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shadowdaddies · 4 months

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Wings of Desire

Azriel x Reader

based on this request

Summary: meeting your mate’s family for the first time doesn’t go as you hoped

This can be read on its own, or as a part three | Part 1 | Part 2

Your body hummed with content, a soft smile gracing your lips as you savored the moment. The cup of tea in your hands spread warmth through your body with each sip, its spices filling your nose with a pleasant aroma as the sound of Azriel frying eggs on the stove echoed through the quiet cabin.

Biting your lip, you admired how your mate’s exposed muscles moved, his large dark wings relaxed half-open at his back as he swayed slightly over the pan. Nearly a week had passed since you had recognized the mating bond, and while you hadn’t known Azriel long, you were already certain there was no one else you would rather spend your life with.

Memories of the past week flooded your thoughts. From finding ways to show his tender affection towards you in the cabin - cooking for you, picking out books he thought you would enjoy, affirming you with his words - to being your fierce protector whenever you were training at the Illyrian camps, Azriel was a constant source of both excitement and security that you were shocked you had ever managed to live without.

A shadow curled around the spymaster’s ear, Azriel turning over his shoulder with a knowing smirk, hazel eyes darkening as they raked over you.

“See something you like?” Azriel teased, his gravelly morning voice causing you to clench your legs instinctively. Flushing under his gaze, you licked a drop of tea from your lip, moving to rest your chin on your hand as you gazed up at your mate.

“I like everything I see,” you replied, your own tone breathless as Azriel turned, his tattooed chest bared to you as he scraped the eggs onto each of your plates. As he held a plate out towards you, you popped up in your seat, leaning across the table as you grabbed it. With a kiss to his lips, you whispered a “thank you,” the both of you taking your seats across from each other to eat.

Humming quietly, you spread strawberry jam across a piece of golden toast, grinning at the tart smell of the fruit as you raised it to your lips. Just as you crunched down on the bread, Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your gaze back to his.

Hazel eyes honed in on you, a thick swallow working down the Illyrian’s throat before he reached a scarred thumb to the corner of your mouth. It was a challenge to focus your breathing as you watched Azriel draw his thumb away, his tongue flicking out against the jam he’d collected from your lips before wrapping his own around the digit and sucking.

Seemingly oblivious to what he was doing to you, Azriel cleared his throat once more before speaking.

“I would like to take you to Velaris.” He spoke so casually, leaning against the counter as he used the side of his fork to cut through an egg, scooping it onto a piece of his toast.

He had told you of Velaris last night - his safe haven, treasured home where he lived with his family. It struck you then, what a monumental moment this was for him - for the both of you - as the spymaster of the Night Court offered to bring someone from another court to his home.

But you both knew that you weren’t just ‘someone.’ And you both knew that what was happening between you two was not a fling. This was Life Altering, World Tipped on its Axis, Head over Heels, Love.

You must have been quiet for a moment too long, because Azriel’s relaxed demeanor vanished in favor of widened, anxious eyes and a stiff back.

“I just mean that I would like for you to meet my family... And, if you are comfortable...” he trailed off, searching for words. “I would just like to show you my home.”

You couldn’t hold back the bright smile that took over your face, the joy that could not be held back as you imagined it. So far, your relationship with Azriel had been limited to your stay at the cabin and spy work. But this, this was real. This was confirmation that this incredible, beautiful male was not a dream, but your mate, and you could have a future with him.

Leaping up from your seat, you ran to embrace Azriel, his warm chest relaxing in your hold as he returned it. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your hair, murmuring against you. “So, is that a yes?”

You giggled against him, noting the rapid thumping of his heart at the sound as you said, “Yes. Of course I would love to, Azriel.”

An overwhelming sense of bliss flowed through the bond as you felt Azriel’s lips curve into a smile against your hair before tilting your head to look up at him. “We will go there for dinner tonight, then, if that is alright. Rhysand and Feyre are having dinner with the family at their home.”

