#dropping rhis here hi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iwaasfairy · 19 days ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ SORRY FOR THE WAIT

tw. yandere, blood/violence implied domestic violence, dubcon, amnesia, obsession, character death, pseudo-cest, overprotective Levi, praise kink, slight authority kink, creampie, marking, non-linear timeline

wordcount. 6.2k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by @amonsterinspring ♡ thank you A MILLION for commissioning mE !! I’ve never written Levi so I was a tiny bit apprehensive but I actually very much enjoyed him and I’m glad you wanted no regrets Levi because he’s so inch resting to meeeee !! So happy to be writing gross shit again <33 i hope you enjoy it !!! And Ofc so many big thanks to rhi and mel for beta-ing <33

levi ackerman x fem!reader

Headquarters’ up in too much outrage for it to be five in the morning, but evidently, things rarely are as they should be here. He barely manages to tie his shirt closed before Hange and Moblit show up behind him, walking down the stairs with a pace slightly too vigorous for an early morning. Damn long legs. Levi’s impatience boils over when neither says anything, or anything of use in four-eyes’ case, and he makes his way toward the courtyard with a tight grunt. “Yer awfully tight-lipped considering.”

Hange nods. “I’m not sure what to say, is all. I could explain…” Her normally talkative hands are set on her hips as she pauses, and once again Levi feels his irritation spiking.

“But? Get to the point, Hange.”

She’s got a look on her face that gives absolutely nothing away.

“It’ll be easier for you to see for yourself, squad commander.” Moblit dutifully finishes, pointing the way through the dusty open area to the long hall. It’s mostly higher ups that walk around the place, some ducking their gaze to avoid his. His glare is instinctive. The lack of swords at his hips leaves his hands settling slightly uncomfortably at his belt instead as he walks, following behind the longer steps of his companions until they finally land at the door.

Expecting, Hange turns to look at him. “Questioning hasn’t lead far, you see. But don’t worry, we handled the situation gently! We all just figured- it might make things easier to bring you here instead of trying to force a break though when… well- you know.”

His eyebrows pull together without any further effort, and his already thin patience this early in the day glides onto it’s last legs. “What the hell are you talking about?” Rambling nonsense as always. He finds his hands moving before he’s able to call upon his patience.

He pushes the door open to the small office, takes in the bookshelves, the desk, pristine— before his stormy gaze falls onto the broad-shouldered blond hunched over. Or more, the figure he’s squatted overhead while Levi walks in. “Erwin? What the fuck are you playing- at.”

A soft, wheezed breath catches him off guard, only spying flashes of the mud-crusted feet, bruised, knobbly knees. He takes a breath, watches Erwin move aside to reveal the scene. Levi suddenly stops halfway when his stomach rolls, and there’s a dull moment where his heart starts to beat between his ears. Loud, hammering his eardrums, it almost has him tumbling over his own feet.

The face lets out a slight smile when watery eyes trail his way- and immediately spill over into thick beads that drip down the long stretch of exposed neck. A faint voice meets his lips like he’s tasting it, and the air in the room goes electric. “L- Levi nii!”

It’s you. Bruised eye and a bit older, but there’s no mistaking that face. The crybaby, wobbly lip, those long, wet lashes. His own breath escapes him for just a moment, only to see you crawl hands and knees towards him as much as the cuffs will allow you.

Hange nods out of the corners of his eyes. “That’s all she’s been able to repeat since we found her. A face you recognise?”

His hands manage to unclench from his belt only to drop aimlessly by his thighs. His eyes can’t move from your shape, a heavy, familiar feeling settling in his chest. You’re actually here. He’s looking you in the face, that same open, accepting gaze that got him the first time.

You found him.

You are asking for him.

Your eyes are blurry from the cold, breaths coming out in puffs in front of your face. You’re stumbling more than walking, as your feet scrape, as they cut open on the thorns that litter the grounds along with the wet leaves— snow touching your face as it falls, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

It’s so cold, you’re so cold and your limbs feel stoned and useless, as you drag yourself on towards the sound of water. Your throat aches, so does your stomach.

You try to remember the place you came from and walk on and on, if only to get a little further away from the threat of violence by strangers. The world’s so barren. Your breaths cloud before you, blurring your vision more. Puff, puff, puff— and you stumble. By landing onto your hands and knees, you scrape both hard in the process, only barely saving yourself from connecting your face with the dirt, and the lack of sleep, of a safe place to curl up and hide away all have your bottom lip wobbling like crazy.

Almost childishly, you just wish a prince on a white horse would come to sweep you away from here. It hurts. The soles of your feet, your face, the swollen area around your eye and brow and your stomach too, going empty for about a day now. You think. Your hands have landed on snow that doesn’t stick long, but it makes it almost impossible to get up and continue. You don’t even remember where you came from, let alone where you were going.

There’s a nice, cloudy gap in your memory where anything of purpose is supposed to sit. You don’t remember your name. Matted hair sticks to your face, and your clothes no longer serve as anything other than another layer to keep the cold, and wet slicked nicely to your body until you freeze to death. The river sounds close, but also still so far away.

Snow falls, and you cast your eyes up through the trees, frozen lashes, cold lips. “Help me,” you croak out, to no one. To yourself. It doesn’t make sense why you push on, but your body moves robotically up from the floor as if controlled by strings, only to stumble over your own feet every few steps. You might not remember anything else, but for some reason— against all logic, you do remember one thing. A name.

It’s the tiny, flickering flame that pushes you on and on as your vision blurs, as energy seeps out of you with each step, with each breath straining against the weight of your own ribs. A flame that becomes more and more faint as you reach pebbles, a slight opening in the trees where snow does stick.

You’re tired, and you want to go home. You want to curl up into a ball and die. Your eyelids flutter shut as you fall still, trying everything to keep upright.

A rhythmic sound approaching. Horses. “Help me,” you squeak. You think you do, if your voice even makes it out of you.

Some noise comes closer, but before you can see it through, your body gives out and you land onto the snowy ground with a thump— knocking you out cold.

“She’s obviously not dangerous, Erwin,” Levi presses fingers to his temple. The crowded room is doing absolutely nothing to relieve the migraine that’s been steadily building since this morning. The meeting room’s filled with people buzzing around like a bunch of insects.

Erwin stands from his desk. “As soon as we’re finished, I can have Miche escort her to a nice room-”

“No. I don’t want anyone else,” Levi bites out, “bringing her anywhere without me around.” His head aches, teeth gritting. His bitching and moaning won’t sway the commander, but still. Miche’s still perched against the windowsill, heavy eyes scanning him.

It’s been years— the guilt of that fact sits heavy on his lungs.

Despite the order otherwise, he marches past and out the door. “I’m taking her to my room. Discussion, over.”

“Captain Levi!” Nifa calls after him, but a sturdy arm stops her in her path with only a tired sigh. The tall form squares his shoulders as Hange takes a seat in one of the chairs across him. He looks tenser than normal.

“And?”

Her glasses are pushed higher on her nose. “She’s no titan, if that’s what you’re worried about. My best guess is amnesia of some kind. I couldn’t say how she got it, though.” After a few seconds, she glances at Moblit. “Say, it isn’t just me, right? Her and Levi totally had something going on, right?”

“Sit down. Right there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His hand sits low on your back as he guides you into the slightly damp room. Small windows are fogged up high on the wall. Your arms are wrapped uncomfortably around yourself along with the dry jacket over your wet shoulders, and you trepidatiously walk into the tiled room, barefoot. Levi sighs behind you, voice clearing. “Go on.” It feels like it’s a familiar sound, and you follow the order. It’s been a few weeks, but you have still yet to connect the name to the face.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t exactly the short, head-strong noiret before you. Or rather, you hoped it would’ve sparked something.

You sit at the edge of the baths with a pout and the steam of the filled tub sticks to your lashes. You only manage to strip yourself of Levi’s jacket with his prompting. His hands aren’t soft, but the motion is gentle when sliding the fabric off of you, watching your clammy form unfold as he strips you of the drenched shirt, starts helping you out of the pants. You whisper a slight ‘thank you’ under your breath, because any more right now would take more energy than you have left to expel.

He looks up from where he’s kneeled beside you almost too close, thin brows furrowing as he looks up. “I told you, you’re not supposed to leave unless I’m right on your heel. In any situation. Not only that, but you just about chose the worst weather to make your little break, too.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.’ It makes him frown, nose scrunching, when he has to pull hard to get the pants over your ankles and scratches up feet, dirty and ice cold.

“You’ll be sick by tomorrow.” He’s probably not wrong. The ashy grey eyes flick up at you with -what you guess must be concern- as they shimmer almost brilliantly. It looks a bit strange on his hard, angular face.

You wouldn’t know if it is out of place. He looks cold on the outside. Harsh features, calloused hands, scars wherever you look. You don’t remember what brought you here, or what type of relationship you had. Levi’s care for you so far tells you you two were close, and they’ve told you that you kept saying him name over and over again. You feel like you should trust him. It sucks that you can’t. For some reason, something takes on your breath when you sit still too long.

“I got scared,” you slowly admit, picking at your nails. Like you had to run, run far away. The room they gave you a suffocatingly tight hug.

That’s how you ended up stumbling out of the courtyard towards the woods.

If he’s surprised by your confession, it doesn’t show on his face. He only continues to drop the wet clothes in a pile, then nods his face at the water. “Get in.” His hand takes yours to help you inside the bath, before slowly lacing his fingers with yours. It’s not so much the nakedness you have a problem with, as the lack of his own. Not the quiet you hate, as much as the fact that anyone could come into the communal bathroom when they want. But you don’t want to disappoint Levi by disobeying him twice in a night, so you sit.

Watch him chew on his words for a long time, before speaking. “Are you starting to remember anything yet?”

You suck your lips. “Not really. Not yet.” You remember flashes of Levi’s sharp eyes. Of friends, maybe family? A blond head of hair, a redhead. Sitting in the dark, sleeplessness taking you over. You remember your achy wrists, and you feel it even now, without the cuffs they slapped on you at first. You’re told Levi asked them away— and you’re thankful for that.

”Captain…”

Levi’s other hand wraps around your intertwined ones, and he closes his eyes. “I can’t believe any of this shit. You got taken away from me before— And now, all this…” His expression turns darker as he stares past you, almost as if looking at someone else. “They must’ve really done a number on you, if you don’t remember.” Frost washes over those steely eyes, and his mouth pulls into a thin line. “You promised to stay by my side. I know you never would’ve wanted to break your promise.”

But then he puts his hand on the back of your neck.

The hot steam travels up around you, as he sits beside the tub close enough he could wrap you up in a hug, looking at you like you’re an abandoned toy in need of fixing up. You blink wet lashes at him until he leans in, slots his warm mouth against yours, and his hair tickles your face. His lashes brush your cheeks, and his free hand comes to pet your cheek every so softly. “I’m here now,” his voice is low but as soft as you’ve ever heard him, as he rests his forehead against yours. “I won’t let you put yourself in danger again, okay?”

Your body’s still wound tight from earlier, but it’s only natural that you mellow out in the warmth. “Even if you never get your memories back, I’ll be here for you.” Against the cold of the coming winter, the way he brushes your hair feels so nice. It allows you to let Levi run his lips along your cheek to your jaw, short, puffed breaths against your skin as he pulls you close.

His plush lips linger over your heartbeat, and you swallow against the prey-like urge to scamper out of reach, to instead wrap your arms back around him. Droplets bleed into his shirt, but he doesn’t care one bit. His eyes flutter open and closed a few times as he pulls you into him more, leaning over the edge of the tub to kiss needy kisses all along your neck, to where your shoulder meets your throat.

You instinctively let out a gasp when he bites down, before laving the spot with his lips and tongue. “D’you like this? Does that feel good, baby?” His voice is almost soft, when those dark, blown out irises find you, and you’re letting out tense breaths against him. “Feel good?”

“Mhm.” It’s not hard to figure out what you two were before you got back here. His hand slips down your spine into the water to lift you up against him, pushing his hot lips against you again and again. You taste his tongue, taste his spit when you run your hands through his hair and pull slightly. Not too long ago, this must’ve tasted like love.

You pull back to bite your lip, feel a guilt come over you as you watch him. So hungry for you, it clearly bothers him to be even a few inches away from you.

“I’m sorry for not remembering,” you whisper. Your voice wants to fail you, but you refuse to let tears take over. That wouldn’t be fair to him. A brief pause, then you swallow, eyes fixing on him with a genuine curiosity. “Do you remember everything, Captain Levi?”

The dark itches his skin, takes on his breath. There’s a stench of ammonia, thick, pungent, it almost knocks him over. But that doesn’t matter much when his eyes slide over the dusty, trash-filled room for what he’s looking for. He kicks the bloodied face to the side, pulling his knife out from the pierced temple to wipe it on a handkerchief and pull up his nose. “Fuckin’ pig sty.”

It’s Jan who bothers to search through the dresser, pocketing a few stacks of money. “That’s about 300, Levi.” Not enough. He somehow doubts that anything they find will be enough to pay back the debt. One of the other men closes in on the safe, kneeling before it. Levi’s tight frown only digs deeper.

It wouldn’t take too much to break that open, so with the two of them, they start sliding it out of the spot under the makeshift register. “The rest’s probably in here.”

“Yeah.” He brushes his hair out of his face, ready to leave the brothel behind. It’s only an afterthought to slide open the door of the liquor pantry; kicking through the lock with impatience set on his face. The old wood gives way with a sad creak, and Levi pushes inside. There’s nothing of value, figures.

Only a small cage shoved in the corner, and his hands drop to his side.

“Levi?” Someone calls at his back.

A ghostly figure sits unmoving, crumpled into itself, metal dog collar around the neck— big, desperate eyes avoiding the light streaming into the indentation. Big, obvious blotches litter your skin top to bottom, lips swollen and cracked, your skin almost mannequin-like by the unwashed sheen. His stomach turns at the sight… but more than disgust, he’s taken aback by something else.

His breath stops in his throat for a few beats, as he stares at the pathetic rise and fall of your chest in that skimpy little outfit, pure white lace against the darkness. The pity of your situation is by far outweighed by the beauty of you, and the way his heart pounds in his chest.

He should feel worse. He should probably hate the feeling. The way you stare up at him like a kicked puppy. His mouth cracks open a sliver, slow breath in, slower breath out. If you had a tail, it would wag at the sight of him.

The way you’re looking up at your saviour makes him feel important.

The door thumps before bouncing back into the lock, and a breeze tingles your neck as you snuggle deeper into the blankets. It’s not much, but it’s more than you’ve gotten used to with your last owner. It’s more than enough to sleep comfortably, only hindered by the heavy metal chain that sits around your ankle. You’re not sure why he believes you’d go anywhere. A heavy body drops into the mattress meant for one. For a brief moment, your shoulders rise up to protect your face, spine tensing.

A brief moment that melts away in an instant when you’re confronted by ocean blue eyes in the dark, a soft smile sitting on his cheeks. “Sleepy?” the young man asks, not expecting much of a response before landing his palm on your head in a comforting sort of motion. It’s a drag more than a pat, and his thumb brushes almost patiently over your forehead from between your brows to your crown. A warmth you’ve never really experienced before. If you were sleepy, you no longer are.

Farlan’s a comforting presence that’s only gotten more important with each passing day. The windows to your room are usually leaned open, enough to stick a few fingers through, not your whole hand. It’s enough during the day to catch his eyes peeking up at you from the courtyard, and smiling back when you wave. A sad, guilty sort of smile.

Farlan smells like wood and musk and soap, and to you, it’s the closest you can get to being out there with them with the chain on your ankle.

You swallow, bite your lip. “Levi nii doesn’t like me, does he?”

His blond hair bounces as he rolls onto his side in the silence, and watches you with a strange sort of calculation in his eyes. His hand falls still on your crown, but you lean into the touch before he pulls back. The heat is just so nice. It builds in your cheeks, makes your eyes feel a little hazy, your face softer. Farlan chews on his tongue before speaking. “Why do you think that?”

It’s not so hard to tell. Everyone else is allowed outside. There’s people who come around every day, they carry boxes, work in the street, talk to each other whenever they want. It’s only you that’s kept inside this room— staring at them through the windows; and more than that, Levi always locks the door when they come around. You don’t blame him. You’re sure that if you were better, he wouldn’t have to. You can’t blame the person who saved your life for dealing with you in the way he knows how.

Instead of explaining all that you simply shake your foot, and the loud changing of the metal links fill the room.

Farlan’s eyebrows narrow, and not for the first time, a look of helplessness swipes over his features. “I’m pretty sure Levi aniiki… doesn’t dislike you. He doesn’t even let me in here, normally.”

He pulls the blankets back a bit, uncovering your shoulders from the plush, trails his eyes over the skin in the dark. A fingertip presses into a spot under your jaw that’s achy and bruised that’s only stopped hurting so bad this morning. Then he slides the touch down to the crook of your neck, taps onto another mark. “That Levi aniiki’s doing?”

They’re littered all over.

You don’t have to nod. His expression dims. “Do you even know what’s happening to you here? You don’t, do you.” The words come faster, lingering in the stuffy room. His face shifts, from knowledge, to worry. “Do you even like Levi like that?” Your face goes pouty, and you feel yourself wanting to tilt your head. Confused. A wordless question. Like what, your brain supplies, but maybe because you feel a bit stupid, you don’t speak it.

Maybe because of the closeness and the heat in your face and the warmth of his touch, his care, his attention— you can’t do anything but suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Farlan’s face is closer than it was, you’ve pushed yourself closer. The darkness of night no longer feels so dark when he’s here with you and your heart’s beating fast, really fast. It’s slamming rhythmically in the silence. He pulls his hand away as he smiles, but you reach out to grab it. “Do you like him?” He asks again.

Do you like Levi nii? Of course you do. If not for him you might’ve been left behind forever, stashed behind the walls like a dirty secret. It’s a given that you like him. You like that he sits with you and tells you you’re pretty and when he comes home for the night he lets you snuggle up on his chest and feel every bit of touch that you were missing during the day. When he’s nice he’s really nice, though he doesn’t like to say it in words. You’re similar in that way.

When he’s happy with you, you get spoiled. You like Levi. Farlan’s finger brushes over the tip of your nose when you bring it close to your face, soft, searching touch. It isn’t the same as Levi’s closeness though. When Farlan’s close, you feel entirely floaty, drifting on the breeze of the breaths you two share. Levi’s kind of like is grounded. The blond’s staring like he’s seeing every cell of you at once, and you find yourself saying something before you can think about it fully. “I like you.”

He smiles genuinely at that, taken aback. You two share the space in the bed that’s yours alone. You take up the space nudged into the crook of his neck, feel the breaths dust over your crown. You’re sure when your throat runs dry, and your lashes flutter against his skin.

After a few minutes of quiet, Farlan finally seems to breathe a full breath again. “Tell me. Do you want me to take you out of here?”

Your eyes flutter. A tense, slight frown comes to sit between your brows, and your lips jut into a pout.

“Here, be a good girl.” Your big eyes shift from the door back to him, when he kneads his hands that are settled on your tits, rubbing your pebbled nipples until you shift. A little from the touch, a little from your discomfort as you’re gyrating onto his body. You try to nod, he thinks, because your interrupted by a shiver when his mouth takes one of them inside to suck, and have you whimpering above him. Cute. Moldable.

Your hands move to his head to practically curl yourself around his head and trail your hands through his hair like you’re a kneading cat, and your motion shoves his face between your tits even more. It’s so fucking cute, perfect, as you squirm like you’re not sure what to do with yourself. He’s pretty sure that’s actually quite accurate. As you’re moaning and squeaking though, and he shifts to the other nipple to rub his tongue over it, you let out a soft whine. “Levi nii- it’s… I-embarrassing.”

He grunts into your embrace, one hand slipping around to get under your ass and reposition you onto him better, so that the heat of your pussy grinds against him through the thin scraps of fabric you’re dressed in. “It’s not embarrassing. You’re doing good.” His cock’s rock hard against you. Shouldn’t that be enough to tell you that? If you had any experience with any of this, it would.

“It is!” You pant, and your hips stop moving around like you’re halfway to crawling away, to unclamp yourself from his head, to lean back onto both arms and watch him through teary, drowsy eyes. “I keep making noises even though I don’t mean to, and everything feels weird- and- and I’m sticky, aniiki.” A brilliant blush sits on your face, from your nose to your ears, and it’s as hot as it is adorable, the way you’re writhing around a bit like an animal in heat. He doesn’t need to ask if it feels good, because it’s written on your face.

He goes back to playing with your tits a bit longer, because you’re so soft and warm and wrapped in his blankets, he just wants to eat you up. You sometimes ask him why he keeps you around. A ridiculous notion, as if he would even have the thought of not keeping you. You’re his woman. His, and his alone - it’s not up for debate. You just don’t know it yet, because of your lack of experience. Rough hands pinch at your nipples until you’re shoving at his shoulders and squirming away, underwear sticking to your wet pussy.

Your kicked-dog sort of expression is replaced with furrowed brows when you pant the next thing, glancing back at the door with a pout. “Aniiki~~ it’s embarrassing! Farlan nii’s gonna know.” His jaw clenches, and within a single blink he has you turned around. Pressed back into his bed under his pinning weight, his thin eyebrows furrowing despite himself. Your eyes go wide, suddenly apologetic.

He doesn’t hear you out. “It’s not. If I tell you it’s okay, then it’s okay.” The heat between your two bodies streams down, as he yanks one leg over his thigh to get in between your legs and starts drawing his long fingers along the edge of the seat of your panties. Soaked through, sticky. He brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean, and taste the pure, unchanged taste of you. “Stop bringing other people up. I’ve already told you that when we’re in here, you should only think about me. When you’re in my bed-”

“Levi nii is the boss. I know, I’m sorry.” You rap out quicker than he can continue, apologetically smoothing your hands over his chest. “I just… My body always feels weird when we do this.”

He holds the urge to let his face break out into a bit of a grin. How fucking cute can you be… instead he starts peeling off your panties and watch how you obediently move your legs together and up to make it easy, runs his hands up, up, up along your thighs, calves, over your feet. He licks his lips at the sight of you, can’t help it. You let him rock his hips against you, placing his hands both sides of your face, and lean in. “Give me a kiss, come on. If you give me a kiss, I won’t chain you up tomorrow.”

You used to be unable to. Too shy, too cautious, the marks left on you had taken a toll. But look at you now. Almost as if by instinct, you dutifully press your lips to his awaiting mouth, let him lean into your space and take you. It took some time, and you used to cry - but doesn’t this feel so good now. Aren’t you happy he treats you so well? You kiss him slow and deep, letting him open your lips and slip his tongue into your mouth, while his hands rub over your wet pussy.

