#i still need to get my rules. tempted to reblog a set from the other blogs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tittyblade · 3 years

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tumblr etiquette 101

a list that is nowhere near exhaustive, from yours truly.

First off, welcome! Whether you’re a twitter veteran looking for anything but whatever twitter is, or a new user just done signing up, glad to see you in our ranks beloveds! Welcome home. Refer to this quick tour to make sure your fandom experience (or tumblr experience in general) is a positive one!

Disclaimer: I know it’s long, but please try to read or skim through til the end if you’re new here! This is by no means meant to be a rule book (for the most part lol), only a guide to help you get settled easier!

1) Your blog

This is where people will see and interact with you, so put some effort into it!

Try to choose a name (url) that’s simple. You can see it as your brand, it’s how people will perceive you and remember you. If you’d like to interact with other users here (and not use the site just for the content) it’s better to have something short and sweet, preferably without spaces. (Of course, these are only suggestions.) Rest assured, you can change it literally any time you want.

Have a theme. Utilize the tool that lets you edit your blog’s color or the font of your bio! You can make it match your profile picture, or your blog if it has a theme of its own. Make it feel homey :]

Fill in your bio. People will be checking out your profile probably more often than you think. Don’t leave it empty! Put in any information you’re comfortable with sharing and isn’t too personal (like your age if you’re a minor, or other TMI that can be found on other people’s carrds). It’s always better to add a name/nickname people can use to refer to you by, but feel free to use your blog description to shitpost still.

You can have an intro post. More often than not, you’ll see a blog have a pinned post, a post permanently appearing at the top of a blog until you pin another post or unpin it. You can make one of those, if you’d like to introduce yourself in more length, link any other socials or a carrd, and show others visiting your blog how you tag things so it’ll be easy for them to navigate. Not an obligation.

Keep your anonymity and your safety. It should go without saying, but there’s no harm in repeating it just in case. Your comfort, privacy and safety has the utmost importance. Don’t share any information you don’t want to. Don’t share your age if you’re a minor, or any other incredibly personal info. I’d encourage you to go by a nickname that’s not your real name, (blog name, your brand, remember?) since there’s safety in anonymity, and that’s lowkey one of the big deals of tumblr, but that’s up to you still.

Choose what you want to be visible. Your liked posts and who you follow are all things you can set to keep to yourself and hide from the publics eye, how handy! You should go through all the setting while you’re at it, set it to your comfort.

Side blogs are a thing. You can have multiple blogs that you can use for different things (see: different fandoms, art blog, etc) to keep them organized or away from your followers. Just remember that the replies and off-anon asks you send will be from your main blog, as well as where you follow other blogs from.

2) Interacting with others

You’ve set up your account, now comes the fun part!

Follow to your heart’s desire. If you care about others seeing who you follow, fear not! In tumblr, usually only two types of blogs keep their following visible to others: newbies, and big blogs using it to point people on other good blogs’ direction. Just turn it off, and go ham following people.

Customize your dashboard. Gonna mention just two things here: this is another reason why it’s really important that you follow blogs without sparing, your dash will collect dust otherwise; and you should turn off “best stuff first” in your dashboard settings, to have a better community here and all.

Follow tags. You can set it in your settings that posts with your followed tags appear on your dashboard.

You can check the og post for edits and context. When you see a reblogged post you don’t understand the context of (or don’t recognize the character in case of fanarts), click on the profile so it will take you to the original post. From there you can check the original poster’s tags to get the context, or see if there have been any edits made to the post, since when you edit a post it doesn’t update any past reblogs.

Send people asks... This is how you make mutuals, people! Do it off-anon if you’d like them to know your blog, or anon if you’d rather not! (You can still end your messages with a signature to show you’re the same person, -[name] is one example.) Send them nice messages, ask their opinion on something, discuss things, or just straight up shitpost lol. Go wild. The sky’s your limit and it’s definitely more than 280 characters.

...and let them ask you! You can set your preference in the settings, do it on desktop tumblr to access more settings tho! What you can customize on mobile is limited (like letting people ask you things anonymously, that’s only on desktop settings). In my personal opinion, it’s always better to tag their username (or a nickname you give them, if they’re a friend) on that post, since you wouldn’t want your interactions with your friends to get buried in your blog forever.

Comment on posts. If you have something to say but don’t want the post to appear on your blog you can add a comment. The owner of the post will get a notif for it, but for anyone else you need to tag them.

For the love of god, reblog. People will only see your liked posts if you have it visible to public and they specifically go on your blog to look at them. You like something? You reblog. It’s already hard for posts to circulate properly, if you don’t reblog them literally no one will see them. If not for anything do it for the artists. Just hold and drag on mobile to fast rb.

3) Your Posts

Finally here! Don’t be a lurker, post and engage!

Make use of “read more”. If your post is long, add it. That’s what you clicked on earlier to expand this post. On desktop leave an empty line and you’ll see three dots appear, and on mobile type :readmore: on that empty line.

Draft a post to come back to it later. Pretty self explanatory.

Queue your post. Whether it’s your own post or you’re reblogging, make use of the queue feature to a) not spam reblog and fill up the dashboard of people following you and b) keep your blog active while you’re gone. Mess around in the settings, it’s fairly easy to set up.

Schedule your post. Same as queueing, the only difference is you get to choose the exact time your post will go up. Handy if you want to schedule a post for certain dates like april fools, or 5 years in the future for some reason.

Format your texts. You can do all kinds of fancy stuff here (that’s a link, try pressing on it). Twitter doesn’t have this, make use of it. Changes depending on whether you’re on mobile or desktop. (Desktop has less features.)

Check your stats. If you’re trying to understand the algorithm better or want to look at some pretty graphs you can get your data on that on desktop tumblr.

@ people in comments. You’ll get all the notifs when people comment on your posts but they won’t see your reply unless you tag them in your message.

4) Tags, and tagging a post

This is where my earlier statement “this isn’t a rule book” stops being applicable. It’s not a war crime to go against these, I won’t come chasing you (don’t take my word for this) but you’ll work up a bad rep. Just saying lol.

Do NOT crosstag posts. It’s really tempting to add unrelated tags to increase your posts’ interaction, I know, but that’s not what tumblr is about. Don’t be a dick and make other communities’ experience worse for them.

Always tag your posts with “crit/critical/discourse/etc” if it calls for it. There’s no exceptions to it. This is the reason you see people migrating to tumblr. Let people enjoy things.

Don’t main tag a critical/negative post. If your crit post is about “Thing”, you add the “Thing critical” tag, but not the “Thing” tag. People block crit tags if they don’t want to see it, don’t shove it in their faces by main tagging it.

If you don’t want to see something, just block it. Another reason why people are able to survive on tumblr. You don’t start discourse, you don’t make call-outs, you block. You can find something for every community you can think of if you go looking for it. The worst of the worst probably won’t ever appear on your dash, but if you’re worried or feel the need for it, you know where the block button is.

Feel free to shitpost or ramble. More often than not you’ll see people rb a post with a comment, and their elaboration will be in the tags. The tags are only visible on your profile and the notifications of the owner of the og blog. Just a thing people do.

Reblog artists’ posts with nice comments in the tags! Commenting on a drawing is usually done through the tags (Not an obligation, again, just a thing people do. Feel free to add your comment on the rb itself if you’d want other people to see it tho!) and leave nice messages for the artists! It’s a win-win for everyone involved.

If you have more than a single follower, always use the common tw warning tags. You don’t need to tw everything, but tw’ing some common things is the bare minimum human decency. Keep it safe for others.

Tag a post “long post” if it’s really long. Pretty self explanatory. Don’t make people scroll through all that please lol.

You can use them to organize your blog. This is more of a pro tip, if you’d like to not miss a post in your blog, cause they will start pilin’ up soon enough.

#Liveblogging is pretty fun. If you’d like to talk to people during streams, don’t forget to add the relevant tags still! Again, you won’t show up on people’s dash otherwise.

Whew! That got out of hand. Hopefully I didn’t bore you too much. Check out blogs like @heritageposts and @hellsite-hall-of-fame to honor our past o7. @mcytblr-hall-of-fame too maybe :eyes:. Anyways, don’t forget the most important rule of them all:

Enjoy your stay! You’re meant to have fun on here while also making friends (if that’s your thing). Just be kind and respectful of others, you’ll get the hang of the rest! <3

#mcyttwt #mcytblr #dream team #dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #tumblr #how to tumblr #gonna tag ppl now so more users will see it lol #dreamwasteken #georgenotfound #karl jacobs #technoblade #sbi #twitter #twitter discourse #sbitwt #sleepytwt #sleepy bois inc #HOLY shit this took so long omg my back literally hurts rn #the fuckin lengths i go to make sure tumblr doesnt get tainted w twt LMAO #anyways if youre seeing this you should follow me look at how sexy i am i spent the last 2+ hours typing this goddamn list out #also: ignore how i literally sound like its 2014 at some parts here lol i tried my best #also ignore how wack the paragraph breaks are tumblrs formatting hates me and its 4 am im too tired for this #third also: some bits here are supposed to be ironic keep that in mind pls #rolan.txt #long post #save #yes im tagging my own post as save what about it

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msfett · 3 years

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✨ Chapter 7: The Visible Spectrum

Boba Fett x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW Explicit 18+ Only

C/W: Explicit Sexual Content, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, Angst, Enemies to Lovers

Some Stuff 😊 Agh. Duuude. I waffled hard on this chapter, and this is where it landed. My story-telling integrity flew right out the window. This is pretty much straight up PWP porn. Honestly, I just want to get freak-nasty with Boba one more time before the angst-ridden plot returns.

For the super sweet faithful peeps, I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for your investment in this fic! If this saga is a new narrative for you, I sincerely hope you enjoy this naughty chapter! If you prefer AO3 (msfett_ifyourenasty), this series is cross-posted there. If you're feeling this series, I’d love to hear from you, and please feel free to reblog and share 💕

🎶 Musical Motivation/Lyrical Inspiration: Mouth by Bush

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It could be any time during the planetary rotation as you lie in the cramped bed with him. The constant dreariness on Kamino gives no motivation to move. And for once, that’s fine. Exhausted, you’d drifted off without hesitation, dreamless as perhaps he’s been. You’ve not felt him so relaxed, side by side, his body conforming to yours. His arm provides a weighted embrace around your waist, hand below your breast as his fingers tuck around your rib cage. The closeness, this type of stillness is strange for you, and likely for him.

Though natural during sleep, his partial erection is nonetheless suggestive pressing between your cheeks, and your thoughts drift back to the night before. He’d engulfed you in his conflict, consumed your body with fiery need, compelled you to relinquish your own guarded pieces. He was overwhelming, but honest in how he’d made you feel, seeing private glimpses of obscured secrets.

You’d both been bare, faces expressive to the other. His scars were displayed, moments of pain that had healed, some by your hand.

Feeling the regulated beat of his heart on your back, you attempt to reposition your body away from the warm beckon of his breath tickling against your neck. You don’t want to fall into his trap again, but his grip around your body tightens, pulling you closer. “Relax ,” he whispers softly. “It’s not morning yet.”

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“Was, ‘til you moved,” he drawls, accent thick and drowsy.

Adversity has curiously gifted you a strange bedfellow, one whose arms are oddly comforting. His anger seems to have been dramatically doused in this sleepy state, nose nuzzling behind your ear, lips skimming over your neck, languid in their effort as his body moves with no rushed intent.

His fingertips trail back and forth over your abdomen, fine hairs spontaneously rising with his touch. He tenderly traces under your breast, around the outside before cupping, supporting the weight, gently kneading the pliable flesh.

“What are you doing, Fett?” His caress is entirely different from last night. The urgency has dissipated, unhurried as his index and middle fingers trace half circles along your areola, meeting, and in unison, drag over the sensitive nipple so lightly.

“Do you want me to stop?” His touch is barely there, but your body is eager to respond, nipple stiffening along with his cock as it becomes increasingly wedged in the cleft of your ass with each sensual press of your hips.

No. Yes. No. Fuck.

“Don’t mistake my compliance for something more.” Whatever rules you’ve begun to set forth seem to be more like possible suggestions with every tempting movement of his body. He pulls you back firmly into his embrace, arms wrapped around your waist, securing your body against his as he turns onto his back, laying you on his chest.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jedi.” You can almost hear the smirk in his tone as he quickly grabs your ass, pulling you up so that your head lolls back over his shoulder. You emit the weakest sound of protest as blood rushes to your head with the sudden movement, hands flying back to the headboard to steady yourself. His stubble feels like sand against your cheekbone, rough enough to scratch, but inevitably soothing in its familiarity. His thighs are wide, allowing you to place your feet flat in between, knees automatically falling inward.

He flings off the blanket leaving you completely exposed, cold air rushing to cover you instead. The contrast of his warmth is undeniably enticing with your body laying over his as your spine incrementally arches, stretching to accentuate the natural curvature. His pectoral muscles inadvertently flex as he traces fingertips along your clavicle to the hollow of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Don’t say it like that.” Even though you’re on top of him, he’s ensured a position of control, able to access your entire body, fingers keen to explore each contour. And right now, you’re tired of fighting him, even if this means a second slow devastation under his hands. Yielding the strings of control, you willingly tangle in his mess. He teases gentle touch, fingers stroking your belly, the lines of your rib cage, around and in between your breasts.

“Give me your name then.” Lips brushing your ear, he lets you simmer in the building sensations. His nimble fingers begin circling your breasts with large strokes, deliberately avoiding the peaked centers, dragging out the anticipation. He eases into a gentle massage, before giving your breasts a light squeeze, and desire pools low in your belly, enough to leak between your legs.

“In some way, I’m sure you’d make it sound disrespectful.” You’re finding it increasingly difficult to complete full sentences as he slowly trails his lips along the top of your shoulder. He lightly skims a palm over each nipple before directly engaging, determined to control your pleasure. But then his stroke becomes thoroughly gratifying as he circles thumb and forefinger around each bud. The full arch of your back encourages him and he gradually increases the speed, the pressure of his rub, expertly rolling each as you writhe against him, biting back a moan.

“Want more?” You manage a shaky nod and he groans into your neck with the wordless answer. “Harder?” Your long, breathy exhale is the only motivation needed and he ramps up the pleasure, pinching your nipples, sending a rush of sensation throughout your body. The whimper you release inspires him, pinching harder, slightly pulling, fuck, twisting to see how you respond under his manipulation. He’s tantalized by your edge of pain, desiring to push your limit of heightened sensation before letting go, and you finally release a series of whimpers as waves of pleasure ripple through your body.

“Why would I want to be disrespectful when I have you laid out in this pretty position?” His tone is dark with lust and you clench around his distorted words. “All those sweet little noises you’re making for me.” He runs his hands over your hips, up trembling thighs, placing light pressure on the inside of your knees. “Open.”

And you’re angry with how eagerly you comply to his direction as he guides you to his desired wide angle. His touch is soothing, smoothing his hands along your inner thighs, fingernails tracing a pattern as he repeats the movement until he feels you relax, knees resting atop his thighs.

It’s an incredibly possessive hold he has you in, hands placed purposely over intimate areas. He’s gentle when cupping your tender breast, massaging the top with his thumb, his other hand teasing along the crease of your thigh, close to the heat he seeks. His hand encompasses your entire sex and you close your legs, desperately wanting the added pressure. But he gently encourages them to return to a wide spread.

You know he can feel the wetness, quietly whining as your hips make tiny thrusts against his hand. The tip of his cock brushes against the curve of your ass and you fervently reach for it between your legs. Before you can grasp it, he’s gently taking your wrist, moving it up for you to rake your fingers through his soft curls, making it clear he determines when.

“That can wait,” he murmurs into your neck, nipping at the skin before sucking it into his mouth. “I want to enjoy you like this.”

Your sigh is long, relenting to his will, other hand joining to tousle his hair. His touch is ultra light, two fingers brushing top-to-bottom along your inner lips, spreading the slick up. He places a finger on either side, parting the folds, completely exposing your clit to the cold air. Slipping his thick middle finger through, he trails it up, the warm digit lightly tapping and stroking the bundle of nerves. Your hips react with a small spasm, but his touch doesn’t change, his pressure exquisitely aching, hand stilling as you rock against his fingers.

His slow stroke has readied you, lips plump to receive his fingers as he simultaneously slips two in. He’s taking his time, he wants you to feel, to crave what he offers. His fingers curl, pressing and rubbing against your g-spot, telling you what to do, when to do it. Your fingers tighten in his hair with a savage grip, and he groans at the roughened action. He trails a damp hand up your body, over the track of your breastbone, sliding the slick up your chin, tracing your lips with the same wet fingers he'd used to fuck you.

“Taste,” he directs, sliding his thick fingers into your mouth, and your tongue swirls around them, licking your arousal from him, insinuating something else. He groans in understanding, both hands eager to feel the leak of your arousal, and you place your feet outside his knees for better access.

“Kiss me.” The tang of your arousal ignites a fire in him, thoughts more carnal as he sucks it off your tongue, along with any shred of rational thinking. Repositioning your feet on top of his shins, you wriggle down to feel his head slide through your soaked folds.

With the angle of your hips, his tip enters, catching enough for you to lower around his length, gradually pressing deeper, the wide head parting you, slowly and snugly sinking in. You can feel his muscles coiling in response beneath you as you purposely clench around him, feeling his cock twitch with the added tightness.

“This a one time thing, Fett.” You stifle a gasp, head jerking off the pillow when he sharply thrusts the last few inches in. “Understand?”

“Technically, it'll be two times.” He sounds vaguely amused through his own heavy panting, hands gripping low on your hips. “Sure.”

His legs provide support as you set the pace, arching your back, rocking back and forth, deepening the sensation against that spot. His callused fingers slide over your clit, building wrought tension in your belly until it’s seeping between trembling legs.

“But right now I want to taste you, breathe you in,” he growls into your ear. Then he’s clutching your ass, dragging you up his chest and tipping you over onto hands and knees. You’re gasping, furious that he’s cut you off again from your impending orgasm when his arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you towards his face. “You smell so fucking good.”

Unwanted emotions surge through you, flooding the twisted perception of his acts, but oh his mouth on you. And he’s taking his time, trailing sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, licking softly along the hollow where your thigh and sex meet before sliding his lips just over the sensitive flesh.

“Need your legs spread open for me.” And it isn’t until then you realize how hard your thighs have been squeezing as his lips move up, words whispering across your swollen cunt. Your insides practically pulse in time with each warm breath of his as sweat from his brow merges with the arousal on your thighs.

Knees widening, exaggerating the arch of your back, you lower your chest and head to his abdomen, pussy in his face. And the sound rumbling from his chest at the sight of you glistening is absolutely primal, gnawing at him to fulfill the ultimate animal act.

His cock twitches toward his navel, ready with purpose. And it’s the first time you’ve gotten to really look at him, thick and engorged, veining prominent, another signal of his masculine virility. He’d said for you to wait, but his cock hadn’t been struggling so closely to your mouth at the time.

And fuck if you don’t want to lick off the cloudy droplet leaking from his tip. Inching your cheek closer, tongue ready to taste the salt of his initial spill, he sharply sinks his fingers into your cheeks, spreading you wider, growling. “What did I say?” He is controlling from every single angle with aggravating discipline, and you immediately stop, a petulant pout crossing your face that you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing. And then, two words leave his mouth.

“Good girl.”

Oh. He said it. And it’s condescending and perversely sexy, praise wrapped in debased undertones of dominance. Never being said to you in quite this manner, it’s a sickly, delicious degradation that he slathers you in, lips ghosting over your heat. You can feel his mouth shape into a wicked smile against your now absolutely dripping cunt. It’s the same dark chuckle you heard last night. He’s completely getting off on this warped effect it’s having as you tilt your hips with a needy moan, wetting his face.

He revels in the mess you’re making, enthusiastically rubbing his face into you, groaning as his tongue makes contact; long, soft licks tracing up and down, ending as a light flick on your clit. The hot, rumbling sensation of his moan against your cunt is fucking amazing, sending shivers trembling through your body.

The warm rasp of his tongue begins to quicken with focused pressure as he slides two fingers inside, plunging deeper with each effort, anticipation building in your core. He’s tonguing you with faster, circular motions punctuated with bursts of suction on your clit. The breathy cries you’re making give away any sense of composure you’re trying to maintain. It’s half pleasure, half plea as he fucks you harder with his fingers. You grab the bedsheets in an attempt to grasp at something to control before completely letting him take over your body.

He shows no mercy as your moans grow wild, hips thrusting against his face until he finds what he's searching for in the tart liquid. You’re beginning to shake, nearing the edge and he can feel it. He wants to be the cause of your undoing, so he pulls away enough to make sure you hear his command.

“Come.”

And you unravel around him, shattering to pieces that melt back together only to shatter once more as a new wave of intensity rolls through you. The complete devastation from this vicious man is hideously glorious, each blasted attempt at obliteration rewarding you with a false representation of reality. What does he mean saying you make him think, make him feel? You don’t feel like you’re doing anything that would have any bearing on how he thinks, how he feels. He’s fucking impenetrable, just like his damn armor…

When only the after-tremors remain, he withdraws his hand, glazed in cum, but continues to suck gently on your clit. You’re not sure you can take anymore, thighs straining to clamp protectively against his head. He knows you’re overwhelmed, clit swollen and throbbing, but controlling the line of your pleasure and pain intoxicates him, continuing to lap at your weeping cunt.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this.”

Sex. Violence. He finds beauty in these things. By nature, both acts are base, even instinctual. By choice, they can be emotionless.

And yet last night in the midst of his anger-driven lust, he’d admitted what truly terrified him. Thoughts. Feelings.

Maybe you have evoked such things as he's seemingly drawn to you by these new fears, like a hot flame he’s been warned not to touch. He’s supposed to suppress it, to put out the fire before it spreads uncontrollably.

You’re distracted by the projected hum of arousal as his erection twitches uncomfortably on his muscled abdomen. He looks painfully hard, head lathered in a thin layer of sheen, desperate for relief, and suddenly he grabs you by the hips. In a rush of vertigo you’re thrown forward on your hands and knees. He’s behind you immediately and it feels like he’s on the verge of fucking you just like this when he roughly manhandles you to your back. He’s secured your thighs between his straddle, eyes severe and intent on holding your gaze.

Wanting to feel his lips a final time, you lean up on your elbow, pulling his face close to yours, knowing that he will continue alone on his winding, disastrous course, a passionate loathing the driving force propelling his life.

There is an unusual endearment as he embraces you, supporting your body as he brings his lips to yours. A surge of electricity passes between you, the air practically crackling as the sparking sensation seeps into your veins, and you can feel his desire.

Laying you back, he kneels, positioning your legs up in the air to rest against one shoulder. His jaw is clenched, vein throbbing on the side of neck at the sight of your naked expression and you cross your ankles, thighs squeezing together in anticipation. He wraps an arm around your ankles holding your legs closed, fisting his cock before pressing against your tightened seam. For all the reasons you shouldn’t be with this man, none feel as compelling as the want coursing from his body into yours.

His other hand firmly grips your hip as he rocks forward, nudging open your swollen sex. All he has to do is thrust and he’ll be inside, ending his palpable, pulsing agony. But he takes his time as if he knows this is his last opportunity, hips moving in circles, thick cock rubbing against your folds before shoving the tip inside.

Your eyes meet as he slowly pushes in, not breaking the gaze, arching against him into the exquisite fullness. His stare bores into you with the same unbreakable intensity as your first encounter with him, except there’s no helmet to shield him, no mask to filter the moans from your mouth.

“This is your fault,” he grits, words suspended in the space between. “This is all your fault.”

Large hands pin you to him as he drives his cock into you with a relentless pounding, hard and fast, intent on ruining you, racing to feel release. His fierce growl rumbles up from the deepest regions of his body as you clamp your legs together. His gaze is smoldering, his position one of total control as he cums, the violent stuttering pulse of his cock filling you with his abundant seed.

He slowly pulls out and sits back on his heels, watching as his legacy spills from your body, staring at the wasted DNA dribbling down your lips to form messy globs on the blanket. He screws his face, frowning at your dripping cunt, like he wants to push every drop back in, quickly angle your hips to prevent the escape of any chance of a future.

Instead, a gradual softness returns to his eyes, the hazy glow of cooling embers as he collapses on his side, throwing an arm over to pull you close. It almost feels like…like his own brusque attempt at a cuddle. Uncharacteristically, he gently presses a kiss to the scar on your temple, one of several scars he is responsible for.

His sentiment is unexpected. “I know you meant it when you said you were sorry about my father.” This sounds prepared, but not rehearsed. "You’re not to blame for any of this.”

You hear him swallow before he speaks, as if bracing for a difficult admission. "Ni trikari.”

He's torn, unsure if he wants you to actually be able to translate the simple statement. And just like the first night, you see the opening in his armor and an ache bursts through your chest.

Your Master’s wisdom rushes out from the recesses of your mind.

