#and one day i'll learn how to shade properly but today is not that day

[beaniemace]

colored this Wylie I doodled a bit ago :-) one day I'll learn how to shade and highlight properly but today is not that day !

[amandacanwrite]

Little Witch ☽ The Hallowed Wilds ☾ Chapter One

POV ;; Aurelia ☽ 10 y.o.

Summary ;; Aurelia enjoys the typical day of a young witch protected by the Hallowed Wilds, drawn to the border of the forest where she meets an unexpected friend.

Warnings ;; mention of moths, other insects.

Author Note ;; Hello there! This is the first chapter of my original story called The Hallowed Wilds. It's a star-crossed romance infused with southern gothic horror elements. I'll be posting one chapter per week going forward. I already have 27 chapters written, and I'm hoping by the time I'm running out of chapters I'll be back to writing it again and nearly finished drafting it in totality. If you're interested in joining the taglist for this story, you can find the link for the sign up all the way at the bottom of the post. Last thing: I am someone who doesn't get triggered by much, but it's very important to me that anyone who reads my work doesn't become inadvertently triggered because of my writing. While these early chapters are quite light, this story does get dark at times. If you ever notice something I should have issued a content or trigger warning for, please reach out to me so that I can properly apologize to you and add the warning to the list. That all said, let's hop in!!

The wilds spoke to those that could hear it. Those whose ears were kissed by mother Eterna before their bodies took shape in the womb. She didn’t kiss just any soul, though. No, there was a payment to be exchanged and worth to be proven.

The Priestess had taught this to me since I could remember. This is how my coven lived. We served Mother Eterna, and in exchange, The Hallowed Wilds protected us.

Every day for the ten years I’d lived, I woke up, thanked Eterna for another day and set to work. The work was unique each day because The Priestess encouraged us all to listen to where The Wilds told us to go, for The Wilds had a will of its own and a plan for us.

On this day, The Wilds coaxed me to the River of Rye that separated our home from the village where the Deafened lived. I had no inkling what I would do when I got there, but I was certain that my task would become clear once I arrived, or maybe even somewhere along the way. That’s how it always worked. It was just my job to be quiet and listen for a whisper or wait for a gentle tug.

I dressed for the day in linen as white as starlight, and brushed through my hair with a comb carved from a deer’s antler, given freely by the stag for our needs, as all things were for us in the forest. I slipped on a light cloak made of moth’s silk and made my way out into the day.

“Aurelia, merry meet,” one of my sisters said to me.

I smiled as I passed her, turning to walk backwards so that I could see her as I made my way into the forests. The earth tingled against the soles of my bare feet, bringing with it a feeling of familiar comfort.

“Good morning, Cressida,” I said.

She was preparing more moth cocoons for spinning, it seemed. I wondered if her fingers tingled when she woke this morning, the way mine once had when I learned I was unsuited for the delicate work. “I’m excited to see what you do with the new silk sister.”

“And I’m eager to hear stories of your adventures when you return today,” she called back as disappeared into the trees, leaving the clearing and the rest of the coven behind.

I couldn’t see the River of Rye from where I stood, but I felt a golden thread tug me ever toward it. That thread reeled me in from the center of my chest. It wasn’t far from the clearing—maybe two or three miles—I could run the entire way if I wanted to.

I decided I did want to, in fact.

Somehow, the air in our ever-unchanging forest was different today. It sparkled and fizzled in an unfamiliar way. The sun shone through the boughs of the trees and cast new colors on the ground; rose and orange where there were typically shades of yellow and green. I set into a sprint, my hair flying behind me like the mane of a spirited mare.

Those new colors streaked together as I ran, turning into smears and smudges that hinted at shapes. It reminded me of Ophelia painting our huts with her beautiful, messy fingers—how the pigments came together to form images of flowers and the moon and the night sky.

This was my home, and I loved it as much as it loved me. I cradled it in my heart, as it had always cradled me. It was an even, happy exchange of energy between us—always given freely. Always.

My feet were wet and dirty when I finally made it to the River of Rye. Squirrels and bugs dances around my ankles, having joined me on my journey somewhere along the way. I stopped just at the opening into the wide-open space of that golden river and looked out at the village where The Deafened lived.

Winter had covered their roofs in thick blankets of snow. The world was so quiet with it — the sheets of ice absorbing most sounds that came from the village.

After a lifetime of spring, I wondered what the winter felt like. The Priestess said it was bitterly cold and brought death on its breath that choked the life out of the earth, but as I stared across the expanse of golden swaying rye, I wondered if there was more to it than that.

Surely a season that looked so beautiful and serene couldn’t be so awful. And with the winter brought times of generosity, even in The Wilds. We gave gifts at solstice and spread blessings even to the Deafened in exchange for the strange tools they would leave at the edge of the forest for us.

I wanted to touch that ice that fell in flurries from the sky, leave my hand print in it, and watch as more flurries filled in that imprint. The way snow erased any evidence that someone had passed through was fascinating to me. Tracks could be left in the mud of the forests—sometimes they would be there so long they would be preserved in stone. Snow was different—ever changing, ever making something new.

I thought perhaps that was my task today—experiencing the snow. But I didn’t feel the tug of that thread through the center of my heart as I stood there thinking about snow. No, it seemed I had made it to my destination for the day.

There was a strange cleaving—I couldn’t decide if I heard it or if I felt it. But with that cleaving came a powerful gust of wind that swirled my hair and bit at my nose and cheeks like needles. I’d never felt cold like that before. It stung and I could feel blood riding to my face to compensate for it.

I winced and backed away from the tree line, gently warming my face with my hands. That golden thread pulled me again, this time to the west.

I walked for a time, following the flow of the golden river, stepping over stones and twigs. My feet were silent as sleep as I walked. The Wilds told me to sneak—told me to hide. I wondered what manner of beast or creature I would encounter. I wondered what I would need to do. Wondered if I’d need to help them.

And then he was there, just beyond the massive trunk of an old oak tree.

I hid behind that tree as he spun slowly in place, staring up at the tree canopies that cast the ground in dappled light.

I had never seen a boy before.

I knew I should run away and tell The Priestess. She always told us that the Deafened were dangerous, especially the boys. But…

But he looked so enamored with The Wilds.

It filled me with a strange vicarious happiness to see him take in the forest—see the entrance to what I called my home. An unbidden smile curved my lips as he heaved an awed breath.

With his back to me, he took off his heavy coat with all those tedious buttons, and then took off his scarf. The Wilds were in a perpetual state of spring thanks to Mother Eterna, whose fertility never ebbed. The boy dressed for his village’s winter and must have gotten warm in the vernal heat of the forest.

He wore a billed cap on his head and hair the color of damp tree bark poked out at interesting angles. Flipping at the bill, dusting his nape and his ears. It looked so soft—like a rabbit’s fur or a squirrel’s tail. I wanted to touch it.

That desire drew me out of my hiding place, that golden thread tugging me closer, reeling me in and in and in. I could almost see it glittering in that small distance between us. I took a step toward him, then another, reaching out for him.

And then he turned and saw me.

We froze at the same time.

We were silent for a long time while our eyes devoured unfamiliar sights on each other. I traced constellations in the smattering of freckles on his tanned nose. His blue eyes flicked to my white hair, to my eyes and then to my linen dress. He flushed scarlet and looked pointedly away, seemingly put off or embarrassed by something.

When he broke his gaze he also broke the spell holding me there. After feeling frozen, I remembered who I was and what I was doing.

I turned and ran.

☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾

Join the Taglist Here.

[guhamun]

@devkanya said (inbox):

"Viviiii-!" As always, Amrita's arrival is announced long before the woman herself, interrupting the man's tea time. Settling herself across from him, she deposits a little confection box in front of him, beaming. "Since it's your birthday, thought I should make ya somethin' special." In the box are small, round confections in a shade of pale blue- they are transparent at the top, their base a pale white reminiscent of sand. Within the blue of the 'water' small, delicately-spun fish 'swim'. Ari leans forward, elbows on knees, chin in hand, and grins up at him. "I learned this recipe in Inazuma, sorta. Zhuzhed it up a lil' t' suit ya a bit more. S' blueberry an' cheesecake milk jelly. If ya like it, I'll give ya th' recipe. If not... well, I can get other presents."

     HE GLANCED UP FROM the document he had been reading, forever busy as per usual even on his birthday, curious, even if his expression gave no such thing away. ❝Ari,❞ he spoke, offering his own polite greeting. ❝What is it that brings you here today?❞ He could guess, but sometimes, he had learned over time, it was best to pretend as if he knew nothing at all. Gently placing his document down, he did not waste too much time in opening the box presented to him. Inside were treats he had certainly not seen before, but they did intrigue him. Not to mention the way they were made, their overall appearance, both amused and pleased him. ❝How impressive.❞ He picked up one of the little confections, examining it thoughtfully before lips twitched slightly into a slight smile. ❝Perhaps you should open a business here with this level of skill.❞ Knowing that she wished to see if he enjoyed the taste of it rather than merely the way it looked, he slipped the confection into his mouth, chewing slowly to properly savor the taste and give his most honest assessment.

     Sweet, but not terribly so.

     Just the way he preferred it to be. Swallowing it down, he hummed. ❝This is delicious. I forgot how skilled your hand is with things like this. If you would offer the recipe, I would not refuse it.❞ Glancing back at Ari, he the contentment he felt still reflected within his gaze. ❝Thank you for this. I will be sure to enjoy them in moderation to keep them around longer on days I may desire something a little sweet.❞

[spaceyflowersart]

they would be best friends, i take no other opinion

taehun fashion inspo + johan fashion inspo + pose ref

[brinnanza]

catchin up on the unsleeping city....once brennan put the idea of ricky riding his technically-a-paladin-steed dalmatian like a horse I had to draw it so ::dabs::

[myfavoriteinvestment]

rowaelin month day 1 - can’t help falling in love

prompt: "I just realized I'm desperately in love with you"

-

Meeting Aelin for the first time, Rowan begrudged that she was beautiful. Arrogant as he could be and incessantly swaggering, but she was beautiful. There was something sweet, and yet so sharp, about her features. His eyes traced them greedily the first, the second, the third time he met her, and even today, as she set her bag next to his in the library and took a seat across from him he couldn't help it. He absorbed every bit of her; golden hair and aquamarine eyes ringed with gold. The small nose, sharp but softened by the sun kissed freckles scattered along it. The cheekbones that framed her face and lips painted a threatening shade of red.

