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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Forgive, But First Fun - Nandor x f(vampire) reader

Summary: After getting left behind to fight off a pack of werewolves on your own, now mad at Nandor, you and Nadja have decided a little night out couldn’t hurt.

Warning: slight angst, fluff, fun times, and a tiny smut mention

Masterlist

Trudging angrily through the manors wooden doors, face stern and almost scary enough to put the fear of God into anyone. Your boots stomp into the large opening and onto the wooden floor boards as Gullimero, Nandor, and the documentary crew follow you in.

Your cloak is ripped and dirty as it lays in a pathetic black heap of cloth in Gullimero’s arms, your hair not looking any better, not to mention your face and arms that have various cuts paired with grass smudge marks adoring your skin. All in all you look like a hot mess.

“What the fuck happened to you lot? You’ve been gone all night.” Questions Laszlo as he walks into view from out of one of the hallways, his eyes scanning over a perfectly clean and handsome Nandor, then over to the dirty crew and disheveled Guillermo who’s got some leaves stuck to his hair.

“I don’t know.” You snap sarcastically, “How about you ask Mr. Dodgy-shit-stick over there.” Referring to Nandor who’s looking anywhere but you, keeping as silent as ever.

Gullimero looks between you and Nandor, then back at a confused Laszlo. “Oh, um they’re not speaking to each other right now.”

“And why the fuck not?”

Guillermo sighs before leaning towards Laszlo, “Nandor wanted to graffiti where the werewolves live and Y/N said he’d get caught and then Nandor said no I won’t and then he did.”

Laszlo raises a curious brow, “That’s it?”

“Oh, um....” Guillermo awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, suddenly pulling off a green leaf, “then they chased us to the park and when the pack closed in on us Nandor turned into a bat and left us behind so Y/N had to fight one of them off so we could escape and now we’re here.”

“Well that sounds rather exciting.”

“Not at the time.” Whispers Guillermo to no one in particular as he glances over at the camera.

“Huh,” Mutters Laszlo thoughtfully, scratching his beard as he thinks of how to help this situation, “well if you two dingbats aren’t talking to one another I believe Nadja needs you Y/N. Something about....well actually I’m not entirely sure.”

Perking up ever so slightly at this positive news, you cross your arms over your chest defiantly, “Well since someone does, I’ll be going then.” You grumble with a low growl at your Nandor who’s refusing to make eye contact while he stares frustrated at the floor.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Laszlo watches you stomp angrily up the steps before turning his head over to Nandor who’s now watching you leave with big sad eyes.

“Alright why’d you do it?” Interrogates Laszlo with a raised brow.

“Do whaaat?” Replies Nandor defensively, his once high and mighty aurora reappearing in an instant.

Rolling his eyes, Laszlo sets a hand on his hip sassily, “Well I sure as hell don’t want an angry Y/N wandering around this old place for the next however the fuck it takes you both to make up....in however fashion that may be. So I ask again, why’d you puss out and flee like a mangy opossum?”

Pursing his lips together in apprehensive embarrassment, Nandor mutters to himself before finally crossing his arms over his broad chest and sighing, “Because......I....I don’t know I panicked!” Exclaims the large vampire, causing Laszlo to start laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

Wiping a fake tear from his eye, Laszlo lets out a few more chuckles before finally composing himself, “My good man that is the second saddest thing I’ve ever heard. The first being when one of my many victims offered me one of their rare and exclusive Poki-muns card which I still have no idea what the fuck they were on about. Anyways, doesn’t matter, all I’ll tell is that you better make it up to her.”

“But she’s scary when she’s angryyy.” Whines Nandor with a frown.

“That’s all women my young pup, but since your lovely lady is a vampire she’s more dangerous.” He says while giving Nandor a kind pat on the back, “So uh, stay safe out there.” Adds Laszlo before turning and walking down the hallway leaving Nandor with his thoughts, Gullimero, and the documentary’s camera crew.

“What are you all looking at!” Snaps Nandor to the rest of the room.

——

“Oh my goodnessess that’s awful, my poor dark angel.” Soothes Nadja as you take a moment from your long and needed rant about the adventures in the park and Nandor’s cowardly stupidity. “That big hairy rhino doesn’t deserve you Y/N.” She reasons honestly, doing her best to make you feel better, knowing all to well the level of competent decision making skills of the other two vampires in the house.

“I know.” You mutter in agreement, your body tense and agitated as you pace back and forth in front of her as she sits in a chair, “Fucking beautiful idiot prick horse-fart of a husband. Urgghhh!” You proclaim loudly while throwing your hands into the air angrily, causing the furniture in the room to screech backwards across the old flooring at your outburst of vampiric energy. Nadja’s long obsidian hair blowing backwards as you do so while she keeps seated, unflinching.

Face softening, she gives you a sympathetic smile, “Oh my lovely fierce lioness, I know exactly what will make that sad little frown turn into a happy one.” Beams Nadja with an excited clap of her hands.

Hugging your sides, you let out a frustrated huff before giving your old friend a shrug, “What do you have in mind?”

——

“So we’re at the carnival!” Claps Nadja in delight as she smiles at the camera, “This will hopefully relieve Y/N’s pent up angers and keep her mind off of Nandor.....for now.” She adds a bit uncertainly.

“HA HA take that fuckers!” You shout joyfully from behind her, the camera panning over to you at the ball toss where you’ve been knocking down plastic bottles with a rubber ball. The stall owner cowering in the corner as he shields himself with a stuffed zebra.

The camera focuses back on Nadja, “I think it’s going really well so far.” She confirms with a convincing grin. “Relieving all that..uh....rage.”

After winning a stuffed snake taller then you and deciding to wear it as a strange fashionable scarf, you and Nadja are wandering the carnivals streets while people watching to pass the time.

“So that’s why I never walk on the roof after 3am when I’ve had homeless man’s blood.” Rambles Nadja as your thoughts about Nandor come trickling down into your brain and nose. Huh, strange, must be cause you’re still wearing a thin red scarf of his.

No, stop thinking about him.

“Good lesson learned then,” You add with the flash of a smile before nudging her shoulder gently, “hey you wanna watch me win you something cool?”

Perking up in an instant, Nadja smiles a devilish fangy grin as she stops to eye up the multiple game stalls, “Why I would be delighted my dear Y/N, how about....um, oooh I want that giant tropical fishy with the long whiskers over there.” Points Nadja as your eyes travel over to the game stall with the large prizes.

It’s a game that requires the individual to shoot an arrow directly on three different sized bullseye’s stationed at various heights. Smiling like an idiot, you nudge your vampiric acquaintance in agreement, the both of you quickly swaggering over to the carnival game and it’s plush flashy prizes just screaming to be won.

“Hello good sir, my skilled roommate Y/N here is going to win me that fish.” Beams Nadja proudly as the teenager jumps off his chair to greet the two of you.

He smells like weed but surprisingly looks decent all things considered, “Uh yeah alright, two bucks for three arrows, hit every target directly on the middle red mark and if you make it on the bonus poster on the far back wall then you’ll have a chance to win that fish, good luck.” Mumbles the kid unenthusiastically as you slide him the cash.

Picking up the shitty yet still functional carnival bow, you give Nadja a wink before fitting an arrow in the nock and pulling back, lining up the shot and releasing directly into the first target to the left. Smirking to yourself you quickly draw again, hitting your second mark just as intended. Pays to be a skilled archer huh.

“Damn that’s pretty good aim.” Nods the teen as he watches in awe as you fit another arrow, releasing and punching a hole in the middle of the third target.

Nadja claps in excitement from behind you, “Yes! Win me that colorful fat bitch my feisty lioness!”

Standing like a warrior ready for battle with your bow in hand and wind blowing in your face, the kid almost drops the arrow he hands you for the winning shot as he practically swoons.

“Get those scissors ready, that fish is mine.” You growl in determination while picturing Nandor’s head as the final target, drawing back, you let the arrow fly straight into the bonus target. Winning Nadja her giant fish plushy.

“Yessss!” Shouts Nadja in delight as you drop the bow onto the table like a bad bitch before eyeing up the kid with a raised brow, “We’ll be taking the fish now.”

Wide eyed he almost falls off his chair, “Wait um, that’s the last one...I didn’t think, uh, my boss doesn’t want me to give away those ones.” He stutters out.

“What!” Snaps Nadja, “Then why are they just hanging there? You lied to us you little shit!”

“I’m sorry.” He pleads apologetically, “That’s what my boss told me. And no one ever wins the big prizes anyway so I didn’t think...”

“Well your boss he can eat a big horse turd cause I’m taking that fish.” You growl before jumping up and unhooking the fish from its perch above your heads, handing it to a practically glowing with joy Nadja who immediately hugs the thing.

Sticking your tongue out at the teen, you and Nadja turn to leave before a boney hand is suddenly on your shoulder, twisting around in an agitated instant, your face is mere inches from the wide eyed boy as he attempts to look even a tad bit threatening.

“No.” Is the only thing that slips from your tongue before your hand shoves him back, his whole body going air bound into the back of the carnival tent while the kid lets out a panicked scream.

“Ooooh Y/N that was very sexy of you.” Smirks Nadja while wiggling her dark brows, “Too bad a certain cowardly lion wasn’t here to see it.”

Petting the stuffed toy snake around your neck absentmindedly, you smile back a fangy grin, “Yes. Too bad.”

Continuing on your late night stroll through the carnival you both pass by random strangers, families, elders, children, and lovers all minding their sweet business completely unawares to the dark supernatural world walking right past them.

Although you’re quite enjoying this time spent with your best friend in the whole wide world, a low dull feeling of emptiness can’t help but creep into your undead being the more you catch sight of new and old couples walking together.

Sensing your growing sadness, Nadja nudges your shoulder playfully to gain your distracted attention, “Hello in there my black rose, what is on your mind?”

Holding the snake close to your body, a small smile creeps its way onto your face knowing she’s looking out for you, though it’s gone soon enough, “Oh you know....uh....blood.” You mutter unenthusiastically, trying to keep your thoughts away from Nandor and how much you miss him right now.

“Blood is it? But we just fed before attending the carnival.” Inquires Nadja in confusion as she keeps a normal pace at your side while the two of you follow the sidewalk past various shops and restaurants. “What is actually plaguing your mind my dear one?” She wonders with a frown, not keen on seeing you upset and in a grey mood.

Biting your lip anxiously, though not hard enough to draw blood, you walk past a couple more people before your eyes catch the sight of a small black bat disappearing behind a corner building just up ahead.

Squinting your eyes, your nose suddenly catches the scent of someone very familiar, “Nandor?”

Turning her head to face you, Nadja’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “What? No my sweet hurricane, forget that mangy old bear he’s not important right now.” Urges Nadja as she looks forward, suddenly surprised to catch a glimpse of someone who looks a lot like Guillermo racing behind the same corner you saw the bat fly behind. “Okay um what the fuck? Did you see that too?”

Glancing at Nadja you nod before quickening your steps as she does the same, her skirts flowing as she tries to catch up with you, though you’re much faster and with lack of annoying dress material, “Wait! You’re too fast.” Yelps Nadja.

Ignoring her protests you book it down the sidewalk like a maniac, almost running into a jogger before skidding round the corner of the brick building and coming face to face with a wide eyed Guillermo who gasps in surprise. Nudging him to the side, your eyes immediately fall upon the nervous fangy grin of your Nandor.

He gives you a shy little wave before shuffling awkwardly in place, awaiting your rampage of verbal and possibly physical assault that he’s certain is in the near future.

Taking a deep breath, you cross your arms over your chest defensively, “Were you following me?”

“Um, well.....I might have been....but only to make sure you were okay.” Mutters Nandor honestly, eyes shifting from you to the ground nervously as he awaits your wrath.

Pursing your lips together in thought, you shake your head before taking off the stuffed toy snake and holding it firmly in your hands. With a low growl do you grasp the snake in your right hand and hold it back like you might swing at any moment.

“You’re a fucking nincompoop you know that right?” Slips from your mouth without an once of anger lacing your words, instead do you hand the snake to Gullimero as Nandor watches in puzzled fear.

Taking a swift step forward, you point a finger into his strong chest while looking sternly up at him, “Racing off and leaving me too fight that angry bitch all by myself, and now following me when I needed a break from you! Nandor....... you’re something else.” You add with a shake of your head.

“Yes I know, and I’m sorry my love.” Smiles Nandor with saddened eyes, “I promise to keep you save from now on and fight off any werewolf who tries to hurt you....even if I am scared.”

Taking a step back, you can’t help the smirk that forms onto your face at his sweet words of forgiveness and sincerity. You know how much he fears werewolves and that he fled the scene thinking you were planning on following too, not realizing that you might actually give a shit about Gullimero’s and the crew’s lives.

“Oh my dear puff dragon,” You declare softly with a small smile, reaching both hands out to grasp his own, “I forgive you.”

Nandor’s face breaks out into the biggest and happiest grin you’ve seen since his last birthday when he walked into your shared crypt only to find you naked and holding a bushel of red roses while seated seductively on his coffin.

“Oh that’s fantastic because I was really missing you.” Reveals Nandor with a gentle squeeze of your hands. “Laszlo and Guillermo can’t make me laugh nearly as much as you can, they’re honestly rather boring.” He says before leaning in closer to whisper, “and not very attractive to look at either.” Causing you to crack another grin and your undead heart to fill with butterflies.

Chuckling you reach up with one hand to pull his collar closer to you and a second later do your lips clash sweetly against one another in a heated moment of passion. He smiles into the kiss before moving to pull you in closer with both of his hands, one slipping low to cheekily pinch your round bottom.

Feeling him against you once again has to be the best sensation in the whole entirety of the world even if you’ve only been separated for a couple of hours. You absolutely love the way his fingers dig into your back and bum with an animalistic eagerness that’s slowly starting to drive you insane. Oh, the things he does to you.

Especially how his tongue slips into your mouth with ease while you tug at his hair long dark locks. “Y/N!” Suddenly shouts Nadja.

“Nandor!”

Begrudgingly pulling away, you turn around to face the confused lady vampire while Nandor hugs you from behind, happily smirking at her, knowing she can’t do anything to hurt him now. “Yes Nadja.” You answer.

With the fish plushy hung over her shoulder, her brows furrow in confusion, “What the fuck are you doing? I thought you were mad at him?”

“Yeah well, I was starting to really miss him and also I’m kind of horny now so.” You reply with a shrug as Nandor hugs you tighter, resting his bearded chin against your head while Nadja huffs in defeat.

“Alright. See you at home then.” Adds Nadja before turning towards Guillermo and shoving the giant carnival fish into his arms, “Hold this Gizmo I’m going home.” Then just like that she’s gone in a black wispy poof, flying away in bat form towards the vampire resistance on Staten Island.

“Okay then.” Mutters Gullimero as he looks up at the dark sky.

Feeling a wet kiss on the side of your face and neck you smile before turning around to face your dear husband, “Shall we take flight to seek out our bed chambers?” You speak slyly in a soft yet seductive voice.

“Yes.” Grins Nandor with a flash of lust and excitement before turning his attention over to Guillermo, “Hey Guillermo I’m leaving to make passionate love to my wife so don’t bother us or I will have a rat shit in your pillowcase. Okay?”

You giggle to yourself as Gullimero’s cheeks redden while he side eyes the camera, “Understood master. Have fun.” Squeaks out the loyal familiar as he stands there awkwardly with his hands full of two carnival prizes.

Nandor sneakily squeezes your bottom once more as he gives Gullimero a knowing smirk, “Oh, we will.” Then a second later you two are flying high above the city in bat form, ready to make love to your sweet Nandor for probably the twentieth time that week.

Down below the camera pans over to Gullimero as he blinks, “Well uh, I have these things now..” He says, holding up the fish, “and I am so not looking forward to cleaning up their mess.......again.”

#I love me some himbo vampire what can I say #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #Nandor #Nandor x reader #nandor x you #nandor x y/n #wwdits #what we do in the shadows x reader #fanfiction #my fanfic

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eternalsimp · 4 years ago

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Cursed Fears (pt 2)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Word Count: 3703

Warnings: NSFW 18+, Aged up Megumi, mentions of violence, character death, swearing, use of female pronouns and anatomy, angst, slight praise kink, oral sex (f. receiving) Minors DNI.

Author Note: This is a sequel but it can be read as a stand-alone. pt 1 is up on my blog and pt 3 will be posted soon.

Megumi’s POV

Everything was dark and the smell of blood was overwhelming. I couldn’t tell where I was exactly, I knew I was in the domain of a special grade but I was sure I had gone home to y/n. Nobara, Yuji, and I had exorcised a second-grade curse and had called it a night. So where did this domain come from? How did I get here? I could swear I could hear thunder crack every now and then, but I can’t even remember if there was a storm when I was here with Yuji and Nobara. Where was Gojo when I needed him? I stumbled through the darkness blindly before I was met with a sight that made my heart drop.

Sukuna sat lazily on his throne, his red eyes trained on me in a predatory glare, sharp nails tapping impatiently on his temple. “It's about time you showed up, I thought I was going to have my fun without you. Now that you’re here, we can continue.” Sukuna’s mouth pulled into a sinister grin as I stared at the limp figure at the foot of his throne.

“Y/n…” her name came out as barely a whisper, my throat felt like it was closing up. She was at home studying for her statistics class, I know she was. I shook my head violently before pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. This isn’t real.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer? Not feeling so tough anymore are you? You were so confident you could take me on earlier, so come on, take her back. Until you do I may have to play with her a little bit more, show her that she was never safe from me.” Sukuna reached down and pulled her unconscious body up into his lap. He held her jaw with one hand and turned her face so I could see. I wanted to scream at him not to touch her, or to hurt me instead, but nothing came out. Every part of my body was frozen in place at the sight of her tortured body. Sukuna could see me struggling in his domain and smirked down at me. He slowly dragged his mouth up her throat and to the shell of her ear. “Time to wake up princess, our guest is here.” Sukuna squeezed her throat at the same time he nipped her ear and her eyes flew open to immediately fall on me.

“No, please let her go.” The words finally came but I still couldn’t move. She looked so scared, the person I love most is in danger and I couldn’t do anything about it. I forced myself forward a single step but it felt like I was sinking into the ground. Why can’t I move? “I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t hurt her.”

