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gracefulsunflower · 3 years ago

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CONTRARY - FINN SHELBY X READER; PART 28

PUBLISHED: 23/06/2022

!!FIRST PART HERE!!

Part 1

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

THIRD PERSON'S POV

Your husband leaned down, breath hot on your ear as he promised to be back soon. You gave a hum of acknowledgement and continued talking to one of Tommy's friends in high places. What Tommy brought you and Finn to this dinner party for, you didn't know. Tommy was bringing his new business partners (Bonnie, your father, and your sisters) to meet some of his uppity friends over a dinner party, therefore the senior Shelbys were in attendance as they all had important positions in the company, but you and Finn weren't senior Shelbys. If you were being honest, you and Finn didn't even have proper positions in the company, just doing whatever bits and bobs Tommy told you to do. You supposed it made sense, but also didn't make sense at the same time.

Finn handed you his glass of whiskey, and walked off, happy to be out of that damned room but feeling slightly guilty for leaving you alone.

He headed towards the nearest bathroom, wanting a few moments of privacy to settle his nerves — and to play in the snow.

He knocked twice on the bathroom door, and no answer came. He tried the door but it was locked, making him frown. He hoped that no one was inside and unconscious. He put his ear up to the door and knocked again.

A faint, sniffly 'hello?' came through, making his heart drop. He knew that voice anywhere. Saoirse.

"Sersh, it's Finn. Can you open the door?" Finn asked, trying to sound calm.

She should have been well and truly snoring by now, tucked safely into bed, under the watch of her nanny, who Bonnie was so generously paying for.

Finn heard the door lock jiggle, then the door opened just enough for Saoirse to slip through and hug Finn in a bone crushing hug. He quickly wrapped his own arms around the child, rubbing her back comfortingly, her nightgown smooth under his hand.

"I got scared because it was a new room and I was going to ask Pippa for a nightlight because the shadows looked scary but I couldn't remember if she went right or left or what bell to ring to call her and I tried to find her but I couldn't and I ended up in there," Saoirse explained through sniffles, breathing quick and shallow, "She does it a lot but she usually puts a light on so I'm not scared."

"I'm here now," Finn reassured, making a mental note to tell Bonnie to get rid of that nanny.

Saoirse nodded, breathing still uneven.

"Take a few big, deep breaths — like this," Finn demonstrated, then gestured for Saoirse to do it.

Saoirse did so, clinging on to Finn as she did it, as if she was scared he was going to run away as soon as she turned her back.

Finn waited patiently until Saoirse was calm, then pulled his handkerchief out and told her to blow her nose with it, and she did. He suddenly heard the rapid 'click-click' that your heels made when you walked. He spun around, and you were hurrying over to the pair, dress bunched up in your hands so you wouldn't trip over it.

"What's she doing here? She was meant to be back at camp with Pippa," You said softly, giving her a hug and leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead.

"She just said that Pippa put her into one of the guest rooms," Finn replied, reminding himself to unclench his jaw, trying to keep himself standing in a relaxed way so Saoirse wouldn't see how stressed he was becoming.

"Fucking — I knew she was mad on that butler, wouldn't think she would do that to my sister because of it," You grumbled, frowning, "She'd be better off fucking living with us, honest."

"That can be arranged," Finn said, making you stop and look at him.

"That isn't a five second decision!" You hissed, not wanting to get Saoirse's hopes up.

Finn nodded, taking off his jacket and placing it around your sister, who must have been cold in her little blue nightgown.

"Want to stay with us tonight, at our house?" You asked Saoirse gently.

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of Finn's jacket.

Finn handed you the car keys, "You go put her in the car, I'll go tell Tommy."

You nodded, and Finn turned on his heel and went to go find his brother.

You were concerned. You had gotten Saoirse a nanny so she wouldn't be left alone, with all of you going and doing business most of the day. Your father and Bonnie having a bit of an erratic schedule making it hard for them to be home, and Ezzie was usually in town with Isiah making lesson plans for the kids so they could learn too, which, knowing her, could easily turn into a night over at Isiah's house. That was where Pippa came in useful, caring for your sister when you all couldn't, but now you were wondering how many times Pippa actually left your sister alone and unsupervised.

By tomorrow, Pippa would be lucky if she had her eyes.

You walked down the corridor and turned to your right, holding Saoirse's hand, then heard a giggle. You looked to your left, and, there was your brother, talking to one of the butlers, a smirk on his face.

"Bonnie!" You said sharply, making him look at you and drop his smirk.

"What's she doing up?" He asked you, shoving the butler into the room and closing the door behind him, walking over to the pair of you.

"The nanny you hired has been leaving her unattended," You explained, making Bonnie's eyes widen.

"What about the dogs, her dogs, Daisy and Duke, don't they stay with her?" Bonnie questioned, reaching an arm out for Saoirse, who shook her head and pressed herself into your side even more.

"That's not the point-" You began, but Bonnie cut you off,

"-We always had the dogs and no babysitters-"

"Yes but we were older and we had each other, she's got no one, we're not camping with family now!" You snapped, and Bonnie pursed his lips and nodded, seeing your point.

You sighed, ushering Saoirse along the corridor and promising to see Bonnie sometime soon, when he wasn't busy.

•••

A week after Pippa was fired — and you took her eyes, cheered on by Finn — you sat with Finn, Saoirse, Ezzie, Aberama, and Bonnie at your dining table, Finn Junior on Saoirse's lap.

You drummed your fingertips against the tabletop, your nails clicking against it. Finn found the noise irritating, so he clamped his hand around yours and brought it back between the pair of you, giving it three quick squeezes

Saoirse's eyes went from you and Finn, to Aberama, and back again. You noticed that she hadn't even taken a sip of her tea, or had a biscuit. Nervous. She felt nervous.

"You can choose whatever you want, my darling Butterfly," Aberama said in a reassuring tone, smiling fatherly down at his youngest child.

Butterfly. Saoirse had finally picked a favourite colour. Blue.

"Want to stay with Bee and Finn for a bit," Saoirse admitted, making you freeze, "See what it's like."

Your husband noticed this and dropped his hand, rubbing your leg in a reassuring manner.

"We'll give you my room," Finn told Saoirse, making her grin, "And enrol her in school today, we've got time."

Saoirse's grin dropped, and she looked over at you.

"You're going if you're staying here," You told her, and she huffed, hugging Finn Junior and rubbing her face against his fur, but protested no more.

The only options were school, or a nanny, and you didn't want to hire a nanny after that last incident. You could have gotten her a governess, but you wanted her to have some interaction with other children.

Aberama looked at you and your husband. He noticed that your hair was down, which was unusual. You rarely had it down anymore. A big change from when you first got married and rarely had it up. Maybe it was a sign of growing up. He wished you had your hair down more if it was.

"We'll need to get her clothes from my vardo sometime soon, then," Aberama said softly, making you nod, the check the time.

You still had time to enrol her today.

"I've got to go see Tommy, I'll see you two back at camp," Bonnie said, standing up from the table and wiping the nonexistent dust from his clothes.

"And I've got to go and make schooling packs, I don't know when I'll be back at camp," Ezzie excused herself, Bonnie pulling her chair out and helping her stand up.

Your father wordlessly stood up, and tucked his chair in. You frowned. He always said see you later before standing up from his chair, then once again whilst leaving.

"Dad? What's wrong?" You asked carefully, not wanting to upset him.

"You're all growing so fast, at the start of the year I had you all with me but now you're all going and growing up," Aberama admitted, making you feel slightly guilty.

You didn't see your father as much as you wanted now that you lived with Finn.

"I'll never grow up," Saoirse piped up, making you all chuckle.

"Maybe all of your kids should spend one last night in camp with you — not one last night, but just one night together before Sersh comes to stay with us for a bit," Finn suggested, making your heart flutter.

He could be proper considerate sometimes.

"Yes, tonight," Ezzie agreed, and looked at Bonnie, who grinned and nodded.

"It's settled then," You stated, looking at your father who looked more upbeat than he did before.

"Tonight," He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, "I'll see you, you'd do well to get Saoirse enrolled today."

You hummed in agreement as you stood up from the table, taking the empty cups to the sink, Finn getting up and helping you.

Your sister, father, and brother moved towards the door, saying see you later, then left you, your husband, your cat, and your younger sister in the apartment. Saoirse was finally eating her biscuits and drinking her tea.

Finn walked over and phoned Poll, who agreed to go for a drive and get him the enrolment forms and help him fill them out, no questions asked. That's what he liked about Polly. Always doing things for the people she loved.

"Finn, she won't be where she's supposed to be up to in school, what if she gets bullied?" You asked your husband lowly as you stood next to him at the sink, looking over at your shoulder quickly, peeking at your sister.

She picked up things quick, being a kid, but you were sure she wasn't where she needed to be, and you knew just how vicious kids were.

"Then we'll pay someone to get her up to speed in the afternoons," Finn reassured you, leaning down and planting a kiss on your forehead, then grabbed the tea towel and started wiping up.

Finn listened to your soft humming as you moved around the room, and headed down the hallway to his room. You were probably beginning to move his clothes into your room. Neither of you had much clothes, so you'd be fine sharing your wardrobe and chest of drawers with him.

"Finny?" Saoirse's voice snapped him back to reality, and he spun around, raising his eyebrows and jerking his chin up.

"Can I get a nightlight for a bit?" She asked, shifting in her seat.

"Of course," Finn reassured, "We'll track one down after we get your enrolment form."

Saoirse grinned toothily at this statement, then put the cat down, walking over and laying in front of the fireplace, which was roaring. Even though it was getting warmer, it was still cold in the apartment, especially in the rooms. Finn wouldn't mind having a place that had a fireplace in each room. Maybe an extras room, too, so no one would have to move rooms in case guests came.

"Need help!" You called out, and Finn moved down the hallway, then backtracked, turning on the radio and finding a station for Saoirse, then moving down the corridor again.

He walked into his — now Saoirse's — room, and saw that you had all of his clothes out on his bed.

"What do you need help with?" He asked as he leaned against the doorway.

"Darling, can you take those ironed clothes and put them where ever you want them? I'll take these and put them wherever they'll fit," You said, and Finn felt his heart skip a beat at the pet name.

"That I can do, love," Finn said, crossing the room and grabbing the ironed stuff by their hangers, then walking them into your — his, now, too — rooms, going and putting them into the wardrobe, noticing his list for you pinned on the door.

He noticed the heart shaped rock on your vanity, and beamed a smile.

"What's got you smiling?" You questioned as you went and put Finn's folded clothes into your chest of drawers.

"The rock," Finn admitted, blushing, making you chuckle as you stood up, then crossed the room, leaning up and planting a kiss on his cheek.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug. He took a deep breath in, and caught your scent, making his shoulders drop in relaxation. Your scent always calmed him.

"It's going to be odd, sharing a room," You said, but felt excited.

You'd be sharing a room with your husband, finally. The thought of waking up, tangled in the sheets with Finn as the morning light filtered through your window made your heart beat just a little bit faster.

§§§

Heyyy long time no see

What did you think of this chapter??

Some of the events in this chapter was meant to happen in chapter 30 but oh well lol

Love y'all ❤️

- Sunflower x

NEXT PART

Part 29

TAGLIST

@meadownicolee

@toothlessmcleod

@im-your-possession

@bethabear12

@paisley-37

@shelundeadxxxx

@bluehairdie

@krillfromsky

#finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x y/n #finn shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #x reader #arthur shelby #finn shelby fanfic #tommy shelby

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beardrabbles · 4 years ago

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invitation.

characters: GN!reader, claude, mentions of GN!byleth

warnings: none

word count: 2,814

notes: posted this on ao3 ages ago and totally forgot to post it here too :’) got into the fandom late, like alwaaaays! but i have an enormous claude / golden deer bias and wanted to write some fluff with him.

You forgot sometimes that this peaceful spot tucked between the trees wasn’t yours alone. You shared it with another from time to time, but it had been so long since the last time you both stepped foot in the clearing that it startled you to hear footfalls crunching at the grass behind you. Pushing yourself up halfway, eyes blinking blearily, you spotted the richly dressed prince with his hands planted on his hips.

“Napping without me?” Claude clicked his tongue, and you quickly replied with a roll of your eyes.

“I can’t nap here on my own?” You fell back again, letting the soft grass cushion you. A soft, content sigh escaped through your nose as the sweetest of breezes barely brushed your skin. It smelled of flowers and damp leaves, dense soil and a distant storm. There was no zing of hot iron or blood, and it was a relief.

“I thought it was our thing. . .”

You felt him sit beside you, taking up his usual position to your left. The tiniest flutter tickled the inside of your ribs, his nearness nearly making your head spin. “Before I came along, it was just your thing, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but I like it better this way.” Claude leaned back on his hands, eyes up towards the greying sky. It had taken fighting a war to bring back their usual glimmer, but it was there in full. Bright, hopeful, determined. Laying there, gazing up at the unsuspecting prince, it was almost as if you were looking at the man from five years ago — the cunning, clever and sometimes troublesome man that you had fallen head-over-heels for and had continued to painfully pine for.

“Me too.” You dared to smile, his gaze shifting to you. Adoring him hurt, but no amount of hurt would have you appreciating his presence any less.

Claude returned the smile, and the gesture sent your heart slamming against your chest. But just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. “I spoke to Byleth.”

You sat up in an instant, concern etched into your face. You were aware that he had gone to meet them, but he had failed to tell you why. You equally failed to push the subject, as it wasn’t your place to disrespect a man in his position. Curious as you might have been, you assumed it was best not to ask and only hope that he trusted you enough to confide in you later. Seemed you were right, though you acknowledged to yourself that it was a rare thing.

“How did it go?”

“They’re disappointed I won’t be here for the coronation. I can’t blame them. After everything we’ve been through together, I should be here for them. I want to hope they understands. They always have.” He exhaled sharply. “But, hey, I got to see them smile again! I think as long as they’re here, Fódlan will be in good hands. If they keeps smiling, if they keep breaking down the walls that were built up, I can go home and do my part there. I trust them.”

You shifted, feeling uncomfortable in your envy.

“So they’re not coming with you to Almyra?” You wondered. Claude shook his head.

“No, and I didn’t want to ask. Fódlan needs to be taken care of. It needs a parent that will hold its hand and lead it in the right direction. It’s gonna stumble around like an infant walking for the first time, but that’s why they’re the best person to lead. They’ll know what to say and do to help this little baby along.”

You screwed up your face and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You really like talking about babies.” You pointed out. Claude’s cheeks and the tips of his ears darkened a fraction, but he dismissed it with a hearty chuckle.

“I guess I do. I wonder why that is.” He trailed off, voice soft but nowhere near as confused as his words would have lead you to believe. You had long ago resigned yourself to never truly understanding him, so you shrugged. Trying to pick through his mind was like attempting a hedge maze without a map.

“Does that mean you’re going to be heading back soon?”

“I can’t stay for long. There’s so much I need to do if I’m going to see things through, but there’s something important I need to do here before I can go home.” There was sharpness to his eyes that you recognized and deeply adored. He was planning something, and you felt your curiosity rise again.

“What is it? Can I help?” You were always so quick to offer him aid. Usually, he gently denied it, stating time and time again that most of his schemes were for his mind alone. Things often worked out for the better that way. The fewer people that knew, the less chance they could commandeer the plan or ruin it. Yet you still asked just in case he needed you.

“Maybe. Before that, can I ask you something?”

You frowned. “Of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“You’ve been saying that since we met. Is it really true?” Claude smirked and raised a single brow, only for you to shove him harmlessly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You eyed him for a moment, worry mounting. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

The prince shook his head, as if he were getting off track. “No. I wanted to know where you plan to go. What are your plans for the future?”

“Oh! Oh.” You frowned when the sudden realization that you had no plans slammed into you. “I don’t. . . know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been so busy supporting everyone else, doing what I can for them, that I don’t know what to do with myself. Everyone’s grown up. They’re all doing their own thing, starting their own lives. No one needs me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Claude’s voice was firm in your ear, and his expression was set to match. You smiled meekly.

“I grew up with all of you, but it felt like my purpose was to help you all find yours. Not that I really think I’m capable of being that helpful, but I never took the time to think about myself. I was too worried about you all reaching your dreams that I didn’t have one. I don’t have one.” You amended the last part quickly because it was blatantly clear to you that you had no direction to go in.

“There has to be something you want.” Claude pushed. You laughed.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I want what you want. I want you to succeed.” You opened your mouth again, but were quick to clamp them shut when another thought arose. I want to be with you.

It was lovely to imagine, but you had lived with the fact that any future with him was left solely to your imagination. You met him as an heir, and you knew him now as a prince. The differences in your status was vast and hard to ignore. Claude had his mind set on making those differences unimportant, but you doubted that he could find room in his heart for you. He had a country to take care of and love, not to mention you two had been friends since the start of your time at the academy. Too much time had passed since then, and while your feelings had grown deeper and more troublesome, you were sure he had none to begin with. No, as students, he had been too preoccupied with tormenting you. Teasing, poking, taking up your time with nonsense and rarely giving you a moment to yourself.

Despite him being a brat at times, you loved him. And even if he didn’t reciprocate, you were grateful to have known him at all.

“So you’re not bound to Fódlan?” His voice shook you from your thoughts.

“What?”

“Do you have any obligations here in Fódlan?” His gaze was so intently set on you that it made you squirm, the feeling ten times worse since coming out of your own head.

“No, not that I can think of.” You couldn’t recall making any promises.

“Right, so you could leave.” Claude hummed thoughtfully and got to his feet. Once upright, he dusted the grass from his clothes and offered you a hand. Confused, you took it and let him pull you into standing.