‘It is wise to learn a few words in many languages…’

This time the words have shed their heavy mouthfeel, wielded by the most disarming weapon, compassion.

“K’lamot di’dunla, Boba.”

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Translations:

Ni trikari - I apologize.

K’lamot di’dunla - Apology accepted. (lit. Rise, forgiven.)

Yup 🤭 I feel better now. Too gratuitous or are you smiling with me? 😉 Comments or criticisms, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

@yamaktaria @ocfairygodmother @cannedsoupsucks

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years

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Fic: Crescent Moon 1/1

Title: Crescent Moon

Pairing: Henry Cavill x YOU

Rating: Sexy, fluff, teasing, some swearing and borderline language

Summary: As a working model, you landed a coveted Dunhill Cologne job. The number one rule in the industry is NOT to get involved with your fellow models. But, the delicious blue eyed boy waiting for you on set changed your mind.

Gif by amancanfly

Note: this is absolutely a trash fic. So.. here ya go :)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘I can’t very well put my tongue in her mouth without even knowing her name, Jamie,’ Henry groused and cast a furtive glance over his shoulder to where you sat in a rickety director’s chair getting your make-up retouched.

‘You’re so fucking, English, Henry,’ Jamie replied easily. ‘Do you need a little page three girl? Get your courage up?’

‘Fuck off.’

Why would he need boobs in newspaper form when he had a real live woman right there on set?

Jamie laughed and slid an overly friendly arm around Henry where his tuxedo jacket stretched crisp and inky black across his broad shoulders.

‘Listen. You are the handsome face of Dunhill. Right? You are paid to do what you’re told and to sell the product. It’s my job as principal photographer to make you look delicious so that every little wet twat out there wants to buy this cologne for her ruddy, beer bellied husband and every lad wants to look exactly like you in the hopes of pulling a posh bird.’

Jamie thumped Henry’s chest with the base of his palm and smoothed down the artfully undone bowtie around his neck.

‘We understand each other?’

Henry nodded. He depended on Jamie for the campaign and pissing him off wasn’t in his best interest.

‘Good, now go sit in the chair and put your fucking tongue into her mouth. And for the love of god, act like you like it.’

‘What’s her name?’ Henry asked shrugging out from under the heavy arm weighing him down.

‘Fuck if I know, ask her yourself. While you’re at it, why not ask for her ring size as well and her old gran’s maiden name.’

‘Jesus Christ, Jamie. What the hell is wrong with you?’

Jamie scrubbed a hand across his unkempt face and was tempted to spill his guts about the divorce papers with which he’d been served that morning.

‘Just…. go do what I tell you and we can all get paid. We still have a night shoot on the bridge and we have to make it quick.’

With that, Jamie turned round and walked off of the dimly lighted set. To calm himself, Henry tried to push his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and not for the first time that day he remembered that they were rented and the pockets had been sewn shut. Instead, he swiped his moist hands on his thighs and went back to the curved, crescent shaped chair on the set. It was supposed to be an easy shoot. Lounge in the chair, smoulder, have girl between his thighs leaning adoringly over him, avoid looking down her low-cut top and boom – 5k in the account.

When you joined him on set, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, and half-smiled awkwardly. He’d been paired with high end models before who had been icy and hurried. But you were someone he felt he could talk to. He asked your name.

To which you turned to him, smiled curiously, and gave it.

‘I thought you already knew it,’ you said.

Henry leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together between them.

‘I turn up, do what they tell me and go home to walk my dog,’ he laughed and then cringed, caving beneath the weight of how lame he must have sounded.

He was Fat Cavill all over again, floundering and unable to talk to a pretty girl. He hated himself for it.

Henry was heartened when you made an interested noise and leaned in close.

‘What’s his name? Your dog.’

Names, he thought. See Jamie? Names were important.

‘Kal,’ he said.

‘Kal… like Kal-el?’

With his eyes brightening, he turned towards you.

‘Yeah! Like that. Do you.. I mean are you… so you know about Superman?’

You grinned and bobbed your head.

‘Who doesn’t know about Superman? I mean… my little brother collects comics and I used to watch that show back in the 90s.’

You shrugged and teased slyly, ‘Pfft, who doesn’t know about Superman,’ but in a way that asked if he was really wondering if normal people didn’t know about one of the most famous comic book superheros.

Henry wasn’t bothered by it. He he smiled, intrigued and was about to continue the conversation when Jamie, holding his massive digital camera, swaggered over and pointedly waited for you to stop talking.

‘Right, you two lovebirds getting good and acquainted?’

‘He’s nice,’ you said, pressing your elbow into Henry’s side. ‘He’s got a dog named Kal. You know, like Superman.’

Absolutely pleased with you in that moment, Henry ducked his head and squashed a grin. But Jamie looked blankly at you and then made a face of disgust.

‘Here’s how it’s going to go. You two are having an illicit night out, met at a party, little drinks, a little dancing and you’re into each other. You can’t wait to leave together. You like her, you like him and shagging is definitely on the table. I want that from you. I want longing looks, I want wet parted lips, I want sex. Ok, got it?’

He looked directly at Henry.

‘Or shall I bring out the finger puppets.’

You smiled and nodded happily. You weren’t sure what was going on with the photographer, but a job was a job and you had dealt with worse.

‘Get into your original positions, please,’ Jamie said motioning towards you.

You got up, untwisted the thin shoe strap across your ankle and waited for Henry to lay back against the chair. He reached up for you and cradled your hips as you positioned between his spread thighs. You put your knee down between them, careful not to press up against his sizable bulge and with one hand on his shoulder, you artfully leaned in. Your breasts swung forward in your skimpy top and you turned just a little so that they wouldn’t bounce out and hit him in the face.

Not that you thought he would mind, considering how fixated on them he had been for nearly the entire shoot.

But you yourself hadn’t been so innocent.

You had noticed how much he was packing when you were first posed together and that little lizard part of your brain wanted to feel him.

Henry was fixated on you and you were fixated on him. You looked down into his big puppy dog eyes and could tell that he was still feeling nervous, as he had been all morning. You wanted to relax him, maybe play a little.

‘Look at you,’ you murmured, leaning in closer as his attention snapped to your face. ‘Lying there like the perfect boy.’

Henry’s lips parted and he gave you such an adoring look that you greedily drank it in like a cool glass of wine. You popped open a few of his shirt buttons and gingerly curved your fingers about his naked throat, marvelling at how immediately the shyness melted from his eyes. One corner of his lush mouth curved up into a slight smile and the fingers clenching your hips pulled you closer. He froze when his own actions pressed your knee right into his groin. You both looked down at where you were touching him so intimately, yet neither of you moved.

‘Whatever you two are fucking doing, don’t you fucking stop.’

Jamie was close now, the camera shutter clicking madly, but he was an annoyance in your peripheral. Your entire focus was on the boy beneath you and the big hand working across your bottom.

Not wanting to give away what you were doing to him, Henry hissed in a long indulgent breath and undulated in response to the upward press of your knee. Colour seeped into his cheeks and when you leaned down, hovering your wet mouth over his, he groaned softly. Everything muted and faded into the background and he lifted his chin to close the distance between you. The gentle confident stroke of his tongue along your sensitive lips rippled a delectable sensation through you and tightened your nipples into tender peaks.

This couldn’t be real, you thought. Are you that willing to fuck this man right here in front of the whole crew?

‘Ok, that’s good you two. I think I have enough.’

Someone was talking.

It was Jamie.

And just like that, the spell was broken. You scrambled back and off of Henry. Standing up, you quickly dusted off the back of your dress. Henry’s hand had been so hot against your arse that you were sure he had left handprints.

You tried not to look back at the man still lounging on the chair. But you couldn’t help it. One sly glance at him looking positively debauched, told you that it wasn’t over between you. And it was later in the back of the setpiece Bentley that Henry showed you how much more he wanted.

-end

Thank you for reading and please consider reblogging to help me to reach a wider audience :)

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#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #reader insert #man of steel #the witcher #august walker #geralt #sherlock holmes

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 years

Text

Punishment

Summary: The MI6 knew who to send to find August Walker. And August Walker knew exactly what buttons he had to push to get what he wanted. At least he thought so until he woke up chained to his own bed. Naked.

Pairing: August Walker x nameless OFC (you)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fem-Dom vibes, Dom vibes, Bondage, Smut (dirty talk; unprotected sex; facesitting, oral, Anal Play, Anal), getting drugged

A/N: I know I say this often but I think this gets on the top 3 on the filthiest things I ever wrote. Thanks to my obsessive better half @ladyreapermc for being the best beta ever. Love you x

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

The way he laughed while he knew you were sitting at the bar watching him was slowly but surely driving you mad. There he sat, his tie loose, his legs spread while the women around him looked at him like he was the single most tempting specimen that walked the Earth.

You felt a tap on your naked shoulder.

You had bought a new little black dress for this little mission specifically. It didn’t leave much to the imagination but still had enough space that you could wear your gun strapped to your upper thigh.

“Is this seat taken?” You looked over your shoulder, seeing a very attractive man with bright green eyes smile at you. You caught August’s gaze as you turned fully on the seat, your attention shifting towards the stranger.

“Be my guest.” You smiled. A little distraction wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

An hour later the stranger called Jim had to leave. By now you knew he was going through a dirty divorce and just wanted to let loose, but you were here for a mission and couldn’t exactly help. Not that you wanted to.

Finishing your drink, you carefully got off your seat, taking your purse as you turned and walked towards August Walker.

“There she is. My favorite agent.” August smirked as you approached him.

You raised your eyebrow at the women in his arms who shared a look and then got up, leaving without a comment. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, noticing his eyes lingering on your cleavage before he met your gaze. His hair was longer, his signature mustache hidden under the overgrown facial hair.

“You aren’t as hard to find as you think, August.”

“Yet, it took you an entire week to actually find me.” He crooked his eyebrow.

You leaned closer, giving him a good view of your breasts as you picked his drink. His eyes remained on your body as you traced the edge of the glass with a finger before you handed it to him. He let his tongue dart out, wetting his lips before he took the glass, his fingers brushing yours before he brought the tumbler up to his lips, emptying it completely.

“I think I need to remind you of the terms of your deal,” you said, your fingers on his cheek. His eyes darkened, his hand grabbed your wrist guiding your finger into his mouth sucking on it. You breathed in deep, feeling the wetness pooling in between your legs.

“I’d like to see you try, agent.” He grinned.

You tilted your head, your hands now on both of his wide shoulders as you leaned down your lips close to his ear.

“Be in your room in 5 minutes and find out.” You winked at him as you turned around to leave the bar. Looking over your shoulder you could see him checking you out. August Walker was in for a good punishment. And if only he knew the game had already started.

When you let yourself into his room 10 minutes later, August lay passed out on his bed. Grinning to yourself, you set your purse down on the table and put the “Do not Disturb” sign on the door of his hotel room before closing and locking it behind you.

You were just putting the finishing touches to your outfit when you heard the rattle of metal followed by a groan. You turned off the lights in the bathroom and opened the door to walk back into the hotel room.

“Ah! You’re awake.” You grinned as you walked towards the bed. There he was, just how you left him. Naked, already half-hard, and chained to the bed. You did think of using rope at first when you imagined this night but quickly decided against it. A strong man like August needed something stronger. Something… colder.

“It was the drink, wasn’t it?” He asked groaning, rolling his eyes. You didn’t know if he was more furious with you or with himself for getting caught in such a basic trick.

“Of course it was.”

“Great. And what are you planning on doing with me chained to the bed?” He asked, testing the handcuffs connected to a chain.

“Tonight, August Walker, you will learn that you have to follow the rules. If not the one’s from the MI6, then at least mine.”

“Or what?” He crooked his eyebrow.

You smiled at him and opened your bathrobe to reveal what you wore underneath, which wasn’t more than a garter belt, stockings and a cord with the keys to the handcuffs around your neck.

He hissed as he took you in, his wrists fighting against the handcuffs, his muscles flexing. Slowly you let the bathrobe fall to the floor as you moved closer. You got on it, kneeling in between his legs, your hands in his crotch as you took the beauty of him in. Biting your lip of all the things you imagined doing to him, you sighed.

“Or I won’t fuck you.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Like you could say no to my long and thick cock. Look how hard I already am for you.” He flashed you an arrogant grin..

You didn’t have to be told twice, staring down at the hard shaft throbbing right in front of you. The temptation of just sinking around him was strong but you pushed it away, sticking to the plan. You clicked your tongue at him, sitting down in between his legs spreading yours over his.

“Fuck!” He cursed in a low voice since now you wet pussy was in full display but completely out of his reach. He fought against his restraints, his breath picking up speed..

“See Mr. Walker…” You smirked, voice soft and sultry, your hands wandering over your body, ignoring him completely. You pinched your nipple, making yourself gasp, your other hand slowly running down your body letting one finger flick over your clit.

“As much as I would love for you to fuck me senseless like in the past…” You continued to play with your pussy, your hand knowing just what to do to pleasure yourself. “Tonight, you are not in charge. You are going to make me cum over and over again. And maybe if you behave well enough, you get to cum inside of me. Maybe, if you’re a really good boy, I’ll even let you fuck my ass.” You looked at him, seeing sweat form on his forehead as he watched you play with yourself. You whimpered as you pushed two fingers inside while massaging your breast with the other.

“But… I have to be sure if you’ll follow the rules in the future before you get to cum inside of me.” You bit your lip as you began to fuck yourself with your fingers, finding that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

Closing your eyes you forgot about the man in front of you, chasing your orgasm. Moans left your lips and you could hear the handcuffs rattle, his thighs shifting underneath your legs. You ignored him as you felt your orgasm wash over you, his name on your lips.

Panting, you opened your eyes, meeting his dark blue ones.

“You are going to regret this once you unchain me, kitten.” He growled and you grinned wickedly as you crawled over him to straddle his stomach. You pushed your wet fingers in his mouth hearing him moan as he tasted you.

“Who says, I am going to unchain you, August?” You grinned down at him.

“You gonna keep me here as your fuck pet?” He asked, words muffled around your fingers.

“A very nice idea. How about you earn your way to freedom, hm?”

“And how do I do that?”

“What was your record again? 6 times?” You rolled your hips on top of him, drenching his chest hair with your juices. He nodded.

“Then how about this: I’ll unchain you once you make me cum 8 times? And because I’m feeling generous, the one I just had also counts.”

You continued to roll your hips on top of him as he looked up at you.

“Deal.” He grinned with such confidence you almost faltered, but did the best to cover up with a smirk to match his.

“You sure you're up to this, August? Without your magical hands?” You teased, both of your hands on his shoulders, as you rubbed your pussy over his stomach trying to get some friction.

“I think you know my tongue is more than enough.”

“Right. I always wanted to shut you up like this.”

You grinned as you inched forward, your pussy just over his face. You almost screamed in ecstasy when he brought his head up and licked on stripe from back to front, moaning as he tasted you. With one hand on the headboard, the other hand in his curls you let him devour you.

There’s one thing August Walker doesn’t step back from and that is a challenge. After he made you cum for the third time with his tongue, your body was slick with sweat, your chest heaving and your pussy throbbing with overstimulation. All you wanted was for him to fuck you senseless. And he knew it. You got off him, letting yourself fall down beside him as you tried to catch your breath.

“Already tired?” He asked in a mocking tone, despite being slightly out of breath. You turned your head towards him, noticing his face wet with your juices, a shit-eating grin on his swollen lips.

“Just catching my breath, big boy.” You smirked back.

“You know. You could always just give up. Unchain me and I won’t punish you too hard, little kitten.” He said.

“You’re not in charge here, August. I am. Though, I do think you deserve a little reward, don't you?” You asked. He said nothing as you carefully got on your knees, your legs still feeling like jelly and knelt next to his cock.

“I don’t think…” You let one finger run up from his balls to his tip, his skin burning hot and sticky with all the precum that had leaked out. “I have ever seen you this hard.” You looked at him, noticing his clenched jaw as he breathed hard.

“Do you want me to suck your cock, August? Do you want me to gag on your big fat cock?” You asked, leaning down and just kissing the tip. You licked your lips as you straightened up, tasting his precum and moaned pornographically. You didn’t wait for his answer as you parted your lips and took him as deep as you could, hearing him curse. You looked at him as you found a rhythm, your tongue licking the prominent vein on the underside feeling it pulse.

Releasing him with a plop, you closed your fist around him, continuing your torture.

“You wanna cum inside my mouth?” You asked, earning a beast-like growl.

“Once I get free, I’m gonna fill every hole in your body.” He hissed.

“Is that a threat I hear?” You grinned and spat into your hand before you continued to jack him off.

“It’s a promise, kitten.”

You saw his victorious grin a second before you felt his hand on your nape. Alarmed, you reached for the chain around your neck, hand coming up empty as August had already taken them. You had no idea at what point he had managed that and didn’t have much time to think about it as he held your face down and forced his cock in between your lips. He thrust into your mouth, his hand pulling your hair into a ponytail and keeping your head down forcing his cock deeper and deeper making you gag.

“You think you are in charge here, little kitten?” He tugged on your hair, making you move up his body until he could kiss you hard.

“I am in charge of you. I’m in charge of you every second of the day. Even when you’re fucking your dildo in your shower. I always know what you do.” He hissed, looking deep into your eyes.

“I knew you would be here before you even knew it, kitten. Who do you think gave the MI6 the tip of where I was.” He grinned, making you gasp.

“And now quit the bullshit and fuck my cock before I really punish you.” He kissed you again, his teeth nibbling your upper lip.

Straddling his hips, immediately you took him deep inside of you, biting your lip as he settled inside of you perfectly. Like he always did.

“Fucking made for me.” He groaned, slapping your ass hard, as he thrust up into you, watching you like a hawk as he brought his hand up and unlocked the other cuff, releasing his left hand..

“You must have been really desperate for my pussy if you dislocated your own thumb to get out of the handcuffs.” You moaned, grinding on top of him. One of his hands massaged one of your breasts, while his other was on your ass moving your body on top of him.

“I haven’t had a pussy since the last time we fucked.”

“Liar.” You moaned, crying out loud when he slapped your ass hard.

“Do not call me a liar. I never lie.” He growled. You swallowed hard, looking down at him. His beautiful eyes staring back at you. Against your better judgement, you actually believed him.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning down and crossing your arms around his neck as you kissed him. He began to thrust into you, slow and deep both of his hands on your ass, one of his fingers teasing your asshole.

“You really want me to fuck your ass?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“I want you to cum in my ass, August.” You whispered, biting his earlobe.

“You must be really desperate for my cock, huh?” He grinned, thrusting faster, holding you close against him. Your breathing got heavier, the familiar sparks in your lower belly returning.

“I missed you, August.” You whimpered, crying out as he fucked you into your fifth orgasm. He kissed you almost tenderly as his hands pushed your hair out of your face. He looked at you as if he was seeing you for the first time.

“I want you on all fours.” He whispered. Still breathing heavily, you followed his command and weakly got yourself in position and turned your head to watch him.

August rubbed his chafed wrists before popping his thumb back in place like it was nothing, before he set the keys on the bedside table, flashing you a quick smirk.

“I really want to chain you up sometime,” He commented as he pulled a drawer open, fishing something out.

“The last time we did this, I had to carry you to the bathtub.” He said as you watched him stroke himself with a lot of lube, before you felt something cold on your ass. His finger played with your asshole, slowly forcing it in as his other hand played with your pussy.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you pass out under me, kitten.” He chuckled darkly as he shifted behind you, one of his hands on your hip as you felt the tip of his cock.

“Ready or not…” He said before he slowly pushed inside.

Before you met August 6 years ago you weren’t into anything kinky. You were freshly recruited into the MI6 and most of all, a virgin. You fell in love with him. All of him. In all of his wicked ways.

You both groaned loudly when he was fully inside. A sensation you probably would never get used to. And you never wanted to. He played with your clit as he fucked your ass.

“Always so fucking tight and ready for me.” He moaned as he began to thrust faster. You grabbed the bedsheet, meeting his thrusts.

“I want you to come away with me.” He groaned, fucking you harder.

“I want you to leave the shitshow of the MI6 and stay with me.”

He abandoned your clit only to pump two fingers into your pussy, his other hand on your stomach, pulling you with your back against his chest. You were a sobbing mess high on pleasure as you brought one of your hands behind you to his neck, holding onto him.

“Come away with me, kitten.” He whispered against your ear. Adding a third finger as he fingerfucked your pussy. You felt his movements become harder and even faster, finding yourself close to orgasm again.

“Come away with me and help me cleanse this planet.” He moaned against your ear.

Moaning his name you nodded, your other hand finding your clit, screaming when you came hard. You were shaking in his grip, holding on to him as he pushed you down on the matress, fucking you deeper as he finally reached his own orgasm, spilling his seed as deep as possible. You whimpered as he lay on top of you, still hard inside your ass.

“I’ll go with you, August.” You said quietly, still trying to get back to breathing properly.

“I was hoping you would say that.” He kissed you shoulder, pulling out of you and getting off the bed. You heard water running and turned around to look at him coming out of the bathroom, rubbing a washcloth over his cock. Parting your legs as he got back to bed, he settled still hard on top of you. You raised your eyebrow.

“I promised to fill all your holes, didn’t I?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #august walker #august walker x reader #henry cavill #august walker smut #smut #ff #august waker x ofc

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stillebesat · 3 years

Text

Meeting Virgil (5x1) -Third Time

Sanders Shorts: Remy Sanders Sides: Virgil Blurb: A Special Delivery Prequel. -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded. Inspiration: @book-of-charlie asked: What did Virgil mean by “the last 5 times?” Fic Type: STORK!AU, Winged!Remy Chapter Warnings: Implied Neglectful Parents, Implied Miscarriage Taglist in Reblog. To Catch Up: First Time Second Time

Little Lacey was going to change the world. Remy knew it from the moment the baby girl’s eyes had lit up upon seeing him and his wings. From the second she had opened her mouth and let out the most contagious laugh he’d ever heard.

Even now, as he wound his way through the golf course parking lot crowded with stalls and people waiting for the fireworks to start on the hill above them, Lacey drew smiles from everyone standing nearby with that contagious bubbling laughter as she bounced in his arms.

He’d been tempted to put her to sleep when the twin lines of green and purple he’d been following led straight into this noisy place with music blaring, kids screaming, and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy thick in the air. First impressions with new parents hardly went well if the baby was screaming their head off after all, yet Lacey apparently loved the chaos surrounding them. She’d perked right up, her giggles ringing in his ear before he’d even landed.

There was no doubt. Despite her previous parents’ best attempts to treat her like a forgotten dusty doll in a china cabinet, Lacey thrived in having everyone’s attention focused on her. For being in the limelight. Yes. Remy knew she would change the world once she was older if the way everyone cooed -from the lady waiting in line with her son to get their face painted to the burly motorcycle dude that looked like he could tear your head off with his pinky- at her was any indication.

It was attention that Remy wasn’t exactly used to dealing with himself anymore. Usually his S.T.O.R.K. duties took him to places that were...quieter...more…secluded environments. One on Two situations where he could meet the new parents away from watching eyes, give them their new bundle of joy and then take off soon after their bond was established.

“Oh, isn’t she precious!” A grandmother cooed at Lacey, her hands twitching with the obvious old person urge to pinch the baby’s cheeks as she gave Remy a warm smile. “You’re one lucky fella having such a beautiful daughter!”

His stomach did a little uncomfortable flip flop at that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken as a parent, but it always threw him off when people assumed he was capable of such a feat when growing up it had felt like everyone expected him to die before he reached twenty.

According to Larry and Dot, however, despite the years he’d spent ferrying babies around -and getting them to their parents without issue...well, major issues-- he was still quite ‘rough around the edges.’

Ha.

He’d like to see them say that when faced with the burly motorcycle dude two stalls over. He couldn’t be that rough acting anymore.

Probably.

Maybe.

Eh.

Remy shook his head, wings twitching against his back as he grinned at the woman, glad his metallic green eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. “She’s adorable alright, but I’m just watching her for a friend while they grab a bite to eat.” He tilted his head to the twin lines that led towards the other side of the food stalls beyond the lady as Lacey giggled in his ear, nuzzling her head into his shoulder.

The words flowed easily enough off his tongue, despite the bitter taste they left. Lying wasn’t really a thing with S.T.O.R.K.s hence his...technical truth. He was watching Lacey, though friend might be a bit strong of a word when he’d never met the parents before. But he was planning to grab some of those delectable chicken strips he could smell afterwards. So yah...basically the truth.

He was good at that.

Larry and Dot would visibly roll their eyes but quietly smile their approval at his ability to find and exploit loopholes.

The grandmother’s eyes grew softer as Lacey wiggled, reaching fingers grabbing onto the feathers her little hands could reach. “How sweet.” She murmured, placing a hand over her heart.

Did she mean Lacey or the fact Remy was ‘watching’ her? He sighed internally, keeping the smile in place with effort. He’d never been the greatest at interacting with old people who would ‘dear me’ and ‘oh my’ him to death if he accidentally slipped and swore in front of them.