You’re whining into it though at his touch, mumbling like a pathetic, little thing. “‘M sore, Levi nii~” You must be. Your pussy still slicks though, welcoming him, letting his fingers rub the overstimulated bud again. He wasn’t so nice this morning, or last night.

Your thick lashes flutter when you pull back with a pout, and watch him toy with your body.

“You’re glaring like you don’t want this.” He comments. You shake your head half-heartedly. In truth, it used to be like that. You used to kick and scream before you toned down. But you got there eventually, and now - you’re soft enough to let him do however he likes. You trust him enough to fill you up to the brim and let him spill hot cum inside you, without crying. You still move your body half into, half away from his touch— like you can’t decide if you want him to keep going, so he makes the choice for you. “Open up.”

You shiver under him but move your legs open further, as his fingers trail into the wetness to your clit. “So good, baby.” Soft circles make you scrunch your face up, and harder circles make your back lift from the mattress into a perfect arch that makes his cock twitch in his boxers. Boxers that get pushed down to reveal his weeping, flushed head, and pushing it along your lips with a hiss. “You know what I like to hear, come on. Say it.”

You flush, heat blooming on your cheeks again. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you look away in mock-decency. Drives him crazy. Makes him want to ruin you. “Th- thank you for r-rescuing me. I love… -I love when you play with me like this.”

”Yeah?” He lines his cock up with your slick lips and pushes inside, ignoring the resistance as he dives into your heat. “I know you do. I know you like doing- t-this. You’re a good, little pet for me. We’re close, aren’t we. There’s no one closer to you than I am.” He bottoms out into that perfect warmth only to pull back, wet, glistening, and dive back into you. Your eyes bulge a little, and your hands find his shoulders as your head falls back.

”Ah, ah- Aniiki. I- I’m still sore. It hurts.” You yelp softly when his body connects to yours, and your tits bounce because of the impact.

“Shhh, shh, I’ll make it feel good. Just a little more.” His rhythm moving the bed along with you, as you clamp your eyes shut and wrap your arms around him to hang on. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, of course. But you just feel so good. So inviting, diving into that clenching, warm embrace as his cock slides in and out of you, and slick gushes out along it. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. So good for Levi nii, aren’t you? You’re a good little hole for me.”

“Agh, Levi nii. Aniiki!” His declarations of love fall on deaf ears, because you’re hanging on like you’re on a cliff, whining and the pressure building inside you. Even after hundreds of times, you still look so woefully underprepared whenever he rubs just right against your pussy. Coarse hair and friction all make you look like you can explode any second now, and he thrives when looking at it. Could you not look so fucking pathetic all the time? It’s not his fault that you look so fucking hot like this, squirming on his cock, moaning, begging. “I’m full— I’m so full. Agh, Levi!”

He lets you have more, take more of his cock, harder, deeper. Your poor pussy squelches every time he bottoms out, and your body moves around on the mattress just enough to rub yourself against the thumb he’s pressing to your clit. “You’re so pretty like this, so fucking— good. Tell me you want it.”

Your back lifting from the bed, he can tell when your stomach starts clenching, and your legs wrap tighter around him. “Yes, yes, yes! Wan’it- agh, ah, ah! Levi.” His balls hit your ass every time he goes in and you feel so good, so soft— hotter than anyone should be.

“Tell me you love me. You don’t want anyone else.” You’re whining like you’re mindless, and pull him, scratch along his shoulder blades with a desperation for purchase. You can’t say it in words, but he knows it means ‘keep going, I’m close, I’m so close’. He knows it means ‘I love you.’ That’s why he pushes his mouth to yours again, that’s why he rocks his cock right into that spot that makes you go a bit cross eyed.

He’s doing this all for you. You mewl and suck his tongue and push your tits against him, let him fucking into you so deep you feel conjoined, and then even past that. It’s the heat and the pressure and the touch of you on him that’s making him grunt, his balls pull to his body. He fucks into you until he can’t possibly keep the rhythm anymore, and his shoulders pulls up into a squared position above you.

He pants, sweat rolling down his chest from the effort and the warmth. “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.” Kissing you doesn’t possibly feel deep enough, but god, you feel good. Heavenly. He’ll stay here with you if that’s what it takes. Nothing’s going to change that. “You’re not going anywhere. Ever.” His cock settles so deep inside you he can see it on your face, twisting between pain and pleasure, and you fall into your orgasm with a rough, desperate cry. Your walls constrict around him, and it’s enough to make him reach his high too.

Sliding in and out, in and out, as hot cum shoots into you and he presses his forehead to yours. “Fuck, fuck- I need you here.”

It’s too dark to make out much of anything, except the frantic energy in the whispers.

“Hurry, come on.”

Your cuffs jingle loud into the night, dragging your chain behind you. It wasn’t possible on your own, but another set of hands got it undone relatively easily, and now, it’s just the sound of your breaths into the night as you look behind you. The house gets smaller before it disappears from your view, and you pant out breaths into the cold night. “Farlan,“ you breathe out, not stopping, “what’s happening?”

Your arm is held steadily in his soft fingers, at a pace as quick as your weakened body will allow. He doesn’t speak until you’ve made it far, far beyond the line of houses that you could see from your window. More than you can remember seeing, ever. “Don’t worry, everything’s okay.”

The night is dark, but when you two finally stop moving, the path forward is even darker. A deep hole in the walls that seems to go up into infinity. You pull your arm away, and look at him, stomach turning. “Farlan…”

There’s no one around, lights are dimmed, and the whole place seems abandoned. All that’s left to notice is the air blowing past your neck, a draft that ruffles your hair. Farlan’s eyes are full of compassion. “I want to do the right thing.” For some reason, wetness wells up in your eyes as you watch him take you in wholly, and gently pull you into a hug. “If we go up here, we’ll get to the surface.”

He pushes a kiss to your temple, smiles bright like he always does. “You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” The breeze carries the fresh air into your lungs, and your toes are cold.

Farlan’s breaths go quiet as Hell unfolds itself. Instinctively, his hand is still wrapped around the gurgling wound pulsing blood, but his limbs have gone numb. And Levi’s blind anger has him wailing punch after punch, panting heavily before pulling the knife out. His hands drip blood, as the sun rises at the end of the staircase. It’s barely a white dot in an inky canvas, but the doubt does seep in. You wouldn’t have left him. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t.

He loves you, and you him. His only light in this fucking place. You’d never go on your own. You’ll be waiting for him to get you back.

#aot smut #levi smut #levi ackerman #attack on titan smut #levi dc #tw.yandere #tw.pseudocest #tw.dubcon #tw.dark content #tw.blood #levi ackerman smut #snk levi #snk smut #levi x reader #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.levi

523 notes · View notes

notwhelmedyet · 10 months ago

Text

A Fire Shall Be Woken, by Ealcynn. A pair of bindings using the K118 structure, one as a gift for the author and one to keep.

Chapter page illustrations are by Alphonse Mucha, all other illustrations are hand-drawn.

I hope to make a long post later explaining the process in more depth & another to document all my mistakes, but here's the basics.

New techniques learned: Paper marbling, edge marbling, uncial calligraphy, making paste papers, drawing on bookcloth, making paste-filled cloth, fold-out maps

I began work on this project in early September and am completing the finishing touches this week.

Structures:

Binding: K118 tightback

Endpapers: Simple cloth-joined endpapers

Map fold: Turkish map fold

Materials:

Sewing supports: linen tapes

Thread: 30/3 linen thread

Spine lining: Medium weight kozo tissue bonded to linen fabric

Interior paper: Hammermill Ivory, 11x17, hand-cut to 8.5x11

Endpapers: Blick sulphite paper hand-marbled, with masked stenciled silhouettes created with freezer paper

Adhesives: Jade PVA, wheat starch paste, wheat flour paste

Covers: Davey board, laminated full thickness to half thickness

Cover fabric: Studio E shot cottons in Jungle and Emerald; filled with wheat starch paste

Cover decorations: Speedball india ink and Dr. Ph. Martin's calligraphy ink in Copperplate Gold

Inks for maps and illustrations: Speedball black india ink and a selection of watercolors thickened with gum arabic

Dip pens used for calligraphy: Combination of Brause calligraphy nibs and Leonardt tape nibs

Dip pens used for illustration: Nikko G pointed pen nib

Typesetting:

Typesetting program: Scribus 1.5.5

Body font: Coelacanth in 10 pt caption weight

Headings, titles, chapter titles, drop caps: Hand lettered uncial calligraphy, scanned

Illustrations and References:

Frames on colophon, copyright, author's notes and title page: Hand drawn, with inspiration taken from the vellucent bindings of Cedric Chivers

Frames that illustrate each chapter start: Alphonse Mucha from Cloches de Noël et de Pâques

Cover illustrations: Referenced from a photograph of an European beech tree found on iNaturalist.org

Maps of Imladris: Hand drafted with inspiration from the maps of Barbara Strachey, and Daniel Reeve

Map of Eriador: Traced from a map by Karen Wynn Fonstad, with edits made to coordinate with the geography of the fic

Frames on maps: Referenced from a drawing by Alphonse Mucha that @zhalfirin found for me

Special Thank Yous:

To the tightback council of problem-solvers in the Renegade server: Zhalfirin, Eka, @spockandawe who helped figure out many issues with the structure and technique

To the marbling experts in the Renegade server: Marissa, Aether, AGlance, Jenny, Catz, Badgertide, Rhi, and everyone else who helped me figure out beginnner marbling

To Spock for finding the K118 structure and introducing it to the server!

And to Bruce Levy, who discovered the method and shared his discoveries freely with the bookbinding and conservation world.

#bookbinding #Fanbinding #mine #bookbinding adventures #thank you to everyone i consider this a group effort #it has been 10000 years and I have loved every step #except for sanding. nasty nasty sanding. ew.#fic recs

242 notes · View notes

ode2cheol · 1 year ago

Text

౨ৎ mansae

requested by @seuonji OMG NAII again congrats on 1k! idk if you’re still taking reqs but if you are i wanna request joshua+mansae by svt! i love YOU and your writings sm have a great day<3

AYAAAAAA THANK U SO MUCH BAE RHIS REQ WAS SO CUTE 😢 mansae is literally one of my favourite tt’s ever it’s so <33 i love u so so much and ur writings too like i read the jeonghan x daycare worker reader as a weekly routine atp hfhfhf

joshua x f!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, 0.7k words, part of 1k event

“shua” you said happily, taking the seat in the library next to him. when you sat you noticed the work and textbooks splayed out in front of him “what’re we working on here?”

“yn hey!” joshua said with a smile, already clearing space for you to join him more comfortably. “i was just finishing off that assignment we had for chem, it’s so tiring i’m starting to lose my mind i think” he laughed easily.

you looked at his work for a second and nodded at his words, you were still only halfway through yours. “i get you, i tried working on some of it last night and contemplated dropping out at least five times”

joshua smiled when you laughed, taking notice of the pretty ways your eyes crinkled in joy causing a warmth to creep up on his face.

for the next thirty minutes a steady atmosphere settled over the both of you, both focused on your work and occasionally asking the other for help.

joshua wouldn’t like to admit it but he looked over at you enough times to make it embarrassing and plain desperate.

“did you hear about that movie playing this weekend? apparently it’s super scary some people even passed out” you said with excitement lacing your tone.

truth be told, joshua couldn’t handle scary movies well. sure when he went to a haunted house or an escape room he could handle it but the movies were different. the way they make it just makes it overly eerie!

that would not hold him back if you asked him to go with you though.

“really? you .. go?” idiot, what the hell was that?

and joshua swears all the colour must’ve drowned from his face when you furrowed your brows in confusion, “huh?” you laughed off a little awkwardly.

joshua cleared his throat, “sorry, meant are you going to see the movie this weekend?”

he sighed in relief when you smiled at him, “i was hoping to, yeah. but i don’t really have anyone to go with..”

‘this is your chance. literally this is your chance. this is a free pass��

“we could go together..” joshua proposed, voice quiet and eyes searching yours for any signs.

“we as in- me, you and uh, jeonghan!” and joshua swears he can hear jeonghan in the distant telling seokmin that joshua’s an idiot. and jeonghan would not be lying at all.

“oh, uh yeah i guess that’d be great” you said, disappointment colouring your face.

‘why was this so hard?’ joshua thought as he looked at you. you’d already turned back to your work and bit back a pout wanting to settle on your lips. ‘why’s this so hard to get out? can’t someone else just do it for hi-’

“joshua, do i make you uncomfortable?” you shot up and asked him suddenly. “or like, do you just not like me like how you like the others? because you’re usually so.. honest with everyone else but with me it feels like you’re beating around the bush with your words sometimes”

“it’s not like it’s something i dislike!” you quickly reassured him when you saw how he looked like a kicked puppy, “it’s just, well it’s what i’ve noticed. and it only made me think i’m just maybe not as good a friend and maybe i’m just overthinking-”

“it seems different because i don’t want to be your friend” joshua cut off your rambling, “because i want to be your boyfriend”

“you what?” you looked at him a little out of breath and in disbelief that he just admitted that.

“i want to be your boyfriend, and obviously i’d talk differently to my friends than to someone i want to date” joshua moved his hand to hold your own, gently stroking the skin experimentally to leave space if you wanted an out but you didn’t and only grasped his hand tighter. “and i’d obviously be nicer to my girlfriend than my friend. no offence but you’d definitely get special privileges over jihoon”

you laughed lightly at his words, lips settling to a slightly teasing smile. “getting a little ahead of yourself, huh? i don’t remember you asking me to be your girlfriend, loverboy”

“not yet,” joshua smiled, “but i’ll ask you after i kiss you on our date this weekend, deal?”

#౨ৎ itadorins 1k event #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #joshua x y/n #hong joshua x reader #svt joshua x reader #joshua hong x reader #svt joshua #joshua hong imagines #joshua fluff #joshua imagines #joshua x reader #hong jisoo x reader

258 notes · View notes

changisworld · 7 months ago

Note

Okay. Hear me out. Shower with skz🥹

-🦇

BBCBCDNANANABABAJnn THIS IS A NEED, THANK THE HEAVENS THAT 🦇 IS REAL TO PUT RHIS IN OUR HEADS

main masterlist here

->I feel as if Seungmin, felix, hyunjin & maybe chan?? would shower with you just simply for fun, probably also half for convenience cuz saves time duh but if they get to see you naked who tf are they to pass on the opportunity???

-> wash your hair for you & especially seungmin probably begs for you to wash his hair back for him, even kneeling down if he has to just so you’re forced to do it(you were never not gonna do it for him he’s too cute to say no to)

-> I can imagine felix n also Seungmin complaining about how you alwyas have the shower on too hot for their liking…as if it’s meant to be THEIR SHOWER to begin with, you turn the knob that tiny bit higher just to watch them squeal hehehe

->DEFINITELY KISSES IN RHE SHOWEEEBEBEH they don’t miss the chance to ogle over you.. obviously… but more often than not, they don’t wanna do anything too crazy in the shower, simply because knowing them, especially hyunjin, would slip or chan would somehow drop a shampoo bottle at the worst moment n hit one of you guys in the foot just ruining the moment😭 they’d probably rather give you a reason to just get back in the shower straight after you both finish n end up in the bedroom, just to get sweaty again after their hard ons are just too much.

->ON THE ORHER HAND, LEEKNOW, HAN, JEONGIN N CHANGBIN ARE A DIFFERENT CASE.

->they know your own shower routine at this point n they always make sure to follow in not too long behind yiu(especially leeknow) & he tries to act so casual, just murmuring about how he just wants to shower but you ‘stole it’ just to end up having you pressed against the cold wall five minutes later

-> or jisung & also binnie whining at you because you aren’t instantly giving their boner any attention, because it’s ‘your fault you look this good all soapy’ & as they keep looking at you, bottom lip in a pout, they move their hips just enough to have their cock rubbing against your leg, making you fold not too long later(in more ways than one hehehe)

->INNIE IS THE WORST FOR SHOWERING ISTG!!! just teases you the entire time, sliding his fingers through your inner thighs as he helps you wash your body, purposely grazing his fingers through your folds ever-so-often, making you wince & him give you his pretty cheeky smile.

->as you turn your back to him to let him put the shampoo or conditioner in your hair, he is pushing on your upper back, urging you to bend over just a tinnyyy bit more. “cmon, it’s technically completely mess free because we will be getting rid of any cum or sweat as it comes!” he pouts, purposely leaving a pun in his sentence.

#remis anons<3 #skz headcanons #bangchan headcanons #headcanon #leeknow headcanons #changbin headcanons #hyunjin headcanons #felix headcanons #hanjisung headcanons #seungmin headcanons #jeongin headcanons #skz fluff #straykids hard thoughts #straykids #stray kids imagine

105 notes · View notes

justallihere · 8 months ago

Note

I squealed and smiled with joy when I saw the notification of update. Alli, thank you again for bringing so many of us so much joy and happiness. This fic has become an important part of my life. And I had not expected an update today! I dropped my phone on my face when I read the “I love you” confession, I was not expecting this in this chapter! But it makes total sense that x would get it out! There is nothing to hide anymore! I am happy he got it out immediately. Loved vi’s reaction as well. Our girl just needs safety. Everything was so soft, I melted- the shampooing,the cuddles, the tears.I wonder if Vi’s confession is going to be more dramatic and intense?(not a q for you, I am just thinking out loud 🤣) I am so so excited for it.

love Sloan so so much!

Garrick isn’t getting 2 mins from his king huh..our king is busy with his number one priority!

I absolutely loved Mira, rhi and Bren here as well.

Vi showing any feelings/care towards x absolutely melts my heart. X needs love too. He is traumatized too. Loved vi seeking x out for comfort multiple times- glances, cuddles, touches. Will there be more scenes like that? An unhinged vi for x?

so excited for the next chapters. Plz never stop writing 😭

Thank you so much! This fic and all of its readers mean the world to me 🫶🏻

I felt like the “I love you” made a lot of sense here. Xaden wouldn’t want Violet to be unnecessarily hurt by him just letting her think that she doesn’t mean anything to him. Plus he wouldn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of her in a way by her not realizing how much it meant to him to be able to hold her. Re: unhinged Violet there’s so far a tiny moment in the next chapter but I’m sure there will be more!

#storm in the quiet

24 notes · View notes

restlesscrybaby · 2 years ago

Note

Maybe Jack reacting to someone who really loves his body. Like the reader likes to rub his tummy and play with his hair?

THIS RHIS THIS I WAS JUST WROTING THIS THIR THIAISSSSSSS

AsceNDSS

~ JACK HORNER WITH SOMEONE WHO REALLY LOVES HIS BODY HEADCANONS. ~

~ 'Oh, your body, my love, it is so divine.' ~

☆ CONTENT WARNING : None. ☆

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

At first, he didn't know what he got himself into.

But it was something he never expected.

When you two got together, he didn't expect you to fall in love so quick, let alone at all, but he wasn't complaining. Don't worry.

One night, he was getting ready to shower. He had slipped on bunny slippers, probably poor bunnies he had killed, as he wrapped a simple towel around his waist. He was naked, as his belly muffin-topped over the towel. He opened his door, as you sat upon the bed. Simply watching the candlelight flicker in a dancing flame.

Your head turned when the bathroom door opened,

Oh. My.

God.

He held the towel with a large fist, as he shook his head around, getting the strands of light purple hair out of his face. He pointed behind him, into the bathroom, as he let out a grumble, telling you he was going to get a shower.

...

But, out of his surprise, you were suddenly up and leaned up against him.

...

"... What are you doing." He muttered, as a brow raised. His head tilted, with a confused expression being able to be read all over his face.

You placed a hand on his belly, as you looked up towards him. You smiled, a sweet smile,

A genuine smile?

".. I love you belly," You cooed out, as you rubbed it gently. "I like how big you are, it's so handsome. You're so perfect." You purred out, in a string of sappy words.

...

What.

His hooked nose scrunched up, in confusion, two little lines forming towards his lips as they pursed in, his eyes widening with furrowed brows.

He rolled his eyes, as his hand placed itself on the top of your head and pushed you back away from him. A scoff escaping his lips as he walked in towards the bathroom, the click of tje door echoing the now empty room, with only you in it.

...

Strange, he found it.

Strange.

But, yousoon showered, time for bed.

He laid down, as he grabbed his facemask that resided upon his oak nightstand, his pointer and thumbs pinching the strings of the fabric and sliding it onto his face. Over his eyes, as you laid beside him...

He began to think, just plans for tomorrow..

...

But he felt something.

What the hell?

He pinched the fabric of the mask, as he angrily lifted it up away from his face. You cuddled up to his chest, your hand tracing the lines on his chest, that adorned curls of lilac hair. What the hell?

You pulled your hand away, as you began to button up the sleep shirt, as you made sure it stayed buttoned up.

But, he watched as your hand traveled to his hair, your fingers intertwining within strands of hair. You twirled a strand around your index finger, as he furrowed his brows.

Oh my god.

He let go of the sleeping mask, as it slapped down upon his face. But, you only giggled about him doing such a thing.

Another day, he sat at his desk. At the king-themed chair, as a large hand gripped onto a quill. His two lamps were clicked on, as yellow light oozed from its pores. The stain-glass shined a beautiful color upon the entire office. He leaned back, as he dropped the quill, he couldn't think of what to write. He let out a frustrated sigh, as he caught glimpse of the Excalibur beside the crossbows near his desk. He caught some kind of motivation, as he sat back up. He pinched the quill within two large digits, the ink awaiting the tip of the quill to indulge in it.

But, he felt two hands fold onto his shoulders. What the hell?

You were massaging his shoulders?

Damn, he forgot you were here...

"I like your shoulders. It really brings out your body." You poured out, in a sappy string of words, that could practically melt off into a pan.

What the fuck?

At rhis point, you were playing tricks on him. No one loved someone this much.

Well, you did.

He turned his head, as he furrowed his brows. He opened his mouth to speak, but your pupils trailed from his shoulder towards his face, dilating in size upon viewing him.

W.. Wha.

You used your hand, as you cupped the side of his cheek with your palm. Your thumb gentle rubbed beneath his eye, in a loving manner.

He watched your face soften, a smile forcing itself upon your face, one you didn't try to happen. Your eyes locked onto his.

"Did anyone tell you you've got beautiful eyes..?"

Now you had to be kidding.

This wasn't true, you were trying to get something from him,

But, you inspected his eyes, before you spied upon his nose. An even happier smile beaming onto your face, as your cheeks started to heat up.

