#Happy near end of pride month | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnys-kisses · 7 months ago

Text

the jailbird

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

a full fic based on this post

cw: prison!au, civilian!reader, pen-pals, smut,romance/romantic!simon, domestic, missonary, wife kink, size kink, nudity, tattoo kink, body worship, cuddling

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are always welcomed!

it started out as a flyer at the bus stop near your house. it was for a service that connected prisoners at a nearby prison with civilians as pen-pals. you had seen the flyer often over the course of work as you went to work.

you honestly felt bad, those people must be isolated. the organization prided itself on giving prisoners a bit of their humanity back by not cutting them off from those on the outside. so on a rainy friday you took a photo of the flyer and filled out the form on the organization's website.

that was how you met simon riley, or as he was called on the inside 'ghost'. what caught your attention wasn't his face scar that ran from under his nose down to the left side of his chin, but rather his brown eyes. how intense they stared into the camera. it was almost intimidating.

but you kept the photo on your desk as you typed out your first letter to send to him. you heard of places who did it through email, but screen time for those could often be limited and to send a physical letter would ensure that it would be sent to them.

the letter started out simple, you asked how he was and if it was okay to ask what he was in prison for. you asked him other questions, like if his health was doing well, what did he do most days while on the inside. you ended the letter with a little information about yourself.

you thought it would be nice to take a few photos and print them out on photo paper to be included with your letter. just so he had a better idea of who he was talking about. once you tweaked the letter with a bit of editing, you printed it out and thanks to the Royal Mail, your letter was sent to him.

you didn't actually expect for him to respond. nor did you expect for the letter to be do detailed. it was almost three pages double sided in neat hand writing. your eyes went wide when you saw the thickness of the envelope with the stamp of approval from the prison for it to be sent to you.

simon sent you a bracelet made of string that had been braided together. he said you were the first person from the outside to reach out since he got locked up. that broke your heart. it only broke further the more you read.

he was a military man who was tossed aside once the ptsd got too intense. he had been between jobs, and it felt like everything was just too much for him. he got wrapped up in large scale theft, while it paid good, you could only rob so many banks before it all caught up. he had been in for three years now, he was thankful it wasn't a life sentence. not much was stolen, and there was minimal violence. he said that his stature alone intimidated enough people that he didn't need to be violent.

you re-read his letters and it wouldn't be until almost six months of speaking that you finally wore the bracelet. when he said, "i want to see you in it, since i can't buy you a ring." you sent a photo of you wearing it and since then you hadn't taken it off.

the letters were nice, you sent them at least twice a week. even though you two had never met face to face, and the only photos you had of him were mugshots, he knew all the gossip in your work place. he knew the names of all your friends, your favourite saturday night treat and how you took your coffee.

he told you he'd be happy to make you coffee every morning before you went to work. that comment made your cheeks burn.

he often called you his 'wife' to the other prisoners. he had your photos on the wall near his bunk. he even kept the pictures where you looked terrible after you tried to cut your bangs one night. he knew the exact location of where your favourite take out was. he said that he was writing down ideas of where to take you once he got out. "i gotta make the missus feel special."

he even made you a birthday card. his cellmate 'soap' even signed it. you knew all about the explosives expert mactavish. when you looked into his case on the news, your eyes went a little wide. this guy was.. something.

simon did admit that 'soap' had a bit of a crush on you. but he said that 'johnny' was harmless and probably just liked the photo of a woman in the cell.

"he hurt ya, there will be no cell that could keep me from killin' him. no god either."

simon remembered everything.

the way he spoke about you and to you in his letters were nothing but soft. while he had to put on a tough guy exterior, his letters were filled with gentle words. like when he wrote out that he loved you in big text on a spare piece of paper so you could tape it on your mirror to look at every morning.

"i want to be what you get ready to."

"i want to be with you when you wake up."

"i want to come home to you every night. please make me an honest man."

you knew he was a trained killer. he was in special forces before his brief stint as a criminal. he was trained to kill, but in the margins of your letters, his love shined through. despite it all, he was capable of love.

and he wanted to pour all that love into you, his (future) wife.

you two would go on to write letters every week, for almost two years. when you got the letter from him asking if he could put you down as a permanent address when he got out, you cried. of course!

it was a cold spring morning, the sky was misty as you stood outside the gates of the prison. your heart raced, you even arrived early in the hopes he'd be released sooner.

and then you saw him.

those eyes. hard and stern, until he caught sight of you. his shoulder visibly dropped and his pace quickened as he made his way towards you. before you could step forward to meet him, he had you in his arms. his strong arms, littered with tattoos, wrapped around you as he held you close to his strong chest.

you held onto him as the air left your chest from the force he held you. you clutched onto his shoulders and choked out a sob. you squeaked, "holy shit."

he pulled away from you, but still kept you in his arms. you swore you saw minimal mistiness in his eyes. he reached to cup your face. he said quietly, "soft... like i imagined."

you beamed up at him, "of course, si."

"your voice is so nice." he groaned as he then pulled you close once more and buried his nose in your hair. he inhaled the scent of your shampoo and relaxed, "i'm home."

you thought transitioning from being the only person in the flat, to having this hulking, strong man in your home as well, was going to be a bit hard. but that didn't matter when simon got you through the door. his hands were on you, he promised on the universe that he'd romance you tomorrow.

but tonight was just going to be the two of you.

you managed to get his hands off you in order to get your shoes off before you led him to your bedroom. he was close behind you, he had a hand on one of your hips. he wanted to be as close to you as he could, you two had spent enough time apart.

you couldn't even close the bedroom door before he was pulling at the waistband on your pants. his calloused, strong hands felt delicate on you. it was like he was going to break you and he had to be as delicate as possible.

"si."

"i know, darling." he said quietly as he started to undress you. with your help the both of you were soon nude in the afternoon light in your bedroom. you tried to cover your chest with your arms but he pulled your arms away and looked at you.

your eyes met and you got up on your tip-toes to kiss him gently on the lips. soon he picked you up like you weighed less than a bag of potatoes.

he placed you on the bed gently when you half expected him to toss you like a shot-put. he admired your body down on your soft covers and soon got onto the bed too.

you reached for him as he pulled you into a tight kiss. his lips were chapped and you could tease the fresh skin underneath. your nails raked at his strong back, that you knew was covered in tattoos.

you wrapped your legs around him and held him. from a moment he dropped to his side and you two held each other. you tucked his head under your chin as you laid together naked.

it wasn't even meant to be sexually stimulating, you both just wanted to feel one another. to hear your lover's heartbeat meant more to you than anything in that moment.

you kissed the top of his head, you felt his blond hair against your face as you soaked in his warmth. you could almost cry from how nice it felt to be so close to him.

after everything, you had your man.

he said in his low tone, "you feel so soft. after everything, i have you. you made every day in the can worth it." he sighed, "thank you." he kissed at your bare chest.

you replied, "i loved your letters, i have them still." you chuckled, "i didn't want to throw any of them away. it made me feel closer."

"well. i'm not goin' anywhere." he looked up at you and smiled, "you're home and i'm finally here." he pulled away and got him between your legs. he rested on his knees and carefully moved you to his liking. he sat there between your legs and waited for your command.

you looked at him and nodded, "yeah, si. you can go." then tightened your legs around your lover. you held your breath as he slowly pushed his cock into you. you didn't realize how big it was until he was fully inside of you.

"are you alright, love?"

"golden."

the two of you moved together. it took a little bit to get used to the size, but the pressure and speed of his movements made heat spread through your body. like two pieces of the same puzzle, you fit together perfect soon after. it was like you two were always meant to be.

you felt so loved by him, it was so sweet. this was your first time with him and you only had a few sexual experiences with others prior to him. but the entire time you knew each other you didn't sleep with others, you wanted to wait for your man.

"that's my good wife." he groaned as he held onto your hips, "i know, you wanted this for a long time. i bet you thought about me when i was locked up."

you blushed and replied, "i did, si. i thought about you all the time, i even had your picture in my office. i wanted this, i wanted to be with you!" you whined a little as his cock dragged against a sensitive spot.

he chuckled softly, "yeah. i thought about my missus when i was locked up. i used to jerk off to your letters, your photos. messed one of 'em up by gettin' my spunk all over it." he licked his lips, "but now i can see it every day in person."

you smiled when he rested his body against you and continued to thrust up into you. you felt the curl of pleasure of your gut get together which each of his heavy thrusts.

the kisses you shared were intimate and hot. the air of your bedroom was warmed as you made love on the bed you would share together. your soft noises together filled the air.

you clenched onto him, you dug your nails into his shoulders. they were so strong and broad that they were much bigger than your hands.

he kissed you one last time as he quickened his pace. the bed moved against your movements as you both climaxed at the same time. it was like a shock to the system, the heightened euphoria before your head felt full of cotton.

you let out a soft groan as your grip on his loosened and you relaxed into the bed. you felt yourself partially get crushed by your lover but he gave a few more earnest thrusts as he made sure that his cum shot to the back of your womb.

he pulled out and dropped beside you. he tucked some hair behind your ear and wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. your breathing was heavy, but you were both so happy. to share your first time together felt so special.

you nestled yourself into his arms and held his hand. you exhaled contently then said, "my husband."

he kissed the top of your head, he felt complete, "my missus."

part two

6K notes · View notes

i-want-cookies-pls · 1 year ago

Text

Happy Pride Month!! 🏳️‍🌈

I might not be able to do anything special this month, I might not be the first person to say this, I might not be the best person to say this, nobody might even read this post, but to any queer person who does: know that you are so valid and so special, and the world might be shitty sometimes, and people might be shitty sometimes, but if you’re having to deal with those, this community will always be open to you for anything, be it a rant of a cry or just advice, and I won’t tell you to be strong or anything because that’s fucking hard, but so many people here including me damn well welcome you if you need it. And if you already survived through the world and the people being shitty? I am so proud of you. This might not matter from some online stranger like me, but I am, and I want to say it. I’m proud of every queer person who made it through. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.

Have a great month! 🌈 Take care and drink lots of water!

#This felt like an agressibely supportive rant I would give to someone who feels invalid #i needed to get this out tho so whatever #Also this month is exam month I might only ge to draw anything special near the end #Idk well see #Anyways!!! Make sure to enjoy this month!!!#And know you’ll always be valid no matter what!!!!#Drink water!!!! God knows I’m always dehydrated don’t be like me #ily gays happy pride month #pride #lgbt pride #pride 2023 #pride month #happy pride month #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqplus #queer #pride month 2023

1 note · View note

buzz-in-your-veins · 7 months ago

Text

Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

1K notes · View notes

littleprinces · 4 months ago

Text

712 Times

(Weeekly Han Jihyo x Male Reader, A lot of Degrading, Rope Play, Pet Play, Vibrator, Nipple Clamps, Daddy kink, titfucking, Idol Jihan)

(this is my first collab with @smutoperator)

Happy Jihan Day!

In the dimly lit backstage of a bustling concert hall, excitement and anticipation filled the air. The stage was set for our highly anticipated comeback showcase, and I could hear the eager fans waiting on the other side of the curtain. Amidst the scattered crew members and bustling assistants, I stood there, my heart racing with a mixture of pride and longing. My girlfriend, Jihan, the enchanting idol, was out there performing with her group.

Tonight was special. After months of preparation, sweat, and tireless dedication, my girlfriend and her five group members were making their grand return to the spotlight. The thought of her captivating presence on stage brought a smile to my lips, but it also reminded me of the distance fame had placed between us. Yet, I cherished these moments when I could be near her, even if only from the shadows.

The muffled cheers of the audience reached my ears as the performance began. I could almost see her in my mind—her bright smile, graceful movements, and sheer charisma that made her an idol adored by many. As each song concluded, the applause grew louder, affirming the group's triumphant return. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, but finally, the showcase came to an end. The stage lights dimmed, and the audience's applause gradually faded.

I took a deep breath, my anticipation growing. Moments later, the backstage area buzzed with activity as the performers filed in, surrounded by their entourage. And then I saw her—my girlfriend, her face glowing with the exhilaration of the performance. As the performance ended and the backstage area buzzed with activity, I finally saw her making her way towards me. Her face lit up as she spotted me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"You were amazing out there," I said, pulling her into a tight hug. She laughed softly, a little out of breath. "Thank you. I could feel your support the whole time." "I wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You always shine so brightly." She blushed, leaning in for a quick kiss. "It's because I have you cheering me on. It makes all the difference."

We lingered in each other's arms for a moment longer before I asked, "Ready to head home?" She nodded eagerly. "Absolutely. Let's get out of here." Hand in hand, we made our way through the backstage chaos, slipping out to the quiet comfort of her apartment. In the car, she sighed contentedly. "I missed this. Just being with you, without all the noise."I squeezed her hand. "Me too. Let's make the most of tonight." As we reached her apartment and settled in, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us.

Jihan's new blonde hair made her look so hot it felt like she was 712 times more fuckable with it. Her 20th birthday was just a couple days away, so I felt like it was the perfect time to show her how much I wanted it and turn her into my personal pet. I tied her ankles and cuffed her hands, ready to dominate her and make her transition from an innocent teenager into a full-fledged slut. She had never ventured into this kind of relationship before, but I could tell she was really excited to try it.

I picked up a crop and gave Jihan's pussy a few taps that made her moan, teasing her on the apartment's couch as I quickly pulled her panties to the side. "Put your tongue out," I told her, giving it a few taps. After a few light hits in her clit, I took her bra off and started spanking her big tits with it, having fun with her sexy young body, before switching to using my own hands to grope her tits and finger her perfect pussy.

"I'm just teasing you, there is much more to come," I told Jihan, giving her body a few spanks. "What do you want little whore?" I asked her. "I want this fucking cock," she said with a soft voice. I answered her wishes, unzipping my pants for her to suck it, giving her back some light taps as Jihan slowly got my cock wet with her sloppy blowjob that made her tits bounce freely, while I reached to tap them from time to time.

"I see you like to take that cock deep in your throat; you suck it so good," I told her. I grabbed Jihan by her beautiful blonde hair, reaching to get a whip as she took my cock all the way down her throat. Shortly after, I started spanking her and then moved to fuck her pretty face. "You like that?" I asked her. "Ahhhh, yeah," Jihan moaned. "Say it." I increased the speed of the spanking, hitting her back multiple times. "Oh, I love it, Daddy," Jihan replied.

"Be a good girl; get on your knees on the couch and show me those tits," I demanded of her. Jihan gave me a cute stare and squeezed her big boobs between her tied-up arms. "What do you want, Jihan? My big cock after the showcase?" I asked her. "Yes, please, Daddy, please put it between my tits," she begged.

I did just that and started banging Jihan's big boobs. Quickly, I got back to spanking her. "Yes, yes, please, Daddy, spank me; I'm a bad girl, i'm your private whore" Jihan says, her eyes begging for me to dominate her as my meat got sandwiched between her big pair of tits. "Keep going, keep going, bounce those big tits in my cock," I said to her.

