, and, frankly, the constant reminders of it were starting to get on your nerves, “I never claimed to have control. Isn’t that why I’m here? To learn control from you, since it seems that no one has managed to do so? Or at least that’s what General Kirigan keeps telling me.”

Baghra scoffed, surprised by your boldness and your insolent nature, “Is that what Aleksander told you?”

So, his name is Aleksander, you thought and, somehow, it warmed your heart a little to know what he was called. Maybe because it made him more human.

“Control is only a part of it. What you need for the time being is understanding.” Finally she stepped closer, her cane tapping against the floor and as she came near, you had the familiar sensation of living shadows surrounding you, “What I want to know is what exactly are you capable of, girl? Not just the obvious — what else lies beneath those trembling hands of yours?”

Silence fell on the room.

“Speak!” She urged, tapping her cane more violently on the ground. The echo ripped through the air and made you jump slightly despite not being a scaredy cat in nature. The old hag was, indeed, not very sympathetic.

“Well,” You hesitated a little, your gaze drifting from her to the cane as if you were getting ready to dodge a potential blow from the stern harpy, “I can do what most Heartrenders can,” Your pace was slow for you were carefully choosing your words, “Stop hearts, slow breathing, crush lungs, induce pain, emotion-related changes…” The more you talked, the more your voice dropped to an unsure whisper, “During training I — ”

“I already know all of these. It’s not what I demanded. I want you to clearly explain what lies behind the rumors. What kind of miracles did you perform to get such a reputation?”

A Saint or a Monster.

A blessing or a curse.

Your shoulders slouched down at the inevitable: you had no choice but to talk about what happened during the whole year you were on the run and mention the incidents that unfolded, “I can also heal. Not only wounds but diseases. I’ve cured… Things that should have been fatal. Triggered some too..”

Baghra frowned, her sharp predatory eyes riveted on you, but she remained silent, waiting for more.

“There was this town who had welcomed me for a few days. A little girl would always come and share the little food she had with me. Ana was the name. She told me that she, as well as a small portion of the town, were plagued by a deadly, incurable disease. I just… “ You paused, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to remember the events in detail, “I don’t know how I did it but I cured her. I cured them all. It’s not that I did it consciously you know? It was as if… As if my instincts pushed me to do so and it happened that something inside of me knew exactly what to do. I left the day after because their reactions made me uncomfortable: they had started to bow in front of me and bring me offerings.”

“And then?” Baghra urged. Now her eyes gleamed with a curiosity she didn’t know she possessed anymore.

You continued, your voice growing quieter. Darker. “And then I left, encountered hunters and all went black. When I woke up, five mangled men were lying discarded on the frozen ground, broken in such a grotesque way that my stomach twisted. I remembered two of them throwing up and crying bright red blood. As for the three others… There was something else.” An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the memory, the metallic smell of twisted and exposed flesh coming back to you as if someone was gutted alive right here, right now, “They moved against their will, like puppets. They turned — No, I think I’ve made them turn against each other. I was so enraged you see but…” You swallowed hard.

Baghra’s cane came to slam against the ground again, the sound reverberating like a gunshot, “Control of another’s body and mind,” she muttered, fascinated. “Dangerous. Do you know what kind of devastation you could cause with that power? If you lose control for even a moment… Or if it fell in the wrong hands.”

“I know,” You interrupted, faking annoyance while your voice clearly shook, “That’s why I’m afraid of it. Which is even more frustrating considering that I’ve never been particularly afraid of something.” And somehow, that detail, which might seem insignificant to most, bothered you more than you wished to admit. Daring a quick glance at the grey-haired and eagle-eyed Grisha, you noticed how she studied you for a long moment, her traits still holding authority and sternness despite the brief glow of empathy. It lasted just a fraction, but it was enough to conclude that she wasn’t the heartless bitch people talked about.

“Fear can keep you sharp, but too much of it will paralyze you.” She finally said, her words wrapped in an unexpected sense of understanding. “Show me.”

“I beg your pardon?” You almost choked at her firm order. For a moment, you thought she was joking or at least taunting you since humor didn’t seem to be part of her. Yet, Baghra replied to your surprise with a raised eyebrow, full of judgment.

“Show me what you’re afraid of.” As her sharp command broke the silence, panic surged immediately through your being like a destructive tidal wave. Your chest tightened at the idea, each breath shallow and uneven. Not even summoned by a client at the Menagerie did you feel the weight of such anxiety.

You frowned, trying your best to hide your turmoil and keep up with appearances but your voice betrayed you, “On what?” You dare ask, “A chair? You, maybe?” The air around her felt oppressive, pressing against your pale skin.

Baghra, insensitive to your sarcasm, turned toward the corner of the room where a young Etherealki you’d already noticed during training stepped out of the shadow timidly. How long had she been standing there? The woman’s wide eyes darted nervously between you and the old witch, unsure. “Tanya has volunteered,” Baghra’s statement sounded so deadly cold that you felt like you had just heard yourself talk. “She knows the risks.”

Boom. Boom.

Your heart raced and sweat beaded at your temples, dampening a few ivory strands of your long mane. To be fair, you weren't just afraid of failing; it was the possibility of losing control and becoming the mass-murderous monster you had already let out a few times that you feared most.

“I— I just… can’t.” Words managed to reach your lips.

The Etherealki hesitated, not quite reassured by your reaction, then stepped forward, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her blue kefta as she spoke. “I-I’m ready,” she stammered, though her voice betrayed her fear, “Go ahead.”

You felt your whole chest tighten a second time, as though your ribcage was slowly but surely crushing your organs, reducing them to a pulp at the simple thought of what you were asked to do. It wasn’t much about empathy, on which you had always run low, but more about your refusal to face the reflection in your mirror in case she died, “Are you sure?” You breathed.

Tanya nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Baghra’s voice cut through the tension. “Control her movement. Nothing else.” She ordered as though it was the easiest thing to do.

A shaky exhale left your mouth. Carefully, you stepped forward, the cold hum of your power thrumming through your veins. With unsure movements, you raised your hands and focused on summoning your abilities that were impatiently waiting beneath your skin. Slowly, Tanya’s arm began to rise, her movements jerky and unnatural.

It worked. And the Etheralki wasn’t choking on her own blood nor bashing her own head against the nearest wall so far. That was a win. The taste of success didn’t last long though.

“Relax,” Baghra barked, suddenly hitting your fingers with her cane. The wooden stick struck your knuckles with a sharp crack, sending a bolt of pain through your hand that radiates up your arms.

“Aouch! Are you crazy?!” You hissed, fingers instinctively recoiling and the control you held over Tanya loosening. Yet, you forced yourself to stay still. The sting burned like a biting reminder that the old harpy wouldn’t hesitate to hit you again. Relentless methods… Now you understood.

“Your grip is too tight. Her arms were starting to twist in her back.”

Insults would have certainly flown from your pretty mouth hadn’t you been too focused on not hurting the young Etheralki. Instead, you adjusted the pressure and Tanya’s movements became smoother, more fluid, as you guided her to lift one arm, then the other, until they wrapped around her own throat.

A thin trickle of blood ran from one of your nostrils as you maintained the connection and narrowed your focus on the girl’s quickening heartbeats, which resounded in your skull.

Baghra stepped closer, watching with a mix of curiosity and alert when she noticed Tanya’s finger digging into her own flesh, “Good. Now release her.” She intervened because she didn't want to take the risk of seeing you force the young girl to strangle herself.

You exhaled loudly, dropped your hands, and watched the poor Etheralki stumble back. Her palms patted her throat as she gasped for air.

“I’m sorry,” You blurted, stepping toward her.

Tanya shook her head, “it’s fine,” she said, panting, “I’m fine.” To be fair, you couldn’t tell if she was trying to be genuinely kind or if her immediate reply was only motivated by the sheer will to stop you from stepping too close. The way she rapidly grabbed her chapka and left the hut when allowed to do so hinted at the second option. You stared at the entrance from which she departed, absentmindedly wiping the blood from your nose with the back of your hand.

“Heaven.” Baghra’s voice snatched you from your thoughts. Turning around, you saw her approaching you as carefully as if she was coaxing a wild beast, though her expression remained unfathomable, “You’re more than a Heartrender, indeed. I suspected it the moment I saw you but now it’s undeniable.” Her sentence floated in the air for a few seconds, the anticipation of what she would say next adding to the build-up tension, “Your power doesn’t just affect the body — it is the very essence of a person you can break and control.”

You turned to ice again despite how uneasy her statement made you feel, “Is that… Bad?”

Baghra sucked on her teeth before replying, “Not bad per se. But dangerous. You really need to master it quickly, little girl. And by it, I’m not only referring to your little science but also to the rage you’ve been keeping buried for so long. For some reason, you seem to end up losing control and hurting people whenever you use your abilities too intensely. Also, there’s something else…”

“What?” You growled. As if today’s revelation and experiments hadn’t racked your nerves enough, you thought.

An odd silence settled between the two of you, heavy and electric. The old witch’s dark eyes roved over your slim silhouette with a scrutiny that sought to strip away your very skin and reach the fibers of who you were. The elder woman rested her hands on her cane, unmoving, she clung to it as if bracing against a revelation she wasn’t yet ready to voice. You shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but Baghra’s focus didn’t waver.

There was something eerily familiar about you — an echo, a flicker of something she had thought long buried in the recesses of her memory. Back from the time the Fold was created. It laid in the tilt of your chin, the defiance in your gaze paired with that undercurrent of pain… A ghost of another time.

“Interesting,” Baghra muttered to herself, barely loud enough for you to hear. There was no warmth in her tone, only a thread of unease woven through the words. She feared that saying what she thought aloud would summon old wounds to life. Whatever it was — whatever connection the old woman could feel pulsing faintly like a forgotten heartbeat — remained unspoken. In all her wisdom, Baghra knew better than to meddle in such mysteries before their time.

Some destinies were inescapable. She concluded grimly.

“Never mind,” she said finally, turning away. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Now you are requested to leave.”

Harsh and inconsiderate, but you still obliged and, to be fair, you were more than happy to exit her place.

As you left the room, the harpy remained behind, her thoughts swirling like a howling hurricane. General Kirigan… When you had mentioned Aleksander earlier, it had been as if your soul already knew him.

Baghra gritted her teeth and at this very moment, never had she hoped so dearly for her predictions to be wrong.

You had waited impatiently for the moment you could curl up under the soft blanket of your bed after a warm bath and yet, you soon regretted daylight. Rolling from one side to another you had fought against insomnia for hours. It didn't help that the temperature of your room was high, rendering every attempt to relax properly fruitless.

Sleep finally condescended to visit you after you had removed all your clothes and sunk back into the comfortable freshness of the mattress. A few hours later, amid the night when the darkness was the thickest, you found yourself caught in that strange liminal space between sleep and wakefulness.

The sensation was indescribable — your body might have been heavy with exhaustion but your restless mind still refused to let it fully go. Besides, the silence around you grew unnerving rather than comforting. The eerie calm of the Little Palace seemed to press in on you, to the extent you almost wished you could hear the sound of Tante Heleen’s quill scribbling on paper or even the clicking of the golden chain at your neck whenever you moved. But all you were met with was a deafening emptiness.

As you lay there, trapped in such a strange state, the faintest stir of air brushed across your frozen flesh, resulting in a shiver running down your spine.

Your foggy mind was trying to rationalize and blame it on the strong wind outside but the truth was your window was closed and the heavy, thick curtains pulled in front of it. Had the wind been responsible, the curtain would have moved.

Soon after, you felt the thin bed sheet that covered you gently sliding off your body, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. What was that? Your breath hitched in surprise at the unexpected freshness. Shivering again, you opened your heavy eyelids, your arctic blue eyes scanning the odd shadows. Strangely, they seemed to thicken and gather at every corner of the room, growing bigger as you peered at them.

And from the shadows came the irresistible pull.

The sudden sensation crept over you, seeping into your consciousness. A familiar call that sent adrenaline pumping through your veins and turned your pulse into a wild drumbeat in your ears. The feeling didn’t come from a sight or a sound strictly speaking, but rather from something far more primal and instinctive. The frozen meadows of your crystal iris darted around the bedroom again but there was nothing. So why did the sensation remain, coiling in your chest and whispering that you were not alone? That you were watched?

The tendrils of shadow you were surveilling suddenly jumped from the corner with deliberate intent, crawling lazily but dangerously close like a pool of spilled ink. Once they reached the bed, they circled it and rose, devouring each light source. The moon, the candles, the twilight hue... Everything disappeared, guzzled by them until all remained was a pitch-black darkness that kept you prisoner.

If you had managed to remain rather quiet until then, panic definitely invaded you when an odd chill brushed your arm. You stopped breathing: it hadn't felt like the winter air but softer, like a touch. “F—Fuck” You squealed a little as the whisper of a second movement crossed your cheek, just like the graze of invisible fingertips.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Then it kept going, wandering all over you one place after the other and leaving you quaking each time. The darkness touched you again and again, trailing down your spine, and brushing the curve of your collarbone. What had started like a grazing sensation soon turned into the actual caresses of a ghost lover. As though they were the extension of his own hands.

The softest and most caring caresses you had ever experienced.

Your eyes fluttered close when the tendrils of shadow resolved themselves to wander all over your almost petrified body in a languid, intimate exploration. Gripping, electric, your being reacted vividly to them — feeling your nipples hardening, you couldn’t help but instinctively arch toward the phantom touches as if drawn by a force you couldn’t resist. The oddness of the whole experience vanished for an instant as you relished in their gentleness and the perfect knowledge of the most sensitive parts of you they seemed to have.

Heat pooled in your stomach and between your legs for the shadows danced across you, grabbing you by the hips to explore your inner thighs and graze the pearly petals of your already wet slit.

“Al— Aleksander…”

You moaned without realizing it. The name had left your mouth instinctively all the while you threw your head back. Caught in a swirl of pleasure and intimacy, you gave yourself to the darkness and parted your legs. A darkness that felt like the tip of a warm tongue coming to taste your intoxicating and hands cuddling every inch of your gleaming-with-sweat body.

“Fuck!” You groaned again as an electrifying wave of pleasure crashed against you like waves on the shore.

Everything was so real, so sensual, you couldn't distinguish dream from reality. A fire of arousal ignited in your entire being, fueled by lust. More... Your mind begged your hands brutally closing around the bedsheets and trapping the fabric in your small fists.

Heaven.

Your name seemed to echo faintly in the silence in reply, not truly spoken but rather felt.

No, it was definitely fucking real.

Alarmed by such an unbelievable realization, you came back to your sense and fought the pleasurable daze that enveloped you until you were able to turn toward the voice to search for its owner. A voice you had recognized and couldn't mistake for anyone else's. Still, nothing. Just plain blackness. The shadows tightened their embrace around you even more greedily when you moved though, as if afraid you would try to leave them. They curled around your legs and hips in a lover’s caresses, gentle yet incredibly possessive.