“Mhmmm, if you’ll excuse me.” He gave her a nod, wings pressing harder against his back as he edged around her, waving one hand over his head like he was acknowledging someone in the distance and quickly vanished into the crowd, following the green and purple ribbons that would lead him to Lacey’s future family.

Still both glowing with the exact same shade of brightness. Still unknown just which one would end up with little Lacey’s shining personality in their lives.

Well. He paused as the two colored ribbons finally diverged. The Purple leading to the right to where the sun had just set. Green leading to the left to where hundreds of people were sitting, waiting for the show in the sky.

Both options meant still more people. But with the brightness being so close, he’d have to scope out both possibilities first before making a decision.

He exhaled, trying to remain relaxed as the crowd brushed by him, his wings trembling against his back. It wasn’t like anyone could see his wings so he had nothing to fear about being mobbed for his feathers. But still. The constant press of people unknowingly touching them had him on edge.

“Purple first.” He mumbled, adjusting his grip on Lacey as she sat back up, clapping her hands together with a squeal as he moved them closer to a brightly colored bouncy house. It wasn’t like the Edgelord would be here among the Good Old Rocky Mountains when he lived on the opposite side of the country, but it would be best to confirm that first.

With how quickly ‘Virge’ had vanished that night in the woods, it wouldn’t surprise him if the poor guy was still lost in the backwaters of Virginia.

No. Probably not. He seemed resourceful enough...unless he’d gotten himself captured by a Mothman colony--did they have colonies or were they more of a solitary creat--

Remy unexpectedly broke through the crowd, coming out where a line of porta-potties stood like quiet stinky sentinels in the fading light.

And there, right where the purple line ended, stood Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad himself in all his gothic glory. Wearing a black tank top that showed off his arms, artistically torn jeans, and purple dyed hair falling into his storm colored eyes.

Remy’s heart skipped a beat as he stumbled to a stop, rapidly blinking to clear his vision of this impossible mirage. “No. Fu--Freaking. Way.” He breathed, staring at Virge just as the guy reached down and picked up a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, easily balancing her on his hip like he’d done this exact action multiple times before, speaking softly to her as he brushed the tears from her wet cheeks with his thumb.

Remy swallowed, bouncing Lacey as she wiggled in his grip. Lost maybe? Had to be. He couldn’t see the bonding lines between the two of them for all that Virge looked like a Father patiently calming his distressed child.

Of course, that didn’t rule out the possibility that she was his cousin, or even a niece or some kid of a friend. He would need to get closer to the girl to know for sure if there was any connection between the two.

Remy shrugged, drawing in a steadying breath. Well. Better make his move now rather than later. “Well, Laceyloo” He said, giving the girl a wink as he moved forward. “Ready to try your luck with our resident Emo?”

Didn’t the saying go that the ‘third time's the charm’ or something? With how adorably cute she was...and with how comfortable Virge seemed with this other little girl, perhaps Lacey’s laughter would be the key to convincing Dark and Brooding to accept his obviously destined role as a Father.

One could hope.

“Hey Stranger.” He called, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as the Edgelord jumped like he’d just been electrocuted, causing the little girl to cry out and cling to him as stormy grey eyes met Remy’s metallic green ones.

Virge glowered at him even as his hands moved to soothe the girl, low words leaving his lips as she buried her head against his chest, his stormy eyes only softening as Lacey sat upright in Remy’s arms and gave him a tiny wave of her hand and a delighted giggle.

“Hey.” He said, still focused on Lacey, a myriad of conflicting expressions crossing his face.

Hook.

Remy moved a deliberately casual step closer, wings fluttering with anticipation. “Fancy meeting you here.” He made a show of looking around. “Does Mothman usually attend this sort of thing?”

Virge rolled his eyes, glancing at the girl in his arms before focusing back on Remy. “Slenderman actually.”

A what? Remy paused, glancing at the sniffling girl with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” She didn’t look like a...whatever a Slenderman was.

Another thing he’d have to go look up if these encounters with V-man were gonna continue and he kept insisting on referencing random fantasy cryptid creatures that Remy had barely heard of.

That way he would be more prepared next time.

If there was a next time.

If Lacey failed to work her magic.

Which she wouldn’t.

Because she was Lacey the Amazing and this was their lucky third encounter. So of course he wouldn’t be seeing his stubborn Emo Nightmare again.

Unfortunately.

Virge snorted. “No. She wouldn’t be considered one if I was. Lily here has lost her parents. I’m helping her find them. Right Lily?”

The child glanced up, face tear-streaked, bright brown eyes shimmering with more tears waiting to fall. “They’re gone.” She whimpered.

“And we’ll find them.” Virge assured, voice going soft. “Remember? You were telling me what your Mommy was wearing. A pretty pearl necklace right? Her favorite that you can’t yet wear?”

She sniffled, nodding. “Yah.”

Remy shook his head. Well that was a helpful description.

Not.

Still. Edgelord had shown more patience with the crying kid than most strangers would in this sort of situation. “A necklace.” He repeated. “Like you’ll be able to see that in the dark.”

Virge rolled his eyes. “It’s more help than you’re currently being, Eagle One. Plus I am listening for anyone calling her name.”

“Mhmm in this crowd? The parents would need to scream quite loud.” He took another step closer, smiling as Lily and Lacey made eye contact, the baby in his arms wiggling as Lily straightened with a “Hi you!” as she waved at Lacey. “No, It sounds like you need help from an Expert.” He said, spreading out his wings, flapping them once.

A bad decision really with how many people were around that he could have hit, though the surprised sound Virge made as he lifted a hand, taking an automatic step closer as his grey eyes darted to the people continuing by made it well worth it.

He froze as Lacey laughed, making grabby hands at his wings and Lily gasped a soft “Angel?” leaving her lips, her brown eyes growing bright with awe.

A S.T.O.R.K. But he wouldn’t begrudge the child for her confusion. Remy nodded to Lily, bouncing Lacey in his arms. “I’m here to help you Lils. We’ll find your parents.”

This close he could see easily her parent line--the same Green one he’d been following earlier ironically enough, because of course it would be the same fu-freaking line he’d followed all the way here, winding its way upwind of the porta-potties to a low hill with a couple shade trees at the top. Well, if it didn’t work out with Mr. Reluctant here, at least it appeared Lily already liked her potential new baby sister if their shared giggles and fascination with his wings was anything to go by.

Virge stared beyond Remy, watching the crowd, growing more tense the longer everyone else continued walking by without reacting. “They can’t--” He whispered.

“See them? No.” Remy folded his wings, unwilling to keep them open and exposed around so many individuals now that he’d made his point. “Betcha that’s why people don’t usually see your Mothman either.” Probably. It had to be a magic related thing. Or belief thing. A blending ability? Were S.T.O.R.K.s like Mothmen? Bigfoot? Vampi--oh, yah no….his wings pressed against his back. If it turned out Vampires and Werewolves and Mothmen were actually real only then would he have a mental breakdown over maybe being in the same category as mythical creatures. Right now. He had to focus. Find Lily’s parents. Give Lacey to the Edgelord and walla. Mission accomplished.

Virge slowly shook his head, shifting Lily against his side before he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, there's been enough credible sightings of Mothmen by people to discount that theory.” He said, shrugging one shoulder. “It may explain why, when people talk about their encounters with Angels, that they rarely mention them with wings though.”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Not an Angel, V-man. I already told you. I’m a--”

“Stork. Yes. But are you sure that’s not a type of Angel?” He asked, eyes gleaming in the faint light given by the lamp posts. “You bring babies to parents who want children right? You’re willing to help me find this girl’s parents. Therefore a Stork could be a subset of Guardian Angels.”

Huh.

“...You been thinking on this alot?” Remy asked faintly.

Which One. It shouldn’t thrill him that Gothica incarnate was thinking about him. And Two. Questioning his so-called ‘Angelhood’ was definitely not going to keep him up all night regardless of how this encounter ended. An Angel? HIM?! Ha. Larry and Dot would have a conniption that their troubled ward was considered some sort of goodie two shoes Guardian Angel.

Maybe.

Else Larry would tear up, crush him in a hug, and start blubbering Dadisms of ‘being so proud’ and Dot would pat him firmly on the back and say “about time.” It was hard to tell which they’d go most days.

Remy shook his head, raising a finger and jabbing it in Edgelord’s direction. “You.” He said. “Are distracting me from helping Lily” and Lacey “find her parents. Shame. On. You.” He spread a wing towards the girl in Virge’s arms. She immediately perked up, a shy smile on her lips as she reached out to touch his feathers.

Laughter danced in Virge’s eyes as tilted his head, purple tipped bangs falling in front of them, shadowing their grey color further as he maintained eye contact, not at all distracted by the wing inches from his arm. “Oh? Then tell me, O Mighty Stork, how can you find her parents?”

“Same way I keep finding you.” Remy said with a smirk, heart fluttering in anticipation as Popsicle blanched. So close. “Not that you can see it.” He pointed to the ground where the purple ribbon still shown between Virge and Lacey and then over to the green one that also streaked from her to run parallel to Lily’s line that would lead them to her parents. “But all children have a connection between them and their parents or guardians that we,” he gestured to himself, “can see.”

Virge licked his lips, glancing to Lacey, then to the ground, his arm tightening protectively around Lily. “And Lily’s parents are?”

“Right up that hill.” He said without hesitation, pointing to where the green line led. “I can’t see who it ends at, but they are over there. I can easily reunite Lily with them, if you don’t mind holding little Lacey here for me in the meantime.” He said, his wings rising and mantling around them to block Virge’s view of anyone else as he held out the baby for him to take.

Lacey automatically reached out to her potential new Dad, making grabby hands along with a soft cooing sound demanding to be held.

Line.

Virge reached out, arm already curving to take the baby from him, only to hesitate at the last second, grey eyes flickering with shadows as he met Remy’s green ones. “That first time. When you broke into my place. You said…” He licked his lips, hand trembling as he pulled it back to hold onto Lily. “I would only have to ‘hold her and see.’ What did you mean by that?”

….Smart Fish.

Remy exhaled, shaking his head. Sinker totally sunk. Suspicious Nancy here just had to remember some off hand comment he’d made ages ago and question it.

It was times like this that he wished he could Lie to potential parents. It would make his job so much easier. But at the same time, he knew all too well that starting out a budding connection with lies would mean a crumbling family foundation later on. Best to stick to the truth to give the child the best connection with their new parents from the start.

Remy pulled Lacey back into a more steady position against his chest, soothing her disgruntled sounds as she still tried to reach out to the Emo--or maybe it was Lily she was reaching for? The other little girl was bouncing in Virge’s arms hard enough to be a workout as she stretched towards Remy.

Probably a good idea to not have those two touch just yet. He wanted to try and make the bond with Virge work first before allowing Lacey to complete the bond with Lily’s family. He shifted to keep the two out of reach from each other before speaking to Virge. “A parental bond is only established with a child in the custody of a S.T.O.R.K. when said child is touched or held by the new parent. It’s a love at first contact sort of thing.” He said, not at all surprised when the reluctant Emo took two quick steps back away from him.

Stubborn. Why was he so stubborn about this?! Shouldn’t him showing up Three Fuc--Freaking times be clear enough indication that PopStar here was meant to be a Father?!

“So~. If I were to hold Lacey for you while you helped Lily--’” Virge asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I would have killed two birds with one stone.” He said simply. “Lily would return to her parents and Lacey here would have bonded with you and you’d be her new Dad.”

Virge growled at that, eyes flashing as his shoulders hunched high enough to nearly touch his ears. “I told you before that I’m not a good Dad.” He hissed. “And yet you just tried to trick me into--”

Well most people weren’t this stupidly resistant to becoming a parent.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Ah Huh. For some reason, LolliPop.” He gestured to Lily still comfortably resting in his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Virgil bared his teeth, arms tightening protectively around the girl. “This is different. She’s lost! I’m not going to leave her to wander around here all alone!”

“And Lacey is different how?” Remy retorted. “She is lost, looking for a new Dad, and walla you’re here to save the bloody day!”

Virgil shook his head, taking two more steps back, nearly hitting the nearest porta-pottie. “NO.”

And just like that the Purple line fizzled, growing hazy to Remy’s sight as the Green line took on an even brighter glow.

Remy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jiminy Crickets! And he’d had such high hopes that Lacey would be the breakthrough to Virge’s reluctance in joining the Fatherhood Club. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, you fuc--freaking scaredy cat!” Not that he had any personal experience in it, but he’d seen it. Seen how happy the men were to become fathers once the bond was established. “I don’t make mistakes in this. You’d be an excellent Dad no matter your doubts. I wouldn’t be here talking to you otherwise!”

“You don’t know that!!” Virgil retorted, a tint of panic to his voice. “You can’t! How can I believe some guy showing up with a random baby in his arms--you could have kidnapped her for all I--”

“You’ve seen my wings.” Remy interrupted, spreading them out and flapping them for emphasis. “Obviously I’m not exactly some guy. I don’t kidnap babies. I rescue them from bad situations and take them to better ones. That’s what a S.T.O.R.K. does!”

“I can’t--”

“You’ll have to at some point.” Remy snapped. “I’m going to keep coming to you until you do. You do realize that right? You’re marked for Fatherhood and if it’s not me that can get that through your thick skull it will be a different S.T.O.R.K. who does.”

Virge violently shook his head. “No. I’m not--”

“A good Dad. I know. I’ve heard.” Remy rolled his eyes, snapping his wings shut as he turned away to follow the green line, adjusting as Lacey twisted in his arms trying to look behind them. “I still don’t believe you.” But it was obvious by how the purple line had faded to nearly nothing that Lacey wouldn’t end up as the Edgelord’s kid.

A pity. The dude could use some serious laughter in his life. Bright and bubbly like little Lacey’s. Too bad he was apparently immune to her charm.

“...Where are you going?”

Remy fought back the urge to snarl. “To take Lacey here to her next best option, which funnily enough is Lily’s parents so are you coming with me to reunite them or not?” At least he already knew that Lily would get along with Lacey. One hurdle gone in that regard.

Virge made a noise of surprise. “They lost their child and you’re taking another to them---”

“Mistakes happen.” Remy said shortly, glancing over his shoulder. “No one can be the perfect parent 24/7. It’s impossible. You get distracted at the wrong moment and walla your child has slipped away. Or you think someone else is watching them while they think you’re watching them and no one questions why they haven’t seen the kid recently. it---her parent line is still bright, Virge.” He looked away as Mr. Reluctant caught up and fell in step with him. “They aren’t horrible bad people just because they lost her tonight. They love her. No doubt about it.”

And if Cynical Gothica was so concerned about them and their parenting skills then he should have said YES to being the Dad to Lacey before his purple line had fizzled out!

Virge ducked his head, shoulders hunching as he brushed Lily’s hair out of her eyes. “...Okay.” He mumbled a dozen steps later. “But what if they--they loved--love her, but…but did something---what if something happened to hurt her? Badly? And they couldn’t--what if it’s not fix--fixable? What then? Would you really--”

Remy stopped just short of cresting the hill, wings prickling, goosebumps on his arms sending a chill through him as he turned back to Virge. This. He could sense. Was important.

“Mistakes happen, V.” He repeated in a softer tone. “Whatever mistake you think you’ve made that you think disqualifies you from ever becoming a Father…” He stretched out a wing, brushing the Emo’s cheek, causing him to look up, eyes so soft and vulnerable that it made Remy’s chest ache. “It’s not an unforgivable one. Again. I wouldn’t be here if it were.”

People changed. People could become better than they were. Whatever had happened in the Edgelord’s past wasn’t a deal breaker to the S.T.O.R.K.s. The three times he’d shown up in his presence had to be some sort of proof. He’d never heard of someone refusing parenthood before, but the fact that Remy kept returning, the fact that Virge kept coming up as an option in the first place, had to mean something.

V bit his lip, eyes troubled as he looked to Lacey then back to Remy, the purple ribbon connecting the two flickering like a sputtering candle. “I’m not--” He whispered.

Remy let out a slow breath, well aware that his wing was still touching his cheek, but unwilling to pull away just yet. “It’s something to think on, Virge O’Doom.” He said, voice still soft. “Once is a Chance, Twice a Coincidence, Thrice? It’s a Pattern. It’s just a matter of deciding if you’re ready when I come back a Fourth time.”

As much as he wanted to convince him and make it to work between Lacey and the Emo...the line had already fuzzed once. He didn’t want Virge to have any doubts in this.

“LILY?!” A shrill woman’s voice suddenly rang through the air, breaking the tension between them like a snapped wire. “LILY WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“LILYLOO?” A man called out, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Lily?! Has anyone seen my daughter?!”

Remy smirked, pulling his wing back and raising an eyebrow to Virge as Lily jerked upright at her name, nearly pulling free from his grip in the process. “See? Not bad parents.”

Virge drew in a visibly shaky breath, his arms tightening around the little girl. “Right.”

“MOMMY!” Lily cried, wiggling to get free. “DADDY!”

“We got her!” Remy called, using his wing to push Mr. Reluctant forward up the hill, pitching his voice so it would carry to the frantic parents. “Over here!” He raised his free hand, waving to draw their attention as he moved his other wing to cover Lacey, hiding her from their view for now.

“Oh, Lily!” Her mother rushed forward wild curly hair streaming behind her like a banner, pulling her free from Virge’s grip with little effort to smother her with kisses. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Lily wrapped her arms around her Mother, burying her head against her chest. “Sorry Momma,” She whimpered.

“Where was she?” Her father asked, hovering anxiously behind his wife. His fingers running through his daughter’s hair.

“By the bathrooms.” Virge said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “She was crying, so we---” He gestured to Remy and himself. “Were helping her find you.”

We? Nope nope. “Pretty sure that was all you.” Remy muttered under his breath, shifting as Lacey wiggled in his grip, trying to peer out from around his wing. He would have never been aware of the girl’s situation if Castlevania hadn’t taken the initiative. His job usually involved helping unloved kids. Not loved ones. Even if they were lost.

“Lily,” Her mother scolded in a soft tone, lifting up her chin. “You know you need one of us to go with you.”

The girl sniffed, eyes welling with tears. “But I’m a big girl! I can go by myself! I’m no baby.”

Grief flashed across the Mom’s face, one hand dropping to her stomach before quickly rising back to cradle the back of Lily’s head.

Ah. Remy straightened, light green dust swirling at his fingertips as recognition flashed through him. He’d seen that particular look hundreds of times before from mothers who’d lost a babe in the womb. He’d bet his sunglasses that the baby would have been the same age as little Lacey here had they survived to full term, hence why the line was so bright. Lacey could easily slip into the family like she’d always been a part of them.

“That may be.” Her husband said, taking the opportunity to pull Lily into his arms, squeezing her tight as he gave his wife a concerned look, his own eyes showing a hint of grief as well. “But you know how your mother worries about you.”

“So much, baby girl. So much. If I lost you too-” Her voice hitched as she abruptly cut off, bowing her head, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“But you didn’t.” Remy said soothingly as he moved closer to the family, fingers of his free hand twisting to scatter green dust around them so that any nosy viewers would stop paying attention now that the little family reunion was complete. “Everyone is safe and sound. No harm done.” He pulled back his wing back to reveal baby Lacey, purposely brushing his feathers along her neck, causing her to break into soft laughter, twisting in his arms from the tickling sensation.

The Mother looked up at the sound, mouth dropping open. “Oh.” She breathed, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes shimmering as she stared at Lacey. “She’s--”

“Cute right?” Remy asked, holding her out in an unspoken invitation to hold her.

Unlike Virge, the Scrooge of Fatherhood, hovering beside him, she didn’t hesitate. She reached out to gently take Lacey into her arms, a hidden weight vanishing from her shoulders as Lacey giggled, nuzzling her face against the Mother’s neck, tiny fingers gripping onto her shirt.

“She’s absolutely precious.” She murmured, pressing a kiss into her thick hair. “What’s her name?”

“Lacey.” Remy said simply, the tip of his wing stretching out to push the Father and Lily closer to them.

“Lacey.” The Father repeated, moving to her side, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his wife slowly rock the baby back and forth. “An L name.” He reached out, running a hand down Lacey’s back, causing the green line in Remy’s sight to flash twice indicating the parental bond had been accepted. “Just like Lily’s.”

Perfect. Remy exhaled, snapping out his wing to block Virge just as he tried to interrupt the moment.

Idiot.

Remy grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away as his wings fluttered, sending more light green sparks swirling away to settle around the newly expanded family, ensuring that Lacey would be able to bond with them in peace without further interruption.

Virge struggled, twisting in Remy’s grip, unable to break free as the first set of fireworks burst in the sky overhead. “That’s it?! You can’t seriously just--”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Can. Did. Bought the T-Shirt.” Or food. Could he still get his chicken strips if the fireworks had already started? Probably not. That was disappointing.

“Seriously?! You can’t just drop off a baby and leave!”

Funny. Remy pulled them to a stop at the bottom of the hill, mantling his wings so that Virge stood in his shadow. “I’m a S.T.O.R.K., Grimm Reaper. You do remember what that means right? Leaving babies on doorsteps is kinda the whole jig.”

Virge bristled, not at all intimidated. “But you just left her!”

Must be all those Mothman encounters. Remy crossed his arms. “In good hands, Virgeroo. Not all parents need me to stick around once I give them a child.” Thankfully. He hated dealing with the ones who had a million and six impossible questions they wanted answered. But he wasn’t actually going to leave little Lacey there just like that. What sort of S.T.O.R.K. would he be to literally just dump a child in a lady’s arms and leave?

He’d double back around to check in once he was sure Virge wouldn’t go try to find them and ruin everything.

“But!”

“No.”

EmoDramatic threw up his hands. “How will they explain this though? Going to a fireworks show with one child and coming home with two!”

Remy spread his arms, wiggling his fingers. “Maaagiic~.” He smirked, snapping his wings shut. “They can explain it however they want.” The bond would ensure that whatever reason they gave for suddenly having another child, it would be believed by those who heard it. “It’s not your concern.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing past him.

Not until Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad accepted his fate at least. And who knew when that would happen. Would his curiosity help spur him into taking that final step?

Virge whirled with him, fingers brushing his wing before landing on his arm, sending a shiver down Remy’s spine. “I don’t understand.”

“And you won’t, LolliPop.” Remy shrugged free from his grip, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Not until you say yes to Dadhood. That’s another thing you can think on until I see you next.” He gave his Edgelord a two fingered salute as he jumped into the air, shimmering dust whirling around him helping him to vanish from view as a series of green and purple fireworks exploded overhead.

To Be Continued.

#Meeting Virgil #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #STORK AU #Remy #Virgil Sanders #Sleep #Anxiety #implied neglectful parents tw #implied miscarriage tw

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A Playful Family

OTP Challenge 10/02/2020

Pairing: Thor x Reader Word Count: 2,003

Warnings: Adult themes, language, LOTS of more fluff, sexy talk

A/N: This is for @thefanficfaerie ‘s OTP Challenge. I’m really enjoying these! Writing these out and just getting them out right away without worrying too much about plot. Just character stories with a family I already love. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“NO!” Thor shouts, nearly pushing your heart to stopping as he jumps towards you from the stairs.

You jump and gasp, pressing your hand against your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“Thor, what the fu-?”

“Ah-ah!” Thor chastises you, frowning. “Little ears abound, my sweetest, beautiful, loving, and most of all forgiving wife.”

He closes the distance between you, putting his hands on your hips and pulling you against his chest.

“What did you do?” You ask him, suspicious but he chuckles and kisses you, bring both hands up to hold your head still as he does.

His kiss is sweet and warm, a fluttering of his lips prompts yours open and he tastes you, guiding your head to the right as his own goes left and he wraps his arms around you to support your weight as he dips you to the side and very nearly sweeps you off your feet.

Your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline as your arms go limp and you drop your sewing bag. Without its weight, you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck loosely as Thor kisses all of your senses away.

He draws his tongue out slowly, letting it trace the center part of your upper lip as he stands you upright again. When you’re straight he gives you one final peck.

You’re not unaware of the fact that you’re standing there with your arms around him, lips still puckered, and your eyes shut as your now foggy mind begins to clear.

Holy fuck, this man can kiss.

“Now I know you did something.” You mumble.

Thor laughs but reaches down to take your bag and hurries around to hang it in its spot by the door. Your little bungalow, gifted by Tony when Thor had left you pregnant—though in his defense he didn’t know you were pregnant when he left you—hasn’t changed much. There are new additions to your walls and tables. New pictures with Thor and Rosie and Ben looking bigger and happier with his sister and his daddy at his side.

Your little kitchen with it’s round table is more scuffed than before with Thor here to add his own rough touch to it every now and then. Ben’s booster seat is gone as he’s grown enough to sit without one, but Rosie’s highchair sits among the other three, pink and yellow and green. And all throughout an array of pumpkins, both plaster and plastic, Rosie’s color changing ones on the island counter by the jar of Splenda packets.