I show Jihan not only can I spank it with my whip, using my cock to hit her tits. "You like the way I treat your big tits?" I asked her. "Yes, daddy," she says. "You want that big dick inside you, Jihan?" I keep asking. "Please, Daddy," she says. "Maybe later, I'll think about it, but you'll have to deserve it," I tell her.

I tie Jihan to the couch's leg and start eating her pussy. "Don't cum, bitch, or you're not going to get my cock for tonight," I tell her. Her pussy turns into my playground as I massage it while kissing her and sucking her big milkers. My hands go deep down in her cunt, and soon I bring a cock-shaped vibrator into the mix, putting it on Jihan's mouth. "Get it wet; you'll have to take it your pussy to show me you deserve my cock," I tell her.

I move the vibrator into Jihan's entrance, slowly tucking it in her pussy as I turn it on, making her moan hard. I also pay special attention to her already erected nipples, massaging and sucking them multiple times as Jihan is already collapsing in pleasure before I even got inside her. Then I use the crop for some extra taps in her boobs to tease her.

I ran the crop around Jihan's thighs, spanking the area close to her pussy. "Count to ten each time I spank it," I tell her. "One, two, three, AHHHHH," Jihan says every time I hit her. I move up and go back to tease her boobs and then play further with the vibrator, turning Jihan into a mess of begging and moaning. "Stay strong. If you cum, you won't get Daddy's cock," I tell her.

After a long warming-up session, I'm finally ready to fuck the brains out of my girlfriend turned pet, removing the vibrator from Jihan's already extremely wet pussy. "Get back on the couch and turn around; I want you to show me that ass," I demand of her. Jihan gets on all fours in the couch, and as soon as she does, I violently whip her butt multiple times. "AH, AH, AH, AH," she screams. "Tell me what you want," I ask her. "YOUR COCK INSIDE ME," she screams.

Jihan's panties get pulled down as I marvel at the view of her perfect ass. More spanking ensues. "Little Slut wants my cock inside of her?" I keep asking. "YES, DADDY, GIVE ME ALL OF IT," she begs, screaming again. "Why do you want it?" I keep teasing. "Because it's so good, I want to be a good pet for Daddy, his little big tit cocksleeve," Jihan replies.

"Then take it," I say, putting my cock on Jihan's pussy and pounding her hard on all fours. "YES, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," she screams as I dominate her and spank her back and ass with my bare hands. Jihan's pussy get mercilessly fucked, her big boobs already bouncing hard. I treat her like a fleshlight. "Spank me, daddy, spank me, please," she says as I abuse her asscheeks and quickly make them red, enjoying how far that makes her boobs jiggle.

"OHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKK," Jihan screams as I keep attacking her pussy hard and deep. Her bouncy tits are such a spectacle, and her needy face even more so. Good lord, I could fuck her for 712 straight hours and never get tired of it.

"Pull my hair, please, Daddy, and spank me more," Jihan begs as I push her hot body closer to mine. That little horny pet keeps getting obliterated as I show no signs of slowing down, giving her tight young pussy the pounding it deserves. "AHHHHHH," Jihan screams again as I do it just as she asks. "You told me to do that; don't complain, little slut," I tell her.

"DADDY, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, OHHHHHHH," Jihan screams. I spank and fuck her even harder when I hear those words, fully mounding on top of her. Face down, ass up like a good slut, I treat Jihan like an object, only useful to get stretched out by my raging boner. She can only moan and scream as her big tits get pancaked against the couch each time I hit her deep in the pussy.

"Come here, little whore, show me how much you want to sit on that cock," I tell her, flipping Jihan back and feeding her face full of cock with no breaks in between. "Good slut, look at those beautiful bouncy tits; you're so good," I say to her. Jihan presses her beautiful, cute face against my cock, and I fully take her panties off and order her to suck my prick as I lie on the couch, spanking her while she does it. "Keep sucking that cock," I tell her as she tries to resist all that spanking.

"Sit that wet pussy in there," I soon demand, spanking Jihan's already red butt as soon as she puts my cock back inside her. Her big, bouncy boobs are already within range as Isuck them every time they come close to my face. "Give those titties to Daddy," I say, quickly taking control as I pound Jihan from down low and attack her tits with my tongue and her ass with my hands.

"Come on, use that cock; show me how much you like it," I tell Jihan, who's never been stimulated like that. "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," she screams. "Cum all over that fucking cock," I say, pounding her like crazy as Jihan collapses on top of my body. But I don't care and just keep fucking her throbbing cunt, also fingering her asshole to add to the stimulation, making Jihan cover my cock full of juices, using the crop to add to the ass-spanking of her.

I keep fucking Jihan nonstop as she clings onto my arms. She may be on top, but I completely own her. My girlfriend is turned into a free-use fleshlight who can't stop cumming on my cock. "Ride that fucking cock, slut," I demand of her, who bounces her red ass on it like a good slut. "Is that what you want, right little fuckdoll?" I tell her. "YES, DADDY," she replies.

I dive my face into Jihan's udders while she keeps riding my pole, her boobs hitting my mouth from every angle, making me go even more feral as her pussy is fully stretched out. "Stand up on the couch," I tell her as I pull out of her pussy, but my cock gets quickly replaced by my fingers massasing her core and making her squirt fountains of juices right straight into my mouth.

More riding ensues, as I'm now just watching Jihan do it in a straightened position, reaching with my hands and my crop to hit her big bouncy tits at will. Soon, I'm back to hitting Jihan's whole body: her pretty slutty face, her fully shaved pink pussy, her sexy butt, but first and foremost her massive milkers. "KEEP STRETCHING MY HOLES, DADDY," Jihan screams as I do just that.

After I'm done with this round of fucking, I let Jihan taste all the juices she coated my cock with, giving a gift to my cute pet as she bobs her head all over that big shaft. "Choke on that fucking cock," I tell her. "Now give me those tiddies," I quickly demand as Jihan spits between them and uses her boobs to massage my throbbing cock until you shot my load all over them.

"Damn, look at the mess I made on your big milkers," I told Jihan. But I was far from done, picking some clamps and placing them at her cum-covered nipples. "Your day as my pet is just beginning," I said. Next, I placed a dog collar on her neck and gave her an order. "Get on all fours; we're going to a different room, and I'm gonna fuck your even more," I told her. Jihan obeyed and crawled like a puppy until we reached our next destination.

Waiting for Jihan, there was an X-cross where I tied her up. As I slowly got myself hard again, I sucked her big tits and reached inside her wet pussy, teasing my pet girlfriend. "This is way more entertaining than what I was expecting," I tell Jihan. "Ohhh, yesss, Daddy, you like treating me like your pet?" Jihan asks. "A lot," I say as I start jerking off my cock and quickly get it back to throbbing hard for Jihan.

I slap my cock on Jihan's sexy thighs as I kiss her and finger her core. She starts moaning back again as I lift her left leg and put my cock back in her pussy. "Oh yes, that feels so good," Jihan says as I thrust my cock in and out of her cunt. "Just like that, Daddy," she says. I put her back on her feet and sucked her tits. "Such a good toy," I say.

I pick up the crop back and spank her ass, then tease her boobs and circle it around her nipples; more ass spanking follows as a tied-up Jihan can't do anything to stop me. Her boobs once again get the most attention as I do the sucking and spanking at the same time, before moving down into her pink pussy.

"What are you going to do next, Daddy?" Jihan asks. "You'll find out soon," I tell her. "Please, let me find out, Daddy," an already numb Jihan replies as I tease her clit with the crop. "But first I need to eat," I say, diving into her wet pussy to suck it. "Damn, daddy, that feels so good; I love that tongue," Jihan says.

"Does that pussy taste good enough for Daddy?" Jihan asks as she starts trembling, getting very weak as she's being held at the cross. "All my body is tingling, Daddy," she says as I move up to suck her tits and feed your fingers in her mouth.

"I want to fuck you from behind while you are standing," I tell Jihan. "Yes, Daddy, do whatever you want," she replies. I untie Jihan from the cross as she sucks my cock to get it back wet. "All I want to do is please you, Daddy," she says. "Then please me taking more cock in that pussy," I say, getting behind her and stretching her out once again, loving how the clamps on her nipples are bouncing when I fuck her.

"Is that pussy good enough for Daddy? Nice and wet, like you want it? Am I a good girl, Daddy?" Jihan keeps asking, but I let my thursts do the talk as her pussy starts queefing. "Yes, daddy, please, use my fucking hole," she says as my hips clap against her cheeks.

"Please keep fucking me; I'm Daddy's pet; that cock feels so good; please don't stop; Daddy loves my pussy," Jihan says as I indeed can't stop, giving her the special fucking I craved for, spending long minutes taking her from behind.

Jihan coats the floor with her squirt, and as soon as she does, I take it as a sign to push it harder. I lift Jihan's body up and start carry-fucking her. "OH MY GOD, DADDY," she screams as I attack her pussy while being the only one holding her so she doesn't fall off. "OH DADDY, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM AGAIN," an exausted Jihan says.

"No, you're gonna make me cum," I tell Jihan, brining her back to the couch and putting her sideways. "Your cock feels so good in my tight little pussy, daddy," Jihan says as she gets a good spooning fuck on the couch. After a while, I take her off of it and pin her against the glass, giving her another pounding. "Please, Daddy, give me more," she begs. It seems like I have fucked Jihan throughout the entire apartment at this point, but I just don't want to stop.

More spanking in Jihan's butt follows. "Harder, harder, please fuck me harder, Daddy," she begs, as she can barely stand up at this point. I have fucked her for around 30 minutes, but to her it must have felt like 3 hours considering how hard I have screwed her little pink pussy.

Jihan can barely walk at this point, but that won't stop me from using her for more pleasure. I feed my cock in her face again as I put her tied hands up. "Are you ready for another surprise, little pet?" I ask her. "Yes, daddy," she replies.

I bring a Sybian for Jihan to sit on, taking the controller on my hands. I start slowly, letting the vibrating cock work in her pussy as I watch her get wetter and wetter while I grab her tits. Slowly picking up speed, I put Jihan at the mercy of the machine while I dive her head into my shaft and pinch her clamped nipples. More face-fucking ensues as the sybian now works at full speed inside Jihan's cunt, to the point she can't contain herself anymore.

"Ride that dick, little whore" I tell her as Jihan quivers with the intense vibration on the inside. My hands massaging her tits, my cock massaging her mouth, the toy massaging her pussy—it's just too much for her to handle as Jihan gets an exploding orgasm that makes her squirt all over the carpet just as she announces she's going to cum.

"AHHHHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHHHH, PLEASSSEEEEEE, FUCKKKKKKK," Jihan screams as she collapses after the intense Sybian massage. But I have one more massage to give her, laying her back on the couch, ready to finish where it all started as I put Jihan under a mating press and intensely pound her pussy.

"Give me every single massage of that fucking cock, daddy," Jihan says. "I want you to cum inside my pussy; I want you to give me every single drop," she begs. That truly surprises me. Jihan had not taken any birth control pills, meaning she was essentially begging me to impregnate her, and surely I was gonna take the opportunity, emptying my balls inside her shortly after she demands to get her tight pussy filled up.

"That was so good, Jihan; I hope we fuck like that 712 more times," you tell her. "Well, Daddy, my birthday is coming in a few days. I hope you have a special gift for your little pet," she replies.

"You bet I will," I promise her. And you know she can't wait.

Back in Jihan's pussy I go, and she loves it. "Yes, daddy, yes, please, use that pussy for your pleasure; my pussy is all yours," Jihan moans. "I fucked your friend Zoa in that position a month ago for her birthday; her legs were so fucking long and her pussy so fucking tight I couldn't resist and had to cum inside her," I brag to Jihan, talking about how I cheated on her with her groupmate straight to her face, risking no consequences whatsoever because I own her.

"Ride that dick," I tell her as Jihan quivers with the intense vibration on the inside. My hands massaging her tits, my cock massaging her mouth, the toy massaging her pussy—it's just too much for her to handle as Jihan gets an exploding orgasm that makes her squirt all over the carpet just as she announces she's going to cum.

"That was so good, Jihan; I hope we fuck like that 712 more times," you tell her. "Well, Daddy, my birthday is coming in a few days. I hope you have a special gift for your little pet," she replies.

"You bet I will," I promise her. And you know she can't wait.

#female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #weeekly smut #jihan smut #han jihyo

598 notes · View notes

slimslamflimflam · 5 months ago

Text

Merry pride month :3

Also here is my official apology video to everyone trapped in inbox purgatory

#specifically happy pride month to the dusty old merman requests that’ve been aging for quite some time #got back into minecraft + nearing end of the semester so heavy workload + other things on art back burner that take priority #+ just don’t wanna do em tbh but still will at some point #my art !! :]#insert witty pun about queues here

8 notes · View notes

shibaraki · 1 year ago

Text

THE VANISHING MOON ┊ TSUKISHIMA KEI

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, exes to lovers, fluff, emotional hurt + comfort, reader is a writer, alcohol consumption, mutual pining, getting back together, kisses, weddings, previous ‘mutual’ breakup, happy ending

wc: 4.2K

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

The first time you picked up a pen with the intention to write you’d been looking for a specific someone. To pour love into and be loved by. Conjured from the recesses of your mind, a soft smile from the boy you liked, one prepared to whisk you away from the converging angst that came with your adolescence.

In later years you looked inward, searching for yourself. To satiate your loneliness through self introspection. Ink blotted fingers working arduously at the knots that make up the soul. Knots that were once straight rope, simple and without weak points. And when you failed to love yourself you turned outward, exploring the web that made up the world.

You saw that other people loved stories, too. That there would always be at least one which speaks to them in some way and stays with them. You coveted that reality; to be something another person could love, and look back on with fondness. For your words to strike such a chord that they’d become part of another’s tapestry. To live on. Never again be forgotten, even if it means being an echo of something.

That yearning accompanies you up the cobbled footpath. The crisp air pinching the tips of your ears. Soft, muted chirps rippled throughout the treeline. “Wow,” you murmur, breathless. Arms sticky with perspiration, leg muscles tingling in exertion after walking the steep hill.

The reception venue sits on the end of a private road, concealed by threadbare canopy. Under an open sky there lay every shade and stroke of colour. Dappled sunlight casts shadows across the grass and your eyes are drawn to them.

“Wow is right. They’ve done an incredible job,” Sugawara airs his appreciation as he walks at your side. His voice is awed, and his cheeks are red. “I can’t believe they managed it. Karumai Gardens are notoriously stingy for booking events”.

The wedding invitation shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Remaining some of your closest friends, Kiyoko and Tanaka had already confirmed your attendance long before the formal invites were sent out. You even found yourself on the end of multiple phone calls over the months assisting a panicked Tanaka with writing and rewriting his vows.

Despite that, your stomach roiled at the invitation on your kitchen counter, and your heart crawled up into your throat. Because suddenly it was too real.