Stay.

And all of a sudden it wasn’t just the shadows; it was him. You felt a hand — warm and strong — cradle your face and tilt your head on the side to free the way to your neck. Overwhelmed, you squirmed a little but couldn’t fight the invisible force that was keeping you pinned to the mattress rather firmly.

Stay with me.

You could almost feel his soft lips against your ear, could almost hear his breath as he murmured words you barely comprehend but that made your heart race faster anyhow.

“Come to me…” It wasn't just a feeling anymore, it was a sound, a murmur that echoed in the void. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life…” Those were the exact same words you had heard when the Drüskelle had captured you, seconds before the General came to rescue you.

And then the dream shattered, dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

The intensity of the moment and the brutality with which everything had come to a stop left you awake, gasping, and drenched in sweat. How long did it last? You couldn’t tell, but when you reopened your eyes, the shy morning sun was bathing your bedroom in a soft, reassuring light.

“What the hell…” You panted, dragging your quaking body to the edge of the bed before pulling the white blanket and wrapping it around you. What the hell was wrong with you? Dizzy and shivering, you let out a shaky sigh and buried your burning face in your cold hands. Was it real? Was it a wet dream? Was your mind sick? Was it that damn place that was driving you crazy?

A second sigh resounded in the silence of your room.

Fortunately, the Black General was rather busy lately so you wouldn’t have to suffer fleeting but very embarrassing encounters. At least you hoped so for you weren’t sure to be able to look at him right in the eyes after the obscene dream you just had.

With your pulse still racing, you tried to forget that unsettling experience, shoving it in the back of your mind to focus on the work awaiting you today, even though the tingling sensation from the phantom touches still haunted your skin.

Because no matter how much you ignored it, how much you pushed the inevitable, Aleksander had already made his way through the very fabric of your soul.

If you had to pinpoint your best quality, it would be your ability to adapt to changes quite rapidly. That was probably why you had jumped in this new training routine without complaining too much once you had realized that you had managed to survive the first lesson with Bahgra. While insufferable, the old hag indeed taught you something useful.

Nevertheless, today’s training session had been particularly grueling. You let out a low growl of pain and wiped the blood that was dripping from your nose with the back of your trembling hand, the electric and wild sensation of power rattling against every nerve of your body. While some time had passed since your disturbing and erotic dream, your thoughts kept coming back to it and it made containing your powers ever more difficult.

“Concentrate.” Baghra’s voice sounded as pleasantly as nails scratching a black board. The old woman had been drilling you relentlessly to push you to control it, but the power within you had visibly a mind of its own.

Standing across from Tanya, the brave volunteer who returned to the hut and accepted to be your partner against all expectations, you could feel her unease radiating off her. While you understood that no one in her situation would have played it cool, she did seem particularly tense today. Etheralki's whole being was shivering, her wide eyes wide with apprehension.Could she possibly sense your own fatigue and struggles?

“Control it. Don’t let it control you.”

You nodded briefly but it didn’t keep you from mumbling a few insults under your beard before closing your eyes for a brief moment in order to relax. However, the fatigue that had been building up for the past months was taking a toll on you. The control, the lessons, the loneliness, the General’s growing effects on you… It was getting too much, even for you.

You know, one day you’re gonna crack if you keep sweeping everything that troubles you under the rug. One does not simply ignore what hurts. Fedyor once told you.

Pushing your limits a bit too far, a flood of emotions crashed against you and rendered all attempts to calm more than tricky.

“When are you going to listen to me, stupid little girl?!”

The hag was growing more impatient and even though her frustration was understandable since you had done everything wrong since this morning, the words she had used were the final nail to your coffin. Fedyor was right.

She had barely finished speaking when her frustrated taunt triggered a hurricane of aching memories to surge back. The cold, the violence, the screams, the smell. That disgusting and haunting combination of funfair fragrances, blood, sweat and tears.

Baghra didn’t know it but she had used the exact same words and tone Tante Heleen had used that one night she had got caught stealing food. Obviously, you had been heavily punished for that.

The memory struck like a lash itself, sharp and violent. Almost as brutal as the phantom bite of the whip across your back, the pain searing not just your pale skin but carving itself deep into your soul. Each cruel blow came accompanied by the echo of Tante Heleen’s voice, mocking, mean, and melting with Baghra’s. Stupid girl. Going to listen. Simmering in your blood, your overstimulated power only made it more vivid, to the extent that you could genuinely feel the sensation of the coarse leather against your back. The ache bloomed like a fire spreading across you, a sadistic reminder of your humiliation. Desperation. Of wounds that never truly healed.

LiStEn YoU sTuPiD GiRL.

The bitch scolded again. Baghra or Tante Heleen? You couldn’t differentiate them anymore.

And with the last flash of memory of the whip tearing your skin apart came a scream from your pretty mouth — a banshee’s shriek, haunting, blood freezing, that resounded in the room. So piercing Baghra immediately protected her ears with the palms of her hands. Following your cry, Tanya gasped loudly for your unleashed power burst, uncontrollable, and made her body both convulse and twist under the command of your moving fingers. The room itself seemed to spin as the energy slipped out of your control.

“Stop it!” You had the blurry impression that Baghra had screamed at you but her voice sounded so far away you thought she also, just like the flashbacks, belonged to your past. And all your life you’d drilled yourself to think that all that belonged to the past should be ignored, if not buried six feet deep.

One quick look at the frozen and determined expression etched on your broken doll face was enough for Baghra to understand; you had gone too far and she wasn’t sure she could fetch you back from the dark waters of your trauma. “Heaven, you’re hurting her!” She called your name again but you didn’t hear, the scorching hatred in your eyes turning her blood into liquid nitrogen. The wise woman’s instincts faltered, feeling powerless against the disaster unraveling before her. ”HEAVEN!” She barked, louder, but her voice lacked its usual commanding tone.

Tanya’s final gasp echoed before she crumpled to the ground, blood coming from her nose and eyes. In an instant, the old Grisha feared that you had really killed her.

“No! Tanya!” She cried out, a hint of panic weaving itself with the very tone of her usually neutral voice. Baghra was about to move, her eagle eyes assessing whether she needed to knock you out or bounce on the poor motionless girl in an attempt to push her out of your line of sight. It was about acting rapidly if she didn’t want the weight of an innocent Grisha’s death on her shoulders for she had been the one who had the idea of training you with a living target. When the fatality of the situation fell on her, realizing she couldn’t stop you anymore, Baghra stepped closer, her movements measured but hesitant. She stretched out her wooden cane as if to snap you back to reality, but the aura surrounding you was impenetrable, thick with chaos and grief. For the first time in years, fear crept into Baghra’s calculated resolve.

Then, everything went still. Black. Incredibly peaceful.

In the midst of your chaos, shadows had burst from the corners of the room as if replying to the tragic call of your despair and to the screams of your aching soul. They had slithered on the floor, bypassed the old witch and the Etheralki without the slightest hint of care, only to wrap around you in a cocoon, a bubble of obscurity. Just as they did in your dream.

Surprisingly, these same shadows were tangible, almost palpable: their sensation might have been a bit suffocating, one may even say thick, but they were definitely not oppressive — just agreeably heavy. At least enough to ground you. And when all you could see through the filter of your infernal fury was gruesome red and gold, pitch blackness settled in your mind and, with it, a calm you had never dream of washed over you, like a dark embrace that held you steady despite the storm.

Aleksander.

The recognition of him had been instant and didn’t require one single glance — you could have recognized his aura amongst thousands.

With crystal eyes filled with both fear and confusion, your lashes dared flutter open. The sight of the Black General appearing through black fog welcomed you, his imposing silhouette stepping toward you with both haste and confidence. No matter how terrifyingly deadly your powers were, Aleksander was everything but afraid. The tall darkness reached for you without a word nor hesitation, his arms pulling you tightly against him. Your body posed no more resistance. Quite the contrary, it fell limp against him just like a puppet whose strings had just been severed.

You melted as his warmth seeped into your arctic skin. A warmth that lit a comforting fire inside of you despite the thick layers of clothes which separated your two yearning beings. Ever-so-gently, one of Kirigan’s large hands ran up your neck and tangled in your magnificent long white hair to tug you closer. You shivered when his calloused fingers stroke your flesh. This time, it was real. Your eyelids shut tight again under the feeling of his strength, his body steady and unyielding as he enveloped you so tightly you were convinced that you would merge together.

You didn’t fight it.

You didn’t even want to.

Despite your loathing for unwanted and unexpected physical contacts, your small hands, trembling from exertion, moved instinctively and reached for him too. First and foremost, you touched his broad back, feeling his tense muscles under your moist palms. Your fingertips then brushed over the rich fabric of his kefta, the sensation of the wool slowly pulling you from numbness, before they trailed up to his square shoulders. Your hands rested there for a brief instant before you let your fingers curl through his dark hair, feeling the silken strands slip between your fingers.

Aleksander didn’t pull away during your exploration of him. In fact, he seemed to lean into your touch even more with a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest and his lips barely brushing against your ivory mane. Even though he had been a tad bit surprised by the fact you hugged him back at first especially since he hadn’t displayed any kind of affection to anyone in years, the General rapidly melted like butter under your caresses. His shoulders slouched a little and, with his face hidden from your sight, his traits softened in a turned briefly melancholic. Aleksander, who had thought he would never experience the devastating pleasure of holding someone he loved ever again, found a place he could finally feel bliss: your arms. For a moment, he couldn’t even tell which one of you was grounding the other. Deep down, and even if the goal behind display of affection had been to save you from your mind, it was you who embraced him so hard that he could feel the shattered, broken piece of his cursed soul stick back together. While still remaining an immovable anchor, the commanding figure of the General slipped away momentarily to reveal a glimpse of his real self.

“By the Saints…” The whisper had escaped Baghra’s lips as she watched the scene from outside the shadow. Her son, corrupted by ambition and pain, and that little wild Grisha clinging to each other for dear life...

She was aghast, astonished by the strange quality she noticed in Aleksander’s demeanor — a tenderness she had never seen before except once, with that little Healer from many centuries ago. The old witch clenched her jaw, for what she was witnessing now was the confirmation of the truth she had foreseen the first time you’ve met. And that truth was fate. There was something undeniable between her son and you, a bound that stretched beyond de realm of simple attraction. Yes, it was fate that was definitely pulling you together and you, little Heaven, was the key to whatever it was that Aleksander was becoming.

Aleksander could have released you now that you had calmed down a bit and that any risk of you snapping back to a killing spree mood had decreased but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Rather than stepping away, his grip became firmer and he didn’t stop until he could feel your heart beating against him. He pulled you closer and closer, your small breasts flattened against his chest and your heart catching the pace of his to drum in unison. It surely was a fleeting moment of peace, a moment that made you feel like the world had been lifted from your shoulders, if only for a minute. Barely acknowledging Baghra and the young Etheralki presence anymore, you lost yourself in the warmth, the comfort and the intensity of the moment. A little purr almost left your juicy lips as the General’s fingers tenderly traced along the line of your hair, soothing.

“I’m here.” His tender voice resounded, coming not only from his charming lips but from all around you.

The corner of your lips tugged into tiny, reassured and genuine smile.

”As always it seems…” Your voice dragged, words escaping your mouth before you thought of them because you didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to question what was happening between the two of you, nor why the General had always acted so differently with yours. For once, it was enough just to feel. To let his arms, body and shadows envelop you until you forget everything —the fear, the pain, the doubts. With him you were safe and you knew that if you were to break ever again, he would be there to keep you from crumbling apart.

“As always.” He whispered in your ear before reluctantly pulling back. The comforting warmth that had lulled you faded away cruelly.

He didn’t step back too far though, just enough to grab your chin and force you to look into his eyes. His unreadable gaze was so dark that there was no way to tell where his pupils stopped and where his iris started. You blinked, chasing away the remnants of dream dust from your long lashes as reality started to creep back.

“Are you alright?” He was quiet, almost whispering so that only you could hear. His hands were still resting on you, steady and loving.

You nodded in reply, though your body still felt the tremors of the experience, “I… Think so.”

But Kirigan didn’t release you immediately. In truth, his obsidian eyes lingered on you a moment longer until it fell on your lips, rosy and plump. Almost absentmindedly, as though struggling with his own desires, he simply put one of your long white strands back behind your ear in a gesture so intimate that your legs weakened. “Good.” He commented, before his thumb trailed down your jawline one last time and reached your lips. Heat suddenly flushed your cheeks, the blurry but steamy memories of that odd dream of him jumping back at you. His thumb gently pull at your fleshy lower lips and finally, with a soft sigh, the General let you go. He broke the contact, his other hand sliding along your arm in one last caress.

Cold settled back in his heart. And in yours.

“You’ve got a long way to go, Heaven.” He said, his tone far more soft than when addressing someone but that familiar authority and distance had come back. After ignoring the two others, he shot a quick glance at them to make sure that Tanya was fine. Or, at least, not dead.

You swallowed, teeth clenched, “I’m sorry to disappoint, General.”

“You’re not.” He cut more bluntly than he wished, “I just think that we still need to make a few adjustments to your training.” Aleksander stated, dark pupils surveying the slightest detail of your seraphic face.

“And what kind of adjustments if I may ask?” You hid again behind your fortress of ice, already embarrassed of the vulnerability you had shown to him earlier.

“A few private lessons with me.” The General’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried an edge of amusement at the surprise you had tried to conceal behind your mask of coldness. The faintest dimple appeared on one side, softening the sharp and stubbled line of his jaw.

Baghra’s whole body stiffened while she watched the exchange quietly, knowing there was more to this suggestion than you realized. Much more. She looked at her son, unapproving, and knew.

She knew that he wanted to keep you, possessive and jealous as he was, beneath his watchful eyes.

☾ Please consider reblogging and commenting if you want the story to continue. It is what motivates writers to write the next chapters...

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art , @lightinbug , @kmc1989 , @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows58 @kasagia

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Callin’ Somebody Mama

Tags [ @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @pear-1206

The cold Montana wind blew my hair all around except in my face while I rode beside my boyfriend Lee on horseback. Eyeing the herd of cattle running across the field yet I noticed a mama caff slowly walking behind the rest of the group. Tugging the reins of my horse I pointed towards the mama caff knowing something wasn’t right with her. “Lee, do you see that? I think she’s hurt. Let’s go.” Kicking my horse in its side my horse Chloe ran towards the injured cattle where I dismounted my horse a few steps away from the animal.

Lee followed after me, dismounting his horse carrying a rope in his hands just in case the mama cattle decided to run off when we tried to help her. “Looks like a breach. Can we get her up?”

“No. We’ll pull it while she’s down.” I dropped down onto my knees wrapping my arms around the mama’s stomach holding her down onto the ground with all the strength I could so she didn’t kick me or run off.

