#for rarely man escapes his destiny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelshadowsinger · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.8k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: smut, & a lil dosage of fluff at the end

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬:

dirty talk, heavyyy praise kink, oral(f receiving), implied size kink, light breeding kink, creampie, cum play, a little overstim, Az is a fuckin freak, sweeeeet aftercare 💗

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Azriel hears that no one has ever made you orgasm before, and makes it his mission to show you what you've been missing... again and again.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

y'all this is narstyyyyy nasty... as in, absolute filth. literal prawn. the most detailed smut i have ever written... probably too much detail. be warned.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

“I dunno, I’ve just… never been able to finish when I’m with a guy,” you shrugged, nonchalant.

Mor’s jaw was on the floor, her big brown eyes filled with horror. She gasped, “A man has never made you cum?”

You reached across the wide oak table and slapped her arm roughly. “Would you shut up before every citizen of Velaris hears you??”

It had been quite a while since you’d lost your virginity, and after you’d run through a couple partners, you’d come to accept the fact that a man would never deliver that finishing, white hot ecstasy to you. But the way your friend had said it like such sacrilege made you embarrassed, a flush creeping up your ears.

“It’s fine, it’s not like I’ve never come in general,” you went on a bit too quickly, like you had to explain yourself. “It’s just that if I’m with somebody, and I wanna finish, then I have to… do it myself.”

“Gods,” Mor sat back, finishing the final sip of her— how many was that again?— umpteenth glass of wine. “This is why I prefer women.”

You stifled the laugh that nearly escaped. “I wish I could share that sentiment. Sadly…,” you sighed, “Penis is what does it for me.”

“Apparently not,” Mor whispered under her breath, going to sip more from her cup, but it was already empty.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the open bottle, ready to pour her another— but nothing came out. The two of you blinked at the empty glass, slow to register what that meant exactly.

“Welp. Should we start taking shots, then?” She asked with concerning sincerity.

You were quick to shoot her down. “Um, no thanks. I'd rather not feel like complete death at training in—” you glanced at the clock above the hearth, “six hours.”

Mor’s expression turned sour, as did yours. Six hours was certainly not enough time for your tipsiness to wear off completely, especially since wine had been your choice of poison for the night. “Fucking cauldron. Guess we should call it a night,” she groaned, dragging her pretty hands across her face.

The House cleaned away your glasses and the numerous empty wine bottles and corks that littered the surrounding area. You thanked it, stroking the table briefly as Mor trudged off, wanting to take a minute to yourself and maybe have some tea to relax before bed. You were completely unaware of the shadowy figure that was frozen around the kitchen corner, having heard every word of your secret confession.

Azriel stood in silent contemplation behind the doorway. He did not believe in fate, or destiny, or whatever crock of nonsense others would claim ruled their lives, but�� was it not a sign that he had been walking into the kitchen for a late night sweet, only to stumble upon you spilling drunken secrets? It was rare to find anyone else up as late as him, and it would be a lie if he claimed he wandered out of his chambers tonight solely in search of a snack.

The two of you were quite close friends, but there was something more there that neither of you were brave enough to acknowledge. Lingering glances, teasing flirtation that always went a bit too far, the easy back and forth you volleyed with your sarcastic, dry comments. Yes, somehow the shadowsinger had found himself wrapped around your little finger, yet again enamored with a beautiful lady friend who did not return his interest.

Except you did.

Azriel was too blind to know it; too doubtful, too hard on himself to believe you would really want him. But that did not stop him from thinking about you every time he fisted his cock in the long, solitary hours of the night.

Everyone else in the circle could see it plain as day— in fact, Mor was perhaps the most eager proponent of them all. And perhaps she was a bad friend for allowing you to spill that sultry, enticing secret when she was aware that the shadowsinger who loved you now idled within earshot. Perhaps she was even worse for leaving in a hurry, a smirk on her lips and her fingers crossed as she skipped off to her room.

You remained at the large wooden table, unaware that the man who ruled your fantasies was just around the corner. He was silent and still as possible, battling himself with whether he should sneak off and never breathe a word of this, or if he should join you and take the risk. His shadows reported to him from the other corner of the room, informing that you were now sipping tea and looking gorgeous as ever, clad in a tight, sparkly evening dress that you had worn to the club that Mor had taken you to earlier that night.

Azriel stepped out from his hiding place.

You jumped— even with your fae hearing and so many hours spent with your friend, you never adjusted to how sneaky the spymaster could be. He emerged from the darkness of the kitchen, donned in gray sweats that hung low on his hips, exposing a glorious stripe of tanned, hard muscle that you stared at shamelessly. The white t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest was criminal, and you had to actively avert your eyes from burning into his visage, finally forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

But Azriel was looking at you, too, taking in how your dress flawlessly hugged your every curve, the expanse of your arms and décolletage that laid bare in the sleeveless, sweetheart ensemble. He noted the matching heels that were kicked haphazardly underneath your seat, the hair now falling from the clip you’d pinned at the beginning of the night, your slightly glazed expression. A small smirk graced his lips.

“Az!” You sighed, a hand on your chest, “How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?”

The Illyrian only shrugged, approaching slowly. “How many times do I have to tell you to work on your awareness? Always take note of your surroundings?” He quipped back easily, coming to stand beside you. He was so tall that you had to crane your neck to look up at him, and you motioned for him to take the seat that Mor had vacated only minutes earlier.

You play-scowled as he obliged, only replying once he was sat, his large wings tucking in behind broad shoulders. “And why would I do that, when one of your shadows is always watching for me?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes widened, a faint blush tinging his cheeks. You wished you could commission Feyre to paint that expression— you loved how boyish it made him look, how cute. But he quickly recovered, that measured mask of cool returning to his handsome face. “You should be flattered. They seem to take interest in you.”

“Hmm,” you feigned thought, rolling your eyes to then land on him and bat your lashes, “Just them that are interested?”

The shadowsinger couldn’t contain his grin. Flirting with you was just too easy, and he loved when you looked at him like this, gave him all your attention. It never led anywhere, anyway— so really, it was harmless… right? He chose not to respond, shrugging and taking a sip of the teacup that the House had conjured for him.

You huffed, displeased. Azriel was always the one to cut your flirting short, only entertaining you to the point where you weren’t sure if he was just playing with you or if there was actually some sincerity in his antics. It was fittingly mysterious of him, and undeniably irritating. You decided you weren’t going to have any of that tonight, the remnants of your liquid courage just enough to push you a step further than you would otherwise go.

“Az, tell me—,” you crossed your arms over the table and leaned toward the spymaster who took another sip of tea, nodding for you to go on. It took every ounce of the male’s willpower to not drop his gaze to your cleavage that was now pressed onto the tabletop, squished between your arms. “— Have you ever made a girl come?”

Azriel spit out the hot liquid, wings going rigid behind his back and his scarred fingers clutching the tiny cup in his palm. You examined the fresh line of tea that was sprayed onto the table, slightly amused as the House began to clean it away. But you continued on, determined to get an answer.

“I’ve heard you have a long list of lovers, surely you know how to do it?”

The Illyrian’s cheeks were now a bright red, the most obvious display of emotion you’d ever seen from him. “What—” he stuttered, still shocked that you had really just asked him that. “—Who told you that?”

You frowned, tilting your head in your hands, elbows sliding out further onto the table. “I asked first,” you pouted, taking a sip from your cup.

The male fumbled for words. True, he had heard your conversation with Mor and yes, he did make the choice to come in and sit down with you but never would he have expected you to ask him such a thing, so outright, so brazen.

“…I have,” he finally replied, slightly hiding behind his cup. You’d never seen the shadowsinger look so timid; it was endearing.

“But how do you know you really did?” You queried, looking at him curiously. “I mean— girls can fake it, so how do you really know?”

Azriel seemed offended at your insinuation. But he only pursed his lips and said, “My question…?”

You clicked your tongue and answered, “Cassian and his big mouth. And then Rhys with his… And maybe Mor at some point as well.”

His face contorted into a scowl, shadows coming to lick at his shoulders. But he decided to save his revenge for later, instead meeting your inquisitive gaze and deciding that your intention was not to slander him. “I am almost certain that my partners have never faked completion,” was all the explanation he gave.

“But how do you know—”

“Do you fake a lot of orgasms, Y/N?” Azriel shot back, his turn to pose the picture of nonchalance as he leaned on one elbow, hand on his cheek.

Your cheeks burst into flames. “W-What? No— I—”

The shadowsinger smirked at your flustered babbling. He was tempted to poke at you some more but took pity, instead savoring how cute you looked when you were embarrassed. But you couldn’t find the strength to answer, so he went on to fill the silence.

“If a man cannot make you finish, you should move on and find someone who can,” he said calmly, studying your bashful gaze that was now fixed on the table before you.

You sat up, removing your arms from the table so you could cross them over your chest, guarding yourself. It was your choice to enter this conversation but now it was getting a little too real, and your mortification was getting worse by the minute as Azriel’s steady hazel eyes were pinned to your every movement.

“Yeah…,” you agreed. In theory, his advice was all good and well, but there was no way that it would be that easy. “That’s hard to find, though.”

Azriel gauged your expression, wondering if he should admit he heard your earlier confession to Mor. But you seemed so embarrassed, he didn��t want to make you any more uncomfortable.

“Is there, like, a class you took or something? Maybe you can introduce me to one of your fellow classmates,” you attempted a joke, but the shadowsinger’s gaze only hardened, the corner of his lip twitching in distaste.

Jealousy and possessiveness swirled in his gut, not liking that you had just asked him to set you up— even if you had only meant it as a joke. You were not his, yet your faux request rubbed him the wrong way.

But the slightly hurt look you were giving him now was enough to wipe away any ill emotion that had briefly bloomed. “Just kidding…,” you murmured, fingering the handle of your now-empty tea cup.

Azriel fought to find the words that could navigate him through this strange situation. If only somehow he could reassure you, offer his services, but not ruin your friendship, nor come off creepy.

He took too long, because you rose, excusing yourself, “I think I better get to sleep.” Your cup disappeared and you quietly thanked the house, turning away from the male and heading toward the bedrooms.

The spymaster stood as well, following you down the hall. Both your rooms were at the very end of the walkway, meaning he at least had another minute of your time. His heart beat quickly in his chest, desperate to smooth things over with you, desperate for however much longer he could get with you. “I did not take a class,” he said, matching your pace.

You shot him an inquisitive look over your shoulder.

“One of the marks of a true man is to be able to fully pleasure a lady.”

You laughed, pausing so that you could walk by his side. “So you think of yourself as a true man? What is that supposed to mean?”

Azriel smirked, glad that your disposition seemed a little looser. “It means, I’ve had five hundred years to cultivate my skills.”

“Riiight, with your countless lovers,” you quipped, a little smirk growing on your lips.

A scarred hand pushed you gently, just hard enough to let you know he didn’t appreciate such accusations— even if they held some truth. Those gorgeous hazel eyes rolled as he clicked his tongue, about to shoot something back when you arrived at your door.

You didn’t reach for the handle though, instead turning to look up at him as your back brushed against the sturdy wood of your threshold. “Thanks for all your—,” you blushed, gaze fleeting, “insight.”

Dark brows furrowed at you. You had said it in such a meek little voice, your hands wringing with anxiety. It was easy for him to read your body language, but also, his earlier eavesdropping had cued him in more than you knew. Even though your conversation had made him seem like the one with all the expertise, his heart was slamming wildly against his ribs, tanned cheeks feeling hot. Somehow the spymaster managed to keep his composure and dared to take the leap.

“May I ask why you are so curious all of a sudden, little dove?” He said, a gleam in his gaze. “Would you like for me to prove myself to you?”

You chuckled, shocked, unbelieving. “That joke is deplorable— I think you’ve been spending too much time with Cassian lately. ”

Usually a jab at his brother would make the shadowsinger bark out a laugh, but he remained stoic, looking down at you with profound intensity. The two of you stared at each other, and you found yourself unable to look away. There was always something about Azriel that drew you to him, and in that moment, as he leaned a hand against the door behind you and filled your senses with the scent of cedar and crisp, chilled night…

His gaze flicked down to your lips.

You studied his, the full, soft pink calling to you.

Azriel could barely find the strength to resist kissing you, his face only inches from yours. The sweet, fresh smell of you was so devastatingly strong with such a short distance between you, and the way you were looking at him… he swore he could discern hunger in your beautiful, captivating gaze…

“Do you want that to be a joke, Y/N?” he murmured, warm breath washing over your cheek. The tip of his nose just barely scraped yours, another muscular arm coming to trap the other side of your body so he had you right up against the door with no escape. “I did not intend for it to be, but if that’s what pleases you…”

You looked at him with wide eyes, a shiver running through you. A new scent greeted your nose, and your lips parted as you took it in, your body shamelessly eating up the smell of his growing desire.

The shadowsinger licked his lips, gaze piercing yours as he detected the beginnings of a similar, honeyed scent emitting from you. There was no going back now, he decided. He was closer to you than ever, and he couldn’t pretend he could find satisfaction in you both returning alone to your rooms, not tonight. He dared to caress your jaw, the smooth skin a contrast to the rough texture of his scars.

“It’s your pleasure I seek, always…,” he said, and you held your breath, unblinking as you beheld his astounding beauty up close. “I only aim to please you… will you allow me to?”

Permission— he was asking permission. You could barely think; was he serious? Azriel was not the type to fool about things of such gravity… If this was some cruel joke…

Before you could give it much thought, your mouth was already moving. “Yes,” you breathed, answering him so quietly it was nearly inaudible, “Please, Azriel…”

The Illyrian’s brow twitched and he shuddered. He leaned down lower, lower— big, gentle hands coming to brace the small of your back and the nape of your neck, a thumb slipping along your jaw to point your face up to his… slowly, slow enough to give you the chance to change your mind… You leaned forward, eyelids fluttering shut. Another second went by and then, he kissed you.

Time stopped, and everything else faded away.

His lips pressed against yours and your arms wove around his neck, every place your skin touched exploding with sparks. The smell of him and his desire overwhelmed your senses, your knees weakening as he claimed your mouth with his, pressing you against him harder, hungrier.

You were snug between the door and his broad, powerful body. His hands squeezed at your hips, then slid down to your ass and lifted you effortlessly, your legs securing around his waist. The small friction of your core rubbing against his abs through your clothes was enough to make you gasp for breath.

Azriel seized the opportunity, his tongue coasting into your mouth without caution. The slick muscle wrestled with yours and you pulled at his hair, savoring the quiet moan that spilled onto your lips. You wanted more— to explore more of his skin, discover more of those sounds… Wordlessly the shadowsinger came to the same realization, fumbling with the door handle and tucking the two of you into the privacy of your room.

Your hair fanned out onto the pillows as the male deposited you on your bed, muscled thighs coming to part your legs and settle himself on his forearms above you, lips never leaving yours. It felt unreal to be consumed in the shadowsinger’s kiss, to have his hard body pressed up against yours and your hearts pounding together in harmony.

He felt the same, hardly believing you were really here beneath him, your small hands caressing his arms and his neck, fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulders and curling into his thick onyx locks. Finally he tore his mouth from yours, panting, studying your breathless form under him. “You are so gorgeous,” he praised, licking his kiss-bitten lips, hazel eyes ablaze as he examined the valley of your breasts. Before he leaned closer, he whispered, “Your safe word is moonlight, should you want to stop at any time.”

Though you didn’t plan on using it, you appreciated the consideration… and you wondered just what the male had in mind that might require such a precaution. But he captured your attention once more and you murmured his name as he moved to trail his tongue down your jaw and nibble at your throat, slowly making his way to plant open-mouthed kisses on your exposed cleavage. He pawed at the top of your dress, taking his time as he memorized the taste of your skin, tugging the material down. Your breasts spilled out for his eager mouth to immediately greet, soft lips capturing a nipple and his tongue rolling over it while his fingers found the other. Instinctively your hips bucked up against his, pleasure tickling you as he gave all his attention to your chest, grinding his aching cock into the mattress below.

Teeth grazed the sensitive nub and a moan escaped you at full volume, your cheeks burning when a ravenous glint met the shadowsinger’s eye. With just one swift look you knew he would do anything in his power to elicit more of those sounds from you, and your excitement only bloomed further as a hand slid up the slit in your dress, rough fingers raising goosebumps on your now-exposed thigh.

He kept busy as he explored your chest, sucking and kissing the swell of your breasts. The slow trail of his fingers up your thigh had you clenching in anticipation, whining when the digits brushed the lace edge of your dampening panties.

“Az, wait,” you huffed, causing the male to release your breasts, his warm gaze coming to inspect your face. Even though it was an embarrassing admission, for some reason you felt the need to inform him of your predicament. “I um— I’ve never… No one has ever been able to…”

Hazel pierced into you from his lower position on the bed, his broad shoulders steady and wings taut behind his back. He finished your sentence for you, ceasing your struggle, “…make you cum?”

Just hearing him say it made your soul want to leave your body, and you shut your eyes, nodding, wishing you could just skip this part. A gentle hand cupped the corner of your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek with such tenderness that you dared to meet his gaze.

“I’m honored to be the first,” Azriel stated, unwavering as he looked deep into your eyes. His own were peering into you, the gold in his irises seeming to shine even in the dark of the room.

Your mouth opened to protest that he lower his expectations, but his thumb pressed into your parted lips and the words died in your throat. There was sheer determination in the look he was giving you— promise.

“Don’t think,” he whispered, his other hand coming to pull you down the sheets, back flat on the duvet and now squarely underneath his entirety. His toned body dwarfed yours and his ability to maneuver you with such ease made something distinctly female stir deep inside of you. “Just relax and focus on me. Focus on how my hands feel on you, my lips…”

A mewl escaped you as he leaned down to kiss the hollow of your neck, your head turning into the blanket while he left his mark on your throat. Your hips squirmed and his own pressed down in response, the hard length of him reaching for you through his sweats. The heat that resonated there made you dizzy, a fresh wave of desire pulsing through your pussy as he rutted against it.

The Illyrian’s groan rumbled across your skin, and he sank lower, again taking your breast into his mouth, an elbow digging into the mattress to hold himself up and curl a large hand around the back of your waist. The other wandered up your dress again, this time his fingers immediately cupping your core through your soaked underwear.

A string of quiet moans floated from your lips as his fingertips began to map your dripping cunt through the soiled material. The firm press of his digits against your entrance teased you until they wandered up to slowly rub your clit, his teeth grazing at your nipple. You whimpered, face twisting in ecstasy. Already the shadowsinger was making you feel better than anyone else had, and you weren’t even fully undressed.

At the realization, you fisted the cotton of his shirt. He complied instantly, ripping the article off of him with no issue, and you watched as the tattered cloth was swallowed by the shadows that danced at the foot of the bed. You then took in the sight before you, mouth watering at his utterly male form— the tan, lean muscle that tapered from his wide shoulders to his narrow waist, the contours and bulges that made his long hours of training evident, black ink melding perfectly with the straight planes and dipping down under the hem of his sweats.

Your fingers wandered on their own accord to splay across his broad chest, tracing the tattoos that laid there and thumbing over his nipples. That bit a low moan from the male, and he leaned down and captured your lips once more, tongue dominating yours. His hands disappeared behind your back and suddenly the zip down your back was undone, the material slipping down your sides. You helped him free you of the gown, now only clad in your soaked panties, hips squirming as you throbbed with need.