"So, Rowan, what'll it be today?" Aelin asked, pulling out her notebook and flipping her hair over one shoulder. He didn't know it yet, but it was a nervous tic.

"The same as yesterday, Aelin. Calculus." He gave her a long suffering look and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was beautiful, but it didn't make tutoring her any easier.

"No originality." She sighed. "How disappointing."

"Let's just start."

So they began, and Rowan questioned not for the first time why she had bothered asking their teacher for a peer tutor. She was clearly skilled. She knew what she was doing. He worked up the courage and asked for the first time.

"I'm pretty busy," She explained. "I just want to make sure that I'm understanding everything and that I know what I'm doing, you know? Sometimes I'm so tired in class and I just want to make sure I'm getting everything. Sorry if that makes this seem like a waste of time." Rowan shook his head. He admired her dedication to her education. He certainly cared for his own, but not this much.

"No, I don't mind at all. I have hockey, but that doesn't really start for a while."

"Right, right, you're on the hockey team! You just don't seem like it when we're sitting in the library and you're teaching me math, you know?"

"And you don't seem like the type to be aspiring for Julliard, but here we are."

"Shhh!" Aelin exaggerated. "That's a secret!" Rowan looked at her pointedly.

As he opened his mouth to say something, another boy walked up to the table they were sitting at. Rowan recognized him. He was a year younger, in Aelin's grade.

"Chaol! What're you doing here? I'd expect Dorian at the library, but you're usually at the gym." Chaol. That was his name. And Aelin seemed to know him, seemed to be very familiar with him in fact. And who was Dorian. Rowan found that these questions rose no matter how hard he tried to tamp them down.

Chaol's cheeks were coated in a slight blush. "Could I talk to you, just the two of us?"

Did he plan on asking Aelin out? Rowan couldn't deny that no matter how much he ignored it, a part of him hoped that wouldn't happen.

"What do you say tutor? Can the two of us finish for the day?"

The other part knew that was stupid, because that was it really. He was her tutor, and maybe they were friends. Acquaintances probably. It wasn't something he wanted to think too much about. So he mumbled a yes and hoped Aelin heard him, beginning to pack his things.

And he froze, because Aelin kissed him on the cheek. Then ran off with Chaol, behind the bookshelves.

Fuck this, he thought. Fuck the searing heat in the spot her lips had pressed against his skin, fuck the fluttering in his stomach, fuck his uneven heartbeat. Fuck the lipstick smudge on his cheek. Still, he bit his lip hard enough to hurt to hold back he didn't know what. A smile? Maybe.

He stood from their table and then Aelin and Chaol popped back out of the bookshelves. "Guess who has a date?" She sing songed. The lightness in his chest turned sticky and heavy like tar and it became hard to breathe. "Me, stupid. God, don't look at me like that, it's not that confusing!"

"That's- it's nice."

"It's very nice, Rowan, thank you very much. See you tomorrow? I'll tell you all about it after you teach me fancy math, I promise." Aelin smiled and whirled around, walking out of the library with Chaol.

After that, Rowan had no choice but to come to terms with his feelings for Aelin. He didn't just think she was beautiful, she was funny and her wit and swagger was captivating. Conversations with her were entertaining and he noticed the small things she did, like the way she narrowed her eyes when she concentrated or sighed under her breath when she didn't understand.

Tutoring sessions were his time with her, but they became almost unbearable. Chaol stopped by every day within the first hour of their two hour session, dropping off a coffee that he could tell was too bitter and kissing Aelin before going about his own business.

In March, when colleges were sending acceptance letters out, Rowan would be lying if he said Aelin wasn't the first person texted when Yale sent him the letter saying he got it. The next day, Rowan found Aelin at their table, books and papers out, two cups of steaming liquid. She looked up as he set his things down and smiled wide at him.

"How does it feel to know you're going to an Ivy?" She asked, and passed him a cup. He pried off the lid and smiled when the sweet smell of jasmine tea wafted up to him. He preferred it to coffee. Aelin, though was drinking coffee, and he suspected it had far too much sugar for it to be healthy.

"It feels great. And nerve wracking, honestly." He replied. She nodded.

"Yeah, I can see how. I'd be freaked out too if I got into such a prestigious college."

"And maybe you will." He raised his brows. "Julliard?"

She sighed exaggeratedly. "I don't think I'm good enough for Julliard, truthfully."

"Well, apply next year. If only so you can come visit me at Yale." Aelin's face brightened with a mischievous smile.

"If you say so."

They settled into comfortable silence for a bit, and then Rowan started their review for the day. When it had been an hour and a half and Chaol hadn't stopped by yet, he had to ask. "Where's the boyfriend?"

"No longer my boyfriend. Looks like I have to buy my own coffee from now own." She sighed in that dramatic way of hers again. Rowan couldn't help the overwhelming relief that slammed through him. Now he could-

He could what? He could ask her out? Tell her that he knew Chaol had never bothered to properly learn her coffee order because he noticed the way she winced when she sipped the too bitter liquid? Tell her that he knew she was brilliant on the piano, though he'd only heard her play once? That she was beautiful and smart and funny and so, so brilliant, and they'd only have a year together before he left?

He couldn't do it. Or maybe you're afraid, that awful voice everyone had in their head mocked him. Rowan didn't want to admit to that either.

So all he said was, "Oh, I'm sorry." Aelin flashed a smile at him, and it twisted a knife through his gut because it wasn't her swaggering grin. It was gone sooner than it had come. They continued with their session until two hours came to an end and Aelin stood abruptly, leaving the library faster than she did before.

On May 3rd, Aelin turned 17, and Rowan remembered it. He carried her present with him all through the day. It was tucked into a small black box, her name written in gold marker in his quick scrawl. When he sat at their table at the library, he felt like the wait for her had been broken down into each separate millisecond. It was torture on his stomach, his heartbeat pulsing and fluttering in and out of it.

After what felt like decades, Aelin sat down across from him. "Hey Rowan," She smiled at him. In all the time they'd spent together, he had learned all her different smiles. There were the ones that curled at the left side of her mouth and made her shoulders pull back arrogantly. She was sure to start teasing him when her smile pulled slowly, eyes glinting mischievously. When she smiled like that, he couldn't help but grin himself.

But this smile, the one that was pure happiness, simple joy, it was his favorite. She looked at him from across the table and her eyes gleamed with it, sparkling, the shades of turquoise and gold even more vibrant. Aelin furrowed her brows and he realized he'd been staring.

"Happy birthday!" Rowan blurted out.

Aelin's brows rose and she laughed into that beautiful smile of hers and he was knocked breathless again. "Thank you, Rowan."

He reached over into his bag and pulled out the flat black box. "I got you- I don't know if- I figured-"

"Thank you, Rowan," She said again, smiling wider and coming to his side of the table and kneeling next to him so she was just a bit shorter. "Now let me see what's in her."

She traced her fingers over the box, her smile growing softer. "I love your handwriting, you know. I know you think it's messy, and it is, but it's the pretty kind of messy, you know?" She looked over at him and blushed a little. "I love your handwriting." She traced the five letters of her name written in his scrawl again.

And then Aelin opened the box, and she gasped a little. It was simple, he knew that, but most of Aelin's necklaces were, to his notice. It was something she'd be able to wear with most outfits. She pulled the gold chain out of the crushed velveteen it was laid on and looked closer at the turquoise gemstone pendant.

"I- The color, it reminded me of your eyes, so you know..." He trailed off.

She turned to look at him. "I love it, Rowan," and Aelin threw her arms around his neck, red lipstick blurring in the quickness. It was his raging pulse, it was a fiery inferno, it was his urge to kiss her. She was so near, so close to him, lavender and lemon verbena intoxicating him.

And why not? There was nothing to lose.

He pulled back from where his head was pressed to her neck, arms holding her tightly. Rowan wasn't sure whether he moved first or she did. But their mouths were upon each other, softer than he'd thought he would kiss her. But it was soft, it was sweet, it was everything he had wanted to do after sitting across from her all year long.

When Aelin pulled back from his mouth, she huffed a little laugh and rubbed his lips lightly with her thumb. “You’ve got lipstick on your lips now.” She smiled, pressing her forehead into his neck.

Holding her against his body, red lipstick smudged against his lips, standing in the school library, Rowan had never felt so calm. So warm. So happy. And he realized, with a desperate suddenness, he loved the girl in his arms.

“I love you.” He whispered against her hair. And it was peaceful.

[faulty-writes]

Alright so. For the past few days, I have just wanted to scream. Mostly because writing is a passion of mine and I'm tired of all the excuses and boundaries I've experienced with it lately. So I figured, I'd make some comfort pieces. Not sure if these are headcanons or drabbles. But all credit for this prompt goes to this lovely individual. Please excuse my icons appearances below, I made them in a rush. I'll redesign them later. Until then I hope you enjoy, at least you know faulty-writes cares.

PROMPT: You’re just lying on the floor of your bedroom, maybe listening to music, reading, or just staring up at the ceiling. Your comfort character walks in, not saying a word (or they do whatever) and just lays down next to you, maybe they join in on whatever task you’re doing if you’re doing one. Now you’re just vibing.

Nothing had been going right lately, the more you tried the worse it got. Like some invisible entity was hand-delivering you a continuous dose of karma for little to no reason. Despite being a third-year student and someone who faced down countless villains. You, for once, felt utterly defeated as you laid on your bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling.

You didn't expect anyone to knock on your door, "Pardon! Y/n, but may I have permission to enter your bedroom?" you should have known Tenya would take it upon himself to check on your well-being and show concern when he saw you laying on the floor with your arms and legs spread in such a way that it appeared you truly had just plopped yourself down and refused to move.

He was immediately by your side, lowering himself to his knees before leaning over you. Taking you in from head to toe to make sure you were physically okay. "Are you injured? Did someone grow violent and push or harm you in any way?!" his hand as usual chopped through the air as he rambled off his questions but you simply shook your head refusing to speak.

He seemed to take the hint that something was wrong, but also seemed to understand that his questions wouldn't get him anywhere. "I hope you have properly cleaned this floor prior to laying on it," you knew Tenya was a clean and tidy person, the thought of laying on a dirty floor must have disgusted him. But you hadn't fully expected him to do it, that is lay next to you. Staring at the ceiling just like you and you tried to ignore the tingles that coursed through your skin when your hands brushed against one another.

The silence was almost welcomed, and Tenya seemed to understand that perhaps all you needed was someone to sit with you through the silence and be there for the possible storm that could follow. Slowly he enclosed his hand around yours and gave it a reassuring squeeze which caused you to turn your head. You were surprised to see such a kind smile on his face but somehow you knew it meant that everything would be okay.