Lee bent down behind the mama’s back legs looking between them to see the baby trying to get out. “You got her, Y/n?”

“Yeah. You got the legs.” I nodded, feeling the mama beginning to squirm.

Lee grunted pulling the baby calf out by its legs pushing the mama and baby apart for a minute after I had fallen down onto my back to avoid getting kicked by the calf’s mama who had jumped up. “Woo - that could’ve gone a lot worse. Here, are you alright there?”

“Sure. I just decided to take a nap on the ground like this after delivering a calf.” Crossing my arms over the back of my head I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly.

He extended his hand down to me, pulling me upright to stand with him. “Forget that I asked.” He found a large rock off to the side of the area where we had just delivered the calf as me and Lee took a seat down to rest for a moment.

Lee and I had been together since middle school. He had nervously asked me out to our junior prom. My mother had gotten pregnant with me at the age of 13 so when he asked me out she was slightly worried I’d get pregnant just like she had. Thankfully Lee was raised right and we had taken things simple and slow by just spending time together working his family’s ranch.

I didn’t think I’d like being a rancher growing up. According to Lee you’d never get a day off from the work of raising the food that you would later eat. But somehow I began to fall in love with it and I knew it had to do with how much joy it brought the oldest Dutton son. He puts his heart and soul into this life and the land and that’s beautiful to watch.

Shifting my gaze across the field I ran a hand through my messy braid watching the mama and her baby calf begin walking around together. “Lee, don’t punch me for asking this but what do you see when you look at that calf?”

“I see a life I gotta feed and defend until it grows up and feeds me.”

I pretended to play dumb tilting my head to the side with curiosity. “So that calf is your baby now. Congratulations, you're a mother.”

“Please don’t start calling me mama, Y/n.” He shook his head in embarrassment.

I couldn’t resist and he knew he had just set himself up to be teased. “Mama Lee, it has a nice ring to it.”

“Seriously, don't start telling my siblings to call me that would you.” He begged me, looking in my direction fiddling with the tan cowboy hat sitting on his head.

Scooting over to him I whispered in his ear with a grin on my face. “Mama Lee.”

“Y/n, please stop.”

“Mana Lee, what are you going to name your baby huh?” I questioned him before he sharply turned his head around getting in my face when he blurted out his next response.

“I'd rather be calling you mama then my girlfriend anymore.”

Blinking my eyes a couple of times I became confused at what he had just said to me. “Wha-what. How could I become a mother if I'm not your girlfriend anymore?”

“By becoming my wife and having my children.” Lee responded by getting up from the ground and lowering himself down onto one knee right in front of my eyes. He dug inside his tan jacket pocket taking out a small black box, opening it to reveal a small ring.

Bringing my hands to my mouth I felt tears welling in my eyes at what was happening right before me. “Lee, you can't seriously be -”

“Proposing, oh yeah I am.” He takes one of my hands in his, holding onto the ring with the other. “Y/n, I never knew you'd be the woman that I fell in love with. I always thought we'd just stay friends until our junior prom rolled around and all I could think about was asking you to be my date. Now you're sitting here as my girlfriend and even that doesn't seem to be enough. I want - I want to call you mine forever. I want to call you my wife. I want to have kids with you - honestly there's no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with on this ranch. So will you marry me?”

Throwing my arms around his neck I tackled him down onto the ground where he clutched the ring in his hand so he didn’t lose it. “I love you, Lee Dutton.”

“I love you too - but uh - does that mean you're saying yes.” He chuckled sitting upright keeping me sitting in his lap, showing me the ring again.

Giggling in response I held out my left hand letting him slide the ring on my finger. “Yes, yes, yes I'll marry you.” The ring had a simple light blue jewel in the middle of it and was somewhat familiar to me for some reason when I sent my now fiancé a look of curiosity.

“It's my mothers ring. I asked my father if I could pass it down to you. I hope you like it.”

Leaning forward I slowly kissed the oldest Dutton with a grin on my lips. “I love it just as much as I love you.” He smiles, kissing me and I hold back a laugh at the tickling off the beard on his chin.

“What’s that look for, Mrs. Dutton?” Lee asked me pulling away from the gentle kiss, keeping his arms wrapped around my waist holding me close to his chest.

A smirk grew across my face when the words left my mouth. “What do you say to start working on me becoming a mama eh cowboy?”

“You’re a clever girl, Mrs. Dutton.” Lee scooped me up into his arms hearing me giggle with such joy, carrying me bridal style over to our horses and we rode back to the Foreman's cabin as fast as we ever had in our lives.

[justiceforvillains]

Don't you care about the Casualties

➽ PAIRING : Vampire Bangchan x Fem Reader

➽ SUMMARY: The Kingdom maintained a fragile pact with vampires, promising no harm would come to either party—until the King's greed got the better of him. As punishment, the powerful vampire Lord Bang claims his firstborn child as his own, sealing the fate of the royal family in a cycle of vengeance and bloodshed. Twenty-four years later, Bang's son, Chan, discovers the king's daughter, Y/N, who is blissfully unaware of her family's dark history, setting the stage for a clash between human innocence and vampire vengeance.

➽ WARNINGS : dead bodies

[Part 2]

In a realm untouched by time, there laid a kingdom shrouded in a thick mist of fear and darkness. For decades, this kingdom had thrived under an unbreakable pact with its dark denizens—the vampires. Enforced under the eerie tranquility of a blood moon, the agreement dictated that no vampire would ever claim the life of a human, and conversely, no human would dare hunt a vampire. Each month, at the stroke of midnight, the royal family would deliver offerings—sheep, goats, and other livestock—to sustain the vampires, ensuring that both sides lived in peace.

Generations passed, and neither humans nor vampires strayed from their promises. The bond, however, began to weaken as the passage of time dulled the edges of fear. Unsatisfied with the status quo, The King, driven by greed and arrogance, began to entertain dangerous thoughts. In his delusions, he convinced himself and his people that the vampires had lost their infernal powers, weakened by the advancement of human weaponry and courage. Boldly, he gathered his most loyal knights and devised a dangerous plan: to invade the vampires' grand castle hidden deep in the woods.

The attack was swift and brutal, yet the King soon discovered the dire consequences of his stupidity. The vampires, far from weakened, rose to defend their domain with ferocity. The clash between the two factions echoed through the expansive realm, but it ended in tragedy for the king. Most of his men lay lifeless at the feet of their undead foes, while the few vampires who fell were mourned by their kin. Among the familiar faces turned cold were the loved ones of Lord Bang, the most powerful vampire of the castle.

Suspended in air by the vampire’s iron grip, The King choked in terror. “Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't shred your pathetic mortal body to pieces with my bare hands, then destroy and kill everyone you love in your kingdom?” Lord Bang snarled, his voice sharp and dripping with venom.

“Ple-please m-ercy,” the man gasped and clawed at the vampire’s forearm, but the grip only tightened, the red glow of Bang’s eyes piercing through the dark, caving in the king’s pleas for life. With a flick of his wrist, the vampire hurled him across the grand hall, followed by a chilling command to all the vampires behind him: “Rip him apart!”

“NO! Please, I will do anything, please!!” the mortal cried desperately as a pair of vampires restrained him, their fangs glistening ominously.

“Stop!” cried Bang, an unsettling smile curving his lips as he approached the king. “Anything?” His tone dripped with indulgence as he reveled in the human's growing fear.

“Yes! My lord, anything you want. I’m your servant!” the desperate king pled on his knees, barely able to breathe.

“I heard the queen is pregnant?” The question was almost casual, yet it felt like a death sentence to the king.

“Ye-yes,” he stammered, hope quaking within him as he believed he could negotiate his way to safety.

“Your firstborn is mine,” Bang declared, his form suddenly looming above the only alive mortal, his long fingers gripping the King's chin painfully, sharp nails piercing the flesh. “Understood?”

“W-hy?” was the terrified response, but the vampire's hand swiftly moved to the king's throat, holding it tightly.

“YOU DON’T ASK ME QUESTIONS,” Lord Bang hissed, fury pooling in his eyes. “You just obey my orders, understood?” The king nodded swiftly, and the grip released.

“Good. As soon as your firstborn comes of age, they will be sent to live in this castle. Meanwhile, we’ll indulge ourselves in a feast from your beloved kingdom. It’s been far too long since we’ve tasted human blood, ain't that right, brothers and sisters?” The echo of wicked laughter filled the castle, sealing the king’s fate.

When the day finally arrived for the queen to deliver their heir, Bang made his presence known once more. He floated into the royal chamber with a predatory grace, drawing gasps from both parents as he held the newborn. In a dreadful motion, he dragged his sharp nails along the baby's tender skin, drawing blood, leaving behind a crimson trail.

“What did you do to my daughter?” the queen shrieked, yanking the screaming infant from the vampire’s grip. Bang merely smiled, revealing razor-sharp canines that glinted menacingly.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear, it will heal,” he purred with a cruel delight. As if responding to his words, the wound healed, leaving behind a scar that marked the child as eternally bound to the vampire. “It’s just a mark to remind you of who she really belongs to.” With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving terror in his wake.

“Father, why do you want their child?” Chan asked innocently, his voice laced with confusion as he stared at the gruesome remnants of the royal family’s betrayal with anguish.

“I want them to know pain,” Bang replied, his voice laced with anger. “I want them to witness her grow up, and when the time comes…” His voice turned dark, filled with rage, “We will kill her right before their eyes.”

He crouched to meet his son’s gaze, a fire of vengeance igniting between them. “Listen, Chan, did you see what they did to us? Did you see how these humans betrayed us? How they will continue to betray us unless we show them fear? Promise me to always seek vengeance for your family. If you ever lay eyes on a human, I want you to kill them slowly.” Chan nodded, hatred already festering in his small heart.

Years turned into decades. The soft whispers of time nurtured the decay of history, and in the heart of a sprawling forest, an unassuming wooden hut sheltered a girl named Lee Y/N. With a spirit as bright as the sun, she was the embodiment of joy, laughter spilling forth effortlessly as she played, oblivious to the sins that followed her family’s Name.

One day, while helping her mother prepare dinner, Y/N glanced at a peculiar scar on her neck. “What is this scar that I have?” she asked, a sweet curiosity lacing her words. Her mother’s body tensed, a flash of fear crossing her face before she cupped Y/N’s cheeks, forcing a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry, honey. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

Y/N pouted, feeling a familiar ache of uncertainty. There were days when she couldn't shake the feeling that her parents were hiding something big from her. Despite being on the edge of adulthood, her parents clung to control, imposing increasingly ridiculous rules:

1. Never invite anyone inside the house.

2. Don’t talk to strangers.

3. Come home before sunset.

4. Don’t stop to converse with anyone in the woods.

5. Always take the same path home.

These imposed limitations suffocated her spirit, and Y/N often envied the laughter and camaraderie of her peers in the village, longing for companionship but feeling trapped within her sheltered existence. As her 24th birthday approached, she mustered her courage to petition for more freedom.

Her parents noticed the change of the attitude, and despite their concern they bend the rules a little bit for her to stay outside longer, Y/N was an outgoing person she loved to stay out and not holed inside the small hut all day, but that mistake might cause them a lot….

The next few days her parents gave her a little bit of freedom, but the rules were still there, her 24th birthday was near, and she decided to try and convince her parents to let her stay out past sunset, she wanted to watch the stars

She also wanted to visit the town more frequently, she would only go there to buy bread and apples, she only talked to the shop owners, she really wanted to interact with more people, she wanted to have friends..

She was going back to town to get fish from the market, as usual it was crowded but, However, the usual vibrant atmosphere was now tinged with an unsettling tension. People moved anxiously, glancing over their shoulders. Skirting the buzzing crowd, Y/N edged her way to her regular vendor, an elderly woman with a kind smile.

“Good morning,” Y/N greeted cheerfully.

“What will it be today, dear?” the woman replied.

Before she could answer, she heard gasps and yelling when she looked back she saw people clearing the way for a tall broad man with a big Umbrella.

“What's going on?” she was confused the crowd looked scared while the man was simply walking, an old man next to her asked

“Your not from here little girl?”

“No I'm fro-” she stopped herself, her parents told her to never tell anyone where they lived

“far away..”

When she turned back to watch the scene, she found the man right in front of her, the old man gasped “pl-please” he whimpered the man sent him a glare before staring down at you, you didn't know what to do you just stood there looking innocently up at the stranger

“you dare speak in my presence?” you blinked a few times confused, you guessed that the man was very powerful and important, since everyone looked so afraid “uhh sorry..?” The man's expression went from anger to confusion “you're not afraid?”

You was growing impatient you already said sorry, you just wanted to get fish and get home “of what?”

You heard someone whisper “this girl's foolishness is going to cost her her life,” the man just kept staring at you until his eyes widened, you followed his eyes

You immediately covers the scare that was on the side of your neck “you are…” the strangers seemed to be surprised before he backed away, he regained his composition rather quickly before he glared “go home now while I have mercy”

You wanted to protest but all these scared people indirect that this person was dangerous so you just left, your heart pounding in your chest, this is definitely not the kind of conversion you had hoped to have, you decided not to tell your parents you didn't need them to worry

---

“BANCHAN! BANCHAN?!” A furious voice pierced the stillness of the grand chamber.

“What the fuck do you want, Minho? I’m not in the mood!” Bangchan exclaimed, slamming his quill down in irritation, his patience fraying.

“Stop being so pissy; I have GREAT news!” Minho cheered, bouncing excitedly, his energy infectious yet irritating.

“What?” Bangchan viably scoffed, rolling his eyes at the enthusiasm that felt out of place amidst the explosive tension.

“I found HER!” The exuberance spilled from Minho’s lips.

“Who?” Bangchan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“The king’s daughter!” Minho declared triumphantly, a malicious smile plastered across his face.

The vampire lord started, rising from his seat abruptly, causing his chair to tumble backward. “Where?!”

“Calm down,” Minho teased, swinging his legs playfully as he leaned against the table. “At the fish market. She was the only one who didn’t flinch in fear. I suspect she’s clueless about our existence.”

Bangchan’s expression shifted, an evil grin curling his lips. “And they’ve kept her sheltered all her life?”

“Looks that way. She’s innocent, and oh, so naive,” Minho mused.

A darkness settled over Bangchan as he gazed out the window overlooking the Kingdom of Arathos. “They will pay for their betrayal.”

“When are we going to strike?” Minho pressed, excitement crackling in the air.

Bangchan turned with a serious glint in his eyes. “We? I don’t recall including you in this plan,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“They killed my mother, Chan,” Minho’s tone turned somber. “I won’t rest until I avenge her.”

Bangchan’s shoulders slackened, understanding the undercurrent of pain. “I know, Minho. I promised we would avenge our families, but we must do it in the most painful way possible.”

“What do you have in mind?” Minho asked, intrigue flickering behind his eyes.