Everybody would be there.

Tsukishima would be there.

You’ve been a high strung for most of the day, hyper vigilant to the point of fraying. The ceremony was beautiful. Kiyoko looked ethereal draped in her white lace gown, a delicate veil cascading down her back and rippling down the aisle as she walked. Tanaka was striking in his dark blue suit and embroidered waistcoat. Sitting at the forefront, you remained steadfast in your ignorance of Tsukishima’s scrunity and dabbed at your face as you cried.

You missed having his attention. Missed the subtle stroke of his sharp gold eyes across every part of you as though it were Tsukishima’s hands themselves. A scant, cowardly part of you considered not attending the reception, grateful that he hadn’t approached you yet. If he would at all. Kei could be unbearably prideful about these things. But what do you know?

Nothing. After all this time you probably know nothing at all.

“I think he wants to talk to you,” Sugawara says, drawing your focus to the present. “It’s obvious he’s missed you”.

You edge past the increasingly dense foliage with intent, your fingertips outstretched to brush the near-blooming plants. “Who?” you ask. Sugawara’s grin turns wry and he threads his arm through yours.

“So petty,” he murmurs, patting your bicep. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But he’s single, and has been staring at you all day. I thought I should mention it”.

“Well you’ve mentioned it,” you return without true malice, squeezing him back. Sugawara’s lips parted in a sigh, and for a brief second, you saw a wistful expression beneath the lighthearted veneer. It stirs unease in your chest and you add, “I just don’t want to make a scene”.

“You really think that’s what it’ll come to?”

Memories unearthed from the deep recesses of your mind. Packed away into tight spaces and left to collect dust where they can’t hurt you. They awaken easily, triggered by a simple question, and with such clarity that you wonder if you ever forgot them at all.

Soft, deliberate touches. Long, warm embraces, swallowed up by his large frame. Graceless laughter—the ugly kind that makes your stomach hurt. Languorous kisses, biting kisses, chaste kisses, clumsy kisses. Good morning and good night kisses. Bickering over breakfast. Bickering over dinner. Wandering, calloused hands. Pressure behind two fingers, splitting you like soft fruit. A sharp tongue and sharper words. Holding hands in bed, anchoring yourself to him like you were afraid he might float away in the night.

Life became busier than either of you expected. Kei landed an opportunity to play for a division two team in the V league alongside his work at the Sendai city museum. Your publisher's demands increased. Kei’s priorities shifted. Resentment crept in. He started to forget things. Small promises and favours, like getting the grocery’s or making it home for date night. They felt so significant at the time—things you deemed indicative of his commitment to you, without communicating as such.

Fractures formed in your relationship. You ignored them in favour of keeping the peace, hoping to address them when the timing was better. Only with hindsight can you say that was the wrong choice. The fractures contracted, expanded until it grew into a yawning cavity with one of you standing either side of it. A slow decay.

“No. No, it wouldn’t,” you tell Sugawara. Tsukishima has never been a shining paragon of virtue but he wouldn't do anything to disrupt Tanaka’s wedding. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen him since…”

Sugawara hums his acknowledgment. You’re adrift as he guides you into the venue holding the wedding reception, welcomed into a kaleidoscope of colour. Carefully crafted floral arrangements line the hall. Half of the building is a greenhouse conversion, and natural light filters in through the high, arching ceilings, illuminating the dance floor. You take in the surroundings as your senses are enveloped by the pleasant din.

“Look, there’s Yachi and Nishinoya,” Sugawara tugs on your arm and calls out, “Yachi! Noya!”

Nishinoya crowed, leaping forward to gather you and Sugawara into a blistering hug. Barely two extra inches on him yet larger than you remember, skin kissed by the sun and his hair handsomely coiffed. His waistcoat creases awkwardly with the stretch of his body while you sink into his warmth and feel your cheeks ache.

“Man, I feel like I could scale a mountain! It’s so good to see you guys again,” Nishinoya reclines to get a look at you both and firmly takes you by the shoulders. “You have a lot to answer for,” he says with mock seriousness.

“I do?” you laugh, skull knocking side to side as he shakes you.

“I read your book on the plane”.

Your laughter putters out. You grimace and clear your throat, “Oh—really?”

“Most of us have. We wanted to support you properly,” Yachi admits as she steps forward to hug you. She’s smiling when she pulls away, faint laughter lines deepening.

Sugawara nods and pokes at your waist, “Don’t look so embarrassed. It was amazing”.

“It made me cry!” Nishinoya effuses. He sniffs, and to your mortification he looks like he might burst into tears again. “There was this one line—gah, no! I can’t talk about it. Get over here, I need to hug you again”.

“Thank you, Noya-san,” you wheeze at the arms constricting around your midsection, eyes clenched shut to repress the impending sting. You turn your head, nose knocking against his temple as you peer at the others. “Thank you all. I mean it”.

Yachi squirms, her smile quivering. “I’m really happy you made it today,” she says once you’ve been released. The unyielding pressure of Nishinoya’s embrace lingers like two phantom limbs. “You too, Nishinoya-san”.

“It’s amazing you’re upright. I thought for sure the jet lag would get to you,” Sugawara laughs. He utters a quick apology to the server passing with a tray of drinks. “Didn’t you fly in from Barcelona?”

“Yeah. Should’a been heading to Andorra but I wouldn’t miss my bro’s wedding for the world,” Nishinoya’s voice drifts as his eyes follow the alcohol. He plucks a glass in one swift motion and holds it high, “Salut I força al canut!”

Yachi watches him throw back the drink with poorly veiled anxiety. “Ah, speaking of, we should find our seats. It looks like the cake cutting is starting soon”.

“Good call. We’re getting in the way of the preparations. And I think you’ve left Asahi alone for too long,” Sugawara claps Nishinoya on the shoulder. “Looks like he’s been accosted by Saeko-san”.

Nishinoya pivots on his heel, whip-like and buzzing. You’re not sure which name he reacted to more. Asahi or Saeko. “Where?” his gaze locks in on the pair across the room. “I’ll talk to you guys in a bit!”

Gone in a blink. “He never slows down,” Sugawara sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Guess that’s my cue,” he says before parting ways. Yachi waves after them.

An idea strikes you then. “Say, Yacchan. You’re next to me, right?” you glance toward the long tables set up around the dance floor and meet her gaze with a suggestive smile. “Would you want to sit next to Yamaguchi instead? I don’t mind swapping”.

Their relationship had blossomed over the past few months. A long, slow burn finally come to fruition, new enough that mention of it usually makes her turn pink. But the light in her eyes dims at your suggestion, and rather than flustered, Yachi looks uncertain.

Her fingers form a loose clasp around your forearm. “Tadashi is seated next to Tsukishima,” she explains gingerly. You feel yourself freeze and the kind motion of her thumb strokes circles along the inside of your wrist.

You let out a shaky exhale. “That’s okay. I don’t mind,” you tell her before the consequences of what you’re offering can really be cemented. Yachi’s eyes widen, her grip tighter on your hand as you squeeze back in an attempt at reassurance, knowing your smile looks brittle. “It’s probably for the best. We haven’t… talked yet”.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”.

“Are you sure you’re sure?”

“Hitoka,” you laugh, bumping your shoulders together. “I promise I’ll survive”.

You regret it not two minutes later.

Anticipation fizzes under your skin as you spot him. On approach you give him a cursory look over, the harsh beat of your heart ricocheting in your chest. Tsukishima looks good—he always does, but today, dressed in his dark, double breasted suit, with the golden hour light carding fingers through his neatly styled hair, you think he’s never looked better.

It is disconcerting to see him again and realise that your feelings haven’t changed much in the slightest.

You sit in the chair beside him. You see his spine draw taut in the corner of your eye and feel an oscillating loneliness; so alike those final few weeks together that cold dread seeps between the spaces in your ribs and steals your breath.

“Tsukishima,” you incline your head, impersonal and cautious, hating how foreign his surname is on your tongue.

A beat passes before he repeats your name in greeting, soft as a psalm despite the dour expression on his face. You’re overcome with the urge to poke the uncomfortable crease in his brow. To smooth it out and kiss the skin there, the way you used to do.

You shift in your seat. The arms curve around your midsection and knock against your elbows as you fiddle with the table cloth, “I told Yacchan that Yamaguchi could have my seat so they can sit together. I hope that’s alright”.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” and you know the clipped answer is reflexive by the way his jaw locks in frustration at himself. Bracing for what you’ll say next.

Only, your mouth curls up a little, and you exhale a short laugh through your nose. You haven’t seen him this skittish since your first year of highschool. You consider that maybe you aren’t the only one who’s scared. That things are the same and they are not the same. The thought is bittersweet, but it’s nice, the way his trepidation gives way to muted awe, how he sends you sidelong glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

The music picks up in a grand crescendo as the newlyweds enter the hall and the reception begins with a raucous applause. A rich aroma unfurls as the food is served, the depth of the flavour layering over the already present notes of wildflower and honey. Drinks are handed to the guests. Generously. You swirl the liquid gold around the rim of your glass, luxuriating in the syrupy inebriation of a gently oaked chardonnay.

“So, uh. How’ve you been?”

Tsukishima, to his credit, does not startle at the question. “Fine,” he says, and you think he might leave it at that when he adds, “The museum received another new Crinoid collection last month, so I’ve been preoccupied”.

You grasp at the conversational thread, not wanting him to stop, “Crinoids?”

“Marine animals. They still exist today, though not as common. You might’ve heard of sea lilies and feather stars,” he shrugs halfheartedly, not daring to look away from his deep fried tofu, though it’s clear he can’t help talking about his work with pride. “Ours are from the Triassic period”.

“Just like the, uh—” you click your fingers to conjure the name from thin air “—Gojirasaurus! Your favourite, right?”

Tsukishima pauses. It’s a fleeting thing, but you notice. The corner of his lips curves into a barely-there smile. He seems pleased that you remembered. You busy your hands with repositioning the cutlery a fourth time so maybe, hopefully, you can distract yourself enough not to say something stupid like: “If I visit, will you show it to me?” or “Do you miss me, like I miss you?”

You clear your throat. “I hear the Sendai Frogs have been doing well, too. Congratulations on moving up to division one”.

Those aureate eyes are sliding to you again, bright and searching. Tsukishima arches his brow in a delicate mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was sixteen and even more so now. “Keeping tabs on me, are you?”

There’s mirth trickling into his voice, giving it a familiar smarmy lilt. A wave of emotion washes over you. Embarrassment and heart-twisting-happiness. You shove some rice into your mouth and chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “No. I read about it in the latest Volleyworld issue,” you reply unconvincingly.

“You don’t read Volleyworld”.

“How would you know that?”

Tsukishima takes a shallow breath and nods. The warm gloam of late afternoon mellows his taut features. “I’ve been reading too,” he says after another sip of wine. “I saw you finally published your book”.

Dread seized the inner workings of your mind and the apology on the tip of your tongue curdles. Time ticks by, one sickening second after another. Your eyes dip low to avoid his gaze—which for some reason, he refused to direct anywhere else.

Your recollection of the break up itself was hazy at best. There had been no raised voices, no desperate movie-esque kiss, no slammed doors. Only grief filling your body like lead, and jumbled, half-hysterical thoughts of ‘Is this it? Are we giving everything up, just like that?’

You remember everything that followed, though. The inability to accept reality. It is said if a writer falls in love, that love can never die. And so you kept writing, and writing, and writing; perceiving love through different lenses, creating different endings; relying on metaphors of natural forces and disasters, of cannibalism and gluttony, of journeys and patience to make sense of it all. Six months after everything fell apart you completed the final draft of ‘The Vanishing Moon’, dedicating a final testimony to him in small print on the first page.

Given the choice, I would’ve rather had you at my side than any one of these words.

Has he seen it? Is that what he’s getting at? Did he read through all eighteen chapters and meticulously pick out the remnants of him you pressed between the pages?

“Noya said it made him cry,” you eventually reply.

Tsukishima signals for another drink. He takes two flutes from the server, handing one to you. You accept it with a soft ‘thanks’, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your fingers. “Nishinoya-san cried when he found out swans can be gay,” he points out.

“You cried at The Land Before Time”.

“What kind of cold hearted bastard doesn’t cry at The Land Before Time?”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest as the initial dread ebbs away and the tension seeps from your shoulders. Tsukishima dips his chin, a small smile as he mutters, “That’s better”.

In the centre of the hall Tanaka cradles Kiyoko in his arms, now surrounded by clusters of their loved ones whirling with their own partners, a hurricane of colour and laughter and love. Tsukishima observes them with a solemn gleam in his eye. That could’ve been us, his heart says in chorus with your own.

“Do you remember that time we danced together in third year, at the summer festival? I tried to kiss you and gave you a nosebleed”.

“I remember”.

Your gaze drops to the bottom of your glass. At the time you had been mortified. Now it’s a story you would share at your own wedding table. The thought cleaves your heart in half.

“Do you remember the song that was playing?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Tsukishima snaps. “Yes, I remember everything. I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to. Happy?”

There’s a surge of something devastating in your chest, like love and heartbreak all at once, strong enough that you feel as if your ribs might splinter just to make room for it. But they don’t—and you don’t, because you’ve felt this before, and your body remembers.

You remember.

Suddenly the room is too hot, and the music is too loud. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute,” you murmur, pushing your chair back and getting to your feet.

“Wait,” in one short breath there are long, calloused fingers circling your wrist. You do wait. Tsukishima hesitates, the pressure elevates, and as you lean away your palm slips into his, skin kissing skin. Then he’s standing, towering over you. “I’ll come with you. I know a place that’s quiet”.

Tsukishima does not let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of his. He walks a few steps ahead guiding you through the throngs of people. Some familiar heads turn, their attention drawn immediately to the place where your bodies meet, and shooting you various looks of encouragement or confusion. Yamaguchi sees you pass and his mouth splits into a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle.

You’re not sure where it is he’s taking you, only that his promise of finding quiet is true. The cacophony simmers and soon enough the festivities are muffled entirely. Just when you think you’ve wound up at the end of a corridor it curves, leading to a pair of french doors. “Come on,” Tsukishima ushers you out onto a balcony.

What you’re greeted by makes your breath catch. The world as it is around you comes to a standstill, the fabric of reality peeling away. An orange yolk dips below the horizon and the sunset hour drapes across the ostensibly endless meadow hidden behind the Karumai Gardens. Rolls of grass sway in the wind, peppered with wildflowers of every shade.

You move to stand at the balcony’s edge. Tsukishima drops his hand, and your fingers curl into your palm. The shadows grow longer, the air cooler. The evening insects begin to sing. You’re warmed still by the wine thrumming in your bloodstream.

“Hey, Tsukki?”

He comes to stand beside you, folding his arms atop the wall. “Don’t call me that”.

“Oh,” you swallow against the swell in your throat. “Sorry, Tsukishima”.