You had met the High Lord and High Lady twice now, both in meeting with Tarquin and at the camps. Their kindness had surprised you, the Night Court’s leader nothing like his reputation. With an eager nod, you suddenly found yourself anxiously awaiting this evening, overcome with the excitement of meeting Azriel’s loved ones.

~~~

Adjusting the straps of your gauzy periwinkle dress, you thanked the Cauldron for Emerie. Dressing for a nice dinner was not something you had planned when you left for Illyria, but neither was Azriel. Your wings twitched in excitement as you took in your appearance in the mirror. Gowns weren’t something you wore often, and you were astonished at how beautiful you felt.

Boots scuffed, rubber soles hitting the wood harshly as the sound of liquid sloshing and splattering perked your ears. Turning over your shoulder, a gasp escaped you at the sight of Azriel, one hand on the floor in front of him as the other held a nearly-empty glass.

While you had not known Azriel long, you were certain that tripping was an uncommon occurrence for the spymaster. “Azriel, are you okay?” you breathed out, rushing forward to kneel next to him on the floor.

His cheeks flushed a now familiar pinkish hue that made you melt. Az simply gaped at you, awestruck as his eyes shone with emotion. “You are the most beautiful sight. I am not worthy of your presence,” he admitted, almost more to himself as he stayed dazed in front of you.

The sound of your laughter, like morning bells that awoke his soul, brought Azriel back to reality. You shook your head, standing as you offered your hand to help him stand with you.

“I will have Feyre paint that image one day. You, standing in the mirror - a female so ethereal that everything around her is abhorrently ordinary. You are incredible,” Azriel breathed the last words, a scarred thumb rubbing your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss. Lightning shot through your bones, as though his kiss was an effervescent light that gave you life.

Reluctantly, the both of you pulled away, catching your breath as Azriel wrapped his arms around you. With a nod from you, he wrapped you both in darkness, carrying you away to the City of Starlight.

Darkness faded away, Azriel pulling back slightly as he took your hand in his and turned towards a large mansion. It was understatedly beautiful, clearly a modest home where the High Lord and High Lady often hosted family. Behind the home, you could see the mountains upon which you stood moments ago, now playing the part of a backdrop in a stunning painting.

Azriel led you forward, hand sliding to the small of your back as he held you close in a protective, claiming manner that made you smile with pride. As though she sensed your presence, the High Lady swung open the front door, a smile on her full lips as she greeted you.

“Hello! You look beautiful, please come in,” Feyre greeted, catching you off-guard with a warm hug before moving to greet Azriel the same. Rhys came up behind her, the lack of power emanating from him making the male seem almost normal. It was jarring to see them like this - so domestic and comfortable, a true family.

The couple guided you and Azriel down a grand hallway, the home simple in decoration with the exception of grand, beautiful paintings that lined the walls. “Those are all painted by Feyre,” Azriel whispered in your ear.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered back. Raising your voice slightly, you gushed to Feyre as you passed a picture of Rhysand on the balcony of the Summer Court palace. “Your art is so beautiful. I didn’t realize how talented you are.”

With a small laugh, Feyre waved off your compliments. “It’s a nice outlet. I like to commemorate moments with my family that way,” she explained, ushering you into a dining room where several people stood around a table.

You weren’t usually nervous when meeting new people, but finding yourself face-to-face with your mate’s family, you suddenly became very conscious of everyone, intent on making a good impression. Cassian greeted you first, the war general much more jovial than he had been when you’d met prior in training. He introduced you to his wife, Nesta, who greeted you with a polite, knowing smile. “I’ve heard much about you from Azriel... and Emerie,” she added with a wink, her eyes moving to Azriel as the stunning Valkyrie pulled him in for a hug.

You laughed at her comment, gesturing to your dress. “Emerie lent me this dress for tonight, actually.” Nesta opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“It is a beautiful dress,” a small voice sounded from Azriel’s other side. You stepped around your mate to see a petite female, similar to Nesta and Feyre but breathtakingly striking as her brown doe eyes assessed you. Her stiff form betrayed her kind words, tension building in the room as everyone turned towards her.

Fae instincts took over, your need to claim your mate guiding your hand to grip Azriel’s arm more firmly than necessary. “Thank you, very much...?” you replied, a polite but questioning look prompting the gorgeous fae for her name.

“I’m Elain - Feyre and Nesta’s sister,” she explained with that same strained politeness that had your hackles rising. You didn’t miss the scathing look Rhys shot towards Azriel, everyone else seemingly oblivious as the High Lord bode everyone to take their seats.

Azriel pulled out your chair, placing a kiss to your hand before taking the seat next to you. The muscles in his hand stiffened slightly, alerting you to look around him where you saw Elain taking the seat on his other side.

While everyone else continued to eat their meals, enjoying the casual conversation, you could hardly breathe as Elain continued whispering to Azriel, giggling at everything he said. Rhys watched you with caution, sending an encouraging smile as Nesta attempted to make conversation with you about the books you had been reading.

The world stopped turning when Elain put her hand on Azriel’s thigh, your vision red as an animalistic growl left your lips. Everyone in the table turned towards you in alarm, surprise on their faces as they took in the situation.

The usual dark power that Rhysand emanated returned, bringing a chilly air to the room as he spoke in a deathly calm voice. “The three of you,” he nodded at you, Azriel, and Elain, “come with me.” Like ashamed children, you left your seat, yanking your hand from Azriel’s when he attempted to reach for it.

Fists clenched, you stormed from the room and followed the High Lord into his office, his eyes matching yours in their glowing fury. Azriel timidly clicked the wooden door shut behind him, just in time for you and Rhys to shout at him in unison.

“What the fuck, Azriel?” You screamed, both regret and pleasure snaking through you at how he and Elain flinched at your anger.

Rhys put a placating hand on your arm, stepping forward as his power granted him a raw authority over the room. “Azriel, it appears as though you did not inform Elain,” violet eyes flicked towards you, “or your mate, of the situation.”

Elain’s jaw fell slack, brown eyes lining with silver as her long curls whipped around her face. She glared at Azriel. “I thought that mates didn’t to you, Azriel. At least, that’s what you let me believe when you pursued me despite my having a mate.”

It was as though you had been shoved in ice water, floundering for breath in the shock as you began to comprehend the situation. Your voice cut through the air like a knife, Azriel flinching visibly as you spoke. “You are in a relationship?”

It was Elain and Azriel’s turn to speak in unison.

“Yes,” she spoke.

Just as firmly as he said, “no.”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, hatred shining in their eyes before Elain broke into tears. “Of course not,” she whispered. “I should have known. I’m a pretty face, but not worth fighting for. Isn’t that right?” Her voice broke on the last words before the beautiful female ran from the room, leaving heavy hearts behind.

Rhysand only paused for a moment before following Elain from the room, closing the door behind him in a silent request for you and Azriel to speak alone. A long moment passed as you stared at the door, half-ready to walk through it yourself when Azriel sounded next to you.

Daring to turn your head, your heart cleaved in two at the sight of tears running down your mate’s cheeks. His eyes never left yours, body angled fully towards you as he stayed determined to remain with you. He spoke slowly, carefully, in a measured tone. “I did not have a relationship with Elain. There was mutual interest, and she clearly thought it was more than I did. We never even kissed.”

Hating how your heart softened hearing that, you began to pace back and forth. Thoughts formed, and you stopped in front of Azriel with anger and sorrow in your voice. “She has a mate. So clearly you don’t care about what that - what this - means in the same way that I do if you were with her.”

“NO.” Azriel spoke louder than you had ever heard the quiet male. He sighed, walking towards you cautiously, reaching out a hand before dropping it cautiously. “I didn’t care about mates, because I didn’t think I would ever have one. I have been labeled as ‘different’ my entire existence - mocked, ridiculed, tortured for it. I settled for what was in front of me because I thought I would never find someone so perfect. Not just perfect for me, but the most incredible, kind, clever, ethereal female I have ever met. I still do not know how the Cauldron could bless me with you, but I will fight until my dying breath to keep you happy. I am sorry that I hurt you. I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

A tear fell down your cheek at his words, sniffling through a small laugh as you replied. “And I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you how worthy you are of extraordinary love, Azriel.”

A burning sensation at the tips of your wings drew a gasp from you - your eyes searching Azriel as you saw dark swirls of ink appear on the tips of his wings. “That makes a bargain,” he whispered. You looked up, seeing swirls of black decorating the tips of your white wings, a beautiful contrast to their color. “I’ve never seen a bargain mark left on wings before,” he murmured, his finger lightly tracing the marks on your feathers.

You bit your lip, head growing dizzy with pleasure at the feeling when Azriel pulled away, smirking. Stepping closer to him where you were now chest to chest, you brought your fingers to trace the marks on his wings, reveling in his reaction to your touch. “Well, there’s never been anyone like us,” you whispered, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, breaking apart as you both smiled too broadly to continue.

“You need to speak with Elain, and apologize,” you stated. Azriel nodded in agreement, taking your hand in his as he opened the door to leave the study. You were shocked to find Azriel’s family all standing around, turning towards the two of you and your matching tattoos with intrigued looks.

With a glance back at you, Azriel broke the silence. “I need to go speak with Elain.”

Amused smiles filled the room, knowing glances being exchanged. Feyre let out a small, almost choking laugh. “Maybe another time, Azriel. Lucien stopped by. He and Elain went for a walk.”

You didn’t miss Cassian’s especially broad grin at the mention, but dismissed everyone else when Azriel turned towards you. “I will talk to her another time, love. For now, let me show you Velaris,” he promised, and you gave his hand a loving squeeze as you nodded, following him outside towards the city and your future.

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kleftiko · 1 year

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❦ ANGEL

cw: mature, inexperienced!hawks (love this shit), reader is a stripper

PART 2 | MASTERLIST

“so… you’re a regular here?” hawks noted with forced amusement. he was trying his best to be casual, not look at the girls too long, keep a nonchalant face, but keigo had never been to a strip club before.

“it’s on my patrol route, so the girls know me.” present mic waved to bartender, who sent him a kiss back.

“and we’re here because…”

“its your birthday.” hizashi stated, taking a seat in front of the stage. hawks followed suit, shifting around a bit in an attempt to get comfortable. “it was either i bring you here, or midnight.”

it only took a split second for hawks to appreciate her not being there.

“point taken.” he mumbled as a waitress placed a drink in front of him. he smiled at her in appreciation for a moment before looking back at mic. his companion opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by an enthusiastic—“hizashi!”

keigo’s attention immediately darted to the girl making her way towards them. a shiver went down his spine. her smile was carefree, eyes only focused on the two of them as she maneuvered through the crowd. her small outfit was followed by small, white wings attached to her bra—like an angel—and her exposed skin was dusted in a silvery glitter.

hizashi stood up to greet her, placing a kiss on her cheek as she hugged him. he sat back down and motioned to keigo.

“look who i brought!” he told her. keigo’s breath caught in his throat as she looked at him.

“the number 2 hero!” she greeted him. “haven’t seen you here before. this your first time?”

“its his birthday.” hizashi took a sip of his drink.

“happy birthday!” she clapped her hands together with a grin before she turned back to mic, “the girls are in the back if you wanna say hi.”

hizashi excused himself, and left hawks alone with the angel. she seemed much more relaxed than he was as she focused her attention on him. and he realized he hadn’t spoken a word to her yet.

“is it messy?” he asked.

she gave him a confused look. he lifted his hand to motion at his chest, unable to speak, for some reason.

she looked down at her own boobs. “oh! the glitter? yea—its body glitter, so not as messy as regular, but it keeps the married men away from me.”

she giggled slightly and hawks couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. her hand came out slightly to touch his wings and he almost moaned. “you’re not married, are you?”

he shook his head quickly. she smiled softly.

“wonderful.” she retracted her hand and moved to leave. “im gonna go on stage soon, i hope you enjoy my dance.”

“good luck.” he squeaked, and she sent him a wink over her shoulder.

hizashi didn’t come back in time for the angel’s dance.

but that was fine with him. the only thing hawks could see was her. the music faded out, the people dissipated, and there was only her and her dancing. the spell she put him under didn’t leave when she was finished. it took a couple minutes for keigo to come back down to earth, and realize that he was uncomfortably hard in his jeans. he tried shifting inconspicuously, but no one was paying attention anyway, and his eyes caught sight of the angel walking back over. his hands left his crotch instantly.

“hey again.” she smiled. “hizashi paid for a lap dance for the birthday boy before my shift is over.”

“you’re leaving?” keigo asked.

“well, i have to go home at some point.” she held out her hand to him. he took it without hesitation as she began to lead him through the floor. they came to the private rooms, passed where the lap dances were happening in the little cubicles, and hawks became a bit suspicious.

“why are we here?” he asked her as she closed the door behind them. the music became muffled, the lighting in the room made the glitter on her body shimmer.

“your wings are a bit big for out there.” she told him, stalking around him like a predator. her fingers came back to his feathers as another shiver took over him. “and you looked uncomfortable on the floor.”

“that obvious?” he submitted when she pushed him to sit down on the bench.

she giggled a bit and nodded with her hands on his shoulders. he blushed.

“you look like you’re gonna explode.” her eyes flickered down to his pants for a second, and keigo felt his dick twitch a bit. “you sure you want a lap dance?”

“please.” his hands moved to her hips on instinct, but upon feeling her hot skin, he retreated quickly, not wanting to over step boundaries.

her hands left his shoulders and grasped his, bringing them back to her hips. he looked up at her to make sure it was alright and she nodded.

“its okay,” she said. “you’ll be gentle.”

#mha hawks #mha x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks scenarios #mha smut #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #sub hawks

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aquaticstyles · 3 years

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to do list

hi everyone! i know it’s early, but i stayed up all night writing and simply couldn’t wait to post. 4.8k of some bf!harry ahead (including my first attempt at smut... pls feel free to tell me if it sucks). of course, reblogs + feedback make my heart soar 💓💕💖💘💗💞

You think the scene before you cannot be real. Without a doubt, you must be dreaming, sleepwalking, eyes still seeing through a rose-colored, innocent hue that can only belong to your imagination.

Dew drops cling onto freshly cut blades of emerald grass, spray-painting the ground in a silver cast, sparkling, glistening. Birds sing a perfectly pitched hymn, their orchestra being the gentle whistle of the wind that rustles the branches of the trees in your backyard, new with springtime buds the bees generously catered to. There are the roses, sitting pretty in their beds, still slightly drooping from their abandonment of the glowing mass in the atmosphere, pouting in velvet pink. A dragonfly brushes past the French doors in front of you, and you swear you notice it's hesitation, almost tempted by the glass, almost fooled by the facade, almost daring to dart into the comfort of your home, blocked off by the rest of the outside world. Then there's a lone butterfly, fluttering, strikingly contrasting against the green with its pompous red wings outlined intricately in black ink. The sun rises slowly over her horizon, sluggishly being pulled on a string by an invisible hand buried beneath bundles of clouds pocketed throughout the sky turning more blue as each second ticks by. Watercolor, drops of salmon and peach twirling about one another, accidentally on purpose creating an orange hue to the world below, that is now waking again, a fresh start, a new day.

You simply must be dreaming.

Picking apart the clementine you had selected as your sunrise viewing snack, you watch the scene before you unfold, a rubix cube solving itself before your very own eyes. Sweet and sour juices cascade down your throat, and you notice the uncanny resemblance the fruit in your palm mirrors to the morning. You know the picturesque serenity will soon fade away, turning sour as children awake from their slumbers and car engines are started back up again, but you enjoy the sweet while it remains.

Startling you from your daze, you feel a warm body suddenly press up against your backside, arms encircling your waist, cold palms resting against your exposed stomach, creating a valley of goosebumps in their wake. You relax immediately into his touch, snuggling into him and sighing as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Your hands are freezing," you whisper to him, careful not to disturb nature.

Without a word, he smooths his palms up and down the skin of your tummy in a fast pace in hopes of warming them. After doing so for a couple seconds, now satisfied with the new temperature, he sinks his hands cheekily beneath the band of your underwear, fingertips resting on each hip, using your cotton panties as a blanket.

You almost snicker at his antics, but choose instead to offer him the last piece of your fruit, hovering it over where you imagine his mouth to be near your shoulder. He happily accepts your donation, chapped lips wrapping around your two fingers, a tongue darting out momentarily, teasingly. Out of the corner of your eye you see a smirk fall upon his face as he munches on the fruit, the deep crevice of a dimple forming for only a second. You focus your gaze back on the sun, who has already risen significantly higher in the few minutes Harry had stolen your attention.

As if to thank you for orange, Harry presses a kiss to your skin, then decides after five seconds that one was not enough, for you feel his lips drag across the expanse of your bare shoulder, making their way to the base of your neck. A sticky residue of juice is left behind as his tongue licks your skin, sucking, nipping, biting, causing your eyes to flutter shut and an appreciative hum to rise from the back of your throat. Your head tilts back, allowing the man showing you his love more access. His palms move from their previous shelter underneath your panties, a single finger ghosting up your skin, poking your bellybutton, until it moves beneath the thin tank top you're sporting, tracing the valley of your chest. Two palms encase your breasts, massaging slowly, and your nipples pebble beneath the all-too-familiar touch. Humming again, you get lost in the way Harry has encased you in your third dream of the day.

"You're bein' nice. Should give you a piece of my orange more often," you snicker as Harry flicks your nipple once before encircling his arms around your waist again, hugging you, sinking into your quicksand. He gently sways the two of you, molten together like two pieces of chocolate underneath a beachy sun, one silhouette.

"Mmm..." he hums, and you know he's about to say something else as he presses one final peck beneath your ear, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

A few minutes pass by in silence, and you patiently await the first mumblings of your boyfriend, expecting the special, raspy voice that belongs to early Harry. Unlike the rasp that occurs after a show, or the rasp after a bitter fight, this one is your favorite, because you're the only one who gets to hear it. You're the only one that gets his mornings.

"Wanna have sex?"

You blink at the sudden abrupt and blunt statement interrupting your sentimental thinking. Chuckling softly at your two contrasting mindsets, you tease him, "Bored already? It's not even 7 yet."

"Not bored," Harry lifts his head, pretending to be shocked at your accusation as he spins your body around in his arms so he can finally get a good look at you. He notices the smile already plastered on your face as you turn into view, and he thinks that he would do anything to capture you in this moment and keep it locked away in his chest forever. "Jus' wanna have sex with you. Love havin' sex with you."

You run your hands up Harry's bare chest and begin to fiddle with the chain hanging around his neck, thumbing over the plated cross that has ironically swung over you countless times, "Gotta check this off the to do list?"

You're only joking, but the sudden frown that washes over Harry's face makes you think he didn't pick up on that. Suddenly ever-so-serious, creases form between his brow, "Sex with you is never something to just mark off my to do list."

"No?" you raise your eyebrows and fold your hands behind his neck, tugging gently at the curls there, twirling them around your pointer finger.

With a quick and firm shake of his head to confirm his sentiment, he places a loving kiss on your cheek, then the other one, then on the center of your pout, lingering there for a moment before sneakily slipping his tongue into your mouth and massaging it languidly against yours, the tangy bitterness of the orange encircling the two of you, making your toes curl and your hands slide into the curled mess sitting atop your lover's head, knots from a deep slumber, a rats nest begging for a comb, but your fingers will simply have to suffice.

"Love you," he mumbles as he pulls away, speaking his mind yet directly from his heart all at once.

You can't help but grin at him, the sunlight from the view you were ogling over mere seconds ago casting a perfect golden hue onto his tanned skin. You're so close you can see every pore, every beauty mark, every scar. If you closed your eyes you would be able to trace his skin with ease, knowing every landmark on his road map, knowing every bit and piece of Harry that makes him Harry. He's so familiar to you, a body you know sometimes better than your own, a body you're always longing for, regardless of the countless of times you've made love by now. There's something so innocently intimate about this moment, something so casual and domestic.

You wish to capture him right now, in this very instant, with curls that have definitely looked worse but definitely looked better, glistening pink lips that are still slightly chapped from their lack of use through the night, a slight stubble around his jaw and below his nose, eyebrows crisscrossed in a chevron pattern that is entirely unnoticeable unless you're peering directly into his sleepy eyes (paired with faint purple circles underneath), in nothing but a pair of briefs, one leg hiked up significantly higher than the other (most likely due to the starfish position he chose to undertake in sleep last night), and lock it away in a special place in your mind forever.

This is Harry. Your Harry. The version of him reserved just for you.

And how could you say no?

"Okay," you smile as you watch his eyes light up like a school boy sneaking his first kiss against the tree on the playground, a million fireworks exploding in a forest.

In one sudden, swift movement, Harry swings your body over his shoulder with ease, as if you weigh nothing more than a sheet of paper. Now seeing the world upside down, you erupt into a burst of giggles, your hair swinging below you as your boyfriend begins to maneuver around your home. The sunrise slowly defocuses, shifting out of your view as the replacement sunshine carries you towards your bedroom.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking you know," you manage to speak out between laughs, and you imagine there's undoubtedly a bulging vein at the center of your forehead from your current position.

"Hush," is all he says in response, paired with a couple pats on your bum that is so conveniently placed on his shoulder. "Bed or shower?"

"Uhhhh," you begin, now having a perfect view of your living room as Harry now stands in the doorway of your bedroom. Drumming your hands on the backs of his thighs in contemplation, you weigh your options, "Last time we did it in the shower you almost slipped and broke your neck so-"

"Your fault for using so much bloody conditioner-"

"Thought you liked my conditioner, said it smelled like roses-"

And then he's throwing you on top of the mattress, your back colliding with the plush duvet, and head sinking into the array of pillows Harry simply has to have (the first night he spent at your place, you only had two. the next time he came over, a dozen new pillows sat crammed in his backseat, claiming it was good for "neck and back support"). You barely have a second to think before he's crawling over you, palms placed on each side of your head, his knees trapping you against your hips. Fanning out, your hair creates a halo around you, making you look even more of an angel the man hovering above you sees you as. Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his rings twinkle in the singular beam of sunlight peaking through your curtains, and you can't help the smile that warms your face.

"What are yeh smilin' at?" Harry grins, peering down at you below him. He looks ethereal, tattoos contrasting and standing out even in the darkness masking the room, thick biceps flexing as they hold his body up above yours, smiling in that way he does only when he's around his other half. He belongs in a gallery, framed in gold trim, available to be studied and fawned over. Yet here you are, selfishly adoring what the masses wish they could view, an unbothered bliss.

"Nothin," you respond, locking your arms behind his neck, scratching his scalp lightly, it feels like the first ten chews of bubble gum, squishing a marshmallow between your fingertips, a fruity piña colada on a hot summer's day, and he hasn't even touched you yet. "just love you."

And you do. So much it consumes you. So much it hurts. So much you'd dive head first into shark infested waters if it meant feeling his palm against your cheek.

And if you thought that smile of his couldn't possible grow any bigger, you're proven wrong yet again. He catches your lips between his, suckling on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue in your mouth, licking into you as if you're the last bucket of water on earth and he's parched, shriveling at the seams. It's like his one mission in life was to move his tongue against yours, and he's perfected his craft flawlessly. His body presses down against yours, needing contact, gently grinding his bulge that is growing with each rotation of his hips against your clothed core.

"Love you so much," he mumbles in between sloppy kisses, noses bumping every so often, causing a few giggles to interrupt the sweet silence.

After removing your shirt in one swift movement, desperate to reveal the miles upon miles of skin he never tires of studying, his lips soon travel south, leaving a piece of his heart in their tracks from the corner of your mouth, to beneath your ear, to your jaw, to your breasts, to your tummy, to your hip bone.

"Can I have a taste darlin'? Please? M'achin' for it," ringed hands run up and down the sides of your abdomen before they encircle your thighs, spreading them apart so a mess of caramel curls can settle between them, nails creating half-moons onto your skin.

A breathy exhale releases from you as he brushes his nose exactly against where he knows your clit is, ghosting the pad of his thumb against it once teasingly. Hooded green eyes peer into yours from their position between you, and you think you'd like to have this photograph etched into your brain for eternity. Your lover, in between your legs, begging to lick you until your thighs shake.

"Can smell yeh angel, makin' my mouth water. Gonna let me taste yeh fo' a bit?" His accent is huskier, low and raspy, shavings of dark chocolate sprinkled on a bitter raspberry tart.

And again, how on earth could you say no?

"Please H," you grasp onto the cusp of a chestnut curl, gripping onto it as your life depends on it as Harry quite literally dives into you.

Your underwear is thrown and forgotten across the room as his lips attack your folds, tongue licking into you and spreading you apart in a way that only Harry can do. You're a watermelon cracked open on the deck of a yacht, juice dribbling onto to sugar-high-chasing chins. Prickles of his facial hair rub against you in the most agonizingly amazing way, and you yelp when he delivers a harsh suck to your clit right off the bat, moaning and whining underneath his touch.

His tongue doesn't miss a single spot, devouring you and causing your heart to thump harshly against your chest. Suddenly and abruptly, Harry inserts a finger into your entrance, curling it inside you and pumping it in and out a couple times before adding another. His fingers and tongue simultaneously work you, and if your brain hadn't turned to jelly, you'd be delivering a speech consisting of his name and various other praises.

"Gimme a good one, lover," he demands, his lips vibrating against you. When his lips move to suck harshly on your clit yet again as his fingers repeatedly hit that one cushiony spot inside you, you're sent over the edge, curling your toes, moaning relentlessly, and jerking your hips abruptly, causing harry's large palms to trap them back down against the mattress.

He's a professional, an artist, painting you with each lick of his tongue against your nerves, each curl of his fingers inside of you, making a masterpiece out of you as you ride out your wave of pleasure, coasting it until it crashes against the shore. His starry night.

And when you finally chase down your high, and Harry's still licking your folds, you tug his roots away from you, wiggling from overstimulation. A whine leaves Harry's cherry lips as he's tugged back to you. A smirk warms his face, a dimple reappearing, and his thumb brushes the corner of his mouth, catching some of your arousal, before it sinks between his glistening lips. Sucking the remnants of you from his finger, he hums, "tastes like clementines."

His words send you into a frenzy, a vampire flung into a blood drive, and you grasp onto his shoulders and flip him roughly onto his back, straddling him and trapping his lips in a kiss before any objections can leave them. His hands encase your back, scratching here and rubbing there. You can still taste you on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and when you take his lower lip between your teeth, he lets out a throaty groan, lifting his hips to rut against your sensitive core to relieve himself for just a moment.

"Achin' aren't you baby?" You ask, tracing your fingers over the butterfly stamped on his chest, to the ferns above his v-line, to the sparse patch of coarse hair right above his underwear that sits low on his waist. Palming over the fabric, you feel how hard and thick he's gotten, and you can only imagine how frustrated he must be.

"Fuck, yeah. Fuck me angel, please. Always achin' for yeh," Harry whimpers, green eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he watches you teasingly toy with the band of his underwear, tracing the skin right above where he needs you most.

