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mokkadere · 2 months ago

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❝ Those Silken Strings ❞ | Chapter One

a/n: there aren't enough dollmaker stories out there so I decided to take matters into my own hands. enjoy~

synopsis: yandere!dollmaker makes a living doll to fill the void left in his life after his darling's death. that way, they can be together forever ‹𝟥

this story contains the following themes: death, isolation, manipulation, psychological distress, obsession, control, implied emotional abuse

word count: 5k

As the seasons quietly changed from summer to fall, time marched on tirelessly, with no pity for those who thought they could elude the mandatory participation of life. Yet tucked away in a small house just outside a village too insignificant to be granted life’s first gift - a name, in a world defined by shelves lined with fabric, wood, paint, and the various tools needed for doll-making, Erin believed he’d succeeded in building his escapist reality.

The quiet ticking of the wall clock had turned into white noise a long time ago, just another kind of silence adding to the mute soundtrack that accompanied his daily work. Sunsets merely meant that he had to continue by candlelight, and the sunrise simply meant that, after all those sleepless hours, his eyes had to slowly adjust to the daylight breaking in.

How could he peel his attention off what mattered just to sacrifice it for sleep? How could he stop and pay any mind to the wilting flowers that had once been in full bloom because of her constant care, to the now gone animals that had once happily come to her for food, to the currently rotting wooden swing that had once gently swayed in the wind while she read and basked in the sun?

Although she’d been by no means one to halt her excitingly dynamic life, she had loved to jokingly echo Erin’s genuine advice to „stop and smell the roses.“ But he couldn’t, not anymore. The roses had been dead since the day he got rid of them to bury her underneath, her final resting place now replacing the roots of her beloved flowerbeds. Back then, she had nurtured them for him to feel inspired by, as she knew he loved the beautiful things in life - the nature, the animals, simply life by itself in all of its simplicity. But it wasn’t like he needed any extra inspiration to ignite his creativity; she had been his muse, not this fragile idyllic backdrop she'd created for him that would now fade into the background as it got ensnared by kudzu.

His hands worked methodically as he painted the final touches of his life project's face with forced steadiness. Doll-making was his calling, which was why he couldn’t help but pour his entire being into each doll time and time again. He needed them to be exactly perfect for the little girls who would eventually hold and fill their childhood days with them. Dolls were a beautiful part of the permanence that lined one’s childhood days. They didn’t age, didn’t die, didn’t want to transcend their purpose; they simply stayed by your side and loyally accompanied you through the countless narratives you wanted to experience with them as your blissful days of carefree wonder stretched on.

Grace used to be his doll. But unlike his actual dolls, she couldn’t sit still for more than a minute, with the only exception being her reading time, her rare sleeping time, and the moments that she spent holding Erin tightly well into the night, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear that lulled him into sleep. He loved her vitality, as in his eyes, that was just her way of permanence - always demanding novel things from life was just as much of a constant as his lack of demand for anything new. She added dynamic into his static life in a way that felt, admittedly, invigorating. He wasn’t bored with his life, far from it. He loved the stability and the predictability of it all, but the way she’d encouraged him to at least vary his trusted routine just a tiny bit filled him with the sort of satisfaction one might feel after realising they’ve just truly experienced life.

She made him feel complete, providing him with just the right amount of change that complemented the permanence he cherished.

Erin smiled as he observed his finalised creation, casting his gentlest look - one that was only reserved for his Grace. He let his hand graze against her cold porcelain cheeks before running his hand through the artificial strands he’d spent hours styling into an intricate updo. „You are so beautiful…“ he murmured to himself, letting out a shaky exhale as he delicately brushed away a few stray locks away from her flawless face, painfully careful not to disturb the fragile perfection he’d managed to replicate.

„Please, just wake up for me again…“

His trembling fingers, itching to have someone to hold and caress, no longer forced themselves to keep still when he reached out to the back of her neck with a bated breath. His heart hammered hard against his chest both in expectation and in anxiety. He begged for her to work, for her to finally be reunited with him again as she should - with all her constant moving about, all her joie-de-vivre and boundless love for him. Erin often shivered, him being naturally nervous like that, but for once, those electrifying jolts of shivers overran his body for a reason different from his crippling social anxiety. The thought of finally reclaiming the part of himself that he had lost that day fuelled him with this overpowering excitement that almost felt intoxicating. Finally, he pressed the small button at the back of her neck before stepping away, readying himself to welcome his Grace home, just like in old times. This expedition she’d been on had been two years too long, but just like always, no matter how much she strayed, she always returned to his arms.

Just seconds later, his creation drew her first breath. Her chest rose and fell on its own as her eyes fluttered open, revealing those verdant orbs he used to lose himself in. The world slowly revealed itself to her in its entirety as her painted eyes, at first pinned on the peeling ceiling, wandered on their own accord to the shelves lining the walls and carefully registering every wondrous object she saw until her gaze finally fell on Erin. Her lips were ever so slightly agape, mirroring her childlike wonder stemming from all the things that she was perceiving for the first time.

„Welcome home, Grace,“ Erin whispered, daring to break the silence. He really wanted to upkeep the fragility of this intimate moment, to let his beloved experience her birth in serene tranquility, but he couldn’t help himself. He longed to hear her talk. He would’ve forgotten her melodic voice a long time ago if it weren’t for those tapes that he had of her exclaiming, „Stop recording me, Erin!“ through giggles. But that voice had been confined to just those four words… and now he could have her say more things to him, different things. „Please say something, Grace…“ The doll blinked at him before moving her hand ever-so-slightly towards him. She hesitated as if he would disappear if she dared to move too suddenly, which was ironic since she was the one who always disappeared. He always stayed.

When her small, lifeless fingers touched his cheek and poked it for good measure, he allowed himself to needily lean into her touch, earning himself a small exclaim from his doll. „W-Who… who are you?“ She stammered, looking at him with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Erin’s heart melted at the sound of her voice. Finally, oh god, finally, a new sound permeated his silence. That mute soundtrack that used to accompany his last two years came to a staggering halt at last. „I’m Erin.“, he replied simply as his hand, still trembling, took hold of hers. Her eyes followed his every move. „And you’re Grace.“

The doll tilted her head slightly, and Erin couldn’t help but feel disappointed when she started pulling her hand away from his, once again focusing on his face, poking at him as if she wasn’t quite sure if he was real. Erin let her patiently explore, understanding that everything was thrillingly unfamiliar to her.

He’d programmed her in a way that would leave her as clueless as a child, allowing him to teach her about the world himself. It was fitting, really, as Grace used to harbour this insatiable childlike curiosity, causing her to always run around and try out as much as she could, to take on the world and all it had to offer. Needless to say, that hunger to feel alive sometimes led her to attempt some reckless things, which, more often than not, earned her a stern scolding from Erin.

Recognising that he had the chance to give Grace the world himself, he wanted to make it count. This time, he wanted her to see everything his way while keeping her in the safety of his world. He’ll spoon-feed her the necessary knowledge and keep away any bad thoughts that could bring her harm. He’ll protect her in a way that he was never able to before. With her being too wild - too uncontainable, Erin always had a hard time reasoning with her, no matter how much he tried to argue in her interest. Grace just loved her freedom too much, and knowing that she had the option to explore the world drove her to pursue that very thing. But this doll version of her didn’t have to know that exploring the outside world was an option - simply because it wasn’t. She was his creation, and therefore, she was his to hold, his to love, and his to limit however he wanted - all in their shared interest, of course.

The doll slowly tried to sit up on the work table, weakly struggling against the leather straps that he had put around her small frame to prevent her from somehow sliding off the work table and getting damaged before he had the chance to turn her on. „There you go, darling.“ Erin carefully released Grace from her shackles, formally letting her step into the small cocoon that she’ll be inhabiting with him and him only for the rest of their blissful time together.

„W-Where… are we? Where is this?“ she asked, still unsure of herself or any of the things happening around her.

„This is my workshop. It''s part of your new home, Grace. Would you like to explore it?“ The doll nodded shyly, making Erin’s chest swell with warmth at how adorably she acted. She was just like his love, so adorably shy sometimes, it hurt. He clutched his heart, feeling this warmth transform into a painful hurt that intensified the more he looked at his creation and the way she nervously shifted about, bursting with energy within her that she desperately needed to exhaust. He loved it; she was already healing him.

Erin’s gaze was of such intensity that Grace felt mildly unsettled by it. This desperate love he was radiating was something she couldn’t quite comprehend, and that inevitably scared her. Humans, too, were afraid of what they didn’t understand, so it was natural she’d feel the same. After all, Erin had put more than his entire being into this project just to make her as human as possible. But his lovesickness acted more like a deterrent than like an incentive. Somehow, this person in front of her, her creator… he didn’t feel safe in her eyes. She stared at him as her gaze searched his for something that could help the code running in her computer of a brain determine if he was good or not.

„Come here,“ he coaxed, pulling her towards him with tender touches at the lack of a reaction from her. It was fine if she acted stunned or slow in the beginning. She was brand new, and she didn’t understand how to act. He’ll teach her everything soon enough. Right now, he just revelled in the feeling of this intimate togetherness he had the honour of experiencing with her. While the urge to simply embrace Grace as tightly as he could exponentially increased, yearning to unite their bodies as one just like he used to in the past, he could tell by her lingering hesitance that the miniature gears in her mind were still turning.

The thought of his own doll having to assess him and not trusting him in a heartbeat wounded him slightly. Hadn’t he been nothing but sweet and patient towards her? He didn’t understand. But once again, he brushed it off, accounting it to her not knowing much about anything yet. Please let me in, Grace… I need you so badly.

As Erin lightly pulled Grace along, she stumbled and tripped. He wasn’t too surprised, however, as mild clumsiness was to be expected. She was quite literally taking her first steps in this world, after all, plus her joints were new and stiff. „Careful now, you might trip in the beginning, so take it slow, love. You wouldn’t want to end up hurting yourself, now, would you?“

At that, the doll went wide-eyed and hurried to wrap one hand tightly around the fabric of his shirt and the other around his hand before she took her first steps. They were a bit awkward and slow and not at all resemblant of the grace that her name implied, but Erin knew that that was going to change soon.

However, seeing that walking wasn’t scary at all, Grace soon made her first attempt at peeling off of his protective hold and eagerly went to explore on her own, stumbling from one corner to the other. Erin’s smile faltered. While her actions seemed innocent enough, the anxious voices that had begun to inhabit Erin’s mind since Grace’s loss screamed at him to hold her. She shouldn’t try to distance herself, she was his, and she was to be by his side.

„Where are you going, love?“ he asked as he hurried to follow her, but his question fell on deaf ears, the doll too engrossed in this new reality she was finally getting to be privy to.

Clueless to Erin’s rising anxiety, Grace slowly let her fingers trace all sorts of jars that were on display on the workshop’s shelves, eager to feel any and every new texture at every opportunity that presented itself. Her eyes flittered over the dozens of paint bottles as she quietly mumbled words of amazement to herself before finally working up the courage to raise her voice ever so slightly and ask:

„W-What… is all this?“ she pointed at the paint like a child. As she came to a halt next to his paint shelf, he too did, following her like a shadow.

„Oh, it’s just paint, love. I use it to draw the faces of my dolls. In fact, I drew your face with it too.“

„My face too? Can I see?“ she asked, excited at the prospect of seeing herself.

At that, Erin chuckled, gladly handing her a small pocket mirror. Grace looked at herself with utter awe, poking and prodding at her face, her fingers tracing over the softness of her rosy cheeks and her plump, red lips. She didn’t quite notice when Erin moved behind her to pull her back flush against his chest.

„You’re beautiful, darling. Do you like yourself?“ he purred in her ear, wanting to coax some praise out of her. He just wanted to hear her talk and talk… praising him, saying that she wanted him, anything to satisfy his love-deprived heart. Say something, Grace. Anything. I haven’t heard your sweet voice in so long. It’s making me insane.

He himself just wanted to praise her for her existence. The need to drown her with all this pent-up affection made his entire body twitch with what Erin believed to be the same kind of energy that drove his original Grace to jump from one adventure to the next. He couldn’t even wait for the doll’s response. Instead, he buried his head in her hair, nuzzling her, desperate to get high on her delicious scent. He’d worked so hard to replicate it.

„I d-do. Thank you… for making me.“ she stumbled over her words, finally throwing him a small crumb. When you’ve been so numb from starvation, even the smallest crumbs can re-ignite this desperate greed for satiation.

Her voice was lined with hesitance, growing smaller by the second at his increasing affection. To her de-facto newborn mind, his yearning was nothing but an overwhelming input that didn’t quite match any of the few commands he’d programmed into her code. She stiffened further at his advances, trying to pull away once more, as her program urged her to leave this uncertain situation and seek safety.

But Erin couldn’t have that, the lovesick expression morphing into one of betrayal and hurt. „Don’t…“ Erin breathed out - a desperate plea. „Please.“ His grip tightened around her, his arms moving away from her waist and instead snaking over her arms, rendering her helplessly trapped in what should’ve been an innocent hug. „Stay close, Grace. You mean so much to me, you have no idea. I’ve been waiting to hold you for so long. It used to be so lonely without you. Please stay...“

Grace didn’t dare to even attempt to push him away. „I’m confused…“ she admitted, her voice laced with the sort of vulnerability that filled Erin with a need to protect her. Instinctively, his hands sprung into action, slowly caressing the top of her head.

„What’s making you feel confused, love?“

„I don’t understand what you’re doing…“ Confessing that instigated a sense of what one would call fear within her binary mind. She didn’t quite understand this pang of pain in her chest, but something told her that she'd just let this man down. „Why are you so close? Aren’t we strangers to each other?“

That feeling of hers was instantly validated by the way Erin paused his affections to pull away and look at her. „What do you mean ‚strangers‘, Grace? I made you. I created you,“ he pressed his lips into a thin line as his eyes searched hers for any semblance of deception. Surely, that’s not what you’re truly thinking.

„B-But I don’t know who you are.“, Grace replied. And she didn’t want to upset him; she just needed to be honest with him. Everyone deserved honesty. Yet what she clearly couldn’t understand was that Erin wasn’t in the right headspace to appreciate her honesty. Her entire existence was just him lying to himself that he could simply live on with his deceased love.

He tried to gather himself as best as he could.

„That’s okay.“, he assured her with forced gentleness when it was anything but okay. „I know who you are. And soon enough, you’ll learn to know me too.“ As he tried to ignore this gaping hole of momentary clarity aching in his chest, he went on in a different direction. „Didn’t you want to explore a little? ...If you’d like, you could. Just be careful. My workshop is filled with all sorts of tools that you could end up hurting yourself with, so please don’t try to touch everything and don’t stray too far. Alright?“ He gave her a small smile to silently encourage her.

Grace’s gaze fell as guilt washed over her before she reluctantly went on to scan the room for anything to interact with, trying to look past this first dent in their relationship. With newfound interest, she shifted towards the window. This silvery orb in the sky left her in awe with the way it plunged the outside landscape into soft light. Seeing how captivated Grace was by such a simple thing he smiled softly.

„Pretty, isn’t it? It’s the moon. It’s something that you’ll often see in the sky.“

Grace nodded with amazement. „I like how it plunges the world in this silvery glow… It’s so serene.“

„I know.“ His Grace had always been a night person. She came to life when the rest of the world slept, just like the moon. Perhaps she truly lives on in this doll…

„Its light is so soft. I want to feel it—“ If she were alive, her hands would’ve left handprints all over the window with the way she tried to touch the moon. „Everything looks like a painting… I wish I could be a part of it…“

„I know.“, he repeats once more, casting her with a soft gaze. For a second, he contemplated opening the window for her so that she could feel the chilly night air and the soft moonlight for herself, but that thought quickly died.

„Maybe tomorrow, alright?“

He felt a pang of pain in his chest at the sight of her eyes beginning to sparkle in glee at the promise. Technically, he didn’t promise, but she thought he did, and now he was forced to go through with it. He sighed.

And so, for tonight, Grace directed her full attention to the rest of the workshop, slowly picking up the pace at which she got to know this odd new place. She didn’t really heed his early warning not to touch his tools, eagerly darting from one corner to the other to see and feel and maybe even taste (although Erin stopped her before she tried to taste the paint) everything there was to see, feel, and taste. She pricked her fingers and cut herself at least six times until it stuck that, yes, sharp objects indeed hurt if you play with them.

„Be careful—,“ Erin cautioned every time he saw her aiming to poke at something she shouldn’t and inevitably squeaking from the superficial pain. In the end, Erin just grabbed her by the hand - that was one less hand to worry about.

„No— I was just looking!“ Grace whined as he pulled her away from his sewing machine as she was seconds away from sewing a thread into her hand.

„You weren’t, don’t pretend now,“ Erin scolded with a firm yet gentle tone. „Here, hold onto me. I can show you things that feel nice to the touch and are safe.“ With excitement of his own, he went on to show her his collection of shimmering, expensive fabrics that he used to make the clothing for his dolls. Inside a large wooden closet, he stored smooth, luxurious silk, soft velvet, crinkly cheviot, and supple linen - it was a sensation galore for his doll that craved to interact with her surroundings.

He couldn’t help but feel emotional as he saw her innocent marvel at the ornate beauty of the fabrics and her bubbling enthusiasm for his craft. It’s just like old times, it’s finally like before, Erin thought to himself. He wanted to cry of relief right then and there.

The more Grace interacted with her surroundings, the more her fear and apprehension began to dissipate. It was fun to run around and be shown all these unknown tools. It was fun to have someone show her around, even if that someone radiated this odd energy. She didn’t mind it as much anymore. Sure, Erin still made her feel strange, but he didn’t try to hurt her, he seemed to care for her.

The more he showed her care and mildness, the more she naively believed that he was a safe human, just one with a few quirks. At the end of the day, he still was her creator, the person who made her from nothing...

Her eyes flickered over all the lifeless dolls displayed in crystal vitrines. She must’ve been just like them, but he had gifted her a life, an option to exist with him and she couldn’t help but feel grateful for that blessing.

„Does it hurt?“ Erin asked as he examined Grace’s dislocated hand. It was bent at an unnatural angle, with the joint sticking out in a way that made Erin wince. These past few days, she had been taking full advantage of the freedom Erin had granted her within the bounds of his workshop and she was already in need of repair.

„No… I don’t think so. It felt odd. Like something inside me was wrong for a moment.“ She kicked her legs impatiently. „Can I move now, Erin?“

„Just a second, don’t fidget too much.“ With studied precision, Erin fixed her hand within minutes. „Alright, you. You’re good to go now… how did this even happen?“ Grace shrugged. She was indifferent to her own pain. It’s not like she felt anything. Her code told her to react accordingly whenever she did something to her body that went against what Erin had originally defined as her ‚natural construction’.

„I wanted to see how far I can bend my hand. It’s pretty far. Very flexible.“

„How did you even get to that idea— okay, no, never mind.“, Erin sighed as he put his tools back where they belonged. These days, he couldn’t allow any type of disarray in his workshop. Not before Grace’s phase of needing to touch everything was over. „Just be careful.“, he urged as he caressed her cheek lovingly, his eyes searching hers. „You could hurt yourself badly. You still don’t know the limits of your own body.“

„But that’s exactly why I need to figure out what they are.“, she argued stubbornly, mirroring the original perfectly. „It’s testing new things. Seeing how far I can bend, or seeing how close is too close to the fireplace—“

„Please don’t remind me of that. You gave me a heart attack…“

Grace’s enthusiasm dulled at that. „I’m sorry.“, she mumbled. „It’s just that something deep inside me tells me to go and try everything out, even if it could be dangerous.“ She didn’t want to worry him; it’s just that she wanted to learn! She wanted to know her limits, and she wanted to know how things around her worked. And it’s not like she was fragile. She was strong!

Erin had gifted his doll Grace’s fierce need for independence and love for exploration in the hopes of replicating her personality exactly, but now he was beginning to fear he’d done too good of a job. She was so innocent, unperturbed of the pains of life, and unaware of the dangers lurking around her that all of her decisions were rash and not thought through. While he loved to watch her constant fidgeting, he felt like everything was now a potential danger. The thought of her being ripped away from him due to her infinite curiosity terrified him.

„You’re not alone, though. You have me by your side, darling,“ he reminded her softly. He just wanted her to need him the same way he needed her. „I can show you everything safely without the need of you getting hurt. You don’t have to rush.“

„But I want to rush- There’s so much out there! I just… I can’t explain it.“ There it was again, that need of hers to leave. Erin stiffened at the bare thought of her leaving the safe nest that he had provided her with, the anxiety he often felt when the situation was spinning out of control loomed over him.

„It’s like I’m missing something—,“ she went on with the same enthusiasm. „—a small piece of me, and it’s out there, I just have to find it!“ She sounded like she was convinced something out there was beckoning her to come out and embark on some sort of special mission that she was specifically designed for. Erin struggled to contain his bubbling desperation. Why wouldn’t she understand?

The only thing she was designed for was for loving. She was meant to love him and crave him, to stay close to him, not to crave the unknown. This sinking feeling of deja vu made his skin crawl, and suddenly, he felt his body growing hot and clammy, making his vision spin. He felt sick, physically ill at this point. As he acutely felt his heart pounding against his ribcage, it clearly trying to escape its confines, he put his hand on Grace’s shoulder to steady himself.

„Are you okay?“ Grace asked, casting away her excitement. He saw how her brows furrowed and how worry set in her previously determined expression, and that… that meant everything to him. He loved to see her worried for him, to see her pause her current train of thought and make him the centre of her attention. It was everything he wanted, everything that he desired from her. To just stop those fleeting thoughts and ideas that distanced her from him and to just stay. „E-Erin?“ she asked once more, snapping him out of his thoughts. He ran his hand through her locks, petting her.

„Somethings are better left unexplored, Grace.“, he settled on saying. „Stay here with me. I can guide you. I can give you all the knowledge you crave without you having to go out at all— I’ll teach you everything I know. Doesn’t that sound nice?“ He slowly closed the gap between them, pulling her closer to him and tucking her in his embrace. She didn’t fight it; she was already used to the way he sought her out whenever he needed to ground himself.

„It does, but—“

„I could show you how to make dolls of your own, or how to bake, or how to draw. We could make so many new clothes for you together. Doesn’t that sound great?“ he breathed into her ear as if trying to channel his own shaky excitement for the idea into her. „Y-Yes, it does,“ she stammered, finally relenting.

„Right? There we go, it does sound great, doesn’t it?“ He nodded to himself, feeling proud of having suggested such good ideas. The voices in his mind that urged him on to keep this compelling for her gradually began to quieten the more he went on. „And don’t worry about getting to see the outside. I promise that when you’re ready, the two of us will go out and explore that too! I can show you the most exciting of hiking routes. I’m sure you’ll love them. But for now… let’s stick to the house, darling. There is so much for you to see here, you just have to give it a chance.“ When she fell silent and instead buried her head deeper into his chest, he exhaled. He didn’t even realise that he’d been holding his breath this entire time.

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tragedy-for-sale · 8 months ago

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Still Water

Padme Amidala lays to rest in a mausoleum outside of Theed. Captain Rex and Ahsoka Tano go to pay their respects to their former friend, but what they found would haunt them forever.

Hi! As you might know, I am part of @swartists4palestine as a writer. I had the wonderful opportunity to work on this piece for @thelivingforce. I really enjoyed working on this and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

┉┉┉◤▲◥┉┉┉

It was quiet, which meant they had to be silent. Even the water was still under the three moons of Naboo. Rex was overtaken by the sight of the giant statue guarding the entrance, Padme Amidala, former Queen of Naboo, her throne room gown immortalized in stone. Rex gritted his teeth, even in death, she performed, beautiful and radiant. “I have a bad feeling about this-” His stomach turned, they weren’t that far from Theed, shouldn’t it be louder? He hadn’t wanted to come to Naboo in the first place, but Ahsoka. Oh, Ahsoka. They hid behind the giant statue, its shadow providing them the cover they needed to approach the door to her Mausoleum safely. “You place the flowers, say your goodbyes and then we’re out, got it?”

“We’ll be fine, calm down.” Ahsoka all but hissed, she reached the door first, it wasn’t locked, her tomb wasn’t even guarded. Padme deserved more.