“Azriel,” you whimpered when his lips touched your sex through the cloth, the male taking a deep breath of your honeyed scent, and closing his eyes. His brow pinched as he experimentally licked at you, your thighs twitching as he released a moan of approval.

You gasped when he tore the drenched fabric off of you effortlessly, his teeth bared in a quiet snarl. Then he grabbed your hips and dragged your pussy onto his mouth, tongue spreading your folds and moaning as he savored the taste of you. He dove into you and you cried out in pleasure, his mouth sucking and nibbling on your sensitive core, tongue dragging up and down your seeping slit with fervor.

All of his attention focused on you was making you delirious, your eyes rolling back as you relished the sensations he was causing. His hands tucked under your ass and grappled onto your hips, not allowing you to squirm away from his generous attack. He alternated between gently sucking on your clit, your folds… then washing the sensitive bud with the flat of his tongue, laving over you wave after wave.

You were clenching, your hole leaking more and more as your body begged for some kind of relief. Utter want throbbed through you as scarred fingers slowly made their way toward your core. All remnants of thought left your skull at the press of rough digits at your entrance. There was nothing you could say or do as a finger slid inside of you, nothing but stretch around him and keen, gasp for breath. Before you could even moan, a second pushed in and disappeared knuckle-deep, right beside the first. The foreign stretch made your thighs tremble around his face, his nose nudging your clit as he continued his ministrations with his tongue.

His name became a prayer on your lips, a chant as those blessed digits curled and his knuckles scraped parts of you whose existence you had not known before. Slick was pouring down your thighs now, the steady, rough friction of his scars rubbing so deliciously along your gummy walls. You forgot any worries you had harbored, left them far behind as Azriel brought you closer and closer to the edge.

At some point you started begging, actually begging— you couldn’t help how good the shadowsinger was making you feel, couldn’t think to filter the words mixing with your ragged breaths.

Azriel only trekked on, mouth earnestly working in sync with his hand, examining the furrow of your brow, the part of your lips, the roll of your eyes back into your skull. Only then did he speak, mouth popping off of you just long enough to encourage you as you circled the drain.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, the words vibrating through your cunt, tongue lashing against your folds between his praises. “I can feel your tight little pussy clamping down on me, I know you wanna cum…”

You could only whine and latch onto his shoulders as you hurtled toward that line no partner had ever been able to push you to, at full speed now that the shadowsinger was egging you on, pure filth falling from his lips.

“You can do it baby,” he purred, pressing another kiss to your clit, a brush of tongue following in its wake. “You’re gonna make me so proud, I swear my little dove, you’re right there… Come on pretty girl, cum for me, cum on my tongue.”

The tension in your belly heightened and you gasped, your body tensing under his firm grip and your back arching, teetering on the edge. And then you were cumming, your core gripping onto his fingers and pulsing, your head thrown back onto the sheets as you let out a long, sultry moan.

Azriel’s cock throbbed at the sound, his curiosity peaking as he wondered how your pussy would feel milking his cock like that, so tight and wet for him.

Your body was humming with bliss, fingernails embedded in the sheets beside your hips, your breath ragged and sweat glistening at your forehead. You’d only cum that hard a handful of times before, and it had taken a hell of a lot longer for you to get yourself to that point.

The Illyrian’s pace slowed, his fingers and his tongue still moving just enough to let you ride out your orgasm without overwhelming you. He continued to kiss your clit softly— even as his patience was wearing thin, his length crying for you, trapped tightly, painfully, beneath his pants.

His fingers finally fell from your entrance and he inspected the glossy sheen on them before he stuck them in his mouth. You watched as his tongue ran over every inch, savoring the taste of your cum. He pressed one final kiss to your clit and sat up, the tent in his pants more prevalent than before.

“I’m so proud of you, angel,” Azriel praised, a hand skimming down your thigh. His gaze was warm as he made eye contact, but the movement of his hand landing on his cock pulled your eyes from his.

You watched, still breathless as he firmly gripped his length through his sweats, a low sigh falling from his lips. He looked absolutely criminal touching himself like that, the shine of your cum still on his lips and his muscled torso heaving as he caught his breath.

All thought left your brain as his thumbs hooked the hem of his pants, dipping lower until you could see the base of his dark… thick cock. He pushed his pants down fully and your cunt clenched as his fully erect member slapped hard against his navel. The tip was the most beautiful shade of pink you’d ever seen, and your mouth dried as you examined the trail of glistening pre that dripped down the side. He fisted the base of himself, the wide vein running along the underside flexing as he twitched for you, eying the apex between your legs and your shared desire.

“See how hard you make me?” he said, a sinister glint in his gaze pinning you to the mattress. Both of you were fully naked now, and the sight of him approaching you, those big, ominous wings billowing with shadows behind him… he looked like a god, one that was about to completely decimate you. “See how much I ache for you? You completely own me, fuck… now that I’ve had a taste of that pretty little cunt, I’m yours.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was unclear whether this was just dirty talk, or if he really meant that, but in the heat of the moment, you allowed yourself to believe his words were sincere.

He crawled toward you, completely predator as he neared. Heat rolled off his bronze skin, his member reaching for you, wings shuddering in anticipation. “These lips are yours…” he murmured, mouth grazing over yours. You closed your eyes, your arm reaching around his head, fingers carding through his soft hair. “These hands are yours…” His scars skimmed down the curve of your side, tingles echoing in their wake. “This cock, it’s yours…” you gasped as his hot tip sliced through your folds, tracing down your slit with ease from the orgasm he had just gifted you.

You moaned, hips lifting and your sex sliding along the length of him, coating him in your essence. He groaned at the sight, his breath mingling with yours as he panted, watching your most intimate parts slide against each other, your love juices mixing.

“Please, Az,” you cried. You’d never been more turned on in your life, the very tip of him nudging against your hole, the promise of pleasure so close you could taste it.

The shadowsinger could barely hold himself back, but he needed to hear you say it. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded, grit in his harsh tone as he began to lose his manners.

“I want you to fuck me,” you replied instantly, inhibitions thrown to the wind. “Please, please— I need you to fuck me, make me cum with your cock, please Az—”

Whatever semblance of restraint the Illyrian had was lost then, his lips pulling back in a desperate snarl. The sound had your legs spreading, your body feeling fuzzy with the overwhelming urge to be filled by him, taken and claimed by him.

Your body sang as he speared the tip inside of you, your cunt stretching around the sizable girth of him. A whimper fell from the male as he lowered his hips, half his cock disappearing into your tight, wet heat. It felt like he was heaven incarnate inside of you, your eyes rolling back and your legs parting wider around his hips, welcoming him deeper inside of you.

Azriel obliged, his balls slapping the wet backside of your thighs as he surged forward. The moan that fell from both your lips was pure sin, your bodies exploding in pleasure as they connected in the deepest, most intimate way, him fully seated inside of you.

Slowly he started to thrust, hips almost shaking at the all-consuming pleasure that was washing over him. He was already fighting his orgasm as he began to find his pace, the moans he was summoning from you urging him to press deeper, harder.

Again and again his hips slapped into yours, burying that impressive length deep within you. The depths he reached made your eyes cross, your pussy squeezing down on him, and your mouth drying from the constant panting he had you victim to.

He was growling into your ear, sweat sticking his hot chest to yours as he exerted himself. The sounds that tumbled from him only made your slickness grow, a wet patch forming beneath your ass as he started slamming into you with reckless abandon.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” Azriel crooned, his face falling so that the bridge of his strong nose skimmed your cheek. It made his breath fall on the crest of your ear, rendering you privy to all the low, delicious noises that slithered out of his mouth. “M’gonna take good care of you, promise…”

Suddenly he pulled out and you wailed at the loss, but he was already flipping you over before you could register what had happened. He yanked you onto your knees, landing a quick slap on your ass before he nudged your legs apart and pushed himself into the new space. His cock dipped into your folds from behind and he loosed a delectable moan as he slid all the way back inside.

From this angle, the tip of him prodded a sacred, uncharted spot that had you shaking, arching your ass onto him and your back bowing in submission. The place he was reaching at the end of your inner walls made you weak, the hard length of him too euphoric for you to handle. He gave a tentative thrust, a hand coming to fist the hair by your scalp, the other weaving around you to tweak a pebbled nipple between his fingers. You sobbed at the newfound intensity, your stomach knotting and your hips sliding back on their own accord, once again seating yourself at the base of his cock.

“You like having me all the way inside, hmm?” he gasped, thrusting deep and hard, the clench of your cunt almost tempting his load straight out of his aching balls.

You gasped an affirmative, each thrust making stars dance on the back of your eyelids. “Yes, ah— yes, deeper— Az!” It must have been your g-spot he was ramming into because you could barely sit upright now, your body nearly collapsing in pure pleasure. “There, oh please right there!”

Azriel’s hand at your chest dove down, a large palm landing right above your womb, right where his cock nestled inside your throbbing cunt. “Here, baby?” He gave a few more thrusts, the very tips of his fingers nudging your engorged clit. “Feel my cock right here, dove? I’m right here inside you, fuck—“

You cried as he continued, ruthlessly pounding into you, the hand in your hair pulling your head back so he could manipulate your body and bend you into the perfect angle to continue hitting that spot.

Again you were rushing toward completion, completely stupefied by the shadowsinger rearranging your guts from behind. The pleasure was too intense— with each thrust his huge, thick cock stretched you to the brim and dragged against that delicious spot deep inside. Sweat dripped down both your bodies, heat and the lewd slap of his wet front against your ass filling the room again and again. His name became the only word you knew, a raspy chant as he brought you closer, closer—

You came with a silent cry, pussy pulling tight and fluttering down onto his hard cock. This orgasm was even stronger than the last, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as his thrusts slowed, the intensity of your throbbing too great for him to continue his quick pace. Rough fingertips continued to circle your clit, drawing out your euphoria as you slumped into his strong chest, trembling with pleasure.

The Illyrian was fighting every inch of himself not to cum right then, blood tanging on his tongue as he bit the inside of his cheek. He refused to violate your perfect womb with his seed, even if every fiber of his being was screaming with the need to claim you as his. But he would not relent to his desires, not without your permission. And he didn’t want to finish yet, not when this was the highest he had ever felt, sheathed inside your ethereal body. So he clutched onto you and channeled all of himself into supporting your weary frame, rubbing your clit as you floated back to earth.

Once you had ceased twitching, Azriel laid your back onto the sheets again, joining you on his side, adjacent to you. You were still panting as you came back to reality, examining his mussed hair and how it clung to his damp forehead, the flecks of pure gold in his hazel irises, his slick, still-hard cock— a ring of your cream adorning the base of him.

Wordlessly you wiggled closer and kissed him. He moaned in surprise, either at how soft and sweet your kiss was, or at the touch of your small hand wrapping around his aching length. You jerked him slowly, the sound of it absolutely obscene, your thumb grazing over the weeping head where precum had once again begun dripping out. Your back pressed up flush against his chest, guiding his cock to your center and slipping the head into your slit, hips pushing into his.

The shadowsinger’s vulgar moan rung out as your warmth surrounded him again, your nails scraping his scalp. An arm slipped beneath your waist, his grip securing on the opposite hip and fully penetrating you once more. This position had your pussy tighter than before, and his chest shook as he tried to breathe normally, trying to fend off his orgasm. His finger slipped to the back of your head again, this time much gentler than before, just to turn your face and peer into your soul.

Azriel couldn’t find it in himself to thrust, just savoring how your bodies were completely intertwined like this, feeling absolutely one with you and staring deep into your gaze. But you wanted him to cum— needed it, pressing your ass flush onto his hips and clenching tight. The male’s broken growl was his only reply, words failing him. It was he who had planned to drown you in pleasure; he had not been prepared for how incredible you would truly feel, how whole he felt when he was inside of you.

You reached down and cupped his balls, feeling how tight and heavy they were with his seed. Azriel’s teeth grazed your lip at the movement, his body starting to shake with the need to release everything he had deep within you.

“Y/N,” he choked out, hips starting to press tentatively to yours on their own volition.

You studied the desperation on his handsome face, the shake in his thighs at each slow thrust, the dull fingernails that dug into your skin as he clung to you. “Azriel,” you moaned, he was reaching that spot again and rutting into it so slow, hard and precise… you could hardly think as pleasure filled your brain with fog once again. “Please… Need you to cum inside of me.”

Azriel groaned, tongue wrestling with yours and conceding as he began to lose himself in you. His thrusts became slower, sloppier, so you hooked your leg around his and began to arch back into him. The Illyrian began panting, fingers grappling onto your hips.

“This cock is mine,” you purred, repeating his earlier words, your ass slapping back against him harder.

His fingertips were blanching, the sight of his wet length sliding in and out of you from behind as you fucked yourself onto him mesmerizing.

“This cum is mine, too,” you squeezed his balls again and he let out a loud whimper, his orgasm surging forth as he started to meet your thrusts. “Give it to me, fill me up with your cum— fuck Az, need it deep inside me, please.”

He snapped, suddenly hard and fast and deep, a few more snaps of his hips that had you crying for him until— The most pornographic moan sounded for him and he pushed every inch of himself inside of you. His wings fluttered, thighs shaking as he gripped onto you and smushed you into the mattress under his weight. Warmth filled your belly as hot waves of cum spurted deep into your womb, his cock throbbing as you pulsed around him, milking every drop you could get. Sharp teeth lodged into your neck as he emptied himself inside of you, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself up as to not crush you completely.

Sweat dripped from his breathless form onto your back, and you laid there blissfully as you caught your breath. The sheets beneath you were completely ruined, drenched in sweat and slick and cum, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care; not when Azriel was naked on top of you, cock sheathed all the way in and his cum spilled deep in your womb.

After a minute, the shadowsinger’s dark chuckle sounded from above you, his fingers tracing down your spine. “Naughty little thing,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear before he laid a kiss there.

You smirked, squeezing onto his cock that was still inside of you, retorting “You like it. You like me~”

He growled lowly, nipping you with his teeth. But he nuzzled you then and your heart melted, his lips ghosting over your cheek as he said, “I do. Very much, in fact.”

You whined as he pulled out of you, the loss of him much too noticeable for comfort. But he was right there, turning you onto your back with care, pressing soft kisses into every inch of your sweat-slicked skin. You could feel his release seeping out, the sheer amount of it too great to stay tucked inside where you so desperately wanted it to be.

Azriel gently pulled your legs apart, inspecting the slow stream of creamy white that trickled out of your raw entrance. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to last long enough for you to cum again,” he said, a thumb running down your soaked folds, “I know you were getting there…” He licked his lips as you clenched under his heated gaze, embarrassed that he was outright admiring your most intimate part. Was he seriously apologizing for not giving you a third orgasm? “Allow me to make it up to you, angel.”

The male leaned down and pressed a kiss to each thigh, sliding back onto the foot of the bed and pulling you with him. You shot him an incredulous look as he settled between your legs, lips just inches from your soiled cunt. There was no way he was really about to do this— the mix of your cum with his was spread wide, coating your inner thighs, your pussy, your ass.

His tongue was like lava as he licked at you experimentally, eyes taking note of the shock apparent in your expression. Hazel glinted at you as he began to make out with your ruined center, his seed dripping from you as he made you clench. But he didn’t seem to mind the taste of himself, for he closed his eyes and traced his tongue down to your messy hole, petting you unabashedly, happily, even.

You didn’t think he could get any hotter. But this… this was outright perverted. Your core felt aflame at the sight, his pure enjoyment as he devoured the mixture of your cum like it was the most sacred delicacy. It had you moaning, legs trembling around his head, clit throbbing as he kissed and sucked at the poor bud.

Deft fingers brushed your core and were immediately coated in that same mixture, slick pouring from you as the shadowsinger continued his depraved quest. Two entered you with no warning and your back bowed, the digits instantly searching for that sweet spot as they pushed through the river of his release. A third joined and you released a garbled sob as they found their target.

Azriel, ever the observant one, took note and pummeled the spot relentlessly, knuckles curling as they slid in so they achieved full stimulation. His tongue was flat against your clit, licking you back and forth, and you were so sensitive from your previous orgasms that tears dotted the side of your eyes, your breathing ragged.

“Az, oh Gods— I—,” you mewled, hips squirming as the pleasure became too much. “Please, I can’t, it’s too much!”

But the Illyrian did not stop, would not stop unless he heard your safe word, his fingers picked up speed. “Come on baby, one more. Just one more,” the words vibrated through your cunt as he held you down, palm flat atop your tummy and pressing your sweet spot down so that it was even more vulnerable to his attack. “Trust me, it’s gonna feel so good angel, I swear.” His lips took hold of your abused pearl and he ravished you, his cum squelching as his fingers drove into you without reprieve.

Pressure gathered deep in your core and you whimpered, the intensity of your pleasure so great it was almost painful. You were close— so close to something big, you could feel that it was different from before with the way your cunt leaked and throbbed, the way your entire core felt on fire.

“Please—” you gasped, not even sure what you were pleading for, “Fuck Azriel, please, yes—!”

You screamed as you came, white-hot ecstasy imploding from your center. You nearly lost consciousness, your eyes crossed with utter bliss as liquid sprayed out of you and onto the shadowsinger’s chest. His chin, his torso, your thighs, and sheets, all of it was drenched as you couldn’t stop the squirt from pouring out of you. Fast fingers replaced his mouth and continued rubbing your clit, only slowing once you had ceased squirting.

Your entire body was shaking, toes curled into the filthy sheets, your brain trying to catch up but it was a mile behind your body.

“I’m— Az, I,” you stuttered, attempting to sit up, shock and shame taking root in your chest. The male was completely drenched from the chin down, the sheets beyond salvation. “I never— I’m sorry—“

A towel appeared from his shadows, and he swiftly wiped himself dry before he joined you on the bed, uncaring of the huge damp spot that now lay beneath you two. He shushed you with a kiss, taking your trembling form into his arms, a hand tucking your hair behind your shoulder. His lips were soft, his touch gentle as he tucked you against his chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I am so proud of you,” he said quietly, his low voice rumbling in your ear, “You did so well, little dove. Now let me clean you up.” His praise sent a pleasant warmth through your bones, and you curled closer to the male, basking in his embrace.

Secured in his arms, his shadows enveloped the pair of you in darkness, their cool caress whispering on your skin. Then, you were hovering over a large marble bath, steam wafting from the filled basin that Azriel was standing in the middle of. Slowly he lowered the pair of you into the water, holding you tighter when you squeaked at the heat from the water leaching into your tender core. He sat behind you, wings stretched over the lip of the tub, your chest against his back.

Wordlessly he tied your hair back and ran a damp cloth over your skin. You were still coming down from your high, the warmth from the water and the strong male at your back making your eyelids droop, exhaustion ebbing into your body. He held you up and washed your back and then his front, and when you leaned back against him, you somehow found the strength to smirk at the erection evident behind you. You scooted back to brush your ass against him and he growled lowly in your ear. The sound sent shivers through you, and you turned to face him, looping your arms around his neck.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, humming in content. The Illyrian kissed the top of your head, large hands supporting your weight as he lifted you from the water. The soft brush of a towel met your skin and his quiet laugh graced your ears when you refused to separate from him, your wet front clinging to his. Eventually he was able to pry you off of him so that he could fully dry you, but it took many kisses of encouragement and gentle praise.