Ben’s spoopy mirrors are hung upstairs along the hallway, wrapped in pulled cotton spiderwebs.

“I have done nothing. That is to say, nothing worth you getting angry at me over.” Thor corrects himself when you look skeptical. “May I ask a favor?”

With your arms hanging at your side, your coat still on, Thor slides behind you and helps you take it off. “Depends on the favor.”

Thor nods, moving to stand before you as he folds your jacket neatly and works out the creases you’ve made throughout the day. “What if I told you it was more a favor for Ben, than for me? Would that make you more amenable?”

You glare at him, reaching down with his hands nice and busy, and slide it far back enough that you can reach his butt and give it a pinch.

He jumps, “Hey!”

“You using our son to get me to agree to play your sick games?” You accuse.

Thor smiles slowly, softly, and the look in his eyes drives all teasing from you and makes your stomach flip. How can he look at you like that? How can he mean it? After everything you two have been through to get to this happy place—this happy home—you still can’t believe that Thor picked you.

“Only if it works.” He admits.

“Fine.” You sigh.

Thor smiles more widely then moves around you to hang your coat.

His heat suddenly wraps around you from behind, his hands tracing all the way down to your wrists then the backs of your hands which he cups gently, taking hold of them as he presses himself against you.

You can feel his pelvis pressed against your bottom, the subtle rubbing he’s teasing you with probably to punish you for the pinch to his butt.

When he speaks, the heat of his breath wafts along your ear and neck, chills erupting along your skin as your heart begins to pound and your panties become suddenly soaked.

“Close your eyes.” He whispers, voice so deep you can feel it in your hoo-haw.

“Thor-” You plead, hating him every bit for torturing you.

He leans a little further forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Please?”

You sigh but do as he wishes, shutting your eyes tight.

He takes hold of your head again, tilting it back and sideways until your lips meet his and he gives you another world melting kiss that leaves you breathless and hungry for more.

“I’ll be right back.” He tells you, then abandons you and what sounds like sprinting up the stairs.

“You’re gonna break the house!” You call to him, but he doesn’t reply.

A few minutes pass and your patience grows thin. You open your eyes and look up at the second floor landing but find it empty.

“Thor? How much longer?!”

“Do you have your eyes shut?!” Thor booms down the stairs.

You sigh, shaking your head as you turn slowly and press your hands over your eyes. With a smile you wait, your mind racing with all the possible surprises Thor and Ben might have cooked up in your absence.

“Okay! They’re shut.”

You try not to turn instantly when you hear Thor’s footsteps coming down the stairs accompanied by the sound of much smaller feet at his side.

You can hear Ben’s quiet giggle, his voice a little hiss. “Mommy will wuv it, wight daddy?”

“She’ll love it.” Thor whispers back and your heart could explode with the love you have for your boys.

They stop walking and a moment passes before Thor clears his throat. “Okay, you can look now.”

You turn, much too eager to see what they’ve been doing to take it slow and you very nearly fall to your knees at the sight of them.

All three of them, Thor, Ben at his side, and Rosie kicking and slapping her hands against Thor’s chest in excitement are dressed in footie pajamas.

Thor’s are black, the outline of bones along every inch of it making him look like a walking skeleton. Ben’s a little scarecrow with brown shoes, green pants with sewn in patches, a checkered red and yellow shirt with a patched up brown vest. Just above where the shoes end, where his pants end, and where his shirt meets his neck and wrists are tufts of soft stringy sun colored threads and fabric to make it look as if he is indeed fill with hay.

In Thor’s arms, Rosie’s own onesie is black on the top with what looks like the outline of what should be a corset that runs into the skirt of her pajamas stitched into the onesie, and then her legs are purple and green, made to look like a witch’s socks.

“Oh my goodness!” You gasp, genuinely pleased by the sight, downright tickled by how adorable your babies look but you play up the reaction for the benefit of your little ones.

Ben giggles, jumping once but remembers the rule about jumping in the house and stops immediately.

“You wike it, mommy?” Ben asks, clinging to Thor’s free hand tightly.

“I love it, sweet pea. Oh you all look so amazing! Come here, come give me a hug!” You drop to your knees and open your arms for him and he flies right for you, clinging tight when he’s in your arms.

“Surprise!” Thor exclaims, grabbing Rosie’s hand and shaking her little fist in celebration, then speaks for her. “Surprise, momma!”

“My Rosie, look at her, she looks so dang cute, Thor! Where did you find these?” You let Ben pull away from you as he runs into the living room, excited and eager to expend the extra energy that this little show has given him.

“At the shop, when we went to buy the decorations. I have yours upstairs. Yours is all white, with a shocked ghost face on it. Kinda looks like you did when I startled you.” He chuckles, teasing you heartlessly.

“Jerk.” You laugh, getting up and reaching for Rosie. She throws herself at you and you smother her cheek with kisses as Thor marches into the living room after Ben.

“Alright, son, we’ve shown your mother the pajamas. It’s time for bed.”

Ben gives a small defiant whine but then struts to the stairs and with lead in his feet and a pout on his lips, he walks up the stairs with Thor trailing behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you really trying it on?” Thor calls from the room, waiting for you to make your appearance in your Halloween themed PJs.

“Of course. I need you to see me in it.” You tell him, wicked and knowing as to what you’re about to do.

He deserves it. He really deserves it after what he pulled downstairs.

“You’re not looking right?” You check, waiting with your hand on the door to your bathroom.

You’d left him sitting on his side of the bed, facing the large glass sliding doors that lead to the tiny balcony attached to your room. He’d already drawn the curtains thankfully.

“No. I’m not looking. I won’t cheat.” He promises and you believe him.

“Okay, here I come!” You announce then pull the door open and step out into your room.

He’s really still sitting facing the doors.

“What do you think?” You ask him and watch him lift his left leg onto the bed to traverse and turn towards you as best he can.

He might have been expecting the ghost pajamas but what you give him instead is soft gray baby doll lingerie set, with lace that looks like twisting dead tree branches along the top of your bust. The V neck ends between your breasts where the clasp holds the skimpy nightie shut. The layers of thin sheer fabric flow out at uneven lengths but hide just enough of the matching gray panties to tempt and give tantalizing sneaky peeks.

Thor’s jaw drops. He freezes. His eyes devour you from head to toe, but he doesn’t speak as you give him one quick spin that gives him a generous amount of you to ogle, the stop and pretend to only just remember the finishing touch.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You move around the bed towards your small vanity by the sliding doors and reach for the headband with small black horns.

You slide them onto your head and turn back to Thor, smiling when you see that his gaze has followed you from one side of the room to the other.

“Well? What do you think?” You give him another spin then sigh. “Maybe I should just go put on the ghost?”

You pretend to think about it.

“Yeah, I think the ghost would be better. Right?” You nod and make to move back around the bed to the bathroom but Thor’s arm shoots out at you like a cobra and with an easy pull he’s got you falling onto the bed on your back, bouncing as you laugh.

“Woah,” You laugh again. “Okay, maybe I’ll keep this one on then.”

“No.” Thor shakes his head, reaching down between your knees to trace his hot calloused fingers along the soft flesh of your inner thighs. “No, I think you should take it off.”

His hands makes you breathless and as his fingers find the elastic edge of your underwear, you gasp, and he swallows hard.

“Here, let me help you.”

#thor x reader #daddy!thor x reader #otp challenge #spooktacular halloween #to be seen #thor odinson x reader #thor x reader fanfiction #halloween fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #shreddedparchment

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bolontiku · 4 years

Text

“Metal”

Avengers AU - Chapter 2

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, OFC!McKenna Hawkeye

Word Count: 1590

A/N: I pretend I know things about electronics or robotics, if I got anything wrong remember I did my best lol

WARNINGS:

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

Like what I write? ☕ café

Steve was surprised to find out it was plain old metal. A type of stainless steel, though McKenna boasted about the titanium alloy she had through her hip as she pounded on it with a huge grin.

“McKenna!” Tony growled, “I just put that in last time you were here!”

“And it survived this last fiasco, so that is saying something! Can we leave reviews for the doctors out there that may need it? Is there a medical yelp review?”

Tony paused looking up at her, mouth opening and shutting as she lifted her phone up. “FRIDAY? Dear? Can you get that set up? I don’t think that's a thing.”

“Yes sir.” the AI answered with what sounded like a giggle.

“McKenna leave my AI alone and stop corrupting her, you can have the captain to corrupt.”

Steve looked at Tony surprised, “huh?”

She grinned, “usually I have the boys around to fuck with and I am not corrupting her, expanding her capacity-”

“Shut it, last time I couldn’t get Shania Twain out of her system for three weeks straight because of you!”

McKenna clapped her hands together in glee, “good girl Friday!” she nearly hopped in place till Tony placed a hand on her hip and glared.

Steve moved closer when she flopped onto her back, knowing she was frustrated at sitting still for so long. He could easily see her pacing or rolling back and forth on her feet. She spoke with her hands a lot, toyed with anything within reach often earning a growl or two from Tony.

He brought her a pad of paper after the second day when she had begun doodling on herself and then him when she ran out of space. All the while talking.

The fourth day he found her and Tony yelling at each other, McKenna throwing the various tools he had left within reach at him. Both near snarling.

Steve dragged Tony away to find out the argument had started with Tony scolding her about not taking care of herself better. Where was her team? They hadn’t come to visit her once since she’d been there.

Steve liked the way Tony growled, obviously offended that she was here alone. That she had damaged herself to make sure they were safe and they couldn’t even call?

What a softie.

DUMM-E chirruped, sliding over with an empty coffee mug.

Tony’s face softened and he caught the mug as it slipped out of the grippers. A little laugh escaping him.

“Can you stay with her? I know a place… she likes donuts… I uh..”

Steve waved him off, “pretty sure she’s ready to bolt, so you need some air as well. Get a nap in and order the donuts to be delivered.”

Tony nodded, “yeah, good idea…” he murmured, leaving while rubbing the base of his neck.

Steve stepped back into the lab, hands held up.

“If he thinks-”

“I sent him to get some sleep, you two have been cooped up in here for too long.”

“What are you doing?!” she asked as he swept her up.

“Breaking the rules.”

She stared up at him with those honey brown eyes, arms wrapping around his neck as he strode from the lab. She kept silent as he took her through the halls and poked his head into a door, grinning at her as he carried her carefully.

“This place is a kinda get away, Loki likes quiet places to read, pretty sure you could steal his heart if you wanted.”

“Mmm, steal the heart of a god? Don’t tempt me.”

“And let you slip out of my hands? No ma’am.”

She blushed as he made his way to where they could sit, the room was filled with books and plenty of green plants, the room itself was cool and she felt her heart lift. “Thank you.”

Steve watched as she settled in his lap, eyes closing in relief. He hummed in answer, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

McKenna Hawkeye was something else, her fiery spirit made him want to say things he ought not say so quickly. She would probably laugh and wave him off, but he wanted to stay by her side while he could.

***

By the fifth day Steve had come to look forward to going to Tony's floors and chatting with McKenna. She was a ceaseless flirt, something he enjoyed, and was beyond funny. Although Tony groaned at her dad jokes and the ones that he claimed were just completely unfunny. Steve found he rather liked the filthy jokes she shared with him and her innuendo which both Tony and she threw back at the other easily.

She told him about growing up in the southern states, how her dad took her gator hunting with crossbows when she was twelve, her uncle took her flying over the Everglades at sunset.

"You ain't lived till you seen those colors Cap," she assured him with a half grin. She hissed as Tony worked through the wiring in her calf.

"Toes?" He gruffed without looking up at her. She wiggled them and winked at Steve as he slipped his hand in hers. She toyed with his fingers, finally twining them together as she bit down on her bottom lip, brows coming together briefly. He shook his head, if he stayed a little later that night so she could tell him about chasing fireflies in the dark across the grassy fields… No one could judge him right?

He liked when Tony groaned as she hummed 'Man! Feel Like a Woman!' Which Steve had learned faster than he should feel comfortable with.

Tony was almost done, she would be headed back out once he had finished with the last modifications. There was just one problem, "FRIDAY, don't let her know, I'd rather it come from me than her tripping over it."

"Of course sir," she answered quietly.

Steve stopped by the small enclosed office he kept, it was just a small glass cubicle where Tony kept a small desk for paperwork. "Something wrong?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder to where McKenna laid on the table eyes closed, arms at her side.

Tony sat back, the chair rolling around so that he could catch a glimpse of her. "FRIDAY? Lock it down." Steve stepped to the side so that Tony could kick the door shut, "every time she comes in we run diagnostics." He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

Steve waited, he didn't like the tone Tony had, it unsettled him.

"FRIDAY found a source code." Steve blinked at him. "Source code is the original writing of a program the object code is-" he waved his hands around searching for an explanation, "the version that comes after. New versions built upon the other..."

Steve took in a breath, blue eyes flying to McKenna. "Tony-"

"She's asleep, had to run maintenance on the basic programs that move her body…" he leaned forwards and sighed, "she's a more advanced AI than FRIDAY."

"No." Steve shook his head. "What about her memories?"

Tony cocked his head to the side, "Steve. Hammer made her. His scientists actually wrote her code, her memories… are not real." Tony felt bad as Steve shook his head, "I can't believe they were able to do it honestly, we actually thought they had transferred a human consciousness-"

"Tony!" Steve hissed, "I've spoken to her!! She's told me so much about herself, h-how could-?!" His face twisted in anger and pain. If she were to hear this… Steve looked over at her again, "she's not real??" He felt as if the wind was knocked out of him.

"Not entirely certain what they wanted to do with her originally, why make it seem like she was human from the beginning? They could have been-"

Tony's voice drowned out as he kept talking, Steve only half listening. She felt real. Not her body but… her laugh? The way she described pecan pie and talking about smashing pumpkins. McKenna was more real and alive than many he had met. She liked to run her fingers along his jaw, his five o'clock shadow tickling her fingers, the way her eyes creased at the edges, the gold of her eyes. Her breath, the way she cringed when something Tony did didn't hurt at all, the set of her jaw when she was determined to not show the pain.

"....FRIDAY is more than just an AI to me, god knows without her I would be completely lost," Tony was saying.

"Are you going to tell her?"

Tony stared at Steve, noting the way his shoulders tensed as he stared at McKenna. He folded his hands together and nodded, "made a deal with her. I will always be completely honest with her no matter what it is."

"Tony…"

"She is prideful. You can be there but her team needs to be here. They are on their way in. Should be another fifteen."

"Tony..."

He refused to look at Steve, but stood and squeezed his shoulder, "yeah… I know buddy."

It sucks, the thought was shared by the two, unspoken.

The quiet that settled between the two was broken after not too long, the group of four men spilling onto the floor and McKenna roused slowly as Tony ordered FRIDAY to allow it.

Steve stopped at the door frame, heart sinking as the men grew louder as she swung her legs over the edge of the table. Her golden eyes meeting his and her smile faltering for a moment.

#metal #steve rogers #ofc!mckenna haweye #tony stark #avengers au

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lemonjoonah · 5 years

Text

Beastly Gods (M)

Pairings: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader x ??? Word Count: 8K Rating: M Genre: Hybrid AU, Thriller, Drama Warnings: Smut scene (Unprotected Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Fingering, Cum Play), Blood, Captivity, Themes of Obsession and Ownership.

Summary: ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you've been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

AN: Not your typical Hybrid AU. At first I was going to release secondary love interest information, but then I thought, fuck it, you’ll guys will just have to wait until the end to see who watches over the forest *Cackles*. Story is dedicated to @lovelesscherry who reblogged a cabin room photo that started this whole mess of an idea.

...

A large oak stands in front of you as your best method to reach the sky, the only tool you have for your small calculated rebellion.

You’ve been taught since birth, ‘Don’t leave the forest. As long as you remain within the woods you are safe, but anything which goes out beyond the line of trees is his to take. ’ The lessons refer to the so called protector of your forest, a self proclaimed god, and the one you live to hate. Some have made attempts to leave over the years, to go past the tree line but none of them have returned. The people of your village believe them to be dead but you hold out hope that maybe they found something better.

You grab the first branch and haul yourself up. The first step is always the most difficult, with such a large distance between it and the forest floor. Going from there is only too easy, stepping from limb to limb as you make your rise to the top.

Three generations of your people have resided in this place. Some call it home but to you it is nothing more than a cage. The branches creating the bars which entrap you in this life. You wish to see the open sky unobscured by the reach of the trees, so everyday you make the climb to the highest tree top you can.

Those that had made previous attempts to escape left the forest perimeter on the ground, but you take your brief moment of freedom from up high. You delight in having found a weakness in his pen, one god surely would have difficulty watching all sides of the forest, why would he even bother to check the treetops? Up here you are safe, you are free. It may seem like a pointless rebellion but to you it’s everything, reaching beyond the branches has become your way of showing that you are not complacent.

On this climb you barely rise above the majority of the treeline. You yearn to go even higher but the next set of branches are too weak to support your weight. Settling in with your against the trunk you watch the birds soaring off in the distance, envying their wings and their freedom.

You’re only able to remain in your tree top few minutes each day, concerned that someone might find you up here. Those in the village believe you will bring the gods wrath upon them if you act out in any way. They have no wish to anger your keeper, fearing that your bloody history would play out once again...

In their effort to reach new scientific heights, your ancestors had brought on the downfall of their own human race. They thought to create a new species, one that was half human, half animal, with an intent to be used and to fill a variety of purposes. Little did your people know that they would revolt, a hybrid’s power could not be tamed, and they had no wish to be formed into a mould of a domesticated pet. The hybrids were so deeply ingrained in the lives of humans that it was only too easy for them to take control. They used all of the knowledge they had gathered and strength they had been breed to wield against their owners in a revolution.

The hybrids rose above their masters to take their place as gods. They took everything away that could be used against them, and divided your surviving race among their own. Your ancestors were sent to hide in the forest to live under the hybrids rule, their protection, while paying homage and give offerings to the new lords, and that is where your people have resided ever since.

When the divide first happened there were stories of these gods fighting each other for territory, trying to take humans from under another’s rule, or lay claim to land that was not their own. People say that they know each other’s weakness, that only gods can find a way to end the reign of another. But from what you know there has been no such question of your past gods’ or their descendants’ authority.

...

Once a week your village is expected to leave an offering at the edge of the forest. In exchange for the ‘protection’ given to your village you supply the beastly god with food. There’s no extravagant ceremony you simply leave the sack in the designated spot and leave. In the past you’ve been tempted to stay and see if you could witness the so-called-god, but he has never shown himself while you’re there.

Your walk to the edge is quiet, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. The usual sounds of the forest fail to reach this far with the only noise coming from the cracking of twigs beneath your feet. You are steps away from your intended location when your path becomes blocked, a massive feathered creature falling to the ground in in front of you.

In a panic you hide behind the nearest tree to observe the fallen beast. Your curiosity begs you to watch, outweighing the fear which orders you to flee.

Glossy black wings that could easily be twenty feet in span, sprout from a back of a male who currently lays face down in the dirt. The hybrid lets out a groan and a swear punching the ground on which he rests with a gloved fist. As he lifts his head you slide back to conceal yourself.

“Human?” He calls out to you. “I know your there, I can hear you breathing.”

You tremble and your back presses into the bark of the trunk. Your hand covering your mouth in a last ditch attempt to conceal yourself.

“I can still hear you.... I need your assistance.”

“I am to leave food nothing else, that’s the agreement.” You call out.

“Yes, you’re right, but I rather get out of here before the one who injured me comes to finish me off. I’ll make a deal with you if you assist me”

“Who injured you?” You asked with a quaking voice.

“A god who keeps you here, one who watches this forest.” His reply encourages you to poke out from behind the tree to view the beast. Could it be? Someone has finally come to challenge your gods rule?

His face is dirty and bruised but even that can not hide the sharpness to his facial features. His shirt is an unusual fashion, flowing down from over top of his shoulders and lacing just under the bottom of his wing. It appears to be intact with no wounds showing, but on his gloves you notice a dark stain, that of blood.

Wings splay out behind him, one fully extended but the other is curled and dragging on the ground slightly hidden from you. “I’m glad to see that I have your attention now.” A smirk crosses his face as he looks upon you with the same curiosity that you have for him.

“W-why are you here?”

“Property dispute.” He laughs as if it’s a joke, but it seems that immediately regrets his decision when a pained look crosses his face. His damaged wing shifts closer, allowing you to see several broken feathers at it’s crest along with the deep read stain of blood. “I need your help.”

“Why should I?” He might not be the god who has entrapped you here, but that doesn’t mean he is innocent either.

“You want to get out of this forest don’t you? I’m too injured to fly, I need you to hide me in the forest while I heal. Do this and I’ll take you out of here.”

He needs permission to set foot on the grounds of your forest, that was the deal struck when your race was confined, they have their space and you have yours. “How long before you can fly again?”

He looks at the damage to his wing carefully, “It’s difficult to say maybe a couple weeks, maybe month?”

“A month! You want me to hide you for a month?”

“I’ll need food and a place to rest as well. What’s one month when it will give you a life outside of this forest?”

You ponder his offer with a bite to your lip, the wings you have longed for have finally come to you, but unfortunately they are attached to... conditions. “When you’re healed, you promise to get me out of here?”

“When I can fly I promise you’ll never have to come back to these woods again.” He struggles to stand his wing weighing him down with him unable to lift it properly.

Emboldened by the guarantee of freedom you approach him carefully, ready to flee if he makes even the slightest aggressive move.

“Such a skittish little dove,” He remarks on your stance.

“That’s not my name,” You respond flatly.

“Oh then what is?” He pries, but you consider that information might be best to keep to yourself. He smiles, clearly seeing the conflict rise up in you, “No matter, you can call me Taehyung if you wish. We should get moving before he comes back. I may have injured him too but I don’t think it was as bad as my own state.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Come here,” he prompts you to move closer with an outreached hand.

Taking your arm he places you at his side, “I can’t hold it up very easily myself.” His injured wing nudges at your back, “May I?” You nod looking hesitant with the weight of the wing unsure if you’ll be able to support it either.

With a groan he stretches it out, the bridge of the wing comes to rest on your shoulders, the soft feathers tickling at your neck. It’s not as heavy as you expect, but there’s a warmth to it as if you’re wrapped in a down blanket. Relief breaks across his face, “Thank you,” he whispers with a deep sigh.

“I live a far bit outside of the village, you should be fine in my cabin as long as you don’t take any excursions.”

“Yes Little Dove,” He gives you a wide boxy smile, an indication that he might not be taking you as seriously as you hoped.

“I mean it, if someone even catches a glimpse of your face let alone your wings they’ll know something’s not right.” Your people would be furious if they found out you invited one of them in. They may obey the hybrid’s laws but it’s out of fear, not respect.

Your progress is slow, but that allows you to ease back to your door under the cover of darkness. As soon as you step inside you draw the curtains closed and light a couple of lamps in the small living room. “Sit down, I’ll fetch something for your wound.” You press him onto the couch while you find your supplies

Your kit looks grim. Alcohol and bandages will have to suffice, your stock has run low and the salve has reached the bottom of the tin.

As you return to him you can see that he is having difficulty reaching the wound with its location on the crest of his wing just behind his shoulder. “I think I’ll need your assistance again.”

“I-I don’t, I’ve never looked after...” You know the wings of birds to be fragile and the thought of damaging it more worries you.

“I can direct you.”

The cut for the most part has clotted and it doesn’t appear too deep, but this spot must incur a lot of strain during flight, making it impossible for him to fly in such a state.

Taehyung takes your hand hovers it over the affected area. He looks back to direct your touch as you stand in front of where he sits. “You see the broken and crooked feathers?” You nod touching the very tip of one. “Those are going going to have to come out.”

“What?!”

“They’ll grow back and it’s just a couple.” There are maybe five or six at most that look to be in terrible shape, but that doesn’t make the thought of what you are about to do any less daunting. You grab the first by it’s base and look back to him to make sure. Taehyung gives you a nod to proceed. As the stem dislodges he grabs your waist, his head leans into you while he gasps.

“Sorry,” You mutter unsure of what else to say.

“No it’s fine keep going.”

With the next feather his other wing unfurls and beats angrily knocking a chair over in the process. A slight whimper escapes him drawing pity from you. You had expected his kind to be strong and without pain but here he is exhibiting a weakness.

“Almost done,” You whisper as his long fingers continue to hold you.

After pulling out the last, you step back from him, with a half dozen quills in your hand. You examine the black plumage carefully, admiring their beauty and the way they shine in the candle light.

You can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you, watching you as your fingers glide over the feathers. You blush offering them back to the winged man.

“You can keep them Little Dove,” he chuckles, “I have plenty.”

You smile, embarrassed by the fact that he had caught your interest in them. Soaking a cloth in the clear alcohol you move forward again, with the broken feathers out of the way you have a better view of the cut. You perch yourself carefully not hovering this time but kneeling next to him on the couch with one leg between his to get a closer look. There a bit of dirt from his fall, you can only hope that the alcohol will be enough to prevent it from getting infected. “This is going to hurt too,” you warn him.