Ahsoka pushed the large, heavy door open, poking her head inside, her desperation got the best of her and she ran inside, coming to a halt as Rex grabbed her arm, “Stop-” He hissed, “You’re a soldier, you know better than to rush in,” He pulled her back to him, blaster drawn, “Look at the sarcophagus, ‘Soka, recon.”

“It’s open.” Ahsoka shook her head in disbelief, someone was here and she’d been too blinded to even sense it. She started to fall back, Rex had already assumed a crouch, blaster ready to kill. She closed her eyes, trying to focus, she couldn’t sense any movement, except… “The sarcophagus, Rex,” Grave robbers, it must be. Ahsoka felt anger flood within her. The anger of Anakin Skywalker.

Her nose twitched as she advanced, whoever decided that desecrating Padme Amidala’s tomb was a good idea was about to be killed. “Commander sto-” Rex groaned, had she forgotten all her training? He started to follow her, groaning at her seeming incompetence. But he ran into Ahsoka, who stopped frozen in her tracks.

“Rex.” She whispered, unable to move, unable to breath, “Look-”

“What is it little ‘un?” Rex stood up, creeping slowly towards the sarcophagus, her hand? He felt his stomach drop. Padme Amidala’s hand, resting on the edge, with a cold grip on a pendant. He felt his breath start to go as the fingers moved, he had a feeling. They both jumped at the sound of the pendant hitting the stone floor. Rex looked down, eyes wide. The Japor Snippet- “We need to leave.”

They should have already left. With her hand free, she pushed against the lid, the heavy stone lid moved with otherworldly ease. The lid tipped, hitting the ground, shaking the entire mausoleum, unsettling even dust. The lid fell and Padme Amidala, the corpse of the woman in a gown of neptune blue and wilted flowers adorning hair fallen from her skull, moved slowly as she sat up, instantly alarmed, looking down, hand on her belly. Rex felt his eyes water- the babies.

“Rex, come on-” Ahsoka hissed. She was already behind him, already to the door, and Rex hadn’t even noticed. All he could focus on was Padme’s incoherent wails as she looked at her belly, something was missing. Ahsoka had tried to get to Rex, but Padme, that wasn’t Padme- had finally noticed they were there.

Padme’s glowering eyes turned Rex into stone, she tilted her head, but then she reached out her hand and Rex wanted to take it, he took a step forward. Through her slacked jaw, dislocated shoulder and empty stare, Rex still saw the face of the woman his general loved so dearly. She looked so sad, “I know you’re confused,” Rex reached out his hand.

“Rex-” Ahsoka whispered as loud as she could. Had he forgotten all his training? She was trying to get to Rex, but Padme’s corpse and its paralyzing stare found Ahsoka. Who looked into her cold dead eyes, “Padme-” Padme’s mouth opened, letting out a wail, hand on her belly again, there was nothing there, her babies weren’t there. And Rex, the poor, caring fool he was, turned to look at Ahsoka, whose eyes went wide as a loud screech shook the mausoleum, and she lunged forward. “Look out!” Ahsoka screamed, using the force to push Rex out of the way.

He went flying back, hitting the stone wall, Rex looked up through groggy eyes, seeing Ahsoka, one hand out as Padme clawed her way slowly to her, “Please… Padme, it’s me, it’s ‘soka, it’s Snips-” Ahsoka wanted so badly for this to be her, she tried to reach out through the Force, but Padme Amidala…

Ahsoka Tano closed her eyes, just for a minute, she wasn’t going to fight Padme, what was the point? Just for a moment, Ahsoka asked herself, what was the point? She closed her eyes longer than a minute, there was another loud screech and the sound of blaster fire. When Ahsoka opened her eyes, she found herself in Rex’s arms, who’d picked her up and was running towards the door. Padme rose to her feet, screaming as she started to sprint after them. “You didn’t shoot her.” She didn’t blame Rex for not doing what he should have, she couldn’t have struck Padme down either. Rex didn’t say anything, all he could focus on was getting Ahsoka out of there. “We have to help her.” Ahsoka said at last, who’d jumped from his arms to run beside him.

“Help?” Rex stopped, looking back towards the mausoleum as he caught his breath, they must’ve lost her. “Ahsoka, we can’t help her, she’s not even alive.”

“You don’t know that! She recognized us! She recognized me.”

Rex huffed, shaking his head, “Kid, that’s your grief talking. Clearly something else is going on here, something we know nothing about, we can’t do anything to help her. I’m sorry, ‘Soka, but we’re leaving.”

“But what if we can help her? We’re staying.”

“No, we’re not-”

Argue on the battlefield, wind up dead. One of the first rules of war, but this wasn’t a battlefield, it was two best friends arguing over a woman they loved so much more than themselves. But it was a war, bigger than they knew, and they had stopped to argue about it. When they could’ve kept running, they stopped; when they could've resigned, they fought. For this was a war, and they were soldiers, and soldiers would rather die on the battlefield than leave one of their own behind. So, they stayed and listened forever to the loud, wailing screeches of Padme Amidala that echoed throughout the plains outside of Theed. They forever watched the moonlight dance on shaken water, no longer still.

┉┉┉◤▲◥┉┉┉

#my entire personality is angst #so there might be a lot of that #I really did like this concept #it was very wizard #star wars #clone wars #tcw #sw #captain rex #ahsoka tano #padme amidala

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toa-secretsanta · 1 year ago

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flowers we are - for leo

i reach'd my home – my home no more.

"Ah! Watch your step!"

It was a silly thing to say, he supposed, with her legs hooked through his arms such as they were, with her weight on his back, but Matthew heeded his own advice and hopped from one foot to the next, bootsoles gently tapping against the bark of fallen logs until he had passed the bush peeking out from underneath.

Azaleas. His lips curved, and he shifted her weight against his back, gestured to them. "P'rhaps I'll come back for them – would you like that? A bouquet of them, a whole bush for you. Lovely things, amazed they grow in such a place."

But they thrived in the cool and damp, in the shadows. Just as he did, just as Leila did. She was often likened to a rose, something that he had started (and don't let anyone tell you different), but it wasn't quite an apt comparison. She was lovely, of course – one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, and funny and charming, and when he took in her scent he found himself being dragged into the fantasy of a time and a place where they might merely have been other people.

And the thorns, couldn't forget those, neither the two she kept at her hip nor the barb of her tongue, ready for whatever throat or stray hand came too close.

But roses were fussy things, preening and needy, keening for more and wilting when conditions weren't just so. Not Leila. She was hardy, she adapted, thrived under pressure and the swift turn of the howling winds at their backs.

And she reminded him of home.

It had been quite a while since he had gone home, hadn't it? In the literal sense, not in the fields of his memories, nor in the crook of her arms. A few years, by his counting, and Saints he had been a skinny thing, hadn't he? All knobs and knees and eager eyes, taking in everything that his fingers couldn't.

"This seems like the spot, don't you think?"

His feet sank into the soft, loamy soil as he came to a halt, a rolling embankment shrouded in moss and greenery and dappled light. Tipping his head skyward, he let out a slow breath from his nose. If he ignored, for a moment, the intense quiet and the scent of the sea, he might have been able to convince himself that he was faraway, in a little village tucked into the hills of Ostia, with the fog rolling in from the mountains to envelop him like a cloak.

"You'd have loved it there, you know," he said as his fingers found the earth. "Not the bustle of the city you're used to, no, but there's a charm to getting one's hands dirty. Hah – not that we'd know anything about that. A poor joke, I know, but it's different, watching things come to life."

Matthew almost laughed at the thought, a dry, strangled sound that built in his throat but did not crest – that the blood on their hands could have been replaced with earth, tilling the soil for fruits and vegetables, or flowers, even.

Once he might have looked forward to it, but he supposed their hands weren't mean to bring life, only to take it.

He took her hand in his, for a moment – it had always slotted so neatly into his, the shapes they made, their callouses the matching puzzle pieces for one another – and, for a moment, he could imagine that it wasn't as stiff as it was.

I've always got cold hands, she would have said, slipping her fingers against his skin to make him jump with a laugh, that's why I've always got to keep them moving. You might say this work was made for me.

He pressed his palms together around hers in a practiced movement and breathed into the space they made, the heat of his breath brushing tenderly against her fingers a final time.

"My father would have loved you," he said softly, drawing back long enough to heave himself from the pit he'd dug. "My mother, too, of course, but he and I are of a similar humor – I think he'd like to have seen you laugh. My jokes are better, though – obviously – so it might take him a few tries to figure out - "

He could hear her laugh then, the song of it flowing into his ears and sending a shiver down his spine, and he huffed gently, feeling the chastisement; "Yes, just like it took me a few tries, but who could blame me for being so stricken – ah, yes, tease me all you like, but even a man such as me gets the shakes."

She might have reminded him that the shakes were blood loss, two spirits of the night meeting in a safe house that scarce would have been so safe if she hadn't taken such quick action. Matthew laughed it off, called her his guardian angel, but she didn't seem to find it as funny as he did.

But you needed humor in their line of work, didn't you? Better to let them call you mad for laughing than to actually be mad, to toss oneself into the line of fire like that over and over again, and to stroll out whistling a jaunty tune.

"My mother would conspire for children, of course – take you to market, show you off, look at the catch her Mattie pulled, but it would just be a ruse for the hens to peck for kiddos. A matching set, if they could manage it – but you don't have to worry, I never wanted – ah, sorry I just – merely the mist – something in my eye - "

His voice shivered then, a great wrack against his frame, a warble in time with the rise and shake of his shoulders. Very suddenly, he felt rather small, a speck in the long dark green of the forest around him, the gaping grasping branches that reached, threatened to strangle him, to drag him underneath and Matthew felt his throat constrict around his breaths, increasing shallow.

He would drown here, if he stopped moving, stopped struggling against the tide. He could feel himself being held underwater, though there was no arm to scrabble against, no hand at his throat, just the gentle cold squeeze in his chest.

Matthew slumped, his back finding bark, and cradled his head in his hands.

Sharp brown eyes found him as he emerged from the mist and slunk back into the fold – they always seemed to know where he was, bar when he did not want to be found. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be found now, but let it happen nonetheless.

Mark cocked their head at him, eyes assessing as they took in the set of his shoulders, the cant of his head. If they saw the streaks that had dried on his cheeks, the rim of red around his eyes, they elected not to say so, merely a soft, "Matthew?"

He slipped a grin onto his features – the same as he always wore, but ill-fitting now, as though it was tailored for another. Perhaps it was, and he was only borrowing it. "Fighting fit, oh great mind. You can't think to move forward without me, could you? And leave me behind?"

There was an edge to his voice, but they elected not to comment on that either, merely tilting their chin upwards once in acknowledgement – still quiet, still assessing.

Finally, they seemed to come to a conclusion, and tipped their head in the direction of his young lord. "Go see Hector. If he assents, I assent."

Odd phrasing about it, but he didn't let it rattle him, didn't let the hard edges of his smile slip, his armor.

They thought to protect him, surely – to defend him in his fragile state against the blades of the Fang, those bared teeth from the rotting maw. They didn't seem to understand that those teeth had already sank into his tender parts, and they couldn't have held him back from putting the beasts down with all the might of Ostia behind them.

Or perhaps they did. Perhaps they knew that once they found the bastard that had killed Leila, it would be Matthew's turn to bare his fangs.

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jesterchan · 1 year ago

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✝️💜🖤~Exorcism Of Lust~🖤💜✝️ (Part 2!) (NSFW!)

Priest AU!

A Priest Sun, Moon, And Eclipse X Possessed Female Reader Story...

NSFW Warning!

Content Warning: French Kissing, Fellatio, Cunnilingus, Cream Pies, Triple Penetration, Religious Themes, Fingering, And Praise Kink...

Eclipse's POV:

I was praying to god...

After finishing my prayers, I spend my free time reading the Bible.

I read at peace until...

"Father Eclipse!" a female voice called.

I dropped my Bible out of startlement. I picked up the book, irritated. I turned around to see Sister Vanessa running towards me.

She halted to draw breath and adjusted her gown.

"Any troubles Sister?" I ask, dusting the book with my arm.

"Something is happening to Father Sun and Moon!" she cried.

My eyes widened as I nearly dropped my book. I try to keep calm and not panic.

I walked towards her and questioned, "What is happening to them right now?"

"They are being lured by a possessed woman! They began doing blasphemous acts that you wouldn't even imagine!"

Tears well up in her eyes as she looked down. She then starts to weep.

I gasped and replied, "Oh goodness, Thanks for informing me. I shall take care of it immediately!"

I sprinted to seize a jeweled cross, a key, and some holy water.

I rushed downstairs, into the dungeon only to find an incredibly unholy scene.

(✝️💜🖤~Smut Starts Here~🖤💜✝️)

Father Sun was French kissing a nude S/C H/C-haired demon woman, (Unless you have no hair.) and she looked at me with sinful E/C eyes.

Father Moon, on the other hand, was licking her folds and fingering her. She moaned as her lips parted from Sun's, Leaving connected strings of drool.

"Father Sun! What are you doing?!" I interrupted

He looked at me with eyes full of lust, he sat up and suggested, "~Come play Eclipse...~"

Father Moon stopped licking, turned around, and pleaded "Please..."

I courageously held my adorned cross and approached them. The woman hissed and used her power to hinder me from approaching.

The power was so strong that I was thrown and collided with the stone walls. I recovered, but to my dismay, the jeweled cross sliced into pieces.

Just when I was about to grab my holy water...

"Eclipse don't!" Father Moon shouted.

I put it down and turned to Moon, wondering what he had to say.

"We are helping her! We are purifying her!" he said

"How?" I ask

"By filling her... With our holy seed..." he moaned out.

"No!" I shook my head, turned around to the wall, and said, "There has to be another way..."

"Her power is too strong for the cross, holy water, and the Bible combined..." Sun explained, his rays wilted like a flower.

"Well..." I turned back at them, "If those don't work..."

I removed my attire and unlocked my modesty plate, which revealed two large tentacle cocks.

"We'll have no choice but to sin..." my tentacle cocks wiggled and swirled about.

I clasped my hands and pleaded.

"Forgive me, Lord, as I am about to sin..."

I approached the bed and crept to the woman.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"My name is... Y/N..." she seductively replied, letting out a slight chuckle.

"~That's a beautiful name...~" I praised before cupping my enormous hands on her cheek.

I left kisses all over her shoulders and neck. She moaned and kissed my lips. I couldn't help but let the temptation take over me.

Third Person's POV:

Eclipse nuzzled into Y/N's B/S chest, he caressed them softly, causing her to quietly moan.

He played with her nipples, pinching them harshly.

Her moans increased in volume due to sensitivity. She yanked her head back.

Moon lined his cock and lubricated her folds before softly penetrating inside.

He started with slow delicate thrusts, feeling her tight walls. He softly moaned due to her tight entrance.

Y/N's mouth was then crammed up with Sun's cock, like Moon, he thrusts gently. Trying his best not to destroy her jaw.

Eclipse toyed with his two cocks, waiting for his turn. He could hardly wait to destroy Y/N's demon.

Moon gave a couple of swift powerful thrusts before loading her up with his holy seed.

Sun moaned as he came at the same time, he filled up Y/N's throat will his seed. He panted a little bit, but he wasn't done yet. He then carefully pulled out his cock.

Eclipse let out a groan as he ejaculated strings of semen.

"Move along Father Moon, it's my turn..." he said.

Moon moved away from Y/N, letting Eclipse take over. He lined his cocks and began thrusting at a standard pace.

Y/N began to stroke Father Sun and Moon's cocks, she would suck one of them off and switch at times.

Eclipse plowed into Y/N's entrance like a feral beast. They both screamed in pleasure, Thrusts so erratic, which then resulted in a filling orgasm.

He pulled out, stroked himself, and strings of seed decorated her body.

She devilishly smiled at him, gathered his semen, and tasted the fluid.

"Come along Father Sun, it's your turn..." He gestured for Sun to take over.

Sun crawled on the bed, lubricated Y/N's folds, and penetrated inside her used hole. Like Father Moon, he started softly.

"Our little lamb, our poor little lamb... May the Lord cure you with his holy seed..." He praised as he moaned in between his sentences.

Y/N looked at him, eyes full of remorse. She panted as his pace slowly hastened up. His hand cupped her cheek and pressed his lips on hers.

Tongues twist and swirl around while their saliva blends in. Each thrust hits harder than the previous.

After a few impactful thrusts, Sun's seed stuffed up her tight entrance. She moaned, took deep breaths, and sat up.

Her wings quivered and her tail slowly swished. They start to noticeably shrink. However, the shrinking halted midway.

"The demon is starting to leave her body..." Moon pointed out.

"This is a good sign, Father Moon. We shall penetrate all of Y/N's holes to expel the demon once and for all." Eclipse suggested.

"Let the purification... Begin..." Sun chimed in.

Y/N went on hands and knees, her legs spread out, allowing Father Sun to penetrate her entrance from underneath.

Father Moon knelt and jammed his cock into her mouth.

Finally, Eclipse approached her from behind, his two large cocks penetrated both her arse and vaginal holes, double penetrating her entrance.

The three priests all began to softly thrust inside Y/N. She moaned on Father Moon's cock. Father Eclipse's two large cocks make their way through her holes.

She moaned and looked down at Sun.

"Such an obedient lamb... I beg you to cum for us."

The three priests start to quicken the pace. Y/N begins to feel a little weary.

Her holes being used repeatedly for a long period is starting to drain not only her stamina but her demon powers as well.

The room was filled with moans and skin-slapping.

Her demon wings started to shrink and her tail began to disappear. Purity starts to wash over her.

After a few powerful thrusts, the three priests crammed her up with their cum. Her walls fluttered for the last time.

They all carefully pulled out. Their cocks spurt out the remaining semen on her body as they all got off of her.

She then lays down on the side, her legs shaking. She slowly took deep breaths and shivered due to the chill temperature.

Father Sun hurried to grab a warm fluffy blanket and covered her nude body.

(✝️💜🖤~Smut Ends Here~🖤💜✝️)

Y/N's opened her E/C eyes and sat up.

"Y/N? Are you there?" Eclipse asked, hoping she would act her usual self.

She nodded and examined her body. She smiled and replied, "Thank you for banishing the demon..."

"You're welcome." the three priests said in unison.

She then started to feel drowsy, and her eyelids felt heavy.

"Want us to take you to a more comfortable room..." Father Moon offered.

"Yes, Father Moon..." she replied.

Father Moon carried Y/N bridal style and walked her to a bedroom. The other priests followed

The bedroom looked adorned and cozy. He placed her on a huge bed full of pillows. He covered her with a blanket as she lay down.

Moon chose to join her, he looked at Father Eclipse and Sun.

The two priests then joined them and cuddled. Y/N giggled as they delivered hugs and kisses.

"Thank you all again for getting rid of that demon!" she starts to yawn and get comfy.

"That's our purpose, to purify others and give hope." Father Eclipse explained.

She smiled and said, "Well, I have to rest now."

"Good night Y/N!" Father Sun said, chuckling a bit.

Y/N then slowly drifted off to sleep...

✝️💜🖤~The End~🖤💜✝️

Have an idea for a one-shot? Let me know in the comments below! I can't wait to hear your ideas!

Note: Pick four emojis at most for a one-shot you want! Pick two hearts for a type of one-shot that you want!

#fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #moondrop #sundrop #fnaf eclipse #minors dni #minors do not interact #x y/n smut #smut #smut fic #alternate universe #x reader #x reader smut

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rosariumuae · 4 months ago

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Forever Roses: A Symbol of Eternal Love and Luxury

Flowers have always been a timeless symbol of love, care, and affection. But what if you could preserve this beauty for years to come? Forever Roses from Rosarium are not just flowers; they are exquisite works of art designed to captivate the eye and warm the heart for years.

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yostresswritinggirl · 2 years ago

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𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦

pairing -> Cyno x Reader

word count -> 1,638 words

themes : blood and injury, slight spoilers to Cyno's story quest, angst with comfort, good ending, death threats from Cyno of course, a bit gorey but nothing extreme, viewer discretion is advised

A beautiful and sweet-scented flower adorned your desk one morning, thinking that it was a gift left by your boyfriend for the troublesome paperwork he had left you. However, the flower wasn't really there for good intentions, and you learned that the hard way. (Tighnari ver., Alhaitham ver.)

The lone white vase on top of your table at the Matra office housed an almost translucent flower that seemed to refract the sunlight pouring through the window, pouring a rainbow light over your awaiting paperwork.

A smile slowly crept to your face as you made your way over, Cyno must have sneaked the new flower since the last one he gifted wilted a few days ago.

There's a sweet scent coming from it too. "I've never seen a flower like this before," you leaned close and took a whiff of the flora - only to pull back with a pained cough after the 'pollen' entered your nose. "Eugh, only for viewing pleasure then."

Despite the day starting with sniffles, you got to work with newfound vigor, sneaking glances at the beautiful flower that you almost forget how stacked your work is today. Something about the Court of Desolation and the 300 eremites captured that you need to file a report on.

Maybe the flower was a way for him to say sorry and thank you for your hard work. You'll have to thank him later then.

The sweet scent infiltrated Cyno's nose the moment he stepped into the headquarter's hallways, alluring and refreshing in the morning. And judging by the trail, it seems to be coming from your office.

His feet made quick work to speedwalk towards your office, opening the door with a smile on his face - only to drop at the sight of your confused gaze staring back at him.

Your voice trembled, hoarse. "Cyno?" A trail of blood flowed down from your nostrils as it drips from your chin, staining the wood and papers and the palm of your hand that tried to save your work. Watching your gaze turn away from him, he caught sight of the beautiful, unfamiliar flower. "Didn't... you?"

His movements felt like it wasn't his own as he crossed your office in a quick second, grabbing the vase and throwing it into the bin in the corner with urgency, before cradling your cheeks in his hands.

You haven't seen his eyes this wide and frantic before. But as you tasted the disgusting flavor of metal on your tongue, your head slowly falls to his chest as he screamed, "MATRA! EMERGENCY!"

Investigation

That was no simple flower nor the kind that can be found in the forests, with pollen akin to fiberglass and sprayed with a perfume to mimic the real deal. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the damage only reached your nose and the back of your throat.

All Matra work halted for the next few days as you rested in a spare room in the headquarters as the initial investigation started, lead by your lover despite how much he wanted to stay by your side instead.

Cyno would be by your side during the hours you're awake, and busy meticulously scouring every corner of Sumeru when you aren't.

The first day he already concluded that it wasn't any of the Matras - after all, they were the only ones privy to your relationship, not once had it crossed their mind to challenge the vicious General Mahamatra.

But it was still a person that would at least know the inside of the headquarters seeing as they easily pinpointed your office and sneaked in when the Corps of Thirty guarding the building rotated. But they too were innocent.

If it were the criminals and scholars he apprehended, the absurd amount of suspects he'd have to investigate would take him months to finish investigating. There's still a lot of things amiss in the situation, but upon hearing your whimpers after a bad cough, he knew he had to try harder. Even if it was costing him his sleep.

At some nights when he was forced to stay due to your tight grip on his hand despite being asleep, Cyno finds himself wide awake without nothing to do but stare at your unconscious form.

With no one but the moon as his witness, your lover couldn't help but spill a few tears in regret and hatred. During the worst nights, he find himself blaming himself for possibly causing this great misfortune.

He would cradle, stroke, and whisper broken apologies to your head. Gently kissing it as he tries to stop himself from another breakdown, while you do your best to pretend that you were still asleep.

Recovery

Eating, drinking, talking, even breathing hurt like hell. Even with the various painkillers and medicine you drank, the wounds won't miraculously disappear just like that.

The other Matra take turns caring for you whenever the General is away, the faces and days bled together from the heavy medicine you have to take thrice a day, and soon the only one you recognize is the face of your lover.

Seeing you like this hurt him just as much as you do, and he really tries his best to always be there when you're conscious. Even when he's out in the city, the Matra would send him a message through the Akasha to inform him that you're awake, and he would immediately drop whatever he was doing just to visit.

Initially, due to the condition of your throat, you had to eat liquid/pureed foods and they were awful. The fatigue combined with the pain kept you from eating most of the time, only managing to eat a few portions when it was Cyno spoon feeding you, only to ease the worry causing wrinkles on his face.

Speaking also became problematic and writing became tedious soon enough. But your smart and patient lover taught you the alternative of sign language, taking great care to teach you as efficiently as he could. Even if you weren't fluent, the basics were enough to get your points across.

