#I fr did a coin toss for this one and it was heads
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To Capture A Demon's Heart
Mammon lovers I bestow upon you my apology fic. Please, rise up and come get your boy.
I fell for him a bit more writing this frfr
Pairing: gn!reader x Mammon (romantic feelings heavily implied, no established relationship, but don't you worry - you're working on that)
TW: Mention of Lucifer's punishments, Uhuhuh awkward discussion of infernal courting behaviors, mentions of violence, lmk if there''s anything else to add, ty!
Word Count: ~5,000
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On the rug before you lay two options: “The Wicked Woes of Demonessa” or “To Capture a Beating Heart”.
You flip over both DVD cases to skim their synopses, fingers trailing over the printed leads in all their infernal glory. You snort to yourself at the crossroads Asmodeus has supplied you with and wonder which would be better: an all-demon romance or a demon-human romance?
Ah-actually, the question should be: which would be easier to convince Mammon to watch with you?
The answer, as always, is neither. But that won't stop you from trying.
You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips at the thought of how he'll react to your movie selection tonight. He's late, but with good reason, so you'll forgive him. Punishment by Lucifer is punishment enough.
You kneel up from your position on the floor, rubbing out the pins and needles that had started to form. When all feeling returns to you, you reach under your bed to drag out the thick faux fur blanket Mammon had gifted you for your birthday this year. Custom-made, a pattern of your favorite hideously-cute zombie iguana plushies are plastered across the golden spread. You push your face into the fabric, its velvety softness tickling your skin, and inhale. It smells of the same smoky cedarwood that sticks to his skin.
You toss it onto your bed and climb up after. One-by-one you adjust your pillows so that they rest upright against the mossy wall and face the TV. You take care to put more support on your side, anticipating he'll eventually stop resisting and cuddle up to you as he often does. When you're finally satisfied with the distribution, you hop off the bed to snatch your wallet from the table nearby. You dig inside until your finger bumps into what you're looking for; a golden grimm coin.
Both titles are appealing enough that you're impartial to either, so you'll just do a coin toss. You're more interested in the cute expressions Mammon will show you tonight anyway.
You flip the coin off your thumb, catch it in your palm, and lay it flat on the back of your hand. You lift your palm and grin - it's head. “The Wicked Woes of Demonessa” it is.
A knock sounds at your door.
"Hey, Human, It's me. Open the door!" You hum to yourself, bending down to pick up just one of the DVDs. You stash both your wallet and “To Capture a Beating Heart” into your backpack and plop it into the chair farthest from the bed. You look over your room one more time and nod before walking over to open the door.
There waits your pouty demon, hair all mussed up with arms crossed over his broad chest.
"Some nerve you got, making me wait!" He huffs. You flash him a toothy smile, tugging him inside by his elbow and shutting the door behind him.
"Happy to see you too, Mam." A light flush rises to his cheeks.
"Y-yeah..happytoseeyatooidiot," he grumbles. "Did'ya pick out a movie yet?" His eyes skitter away from you to appraise your set-up.
Dimmed fairy lights, honey-scented candle sticks lit on golden candelabras, and the golden pendant he'd gifted you during your first year in the Devildom rests proudly over the collar of your pajama shirt. Everything is intentional. Everything is for him.
"Sure did!" You saunter over towards your bed and bend over to pick up the DVD case from off the rug. You go to open the case, but a lack of following footfalls distracts you. You look over your shoulder to find him fidgeting in the middle of your room.
You frown. "What's wrong Mam?"
"W-what's that smell?" His eyes flicker to and fro, scanning your space for the source.
"Uh, well I lit some scented candles. If they're too sweet for you I can turn them off, no problem." You toss the case onto your bed before heading for the coffin-shaped bookshelf in the back. You pick through a small black lace basket filled with spell tools you're borrowing from Solomon.
You forget sometimes how heightened their senses are compared to yours.
"You don't gotta go making a big deal out of it. A little sweetness ain't nothin' to the Great Mammon." He chuckles loud and proud, but you catch the way he clenches his fists at his side.
"It "ain't nothin'" if it bothers you, Mam." You admonish. You finally find the candle snuffer and lift it out of the basket. "Your comfort is my priority, alright?"
He sputters, eyes wide, and you shoot him a soft smile as you move over to the first candelabra. "Really, it's no trouble."
Before you can snuff out the first candle stick, a firm hand wraps around your wrist. "Nah, s'fine. I..I like it." Your heart does a little flip at the admission, but as you glance down at the back of his hand you frown.
"Aw, what happened here?" Your free hand traces the indentations pressed into his skin. They aren't too deep, but they seem a little aggravated.
"Tsch," he releases you to shove both his hands into his jacket pockets. A slight crinkle catches your attention as they settle into the tight space, but you'll worry about that later.
"Hey, none of that. No hiding." You place the snuffer onto the table and turn to him. You hold out your hands, palms up, and wait. Mammon can only shuffle his feet and avoid your eyes for so long.
"He's getting all creative now! Damn sadist."
You purse your lips and sigh out of your nose. Lucifer only had his brother's best interests in mind, but his methods could be awfully draconian at the worst of times. You'd seen in the group chat this morning that Mammon had tried to sell photos he sneaked out of Diavolo's private chambers. You haven't a clue of how he got past Barbatos of all beings, but you don't put it past him, he certainly is one of the most driven individuals you'd ever met. Undoubtedly, Mammon tested his luck and crossed several boundaries, but your heart aches for him. He's always hated sharing the weakest parts of himself.
"We don't have to talk about it. Will you just let me help you out a bit?" You bat your eyelashes when he finally meets your gaze. He scoffs and shrugs his shoulders.
"Can't keep your hands off me, can ya?" You quirk a brow at him, a knowing look on your face. You start to lower your hands slowly, purposefully.
"That's alright, Mam. I wouldn't want to force you." Before your hands can drop to your side, he clutches them in his own.
"Who said anything about force?! See," his hands squeeze your own, "all good to go." You drag your thumbs over the knuckles encasing your own.
"Go ahead and sit down, I'll join you in a sec." You gesture to the bed and your heart does happy little flips when he gravitates straight to the zombie-iguana blanket.
"Ya still got tha damn thing?" The question comes out soft, too soft, that you wonder if it was for you to begin with.
"Course I do. My first man gave it to me!" You can't stop yourself from laughing at the way his shoulders shoot up to his ears.
"Y-yeah," he attempts to catch himself as you walk back over to the bookshelf and dig into another basket, "It was a hassle to get it made, so don't go lettin' anybody else mess with it."
"Don't worry," you tease from the other side of the room. You can't resist the opportunity to rile up his greed, "I only take it out for our movie nights."
Sparing his dignity, you don't look up from the basket as you hear him choke a bit. When he calms down you grab the lotion-salve you'd made about a week ago, good for healing any minor wounds. Smelling of bergamot with hints of lavender, it's your proudest achievement thus far.
"Actually, speaking of our movie nights...," you stand and make your way over to the bed. Already, he's shoved off his jacket and shoes, making himself at home among the pillows. As your eyes scan his toned arms you're reminded that you quite literally have a model in your bed.
"This is the first one we've had in a while, huh?" He spreads his legs as you come closer, signaling for you to sit in between them. As you join him, his eyes soften and he holds out his hands for you to take. You're humbled by the trust he places in you.
You squirt some lotion into your hand and rub your palms together to warm it up before you reach for him. He sniffs the air and sits up a bit.
"The hells that?"
You cock your head. Does he really not like the smell this time?
"You mean the lotion?"
"Yeah! Did Asmo give you that? I don't want that flowery shit." Ah, the real issue isn't the lotion itself . Rather, that another demon may have given it to you. Despite the laugh begging to spill forth from your lips, you manage to cool your expression.
You slowly massage the cream into your skin, biting your lip at the low warning growl that leaves him. You just had to be sure. "No, Mam. Asmodeus didn't give this one to me. I made it myself." His posture relaxes considerably.
That is, until you open your mouth again.
"But, if you don't like the smell I can go give it to him. He'd probably like it, right? I can go real qu-" You don't get to finish your sentence as his hand grasps the front of your shirt, tugging you forward until you're trapped in his arms.
"Ya ain't goin nowhere." Goosebumps prick at your skin in response to this growl. It's not a warning. It's daring you to try your luck. You move quickly to return his embrace, smoothing your hands over his backside to reassure him. "You're stayin' here with me, understand?" Warmth flows through you from head to toe.
"So, you don't find the scent completely and utterly repulsive?" Your hands trail upwards to massage his shoulders, pushing and prodding the tense muscles. He flinches, but doesn't stop you.
"Ah, hold on!" Something clicks as he snaps back from you, holding you back by your shoulders. "Nobody said anythin' about being repulsed! Who said they're repulsed? Not me!"
"Oh, good!" You pull his hands off your shoulders, dropping them onto your lap as you reach over for the lotion. Again, you warm it up between your hands. "Then just sit still, alright?"
He goes down quietly, too quietly, that you make sure to watch his face for any discomfort as you reach for the first hand. A touch to his skin surprises you. His hand is rougher than you expect, but you mask your curiosity and don't hesitate to place your hands atop his. The last thing you want is for him to recede into himself when you've finally gotten this far into whatever is happening between the two of you. You can ask about the rough calluses on his palm another day.
You start with the lines indented over his fingers, carefully kneading the skin as he hisses under his breath. His eyes, a blend of ocean and golden sun, remain transfixed on where your skin meets. But, his face is marred by a deep frown that makes your blood run cold. Did you overstep somewhere?
"What's running through your mind?" You work your way onto his palm, tenderly rubbing the faded scars littered across the expanse of skin. The lotion can't heal something that has already come to pass. Nor can you, but you'll hold him here for as long as he'll let you.
A sigh leaves him. "Don't go treatin' me like I'm fragile. I'm supposed to protect you, got it?"
He's right, he's not fragile. Beneath the glamor he's taut, tough skin, with sharp fangs and leathery wings that could tear you to shreds. But, he's also the same demon who seeks you out for comfort after punishments or a big loss at the casino. The same demon who sits through horror movies if it means he'll have an excuse to spend the night with you. The demon who would truly do anything you asked of him - and that's not a power you wield lightly.
You pat his hand with a smile to let him know you're finished and hold out your hands for him once more. You'll let him decide if he wants to continue.
"Hey, don't you dare ignore me!" Plopping his hand into yours immediately defeats the tough tone he's put on. You start from the top and repeat the motion, fingers to palm. A rush of boldness overcomes you as you press into the callouses. You adore this demon. You wish he could see himself the way you see him.
"I know you're not fragile, Mam." You finish up the massage, but don't let go. You watch as the indentations gradually fade into even skin. "But, you're precious to me. I treasure what's precious to me. You get that, don't you?"
Your stomach drops as silence greets you. At the very least, you think, it's a good sign that he hasn't pulled his hand away from you. You drop both of your hands into your lap and fidget with his fingers.
"You mean that?" You never knew Mammon's voice could sound so meek.
You lift your eyes to his, grasping his hand tightly between your own. Wide eyes, mouth parted, and brows furrowed. Even like this, he's a vision.
"I mean it, Mam."