“I guess I could, but where would I even go? I don’t know anyone outside of Fódlan.” You felt something subtle was being said, you couldn’t catch on. Some days, you could. You had learned him just as he had learned you, but he was always several steps ahead. You could read him, but only the pages he allowed you to see. In this case, the pages were written on, but only in bits and pieces.

Claude gave you a pointed stare and a gentle, encouraging squeeze to your hand. When you failed to understand, he raised both eyebrows and pointed to himself. No words were needed. His gestures and odd line of questioning were like a clarifying slap to the face. You reeled, giving him a wide-eyed stare while sputtering idiotically.

“Wh——”

“That took you while. I was starting to worry I’d have to spell it out for you.” Claude put on a convincing pout. “Unless this is your weird way of telling me you don’t want to come with me.”

“No!” You leaped too soon, your eagerness prompting a smirk on the prince’s face. You fell silent again, worried that saying anything more might reveal all of what you had been trying to hide for over five years. “I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying?” He purred cunningly, hand still holding tightly to yours. You didn’t resist when he to eased you closer, your heart screaming in your chest. Cheeks red and breaths shallow, you could hardly think. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I’m still napping, and this is just another stupid dream.

You swallowed hard and peered up at him. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Vague.”

“Ah-ah,” chided the cheeky man, “you’ll have to address me as Prince Vague now.”

You scoffed and gave him another shove. When your hand pressed to his shoulder, he trapped it there with his own. Even closer now, Claude lowered his head until your noses nearly touched. You sucked in a breath and found yourself unable to move away, attention trapped in his bright, beautiful eyes.

“You want to know what I’m asking you?” He lowered his voice, tone growing tender and warm. You nodded. “I’m asking if you’ll come home with me. I want you to meet my parents and my people, and I want them to meet you. I want them to love you as much as——”

He choked for a moment, a rare flicker of pure emotion startling him.

“As much as what?” You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but he was making it incredibly difficult not to.

Claude calmed himself with a shaky breath and tilted his chin down, lips barely ghosting the curve of your cheek. His eyes fluttered half closed, while a single lock of his dark hair tickled at your cheek. When you didn’t shy away, he spoke again in honeyed tones. “I want them to love you as much as I do.”

“You can’t mean that.” Your entire being felt numb with glee, but you couldn’t process his confession without a little doubt. He met your doubt with a chuckle, so you persisted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you felt the compulsion to reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. You had done so many times before, letting the gentle touches calm him during his bad days, but there was new meaning behind it now. There was an honest love behind it as your dragged your fingers through the strands, pushing them back and away from his darling face.

“There were so many others. . .” So many people wanted his attention, his affection. You were but one in a thousand that longed for him.

“I didn’t care. I dreamed of many futures, and all of the best ones had you standing there beside me.” He muttered into you, the softest of kisses resting just under your eye.

“We argued so much.” You shuddered, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“You kept me grounded. How can anyone expect to be a decent ruler if they’re always agreed with?” He countered. You huffed and tried to think of another argument.

“You used to tease me all the time.” You muttered.

“I’ll admit that was dumb of me, but it felt like the only way to get your attention.” His lips found the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t contain a snicker. “You looked so cute when you were embarrassed, especially when you wrinkled your nose. I couldn’t help it.”

“Why do I feel like you still can’t help it?” You tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and let your fingers follow the path of his facial hair. He was putty in your hands, cheek pressing to your hand.

“It’s part of my charm.” Claude flashed his usual smile, then took a step back. The lack of closeness left you feeling a little colder, but the distance let you appreciate him fully. Tall, handsome, commanding. You were exceedingly proud of him, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again. But before you could think to speak, he started again. “You don’t have to answer me right away. I know this a lot to ask of you, so I want to give you the time you need. I’m leaving in two days. Meet me at the——”

You didn’t allow him to finish. Your heart was too full and on the verge of bursting, and it seemed silly to you that he didn’t know what your answer would be when he was so skilled at predicting you. Rather than let him wonder, you removed your hands from his and took his face between them. You gathered your courage, mustered with his help, and pulled him down for a soft but silencing kiss.

Claude wasn’t often rendered speechless, but he supposed he didn’t mind being put in his place if it meant your lips fitting against his as perfectly as they did. Unfortunately for him and the heat radiating throughout him, you didn’t let the kiss last long. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and crush you against his chest like he’d long to for years, but you parted from him too soon for his liking.

“Where are you going?” He took chase, but you placed your hand over his mouth. Claude stilled and arched a brow.

“I’ve had my answer for years, Claude. I’m with you in every possible way. But if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” You uncovered his mouth, but his silence told you more than words would. “How long have you, uh. . .”

“Cared for you? Admired you? Wanted to kiss you the way you just kissed me?” Every question he posed in response to yours made your heart thud and your cheeks burn. “A long, long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was never given the chance.” He answered so surely that you wondered if he had those words prepared. You couldn’t pester him about it — too many things had gone horribly wrong during your time at the academy, and it didn’t make sense to plant seeds in dead soil. There would have been no guarantee that it would bloom and flourish, but with the land starting a slow recovery, you hoped that what you two started here would become lusher and more far-reaching than any forest in Fódlan.

“It’s alright.” You giggled giddily and granted him another kiss, this one to the corner of his lips. “We were given our chance, and you took it.”

“Does that mean you’re going home with me?” He asked.

“I told you——”

“I want to hear you say the words.” Claude softly pleaded. Weak for his doe eyes, you melted in his arms and relented.

“I’m going home with you, Claude. I want to meet your parents, and I want to get to know your people. And for as long as I’m there, for as long as you’ll have me, I want to get to know you better.”

A soft sigh tinged with relief escaped the man as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His grasp on you tightened, and you felt his heart beat against your chest.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and embraced him. “Don’t thank me. Just take me home. . .”

#claude von riegan x reader #fire emblem reader #fire emblem three houses #fe3h

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

Twice Shy

Pairings | Preserum!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Warnings | smut, loss of virginity, fingering, implied oral (m reviving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Word count | 2.8k

Summary | you and Steve lose your virginities to each other

Masterlist

Exuberant. If Bucky had to describe the look in his best pal's face, he'd have to use the word exuberant.

When Bucky had suggested the double date, Steve had groaned - long and drawn out - but had relented with a deep sigh. His agreement didn't stop the man from dragging his feet the entire way there, though. A habit that Bucky had come to accept if he was to ever get Steve to meet a dame.

And this one, Steve seemed rather enamoured with. Well, that was an colossal understatement. Steve was completely and utterly besotted with her. The dame was beautiful, even Bucky could admit that. She was the kind of beauty that was often overlooked; it's innocence often snuffed out by the more...sexy girls that filled the dance hall.

Steve's hands rested on your hips, slender fingers curled against the soft fabric of your dress as he slowly swayed with you. You probably looked just as out of place and awkward as him, your hands tentatively rested against his shoulders as your eyes darted about the room.

"Y/n?" Steve mumbled, eyes centred on your lips. Your eyes snapped to his, baby blue calming as you bit your lip.

"Yes, Steve?" You murmured, starting to feel slightly flushed as the boy leant closer.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" Steve pondered, eyes searching your face for the usual disgust or pity that came with that question whenever he asked it. But he didn't find any.

Instead, you nodded. Sure and slow. Steve leant in, a small smile playing on his pink lips as he leant closer. The feeling of them fluttering over your cheek, plump and slightly wet nearly made you swoon. It lingered, his long eyelashes feathering against your skin.

Then, he pulled away. You dropped your hands from his shoulders as you felt your cheeks grow hot and your skin burn deliciously where the kiss still tingled. Steve stepped away from you abruptly, a pink flush spreading from the tips of his ears to under the collar of his shirt.

"Thank you, for teaching me how to dance." Steve muttered awkwardly, finally meeting your eyes with his. You smiled warmly at that.

"It was a pleasure. Goodbye, Steve." You mumbled back as you began to walk away, by Steve's thin hand around yours stopped you. You gave him a puzzled look.

"I hope we can, uh, do this again sometime? Maybe grab some food?" Steve asked, scratching the back of his neck as his body caved in with the nerves.

"I'd love that." You beamed brightly, your cheeks growing even hotter as Steve tentatively lifted your hand to his face and brushed his lips across the back.

"Until next time, then." Steve whispered and you bit your lip.

"Until next time." Then you walked away, and Steve sighed. Something caught his attention, a grinning Bucky out the corner of his eye. Steve breathed a little laugh, but the goofy grin on his face would not go away.

The next time Bucky dragged Steve out with him, you came. And the time after that, the time after, and the time after that. It was their thing now, Bucky often had a new dame on his arm whilst both and you and Steve grew more confident and comfortable around one another.

Cheek kisses were now a common occurrence, as well as Steve's skinny arm wrapped around your waist or his small had grasped in yours. He always had to be touching you somehow in public now, a claim that you were his and that everyone else should back off.

Your ma said it was unusual, that he was a) so skinny and b) that he was so possessive. But you found it endearing, it was just his way of telling others you were already his.

It was that night that Steve finally took you back to their apartment, Bucky having shipped off to England merely a week prior.

It was bittersweet, really. You knew Steve planned signing up again, planned on enlisting. You knew this was going to be his goodbye, his final hurrah with you before he most likely never saw you again.

And quite honestly, you'd made peace with that. The man you'd come to love was perusing what he loved, and even though that didn't seem to be you, you were happy for him.

"So where are you gonna be from this time?" You pondered as Steve fiddled with the key, finally jamming the cool metal into the lock. He hummed as he turned the key, the door sliding open as he tilted his head in thought.

"I was thinkin' Jersey, but I'm not quite sure yet." Steve remarked as he strolled into the small flat, you closely on his heels as the keys were thrown onto a brittle-looking table with a jingling clang. "I just wan' to get out there, ya know? Men like Bucky are riskin' their lives and I'm here, unscathed. It doesn't seem right."

You nodded solemnly, but the bright smile still stayed firm on your lips as Steve led you through the small apartment.

"I just hope I can be in the 107th, you know? Fight with Buck and just make my dad proud." Steve sighed, bordering on dreamily as he flopped down on the sofa - which was clearly in need for some heavy TLC.

You stood awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you as Steve twiddled his thumbs in his lap.

"I just hope that we win, is all." He finished and you gave him a bright smile.

"Well, they won't without you, soldier." You hummed and Steve's baby blue eyes peered up at you through thick lashes.

"You think so?" He pondered and you placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Truly. Our country needs a little guy - someone who will fight for those over there rather than those he had at home. As much as we're struggling..."

"There's men dying and no one seems to care." Steve finished your sentence and you nodded.

"Exactly." You muttered as you perched yourself of the sofa beside his skinny frame.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve's low voice mumbled, eyes flicking precariously between your lips and your eyes. Your breathing shallowed, and your heat slipped a beat.

"You know you don't have to ask anymore, soldier." You murmured, turning your face slightly to the side to giving him access to your cheek. But thin fingers grasped your chin in a soft hold, tilting your head back towards Steve as an amused glint flashed in his eyes.

"That's not what I'm asking." Steve's voice rumbled.

"Oh." You paused, hope glimmering in your eyes and Steve couldn't help himself.

His lips were soft against yours, if not a little chapped. It was a little messy, clumsy perhaps, but to you it was perfect. When you pulled away, Steve's lips were spread into a gleeful grin, eyes alight with joy.

"That was..."

"Awful." Steve cut you off and you were both set into spinning fits of laughter. You fell back against the sofa, hands clutched over your stomachs as your wriggled.

"I'm sorry. There are probably better first kisses than me." You said once you began to calm down, wiping the little tear that'd escaped from your cheek.

"You're the only girl I want to kiss." Steve whispered, head lolling to the side to look at you again. You swallowed thickly, eyes finding his lips again - slightly swollen from your disaster of a kiss.

You stumbled back together, knees caving as the backs bumped into the mattress. You and Steve fell together, arms still wrapped around one-another as you both giggled, his lips pecking against yours repeatedly.

You pulled Steve into a longer, deeper kiss - hands cupping his cheeks as his supported himself over you on the bed.

"How should we...start?" You mumbled against his lips, pulling away slightly and opening your eyes to find baby blue gazing down on you lovingly.

"Buck said I need to get you wet? But I'm not sure how I'm meant to, uh, do that?" Steve said doubtfully, both of you bursting back into giggles again as Steve's head dropped to rest in the crook of your neck.

"Maybe you're supposed to use your fingers?" You suggested, lifting a hand and wiggling your fingers. Steve blew a raspberry into your neck as he laughed, your own head through back as you wriggled beneath him with laughter.

The goofiness seemed to cease for a moment as Steve took his head from your neck, meeting your eyes with a soft stare.

"Are you sure about this?" He murmured, eyes loving. You nodded, lip trapped between your teeth.

"Yes." Steve sighed, ducking his head for a moment.

"But are you really sure? I mean, you'd be losing your virginity to, well," Steve looked down at himself, scrawny and small, "me."

You giggled, rubbing your fingers through his blonde locks, manoeuvring them away from his face.

"Of course I want it to be you, I wouldn't be here if I didn't, silly." You expressed, placing a quick kiss to his lips before looking up at the man through your lashes.

"I just need to know you're sure about this, doll." Steve mumbled, gaze burning your skin.

"I'm sure. D'ya know why?" You murmured, and Steve shook his head. "Because I love you." You uttered the words for the first time.

Steve's head snapped up. He couldn't believe it. He never thought he'd ever hear those words falling from a dame's lips, not about him.

"Y-you mean it?" He whispered, voice cracking. You nodded.

"Every word." Steve's heart swelled, his lips spreading gorgeously into a sweet smile.

"I love you too, y/n." Steve beamed, and his lips were on yours again. It was clumsy, sort of messy with inexperience but it was all you wanted in that moment.

Steve's slim fingers began to trail down your body, hiking your skirt around your waist so he could finger the band of your underwear.

"And you're sure about this? We can wait if you're not ready..." Steve asked again, browsed raised.

"Are you sure it isn't you that's not sure? It's fine if you're not Steve, we can wait until you're ready." You countered pulling back from him. Your thumb smoothed over his cheek, a touch that he nuzzled into.

"I'm sure, just a little nervous is all." Steve reassured. You smiled and pecked his lips.

"Wanna know a secret?" You whispered against his mouth and Steve nodded, a small movement. "I am too."

With that you were both laughing again, your legs kicking as Steve's fingers tickled over the inside of your thigh.

"Steve! Steve stop! It tickles!" You panted and gasped through your laughter, Steve's lips curled into something of a triumphant smile against your neck as he slowed his fingers.

"Mmmm, only because I love ya." Steve murmured, placing a kiss to the base on your neck before pulling away enough to help you take your blouse and skirt off.

He froze, ogling your body as his eyes flickered over your brassiere, your heaving chest, your panties, your slightly spread thighs.

"You're so gorgeous, sweetheart." Steve murmured and you giggled.

"C'mere." You mumbled, hooking your fingers into the collar of Steve's shirt and pulling him down on top of you again. He squeaked in surprise, but soon a breathy chuckle was slipping through his lips and onto yours.

You moaned when his fingers tugged down your panties, tracing your lips. He was mesmerised, eyes wide as he watched himself play with your folds.

"Steve!" You moaned when his fingers fluttered over your clit, your thighs snapping shut and your back arching. He pulled away instantly, worry in his beautiful eyes.

"Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?" His voice was panicked, filled with the dread of hurting his best girl. You shook your head, taking his hand in one of yours and guiding his fingers back to the same spot.

"No. It felt good. S'good!" You were moaning again, his fingers finding their way over your clit again in little circles.

You pulled away, lips shiny with spit and precum as your tongue smoothed over then. You moaned at the taste of him, Steve's musky sent lingering on your tongue.

"Where did you learn that?" Steve was breathy, voice merely a pant as his chest rose and fell rapidly. His face was red, pleasure still warped over his perfect features as his elbows propped up his thin frame. You smirked, lips curling up as your wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Bucky teaches you about women, Angie teaches me about men." You hummed, placing a chaste kiss to each of Steve's hip bones before crawling over him.

"Well you're very good at it." Steve gasped, eyes sliding shut when he felt your lips on his. You giggled, the laugh flirtatious when you felt his hands on your hips.

He flipped you over, rolling across the bed in the limited space it offered as you both laughed. He placed small pecks all over your face, lips brushing lovingly over your forehead, your cheeks, your chin, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips.

You deepened the kiss, lips locking as your arms secured around his neck. Your hips jumped a little when you felt his tip bump your clit, still slightly sensitive from the orgasm he pulled from you with his fingers. You squirmed, Steve smirking against your lips.

"Steve, please, I need you inside me." Your lips formed a round the words desperately as he pulled away. His face dropped into seriousness, eyes glinting with question.

"Are you sure, doll? We can stop if you need to." You loved how sweet he was, how caring he was. You shook your head, lip tucking between your teeth.

"Please." You repeated, hand cupping his cheek as Steve nuzzled against your touch.

"Okay." He brought a hand down, tickling from your throat to your stomach as he did so. You wriggled beneath him, shrieking with laughter as he chuckled.

You settled once he stopped, nothing but love in your eyes as you watched the way the little crease appeared between his brows, which were furrowed in concentration as he lined himself up with you.

You both moaned when he pushed forwards, hips snug against yours as his length filled you up. His size was impressive for his body, the slim man hiding a good 7 inches.

Steve stilled, breath heavy as you panted against each other's mouths. You could feel the stretch, the slight burn tingling through your walls as you whimpered.