He's never felt great relief being able to communicate with you without feeling guilt every time your throat itched from being scratched up. And yes, he also uses sign language while speaking so you can hone your skills while not feeling left out.

If there was one good thing that came out of this gruesome scenario, it was the fact that you spent so much of your time with him more than ever before. You've never felt so loved and cared for, and any doubts about your relationship faded each day he was by your side.

While it seems that your injuries wasn't that big of a deal compared to say, a broken bone, the heavy medication, bleeding and pain made you too exhausted to even leave the bed at times. Your lover would always find ways to keep you sane and entertained as best he could - card games in bed, new flowers everyday, better joke materials.

When your nose would start bleeding again, he was always quicker on wiping it off for you. Cough drops and a glass of water in close distance for when your throat is the one acting up.

Despite the delicateness of his touches, sometimes you can't help but avert your eyes when you see his melancholic gaze up close - Cyno always struggled to hide his true feelings in front of you, but the exhaustion made him easier to read.

Taking his hand away from your cheek after he had spaced out for too long, he watched in silent curiosity as you curled his middle and ring finger to his palm, extending the rest of his fingers before holding up his hand. I, L, Y. The first code he taught you.

Cyno couldn't get the words out of his mouth as he closed his eyes, hoping that you didn't see his unshed tears as he mouths 'I love you, too.'

Aftermath

The perpetrator was indeed one of the criminals related to the Court of Desolation case. However, the thing that made him stand out was that he was one of the few people to have been escorted inside the headquarter during the investigation phase.

Upon seeing your less than professional interaction with Cyno when passing by, he devised a plan to get back at the General as a last hurrah.

A public trial was held for the crime he had committed against you, and the whole of Sumeru watched the battered man be sentenced to a life in prison. The raw fury in the eyes of the General Mahamatra as he stood in front of the criminal and practically screamed his judgment haunted many of the audience to this day.

But the unofficiated threats were permanently etched in everyone's mind, "If you, or anyone else in this nation for that matter, dares to harm my lover again. I will make sure that you will die by my hand, painful and agonizing, until you're begging for a death sentence."

News of your relationship spread fast like wildfire yet you didn't feel any kind of fear that the incident would happen again. No one dared to speak your name in any bad manner, with rare occasions of meeting you with newfound of respect for your previous predicament.

Your sense of smell and taste were slightly muted to the damage you sustained, but that was the worst of the side effects thankfully. The feast with the Matras after your wounds had fully healed was a blessing, everyone encouraging you to try each dish and asking how it tastes or smells to get accustomed to your adjusted senses.

Out of all the side effects however - the sight of Cyno embracing you and giving you affection in broad daylight now that you don't have to hide your relationship anymore, was the best.

Mmm I love hurt. I couldn't finish the fic I was writing, and it was getting long too, so I drafted that and started up this new one to post something tonight at least.

#cyno x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #cyno #gender neutral #genshin impact angst #tw: blood and injury #exile.flower #sumeru arc

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yunjinssunshine-moved · 3 years ago

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Yuna | Windflower

Itzy Yuna x fem!reader words: ~4.9k genre: fluff, angst, royalty AU, (childhood friends to lovers)

Desc.: Due to a promise made between your parents and another family, you are arranged to marry their oldest son on the day you turn 18. However, aside from the fact that he isn’t the kind of person you’d wish to spend the rest of your life with, you only have eyes for Yuna, the girl who used to be one of your childhood friends and is now your secret lover.

You’re walking through the yard of your family’s palace, setting one foot in front of the other slowly. The windflowers growing here during the spring and autumn have wilted, here and there you find a lone petal, having taken on a dead shade of brown. You keep your eyes mostly directed on the path leading through the garden, sometimes taking note of a pebble lying around in the dust. There’s not much to see here anymore, now that the colors of your beloved flowers have faded.

The corset of your dress makes it hard to breathe for you - or maybe it’s the fact that today is the evening leading up to your 18th birthday. Birthdays have always been happy occasions for you, with your parents organizing only the most delicious food, presents, and letting you have a party with all the other girls from the royal families living nearby.

“Y/N!” you hear a familiar voice calling out to you, tearing you out of your gloomy thoughts. You whirl around to find her dashing towards you over the grass, holding the skirt of her pompous blue and pink dress up so she can run properly.

“Yuna! The gardener’s gonna kill you if he sees you’re trampling all the grass again!” She halts right in front of you, throwing her head over her shoulder so quickly that the tips of her long black hair almost hit you in the face. She eyes the crushed grass, in which the path she took is clearly visible, and when she turns her head back to you, she sticks out her tongue.

“Well, nobody needs to know it was me,” she cheekily replies before letting out a mischievous laugh, eyes sparkling with joy. You smile at the sight, and having her with you brings you some peace of mind. You reach out to wrap your fingers around hers, entwining them. Then you take a proper look at her.

“You look beautiful today,” you whisper as you gaze at her with adoration in your eyes.

“I think you meant to say I look especially beautiful today?” she replies and you laugh, before you lean in to place a quick peck on her pink colored lips.

“Of course,” you say. You find surprise in Yuna’s expression.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you scared someone will see us?”

“They’re all busy celebrating that the only daughter of the house will finally be married off anyway…” you answer, and you fail to swallow the bitter aftertaste the words leave in your mouth. You’ve been putting up a strong act all day, but now that it’s just you and her, your face drops to a frown. You feel Yuna putting her palm against your cheek, making you look at her big eyes, before she pulls you into a hug.

You two have always been together since you were 7. Yuna’s family lives quite nearby, just over the hill that also leads to the village. It’s like you two clicked almost immediately, and it’s not like you never fight, but you wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world. And then one day you both began to realize that your friendship was slowly turning into something more, and you’ve been secret lovers ever since.

Yuna is lucky, in your eyes. She has four sisters, and so her parents aren’t that hung up on her having to marry as soon as possible. Besides, whenever her father would ask her what kind of prince she’d want to marry when she was a kid, she would always shake her head vigorously, insisting that she wanted to marry you instead. You suppose her parents always thought she was just too young to grasp the concept of love, but ever since she’s gotten a bit older, she tends to dodge that question.

You on the other hand are the only child your parents have been blessed with. Back when you were still a little girl, that came with its own set of advantages, because they would always devote themselves fully to you. But now that you’re older and have reached the age where you can get married, you wish you had a few siblings to share the attention of your mother and father with. Then maybe they wouldn’t have arranged you to marry the oldest son of another family they’re close with. Apparently they helped your parents out with some financial matter just before you were born, and so your father promised his only daughter to them as the future wife of their oldest son once you’ve reached the age of 18. And that day is tomorrow.

Feeling Yuna’s warm embrace while thinking about your more than unpleasant reality, you feel like crying. If you’re married to a man, would you be able to keep seeing her?

“Oh there you are!” a distant voice echoes through the inner courtyard, and you two separate. Yuna’s comfort being torn away from you like that, leaves you feeling like somebody had cut the ground from under your feet for a moment.

“She’s feeling nervous so I thought I should come out to talk to her a bit,” Yuna explains to the woman who had just shouted at you. She’s one of the staff at your palace, and she’s helping out to make the party run smoothly today.

“Y/N, your parents are looking for you! Your father can’t start his speech without one half of the lucky couple missing!” she explains, an excited smile showing on her sun-kissed face.

“I’ll be right there! Just a minute!” you shout back, and once she disappears inside, you take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders. You give Yuna an insecure look, but she squeezes your hands in hers and answers with an encouraging nod.

“You can do it. It’s just a speech,” she says, and you try to focus on that for now, without thinking about what that speech will lead up to as soon as morning comes.

You walk back inside, and the guests welcome you with applause and cheering. The moment you have to leave Yuna’s side to sit next to your fiancé instead leaves you heartbroken, but the bright look in her eyes remains everytime you glance over to her during your father’s way too detailed speech. Well, he only gets to do this for one child, you think, might as well let him ramble on for a bit longer.

Eventually even he runs out of words, and when it’s time to toast, you raise your silver cup and make eye contact with your soon-to-be husband. You catch yourself thinking how you’re glad the kissing part won’t happen today, but even just sitting so close to him is bad enough. It’s not even the fact that he’s several years older than you, but you’ve just never really liked him. He doesn’t look like it from afar, but once you get to know him a bit you notice how highly he thinks of himself - and how lowly of everyone else. What’s more is that you feel the scrutinizing gazes of both his father and his mother resting on your figure with every move you make, as if one wrong gesture will make both of them get out of their seats to jump at you and give you the scolding of your life. You’re a bit scared of the cold looks on their faces, and even the walls of their luxurious home emit no warmth. A shudder runs down your spine, and just as you hope nobody noticed, the man next to you puts his arm around you.

“Are you cold, my princess?” You feel a need to throw up at him calling you that, but you manage not to let any of those feelings surface.

“I’m okay,” you deny it, hoping he would turn away from you, but he seems to have other plans, as he rises to his feet and you have no choice but to do the same, so as not to cause a scene. His arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist.

“I shall take Y/N up the chambers to warm her up a bit,” he announces. You hear someone whisper how they feel bad for you that you’re freezing, and then your eyes shift to Yuna, who is about to jump up out of her seat herself.

“I will take her,” she says, coming to your rescue, but your fiancé pulls your body away from her just before she can grab your hand.

“There is no need,” he responds, putting a certain emphasis behind his words. He wants to be alone with you, you know that, but right now you want anything but that.

“The husband should entertain the guests, shouldn’t he?” Yuna argues, “And even if the party isn’t held at your own home, these people are still your guests as well. Or am I wrong?”

“They will be fine for a few minutes, right?” He now turns towards the crowd all gathered around the dining table, waiting for their agreement. Using this moment of distraction, Yuna wraps her hand around your wrist and pulls you out of his hold.

“A woman is still the best at taking care of another woman who does not feel well. Once she is legally your wife she will be in your care, but for today I think it is still the duty of her family and closest friends to be there for her.” She speaks loudly, factually, and without too much emotion. She wants to be taken seriously by the tall man standing in front of her, because she knows that without his approval, she won’t be taking you anywhere. Finally, he sighs.

“Fine then,” he agrees, even though he isn’t happy about how things played out for him. “Take her.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, still in shock over what just happened, and you let Yuna walk you upstairs at a quick pace. You only halt once you’re in your room, standing by the foot of your bed, and she has closed the door that leads out into the hallway.

“Are you okay?” she asks as she turns around and you rush over to her, taking her face into your hands and you kiss her for as long as the capacity of your lungs allows you. You don’t know how to answer when you separate, but the way she looks at you as if her heart was breaking in a million pieces tells you you can’t just remain silent. It must be taking a toll on her too, that she’s about to lose you to that man.

“I-” you stammer, “I’ll be fine…” However, she shakes her head.

“I don’t believe you,” she answers. “I don’t believe you will be fine with a man who makes you feel so uncomfortable by just sitting next to you.”

“I’ll get used to it…”

“You will have to bear his children, Y/N.” Upon realizing what that implies, you feel the knot in your stomach growing, and you have to take a deep breath so as not to throw up on the spot.

“I will-”

“Let’s run away,” Yuna cuts you off.

“What?”

“Let’s run away, Y/N,” she repeats. “You and me.”

“But-” you stutter, “but my parents! They will be so mad at me if I do that…”

“Not if you never come back.” Her mischievous smile returns to her face as she speaks those words, and she takes a hold of both your hands. With her thumbs stroking their backsides, she adds quietly, “We could be happy ever after…”

You look into her eyes. You take one thorough look at them and you find nothing but sincere care and love for you, and in that very moment you know there is only one right answer to this question.

“Alright.”

You’re running. Hand in hand, you’re running as fast as your feet carry you. You just have to make it to the little forest to the north of the palace, then you would be safe, but for as long as you’re on the open grass field you’re at risk of being spotted.

“Yuna, I can’t-” You feel yourself falling behind slowly but steadily. As the daughter of a royal family you’re not used to running so fast and for such a long distance, and you’re already out of breath, even though you still haven’t reached the safety of the woods.

“You can do it!” she cheers you on, but at the same time the weight with which you’re pulling her back is growing heavier. That is until she suddenly halts and crouches down, almost making you trip over in the process. You lower yourself to her level.

“Let’s take off our shoes,” she says, already slipping out of hers. “It’s easier to run barefoot.” You understand and nod, then you do as she says, and you both leave your pair behind to take off running again.

You only let go of Yuna’s hand once you’re well inside the forest. You lean your exhausted body against a thick tree, trying to regain your breath. Your mouth is dry from running all the way here, but you doubt you would find clean water anytime soon. Yuna too seems a bit tired out, though she looks like she took the run a lot better than you did. She looks around and eventually her eyes widen. Something must’ve piqued her interest a bit deeper into the woods, because a smile is growing on her lips now. She takes your hand to lead you down a narrow path between high growing trees.

“Watch your step,” she warns you. You can’t see the ground well in the darkness of the night, so you have to be careful not to step onto any small animals or traps set out by the huntsmen of the village. Eventually you make it to a small clearing in the middle of the forest, the grass and flowers dyed a silver tone by the bright light of the moon shining overhead. You stop in your tracks and gasp at the sight in front of you.

“Wow… I’ve never seen anything like this…” you mutter, taken aback by the way the force of the moon seems so much stronger out here, when you’re not looking at it through the windows of the palace. Yuna joins you in marvelling at the scenery for a while, until she takes a few light steps forward and spins around to face you.

“Y/N,” she calls out your name and tears your attention away from the moon. You find an expectant smile on her face. “Do you think it’s already midnight?”

“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“Let’s say it is,” she grins. “Close your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

“O-okay…” You do as she said, and for some reason your heart starts pounding again. You feel something being put around your neck, with her skin grazing yours for a moment, before she tells you to open your eyes. You feel the cold metal on the skin above your chest very clearly now, and you look down on yourself to find a silver necklace decorating your decolleté.

“It’s a windflower. Do you like it?” Yuna asks, watching your reaction with great interest.

“I love it!” you exclaim, taking the jewelry between your fingers to have a closer look at it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Then I’m glad.” She sends you a sweet smile. “Oh, you know what we should do?”

“Hm?” You can’t even properly ask, when she already reaches for your hands and pulls you along with her to the middle of the clearing, spinning you around.

“We should dance! To celebrate,” she explains and pulls you close, putting one hand on the small of your back. Even without music, she leads you effortlessly. It’s as if your feet are flying above the cool grass, and the happiness filling your chest leaves you no choice but to let out a joyous laugh. You thought you had used up all your energy while you were running earlier, but somehow dancing with her like this makes you forget all about your exhaustion.

You stop spinning and swaying eventually, both dropping down into the grass, beaming smiles on both your faces. Words aren’t needed between you two, the loving gazes you both exchange are enough, and eventually you find yourselves sharing a sweet kiss, arms snaked around the other’s body, heads full of nothing but thoughts of the other. You feel like you’ve never been as happy in your whole life as you are at this very moment, and so you wish this night would never end.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Yuna whispers once you part, and you can still feel her warm breath on your skin as she speaks.

“I love you,” you say, and just when you want to go in for a tight hug, you see something move behind her in the woods. For a moment you hold still, thinking it might be a fox or a wolf, but when you realize it’s a man, fear hits you like a slap to the face.

“We need to run,” is the only thing you can hear yourself say, before you get up and dash into the opposite direction, Yuna right behind you.

“Stop!” a male voice yells at you, and another one shouts,

“Y/N, wait!” Not one person, but a whole group of people is chasing you. You feel your feet growing tired within seconds this time, and Yuna overtakes you with ease.

“Come on, Y/N, you need to run faster!” The worry in her voice and all over her face is apparent, but you know you can’t keep up with her, no matter what you do. She holds out her hand to you, but you hesitate to take it. And then you stand still. “What are you doing? Run!” she shouts, though even she should know it’s too late.

“Run away, Yuna,” you say, making sure to put enough force behind your words that she has no choice but to listen to you. “I’m sorry…” The next second you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, and in front of you, you see the girl you love running away, just like you told her to.

“Finally, we found you.” Your father’s voice barely reaches your ears as he speaks from right behind you. All you can focus on is Yuna’s back as she slowly disappears into the darkness, and once you’re sure she’s gone, your body sinks to the ground and you break down crying.

It’s a sunny day in early spring. You’re strolling through the inner courtyard of your home, finding countless colorful petals that have fallen to the ground and will soon begin to wilt. The windflowers are about to become dormant again, telling you that warmer days will soon arrive. And it also means that your birthday is drawing near, as well as your first wedding anniversary.

And the day that you last saw Yuna.

“Milady, lunch is almost ready,” one of your parents’ staff lets you know from across the garden. You look up, finding her standing inside, by one of the windows. You nod at her to signal that you understood, and she takes off to return to her work immediately. You let your eyes wander through the yard one more time, before turning your back on it and returning to the inside of the palace.

There hasn’t been a day that you haven’t thought of Yuna. Sometimes, in the darkness of the night, you are shaken away from a nightmare, reliving the whole experience of attempting to run away and eventually losing her. However, usually you think of her fondly. Even though you haven’t heard a single word from her since then, you’re hopeful. She isn’t the type to give up easily, and you couldn’t imagine her leaving you behind forever, no matter how much the ever passing time is trying to convince you otherwise.

When you sit down in the huge dining hall to consume your lunch, nobody else is there, except for the woman serving you your food. Your mother is probably still upstairs, reading and studying, while your father and your husband are out in the woods to hunt. They wouldn’t return before sunset.

You have almost finished your meal when the servant puts a white envelope on the table in front of you.

“Milady, you have received mail.” You wipe your mouth with a tissue, before reaching for the letter. You turn it to the other side, then you turn it again, but no matter where you look, you find nothing but your own name written on it.

“No sender? Weird…” You open the suspicious envelope, and once you unfold the paper inside, a premonition starts blossoming inside you. Having a hunch that you know this handwriting, you start reading.

“My love,

It has been too long that we haven’t seen each other. Still I dream of you every night. If you still feel the same, there will be a black carriage arriving at your palace on Friday. It will lead you to where I live now.”

There is no name at the end of the note. Instead, it is signed with the drawing of a windflower.

“There is no mistake…” you mutter, and the servant leans in a bit.

“What is…?” she allows her curiousity to take the better of her. However, instead of answering her question, you tell her to pack your things for a weekend trip. It’s already Wednesday, so you don’t have much time left.

“Oh, and,” you stop her before she can rush upstairs. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Not my husband, not my father, not even my mother. Understood?”

“Yes, milady. It will be a secret just between us.” With an excited giggle and a sincere gaze, she gives you a nod, and then you watch her ascend the stairs at the end of the hallway.

Friday comes by quickly, and once your father and husband have left to go to the woods, you spend your day sitting on the wooden bench in front of the entrance, instead of roaming through the yard for hours. You have brought a small book to keep you occupied while you wait for the carriage to arrive, but with how nervous you are you can barely focus on the words. From time to time you close your eyes, wrapping your fingers around the silver flower on the necklace that you’ve been wearing every day since Yuna gave it to you, and you take a deep breath to calm your fast beating heart.

Morning goes by and noon arrives, and still no sign of anyone picking you up. The servant who helped you pack your things steps outside and puts her hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. You haven’t told her where you’re going, neither that you probably won’t return if the carriage really takes you where you think it will. However, from her actions it is clear that she senses this journey is an important one to you, and that with every hour that you’re waiting and nothing happens, your heart grows heavier.

“Do you want some of the food I made for your mother?” she questions. “You could use the energy.” You think for a while. And just when you’re about to agree to her suggestion, you hear the sound of hooves clopping on the paved street leading to your home. You jump to your feet and stare at the big gate while you can hear the blood rushing through your veins. Expectations rising, you feel like time is passing as slowly as it possibly can, and then finally, two white horses come into sight, pulling a black carriage and grinding to a halt just in front of the gate. You take a hold of your bag and you rush forward.

“I have been sent to pick up Mrs. Y/N… is that you?” the carter asks, after stepping down from the carriage.

“Yes, yes that is me,” you answer, almost stumbling over your words.

“Do you have the letter?”

“Y-yes, one moment.” You let the bag sink to the ground and then rummage through the pockets of your jacket, eventually finding the piece of paper. You show it to the tall man, and after discovering the unusual signature, he nods.

“Step inside,” he tells you, then he reaches for your bag to place it inside the carriage for you. As you’re climbing up the few steps into the cart, you look back over your shoulder once. You try not to show the sadness on your face which you suddenly feel upon realizing you’re really leaving your home forever, fearing it might give away your real intentions to the servant still standing outside and watching you. However, she has pulled out a white handkerchief, and is now waving at you cheerfully with the fabric swaying back and forth. With a thankful smile you wave back at her with your bare hand, before taking a seat and having the carter close the door for you.

The journey takes all afternoon, and though you feel yourself growing tired after the first few hours, there is no way you could sleep sitting in a carriage that keeps uncomfortably vibrating because of the bumpy road. You’re lost staring out the window, watching the scenery passing by slowly. Your gaze drops to your hand, and the wedding ring on your finger comes into sight. You haven’t taken it off even once for almost a year, even though you never wanted to put it on in the first place. So when you finally remove it from your ring finger with some difficulty now, you feel like you just escaped the prison you’ve been locked into on your birthday last year. You stare at the ring, now held between your index finger and thumb of your left hand, like one would stare at any valuable possession that actually was never wanted. Looking out the window and finding a freshly tilled field, you take a big swing with your arm and throw the ring as far as you possibly can. The farmer who will find it eventually will sell it for good money, granting his family a few years free from worry and hunger.

The carriage stops eventually, as the sky is already turning orange, and the door of the cart is opened for you. Again, the carter helps you put your luggage down onto the street, and you thank him for his services, paying him extra. He drives off, and eventually you find yourself standing next to the street alone. There is nothing but meadows and fields and peace all around, and in front of you, you find one lone little house, surrounded by fences behind which you see a few pigs and a cow. You pick up your bag and start walking towards it, steps quickening the closer you get. And then you stand in front of the wooden door and you drop down your bag to knock. You wait, and for a little while nothing happens. This is until you hear someone calling out your name from behind.

“Y/N?” You turn around and you don’t believe your eyes when you see her. There, merely a few steps away from you, stands Yuna, holding a wooden bucket in her hands, dressed in dirty clothes meant for doing farm work, her hair tied up in two practical braids. You run towards her and she sets the bucket down to catch you in a tight hug as soon as you’ve reached her.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me forever,” you say as soon as you feel her arms around your body and her warmth enveloping you.

“How could I do that?” she asks. “I just needed some time to build up all of this,” she continues and you loosen the embrace to be able to look at her face properly. Even though there is no trace left of the wealthy girl she used to be, her beauty still hasn’t left her. “I needed to bring you to a place that is safe and where no one will find you… if you’re planning to stay, that is,” she adds, lowering her voice a bit.

“What do you mean, if? Of course I want to stay with you,” you answer without hesitation, then you pull her closer again, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Y/N.” She pulls back just a little bit, and then she places her index finger under your chin, tracing the outline of your bottom lip with her thumb. “I really, really missed you,” she repeats, and you can’t stop yourself from following your urge to lean in and kiss her. It’s as if all your feelings for her which you couldn’t convey to her in the past year are pouring out of you now, and into the kiss you share. And from the way she moves her lips against yours confidently, and with no signs of wanting to pull away anytime soon, you can tell it’s the same for her.

“Let’s stay together forever, okay?” she whispers once you break the kiss, and her hands find your shoulders, eventually sliding down to your hips to hold onto you, just to make sure nothing and nobody can take you away from her ever again. “This time for real,” she adds, and then she presses her lips against yours once more.

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missdreamshade · 4 years ago

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The True Beast

Pairing: Gaston!Hyunjin x Belle!Reader

Genre: yandere au + beauty and the beast au

Summary: What if Gaston managed to intervene before Belle went off in search for her father?

Warnings: yandere content, dark/possessive/toxic/ abusive themes ahead, please read at your own risk

You sighed, snapping your book closed in order to glare up at the annoying man dressed in red.

“Hyunjin, enough of this. I already said I wouldn’t marry you.”

Your words came out harsher than you wanted, but you hoped that maybe this time he would actually listen to them. It was becoming exhausting to turn him down day after day. Dodging the constant flow of advances sent your way. You didn’t want him. You simply never would. He was everything you despised in a person. Cocky. Arrogant. A delusional sense of entitlement.