At once, his cheeks are aflame. "I-you!" He stammers. A laugh rips from your chest, relieved that he didn't a) run out of the room or b) hide away from you. You want to tease him more, but you hold back. Instead, you reach over to pick up the DVD from off your comforter and savor this milestone between the two of you.
"Ready for the movie?" You ask, getting up from the bed.
"Huh? Oh that, yeah, yeah." He seems a bit dazed.
"You feeling ok?" You lean over, lifting your hand to feel his forehead, but his hand catches yours before you reach him.
"I'm fine! The hell we watching anyway?" You use your free hand to show him the DVD cover. The two demonic leads stand before each other, hand in hand, leaning in for a kiss under the title.
"The Wicked Woes of Demonessa?!" He sounds exasperated. "W-where'd you get that junk?! We ain't watching that!"
"What, why not?" You pout, giving him puppy dog eyes.
"That's some mind poison! All it's good for is rottin' ya brain." He snarls, but you know you've got him. A little nudging is all he needs.
"Oh." You sigh, purposefully. "Well, if you don't want to watch it with me, I'm sure Beel or Mo wouldn't mind." "Like he-" "Or-" You counter before he can start running his mouth. "We can watch another movie I borrowed as a back-up."
Mammon eyes you suspiciously. "What other movie are ya hidin', human?"
You have to be a little evil in this back-and-forth or you'll never get anywhere. So, you shuffle over to the TV stand and grab the unopened DVD case resting next to the DVD player. You show him the cover and watch as he immediately recoils.
"ARE YA CRAZY?!" He shrieks. A myriad of ghosts with tormented expressions erupt from the house that rests above the title that reads: The Horrible Haunting of Hollow Hill Manner.
"What?" You ask like it's not the most peculiar and pointed selection to ensure you two watch your movie of choice this evening.
"What?" He mocks your casual tone. "Who're ya borrowin' that from?"
"Satan." Your smile comes easy. "He recommended this one, it's a murder mystery that takes place in a haunted house. Apparently, it's based on a true story."
"A TRUE WHAT?!" He throws the fur blanket over himself, leaving only his head submerged.
"Mammon," you snort, "you're literally one of the most powerful beings in existence. Fourth most powerful in all the Devildom."
You can't see his chest puff up, but you know him well enough to know it does.
"E-exactly!" He exclaims. "I can take on anything. Some cheap old trick movie like that won't scare me, nuh-uh, it'll just be a snoozefest."
"I see," you smirk, "then some cliche romance flick shouldn't be too bad, right? Wouldn't want you falling asleep on me." Hook, line, and sinker.
You pay Mammon's complaints no mind as you open the DVD case and pull out the disk. You pop it into the DVD player, thrilled you get to watch a classic demonic romance unfold. You've been curious for some time now about how romance in the Devildom differs from the Human Realm. The plot seemed entertaining enough, but really you were curious about the customs. You wanted to woo him on his terms, in a way he couldn't blow off as some human schtick.
You press play and pad back over to your bed. He's pouty, so you decide to sit next to him and hold out on getting under the blanket with him.You'll wait until the mood passes and give him his space.You can feel his stare digging into you as the opening soundtrack plays, but you manage to keep your focus on the screen. For a couple of minutes you two sit like this.
"Why're ya bein' like that?" He accuses.
"Like what?" You snap your head to him, eyes widening as you see him sit up, blanket falling off his shoulders and into his lap.
"Distant." He huffs, looking away from you. "Y-you said you treasure what's precious to ya, right?"
Your heart is about to fucking explode. You don't waste a minute, wrapping your arm around his and tugging at him to face you.
"You looked upset, so I wanted to give you your space." You utter, softly. "Would you be ok if I joined you under the blanket?"
He scoffs, lifting the blanket up and over you. "Like ya even hav'ta ask." Earlier in the night than you've anticipated, he cuddles into your side with his head resting on your chest. You can't read his face from this angle, but a subdued purr rumbling through him assures you he's comfortable.
You two sit like this throughout the first half of the movie. It's an interesting premise concentrated on the love between a demon of nobility and a commoner of great strength who has been hired to train the noble in the art of war. Later on, it's revealed that the commoner's unprecedented strength is due to them being an illegitimate child of a Great General of the East. The noble's father, a Recordkeeper, has hidden away documents proving the commoner's lineage at their father's request. Thus, they come to the castle under the guise of an instructor and soon find their plans disrupted when they begin to fall for the Recordkeeper's heir.
Your curiosity is piqued as displays of what you presume is affection come onto the screen. "Hey Mam, I thought they liked each other, so why are they wrestling like that right now?"
It's a more violent display than you expect, but you're entranced as their jaws snap, teeth are bared, and claws dig into skin. The leads throw each other against any surface within the weapon storehouse, stopping the other before they can plan an escape. You look down at Mammon to find him hiding his face into your shirt, the tips of his ears tinged red.
"It's a show of strength." He mumbles into your shirt.
"A show of strength...," you repeat thoughtfully, "is that common in courtship here?"
Mammon groans, hiding further into your shirt. "I don'wanna talk about this. Don't they teach ya shit like that in your Demon Studies course or somethin'?"
"Unfortunately, no. The topic has never come up." Demon Studies has solely focused on social, political, and institutional relationships within the Devildom. Nothing interpersonal as far as you can remember.
"What?! Well they should, some silly 'ol human isn't gonna just pick up on that."
"Well," you drag your fingers through his hair, "think you could enlighten me?"
He peeks up at you with a glare. "Whad'ya wanna know?" The topic seems sensitive, so you tread lightly.
"Could you tell me what a common courtship is like here? You don't have to be detailed or anything. Like, are there steps?" Most of the romance movies you've seen during your time here have been pirated by Leviathan from the human realm.
Again, Mammon hides his face from you. You are about to suggest you two move past the topic when he finally speaks up.
"Yeah. Yeah there are steps." You stay silent, but keep running your hand through his hair.
"Y'noticed how the noble started sendin' letters? Or how once they got a response from the sword swinger they started includin' trinkets or whatever with 'em?" A moment of silence passes and he peeks up at you. It hits you that he's waiting on you to respond.
You smile bashfully. "Oh, yes! Yes, I noticed."
He huffs. "It started then. Goin' all out with gifts, tryin' to impress each other like lunatics."
"Are trinkets usually given?" You ask.
"Mm," he hums, "yeah, but gifts are as varied as demons. Some prefer other things: food, poems, flowers, the heart of your greatest enemy, buncha stuff."
"Huh-" Did you hear that correctly?
"The heart of your greatest enemy?" You parrot.
"What, ya sayin' humans don't do that anymore?" You shake your head.
"None that I've met at least." You don't doubt that humans have done it at some point in time, but it sounds more like some distant wartime practice from the Middle Ages or earlier.
"Still happens here. It's a show of strength and dedication, proof ya can kick any ass that comes threatinin' your potential mate." He seems to be relaxing more and more as you delve deeper into the topic.
"So, the wrestling...?"
"Show of strength. They're pretty equally matched, even though the lovebirds run in different circles. Makes 'em decent partners at least." You feel your mind expanding with the revelation that this scene is way deeper than you've realized. Despite the commoner's standing, they've been in control for most of the wrestling match.
"Ooooh!" You take a minute to ponder.
"So, demons won't usually go for someone weaker than them?"
"Bingo."
You wonder what this means for you two. You certainly aren't as strong enough as a demon, and especially not as strong as the Avatar of Greed.
You lose your train of thought as Mammon sits up more to face you, poking you in the forehead.
"Doesn't mean they never will." You relax your face at his touch, you hadn't realized it was scrunched up so much.
"It's not all about how tough ya are. It's 'bout how they make ya feel too. A courtship is pretty serious stuff, you don't pursue somethin' that intense with just any old schmuck."
Mammon's eyes follow your hand as it reaches to fiddle with the golden pendant he gifted you. In the middle lies some gemstone you can't find in the human world. It's clear with specks of gold and blue. He blushes and coughs into his fist.
"If it continues after that, it gets pretty serious pretty fast. Ya start scentin' each others stuff, which is a pretty ballsy move."
Your eyebrows jump up at this unexpected development. "Scenting...?"
"Yeah, puttin' your scent out so they know who ya belong to. No human nose is gonna pick up on somethin' subtle like that, but it's there." Wait, so does that mean-
"Is the house scented? Can it just be anything?" Mammon looks at you as if you've just grown another head.
"Huh?! No!" Embarrassment warms your cheeks.
"Why would we go wastin' energy like that? That's crazy. If anything is scented, it's intentional and nothin' time consumin'." You shrug your shoulders.
"Ah, ok. I didn't know." You fiddle some more with the pendant, looking away from him.
"Ack, no don't feel bad!" His face is just as flushed as yours, but he continues. "You didn't ask anything stupid. There's no way ya could've known!" You can't stop the giddy grin that pulls at your lips as he attempts to comfort you. You face him again.
"So, what happens next? If you're already doing something like that, aren't you practically together?"
"Practically, but not officially." He grumbles. "Buncha kids go around scentin' each other thinkin' they're in love. The scent fades as fast as the feelin's." He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh.
"It's official when ya make it official. A spoken agreement between partners. No bullshittin'."
"That's it?" You try to sidestep the microscopic lens of human tunnel vision, but a spoken agreement feels less official than marriage in the human world. Joint assets, joint families, and rings as proof of being claimed.
"Whad'ya mean "that's it?"?! All and everything you really feel. Ya gotta say it and ya gotta mean it. It's a bindin' contract that's a bitch to ever try and break." It clicks for you then. A demon's word is binding.
"Like a pact, but for romantic partners?"
Mammon ponders for a moment before he nods. "That's not too far off. Little more goes into it, but it's complicated." The lull that comes after feels like the end of the conversation, so you take your chance.
"Mammon, has anyone tried courting you before?"
"Hah, of course!" His grin is as smug as it always is. "Who wouldn't want to take a chance to be with The Great Mammon?" He laughs to himself, but you wonder-
"Have you ever accepted an attempt?" You're curious.
"Uh-" The question catches him off guard. "Y-yeah. A handful of times, but it never went anywhere." You're a little disappointed, but you swallow down your pride. It would be more concerning if he'd never tried to find love throughout the milleniums he's lived.
You shift your line of questioning. You'd rather focus on the present and this momentous opportunity lined up before you.
"So, say I were to get you something. What would you like?" You've never seen his head whip around so fast, truly inhuman speed as he jumps back from you and slams into the headboard.
"The hell, MC?!" His face, ears, and what you can see of his neck, everywhere is flushed at your implication. This is just as embarrassing for you, but you feel emboldened by the security of your room, the sweet scent of honey in the air, and the declarations of love coming from the movie that still runs in the background.
"What about a pendant to match mine? Would you wear something like that if I got it for you?" You've come so close. You won't give up now.
"W-why would I want somethin' like that?" You know it's a deflection. He wouldn't have stayed with you, here and now, if it wasn't. But, you're tired of it. You only want it if he wants it too. No bullshitting, right?
"Nevermind then, Mam. Don't worry, I won't get you anything. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." You reach for the remote that fell to the floor during all the commotion. "We don't have to finish the mo-"
You squeal in shock as Mammon throws himself into you. It's enough force to knock you back onto the pillows sprawled all over. You're speechless as he hides his face into your neck. He's never gotten this close to you.