The television was the only thing that illuminated the room as you laid on the floor, listening to the voices echo and drone on about something you didn't know or care about. Maybe you had put the television on so you wouldn't feel alone. It had been a rotten day and though you could have easily climbed into bed, slept the rest of the night away. You found yourself not wanting to move an inch.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice your closest friend, Taishiro walk into the room. His round curvy figure maneuvering past the doorframe and a bright smile was on his face before he took notice of how dark the room was. "Enjoying yourself a little shade are ya?" he teased in his normal happy tone before he went to flick the lights back on, "I think a little sunshine looks better on ya," he joked, but his smile faded when he noticed you laying on the floor.

Taishiro normally wasn't one to pry, unless you happened to be a villain. But you should have expected him to ask you again and again what was wrong. The way his gentle hand grasped and tugged your arm, "Come on now, let's see that bright smile! It does wonders for me ya know, whenever I see ya wearing it. Well I couldn't be more blessed knowing I got to see ya so happy," you knew he meant his words, but you still didn't move nor speak and Taishiro seemed to know when he was bested. But even so, you knew that wouldn't stop him from doing what he did next.

He had insisted you would be more comfortable laying on top of him as opposed to the floor. But you remained silent all the same, even as he laid his arms over you. Gently stroking your hair and massaging the small of your back. "Ya know, ya can always tell me anything. I ain't about judging ya for what ya been through, but I also don't mind if ya wanna stay silent. Just as long as I can continue to hold ya nice and close," he said and you could feel his arms tighten around you.

You didn't recall anything after those sweet words, only the continued silence between you and Taishiro and the way your body slowly sank into his. His comforting embrace welcomed after such a rotten day. His breathing seemed to drown out the television as you closed your eyes and allowed that very sound to lull you to sleep. It was more comforting than you'd admit, feeling so safe and sound in someone's arms. Knowing you'd be protected until the morning.

Music was the one thing that seemed to comfort you after a bad day, the lyrics depicting your emotions perfectly as they echoed in your ears and allowed you to drown out the world around you. The sounds outside your door blocked out, and for good reason. You didn't want to face anyone today. In fact, you were pretty certain that you didn't want to see anyone for the rest of your life.

But your classmates seemed to notice the fact that you had locked yourself away and it seemed they had voted that Shouto Todoroki would be the one to check up on you. However, the knocks went unnoticed by you as did the fact that Shouto let himself in after he heard no response. It was almost scary to open your eyes only to see two different colored ones staring back at you, but Shouto seemed indifferent to your reaction. "Are you alright...why are you on the floor?" he questioned in his usual monotone way.

It was almost amusing when Shouto took notice of the music you were listening to, the sound faintly blasting from your earbuds. "You can't hear what I'm saying with those," he stated, but all you saw were his lips moving. He blinked and reached down, attempting to take one earbud out but you grasped his hand and simply shook your head. "Oh...I see," his posture relaxed some as he got the message and proceeded to sit next to you, crossing his legs to allow his arms to rest on his ankles.

He didn't entirely seem to understand why you were doing what you were doing. But in a way, it was nice to have his company. After a long moment, you noticed Shouto was staring at you like he was waiting for you to say or do something. You reached up, taking out one earbud to hold out to him. He seemed confused by the gesture but took it anyway, "Would...you like me to listen with you?" he questioned, though it took him a few seconds to place the earbud into his ear. Eyebrows furrowing together as the new sound echoed through his ear.

You wouldn't have thought that Shouto of all people could provide you with silent comfort. But it was nice that he was there and taking part in something you loved to do. Eventually, you convinced him to lay on the floor with you and found yourself smiling as you played song after song for him. The curious expressions that played across his face almost made your horrible day worth it. You only paused the music for a short moment to thank him, but he seemed oblivious to the reason behind your thank you. Maybe one day he'd learn just how much his presence comforted you.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 03 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (02)

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{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Icy Blue Eyes

For the first time in your life, you're wearing pants. And you don't feel less of a woman because of it, as they used to say in Wessex. Your upperbody is protected by a leather vest, Aslaug's idea since she doesn't like the idea of you trying to learn how to fight. You feel a little badass though, dressed like this, with your hair all braided up, away from your face. Hvitserk is already waiting for you, laughing at something this guy said. When he sees you, he quickly dismisses him, making his way to the middle of the open area.

“You look good. Ready to have your ass kicked a couple of times?” He says, a bright smile on his lips. He's having too much fun, but you must cut that off before you get badly hurt.

“Hvitserk, you gotta go easy on me, alright?” Raising both your hands at him, you tilt your head at the small deck behind you, where Aslaug will be. “Aslaug told me to pass it on to you that if you hurt me today, she'll wipe the floor with your face.”

He squints his eyes at you, taking a quick look at the deck. “Did she really–”

“No.” You burst out, giggling. “But really, I'm not used to it and I'm nowhere as strong as the women here so...” A man comes and hands both you and Hvitserk a sword and a shield before moving away. “Don't beat me up.”

“First of all, I was joking.” He starts, suddenly taking your sword away and throwing it on the ground. “Let's begin with some basic defense. I'll attack you, and you'll have to block me with the shield. It'll help you understand the amount of strength you'll need and how to avoid being cut down to pieces, alright?”

“Alright.” Fixing the shield on your arm, you hold it with both hands, keeping it in front of your body.

“I'll attack you from different directions so pay attention.”

“Alright.” When he starts to pace around, you do the same. You're on full alert, your eyes on the arm he's holding the sword. It doesn't take much time until he moves, bring the metal down on you. Thankfully, you think fast enough to lift the shield to protect your head, and the impact isn't as strong as you were expecting, so you managed to stay your ground. Hvitserk is holding back, obviously, and you're grateful he's being gentle.

“Good. You're fast.” He exclaims, and you giggle when you pull the shield down, staring at him. “I'll strike harder on each blow, alright? So keep in mind the next one will be worse. Protect your head and sides.”

Nodding, you're soon attacked many times. And he wasn't joking about that. Every hit is harder than the last, and you have to alternate between your skull and torso since the blows come from different angles. It doesn't take much until you start being pushed backward, and for some reason it makes you laugh.

Never in your life, you thought you'd be doing something like this. In a place like this, with people like this. They aren't mindless monsters, they're just people. They laugh, and love, and care about others. And, God, they live. They yell, and run, and fight. They're not restricted by some stupid made up rules. For you, right now, this is what means to be a Viking. To be free to do what you want, go where you want, be with who you want.

This is paradise on Earth, it doesn't matter how weird things still look in your eyes. As Hvitserk hits again, making you stumble back, a laugh escapes your lips as you realize you won't ever go back. Not even if Aethelwulf sent an army to rescue you. You wouldn't even consider it.

“Everything alright over there?” Hvitserk asks, and, still laughing, you lower the shield so he can see your face. He looks very confused but smiles anyway.

“Yeah, it's just...” Gasping, you shrug your shoulders. “This is crazy, you know? This is freedom. I'm doing this because I want to and if I want to stop, I will. And nobody will come and say I should or shouldn't do it.” Running a hand through your hair, you push some loose strands away from your face. “I feel great. My arm already hurts, but I feel–” You're cut short by another blow, quickly raising the shield again to block it. And another laugh escapes. “Shit, that was tough.” Regaining your balance, you mutter.

“Your reflexes are very–”

“This is not how you do it, little brother.” Bjorn's voice cuts in, and both you and Hvitserk turn to look at him. “If you want to teach her, do it properly.” He quickly takes a sword, walking fast over you. “Focus on your legs. Stand your ground.” He's barely even done speaking when the sword comes crashing down.

The same moment you raise the shield, his sword connects with the wood. But it's way too strong, and you're caught by surprise. You feel the shield slipping and hitting your head as you stumble down, falling on your ass. Using one arm to sustain the seated position, you close your eyes tight when you feel like the whole world is spinning insanely fast, and you feel what can only be blood flowing out. Throwing the shield away, you feel arms around you, and a voice slowly breaking into your head.

“(Y/N), talk to me. Hey.” A snap makes you open your eyes again, finding Hvitserk crouching before you. “There you are. Can you stand up?”

“Yeah.” You notice some people gathering around, so, despite the headache and the dizziness, you push yourself up, holding onto his arm for support.

“(Y/N), I didn't mean to–”

“To crack my head open? Yeah, I bet.” Cutting him off, you give Bjorn a look, raising a hand at him when he tries to approach, making him stop.

“Let's get you some water.” Hvitserk guides you away from the crowd, to a half construction near the deck. Lucky for Bjorn Aslaug isn't here yet, or else you're sure she'd lash out at him.

“That was certainly a show.” The voice makes you roll your eyes, and it shoots a sharp pain through your skull. Ivar's giggle makes you even angrier, but you can deal with it later.

He's seated on a piece of wood right beside the table with some buckets filled with water. “Here.” Hvitserk gives you a cup and you take a few sips from it. “I'll get something to clean the blood. Are you alright standing on your own?”

“I'm fine.” Nodding, you watch as he quickly disappears behind a corner, putting the cup down, and closing your eyes when you feel dizzy again. Using the table as a support, you feel your body falling, unable to sustain its weight.

You're ready to collapse on the floor when you feel hands grabbing you, tightly holding your waist. It takes a while until you notice it's Ivar, and when you use his shoulders to support yourself, your face ends up too close to his, close enough to feel his breath. His eyes, ice blue, in a shade you didn't even know existed, burn right through you, and... It takes you by surprise how Ivar doesn't push you away, violently, as you were expecting. Instead, it feels like everything slows down, and you stay there, balance regained, but his hands still holding you.

“Everything alright?” Hvitserk's voice snaps you out of it, and you awkwardly step away from Ivar, moving towards the table.

“Yeah, I'm alright.” Nodding you watch as he damps the small piece of fabric on one of the buckets before starting to clean up the blood. But when he starts to get closer to the wound, you start moving away. “Ouch!”

“Stop flinching.” He tells you.

“Yeah, stop flinching,” Ivar repeats, and you feel his hand on the small of your back, forcing you to stand still.

Roling your eyes before closing them, you decide to ignore it for now. But what you just can't ignore is how his touch burns, making itself known, felt, it doesn't matter how hard you try to pretend he's not there. It takes way too much time until Hvitserk is done, putting the fabric down and giving a better look at the wound.