"You okay? Should I- should I stop? I can just pull out gently, it's no big dea-" Steve began to ramble worry in his face as he began to sit back, his length slowly sliding out of you.

"No. No, I'm fine. Just, give me a minute?" You mumbled, eyes pleading with his as Steve let himself slide back in to the hilt.

"Yeah, okay. Okay. As long as I'm not hurting you." Steve whispered, placing a delicate kiss to your hair line. After a moment you wiggled your hips, the feeling of Steve's damp lips resting against your slightly-sweaty forehead and his cock seated within you becoming too much.

"You can move now." You mumbled, and Steve smiled.

"You sure, princess?" He double checked, only starting to slide out of you when you nodded again.

The pace was slow, loving. Heavy breaths and pants were shared between open mouths; hair stuck to skin with sweat; broken moans hung low in the air.

"Oh, Steve!" You cried out when his fingers started fiddling with your clit again, your hips attempting to thrust up against his.

"Is that the right spot, sweetheart?" Steve asked, but he clearly knew it was by the way your eyes had disappeared into your skull. He kept up the little ministrations, rubbing until he felt you on the precipice of another orgasm.

"Please, Steve, more." Your demand made him smirk, the man picking up the pace just a little until you were writhing beneath him, hands clutching his small shoulders.

Somehow, it hit you like a ton of bricks, your walls fluttered and Steve's eyes widened. He quickly pulled out, letting his fingers pull you through your release as little white spots speckled your vision.

Steve's other hand moved to his length, rubbing up and down as fast as he could before he was releasing himself onto your stomach, a plane of white on perfect skin.

"Wow." You breathed and Steve couldn't hold back his laugh, the man collapsing on top of you and letting his head rest on your neck.

His laughter vibrates against your skin, your own joining his in a melody of joy as your hands smoothed through his now-damp hair.

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nev3rfound · 4 years ago

Text

one of a kind : l.l

with loki having returned to earth, the avengers call upon their newest recruit, an angel to help. only, loki refuses to believe the truth until it’s too late. (1.9k)

masterlist / permanent taglist

Sighing to himself, Tony walks away from the vault as Steve awaits him outside. “Any luck?” Steve asks, receiving a look that says more than words could. “Well, we’re not out of options yet.” Steve adds, trying his best to remain hopeful as Tony rolls his eyes.

“He still not talking?” Natasha pipes up as the pair return to Tony’s lab where the rest of the team stand, eager for any form of update.

“He won’t budge, thanks for that, Thor.” Tony quips, shooting Thor a look who simply shrugs before placing his hammer down on the metal table with a heavy thud.

“It’s not my fault my brother is so unwilling.” Thor comments, keeping his head down.

“He killed three people and threatened the lives of everyone in this building.” Natasha reminds him, and Thor raises his head meekly.

“He’s adopted?” He weakly states.

“This isn’t enough, I think we gotta bring in the big guns.” Tony rises to his feet, pacing around the room as all eyes turn to him.

Shifting on the spot, Steve clears his throat before speaking up. “Tony, I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Oh, and do you have any better ideas, Cap?” Tony shoots back, frustration rising through him as Loki remains locked up in the vault, tormenting them endlessly. “Didn’t think so.” He mutters under his breath. “Friday, can you send our sunshine a message to meet us in my lab?”

“Of course, Tony. Message sent.” Friday responds, and Steve glances over to Natasha, knowing it’s too soon.

Within a matter of minutes, you tiredly walk through the doors of Tony’s lab, seeing the Avengers all stood around. “Am I crashing some kinda party?” You chuckle, but your laughter isn’t well received based on the solemn expressions. “Tough crowd.”

“How’re you doing, sunshine?” Tony walks toward you, resting his arm over your shoulders.

“I’m better today.” You tell him truthfully. “Healing is taking a bit longer than usual, but I’ll be fine in a few days.”

Tony hums to himself, glancing over his shoulder to the rest of the team. “Listen, Y/n, we’ve got a favour to ask of you, and it might not be easy.” Tony begins and guides you back to face the rest of the Avengers.

Steve holds out a chair for you, noticing your breathing becoming shallow and your eyes drooping. You silently thank him as you sit down, glad to take the weight off your feet.

“How can I help?” You ask, a bright smile on your face.

Despite everything you’ve been through these past few months, you’re still more than willing to help everyone else.

“Well, Thor’s brother decided to pay us an unexpected visit,” Tony trails off as you raise a brow to Thor.

“Loki’s here?” You watch as Thor nods. After hearing countless stories from Thor about his brother, you can’t believe he’s here. “So where is he?”

“In the vault.” Natasha states bluntly as you whip your head around. “Sorry, Y/n. It’s the safest place for him to be.” She adds, and you nod to yourself, knowing it’s probably for the best after what happened last time.

“He’s not talking to anyone, is he?” You knew your goal at that moment as the Avengers nodded in response. “Okay.” You mutter under your breath as you rise to your feet, forcing back a groan as a sharp pain shoots up your side.

Steve’s hands hover naturally toward you, but you push through it. “We’ll be in here, Y/n.” Steve tells you. “If you need us at all, or want out, just say.” He adds.

“Thanks, Steve.” You smile sweetly before carrying on alongside Tony, heading toward the vault that you have only ever entered once.

“We just wanna know what he’s planning, why he’s back and all.” Tony briefly explains what they currently know, and the many gaps in Loki’s story as you stand in front of the doors to the vault.

You watch as two men open the doors, revealing a metal bridge leading to the glass container where Loki is sitting.

Loki lifts his head up, and as you catch his gaze it isn’t what you expected. After hearing countless tales of the past you anticipated seeing someone who radiated evil. But sitting before you is a God weakened by his past, not someone who revels in it.

“We’ll be outside like Cap said.” Tony mutters to you as he glares to Loki who merely smiles back.

“Bye, Tony.” You wave to him as the door is closed, leaving you and Loki in a moment of silence whilst you compose yourself.

“You’re not afraid,” Loki speaks up, now standing as he paces around the cylindrical container, a reinforced version of the previous one. “it’s awfully stupid of you.” He adds, and you can’t help but laugh quietly.

“Why should I be afraid?” You dare to ask as you lean against the railings, heavily relying on them as you make eye contact with Loki. “You’re just a God.”

“Oh my dear,” Loki laughs, shaking his head. “you have no idea who you’re talking to, clearly. You’re a mere mortal, why do you all think you can trick me into telling you anything?”

Sighing to yourself, you push your weight from the railings and step forward. “Perhaps because I’m not a ‘mere mortal’?” You suggest, now catching Loki’s attention. “I grew up with God’s, some, like you and others well,” You trail off. “we don’t talk about those ones.”

“What are you saying? You’re a God?” He coldly asks, but you shake your head in response.

“Oh, Gods no.” You admit. “I’m an Angel.” You state.

“No, you’re not.” Loki bluntly comments, looking you up and down before turning away from you. “Angels don’t exist, they’re a fairytale to keep children calm and believe in an afterlife.” He scoffs.

It’s your turn to scoff as you pause, waiting for him to look back at you. “Some say your kind are fairytales, Loki. Doesn’t mean that you aren’t real.” You explain, nearing the glass. “Why are you adamant that I can’t be an angel?”

Turning on his heels, Loki smirks as he approaches the glass, hovering before it and towers over you. “I would know if angels existed. Now, if you don’t mind I was in the middle of thinking about the thirty different ways I can escape here without the need for a mortal to interrupt me.” Loki states.

“Fair enough.” You shrug your shoulders as you cross your arms over your chest. “However, Loki?” You call out. “There are thirty-seven ways out of here, just so you know.” You chuckle, stepping back and return to the railing, trying to hide the pain in your laugh as it ripples through your spine.

Loki’s lips part to respond, but his eyes focus on your hand clutching your side. “You’re injured, aren’t you?” He asks, watching as you nod. “In the tales of Angels aren’t you supposed to heal within minutes of being injured? The whole ‘immortal’ aspect of being an Angel.” Loki paces around the cell once more, but his eyes never leave you.

“It’s a bit more complex than that.” You tell him through gritted teeth. “When an Angel falls from above or rises from below, our powers are still within us, but they aren’t as effective since we’re in the mortal world.” Your breathing slows down now, and you can’t help but slip down to the ground.

“How did you fall?” Loki kneels behind the glass, focusing on you closely. Yet, your breathing becomes slower, and the curiosity Loki has for you increases. “Tell me!” He yells, slamming his fist to the ground.

“I was sent to guard over a human, something we all do at some point.” You begin to explain, picturing the young boys face as he sat with a bloody nose in the middle of the park as children walked away, leaving him to suffer. “He, well, despite my efforts of guarding him, he didn’t make it.” Tears fill your eyes as you remember the day you fell, the consequences of your actions or lack thereof. “How about you, Loki?” You quickly change the topic of conversation. “Why did you come back to Earth?”

“You think I’m going to simply tell you because you told me a story?” Loki remarks.

“Stranger things have happened in all my years.” You tell him, shifting as you try to rise back to your feet. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of them.” You joke as you stand back up, firmly gripping onto the railing behind you.

“Nonsense,” Loki mutters. “you’re a mortal, no older than Thor’s beloved Jane.”

You shake your head. “I’ve lived for nearly three hundred years.” You tell him. “It’s all in the eyes, Loki. But you only ever see the fear in them, whereas I see hope.”

“You’re here to envoke hope? That I might somehow change with the help of an ‘angel?’“

“Like I said, Loki.” Your voice quietens as you try to ignore the growing pain searing through your body. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Well, I am truly sorry.” Loki chuckles. “But this has been fun, a great story you’ve construed together I’ll admit.” He laughs softly. “As if a mortal of such a young age could try and tempt me.”

“I wasn’t here to tempt you, Loki.” You state clearly, despite your vision beginning to blur. “As I said, I was here to try and help you. As that’s what I do, it’s what I know.” Your voice softens as words struggle to leave your lips coherently.

“Nice try, mortal. But you’ll never get me to crack.” Loki spits to you, and that’s when you fall to the ground.

Immediately, the doors open and Steve rushes in.

“What did you do to her?!” Steve yells to Loki as you lie unconscious.

“How could I do anything when I’m stuck in here?” Loki holds his hands up in defence.

Steve glares to the God as he tries to pull you into his embrace. “Tony?” Steve calls out, and Tony walks in with Thor behind him, causing Loki to sigh heavily.

With the help of Thor, Steve is able to get you to your feet, but as you stand up your wings appear.

“Careful!” Steve warns the others. “Y/n told me her cloaking doesn’t work if she’s unconscious.”

“Come on then,” Tony mutters as he helps Steve carry you out, minding your large bright wings.

Yet, standing in disbelief, Loki can’t help but rethink his entire conversation with you. He watches as your wings drap across the floor, feathers catching on the metal and he winces as some are left behind.

“Angels are real?” Loki thinks aloud.

“What did you do to her, dear brother?” Thor asks, defeated as he hovers by the glass. “Y/n is nothing but a kind spirit, a real angel, Loki. Couldn’t you see that?”

Lowering his head, Loki remains silent.

Without another word being said, Thor exits the vault, leaving Loki alone as the door is sealed shut once more.

Staring down at the stray feathers you left behind, Loki buries his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.” He mutters under his breath, wishing he could’ve believed you whilst you were here and seen the hope in your eyes, and the fear looking back at them.

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imaginesupply · 4 years ago

Text

You have my permission - Tom Hiddleston smut (sub!Tom)

Summary : Tom throws a tantrum and his mistress gives him more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Sub!Tom, switch!Tom, oral (f receiving), PIV, body fluids and aftercare.

Words: 4.4k

Smut after the cut.

She strolled inside the bedroom behind Tom, her fingers dexterously removing the heavy earrings that were weighing down her earlobes painfully. Setting them down on the dresser with a relieved sigh, she turned to Tom whose back to her as he crouched down and took off his shoes. What a nice ass, she mused with a grin.

"A bath or a movie, which do you fancy?" She asked, offering him the choice. Tom had seemed off at dinner, not his usual cheerful self and she was concerned. Yet, truth be told, she was tired and though a bath was relaxing perspective, she doubted she'd have the energy to leave the tub once the water lost its warmth, but those were two activities she knew Tom enjoyed particularly and she wanted to treat her good boy to a pleasant evening.

"I don't care."

She stopped in her tracks even as she opened the drawer for a fresh nightdress, a frown taking over her face. "What was that?"

"I don't care." Tom repeated more forcefully.

She had heard him right the first time, then. Hiding her surprise well, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'll remind you, darling, that's not how you speak to me."

Tom was barefoot now but standing up to his full height by the bed, an expression on his face that she wasn't acquainted with. "Or what?" He sneered with sarcasm, so far from the sweet boy she knew.

With an eye roll, she dropped the night dress on the bed. Tom had already broken so many rules within the past minute, but she was feeling clement. After all, unlike him, she had enjoyed herself immensely at dinner.

"What is it, Thomas? Why are you being so fussy tonight?" She sighed with resignation. As much as his attitude was grating on her nerves, she needed to know that he was alright. "Come on, sit down," she ordered gently, patting the mattress next to her.

"No!"

"No?" She was giving him one last chance.

To her surprise, Tom groaned, his hands tightening into fists for a moment before loosening again. "No, I will not sit down just because you told me to, not after..."

Her patience with him was thinning down to a hair width. This was not how she had envisioned their evening, but she would spend the night punishing him if she had to.

"Either you tell me exactly what's going on, Thomas, or you'll spend the next couple of days with a painful bottom," she promised, crossing her arms over her chest and just barely resisting tapping her foot on the floor.

His face changed at once. Tom knew those weren't idle threats. He winced, remembering the last time she had uttered those words. Still, he couldn't shake off the fury that gnawed at him from the inside.

"I did not like our waiter tonight, nor the way you behaved with him." Tom finally confessed though his voice remained petulant.

She was unable to hold back a scoff. Was her good boy acting out because he was jealous? "Really? I thought he was very efficient, and I treated him the same respect I do all other people."

Tom's eyes widened at her statement and suddenly all she could see was their light, vibrant blue. “He spent the entire evening with his eyes glued onto your cleavage! He touched your hand when he filled your glass! And you didn't even say anything, you just let him do it!" He spat accusatorily.

A tantrum, then, she concluded, leaning back against the wall with an amused smirk as she sized him up. Thomas has misbehaved in the past - some small misdemeanours here or there that had warranted a proportionate disciplinary response from her - but this was on an entirely different level. For some reason, punishment didn't seem like the appropriate response this time around.

"Very well, Tom. You've made your case and I’ve listened." She saw it in his eyes, relief washing over the sizzling emotion that she now recognised as jealousy. "What is your solution?"

Tom didn't manage to hide his reaction at her words. He felt put on the spot, her taunting stare intimidating him more than any handcuffs or collar ever could, and without the comfort that came with them. The usually eloquent man stuttered. "I don't know, mistress," he admitted, all sudden burst of courage gone but the look on her face let him know she wasn’t satisfied with the answer. "I just need to know you're as much mine as I'm yours, mistress."

He was back to being her good boy, it appeared, puppy eyes begging to be forgiven for his previous outburst. She licked her lower lip, anticipating the fun that was to come, before nodding as she tilted her head. This was a great occasion for a lesson, she decided. "Let me be yours, then. You have my permission."

Tom blinked once, then twice. Stunned didn’t begin to cover it. Was she really...? No, it couldn't be. "I'm quite not sure I understand, mistress."

She cocked her brow at his reaction. Oh, this was going to be so much better than a movie or a soak. Lightly waving her hand at herself, she made it crystal clear to him.

"I'm yours tonight, to do as you please." Thomas gulped at her offer - no - her command, feeling his Adam's apple tightening just like his trousers. "Claim me, mark me, ravish me. Whatever you want - I can take it.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “Isn't that what you wanted, darling?" She goaded him.

Tom was taken aback, so much so, he didn’t know what to say, let alone what to do. He’d never been in this position before. With other women, sure. But her? His mistress? His only mistress? He wouldn’t lie and pretend the thought had never crossed his mind, but it was never more than some delirious fantasies that taunted him when she kept him teetering on the edge for hours on end and his sanity became scarce. Tom tried to recall what he did to all the women before her, how he had his way with them before… before his mistress helped him discover who he was and what he truly needed.

He gazed upon her again, taking in the way she was waiting for him to do something, head cocked expectantly, exposing the slender column of her neck, the upward tilt op her lip never quite turning into a smirk yet not straying far from it. She was taunting him, testing him. Tom that even if he seized control now, it would be at her demand. No matter what he did, she’d still have the upper hand. She was not giving herself to him the way he gave herself to her. No, she was simply humouring him like a pet. And it made him want nothing more than to make her choke on her words.

I can take it, she’d said. He would be the judge of that, he vowed.

With two long strides, he crossed the room, stopping only he had crowded her against the navy wall. Even with the black high heels she fancied, Tom towered over her. His fingers went to her chin, tilting her face upwards and forcing her to look into his eyes before he leant down and kissed her ferociously. He let his tongue invade her mouth, the back of her head hitting the wall behind her as their teeth clicked together. And then he hesitated, a small pause in his moves as if he waited once again for her permission. Instead, she smiled against his lips, encouraging him silently and then gasped in mouth under the reprised assault, surprising both of them with the sweet sound.

Tom broke off the kiss, tracing his lips along her jawline before settling on the soft spot beneath her earlobe. She flinched against him when he started sucking on her skin, stopping only to alternate with nibbles. To his surprise, she didn’t protest. In lieu of that, she was oddly compliant under his touch even as the guilty feeling that he was doing something naughty and forbidden invaded him. Would she punish him later? Shaking off these thoughts, he thrust up his hips, pressing the outline of his throbbing erection against her lower stomach. Her shaky, shallow breaths were driving him mad.