Tsukishima’s expression twists into a scowl. There’s a blush creeping toward his ears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. You blink and wait for him to elaborate, which only flusters him further. He stares stubbornly at the border. “Just—call me as you normally would. Anything else sounds wrong in your mouth”.

The name leaves you in an instant. Hushed—not whispered, “…Kei”.

He makes an inquisitive noise, strangled as it is.

“You didn’t say what you thought of it,” you continued. “My book”.

You feel a rush of adrenaline when Kei doesn't answer immediately, unable to read his expression. “Good,” he says, veiled indifference belied by the restless twisting of a cufflink between his forefinger and thumb. “It was good”.

“Well, that’s practically a Pulitzer recommendation coming from you”.

“Shut up,” he huffed, gaze flitting across your face and dropping to your tentative, uncertain beginning of a smile. He wets his lips and glances away. Heartened, both by the alcohol and his reciprocation, you press closer in small increments, and Kei flowers under your gentle persuasion, like he always used to.

“This okay?”

In lieu of a reply you are ensconced by a warm, firm chest and two strong arms around your back that show no sign of withdrawing. The low timbre of his voice vibrates under your cheek, “Who was it for?”

“Hm?”

“The book. You dedicated it to someone”.

You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re glad, in part, that he can’t see the emotion written plainly on your face. “Nobody,” you answer lightly, angling to position your ear right over his beating heart. “Just an ex. You don’t know him”.

“Right,” Kei says, drawing out the ‘l’ the way he does when conceding a point he knows he’s correct about. It sounds so fond that you want to curl up where you’re resting, like some benevolent cat. “Guy must’ve been a dick”.

“I was too. We made a lot of mistakes, I think,” you say. If nothing came of this you would at least be able to revisit it; to pick at the scab and stop the wound from closing over too soon. There’s comfort in that. You crane your head and meet his gaze, nervous but unwavering. “But even if he was kind of a dick, I miss him a lot”.

“Yeah?” his eyes soften, half lidded and dark. “He misses you too”.

“He told you that, did he?” your mouth trembles. Kei dips to bring your foreheads together, and the hard frame of his glasses bumps your eyebrow. You share a shaky exhale of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, brow pinched with regret. Again, “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up”.

You feel your jaw quiver. The familiar burn behind your eyes. Tears so close you can taste them. “We both did. Don’t shoulder the blame on your own”.

“But I made you feel lonely,” he says.

You tuck your chin and whisper, “Yes”.

His fingers splayed across your cheek, pinky tucked beneath your jaw as he cradled your face in his hand, tilting until you’re staring back at the reflection in his pupils. Puffy and damp, eyelashes clumped with tears. What a sight.

Kei strokes his thumb in an arc beneath your eye. A tear beads on his nail, slipping into the crook of his hand. The inexpressible tenderness is overwhelming yet you are underwhelmed by the inaction. You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed by the whine in your voice as you ask, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Demanding as ever. What happened to ‘please’?” he murmurs. And then he kisses you.

It is slow at first, hesitant, leaving room for you to pull away. But with every languid movement of Kei’s lips came a sweet affirmation, that which you took and took until you no longer felt unworthy of receiving it. His hand flutters at your waist. You take a shuddered breath, pressing closer into his embrace and deepening the kiss. In his distraction you take him by the wrist, encouraging him to touch. There’s an immediate, reverent grip at your hip, kneading over your clothes.

This is what you’d been longing for. The feeling you couldn’t transpose; that which people have long tried to capture. The esoteric, giddy anticipation and joy that bubbled between two people on the precipice of something bigger than themselves. Even with an affinity for stringing words together you are scarcely able to describe it. Immense and overwhelming, light and dark, tender and everything in between.

Kei pulls away for breath with a low, vibrating hum, wearing a smile that you thought you’d never see outside of your memories. Almost boyish when he looks at you. The distance is an inch too many but it is just that—an inch. “Eager,” he teases, only to kiss you again, twice as eager.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

But love doesn’t only exist in stories.

You remember that, now.

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyu x reader

1K notes · View notes

throneofsapphics · 8 months ago

Text

finding you again, part one

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: references to utm, war, disease

a/n: sorry for the delay! part two coming in the next few days, if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!

series masterlist

Shockwaves of magic swept through Prythian and the surrounding islands at once. It felt like the ground beneath your feet shifted. Once, twice, three times - and you heard shouts from around you. You took a brief moment to thank the mother that it wasn’t just in your head.

You picked up the basket, sprinting back towards your home. Herbs flew out of the sides, but you’d go back to collect later. Whatever this was now, it was huge. You felt it in your bones, something in your world was changing, everything seemed to come to a standstill - the rest could wait.

The entire island was tense for the next few days, everyone waiting to see what did happen. Whispered murmurs of the possibilities, of the could-be’s, of the tentative hope blossoming - a hope nobody let show publicly.

Secluded by yourselves, the wards you’d collectively put together at the beginning of Amarantha’s reign, near impenetrable, made news difficult to come by.

Three days later, a tingling sensation on the back of your neck woke you. It was gone by the time you’d rushed into your kitchen, fingers white-knuckled around a dagger.

Two letters. One addressed to the inhabitants of the town, wax sealed with the stamp of the Night Court. Next to it, one with just your name.

Shaking hands, unsteady breaths, you ripped it open, ignoring the sting of a small cut on your index finger.

Your eyes flew over the words. The paper began to fold under your tight grip, edges wrinkling.

Unsteady breaths, a lone tear dripping down your cheek, it took minutes of pacing and intentional breathing to collect yourself.

Bringing it back to your room, you climbed half under your bed, sliding a loose board aside and shoved the letter inside, sliding a box over it. That couldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

Grabbing the other envelope, swinging your door open, a cool spring breeze hitting your face, reddening your cheeks and nose, before heading to share the news.

You ignored the other implication of the situation. The particular scent lingering on the envelope. You hadn’t thought of him in years, and now wasn’t the time to start.

“The High Lord wants to visit,” the older female breathed, eyes wide as she turned her gaze to you, before frowning. “Why would he ask?”

“He could be having difficulty getting through the wards,” her mate said, covering the female’s hand with his own, mouth curving at the corners, a twinkle of pride. Well deserved, he had painstakingly designed them.

“Or he’s sending this as a courtesy, they got the letter to us after all,” she snorted, but returned his smile.

You knew who’d sent the letter. The hint of night chilled mist and cedar so unique you couldn’t have imagined it.

With Madja’s help, you’d gotten permission from Rhysand to leave Velaris sixty years ago, for a while able to visit every few months until…

You subconsciously rubbed the bargain tattoo on your ribcage. Three stars surrounded by a circle, your promise to never reveal the location of Velaris.

Azriel knew his brother needed a distraction, and frankly - he needed to leave the damn city. The once safe haven that had become a necessary prison. He was too self-aware to discount the other reason, the need to lay eyes on you and see that you were safe, at least somewhat.

Rhys shot him a curious look when he volunteered too quickly - when Azriel had raised the idea.

“There’s wards surrounding the island,” he schooled his face neutral - the spymaster, doing his job, “are near impenetrable.” Except perhaps by you or me, he didn’t need to say aloud. Yes, he’d sent shadows to scout the area soon after the curse broke, and they’d brought interesting reports in turn.

Rhys nodded, and Azriel sat across from him as he wrote out two letters, sealing and sliding them across the table.

One was addressed to … you. His blink of surprise gave him away.

“You know her?” Rhys’s eyes glimmered. He’d been discreet with his lovers, and of course he was aware Rhys knew, but just because he’d thought of you didn’t mean he wanted to share with others. But … the amused expression in Rhys’s eyes wavered, revealing some of the strain beneath.

A distraction, that’s what his brother and High Lord needed, and perhaps he could do with a touch of vulnerability.

“We were involved … before she left.”

“I know,” Rhys smirked. For fucks sake. “Why do you think I let her leave and keep knowledge of Velaris? It was obvious she could keep a secret - she never said a word about your … involvement, to anyone else.”

Again, something he knew, but he had the decency to show a touch of surprise.

Azriel raised a brow, a gentle nudge against the shields barricading his mind, and he lowered them slightly.

“You’re willing to make a bargain?” Rhys leaned back in his chair, you seated before him, fidgeting and brimming with energy.

“Yes,” your voice was strong and firm.

“Very well,” his mouth turned up at the corners, a smile designed to put people at ease - it worked on you.

The bargain was fair and concise. You could leave Velaris, and return as you wish as long as you never revealed or hinted to the name, location, or existence of Velaris.

Azriel pushed Rhys out, slamming walls back in place. “Why are you showing me this?”

“You want to investigate the island, don’t you?” He wanted to slap the smirk off the other male's face. “She’s one person you know intimately,” Azriel rolled his eyes, “who lives there.”

“I doubt she would speak to me,” he retorted dryly.

“You’d be surprised what time and distance can do,” he countered. Az shook his head, he wouldn’t let false hope sink in, hope of regaining your … friendship. Maybe seeing you, even if it was just once, would be enough.

A day later, Azriel stood on a cliff, wards pulsing with magic in front of them. Rhys to his left, Mor flanking his other side, they waited for … well, he wasn’t entirely what. For someone who would let them in. Rhys had sent a charmed parchment, designed to deliver their answer immediately, and everything in the letter sounded perfectly enthusiastic.

Magic parted enough to reveal an older female and male - centuries older than themselves given the wrinkles starting to line their faces, appearing as if they were close to fading. Both carried themselves with confidence, but a warm and open demeanor as they bowed deeply.

“Thank you for coming to see us,” the male rasped.

He took brief notes of their names, the introduction, while sending discreet shadows to poke around the rest of the wards and small community. Due diligence and routine instinct now. They eyed him just a touch of caution, but it didn’t phase him, it never had.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “we’ve prepared lunch.”

“Not at all,” Rhys smiled, the warmth in his tone almost matching the one he used with the citizen’s of Velaris, still laced with subtle authority.

Less than a quarter of a mile, and they approached a quaint looking town. Stone houses, slightly corroded by salty air, but built sturdily - ready to weather any type of storm. Sure, he’d heard all of this through his shadows but seeing had a different effect. Paved pathways, a few different shops and a tavern.

“Not much of an economy now,” she was telling Mor, “we trade what we can, all help each other out. Kept to ourselves the last few decades.” Kept to ourselves.

‘They locked themselves away,’ Rhys’s voice flooded through his mind. “The community is small enough that Amarantha didn’t bother looking.” But they’d been a vital trading port for the Night Court before. He was surprised she’d ignored it. “I was too,” Rhys said.

Ignored, but she’d considered them anyway. A sickening feeling coiled in his gut. If Amarantha had gotten to you …

“The healer you recommended,” the male spoke to Rhys, pulling him from his mind, ''saved all our lives when a disease swept through, ‘bout thirty years ago. A great female.”

“One of the best healers I know,” Rhys replied. It was the truth. As far as healers went, you were one of the best available. He wondered if you knew the other reason you were sent here; If Hybern were to attack the Night Court, they all suspected this Island would be the first target, and a skilled and trustworthy healer was needed on the ground. On the front lines. That sickening feeling returned, and Azriel knew he needed to set his own eyes, not just shadows, on you before he left.

You couldn’t avoid the lunch, not without raising suspicion. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. He was the spymaster, after all, not usually sent to do courtesy visits. Still, this had been the talk of the town for the last two weeks.

‘The High Lord,’

‘Do you think he’s as handsome as they say?’

‘He isn’t mated or married, is he?’

Mother above. You had to try and match their excitement, to blend in. They couldn’t know you grew up seeing him frequently in Velaris. All they’d known is you apprenticed with one of the Inner Circle’s preferred healers - and even that was a rumor you’d never confirmed or denied.

Hand braced on your doorframe, three conscious breaths, and you pushed it open, forcing your hands to relax at your sides, keeping your strides even and steps paced.

A small crowd had gathered outside of the largest tavern, and you weaved yourself into the fray, balancing on your toes to catch a glimpse through the open doors.

Hazel eyes connected with yours, and your stomach dropped.

Just your luck. You couldn’t bring yourself to break the gaze, the way his eyes searched you, the brief hint of relief in them. Why the hell was he relieved? He’d made it perfectly clear you meant little to him, and now he meant nothing to you.

Slipping backwards, you tore your gaze away and slipped down the street.

“Go ask her some questions,” Rhys had thrown a hint of command into his tone. He wanted Azriel to gain some kind of information from you. It made sense. He wanted, needed, to see you anyway. “I’ll keep everyone distracted.”

Easy enough for him, Azriel took the next chance to melt into the shadows, to follow you. You led him right to a secluded cliff, sitting a few safe paces back, arms wrapped around your knees, squeezing tighter and he approached from the side - in your line of sight.

“What do you need?” He wasn’t surprised by the harshness. Pausing a good few paces to your left, he sat, legs kicked out in front of him, bracing his palms on the cold stone.

“To ask a few questions.”

“Go ahead,” you muttered, still keeping your eyes off him.

“How did you remain hidden all of these years?”

“Magic. Wards. Things Fae more skilled than I created.”

Truth, a shadow sung in his ear.

“Who?”

“You probably already met them,” you groused. He fought back a smirk, he’d forgotten how cute you could be when you were grumpy, and promptly wiped that idea from his mind.

“Tell me anyway.”

You listed the two who’d greeted them. Not surprising. It also told him it wasn’t quite a secret, especially with the brief pride flashed in your eyes.

“Did you have to … give anything to it?”

“Ask them.”

“I’m asking you,” he countered mildly. You wouldn’t get away with evading his questions.

“A bit of blood and a bit of magic.”

He hummed. Rhys would probably ask similar questions, but it was good to hear from another source.

“Why did you need to come here?” Venom filled your tone.

“By our High Lord's request,” Azriel said dryly.

By our High Lord’s request. Of course there was no interest in seeing you. You were merely a bonus, a person he could easily ask questions to. You hated yourself for letting the thought cross your mind.

“I wanted to see you, as well,” you almost missed the softly spoken words.

“What made you think I want to see you?” You shot at him, finally turning to face him.

“I didn’t say that,” a brief flash in his eyes. “I said I wanted to see you.”

“You’ve seen me,” you waved a hand. “Any more questions?” Brief silence. “Good. Leave me the fuck alone.” Forever, the narrowing of your eyes said.

“You should know,” he tilted his head back, this time escaping your gaze. “I didn’t forget about you - I”

“Just stop,” you hissed. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The implication struck you - others had forgotten, and he knew that. Azriel leaned forward, eyes on the ocean, knees raising and forearms bracing on them.

“Amarantha may be gone,” a shiver ran down your spine - at the name, and the low and deadly tone, “but Hybern will still cause issues.” War. “Rhys will give the same warning to your town today. Velaris and here may be the safest places in the Night Court.”

“Is he asking us to open the wards?” Because they’d do it in a heartbeat, and you knew that.

“Perhaps,” Azriel said, and turned back to you, hazel eyes searching for something. “You’d be safe here.”

“If there’s going to be a fucking war, i’ll be there. Healing.”