“I told you what I wanted, I told you to come and get her. Show me just how strong you are.” Sukuna taunted. With a firm grip on my girlfriend's jaw and his other hand traveling down her body, Sukuna was in complete control. I know I can’t use cursed energy or shikigami here or I would risk her becoming collateral damage, but I couldn’t stand still and do nothing.

“‘Gumi, help me.” Her voice was shaking, her entire body trembling. I wanted nothing more than to whisk her away to safety. Her eyes squeezed shut as Sukunas mouth attacked her neck and left dark bruises in its wake.

“Time’s running out kid, I’m starting to get bored.” Sukuna’s free hand began to snake over her legs, dragging his razor-sharp nails over the soft skin there, leaving angry red scratches behind. Tears began to fall freely from her eyes and I tried to force myself forward again to no avail. Whimpers and cries for help begin to fall from her lips faster, and god I feel like I’m in hell. All I can do is watch as she cries out in fear, heart cracking at every sound she makes. Finally, she says something that makes me feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest

“You did this to me, this is your fault.” My body felt numb at the sound of her broken words. All I can do is shake my head and beg, beg Sukuna for mercy, and beg her for forgiveness.

“Baby it’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“You said you would protect me, why did you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna get you out of here. Please believe me, my love.” I was on my knees before the king of curses now. So close I could pick up on her perfume that smells sickly sweet of roses, but the smell I adore so much was tainted with something else now.

Sukuna clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You know better than to make promises you can’t keep, right?” My whole body was shaking with fear and rage at the curse, but all I could do was bargain.

“Please, I swear I will do anything, just let her go.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, pleading to just see her leave here alive. Sukuna’s nails dug deeper into her throat, drawing blood as it trickled down her neck and chest in small streams.

“I think I’d rather punish you and the brat for trapping me in this vessel. You get to watch as I kill her, and then I’ll switch out with him so he can see what he’s done.” Sukuna leaned down to face me. “This is what happens when self-righteous sorcerers need to learn their place, so don’t blame me for what happens next.”

Fear shot through my entire body at those words. I couldn’t help but scream loudly as Sukuna jerked her head and a loud, sickening crack filled my ears.

I shot straight up in bed as a crack of thunder rumbled through the apartment. My eyes were unfocused as I dragged myself towards the bathroom and a wave of nausea washed over me. I barely made it to the toilet before I was vomiting into it. My knees burned from where they hit the tile but all I can think about was the sound of her whimpers and begs for help ringing in my ears. I was vaguely aware of the shirt sticking to me with sweat as I tried to control my erratic breathing. Thunder cracked again, sounding eerily like the way her neck snapped in my nightmare and I was retching again.

The cycle continued for what felt like hours until I was left coughing and dry heaving. As the panic started to ebb away I noticed the presence of my girlfriend on the floor behind me, running her hands soothingly over my back, and lightly pressing her thumbs into my spine. She had her knees on either side of my waist and was resting her head between my shoulder blades. I reached up to flush the toilet before gently squeezing her knee to let her know I was okay. She wordlessly pulled my sweaty shirt over my head to let the cool air hit my back before lifting herself off of the floor and out of the bathroom.

I shifted my body so I could press my forehead against the hard plastic of the bathtub. After a couple minutes, she handed me a bottle of water and pressed a cold, damp cloth to the back of my neck. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” voice raspy from coughing and throwing up. This wasn’t the first time I had woken her with my nightmares, and I doubt it would be the last. She reclaims her spot on the floor behind me and continues rubbing my back.

“Don’t be sorry, I prefer to be woken up by you going to the bathroom than you throwing up in the bed anyway.” I can’t help but laugh at her teasing and we could both feel the unease begin to fade.

“Yeah, that's a good point. You’re too good to me, you know that?” I moved so that I was leaning back against her chest and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders protectively.

“Nope, I refuse to accept that statement because we are the perfect amount of goodness to each other.” I tilted my head back to rest it on her shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to her neck. I couldn’t help but wonder how I was lucky enough for Nobara to introduce the two of us. It was in the small, intimate moments like these that I knew I would happily go to my grave protecting her.

Reader’s POV

“Okay you know the drill,” you said to him as you held out your hands expectantly. He smiled as he placed both his hands in yours, palm up. You pressed one of his hands to your chest and the other to his so he could feel both of your heartbeats under his fingertips. The first time you did this he scoffed at how cheesy it was, but over the two years of living together, it became common practice for when he was trying to calm down after a nightmare. You didn’t like to press him about the horrors that plagued his dreams, knowing how reserved he was with his emotions, so you found your own ways to comfort him.

“See, we’re both okay. Do you wanna get up to go lay back down or do you need a second?” He shook his head and pulled himself up to sit in front of you again.

“No, I’m okay, but can we do the other thing too?” he asked sheepishly. He turned pleading eyes towards you, and how could you refuse him when he asked so nicely.

“Of course, whatever you need. You or me?”

He took a shuddering breath before whispering “you” so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Your shoulders slumped as that one word told you everything you needed to know. The other practice that became a common occurrence after his chronic nightmares was kissing the other person's phantom injuries. More often than not it was him kissing you, as you were usually the object of his nightmares, like tonight. He liked being able to physically see and feel that the wounds inflicted on you were in fact not real. This nighttime routine often led to some heavy makeout sessions, which then led to very soft and intimate sex.

“Okay baby,” You stand up and move to sit on the side of the bed while he brushes his teeth quickly to get rid of the gross taste in his mouth. While you wait, you find yourself tugging at the bottom of your shorts self-consciously as you shiver in anticipation. After a moment your boyfriend waltzed out of the bathroom and rested his hands on either side of your waist. He bent his head to capture your lips in a slow kiss. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss and you happily oblige him. Your mouths move in a small fight for dominance but a firm hand on your thigh has him easily winning. Your hands trailed up to rest on his shoulders as he took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently.

You gasp softly into his mouth and he brings one hand up to rest at the nape of your neck as he cradles your head protectively. He draws his lips down the side of your jaw, paying special attention to the spot behind your ear that never fails to have you melting into his hands. You tilt your head to give him better access to your throat, allowing him to deliver individual kisses to the spots where you likely had been hurt.

In a swift, fluid motion, he is pulling your tank top off of you and trailing sloppy kisses down your chest and stomach. You lean back onto your elbows as he runs his hands over your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You let out a shaky breath as he begins to kiss his way up the inside of your legs. “Just relax baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” He punctuated each word with a kiss or nip to the inside of your thighs, and you could feel the arousal pool at the pit of your stomach.

You forced yourself to make eye contact just in time to see a devious smirk grace his features. Before you could question it he is yanking down your shorts and blowing cool air onto your core. You yelp and instinctively try to snap your knees shut. He chuckles lowly to himself before tossing your shorts somewhere behind him. He brings his face back between your thighs to lick a long, hot stripe up your core. You gasp loudly and let your arms give out behind you. He reaches one hand up to where you are clawing at the sheets to intertwine your fingers together.

“My pretty baby is already so worked up and I’ve barely touched you. What a good girl.” He lowers himself back down to lap up the arousal dripping onto your legs before sucking your clit into his mouth. You arch into him and groan loudly which prompts him to hum triumphantly around the bundle of nerves. He moves his free hand down to expertly curl two fingers into you and starts pumping in and out at a steady pace. After a few pumps of his hand, he curls his fingers to find the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

The combination of his mouth and fingers working you is dizzying and you can feel it pushing you closer to the edge of your climax. He could feel how close you were and began to move with more purpose, determined to make you cum more than once in the night. With the hand that isn’t intertwined with his, you reach down to tangle in his soft hair. “Wait, I- oh shit- I’m gonna cum.”

He removes the hand that was holding yours from you and brings his thumb down to rub circles into your sensitive clit. “Come on baby, I got you. You can cum for me.” He moves his mouth to rejoin his fingers at your slit to bring you closer to your high. A particularly hard press of his thumb has you crying out in pleasure and grinding desperately against his face. He removes his fingers from you and replaces them with his tongue to help you ride out your high. He greedily drinks up your release until you are weakly nudging him away.

“Do you want me to stop?” He looked up at you innocently, which was contradicting when you remembered the things he was doing mere seconds prior.

“No, I just want to feel more of you.” You could feel a hot blush creep up your body at the realization that he was still halfway clothed, while you laid completely naked in front of him. His brain seemed to process this at the same time because he was quickly ridding himself of his sweatpants and grey boxers.

His hard cock thumps softly against his toned stomach when he stood again and you were having a hard time not staring at the man in front of you. He wasn’t bulky, but the muscles that rippled underneath taut skin were nothing to sneeze at. He glanced up and caught your stare, and returned it with a cocky smirk. “See something you like?”

“I sure do,” you flashed an innocent smile as you sat up and palmed his erection. He gasped at your sudden boldness and leaned onto the bed for support. At this proximity, you were able to tug his earlobe between your teeth and bite down gently. “Please baby, I want you so bad.” Those words snap him back into action and he’s crashing his lips against yours again.

He moves you back up the bed and crawls over your body. He braces his forearms on either side of your head and experimentally grinds his hip against yours. You let out a soft “please” that comes out whinier than you intend. You lean your face up to give him a soft kiss before he reaches down to line himself up with you and slowly presses the tip inside. He shallowly thrusts to slowly work into you, mumbling praises against your skin as he moves deeper.

You can’t help but wince at the stretch his cock always brings you, which would border on outright painful if he didn’t feel so good. Your head falls back against the bed, clawing at his back to try to find something to ground yourself. He glances down to where he is buried deep inside you before pressing his forehead to yours. “I know sweetheart, it's almost there. You’re- fuck- doing so good for me,” he reassures as he presses a soothing kiss to your temple.

When he finally bottoms out he stills his hips to let you get comfortable and adjust to him. He takes this opportunity to pepper your face and chest in kisses and returns one of his hands to your neck where it cradles your head. You bring one of your hands to his hair to tug gently before rolling your hips against him, eliciting a breathy moan from him. “You can move baby, I’m okay.”

He nods and gives a couple of slower thrusts before setting a steady pace. He opted for slower deep strokes which made you feel every inch of him as he thrust into you. His thrusts have his cock brushing all the right spots inside you, and all you can do is gasp and moan for him while clinging to his shoulders. “Megumi, please,” you aren’t even sure what you were asking for. The pleasure has your head spinning and unable to make complete thoughts.

You can tell he is getting closer to his own climax because his thrusts are getting progressively faster and he is getting more vocal. “God, baby you’re taking me so well.” He hooks one of your legs around his waist and the new angle lets him hit your sweet spot with every roll of his hips. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel another climax approaching, and Megumi picks up his pace again.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me again?” You bury your face into his shoulder and nod. He moves one of his hands to play with your clit to push you over the edge. You arch into him and let out a strangled moan as your orgasm washes over you. You’re sure you’re leaving deep scratches across his back as you grip him tighter. His hips stutter as you clench around him and he gives a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s cumming too with a loud groan. He unconsciously rocks into you lazily as you both come down from your highs.

“Are you okay baby?” He kisses your forehead and strokes your side to try and bring you back to reality. You nod again, not quite trusting your voice yet. He chuckles and slowly pulls out to not overstimulate you. You squirm at the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs but he’s already moving to the bathroom to grab stuff to clean you up.

When he comes back out he runs a warm cloth along the inside of your thighs and quickly over your center, which has you wincing at the sensitivity. When he's done he pulls out a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his loose shirts for you to wear. He helps you slip the clothes on and tugs his boxers back up before climbing back into bed with you.

You stand up to crack open the window next to the bed before laying with your back against his chest. The cool air from the rain seeps into the room and he mutters a “thank you” into your shoulder, surprised that you remember he runs hot for the rest of the night when he has a nightmare.

The clock on the bedside table shows that it's about 5:30 in the morning, so you estimate that he woke up roughly at 4. “Do you feel okay enough to go back to sleep?” You feel him shrug behind you and you scoot closer to him, pulling one of his arms over your waist to lace your fingers together.

“I don’t know. I should but…” you hear his voice trail off and nod in understanding. He always has a hard time falling back asleep on nights like these. He warned you about his chronic nightmares shortly before moving in together and confessed that he’s had them since he started high school at Jujustu Tech. However, you take small comfort in the knowledge that since living together they’ve gotten less frequent, and his reactions to them have become far less violent.

“Will you feel better if one of your shikigami sleeps in here? Just so you know that nothing will happen.” He considers it for a minute before tugging his hand out of yours, circling his other arm around your waist, and folding his hands to summon his divine dog. Its head pokes out of the shadows under the window. You pat the empty spot on the bed and it jumps up excitedly before laying down and letting you scratch behind its ears.

Megumi chuckles behind you and shakes his head. “You just wanted the dog on the bed didn’t you?” He reaches over to ruffle its soft fur as it dozes off.

“Checkmate,” you crane your head to place a kiss on his cheek before settling back against him. “Now will you please try to go back to sleep? I don’t want to nag you but realistically you can’t function on only two hours of sleep.”

“I’ll try but I can’t make any promises you know.” He tucks his chin on top of your head and relaxes around you. You hum in acknowledgment before slowly drifting back to sleep.

#fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x reader #jjk #megumi fic #megumi smut #anime #fanfic #megumi fluff #megumi x y/n

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awesome-cookies-and-cream · 4 years ago

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time for a history lesson kids

Iso anyway after 9 years of waiting (oh god) my dreams came true and hetalia finally has my country featured. And my first instinct is to draw a precolonial Philippines and then headcanon the shit out of it based on all my readings

i knew an Anthropology degree was gonna be useful someday

so anyway head canon history lesson time. gather round kids. I took this college program for a reason:

I feel like the recent Philippines would be born post 1565 after Miguel Lopez de Lagzpi. That boy must be a considered Mestizo ( mixed-race individuals, who were born from intermarriages of the Spaniards and merchants with the indigenous Filipino (Austronesian/Malay/Malayo-Polynesian) natives)

But let’s assume he is an Indio (who somehow lost all his tattoos?? oh well) then there’s an angsty and slightly badass headcanon that he actually killed absorbed all the other representatives from other tribes. they don’t die easily (unless harmed by economic struggles/or i guess hurt by fellow representatives) so it kinda explains the whole Bayani concept of undefeatable heroes. (we love our epics about heroes don’t we?)

That said! (our precolonial ancestors’ history is pretty badass tbh and very brutal. i wouldn’t put it past him to actually have killed all the other reps. We literally have a headhunting sport haha) let’s get on to the cultural aspects shall we?

I based most of this from the Boxer Codex’s illustrations which probably is centered around Visayas and Manila settlements for obvious reasons that they were found first. (they deteriorated first too :’) but since I’m from Visayas, the info i can give you are better off being in Visayas (also he has a tarsier lmao. mostly found in bohol. i hc him to be in Visayas. I’m sorry)

the obvious parts here are the tattoos which if you think looks kinda like the one in Moana, you’re right. it is (somewhat) we may also have descended from the same Austronesian ethnicity from Taiwan or China (most SEA countries did actually. there are many conflicting theories for this and most of you guys learned the Otley-Beyer’s wave migration theory WHICH IS WRONG PLEASE FORGET ABOUT THAT SHIT. IT’S VERY RACIST. something about calling negritos inferior because of the technology sits very wrong. throw that multi linear cultural evolution thoughts away and say fuck you to Morgan and Lewis and also say fuck you to DepEd for not changing it. anyway

the point is virgin Otley Beyer, chad Peter Bellwood. Listen to Austronesian Wave Migration theory (you’d find this evident in the way southeast asians to melanasia and pacific islanders share linguistic similarities. i can’t find that teletubbies salamat meme

but let’s talk about pre-col culture because I’m rambling now. everyone probably knows that tattoos are a symbol of social roles from your HEKASI lessons. they are the Pintados. It’s a sacred tradition where you earn them at every achievement. you start at your legs and trail up to your face. the ones on the chest that look like breastplates are awarded after you win a head from the head hunting (which yeah they think of the head as a holy place too so they eat it, thinking they’ll consume its holiness) the face tattoos are for the greatest warriors (and seeing he’s an immortal country, he would have face tattoos) different tribes have different patterns, but you usually either see snake patterns or sea patterns (thus the zigzag)

fun fact: cebuanos were very ruthless pirates haha. we are voyagers my dude. we devised long ranged boats way before sailing was a major thing. much like in moana. you can see traces of it in the traditional fishing boats with those braces on the side to keep balance. it’s cool. point is, water is a very large way of life. (i think you also earn a tattoo from sailing but I’m not sure)

the deep red dye is an honor given only to the bravest warriors. the longer your putong or headdress is,the braver you are. we also used gold like it was nothing. (magellan had to stop his crew from trading their stuff into gold haha) we used it everyday and even placed them in our teeth. (YES WE HAD DENTISTRY BACK THEN) our art and aesthetics believe in the pride of our bodies thus we decorate it, believing we are past primitive thoughts by modifying the human body. so we didn’t care about property, we cared about our appearance. we are also culturally expected to strut our new tattos and piercings with pride. speaking of piercings men and women were expected to pierce their ears and wear large ass earrings.

the precolonial cebuano is a showman (and we still are). you show off these accessories with finesse. you need to live the art. walk and make those golden bracelets jingle. so if you feel like being dramatic, that’s the spirit of your ancestors encouraging you to be dramatic hahaha

(funny enough the ye olden people thought the spanish were poor and backward for not ornamenting their bodies.only a monkey would have white teeth like that and undecorated skin! yeah love how we chismis like that way back then too)

one last side note. we wore cock rings/piercings too as status symbols okay bye

anyway I have more to talk about pre-col phippines. we haven’t touched gender roles (pre-col philippines would also be very chill about gayness and transwomen are even venerated into priestess positions. it’s all cool so pre-col philippines is definitely not cis haha and probably chill about not being straight yay indophil)

anyway yeah

#hetalia #hetalia world stars #hws asean #hws philippines #hws indophil #pre-colonial philippines #i really wrote this instead of my essay huh

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wilteddaisies · 4 years ago

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Yours - Chapter Two

Azriel x Female!Reader (acotar)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You are Feysand’s daughter and you’ve just come home from your studies in the Day Court. Azriel needs someone with extensive training in magic in order to complete a mission for the Night Court. You happen to be just what he needs.