You tap his hip bone twice, and he obliges by lifting his hips, allowing you to drag his underwear to his feet and fling them across the room, undoubtedly joining yours somewhere. He loves when you take charge, loves when you tell him what to do without even verbally saying anything. You could do anything to him, and he'd love it. He's so caught up in your orbit he'd completely miss the asteroid hurtling towards him at a thousand miles per hour.

And when his cock springs up against his stomach, tip red and glistening with precum, your mouth literally waters.

How the fuck can a dick be that pretty?

Crawling back over to him, you gently twist your fingers around his member, giving him a few pumps that causes his head to roll back against the pillow, veins bulging in his neck as a loud groan leaves his open lips. His eyes flutter shut as you stroke him, and you're nearly about to go down on him when he interrupts your thoughts.

"Put me in darlin', won't last if yeh keep doin' that. Wanna feel your pretty cunt wrapped around me, yeah?"

And you don't have to be told twice.

Lining him up with your entrance, you slowly sink down onto him inch by inch, hissing at the faint burn that always comes with him stretching you out like this, especially after his tongue already worked wonderful magic on you mere minutes ago. Harry moans, praising and chanting your name in whispers. His face is pulled in pleasure, eyebrows furrowing, lips open as heavy pants leave them.

As soon as you get to the base of him, you take a moment to adjust before slowly working up a rotation of your hips, circling around him and rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone in the process, sending an overwhelming wave of goosebumps down your spine. Harry's hands move up and down your back, to your ass, to your pebbled nipples, massaging and coasting over every single centimeter of skin he can reach.

Creating a rhythm, you begin to sink up and down on his cock, causing your tits to bounce as you pick up the pace. He's filling you up in the best way imaginable, hitting every spot, encompassing every inch. You can't tell where he stops and you begin, waterfalls inter-joining and cascading down together, intertwined in harmony and mind-numbing pleasure. The sound of your skin slapping together is music to your ears, a sweet symphony of your bodies exuding love.

"Harry god," you moan when his tip reaches that one spot inside you, eyes rolling back, tilting your head in a way that broadcasts the expanse of your neck dotted with purple bruises from Harry's lips, and your chest, breasts glistening with beads of sweat.

"Like that angel? Like when yeh ride me like this?" Harry groans at the sight of you, a masterpiece fucking him so well he nearly forgets his name. You're glowing, a shining mass far too bright for him, and he almost debates jetting off for his sunglasses. "Know yeh do. Fuckin' perfect. Ridin' me so well angel, tha's it."

It's paradise, toes sinking into beds of sand, observing the sun as it sinks into the ocean, leaving an array of creamsicle in its path, a massage from warm palms after a hard week hunched over a computer, finally finishing the book you've started three times, dog-earing the pages with passages that jump out to you, a cold shower when the air-con is out, sweaty bodies lost under the brief escape of the chilling water. It's perfect. It's you and Harry.

He can't take his eyes off you, not wanting to miss a single second of this, barely blinking so he can come back to each frame and rewatch this film over and over and over again. Moving his palms against your sides, he watches as your breasts move up and down, and he can't help the next words that tumble out of his mouth, ""Your tits are fuckin' dynamite have I ever told you that?"

Locking eyes with your lover, you smile widely, pearly whites broadcasted in an ear-to-ear grin at his ability to say something so completely Harry in this intimate moment. You let one giggle escape your lips, briefly shaking your head at the man, causing a lock of your hair to fall out of place and over your eyes.

His knuckles brush the stray away so it doesn't block your view of him beneath you, and then he cups your cheek and grins, an eternal sunshine radiating his heat onto you, "Wha'? It's true. Your tits are fuckin' incredible. Can't believe I get to see 'em."

Feeling nothing but pure adoration, you observe the same look in his eye, his smile sparkling beneath you, eyes twinkling into yours as if a projector is relaying the words "I love you" in a cursive script across his irises. Blinking once, taking a snapshot of his face right now, you lean into his touch and place a kiss to his palm, "Thanks lover."

Clenching your walls around him, Harry loses his train of thought and releases an ear-splitting moan, one that nearly makes you cum in that very instant. His hand moves from your cheek to your side again, both palms squeezing your hips. He bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood, his cock twitching as it buries inside you, skin on skin, absolutely no barriers. "My lover," he mumbles, eyes darting off to where your bodies are connecting, watching your pussy slide up and down his cock.

Your thighs begin to burn, and you feel that all too familiar feeling bubble in your abdomen, foam overflowing a cappuccino. Placing your palms on his chest, you hover over him, grinding your hips repeatedly, "Your lover. The only one."

He wraps his hands around your wrists, bringing them to his lips to kiss the back of your hands, then pecking each one of your fingers, mumbling in between each token of his affection, "Only one that can fuck me like this angel, only one."

Once he releases his hold on your hands, he moves one of his fingers down to your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a way that causes you to cry out, "Fuck, Harry, I'm gonna-,"

"There we are," he smirks, watching you lose it before his very eyes, and he knows when your brow begins to furrow that you're close to unraveling again, "go ahead darlin' come on your cock. It's yours."

Your movements become sloppy, no longer fluid and concentrated like before as you run after your orgasm. Still desperate to prolong this feeling as longer as possible, you pick up the pace even more, riding him faster despite your body's oncoming exhaustion. His finger continues to linger where you need it, playing with you and sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

"Fuck, that's it," Harry's raspy praises causes a flush to rise to your chest and cheeks, "Not far behind yeh lover keep goin'."

He loves the way you look when you come, the way your face twists and your mouth drops in the shape of an O, strawberry lips glistening in ecstasy, begging for a taste. Sweat running down your chest and lingering on your temples, messy hair frizzy from the pillow and his fingertips, golden skin shining in the low-light. But he particularly loves the way you never ever shut your eyes, even though sometimes the waves are so euphorically catastrophic you're tempted to let your eyes rest to absorb the moment fully. Yet here you are right now, candle wax melting above him into a sea of warm rose water, peering directly into his eyes, revealing every word you wish you could say. A whimper, Right there. A moan, I love you.

And once he's viewed the sight beautiful enough to blind him, he's coming as well, his cock twitching as he releases warm spurts of him inside of you. As soon as you feel him soften, you lift up off of him and collapse on top of his sweaty chest, limbs exhausted and body spent from your two orgasms. You rest your head on a swallow, the steady heartbeat of your lover echoing softly into your eardrum, gooey caramel summersaulting over cotton candy skies, a chilling ice cube plummeting and disappearing into a hot tub, steaming, steady, Styles.

Harry presses a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering for a moment, I. two, Love, three, You. One hand rests on your piping back, scratching lightly up and down, while the other strokes your hair away from your face, a touch so soft and delicate as if he'd break you into a million pieces if he's not too fragile. Precious cargo.

"Love you," you mumble, nearly half asleep as his touch sends another wave of soothing calmness through your nerves, unaware that the exact same words were repeating over and over through his brain in this moment.

Harry smiles, a wide, bunny-tooth grin, and even though you can't see it, you know it's there, for his heartbeat quickens ever-so-slightly.

"Love you, angel. So much."

It's laying here, post-sex, in the comforting silence of your home, that you think you quite like these moments more than any others. The ones that are so simple and habitual one would deem them unimportant, a cup of tea gone cold, last Sunday's paper. These moments are what make you feel the closest to Harry, behind closed doors, just you and him, in your own bulletproof bubble, making love, starting and ending each day, together. And you think you quite like the idea of spending forever in that bubble, watching the sunrise, sharing your clementine, and spending the day tangled in sheets with the man that has irreversibly stolen your heart.

Theirs was a brief beauty, autumn leaves before they fall to the ground, trampled on, forgotten. Yours was forever, an easy love, one that didn't have to try, one that flourished, even when the odds were pent against you. An easy love, a flourishing love, a habit you never wish to break. As simple as a well-known recipe, caramel-colored pages wilting from being passed by generations. As complex as learning the avenues and allies, hiding spots and hidden treasures of a new city. He was everything, the light, the dark, the beginning, the end.

And when you wake up the next morning, peering over your shoulder in the doorway of your shared bedroom to see that all too familiar starfish spread out and suctioned to the sheets, you smile, knowing that in only a couple of minutes he'd notice the left side of the bed had gone cold, springing up out of bed in search of his personal radiator, his lover. You trot to the kitchen, and right as you reach to grab a clementine, you notice a note that had not been there the night prior, stuck to the thick peel of the fruit.

"To Do List:

- Go on a run. - Propose to girlfriend. - Have sex with girlfriend fiancé. - Call Mum. - Buy more clementines."

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Diplomatic Daemati Part 2

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: @itscheybaby recommended doing more parts for this series and I had more ideas so we’re going for it. Part 1 Here

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) At 2,310 words this isn’t quite as long as the first one, but given I wrote 1,200 words per one shot for years, I’m apparently doing better lol

^^^^^

The week between the High Lords’ meeting and my first visit to the Night Court passed quickly. My soldier training was temporarily halted in lieu of diplomatic training. As well as Thesan giving me the rundown of what was known about the reclusive Night Court.

The day arrived for my departure, and I realized I didn’t know how I was supposed to get there. I could fly—but that would involve crossing the Day Court territory and would take more than all day. Hours longer than I could afford without angering Rhysand. Rhys, I guess. I didn’t have enough power to winnow, either, but I doubted Thesan would know where to drop me off; if he could even take me at all.

I mused over breakfast how I was supposed to get there when a crack of thunder almost made me drop my toast.

High Lord Rhysand stood in the mess hall otherwise empty of any legion soldiers besides officers, posture relaxed, hands in his pockets, tendrils of night wafting off of him. “Good morning, emissary,” he greeted casually. My fellow officers stared. “Ready to go?”

“Allow me to grab my bag,” I said, rising from my bench. He waved me off. Dismissive, casually aloof. I went to my officer’s quarters, grabbed my bag, and went back to the mess hall. Rhys held a hand out for me. “I’ve never winnowed before.” My trepidation made him smirk as I reached out and took his hand.

His grin was feline. “I’ll be gentle then.”

I doubted that, but didn’t dare say so out loud.

Winnowing was darkness and wind buffeting me from all sides. Pulling me apart and slamming me back together simultaneously. I clenched Rhys’ hand so tight my knuckles blanched.

Then it stopped. “Welcome to the Night Court,” Rhys remarked.

We were standing in a beautiful palace of moonstone. It reminded me of the sunstone of Thesan’s palace, but different—grand in a simple but elegant way. I found I liked the aesthetics of it better.

Rhys let go of my hand.

“Being daemati,” he began without preamble as I stared at the palace perched atop a mountain peak, “is about more than just reading the current thoughts of those around you. It’s not just speaking mind-to-mind or taking control of someone entirely.” He strode down the open-air hall to a glass table and sat. I took the seat opposite him at his indication and set down my bag.

“Being daemati,” he continued, “is having everything they are laid bare before you. Every memory, every secret, every muscle, under your control. You can alter their memories, stop their blood from flowing, shatter their minds to turn them into a living ghost. It’s a gift not to be taken lightly.” He lounged on his chair without a care in the world, but his eyes burned as he stared at me. “You understand?”

I nodded. “I understand.”

The High Lord seemed satisfied by my response. “Good. Then let’s get you settled in and then we can properly begin your training. Daemati lessons in the morning, diplomacy in the afternoon. You’ll be here for a week, and then you will return home for the time being. High Lord Thesan will be in touch discussing when you will return. When you’re alone in the Dawn Court, I suggest you practice what we work on here.”

I nodded again.

Rhys stood, I followed. He strode back the way we came down the hall.

“You’re allowed to fly, too, by the way, while you’re here. But please do not go farther than this peak and the ones adjacent. All the mountains in this range look the same and I do not have time to find you or send out a search party if you get lost.”

Reasonable. “Of course.”

“Thank you. Shall we get started?”

We made it to the back of the hall, where a large wall of marble with doors inset in it was waiting. I followed Rhys through one, down a flight of stairs, and into a beautiful guest bedroom. I stared around at the room, jaw gaping. “This… is not what I expected. No offense,” I said.

An amused smile appeared on his face. “No screaming, no torture chambers, no blatant debauchery?” he asked.

My ears and neck burned in shame. “Well… the Night Court has a… harsh reputation,” I admitted.

“It’s not an unwarranted one. But the wicked members of my court reside elsewhere. Deep beneath this mountain, actually. They’re not allowed up here. And you will not be interacting with them. Your business with me has nothing to do with them. So, you won’t be subjected to the worst the Night Court has to offer.”

“Thank the Mother,” I breathed. My wings drooped a bit with relief. Rhys smirked, crossing his arms across his ribs and leaning against the doorframe.

“Go ahead and unpack, if you wish. Then meet me upstairs in the hall.”

“Okay,” I said. Rhys slipped out of the guest room. I set my small leather rucksack next to the armoire. I hadn’t brought much in the way of clothing. A few semi-formal outfits, my ceremonial uniform, some sleep clothes, and that was pretty much it. There wasn’t much to unpack, so I didn’t bother. Just stared around the incredible room—including the pool-sized bathtub that allowed water to flow into thin air off the side of the mountain.

When I’d stared my fill, I went back upstairs to the open-air hall. Rhys was lounging in that chair at the table again. He must have known I was there, but he didn’t turn to acknowledge me.

I hadn’t made it halfway when claws slammed into my shields. Dark ones. Powerful ones. My shield held strong, but I felt it strain. I grunted.

“Huh,” Rhys mused. “For a self-taught daemati, you’ve got a pretty good shield.”

“Thank you,” I said, walking forward to retake my seat across from him.

His power slammed into my shields again, before I could reach him. Much stronger this time. My shield shattered before I could reinforce it.

Those claws dug into my mind. I wondered if they hurt non-daemati. They made me stagger, landing on one knee and definitely bruising my kneecap. Push me out, Rhys’ voice said in my head, so loud and so overwhelming that I put my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block it out. Shove me out!

“How?” I demanded. Tears welled up in my eyes. The claws twisted—and the tears drained. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Everything was under Rhysand’s control.

He stood from the table and strode over to me. I couldn’t move my eyes to track his progress. His boots appeared in my line of sight and he crouched in front of me. A claw twisted and my eyes looked up to meet his. Out of my control.

“Shove me out of your head,” he said. Calm. Collected. Controlled.

How?! I pleaded internally. Everything was so dark—overshadowed by such immense power… it must have dwarfed even the other High Lords’ reserves…

Shove. Me. Out.

Darkness. His power was darkness.

I was a Peregryn soldier of the Dawn Court.

In my head, I clamped down my surging panic and released my own power. The streaks of dawn broke over his shroud. I sent each shaft of light to his claws. Pushing them out of my head, building my shield behind them. More rays of the rising sun pierced the clouds of night. With a final push, I hurled those claws away from me, slamming my shield back into place and reinforcing it. Once. Twice.

Control of my own body flooded back to me. I slumped, face-first, to the moonstone floor. Panting. Sweaty.

I heard a soft thud. Rhysand sat on the ground. “Not bad,” he remarked. “The light. Not a choice I would have thought of from you. I’m impressed—and, bear in mind, that’s not a compliment I give easily.”

Chest heaving, I pushed up to meet his eyes. He was sitting with his ankles crossed, long legs stretched out before him, arms braced on the floor behind him in an easy-going posture. “You don’t believe in starting slow, do you?” The demand came out as more of an exhausted plea—which I hated. I wasn’t weak. I was a soldier—an officer—not some downy fledgling. I was just new to this level of skill.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t taught slowly. Besides, I had no intention of doing you any harm. There was no real danger. But teaching you the most important skills right off the bat will give you greater advantages if you ever come across another daemati.”

My breathing finally slowed. I wiped my sweat off on my sleeve. My wings were still trembling. I flapped them half-heartedly to ease out the tension. Rhys’ eyes followed them.

“What… what did you see?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You said—” I cleared my throat. “You said every memory is laid bare before you, when you’re in someone else’s mind. What did you see?”

“I didn’t. This is a training exercise. Despite what the other courts are led to believe, I’m not heartless. I understand that as an officer in Thesan’s aerial legion, you probably know a few secrets of the court.”

I scoffed. “Bold of you to assume High Lord Thesan trusts me that much. Did you see me at the meeting last week? At the far end of his left-hand side? The lowest rank?”

“He trusts you enough to defend his life in a room full of the most powerful men in Prythian,” Rhysand pointed out.

My expression dropped. I’d never thought about it like that.

Rhysand laughed. “Did that just occur to you?”

I didn’t reply. Just pushed myself to my feet. I fluffed my feathers with a shake of my shoulders and shook my hands through my hair in an attempt to fix it up a little. Rhys stood in one smooth motion.

“Can we sit for the next part? That trip hurt my knee.” I gestured to the bruise forming on the bottom of my kneecap, exposed under the hem of my trousers.

“Sure.”

I preceded him to the table and sat down. The chair—I hadn’t paid it any mind before, due to being used to it in a Peregryn legion—but the chair was built to accommodate wings. I looked back at it, and then faced the front again. Rhysand sat opposite me. I pointed to the chair. “This is made for wings,” I said.

He nodded. “I have Illyrians in my lands, remember? Two of them are my closest counsel,” he said.

“I remember. I guess I just never considered… that you’d have chairs made for them here. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making assumptions. About this place. About your court in general. It’s rude.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Assumptions and expectations are how we survive and prepare for the worst to do so.” He shrugged.

“You really didn’t look at any of my memories?”

“No. I will respect the terms of our business.”

“Thank you.”

“I will ask, too, that you do the same. When we get to that point in your training.”

“Of course,” I said. I definitely didn’t want to see what was inside his head. The wickedness of the Night Court’s reputation… any atrocities he’d caused or committed… I didn’t want details.

He inclined his head to me. “Thank you.” He looked out to the mountains surrounding us. “We may not get to that this week, though. We’ll see.”

I nodded.

“The next bit of your training we can discuss before demonstrating. They’re the two biggest rules of being daemati. The first is: if you delve into someone’s mind, keep your exit open so a fellow daemati doesn’t leave their shields down and slam them shut behind you, trapping you in their mind. You become their slave. No control over anything. Unable to get out.”

My wings shuddered as a chill went down my spine. Rhysand smirked slightly.

“Second rule: be prepared to see things you might not like and definitely don’t want to see. Unpleasant memories. Evidence of your father having an affair. Lives are messy and complicated. It’s part of being daemati.”

I nodded. “I know that part already,” I said.

The smile turned from amused to an understanding purse of the lips. “I know you do. Based on what you said at the meeting.”

His claws lashed at my shields again. They glinted harmlessly off. My reinforcements held. Rhysand nodded in approval. “Not bad.”

“The third rule, I’m guessing, is always be prepared for your mind to be attacked at any moment.”

“That’s optional, but yes.”

“So, if I may ask, my lord, what was with the droning at the meeting?”

“I sensed another daemati in the room. Magic brushing my shield, passing through the room against everyone else’s. I just couldn’t pinpoint who. So I sent out a wave to test who it was. You resisted for a long time, actually. Longer than I would have imagined. Then you screamed. Which startled me, actually. I didn’t know it was you, at first. But during the mingling afterward, I saw you alone. Everyone else was talking, but you were shaking. Your wings were trembling. I took a guess. Figured I’d wipe the encounter from your mind if I turned out to be wrong.” He smirked. “But I wasn’t.” There was the arrogance I recognized. I rolled my eyes. He chuckled. “Sorry. That was probably unpleasant.”

“Understatement,” I muttered.

Another laugh. Then he went quiet. “Shall we move on to the next demonstration? About leaving the way out open?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Yes. Let’s move on.”

#Diplomatic Daemati #Part 2 #Diplomatic Daemati Part 2 #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction

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xiaomoxu · 3 years

Text

Lucien - From the Heart Date

SPOILER ALERT!!

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

Recently, the company undertook a variety show on love. Today is the first day of filming of the new program.

The gate of the studio is facing a leisure park. After winter, the fallen leaves of the platanus will cover the road and creak when stepping on it.

There are occasional wild boars here, but nearby residents always place cat food for them in conspicuous places, so their lives are quite moist.

He always eats chubby, lying on the fallen leaves in the sun.

It happened that Xu Mo had a lecture today at a nearby hotel, and we made an appointment to have lunch together in this park.

But the work in the morning ended a little later than expected.

When I arrived in the park in a hurry, Xu Mo seemed to have been sitting on a bench for a long time.

The winter sun poured a lot of wine on his shoulders, drawing a warm light on his slightly drooping side face.

After running his fingers across a few lines of headlines on the news, he casually turned a page of the newspaper lying on his lap.

Perhaps disturbed by the sound of the paper, the magpie, which had been resting on the treetops, suddenly spread its wings to win the sky, hovering around the plane trees behind him.

With a "click" sound from the phone, Xu Mo raised his head and met my sight in the golden sun.

I was about to speak, but Xu Mo laughed a step ahead of me.

Xu Mo: Don't be sorry, it didn't take long.

MC: Professor Xu knows how to read minds, he can guess what am I thinking.

Xu Mo: Mind reading is simple, and so will you. If you don’t believe me, you can try and guess what I’m thinking now.

MC: You should be thinking how to punish this late person?

Xu Mo: Well, a good guess.

MC: Why not punish her to eat dinner with Professor Xu at night.

I sat down next to Xu Mo. He put away the newspapers and took out the coffee and sandwiches prepared for me from the paper bag.

Xu Mo: It's a good proposal. However, your new show has received very enthusiastic response. The filming of the last few issues should be very busy, right?

MC: These two days are okay, and no matter how busy the work is, it is no more important than eating with Professor Xu.

I took the coffee and opened the drinking spout on the lid of the cup, and a hazelnut scent spread immediately, making the noon breeze mixed with the sweetness of winter.

MC: How about you, how about today's lecture?

MC: Sneak out during lunch break...

MC: It should disappoint many professors who want to have lunch with you and take the opportunity to exchange a few more words, right?

Xu Mo gave a frank hum, but his expression was always relaxed and casual.

Xu Mo: It doesn't matter, I have a valid reason, they can understand.

He crossed his legs, leaned back in the chair and squinted.

Xu Mo: I told them that I was in charge of the program as a consultant and encountered some problems during the filming, so I had to take the time to communicate with the producer at noon.

I was stunned for a moment.

MC: Professor Xu, based on my assessment of the status quo, it can be understood as: Have you lied to them?

Xu Mo showed a serious expression.

Xu Mo: If the producer is willing to talk to me about the shooting of the show, I think this cannot be called a lie.

Xu Mo: How is it, has the problem you mentioned to me been solved?

During the shooting of this love variety show, something unexpected happened to me.

A female guest told us after the filming of several episodes of the show that she really had a feeling for a male guest on the show.

She proposed an idea and wanted to make a confession part in the program.

This is not only a brilliant idea in terms of program effects, but also fits the theme of the variety show. After several discussions, we decided to cooperate with her in planning.

But the specific way of confession made us tangled for several days.

MC: At that time, we were a little too solemn when we wanted to give gifts. We were deliberately alone and afraid of embarrassment.

Xu Mo turned to me with his arm on the back of the chair, listening patiently.

Xu Mo: And now, is there a conclusion?

MC: Of course~ I am very professional in doing matchmaker.

I vividly described to Xu Mo the opinions that the program team finally reached.

MC: We are going to put her confession note in the clue box in advance.

MC: This is a puzzle-solving session of a two-person team. When the time comes, the male guest will be alone to open the box.

MC: If he is surprised when he sees this note, it will be Happy Ending!

After listening to my description, Xu Mo sighed.

Xu Mo: It takes courage to express your feelings frankly.

Xu Mo: Girls, are always braver than I thought.

The prosperous sunshine shrouded Xu Mo, and I looked sideways at his silhouette overlapping with the light, and every corner of my heart was covered with light emotions.

There are long white clouds floating in the sky, I am holding hot coffee, and my thoughts are also floating slowly.

MC: The moment when ‘liking’ happen, the feeling of heartbeat becomes a seed.

MC: It will grow instinctively, facing the sun and rain.

MC: As for what kind of flower will eventually bloom, it may no longer be important.

MC: The important thing is an instinct.

I leaned closer to Xu Mo, looking at him tightly with my eyes, making a meaningful hint.

MC: As long as this person's eyes look at me, the sun will pour down, and the seeds will surely break through the soil.

He propped his chin and smiled faintly.

Xu Mo: Is it the same instinct as moths attracted to fire?

MC: .....

I suddenly stopped talking.

Xu Mo showed some doubts.

Xu Mo: Did I say something wrong?

MC: Hahaha although it is a bit horrible... but what I think of is a big mosquito lying on the lampshade.

The warm atmosphere was inexplicably broken, and Xu Mo's expression was emotional.

MC: So it's better not a moth, it can be a better looking insect.

Xu Mo: .....

Xu Mo: Haha.... hahahahaha

I don't know why I got into his smile. Xu Mo laughed out of nowhere. He even stooped slightly and put his forehead on my shoulder.

After a while, he raised his head and looked at me, still smiling while talking.

Xu Mo: Well, it's not a moth, it's the instinct of the world's best-looking insect to attack the source of fire.

Seeing that Xu Mo was in such a good mood, I couldn't help but want to tease him a little bit, so I deliberately made a distressed expression, sighed and lowered my head.

MC: What a pity....

Xu Mo: What's wrong?

I took the last bite of the sandwich and patted the crumbs on my fingers, pretending.

MC: The atmosphere was so good just now, I could have taken the opportunity to kiss you.

I caught the slight astonishment in Xu Mo's eyes, and learned his tone mischievously.

MC: I'm teasing you, don't be nervous.

Suddenly he got up and stepped in front of me, bent down directly, and got close to the distance that crossed my breath.

The clear eyes in front of me fell into a pale yellow halo, swaying gentle ripples.

He did nothing, was silent, and looked at me quietly with these eyes.

One second, two seconds, five seconds...ten seconds.

I lowered my gaze subconsciously several times, but every time I lifted it up again, I could see an inch of smile on his lips.

Damn it, lost again!

I turned my face in discouragement, put on a stubborn expression and no longer looked at him, he gave a triumphant smile, and pressed his lips to my forehead.

Xu Mo: Okay, I have to go back to work.

Xu Mo: The spare key is still in the same place. If you can't find it, remember to send me a message.

The voice was soaked with warmth, as if the sun had melted in it all winter.

I feel my auricles are burnt red, nodded.

At the end of lunch time, I hurried back to the studio.

In the afternoon, I mainly took some empty shots with very little content. The ending time was two hours earlier than I expected.

According to the agreement with Xu Mo, I went to his house in advance to wait for him.

When the door was pushed, the wind from the balcony exposed the corridor, blowing a bunch of papers hung on the wall. I quickly closed the door and walked to the paper curiously.

MC: When did Xu Mo paint these...

A thin hemp rope hung on the wall, and seven or eight semi-finished paintings were clamped on them with wooden clips.

All the paintings are me.

I was standing in the snow, I was squatting on the ground to pick up maple leaves, and I was standing in the wheat ears during an outing...

The reason they are said to be semi-finished products is because Xu Mo only gave them half the color.

Many scenes still have traces of sketches, only me and the things around me have color.

It is like a drop of paint falling in water. The color in the middle is dense. The more it spreads, the lighter the color.

But there is only me in these paintings...

I personally made the next decision and took out the easel from the corner of the balcony.

MC: But...

I looked down at my cashmere coat. If I rubbed the paint, it should not be easy to wash.

After a short hesitation, I pulled out a white coat from Xu Mo's laundry basket, which he had not put in the washing machine, and replaced it.

I'll help him wash all these later.

After I was ready, I rolled up my sleeves, picked up the paintbrush and traced Xu Mo's profile on the drawing paper...

Time always flies quickly when you focus on doing things.

When I raised my head again, the window was already a little gloomy, leaving only a faint golden sunset on the curtains.

There was a creaking sound from the door. Once I looked back, I found that Xu Mo had already walked in.

Xu Mo: Sure enough, you were earlier than me.

He put down his briefcase and put on slippers.

Xu Mo: Are you painting?