The vampire lord smiled darkly, plotting vengeance that rippled with deadly intent. “Trust me…”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

✦ Masterlist ✦

[Part 2]

[myhornysaga]

My War Criminal Husband

Established relationship, Graves x fem reader

A/n: idk anything about law, lawyers or courts kindly do NOT come for me. Thank you!

You and Graves are a match made in hell.

You, a criminal lawyer with a sharp tongue.

Philip Graves, a war criminal, CEO of a private military company and your husband, your partner for as long as you could remember.

You two together, are a force to be reckoned with.

Graves knows you, you know Graves. You both are each other's immovable rocks that keep each other grounded. A reminder of both of your roots and how it all started...

You trust Phil and Phil trusts you.

And that is why you are now representing his PMC at the Court.

It is a highly televised affair so all eyes are on you. Phil didn't come because he's currently in the midst of a Contract but thats confidential info besides he knows you're good under pressure and can handle things well in his absence.

The party involved, prosecutor claims "'Commander Philip Graves' and his boy band have committed war crimes on foreign soil. Killing civilians, children and women with that bomb drop! We need to disband this mercenary group with immediate effect!, your honor". The old man growled as he finished his sentence and glared at you while sitting back down on his seat.

As if! You thought. The Shadows isn't just some pmc in the market or Phil trying his luck in business. It is something that Phil and you created from ground, from dust with extensive planning and research did The shadow company formed. Raising it like a child you both never had. Phil describes it best.... "we're all just one big family!"

And no way in hell would you let some cranky old man Mr Tithabeault, tell you to 'disband' your company! It is like a neighbor asking a mother to maim her child!

"Your honor i object." you stood and started your piece.

All eyes were on you now. Everyone is watching. Heck the entire thing is televised around the globe. So you knew you have to be careful with words and attitude because you weren't in just any court. No, you were representing The Shadow Company at the International Court of Justice in Hague, Netherlands.

------------××××××××××××××××××--------------

After grueling session between the prosecutor and you, the defendent. You delivered your final piece.

"Your honor my client is not just deciding to wake up one day and plan on bombing on foreign soil as Mr Tithabeault here suggests." You took pause and took a look at the prosecutor to deliver the final blow.

You continued, "..No, oh no! The Shadows Company is working under Contract alongside a Country's army. It is a confidential information so my apologies i cannot specify the country. But regardless, your honor, my client's working with the Army which, by default", you knew just few more words and this case's win is yours. You glanced a final smug glance at the prosecutor before continuing..

"..by default my client is considered an extension of his then-contractor. Not some, to quote Mr Tithabeault, rogue 'boyband'!" And with that finishing line you took a sigh as you sat back down in your black robe.

You knew you have won the case beacuse it is a bogus case in the first place! Graves' receives a lot of accusations every now and then and you are too used to fighting the same fight over abd over again.

But the only reason this case became a high profile case is because your husband has quite a list of enemies and 'some' of these people just have 'some' people in high places. Thus this one horse got dragged to the ICJ.

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

The verdict came and just as you had predicted, you won.

Same shit, another day. Simple as that.

You smiled as you walked out of the prestigous International Court, to get into your car.

You had two Shadows by your side for your protection.

Just as you stepped outside the building, in a minute you were swarmed by thousands of reporters, protesters yelling screaming hounding you with questions on the trial, cursing you for representing a mercenary group and what not.

But you couldn't care any less. You know you had a job which was to have Phil's back and you did your job well.

The two shadows cleared the way for you to a 3rd shadow opening the car door for you to enter into your black bullet proof SUV.

The moment the door closed you took deep sigh of relaxation.

The 3rd shadow entered the passenger seat and the driver started driving to The Ritz Hotel where you are residing for the duration of the trial.

"Maam", the shadow on the passenger seat called out for you.

Your eyes were getting droopy due to exhaustion but the man's voice woke you up from your daze. "Yes?"

"Maam you have a call from shadow 0-1 ugh", he corrected himself thinking you may not be aware of the field callsign " its Commander Graves", he finished as he handed you the satellite phone.

Your eyes lit up on the mention of Phil's name.

"Phil? We won", you muttered with a hint of past work loads exhaustion still there.

"Y/n? Babe you did great today! I knew you'll get it done..", he said from other side.

You could hear he's happy, "ah it was nothing. Same stuff just different day honestly..", you are tired from all that work load of late night research and stress and it was evident in your tone subconsciously. But you tried to hide it while talking to him. Hell you haven't seen him for a month!

"Saw you on T.V. babe. You looked hot. I'll make my payment to ya for being my lawyer as soon as i come home.."

You chuckled at his suggestive comment, "oh you better!"

He sensed your exhausted tone from miles away.

"...'Kay babe gotta go now. The boys will take care of you till you reach home. Tell em to hit me up as soon as you drop, ya?"

"Yeah, ofcourse.."

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

Part 2

M.list

Series masterlist

[alex-thegiraffeboyy]

Chapter 3: Misty

Summary: You and Vi got a fight, they try to figure things out.

Words: 2.3K

Bewitched Masterlits

Enjoy it, because I loved writing it 😿💕

A job had recently come up. And from what Vi had told you it was THE job.

You weren't surprised where the information came from, but that didn't imply that you weren't angry with Ekko. You had asked him multiple times to stop following clients that came from uppercity, that someday he was going to get in trouble for following them, but he didn't seem to want to listen to you. But, in this case, it wasn't Ekko who worried you the most, but Vi, who was the one who was the most convinced about going to the house to get sophisticated materials and sell them. There was only one problem.

You didn't agree.

And as much as it weighed on Vi, she knew she couldn't do that mission without you. By constantly working hand in hand with Benzo you had learned a few tricks. You had an eye for recognizing valuable artifacts. You could recognize junk worth no more than a nickel next to junk worth a hundred gold coins. You could recognize dangerous artifacts and warn them about it. Vi knows she could do it alone with her brothers, but she knows it could be a thousand times better if you went with them. And this was an opportunity they had to make the most of.

But you definitely didn't want to be a part of it. Although after a few hours of back-and-forth between the two of you, you finally gave in a little, and asked her for time to think about it. So Vi gave you time.

And for a few days things went on as usual, except that things between you and Vi were a little... tense. None of her brothers knew what had happened, they just knew it had something to do with the argument they had had over the job with the Piltover house. And it's just that in that fight things got out of control and they said some things they didn't mean in the heat of the moment. Especially Vi.

At some point in the conversation the butterflies that always accompanied her had turned into wasps that flew at full speed towards her with the intention of harming her in order to defend what she believed was right (not that you didn't have your own wasps, you just tried to contain them as much as you could -even if it meant letting them hurt you-). But once things calmed down, once you got your head on straight and your feet on the ground, regret began to eat you alive from the inside out. Shame became a second skin between you, filling you with discomfort and nerves.

They purposely stopped looking for each other over the days, but the universe, as if it wanted to help them, made them meet again and again. One time Benzo would ask you to bring something to Vander for the bar and as soon as you set foot inside you would spot the blue and pink hair in front of the bar sipping a juice while they talked to Vander. Your throat would close up and anxiety would fill your system. Did you have to talk to her? What would you say? Would she be angry or would she forget? What if she didn't want to see you? What if...? But you put that aside, took a big breath and walked towards them.

Vander greets you with a smile and Vi can't help but freeze in place, her gaze remains stoic, but her thoughts become restless, having the same questions as you. She doesn't dare move as soon as you reach the bar to deliver what you had been ordered. She hears you wave to Powder as you try to dodge the conversations. As you avoid staying any longer. You sound rushed and somewhat nervous, and something about that makes Vi's heart squeeze painfully in her chest. You was never in a hurry to leave. Normally you'd stay a while to chat and let Vander pour you a glass of juice before you remembered you had things to do.

Look at me. Vi wants to say, but the words feel ironic in her head when she can feel your gaze on her at times. The one who doesn't have the strength to see you is her. She feels just as helpless as she did when she was a child and couldn't get her stuffed animal down from between the wires.

She hears you leave the bar and the next thing she feels are the stares of her sister and foster father on her.

"What happened between you and Sunny?" Powder dares to ask, looking at her with those big, curious eyes that characterize her. Vi doesn't turn to look at her, resigned to finishing her drink with a tense face.

"Vi?..." Vander asks softly as he notices that the girl didn't respond. She seemed distant. Distant to all his words.

"It's nothing" And with that she rose from her seat and left the bar for his room.

She felt like she was clinging to a cloud. And she couldn't understand why it caused her so much anguish. Why she couldn't get up the courage to talk to her. To apologize to her. Her head felt weird.

Misty.

So they spend a few days avoiding each other. Awkward glances, nervous hands. And no matter how much everyone asks, they keep avoiding the subject.

And you miss each other. But you don't know how to tell each other.

So her brothers decide to intervene. Well, Powder and Ekko.

On the one hand Powder has been watching her sister. She knows she's sad and that's why she sits alone on the roof during sunset lately (since she usually watched them with you). On the other hand, Ekko knows that you try to avoid that. He knows that you and Benzo have a silent agreement about letting you off for a few hours between afternoon and evening so you can be with Vi, but since you've both been avoiding each other recently, you usually stay a little longer in the store to clean up. So they plan everything to perfection. And one afternoon, Ekko starts with the plan they've been doing.

He sees you halfway across the tent, cleaning a pair of binoculars as you sway gently, humming a song under your breath, your back to him. He breathes and counts. One... Two... Three... This has to work.

"What are you planning, Ekko? You know I can feel you behind me, right?" Ekko feels his soul leave his body for a few seconds, but quickly decides to return to his performance. The perfect opportunity.

"No... I was just thinking about what you would say" You still don't turn to him, still concentrating on the cleaning between your hands.

“ 'bout what?"

"Well... Powder asked me to tell you that she needed your help putting together one of her pumps, she's not quite sure what some of the parts are for. She told me she'd like you to come over today, because the rest of the week is going to be kind of busy... B-but, I know things with Vi are awkward!, so..." Your heart squeezed a little. They shouldn't have to worry about whatever was going on between the two of you, and as much as it made you uncomfortable to be around Vi right now, you didn't want to make Powder feel bad, or make her think that because you had issues with her sister you wouldn't see her anymore. So you grabbed your stuff, said goodbye to your brother, and set off on your way to The last drop.

Once in the establishment you expertly made your way through the sweaty, drunken bodies to get to the area that led to Vi and her brothers' room. When you reached the door of the room you took a breath and counted to ten before knocking. A very happy Powder greeted you and your heart couldn't help but feel warm. She asked you to climb the stairs to the roof, that she would catch up with you in a few moments, and you, naïve and obedient, began to make your way to the roof of the bar. Once Powder closed the door, Claggor and Mylo stared at her big smile.

"What are you planning, you idiot? You know Vi's on the roof and they're not getting along lately" Mylo scolded with annoyance.

Powder just stuck her tongue out at him before walking back to her bed with a jaunty stride "If we don't help them they'll never speak up for themselves."

"But don't you think Vi?" "Shut up Mylo" "WHO ARE YOU SHUTTING UP, YOU LITTLE-...."

But while the sibling fight raged downstairs, you were fighting your own battle on the roof, for when Violet heard footsteps she turned her head, thinking it was Powder worrying about her again. The last thing she expected to find was you. So now you both stare at each other with wide eyes and bated breath. And that's when it hits you. Powder never needed help, Ekko wasn't nervous because you didn't want to help her friend, but because of this. "Damn evil kids" you think.

It takes a moment, but it feels like an eternity before you greet her. But to her ears it's the prettiest melody she's ever heard. She answers you softly as she watches you walk up to her, your nervous eyes looking at everything but her.

"May I?..." You ask softly, pointing to the spot next to Vi, who's lost for words again, so she just nods before looking away from you. You're both a nervous wreck in your own way. They feel weird. They feel misty next to each other.

Another moment passes as they both watch the sunset.

.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry"

Your head turns to her, somewhat surprised that she decided to make the first move. However, she wasn't looking at you.

"I shouldn't have called you that..." She said with her voice shaking as she looked down at her fidgeting hands "You're not selfish, I know you care a lot about everyone and you have enough reasons to not want to participate in this" you see her clench her jaw as she tightly closes her eyes and clenches her hands one against the other in shame and regret. It takes her a shaky breath to look you in the eyes "I'm so sorry for everything I said to you, I didn't mean any of it, I don't think of you any of it, I just-" before the girl could torment herself more you hug her. You held her lovingly against you as she seemed to cling to this embrace.

“I forgive you... and I'm sorry, too.”

A shudder went through Violet's spine before she let out a sigh as she clung to you. They stayed like that for a while before sitting back down next to each other, your head against her shoulder and her hand on yours, watching the sun go down. The misty had cleared a little, leaving them feeling numb and peaceful.

"I know you'd never give us a job we couldn't handle" You decide to say quietly, afraid to break the atmosphere "That's why I'm going with you."

Violet quickly turned around, somewhere between alarmed and relieved. "You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to, but I still will" a small laugh escapes your lips as you straighten up so you can look at her "Besides, I know you idiots couldn't recognize a good haul even if you had it in front of you" you tell her with a mocking look on your face. Violet lets out a laugh before turning to you as if offended.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing?"

"Oh honey, it's not an innuendo, I know" At these last words Violet pounces on you to tickle you, something about making you pay for what you said you seem to understand. After a while, tummy aching, cheeks tense with laughter and both of you lying on the cold concrete, you and Violet stare at each other for a while.

"I missed this" admits Vi with a smile "I missed you, Sunshine" She adds, looking at you with those intense blue eyes that at that moment seemed to sparkle with the reflection of the last rays of the sun (and something more).

A tired smile spreads across your face "I missed you too".

But there, lying next to each other, the mist is slowly returning. You both realize that you are very close, you can feel Violet's breath tapping softly against your face. You both notice every freckle, scar or blemish on the other's face. Vi can't help herself and places her hand on your cheek, caressing it with her thumb. You gently place your hand on hers, holding her hand, appreciating her affection.

Neither of them can tell which is whose end, which is left and which is right. They only know that they are side by side, happy and at peace. They only know that, by inertia or their own will (honestly they don't care, they are too misty and too much in love) their faces are getting closer and closer.

Because there on the roof, lying next to each other after patching things up, with the orange sky in the background, they share their first kiss.

It's no big deal. They're just little girls learning what a kiss is. But here's the thing; a kiss doesn't have to be good to be valuable. It serves no real purpose. It is valued only for the person with whom it is shared.

And in this case, neither of them could care less about the quality of the kiss. They were happy having their first kiss with their best friend. With the girl they love.

They couldn't care less, because they are too misty and too much in love.

But little did they know about what life was about to bring them

I hope you liked it, it took me a long time to write this one, but I liked the result.