“Well, it's not as bad as I thought it would be, but–”

“What happened?” Aslaug comes out of nowhere, pushing Hvitserk away and cupping your face, angry eyes scanning through the injury.

“Bjorn showed up.” He answers as you use the table to balance yourself when you feel dizzy once more. “He hit her so hard that the shield went right to her head.”

“He will listen to me. Come. You need to lie down.”

You were going to just walk, but the moment you move away from the table you feel yourself falling again, so you grab Hvitserk's arm, and you don't even have to ask him, he puts an arm around your waist to help you get moving again.

It still takes you by surprise to know Aslaug actually likes you. She makes her slaves have this patch made with some herbs to help the healing process and forces you to stay in bed for a while. The headache makes it easy to just do as she says.

The bad part is that there's pretty much only one thing in your head, and it's not how pissed you are at Bjorn. It's Ivar. Maybe the hit on your head is driving you crazy after all, but you swear he was... Different. Not anger as he usually seems. It takes two days until the headache starts to surrender, and you decide to spend another one in the calmness of your bedroom with no company other than Aslaug, who's often talking about her husband and their issues, or Hvtiserk, who comes to check on you at least once a day. He started to teach you to play Hnefatafl, and you soon learned your way around the game, even beating him a couple of times. The only reason why Bjorn hasn't come is that the Queen forbade him, and you don't mind that at all. He's the last person you want to see right now.

But then, it's time to finally leave the bedroom, only the ghost of the pain hovers over. It's almost time for dinner, and you're already hungry. Walking through the place, you find Hvitserk and Ubbe chatting, and they both look up from their drinks when they see you.

“Look who decided to show up,” Ubbe exclaims. “Feeling better?”

“Very much. I really enjoy walking without feeling dizzy.” Moving to the table, one that hangs from the ceiling by four sets of chains, you take a cup and the jar, pouring some drink for yourself before passing it to the guys. “Actually, I kinda need to steal your brother for a while, Ubbe. I need to talk about something.” Carefully not to make anything fall, you push yourself up, seating on the table and feeling as it softly swings.

“It's alright. Gotta get some stuff done before supper anyways.” Ubbe sighs and gets up, taking long sips straight from the jar. Then, he gives the now empty thing to his brother and leaves.

“So.” You start, taking a deep breath. “Take a chair and sit here.” Moving further to the center of the table, you tap the space on the wood on your left. “The last thing I need is anyone else listening.”

Hvitserk makes a face at you, squinting his eyes before getting to his feet and grabbing a chair, placing it on the place you gestured. “Is it some plan to kill Bjorn?”

“What? No.” Shaking your head, you suddenly realize what you're about to say. And for a moment you reconsider. But if you don't get this out, it'll keep annoying you. And Hvitserk will probably say you're getting everything wrong, so you'll let it go. “It's not about Ragnar's oldest son... It's about the youngest.” Lowering your voice, you stare at him, taking in the low giggle as he looks down at his hands.

“I knew it.”

“No, you didn't. Now shut up and listen.” Moving to playfully punch his arm, the table swings. Hvitserk nods with a dramatic eye-roll, holding the piece of wood to make it stop. “I... May be going crazy, but when you left me with Ivar that day, I felt dizzy and almost fell.” Looking down at your cup, you drum your fingers on the top of it. “And, I don't know, it felt... Weird.” The memory comes back, and for a moment you can feel his hands again, around your waist.

“Define weird.”

“A good kind of weird.” You mutter, drinking what's left and putting it down beside you. “He looked at me, and damn it, Hvitserk, it didn't felt like he hated me or something.” Whispering, you lean closer to him. “I've been trying not to think about it, but I that's everything I think about. Am I crazy?”

Hvitserk seems thoughtful for a while, and when you're just about to ask him to say something, he looks up at you. “Ivar's normal behavior would be to let you fall. Then he'd laugh.”

“Well, I didn't fall and he didn't laugh. So.”

“I don't know.” He shrugs his shoulders. “He hasn't mentioned you to me yet, which is a surprise by itself. I was expecting him to give me a hard time since we're kinda like friends now.”

Good. Neither of you can understand Ivar. “Great. Nobody knows what the hell is going on.”

“Am I getting this wrong or do you like Ivar?” Hvitserk leans backward, crossing his arms and resting his back on the chair.

“No...?” It sounds like a question as you mirror his position, arms crossed. “I mean, he's... Handsome...” Blushing, you look away. “I noticed that I'm not blind. But it doesn't mean I like him.”

“Who is it you like?” The other voice makes you turn to the hall immediately, watching as Bjorn comes from the main hall, pushing the leather curtains away.

Taking a deep breath, you jump to the floor, holding the chains to make the table stop swinging and then fixing everything that you dropped. “What do you want? Try to crack my skull open again?” Hvitserk hands you two cups that fell on his lap.

“I hope you can forgive me.” Bjorn comes over you, standing only a foot away, a hand grabbing one of the chains sustaining the table. “I thought you wanted to learn and–”

“I wanted to know how to defend myself and I was having a good time until you showed up.” Eager to put some distance between you two, you walk around Hvitserk, who's looking down, pretending as if he's not here. “I don't enjoy being hurt.”

“But in a real situation, you'd–”

“It wasn't a real situation, alright?” Running a hand through your hair, you feel your head getting a little worse.

“I'll leave you two to talk,” Hvitserk mutters as he stands up, giving Bjorn a look before disappearing somewhere behind you.

“That was the first time in my life that I got to hold a shield. You can't possibly think I had the strength or ability to deal with a stroke like that.” With both hands on your hip, something gets your attention. Entering the main hall, you see Ivar, standing this time, walking with the aid of a clutch. You don't know why you're biting the inside on your cheek to suppress a smile. Why do you want to smile in the first place?

“It's just that you look like one of us now and I forget that you're a Christian princess.” Bjorn's voice makes you look at him again, but it takes a while for you to bring sense to his words.

There are a lot of things you could say. That it's not about being a princess, or that you're not trying to look like them. But you don't feel like extending this argument. “Alright, Bjorn. I forgive you. Just leave the training to Hvitserk.”

“That's fine by me.” He nods, a small smile on his lips. The truth is that Bjorn didn't do that on purpose, this is just their way, and you're the one who's not used to it yet. So you feel good forgiving him after all.

“Alright.”

“But now, who were you talking about with Hvitserk?”

“Oh, that was just–”

“You two,” Ragnar calls from the main hall. “Come eat.”

You want to hug him for interrupting this conversation, so you immediately follow him, settling down next to the fire. Today it's just Ragnar's family, and at first, you do feel like an intruder. But with time, as they include you in the conversations, you feel better. You even tell a little about yourself, about your life in Wessex. It doesn't take much for you to feel Ivar's eyes on you. You try hard not to look too much, but it's like a freaking battle. Those blue eyes have some kind of power, and it's difficult to resist.

“And so it'll be until the twilight of the gods,” Ubbe says and everyone laughs, but you don't, unable to remember what they were talking about.

“Ragnarok,” Bjorn exclaims.

“Until Ragnarok. That asshole won't be coming back here.” By the tone of his voice, it sounds like there was a fight. Aslaug told you about a man that came into town, stealing and destroying things. Ubbe must have taught him a lesson.

“Ragnarok.” You mutter to yourself, playing with your empty cup.

“As if you knew anything about it.” Ivar sounds a little pissed, and you honestly don't understand why. “Don't speak as if you do.”

Chuckling, you stretch your arm, hand hovering above the flames. “There will be three severe winters.” You start, and for some reason, probably given the nature of the subject, a silence falls on. “And summers of black sun.” Retrieving your hand when it gets too hot, you fix your eyes on Ivar. You already had enough of him teasing you, and it happens that you know exactly what Ragnarok is. “Those will certainly be terrible times, and Jörmungandr, the world serpent will come lurching from the ocean, bringing up the tides until they flood the entire world.” Smiling, you lean forward, elbows on the table. Slowly, Ivar does the same, those powerful eyes not leaving yours. It feels like there's nobody else here, just you and him. “Fenrir will break loose of his invisible chains and the sky will open, so Surt, the fire giant can come, blazing through the bridge to face and crush the gods. Odin will come to battle one last time against the wolf Fenrir, and Thor will fight the serpent. He will kill it but die from its venom. And at last... The giant wolf Fenrir will swallow the sun, and the world will be forever in darkness.” Your lips break into a smile, and, at the same time, Ivar's lips do the same. He looks at you the same way he did a few days ago, only more intense. It's like he sees you now. “This is Ragnarok.” You add, voice barely a whisper.

“Perfect,” Ivar mutters, and everyone finally starts moving again.

“How did you learn all that?” Aslaug asks as Ragnar fills her cup once again.

“I was allowed to learn about your culture. Language, traditions.” Shrugging your shoulders, you feel when Hvitserk kicks your leg under the table, so you glance at him. Discreetly, he tilts his head towards Ivar, and you can't help but look straight at him. He's staring.

“That's interesting. But it feels like you're not really paying much attention to what we're saying, are you, Princess (Y/N)?” Aslaug holds back a smile, and by the look on her face, she knows exactly what's going on. And that's good, perhaps she can explain it to you later.

“Uhm...” Your eyes fall on one of the jars, which you know it's empty. “I'll get some more.” Moving quickly, before Aslaug can send one of her slaves, you grab the jar and walks to the kitchen. The girls there help you out, refilling the jar. But it happens way too fast, so you decide to go outside for a while, breathing in the cold night air.

Raising your head to look at the night sky, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes. But when you do, it's Ivar you see, his ice blue eyes shining against the darkness. Something is going on with you, and you wish you could understand. If you were as sure as you were before that Ivar absolutely hates you, I'd be easier. But now... You don't know anymore.

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla

[wornoutmouse]

Ojiro x Black reader

Sub/Dom dynamics.

Spanking and I don't mean like "haha you have big ass me likey oogaabooga" I'm talking "count for me"

But it's still really sweet ya'know? Ojiro best boi

I've tried so many times but "dick" never looks good on paper. But i want to find another word cause cock is giving me very much 🏈 fratboy🏈

"Oji~ you know that I love you?" A digitally inhanced sigh fills the room, "Yes"

It was a Saturday and you were currently waiting for your boyfriend to come home for your birthday. So what do you do to pass the time? Call him every hour of the day of course. 

"Y/N, can I please just do my job, I promise I will only focus on you when I get back." You pouted as you twirled your freshly finished twist outs, "I mean I could do that."

You could hear Ojiro hold his breath on the other side of the line, making your smirk widen, "But I won't cause I love you so much baby!" 