"Your nose fits you so perfectly.."

...

Wha...

Your eyes leered onto his lips, sizing them up with a giggle of joy, almost overwhelming joy.

"Oh, your lips are so plump, I love them,"

He couldn't help but feel..

Confused love?

You weren't serious, were you?

But, your pupils caught hook onto his, which could read confusion in every way.

"What?," You questioned, as you gentlynpinched his cheek, shaking it with a gentle force like some kind of mother, "I'm your lover, I'm allowed to say those kinds of things."

...

You were serious.

...

He couldn't lie,

As he watched you walk off, going to reorganize the potions that sit neatly on his shelf,

...

He...

...

He could get used to this.

~~~~~~

'The sun and stars would stop time, just for a moment to create the perfect you.'

~~~~~~

AAAAAAAAAAA

His body <<<3<3<3<3<3<3<333

Please enjoy

I'm so sorry they're not how they should be I'm just drained so they're not written really well eep

#big jack horner #jack horner #puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots #jack horner x reader #jack horner is so bbg #big jack horner x reader

151 notes · View notes

terushimooo · 2 years ago

Text

BREATHER

A composition on the decomposition of mind, body, and soul

vampire!Jean x human!reader

t/w: lots of blood, open sores, vague allusion to self-harm and domestic abuse, implied tortured and depressed reader, activation of potential trypophobia, one bug eaten, eating/drinking of blood, noncon vampire bite, implied abduction. Please let me know if I missed anything!!!!

a/n: thank you to both @iwaasfairy and @seijorhi for inviting me into your collab! I’m super excited to be back for my yearly contribution! I dedicate this piece to Rhi, my wife, and the eternal victim to my fics. I swear this is one of my most normal drabbles!! Happy supper early birthday my love!!!

And, of course, thank you to @bontenten for being my ride or die beta for life!!

w/c: 1.3k

Check out the events masterlist HERE and the corresponding art piece HERE

Stagnant, lifeless, putrid decomposition.

None are words that should be associated with someone entering their so-called “prime”.

And yet, here you are.

Every morning slowly becomes harder than the last, every day more painful.

Unseen to others, sores wrack your body, oozing and scabbing over in an almost religious fashion.

And yet, unlike religion, or maybe more like it than anyone else would care to admit, no matter how hard you pray, scrubbing and disinfecting the lifeless skin of weakened limbs, your body refuses to heal.

But that’s just the way Jean likes it.

On dark days when the clouds block out the sun, when the cool drizzle of rain thumps heavily onto his sun kissed skin, Jean can’t help but catch a glimpse of an unspoken truth.

You’re just so fragile… so weak… so…

So painfully human…

But, that’s precisely the way Jean likes you.

It’s on days like today, with goosebumps prickling your skin and teeth chattering violently from miles away, that a gnawing voice burrows its way deep into the crevices of Jean’s mind. It’s like he can’t control it, can’t stop the compulsion that has him seeking you out in your only time of freedom, the only time he lets you out of your confinement.

Even a moment without you is too long.

The strong breeze carries the smell of rain, renewal, rejuvenation, but most importantly, reward. It carries the scent of you, his dearest companion… his favourite, most precious pet.

Although your lips never truly part, never except to cry out and whimper in pathetic attempts for mercy, you call to Jean. Like a siren’s song, the soft trickle of blood from wounds beaten open by the rain’s percussion lures him in. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Jean pushes his way through chest-high blades of grass, wet stalks brushing up against haphazardly buttoned flannel and his best denim. An odd combination, but you weren’t there to help him dress in the morning. Clearly, Jean thinks with a scoff, a scoff soon replaced with a smirk and throaty chuckle, clearly you wanted a head start in the game he likes to call life. Or rather, your battle for it.

As Jean stares down the traces of limp foliage, grass and branches disturbed by previous passage, he can’t help but wonder just how far you’ve gotten this time. His eyes light up with his first trace of reward, with a gentle puddle of blood cradled perfectly in the cracks and crevices of the abrasive bark of a towering oak.

He knows he shouldn’t, but how can he stop? How can he stop his tongue from darting out, from finding its place upon the crimson stained wood. A soft groan slips past his lips as Jean laps at your taste, as he furiously seeks out every last drop of your blood.

He can’t stand to waste it. Can’t stand for anyone else to have it, not even the earth or the trees that in turn, give you life, give you something crucial—breath and oxygen.

Pure ecstasy flashes behind Jean’s eyes with every drop. It’s almost enough to have him forget about the scrambling bugs and maggots, the beatles and bark shavings he crunches between his teeth in an attempt not to waste your treasure.

If he had a working heart, it would beat only for you. If he had a soul, it would be tied only to you. And if he had any sense of compassion, of a true fondness and love for you and your wellbeing, he would let you die.

But Jean doesn’t have a heart. He doesn’t have a soul. But most importantly, he doesn’t have compassion—not enough to grant you mercy.

His love is selfish. His love is unstable. And his love is everlasting. That much is made clear by the quickly hardening shaft of his cock, stimulated only by the quickly passing taste of your blood.

Jean loves the chase, the little game you two play.

It’s one you’re not even aware of.

Taking off through the woods, bare feet rubbed raw against the rough floors of the forest, nightgown torn to tatters, sores opened and oozing down your trembling body, rain chilling you down to your bones—this is no game. To you, this is real. This is a battle for life, at least, what you have left of it…

But this time, this time you’ve gone too far. This time, there's no coming back.

In his mind, Jean would find you thrashing through the thicket, eyes wide and heart racing, blood leaking steadily from unsealed and revisited wounds.

In his mind, you’d scream. Cry out. Beg on your hands and knees for mercy, for his love.

But never could he imagine the scene in front of him.

When he finds you, when he sees your wounds ripped open, and wrists torn ragged by a branch, he can only imagine you used to try and find freedom.

When he finds you, Jean’s not mad. He thinks nothing but how childish you are. How foolish you are for trying this. How much you’re going to regret this.

It’s clear now that he can’t trust you, that he can’t leave you alone for even a second. Not while you’re like this. Not while you’re still human.

Heavy lidded eyes begging to rest for eternity shoot open as you're made aware of Jean’s presence. He calls to you with soft coddling and reassurance, but all you hear is nails against slate, an agitating and grating sensation and you’re wrought from your slumber.

“P-please,” you beg, voice soft and inaudible to even your own ears. “Don’t.”

But Jean doesn’t negotiate with incoherency. Even if he claims to care, your pleas fall on entire deaf ears. Instead of evoking a sense of pity, they just serve to drive his cause, to stake his claim.

It’s all a flurry of limbs.

Wild, desperate, bleeding hands. Bare feet swinging in abandon. Mouth left open in mid scream. Fists covered in open wounds and split knuckles claw desperately at their captors embrace. Sharpened fangs piece through bleeding gums, only seconds before they find their way into the crook of your neck.

For Jean, it’s euphoria. It’s everything he’s always wanted, maybe even more. But for you, for the poor, weak, and battered body coddled tightly in your captors embrace, for you its torture.

Fire runs through your veins as your eyes roll back into your skull. Gritted teeth are cracked open in an attempt to rob Jean of what little pleasure you can, to rob him the pleasure of seeing your pain.

But inevitably, all your actions were in vain.

As you lay shaking on his chest, gentle convulsions wracking your already worn out limbs, blood continuing to flow freely from the numerous sores and wounds littering your paleing form, Jean can't help but smile in content.

This day, this hour, this moment, this second, on February fourteenth… It’s at times like this where he thanks the gods, the gods who cursed him to an eternal life of indentured sorrow and suffering.

The only sounds coming from your cracked lips are gargled groans of pain and distress. Tears stream readily down your face as Jean sucks from his own wrist to provide to you his one gift—the gift of life. Eternal life.

Forever by his side.

Cold, dead lips press against yours in anything but reverence. It’s hard, aggressive, and mixed with passion. But to Jean, to Jean it’s perfect. In fact, he could almost swear that your pain is really just pleasure. Your lips aren’t moving out of spite, but finally requited love.

As Jean continues to watch the seconds pass, to watch the life slowly drain from your quivering, whimpering lips, Jean thinks to himself that this must be the first time in the hundreds, maybe thousands of years in his pathetic existence that finally, with you turned and bound to him for all of eternity, finally, Jean can take a breather.

#yandere aot #aot x reader #jean x reader #yandere aot x reader #yandere jean #vampire jean #lee writes #tw lees infection

173 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 1 year ago

Note

Rhi I don’t know if you’ve already shared a thirst of a purge!au but bodyguard iwa inspired by purge:election year HSNSNBD sorry for the brainrot coz i just recently read undertow and the writing’s so good and intense 🥹 ur an amazing author, rhi!!

I actually haven’t seen all the purge films, only the first one hshdjdjdkd so I have no idea if what I say next is even remotely close to the plot or not but who cares here goes :))

You pick Iwa because he’s strong and quick, and you feel safe with him. The purge reduces crime, yes, but it’s never eliminated it entirely. After watching Iwa take down a would be shooter on the campaign trail without breaking a sweat, there’s no one you trust more to stay by your side on Purge night.

And Iwa is loyal. He might think you’re too idealistic, too naive – too good for the political shit fight you’re dropping yourself into, but he’ll keep you safe. Not out of the goodness of his heart, or because he believes in what you’re preaching, not even for the money. He’s not so noble as all that (he’s never been anything but selfish where you’re concerned).

Iwa was born for violence. There’s something deep inside of him that craves it. Maybe that’s just human nature – he thought that for a while, watching people burn shit and break things, killing for the sheer fun of it on Purge night. But then there’s people like you, who condemn the needless violence, flinch from it.

Maybe you are right, and people as a whole are better than this. He isn’t. He’s a twisted piece of fucking work, but if he’s hurting people, killing them for you, well, that scratches his itch just fine.

#also #I will suffer all the takemitchy in the world #for animated izana and kakucho #and more ran and rindou #<33 #rhi answers

39 notes · View notes

agentofreedom · 5 months ago

Text

{You Can Road-Rage At Me Anytime - Read on AO3 }

Ch. 2: now we’re talking business

Read ch.1 on tumblr here

Unfortunately, luck was decidedly not on Violet’s side, evidenced by the ominous clunk-clunk-clunk that reverberated from Andarna’s engine when she turned her on the next morning and drove her out of the garage to better inspect her beloved. The noise had not been there the day before. Nor had the vibrating sensation under her feet when she pressed on the brake.

She parked on the side of the road outside her apartment, and popped open the bonnet, dread rising in her chest. She hadn’t actually expected to find any damage, but she had to admit - miserably - that she may have taken that turn to avoid the crash yesterday much too harshly for her aged (but well loved) car. She winced again at the memory of the screeching tyres - she had at least checked them first, and they were thankfully okay.

“Okay, girl, let’s get this over with,” she murmured, patting the shimmering bonnet before rolling up her sleeves and leaning in to get a closer look at the engine.

When Violet had spent almost her entire savings on Andarna, the car had been sitting at the dealership for a long while, having been overlooked by customers because of her custom paintjob. But Violet saw her and could hear the ghost of her dad’s voice rumbling in her head, his fondness for this car brought on by his own childhood constantly travelling through various states and counties with his parents thanks to their work and the only constant being their Chevy, his first home. And when she had slid into the driver’s seat, the interior wrapped itself around her like a welcome hug, and something inside her warmed up like a healing balm.

She threw herself into researching all the ways to best look after her car - after affectionately naming her Andarna, another ode to Dad - and no one could argue that when Violet put her mind to learning the ins and outs of something, that she wouldn’t master it.

“Shit,” she hissed presently, as she took stock of what had made the ticking noise. She reached for the snapped timing belt she could just about see the frayed ends of, tugging until the damage was clear. Narrowing her eyes, she peered at it, then hummed to herself. That didn’t explain the vibrations though.

She heaved a sigh and fished around some more, and was elbows-deep trying to get a look under, cursing and sweating, when her phone rang.

Groaning, Violet straightened up slowly and reached into her back pocket, grimacing at the oil on her fingers as she swiped at her phone. Devera, her screen alerted her, and her eyebrows shot up as she answered.

“Hello?”

“Violet,” her boss answered, “We’ve just had a new lead come in. How far are you?”

Violet pursed her lips. It wasn’t exactly unheard of to wrap up a case only for a new one to come their way immediately after - but it was definitely a rarity. “I’ll be there in 20.”

“I’ll fill you in as soon as you arrive,” she promised before shutting.

Well. That was strange. Violet blinked down at her phone, then at her car, the engine still on full display, and dropped her head back with a gusty sigh. “Looks like you’ll have to wait for me, girl,” she murmured, gently dropping the hood and locking her car before turning back to head inside her apartment.

Seventeen minutes later, she was stepping out of Rhi’s car, having scrubbed off the engine oil at home and freshened up, catching her friend before she could head down to her law firm down the road from Violet’s own workplace. She had ordered a new timing belt to arrive tonight so she could at least knock off one thing on her list by the time she returned home after work.

She blew a kiss back at her best friend and got one in return, then strode into the foyer, mind abuzz with what kind of priority lead they may have received if Devera hadn’t wanted to mention anything over the phone.

They’d had a couple of significant leads in the past like this.

Of course, Violet had a keen eye for high security leads considering her upbringing and consecutive distancing from Lilith Sorrengail, deputy chief of the law enforcement department, among other things that Violet had yet to work out. Well, and her mother. She hadn’t chosen to become a private eye after her father passed away just for the hell of it - although there was no doubt she sought the thrill of solving cases and piecing information together.

She nodded at Nadine at the front desk as she walked on through to Devera’s office, knocking lightly once before entering.

Whatever she had thought to find inside, she never would have expected to come face-to-face with one Cam Tauri, sitting across from a stern Devera. They both looked up as she stepped in, her wide eyes fixed on the familiar but more grown-up face of the Tauri family’s youngest. She shut the door behind her with a decisive click of the lock, not taking her eyes off him.

“Violet,” said Devera, motioning for her to sit. “It seems you’re both already acquainted.” Her keen gaze didn’t miss much.

Violet narrowed her gaze, not sure what game Cam was playing in coming here - she hadn’t heard from him in years, and she didn’t exactly trust his father or older brother Halden, so she held her tongue until he spoke first, clearing his throat.

“Yes, I… your reputation precedes you both, of course,” he said smoothly, glancing between the two women, the cool look of haughtiness covering his expression where Violet could see nervous lines before. “As I told your partner here,” he added to Violet, “I’m looking into my brother’s disappearance.”

“Your brother’s disappearance,” she replied, flatly.

Alic Tauri’s name had spread through their databases last year when his father, the chief of the law enforcement department - also her mother’s higher-up - had tried to hush up the details around his disappearance, seemingly embarrassed by whatever his incompetent foolhardy son had gotten caught up in and any damage to his own reputation as a result. But as far as Violet knew, Alic had gone off the rails a long time before that.

“And that,” said Devera flatly, “is the extent of what he’s told me.”

Violet looked at her carefully; she clearly did not know who sat before them. Again, what game was Cam playing?

“Well, yes, you see - I’d like to work with Sorrengail alone,” he added coolly.

She raised her eyebrows, and exchanged glances with an unimpressed Devera.

Devera was not exactly her boss, more so a mentor in the field, but she had many years of experience under her belt, not to mention her time with the military; so Violet trusted her expertise while also using her knowledge to gain a leg-up in the PI world. They worked almost all their cases together, Violet being much more suited for field work than her older counterpart, while Devera managed their databases and kept things running smoothly in the office.

“Well, then,” she said, spreading her hands as if to say go ahead to Violet. “You heard the man. He can follow you to your office.”

Cam met her eyes and stood up swiftly, waiting for Violet to take the lead. She communicated silently to Devera that she had this covered, and received a grim nod in return. The older woman may not know who exactly this was, but she clearly gathered he was more high profile than their usual leads.

Still silent, Violet ushered him into her office, closing the blinds of her windows and once again locking the door behind her.

“Alright.” She turned to him sharply, watching him stand up straight defiantly at her attention. “What’s this about, Cam?”

“Aaric,” he immediately said.

“What?” she asked, perturbed.

“You’re to call me Aaric in company, and not a peep of the family name,” he muttered, then seeing her deadly narrowed eyes, added, “Please, Violet.”

She let loose a long breath and counted to ten in her head. “And your brother? Alic? Am I also to call him by his middle name?” she asked, sarcastically.

He dropped his mask a bit to frown at her, having the nerve to actually look affronted. “Don’t be silly, we both know he’s dead.”

That caught her attention swiftly. Chewing on her bottom lip, Violet eyed him in a new light. He had grown, that was right, but there really was something else there - an edge in his eyes, the way he fixed his jaw, the light brown fuzz there and the shadow behind his scowl giving the look of someone who carried a hidden weight. Also, while she’d had her suspicions about the middle Tauri son, she hadn’t actually known for certain that he was dead, and she had definitely had much greater things to keep an eye out for over the past few years than the whereabouts or living status of the family of a man she despised.

“No,” Cam - or Aaric - continued, his eyes sweeping her room unseeingly in a nervous tic, seemingly unaware he had just dropped a minor bombshell on her. “That’s just my cover story.” When he looked back at her, Violet felt alarm bells start to ring in her head, almost wishing she could stop the next words from leaving his mouth. “What I really need you to do, is uncover my father’s secrets.”

–

When Violet had left the field of law that she had been studying with Rhi, to instead pursue a career as a private investigator, her closest friends hadn’t so much as batted an eye. They had seen how formidable she was in her research, how she was able to uncover facts about her case studies and piece together the relevant laws and procedures in a fraction of the timespan it took some of her peers. They didn’t question her motives, besides that she was a natural at the job.

She had never told a single soul what pushed her to make the leap.

Not even Mira, who had spent the better half of six months going between her and their mother, thinking she had had a hand in the youngest Sorrengail’s decision, and then trying to convince her ‘baby’ sister that law was what she was meant to do, and didn’t she remember what Dad had always envisioned for her? But when she had seen that Violet had made up her mind and had gone into the PI world with all the finesse and cunning of a seasoned investigator, she had taken a step back and become one of Violet’s fiercest cheerleaders.

But still, Violet didn’t tell her.

For all that anyone knew, their eldest brother Brennan - detective lieutenant of his own police squad - had died in an accident, a leaked gas explosion, years ago on a job that their mother had authorised. That Tauri had authorised. He had supposedly been chasing a trail on one Riorson, of Riorson and Sons, a cybersecurity firm that Lilith Sorrengail had had viciously shut down in a power move one night a few years ago following Brennan’s death, on various counts of fraud and money laundering. But Violet knew that Brennan, in the weeks leading up to this alleged case, had been following leads on an unrelated homicide charge - although how she knew that was arguably not within the bounds of ‘legal’.

Their father’s health had become incredibly poor in the months after, the loss of his son and firstborn a heavy weight on his already-tired heart, and the grief that followed had torn the Sorrengail family apart for good.

Violet hadn’t communicated with her mother in a good four years - but that didn’t mean she hadn’t kept tabs on her…. and, consequently, on Tauri Senior.

Not even Devera knew what Violet kept in her own personal databases; and now, Cam Tauri stood before her, about to unravel all that she had been working on in the background, by his mere presence.

–

Violet was faintly surprised she hadn’t worn a hole right down her office carpet from how many circles she had paced while Cam spoke.

Besides his casual sharing of his brother’s fate, he had not mentioned anything so far that Violet was not already aware of. Tauri Senior was running a tight ship in the law enforcement agency, those closest to him kept quiet regarding his real motives behind certain moves - such as the Riorson case - which he had administered charges against with a swiftness and brutality that belied the usual bureaucratic processes around here. The man had made many enemies on the streets, that much she knew, and of course Lilith was right up there with him, her hands allegedly just as dirty. But she could not prove it, or uncover what exactly they were working on, or why it all felt so shifty except that her gut - which had not steered her wrong yet - told her there was more underneath the surface.

And then, Cam uttered words she had to pause and repeat, confused. “Wait, did you say you think he has his hands on VENIN tech?”

“Yes,” Cam said grimly.

“But…” She trailed off, thinking fast. “How? Barrens Inc. got shut down long before they finalised that kind of tech, and with good reason.”

“Shut down by who?” he asked pointedly.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

How had she missed this? “How are they operating it? Are they operating it? It was meant to be breakthrough research that had backed it up, it’s not something any old engineer can just run,” she ruminated, thinking out loud. Cam watched her silently. “This changes everything. We’re not supposed to be thinking about using that kind of technology on civilians, not even by the law enforcement.” How many layers were hiding under the widespread corruption that she still had no real leads on?

Well - no leads until now.

“Yeah, well,” Cam muttered, dropping his head into his hands tiredly. “We can’t have our enemies threatening public security now, can we? Of course we need every heads-up we can possibly use.”

Something about his words niggled at Violet’s already whirring brain, besides the thick sarcasm coating his tone, but she moved sharply behind her desk and fired up her personal laptop instead of pulling on that thread. She could not use the shared databases for this - it was much too risky for anyone, even Devera, to catch even a whiff of what they might be working on - so she settled into her chair and pulled up her own databases instead.

“Right,” she said, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder as she began to type rapidly. “Here’s what we need…”

–

It was well past sundown by the time Violet slipped out of the cab she’d taken home, letting him drop her off at the beginning of her street rather than her doorstep so she could walk in the silent, dark, cool night air for a few minutes, needing a respite from the hours of thinking and trying to piece together pieces that refused to fit.

She paused by Andarna to sweep a hand over her metallic bonnet, half-wishing she could have spent the day tinkering away here instead of this relentless weight of Cam’s - Aaric’s, she had to remind herself - new lead. She shook her head, continuing up the steps of her building to her unit. There was a small delivery box waiting for her outside her door, and she checked the sticker to find that it was indeed the car’s timing belt she had ordered earlier that day.

At least one thing would be fixed by tomorrow morning.

Remembering the shuddering of her car underneath her feet when she had braked to park earlier that day, Violet grimaced. She knew it was the brake pads. They had needed a service before her last job which had taken the better part of a fortnight, and lots of driving around, so she knew logically that it had only been a matter of time before they gave up. It was just her luck that they happened in this moment.

As she let herself into her small home, throwing herself gladly on the couch to finally lay still on a horizontal surface (her aching joints thanked her loudly), she let herself think of the mysterious X in her phone contacts list. She knew that she could ideally claim the damages to her car from his own insurance, as she had already insinuated to him that she would do, but the idea of going through that whole process with insurances and making claims was enough to flare up a headache; let alone talking to him again which set her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Now that her mind was slowing down from the constant whirr of the Tauri lead, she couldn’t shake off the lingering intensity of his dark gold-flecked gaze as she wondered for the umpteenth time what a man like that was doing running - or speeding - away from that ferocious woman who had followed him.