The next chapter will be based on the song "Promise" (Angst is coming). I recommend you to listen to the whole Bewitched album, since their songs are the influence of this fanfic (the title of a chapter is the name of a song). I hope you're liking it, see you! 💕

[lilacprincess7]

barca fluff

summary: Pau and Hector have to deal with the double pressure of being defenders at 18 for the club of their dreams and sitting exams to go to uni. Marc and Lamine notice what most of the team fails to see, that being how exhausted Pau and Hector are.

notes: joao and marc didn't leave barca in this, cause I can't deal -nor do I want to deal- with their absence, the afformantioned four are all 18 in this

warnings: first ever fic (constructive critisism wanted), english ain't my first language

Anyone would say that it was just another normal week for the barca players. And for the most part it was. The only relatively different thing was that the team had organized to have a bbq at Dani's backyard on Thursday afternoon. Back to Tuesday, Lamine woke up like every other morning, got dressed and headed out to go to training. Upon his arrival at the parking lot he saw Marc getting out of his own car. After parking he got out and greeted his friend.

"Hey bro, what's up?" asked Marc, with the energy that at this point defined him.

"Nothing much, hermano. The basic really. Keyne being energetic and mum trying to calm him down. You?" Lamine replied easily.

They started walking towards the locker room.

"I don't have anything new going on either. On another note have you heard from Pau or Hector?" Marc questioned

Lamine was left confused, he didn't know anything but lately he had a weird feeling around these two, like any moment they would colapse. He didn't phrase those thoughts. Not yet, anyway.

"No. What did I miss?"

"Nah, you didn't actually miss something that's the thing. I've been worried about them. They are both so stressed lately I thought maybe you spoke to them. My messages have been left to delivered since Friday." Marc admited truthfully.

Lamine verified Marc's worry with what he said next.

"I haven't spoken to them either. But I understand your worry. Maybe the were just studying during the weekend and didn't pay attention."

"I guess, let's keep our eyes open though, si?" Marc suggested

"Si" Lamine agreed

By now they had reached the locker room. Loud greetings were shouted back and forth as per usual. They went and sat by Pau and Hector who had just finished getting changed.

"Hey..." Pau greeted them, less energetic than usual.

A quiet 'hola' came from Hector who was on his phone going through messages he hadn't seen.

"Sorry I didn't reply to you Marc. I was busy with school work during the weekend" Hector informed him.

Marc, not missing a beat replied:"Don't worry 'bout it. I was just checking in on you."

After they chatted for a while there came the voice of the coach. Hansi at this point was more of a strict -during training only- father rather than a coach. He explained to them what the would be doing for the day and they all headed out to the training pitch.

Training came and went, with nothing quite outstanding happening. The only different thing was the energy and that wasn't something few realized. Pau and Hector both seemed to go through drills just fine, their teasing attitude was what was missing. Lamine and Marc exchange a couple of glances because of the particular matter.

Wednesday was much the same, nothing extreme happening, if you count out how Felix and Ferran managed to trip eachother and went tumbling to the ground and the whole team laughing.

When Thursday evening finally rolled around everybody was getting at Olmo's place for the bbq. Dani, with the help of the 'adults' (aka himself, Araujo, Frenkie, Lewa, Tek and Hansi) cooked the meat while the rest helped set the table. Gavi, being his usual self felt that he had to get involved with the grilling and ended up almost setting himself on fire. (Thank God for Pedri who managed to solve that crisis.)

After a while the food was ready. They started chatting while eating, about anything and everything. Like a family would. Because in the end of the day that's what they were. When Flick arrived he was weirded out because of it. He always went out of his way to state how much he liked those familial bonds this team shared. These connections that go far beyond that those on the pitch. With the main course over, Dani went and fetched some desserts that were diet-appropriate. The 'party' was moved to the firepit. Everybody sat around in the pillowed couches, getting comfortable. They tried, keyword being 'tried', to make marshmallows but failed miserably except from Frenkie. Though in the kids books he didn't count because:

"You have done it before" and

"Not fair..."

Frenkie obviously laughed but promised to teach them.

Two voices hadn't been heard for a while. Lamine and Marc turned towards their best friends, only to find the passed out cold, cuddling against eachother calmly, their breaths even and steady.

They exchanged a glance and kept staring at the two asleep forms. Concern and worry written all over their faces.

Gavi was the first to notice.

"Hey kiddos", like he was that much older, "why are you staring at Pau and Hector like they are going to vanish?"

At this, the whole vibe shifted. Marc spoke first.

"It's just... I don't know how to express this. Lamine and I have been worried." Marc confided

"Don't get us wrong. They have both been absolutely brilliant. They've been getting progresively more stressed by the day though. On top of UCL, the leaugue and the Copa, they also have to balance school and homework because they are sitting the exams for uni." Lamine continued.

The rest were left stunned. Fermin, having sat the exams himself, understood perfectly. Gavi, too, understood since he helped Fermin study sometimes but mostly helped him calm down.

"That explains many things." Gavi stated. The 'adults' looked at him weirdly. They all knew that Gavi was close to all the Masia kids. Feeling responsible for them quite often and helping them out whenever and wherever they needed. What they didn't know though was just how perceptive he was.

"What do you mean?" came the question everybody wanted to ask, from the lips of Joao.

"Remember how this past week something seemed that was missing. I noticed Hector and Pau lacking some energy and not teasing me like usual but didn't say anything. I thought that they were just having a rough week. Now that these two" motioning to Lamine and Marc with a nod of his head "mentioned I put two and two together and realised that it has been getting worse."

That short speech left them all feeling heavy. They were supposedly a family, a team that did everything together, brotherhood being the only word good enough to describe it. And yet most felt like they failed to see the two sleeping defenders getting anxious. The next to speak up was Pedri.

"The million-dollar question is how can we help them. Fermin, what do you think? You are the only one who might have some experience with this." he expressed.

"Maybe we should organize a day to help them chill a bit. Whenever I was stressed I just told Gavi and we went for a walk." Fermin admitted.

"Yeah, I remember. Sometimes we stayed out there for quite a while. There was even a time that we fell asleep and the whole Masia was searching for us." said Gavi with a smile on his lips.

"Yeah, maybe something like that could help." Lamine decided, never taking his eyes of his two tired friends.

Pau and Hector started to stir awake. They immediatelly looked back at Marc and Lamine.

"For how long have we been passed out?" Hector asked.

"An hour or so." came the answer from Marc.

"Why is everyone looking at us like that? Did you use my face as a canvas again Lamine?" teased Pau, after seeing the other playing with a pen.

"No, nothing like that." Came a calm reply from Araujo.

"Then what's going on? 'Cause something is up, I can feel it. What did you lot discuss while me an Pau took our beauty sleep? " Hector questioned lightly.

Surprisingly, the one to respond was none other than Hansi.

"Everyone has been expressing that they feel worried about you too."

"What do you mean coach? We are both fine aren't we?" responded the one.

"We are fit, focused and calm. No reason for worry" stated the other.

Lamine however had other thoughts."Excuse my language" he said while addressing the older ones "are you two for real? You are exhausted all the damn time. Wtf guys? Why won't you two just speak with the rest of us?"

The tired duo let out a sigh. It took only a glance between them to decide that they were coming clean about their feelings.

"Okay. Yes. We have both seen better days."

"Balancing football and school has gotten tiring. By a lot lately, if we are being honest"

Lewa at this point felt like he was failing these kids as a father figure.

"Why didn't you confide in us sooner? I've told you how much I love you, at this point it feels like you are my own sons. Why didn't you speak up about this?" he asked, punctuating his words as not only to not get twisted by the younger two, but also to make them open up more about this.

Hector spoke up first. "It hasn't been easy. Never really was to begin with. But lately... lately everything has been too much, the expectations from the world of football together with the pressure for school... it's been a rollercoaster without an ending."

"I second that" came a tired statement from Pau, who even though awake he kept shrinking himself close to Hector.

Hansi was the next to address the two teens.

"I think you are in need of a break."

The protesting was immediate and loud. Pau and Hector both on their feet.

"Coach don't do this please... don't bench us..."

"Yeah coach please don't do it, not again..." Hector mumbled the second part to himself.

"Oh my God you two! Coach didn't say that he was benching you. When we were talking earlier we thought of organising something to help you calm down. Nobody ever even considered what you just said." Inigo stopped the two teens.

At this the two sat back down.

"We were thinking about organizing a day at the beach. Swimming, playing volleyball and messing around. How would you feel about that?" Dani asked calmly.

Hector and Pau were left stunned for a bit but agreed. It was left in the hands of Pedri to plan it out with the help of Lamine and Marc who both knew the beaches of Catalonia like the back of their hands.

After some calmer conversations, people started to fill out. Hector, Pau and Gavi stayed for a bit more, while Dani started cleaning up. The truth is that Gavi kept the two younger put. Said he needed to talk to them before they left.

"Does it help when you talk about it?" Gavi asked thoughtfully.

"Like we did today? Yeah, more than I like to admit." came a reply from Hector.

Pau agreed easily with his best friend.

"I need the two of you to know that you can confide in me. Don't bottle up how you feel. Don't let it get to the point where you are this tired again. I know that talking about it with everyone is not always easy nor wanted. But you have Marc and Lamine by your sides. And me. Always." Gavi told them in earnest.

Hector and Pau understood what their older brother (figure) was saying. They wanted to show their understanding in the older's love language, physical touch. So they hugged him tight. Gavi held them close. He didn't have brothers by blood or younger siblings. If anything though this two plus Lamine and Marc felt quite like it. And Gavi has always been loyal. He swore right there and then, while he held the other two close to him, he wouldn't let them suffer through this, or through anything again. He vowed to always be by their side whenever needed. Asked or not.

A/n:thoughts???

[rextrafansrambles]

More Wendigo!Stan ramblings cause the AU is not leaving my mind anytime soon:

Stan thought quite long and hard about where to go. America wasn't lacking in untouched wilderness, but a lot of places were still considered great for hikes.

So, he does something he didn't expect he would ever do. Research. Sue him, he didn't want to eat anybody else cause he lost control.

So, while still coasting on the energy reserves from his last unfortunate human meal (hopefully), he scoured a few libraries for hiking guides, marking every area mentioned on the map he used for marking which states he was banned in. Until he was left with just a few places that were never mentioned, but still seemed to have quite an extensive wilderness. Seems like he would be going to Oregon.

It took almost too long to reach the forest, and even longer to get his trusted car to his chosen new home. The old lady just wasn't build for rough terrain, but she was as stubborn as her owner.

Didn't take long for Stan to meet the local weird wildlife. Turns out gnomes taste surprisingly good. And that they could be lured closer with mushrooms.

At this point he's pretty much accepted he would never see his family again. That he would be unable to tell his brother how sorry he is. Or his mum how much he loved her.

The hunger was his only companion now, and without any humans nearby to stave it off, it became even more all-consuming, though Stan held on to what's left of his humanity as much as he could. He wouldn't risk mauling some unfortunate hiker who didn't research his hiking route. He couldn't. Not again. Never again. He still feels bad about the humanoid creatures he encountered there, but they at least were more able to defend themselves. (He still felt bad though)

Meanwhile, Ford's been in Gravity Falls for a few years, loosing the battle agains Bill, and on the verge of a full-on mental breakdown. So, he ventures out to the weird mailbox in the woods to try and mail the postcard to Stan and the card disappears (and is probably delivered? He hopes?) but then it gives a ding and he pulls out a crinkled paper and an old map. The note just questions Ford why he couldn't just mail the damn letter to the recipient himself, considering he's like, in the same area.

And the map is of gravity falls and its surroundings, with an area circled and an arrow pointing at it.

Ford squints very confused at the map for a minute before the screaming starts.

[episodes-ff]

Consequences

Anaya

"Terry, where the fuck are you taking me right now?!" I spat in fear as he drove furiously through the streets. "I know you ain't over here catching a attitude with me?! Got that mothafucka questioning me about my shit!" He countered angrily as he cast a deep scowl at me. "What are you talking about? He was just taking up f-" "I know good and damn well she not really defending this nigga in my face right now." He scoffed. "You acting real fucking disrespectful, but it's all good. Imma fix that shit once and for all." He seethed with venom as I eerily reclined into the seat. Eyeing him warily, I became transfixed on how handsome he still looked through all his anger; jaw clenched, the thick veins in his arms poking as he gripped the steering wheel for dear life, how the scowl on his face had his already juicy lips protruding even more than usual. God, what I would do to kiss him right now. I hadn't even noticed before now that his ears were pierced as the small studs gleamed under the street lights.

Swerving into a long driveway, I looked around realizing we were parked at an unfamiliar house. "T-Terry? What is this, where are we?" "Don’t act scared now! Wasn't scared to flag that nigga down for his number though." Hopping out the car, he came around and yanked me against him before dragging me up to the front door. "Ow! Terry, you're hurting me." I winced trying to wiggle myself free. Loosening his grip a little bit, I tried to escape but was unsuccessful as he slammed the door shut and locked it whisking me around to face him. Cowering into myself with no escape in sight, he hovered dangerously close to my ear, his chain dangling in my line of sight as his cologne danced in my face blinding my senses. "You really fucking playing with me, huh?" He seethed in my face. "Please, I'm sorry ok? I should have let you explain and I shouldn't have let him talk to you that way." I pouted on the verge of tears as he stared deep into my soul. "Nahhhh, you ain't sorry. Not yet."

"Terr- Mmm." I pleaded before being cut off as his lips crashed powerfully into mine. Reaching up to touch his torso and chest as his body melded into mine, he let me indulge for a few beats before gripping my wrists and slamming them into the door eliciting a painful moan. Letting his tongue explore my mouth, I became dizzy off the drunken pleasure of his kiss before forcefully yanking away to catch my breath. "Baby." I moaned out, his lips cascading over my heated neck. "That’s right. I'm your baby, Anaya. And you're all mine. Don't you ever fucking forget that." He spat leaving hickeys in his wake "I know, baby. I know." I panted as he lushed kissing and sucking my neck feverishly before pausing to stare back into the depths of my eyes. "Show me then." He countered before tossing me over his shoulder and carrying me upstairs.

Feeling the heat rush to my head as he thrashed me onto the bed, I watched as he slowly stalked over to me before he yanked me to the edge of the mattress. Whipping off his shirt, he started unbuttoning his pants his gaze never straying from mine. Enveloping my lips in another deep kiss, I moaned in his embrace before feeling his hand toying with the hem of my dress. Smoothing the fabric up my thigh, he wafted his fingers over to my love before inhaling sharply at the realization that I didn't have underwear on. "You're a glutton for punishment, I see." Trying to come up with a response, I was cut short as his fingers plunged deep into my love.