Fic Warnings: age gap?, probably cursing, eventual smut, wing kink ;)

Chapter Warnings: cursing, injury, mentions of blood, angst, masturbation

Note: Finally more Azriel! It was surprisingly hard to hold myself back while writing this chapter. I wanted to write the angst and the pining, but in my head I just wanted them to love each other already lol. But don’t worry, that part will come soon ;). It won’t be the only thing coming soon. Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER TWO

As you gazed at your reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, you realised that you really did look like a mess. Your eyes had dark circles under them and your whole body seemed to sag with exhaustion. You turned the water to practically scalding, waiting a moment for it to heat up before you stripped off your dress and then followed with your undergarments. You stepped into the steaming shower and hissed as the water hit your body. Your muscles sang in thanks to the scalding shower.

After using your favorite jasmine scented soap, you finished up and stepped out of the shower. You dried off but then quickly realised that you forgot to bring clean clothes into the bathroom with you. Cursing, you wrapped your towel around you and reached for the door knob. Hopefully, Azriel was still passed out and you could just grab the clothes.

But, when you pushed the door open, you found him sitting upright on the bed. Forgetting your state of undress, you rushed over to him.

“Az, you're awake!” You tried to gently push him back down to the bed. “Lay back down before you strain your back or your wing.” But, he resisted, taking your hands in his instead. He took note of your appearance, his words escaping him for a moment at the sight of your flushed cheeks, damp hair, and bare legs. He tore his eyes away from where the towel was struggling to conceal your breasts and cleared his head.

“Did you do this?” He looked at his nearly healed wing. You nodded. “How. . .” he began, “How long was I out for?”

You glanced at the clock on your dresser. “Just a few hours.” you shrugged.

“You managed to almost completely heal my wing in just a few hours?” He looked at you with a peculiar expression on his face. Was that awe? Admiration? Surely not. You looked down, trying to hide your blush and you nodded again.

“I may have learned a thing or two in the Day Court.” you said with a little smirk. But you should be proud, even Helion praised you for your ability to pick up magical techniques so quickly.

“You certainly did.” That was definitely a new look. Azriel looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. “Maybe you can fix these hands next.” he says jokingly but also with a sad sincerity. You look at his scarred hands still holding your own. He looks too, as if remembering that he still held them. His brows furrow at them, as if he resents that his rough scars are touching your smooth, unblemished hands and tries to pull them away but you don’t let him, holding on with a gentle firmness.

“No, Az. Please. Don’t pull away, not from me.” You tried not to be hurt by his actions, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you with his scars but that he was ashamed of them. But, he shouldn’t be ashamed of them. Those were the same hands that fought to protect Prythian in two wars, the same hands that carried you over Velaris to go on adventures in the city while your parents were busy, the same hands that held you steady as you were learning to fly, and they were the hands of the person you loved so deeply with your entire being. You raised his left hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to each and every scar littering the back of his hand, his knuckles, his fingers, and his palm. Then you did the same to his right hand.

When you looked back up to meet his eyes, you saw that tears were falling from them. Azriel, who never cried, was weeping in front of you. And the sight shattered your heart. Had no one ever shown him this love? How often did he feel loved and secure and appreciated? Not nearly enough, not by a long shot.

You took his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist. They immediately tightened, drawing you closer. Your breath hitched for a moment, but you leaned in to kiss his cheeks, trying to catch each tear. Your arms snaked around his neck and as you met his eyes once again. But this time, along with adoration, you found smoldering intensity. Your gaze drifted down towards his lips and ever so slowly, you leaned towards them. They seemed so warm and inviting, plump and slightly parted as he was breathing a little heavier. Your eyes drifted shut as your lips finally brushed his. For a moment, you savored them, their softness, their taste. But they had only just touched when he pulled away, gently pushing you away with his hands that were just around your waist.

As your contact broke, shame coursed through you, you took a few steps back, adjusting your towel. Fuck. It was the wrong thing to do. You must have misread the atmosphere in the room. You opened your eyes but kept them glued to the floor, slightly panting from the moment you just shared.

“I-” His voice sounded choked and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “We can’t. . . We shouldn’t have-”

“I know,” you interrupted, curt. And there you were, with him still sitting on the edge of the bed and you nearly four feet away. The awkward silence that ensued was unbearable.

“I should-”

“You should-”

More awkward silence. . .

He sighed. “I should go.” Azriel stood up and turned towards the door. You looked at him again.

“But your wing-”

“Is practically healed, thanks to you. I’ll be fine. Thank you, truly. I don’t know

what might have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

You blushed at his praise. He looked at you as if he wanted to say more, but then thought better of it. He gave you one last smile and walked out of your room, shutting the door. You slumped down onto your bed and tried to forget his rejection.

You tossed and turned in your sheets, gods damn it you couldn’t fall asleep. After using magic to clean Azriel’s blood from your sheets, you got dressed and practically fell into bed, thinking that the exhaustion of using your magic would pull you under. But no, your pulse was still racing, your skin still burned from his touch, and your core ached every time your thoughts drifted back to the feeling of his lips on yours, of his hands tightening around your waist. You pressed your thighs together hoping to relieve the pressure but it just made you yearn even more for his touch. Your thoughts drifted even further, to the image of his sculpted abs on display, even more defined with the gleam of sweat. You wondered how they would look above you, with his muscled arms on either side of your head while he pounded into your-

Fuck. You gave in. Your legs spread and your fingers drifted towards your center to find yourself unsurprisingly wet. You moan softly as you imagine your fingers as Azriel’s. You teased your clit, lightly petting it before drawing circles around it. You lightly jolted at the zap of pleasure. Your free hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that escaped you. You slid one finger inside you with ease, then another, hissing at the pleasant stretch. You thought of his eyes, their smoldering hazel seeming so deep you could see into his very soul.

You adjusted the angle of your hand so that your palm pressed against your swollen clit with every movement. You felt a tightening in your stomach, you writhed as your core tightened further, and clamped down on your fingers as you finally fell over the edge. You bite on your hand to keep from crying out in pleasure. Your thoughts are still on him as you come down, your pussy throbbing and legs trembling with the aftershocks. You leave your fingers inside you for a moment more before pulling them out, savoring the feeling of the slight stretch of your walls and how you could feel yourself throbbing around your fingers.

Fuck, you wish it was him. You feel tears start to well in your eyes and your heart cracks at the realisation that he will never be yours, never love you as you love him. He’s one of your father’s best friends, he’ll never see you as anything other than a child. You know this and yet you still want him, yearn for him, need him. You fall asleep on a damp pillow.

You wake up the next day with not nearly enough sleep, but you got up anyway at the sound of talking from downstairs. You threw on a robe and left your room to find out what was going on. Still trying to shake off the haze of sleep, you trudged into the dining hall, which had now been turned into a makeshift meeting area. Your mother, father, Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel stood around the mahogany table which was covered with books, maps, and other various papers. You tried to avoid Azriel’s gaze, not that it was difficult, he seemed determined to look at everything else other than you.

“Perhaps it could be sedated with a poisoned arrow,” Mor suggested.

“Tried that,” Az countered, “the thing just knocked the arrows away, as if it was swatting flies, and any arrows that made their mark merely bounced off of its hide.”

“Shit,” Feyre huffed. She was the first to notice your quiet entrance. “Sweetheart, what are you doing? Go back to bed, you must be exhausted from using so much magic.” She walked over to where you stood at the entrance of the dining hall and embraced you. You leaned in to her comforting touch, but as much as you wanted to rest, you knew you couldn’t until you figured out what to do about Azriel’s mission.

“I can’t, mom. There’s work to be done.” You gently escaped her hold to peer over the documents on the table. Maps, more maps, a blueprint of the castle’s underground chambers, and was that-

“A wyvern,” Cassian answered your unspoken question. The beast in the ancient drawings looked ferocious. That was the thing that Azriel had tried to bypass in order to access the weapon? How had he even managed to fly or winnow home?

“We just have to find a way to get around the bloody thing,” Amren huffed in annoyance. “It’s fast, and strong. Even against a fae. Maybe we could get Helion to brew us an airborne potion or maybe come up with a weapon that can be used against it. But he’s dealing with trouble in his own court at the moment, it could take weeks to even-”

“Let me go.” The silence was instantaneous. All eyes snapped to you. “I can use my magic to subdue it. Or I could try to talk to it.” The wariness in their eyes turned to confusion.

“Huh?” The confused sound came from Cassian this time. “Did I hear that wrong or did you say you could talk to it.”

You smiled, “Being a daemati is good for reading more minds than just those of the fae and humans.” Everyone looked to Rhys, who thought about it for a moment.

He finally shrugged, “I guess I never cared enough to try. But, in that case, I’ll just go with Azriel instead.”

“Dad, no-” But your mother already beat you to it.

“Oh come on, Rhys. You were doing things much more dangerous than fighting wyverns at her age.” She took his hand and pleaded to him with those gorgeous blue eyes that you inherited, batting her eyelashes, as if it would help convince him. It would. “We had our epic adventure. Maybe it’s time for our daughter to have one of her own.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but then he looked at you, the spitting image of your mother with a temper to match, and with his own midnight black hair. He looked at you and saw the strength that you inherited from both of them. It was his duty as a father to protect you from harm, but it was also his duty to help you grow, whether it be as a woman, a fae, or a warrior. He finally sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. But,” he turned to Azriel with a glare icy enough to rival Azriel’s own signature glower, “you bring her back in one piece. Or I will feed you to the wyvern myself. Or worse, I’ll hand you over to Feyre.” Your mothers face broke into a wicked grin and you could see there was some truth in his words.

You squealed and hugged your father, then your mother. And then you looked to Azriel, who had been ignoring you the entire time, but finally looked up to meet your gaze.

And with just a touch of a mischievous glint in his eyes he said, “Let’s go on an adventure.”

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading and for the notes on the last part! I am SO FUCKING excited for this next chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. If you wanna to be added to the taglist for this fic, you can leave comment below :)

I do not consent for my work to be reposted or translated on tumblr or any other site, but reblogs are always welcome!

Taglist: @moonchild-cf @pansexual-booknerd @huffypuffyme @tinkymae @peneflop @myfuckingacademia

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel smut #azriel fluff #sarah j maas #feysand #nessian #acowar #acomaf #fanfic #illyrian #my writing

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

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A Sister’s Intuition:

A/N: The gif has nothing to do with this one. It just made me chuckle cuz this most certainly has fighting.

Also, this is a weird mix of Arthur actually killing the church dude, but instead of Linda trying to shoot him right after like in the show, this story is like the event that causes her to go off the rails and try to shoot him (and fictionally, Y/N lol can you imagine). So this, in my fucked up mind, is the calm before the storm that is the lovely Linda with a gun.

Trigger Warnings: Fighting obviously, Mentions of Blood, Angst, Family Drama?, Cheating, Taunting, Swearing.

Word Count: 2,114

Characters: Shelby Family x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes, well it was suggested but still. Long story short I have a bone to pick with my brothers gf and this was cathartic.

Request by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Linda is being Linda and Y/N can’t stand her messing with her brother Arthur’s head another day. She just snaps. People and their feelings get hurt. Nothing like a nice bloody family dinner at the Shelby-Gray household.

Y/N’s skin crawled as she heard the voice of the woman downstairs. Her heart racing and fists clenching as she heard the half-hearted laughs and forceful exchange of pleasantries that were painstakingly muttered by the rest of the Shelby family.

As she smoothed out her dress, she heard Polly calling for her, surely to help with setting the table for dinner. With shaking hands she opened her door, her eldest brother Arthur’s laugh echoing through the lavish house as she made her way down the stairs.

“Y/N, nice of you to join us.” Thomas said, patting her on the shoulder as she sulked to the kitchen, avoiding Linda’s ever-judgmental gaze.

“I’ll set the table.” She said, Polly nodding at her with an annoyed expression as she glanced out into the dining room. The feeling fortunately seeming mutual.

“How’s the farm treating you brother? Having fun with the baby?” Ada asked, as Karl reached for one of the rolls in the basket Y/N was setting down.

“It’s good, quiet.” He said, his eyes looking tired and emotionless as the years went by.

“Don’t eat too much now, you won’t want dinner sweetheart.” Ada said, giving him a warning glance as Y/N silently set the table, glancing at Arthur’s troubled state. Thomas couldn’t help but notice his youngest sisters rage as she harshly set the silverware down, especially the knives.

It had been two years since the first conflict between her and Linda. The whole thing starting as Linda slowly brainwashed Arthur. No one really noticed at first, how she sunk her claws into him. How he’d stop his excessive use of cocaine, or his anger fueled drunken rampages on a dime. How he’d mess up on missions, putting them at risk. Or how he started asking Linda for permission to go places and her ordering him to be home at certain times when on business. No one noticed that while some of his habits were best left in the past, he was also leaving part of himself. The part of him that she knew and grew up with. The part that smiled and joked. The part that didn’t question himself and his worth on a daily basis. This was how she pulled him in, and he was forever tied to her now. Seeing as their 1 year old sat in his lap, giggly and oblivious to the pressures and expectations he’d be raised on years later whether Arthur wanted him to be or not.

The big blow up between them though, was when Y/N learned she cheated. If she inherited one good thing in life from the Shelby family it was her intuition. Her ability to sense when a person meant harm. Her ability to know when someone was nothing more than a snake. A soul-sucking, venomous snake.

The night she found out, she made sure Arthur was alright, or at least alive, knowing how he could spiral at any given moment. That was one thing about growing up around a dysfunctional family. Knowing when the others needed help, and knowing when to help set others straight. And he had seemed okay, at least until a few days later.

That same week Arthur killed the man she’d cheated on him with, going down a dark spiral as he grappled with his sins. His eyes brimming with tears and hands stained red as he walked into the house unannounced, nearly giving Polly a heart attack.

Y/N remembering how she sat him down and wiped the tears from his eyes and blood from his busted knuckles as he stared at her.

“These are the hands of a devil, Y/N...how can I be saved like this?” He asked through tears.

“Don’t ask how god can save you. Ask how you can save yourself.” She said, wrapping his hands in gauze.

“What?” He asked, confused. The tears streamed down his face as she urged him to drink a glass of water, given he was already in a drunken state.

“You have to save yourself, Arthur. I can’t do it for you. Linda cheated on you yeah? Well it’s not the first time she’s hurt you. No one else can really see it...not even you...but I can...She’s made you into someone you’re not. You may need to slow it on the drinking and drugs, and get your anger in check, but you don’t have to completely ruin yourself over some words in a book or some girl alright? I want my brother back...” She said giving him a strong hug. She wasn’t known for talking much, always preferring to stay in the background and being quiet, but she threw insults and plans around in her head just like Thomas. But when she did say something, people listened.

The day after Arthur attacked Linda’s lover, she decided to meet with her at her house. The rain pouring down as she made her way up the winding dirt roads, her thoughts running through her mind as she reluctantly stepped inside the farmhouse.

“Oh, Y/N. Wasn’t expecting you.” She said, a disgusted look on her face.

“We agreed last night to meet but I guess you didn’t remember. Must’ve been a bit preoccupied I see.” Y/N said, leaning to the side as she saw yet another man walking around the house that wasn’t Arthur. There was a long, awkward silence before she continued.

“I’m just here to warn you that you’ll get what’s coming to you. You don’t fuck with the Shelby family.” She said spitting at her feet.

“You know Y/N? You’re just like the rest of them. No morals...no class...nothing.” She said.

Y/N smirked as she inched closer to her, standing almost eye to eye. With a quick draw of her arm, she landed a harsh slap to her face. Her handprint stinging and bright red as it adorned Linda’s cheek.

“You’re one to talk about morals and class. People like you make me sick.” Y/N spat, walking off as Linda stood there holding her cheek. Her mystery lover nowhere to be seen as he’d retreated back to the bedroom in hiding, most surely thinking Arthur was there.

As she set the final glass down, she was brought out of her horrendous memories by the voice of her brother John.

“Aye Y/N, how’s your training been going with Finn and the guys? Think you could take him out yet?” He said, a mischievous smirk on his face. Linda scowled as she glanced over at Y/N, probably remembering how her face stung after the blow. The event seeming years away due to the hectic business of the blinders and the growing number of kids in the family.

“I highly doubt she could. Even if she grew up with you lot as brothers. Besides, it’s not ladylike. You can’t fight around the children.” Linda said, sipping her tea.

Y/N’s eyes pierced hers as she sat there. Her appetite fading as she got up from the table.

“Y/N...now’s not the time for this. Sit down.” Polly said, pointing at the empty chair between her and Thomas.

“I have no desire to sit with someone I can’t trust. You’ll get what’s coming to you Linda. I swear it on our mums grave.” She said getting up from the table again, this time making it to the kitchen before hearing quick footsteps.

“You said that last time and nothing happened. What are you going to do? All this family does is make empty promises. You’re just a worthless girl with nothing but her families bad manners and filthy blood money...” Linda continued, Y/N zoning out as she unclasped her earrings and threw them on the counter. Her eyes scanning Linda’s movements as she stepped closer, cracking her knuckles. John got up as soon as he heard her bad-mouthing his sister. Finn stood and made his way near her only for John to hold him back with a smirk, knowing this was long over-due.

She didn’t say anything as she swung a left hook, a loud crack sounding through the room as Linda stumbled back. John cheering slightly as she regained her composure.

“I told ya you’d get what’s coming to you.” She said, as Linda lunged forward and went to slap her in the face, but failing as Y/N blocked her hand and twisted causing a scream to erupt from her lying mouth. Blood was dripping from her nose as Arthur and Thomas came in. To her surprise, they didn’t jump in nor did Arthur try to stop her, knowing all too well his once precious Linda was bound to pay somehow. Polly and Ada shielded the children, holding their hands over their eyes as the mini brawl panned out.

“You’re going to hell!” Linda yelled, punching Y/N in the shoulder as she cried.

“I’ve been there already love, it’s quite nice.” She said moving back and raising her arms up to guard her face, looking for an open spot, eventually landing a final blow to Linda’s ribs that left her on the ground gasping for air.

Thomas suddenly grabbed Y/N’s arm and yanked her back. She wasn’t kicking and screaming, but he could see the rage in her eyes. The way his and Arthur’s often looked.

“Enough. Alright? She got the message. Enough.” He said.

“No. No I don’t think she did. Get off me.” She spat, trying to wrestle her way out of her brothers grasp.

Thomas let go so he wouldn’t hurt her, but watched on as she stalked towards Linda and Arthur.