MC: Uh, yeah~

Xu Mo: It's a good pastime. I'm still worried on the way back. You won't know how to pass the time.

I put aside the paintbrush, stretched my waist, and scratched my wrist.

MC: Although I used Professor Xu's drawing board without authorization, I have a reasonable use.

I removed the half-colored draft from the drawing board and showed it to Xu Mo excitedly.

MC: Although the grading is a little frustrating....

MC: The color of the hair is darker, the complexion on the face is whiter, and the lip color seems too red.

MC: But on the whole, it still shows 80% of the beauty of Professor Xu.

MC: How do you rate it?

Xu Mo didn't speak, but just stared at the painting in my hand and looked again.

He lightened his tone, and gently ran his fingers across the paint on the painting, and the wet color was on his fingertips.

Xu Mo: The painting is so good, I like it very much.

Seeing him a little lost, I shook the painting in my hand in front of him again.

MC: Andㅡit has a little secret!

I took one of Xu Mo's paintings, overlapped the two papers, and clamped it in between.

Although the brushstrokes are different and the colors are very different, the backgrounds of the two paintings can blend together well.

The golden wheat field connects to the azure blue sky, me and Xu Mo are facing each other in the painting, and our eyes intersect.

Naturally as if this is the original picture, there should be two people

MC: It didn't turn over!!!

Before I painted, I didn't expect that my technique had advanced to this level.

Xu Mo stood behind me at some point, stretched out his hand to embrace my waist from behind, and pulled me into his arms.

Xu Mo: The painting is very good, I really like it.

I look back and stuck to the his side profile.

Xu Mo: I also like the paintings you paint, but if the paintings are the two of us together, I would like them better.

Xu Mo tightened his arms.

Xu Mo: I didn't mean it.

Xu Mo: Otherwise, if you talk about it, people don't have themselves in their memory. How do you draw a picture of two people?

MC: Hm.

MC: You're right.

Xu Mo's chuckle came in my ears. I pressed against the warmth of his chest and looked at the painting in front of me.

MC: Xu Mo, are you painting these, is it something to commemorate?

MC: I look at these paintings. They are all scenes from our previous trips. Some of them are from a long time ago.

Xu Mo: It is a part of memories, but it is not a memorial.

Xu Mo: It's just that these pictures are all in my mind, so I simply painted them.

Xu Mo: Or...

He paused suddenly.

Without urging me, we fell into a long silence.

The setting sun outside the window has completely sunk below the horizon, and in the dim room, the sound of the two people's interlaced breathing one after another

The gloomy light cast our shadows on the wall. From this angle, I saw that his bent waist ridge showed a slight arch.

The skin on the side of the neck is filled with a moist smell, which is the breath of Xu Mo that I am most familiar with.

Xu Mo: MC, there are some people in this world.

He spoke slowly, his voice was always calm, and his arms tightened again around my waist.

Xu Mo: Not realizing that "heartbeat" is the beginning of all beautiful stories

Xu Mo: When they find that they have the emotion of "like", the first thing they feel is uneasy.

Xu Mo: They will choose to suppress themselves, resist the occurrence of "likes", and always remind themselves not to fall into this emotion.

Xu Mo: The heartbeat they feel is a complex emotion mixed with anxiety.

Xu Mo: For such people, it can be difficult to express yourself frankly.

Xu Mo put his chin on my shoulder, and stretched out his hand, rubbing his palm on the drawing paper in front of him.

Xu Mo: I have been practicing this candor since a long time ago.

Xu Mo: What you see is the result of practice.

MC: ....

I was speechless for a while and didn't know how to describe my feelings at the moment.

He suddenly bent over and picked me up, strode to the front hall, and put me on the table.

Dark blue night was thrown into the room, and the deep eyes that were close at hand had dark gutters, and they were silently conveying something.

Xu Mo: Or maybe I paint these paintings just to tell you what kind of flowers the seed planted in my heart bloomed.

The ice layer, which had been covered by snow for a long time, finally cracked a tiny mark and made an inaudible sound, but it clearly fell into my ears at this moment.

What followed was that the invading ice tide finally broke through the heavy ice and flowed into the spring.

I fixedly looked at him, as if finally seeing the person in front of me as the person I knew best.

Xu Mo: You are right, the upward growth of seeds is an instinct.

Xu Mo: Even if you know that you will risk tears when you build bonds with others.

Xu Mo: Even if this effect can be explained by factors such as dopamine, phenylethylamine, norepinephrine, and endorphins, I cannot suppress this instinct.

He paused and took my hand to his lips.

Xu Mo: I am willing to obey this instinct.

All the language that expresses emotions is stuck in my throat, and there is no way to convey and vent it.

Xu Mo smiled and came up.

When our lips touched, I saw the tide surge in his eyes.

Xu Mo: .....

All the senses are overwhelmed by such turbulent emotions, as if falling into the deep sea, the hands we hold together are tightly clasped.

Sanity is slowly being pulled away, only the hot breath is getting stronger and stronger.

I opened my eyes slightly, and saw the most straightforward expression in his eyes, which he always used to be silent.

MC: Xu Mo....

Between my lips and the tip of my tongue, I called his name softly, as if reading a mark on my heart.

Xu Mo: Hm..

Slowly, Xu Mo's lips and teeth went down and gently bit on the side of my neck. I was itchy by him. Several times I tried to turn my head to avoid, but I was caught by him.

He seemed to be aroused, and nibble all the way from the side of the neck to the earlobe.

I stepped back half an inch, and he went one foot in until he forced me to the corner, completely circled into his arm.

MC: Xu Mo, you shameless...

After I protested in a low voice, he finally let go of me slightly, his eyes full of interest.

Xu Mo: I know.

Xu Mo: But no matter what I want, you will satisfy me, won't you?

MC: Bad guy.

He has an innocent tone.

Xu Mo: Is this a bad guy?

I nodded heavily.

He put on an expression of serious thinking, but reached a conclusion within a few seconds.

Xu Mo: Apart from making you a little irritated, there seems to be nothing wrong with being a bad guy.

Xu Mo: Besides, your face now is really cute.

Xu Mo: People can't help but want to bullied the cute.

MC: ...

MC: You are still righteous!

Xu Mo: Oh, yes.

Xu Mo smiled, buried his head on my shoulder, and exhaled gently.

Xu Mo: MC, Do you know what instinct brings me?

He opened his mouth softly and whispered.

Xu Mo: Happiness.

Xu Mo: A pleasure in which desires are satisfied and worries are filled.

Xu Mo: In other words, it is this kind of happiness that makes me unable to resist this instinct.

His hand slid across my waist, cupped my cheek, and kissed every inch of my skin.

But every time, it was just a light touch.

Not a strong desire, I feel more of a gentle invasion at this moment.

From the side of the neck to the cheeks, from the corners of the lips to the eyes.

Like tides over the ankles and fine sand over the toes.

He distanced himself and looked into my eyes carefully.

Xu Mo: I want to thank the light coming from these eyes.

Xu Mo: Let the seed in my heart bloom a beautiful flower.

Hot fingertips ran across my skin, Xu Mo clasped my hand and pushed me completely against the wall.

The fine kisses linger on the side of the neck, and he sucks lightly and hardly, leaving warm red marks on it.

The night enveloped the city.

The deep night mixed with the beautiful blue slowly spread out, and the deep background color was reflected in Xu Mo's eyes.

Xu Mo: I am glad I did not miss the beginning of this wonderful story.

Xu Mo: As for the ending of this story...

Xu Mo: What do you hope it looks like?

I thought for a while, but couldn't answer.

MC: I didn't think about it.

MC: But it must be better than the beginning.

I stretched out my hand to pull Xu Mo's tie, and skillfully pulled it out of the collar.

However, the brain becomes clear inexplicably under the action of complex sensory organs, and plays back one memory after another.

MC: In fact, at the beginning, I was not always firm, and I was a little uneasy, a little bit uncertain.….

MC: I often feel that you are in front of me, but so far from me.

Xu Mo paused slightly, but did not stop.

Xu Mo: And then?

I tried to think about it, and couldn't help but giggle.

MC: I'm so happy, so happy that could forget this anxiety

MC: You look happy when you look at me, and you are happy when you talk to me.

MC: If you stay with me for a little while, I can even be happy all day.

Xu Mo reached out and stroked the side of my face, sighing in a low voice

Xu Mo: Silly girl.

I pulled on his collar, trying to get him closer to me.

MC: Xu Mo, I want to hug you.

MC: ... also want to be held by you.

Xu Mo pulled me completely into his arms, tightening his arms hard enough to prevent us from leaving a little gap.

I clung to his embrace and kept in mind every bit of his feelings.

Looking back now, maybe all the good stories in the world have their beginnings to follow.

But someone stood in front of me, and I was very happy because of it.

Then he looked at me, and my heart bloomed.

---------- END ----------

I’m sorry if there’s some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) thank you for read it~ ^^

#mlqc spoilers #mlqc translation #mr love spoilers #mr love translation #mlqc lucien #mlqc xu mo #mr love lucien #mr love xu mo #mr love date #mldd date #mldd lucien #mldd translation #MLQC

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ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

~Kurama~Dramatic END~

Warning!!! Sexual content below because.....Yes! You guessed it right! Kurama just needs a reason to touch her,

Chapter 26

--------Part 1--------

A few days after Kurama's declaration to learn how to be romantic....

Kurama: "So this hot springs, huh?"

Yoshino(blushing): "Kurama! Your wings! Cover your wings!"

Kurama: "It's alright, no one's here."

Kurama, stretching his wings comfortably in the warm water, says back to me.

(I never thought I'd end up in hot springs with Kurama.)

I hid my body with a body towel in the murky white water.

Then I started thinking about what happened earlier today.

------FLASHBACK-----

Yoichi: "Huh? You wanna be romantic?"

Kurama: "Yeah. What exactly do you do when you fall in love?"

Kurama asks a sudden question as soon as he enters Yoichi-san's room.

Yoichi: "Hmm...it depends on each individual."

(That's right.)

Kurama: "Give me a proper answer or die."

Yoichi: "Scary~"

Yoshino: "Kurama! Don't threaten people..."

Yoichi: "Hehe...It's really unbelievable to see Kurama asking for others' opinions. I don't know what kind of sorcery is this. But don't worry, I'll give you some tips and tricks."

(You're so reliable!)

Kurama: "Then spit it out."

Yoshino: "Kurama!"

Yoichi: "Relax Yoshino. I'm used to it."

Waving his hand in a relaxed expression, Yoichi-san continued to speak.

Yoichi: "How about a short trip? You had a hard time on the battlefield, right? A short trip will help you guys stretch your wings and relax. Start from there."

Kurama: "Is that how all relationships start?"

Hehe....Kurama's cold stare is incredibly cute. Even Yoichi-san is giggling.

Kurama: "I don't see how being in a different place is going to change anything."

Yoichi: "You are a very unemotional person, Kurama. You see, when you fall in love, you'll feel the world around you changing. You'll start feeling different and sometimes end up doing things you don’t usually do."

Yoshino: "....I think I understand what you mean."

Kurama: "You do?"

Yoichi-san nods in agreement as Kurama watched us cluelessly.

Yoichi: "You'll get to know each other better if you go to a hot spring. I know a nice hot spring that you can go to on a day trip. I hope that will help."

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

Kurama: "But I don't see what's the point of bathing in hot springs. If all you want to do is soak in water, then we can do it in an ordinary river too, right?"

Yoshino: "Wow! Your feathers are falling off..."

He stood up and flapped his wings, sending a huge splash from his black wings.

(Speaking of bathing in a river, when I met Kurama again in Kamakura....he was bathing in a river.)

The memories of that time are vivid in my mind.

------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: “—-What an ‘unpleasant surprise. Who gave you the permission to be in my sight?”

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(I thought you were going to kill me that time....)

Same as that time, I looked away from Kurama's admiringly well-formed body as much as possible....

Kurama: "Why are you spacing out?"

Yoshino: "....!?"

He grabs me by the arm and pulls me up, exposing my body under the sunlight.

Yoshino(blushing): "....What are you doing?"

Kurama: "I don't want to go on like this. You have to teach me how to enjoy the hot springs."

Kurama said, paying no attention to my embarrassment.

(Come on now....!)

(It's no use trying to teach Kurama about the concept of ‘shame’. If this happens...)

Yoshino(blushing): "Soak your shoulders for now."

Kurama: "Like this."

Holding me in his arms, Kurama dips into the hot water...

(Good. Now my body is hidden.)

Yoshino(blushing): "Now keep counting slowly till 100."

Kurama: "That's too much."

Yoshino(blushing): "You have to soak slowly to get warm to the core."

Kurama: "All right."

Surprisingly straightforward in his reply, Kurama hugged me from behind.

(!!!!)

Yoshino(blushing): "W-What is this position?"

Kurama: "You didn't specify how to sit while taking a dip."

I tried to resist, but he held me tightly and his hot breath hit the nape of my neck, making me lose my strength.

Yoshino(blushing): "....Don't talk."

Kurama(evil smile): "Don't you want me to count?"

------Part 2-------

Yoshino(blushing): "....Don't talk."

Kurama(evil smile): "Don't you want me to count?"

Kurama’s voice contained a horrifying and dangerous sweetness.

Kurama: “1..2..3....”

(Ah..)

One of Kurama’s free hands slides over my skin under the hot water.

Yoshino(blushing): "...What...are you...?”

Kurama: “What’s wrong?”

Yoshino(blushing): “Mmm..mm....”

(His hands are going in all directions...not good...)

I felt a sweet numbness at the touch of his hand crawling across my breasts.

Kurama: “I’ll continue. 4..5..6....”

Yoshino(blushing): “Haa....ahh....wai..ahh...”

My skin was softened by the hot water and his fingers played with my pink nipples casually.

Kurama: “7..8..9...”

(No....more....)

Yoshino(blushing): “D-Don’t...do...in...outside like...ahhh....”

Kurama: “10.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Ahh...”

Suddenly a finger moves down between my legs out of nowhere and my body jumped.

Yoshino(blushing): “Nnn....ah....”

Kurama: “I see. The warmed body responds better. Plus...you don’t have anything to cover. So I can touch you as much as I like.”

Yoshino(blushing): “This...is not...have you enjoy the hot springs....”

(I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s doing....)

Kurama: “Keep enduring it, till I reach 100.”

Our tightly pressed bodies and his lips on my neck make me go crazy.

Yoshino(blushing): “Mm...hot....”

Kurama: “Do want me to stop? Tell me if you want to get out of water.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Ahh...too bright....”

Kurama: “You’re so selfish.”

(I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT ESPECIALLY FROM KURAMA!!!!!)

Kurama: “Yoshino, it’s annoying. You count from where I stopped.”

(Sure! I’ll count quickly and get out of this humiliation...)

Yoshino(blushing): “11-12-13-14-15-ahhh.....”

Kurama(evil smile): “Count properly, or you’ll have to start from the beginning.”

I trembled as I felt his hot tongue over my earlobe.

Yoshino(blushing): “Because....Kurama gets in the...way....Mmm....”

Kurama(evil smile): “I’m just enjoying the hot spring...or more accurately, I’m enjoying soaking in the hot springs with you.”

(...This is terrible....can’t count...like this...)

Kurama: “Keep counting.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Mmm...14...”

I reflexively obeyed his orders which were given in a low voice.

Kurama lifted one end of his lips when he saw that....

.................

(I’m totally flushed....)

Kurama: “I had a nice bath for the first time in a long time. I completely understood the benefits of hot springs.”

As we walk through the flowery field near the hot springs, I glared at Kurama with my red cheeks.

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

1. Oh yeah...

2. I couldn’t enjoy it..(+4/+4)

3. Good for you...

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

Yoshino(blushing): “Too bad, I couldn’t enjoy it....”

Kurama: “Stop complaining. I treated you well enough. You were so exhausted, that I had to carry you all the way to my room. Be grateful.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Yeah. And WHO made me tired?”

Kurama: “It was me.”

It was so refreshing to hear someone saying that without taking any offense.

(At the end of the day, I couldn’t fight back because of his straightforwardness.)

Kurama: “I heard that the cold weather makes humans sick. Let’s go back now.”

When Kurama takes my hand....

Yoshino: “Hm?’

Kurama: “....?”

(I wonder if that person crouching in front of the bushes is a visitor of the hot springs too.)

(But he looks familiar...)

Kurama: “....! That’s!”

Ibuki: “Hm?”

Yoshino: “Ibuki!”

(No way!?)

When he turned to look at me, all at once blood drained from my face and I backed away.

Kurama: “-----Why are you still alive? Well, who cares? Let’s continue from where we left off, Ibuki.”

Kurama looked at Ibuki with an icy cold look.

Ibuki: “Shut up, Kurama. You’ll wake the kitten.”

(Hm, kitten?)

Kurama: “...........”

Kurama obediently kept quiet and looked at Ibuki’s hands with a disinterested face.

A white fluffy kitten was sleeping comfortably in there.

Yoshino: “Umm......?”

Kurama: “Don’t ask, Yoshino. It reminded me of one of this man’s incomprehensible tastes. He-----has a strange obsession with cats.”

Ibuki: “What’s so hard to understand? They’re the cutest thing in the world.”

Despite his complaint, his palm was moving back and forth across the kitten’s back lovingly.

(That was unexpected!!)

Kurama: “Still, die.”

--------Part 3-------

Kurama: “Still, die.”

Yoshino: “Wait! Not here....”

I felt the wind around us start to blow unnaturally and hurriedly grabbed Kurama’s arm, which reluctantly stopped moving.

Ibuki: “You have a woman with you now, Kurama. Learn to settle things through talking than using violence as a solution for everything.”

Kurama: “All right. Would like to have a blood bath or be completely mutilated?”

(This is not how you do it!)

Yoshino: “I think you need to calm down....Ibuki doesn’t seem to be in a mood to fight, right?”

Ibuki: “You’re right. After that war, I lost a lot of my magic power. Thank you, Kurama.”

Kurama: “You deserved it anyway. And you, Yoshino, why are you talking to a man who tried to slaughter you?”

(You’re right, but....)

Yoshino: “I’m curious about Ibuki too....”

Kurama: “Ha?”

Ibuki: “....Ohh.”

Then Kurama glares at Ibuki.

(Oh, I know now!)

Yoshino: “I think it’s because he’s similar to Kurama.”

Kurama: “I and him are SAME!>”

Ibuki: “How are we similar?”

(Hmmmm.....)

Yoshino: “------I think it’s the aesthetics of it, even though it looks like it’s driven by crazy logic.”

......It was just after I was captured by Ibuki and subjected to Yasuchika-san’s manipulation spell.

-------FLASHBACK------

Ibuki: “You must be in a lot of pain, but you’re strong. I like you. I can’t wait to see your face when you cry.”

Yoshino: “I….will never despair in your presence.”

Ibuki: “What?”

Yoshino: “I will prove to you the strength of humans that I believe in.”

Ibuki: “……………… Interesting. Then let’s play that game. Show me what you’re really made of.”

------FLASHBACK END-----

(Yes, when I saw Ibuki’s eyes at that moment...for some reason I felt like it resembled Kurama.)

Yoshino: “I still can’t forgive you for what you made me do. But I also think that somehow I accepted his way of life because he and Kurama came into contact with each other’s values on the very edge like that.”

(So maybe that’s why I couldn’t really hate Ibuki.)

Kurama: “..........”

Ibuki, who had been listening with his mouth agape, muttered quietly.

Ibuki: “----You’re a woman with good instincts. No wonder you won Kurama’s heart.”

(Eh?)

Yoshino: “What?”

Ibuki: “Nothing.”

Then a soft smile came across Ibuki’s lips.

Ibuki: “I shouldn’t have given you to Kurama. I should have noticed you earlier on and have played with you instead.”

(Ibuki....?)

His voice was calm and clear, with a hint of emotion.

When I was standing there confused-----

Kurama: “It’s unpleasant to see you imagine an impossible future.”

(Wow)

As if to break Ibuki’s gaze, Kurama hides me behind his back.

Ibuki: “I’m possessive too, just like you.”

Kurama: “I’ll pull out that tongue of yours if you say one more time that we’re similar.”

Ibuki: “Oh dear, why do you want to deny the similarities between us, Kurama? I’ve had so much fun raising you, don’t you know?”

Kurama: “More of the same nonsense.”

Ibuki: “I’m serious. I wouldn’t have carried around cute little boy like you for all those years.”

Ibuki giggled as he reminisced about the old days.

Ibuki: “Seeing you again at the battle that night, reminded me of our first meeting.”

(I’m sure Ibuki is a distorted person....)

(But I think he really likes Kurama.)

Kurama: “The words you speak are toxic. I will not ask you to mean it now. But your power, which I have longed to surpass, has not faded with the passing of time.”

Ibuki: “......!”

(Kurama...)

It was the first time I had ever heard Kurama say anything close to praise for Ibuki.

Ibuki: “Heh, jealous?”

-----Part 4-----

Ibuki: “Heh, jealous?”

Kurama: “Stop joking. I’m going to take the strength I’ve developed under you and go further.”

Ibuki: “-----See. You're being cute again.”

(Kurama was so disgusted by Ibuki’s habit of playing with others and the stupidity of those around him that he had to say goodbye.)

(But if he hadn’t recognized Ibuki’s strength, I think he would have given up on him much sooner.)

It was probably inevitable that their paths had diverged, but I couldn’t help thinking of a future if they hadn’t parted ways.

Ibuki: “You’re getting stronger, my son.”

Kurama(glares cutely): “Who’s your son? I’ll kill you.”

Yoshino: “No bloodshed here!!!!”

In response to Kurama’s death threat, the kitten in Ibuki’s hands woke up.

Ibuki: “Yosh Yosh. Don’t be scared.”

Kitten: “Mew.”

Ibuki: “....Oww.”

The kitten clawed Ibuki’s finger, jumps off his hand, and runs away.

Kurama: “Such an interesting little animal.”

(Is Ibuki mad.....?)

Ibuki was silent for a moment, but then-----

Ibuki: “He has a good temperament. A cat with a bright future.”

Ibuki, muttering with a straight face, looks at the kitten’s regretfully and stands up.

Ibuki: “See you, Kurama. And you too, Yoshino.....I’ll play with you sometime when I feel like it.”

Yoshino: “Eh?”

Ibuki turned and walked away, not caring that I shouted in surprise.

Kurama: “Yoshino. We’re going to go to the hot springs one more time to get rid of Ibuki out of our minds.”

Yoshino: “One more time!?”

Kurama pulled me by my waist and urged me to walk.

Kurama: “What the hell was that man even doing here?”

.....................

After part ways with Yoshino and Kurama, Ibuki went outside the inn only to see------

Ibuki: “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Yasuchika: “I want to kill you for making me wait for this long.”

Akihito: “Unforgivable, right? I wish I could have been in the hot springs.”

Ibuki: “Brats.”

Akihito looks at Ibuki, who shrugs and joins.

Akihito: “So? Did you get the point of having Yasuchika find out where Kurama and Yoshino are?”

Ibuki: “.......... It made me realize the value of what I’ve lost. Life is bittersweet.”

Yasuchika: “Wow! When Ibuki talks like a human, it makes me want to puke!”

Akihito: “Look, I have goosebumps too.”

Ibuki: “Are you just here to tease me?”

Akihito: “Actually, it’s rare to see you like this, Ibuki. It’s refreshing.”

Giggling, Akihito started walking.

Akihito: “It’s a miracle to see you having a change of heart for the first time in 1200 years. The fact that there are miracles in this world is a joy for people like us.”

Both Yasuchika and Ibuki walked along with him through the trees.

------While also hoping for a miracle like that to happen deep in their hearts.

...................

That night.....

Yoshino: “I really enjoyed our trip!!”

Kurama: “Yeah. But, there were few interruptions along the way though.”

When we returned, we huddled together in the warmth of the cushions in Kurama’s room.

Yoshino: “I was also surprised to see Ibuki. But I’m glad nothing bad happened.”

(Ibuki’s magic is yet to return and the Imperial Court is unlikely to make any major moves...so we can enjoy our peace for the time being.)

The Shogunate and The Rebels are still on a temporary truce and also keeping an eye on the Imperial Court.

Yoshino: “When the Court’s plans are revealed and resolved then....the Shogunate and the Rebels will fight again, right?”

Kurama: “The feud between Yoritomo and Yoshitsune is deep. It is not easy for a human to forget his hatred. When the time comes to fight again----you’ll be sad, right?”

Yoshino: “Mm.”

When I imagined it, my heart hurts like it’s being torn apart.

Yoshino: “I’m sure I’ll suffer a great deal.....but I’ll never leave Kurama.”

(Because I didn’t choose to live with Kurama half-heartedly.)

Kurama: “I see.”

-------Part 5------

Kurama: “I see. Your suffering is yours and yours alone. No matter what I do, I will never be able to take that away from you.”

Kurama murmured with a deep voice.

Kurama: “But I promise, as a man who loves you, I will give you peace of mind until you stop crying.”

(Kurama.....)

Again and again, I am overwhelmed and swallowed up by the magnitude of his feelings.

Yoshino: “Mm....thank you.”

(Kurama always keeps his promise.)

(I know that....so I’m not scared anymore.)

Kurama: “You have beautiful eyes. I remember being irresistibly drawn to those eyes even before you and I got together.”

(Ah.....)

Kurama gently pushes me down and his face comes closer.

Kurama: “It’s that look that shines so strangely in the dark of night.”

Those words bring back memories.....

-------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: “—-What do you even know about me? I gave you the right to speak and now you’re getting on my head.”

Yoshino: “…..I certainly don’t know anything about Kurama. But still, the weak observe the strong.”

Kurama: “……………..”

Yoshino: “At least it’s faster for me to get to know Kurama…. than for Kurama, who has no interest in humans, to get to know me.”

Kurama: “—–Those eyes.”

Yoshino: “hmm?”

Kurama: “I don’t like your eyes. I hate the way how it’s shining so strangely in the dark night.”

------FLASHBACK ENDS-------

(It was the night when Ibuki kidnapped me and gave me to Kurama.)

Yoshino: “I know a lot more about Kurama now than I did back then.”

Kurama(blushing): “It’s still not enough. After wanting all of you, I’m still want more and more....I’d rather force myself to conquer all of you than hiding you from the rest of the world.”

(.....Mm.)

Kurama(blushing): “And the brilliance of your eyes.”

His red eyes approach with an insatiable heat.

Along with that, Kurama’s palm covers my eyes.

Yoshino: “Mmm.....”

In the darkness, I feel my lips being robbed.

A sweet sigh leaks from my mouth and his tongue invites itself in.

Yoshino: “Haa....ahh...Ku...ra...maa....”

(Mm...no more...)

I was even more sensitive now that my eyes are covered and I was easily overwhelmed by Kurama.

When my head was in a haze, he removes his hand.....

(.....Beautiful.)

I see Kurama looking down at me defenselessly.

Kurama: “Yoshino.”

His deep voice calls my name and softly bites my neck.

Yoshino: “Nnn....Ku...rama...”

Kurama: “Why are you keeping your voice down....? I like the way you resist, but you don’t have to fight greed, do you?”

Yoshino: “Nm...because...”

(Because it’s so embarrassing that I’m the only one drowning so much.)

Kurama: “I’m the only one who has the privilege to hear your sweet voice.....leave yourself to pleasure and accept my heart with your body.”

I can’t resist anymore. Everywhere he touches, just melts.

Yoshino: “Ahh....Ku...ra..ma....Mm...too....”

I put my arms around his neck and beg for him.

Kurama: “Finally gave up resisting?”

Yoshino(blushing): “How can I not...when you’re being so romantic...”

Kurama: “....Cheeky woman.”

(We will deepen our love as often as we can. In our own way...and fast.)

Kurama whispered to me and held me down, forcing his body in mine more roughly than usual....

On that night, I received the love of a lone demon who never belonged to anyone.....

fin.

Main Story Masterlist

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen mc #ikemen genjiden kurama #main story translations #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome

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psychewithwings · 3 years

Text

Bitter Taste: Iwaizumi x f/reader Pt. 1

pt. 2 here

THIS IS SO LATE and I’m a fuck up hahahaha (kinda ironic this was 2 weeks late for Mental Health Awareness month)

I am crediting my girl @kuso-deku for giving me Iwaizumi brain rot to begin with. I am also crediting @gixxie and @idonotagreebitch for helping me talk through my ideas... and crediting @doinmybesthere for the wonderful idea of a mental health awareness collaboration the link is here. PLS READ THE REST OF THE WORKS. Everyone deserves the love.

TW: manipulative male/female relationships, gaslighting?, subtle shit head crap that most men do (don’t worry Iwa is a peach as always tho, it’s Ushijima that’s the problem)

Iwaizumi stands and stretches in the cinema. The movie had been good, but long, he figured it was a little after midnight. “What’d ya think?” Kuroo asks as they exit the theatre. “I hated the ending…” Oikawa gripes, “I hate endings where everyone just dies.” “You are such a princess Tooru, I swear, it’s a metaphorical ending… did you not catch all the symbolism in the opening credits?” Iwaizumi sighs and turns his phone back on, trying his best to ignore their bickering. Slowly, notification after notification pops up… all from you. He blinks, surprised. You had declined his offer to join him for the film, stating you had previous plans attending a close friend’s birthday.

Iwa opens the messages from you. He sees first the selfies. You look beautiful, extravagant even. Your dress is beautiful, it compliments your figure perfectly with the corseted bodice. It’s white and so is your lace mask. Broad, feathered angel wings rest on your back. Angelic would have been a word he’d used to describe you before, but now, it was confirmed. He wants to keep staring at the photos but Kuroo and Oikawa are starting to become too curious about the contents of his phone. He scrolls and relaxes his face to look more casual. But it’s hard when your intoxicated messages are so darn cute.

hope the movie is good!

okay so I guess there’s an open bar? Is it my birthday too?

if you wanna come by after the movie I’msure you coul

this partyyyy suckssssssss assssssssss

wish id gon wiht u xx

You are clearly drunk and he laughs to himself before Kuroo peers over his right shoulder. “Well she’s thinking about you at least,” he smirks. Oikawa peers over Iwaizumi’s left shoulder, “ooo play the voice message.” Oikawa taps the message before Iwaizumi can give him an answer.

“Hiiiii Iwaaaaaa, hope you like the moovie and you’re having a good time, cuz I’m having a preetyy good time, they gots free margaritaaass. Okay byeeeee”

The guys laugh and Oikawa presses the next one.

“Hey Iwaaa, I made up a song about you, ready?

Iwaizumi

Doesn’t know what he does- to me…

Sshfhsijknfhahaha I cant remember the rest som’n bout… som’n I dunno. Byeee”

“Okay, Ushi says that I need to say sorry for sending so many…” you pause and then whisper, “drunk messages, but I’as only tellin’ ya I ssink ‘r awesome ‘n you should totally come to this party and hang out with me… you’re awesome, okay byeee”

Oikawa and Kuroo pause and look at Iwaizumi. “Ushi?” Oikawa asks, “like Ushiwaka?” Oikawa’s eyes are narrowed and he gags dramatically in disgust. Iwaizumi nods and walks to exit the theatre. “Wait… that’s her friend who’s having the birthday party?” Iwa grimaces as Kuroo chuckles. “No wonder you’ve had a stick up your ass all night.” Iwa glares at him, “they’re just friends… apparently… I don’t know, she said they’ve known each other for a really long time…” Kuroo claps Iwaizumi on the back. “I think you should definitely go to the party.” Iwaizumi starts to object but the ring of his phone draws attention, and he answers it. “Heyyy you're outta th’moviee, heheeheheha,” you slur. Iwaizumi laughs softly and smiles, “yeah, I’m out of the movie now, are you… good?” There is so much background noise, it almost drowns out your sweet sleepy voice. “I’m soooo good… … I just-” he can hear your voice drop to a drunken whisper. “I’z just hoping to see you today,” you mumble finally.