“I know you’re just playing hard to get, Y/n, but this game we are playing is starting to get tiresome.”

“Then take the hint,” you whispered, shaking your head before leaving him and his ego standing alone in the street.

* * *

You strolled up to your cottage near the outskirts of town, your shoes clicking against the cobblestone ground. Your eyes were fixated on the page in front of you, completely emerged in the story unfolding.

“How is it I’ve looked at you my whole, and yet it feels like I’m now finally getting to truly see you?”

The prince gripped onto her chin, tilting her head up to stare deeply into her eyes. Slowly leaning in, his eyes flickering down to her lips.

—

Without warning, your body collided with another, sending you stumbling backwards. Simultaneously letting out a surprised yelp, you snapped your eyes up from the page you were reading.

“Father?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, mon rayon de soleil, I didn’t see you coming,” your father replied, startled.

You watched as he fastened the the ropes of a carriage securely to the saddle of his horse, Philippe.

“You’re off already? I thought you weren’t leaving until tomorrow morning.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving so soon,” he solemnly explained, “But the journey is going to be longer than I originally anticipated.”

A small pout formed on your lips, “I understand, have a safe travel, okay?”

You leaned up onto your lip toes, pressing an endearing kiss onto your father’s cheek. Turning towards Philippe, you dragged your hand across his snout.

“And you, take care of my father for me.”

* * *

The cottage was eerily silent all night without your father present. You thought you’d be use to his escapades by now, but you never really could get comfortable with the thought of him travelling alone.

Sighing, you kicked yourself out of bed.

“I can’t sit around and worry all day,” you muttered to yourself, pulling your hair back and tying a ribbon around to keep it in place.

You grabbed a small wicker basket, preparing to head to the town’s bakery. Slipping on your shoes, you exited your home, skipping down the pathway to the gate.

Suddenly, the booming sound of hooves pounding against the ground caught your attention. Whipping your head in the direction of the noise, your mouth fell agape in a silent gasp.

“P-Philippe,” you questioned, running over to the frantic horse, “Where’s your carriage? Where’s my father?”

The horse kicked out it’s leg, shattering a wooden board of the fence in half.

“You wait right here!”

You turned around, running back into your home, trying to gather up all the supplies you need to search for your the last piece of family you had left.

The door to your cottage slowly created open, only to slam shut seconds later. Halting all your movements, you carefully crept out into the conman area.

“Hello,” you called out.

Your eyes scanned around the room until they landed on a familiar man wearing obnoxiously bright red. A grin spread across his lips the moment his eyes landed on your figure. A tiny bouquets of half-wilted daisies were gripped in his hand.

Oh no, not again, you internally groaned. He sauntered up to you, successfully cornering you in the back room of your home.

“These are for you,” he happily exclaimed, holding out the pathetic grouping of flowers.

You sighed, “You know I can’t accept those.”

“Look, Y/n, you haven’t given me an honest shot-”

“I have, Hyunjin, many many times. Like I’ve said before, I am not interested.”

His eyes began to grow dark at your words, causing an anxious pit to grow in your stomach. It was almost as if something had snapped inside him. The hopeful grin was wiped off his face in seconds, leaving behind a scowl. Avoiding his gaze, you look down to the wooden floorboards.

“N-Now, I really don’t have time for this,” you mumbled, deciding to attempt pushing past the persistent man, “Something terrible has happened to my father-”

A loud yelp escaped past your lips the second a painfully tight grip wrapped itself around your arm, jerking you back to your original spot.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” he growled, tightening his grip even more.

Tears welled up in the corner of your eyes, fear and pain coursing through your body.

“Hyunjin, let go. Please. You’re hurting me,” you pleaded while desperately trying to tug your arm from his grasp.

A low chuckle erupted from Hyunjin’s chest. He pulled you in closer, colliding his lips roughly onto yours. Your hand raised up, preparing yourself to slap him, but he easily caught your wrist.

“You don’t want me,” he murmured breathlessly after pulling away.

Even though his eyes were staring intensely into yours, he sounded like he was talking to himself.

“You’re mine, why can’t you understand that!” he suddenly bellowed, causing you to flinch away.

“I-I was never—” you tried to meekly reply, but your voice was cut off by a force throwing you backwards, making you to crash down to the ground below.

You felt Hyunjin’s boot overlap onto your hand, stepping down. A sickening crack echoed throughout room. You let out a shriek of pure agony, tears now streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks.

“You don’t need anyone else but me, darling. Not your pesky father. Not anyone else in this dreadful little town.”

Removing his boot from your hand, he crouched down beside you. His own hand reached out, wiping away some stray tears that slipped down your cheeks.

“I gave you many chances not to break my heart, ma belle, but you just never took them. Looks like it’s finally my turn to break you.”

• • •

I tried to add some French petnames to make it more connected to Beauty and the Beast, but why do I feel like I butchered it😭

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luxekook · 5 years ago

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okay, bloomer ❃ myg

❃ pairing: floral assistant/rapper!yoongi x reader

❃ genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, slight crack, light angst and smut

❃ summary: spin-off sequel to ‘petal to the metal’; in which the reader visits a flower shop on her way home from work to treat herself to a flower and then keeps returning just to interact with the shop’s cute tsundere floral assistant. the last thing she expects is to see him ~spitting hot fire~ and looking hot as sin at her friend’s music event. how is she supposed to get flowers in peace now?

❃ word count: 10.2k

❃ warnings: 18+, cursing, violent imagery, mansplaining, tattooed and pierced yoongi, jealousy, mention of drinking, lots of sass, yoongi is soft as hell, rapping, jungkook being an idiot, smut [biting, blindfolding, bondage, sensory play, oral (f + m receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT), slight dom/sub themes, yoongi and reader are swiches, dirty talk, workplace sex]

❃ beta’d by: the amazing and gorgeous phia @meowxyoong

❃ banner by: the iconic and beautiful danica @dee-ehn

❃ commissioned by: my angel bby sweetheart jess @floralsuga UWU ILY AND I HOPE U LOVE THIS YOONGI AS MUCH AS I DO!!!!

The first time you enter the flower shop, it’s on a whim after a particularly bad day at work. You stomp down the street towards your apartment stewing over how Darryl can go screw himself as far as you are concerned. You almost flipped your desk today after the fifth time he tried to explain your own job to you.

It’s like you haven’t been working at the graphic design firm for over three years and know all there is to know about typography and how it reads on book covers. You knew the moment your boss paired you with Darryl for this assignment, you were going to be in for a bumpy ride. You just didn’t expect the bumps to be of Mount Everest proportions.

You probably look crazy as you stalk down the block untethered in your rage, mumbling something about shoving your stylus so far up Darryl’s ass he’ll choke on your creativity.

Somehow you unconsciously turn your head to admire a display of flowers blooming in a shop window. The blooming bunches of color call to you like a beacon of light in the darkness. Fuck it, you are going to treat yourself.

You dart across the street, dodging traffic. You need a flower. You need something that will brighten your evening and remind you that there is still beauty on this earth after all that mansplaining. And it seems that Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. will be your oasis of choice.

Squaring your shoulders, you push open the heavy wooden and glass door of the shop. The sound of a bell chimes in the air as you enter. A smile forms as you take in the array of greenery and petals surrounding you. The air smells like summer meadows and deep forests.

Wandering around, you realize that it’s going to be harder than you thought to pick just one flower to go home with. As you near the back of the shop, you notice the general shop counter with a cash register, a small jar, and an array of flowers scattered across the deep oak wood. It seems like someone is piecing together a bouquet.

“Can I help you?” A low, languid voice calls out to you. Slowly, a boy emerges from the back room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. He’s of average height with lean muscle and tattoos winding up both arms. His ears glint with multiple piercings, his left eyebrow has an intimidating slice through it, and his hair is a messy array of silver with a sexy as hell undercut. Yet, despite all of that tough exterior, the second you look at his face you melt.

The boy has the cutest face you have ever seen. His cheeks are full and pink, his nose is the most adorable little button, his lips are a dusky shade of rose. He has the face of an angel wrapped in a sinful package. Honestly, it’s unfair.

After a few moments, you realize he seems to be waiting for you to speak. Slitted eyebrow arched, he stares at you, dark eyes flicking over your own body.

“I’m looking to get a flower, but I just don’t know which one to pick,” You sigh, eyes shifting to glance around the shop once more. “There are so many beautiful ones to choose from.”

“Well,” The boy murmurs, “Sometimes one beautiful flower just stands out from the rest.”

Your eyes return to him, finally noticing the name-tag haphazardly pinned to his apron. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. “And do you know which flower stands out today?” You ask, hands gripping your work tote so that you don’t do anything embarrassing like squish his chubby cheeks between your palms.

“Without a doubt,” He quirks a small smile in your direction before walking around the counter. Without a word more, he wanders down the rows of flowers and stops at a particular bunch of blue blossoms. He carefully selects one flower from the bunch and extends it out to you.

You accept the flower, examining it closely. It’s beautiful indeed. Shooting a glance at the sign attached to the bucket the flower had originated from, you smile as you read the label of ‘rare blue-tinted orchids’ (rare and unique beauty).

Turning back to Yoongi, you realize he has already begun to walk back to the counter. Quickly, you follow in his footsteps, carefully holding your flower in one hand and digging through your bag to find your wallet with the other. Upon reaching the counter, you gently place your orchid down to finally retrieve your wallet from where it had been lurking at the very bottom of your tote.

“How much do I owe you?” You look up at Yoongi who had been staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face.

He just shrugs, fiddling with one of the many silver rings adorning his fingers, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“What?” You tilt your head in confusion, “But the sign said these are rare, so I’m sure it can’t be cheap.”

Again, Yoongi just lifts a shoulder lazily and shoots you a half smile, “I get an employee discount.”

“Oh,” Your eyes fall under his intense scrutiny. They land on the small jar sitting next to the register. It’s labeled with a sticky note that says: “Feed Yoongi’s Dumpling Addiction”.

“Dumplings, huh?” You grin at the cute boy and quickly grab ten dollars from your wallet, shoving the bill inside the jar.

“Hey!” Yoongi pouts, “That’s not fair.” His cheeks are shaded a bright pink, “You can’t use my weakness against me like this.”

“I just did!” You laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your orchid once more. “Bye, Yoongi.”

You send him a wave and head back out into the night. You don’t realize he had stared out after you for quite some time with a small smile and a gleam in his eye. No, you are too busy picturing what it would be like to go get dumplings with a cute flower shop assistant.

The next day at work you bring your flower along with you. Your desk needs some life breathed into it, and your flower does just the trick. Plus, you can't help but smile each time you look at it.

And so when cursed Darryl waltzes over to you to talk about your project, you kindly tell him to fuck off. You know, in a safe for work fashion. You don’t need his bullshit or his bad vibes. Not when you can draw up romance novel cover designs with a certain boy in mind. It comes as no surprise to you as you realize later on that you had been drawing orchids woven throughout the book title.

The rest of the week passes by slowly as does the wilting of your flower. Yet on Thursday, your boss praises you for your flower designs, so much so that she decides to give you the company credit card to go buy a bouquet for the office as further inspiration. You tell her you know just the place.

Taking an extended lunch break, you trek over to Of Fern & Freesia. Stepping through its doors brings an immediate smile to your face. You glance around, noticing a few other customers scattered throughout the shop. No sign of Yoongi.

You weave your way around the rows of flowers and the patrons that dot the aisles. A heavy feeling of disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach as you notice that there is a woman at the counter instead of the cute boy from a few days prior. The woman glances up as you approach, “Oh, hello! Welcome to Of Fern & Freesia. How may I help you?”

“Hi, yes,” You shoot a furtive glance around, “I was hoping that you could recommend a bouquet?”

“Hm,” She nods, “Of course! What’s the occasion?”

“It’s just for my office,” You explain, “We need some inspiration, and flowers seem to have helped lately.”

“I see,” She smiles, “Well, let me ask you if—”

“Hey, boss lady! Do you know what happened to the lace ribbons? I can’t find— Oh,” Yoongi halts as he emerges from the back room and lays eyes on you. “Hello,” He mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

The woman helping you looks at Yoongi and then looks back at you and then looks at Yoongi again. A sly smile forms on her lips, “Well, well, well. Why don’t I go look for those lace ribbons while you help this customer here.” She turns to you, “My very best employee will be sure to take excellent care of you.”

Chuckling slightly, she disappears through the door that Yoongi had vacated a minute before.

“I’m your only employee!” Yoongi calls after her, the small smile on his face betraying his complaint. Still grinning slightly, he turns his brown eyes back to you, “Hello again…” He pauses, clearly waiting for you to fill in the unspoken blank.

“(Y/n),” You extend a hand out tentatively, “And you’re Yoongi.”

“That I am,” Yoongi smirks and takes your hand in his. You glance down at your clasped hands and marvel at how his hand fully engulfs yours. The heat of his palm burns into you while the coolness of his many rings makes you shiver. Eventually, you let go, certain your cheeks are as red as the display of roses to your left.

“Well, what can I do for you, (y/n)? Back for another flower?” His eyes flit around the shop briefly before returning to yours.

“A bouquet, actually,” You smile, “For the office. On the office.” You flash the company card that your boss had given you, and your stomach flips as he laughs – his dark eyes crinkling and his gums showing adorably.

“Didn’t picture you working in an office,” He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as his tongue pokes his cheek.

“Oh, so you’ve been picturing me, then?” You tease and internally sigh as he blushes fiercely, turning away from you.

“Yah, you know what I meant,” Yoongi scowls without any real menace, “You seem like you do something - I don't know - weird.”

You stare at him a moment and then burst into laughter. Yoongi pouts as you continue to crack up over his brazen observation. “I mean I guess designing romance novel covers isn’t the most conventional job, but it pays the bills and it’s pretty fun.”

“Romance novels?” Yoongi widens his eyes comically, “Don’t say that around the boss lady, she’s obsessed with them.”

“I heard that,” A yell sounds from the back room, “And I’m demoting you!”

“I’m demoted just by being associated with you!” Yoongi calls back.

You think you hear his boss mutter something about shoving a branch of redbud (betrayal) up Yoongi’s ass but you can’t be sure. Yoongi walks around the counter to lead you around the shop.

“What are you looking for, (y/n)?” His gaze is heated as it rests on you, and you bask in its glory.

“I’m good with whatever you recommend,” You shrug, “I’m in your hands.”

“Not yet,” Yoongi mutters under his breath; and before you can question that remark, he stalks off down an aisle, practically mowing down innocent shoppers. You trail after him, watching as he seems to be picking flowers at random. However, once he brings them all up front to arrange them, the flowers combine effortlessly into a beautiful bouquet.

“Wow,” You say softly, admiring the colorful arrangement before you, “This is beautiful, Yoongi. What kind of flowers are they?”

Yoongi rapidly fires off a number of flowers, most of which you had never even heard of before: honeysuckle and alstroemeria flowers (devotion), lilies of the valley (return of happiness), and petunias (your presence soothes me).

As you hand him the company card to ring up your purchase, you notice a stray flower set aside from the bunch. “That one didn’t fit with the rest?” You joke, pointing to the multi-petaled pink flower.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Obviously not, (y/n). That one is for you.”

You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle, “Well, excuse me for not being an expert, flower boy.”

He groans at the nickname, shaking his head in disgust. But, you see his lips twitching. God, he is so cute. You almost don’t even know how you had been intimidated by him at first. Even his tattoos and piercings are endearing to you now. You see them as a layer of protection he has in order to protect his soft heart.

Yeah, you are fucking whipped.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your growing infatuation, you glance down. The tip jar catches your attention, and you grin immediately as you read today’s inscription: “Yoongi’s Nap Fund: One Dollar = One Nap”.

“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi warns, but it’s too late. You shove another ten dollar bill inside.

“Goddamn you,” Yoongi sighs, and the way he says it sounds like a confession. And you are so losing your marbles. And your job. You catch sight of the clock hanging on the back wall, and you are so, so late to get back to the office.

Cursing softly, you grab the bouquet and accept the flower Yoongi extends out to you, “Thanks, flower boy. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

With that, you rush out the door, pulling a full Yoongi as you ruthlessly storm past customers on your way out. You unknowingly leave Yoongi in your dust, staring at you with what can only be affection.

When you get home after your shift later that night, you quickly put your new flower in a mason jar with water and admire its beauty. After a quick google search, you identify the flower as a camellia.

You fail to read further. But, if you had, you would have discovered the meaning of the flower Yoongi had gifted to you… My destiny is in your hands.

The next few weeks pass in a flurry of flowers - each prettier than the last. But that could just be the rose-tinted glasses you’ve been walking around with ever since you met Yoongi. You had visited Of Fern & Freesia such an embarrassing amount of times that you figured you should have a frequent flyer card.

But, who in their right mind could blame you when men like Min Yoongi exist? That’s right, you are on a full name basis now courtesy of one of Yoongi’s latest tip jars: “Support Min Yoongi in purchasing an off button for Jeon Jungkook”.

With every visit came a new flower and a new post-it note on his tip jar. For instance, last Monday Yoongi gave you two stock flowers (you will always be beautiful to me), to which you immediately clowned him on for buying you stocks. He had just shaken his head at you - a common reaction from Yoongi that you had been on the receiving end of too many times to count. On that day, you had shoved a twenty dollar bill in the jar labeled: “New headphones for Yoongi’s silent, sad and lonely ears”.

This Tuesday you had arrived at the shop right at closing. Your job had required you to stay for a late meeting because Darryl had fucked something up with his latest project. It’s honestly a wonder how he hasn’t been fired yet. After the meeting ended, you had practically run out of the office to make it to see Yoongi in time. When you stepped into the shop, you had been greeted with a growly yell of “We’re closed! Get lost!” And then when Yoongi came storming towards the front, he’d skittered to a halt, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words.

You had just shyly waved like an idiot and then had turned to leave, only to be tugged back inside by Yoongi. “Come on,” He had said lowly, seeming quite exasperated with you, “I have your fix.” He had held your wrist all the way up to the counter as you blushed profusely behind him. He had handed you a zinnia (I mourn your absence), and you had added a couple five dollar bills to his jar simply entitled: “Do it. You won’t.”

And, finally, yesterday you had made sure to visit on time, clocking out of work at 5:00PM exactly. Your boss had even asked if you had a hot date. God, you had fucking wished. In all your hurry to get over to Of Fern & Freesia, you had forgotten one important piece of information that had been made crystal clear the moment Yoongi had locked eyes on you - you needed to do laundry.

Now, this might seem like an odd and offhand comment, but it meant that you had been wearing your more formal work clothes out of necessity. A form fitting pencil skirt with a tucked in button up blouse - both of which were on the tighter side from not being worn enough - paired with your favorite stilettoed ankle boots had been your outfit of choice and your last resort.

You had clicked and clacked your way up to the counter and had almost turned right back around at the look Yoongi had given you. His eyes had been the darkest you’d ever seen. You hadn’t quite been able to read the storm of emotions within them. Had it been anger? Annoyance? Attraction?

God, you had prayed it was the last.

When you had made it to Yoongi, he had let out a harsh breath before turning away from you for a moment. “Hey, flower boy,” You had said tentatively, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just peachy,” He had muttered, slamming down a few flowers on the counter.

“O-o-okay,” You had responded, drawing out the word. You had stared quizzically at Yoongi as he fiddled with his rings, looking more on edge than you had ever seen him before. His eyes had flicked over your body, and then finally he had met your eyes.

“Sorry,” He had grumbled out, “You just caught me off guard. These are for you.”

As Yoongi had gathered the flowers he had slammed down on the counter, you had realized you still had your hair up and fastened with your stylus. Tugging it out of your hair, you had tousled your hair with your fingers for a bit and then had shoved the stylus in your bag. You had thought you had heard Yoongi choke slightly, but your ears surely had been playing tricks on you.

You had grinned at him as you grabbed the flowers from his outstretched hands and then tucked a twenty in his tip jar inscripted with: “Help Yoongi endure Kim Seokjin’s presence for three hours.”

Later that night, you had realized that you really should have brushed up on your flower knowledge sooner because apparently the flowers he had given you were peach blossoms (I am your captive). While their meaning is still unbeknownst to you, you now appreciate the pun wholeheartedly.

You had even tried to see him tonight, but he hadn’t been working for some reason. It’s hard not to assume the worst. Is he on a date? Oh god, has he had a girlfriend this whole time? A boyfriend? A partner? You almost call up your friend Jackson to cancel on his music event because all you want to do is sit down on your couch with the two men who will never let you down - Ben and Jerry.

But, you can't.

Jackson would hunt you down and drag you there himself if he had to. He had done that very thing when you tried to bail on his last party. It hadn’t been your fault that you considered a midweek celebration of his five point increase on his credit score to be extra as hell. But that is just Jackson, and you adore him for it.

You met Jackson through your job. He sometimes models for the book covers that your company produces; because, let’s be real, Jackson is a whole snack. Unfortunately, you seem to be attracted to boys on the surlier side as opposed to those on the sunshine side of the spectrum.

Therefore, you and Jackson are great friends, and he brings out (READ: forces out) your more social side. Tonight, he is MCing a local music show at one of the bars downtown. It’s apparently some sort of open mic night. You just hope your ears are all in one piece when you return home.

The bar is crowded as hell as you slip through its doors. The entire back area has been converted into a stage, and you notice Jackson getting ready to begin MCing. Of course, he spots you immediately, waving incessantly. You can’t help but smile back widely and wave.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you luckily spy a free barstool with a decent view of the stage. Quickly claiming it as yours, you order a beer and settle in for the night. Your eyes drift across the crowd, seeing some familiar faces of musicians you had seen before at events like this.

You even think you see the woman from Of Fern & Freesia in the back corner, but that’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. Your attention is brought back to the stage as Jackson begins to announce the general lineup for the night and then the first performer.

As you listen to the first performance, your heart aches. The musician’s ballad is slow and soulful, its lyrics deep and jarring. What you wouldn't give to feel a love like that, too feel so deeply for another person and to have that returned unconditionally. Again, your mind turns to the damned flower boy who has been ruling your thoughts lately. And as the song ends, you clap along with the crowd like you hadn’t just planned out your entire future with a boy you had met just a handful of times.

You watch as Jackson introduces the next performance - some group called ‘Bangtan’ featuring some dude named ‘Suga’. What kind of name is that? A stage name, you hope.

Five boys jump onto the stage, and the crowd goes fucking wild. As you assess the boys with your own two eyes, you see the hype. They’re hot as fuck.

Their performance begins with two of the boys singing. Your eyebrows raise as their sweet voices grace your ears. You almost fall into a sense of security as their vocals envelop you. And then the rapping begins.

Your jaw drops all the way down to the pits of Hades as you take in the sight of what can only be Yoongi, your sweet fucking flower boy, spitting crazy hot fire alongside two other beautiful boys. Had you somehow eaten an edible unknowingly on your way over here? Have you teleported into an alternate universe? Have you travelled into another dimension? Have you fallen into the fucking upside down?

God, he looks so fine. In all the times in the flower shop, you had only seen him in plain t-shirts, black jeans, and an apron. Therefore, your mind is fucking blown at the way Yoongi is wearing the shit out of a long white t-shirt, ripped blue jeans, a white and silver jacket, and silver chains.

The boy is sauntering around the stage like he fucking owns it, all cocky and brash. Your attention is riveted by the sheer talent before you, but your sanity is in shambles. He drags a hand through his messy hair and his undercut peeks out from underneath. Damn, that hairstyle suits him well.

It seems the performance is over both too soon and not soon enough. And when Yoongi stays on stage all by himself, you silently pray to any higher power out there that you survive this. The low sound of the bass fills the bar as Yoongi lazily nods to the opening beats of whatever he plans on performing.

Almost by fate, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours. They widen as they take you in, and you are absolutely certain you also resemble an owl as you stare back. Like the dork that you are, you lift your beer up in a silent toast to him, and your stomach flips as his lips quirk.

And then he starts. You cannot look away. Somehow Yoongi rapping solo is just as good as the previous performance with the four others. It might even be better; but, then again, you are insanely biased at this point.

As he performs, you lose the ability to speak, to cheer alongside the crowd. The way Yoongi commands the stage with his words, his presence, his talent is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever seen. The looks he sends you definitely don’t help. You might actually melt into a puddle on this very floor.

And you nearly do as Yoongi’s song ends and he sends you a wink as he hops off stage. God, you need to get it together before you track the boy down, tug him to you by his silver chains, and kiss the hell out of him and his talented mouth.