She had unlocked her phone and found his number while thinking. She had to snort at the pretentious ‘X’ he had labelled himself - had he not realised she had caught his name from the woman, Catriona? Or was he accustomed to going around putting his contact details in girls’ phones under a solitary initial? Maybe he thought it added to his dark and mysterious charm-

Charm? Her brain definitely meant something else.

But - she stubbornly moved her thought process on - he had purposefully chosen to give her his number. This told her, at surface level, a few things:

1. He didn’t want her to have his licence details which, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t given her his entire first name, added to her certainty that he was holding onto some sort of privacy with regards to his identity.

2. He didn’t take her number, so he was sure that she was going to contact him.

3. That meant he knew he was at fault and that she likely had damaged something in her car to need to contact him in the first place.

4. He was an arrogant piece of work.

She huffed a breath, feeling frustrated all over again.

Never one to ignore a challenge, she pressed the call button and raised the phone to her ear.

Maybe she was just keen for a distraction.

The phone only rang once before that low voice answered. “Yes?”

What was she doing?

Violet set her jaw. “It’s me.”

There was a pause on the other end. She, once again, quashed the flush that rose up her chest at her own nonsensical response.

She heard a faint mutter of what might have sounded like ‘violence’ but before she could demand coherence, he said clearly - and she could hear the cocky smirk in his voice, “Thought I’d never hear from you. What with how hot and bothered you were yesterday, I figured you’d waste no time assessing your damages and ripping me a new one as soon as you got home.”

Did this dickhead think this was a game? She sat up, shooting back sharply, “I’m flattered you were waiting for me.”

He chuckled, a quiet sound that sent tingles straight down her traitorous spine. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?”

What the hell. “I wouldn’t sound quite so cocky if I were in your position,” she gritted out.

“And why not?”

“Because, you asshole, you owe me repairs, like I said.”

“I’ll Venmo you the amount,” he said easily, as if he hadn’t given her a headache yesterday arguing with her about who was at fault.

She pulled the phone away for a second to rub a hand down her face, irritated all over again. She returned it to snap, “What’s your deal?”

“What’s your deal?” he snapped back, and she narrowed her eyes in a deathly glare that she hoped reached him somehow.

“I’m sorry?!”

“You called me for your repairs, and I agreed. What’s your issue, exactly?”

“You!” she cried, forgetting for a moment that she was speaking to someone who was probably involved in the kinds of things she was usually hired to uncover, if yesterday’s weird exchange was anything to go by. “My issue is that you’re infuriating to deal with, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make you special. You’ll have to get in line,” he growled.

That voice and his words were doing opposite and confusing things to her body, and she was really starting to regret this entire phone call.

She huffed, not caring that it sent static down the line. “Fine, whatever. I’m texting you the amount. I’d like to get Andarna back on the road in the next couple days ideally. Work doesn’t wait.”

Another brief pause, then a surprised, “Andarna?”

Ugh, she did not need a hot stranger’s judgement at this point. “Yes,” she said shortly. “Goodbye, Xaden.”

She felt a fierce vindication when she heard a very audible surprised breath sucked in from his end, before she shut the line in lieu of the flipped bird she really wished she could send him instead.

She texted him her Venmo with just her first name for reference, and the amount for repairs after taking a moment to search up the required parts; then tossed her phone aside and dropped her head back on her couch’s headrest, doing her best to relax and release the tension in her neck and shoulders. It was no use, she was ten times more wound tight than she had been before the stupid phone call.

Her phone dinged three times with consecutive notifications, and she groaned, shutting her eyes tightly. She didn’t need to see what the messages read. It wasn’t important.

But her traitorous hand inched towards the phone anyway, and without opening it she read the replies on her lock screen:

Done.

7:43 PM

Violet, huh? Looks like Violence suits you.

7:44 PM

And the third was a notification confirming she had received the amount deposited into her account.

She stared at the two messages until her phone screen dimmed. This confusing man was not going to let her mind rest, clearly.

#the empyrean #the empyrean fanfic #fourth wing fanfic #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #riorgail #modern day au #private investigator violet

7 notes · View notes

saintmurd0ck · 1 year ago

Note

RHI!!! A million congrats on 2.5k, I can't think of anyone who deserves it more 🥰 and so glad you're back and feeling ok! For the train, I'd loveee to take a trip to 86th st with Mikey Kinsella and “please, for the love of god, shut up for once.” “why don’t you come over here and make me?” i think the way you write it would be SO gorgeous and interesting ❤️ and also because im a slut, i just know id LOSE it over a stop at Heuston Station with Fratt x reader and ❛ you want gentle? wrong fucking address. ❜ Anyways I'm so so excited to read everything you do for this event 🥰 congrats again!!

all fired up

join my sleepover | main masterlist

pairing: michael kinsella x reader

warnings: amanda slander, a tiny bit of spice (minors DNI), aggressive michael / reader, yes we're a little mean but dont worry he gets the upper hand ;)

a/n: christie my gorgeous, thank you so so so much for dropping in 🥺 i hope you like this one, and i am gonna post the fratt request in a separate ask >:) btw i am amending the prompts to better fit the characters i am writing for, so i hope you dont mind xoxo

Michael’s silent rage simmers in your periphery as he leans against the wall like a fallen angel, gritting his teeth, letting his chest rise and fall in short, controlled bursts. Everything in the room is setting him off: the clicking of your pen, the faint hum of the air-conditioner, and the distant noise of traffic from the main road.

Unfortunately for him, you’re far from caring today; not when you’ve scraped together the business proposal of a lifetime. One that could easily retire you in the blink of an eye.

You’ve worked your ass off to coordinate this, so isn’t it only fair that Michael, being the other major stakeholder in this business, quits his grumbling? It’s as if he can’t — or won’t — comprehend what this means if this works out. If you negotiate your way through this successfully, with Michael there or not, the Kinsellas land on top. They’ll control Dublin, and possibly the whole of Ireland, with opportunities to plant roots and spread vines across all the major networks in Europe. And as you’re the only decision maker not married to — or even fucking — anyone in the family, you’ve had to prove your worth, a thousand times more so. Simply being Michael’s closest friend and confidante didn’t sit well with the others, but you’ve made yourself far more capable than anyone in this business.

And this deal will cement you into the Kinsella hall of fame.

You cut a glance to where he’s standing, a momentary pang of empathy softening your expression. He’s exhausted from today, and it isn’t just the circles under his eyes that demonstrate it. You know his tells better than anyone; in fact, you know him so well that just by judging his body language, you can deduce who he’s been with, what he’s been up to, and what he tries hard to conceal. Right now, and at your disdain, you can see Amanda written all over him. It’s obvious in the way he’s carrying himself, with his chin pointed downwards, the tension almost shrugging his shoulders. Even his skin gives it away, from the warmth in his cheeks to the flush at the tips of his ears.

“Let me guess,” you sigh, breaking the silence, “Amanda thinks you’re not doin’ a good enough job, and you shouldn’t be workin’ with me?” Saying her name is enough to set you off, but you do your best to diffuse the situation, to bring Michael back to the present.

His eyes flick to yours at the mention of her name, and you grimace inwards at the sharp stab to your gut. “Somethin’ like tha’.”

It confirms what you suspected; that he and Amanda had met up today, for purposes you try not to burden yourself with. It isn’t your business what they get up to, or how many times you notice her silhouette beyond the frosted glass of his front door. 5 times this week, and it’s only Wednesday, you think, chewing on your lip.

Unease courses through your veins, and so you go to do what’s natural, and sweep the thoughts under the proverbial rug in your mind. You gesture at the mountain of paperwork in front of you. “Are you gonna help me, Michael?”

His only response is a delicate muscle feathering in his jaw, and for some reason, it sends a lick of angry heat up your spine. The deadline to the deal looms in front of you like a ticking time-bomb, and all he can do is stay silent, and God forbid, mope about Amanda?

Your mouth thins as you take a moment to decide if you want to add to his anguish. To deliver an insult worthy of his attention. There’s a rush that flows through you, a sick kind of satisfaction, that tug the corners of your mouth upwards. If it were Eric, or Jimmy, or even Amanda, he would’ve lost his shit by now. He’d probably have stormed out and sulked home, making sure his gun was accessible from beneath his jacket at all times. His heart would thunder in his ears, itching for a fight with some unfortunate soul who’d then be promptly taken out by none other than the Magician.

Your voice rings out across the room, coming out more confident than you’d played out in your head. “She refuse to blow you today or what?”

Michael’s brows furrow together. “What did you say?”

“I asked you something, Michael. Are you pissed because Amanda didn’t open her legs for you?”

His mouth twists into a sneer. “I’d stop talkin’ if I were you.”

But you return his glare, your blood thrumming with challenge. “Actually, I commend her for doin’ that. ‘Cause I wouldn’t want to fuck someone so miserable either.”

He’s in front of you in a couple of strides, seething cold fury as his voice drops an octave. When he talks, his breath fans your face. “I said stop fuckin’ talkin’.”

You swallow, feeling your chest heave as some unchecked part of you — the part that’s scared of no-one — takes over. “Or what?” You pout, cocking your head to the side. “Are you gonna run back to Amanda and tell her how mean I’ve been to you?”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” he spits, grabbing you by the collar, shoving you until the back of your thighs press up against the desk.

Your retort comes out just before he lowers his mouth to yours. Just before he wedges his thick hand between your legs. “Why don’t you make me?”

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #kin amc #michael kinsella smut #x reader #all aboard the saintmurd0ck express #rhi writes 💻

52 notes · View notes

iwaasfairy · 1 year ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ FLUIDITY

tw. dubcon, monsterfucking, explicit size kink, interspecies sex, reader has sex pollen like effects, communication barrier, manipulation, yandere (other parts will contain a lot more explicit dark kinks so please read every individual part's warnings!) wordcount. 8.7k

part 1 of —

a/n. ♡♡ thank you so much rhi for keeping me going through this, idk if i would have pushed through if not for you so ily ily ily and this fic is just indulgence as a period piece and a monsterfucking fic but i hope you give it a chance and like it bc there's moresomes a-coming and this is just the beginning so! yeA i hope you guys enjoy mwuah mwuah mwuah ♡♡

tachibana makoto x fem!reader ( x other characters coming)

Dragonflies glint the prettiest, richest silver you’ve ever seen under the right light. The rosy evening sun casts the entire river into a blooming glow— complete with a soft blanket of fog that rolls along the base of the trees. “Your maiden servants worry about you, you know,” a voice softly calls, and the rustle of shrubbery makes you turn.

You don’t really want to know how long the man’s been guarding you without a word. If it were anyone but one of your father’s most trusted men, you’d probably have some distrust. Instead you only pull your knees to your chest, and continue tossing rocks into the babbling brook.

“Lady, it’ll get dark soon. Your parents don’t want you playing out here so late.”

The small area isn’t open enough to lure any visitors. You’d be fine. Still, you slowly bob your head, waiting for him to step away from the tree edge into the river bank with you. “I had a weird dream, only it didn’t feel like a dream.” The reeds sway in the wind, and you almost let the perfect surrounding whisk away the thought. But the man’s hand drops from his sword, and he gives the faintest of nods. “There was a monster here when I fell asleep— one with a huge mouth packed full of teeth. I saw eyes in the water, and hair so long it covered its whole body.” The tart remnants of your delicately applied makeup wash away as you swallow. “I think- it was a yokai.”

“There’s no yokai here, lady,” he patiently responds, and you turn to him better. This time taking a proper look. If the damp hair tied in a bun is anything to go off of, he was most likely called out of his bath to come out looking for you. You bite your lip, apology lingering on your tongue. But that’s where it stays, as the man continues. “There’s monsters only where people don’t go. You needn’t worry.”

“Are you comforting me?” A slight giggle passes your lips before you can help it. “I know you think I’m lying. You don’t believe anything you don’t see with your own eyes.”

“... It’s not for a lack of trying.” He smooths a hand over his hakama, before resting it back on the pristine handle of his sword. The dragonflies buzz over the low edge of the water, and your feet ache a little from the cold. You’d love to ask to be carried right about now, but spare the poor man the effort. It’s the least you can do. After another few minutes of silence and watching the sun disappear entirely below the tree line, he finally clears his voice. “Come on, lady. We should really get back. You’re precious to your parents. You’re precious to us all. I can’t leave you here.”

This river runs from the high mountains all the way through the small lake that borders the gates of your home; and all the way down the lowlands— and it’s said that on the day of your birth the river flooded, and provided the most bountiful harvest of the last few decades. Even as a child, there was no ignoring the gleeful whispering of the ladies, nor the calculated introductions of sons of poorer lords at every birthday or feast. Some day not too long from now you will get married and spread providence over the land… and there won’t be time for napping by rivers or running off half-dressed into the forest.

Somehow, despite the honor, a small part of you goes cold at that. The water glistens under the last of the light— and you take a long look into the deep of it. The eyes the color of hot coals flash through your mind once more, and you start pulling the fabrics of your dresses aside to put your zori back on. “I know it was a monster- but-” The wind picks up when you turn over your shoulder and smile your most genuine smile. “I wasn’t scared, I think. Perhaps it was friendly.”

The guard is quiet as he watches you get up from the riverbank, and sticks a comfortable distance after helping you gently up onto your feet. You suppose he doesn’t really have the heart, or perhaps confidence, to tell you what he really thinks of your childish talk. The barely-there path back to your home has you growing much more tired— as if weights are tied to your legs. You wish you could stay. The moss crunches softly under your feet, and the dewy air starts to feel a bit cold to the touch. Despite everything, it’s always peaceful here. You cast a brief glance up to the man as he pushes the shrubbery aside. His face has a vacant sort of look, until he catches you looking, and his mouth curls up. “I’ll tell your maiden servants to prepare a purifying ritual for you.”

“Ugh, no, please. Anything but that.”

“The koi fish aren’t around anymore, are they, lady?” There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as your maid walks up.

You nod, lift your sleeves to brush your fingers through the water and wait. You got them as a present for your coming of age festivities— the most beautiful blue grey with red fins— much too expensive for your liking but a courting gift nonetheless. You’d been quite fond of the walks out of your houses’ walls because of them. The feed floats sadly on the surface of the inlet, where the clear river water shows no sign at all of the normally curious animals. “It seems like they’ve gone.” What a shame.

Your other maiden scans the area, before rushing to help you up onto your feet as she lowers her head. “Should we ask the master to procure some more? We know feeding the fish brings you much joy.”

The girl helps to fix your sleeves again, before awaiting your call. “No, that’s quite alright. There’s no use replacing a gift.” You cast a wary glance at the bay once more, not quite sure what you’re looking for; but fail to find anything out of the ordinary. A sight furrow comes to your brow, before you hike up your layers of skirts- much to the shock of your two servants- and turn to them with a softer smile. “I would like to be alone for a bit—”

“Lady!” one of them squeaks, but you only laugh.

“I am certain, Hitsu. Tell my father I will be home before tea and dinner, and if you could prepare my bath…” The dark brunette has a question on her tongue, but does nod with the same trained properness that you’ve come to know. “I simply wish to walk along the river, I won’t swim. It’ll be quick, I promise.” It’s not a lie. You have no intention of ruining your beautiful, expensive clothing by going any further than a shallow few steps. But there’s a nagging memory somewhere in the back of your mind—

You used to have so many dreams, all of them now too faint to recall. Both young ladies give each other a look, before eventually bowing deeply and heading back towards the palace gates.

See, that nagging sense that you’re forgetting something important, something crucial, overcomes you. It’s almost impossible to ignore, and you kick off your shoes to tread carefully along the edge of the deep pool of fresh spring water. The moss is soft under your feet, keeping a tight grip on your embroidered silks.

When you were only a few years old, you used to have these dreams. Dreams of drowning, of ghouls and demons. They grew scarcer the older you got, and eventually even the weekly purification spells and chants became declared unnecessary. But where the memories once sat, now only a blank hole remains in your mind. And however hard you try to remember, you can never quite get there. You make it to the sloped edge of the river not much later, stepping up the small sputtering waterfall and a few round stones between stray bamboo— nearly still water pooling at your feet.

It’s chilly, but not freezing. Something scratches in the back of your skull, deep down. It trickles down your neck, and with a steady heartbeat, it breathes.

But you can’t catch the thought, and the harder you try, the cloudier it becomes— eventually you click your tongue and start walking along the water edge up stream. You should look for your fish. If they swam out of the inlet somehow, maybe they’d be around. They are, much like you are, bred for captivity and wouldn’t survive too long on their own. The sun casts warm spring rays onto your skin, walking in much needed solitude. When you barely realize you’ve spaced out, you’ve already made it to a bend in the river where peach blossoms float on the otherwise pristine surface of the water— and despite your previous care, you drop your dress.

The blossoms swirl in slow circles. And a raindrop lands on your nose.

Arms, wrapped tight around your chest. Claws. Wide lashless eyes.

Something floods your brain so suddenly that you stumble back a few steps and gasp, sucking in a breath.

It was here. You can’t exactly make out what, but your gut recognizes the trees, the scraggly stones sticking out of the water. Your lungs full of water, and hands all over.

Bumps rise all over your back as you look around, and water seeps up along your tarikubi robe. It’s so quiet, and the stillness starts to trouble with each droplet that comes down. But you breathe. You’ve been here, perhaps more than once, and the aching, pressing itch deep in your head grows more unbearable. When a metallic flicker catches your eyes, you glance down. The rain now starts up more properly, and though the trees provide some shelter, there’s no hiding away from the cold as you walk in just deep enough to bend and pick up a dainty golden chain from between the smooth rocks.

It’s fine like thread, and cold to the touch, and though you can’t quite explain it; something about this finely crafted piece is familiar too. Even through the rain and the chills crawling all the way up your spine, you study the necklace closer. The intricate detail is almost too pristine.

A soft splash on the other side of the river startles you— The sudden scare makes you lose your balance and fall back onto your lower end. Hard. The ache immediately has you whimpering, but instead of worrying about the pain, you slowly try to catch yourself on the rocks; pained enough in the motion that you swear — you see a person diving underneath the water edge. Something pale and fast. You scream, and whatever you saw dashes away before you can think about doing different. The blossoms drift off as you scramble back up; your bruised palms sting, and your heartbeat still hammers hard in your throat when the silence returns.

But the blurry flash of maroon hair and fiery red eyes you caught is long gone.

And much too soon, the clouds that had seemed so fluffy and beautiful earlier turn a dreary grey. You turn on your heel and book it back down the river side on bare feet— still clamping the chain between your fingers.

The wick of your lantern splutters with thick oil as you fail to catch sleep. Even with the spring weather it’s chilly, with you remaining wrapped under a thick blanket. You breathe a long sigh, and listen to the crackling of the candle beside your bed in the absence of any other sound. The earlier lecture of your father, your mother, and even the normally quiet and collected matron of the house still lingers on your mind— it’s not like you can blame anyone. You wouldn’t be the first stupid, brazen young girl who happened to drown, and despite the quiet lives most girls like you live, you most likely won’t be the last.

You shouldn’t have been out there. Your servants had been ghastly pale from fright upon seeing the state in which you returned, and even the thorough scrubbing and hours-long bath didn’t do much to alleviate the ache in your lower back.

Despite all that, you’re stuck. Eyes -monstrous, unnatural eyes- appear in the crevices of your mind each time you close your own. No amount of prayer makes the longing fade, and the longer you lay here, the deeper they seem to dig into your flesh. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin once more. When you throw your blankets off you, you go digging in one of the woven baskets for the thickest bland garments you’ve got— tying them around your hips until you’re dressed enough to peer out into the hall. The frigid air current howls through the house when you gather your lantern, some woven socks, and after a brief bit of deliberation; snatch the golden chain from beside your pillow.

The palace is quiet at night, an almost eerie sort of calm that is broken only by the soft ‘pats’ of your feet on the hardwood— with the lanterns barely providing enough light to see a good arms length at a time. The wind pushes you forward, nuzzling deeper into the collar of your clothing until you make it outside. Even under the starry sky, there’s no doubt that this is a stupid idea. No good can come from nightly outings — though you’ve seen girls come and go in similar ways under the cover of night, you’re quite sure their purpose was less out-for-trouble than you are now. But what else can you do?

How could you ever sleep soundly not knowing what’s out there.

With only the flickering reflection on the water, you bow before your home— you’d be back soon enough. You love your clan— and you have no intention of getting caught in long lectures twice in a night. The guards at the gates have no way of noticing you as you slip into the brush and cover the lamp from sight, as cold breaths form clouds before your eyes.

Your legs move almost instinctively until you come upon the peach tree, and the pretty white flowers rain down with the breeze. You place the candle by your feet; and hesitate before taking your own seat on a round rock right by the water edge. You’ve never seen a yokai. Not that you can remember at the very least, but if you would have-you didn’t expect to here. Not the river that blessed your birth, or the one who gives everyone life by way of harvest. Maybe what you saw was a farmer bathing, or a particularly pale, large cod— wouldn’t that make more sense. Isn’t that exactly why you didn’t tell your father?

Because naïvity and silly wonder seems better than monsters lurking among the shrub.

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, a soft splashing in the water sets every hair on your body upright— and your mouth goes dry. It’s so dark. So awfully dark that it’s hard to see even past your own feet, if not for the broken reflection of your candle in the water. You know it's there. You feel it, by the rancid sort of churning in your stomach, the rapid beating of your heart. You swallow the tightness in your throat as best you can. “I’ve come to return your necklace. I didn’t mean to steal it, so I’ve come to give it back.” You wish you could let your eyes grow used to the dark, but without candle light, it’d be so much harder to get back home in one piece.

After just the sounds of the river drag on, you slowly take another breath, and try to bite back the wetness that rises every time you try and fail to find the eyes you know are looking at you. “I don’t wish to harm anyone.” The wind seems to howl harder across the river, and you can’t fight the horrible visions of monsters all around you, just there in the darkness; tightening your hands into fists. “So I wish you would not harm me either. You can have it back.” Your hand shakes when you hold out the chain above the water— not nearly far enough for anything to reach it without coming into your sight. But you’re too frightened to go any deeper, and your lungs tighten.

“Please, I-”

The peaceful spluttering of the water is suddenly disrupted by a much louder splashing, and you freeze up with a sharp gasp, shoulders trembling despite yourself. You don’t dare move any more than that— only after a minute or so of silence, you continue. “Hello? Don’t you want your necklace back?”