“I doubt it will be worse than... fu-fuck!” His good wing curls round closing in as he pulls you to his chest in reaction to the pain. You are the one to gasp this time as his mouth nips down on your shoulder.

“Taehyung?” You make an attempt to pull his hands off but his grip digs in like a pair of talons latching to its prey. “Taehyung, that hurts! You have to let go, you have to let me finish.” He releases you slowly but you can still feel him winch with every touch of the cloth. Finding a fresh linen you question how you should secure it. It’s not like you can wrap it in place that would have to encompass the entire width of his wing and might damage some of his other feathers.

You take a look through your cupboards looking for anything that might function as an adhesive. Your eyes settle on a golden jar of honey, it’s a decent antiseptic and hopefully it should make the cloth stick too. With the flat of a spoon you spread it over the bandage and place it carefully on, you smile in success when it appears to be secure.

“Thank you Little Dove, I guess you humans have a few more uses than I thought,” He laughs.

Your face falls at his comment, remembering what he truly is. What his kind have done to your people. “Get some sleep, you’ll need it to heal.” You growl standing to make a swift exit to your room.

“Wait, how am I supposed to sleep with my wings on a couch?” He whines back looking confused by the change in your tone.

“Figure it out yourself, I’ve just reached the limit of my usefulness.” You throw back at him in anger, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. He’s your ticket out of here, one month and your free, one month and you can escape this enclosed life and try to find something even greater. You look down to the feathers in your hand and set them on your side table, wishing that you could have your own and not have to rely on his.

Sleep does not come easy that night, every sound from the other room has you wondering what the beast might be up to, and whether you can actually trust him to keep his side of the bargain.

...

You rise with the sun peering in the large window of your bedroom. Carefully stepping out to your living room you find Taehyung sprawled out on the couch, cuddling one of the cushions while his injured wing lays flat, propped up by one of your chairs. On the stove fire you bring a pot of water to boil, using it to fill two bowls of oatmeal and a basin.

You try to wake him, but after calling his name and shaking his shoulder you find this task to be pointless. The bandage has to be changed before you leave, if he refuses to wake up beforehand he will within a minute or two after you start. You dip the rag into the basin of warm water and place it over the gauze patch melting the honey to allow for an easier removal.

You can see a sleepy smile creep onto Taehyung’s face, he abandons the pillow and allows his arms to trail over you instead. This all comes to a halt as you remove the bandage. His eyes fly open as a hiss greets you. “What the hell?”

“What? I tired to wake you, but I guess I can’t help you with that either.”

“Fuck,” He groans in pain, “I’m sorry okay? It was a stupid comment.”

“If you are going to stay here you either respect me as an equal, or I’ll throw you out of the cabin. I have to leave soon, so let me finish. I made you food, not sure if you’re able to eat it though.”

“I’m not picky, my kind can eat anything.”

You reapply the honey to a new linen square and dress the wound once again, as he takes the bowl of porridge.

After finishing you gather your cloak and boots that you discarded haphazardly the day before.

“Where are you going?” He looks up to you before taking another bite of his meal.

“I’m one of the foragers, I look for additional food that’s not grown on the smaller farms, mushrooms berries, nuts, whatever we can get our hands on.” You explain while tying a boot.

His eyes grow wide, “You shouldn't go out there it’s not safe for you.”

“Yeah well, your kind should have thought of that before you drove us into the second dark age.”

“That was for your safety too. It wasn’t just about our freedom, you humans have a way of destroying yourselves and everything around you, my ancestors were trying to protect what was left.”

“Then it should be perfectly fine now...” you goad him.

“Stay away from the edge of the forest,” He instructs. “And don’t climb any trees.”

“How did you...” You stop for a second stunned by his knowledge of your little secret.

“Please, just trust me.” Taehyung gives not further explanation, he only stares back at you with a distinct look of sincerity.

You wish you could question him more but you have to leave, or some of the other foragers might come to your cabin to find you.

...

You return that evening to find Taehyung wide eyed with worry. He smiles brightly at you but the stress and confinement has clearly left him agitated.

“Okay talk, you clearly know more than you let on.”

“I’m not sure what...”

“Don’t climb any trees?” You throw your cloak down on the chair beside you in frustration. You thought all day about the possibilities and the questions you need to ask of him, wasting no time before grilling him with your inquiries, “How do you know that I do that when no one else in this village does. Why are you really here?”

“I’ve seen you before,” Taehyung looks down at his feet while he exposes his truth. “When you were climbing. I had never seen a human do that before, you peaked my interest.”

“Really? That was why you came?”

“What can I say? My kind have a weakness for pretty things... and you’re little rebellion drew me in.” He looks back to you again with a side smile. “I wanted to come find you, maybe even take you from this place. Your god does not have your best interest at heart, or at least the type of freedom you desire.”

“What is he?”

“A winged creature the same as myself, a crow hybrid.”

“But today you said I wasn’t safe, what’s changed from all the days before?”

Taehyung takes a deep breath looking hesitant to share the next bit of information with you, “Rumour is that he’s looking for a mate, and has you in mind. I’m not the only one who saw you climbing. You look so very much at home in the trees, I can see why he chose you.”

You are beyond revolted by the thought, bile begins to rise in your throat, a panic sets in as you consider the imposing threat of a god’s affection. You sit down next to Taehyung cowering with you hands on your face, “But he can’t, he can’t take me. He made a pact with my people, he can’t even set foot in the forest unless we give permission.”

“No he can’t,” Taehyung removes your grip from yourself, and takes your chin in his own hands to ensure that you are focused on him, that you take in every word as cautionary advice. “Not unless you leave the forest with him, for your sake don’t leave my side. No matter what happens, no matter what tricks he plays or what he might do to persuade you, don’t leave with anyone else but me. If you step outside with him willingly you become his property. If that happens I can’t save you.”

“You were hurt before, do you really think we can leave if he is determined?”

“I do, I was caught off guard when he attacked. Let’s just say I have friends in high places who will prevent that from happening again.”

...

The weeks that follow are by no means unpleasant. Although the hybrid was arrogant at first he soon comes down to your level. While you tell him of your life here and your true name, he returns the favour of your honestly with tales of flight and what it feels like to soar through the sky.

You had no idea what to expect living with him, there some habits that of his you enjoy, and others that can be a little... frustrating. You once spent half an hour looking for your cloak only to find that Taehyung had stolen it to add to his bed. He apologized saying that it is a trait of his kind. Little things of yours still go missing though, most are found in the same place, wrapped within the nest of blankets that he has created on the couch, but there must be a half dozen objects which you’ve never managed to track down again. As an apology for taking your belongings he leaves feathers on your pillow. A smile crosses your face each time as you add them to the collection on your bedside table. This soft ink-black bouquet has become the focal point of your room, one from which you cannot draw your eyes away, a lure that leads your thoughts back to Taehyung even after you leave him for the night.

To your delight his wing is healing rapidly, everyday you feel one step closer to freedom. He couldn’t have come at a better time with the pressures from your village. They have been telling you that it’s time to settle down, to stop living with your head in the clouds, and start thinking about the future of this little town and how you can contribute. But every time they bring up the possibility of a match your mind drifts to Taehyung.

You haven’t even escaped with him yet but when you’re with him you feel unrestrained. How he rather observe your actions and listen to your thoughts rather than criticize them like those in your village. He is the only one to have ever give you a choice in what you wanted, and now because of that you find yourself longing for him.

...

“You shouldn’t go out there today Little Dove,”

“I won’t go near the edge of the forest.”

“No it’s not just that. There’s a storm coming.” You notice the slight shiver to his skin as he says those words. The feathers of his wings ruffle and puff out, he looks as if his instinct is telling him to flee.

You begin to worry but not for the same reasons, a winter storm this early could be devastating to the food collection.

“I have to, if there’s is a storm on the way we need to gather everything we can before it’s covered in snow. I’ll keep an eye out and come back before it hits.”

You know that Taehyung would want you to stay close but in all good conscience you can’t. Instead you push yourself even further into the depths of the forest, separating from the rest of the party. You reach areas to forage that you usually don’t use until later in the season. With winter on it’s the way sooner than expected you can’t afford to miss this opportunity to gather all you can.

It was a stupid thing to do you realize on your trek back, you’re not even a quarter of the way home when the freezing rain begins to pelt your cloak. Your hands grow painfully numb from the cold lashing against your skin. An hour later and you are still haven’t returned, your clothes are thoroughly soaked with parts of the cloth freezing in the frigid air.

The day goes from bad to worse when the snow starts, obscuring your vision as it falls from the sky. You can only pray that you are heading in the right direction, as your feet move forward. The world completely awash by the flurry around you.

Your progress slows as you step into the drifts. The icy chill penetrates deep into your legs, leaving you barely able to move, and your mind unwilling to focus on anything other than the warmth you crave. Your sight grows fuzzy, leaving you to question it as you catch glimpses of what you desire, black feathers, littering the ground and the path in front of you. You look to the sky but are only meet with the blanket of white that continues to fall. You can’t be sure if you are just seeing things, that maybe your mind has created a delusion of hope to lead you on. But you follow the trail of feathers regardless, wanting so badly to be embraced by the warm wings you know so well.

Between the gusts of wind you can almost here whispers of the name he has given you, ‘Little Dove.’ You follow the soft voice in a trance desperate to leave this frozen place by any means necessary.

It’s not until you hear shouting behind you that you are shaken from your daze.

“No Little Dove, that’s the wrong way!” Taehyung's voice and arm close in around you blocking out everything else. He shrouds you with a cloak which he too hides beneath. His wings forming a large mound of a back but still hidden from view.

He picks you up and turns back in the direction from which he came. Trudging through the snow drifts that had made you stumble.

Once you reach the cabin he pulls off your cloak and sets you in front of the glowing fire in your bedroom. Proceeding to layer it with log after log until it’s as tall as the stove will allow. Every candle and lamp in the room is lit by his hand. The warmth is slow to hit while your clothes are still frozen. Pulling a blanket from your bed you strip beneath leaving your undergarments on wrapped beneath the heavy fibres.

Taehyung to begins to undress too although modesty does not seem to be a concern of his. Exposing everything to the air except what lies beneath his underwear. He takes a seat next to you on the floor in front of the fire. “You promised you would be back in time. What were you thinking? He almost had you.”

“I lost track of time, when the storm set in I couldn’t see.” Your teeth chatter as you try to absorb the heat.

“You’re lucky I came to find you.”

Taehyung stretches out his wings behind you shaking them slightly to dislodge the moisture that seeped in through his cloak.

You turn to face one of the wings letting your arm reach up from beneath the blanket. Your fingers brush through his damp feathers, grooming them back into place. There’s a low vibration at the back of his throat as his eyes close.

“Why did you? You’re almost healed you could probably manage flight on your own. It would be easier for you to escape that way.” You pause with your fingers buried deep in down coat of his wing as you look up to his content face.

“Please don’t stop,” he begs looking down to place his hand on yours, urging you to keep going. “I told you I came to find you, I gave you my word. Do you think that I wish to lose you to someone else? Or that I would leave you to escape out there alone?”

Taehyung takes a deep breath causing his wings to shudder beneath your touch, “Little Dove, I’m sorry I should have told you sooner but the freedom which you were looking for, it does not exist for humans. Not outside of these confined spaces. Those who are found unaccompanied are either killed or taken to maintain control. I question taking you out there without you knowing that it truly is safer in here. I would rather rip these wings off than expose you to those who reside out there. I wish I could live with you in this cage forever, with you and you alone.”

It’s as the village has always told you, but even now knowing the definite truth you still find yourself wishing to leave, “Please keep your promise, I don’t care about the consequences anymore I just need to leave this forest.”

“I won’t break it. I just need to make you aware of what you might see out there. It’s a life of basic instinct, one that you won’t be able to survive alone. If you want to exist in safety you’ll be forced to stay by my side. Do you really think you can handle that Little Dove?” His deep voice echoes through you as his hands trail your back. “What would your people say if they saw you with a beast like me?”

“I don’t care. They are set in their ways with their feet rooted to the ground, they are part of this cage. I’ve never wanted to leave as much as I do now, I want to leave here with you, I want to stay with you.”

Your hand moves from his wing to touch his cheek, when you hesitate an inch from his face he leans in to meet your grasp. His lips graze the skin of your palm as he looks at you through narrowed eyes. It’s as if your touch has woken a demon inside of him, one who demands your surrender, which you are only too glad to give. He rips the blanket from your shoulders and crashes into your chest. His mouth finds yours and wastes no time before claiming the warmth behind your lips.

Taehyung rises up tugging you off the floor and into his arms, completely encasing you with the walls his wings as you stand against him. Feeling his feathers caress the bareness of your back as you are pressed to his chest sends shivers through you. His mouth nips at your neck with sharp bites. Your feel like the pain should bother you but you find yourself wanting more, more of him, more of this.

You are tired of this enclosure that you live in. How everyone considers the fact that they are being watched, causing them to act too good, too pure, and never giving into what they truly desire. Is it so bad to want feel everything at the hands of the man currently holding you?

“I long for the day where I can leave with you, and tell everyone that you’re mine. I want to show them how I can make you feel.” His hand trails to your chest, reaching behind to unlatch you bra, “The blush rising to your skin,” His hands continue downwards falling next under the band of your underwear pushing them down until they fall to the floor, “the dampness between your legs,” You fold into him as his fingers touch the arousal to which he was just referring, “The look on your face as I take you. Would you like that? To show your god that you belong to me?”

You smile at the thought, your little rebellion becoming far more than climbing trees, “More than anything.”

Taehyung growls with pleasure. “Little Dove.” He turns you around and guides his shaft inside you from behind as your legs wobble on the floor. His hand reaches down to rub the swollen numb at your crest. He stays like that for a moment, no movement no thrusting, just letting you get used to the girth between your legs. Your body begins to overheat, desperate with a wish for him to continue.

“Do you truly want to show him how I fuck you, how you enjoy taking my cock?”

“Yes.” You whisper back only able to answer with a single word while the rest of you voice is lost in a moan.

“As you wish.” Taehyung unfurls his wings and pins you against the large window of your room. A loud cry leaves you from the shock of the cool glass pressing against you. “If he’s watching, let’s give him a show,” He growls in your ear.

The exposure is overwhelming, the window pane is freezing against your sensitive chest, the thought that someone might see you is terrifying, but at the same time you can feel the arousal drip down your thighs as he shoves you against the glass with each thrust. His hands come to find yours against the window and cling to them. While your breath leaves a wave of condensation against the pane.

“Is this okay Little Dove? Do you like how I have you splayed out for all to see?” You nod giving him a whimper as he thrusts once again. “It’s such a pretty sight.” Taehyung whispers into your ear and proceeds to nip at your lobe.

He pulls out and flips you around forcing your back against the glass. Taehyung wraps your arms around his neck before taking one your thighs in each hand. He lifts you up and glides back in. “Fuck Little Dove, if I had known you would be this soft and warm I would have come to you sooner.”

His pace is relentless as he continues to swell inside you. Pressing even further against you, he helps you to lock your legs around his back. After the coolness of the glass, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours is so soothing that the tightness inside you starts to unravel. You clench down causing him to gasp and swear as you come on his cock. You quake in his arms unable to hang on as the pleasure runs through you.

“Tae-Taehyung...” You shudder in his hands your head drooping to your arm on the crook of his neck.

“That’s it, sing for me Little Dove.” He forces your head back and snaps down on your neck with his teeth. As you unleash another moan for him, you can feel his warmth spill inside you. He remains within while his lips begin to stroke across your skin, giving a soft caress to the area he just assaulted with his teeth. The rise and fall of his chest slows and matches yours as you both catch your breath.

He lowers you both down to the floor on the discarded blanket in front of the window with you resting on top of him. You make an attempt to reach for a cloth to clean up the cum seeping from you, when Taehyung stops you by folding over his wings to entrap you against him.

“No you don’t, you’re staying right here.”

You blush as you try to explain the reasoning behind your actions, “I’m going to drip all over you...”

“Good,” He reaches around your back, arching himself forward to lay his fingers against your swollen folds. “Why would I want to waste this?” You twitch as the tips run along you slit. “You are mine Little Dove and this proves it.” His index slides inside, drawing a whine from the sensation and twitch at his touch. His other arm wraps around your waist keeping you locked against him as he adds another finger to the first. You continue to writhe against him but he does not relent.

Your hands grip his chest as you find yourself chasing that release once again. Taehyung smiles down at you as you give into him for a second time. His wings draw even closer teasing your back with light touches as his fingers become more ruthless. Your walls close in and throb around his digits as the orgasm tears through you.

When his fingers pull out you are left with a breathless sigh. He draws his damp tips across your ass and lower back, as his mutters down to you with a smirk. “If you try to clean up again, I promise to paint you with even more of your cum and my own, is that understood?”

You relax against him nodding with a grin, you look to the cloth and consider rebelling for a third time before you fall asleep.

...

The next morning you wake still cocooned in Taehyung’s wings. The warmth of the sun absorbed in his feather is makes it a cozy spot. You poke your head out to look through the window, finding the forest bright with the light reflecting off the fresh snow and ice layered on the bark.

But as you look further up in the trees you still, unable to believe the sight. Resting on a branch you find a creature with an enormous black wings, a reach even farther than Taehyung’s mounted behind a pair of broad shoulders. The face peering down could easily be that of god, even if it is not truly divine.

In a panic you shake Taehyung while keeping your eyes on the beast, “Taehyung wake up.”

“Mmm, but you’re so warm Little Dove.”

“H-he’s out there...”

Taehyung shoots up to glance out the window, a look of disdain rooting into his expression as glares up. “Time’s up, we have to go,” He mutters pressing the blanket on to you for cover as you both get up.

“How is he even in the forest? He has no right.”

“You’re laws have holes, he has not set foot on the forest grounds, he has broken no rules by being there. This is why I asked you not to climb the trees.”

You closed the curtains and throw on your nearest outfit, before asking the most important question. “Are you healed enough to fly?”

“I can get you out of here, I can get you to safety, I promise. We have to get to the edge of the forest though, I need more room though can’t take off and fly with you through the trees they’re too narrow.”

You quickly pack small satchel with a few essentials. Your eyes linger on the stray feathers on your table before packing those too. They’ve become so valuable to you, you can’t bear the the thought of leaving them behind.

You both rush out the back door running through the trees heading south to the nearest break in the woods. A shadow looming overhead as you run.

Taehyung stops and looks up as your pursuer does the same, “Keep going I’ll take care of him, wait for me near the edge.”

“Taehyung...” You begin argue back.

“I’ll be fine, just remember what I said.”

Before you can give him another word he runs back towards the god, taking to the trees with one swift leap.

The snow is still deep and uneven in parts slowing your exit, so when the break in the forest appears in front of you, you feel a deep relief. Your freedom is almost here you are so close to touching it. You thought that your wait might be over as a set of black wings lower in front of you, but they are not Taehyung's, nor do they belong to the god who peered down at you from the trees.

The winged man offers you a hand, he puts on a friendly face with a bright smile. “You need to come with me.”

You back away knowing what will happen if you do.

Sensing your fear he urges your hand to come to his once again, “I know Taehyung, I’ll bring him to you once your safe.”

He may know Taehyung’s name but you still can’t trust him, “I’m not leaving with you, I know how your games work.”

“Oh Little Dove, you have no idea...” A wicked smile appears on his face, as he witnesses the rise in confusion with the use of your nickname.

Taehyung comes up from behind pulling you into his arms. “Nice try Hoseok, did you make a deal with Seokjin to distract me?”

“It was worth a shot.” Hoseok’s face falls to bitterness as he looks to the man holding you.

Taehyung looks ready to pounce upon this hybrid too, but Just as Taehyung fell on the day that you meet him another pair of wings darts down from this sky. Although this decent appears to be more calculated, taking down the beast called Hoseok.

“Yoongi...” Taehyung calls out stepping forward to help him.

“Go! I’ve got him.” The hybrid shouts pinning the other beneath him.

Taehyung turns to you, “If you want to leave with me, we have to go now.”

He holds out his long slender fingers, to take yours. You hesitate but follow through, knowing that you would give anything to escape the wooden cage behind you.

The second your hand touches his and you step over the line he swoops you up into his arms. Seeing the full span of his wings takes your breath away. He holds you close as he lifts from the ground, the smile on your face grows as you reach the unobstructed blue sky, leaving the forest behind. But your joy is short lived for you don’t even travel out of view of the forest before his pace slows.

“Your wing, is it okay?”

“Of course Little Dove,” you turn your head away from the sky to the direction in which you are heading, finding a house built high on the branches of a tree. He sets you down on the balcony of the wooden house and presses you inside with a soft kiss to you check. “Welcome home...”

You look around you surroundings and notice a few of your missing belongings scattered about, from clothes, to jewellery that had been passed down to you, as well as one of your favourite books. You take one of your shirts in hand as you question him, “What do you mean home? Why are we still so close...” Your heart stops as his smile grows. “No, you said you’d keep me safe...”

“My nest is safe, where it always has been, and always will be watching over the forest.”

The god you’ve always hated... the one you’ve always tried to rebel against... the one who was looking for a mate. Stands in front of you with a look of victory etched into his face.

“You didn’t belong in there, your more like my kind than human. I could see it in your eyes, how you craved the open sky. I knew from the first time I saw you in that tree you would make the perfect addition to our nest, how pretty you would look woven into our midst.”

“Our midst?”

The three hybrids you had just seen in the woods descend upon the house... accompanied by three more. As they enter you back yourself into a corner, trying to keep your eyes on every face, every winged enemy that stands in front of you. Not just one god, but seven.

Taehyung follows you making sure not leaving your side, “My brothers and I, just like the crows we descend from we stay together. When we found you we made a deal, whoever took you from the forest by their hand, whoever could convince you to leave would take control of the flock..and you. I was given the first attempt.”

“Your injury, the fighting between you, it was all fake. You tricked me?”

“Oh the injury was real, Jungkook was not happy that he would have to wait. As I said we are beasts, he tried to stop me from meeting you. Just as my other brothers fought me to take their chance and leave with you.

“Last night, in the storm?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung glares over to the shortest male who looks to you with a smirk, “Wanted to see if he could tempt you before I could.”

“You should have continued to follow my voice Little Dove, you were so close. I would have kept you warm.” Jimin coos.

You stunned to silence you look down to the shirt in your hands, gripping in until your knuckles turn white, fear and anger coursing through you. Taehyung follows you sight, “Forgive me, I traded those things to keep my brothers complacent, to buy more time with you. They were so happy when you accepted their feathers in return, they’ll be even happier to know that you kept them with you.”

You immediately drop the bag that they are contained in, overwhelmed with the feeling that you might be sick.The tallest brother reaches out to you with concern on his face, but the thought of him touching leads you to pull back and him to fall away.

“Don’t worry Little Dove, Namjoon won’t hurt you, none of them will. They’ve dreamt of you just as much as I. They were so thankful for the display you gave last night they could wait no longer to have you too.” Taehyung takes your upper arm and tugs you towards him placing his lips on your neck in a soft kiss.

“Taehyung please, stop. I can’t... I don’t want this.” You beg in tears, trying to pull away.

He holds firm and brushing the dampness from your face, “Nothing has changed between us, I can still give you the sky. I didn’t want to frighten you, can you honestly say that you would have given me a chance if you had known the truth?”

“No, and I still wouldn’t!” You curse your stupidity, letting your desire for freedom blind you from the truth. You leapt from your cage, and landed straight into their nest. A nest high in a tree with no low branches for escape.

“You left off your own accord, you took my hand willingly. Resist if you wish, if it will make you content.” Taehyung smiles in no way dissuaded but your tone, he turns to hold you from behind allowing his brothers to look upon you while he traps you with an arm around you waist. A low whisper from him reaches your ear and seize your soul, “But you should know by now, you can’t climb away Little Dove, every rebellion only brings you closer to me.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #yandere bts #bts hybrid au #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #v x reader #bts reader insert #bts thriller au #bts hybrid #bts beastly gods

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peonybane · 4 years

Text

Beyond the Veil: Part 1

Pairing: Choi Youngjae (GOT7) x Psychopomp!Reader

Word Count: 8.3 k

Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Psychopomp AU, Doctor AU

Warnings: Mentions and depictions of death (I don’t know how to word this as… this is a story about a Grim Reaper), Pining (so much pining)

Summary: Life is a gift. Every Spirit of Death knew this. They weren’t allowed to touch Life — weren’t allowed to experience it. Every once in a while they can, the unspoken rule being that Death can only fall in love once with Life. And never again.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for your patience with me on this. Especially since this was suppose to be a one-shot and I’ve learn my lesson that it is not. Thank you to the platonic love of my life, @ropeseok for putting up with me through this whole process.

If you’d like to notified/tagged when PART 2 comes out, please reblog this part!