Yeah, you need to leave ASAP. Shooting Jackson a text, you leave a twenty on the bar and haul ass out of there.

How are you supposed to face Yoongi after this? You can’t even pretend it didn’t happen because he had seen you. If you don’t go back to the shop, he might think you hated his performance. But, if you do go back to the shop, you’ll have to face the boy who had destroyed your ovaries on stage in front of multiple dozens of people.

Lord, you are so fucking screwed.

Saturday and Sunday pass with many more existential breakdowns; and by the time Monday arrives, you decide that - fuck it - you are going to do some recon.

You email your boss that you are running a bit late and head over to the flower shop. It is barely 9:00AM when you strut through the doors.

The woman you had seen once before startles as you burst in, “Oh hey, it’s you! Um, Yoongi doesn’t work until later.”

You swear you turn fifty shades of maroon, “I-I know.”

She also blushes, “Right, sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet. How can I help you? Another bouquet?”

Before you can answer her, a boy bounds through the door holding two steaming coffee cups. He looks eerily familiar, but you can't quite place where you have seen him before.

“Morning, noona!” The boy beams at the woman, and then belatedly realizes you are also there. “Aish, sorry!” You gape as he somehow becomes small, huddling by his ‘noona’. “I didn’t realize you had a customer already.”

“That’s alright, Jungkookie,” She smiles at the admittedly cute boy who is now scrutinizing you for some reason.

“Aha!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I know you! You’re Yoongi-hyung’s g—”

The woman grabs Jungkook’s ear before he can continue, “Ignore him. Please.” She shoots the boy a dark look that sends him pouting.

You try your best, but the words are already flying through your mind. Yoongi-hyung’s girl? His girl insert-space-here friend? His gremlin? His goddess divine? His fucking Go-Gurt?

The possibilities are too endless; and so you pull a Spongebob and burn the memory from your brain for the sake of your rationality. You quickly grab the first flower you see - a love-in-a-mist (perplexity) - and pay for it before jetting out the door.

Your feelings? Unstable.

Your recon mission? Unsuccessful.

Your inevitable face-off with Yoongi? Unavoidable.

“I heard you came by yesterday morning.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, barely having crossed the threshold of the flower shop before Yoongi slides right in front of you. “Holy sweet mother of god, Yoongi! Have you been lurking by the door just to scare me like this?”

Yoongi’s gaze darts around, decidedly not looking at you. “No?” He tries. You don’t let him succeed.

“Oh, really...” You arch an eyebrow and try to step around him, but Yoongi just matches your movements - effectively blocking you from advancing further.

“Stop trying to distract me,” He growls. His frown is admittedly cute instead of intimidating in the way he probably intends. “Why did you visit yesterday morning instead of last night?”

It’s your turn to avoid eye contact as you look for any possible avenue for escape. Yoongi gives you no room to budge or even any time to answer as he continues to question you. “Could it be…” He leans closer to you, “That you didn’t like what you saw on Friday?”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Yoongi grows closer still, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “Or maybe… it’s that you did like it.”

Before you risk it all and pounce on him while he’s working, you pull a spin move around Yoongi that would even make Lebron proud. Trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, you power-walk away from him, calling over your shoulder, “Yes, I liked it, okay? God.”

You weave your way between the shelves of flowers with Yoongi trailing your every move. That little shit is relentless in his pursuit. You shoot him an evil eye between two buckets of flowers that he steadfastly ignores, “What did you like about it?” Yoongi grins widely, “Come on, tell me. Tell me. Just tell me, tell me, tell m—” You round the aisle he is on and clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Min Yoongi, for the love of reese’s peanut butter cups, shut your mouth.” Your glare strengthens as you can just tell he’s smirking underneath your hand. It’s difficult to ignore the plushness of his lips pressed against your palm. Did he just lick his lips? With your palm over them?

“I liked the collaboration you did with Jungkook and the other boys,” You shoot back at him, desperate to take him down a peg, “It was cute.” With a victorious smile at his darkening expression, you tug your hand away and turn to walk away. But déjà vu strikes as Yoongi’s hand envelops your wrist.

He pulls you back into his chest as he leans down. You can feel his words flow from his chest as he murmurs, “Oh really? And did you know that Jungkook is happily in a relationship? What a bummer.”

“Uh, I don’t recall asking,” You retort, “But that’s great for Jungkook. Should I send him a card in congratulations?”

“Fuck, you are so frustrating,” Yoongi groans and lets out an exasperated laugh, “Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Undoubtedly,” You grin like the menace you are.

Sighing, Yoongi presses closer to you. “(Y/n),” His lips brush against your ear, “What did you like about me?”

The way that Yoongi’s scent wraps around you, the way his lips move against your skin, the way his words drip with sensual intent makes you cave almost immediately. “Well, you had some fire bars, bro,” You blurt out.

He stills for a second and then a laugh bubbles up from his chest. You pout as he doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Hey,” You complain, “I thought that’s what all the youngsters are calling it these days.”

Yoongi laughs harder, “Oh my god, please stop. I’m going to break a rib from laughing too hard.”

You sniff, “Well, consider that the first and last compliment you will get from me. Ever.”

That shuts him up real quick. “Aw, babe,” He whines, following you as you move towards the counter in the back of the shop. Thank god there are no other customers to witness your complete degeneration into Min Yoongi Trash™.

You slouch against the counter as you reach it, turning to face him. “Don’t ‘aw, babe’ me, babe. Now, get me my flower.”

Your sass does nothing but bring a smile to Yoongi’s face, and your frown deepens.

“I know just the thing,” He smirks.

You don’t trust it. At all.

Yoongi goes behind the counter and grabs a little potted flower from behind the register. He pushes it over to your side slowly. “It’s a potato vine flower (you are delicious),” He says, like that explains everything. “It reminds me of you.”

You gape at the admittedly pretty triad of flowers intertwined together in the small silver pot. “A flower with potato in its name reminds you of me?” Your eyes narrow down into slits as you stare at him.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes.” His lips quirk at your growing ire.

“Hmph,” You turn up your nose, “Well, I will take it as a compliment. Potatoes are great, versatile, and goddamn tasty.”

“Indeed,” Yoongi smiles, running a hand through his hair. The rings adorning his fingers glisten under the shop’s lights, and you cannot help but follow his hands as they once again return to his sides.

You can feel your face warming as indecent thoughts of his hands on you fly through your brain. As your gaze remains lowered, it falls upon the tip jar. Today, it reads: “Help Yoongi fulfill his dream… of doing absolutely nothing”.

Before Yoongi can stop you, you shove a twenty into the jar. “Thanks for the potato plant, Yoongi,” You try to hide your smile as he - as predicted - gets into a huff over your incorrect identification.

“It’s a potato vine flower!” He yells after you as you walk away, “You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that!”

“Po-tay-to, po-tat-oh,” You call back to him, laughing as you ignore his groan of protest. Provoking Yoongi might just become your new favorite hobby.

Work consumes your next few days and prevents you from visiting your lovely little flower boy. Obviously, that has contributed to your mood taking a turn for the worse. But, it’s also done a steep nosedive because fucking Darryl is back at it again with his misogyny. You really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but here you are, surrounded by cleaning supplies, one concerned model, and one indifferent photographer.

Your joint project is culminating tomorrow - book cover proposal for one of the industry’s top romance authors. The one job, the one fucking job, you had given Darryl was to buy props. And guess what Darryl had gotten? Fucking mops.

“I thought you just wanted to clean or some shit,” He had said and then had the nerve to shrug.

Oh, you are going to clean alright. Clean him right out of his office, you will. Using him as the broom you personally sweep the floor with.

Now, your cover model Jinyoung is here, and there is nothing to make this shoot interesting. Jinyoung, one of Jackson’s close friends and fellow model, awkwardly tries to comfort you as you stew in your rage in the corner of the studio.

“What are we going to do?” You cry for the tenth time, getting ready to either burst into tears or to burn the building to the ground. At least Darryl had made himself scarce ever since you tore into his ass for a solid fifteen minutes. Honestly, that had been the highlight of your day.

“Are there any props around here?” Jinyoung suggests. You look around the studio only to find the photographer Mina scrolling through her phone and an assortment of lighting fixtures against the white backdrop. Suddenly, your gaze snaps back to Mina - more specifically to her floral patterned shirt.

“Come with me,” You grab Jinyoung’s hand and tug him out the door, “Mina, I’ll be back in ten!”

The photographer sends a thumbs up, and you and Jinyoung are on your way. “Where are we going?” He chuckles as you keep tugging him along out of the building and down the street.

“We are going to improvise,” You grit out as you stomp towards your destination, hand still grasping Jinyoung’s tightly. Finally, you arrive at Of Fern and Freesia. “We’re getting flowers,” You declare and enter the shop with Jinyoung in tow.

“Alright then,” He mutters, probably thinking that he doesn't get paid enough for this. And honestly neither do you - especially when you lock eyes with Min Yoongi and his face looks like thunder. You become hyper-aware that you are still clutching onto Jinyoung as Yoongi’s eyes fall to focus on your clasped hands. His jaw tightens.

And then his expression clears like nothing had even happened.

Your heart beats fast in your chest as you watch as Yoongi turns and walks into the back room of the shop without a backwards glance.

Had that been a display of jealousy just now? It could not have been. Nope.

You shove this whole thing aside. You aren’t Yoongi’s anything. Just like he isn’t yours.

You clasp Jinyoung’s hand tighter as you haul him towards a selection of roses. “What do you think of any of these?” You ask Jinyoung and point to the different colored roses.

“Uh, they’re nice,” Jinyoung doesn’t seem too committed to your search, but you pay that no mind. You have one goal: do not get fired. Actually, no. You have a second goal: get Darryl fired.

You pluck a red rose (love) and a burgundy rose (unconscious beauty) out of their respective buckets. Holding them up next to Jinyoung, you try to envision the book cover. But instead of seeing Jinyoung with rose petals raining down around him, you see Yoongi sprawled out across your bed with petals scattered around him.

Not the time, (y/n)!

Oh, god. The time!

You quickly grab the entire bucket of red roses and gesture for Jinyoung to grab the burgundy rose bucket. “We’ll get both and figure it out later,” You say, moving onwards towards the counter. Jinyoung follows you obediently.

When you make it to the counter, you both plop the buckets down.

“Couldn’t have just one, huh?”

You and Jinyoung jump as Yoongi appears from behind you as he rounds the counter.

“Had to take them both?” He continues, his expressionless face is worrisome. But, you do not have the time to analyze it or his confusing words right now.

“Uh, yeah? Yoongi, listen, we’re really late, and I need to pay quickly. I can explain later. Please.”

Your voice cracks on your last word, and Yoongi’s blank expression softens slightly as he sighs, “Okay, (y/n).” He accepts your credit card that you have outstretched to him and rings your flowers up.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re a lifesaver,” You say in a tiny voice, going to grab your wallet when you realize you don’t actually have cash on you right now. You’ll have to come back later.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Jinyoung says, giving Yoongi that classic headnod that ‘bros’ do.

Yoongi shoots Jinyoung one of the iciest glares you have ever seen; and yet, somehow, Jinyoung just smiles without a care.

“You’re welcome, (y/n),” Yoongi replies, handing you back your card along with the receipt. “Oh, I also have flowers for you - for both of you.” He snags two different flowers from the shelf behind the counter and holds one out to each of you.

You accept the pretty white flower which Yoongi calls a polyanthus lily (pleasures that inevitably cause pain), while Jinyoung gingerly accepts a cluster of smaller yellow flowers. Yoongi smugly declares them to be tansies (I declare war against you).

Thanking Yoongi again, you rush out of the shop with a bucket of roses in your hands and a model hot on your heels. You have a shoot to save and a bone to pick. It is time to get shit done.

Seven exhausting hours later, you emerge from your workplace with a sense of bitter accomplishment. Your shoot with Jinyoung had gone as well as it could have given the circumstances.

You and Mina had gotten as creative as you could have with the hundred roses you had bought from Of Fern & Freesia. You had showered Jinyoung in rose petals, you had made him place a rose between his teeth, and you had him extend one flower out like the Bachelor.

God, if you hadn’t been half in love with your flower boy you might have kissed Jinyoung for being such a good sport. Instead, you had settled for personally calling his agency to sing his praises and for making a note to send him a bonus.

Another win had come later this afternoon when you had been lucky enough to bear witness to Darryl’s termination. Your boss had been horrified to hear about Darryl’s fuckup and about all of the other bullshit he had put you through. As it turns out, she had already been keeping tabs on him for similar suspicions and this had been all the evidence she needed to seal the deal.

The look on Darryl’s face had been life changing. It had carried you through the last few hours of editing and arranging the final book cover proposal.

And so, finally, you drag your tired ass back to Of Fern & Freesia to both tip Yoongi for earlier and to give an explanation for the brevity of your afternoon visit. That is, if he is even still working at this hour. The shop is nearing its close, and you just hope you aren’t too late.

The bell chiming is the only sound that greets your ears as you enter the shop. The place is absent of the customers who usually roam around the aisles, examining flowers. Undeterred, you walk towards the back of the shop.

Yoongi is slouched over the counter, typing away furiously on his phone. He doesn’t look up as you approach as it seems he’s lost in his own virtual world.

“Paging florist Yoongi,” You call softly and smile as Yoongi is finally the one to get jumpy.

“Yah,” He cries, slapping a hand to his heart, “What are you trying to do, woman?”

“I’m trying to greet you, duh,” You roll your eyes, biting back a grin.

“All alone this time?” Yoongi sets his phone on the counter, turning his full attention - and sass - to you.

“Alone? Please,” You scoff, “My FBI agent is surely tailing me somewhere nearby.”

“There goes that mouth,” Yoongi mutters darkly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. He leans closer to you over the counter, “Tell me, (y/n)... Does your boyfriend like it when you talk back like that, too? Or is that all that attitude just for me?”

You mirror his actions, leaning over the counter and bringing your face closer to his. “He would like it... If he existed.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing, “Really? Then who was that boy you came in here with earlier? So you’re saying that you hold hands and buy flowers with just anyone?” His attention on you is hard and absolute, but you don’t flinch.

You lean closer, lips only an inch or two away from his. “Hm,” You say, in mock confusion, “I didn’t realize that the last Daylight Savings had shifted us all the way back to the 14th century. Oh, wait. It’s still 2020, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Before you can blink, Yoongi’s hands shoot out to cradle your face and his lips are on yours. A gasp slips between your lips, and Yoongi takes advantage of your shock to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he mutters, “You are so goddamn infuriating. You walk around here looking like a fucking thirst trap when I have to be Professional Yoongi™, and then you say these absurd things that only make me want you more, and then you show up at my music show and almost make me forget every word I have ever known, and now the only melodies and lyrics that run through my brain relate to you, and so I am just losing my goddamn mind over you—”

You kiss him. “Shut up, you giant adorable idiot,” You mumble against his lips, “And for the record, I liked you first.”

Yoongi pulls away from you and shakes his head, “No way, babe. I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you standing at this counter for the first time last month.”

You cross your arms, “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve liked you since you walked out of that back room right there to help me for the first time last month. So, it looks like we’re even.”

“Even?” Yoongi grins, ducking down to pull something off the shelf below the counter. “That’s cute. But, I win,” He straightens, placing a bigger tip jar that you’ve never seen before onto the counter between you. Slowly, he turns it around so that the post-it note attached to it is displayed for you: “Cute girl (Y/n) and Yoongi’s Date Fund”.

“Wow, am I not cute anymore?” You joke, looking up at Yoongi who rolls his eyes.

“That was before I knew your name, babe, and (y/n) is too beautiful a name not to be written at every opportunity.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. Your cheeks flush traitorously as you smile, “You’re so full of shit, Min Yoongi.”

“Am not,” He argues, moving around the counter over to your side. Just when you think he’s trying to get closer to you, he moves past you.

“Where are you going?” You trail after him, pausing when you notice he’s pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Your eyes widen to their full extent as you watch him lock up the shop and flip around the sign to read: “Closed”.

Yoongi turns back around. “Come here, (y/n),” He says, his voice deep, his lips tugging into a smirk.

You resort to your instinctual reaction whenever someone issues you an order, “Make me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Yoongi prowls towards you. You back up with every step he takes, and before you know it, your back is up against the counter. Yoongi’s arms cage you in on either side of your body. He’s so close. The heat from his body sears into you and you think you might just faint from proximity.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper as Yoongi’s head dips to place soft kisses along your neck.

“I want you,” He says without a pause or hesitation, “In any way you’ll give me.”

“And would I get you in return?” You sigh as Yoongi sucks lightly on the skin right below your ear.

You feel his smile before he answers, “Babe, you already have me.”

Your heart swells. He is yours. But in true (y/n) fashion you cannot help but to fuck with him further, “Ah, well that just disincentivizes giving myself to you. Since I already have you, why should I let you have me?”

Yoongi bites your neck lightly in response to your teasing, and you are too surprised to catch the moan before it winds its way out of your mouth. “Fuck, baby, I need to hear you make that sound again,” Yoongi growls, his hands gripping your thighs before lifting you onto the counter. “Let me have you,” He begs, pulling his head back to stare at you. His pupils are so blown out, and you are certain yours are the same way.

His hands are still gripping your thighs as you clench them together as best you can with Yoongi in between.

“Oh,” Yoongi murmurs, looking too pleased, “Is my baby desperate for my touch already?”

“Puh-lease,” You reply, “Don’t act like you aren’t hard as fuck right now, Min.”

“That’s besides the point. I’ve been hard for you since you walked in here in that tight as fuck skirt and those fucking heels,” Yoongi scowls. “And then you had the audacity to take your hair down like some sort of seductress. I had to jerk off like three times that night.”

“Oh,” You grin evilly, “You mean… like this?” You reach up to pull the pencil out of your topknot, successfully sending your hair tumbling down your shoulders. You shake your head slightly to help the strands settle and bask in Yoongi’s dark expression complete with clenched jaw.

“That’s it,” Yoongi’s hands slide under your thighs, and suddenly you are thrown over his shoulder.

“Yoongi!” You cry as he carries you into the back room of the shop.

“Shut it, you,” Yoongi spanks your ass once, and you let out a tiny squeak before you are set down on a marble island amidst a room full of flowers, ribbons, and anything even remotely related to bouquet-making.

You’re too distracted by the beauty that surrounds you to notice that Yoongi is grabbing something from a nearby shelf. He returns to stand in front of you once more. “Let me taste you,” He says as if he’s asking for the time of day.

“If you must,” You feign indifference, but your smile betrays you.

“Clothes off,” Yoongi says, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. You don’t think twice before stripping out of your blouse and unbuttoning your dark jeans.

“You’re gonna have to help me, Yoongi,” You sigh as you stare down at the lack of room Yoongi is giving you to stand to take off your pants.

“It would be my honor,” Yoongi replies, and you groan at his dramatics. “Ass up,” He commands. You lean back onto your elbows and lift your ass up so that he can take your jeans off successfully.

“Damn, baby,” His eyes burn into you as he takes in the sight of your body covered just barely by your lace bra and panties. Tugging a scrap of ribbon from his pocket, Yoongi approaches you, “Can I blindfold you?”

“Kinky,” You breathe, nodding. Yoongi grins and gently ties the soft ribbon around your head, effectively surrounding you in darkness.

“Lay back,” He murmurs. You do so, shivering slightly as your skin meets the coolness of the marble. A soft kiss is placed to your cheek before you feel a brush of something else cross your neck.

You gasp as what you can only imagine could be a flower is dragged along your body, dipping in between your breasts, down across your stomach, ghosting over your hips. All of your senses are buzzing, hyper-aware of everything but your sight.

And so when you feel a finger slowly stroke you over your panties, you let out a gasp. “Yoongi,” You moan, your hips shifting in vain to bring his hand closer.

“Say my name again,” He growls, and you hear a snip along with a quick touch of metal.

“Yoongi,” You chastise, “Did you just fucking cut my underwear off?”

“Hm, not quite the tone I was asking for but it’ll do,” The grin is apparent in his voice and you open your mouth to lay into him when his tongue slides between your folds.

“Fuck,” You sigh, your hand winding down your body to clutch at his hair, “Yoongi, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Yoongi mumbles, and then you are suddenly moved closer to the edge of the island and his mouth is on you.

His lips kiss over every inch of your pussy, his tongue flicks out every so often to drag over your clit. It’s slow and torturously sweet. Your back arches as Yoongi suddenly sucks lightly at your swollen bud.

“Yoongi.”

That sets him off. You feel Yoongi’s finger tease your entrance, lightly pushing in and out as his mouth continues to suck and caress your pussy.

“Please.”

His finger sinks into you, and you curse, moaning Yoongi’s name as he continues to push in and out of you. Though your vision is taken, you begin to see white as you hurtle towards the precipice.

Another finger is thrust inside you and you cry out. “Fuck, baby,” Yoongi growls, “You are so wet for me, so tight, so delicious. Tell me when you’re close. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuck, he’s filthy. You think you might love him.

“I’m already close, you little shit,” You groan as he sucks your clit harshly, making you somehow see stars.

Yoongi immediately switches things up, his tongue sinks inside you as his fingers rub your clit in quick, light circles.

You come with a scream, feeling Yoongi sucking and lapping up everything you give him. He carries you through your orgasm, and finally you sink back onto the marble.

And then you rip off the blindfold.

“My turn!” You grin, blinking furiously as your eyes readjust to the light of the room. You sit up. Yoongi is still kneeling between your legs, gazing up at you with wet lips and a feral expression.

“Your turn?” He arches an eyebrow and stands. You take advantage of his movements and hop down off the island.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes,” You throw his own words from a few days ago back in his face.

You can tell he remembers when he laughs slightly, his eyes crinkling adorably.

“Now get naked, Min Yoongi,” You command, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the ground.

Yoongi groans at the sight of you and then whips his shirt off, throwing it at you.

Laughing, you catch it and chuck it to the side. Before you know it, Yoongi stands naked before you. His torso is also covered in ink, his nipples are pierced, his cock is hard.

You slowly walk over to him, excited by how the tables have turned now. “Blindfold?” You ask, dangling the satin ribbon in front of you.

He shakes his head swiftly, “No, I need to see you.”

You grab his cock and revel in the hiss of breath he sucks in, “Baby boy, I don't think you understand who is in charge here.”

“Fuck,” He moans, both at your words and at the slow movements of your hand along his length.

“Now, since you made me come particularly hard, I’m going to give you another option: I tie your wrists.”

Yoongi looks pissed, “I have to pick one?”

You take your hand away, and he caves instantly. “Fine! Tie my wrists.”

“Good boy,” You smirk, “Now lay on the island like I just did.” You watch as he listens, grumbling all the while about how he wanted to touch you and how this was some bullshit. He’d learn.

Finally, Yoongi is in position and gives out a big sigh like he just went through so much effort. So extra.

You make quick work of his wrists, tying them above his head loosely. “Let me know it gets to be too much for you, okay?” You kiss him softly and swiftly and smile as he tries to chase your lips as you pull back.

You hop onto the island and slowly kneel over Yoongi. Your knees are on either side of his calves as you lean down, arching your back so your ass is high in the air, and then you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth.

The moan that Yoongi emits is so sexy that you almost skip right to sitting on his dick - almost. Instead, you just speed up, swirling your tongue around him and cradling his balls in your palm.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi rasps out, his eyes squeezed shut, “Your fucking mouth.”

You smile around him and take him further inside your mouth. Yoongi chokes out more curses than you have ever heard before. And when you swallow around him, he groans, “I’m gonna come. Wanna come on your tits.”

You release him with a pop. “No,” You say, sitting back on your heels.

Yoongi’s neck strains as he looks down at you, “Please, (y/n), baby, I need you. Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His head falls back as he smirks slightly, “I can’t believe that you just sucked my dick and that I actually got to eat you out just now. Damn, I don’t know how I got so lucky. Maybe I saved someone famous in my past life. Or maybe I was Spiderman—”

Moving quickly, you settle further up his body, hovering over his cock. Your hand covers Yoongi’s mouth. “Are you malfunctioning? Oh my god, I broke you. And to think I was going to sit on your dick next… That’s too bad. I don't think you can handle it.”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he stares up at you, “Mmph!” His words are muffled by your palm.