You knew you were wrong for doing this, you just found so much joy at his expense. From elsewhere in the house, the doorbell rang drawing your attention. "Fine, Mashiro I'm going to call you back later okay baby?" A wheeze came through the phone, "Yes babe, I love you bye!" 

You giggle at the thought of his relieved face as you tiptoe to the front door. "Is this for me?!" You sing out to no one in particular as you pick up an unmarked bag of plastic. Bringing it inside your mouth, you tear it open with your teeth, and begin to feel giddy once you see what's inside.

A while ago, you had ordered some yellow lingerie to match Oijiro's hair, and after helplessly scouring the internet, you finally found one in a good shade, nice design, and reasonable price. 

(Nah y'all know how hard it was to find a black girl in yellow lingeire? I don't understand it's not like i looked up a specific skin tone, I kept getting white people 😭 i barely found this one and what pissed me off was that i had given up and searched "black girl in white lingeire" to match Oijiro's hero costume and finally i got a cute yellow one like wtf?!)

Edit: THE DAMN LINGERIE NEVER LOADED HERE

You go to your room and try it on and after struggling with adjusting the thigh straps to your massive thighs, you were able to stand in front of your full length mirror to take pictures. "Oo look at me!" You dance a little in front of the mirror, shaking your hips.

You stop for a moment as a devious smile comes into your face. You grab your phone and set it up to take pictures. After a mini photo shoot that distracted you for about 30 minutes, you decided to send 2 of them to your ever so loving boyfriend.

You wait a few moments and gasp as you see the word seen pop up. You do a leap around the house giggling with anxiety from his reaction. 

When you got back to your bed you huff at his lack of reply. "He couldn't even give me the tease of a text bubble?!" 

That ruined your mood as you grabbed your house coat and stomped around the house cleaning up and watching TV. You don't call him after that, "He doesn't deserve my presence." 

In reality, you were in your feelings for honestly nothing. You knew he was working but it still would have been nice to get a reaction. 

*Thump*

You jump and damn near take the entire kitchen with your a you look around the seemingly empty house, "What the hell?!"

*Thump*

The sound was coming from your balcony. You peek around the doorway and your eyes go wide. "Oijiro what are your doing here?" You move to open the glass doors but stop as you make eye contact with your man.

His beautiful face was adorned with features of a rabid animal. He pressed his phone against the glass door and you gulped as you saw your picture, full screen. "Yeah, I think I'm going to let you simmer out there for a while.

*Thump*

That was the sound of Oijiro's heavy tail hitting the ground. You knew that movement, it was similar to a bunny temper tantrum but deadlier. "Open the door y/n." 

A shiver runs throughout your body at the sound of his voice. It was deep and unwavering as he blankly stared at you through the panels. Feeling down right terrified, you turn around on your heel and go on your merry way. 'y'all hear something cause I sure don't'

Click

You stop in your tracks as you hear  movement behind you.

 'he got in didn't he'

'why did I give him the key?'

You try to inconspicuously shuffle away before a hand finds its way around your neck and the soft pad of a thumb on your tongue. "That wasn't very nice of you, to leave me out there." You giggle uncomfortably as Ojiro places gentle kisses along the expanse of your neck. 

"I just thought, you needed some fresh air." The hand tightens and you can't help but grab onto his wrist in that moment. "I don't like it when you're a smart alec Y/N." In the distance, you heard the sound of his tail thumping again, shaking nearby decorations and furniture.

Grabbing your hands, Oijiro walls you to your shared bedroom and locks the door. You sit on the bed and twiddle your fingers as Ojiro stood in front of you glaring. "Does this mean you didn't like my photo or?"

Oijiro's steely eyes meet yours and you flinch, "Oh I loved it. I loved it so much that I popped a glorious erection during a meeting in front of all my peers." Oijiro's trail thumps against the floor, making you jump. "Do you know how hard it is to hide a boner when your hero costume is a robe, princess?"

Princess, that word meant business, and business meant no sitting down properly for a week. 'this birthday gonna be lit.' is all you thought as you lazily cross your legs. "I don't know, I'd assume it would be easier than spandex?"

Ojiro smirks as he drags your body to the head of the bed, holding down your hands securely. Getting on the bed Oijiro grips your chin in his hand before kissing your mouth gently. "Happy Birthday."

He sits back and recklessly opens your robe and down right moans at the sight of you. "When did you buy this?" You look away, embarrassed, "It was for your birthday but it didn't come in time." Oijiro nodded as he pulled on a thigh strap before releasing it with a loud snap.

"You look beautiful in it." For a while, Oijiro spends his time caressing you. Starting from your breasts which he sucked on generously, and your stomach that he peppered with kisses. All while avoiding your erogenous zones and making you needier.

"Ojiro!" You moaned as he scraped his teeth below your naval. Ojiro watched you with trained eyes as his hands follow your plush thighs, squeezing them every so often.

"Sending that picture wasn't very nice of you." Ojiro mumbled as he grazed over the one place you needed him to touch. "Please, touch me." 

Oijiro props himself up pulling you with him. His hands follow your waist and stop at your butt, squeezing at the mounds as he continues to kiss your skin. "I don't think you've learned your lesson Y/n." You nodded quickly and whined, "I did learn my lesson, promise!" You try to entice him by grinding against him, but you quickly realize that was the wrong thing to do as his face grows serious.

"This is a fine example of what I mean, you're impatient." Not liking that answer, you pout and cross your arms, "This is stupid it's my birthday." Oijiro flicks your nose, "Watch your attitude. You incoherently mumble again clearly defiant. "Lay over my lap."

Minutes before you could protest, he's already tugging you, face down, over his lap and delivering a smack. "Ow!" "I want you to count for me, lose place and we start over. Don't count and I'll make this longer. Do you remember your safe word?" You nod your head slowly and jump as your ass blazes with heat from another smack "1. Thank you sir."

You hate to admit it but it had been a while since you pushed Ojiro this far punishment wise so it wasn't surprising that you were shaking by 5, crying by 7, Ojiro was hard by 9, and you were extremely wet by 12. "You're taking your punishment so we'll." You gripped the sheets tightly into your hands and crossed your legs as you revived another slap, "T-Twenty, thank you s-sir."

You expected to revive more but was pleasantly surprised when you were coaxed off of Oijiro's lap and pulled in between his legs. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily for someone that hasn't been spanked. "Are you okay dear?" You sniff as Ojiro takes your hands and places kisses on your knuckles.

You run your legs together and look down at him with pleading eyes. "What's wrong baby? Haven't I taken care of you enough today?" Ojiro mocked, but you personally couldn't find anything funny. You drop to your knees and rub his legs before shortly trailing your fingers over his crotch.

Ojiro does nothing but watch, as you gently tug on the fabric of his hero costume. "Oji it's my birthday." Ojiro shrugged, "You're right it is your birthday. Don't you think you're old enough to make your own decisions?" You smirk at that and quickly pull his cock out of hiding.

You internally drooled at the sight of him. Oijiro's size was conservitively average with only girth going for him, but something about that turned you on more than if he was larger. He watches you, mouth parted as you give kitten licks to the tip of his cock, tasting the pre-cum that had accumulated.

Gingerly, he places his hand on the back of your head, urging you to continue. You smirk up at him and bat your eyelashes slowly as you trail your tongue from the base to the tip, where you bow your head, to swallow him whole.

"Shit." Ojiro pushes you all the way down and tosses his head back as he feels you constrict around him. You raise a hand to fondle his sensitive..balls😑. Causing him to jerk his hips making the tip hit the back of your throat.

As you busy yourself, you couldn't help but grind on his thick tail that rested below you. "S-Shit Y/N you're going to get your juices all over me!" You hum in response as you continue to buck your hips against the large mass of muscle.

Ojiro pulls your hair to stop you from sucking as he kisses your lips with a sigh. "You have to stop now or I won't last any longer." You chuckle as you stand to your full height and watch as Ojiro kisses your belly with closed eyes. "Wow, who knew a little bit of fabric would turn you into a 1 pump chump?!" 

Ojiro glares up at you as he smacks your ass, making you whine as it reignites the soreness from before. 

Pulling you onto the bed, Ojiro stands up, holding his tail to his face as he licks up your release. "You got me all messy." Pulling off the rest of his clothing, Ojiro climbs behind you, and he gently dips a finger into your warm cavern. "Are you ready?" He asks as he pushes your head down and pulls your waist closer to him.

He watches as your holes noticeably clench at his voice. "Please, Oji." 

The thickness was something you never got used to and though patient with foreplay, Ojiro always had a hard time holding back even if he puts only his tip in.  Arousal drips down your entrance slowly and he uses that to aid the rest of him inside. "So pretty for me." Ojiro takes hold of your underwear straps and uses that to push his way in.

Your mouth opens in a silent yell as you feel your insides constrict around him. "Relax baby, I can't move." You breath shakily and Ojiro gently waits for you to relax by rubbing sharp circles into your twitching clit. 

You angle your hips back and fuck yourself into his cock once you were ready. He guides you and drinks in all your whimpers as you attempt to go faster. "Does that feel good baby? Is my dick making you shake?" Your reply is a series of breathy 'yes's' as Ojiro picks up speed.

"Fuck you're so warm and soft!" Ojiro grabs your squishy hips as he pivots out of your weeping hole. You graon into the sheets as he leans over you. "You're creaming around me you know?" You bury your face in embarrassment as Ojiro intertwines his fingers with yours. 

You feel the pit in your stomach grow tighter as you get closer to your orgasm. "I'm coming, fuck I'm cumming." You were so close but Ojiro stops in his tracks and holds you down.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask turning your head around to look back at your smirking boyfriend. He raises both hands and slams them down on your thighs as he yanks your back, halfway off the bed. Your legs dangle off the side as the rest of you stays and I'm all honesty this was an awkward position due to your long legs.

Oijiro's trail thumps behind you and you can hear it hitting various objects as it swishes around the room. "Why are you so excited?" You ask trying your best to hold on to the thin trails off your orgasm as your heart rate slowed. "I'm just thinking about if you really deserve to cum."

You throw your head up immediately and stomp your fists. "It's my birthday can't you do this some other time?!" Ojiro pushes your face into the bed, knocking the wind out of you as he sets a brutal pace. "See that attitude right there is what I'm talking about." He shakes his head as he pounds your ass repeatedly.

You're quickly bright closer to your orgasm as the lack of oxygen goes to your brain. When he does let you up, you are coming with a loud groan as he pulls out, ruining your orgasm.