“You can see how you’ve torn this family up right? I can’t speak for everyone, even for the man you’ve hurt, but I can speak for me and I’ll never accept you into this family again. Never. Now get out of my fucking house.” She said lowly, grabbing Linda’s arm harshly as Arthur tried to stop her.

“Y/N I’ll take her, you go cool down.” Arthur said, his hands shaking a bit as he was still torn between the hurt from Linda’s past actions and the love he had for her.

Y/N stood up with her arms crossed, her knuckles bloodied and aching as she stared her brother down.

“Arthur...do you remember what I told you that night? You have to save yourself. She’s going to keep you trapped in those same situations again if you don’t do something. She’ll hurt you if you don’t watch out.” She said, wiping a tear from her cheek as she shoved past her brothers and Polly, the children crying as an awkward silence fell over the house. She sulked back up to her room, cleaning her knuckles and bandaging them the best she could, knowing everyone probably hated her now.

“What was that aye?” Thomas asked.

“Fucking hell Tommy.” She said, jumping slightly at his voice from the doorway.

“I was just doing what no one else wanted to fucking do. Someone had to make her and our idiot brother see reason.” She said, wincing as she tried to wrap the gauze around her knuckles.

Thomas silently came over and helped her, trying to think of something to say as he snipped the last of the white fabric.

“You all hate me I already know. I just couldn’t sit there as she acted like everything was fine. Like she didn’t hurt him multiple times. She’s nothing but trouble and no one fucking understands that.” She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

“He can protect himself...I’m sure he’ll come around. And we don’t hate you. Besides, if I was betting on you that would’ve been the best fight of the year. I know for a fact you can take down Finn.” He said, trying to lighten her mood.

“I already did, he just doesn’t talk about it.” She said giggling and wiping the tears away as she gave him a hug. He sighed as he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“She also had it coming. She said I had no morals...and no class....I just couldn’t let her talk that way about me...and about our family.” She said.

“Aye she did have it coming, I’ll agree on that. But you can’t listen to her. There will always be people who’ll say those things. They just don’t understand us.” He said.

“Well, they should work on that then aye? I guess next time I’ll try not to beat anyone up. I’m not promising anything though.” She said, Thomas chuckling as she broke from the hug and went into her room.

“I’ll see what’s going on down there. You just rest. But uh,,,do me a favor aye?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“If someone does say something, don’t go at them alone. Tell me alright?” He asked.

“Okay...” she said with a sigh, hoping the night could be over with.

“Good, I’ll see you at the family meeting tomorrow then. Bright and early.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh fuck off Tommy...Goodnight.” She said, play-punching his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” He said, putting his cap on and making his way out the door to whatever family chaos awaited him.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x shelby!sister reader #shelby family #shelby family x shelby!sister reader #can u tell I have a lot of pent-up rage?

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nikethestatue · 4 years ago

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Meet Me in the Silence

Elriel Month - Day 5

Continuation of ‘Forbidden’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled and said, sipping his ale,

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

Her brow furrowed.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Elain almost choked, eyes wide.

“What?”

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

She was laughing, nodding.

“And you?” she asked, at last.

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

He raised his brow suggestively and she smacked his arm,

“Oh, shut up,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

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

She gave him a cool look of nonchalance and recalled,

“You suddenly turned into a poet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like baby,” she blurted.

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

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

“Whatever you want,” he stated simply.

“But,”

He shrugged, “there will always be obstacles,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shook her head,

“No. I didn’t say anything.”

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

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

“Do you need to ask?”

She smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But,”

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

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

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

Sleep, warrior heart

Sleep and know that you are loved

Sleep, warrior heart and meet me in silence

Find dreams and peaceful slumber, my little warrior heart

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“Thank you,” was all he said.

They left the nursery and stopped in the hallway.

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

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

“We will have to meet in silence.”

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

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

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Genji Heavy Industries (End) Turning Point

After all this way, we finally see the MC reach the turning point in her life.

If you’ve read this far, I thank you very much. I hope this has made you love the world of Dragon Raja

You could no longer see Caesar or Chu Zihang, but at this point, you weren’t looking. Your eyes were locked on Chisei Gen. Caesar’s final orders rang in your head like a command from Heaven. Your hands were caked in dried black blood. You were trembling with pain and fatigue, but that last brief surge of Blood Rage had revived your senses enough to stare at him, much like a cat would, eyes dilated and your body flexed. If he moved a muscle, you would draw your weapon.

Chisei watched the flames with resigned calmness however. He was tied firmly and his life was in Caesar and Chu Zihang’s hands just as much as yours was. “MC.” He said. “Where did you learn how to fight like that?”

He’s looking at you now, with the fire reflected in his eyes. His stare was confident. Even though he was asking a question, there was no question in those eyes. No curiosity. It was as if he were asking a question he already knew the answer to.

But how could he know the answer? The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You’d learned how to shoot and hand-to-hand combat from your training in Black Swan Bay. Your training in Black Swan Bay was mostly centered however on your Yanling, focusing your spiritual energy into the ground, learning the limits of your power, how much you could manipulate the earth without suffering physical effects… This was all ingrained into you in a way that bordered on lab experiments with each result meticulously recorded and logged. It was just constant testing and while you were being tested, you learned your power and how to control it.

But Chisei hadn’t seen you use any of that. What he had seen from his vantage point in the mural hall rafters was you, walking out after Caesar and Chu Zihang armed with nothing but the laser sight of a Soviet era rifle and a pistol which you used to bait a member of the Deadpool into attacking their own kind. He observed how closely you could read the actions of the deadpool and how you picked her targets to attack. He heard your giddy laughter echoing on the mural hall walls.

After that, he would have seen clearly how you fearlessly approached that deadpool after she was exhausted, shot her in the head and then used her severed claw as a knife. How you used the non-lethal bullets from your pistol like a fist. How you were using that claw as your only weapon to render these A-ranked super monsters as weak as worms. It was no wonder that he looked at you when he was using Majesty to subdue the deadly and left a few living ones in his trail of mass destruction for you to kill. He had wanted to observe you close up.

When you don’t answer immediately he turns back to observe the fire. “Among the Hydra we have a name for that fighting technique you’re using. It’s called “God’s Eyes”. The heart of God’s Eyes is to subdue the enemy by your understanding of their movements and by your complete control of the battlefield. According to those that describe it, it takes at least a decade to approach mastery of elements of this technique. But you have mastered all of it and you’re so young. I’ve never seen anyone use God’s Eyes like you. You had to have learned from a master… but there are no masters of this technique. Only a few books that reference it or reference other works that describe it. It’s a technique that’s lost to history.”

“There’s only one man I know who can use God’s Eye on your level. And that’s Hilbert Ron Anjou. But you two just met a few weeks ago. Right?”

His eyes watch your face, but you nod, completely innocent, and his eyes narrowed to slits. You just stare back at him. He finally sighs. Whatever theory he may have had about where you learned your technique collapsed.

“Anjou can clear a room with just his pocket knife. Just like you. I don’t know anyone else who can do that.”

You do, of course, but disclosing that involves your deepest secrets and given the huge deadpool tank you found at the bottom of Genji Heavy Industry, you can be excused for not exactly trusting this man with secrets about your past. “Perhaps after this is over, we can talk more. Over sake?” You ask, taking a page from Caesar’s book.

“I would like that.” He sighed again. “I would also like to know how someone like you ended up with these people from Cassell?”

“I ask myself that every day.” Your lips quirk upward.

This was the first time you actually had a moment to sit and talk with Chisei Gen one on one and it actually wasn’t that hard. It took your mind off your pain enough for you to crack a little joke. Chisei lowers his eyes and, much to your delight, he chuckles and your smile grows.

“For my last moments, if these are my last moments… I suppose I could have worse company then these weirdos. My only regret is that Lu Mingfei isn’t here. But knowing him…” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, imagining him flapping his arms and squawking about how much danger you were in. “...nah, I'll take that back. What I really regret is that if we don't make it out of here, he’ll have lost all his friends. I know how that feels. I don’t want him to feel that.”

You rest your head against the wall of the elevator and gaze out into the flames. “Looking back, my life is very odd. Even if you ask me a thousand questions about myself, I wonder if I would even be able to answer a single one. Simple things like… where were you born… Who are your parents? Where did you go to school…?” Your voice trails off. After a moment's thought, you shrug.

Chisei looks at you, silent.

A burst of gunfire and a sudden sharp explosion made you squeak and flinch! This was it, you think, this was the end. Was it really going to end this way? Caesar’s last order was to make sure that Chisei Gen did not touch the elevator door, but he also told you to stop seeking death! You only had your miserable little peashooter pistols, your miserable little claw and your miserable little knife and your miserable laser pointer.

You were suddenly struck with a sudden and intense desperation like nothing you’d ever felt.

You force yourself up to your feet while Chisei Gen sits there astounded. “What are you doing?” Chisei shouts.

Your voice is choked off as you stagger toward the elevator door, groaning with intense pain, but this fierce determination drives you forward. Chisei can now see the full view of your ruined back, your skin-tight combat suit is torn to ribbons where the Deadpool’s claws sank deep into muscle tissue.

Caesar and Chu Zihang were visible again! Caesar held two Sten submachine guns with both hands and Chu Zihang had one. The two back to back were using the bullet screen to suppress the group of deadpool while moving slowly in the direction of the elevator shaft. The group of deadpool that had been overturned by the shockwave of the explosion regrouped, their hideous golden eyes surrounding Caesar and Chu Zihang, the bullets repeatedly knocking them to the ground as they repeatedly straightened up and charged forward. The only thing that protects them is the bullet screen in front of them, and once the screen disappears the group of deadpool will pounce and bite.

You stand in the door, a silhouette in the light of the flame, shoving a magazine into your pistol. Your black hair is being pulled by the intense flaming winds like you were standing right in the breath of a massive creature. You finally relent. You finally gave in. You finally believe the last words of your friend. You finally believe the words of Caesar and the eyes of Chu Zihang.

You have to live!

The pale red columns collapsed one by one. The hot wind and black smoke rampaged through the hall, the frescoes curled in the fire, and the painted dragons and snakes finally flew away in the black ash.

The two rival men were fighting back to back, and the group of deadpool were getting closer and closer, so close that Caesar once passed the barrel of his gun into the deadpool’s open mouth before shooting it out. Chu Zihang stuck his sword and Onimaru in front of him, so if a deadpool got too close he would draw his blade and force it back, and then pick up his gun and fire. But sooner or later the bullets will run out, just like a man holding a torch to scare the wolves would eventually see that torch go out.

So you wait, watching them, hand on your pistol, observing the battlefield with God’s Eyes! You knew how many pieces of ammunition you had and, from your observation of Caesar’s reloading, you could make an estimate of how much he had left. When you determined that they were close to being out of ammo, you raised your pistols and opened fire!

The staccato rhythm of your pistols is like the rhythmic hits of a boxer’s gloves. The bullets strike the sensitive areas of the beasts, their eyes, their open wounds, their burns. They hiss and flinch as though being stung by a sudden swarm of bees. You drop the empty magazine and reload and shoot again and again and again, cursing them with the deepest and blackest of words.

Each bullet was precious, like a drop of life’s blood. You couldn’t waste a single one. You watched the behavior of these monsters. If they reached for your friends, your bullets stung them like the whip of a ringmaster before vicious tigers. If there was even a possibility that they might think twice about doing it again, your quick and painful punishment gave them pause. If they hesitated, you rewarded them by not shooting them. But if they looked ready to pounce you shot them where it hurt.

Your support is just enough to turn the tide. The resistance of the deadpool falters and this time it doesn’t recover. If they rise up they’re either hit by the two men and if they’re not hit by the two men, they’re hit by the pistol fire.

A strange noise like the pop and snap of firewood shifts your focus and your pistol swivels and points at Chisei. “Stay Down!” You roar.

Chisei’s face is a mask of pain. His body was writhing strangely, his joints were all dislocated, and the bones moved independently of each other. It was like his arms had turned into spaghetti!

“I said stay down!” You lower your pistol to his ankle and pull the trigger.

Click. Your eyes widen.

Chisei smirks. “You’re out of bullets. It’s okay…” He grunts. “I’m not going to run. If they want blood…” He gasped. “I’ll give them blood.” Before you could comprehend what was happening, he suddenly freed himself from his restraints by wiggling out of his shirt. His bare chest looks like an ugly bag of broken bones! He cut himself across the wrist with Dojigiri, staining the white fabric of his shirt red. He stood up and walked to the elevator entrance and threw the shirt into the fire.

With that last act, Chisei Gen completely collapsed. You tried to catch him but the action pulled at your wounds and you both went down to the floor. Both you and he had given your all. You let him fall to the floor and just tried to annoy them with your laser pointer while you grit your teeth, but the Deadpool had a far more tantalizing target in mind already. You realize what’s happening, but you can’t pull the unconscious Chisei back into the elevator. You’re so choked with smoke and exhaustion you can’t even call for help.

"What's going on?" Caesar couldn't believe his eyes, the smoking muzzle points to the ground. The guns in his right and left hands stopped firing, but still no monsters pounced on him.

They were about to run out of bullets when the swarm of deadpool suddenly withdrew from them and scrambled to slither up to a corner of the hall. A minute ago they were still a seasoned suckling pig roasting in the fire, and now they suddenly turned into a disgusting slop, and the whole group just left.

"Hurry! Run!" Chu Zihang yelled.

Caesar suddenly woke up. Tight now they do not have time to think about the rationality of this miracle. The fire burning C4 explosives may explode at any time. It was still too early to celebrate. They simultaneously took off running. They shed off every entangling weight, taking off their heavy windbreakers, which still had scattered firearms and bullets in them. There was a loud bang and a searing wind behind them. It was some piece of C4 explosive behind the shaded wall that had exploded. It was so powerful that it completely took the wall down.

The first thing he saw when he cleared the smoke was you struggling with Chisei in the elevator door. His fury spurred him faster. He was coming at you like a raging bull. You couldn’t even begin to explain! Caesar didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, and blood exploded from Chisei’s calf.

“Caesar!” Your voice is a useless squeak. Caesar had grabbed Chisei and unceremoniously tossed him like luggage back into the car.

Chu Zihang picked you up and hit the door close button on his way in.

The pain woke up Chisei and he was just about to struggle to sit up when Caesar rushed into the elevator and threw a straight punch at his face.

“Stop…” Your voice is just a hiss, and you realized that you’ve completely lost your voice. Perhaps the heat, the dry air, and your screaming in pain had ruined your vocal cords.

The chain of explosions had already begun. Blinding sun-like lights are lighting up the corners of the hall as waves of hot air swept through at speeds that exceeded those of a hurricane, setting other blocks of explosives ablaze. The old freight elevator squeaked and closed with difficulty, and with a few centimeters left in the doorway, a hot air stream a few centimeters wide burrowed into the elevator, a bright red that ignited the remaining files in the car. But the elevator door finally closed.

It slowly sank into the elevator shaft, and a few seconds later there was a heavenly explosion from above, and a bright wave of air rushed into the elevator shaft, throwing the burning corpses of the deadpool into the void. The snake shadows burned in the fire, their fat dissolved, until gradually the bronze skeletons were revealed. These tyrannical creatures finally were cut off from life, and as they died they gathered around a shirt and shredded it..

As the freight elevator rumbled down, Caesar stomped hard on the burning documents, and then lay down exhausted on the file box, and kicked at Chisei’s face.

“Stop it!” You hiss. But Chu Zihang held you tight and you were far worse off than he was. Turned out that weird period style armor had actually protected him quite a bit. You dug your nails into him but he didn’t even flinch.

Chisei said nothing, powerlessly wrapping a cloth band around the wrist wound. He had cut an artery, and soaked at least a fifth of the blood in his body into the shirt. He made his shirt irresistible to the monsters. The result was that he couldn't even stand up. Caesar wasted no time, tying him up even tighter.

You’re breathing a bit easier now. Instinctively, you take deeper breaths. As your adrenaline lowers, fatigue crashes again like a weighted blanket. Breathing now became agony, but with no voice, no one could hear you moaning. There’s just the strange whistling noise, like the soft whine of a little dog.

"What do we do with this guy?" Caesar pointed at Chisei with the Desert Eagle.

You don’t even lift your head.

"It's naturally best if we can take him prisoner. But it's hard to leave Genji Heavy Industries by ourselves in this situation, and it's even harder to take him away." Chu Zihang said. He tilts his head down to look at you. “She doesn’t seem to want any harm to come to him.”

"How about using him as a hostage threat? There is no way the Yakuza would give up the precious Emperor, right?"

"It's hard to make sure we're not followed, Tokyo is the Hydra Yakuza's home turf, and we won’t be able to escape it no matter how much we run.”

"It seems the best way is to shoot this guy. Sooner or later the Academy and the Hydra family will have to go to war, such a precious weapon can not be left in the hands of the other side. Anyway, his body is flowing with dragon blood, I have to kill him as a dragon slayer!" Caesar pulled the bolt and loaded the gun.

No way! Caesar hadn’t killed anyone this whole time! And now that you’ve come this far and you had fought beside Chisei and he’d saved all your lives, he was going to kill him?

You jerk against Chu Zihang and try to sink your teeth into him. His strong arm tightens. He whispers so softly you can barely hear it. “It’s a bluff.”

In a moment of silence, you hear something else sigh.

There were only four people in the elevator, and you heard a fifth breath!

The side wall of the elevator car suddenly caves in! Before Caesar had time to react, the monstrous bony claws penetrated the sidewall and plunged into Chisei’s ribs from behind! Blood rained down like a fountain on the sneak attacker's face as it let out an ear-piercing scream of joy!

Even Caesar was stunned when he saw the Deadpool, even though they had just stepped out of the hordes of Deadpool that were trying to kill him. This Deadpool was so amazing. It was more than twice the size of the others! The longest of them was over five meters, the shortest was only about three meters, and their upper bodies were about the same size as a human, gradually getting thinner and longer below the waist, before finally taking on the shape of a snake. But this monstrosity is more than eight meters long. Its abdomen is bloated, like a pregnant queen ant. It dragged this overly deformed lower body upward but fell down, so it had just arrived at the mural hall. It became the only survivor. It was attracted by the smell of Chisei's blood and recklessly tore through the elevator car..