“I know,” an unrecognizable set of emotions flashed in his eyes. “I’d see you there.”

“I hope not,” you countered, keeping your eyes fixed on the waves, on the white foam topping them. A current so violent only the strongest swimmers braved it. “I might not like you, but I don’t want to see anyone,” you emphasized, “hurt.”

Azriel nodded, and rocked forward, rising to his feet. He offered a hand to you, you ignored it, pushing yourself up and facing the path back to town.

“Stay safe, spymaster,” you looked over your shoulder, “and do it far away from me, won’t you?”

A grin crossed your face at the brief ire reflecting on his and you strode off.

taglist: @mellowarcadefun @acourtofbatboydreams @sheblogs @macimads @sirens-and-moonflowers @tele86 @kalulakunundrum @anxious-study @mika-no-sekai-blog @judig92 @randomperson1234sblog @fightmedraco @caraaaaugh @thelov3lybookworm @tothestarsandwhateverend @fxckmiup @scatteredstardustt @tooweirdtolive-toorareto-die @redcap3girl @boygeniuses10 @anuttellaa @aunicornmademedoit

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel acotar

548 notes · View notes

starryficsfinishwen · 2 months ago

Text

── .✦ doomsday game ; xiangli yao x reader

if the world was ending, would you love me for the hell of it? syn. if, theoretically, the world were to end today, what would you do? if you ask xiangli yao, he wouldn't mind spending the last days on earth with you.

*inspired by 4* zayne card with the same name (love and deepspace)

a.n. - oh god he corrupts me I love him. HAPPY RELEASE DAY XIANGLI YAO!!! As an honor for getting his weap, for now being guaranteed (my S1 Xiangli Yao is glacio and short??), I GIVE THIS FIC AS MY THANK YOU. ALSOHAHSHSHSHS I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE WRONG FIC IM SORRY BUT HERE IT IS

pairing - xiangli yao x f!rover

words - will edit when I switch to lappy

content warnings - none!! major fluff!! also pre-established relationship

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Potent rumors often plant seeds of disbelief.

It often came as a small white lie, an utterance between two consenting parties. When it reaches the leeching tongue of the birds, they fall to the ground, sprouting things that are weeds to the truth. If left alone, they would deter nature's course.

For example, the rumors somewhat turned into some prophecy— “the world is ending soon”.

How does it end? They say it's a global snowstorm. Maybe another global flood. A supernova collision. No, they definitely said it was an onslaught of active volcanoes erupting to create a flood of lava. Or maybe, some Sentinel wished for immense havoc, with its god-like power awakening to slaughter everything in its path.

However, for scientists like Xiangli Yao, all those claims seem comical.

“The world is ending soon?” A fellow scientist slaps his own knee, “That's complete bull!”

In the middle of the long table of the Academy, what was once a flickering 3D map of Jinzhou was temporarily dimmed; instead, a couple of scientists had gathered, playing cards for their breaktime.

“I know, right? It's too funny; they really think the world is ending so soon.”

One of them throws the card, a chorus of laughter.

“My findings say otherwise,” said a cocky researcher, “The fluctuations isn't very severe. We can live to see another millennia here in our world!”

“The plants and people are still alive and well.” The glimmer of a card catches everyone else's attention, “Very far from the truth indeed.”

One scientist lets out an indignant huff, “But how did they even reach that conclusion? Do they have the data?”

The group pauses for a bit. Some bit their lip, another shuffled their cards, and the other couldn't help but sigh. “Um, proof or not, I think they are still sprouting nonsense.” Muttered the first scientist.

Another eerie silence envelops them. Until one of them throws a card at the center. “The tacet marks have been spreading nonstop...”

They throw another. “TD's are also unstable, giving a major interference to the once-natural resonance cords.”

And when he throws the last trump card, almost all of the players had a grim look on their face. “We are merely just a few months recovering from the Retroact Rain. Our soldiers cannot handle another catastrophe!!”

With a trembling shout from the scientist, everyone else near the group stopped on their tracks. Noticing that the attention was on him, the poor scientist slides back to his chair, embarrassed. Even the ones he was playing with had a gloomy face.

“...Not to diminish our pride but...who knows...what happens to Jinzhou...not to mention our Sentinel and Magistrate...”

“That's understandable. The evidences speak for themselves.”

All eyes are on the man who spoke after a long while. Between the dim lights of the Academy's hall and his slow steps, his versicolored eyes glimmers brightly than ever.

“I understand your concerns, Ray,” Xiangli Yao reaches out to pat the forlorn scientist by his shoulder, “We are merely at the recovery stage for Jinzhou, yet our nation has been going through too many things already.”

Amethyst eyes wander among the resonance cords on the screen. They catch a familiar face of a person, one that made his own heart skip a beat.

“However, Jinzhou still stands until today. We cannot say the exact date for the end of the world—it could be today, tomorrow, or another millennium—but as long as we are still here to see the flowers blooming or the children laughing, then why should we stop today?”

A roar of cheers erupts throughout the hall. The lamenting scientist sniffles in joy. Yet the Principal Investigator couldn't look away from the certain figure of a girl.

“But if the world were to end soon,” muttered a nearby scientist, causing Xiangli Yao to glance at him, “Hmm...I wonder where I'll go.”

Without a clear future in mind, and you, the Rover, who only woke up just now—the thought is scary. If, indeed, the world was ending soon, then what happens next? What happens to you?

The cats have been meowing nonstop.

As if sensing the air, they were pawing at your ankles, as if trying to catch your attention. One, two, three- maybe even five- cats trying to catch your attention.

Picking the white one, who was the one visibly stressed, you coo her as you scratched the back of her ear.

“What's wrong, hm?” You playfully kissed the cat's cheek, “Was the food not enough for you? If I overfeed you, Mr. Investigator will have to put you on another diet.”

Somehow understanding you, the cat gently pushes you off of their face with their paws, meowing.

“Hey, I'm telling the truth! As much as it hurts my poor heart, I can't feed you again today...”

“...I suppose you can allow them,” pipped a familiar voice, “They do look awfully thin.”

Nearly spilling the cat off of your arms, you squeak as you turn to meet a smiling Xiangli Yao. “M-Mr. Investigator?!”

“It's the first time you've addressed me by my title, Ms. Rover,” He teases, opting to carry the black cat on your feet, “I suppose our relationship is back to being professional?”

“The cats seem to know you more like that,” you emphasized, “Mr. Principal Investigator.”

He laughs—a tender laugh, it makes your heart squeeze—that it makes you pout. “I suppose that is right. Consider it a working place, then.”

Xiangli Yao stands next to you, holding out the black cat as it meows. With a funny thought, you ask, “Did you even know why they approached you in the first place?”

“Is it because I feed them?”

“No,” You playfully stuck out your tongue at him, “They say it's because it's to ward off bad spirits.”

Xiangli Yao goes silent, before looking at the cat, then back to you. “Hmm. I suppose I should stay away from you?”

Ultimately backfired. The joke goes back to you. With a dramatic gasp, you shrug. “Seeing as the cats was the one who approached me today, I think it's you who should go away for now.”

Freely laughing onto the summer air, the cats' meows intertwine with the yours. It's like any other workday— Xiangli Yao leaves mid-afternoon from work to meet and feed the cats, walking elsewhere until he's comfortable enough to go and finish his work.

It's only been a few weeks since a new addition to his itinerary: you. Now, every afternoon, the cats would find themselves carried by the warm sunlight; and you, taking care of them before him, drenched in sunset glow.

Like now, Xiangli Yao notes. But the thoughts were far too tempting. He takes a dive in them.

“So, Mr. Investigator,” you asked as you found yourselves by the stalls, nudging him softly, “where to next?”

The cats slowly left as soon as your walks stretched farther than usual. You were too nice to disturb Xiangli Yao, when he was far too absorbed in his thoughts.

“...Ah,” He purses his lips, slowly stopping in his steps, “I'm sorry, Rover. I hadn't realized we've gone this far.”

The streets decorated with the loud and bursting stalls sound in the background. Yet in the midst of it all, Xiangli Yao is silent as ever, his robotic hand over his lips, eyebrows furrowed. You think it's cute, from the curve of his pout, but you quickly shake it off.

“No worries at all. But you look like you have a lot on your mind, maybe you want to share them?”

Xiangli Yao looks at you. Behind you, the sun in Jinzhou has never set—bathing you in its reverberating halo, casting an ethereal glow. With his heart skipping a beat, he looks away with a sigh.

“...[Y/N],” every syllable of your name sounds too foreign for him, yet too holy, “Would you...like to come and stay with me for now?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Where do you want to go, Xiangli?”

His face remains serious as he speaks. “My house.”

“...I'm sorry?”

Going to Xiangli Yao's house was something you've never expected.

Sure, you often get invitations to visit your friends' houses once in a while. But it seems different when someone like Xiangli Yao asks you to go home with me.

Wait. With a mental slap, you scold yourself. Why do you feel different when it's with Xiangli Yao? Was there something about him? Watching unfocused amethyst eyes seems to make you worry. You were definitely not feeling something, right?

Unless?

“Is there anything else you'd like?” Xiangli Yao pops up from his kitchen, carrying a plate full of snacks in one arm and drinks in another, “I'm sorry, these are some of the food I could make.”

“It's okay, I'm more than happy to already taste what you make!” You said as you rush to help him.

But as you are about to take the plates, you couldn't help but gasp.

“Oh, does my hand scare you?”

Instead of the usual robotic hand you've grown accustomed to, it had morphed into a larger metal plate, to fit the two plates.

“No!” You shake your head with a laugh, “It's just the first time I've seen it like this. Does it change back?”

By the time the plates are on the table, Xiangli Yao twists his robotic hand (plate?), popping it out of the socket. “It does. Let me get it.”

“Do you...” Watching him scurry, you pick up a chip from the plate, “...need a hand?”

A resounding clang! echoes back to you. It takes a while before he returns to the room, rolling his hand as he grins. “I believe it's back in its proper place.”

Still the same stupid jokes that make you cackle. Eventually, you both settle down. The afternoon telenovela plays on the TV. Finally settled to sit on the ground instead of the chair, you end up picking the savory chips, munching as you devotedly watch the scenes in front of you. You don't even bat an eye even as you feel Xiangli Yao sits next to you. Silence. But a good kind.

How long have you known Xiangli Yao again? Whatever you both do, you're still content with each other's company. From the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze firmly on the TV, empty hands hair's breadth away.

“The Moonlit Fair,” you said slowly after a comfortable silence, “now that it's over, are you back to your usual work?”

He hums. “Depends how you define "usual work".”

“Metalwork and other groundbreaking discoveries.”

You bring your knees close to your face, resting your head so you could comfortably turn to see Xiangli Yao's face. Chromatic colors paint the neutral look on his face. Yet when he turns, a pretty smile replaces it.

“The field of science is only a curiosity away,” he pipes, mimicking your pose, “That's always something I've been doing, even before the start of the Moonlit Fair.”

This goody-two-shoes prodigy has always been the talk of the town. Even in Huaxu Academy, even from Mortefi's mouth, he is long lauded as someone who easily creates breakthroughs.

“I'm jealous.” You admit, sighing, “You can easily create new things.”

“That's not true.”

“Ah, I guess I can say with pride that I often help people, too.”

“However you may say it, it doesn't erase the fact that you are doing so much more than you think.” He said, “You're the mysterious Rover. You have lost memories related to this city. And from what I've heard, you hold so much history.”

He reaches out, human hand hesitating to touch your face. With a fleeting downcast gaze, he ends up booping your cheek. It makes you flinch from surprise.

“...I should be the one jealous of you, if that's the case, [Y/N].” His smile causes his eyes to close, a genuine look on his face, “You've done many incredible things that are worthy rather than simple praises.”

Did Xiangli Yao ever look this pretty before? Soft skin and amethyst irises through fluttering lashes. You wish you could brush away the hair that covers his eyes. Carefree, kissable lips. Wait—you cough, looking awau to hide the blush tinting your cheeks.

“Please, stop flattering me. I might end up bursting a hole in your roof.”

“I'll be sure to let Xiang-LEE and Patty fix that.”

A ticklish giggle escapes your lips as you turn back to see him. “Please leave my kids alone, you have overworked them during the festival.”

“...Please don't worry,” he shrugs, chuckling, “They'll be granted a paid vacation anyways.”

Seeing as the telenovela has lost its charm, and the poor food in front of you could go to waste, and maybe not wanting to end the fun yet, you decide to test your waters.

“Xiangli,” you said, noticing how he perked his head at the mention of his name, “I want to play a game.”

“An electronic one again?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Truth or Dare.”

Xiangli Yao laughs. “Oh, I didn't know you were into childish games like that.”

“I'm curious about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way.” You point out, “What's a better way than to play a game?”

“You could have asked and I wouldn't mind answering, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sit up straight, grinning, “Truth or Dare?”

Xiangli Yao mirrors you. “Already?”

“Pick already, or I might change my mind.”

“Hmm...Dare.”

Suppose your afternoon would be so different. A few chugs of the drinks, greedy hoarding of chips, spent markers, and random doodles later, you find yourself dressed in one of his lab coats with a clip of some of his IDs, and him in the flashiest shirt. The laughter has long strained your lips but it still ends up being the sweetest you've ever tasted. Apart from that, the glow in Xiangli Yao's face is also different, one that makes your heart skip faster.

“You've what?”

Xiangli Yao laughs a little too loudly. “A mini mouse that would greet anyone who opens the door. Mortefi was the first victim, because I didn't know he was deathly afraid of mice.”

The mental image of Mortefi from Xiangli Yao's prank comes abruptly that it causes you to match the latter's laughter—hollering until your back finds the sofa, slapping the carpet.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, “It's not even a surprise why he hates you even more!”

Xiangli Yao wipes a tear from his eye, sparkly eyeshadow slightly staining his cheeks, “I bought him some coffee to apologize, but the joke hadn't died down for weeks.”

He finds himself sitting closely with you now, head against the sofa. With a little of your mingling laughter in the air, he couldn't help but watch as your fits of laughter continued, albeit a little softer. Through your literal rose-colored lenses, did you see the world like that, too?

“It's my turn now, right?” You ask, your shoulders an aftershock from your laughter.

“Mm,” he nods, “Have you run out already?”

“No, never!”

“Alright, since I've been picking dares for a while. I'll go with truth.”

“Have you ever heard of the rumors?” You begin, laughter dying down, as you take a bite from the chip. “That the world is "ending soon"?”

Xiangli Yao freezes. So you've heard. It's no surprise as it already made a turmoil between the scientists in Huaxu Academy. Yet the dread somehow comes creeping back to him.

“If, theoretically, the world were to end today,” you slowly speak, carefully choosing the words, “In a few hours or so. What would you do?”

What would he do? A tricky question. But a calid one at that. “The end of the world wouldn't happen so abruptly.”

“Mm, yeah, but I am curious about your answer.”