He had perhaps expected that she would rock her hips against him, rub herself on him like a cat in heat. Tom should have known better than to predict her reactions. She slid her hand between their bodies, cupping his balls and the base of his erection, adding yet another layer between his cock and the sweet cunt he so desired. His lips went slack against her neck. She knew just how much pressure to apply, knew what drove him wild better than he himself did. After all, she was his mistress. She also knew he hadn’t been granted permission to cum for the past three days.

His hand fisted her hair tightly, pulling on it and giving her no choice but to look up at him. She was beautiful like this; he had never seen her from this angle. Like a black rose, it was beautiful to look at, but unnatural. She then had the audacity to grin, her hand never stopping its languid caress, not even when he tilted her head so back far, she was looking up at the ceiling. The position exposed all her elegant neck to him. Tom could spot the frantic pulsing of her artery just next to the hickey he had sucked onto her skin. He should cover her in hickeys, he decided; her neck, of course, but also her collarbones, her breasts, the dips on her hips and the skin on her inner thighs that was softer than velvet and silk combined.

An opportunist, she had used his short distraction to loosen up his belt just enough to slither her small hand inside his trousers and boxers. He gasped at her touch, warm breath puffing against her skin before he seized her wandering hand without a warning, pinning it on the wall above her head.

Tom glared down at her, nostrils flared and eyes dark; a silent warning. She wasn’t used to submitting, he wasn’t even sure she had done it before. He half expected her to call out their safe word, to say ‘opium’ and have him stop it all. He halted, giving her the chance do so, even as he desired nothing more than to throw her on the bed and fuck her into the mattress. He had the strength for it, he could overpower her easily anytime, but his limbs didn’t obey. It felt forbidden, even with her permission.

She chuckled devilishly as if his grip on her hair didn’t cause her any pain even when she did so. “That’s it, big boy? Where did all that fury of yours go?” She was egging him on again. And for a moment, he was able to picture it in his mind. The large, burning imprint of his hand on her ass, the smudged mascara underneath her eyes as he made her choke on his cock. “Cat got your tongue and your brain?”

That did it. “Shut up,” Tom ordered at the same time as he pulled her off the wall, steering her to the bed with his grip on her head before forcefully throwing her down on the mattress face first. Spotting the zipper running along the back of elegant silk dress, he gave the garment a chance but ended up ripping it open at the seams when it got stuck. His patience was running out. “Scoot over. I want you right in the centre.”

She did as he asked without a single word. Moving to the middle of the mattress, she left behind her torn dress and lied down on her back, showing off her lingerie. It was black and lacy, and intricate. He wanted to destroy it the same way you felt driven to pluck the prettiest flower. She propped herself up on her elbows, spreading her legs and showing him her pretty little cunt through the crotchless panties as Tom took his time taking off his clothes at the end of the bed.

“You’re such a wanton vixen,” he told her. His fear that he was perhaps taking it too far was stilled when he watched her fingers graze over her clit. “Don’t touch what’s mine.” She obeyed, though she sported a Cheshire cat grin. It would be gone soon.

Tom crawled his way over her body, his broader shoulders caging her in, a growl escaping his throat as his pulsing cock slid along the warm skin of her thigh, leaving behind a trail of precum. He brought his face to hers and she parted her lips, expecting a kiss. He bit down on her neck instead, not strongly enough to draw blood but enough for it to sting. And sting it did, her back arching up like a tense bow.

Freeing one hand, he opened the front of her bra with no struggle. The lace fell apart, revealing her ample breasts to his eyes. Tom inhaled sharply at the sight of her pebbled nipples before sliding lower and seizing one between his teeth, nibbling on the sensitive nub mercilessly. Her lips canted up against his as she moaned, head thrown back against the pillow. She was enjoying it, her hand clutching his curls firmly, but not pulling him off. In fact, he decided, she was enjoying this way too much.

Tom let go of her breast, grinning at the offended look she shot him. She wasn’t used to being denied her pleasure. A bit hypocritical, he sniggered. He was determined to make her regret all those times she had tied him to the headboard, the hours she had spent teasing him, edging him, leaving him wanting, the bloody cock cage she had made him wear for a week after disobeying her. “As much as I love your pretty face, I have other plans for you tonight.” He groaned, and then without giving her time for the words to sink in, he spun her around on her belly.

She tried raising herself up on her elbows, but Tom didn’t let her, applying enough pressure between her shoulder blades to get the message across. Still, somehow, she managed to turn her head sideways, mouth parted as she struggled for air. “You’ll pay for this, darling,” she promised all too confidently but didn’t utter the safe word. He spanked her ass.

“Let us first see if you’re still able to do anything after this,” Tom teased as he forced his knees between her legs, prying them open and putting her tempting cunt on display. She smelled ripe.

Holding himself up on one hand next to her head, he moved to cover her body with his, casting a shadow all around her frame. With his free hand, Tom gripped his cock. He was still hard. Not that it was a surprise: when was he ever not hard in her presence?

Tom stroked his iron shaft twice before moving his long fingers to her core. Her probed at her warm, delicate folds. She was wet, though not soaked the way she only got after he’d spent ages worshipping her pussy. He guided himself to her entrance, making her feel his glans pressing against her opening.

This would hurt sweetly without more foreplay – she was a small, little thing and him the opposite. And yet, she didn’t even flinch, her eyes didn’t waver, quite the contrary. She was daring him to do it, looking back at him over her shoulder with curled lips. Tom had never been allowed inside her without her explicit permission – often after pitiful begging on his part. Gauging her reaction, he pointed his cock at her tiny puckered hole instead. Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply, preparing herself for the painful intrusion. Still no safe word. She was tough to crack, Tom realised, not unimpressed before aligning himself with her pussy again. He didn’t dare take her last virgin hole with no preparation, desecrate his mistress like that.

His arm shook as he held up his weight. One thrust, that’s all it would take. He’d fuck her the way he had imagined himself doing countless times before, when his love for her blurred at the border between hatred and love, enmity and devotion, when she deemed his begging not sincere enough or made him plead even for an orgasm by his own hand like a dutiful puppet.

He wanted nothing more than to have his cock engulfed by her warmth. His cock begged him for it. She was waiting for him to thrust in, propping up her ass invitingly, the slope of her back acute. She was beautiful, face up or face down. She was everything Tom had ever desired in a woman. And yet, to him, she looked wrong in this position. He groaned in frustration, sweaty curls clinging to his forehead as his arm kept shaking. This was not how she was meant to be taken, to be pleasured. Just like you wouldn’t drink champagne from a dirty, plastic goblet, Tom couldn’t bring himself to fuck her like this, like an animal.

Letting out the most frustrated of growls, he seized her shoulder, turning her around without a warning before letting himself fall down on the mattress next to her. “I can’t do it,” he confessed, voice cracking.

Tom saw in the way her lips suddenly smirked and her eyes twinkled, finally understanding why she had never seemed apprehensive. His mistress had known all along he wouldn't be able to go through with it, even if he himself thought he could. She had called him on his bluff and won.

"Of course, you could not do it, darling," she cooed, sitting up next to him. "Do you want to know why?" Her fingers traced the line of his jaw almost condescendingly.

Tom swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he stared up at her. His previous boldness had left without leaving a trace. "Please, mistress."

She smiled again even as she slid a leg over his chest, enclosing him between the warmth of her thighs. And then, leaning down, she whispered into his ear as if sharing a great secret. "Because, my sweet boy, it’s not in your nature to take by force. You want to please me and earn what I give to you.” She murmured seductively. “Am I wrong?"

Tom shook his head almost at once, the need to please her surging in him at her words. She was never wrong, not when it came to him. And when she moved up to sit on his face, all he could do was mouth a breathless thank you for being allowed to touch her even after his misbehaving before his need to be her good boy drove him to her cunt.

She kept one hand wrapped tightly in his curls, the other one holding onto to the headboard to keep steady. Her sweet Tom was indeed very talented with his tongue, she barely had to guide him at all but that still didn't mean she'd let go of her tight grip anytime soon. "Such a good boy," she praised him, more breathless than she liked to admit. "Licking your mistress's cunt so well." Tom whimpered against her clit; praise always got him needy and she enjoyed his desperate sounds almost as much as she did his tongue.

Close to orgasm, she decided to reward him for his eager work. Her hand left the headboard, searching for his to place it on her breast. She moved her eyes, finding that his hand was no longer clutching the bed sheets in desperate need like it had been seconds ago.

Craning her neck backwards to look over shoulders even as the first pleasures started sparkling and erupting from her clit, she spotted his hand snaking along his side to his weeping cock which had already formed a small, sticky puddle on his navel.

She managed to seize his disobedient hand just before she came, twisting and squeezing it painfully in her fist even as she rocked against his face through the waves of her orgasm, with no regard to his breathing.

With one last deep breath even as Tom still lapped at her juices, she moved away from his mouth and went to straddle his chest, covering him in her slick. He was panting, eyes closed with a furrow between his brows even as she felt him thrust up his hips into thin air, seeking an inexistent friction. What a sweet, needy boy, too bad he couldn't control himself.

Before she could even say anything, Tom apologised the moment his eyes blinked open. "I'm sorry, mistress," he exhaled.

She rubbed his bruising knuckles with her thumb, etching a look of concern on her face and she saw the way his expression visibly relax at her soft smile. God, she loved toying with him, especially when he misbehaved. "You'll make up for your disobedience with your big cock, won't you, darling?" She cooed.

The thought of finally sinking his cock inside had him nodding eagerly at her, sweaty curls bouncing like a halo around his angelic face. "Yes, mistress. Anything you want."

Oh, she wanted this alright, she mused as she reached out her hand to gently cup his cheek, a smile ghosting on her lips. She scooted over, moving backwards to straddle his hips. His cock was the prettiest shade of pink and the hardest kind of iron.

With a finger she lightly traced the vein running along the underside of his shaft, noticing how he moaned even as he fought the urge to rock up against her touch. It was adorable, the way he was trying to be good now that she’d chastised him. She decided not to tell him it was too late for any of that now.

Instead, she slid her wet cunt along his shaft, the frown of desperate concentration on his eyes more than making up for the slight discomfort on her sensitive folds. How long since she had last let him cum, she wondered, knowing this was going to be torture for him. The loud gasp that escaped his throat when she wrapped her hand firmly around the base of his cock only served as further proof.

Tom's eyes were bright and wide, unable to focus on a particular image as his mistress lowered herself on his desperate cock; the sight of himself disappearing inside her tight channel, the bouncing of her breasts as she moved languorously and languidly, or perhaps, those five seconds of deep intake of air during which her eyes closed and her face lost that regal composure of hers before she got used to the stretch.

"How does that feel, darling?" She asked him with the smile of someone who already knew the answer, in rhythm with her riding of him. She never moved with short, clear-cut thrusts, her hips smoothly undulating instead in a way that had him helpless and feeling the tightening in his gut surging way too soon.

"Very good, mistress," he managed to reply though it came out strangled, his muscles have begun tensing and his fingers itching to touch his mistress. Tom knew better this time.

She seemed satisfied with his response, picking up a faster pace above him. Watching Tom's face contort with bliss brought her just as much pleasure as the rutting of his cock. Tendons straining against his throat, eyes tightly shut and anguished whimpers escaping his parted lips. She anticipated his pleas the moment Tom opened his eyes like a wild animal blinded by the lights. "I need to cum. Please, mistress," he begged, knuckles turning white around the crumpled bedsheets. "Please let me cum."

Her hand moved to his throat, finger pads digging softly into his skin for balance. He loved her hand there, it was a reassurance and a threat all at once and he keened under her touch. She shook her head softly. "No."

The single word startled him as much as her increased pace. He was too close, he wouldn't be able to- "Please, mistress," Tom whined and blabbered, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before running down his sharp cheeks as he fought his release until his muscles trembled.

Still, she took no mercy, shushing him with a finger on his lips. As her orgasm crept closer at a dizzying pace, the look of focus and torment on his sweet, angelic face became almost too much to bear. He was trying so hard to be her good boy, it was beyond adorable.

So, when she tightened around him like a vice as bliss took over her mind and Tom let out the loudest strangled moan, she knew he was bound to fail her command no matter his determination and finally took pity on his anguish. "Cum for me, darling."

Tom tried to thank her for the privilege of filling her with his cum but his control burst at her permission before he was able to say anything intelligible. Instead, he cried out as he came in her, spurt after spurt.

Still coming down from her own high, she climbed off of Tom and then sat down next to him, moving his head to rest on her thigh. She decided to reserve his punishment for tomorrow, noticing his need for aftercare. She'd learned to expect his vulnerability after an orgasm, his longing to be held tightly and true enough, he moved to his side and hugged her waist. "You're okay, darling?" She asked, or rather, cooed.

Tom nuzzled into her thigh, a soft smile on his thin lips. "Yes, mistress, thank you," he mumbled against her skin and then she heard the slight shift in his voice. "I am sorry, for earlier..."

She smiled down at him, brushing his sweaty curls off of his forehead. "I know, sweetie."

It was a struggle then to get him out of bed and into the bathroom, with him holding on to her for dear life. But a small order from her and Tom complied, following her into the shower where she had him kneeling on the floor before her with his face pressed to her sternum as she washed his hair. Her sweet boy wouldn’t like what tomorrow held for him.

#tom hiddleston smut #sub!tom #tom hiddleston x reader

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asweetprologue · 4 years ago

Text

the process of rewarming

Octoberfest 6: Hypothermia (whumptober #21)

Read on ao3

Kaedwin was sharply beautiful in the winter. Every surface glinted like polished crystal, the world coated in a fine layer of ice and snow. Blankets of white muffled the countryside, broken by the intimidating bulk of the northern mountains. The thick pine forests were heavy with snow, the trees bowing under the weight of winter in full swing. Above them, the sky was a steel gray that promised more harsh weather to come.

The path that they walked was narrow and slick, the unforgiving mass of the mountain rising on their left and sloping downwards treacherously on their right. Jaskier paused, his breath puffing out before him as he spared a moment to look out over the countryside. The entire scene was cast in sharp black and white, the snow, trees and mountains beyond forming a stunning but severe monotone. It was bitterly cold, the icy fingers of the northern wind stabbing under each and every gap in his thick winter clothing.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice came from ahead. Jaskier looked away from the view, though the sight he turned to face was no less stunning. The witcher was just as bundled up as Jaskier, his armor traded out for a thick cloak and a padded coat, the rest of his usual gear loaded onto Roach. He looked even larger than usual, the bulky clothes adding extra breadth to his shoulders. His golden eyes glinted in the light reflecting off the snow, though the rest of his face was cast into shadow by the hood he had pulled over his head. Roach snorted beside him, shaking her mane out and tugging at the reins in Geralt’s hands. The path was small enough that Geralt had to walk her, not willing to risk a wrong step. “We need to keep moving,” he said, nodding up the mountain. “If we don’t reach Kaer Morhen by night we’ll be stuck in the snow.”

The clouds above did seem to be growing ever darker. Jaskier nodded, jaw clenched to hide his chattering teeth. Geralt’s eyebrows came together in a frown when he didn’t respond verbally, but Jaskier could do little to assuage his worries.

This was the first time that he’d been invited to travel to Kaer Morhen with Geralt, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up by complaining about the cold. If Geralt thought Jaskier couldn’t handle the journey, he’d never let him come along again. So yes, his fingers were nearly numb and his eyes were burning from the wind and his feet were clumsy as he followed Geralt up the path, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Not if it meant Geralt taking back his invitation in future years.

So Jaskier hunched his shoulders and continued after the witcher in silence.

They were, Geralt said, no more than an hour or two away from the Kaer Morhen valley, and from there it was an easy walk up to the keep itself. The path that they currently walked was the most difficult part of the journey, made worse by the fact that they’d gotten a late start. Geralt had been finishing up a contract near Oxenfurt, and they’d only barely made it to the pass before it was closed for the winter. The snows had begun falling in earnest a week ago, and by the time they’d made it to the northern mountains they had been well and truly covered in ice and snow. There was nothing for it, however, so they’d started their reluctant way up. They’d been at it for a few days, but this area was clearly the riskiest. Jaskier had seen how Geralt’s mouth had gone thin when they discussed the last leg of the journey, but he hadn’t commented on it.

They walked in silence for another half an hour or so before the path leveled out, splitting again into two diverging trails. The first led downwards, into what looked like a thin vale. As Jaskier followed Geralt along the other path leading further upwards, he could see that the trail below widened into a small valley. There was a river that ran parallel to their track, and here it widened into something almost large enough to be a lake. The water moved fast enough that it had not completely frozen over, only the edges glinting with sharp ice. It was some twenty feet below them, the mountainside sloping downwards sharply to meet the pool. The frigid waters reflected the light of the low hanging sun, throwing a shifting mosaic onto the cliffside across from them. It was a stunning scene, begging to be captured through pen or song.

Perhaps it was because he was so taken by the environment that Jaskier stumbled. One moment he was staring out over the small valley, and the next his feet were rapidly sliding out from under him. The patch of ground in front of him that he’d assumed was solid crumbled beneath his heel, snow tumbling away and taking him with it. The thick blanket of snow on the path shifted, moving to fill the space abandoned through Jaskier’s misstep. He found himself slipping, drawn towards the edge of the cliff as if a tide was rushing over him. Jaskier fell, already half over the edge of the cliffside and headed towards the valley below.