Iwaizumi can feel his heartbeat quicken, his head reeling. “Oh really?” He plays cool but then instantly regrets it when you give him a serious answer. “Yeah, I was really hoping you’d come to the party, even for just a little,” you murmur. Iwaizumi can’t help but chuckle. You were pretty cute like this, not normally so transparent. You were actually quite hard to read, so sweet but guarded and teasing too. You were a friend of Oikawa’s first and he had met you through him. He’d liked the way you sat cross legged on the couch smiling, chin in your hands while you asked questions and listened to his answers. Your eyes sparkle when you hear something you like, and your face lights up when you talk about things you find interesting.

“Ya don’t have to, I can just see ya another time,” you add. He’s been silent too long which causes him to speak without thinking. “No, I’d love to see you, I’ll head to you now.” Kuroo and Oikawa are silently cheering him on and Iwa turns away in embarrassment. “Really? Okay! I’ll drop my pin… as the kids are sayin’ these days hahaha.” “See you soon, drink some water okay?” “Mhm, I will, see ya soon!”

You were at a club owned by Ushijima’s family. A place called ‘Eagle’s Nest’. He’d only known you for a few weeks but he couldn’t help his infatuation. It was immediate, the night he had gone to Oikawas for game night. You spoke to him so easily not knowing him at all and laughed at his little side jabs to his long time friend. The way you looked at him… Iwa knew then that he wanted to see you smile, hear your laugh, and that he would be happy to assume the responsibility of making that happen.

He was surprised when you had declined his offer for the movie, feeling that you both had some definite chemistry, but Iwaizumi was even more surprised when you had said that you had prior plans with his old time rival Ushijima Wakatoshi. Iwaizumi hadn’t seen him since high school but they knew a few people in common, Oikawa being one of those people. Oikawa could sure hold a grudge but Iwaizumi took all of his comments with a grain of salt. Ushijima often came off entitled and cold, which would leave Iwaizumi with a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe Oikawa had the right idea holding a grudge… But grudge or not he wanted to see you, hear your voice and admire you all dolled up.

When Iwaizumi arrives at the club he is met with a large security guard. “Invitation?” he grumbles. Iwa remains calm but a small trickle of fear runs down his back. Iwaizumi gives the guard a casual smile before he starts to answer but he is interrupted. “Iwaaaaa,” you cry from the top of the stairs. The mask you’d had on is now resting on top of your head, the delicate features of your face now exposed. The floofy skirt of your dress bounces with your excitement as you run down the stairs. You crash into him, throwing your arms around his neck. You bury your face in his collar and still momentarily. Drunk and bubbly, you melt when Iwa wraps his arms around your waist in return, avoiding your costume’s wings. “Mmmm,” you hum, breath hot against his skin, “you smell good.” You pull back and stare into his wide eyes. “You look incredible,” he offers, a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You grin in return and simply take hold of his hand. “He’s with me,” you beam at the guard. Iwaizumi is doubtful this trick will work here. But he is surprised when the guard steps aside saying, “as you wish Miss L/N.” You giggle and pull Iwa towards the doors. “I’ll bring you some cake later, okay Jurou?” Jurou laughs, “just have fun darlin’.” “You’re the best,” you call behind you as you push open the doors. Iwaizumi can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy knowing that you are on a first name basis with one of the body guards at the Wakatoshi’s club. How close were you with Ushijima?

Blue and purple lights illuminate the vast space while black tiles make up the main floor. The dance floor is sunken, in the middle of the club with a small set of stairs leading down to it. It’s made entirely of glass, beneath is a saltwater garden of different plants and coral.

“You’ll need one of these,” you explain, swiping a simple black mask from the welcome table. You hand it over to him and pull yours down over your eyes. Iwaizumi adjusts it to where he can see. “You look so handsome,” you admire. He grins, “what about you? You’ve got wings!” You laugh and adjust your mask back on top of your forehead. “I’m a swan, and Ushi said I couldn’t be a swan without wings!” You spin for him, trying your best to flap the feathered wings. Small pieces of confetti glitter rain from the skirt of your dress. Iwaizumi takes in your face illuminated by the lights of the club. Blue and pink dancing over your cheeks as you smile up at him. “What?” you giggle nervously. Just a few weeks but he is mesmerised by your everything. He shakes his head and tries to move on. He wanted to tell you how he felt but this wasn’t the right time. It should be when you’re sober, when you can take in his words properly.

You coax him down towards the bar. “You’re sure it’s okay to sneak in uninvited guests?” Iwa questions. “Well, I asked Ushi ‘nd he said it was okay, so yeah!” You grin but notice Iwaizumi’s reserve. “It’s really okay, I promise, let’s just get a drink,” you suggest and take his hand. “Only if you drink more water,” he smirks. You roll your eyes at Iwa, “I drank some water before you got here actually.” You look back at him as you both head down to the bar. “I’ll prolly regret that yurr seeing me like this tamorow, ya know,” you call over the blaring music. “It’s cute, you’re cute,” he assures as he leans against the bar, “I didn’t know you thought about me this much until I saw all the snapchats and voice messages and texts.” You cover your face in humiliation, “I knowww, I’m sorry but you were on my mind a lot, alot alot, and couldn’t stop think about ya, and the booze told me to keep on messaging…” You trail off, finding the last shred of your filter to keep you from talking. The bartender hands you your water and you take a long drink.

“Iwaizumi,” a voice projects over the baseline. Ushijima stands tall advancing towards where you both stand. His expression is neutral though, his eyes keep darting to you and then back to Iwaizumi. Ushijima is dressed as a knight, his silver mask hangs languidly around his neck. “Ushiwaka,” Iwa acknowledges, “this is a hell of a birthday party.” You giggle and point at Ushiwaka, “he’s 28 today; getting sooo old.” In that moment, Iwaizumi watches him do something he had never seen him do before. Smile… and then laugh. Ushijima wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. “You’re just a baby, you’re only-” You wave your hand in front of Ushiwaka’s face, shushing him. “No, no, Iwa doesn’t knowww, don’t tell him,” you plead. “She’s only 23,” Ushiwaka says. You hold your face in your hands once more and groan. Ushijima pulls your hands from your face, “just barely twenty three too.” You glare at him and look back at Iwaizumi embarrassed. “Did she not tell you her age?” Ushijima asks Iwaizumi. Iwa shrugs, “She didn’t, but I never asked,” Iwa shrugs casually, addressing you now, “didn’t seem important since you carry yourself so well.”

You turn to Iwa, mouth open like you’re about to respond but Ushijima swipes the glass from your hands before you can finish. “Drinking water?” You look up at him. “But it’s my birthday… and this is a party… you need something stronger…” Ushijima beacons the bartender with a single flick of his hand. The barman pours three double shots of a clear liquid from a foreign looking bottle. Ushijima takes a glass and hands it to you, before handing another to Iwaizumi. Ushijima gives him a wink as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He raises his glass, the violet lights illuminating the liquid. Iwaizumi follows his lead. “To my Juliet, the belle of the ball,” Ushijima bellows. You smile slightly and shake your head. “No no, to you Ushi, it’s your birthday, not mine, we are celebrating you!” Your eyes find Iwa’s, but you leave your glass raised. Ushijima grabs hold of your hand that’s still wrapped around the glass. “Cheers,” He tips the glass towards your lips and you swallow the clear liquor as he feeds it to you. You down it all in one go and Ushiwaka smiles wide once again. “She’s good, huh?” With that, Ushiwaka clinks his glass to Iwaizumi’s, “to you brother,” he assures. Iwa is surprised with the sudden sentiment. “And to you,” he replies before downing the shot. The liquor is surprisingly smooth, expensive, and strong. Iwa can feel his head starting to get light from the small portion that was in the glass and Iwa wasn’t a light weight. “Strong huh?” Ushijima smirks. Iwaizumi nods then turns to the bartender to signal for a water.

Ushijima turns to where you stand swaying slightly with the music. “Look at her, she gets drunk so easily,” Ushijima smiles. “How are you feeling, princess?” he shouts over at you. Iwa turns away and downs his water in disgust. ‘Princess?’ Ushijima shouldn’t be calling you that if you’re both just friends. You blink and give him a smile and a thumbs up. There was a natural innocence about you, a childlike wonder and curiosity, the embodiment of sanguine. Ushijima’s air was sometimes sinister, like he was taking advantage of your natural trusting nature. Iwa watches as Ushijima’s large hands rest on either of your shoulders and he pushes you back and forth like a pendulum between his palms. You giggle and try to push him away, “Ushi stooopp.” He laughs with you and continues pushing you around, “you’re so cute and small though, see?” He places a hand on top of your head and you still. “I said to stop,” you mumble. “And I did,” he retorts before letting you go.

Iwa watches the sudden weight of gravity find you as you stumble in your heels. He catches your arm just in time. Your arms find their way around his neck once more, your face in the crook of his neck. You pull away and Iwa examines your foggy eyes. “You okay?” You nod, pushing off of Iwa’s chest. You fix your hair, “it’s fine, he just messin’” you turn to Ushijima, “and someone doesn’t know when to quit.” You’re pulled away into Ushiwaka’s arms. He sways you back and forth, your back held against his chest while he says soft apologies. He whispers something to you and you nod. Iwaizumi wanted to pull you away from him. Not because he was jealous, but because the way that Ushiwaka was behaving with you was odd.

“Y/n is a little bit tired, why don’t you join us in VIP?” Iwa smiles and gives his thanks, trying his best to hide his scowl. Iwa follows after you and Ushiwaka, upstairs and under velvet ropes hoping that he will find a good moment to pull you away. But instead you are pulled onto the couch beside Ushiwaka. He lights a cigar and offers one to Iwa, but Iwaizumi declines with a simple, “no thanks, don’t smoke.” It’s strange the way that Ushiwaka keeps whispering in your ear, giving you sips of his drinks, and blowing smoke in your face. “Ushi, stop please, the smell is making me sick,” you whine. But he just pulls you closer to him, chuckling all the while and does it again. You’re laughing and poking his face, but it’s not out of joy... Watching Ushijima interact with you the whole night has been like watching a cat toy with a mouse.

Iwa grimaces when Ushiwaka tickles you. “Stop-stop-don’t-stop,” you giggle and howl. “She said to stop!” Iwa raises his voice. Ushijima’s eyes shoot towards Iwaizumi while you squirm off the couch. Your eyes are heavy as you walk towards a dark hallway and disappear into the shadows. Iwa’s eyes flick to the entrance to the hall. Ushiwaka sits in a contented silence, sipping a drink, “she’s so dramatic,” he sighs. He continues smoking, arm rested over the back of the purple velvet sofa. Ushijima takes a sip of his drink, swirling the ice in his glass. Iwa doesn’t move to break the silence no matter how expectant Ushijima’s expression was. He stamps out his cigar in the tray before addressing him.

“She’s awfully talkative, and incredibly fond of you…” Ushijima starts, an odd smirk painting his expression. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow in intrigue and Ushijima’s face hardens. “She won’t shut up about you since she met you… it’s annoying...” Iwaizumi, remains quiet, the silence settling over the men like a thick fog. The only sounds are muffled club music and the ice tinkling against Ushijima’s glass. “I’m going to be honest as a friend… bad idea.” Iwaizumi can feel the rage bubbling inside his gut, “I don’t think that what’s going on between us is any of your-” He’s cut off by Ushijima.

“I’m really looking out for you Iwaizumi, girls can break hearts and Y/n is kind of known for that… she’s just a sweet soul, makes friends easily, but love? That’s harder for her… doesn’t have the best taste in men I’m afraid, I want to protect her and you from a situation where I can already see the conclusion… I get that you like her, everyone does.” Iwazumi leans forward, “does that include you?” Ushijima is stone faced, then gives a cold laugh. “You’re funnier than I remember, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi rises and heads towards the hall you disappeared down. If he sat in front of him any longer he was going to say something he regretted… and you still haven’t come back. He slips into the dark hallway as you’re exiting the bathroom. Your mask has been removed and even in the dim lighting you look pale. “Hey, what’s happened?” You look up at him embarrassed, your dress almost as wilted as you are. “Got sick…” you mutter. You’re shaking slightly, arms wrapped around yourself. “Oh Y/n, are you alright?” he sighs. His arm starts to reach for you but he thinks better of it, pulling it back to rest by his side. His eyes widen as he feels the warmth of your hand in his. He didn’t figure that you would want to be touched right now. But your fingers interlace with his, your skin soft. “Are you good to drive?” you whisper. His hand instinctively tightens around yours protectively. “I only had whatever Ushijima gave us, it was strong but I’ve had water- yeah I’m good.” “Would you mind taking me home?” you ask, as you start to walk back towards the VIP room. “Sure, course,” Iwaizumi replies gently. He feels how your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in silent gratitude. The gesture has his heart beating hard against his ribs. Iwa walks forward, his eyes on you and nothing else. Your brow is furrowed and your expression painted serious which was unusual from how he knew you to act.

“Iwa’s taking me home now,” you announce and walk towards the stairs. Ushiwaka’s face hardens, “I can take her home, you shouldn’t trouble yourself,” he addresses Iwaizumi. You smile and turn around facing Ushiwaka. “But Ushi, ‘s ur birthday, you can’t leave this party jus’ ‘a take me home,” You turn to Iwa now. “Let’s go,” you say and Iwa nods, still holding your hand. “Where’s my hug, princess?” Ushijima calls after you. You stop in your tracks and close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. You drop Iwa’s hand slowly, hesitantly. You walk back slowly and stand before his open arms. He lifts you and you groan. You’re still hugging him tightly but not quite with the same intimacy as before.

As Ushijima places you down you turn to look back at Iwa when Ushijima catches your face with his large hand. He coaxes your face back towards him then leans down. Ushiwaka locks eyes with Iwaizumi as he whispers something in your ear. Then he presses his lips to your cheek, still not moving his eyes away from Iwaizumi’s. Iwa tries his best to remain neutral but he can feel his lip creeping upwards in contempt. Ushiwaka is too prideful for his own good it seems.

You take Iwa’s hand again, leading him towards the exit. An exasperated look rests on your face. “What did he say to you?” Iwa asks. You sigh and shake your head. “‘S nothin’, ya shouldn’t worry your pretty lil head ‘bout it.” Iwa can’t help but allow a smile. He raises an eyebrow at you, “think my head is pretty?” he asks. He’s met with your hazy gaze, “I do,” you say simply. Iwa wasn’t prepared for such a straightforward answer to his question.

Once out of the club, the valet pull Iwaizumi’s car around. He’s careful not to let you walk too far on your own. Sick, in those ridiculous shoes and still quite drunk, he opens the car door for you before hopping into the driver's seat. “Will you put your address in?” Iwa hands you his phone and you type it in as asked. “Thanks for doing this,” you sigh. “Yeah of course,” he says as he puts the car into gear. A few streets of city light pass by in silence. Your hands are resting in your lap but your body is still trembling. “I can- umm- pull over if you need me to…” You wave the thought away with your hand, “it was the smell of the cigar more than anything…” Iwa’s gut begins to boil again. Your voice is soft, almost defeated. He speaks before thinking better of it. “Does he always treat you like that?” You look at Iwa and make eye contact briefly before his attention is back on the road. “He was being a little extra weird today, maybe because y’all used to play volleyball together or… I dunno really, he just gets like that sometimes…” You trail off, allowing your thoughts to fade into the rearview. The silence is deafening and you feel the need to break it. “He’s really nice too though, don’t get me wrong, he cooks for me and calls to check in, he even gets me little gifts, so I know he cares.” Iwa shakes his head, “if he cared he would have stopped when you asked him to.” You take a breath, “I know but he was just having a night I guess…” Iwa pulls into your driveway as the GPS notifies him that he has ‘arrived at the destination’. He puts the car in park, “you don’t have to make excuses for him… it’s okay to be angry, if that’s how you feel.” You start to open the door, your fingers on the handle. “I’m not angry though, I’m just kinda hurt.” You open the door and start to get out, “okay, maybe a little angry too.” You laugh to yourself but not out of joy. It’s an ironic laugh and Iwa can hear the pain ringing inside of it. “Let me walk you inside.”

#iwaizumi #iwa #hajime #hajime x reader #iwa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #pls protect me iwa

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

Meet Me in the Silence

Elriel Month - Day 5

Continuation of ‘Forbidden’

Honestly, tooth-rotting fluff, some Nyx, stabbing Cassian with fork, Azriel singing and relationship stuff

Azriel loved Nyx. He didn’t love him because Nyx was cute and pudgy, or because he was his nephew, or because he was a fun, if demanding baby, and not even because spending time with him was a private relief for Azriel. A time to let go, a time where he could spend rolling around on the carpet, helping Nyx with blocks, rattles and the construction of pillow forts, watching Nyx sneeze little whiffs of starry night.

Nyx, unbenounced to him, showed Azriel some truths that Azriel couldn’t face before. The thing with Nyx was that he was a baby and he didn’t care—he didn’t care about Azriel’s scars and his ugly hands, he didn’t care about Azriel’s cruel ways, or the services that he provided to the High Lord. Nyx didn’t care about how many people fell under Truth-Teller’s deadly edge, or what Azriel had to do on the battlefields or during the Blood Rite. Nyx didn’t judge. As an infant, he wanted the same thing from Azriel as he wanted from everyone—warmth and comfort, kindness and love. He wanted to be rocked to sleep, fed, changed and played with. He didn’t care that the bottle was held by the same hand that tortured the Night Court’s enemies, or that the man who held him to his chest did some unforgivable things in his life.

As the last nine months rolled by, Azriel had to do some re-evaluations of his life. He had time on his hand, to be sure. Instead of courting Elain, like he wanted to, he thought. There was nothing much else left for him to do.

He thought that perhaps, despite his internal denials, Elain was much like Nyx—she accepted Azriel for what he was. Scars and all. Her acceptance did not stem from naiveite, though, but love. The realization hit Azriel like a sledgehammer. He crawled towards it, slowly, but surely, rethinking every touch and every smile, recalling every smirk and sparkle of the caramel-brown eyes, all the jokes and jabs, and gentle touches and finger brushes. Recalled the worry on Elain’s face when she knew that he went on his missions—even if they weren’t particularly dangerous. The pain that was etched on her features, when he returned in a particularly foul mood, and she knew that it was because he did things that marred his soul. He remembered her casually handing him a whiskey, which he’d gulped down in one go. Or a cup of tea, with honey and lemon, just like he liked. The gooey caramel cakes that she made—they were his favourite—and they began making a frequent appearance on the dessert menu. The past nine months of their forbidden love—is that what it was?—were the time when Azriel finally felt loved. For the first time in his life. Mor never really loved him, not like he needed to be loved. His brothers—well, they were his brothers, so that was that. Elain loved him. Of that, he was now certain. Elain loved him without touching. Without kissing. Without romance. Without courtship. Without gifts or presents or flowers. Without promises. Without expectations. It’s like she couldn’t help herself, even if she tried. She needed to love him, as much as he needed to be loved by her. All her tiny gestures of comfort and care created a glittering mosaic of love and devotion, which he only now began to piece together. And it pained him that she was not free to express herself as she wanted to, because loving him came with a hefty, unreasonable price.

For her, he’d fight. For her, he’d be the person she deserved. When she began choosing him, it was the first time in his life when someone actively chose him, despite all his shortcoming. And he wanted her to continue choosing him, every day, making the decision to love him.

Azriel had a lot of time to think about it, in silence.

Azriel was a good cook. One of his may hidden talents. He spent much of his time alone, or in places that were foreign and unfamiliar, or in the army, and necessity being the mother of invention, he had to learn how to cook. And then, he became quite good at it. He had to draw the line at baking, but he could make a steak like nobody’s business, and eggs every way were his specialty. Tonight though, he was tired and distracted. It was the first time in a very, very long time when he and Elain were alone, so he didn’t particularly want to waste it on cooking. What’s more, with Nyx being the raging little monster that he was today, Azriel wanted to put the kid to bed as soon as possible and just relax. For a meticulous planner, tonight, he had no plans at all…and it both excited and frightened him, because it would just be the two of them and they’ll have to figure it out.

“Breakfast for dinner?” he offered, while Elain set Nyx’s food in front of him. He was too quick for her and immediately jammed his whole fist into the vegetable mash, soliciting a groan from her, as he began licking his palm and fingers with gusto.

“Whatever you want to make,” she agreed, as she began wiping the mess that Nyx made, while Azriel smirked, shaking his head. He tossed two slices of ham in the skillet, and allowed it to crisp up and caramelize.

He came behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, burying his face in her hair. She smiled, momentarily lost in the sensation of closeness and comfort that he always offered her, so effortlessly too.

“You know,” warned Azriel, using his ‘stern’ voice, looking at Nyx, “for your behavior, you should be sent to an Illyrian training camp. Just so you know what’s what. There, there won’t be 10 people looking for Brute for you, or uncle Cassian swimming with you in the pool, or Elain feeding you lemon cakes, or aunt Nesta reading to you the same book over, and over, and over, and over again. No aunt Mor taking you on a pony, and no Varian building sandcastles with you, only to watch you destroy them.”

Elain, tucked against his chest, was laughing. Especially because Nyx was glaring at Aziel unhappily and suspiciously.

Then, she said, softly, almost to herself, “I am happy that he is happy. That we can give him the childhood that none of us had. Let him be a little bit spoilt, because he is so loved.”

There was longing in her tone. Longing for something that she probably desired for herself. Those conversations have never been had between the two of them. Gods, they’ve never even been together in public, let alone had conversations about the future, and a future that included children. It was never something Azriel even thought of, considering his ‘luck’ in love, and his line of work. But he heard her. So he gave her a little kiss on the cheek and returned to his cooking.

Elain was feeding Nyx the last of his food, when Azriel placed two plates on the table, and poured both of them a glass of ale.

“Beer with breakfast,” she giggled. “I like the way you think, shadowsinger.”

He laughed, loving how easy it all was. How easy the banter came, how relaxed they were together, how there were no pressures at all when it was just the two of them. Well, three.

“Alright, you’ve taken enough of everybody’s time today,” he decided, as he fished Nyx out of the highchair and went to wash his face and hands again. Elain remained seated, watching the two of them, with her chin propped on her hand.

Was it normal to be that enamoured with a man? When he did mundane things? She had to admit—Azriel was indescribably beautiful. That alone would attract anyone. The gargantuan wings, ticked tightly, but not tensely against his back didn’t hurt either. The span of his enormous shoulders, the movement of those thick muscles around the arms, over his back, which moved and bulged as he wrestled with Nyx, who was refusing to get his hands washed, were mesmerizing. She knew that she shouldn’t be so dazzled by his looks, but she couldn’t help herself. But it was more than just admiring the elegant cut of his body, the well-fitted trousers that did very nice things to his thighs and his long legs, or the enticing forearms that were exposed from his haphazardly rolled up sleeves. The tattoos, in fact, snaked lower than she anticipated. She’d never seen him undressed—Cassian, strong, beefy and powerful, and the leaner, thinner Rhysand—plenty of times. But not Azriel. He’s been annoyingly timid. All three were tattooed, but apparently, Azriel’s reached all the way to his scars. She smiled to herself, amazed and bemused. Who would’ve thought that she, Elain, would be so attracted to a winged and tattooed male? What a far cry from the ordinary, plain Greyson.

Azriel plopped Nyx down on the floor, tossed him Brute and some toys and then quickly threw a shield around them, so Nyx was contained and didn’t attempt to wander from the kitchen.

“You should’ve started,” he nodded to her untouched plate, as he sat down.

“Not without you,” she said. “Looks very good!”

“I try,” he said bashfully and they tucked into to the scrambled eggs, ham and vegetables.

“Oh, gods, it’s really good,” she almost moaned.

“Baby, it’s just eggs,” he reminded her, secretly very pleased with her reaction.

“Well, baby likes them!” she giggled, cutting into the ham. Azriel watched her, watched the movement of her hands and she asked, “What?”

He chuckled and said, sipping his ale,

“I recall when you were planning to kill Cassian with a fork.”

Her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Oh, you don’t remember?” he was laughing softly.

“I don’t think it’s even possible to kill Cassian,” she noted.

“I’d agree. But you were ready and eager.”

“When was I planning to kill Cassian?” she demanded.

“First time we met—at dinner. I remember Nesta…well, being Nesta. And Cassian—Mother save me, the moment he had her eyes on her, he was just dripping with this hideous arousal,”

Elain almost choked, eyes wide.

“What?”

“It was horrible,” he gave an exaggerated shudder. “Rhys and I were traumatized. Those two were going at it, as usual, fighting, sniping…whatever they do, and all we could smell was him getting hotter and hotter. That dinner,” he shook his head at the memory. “It was something else.”

She was laughing, nodding.

“And you?” she asked, at last.

He gave her a long thoughtful look. A tender, loving look that made her throat bob, and suddenly she was hot…much like Cassian.

“Honestly?” he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off her.

“Yes.”

“I thought that I saw the most human and the most beautiful girl in the world. Utterly unattainable. Engaged to another man. But surprisingly unafraid of us,”

“I was very afraid of you!” she argued. Azriel smiled.

“You three were huge!” she cried. “With these enormous wings,”

He raised his brow suggestively and she smacked his arm,

“Oh, shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything,” he shrugged, “but please, tell me more about our huge wings, and our generally superior size,”

“I am not telling you anything,” she snapped, her cheeks red, and he was delighted.

“But you do admit that you tried to kill Cassian?”

“I didn’t try to kill him. Just defend myself, if there was need,”

“Pretty sure Nesta would’ve unmanned him with her bare hands,”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

“And me?” he pressed, “you didn’t want to stab me with a fork?”

She gave him a cool look of nonchalance and recalled,

“You suddenly turned into a poet!”

“Did I?” it was his turn to be confused.

“Something about hearing the wind song, or something,”

“I don’t even remember that,” he confessed, a slow blush spreading over his cheeks.

“I do. I guess we remember different things about that evening.” She glanced at him from under her lashes and added, “I just remember thinking that you were the most handsome man—male—I’d ever seen. I didn’t even think that people could be that beautiful,”

Azriel’s blush deepened and Elain secretly enjoyed watching him squirm a little. She was well aware of the fact that he was always uncomfortable when people mentioned his appearance. He knew that he was handsome, almost unnaturally so, but whatever horrible words and deeds he’d experienced in his childhood warped his perception of himself. At times, she wanted to assure him that no one paid much attention to his hands…she certainly didn’t. She always found his hands, the scars on them just as attractive as the rest of him. They were simply a part of him, just as his beauty was. But he struggled. She knew it.

And as she always did, when she wanted to reassure him, she took his hand and brought it to her lips. He stilled. She kissed. Kissed the inside and outside of his palm. Watched him. Watched him tense, but not pull away his hand. Kissed each long, strong finger. Kissed the rough skin. Kissed the pain and the doubt. Not away, but at least temporarily.

Bored and tired, Nyx fell asleep on the floor, sprawled on the rug, clutching Brute.

“We have to take him upstairs,” muttered Elain, releasing Azriel’s hand.

She didn’t know how to deal with the intimacy of their relationship. Her feelings were raw and exposed, and she was painfully aware of her own inexperience. She didn’t know how to be seductive. Had no idea how to play games—wasn’t really looking to learn either. But she wasn’t dazzling or mysterious, and had no inkling of what Azriel expected, of what he wanted. He was so unbearably difficult to read, while she was stupidly, obviously in love with him. She was the Cassian to his Nesta. She was the one dripping with arousal, unable to stifle her need, or dampen her desire. He probably saw her as the fool that she was.

Frustrated, she made to get up from the table, but he caught her wrist and clasped it gently, as always reigning in his terrifying strength.

“Come here,” he murmured and pulled her to him, until she settled on his lap, feeling both awkward and happy. “Lainey,”

“I like baby,” she blurted.

He nodded, and said, “Baby, you don’t need to pretend with me…I…” he swallowed, thinking how to continue. “You might be surprised, but it’s new for me as well. I’ve had,” ugh, he really didn’t want to discuss his past lovers with her, not right now. “I am not inexperienced,” he said diplomatically. No, he wasn’t. “But this,” and he waved his hand between them, “this is new for me as well. I’ve never felt this much…for anyone. Ever,”

“What becomes of us, Az?” she asked softly.

“Whatever you want,” he stated simply.

“But,”

He shrugged, “there will always be obstacles,”

“Rhysand is more than just an ‘obstacle,’” she reminded him.

“Rhysand, frankly, can go and fuck himself,” Azriel said flatly.

The new, Fae Elain wasn’t scandalized by the coarse language. The three brothers, Nesta and Mor cursed like sailors, and Elain found herself throwing an occasional ‘shit’ and ‘dick’ in her speech. So it made her smile when the usually controlled, polite Azriel unleashed his mouth.

“He is your High Lord,” she reminded him.

“He is technically everyone’s High Lord, but it doesn’t mean that he gets free reign on doing whatever he wants. If I am not asking him to give up Feyre—remember how he snuck her out from Tamlin’s clutches—then he doesn’t get to tell us what we ought to do.”