Finally he placed you onto his bed, the silken sheets welcoming your clean, naked skin and flooding your senses with his strong, woodsy scent. Azriel slipped in beside you, his inked arms wrapping around you as he laid on his side, nose tucked into your hair, covering you under the blankets.

“So, did you fake it?” he whispered in your ear just as sleep was about to take you. He had clearly proven himself, teasing you now that you had experienced his full talents.

You swatted him with what little strength you had left, a lazy smile curling the corner of your mouth. “You’re deplorable,” you said and he laughed, gathering you closer to his chest.

You didn’t know what this night would mean moving forward, but you didn’t have the energy to care at the moment— completely drained from the earth-shattering orgasms the shadowsinger had summoned from you. You had the feeling he didn’t want to question it now, either, not as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, not when he had you naked, in his arms, in his bed. So you succumbed to slumber, content to leave the questions for the morning, your heart full and your body completely sated for the first time in your life.

⤷ masterlist

#azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel smut #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #angelshadowsinger #my work #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger

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livelaughlovesubs · 6 months ago

Note

Hii can I request teaching Bram how to ride you after he just got his body back after so many centuries?

Heyyy, Ofc you can! I love riding sm- also sorry for taking so long (also I kinda made it romantic for no reason sorry)😭

Dom!reader x sub!bram

Warning: the beginning is fluff only - aka romance (kinda meh I’m sorry), nsfw under the cut, pegging (I use dick), riding, fingering, praise kink, soulmates (?)

It was like a miracle that you found him, as if destiny desperately wanted to play a prank.

You were going on a walk, aimlessly wandering around with no special purpose. Life has been treating you well, though you have been feeling an unexplainable yearning for a long time now. As if a part of you was missing, something very dear and important to you, enough to leave you with a sense of emptiness. Every single day you’ve been doing this, walking along the shore of Yokohama. It was almost laughable how much you trusted your guts, on some days you’d feel pretty pathetic because of it but you’d still do it anyway.

Not even you could explain why, you only followed instincts.

That was until today, until this moment where you finally understood what your purpose in life was. There he was, standing amidst the sand in front of the setting sun. The vibrant colours of the dusk blending into a skilfully created masterpiece. The horizon was hanging low, making it possible to see far into the distance. A black shadow stood out, all alone, quietly, gazing into the far ocean while the waves splashed against the beach.

It wasn’t rare for people to take a stroll around here, especially during such a cinematic time and period. Though never have you ever been so mesmerised by such encounters. Something about that person was different, once again your guts told you so. When you got closer to the figure, you noticed his long silver hair fluttering in the breeze, along with his coat. You were still contemplating on how to approach him, when to your dismay the person turned around and looked you straight into the eyes. For a moment, it was as if your soul escaped your body.

As if your heart stopped beating, your lungs failed to function, the shock and uniqueness of this meeting causing you to hold your breath. He was just so beautiful.

With newfound determination, you walked up to him and introduced yourself, apologising for being sudden. His eyes were a wine red, a bright yet most elegant shade of crimson you’ve ever seen. The expression he wore was nothing special, even so it still touched your heart like nothing words alone could describe. It was weird, you didn’t believe in love at first sight, but maybe he was worth believing in. When he heard your name, his eyes widened and his pupils shook, lips slightly parted as if to showcase his sharp fangs. “You..” That person began, then stopped themselves. He bawled his hands into fists while his cheeks reddened. You noticed how his breathing became ragged, and you were almost worried about him before he continued with, “I’m glad to see you are back.”

“I see you really don’t remember.. well, my name is Bram, Bram Stoker.” It would be an understatement to say you weren’t surprised by his words. On one hand his name seemed so familiar, it gave you Deja vu, yet on the other hand you couldn’t remember. Apparently this man was a vampire, who only recently reclaimed his human body. A vampire who lived hundreds of years, who was your fated lover in a previous century. This was hard to believe, even for someone like him who was mystical in every way possible. To think his mortal lover would get reincarnated and meet him in another life time, waiting for him to return like this.

As soon as you met him, learned his name, the hole inside your heart vanished. Dissipating like the fog on a dreamy morning. Destiny was truly unpredictable, it brought forth surprises no one could be prepared for. This made you curious, also a little awkward. He was your lover in another life, would it be appropriate to repeat the same process in this one as well? And, you wanted to know how your previous self was like. The two of you sat down on a bench in a park near the strand, facing the warm blanket that covered the sky while it slowly sank into cold tones. He told you storied from the good ol’ times, answered your every question with patience as he looked at you with the same yearning he described to have had decades ago.

What was there not to love about him? It seems like the previous you adored him for the exact same reasons. When the question of intimacy popped up, it appeared to make the male to falter. He took a moment to remember the times you two would do the deed, and his face immediately flushed red. That only made you even more curious, what did you do to make him all flustered like this? At first he was reluctant to tell you, due to his own embarrassment, then he remembered how you and his other love are basically the same person. In the end, he succumbed to your stubbornness to know.

“You’d do… well, this and that.. and make me, er, do that and what not..” Great. You understood everything. “Moving on, if we went that far, did we kiss?” Once again his face heat up, but this question didn’t embarrass him to the point he couldn’t answer. “Yea, you.. kissed me a lot. Awfully often.” Hah, sounds just like you. “Is that so? Then, please pardon me.” You said in a quiet tone, gently tugging his hair behind his long ears before kissing his lips. Despite him getting caught off guard, he didn’t pull away, instead he returned the kiss. Closing his eyes as he reminded himself of how much he missed this feeling.

It seems the partner fate decided for you wasn’t talented in explaining, or at least not in these matters. Since he didn’t expose many details except the fact that you made him do this and that, you had to take a guess yourself. In the end, you invited him over to your home near the beach, deciding to find out whether or not you two were compatible in bed. You lied down on the soft mattress, ordering him to come closer and climb on top of you. Then you asked, “did the other me also made you do this?” He nodded, looking away in shame. How cute.

You grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed its content onto your length, noticing how he was staring at you with shrinking pupils. “You can take this, right?” He didn’t reply, he only bit his own bottom lip. Since he haven’t answered you yet, you didn’t continue, staring up at him and waiting for him to respond. “I was never… actively on top. I-… what should I do?” Bram eventually admit, his eyes were half lidded, to the point only a thin line could be seen. “It’s alright, I’ll teach you.” You chuckled, before holding his slim waist and making him hover above your pelvis. “Ah..” he gasped as electricity coursed through his body, his breathing was becoming more shallow with each passing second.

“First, you have to prepare yourself.. may I be so bold as to claim you have never done this with anyone but me?” It wasn’t a bold claim, it was the truth. The vampire nodded, still lingering over you with a slightly arched back. “Then use your hand and stick a finger inside yourself, but don’t rush it, alright?” You whispered into his ear, then you grabbed his wrist to squeeze some lubricant onto his fingers. “Use this, it will the easier that way.” Bram tried to follow your orders, clumsily inserting his middle finger inside his hole. His rim tensed first, then loosened up, permitting him entrance. “Hnng- hah, is this.. right?” He asked you, looking for guidance. “Yea, just like that. Once you feel ready, do the same with a second finger before scissoring them.”

My.. how humiliating. Now the prince of the dead was spreading himself open in front of some mortal, putting on a degenerate display only for your amusement. The worst was it felt good. He bit down some more onto his lips, to the point blood was running down his chin. You leaned closer to him and clasped your hand over his, then sticked one of your fingers inside him along with his. “Ah- you..! What are yo-you, hmNn.!!” Damn it, you were still a tease just like before. Out of nowhere you also licked the trail of blood away, savouring every drop and licking your lips afterwards. Who was the vampire now, huh?

“HgNn…ah, haah.. is this enough?” Bram was already panting like crazy, feeling his body shudder uncontrollably. You pulled your hand away, feeling the sticky liquid stick to your fingers like gum. He had a dazzled look on his face, almost as if he was melting due to the pleasure. The way you handled him was just like your previous incarnation, even the way you tackled all of his weak spots as if you still knew them. “Hmm, you tell me, do you feel ready enough to take me?” Once again he couldn’t answer you, only glaring at you as he slowly sank down onto your dick. He took his precious time doing so, gently going down at you. Everything was going smoothly until he took half of you in.

You couldn’t even ask him before he complained, “it.. it’s too big.. hahh, I can’t ta-take more….” Ah, he was so adorable. “It’s alright, take your time dear, I won’t rush you, I’ve been waiting for you all this time after all.” He nodded while clenching his eyes shut, focusing sorely on the feeling of you stretching his insides. Fuuuuuck…. It was too overwhelming, too good. After not being active for so long, he was like a virgin again. “I.. I really can’t, it’s so de-deep..! Uh-unghh.” All you did in response to his whines was draw circles on his sides with your thumbs, as well as whispering sweet praises into his ears. Sweet words of encouragement reached him, as in, “Don’t worry you are doing so well, it’s alright, I’m here.”

Eventually he managed to take all of you in, at the expense of his rationality. Not a single logical thought plagued his mind, all he could think about was the bliss spreading to every fever of his nerves. When he sat down on top of you completely, he couldn’t fathom it at first. By that time tears were dripping down his face while inaudible sobs left his mouth. “Good job, Bram, so good for me. Now, grind your hips this way.. right, just like that.. and slowly move up and down. Heh, that’s my good boy.” While you gave him instructions on how to move his body your hands also gently showed him the way. They were still around his waist, nudging him into the right directions.

He shook his hips so erotically, it send a shiver down your spine. Before long he was jumping up and down your cock while your hands forced him to move rougher, your own body snapping against his to trust into him harder. “UghNnnhh.!! Ha-hahhhh! Oh, it’s.. go-good, so UhmM!” Bram gasped and groaned, losing himself to the ecstasy as he exposed more and more of his hidden desires to you. And you were enjoying yourself room of course. You were feeding on his pleasure, loving every single moment. He really was your destined partner, your fated other half.

It seems destiny wasn’t playing a prank on you, rather, it was using you to write an unforgettable love story.

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub bsd #sub bungou stray dogs #sub bram #bsd bram #bram stoker #bungou stray dogs bram #bram bsd #Bram bungo stray dogs #bsd brainrot #bram x reader #Bram x y/n #bram x you

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tsw1234 · 14 days ago

Text

We Can't Be Friends (part 2)

Word Count: 1598

Pairings: Vampire Slayer!reader x Vampire!Dick Grayson

Synopsis: It's been months since the apocalypse. Discovering your newfound powers as a vampire slayer hasn't been easy, and with these newfound powers came new responsibilities like protecting the remaining civilians in Gotham from the creatures of the night, killing vampires alongside your courageous friends, etc...Yet there's just one thing blocking you from fulfilling your destiny, the very vampire you've been sworn to kill.

Notes: (Quickly) Proof read by me

Warnings: Smut, Angst

You knew this was wrong. You absolutely should not be doing this. Lord knows if you were to be caught, not only would it end badly for you but also your friends, your commune, and your little brother. Yet, it's as if something is compelling you to do this. You walk through the abandoned park en garde. Most sane people would show up with some sort of protection--like a stake or rosemary. But you're not sane, and the things that you've done as a result of armageddon wouldn't classify you as sane either.

Despite Gotham's ongoing events, its park seemed to be the one of few places unaffected by the apocalypse. The grass and tree leaves were coated white, due to December's icy precipitation. Following down the park's path of lights illuminating the snow-covered vegetation you arrive at your destination--- a bridge that provides a beautiful view of the park's scenery and its pond directly below you. It was truly spectacular. Nostalgia of kids and parents and images of Haley dogs running around resurface.

"I know you’re here Grayson?". You felt his presence when you entered the park, perks of being a vampire hunter. You know when they’re nearby. As soon as those words escaped your lips, he appeared in front of you; almost as if you summoned him, like a genie to its master.

“Hello to you too [nickname],” he says, sliding next to you. While you don’t turn to face him you can feel his eyes on you.

"I feel you staring at me."

"I prefer to call it admiring, princess," he states with a smug smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes at his smart remark.

"You lost your right to admire the moment you sent your brainless minions to wipe out most of humanity.".

"You broke up with me."

"So that gives you the right to kill people?"

"No, but it makes us even."

"Wrong again, you killed the man I loved. That ups the score 2-1, me." you challenge. The contrast between the two of you is vast--the deadpan on your face compared to the amused look on his. One could interpret the both of you to be having two separate conversations just based on facial expressions alone. "And who might that person be?" he asks cockily.

Silence fills the air. Your immediate reaction is to say him but, he's not the same man you loved--looks wise yes, but personality...?

"Why'd you do it...kill Bruce?". Dick's demeanor changes instantly, his body more tense; The once smug look on his face is replaced with a stoic expression.

"That's not your business."

"It is my business. They mattered to me--You matter-"

"You lost that right when you broke up with me.". Silence once again.

"Jason..."

"Alfred..."

"Damian-"

"Damnit [Name] I told you to leave it alone. Stop poking your nose in places it doesn't belong." he stern. The cold air details the exasperation in your conversation. The quietness between you felt odd, you don't never liked fighting with Dick. It was unnatural between you too and it seldom happened. But, when it did, it would get ugly. You were both passionate people and when your thoughts would rarely clash, it would take time for the person in the wrong to step forward and apologize.

"Do you know I'm supposed to kill you?". His eyebrows perk up at the shock of your abruptness.

"It's a part of my destiny or something..." you say as you cast a stone across the park's pond. Silence again.

"Why are you here [nickname]?"

"..."

"I mean you hate me. You hate what I am, what I've done--yet every time you ask to see me. Why?"

"I don't know..." you mumble. "What?"

"I don't know!" you shout letting out a voice crack.

"I don't know why I called! Maybe it's because I miss you...". To say that out loud hurt your soul. Of course, you've known that you had but to say it helped you come to terms with your emotions.

"Everywhere I go, I have memories of you--of us. You are a constant reminder of the life that I had because you were my life I know that I broke up with you and it haunts me every day but...you were one of the few constants in my life and I just feel like the day I stop agreeing to see you is one less piece of my old life.". You break down, all the many months of pent-up emotions gone just like that to the blue-eyed monster whom you loved.

"Come here..." he says, pulling you in an embrace. There you are, the very own vampire slayer destined to end the war on humanity allowing the wager of the war to console you. Here he is comforting your sniffles and cries, knowing that in the end, you have to kill him. How tragic.

"[Nickname], everything I do is for you or because of you. Whether or not you believe it. Why did I do it--kill all those people? I wanted to find a way to be with you forever and in the process, I had to sacrifice people I loved. You are what's keeping me sane, what's holding me back from killing the rest of humanity. It's you, princess."

You look up at Dick with your tear-filled puffy eyes. He rests his palm against your face, wiping away any tears that had trickled down your face. "I miss you too, like hell and I hate that you're going through this because of--"

You cut him off with a kiss. A much overdue one to say. Although caught off guard, Dick accepts it swiftly. Immediately his hand hugged your waist and ran up and down your back. Your fingers find their way to his hair, intricately running through them. The kiss between the two of you felt like a fever dream. It felt as if it was the last day on Earth and the both of you needed to kiss to survive. It was passionate, warm, and embracing.

He starts to move down your neck, peppering kisses as he goes and making sure to linger on your sweet spots causing you to release a soft moan. "Just as I remember huh?" he says in between each kiss.

"May I?" he asks, toying with the waistband of your panties. You feverishly nod, allowing him to help discard your clothes. After unclasping your bra, the icy winter air hits your nipples causing them to harden.

"You're just as perfect as ever, my pretty girl," he says as he dips two fingers inside of you. You try to suppress your moans but he's quick to break your resolve as his fingers hit a spot that hasn't been touched since the last time you've seen him. He speeds up his pace, being aware not to go too fast, yet too slow. "Fuck, Dick" you whine. The combination of the weather plus his touch helps you reach your orgasm fast.

"That's right princess, come on my fingers," he says as you let go. He sucks off the remnants of your release and proceeds to take off his pants. He lifts you and you wrap your legs around him. He rubs his tip up and down your entrance before putting it in slowly. You release a loud moan holding on to him--nails digging into his back. He starts steady and then goes faster resulting in you letting out several curses and shrewd moans. You both reach your climax in sync, letting go together. Too disoriented to move, he cleans you up and helps you put your clothes back on. Once you're both clothed, he pulls you into his arms--once more-- kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings. You both stay like that for a while, basking in the moment of bliss.

"[Name]" you hear a voice say bringing you back to reality. Dick is still holding onto your waist. But, instead of pushing him away, you secure his hold on you whilst looking into his blue eyes. You turn around to see your best friend, out of breath, bruised, and upset. You momentarily pushed whatever feelings for Dick you had aside and rushed to their aid.

"What happened?" you asked, helping them catch their breath. They said nothing but your sense kicked in, telling you something was wrong and for some reason, it gave you an inkling that Dick had something to do with it.

"They found us...and they have T.J.". they say, eyes focused on Dick. Your eyes shoot to your ex (lover?) in disbelief. He knows where your brother is, he has to! They're his men.

"How could you!" you yell, voice full of pain. You march over to where he stood, his face filled with confusion and guilt. "How could you let them take him? After everything that just happened!" you shout as you shove him.

"Where is he?"

No response. Another shove.

"Answer me! Where is he!". Silence once again. "I don't know," he replies full of melancholy. "You're lying. Tell me!" you urge.

"I don't know [nickname]," he whispers. Dick is feeling a whirlwind of emotions. The biggest one is hurt. He can't believe that you would believe that he would do this to you. After everything he had just said and done? He's going to find which one of his men did this and they're going to face the consequences. You shove him one final time before running over to your friend.

"Come on, we're going to find them and my brother," you say, shooting him a wicked glare, leaving Dick in a state of sadness, guilt, and anger.

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #red hood x reader #nightwing smut #dick grayson smut #angst #smut #vampire #buffy the vampire slayer

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yaksha-lover · 1 year ago

Text

Pink in the Night

i’ve always wanted to write a soulmate au :)

Malleus Draconia x Reader

wc: 5.9k

cw: reader is yuu, major character death, descriptions of violence/injury, mentions of fae heat (brief, sfw), pmmm inspired, yandere-ish

For the first few hundred years of his life, Malleus is convinced he doesn’t have a soulmate. While other children gleefully show off small scrapes and bruises that magically appear on their skin, Malleus’ own remained blemish free. He wonders if perhaps his soulmate is simply being considerate; trying to save him from harm by living a careful life.

He remembers when Silver first got a scrape on his knee, how the seven-year-old had started crying when it appeared. Lilia had consoled him and taken care of the injury, telling his son what it meant. By the end, young Silver had shed tears of excitement for the future.

A bittersweet feeling climbed Malleus’ throat at Lilia’s words to his son - fate, destiny, soulmates - it seemed the world had simply forgotten about him. Perhaps that was his destiny: to rule Briar Valley undistracted and alone, concentrating only on his kingdom. While uncommon, it wasn’t impossible - there certainly existed some unlucky enough to be born without one.

Five hundred years later and the time in which Malleus wished for a soulmate has long passed. The thought rarely crossed his mind anymore - it was no different than any other loneliness he’d felt it in his life. Unlike other children, he’d grown up without his parents. Just the same, he’d do fine without a soulmate.