Suddenly he was being tugged roughly up and to the side. Geralt’s hands were insistent, grabbing the front of Jaskier’s coat and pulling. Jaskier could feel the snow and ice beneath them still slipping, and he met Geralt’s eyes in a panic. If Geralt didn’t move, they would both go over with the crumbling mountainside.

Geralt’s face was set with determination. With a heave, he pulled Jaskier up and twisted at the same time, shoving Jaskier out of the way even as Geralt tumbled over the side of the cliff.

“No!” Jaskier launched himself forward, trying to catch something - a sleeve, a hand, anything - but he met empty air. The snow under him shifted, and Jaskier scrambled backwards again to avoid going over the edge. He stared at the blank space where Geralt had been, dread making his breaths come in stuttering gasps. Across the decimated path, Roach snorted, pawing at the ground in agitation.

Jaskier stumbled to his feet, heart in his throat. It wasn’t so far of a fall, he thought. Geralt could survive a twenty foot drop easily, especially if the snow had cushioned his fall. He was probably fine. Jaskier just had to find a way to get down to him, as quickly as possible.

Once he’d managed to retrieve Roach, Jaskier swiftly backtracked down the path until he found the spot where the two roads diverged. He urged Roach down along the other trail until it began to widen out, leading into the little valley. The snow here was thick and heavy, having fallen from the nearby cliff sides and collected below. Jaskier had to shove himself through it, feeling the damp powder making its way into his boots. He ignored it, making his way as quickly as he could back towards the lake. Roach followed behind him slowly, her reins gripped tightly in his gloved hand. Geralt would be fine. He had to be. Jaskier just had to find him, and then they could continue to Kaer Morhen and he would have all winter to convince Geralt that this was all just a spot of bad luck. It would be a good argument. Jaskier just needed to find him.

It took longer than he would have liked to make their way to the side of the pond. Jaskier began to look around frantically, trying to figure out exactly where Geralt had gone over. The upper path loomed above them, seeming higher up from this angle than Jaskier remembered. The snow was disrupted in many places, probably from various animals passing through the valley. Jaskier couldn’t tell where Geralt had come down, he couldn’t see anything but the snow, already covering up his own tracks, let alone any signs of Geralt -

There was a cough.

Jaskier sprang into action, abandoning Roach as he rushed toward the sound. There was a small overhang on the west side of the vale, against the wall their path had been on. When he neared, he could see that there was a line drawn through the snow from the side of the lake, as if something had been dragged through it in places. Jaskier felt his heart crawl up into his throat. Until now, he’d refused to think about what would happen if Geralt had fallen in the lake. He ran towards the overhang, following the shallow path through the snow.

Geralt was slumped under it, in a small clearing where the snow had been unable to fully reach because of the overhang. Jaskier could immediately see that something was wrong as he crashed to Geralt’s side. The witcher’s skin was even paler than usual, his lips tinged blue. His white hair fell in frozen sheets around him, and his wet clothes had already turned icy in places. He looks dead, Jaskier thought suddenly, and it was the worst thought that he’d ever had. Bile pushed up into his throat, but he forced it back, instead cradling Geralt’s face in his hands. His skin was so cold Jaskier could feel it through his gloves. Holding his own breath, he moved his face close to Geralt’s slightly parted lips.

After a long moment, he felt a puff of air against his cheek. Relief hit Jaskier like a punch in the chest, his fingers tingling with it.

Witchers could survive low temperatures better than humans could, he knew, but he also knew that the process of warming them up was troublesome. Their hearts were so slow - a blessing and a curse. It would keep him alive even as his limbs shut down, but it would be harder to get him back to a normal temperature for the same reason.

Alright. Alright. He had to focus. One step at a time. Geralt’s cloak was in a pile next to him, one edge slightly singed. He must have been trying to light a fire, Jaskier realized, but the cloth had been too saturated. Step one, he thought, forcing himself to concentrate on the problem at hand. Wet, freezing clothes had to come off. Jaskier hated the idea of exposing Geralt’s pale, damp skin to the open air, but he knew that the stiff coat he wore now wouldn’t do him any good. He reached out and started prying the fabric away, one layer at a time.

It was hard work, much of the clothing already coated in thin sheets of ice. Jaskier pulled and tugged and shifted until he finally wrestled Geralt out of his thick, useless coat. The layers underneath were just as soaked, but not yet quite as frozen. Jaskier stripped Geralt down as quickly as he could, leaving him bare. He didn’t even shiver, just lying on the cold ground with his breath barely forming clouds in the cold air. Jaskier hurried to Roach.

They had extra clothes in their saddlebags, cotton shirts and pants and a few blankets. Jaskier grabbed them without looking, arms piled high with material as he fell back to Geralt’s side. He pulled two shirts over Geralt’s head, and then laid down a blanket to protect him from the cold ground and rolled him onto it. The freezing earth would leach heat away from him just as surely as the snow or wet clothes would. Satisfied with Geralt’s position, Jaskier fumbled with his pants and socks until he was at least mostly clothed.

Step one completed. Step two: shelter. The ledge was something, but they were still exposed to the elements. He didn’t have the time to go hunting for branches to make a lean-to, and there was very little foliage this high up the mountain anyways. They had a wax treated canvas sheet rolled up behind Roach’s saddle, but he had to find some way to mount it if he wanted to keep the snow off of them.

Roach, bless her, was standing utterly still, clearly aware that something was going on. Jaskier headed back to her, and unclipped Geralt’s swords from their place against her side. They were all he had to work with in terms of any sort of scaffolding, so they would have to do. After grabbing the canvas, Jaskier shuffled through the path of snow back to Geralt. He leaned both swords against the back wall of the cliff, near Geralt’s head, spaced a fair distance apart. The canvas he dragged out and looped over each sword, the heavy weight of them pinning the rough fabric to the wall and holding it several feet above Geralt’s head. The other end of the canvas he dragged out until he reached the snow, half a foot or so away from Geralt’s toes. It was easy work to find a couple of stones to hold the end in place, resulting in a sloped little shelter.

It would have to do for now. He wanted to make step three a fire, but Jaskier had to admit that he wasn’t great at starting them on the best of days. He never had to; Geralt always just snapped a finger and the kindling was crackling merrily away. They could make one later, when Geralt woke up and was cross about how cold their little tent was. They could always do it later. Grabbing the rest of the blankets from Roach, Jaskier gave her a quick kiss on the nose. He felt bad to leave her saddled and free to wander around, but he had to trust that she would be alright. Geralt needed him.

Decided, Jaskier scrambled inside of the makeshift shelter, careful not to pull too hard at the canvas. Geralt lie on the blanket inside, still absolutely still. Jaskier could see that his chest was rising and falling shallowly, but it didn’t truly assuage his fears. Tugging off a glove, he laid a hand on Geralt’s cheek and nearly winced. The witcher’s skin was freezing, as cold as the snow outside.

There was nothing for it. Jaskier began tugging off his own clothes, wincing at the frigid air as it assaulted him. Geralt needed body heat to warm up, if they couldn’t have a fire. He left his boots and pants on, but everything else came off. After a moment of consideration he laid the coat and shirt along the seam of the canvas, blocking more of the harsh wind from entering their delicate abode. That done, he shucked off Geralt’s twin layers of shirts as well, now that they were no longer so exposed to the elements. Grabbing the remaining blankets that he’d pulled from Roach, Jaskier covered the both of them fully and laid down next to Geralt in the small, cold space he’d created.

It was like laying down next to a block of ice, like one of the dazzling sculptures that sat in the square in Novigrad during the yule festivals. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s bare chest, gooseflesh erupting across his skin as it met Geralt’s. He was so cold, Jaskier thought, shivering as he huddled with Geralt beneath the mess of blankets. How could anyone survive being this cold? He felt dead already, his slow heartbeat even slower now as it sluggishly tried to keep his blood pumping. Jaskier tucked himself close, putting his head under Geralt’s chin as his own heart seized in his chest. He didn’t know what he would do if Geralt wasn’t okay - not just how he would get down this fucking mountain, or face Geralt’s family, or, fuck, how he would tell Ciri. He didn’t know what he would do, if Geralt wasn’t there anymore. A crushing void threatened to open in his chest just at the thought of it.

And it would be his fault besides. All for forcing Geralt to take him on this bloody journey to Kaer Morhen, where he’d never even asked Jaskier to come. Jaskier had asked, begged even, said, But I want to meet your family and Ciri needs someone who knows how to tell a good story and I miss you, when we’re apart. And Geralt had caved, eventually, allowing Jaskier to come along where he wasn’t even wanted. Now he was going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere, because of Jaskier.

A sob fell from his lips before he could stop it, a few stray tears sliding from his cheeks to land on Geralt’s collarbone. The small space under the blankets was growing, if not warm, then something less than freezing, so hopefully his tears wouldn’t freeze in place. Sniffling, Jaskier gathered Geralt’s hands in his own, still icy to the touch, and pressed them between their bodies. Geralt would be furious if he couldn’t wield a sword anymore because of something as silly as frostbite.

It felt like they laid there for ages, and Geralt did not wake. Jaskier was anxious to the point of nausea and bored besides, wanting to pace and fret but unwilling to move an inch from his spot by Geralt. The occasional flurry and the cold ground under them ensured that the space never grew truly warm, but Jaskier found his skin becoming sticky with sweat where he was pressed to Geralt. How often had he thought of this, he wondered, on nights when they would share a bed or a bench in the tavern? He’d feel Geralt’s bulk against him through his clothes and his heart rate would pick up, his cheeks flushing as he thought about what it would be like, to feel Geralt skin to skin. To be held by him as a lover. They were silly thoughts. Geralt wasn’t interested, Jaskier knew that. He barely tolerated his presence after all these years. It wasn’t Geralt’s fault Jaskier couldn’t keep his heart to himself.

After an age, Geralt started to shiver. Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief; it meant the worst had passed.

Jaskier scrambled out of the small tent as soon as he was relatively sure Geralt wouldn’t immediately die without him there. Step four: fire. Before heading up into the mountains, Geralt had filled a burlap sack with some light pieces of wood, explaining that the terrain provided little by way of kindling along the mountain path. Jaskier tugged back on his coat and gloves and retrieved the sack from Roach, who was waiting with an air of impatience outside of their shelter. Jaskier dumped the bag to the side and set about clearing an area to put the fire. The extra snow he piled up around the little area, building a short wall that reached about halfway up to the overhang protecting their little spot. Hopefully it would help shelter them from the wind and keep the fire lit.

It took him forever to get the flint and tinder to agree with him, even using a clean, dry shirt from his pack as tinder. His fingers were clumsy and numb with the cold, and he was inexperienced with the tools. Eventually a spark flew from the stone in his fingers to the fabric and caught, and Jaskier hurriedly leaned down to blow on it gently. Once the piece was well and truly burning, he pulled a few of the smaller sticks from the bag of kindling and added them until a little fire was casting odd shadowing against the wall of the cliff and Geralt’s unconscious form.

Sitting back with a sigh, Jaskier gave himself a brief moment to warm his fingers before he refocused on Geralt. The warmth of the fire would reach him better without the canvas in the way, and with the pile of snow now blocking more of the outside air, Jaskier felt it was better to expose him somewhat. He moved one of the swords holding up the canvas tent cover until it was open on one side, letting the warmth of the fire into the small space.

Finally finished, Jaskier stripped his coat back off and huddled under the blankets with Geralt once again. Over the next hour or so, he stirred only to put more kindling on the fire, trying to keep it at a small, steady flame that wouldn’t burn through their supply of wood for too long. They would need it to last them through most of the night.

He was dozing slightly when he felt Geralt shift beneath him. Instantly he was wide awake, shooting upwards and almost knocking over the canvas. He stared down at Geralt, who was blinking up at him sluggishly. The little tent was almost warm now, the heat of the fire trapped at least partially within the makeshift walls. Geralt moved as if he was going to sit up, but Jaskier put a hand on his chest to still him, the movement agitated.

“Don’t,” he said, quietly. “You - Are you alright? How do you feel?”

Geralt was still looking at him with a confused expression on his face, like he was trying to piece together exactly where he was and what Jaskier was doing there. “Jaskier,” he said, his voice full of gravel and grit, “what happened?”

Unable to be anything but blunt, Jaskier said, “You fell in a lake. My fault, I’m afraid. Can you feel your toes? I’m terribly worried about them.”

Geralt made a face. “They burn, so yeah,” he said with a grunt. In the small space between their chests, his fingers twitched. Jaskier forced himself not to flush. “Witchers don’t get frostbite,” Geralt continued, still shifting here and there as if to assess the damage.

“How does that track,” Jaskier said faintly. The relief he felt was dizzying; now that he was awake, Geralt seemed to be recovering even faster. His cheeks had a slightly pink tinge to them, and Jaskier could feel that his heart rate was elevated.

“We heal from it, if we get it,” Geralt replied. “Roach?”

“Just outside,” Jaskier said, unable to stop a fond smile from flitting across his lips. Of course Geralt would be more worried about the horse than his own health. “Very cross at us for making her stand out in the wind, I’m sure.”

“I should take a White Raffords, probably,” Geralt mused, almost to himself. He looked tired; his eyes had that half present quality they sometimes did when he came out of a long meditation session. He met Jaskier’s gaze again, tracing over Jaskier’s face and then down his neck and chest. Jaskier swallowed. “Are you alright?” Geralt asked him, tone subdued.

Jaskier felt a spike of anger and grief shoot through him, forcing him to inhale sharply. He wanted to box Geralt around the ears a bit, and only refrained because the man was in a delicate state. “Of course I’m alright, Geralt, you self sacrificing piece of horse shit! I’m the one you shoved out of the way and fell into a frozen lake at the bottom of a ravine for!” He fisted one hand in the blankets around them, mortified to find tears pricking at his eyes. He looked away, trying to hide the evidence of his guilt.

He felt cool fingers suddenly on his jaw, forcing him to turn back towards Geralt. The witcher’s face was soft, eyes hooded with exhaustion and what looked like affection. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. “I’d do it again,” Geralt said, tired but full of conviction.

“I’m not worth it,” Jaskier said, sniffling. Geralt’s palm was warming up on his face, more and more alive with each passing moment. Jaskier wished he could do that all the time - give Geralt more warmth and life and love just through a touch. “Not your life.”

“You are,” Geralt said, with a finality that brokered no argument. His fingers skimmed down from Jaskier’s jaw and over his shoulder, until it stopped to rest against the center of his back. Holding him close. Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, a barely there press. His lips were still a little cold, drawing a shiver from the bard. When he collapsed back, he pulled Jaskier with him, curling around him beneath the blankets. “You are,” he said again, into Jaskier’s hair. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I wasn’t prepared to protect you.”

“You didn’t ask,” Jaskier said, blinking against the skin of Geralt’s neck. He was a bit dazed, still feeling the phantom of the kiss like a cool burn. “I did.”

Geralt huffed against him. “I said Ciri missed you,” he said, his fingers spread wide and comforting on Jaskier's back. Tracing around his spine in soothing circles. “I said you’d beat Lambert at gwent, and that Eskel would like that egg thing you make in the mornings, and that you would find a million songs to write about Kaer Morhen in the winter. I thought I was clear enough.” Jaskier felt a puff of warm air against the top of his head, a cold nose in his hair. “Sorry. Will you come to Kaer Morhen with me?”

Jaskier laughed, a sound half choked by tears. “It’s a bit late in the year,” he said, shuffling closer. “A bit of a big thing to spring on a fellow at the last minute.”

Geralt hummed, a sleepy sound that Jaskier knew meant he was dropping off. The little shelter around them was warm, and he knew they would be alright until Geralt woke again. “Next year,” Geralt murmured into his hair, “I’ll ask sooner.”

“And then maybe you won’t fall into a ravine because there’s so much damn snow,” Jaskier said, sighing as he tucked himself deeper into Geralt’s side. Next year.

“Melitele willing,” Geralt said, and Jaskier felt warm all the way through.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #jaskier #geralt/jaskier #my work #october2020 #hypothermia #whump #whumptober2020 #no. 21

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hope-to-hell · 4 years ago

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I received a request for The Boys, Starlight cuckolding Hughie with Homelander, and while it’s not a kink I’m familiar with (or a fandom I’ve ever written for), well, in for a penny right? The Unbearable Effort of Balance, smut, heavy dubcon warning, passing mention of gore, angst.

I usually don’t do this, but: please reblog if you like what I’m writing.

—-

Tell him if you want. It doesn’t change anything about this, about the way your legs fall open at the touch of a glove, the way your ragged breaths shatter around what and why and listen. Listen.

Tell him if you want. But I don’t think you will. Don’t want to hurt him. Poor sweet little Hughie, fumbling weakly with your bra, breathing you in, trying to hold you like he could keep you.

Can’t keep what he never really had.