"S'fine." His grip on you tightens. "A matching necklace, s'good."
You can't contain yourself. "Mam, look at me."
He hums but doesn't move.
"Mammon, look at me." You're gentle with him as you cup his cheeks.
"Seriously, you would accept it?"
"Now you're just bein' cruel. I said it's good, didn't I?!" You can feel the sting of tears building. You don't think you've ever been this happy.
You rub your thumbs over his cheeks. "Hey, Mam?"
"Whatd’ya want now?"
"Can I kiss you?"
In an instant, you're pressed back into the pillows, Mammon's lips on yours. It's not fireworks like humans talk about, nor the clashing of fangs as demons might do. It's tender and filled with a longing buried deep within the soul. It's messy. It's unexpected. It's perfect.
You pull back to catch your breath and are touched by the unshed tears in Mammon's glassy eyes. It seems the sensation was mutual.
"I love you, Mam."
You can figure out what this means for you two going forward tomorrow. You can ask about the callouses on his hands or for the stories of hardship behind the scars. You can discuss where courtships went wrong for you both, talk through your communication struggles, and love each other openly without fear. You're just so happy, really, that he'll let you love him.
"I love ya too, MC." He settles back into your arms, and you two lay there for some time, movie all but forgotten.
It's when the credits roll that Mammon shoots up, rushing to grab his jacket.
"Ah, shit!" He digs into his jacket pockets, pulling out a couple bags of hellfire twists. Your shared favorite movie treat.
"I meant to give this to ya earlier. So, ya know, we could have a snack during the movie." You chuckle at him as he rubs the back of his neck.
"We still can. Ever heard of ``To Capture a Beating Heart”?"
#For the purposes of this drabble you have a TV in your room and yes Levi did let you borrow it because it’s an older model and you know he’s#Absolute king shit Leviathan ty for hooking your brother up#I fr did a coin toss for this one and it was heads#so sorry to those who might have been interested in the plot of to capture a beating heart#I listened to the Born to Die Album Paradise Edition for the entirety of this#Off to the Races screams Mammon and I will not be persuaded otherwise#I took a some things I thought would be interesting and contrary to human culture and tossed them into the courtship#Also hello everyone I did not expect anyone to read or enjoy my things and I'm so very happy to share my little musings with you all#mammon obey me#lucifer obey me#obey me barbatos#obey me diavolo#mammon x reader#reader x mammon#obey me x reader#obey me reader#obey me reader insert#obey me#obey me one master to rule them all#omomtrta#mammon x mc#obey me mc#mammon x you#mammon x y/n#demonic courting#courting rituals#obey me satan
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Saddle Up Partner
Summary:
You huff, “Anything you can tell me about the sheriff? Is he rough? Does he cry as some of the others do?” You ask, leaning against the door, “Come on, Nat, you’ve slept with him; what’s he like in bed?”
“You’ll find out, but a word of advice, don’t expect to walk much tomorrow.”
Pairings:
Sheriff!Steve Rogers x Male!Reader
Tags:
Western AU | Smut | Plot? What Plot? |
Words: 1576
Author's Note:
I have no excuse or any semblance of explanation as to why I wrote this. I will be seeing myself out now, enjoy. 🙃
The sun’s barely up in the sky when there’s a knock on your door; the madam stands there in her sleep-addled glory; she chuckles at your similar appearance before handing an envelope to you. You shift the envelope around, smiling at the rustling of coins and sturdy-feeling of stacked notes.
“Congratulations, you won by a landslide.”
You huff, “Anything you can tell me about the sheriff? Is he rough? Does he cry as some of the others do?” You ask, leaning against the door, “Come on, Nat, you’ve slept with him; what’s he like in bed?”
“You’ll find out, but a word of advice, don’t expect to walk much tomorrow.”
She doesn’t say much else, leaving you with your thoughts. You shift through your closet; from what you’ve seen, the sheriff is well mannered, silent, fierce, and exceptionally gifted in many areas. You’d heard the other saloon doves talk about his prowess in the saddle - both in and outside the bedroom - the few he’d bedded had been very scant in their recollections. They needn’t say much, though, as the limping was enough of an indicator - the man was, for lack of a better word, private. In the many years you’d seen him in the saloon, you’d heard him utter no more than a few words. You turn over the vermillion bunny suit Natasha had gifted you last valentine’s day - the suit was quite revealing, the collared top of it was see-through, with various flowers and hearts drawn across the front and back. It descended into see-through pants, with the groin covered by roses and thorns cascading down the legs. The suit came with an equally lavish petticoat to place atop the legs; it was easy to tear off and added a bit of flair to the outfit.
You held it up to your body, swaying side by side while waltzing up to the mirror; you switched out for another outfit - your infamous copper suit, not as eye-catching in decor, but more so in its openness, there was very little left to the imagination with this one. It even had an easily flappable backside for ease of access. You switched between the two suits before leaving it to chance with a coin toss, heads fr the valentine one, and tails for the copper one. The coin flies in the air, spinning on itself, and when it lands in your hands again, you find yourself smirking at the sight of heads. You waste no time slipping into the valentine attire, you move your hair back, sweeping it from your face, and you do your best to weave your hair somehow, incorporating a few roses on each side. Once you were satisfied, you slipped on downstairs, keeping away from the other patrons’ eyes; Natasha met you around the back.
“Don’t take it to heart if he seems a bit withdrawn at the sight of you; after all, this whole thing was a collective town effort. So do your best to tell him that before you jump his bones.” Natasha saddled up a horse as you donned an overcoat, then you were gone.
The sheriff’s property was a ranch situated at the edge of town and as far away as possible from the entrance. The road leading up to it diverted away into the property, surrounded by trees all around, the mountains to the back, its isolated location was peaceful. You settled your horse by the trees nearby and sat by the front steps as you waited for the man’s arrival. When the sheriff did arrive, you were at a loss for words; looking at him up close did far more wonders than the glimpses you’d gotten before. Sheriff Rogers was on the tall side, his figure well-built, as evident by his muscles; his shirt was slightly askew, moved to the side, hat settled on his head, his beard was well-groomed, and hair moved back. His legs were well defined - at least from what you could see when he dismounted from his horse - and the bulge in his pants appeared already half hard. He towered over you when he came to a stop, glancing down at you in question.
“Howdy, sheriff,” you greeted.
“Howdy to you as well,” he responded uncertainly, “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”
You leaned forward, tracing your fingers up his chest, “It’s not what you can help me with, more so what I can you with. See, the whole town’s grateful you’ve been protecting us and keeping order all these years, so we decided to reward you.”
“I already got my reward at the saloon.” Rogers grabbed your hand from his chest, staring down at you in sternness.
“I’m more of a personal reward for all the hard work you’ve done,” you retorted, “besides, haven’t you ever wanted to have your rewards in the comfort of your own home, no interruptions, no payments?” You loosened the overcoat slightly, giving him a peek at your undergarments; a slight blush danced its way across his cheeks as he appeared to contemplate your words. Your other hand moved down to his dick; the half-hard bulge had become a massive tent in his trousers; you traced your finger alongside it, cooing at its size. You settled your hand on his trouser zipper, toying with it as your other hand shifted to hold his. Rogers' eyes closed blissfully, snapping back open when you moved away, a smug expression on your face. “Of course, if you don’t want that, I’ll be on my way; I’m sure there are plenty of other men in need of my services.
You moved to step aside but found yourself unable to when the sheriff crowded you, “I’ll take that as a no then.” Your words came out in the end like a whisper when his face came close to yours; you were backed against a wall, Roger’s knee moving up in between your legs as one of his arms settled above your head. His other hand tilted your head to the side, his head coming to your neck; he dragged his nose along it, chuckling at the sounds it elicited from you. “Rogers…”
“Steve,” he muttered before hauling you into the house. You barely took in the interior decor as the sheriff dragged you around. Though you didn’t pay that much mind either, turning back to Steve, you moved your hand from his grip, backing him as well as you could to the bed. He sat down; hands splayed back; you unzipped his trousers, setting his dick free as it sprung up, a hint of precum dribbling from it. Its thick girth and length had your mind swimming with anticipation.
You touched the tip of Steve’s cock, moving your finger down his shaft and over a few of the protruding veins, the action drawing a groan from the man. You took it into your mouth, pacing yourself until the whole thing was down your throat; you moved back halfway, then back to the hilt, bobbing your head at a leisurely pace. Steve’s hand came to your hair, knocking the roses intertwined to the side for a better grip; he bucked up into your mouth once or twice, and your hands settled themselves onto his thick thighs as you sucked him off. Your tongue around his cock, his hands ceasing your head movements when he came, holding your head close until the gush of cum had stopped. He stood after, undressing as you situated yourself across his bed; when he returned, he did so, oil in hand, and he positioned himself behind you. The oil was cold, sending goosebumps across your body; Steve spread it around your hole; you turned in time to see him pour it across his fingers; they moved in and out slowly, opening you at his leisure as you mewled.
Your leg was pushed up to your chest, Steve’s chest moved closer to your back, his form curving over you, his mouth by your ear. “Good boy.” He whispered, adding another finger. You bit your lip; head tilted back; he took the chance, face settling on your neck, this time placing hickeys; he managed four fingers before he was satisfied. His hand left your ass, moving your leg away from your chest; he moved it outward; Steve’s cock slid in inch by inch. He moved out to the tip, then rammed back in, his pace relentless and quick; his other hand had found its way to your hip, holding you in place as he fucked you. Whatever words he uttered were drowned out by your moans and his grunts of pleasure in between. He moves fast and precise, hitting the right spot and sending you into overdrive; you take your dick in hand, jacking it off at an erratic pace. Steve’s movements stopped, his orgasm rippling through him; you shuddered as you came soon after, head flopping against him; the room was now filled with exhausted panting. You clenched around Steve’s cock, wincing at the pain it sent.
“Nat was right; I’m not walking tomorrow.” Steve chuckled at your expense, “Not funny, sheriff.”
“Sorry about that; if you like, you could stay awhile tomorrow; I don’t mind,” he said, taking your cock in hand again; he rubbed its tip. He positioned himself closer, shoving his dick further inside you; his other hand took to your nipple, and he pinched it, pulling at it harshly, “Besides, we’re not done yet.”
End Note:
Hope you enjoyed reading this shite. Stay Hydrated.
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Competitive || FW
even though Fred loves you, that doesn’t stop him from trying his hardest to beat you in quidditch.
pairings: fem!hufflepuff!chaser!reader
warnings: cussing, meantions of eating/food, mentions of anxiety, mention of death, friendly competition, very bad injury, blood, concussions, and passing out
authors note: Cedric’s not dead, because i said so. I know it’s been forever since i posted but y’know, life gets in the way. Also, I know nothing about palm reading so if i’m wrong/something is inaccurate, i’m really sorry. I edited this, so hopefully it’s better 👍
(gif not mine)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
You were sitting in the great hall for breakfast, next to all of the Hufflepuff quidditch team. Cedric was making sure everyone knew the strategies, which he had already done 3 times this morning alone. But all you could think about was the semi-finals game tonight against Gryffindor. It felt like your team had been preparing for this since the beginning of time. You were ready, but it didn’t stop your stomach from being tied in a knot. Especially since you were going to play against your very competitive boyfriend, Fred Weasley. By no means would he go easy on you, gosh, probably harder on you since you were dating. He’d been teasing you about it for weeks.