This deadpool had the face of a middle-aged woman, and her face was not as pale as the other deadpool. Instead, it was rosy and lustrous, like a woman who had become rounded in pregnancy. Caesar took a glance at its abdomen and suddenly understood. Its snow-white, scaleless abdomen had snake tail-like traces shining through. This was really a pregnant Deadpool and a pregnant deadpool could only give birth to those more fearsome than itself, because the fetal dragon blood would be purer. The fetuses also seem to have felt the freshness of the blood of Chisei and are stirring in the mother's body.

What had been suspected all along was confirmed, the Deadpool was capable of producing offspring, and this bloated, deformed mother's womb was breeding devils!

The Deadpool clung to Chisei, licking the blood excitedly. Chisei clung on to the handrail to keep from being dragged into the elevator shaft. Deadpool's bloated body weighing hundreds of kilograms hangs below the elevator by that single grip.

Chu Zihang presses his hand firmly on your mouth. You wanted to scream in rage, pure frustration and despair. But the monster hadn’t noticed you at all yet. You were too weak to fight this thing. You all were. You said ‘no more sacrifices’ but now you really had no more to give but yourselves, and this monster wanted Chisei. You could get away scot free if you left him behind.

Caesar tried to aim several times in the process of raising his gun, but he had no chance of hitting Deadpool, who was hiding behind Chisei. If he fired, he would first have to injure him, and it was unknown whether the force of the bullet could do that and injure the deadpool. He just fired a shot at Chisei but now he needs to shoot him again. But Chisei is extremely pale from blood loss. He originally had a feminine beauty, and now he looks like a dying girl. His soul is leaving his pale body. If he suffered another gunshot wound, Chisei could certainly die.

This world was so black, so dark, that the minute you started to believe that perhaps Caesar could be right and you could live and you could live with all your friends, that scythe of death came to collect its taxes on your happiness. You hated this world, you hated this life!

Deadpool licked the back of Chisei’s neck with her long tongue. Her sharp teeth are seeking the veins in his neck as she begins to give birth to her babies. The green and white snake-like fetuses fell one by one.

At this time there was a "thump" sound above the elevator, and the speed of the elevator's descent suddenly increased. The elevator filled with boxes of documents was close to the upper limit of the load. The weight of the giant deadpool plus the four of you exceeded the limits of the elevator, not to mention that it was running in the fragile track after the earthquake. It was slamming into the depths of the elevator shaft at an accelerating rate, at which point the Deadpool would of course be smashed to death, and the four of you would invariably be buried with her.

"Shoot!" Chisei yelled with his last strength.

You watched Caesar look into the eyes of Chisei in surprise.

"Shoot me! Hit me in the neck! Its head is right back there!" Chisei spurted out a mouthful of blood.

Caesar gritted his teeth fiercely. He was ready to shoot.

But his fingers were trembling, it was as if the blackness of the world had surrounded him and was pressing in on him, closing in and laughing, mocking him. You stood in that darkness and you could offer no answer. After all, what mercy had the world ever offered you?

A mere few days ago, you wouldn’t hesitate to reasonably make the judgment that sacrificing one person can save everyone, and it's worth doing. But now you stared at Caesar and shook your head. You didn’t want to live in a world without his justice.

You take your bronze claw dagger and stab it into Chu Zihang’s side! Caesar turns at his gasp of pain. You rise up like a lioness to seize Caesar’s wrist and push it upward, pointing the Desert Eagle in the air. You’re face to face with him and bare your teeth.

"’Never leave a friend’ is your justice.” You force the words through your dead vocal cords. Your eyes stare into his eyes and they’re cold and black as the ice sea. “I live for your justice and I will die for your justice!"

Caesar stares for a moment and, for that moment, the cheeks on either side of his face grow gradually pink.

Chisei suddenly smiled. He rarely smiles. His smile is surprisingly beautiful.

"Gattuso-kun, in fact, I have thought about being ...... friend of justice." Chisei let go of the handrail and was instantly sucked into the void outside the elevator car.

Caesar barely prevented you from plunging out there with him in your effort to stop him. He threw you back against the door of the elevator. Your vision exploded into sparks and for a moment you couldn’t move.

“Chu Zihang!”

The elevator suddenly stopped, pressing you to the floor. You blink your eyes open. Caesar and Chu Zihang are gathered by the hole in the elevator wall, shoulder to shoulder. They weren't moving, in fact, they were grunting with great effort. They were backing up from the gap and in their hands was the rope. The rope that he’d tied Chisei up in was being pulled up back into the elevator and attached to that rope was Chisei!

You gasp and crawl forward. He was unconscious, pale like death. His sword was stuck through him, front to back, but he was alive. He was still alive. Caesar looks down at you, but oddly doesn’t meet your eyes. He looks shy, almost embarrassed?

“We need to find a way out of here.” Chu Zihang, ever practical, hands you the claw dagger back. You stare at it a moment and then tuck it in your belt to let Caesar carry you out.

Together, you climb out of the elevator and into the darkness of the shaft, until you take a rest on the beam. Caesar is puffing on a cigar. You’re sitting in Caesar’s lap like a child. Exhausted, you’re turning the bronze colored claw dagger over and over in your hands, watching the play of light on it.

You all sit in silence like this for an hour.

Your head was burning and you felt numb and yet, deep down, the arctic ice that had held onto your soul since waking up at Cassell was starting to fracture and the summer sun was beginning to rise. You rest your head against Caesar’s chest and look up into his eyes.

He lets out a puff of smoke. “You’re not going to fall for me, are you?”

Your eyes narrow and then you huff. “No. I was just thinking…You weren’t going to let me die from the moment we met, right? You stinker.”

Caesar tapped the ash over the edge of the beam. “So you finally get it.”

“Uh huh. I’ll always miss my friends.” Your lip trembles a bit but you once again control it. “But… I think… with you… That’s okay.”

Caesar bit his cigar and grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

You lower your eyes to Chu Zihang who had been tending to his own injuries and was now working on Chisei’s many wounds, while he rested on the beam. “Sorry, I stabbed you.”

“It was impressive.”

You laugh, unsure of how to respond to that.

The building was chock full of Hydra operatives now. You couldn’t leave the elevator shaft yet. They were probably all looking for Chisei so you had to wait for him to wake up.

Chisei started to stir under Chu Zihang’s medical care. Caesar carefully settled you against the wall of the shaft and catwalked over to stare down into Chisei’s eyes. He pulled the last cigarette from his pocket, stuck it in Chisei’s mouth and lit it, the fire illuminating the man’s pupils. Chisei struggled for a moment but he was still in pain and tightly bound.

"The emperor hybrid is really different, huh. A serious wound like harakiri only took an hour to heal. I want to have such a good body.." Caesar moved the lighter closer to his face and illuminated it to Chisei, showing his healing injury. In the next moment, he’d kicked Chisei off the beam. The rope pulled taut where the end was tied and Chisei Gen hung from it.

"Won't you consider untying me?" Gen Chisei smiled bitterly, "It's a little inconvenient to smoke and hang from a rope."

"Not quite. With someone of your low integrity, I still can't believe you. The minute I untie you, you’ll assault us again.." Caesar gripped his cigar, "Let’s just have a good conversation."

"Is the family style of the famous hybrid Gattuso family that shameless?" Chisei exhaled a puff of smoke.

"You call this shameless?" Caesar shrugged, "If you think this is shameless, you haven't met my studly old man." After a few seconds of silence Caesar mumbled. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. At the time I really wanted to escape and leave all you behind. I'm not a friend of justice. I've done a lot of bad things, I've killed people."

"Ghosts?" Chu Zihang asked.

"We call them Ghosts, but they are actually the same hybrid species as us, only more likely to become deadly." Chisei whispered, "To some extent all of us are ghosts."

"The mural is ruined, but we took pictures. Although you do not want us to, we have to take these pictures. The Academy and the Hydra are now in a hostile relationship, and now that the Deadpool group is also finished, your cooperation with us is over, and we all revert to hostile relations." Caesar took a drag on his cigar.

You listen to the conversation and your heart is surprisingly calm when you hear that you won’t be seeing Chisei any time soon. Chisei looks up at you. “I guess we’ll have to make plans for sake later?”

Caesar gives you a look of sharp disbelief.

You stick your tongue out at him. “I meant it as a lady.” But you offer no further explanation. It wasn’t his business.

"Then you have to leave quickly, with my recovery speed, this rope won’t hold me for long.." Chisei smiled again.

"You can’t fool me. This rope can tether an elephant. I also tied it with a sailor knot, so the more you struggle, the tighter it will get. Your body is not as strong as we thought. You super hybrids are slightly stronger than us, but your bones and muscles can not be compared with a real dragon. You might be worse than those deadpool but the minute you release your Yanling you’re defenseless. In short, you're strong, but not necessarily without flaws." Caesar sneered.

"Well, well you guys see through me. What do you want to do with me?"

"It was too difficult to take you away, and, in the end, I decided to leave you here. Your men are looking all over the building for you, but they didn't expect you to be hanging in the middle of the elevator shaft just yet. Seriously, I think that Assistant Sakura likes you a lot, don't you?" Caesar waved his cigar.

"I'm not getting a girlfriend until I leave Japan, and isn't it a bit much to ask a woman like her to give up her life to go to France with me to sell sunscreen?"

"Isn’t that exactly like leaving behind your status as the head of the big family to go to France?"

"I am a person who has done a lot of evil. My hands are stained with the blood of many ghosts, fleeing to France to settle down would be good, I am not going to France, I’m trying to escape." Chisei said leisurely.

"You said you also want to be a friend of justice?" Caesar raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone wants to be a friend of justice when they are children." Chisei said faintly.

"Are you mocking me for still being stuck in a child's state?" Caesar gave Chisei a poke and sent him spinning.

You giggle. It hurt but that struck you as funny.

“What are you laughing at?” Caesar smiles at you.

You reply "Friends of Justice are the words from Ultraman, a cartoon for kids."

"Ultraman?"

"Superman who came to Earth from the universe to help Earthlings fight alien monsters. The heir of the Gattuso family should not have seen that kind of thing. We all watched it when we were kids. In elementary school, kids could be seen discussing which Ultraman was more powerful and saving their lunch money to buy plastic models of Ultraman. Did you do this MC?”

“No,” you chuckle. “I was a Sailor Moon fan. And James Bond fan.”

“Ah…” Chisei sighs. “Ultraman said his fans are friends of justice. We are friends of Ultraman, so we are also friends of justice. The more powerful monsters will be defeated by the friends of justice. Every episode they say that, so as children, we are convinced." Chisei mumbled slyly, "One year school performance, I went on stage to sing the theme song of Ultraman, I still remember the tune ......"

"Beep beep beep,

lots of monsters.

Look behind you,

beasts through the street there,

just to your left and right.

Can't get enough, can't get enough.

Fly one foot and hit three low,

don't presume to fly away.

Who comes from the universe to fight for freedom?

Who will be faithful to defend the world?

It is you, the great friend of justice!"

You clap your hands. “You have a good voice, Chisei.”

This scene is really weird. The big head of the Japanese yakuza and the only emperor hybrid hanging in mid-air singing the theme song of "Ultraman". The heir of the Gattuso family, Caesar Gattuso and A+ blood Chu Zihang, and you, the S-ranked young woman, are his audience. Everyone should have laughed, but no one did. All of you had childhoods that were long gone, and you paid respects to them the same as you would a long dead ancestor.

The song ended and Caesar clapped his hands.

"But I didn't become a friend of justice, I became the bad guy." Chisei said softly, "My friends are bad people. Yasha turned out to be a street fighter. Crow is a loan shark organization's strong man. Sakura is a killer. And I have done a lot more bad things than you can imagine. You might think the Japanese executive bureau is here to maintain order. But more often, it all just ends in bloodshed.. The mob is like this. In this business only violence speaks. The ones who are the most violent are the loudest. We live by doing evil. We belong to a family. We must be loyal to it. For the benefit of the family, we may strike at the innocent. For the benefit of the family we can sacrifice our companions or ourselves. Everyone can be sacrificed so that more people can live a good life. This world is so cruel. I am not Hikari Ultraman.I can not save everyone. If doing evil can make my people live a better life, then I am willing to become a bad guy."

"Bad people can become good, but bad things will never become right." Caesar said.

Chisei made the effort to give Caesar a look, "At your age you can still say such things, Gattuso-kun. I envy you."

"Is that another Japanese style taunt?"

"No, people who strongly believe in justice are happy people." Chisei said softly.

Caesar was silent for a long time and raised his eyebrows: "What a bitter thing to say. But there's no time for your bitterness, I hear footsteps approaching, it's your people looking for you, right?"

"Goodbye then, have a good trip." Chisei said.

"The next time we meet, we'll be enemies again. Can't we say some warm and fuzzy goodbyes?"

"Don't get involved in this. Leave Japan if you can, this is not something you can get involved in."

"That kind of bullshit might as well be Saying Sayonara.”

"Sayonara." Chisei said softly.

"Sayonara." Caesar said, "People who could have been friends end up like this. The world isn't cruel. It’s Bullshit.”

You stare down at Chisei. You want to say something, but you feel like you and Chisei were strangely similar. You were both violent people and trained to be so from an early age. You both felt similarly when Caesar spouted on about justice and being right and good in a world that was cruel.

“Chisei… please don’t give up…” You whisper, but your voice is still hoarse.

“Come on, girl, he’s not worth your time.” Caesar once again lifts you up on his shoulders like a child and starts to climb. But you look over his shoulder. You and Chisei lock eyes as he hangs there in the void and you keep looking at each other until you’re both out of sight.

#Dragon Raja

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peter-pan-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

My anaconda don't

Just some chaoticdumbass!reader antics my brain spat into my mouth this afternoon.

Pairing: Loki X reader

Word count: 1,200+

Warnings: swearing, mentions of mind control?, stabbings, sorry if you have ophidiophobia.