The morning of NRC’s orientation on his third year, Malleus feels a sharp scratch on his arm, like that of the cat which had scratched him as a child when attempting to flee his touch. It’s faint and quick, and his fae blood means any visible mark is gone within a second. Malleus pulls down his sleeve anyway, eyes scrolling over the area of his wrist where he’d felt it. His pale flesh is as unblemished as ever; he almost feels like he’s hallucinated it.

The feeling leaves him in thought and he decides to take a walk on campus. Absorbed by the morning’s events, Malleus barely takes notice of the bustling of the students around him, all preparing for something he can’t quite remember; he makes a note to ask Lilia about it later.

Malleus walks until that the sky darkens into a deep azure. The tranquility of nature is soothing to him; he feels like just another one of the trees. The birds chirp freely in his presence, uninhibited by fear or distaste. Eventually he runs into Shroud, talking to himself in the courtyard. Malleus is almost pleased at the encounter: him and his fellow dorm leader seeking to find peace in similar ways.

The pleasantries are quickly dispelled when he realizes Idia is dressed in his black ceremonial robes. Malleus is confused, and Shroud quickly becomes defensive when he questions his choice. He does not struggle with the idea for too long. Malleus figures that perhaps there are things that fae and humans simply cannot understand about each other.

His day is quickly soured when Lilia informs him that he’s missed the school’s ceremony again. The distraction of another lost opportunity means he forgets all about the strange incident from the morning.

Time passes quickly for Malleus, it always has. He blinks and Heartslabyul’s dorm leader has overblotted. He blinks again and another Spelldrive tournament approaches.

Another late night, Malleus escapes Diasomnia dorm to take a walk by himself. He only has so long before Sebek realizes he is gone, so the prince makes haste to his usual spot.

Ramshackle reminds him of why he enjoys nature: it is another place where Malleus can simply exist amongst the gargoyles, where his presence causes no disturbance and nothing to change. It seems this kind of peace can only exist for him in places abandoned by others.

The solitude he’s enjoyed so long is shattered when this time, the dorm is not empty. A child of man walks out from the gates of the dorm, rubbing their eyes and dressed in simple clothing.

You seem as surprised to see him as he is by you. It catches Malleus even further by surprise that you do not cower at his appearance.

You offer your name, and Malleus finds it unusual. He is certainly well read, having been educated on all major parts of the world since he was a child (it wouldn’t do well for a prince to be aware of only his own kingdom), and yet, he has never heard of your name. He doesn’t dwell on the details, certainly it could be the mistake of the outdated nature of Briar Valley’s texts.

Malleus decides not to offer you his own name. He wonders if perhaps keeping it to himself would help maintain the serenity of Ramshackle; without his name, perhaps you will still treat him as just another person. He silently mourns the loss of this space, and vows to find more ruins in which he can find peace.

The next time Malleus sees you, you call him ‘Tsunotaro,’ and he laughs for the first time in a while. He’d thought maybe you were bluffing last time, pretending not to know who he really was. Your bravery to call him by this nickname is delightfully baffling.

You tell him about Azul and the contract, and Malleus almost feels sorry for how pitiful and doe-eyed you look. It’s not as though he can’t understand the sentiment. In a way, he’s grown fond of Ramshackle too. He leaves you with words of encouragement and disappears into the night.

Three days later, Malleus drops to his knees in his room, feeling like his bones are being crushed into dust. The pressure is so overwhelming he passed out.

He awakens on the bed of his room, with Sebek standing by his bedside. As soon as the half-fae sees his eyes flutter, Sebek is yelling out for Lilia and Silver to come. Malleus groans at Sebek’s loudness and lightly chastises him. He immediately apologizes in a softer tone as the two others come rushing in.

The prince moves his arms and legs, relieved to find them in tact. Although he feels sore, his bones and tissue are not fractured and split as he worried. He wonders if he’s dreamt the pain; it feels like a distant memory. The only thing that remains is a sort of empty pit in his stomach, but he supposes it’s likely because he hasn’t eaten. Lilia checks up on Malleus, pressing his small hand to his forehead.

‘Strange’, his guardian remarks. ‘A fae’s first heat is often painful, but it shouldn’t have been for someone like you. Well, at least it seems you slept through the worst of it.’

Malleus isn’t sure what it should feel like, but the crushing of bones definitely seems extreme. Still, he accepts Lilia’s explanation for his condition easy enough. He retained no actual injury, so there doesn’t seem to be any explanation other than his own body.

When Malleus feels well enough to return to his duties as housewarden, Lilia explains the situation he had been hiding from Malleus while he was in his incapacitated state.

It seems Ashengrotto was more dangerous than Malleus gave him credit for. Kingscholar and a few other students had stopped his overblot, but during the fight, destruction to the nearby dorm building caused a student to be crushed and killed.

Lilia explains the chaos that the school has been thrown into while he’s been asleep, the attempt at damage control by Crowley, and Azul’s further breakdown once he’d realized what he’d done.

Ashengrotto was hardly Malleus’ favourite fellow housewarden, but his situation was terribly sad. He knew, despite his greediness and flaws, that Azul was not a bad person.

As he walks around campus, the courtyard is empty of students. Malleus loves the quiet, but not like this. This kind of quiet is constrictive, like oxygen has left the air and Malleus can no longer breathe. He spots a single student walk down the hall, so distracted that he fails to even notice Malleus as he walks past.

The next few days pass in a similar silence. It seems even those who did not know the student who was killed are shaken by the event. Ashengrotto has left the school and gone home; Malleus isn’t sure if it was by choice or not.

Lilia encourages Malleus to attend the vigil for the student who died, stating his attendance to be important both as a housewarden and the future king of Briar Valley.

The two of them walk to the vigil, accompanied by Silver and Sebek. Malleus is so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’ve walked the path to Ramshackle dorm.

It’s then that he spots the giant picture of you, printed on a canvas, set in front of the dorm gates. You smile in the picture, but he can tell you were caught off guard by whoever took the picture. It’s not unflattering, but he’s surprised they chose that one. It seems more like a causal picture taken by a friend than one meant for a funeral. When he asks Cater later on, he’ll learn it was one of the few anyone had of you. The picture is surrounded by white candles, probably twenty or so.

Blue hair catches his eye and Malleus notices the two freshman boys he’d occasionally spot with you standing off to the side of the portrait. The redhead keeps his gaze cast down, but the blue-haired boy is unable to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. Malleus imagines if he was any closer, he’d be able to hear the soft sobs spill from his lips.

Malleus doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Lilia is ushering him quietly to stand behind the crowd. At his height, he’s still able to see over the rest of the students. A blur of grey flashes by his eyes as something runs between legs to the front of the crowd.

Grim sits frozen at the bottom of your portrait for a moment, the rest of the students going silent as they watch him. Malleus notices Leona standing off to the side of the crowd beside Ruggie, the two of them looking as glum as he’s seen; it’s strange for him to see the prince without his usual smirk or sneer.

The cry that breaks the silence a moment later replays in Malleus’ head for days. Grim’s grief at your death haunts him; the more he remembers it, the more the pit in his stomach grows.

It’s the pity that sets Malleus on his next decision. This experience, this loss the campus has faced has undeniably changed things. He feels sorry for you and your friends, of course, but mostly Malleus hates the silence he can no longer escape.

Malleus doesn’t bother telling Lilia; his guardian would likely try to stop him, but Malleus knows he’s in no danger. His grandmother had given him the magic shield only because she knew he could handle it.

The prince straps the small, metal shield to his wrist, before spinning it’s round edges until it aligns with his designated mark.

Malleus finds himself two days before Azul’s overblot. He knows he’ll have to do something before his heat becomes too much of an issue for him to intervene. The fae sneaks away from his guards in the middle of the night to place magic-resistance charms on the Octavinelle building; he hopes it’ll be enough to prevent your death and all its fallout.

The next two days play out just as before. Malleus finds this part of time-hopping quite tedious; the repetitive nature of reliving the same days over and over again. Although he supposes it isn’t much different than how he normally feels through the school year. Without extra events to attend, his routine is rather simple. Unchanging, even. That is the life of a fae as old as him; every day feels the same.

Some minor things feel a bit different than before: Malleus hadn’t remembered Kingscholar glaring at him from across the hall the last time around. The behaviour isn’t unusual for Leona, so Malleus doesn’t think too hard about it.

Malleus mentions to Lilia about his ‘bad feeling’ regarding Ashengrotto; he hopes it will be enough to entice him to keep watch of the situation while Malleus is forced to stay in his room and face his heat.

The prince waits in his room, staring at his stone ceiling. He anticipates the pain, but as the sky turns dark and his room is only lit by candlelight, nothing comes. His bones do not crush and his head does not splinter. He wonders if he’s made a mistake; could casting a simple spell and telling Lilia about the incident change enough to not have his heat come?

Malleus goes to see you once more after Ashengrotto is dealt with. He doesn’t expect to feel so…strange seeing you alive again. You thank him for the advice he’d never intended, but he can’t help but feel an unusual happiness at hearing you bring up the gargoyles.

He doesn’t see you for a while after that, but it’s difficult not to think of you. Things become busy, and so he sends you a holiday card to make up for his lack of visits. He feels oddly upset at your lack of reply. Perhaps you’ve discovered his identity and no longer wish…Malleus perishes the thought and resolves himself to return to your dorm when he can.

The next time you meet, snow covers the ground around Ramshackle. Something else has changed too; you look happy. He finds that the faint red that dusts your cheeks and nips at your nose… it becomes you.

When you pass him the tickets, Malleus starts to hear his pulse ring in his ears. Surely he’s misunderstood your intent? Your casual demeanour does nothing to quell his surprise.

Malleus composed himself before thanking you and promising to attend. He goes back to Diasomnia and makes Sebek vow to ensure he makes it there. He hates to use the half-fae’s devotion for his personal needs, but Malleus refuses to disrespect you by failing to attend the first event he’s been personally invited to since coming the NRC.

There’s still days before the event, but Malleus can’t stop thinking about the encounter. He is…ambivalent about you. In a way, you’ve given him hope and that is much worst than those like Kingscholar who outright reject his presence. You don’t know him, and so you do not fear him. Is it truly possible that his name and his position is all that keeps others away? Or perhaps you are special; Malleus allows himself to believe for a moment that you might accept him anyway, before banishing the thought to somewhere it will not harm him.

The day of the SDC, Sebek reminds him repeatedly of it’s time, and insists on guiding him to the event. Malleus declines Sebek’s request when he happens to feel a dull pain shoot against his shoulder, like he’s been hit by something heavy. He checks his body but no bruise colours his skin. Still, Malleus grows increasingly restless as he wonders, so decides to head over early.

This time, he watches your death in real time.

Schoenheit’s overblot form rages above you all. Malleus approaches the group, intending to step in, but sees the release of the poison mist a second too late. As the purple haze consumes your body, Malleus feels an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. When you fall to the ground, he feels his limbs grow weak and heavy. Suddenly, any pain is gone, and you have grown still.

The others are distracted by subduing Vil, not yet noticing your fallen form behind them. Malleus approaches you silently, and his stomach begins to turn the closer he gets. When he catches sight of the blood trailing down your left shoulder, he does not stop to help the students that now call his name.

Malleus turns his shield and he’s back in his room. He’s left himself a couple days before the SDC, just enough time to fix things.

Malleus wonders if you have any idea that he is your soulmate. He wonders how you would feel. Pleased? Ambivalent? Afraid?

He pauses on the last possibility and stays there until he is overwhelmed by a tight feeling in his stomach.

Part of him is angry as well. Malleus is one of the most powerful mages in this world, but the universe has decided his fate was to be bonded to a fragile human, and a magicless one at that.

He dismisses the thought as soon as it comes. No, it all makes sense. Malleus is strong precisely because you are weak; he was made to keep you safe, to protect you from anything that would seek to harm you. He knows that now.

If destiny has ensured you be bonded together, he will ensure it is forever.

Malleus sees you again, but now he only watches from afar. It’s strange to see you in this new light.

You are his soulmate. Someone the universe designed for him; someone who would be forced to accept him.

He casts a spell of invisibility as he approaches you, sitting outside Ramshackle with Grim. The two of you bicker gently, but Malleus is too focused on his goal to really notice. He casts charms of protection and invulnerability on you, and slips away as quickly as he can.

Malleus intends to leave, but he’s held in place by the sound of your laughter; it rings free and clear. He flees the scene before he can think too long about why the sound replays in his mind.

When the day of the SDC finally comes once again, Malleus is sure to enter the stadium early enough to sit in the shadows in case he needs to intervene.

His protection spells work as intended, and he only reveals itself when it’s time to reconstruct the stadium - he still has a show to watch, after all.

The others’ shock at your friendliness with him is quite amusing. Malleus imagines the surprise they’d feel if they knew you were his soulmate too.

Although he hadn’t really wanted to do it this way, Malleus figured that it’s necessary to reveal his real identity to you now; if you are to be his forever, there’s no reason to spare you the details.

Your continued use of the former nickname you’d given him pleases Malleus. It confirms to him what he’d believed - soulmates were obligated to love each other, no matter what. Even the fearful reactions of your friends did not serve to deter you from him. How could they? The two of you were meant to be.

In the days following the SDC, Malleus contemplates how to tell you that the two of you are soulmates. The matter is rather delicate and although the two of you are in a good place, he’d rather not reverse his progress.

He decides to consult Lilia, who is both surprised and overjoyed when Malleus shares the news. His guardian advises him not to rush into things, but rather to begin a courting process before revealing the truth, so as to not scare you away. Unfortunately, Malleus doesn’t have much experience in the area.

His first strategy is one traditional of his family; the giving of gifts over a period of seven days. Malleus sends letters back to Briar Valley to bring him the most expensive and desirable collection of jewelry and artifacts in the royal family’s care. Malleus’ grandmother writes back in congratulations and sends what he requested.

Unfortunately, he failed to account for the cultural differences between fae and humans. One night as he stops to chat with you outside Ramshackle, you pull out one of the gifts he’d left at your doorstep: an ancient necklace, said to be blessed by the original thorn fairy herself.

Malleus prepares himself to finally reveal the truth to you, excited that you’ve finally acknowledged his courting.

Then you tell him that you’re afraid you have a stalker and ask if he’s seen anyone lurking around Ramshackle, claiming that ‘cursed’ objects have been left anonymously at your doorstep.

Malleus takes a moment to compose himself (it’s a little rude of you to call his gift ‘cursed’) before promising to keep a look out.

He goes to Silver that very night to ask him about human courting rituals. Silver explains the concept of ‘dating’ to Malleus, and that night, the prince asks you to accompany him to dinner at the Mostro Lounge.

Malleus feels the excitement bloom in his chest when, after walking you home from dinner, you ask him to attend a play with you the following week.

The two of you go on many dates, until he’s begun spending the free time he has at Ramshackle.

Sitting on your couch, he makes a mental note to make renovations to some of the older furniture when he has a chance. He’d like to preserve the ruins look of the building, but not at the cost of your discomfort.

The doorbell rings, and you’re jumping off the couch to answer the door. Ace and Deuce stand outside with bags of snacks in hand. They smile at you, but just a bit of that happiness drops at the sight of him on the couch.

Your best friends haven’t exactly taken well to his newfound presence. The feeling isn’t entirely not mutual - it’s them who should apologize for taking so much of your time. You’re his soulmate after all, not theirs. You usher them inside and they take a seat on the chairs farthest from the couch.

“Sorry, Malleus, I totally forgot I made plans with them to come over earlier. Is it possible for us to watch the movie another time?”

“Of course, my love,” Malleus says, watching intently as your friends wince at the pet name. “I will see you tomorrow for tea with Lilia?”

At your nod, a small smirk rises to his face as he approaches you, dropping a small kiss on your lips as he departs. He notes the embarrassed and disgruntled look your friends faces; as much as he hates to let them see you in any intimate way, he needs them to know their place before he leaves.

One day, Malleus walks in on Deuce holding you. Your arms are awkwardly grasping at his shoulders, and he grips underneath your arms. It’s clear you’ve fallen, and yet Malleus can’t help but let the picture freeze in his mind; it burns into his memory.

Deuce helps you stand properly before the two of you let go of each other. You apologize and thank him awkwardly; the two of you haven’t even noticed him.

Malleus greets you from the doorway and both of you flinch in surprise. You gesture him inside, telling him all about the ‘funny story’ that just happened with Deuce.

He tries to sleep that night, but every time he closes his eyes, Malleus sees you in Deuce’s arms. He knows there’s nothing between you; it was an accident, and you love him after all.

Malleus makes the decision to reveal that he’s your soulmate the next time you two are alone. That happens to be two days later, once again on the Ramshackle couch.

He told you he wanted to discuss something serious, and he feels terrible at how anxious you look from across the table. Malleus wordlessly takes a small needle he’d brought with him and gently pricks his index finger.

You just stare at him, bewildered. Malleus takes your hand, flipping it palm-side up. No red pools on your finger, and no indentation appears either.

It’s his turn to stare in confusion. Every time you’ve been injured, he’s felt it. All your deaths, he’s felt. You’re human, you should not be healing this fast. He tells you as much.

“Is-Is this about soulmates, Malleus?” Your eyes flick up to his, voice wavering a bit. You glance back down to your lap as your hand rises to scratch at your neck. “In my world, we don’t have soulmates. I’m sorry, I should’ve been honest with you before, but I was worried that if you knew I wasn’t your soulmate that you wouldn’t want to be together anymore.”

The words echo in his ears, but he can’t understand them. A world without soulmates…? But how?

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but will you prick your finger. Just a tiny amount will do.”

“Malleus, I-“

“And please, keep an eye on my hand.”

You frown but nod. You prick your hand, wincing at the sensation, eyes flicking down to his own finger, eyes taking in the slight prick that appeared before quickly closing.

Malleus holds his breath as your face blooms into a myriad of emotions: confusion, shock, uncertainty, and finally a smile.

You launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in his very first kiss, and for once, Malleus does not think. He only feels the brush of your soft lips against his own inexperienced ones, following your lead. The moment lasts forever in his mind, but you still pull away too soon.

“Malleus, I’m sorry you’re not my soulmate but I’m so happy you’re mine~”

Your words unsettle him, but before he can think of it too long, you pull him into another kiss.

Things pass normally for a few days; the two of you continue to go on dates and avoid the subject of soulmates.

Malleus fears the worst when the campus is invaded, but rushing over to Ramshackle, his anxiety is temporarily relieved at the sight of you still on campus. You cry to him about Grim and he frets over your injuries - however mild, any threat to you is worth dealing with.

He begs you to stay at Diasomnia since your dorm was destroyed but you refuse. You insist on staying at Ramshackle and even ask that he not stay alongside you, promising that you can handle yourself. Malleus almost does it anyway, but Lilia warns him to give you space in your grief and worry for Grim and your friends

He visits you one last time before he’s forced to stay with Diasomnia as their dorm leader. Malleus closes his eyes as he pulls you into his arms. Now that he’s had you close, being apart always feels like there’s something missing in his life, a lingering anxiety in the back of his mind that keeps scratching at his brain and ignoring the rational side of him.

The two of you stand in silence, wrapped around each other, until you pull away a couple minutes later. Giving his hand one last squeeze, you slip a pink, string bracelet on his arm, asking Malleus to keep it safe until you seem him again before encouraging him to return to help his dorm.

Malleus tries to leave but feels himself pause in the doorway. He looks back at you, sitting on your bed and staring at your phone, and gets a bad feeling.