“What’s that?” You tease, leaning down to slowly suck on his nipple, swirling the piercing around with your tongue. “You still want me to?”

This time, you remove your hand so he can reply fully. As soon as your palm leaves, Yoongi cries, “Please, please, please, baby. Take me inside you. I’ll make you feel good, I promise!”

“Well,” You straighten, grabbing his cock and lining him up with your entrance, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Slowly, you sink down. Inch by inch you watch as Yoongi’s face scrunches up as he murmurs your name like a prayer. Finally, you take him all the way inside. “Well, how does it feel, baby?” You grin.

“Like fucking heaven,” He groans, his fists clenching above him as he tries to thrust into you as best he can.

“Relax, baby,” You place a palm on his chest, “Let me take care of you.” With that, you begin to move. Your hips swivel slowly at first and then pick up the pace. You feel him twitching inside you and you know that he’s already close from how well you sucked him off earlier.

You ride him hard, sliding up and down his hard cock and watching his face as you ruin him. His breathing is harsh and his legs begin shaking beneath you, “Fuck, shit, damn, baby, please.”

His words are a garbled mess as you clench down around him, beginning to feel your own orgasm rising. “Don’t you dare come yet, Min Yoongi,” You hiss, leaning back slightly to take him deeper.

“Baby-y, please.” You watch enraptured as a tear slips out of his eye. Yoongi’s abs are clenching and you know he is so fucking close to coming.

“Look at me,” You order, sliding a hand down your body to circle your clit. He listens and groans immediately at the sight of you.

“Watching you ride me makes me want to come even more!” He whines, but nevertheless keeps his eyes on you. You smile and moan softly as you continue to ride him, flicking your clit between your fingers. You’re close now.

Your movements become frantic as you bounce on his cock, your hips shifting over his. You hurtle towards your climax and you tighten around him, “Come.”

Immediately, you feel him come inside you, painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You light up as you come for the second time that night, your walls pulsing around his cock, milking him.

Yoongi is undone underneath you, his head is thrown back, throat on full display. He is muttering something about the sweetest pussy ever and wedding rings. And he looks so good that you can't resist laying down on top of him, kissing his neck. “You good, baby boy?” You smile in between kisses.

“I think you did break me,” He mumbles, his hands settling on your hips. Wait a second…

“How did you untie yourself?” You pout, relaxing into Yoongi’s chest as his hands rub your ass.

“Silk is slippery, babe,” You can practically hear his grin, “But not as slippery as your pus—”

“Min Yoongi!” You cry, hopping off of him. He whines as he slips out of you but then licks his lips as he notices his own cum dripping down your legs.

“Come here,” He crooks a finger at you.

“Make me,” You retort once again, smirking slightly.

He groans, “I don't think I can even move right now if I wanted to. But come on, sit on my face.”

“Wow, such language!” You slap a hand over your heart, “My delicate ears will never recover!”

“You’re the worst,” Yoongi laughs, easing up to sit. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“Nice,” You nod proudly, “Leave that review on Yelp, please.”

His dark eyes narrow, “Who else is leaving reviews, (y/n)?”

Laughing, you tug on Yoongi’s discarded t-shirt, “Oh, you know, the rest of my harem of flower boys.”

“What!” Yoongi makes a miraculous recovery as he jumps off the island and tugs you to him, “I’m your flower boy, baby. You’ll never need anyone else.”

Smiling widely up at him, you simply reply, “Okay, bloomer.”

a/n: flower meanings sourced from: The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz AND The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh [again, meanings differ depending on the source!)

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adam-memeleri · 3 years ago

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flowers

@wayhavensummer day 4

G Rating (they're just soft)

Nat x Detective (Hyacinth, she/they)

~800 words

It started with a rose. A pink one, to be specific.

A single, pink rose placed oh-so carefully on Hyacinth’s desk, with a note sitting beneath it. A single, perfect pink rose, with a single, perfectly written note reading ‘This reminded me of you,’ beneath it.

Hyacinth chuckles, tucking a fallen strand of equally pink hair behind her ear as her eyes trace over the lettering again and again and again. They fall into the chair behind the large desk, spinning in it in a quick, joyful circle. Their fingers caress the soft petals, the flower bending ever so slightly at the touch, with a smile just as soft on red-painted lips.

It’s all so perfect, so mesmerisingly beautiful, so unbelievably joyful, and so far from the typical day she had expected when she left this morning, winter boots laced up and thick jacked zipped tight. It’s happiness, even in the coldest of winter, and bleakest of days.

It’s happiness, the way that pale pink rose sits in an emptied out pencil cup for the rest of the day. It’s happiness, the way Hyacinth searches every corner of her apartment that night for a vase. It’s happiness, the way they can’t take their eyes off it, even when it’s wilted and brown.

---

Then it’s a small sunflower, yellow petals spreading like the sun, and they’re just as warm, too.

It’s resting on a stack of Hyacinth’s files when they enter, a shock of vibrance in their cold and dreary office. The petals blow in the wind from the air conditioner, looking alive and bright in the dead of January.

Hyacinth smiles to themself again, carefully untucks the note from beneath it again. ‘To brighten your winter,’ in looping letters that Hyacinth wants to trace until her finger can’t anymore.

She simply adores it, everything about it. The gesture, the flower, those letters. So much adoration, that it pounds in their chest, that it splinters their ribs and spills sunlight through the cracks.

So much adoration, that Hyacinth puts it on her coffee table this time.

---

Hibiscus is next, blooming in gradient shades of purple and white on Hyacinth’s doormat. She’s just returned from a day out shopping, and drops the bags where she stands.

The tip of a pale green fingernail follows the curve of it, follows the watercolour-like blending outwards from the center. “Cute,” they hum, lifting it carefully and cradling it in their palm. A proper envelope sits beneath it this time, and she slips it into her pocket as she stands.

Shopping bags spread out on the kitchen counters, they carefully undo the seal on the envelope, carefully unfold the parchment and carefully read the writing.

‘The clerk said that hibiscus means beauty. I think it’s quite fitting, don’t you? Yours Truly, Nat.’

“Even cuter.”

---

Daisy’s litter the desk when Hyacinth enters her office after a long day, the single lamp flicked on casting long shadows that stretch and stretch. They follow behind them, each of their movements that lead them to the scattered petals, the peaks of white standing out in the dark.

They enclose a letter, the same as before, with a shiny, red wax seal and all. They enclose it in the shape of a heart, sloping over papers and pens and the desktop’s keyboard.

“Cheesy,” Hyacinth grins to herself. And it is. Cheesy and innocent and sending a blush across the detective’s face.

‘I hope your night improves, Detective. I know you improved mine. Yours Truly.’

“Cheesy.”

Hyacinth adds the letter to their growing collection when they arrive home, gently placing it in the little, painted box alongside the others. The wildflowers adorning the sides in flowing rainbows shift in the light as she closes the lid, taking care that isn’t wholly necessary.

---

The red tulip stops Hyacinth’s heart right where it beats in their chest, blood as red as the flower coming to a halt.

She swallows, stops in her tracks and simply stares at the flower waiting for her on her beat-up doormat. It’s bright against the dingy floors of her apartment building, shining like a siren and just as alarming.

Their fingers wrap around the stem, snap up the folded note and shove the door open as quickly as they can.

‘May we speak tonight?’ stares back at her when the door swings shut, thudding against the frame, reverberating in her skull. A punctuation mark and a heart attack all in one.

---

Yarrow. The latest, but certainly not the last. Yarrow.

It rests in her pocket as she walks to her car, as she drops into her office chair, as she types out a report about a stolen mailbox. It rests above her heart, a slip of fabric away from where she feels it most.

‘I love you,’ they reread at lunch, on their break, when their shift ends.

“Love you too,” Hyacinth whispers back every time.

#this ones a bit late cuz of technical difficulties but oh well #wayhaven summer #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc fanfic #twc n #n sewell #nat sewell #natalie sewell #nat x detective #nat x mc #hyacinth fan #her names hyacinth so like. i feel like i had to akjdfhsjdf #kc writing

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yashimolala · 4 years ago

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⎡ where are you now? ⎦fushiguro t. & m.

★ part two of ⎡ can you hear me now? ⎦ ☆

❀ pairing: fushiguro megumi & fushiguro toji (familial)

❀ word count: 1,494 words

❀ genre: fluff/angst

❀ author’s notes: this is not incestuous in any manner.

❀ tags: character study, fushiguro toji-centric, introspection, purple prose, somewhat canon-compliant (?)

❀ description: the moments that were left at the back of the father and son’s minds, and the places where they could’ve been.

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Sunflowers.

Megumi’s eyes flutter to the sight of a delightful scar.

He knows this is a dream, but it was a real memory flashing in his eyes, one that he’s never been able to recall before.

The scar was graceful, stretching to its’ full beauty on a smile. It was straight, adorning the left side of the person’s mouth.

Slightly-chapped lips, rosy hues on glowing cheeks, and large, rough hands reaching out for him. And his safety in a delicate body is entrusted to their palms as he’s wrapped in strong, built arms.

He could not see the upper half of their face. It was a rather blurry vision he had.

But he could tell… they were joyous. Delighted. Glad. Genuinely happy. They smiled like it was the most beautiful moment of their life. Like his very existence was a miracle.

Tenderly cradling his small, fragile body; gently rocking him to a soft tune. He doesn’t know the song itself, but he loves the comfort it brings. The small humming is imprinted in his memory, a precious memento to cross at his heart.

Megumi then closes his eyes, drifting to a deep slumber, all the while listening to the serene sound.

He lets the darkness wash him over to a new dream.

Interlude.

Your smile rivals the vibrance of a sunflower, Ever brilliant and happy, Blooming with a vivid yellow power, That I can never exude.

Shining brighter than the glaring star in a summer night. Fiery blooms of beauty captivating me in its splendor, Always facing the direction of its Creator Like a lost sailor in search for a ray of light.

- Yashi

Aloë.

Megumi remembers getting ice cream in the mall when he was a child.

He was observing the strange tubs of bizarre flavors illustrated in posters; he seemed like he wanted to try them out.

His father was watching him from afar, hands shoved into his pants’ pockets. The man then sighs, “Stay in the bench over there.”

Megumi nods, sitting himself on the vacant furniture, unknowing of what he was planning.

The older male disappears from Megumi’s sight into the flood of crowds, not even uttering another word before leaving.

Minutes of swinging his legs back and forth were spent as he waited. Person after person passed by him, never sparing a glance but he felt like the eyes lurking from the shadows are on him, but at the same time, he feels like he’s within a void of empty crowds.

Just as he was to hop off and set out to search for his father, the man was right before him, handing down a triangular-looking biscuit with a building swirl of soft white.

The child looked astonished, wrapping his small hands around the cone, green eyes sparkling with the smooth, glistening frozen treat.

Toji just sits beside him, seemingly uninterested with legs spread wide, in comparison to the kid’s knees that were almost closed in a timid manner.

Megumi blinks once, before glancing down the ice cream, bringing the pointed tip of coldness to his lips, taking a small bite.

Chilled velvety mush melted into sweetness as he savors the flavor.

It’s a classic vanilla that his father could only afford.

The father glances to his side at once, watching a small smile stretch on the kid’s usually stoic expression.

“Is it good?”

“Anything that father gets me is the best.”

Toji then closes his eyes with a contented smile, clearing out the chatter of the crowds in the mall and etched Megumi’s smiling face into the back of his head.

Aster.

Toji sees the color of the skies on Megumi.

He could never forget the beady gaze of his child, often glimmering with curiosity that he could never unravel.

They glow with a glint of excitement and interest, with every thing it explores, may it be the old bookstore down the street, the trashed alleyways in their neighborhood, or the stray puppy that he saw in the park.

Toji sees the only blessing in his life.

Toji sees Megumi making his own blessings out of the world.

A small smile pulls on his lips as the child’s hand holds onto his larger one for reassurance, relishing in the sound of his laughter.

Megumi has his mother’s eyes, but he also has his own soul in those pair of sapphires. It was somewhat funny because everyday when Toji looked into the mirror, all he can see are soulless orbs of dread.

But now that he can see the life in his blessing’s eyes, he’s more than satisfied.

Azalea.

The first time Toji went out with Megumi’s mother, they eloped to the beach, where the color of their eyes can be found, symbolic of their persona as well.

When he takes the boy to the ocean, his eyes gleamed with excitement as he starts talking about the sea creatures he’s read about, like the starfish, the crabs, the seahorse and more.

His blue gaze was a living memory of his mother, reminding him of the calm ocean waves that came crashing on the grains of gold and the clear skies that rolled across the earth.

He notices his mussed hair that was disheveled by the salt water that soaked into their skin and takes a photo of the footsteps they’ve left on the shore before it’s washed away by the sweep of shallow water.

When he feels delicate fingers graze on his knuckles, his chest surges with euphoria upon seeing Megumi who held onto his hand with his small digits, lips stretching with a smile and wet lashes framing his face.

He wants to wake up every day to this shade of blue, the voice of his son filling his ears, to live in a moment that will last until the end of his time.

Interlude.

‘You look just like your mother.’

The man remarks as he glances at the shape of his hair — same black, same spike, same curl that framed over his features that was a tad softer than Toji’s.

‘I guess I do carry her tenderness well.’ Megumi brings up a hand to the expanse of his neck, averting his focus away, refusing to make eye contact with his father.

This does not go unnoticed by Toji, as his emerald gaze catches on Megumi’s ocean ones. They were a deep shade of blue, drowning in the abysmal depths of the sea, accompanied by the shadows.

He speaks again. You both have the same eyes.

‘Cause we are both exhausted.’ The younger male responds almost immediately, but it never came out in an exasperated manner. It escaped his lips as a gentle sigh.

Toji’s eyes travel down to explore more what he shared with his mother, halting by the slim phalanges that he wore.

‘And the hands.’ He adds.

‘We share the same wilting fingers.’ Megumi wearily says, demonstrating by shifting his digits into a hand gesture that he does not recognize, only familiar with the lines and curves that shaped his wrist.

‘But that rage, your mother doesn’t wear that anger.’

‘You’re right.’ His expression that was once serene contorts into one of madness, bathed in blood and the laughter that cascades from his lips is almost maniacal. ‘This rage is the one thing I get from my father.’

Sweet Pea.

Fushiguro Toji was not expecting to have the latter half of his plans ruined by the Gojo kid who went berserk after rising from death.

All he felt was unease, unease, utter unease.

Just when he thought he had thrown his feelings away, it all comes back to him with an excruciating ache to his chest, tugging painfully on his heartstrings.

All he remembers is clinging onto his wife’s back like a helpless beast, the joy he had when Megumi was born, raising him up until he was five and fuck, he wishes he could have seen him grow up more — deal with his teenage phase, watch him graduate, have a peaceful story of his own.

He longs for a life where he could hear about Megumi’s dreams, where they talk about what happens in his everyday life over dinner, where they could live as a small and happy family with Tsumiki.

But he can’t go back to that life, can’t return to where he left off, can’t have what he want anymore so what’s the point?

He looks into the long path that was stretched out on the other way, disappearing into forever. He’s afraid to say this is the end he’s reached, but deep inside, he knows that he’s already lost, deep in the restraint of his own pride, in the choice of path that he chose and in this battle.

So when he chooses his last words, he tells them to the white-haired teen in hopes that his child will at least be able to live a better life than he did.

He just hopes that his only blessing is okay.

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

The language of flowers:

❀ Sunflower = “The sunshine in your smile”/Radiance ❀ Aloe = Affection and grief ❀ Aster = Love and daintiness/Remembrance ❀ Azalea = Family ❀ Sweet Pea = Goodbye

Oh and please do keep in mind that, in the second interlude, the dialogues that are in italics belong to Rupi Kaur’s ‘Milk and Honey’.

additional notes: i said i’d write more of this so i did.

#fushiguro toji #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #character study #introspection #angst #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk angst #jjk toji #fsgr

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nevermore-ocs · 3 years ago

Text

Azrael x Plus-Sized!Reader: A Real Alpha

Author’s note: IT IS FINALLY DONE 9.3K WORDS OF THE FIRST PART OF AN X READER WITH THE ONE AND ONLY HUNTER ALIEN BOI AZRAEL!! Summary: After a painful break-up in between you and your previous partner, Azrael sees to it that you’re comforted and happy again to the fullest extent. Warnings: NSFW closer to the end THAT’S ALL-

“You do not have to shed any more tears for that mudak (asshole), (Name).”

Your ears nearly blocked that out, the sniffles staggering out of you with your body twitching in time your hitching breaths, Azrael’s words were almost muffled to you. “I-I’m sorry, Azrael,” you whimpered out, for what felt like the 50th times and like the numerous utterances before, he shook his head to brush off the apology, and his large, strong arm tightened around your waist and with gentle pushes urging you to snuggle your head onto his shoulder, he quietly spoke up again. “You have nothing to apologize for, little one, this is that cruel dog’s fault, not yours.” His hand, taking up most of the free space on your side, stroked slowly up and down, his digits lingering on your waist in soothing pets, it drew a shaky sigh from the depths of your chest. You at least attempted to even your breathing, but every rampant thought that rushed through your head and dug its way into your brain like a deadly spike and imprinted itself there. Any progress that you made of controlling yourself went down the drain, you felt the sobs start to rip through your body once more and on impulse, your arms shot out to Azrael and you clung onto him tightly, with your face buried into his broad chest. It felt like you were crying your eyes out, that if you kept going, you weren’t totally sure if you’d even have anymore tears to shed.

Azrael, overcoming the surprise of the swift, tight hug you threw around him, his open arms carefully closed around your frame in a much softer but warm hug, like as if he hugged you as tight as you were, he’d break you like a wilting flower with the gentlest breeze of wind bristling crumbling the weak, dead petals, but, his hands still traveled up and down the small of your back in slow, tender strokes, his digits taking a few moments to massage a certain spot in the middle of your tense, locked shoulder blades, surprisingly, it did make your rigid shoulders gingerly relaxed from their raised position, even if it was a gradual, crawling pace from the desired, fully rested goal, it was improvement, and even the tiniest amount was enough to make a gentle smile paint itself onto the alien’s face. “There you go, little one, there you go, you are safe, I swear it…” his low, accented voice rumbled through his chest, you felt it, what with your head nestled so much against him, his voice, as if it were a warm, quilted blanket, surrounded you in a comforting aura, to think that someone so dangerous, so otherworldly, would take the time out of his day to make sure that you didn’t cry over someone who didn’t deserve it, it surprised you, sure, but it made you happy more than you realized. Daxton was a dangerous place, humans being a smaller percentage of what roamed in the city’s streets, the fact that not only were you somehow good friends with the worst of the worst in this place, but you were currently being cradled in one of their arms definitely made you take a moment to compose yourself. You sniffled and tried to force your tears to halt for now to finally take a slow glance up at Azrael, the hunter alien who was from a distance icy planet who knows how far away, the same man who’s killed creature after creature with the very same tools that were petting your back and threading their fingers through your (hair color) tresses and taking those few extra steps to pet at your scalp before brushing back any lingering strands away from your face, sometimes you questioned to yourself how an alien could be so much kinder and sweeter than the humans you’re used to but after what happened, it didn’t take too much convincing anymore. If anything, humans could take a few lessons from Azrael in that department. You, at first, were going to sit back in the dip of Azrael’s lap and just let yourself relax, perhaps even drift off to sleep as crying took more energy out of you than you originally thought, but, that’s when your eyes really drifted over the alien’s features to take in even the smallest of details. He was the enticing combination of cute, almost boyishly so, and worn-out ruggedness with every hunt that he’s been through taking one toll after another on not only his body, but his mind too. You could only begin to imagine the story behind the three long scars that bore deep across the entire horizontal length of his face, across his sets of eyes, his nose, even his mouth. “Azrael?” You peeped up, your voice, sounding more level than it did, was quite gentle and quiet to the ear, but his talented, pointed ones instantly heeded and he turned his head to face you and his half-lidded, sweet gaze met yours again. “Yes, little one?” He responded with the same kind of light whisper as you. Your heart fluttered, his deep voice honey on your ears, you leaned further against him, your head tilting some to the side and it rested on one of his shoulders comfortably and you gazed up at him in a trance, you couldn’t describe it at first, your emotions left your mind a disoriented, fuzzy mess but this felt right, this warm closeness with him, how his large, strong arms fit around your full, curvaceous body with little effort, and just how he was taking so much time in the world to comfort you, to ensure that your tears would stop that you would rest well and content tonight. He didn’t have to do this for you, at all, it wasn’t his job to, but with how he carried himself right into your room and made himself at home to fully care for you and only you, it was almost as if he needed to or else it wouldn’t sit right with him in his head, in his heart. “You don’t think I’m too big, do you? I-I know this is kinda out of nowhere-well, n-not out of *nowhere* but s-still, I, heh, I know it’s not the most attractive thing in the world-” His hand lifted and he cupped his palm over your mouth to silence your words, and your surprised eyes flickered up to his face, and his taken aback expression read of quiet hurt, as if the question itself, when you uttered it, it insulted him. He, at first, silently shook his head and then he spoke up, “Not at all, little one! Why would I be bothered by it? Is beautiful, yes? Is more to love! A fool would be bothered by something as trivial as that, who would complain getting to hug every inch of you? If you were my woman, you would be getting your body worshipped by me every single day, whenever you asked for me to do so. The Gods graced this world, this universe, with the perfect form of you, there is nothing wrong with you,” you didn’t know what to say, your mouth was partially hung open, words hanging off of the cliff of your tongue but they didn’t take that plunge, so, they stayed stuck in your mouth and you couldn’t help but the stare that came from you, riddled with disbelief and it seemed to the resonate with him as he picked it up, and he continued. “If you really think there is something wrong with your body, (name), let me reassure you, from the bottom of my heart and spirit that there is not one problem, yes? You are not ‘too big’, is not possible! Personal preference, I would want a bigger woman, be too afraid to squeeze a smaller one; I would break her!” His words melted into laughter, hoping that his little joke would conjure up some kind of laugh from you too, and his internal wishes were granted as the quietest of giggles escaped from your lips and left a smile on your face in its wake. “A real alpha,” he started again whilst he stood up from the bed finally with you hoisted up in his arms so easily, he held you in a bridal style and instinctively, your arms shot up from their resting positions on your stomach, and they coiled around his strong neck. Turning to face the bed, he bent over to slowly lower you to the cradling embrace of your mattress, and he slipped your looped arms over his head and he gingerly laid them across your chest and stomach, giving one of your arms a slow, deliberate caress til he reached back with the same hand and he even fluffed up a couple, or a few, of pillows amongst the bevy of them splayed across the head of your bed. “Wouldn’t let something so unimportant get in the way of making the person of their dreams their mate. To us, to me, it does not matter what you look like, you are kind, you are sweet, you are smart, you are a light that can be seen from even the darkest of caves, never forget that. How your body is shaped, how much you fill out your clothes, a dress, a palm even, is bonus!” He quietly chimed with a light chuckle fluttering out of him. Again, you found yourself at a loss for words, not even knowing what to begin with other than just laying there in a stunned silence with your (eye color) orbs gawking at him with your mouth hung ajar. Sometimes you wondered how he even existed, only to be quickly reminded he was an alien for a myriad of reasons, tons of which you were thankful for since in the back of your gnawed at the back of your mind, a thought that a human who even attempted to mirror the same kind as uplifting qualities as him wouldn’t even exist. He thought of you in such high regards that didn’t even fathom with you at first, but it touched you to say the least. He grasped the edge of your blanket and pulled it up to the bottom of your chin and he straightened it out across your body, making sure that it laid comfortably flat against your body, his hand, placed on top of your hip, cascaded down in a slow, smooth motion, rubbing the warm fabric down against your body. “Azrael…” You breathed out, he was crouched down next to the side of your bed with his chin resting on his crossed arms laid on the edge of the mattress as all four of his eyes glanced at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue, if you could this time.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much, but it was definitely the loudest phrase echoing throughout your mind at first, if anything was gonna come tumbling out of your mouth in shy, touched mumbles, it was those two words. His eyes softened and his smile spread wider, enough for the tips of his sharpened teeth to peek out from underneath his lips, and somehow, it made him even cuter in your eyes. “You are most welcome, little one, and if you ever, and I mean ever, need to be reminded that you are a gift from the Gods themselves, do not hesitate to come to me again, okay? To see your eyes light up with sincerity and feel proud of yourself once more, it is the greatest treasure in the universe, and nothing would make me happier than to indulge in it more.” His hand unraveled from his crossed arms and he moved it up to one of your hands holding the edge of your blanket and he wrapped his fingers around yours and gave you a gentle squeeze, his thumb grazing over your knuckles and where finger met palm, his trained eyes making sure to watch his claws and to pull them away when they even got a centimeter too close to your skin, and after giving your hand a few more squeezes, he, to you, regrettably, retracted his hand back to his side and stood back up to his towering 11’0” height. You had to catch yourself, but your hand had outstretched from underneath the blanket’s edge, reaching out to grasp and hold his all over again, however, somehow, he didn’t notice, thanks to his head turned away to take a quick glance around your room and when he did finally lock gazes with you again, you snatched your hand away in time and hid it back under the darkened cloth. “It is late, and I can imagine crying made you tired. You should get sleep, rest up and get your strength back, yes?” He gave you one more genuinely sweet smile with a quiet hum flowing from him, before turning around to face the door and he even started to step towards it.