I also apologise in advance to anyone who doesn’t actually want to read this. You’ll have to scroll through the entire thing to get past it. My laptop has been fucking up and so I’ve had to post this from my iPad which is just the mobile app on a bigger screen and it won’t give me the option to put a “keep reading” cut. Sorry.

~~~

After all the nonsense with Thanos and the infinity stones, it had come to light that Loki had been under some kind of psychological manipulation at the hands of Thanos during the attack on New York.

Due to this revelation, while still under scrutiny, Loki had been allowed to spend however much time among the rest of the team as he liked, just like his brother.

Much to Thor’s delight, the team slowly warmed up to Loki’s occasional presence as he could find something in common with almost any member.

His quick wit could match the sass of Stark, A happy discovery that Tony made was that Loki also enjoyed a strong drink.

His combat skills he enjoyed demonstrating in sparring matches with Bucky or Sam.

Bruce he’d managed to bond with after the fall of Asgard and their time together after meeting again on Sakaar.

Natasha he truly respected after she managed to manipulate him into confessing his motives when the Avengers had him in holding briefly in 2012.

Clint was still very stand off-ish, understandable, and while Natasha had assured him there wasn’t a threat there, Loki didn’t try to win over the man, knowing full well the mistrust one would experience toward someone who had invaded their mind.

Being one to appreciate books and learning, Loki got along really well with Steve, and the two could often be found in the kitchen together either sitting in a comfortable silence while each read their respective literature, or sometimes in a discussion about something Steve had most likely grumbled about while reading the newspaper.

You, however, he had the best relationship with.

You’d joined the avengers shortly after Thanos had been defeated and the stones had been returned to their place in the timeline.

A former mercenary who’d been the private security guard to a local underground arms dealer.

When that arms dealer had revealed he’d been holding into some Chitauri weapons he’d gotten his hands on after New York, and that he’d decided to start selling them as he’d finally figured out how all of them worked and how to manufacture his own ammunition, you’d turned on him.

No amount of money or job security would convince you to allow those weapons back out onto the streets.

So you’d gathered up all the weapons before he had a chance to get the word out, apprehended the man yourself and taken it all straight to the Avengers compound where you handed him and the weapons over to Stark.

He admired your honour and obvious skill -given the thug was hog tied at your feet without a scratch on him, suggesting that you managed this quick and easy- and offered you a place among them.

You had accepted after being told there would be free accommodation in the tower to move into at your own leisure.

You and Loki often sparred and competed in the training rooms. You loved watching him delicately twirl his daggers around as if they were a part of him and not the deadly weapons you knew them to be.

He had taught you to do the same after you demonstrated perfect aim when throwing his beautifully weighted daggers at the targets.

You were skilled in hand to hand combat and many different types of weaponry but hadn’t taken the time beforehand for showing off or playing.

You were both witty and could go toe to toe in a verbal debate, often leading to someone (most likely you) drawing a hidden knife out to make a point.

You both also enjoyed a good prank.

And that was todays problem.

You were absolutely fuming as you walked into the huge kitchen looking for the God of Mischief and cracking your knuckles when you found him sitting at the table like he usually was, flipping through one of his many books.

You didn’t look to see who else was in the room but you could feel their eyes on you.

He didn’t look up when you walked in but you could see the amusement on his face.

Obviously sensing something was up, Steve looked up at you from his seat at the other side of the table as you strode from the hallway and across the room with the most determined expression he had ever seen on your face this early in the morning.

“Y/N?” he asked worriedly only to have you hold up a finger to silence him.

You didn’t even look at him as you stared down the dark haired god.

“Loki,” you stood in front of him and kicked the leg of his chair, effectively turning him to face you.

The amused look on his face never wavered as his eyes met yours, in fact his smirk grew as he saw the rage behind your eyes.

That tipped you over the edge.

“Thor?” You turned to where the huge man stood by the coffee machine. “Asgardians heal a lot faster than humans right?”

“They do,” he said carefully, not trusting your motives.

“How much faster?”

“I suppose a wound fatal to a human would be healed completely after maybe a day or two for an Asgardian,” he shrugged.

“What about Frost Giants?,” You asked as turned back to Loki noticing the smirk was still plastered across his face but there was something else. Fear? Unlikely. He definitely dreaded where this was headed however.

“The same if not faster,” Thor’s answer was all you needed.

Drawing one of your knives seemingly from nowhere, you brought the blade down straight into Loki’s thigh.

He hissed in pain and jumped backward slightly in surprise, the harsh noise of his chair scraping along the tiled floor piercing your ears.

He stared at you in shock as the others looked on in amazement that you’d caught the Trickster so of guard.

“What the-,” he began, but you bent down to get in his face and cut him off.

“Go and get rid of it,” you said firmly, pointing down the hallway you’d initially come from.

The smirk returned to his face as you seethed before him.

“Get rid of it now,” you drew another of your knives and pointed it at him. “Or this goes in your other leg,”

“But you said you liked snakes,” he feign innocence but his voiced dripped with what you could only described as sadistic joy.

When you woke up not a half hour before you stormed into the kitchen this morning you’d heard a strange thud coming from your bathroom.

A thud followed by the sound of the hand towel hanger, rattling on its fixture like something was running against it then the soft *plop* of the towel falling to the ground.

Confused but not (yet) fearful you rose from your bed and opened the door only to slam it shut immediately.

“When I said I liked snakes I meant something like a python, the cute little ones with fat heart-shaped heads and little puppy faces,” you were shouting at this point. “I did NOT mean a full grown anaconda left to knock shit over in my fucking bathroom. Go and get it out. Now,”

You stormed off in the direction of the elevator, heading for the training room to blow off some steam, leaving the team members who witnessed the early morning assault in shock.

“Where the fuck did you get an anaconda?” Tony finally broke the silence.

“I may or may not have stolen it from the zoo,” Loki replied plainly before cursing and wincing in pain and he pulled the knife from his leg, eliciting a small laugh from Thor who watched from across the room.

“Not fun being stabbed is it, brother?”

#loki fan fiction #loki #loki god of mischief #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki x you #loki crack fic #marvel fanfic #avengers x reader #avengers reader insert

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the-neverletmegoxo · 5 years ago

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The Fae and the Prince

Author: Ok! Here we go Part 3! Let me know your thoughts!

Summary: Finally Caliban and Reader have some alone time.. :)

Part 3:

Caliban made his way around the column, stepping slowly toward the Gallu. The only problem was you didn’t know exactly where the creature went. You moved your head to the right to see if you could get a better angle around the column. Your heart sank. The Gallu was staring right at you. You didn’t dare make a sound or move an inch. You remembered that they can sense any sound or movement.

You covered your mouth with your hand, as you tried to muffle a cry. ‘Of course Caliban had to leave you alone at this exact moment’, you thought.

A tear rolled down your cheek, when out of nowhere you heard Caliban yell “Et invenies in hoc libro, quod post tergum historia in qua egressus es!” as he jumped up and slammed a book over the creature’s head. A bright red light flashed before the both of you and the Gallu disappeared before your eyes.

You let out a breath you had been holding the entire time and slowly slid down the column; tears welling in your eyes. Caliban rushed over to you and knelt beside you.

“Y/N? Y/N are you alright?” He placed both hands on the sides of your face. His eyes were filled with concern as he grazed his thumb along your cheek wiping away a tear.

“Y/N talk to me, please, love.” You looked up at him, suddenly realizing how close the two of you were.

You leaned up toward him and placed a chaste kiss on his full lips as a ‘thank you for saving you’.

As you went to pull back, Caliban pulled your face back towards his. Without skipping a beat his lips were back on yours, this time deepening the kiss. Your hands instinctively went to the back of his neck and up through his locks. You both slowly stood up without breaking the kiss. You both pulled each other closer as he lifted you up off the ground.

Your legs snaked around his as he lowered one of his hands to the nape of your lower back. You pulled back to take a breath and stared into the prince’s eyes. He brushed a piece of your hair back as he sat you back down. You didn’t want this to end, but he was the prince of hell and you half fae, half angel. You pulled yourself back down and walked away as your hand immediately reached your swollen lips.

“Y/N.”

“Caliban.”

“Are you alright?” he said breathlessly.

“I’m fine”, you said trying not to make eye contact. “I need to get back to work. Can you please leave?” You glanced up at him.

“How did you know?” he asked staring into your soul.

“Know what? What are you talking about?”

“You knew exactly what that was. How in Satan’s name did you know that?”

You walked towards the table with the stack of books calling your name. “I—I don’t know..”

“Y/N what aren’t you telling me? What do you know? Surely Sabrina couldn’t have told you everything.”

“I don’t know Caliban. I don’t know what I know. I’m in Hell for heaven sakes. One minute I’m a normal teenaged girl and the next my mom is sitting me down telling me about my family history and that the world as we know it is not in its normal state and for some reason I’m supposed to help my father, who I’ve never met, fix it. At the same time I have to help Sabrina claim the throne; stop the pagans from taking over Greendale. It’s just a lot for someone who hasn’t even taken the SATs yet!” You didn’t realize how loud you had been yelling at Caliban until you hear “yet” echo in the library.

You slumped down and slumped your head on the table. Unbeknownst to you Caliban sat down next to you and placed his hand gently on your back. You turned your head toward him and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, I just have a lot going on that is all piling up at once.”

“I understand, Y/N. You can trust me though. You can tell me anything. I won’t say a word.”

You looked at your will those enticing green eyes. The same one’s you saw in the forest.. You knew it was him that was watching you. You knew it was him who was drawing you, you just didn’t know why. You didn’t know why there was this electricity between the two of you.

‘Maybe…’ you thought ‘Maybe if you shared with him what your mother had shared with you, he could shed some light to the situation. I mean he wasn’t of the mortal world. He knew things that you didn’t. Sabrina was still new to her role.’ You weren’t sure she would know about your kind.

“Ok. If I tell you this, three things must happen. One: you tell me everything you know about the subject without leaving anything out. Two: you don’t tell a soul and you don’t use what you know against me or Sabrina or the rest of my family. Three: you leave me be after, for the time being, and let me do my research for Sabrina.”

“Technically, love, that was five things.”

“Caliban…” you said in annoyance

“I’ll let it slide”, a devilish smirk growing on his face. “You may continue.”

“Ok, here it goes…” You told him everything all about how when you were young you loved playing in the forest, how you were drawn to it. You told him how your mom was a botanist at the local flower shop and that’s why you thought you loved herbs and all things that came from the earth. You went on to tell him that you think it’s because your mom is a dryad and you father is an angel who is a watcher and who specializes in geomancy, rocks and soil.

You told Caliban how you grew up learning stories of Heaven and Hell and all things mythology related and how that’s how your interest grew in storytelling, history and art. As you were saying all of this, you slowly realized it’s because it is all in your nature. This love of everything is in your bones.

After finishing your rant about your entire life, the two of you sat in silence for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes.

“So…” you said, breaking the deafening silence. “Everything makes sense now..” he said in a whisper.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“I mean you. You. I get now why there is this current between us. It explains why your aura is green and why your eyes glowed when the Gallu attacked. According to what I know about fae, which is a sign that trouble is near, without even knowing something bad is coming.”

“What do you mean the current between us?”

“You don’t feel it?”

“Umm.. I mean I guess there’s like a little static between the two of us, but I just thought that was because I was in Hell.”

You hated deceiving him, but you were sure he could read you like a book. He grabbed your hands and looked you straight in the eyes.

“Y/N, the feeling between you and I is real, but it’s a warning. You see, our kinds can never be together. A demon and an angel, even though you’re technically only half an angel, still, your father is one of the most powerful angels. What’s not said in the books about the fall of Lucifer, is that Arakiel helped Michael and God cast Lucifer out of Heaven. It explains why he is a “Watcher.” He’s got his eyes on Lucifer to make sure he never makes his way back up again, it explains why every year he visited you. He was doing his job at that time as well.”

You stared at him in disbelief. ‘Never be together? I mean yeah I guess we are opposites but that seems a bit drastic. Oh gosh Y/N, stop it.. you can’t like him. Destined not to be together makes this easier.. it draws a line in the sand, you don’t need to worry about Caliban trying to seduce you. This is a good thing, right?’

“Oh.” You said, sounding a little more despondent than intended. “Well this is a good thing, I mean we’re basically enemies anyway, I mean my dad, your king, Sabrina, you; this is good, makes this easier.”

“Easier? What do you mean by easier?”

Before you could answer his question, Sabrina flung through the doors of the library. You and Caliban stood up from the desk in unison. “Caliban! What did I say?!”

“Sabrina it’s alright! Please, don’t get angry. Caliban was helping find row ‘H’.”

“Uh huh, likely story. Come on Y/N, we’ve got a crown to find.” Sabrina practically pulled your arm out of your socket as she whisked you through the library’s doors. You looked back at Caliban, who had a solemn look on his face.

‘This is a good thing’, you thought.

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bi-writes · 5 years ago

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notorious: reboot — chapter five venom

May you be dead long before you realize what I’ve poisoned you with.

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 8.5k warnings: mature language and themes, nsfw content included in this chapter series masterlist

Time could be an enemy. Time could be a friend. Time could heal wounds, and time could rip them open, letting them fester and bleed and scar. Time could even do all of these things, all at the same time.

Time had done those things already. All of them, all at once, all to you.

You were alone again in your apartment. You were alone a lot these days. Mariposa had disappeared, like she always did, and you weren’t sure it was for a mission any more than it was for herself. You knew she was tangled between sheets somewhere near, sleeping in his arms, being comforted by him. Time had brought them together, little by little, and time was drawing them close, so close you knew soon they’d be nothing but inseparable.

She had even done a few jobs beside him. Opening up doors with a flash of her sweet smile and letting Harrison pull the trigger. They were reckless together. They were chaotic together. And you were furious, but every time you went to confront her about it, how could you say no to that sweet face? Mariposa was happy. Mariposa was loved. Mariposa was getting the attention that you could never give her, and every time you went to yank it away from her, you failed. Not to mention Harrison was looking after, watching her back. She wasn’t alone anymore, and Harrison always had one hand on her and another on his gun, and you couldn’t say the same, because in the end, you really only looked out for yourself.

And I hate myself for it.

You knew deep down inside that your love would never be enough for her. But his could be. And God, dammit, you couldn’t do that to her, not anymore. It had gone too far, she was in too deep, and you knew she would never forgive you if you took him away from her. You knew that she would say that it was okay, but that she would forever resent you deep down inside her pretty heart.

Time was a bitch.

There were nights like this when you were alone, and Tom would be here. There were nights when you would have your head in his lap, and you would talk, and somehow the sun would be coming up, and you would be kissing as it rose. The shadows on his face would change, from purple and blue to orange and red, and you would kiss and kiss until you didn’t have any more words left to say.

I miss you.

Then he would leave and come back, leave and come back, and you realized there was so much depth in the darkness of his eyes. Before you had just seen one, continuous color of dark coffee brown, but now you saw something else swimming in there, things you wanted to know, to learn, to figure out. Tom himself was someone you wanted to figure out.

You couldn’t count the amount of times you both were sitting in your living room, drinking, laughing. Sometimes you would curl up on the couch with a movie, and other times you both preferred the silence after a long, long day. Other nights neither of you could stop talking.

I am yours, and you are mine.

You felt like such a snake on nights like those. Both of you would spill secrets into each other’s mouths, kiss, tell each other stories. If this was any other man, you might even say you were falling into the deep end with him, but you knew when you opened your eyes, there would have to be a gun on his head, and you would be pulling the trigger.

Maybe I’m not yours, but you are all mine.

You weren’t sure when that time would come when you had to wake up from this dream. There was venom in every kiss, poison against every touch, and sometimes you lied awake at night, tears falling silently down your cheeks when you realized how deep this was starting to go.

You wondered what he would do when he found out that you knew all along. You wondered what the look on his face would be. You wondered if he would be surprised, or angry, or maybe just broken. You wondered if he would love you or hate you or maybe, just maybe, he would feel nothing at all.

We’re all broken inside. You just might have a few more pieces left, that’s all.

You wondered what he would do when you finally put a gun to his head. Now that you thought about it, you figured he might just let you kill him. You figured he wouldn’t fight back. He had said it to you, a few nights ago, and now that you thought about it all, you knew he probably hadn’t been lying.

You laid your head on his shoulder, one arm around his middle as you both looked out at the bustling below on Park Avenue. The wind was blowing, a chill running through you, and Tom wrapped his arm around you tighter, taking his suit jacket off the back of the chair and draping it over your bare legs.

“I’m sorry you got into trouble tonight, love.”

You sniffled a bit, shaking your head. Tom always said he was sorry. You liked to believe that he was, that he was sorry. You liked to believe that he worried about you, sitting in his office, waiting for the phone call that told him the job was done and that you were alright.

“Tom, you…you didn’t know—”

“But it happened,” he interrupted you, and you closed your eyes, putting your cheek against his chest. It had been a long time before you were scared the way you were tonight. They had cornered you, grabbed onto you, and you only got free enough to pull the fire alarm that had everyone swarming around you, pushing you all, throwing them off of you as you fled. All you did was send one text, and Tom was picking you up, and you had fallen into his arms in the car, staring into nothing as he held you.

Now, Tom was holding a glass full of hard liquor that you were both sharing, but it didn’t do much to numb what you were feeling. You called Tom. He was the only person you could call because you knew he would be there. You could’ve called De Luca, but he would’ve yelled at you. Tom, you knew Tom. Tom would hold you.

“I should kill you for sending me,” you tried to joke, and Tom just shook his head.

“You should,” he replied, licking his lips. “Fuck, I should’ve…”

“Tom. It’s okay. I got out. I didn’t get hurt.”

“But you almost did. And shit, y/n, when you called, I…fuck, I was so worried,” he murmured. “I know things haven’t been…I know I haven’t been delivering on my end, but you have, and for that…if something had happened to you, then I would’ve gone back on my word, and shit, that would haunt me.”

“To go back on your word?”

“To go back on my word when it comes to you, love,” he said into your ear. “I don’t want to be someone you can’t trust.”

It was sweet, his words. But they were toxic. He was lying. He was so good at it, it almost hurt you. Tom was playing a part, and he played it so well that you wanted to believe it because right now, you needed his tenderness. You needed it all.

“Kill me if I am.”

You stared down at your hands. They were bloody, so bloody, and it was dried under your fingernails, seeping into the cracks of your palms. You were shaking a bit as you fell onto the floor of your apartment, and you scrambled for your phone, putting it to your ear as you heard it dial. You couldn’t stop shaking. Nothing would stop the shaking.

“Please, Tom, please,” you stuttered, stuck against the wall. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t move anything. Your feet even had blood on them; it had seeped in through your heels, and your dress was in tatters. The phone call went to voicemail, and you whimpered, getting the courage to pick yourself up off the floor. There was something inside of you screaming for him.

Tom. Tom. Tom.

It was your only motivation. You got into the back of a taxi, barefoot and still covered in blood, and you screamed an address at the driver, and he drove with his eyes screwed to the front. You dropped a wad of bloody hundreds into the front seat as you got out, and you made your way into the autobody shop, opening the door with the key in your hand. You left bloody handprints everywhere you went, but you didn’t care. When the doors finally opened, Tom’s men couldn’t stop staring. They didn’t say anything, and you were glad for that, even if they were gawking at you.