The reeds shake in the wind, and one of the blossoms brushes along your cheek as it falls into your crouched lap. Your breathing is tense enough to almost hide the little mumble that reaches back. It’s soft, sweet like dripping honey, and makes your whole spine tingle. “We want.”

If you had any less sense, you’d probably run right back home. But the idea of moving is too terrifying, so you’re stuck rooted in place as you take a breath. The voice sounds young enough, but the Japanese is distinctly older than your own dialect, rolling off the tongue with a vague foreign lilt— and it takes your frightened brain a little longer than you want to process that the voice isn’t simply human. When another little splash sounds a bit closer, you pull your outstretched hand back to your chest. “Can you see me?” Your own voice wavers when trying to make out any shape in the river. Alas, it’s just so dark that any further effort hurts your eyes.

“Yes.”

“I’ve come to give back your necklace. I got scared and took it, I’m sorry. I mean no harm-”

“He told.” The voice is unbearably clear. Almost like it’s being spoken directly into your head, even though it’s just a mere whisper among the rippling water. It’s distracting, and feels ice cold between your ears.

“Who’s he?” you try, biting your lip. The river seems to stare back at you, and you can’t do anything but hope you aren’t making some horrible mistake. Are you supposed to talk to the monsters that go bump in the night? “I- I don’t know where you are, I can’t see you.” Despite the soft, gentle nature of the voice, your heart patters wildly, unable to let go of your fear when there’s another closer splash. You must only be a dozen feet away from each other now, and still you can’t even see past the water at your toes. The voice stays quiet for a while.

“You don’t see is … better.”

You don’t respond for even longer. But for whatever reason, you almost want to agree. Not seeing, he almost sounds like a childhood friend of yours. The soft, honeyed words aren’t so frightening when you can’t see what they’re being spoken by; and you gather your last bit of courage to softly open your palm out again towards the night. “I’ll throw it over to you. Can you catch it?”

“No ‘throw’.” The -whatever- struggles with the word as he says it, before going quiet. You’re not sure if he doesn’t want you to throw it, or he simply doesn’t understand— so you just bite your lip and wait for any further comments that eventually do follow. “You put paw- h-hand.” Then, after another breath, “Come.” With a slight tremble in your voice, you breathe out a little laugh. You are really being asked to be braver than any girl with sense would— dragging your lantern closer over the pebbles until it’s right by your feet. Cursing yourself, you blink back nervous tears, trembling as you hike up the edge of your skirts, just the tiniest bit, and place only one foot into the shallowest part of the river for stability.

Your hand drops halfway outstretched, and you watch the flame where she glints back on the chain.

More splashing makes way for a more disturbing sound once it surfaces, of a body dragging over the shallow of the river towards you, scraping along the blunt stones— and you almost dart away when the sound comes close enough to reach. But your fingertips are almost frozen solid when another hand comes ever faintly into view, and wetness drops into your palm. To call it a hand is gracious, you decide. There’s longer digits, clawed, and webbed between each bony finger, and the wet glossy skin is more curved spike than thumb. The paw slides carefully along your hand, swiping up the chain as it goes— and leaves a cold coating all over your palm that you snatch back too quickly.

It’s unbearable to stay so close to something and not see it now, and you quickly hurry back to the safety of your rock as the same shuffling goes back to the water. Your heartbeat’s in your throat, and you can’t find any polite words to offer it until the yokai speaks again.

“Rin present, with- no, f-for you. You give present back, make happy. I am thank you.” You’re welcome, you think, but you barely manage to paint on a little smile before wringing your hands together and picking your lantern back up for safekeeping.

“I’m heading home now. If I’m not back soon my guards will find out.” It doesn’t feel entirely appropriate to thank it for not killing you when it had ample chance to, so you stay quiet. But there’s also a sense of gratitude that washes over you. Soon you’ll be back in bed like all of this was a dream. That seems right. That seems good. Your tongue lingers on your words. “You … What's your name?” The river bank feels much safer now you’re back on solid ground, and you can see the peach blossoms you almost slipped on.

There’s another long pause, where you almost make a run for it back all the way home, before the voice sounds out again from the dark— sugary sweet in its tone.

“Makoto.”

You’re pretty sure you should be questioning your own sanity. Everyone else wouldn’t hesitate to, and after the few restless nights you’ve had, you should be staying as far away as you can. But curiosity, mixed with a slight sense of obligation, has you walking the river bank like a little droplet flowing back to the sea. The quiet, scruffy man following behind doesn’t say much… never does, and you can’t say you dislike it. But you feel the glances your way, distracting you. Soon you find yourself clearing your voice. “You’re wondering why I’m walking this same path again?”

The older man only hesitates for a moment. “No, lady.”

“Sure you are. I would wonder if I were you.” There’s a faint smile that makes its way up, glancing out over the babbling brook to your left as grass tickles your ankles. “Not too long now and I’ll be engaged…” The peach blossoms above are almost done blooming— and you’ve never known your father to be an indecisive man. “Walking gives me a little break from all the fussing attendants, and father's advisors. Which is why it’d be even better if I were alone-”

It doesn’t take much pushback at all for the man to stop in place and give you a little look, resting his hand on the handle of his sword. “Lady.”

“Oh, please Azuma-san, we’ve had this same conversation for years.”

“I am not to leave you unprotected-”

You turn on your heel to face him. “I want to swim.” The stubborn frown on his face doesn’t move an inch, as your eyes go a little more puppy-esque. You have to know, so you have to lie. It doesn’t bring you joy either, but you might go insane if you have to live with questions for the next twenty years barred in some fancy prison of your future husband’s making. “-Swim right here. Without my very expensive clothing getting ruined.” Still that stone wall refuses to budge, and you throw your last bit of dignity into the ring. If this was anyone else you’d never hear the end of your unrefined words. “So I am going to get undressed.”

“—Ag-lright, just quiet. Your servants hear you and I’ll be lynched in the square.” He sighs deeply, rubbing his hand over his scruff, then gives a little bow. He wants nothing more than to roll his eyes when you offer back a self-satisfied grin, but instead takes a few steps the way you came with a stern look. “I’ll ask one of your maiden servants to make her way over here.”

“Don’t tell her to hurry!” you chant back, only taking off the heaviest layer of clothing once he’s out of sight. You lay it safe out of reach, before kicking off your shoes and socks and waddling towards the big stones again. Sure enough, the river here is a lot deeper than it looks. There’s a ledge in the pool that’s dark enough for almost any kind of monster to hide. This at least means your midnight escape wasn’t a total delusion. The peaceful sway of water grass settles when you dip your toes in the water, and wonder. There’s only a brief few minutes where you sit to think, before a slight thrashing once again captures your attention.

Only when you look up, the river is still, safe for a few tiny fish jumping out of the water. You get up, and tie your skirts up higher to inspect. A large maroon shape darts away into the darkness before you can take a good look, splashing droplets all over the river bank— and you hold your breath. You aren’t crazy. That definitely was much larger than any fish you’ve ever seen, and such a brilliant color that nothing but yokai could possess it. Brighter than all the finest silks, shimmering like a mirror. You wait for what could be a few seconds or an hour, before… someone- something else starts coming up from the darkness.

The olive-golden glitter rises so slow you have no choice but to take in another breath, but luckily don’t scare it away. His light chestnut hair is chopped short-ish, and a strangely human face— with cloudy black eyes, and green gashes either side of his neck— where he hovers below the water surface. It’s not human though. The eyes are big, round and deer-like, nose flatter, and his skin seems almost pearlescent. You don’t have the ability to think if you’re brave or just frozen solid. But whatever the case, the humanesque monster seems to stare for quite a while before judging it safe enough to approach.

It’s only then that you get to see the full extent of his body, scaled from ribs down, with a snake-like bottom half that’s at least longer than your entire body, and ending in a beautiful fish-like tail that feathers out in glittering threads. “Oh…” you breathe, and your arms wrap around yourself for protection, but you still don’t move further. Can’t, more like.

The half-man is close enough -and real enough- to feel a bit nauseating. Close enough to set every hair on your body on end and have your heartbeat a wild patter. But it’s the voice that really makes you feel frigid, gulping for air when that soothing tone comes out of a monstrous mouth. Whatever you had expected to see… wasn’t this. You can’t make out if the near-resemblance is comforting, or more frightening. You shiver at the black tongue, against porcelain white teeth.

“You come back.”

Your nod is hesitant, and you fidget with your jewelry in an attempt to calm your nerves. “I- wanted to see who I’d been talking to, that night. I haven’t slept well since then.”

He hoists himself a little further out of the water onto both hands, clawed and boney. “That was you, right? Makoto?” The brunet only gives a single nod of response, and doesn’t take his dark eyes off you for a second. And you want to laugh, though it isn’t too funny. The scene is just so absurd that you have nothing else to do, but laugh. “Isn’t this weird, talking to each other? How come yokai speak Japanese?” your voice comes, and you only hear how childish you sound when it seems to hang over the river without answer.

Out of all the questions you can ask, that’s what is most important to you? Makoto is gracious as he scoots a little closer once again, scraping his long, heavily muscled tail up over the pebbles and stones. “I listen very many year. Always listen, listen woman, listen warrior, listen you.” He blinks, and blondish lashes are the only normality you have staring back at him. “All can’t speak like me. I -hmm, pras-”

“Practice?” you try, and he clearly agrees when his tail pats happily on the ground. When you smile, he grins back wide and kind, his teeth are much sharper than yours. There’s something so human about the look, that you feel your muscles unwind a little further. You suppose, if he wasn’t so strange looking, with the wrong shades and fins here and there; he’d be quite handsome. He’d go over well with the maiden servants in the clan, too. “Many years, huh? Then- How old are you?”

“Hmmm- old. Very…” He doesn’t seem it, though. You avert your eyes when the water flicks over your feet, slowly dropping your shoes to the side. When you look back, he’s gotten closer yet, and is reaching out his hand towards the edge of the water, towards you. Despite your hesitation, and slight disgust— scaly and seemingly frost bitten pale lips, and unnatural greenish marks along his neck that flare out and in— there’s something that makes you want to follow.

A call, or instinct, to glide into the water and feel it embrace you. “You want come in?” he prompts, softly, and you do. You aren’t much of a swimmer even in high summer, and yet. You find yourself closing the distance and reaching out for his hand, letting your fingertips glide along as you get up to your knees into the water, and then get pulled along further step by unsure step. “Good, come.”

“Ah- it’s cold!” you squeak, but Makoto’s fingers wrap around your hand to support you even when you get almost up to your chest into the river, water crawling up your clothing and making your chest feel tight. “Sh- it's so cold.”

“Water not cold. You warm.” Only when he comes up in front of you do you truly notice how much bigger he is. His hands dwarf yours, and even though you’re higher up, his tail is curved aside to fit on the ground so he stares down at you— covering the sun from your view. He towers over any man you’ve ever seen, and his human-esque top half is still much broader than most. Like a hard plane of muscle, marked with thousands of golden freckles that shift in color the longer you look.

Shivers climb up your legs, and the water seeps your energy out of you. Wrapping your free arm around yourself, you rub some heat into your skin. Those pale lashes flutter as he gives you a half lidded glance, and the freckles that also go across his cheeks color a little more amber. “Lady is … cute.” Large hands suddenly slide along your sides up, before dragging over your shoulders and slowly taking your clothing with it, removing one of a few layers as he leans in. “Here, better without.”

“Oh. No- I don’t- think-”

“Shhh. Better, I know,” he seems to get closer, even though you are too busy staring back into the darkness of his eyes to really notice; and let him untie the robes enough to toss it towards the water edge. Then he pauses, and gets up higher onto his coiled tail to pull another layer off and throw it. Until you’re left standing in only your flimsier linen undergarb, and you’re suddenly much too aware of how peaked your nipples are against the scratchy fabric. But his hands slide up along your thighs to start peeling that off too, when you grab for him and shake your head.

Makoto insists. “No cold when not -this.” His hands keep going up even with your pressure on them.

Having a night encounter with a man is one thing, but you don’t know how you’d ever explain this if someone saw. You can’t dart away in a flash and escape the consequences. You have to go home after this. “I need my clothes to go back—” you quickly beg, ignoring the soft pads of his fingers along your upper thighs, “and if people see- Makoto, please.” Your whole body aches with the cold, and though the touch feels nice, it doesn’t seem right. Your nakedness isn’t a simple thing, even if his is.

“Clothes heavy. Water don’t like clothes.” He turns you around and you lose your footing on the stable flooring, arms quickly clinging onto his wide shoulders for support— it does make his point. Your clothes are incredibly heavy soaked, and pull down on you as strong arms ever so slowly wrap around your waist; nose only a few inches from yours. You can’t help it, your face gets hot. Cheeks, ears, nose- everything starts getting a distracting warm glow that you do your best to ignore, pulling your lip between your teeth. Even so, he seems to look down at you with intrigue, water reflecting in the black of his eyes. “What?”

“You’re very close…” you confess, and also try to release some of the tightness of your embrace— but amusement only brings him closer. He tilts his head, before leaning in until your foreheads meet, and the cooler skin consumes you. “Makoto-sama-”

“Human kiss, hm?” He’s so close, and his mouth is right there -and though you have no clue why, you really want to. The thought is almost as real as the air you breathe, feeling his hands roam all over your body through the soaked linen. Your voice doesn’t make it out when you nod, but he still lifts you into his chest, and your fingertips dig into his shoulders instinctively. “Show me how to kiss? You little one -hmm- good- fit.” You can’t help it, in place of physical heat there’s a sort of aching fire that spreads through your limbs the longer you stay close— and once you start you can’t stop.

Your mouth meets his first, lips moving with yours as his arms squeeze tighter; but when your tongue brushes his lips and meets his, he makes a noise. A low sort of purring that rattles his chest, and has him leaning in harder, trying to bury you into his body as your tongues brush and you suck and moan. His taste is mild but his tongue is heavy, and much longer than yours when it slips further into your mouth. Much longer, bigger, and the wetness soon has you feeling like you can’t breathe.

You pull back with a gasp, staring at the way his long tongue brushes along those sharp teeth before he leans in more. “Again.” You try to make some separation between your two bodies, but clearly Makoto doesn’t care for it when he clamps his hand down around your hip and kisses you more, melting to you as his tongue brushes against yours. He kisses like you’re the first and last thing he’s tasted, even when you moan a little whimper at the lack of air. His cold skin prickles against yours, grinding his waist against you slowly as your head pounds. Still, it feels good.

You don’t ever want to leave— and it’s this exact feeling that has you pulling back for air. You must be out of your mind. He stares with a blown out sort of hunger when you say his name again, and run your fingers along his shoulders up a little. “I’m going to get in trouble if someone finds me here- and- it’s not like we can—” Your cheeks get even hotter when you try to say the words, not even sure if he’d understand. Does a yokai’s understanding include human nighttimes? When he shows no intention of putting you down, you bury your face into his chest, feeling even smaller than before.

Though his skin is cold to the touch, there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two, almost impossible to ignore— and the way you’re positioned against him, large arms caging you against his waist that pushes into you— doesn’t help anything. You can feel yourself get more slick each time you move your legs. He seems to chuckle when you groan- and as if sensing your train of thought, he rubs his nose along your ear and down the sensitive of your neck with a lower voice. “I want see. Human body so little. Want see it.”

That’s the tipping point. Every fiber in your being aches to obey, to let yourself get touched, seen, taken by him— and your mouth drops open a sliver as you struggle to find words. Your feet can’t reach the bottom here, and Makoto seems content to keep rubbing against you in a slow sea-saw motion that makes your center feel entirely hot. And eventually you crack. Blinking up at him, you breathe a faint “okay”, and let him turn you around. His hands are quick in their exploration, sliding under the last layer up your thighs, squeezing every few inches as he goes up. When he gets to your center, there’s a little flutter of his eyes, before those digits slide in and brush over your pussy, rubbing just soft enough to leave you wanting. “Warm,” he breathes, and then pulls you a little closer. “You do me too.”

As he pushes your last layer of clothing open fully and starts sliding it off your shoulders, you allow yourself just a little curiosity. He’s handsome, and he’s close, and you just feel so needy. Your breathing is still short against his chest, but your numb fingers glide down his sides with purpose as the muscles flex under your touch. His chest rumbles when you whine at the prodding and circling of his fingers around your dripping pussy, and you glide your hands down to his tail. The touch feels a little coarse, but he’s warmer there, and when you rub your palm over the area he’d been grinding into your waist, your fingers feel a softer, spongey slit. Makoto hisses when you rub a finger up and down, and you feel more heat burn onto your face. “Here?”

The question is answered when your finger slips in and is all hot, and something bumps you. But he picks you up and with one swift dash, lays you down on the river bank to get up between your legs. You need to open wide to allow him to fit, and can only whine out his name when the weight of his body over yours pushes you into the cold stones. He licks the air a few times, before grunting. You wish you could do anything other than just flush and look away when his hands descend onto your tits and start touching and rubbing, and the pressure leaves you all exposed. But it doesn’t take long for his attention to shift back to between your legs, and now with a better angle, he sinks down to nose below your navel. “Hmn-”

The purring is paired with a flaring of the gashes on his neck, and his eyes roll back. When his hands spread your legs up as wide as you can go, he nuzzles into you, and that long black tongue peeks out to lick slowly. You can’t help it, you moan. Loudly. It feels like a million pinpricks are traveling your body, as the very long, heavy tongue drags a long strip up your center, and then the tip of it laps at the wetness coating your hole— that quickly gets pushed open further with each sloppy lick. His tongue pushes inside you as he sucks and the feeling of something so hot and so- squirmy makes you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s too strange, but you can’t pull back.

Your hands even reach for his head to tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, your back curling from the floor. You’re drenched- no longer just water as your pussy clenches around his tongue that he forces in to lick places you’ve never been licked. Makoto wraps an arm around your thigh to pull it over his shoulder when you curl and wiggle against him- you can’t help it, it feels so good. Everything’s so sensitive, like your entire body’s been doused into hot water and you’re drowning— only difference is, you’re actively longing for more.

It’s better than any drink-induced daze, late night tussle with a stable boy. It’s even better than your own touch and mind, because he’s just so big and you’re so full, so hot. Your hips grind against his face when he sucks again, and his nose brushes your most sensitive area— and try not to let the water into your mouth when you yerk again. “Ah, ahg, Makoto-sama. I can’t- I can’t handle this much, please. Oh dear gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Ah-ughhh, f- ah, please -keep going.”

Your lower belly is wound so tight, and even the sound of his breathing against you feels good. You could melt into the floor with how much slick is coating your insides, dripping out of you around the suction on your cunt. And Makoto doesn’t have any intention of moving. Your mind aches— you want more. You want to wrap your entire body around him and come apart— as his large hands squeeze your thighs tight and wrap them around his head like he can’t get deep enough.

The sloppy, wet sounds of his face burying between your legs to stuff you full of tongue, licking and sucking at your sensitive pussy. It has your muscles so tight as you roll your hips against him, and you can’t stop shaking. “Oh, I’m g-gonna cum— I can’t! I can’t. It feels so- gud. Ah, ahh. What is happening?” When your fingers clench in his hair, he lets out a long, animalistic groan as he glances back up. Still his tongue isn’t fully inside you. “I can’t- Makoto, I can’t!” Even though he’s reaching further than fingers can, he’s still able to fold the deft black muscle over your clit and slot his lips around it to suck. Hard.

And your body can’t handle any more. While his heartbeat pulses through his tongue against your clit, everything goes white, your muscles clenching so hard it hurts. And your heart beats so hard it feels like it stops altogether. If you make any noise at all, you can’t hear yourself over the pounding in your head, rattling your body so hard that nothing except you and him exist. Your eyes are shut until you’re aware of how he grunts against you and pinpricks get too unbearable. But he doesn’t stop, lifting your body to his face and allowing you to ride out your orgasm against him for what feels like forever.

When you feel like you can hear yourself breathe again, you unwrap your legs from around his head. “I thought my heart was going to explode. If Hitsu knew…”

Your eyes are teary when they flutter open against the light, and the black abysses that stare back are barely narrowed slits. Dipping his gills into water briefly before getting up above you again, Makoto seems different. There’s something predatory that wasn’t there before. You can’t help but go quiet. As his hands drag your body down a few inches, you swallow. “Are you okay? Sorry. I feel like I should thank you— I haven’t come that hard, ever. I don’t know about yokai but I don’t think I could feel that good.” His muscular body covers most of the river from your view, but you find it almost too hard to look at him. You’re still hot; but your skin feels cold.

His fingers slide down along your side when he lets out a little groan. “Yokai don’t do this.” Then he goes to brush his face and mouth along your throat, and you shiver a little at the feeling. “So pretty. Warm. I like warm. Stay with me?” You let him grind himself on top of you and embrace him the best you can, only fitting around the narrow of his waist, but after just a second you yerk up. Makoto pulls his head back when he notices, and you get another brush against your slit that makes a cold shiver run up your spine. Where the slit sat before, a dick has emerged- and your mouth drops open a little. The thing is vaguely dick shaped, but has spurs at the base like an anchor, is more pointed at the tip; and it also pulses with each breath.

“Pretty warm body, good. Smell good too.”

You can’t help but swear when you avert your eyes, and instead wrap your arms back around his neck. “Oh, fuck.” Surely, this is where you’d draw the line. Right? But the touching of that against you doesn’t make your body react the way you think it should. The prodding along your inner thighs just leaves you feeling empty, like you’d like to start all over again. Makoto grunts out a little breath when your tits brush his chest, before staring down at you.

After a few seconds of studying your face, and probably the heat that’s flooding your features, he licks his lips. “Human men have… hm-”

“Yes,” you quickly say. He smacks his lips and grinds against you again. “They uhm- put it inside.” If the answer shocks him, he certainly doesn’t show it— looking like he’s barely holding back from crashing his face back to yours and turning you over to fuck you like the begging whore you feel like. The longer he just keeps his solid body against yours, the harder it is to ignore yourself getting wet again against the pulsing of his cock. The purring, clicking noise coming from him feels nice, and you pull at him. “You’re not done yet, right? I can do more.”

You angle your hips a little, and try not to sound so desperate when looking up at him for a kiss. “Please- put it inside me. I- I want to feel you.” Your hands slide over the rougher scales down between you two to reach for him, and hesitate a little when his cock is heavy and covered in some sort of slime; and it seems to follow your touch. But you’re too far past embarrassment to truly care, and Makoto groans when you wrap your fingers around him to squeeze softly. “I need you.” You really don’t know what’s wrong with you. You feel like your body’s being torn apart. You want to be filled, fucked full of him, and get pumped round of his kids— all things that you shouldn’t be thinking about. You didn’t with any men you’ve been with. You can’t.