“Y/n, are you even listening?” a very annoyed Cedric complained from across the table, snapping his fingers.
“What- yes, of course I am. It’s not like I’ve heard it a million bloody times already.” You replied with an eye roll, wanting this to be over so you could go back to enjoying your meal.
“So, as I was saying, I’m at right, Y/n is at left…” He trailed off about our starting positions, and you went back to daydreaming before your friend told you it was time for class.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
“Nervous, darling?” Fred teased from the other side of the table during divination.
“Me, Nervous? No, never-“ You said with sarcasm in your voice as you started writing down your results from the palm reading you did on him earlier. “And,” you continued, “Your palm reading says you’ll have great misfortune later, so who knows, maybe Hufflepuff will win.”
“Aw, this is all bull shit anyway.” Fred said rolling his eyes and looking up at you.
You say, laughing, “Now you’re just scared, Freddie-“ Which is true, because you could tell he was nervous too. He always picked at his nails when he was nervous. It was a bad habit, but still was something you picked up on.
“Whatever you say, Hufflepuff” He winked at you then seemingly went in for a kiss, before pulling his head back and ruffling you hair.
“Heyyyyyy~” you whined sarcastically
Fred chuckles in response “No kissing until the game tonight, when I win.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
40 minuetes until the game. You were shaking, the butterflies in your stomach wilder then ever. Walking down the hallways was a task in itself, the heavy broom in your hand and your quidditch robes waying you down. Not to mention your knees trembling with every step. You were naturally a anxious person, but the semi-finals of the quidditch season was stressful. Cedric had requested you get there 30 minutes early, preferably earlier than that, but nobody was listening at that point after he’d gone over our strategy for scoring on Oliver Wood for the millionth time.
When you finally made it to the pitch, you were fifteen minuetes late. Cedric automatically flew down to you, shaking his head.
“Y/N, where we’re you? You’re the last one here.”
“I can tell, Cedric. Someone had to do it though.” You laughed and hopped up on your broom, quickly flying past to him and up to your starting position.
“C’mon Cedric, we’re waiting!” Everyone around you laughed, but the captain didn’t look too amused.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
You couldn’t belive it. The game was about to start. Oliver and Cedric were doing the coin toss, and if you thought your nerves were something before, everything was 10 times worse now. Your heart was pounding, limbs shaking, and frankly, you thought it was a heart attack. Fred was sitting on his broom across from you, and right when the whistle blew, He winked and flew off. You had barely any time to recover from the wink or the chills, and swiftly flew off to your teammate who had acquired the quaffle.
Flying behind your teammate, Heidi Macavoy, was not easy. The Gryffindor team was being very aggressive, and bludgers were flying right past your head with very little warning. You and Heidi were nearing the goal, and Oliver looked at you two as if he had fire in his eyes. You started trying out Cedric’s strategy, flying all over the right end of the pitch to distract the beater. It didn’t seem to be working though. He was very focused, and when Heidi threw the quaffle, it barely got anywhere before Oliver deflected it with his broom. It was going to be a long match.
45 minutes later, neither team had scored and many injuries had been sustained. Cedric had nearly fallen to his death 3 times, Angelina Johnson took a quaffle to her now-very-crooked nose, and you have had over 20 bludgers come into contact with your head. All sent at you by the one and only, Fred Weasley. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, just teasing really. After the 21st time he’d done it, you looked over at him and gave him a very mean stare. A warning, that he better stop or you know, something bad would happen. And just when you were done with your stare, a fast flying bludger hit your boyfriend smack in the head. Next thing you know, Fred was off his broom, and falling down towards the ground. It seemed like nobody noticed but you. You sat there, watching your boyfriend fall down bascially at the speed of light. You were frozen. And just like that, Madam Hooch blew the whistle.
Fred’s body stopped right above the ground, the wound on his head very prominent.
“Everyone get down. The game will finish when each team has fully conscious players.” Madam Hooch yelled out loud enough for everyone to hear. There were groans from all around, the stands full of people looking very disappointed. Oliver Wood looked near tears, and ran off to the locker rooms.
“Someone is butt hurt.” Anthony Rickett muttered.
“With our luck this means 50 more hours of practice.” Katie Bell chuckled.
You weren’t worried about their sly comments though, only yor boyfriend. He was being taken to the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
When Fred woke up, He found a half-asleep Y/N by his side. He had a wrap around his head, and his legs felt rather weak.
“W-what happened?” Fred blinked hard and stretched his arms out.
“Fred! Finally, you’ve been out forever. You took a bludger to the head.” You turned to him and placed a hand on his forehead.
“Did we win? Is Gryffindor going to the championship?” He quickly said sitting up and looked at you eagerly.
“They called the game off. We’re continuing next week when everyone recovers.” Shrugging, you continued to check on him and handed Fred his glass of water
“Oi, what rubbish.” He looked over at you and smirked. “We’ll still win.”
“Oh, we’ll see…” you looked back down at him. “I know neither team has won yet, but could I still get that kiss?”
He smirked and moved closer to you. “Gonna make out with an injured man, eh? Sounds dangerous.”
“Fred Gideon Weasley, when have you ever done anything safe?” You say, giggling and moving a hair out of his face.
“Hm, good point love.” Fred shrugs, leaning into you and placing a soft kiss on your lips.
It was heavenly, as all of your kisses with Fred were. But, you two were soon interrupted.
“Ooooo, what do we have here?” Fred’s twin brother, George, teased in a sing-song tone
“Piss off you-“ Fred said, pulling away.
“Afraid i can’t, Oliver’s right behind me. Wants to have a stern word with you for passing out. Going on and on about how ‘they can’t cancel quidditch’ whatever that means.” George said walking over. “Hate to ruin your love fest though, really.”
“Oh shut up, George!” You laughs and wack his shoulder
“Voilence will not be tolerated, Y/N.” The younger twin said jokingly.
“Rubbish, you big git- call me when you survive Oliver, Freddie.” You smiles at your boyfriend and gave him one last kiss on the cheek, and one more wack for his brother.
Fred laughs and smiles, “This isn’t over though, i’m still gonna make fun of you!”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
reblogs and likes really help. If you liked it, consider a re blog or follow!! <3
#fanfic#harry potter#fred weasley#weasley#george weasley#fred wealsey fic#fred weasley blurb#fred weasley x reader#fred wealsey fluff#george wealsey imagine
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hi!! for the ask game, may i ask numbers 1, 21 (for coin toss or to hold and be held?), 41, and 50? i hope you're having a great day!! :)
i've been saving this and waiting until i was finished up w work to answer!!
1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)
Hmm...maybe to hold and be held? I think it is a sufficient amount of angst and comfort/kinda gives you an idea of what i enjoy writing. i think i also just really enjoyed writing that one/it came very easily!
21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?
okay i'll answer for both fics!
for coin toss, i'm not sure if this qualifies as a "missing scene" but i would've loved to write a little bit more with dabi interacting with the reader/the reader interacting with the villains a little more. i think maybe also another scene of tomura accidentally flashing his possessiveness/protectiveness over the reader.
as for to hold and be held, i'll be so honest, i almost included a whole other smut scene at the end jdkflsjfkld i couldn't bring myself to do it but. the idea still lives in my head. maybe i'll do it as some one shot sometime. otherwise, a missing scene i almost did, which honestly would've turned into several scenes, was sukuna's involvement/thoughts on all of that/the reader, etc. i hint at sukuna's interest in megumi and the reader as this sort of shadow/light opposites but i had a lot more of that thought out. ultimately, i didn't wanna deal with sukuna lol and i didn't want it to be longer than it already was for a one shot. too many characters to keep track of in one scene!!
41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”
oh gosh. there's so many. can i just....@pantowone 's writing in general i'm always floored. i'll also say @cyancherub 's aki fic haunt really sticks with me, too, in terms of writing style. there are many, many more i just don't want this answer to get too long!! ppl on here are fr so talented
50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!
ohhh dealer's choice!! okay okay...i'll answer 26:
26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?
i think no dialogue because i'm wordy. but i also have recently been writing scripts which is....purely dialogue. it's a fun challenge!
thank you so much for asking such great questions!!
ask me questions about fic writing!!
#i'll be online tonight too if anyone else wants to send any other questions in!!#gonna be writing and hanging out!!#belle talks!#thank you again anon!!!
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#12: Whimsy
- [whimsy]: noun; "capricious humor or disposition; extravagant, fanciful, or excessively playful expression;" "an odd or fanciful notion;" or "a product of playful or capricious fancy."
- References to the level 50-60 LTW and BSM job quests, the moogle beast tribe story line up to level 7 reputation and the side quests available after completion of the New Nest in the Firmament.
- shameless use of writing prompt to introduce a new OC complimentary to my WoL that will be featured in future pieces, Rayne "Echoes" Cowen.
[May or may not have gotten carried away with this one. Hope you enjoy! ^_^”]
AO3 ver.
-
“I beg your pardon?” Aymeric answered aghast.
Ser Handeloup enjoyed the expression the lord commander gave, for it certainly mirrored the one that he certainly had made when he made his own discovery.
“Indeed, Ser Aymeric,” the second commander responded. “To think, the vaunted Warrior of Light and savior of Ishgard had not only treated with the moogles and House Dzaemel to restore Bahrr Lehs to its former glory, but she single-handedly brought honor to House Jervaint by crafting the equipment she uses to this day. Not to mention that she had worked together with Mistress Elde of the Mercantile association in the Crozier to bring about the case of the leather armor-”
“That was Aria, as well?” the lord commander gaped, his eyes wide with surprise.
“An unexpected development, is it not?” Handeloup answered with a bellow of laughter.
Aymeric leaned back against his seat at the war table in the middle of the Congregation of Knights Most Holy. He had wondered how in Halone’s name the quality of equipment fashioned had increased exponentially, thus increasing the morale of the Temple Knights overall. Moreover, he expected the restoration of the Firmament to take a miserly length of time to complete - only to find that the ideal checkpoint drafted and proposed by Lord Francel had reached completion in the matter of a few moons. Then, there was the young miss from House Jervaint that Handeloup was speaking of, an unpolished gem with such prodigious skill that would have gone unnoticed had it not been for an unknown sponsor fashioning the tools she needed to attend their scouting event.
“She seems to be quite a number of steps ahead of even you, my lord,” Aymeric heard Lucia tease at his opposite side.
“Indeed…”
The doors to the Congregation had opened and the three lifted their attentions upward to find a rather tall Hyuran male with hair like red wine and heterochromatic eyes the colors of night and day. When the man found that he was being stared at, he raised a brow in their direction and approached them.
“Greetings, Master Echoes,” Aymeric welcomed him with a kind smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
The man known as ‘Echoes’ bowed politely in the lord commander’s direction.
“Greetings, Lord Aymeric. I have come to deliver something to Ser Handeloup on behalf of my lady.”