A few of them seemed like they wanted to ask you what was wrong, but someone had broken the rule before, talking to you before you had talked to them, and Tom had put them in their place at that. Now you were just walking through the shop, covered in blood, going for the staircase that led up to the second floor.

You grabbed a hold of his office door, but nobody warned you. You pushed it open, expecting to find him sitting at his desk, a drink in his hand, ignoring you slightly as usual. But that’s not where he was. The closet doors were opened, and Tom was standing there, his eyes on the woman in front of him. You didn’t get a good enough look at her except for the dirty blonde waves that bounced as Tom moved her against the wall, their grunts and moans like nails on chalkboard in your ear. You just froze. You couldn’t explain why.

He always answered my calls. And this is why he couldn’t?

You stepped back, still barefoot, continuing to back up until you hit someone from behind. You turned around, looking up into those familiar baby blues, and you had tears in your eyes.

Because he was cock deep in a woman he doesn’t even know?

There was relief inside of you, looking up at him. Because his brows were furrowed, and he was looking at you, worried. Harrison cared. He cared about you because Mariposa cared about you. Even if you weren’t precious to him, you were precious to her, and that was enough for Harrison to put his hands on your shoulders cautiously, concern etched in his handsome features.

“y/n?” Harrison breathed. “What…what the hell happened to you?”

The tears fell slowly, and they were visible on your dirty face because as they fell, they left behind clear skin. Your cheeks had been dried with blood, just like your hair, tangled and matted with it, and the sight was gruesome. Harrison reached around you and pulled Tom’s office door shut, trying to ignore what he just saw, the noises muffled as it shut behind you.

“I couldn’t…I just…”

“It’s alright. It’s alright, love.”

Harrison looked around, at Tom’s lackeys who were still staring, and he bent down and picked you up. He cradled you to his chest, and you let him, and he glared at anyone who continued to stare.

“Get back to fucking work!” Harrison snapped, carrying you down the stairs. “You shouldn’t have come here, y/n.”

You put your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his chest, and he could feel you shaking almost violently. You didn’t answer him smartly or say anything at all. You just stared blankly behind him, at the now shut door to Tom’s office. You didn’t know how to describe how you felt.

Empty, maybe. Like his promises.

Harrison held you for a long time. The car rode as smooth as it could, but there was traffic, moments when everything stood still, and it was just you in Harrison’s lap, holding onto him because if you didn’t, you would’ve burst into tears. Harrison rubbed your back, keeping you close.

“y/n, you’ve got to talk to me, love,” he murmured. “Who did it?”

You said nothing. You were still thinking about it, truthfully. You could still feel his hands on your back, in your hair, pulling on you, growling in your ear about how much he wanted to kill you. His blood had been so…warm. So eerily warm, and you tried to wipe it off your arms sometimes, but it had dried there, was stuck there, and Harrison would push your hands off gently, keeping you still. He didn’t think low of you because of the way you clung to him. In fact, Harrison thought maybe this entire time, his ill opinions about you were just because he was misinformed. You had gone out alone tonight, and you had come back alone tonight. Clearly, something had happened, and although you were covered in a mess of someone else’s blood, you were alive. You had survived, and there was nothing more admirable in Harrison’s eyes than that.

He was sorry. He was sorry because he had thought you were just a spoiled, ill-trained heiress from sunny California. You were anything but. There was determination inside of you, strength. Being vulnerable like this didn’t make you any less, it just made you human.

You didn’t count the minutes like you usually did, but the driveway and the house that emerged after the drive was familiar. Harrison brought you out of the car, with you still in his arms, and he walked past Tom’s brothers, gathered in the kitchen, and went upstairs, carrying you towards the nearest bathroom. He set you down on the counter before he started up the bath, and then you heard clicks of heels against the wood, familiar curls emerging in the doorway.

Her eyes widened so big, and as soon as she saw you, her face was flushed. Her y/n, not even recognizable anymore.

“y/n,” Mariposa came towards you, and she wiped your matted hair off your forehead. “Oh, y/n, who did this to you?”

Her voice was so soft and angelic, and all you felt was tears as she cooed soft things in your ear.

You still said nothing. Mariposa took your shaking hands in hers, looking back between you and Harrison. You stared off into space, not caring that you were rubbing off dried blood onto her hands. Harrison shut off the water, and Mariposa helped you off the counter, getting your clothes off. She came with you to the bathtub, helping you get in, and as soon as you sat down, the water was turning a dark, ugly red.

He’s still everywhere. I can’t get him off.

“I’m going to…grab a few things, I’ll be right back,” Mariposa whispered, getting up and hurrying out. Harrison stood there, rubbing his chin, and you looked at your hands still dark red and stained. He let out a breath through his nose before he took his suit jacket off, rolling up his sleeves before grabbing the sponge from the side of the bath. He knelt down beside you, but it was like you didn’t even notice anything happening around you.

Empty. Empty is the right word.

“y/n, who did this to you?” Harrison asked, dipping the sponge in the water. You shook your head, and he gently put the sponge to your face, wiping it down softly. You leaned into him as he wiped some of the blood off of your cheek, your skin a little cleaner. “y/n, you’ve got to talk to me. Tom sent you out on a job tonight?”

You nodded slowly, and he dipped the sponge in again and started to wipe your hands clean. Your hands were the most stained. They felt sticky and frozen, but Harrison was gentle,

“y/n, who was it?”

Mariposa came back into the room. She was holding some of her clothes and a first aid kit, and she set it down on the counter before coming towards the bath, kneeling beside Harrison.

“Harrison, just let her be,” Mariposa said softly, reaching into the bath and getting your hands into hers, starting to clean them more thoroughly. Harrison wet the sponge again and rung it out over your head, wetting your hair. The bath got redder, darker, and Mariposa grimaced a bit. “It’s okay, y/n. I’m here, okay?”

Harrison got most of the blood out of your hair before Mariposa pulled the plug out of the drain, letting the water go down. She shooed Harrison out of the bathroom, and Mariposa turned the bath back on once it was all clean again. She took the soap from the edge of the bath and scrubbed the blood out of your matted hair and off your body, and when she was satisfied that no more blood was on any part of you, Harrison was waiting with a towel by the door, and Mariposa took it gratefully. Their eyes met for a moment, and Harrison just shook his head. Mariposa was close to tears. She was so angry that it hurt. Harrison put a hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead gently before she turned and made her way back to you.

She helped you out of the bath, brushing your hair out as you shrugged on the tank top and sweatpants she gave you. She sat behind you as you sat on the floor, braiding your hair back and out of your face as you stared at the floor. As she braided, Harrison took care of the cuts and bruises along your arm and the blister on your hands. He could tell you had fought well tonight. Your knuckles were yellowing all over and split open, and your palms were cut. He was careful, but you barely reacted to his touches.

Why today? Why today, Tom?

Mariposa took your hand and helped you up off the floor, and she guided you into the bedroom and onto the bed she made up for you. She tucked you in gently, and you curled up against the sheets, closing your eyes, and she promised she would be back in a moment as she gathered your bloody clothes, following Harrison outside.

“You tell me what happened right now, Harrison,” Mariposa demanded, throwing your clothes onto the ground. “What sort of death mission did you idiots send her on?!”

She was so angry. Her face was red, and she was pushing on his chest, and her tears were daring to fall.

“Ri, I promise, I had nothing to do with that,” Harrison assured her, putting his hands on her cheeks. “She…she just came into the office, looking…looking like that. And God, shit, she went into Tom’s bloody office and saw…Jesus…”

“Saw what?” Mariposa narrowed her eyes. “What did she see?”

“Tom and his fucking whore,” Harrison put a hand to his forehead. “God, he had a whore in there, and he was just…”

Mariposa’s nose twitched a bit, and she sucked in a breath. She wasn’t there. She hadn’t been at your apartment when you came home. She was here, in Harrison’s bedroom, waiting for him.

“Oh, no,” she closed her eyes. “Oh, God, she needed me, and I…I was here. I was here, waiting for you.”

“Ri—”

“No!” Mariposa shrugged off his arms. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Trouble in paradise, aye?” A dark voice laughed, and Harrison and Mariposa turned their heads to look down the hall. Tom was taking his jacket off, strolling towards them, and Harrison was too focused on what he was going to say before he could stop Mariposa. She bent her knee, snatched the heel off of her foot, and she threw it at Tom, hitting him square in the face. She kicked off her other heel before running towards him, her hands on him, smacking him and beating on his head.

“Ri, stop!” Harrison cried, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her up. She screamed and kicked in Harrison’s arms.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

Tom pulled his gun out from his waistband, pressing it to her forehead. She fell limp in Harrison’s arms, and he let her down gently, holding her to his chest. Her chest was still heaving as she panted, and she struggled against Harrison, trying to break out of his grip. All Harrison could see was the gun on Mariposa’s forehead and Tom’s finger grazing the trigger.

“Tom,” Harrison said lowly. “Tom, you tosser, put the fucking gun down.”

“I wanna know why this little bird thinks she can put her bloody hands on me and think I’ll be straight with it,” Tom growled, cocking the gun to the side. Harrison brought Mariposa’s head back, putting his hand between Tom’s gun and her forehead. Tom didn’t care, and Harrison knew that Tom would shoot through his hand to get to her if he truly wanted to.

Mariposa didn’t seem to mind that there was a gun to her head. She glared at Tom, leaning forward into the barrel and spitting right in his face. Tom scrunched his nose at that.

“For what you did to y/n,” Mariposa said weakly, wiping her mouth. “Fuck you, you piece of shit.”

Tom lowered the gun, and Harrison put Mariposa behind him. He shoved her back a bit, keeping a hand on her to hold her there.

“What are you talking about?”

“Where did you send y/n, Tom?” Harrison asked, shaking his head. “Where did you send her tonight?

Tom put his gun into the waistband of his pants, lighting a cigarette. He was unbothered still. He couldn’t really fathom the idea that anything happened to you. Sometimes you got in a pinch, but you always got out alright. You were always okay. After so many jobs, Tom didn’t think it was necessary to worry so much.

“I sent her to Midtown. What the fuck is it to you?” Tom snapped. “’s my business.”

God, the prick doesn’t even know.

“And when were you supposed to get a call back?” Harrison questioned.

Tom sighed a bit. “Shit,” he muttered, going into his pocket and pulling out his phone. There it was, your name lit on the screen. “I missed it.”

“You forgot about her, pendejo?” Mariposa spoke up. “Of course you did!”

She fought to get around Harrison, but he held her back, and Tom let out a breath of smoke. He narrowed his eyes at her, a silent warning for her to cool down before he did something about her.

“I’ve got to call her back,” Tom shook his head, and Mariposa pushed Harrison aside.

“She’s right here, you asshole!” She snapped. She picked up the bloody clothes from the floor and threw it at his chest. “You sent her into a death trap, and she held up her end of the deal, because that’s who she is. And you—!” Mariposa leaned forward, shoving Tom backwards by putting her hands on his chest, “she needed you! But instead she saw you fucking someone’s brains out!”

Harrison grabbed her arm before she could hit him again, and Mariposa had tears in her eyes.

“y/n has feelings for you—”

“Ri—”

“No, he needs to hear it!” Mariposa snapped at Harrison, pushing him away from her. She turned back to Tom, her angry tears finally spilling, and she jabbed a finger into his chest, hard. “She has feelings for you. And maybe she’ll never admit it because t-that’s who she is, she’s a hardass, but she has feelings for you,” Mariposa whimpered. “But you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve her. Not for one second! And I hope she never forgives you!”

Tom fingered the bloody dress in his hands. He was so stiff and tense as he looked down at it, and he let out a cracked breath as he saw the zipper of the dress a bit torn. Someone had touched you.

My girl. Who touched my girl?

“Where is she?” Tom swallowed. “Haz, where is she?”

“Mate, it’s not a good time,” Harrison murmured, shaking his head. “It’s…it’s not a good time. She needs to sleep.”

Tom grabbed the front of his dress shirt, “Haz, don’t give me that, where is she? Where is she?”

“She came into the office, Tom,” Harrison said lowly, staring him down. “She was barefoot and covered in blood, from her feet to her bloody hair. She came, and she was looking for you, Tom, because shit happened tonight, you led her into something that almost killed her, and she needed you. And she saw you. She saw you, and she couldn’t even move.”

Tom’s face scrunched up in anger, but Harrison continued. He wanted to hurt Tom. Tom needed to understand that with women they cared about, with women that were special to them, they couldn’t just be special when they were together. They had to be special together, apart, and always. There was no picking and choosing, no sometimes and occasionally. It was all or nothing for men like them, and if Tom kept going the way he did, Harrison knew he would lose you. Tom would lose you before he realized how much you meant to him.

You’ve lost me. There’s nothing left.

“I brought her back here to clean her up. And I doubt she wants to see you, mate,” Harrison finished, his voice low and dark and menacing.

Tom let go of Harrison, running a shaky hand through his hair. He paced for a bit before pushing past the both of them, going into the room behind them. He pushed the door open, and the knob banged against the wall beside it. You were laying down still, not moving, and Tom came towards you.

Empty, empty, empty.

“Jesus, y/n,” he murmured, climbing onto the bed, and you stiffened.

Fuck you.

“Don’t touch me,” you whispered harshly when he reached a hand out. He dropped his hand, clenching his jaw. There was nothing more he wanted to do then brush your baby hairs out of your face and look at you sweetly. Your eyes were blank, hollow, not even a reflection in them.

Empty.

“y/n…love, what happened? Tell me what happened,” he demanded weakly. You met his eyes for the first time, and he was ready to wreak havoc on the room when he could see the tears on your face. It made him angry. It made him so angry to know something had gotten to you so deeply that you felt the need to cry. He ached to his bones. “Tell me.”

His voice was begging, and you took pity on that. Tom Holland never begged.

You looked away from him. “Viktor was there,” you said, your voice cracking. Your throat was dry, but you managed to talk. You said more words in the past minute than you’ve said in hours, and you could feel it. “Viktor was there, Tom.”

“But…no. Tonight—”

“I don’t know who gave you that intel,” you interrupted him, practically spitting it out. Your voice was venom, but he needed to know. “But it was wrong. I walked into a goddamn trap, and I barely made it out alive.”

“Tell me,” Tom demanded lowly. “Tell me what happened.”

It was simple. Get in, get out, smooth operation. Tom had asked something simple of you. Viktor had skipped town ever since his encounter with you, but his club was still causing a ruckus in Midtown. Tom needed you to bug the private men’s bathroom, and that was all. Get in, smack the device under the sink, and get out. Easy.

You wore black, dressed like one of the waitresses, and it was easy to sneak into the private bathrooms at the back when you were holding a tray of alcohol. You slipped into the bathroom, putting the tray down as you put the device under the sinks at the counter. When you stood up straight, you were looking in the mirror, and he was standing behind you.

Viktor. He had healed completely since you last saw him. From the rumors, you heard you had cracked his head open, and he spent a few months in recovery because of the severe concussion you gave him. Maybe the asshole would learn to think twice before touching another woman, but as you met his eyes in the mirror, you realized he hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. He had a dark look in those eyes.

Is that what lust looked like? Or revenge?

You slid out of the way as he moved to punch you, ducking under his arm before pulling your arm back, elbowing him in the ribs. He fell over for a second, but then he went for your legs, tackling you onto the floor.

“Get over here!”

You kicked and grunted, using your stiletto heel to pierce his head. He yelled out in pain, and you managed to scramble away, but he caught your ankles, yanking you back down to his level. He wrapped his arms around your neck, standing with you, choking you. He threw you onto the bathroom counter, so hard your back hit the mirror and cracked it. You let out a pained gasp as you hit it, feeling the breath knock out of you for a moment. You barely had time to recover.

You ducked quickly when he moved to hit you again, and his fist collided with the mirror, the glass shattering and falling around you. You grabbed him by the head and brought your knee up, hitting him square in the nose. You could practically feel his nose break against your knee, felt it crack, and when he looked up at you, his nose was gushing blood practically, dripping onto your legs.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” He grabbed you by the waist and yanked you off the counter, throwing you over his shoulder, but not before your fingers grabbed for a shard of glass and stabbed him in the back with it, your fingers stained with blood almost immediately. He dropped you onto the floor, crying out in pain, and that’s when you moved to run. But then you heard the click of a gun. “Don’t…don’t move a fucking muscle, I’ll blow your head to shit all over the fucking walls.”

You froze, putting your hands up, turning around to face him. You stared him down, wiping your mouth, stripes of his blood now painted across your face. He looked pathetic, even with a gun in his hand, and you hoped the disgust was coming across in the look on your face. You didn’t have the gun, but you couldn’t show that you were afraid. Men liked that far too much. He was kneeling on the ground, his back still bleeding, but he slowly got to his feet. He came near you, putting the barrel to your forehead, and he nodded his chin at you.

“Against the wall, princess,” he growled. “You’re going to give me what I want. You’re not going to walk away this time.”

You backed up as he pushed you, and he spun you around quickly, forcing your hips against the wall. One hand left the gun to trail down your spine, and you sucked in an angry breath as he pulled on the zipper of your dress. You scrunched your nose angrily as you felt it rip a bit.

“You know…you almost had me,” he chuckled, and he leaned in to breathe against the skin of your shoulder. “You almost had me fooled. Your pretty face is deceptive. But you’re pathetic. And after I’m done with you, I’m going to throw every piece of you into the fucking Hudson.”

“Won’t you at least let me spread my legs?” You asked with a seductive giggle as he yanked your head back by your hair. “Make it easier for you.”

He smirked down at you, and you put your feet apart. You let one hand fall to the hem of your dress, where you hiked it up a bit, and he licked his lips, so distracted by the thought. His eyes rose back up to meet yours, and you let out a calm breath before wrapping your hands around the blade in your thigh holster, bringing it out slowly. You tossed your head back, knocking him in the forehead with the back of it, and then you pushed his arm to the side, hearing him pull the trigger. The light above you shattered from the gunshot, but you kept going, turning around and forcing the knife right into the side of his neck. He dropped the gun, and it clattered to the floor, and he fell on top of you, gurgling, bleeding, struggling. You started to breathe heavy as you shoved him off of you, grabbing the handle of the blade and pulling it right out. There was so much blood. Too much blood.

And then you saw stars in his eyes.

“You killed the bastard,” Tom muttered. “If you ask me, it’s about time.”

You swung your arm back and slapped Tom across the face, sitting up. He didn’t react. He just clenched his jaw, looking down.

Yeah, I deserved that.

“You can go fuck yourself,” you snapped. “This deal? Whatever deal we had between us, Tom? It’s over.”

“y/n, you signed your name. It doesn’t work like that.”

“That was before you played with my fucking life, Tom!” You shot back. “That was before you started treating me less like a partner and more like an expendable piece of ass for you to use for your own personal gain! I—I can’t believe that I trusted you! You said you’d protect me, but you know what Tom?” Tears flowed down your cheeks, wetting your flushing face, and you came close to him, yanking his face to yours with a tug on the collar of his shirt. “You used me. Like I knew you would. You know for a second, I thought maybe Tom Holland had a fucking heart. But you don’t. You pretended you cared about me, but really, I’m just another whore for you to use. The only difference is my job doesn’t involve fucking you.”

You let him go with a cry, sitting back against the headboard. You scooted to the far side of the bed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Get out of my fucking sight,” you breathed. “I’m sick of looking at you. I told you! I told you, Tom! I told you about my father…about the shit I went through to get here, and it doesn’t mean anything to you! You’re just a selfish, arrogant, disgusting human being, and I hope that woman was worth all the shit you put me through. I hope she was worth it all.”

Tom stood up from the bed, but he circled to the other side. He was shaking his head, a defeated look on his face. She wasn’t worth it, nothing about her was worth it. Tom Holland never did the right thing, but tonight was the only night that he wished he had.

Why couldn’t you just pick up the goddamn phone?

“Tom, don’t you—”

He put both of his hands on your cheeks, tilting your head up to his. He kissed you softly, one hand sliding up and touching your hair, feeling the curves of the braid you had it in. You growled between kisses.

You can’t do this to me. You can’t do this.

“Get the fuck off of me, you bastard,” you whimpered, but there was no fight left in you. You needed his touch so desperately, and you hated how much you needed it.