And it was there, staring at his fleeting back that the rest of the world seemed to just fade away until it was just you, gazing at the man who single-handedly changed the entire night for you, who made your negative thoughts seem to melt away into nothingness, to be long gone and forgotten about and to never grace your mind again to cause you harm, to actually put your faith again into something, what started to feel frivolous and unimportant, like love. The words fled from your lips quicker than you could catch them. “Azrael, wait.” Your eyes widened when you heard yourself, and then you were sure that your eyes were going to pop out of their sockets when he turned around to you all over again.

“Yes, little one? Something wrong?” What did you wanna say? Your mind was cluttered, the remnants of what happened prior still littering around in your thoughts in hurtful piles but then also growing overwhelmed with the comforting, blinding feelings towards Azrael’s overshadowing the damage that was done, it was confusing, you couldn’t explain it, but, you knew you didn’t want him to leave so soon already, did you?

“Stay with me.”

Well, that certainly came out a lot stronger than you originally wanted or planned. Azrael’s eyes widened, and he jumped very slightly with the sheer shock running through his body, he almost did a double take by glancing at anything else in the room, away from you, only to find himself staring back at your own stunned face. You flickered your gaze around, your lips forming the possible fragments of words coming to your mind but nothing came out, it just looked like you were physically trying to search for the words in front of you instead of mulling them over in your cluttered mind. However, from staring over your form, the alien’s talented, analytical eyes studied you for only just a few moments, quietly deducing just what was bothering you all over again, and the cause of your outburst, both sets of his eyes softened whilst a low, quiet sigh escaped his nose, returning to your bedside, he reached up and placed one of his large, clawed hands onto your shoulder and he held it, squeezing in a soft, soothing way. “You are feeling обеспокоенный (troubled), conflicted yes? Trying to heal quicker from the pain done unto you, with me. Do not say things that you truly do not mean, you can feel better without me.” His tone had a gentle firmness to it, not coming off too strong that he was yelling at you or anything vile like that, but as if he was trying to teach a lesson to you, words of wisdom that hopefully would help brush away any of the confusions entangling your thought processes in its wicked web. You did listen, of course, even your eyes drifted downward to the top of the mattress. Maybe he was right. He certainly sounded sure of himself. Was this some kind of attempt to rush and hurry your soul through any pain? By getting over the awful excuse of an ex with someone who was most assuredly better than them in every single way, shape, and form? But, it wasn’t like you to do this with just anyone, I mean, you’ve known all of the villains for a couple of years now, and found yourself close to all of them and you considered Azrael one of the closest to you, and he you, but, did you *really* wanna take that dive? To do something more with him? It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before against your better judgement, it was confusing, and made you second-guess some other things in your head that once were set in stone, was now crumbling into unsure doubts. Then, there were those other feelings, like having him this close where his warm aura radiated from him and covered around you like a blanket, the black, deep-set, caring worriedness in his blacked out eyes and how they were focused on you and only you, Hell, even the very obvious size difference in between the two of you was heavily noted, not only by the fact that he easily towered over you when he stood up beforehand, but how when you reached your hand towards his, your palm and fingers managed to coil around, at most, two of his clawed digits and you held them tightly, almost emitting the fear that he would leave sooner than you wished. Dragging your eyes back up to his scarred face, your hand at your side traveled up and you cupped his cheek to the best of your abilities, being so much smaller compared to him. You thumb, in a gentle, ghost of a tender caress, rubbed over the risen skin from the part of the scar situated right underneath his upper right eye, and with you two locked in such an intense gaze, now it was his turn to slowly don a light blue blush that spread across his face in a gradual glow, even the tips of his pointed ears started to brandish the same kind of bluish hue. You gave him a defiant shake of your head, “I want this, I-I want to do this with you, I do, I know I do, t-this isn’t some kind of…” you rolled your wrist, searching for the word, “Coping thing or anything, I swear…! You mean a lot to me, Azrael, and I wanna do...something, anything with you, only you, please…” Getting all of this off of your chest, both of your hands shot up to his cheeks and you cupped them, corralling all of his wandering, nervous eyes from going all over the place to focus solely on you and as if mirroring you, he opened his mouth and his lips attempted to form the words coming at his mind all at once to the point where no words found their way out and instead was replaced with a quiet squeak similar to that of a puma’s, it was too cute for you not to let out quiet giggle while a smile snuck its way onto your lips. Craning your head forward, you pressed your forehead against his in a nudge, something small and sweet that he’s done with you before as an affectionate gesture and almost instantly, his head leaned forward into yours and he returned it, nuzzling the side of his head against yours as a low, rumbling chuff-like noise emitted from the depths of his chest, again, seemingly identical to the chuff noises that a tiger can make. “Is it okay?” You questioned again, one of your hands glided down the side of his face and rested on the nape of his strong neck, letting your fingers trace over the start of a scar underneath the skin-tight under-armor he leisurely wore, “If you don’t want it too, you know you can tell me that right? I-If this is like, I-I’m pressuring you or anything, tell me to stop, and I’ll stop, and I’ll go to bed like you told me to,” you hurriedly reminded him, honestly, how he was feeling about this whole situation burned at your thoughts on top of your own, Azrael wasn’t human in the slightest, if that wasn’t obvious enough, and with how he had no partner with him when he came here in the first place, the thought of him having never done anything sexual before flashed through your head for a moment or two. “N-No, no! I...my apologies, (name), you, grace me with your kindness, being so patient with me.” He was always so sweet, it made your pounding heart flutter and you smiled wider at him as you reached up and threaded your fingers through his ridiculously soft strands of pastel blue hair, petting through the light tresses. “I am...more concerned with how you feel. Being in a hurt state can make you want things to stop the pain and I am more than happy to lay here with you until you do rest, but, something like this...it cannot be big, if there is something smaller that you humans indulge into with your own mating rituals, I can be open to that, but it cannot be anything else.” You blinked, “Why not-” suddenly, you remembered, and you swallowed up the question just before it left you too soon. “That’s right, your kind, you...mate for life.” You dragged out a long groan, your hand shooting up to your face to clap your palm over your forehead, almost as an attack onto yourself for forgetting something so crucial like that but him being much more nervous than you now started to make a lot more sense. “I am *so* sorry I forgot about that part of your culture, Azrael, I-I, ugh god I wasn’t thinking at all.” Rubbing down, you squeezed the bridge of your nose with a hint of annoyance towards yourself before dropping both of your arms onto your lap in defeat with your head turned away and your eyes narrowed along with your brow furrowed, you quietly scolded at yourself under your breath. “I do not want to take advantage of you.” The words surprised you. Lifting your head back up and facing him all over again, your wide eyes gawked at him, worried and curious, especially the first since you had no idea that he was thinking that if you two really did something like this, that he was taking advantage of you. “Azzy, what? Why would you think that?” You questioned, his eyes glancing away momentarily before he started to explain in a low tone. “On my home planet, it is not rare for Alphas, most certainly male, to take advantage of betas and omegas, fearful of them, if they have to give up their bodies to keep them alive, a lot of them fell obedient to others.” His eyes finally locked back onto your face, “And with your heart being hurt, feeling inadequate when you shouldn’t at all…” his hand crept up, cupping your cheek this time and his hand easily covered up almost the entire side of your head and face, his thumb grazing over the skin right underneath your eye. “I did not want it to seem the same. Это ужасная вещь, которую делают жестокие собаки (it is an awful thing done by cruel dogs), may the Gods forever damn the ones who do it, is just one reason why.” You leaned forward quickly and slung your arms around the alien’s large, broad frame, barely making it around the middle of his chest, letting your head burrow into his front as if you were a tick, “Well you,” you started, lifting your head enough to let your chin rest on the top of his chest to gaze upward at his curious expression, teetering on hurt thanks to the not-so-fun fact that he told you about his people, it was almost positive he was worried it would alter your opinion about him at all since he always referred to himself as a true, real Alpha. “Are nothing like those assholes, you know that? I mean you really pride yourself in that-” You gently teased in hopes to get him smiling again and it worked, a little, when the crack of a smile started to break out across his face, “You’re so much more sweeter, nicer, kinder, sometimes, honestly, it surprises me how you’re even called a villain here! I-I mean other than the whole, ‘taking skulls thing’ but still-!” The minimal distraught that had casted over him prior faded away at your emphasis and he couldn’t help but let out rather hearty laugh, one of his strong, large arms hooking around your waist to finally return your tight hug with his head craning down, he nestled his face into your (hair color) hair and you felt the soft rumble of low chuffs blowing through the soft tresses against your scalp. “You like the skull I gave you, yes? That was not too evil!” He joked in return, and it pulled more shared laughter out of the both of you since you bubbling up into a fit of a giggles caused his own laugh to come from him too and, thanks to the happiness sweeping you up, and momentarily brushing away any crumbs of darkness shadowing your mind, you leaned up and pressed a kiss again his nose. The alien squeaked out one of those puma-sounding noises at the small sign of affection, and after drifting his gaze back down at your expression to study your features, he leaned in and returned it by brushing his lips against your forehead so lightly and gently in a chaste kiss, he was always so careful with you, and you had no problem returning it. “Something small, is okay, right?” He questioned, a lilt of shyness threading through his voice as he brought up the prior topic and with a nod of your head, and a gentle smile walking onto your face, “Something small.” You reassured him. However, naturally, Azrael assumed it would be focused on you over himself, since he started to gently stand back up and start to peel the blanket off of you again and it seemed as though when he saw more and more of your body became exposed in a slow, gradual show for him, his sets of eyes traversed the pleasantly long journey of your plush-soft, curvy sides and wide hips, how the belly you had dipped down and, beforehand, you would find yourself being shrouded in the crippling shadow of your own self-doubt and self-conscious but there was something different now, it wasn’t there. It didn’t even begin to manifest itself over you when he was peeking further and further. Maybe it had to do with just how comforting Azrael’s gaze was, riddled with understanding and not a speck of judgement anywhere within the darkness of his four eyes. When he looked at you, it sent a static through you, a spark that was more than determined to reignite the flame inside of your body, and its attempts were more than capable in doing just that. His four orbs alone were enough to make your heartbeat throb harder in your chest and make your breath hitch in your lungs, as if it were glued to the very edges themselves. Although, something stirred within you, sure, the thought of Azrael taking the reins to whatever you two were planning gnawed at your mind in pleasant chews, there was another idea that started to swirl around in your mind, not one of negativity, nothing like that, but something more on the giving side. He did so much for you tonight, striving to do what he always did so masterfully, maybe it was time to do something back for him. Just before the grand reveal of your lower half, his free hand inched over towards your hip and laid it palm down against your skin, pulling a quiet gasp from the back of your throat. His hand, effortlessly taking over almost all of the space on the top of your thigh, was the combination of both soft from the extra padding on his digits and palm, with the scattering of calluses splayed on the edges of his hands and in the bends of his fingers, manifesting a silent story of just how much he pushed himself into his hunting. Your heart pounded, the thudding of it slamming against your chest rattled through your skull and pierced through your eardrums, practically silencing everything else whilst you stared at him, the softened expression that stayed true to his face, decorated with relaxed, half-lidded eyes and a warm smile spread across his lips, his four orbs flicked up at you, you assumed at first, but it took only the feel of his sharpened claws gently pricking and prodding at the thin material of your panties as a little warning to you that he was about to tug them down and off of you, and it was a gentle, silent reminder of what you had planned and on the fact that he even took the time to ready you, to ask wordlessly if it was okay for him to do so, the motions of your plan sparked to life as if they had a mind of their own. “Azzy wait-” your hand crept up, and you grasped his wrist, to the best extent that you could, actually holding a part of him really put into perspective just how much larger he was compared to you as your digits barely even wrapped around one of the sides. He screeched to a halt in record time, both his palm and fingers left your side much to your chagrin, nearly snatching his hand out of your light grip, “Have you changed your mind?” He questioned softly with an understanding lilt flowing through his tone, however, you shook your head, and you sat up more properly on the mattress so that you could turn and swing your legs over to the edge of the bed like how you were prior, and your softened eyes flickered up to his adorably confused and concerned face, he even gave his head a slow tilt to one side as if he were a large puppy. “No, no not at all, but…” you soothingly cooed whilst you leaned forward and in time, the alien moved back just a step or two, to make sure he wasn’t crowding you. You released your grip on his wrist and now, it was your turn for your own private little show when your eyes started at the top of his broad chest and in a deliberate crawl down the contours of his sculpted body and internally, you were thanking your lucky stars for the thin piece of under armor that Azrael worse ever so casually, its fabric hugged around his defined torso, outlining every little ridge of his trained, bulging muscles, it left little to the imagination. “You did so much for me tonight, and, I know you’re gonna like, disagree, but you didn’t have to,” and just as you predicted, his lips parted to start the said disagreement, until, it was replaced with a quiet, husk of a gasp tip-toed out instead, thanks to your hand laying palm down onto his chest, and in a slow-moving, downward stroke, you dragged your palm lower and lower across the length of his torso, the tips of your digits rising when they crossed over the ridges of his defined body and the risen skin of a scattering of deep-set scars, shielded away from your gaze. Then you felt it, where his top met his bottom armor, seemingly blended in together to seem conjoined as one full piece only to be disproven when your fingers curled over the edge of his pants and nudged rim down ever so slightly, enough for your intruding eyes to sinfully sneak a peek at the thick-haired base of whatever he had down there. That was the thing about Azrael, with him being an alien, your imaginations were the limits of picturing just exactly what he had hidden down there, and you had your excitement of finally seeing the grand reveal to blame for when your thighs lightly pressed against one another. “(Name)...” Azrael mumbled out, his accented voice dangerously low, a dusting of a blue blush sprinkled across his cheeks, the temptation to move his hand to yours to lead it off of him so that he can fully take care of you over the other echoed throughout his mind, and at first, his hand almost carried it out, the tips of his sharpened claws drew close enough to lightly prick and scrape against the skin of your wrist, but for once, you were faster than him. Craning your head forward, your lips brushed against his abdomen in a chaste peck, and the tiny gesture it was, was enough to send his hand into a skidding stop, his eyes went wide, almost as if all four were threatening to pop out of his skull, “So now,” you started again, whispering against blue skin, your lips sensually walked down his abdomen, leaving a trail of kisses in your wake, some of them were quick that emitted a sense of urgency to move onto the next while some of the others you held down for a few extra moments or so, so when your lips broke the lip-lock, the shiver that rushed through his body was more pleasurably intense than the last jolt ending it’s electrifying current through his senses. “I wanna do something for you. You’re such a sweetheart, Azzy, it’s only fair that I return the favor and take care of you this time,” The feeling of thick strands of snowy blue tresses brushing up against your jawline in light tickles, your eyes flickered down, studying the thickly haired base of his privates before continuing, this time, your unused hand that resided on one of his inner thighs climbed up further and further in between his legs, “You, mmhf, you do not have to do that f-for me, little one, it is the Alpha’s job after all to-hnh!~” His words were suddenly cut off with a shuddering groan when your hand moved up and placed itself onto his sack, and with slow, groping squeezes with your fingers rubbing over him, your lips attacked the base of his privates with a numerous amount of kisses through the thick fur like hair, your eyes pried open and they flicked up towards his face, doused in a deep shade of blue that spread so far across his face, it reached the tips of his pointed ears that even twitched a few times with growing excitement. All four of his eyes were screwed tight, and his hand that hung at his side had shot up and clasped over his mouth as if to silence any fleeting moans that dared to escape his lips, however, that tactic wasn’t too successful in stopping every noise that emitted from him since in the deep pit of his chest, chuffing noises rumbled throughout his body and vibrated against his padded palm, and it appeared as though he was silently cursing those purring noises since every time one crept out from in between his lips, his already closed eyes would tighten more and even his fingers gripped at his mouth and jaw harder too. With your head lowered so far your lips tantalizingly close to where you were so determined to cover in kisses and licks and suck, you certainly weren’t prepared for what you witnessed. In the corner of your eye, your head leaned back enough to drink up the sight of the tent in his pants growing right in front of you, it was to be expected, and hoped for, that he was truly enjoying what you were giving him and if it wasn’t, you were damned sure to find something that he’d love more than anything while you two were like this while you had him. You just had to. Your hand clenched the front of his pants again, preparing to tug the rest of the fabric again, however, the tent grew more, and more, and more, until the tightening thin armor expanded to such a tight bulge, the fabric snapped, and his length sprung out from its suffocating cloth imprisonment and you didn’t know really what to say at first as you sat there, gawking at the unusual sight with a dropped jaw and wide eyes and, as if history repeated itself, you found yourself at a lost for words until your stuttering lips managed to conjure something up. “...holy shit.” You marveled. His length was anything but the norm that you’ve seen or have been used to. The shape of it alone was the biggest difference, it wasn't human, at all, it was a long, thick, tentacle-like shape that had a thick base and as your eyes traveled further up to the tip, you noted how it started wide and thick but slimmed down until the head was a point, and along the length and around the girth of it all, it was covered with small spines, no bigger than a thumbnail but still, their quantity overruled the size easily, they were everywhere except the tip since there wasn’t that much space at the thin head, but, they were heavily condensed around the the third and final part, a swollen knot that throbbed a few times now that he was fully erect and excited and in tune with each throb of his knot, the tentacle part wriggled deliberately, almost as if it were hypnotizing you to lean forward with your mouth as agape as it is now and swallow around the shaft. “Is, is problem?” Azrael’s trembling voice was like a hook, line, and sinker since it pulled you out of your stunned bewilderment. Blinking profusely with a shake of your head to top it off, your eyes snapped up onto his panting, flushed face and just before any worry attempted to leak through the lusty haze that was spreading heavily through him, you shook your head. “N-No! I’m just, s-surprised! I, Azzy you have, A LOT, down here-” “...is too big?�� “It’s fucking HUGE, but that’s not what I meant-” Your still hand rested on your thigh and your fingers clenched tighter into its fist as you stared, you really didn’t have any idea on how to start with something like this, sure, you’ve given oral to past partners, even the most recent one, but Azrael was different. Not only has he never, ever, experienced something like this, but because this was Azrael, the place in your heart that he happily took over was major, he mattered more to you than you probably both ever realized, so you wanted to make this perfect, better than just enjoyable, you wanted this big alien man to get weak in the knees and need to sit down next to you after he was done or, if you really knew what you were doing with just the type of equipment he had, maybe even in the middle of it, so, with a deep breath through your mouth and out through your nostrils, your hand shot up to his length and your hand coiled around the base of it, right above the knot and you gasped lightly to yourself while a quiet snarling groan rumbled through his chest. Just barely, did the tips of your finger graze the edge of your palm, at least your hand actually managed to wrap around something of his, even if it wasn’t enough. Your hand inched up, the spines underneath your hand brushed up against your palm, they flared up and down ever so lightly in time with the twitches and throbs of his shaft, the sensation was odd, yes, but definitely not tempting. Your hand continued, squeezing around his shaft, you stroked all the way up to his tip in a slow, smooth, glide, the spines flexing out only to relax again and when your hand ended it’s test run at his tip, your thumb pressed down onto the leaking slit to tease the opening in small circles, and with each rotation, thick, warm, and surprisingly sweet-smelling precum began to impatiently seep out of his tip, coating your digit steadily and you were only more surprised when you pushed your hand back down in another pump and it milked more of his pre to steadily drip out of his tip and leak out onto his shaft and even have droplets push out over the edge of the slit and drip down onto the floor beneath the both of you. “L-Little one your, your hand is already plenty, rest, mmhmf, rest your body, you do not have to do more~” Azrael husked out, his eyes fought to stay open, and through blurry lenses, he gazed down at you. His hands resided at his sides, and only momentarily did one of them inch up and forward towards you and at first, glancing at it in the corner of your eye, you naturally assumed that it was him possibly attempting to thwart your actions again, but with how his held out hand twitched and his digits trembled halfway there, it wasn’t like he was trying to stop you, it was almost as if he weren’t sure if he should put a hand on you again, like he was worried if he grabbed you too hard or placed it in the wrong spot while you were like this, it’d hurt you, so, with another breath, his hand retracted and fell back to his side again. Witnessing this, your eyes traveled back up to his flushed face and you let a smile dance onto your lips, “Do you trust me, Azrael?” You questioned and, yes, at first, you attempted to let a flirtatious lilt coat those words to make it sound more enticing, but, you truly wanted to know, even if him letting you do this was evidence enough that he did since he could very easily stop you in a number of ways, ones more violent than the last, still, it probably eased both of your racing minds and thoughts to have consent audibly said instead of just out in the open like this. After a few moments of catching his panting breath, a thin grin pulled onto his lips and he nodded gently down at you, his multiple eyes tender and true, “I trust you, little one, I-I know you would never do me wrong in something as passionate as this, and you, mhmf, you have my word with the Gods as my witnesses, you may trust me too.”

“...god how do you exist, you’re, such a sweetheart, Azzy, I swear…~” You giggled quietly, and continued when he shrugged as a little joke, as if he didn’t know, but after glancing back up at his face, and how he stared down at you with such a loving sensation pouring from all four of his darkened orbs, you have no idea how you manage to wrangle your internal thoughts of leaning up or pulling him down to your level to kiss him where you should have willed yourself to do beforehand when you were up there, every ounce of your body wanted to just slam your lips against his in a deep kiss, to feel him kissing back with all of the experience and courage that he could offer, and have his large hands grasp at your hips and rear to keep you pinned against his broad, strong chest so the kiss wouldn’t be broken too soon, but, that would have to be saved for another time. You were already down here like this, right where your desire for him burned so brightly, if you were going to do this, it was now or you’d never be standing on this precipice of courage ever again. Your (eye color) orbs drifted back down to his twitching, awaiting length, the bizarre sight of his cock wriggling up and down or side to side with the smallest of moments intrigued you, you had your hand to planted firmly around his base as much as you could hold while your free hand propped up against the upper part of his thigh, close to his hip, to give yourself a steady form of balance in case you found yourself getting lost in this since his sweet-smelling aroma was invading your nostrils relentlessly, and the delicious scents imprinted themselves onto your mind with little effort and it triggered your mouth to even salivate more and it seemed to act as a good sign for what you just had planned since your tongue hung out of your mouth to swipe over your lips in a slow-moving lick. You craned your head forward, the pointed tip of his cock rested against your plump bottom lip and in between the both of them, the tip of your tongue peeked through and it swiped against the dripping head in a testing lick, as if you were either showing Azrael how this would work or if you were giving yourself just a taste of his seed and seeing if your nose was deceiving your tongue. Azrael’s sharp teeth gritted, you could hear the sharpened bones clicking lightly against each other, and he sucked in a sharp breath through the small gaps, the hand that masked over his mouth and nose released him and started to rub down from the side of his neck, to his chest, and finally it dropped down to his side again, he grasped the hem of his shirt and his claws nearly tore into the thin, ocean-blue fabric. If he was like this after just one tiny lick, now, you found more of that confidence peering through your worry and doubt.