Terry

"Daddyyyyy!" She moaned beautifully as she ran her nails down my spine while I continued driving into her. "Just like that, baby, take that shit." I groaned kissing the back of her knee and pushing her leg further back into her chest. Gripping onto me like her life depended on it, I held her body close delivering deep strokes to her core. "You gone let another nigga disrespect me like that again?" "Nooo, Daddy! I-I promise, baby! I promise!" "Cause what?" "Because I'm yours! I'm all yours, Terry!" She whimpered shivering as her body arched off the bed. "Baby!" Staring deep into her eyes, I bit my lip as I watched her love faces. "So fucking beautiful, Ny. It's all mine?" "Yessssss, Daddy!" Caressing my cheek, she pulled me closer staring at me with those pretty brown eyes.

Entrapped by her doe-like gaze, I secured her legs around my waist before intertwining our hands together to hold up and away. Quickly getting lost in the beauty of her soft breast bouncing back with each blow, I bit my lip before smirking at her and leaning forward to suckle her chest. "Ohhhhh fuck! That feels so good." She gasped gripping my hands tighter as my rhythm picked up. The feeling of her walls tightening around me was out of this world, but I had other interests in mind. "It felt good getting that nigga's attention? Hmm? I don't satisfy your needs?" I covertly slipped in as fucked her through the mattress. "You really, fuck! You wanna talk about this now?!" "I just want some answers, baby." I smirked devilishly moving my hand down to rub her clit. "Ouuuu, Terry! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" She whimpered in frustration as she tightened more and more around my shaft. "You already doing that, mama, and you doing so good at it too. Just look at you trying not to cum on my dick, hmm? That nigga gone fuck you like this?" I coaxed cockily as I brought up her head for just a moment to catch a glimpse at me digging her out.

I knew I was pissing her off with all the questions, but I needed her to feel how I felt earlier. Ain't no playing with Terrence Richmond. "C'mon, mama, just say it. I wanna hear you say it." "Ohhhh my god, say what?" "Look me in my eyes and tell me you not gone play with me like that again." I gritted sloshing around as I felt her love flutter around me. "I swear I won't, baby! I'm so fucking sorry, I'm so- Ohhhhhhh shit!" She cried pulling me close as she released her earth shattering orgasm all over me and the sheets. "That's right, mama. Let it all out." I talked her through it biting my lip as I came deep inside her. Heaving deeply as we recollected ourselves, I looked down at her panting form and kissed her. "I'm sorry, too, Anaya. I should have never let them play with you like that." "Thank you, baby." She simpered pulling me close as I couldn't fight the smile on my face.

**THE NEXT DAY**

Shuffling as I laid in the bed, I went to roll over and was met with nothing but space. Feeling around a little more with my hands, I finally opened my eyes to see the empty spot next to me. "Naya? Anaya?" I whispered harshly as the sun gave way to the time as I peeped she was nowhere to be found. Catching a glimpse in the corner of my eye of the pile of sheets on the floor as a reminder of last night's escapades, I smiled before sighing and shaking my head. Finally leaning up, I stretched before spotting a note on my nightstand. "Sorry, I had to leave my glass slipper behind like that. I had to head home, but I’ll text you later. A❤️." I read aloud before slowly blushing as I got up to handle my morning release. Heading downstairs to the kitchen after I got dressed for the day, I noticed my dad was eating a big breakfast as he read the paper causing me to smile in anticipation. “Morning, Pops. Ma cooked all this food?” I asked placing a hug and gentle kiss on her cheek as he smirked. "I did, but I had a little help from your friend, Anaya. Lovely girl, by the way." She smiled in her mixed accent as I froze in my tracks. At least I got my baby and a last meal…

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[nomie-11]

Chapter 9 - To Ashes

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Noise overwhelms all of Genevieve’s senses when she enters the chamber that looks as if it's been built into the very walls of Samara, and shock halts her feet at the inside of the doorway. 

What in gods’ names is going on? 

More than a dozen riders—all in black—stand along the sides of the square-shaped, windowless room that looks better suited for storage than occupation. They’re all leaning over a thick wooden railing, intently watching something in the excavated pit below. 

Genevieve takes the empty space on the rail directly ahead of her, finding herself between a veteran rider with a grizzled beard on her left and a woman who looks a few years older than her on the right. Then she looks down, and her heart all but stops. 

Xaden. And he is shirtless. 

So is the other rider as they circle each other, their fists raised like they’re sparring. But there’s no mat beneath them, only a packed-dirt floor decorated with spatters of crimson, both old and fresh. 

They’re equally matched in height, but the other rider is bulky, built like Garrick with at least 20 pounds on Xaden, who’s cut in deep, muscular lines. 

The rider swings for Xaden’s face, and Genevieve white-knuclles the rough railing, holding her breath as Xaden easily evades the punch, delivering one of his own to the opponent’s ribs. The riders around her cheer, and she has to hold back her own grin of excitement. If this is what graduation was like, she wanted in. 

This wasn’t sparring. This is straight-up fighting. And it looked fun. 

And the way Xaden hit him? He’s holding back. Toying with him the way he used to toy with her. 

“Why are they…” She asks the silver-barred lieutenant next to her, her words dying as Xaden dips and spins, avoiding another attempted hit. There’s a definite sparkle in his dark eyes as he deftly jumps back again, denying his opponent’s strike. 

“Fighting?” the woman finished the question. 

“Yeah.” She keeps her gaze centered on Xaden, who lands quick, consecutive punches to the other’s kidneys. Dirty shot, nice. 

“There’s only one pass for lieutenants this weekend,” she says, moving a little closer. “Jarrett has it, and Riorson wants it.” 

“So they’re fighting for it?” Genevieve spares a glance sideways at the rider beside her. She has short brown hair, sharp, birdlike features, and a thumbprint-size scar on her jawline. 

“Leave and pride. Lieutenant Colonel Degrensi’s rules. You want it? You fight for it. You want to keep it? You’d better be good enough to defend it.” 

“Damn… that’s sick,” Genevieve mutters, eyes still locked on Xaden as he effortlessly dodges another strike, his movements fluid and precise. 

The woman next to her chuckles, her eyes glinting with a mix of admiration and amusement. “You’ve got spunk! I like that.” 

Genevieve smirks, leaning forward a little, Xaden was going to destroy this Jarrett guy, she knows he’s not even fighting at full potential. The energy in the room, the raw tension of the fight—it feels almost electric. 

“Doesn’t matter if you’re good with your blade or your signet, either,” the woman continues. “This is a pure fist fight. Good fun as well.” She leans forward and shouts as Xaden deflects another punch, and then grabs Jarrett by the biceps and throws him to his back. “Damn. I really thought Jarrett was going to take him in less time.” 

The grin on Genevieve’s face widens. “He won’t take him at all.” She shakes her head, staring at Xaden with more than a little delight as he waits for Jarrett to gain his feet. “Xaden’s toying with him.” 

The rider turns towards her, her gaze scanning Genevieve in clear assessment, but she’s too busy watching Xaden land hit after carefully placed hit to bother with what the lieutenant thinks of her. 

“You’re her, aren’t you.” the rider asks, her appraisal pausing on Genevieve’s hair. 

“Her who?” 

“Quinn Hale’s little sister.” 

Genevieve freezes. 

“You knew my sister?” That earns her a glance. 

“You look like her.” She nods, watchful eyes sweeping over Genevieve’s facial features, the curve of her nose and the shape of her face. 

“I do.” Genevieve nods, the smile on her face returning. Xaden lands a solid hit to Jarrett’s jaw with a crack. 

“Riorson has a nasty right hook.” 

“He does.” 

“You sound pretty confident.” She turns her attention back to the fight. 

“I am.” She nods. Her confidence in Xaden is fair earned, he’s beaten her up enough times to know that he’s a mean fighter, and she’s only beaten him once despite all of her strength. Her confidence in him is so strong it’s almost arrogant. And gods, he’s beautiful. The mage lights illuminating the chamber highlight every carved line of roped muscle on his chest and abs and play off the angles of his face. And even when he turns, the hundred and eight scars that mark his back catch the light under Sgaeyl’s relic.

She stares. She can’t help it. His body is a work of art, honed to lethal perfection. She knows every inch of it over and over, and yet, she’s still transfixed like it’s the first time she’s seen him half-dressed. 

She can’t even decide if she wants to fight him or if she wants to fuck him. It honestly might be some toxic mix of both. 

It’s pointless to deny that every single part of her is attracted to every facet of him. It’s not just his body. It’s everything. Even the darkest parts of him, the parts she knows are merciless, willing to annihilate the entire world if it stood between him and a goal, pulling her in like a moth to a flame. 

Her heart pounds like a drumbeat as she watches him maneuver around the floor of the pit, playing with his opponent. She’s missed watching him in the gym, sparring with Garrick. She’s missed being with him on the mat, feeling his body over hers as he puts her on her back over and over again. She’s missed the feeling of when she puts him on his back, a dagger pressed firmly to his throat. She missed the tiny moments in the day when their eyes would meet in a crowded hallway, the bigger moments when she had him all to herself. 

She’s so in love, that for a moment, she forgets why she ever denied herself to him. Almost. 

The rider on her left shouts, and Xaden’s gaze snaps up, colliding with hers. 

Surprise registers on his features for all of a heartbeat before his opponent swings, his fust slamming into Xaden’s jaw with a sound that makes her stomach twist. 

She bites back a gasp as Xaden’s head snaps sideways with the force of the blow. He staggers backward to the cheers of the riders around me. 

“Come on, stop playing around and end it, I sounded so confident when I said you’d win this,” She says through the bond for the first time since Resson. 

“Confident?” He thumbs a drop of blood off the split in his lower lip, his gaze flashing to mine, and she could swear she saw a hint of a smile before he turns to Jarrett. 

Jarrett swings once, then twice, missing Xaden both times. Then Xaden strikes with two quick punches, putting his full weight behind them unlike before, and sending Jarrett into his hands and knees in the dirt. Jarrett’s head hangs as he shakes it slowly, blood dripping from his mouth. 

“Damn,” the rider next to her says. 

“Exactly.” Genevieve says with a wide smirk, completely aware that she isn’t in control of her facial muscles as she watches him. 

Xaden stands back as the riders fall silent in the chamber, and then he extends his hand. Jarrett’s chest heaves for a tense minute before he looks up at Xaden and shoves away the offered hand. He taps the floor twice, and while some riders around Genevieve groans—and she watches as money is exchanged between hands begrudgingly—others clap a couple times. Jarrett spits blood onto the floor, then stands upright, nodding at Xaden respectfully. 

The match—or fight, whatever label the riders decided on Genevieve didn’t know—is apparently over. 

The riders head her way, filtering past her for the door. Xaden says something to Jarrett that she can’t hear, then uses the metal rungs embedded into the stone’s masonry at the far end of the pit to climb out. He reaches the top, then takes his shirt from where it’s draped across the railing and comes in her direction, watching her with enough heat in his gaze to set her already alive body on fire. 

“Looks like he won the pass,” the woman next to Genevieve says. “I’m Cornelia Sahalie, by the way.” 

“Genevieve Hale.” Genevieve makes no effort to look away from Xaden’s steadily approaching form. 

He runs his tongue over the small cut at the side of his lower lip as if testing it, then tugs his shirt on. In one small motion his shirt covers her show, but her blood doesn’t cool. Not even the snow and harsh winds could save her now, it would probably just melt. 

“Good job, Riorson,” Lieutenant Sahalie says to Xaden. “I’ll tell the major to take you off the patrol roster for forty-eight hours.”

“Twenty-four,” he corrects her, his eyes on Genevieve. “I only need twenty-four hours. Jarrett can have the other twenty-four.” 

“Suit yourself.” She clamps Jarrett on the shoulder in consolation as he walks by, then follows him out, and they’re alone.

“You’re early,” Xaden says, but the look in his eyes is anything but condemnation. 

She lifts a brow, clenching her fists to ignore the way she itches to touch him. “Is that a complaint?” 

“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “I just wasn’t expecting you until noon.” 

“Turns out Tairn flies pretty damn fast when he’s not being held back by a riot.” She swallows, eyes dropping from his gaze to his lips. 

He’s killed for her before, so why is him fighting for a weekend pass stripping every ounce of her self-control out of her body. 

“Genevieve.” Xaden’s voice drops to that low, quiet tone he only ever uses when they’re alone. And naked. 

“Hmmm?” She tilts her head, mind fuzzy. 

“Tell me what’s spinning around that beautiful head of yours.” He moves closer, invading her space without even making a motion to touch her. 

Fuck, I want him to touch me, even if it’s a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. 

“Does it hurt?” She lifts her fingertip to the corner of her lip where his is split. 

He shakes his head. “I’ve had worse. It’s what I get for blocking with my shields to concentrate on the fight. Otherwise, I would have felt you.” His hand reaches out and brushes hers where it still lingers on her face. “A wrist brace?” 

Genevieve jerks her hand back, cramming it into the pocket of her flight jacket. Her cheeks flush, but she forces a casual shrug, even as she shifts to keep the weight off of her weaker knee. “Oh, this? No big deal. Took a tumble down some stairs.” She waves the other hand like it’s a laughable, insignificant event. 

Xaden’s eyes narrow, his gaze dropping to her wrist. His fingertips ghost along the edge of the brace peeking out of her jacket’s cuff before he pulls it out of the pocket and looks back up, his expression tightening. “You fell down a flight of stairs? This was your good arm.” 

“Yep.” Her voice is breezy, too breezy, and she moves to pull back her wrist when he moves, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting her head back before searching her eyes. “What are you thinking? Because I can read a lot into the way you’re looking at me, but I’m going to need the words.” 

Genevieve freezes under hs touch, her breath catching. She can’t summon a lie to distract him, nto when he’s this close, not when his gaze is that intense. His scent, sharp and familiar and the same leather conditioner and mint that it always is, overwhelms her defenses. Her fingers twitch against her side, aching to close the gap and pull him closer. 

The truth lodges in her throat, unspoken, as her body betrays her. Despite the aches she’s hiding, despite the distrust simmering in her heart, all she wants in this moment is him. The walls she’s carefully reconstructed, the doubt she clings to—they all feel paper-thin compared to the way his thumb strokes her jaw. 

“I’m thinking,” She starts, her voice barely a whisper, “that you’re too good at this.”

“At what?” his voice is low, a rumble she feels more than hears, and his eyes bore into hers like he’s peeling her apart layer by layer. 

“At making me forget everything else.” She laughs softly, a bitter edge creeping into the sound. “You’re dangerous.” 

“I’m about three seconds away from carrying you up to my bedroom to continue this conversation.” his hand slides along her jaw, his thumb caressing her lower lip. 

“Not your room.” she shakes her head. “You, me, a bed. Not a good idea at the moment.” 

“As I remember—which I do, often—we don’t always need a bed.” His other hand palms her waist. 

Her knees go weak for a moment. 

“Genevieve?” 

I cannot kiss this man. I can’t. I don’t trust him, but would it really be the end of the world if I kissed him and didn’t trust him? He doesn’t exactly fully trust me either. Shit. This is going to break me. I’m going to break, even if it’s just for this moment. 

“Hypothetically, if I wanted you to kiss me but only kiss me—” She starts, and his mouth is on hers before she even finishes. 