"Ojiro what the hell!" You yell, still twitching from the shocks. Ojiro looks at you shrugging as he jerks himself to completion. "You said make you cum." 

You groan stomping into the bathroom ignoring Oijiro's laughter from behind.

[mcnypieces]

There's a six-pack of cola perched on his desk. Under the cardboard holder, a note: I need to think of better gifts than cola. I know you gotta like more than that. I'll figure it out! I'll get something way cooler next time. But until then, thanks for taking care of us and Sunny. Happy Father's Day!' ( Franky

@bearxclaws // : ★ ★ ★

    A languid scratch of the neck. Enough to soothe an itch; to wipe away a beading sweat. Overworking was terrible habit even with such a mighty endurance. Only ever was there a soreness along the curve of the spine. It was that which remained human, regardless of the work pursued elsewhere. Every day coming in to rest with a core fizzled out and smoking Franky felt exhaustion. The humanity had not left him no matter how many times he had tried, tried again and adopted new oddities. Still he was worn. Still what skin still a part of him aged. It was not only malfunctions and errant skips of circuitry. There was the heat that permeated his backside, the ache of back pain and weight bearing down on the heels. As familiar as it had all been it almost felt as though it was all forgotten beneath the tinkered scrapwork. What little pain could still be felt behind him and within his mind was one of the steady reminders he needed that he was still human .

     Sigh airy and flat as Franky pulls the shades off his face and wipes the fogged haze away from his vision. At times the lenses grew clouded when he was running on steam. Carbonation only lasted so long, even properly stored away in the compartment within his abdomen. Fingers clamp lazily onto the back of the lone chair in the room, pulling it back with a hasty flick of the wrist. Be it he might’ve collapsed completely into the chair in a slump was he not so concerned about the unconscious distribution of weight snapping a leg. Prideful though he could be regarding his own functionality and physical strength, there were times he underestimated just how heavy he could be with all that weight on his shoulders. It is not long after assuming the restful position that his head snaps back up after being cast back behind him in a slump. A beam of light from windows cast along a variety of plans and other peculiar tools scattered about settle also on the creases of a note. It is hidden just so, the condensation beginning to form on the glass wetting the holder and having dripped along the page. He scrambles to pull it away, another breath of relief that the ink of the note had long since dried and would not run. Undoubtedly the quality of such was well chosen. After the countless incidents involving the ruin of Nami’s maps to frivolous mishaps it was almost a necessity to have a better ink. A quick scan of the scrawl most would hardly consider legible. It was quirked with the nicks and tears of one learning to write. But there is growing improvement, so much so that Franky finds no issue in reading it as he would any other script. For a moment he almost questions who could’ve possibly written it, yet it goes without saying that the handwriting is Anita’s. A glance to the cola and back to the letter, the tense of emotions causing him to crunch the parchment unwittingly in his fingers. It is enough to crease the note further but it is far from unreadable. He struggles for a moment to straighten it back out in a mini panic. Not long after, however, he presses the plate of his forehead to the bulk of the note just in time to avoid making a wet mess of it .

     ❝ I love this kid, damn it! ❞ A personal admittance through the flowing waterworks clouding eye frames and seeping into the individual cracks between metallic teeth. Humanity. He feels it every time he cries that exaggerated cry. It only seems to worsen the unstoppable river. The restraint it takes not to further wrinkle the edges is beyond that of any god .

     A creak as joints now filling with water move and he finds himself with a newfound energy without so much as opening one of his gifts. Quickly pulling from chair, finding a place for the note through blurred vision he wipes messily in an attempt to clear. It goes among the other ridiculous pieces and scribbles, the lot of which come from Luffy’s particular sense of creativity and various notes from crew members detailing their admiration for his work. It finds a fitting place among them, on top so that he might see it whenever he comes over to take a look on hard days. He returns quickly back to the table to clear the empty bottles from his abdomen, the clatter of glass echoing inside him as he replaces them with half his present. Within moments his hair pops loose and the steam of activity is rolling once again with a fervent crank of gears. A loud, resounding ❝ OWH!! ❞ to join the countless sounds of the room and he takes another cola to pop open and drink .

     Anita gave him the energy to keep going. She gave him purpose ── a meaning ── just as everyone else on the crew had .

     ❝ I’m gonna give her a bear hug so superrr great it’ll put all her actual bear hugs to shame!! ❞ That’s his promise to himself, considering no one else seems to be around to hear it despite its volume. A quick trip to store what remained of his gift and then, surely, he would being his rambunctious, audible pursuit of the cub .

     Nothing was going to stand in his way today .

[badgalkatzha]

YOUTUBE : Morphe Fluidity Collection Review + Wear Test by BadgalKatzha

Katherine : Hey my beautiful perfecthoodnation welcome back to my channel and another Kiki review. If you are new Hey? What's good? My name is BadgalKatzha but my alpha gang and perfecthoodnation calls me Kiki. I'm a makeup artist who loves makeup at 100. My channel is about makeup such as reviews of products, first impressions, full face of brands, challenges, transformations and more. So if you want to join the alpha gang you just have to hit that subscribe button and the bell to get notified when i upload a new video. You can also follow me in my Simstagram where i do mini makeup tutorials thanks to the IGTV feature witch mines is KikisglamTV. In this review we are doing a 8 hours wear test. So without any further do let's get started y'all.

Katherine : I don't know where to start with this video to be honest, but here i go. So in case you're not aware, makeup brand Morphe Brushes that sells very affordable products released 60 shades of foundations, 31 concealers and 15 setting powders. Their is a lot of drama with this product's cuz of the formula and the undertones. Witch i'll get there later on in the video. As you see in the screen this is the shades they have available for y'all in the website. Their customer service sucks i email them about my orders cuz they were delayed and nobody answer back. So when i got this in my mail i was migraine free. I bought all the items i'll be using for today's video nothing is PR from the brand. A full face of Morphe cost me 119.00 without shipping with shipping is like around 130.

Katherine : I give you Morphe Fluidity Foundation. For me the packaging is cheap is not something luxurious or a packaging that can make the product last as it should be. This little men cost 18.00 dollars. This is a matte formula base. Witch if you have dry skin i don't recommend you to buy this. Unless you prep your skin to the gods. Mind you even if you prep your skin. Theres always a probability of creasing or caking. So what's the tea with this foundation? The undertones and the formula itself. We have green, gray and orange undertones in this foundations. What do i mean with the greens, grays and oranges tones? Well when you blend this to your skin and set it for the day you might notice that the color of the foundation changes to this colors. But taking the time to learn how to identify your undertones can seriously help you in the makeup world from  properly choosing a foundation to knowing how to correct discoloration and enhance any hue to achieve a more even, flawless complexion. It's not so much about covering up, but more about color balance. The closest shade to my skin tone is F3.80 in the tan level with a slightly red undertone. I use foundations that haves red, pink or peach undertones cuz they're close to my skin tone. But theres a trick with this product. You can see the shade of the foundation right? Guess what? that's not the shade inside of the container so be aware to match yourself in stores.

Katherine : I prime my face with the Morphe Equalizer that cost 12.00 dollars. My skin feels very smooth right of the back. Morphe said in their website this primer blurs and softens imperfections witch i hope it does. As i blend the foundation i can totally tell you is full coverage. Allegedly this is sweatproof, transfer-resistant and water-resistant. Will see about that thru the day. They give you 2 ways to use this foundation witch is dew and matte. If you want dewy skin just use a damp of the foundation but if you go matte go full coverage. For my matte everyday look of mines i'll go full coverage. If you guys want a full video about the undertone topic just let me know down below my alpha gang. My skin is oily and not dry so will see how this foundation settles in oily skin type.

Katherine : This is the Morphe Fluidity concealer in shade C3.65 (COOL) the Morphe concealer haves 31 shades available. This product costs 9.00 dollars. I already had one side of my under eyes blended with the concealer and it feels very heavy as for the foundation it feels very light weight. So maybe when you use this just use a little amount. I like to cover my days of no sleeping with concealer so that's why i go hard on it. It does feels creamy and was easy to blend. However you need to blend this fast otherwise it will dry quickly. Listen if the foundation is already drying and doesn't have that nice blurry effect you'll definitely need to set the foundation.

Katherine : Off camera i started to blend the Morphe Filter Effect Finishing Powder in Filter #8 the brush i used was a Morphe M570 Tapered Powder Brush for blending. The powders only comes in 15 shades. The price of this powder is 12.00 dollars. I used the powder in my cheeks, forehead and chin. I can tell you this powder makes the foundation look more matte then what was before. However i'm starting to look orange-ish or peachy so i'll be using another clean brush to set into my skin more deeper the powder.

Katherine : Alright so i finish using the entire Fluidity Collection items. Now to set the look i used the Morphe setting spray witch cost me 15.00 dollars. I did my eyes, contour and highlight off camera cuz we are doing wear test y'all i don't want to make this so long. So far i think everything is holding out great. So far i haven't experience any caking or creasing witch is amazing. However that's the face for now. I would love to see later on how does the entire Morphe Fluidity Collection meshes with my fav products such as contour and highlighter. Cuz sometimes the foundation won't mesh well with other makeup products. That's totally normal is like a way to find out how good or bad is the formula or undertone. Would the foundation & concealer crease? Cake? Separate? Crack? Only the wear test will answer that. This is when the check-ins starts!!! I need to straight my hair since it looks messy as hell. That takes me about 2 hours. I have to visit my manager have a couple of meetings and for last go to Sephora to buy makeup for my next video. So I'm gonna go about my day do the check-ins and i'll see y'all back in the studio after i finish the 8 hour wear test. To let you know my final thoughts.

Katherine : Hey guys!! Just doing the first check-in!!! I'm in Rodeo Drive my manager was a total ass and cancel today's meeting. So me and the girls we are going to grab some Taco Bell. Zamn i miss my Bell Grande a lot. But y'all are not here to know what i eat ahahaha. So far the foundation hasn't cake or crease. But the concealer is creasing just a little bit. My face still feels i have makeup on but haves gone down a little. I have a suspicion is the concealer that mess the look. I have to leave you guys now BUT don't go anywhere Kikis review is not done yet their is another Kiki-Check-In coming up.

Katherine : Hey loves!!! Is 8:00 PM and this is the final check-in for the wear test. I was in my normal habitat called Sephora. I was buying new makeup and restocking some i run off. I think the foundation stills looks nice and it did mesh nicely with the contour and highlighter i used. It just feels very drying i think is the best way to explained it. But i'll expose more when i get back to my beauty studio.