The company was quite aware of this man’s relationship to the Warrior of Light - rather, Rayne "Echoes" Cowen was an outcast found in the middle of nowhere, fighting to survive, when Aria had run into him. Treated him with the respect that any living individual deserves to be treated, as well as cure him of mortal wounds that would have otherwise ended his life.
Thus did the man pledge his loyalties to her, allowing only her the use of his true name, and was stationed in Ishgard at her behest, working on behalf of Aria’s birthright and to ensure that Aymeric was taking care of himself. Lucia was eternally grateful.
So, they watched the respected man as he procured a pouch from his pockets, placed it on the wooden war table and slid it towards the second commander. When it reached him, Handeloup retrieved it, mildly startled by its weight, before peering inside.
“Why, this is-!” the man exclaimed, then ogled the man.
Echoes inclined his head. “My lady wishes to invest in Lady Jervaint’s talents. As such, she requests that all of her arms and weaponry needs are to be billed to House Lukos. That is, until the day she completes her training and obtains knighthood. She hopes that the amount withheld in that coinpurse is enough for the course of a moon-”
“Never you mind a moon, Master Echoes, this is enough to last half a year!” Handeloup exclaimed, then shifted to present the pouch to the lord- and first commander.
Echoes raised a brow lazily. “Is that so? Then I have utmost faith that it will be used efficiently.”
Echoes bowed once more and turned to leave, but Aymeric rushed to his feet.
“Please, wait a moment, Master Echoes!”
Stopping in his tracks, Echoes turned back to the man.
“Simply ‘Echoes’ is fine, my lord. I could not possibly accept such honorable words from the one my lady finds favor in.”
Aymeric flinched, startled by the man’s fervent fealty to his beloved. “Th-then, Echoes, please tell me - do you happen to know if Aria is returned to the city?”
Echoes smiled. “Indeed, my lord. However, she urged me not to bring the matter up as she was sure you and yours would be rather occupied at this moment.”
“Do you know where she is at this moment?”
“Yes. She is currently entertaining the children within the Firmament. She will most likely remain there until the sun sets.”
Aymeric shifted his gaze towards Lucia and the woman sighed heavily.
“You do not have an appointment important enough that it cannot wait until the 'morrow,” she answered.
Aymeric’s eyes beamed. “Wonderful! Then, let us pay our dear warrior a visit, shall we?”
The lord commander turned towards Echoes expectantly and the man bowed once more.
“Very good, my lord. Now, if you would.”
The three commanders followed the man out of the Congregation and through the Brume. Eyes followed them, curious to why the renowned Ser Aymeric was strolling about and even Thomelin, the gatekeeper of the Firmament, was startled by the esteemed personage entering. The sight of Echoes did well to keep him from panicking, allowing a rather smooth entry.
Aymeric’s eyes widened. He had heard the New Nest had been completed, but he hadn’t imagined just how beautiful its designs were. As he followed Echoes, he couldn't help but gawk at every building, every staircase and railing that he could, committing it all to memory. Every now and then, he would spy the excited expressions of the inhabitants and the cheers that marked both happiness and hope. The fruit of all their labor - by the Fury, it was all falling to place.
“Here we are, Rolanberry Field,” Echoes announced.
Aymeric, Lucia and Handeloup admired the artistry of the estate. The walls were built on such evenly cut stone and the structure wastes no space on the plot it rested on. Even through the closed doors, the company could hear laughs of glee and delight emanating from it and it made their hearts feel so full.
“Ah, Master Echoes is back,” a voice called out.
The group turned and found a small Elezen girl carrying bolts of cloth in an assortment of colors, as well as find a wicker basket hanging from her arm besides. Upon further inspection, Aymeric and Lucia recognized the small girl to be Maelie, the child that had been tossed off the roof of the Vault during the dreadful day the Brothers of True Faith had held poor citizens hostage within its walls.
“Oh, and so is Ser Aymeric and Ser Lucia!” the girl exclaimed, becoming panicked and yet excitable.
Echoes didn’t hesitate to step towards the girl and stretch his arms out to gather half that the girl was carrying. Maelie smiled wide, grateful for the help.
“Do not be alarmed, Miss Maelie. They are also here to see the lady.”
“Oh!” Maelie turned towards the lord commander and quickly stepped towards him. “Then you’re just in time! Lady Aria is inside and teaching us arts and crafts!”
Aymeric’s smile grew all the fonder. “Is she now? Would you bring us to her? We do not wish to interrupt the class - we simply wish to welcome her home.”
“In that case, we should hurry! We ran out of materials, so Lady Aria had given us coin to purchase more. Everyone’s waiting!”
The girl bounced in her heel and rushed inside the building. Aymeric turned to Echoes and the Hyur male only gave a satisfied grin before he followed the small girl inside. The others mirrored his movements.
The moment the four entered, there was a sudden quiet that was quite opposite of what they had originally heard. That was, until they heard Maelie’s voice echoing against the walls and the subsequent bellows of gratitude from other children at the sight of her haul. There was the sound of rummaging, of children dividing the materials between themselves and when they had crossed the hall into the room they were residing in, they found children gathered before the Warrior of light, watching intently as the woman held an embroidery hoop in her hands, along with a needle and thread.
“Be careful as you stitch the patterns, everyone,” Aria reminded them. “It will not do for you to harm yourselves while practicing. If you are not confident, we have thimbles to protect your fingers.”
“Miss Aria, can you show me how to do this pattern again?” a small boy asked of her.
“Oh, Peyraquile, of course. You do it like this.”
The boy named Peyraquile, as well as two others - a girl wearing a blue winter coat and a boy wearing a grey urban coat - leaned in. Everyone, even children that hadn’t asked the question, watched as the woman weaved the needle in and out of the cloth that Peyraquile presented to her - slow enough for them to pay careful attention, but not as slow as to make them dreadfully bored. When she was finished, she turned back to the child.
“Does that help, my dear?” she asked.
Peyraquile nodded quickly and took the hoop back. “Yes, it does! Thank you, Miss Aria!”
The three children nodded and retreated back to their spot. In that time, three gentlemen wearing red anemos long sleeves and craftsman’s pants stepped to Aymeric’s side from the other direction as they peered into the room.
“My lady, we finished the outer frame of the structure as you have instructed. Do you have the time to inspect it before we move on to the next step?”
“Ah, Rasequin, of course-”
Aria stopped mid-sentence when she followed the direction of the voice and found not only the caretakers present, but the lord speaker of Ishgard in accompaniment of the first and second commander standing by. The sight gave her slight surprise before she sighed and stood to her feet.
“I will be with you a moment, Rasequin, Gontrandoix, Pehainel. In the meantime, please prepare the materials for the next step of construction. Rayne, do you mind watching after the children for a moment?” she asked.
Echoes nodded. “As you wish, my lady.”
Aria shifted her head, motioning for the remaining three individuals to follow and she led them into the kitchen. She quickly prepared Ishgardian tea for them and set delicate teacups before them on the table.
“Please, help yourselves,” she urged.
They did just so as Aria sat at the table with them, watching the three fondly as she propped her head up with her arm, leaning against it ever so slightly.
“I assume you have no qualms with my investment in Lady Jervaint?” she questioned.
Handeloup bellowed in laughter. “Nay, my lady, none at all! Rather, we were rather bewildered on how you manage to continuously surprise us. The lord commander the most!”
Aria shifted her gaze to Aymeric and the man looked horrified hearing that his second commander sold him out almost immediately. Fighting back the burning behind his pink-dusted cheeks, he cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly at the warrior.
“Indeed. You have given so much to Ishgard already, Ia. Such things-”
Aria raised a hand to interrupt.
“Ishgard is also my home, Aym. I will have none of that. Not only is it the duty of a citizen in this beautiful nation to aid where needed, I wish to make use of my talents and knowledge as such. Plus, ‘tis not as if I am spoiling them, as you can see with the fine gentlemen you met earlier.”
“Are they perchance the caretakers of this place, my lady?” Lucia asked.
Aria nodded. “Indeed. They asked for my assistance in creating a playground of sorts for the children. I taught them how to perform basic woodwork and smithing techniques so that they could fare on their own. They only ask of me to check on their work because one cannot be too careful.”
“And the children?” Aymeric asked. “They requested they teach you embroidery?”
Aria chuckled softly at that, a playful and entertained smile stretched upon her lips. “Nay, my dear. They requested to be taught ways they can contribute to the Restoration effort. They came together beforehand and some of them decided that selling custom handkerchiefs as staples of Ishgardian artistry to be exported would be a good idea. Who am I to deny them such ambitions when they are so eager to learn?”
Handeloup hummed, markedly impressed as he leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms.
“What a splendid idea, my lady. And you say they came up with the idea of their own accord?”
Aria nodded. “Indeed.” Aria stood on her feet and offered a curt bow towards the three. “Now, pardon me for my rudeness, but I shall return soon. I mean to inspect the work the fine caretakers have done so they may continue on their project. Ah, but feel free to stay as long as you like. Rayne?”
At the call of his name, Echoes had stepped from around the corner and into the room to join them. He bowed respectively towards Aria before she departed to do as she said she would. It was then that Handeloup found courage to ask what they were all thinking.
“Speak true, Master Echoes, how is it that Lady Aria is so motivated to complete such large tasks?”
Aymeric leaned in where he sat, eager to learn the answer, as well. Echoes pondered over the question, cupping his chin thoughtfully as he had done so.
“Well, if it is my lady, I would assume she is viewing all of this as a game.”
Lucia raised a brow skeptically. “A game?”
Echoes nodded his head. “Yes, Ser Lucia. Recently, Lord Stryder had caught wind of dissenters looking to stain Lord Aymeric’s good name as lord speaker of Ishgard. When my lady heard of this, she was quite furious, you see. So, she challenged the noble houses that were against Lord Aymeric - that if certain requisites were not met within a given time, she will not interfere with any further attempt they would have if they were to put a motion forward to have him step down.”
Lucia jumped to her feet, almost slamming her fist to the table. “That is-!”
“Just as you feel, Ser Lucia,” Echoes answered with an incline of his head. “Unfortunately for them, they only see House Lukos as a middle-ranked noble house with nary a connection to the upper echelons because of their prolonged absence from the country. Moreover, my lady issued the challenge with Lord Stryder as the intermediary - therefore they are unawares that it was actually the Warrior of Light, with all the support of the four High Houses and the Mercantile association of the Jeweled Crozier, not to mention the entire realm besides, that they have challenged.
So, she has rather taken her time ensuring that the lords would, for lack of a better way of putting it, ‘stew in their mistakes’, as Ser Estinien would say.”
Aymeric, Lucia and Handeloup stared at the man as if he had grown a second before the lord commander pressed his hand against his face and released a helpless laugh.
“Boosting our economy, putting down opposition in a way that maintains their honor as a noble house, raising the status of her own and rebuilding the city-state to a level above its former glory … and she perceives it as a game.”
Echoes smiled pleasantly at the sight of the three’s exhaustion and Aymeric was then reminded of the character of the woman that he had fallen in love with. Benevolent as Halone herself and as punishing as the Fury when angered. As astute as the most knowledgeable of academics…
...and as whimsical as the very definition of the word can get.