White. Sterile. The overwhelming use of anti-septic burned your nose slightly. A hospital. Here you were again. You practically lived here. Though, you supposed there was worse places you could end up as a Spirit of Death. You could’ve ended up like some of your brethren, always seeming to be summoned to battlefields. Or worse….

You shook the thought from your head. No, things could be far worse. Besides, Death was inevitable. No one could run from it. No one could fight it… not really. It was just a matter of how each soul would meet their escort.

You wandered the halls, the humans not noticing you at all. Looking down, you watched as the threads of your dress — thin, wispy grey tendrils, really — swayed and snaked around you, eventually fading away into nothing as they connected to the souls that you’d eventually escort, all varying shades of grey. One of the threads pulsed and darkened — this was the reason why you were here today — you were here to escort a soul.

Wandering around the hospital, you kept an eye on the thread — you had some time before you had to collect the soul. No need to rush being a voyeur to pain and grief.

Instead, you wandered over to the ward that was your secret pleasure: the maternity ward.

Babies were… fascinating to you. After all, most of those you interacted with were the aged and sick. You dealt with the inevitable. But birth… birth was practically magic to you. Despite the tales told by humans, your kind was not omnipotent — you just knew a few more certainties than humans did. But birth… was the greatest mystery of all….

It was the greatest forbidden fruit.

But more than just the babies, you came to this ward for a particular reason: Dr. Choi.

You nearly missed him — his back facing towards you, the white lab coat obstructing his figure before he turned at the last moment. He was excusing himself from a patient’s room, just down the hall from you. You probably would have missed him entirely if it wasn’t for his laugh. The place where you should’ve had a heart gave a small pitter patter when you saw him. He was… so full of life. The dedication he had for his patients. His zest for life. His laugh. He fascinated you in ways you never knew was possible.

He still made you feel the way you had the first time you saw him.

You got lost, actually, ending up in the wrong operating room. As an OB/GYN surgeon, he was skilled as he performed a c-section. What fascinated you was that as he was performing the operation, he kept speaking to the mother, reassuring her of how well she was doing. Even cracking a joke or two when he realized she was starting to freak out.

You were so distracted in that moment, you almost missed getting the soul you needed to retrieve, lest their soul wander free and reek havoc, haunting the world as they looked for their bodies or searched for the Forest.

Dr. Choi (you’d yet to hear his first name, you didn’t want to, you didn’t want to get too attached) adjusted his sterile blue scrubs before he made his way towards his office. You were tempted to follow him, just to watch him from afar… just like you always had.

“If you stare at him any harder, you’re going to set him on fire.”

You jumped at the sound of Jaebeom’s voice. “Dammit, Jaebeom! Don’t do that.”

You turned around, staring up into the dark eyes of Jaebeom, a named Spirit of Death — your brother in some sense. His shaggy, long black hair was pulled away from his face, showing off his piecing dark eyes. He smirked down at you, his stance utterly relaxed under his own Death Shroud, a duster jacket. On his shoulders, his Bombay feline familiar, Haneul, laid across his broad shoulders, her sleek, black fur almost disappearing under the blanket of Jaebeom’s own hair, her bright yellow eyes staring at you sleepily.

“Long time no see, little Morana.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You hated it when he called you that. Though to be fair… you didn’t have a name. None of the Spirits of Death did; instead — they’d take on a title of sorts, using names the humans made up if need be. The only way to have a Name, one that no one could take or abuse, was to live a Life.

A Life which Jaebeom lived to the fullest.

“It’s good to see you, Jaebeom.” You looked around. “Where’s the kittens?”

Jaebeom laughed. He reached into the deep pockets of his jacket and with withdrew his two other familiars, Yugyeom and Kunpimook. The older of the two, Kunpimook was lovingly called BamBam for all the trouble he caused as a lanky, white haired, green-eyed Oriental Shorthair. Yugyeom was a giant, blue eyed, fluffy, grey Maine Coon. Both of them looked at you, almost angrily, having their naps disturbed.

You smiled as Jaebeom passed off Yugyeom to you, the big boy immediately purring into your arms. Jaebeom smiled as he cuddled BamBam in his own arms. “He missed you.”

You smiled a little. You couldn’t hear Jaebeom’s familiars. Only he could. His mind was connected to theirs, their bond cemented when the foursome was human.

“I can tell.”

Everything was silent for a moment. Even the sound of nurses wandering around the ward seemed to have quieted down for a moment. You hadn’t seen Jaebeom for a while. Not since he came back from living amongst humans. You, Jaebeom, and Haneul were inseparable for the first few years after Haneul died, helping Jaebeom return to his previous duties as a Spirit of Death.

“What are you doing here, Jaebeom?”

Jaebeom practically bristled. Well, Haneul did anyways. “It’s your 1,500th year, right?”

You sighed. Of course. That was why he was here.

Yugyeom nuzzled further into your touch, smushing his face into the crook of your arm. Jaebeom continued. “I just... I heard that you were thinking about not accepting Hermes’ gift for once. You’ve always accept his gift before. Do — Do you want to talk about it?”

Sighing, you looked away from Jaebeom, no longer able to meet his gaze. He leaned down to be eye level with you. Haneul pushed off his broad shoulder a little to head butt you to get your attention. “Do you want to talk about him?”

You scoffed. “I’m not in love.”

“Could have fooled me. Besides, I never mentioned anything about love.”

Biting your lower lip, you asked, “Am I actually in love with him? Or do I just want what you have and see him as a means to an end? Either way — I shouldn’t tempt Fate.”

He was silent as he thought about it. “Only you can answer that. But I would give him a chance, either way. I wasn’t sure if I was truly in love with Haneul. But I trusted my instincts. How could I not take a chance when I couldn’t take my eyes off her? How could I not want her with me forever from the moment her gaze fell upon me? Not through me.”

His voice grew softer as he continued. “Our existence is a lonely one. Do you know why Hermes lets us live as humans for just one day every 500 years? Or why we’re allowed to live amongst them for a single lifetime?”

Swallowing, you shook your head. In comparisons to Jaebeom, you were practically a baby. Hermes was distant. He didn’t interact with his… children too much anymore.

Jaebeom stroked your hair, his gaze growing soft and tender. “Because he wants his children to have what he never could: to experience Life. To find companionship. There are nearly a million of us. But each of us is alone; our existence just an inevitable truth. A kindness. A tragic truth. We are alone, even when we’re together. But a lifetime with humans — the memories are fulfilling. We can fall in love —“

Haneul nuzzled Jaebeom, purring. In Life, they were married. For a moment, you wondered if their souls (or at least whatever your kind had) were entwined from the beginning of time. “— We can have a family.”

His gaze fell to the cats happily snoozing in both of your arms. In Life, they were Jaebeom and Haneul’s adopted sons, Jaebeom never being able to father any.

“Please… talk to me. Out of all our nameless brothers and sisters, I worry about you the most.”

Sniffling, you wiped the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, nearly dropping Yugyeom in the process. “I — I don’t want to condemn him. Like you said, our existence is a lonely one. And — And he’s just so full of Life. How could I surround him by death? Human always see us as a horribly dark thing.”

Jaebeom kissed your forehead. “Don’t make that decision for him. Let him choose.”

You opened your mouth to reply, to argue, then you felt the pull.

It was time.

It was time to collect the soul.

As if sensing it, Jaebeom took Yugyeom from your arms again, cradling the two overgrown kittens like babies. Your dress slowly started to change. From the simple dress, your Death Shroud changed into that of a military uniform, the grey threads unweaved themselves then reweaved, forming the new garment as it paled, turning white. Like it always did when it was time to guide a soul.

You no longer felt your body change — you had long since lost interest in the change. Your form changed to whatever the soul needed from you to find comfort. Sometimes it was just your face. Other times you might physically regress back to the form of a child, making the tragic loss a little less painful. At times, you might have ‘aged,’ providing comfort in being a quiet companion in their final stroll. And on rare occasions, your sex would change — a moment of familiarity or perhaps even safety, a small reassurance that everything would be ok — that you were nothing like the monsters they were finally escaping.

Glancing up, or rather, to, Jaebeom, your gaze no longer turned upward to meet his piercing eyes. Ah, probably meant you either resembled someone much taller than you’d normally stand, or your apparent sex had changed.

Looking you over, Jaebeom gave you a solemn nod. “Whatever you choose, little one….”

“I know,” sounding the same to your own ears, but probably vastly different to Jaebeom’s as his eyes widened slightly.

You gave him a casual salute before walking off in the direction of the soul you needed to collect. Glancing around, you tried to catch another glimpse of Dr. Choi. But he was nowhere to be seen. You let out a small sigh, disappointed before you headed towards the intensive care ward.

You phased through various walls until you found yourself in the right place. You could practically smell his soul becoming weaker and weaker. Your gaze following the thread that led from your Shroud, the thread this time at your left wrist, to his right hand, having wrapped around it along his life line.

There, in a hospital bed, laid an old man on a ventilator, his wife sitting next to him, her hand clutching his. His heartbeat grew slower, his eyes glassy. Slowly, you joined the two of them as you stood to the opposite side of the bed of his wife. He let out an exhale as his eyes focused in on you, finally seeing you.

It was time.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead. He took his last breath, his eyes falling closed. The heart rate monitor flat lined; his wife began to sob.

As you pulled away, you grasped his now lifeless hands, gently coaxing his soul from his body. Standing before you was not the withered, old man that laid in the bed. No, instead, it was a man in his prime, adorned in a perfectly maintained uniform and various medals on his chest.

You smiled at him. “On your feet, Captain. It’s time for your next mission.”

He looked around, dazed. He seemed solid enough. At least until he reached out to touch his wife, his hand going right through her. Staring at his hand, he asking you, shakily, “Am I dead?”

Gently, you replied, “Yes,” taking his hands in yours.

His eyes grew large. You squeezed his hands, trying to help him keep calm. “What… What about my wife?”

You glanced over to the woman, still weeping for the loss of her husband as a nurse entered the room. You were not her guide. You didn’t know when exactly when she’d die. But you could tell… she had a few years left in her.

“Do you have children? Grandchildren?”

He nodded. “Three daughters. Four grandbabies with two more on the way.”

You smiled at him. “She’ll be ok. As long as she has them, the rest of her life will be good. Even as she misses you. But you’ll be together soon. You just have to wait for her on the other side.”

He nodded again, slowly. He let go of your hands, turning back towards his wife. He leaned over and did the best he could, kissing her forehead. He whispered, “I love you, yeobo. I’ll wait for you.”

Turning back towards you, stood at attention, saluting you. In turn, you returned the gesture. “Shall we go, Captain?”

“Yes.”

You nodded. At your hip, you reached for your Sickle. Instead of the small, practical instrument that usually hung at your hip, it too had transformed to accompany your Shroud. At your hip was a ceremonial saber. How appropriate, you couldn’t help but think.

Unsheathing it, you admired its elegance. A small part of you wished your Sickle could have been a sword or a saber. Perhaps then humans wouldn’t fear a monstrosity of a sickle, fearful of it taking their souls by force. Taking a deep breath (despite not really needing one) you swung it in front of you, it’s blade cutting through space and time, opening a hole to the Forest.

The portal expanded, the edges shimmering as you sheathed the saber once more. You held your hand out again for him. “Come.”

As he took your hand, almost hesitantly, you led him through.

The Forest. Or, at least, that’s what you called it. Like everything else, it was nameless. But it had to be called something. Some called it Eden. Shangri-La. Arcadia. Xanadu. Yomi. Purgatory.

So many different names… and yet none of them quite correct. Perhaps the closest was Axis Mundi— where Life and the Afterlife met.

Your charge looked around the Forest in wonder as you closed the portal. You were surrounded by giant trees — trees that were sturdy even before Hermes began his sacred duty. In their bark was inscribed with uncountable names, each one belonging to a single soul that’s passed over. Their large leaves overhead provided ample shade, creating the illusion that there was a blue sky and shining sun above you. But there was nothing. It was just an endless void up there.

But that didn’t matter.

Not with the thousands of flowers blooming at your feet and the countless tendrils of ivy and moss dancing across the multitude of trees. Between the trees, you’d sometimes catch glimpses of other psychpomps out of the corner of your eye, finding themselves in comfortable silence with their familiars — whether as beasts or as humans. Wind rustled the leaves above, creating a sweet, comforting melody as it engulfed you in the familiar, loving smell of the flowers that were in eternal bloom. But there was no chattering of squirrels or the jubilant song of a bird, just the sound of leaves rustling and the bubbling of the creek up ahead.

No.

This was no place for them. This was no place for the living — no matter their form.

Your charge turned back to you. “Is — Is this Heaven?”

Smiling, you shook your head. So, he was the hopeful type. “No. This is only the threshold between your Life and what comes after this. Come.”

He followed behind you as you led the way down a very well worn path, the grass and flowers long gone. Even the top soil had been eroded away, leaving an almost polished alabaster stone path exposed. You led him down the path towards a creek, a bridge, born from the over grown roots of many trees, running over it.

“What… What is this?”

“Like this Forest and me, it has no name. But, I suppose humans would think of it as something like the River Styx. It’s a threshold into the Afterlife.”

His voice was strained as he looked between you and the bridge. “What — What comes next?”

You sighed, gazing at him in sympathy. You hated this question. “I don’t know.”

His anger fueled gazed turned its wrath upon you as he cried, “What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I’m a Spirit of Death. I am bound forever to this plane, this side of the threshold between Life and what comes next. I cannot ever know what is beyond this point. But, I can tell you that you will not cease to exist. There is something after this. I just don’t know what it is.”

He seemed to have calmed down a bit. “Can I wait for my wife?”

You shook your head. “If you wait here, your soul will become restless. You’ll forget who you are. You’ll wreak havoc not only here, but also in the human world. You’ll be condemned to wander for eternity until one of my kind must Reap your soul.”

He glanced at the saber at your hip, understanding your meaning. “And your wife will not have you with her.”

He swallowed, absorbing what you’re saying. “So… do I just crossover? And that’s it?”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yes. I’ve heard that supposedly, someone will be on the other side of the creek to greet you.”

He saluted you, one final time before he headed for the bridge. You stood there, watching him as he found his footing on the bridge. Your Shroud and Sickle slowly returned to their natural form, your body shifting as well back to its natural state.

As he walked further and further away, he began to glow, his luminosity increasing, a light that almost rivaled the sun until… he disappeared. The thread of your Shroud connecting you to him snapped, the sound as sudden and as loud as thunder. It took you awhile, but you at least no longer jumped at the sound.

Walking forward, you reached your hand out towards the bridge. You stopped just short of it, your hand shaking as you slowly tried to cross over that threshold, muscle memory reminding you that this wasn’t a good idea. And just as it had the few dozen thousand times before, the barrier zapped you, forcing you to retract your hand. You hissed, holding onto your slightly burnt fingertip as you glared at the barrier that now shimmered and rippled.

“I see you still haven’t learnt your lesson.”

You jumped, turning to face Hermes. He stood before you, intimidating and beautiful as always, this form suiting him well… even if the sight of him set you on edge.

Ebony skin glowed, a stark contrast to his billowy white cloak. His hood framed his lovely face as he looked down at you, almost making him appear angelic. And in a way, he was. At least in the sense that humans would think of him. It instead set you on edge when he changed his form to be… more ‘approachable.’ Like everything else here, he had no name — instead choosing to take on various mythical mantles: Hermes, Azrael, the Grim, Charon, Anubis, and so many others. You knew him as Hermes.

From his back emerged a pair of large, iridescent, black wings, the feathers fluttering with the wind. You couldn’t help but notice how a couple of the feathers were barely hanging on, signally that once they’d fall from his wings, new Spirits of Death would rise from them.

Bowing your head, you said, “No, Lord Hermes. But I want to answer their question. Almost all of them ask me the same thing over and over again.”

His deep voice rumbled, “And I wish I could give you that answer. But I cannot. I do not know what lies beyond the Veil. And we will never know.”

You nodded in understanding. The same answer… as always. He continued, “I heard that you do not want to accept my gift. Why is that?”

You cringed. You completely forgot about that. Silent, you hesitated to answer.

He sighed. “What are you afraid of? Is it answering the question of what comes next? Are you afraid of rejection? Are you afraid to Live?”

You shot him a glare. You hated this. Hated that he knew. Hated the fact that Hermes was connected to all of you, knowing your deepest, darkest secrets. All because he shed you as a Feather.

He smirked at you, crossing his arms across his chest. “Ah… I see. You’re afraid to Live.”

You hissed back, “I can’t live! I was never alive to begin with.”

“You are very much alive, my child. You just have to go and discover it.” He waved his hand, a gust of wind spiraled around you. Instinct took over, raising your arms to shield your face from the cyclone of wind and leaves. But still, you glared daggers at Hermes as he took away your choice once more.

Irony dripped from his lips as he muttered, “Happy Birthday.”

—~—~—~—

The sky was still dark in Seoul. The sun hasn’t risen yet. But you could see the sky taking on intense shades of blue and grey — the world quiet and still outside of the temple you found yourself in.

With a groan, you stood up from the cold wooden floor, goosebumps rising on your skin uncontrollably. You shivered. At least when you weren’t masquerading as human temperature never bothered you.

“Ahh. I thought her vision didn’t sound quite right. I’ll go get you a different set of clothes.”

Turning around, you came face to face with the caretaker of the temple, a young priest. Slightly bowed, his obsidian black hair barely hid the darting of his eyes, looking everywhere but you. He was dressed in a simple, traditional hanbok as he stood there, a pile of red clothes in his arms.

Ahh…. A seer must have mistaken you for some other kind of spirit. Some sort of Pyro or Asmod if the colors and style were anything to go by.

The priest continued to look everywhere but you. You tilted your head in curiosity before you remembered — oh, humans and their modesty. Glancing down at yourself, you noted breasts and the small patch of hair upon your mons pubis. Oh, good. At least this time you’re in your preferred form it seems.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Thank you, Priest — ?”

“Jinyoung. Park Jinyoung.”

You smiled at him, covering up yourself as much as possible, for his sake. You didn’t particularly care. “Thank you, Jinyoung-ie. And yes,” You glanced at the clothes he held tightly in his hands. “I would like a different set of clothes.”

He gave you a curt nod before scurrying off to get you something more appropriate.

You sighed.

24 hours. 24 hours of being human. The last time you were human… you were in Venice. Boy was that an interesting time with the Renaissance and all. Had… had it really been that long?

There was a knock on the door. This time it was a girl’s voice. “Grim? I’ve brought you your clothes. I’d also like to apologize for the mistake in my vision.”

Grim. Out of all the things humans called your kind… it wasn’t the kindest… nor the most horrendous.

“Come in.”

The door opened and a girl entered, her gaze was to the ground as she held a bundle of light grey clothing. She looked young, perhaps no older than 20. Certainly not of the age to know exactly what she was seeing in her visions. She had no control of what she’d see. She would probably just be finishing learning how to identify various demons and spirits from her visions if you had to take a guess.

She knelt before you, laying the clothes on the ground before bowing. “My name is Chaewon. I’d like to apologize, Grim. It was my mistake that my brother brought you the wrong type of clothes.”

You picked up the bundle of clothing, starting to dress yourself. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re the youngest seer I’ve seen in a very long time. I’m curious though, what did you see?”

Chaewon looked down, her face flushed and she turned red all the way to her ears. Oh?

Her voice shook. “I... I saw a man. He was naked. His face covered in shadows. And he made,” she paused, turning even redder before she continued, “a noise. A very… happy noise.”

“Oh.”

You felt your own face heat.

You may have lived for well over a millennia, but you still had some sense of shame. Or at least hers made you hyperaware of your own. As you finished dressing, you replied, “In that case, I don’t blame you for thinking I was an Asmod. A vision like that… I don’t know if I would have chosen any differently.”

“But I should’ve —“

“How old are you?”

You knelt down in front of her, your simple cotton dress pooling slightly around you as you knelt to get down on Chaewon’s level. She finally looked you in the eye. A small thrill went through you — the Living never looked you in the eye.

“Seventeen.”

Just as you thought. “You’re young. Younger than I would have expected. Despite your age, you interpreted what you saw well. If you saw sex, anyone would assume that it were an Asmod or some other daemon.”

She did not look reassured. You continued. “Do you what my kind typical do on our one day amongst the Living?”

She quickly shook her head. You smirked a little.

“We wander. The one day we’re allowed to interact with the Living, we tend to do what we did before: observe. Perhaps, we’d join in on festivities. Perhaps, we spend the day at a park, watching children play. Perhaps, we play with them. But sex? Sex is not something we are particularly interested in. You interpreted correctly.”

She didn’t say anything, but you knew she understood — that she didn’t make a real mistake. She interpreted what she saw correctly. But what she saw… concerned you. Why? Why you would you have… sex? It was such a… human activity. Your kind, especially those who had yet to live a Lifetime, didn’t understand it. It wasn’t like you could reproduce, so it never really made sense to you.

Your quiet moment was broken by Jinyoung clearing his throat. You looked up at him, he had changed into ordinary clothes. “Grim? Please let me know where’d you like me to take you. I’ll take you anywhere in the city.”

Standing up, you nodded. “Thank you, Priest. Lead the way.”

You made your way past Chaewon, following the young priest down the hall. He brought you to an entryway, several cubicles lined up with shoes. He indicated for you to take a pair. As you sat down to slip on a pair of black, flat ankle boots, he rejoined you. When did he disappear?

In his hand, he held a bag. “These are for you, Grim. Inside you’ll find money and other amenities you’ll need.”

You took the bag from him, looking at the contents. “I’m surprised you’re able to give me this much. Especially since I’ll only be here a day.”

He shook his head. “The Guardian Spirit of this temple makes sure that when you return to the Veil, the things we gave you find their way back here in due time. There is no need to worry.”

Smiling, you nodded. You stood up, ready to follow him. Nodding, he lead you out to a car. It wasn’t the fanciest car in the world, certainly not one of those sports cars you never bothered learning about. But it looked well taken care of.

Jinyoung opened the passenger side door for you. You nodded to him in thanks as you slipped inside. After shutting your door, he quickly made his way to the driver’s side.

After a brief explanation on how and why you should be wearing a seatbelt (How were you suppose to know that, at the very least, you could get him in trouble if you didn’t wear one?), he drove you out of the temple.

“Where would you like me to take you?”

Biting your lip, you hesitated to answer. Did you want to see him? Or did you want to avoid him completely. Before you could completely think it through, you found yourself replying, “Jung-gu. Near the hospital.”

He made a small noise of confirmation, taking you towards the district.

—~—~—~—

The drive was longer than you had expected. Who knew Seoul traffic was so congested?

Glancing out the window, you caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time, nearly jumping out of your skin. Normally, you had no reflection. The rare times you’d ever see your own reflection would be if you caught a glimpse of it mirroring you in the creek back in the Forest. Staring at yourself in the passenger side mirror, you couldn’t help but touch your face, brow knit together in concentration.

“So it’s true then.”

The sound of Jinyoung’s voice made you jump. Phoenix farts, why were you so jumpy lately? Turning to him, you noted the smirk on his lips and figured that behind those sunglasses his eyes were full of mirth.

“Is what true?”

“That you don’t see your reflections.”

You swallowed. “Rarely. Very rarely. Even when we do… they’re not quite as… solid as they when we’re occasionally human.”

He made a small noise of understanding, turning his full attention back on the road. Outside of the car, for a brief moment, between the shadows of buildings, you caught a glimpse of the hospital. It was an unusual feeling, but your heart thundered in your chest. You couldn’t tell if you were excited or scared. A part of you wanted to beg Jinyoung to take you somewhere else in the city. Anywhere. But another part of you, the stronger part, wanted to be there, to be near him.

All too soon, Jinyoung pulled into a parking space. You struggled for a moment, thinking that just tugging on the seatbelt would set you free before putting two and two together that there was a button. Heat flared up in your cheeks out of embarrassment — such an unusual feeling, not one that you’re sure you’ll ever get used to, you don’t think. Stepping out of the car, you politely bowed, ready to walk away from Jinyoung.

It’s a shame really… even as a human you would have been able to see the thread wrapped around his hand, following the pattern of his life line if he was a soul you were to collect. You would have liked to speak to him once again.

“Saja-nim!”

You paused. There was one you hadn’t heard in a while. A rather polite one at that. “Yes, Priest?”

His gaze was almost painful as he looked you in the eye. It was unnerving really — having someone looking directly at you like this. With utter certainty, as if he just knew, he cryptically said, “I look forward to speaking with you again.”

Before you could inquire further as to exactly what he meant, he reached across the passenger and pulled the car door shut and practically shot out of the parking space like a bat out of hell. What a weird priest.

Stepping away from the street, you took in your surroundings. The sun was out, filtering through the buildings of Seoul, this part of the city still relatively quiet though, still just early enough for most people to have not quite left home for work. It was peaceful. It was Life. And you could close your eyes, take a deep breath, and take it all in — truly take it in.

A piercing cry of “COCO-YAH!!!” broke your peace and quiet.