What would Xiangli Yao do? And somehow, the dimming living room feels so small, the only light source was a forgotten TV color palette. When he looks at you, your doe eyes sparkle in the darkness. The closeness of your bodies, the fleeting smell of spring on your shoulder, with a hint of him.

“Well...” He slides down to the floor, patting the space beside him, “I'll let you know if you lay here with me.”

“Are you sure there are no pranks here?”

“I'm honest.”

You eventually follow his words, so you could meet the level of his eyes. Watching the glow of his inspiration-filled eyes, they somehow make you smile.

“I heard all about it when my colleagues were playing a game during break time.” Xiangli Yao begins, “Some claim it's not true, but there have been others who believe it's so soon.”

“What do you think?”

He looks away, opting to stare at the ceiling above. You follow his sight, unaware of what was next.

“I don't know.” He says truthfully, robotic hand pointing upward, “With everything that has happened, no one else can predict it.”

“Even a knowledgeable scientist like you?”

He glances at you. “Even a knowledgeable scientist like me.”

He looks back to where his hand points. Casting a power, a small purple cube dances in his robotic hand, knowing that you were watching so intently.

“But if the world were to end today, then I wouldn't mind spending the day with the cats I feed.”

The cube glows brightly, floating so freely in his hand. A flash of scenes play through its squares, too fast to see, yet too slow to be noticed.

“I wouldn't mind having the TV on, sitting on the floor with snacks all over, even though there's a perfectly good sofa.”

He hears your small laugh, which makes him smile. The cube falls to his chest, where it travels all the way to you.

“I wouldn't mind spending the last hours playing Truth or Dare, with someone who's extraordinary.”

This time, Xiangli Yao looks at you. Wide-eyed and speechless, from the way the cube touches your outstretched hand, watching the faint glow of the halo on your own body. If the world were to end, he wouldn't get tired of watching this view; watching the rise and fall of your chest as you stare in awe, calloused hands tenderly watching over his own work of art, knowing that there'll never be another you if the world were to end.

Knowing that he's long been blessed to exist in the world where you are in it.

“I think I wouldn't mind spending the last hours on Solaris-3 with you, [Y/N].”

The cube pops, a sprinkle of glitter all over your body. Glancing, your heart throbs loudly in your chest, as you heard his confession.

How did this happen again? You were merely friends with the scientist. After the successful Moonlit Fair, you often find yourself bumping into him, simple errands and impromptu hang outs when you do. Watching Xiangli Yao in his humble abode, the telenovela a white noise, and the shade of colors lighting his face—have you ever seen him more than a friend?

“Xiangli Yao,” you breathe, which made him freeze, “you...”

He smiles. “I'm not rushing to know your answer. I am merely stating the facts.”

A good friend. But now you figured out why that rubs you off the wrong way. You have always known the answer to your feelings.

“[Y/N],” Even the way Xiangli Yao speaks your name, a softer one, where in the world they called you "Rover", he calls you differently.

“[Y/N],” Reaching out, his human hand finds a strand of your hair, gently pulling it to his lips. “[Y/N],”

Xiangli Yao calls your name, one that makes you throb.

“If, theoretically,” he repeats the question you asked before, “the world does end today, what will you do?”

In a world where your memories are lost in the ripples of time and reverberation. You had the same answer.

“...I wouldn't mind spending it with a certain scientist.” You smile, watching him mirror yours, “I wouldn't mind spending it with you, Xiangli Yao.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Xiangli,” you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he closes his eyes to snuggle to the warmth, “Xiangli, you're like the cats.”

“Then will you ever mind if I could hold on to you?”

Weary arms find themselves asking for yours. And like you, touch-starved for his own touch, lean onto him, the smell of spring and that you could forget the world.

“...I would,” you said, and you do mean it, “I'll hold onto you, Xiangli.”

Oh god pls let me have him irl too

don't forget to like, comment, share, and reblog!!

— starry

#wuthering waves #wuthering waves xiangli yao #xiangli yao #xiangli yao x reader #wuwa xiangli yao #wuwa #wuthering waves imagines

190 notes · View notes

mournings-stars · 9 months ago

Text

doubt comes in

happy valentines day, here's my apology in advance for the angst. this is heavily based on the story of orpheus and eurydice specifically in the musical hadestown (my fav) with inspo from the lyrics so a lot of this is written with the intention to rhyme and be in a hadestown-esque song.. I probably wont write like this often, but i hope y'all like it there's one mention of pronouns (she/her) with lilith since i basically swapped the reader for orpheus and luci for eurydice but other than that i don't think there's much to indicate this is a fem!reader but this is an angel!reader if anyone would like a precursor with fluff, i'll compensate yall for the dramatic greek angst

part 2 (prelude) part 3 (prelude pt. 2) part 4 (prelude pt. 3) part 5/finale (semi-alt ending)

It was a long way down; winding, golden steps in a narrow hall that you didn’t know the depth of until you reached the bottom. Your legs ached with each step, and your wings fought not to fly the rest of the way. You could see it in the distance when you reached the ground, the red heat of the pride ring, and the home you were headed to.

It hadn’t been long since Lucifer fell, maybe a few months since he and his love were banished to the darkness he created with the worst of humankind, but you were given a blessing.

Sera, the oldest of the angels, allowed you to go down to Hell to retrieve him. There was a catch, however, one that made you wary as you now neared his home.

You could only retrieve Lucifer. He had to leave his love, and you had to trust that he would follow you. You had to lead the way back up the golden staircase she created for you, all the way to the very top where the golden gates you knew so well waited for you. Lucifer had to walk behind you without a sound; he couldn’t assure you that he was there. You just had to trust one another. To follow, and not to check.

You couldn’t turn around.

Finally, you reached his home, knocking on the door and waiting patiently before it was opened. “It’s you…” You knew his voice well, the sound of it making your heart swell as you wrapped your arms around him.

He was quick to return the embrace, the ache in your legs vanishing for a moment in his arms. “It’s me.” He sighed, hugging you tighter and shutting his eyes with his head on your chest. He could hear the drumming of your heart, and he knew if he held you long enough he’d be back in Heaven when he opened his eyes.

But he had to let go.

“How are you here?” He asked a question and it was like a melody, clear as day and symphonic as the winds that flowed beside you as you descended that steep staircase down to Hell. He stepped back, hands lingering until you stepped away.

“Sera allowed me to come down,” you said. “She said I could bring you back — that you could leave this place…” You looked around, shifting uncomfortably in the unnatural heat before you turned back to him with a gentle smile. “Come home with me.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a trick. She’s never liked me—“

“No!” You grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at you. “It’s a trial — or a second chance at one.”

It had taken you days to get down. You hadn’t seen Lucifer in months. A few days without looking back at him would be nothing if that meant an eternity back home.

He squeezed your hands, looking down at them and suddenly feeling that it might just be possible. “How?”

“It took a while,” you said quietly. “She didn’t want to listen, but I knew you had the best intentions. I convinced her, and she’s letting you come home.”

“She’s letting me try.” He looked down, dropping your hands and frowning at the ground. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to follow me—“

“I can do that,” he said quickly.

“And you can’t touch me, or speak to me. You just have to trust that I’ll get us there and that I won’t look back—“

He cut you off with a dry laugh. “Just?” He laughed harder. “We both know how this will go.”

“I trust you to follow me. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” His hands went to your face, holding gently. You moved out of his grip, feeling the coolness of the band on his left hand. “We were always close; I trust you, I just… don’t trust her—“

“You should go, Lu,” a voice came from behind him, and the woman you recognized from Eden stood there. Her hair, long and blonde, flowed behind her in non-existent winds. Her smile made you understand why he fell — why he would for her. “Go home with her.”

It was decided then. Just one encouraging push from his love and he was prepared to leave. He looked back at her, giving a smile that made you look away as you turned.

As they said their goodbyes, you waited quietly, kicking at the ground absentmindedly until Lucifer put a hand on your shoulder. “Ready?” You nodded. “Alright.”

“We can walk together until we reach the stairs… Then, from there, we’re on our own.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he assured. “I’ll make sure you get back home.”

You frowned at his wording, taking his hand. “We’ll both go home.”

He nodded, correcting himself and squeezing your hand, “I’ll make sure we both get home.”

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

The walk was quiet before it had to be, doubt already coming in and making its way between you. What would happen when you reached the stairs? Would he follow behind you? Who were you to think he would, when his love had to stay in a place like this?

“How bad was it?” Lucifer asked you. “Are you sure you want to go now?” You nodded. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I can rest when we’re home.” You gave him a smile that made him do the same. “You want to go back, don’t you?”

He had his doubts. He doubted that he could. He doubted he could make it all that way. He hadn’t seen you in months, and all he wanted was to talk to you — all he could do was touch you — but there was silence now. Didn’t that mean it’d be easy not to speak? Not to touch you… After all this time. After he found someone to love—

“Sera said if we make it, she’ll listen to you,” you tried, hoping he’d respond. He hadn’t even realized he didn’t answer you. “Maybe we can bring Lilith up soon.”

“I’d like that.”

The smile you gave him made him reach out his hand, the look on your face forced and sorrowful as you walked ahead of him. He wanted to take your hand for comfort — to both of you — but how was he supposed to go days without it if he couldn’t fight a simple urge now?

“We’re here…” You stopped some time later, silence blanketing the two of you a long time ago.

But now it was for a different reason.

Great golden steps stood before you, spiraling high up into thick clouds that shielded the true height of the stairs.

But even from here they looked endless.

“We can’t fly, can we?” Lucifer asked, half joking.

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” You laughed, but it died out quickly. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can turn back now…” You swallowed your pride. “Go home to her… It’ll be days of walking, and going back up is much harder than coming down.”

He took a moment to understand what you were telling him, but surely told you, “If you were down here, I’d come to find you, too.” That brought a smile to your face. There was another pause before he asked, “would you follow me?”

You nodded. “Anywhere.” Even here.

He smiled, taking your hand like he wanted to before. “Then show the way.”

You squeezed his hand before turning to the stairs and letting go, savoring that last touch until you could do it again; back home. You took a deep breath before taking the first step.

Immediately, a marble wall surrounded the staircase, and you could only imagine that the steps were shielded, a wall blocking off the first stair as you started to go back up.

You couldn’t hear a thing, not even your own footsteps as you climbed step after step.

Lucifer, on the other hand, could hear your footsteps echoing; one after the other, each of your steps right after the other, and sounding like the dull pounding of a drum. He couldn’t tell if it was comforting or foreboding, but he listened anyway. This was how he’d make it through, he decided. To the steady sounds of drumming.

But you were struggling. Coming down and back up so soon had made you tired already, but doubt weighing you down didn't help any. You let out a breath before beginning to hum as a way to ground yourself to these hellish stairs.

It was a song both of you knew well; there were no words or swells to make you know what came next, just an endless melody that the winds would sing as they carried the seasons through the Earth. Long before Lucifer went to see the world, this was how you knew it. Through the songs nature sang.

But now he knew the world much better than you did. He didn’t need this song anymore. You doubted he even remembered it,

but no, he was humming along, hoping you could hear that he remembered your song. He remembered how beautiful it was, and how when you sang it, the entirety of Heaven could feel your warmth — your love. It was why you were given the task to change the seasons, your song persuading nature into the most beautiful summers and captivating winters. But what else could he expect from an angel of Virtue? Could he expect that the love that he felt all throughout Heaven would ever be for him? How could he expect anything from you?

Pride does not deserve Humility.

And doubt comes in; he thought about turning back, letting you go alone, but even when he stopped for just a moment you kept walking. You trusted him to follow you, and as you hummed the song of nature, he felt that same love that he used to. The same warmth that was now pushing him up the endless stairs after you. The same winds that made him want to reach out and touch you, just to remind you that he was there. Just to see you look back at him.

But he knew what you were doing, using your gift of song to bring nature into this empty place so it could push you to keep going. You hoped the winds would push you up, but they weren’t strong enough.

You weren’t strong enough for this.

The song stopped after a while, but you continued to climb, up, and up, and further up to no avail. If it hadn’t been that there was only one path, you would’ve questioned whether or not you were going the right way.

It was harder going back.

But there was hope; a faint, golden light that led you back home. A faint, golden light that told you you were so close. A faint, golden light that made you want to turn, smile at him, and say, “we’re almost home,” but you stopped yourself and kept going.

You were much further than almost, but you were getting there. And this light pulled you to keep. Going.

You didn’t care for the exhaustion, or the pain, you didn’t think about the hunger, or the thirst. You kept in mind that you would sleep, rest, eat, and drink when you made it home with him.

When he made it home with you. He would worry about how tired you must’ve been. He would worry how much pain you were in — and he would worry about his own once he made it home with you. But he saw how you faltered, hand on the wall to keep yourself going, and he knew he couldn’t make it much longer like this.

But you trusted him, he had to try.

And doubt comes in.

He doubted how much longer he could take this. He doubted how much longer he could watch you fade into exhaustion and pain without doing anything about it.

He doubted that Sera didn’t expect this to happen.

He doubted, and doubted, until you were finally there. Until you were almost sure he hadn’t followed you. Until your legs gave out on the final step and you felt him rush to keep you from falling. You felt his hands keeping you up and his wings bringing you onto the pale clouds of your home.

And you turned back.

But he was happy that you did. He gave you that same smile he gave her and his hands held your face gently. You reached up to grip his wrists as your eyes pooled. Regret; regret for doubting, regret for tiring, for failing. For turning back. “Why would you?” You asked and it was like a broken melody. Clear as summer rain with no symphony to push away the doubt that just kept coming in.

And he spoke to you. He broke every rule.

“I couldn’t let you fall,” he said, and you knew how he meant it. You knew he never trusted Sera. She knew he’d fail. So did he. But not you. You were the fool that made him put his trust in you.

And now you knew he had to go. And he knew he could never return.

He tilted your head down, wings fluttering and lifting him off the clouds. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head and said, “Visit again if you can.”

417 notes · View notes

forgeofthenine · 10 months ago

Note

Here with another polite request and more compliments to your writing. I turned on post notifs so that I can read everything as soon as you post it. Thank you for feeding us so well with the tieflings content.

How would the tiefling bachelors react to you telling them you love them for the first time?

Thank you so much for the support Maira! It's honestly such a huge compliment to hear people have notifs on for my posts. This was a very cute prompt to write so I went a bit short and sweet with it (and even a bit silly in Dammon and Rolans parts). I hope you enjoy!