It’s just paranoia, he rationalizes. You’ve been through so much, he can’t lose you again. But this time, you’re here and away from the action. Nothing will be able to harm you anymore while you’re on the same campus as him.

Malleus still silently casts a couple of protection spells on you before he takes his leave again.

He isn’t able to visit for some time after that, with his dorm leader responsibilities leaving him occupied. He knows your protection spells haven’t activated, so he tries to reassure himself while being away from you. He sends Lilia to check on you, and his guardian returns confirming your health.

Two days later, Malleus sits at a table with Lilia, Sebek, and Silver when he feels it. There is no pain, only a chill that seeps deep into his bones, stopping him mid-sentence. He feels everything at once: fear, despair, and finally, relief. The table remains silent as Malleus is struck with emotion, the others watching him in concern.

“Malleus? It is unbecoming for the future king of Briar Valley to be lost in thought mid-conversation.” Lilia speaks with a light-hearted tone, but Malleus barely hears him.

“Something is wrong with them. I know it,” Malleus whispers, mostly to himself. “No, no. They’re still on campus, that can’t be. You confirmed this yourself, right Lilia?”

Lilia’s pause kindles the fire of Malleus’ worst fear.

“I’m sorry, Malleus. They needed to help their friends, and they knew you would never allow it. But the rest of them are strong, I never thought-“

The confirmation comes three hours later when the rest of the students arrive back from the Island of Woe. Lilia and Malleus rush to the group of students gathered to greet their fellow dorm mates.

You are noticeably absent.

He barely hears their words, their explanation about your sacrifice, and your fall into the underworld.

He sees the shocked faces of the other students (even Kingscholar, lacking his usual smirk), and Lilia is ushering him away before he can even think about the wetness dripping down his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, Malleus sees Leona try to reach them, but they are too fast for him.

The tears come full force once they’ve teleported back to Diasomnia, but he does not sob. Malleus Draconia is not someone who cries. He wipes the wetness off his face, before turning to Lilia.

“We’ll need to wipe their memories as soon as possible. The future king of Briar Valley cannot be remembered to be so…emotional.”

The cold neutrality of Malleus’ tone shakes even Lilia. He continues to stand, staring at the wall in concentration.

Lilia places a hand on the prince’s shoulder: “Malleus, please sit down. You need to rest after what’s happened. The others can wait-“

“No, no, I won’t have to, I’ll go back again and fix things. It’s simple,” Malleus says, mostly to himself.

“Go back? Malleus, please, what are you saying?” Lilia grabs on to both of Malleus’ shoulders, but he does not break free of his conviction. “You don’t mean-“ Malleus’ lack of response confirms his suspicions. “That watch has never been meant to be used, Malleus! It was for world-ending emergencies, for a threat to your kingdom! You have no idea what you’ve done, the cost you’ve had to pay-“

“I’ll see you soon, Lilia, and all will be right again.”

“You don’t understand! If the prefect continues to die after you’ve already intervened, then that is fate! Nothing you do to change time will change the fact that they aren’t meant to survive.”

“…Change time? No, we’ve moved beyond that, Lilia. I’m not going to change time, I’m going to break it.”

“I will help the new prefect,” the student says. “I’ll show them to Ramshackle.”

You are sure that if Crowley’s face were not concealed by his mask it would be frozen in an expression of shock that mirrors the rest of the students.

“Uh, Draconia, that is very…kind of you, but it seems like a lot to trouble yourself with. You are very much needed here for orientation. Perhaps one of our vice housewardens might take care of it?” Crowley looks around but no one steps up to contradict this ‘Draconia.’

“I will be going now. Lilia, please handle the new students.”

Before anyone can further question his decision, Draconia puts a hand on your shoulder and guides you out of the room, leaving behind silence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Draconia? You think you can just- what, change the world to your perfect dream? Change time again and again just because of the prefect? These are people’s lives you’re playing with! We’re not here to be subjected to your stupid whims.”

Malleus turns around to face Leona.

“And what, pray tell, do you plan to do about it?”

“I’m not afraid of you, overgrown lizard. You know it isn’t right, forcing us to play these roles that you’ve designed. And the prefect? Forcing them to be with you? You think-”

“Do I need to remove those petty claws of yours, Kingscholar? In fact, I bet you barely remember why you’re here.”

Leona’s face tells all Malleus he needs to know: “I-I know you’ve done something. My head, it just won’t clear-”

“It’s best if you forget about it and play along. We wouldn’t want you to cause more problems for yourself and your friends. The prefect is easily upset - I wouldn’t want to have to do anything bad to keep the world perfect for my soulmate.”

“Hey Leona,” Ruggie says, jogging up to the group before noticing Malleus. He stays close to Leona as he whispers to him: “You got class in ten. You know Crewel will freak if you miss again.”

Leona glances back at Malleus before reluctantly following Ruggie.

You try to be subtle as you sneak glances at him, but you don’t think you’re very successful. You don’t have a clue why this- well you don’t know very much about him but considering everyone else’s reactions - probably very powerful fae has taken an interest in you. He doesn’t glance back as he walks in front of you. The two of you continue that way until you suddenly run into something hard. You squeak out an apology but Draconia does not turn around or explain why he’s stopped. His question breaks the silence.

“Are you happy, prefect?”

“…Happy? I-I mean, I don’t know. I have these memories but…something feels off. Something is missing or different and I have no idea what. The headmaster claims I was always a student here, I just had some kind of injury but - this person doesn’t feel like me. I know these halls but I was not the one to walk them. I feel- Ah, I’m so sorry! I don’t even know you, why am I going on like this! Please forgive me, uh, sorry again but I haven’t gotten your name.”

“Malleus,” he says, “Malleus Draconia.”

“Sorry Malleus. We can continue to…my dorm. Thank you for volunteering to take me.”

You wait for Malleus to continue walking down the hall, but he only turns around. You are taken aback by the piercing gaze of his eyes: he looks at you as though he is searching for something lost deep in you.

Malleus pulls a needle out of his robes, and you begin to sweat. He doesn’t look at you, only holding the needle to his hand before using it to prick his index finger.

You wince as you feel a prick on your own finger, swiping over the pooling blood with your thumb before looking back up at him in realization.

“You- You’re my soulmate? Malleus, that’s- How did you even know? Is this-”

You’re interrupted by a large form enveloping your body. Malleus’ arms squeeze you so tight it becomes harder to breathe. You struggle instinctively, wanting this stranger to stop smothering you. Regardless of being your soulmate, you barely know him.

He lets you go, pulling away before taking your wrist and slipping a string bracelet onto your arm.

“Everything is as it should be. There’s no need to worry, my soulmate, you are exactly where you should be, and with who you should be with.”

#experience may be enhanced by listening to mitski song of same name #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleyuu #soulmate au #twisted wonderland #twst #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader

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kitausu · 1 month ago

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Fantasy Novels/Series I Think Are CRIMINALLY Underhyped

Just as the title says, this is simply a list of fantasy novels and series that I think deserve all the hype and yet I basically never see people talking them up. These are not in any kind of order because they're all amazing. If you read any of these please hmu because I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Since the city of Bezim was shaken half into the sea by a magical earthquake, the Inquisitors have policed alchemy with brutal efficiency. Nothing too powerful, too complicated, too much like real magic is allowed–and the careful science that’s left is kept too expensive for any but the rich and indolent to tinker with. Siyon Velo, a glorified errand boy scraping together lesson money from a little inter-planar fetch and carry, doesn’t qualify. But when Siyon accidentally commits a public act of impossible magic, he’s catapulted into the limelight. Except the limelight is a bad place to be when the planes themselves start lurching out of alignment, threatening to send the rest of the city into the sea. Now Siyon, a dockside brat who clawed his way up and proved himself on rooftops with saber in hand, might be Bezim’s only hope. Because if they don’t fix the cascading failures of magic in their plane, the Powers and their armies in the other three will do it for them.

A god will return When the earth and sky converge Under the black sun In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial event proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world. Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a man’s mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio, is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain.

The Omehi people have been fighting an unwinnable fight for almost two hundred years. Their society has been built around war and only war. The lucky ones are born gifted. One in every two thousand women has the power to call down dragons. One in every hundred men is able to magically transform himself into a bigger, stronger, faster killing machine. Everyone else is fodder, destined to fight and die in the endless war. Young, gift-less Tau knows all this, but he has a plan of escape. He's going to get himself injured, get out early, and settle down to marriage, children, and land. Only, he doesn't get the chance. Those closest to him are brutally murdered, and his grief swiftly turns to anger. Fixated on revenge, Tau dedicates himself to an unthinkable path. He'll become the greatest swordsman to ever live, a man willing to die a hundred thousand times for the chance to kill the three who betrayed him.

Twenty-seven years ago, a Duke with a grudge led a ruthless coup against the empire of Semilla, killing thousands. He failed. The Duke was executed, a terrifyingly powerful sorcerer was imprisoned, and an unwilling princess disappeared. The empire moved on. Now, when Quill, an apprentice scribe, arrives in the capital city, he believes he's on a simple errand for another pompous noble: fetch ancient artifacts from the magical Imperial Archives. He's always found his apprenticeship to a lawman to be dull work. But these aren't just any artifacts — these are the instruments of revolution, the banners under which the Duke lead his coup. Just as the artifacts are unearthed, the city is shaken by a brutal murder that seems to have been caused by a weapon not seen since the days of rebellion. With Quill being the main witness to the murder, and no one in power believing his story, he must join the Archivists — a young mage, a seasoned archivist, and a disillusioned detective — to solve the truth of the attack. And what they uncover will be the key to saving the empire – or destroying it again.

#booklr #bookblr #fantasy books #lgbtq books #book recs #kit reads books #im reading relics of ruin rn #and I am SCREAMING #i love them i love them i loooooove them #davinia evans #rebecca roanhorse #evan winter #erin m evans

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remembrancer-of-heresy · 4 months ago

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The Eternal Night (Part 2)

Summary: The first captain and the serf become more and more attached to each other every day in a dark and obsessive way.

Jago Sevatarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, power imbalance, violence, torture, predator/prey

Word count: 2169

Song: She Wants Revenge - I Don't Want To Fall In Love

I know that you're the right girl But do you think that I am the right man?

You really hoped that by joining Sevatar’s service you would quickly learn everything. After all, all your life you have been the servant of an aristocrat, not a space marine. Especially the Night Lord.

But you're lucky. Your only duties were mopping the floors and taking care of the bedding and workout clothes. It was pointless to clean the armor of blood and human skin. The more terrible and intimidating they looked, than better.

It seemed that the First Captain did not need a personal serf. He got along just fine without it. But you weren’t going to complain about such a gift of fate. There are even fewer responsibilities than when your mistress was alive.

You bend over to the floor, wiping away the dirty stains with a rag. A relieved sigh escapes your lips on its own. The pain, which lasted several weeks, finally went away.

Sevatar ordered that you get a tattoo right on your back, near your left shoulder. The ink was mixed with the blood of the first captain. This way mortals will understand that they cannot touch you. And other Space Marines will feel where you belong. It was very painful. You didn’t scream, but the tears flowed naturally as the sign of the Night Lords appeared on your skin.

When you arrived at Sevatar’s quarters, he only chuckled with satisfaction when he looked at the final result. And you were almost certainly sure that he liked your eyes, red from tears. That night, lying in the corner on your mattress, you couldn’t sleep. It was also painful to perform simple duties. But you were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Where were you born?” - a male voice comes from behind you while you are scrubbing the floor. You didn't need to look to know that Sevatar was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. As always.

“On Terra. On the lower levels.” - you try not to remember the corpse of your mistress, plunging into memories. - “I was very lucky. One of the aristocrats decided to organize charity and sent many poor children to a special school. After that, we all had to go to serve the rich.”

You sigh in guilt.

“I became his granddaughter’s maid.”

There is silence in the room and you think that the first captain has become uninterested in this conversation. But he only grunts in response.

“There wasn't much of a choice, right? Either poverty or service to others.” - the man speaks in a relaxed voice. You only blush because the Astartes compared your destinies. He didn't look mocking. - “Did you even like it?”

"Yes." - you remember how the sunlight fell on the stained glass windows. And you little one looked at this spectacle with admiration. Until the teacher scolded you for the amusement of the other girls. A moment of innocence. - “I loved performing in the choir.”

You return to your duties, wiping away the dried dirt, trying not to look behind you. Sevatar was silent, but you knew that he was thinking about his life, over your words. Perhaps if you were different people and in another place, he would admit that you have a beautiful voice. You couldn’t say how, but you knew for sure that this thought flashed through his head.

You were mostly silent. But in rare moments, Sevatar began to talk. Mostly when he was relaxing in bed. You asked each other about life, giving in to a completely spontaneous desire to get into each other’s soul. It was strange and possibly wrong. But you both couldn't resist.

“When did you kill the first person?” - you didn’t know why you decided to ask your master about this. The question arose naturally. Sevatar remained silent and you dared to continue. - “They recruit young boys into the Astartes. Did you kill a man when you joined the Legion?”

The man looks at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his back. Finally he speaks.

“No, little one. I killed a boy of my age when I was nine.” - the man looks at your discouraged face and laughs an unpleasant laugh. Only dead people laugh like that. - “You won’t survive on Nostramo any other way. I had to defend myself as best I could. Capture and take what I want. Even eat.”

Sevatar looks at you carefully. Either joy or pain splashes in his eyes.

“If you ever have to eat human flesh, little mouse. Don’t try the eyes, you won’t like it.” - the first captain closes his eyes and turns to the wall, as soon as you nod. Good advice. You will remember it. The main thing is that it is not useful in life.

You wring out the rag, pleased with the result. The floors almost shone with cleanliness. Although it was difficult to notice given how little light there was in the Space Marine's quarters. Immediately thinking of your savior, you can’t help but glance at him briefly.

He was still lying on the bed. Sevatar forbade you to do anything in his absence. Quite the opposite. It was when the man should have gone to bed or simply rested that you should have started cleaning the primarch's room.

The more you moved, while trying not to make noise, the better. The top was supposed to consist of just a tank top. So that your tattoo is always visible. Hair was strictly forbidden to be tied.

Serving Sevatar was easy, but his requests were awkward.

The Space Marine suddenly awakens and you flinch at the sight. The man sits down on the bed, rubbing his eyes. Sevatar looks around the room, noting with obvious displeasure that you performed your duties extremely well.

It's even kind of offensive.

“Already cleaned up. Apparently you will have to go around the second circle.” - Sevatar grins when he sees your disappointed face. - “Looks like I spoiled you, huh. Next time you’ll help with sewing.”

If the Night Lords sew, it is only cloaks made of human skin. You immediately go back to work. Again you pass the rag over the now clean floor.

Only this time the man was in no hurry to fall asleep again. Instead, he looked at you. For a long time. Appreciatively. Even too much.

“I changed my mind.” - the man snaps his neck. - “Come here.”

Where is here, you wanted to ask a stupid question. But could anyone blame you? No matter how kind the first captain was to you, he still caused fear. Not to mention, you were completely alone. No one would help you anyway. And yet the absence of even the slightest chance made you sad.

The man beckoned you with his finger and you obediently approached him. Sevatar, without saying anything, took your hands in his. He examined the palms and touched the delicate fingertips. You pursed your lips in embarrassment. A moment later, black eyes peered intently into your face. You thought you would drown in this darkness, until strong hands suddenly turn you around.

Sevatar lays your back on his lap and you freeze. You can’t help but tremble, breathing heavily through your nose. The man had scared you before, but now his behavior was perplexing. Not to mention the size difference. You didn't even reach the floor.

Rough fingers touched your tattoo, slowly rubbing the flesh. Touching the lines of the skull and wings of the gargoyle. Squeezing a little, leaving bruises on the body. You swallow as Sevatar takes in the scent of your hair. You could even hear the beating of his two hearts, he held you so close to him. The man seemed lost in his thoughts.

***

“P-please, I didn’t d-do anything. I would never betray the Imperium. H-have mercy. Don't torture mee."

Sevatar, unlike some brothers, did not catch unfortunate serfs or captives to pull off his skin out of boredom. He did it just like now. By order of the primarch or as necessary. But this does not mean that it was not unpleasant for him to do it. Just boring.

The brothers standing next to first captain loudly argued about who would torture the traitor next after the first captain. But as soon as the man looked at them angrily, they immediately fell silent. Now they decided to settle the dispute by playing rock-paper-scissors. Although it makes no difference who will be next. They're here for a long time.

“This is punishment for betrayal.” - the space marine smiles unpleasantly at the crying girl before gently running his knife across her stomach. The victim screams in pain. There is a characteristic smell of urination in the room. - “No more than that.”

Well, of course he's exaggerating here. No matter how Konrad Curze tried to hide behind nobility and justice, he liked it. Fear and horror, complete submission, screams and pain. Sevatar would be a hypocrite if he said that he is not the same.

The annoying scribe lost all her arrogance and turned into a carcass. It’s good that she decided to go against the primarch. She was annoying. And how could such a brat have such a good maid like you?

The first captain sighs, cutting off a strip of skin, just remembrering your vision. You were good. Quiet. And funny. Your bump on your forehead amused him for a long time. But most of all, you calmed him down. There was something unusual about you. And familiar.

How did you move. Sneaked among the shadows, flying from one place to another. Either to your nest or ran to friends. You played with food, although like any scavenger, you should to eat rats. How quietly you spoke to the other serfs, and your trembling changed the tone of your voice. How quickly you moved, causing your hair to make pleasant noise. Reminiscent of the rustle of feathers. Even your eyes were big and attentive.

But the birds are free. And you are not.

The victim chokes on tears and snot, and Sevatar only smiles at this picture. You're especially vulnerable right now, right? Without a mistress, alone, in a terrible eerie Legion, which will gladly offend someone as small as you. You probably need a protector.

The first captain grimaces from strange thoughts. The man moves away from the prisoner, waving his hand. Let these impatient bastards replace him.

No, he didn't need personal servants. He didn't need them. And yet, for some irrational reason, he was considering taking you in with him. Although he already had to look after four mortals. It was also not enough to add you to this list.

On the other hand, you won't be a hindrance. And lately his... Gift has become more acutely felt. The crows are far away, but you are close. Not a bad replacement. So why doesn’t Sevatar make an exception and take you to his place? You will help him relax, and he will protect you from his Legion. At least once in his life he will do a good deed.

The first captain just chuckles at this while the sound of tearing skin is heard from behind. The room is filled with a metallic smell and the inhuman scream of a half-dead woman. But Sevatar hears only the rustle of wet black feathers.

The man breaks away from your hair, inhaling its scent. He grins at the back of your head as he continues to stroke the tattoo.

He didn't have to offer it or take it by force. You came to him yourself. Begged him to save you. At first, Sevatar even thought that you were a crazy suicide. But you were an ordinary girl with oddities. And it's not to say that he didn't like it.

You turn to face him, making your hair slide across your skin. Sevatar can't help but look at your face. Parted lips, flared nostrils, big eyes. Yes, your skin looked good on your skull. There's no need to rip it off.

And the smell. He felt your fear. Uncertainty. Fright. But at the same time there is a bit of hope. Trust. You wanted to believe him. Your kindness was not an act. Or trying to survive. You're strange.