Katherine : Okay guys!!! I'm back in my beauty studio to spill my final thoughts. I have the entire Morphe Fluidity Collection on my face for 8 hours and i did the check-ins for you guys to see how the products are in natural lighting outside of the beauty lights. Like i normally do thru out my day i always do touch ups but this time i didn't just for you guys. This is me sitting down after literally have 8 hours of wearing this. I think the actual foundation itself haves a soft blurring effect. However it is extremely drying. I notice as well i have small patchiness in some areas of my face including the cakey nose. I don't know if the camera is able to pick it up but off camera i can see it. As far as longwearing aspect of it their is foundation coming off around my eyebrows. The concealer girl!!! I wasn't a huge fan number one it feels heavy and cakey and it also like you need to work faster and am not a person that likes to work fast doing any type of makeup look. I want to be able to sit down do it and blended out as i please. If you have dry skin and you want to use this product first prep and hydrate your skin as much as possible. If you have oily skin like myself just do a basic prep or your everyday prep before doing your makeup. To close this chapter. I didn't like much the concealer but the foundation i give a 6 outta 10. The setting powder didn't do much it did blur a little but nothing i will say is SICKENING or mind blowing. I think this collection is okay and if you want to try this keep in my your skin type and undertones. Thank you guys for watching my Morphe Fluidity Collection review!!! I hope y'all enjoy the check-ins and hang out with me today. I'll see you guys in my next video 🐺

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Morphe Makeup Accessories By Me

Sephora Makeup Bag By @coatisims ty for letting me do this an accessorie for my post. If you want the Deco Verzion you can grab it HERE

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4485 Summary: Hanahaki disease is a condition which causes the victim of unrequited love to grow flowers in their lungs, ending in death when the roots grow too deep and eventually suffocating them if the feelings are never returned.For Tobirama it begins with a single petal.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

I’ll Breathe You A Garden

When they meet for the first time it is not a problem. Of course not, they are on opposing sides of a generation’s long feud, the reason for which has been lost to time. The moment Tobirama and Madara meet for the first time they barely even spare a glance for each other and their thoughts are nothing but derogatory and prejudiced, typical progenies of the environments they were raised in.

More than a decade passes before Madara and Tobirama are properly introduced and it is done by the one thing the two of them have in common: Hashirama. As part of the peace their clans have agreed upon, Hashirama insists that all of his special persons must know each other and get along. It is to his disappointment to discover that his brother and his best friend do not get along in the slightest, trading heated glares and pointed insults at every available opportunity. Others quickly learn to never leave the two of them alone in a room together.

Once construction of the village is completed and the two clans have separate areas to which they can retreat and stare suspiciously from behind proverbial curtains, things improve. Only barely but it still counts. Tobirama and Madara avoid each other as much as possible and both fall in to the habit of pretending the other does not exist when they are forced in to close proximity. Meetings are frequently made awkward by the tension between them but since all agree that it’s better than violence, nothing is ever done about it lest the pair of them fall back in to those undesired violent patterns. The less blood shed between two such prominent figures, the easier the peace between the rest of their kin.

It isn’t until the second anniversary of the village founding that things begin to change. As others beging to recognize the safety inherent in trading their clan pride for pride in a village, infrastructure in Konohagakure grows in necessary ways. Among the new additions is the academy which is Tobirama’s pride and joy.

And among the complications is finding teachers for the academy who have three very important qualifications. Those who have both the skill and the temperament do not always have the approval of each clan head. As it draws close to the time when they hope to begin holding classes, a snap decision is made to have the clan heads themselves all take turns giving lessons to the children of the village. The hope is that the experience will help them better understand the requirements of the position so that they may better judge who to allow in those roles.

The results are both exactly what one might expect and nothing at all like what one might expect. With Hashirama having been named Hokage, the title of clan Head falls technically on Tobirama’s shoulders and he is the only person of the group who goes to this duty with any amount of pleasure. That much might have been expected since his fondness for teaching the next generation is well known. What is not expected is Tobirama’s reaction to seeing Madara forced in to a teaching roll as well, surprisingly gentle with the children of many clans.

It is seeing Madara crouched on his heels and scowling deeply even as his hands oh-so-softly correct a young girl’s dragon seal that brings about the beginning of a sickness Tobirama has heard of only in legends. The first symptom is a strange palpitation of the heart, an off-beat thumping in his chest when Madara grumpily praises the young child and receives a beaming smile in return. Unsure what it is that caused the odd sensation or the even odder images suddenly running through his mind, Tobirama vows to leave Madara be during his shifts with the academy class. A healthy dose of suspicion is all well and good when it comes to the well-being of the children but it’s obvious that it is his own health he should be worried about.

Symptoms progress quite slowly at first. Madara is still a mule-headed ass with too much pride and Tobirama still avoids him when possible. Except that isn’t completely true. A mere week after he makes his vow Tobirama breaks it and returns to the academy to watch the older man navigate the trials of imparting wisdom on to a roomful of children from all different backgrounds. Despite having witnessed it before it still surprises him how well Madara fares in a duty none would have thought him to excel at.

When his heart skips a beat Tobirama tries hard to put it down as another fluke even as he wraps his chakra closer in to himself and settles in to continue watching. He tell himself that it is in the children’s interest that he comes back the next week and also the week after that. When they pass in the hallways and ignore each other during meetings he pretends it is only keeping the peace and not because he suddenly has the urge to hide until these strange feelings go away. As his interest grows so does his awareness of the chaos which would result should anyone know of this fascination which he cannot seem to shake.

Four months later the first petal appears.

He is in a tea house with his sister-in-law listening to Mito complain about how often her husband will stay out late to waste his pocket money in gambling dens. When she asks him a question he opens his mouth to reply only for his breath to catch on something and set off a coughing fit.

Mito waits patiently for him to catch him breath and then looks at him strangely when he uncovers his mouth to reveal a pale lavender flower petal. Tobirama looks at it strangely too; what an odd this to find in one’s throat. But it is only one petal and spring is in full bloom, so a blossom on the wind seems much more likely than some fairy tale disease of which neither of them have ever seen a real case. That he might have produced the flower himself doesn’t even occur to either one of them at the time. Conversation carries on and the incident is forgotten.

A week later he is sitting alone in his office, working on anything and everything he can to put off his visit to Hashirama’s office. His senses tell him that his brother is not alone in there and he almost has avoiding Madara down to an actual art form. So for once instead of doing his duties he is whiling away the time putting the finishing touches on a project which will not be reviewed by the council for another three weeks, his inner eye focused on the two men who he is certain aren’t actually doing anything productive. The tickle in the back of his throat doesn’t really draw his attention in any particular way. He gives a quiet cough to clear it and sets brush to parchment again, still focused on other things.

Choking on what feels like nothing but air, however, does get his attention rather quickly. Tobirama balls one fist in front of his mouth as he coughs and coughs until he’s begun to wonder about a possible allergic reaction to something. When the obstruction finally clears he spits out three petals of the prettiest blue he’s ever seen.

Tobirama looks at them in horror, a thought forming in his mind and immediately being dismissed as being fanciful. Yet he cannot deny that there is no open window for a breeze to come in through, no current in the stale air of the tower which might have blown something in to his mouth. He doesn’t remember eating any flowers or for that matter consuming anything more today than a slice of toast for breakfast. There is no logical way for these petals to have come to be inside his throat, lodged deeply enough to give him trouble breathing, yet here they are. Slowly, carefully, he opens the drawer of his desk and sets the three petals down inside then closes away the evidence.

No need to bother anyone about this yet, he thinks. Obviously his fanciful thoughts are wrong and there will be no more incidents like this one so why should he bother someone else with something so ridiculous?

Still, Tobirama leaves the tower that day without ever having gone to see his brother, important documents left with the man’s secretary to be delivered later while he leaves to head a few blocks over where a library has only recently been opened to the public. He thinks that surely research will calm his irrational fears; he even feels a faint shadow of excitement for being able to finally see what new books the other clans have brought with them.

A month later the desk in his office has a tiny collection of flower petals in a small but beautiful heap hidden away from the rest of the world. They come in every color imaginable, showing up in patterns he can’t begin to unravel, and he hate them almost as much as he loves them. Each petal causes pain now as they tear themselves up out of his lungs and force their way up his esophagus. They are impossible to breathe around and he knows that it is only by some extreme force of luck that none but Mito have yet witnessed one of his attacks. A smarter man might have thrown away the evidence but Tobirama finds himself attached to them in some strange way he can’t explain.

Hanahaki disease, he knows, is born of when one person develops unrequited feelings for another. He’s read all the symptoms and each of the legends, studied the progression of the illness, and he knows the future suffering that he is faced with. And yet he cannot help but to stroke each petal as it appears, admiring the softness and the shade. Just as he cannot help but the follow Madara with his eyes each time they are in the same room together, loving from afar a man who it seems would prefer that he did not exist.

Life is cruel in its ironies and Tobirama has always known that. Only, he had thought that he had seen all the ironies he deserved already, isn’t sure what he has done to earn this beautiful yet painful death sentence.

His final irony is as gentle as it is difficult to bear and it begins on the day Hashirama finally notices that something is wrong. For so long he has been able to keep his malady a secret – a coughing fit here or there can be written off for so many reasons – but the day he finally brings up his first flower it feels as though suddenly death is knocking at his door, leering through the windows with a patient grin. Hashirama looks at the full blossom in his hand with something akin to terror in his eyes but he doesn’t have to say anything. Tobirama knows.

Flowers mean that roots have begun to grow. Soon his lungs will be filled with them and there will be no room for air in his body, no way for him to breathe blessed oxygen around the wood and the flora growing within.

“Brother?” Hashirama’s voice is small as he plucks the gardenia from his fingers and cradles it between shaking palms. “Tobirama…since when?”

“Long enough,” he replies, unable to look at anything but flower. Gardenia for secret love. How appropriate, he thinks. But he has brought up petals of endless variety and he knows that this is only the beginning. Some part of him hopes that not all of them with have such heavy handed symbolism; he would hate to be so boring.

Across the room, Madara and Izuna watch them with looks which he has no wish to decipher. Certainly there are hints of sympathy but he has no desire to see the pity that is surely hidden close behind. The last thing he wants is Madara’s pity when it is him that Tobirama is dying for, him that he dreams of in the moments when he allows his mind to drift away and settle where it will. No, he would much rather keep to himself and allow Madara to go on pretending he does not exist. It will be easier on everyone if he simply fades away that they might forgets he was ever here.