The kiss is a collision of heat and desperation, his lips rough but deliberate, stealing the breath from her lungs in a way that makes her knees wobble again. Xaden steadies her instantly, his hand firm on her waist, pulling her closer as if he can anchor them both in the chaos they’ve created. 

Her hands, traitorous as ever, find their way to his chest, fisting in the fabric of his shirt as though holding on will keep her grounded. He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her lips and shooting through her like lightning. The world narrows until it’s just him—his touch, his scent, the way he consumes her without hesitation or apology. 

It’s not enough. It never is. 

He deepens the kiss, one hand sliding down to cup her thigh, and before she knows it, he’s lifting her effortlessly, pressing her back against the cool, unyielding wall. She gasps into his mouth, her fingers instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance as he legs wrap around his waist. 

“Gods, Gen,” he mutters against her lips, his voice thick and laced with something she doesn’t want to name. “Have you been eating?” 

The question sinks into her like a stone, pulling her back into reality. For the first time, she becomes hyper aware of how her body fits in his arms—different than it used to. His grip feels firmer, steadier, as if lifting her takes less effort than it ever did before. Her thighs rest against his sides, and the lack of tension in his stance makes her chest tighten with something uncomfortably close to shame. She’s lighter now, too light, and she knows it. She can feel it in the hollowness of her muscles, the sharp angles of her frame pressing against his hands. 

Xaden doesn’t falter, doesn’t adjust as though he’s noticed, but she can feel the slight hitch in his breath, the way his fingers pause against her thigh for a fraction of a second. His strength has always been a constant, something she’s relied on whether she’s wanted to or not, but now that strength feels like a quiet reminder of her own fragility. 

It’s humiliating. 

And yet, she doesn’t let herself pull away from the ever deeper kiss, doesn’t let the discomfort take over, even as her cheeks burn and the back of her throat tightens. She steels herself, her body still pressed between his and the wall, and exhales shakily before answering. 

“Can’t really eat,” she murmurs, her voice low as she steals a breath from the kiss, “not when you’re constantly either nauseated or dealing with a migraine.” 

His brow furrows, his hands tightening slightly where they hold her as he pulls back just enough to look at her. “Genevieve—”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head quickly, not wanting the moment to spiral into something heavier, something else besides her mouth on his and his hands on her body. “Please, Xaden, just… don’t.” 

For a moment, he hesitates, his dark eyes searching hers, but then he nods, his jaw tightening. “Okay.” 

He leans in again, brushing his lips over her with a gentleness that’s almost cruel in its tenderness. “But this conversation isn’t over.” 

Her heart stutters in her chest, a wild, erratic beat she’s sure he can feel beneath her ribcage. She doesn’t trust herself to respond, so instead, she pulls him closer, her body aching for the temporary escape he offers. 

Xaden’s lips crash back against hers, but this time, there’s a different kind of urgency—something deeper, more restrained, like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will. His hands are steady, even as she clings to him like he’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart. 

The tension between them feels like a live wire, buzzing with the passion between the two of them. It’s not just the kiss—it’s the months of longing, the silence they’ve used to shield from each other.

She tilts her head, her lips parting to allow him to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against hers, coaxing a soft sound from her throat that she can’t suppress. His grip on her tightens, the pads of his fingers pressing into her thigh and hip, as though he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold her close enough. 

“Gods, I’ve missed the taste of you.” Even his mental voice comes across as a groan. “The feel of you in my arms.” 

Genevieve’s hands find their way to his face, her thumbs brushing over the rough edges of his jawline as she pulls him closer, deeper, until there’s no space left between them. He sucks her tongue into his mouth, and she whimpers at the motion. 

The slant of his mouth on hers invigorates her for the first time in ages, and all she can focus on is the feeling of his hands on her body. His hand squeezes her waist gently, then stretches up, the tips of his fingers reaching just beneath her breasts. 

But then his hand brushes the edges of her ribs—just a graze, barely enough to notice—and she flinches. It’s subtle, automatic, but it’s enough to shatter the moment. 

“We should stop.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” Gods, she doesn’t want to. She wants to ignore every warning sign and throw caution to the wind and wrap herself in his scent. She’s not ready for this to end, not ready to return to the reality where she’s fragile and they’re no longer together, even if she’s the one standing in the way. 

“We have to, or I won’t be able to keep the only kiss limitation of your hypothetical question. And you winced when I grazed your ribs.” His hand drifts down to her ass as his mouth softens, drawing on her lower lip with one last, lingering kiss. “Fuck, I want you.” 

“Then don’t stop.” She looks him in the eyes so he knows she means it. “I’m fine, let’s not stop.” 

“Genevieve,” It’s part plea, part moan, and the war in his eyes makes her chest tighten. “You have no idea how badly I want to peel these pants off your amazing ass and fuck you until you’re hoarse from screaming my name, so limp from orgasms that you can’t fathom leaving my bed ever again, and every piece of wooden furniture explodes in a mess of vines.” his hands slide from behind her head to the nape of her neck. “Until you remember exactly how good we are together.” 

“I never forgot.” It’s a whimper. Her body is still thrumming from the sensation of his body on hers. 

“I’m not talking about physically.” He leans in and kisses her softly. 

It’s sweet. Tender. Everything she doesn’t want to feel. When he’s soft with her she has to confront all the things she wants to ignore. “Xaden,” she whispers, shaking her head slowly. 

He studies her face for a heartbeat and masks the flash of disappointment with a half smile. 

“Exactly.” He gently lowers her back onto her feet, then steadies her, holding onto her waist when her knees wobble. “I want you more than my next breath, but I can’t fuck you into looking at me like you used to. I refuse to use sex as a tool to get you back.” He takes her hand and presses it to her chest lightly, as if too much pressure would break her. “Not when I want to be here.” 

Her eyes widen, and apprehension knots her stomach. 

“That’s what I thought.” he sighs, but its not defeat tightening his mouth, it’s frustration. “You still don’t trust me, and that’s all right. I told you I’m not in this for a battle. I’m winning the damned war. I’m a fucking fool for saying this, but when haven’t I been a fool when it comes to you?” 

“Excuse me?” She bristles. 

“Let me get this out.” He glances at her mouth. “I’ll kiss you whenever you want because my self-control is shit where you’re involved—”

“Whenever I want?” Her brows shoot up. What the hell is happening right now?

“Yes, whenever you want, because I’ll live with my mouth attached to yours if I do it whenever I want.” he retreats a couple of steps, and she immediately misses the feel on his hands, the warmth of his skin. “But I’m begging you, Genevieve. Don’t offer me your body unless you’re offering me everything. I want you more than I want to fuck you. I want those three little words back.” 

Oh. He wants to hear that I love him. 

“Sure, as soon as you agree to stop keeping secrets from me.” 

His sigh sounds like it’s ripped out of his very soul. “You need to trust me even with secrets for this to work. And talk about secrets? A wrist brace, Genevieve? Why did Sgaeyl tell me Tairn has a saddle on him? What’s going on with those finger splits? Why did you flinch when I touched your ribs? Why are you so stick-skinny?” 

Her chest tightens, the weight of his words crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Every one of his questions feels like a spotlight aimed directly at her weakest points, illuminating the vulnerabilities she’s worked so hard to keep hidden. For a moment, all she can do is stare at him, her breathing shallow as her heart races. 

“I’m fine.”

“Come on, Gen,” He practically begs. “You’re not fine. You’ve been saying that for weeks, and every time, it’s a bigger lie. Do you think I don’t notice? The way you move slower, the way you wince when you think I’m not looking at you? I’m not blind, Genevieve. And I’m not stupid.” 

Her throat tightens, a lump forming that she swallows down with difficulty. “I’m handling it,” she says, her voice low but sharp, a weak attempt at deflecting him. 

“Handling it?” He laughs bitterly, running a hand through his hair as he takes another step back, putting even more space between them. “You’re barely eating. You’re strapping your wrists and knees like you’ve been in a battle I don’t even know about. Train’s wearing a saddle. Are you trying to kill yourself and you just forgot to tell me?” 

“Stop,” She snaps, her voice trembling as her anger bubbles up, defensive and raw. “You don’t get to do this.” 

“Do what?” he throws his hands out, his voice rising in frustration. “Care? Worry? You’re not invincible, Genevieve! You think I’ll just stand by and let you waste away because you’re too damn stubborn to admit that something is wrong?” 

“You keep your secrets, I keep mine,” she fires back, her eyes blazing. “Isn’t that how this works? You can’t demand my honesty when you’re so good at hiding the truth yourself. We both have secrets.” 

Xaden freezes, his expression hardening into something scarily unreadable. “These aren’t secrets, Gen. You’re dying.” The words come out low and lethal, slicing through her defenses with brutal precision. “This isn’t some rebellion strategy or classified information. This is your life. Your body is breaking down while you pretend it’s fine.” 

Her hands clench into fists at her sides, shaking with the effort it takes to keep her voice steady. “I don’t need your pity.” 

“It’s not pity!” He steps closer, his voice vibrating with anger and desperation. “It’s love, Genevieve! Gods, do you even know what it’s like to watch someone you care so much about destroy themselves because they’re too afraid to let someone in? To know you’d do anything to help them, but they won’t let you?” 

The raw emotion in his voice is a battering ram against her carefully constructed walls, and for a moment, she can’t breathe. Love. He said it. She can feel it in the way he looks at her, the way his voice cracks in the exasperation she’s forced onto him, the way his hands hover at his sides, just hesitant to reach out as if he’s afraid to touch her now. 

“You think I’m afraid?” Her voice is soft but laced with venom, a last-ditch effort to push him away. “Of what, Xaden? Of you? Of us? You don’t get to lecture me about honesty when you’ve kept me in the dark about so much.” 

“Then take the first step!” He’s close now, so close she can feel the heata radiating off of him. “Show me. Ask me. Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me. But you have to let me in, Gen. Because if you don’t, one day I’ll find you broken beyond repair, and I won’t survive it.” 

Her breath catches, tears burn in her eyes but she won’t let them fall as she meets his gaze, the sincerity and pain in his expression unraveling her completely. She wants to scream, to shove him away, to crumble into his arms all at once. 

“Violet knows,” Genevieve blurts out, her voice trembling but defiant. She takes a half-step back, needing the distance to steady herself, but her back hits the wall, leaving her no escape. “She knows and she’s helping me.” 

Xaden freezes, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. His jaw tightens, his dark eyes searching hers for a crack, for some opening in the armor she’s hastily thrown up. “Violet?” he repeats, his tone dangerously low, as though he’s testing the name on his tongue to see if it tastes like betrayal. “Violet knows. She’s helping you.” 

“Yes,” Genevieve snaps, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive motion that does nothing to hide the tremor in her hands. “She’s my best friend. And she’s capable of helping me. She understands, and she’s all I need to figure it out without—”

“Without what? Without me?” Xaden’s voice rises slightly, frustration slipping through the horribly maintained cracks of his carefully constructed composure. “Without the man who would drop everything—everything—to help you? Why can’t I help you too, Gen? Why is she allowed in, and I’m not?” 

“Because it’s easier!” she fires back, her voice breaking despite her efforts to keep it steady. “Because she understands. She doesn’t look at me like you’re looking at me right now, like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces if you so much as breathe wrong.”

His expression falters for a moment, raw emotion, raw hurt flashing across his face before he regains control. “This isn’t me being delicate with you, Gen. You think I don’t know how strong you are? Gods, Genevieve, I’ve seen you take down enemies the size of dragons without blinking because that's what you had to do. But this isn’t a battlefield. This is you. And you’re falling apart right in front of me.” 

“I’m not falling apart.” 

“Then what do you call this?” He gestures to her, his hand sweeping from her wrist brace to the barely hidden bruises peeking out from beneath her shirt collar. “The brace, the weight loss, the fact that you flinched when I brushed by your ribs—what the hell is going on, Gen? Because if you don’t tell me, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

She presses her lips together, a war raging inside her. The part of her that wants to confide in him, to let him shoulder some of the burden, battles against the part of her that’s terrified of what he’ll see if she does. “It’s not your problem, Xaden.” 

“Not my problem?” He doesn’t even say it, his voice completely dropped and his mental voice a deadly quiet, a kind of calm that’s more dangerous than any shout. He steps closer, his hand moving to grip her shoulder, gently but firmly, as his other tilts her chin upwards, forcing her to look at him. “You are my problem. You’ve always been my problem. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, you’ve been the only thing I can’t ignore, can’t walk away from, can’t stop fighting for.” 

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, she hates how much his words affect her, how they burrow under her skin and nestle against the raw, aching parts of her soul. “Xaden, you can’t—”

“I can,” he interrupts, his voice fierce. “And I will. But you have to let me. You know I would do anything for you. I would burn the world to ashes for you.” 

And there’s no words that she can form to deny the truth that’s sitting on his tongue. He would, and she can see it in his eyes. He would burn the world to ashes for her.

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

Hey everyone! I've fallen into a trap and that trap is Vi and Caitlyn Kiramman from Arcane. I love them. I've been writing non-stop for the two of them (really Vi but I am writing for Caitlyn), so I've kind of put this on the back-burner, but have no fear, I will finish this even if it kills me.

Anyways, I do enjoy also writing Xaden be so pissed at Gen for being such an idiot. It's so much more fun that writing them argue over him lying--thats such a Violet move and Genevieve won't be pulling that. Either way, this is the last Xaden and Gen interaction for a while, so enjoy it while it lasts!

As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, I love hearing your feedback and thoughts! That's it for this week, and I'll see you all next week with Chapter 10!

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml , @acourtofsmutandstarlight , @kylaisra

[beware-of-pity]

Pythia Hiereia - Prologue

Masterlist I ao3 link I- Chapter one

Harry James Potter x Reader

Summary :

Only dreams can awaken consciousness. As the final battle between him and the Dark Lord draws nearer every day, Harry attends his sixth year at Hogwarts, warped by strange dreams, which he's sure someone is having a hand at. Hidden away by the shadows of the darkness in which those hands are summoned, he finds a girl not in synch with the world she dwells in. A seer, a siren, or perhaps just a girl he finds himself madly intrigued by.

Prologue: Oh, my life is changing everyday (In every possible way)

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They say dark times require dark measures. It seems that after ‘He who must not be named’ had revealed his presence in the halls of the Ministry of Magic during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, no one was willing to deny the obvious return of the Dark Lord, which had been the causing of much speculation after the Tri-Wizard tournament, and the much distressing death of the young Cedric Diggory.

Open war on the wizarding community had been declared, and no one could consider themselves safe anymore.

Harry had spent a long time laying his eyes upon the purple leaflet that an owl, who had made his way on the perch of his window, had delivered to him. The instructions were simple, or at least, those were the measures the Ministry of Magic believed to be sufficient enough to protect oneself against the dark forces of the Death Eaters on the loose to spread chaos upon the world Harry had known ever since he was but a boy.