His head is empty. No bad thoughts about the Crusade or the Legion. The dull pain no longer numbs the brain. It was as if he was back in the night city. Again felt the touch of feathers. After ascension to the Astartes, he was finally able to sleep properly.

His tongue automatically begins to move over your tattoo. You squeak sweetly in fear before falling silent. You try to behave as still as a mousekin in the clutches of a scavenger. Only the predator will not let go of its prey even if it is already dead.

The hair rustles pleasantly near the man's nose. Rare uncontrolled sobs only provoke more. And the intermittent breathing and pounding of the heart echoes loudly in the ears like a croak. The eyes close on their own.

#primarch x reader #primarch x oc #warhammer 40k x reader #night lord x reader #jago sevatarion x reader #sevatar x reader #tw: yandere #tw: violence #tw: torture

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beegomess · 3 months ago

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T.N. || I know I'll love you

Summary: Time has built a painful distance between you and Theodore, but the love between the two of you seems to attract you to each other like a magnet.

Warning: Just very romantic and a little sad.

Requests are open!

His relationship with Theodore always seemed to be the epitome of the perfect romance in the eyes of everyone around. Since childhood, your souls seemed to be intertwined, and the magic that emanated from you was palpable. Your love flourished in adolescence with the promise of a future together, fueled by the acceptance of your families and the security of a shared destiny.

But then, as if the universe had turned against the beauty of its history, Voldemort's ascension plunged Hogwarts into an inescapable darkness. The presence of the Dark Lord haunted every corner of the castle, and the shadow of his influence extended to the hearts of the children of his followers. Theodore was no exception. In charge of fulfilling Voldemort's own orders, he was assigned to follow Draco Malfoy as a bodyguard, a silent watchman of his duties.

The distance between you began to expand like a painful and irreparable fissure. Visits to your room, once so frequent, have become rare and impersonal. The stealthy exits that were once dedicated to secret encounters and suits were now only brief appearances before he disappeared again to fulfill his dark obligations. Theodore seemed to change before his eyes, his brightness, once so vibrant, slowly fading out, leaving a disconcerting emptiness in the place of love that once warmed him.

You tried everything to recover the Theodore you knew and loved, but your efforts were in vain. The moment of greatest desolation came when the black mark stamped on his forearm, a cruel symbol of his loyalty to the Dark Lord. The pain of this moment was accentuated by the distance that Theodore created between you, moving away until your encounters became non-existent and your looks in the corridors stop. You, who were once inseparable, now saw yourself as strangers in a scenario that once seemed to be your refuge.

The war does not ask for permission from lovers or families; it simply invades and wreaks havoc. For you, the war brought a painful and abrupt separation. Your parents, fearing for your safety and the emotional impact that the war was causing, decided to send you away, a desperate escape to safeguard what was left of your innocence.

Since that day, your mind and heart have never left Hogwarts. The memory of Theodore and the anguish for the loss of his old life kept his chest tight and his spirit in constant restlessness. Time has passed, and even though the news that Theodore was well was a small consolation, it was still a light in the darkness, a thread of hope that you used to try, despite all the difficulties, to move on.

With the fall of Voldemort, your family decided it was time for you to get married, and so did a few months after the devastation. Alistair Blackwood was the chosen one, a young man a few years older, who his parents considered a good match for you. He seemed to be a viable option, but your marriage to him was marked by a kind of cold cordiality, an emotional distance that you struggled to fill, but never really managed to overcome.

Alistair, despite his good intentions, could not completely hide the pain of knowing that his heart still belonged to Theodore. He realized this at a particularly painful moment: one day, when he found his diary abandoned on a table in the library of his vast mansion, he read his old words, the descriptions of the love you felt for Theodore. Every page, every word, hit him like a sharp blade, revealing a wound that he did not know existed, but that now hurt deeply. Sadness and resignation filled his eyes when he realized that, despite his attempt to build a new future, the past still maintained a cruel squeeze on his heart.

For Theodore, the world became a stage of pain and desolation after the war. Every time his eyes crossed the corridors of Hogwarts, it was a painful reminder of the absence that his presence had become. The act of pretending not to see you, of maintaining a facade of indifference while feeling a devastating loss inside, slowly corroded him. That daily act of self-sufficiency was like a constant torment, a constant reminder of what had been torn from him.

When the war reached its climax, and chaos ravaged the castle, Theodore could not avoid the emptiness that swet on him after his departure. The absence of his presence by his side, the absence of love that once illuminated his days, made him feel lost, as if he were sailing aimlessly in a sea of uncertainty and despair. Every day without you was a silent fight, a battle against the sadness that seemed to spread throughout every aspect of your life.

The news of his marriage to Alistair Blackwood was an even more devastating blow. The impact of this revelation was so strong that he could hardly deal with the reality that the future he had dreamed of next to him had been completely undone. The pain was not only emotional, but almost physical, a weight that crushed him from the inside as he struggled to maintain his composure and rebuild what was left of his family name. Theodore tried to stand firm, but the truth was that, every day, the feeling of defeat and loss seemed to deepen.

Secretly, Theodore dedicated himself to the search for you. He searched the newspapers, anxiously observing any mention of the last name Blackwood, hoping to find some clue, some indication of where you could be. Every time you read a news story, your heart beat faster, a silent hope lit up only to be crushed by the reality that you were not there. The pages of the newspapers became a reflection of his endless search, and every time he did not find his name, the discouragement deepened. Theodore felt like he was running after a ghost, desperately trying to fill the void you had left in your life.

However, his hopes grew with the arrival of a certain invitation.

Draco and Astória's wedding was a stunning event, a glimpse of the past amid the elegance of the present. The hall was magnificently decorated with white and golden flowers, and the orchestra played classic melodies that enveloped the environment with an aura of nostalgia and sophistication. The conversations were soft, and the joy of the reunion with old friends filled the air.

You felt warmly welcomed by friends you haven't seen in a long time. Pansy and Blaise were the first to approach, their expressions revealing a mixture of longing and happiness. Pansy wrapped you in an affectionate hug, while Blaise greeted you with a genuine smile. The return to that known world, even if only for one night, was a balm for your soul.

The most anticipated moment of the night, however, was about to happen without you noticing. Theodore, with a presence that seemed to fill the space around him, arrived at the party. Your gaze was immediately attracted to you, and although you did not notice your observation, Theodore saw it in a way that no one else could understand.

For Theodore, the sight of you, radiant in an elegant dress, was like a direct blow to the heart. Time seemed to stop as he watched her, and the world around him faded. His expression carried a mixture of surprise and a deep longing, a reflection of the emotions he had kept so carefully since the last time they met. The pain of separation, the weight of memories and the love he never managed to erase were now evident in his eyes.

Alistair, your husband, was attentive to the dynamics of the party and noticed the intensity with which Theodore watched you. Alistair's reaction was subtle, but noticeable. He felt a wave of restlessness when he saw Theodore's fixed gaze and the way he seemed to absorb every detail of his. It was a look that conveyed more than words could express, a connection that seemed to challenge time and distance.

As the party continued with his charming music and waltz dance, Theodore kept his gaze on you, every gesture and smile of him capturing your attention in an almost hypnotic way. In his eyes, there was a melancholic sadness, a reflection of the pain he carried for being separated from you and the desire for a connection that had never completely disappeared. He watched you interact with your friends, every laugh and gesture he shared with them evoking memories of a simpler and happier time.

Alistair noticed the growing tension and, although he tried to maintain his composure, he could not ignore the silent rivalry that seemed to hover in the air. Theodore's presence was a constant reminder of the complexity of his own feelings and the shadow that the past still cast on his present. The party, with all its joy and celebration, contrasted with the internal whirlwind that Theodore and Alistair faced, a silent battle of emotions and unresolved memories.

The wedding was in full swing, and the hall continued to be filled with the soft melody of the orchestra and the lively whispers of the guests. The brightness of the lights reflected in the eyes of those present, but nothing seemed to overshadow the subtle tension that unfolded in the air between you, Theodore and Alistair.

At one point, Alistair, with a carefully calculated gesture, approached you, with the clear intention of affirming your presence and that of your marriage. His gaze was firm and safe, and he took the initiative to position himself next to you, wrapping you in a friendly hug and talking excitedly about the details of the party. Alistair's intention was evident: he wanted to make it clear to Theodore, without words, that his place next to him was occupied.

And it worked. Theodore, who was at a reasonable distance, felt the change in the environment. When encountering his gaze occasionally with Alistair's, the sad glow in his eyes became a little colder, almost as if an invisible barrier had erected between him and the woman who still occupied such a deep place in his heart. The few moments when their eyes crossed were loaded with a palpable tension, a reflection of the pain and loss that they both carried, although in different ways.

You, oblivious to the silent battle that unfolded, continued to get involved in the conversations and hugs of reunion. The environment was full of joy and celebration, and you did the best you could to get involved in the festivity. However, the presence of Theodore and the subtlety of Alistair's behavior added a complex layer to his experience of the night, a constant reminder that, even in the midst of the celebration, the past and his unresolved emotions were always present.

As the party progressed, the feeling of a silent rivalry grew, and the moments when his eyes crossed with Theodore were loaded with a melancholy that you could not fully understand. Alistair, on the other hand, was attentive to every nuance of the situation, trying to balance the need to show his position with the silent understanding that Theodore's presence was a painful reminder for everyone involved.

The salon was charming. Shimmering lights were reflected in the crystals of the chandeliers, and the dance floor was full of elegantly dressed guests, sliding gracefully to the sound of the waltz. Among the groups of friends and acquaintances, you and Pansy met in a corner, watching the scene with a mixture of nostalgia and pleasure.

Alistair, realizing the need for a break, walked away momentarily, leaving you alone with Pansy. The lively murmur of the party filled the environment, but his gaze met that of Theodore, who approached with a silent determination and a familiar glow. Pansy, noticing the increasing tension, decided to withdraw with a quick "I'm going to get something to drink", leaving you and Theodore alone.

- Y/N! - Theodore's voice resonated with the same melody you had kept in your memory, making your heart accelerate. His feelings clashed in a whirlwind of emotions.

- Hi, Theo. - You tried to smile, but the trembling in your voice denounced your nervousness. - How are you?

- I'm fine. - Theodore paused, his eyes fixed on you with a depth that seemed to go through the years of separation. - You look beautiful, as always.

- Thank you. - Your voice came out softly, and you looked away for a moment, drowned in feelings. - And you? What have you been doing? - The question was an effort to probe your life, and perhaps your most recent feelings.

- Oh, well, I've been dedicating myself to my family's business since... since it all happened. - Theodore smiled slightly, a smile that seemed to carry the pain of a shared past.

- I understand. And have you liked it? I remember you used to say you would never do that. - You smiled gently, and the warmth of your smile warmed Theodore's chest, like a comforting memory of times gone by.

- Yes, of course. - Theodore laughed slightly. - At that time, I didn't understand the importance of some things. So, disregard some of the things I said. - Your sentence carried an emotional weight that you both understood, creating a subtle tension between you.

The conversation flowed, initially recalling the good moments of the school, bringing a brief relief to the tension. But Theodore seemed determined to reopen old wounds.

- Y/N, I know I shouldn't bring this up, but I feel like I need to apologize for the way I handled things a few years ago. I was just a boy and... - He looked away, and you interrupted him gently.

- Theodore, don't apologize. Everything is fine. I understand... - Your eyes met again, offering a comforting smile. But before the conversation could continue, Alistair reappeared by his side.

Alistair approached, putting an arm around his waist in a protective way, while his gaze fixed on Theodore. Theodore's frustration was visible, a reflection of the tension that now permeated the environment.

- Oh, Theodore, this is Alistair, my husband. Sorry we didn't introduce ourselves before. - His smile was kind, but the tension between the two men was palpable.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, Theodore. - Alistair's voice was firm and controlled, as he reached out for a squeeze. Theodore responded with a polite gesture, but the coldness in his eyes could not be disguised.

- Would you like to dance, dear? - Alistair turned to you, and you nodded with a smile.

- Of course. - You answered, but before you walked away, you said: - It was great to see you again, Theo. - The nickname, combined with the sparkle in your eyes, brought a sincere smile to Theodore's face. The flame of hope in his eyes lit up, even as he watched you move away, sliding among the dancing guests, like a living memory of a love that never went out.

After that night at the wedding of Draco and Astória, the flame of passion between you and Theodore seemed more alive than ever. It was as if the brief encounter full of emotions had rekindled a feeling that, despite the years away, never completely extinguished. Theodore became increasingly determined to get closer to school friends, especially because he knew that, by attending these meetings, he would have the chance to see her again.

The cycle of dinners and meetings between long-time friends has become a new routine for Theodore. Each social event offered an opportunity for him to be close to you, to observe from afar, and to feel, even in small doses, the presence he had missed for so long. He was not the only one to seek reconnection; you also attended these events with a renewed hope, a silent desire to rediscover the one who has always occupied a special place in your heart. The atmosphere of the dinners was always vibrant, a mixture of laughter and conversations that evoked memories of the past. His presence at these events became a reflection of his desire to restore something that was lost.

With each new encounter, his heart beat in the expectation of seeing Theodore, and every time he appeared, it was as if time had stopped. There was an intensity in the air, an almost palpable electricity, which was only amplified by the way he looked at you, with a mixture of hope and repressed desire. The feeling that something significant was about to happen hovered over these encounters, an invisible thread connecting the past to the present.

Alistair, her husband, always accompanied him at these dinners. He made a point of reaffirming his presence by his side, something that Theodore observed with a mixture of resignation and hope. Alistair seemed to understand the value of these encounters and, although it was a constant support, his role also carried a certain degree of unspoken tension. Lately, Alistair was absent from some of these dinners due to his work trips, which Theodore secretly thanked. These moments of her husband's absence offered Theodore an opportunity to get a little closer, to let his words and looks insinuate what could not be said directly.

Each absence of Alistair at a dinner seemed to open a small gap for Theodore, allowing him to be closer to you, to talk more, to feel the warmth of his presence for a little longer. Although respect for your situation and the presence of your husband was always present, the underlying tension between you and Theodore continued to grow, fueling a silent hope that, perhaps one day, circumstances would change.

That cold night, while the wind whispered softly and the stars shone with a dim light, you found yourself alone on Pansy's balcony, contemplating the horizon that merged with the night sky. The distant murmur of the party inside the house was muffled by the breeze, creating a serene atmosphere that contrasted with the whirlwind of feelings in his chest.

That's when you looked at the door and saw Theodore's silhouette protruding at the entrance. His vision made his heart accelerate instantly, as if every memory, every long-kept feeling, had been revived by his simple presence. He advanced with a soft smile, and you were slightly frightened by your unexpected arrival.

- I didn't think I would meet you here - you said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice when you saw it appear on the balcony.

Theodore smiled, a glow of longing and affection illuminating his eyes, which seemed to reflect the mystery and melancholy of the night. He positioned himself by your side, and his closeness immediately brought a sense of intimacy that you haven't felt in a long time.

- I could say the same about you - he replied, his voice loaded with a playful tone that barely disguised the depth of the feelings he struggled to contain. - You disappeared so quickly from the party that I had to come after you.

His laughter was a soft echo in the stillness of the night, a sound that seemed suspended in the air, loaded with repressed emotions. Theodore's presence was causing a whirlwind of feelings within you, and he leaned slightly, his eyes fixed on yours, while his smile softened in a familiar warmth.

- I've always loved hearing your laugh... - Theodore murmured, the sincerity in his voice so palpable that it almost looked like a caress. You were silent, absorbing the intensity of your words, until he continued in an almost whispering tone. - I miss you, more than you can imagine.

Your heart accelerated with the unexpected confession, and you struggled to maintain your composure. The conversation quickly turned into a moment charged with an intensity that seemed to crush the space between you.

- Theodore... - you started, your hesitant voice, but with a glow of hope and vulnerability.

He took a step closer, his hand touching his in a delicate way, a gesture that sent a chill all over his body. His touch seemed to connect all the wires of a shared past, relighting a flame that you thought had been extinguished.

- I know time has passed, and the way I left you was horrible. - Theodore interrupted, his voice low and loaded with intensity. - But I never... I've never forgotten about you, Y/N.

His confession hovered in the air as a long-kept secret, the truth finally revealed. Your heart was beating out of step, and Theodore's words reverberated deep inside you. The cold and silent night seemed to have turned into a stage for a new and painful truth, and the feeling of being on the verge of something significant became almost palpable.

- You don't know how much I've looked for you since it all ended, and seeing that you moved on was devastating. - Theodore, who once seemed insecure, now gathered all the strength he had to open up to you. - But then, at the wedding, when I saw you again, everything was clear to me...

- Theodore, no... - you tried to interrupt with a low voice, the emotion mixing with the confusion.

- That night, I saw in your eyes something I couldn't ignore. I know you still feel the same, Y/N, I know you do. - Theodore insisted, his voice almost begging for a confirmation.

You took a step back, your gaze deviating as conflicting feelings disrupted your interior. The desire to be embraced by him fought against the reality of his current situation. What would come next was uncertain, but at that moment, what mattered was the sincerity of feelings and the intensity of a love that seemed to have resisted time and adversity.

- Theodore, I... - You hesitated, your words mixing with the emotional whirlwind inside you. - It's so complicated, and I don't know if I'm ready to face it now.

He took a step closer, his expression becoming even more intense. His eyes, fixed on yours, seemed to beg for an answer he knew was the truth, even if you hesitated.

- I understand it's difficult, but... - Theodore whispered, his voice loaded with urgency. - I can't stay here and pretend I don't feel it. Every moment I pass away from you, I feel like I'm losing a part of myself.

Your chest hurt with the sincerity of your words, and you struggled to organize your thoughts. The desire to be close to him, to relive the connection you shared, was so strong that it seemed almost irresistible. You looked at him, his visible vulnerability.

- Theodore, I feel it too... - You started, your words getting entangled with emotion. - But there are so many things at stake...

- I know - he interrupted gently, his hand wrapping yours with a delicacy that seemed to disarm all your defenses. - But, please, just allow me to be close to you, even if it's only for now. I don't want to miss this chance.

You felt his warm presence, the gentle touch of his hand, and his voice became a murmur just for the two of you. The world seemed to disappear around as the two got even closer, the space between you decreasing every second.

- Theodore... - You murmured, your voice failing, almost inaudible.

He tilted his head, his forehead almost touching his, and his eyes closed for a moment. He was so close, and you could feel his breathing mixing with yours. Time seemed to drag on, the world reducing itself to this moment of intensity.

- There is nothing more I want than to be here with you now - he whispered, his voice loaded with a deep devotion.

You closed your eyes, and Theodore's proximity made your heart accelerate even more. He hesitated for a moment, seeking permission in his gaze before slowly leaning forward. His lips found yours in a soft and tender kiss, as if he were rediscovering something that should never have been lost.

The kiss was a mixture of longing and desire, a reassessment of everything you had experienced. The repressed emotions, the pain, the love - everything merged in that contact, transforming the cold night into something warm and comforting. Every touch, every shared breath, was a reminder that, despite the years and separations, the love between you still remained intense and unchanged.

After the kiss, you slowly walked away, your hearts still racing, and a soft and sincere smile appeared on the lips of both of you. The expression on their faces was a reflection of relief and happiness, as if the world around it had bowed to allow this special moment.

Theodore looked at you with an intensity that seemed to penetrate your soul. His eyes shone with a combination of love and vulnerability, and he seemed more present than ever. He bowed a little more, his face still close to yours, and his voice, now an almost reverent whisper, filled the silence of the night.