The thing that he’s been carrying in his pocket was burning through him, a constant reminder. He shifted and then looked straight at her and tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. For someone who didn’t crave or enjoy touch, the desire to touch her was constant. He didn’t even need anything sexual at this point, but feeling her skin against him, in whatever way, was beyond satisfying.

“Did you promise him anything?” she inquired, moving even closer to him, loving the heavy warmth of his arms around her.

“Absolutely not!” he spat. “He is completely overstepping, and I’ve been humouring him up until now, but it seems to be that he is a little too comfortable with the status quo,” he looked at her, his voice grave, “I hope you didn’t promise him anything either?”

She shook her head,

“No. I didn’t say anything.”

A whoosh of breath escaped him. “Thank the Cauldron.”

Elain stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers and said, sharply this time, “Everything’s been taken away from me once already. I wasn’t prepared to give you up. You are the only thing that I want, and Rhysand wasn’t going to take that away from me. From us…” she glanced at him, “if you feel the same…”

“Do you need to ask?”

She smiled.

Azriel exhaled deeply and then cupped her face between his hands. He was going to do it. He needed to do it. She devoured his gaze, the look of intent in his forest-green golden eyes, the determined set of his jaw. He left her, once, waiting…Waiting for him to take the next step, waiting for him to act and he didn’t. Not today.

“Elain,” he swallowed audibly, and she felt that he was nervous. “Will you permit me to court you?”

Azriel wanted to do this properly. Elain deserved it—deserved to be treated with kindness and respect, but he deserved it as well—he wanted to do what so many others took for granted. It never came naturally to him, the normal things, and for once, despite everything, he was going to make this one thing happen.

Nyx moved on the floor, woke up and let out a scream. Confused, he looked around and began babbling tearfully ‘ma, ma, ma’.

Elain slipped off his lap and gently cooed “Shhhh, come…come, my sweet boy,” and picked him up. Azriel watched them, not even upset at the interruption.

Nyx was crying in earnest now, and not even Brute was enough to console him.

“I am going to try to put him to bed,” she whispered, rocking the baby against her chest.

Azriel opened his arms and said, “hand him over.”

“But,”

He carefully took Nyx from her and the move did not result in silence or calm, and Nyx cried just as sadly, looking for his mom. As Azriel made his way down the hall and towards the stairway, with Elain trailing him, he began to sing. In a language that Elain did not know, but understood innately to be Illyrian. The way the sounds rolled off Azriel’s tongue was natural, the melody lulling and sweet. His voice was soothing and pleasant, with a gravelly note that came from the back of his throat. Nyx stilled, blinking at him. As they slowly went up the stairs, Azriel rocked and cuddled Nyx, stretching his wings so they covered them in a dark canopy, the words of the lullaby muffled, but just as beautiful. Elain wished that it didn’t end…There were just a words that she picked up ‘warrior’ and ‘sleep’—something she learned from Cassian, who was teaching Nesta some Illyrain phrases, now that they spent a decent amount of time in their Illyrian bungalow.

In Nyx’s nursery, Azriel put the baby down in the crib and covered him with a blanket, rocking the crib lightly, as he continued his song, quieter now, seeing that Nyx’s eyelids drooped.

Wordlessly, he lifted his arm and Elain slipped to his side, and wrapped her arm around his torso. They never needed words.

Sleep, warrior heart

Sleep and know that you are loved

Sleep, warrior heart and meet me in silence

Find dreams and peaceful slumber, my little warrior heart

Azriel quietly translated the song, without her prompting. He knew that she’d want to know what the words meant. He, however, did not explain the history of the song and where and how he’d learned it.

“Yes.”

He looked down at her, a silent question on his face.

“The answer is ‘yes’,” she repeated. “You may court me.”

“Thank you,” was all he said.

They left the nursery and stopped in the hallway.

He put his hand on the back of her neck and stroked.

“Then I’d like for you to have this,” he said at last. He took something from his pocket and laid it in her palm. It was a key.

“We will have to meet in silence.”

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #elriel #azriel #elriel fanfic #elain x azriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #elain #nyx #my writing

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obxfishon · 4 years

Text

Consent

JJ x Reader

Description: The Pogues teach a boy a very important lesson on consent.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: okay I got a little carried away, but a very important lesson in this one, doesn’t go any further than some non consensual touches, but still a very serious topic :)

“(y/n), c’mon we gotta get over to John B’s to meet the boys!” Kiara yelled from the other room.

“You could help me find my other shoe rather than yell at me if you want this to move faster you know!” you called back, leaning down still searching for the matching converse.

After another five minutes of you and Kie looking you found it and tied it on.

“Okay, let’s goooo,” you smiled and grabbed the keys to your jeep.

You moved to the island a few months after Kie, around the time things had started falling apart between her and Sarah. Your Mom was big in the Hotel business so you were considered a Kook, but you had a love for the simpler things in life, Kie saw this and took you under her wing and introduced you to the boys.

Your mom could be more on the strict side and wasn’t a fan of you hanging out with the Pogues, but that just seemed like an extra push to start hanging out with them. Usually you would be dressed like a Kook when going out, no matter what the event, had to keep up your mom's nice reputation, but tonight was different. Your mother was off the island for the week due to some conference she had to attend, this meant you didn’t have anyone looking over your shoulder telling you what to wear, how to act, or correcting your posture every few seconds.

As soon as she left you told Kie to come and to bring outfit choices, this party would be the first one you could go to dressed how you wanted. Silly issue to be having, but the adrenaline rush this was giving you was something else.

---

Pulling into John B’s house you saw all the boys carrying the keg into his van, and you girls wasted no time in jumping out and rushing to help pack things.

“Hey ladies how- woah (y/n),” JJ’s words came to a halut as he saw what you were wearing.

Usually every part of you was covered in public, meaning one piece swimsuits or tankini sort of things, tonight you were wearing a bandeau bikini top with an unbuttoned shirt hanging off your shoulders, leaving your midriff exposed for the first time. Your jean shorts were also shorter than usual, but the whole outfit just felt so, so you, for the first time.

“Doesn’t she look great? Her mom is out of town for the week and we’re finally able to figure out her inner Pogue look,” Kie squealed. John B let out one of the whistles that are usually only heard in movies,

“Damn (y/n), finally showing some skin,” he winked and pushed your shoulder as he walked past and into his house for the last load of beers.

“Yeah gonna be a struggle to keep all the horny tourists off you (y/n),” Pope laughed and got into the van to get ready to go. Kie followed him and as you went to do the same JJ finally found his words again.

“Uh, yeah, really trying to steal my shirtless look aren't you,” He joked and slung an arm around your shoulders causing some butterflies to stir.

You and JJ had always joked and stuff back and forth, but you couldn’t help the feelings that grew for him, but you didn’t think he felt the same, he flirted with Kie as well, and any girl that would cross his path for that matter, so you saw it as just a helpless crush.

---

After arriving at the boneyard the crew set everything up and people slowly started filtering in, and Kie was quick to pull you out and you both started conversations with anyone who was willing to talk. Every so often JJ would swing by and replace your empty drink with a full one, you’d smile and thank him, and then disappear again.

Within an hour the party was in full swing and you were properly tipsey, not drunk, but just enough that you could feel your worries slip away.

Noticing your cup was near empty you finished it and started making your way towards where JJ was at the drink table, you made eye contact and before you could hold your cup up to signal you were empty a hand came to rest on your hip and turned you away from where you were going.

“Oh, uh hi,” you look up to see some boy that you had never seen around before.

“Well hello there gorgeous,” he smiled a crooked smile that some would see as cute, but you were all too aware of his hand that was making its way lower from its original placement on your hip. Trying to casually break away, you removed his hand and offered a quick,

“Sorry I need to go grab a refill,” before trying to walk away again.

Within seconds his arm was slung around your shoulders.

“Ah perfect, I'm empty too, i’ll join you.” he smiled again and not knowing what else to do. You offered a small nodd, knowing as soon as you got closer to your friends they would take care of him.

Back on your original course you looked up and made eye contact with JJ from a distance again, who was already looking at you, as well as Pope and John B. Even from a distance they could tell you were not comfortable, as you drew closer they already had a plan.

“Ah! (Y/n/n), what’s up?” John B smiled a grin full of mischief as you finally reached the table.

You opened your mouth to respond but the boy beside you took it upon himself to pull you closer to himself and answer for you.

“The lady and I just need a refill,” he answered and sent a wink your way.

Knowing the boys had something up their sleeve you played along and sent him a fake smile and finished it with an eye roll sent towards JJ as soon as the boy looked away.

“Well sure thing bud,” Pope smiled and sent a wink your way.

Before you knew it a cup beer was spilt all over the boy, and also you due to your proximity. The beer all over the boy caused him to release his hold and take a step back. Within these seconds JJ and John B had swung around the table, JJ pulling you towards him and John B offering apologies to the boy.

“Oh bro I am so sorry, that usually never happens,” John B was fighting off a smile, everyone knowing it had happened on purpose.

The boy scowled and looked back at you now in the arms of JJ, somehow not realizing that you weren’t interested.

“C’mon,” he motioned to you, “let’s go dry off somewhere quiet.”

“Nah man, I’ve got her, don’t worry I’ll take good care of her.” JJ responded and pulled you towards the back of the drink table with him.

The boy rolled his eyes and finally walked away. As soon as he was out of view, you hit Pope in the arm. “That's for soaking me with beer,” followed by a hug for each of them, “and that's for taking care of him.” you laughed and the boys did as well.

“Here,” JJ spoke, taking the unbuttoned shirt off he was wearing and replacing your beer soaked one with his.

“Not like I need a shirt anyways, the ladies love a bare chest.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed again as you shrugged on the new shirt. It was a bit bigger than the one you originally were wearing but smelled of JJ so it didn’t matter.

You hung with the boys and helped fill drinks until a particular song came on. You looked across the beach and saw Kiara doing the same, as soon as you made eye contact she started running towards you.

“Gotta go boys, this is Kie and I’s song!” you yelled at them before breaking into a run yourself and meeting Kie in the middle, breaking into a crazy set of jumping and movements that could very loosely be described as “dancing”.

Feeling the alcohol running through your veins you close your eyes and throw your hands to the sky, head leaning back and spin in a circle, truly enjoying yourself. Opening your eyes you saw that Kie was doing some weird set of moves herself and you both laughed until you felt unwanted hands on your hips and a mouth by your ear,

“Forget about me?” the boy from before whispered and you slightly panicked, Kie making eye contact with you and felt the tension.

“Uh hey dude, did she say you could hold her like that?” She asked as she moved closer, going to make an attempt at breaking him off but the boy just tightened his grip and pulled the two of you away, you could feel little finger shaped bruises forming where his grip held strong. You saw her eyes flicker behind you and a smirk fell on her lips.

“Dude, I think you have about ten seconds to let her go before you get the shit beat out of you.” Kie said in a sing-song voice looking directly at the boy with determination in her eyes.

You heard him scoff and he moved his arms around you fully, a hand about to rest on your breast before you struggled and he was ripped off of you and you were in the arms of a more familiar boy.

JJ held you to his chest and you relaxed into him, already feeling safer.

“Bro what the fuck is your problem?” The still unnamed boy looked at JJ with rage in his eyes.

By now a crowd was forming around JJ, the boy and yourself, and the music had cut off. Kiara, Pope, and John B all made their way to yours and JJ’s side, all staring at the boy who dared try to make a move on you without permission.

“What’s my problem? Dude what’s yours? You can’t just go around touching girls because you can’t keep it in your pants.” JJ retaliated.

“Oh please, she was enjoying it, weren’t you sweetheart?” He winked at you.

“Nah nah nah, you don’t look at her, you’re speaking to me,” JJ looked at him with daggers in his eyes, “and I don’t think she expressed any type of way of saying that she enjoyed your touch.”

“If she didn’t want my attention then maybe she should have been wearing something less..,” the boy tried to scan your body with his eyes, “revealing. She was basically asking for it.” The boy cocked his head to the side and stood his ground.

JJ pushed you behind him, lacing his fingers in your own to show that he still had you, but not allowing the perverted boy to look at you anymore.

“EXCUSE ME?” Kie tried to launch herself at the boy, but was held back by Pope.

“What the fuck bro, the way someone dresses does not give you permission to do ANYTHING.” Pope spoke, still holding onto Kie’s thrashing form.

“Listen here you little punk,” JJ sent a pointed look at the boy, “just because a girl is feeling confident, and wears something to show that, doesn’t give your grimey little hands permission to touch her at all. You can compliment her, tell her that you think she looks absolutely gorgeous, but you never, N-E-V-E-R, lay your hand on her until she says you can.” JJ speaks with anger dripping from every word.

Looking around he takes in the crowd.

“You know what, this goes for everyone, everyone should be educated. Consent is a very important thing, and I hope all you learned a very valuable lesson tonight.” JJ looked around the crowd.

“Now get the Hell out of here, this party is over.” He spoke for the last time.

The boy in front of you tried to turn and leave but John B caught his shoulder, “Ohh, oh no dude. You can’t go yet.” The boy looked up at him with a bit of fear in his eyes.

“You owe our friend here an apology.” John B grabbed him by his shoulders and forced him over to where you were standing behind JJ still, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hand.

The boy looked up and met your eyes, a softer look than before.

“Uh, I’m-” he coughed, realizing that this had to be good or he wasn’t going anywhere, “I’m sorry that I offended you, that I did what I did without permission.” He looked at his feet then up at JJ and then the rest of the gang, “You do look very nice tonight.” He finished and John B threw him to the side, signaling that he could leave.

“Damn right she does,” JJ muttered and you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

He pulled you around to his front and embraced you, the others joining in as well.

---

You all rode back in John B’s van, JJ still not letting you go. After arriving back he offered to drive you back to your place, you accepted. He grabbed your keys and a hoodie from the house and put the grey material over your head and placed a small kiss on your hairline after. Saying your goodbyes to the rest you both got in your jeep and started the short ride to your house.

“Um, JJ,” you almost whispered, scared to break the silence.

He looked over at your small form curled in the seat, snuggled into his hoodie and grabbed your hand in a way to signal you to continue.

“I was just wondering, um, and you don’t have to, but my mom isn’t home, and uh,

I don’t really want to be alone, uh… would you stay with me tonight?” you look at him from your seat, and he brought your hand to his lips for a short kiss.

“Of course,” he smiled at you and you returned it.

---

When you got home you both seemed to move right for the bedroom, both exhausted from the events of the night.

You changed into a large tshirt and sleep shorts, and him into something similar from a bag you didn’t realize he had with him.

You both laid in the bed and he opened his arms, silently asking if you wanted to cuddle. You moved toward him again and laid your head on his chest, one of his hands running his fingers through your hair, the other laid on your waist and you flinched from an unexpected pain, thinking you didn’t want his hand there he went to move but you stopped him.

“No, JJ you’re fine, I think I just have a bruise there or something,” You explained.

Concerned, he grasped the hem of your shirt, looking up at you,

“Can I see?” he so innocently asked.

You sat up and nodded, him pulling the shirt up just enough to see five small bruises formed where the boy’s hands had grasped you, a few crescent shaped scabs from where his nails must have broken skin without you even realizing. Both of your mouths dropped open in shock, his thumb rubbing softly over the bruises, wishing he could just turn back time and stop it all from happening.

“Thank you,” you muttered, “thank you from stopping him, for being there for me, you literally gave me the shirt off your back, you were my shirtless hero,” you laughed, trying to bring some humor to the situation, and it worked. He giggled and looked up at you, you swore you saw his eyes dart to your lips but it happened so fast you swore you imagined it.

“(Y/n),” he started, conversation turning serious, “I would do anything for you, no matter the danger, I-,” he started to stutter, “I care for you, so much, so much more than a friend should, and I want to be with you, like you know-” he fumbled over his words, you could see his confidence fading with every word, so you stopped him with one word.

“Yes.”

He looked up at you with shock on his face, and then a smile crept on and he pulled you into a tight hug, breaking away just enough to look into your eyes, noses now touching,

“Can I-” he started to ask and you cut him off with bringing your lips to his, finally living the dream you’ve had since you met him.

After a few short moments you broke apart and cuddled back into the position you were originally in.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” JJ whispered and pushed a small kiss on your forehead.

You just smiled, “What are we gonna tell the rest of the Pogues?” you giggled, remembering the rule that existed.

JJ let out a breathy laugh and held you closer to him.

“I don’t even care, there isn’t a single thing in the world that could ruin this.” he smiled, and you both drifted into a blissful sleep.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj imagine #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #obxstuff #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks #imagine

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pparkerpoetry · 3 years

Text

Face Reality (Part 9)

Title: Confrontation and Avoiding the Truth (fear the strength of a father wronged)

Summary: A few of the boys go to confront their past. One decides to avoid it. And, at the end of it all, they fall onto Sam, their father. (Sam also kills a god, but that's unimportant.)

- Chapter One - Chapter Ten

Masterlist

____________

Occasionally, they’d all go somewhere, as a family. It was odd, such a big group traveling together, but they made it work. Other times, they’d travel in smaller groups, like when Sam had to go to the prison. None of them liked Warden Sam a whole lot, but they knew deep down that it was the same Sam that comforted them late at night. Tommy never went, though.

At least, not until now.

“Someone wants to visit the prisoner.” Sam said while they were all eating breakfast one morning.

The early morning chatter paused. Ranboo hummed a little nervously. “Maybe I’ll go with you today. I haven’t seen the prison in a while.”

Fundy sighed. “Who’s visiting him?”

“George.” Sam winced, knowing he didn’t particularly like the man.

“Guess I won’t go today, then.” Fundy mumbled, looking down and shoveling some more food into his mouth.

It was quiet for the rest of breakfast, just the clinking of forks against plates filling the silence. After Ranboo was done, he got ready, and met Sam at the entrance of their home. Right as the door opened, Tommy shuffled over.

“Could I come today?” He asked, wings circling around his body.

Sam nodded. “Of course you can. Are you sure you want to, though? You might have to see, uh, Dream.”

Tommy flinched at the name. “Yeah. I think I need to go.”

They left, then, and the journey was a soft show of how Sam and Ranboo cared for Tommy. They walked closer than Tommy probably would’ve liked, they bristled whenever they heard something. Tommy appreciated it, though, Ranboo could tell. His wings were relaxed and comfortable on his back rather than fluffed out like they were a while ago.

When they reached the prison, Ranboo caught a glimpse of blue on the horizon coming towards them. The three of them were safely inside before the visitor arrived, though.

As usual, Sam brought them to a little hidden room that could see the cell without being seen. Sam stood there whenever visitors arrived, so Tommy and Ranboo waited there while he guided the guests to the cell.

They watched as George walked over the bridge to look at Dream. Tommy looked down. He was starting to regret coming, so Ranboo put an arm around his shoulders. Sam came over a minute later, and they watched George.

The man had looked better. His posture was slumped, his hair swept to the side stiffly, like it hadn’t been washed in a while. He looked defeated.

“George.” Dream said, voice slightly wobbling in a way undetectable by anyone who was just casually watching the interaction.

George looked at the while mask for a second before sighing. “Dream. It’s been a while since I visited. Thought I’d see if you needed anything, make sure Sam’s treating you well. As well as he can, considering you’re a monster, anyway.” he shrugged, missing the way Dream folded into himself a little.

It was quiet. A painful, tense silence.

Dream broke it. “How’ve you been?”

“I left.” George said, looking up with tears in his eyes. “I left after the last visit and you didn’t care. I went with Karl and Sapnap, we had a fun time. Built a library. I was enjoying myself, but after everything you’ve done, I can’t be away from you. I hate you, but I still want what we had back.”

“George…” Dream groaned, silently begging him to stop.

“No. No, Dream. You are going to sit here and listen. After all the nights I’ve spent awake wondering if I should visit, you are going to sit here and acknowledge what you’ve done.” George snapped. “You spent years with Sapnap and I just to leave us at the drop of a hat for what, power? Why did you change? Was I not good enough? Do you hate me? Because after what you’ve done, I’m starting to think that there’s nothing left here for me.” It was silent again. When George spoke next, it was softer. “Say something, Dream. Say something, anything, and I’ll come back. I’ll stay. For you.”

“George,” Dream started, before trailing off into meaningless mutters.

He started begging. “Anything, Dream. Give me any clue that there’s a part left of the old you that I can save and I’ll stay. I promise.”

Dream stayed quiet, all the words he wanted to say biting the tip of his tongue. Instead, he said, “Then leave. See if I care. Our time is over, George. When I get out of here, I’ll be a stranger to the ones that I once loved.”

“I hope you burn in hell.” George whispered, turning away so that Dream wouldn’t see the tears he shed. He didn’t deserve to see how his words hurt. “Sam, I’m ready to go.”

Dream reached out a hand, but pulled it back. He needed to remember his plan. This was worth it.

“Bye, Dream.”

Sam had left Ranboo and Tommy to escort the broken man out, and once he came back, Tommy stood up. “Can I go visit him? I think… I think I need to talk to him.”

Even Warden Sam hesitated. “Sure.”

Tommy didn’t fill out the books, it wasn’t necessary. He finally stood above Dream, wings flared out as his anger grew.

“Hey Tommy,” Dream drawled. “Those wings are new.”

“Not really,” Tommy shrugged. “I just haven’t felt the need to tell you every little thing about my life, nowadays. No since you, you know, pushed me to almost kill myself.”

Dream wasn’t sure he liked how blunt Tommy was being. “But didn’t you hide things from me before? Isn’t that why you deserve that ending?”

Tommy scoffed. “Say what you will, Small D. I’ve got a family, I’ve healed, I’m happy. I’m not going to let you manipulate me when I’ve got the ending all heroes want and you’re here getting yelled at by George, for all I care, rotting until the ends of time. It worked back then, but not now.”

“But I’m your friend!” Dream crooned, trying to get under Tommy’s feathers.

“No you aren’t!” Tommy shouted, before pausing to calm down. “You hit me, you blew up my stuff, you abused me, Dream. You aren’t my friend. So what if it took an actual family and therapy to figure that out. You aren’t my friend, Dream, and frankly, I don’t think you have any.”

Dream hummed. “So you got smart. You gonna hit me? Get angry? Lose your temper and see how long it takes to hurt me?”

Tommy laughed at that. “No, I’m not. If you think I’m going to turn around and be as bad as you, then you’re dumber than I took you for. I’m not here for you, Dream. I’m here for me. I finally got myself back after all these years, and I came here to look you in the eyes so that you know how truly alone you are.” He paused as he started to turn around. “Y’know, I’d almost feel bad for you, if I hadn’t known that this was your own fault.”

Sam brought him back, and Ranboo smiled at the blond. “Do you feel better?”

The grin that Ranboo got as a response was telling. “I do! I feel like a big, huge man! I mean, I always was, but boy,” His wings stretched out further, proud, “I feel like I could take over the world.”

Ranboo thought about that for a while. How confident Tommy was, how relieved he felt. Ranboo wanted to feel that. Get that closure. He wasn’t sure he’d find it in Dream, though. They’d never spoken, after all. Not since Ranboo was accepted onto this server, anyway.

He found a way to get it when Karl was over one day, visiting. He’d always come alone, making an excuse as to why his fiances (husbands? Ranboo wasn’t sure if they got married or not.) couldn’t come.

They were having a picnic, all of them just hanging around snacking on food. Some of them couldn’t make it, but that wasn’t their fault.

Ranboo was sitting with his arms propping him up, staring up at how the wind moved the leaves of trees. It seemed so gentle, so relaxing, until the wind picked up and the rustling grew louder and violent. Karl was smiling, but the smile seemed to hide some uneasiness. He wasn’t sure what for, but he figured that if he'd been a time traveler in a unique timeline with little to no idea of what happened next, he’d be nervous, too.

His thoughts wandered to the green festival, how he’d been exposed as a traitor and almost executed by one of the men who wasn’t feasting in the meadow. He wasn’t sure why his mind brought it up, maybe because his mind picked up on the green around him, and as the laughter filtered into his hazy mind, they were contorted to screams.

“-you alright? Ranboo?”

Ranboo turned to see Karl looking at him funny. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“Okay,” Karl said dubiously. “If you say so.”

“Actually,” Ranboo spoke up, making Karl turn to him again. “Do you think I could go with you when you go back to your house? I think I want to visit, uh, Quackity.”

All conversation (or it seemed like it, at least,) stopped. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tubbo asked, looking concerned.

“Yeah!” Ranboo said, trying to sound cheerful. “I haven’t seen him in awhile. I want to see how he’s doing.”

“Sure.” Karl shrugged. “He and Sapnap went to the nether today, but you might catch them tonight. We have a spare room, too.”

So it was decided. Ranboo left with Karl that afternoon, but not without getting a tight hug from Sam and a package of snacks for the trip.

Quackity and Sapnap were already home by the time Ranboo and Karl arrived, and it was kind of comical how surprised they looked at seeing the enderman.

“Hey, Ranboo.” Quackity started slowly. “Karl caught me up with what happened to you after everyone gave up searching. I… I’m sorry, man. I really am.”

Karl ushered Sapnap out of the room to let the other two talk. Ranboo spoke next. “I’d like to say it’s okay, I really would. I just… don’t you realize what you did to me back then?”

“Of course I do,” Quackity exclaimed softly. “There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t regret how I acted. I know it doesn’t excuse anything, I know that being almost executed is pretty traumatic, I wish I could’ve been better, you were just a kid, but-”

“Hey,” Ranboo interrupted. “We all have regrets. I’m getting help, and I think you are too,” The nod confirmed it, “I don’t think either of us are at fault for what happened. I think we can put it behind us. After all, being on this server causes a lot of stress.”

“You can say that again,” Quackity laughed, and Ranboo noticed small wings stretch out behind him.

“Oh, hey, Tommy has wings too,” Ranboo mentioned.

“He, he what???” Quackity asked. “Wings? Since when?”

They caught up more after that. It wasn’t perfect, but when Ranboo went back home the next morning, he felt happier. He felt content, and safe, and he was glad he’d gone.

Purpled didn't get such a luxury that night. His mind was plagued with the horrors that he'd lived through not even a month ago, though he wanted nothing more than to finally rest.

It all started when he dreamed of waking up. It seemed realistic, and well, he couldn't bear the thought of not waking up, so he believed it.

He woke up quickly. What had he been dreaming of? He couldn't remember. He knew that it had caused the sinking feeling of terror in his bones, though, and knew it was real from the exhaustion in his body.

His room looked different. Had the walls always been red? He wasn't sure. Why did he… what was he here for? Hadn't he fallen asleep in the room that they all shared?

Hadn't he?

Purpled got up and padded over to the door. It swung open before him, but he didn't recall touching the handle. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. Yes, that was it. He was just tired.

He wanted to go to Sam. He'd had a nightmare, right? Yes. He wanted Sam. He wanted comfort. In his hazy mind, those were the same.

...When had he gotten to Sam's door? Hadn't he just been outside of his own room a minute ago? Nevermind that. Purpled wanted a hug.

He walked into the room. Sam lay there, still asleep.

"Sam?"

He did not wake. Purpled tried again, a little louder. "Sam?"

Nothing. Once more, "...Dad?"

Purpled was about to leave when something clicked in his mind. Why was it so quiet? Yes, why? Sam snored a bit, not loudly, but he was never this quiet. He walked over to the bed, and rolled Sam over.

Instead of a soft smile, there was blood on the corner of Sam's mouth, a blank stare, and red staining the sheets.

What was that weight in his hands?

Purpled looked down, and he was met with the glinting grin of a sword. He'd done this. He killed Sam. Why wasn't Sam respawning?

He backed away slowly. He had to check on the others, make sure they were okay, oh, god- he’d blacked out again. He’d done the one thing he was terrified he would, he’d killed Sam, oh-

The door to the room that they all shared loomed in front of him. Why was he dizzy? He stumbled into the room to see what had happened. Hopefully nothing, but oh, god-

Tommy lay on the ground, wing stretching towards the door, telling the story of a failed defense, feathers torn and dirty, stained red like Sam’s bed had been. Under one of his wings was Tubbo- but which had died first? Was it Tubbo, and Tommy was grieving the loss of the only friend that had been there since the beginning? Or was it Tommy who was the first to fall, selfless until the end, hoping that Tubbo might be spared?