To not leave the house unattended had been a challenge enough, seeing as he could not rely upon the presence of another wizard to accompany him wherever he went, especially at night when he would sit at the old, run-down food stand on the platform of the train station he had found a fondness for wandering around and riding the trains off. He had been precarious, looking behind his back all the time. To say he had become paranoid would be a little too over the top, but he surely could not find the ease he felt when at Hogwarts or any of the familiar surroundings, where he could be safe or could find a helping hand at the simple turn of a corner.

He could not advise his aunt and uncle of the precautionary ways to protect themselves were it to come down to it either, for no charm or spell they could master, seen by their lack of magic, and even if there was a way for him to know how to defend them, he wasn’t sure they would be too open to hearing him out. Their pride, especially his uncle’s, beget him to ignore Harry. He could not blame them, he supposed, the less they knew, the better, left them less exposed and more into safer hands were something to happen to them.

He shared letters with both Ron and Hermione in the weeks following the battle of the Department of Mysteries. Both of his friends tried to be there for him as much as they could, sending comforting words that would put him off any sort of ideas that may come to his mind in light of Sirius’ passing. A tragedy, it had been deemed, by people who could not come near comprehending just how much the death of one of the few people he considered close to him and which he held dear to his heart had truly impacted and affected him. He grieved him still, and he was sure he would for a very long time, even surer he was that he would never stop, for the love he held for the man called his ‘godfather’ could never go away from the cave in his chest that had been carved and reserved for Sirius.

Things had been chaotic, to say the least, as the dust ruffled by the events ending his fifth school year slowly settled back upon the shots that had caused it to move in the first place. As recommended by the leaflet, he, Ron and Hermione had agreed upon several security questions to detect if the friend they thought was presenting in front of them was truly them or a Death Eater masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion.

But unlike all the ruffled feathers filling the air, his had been a couple of quiet weeks. He had not heard from Dumbledore ever since the time he had tried to shield him from the photographers rounding him, flashing their cameras too close to his eyes, practically blinding him, and shouting questions which made his eyes ring in a way that pulled at his eardrums, quickly sending waves of pains through his temples, reaching his forehead, where the nerves under his skin probed him in pain and left him disoriented. He made for a horrid sight, with speckles of blood on his face, pale, with a twisted pain he had come to know very well burning at the skin of his chest, where his heart resided. 

His breath had begun to quicken; his lips had tightened from the lack of moisture he tried to recover by wetting his lips, but to no avail, it did nothing but dry his mouth in turn, while the hard knot on his troath continued to tighten in the chord of the flesh there.

Had it not been for the comforting presence of his headmaster’s hand which had been placed on his shoulder as he had been led away from the sworn of journalists, he wasn’t sure he could have endured the ordeal for much longer before he could begin to lose his mind.

He needed a remedy to clear his mind, so he wandered the streets of the little Surrey town of Little Whinging, where he had lived his entire life since being placed in the care of his aunt and uncle. Trains were fast, and the rush of adrenaline they gave him felt nice. It would blind him of all the thoughts his mind had been filling itself with lately, if only for a moment.

He then began to find himself unconsciously spending time sitting at one of the tables of the food stand, watching over the train from across the window, and the pretty waiter, who would cheekily smile his way whenever she found him looking at her, peering upon the latest copy of the ‘Daily Prophet’ he’d bring with him, reading it as slowly as he could as an excuse to spend more time in the establishment.

He wasn’t sure he liked her, liked her, in that way. His feelings had been all over the place, especially in the romantic department, which he found himself more than not fumbling his way into.

First, it was Cho, a kind girl which he knew would never find the love she had felt for Cedric in him, but he hoped she would see a new, mature one, born upon the shared feeling of the hardship and the loss of a person which they found a friend into. He had been mistaken, in that he realized, as had Cho, who liked him, she truly did, but the pain of the loss of her first love shadowed everything that could have blossomed between them.

Then it had been Ginny, the younger sister of his best friend; he found in her a wild, young nature that he grew attracted to. Ginny embodied everything in her that meant being a Gryffindor. She was brave and good at everything she settled her mind upon, and he knew she would accomplish great things if given the opportunity, such as the path he could see her embarking on in the sport they both loved and played, Quidditch. 

He had wondered, at times,  how Ron would feel about him possibly crushing upon his sister, who he knew Ron was protective of.

It had all begun, he would think, after meeting at King's Cross. Ginny developed feelings for him and talked about him all summer, or so he had heard about it from an amused and teasing Ron, and when he was rescued from his family and brought to the Burrow, she became extremely shy in his presence. Since then, they have both gone on different romantic paths, but he knew it was hard to omit what was always there and would probably leave unless they faced it.

Overall, everything was just too complicated for him to get ahold of, especially his very complicated feelings, and with everything that had gone down in recent years, he could not think of affording the time to get to know anyone. Or so he thought, he had more important things to worry about, such as the flickering light that had begun to go wild on the opposite platform on which the food stand stood. He had stood to peer over the fogged window, trying to get a closer look at the sight before him that he knew could be of no normal nature as glitter dust began to dance over the opposite platform. As a train roars past, Harry squints through the flickering window and watches the dust transform into the headmaster of the place he had come to know as his one true home, Albus Dumbledore.

Levelling his glasses, he peers across the platform. Dumbledore smiles and gives Harry a wave. Although amused, Harry tightens his lips at the sight, knowing no good could come out of Dumbledore’s presence before him.

He was right, as he told himself he always was when his second instinct kicked in. One moment, he was standing beside his mentor, looking up at the rather provocative billboard he had seen being glued there not a few days past from his usual spot at the table at the stand; the next, he was being led through a steep, narrow street lined with darkened houses. It had lasted but a moment, but once he had placed his hand on that of his headmaster, the pitched headlong tornado he had been pulled into, and that trashed him into a sound of rush and fury had his guts twisting in ways he did not know could be twisted.

Even as he walked, he reeled from the apparition he had experienced. His eyes sting with tears, his steps heavy and unsteady, he followed Dumbledore in what he apparently required his assistance with.

“Most people vomit their first time. Don’t be too hard on yourself” he heard Dumbledore call out as he walked on the front.

“Can’t imagine why that is…” he murmured to himself, trying to regain his footing.

He glances about as Dumbledore explains to him that they are in the village of Budleigh Babberton. For what, Harry could only wonder, and as such, he says when asked of his opinion of the matter.

“After all these years, I just sort of roll with it, sir.” Dumbledore smiles mildly as if pleased by Harry’s willing compliance before the old lines on his face harden once they reach the objective of this ‘mission’ they had set out. A small stone house, in which Harry could not find any appeal whatsoever. Run down, the door blasted and misplaced, the windows on its sides broken and completely not whole. Something’s wrong, and Dumbledore takes the moment to voice it.

“Wands out, Harry”

Utter devastation is what they meet as they pass through the cracked door, moving smoothly and swiftly through the entrance hall, the light coming from the tips of their wands as their guiding light, with careful steps, avoiding the many possibilities of making noises that presented themselves to them in the form a grandfather clock laying on the floor, its face cracked, a piano sagging in in the corner, keys strewn like teeth upon the rug. A copy of the Daily Prophet, the same one he had been reading at the food stand, trembles in the breeze from a half-open window, broken shards of glass, more likely being the busted chandelier no longer on the ceiling, where in its place a hollowed hole in which a wet, dark and glutinous substance dripped down from upon, strikes the word ‘chosen’, written upon the gazette.

Harry gasped softly as it hit his face, flicking down on his forehead, right on his scar, and startling him. He went to dabb at it before Dumbledore stopped him, grabbed his hand, tapped the blood with his finger, and went for a taste.

The reaction is immediate, surely recognizing that which he had just gotten a taste of. Dumbledore turns, his eyes narrowing on an overstuffed armchair. A couple of perfectly placed slippers are in front of it, giving away the hiding spot of the person they were here for. 

Moving to it, Dumbledore jabs his wand into the plump seat cushion, awakening that which had not wanted to be disturbed in the first place.

Horace Slugghorn was many things. Some would say he was a fool. 

A naive, foolish fool who priced himself too much. A fool, indeed, but a prepared one he was.

The armchair he had mutated into reveals his plump, aged form, even as he briefly gets caught between the two forms. After a bit of grumbling and wrestling his way to the parts of him unwilling to change, seams splitting and the popping of a cushion button or two, the fat old man known as Horace Sluggorn reveals himself in all his glory, looking overly mighty in a pair of well-worn lilac pyjamas.

Quite the scene, Harry thought, as he watched the two converse before he was introduced to the man and he, in turn. Sluggorn looks at him as if he were a dragon, ready to pounce upon his new shining toy to add to his prized collection as he makes the observation many made at his sight. His father’s through and through, yet when people would meet his eyes, it was his mother staring back at them.

Harry didn’t know for how much longer in his life he could hear this comparison any longer; it brought him mixed feelings, to say the least. On the one hand, perhaps it was the fact that he could not remember either the face or the eyes most talked about if only by the memories brought by the many times he had passed flipping through the album of photos of them he held as a dear possession. But also, he felt a sort of pride in carrying the face of the people who were his parents, a mix of the love they had bore one another in the living form that he was. A true testament to who Lily and James Potter were, living and breathing, walking and very much alive in the form of their son.

Throughout it all, Sluggorn stared at Harry as if hypnotised, even as he gestured for him to walk closer to the dresser crowded with photographs, which his mom is part of many, it seems. Sluggorn rambled on and on about the other students he had the pleasure of teaching, whom he had stayed close to during the years, and his best students, his best picks, and members of his prized collection.

Harry remains disinterested in the description of many of these people until his eyes land on a framed photo, where a boy, no older than he was now, stands beside the professor, clad in his Slytherin quidditch uniform, who, for Harry’s liking, resembles Sirius too much.

He had come to know the boy as Regulus Black, Sirius’ brother, and Harry, hypnotised, just as Sluggorn had been of his presence, stares at the photo intently as Sluggorn describes him, the pleasure it had been being his teacher while professing the disappointment of not being his brother’s, how he had never been able to complete his collection of teaching members of the Black family through the lack of Sirius.

Before they can continue, they’re interrupted by Dumbledore coming back from the loo, a muggle magazine in hand about knitting patterns, a jolly expression on his face as he holds it up for Sluggorn to see as he asks if he could keep it. Sure enough, he’s given the go, and before Sluggorn can protest they make a go for the door once more, now in its place again.

Not even a few steps out of the door, Sluggorn comes rushing through, yelling about relenting to the hidden proposal that Dumbledore had come to present to him, as he had, it seemed, many times before. Returning to Hogwarts to teach potions. To Harry, it seemed a rather redundant proposal, especially coming all this way to pursue and persuade a man who did not ask to be impressed or be offered more than he bargained for and one who had seemed to be more than willing to take the offer once considered through. With just one interaction, Harry had come to understand who Horace Sluggorn was. He likes his comfort, the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people as he boasts about them to others. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out. It had been, just as they returned to the spot they had apparated to, that Harry truly realised just why Sluggorn had so easily accepted that which he had so vehemently denied before.

Him. It had all made sense. Harry wondered if he was so appealing to a man like Sluggorn, who did not seem to want anything and asked for nothing more than what he needed, that he would risk it all just to acquire him in the list of students Sluggorn had the pleasure to boast about.

The was something more, which he was shielded from, yet, but one that he knew would be revealed to him soon. Not now, it seemed, perhaps not the time yet. He didn’t ask or inquire, he knew it would be futile. He trusted Dumbledore, and he knew that he did things a certain way because those same things required them.

He took a deep breath as he placed his hand on the one Dumbledore extended to him, dreading what was to come next.

What he did not expect was for his next apparition to be worse than his first. His shoes, as well as a good chunk of his trousers, were wet from the running pond in the field the Burrow was built around, he had just landed into.

He groaned as he stumbled through the muddy ground under the water, trying to regain his footing as he winced.

Once he gets close enough to the house, he glances about, until his eyes land on the fiery-haired girl he shared complicated feelings for, Ginny, as she flits briefly past an upstairs window.

His reunion with his most dear friends had been bittersweet but a happy one nonetheless, even as he greeted Ginny, with whom he shared an air of awkwardness after she gave him a great grinning hug, the moment oddly charged, a surprise to both of them, which he thinks of even as he greets her mother, Molly Weasley, who he viewed as his own.

A copy of the Daily Prophet tumbles within a makeshift campfire of blue flames, protruding by Harry’s wand, but magically doesn’t disintegrate. Harry teases the fire with the tip of his wand, where ‘The Chosen One?’ mingles with Draco’s haunted face in flames, the photo taken outside the hearing for his father’s trial.

He, Ron and Hermione catch up on what’s been happening as of late, the fact that both Hermione’s parents, muggle-born that had no idea of the intricacies of the wizarding world, and Ron’s mother deemed the idea of returning to Hogswart to be too unfit to happen.

Harry shook his head as he argued against the notion of Hogwarts ever being dangerous.

“But we’re talking about Hogwarts. Dumbledore. What could be safer?” His question was met with both of his friends sharing a knowing look. Perhaps it was his naivety or the simple trust he blindly placed in a man who had proven to be more than reliable, but Harry truly believed in the idea that as long as Dumbledore was around nothing would happen. He knew that to be true, he would stick to his gun unless proven otherwise.

He believed he knew the old man, who he viewed as his mentor, better than everyone at school; what a fool Harry was, he didn’t know the man at all, only what he was given to believe he was. But such a young spirit could not be dispirited by the harsh reality of the world he was not shown, that which was purposely hidden from him. He needed to believe, otherwise what else would there be for him to believe in?

The comforting silence in the room breaks as the three break off in laughter, and the night comes alive with the flesh of youth. That night, as Harry lies on a straw-together makeshift bed, he looks out upon the blue field, where shining stars glisten brightly, contrasting their dark surroundings.

With his nose filled with the smell of sweet vanilla candles, he falls into the depths of his dreams, where warm fingertips trace and trail upon his face. The echoes of a muffled voice lull him into the darkness he had become so afraid of before he falls into their warm embrace.

He would soon find out whose hands those fingers belonged to and why they were reaching for his dreams.

AN: I wanted to preface that i'm writing this fanfic as a birthday gift to one of my friends and that with her permission I heavily edited this to make it a x reader story for you all to enjoy. I am not the biggest fan of this franchise even though I appreciate it for what it is, its impact on fandom works, and the childhood it took me through. It's been a long time since I've interacted with this fandom (which i'm not sure it's still alive for this x reader story to enjoy) or since I watched one of the movies, so please, if you think I'm not educated enough in the source material it's mostly likely because I am actually not. I will try my best to be faithful to the events of the movies since this is canon-compliant to them (especially because I have not read the books), and I hope that with that little warning in mind, you will be able to enjoy this as much as I actually found myself while writing it.