“Lemme take care of you, Azzy…~” You breathed out intentionally against the sensitive flesh of his cock, the tentacle-like appendage twitched in a wriggling jump while Azrael husked out a quiet groan to himself. Your mouth cracked open, the tip of his length snaked its way into your mouth, and as you pushed your head further and further down the inches, the exotic feelings and tastes overwhelmed you. The copious amount of pre spilling out of his tip and staining the back of your throat and tongue with the spines surrounding his shaft flared out and brushed against the roof of your mouth and the top of your flattened tongue, however, this time, they didn’t relax and go back down, it was like the spines were doing their unwritten and unspoken duty in keeping his cock sheathed far down your throat and mouth, and it was at that epiphany that you were thanking your shit ex for helping you out with something like this now. You pushed yourself more, and more, until, your lips halted at the top of his swollen knot, you peered at it, and as much as you would try maybe another time, today was not the day to risk a broken jaw trying to unhinge it to try and swallow his whole length, if anything, you were more impressed with how far you got on your first attempt. Azrael though, he was another story, he had the worry of being too big in more than one ways pierce at his psyche, he had question after question after question nervously wracking through his brain to the point where he didn’t know which one to ask first, if he had to do something, if you could take him, were you changing your mind at all, just to name a few and while, he was enjoying himself, more than he thought or imagined, your sound well-being came first overall. His hand fumbled with the crinkled hem of his shirt, if he was going to place it on you, now would be the most obvious time. So, with a light huff through his nose, his hand raised and much to your surprise, he planted it on the top of your head where his claws brushed through (hair color) tresses, petting the top of your head and your scalp gingerly, “Are you, mmhmf, doing...whatever it is you’re doing good, still, (name?) Don’t you, need to breathe, should I, mmf, sit down, pull back, I-” With a lift of your hand, you planted it onto his hip and it silenced his words, four blackened eyes met yours and with a watery wink and a muffled smile, you pulled your head back, smoothly, your tongue threading through the gaps in between his spines and it dragged across the bottom of his shaft, and just before his entire length left your mouth, you hurriedly slammed your head back down to his knot. Azrael’s head shot back, pulling a long, deep groan, deep from within the alien’s chest. You repeated this process a few times, sliding his cock almost all of the way out of your throat only to quickly swallow it down again until you found a steady, rhythmic pace to set for yourself, even your hand that was clamped around his base to hold his twitching length at the ready had replaced itself onto his other hip, and you gripped at him, fingers digging into blue skin, not enough to break the surface of it, not even in the silence, but mayhaps enough to cause a speckling of bruises to pop up later for him to be reminded of just what happened tonight. Your head bobbed up and down, your tongue danced around his shaft, grinding up against the sides of it and you did attempt a few times to swirl it completely around his thick shaft to no avail, at certain parts, so you made sure to give the poised spines extra attention by letting the tip of the muscle flick across a couple of specific ones. You swallowed around him, the constricting walls of your throat enveloped around his cock, massaging the tip and shaft. “Mmmhff~ Nnnhhff~ L-Little one, by the Gods themselves, your mouth, your throat~ So warm, so w-wet~ Tight~ It’s, is too much~ T-The fact that you, you humans do this, I-hnh-I won’t last long with, hhnff, with your skills~” The rest of Azrael’s words melted into his native tongue and while you could make out some words here and there, the rest almost sounded like complete lust-driven gibberish. He had leaned over you, his knees buckled like you had hoped, not enough to make him fall, but enough to make him not stand up straight anymore, and he had the edge of the bed to act as his savior to catch him if he did, and his hand that rested on the top of you head had inched to the back of it, and you could have sworn that you felt the faintest urging push of your head to swallow him down again. One of your hands had inched down from his side, it slid down the dip in between his crotch and thigh, and you cupped his sack again, your palm groping and rubbing against him, and you felt it, that tension inside of him starting to tighten further inside of him, he was getting close, it was sooner than you thought but again, this was all new territory for someone as battle-ridden as him, and you felt a sense of pride shimmer inside of you that you were the first person ever to do this to him, and with how he was, probably the only one too. You hollowed out your cheeks by sucking harder around him, and your head bobbed up and down his length faster than before, the quiet slurping that ghosted out from your lips was much more audible now, and the tip of his cock slammed against the back of your throat, muffled whines rattled through your body and shot through his length with gags and whimpers fluttering in between the latter and it didn’t take too much, maybe 2 or 3 more fast pumps of your head when a loud, ear-piercing, animalistic roar of pleasure ripped through Azrael’s body and shot out of his mouth. Wave after wave after wave of white hot pleasure crashed over his body when his orgasm rushed over him. His seed spurted out of his tip in thick, warm ropes, and with each pump, his hips trembled and bucked into your awaiting mouth and throat, his hot cum cascading down your throat in a sweet-tasting waterfall. His eyes were glued tight, staggering, trembling groans with the hint of growls rumbling through his body, his hand forced itself to release your strands and almost instantly, he forced his eyes to pry open to stare at his open palm and claws, checking to see if he tore anything out and with relief, even more so when he lazily inspected the back of your head and saw no imperfections, he stepped back gently, his hips relaxing and pulling back, his softened cock fled from your mouth and throat, strands of your saliva stretched out and connected your lips and his length together until you broke by licking your lips, and without it being buried so far down your throat, the air flew down into your lungs in a welcomed, deep gasp before you panted out heavily. “How…” your voice was hoarse, with a lick of your lips and a clearing of your throat in the form of a soft cough, you started again. “How was that?” You panted.

The alien stood back up straight, his pants were hiked back up and adjusted the way they were set before all the while panting breaths wracked through his body, making his chest heave. Strands of his pastel blue hair stuck to his forehead with the help of the sheen of sweat that coated his skin up there, “That was...if that was your throat alone, then the Gods have certainly blessed whoever will, hnn, be your mate, yes?” He rasped, “You don’t think it’ll be you?” You questioned back, and surprisingly, he chuckled tiredly through the catching of his breath. “A Goddess such as yourself should not have to settle on the first man who treats her with kindness, I am simply doing what should be done by the one you use to spend the rest of their life with you, what that excuse of a man should have done,” man, his culture was something else. It really did take you a moment or so that process really what he just pointed out, that the two of you doing this tonight, to him, because of what he’s been taught and brought up to, this could all mean nothing if you met something literally tomorrow and decided to stay with them for, forever, instead of him.

And he’d be okay with it. Your eyes softened, “Azzy-” His hands reached down and much like before, he hoisted your legs up and back over onto the mattress and adjusted you so that you laid comfortably against the slab before grabbing the edge of your blanket and pulling it up and over you to drape it across your still warm and humming body, “Now, you should be more than tired, yes? Talk to me later today if you wish, but for now, little one, I must see you in your dreams, hm? Greet me there with kindness, (name), pleasant night.” With one more kiss to the middle of your forehead, he leaned back up to his towering height, his eyes half-lidded and fixated on your face, a warm smile played at his lips before giving you one more final nod, and he turned around, you stared at his sculpted back, the words were at your lips again, but this time, it was too late, the door opened and Azrael stepped out, but, not before giving you one more tender, true smile and even a little wave with his fingers, and the door closed.

“...I love you, Azzy.” The words found their way on the path out of your mouth after all.

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m3kuroshirt · 3 years ago

Text

Sharp Darts and Wilting Flowers

GrimmIchi Weekend Challenge 3

Challenged by @kuroosden

Genre/trope: angst with a happy ending

Required words: grey, flower

Word count: 3551

Posted to AO3 as well, under the same title, on this account: M34GS

Warnings: some graphic description of injury and pain, death

The only thing he remembered was a wilting flower and the colour grey. Ichigo blinked, looking about the room he was in. It appeared to be a well-decorated elevator. The floor was covered in a plush red carpet and the wall panels were the colour of mahogany. Gold trim lined the edges, but whether it was solid gold or just gold-plated he couldn’t tell. All at once, the elevator jolted and Ichigo realized it had stopped…though he hadn’t known it was even moving at all until that moment.

A small, bright ding! and the doors slid open. Ichigo stepped out hesitantly. He scanned the room he stepped into; a modern-looking place in direct contrast with the old-fashioned elegance of the elevator. The lighting was tinted blue, and all around he could see empty chairs and tables. Turning to his right, Ichigo could see another man, tall with blue hair and piercing blue eyes, who looked just as confused as he felt. Something about the man seemed familiar, but try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t quite remember his name.

“Uh. Hi,” he greeted the man, hoping that would lead to conversation, where he could learn something. The man tore his gaze from the scenery and locked his eyes on Ichigo. And damn. DAMN. That was not an unpleasant gaze to have fixed on him. Ichigo swallowed and smiled nervously. The other man narrowed his eyes and panic seized Ichigo for a moment before the blue-haired man spoke.

“…Do I…know you?” his tone wasn’t angry…it was wholeheartedly confused, maybe even frustrated. As if he was struggling with remembering things, just like Ichigo. Ichigo shrugged.

“I, uh, don’t know? I don’t remember much of anything…I have no idea how I got here or even where ‘here’ is,” he mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Way to sound like a freak in front of the hot guy, he chastised himself. I should’ve just said no. But to his surprise, the other man relaxed.

“I’m not the only one, then,” he muttered. He stopped looking at Ichigo and glanced around the place. “…place is fucking creepy as hell,” he continued.

“Eh? And here I thought it was really nice,” a lilting voice cut through the tense atmosphere. Both men started and whirled around to see…a person. They were standing there, dressed in a beautiful, flowing gown, blue and shimmery. Their hair was jaw-length and trimmed to frame their face, and they smiled at the two men. Ichigo felt suddenly self-conscious. Is everyone here hot as hell? He wondered. He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I rather like the colour blue. And don’t you find the theme…entrancing?” the person asked them. Ichigo blinked and looked around again, finding himself wanting to please this beautiful person.

“Uh. I…uh, yeah,” he replied very intelligently.

“So, you own this place?” The blue haired man demanded. “You know why we’re here then, how we got here?” He stepped forward, standing right next to Ichigo now. And Ichigo felt the urge to lean against the man, almost as a reassurance; as if no matter what this stranger had in store for them, he would back up this man with his life. And the strangest thought came to him that maybe, just maybe, the blue haired man wouldn’t mind. But he stopped himself when he caught the stranger in the dress smiling at him with what had to be a knowing smile.

They know something about me. The thought slid into his brain unbidden, and, try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t seem to dispel it. His fingers twitched at his sides and his mouth was dry.

“If you really want to know,” the stranger answered as they turned and gestured for the men to follow, “then come over here.” The stranger turned fully away from them and started to walk toward a bar. Ichigo exchanged a look with the blue haired man.

“Do…do you think we should?” he asked. The blue haired man frowned.

“We don’t have much choice. Unless you got any ideas?” Ichigo shook his head and the other man nodded grimly. “I thought so.” He ran a hand through his blue hair and Ichigo snuck a glance at his forearm. He could see the faint outline of veins, and his heart gave an odd little leap. “Grimmjow.”

Ichigo blinked. “Uh?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “It’s my name, dumbass. I think we can be on a first name basis, given the situation. Plus, if shit goes sideways, you’re the only one I think I can trust here,” he clarified. Ichigo blinked again.

“Oh. Uh. Nice to meet you, Grimmjow. Uh. I’m Ichigo.” Grimmjow’s name seemed to roll off his tongue with an easy familiarity, but Ichigo couldn’t quite figure out why. Grimmjow just nodded after Ichigo introduced himself, then stepped forward to follow where the prettily dressed stranger had gone. Ichigo fell into step behind him, feeling oddly much safer than when he’d been alone in the elevator.

They found the stranger at the bar, perched on a barstool and sipping from a martini glass. Another person stood behind the bar, a bald man with sharp, angry-looking features, sporting red eyeliner that only seemed to make him appear more fierce. The stranger in the dress motioned for them to sit, so they each took a seat. The man behind the bar looked each of them up and down for a second, before speaking.

“Wanna drink?” he asked them casually, his voice much more rough than the smooth sound of his companion’s. Grimmjow gave one shake of his head, and Ichigo followed suit. No telling what would really be in the drink if they took one.

“We want to know why we’re here,” Ichigo countered, doing his best to appear intimidating and not as nervous as he felt. The man nodded. He wiped down the bar counter with a towel.

“To play a game,” he answered simply.

Grimmjow slammed a hand on the counter. “Don’t fuck with us! ‘To play a game’?! The hell does that mean, you fucker,” he snarled. Ichigo watched with wide eyes. The pretty stranger sipped their drink, not even fazed by the reaction. Behind the bar, the bald man glared.

“Shut the hell up and listen then, idiot,” he snapped.

Oh good. Two hot-heads in the same room. This will go well, Ichigo thought dryly. Grimmjow quieted but continued glaring at the baldy. Unexpectedly, it was the pretty stranger who spoke up.

“You two will be playing a game where your lives are at stake,” they stated, as calm as if observing that Grimmjow’s hair was blue and Ichigo’s eyes were brown. “You will play against each other in a game that is chosen at random, and the loser will die.” Ichigo felt his brain come to a screeching halt.

“Wait. What?” he demanded. He slid off his seat and stood towering over the pretty stranger. “You want us to play for the right to live? That’s fucked up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The stranger stared back at him without even blinking, their eyes a dark and mesmerizing slate grey.

“If you don’t play, you both die,” they answered simply.

“Bring it. I’ll fucking take you both down,” Grimmjow snarled, standing now as well, shoulder to shoulder with Ichigo. The bald man rolled his eyes. Before either of them could react, a gun barrel was pointed at each of them; one held by the baldy, and one by the pretty stranger.

“Unless you want to both end up stone-dead, you’ll do as you’re told,” the pretty stranger replied with a sly smile. “My name is Yumichika, and this is Ikkaku,” they gestured to the bald man behind the bar. “We’ll be your hosts tonight. Now come, it’s time to choose your game.” Yumichika waved to a small roulette wheel Ichigo hadn’t noticed before. On it were game titles that sounded like what a child would play in a cheesy horror movie. Death billiards? Really? He thought to himself bitterly. A faint part of him wished, hoped, dared to believe that this could be a dream; a nightmare.

A button was pressed and the wheel jumped to life, spinning in a flash of colour and light. Ichigo felt his throat seal shut, as if this somehow made it more real than the guns did, more real than the heat of the man standing next to him. This was not a dream.

The wheel stopped. Ichigo blinked and read the bright shining title. Death Seven Darts. He’d barely comprehended the words when there was a quiet rumble. The floor ahead of them split and two dart boards rose from the ground. Along with them came two little trays, each with seven darts. Ikakku stepped out from behind the bar.

“The rules are simple,” he stated, his tone rather indifferent. “You each start with 500 points. You throw the darts and points are deducted from your opponent according to the score you get. The one with the least points when all the darts are gone is the loser.” Ichigo felt a shiver run down his spine. The dart boards were decorated with grotesque images; a picture of human organs adorning each possible space to hit. He really wants us to be constantly thinking about how one of us will die, doesn’t he? Ichigo thought with a frown. We could both refuse to play. We’d be killed…but that’s better than the other option…survivor’s guilt or being sentenced to die by the only person in the same situation as me…

As if reading his thoughts, Grimmjow bumped his shoulder. Ichigo blinked and looked up at him. “You got something to live for?” he asked Ichigo, his blue gaze burning into Ichigo’s own brown eyes.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Ichigo answered, fear sliding down his spine and spreading along his nerves like oil; slick and gross.

“Then that means you must have. Whatever they did to us…they wouldn’t have messed with our heads if it wasn’t important to their little ‘game’,” Grimmjow reasoned. He glanced to the dartboards and ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked at Ichigo with resolve. “Don’t hold back.” Grimmjow turned away from him and walked over to one set of darts. Ichigo felt his heart sinking. They were really going to do this. His stomach churned and he chewed his lip as he walked up to his own set.

Grimmjow picked up one of the darts. Ichigo couldn’t stop watching him as he inspected it, probably checking to see if it was some sort of trap. Then he took aim…and launched the dart. It hit the board, and pain burst in Ichigo’s skull, behind his left eye. He screamed and grabbed at it, the pain piercing through his head. Ichigo sank to his knees, barely hearing the shout of his name, barely feeling the arms wrap around his shoulders. The pain blossomed into an aching throb and he choked on a sob.

That’s when the images started.

An orange lily in a vase, beautiful but wilting. A warm, inviting kitchen, one he instinctively knew was his. And warm arms wrapped around him. A low voice murmuring in his ear. And Ichigo was smiling.

Ichigo was not smiling when he came back to the present moment. He was on his knees, leaning forward, someone holding him from behind to support him. He gasped, the shock of pain pouring over him once more like cold water.

“-Chigo…Ichigo! What’s wrong?!” the voice that shouted was familiar and yet strange and the thought made Ichigo dizzy. He frowned as the pain faded to a dull ache, finally able to think and speak.

Ichigo looked up to see the indifferent faces of Yumichika and Ikkaku watching them. He glared at them. “What…” he gasped out, still catching his breath, “what the…fuck…did you do to me?” They watched him with unchanging faces. Grimmjow’s arms tightened around him.

“The fuck is this bullshit?” he growled. “I thought we weren’t dying until the game is over.” Yumichika raised an eyebrow.

“Are you saying he’s dead? And yet, isn’t he talking to you?” they asked in their low sultry voice. The arms around him squeezed once more, and Ichigo reached up to rest a trembling hand on them. He felt Grimmjow stiffen and then release him.

Ichigo turned around to see him offer his hand. He took the offered hand and Grimmjow helped him stand. “Sorry,” the blue haired man apologized. “I didn’t mean to go overboard…but when I saw you were hurt…I reacted without thinking.” His voice was low and his cheeks were pink. He refused to look Ichigo in the eye. Ichigo swallowed.

“No…it’s alright. I, uh,” he started but hesitated and glanced at Yumichika and Ikkaku. Ikkaku spoke up.

“Whatever you say, we won’t be intervening,” he stated shortly. His voice was rough but not mean. Ichigo licked his lips and started again, facing Grimmjow now.

“I think I got a memory back. When the pain came on. There was a flower…and someone behind me. It was brief but it felt important.”

Grimmjow blinked. “…is that so?” Ichigo nodded. Grimmjow’s lips twisted as he thought, his brow furrowed. For some reason, Ichigo wanted to press his fingers to Grimmjow’s face and smooth the creases away, help him relax. He did not give in to that urge. Grimmjow gestured to the tray holding Ichigo’s darts. “Your turn.”

Ichigo grimaced. “I…don’t want to,” he mumbled quietly. Grimmjow tensed.

“Yeah. But it’s the only way one of us is getting out of here alive. And,” he paused, as if mulling over his words before plowing on, “and I’d like to see one of my memories. If I’m able.” Ichigo nodded once. Then he picked up the dart, aimed, and threw it.

There was a shout and then Grimmjow doubled over, clutching his left arm. Ichigo was torn between staying away out of guilt and rushing over to him, even though he knew running to Grimmjow would do no good. There wasn’t a thing he could do to ease the pain. Yet he ended up running to the other man’s side.

“Grimmjow?” he called hesitantly. There was an answering grunt and Ichigo reached out a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder. Grimmjow turned his gaze upward, still hunched over, curled protectively around his hand. Ichigo wet his lips absentmindedly as he stared into those intense blue eyes. “Did it work?” Grimmjow gave one nod, his grimace easing, and straightened his posture.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded choked, almost broken. And Ichigo had a feeling it wasn’t the pain.

“What did you see?”

There was a beat of silence far too long to be comfortable. Then, “I think I was going to propose to someone. I saw a ring.”

Ichigo felt his stomach plummet. Violent emotions swirled inside his head. Anger. Fear. Jealousy. Guilt. Resignation. He removed his hand from Grimmjow’s shoulder. “You should win.” Ichigo wasn’t even aware he’d thought the words before they were falling out of his mouth unbidden. Grimmjow shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. You aren’t going to throw this game to give me the win. No fucking way, not with both our lives on the line,” he snapped.

“You have someone important!” Ichigo argued.

“So do you! Someone who bought you flowers! What if you’re already married? Are you going to say your actual spouse’s feelings don’t matter as much as my possible spouse? Huh???”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Ichigo was the one to look away. “Alright. Fine. I won’t throw the game for you,” he muttered. Grimmjow nodded with satisfaction. Ichigo gestured to his tray. “Your turn then.” He braced himself as Grimmjow picked up the dart.

From that point on, the game was a blur. They rotated between bursts of excruciating pain and blurs of memories. Ichigo did his best to piece them together.

A wilting flower. He wanted to get more. He wanted to go to the florist and pick up some more and maybe some nutrients for the water this time. All he had to do was convince someone…

***

Scenery flashed past them as they drove. It was a city, that much he was sure of. The sun shone down brightly and kids ran along the sidewalks. Something warmed his hand and when he looked at it, it was another hand holding his. Strong, rough, but gentle, the hand squeezed his own while its partner rested on the steering wheel.

***

A voice was talking, and he tried to hang on to every word. ‘A special night’ and ‘reservations’ but Ichigo couldn’t pick out all the words; distracted by a shadow to his right.

***

Someone was screaming. Who was it? Who was screaming? There was red everywhere, scattered and splashed among grey pieces of metal and plastic on dark asphalt. And a spot of blue. Who was screaming?

He was. Ichigo was screaming. The blue across from him came into focus and he could see now, the blue hair, blue eyes, a hand that reached for him, covered in blood, mouth open, trying to speak…

And then the loud sound of squealing brakes.

Turning. Slowly. As if stuck in molasses.

A semi truck careening toward them with no chance of stopping.

Darkness.

Ichigo felt tears slide down his cheeks as he came back to the present.

“Ichigo! What’s wrong? Did you see something else?” Grimmjow’s voice cut through the buzzing in his ears. Up to this point, they’d been sharing their memories with each other, finding they had both been in similar situations…never once had Ichigo imagined they’d been going through all of it together…and that they were…

“…dead,” the word tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. Grimmjow froze.

“What?”

Ichigo turned to Yumichika and Ikkaku. He hoped he was wrong, gaze pleading as he looked at each of them. “We’re already dead, aren’t we?” Yumichika nodded once.

“What? That! That’s impossible!” Grimmjow protested, but even as he spoke Ichigo turned to him and saw the realization steal across his face. The last memory sunk in for him too, then, he reasoned.

“When people die,” Yumichika stated calmly, as if teaching a course in a university, “one of two things happens to their soul. They either go to the void, to be lost forever in darkness, or they are reincarnated.”

Ikkaku stretched his neck from side to side and continued the speech. “Sometimes, when two people die at once, they get sent here, to play a game and be assigned either the void or reincarnation, according to the judgement of the arbiter. I am the arbiter.”

“So, you’re going to judge if we go to the void or get to live again?” Grimmjow asked slowly. Ikkaku gave a short nod.

“That’s right.”

Ichigo frowned. “If either of us is reincarnated…would we lose our memories of each other?” he whispered.

“That is correct,” Yumichika confirmed. Ichigo felt something snap inside his chest, like a string that was tugged until it broke.

He turned to Grimmjow. “I…Grimm…I just got these memories back…I don’t wanna lose them.” His voice was ragged with the tears building up and his throat ached the more he tried to hold them back. Grimmjow shook his head.

“You think I’m gonna let you say you want to go to the void, dumbass? Like hell I wanna see your soul lost in darkness forever. Think about what you’re saying, you idiot,” he answered, but there was no bite to his words, and he walked over to Ichigo and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. Ichigo curled into Grimmjow’s arms.

“But,” he mumbled, “what if only one of us can be reincarnated?” Grimmjow tightened his arms around him and for a fleeting moment Ichigo felt safe and secure. That came crashing down with his lover’s next words.

“Then it should be you.”

Ichigo pulled back in alarm, mouth open to protest, but he was cut off by Ikkaku.

“I’ve decided. It’s time for the two of you to go back to the elevators. They will take you to your assigned destinations,” the bald man interrupted. His tone was final, and his face offered no consolation to either of the young men.

***

Yumichika watched the two young men step into their respective elevators. The two looked grim, but there was a resignation about them as well, as if they were both accepting of their fate, though they had no idea yet what it might be. Yumichika hummed to themself thoughtfully as the doors closed, remembering how the couple had hugged each other tightly, as a ‘good-bye’, only moments before. They watched as both elevators started upward, whisking the occupants away to be reincarnated in the living world.

“Do you think…Ikkaku…do you think they’ll find each other again in the living world?” They asked, their tone feigning indifference. In truth, Yumichika felt a nervous thrum of anticipation as they waited for Ikkaku’s answer.

“Dunno,” came the gruff reply. There was a pause. And then, “I hope so.”

#grimmichi #writing challenge #jaegerjaquez grimmjow #kurosaki ichigo #m34gswrites #angst with happy ending #grimmichi au #Death Parade au

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