The bachelors when you say you love them for the first time

Dammon

Dammon is so happy when you say you love him for the first time

He's definitely the type to happily say 'I love you' first without expectations of you saying it back

But when you do reciprocate he just beams

The grin on his face is so wide and handsome, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiles

Gathers you up in his arms and gives you a little spin

Absolutely covers your face in kisses while telling you that he loves you in infernal

Dammon is absolutely glowing for days too, spends so much time thinking and daydreaming about it

So much so the others around him will call the poor blacksmith out

Cue Rolans snark about Dammon having more than just steel on his mind

He doesn't mind the distraction though, if anything he embraces it

It's just so exciting to know you feel so strongly about him

Dammon lives for hearing you say you love him, whether it's the first time or the hundredth

Zevlor

I think you might've broken him, honestly

His reaction is so cute, the wide eyes, how he stops whatever movement he might've been making

The blush that depends the red on his cheeks until he looks like a cherry-

Zevlor doesn't respond at first because he's honestly surprised you feel the same way for him as he does you

He realises he's handsome and can be charming when the need arises, but he never dreamed someone like you would feel so strongly for him

Absolutely wants to kiss you, might even do it before saying he loves you back

Might end up murmuring it against your lips before going in for a second kiss

Zevlors so flustered and sweet, wanting to reciprocate but feeling so out of practice

It's a huge self esteem boost for him though and you can tell with the way he carries himself just a little more pride

Another one that never tires of hearing you say those three words, they're all Zevlor needs to make his day perfect

Rolan

Rolan is a confident man, some would say overly so

He never really runs out of things to say

Until you tell him those three words that make his mouth go drier than a desert in shock

The wizards loved you for months now, maybe since he first met you, but to hear that you love him too?

He's like Karlach where he just responds by near shouting 'I love you, too' back, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain catches up

It's genuinely embarrassing for him for a moment, until you pull him in for a kiss

Now he's suddenly a lot less worried about what he just said and how he said it

Despite his wonderful memory, Rolan craves hearing you say it more and more

He positively preens every time you say it and the sight of his pleased smile is honestly to handsome to bear

The only time he'll be less pleased is when you happen to let it slip around Cal and Lia

The two of you will never escape the kissy noises that follow or chants of the two of you 'sitting in a tree', but even the ever exasperated Rolan wouldn't have it any other way

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader

555 notes · View notes

shwaesar · 3 months ago

Text

More Caesar x Reader HCs

Still SFW but gets suggestive near the end (I'm working up to it ok I'm nervous)

You give him so many conflicting emotions and he never quite manages to come to peace with them. But he comes to peace with not coming to peace with them, if that makes sense.

He knows what he is and takes unapologetic pride in it. He's an ape. A creature forged by nature and nurture, a wild animal at his core, regardless of intelligence. Nothing can change that about him, and that's fine. He doesn't particularly want to change it.

But to love a human being feels almost like a rejection of all that. An ape can't love a human the way another human can. A human can't love an ape the way another ape can. So in a sense, you're both having to redefine your very selves just to try and make it work. To give each other what you want and need, while also adhering to your own wants and needs.

It takes a lot of time and patience to figure it all out, but you get there eventually. Or at least as close to there as you can get.

That thought still lingers in the back of his mind that he's not human enough for you, but on the rare occasion he lets those thoughts known, you're always quick to reassure him that you don't love a human. You love an ape.

'Love' is admittedly used in a nuanced way between the two of you. Love for humans means one thing, love for apes means another. But for you and Caesar, love means to choose one another, despite your many differences.

Maurice is honestly a life saver to have helping you both, educating you about ape romance and reassuring Caesar that his efforts in human romance are-..... well, it's the thought that counts.

He has no idea what he's doing but every now and then he'll pull something off that really cements his devotion to you. After all, he doesn't love an ape. He loves a human.

Flowers end up being his go-to gift, at least when he can get his hands on some. The forest is full of them if you know where to look, and he'll painstakingly pick the 'best' and bind the stems with twine before delivering them to you.

And you keep them in an old soda can filled with water, and about once every few weeks you'll have new ones to decorate your living space with, and Caesar can tell how happy it makes you so he keeps doing it and its honestly precious.

Gift-giving turns out to be a courtship ritual humans and apes have in common! But here's the thing-for humans, gifts are about sentimentality. For apes, they're about practicality.

Every now and then Caesar will bring you an 'ape' gift between more 'human' ones.

Once you've started eating more with the community and he doesn't have to bring you designated meals anymore, he starts surprising you with full on carcasses when he returns from a hunt. A testament to his ability to provide for you, at least in his mind.

They get progressively bigger too. Starts with a few hares. Then a boar. Then a stag.

He delivers you a fucking bear he found hibernating in the winter months, and you get a brilliant fur pelt out of it. Being able to keep you warm makes him swell with pride like nothing else, even if you can't help but feel a little bad for the bear.

You also receive a stone dagger after it's clear their usual weapons are too big and heavy for you. It's carved a bit clumsily, but the edge is sharp and there's a patch of rabbit skin wrapped around the handle to make gripping more comfortable. He feels a lot more confident in your ability to protect yourself once you have it, and seeing you use it is another thing that's makes his chest puff out proudly, because he has made sure you're safe, even when he's not around.

Of coarse, most of the time he is around.

And oh boy, when danger comes he is ready. Doesn't matter if it's a wild animal, another ape, another human- he will fuck a bitch up if they pose a threat to you.

The first time it happens is honestly a little scary. You run into a boar while foraging and it does not look happy, and neither does Caesar.

Blocks off your body with his own, fur standing on end, snarling and hooting aggressively at the creature to try and scare it off. His mind is racing with primal instinct the entire time- he has to protect his mate, has to be ready to go for the kill if it charges at you, he can't let his human get hurt-

It's also the first time you get a good look at his chompers, his lips pulled back to show them off in warning, and it suddenly strikes you how easily those teeth could be used against your own delicate flesh if he so desired, how effortlessly he could maul you, bite your fingers off one by one, rip out your throat-

Let's face it though, it definitely awakens something in you.

When the encounters over he has a nasty cut on his thigh from its tusks, and you get him home to treat the wound as quickly as possible. He's apologising the whole time for loosing his usual self control, for potentially frightening you. But then you tell him it suits him, and lord have mercy, once he processes it, you've awakened something in him too.

But that's a conversation for another post uwu

FOREHEAD KISSES

EXPECT THEM OFTEN

Even before anything's official, it's a gesture of trust and familiarity between the two of you. But when you're his mate, the romantic side of it is delved into more deeply.

Cupping each other's faces to hold the position of your temples touching, intense eye contact, deep breaths. It's a kind of intimacy that really burrows deep into you. Without words, he's able to tell you; I'm here. I've got you.

Human kisses are a bit trickier. He's familiar with the concept, he's seen humans kiss, but ape mouths are a lot bigger than ours and have a lot of different things to work around in order to really kiss something.

He's content to just receive them initially. Your lips are so soft and warm and feel so wonderful pressing against the corner of his own, or to his cheek, or to his open palm. Getting such a human form of affection from you carries almost a level of sanctity for him. Only you have ever kissed him. Only you will ever kiss him.

He'll take it to his grave, but he practices on the back of his hand sometimes so he can eventually return the favour.

Until then, the closest you get is him pressing his closed muzzle to your skin and just... inhaling your scent,

He tells you humans have a distinct smell, but individual humans have their own, more specific smell. When you ask what yours is like, he admittedly has to take a moment to think about it.

"You smell.... like home."

Sweet, right? WRONG. He just doesn't want to admit that he's been subtly making you smell more like him. Gotta make sure his territory is clearly his, after all.

AND SPEAKING OF MARKING TERRITORY

Biting.

He doesnt dare try it at first, too aware of the risks. Human skin is much too thin and sensitive for him to indulge in such a a way, no, he just can't bring himself to potentially do you serious harm, regardless of how badly he wants to.

You'd have to be the one to initiate a conversation about it. You can tell he's restraining himself here and there, from the low growls that slip out when he's embracing you, and with how his tongue drags across his canines, it's not hard to tell what he's holding back in regards to.

So you ask him to bite you. If it's a request, he won't worry that you're just trying to appease him.

He'd still cautious, mind you.

"Are you... sure?"

He says it while all but salivating, eyes dilated as he subconsciously scans your body for a good place.

"Don't want.... to hurt you. It will hurt. You... know that."

With just a little more insistence, he all but pounces at the opportunity.

Apes bite each other affectionately quite a bit, little nips here and there, harder ones usually reserved between mates. It holds meaning for them, displaying trust in the other person. You trusting him like that? He's never been more in love with you than he is in that moment.

He goes for the space between your neck and shoulder, carefully avoiding any major arteries. You feel his breath there first, as he does his usual snuffing and growling.

Then his teeth sink into you. Slowly, his broad tongue pressing into the flesh between them.

And the sound you make-

He pulls back abruptly, releasing you with a hoot of distress and grasping your upper arms to look over the mark left behind. Panic jolts through every fibre of his being, he thinks he seriously fucked up. Apes don't vocalise like that-it must be in pain, yes-you're in too much pain-he should never have-....

....

Oh.

....

Oh.

#planet of the apes x reader #caesar pota #pota #caesar x reader #caesar x human reader #hcs

163 notes · View notes

yourlittlebunnyy · 2 months ago

Text

snow - azriel x reader

main masterlist azriel masterlist

kallias version

summary: Lover, wife, mate. Until he loses you.

warnings: death, happy but not very happy ending;)

w/c: 3.5k

a/n: this fic is fully inspired by "snow" by maxence fermine.

enjoy!

That evening, over a glass of good wine given to him by his uncle Rhysand, and with his other half, your son said, “I don't even remember what she looked like in the face.” And he laughed chasing away the negativity of the situation.

It was true. He no longer remembered your face. But you remember - no, you observe - his from the day you left. He didn't have you beside him, but you were always there, revelling in his victories and grieving over his sorrows.

That night you visited him in his sleep. He did not recognize you.

“My son.” You greeted him. You were on a flowery meadow. He reciprocated, but showed no signs of affection. You were little more than a stranger to him.

You shared blood. You had carried him for ten months. You had nurtured and changed him for two years. But to him, you were nothing.

“My father never told me anything about you.” He said it as if to justify his distance.

But you understand it, you always understand.

You were as close to your child as you were to Azriel, your beloved. You understood and accepted and respected his grief. You understood and accepted and respected being gone from the world all of a sudden. Your memory kept alive only by your mate, quietly and intimately. And you were fine with that.

“Would you like to know?” You asked him at that point. Your arms quivered for contact. Your son nodded.

And so, your story began.

“I would never have seen the light if my love for him had not been there to enlighten me. And he would never have seen it if it were not for me.” The Fae snorted a laugh, interrupting you.

“That's impossible.”

“Why do you say that?” You questioned.

“I know my father. A female would never be able to reduce him like that. He is a warrior.” Hurt, you shifted your gaze to the lush field in front of you.

“Then you don't know your father as well as you think, honey. That's all right, it's a long story. It would have bored you anyway.”

“No.” He begged, surprising you and himself. “Please, tell.”

“Our story goes back centuries. We were about your age.” You took a deep breath, and dove into the memories. “It all began magically. One winter day, while returning from the battle against Hybern, he fell in love with me. I was very different from the kind of females he was used to. At that time he was the Spy Master of the Night Court. He had participated in a very violent war that had ended in a brilliant, beautiful and unpredictable victory. So that he came back as a victor. Triumphant but wounded. A soldier had injured his best friend, your uncle, Cassian. Killed Amren. Then Rhysand. He had been wounded, too. In the wings. When he returned he still had the senses of that scene: the taste of blood and mud everywhere in his mouth, the memory of hatred painted in Hybern's face, the near-death experience. But it was the age of honor. Those were the joys of war. One had to die or return wounded to be considered victorious.

However, your father never forgot that battle. He could never forget the sight of his family one step away from defeat, from death. It was the most horrible thing he had ever experienced in his entire life. And believe me, honey, your father saw a lot of things. When he returned, he fainted on his bed. His family took him for dead and he lay on that bed for three days, still soiled with the marks of war. It was your aunt, Feyre, who found him, since she was worried about him.

He settled down, but for several days he was shaken. There was still fear in his eyes. Rhysand thanked him for his help, and Azriel was proud, but his pride still remained clouded by sorrow for what he had experienced. Finally, having recovered his energy, he came to a conclusion. He did not want to fight anymore, and not so much because of the wound that had been inflicted on him - he had suffered far worse during his life - but out of sheer disgust with war. He, who had spent his entire life killing, realized that he no longer had any desire to kill.

He therefore left the Wind House and set out on the streets of my beloved Velaris. And it was there, on his walk, that the miracle took place.

Crippled by the cold, at the end of his strength, with the horror of war still in his eyes, alone in the thick of the darkness and the tragedy he had just experienced, alone in the abyss of winter, alone with the vertigo of his loneliness, alone in his silence, where he should have died a hundred times of cold, hunger, fatigue, disappointment and exhaustion, he survived. He survived because what he saw that day, that thing, that extraordinary thing that also came from the other side of reality, no doubt to compensate the horror, that sublime and beautiful thing was the most sublime and beautiful image he had ever been allowed to see in his entire life. That image was me. And he could no longer forget me.

What he saw was me, at the time a young female, balancing on a rope. I felt as light as a bird, felt as graceful as a squirrel as I performed above the silvery river of Velaris. I was sixty feet above the ground. More than walking the wire I was floating in the air as if by magic. I was gliding faintly in the blue up there, standing on my invisible wire, the barbell in my hands. I could have been mistaken for an angel.

Your father slowly approached the river, and my beauty captivated him. He then told me that it was the first time he had seen a female from another Continent in Velaris. I seemed to fly, so, intrigued he advanced again. I was now perfectly above him. A dense crowd had gathered on the shore to witness my strange apparition. He approached an old man and, not taking his eyes off me, asked him who I was. I do not know exactly what he answered him, but from that moment he never stopped looking for me.

I was a funambulist, and my life followed only one line. Straight.

I was from Vallahan, a place far away. They called me Snow. I was nicknamed so because I had skin of glass, eyes of ice, and hair of gold. When I darted through the air I looked as light as a snowflake.

This is how I had begun. One day, while I was still a child, my path had crossed that of a traveling circus. Stunned, I had discovered the possibility of daydreaming. Heedless of the dangers, I had decided to make it my business. I had started with a tightrope stretched a few inches off the ground. Then, little by little, I had gone higher and higher in both height and mastery of my art. And so I became one of the first female funambulists. Up on the tightrope, I never came down again.

I became one for the love of balance. I, whose life unfolded like a twisty thread, excelled in the subtle and treacherous art of doing evolutions on a tightrope. I never felt as comfortable as when I walked on a wire a thousand feet above the ground. Straight ahead of me. Without ever deviating a single millimeter off course. It was my destiny. To advance step by step. From one end of life to the other.

My feats had conquered all of Velaris. By the age of twenty, I had already traveled more than a hundred kilometers on my tightrope, often risking my life. I had stretched my wire between two tall buildings in the Rainbow and balanced several hours above the city, I was like a swan made of wind, snow and silence. Then I had repeated my feats at every place in the Court of Night, each time defying the laws of balance.