Turning towards the voice, you lost your footing as small white ball of fuzz on four legs bolted towards you, or rather, attempting to bolt past you. Attempting was the operative word. As you teetered backwards, sort of regaining your footing, the almost panicked ringing of a bicycle bell was the only warning you got before making eye contact with a startled bicyclist.

If you weren’t fighting instinct, perhaps you would have moved. But time and time against, you never had to worry about moving — danger would just move right through you.

But not now.

No, your brain had shut down in shock. Of course you would get hurt the one day you were human.

Before the cyclist could collide with you, you were harshly pulled out of his way. Instead of someone colliding into you… you were the one doing the colliding.

Foot catching on uneven cobblestone, your center of mass shifted, your body landing against a very warm, soft, yet very solid body, nearly taking him to the ground.

A sweet voice, one that sent shivers down you spine — one that you almost dreadfully recognized — asked, “Are you ok?”

Hesitantly, you looked up, holding your breath, trying to imprint this memory of his warm hold on you forever into your skin. When yours eyes met… you finally understood what Jaebeom was talking about.

You were absolutely and utterly fucked.

It was the moon-like face you’d seen from a distance more times than you could count. Except unlike the moon, he was close enough to worship with your lips if you tried. From afar you had always thought he was handsome, but up close, he was deadly — the combination of soft and sharp features were too tempting and dangerous.

Your eyes flicked for a moment to his lips, his breath faltering for a moment across your face before you dared to finally look him in the eye.

Definitely fucked. Hopeless fucked, really.

His eyes were gentle, in spite of their sharp, intense shape. So curious. So full of concern. And there was something else. You had seen it before, though you couldn’t place it where. All you knew was that you could get lost in those eyes… and happily so.

The spell was broken as his large wire-framed round glasses slowly slipped down the bridge of his nose. You pulled away from his hold, regaining your footing as you cleared your throat, hoping to buy another moment to clear your mind. Get a hold of yourself, you said you wouldn’t get involved with him. But, oh, the thought was so very tempting.

Your voice cracked. “Ye — Yes. Thank you for catching me.”

He nodded, wiping his hands on his pants, almost unsure of himself. At your feet, a couple of small barks got your attention. The little white dog from earlier was at your feet, barking, her little tail wagging as she gazed up at Dr. Choi.

Dr. Choi exclaimed, “COCO-YAH!!!!!” as he picked up the little, almost contrary, cotton ball.

Lifting her up to eye level, he asked, “Yah! What was that for? I lose my grip on your leash for a moment to grab the mail and you just bolt? No! Don’t you try that sweet act on me, you spoilt, little princess.”

He sighed in defeat as she wagged her tail, tongue flicking out to lick his nose, his face scrunching up cutely in response. You couldn’t help but laugh as he brought her in close, coddling her even as he continued to look exasperatedly annoyed.

He turned his gaze back on you, his eyes soft as he took a moment to wet his lips. He held his hand out to you. “I’m Choi Youngjae. And this little, fluffy, white hell spawn is Coco.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

This was the last thing you needed. You swallowed, a poor attempt at controlling your breathing. You placed your hand in his.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

There was a pause for a moment before Youngjae — no — Dr. Choi (he had to stay as Dr. Choi), smiled gently at you. Bending at the hips, he lowered himself just enough so he could tilt his gaze up to look up at you, a small smile on his lips as he cutely asked, “And what is your name?”

The usual spike of anxiety that would come with this question never came. Instead, automatically, almost as if you had answer this questions hundreds of time like a human, you gave him a name.

Not Morana. Nor Saja. But an actual name. It was… your name.

He repeated it quietly to himself. It struck you like lightning. This must be the feeling Jaebeom told you about so many times but never understood.

For a moment it was silent between the two of you. You wanted this feeling to last, whatever it was. You had never known such an inner warmth. What you wouldn’t give to have him whisper your name once more.

Of course, Coco had to ruin the moment, having had enough. She started wriggling around in his hold, desperately wanting to be free to reek havoc like she had before. Dr. Choi sighed, bending down further to place her back on the ground. A firm hold on the leash this time.

As he straightened up, he looked at you shyly from behind his glasses. “So, umm, where are you from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before?”

You swallowed. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d have to answer such a simple question.

You blurted out, “Visting! Umm, just for the day.”

“Well, umm, I guess I should let you get back to it then. I’m sure you must have plans.”

He went to turn, his shoulders slumping. “No!”

Dr. Choi turned back to you, eyes wide and eyebrow raised at your outburst. More calming you repeated, “No. Umm, actually, I don’t have plans. Despite wanting to come here for a while now….” You laughed out your response, “I have no idea what I’m going to do now that I’m here.”

A moment of clarity graced his features before the brightest smile you had ever seen revealed itself.

“In that case, how would you like a local to show you around?”

A smile found its way onto your lips. “I’d like that very much.”

He offered you his hand. You hesitated, glancing between the soft and dexterous hand and his hopeful face. “I know a great dog friendly cafe near by if you’d like to join me.”

You found yourself squeaking out a reply, barely above a whisper, “I’d love to.”

You placed your hand in his and for a moment, you swore sparks flew. His palm was warm, a stark contrast to your own chilly one. Dr. Choi gave a small laugh. You glanced up to him, brows knit. He licked his lips almost nervously before he shyly replied, “It’s just something my mother used to tell me: the kindest, most caring people are so worried about everyone else that they don’t even notice when their hands are cold.”

For some reason… him just saying that… it created a pressure in your chest, an almost overwhelming feeling, as if you were a pitcher ready to overflow with emotion. It was… it was gentlest thing anyone had ever said to you.

You felt the tears threatening to overflow, but you kept them hidden. After all, why would anyone cry at that?

All you could do was purse your lips as you look down at the ground, half-heartedly nodding your head, hoping that it was enough to hide the emotion threaten to escape. If Dr. Choi noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply made a hum of acknowledgement, squeezing your hand before gently tugging you to an unspecified direction.

Little Coco couldn’t seem to make up her mind on whether or not she wanted to be carried or to lead the charge. Either way, Youngj — Dr. Choi — seemed to give in to her each time, never letting go of your hand no matter what. Coco was in his arms when she realized where we were and she started swimming frantically in the air, barking excitedly.

You couldn’t help but giggle as Dr. Choi sighed in defeat, setting the little hellion on the ground as she tried to mush her way through the people trying to go about their lives as she focused in on one target: MeongMeong Cafe.

The little cafe was on the ground floor, almost tucked away between the buildings, the light pastels and sepia tones a strong contrast to the grey buildings around it. The sun rise hadn’t quite yet turned this part of the city golden, the tones still a cool blue, just waiting to be woken by the spell of the sun. But that little cafe, with its little picket fence surrounding a small area of grass and it’s sepia shingles waiting for the sun to bring them to life, was already bustling to life inside. The cafe owner you presumed, was running about inside, setting up tables for the day and placing bread in the display cases.

As you approached the cafe, through the window, you saw the cafe owner look up, a look of surprise graced his features before a gummy smile took over as he opened the front door to the three of you. “Youngjae-yah!! Coco-ssi!! Welcome back!”

Dr. Choi returned the warm greeting, letting go of hand for a moment to wave at him, leaving your hand almost unbearably cold. “Hello, Mark-hyung! How’s it’s going?”

Coco’s barks suddenly came more rapidly as she pulled Dr. Choi after her even harder as a small (but most definitely larger than Coco), white poodle looked around the corner of the door. The shop owner, Mark, muttered something as he looked down at the dog at his feet, prompting the dog to sit down at him feet, its little paws tapping in excitement as it sat there.

Mark shook his head with an exasperated sigh, smiling slightly as Coco continued to lead the charge towards the cafe. “You know how it is, Youngjae-yah. But that’s besides the point.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Who is this lovely lady?”

Your face flushed with heat and you couldn’t help but look down at your shoes. Youngjae — no, Dr. Choi — gently entangled his fingers within your own, giving your hand a very gentle squeeze in assurance. He introduced you to Mark. “She’s from out of town and I’m giving her the local’s tour of the city.”

Mark’s eyes crinkled in the corner as he shot you a smile. “Then welcome to MeongMeong Cafe.”

You muttered your thanks as Dr. Choi led you inside to a table in the corner.

Sitting down, you noted that the cafe was the same on the inside as it was on the outside with pastel and sepia colors furniture all over the place. Nothing was a matching set it seemed, almost like repurposed yard sale items, but all dog friendly. In the corner of the shop was a blackboard, the menu items scrawled across it in different colors with their prices trailing after it.

Mark wiped his hands on his apron before pulling out a notepad from his apron pocket, the poodle (while Dr. Choi affectionately greeted as ‘Mimi’) following him, seemingly waiting for a command. He shot Dr. Choi an almost pointed look. “The usual for you and the cottonball, I take it?”

Dr. Choi glanced sheepishly at you before turning his gaze back to Mark. “Yeah.”

Mark hummed his understanding and jotted it down then turned to you. “And for the lovely lady?”

Your insides clenched in anxiety? What did you want? You looked past the two of them at the chalkboard covered in what felt like hundreds of choices. Did you want something sweet? Savory? Salty? Sour? Did you like bitter? 500 years was a long time between meals.

Dr. Choi placed his hand over yours, grabbing your attention. “If you’re up for it, I suggest the mocha latte and the croissant of the day.”

Mark piped in, “Which is Eggs Benedict, by the way.”

You swallowed looking between the two of them. “Um, then I will go with that then.”

“Alright then. Come on, Milo.”

Mark smiled as he jotted down your orders on his little notepad before making his way back towards what you supposed was the kitchen, Milo hot on his heels. You turned your attention back to Dr. Choi and you found yourself shrinking in on yourself, blushing under the intensity of his gaze.

Is this what it was like to be human? Is this what Jaebeom felt like? To feel constantly overwhelmed?

“Since you mentioned that this was the first time in Seoul for you, where do you live?”

For a moment your reply caught in your throat. Nowhere, just a forest between life and death.

“Busan! Yes, it took quite a while to get here.”

Dr. Choi smiled. “Ahhh. An overnight train ride then. I love Busan: the architecture, the food!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. He leaned back in his chair as he hummed. “And the people, so it seems.”

You knew that wasn’t true, but nonetheless, heat rose to your cheeks like an inferno. Youngjae — no, stop it — Dr. Choi asked, “Tell me about what you do for a living?”

Yeah… ‘living.’ Laughable.

Chewing on your bottom lip for a moment, you thought on how to answer it. “I’m in the family business.”

Dr. Choi sat forward, interest piqued as Mark returned with two coffees on adorable little plates, decorated with watercolor paw prints. “What does your family do?”

Before you could think better on it, you spat out, “Funerary services: cremations, burials, wakes, and the likes.”

Mark… poor Mark paused, his expression unreadable before he quietly excused himself. Dr. Choi on the other hand surprised you; he laughed. You stared at him, jaw slack and brow knit.

“I’m sorry…. I shouldn’t have laughed. I found it ironic. You give souls their final farewells while I welcome them into the world.”

Again, your heart gave a stuttering tap as a tsunami of emotion washed over you. How could he know the words you needed to hear? Or at least the ones that made you feel real at the very least. You took a sip of your coffee to try to distract yourself from the squall of emotion in your chest, only to hiss as you burn your tongue.

Dr. Choi is immediately at your side. “You ok?”

You touched the back of your hand to your mouth, looking away. “Yes, I was just being stupid.”

He laughed again and you couldn’t help but shoot him a pointed look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Just that, some times watching you do things is like watching a child discovering something new for the first time.” He smiled down at you sweetly. “I think it’s endearingly adorable.”

Your throat felt try and your face hot and your chest felt heavy. Adorable? You? You looked away from him, trying to appear as if his words didn’t do anything to you. As if your attention was taken up by something else on the far side of the shop.

But out of the corner of your eye, as he raised his own cup of coffee to his lips, there was a twinkle of mischief and mirth in his eye. Taking a chance, you lifted your own cup to your lips, blowing on it before taking a tentative sip. Immediately you hummed in appreciation. It was delicious.

Mark came back over with another set of adorable plates, one was your croissant (looking absolutely delicious covered in Hollandaise sauce) and Dr. Choi’s waffle. From the pocket of his apron he produced some sort of gourmet dog chew setting it down on the ground for Coco to try to conquer. You thanked Mark, who gave you a gracious but overly exaggerated bow before he excused himself.

You turned back to Dr. Choi as you mentally went over a game plan on how to tackle your delicious looking (and smelling) food. “You said you welcome souls into the world. What do you mean by that?”

You knew what he did. Did it count as stalking if you’re not alive and they’re just a form of entertainment between reapings? But you had the forethought to be mindful of that. You didn’t want this illusion to burst by muttering something suspicious.

He hid a small laugh as he took a bite of his waffle. “You promise not to laugh?”

You mimicked the way he cut into his waffle, the same way with your croissant, albeit it didn’t go as smoothly as his. “Promise.”

He took a moment to chew, almost thoughtfully before he said, “I’m, uh, well… I’m an OB/GYN. I deliver babies.”

You smiled at him as he tried to hide his blush behind shoveling food into his mouth. Barely above a whisper, you replied, “I think it suits you perfectly.”

He shot you a brilliant smile, looking away from you as his cheeks began to glow a nice shade of pink. As you sat there in the golden hours of the morning, you admired his features, realization dawned on you.

You were hopelessly in love with Youngjae.

Want more like this? Check out the following:

STAR-CROSSED, a science fiction series with Jackson Wang of GOT7

As always, reviews, comments, asks, and tags are always loved! ~Peony

Also, please note that I do NOT do tagging lists. Please see my FAQ for why.

GOT7 Masterlist

Masterlist

#got7 #got7 youngjae #youngjae #choi youngjae #youngjae got7 #got7 fluff #got7 angst #Beyond the Veil #BtV #peonybane #got7 jinyoung #got7 jaebeom #got7 bambam #got7 yugyeom #got7 mark

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universal-kitty · 3 years

Text

Interest Check!!

So I was thinking about reopening commissions again, getting those set up...and I’ve been thinking. I’ve really liked the idea of doing F/O letters (fictional other, is the definition for those unfamiliar) for people. However- especially in times like these- it’s hard to justify doing it for free, when energy is limited.

So! With that in mind, I’m thinking of trying out F/O Letters [Email Edition]. For those interested...

Probably gonna start the price at $15 || $5 cheaper than my fics

Back and forth letters CAN be a thing. Will be charged per response. IDK what the price on that is yet.

Will only be accepting fandoms I know (for now; fandoms I don't know will eventually be an option, but more 'spensive bc I will have to research it...I’m dedicated to accuracy)

this will eventually work towards the physical media aspect I wanted to do from the start (hand written letters + a few self-care goodies; self care packages later....maybe)

I am also tempted to do a "G'raha Fund" where you can request the comm payment to go towards it; literally is just going towards getting me a G'raha plush to carry around with me for Comfort Reasons (for those unaware, I’ll put it under the read more)

Otherwise, all money will be set aside for me to move into my own apartment

For those who want to take a look at my comm sheet, here! (I’ll try to make a more easy-to-read/follow format when I re-work it...)

My writing tag is Aki Stories, if you’d like to see how I write!

Looking to open up in about a week’s time.

As said, it’ll be done through email! Forms (that tell me about your OC/self insert) will be submitted that way and you’ll get your letters that way, too.

As said, I’ll currently be only accepting fandoms that I am also into, as that guarantees that I know the fandom very well and can promise not only quality, but a quick delivery!

If anyone wants the fandom list, send me an ask! If you’d like, reblog to spread the word!! But that aside... Gonna put down what happened fairly recently below the Read More, as it’ll explain my situation and the rather silly sounding “G’raha Fund,” LMAO.

(...seriously, transphobia/enbyphobia ahead.)

So prior to November of last year, I’d been living in a mentally taxing environment. Four younger siblings, a stepdad who was racist, LGBTphobic (just...overall, to everyone in that community), and pushed his religion onto the people around him. My mother was marginally better, but I now realize...was still unsupportive of me in the way that I needed it. (As well who was one of those “Old Allies” who prided herself on having gay friends and going with them to Pride, but also deciding to make some questionable comments. But I won’t get into that.)

The important bit is that in November, I decided I was sick of being stressed day in and day out. I knew my stepdad wouldn’t approve of me, my mom had tried assuring me he’d “still love and support me,” but I wasn’t buying that for a minute. Especially because I wanted to talk about it, and the time never came up. So. I made it happen.

Only to hear my mother balk at trying to use singular they/them pronouns (”that doesn’t make sense” according to her) and refuse to use them for me. Ignoring outright that I also offered up he/him pronouns; it was simply too hard for her to comprehend and she wouldn’t budge.

Stepdad overheard the conversation and it got worse; he confirmed my fears. Saying I was always going to be my birth gender, he thinks I hate my body...and then spun it back to himself. Y’know, he feels very attacked for being the only religious adult here. Is he next on the chopping block?

My boyfriend got me out of there. I haven’t gone back since, nor will I ever. “My” room has already been cleared out for one of my younger sisters.

There was a lot of other awful things going on there, but I won’t get into it. The point is...it was bad, and I need to make sure I never go back there. Better yet, move into an apartment where I can stay during the day, while my boyfriend is at work.

These past few months, I’ve finally been able to have a place to stay... With my dad. (Prior to that, it was hiding out at cafes and occasionally my boyfriend’s work, when not getting a room under his discount. They’ve since gotten rid of employee discounts.) However, he is of the mind that I wasn’t “accepting” enough of my stepdad; things would’ve been better if I was. As well, I’m not “bad at math” I’m just not trying hard enough... Which is bullshit and I’d sure know it.

So even though it’s a great place to stay....and I’m not allowed to be at home alone under his own dad’s rules... It’s still not great.

The “G’raha Fund” will let me carry around my current inspiration (LOL) as a comfort item. I don’t have a shop in particular that I’m looking at- if anything, I have about 4 to 5 shops I’m eyeing- but the fund will likely cap at $100, giving me enough room to buy the plush and (hopefully) covering any S+H charges, too. Any remaining money from the G’raha Fund will just go to my bank and to the original plans: funding for an apartment. (And helping pay bills once I’m there.)

#Aki speaks #self insert #self ship #ffxiv #(14 gets a special tag bc it's my hyperfocus)#(let me write letters to you lot....let me)#ANYWAYS this IS just an interest check #so rbs and likes VERY appreciated!!!!#please let me know if this is something #you'd be willing to pay for!!#details will be hammered out further in the coming days

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Shatter pt. 8

Summary: Finally, after nearly two long years spent scared and alone, you’re reunited with your Michael. And now that Michael has you back, his final plans can finally be set in motion.

Word Count: 4438

A/N: Folks, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for--SMUT! Woohoo! Thanks for putting up with me and my weird updating schedule lately. Finals suck, school sucks, I just wanna drop out and live alone in a little cabin in the woods. Anyways, feedback is always appreciated, and I would love if you would drop a comment or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter!

The night involves a lot of you and Michael reacquainting yourselves with each other’s bodies; your lover’s stamina is truly unmatched. You don’t exactly remember falling asleep, but you realize you must have when your eyes flutter open and you yawn. Stretching your arms above your head, you groan quietly at the popping that your joints make. The feeling of feather-light touches on your arm makes you tilt your head to the side, a lazy smile appearing on your face when you see Michael. He’s always had a bad habit of watching you while he waits for you to wake up, requiring less sleep than the average human.

“Good morning. Or...whatever time it is.” You murmur, goosebumps appearing on the flesh where Michael draws intricate designs.

“It’s technically morning.”

“I hate it here, there’s no way to tell what time it truly is. For all we know it could be midnight and Venable could have set the clocks forward eight hours.” You grumble, carding your fingers through Michael’s tangled locks.

“We only need to spend a couple more days here, my angel, and then we’ll be on our way to the Sanctuary.”

“Oh? Have you made your selections already?”

“The only ‘selection’ you need to worry about is yours.”

“Well, Mr. Langdon? Do I pass?” You smirk. In a split second you’re on your back, Michael propping himself up above you.

“Hmm, what do you think?” Your eyes light up when he surges down to kiss you, hands immediately tangling in his long hair.

“This still doesn’t feel real.” You note when Michael pulls back to lay soft kisses on your neck.

“What doesn’t feel real?”

“This. Being with you, having my memories back, all of it.”

“However could I possibly help to convince you that you’re truly here?” Michael questions, smiling cheekily at you.

“Well...oh!” Your back arches when Michael’s sneaky hand makes contact with your bare core. “That’s...that’s definitely a good start.”

Michael looks up briefly from your breasts, where he’s currently working at sucking a hickey into the already-bruised skin. You nearly come when he winks at you, dipping back down to bite your nipple while he continues to gather your wetness with his hand. He shoots you a confused glance when you gain control of your limbs long enough to pull him up towards you.

“I just need to be with you.” You explain, avoiding eye contact with him. You know your cheeks are pink, you can feel the heat rising off of your skin at your declaration.

Your sexual relationship with Michael has never been the softest thing. You like when he’s rough, and he likes taking control. It’s an off night if you don’t have any bruises on your skin and you haven’t cum so many times that you can’t even form sentences, at least in Michael’s opinion. But you had your share of that last night. Whether it be a post-sleep haze, or having gotten over the initial euphoria of remembering your lover, you just want him close to you. Your eyes flicker back to Michael when he places his thumb against your full bottom lip, a soft smile on his face.

“Say no more.”

A slow kiss follows while he enters you easily, your body fitting against his like two pieces of a puzzle. You both pause, savoring the feeling of completion before rocking your bodies against each other. Michael’s movements are languid as he lays open-mouthed kisses on your face and neck. His movements are something that have always captivated you, you manage to muse while holding tightly to Michael’s neck. Everything about him is calculated, all the way down to how he holds himself. He oozes power, strength, and something that sends most people cowering the moment he walks into a room.

Not with you, however.

With you, Michael’s uncharacteristically soft. Every touch is delicate, as if he fears you’ll break into pieces the moment his hands caress your skin. When you and he first started dating, you could see the brief flash of fear in his eyes whenever your hand would brush against his. He’s never said it out loud, but you know Michael from the inside-out. He’s worried that you’ll disappear, a mirage sent by his father to tempt him. Surely something as heaven-sent as you could never have crossed paths with something as evil as him, Michael had pondered once during a late night spent in each other’s embraces, long before the thought of witches being slaughtered had ever even crossed his mind.

“Where did you go?” Michael’s voice jars you out of your head, your eyes focusing back on him.

“I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

You shrug. “About how much I love you.”

Michael has a way of making everything he does look utterly angelic. You suppose that’s the irony in it all: the deadly beauty that Satan’s son possesses, meant to lure unsuspecting victims right into his clutches. The beautiful smile that splits across his face, along with the light pink that dusts his cheeks, could easily send you into an early grave. You can’t help but to smile back at him, ducking your face into the pillow bunched up against your head in mild embarrassment.

“Angel, I can promise you that there is nothing in the entire universe that I love more than you.”

A moan slips past your lips when he nips playfully at your jaw, hips pivoting and hitting the spot deep within you that makes stars burst in front of your eyes. His pace picks up, enough to where both of you are gasping out terms of endearment.

“Do you,” Michael’s interrupted by a deep groan, “do you remember the first time I made love to you?”

You nod breathlessly, eyes meeting his own cerulean ones. “Of course I do.”

Flashes of your first time together play through your mind: the soft blonde curls that framed his face like a halo, the quiet noises that slipped out against your wills, having to be as silent as possible so as not to have one of the many wary witches and warlocks investigate and come upon Michael’s room, and the shy clumsiness of it all. This isn’t Michael’s old room, thankfully; you’re not sure you could handle the embarrassment of reliving getting caught by both of your head teachers. The soft tendrils of magic that are so entwined in this building that they might as well have been built into the foundation, however, are. They’ve always been the same, welcoming you home like an old friend who you hadn’t seen in quite some time.

“I was just as entranced with you then as I am now.” Your back arches when his hand, which had sneakily been sliding down your body, makes contact with your clit.

You can tell that Michael’s close, the intense rhythm that he set faltering as his hips snap desperately against yours. Your veins burn with the fire that courses through them, and you lock your legs around Michael’s waist to urge him to go faster. Michael whines almost pitifully, pressing his lips against yours in the hopes that you’ll swallow the sound of his vulnerability. You pull away, wanting to see him lose it as you clench around him.

“Cum for me, Michael.” You mumble, brushing a hand through his hair.

The words you utter have him throwing his head back, almost yelling out as his cock pulses inside of you. His hips slam against you one last time, holding you in place while he finally releases. Michael’s always been one to test his endurance, continuing this tradition as he continues to fuck into while he’s still coming down from his high. The combination of him orgasming inside you and his hand, which has still been working relentlessly against your clit, has you cumming moments later. A high-pitched moan is the only sound you can make while you shake against Michael, the aftershocks of your own orgasm causing you to jolt up into his arms.