Because he can’t do this, can he,

Sweetheart. He can’t overwhelm you with the kind of too much that’s really just right. He’d look stupid in the suit, skinny, awkward. He wouldn’t,

he can’t do this. He can’t get you wet with sheer overwhelming masculine force, can’t make your head drop forward on his shoulder when you’re too far gone to hold it up. Maybe he could learn to please you with his hands since his dick is so goddamned skinny, but then again. Maybe what you need is a little less good boy and a little more man. And doesn’t that just burn you, how fucking shallow that is? You can tell yourself how much you just want a good man who loves you, but in the end what you really want in your heart of hearts, in that little wriggling black place deep down, is just to be really,

truly,

overwhelmingly fucked, til you forget your own name

but not mine, sweetheart. I want to hear my name like broken glass in your mouth. I know. I know. You don’t want it, not really. But you need it. And hell, I’ll make it easy on you. Do this, or I’ll kill him, leave him a greasy little Hughie-shaped smear on the pavement. It'd solve so many problems, but you'd cry, wouldn't you, and that just won't do. If you cry it's going to be because of me, knowing that I've ruined you for him, for anyone but me. Before this is over, sweetheart, I'll see you crying, though, when you realize what a spot you're in. When you realize

yeah, you really like it, and it's a problem. Homelander's an asshole, but he's virile, capable and skilled because as selfishly as he fucks, he wants you to feel good, to know that he's ruined you completely with pleasure as well as shame. And yeah, he wants you to go back to your boyfriend, to sweet innocent little Hughie, to feel him balls-deep inside you and know that no matter what he does, it'll never be as good as this. Sure, he can give you that little golden glow, but when's the last time he made you forget your own name? When's the last time he wore you out, really wrung you dry, till all you could do was sob and shake? Yeah,

that's what I thought.

And you can't just leave Hughie, not when he's the most reasonable person you know, and isn't that a joke? That he should bind you to him by virtue of how fucking mundane he is, by his soft and skinny ordinary-boy self, his worn-out band tees that feel so nice on your skin. No leather gloves with him, no fumbling with flaps and hidden buttons.

Fumbling, sure. Say it if you want. I'll take it out of your hide. You should know that if you feel good, it's because I want you to feel that way. I could just as easily just take what I wanted and leave you sticky and sobbing, unsatisfied. But then that wouldn't be any fun.

Fun?

Is it fun, for him? Or is it just another power play, something that’s become a reflex because he doesn’t know any other way to be? Maybe that’s it. He has strength, sure, and power, but control? Control is lacking. Not like it matters; he should know better, but it makes him so hard, doesn’t it, to see you under his heel. To see the way you try to hold yourself shut but end up with your legs over his shoulders anyway, moaning cheap and needy for him.

I could have anyone, and I chose you. Aren’t you special. Now show me how grateful you are. Come for me, sweetheart. Milk me dry.

And you do, because of course you do, because he pulls it from you whether you want it or not. It bursts all the bulbs in the lamps, and he smiles down at you amidst the shine of particulate glass.

That’s it, sweetheart. There’s my good girl.

#the boys #the boys smut #homelander #homelander smut #starlight #starlight smut #the boys fic #homelander fic #starlight fic #homelander x starlight

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Herbert West

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

“Oh, Herbert, this is-”

“Y/n. …Yes I know.” The man interrupted, prompting your awkward smile to drop momentarily. Herbert was an …interesting character, to say the least.

- You met the re-animator through Dan who’d been a friend of yours since you joined the school. Dan had sort of taken you under his wing after you first met, becoming like an older brother to you. You; being a year younger than him and away from home for the first time, were very happy to have someone looking out for you.

- Obviously, Dan was a pretty big part of your life and you were a pretty big part of his life as well. Because of this, Herbert most likely heard of or had; at the very least, seen photos of you prior to your meeting which is why he didn’t need an introduction.

- At first, Herbert finds you; like pretty much everyone else, dreadfully irritating. He’s very short and stand offish with you, only calling you miss y/l/n or a harsh sounding y/n. But that all changes when you’re finally able to speak with him alone.

- You’d stopped by Dan’s apartment one day, only to find that the only one home was Herbert who seemed very ready to close the door on you after informing you that Dan was out with Megan. You said the magic words before he was able to.

“Herbert? I haven’t really been able to speak with you until now but I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan of your work,” Bingo. “Or, rather, your theories. Dan's told me about a few of them and I find them very fascinating and well, um-”

“Why don’t you come inside Y/n?” Herbert says, a small smile on his face, one without any hidden boredom behind it.

- Prior to that, you’d never heard him speak your name without a touch of irritation to it so you were eager to do whatever you could to remain in his good graces.

- When Megan and Dan arrive back at the apartment, they’re surprised to see you and Herbert sitting in the living room and talking, or more accurately, surprised to see Herbert talking to you rather passionately about life and death.

- Dan gives you an odd look as you greet them and say how you should probably get going, the look only grows more confused as Herbert says goodbye with a seemingly rather genuine smile on his face. He doesn’t know what happened but he isn’t sure he likes it.

- From then on, Dan watches suspiciously as Herbert seems to grow more and more fond of you. He grows to somewhat dislike Herbert's sudden interest in you, especially after he finds out what the man does in his spare time and is propositioned by him. He fears that he’s trying to manipulate you into helping him.

- But that isn’t the case. No, Herbert just likes having you stroke his ego and listen to him talk about his work like he’s gods gift to earth and to you, he is.

- You thought Herbert was attractive the moment you met him, regardless of his somewhat odd and standoffish behavior. When he starts letting you into his life, your crush on him only worsens until you’re pretty much head over heels in love. So you sort of follow him around like a lost puppy and while he generally dislikes having people bother him, you become a bit of an exception.

- Over time, Herbert genuinely begins to like you, and he certainly cant deny that you’re attractive. He has a very scientific way of understanding his feelings for you, refusing to believe that love is a thing or admit that he actually has romantic feelings for you.

- He reasons that his body thinks you’re a suitable mate and that's why he cant stop thinking about you. He allows himself to lower his ego and believe that he’s not above his animalistic urges, if only to refuse that he actually loves you.

- Herbert doesn’t think of himself as one for relationships but seemingly against his own will, he yearns for one with you. So after a few days of avoiding you in an attempt to see if his feelings will fade away, he pulls you into his life once and for all, intending to never let you go.

- After things had been going so well, the sudden cold shoulder from the scientist had bothered you, so when he calls you on the phone and asks you to come by the apartment, you jump at the invitation, happy that things are back to the way they were.

- When you arrive, he leads you into the basement and sits you down, telling you to watch as he injects his reagent into one of his specimens. He watches the way you react, his body nearly pressed against your back as you stare in awe at the creature before you.

- If anyone were to walk in, they would see far more than just a man showing a friend his morbid creation. The expression on his face would say everything. To him, this is one of the most intimate things he can do. To introduce you to his work, to trust you with his findings, to explain to you how it works.

- When Dan returns home, he finds you sitting side by side in the basement, Herbert's notes and reagent sprawled out before you. A wave of discomfort rolls through him as he asks what's going on. Herbert merely says “she knows” with a small smile playing at his lips, his eyes moving to the side of your face with a look of subtle adoration.

- From then on, you’re involved in practically everything, even if Dan isn’t pleased with it. Your relationship with Herbert evolves very quickly, he’s not one for patience.

- He doesn’t verbally confess his feelings for you, not at first. Instead, he lets the tension grow between you until he’s pushing you back against his desk and kissing the life out of you.

- There’s very few times where Herbert truly loses his calm and collected composure and this is one of them, his mouth moving feverishly against yours, hands wandering, breathing shallow.

- The two of you say nothing as you part, he goes back to work and a while later you go home, a million thoughts racing through your head and your heart still beating quicker than normal.

- A few more kisses like that and the two of you wind up in bed together. By the time you’re finished, its the middle of the night. You know you should probably go home but you don’t think he’d let you with the way his arms are wrapped so tightly around you.

- You try to move and his arms tighten even further, pulling you back against him even closer. The message reads loud and clear; you’re his now and you aren’t going anywhere.

- Your relationship won’t be conventional, you knew that from the start. Nothing Herbert does is very conventional and that's something you’ve learned to accept. But for better or for worse, you’re together and there’s no signs of you ever parting.

- There’s two sides of Herbert out in public. There’s the Herbert who doesn't touch you at all, acting somewhat distant because he wants to remain professional. And then there’s the Herbert who never lets go of you, remaining close at all times and holding you in some way, shape or form.

- He’s pretty much touchy with you at all times, unless you’re in front of someone he feels he must put on airs for. Anywhere else or in front of anyone else and his hands or some part of him never leaves you.

- Deep kisses. Herbert..., how should I put this, devours you? He’s always got this tight hold on you like he’s scared you’ll part from him as he steals your breath away.

- Distracted pecks on the lips as you go to leave the room while he’s working.

- He finds it sort of amusing to startle you which he oftentimes does so without even meaning to. He’s fairly quiet so you usually don’t hear him enter the room, you only realize he’s there when you turn and nearly have a heart attack upon finding him suddenly standing near you. He’ll usually try to hide his smirk but occasionally your reaction will earn a laugh.

- Beware the flattery. If he’s complimenting you more than once in the span of a minute, he most likely wants something.

- Trying to get him to take a break and/or actually go to sleep. He gets really wrapped up in his work and won’t go to bed for literal days so occasionally you’ll just have to drag him away against his will.

- As much as he tries to avoid sleep, he’ll still have to at some point. When he does go to bed, he likes being the big spoon and holding you tightly against him.

- Sometimes he legitimately cradles you or a part of you against him, especially when you're scared or upset. He’ll usually either hold your head in his lap or quite literally wrap himself around you, speaking to you almost uncharacteristically sweetly.

- He’s somewhat touch starved. He’s never really bothered to find himself a girlfriend, thinking of them as pointless distractions, but now that he has one, he can’t help but admit that it does feel good to be touched and loved, particularly by you.

- Occasionally, he’ll have you sit on his lap as he records his data or let you write down what he says, leaning his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist.

- He doesn't use nicknames very often but occasionally he’ll let slip a “dear” or “darling”. Honey, sweetheart; generic little things that come naturally out of a persons mouth when they’re in love.

- Tight hugs while he speaks softly in your ear.

- Cheek kisses.

- Making sure he actually eats and doesn't waste away in the basement. You’ll bring him down some food if he doesn’t want to leave his things, it’s one of the rare times that you get a very earnest, pleasantly surprised yet still a little distracted thank you.

- Occasionally keeping him company down in the basement. You’ll go to leave after you do what you needed to do and he’ll call your name and say; almost shyly, “Why don't you stay? Sit down here. Keep me company”. He’ll usually let out a little laugh as well, trying to ease his feelings of awkward vulnerability.

- You're really not sure if he owns anything besides a suit. You legitimately think the only comfy thing he owns is a sweater you got for him on his birthday.

- Speaking of birthdays, he doesn't like celebrating his; mainly because he’s never really had someone to celebrate it with. He accepts your gifts almost like he isn't sure what he should say or do, usually replying with an “oh... thank you.” and a quick kiss to the cheek.

- He’s not fond of parties or social gatherings but he will go with you, mainly just to be your date and make sure you’re alright. That and he thinks your coworker has a thing for you which he is not happy about it.

- Your friends and family are most likely going to find him strange, though I think your mother or grandmother would probably fall for his carefully constructed charm and like him a lot. He isn’t ashamed to say that he’s fond of her as well, occasionally asking about her and getting a genuine smile on his face whenever he sees her.

- He may or may not constantly forget your anniversary, not because your relationship doesn't matter to him but because he’s Herbert and he doesn’t understand the intricacies of dating.

- Your pets don't like him and he’s not very fond of them ether. He stiffens when they enter the room and they leave once they see him. You find it almost amusing. On the other hand, they could also never leave him the fuck alone, absolutely adoring him while he tolerates them for your sake.

- Sarcasm and snide retorts. That’s literally just how Herbert talks so don’t take offense.

- Stopping Dan from trying to kill him whenever your boyfriend turns into an asshole and starts trouble.

- He definitely likes ordering you around a little. He’s sort of a wimpy guy so being in control of things is like a drug to him.

- Letting him ramble on about his work and accomplishments. You think he likes to hear himself speak.

- He’s not much of a small talker. Unless the conversation is about something actually meaningful or science; specifically his science, he isn't all that interested in it. Meaningless talk annoys him and he’s got more important things to do than exchange pleasantries.

- He’s not a very heavy set boy so you could pull him away from his work if you really wanted to, though I suggest you don't. You don’t want to get between him and his work.

- Being roped into his plans and work. He always manages to get you to help, even if you really don’t want to.

- I never said Herbert was nice, did I? Well, he isn’t; not completely at least. He’s oftentimes selfish and will do whatever it takes to persuade you to do something or change your mind about something. He’s a master manipulator first and loving boyfriend second.

- Bandaging him up when his work gets …rough.

- Trying to comfort him when things don't work out. He never wants to accept that its his fault so you just agree with what he says and pull him away from his work.

- Feeling bad for laughing at his somewhat morbid humor.

- Apprehensively helping him inject himself with reagent, only because you know he’ll do it anyways. He’s a stubborn bastard, all you can do is try to ween him off of it.

- He’s a scientist who works with the dead and get’s covered with blood daily, your period isn’t going to gross him out in any way. Tell him you have cramps, he’ll give you advice. Felling emotional, he’ll be a little more caring than usually. Want to cuddle, he really wants to work but seeing you desperate to hold him is worth leaving it momentarily.

- You’ll leave something of yours in his room and he’ll tell you that he put it in his bottom drawer. When you open the drawer, you’ll find that it’s empty besides the thing you were looking for. That’s how he’ll tell you he’d like you to leave some of your things there so that you don’t have to constantly leave at night or early in the morning. You’re pretty much the only one ever allowed in his room, mind you.

- He gets very jealous and he wont play nice either. He’ll openly insult them and probably get a little snappy with you too. His attitude has definitely caused at least one argument between the two of you.

- He’s ready to kill to protect you. He’s not necessarily protective of you but he doesn't want you getting hurt. He tends to pull you behind him or stop you from moving any closer to something if he’s not sure about what will happen or if it’s safe.

- He takes care of you when you’re hurt or scared, assuring you that everything will be alright, dressing your wounds or trying to snap you out of your fright whether he’s doing it for you or for his own selfish reasons is up to interpretation.

- He has no filter. He just says what he pleases without any regard towards other peoples feelings, whether his words are directed at you or towards someone else. There’s always a bit of tension in the air as/after he speaks.

- He gets snappy when he’s frustrated or under pressure. He’ll raise his voice at you and argue wickedly, still continuing his rant even as you go to leave though he’ll angrily question you as to what you’re doing in the middle of it.

- He can definitely hold a grudge if you really make him upset so you’ll either have to force your way back into his life and apologize or wait until he just cant take it anymore and begins to miss you. Let it be known that Herbert never truly lets a person out of his grasp. Being close to him is like being in a spider web.

- He isn't above manipulation. In fact, he practically wrote the book on it. Its usually subtle when its with you, careful word choices and purposeful touches. He’ll apologize and say all the right things to get you to forgive him. Don’t worry, he is actually sorry and tries his best to not do what upset you again.

- He doesn't say I love you; Its not really in his vocabulary. He may have said it a few times in your relationship but not at all often. He shows you he cares more than he verbally expresses it.

- He has no intentions of letting you go anytime soon and you have no intentions of going. You might have a strange relationship but its your strange relationship and you love it.

#herbert west imagine #herbert west headcanons #herbert west headcanon #reanimator imagine #reanimator headcanons #reanimator headcanon #re-animator imagine #re-animator headcanons #re-animator headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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ayanna-wild · 4 years ago

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Because You're Beautiful

Word Count: 1264

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Plus size Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, possible trigger

A/N: Request from Wattpad, nearly all of my stories are made to fit pretty much anyone's body type and or ethnicity, as I try to keep the reader's description as vague as possible, however if you'd like to directly address a certain aspect, like this story, feel free to ask!

“Loving your body is about being comfortable in your body, and only you get to set the parameters of that. Only you get to decide what that looks like, and only you know where the finish line is. Never let anyone make you feel ashamed about what you decide, or don't decide, to put on your body.” — Brittany Gibbons

Summary: You hadn’t really wanted to go to Lux, to a crowded club, with so many people. But Lucifer had looked so hopeful when he asked you to come, and you never could say no to him. When the night quickly turns sour though, your loving devil is there to remind you just how much he truly loves you.

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You stared at yourself in the mirror, dawned in the nicest dress you owed. Well truthfully the dress you had bought just for this occasion. You shifted nervously as you begun to second guess yourself the longer you stared.

Was this dress the right color for you?

Was it the right style? The right length?

So many doubts began to cloud your mind. You were thicker than most girls and although you were happy with yourself, your insecurities still reared their ugly head from time to time. The abrupt knocking on your door silenced your runaway thoughts. You took one last dissatisfied look before moving to answer it. The familiar smile of the handsome man on the other side quieted your insecurities just a little and you smiled back, albeit rather stiffly.

"My darling you look stunning! Is that a new dress? I haven't seen it before." He smiled approvingly as his eyes roamed over your figure.

You shifted from one foot to the other under his intense gaze.

"I just bought it actually, I figured I should look nice for tonight."

Tonight being the first night you'd agreed to accompany Lucifer to such a crowded place. The first night you allowed him to proudly show you off as his girlfriend. You were normally more reserved in your relationship with Lucifer. You'd seldom agree to go anywhere too many people would see. You had told him it was simply because you were shy but in truth you felt almost ashamed. The women Lucifer used to date were stunning, perfectly sculpted, and much, much different from you.

So, despite your anxiety, your insecurities, your fears, you'd agreed to come out with him tonight. Agreed because he'd asked you so sweetly, agreed because he'd been so eager to show you off.

You, his beautiful girlfriend, as he put it.

And him, the gorgeous man, far out of your league.

"Well I think it’s beautiful on you, shall we?"

Lucifer held his arm out and you wrapped your arm around his. His smile was almost blinding, and he led you to his car, beaming in pride.

The ride to Lux was mostly quiet, at least from your end, Lucifer however had no problem chatting away. Even if it was more of a one-sided conversation. You caught every other word he said, mostly trying to psych yourself up for the evening ahead.