I was no mere funambulist. I was proceeding through the air as if by magic. Looking at me so far up there, my body standing upright in the sky like a white flame and my golden hair caressed by the wind, I would have been told that I belonged to heaven. Because for me actually the hardest thing was not keeping myself balanced, or even mastering my fear, much less walking that endless tightrope. The hardest thing was not to turn into a snowflake.

By now I was being claimed in every corner of the Court. I even went to the Court of Nightmares. Then, almost without realizing it, I got as far as the Illyrian Steppes, where your father was ecstatic to watch me. Never before had an artist performed before the Illyrian. And Azriel looked at me and already loved me. In his eyes I was no mere funambulist. I was Snow, and I represented all the beauty of art. When I had finished my performance with the tightrope, and returned to the ground, he could not restrain the urge to approach me. He stepped forward and, in doing so, discovered the fineness of my features, the design of my mouth, the line of my eyebrows, and knew instantly that he could never forget my face. He looked into my eyes, and in turn I squared him. No words were spoken, and that was all we needed. I smiled at him, and in that he lost his soul. He knelt before me and said, “I have been looking for you, mate.”

I, on the other hand, was looking for no one. But his gesture seemed to me of such beauty that I delighted in it. And I accepted the bond. We got married, even. The first years passed happily. A happy event solidified our bond: you. You possessed my features, but your father's strength, darling. Our life was one of peace and silence. Gradually I was settling more and more into this Court. Sometimes I felt homesick for Vallahan, but I never complained about it.

What I missed most of all was my job as a funambulist. One night I dreamed of flying again. The next day, waking up, I thought about the dream again. Then I thought no more about it. The cold weather came. Then spring again. You developed in the ecstasy of light. I was happy. In one hand I held your father's heart and in the other my own, which at the same time I offered to you. And that fragile balance served to keep me balanced on the edge of happiness. But one day that balance became so fragile that it broke. One day the affection you offered me was no longer enough to make me happy. I cruelly missed the life in the air. I thirsted again for vertigo, for thrills, for conquest. I thought only of becoming a funambulist again. I asked Azriel to arrange one last performance. I wanted to stretch a rope from mountain to mountain in the heart of the Steppes.

Surely your father esteemed my desire as foolish, deeming it senseless to endanger my life and the life...of your sister.

But, like a true male, he bowed before me and consented. He had two steel ropes come from the Court of the Day. Then he sent two helpers to secure the longest cable between the two highest peaks.

I slipped the barbell out of my old case, put on my ballerina shoes, and practiced for hours in the garden, passing small mountains of flowers and a pond where yellow water lilies floated. Azriel, on the other hand, never tired of watching me. I was a funambulist without any rival.

On that thread I was happy, free and grateful. I thanked the Mother every day for giving me your father. I had blond hair. I had clear eyes. And I was walking on air.

The performance we stared at for the first few days of summer, my belly barely prominent. A crowd gathered from all over the Court to witness my feats. Lucien and Elain, who at the time had just become High Lords, also came.

When I placed my feet on the cable, the crowd rumbled. Up there, I was so high that those who only looked at me felt dizzy; I looked like a white dot in space, a snowflake in the immensity of the sky.

Armed with my barbell, for more than half an hour I performed high above the ground, slowly approaching the opposite side of the mountain. Below, they were holding their breath. One false step and it was certain death. But I, perfectly mastering my art, advanced inexorably. Step by step. Blow after blow. Silence after silence. From vertigo to vertigo. And your father watched as I danced caressed by his shadows in contrast to my white skin, silently praying for me, for his daughter. For your sister. I never stumbled.

It was the wire that broke. Definitely poorly secured, the cable came off the rock and plunged me into a thousand-foot drop. Me, the barbell and my unborn daughter.

Those who saw me disappear there, in the heart of the Steppes, took me for a bird falling from the sky. And my body was never found again.

I, Snow, became snow and sleep in its whiteness.

Your father never recovered from the loss of me, his mate. He killed the two clumsy helpers with cruelty, hatred and the thirst for revenge commanded his movements. Your uncle allowed him to do so without punishing him. But Azriel felt neither joy nor pity in the act. Killing them would not bring me back to life. He saw only one thing: his own grief. He knew only one thing: that never again would he find the woman he had loved. Never again would he see his Snow again. Never again would he see my beauty again.

Back in our house, now devoid of any joy, he threw away the Illyrian sword with which he had killed the two males. He would never kill again in his life, he promised himself. He would throw himself into pain. In the face of our daughter who died that day with me, in which my own face was reflected, he would weep every tear in his body. There was only one last gift left, one last thing that held him to the world of the living: you.

He sank so deep into his grief that he went blind. Your father accepted it, you know. It doesn't really bother him, he is no longer a warrior. He thinks the Mother no longer saw any sense in keeping his sight, if he wouldn't see me anyway.

I have always been close to him. I have always been close to you, my son. As much as my condition allows me to be.

I have never been given a final farewell. In your house my name is like a curse: it is never spoken and disaster should it be done. Therefore, I have come here, in a dream to you, for one last request. I want to be buried with your father. Come to me.” And you showed him where all that time you were hiding.

“Why didn't you say that before?”

“Because your father would not have been able to go on, seeing my face every day.”

As you spoke, you looked lost in the void, your eyes still veiled by the breath of the dream. The story had been long and paplit. Coming back to reality was difficult. Your son merely smiled and nodded at you, his own eyes wet with tears.

The next day he went to Azriel, who was relaxing by the silver river. He asked him to close his eyes and imagine the whiteness.

“I know where your Snow is.”

At these words, Azriel's face froze. Still with his dead gaze turned toward the river, he said, “Who are you to know this? No one knows where she is. The mountain swallowed her up. A long time ago.”

“That's false. The mountain digested her and returned her body. She is there, under the ice, a meter from the surface. She is there, in a glass coffin, intact and as beautiful as when you met her. In her womb she still holds the fruit of your love. I swear to you that I know where she is. She showed it to me in a dream. If you wish, I can lead you to her.”

Azriel understood that your son was telling the truth, and he could not hold back a tear. “I knew that one day we would meet again. But I did not expect that day to come so late in my life.” He turned to the younger Fae and laid a hand on his shoulder. “And to say that since she died ... since she died I've been looking everywhere for her. I've been looking for her everywhere. In every corner of this Court. In every corner of my mind. In every, single, dream. And now that I can finally see her, I will not see her.”

The next day, after the usual practice, your son asked your mate, “Have you thought about my proposal? When do you want me to take you there?”

Azriel sighed, then replied in a sad voice, “My son. This trip would be useless. I know you speak the truth, but what good would it do for an old blind man to find the grave of a dead lady? Wherever she is, my mate is at peace. May her isolation be respected for eternity.”

“No, father. She told me. Her last request was to be found. To be buried with you.” Azriel disappeared into his garden, leaving his son to be crushed by the weight of his own words.

A month passed. Your son and husband no longer spoke of you. They did not even dare to mention it. Every day, the younger Fae went to Azriel to keep him company, but in the end the two always ended up in oppressive silence. It was as if you were invisible.

But then one morning, standing on the edge of the river in Velaris, Azriel said to your son, “Tomorrow we will visit your mother.” Both of them did not answer, they just smiled.

They left at dawn. Your son guided Azriel with the sound of his footsteps. Every time he offered him a hand to help him over some steeper or treacherous passage, and your husband refused it and punctually overcame the obstacle without the need for help. He may have forgotten that he had been a warrior, but his muscles had not.

At night they slept in the villages. When, upon entering a village, Azriel uttered his name and declared where he was from, the doors opened before him as if by magic. The entire Night Court seemed to know his old reputation. Your son was astonished.

And he understood how fortunate he had been to be able to follow the teaching of such a father.

The journey was long, of unceasing whiteness. White as the cherry blossoms. White like the silence that accompanied the two wayfarers.

Finally, one morning, the first mountain peaks appeared. Their road began to climb toward the sky and its purity. They were the hardest hours. Your beloved began to show signs of fatigue, but your son pretended not to, since they were no longer very far from you. Azriel found the strength to go on only because of you. The journey was coming to an end.

When your son glimpsed the place shown to him in his dream, he trembled with excitement. “Dad!” He shouted. “I found it!” The young man rushed under a rock where, in your dream, you showed yourself lying. He had a cry of surprise.

“What is it?” Azriel asked, trepidatiously. “Has Snow disappeared forever? Has there been an avalanche?”

“No.” He said then. “Far from it. She is different from how she showed herself to me. Snow is here, but her body is closer. It is two or three centimeters from the veil of ice. I can almost touch it. It's as if she has prepared for our arrival.”

You were there. You, creature so beautiful, so naked, so blond, as fragile as in the dream. You were dead. Yet you seemed alive. You were resting under the ice. And soon you would emerge from your grave.

You were not really naked. Your funambulist's dress had been so long under the ice that the weave of the fabric had become almost transparent. And your body so delicate and your skin so diaphanous seemed even more fragile. So transparent were you that your son could glimpse your sweet pregnant womb. He threw himself on all fours and scratched at the ice with his nails. Finally you were there.

Your son grabbed Azriel's hand and placed it on your face. And you, watching the scene crouching beside the two males, could almost feel your mate's gentle caress on your skin. You breathed in that touch.

“Can you feel her face? Do you feel her skin?” Azriel's hand stroked your cheek again. He was blind. But he did not need his eyes to recognize the lines of your face. And yours was so well preserved that a simple touch with his fingertips on your lips turned blue was all he needed.

“It really is her. She is my Snow. You have never lied to me.” He fell to his knees before you and wept hot tears warming your face. He could neither see nor feel you, yet you laid a hand on his shoulder. You could not feel him under your fingers. But you were fine with that. It was okay even just that. Just seeing him.

Azriel never descended from the mountain. He lay down on the ice beside you and closed his eyes.

Your son tried to talk him out of it by saying it was madness, that it was too cold to stay there. But your mate answered him in a serene voice, “Leave me alone. I have found my place. For eternity.”

He fell asleep beside your intact body, one hand resting on your womb.

He died letting the whiteness of the world overcome him. He was happy. At the height of your heart.

#azriel x reader #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader #pro azriel

146 notes · View notes

nightfoxqueen · 5 months ago

Text

Art by @maeko-kun

Spring was in full bloom in Rhodolite, birds sang and the people were going about their normal busy day. The kingdom was at a peace between countries and trades seemed to flourish. On this day however the 7th Prince of Rhodolite found himself relaxing on the sofa near a window, the sunshine coming through wrapping itself around him. In his arms he held a small pink bundle with the most beautiful baby girl he'd ever seen. He was gazing down at her with the most proud look on his face, his smile peaceful and his one finger was being held by the tiny hand of that little girl. He never seemed so happy. Fatherhood certainly wasn't something that had ever crossed his mind before, and he wasn't expecting it would ever make him this happy nor at peace.

When his fiancee, had told him the news that he was going to be father he began to sink into darkness. What if it would be twins? He remembered how his past flooded his mind. How much the Royal Court hated that twins had been born. How horribly they had treated his mother and how his mother came to hate them. He remembered how much his mother constantly made Licht and him compete, so much that in the end, Licht chose to protect and save him over competing, killing their mother. His fiancee, and even Licht helped to remind him that until the baby was born there were no guarantees if it was twins and even if it would have been, the Royal Court would have to shut their mouths. It wasn't just them, Sariel also spoke words of reassurance. The palace devil may have been feared by many in the palace but he had watched the twins grow up. As such, he was always there to somehow help them, seeing one of them becoming a father he would be there for those moments too.

The spring breeze blew in through the window, gently making the curtains flutter in the breeze. As he gazed down at his daughter in his arms he recalled the moment the assistant of the midwife came and announced he had a healthy baby girl. It seemed like the world stopped, it was a shock and the whole palace went into a frenzy over the first girl born in about two centuries. He'd never forget that moment, the first time he held his daughter in his arms. The pride and joy he felt, the way everything seemed to stop. Taking in her hair, exactly as his and her eyes exactly like her mother's. He never felt he had anything really worth living or fighting for. Up until he met his fiancee, he was frivolous and had no regards to his own life.

That changed even more now that he had his daughter. He held her gently, and has he looked at her with the softest expression; he knew he'd do everything and anything for his little girl. He'll give her whatever she wanted, protect her and most importantly he knew he'd be wrapped around her little finger. It had been about 4 months since she'd been born and when he wasn't busy with his duties you could always find him in that same place holding his little girl in arms. As the birds tweeted and sang their chirpy songs, the little princess began babbling in his arms. "Hnn, do you hear the birds singing Eirian?" She cooed and babbled more, her little smile lighting up her face. Nokto smiled looking down at her, as the door opened his fiancee walked in. She melted slightly, the sight of Nokto holding their daughter was the most beautiful sight she saw each day.

"Looks like momma has come to kidnap you. Papa has to go to a negotiation meeting with Keith, Silvio and Gilbert." He gave a slight huff. She giggled as he stood up and gently handed over Eirian. "You make it sound like she's only your baby." He chuckled, putting on his vest and then his long coat. "She might be ours, but she's my little girl." Sophie smiled as she held Eirian in her arms walking to the window to let them both feel the beautiful spring breeze. Flower petals gently fluttered in and around them both. Nokto walked up to them both kissing his fiancee before gently kissing Eirian on her little forehead. She babbled more taking her tiny hand and grabbed his shirt, he gently removed her little hand only for it to wrap around his one finger. "Papa will be back. I have to go." Eirian's little face dropped, about to cry.

"No, no Eirian. No crying, I'll be back soon." Sophie smiled, gently bouncing the baby to calm her. "You know, one day you should take her with you. I heard Gilbert loves kids and I bet you'd get away with more if you distract Silvio." He laughed a little. "Perhaps one day but for now, I want her in the safety of her mother's arms." He kissed her little hand still holding his finger and before long the gentle bouncing calmed her, making her slowly fall asleep. Sophie gently took her tiny hand away from his finger holding it with her own. Knowing she was calm and asleep he quietly snuck out the door only to hear her begin her cries before closing it. Sophie sighed and started to gently hum with no avail of her stopping. "You really do have her wrapped around your finger." She said knowing Nokto was there. He came back and walked up to her, taking Eirian back into his arms watching as she slowly calmed down. "Looks like you're coming with me after all. Geez I really have you spoiled don't I?" Sophie giggled "She's definitely papa's little girl." Nokto looked down at his little princess who was holding his finger once again. "We have to have a talk little missy. Your momma would like to keep you to herself too." Sophie laughed a little and gently stroked her daughter's cheek. "I had her for 9 months, she knows me enough. Now it's her time to attach to papa. " Nokto chuckled, "I suppose I am wrapped around her little finger." He smiled as he turned to leave. "We'll be back later momma." Sophie nodded and watched them leave. The 7th Prince, a once wild fox was now completely and utterly attached to his daughter, papa's little girl.

#ikemen prince #nokto klein #cybird #ikepri nokto #cybird ikemen #nokto ikemen prince #ikepri #*sighs*#so beautiful #i love this so much #thank you #perfect

190 notes · View notes