Even though you know you’re being ludicrous, when he goes in for a kiss, you cling onto him hard; digging your nails into his back. You don’t even know if he could fit. His cock is proportionate to him- but it’s big and long and girthy enough to put any man to shame. You should care. You should care that you could regret being filled up to your breaking point, but you’re just so, so desperate. You might die if he doesn’t fuck you. You can feel it. “Please, please, please—”

—You slide a few feet across the floor, angry thrashing scaring you up into a flounder as you breathe in deeply. Makoto’s dragged off of you and down before you can even blink, water splashing everywhere; and you struggle back to the riverbank with wide eyes. Now you’re no longer side by side with another person- no, creature- you suddenly feel the entire ache of the cold water. The shortness of breath, the numbness of your lips and hands and feet. You feel the painful sting of your back where you’ve been sliced by a dozen sharp rocks, struggling to keep your head above water. And you feel the soreness between your legs of having been filled by something too big.

When you get over the pure shock, you notice the struggling has stopped, and you notice your creature’s golden shape next to someone else. They glitter and glint even in the low light of the afternoon, and you furrow your brows. The second shape only gets clearer when the light shines through the water and colors the flickers a blinding maroon. Your tongue feels cold.

Your arms wrap over your chest and cover up the best you can when Makoto surfaces again and gives you a kind smile, but you take a slight step back. His long, pale lashes flutter when he reaches out a hand. “Sorry. Rin don’t want to bleed you.” Your back and your painful scrapes are the lesser of your worries though. Whatever spell you were under, you’ve been snapped out of. You feel entirely strange- enough to have hot tears welling up along your waterline. What the hell have you been dragged into? You were going to… do things with some monster you didn’t know existed until today. Your brain screams and pounds, and your stomach is entirely flipped. But the brunet softly continues. “He don’t like I take you. Can you come here?”

“No.” Your hair now sticks to your neck and chest, and every second you’re out of the water, is one where the feeling comes back to your limbs. Your arms are so heavy as you keep them up. “There’s more of you?” You don’t know what you expected, really. Maybe you should have known. Maybe you should have questioned. But how could you have truly known?

“Yes.” he answers after a beat, and swims up a little closer with a frightening ease. “Shhh, okay. He will come. You stay.” You try to tell him not to, but he dips below the water surface before you get the chance to ask him not to, splashing water all over as he does— and you don’t know what else to do but to stare at the small bubbles that pop as peach blossoms wash over your feet. Before too long, the reddish shape surfaces alongside Makoto. He lingers in the deep of the river however; fiery eyes zeroing in on you without blinking at all. He stays submerged from the nose down, and you can’t help but feel too watched.

Your heartbeat doesn’t calm when the brunet swims up closer, and you take a little breath. “Who’s that?”

“Rin,” Makoto softly, sweetly answers, as if he was expecting the question all along. He smiles wide like a saint, and you have to ignore the voice in the back of your head that tells you to get back in the water. His hand reaches out though, and you almost want to. Almost. Your arms and back break out in goosebumps. Then Makoto looks back at the other yokai, and gives you a smiley once-over. It takes you a little too long to recognize something else that plays over his features though. A strange sort of knowing, like he’s seeing right through you. “You Rin’s mate.”

You don’t know why you don’t get up and run.

“Come back in?”

Only that the voice in the back of your head gets more unbearable. You wrap your hands over your ears, and try to hang on.

#makoto x reader #free x reader #free! makoto #free! smut #makoto smut #tw.dubcon #tw.monsterfucking #tw.size kink #tw.yandere #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.makoto

1K notes · View notes

seradyn · 1 year ago

Text

A Dream Come True (Chp. 11)

Finally, after 6 months

Chapter 11/35: A Daring Dance For Two

Date time with our daemon man. Get ready for long conversations and some backstory for our reader 😌

Extra long to make up for the back to back hiatuses >.<

Link to work Masterlist

Word Count: 11,052

TW: Childhood trauma

Tags: @savage-rhi @blossom-adventures @ticklemycucumber

Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in updates

———————————————————————

The library looked dark, decrepit when it was closed. There was no light coming from the overhead windows, no welcoming gust of warm air to greet you. Closing was one of your least favorite parts of the job, but it was a necessity. You tugged on the front door’s handles experimentally and, of course, the lock held without much effort. Satisfied, you dropped the keys into your bag, turning your back to the old, withered building.

You shivered into your coat, the kiss of winter’s breath turning the tip of your nose red. The temperature was only continuing to drop, much to your dismay. The frosty wind sunk deeply into your clothes, cutting through them like jelly. The pinpricks on your skin had you rushing to find warmth someplace else.

“Ah, there she is. And here I thought you’d keep me waiting.”

You paused, smiling at the teasing voice. You’d almost forgotten. Turning, you found the owner a short distance away.

Ardyn was leaning against one of the great pillars holding up the awning, head tilted down and arms crossed, one leg laced over the other. You could see he still wore that smug, sly expression, directed at the ground with lidded eyes, as if it had been bold enough to comment on the soles of his boots.

You shook your head at him. “I’m sorry,” you said, wondering how long he’d been standing there. “They don’t like to let me off easy.”

He looked up then, his calculating, omnipotent eyes drinking in your form. They, too, held that smirk just as well as his lips.

“I only jest,” he reassured. He pushed off from the pillar, beckoning you after him with a wave of his hand. “Come, my dear. I’ve parked just around the corner.”

You fell into step at his side, a brisk pace to keep up with his longer strides. You stole a breath of the sweet tinge of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and cinnamon. You wondered how much it cost; probably more than your biweekly paycheck.

“So, where are we going?” You asked, keeping up as he took a sharp left down the block, passing the startled faces of the sparse citizenry, who gave a wide berth in their chancellor’s wake.

“Ah, ah,” Ardyn tutted. “That would spoil the surprise.”

“Oh, a surprise?” You asked in wonder, smiling at the thought. You were already curious about what he had in store for you, but now you were even more so.

Ardyn returned your excitement with a grin of his own. “I think you’ll find it quite to your liking.”

“Is that so?” You said playfully, throwing him one of your own smirks.

“Consider it a guarantee,” he purred, grinning in a way that told you his confidence was not merely for show. He took the lead as you came up on a row of neatly parked cars at the end of the street.

You had to swallow a giggle when you saw which car he gravitated to, swinging open the passenger door for you. It certainly suited its owner, just as ardent as he was. A convertible colored dark maroon, much like Ardyn’s hair, with a white race stripe down the middle. A moogle pom pom had been stuck on the antenna, making the vehicle look almost comically whimsical. The top was down, revealing wine colored upholstery to match the paint job.

“Your chariot, my dear,” he hummed as you approached his car.

“Ever the gentleman,” you replied, settling into the red leather seat, the door slamming closed behind you. You paused, closing your eyes in a deep, silent sigh while his scent swallowed you whole, taking you captive with near overwhelming sweetness. Another wave of it washed over you as Ardyn took his place in the driver's seat, the engine humming to life not long after. Soon, you’d merged into traffic, and the library disappeared into the rear view mirror.

A comfortable silence filled the car, the wind whipping through your hair as you were enraptured by the sights that passed you by in a blur, one of restless crowds and neon signs. Each one an invitation, a trap laid simply, only willing to release those from their clutches whose purses had been emptied. You hadn’t the gil to entertain those desires, so you hadn’t seen much of Gralea’s famed nightlife, save for the trip you’d recently taken in its shadows. Even that had been different; most of it had died down by then. Now, you had a chance to experience it in its purest form, with someone who was undoubtedly versed in its culture. It almost felt like going to another country.

Meanwhile, Ardyn was humming away beside you, carefree as he drove you to his ‘surprise’. You smiled even wider when you recognized it as the song associated with the bright yellow birds you adored. You hadn’t taken Ardyn as a chocobo person, but the thought had you biting your tongue to stop yourself from giggling. This was the man you were afraid of not three days ago?

Perhaps there was hope for you yet.

Soon enough, it seemed Ardyn got bored of silence, and decided to fill it with his own voice instead.

“So, tell me,” He began, the words beckoning your attention away from the view. “How long have you been looking after Gralea’s biggest library?”

“Oh, only a few years,” you said, surprised by his interest. “Got recruited right out of college, and I’ve been there since. This’ll be my fourth year working there.”

“Truly? It seems I’ve been missing out, locked in my ivory tower. Tragic, really.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, looking back out the lowered window so he couldn’t see you blushing. “I’m sure I’m no better than the last one. Besides, we can’t change the past,” you said honestly. “There’s no use in worrying about it.”

“Indeed we can’t,” Ardyn said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We are simply forced to live with the consequences.”

You looked back at him after hearing the last word, the creeping darkness that had seeped into it just below the surface. The corner of his mouth twitched, his smile becoming strained as his grip around the wheel tightened. Though it wasn’t long before he remembered to compose himself, those brief emotions tucked away, for now.

Even though he didn’t say it, you knew you’d struck some kind of nerve. A stab of guilt creeped into your heart; you hadn’t meant to upset him. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, he interrupted you, smirking as the car slowed.

“Ah, here we are,” Ardyn murmured, pulling his car in front of a building that stretched far into the sky. Deciding to let the previous exchange go, you gazed up at it as the engine died, wondering how many floors there were. A million, you thought in hyperbole, unclasping your seatbelt as Ardyn departed from his vehicle. Before you could even reach for the handle, he was there, opening the door for you and holding out his hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you said as you placed your hand in his, his fingers curling delicately around your own. He gracefully pulled you onto the sidewalk, looking down at you with fond, half lidded eyes, your door falling closed behind you with a thud.

“Of course, my dearest,” he cooed, releasing your hand and offering up his arm in its place. You looked between him and it for a moment, before you snickered at his gentlemanly nature. You wrapped your hands around his strong forearm, and he began to lead you towards the looming skyscraper.

Between you and said building, a sizable crowd was loitering, the atmosphere filled with an energetic buzz that was almost suffocating. The street was awash with their laughter and conversations, made more boisterous as some teased drunkenness, booze flowing freely from somewhere unseen.

Not your type of people, if you were being honest, but usually you weren’t one to let such things bother you.

Usually.

It was as you got closer you realized how much different you were to these people. Not just in mannerism; it was obvious in something as simple as your state of dress. You weren’t someone who was big on expensive designer products, but even you could name some of the brands their garments oozed. Not only that, but there seemed to be only two options among them when it came to outfits; freshly pressed suits, or flowing, iridescent gowns. There was no in between, not a hint of anything casual to be found.

And you’d just come from work. You were in street clothes.

Being led towards the gathering by the imperial chancellor no less.

Your arrival hasn’t gone unnoticed, either. It didn’t surprise you that the chancellor’s presence was one to turn heads, but that fact was slightly more mortifying when you were practically hanging off him. Your eyes flicked from face to face, watching the raised eyebrows, the bewildered stares when they saw Ardyn’s company, no doubt questioning his choice of companionship. You wondered how truely low their opinion was of you, when they didn’t even have to pause their conversations to pass silent judgment.

You huddled closer to Ardyn, trying to find some semblance of comfort in his presence, even while he seemed none the wiser to their scrutiny.

“Are you…sure this is okay?” You asked meekly, staring out at the high class gathering around you. You wondered if it would tarnish his reputation, being seen with someone so much lower than him, even if he didn’t believe that himself. Surely word would get out he’d been seen with someone like you.

Ardyn, whom you would’ve considered observant before, seemed completely oblivious to the weird looks the two of you were getting. He rather appeared quite jovial, smirking at nothing in particular, like he’d been welcomed with a standing ovation.

“Hmm?” He hummed happily, an eyebrow going up at your question. “Is there a problem, my dear?”

“N-no, it’s just - ” you looked at the ground in shame, fearing your woe sounded juvenile. Your social anxiety was bad enough with Ardyn alone, but in crowds, being the center of attention made you want to jump out of your own skin. You just hoped you weren’t embarrassing him. “I’m not exactly…well dressed for the occasion.”

Ardyn hummed again, looking out at the gathering as if just now noticing them. Something darkened his features, sinister and wicked, as he continued to smile while locking eyes with the boldest of the bunch. A silent challenge for them to dare question whose company he chose to share.

The nobles all quickly looked away, smart enough to fear the chancellor’s wrath.

“Should there be any…complaints,” his lips curled even higher, making him almost look malicious. “I shall deal with them personally.”

You had no idea what he meant by that, but you heard the seriousness in his voice. He wasn’t bluffing. Knowing he was willing to stand up for you, you eased out a tense breath, nodding in thanks.

The people standing close to the glass double doors scurried away as you reached the building, Ardyn opening them so you could both enter. Your muscles relaxed when you were finally out from under the noble’s unabashed prying eyes.

Which didn’t last long, unfortunately. The inside wasn’t much different from the outside. A dark restaurant laid out before you, undoubtedly where the outside patrons had gotten their drinks. Standing tables littered the room, there wasn’t a chair in sight. It reminded you of the cocktail parties you’d seen on TV.

You’d never actually been to one of those.

The bar was taking up the entirety of the left wall. Bottles of all different colors and shapes decorated it, the glass reflecting the orange glow of the dim ceiling lamps. They were completely swamped by the looks of it, there weren’t any open stools. To make it worse for the staff, the people in here matched the ones outside; dressed nicely, and making enough noise to drown out the decades-old music that was playing overhead. You watched the wait staff as they darted around skillfully, only stopping to place drinks or small plates of food down before whisking away to the next table.

You hoped they got good tips.

You figured this restaurant was the reason Ardyn brought you here, but he didn’t even flinch as he led you past it all, heading for an elevator in the very back you hadn’t seen before. Without a word, he pressed the ‘up’ button, grinning at the slight look of confusion on your face.

The elevator slid open with a cheerful ding, and Ardyn ushered you on. It was empty, much to your relief, meaning you wouldn’t be pressed up against him. He pushed a button for a high floor, something in the 60’s, ascending as soon as the door closed again.

Awkward silences were becoming a common thing between the two of you, and the slow, jazzy elevator music only made it worse. Your fingers instinctively flexed around Ardyn’s arm, your breathing sounded deafening in your ears as anxiety began to spin its web around your heart. You should’ve been excited, but what had transpired outside left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn’t help feeling you didn’t belong. You could only imagine the place Ardyn was taking you had the same kind of clientele, their judgeful eyes seeing you as an easy target. An entire meal feeling like an insect under a microscope sounded miserable.

Something brushed over the top of your knuckles, pulling you back to reality. Looking down, you watched as Ardyn rested his free hand atop your own, giving your fingers a light squeeze of reassurance.

“You needn’t be so nervous,” he said quietly. Soothingly. “You’ve nothing to prove to me.”

You were silent for a moment, the gentleness in his voice pulling your gaze upward. He was smiling at you. Softly, sweetly…like he cared.

“All I ask is that you be yourself.”

Heh. Yourself.

When was the last time you were yourself?

Not since you were little, you realized. And what a sad thought that was.

Did you even know who you really were anymore?

Not really. It had been beaten out of you long ago. Your parents used it as an excuse to abuse you, your friends an excuse to exclude you. You’d decided it was better to keep it under lock and key, keep it hidden and guarded. Even someone as close to you as Satus could only say he saw part of it. It’d been years, but those wounds were still red and swollen.

In its place, you became an expert at crafting masks. If one friend group wanted you to act one way, you could, and another for a different group. If your parents expected you to be their pauper princess, then you could be so, to an extent. If your best friend said something you didn’t agree with, you found it hard to voice a dispute.

The poisonous flower of rejection had festered for years, building a cage of weaving roots around what you might call yourself.

And some part of you didn’t think you were wholly undeserving of those lashes.

You blinked, the memories causing your eyes to go misty. You swallowed the lump in your throat, wondering how long you’d been struggling with Ardyn’s statement. He was still waiting. Patiently, his gentle smile never left his face as he waited for an answer. His tolerance was surprising.

Perhaps…Ardyn was different. Maybe his request didn’t come with concealed expectations.

That was enough to give you a sliver of hope.

“…Okay,” you said, meeting his eyes. “I’ll…try.”

Arden nodded approvingly, giving your hand another squeeze. “That’s all I can ask.”

The rest of the elevator ride was in silence, both of you watching the glowing red numbers above the door count up.

While you hoped you weren’t getting too ahead of yourself…

The elevator dinged again, announcing that you'd arrived, the numbers now reading 64. The doors slid open, Ardyn stepping out with you as soon as they finished.

It was much brighter up here, which you appreciated. Ornate chandeliers dangled from a high ceiling, reflecting off the marble tiles and glass windows. The center of the room had been cut away, allowing you to see down into the lower floors between bars of railing. As you got closer to the edge, you could make out people scurrying around like little worker bees.

Your destination appeared to be along the far wall though, if the long line of people was any indication. Indeed, Ardyn leisurely steered you in that direction, allowing you to take in your surroundings. It was another dimly lit restaurant by the looks of it, although you couldn’t see far inside through the crowd. You just hoped you’d have some illusion of privacy while you dined.

Ardyn breezed past the line, which surprised you at first, before you remembered exactly who you were with. No one would dare make the imperial chancellor wait in a line, of all things. Commoner as you were, it felt quite strange to you, wrong somehow, but you knew it wasn’t your place to say anything. Best to just follow in Ardyn’s lead.

At the threshold, you were finally able to spot a sign displaying the restaurant’s name. When you read it, a small gasp parted your lips.

La Compañera. One of the best, and most expensive restaurants in all of Gralea. Their reservation list was full months in advance, from what you’d heard, and their meals could cost you a week's worth of work. The kind of place everyone knew of, talked about, but few could say they’d ever been. You’d given up on going there yourself, not on a librarian’s salary at least.

This was where Ardyn meant to take you?

You looked up at him with wondrous eyes. He, on the other hand, looked more smug than you’d ever seen him, like the whole of Eos was his to command. He had every right to be, too. It was no wonder he was so confident you’d like his choice for the evening.

“You should learn not to doubt me, dearest,” he said, basking in your amazement. He was enjoying your reaction a great deal.

“I thought you could only get in with a reservation,” you breathed, looking around with astonishment. The place was positively buzzing, a chorus of forks hitting plates and too many conversations to count. As you neared the hostess stand, you could even see a part of the kitchen off to your left, and you were able to hear the sizzling of meat, of pasta turning in a frothy boil. Delicious smelling vapors wafting from its steel appliances, making your mouth water in anticipation.

“Indeed,” Ardyn said cheerfully. “Though you’ll find few are bold enough to enforce such rules in my presence.”

You hummed at that, not doubting it, but wondering how that was going to work out. The restaurant only had so many tables, and if they were all full, him being chancellor wouldn’t mean much.

Your questions were soon answered, as you both stood before the hostess. She was dressed in a suit; white button up with black khakis, hair tied back as she scribbled down the names of arriving parties. You both waited for a moment, you assumed for her to acknowledge you, but instead another woman stepped before you, wearing the same uniform.

“Chancellor Izunia!” She chirped, smiling brightly at him. “It is an honor to serve His Excellency, as always.” She bowed low and deep, hand held daintily over her heart.

“The honor is all mine, Charlette,” Ardyn preened. With a flourishing wave of his hand, he gave his own short bow, which you were quick to copy. Although not before you shot him a questioning look; he knew their names?

“I was hoping to make use of our little arrangement,” he went on, straightening. “I could think of no better place, especially since I am want to entertain a special guest.”

He smirked down at you out of the corner of his eye. You looked away, trying to hide the creeping crimson that invaded your features.

“Of course, Chancellor,” the woman - Charlette - said. Reaching around her coworker, she grabbed two menus from the stand before making her way back into the depths of the restaurant, expecting you to follow. She led you through a wide eating area, dotted with tables dressed in white linens, flickering candles set in the center of each one. The place was huge, and you lost count of how many twists and turns it took to finally reach your table. It wasn’t just any either, tucked into a secluded corner, the angle perfect to keep prying eyes out. The wall it was pushed up against was made entirely of glass, allowing a grand, near endless view of the sprawling metropolis below. Your breath caught in your throat, admiring the sea of speckled lights, like stars swimming in benevolent waters.

You weren’t given much time to admire it though, Ardyn slipping from your grasp to take his seat, forcing you to do the same. The seats were heavy - expensive, you corrected - the wood polished and dark as you settled into it. Your hostess turned waitress placed the menus in front of you, and with a quick flick of her wrist, the candles sprung to life with gentle orange flames. She tucked her lighter into a pocket as she set another small sheet of paper down, the drink menu, you assumed. With that, she was gone, disappearing into the throng of suited staff and pampered guests.

While you unfurled the neatly folded napkin and laid it across your lap, you eyed the silverware dubiously. It seemed each set came with two of each utensil, though a glance at Ardyn’s side of the table told you that was intentional. One bigger, and more square, the other dainty and curved. You may have pondered them longer, had your stomach not given a gentle roll, reminding you you hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

“If you’ll indulge me…” Ardyn said softly, beckoning your eyes upward. He sat with his chin resting on laced fingers, like he was making a decision of utmost importance. “It would be criminal to not let you sample some of their finest Cabernet Sauvignon. A rare find these days; the grapes are grown in Lucis.” Ardyn smirked, leaning back in his chair to lounge as if it were a throne.

You concealed your confusion as best you could. You had no idea what he just said, but he mentioned grapes, so you figured it was wine of some sort.

You’d hoped to avoid this, but you knew it was inevitable. Unfortunately, you’d never really come on to alcohol like most people. In fact, you hated the stuff, grimaced every time its foul taste met your lips. While your peers had been off making fake IDs and clubbing, you were sipping milk teas and reading books on the couch. Thinking back on it, it was really no wonder you weren’t invited to parties.

Of course, you couldn’t tell Ardyn that. It was silly, childish. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself by revealing you couldn’t handle your liquor. As much as it pained you to almost immediately break your promise to him, you couldn’t find the strength to be honest.

Instead, you smiled, meeting his honied eyes. “I’d be delighted,” you said sweetly.

Ardyn’s smirk grew at that. “Splendid. I’ll have them fetch us a bottle when they return.”

“Sounds good,” you said, eyeing the menu. Food seemed much more appealing at the moment. Your stomach gurgled its agreement.

The menu wasn’t big. That was a mark of its quality though, each dish more extravagant than the last. You only recognized a handful of them, but for those you did, you knew they were ones that required a careful hand, and hours of prep work. Things most people didn’t dare trying to make at home, lest they spend all day laboring over a ruined meal.