#ffxiv fanfiction#aymeric de borel#lucia goe junius#handeloup#seaswolchallenge#aria vitali writes#my wol has a lot of issues#she's very protective after all
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“amazing.” {audrey jensen imagine}
heyyy my babies!!! here’s something to tide you over before the next bi-curious and the virgin. if i get enough requests for a second part i’ll make it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Tom Holland. Bar none,” Noah said, leaning into the couch and shrugging his shoulders. “Most accurate Spider-Man.”
It was just past ten o’clock at one of Brooke’s Halloween extravaganza parties, and clearly your group of friends was getting increasingly heated. With open booze available on every surface and the closest people in your life around you, you had never felt safer or happier, giggling at Noah and Jake’s argument.
“But Tobey Maguire!” Jake cried, leaping up on the couch and almost crushing Brooke under his sneakers. “Tobey. Maguire. He’s the original!”
“Canon-wise, he blows!”
“Take it back!”
“Guys!” Audrey yelled, halfway between laughing so hard she was snorting and supreme annoyance. She feigned waving her arms in an attempt to get them to calm down, but then finished with a, “What about Andrew Garfield?”
You tipped your head back and snorted as Jake and Noah leapt back into action, missing Audrey’s initial look back to you. You missed the beginning of her staring, tracing along the column of your neck, wondering what would happen if she got her lips on it.
But you did catch the end of it. Your eyes locked, she turned away with a timid laugh, and your blush started to overtake your face. Of course, you were assuming you were overthinking it, and she was probably just seeing some sort of piece of string from your clothes on your collarbone. Audrey, on the other hand, was kicking herself for her leering; just because she sometimes liked to look at you didn’t make you anything other than straight, which was what she presumed, and falling for a straight girl was precisely at the bottom of her list.
Emma, sensing obvious tension between you and Audrey, cleared her throat loudly to get all of the attention on her. “Everyone. It cannot be a party without some classic party games, which is why I have…” she reached into her pocket, producing a silver coin.
“This.”
Immediately, hoots and hollers erupted from the crowd, and you leaned into the circle, crossing your legs and preparing for the game to begin. Audrey, on the other hand, started to lean back and raised her hand weakly. “How does this work?” she said, looking more to you than Emma.
“Okay,” you said, blushing again at the prospect of being so close to Audrey’s ear in the loud room. “So, one person whispers a question to the other, and the answerer says their answer out of context to the group out loud. Then someone flips the coin. If it’s heads, the person who asked the question gets to say it out loud, which kind of lets up the secret behind the person’s answer.”
“Ah, I get it,” Audrey said, tapping you on the shoulder in thanks. “Thanks.”
You tilted your chin in a you’re welcome motion, moving to settle back in your spot next to Emma, when Audrey looked at you again, and you got so caught up in her eyes, and her cheekbones, and the way her hair swooped over her forehead, and God, her lips-
“Y/N?” You realized that you’d completely been sitting in silence, missing her question.
“Sorry, sorry, just zoned out for a second,” you mumbled, internally kicking yourself at your momentary check-out of one of your friends. God, she probably wasn’t even interested, you thought to yourself. Just because someone might be into girls doesn’t mean they’re into you.
“It’s okay, relax,” Audrey giggled, leaning back onto her spot with Noah. “I just- your face is kinda red. You okay?” she asked, gesturing to her general visage.
Oh. Fuck. She noticed.
“I’m fine!” you spluttered out, a little too fast to be perfectly plausible. “I, just, uh. Drinking does that,” you said, despite the fact that your obviously full cup cancelled out that statement. What you meant to say was you do that. You make me blush like crazy and I look like a red mess. It’s all because of you.
“Okay!” Emma yelled out, making everyone in the immediate vicinity quit their conversations and join the circle, turned towards Emma and waiting for her to make the prime first move.
At first, you thought that she was turning towards Brooke on her other side, giving you enough time to prepare yourself, but then she was turning towards you, whispering the first question into your ear. In turning to her to focus on what she was saying, you missed Noah’s insignificant slap on Audrey’s arm and his whispered, “Jealous?”
“Alright,” Emma whispered, still giggling. “How long has it been since… You kissed someone? And did you like it or not?”
You didn’t want to answer that. Especially in front of Audrey- She probably thought you were another one of those useless straight girls. You weren’t completely out, but you weren’t straight, either.
You looked across the circle, and, seeing Noah whispering into Audrey’s ear and her giving him a half-playful half-angry slap, decided Fuck it.
“Four years. And no, I didn’t,” you announced proudly to the circle, a second before your embarrassment rushed in and you pulled your jacket higher up your neck to cover the splotchy blush.
Everyone leaned in as Emma slowly went to flip the coin, you praying to every god you knew to please, please let this answer remain unknown, I didn’t think it through, when the coin came flying back down.
Heads. Up.
Fuck.
“The question was, when was the last time you kissed someone, and did you enjoy it!” Emma shouted cheerfully, and as the crowd put the pieces together, laughter and cheers for you rung throughout the room. Panicking and not really sure what to do, you started to bring your drink to your lips, only to have the cup slosh all over the front of your jacket.
“Shit!” you exclaimed, sure that your face was preparing to get even more supremely flushed. Standing up, you raced upstairs and into Emma’s room and, realizing you forgot a towel, walked into the bathroom.
You started running the water, dunking the towel under and trying to get the stain out before it set, and trying to get your heart under control. You hadn’t even looked up to see what Audrey looked like, let alone if she reacted at all to your running aw-
“Y/N?”
Instantaneously, the voice coming from right behind you shocked you into dunking your sleeve-covered arm under the faucet. Turning around, you were met with the wide and regretful (but, as you could attest to, attentive) eyes of Audrey Jensen.
“I’m so sorry! Oh my God,” Audrey mumbled, reaching behind her to grab another towel. “I’m so, so sorry. That’s my bad-“
“Audrey. It’s okay,” you said, half-sighing and half-laughing as you started to shrug off your jacket, masking your nervousness around Audrey with the ruined coat. “I’ll just leave it here until I leave. It’s too damp to wear.”
You started to pull your jacket off of your shoulders, revealing your crop top underneath and accidentally exposing your midriff, which, she would also claim accidentally, Audrey was completely transfixed with, pulling her eyes up only when she realized you were turning around.
Hanging up the jacket on the outside of the door, Audrey and you both stepped out of the bathroom and onto the landing above the stairs, leaning against it and hearing the muffled music blare in from downstairs. You could feel Audrey’s eyes on you in the half-darkness, and before she could, you spoke.
“Thanks for coming to check on me,” you said, looking over the railing.
“It’s no problem,” she said, turning so that her back was pressed against the metal rail, trying her hardest to make her voice come out even at the proximity to you.
There was a tepid silence between you two again, when you spoke up.
“Four years is a long time,” you said, letting out a low whistle. “I can’t believe I admitted that. I should’ve lied.”
Audrey turned to you then, concern written over all of her features, and placed a hand on your arm. You stared, almost bug-eyed at the warmth and contact, when you realized that she was still speaking. Damn it, Y/L/N, you thought to yourself. You really so touch starved you won’t listen to your friend?
“Hey, at least the truth is out there,” she said, laughing. “Although, I’ve got to say I’m kind of surprised. A lot of people talk about you.” Like me, to Noah, she thought, but definitely was going to keep to herself.
“If it’s guys, I don’t exactly care anymore,” you said, leaning over the banister and letting out another long, long sigh. You didn’t care enough to really keep it a secret anymore; your parents knew, and so did Emma and Brooke. Audrey might as well, even being someone who was into girls and wasn’t ashamed of it.
Audrey froze, feeling time almost move in slow motion as she looked over at you, confusion painted on your face. “You’re…”
“Not straight? No,” you stated, tossing your hands up in the air. “Technically, that kind of prevents my first kiss from being valid.”
Again, Audrey felt between freaking out in ecstasy and elation and empathy. It was tough to come out to anyone, she knew, remembering back to when she told her father. And to have never kissed anyone you felt anything for? She couldn’t imagine.
“Well,” she said, leaning down and taking your hand, at which you felt close to blacking out. “Thanks for… You know. Telling me. It’s not easy.”
“Thanks,” you whispered dizzily, leaning most of your weight on the balcony again.
In a blinding second, an idea occurred to Audrey; Was it crazy? Yes. Was it absolutely batshit insane? Yes. Yes.
But did she want to? Yes.
“Look,” Audrey said, removing her hand from yours and crossing it over your chest. Her voice was close to wavering, her trying her hardest to keep it at a steady and confident level. “I know that neither of us really drink, besides what your jacket soaked up tonight, so I wouldn’t be offering if we had. But, if you want to experience your first ever gay kiss, I’d be completely down.”
You whipped over to her, trying as you might to maintain your composure. Did she just… You were keeping your hands from shaking and easily saying yes, yes, please.
Looking up at her, you made the decision before your brain could catch up with your mouth.
“Let’s do it.”
Audrey, for one, was completely blown away at the literal second it took you to answer. And, before she could really think it through, she took your hand, said “Follow me,” and led you into Brooke’s guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her with her foot. At the loud bang, you sat back on the bed and giggled, looking up through your hand at the girl you were definitely going to make out with.
Audrey walked over and sat next to you, and the panic set in you again. To squash it, you leaned over and looped your arms around Audrey’s neck, slinging your leg over hers and effectively straddling her waist on the bed.
“Is this how we’re gonna do this?” you said, worried at her momentary lack of response.
“Yes, yes, sorry,” she said, her arms snaking around and settling on your waist, causing your blush to creep back in and return. “You just… surprised me is all.”
“Well, get used to it,” you mumbled out nervously, voice cracking all the way at the close distance you were from her. You weren’t expecting much; maybe another a speech about how it was okay to be gay, but all you really wanted was-
“Maybe I will,” came Audrey’s confident voice, her deep blue eyes sinking into yours as she leaned in and started pressing kisses to your neck. You lost eye contact the second that you involuntarily let your head fall back, leaning in and so responsive to her touch that a warm feeling started to rise up in your stomach.
You got lost in the moment, your hands rushing up and running your fingers through her short, dark hair as she started to focus in on a spot on your neck that made you shiver. It felt-
“Amazing,” you moaned breathily, involuntarily snapping back to yourself and bringing a hand back to cover your mouth. Audrey, on the other hand, caught it before it could reach your lips and placed it back on the back of her neck.
“It’s okay to touch me,” she whispered to you. “It’s okay… And don’t think I don’t wanna hear you. It’s hot.”
Hearing her say that was something else; you felt your blush rise back up into your chest, and she watched as your eyes flicked back up to hers, half-smile glowing in the dim lights. “I’ve always thought your blush was cute,” she mumbled, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Never thought I’d see it up close though. It’s even better.”
She slowly reached down and started pressing her lips to your collarbone, your neck column, the underside of your jaw, the sensitive place behind your ear…
Then she stopped, and your eyes fluttered back open to find her inches away from your lips. You were suddenly so aware of where you were; straddling Audrey, your thighs on either side of her legs and her hands on your exposed midriff, when she leaned in.
And everything faded away.
It started slow, but with no lack of intensity. You brought your hand up to cup her face, pressing your lips to hers again and again and again, that swooping feeling returning in your stomach. All that you knew was that you had to be close to her, pressing your chest to hers and sighing as she slowly sucked your bottom lip into her mouth.