Purpled didn’t know.

Ranboo and Fundy were next to each other, Ranboo’s head on Fundy’s lap as his purple blood spilled onto the ground as if in his last moments he was pulled close to Fundy, the one he’d spent so long saving and healing. Fundy’s eyes were blank, slumped against a bed, fur matted and tangled. Purpled wanted to reach out to fix it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when he’d been the one to do this.

He tried to walk backwards, try to desperately deny that any of this had happened, but his foot caught on something and he tumbled onto his back- it was a wing, oh no, it was Tommy’s wing that he’d fallen over, and now he was looking into those dead, foggy eyes-

The hallway came into view, and it didn’t offer any solace to the boy born and raised in violence and abandonment. Puffy and Niki were by the door, tight in an embrace that held no fear because they would be together, even in death. It was a story of love that had been ended by Purpled’s blade, and he couldn’t bear to look at it, but everywhere he looked strengthened the burning feeling that he felt rising up his throat.

There- Eret, crown fallen, splattered with what Purpled really hoped was just… paint? He turned again, and Karl- wait.

Karl was alive.

“Karl, thank god, you’re alive, please, are you okay?”

Karl startled and scrambled backwards to get away from Purpled. His eyes were full of fear, but that was better than blank-

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Purpled squinted. “I know it wasn’t supposed to happen, Karl, I killed everybody! That means pretty much everything that could go wrong, did! Why didn’t anyone stop me? Don’t you guys have, like… I don’t know, overpowered armor and weapons? I’m still in my pajamas!”

Karl shook his head. “No, you don’t understand, Purpled- I- this, this shouldn’t have happened! I know time! I know vaguely how this timeline ends and this isn’t it! I don’t know how, but Purpled, you’ve altered time in a way that I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist!”

“What do you mean?” Purpled spluttered. “Mess with time? I’m barely an adult!”

“What are you?” Karl asked fearfully, and Purpled blinked, and just like that, everyone but him was dead in the house. It was quiet except for his horrified sobs that began to echo as he stepped past Karl to leave and get outside. He couldn’t tell if there were any trees there, or even if the sky was blue, but it all seemed so real despite that, like someone was trying to warn him, disguising the future as a dream.

Wait- no, he remembered. He really wished he didn’t remember, he wished with all of the bones in his body and with all of the coins that he could throw down any mossy wishing well that he could forget, but not for the first time, the world looked down on Purpled and sneered.

His heart rate began to speed up. He needed to get away, he couldn’t let that happen here-

He was gone before he’d even realized it. There was a bag, packed, and though it took some time to make sure that he wouldn’t wake up anyone as they stayed in their slumber, Purpled managed. Before he left for good, he wrote a quick note so that they wouldn’t worry, and walked by Sam’s room to hear the comforting sound of gentle snoring. During movie night (he’d miss that terribly, he decided, but this was for the better. The better of them, not him, but wasn’t that more important? Wasn’t everything he’d done to get to them, to help them, to make sure they never stooped as low as he had?) he’d usually find it annoying, but as he shut the front door behind him, he couldn’t find the strength to care very much.

He was leaving them, and they very well might hate him for it, but he needed to do this. For their safety. And, as the sun struggled to keep it’s grasp on the horizon, staining his hair the same color he’d feared so much, he felt at peace. He needed to do this. Maybe if he repeated it enough, the feelings that he had would become genuine.

By the time Ranboo woke up, hours later, the sun now mourning the loss of one of her creations, he wasn’t the first to see Purpled’s note. He was the last, to be precise. The last to look at the tiny piece of paper, scribbled in handwriting that could only be Purpled’s. The last to have their eyes filled with tears.

Sure, he thought he was doing the right thing, but surely, surely he had felt safe with them. Safe with the family that loved him so much, the family that would stop at nothing to find him again. The family that could crumble so easily and erase all the healing that had been done, just with the loss of one.

The searches that followed made Ranboo uneasy. It reminded him too much of what must've happened when he had disappeared, and he hated that it was happening again. His motivations had been more selfish, (not selfish. He wasn’t selfish for leaving when he was underappreciated. He just hadn’t realized his importance in the lives of others.) but he hated that he must’ve put this much sorrow into the hearts of the ones that searched for him.

It grew dark as the results came up empty. Everyone returned to the house, saddened and disheartened, but then- and Ranboo wasn’t quite sure if this was a stroke of genius or a hopeless dead end that cursed him even after all this time- he knew where Purpled had gone.

Where would he have gone to escape everyone? To make sure no one would find him? To be absolutely sure that they were safe from him? Well, he’d already gone there.

The End.

(of what? His mind whispered. Another just-healed life? A family? What was this the end of? Everything he’d been living for?)

Blindly, in a haze of panic, Ranboo ran outside. He didn’t know what direction to go in, he felt hands pulling him back but suddenly they were gone, and he was deep in the forest. It happened again, and he didn’t quite register just how many times it happened until he was hit by a blast of cold-

Had he just teleported?

Nevermind that, his thoughts reminded him. Nevermind your power, nevermind the past that the cold will bring up, you have a job to do.

He stumbled to the shore’s edge, not caring how armorless he was. Diving into the water was painful, but the headache that was growing and the exhaustion setting into his body distracted him from it. His feet brought him to the room that he’d stood at, and for a second he could feel all of the blood rush from his face.

There, next to a now lit portal, was the god that had been part of the reason he had been so alone, and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, let Purpled go through the same thing. No one deserved the fate that he’d submitted himself to all those years ago.

And, next to the glowing wings, was a familiar purple sweatshirt, the person it belonged to looking devastated and broken.

Purpled looked up, and met Ranboo’s eyes. Neither were sure which pair of eyes held more emotion. Ranboo’s, full of shock that he was right, filled with pain that Purpled never thought to stay, telling the story of someone who’s lived out this ending and never wanted to go near it again, but has. Or, maybe Purpled’s, thought to be the least fucked-up of the bunch, eyes flooded with the memories that never let him rest, sick of it all and just wanting his family safe.

Purpled’s, which held the story of an apology. “I’m sorry,” it said, narrated in a tear-filled voice though no words were spoken. “I’m sorry that it had to end this way, I really am, but it’s better this way.”

“Then why does it hurt?” Ranboo’s responded, bringing up the regret that the story had brought.

The hesitation it caused as one foot lifted into the air was enough time. Ranboo let out a screech, somewhere between a shout of No!, and the warble of an enderman. He wasn’t sure which one it was closer to, but he knew that he had finally done something right as he felt the weight of Purpled collide with his, falling to the ground behind the portal instead of into the dark expanse.

“Let me go!” Purpled cried, the tears streaming down his face. He’d been so close to making sure they were safe, why did Ranboo stop him?

“No,” Ranboo growled, holding down Purpled as he struggled and tried to escape. “I’m not letting you go there. Not when it’s done what it has to me. Not when I know what it will do to you. Not when I know that I almost lost myself, and that I’ll lose you, too. I couldn’t bear to lose you. Not after all we’ve been through.”

Purpled went limp, falling into Ranboo’s arms as they both cried. It had been a long day, they were tired, and they wanted to go home.

There was the issue of the very not amused god, though. They’d gone way off script, and he was sick of it. He wanted control back.

___________________

Sam wanted his sons back.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew where they were. He knew almost immediately after Ranboo had gasped softly and ran outside toward where he knew the snowy tundra was. People tried to stop him, but the teleportation was new. Something they’d have to work on, certainly, but there was no time.

He set off a little while later. He trusted Ranboo to deal with it, but figured they could use some backup to get home. Sam used his trident, and flew through the air. It would’ve been enjoyable if he wasn’t so worried about Purpled.

While he wasn’t sure what he expected, but seeing an angry god standing over his two children wasn’t it.

“Get away from them.” Sam said, hoping he wouldn’t have to get into a fight with a deity. Fate wasn’t on his side though. When had it ever been?

“Get away?” The god laughed. “I am powerful. I can shift reality. Create matter. Do you know pain, Awesamdude? I am made from the very essence of pain, and if you interfere here, you will learn of it.”

Sam had the audacity to laugh. He was scared, but he laughed. “Pain? You think I don’t know pain? How much of an idiot are you?” The laughter cut off, replaced with a cold, chilling voice. “I know more pain and hurt than you’d ever know. My story isn’t controlled by you, and neither am I. Now, get away from them.”

The deity would have been pouting, mockingly, had he a face. “You aren’t controlled by me? You really think so?” He crooned, reaching a hand out towards Sam. “How long do you think you can pretend that’s true?”

Sam felt his throat close, his lungs contract. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get the air he needed-

The air rushed into his lungs, only for walls of obsidian to be built, crushing him and leaving no space to move.

“How long can you escape me?”

As soon as he mined the blocks, more appeared. When they ceased, lava was poured onto the stone and he felt the heat through the protection of his boots.

“How long can you survive in a world that I run?”

When the lava was scooped up, it was quickly replaced with a skeleton, shooting an arrow through the weak part of his armour. Sam hissed, and fell back in pain, feeling the gunpowder rise up his throat. He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t. His boys would get caught up in the explosion and get hurt- Sam spared a desperate glance to them to make sure they were alright, but the deity caught it.

“How long do you think you can protect them? Who even are you to challenge me when I am the god of these lands, who writes your futures?”

A wave of rage rolled off of Sam with the strength of a thousand tsunamis at the thought of this slimy fingered fuck touching his boys, startling the deity and breaking the connection that had been held. Sam unsheathed his sword as he stood up, and pushed it into (what he assumed was) the body of the god.

“Me?” He snarled. “I’m their father. And if you think I won’t kill anything that’s standing in their way of a happy life, then you deserve everything that I want to do to you for preventing their safety.”

The god had a hard time breathing, but he spoke again. His head had no mouth, but the words were coming out slower, now. “I won’t die, if you do this. I’ll come back later, I’ll destroy everything you love. I cannot truly be killed.”

“You come and try.” Sam whispered into what he really hoped his ears were. “You come and try to touch a single hair on any one of my boy’s heads, and you see what happens. You can’t write my script because I’ve burned it in the flames that you’ve made of my past, so try and see what will happen if I see you again. I dare you.”

With that, the air was silent as the god disappeared, nothing left of him but a shining portal still lit and a message in the chat.

DreamXD has left the game.

He knelt down next to Purpled and Ranboo, who were trembling, still locked in a tight embrace. “C’mon, boys.” He sighed wearily. It’d been a long day, and he could check kill a god off of his bucket list. “Let’s go home.” He was holding his side and would limp back, but he repeated it.

“Let’s go home.”

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suspiciouslybluemilktea · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Unknown x CMC Uyu (hey 2 ‘U’s 💗)

This lil piece was written for @official-rfa ‘s request for some Unknown lap kissies, which I just had to do because that is already such a solid chunk of my brainrot

It’s still the 25th for me TT my time zone is just wacky and behind so I promise this addition is on time! I apologize for portions where my writing abilities fall through as it’s late and I’m falling asleep while writing jfjfjd

Unknown was the type of man Uyu could easily say she’d never let herself care for, let alone fall for, at least initially.

It wasn’t that she found his looks unappealing, being as gaunt and lacking in strength as he was, unlike the conventional standard most held for a man. It also wasn’t because of a lack of intelligence or his style of dress, nor was it necessarily about personality.

It was simply because he was nothing more than her kidnapper day one, which to those with sanity, does not equal the perfect spark for a new relationship.

Letting the ‘Stockholm syndrome’ take over took its time, but eventually it won that battle over her screaming consciousness.

To her, Unknown is undeniably dangerously attractive. He’s as alluring as the cheesy myth of a beautiful vampire: tempting. Tempting you to join him and leave your world far behind you to live in his paradise for all eternity. And well, with the way he lets himself live, he may as well be a member of the undead.

Those mint eyes are the secret to his trance, a shivery coolness washing over her second she feels them lurking. When they capture hers, that’s when she’s done for, swallowing what feels like her entire heart caught in her throat.

And that’s not even mentioning the touches.

Uyu knows he does it all more frequently now to have his fun provoking a reaction, feeling cocky enough to test her now that she won’t get violent and swat him away. It can be something as simple as brushing her hair away to expose one side of her neck, and then lightly putting his fingertips to it, tracing up and down.

His hands are always cold without fail, but when one simply does as much as caress her cheek, she knows her body temperature is the perfect contrast to his.

He has her caught right where he wants her, but in some ways, she’s got him too. She’s not blind to his reactions when her warm hands massage his aching shoulders or fiddle with his coarse hair, feeling him lean into the sensation and soon expect more doting. The secret to getting “back at him” is affection he doesn’t ask for, being quite obviously touch starved.

Unknown, who very much like herself was so closed off at first, has grown used to a new presence in the dismal work room. That tiny woman’s existence now fills up the silence which previously engulfed his; from the sounds of her breathing, to her nagging, to her lips casually brushing against his skin for a soft peck. He rationalizes that Uyu is useful to him like this, since she can’t code worth a darn and refuses to, she can at least keep him going. As annoying as his assistant can be, forcing him to break from his many duties, he’ll admit he feels less lethargic now, although never aloud.

He’s survived on so little everything for so long, it’s irritating that she can’t understand him from her point of view, being so much weaker than he is. Quite frankly, with how strong he’s become in the powerful position he holds, he lets her get away with too much.

Almost daily, he’ll catch himself wondering why he does so.

She’s allowed to be so close to him, touching him and speaking to him without the same terror held in the lusterless eyes of the believers. Perhaps this is where the biggest shake up in his life lies, fear seeming to be the only thing those around him are capable of, unlike her. They all equally tremble in wake of the bark and bite of the savior’s guard dog.

Even now, as his lovely assistant rests in his lap, melatonin pouring from within her hands hard at work on getting out the knots in his back; she touches him with comfort and familiarity.

Uyu earlier shifted positions to sort of awkwardly wrap around facing him, head down resting on him to keep from blocking his vision of the monitor. In response to this, Unknown untensed and slumped forwards with his chin on her small shoulder, snaking his arms past her to type.

Dan understands she’s doing a decent job acting as his masseuse, not because he verbally praises her, but instead because when she finds a good spot, she’ll earn a gentle grunt from him.

Her ‘boss’ isn’t much for words, but actions and reactions make his truths readable. That is how she knows he likes it when she sits with him in the dead of night like this, even if she nods off doing so, which she’s already beginning to do.

If she can just get him to relax a bit more, perhaps dragging him to bed won’t be a challenge today.

She picked up her head and arms slightly, fingers finding their way to the back of his head to tangle in his locks and pet him with a soothing rhythm. She spoke in a whisper by his ear.

“Come now, let’s get some rest.”

No response.

“Unknown…?”

Calling his “name” (which he still refused to tell her, thinking it was so cute that she’d refer to him by a silly unchanged username in the first place), earned a low grumble this time. He was actively ignoring her, as well as his need for rest, which just wouldn’t do.

If he wanted to play stubborn, so be it.

She moved in to bring herself down to his throat, this time calling for his attention in a hush he could warmly feel against his skin.

“Unknown..”

He shifted in his seat, but Uyu wouldn’t stop there. Next came a kiss to his sensitive skin, and then another, and another, trailing from his throat up to the side of his neck and back down momentarily to go over spots that made him shiver, including his collar bones.

She wasn’t stopping her game of testing and he wasn’t ending his silence, although he was stiffening up a lot. This man surely was damn headstrong.

“Unknown..”

The next brush of her lips came to his earlobe, then moving to string along his jawline, soft and delicate as butterfly wings fluttering on each part of his cool skin. This time she finally earned a flinch.

“Feeling a bit kissy now, are we?”

He pulled away a tad, ending the little contest by taking her cheeks in one hand with a small squish, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“If your goal is to wind me down or seduce me into falling asleep, it’s not working.”

He smirked witnessing the red tinge he brought to her face now giving her the time of day. Without fail, she could act confident until he stepped in to change that, and Unknown quite liked the feeling of control over situations it gave him.

“If this isn’t working, then what will?”

“Not teasing me, that’s for sure.”

She gave him a fake pout.

“So you’re telling me just go straight for the lips next time, then?”

“Next time?”

His gaze changed to linger on her lips as he released her cheeks.

“Correct the mistake now, doll. Then we’ll talk.”

And with that, Dan went red as a ripe strawberry on a sunny day, but no amount of stuttering and stammering would wipe away his smug look. Knowing her awkwardness, she’d just make a fool of herself trying to stay calm and collected.

With no room for arguments, she just captured his sugary tasting lips as he had asked within a pleasurable kiss, hoping the oxytocin would do the trick and knock him down a peg.

Their kiss was tender and long, him moving his hands down to hold her by the waist with her legs straddling him to his rolly office chair. He was the one to pull her in deeper, making it more intense as his round cheeks flushed up to his ears with a burning heat. It felt more natural to do now, their eyes both shut as they untensed and melted together. Uyu pressed into his chest to feel closer, winning an escaped muffled groan from him.

He felt tense at first, maybe not 100% expecting the collision to happen so immediately, solid before he warmed up like butter in a microwave. She too let out a soft “mm”, hands then working down his arms with a ticklish motion to fuss with the clasp of one of his spiked bracelets, removing it from his wrist. This made him pull away gently, catching his breath before speaking.

“And what are you doing now, princess?”

“Well you can’t sleep with that on, can you? It might poke you when you roll over in bed…and now that I’ve corrected my mishap, that’s exactly where I’m dragging you. You need to get some sleep.”

For now, Unknown will let his good little helper believe she’s in the clear for taunting him and pulling him away from his duties. For now.

#saeran choi #unknown saeran #Uyu #Dan Byeol #mystic messenger cmc #cmcs

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fantastic-secrets · 3 years

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Butterfly Wings [2]

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke

Warnings: Threat of Violence, Dubious Consent, Oral Sex

Word Count: 1.9k

[Part 1]

When no more uncharacteristic, unsettling incidents occurred, even when the two men were alone together, Gin allowed himself to relax slightly. As he'd hoped, Rangiku hadn't come to Fifth Company, instead taking a position in the Tenth. Still, even though it wasn't the worst case scenario, it wasn't the best, either. If she'd been able to join the First or Second… but as he'd truthfully admitted to Aizen, she was nothing more than an ordinary, average shinigami. Shiba-taichou didn't seem like he would be an impediment to Aizen's plan, but Gin had secretly resolved to cut him down if he ever got in the way, before she could be exposed to danger.

Since she'd graduated from the academy, though, Rangiku seemed to have much more free time, which she sometimes spent trying to cajole Gin into spending more time with her and others. For the most part, he managed to brush off her invitations with vague excuses about work, all the while being acutely aware of warm brown eyes following him. Aizen already knew that she was the only person that Gin really talked to besides himself, so Gin struggled to maintain the illusion that he didn't have any particular feelings for her. If his fukutaichou seized upon the idea that she was his weakness, Gin had no idea what he might do. From what he knew of the other man, he was just as likely to pick her for his experiments as he was to promise Gin that she'd be perfectly safe from them. Still, he couldn't refuse all of her invitations, so he'd occasionally end up on the sidelines as Rangiku simply celebrated life while he quietly accumulated others' discomfort and distrust despite being a model shinigami.

He was returning from one such gathering when the soft grinding of a door sliding open caught his attention. Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw Aizen standing in the doorway of his rooms, a freshly lit taper held in a candle holder. Once their eyes met, the older man disappeared into his quarters, leaving the door open. A quick glance around told him that nobody else seemed to be present--it was late, after all--and the only light in the compound came from the fukutaichou's room, since everyone else was likely asleep. Silently, he obeyed the unspoken order, following the flickering light until he paused on the threshold of what was clearly Aizen's private quarters. The man himself lounged casually on a futon, his robes draped loosely around his body.

"Come in and sit down," Aizen suggested, his tone no different than if they had been in his office. Gingerly, Gin stepped into the room and knelt beside his commanding officer. For a brief moment, a sly smile slid across Aizen's face as he reached out to clasp Gin's thin, pale wrist. Gin's mind had barely begun to process what was happening when it froze at the touch of cold steel at his throat. Suddenly, the bloodlust in the room was nearly suffocating, and he held himself deathly still, certain that any movement would be his last.

"Aizen-fukutaichou? What're ya doing?" he asked quietly after a long minute of silence, once he was certain his voice wouldn't shake. The feeling of overpowering dread lessened slightly, though it didn't dissipate, and the keen blade continued to rest against his neck. Even if he'd been inclined to reach for his own weapon, he couldn't do so without alerting the other man, whose hand remained loosely encircling his wrist.

"What does it look like to you, Ichimaru-kun?" The more formal method of address, which Aizen hadn't used in years, confused Gin. Of course, that wasn't to say that he couldn't think of a reason for this whole scenario, but he would never admit to it out loud. Still, he had a feeling that his usual blasé attitude wouldn't fly in this situation, either, so he chose to remain silent, studying Aizen's expression even as the other man studied his. In the end, the older man was the one to break the silence with a light chuckle, withdrawing his blade and setting it aside before releasing his grip on his subordinate.

"I apologize for that, Gin," he said, full of sincere contrition that Gin didn't believe for a moment. "I'd only wanted to surprise you. You're quite skilled at hiding your feelings behind that mask, so it's always a pleasure to see something else. And, of course, I'd also hoped that I could see your eyes again. Most people seem to think they're red, you know. It's an understandable mistake, given your coloration. Is there a reason you don't open them normally?"

"Ya said yourself that ya didn't want others seein' them, right?" Gin replied with a smile, the aforementioned mask back in place over the turmoil of his thoughts. "But even before that, this is just how my eyes are. Walkin' around with 'em wide open would be like ya walkin' around with yours shut. 'least, long as I can remember, I've always been like this."

"You're quite obliging, aren't you? I really do hope you're not this way with anyone else, or I might have to kill them." Though it sounded like a good-natured joke, there was an edge to the statement that made him wonder how serious Aizen was. Deliberately, the fukutaichou stretched into a sitting position, placing a hand on Gin's shoulder and pushing him down. When he started to loosen the younger man's shihakushou, everything clicked together.

Gin wasn't so innocent as to be unaware of sex, though he'd never engaged in it himself. Nor was he ignorant of the fact that, especially in the worse parts of Rukongai, rapes sometimes occurred. He'd seen the looks of some men when they saw Rangiku, leers that filled him with a cold rage that was only sated when their hot blood spilled at his feet. But he'd never considered that Aizen might want this from him, whether from actual desire or as another test of loyalty. He didn't have to fake the tremor in his hands as he reached up to wrap them around Aizen's wrists in a reflection of their earlier positions, not pushing the man away, just holding them. Still, it was enough to make the fukutaichou pause, looking up at a pale, drawn face devoid of its usual smile.

"Is this your first time? Or is it just that you're opposed to having me as your partner? If you don't want to do this, you only need to tell me so."

"It… it ain't that I don't like ya. I'm just surprised. I don't think there's ever been anyone who wanted me like this. And I respect ya, fukutaichou, but I dunno if I'm capable of lovin' anyone, either. I toldja before, didn't I? I don't have a heart. So I don't want ya t' end up disappointed, or hurt."

Aizen laughed, a warm, soft sound, as his right hand shifted to rest on Gin's chest. "I don't think you could ever disappoint me, Gin. For now, I'll be satisfied with just your body while I try to capture your heart, if you'll give me the chance. I think you sell yourself short, though. You're quite beautiful, in an unconventional way; I can't be the first person who has ever wanted to do this to you."

He leaned down to press a soft kiss against Gin's lips, his tongue lightly probing. Hesitantly, the younger man released his hold on the other man, though his body remained taut with tension until Aizen pulled back, leaving a breath between their faces.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle… this time, at least. I'm glad that I'm your first, so I don't need to break any bad habits," Aizen murmured. The words sent a chill through Gin, and a dark smile spread over Aizen's face as he felt the brief tremor. When Gin didn't make any moves to resist or push him away, a flash of satisfaction appeared in Aizen's eyes. Slowly and deliberately, he continued to undress his subordinate, tracing the defined muscles under the thin, pale skin as they were exposed. Despite the harsh training he must have gone through to graduate from the academy in just one year, Gin's skin was remarkably smooth, with few traces of scars. But for each one that he did have, Aizen's fingers traced its edges, lingering for a long moment before continuing their work.

Finally, Gin was fully disrobed, and Aizen sat back to take all of him in. The younger man's body seemed tense enough to snap, unable to conceal his nervousness laced with a touch of fear. Again, Aizen smiled, his eyes fixed on Gin's face, as he grasped Gin's cock. The touch made the silver-haired man flinch, and a shudder ran through his body as Aizen began to stroke him into an erection.

"Relax. I want you to enjoy this," Aizen murmured, every inch the considerate lover. Gin's body was slow to respond to his ministrations, but it eventually did, and he flinched again as the older man lowered his mouth over his engorged head. The tension between them changed as Aizen's tongue swirled around him, his dexterous fingers playing along his shaft with an ever-changing pattern. He seemed determined to keep his subordinate on the very edge of ecstasy as ripples of pleasure spread through the young body.

"Aizen… Aizen-san… please…" Gin wasn't even sure what he was asking for, and just when it seemed that he would be pulled under and drowned, the other man swallowed him deeper, just before Gin's hips thrust upward and he emptied himself.

Once he'd fallen limp, Aizen pulled himself off, crawling back up the pale body to clamp his lips over Gin's in another kiss. A trickle of something warm, salty, and a little bitter slid into his mouth, and Gin's first instinct was to spit it out, except that Aizen had drawn back and placed a finger over the younger man's lips, a light touch that forbade him from opening his mouth until he had swallowed it.

"That's good, Gin," Aizen praised him softly. "And you taste exactly as I imagined. Go ahead and rest; we'll talk more in the morning."

When he moved to pull the covers off his futon and over the younger man, Gin sat up, protesting as he drew his discarded clothes around himself.

"I can't letcha do that, Aizen-fukutaichou. Ya need t' sleep too. I can just go back t' my room. 'sides, it prob'ly wouldn't be good for your reputation, if people found out."

"They won't find out, just like with the former third seat. It would please me if you stayed, Gin." The reminder of the incident that had brought them together made Gin fall silent. He still wanted to ask how the man had pulled off that cover-up, but he wasn't sure if Aizen would answer him truthfully at this point. Yes, it would probably be better to wait a little longer: with this change in their relationship, he had a chance to establish himself more firmly in Aizen's plans and gain his trust.

If Aizen knew what he was thinking, he gave no sign of it. Instead, apparently taking the silence for assent, he nodded toward his futon. "It'll be more comfortable there. Don't worry about me; there's still some work I need to finish up, but I'll join you later. I won't do anything else tonight, I promise."

Hesitantly, Gin obeyed, rearranging the blanket on the futon before lying down. He watched quietly as Aizen worked by the flickering light of the candle, listening to the soft scratch of his pen. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he drifted into sleep with the older man's profile burned into his eyes.

#bleach #fanfic #fan fic #Ichimaru Gin #gin ichimaru #gin #aizen sousuke #sosuke aizen #Aizen Sōsuke #aizen #mine

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xxmyhomexx · 3 years

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Hazbin Hotel: The Club

This is my first story based on a new series that caught my interest, Hazbin Hotel. I haven’t watched it all, but I like the idea of Charlie and Alastor. And this is AU, meaning it has no revelation to the series! Enjoy :)