When the two of you had finally arrived you were a puddle of anxiety and stress. He must have sensed your internal dismay and gently placed a hand on your thigh, his smile encouraging and his eyes filled with worry.

"You'll be fine my dear, and if it gets to be too much, we can always sneak out." He winked.

You let out a breathy laugh, a bit more at ease and you nodded. Lucifer leaned over, kissing your forehead.

"My beautiful love." He murmured.

The night although a bit stressful was going wonderfully, you were actually having fun. Lucifer was showing you off to anyone he could, a proud and somewhat smug look on his face the whole time. His introductions often started with 'my beautiful' or 'my lovely' and once even 'my goddess', you'd elbowed him for that one. Lucifer's affection for you made you feel like you were on cloud nine and your worries melted away.

Until he left you alone to refill your drinks.

You'd been standing at a table, glancing around at all the people when a woman approached you. She had silky black hair, and porcelain skin and her dress clung to her slim figure in the most flattering way. Her expression held no kindness and you frowned a little.

"You're Lucifer's girlfriend?"

It was a seemingly innocent question but the way she'd said it, with such distaste and disbelief, made it clear what she really thought.

"Yes..."

You really wished your voice hadn't come out so quiet.

"Why?"

She looked you up and down, a disapproving frown on her face.

"Look at you."

Her words stung and you visibly flinched as if she'd slapped you.

"He's just..."

"Is this a sort of pity date? Is he doing you a favor?"

Her questions made you feel small, so insignificant.

"I'm sorry but who are you?"

You tried to sound indifferent but your voice faded off.

"Lucifer and I used to hook up now and then, he broke off our arrangement whenever he started dating though. I just didn't know it was for someone like you. You're not nearly as skinny as the girl's he usually goes for."

She curled her lip in disgust and you cast your eyes downward, suddenly ashamed and fighting back tears.

"You don't belong with someone like him. Look at you! You'll only weigh him down." She smiled cruelly pushing past you.

You stumbled back when she intentionally bumped her shoulder into yours. A hand on your back steadied you and you watched as the woman took a step back. Her vicious smile gone.

"Lucifer... I-I didn't see you there..." She said.

You looked up at your boyfriend, whose expression was dark and furious. His hand moved from your back to your waist, and he pulled you close to his side.

"Clearly."

The tone of his voice sent chills down even your spine and you weren’t the one on the receiving end of his anger.

"I was just-"

"I heard what you were doing Molly. Now leave my club, you're no longer welcomed here." Lucifer snapped.

The woman, Molly, gaped at him in disbelief, and she stuttered out a protest.

"You're kicking me out! Over her!? How could you choose someone like that over me!"

Lucifer gave her a vindictive smile, and he held you closer.

"Because her beauty isn't skin deep, and quite frankly my dear, you're as shallow as a puddle, I prefer someone with a little more depth, which you lack entirely. You may have your looks, but you're a truly hideous human being."

Lucifer waved the bouncer over and led you away as you listened to Molly screech as she was escorted out.

Lucifer had taken you up to the penthouse, encouraged you to take off your heels and had gotten you a slightly stronger drink than you'd had before.

"I'm sorry I left you alone for so long darling, are you alright?"

You forced a smile, waving a hand dismissively.

"I'm alright Luc, it's nothing I didn't already know."

He frowned at your words, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"I'm sorry?" He questioned.

You averted your gaze from his.

"She wasn't wrong, sure her words hurt, but she had a point."

Lucifer felt his heart ache at your words.

"What did she say Y/N?"

You stilled refused to look at him, instead choosing to pick at the fabric of your dress.

"That you were out of my league, I would only weigh you down, that I'm... I'm well I'm thicker than most girls. Just reminding me of things I already knew." You mumbled.

Lucifer was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t bare to look at him. But in the next second your drink was plucked from your hands and you were being pulled into a crushing embrace.

"Oh love, don't you know I think you're perfect how you are? You're a kind and wonderful person. You light up a room just by walking in, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

You blinked back tears, holding him tightly as he kissed the top of your head.

"Darling I wouldn't change a thing about you." Lucifer muttered.

"Even if I'm heavy?"

He chuckled pulling away to cup your face in his hands.

"Especially that, besides there's just more for me to love, and I do love you, very much."

................................................................................

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lunewell · 4 years ago

Text

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Chapter 2

Can also be read on ao3 by clicking here

First part is here (:

Third part is here

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery

Chapter 2:

At 03:45 in the morning, under a night sky covered in a thick blanket of storm clouds, Zarifa was woken, not by any natural phenomena, or by her antique alarm clock, but by the sound of her phone screeching out what was effectively deafening trumpets. Though this had never happened before, Zarifa knew instantly what it was, and threw off her warm, cotton duvet immediately.

Grant, who frankly was the only one who had anything even close to technology related competence, had wired up an alarm system in the shop not too long ago, and connected it to Zarifa’s phone. He had also, of course, been the one to design the hideous sound. As she gripped her phone with a speed that almost made it go smashing to the ground, she turned it on to see that the alarm of Thorn’s Antiques had, in fact, just gone off.

She rubbed her temples, shivering slightly. Neither the room nor the outside world were particularly warm, with a chilly wind seeping on through the wall and around the room. Her bed was a haven of heat, and a place that could soothe the ever-growing, tired ache in her bones, and her entire body protested when she turned on her heels and began walking towards the closet, shuddering.

Zarifa threw on clothes at an impressive haste; a warm turtleneck and a pair of jeans that were just the slightest bit too small, then snatched her phone and purse, and put on her necklace, before rushing out the door.

She wasn’t all that worried about the robbery, not really. While they were an antique shop, they didn’t have anything really valuable, at least not that she was aware of.

Besides, if anything of value truly had been stolen, there was pretty much only one culprit, and lucky for them, Zarifa knew exactly where to go should that be the case.

No, her haste came not from a place of fear of the robber, or worry over the supply, but from Valour’s reaction. Valour, though usually apathetic, had an overprotectiveness of the shop, and any damage to it, might lead to the new rising of a mass murderer. The butterfly over her turtleneck saw one last glimpse of the light, before it was covered in a thick, black coat, and slipped outside into the shadowy night.

The breeze was particularly strong, fiery trees not so much swaying in the wind as almost being knocked down by it. Zarifa pulled her coat tighter, shivering as a cracking whip of gust slammed her face. The stars above, usually visible in the dimly lit dirt paths, were shielded behind towering, puffed-up storm clouds, almost menacing in their own way.

She walked onto the pavement, passing her small and worn car parked outside the small cottage. She debated on taking it, before deciding it really wasn’t worth it. Lunewell was so small anyway, and the shop hidden in the far corner was but a ten-minute walk. Though driving should technically have been faster, navigating her way around the roads and towards Lune Lake, where the shop lay, would take just as long as walking there. Even after living there for five years, Zarifa still found the roads and paths an absolute maze, like the village was purposefully trying to trap its inhabitants.

As she rounded a corner, and headed towards what had become a very small street of other local shops and one bar, a wave of newly baked pastries broke through the ozone-scented air, sending yet another hard hit of a gust that pushed her back ever so slightly. She didn’t mind the wind though, as her tight expression morphed into a delighted smile and her body became infinitely more aware of how long it has been since she’d eaten.

Zarifa relished in the smell for just a little longer, though she kept her pace up, before she froze in place at the edge of a lamppost light. Mr. and Mrs. Carr, both bundled up in striped, hand-knit scarves, were walking towards the bakery hand in hand, clearly preparing to open for the day. Zarifa stood almost inhumanly still in place, as though the Carrs were hunting predators and she was their prey, her breathing having grown shallower and tighter.

Taking a step back further into the shadows, she hoped the light was poor enough and their eyes old enough that she would slip under their senses. Or, at least, that was the plan, until her feet knocked against an empty can on the ground, sending a rattling sound that resonated through the street.

Their heads snapped up, landing first on the can that had rolled into the light, and then on Zarifa herself, who was still holding her breath, even her heartbeat muted. Mrs. Carr, who had never particularly liked Zarifa for whatever reason, gave a wave and a slightly tight smile as her greyed hair blew haphazardly around her head.

Her husband turned to see what she was looking at, lighting up when he saw Zarifa, who had edged herself into the event horizon of visibility. “Zarifa!” he greeted enthusiastically, but quietly, “Hello dear. What are you doing out here at this hour?”

Zarifa rubbed the back of her neck, shuffling further forward. “Good morning Mrs. Carr, Mr. Carr-”

“As I’ve said before, just Harold’s fine love.”

“Apologies,” Zarifa said, hands moving from her neck to the gold that hung around it. “I’m not in the best mindset right now,” Mr. Carr sounded an ‘Oh?’, as Mrs. Carr headed inside slightly huffy, “you see, the alarm for Thorn’s Antiques just went off.”

Mr. Carr’s eyebrows shot up in concern, wrinkles bunched on his ever-balding forehead. “That’s dreadful,” he exclaimed, “not the kind of thing you’d expect to happen ‘round here. You better be off, Lilly and I’ll drop by with some of the baked goods later in the day.”

“Oh, that’s very generous but you don’t have to,” Zarifa reassured in a slight panicky tone, “no point in dragging you two into this mess.”

“Nonsense,” he said, “everyone needs some baked goods in situations like this. Besides, I’m sure that young lad of yours with the glasses - Graham? Brant? - would be very appreciative.”

“If you’re positively sure it isn’t an inconvenience, that would be lovely,” Zarifa said, finishing it off with a warm if anxious smile. Any lingering silence was broken by the sound of Mrs. Carr calling for her husband and co-worker in a way fit for a dictator. Mr. Carr turned towards the door

“Yes, I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted, back, a stark contrast to the gentle lull of his tone before. “I believe my wife needs me. We’ll stop by later. Good luck!”

Zarifa took off like a jetfighter, sprinting away with a wave and footsteps that bounced into the streets. At her speed, it wasn’t long before she was no longer landing on cobbled streets but on overgrown dirt paths covered in damp leaves. The shop, a small stoney thing with dirty windows that practically looked abandoned, came into view, and her eyes moved to the door, which was in fact left just the slightest bit open.

Sliding inside, she closed the door behind her, though the shop remained equally cold. It looked almost eerie at this time, the furniture remnant of old times, empty and abandoned, a few vases smashed on the floor from where someone had been in a rush, and a stillness so quiet that it was deafening to her ears.

Picking up a blue floral patterned shard, she continued onwards, keeping her footsteps as light as a ghost. Well, as light as a ghost that could not sneak past a deaf person, but she digressed. Pushing open the door to the back, wincing as the door hinges made a shrieking creek, reminiscent of a whining child, she made her way in.

The employees’ lounge looked, as she had expected, fine. Everything was exactly as they had left it, slightly disjointed, except for Bruin’s desk that had been organised meticulously. She began heading for the downstairs, to see if any of the inventory had been stolen, when she heard a muffled thud from upstairs, releasing the pressured silence in her ear and exchanging it with dread.

Thud, thud, thud , multiple slamming sounds, equally light, equally muffled, radiated from upstairs. She could track the being’s every movement from the sound alone, see the continuous patterns of thuds make their way through the upstairs rooms. Her eyes trailed them vigorously, pupils jumpy, as she tightened the grip on the shard. The fact that it dug into her hand, almost piercing through her thin bicoloured skin, didn’t register.

The shop yet again went quiet, though any illusion of silence was broken by Zarifa’s hammering heart. She glanced around the room, gaze going to the cellar where she could take her hiding, to the second exit, and back up to Valour’s personal floor. She looked up, waiting for any more signs of life, before snailing sneakily up the stairs with the shard held out in front of her.

The steps, normal stairs instead of the never ending spiral leading to the basement, stayed as silent as herself throughout the ascent, as though they themselves were afraid of the intruder above. Zarifa tipped-toed up them, the yellow stained walls that the stairs were encased in almost suffocatingly tight, and ever closing in.

At the top of the carpeted steps sat a black door crested in a slightly lighter shade, with a pair of Bobby pins stuck in the lock. It was the only entrance Zarifa had never taken in the shop, looming above her and guarding a floor that even so much as seeing would lead to great punishment.

It was too dark to peek into the room, and there was no sound but her own swallowing and the wind that had picked up outside. She took another step up, and reached for the handle as though it was shatterable glass. With a prayer directed more towards the cosmic force of luck rather than anything specific, she gave one push of the door.

Luck, it seemed, was on her side, as the hinges opened without the slightest squeak. She took the final stairs up, giving one last glance to where she came from, and stepped inside what was effectively Valour’s house.

Even through the fog of darkness, she could see the layer of dust, and the sheer amount of things thrown astray on the floor. Outlines of books with unreadable titles spilling over the carpet, sheets of aged papers crumbled into what she assumed had once been a paper bin, and antique knick-knacks placed in tall piles, disfigured by the low lighting.

At first glance, it seemed disorganised, but as her eyes adjusted more to the lightless room, it became clear that similar items were bundled together, and that there was some kind of system. She just hadn’t quite figured out what that system was.

Looking away from the silhouettes of mess that seemed ever-shifting, she turned her eyes downward, looking at where a path had been cleared. Whether it had always been there, or whether the dear intruder had made it, she was unsure about. She walked across it like a minefield, eyes trained on the ground and not looking at the piles which were getting higher as she went along and spilling further towards her.

She stopped at a hallway, leading in two different directions, which was deserted compared to the room she had just arrived in, only containing a painting, a few near empty shelves, and a drawer. Though equally riddled with swirling, sand-like dust, it felt cleaner, and had a little bit of light poking through a curtained roof window. It shone on the portrait hanging large and proud above the wooden desk, enough so that she could see the illuminated face of a younger Valour with colour still in her hair and a rather androgynous person she couldn’t quite recognise. They invoked the same familiar feeling she had felt yesterday, albei more distant.

She took a step closer, staring intently. The person, a sickly pale figure with light brown hair and odd, pink, heart shaped sunglasses, was almost entrancing, to the point she had barely realised just how close her hand was to the canvas.

The trance was broken not by the touch of the oil canvas, but by a sound that Zarifa, when asked at a later point, could only have described as bounding . It was the sound of a constrictor wrapping around its prey, of tight ropes encircling a wrist, of becoming trapped and helpless.

A flash of light blue light, ever so faint and ever so quick that one couldn’t be scolded for mistaking it with a hallucination, appeared in the corner of her eye. Her head snapped towards one of the doors, hair on her arms rising, as she made her ways towards the source.

From the outside door, she could hear whatever was making that sound wrap further, deeper, and for a second, her mind cleared. She considered walking out; walking safely home, telling Valour that she couldn’t find anything stolen, and not getting involved. Letting this, whatever this was, live its life or death peacefully.

After all, was that not why she had come to find herself here in the shop in the first place? Was that not why Grant, Bruin, or even to an extent Valour herself had found themselves in this antique shop? To escape a past of unexplainable events, whilst simultaneously saving others from having the same brush with the eldritch, the unexplainable? To, for even just a split second, live in the illusion of normalcy, the lie that nothing had ever been wrong?

Zarifa turned on her heels, sneaking past the portrait of Valour and Heart-Glasses, which almost seemed to be judging her choice. Valour wouldn’t have turned away, which perhaps explained the scars and bruises. She couldn’t, however, bring herself to care, as her ever growing frantic footsteps made their way down the hall.

Now, what must be understood for the following sequence of events to make sense, is that Zarifa, deep down, was one thing; caring. She sees her fellow employees as great friends, always up to help or let them take breaks, she handles her books with delicate strokes and gloves hands, and she is always up to help.

Whether Zarifa’s caring nature always outshined her cowardice and self preservation is debatable, and a subject she preferred not to dwell on. However, in the word always , lies a hidden, implied one; sometimes.

Like when Zarifa, halfway down the hallway, heard a cry and groan of pain that was so distinctly Lottie , that she would have recognised it even if her ears got chopped off. As though someone had a pressed a button, she turned right back around, sprinted with loud thuds, and pushed the door with a speed that almost broke a whole in the wall. She stood panting in the doorway, all fear evaporated into a feeling that was not quite protectiveness, not quite caring, not quite pity, and not quite anger, before the muddled emotion transformed back into fear as her eyes landed on the strawberry blonde.

Lottie sat on the floor, legs dug into by long vines dressed in a barrier of thorns, arms tightly pressed against her body in a twisted bend that no human should have been able to achieve, and a streaming, jet black smoke arising from the leaf engraved ornate box in front of her and travelling right into her deep green eyes. Zarifa moved towards her and the box without even thinking, making her jerk, digging the thorns even deeper into her skin. “Don’t… to-touch a thing,” Lottie commanded, voice unbelievably hoarse, as though she had been shouting for hours, and Scottish accent more intense.

“I can’t sit by and watch… whatever’s happening!” Zarifa shouted frantically, panic stirring in her. She crouched down to the floor, even as Lottie made a sound of protest. “How can I stop this?”

“Y-you can get the fuck out,” Lottie managed to gasp out meeting her eyes. Her brows were stern, but her expressive emerald eyes were scrunched and her face was in a grimace that drew at Zarifa’s heart strings like a wound bow. All the while, the black smoke from the box-

The box. Of course. If she just closed it, Lottie would, theoretically, be fine. She began reaching for the moonlight-reflecting gold leaf, one of the only items visible in the otherwise almost pitch black room. She stopped as she heard her name called desperately from beside her, followed by a string of curses.

“Don’t touch it!” Lottie pleaded with a tone laced in anger, voice teetering on the edge of death, “Just get out of here, butterfly!” And oh, if her heart didn’t skip at that slip-up, “Don’t want to…” she gasped again, not quite managing to bite down another whimper, “d-drag you into this shit again.”