Before you even realized you were doing it, you were fiddling with the buttons on her shirt, undoing the first two before she pulled back.
“Is this okay with you?” she said, starting to unbutton them herself, when you stopped her hands.
“More than okay.”
She grinned back into the kiss, shifting your face from side to side as her kisses got more languid and long, hands moving all over your body as you finally finished the column of buttons on her shirt and slid it off of her shoulders. She took the lead from you then, never breaking the kiss, but tossing her shirt to the floor, giving you an incredible look at her toned arms and exposed collarbones.
You spent a second admiring the view in front of you before you both started up again, you leaning down and, with a little help from Audrey, pulling off your tank top to leave you both in just your bras.
Skin to skin felt unnameable; as Audrey laid you down and your tongue lightly swept into her mouth, you felt her lower back get warmer as she emitted a low whine. Unable to keep yourself from smiling, you leaned in again and matched her grin as you both started to ramp up. Her hands were on your face and under your skirt and yours were tracing a patch of skin on her back that she really, really seemed to like, going off what sounds she made when you traced your fingers over it.
Lost in the frantic touching and heated kisses, Audrey flipped you two over so that your back was on the bed, then dipped her hand under your thigh to sling your leg over the back of her so there was no place the two of you weren’t touching. Your mouths got more and more fervent at the same pace as your hands, her tongue sweeping into your mouth with your happily granted access, and one of her legs, between yours, moved up and brushed against you; you didn’t know if it was intentional, but it was surprising in the best way, and you involuntarily let out a loud moan, and-
“Audrey? Where are you?” came a voice accompanied by a loud bang of the door again, revealing Noah standing in the doorway. You quickly scrambled away from Audrey and grabbed a pillow to cover your exposed chest as he spluttered out an apology, panic-stricken and practically sprinting back out the door.
When the coast was clear and Noah-free, you realized that Audrey’s hand was still on your thigh, and you smiled, looking up at her as you both broke into giggles.
When that subsided, she spoke again, almost as if not to spook you.
“So…”
“Yeah,” you responded, fiddling with the throw pillow in front of your chest. “That was… Something.”
A silence fell between you again, before she spoke up.
“You know, if you’d ever like to do this again, maybe we could… I don’t know. Go out or something before?”
Your heart rushed with fondness at the girl in front of you, face so hopeful and, at the same time, a little scared, that your answer seemed to almost fall out of your mouth.
“I’d love that.”
#audrey jensen#audrey jensen x reader#audrey jensen imagine#audrey jensen imagines#scream mtv#scream fic
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Higurashi Month 2019, Day 20: Shaping Up
“You’re sure about this?”
“Very sure, Kei-chan.”
“How sure is sure?”
A sigh from the other end. “Kei-chan, Onee and I are working on our Mother’s Day surprise right this very minute. Don’t make me burn all our efforts.”
Keiichi scratched his cheek. “Right, yeah, s-sorry. Its just…you know, you’re the one who was most recently in the big city, so I thought you’d have the best idea of which books are hopping right now. I don’t know anything my mom doesn’t own already or has on order.”
“I’m telling you, this one is the bee’s knees. Do you need me to reassure you more, or are you cool?”
He looked down at the book in his lap. “Uh, yeah, I think I’m good…”
“Bye then.” Shion said briskly before he could continue with his vague notions of speech. “Tell your mom we said hi!”
“Will do, yeah.” Keiichi hung up, and looked at the wrapped novel sitting in his lap with trepidation.
How hard can this be?
“So, uh, mom…” Keiichi began nervously, holding the paper-wrapped book behind his back. “Being that its Mother’s Day and all that…I got you something.”
Aiko Maebara turned around, blinking a little in surprise. “Oh? Keiichi, you didn’t have to…”
“Yeah, well, I…” Keiichi pulled out the book and offered it to her shyly, scratching his cheek. “I know you like mystery novels and such…so I asked Shion which ones were really popping back in the big city right now, you know, since we aren’t in the thick of things anymore and she’s just left her boarding school…”
His mother flushed in surprise and pleasure, reverently taking the wrapped book from him and brushing a worshipful hand over the cover. “Keiichi! Why, thank you!”
He flushed himself as his mother wrapped her arms around him, hugging her son close. “You always were such a thoughtful boy.”
Keiichi smiled and laughed self-consciously, his blush fading as he hunched his shoulders. “Aw mom…well, you know. Its your day and all that.”
Aiko smiled and pulled away a little to fondly scruff his hair.
“That’s my boy.”
~.~
“Position clear?”
“Check.”
“Batcha appeased yesterday?”
“Check.”
“Mom due to wake up soon?”
“Check.”
“Presentation?”
“Pretentious, and check.”
Shion rolled her eyes and offered a halfhearted glare at her twin. “Which one of us was sent to a refined Catholic boarding school, hmm?” she asked archly, waving the whipped-cream-smeared spatula at her sister. “A meal that looks disgusting is going to be treated as disgusting, even if it tastes absolutely amazing. We’ve got the garnish and the plating and everything arranged just so, and as such, our already-appealing dish becomes even more appealing.”
“Pretentious.” Mion muttered rebelliously, shifting from foot to foot as she stood near the door of the kitchen. Shion tossed the spatula into the water-filled sink and sighed, joining her elder twin as the two headed off down the hall. The Sonozaki sisters had timed this to a nicety, of course –it was hardly more than a few seconds after taking up their positions outside their parents’ door that Shion, ear pressed against the paper, heard the sound of their alarm clock buzzing through the walls. Dad had obligingly offered to attend Batcha yesterday (fulfilling his Mother’s Day duties), so their way was clear as they heard Akane Sonozaki rustling around on her futon.
Shion, with both hands empty, knocked on the door, and heard the soft chuckle of their mom.
“Come in.” she said, amusement dancing in her voice at the expected Mother’s Day antics her two daughters would display. Shion slid the door aside with her foot, and she and Mion entered the room in unison, kneeling to offer their mother the (beautifully presented) breakfast dessert dish they had assembled.
“Happy Mother’s Day, mom!” the two chirped, and Akane blinked, a hand straying to her chest and eyes widening as she saw the complex dish laid out for her enjoyment.
“Oh my…girls, you didn’t have to go to such troubles for me.” she breathed in surprise. “Just your usual card o-or gift would’ve been fine!”
“Hey, I didn’t go to that ridiculously fancy European school for nothin’.” Shion said with a grin, nudging her sister with a playful elbow. “I had to show Onee how things are done, after all!”
“And there’s no effort too small to go through for our mom!” Mion added with a sunny smile, teal eyes glinting as she looked towards her twin.
Top that one, Shion.
The younger Sonozaki twin merely stuck out her tongue at Mion as their mother leaned down to inspect her tribute.
~.~
“Come with me. Now.”
“Wha- but- hauhauhau…” Hanyuu spluttered and then whimpered as Rika grabbed her by her sleeve and abruptly dragged her out the door. “Rika, slow down!”
Rika dragged her through the bushes near the Furude Shrine, and then down one of the small deer trails, heading upwards. “You know how Chie-sensei talked about the cycle of life a few weeks ago?” she asked in her usual low voice after a few minutes, dropping her childish mannerisms as soon as they were out of sight of the house.
“Hauhau, of course.” Hanyuu responded, nonplussed.
“Creatures live and consume energy, then, as they die, their flesh decays and returns to the environment, feeding it in turn.” Rika paraphrased, still dragging Hanyuu firmly through the undergrowth as the ground began to ascend steeply. “How old are you, Hanyuu?”
“Oh…” Hanyuu thought she saw where this was going, wobbling a little as they half-climbed, half-crawled up the steep face of the hill. “Rika, I don’t think even my bones will be left anywhere anymore. My mortal shell sank to the bottom of a swamp after my death, and there are many creatures that would have fed on my remains.”
“I know.” Rika responded abruptly, making a slight turn as they forced their way through another part of the undergrowth, the ground leveling out a little. “Your flesh will be gone by now, and your bones in fragments, if they even exist at all…just as it would be if you’d been properly cremated.”
Hanyuu stumbled a little as they came to a sudden clear space, with a light fringe of grass covering the stony ground, which abruptly terminated in a cliff, explaining the lack of shrubs –the dirt was too shallow and too rocky to support their roots.
She caught her breath at the view, though –it was everything one could see from the shrine, and more, because they were high enough on the mountain slope to see the roof of the Furude Shrine itself peeking out through the trees below them. “Rika…hauhauhau, this is beautiful!”
“I know.” Rika replied calmly. She tugged Hanyuu to the side a little, and pointed. Hanyuu’s breath caught again, and she instinctively reached out and squeezed Rika’s hand.
It was a stone tablet. Oh, it was rather clumsily made, and rather obviously the product of someone with only the strength of a ten-year-old girl, but it was still there, and the message behind it was staggering. No one of Hanyuu’s clan had ever made her a grave marker. Not even her daughter, Rika’s many-times great-grandmother.
A line of characters were thickly scribed down the side, a little primitive perhaps, but made with the clear intent to last.
ハィ=リューン・イェアソムール・ジェダ 羽入
Hai-Ryuun Ieasomuuru Jeda Hanyuu.
“I read up on some of the old texts to find the proper name, the name of your clan, that is.” Rika said quietly after a moment, as tears stood in Hanyuu’s eyes. She slipped her hand out of the goddess’s and turned rummaging around in the bushes nearby. “I thought, it would be a shame if no one ever memorialized you for what you did.”
Hanyuu swallowed thickly and used her billowing, salmon-colored sleeves to wipe away her tears. “They did. They built a shrine for me, and they worshipped me on its altar.”
“They enshrined Oyashiro-sama.” Rika replied, her deep voice blunt. “They forgot who died to give that name life.”
She turned around, and more tears welled in Hanyuu’s eyes as she saw the bouquet of flowers her descendant had carefully wrapped and apparently placed here beforehand. Rika walked over to the stone and laid them down, stepping back to look on it with Hanyuu.
“Happy Mother’s Day.” Rika coughed after an awkward, clumsy moment of her silence. “I made you this –I thought it…bad, that no one ever left anything for you at your grave. That you didn’t even have one, after…after all that you’ve done. And I thought, well, what better place to put it than somewhere undisturbed…somewhere that you could look out over Hinamizawa from. I thought-”
Rika’s voice trembled, and Hanyuu silently put out her hand as the younger miko fell silent. Tomorrow, no doubt, the ancient child would be back to pranking Hanyuu with spicy kimichi and her cold little comments on Hanyuu’s usefulness and lack thereof, probably denying that this moment ever happened, but Hanyuu knew, sure as the sun rising in the east, that they would both be back here in a year, and every year after, until Rika returned to the same dust she had been born from.
“Thank you, daughter.” Hanyuu said softly.
Neither would admit they were crying.
~.~
Miyoko hummed happily as she skipped along the street, the shiny gold-and-red pinwheel flashing and dancing in her hands, spinning rapidly both from the breeze of her passage and the brisk spring wind.
“Mama! Look what I have!” she announced excitedly as her mother stepped out onto the front stoop, wiping her hands on her apron, waving the pinwheel manically above her head.