You hold each other for a while, Michael laying on your chest while you both attempt to regain a normal breathing pattern. His room is mostly silent, the intermingling sounds of heavy breathing and the crackling fire providing the soundtrack. Time passes in a sluggish pace as you start to doze, groaning when Michael shakes you lightly.

“Ms. Venable will soon be requiring your presence in the dining room. Mandatory breakfast.” Michael notes with a sneer.

“Don’t make me go, I just wanna stay here with you.” You whine, looking down at him with an exaggerated pout.

“I wish I could keep you here, truly. Unfortunately, we must not let anyone catch on to our relationship, at least for the time being.” He kisses the pout right off of your lips.

“Fuckin’ Venable and her stupid fake rules.” You grumble, Michael rolling off of you so that you can sit up.

He props himself up on his arm, watching as you stumble around the room in an attempt to find your clothes.

“Don’t you want to shower first before going back to your room?”

“Hah, because we both know how well that will go.” You jokingly glare at him, seeing right through his ‘innocent’ suggestion. “I’ll see you later though, right?”

You know that Michael sees the fear that briefly flashes through your eyes, making it obvious how terrified you are that he’s just going to disappear once again, along with your memories. He pulls you towards him from where you’re perched on the edge of the bed, trying to roll your stockings up your feet.

“I promise you that we will see each other again today.” He reassures you, stroking your wild hair back from your face. “Now go, I would prefer not to start my day by having that insufferable woman barging in here on her quest to make every resident of this Outpost all the more miserable.”

It’s surprisingly noisy when you finally make your way to the main area of the Outpost, which is noisier than you’ve heard it for the entire eighteen months you’ve been here. You feel a little discombobulated being here now that your memories are back. This place is so much more than an Outpost, but nobody knows that except for you and Michael. Breakfast, better known as the gelatinous cubes you’re forced to choke down, was eliminated last week, so you head towards the library where everyone’s trying to quell the pangs of hunger with water. It falls silent when you walk in, and you smile awkwardly at the stares before remembering that you attempted to sacrifice yourself just last night.

Timothy jumps up and crushes you in a hug, the only sign that he was pistol-whipped being the lump on his forehead. Emily stands slightly behind him, a protective hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He mutters into your ear, pulling away so he can see with his own eyes that you’re actually okay.

“I think I should be the one thanking you, Tim. You knocked the gun out of Mead’s hand.”

“Yeah, we all see how well that went.”

“Ah, and just when we were beginning to get worried.” A cold voice speaks up from the entrance of the library. You turn around to see Ms. Venable herself, smiling tightly at you. “(Y/N), you missed my announcement.”

“Your announcement?” Your voice drips with disdain, your confidence having been boosted immensely now that your memories are back.

“Yes. We will be having a Halloween masquerade party here, tonight. Attendance is, as always, mandatory.” Her smile widens, sending chills down your spine.

“May I ask why we’re suddenly celebrating holidays?” You can’t help but to be a little suspicious; holidays have never been observed here. In fact, they’re often discouraged. The sudden change in Venable’s rules is mildly shocking to you.

“It’s been a very trying few weeks for us, Ms. (Y/L/N). I figured that a little party would be a welcome distraction.” Her eyes sweep across the room, patrolling to make sure everything is to her standards, before she leaves dramatically.

“Where’s Gallant? I’m sure he almost passed out from excitement after he learned there’d be a party.” The easy smile on Emily’s face dims at the mention of your bleach-blond best friend.

“About that…”

Emily barely had time to finish explaining last night’s events before you’re sprinting up the stairs, dress in your hands while you try to make it to Gallant’s room as quickly as possible. The door’s locked, which isn’t too surprising, but you still jiggle the knob in the hope that it will suddenly turn.

“Gal! Let me in before I break this damn door down!” You yell, pounding on the door with an open hand.

Grabbing a bobby pin from your hair you kneel in front of the door, fully prepared to start picking the lock. When you remember that you’re a witch, you toss the bobby pin to the side and just use your magic to unlock the door. You have to hold back the smirk that crosses your face at how easy and familiar the act is, the door opening widely and allowing you to step through. Gallant’s laying on his bed, an arm thrown over his eyes, but he sits up when he hears you close the door behind you.

“How the hell did you get in?”

“I picked the lock.” You lie easily, sitting down next to him. “Emily told me what happened to your Nana.”

“What, how I killed her?” He snorts, shaking his head as tears spring to his eyes for what you’re assuming isn’t the first time.

“No? She said Evie died in her sleep.”

Gallant’s silent for a few minutes, and you let him have his time to think while he attempts to figure out what he wants to say next. Unfortunately, you know all too well what it’s like to grieve for those you’re so close to.

“This is going to sound absolutely fucking insane, but I thought it was Langdon.”

“What?”

“Remember how I told you yesterday about getting fucked by the man in the rubber suit? Well, he showed up again in my room last night. I thought it was Langdon, so when I was on top of him I grabbed a pair of scissors and stabbed him. I heard a noise, and when I looked up Langdon was standing at the door, just like watching me. I looked back to who I thought was Langdon and instead, it was my Nana.” He gets choked up at the end, and you slide your arms around him.

“But...if you stabbed her, how come everyone’s saying that she died of natural causes?”

“I have no clue. Venable and Mead examined the body, and there were no wounds on her.” He rubs his eyes, leaning his head against your shoulder. “Weird shit’s been happening ever since Langdon showed up here, y’know?”

You laugh awkwardly, nodding at what could be considered as the understatement of the year. “Yeah, that’s one way to look at it.”

“Call me on it if I’m wrong, babe, but you’re acting really weird today and I want to know why.”

Gallant shifts so he’s sitting up, looking you in the eyes. “What? No, I’m not.”

“(Y/N), I know you like I know a pair of real Loubs from a pair of knockoff ones. Something’s up.” You hate that he can read you like an open book; being a temporary amnesiac left you vulnerable and needy.

“Um, we’re here so that I can comfort you about Evie, not so that you can psychoanalyze me.”

“Okay, and it’s not like she was the most loving person. She literally tried to get me killed to improve her chances of making it to the Sanctuary. So? Tell me. It’d make me feel better.”

“Ugh, fine! I really hate it when you’re persuasive.”

“Oh, but I’m just so damn good at it.” He looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to go on about why you’ve been acting ‘weird.’

“Well, to put it simply: I got my memories back.”

You cringe slightly, knowing that Gallant’s reaction will go one of two ways. He’ll either provide you with an underwhelming response, a simple shrug and calmly asking you how it happened and what you remember. His other reaction could be to scream with joy, bouncing across the room and chattering about how this is a soap opera for the ages. With Gallant, any information that you tell him could garner a hit-or-miss reaction.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” A grin splits his face so widely that you’re worried he’s going to pull a muscle. “(Y/N)!”

Definitely the latter reaction, then. Still, his infectious behavior spreads to you, watching with glee while Gallant grabs your shoulders and pulls you towards him.

“Tell me everything. You have to! How did you get your memories back? Do you remember everything? Is your name still (Y/N)?” He gasps. “Wait, can I still be your best friend?”

“Whoa, slow your roll. Let’s start with one question at a time.”

“Fine. What do you remember?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?” You nod, smiling.

“I remember it all. Everything that happened to me before I woke up in that apartment.”

“How did you get it back?”

“That’s actually a funny story. You remember how I told you that I thought Langdon was somehow connected with my past?” Gallant slaps the bed, eyes lighting up.

“Shut the fuck up! He is?” You don’t even have time to answer before Gallant is launching into how he believes you’re connected. “Oh my God, he really is your blue-eyed honey! Did you guys have a thing before the amnesia?”

“You could say that…”

“How serious was it?”

“I’d say pretty serious.” Gallant lets out a breathless gasp, clapping a hand over his chest.

“Long-lost lovers? I’m living right now!” Your face flushes bright red as you teasingly smack your best friend.

“Gal!”

“So what brought them back, then?”

Your smile freezes on your face as you think about what to say next. Do you share your secret and out Michael, not only as a wielder of magic, but also as the Antichrist? You know that he would take your secret to the grave, but you also worry that he’ll make it painfully obvious the next time that he sees Michael that he knows what Michael truly is. It’s a risk you’re not willing to take yet, at least until you can talk to him about it.

“I think just being around him, and having one-on-one conversations with him. He also helped me out too, told me some stories of the two of us to try and jog my memories.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also not the truth.

“Gallant, we have-oh, am I interrupting something?” Coco’s shrill voice pierces through the air as she waltzes into Gallant’s room without knocking. You share a quick look before simultaneously plastering fake smiles onto your faces.

“Nope, not at all, (Y/N) and I were just chatting.”

“I can come back later, if you’re still talking.” The pinched look on her face, almost like she just caught a whiff of sour milk, makes it clear that she does not want to wait around for you two to finish.

“You’re fine, I’ve got some stuff to do anyways.” You stand up, but not before giving Gallant a quick hug. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“See you tonight.” You sidle past Coco, who refuses to move even an inch out of the way for you, and make your way back to your room.

Parties have never been something you’ve enjoyed, and that’s extremely obvious while you procrastinate for as long as possible. It takes you an hour to ‘pick out’ what you’re going to wear (a dress that you had modified a long time ago, which Venable had then banned for breaking the rules), and another hour to manage to even put it on. You’re standing in front of the mirror, smoothing out some non-existent wrinkles in your outfit, when a loud knock sounds on the door.

“Come in!” You call, knowing that the only one who ever knocks just once is Ms. Mead.

The short woman promptly enters, standing in the doorway with her hands clasped together. It’s mildly disconcerting, seeing the woman you now remember as a robot who aided in the murder of your sisters standing right in front of you. Still, you put on a polite smile as you turn around to look at her.

“How can I help you, Ms. Mead?”

“Langdon has requested your presence in his quarters. You’re to follow me.” She quickly turns around, missing your silent chuckle and eye roll. Of course he couldn’t handle being without you for more than a few hours.

Ms. Mead does her signature knock once again when you reach Michael’s door, waiting a second before opening it.

“I have (Y/N) here, sir.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mead.” You can’t see him, but his voice lilts through the air like smoke. Entering his room, Ms. Mead closes the door behind you quickly.

Michael’s sitting at his desk, working on his laptop that you’re still uncertain of how it’s still functioning. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, waiting until he looks up at you to kiss him.

“She hasn’t seemed too excited to be reunited with you.” You note, allowing Michael to pull you into his lap.

“I had to wipe her memory before the bombs.”

“Why?”

“It was all a part of my father’s plan.” You hate when he uses that line, but you nod anyways. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. I had redesigned this probably a month after the bombs, and Venable nearly chewed my head off when I wore it. She told me that the next time she caught me in it, she would leave me outside for the cannibals.” You’re not sure if it’s because you stripped all of the lace and frills off of the purple dress or if it’s the lack of sleeves that gets her all fired up, but she was absolutely fuming after she had seen what you did to ‘precious resources.’

“Are you not scared of her now that I’m here?” His self-satisfied smirk falls when you start laughing.

“What, did your invitation not say that it was a costume party and that we’re allowed to get creative?”

“I actually declined the invitation, much to Venable’s chagrin.”

“Oh, she let you do that?”

“You forget, angel, that I outrank her. Not only that, but I also own her.” He nips your jaw playfully, eliciting a giggle from you that has his heart soaring.

“I wish I could just ‘decline’ her invitation.” You sigh, leaning your forehead against his.

“Hmm, another perk to owning this Outpost and those who lead it: I get to decide what is mandatory, and for whom it is mandatory for.”

“You talk like a fuckin’ English duke now, did you know that? When’d you pick that up?”

“I do not!”

“Michael, you literally said ‘whom.’” Michael huffs, rolling his eyes towards the back of his head.

“I tell you that you get to skip out on Venable’s Halloween party, and you choose to mock my dialect?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Thank you for getting me out of going to the party.” His face turns to one of mock surprise, making you want to go back to mocking the way he talks.

“You are so welcome.” He smiles cheekily, standing up with his arms around you. Your legs immediately lock around his waist, letting him carry you to where he wants to go. “I was thinking that we could possibly have our own little party in here tonight.”

Michael sets you down on your feet, and you sit in one of the large chairs by the fireplace while you wait for him to elaborate. He remains silent, instead turning around with two glasses of alcohol. A quick sniff and a small drink confirms that it’s a fine wine, typical of Michael and his lifestyle. He watches your face, smirking as you light up at getting to have something other than water and nutrition cubes. Once he’s satisfied that you’ve had enough, he waves a bejeweled hand in the air.

The overhead lighting goes out, replaced by the soft glow of candles that decorate the room. It reminds you of the quiet nights spent with Michael in his dorm after curfew, having to keep only a single candle lit for fear of being caught. Music fills the room, but you can’t quite pinpoint where it’s coming from since the sound is all around you. You look up when Michael approaches you, a hand outstretched.

“Dance with me.” You used to always dance with him, back when things were simple (simpler, at least) and you only had to worry about passing your hexes exam and making sure Michael didn’t die during the test of the Seven Wonders. Sometimes there wouldn’t even be music playing, it was just two people swaying softly to the soundtrack in their minds. You take Michael’s hand, letting him pull you up.

“Your choices of music haven’t changed in the slightest.” Michael’s always been fond of the ‘older’ music, a habit that, though he would never admit it, he inherited from his grandmother. It’s the type of music that can manage to be specific to any situation you’re in; all soft instrumentals and lyrics about veiled love. It’s very telling that Michael’s favorite type of music tends to fit his personality, at least, the personality that he shows you.

You’re sailing softly through the sun

In a broken stone age dawn...

“Does that surprise you?” He murmurs, drawing you into his embrace. Your hands easily fall to their places, one on his shoulder and the other interlocked with his own hand. Michael tightly grips your waist, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent as he starts to sway with you.

You fly so high…

“Not at all. It’s comforting, actually.”

“How so?”

I get a strange magic

Oh, what a strange magic

Oh, it’s a strange magic…

“Because no matter how much your looks may have changed, or how much confidence you’ve gained to change your demeanor, you’re still the same Michael I fell in love with. My Michael.” You don’t see it, but a tear or two escapes Michael’s eye before he can stop them.

“And you’ve always been my angel, (Y/N).”

Got a strange magic

Got a strange magic.

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tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

On my mind, in my soul - 9

Prompt: Got three things to go by on this from Anon: “Ghost rule” (cover/translation by jubyphonic), Asgard, a necklace. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Cussing, angsting, illness, mention of death etc., family quarrels. All in all a lovely, uplifting chapter once again :P A/N: Well...I caved in and that means you get the full chapter now...let’s see how long before the requirements are met for the next. If you LIKE what you read: please reblog! Or comment? Or send me hugs? (Puppies are also accepted)

The value of a life

I guess I really can’t dodge it this time No law to pardon my crime, no clemency for this evil of mine

Of course, Heimdal had warned the All-Father. A host of Einherjar were standing ready with cuffs, chains, and golden spears the moment Loki’s feet touched solid ground. They’d been rougher than strictly necessary, shoving him to his knees before binding him with magically sealed restraints. Thor couldn’t do much to prevent it unless he wanted to make the situation worse, and besides, the brothers had promised to remain passive throughout this endeavour. Yes, breaching banishment was bound to have certain consequences.

Shoved forwards with both weapons and hard gazes at his back, Loki’s reminded of a similar scene, but this time he makes sure not to smile or talk out of turn, waiting instead till he’s right at the bottom stairs of the throne before sinking to his knees without being ordered to. Maybe it’s the sight of the fallen prince, or perhaps the fact that having Loki around always meant trouble for some one, either way a murmur ripples through the audience that has managed to gather even with the short warning.

An echoing boom of metal against stone silences the room. “Loki Laufeyson,” Odin’s voice holds a tired curiosity, “why have you returned from your banishment, knowing that the penalty might be death?”

As long as another life will be spared. Finally lifting his head to face the man he once thought of as his father, Loki feels the old resentment begging to roil inside once more. Everyone’s waiting for it, expecting him to lash out verbally with that silver tongue which has won him friends and enemies alike. Even Thor, standing next to the throne, is keeping a watchful eye on the slender figure prone on the floor.

“I accept any consequences of my transgression, All-Father,” the words taste like bile but have to be spoken clearly, “and you may do with me as you see fit…I only wish to save an innocent life.”

A few snorts of disbelief can be heard through the grand hall, still Loki keeps quiet. Green eyes locked with one of pale blue, watering with age and seeking compensation through the aid of watchful spies. Seconds pass, long as a lifetime, and already the prodigal son fears it’ll be too late. A glance to Thor is noticed and scrutinized by their father.

“So you’ve found compassion for the Midgardians now? Hmmm?” Odin’s eyepatch wobbles as the white brows lift. “Tell me then…who do you intend to save?”

“Admittedly only one for now.” Even to himself, the plea sounds hollow. “A maiden whom I unwittingly put in harms way when trying to achieve the opposite.”

“One?”

“One.”

Loki’s knees are starting to ache against the stones, tempting him to reposition ever so slightly under the scrutinizing gaze of the King. He’s had worse, endured crippling pain far beyond the discomfort he now feels, and so he remains motionless save for the eyes that return the stare unwaveringly.

“Thor?” Odin commands without shifting his attention.

The God of Thunder was not one for convoluted speech when growing up in Asgard. Although he studied as a prince should under the careful eyes of Frigga and the many tutors, the more physically inclined boy preferred to put his intellect to different uses than poring over books more than absolutely necessary. Loki used to be annoyed by it, but today…today he rejoices with each simple sentence the brother utters, detailing the events since the phone call to Stark from Loki. Even as he bluntly describes the medical situation of the woman who’s nothing but a stranger to anyone else.

Silence fills the hall when Thor has finished. Odin himself shows a sliver of surprise and has very few questions for the broad warrior before sinking into thought. Make up your mind, old man! Not a word passes Loki’s lips. He can’t risk angering the All-Father, the ruler of Asgard who protects the realm and its people viciously from outsider.

“You bargain your freedom and life in exchange for hers?”

“Yes.” No waver.

A low hum escapes Odin while he thinks. “And…even if there is nothing to be done to save her, you will accept your sentence?”

Not before she’s safe. “Yes.”

Although “no” is what I meant, I gave a “yes” and lied yet again

… Reader’s PoV …

The entire world is moving, tipping and spinning around you without having any impact on your stability on the slippery ice. Faintly, you remember the idea that wherever you are isn’t the real world, but how can that be? Already, you can sense the beckoning carried on the icy winds, the urge driving you on instead of letting the stickiness take you down into the dark. Hasn’t that always been the life you’ve known?

Deciding not to care about the odd jostling of the world, you carry on slowly. As you navigate through patches of greedy tendrils, you feel how they hold on tighter…pull harder. It even looks as though more of them appears and begin to invade the relative safety of the ice. No! They can’t hold you back, the musn’t. Because somewhere at the end of the path is a golden chain set with small stones and it’s calling for you.

… Loki’s PoV …

Odin doesn’t allow Loki to be there when [Y/N] arrives, and it’s only Thor’s shameless pleading (mixed with a bit of logic) that secures a corner view in the Healing Chambers.

By Mirmir’s head! Every curse and worrying comment is bit back in fear that the silver tongue will land Loki in trouble…or the Midgardian. It’s evident how taxing the journey has been. Each breath is laboured now, rattling the normally gorgeous chest, yet nothing seems to come off it: face sickly pale; prominent, dark veins marring the soft skin; and a fever that rages through her body with a force that fills the entire room. One glance at Thor is enough to solidify the concern.

…

Time passes slowly, each minute reflected in the glittery particles of the Soul Forge’s projection. Even the physicians, Idunn and Eir, wear grim expressions as they work their skill and magic to battle the poison eating the patient from within. Loki can barely make sense of their words, too lost in thought and consumed by a disconcerting worry that he dares not voice yet. Just let her live.

“No, we can’t, there’s not enough.” Idunn’s brows are pulled down to the nose as she examines the data hovering above the patient.

The other healer doesn’t relent. “Maybe some o–“

“Who?!”

The one word’s sharp enough for a guard to wince, his spear brushing uncomfortably near Loki who’s trying to get an idea of what the women are arguing about. A donor? Well, the options are limited, and whatever [Y/N] is in need of has to be something any healthy Asgardian must apparently possess since the physicians are discussing it at all.

“I volunteer.” Five spears realign at Loki’s calm voice.

Stalking past the exam table, Idunn takes in the ex-prince’s form properly for the first time since his arrival. “Clearly, despite your intellect, you’ve not realized that we’re referring to a full blood transfusion,” she explains curtly, “replacing all of the girl’s blood.”

“Do it.”

Brown eyes are boring into cold blues. “We’d have to verify if you’re a match.”

“Do it.”

“Using just one donor could be lethal…for the donor.”

There’s no hesitation. No waver in the answer. “Do it.”

“Brother!” For all of Loki’s sharp senses, he’d forgotten the blond, bumbling idiot of a Thunder God still was there. “You cannot do this!”

“Why not?!” Again the guard flinches. “Tell me, why I shouldn’t! My freedom, maybe my life, is forfeit either way! Let it at least be used for one good deed before your father does whatever he pleases with it.”

Thrusting his hands forward, manacles chafing against the skin, Loki presents the vulnerable insides of the elbows the best he can.

…

Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all. The darkness of the marring, prominent veins is already lessening, leaving Loki to believe that he can see a healthy luster returning to [Y/N]’s delicate skin even from where he’s lying in a neighbouring Soul Forge.

“I must admit,” Odin’s voice shifts the adoptive son’s attention, “that your action moves me.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

Maybe Thor wants to say something, his mouth opening and closing as he rolls slowly on his feet. Swaying. Lulling. Must keep my eyes open. It’s getting difficult already. A tiredness is invading Loki’s body as the pumps work to withdraw blood from both subjects, only pumping it into one afterwards. This is not how the Asgardian had expected it to end, complacent and filled with regrets.

“If this should be your last deed, my son, then I will remember you more fondly than I once feared I would have to.” The voice is distant, with a cotton-like quality to it as it seeps through the dimming lights.

Go ahead and judge away, I chose to be this kind of person anyway

… Reader’s PoV …

The dream’s fading, becoming nothing more than a fuzzy memory of desperation and a longing for something that you don’t even recall anymore save for a glittery eye of a tiger. It had been so important to reach it, but did you actually succeed in the end? Whatever it is that had been so vital, it’s not in your hand as you try to move it, fingers fumbling over soft silk and lungs filling wonderfully with clean air scented with honey. It’s like breathing life, and a tiny content sigh escapes you.

Soothing but insistent, your senses come back for full power, and despite the soft bed, it’s hard to find comfort in your body and mind: one is tingling as though every part has been asleep and is now waking with pins and needles, the other is flooded with fragmented recollections of a hand-over gone wrong. Very wrong.

You push yourself upwards against a wooden headrest with a groan, eyes blinking to stop the room around you from swimming away in a haze, and you spot a figure sitting in a chair. Broad shoulders hunched forward and elbows resting on the knees to leave the hands hanging loosely folded.

“So…you wake,” is all Thor says before getting up and leaving, ignoring your stunned reaction.

…

You’ve been bathed and dressed in a pretty yet antique-ish dress. Even fed. But no one has bothered explain to you what has happened and why you’re here in Asgard. That’s where I am, right? Following a guard in golden armour, you’re being led through impressive halls with statues, murals, and tapestries the likes of which you’ve only seen it the best museums and private collections. It’s not until the enormous double doors open that you realize you’re on your way to the throne to meet the king. Odin.

All the curiosity you’d felt is twisted into a nausea-inducing anxiety as you pass pillars and people lining the length of the room, all standing silently watching. At each carved stone reaching high above are more guards, but it’s the silently moving shadows at the walls that prevent you from breathing further than the top of the sternum and recognising Thor next to the throne does nothing to compensate. Where’s Loki? He’s got to be around somewhere, but you can’t find him and all too soon you’re at the dais and have to kneel with eyes fixed on the floor.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N].” Where does Odin know my name from? “It is imperative that you understand how seldom it is for an outsider to be brought here…let alone a simple Midgardian.” There’s a poorly veiled insult there, but this is not the time to pick a fight and you choose to nod instead. “Still…here you are.” Was that a sigh? “My adoptive son Loki came and pleaded for the best physicians to treat you in the hope your life could be saved. He came…although he had been banished from this realm…”

The king continues for much longer than you find necessary, especially focusing on the infinite benevolence of him as a king and the Asgardian prowess on pretty much every single field of science, history, and diplomacy. The few stolen glances reveal nothing to be out of the ordinary, and you presume this must be the normal way for the aging monarch to address anyone in court.

Eventually, Odin reaches the end and waits for you to express your gratitude for the lifesaving treatment he has extended to you, a pathetic human (not his actual words, but same point). Of course, you sing his and Asgard’s praises. To begin with.

“Your majesty, if I may…” You try to sound confident as you meet his eyes. Eye. “Where’s Loki? I’d like to thank him.”

Tell them who I really am, Since everything I know’s about to meet its end

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