- I love you. - Theodore murmured, his words loaded with a deep and disarming sincerity.

Your chest was filled with a mixture of joy and emotion when you heard these words, and you felt a wave of heat and comfort knowing that your feelings were equally intense and true. The confession hovered in the air between you, a testimony of love that still burned strong despite the years and separations.

Without giving time for any other words to be said, Theodore again connected his lips to his own, this time with a deeper and more urgent passion. The kiss was more intense, more full of meaning, as if it were trying to express all the love and longing accumulated during the years away. Every touch of your lips seemed like a silent promise that, despite everything, you were still destined to be together.

The intensity of the kiss seemed to transform the time and space around, making everything clearer and simpler. The outside world disappeared, and the only thing that mattered was the connection between the two of you, renewed and stronger than ever.

_______________________________

masterlist here

A/N: Guys, I apologize for the delays in the publication and the errors during the text. I want to remind you that English is not my original language, so there will probably be mistakes☹️

xoxo, bee🫶🏼🫶🏼

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lup1nn · 1 year ago

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fluff between miguel and hispanic wife!reader after a long day of working

warnings: a lot of fluff, miguel being extremely clingy, soft, and affectionate. miguel and reader using nicknames in spanish translations: amor= love linda= beautiful no se que haria sin ti= i don't know what i'd do without you

pairing: miguel x reader

summary: comfort cuddles after a rough day at HQ

The sun had long dipped below the New York skyline, leaving a trail of dusky twilight in its wake as Miguel Ohara finally returned home after a grueling day at the Spider-Man headquarters. His suit was crumpled, and his nerves were frayed from dealing with the likes of Miles, Gwen, and Pavitir, who always seemed to have a knack for recklessness that grated on his irritable and obsessive personality.

Miguel trudged through the front door, a sigh escaping his lips as he removed his suit jacket and tie, tossing them carelessly onto a nearby chair. All he wanted was a moment of respite from the chaos of the multiverse. As he made his way into the cozy living room, he was greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly made arepas and a steaming cup of café con leche. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a rare sight for someone as stern as Miguel.

"[Reader]," he said in a low, gravelly voice as he approached the dining table, where you sat, waiting with a warm blanket draped over your lap and a pair of pajamas neatly folded beside his meal. "You have no idea how much I needed this."

You returned his smile, a knowing glint in your eyes as you patted the empty seat across from you. "Sit down, amor. Tell me about your day."

Miguel obediently settled into the chair, savoring the scent of the comfort food. He took a sip of the rich coffee before launching into a tirade about his day, complaining about the audacious stunts of the other Spider-People. He spoke coolly about their recklessness and how it threatened the fragile balance of the Web of Life and Destiny. With each sentence, you gently stroked his hair and listened with the patience only you could offer.

As the evening wore on, Miguel's irritable facade began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable man beneath. He spoke of the immense pressure he felt as the protector of the Web, and how he was constantly striving for perfection, desperately trying to maintain order and stability in the multiverse. But in your presence, he found solace and a refuge from the storm that raged within him.

After the meal, Miguel led you to their spacious king-size bed, where you both snuggled under the warm blanket. As he held you close, he whispered, "You're my anchor in this chaotic world, linda. No sé que haría sin tí".

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and murmured soothing words, reminding him that even the most unyielding structures needed moments of softness. As Miguel closed his eyes, finally finding peace in your arms, he knew that no matter how old, irritable, or obsessed he became, your love was the constant he could rely on, a sanctuary in a multiverse of uncertainty.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting, i hope you like it. love ya <3 I took a bit of liberty and made the reader Colombian

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara

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sunsblaze · 2 months ago

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Cont. || @gilded-sunrays

The flow of time would stop for no one, not for the virtuous, not for kings, nor those touched my the divine, time was a cruel mistress, something many tried to cling to only to rear back with blistering palms as it is ripped violently from tender hands.

A truth they had both come to learn through similar tales of not only love and loss, but betrayal. They had both been born with this curse- blessing and yet with such a gift they had still been unable to protect what truly mattered to them, they had been too late every single time. The contents of the future evaded her. Evaded them.

Her own days had been spent much the same, each day passing was filled an ebbing restlessness as her life began to stall leaving little for her to do in these day of involuntary retirement, though it wasn’t always like this, there had been a time where her days had been filled with warmth, shrouded in domestic bliss as she stood hand in hand with her husband.

They had been expecting, she spent their final days together nesting, preparing for the birth of their first child- a daughter, though as the moons leading up to labor came to pass everything she held dear would be ripped from her grasp. As her husband prepared for the morning journey he had to make to fetch a midwife, something made its move, striking the small family down, all she remembered was waking the next day, her hand clutching tightly onto her husband’s and intense pains wracking through her body.

Alone, she would give birth to a child that was destined to not breathe a single breath.

The coming days were a blur, she would not move from her husband’s side, instead she would lay there, the infant laying against her chest until a man she would soon know as Rengoku came to her, he had been in search of the creature that had snuffed her the lives of her family, he would help her back to her feet, help her put her loved ones to rest. Shortly after she made a decision, a vow to never have another suffer as she had, she would become a slayer and fight the shadows away with the burning determination of the sun itself.

For a handful of years she had kept busy, pushing forward as she fought tirelessly, following a path she had never truly wished to step foot on, but it seemed fate had other plans, this- being a demon slayer, it had been her destiny, she had found her purpose in that time and yet she seemed to lose it all the same.

Her own failure to cut down the demon lord, her allowing a demon to escape, and the betrayal of her own twin, it ended her time as a pillar and almost costed her life, many believed she should have atoned by committing sepukku, though both the young master and the flame pillar would not allow it, she would be given the mercy of exile- though was losing everything yet again really a mercy?

Nonetheless, she would take each day one at a time, hunting demons that lurked nearby, visiting the few loved ones she had left as her determination, her passions flickered and faded from a blazing inferno to a flickering candlelight. She often found herself doing the bare minimum for her survival, she would eat, drink, bathe, and tend to the repairs of her home.

That was until things would change around her…literally.

The sound of the teapot shattering was deafening in the still night and it was only accentuated by the seconds of silence that followed, the sounds of the woman’s gentle breaths filling the space between them. Though it was a rare occurrence, she was a bit shaken, she had almost killed this man, if she had been just seconds slower then his head would been sent rolling across the wooden boards beneath them.

While she awaited his answer she would just stare down at the man, her eyes the same shade of maroon as his, both like deep glasses of red wine- a finely aged vintage. For a second she had a thought that he might be a demon or that this was some kind of mirage, but it would only take her one glance to tell that not only was this real, it that he was just as human as she. Not only that, but he was her mirror image other than his more masculine features, she felt as if she were staring into a pool and on the other side laid a world so similar, yet different.

It made one wonder just how different things were on the other side.

As the man’s lips parted to speak a name- one that was all too familiar the woman would blink- she wasn’t exactly sure what to think at the moment, other than the fact that this man was her? Or was she him? It was all a bit complicated.

“…As am I.”

Her response was soft, her voice just as hushed as his own, as if this exact moment was so delicate that one word spoked too loud would shatter the world around them into a million pieces. She would make the first move, her hand. Bracing against his chest as she pushed herself to her feet before stepping to the side, a slender, yet calloused hand outstretched to him.

“I apologize for the disturbance, please, allow me to take care of the mess I have caused.”

#blessed by the sun || yoriichi #partner || gilded-sunrays

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valyrfia · 8 months ago

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while we’re talking about fanfic… your soulmate au is a lestappen fic of all time!!!!!

ik you mentioned maybe a pt 2 and i will wait as longggg as necessary to read it if you’re still doing it or planning on it!! not trying to pressure you or bully you into it though <3

Anon you made my day thank you so much <3. I think the reason why I haven't yet committed to pt. 2 is because I'm really unsatisfied with pt. 1. I wish I had taken more time to flesh it out properly rather than just hitting publish quick in the name of trying to get it out in a writing challenge I ended up bailing on anyway. I might take it down, rewrite it completely including within it the scenes and plans I have for pt. 2, then reupload it as a complete body of work.

If you're interested in Lestappen soulmates stuff though, I'm currently in the early stages of another Lestappen Soulmate fic (where soulmates are said in the same tone as Eldritch Horror). Go check out my writing/fic orientated blog @panbaric if you want to learn more!

#it is third person POV and lestappen basically being destined and a cosmic horror beyond comprehension #can't wait #my fic #for rarely man escapes his destiny

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queereads-bracket · 3 days ago

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Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 1

Book summaries below:

The Bone Season series (The Bone Season, The Mime Order, The Song Rising, The Mask Falling, The Dark Mirror, and other stories) by Samantha Shannon

The year is 2059. For two centuries, the Republic of Scion has led an oppressive campaign against unnaturalness in Europe.

In London, Paige Mahoney holds a high rank in the criminal underworld. The right hand of the ruthless White Binder, Paige is a dreamwalker, a rare and formidable kind of clairvoyant. Under Scion law, she commits treason simply by breathing.

When Paige is arrested for murder, she meets the mysterious founders of Scion, who have designs on her uncommon abilities. If she is to survive and escape, Paige must use every skill at her disposal – and put her trust in someone who ought to be her enemy.

Fantasy, dystopia, paranormal, urban fantasy, near future, series, adult

Witchmark by C.L. Polk (The Kingston Cycle series)

In an original world reminiscent of Edwardian England in the shadow of a World War, cabals of noble families use their unique magical gifts to control the fates of nations, while one young man seeks only to live a life of his own.

Magic marked Miles Singer for suffering the day he was born, doomed either to be enslaved to his family's interest or to be committed to a witches' asylum. He went to war to escape his destiny and came home a different man, but he couldn’t leave his past behind. The war between Aeland and Laneer leaves men changed, strangers to their friends and family, but even after faking his own death and reinventing himself as a doctor at a cash-strapped veterans' hospital, Miles can’t hide what he truly is.

When a fatally poisoned patient exposes Miles’ healing gift and his witchmark, he must put his anonymity and freedom at risk to investigate his patient’s murder. To find the truth he’ll need to rely on the family he despises, and on the kindness of the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen.

Fantasy, romance, mystery, paranormal, secondary world, adult

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puckpocketed · 4 months ago

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As someone who’s the go-to prospects blog in my mind, do you have any thoughts on Aron kiviharju dropping to the fourth round? The video the Wild shared after he got drafted is soo interesting to me

"Let me tell you one thing, man; you just made the biggest steal of the draft. I promise you that."

29/06/2024 - The Minnesota Wild draft Aron Kiviharju 122nd overall

Aron Kiviharju was supposed to go 1st overall.

Can you be a bust before you ever get drafted? Can the narrative miasma of going 1st overall linger on someone who went 122nd?

Kiviharju’s first game report from the 2024 EP Draft Guide is dated November 24th, 2019. He was 13 back then. According to them, no other player in EP's database — nor in any other draft guide this year — has had scouts' eyes on them so early, for so long. They say he understands the game beyond what's reasonable for a player his age, that he's always excelled while playing above his year level, that even though he's small and light there's something special about his game. Singular, elite, a phenom. This child is the next big thing. He is 13, 14, 15, he is anointed Boysaviour before his voice has cracked.

How many times have we heard this story before?

One day, Aron Kiviharju will be competing with and against players his age. And when that day comes, it might feel a bit odd for the defenceman. For years, ever since Kiviharju was young, he has played up a level, or two, or three. At age 13, he was playing U16 hockey with TPS Turku and, this past season, as a 15-year-old, he started with TPS’ U18 team before moving on to the U20 club. His numbers – 30 points in 35 games – would be deemed impressive for a 19-year-old forward, never mind a young defenceman who only turned 16 in January.

Steven Ellis' article on Kiviharju for Daily Faceoff, early September 2023, broadens the scope of public scrutiny even further:

Time travel back to 2022, and you'll find his name is printed right next to some familiar faces from this year's draft: Macklin Celebrini, Cole Eiserman, Berkly Catton, Ivan Demidov — except, they're all listed as possible challengers to his assumed throne.

And then, the accident.

The glaring flag on Kiviharju's draft profile, and across every report, every interview, and article since is the reality of his stalled potential. A scout’s job is to project a player’s future, but progress is rarely linear. What might halt a once-promising player's progress? Injuries and global pandemics and a poorly managed season or two; these things don't care for destiny. For every realised prodigy there are a dozen more who will fall short of expectations — this is something you pick up fast reading backdated draft guides and sifting through the history of the NHL.

In Kiviharju's case, the dislocated kneecap and the skate cut to the throat are the things most will write about. Behind the scenes, however, there were evidently other factors that contributed to his drop to the 4th round.

You see, every time I think I've escaped it, the size issue comes back.

The belief remains, however, that larger is better. I’m understating just how much it pervades hockey discourses: it’s present in scouting reports and has had measurable impacts on drafting; I hear it on professional and amateur hockey podcasts; it’s thrown out casually during interviews by coaches and fellow players. I can’t read or listen to anything about Faber without stumbling across it — the preoccupation with size. I’ll be very clear here: I’m not reading anything malicious from specific people, I’m not accusing anyone of crimes, and in no way am I implying that ice hockey is unique here. Just the opposite, in fact. I know professional sports hinges upon producing stars, that the commodification of young bodies is endemic to the business. Those stars are, stripped down to the basest definition, workers who perform with their bodies and sell their labour, whose bodies will inevitably be coveted and revered for their adherence to the Platonic Ideal of their respective crafts. For men’s sports, there’s something extra on top of the commodification of children’s bodies — it’s the vernacular of near-fetishistic worship; of the masculine, the oxymoronic youthful-but-mature, the virile. The language used to praise Faber and other young d-men like him has my stomach twisting in a discomfort that I find hard to quantify — players, coaches, and the media all talk about him, and the hockey blinders slip. He’s a “workhorse”, a “stud”, he’s got “a man’s body” — and call it projecting, call it reading too deeply into innocuous statements, but the closest thing I can compare it to is hearing my AFAB body spoken about as an object whose value can be reduced to its function, its usefulness, its closeness to sexual maturity.

Excerpt from the last time I wrote about a Minnesota d-man (sensing a pattern here).

Kiviharju probably would've dropped some places regardless of his injury and missed time; that's where the league is trending right now in terms of draft preference. When you're small, every mistake is amplified by your lack of size. You must be twice as skilled, faster, more consistent.

p. 595, The 2024 Elite Prospects NHL Draft Guide

Kiviharju's media appearances read like someone who is haunted by his draft stock despite his assertions otherwise.

Kiviharju's bold proclamation, caught on GM Bill Guerin’s hot mic, that the Wild just got "the biggest steal of the draft” will likely be associated with Kiviharju's rise — or perhaps his fall — as Minnesota media and fans work at their mythmaking. I don't know if I want to care about some hockey myths anymore. My appetite for them sours day by day. These myths were started by the eyes and hands and mouths of people watching a boy of 11 play hockey, who witnessed him and salivated at his unwritten future. Part of me thinks: I don't want to be complicit in their continued weaving — though I know I will be anyway.

I read what he says in the lead up to the draft and it's like he's telling himself as he tells us; that he will not care, because he is worth more than this.

From Kiviharju's draft day interview, transcribed by me:

Q: What's the biggest thing you learned about yourself going through the rehab process? AK: Kind of like... it's — life is more than hockey. Hockey is the biggest thing for me. I love the sport. I will do this for the rest of my life, for sure. First playing it, then probably I will continue with hockey after my career, so I've been always thinking like that, and I'm still thinking like that, but it's just that it's — more. Life is more than just hockey, there's a lot of things. And there's a lot of different things about myself, kind of like when you don't — if hockey is my fuel and I'm a car and I'm 200 days without getting any fuel, we have to find some new ways how to get that fuel, to keep my car going. - Q: How has your cut healed since U-18's? AK: Yeah so (he gestures to the cut right below his jawline) that was a pretty close one, but thank God we're alive. That's what I kind of meant when I said that this life is more than just hockey. So first you're 200 days without playing hockey and when you come back your first game the World Under 18's a skate cuts your throat open, so it's very close calls, and that's when you remember that this is only hockey.

Whatever happens, I want Kiviharju to hold on to this. Don't get me wrong, I'm rooting for him. In so many ways, he fits the archetype of players I enjoy. I want him to make it to the show and blow everyone's expectations out of the water and bring Minnesota the Cup. I love this team, even if I rarely post about them. Even still, whether he shoots into stardom or he washes out of the NHL, it doesn't fucking matter. It's only hockey.

And he is more than his ability to live up to our myths.

#van puckpocketed appears out of the mist to post their biannual mn wild nervy-b <3 lmao did everyone know i follow this team #its in the bio.... pickaxe-drink-pinetree.. get it?? mine-soda-wild <3 #I have a crisis of faith about what we do to children in the name of 'excellence' every single time I think too hard about sports #This piece was written as a personal work sorry anon !! probably not the vibe check u were lookin for #beyond that... i want to present a different reading. i mostly just feel bad for this kid what with all the eyes on him <3 #minnesota wild #aron kiviharju #wild lb #hockeyedit #nhledit #anon #asks #puck!script #puck!gif #p!gif:wild #my writing #puckscouting #2024 draft class

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thebeesareback · 1 year ago

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Oi fuckers,

If you're here for weird crap from the original Sherlock canon, welcome.

Someone force-feeds a goose a rare jewel

A lord comes into 221b Baker Street and explains that he might be from a slightly different social class than Sherlock's regulars. Sherlock agrees -- he's used to helping out kings, actually. (I mean, the dumbass who lost his nudes, but still)

A woman runs away from her wedding and is later seen with a lady named Flora. Flora had sent threats to the bride and groom, attempted to crash the wedding and generally causes problems on purpose, and therefore is arrested when the police believe the bride has been murdered. Turns out Flora had nothing to do with the situation, but you never find out why Flora and the bride were hanging out or what happened to her next

Sherlock discusses the "ultimate destiny" of a goose

As mentioned in a previous post, there was a case where a woman became engaged to her stepfather when he was disguised. Three stories later, a woman sees her husband wearing a bit of makeup and does not recognise him. Six stories after this, a man hires a young woman who looks like his daughter to attempt to convince his SIL-to-be that his daughter isn't interested in getting married any more. This does not work

A man is squished to death by hydraulic press

Another man is nearly squished by the same hydraulic press, and tries to work out if he should lie on his front or his back -- if he lies on his front, his spine will snap painfully, if he lies on his back, he'll have to look up at the press coming down to kill him. He escapes

Watson makes friends with a guard at Paddington Station

Irene Addler's name is sometimes changed to "Irena" in adaptations, because it has a "continental flavour" (according to Wikipedia)

#john watson #johnlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #watson #superwholock #acd holmes #acd johnlock #acd sherlock holmes #acd watson~

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shhh-secret-time · 9 months ago

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We're back with another Soulmate AU request AND another request from AO3, they're so rare these days! I wanted to do something special for Craig, I kind of feel like he'd be a fuck destiny kinda guy. Anyway y'all know the drill.

Warning: Hot Pokemon takes, Strong-Language, Clyde being a dork again

Pairing: Craig x GN!Reader

Crack

"Hm.."

Snap

"Dude. Stop."

Pop

"Dude! Stop!"