~~~

Charlie’s black eyes danced uneasily through the waves of people on the dancefloor. It was another stressful day at the Hazbin Hotel, and after feeling overwhelmed with such somewhat of a poor start, Vaggie and Angel Dust decided she needed a night out in Pentagram City. Dark Abyss, a new club that just opened, was the place they settled on, even though Charlie was against it as it was the weekend and there were still many things to prepare for Hazbin.

Despite her protests, here she was now sitting at the bar watching Vaggie and Angel Dust swinging their arms and twirling their hips to the loud music the DJ played in his booth. She shifted one leg over the other and pulled the skirt of her black sleeveless cocktail dress down when it shifted upward, exposing her long white legs. She tucked a strand of hair that fell from her braided bun behind her ear, tapping one of her kitten heels nervously on the floor.

Why was this a good idea again, she asked herself mentally. Clubbing was not her scene, and although she always loved a good drink once in awhile, dancing and wasted brought a bad taste to her mouth. She remembered for her birthday, Vaggie and Angel surprised her with a day out at a casino, and the night ended with them forcing her arms over their shoulders so she could actually stand in her room at Hazbin.

“Ugh,” she shuttered. “Never again.”

“What can I get you, my beauty?” a black male spider-demon with four arms caught her attention. She saw two arms handing out drinks to other demons while the other two carried a pen and note pad.

“Uh...I’m sorry, I’m not in a drinking mood tonight. Perhaps something fruity and nonalcoholic?”

“One strawberry mocktail coming right up!” the spider demon smiled at her showing a row of red pointed fangs. “And uh, don’t worry about payment, pretty thing. It’s already on the house.”

“Really? That’s so sweet of you!” Charlie smiled.

“Sorry, honey, I wish it were me, but the owner actually beat me to it. He’s sitting right beside ya.”

Charlie tilted her head and swiveled in her seat, gasping and almost falling out when she noticed an all-too-familiar radio demon downing a shot of liquor beside her. Alastor, one of the most powerful demons in Hell, gifted her a sharp-tooth smile while adjusting his monocle above his right eye. Instead of a red suit and bowtie, Alastor opted for a more casual approach. Charlie’s red cheeks reddened deeper at his half-sleeve white collared shirt, tan khakis, and brown loafers. He didn’t remind her of the bartering demon who promised to help her with Hazbin, he appeared a total stranger.

His red eyes danced on her like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. His ears perked up and his antlers grew three inches in size as soon as Charlie spotted him. His radio-like laugh boomed in her ears as he rested his chin in his hand, tapping a finger against his cheek fondly.

“You and your friends enjoying your evening, my dear?”

“Alastor,” Charlie regained her composure. “You’re the owner?”

“A demon can enjoy pleasuring others without devouring souls, darling. And of course I am! Welcome to Dark Abyss, Charlotte Magne!”

He jumped out of his seat and wrapped one arm around her, addressing the business around them. Demons tapped glasses together, and Vaggie and Angel Dust were busy conversing with strangers. Angel Dust caught the attention of a random orange wolf-demon while Vaggie was laughing with two other girls. Charlie groaned as Alastor raised her fruity mocktail to her lips, urging her to have a drink.

“It’s ok, Charlie,” he tilted his head as the demon princess gulped. “Relax, my dear. You don’t have to be drunk to have fun, child.”

Charlie’s body went rigid in his arms as he leaned the glass closer to her mouth, parting her lips so she could take a few sips. The taste of strawberries was tarte and desiring on her tongue, running all the way down her throat when she took another swig. Alastor chuckled as he handed her her drink, his eyes observing her when she threw her head back to finish it all. Her curves danced out on her dress, and he could see her eyes were painted with light coats of mascara and winged eyeliner. Her face was round and poised with her hair back, a snicker leaving his throat.

“Wow, that was good!” Charlie laughed. “Thank you for the drink, Alastor.”

“No problem, darling,” Alastor scratched his chin. “Charlie...am I sensing...insecurity?”

Charlie’s smile faded at the word “insecurity.” What the hell did he mean by that? After opening Hazbin, her hard work wasn’t exactly met with praise and commercial success. Katy Killjoy humiliated her on the news after her song, and almost the entire town mocked her and her friends. It was almost enough to bring her spirits even lower, and without her parents, it felt she was alone if it hadn’t been for Vaggie and Angel Dust. The demon princess clutched her glass tighter in her hands, turning away from Alastor and frowning. Even when her mother couldn’t answer her phone, she always left her daughter voicemails of encouragement and lighthearted notes.

And on top of the stress, clubbing wasn’t really much of a scene for her. She thought a nice night in her room or making rounds in the hotel were another way of destressing, a huge contrast from Angel Dust and Vaggie’s idea of fun. Alastor sensed her sadness and harrumphed, tilting her chin with a lift of his index finger to direct her attention back to him. Charlie gasped when she was suddenly pinned between the bar and the radio demon, a demonic purr emanating from his lungs.

“Let loose, Charlie,” Alastor urged her. “Have fun.”

He took her hand and lead her through the crowd of dancers until they were in the middle of the floor. Charlie’s chest grew heavy and images played in her mind, imagining the distasteful looks and angry eyes of partygoers. They were judging her, no! She couldn’t live with the rejection. She shut her eyes tight until Alastor’s hands massaged her shoulders, his head burying into the crook of her neck until his breath was hot in her ear.

“Relax, sweetie,” he assured her. “They’re not looking at you.”

One arm wrapped around her and brought her closer, her chest pressing against her back and his hands sliding down her front until they were planted on her waist. He started rocking his hips back and forth, his hands urging her hips to move in motion. Charlie rested her head against his muscular chest and did just that, running her fingers up Alastor’s arms until her hands were wrapped around his neck. She closed her eyes and smiled as she grinded against him, bucking herself against him. Alastor groaned and twirled her around, sliding his hands down her back.

Charlie’s legs started to kick, and Alastor smiled at her. She ran her hands through her hair, untying her braided bun and letting her long locks fall over her shoulders. he threw her hair back as the music took to her soul, her hair fanning around her as Alastor backed up slowly to watch her dance.

Every shift of her leg, every twirl of her hips, his gaze was on her. Charlie’s skirt fanned before her as she spun on her toes, a huge smile on her lips. Alastor growled and grabbed her again, dipping her in his arms close to the floor before helping her up in a bow. One of Charlie’s legs wrapped around his waist, and Alastor leaned forward just inches from her face.

“Charlie,” his voice cut deep. “You’re beautiful.”

“Take me away, Alastor,” Charlie wrapped her arms around his neck to hoist herself up. “Just you and me.”

“What about your friends?” Alastor challenged. “You know how protective Vaggie is with you.”

“They can take care of themselves,” Charlie insisted. “I just want you.”

Alastor hissed and widened his already huge grin. “As the lady wishes.”

~~~

Alastor locked the door to the VIP room and flipped on the light, a huge couch surrounding two tables. Charlie watched as he sauntered to the main seat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, motioning the demon princess towards him. Charlie gulped and her legs began to shake when she started to amble towards him. Her weight caught up with her when she stopped in front of him, shifting nervously at what to do.

“You’re beautiful,” Alastor ran his fingers through her hair. “Even after seeing you on that picture show.”

“Ugh!” Charlie grunted when he flung her on her on the couch, straddling her like a cat. The cool black leather chilled her bare back, or maybe it was Alastor’s fingers sliding up her curves. Charlie gasped and arched her back when they rested on her chest. Alastor caught the front zipper between his thumb and index finger, jingling it for some time.

“Ah-ah, Charlie,” he eased her on the couch. “You’re mine. And tonight...I get to do whatever I want.”

Her eyes darted when he dragged it down slowly and painfully, exposing her lingerie. She sat up so she could help him out of it, sliding it to the floor until she felt bare. It killed Alastor to see her in all black, dangerously licking his lips. He knelt on the floor and unstrapped her kitten heels, tossing them to the side before climbing on top of her. Charlie groaned when he started to rid himself of his own clothing, first his shirt followed by his pants.

She had no idea that a radio demon could look this sexy. His six-pack and biceps stood out, and when he ran a hand through his hair, she was about done for. She suddenly felt exposed, almost covering herself before Alastor grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head making her yelp.

“No covering yourself!” he warned her, his eyes flashing dangerously. His glare rocked Charlie’s nerves, only turning her on more. Nodding, Charlie closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Alastor’s demands. He kissed her deeply, interlacing his fingers in between hers. He parted her lips with his tongue, exploring her mouth thoroughly and decisively. Charlie moaned when he pulled away and worked his lips across her jaw and down her throat.

“Alastor!” she gasped. He started to kiss his way down her ridgeline, hands kneading at every single sensitive area he could find. His fingers payed extra special attention, amused at hearing her yelps and whimpers. After he was finished, he kissed his way down her navel.

“Oh no!” Charlie gasped, arching her back. This torture was doing it in for her, and she just wanted him now. She rolled her hips to his, silently begging him to end his reign of terror. Alastor ignored her quiet please as he pecked at her ribs and trailed his teeth across each ridge, causing the princess to grate her teeth.

“You’re quite sensitive here, aren’t you?” Alastor whispered.

“Alastor...p-please...” Charlie begged.

“Please what, princess?”

“Ugh...um...I...”

“Sssshhh,” Alastor caressed her lips with the tip of his finger and smiled. “Good girl.”

He closed the distance between them and that was it. Soon, Alastor collapsed on top of her, his chest lowering and rising. He cradled Charlie in his arms, both exhausted but happy in their blissful moment.

“You’re mine now, Charlotte Magne,” Alastor cupped her face and smiled kindly. “You beautiful woman.”

“I love you, Alastor.”

“Not as much as I you, princess.”

Charlie kissed him and her fate was sealed.

#hazbin hotel #charlie magne #alastor #charlastor

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lostinthewiind · 4 years

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hey can you please do a bill guarnere fic where its after the war and he is meeting your family for the first time. he is nervous but your young sister thinks his leg is the coolest thing ever and it makes him a bit emotional bc people usually treat it with sympathy or disdain so to see her happy about it gets to him. thank youu 💖

This is SUCH A CUTE request and honestly, with this quarantine bullshit right now, I think we could all use a slight pick-me-up. This might be a tad short, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

TAG LIST: @gottapenny @warmommy @scissorsfordoc @david-weepster@wexhappyxfew @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @maiden-of-gondor @whoabrekker @thefricklefracklesin @junojelli @bandofgays @itisjustmethistime @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz @dumpofdumblings @inglourious-imagines @misspiggyfeels

Child-Like Wonder

Adjusting the front of your sweater and flattening out the non-existent wrinkles, you flash a quick smile toward Bill. “Ready?” you asked.

Bill smiled nervously and nodded. “Yeah, I think so,” he responded.

“They’re gonna love you.” you reached forward and rang the doorbell. “I promise.”

“I hope so.” Bill swallowed hard.

There were a few moments of silence following the doorbell, and when you heard footsteps approaching the front door, you took Bill’s hand in yours and squeezed tight, reassuring him that everything would be okay.

When you first brought up wanting to introduce Bill to your parents, he sort of tip-toed around the issue, never flat out stating that he didn’t think it was a good idea, but also never providing a solid answer one way or the other. When you finally pressed him on the issue, he admitted his worries about what your parents and family would think about him, and subsequently, his disability.

It broke your heart to see the love of your life so self-conscious about a physical feature of himself that he couldn’t change—and that brought him so much unease. You had known Bill with two legs and with only one, and you loved him just the same, and you were positive your family would as well.

When he finally agreed to meet your family, you were over the moon but focused hard on containing your excitement and keeping the situation as casual as possible.

When the front door swung open and your mom pulled you in for a hug, you could sense Bill’s nerves radiating off of him. “Oh, Y/N, it’s so good to see you again.” your mom pulled back from the hug and immediately threw her arms around Bill, welcoming him into the family without hesitation. “And you must be Bill! We’ve heard so much about you.”

Bill’s entire body tensed up, but he forced a smile and returned the hug anyway. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Oh, please, call me Louise.” your mother told him as she ushered the both of you into the house. “Please, make yourself at home. Can I get you two anything to drink?”

“Water, please,” you said, and Bill nodded in agreement.

Your mother smiled sweetly. “Two glasses of water coming right up. Y/N, why don’t you give Bill a tour of the house?”

“Sure.” you nodded, and after hanging up your jacket, you showed Bill around the first story of your small family home. When you reached the stairs that led up to the second story, you saw Bill’s face flush with concern. He was usually too proud to admit it, but he still had trouble with stairs and often avoided them at all costs.

“You don’t want to go up there anyway,” you told him. “Just a dark hallway, a messy bathroom, and my childhood bedroom that I probably wasn’t going to show you anyway.”

Bill chuckled. “Pink walls and posters of boys everywhere?”

You smirked. “More like piles of old clothes and books scattered everywhere.”

“Now that you mention it, that sounds more like you.”

“Yeah.” you laughed. “Come on, let’s head into the living room. I’m sure my dad and sister will emerge from the woodwork soon enough.”

Leading Bill into the small living room, you took a seat on the couch seconds before your mother walked in with two glasses of water on a tray and a platter of cheese and crackers. “Here we are.” your mother set the trays down. “Bill, honey, can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you.” Bill reached for his glass of water.

Before long, your father came in from the garage and wiped the grease from his hands from working on his old, beaten-up car before shaking Bill’s hand. “You’ve got a firm handshake, son.” your father commented. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Bill was starting to relax a little more, and as the afternoon progressed and Bill and your parents got a chance to get to know each other, the tension in the room faded away and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. This picture right here—Bill and your parents chatting and laughing together—was exactly what you had imagined and hoped for.

Hearing a series of loud stomps, you turned toward the stairs just as your younger sister came barreling into the living room, a doll in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. Completely oblivious to Bill’s presence, she rushed over to your mother and began showing off her newest drawing.

When she looked up at spotted Bill, however, she froze and stepped behind the chair your mother was sitting in. “Who’s that?” she whispered, but it was still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“This is my friend, Bill,” you told her. “Do you remember when I told you about him?”

Your sister shook her head. “No.”

“Well, why don’t you come over and meet him?” you waved her over. “He’s very nice and I don’t think he bites, do you, Bill?”

“Only sometimes.” Bill smiled. “But today’s Wednesday, so you’re in luck because I don’t bite on Wednesdays.”

You giggled. Bill had always claimed to be great with children because of all of the siblings he had grown up with, but this was the first time you were seeing him in action.

Your sister smiled a little and slowly crossed the living room, coming to a stop beside you. “Bill, this is my sister, Rosie. Rosie, this is my friend, Bill.” you introduced the two.

“Hi, Rosie.” Bill stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet ya.”

“Hello.” Rosie returned the gesture, but as her eyes drifted down Bill’s leg, her face lit up. “Whoa!” she exclaimed, and before anyone could stop her, she had pulled up Bill’s pant leg and exposed his prosthetic leg.

“Rosie!” you pulled your sister back as Bill pushed his pant leg back down, his face turning red from embarrassment. “Rosie, we don’t touch people without asking first,” you told her. “Say sorry.”

Slightly taken aback, Rosie frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said to Bill. Then, slowly, she leaned in. “Are you a robot?” she whispered. “I think robots are really cool.”

Bill couldn’t help but crack a smile. “No, I’m not a robot,” he answered, the normal colour slowly returning to his flesh.

“Really?” Rosie cocked her head. “Then how come you have a robot leg?”

“Rosie, I don’t think Bill wants to talk about his leg right now.” you tried to avoid an awkward or uncomfortable situation, but Bill waved you off.

“No, it’s okay,” Bill assured you before looking down at your sister. “I lost my leg in an accident, so now I have a fake one.”

Rosie giggled, her eyes wide with wonder. “Whoa, that’s so cool! One time I fell off my bike and hurt my leg, but I got to keep it still.” she plopped down on the couch next to Bill and wiggled her legs. “See?”

“I do see.” Bill nodded. “That’s good.”

“I wish I had a friend with a cool leg.” Rosie looked up at you.

You smiled. “Well, I think if you ask nicely, Bill will be your friend, too.”

Turning to Bill, Rosie smiled wide. “Do you want to be best friends?”

“Of course, I do,” Bill replied, and as he looked at you, the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face, your heart felt completely full for the first time in a long time.

‘I love you’ you mouthed to him.

‘I love you, too.' he mouthed back.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #band of brothers fanfiction #bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #one shot #band of brother one shot #fluff #LostInTheWind #hbo war

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callme--starchild · 4 years

Text

Sleeping Agent

Crossing the door of the manor, Donald rubbed his temples trying to ignore the back pain and migraine that were starting to increase, feeling his wings burn. He was sure he had lost a few layers, and though he had made sure to shower properly on the return jet, he was sure to continue to suck in the mix of odors that were sweat, tobacco and leather from his last mission well above the excess second-hand cologne that had been oversprayed.

Or maybe those scents were still permeated in his nostrils and he was being very dramatic, because he had inhaled them when he was wearing his tuxedo, tuxedo that he now kept in a briefcase in the trunk of his minivan, and he was completely sure that the signs of Kay K's perfume was still present on his shirt from the moment she'd hugged him when he said goodbye to her.

Finally stopping the car, and feeling full in the familiar environment that was the mansion, he allowed the ghost of a smile to appear on his face. He could perceive the lights on inside, indicating that the family had already returned from the recent adventure.

He could already hear his sister's talk about the temple they had visited and the treasure she had found, even how the children, being the incredible preteens they were, had favored the search. He could already hear Huey talk about the discoveries he had added — that even though he didn't understand it was worth it to see his nephew smile. He could already hear Dewey and Webby bragging about the amazing — and dangerous — maneuvers they had performed. And he certainly could hear Louie stammering about the treasure they would now have found, the value it might have had it not been for Scrooge keeping everything in his money bin.

Surely they would add one more pang to his headache, but that was the charm of his family and he doubted he could trade it for all the treasures in the world.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he got out of the vehicle turning the key between his fingers, inhaling the warm aroma of home. Until he finally chose to crack his back, growling under his breath at the sound of his bones snapping.

"Not bad for a sleeper agent," he dared to murmur cautiously, grinning as he felt his heavy lids. And is that to have dealt with life-threatening missions, the Agency had commissioned a walk in the park; that it had been as exhausting as an old mission— wow, he hadn't realized how much he missed feeling this adrenaline.

Which, by the way, was not easy to hide during adventures. Fortunately his yearning to protect from protecting triplets — and Webby — was stronger.

"I'm sure Kay K thinks the same thing..." He sighed happily, remembering the sparkle in the agent's expression when they made eye contact, feeling the same haze in his gaze before Head H's attentive gaze, "we've been apart for so long, I have a lot to tell her."

But now, Donald thought allowing a yawn to escape his beak, it was time to rest. Yes, he had missed being the agent DoubleDuck, but his favorite part of the business was finishing the mission, going back to being Donald Duck, taking a relaxing warm shower, and sleeping; just him, his hammock, and his cozy houseboat, waiting for him with its lights on—

Wait a minute. He stopped abruptly, catching the key before it could escape his grasp. Though he used to be confused on some occasions, he was sure that he had kept the place in darkness at the time he was called, because the sun had not even set when it was solicited by The Agency, and his nephews would have called him if needed.

Unless ... no, no. He shook his head. Perhaps DoubleDuck's adrenaline was still flowing through his veins, because it was practically impossible for The Organization to be. The place would be practically a bigger mess than usual and, modesty aside, he was cautious enough to keep his double life apart — that is, ever since he accidentally involved Daisy in it.

"You're overreacting, Donald," he said to himself, taking a deep breath to slow his pulse and let out a maniacal laugh, mocking himself, "surely it's Dells trying to use your stuff again."

Without realizing it, his steps had become more distant and hesitant. He was trying to think of his sister snooping in the boat one more time, or the triplets preparing to play a prank on him. His paranoia was bringing out the worst in him, he thought as she walked across the gangplank. The thrill of being the agent was over and it was time to go back to being the boring, simple Donald F. Duck, he was trying to remember himself.

"You certainly know how to hide better after so many years, DD" or maybe not. Kay K sat on his worn sofa, casually sipping from a recyclable cup. Her short hair was tied up in a yellow headband and she was wearing a new change of clothes.

In front of her, a paper bag with a dessert logo rested on the coffee table. Well, he couldn't say he was surprised.

"How did you get inside?" For a moment his voice came out rougher than normal, and clearing his throat he headed for the kitchen. He definitely needed a gallon of water after that self-infused death scare, feeling his rapid pulse.

"You hide your spare keys in very typical places. You must be cautious about it." Still, she couldn't help but smile slyly, watching her partner pour himself a glass, crossing both legs in an absentminded mannerism.

If the agent was able to sense Donald's stench, she said nothing. She must assume that he was already aware of that. And definitely, the duck was thankful for that; he had enough exhaustion to bear himself with to tolerate some sarcastic behavior from his fellow agent.

"I want my family to know that they can always count on me, or that they can easily find me if they need it." What he knew was a vile lie, his presence pushed aside since Della had returned. At least it didn't sound as bad as it was on his mind, and while Kay K wasn't as credulous — she was one of the best at the agency for a reason after all, he preferred to have the benefit of the doubt about what his relationship with his family was like.

The glitter in his gaze had dimmed for a moment, and Arianne smiled empathetically. Donald was a lousy liar, but there was no doubt that he had a great heart.

"You are definitely still the same sensitive man who once entered the Agency not knowing how he entered in the first place" and judging by her smile, Donald did not feel that for once Kay K was trying to play with him, putting her vase of coffee on the coffee table, next to another closed disposable cup. "But as much as I would have liked, I didn't come here to hang out."

She tried not to laugh when her partner growled under his breath, she was as unhappy as he was. Donald's feathers had been a mess, practically since they returned to Duckburg, and that made her companion's dark circles more noticeable. At least his shirt didn't have as many wrinkles as she expected and it was neat, she could give him credit for it.

"I'm not on another mission right now, Kay K, I'm exhausted," and the agent knew he was serious, her friend had never had filters with her... outside of missions. In short, one of the benefits of being able to understand Donald Duck when you enter his social circle.

Besides, she was sure that Donald's yawn would have been able to wake up all the people who slept in the mansion if it had been stronger. Yes, he was definitely still the same man after years, and she couldn't help but be touched by that; it was as if time had never passed between them, both being aware of all the changes that had occurred in the life of the other.

It was comforting to Donald, in a way.

"Easy, super agent, this mission is more discreet, this organization is being quieter than it seems."

Well, at least they don't stand out as much unlike The Organization. At least he could rest long enough before the Agency called him to take care of it alongside Kay K, a piece of cake. Nothing he hadn't faced before...

"Have you heard of FOWL?"

Or not?

"Once?" Donald wasn't sure, but he was too exhausted to even try to remember. "I mean, I wasn't born yesterday." He smiled nervously, leaning his elbows against the sink. He was aware that he was not the only agent in the family, and his work as Paperinik had allowed him to become friends with entities that were literally out of this world, but he could not expose such information when he did not fully know the effect that this could have. Jargon of the work "but I thought SHUSH are the ones who primarily take care of them."

"They do, but we can't sit idly by until FOWL decides to act..." Ironically, Kay K crossed her arms, letting the palms of both hands rub against the leather of her jacket despite the scant cold. "Behind the back of the boss I checked cameras..."

Well, that did sound like something Kay K would do. It was not the first time he had learned of the agent's unorthodox methods on and off missions, and it certainly would not be the last.

"... How about they have the fixed point in your family?" Donald's shoulders stiffened, feeling the intense lump that had formed in his throat. From afar Arianne showed him the screen of her cell phone, where a video was played.

In it were frames, each one or several members of his family — including him — on certain adventures. The disturbing thing is that they included moments from his youth with Della, as well as with Panchito and José during their visits to the mansion.

He had been used to all manner of oddities since he crossed the porch of the mansion holding his sister's hand. Damn, a few months ago he had rediscovered alien life, on the moon of all places. Knowing that — very literally — each of his steps was watched from day to day, yet it was extremely chilling.

"Certa— certainly I wouldn't be surprised," he tried to assure, but the doubt in his voice was evident. And Arianne knew it was easy to say as a nephew of an infamous adventurer; but this was not part of what Donald was used to, and added to the mental and physical exhaustion, the agent could think about how stressful this could be.

"Sorry, I should have waited until tomorrow to say it" at least she had the decency to admit it, "but you are my friend, and since this involves you I want you to be cautious."

A worried glow stood out in Kay K's gaze, but despite the smallest duck's tired sigh a bitter smile formed on his face, silently taking his cup and removing the lid to drink the black coffee in his thoughts.

"Okay, just let me get ready enough, then we'll talk," he claimed, wiping the traces of coffee on his beak. At least, the strong taste could keep him awake long enough "but try to go unnoticed, my niblings are too perceptive and curious for my taste."

A grimace had formed on his face as he went to who-knows-where, and the woman couldn't help but snort. Boy, was Donald Duck's family.

But it seemed that an agent's job never ended. Much less for a sleeping agent.

#el's fanfiction #ducktales #ducktales 17 #doubleduck #double duck #donald duck #kay k #pk references #fowl is mentioned #this was written before i knew she betrayed him again #idk where to read the new issues #so yeah #lmao

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