At first it is much easier to fade away than he thought it would be, although he isn’t sure if that pleases him or not. Obviously concerned for his well-being, Hashirama is more than willing to grant him as much rest as he wishes and Tobirama spends many days working from home, avoiding the world but not the pains that it has caused him. He spends more time with both Mito and Touka than he ever thought he would and it shocks him to discover just how poorly they are both handling the situation. His cousin is nearly as devastated as his brother at the impending loss hanging over their heads and Mito – dear Mito – for all her grace, her bedside manner is utterly deplorable.

When they ask him one day if there is no chance Tobirama sips his tea and turns his head away. The roots expanding inside his lungs is nothing compared to the shriveling of his heart and there is nothing he wants less than to talk about it.

Hashirama’s questions are more pointed and his responses harder to explain.

“I’ve read up on this disease,” he says. Tobirama does not look at him.

“As have I.”

“Then you know there is a cure! A surgery! I could save your life so why won’t you let me!?”

Tobirama does not flinch as a large tanned fist comes down on table littered with dainty little blossoms, yellow daffodils for unrequited love. Still so boring and predictable but he counts himself lucky to never have choked on a rose.

“If you know what the cure is,” he murmurs, “then you know what it will do to me. Better to die than to never feel love again.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Had he meant to answer that at all he still would not have been able to. His next breath catches in his chest and Tobirama curls in to himself, wracked with a severe coughing fit that shakes his body leaves him red in the face with lack of proper oxygen. Hashirama pats his back and apologizes for yelling, tears welling in his eyes. There are almost always tears in his eyes now.

Even after he opens his mouth and spits up two full daisies, the subject is not brought up again. Tobirama is relieved, not only to be spared the embarrassment of being so obvious about his emotions but also that he will not have to struggle for the words to express them. How to explain that he fears a world in which he cares for nothing, a world where not even the tether of familial love exists to stop him from following the darkest of his thoughts? In the secret places inside him, the shadows he does not share, he knows that Hashirama is the light which keeps his feet marching along the correct path. Without the love he carries for his older brother, Tobirama knows he would not be good for this world.

The next day Hashirama brings to him his final irony and Tobirama goes to his fate with a scowl which completely disguises both the pleasure and the distaste he takes in this new change. As Touka leaves the village on a mission with great reluctance, Mito finally throws up her hands and admits that she has no skill as a caretaker.

“I can’t stand the thought of you alone,” Hashirama tells him.

He wonders what ever possessed his sibling to think that Madara, of all people, was the right man to keep him company. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that they are best friends and no matter what others say Hashirama will always think of Madara as the soft children they were when they met at the riverside. There is nothing soft about that face as Madara watches him settle on the couch, curled beneath a blanket and feeling disgustingly frail.

Getting a shinobi’s recommended daily exercise is abominably difficult when one cannot breathe through the motions.

At first Tobirama refuses to speak to his new ward, uninterested in knowing what kind of blackmail convinced him to agree to this duty. Not that he speaks very much anyway these days. More than half the time when he opens his mouth it is to vomit another blossom of red or yellow or the palest blue. Some of them have stems now that trigger his gag reflex and always have him reaching for the bucket he keeps nearby. In the end that which drives him to speak is the same thing which drove him to create some of his most infamous jutsu: boredom.

Madara retains a neutral expression most of the time and unless necessary he rarely gets up from the seat which has been turned in to his temporary workspace, where paperwork is completed during the long stretches when neither of them say anything. But when they do speak he is disturbingly gentle and Tobirama hates it, hates being treated softly.

Hates that he needs it, dying for something so stupid the way he is.

Their conversations aren’t momentous in anyway. He doesn’t truly learn anything life changing nor does he give away any information about himself that he wouldn’t reveal to another stranger. Madara grumbles about the content of this letter or stupidity of that budget request. He makes endless pots of tea and they discuss their favorite flavors, arguing the merits of black against green. In return Tobirama makes an attempt to do as much paperwork as he can without exhausting himself in between feeding Madara as many embarrassing stories as he recalls of Hashirama during their childhood. If there is anything he wants to leave behind when he passes it is the ability to remind Hashirama that he was once – and still is – the world’s biggest dork.

It feels as though time passes so much slower in the last two months of his suffering, for which Tobirama is both grateful and annoyed. It certainly isn’t pleasant to have one’s death prolonged. But after thinking about the issue perhaps a bit too much he finally admits that he is through with running and accepts every moment he can soak up of Madara’s presence, thinking it his final parting gift. Hashirama takes as much time as he can spare to be here at home but he has a village to run and it is Madara with whom Tobirama spends most of his time.

At almost exactly noon on a perfectly sunny day, Tobirama coughs up several flowers and a handful of blood.

Madara’s first reaction is to send a clone for Hashirama, of course. He helps Tobirama recline on the mountain of pillows piled up on the couch, knowing that it feels best when he uncurls his chest to make room around the roots growing inside of him. Each breath wheezes in his throat and when he tries to speak his words break on another coughing fit that brings up nearly half a bouquet.

When Hashirama arrives the handkerchief that Madara has pressed to his lips is soaked in blood.

“Do something you idiot,” the Uchiha snaps. Hashirama kneels with shining eyes and drops his head on to Tobirama’s shoulder, the very picture of helplessness.

“There’s nothing to do,” he whispers, flinching when Madara snarls.

“Bullshit! You’re a healer!”

“I’m not the one who can heal him.”

“Then who is!?”

“I don’t know!” A broken sob escapes Hashirama as he feels the body underneath his embrace shudder and writhe, struggling to breathe. “You’ve heard the legends, haven’t you? Hanahaki disease can only be cured if the person he is in love with returns his feelings.”

Brought up short, Madara frowns and turns away to pace a circuit around the living room. From his spot on the couch, Tobirama follows the man with his eyes, committing the sight of him to memory one last time. It isn’t a memory he will get to keep but it is precious just the same.

When he comes storming back over to crack a fist against Hashirama’s shoulder, Madara’s face is set in to a rictus of determination he usually saves for battle.

“How can you not know who it is?”

Rather than answer, Hashirama sighs. It isn’t for asking that he doesn’t know; he has asked a dozen times, a hundred times, but Tobirama has always believed he would prefer to go to his grave with pride. In this moment now he wonders at his own folly. What harm could it do grant them at least the peace of knowing there was nothing they could do? It wasn’t as though it would matter very much to him by tomorrow. The dead feel no embarrassment.

His mouth, when he opens it, is so full of petals that no sound comes through and they do not fall out as they always have. At long last the roots have grown too long and too wide and the short unsatisfactory breaths that he is stealing through his nose will be his last. Weakly, he looks down the garden in his lap. There are so many buds of so many colors and Madara’s attention is drawn to him as he lifts one hand to pick through them.

The tulip that he holds out is a perfect ruby red but at least it’s not a rose – still much too cliché. He knows Madara can read his intentions as he slowly lifts it and offers it to the older man, the head of the flower drooping in his lax grip. Before it can fall from between his fingers Madara catches it, cradles it gently, and stares back at him in wonder.

A tulip, in the language of flowers as he has been taught, is used as a declaration of love.

Madara looks between him and the red bloom with unfathomable eyes and for a moment Tobirama thinks that at least he will have the amusement of that confused face as the last sight he sees. His chest spasms as even his nose fails to draw breath, his vitals racing in protest. The human body can survive for two minutes without oxygen before suffocating; he regrets having spent so much time researching the effects of it.

While Hashirama’s fists tighten in the material of his shirt, Tobirama is seconds away from giving himself over to fate when Madara furrows his brow in determination once more and, against every expectation, leans down to plant a kiss right across on his lips.

Despite his genius and his over-large vocabulary, Tobirama does not have words to describe the sensation when he opens his mouth, dripping petals like a tree in spring, and takes his first proper breath in more than a year. Inside his chest he can feel his lungs expanding as though they had never been filled to bursting with roots and stems. His heart races, thunders, skips for joy as his mind struggles to keep up with both the information and the stimulation that it is receiving.

He can breathe.

Madara kissed him and now he can breathe.

Kneeling on the floor still, Hashirama sobs like a newborn child, blubbering his way through prayers of thanks to every god he could think of. Tobirama pays him no mind since it isn’t truly all that different from his usual behavior. Instead he keeps his eyes on Madara while he gulps in giant breaths, nearly high from taking in more oxygen than he is used to now.

“So…” Madara ventures. “How come that worked but me having feelings for you for months now didn’t?”

“For how long?” he gasps in return. Tobirama feels his eyebrows attempting to merge themselves with his hairline, shocked to his very core. Madara gives him an unimpressed look that, after so much time spent in each other’s presence, he understands means that the other is hiding his embarrassment.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Madara growls.

Tobirama pauses for a moment before without warning he bursts in to laughter. He can’t say anything at all, can he? Considering the fact that he almost allowed himself to go quietly in to the next life rather than say something to the man he loved, he is the last person who should lecture another on their reticence. It feels like the first time he has laughed in an entire lifetime and he doesn’t bother to hold back even as both Hashirama and Madara look at him with wonder showing openly on their faces.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he hears Madara say. Before he can answer, Hashirama does so for him, wiping at his eyes with the corner of one sleeve.

“Hanahaki disease is born of the victim’s feelings. Just returning his affection wasn’t enough; Tobi couldn’t be cured until he knew about the way you felt.” In the next moment he is on his feet with both arms wrapped around a loudly protesting best friend. “But you did it, you saved him! Thank you! I owe you everything I have!”

“Get off me you overgrown fool!”

Without the two of them hovering over him, Tobirama slowly sits up and closes his eyes, filling his lungs and enjoying the sensation of having no obstructions in his throat. It feels amazing.

He stands up and with gentle hands he pushes the other two men apart. Then he pulls Madara to him by the collar of his shirt and drags him down in to another kiss, this time full of all the fire and feelings he very nearly died for. Caught up in each other, neither of them pay any attention to the way Hashirama can’t decide whether he wants to watch with a dreamy expression or close his eyes and tell them to get a room.

“You saved my life,” he murmurs after they finally part. “How disappointingly cliché. A terrible ending to a story.” Madara snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Only you would think of a story which ends with everyone alive as terrible.”

“Even worse: I think I owe you one. That absolutely won’t do.”

“I can think of several things you can do to make it up to me.”

Pulling up one corner of his mouth, Tobirama smirks. “I hope I hate all of them just as much as I hate you.”

They both know he means not at all.