You’d been worried the place would be too high class to have anything you’d like, picky eater as you were, but it seemed you were in luck. One of their specials was something you’d had before, and it was one of your favorites. Your mother made it when your older sister got her doctorate. The dish had taken the entire day to prepare, but when you all sat down and took a bite, it was more than worth it. You hadn’t had it since then, and the thought of tasting it again brought a small smile to your face. The memory of its flavor ghosted across your tongue excitedly.

Having made your choice, and noticing Ardyn was still nose deep in one of the menus, you gazed out at the dining area, admiring the decor. The place was certainly designed with your scenario in mind, and you could see why. The place was dark, hushed, allowing a sense of seclusion for its diners. Candles and dim lights gave it a cozy feel, helped by the warmth of a fire crackling in a brick fireplace as its centerpiece. The restaurant’s popularity was clear; not a single table was left yearning for guests. Even the bar, which you’d passed on the way to your seat, had someone perched on each stool.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” you said suddenly. “How did you manage to get this table? I know you’re the chancellor and all, but the place is always fully booked from what I’ve heard.”

Ardyn lowered his menu, meeting your eyes while chuckling lightly. “Oh, it is, though we have come to a certain agreement. I’ve prevailed upon our dear Emperor to accept his catering only from specific establishments. You’ll find not even the smallest of His Radiance’s galas are absent of such luxuries. In exchange, they’ve agreed to always save a table in my name, should I ever choose to stop by. A…mutually beneficial relationship.”

You paused to stare at him for a moment, his words digesting, before you couldn’t stop a light laugh from tickling up your throat. He was even cagier than you’d thought.

“Clever,” you complimented. It seemed he had the whole of Gralea wrapped around his fingers.

Ardyn positively beamed. “I have my moments.”

You both shared a laugh at that. Quite the understatement, you both knew.

As your snickers began to die down, your waitress returned, cradling a fancy, vase-like bottle filled with clear water, dropping it off as she asked for your orders. Ardyn got his special wine you couldn’t pronounce, along with one of the meals you didn’t recognize, and Charlette complimented his choice with a forced sweetness. It made you cringe a little, seeing her lick his boots as much as possible before she asked what you wanted. Such was one of the downsides of being with someone so high in Niflheim’s pecking order.

Once she was gone, you turned back to each other, Ardyn smiling brightly at your attention. It was so boyishly innocent, you couldn’t help returning it, even when you felt heat creeping up your neck. Oh, he was cute.

“I’d like to get to know you better, if you’ll humor me,” he said, leaning back in his seat, sinking into its cushions, his eyes partially lidded.

You nodded your approval; it was customary on first dates after all. You just hoped he’d give you a chance to do the same, though you had a feeling he probably couldn’t be as open as you’d like. Few could say they knew much about the chancellor, and you figured there was a reason for that. He’d be a tough nut to crack, but you had a deep desire to find out more about him.

Parallels between Real Ardyn and Dream Ardyn aside…

“You said you attended university before starting your career,” he began. “What did you study under their tutelage?”

“Public relations,” your answer was automatic. The question had been asked countless times while you were a student, after all. “I also minored in ancient Lucian, but I’m a little rusty these days.”

It was true, you’d once been semi-fluent. The language had caught your attention after you’d learned of your ancestry. While your blood was mostly a mix of Niff and Tenebraen, a drop of Lucian ran through your veins. Bred out through generations, your ancestors had once owned land there. When you’d found out, you liked the idea of connecting with that part of yourself, and, for once, your parents agreed. Dead language though it was, many books from those days lived on, allowing people to study it as they pleased. Your own skills had atrophied though, having no one else to speak with, and little time to practice on your own. Sadly, more of it slipped through your fingers each day, but you could still hold a basic conversation.

Ardyn’s eyes practically sparkled at that. “Ancient Lucian?” He said slowly, wonder lacing his tone. “Now that is something you don’t hear very often.”

“It’s a pretty language,” you said, smiling with pride at how impressed he seemed. “It’s so different from our modern tongue, I loved seeing how much we’ve changed.”

Ardyn nodded. “I must say, I’m surprised. Few have the patience to learn it.”

“Yeah, my classes were pretty small. And it doesn’t translate into the modern word very well. Plus all the symbols…”

“A challenge I’m sure you more than excelled at facing. You’ll have to demonstrate for me sometime,” Ardyn chortled. “I’ve yet to meet anyone able to master it.”

“‘Master’ is a strong word,” you chuckled. “I haven’t been able to practice much now that I've graduated, but I’d like to get better at it again.”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” he smirked. “I have known it for many, many years.”

Your eyes widened, and you gaped at him, much to his amusement.

“You know Ancient Lucian?!” You said, astounded. How, why did he know ancient Lucian? You hadn’t met another person who knew it since you left school.

“Indeed I do,” Ardyn purred, pleased with the bewilderment that twisted your expression. “Our friends across the pond found the idea of communicating in a language we couldn’t understand quite grand, given the circumstances. Our intelligence agencies have become versed in the tongue to compensate, and I followed suit, so I may be kept abreast of their messages without the need for a translator.”

After hearing his explanation, you relaxed a little, glad there was an actual reason for it. Though, something still nagged at you from the back of your head. A strangeness you didn’t know how to name, something that felt…off. You decided to ignore it, all too happy to accept what he’d said.

Just a coincidence…The dreams may have been in the past, but it’s just a coincidence.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, at least.

“Makes sense,” you said with a nod. “Hard to spy on someone when you can’t understand them.”

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Ardyn shrugged.

As he finished his sentence, fancy curved wine glasses were placed in front of you. Charlette smiled triumphantly as she brandished the dark green bottle, residue of a wax seal dripping down the neck, the cork already gone. She filled your glasses halfway, a forced smile on your lips as you watched it fizzle and foam slightly. She left the rest on Ardyn��s side, bidding you adieu with reassurances that your meals would be out shortly.

Ardyn picked up his glass by the stem, swirling the scarlet liquid under his nose. You took yours as well, thinking how it was like coffee: smelling much too sweet for what bitterness it contained. With an approving smile, Ardyn brought the wine to his lips, and you quickly followed suit. Some part of you hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as you were expecting.

You tried your best not to make a face. You really did. Despite your efforts, you could feel the faint contorting of your expression turning sour. The potent flavor of alcohol permeated your entire mouth in seconds, like someone had cracked open a battery over your tongue, letting the vitriolic acid burn into your taste buds. The PH so low it brought back memories of being violently sick over a toilet.

You gulped it down quickly, relishing in the whisper of sweetness that followed the disgusting liquid. At least with wine, there was a pleasant, fruity aftertaste.

When your eyes flicked up at your companion, you had a new reason to grimace. Ardyn was staring at you, a brow raised, with the slightest frown on his face.

“Something the matter, dear?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Is it not to your liking?”

Oh, bless his heart. He doesn’t realize it’s not this wine I have a problem with.

“Ah -” you hedged, placing your glass back on the table shamefully. You’d hoped you would be able to get through at least a few sips before you made your distaste known.

“I’m sorry,” you said, hating yourself for not being able to just suck it up. “I’m just…not really a fan of most alcoholic beverages. Pure acid…” you muttered the last bit under your breath.

A long pause followed, Ardyn staring at you. You acquainted yourself with the table cloth, fidgeting nervously under his gaze.

You looked up in shock as a hearty laugh filled your ears.

“Is that all, my dear?” Ardyn said between laughs. “Why, you almost had me worried! I was afraid you’d taken ill.”

You blinked owlishly, not expecting his reaction. You let out your own laugh, albeit a nervous one. “No no, I’m fine. Just can’t stomach the stuff. Especially champagne. Never been able to enjoy it.”

“Well, I’d hate to bring you such discomfort.” Ardyn continued to snicker while he spoke. “I’ll have the waiter fetch you something more suitable.”

“Oh that’s okay.” You waved your hand dismissively. You didn’t want to seem picky or ungrateful. “I’m fine with water, you don’t have to -”

But it was too late, Ardyn already waving over one of the attendants that passed by. A tall young man with hair cut down nearly to the roots, a thin mustache on his lip.

“Might you be so kind as to fetch my friend something more to her liking?” Ardyn was saying, the man leaning down to hear him. “Preferably something…virgin? I’m sure you can think of an agreeable substitute.”

The attendant glanced at you, his brown eyes analytic, calculating as he studied you. Just as quickly, an uttered “Of course, your Excellency,” left his mouth before he turned and disappeared into the restaurant.

You sighed at his retreating back, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to do that, it was fine, I promise.”

“Oh but it wasn’t,” he gave you a pointed look. “I’ll not have it be known I’m a bad host. Besides, we came here to enjoy ourselves, and it seems unfair to let me have all the fun.”

Well, you supposed you couldn’t argue with that. He had a point, after all. And hard as you tried to fight it, a little smile crept across your cheeks. It was…kind of sweet.

“Thank you,” you said to the table. The thoughtfulness made a fuzzy warmth settle in your chest.

Ardyn didn’t respond, though his expression softened. A slow nod was all that was needed to show he accepted your gratitude.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to our previous conversation,” he said gently, his fingers laced in his lap and elbows resting on the armrests of his chair.

Looking up, you nodded. “Right.”

“Tell me, do you have any family living in our lovely capital?”

Your smile faltered, fists clenching in your lap, bunching up the napkin. You hadn’t expected him to jump to that so soon. The fuzz in your chest burned like kindling, and you averted your gaze, hoping he couldn’t see the extent of the sourness that replaced your smile.

“They, uh….We’re not exactly on good terms.” You picked at a loose string on the tablecloth, unable to meet his eyes.

“My apologies. I did not mean to upset you.”

“No,” you said quickly, turning back to him. “No, it’s okay. It’s just…I…” You paused trying to think of how to phrase it.

“They always wanted me to be perfect,” you started, pushing down and burying the anger that tried to resurface with the memories. “I was never good enough for them, and they made sure I knew it. They always wished I’d been a son. And my older sister was never any help.”

You swallowed, the lump that’d formed in your throat making it harder to talk with each word. It’d taken years, and lots of therapy, to be able to talk about it at all. You still couldn’t without emotions that’d been left to fester in stained jars from clawing at your skin, threatening to spill. For what does a child crave more than the love of their mother and father?

They only ever saw you as their maid, though. You were cooking the family meals by the time you were ten, cleaning the house and doing the chores since seven. Your family was the proud owner of a successful orchard to the east of the capital, meaning their house was nothing to sneeze at. More of a mansion, but to you it was more of a prison, trapped with a father who shouted and a mother who demeaned. You were beaten into submission, burned and flayed and ripped until you were their perfect little princess, a trained monkey for all to gawk at.

You supposed all the love they had was used up on your sister, whom they spoiled to the point of being rotten. She loved how much they favored her over you. It was like a sport to her, to see how much trouble she could get you into. Any attempts to stand up to her were rewarded with a lock on your door, and a night without dinner. Some part of you did pity her though; she was but a pampered poodle after all. More of an object to your parents than a person, something to flaunt to their rich neighbors.

Schooling wasn’t something they were overly fond of you participating in, since your sister had already proven herself superior in that field. She won awards at science fairs while your grades were good, but not spectacular. A failing in their eyes. When eighteen rolled around, their boot was already firmly placed in your back, the door to their estate shutting with a thunderous crack behind you. They would suffer a runt no longer.

You tensed when something kicked you, snapping you out of your dark memories. Your brows furrowed, and you stared down at the table as if you might see through it. Then - there it was again. Something nudged your shin.

It was Ardyn. His smirk had been wiped clean off, and was replaced with a gentleness you hadn’t seen before. It…looked like sympathy.

“I know the feeling all too well,” he answered your unspoken question. “I never lived up to my family’s standards, so I became an outcast.” Something flicked across his face, and you blinked, recognizing it. It looked similar to what happened when he saw Jeremy; an untamable rage that was held by a leash ripe for snapping. Gone before you had a chance to really see it, buried as deep as it would go.

Well…family issues could certainly explain his bitterness.

You sensed his leg was still encroaching on your side of the table. Thankful that he snapped you out of your whirlpool of thoughts, you decided to return the favor. Sinking down into your seat a little, you reached out with your right foot, finding his boot easily. Delicately, you curled your ankle, giving his shin a comforting rub.

A soft smile returned to his face when he felt you. You gave him one of your own, feeling he deserved to be soothed too.

“So…we’re both a little broken,” you said, like you were sharing a secret. “Maybe we can help each other pick up the pieces, if you’re willing.”

He hummed in thought, letting his smile grow back into a smirk. Good - he was feeling better, then.

“I’d like that,” he said, twirling the stem of his wine glass in his fingers. “If you’re willing to put up with the ravings of an old man.”

You scoffed at him. “You’re not old!” You waved your hand at him in offense. “You look thirty!”

“Close,” he teased, sipping his drink. “I’m thirty-three.”

“See? That’s not old.”

He snickered at how adamant you were. You certainly had fire when you wanted to.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be winning this one.” He leaned back in his chair, defeated. “Ugh, where were you on the council when I needed you?”

“I don’t think I’ve got the patience for politics,” you giggled at the thought. “I’d speak out of line once and get thrown in jail.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. Especially with the epidemic of incompetence spreading through the Emperor's cabinet as of late.”

“Giving you trouble, are they?” You said with a chuckle.

“All the time.”

You laughed whilst he shook his head, rubbing his temple in frustration. You supposed even the chancellor couldn’t escape the woes of annoying colleagues.

“Who’s the worst of the bunch?” You probed, not really expecting an answer.

“General Calligo Ulldor,” he said without hesitation, letting out an angry sigh. “He has an ego bigger than the imperial legions, and that is saying something.”

You hummed, taking a sip of water. You could feel its cold touch glide down your throat as you drank. You hadn’t noticed until then, but your mouth had gone quite dry over the course of the evening.

“Never heard of him,” you said, placing your glass back on the table. You weren’t big on politics, but you still knew some of the people on the imperial council. Aside from Ardyn, that is.

He grinned widely at your statement, a mischievousness darkening his eyes.

“I’ll be telling him that when next I see him. He’ll have an utter fit over it.”

You scoffed again. “I doubt he cares what some commoner thinks.”

“And you would be forgiven for that assumption, inaccurate as it may be. The man believes his name echoes from the coasts of Niflheim to the walls of Insomnia.”

“Damn…that is a big ego.”

You smiled as Ardyn laughed, one that was carefree and jovial. You liked that look on him. You decided you wanted to see him laugh like that more.

Right as he was settling down, your waitress returned, steaming plates balanced in one arm while she held a glass in the other. You’d completely forgotten about the drink Ardyn ordered for you, but its bright red color betrayed something sweet, and you were a sucker for sweet things. The warm plate she placed in front of you looked just as appetizing; you didn’t need to sink your fork into it to tell it was cooked to perfection, its savory aroma prompting an impatient growl from your belly.

You both thanked the waitress and she was off, leaving you alone to enjoy your meals. Ardyn encouraged you to tell him if it was all to your liking, and you nodded, though you doubted you would be disappointed. It all looked perfect.

Holding up his glass, Ardyn proposed a toast to your budding relationship. Taking your own, you adorned a goofy smile as your glasses tinked together, both of you taking swigs of your drinks. This one was infinitely better, a mix of ulwaat berries and the sharp taste of oranges. These were the kind of drinks you could suck down all day.

The food was the real highlight though, which was to be expected. As soon as the first forkfull hit your tongue, you melted into your seat, closing your eyes blissfully to bask in the heavenly flavor. It was even better than you could’ve imagined.

For those first few bites, neither of you insisted on conversation, too busy savoring your dishes. Glancing at Ardyn’s, you still weren’t entirely sure what it was, but it looked like some kind of fancy casserole; a layer of starchy substance concealed a treasure of meat and vegetables. You’d have to ask him what it was later.

After a few minutes, Ardyn resumed asking you questions in between bites. You were happy to oblige, the conversation flowing more freely. He started by asking about your hobbies, mercifully leaving the issue of your family aside. You told him about them in scant detail, curious what his own hobbies were, and asking him as much. He told you he fancied all different manners of wine, though that wasn’t much of a revelation, given his enthusiasm for the stuff. He also told you he was rather good at chess, which surprised you. You asked him to play you sometime, though he warned your odds of winning against him were slim, at best. You made him promise not to go easy on you.

By the time you two were done exchanging stories of how you fell into your passions, your plates were greasy and cold, your glasses empty and stained. Ardyn drank almost the entire bottle of wine on his own, yet he didn’t seem even the slightest bit tipsy. He must’ve had a high tolerance, since he seemed to drink it often, by the way he spoke about it.

As soon as you both were satisfied, Charlette appeared, gathering your dirtied plates and asking if you had interest in dessert. Ardyn looked to you wordlessly, leaving the decision in your hands. As much as you were tempted, you were full enough on dinner, and chose to decline. With that, she took the last of the wine, saying she would keep it for his next visit, and add the night's meal to his tab.

When she departed for the final time, Ardyn stood, strutting to your side so he could hold out his hand for you. You blushed a little as you placed your hand in his, letting him help you up. Somehow it felt more intimate then, the way he smiled at you with his trademark smirk and gave his arm for you to take. It felt less like it was just for show and more like he may actually have some interest in you.

As dizzying as the thought was.

But you weren’t going to let your doubts dampen your mood. A pleasant contentment had laid its roots in you, blooming into a smile that wouldn’t leave your face. The evening had gone better than you could’ve expected. Even though there was some initial nervousness, and the hiccup of your family affairs, your conversation had otherwise come naturally. Both of you teased each other, cracked jokes, made like a merry couple, all things considered. It made you feel good. It put a spring in your step as you were walked back to the elevator.

Ardyn, of course, insisted on taking you home. You agreed readily; the building was much too far from home to walk, which left you with few options. Not that you minded, you were feeling more confident in Ardyn’s presence after the night you shared.

The ride home was lethargic, your bodies busy processing what you’d put in them. Ardyn made his way to your apartment without issue, parking his car right next to the front doors. When you got out, so did he, asking if he could walk you to your room. You hesitated at first, but you allowed it. You didn’t want to leave his side just yet. Standing next to him was starting to feel warm. Comforting.

The elevator ride was a silent one, but this time the painful prick of awkwardness was noticeably absent. It let you off with a ding, and you led Ardyn down the row of cookie cutter doors to what you called home.

“This is me,” you said, gesturing to one close to the end. The only distinguishing feature a gold 1021 glued under the peephole.

“…Thank you,” you said, turning to where Ardyn stood behind you, watching you fish around in your purse for your keys. “For tonight, I mean. I had fun.”

Ardyn’s eyes softened. “As did I,” he said.

You stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything, wondering how you should part from each other. You weren't sure if you should do something more. Should you say goodnight? Hug him? Kiss him? The possibilities swirled in your head, indecision pulling her boney fingers through your hair.

Though, as usual, Ardyn knew what to do. He stepped forward, the familiar feeling of his fingers under your chin welcome. Perhaps it was the lighting, but his amber eyes seemed to glow as he looked down at you.

“Might I be so bold…” he murmured, his half lidded irises blinking long and slow. “As to wish you a goodnight?”

He carded his thumb across your lower lip, a wake of tingling skin left after it. His gaze darted down to watch your mouth get pulled apart ever so slightly, before his eyes snapped back up.

He wanted to say goodnight… but not with words.

Your eyes widened. Did he…really want to…?

It was a little scary, when you realized what exactly he was asking of you. What if you weren’t good enough? Would you disappoint him? Hell, were you even ready for this?

You trembled with a full body shudder, the answer your soul gave shaking you to your core.

“Yes,” you breathed, letting your consent hang in the air as the tension between you two balanced on a knife's edge. Your tongue wet your lips as you allowed your eyes to fall and linger on his mouth, before being caught again by his saucers of honey.

Ardyn hummed in pleasure, holding your chin up for himself.

“Close your eyes…” he whispered.

You obeyed without hesitation, blood rushing in your ears as the anticipation made your muscles tighten.

The ghosting of his breath across your face preceded him. You curled your toes, waiting, and when the stubble of his beard scratched your skin, his lips finally meeting yours, time slowed to a stop.

His touch had always sparked heat deep beneath your skin, a crackling fire of emotions you didn’t dare name.

But this…this was a bonfire, one that struck like lightning down to your fingertips, a raging blaze that stole your breath away. His mouth was soft, decadent in the way it slowly massaged into yours, delectable in the way his beard contrasted his lips. You could sense the faint, sweet taste of the wine he’d had, making him all the more delicious.

It took you a moment to come down from your high, remembering to return his gentle caress. The care he took to familiarize himself with how you moved kept making you lightheaded. Even though he took the lead, he wasn’t demanding. Ardyn allowed you to get lost in the movement, your fingers curling as a need began to bloom in the bowels of your core.

He was addicting.

Whatever fleeting thoughts occupying your brain vanished, leaving behind only the need to join him in that dance. You sighed contentedly into him, melting into his form, your hands coming to rest on his chest. Ardyn made a pleased sound, his own hands dropping to hold your hips, keeping you flush against himself.

It was all at once long and indulgent and over far too soon. You parted from each other with a wet, satisfying pop, panting not from lack of breath, but from the magnitude of what you’d just done. You got kissed by the chancellor. And fuck, you’d liked it. You’d liked it a lot. Your eyes fluttered open, watching him, hoping he’d enjoyed that as much as you had.

Ardyn’s face shone with the gentlest blush, his eyes slightly wide and unblinking. He looked at you like you were a great mystery to him, something he lacked the tools to figure out. He was at a loss for words, his neck showing the faintest hints of perspiration.

But even while his face was contorted with confusion, he couldn’t hide the desire that burned deep within his eyes.

There was a long pause that followed, the two of you just staring at the other. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what you would do.

It did not have to wait long for an answer.

Something in Ardyn snapped. He suddenly lunged forward, sweeping you up and forcing a startled yelp from you, shoving you against your door. The sound was barely out of your throat when he claimed your lips again, holding your body delightfully hostage between himself and cheap wood.

At first, the kisses were light and airy. Perhaps even hesitant, both of you scared of what further indulgence would entail.

But soon, they were needy, desperate. You could sense it in the way he moved, how he clung to you like he feared the very thought of letting go. Like he’d wandered a barren desert all his life, only to now be blessed with the quenching mist of morning rain. You were his salvation, locked away and hidden by those who would wish him suffering.

And you were just as parched, just as depraved in your search for relief.

You could feel the door strain behind you, creaking while it struggled to hold as it pressed against your back, Ardyn humming a possessive growl into your skin.