Clyde's voice pulls Craig's gaze over, the bored expression on his face would normally make anyone flinch back but Clyde's used to the look. Years of friendship with the stoic man will desensitize anyone to that kind of look. Craig swears it's just because Clyde's an idiot, no one else in South Park takes that kind of tone with him.

"You sound like a glow-stick over there! I swear you've already popped all those fingers a minute ago, are you on your knuckles now or something?" Clyde puts his DS down on his lap with a grumble.

He's slouched so far down on Craig's couch it looks like he's melting into it, the lower half of his body is barely on the couch at all. He's all but holding himself up with his legs while his back rests on the firm cushions beneath him. He looked like a slinky being tossed down the stairs, but if it got stuck going down a step.

"You're in my house." Craig responded so matter of fact.

Then he finished cracking the hand he was in the middle of working on. He presses his thumb against each finger on his hand. Once each little finger makes that satisfying sound, he wraps his hand around the other and squeezes. His thumb and index finger settle just below the knuckles, feeling the muscles and bone shift under his grip a shiver runs down his spine.

"Gaaaaaah! That doesn't hurt you? You're gonna fuck up your hands man." Clyde physically squirms at the sound, twisting and rolling back and forth as if he's trying to escape the sound.

"No. I like it." Craig picks his DS up from his lap and continues playing on the little handheld device.

"Alright but when you have old grandpa hands at the age of twenty-five don't come crying to me. Spongebob broken finger head-ass." Clyde smirks, returning to the game with his friend.

Craig side eyes him, shooting a small glare his direction but it goes unnoticed. Once again, Clyde is lucky he's one of his best friends. Being stupid makes you brave apparently.

The two fall into a comfortable silence, the music from Clyde's DS playing loudly while Craig's is shut off. The sound of both games going on at once drove Craig mad. If the music didn't line up it felt like someone jabbing him in the head. So, he settled for listening to Clyde's, he knew the brown-haired man liked the Pokemon sound track anyway. A small tradition they started in middle school that's held up. Playing Pokemon next to each other on the weekends, if one got Green the other got Red. If one got Sapphire, the other got Ruby. Right now, Craig has Diamond, and he has Pearl.

Craig was no means a perfectionist, but something about the incomplete Pokedex drove him mad. He hated looking at the black silhouette of a Pokemon uncaught, the taunting ??? made him want to spike the thing into the ground. They would spend hours next to one another talking about their teams, racing to see who could beat the Elite Four before the other, making fun of each other's favorite Pokemon. Craig long since beat the game and was just waiting on Clyde to catch up, he was still waiting on Clyde to catch his Slowpoke like he promised him forever ago.

Clyde was a Slowpoke.

He chuckles at the thought making Clyde look up at him with his brow raised but he chooses not to say anything. After a while Craig closes his DS and chooses to watch Clyde walk around the tall grass.

"You're using the Scyther I traded you?" he asks, resting his cheek on top of Clyde's head. Holding himself up right now sounded exhausting, Clyde made the perfect head rest. Even if he wasn't slumped down on the couch, their height difference allowed for it. To be fair Craig's height difference allowed him to do this to just about anyone. The only person he couldn't comfortably do this too would be Broflovski.

"Yeah! He’s my favorite! He's a handsome devil, reminds me of myself!" Clyde tucks his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, the smug smirk on his lips makes his face look stupid.

"Do you wanna evolve him? You can trade him over and we can turn him into a Scizor."

"Nah, then I'll lose all the affection I've been building him with! Look I've got two little hearts by his head! He loves me man!"

"You can build it back."

"Maybe you can toss away your Pokemon’s affection, but not me Tucker! He doesn't need to change! He's perfect the way he is!" Clyde exclaims as he throws his hand in the air.

Craig's about to respond but stops when Clyde encounters another Pokemon, a Pachirisu nothing out of the normal. But what was out of the normal was the stripe on its tail wasn't the typical baby blue, it was a bright pink. Craig's eyes widen as the sparkles swirl around the little animated creature.

And typical Clyde just button mashes through the whole thing, he's not paying attention to the DS, going on about his love for his Scyther. His thumb moves over the attack button and Craig wants to grab his hand to stop him. But once again he's not fast enough, and the low leveled thing is easily defeated by his level sixty something Pokemon.

"Um dude...you know I love hugs and all, but I thought you hated them?" Clyde's voice is muffled under Craig. Craig has him pinned under him against the couch, chest pressed into his side, arm outstretched to grab the DS.

"Dude! That was a shiny! You could have caught that!" Craig's exclaims shaking the man under him.

"What?! Oh man! I didn't know!"

"How the fuck didn't you know?! It sparkled! It's fucking pink!"

"Uh...was it?"

"What?" Craig stops shaking him at that, tightened fists around his collar loosen only slightly.

"I didn't know, you know I'm color-blind right?" Clyde takes the opportunity to sit up, he chuckles at Craig's expression.

Although rare, it's not unheard of. Craig isn't a robot, or a man born without emotions, he just has a hard time expressing them sometimes. Clyde knows that, but it's still funny every time he sees that crack in Craig's usual stoic nature. Even more so that it was over a stupid video game and Clyde's inability to see color.

So instead of responding to him Craig shakes his head and furrows his brows, confusion written clear on his face.

"Yeah man," Clyde takes a breath in between cackling. "I'm completely color blind, lost it when we were in high school. It's my soulmate thing. I see in black and white now." He waves his hand over his face with a dorky grin.

He doesn't respond at first, taking a moment to take in what his best friend was saying. "I just thought you dressed like that on purpose."

"Come on dude! Would it kill you to say something nice to me?! Just oNCE!?" Clyde smacks him with the cushion tucked behind him which Craig uses to beat him back.

After a brutal beat down using a couch cushion, Craig pulls back the weapon and looks down at the defeated pile of Donovan further pressed into his couch. He sits back with his leg pulled up towards his chest, arm thrown lazily across his knee.

"So, you can't see color because you haven't met your soulmate? That sounds rough."

"Yeah, it kinda sucks, it's gonna sound gay but I miss seeing things like the sunset and movies are kinda lame now. I still wear this jacket because at least I know it's red." Clyde collects himself and tries to fix his hair that's been flattened down.

"Hm." A low grunt and Craigs on his feet.

To anyone else it would be the end of the conversation, it would be their que to move on and talk about something else. But Clyde isn't just anyone. He's the guy who's been with Craig since they were kids, he knows that grunt. That shift in body language. Craig's uncomfortable but wants to say something.

"Come on Tucker Bear don't be like that, tell me what's going on." The nickname earns him a glare, but it stops the black haired man from going to the kitchen. He grins at him in return, telling Craig that he's getting what he wants.

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"That you love it so much and you're so grateful that your best friend would give you the best nickname ever." The sentence is almost cut short from the way he scrambles back away from Craig, holding his hands up defensively. His voice is cracking from the way he tries to keep the giggle out of it.

Craig stops and sighs, his hands come up to the strings on the side of his hat. The frayed yellow rope splitting at the ends from how often he twists it between his fingertips. He does it when he needs to collect his thoughts, figure out a way to put them into words.

".... you didn't tell me you got your Soulmate thing." It finally comes out in a soft tone.

"Are you upset because I didn't tell you? I'm sorry man." Clyde's silly demeanor drops, quickly shifting to one that matches his friend’s tone. He stands up and follows him into the kitchen.

"No. I just..." A pause and he opens the fridge door. Scanning the inside for something to drink, his mouth is incredibly dry right now. "...didn't know. I thought you were like me."

"Like you?"

"Like...born without a mark or whatever."

"Oh."

That's all he can say, all that comes out of his mouth. Craig snaps the can of soda open and takes a sip and it feels like a rock settling in his stomach. His lips press together tasting the sugary drink on his lips. The rock in his stomach lurches up when he sees Clyde's eyes well up with tears, little beads of water spilling from his lids. For the second time that day, he makes Craig's eyes widen.

"Are you crying?"

He quickly goes to wipe the tears away from his brown eyes, the little orbs always looked like a baby cow's. Using the sleeves on his jacket, he sniffles and looks up at him. "It's just- you don't have a soulmate!"

"Yeah, I know."

"That's so sad dude!"

"I guess."

He sobs again, the tears spill faster and harder down his face. Craig sighs and gives into the over dramatic man an awkward pat on the back. The rest of the day was spent calming Clyde down and reassuring him that he wasn't actually angry at him for killing the shiny. They watch a few episodes of Red Racer where Craig describes the colors for him until he got tired of it.

All through the day the conversation gnawed at the back of his head. It followed him to bed and kept him from sleeping. Clyde refused to go home so he spent the night on the floor next to him. Didn't want to sleep on the couch but didn't want to sleep in the bed with him. Wanted to be near but not close enough to make Craig want to peel his skin off. He appreciated the idiot.

But it was that idiots fault he was thinking so hard on this. Why was he born without a soul-mate tic, or thing or whatever the fuck it was called. Were there others like him or was Craig Tucker really that just unlucky? Why did he care so much, he made it this far in life by himself. So why was it just now starting to eat at him?

With a huff he turned and rolled over towards the window next to his bed, staring up at the night sky. The moon was half full today, and it was cloudy out so he could barely see the stars. He was a grown man majoring in Astronomy, he didn't need a stupid mark to tell him where to go and who to be with. He could still see color fine. No flowers were blooming out of his face making his allergies act up.

No, it was just him. Just him and whatever was out there waiting for him. Right now, he really wanted it to be sleep.

Eventually he gave in to the tired behind his eyes, lids so heavy he couldn’t keep them open anymore but burned when he finally closed them. Clyde was gone the next morning when he finally woke up, he left him a text saying he was going to pick his sister up and do something with her.

It didn't matter he had class to get to anyway, the semester was in full swing, and he didn't have time to fall behind. As he gets ready, pulling his blue hat over his head and the matching NASA jacket over his shoulders, he peers down at his DS left on the side table. He picks it up and tucks it into the pockets of the jacket, in between classes he could wait in the lounge and play on it a little more. There wasn't much left to do but he could always grind his team to a hundred.

Once he feels ready, he steps out of his house and starts the walk to the bus stop. Ever since he moved out of his parents the walk to the college campus took a little longer than normal, so it was easier to just ride the bus there. He sticks his headphones in and settles in the worn-out seats of the dirty looking white bus. Somehow cleaner than the yellow ones from when he was still a teenager, but not by much. The music from his DS playing in his ears drowns out the sounds of people mumbling to themselves and whatever other weird thing South Park could throw at him.

It also drowns out your footsteps. Drowns out your question if the seat next to him was taken. So, it isn't until he feels you sitting next to him that he notices you're there. He side-eyes you for a moment, which you return with a little nod. A part of him is relieved when you don't immediately try to make small talk with him. Instead, you offer him a little smile and go back to the book in your hand. His amber eyes travel down to peek at what it is you're reading, and he's surprised when instead of a textbook he sees a comic.

Guardians of the Galaxy

From the angle you were holding it, he couldn't tell exactly what issue you were on, but the cover looked good. He cocks his head to the side a little to get a better look. Feeling his eyes on you, you look up at him and raise a brow. It takes a second, but you piece together what he's trying to do so you close the comic and show it off to him.

You're on an issue he's already read through. He removes the headphones from his ear.

"I didn't think anyone else read the Guardians series." Craig says, it's out of pocket for him to be the first to initiate but the thought of meeting someone who's a fan like him is actually exciting. It's enough to pull him out of his little mental funk.

"Yeah! I just started collecting these issues last week! Have you read this series?" You say with a smile that’s a little too bright for him.

He nods again at you, and that's where the conversation should have ended. You go back to your reading, and he goes back to his game. But it doesn't, you lean over and catch a glimpse at what he's playing. He watches the recognition sparkle up in your eyes.

"Oh, which one is that? Gen four, right?"

"Yeah. It's Diamond."

"Oh! Cool! I've got Platinum! I gotta default to the third one because I don't have friends who play the game!" You laugh at your own joke, eyes going from the DS to his.

Craig stares down at you for a while. He sets the DS in his lap and pushes the palm of his hand against his fingers. Hands popping and snapping again, the little tic making him relax. You don't comment like Clyde does, but you are still talking.

"Gen four has to be my favorite in the series! I just couldn't get into Black and White!" That makes him stop and look at you like you're crazy.

"That's the best one in the series though."

"That's what everyone tells me, but I hated the starters!"

Time slips past him, the way you pull him into the conversation so naturally. It isn't until the bus pulls up to the campus that he realizes he's been talking to you the entire time. You perk up when the bus lets out a sigh and a hiss, telling its passengers that they've reached their destination.

"Oh, this is my stop! Hey, it was awesome talking with you!" You grin and stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

You give him a little finger salute and take off, you're so quick to scurry away he doesn't have time to tell you that this is his stop too. Of course he's never noticed you around campus before, Craig was never one to waste his energy on things that didn't require it. He had his select group of friends and was happy with that, but now here you were wedging your way into his mind. As he stands up to get off the bus, lazily throwing the headphones over his neck, it dawns on him that he didn't even catch your name.

Oh well, so much for that. Maybe he'd see you around.

The universe must have answered that for him because the next morning he sees you on the bus again. He watches as you push past the isle of seats and plop down next to him with another book in your hand. A different issue, a different conversation. There are days where you sit in silence doing your own thing. Then there are days where you talk his ear off and he just sits and listens, occasionally throwing in his thoughts on whatever you're talking about.

But he listens. That was new, normally he just tends to zone out if he doesn't care. Somehow you find a way to make him care, a way to make him invested in the conversation. He even goes out of his way to learn your name and what you're studying.

"Ah it's just general studies right now, a little bit of everything until I figure out what I wanna do. I wasn't even planning on going to college, it just kinda happened." You tell him leaning back in your seat.

"What, so you just woke up one day and decided that was it?" Craig scoffs a bit at the idea but the amused glint in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Heh. Well Mr. Space-boy not all of us know what we wanna do with life from the womb." You snicker at his reaction, tallying another eyeroll in your head.

"It's Space-Man. I'm Space-Man Craig." He corrects you before moving on, so you don't comment on the little pink hue on his face. "I get that but how do you go from I'm not going to college, to just doing it?"

You smile, it's different than the dorky one you usually shoot at him or the one when you tell a bad joke. It almost seems sad. He can't put his finger on it, but he doesn't need to wait long for you to roll up your sleeve. On your wrist is a font that looks almost like an alarm clock, the block black ink reads "0:00".

"Had this guy I was with. Was with him for six years, we were high-school sweethearts, prom date, whole nine yards. They were my soulmate, the little counter on my wrist told me that much." You take a deep breath, and he watches the way your fingers move across the skin.

He pops his fingers again, pushing them against each other.

"Well, about a year ago I realized...I kinda hated it? Hated the fact this stupid mark on my body got to dictate who I fell in love with? I mean we didn't even have anything in common, and while we never really argued we just had a different outlook on life. I think a part of me still loves him, but...I can't really love him in the way this thing wants me to." You emphasize that you're talking about the marking on your skin by holding it up.

Little rays of sunlight brush across your skin and Craig can't help but follow it. You had a soulmate, of course you did. He feels that rock in his stomach again, weighing heavier than it did last time. The week he got where he wasn't thinking about this whole thing was nice, but now that he's reminded his body tenses back up.

He cracks his fingers again, squeezing the side of the palm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trauma dump on you." He raises a brow at you silently asking you what you mean by that. "Call it a sixth sense, or the fact that you pop your fingers and do that little Hm when you're thinking about something. So, I figured you were annoyed by the random dump."

You were more attentive than he would have given you credit for. He hasn't known you that long and you're already picking up on things that took Clyde years to. Then again, Clyde and attentive don't really go hand in hand.

"No, it's not you. It's the..." He rolls his wrist a few times trying to find the words, fingers eventually find purchase on the strings of his hat dangling by his face. "Soul-mate thing. I don't have one."

"Ah yeah, I can see how that's a weird topic for you then! But hey that's kind of cool!" You beam up at him, the sunlight slips off your wrists and onto your lips.

Wait, what?

"You get to pick who you wanna love, that's awesome. That means the connection goes deeper! You gotta build something with someone, nothing telling you to just jump straight into a relationship! No pressure, just you and the other person!" Your eyes are like little stars as you speak. A tiny galaxy that he can't seem to pull himself out of.

Wait, what?

Like clockwork, the bus stops and you go to get up. Except this time Craig is fast enough, he takes your hand. His fingers slip into your palm and stop you from moving. Your finger salute falls back to your side. He just looks at you for a while, the only thing he can hear right now is the collection of people getting off the bus and his own heartbeat drumming in his chest.

"If you're not getting off, I need you to sit down please!" The bus driver makes you flinch and sit back down next to Craig.

"Sorry sir!" You call back.

When you look back at him with a confused look, he freezes again. His mouth hangs open for a second, only to close. He almost looks like a fish out of water from the way he's trying to collect his thoughts. Craig expects you to get back up and tell him goodbye. To run off the bus and never speak to him again.

Instead, you sit there, patiently waiting for him to collect himself. You wait there even when the door to the bus shuts and the engine kicks back on. You look at him with wonder and he has to avert his gaze from you. Pulling his hat over his eyes for a moment because he realizes he's still holding your hand and the heat coming up to his face is too much.

"I... I’m sorry. I just wanted to-" What did he want? His mind was drawing a blank, he was floating and the only teather was your hand in his.

He knew he wanted to keep holding your hand. He knows your touch doesn't bother him like it should. He wants to steal a few more moments with you because these bus rides aren't enough time. Something he's never felt before.

"You're good. Take your time." You can't know what that means to him to hear you say that. To not pull your hand away and call him a freak for just grabbing you like that. Instead, you turn your palm over and give his hand a squeeze back.

"I want to...do that." He says it. With his eyes covered so he's not blinded by that smile on your face. He can hear it in your voice, the way you chuckle.

"Do what?"

"You know what I'm trying to say."

"Maybe. You better say it just so I can be sure." You're teasing him now, leaning forward so you can get a peek at his blushing face.

Craig huffs again, frustration building up in his chest. He moves the hat from his face and stares you down like a showdown. His brows knitted together with newfound determination.

"I want to build a connection past this." There. It's out. Out in the open, out in the space between the both of you. Confession falls from his mouth in that monotone voice he's so famous for.

"Hell yeah. I'd like that Space-Man Craig." You laugh and it sounds so sweet.

He smiles down at you, and it feels like a gift. It's the first time you've seen him look at you like that. You make a silent promise to yourself that it will not be the last time you see it.

"So, any idea where the bus is going now?"

"No idea. Wanna get off at the next stop and walk to campus?"

"Nope! You stopped me from going to class so now you're taking me out. I want food!"

Craig scoffs at you and takes the headphones off his neck, he offers you the other bud. He sticks the one in his ear and pulls out his phone. His fingers slide across the screen going for the music app. He hands you the phone and gestures for you to pick something.

You excitedly take him up on the offer, sticking the bud in your ear. You begin going on about whatever album you’ve been listening to, and the whole ride he sits and listens to you. Nodding along so you know he’s listening, not that he really has to. You can tell from the way he looks at you that you have his undivided attention.

So wrapped up in the music and your voice he doesn’t even notice the font on your wrist change. It’s not that boring clock anymore, it shifts and swirls around. A moving tattoo that eventually turns into a painting melting down your arm. The deep darkness of space with a little astronaut sitting on the moon, just watching the sun.

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