“y/n, she meant nothing to me,” he breathed against your lips. “She meant nothing.”

“I hate you,” you cried, pushing on his chest, but he stayed there, holding you closer. “You’re such a bastard, Tom.”

“She meant nothing,” he repeated, closing his eyes. Tom could feel the tears coming down your face still. There was hurt in your eyes, and he hated looking at it. “And I will make it up to you. I swear I will. I will make it up to you.”

“I hope you rot in hell,” you croaked, and Tom leaned over you, kissing you furiously. You whimpered as you kissed him back, letting him climb onto the bed, letting him wrap his arms around you. “Tom, you weren’t there…why weren’t you there?”

“y/n, fuck—” He pulled away slowly, leaning his forehead against yours. “I am so fucking sorry. I’m sorry. I will never let you go, I promise. For as long as I live, I will never stop watching your back. I will never stop watching you, I don’t care what the fuck it takes—”

“You said that before,” you sniffled. “You said you’d protect me. You said I was family. But you don’t care.”

Fuck you for making me feel like this.

“y/n, God dammit!” Tom breathed, his fingers going into your hair, pulling tightly, forcing you to look at him. The look between your eyes was intense, but he wanted you to see his own face. The regret, the pain, the undying guilt inside of me, he needed you to see it. “If you believe that, then you’re a fucking idiot. You know why I bury myself in girls like that? You want to know why, eh?” His voice was so raspy, cracking and low against your ear, and you let out a gentle sob. “I bury myself in women like that because I can’t have you! Do you hear me, y/n?”

“That’s a shit excuse,” you snapped back, and Tom laughed bitterly, holding your face to his.

“I know. I know it is, darling. And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just need you to know it,” he muttered. “I need you to hear it. Because after what happened tonight, I fucking hate myself. I hate myself, and I just need you to know the truth.”

The truth.

You tilted your head to the side, and he moved his head the other way, and you both kissed again, desperately.

“I wasn’t upset about her,” you whispered. “Tom Holland doesn’t have meaningful sex, I know that much.” You pulled away to look at him, your eyes watery and red. “Tom, I just thought…I thought you would put me first. I thought after everything that’s happened these past few months, when I really needed you, you’d pick up the goddamn phone. But you weren’t there—”

Tom shook his head before kissing you again, and you whimpered between kisses.

“You weren’t there, Tommy,” you said weakly. “The one time I needed you, a-and you weren’t there.”

Tommy.

“I’m here now,” he whispered harshly, hugging you close to him. “I’m here. I’m here, y/n, and I swear to God, I’m going to kill every last Russian in this bloody city to prove it to you.”

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, putting your head on his shoulder, and he hugged you right back, so tightly and securely. Your tears wet his shirt, and he wanted to hit something, break something.

You caused those tears, you piece of shit. This is your doing.

“That’s a lot of bodies,” you whispered in his ear, and he pulled back to cup your face with one hand. You adored when he did that. Grabbing your face, making you look at him, his dark eyes on you.

I am yours, and you are mine.

“I don’t care,” he said huskily, licking his lips. “I don’t bloody care. I’d pile those pricks up one by one, y/n. That’s what happens when you touch my family.”

Family. Pathetic.

“Is that how you plan on making it up to me?” You asked softly, and Tom reached up with his thumb, wiping the tears from under your eyes.

“Aye,” he said lowly, and you laid back on the bed as he kissed you. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, closing your eyes as you kissed. The kisses were gentle, but desperate, and he brought you to sit up in his lap, cradling you to his chest as you straddled his waist. He leaned back against the headboard as you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your fingers across his handsome features as your mouths moved together.

He slid his hands down the waistband of your sweats, and you let him, only breathing out the softest moan as he squeezed your ass gently. But this time, it wasn’t to claim you or tease you or objectify you. He was touching you because you needed him to, and you hooked your fingers into the waistband, pushing them down your legs.

You let out a whine as he rolled over on top of you, pressing you back into the soft sheets as you kissed. He trailed a hand down between your breasts, splayed his hand flat on your stomach, then walked his fingers down to the waistband of your lace panties, slipping his fingers underneath it. You grabbed onto the back of his neck, keeping his lips to yours, and you gasped as he ran his index finger through your folds, your back arching a bit as you broke the kiss. You were pooling between the legs, the heat coming off of you warming the palm of his hand. Tom figured there was something between you, an attractive, warm, hotness of undeniable sexual tension, but he didn’t realize how tense it really was. He had barely touched you, only kissed you, and you were wetting your panties, staining them already.

Kill me now, she’s so beautiful.

“Jesus,” you breathed, hiking your leg up around his waist, and he watched your face as he brought his hand up to his mouth, licking those same fingers. They were visibly wet and sticky, and your lips parted as you watched his eyes roll back a bit at the taste, releasing them to stare back down at you. He grinned as you moaned a bit, breathlessly.

“Sweet,” he muttered, and you hit his chest.

“Stop being an asshole for one second, and—Oh!”

Tom grunted as he ripped the lace of your panties trying to pull them off, the thin, gentle fabric tearing in his hands. You tossed your head back and groaned, and he moved to touch your chin with that hand, running his thumb over your bottom lip before slipping two fingers into your mouth gently. You hummed a bit he did, looking up into his eyes as you wrapped your lips around them and sucked gently.

Did she do this for you? Was she as good as this?

“God, sweetheart, didn’t know you had it in ya,” Tom snickered, and you let his fingers go with a pop, bringing him down to kiss you again.

“You know, I hear a lot of talking and not a lot of making it up to me,” you whispered, shivering as his wet fingers traveled down your stomach again. “You think you’re so—”

You closed your eyes almost immediately, feeling his fingers circle your clit, drawing your legs open a bit wider for him. He leaned down and pressed soft, airy kisses around your mouth as he stayed there, his deft fingers just teasing you to no end as you writhed under him, your breathing starting to get heavier and heavier by the minute. He would collect a bit wetness by dipping the tips of his fingers into you, dragging them back up to touch your clit. You hated how good he could make you feel with just a few simple touches.

“Does that feel good, angel?” Tom murmured, and you held onto his biceps, nodding desperately as you dug your fingernails into his arms. He gritted his teeth a bit at that, but it felt good to be wanted, especially by you.

Angel. Angels don’t fuck, do they?

“Y-Yes, Tommy,” you whimpered, and he smirked down at you. Those eyes danced with a knowingness that you hated. He was so smug, so skilled and so confident in his own skin. He was so dominating, leaning over you, his hand between your legs, making you feel so foolish but so pleasured all at once.

“That’s good, love, that’s how I want it,” he whispered in your ear. “I want you to feel good. I want you to feel safe. Because you’re in my arms, darling, and ‘m going to take care of you.”

Liar.

“Please, Tom,” you brought his lips back to you, kissed him again. It felt good to kiss him, it felt good to hear those words, even if they were painted with lies. “Please.”

“Shhh, I know,” he licked his lips. “Relax, sweetheart. Relax.”

You put your head into the crook of his neck as he buried those two fingers inside of you, your hips bucking up against his hand as he kept them there, closing his eyes. He groaned a bit as moved them, hissing when he could feel you so tight around those two fingers, clenching like you needed more.

“Fucking hell, y/n,” Tom muttered, “don’t tell me your bloody sweet arse is that of a virgin.”

You laughed in his ear, your voice like music, and he kissed your neck softly as he gently curled his fingertips, his thumb on your clit as he tried to learn how your body reacted. Tom adored it. The way your hips moved with every movement of his hand, the way your lips parted to invite his kisses back to you, and especially the lustful, half-lidded look in your eyes that told him you were enjoying every second his hand was inside of you.

I hate how much I need you.

Oh, and when he curled his fingertips just right, when the pads of his fingers swiped across that spot, you were a mess underneath him, a gorgeous little angel that moaned his name so sweet, dripping like honey in his ear. You were so gorgeous, so beautiful, so completely wrecked that he found himself pumping his fingers faster not for his own sake but for yours, because he wanted to see what euphoria looked like on those beautiful, dangerous features.

“C’mon, angel,” Tom grunted huskily, and he gripped your chin with his other hand, forcing your eyes on his. Your mouth was gaping open, your breaths coming out as gentle moans, and you held onto him desperately, the look in your eyes so wanting. “Don’t tell me you need more.”

Truthfully, if Tom even uttered one more husky word in your ear, you would’ve finished right there. But then all you could see were the top of his perfectly tousled curls, and his tongue was on your clit, and he was planting wet, sweet kisses onto you, curling his fingers in sync with his kisses. You cried out in pleasure as he sucked, his tongue working so methodically, as if he knew exactly what you wanted. He kept his eyes on yours as he rose back up your body, and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, his fingers working you through the most mind-blowing, shivering orgasm. You wet his fingers generously, but he couldn’t be bothered as he watched your face. Your eyes rolled back into your head, your back arching off the bed and further into his chest. Your knees bent, coming up as your whole body tensed to his touch.

Goddamn you, Tommy. Goddamn you for all of it.

It was worth it. Even as you relaxed, the flush of your body, the heat you gave off, it was the sexiest sight he had ever laid his eyes on, and he wished he could repeat that moment over and over and over again. He thought maybe if he shut his eyes hard enough, he could remember it just fine.

But he didn’t want to remember. He wanted to be the only man on this Godforsaken earth that ever saw you with blinding lights in your eyes, he wanted to be the only man to ever touch you like this, and he knew it was selfish, he knew it was wrong, but he didn’t care.

I am yours, and you have to be mine.

“That was…” You shook your head, breathless, and Tom smirked. He picked up your sweats and helped you slip them back on, and he brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face, trying to find your eyes.

You kissed him for the hundredth time, not being able to resist. You held him close, your fingers tangled in his own hair, your breath finally calming enough that you could speak.

“Swear to me,” you said softly, brushing his curls off his face. “Swear to me that you’re not lying to me. Swear to me that the empty answers in Brooklyn…the ghosts that we’ve been chasing…swear to me that it isn’t for nothing. Swear to me that you’re going to find who did this, Tom, and that the things I’ve been doing for you won’t be for nothing.”

Tom cupped the back of your neck, nodding. He seemed so sincere. Everything in his face seemed like he was telling the truth, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. You hated how safe he could make you feel even though you knew his promises were anything but the truth. It burned a whole inside of you knowing he could make you feel like this, make you feel like everything was so real, and still spit in your face with his words.

“I swear, y/n. I swear.”

His voice was poison. His lips were toxic. His words were a lie.

And so were yours.

You hugged Tom tightly, putting your head into the crook of his neck, staring out into nothing as your face fell serious. There was a part of you that thought maybe you would tell Tom the truth. There was a part of you that thought maybe you and Tom could drop the façade, could break down your own walls, and start new again. A few hours ago, you would have been ready to sit down and tell Tom the truth.

But Tom Holland didn’t care. He didn’t kiss you because he cared, he didn’t fuck you with those sweet fingers of his because he felt for you.

You were Tom Holland’s weapon, and he didn’t want to let you go. Tonight proved that much. Letting him touch and kiss you would be your forgiveness, but you were still alive inside, alive with an angry fire that could only be put out when you put a bullet in Tom’s head.

Fuck you, Tom.

If you bit Tom now, how long would you have to wait to see the venom seep into his body?

Would he die slow? Would he die quickly? Would there be enough time to look him in the eyes before death set in?

Will I get to see stars in his eyes, too?

read chapter six

#OH MY GOD #this is my favorite chapter so far ngl #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland series #tom holland au #mob!tom #thnsfw #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #please give this love

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asktheheirofslytherin · 4 years ago

Text

[[OOC: Putting most of this one under a read more because it is very, very long. ]]

"Killing your father is not the greatest decision that you have made, Professor. It would mean that you have held a grudge against him for leaving you and your mother. It would also mean that you have at least pitied your mother for going through that and becoming mad at him for not being there for you, furious at your mother falling in love with that horrendous man. " Thirteen said absentmindedly before sighing.

"Don't mind about what I said." She told him as she waved it off.

She clenched her jaw and glared at him when asked about killing them.

"I may be powerful, Riddle, but I do not kill people without any real reason behind it. Yes, they may have tortured me throughout my childhood but I do not want to wish it upon anyone, not to mention, if I ever did kill them then it would mean that I have lowered myself to be at their level! I'm lucky and surprised that they have let life this long. Other escapees have tried to escape but they would always die. A miracle you would say for what happened to me yet a curse at the same time." She snapped at him unintentionally letting out a bloodthirsty aura, her eyes swirling red, her hair levitating a bit, and her mark glowing. She closed her eyes, let out a sigh as she relaxed, and went back to normal before she stood up from the chair.

"I'm sorry that I snapped, sir. It was uncalled for." She told him as she bowed to him before she sat back to her chair, holding her arm that held the mark, rubbing it sheepishly.

"Him? Oh, you don't want to know Him. Cain is a different person than Him. Too different, some might say that He is the punisher and Cain is the sinner." She told him as she looked down. Not wanting to look at him for her childish outburst.

"I'm sorry for my outburst, Professor. This conversation has fallen deep than it should have." She told him before she looked at him. She stood up and teleported behind him.

"It's too bad that you wouldn't remember any of this, Professor." She whispered to him before she touched on the back of his head and used one of her powers using the blue eyes, making him close his eyes and sleep.

His body limped on the chair and was about to fall on the floor before she catches him with the levitating spell.

She touched his shoulder and she teleported him to his bedroom. She levitated him in his bed carefully and tucked him. She snapped her fingers and changed his clothes to his sleeping clothes before walking to him. She touched his forehead lightly to lock their conversation away and hypnotized his memories a bit to the situation before the conversation and she dismissed him and she went to her dorm while he went to his home and sleep.

She sighed and teleported away from his room, after leaving him a small vial of blue grace, letting the professor sleep and gave him dreams on his dreams coming true, and protecting him without any nightmares.

She teleported to her dorm with her blindfold on and changed her clothes. She put the notes in her binder and went to sleep as the sun started to rise.

She silently thanked God that tomorrow was a Saturday and has no classes. She needs to get to the bunker again and fast. Some more research has to be done. But first, she was needed somewhere else.

Thirteen may have arranged his memories and such. But emotions were harder to control and manipulate. So Riddle will always have a nagging feeling about having to talk to Thirteen tomorrow morning, that is if he can catch up to her.

It was now Saturday morning and Thirteen had finished breakfast at the Great Hall. She walked to her dorm and waved her wand to reveal a fake floorboard beside her bed. She opened it and grabbed the backpack that was underneath it.

She concealed the board again then walked to the forbidden forest. She went deep inside the forest and then she saw the waterfall with some broken structures. Some of the structures had some unknown runes while some had sigils. For an average witch or wizard, they wouldn't recognize any of the drawings. But Thirteen did, how can she not if she was the one who put it there.

She was standing a few inches away before she put her hand in mid-air then the atmosphere started to gloss like it wasn't real, like it was a barrier. She smiled to herself and just went straight in.

She knew she was being followed again, she wasn't known for being discreet. She sighed but still kept walking towards a small cottage.

There was a little girl, with soft pale skin, black hair, and grey eyes and a little boy, with white hair, blue eyes, and pale soft skin who both looked to be 5 years old. They looked up to her and squealed as they ran to her, screaming, "Mama! Mama!"

She knelt and was tackled by her two loving kids.

"Hey, kids!" She told them with a laugh. She felt so carefree.

She kissed them both on their foreheads.

"Mama! When will you be staying with us again?" The little girl asked Thirteen.

"Summer is almost here, Constance." She replied to her with a pat on her forehead while her daughter smiled gleefully at her.

"Ma! After your school, can we go to France again?" The little boy asked her.

"Of course, Loki. Now that you mentioned school, how are you learning with Uncle Gabriel?" She asked the twins with a curious look in her eyes.

"We did good!" Loki told her with a grin.

"You two were the most mischievous and cunning little snakes!" A man with blonde hair and blue eyes said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

"Did you two do pranks to him again?" She asked them and they smiled sheepishly.

"I'll take that as a yes." She told them as she smirked at them.

"Hey, sis. Why do you have your blindfold on?" Gabriel asked her with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, about that, Gabes. Old habits die hard." She told him as she took it off before standing up and said to Gabriel, "Mm~ I smell something good. Did you cook fried chicken?"

"Yep and some adobo chicken and made some fruit salad."

"That sounds delicious! Come on kids, let's eat?" She asked her twins to which, to her surprise, shook their heads no.

That's odd, they would always jump at the word fried chicken.

"We want to play some more, mama!" Constance reasoned as Loki nodded.

"Hm... What about after eating I'll teach you some magical creatures?"

"Really?" Loki said to her with excitement in his eyes.

"Mhm, I learned about some new creatures from the books and professor,"

"Professor Riddle?" Constance said with her head tilted.

"Mhm." She said to her little angel.

"Yes! Professor Riddle is the best!" Loki said, jumping with glee.

"Really? Out of all the stories that she told you about her professors, you like Professor Riddle?" Gabriel asked the twins with a smirk on his face.

"Mhm! Oh, mom! Can we go meet him one day?" Loki asked his mother while Constance just nodded her head at her mother.

"Gee, I don't know. Professor Riddle is always busy with research and stuff."

"🥺" (←They did this look) This made the twins do the puppy eyes.

"Alright, I'll mention it to him later. Man, you two are so persuasive." Thirteen said to her kids as pinch their cute chubby cheeks.

'They're so cute and persuasive, damn. They might end the world with their cuteness,' She thought to herself.

"Yeah, after you explain about to these little twerps," Gabriel said to Thirteen as he walked to her.

"We're not twerps! You're just a jerk!" Constance retorted to Gabriel.

"Yeah!" Loki said as well. This made Thirteen and Gabriel laugh.

"Which reminds me, why do you like him so much?" She asked her twins curiously.

"I want to be like him when I grow up!" Loki reasoned to his mother.

"Makes sense since he is an interesting soul," Gabriel shrugged.

"I want to marry him," Constance said simply which made her mother's eyes go wide and Gabriel choke on his saliva suddenly making him cough.

"Why? You haven't seen him what he looks like, what if he had buck teeth?"

"I don't care, as long as he's mine! " Constance said a smile that made her mother worried, Loki says?" And Gabriel laugh.

"Great! My daughter is persuasive and possessive! What did you do, Gabriel?!" She said to Gabriel.

"Don't look at me! They're your kids! They came out of you! You should know that! And besides, it won't surprise me if she ever becomes a yandere." Gabriel said as he mockingly put his hands up in a surrender motion as he took a step back.

The mother and the twins looked at each other and tilted their heads at Gabriel.

Gabriel had his eyes wide and said, "Nope! Oh hell now! Just go inside and eat dammit. Food's probably cold now."

Then they went inside the cottage and ate some food.

---------

“Well of course I held a grudge,” Tom said, shrugging. “I do not see how the need for revenge could be a bad thing. The feel of the final act - the fear in the man’s eyes as I confronted him, raised my wand, let him comprehend what was about to happen-” Tom’s eyes glinted red for just a moment as he allowed himself to relish the memory - and then he recalled he was with a student. This was not appropriate in the slightest, he chided himself. “Anyhow,” he continued, shrugging. “I feel that more than enough of a good reason to kill, no? Ah, I suppose we are dissimilar. Perhaps for the best, then.”

“Outburst? Oh, no, it is fine, and facinating - and perhaps even fair after my own indiscretio-” And then everything went dark.

The following morning, with no memory of his late-night conversation with Thirteen, Tom ate his eggs with relative unease. He was not quite sure what caused this - he had a productive night working on research, then slept quite well - but he had a feeling he was forgetting something, needed to do something. He double and triple checked his calendar, both official and... extracurricular, but no, there was nothing. And so he scanned the Great Hall, eyes lingering on the Slytherin table. There had been a student he had to meet with. The odd girl, Thirteen. If only he could remember why. And he did not see her seated with her peers. Of course not.

Still, he had seen her on weekends before, wandering the grounds, alone. Perhaps he would go for a walk after he ate, and if all went well, perhaps he would run into her.

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