“Oh, my! How lovely!” the older woman said, kneeling to take the paper confection like Miyoko had offered her a flower. “Where did you get this?”
“I won it!” Miyoko squealed, flapping her arms rapidly as her amber eyes sparkled. “I won it at the coin game and I was gonna keep it ‘cause its so, so pretty, but then I thought, since its Mother’s Day today, I could give it to you, Mama!”
“Well, I very much appreciate it.” Her mother said with a warm smile, brushing her fingers through Miyoko’s wind-tousled hair. “Why don’t you come inside and eat these cookies I just finished making as a reward?”
“Yay! Cookies!” Miyoko giggled, swinging gleefully from her mother’s free arm as the two turned and went back into the house.
The wind blew in the street, perhaps revealing a flash of green, a whispering wave of midnight blue, a haunting smile and wise, deep violet eyes, but the mirage was soon gone in the dancing waves of asphalt, broken by the excited cries of Miyoko Tanashi.
AN: @councillorsparatus, I finally did it! This snippet is actually based off a drawing by ChibiRisa20 on deviantart, and my apologies for not directly stating what the twins give their mom, but like…I don’t know what the hell that food is. It looks like a waffle, but then there’s chocolate(?) and sprinkles(?) and bacon? Or are those pink-red bits strawberries?
I’m assuming it’s a weird Japanese dish and leaving it at that. Also, Hanyuu apparently has a real name and it is literally nothing but a long string of titles concerning her otherworldly “demon” clan and their duties and she didn’t even have a personal name until Riku Furude gave one to her when they got married or whenever. Fun fact.
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Are you mad?
Orange hues kissed Snuffle’s gloved hands causing him to look up; the sun was setting on the sandy hills of Silithus and it was creating quite the display. Before the elf lay a work bench covered in various tools used for making potions and other alchemical creations. His head canted to one side, marveling at the colors that painted the sky however a soft groan broke his moment of peace. With his brows pinched he turned to stare into the tent behind him. A human male lay just within its flaps, movement showing that he was awake after a very long spell of unconsciousness.
Shuffling inside, Snuffles removed his gloves, tossing them to a corner and quickly pouring a glass of water from a pitcher kept close to the cot. “Here, drink.” Kneeling down beside the man he was gentle in his offering of the liquid. “Rest. I found you collapsed in a sand dune not far from the main road- Are you okay?” His voice carried a concerned note for the stranger’s wellbeing.
Fumbling for the cup the man was all too eager to drink, his hands shaking and weak with dehydration partnered with heat exhaustion. After a few moments the man’s cracked lips parted to speak and only a croak bubbled up. Snuffles’ head shook, “Here, try this, it’s an elixir to help moisten the throat and airways in these dry temperatures.” Fishing around in his apron Snuffles procured a small bottle, careful to put a few drops into the cup of water and then offer the beverage again.
Another minute or two passed after the human had consumed the drink and he attempted to speak again. “Am I.. still in Silithus?” Snuffles nodded his head. “Thank you.. My name is Roan, how long have I been out?”
“Only a few hours.” Snuffles patted the man’s arm, “Did you get separated from your caravan?” His brows pinched.
“Ah… No. No caravan.”
Now the elf was intrigued, “Why would anyone be out here alone without business? These aren’t exactly vacation-type dunes. Perhaps Uldum is better suited for visitation of the desert.”
“I have business.” Roan admitted, “A dwarven scavenger camp. I was to make my way to it with supplies but- Where are my supplies?” He tried to sit up and Snuffles eased him back down.
“Your pack and whatever else I could find are outside; I like to keep as little sand in my tent as can be helped. I think I know the camp you speak of, they sometimes trade with me for my healing tonics. You’ll be just fine here. Rest, travel when the sun returns. The desert gets to be rather chilly at night.” Just as Roan began to protest Snuffles placed his palm atop the human’s brow. A soft glow illuminated his hand and his patient’s words began to slur, eyes struggling to keep open until finally Roan’s body lay slumped in a deep sleep. With a quick pat to the human’s cheek Snuffles let out an almost childish chuckle, “But before you go I need you to test a few potions for me first.” Silver eyes illuminated with excitement, digging under the cot for a moment until he pulled out several long belts. Securing his ‘guest’ to the bed he double, then triple checked to make sure there were no chances of physical escape without difficulty. For the finishing touch, a collar with a bell fastened around the man’s neck.
The sound of someone clapping behind him forced Snuffles to turn, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he prepared to sling a spell of smite toward the intruder. “It’s just me.” That coarse voice was still unfamiliar to Snuffles, but his very being seemed to relax as if it knew before he did. A hunched troll stood there, staff in hand and red eyes locked on the night elf with a disapproving scowl. “Come, we need to talk.” He gestured for Snuffles to follow and with a roll of his eyes the elf followed.
“How did you find me, Thaldrin?” It was a frustrating pull, being this close to the troll. As if their souls yearned to be connected once more: both different sides of the same coin. Two halves of the same soul.
“We can always find one another if we try, don’t ask such silly questions.” Thaldrin dismissed the question with the wave of his hand. “I wish you wouldn’t collect strays.”
Snuffles snorted, arms crossing, “I wouldn’t have to use strays if I were given proper test subjects by the apothecary guilds but the only ones that would ever approve would be the Forsaken..” His chin lifted, “But they’re gross and even their experiments cause me moral discomfort.”
“You have morals?” Thaldrin’s brow raised, lips curling around his tusks in mild gest.
Snuffles’ eyes narrowed, “Har, har. What is it that you want? Or are you just checking in on me again? You’re like an annoying sibling I can’t seem to shake.”
Thaldrin’s head shook, “But we aren’t siblings. We’re the same person… How would you feel about becoming one person again?”
For a moment the elf froze, eyes wide and staring as if the troll had grown three heads. “ What? Are you mad? I LIKE being my own person. I hated sharing this body with you, my mind with you. We may be the same soul but we aren’t the same person. Our personalities are vastly different and frankly you’re a stick in the mud!”
With a sigh, Thaldrin moved to run his fingers gently over the tools laid out on the workbench. “No, I’m not mad. I was given a vision… One from Elune herself. I know, I know, I sound insane. Why on Azeroth would the goddess wish to speak to me? To us? We’re broken and I thought irreparable.. But I’ve had the same vision in my dreams and during meditation over and over. If we become one soul again we’ll be fixed. She will repair our minds and mold us together as one person again. Balanced. We can be Thaldrin Spiritleaf again; uplift our name from the tarnish of our father and make mother proud to call us her son-“ There was a danger in Snuffles’ silver gaze at the mention of their mother, even Thaldrin who was not normally frightened by his other half had to give pause.
“I’m not interested. Not just because I don’t believe in your visions, but because I also don’t trust that horrid creature of an entity you call ‘goddess’. She may be your deity but she is no longer mine. We gave ourselves to the moon, everything that we were, and how were we rewarded?” The elf’s words were sharp, anger boiling behind them. “If she were to miraculously aid us, it would be out of guilt and to save face, not to actually help us. She’s as much of a monster to watch her night children suffer as the woman who did this to us.”
It was Thaldrin’s turn to glare, “Don’t ever speak of Elune that way. I know you still believe in her.”
“Believe? Yes. Look to for guidance? Never again. Believe she has touched YOUR mind with visions? To aid us? Don’t make a mockery of me. I WILL NOT rejoin you, Thaldrin. You need to accept what we are now. What YOU got us into.” Snuffle’s teeth bare at the other male and his hands turned toward his work, straightening up the already clean space.
“ME?“ The troll scoffed, “We were the same person then. That was a WE. Why can’t you remember how we used to be? Why don’t you want to be that person again? We were HAPPY then! Now look at us! Broken! Used! Unwelcome! Both of our names illicit FEAR and ANGER! How can you be okay with this?!”
“I’m not okay with it! But if it’s what makes people not try to kill me then I’m okay with it! I’ve been left alone! If you want to go and play hero and stir feelings of joy then so be it! But you have to face the music! WE WILL NEVER BE NORMAL!” Taking a deep breath, Snuffles shoved himself away from his work and began to move around the back of his tent, trying to create space between himself and his other half.
It didn’t work, Thaldrin simple followed, his staff clutched tightly within his hand causing his blue knuckles to turn white. “You lie to yourself. You think you’re happy alone but you aren’t. Neither of us like to be left alone. We like company, friends. We both want allies, people to care about and people to give a damn about us too. Why not TRY? I’m sure if it doesn’t work we can be separated again, but I am telling you, it WILL work!”
Snuffles kept his back to the troll, teeth gritting. “I like being my own person. I want to find a way to fix our souls so that we are our own person. We could be brothers- twins! No one would know the wiser if we found you a proper elven body, not that gross troll. Don’t you like being away fr-“ A loud, hard, thwack struck the back of the elf’s head and he stumbled. Briefly he saw stares, vision turning back as his body fell forward and landed firmly in the sand.
“You will not mess this up for us as you have EVERYTHING else, Snuffles.” Thaldrin glared down at the night elf, poking him once with the butt of his staff to make sure he wasn’t moving before moving to bend down beside him. “I am sorry it has come to this but I am doing this to help us both.” He sighed, “I hate violence…” Re-attaching his staff to his back, the troll bent to scoop his hands under the large elf’s body with the intention of lifting him up.
Snuffle’s turned, sand grasped in his hand flinging it into the troll’s eyes, within his other hand a burning ball of Light that he used to claw down across the tusked face. Thaldrin let out a howl of pain, falling back and trying to get the sand from his eyes. “SNUFFLES!” He bellowed in anger. Sand began to swirl and dry, spiny roots raised from the parted sand, grasping onto the elf before him attempting to pin him down.
“What-? Thaldrin have you lost your mind!? When did I become the sane one! Release me!” Snuffles did his best to rip at the skinny little plants, their spikes causing the man’s hands to bleed, sand soaking up the blood just as the man had thirsted for water in the tent. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
“Neither do I! So stop struggling!” Thaldrin barked back, finally getting to his feet and standing over the struggling Snuffles. “The vines will stop if you do!”
A snarl ripped through Snuffles’ chest and his body suddenly turned to a transparent, shadowy figure, morphing into an orb and then re-forming outside of the thorned weeds. This was not something Thaldrin had expected; when had his other half become skilled in shadow magic? That shadowy orb turned solid once more, a firm hand gripped the troll’s arm and yanked the massive figure closer to the elf. Using his free hand he twined it’s into Thaldrin’s dreads and let out a hiss, “If you were anyone else I would kill you.” Snuffles hissed through his teeth as a massive amount of magic crashed from the elf and into the troll. No gentleness was spared as he man-handled Thaldrin’s mind into unconsciousness, tossing the body to the sand once he was sure it wouldn’t wake any time soon.
With an angry huff he kicked sand over the troll’s body. “Asshole. Now I have to move again.” Looking to his tent, then to the sky his scowl creased further. He hated working in the dark, hated missing his sleep. Not like he could sleep without a proper potion for it anyway, he’d have to forgo it this evening. Snuffles mumbled elven explicatives under his breath and began cleaning up camp; he’d have to leave his new subject unfortunately, and likely one of his spare canteens of water for his infuriating other half when he finally woke up.
His head shook and his gut told him this argument wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
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