You held on to his roaming forearms for stability, trying to remain grounded enough to return his sweet affections. The worries from the night, the week before melted away, massaged out of you by the passion, the hunger in his eyes.

So what if it all collapsed, really? Did it matter, when you breathed in Ardyn’s scent, his musk, as you moved to run your fingers through his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. Oh, and the little whine of delight he made when you nipped his lower lip, his excitement brushing against your thigh.

So what if the world fell apart tomorrow, spoiled by fire and brimstone?

Would it matter, would you care?

No, you realized, humming into his mouth, cupping his stubbly cheek in one hand. His own traveled your sides, slowly dragged up and down, from where your bra could be felt through your shirt down to your hips. His nose pressed against yours, his bangs tickled your forehead.

You gasped when something slick traced your lower lip. You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. But you immediately let him in, unable to stop a slight moan as his tongue darted inside you. The remnants of his meal remained on the dexterous muscle, spreading the exotic spices across your taste buds as he explored your mouth. It intertwined with your own, bringing you together in a deep, primal way.

You could feel heat gathering below you, soiling your underwear. A pressure that built with every featherlight touch.

You felt slightly filthy for it. Normally, you weren’t really one to have sex on a first date.

But he felt so good. So right.

Your left hand untangled from his hair, groping blindly at the door holding you up, trying to fiddle with the handle.

“Do you…want to…come inside?” You asked between kisses, chasing his lips as he dove down to nibble the tender flesh of your neck. You groaned in appreciation, your fingers flying back into his hair.

When your words finally registered, Ardyn froze. You could’ve wailed when he leaned back slowly, meeting your eyes with a calculating expression.

You immediately felt guilt squeeze your chest. You’d overstepped.

“I don’t believe…” Ardyn said through heavy breaths. “…that would be appropriate of me, given how long we’ve known each other.”

Your face fell, as did your heart. The heat inside you fizzled, fading into embarrassment that made you want to sink into the ground.

He must surely think you a whore, now. Gods, you’d ruined it.

“Now, now,” he said gently, taking your crestfallen face into his palm. A sweet smile returned to his features as he rubbed fond circles into your cheek. “There’s no need to look so disappointed.” He leaned down sinfully close to your ear, his voice a siren’s song. “I am not opposed to having a bit of fun, once we come to know each other better.”

Your heart leapt at that. So there was still hope for you.

Ardyn chuckled when we leaned back, noticing how your face had brightened. You were just adorable.

“Speaking of which,” he began, letting his hands fall from you as he took a step back. Your body unconsciously swayed in his direction, missing the warmth of his caress. Oh, how he’d never get tired of watching you chase his touch. “I had plans to spend the afternoon at the imperial gardens at his Radiance’s humble abode. It would bring me unending delight if you were to join me.”

You stared at him with wide, excited eyes. “Is that allowed?” You asked. Not just anyone was permitted into the imperial palace, especially common folk. You’d only ever seen it in passing, from the outside.

Ardyn grinned mischievously. “With my blessing, you are allowed anywhere, my dearest. Sans perhaps, the Emperor’s private quarters. I don’t believe he would find it amusing if we visited him uninvited.”

You laughed quietly at the thought. Ardyn certainly had an interesting sense of humor.

Stepping up to him, you caught him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his chest, reminding yourself of when you’d done the same thing in a dream. His clothes were just as comforting and full of warmth as then too, and you delighted in the movement of his lungs, the beating of his heart. After a moment, he held you with just as much enthusiasm, one hand rhythmically combing through your hair while the other cupped the small of your back.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow?” You asked, looking up at him in question. He still had that soft adoring smile on his face, and you could’ve melted at seeing it displayed for you.

He brushed the back of his knuckles across your cheek, widening your pleased grin.

“I swear it on my honor as Chancellor,” he smirked, that whimsical mischief you were coming to know returning to his eyes.

You giggled at him, releasing his waist in favor of taking his hand from your face, pressing a delicate kiss on the back of his fingers. “A simple promise would do.”

“Then a promise you’ll have,” he said. “I’ll have an attendant ready for you by noon tomorrow. Make sure you’re ready a few minutes prior to his arrival, it would be a shame to make him wait.”

You gave a short nod. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” You released his hand as he stepped backward, waving as he turned toward the elevator. “With that, I bid you farewell. Until tomorrow.”

You returned his wave smally, watching him go.

“Good night, Ardyn.”

He paused midstep, looking at you over his shoulder. He’d almost forgotten.

“Good night…花.” (hana)

Your eyes widened, a soft gasp falling from your lips as he smirked at you. He continued on down the corridor, as carefree as he was at the convenience store.

Like he hadn’t just called you his flower in ancient Lucian.

Your head spun with it, a flush washing down to your fingertips. It was so…intimate, in a different way. Like a promise, a trusted secret. You almost wanted to call after him, say something in return, but you couldn’t think of anything suitable. Plus, you didn’t want to overstep so soon after you’d already stumbled. He’d set a pace for the both of you in this. The least you could do was respect it.

So, with some reluctance, you focused on getting your door open. Still, you couldn’t wipe your stupid smile from your face. He called you flower, you thought giddily, the door clicking softly as the lock was undone. You closed it gently behind you, not wanting to wake your neighbors. Glancing at the digital clock on your stove, it was already well past ten. The fact had your body sagging. It’d been easy to ignore your tiredness before, but now that you were alone, it struck you with full force. It was past your bedtime.

Throwing your purse onto the coach carelessly, you got ready for bed. Your brain was filled with the memories of your night out, replaying the best parts as you showered and changed. You’d had more fun than you thought you would.

And you were going to see him again tomorrow!

You let out a happy sigh at the reminder, snuggling into bed. You were excited to see him.

So much so, it was almost enough to make you forget about your dreams. And the nagging sense of wrongness that was an incessant thorn in the back of your mind, as you drifted off to sleep.

“Sleep well…あなた.” (anata)

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

Ardyn slammed his fist against the elevator wall, the metal groaning as it caved from the force. Another dent for the disgusting bucket that building called a lift.

“Gods damn it all,” he muttered, a fury that was all too familiar making him tremble with a need to release it.

The kiss had been a test. He wanted to know how much the gods had made you in Aera’s image, and your little date gave him the perfect opportunity to test not only your personality, but also your more…intimate mannerisms. A quick peck was all it was meant to be.

But it became so much more. When his lips touched yours, he got the same feeling he did when he kissed his beloved. How his heart felt like it was soaring, content and ignorant of the turmoil that shook the ground below. With her, he forgot his hurts as a healer who absorbed the scourge, and instead could simply exist. Pretend for a few moments he lived a peaceful life with his beloved, drowning in the happiness she wrought.

And it’d happened again. He felt it as soon as he kissed you. That happiness, the love he craved so deeply, even if he denied it. Your lips had moved with that same feeling of reverence, the same unconditional love he once felt from her. When you parted from each other, his soul screamed, for it was desperate to feel even an ounce of that again.

So, against his better judgment, he’d kissed you again. And again. And again. He let himself get lost in it, closing his eyes as he remembered her. He could picture it, stealing time away from his duties to waste it in the gardens together. Or stolen moments at the inn of the town he was curing, where they would relax for a short while before their callings beckoned them onward.

Until you spoke, that is, reminding him who it was he was actually kissing.

That had been a splash of cold water to his senses, and he knew he had to stop. He’d let it go on for far too long.

His fingers hesitantly traced his lips, which tingled with the memory of your touch. No, it hadn’t been the exact same as Aera, he realized. You were both gentle in your affections, certainly, but there was something else in yours. A fiery determination mixed with a hint of apprehension. You weren’t as sure of yourself as Aera was, but you had enough will to fight that part of yourself when you wanted to.

He let out an angry sigh as the doors slid open to the lobby. He’d have to do more tests to be certain.

The dinner had been fruitful at least. Even though he was a bit sad to see you still couldn’t be completely honest with him, he’d expected as much. Well, no matter. He’d just have to break down your walls, earn your trust. Something he could call himself an expert in.

Still, he’d gotten quite a bit out of you. He learned enough to tell that you were not a carbon copy of his Aera, which had him relieved. He’d been worried the gods would be too lazy to think of anything else, couldn’t imagine anyone besides her holding him in any positive regard. That they would copy and paste her personality, her wants, her passions onto another body, plastering another face over it.

They hadn’t, though, which surprised him. Aera had been a fan of architecture, something that you displayed no interest in. Reading was something you had in common, but he supposed he couldn’t really blame you for that one - you worked in a library after all. She also had no issues with her family, at least none that he could recall. No, you were your own person. The gods had given him a small mercy on that front.

Yet that mercy was a double edged sword. While he could confirm you were your own person, he could also confirm there was unmistakably something bigger at play here. It was no coincidence you made him feel the ways Aera did. And it was no coincidence you’d met now, so close to the cursed prophecy’s end.

A prophecy he was now certain had begun pulling at your strings.

Though for what purpose, he still couldn’t say.

He’d have time to figure it out though, under the guise of more ‘dates’.

Speaking of which…

Ardyn pulled out his phone, dialing a number as he slammed his car door shut. It rang once before it was answered.

“Yes, your Excellency?” The scratchy voice of one of his servants chirped.

Ardyn said your name, your full name, into the device. “I want you to find me the location of her immediate family. I’d like to pay them a visit…”

“At once, your Eminence.”

———————————————————————

Thank you everyone for the patience and support. It has really helped me get back into this, now that I have time.

I kept things like Reader's hobbies and what they were eating vague so you can put in whatever you like :). I personally imagined reader got some delicious beef wellington and Ardyn got a shepherd's pie. I head canon he likes commoner food, it's comforting for him.

Also, since some of you know I do have some childhood trauma, I just want to say the stuff I said about reader's family is completely fictional. My family is wonderful and I love them very much. We're going out for drinks later :) (yes the alcohol thing is real though so wish me luck lmao).

Also also I decided since I'm semi bilingual I wanted to add some Japanese into the story! Don't worry, I'll make sure to put translations in the text where it appears, that way you don't have to scroll/look anything up to understand it. This time is the exception because I wanted it to be a surprise. Japanese definitely exists inside FFXV already, I'm just tweaking it so it can be a sweet little thing between Ardyn and reader :) Hope you enjoy it!

Translations: 花 = flower あなた = dear (or a general term of endearment)

No, the dreams weren't in ancient Lucian, they were in English. Reader didn't even know they were in Lucis during them, and probably still has some doubt about the exact location.

Anyway, I've set a routine for myself to write a little bit everyday, which I hope I can adhere to. Please look forward to future chapters!

#ardyn #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn x reader #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn x you #ffxv fanfic #also on ao3

24 notes · View notes

janedoeswriting · 4 months ago

Text

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC) Chapter Eight

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

It took a week to convince the Sheriff that Lydia Martin was a trustworthy chauffeur. It took a lot of groveling, and convincing. In the end, it took Lydia showing up to the house to help Rhiannon convince him. She was very good at debates. In the end, he gave in. "Fine. But only because you're on the," he waved his hands around, "homecoming.. committee thing. When you don't have that after school, you come straight. here. When Stiles and Scott aren't at practice, you ride with Stiles, got it?" He firmly said. Rhiannon nodded, but couldn't help the grin that had blossomed on her face.

Sheriff Stilinski had seemingly permanently developed dark circles under his eyes. He seemed to have aged years within the past few weeks. Of course, Rhiannon's return had helped. But with her bringing no useful information about her kidnapping back with her, he reverted back to the endlessly distracted and exhausted man with the weight of the town on his shoulders.

She had felt so guilty about this that everyday after Stiles had finally finished his practices and Lydia and Rhi had finished with Homecoming committee, Rhi would force Stiles to drive her to the Sheriff's station so she could deliver a hot meal to him while he finished up his work. The FBI agents lingering around the station always eyed her with a hungry sort of interest. None of them, thankfully, suspected her. She was ever-the-dutiful foster daughter who had seemingly gotten lucky beyond belief after escaping a serial kidnapper.

"Maybe you could teach me self defense," she offered one day as she was dropping off chicken parmesan. "I'm sure it would make you feel better." Of course, this was all chipping away at that stony determination of his to protect Rhi. He had a right to as well, so Rhi couldn't even blame him. As her sole guardian and everything they had gone through with her disappearance, he must have felt the full gravity of what had happened to her.

"I'm sure that would." he chuckled, unwrapping the aluminum foil with a sort of greed. "But, I don't have much time."

"Allison is on the archery team," Rhiannon offered. The truth was, she had also grown deeply interested in Allison and her father. They were immensely skilled, and if Rhiannon managed to learn a thing or two from them it could be the difference between life and death. The wendigo was sheer luck. She couldn't allow herself to be put in a position again that would require someone else to come and save her.

The sheriff had laughed. "Archery? Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Rhiannon shrugged, but laughed too. "No, I guess I can't be carrying around a bow and arrow everywhere to ward off kidnappers."

They had slowly grown easier around the subject. Mr. Stilinski still didn't make jokes, but he didn't stiffen or grow cold when Rhiannon lightheartedly made light jabs here and there. "You should try out anyway, huh? Get more involved in different things. Allison is a good girl."

This implied he thought Lydia was not as good of a girl as Allison. Which wasn't wrong. "And it would be good to have a sport on your college applications." he added. Rhiannon shrugged. She had voiced no interest in attending college, but she also hadn't brought herself to express this. She could tell it was the sort of household that expected college, or at least some sort of plan. He didn't know that she did have a plan. One that didn't involve staying in this world, much less attending college there.

So she kept silent and nodded. "I can try it out. Its after school Tuesdays and Thursdays." She explained.

"Good! The days you don't have homecoming stuff. If you make the team you won't have to wait around for Stiles to finish practice." This was true, but Rhiannon attempted to breach the subject as she always did.

"I wouldn't have to wait around if-," she started, but as always he shut it down.

Eventually she give up the gig after a bit of back and forth and said her farewells.

"Tell me when you get home," Rhiannon always added. Lately with the Sheriff's late nights and early mornings, she asked him to knock on her door when he got home so she knew he was safe. She couldn't help but be apprehensive with the darach on the loose and the unpredictability of her next movements. Rhiannon had no clue when she would strike next, or to whom. She couldn't remember details-- just knew that they had to keep an eye on "healers". She had at least managed to scare Scott into bringing his mother dinner every night and keeping a close watch on her as well.

At the very least Mrs. McCall was safe.

"Thank you!!" Rhiannon exclaimed the day the Sheriff had finally given in to her berading. She hugged him in the kitchen. When Rhiannon pulled away he pointed a stern finger at Lydia, who smiled innocently. "Straight home. No detours, no shopping, no parties." "Of course, sheriff." Lydia said.

It was a Friday night and Rhiannon was stuck inside the house. Stiles and Scott were as well, of course, but that was their own choice. Rhiannon wished she could be a normal teenager. Lydia and her went to Rhiannon's room and she sighed. "I wish we could go to parties," Rhiannon longingly said. "Nah, they're barely any fun aways." Lydia said, picking up and beginning to solve a rubix cube Rhiannon had stolen from Stiles. "I know you're lying." Rhiannon responded, collapsing on her bed and hugging her pillows before rolling on her side. She picked up a magazine and began flipping through it unenthusiastically. It was one Isaac had lent her, depicting cool pictures of rockstars and recent news about them.

"Well why don't I host one?" Lydia offered. Rhiannon looked at her. Lydia chuckled. "I've never even been to your house because I'm 'not allowed'." Rhiannon said glumly and mimicked his stern voice. "Well what if I invited him too? We can keep it family friendly, invite all our friend's parents." "He wouldn't go he doesn't have time for anything fun. Plus, while they think we're on our best behavior we can sneak a little something into our cups," Lydia said suggestively. "He wont agree to go to party while people are getting kidnapped left and right." "Tell him it'll be a good way to unite the community. He could lecture parents on keeping close eyes on their children."

Rhiannon hummed, unconvinced.

"Besides, he could let loose. He looks terrible." Rhiannon moaned. "I know," she said as she rolled onto her back. "I feel so bad." "It's not your fault."

Rhiannon knew better than that, but before she could get another word out her door burst open. "Rhi-," he started, but saw Lydia and stopped in his tracks and fumbled around, coughing. "Lydia! Didn't know you were here." he squeaked out.

He was holding an old acoustic guitar in one hand while wearing burnt oven mits, a helmet from world war II, his boxer shorts, a frilly apron, and aviator goggles. "Rooting around the attic?" Rhiannon asked with a raised brow. It was just like Stiles to get distracted while looking for something. He was wearing the evidence all over himself. Lydia turned with an exasperated expression and returned to the rubix cube. "Y-yeah. This was my granddad's," he said, setting the dusty guitar on Rhi's bed. He looked ready to run out, but Scott appeared in the doorway, who must have just returned from giving his mother dinner.

"Playing dress up?" Scott asked. Stiles let out a frustrated grunt and flicked the oven mits onto the floor before stomping out. Scott turned and met Rhiannon's eyes. They both held equally amused expressions and broke into laughter.

"Arn't you guys going to your house?" Rhiannon asked Scott. Scott leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms. Lydia turned back around and set the the finished rubix cube on the desk.

"No, my mom is working the night shift. She said we're grounded from having sleepovers without her there." "What, break a priceless heirloom?" Lydia asked sarcastically. It must have been something similar though, because Scott laughed guiltily and scratched the back of his neck.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You can't stay here. We're having a sleepover tonight." "You two?" Scott asked. "Us three." Another voice joined in. Allison appeared in the threshold holding her duffle bag and an easy smile.

Scott blinked and opened and closed his mouth. Allison smiled at him.

"I already told da-, er- Mr. Stilinski that we're having a sleepover tonight." Rhiannon said. Scott seemed to struggle to tear his eyes away from Allison, but when he did he looked like a confused puppy.

Allison let herself in and set her bag down next to Lydia's. Rhiannon got up out of bed and stormed out to the living room. The sheriff was cracking open a beer and sitting on the couch with his feet up.

"Stiles and Scott are staying here tonight?" She asked. "Melissa asked me if they could and I said yes." he said. "But you said Allison and Lydia could sleepover." Rhiannon whined. "They can." "You're letting them sleepover while my friends are here?" Rhiannon asked in disbelief. "Oh come on, Rhiannon. I thought you liked Scott and Stiles." he said. "I do, when they aren't annoying my friends." "Do Scott and Stiles annoy you?" the sheriff asked, leaning back. Allison, Scott, and Lydia had followed her to the living room and were standing at the edge of the hallway. Allison shook her head with a pleasant smile. "No."

"Yes." Lydia said, crossing her arms. "Oh, you'll be fine." the sheriff responded, turning back to the game and turning up the volume. "But-," she started. There was a crash behind them. Stiles was on the floor in the hallway and everyone stepped aside to look at him. Rhiannon turned with her hand outstretched as this was explanation enough. The sheriff looked sympathetic, but said, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Rhiannon groaned. Stiles had collected himself and was now standing next to Rhiannon.

"Yup! It'll be great!" he exclaimed and turned to Rhiannon. "The whole gang's all here. Hangin' out, havin' a sleepover." he said excitedly. Rhiannon punched his arm. He slapped her upside the head. She was about to leap on him when the sheriff stepped in and caught her around the stomach and Stiles staggered back.

"Girls in Rhiannon's room, boys in Stiles'. Move out."

Rhiannon swiftly marched to her room and waited on the girls. Before she slammed the door shut she peeked her head out and sent Stiles a middle finger when the sheriff wasn't looking. He tried to do it back but ran face-first into the threshold.

"Ugh I can't stand him!" She exclaimed to her friends. Allison was digging through her bag and Lydia was back at Rhiannon's desk. Lydia had taken to inspecting her perfect hair in the mirror and Allison pulled out a gun.

"WHA-t is that?!" Rhiannon exclaimed loudly at first and then softened her voice to a hushed whisper as she stepped forward as if to hide the weapon from prying eyes.

"You said you wanted some protection." Allison said innocently, as if this were the most obvious course of action. She was referring back to when Rhiannon had a conversation with Allison while she was attempting to learn archery at the school. She had sucked so badly, Rhiannon had completely given up the skill entirely.

"Yeah not a gun. I don't even know how to use it!" She bit out. Allison smirked and disarmed it, catching the amo with her other hand and pressing them separately into each one of Rhiannon's hands.

"This is the magazine," she instructed, "and this is the pistol. Safety off," she clicked a switch, "and on. Never point a weapon at anyone. Even as a joke, even if it's unarmed, and even with safety on."

Rhiannon absorbed the information like a sponge, tentatively alert as she took in Allison's words. Her heart had started to pound the moment the weapon was laid in her hands. Lydia was leaning forward too, pretending to be nonchilantly filing her nails but she had a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

"The barrel, trigger, magazine release. Put it in." Allison gestured to each part. Rhiannon took the magazine and attempted to shove it in. Allison turned it around in her hand. Rhiannon blushed and smiled awkwardly, and then shoved it hard inside. It clicked into place. "Slide stop. Go ahead and click it."

Rhiannon did. The top of the pistol slid back. "See this empty space? A bullet would normally sit here. Push it back and lock it again." Rhiannon did. She moved slower and clumsier than Allison, and the gun was harder to operate than how it looked on tv.

"Click the mag release button." Rhianon did and caught the magazine the same way Allison had. "Good. Hold it up and look down the sight." Rhiannon pointed it at the floor and extended her arms. Allison adjusted her hand's position and pointed to the groove at the top. "This is the back sight and this is the front. Always keep a firm frame when aiming. When you fire, plant your feet, lean back slightly, and stand up straight."

Rhiannon relaxed and handed the weapon back into Allison's open palms. She pressed them into a padded case and locked it shut. "The code is 0000. Change it so only you know the password. It's important to keep your weapons safe and hidden." Rhiannon nodded, taking the black case from her friend and staring down at it as if she was holding a bomb. She swiftly made her way to her closet and shoved it on the top shelf underneath piles of blankets and pillows.

"I'll take you to the range soon. It's easier to learn when you're actually shooting." Allison said. "No kidding." Lydia commented.

Rhiannon turned back. Her heart swelled. "Thank you, Allison." It was sincere, and soft. Allison laughed. "Of course, Rhiannon. It's nothing."

The door slammed open.

Scott barreled in alert as ever. Stiles was hot at his heels. Scott looked around the room like he’d expected to run into a hideous beast attacking his friends.

“What’s happening? Why was there—,” he hesitated to a low whisper, “gunpowder.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. Rhiannon looked at them with a murderous glare.

“Get. OUT!” She yelled and slammed the door in their faces.

—

6 notes · View notes