Zarifa looked at Lottie, her pained glare, the arms that looked like they had been put on backwards, and the pierced legs. She took a breath; “I’m sorry,” she said, and before Lottie could say so much as a word, she snapped the lid shut with a snap that hit like an atom bomb.

As soon as the bomb landed, everything went quiet. Zarifa moved quickly, as Lottie fell limp into her chest like a stuffless ragdoll, arms clicking back into the place with an audible sound, and eyes fluttering open to give one last angered, intense stare before shutting. The smoke, escaping Lottie’s eyes in a violent manner, balled itself up into the center of the room, the thorns vanishing and joining it to create a rotating, black and dark green, spiral-patterned sphere.

Keeping a close eye on the orb, she scrambled further backwards, pulling Lottie along with her. Her mind raced as she scanned the thing, trying desperately to decipher what it was, what it could possibly be. Though she wanted to leave the room, to drag Lottie and herself outside and never enter again, her eyes were entranced in the beautiful, indescribable spiral. It was, Zarifa thought grimly, a bit like the train incident all over again. Or the summer camp, for that matter, but she preferred to keep a lock on those memories.

The orb continued spiralling, room still quiet except for Zarifa’s heavy breathing, and the wind outside. It was then that she saw something in the spirals, something beyond the mist of black. She squinted, though in the light and with the colour it was hard to see much of anything except the swirling pattern. She began leaning in ever closer, though recoiled almost instantly as soon as the orb came to life.

A hand, pink and fleshy and clearly human, pushed against the pattern, stretching the orb to translucency like a tight latex glove. It pushed against the swirls, followed by another, then three hands, then 10 hands, and then an uncountable number. Everywhere you looked where skin covered fingers, all trying to break the barrier that had slowly stopped swirling.

Though they pushed and pushed, hands clawing with the ferocity of a starving lion, pounding with all the force of a hurricane, the barrier refused to move, just stretching to expose the arms further up. It had gotten to the point where Zarifa could clearly see knobbly elbows bending robotically, aimlessly through the cover. She regarded the arms from where she sat, eyes trailing their every movement, before she turned over, head still on them, and took a single, crawling movement towards the door.

All the hands stopped pushing, falling limp into the orb as though their strings had been cut. They were dragged back jerkily into the core, pulled out of sight as quickly as they had appeared. Zarifa held her breath watching the orb move towards her and out of the moonlight, the colours fading to nothing but a monochrome silhouette, and the shape morphing into something reminiscent of a bald human, albeit with arms just the slightest bit too long. She could not see its face, or any details on its body, even as it took an unsteady tumble towards her.

When Zarifa was twenty-one, and visiting Lunewell for the first time since the train incident, a seventeen year old girl, younger than herself, but already the owner of a shop, named Valour Thorn had taught her a very important lesson; When faced with the unexplainable, always close your eyes. At that time, Zarifa had yet to see what that would do. After all, simply ignoring danger when it was so close seemed like a sure fire way to get yourself killed, but a method of saviour.

Now, however, faced with an ever-approaching, vaguely human-shaped blob, staggering towards her like a drunken man with a concussion, she realised that situations like this could only have two outcomes, and closed her eyes. She kept her breath and body stiff, even if she knew she had already been spotted by the sound of bagged, wet meat slapping against the ground. The sound stopped completely mere inches in front of her, and everything went quiet, on what could very well have been the last moment of her life.

A breath, muffled as though it was coming through fabric, though no less warm and moist than what would have expected, blew against her cheek. It sounded strained, as though it’s lungs were thick as needles, but the breathing was rhythmic and distinctly alive. The breath inched closer, warming by the second as she squeezed her deep brown eyes tighter, mind caught in a loop of prayers to all the gods she could think off.

Lottie, who had previously been nestled comfortably against Zarifa’s jacket, let out a slightly pained groan. Her heart stopped, as she felt the creature's breath pan over her face, and towards where the pigtailed girl rested. In a flurry of movements that made Zarifa flinch violently against the wall, she felt the weight of Lotie lifted off her in one sharp movement. A dazed whimper once again admitted it from her, but it sounded distant compared to the one that had been right against Zarifa’s ear.

She desperately wished to open her eyes, to see what was happening, to make even a singular heroic movement to save Lottie, but she stayed in her prey position; paralysed and blind. It was a grim but realistic reminder that she had and would never be a saviour, nor a survivor, just lucky. Regardless of prior experiences, she was no more competent or threatening than a shot deer.

The squishy sound returned, just as the warmth where the creature had poised left her neck. There was a distinct dragging sound on the floor, a sharp leather and zippers scrapping on wood, as the wet splotches rounded around her. She still didn’t dare open her eyes, until the footsteps and dragging vanished.

As the house and flat quiet, her eyes opened slowly, the lids still recovering from the glued fear. She glanced down to her hands, and realised that somewhere along the way, they had reached up to grip the necklace, which she squeezed as she took a shuddering, shallow breath. She reminded herself that both she and Lottie would be okay, that they’d both been through far worse, but the comfort only resonated on a surface level.

Looking around the dark room, she noticed the outline of a light switch right by the door, which stood more ajar than she had previously thought. With a final, semi-deep breath, she flicked it on. The room burst harshly into a bright yellow lamp, her eyes burning at the harsh contrast. She blinked rapidly, trying to blink away the tears that at first came from brightness, but as her vision cleared, came from a true realisation of what had just happened.

In the light, it became clear that this tiny room was a study. There was a dust laden desk with old, leather-bound journals, a desk light with a shattered bulb, and a computer just slightly more modern than the one downstairs, a corkboard with images connected by different coloured strings that looked like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream, and lots of shelves populated with antiques and books. However, Zarifa was not so much focusing on the small glimpse into Valour’s elusive personal life, as the floor where the encounter happened.

Splattered across the planks were puddles of a black, tar-like liquid, intertwined with small specks of blood. The ornate box itself had at some point been knocked over, tilted on its side, spreading a few small, thin sheets of ancient looking paper out. Zarifa gently made her way over, stepping past the puddles with a scrunched up nose, before reaching the papers. She didn’t pick it up, nor touch it, instead tilting her head to read what the dull, brown ink said.

To whom it may concern…

In this letter lies the seal, which I fear must not be opened till The Dawn. If the time is not right, you must close this box, and ignore this. Do not read onwards, or you will bring upon yourself the cruelest of fates.

In a worst case scenario, if the seal has been unsealed before The Dawn, if doors ideally locked stand open, you must be prepared to make a key.

A key is forged by fragments of Touched sanity eating a sight of one that Sees, dipped in water oh-so divine. Once the key has begun, the fragments must sew themselves between the fabric, letting all webbed light shine on them. As they are blessed by the minute, and after the final step of-

Zarifa’s eyes widened, turning the page frantically looking for the continuation of where the text had been ripped off. She glanced around the room, looked once again inside the box, only to find it an empty chasm. With a shaky breath, she wiped away her tears, determaimly, and pulled up her phone.

Zarifa furrowed her brows as the time, reading precisely 06:00, appeared onto the screen. Had it really been two hours already? Nevertheless, she decided to ignore it for now, opening up her contacts, and quickly clicking the one person who she knew would already be up at such an early hour.

“Hey Grant? I need you and Bruin to come in as soon as possible. We have a slight… situation on our hands.”

#original writing #bookblr #book excerpt #writeblr #horror books #The Lunewell Saga - Natura

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rhysismydaddy · 5 years ago

Text

Naughty Neighbors pt. 3 (Elriel)

I think I might’ve actually died writing the first part of this not going to lie. Also don’t come for me changing the verb tense I’m well aware lol

Coming next week...

“I’m not taking you to bed while you belong to another man, Elain.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe not your body,” he agrees, placing a wide hand on her chest, right above her heart. “But I want this to be mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

______________________________________________________________

~Elain~

It’s Saturday night, the first day of what’s shaping up to be a truly unremarkable weekend for Elain. Feyre’s art show’s tomorrow, but that’s the most exciting thing she has planned.

She can’t remember the last time she’d been excited about something even was, actually.

Pushing that uncomfortable thought away, she settles further in the bath and sighs. Desperate for entertainment, she tries to focus on the pages of the book in front of her, but her brain won’t cooperate.

After another ten minutes, she resigns herself to an early night and gets out of the tub, slipping into one of her robes.

It’s only eleven, but she gets in bed, forgotten book on her night table. Closing her eyes proves she is actually a little tired, because she starts to relax and drift off to sleep.

But then she hears it.

A low groan sounds through the wall between her apartment and her neighbor’s, and her eyes go wide. She hears two people talk, then a feminine laugh. Which turns into a loud moan a second later.

Oh. My. Gods.

There’s a thud, then sexy, masculine laughter meets her ears.

Some shuffling sounds make Elain bury her head under her pillow,, the blush on her cheeks hot enough to melt the sheets away. This is so horrible.

But no amount of pillows could stop her from hearing what happens next.

The feminine moaning gets louder, then is joined by a loud banging directly on her wall. Was that his... headboard?

Good heavens above, he’s really going for it over there.

There’s a pause, then the banging gets even more intense. The woman’s moaning is closer now, and she realizes with a start what’s happening. They’d moved against the wall. Her wall.

Oh, he's dead.

She’ll kill him herself if she had to for subjecting her to this.

Except that’s not exactly what she feels like doing as she hears the asshole practically growl, “Fuck, baby.”

~Azriel~

Mor slaps my chest, giving me a strange look. “Fuck, baby?” she whispers incredulously. “That’s what you say when you get laid?.”

I just roll my eyes and mutter, “Shut up.”

“That’s the most embarrassing, male thing you could ever say. But keep going. The point is to prove you have better stamina, and we’ve only been at this for ten minutes.”

Barely repressing laughter, I wrap her jean-clad legs tighter around my waist and keep moving against her.

When she lets out another ridiculously loud moan, I say quietly, “This is so fucking stupid.”

“I agree, but I’m not the one whose whipped.”

In case it isn’t obvious, I really, really regret telling her about Elain.

As soon as she’d heard about Lucien “Shit in the Sack” Vanserra, Mor had been determined to help.

She’s my absolute best friend, the one who knows every sordid detail about my life, and tonight she’s made it her mission in life to help make Elain jealous.

She’s also a lesbian.

“So this is doing nothing for you?” I ask with a frown. I mean, if we were naked, this would be some of my best work.

She gives me a flat look, even as I continue fake-fucking her against the wall. “Not unless you change your name to Azriella and grow a huge pair of-”

“Okay, I get it. Laugh like I said something funny.”

Rolling her eyes, she does, and I force myself to huff a chuckle, too.

Gods, she’s right. I’m whipped. And definitely deranged. For a chick who isn’t even sleeping with me.

If my friends knew, they’d never shut up about it. Mor was the only one I’d told, and that was because she knows how it feels to have feelings for someone and not be able to do anything about it.

Plus, I’d been her fake boyfriend for years in high school before she came out to her parents, so she owes me.

Mor checks her watch and raises her eyebrows. “It’s been fifteen minutes. How long do you usually last?”

It’s my turn to glare. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“I’m just saying, I have a date in an hour.”

She groans, so I wait until that stops and ask, “With who?”

“That really pretty barista I told you about, so I don’t want to be late. Five more minutes seems good.” I nod, because it’s nice she’s doing this in the first place. “Make em count, champ.”

I think I’m going to kill her one day.

But I do.

And by the end, we’re both breathing hard and have made enough noise to wake the whole building. After a very obnoxious climax, I let Mor down. “You realize if she does ever have sex with you you’re going to have to-”

“It won’t be a problem,” I assure her, one-hundred percent confident in that fact.

She gives me a disbelieving look but just shakes her head and ruffles her hair. Once at the door, she turns and whispers, “She’s going to look out the peep hole, so I’m going to kiss the shit out of you.”

With that, my best friend swings the door open, turns around, and puts on an expression I’ve never seen before. It’s desire and satisfaction and something else entirely I don’t want to read in to. It’s disgusting.

But I act like the “champ” I am and don’t react, even as she pulls my face down to hers and kisses me.

Her nails rake down my bare back, and even though this does absolutely nothing for me, I wrap my arms around her and lift her clear off her feet to bring her closer.

Don’t get me wrong, Mor’s beautiful and all, but she’s my best friend, and this is giving me flashbacks to homecoming and prom and every other time we had to put on an act.

How long till this is over, exactly?

~Elain~

Watching him kiss that woman... Elain can admit it does strange things to her. Like makes her want to storm out and yank them apart, then scream.

She somehow refraines.

He finally lets her down, and the rage and frustration builds to an insurmountable level because she’s freaking gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous where Elain was tempted to go kiss her herself.

How annoying.

Turning on her heel, she stomps back over to her bed and flops down.

She’s hot and cold and her core is so tight it's almost painful.

Never, not once in her entire life, had she thought she’d be turned on hearing something like that.

But picturing him... doing that, and so close to her own bed... yeah. She’d almost come herself, and she was in a completely different room.

Gods, she’s pathetic.

And she can absolutely never see him again.

That’s beyond obvious.

Terrible liar she is, she knows it would be all over her face. What would she even say? Oh, hey neighbor. Heard you really give that woman a good time last night. So good, in fact, you almost got both of us off. High-five!

Nope. She’d rather move across town before running in to him again.

Even though the thought makes her strangely sad.

She falls asleep soon after, mind going back over every tiny detail she’d heard tonight until she’s surprised she can sleep at all.

~Azriel~

It’s Sunday morning, meaning I don’t have to work. Meaning I don’t have an excuse to see Elain.

But fuck do I want to.

I can’t hardly wait for the blush I know will pop up on her cheeks. I probably won’t have to even speak for it to happen. There’s no way she didn’t hear the amazing fake sex I had last night. She probably won’t even be able to look me in the eyes.

So I wait until I hear her get up and start shuffling around in her apartment.

Then, like the creep I am, I sit on the couch and wait for her door to open so I can go out and tease her until she slaps me or something.

But it doesn’t. I sit there until it’s four in the afternoon, and that’s when it dawns.

She told me herself she checks her garden on Sundays--a fact she knows I know--so the only reason she wouldn’t go...

She’s trying to avoid me.

A laugh bursts out of me.

Oh, Elain. Baby girl, that just won’t do.

I grab my laptop and look up the MOMA exhibits for this weekend, a probably-evil smile already blooming on my face.

~Elain~

Should I go out the window?

No, I live on the third floor.

But...

After looking at the drop down, she decides that’s definitely not happening. She’ll have to go the normal way. Which means she’ll have to walk by the door next to hers. Which belongs to him.

Gods, she was sweating already.

Which isn’t good, since the silk of her dress will definitely show it. Forcing herself to calm down, she grabs her clutch and slowly, quietly, opens the door.

Empty.

Before that can change, she hurtles down the hallway and stairs, breathing a sigh of relief when she steps outside.

It turns into a strangled gasp as she looks up from the cement.

Her neighbor’s standing in front of her, looking dark and alluring and inexplicably handsome in the twilight sky.

But that’s not why her breath goes a little shallow.

The dark jeans, boots, and t-shirts he’s worn every time she’s seen him have now been replaced with a black suit, crisply cut to his tall frame.

He looks so handsome she can hardly remember she’s supposed to be avoiding him.

But then the why of that statement comes rushing back, and her cheeks go pink. He looks pleased at that, even as his darkening eyes roam over her frame.

Her dress is floor-length, but the spaghetti straps and low back make it revealing. That, and the fact that the silk fabric clings to every dip and curve of her figure.

His eyes notice it all, all the way down to her heel-clad feet and back up to her softly curled hair.

“Elain.”

It’s just one word, and it’s one she knows well, but it’s somehow everything.

Now more than ever, she wished she knew his name. It usually seems like a little game, but now it feels like a whole in her chest. She wants to know him.

Wants to know how to say his name in a way that makes him feel like she feels right now.

“You look beautiful,” he comments, sliding his hands in the pockets of that damn suit.

“Thank you. You look nice, too.” Nice? More like devastating. He just shrugs. “Hot date?”

A small smile graces his full lips. “No, that was last night.”

“I’m aware,” she bites out, face starting to heat. Her body’s reliving last night, and she has to force herself not to press her legs together.

“Just wanted you to know how it’s supposed to be done.”

“How considerate.”

He steps close, so close they’re sharing air. “Did it bother you, listening to me with another woman?”

She sure as hell can’t tell him the truth, so she says breathlessly, “Not unless you count the nausea.”

Damn him for turning her into a liar. And damn him for smelling so good.

There’s an arm around her waist, a hand on her hip. He’s so close now that his lips brush her ear as he whispers, “Did it turn you on?”

A whimper escapes her lips, so she bites one to keep herself quiet as she shakes her head no.

“Elain, you are such a little liar,” he scolds, pulling away to smirk at her. “You’re blushing.” A finger runs down her cheek. She bats it away.

“We should get going,” he observes, checking his watch.

That gets her attention. “What?”

His lips twitch as he says, “The MOMA exhibit is tonight, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“Well, we should go then.”

Oh, gods above. He’s planning on attending? With her?

This is a terrible idea. But one look at his devilish smile tells her there’s no changing his mind. So she sighs and says, “We’ll have to get a cab. It’s across the city.”

“I’ll just drive, then,” he says, throwing her completely off guard once again.

“Wait a second. You have a car?”

He looks amused as he takes her hand and pulls her down the street to where a dark, expensive looking SUV is parked. “I do.”

“Then why do you walk to work?”

Opening the passenger door, he turns to look her in the eyes again. “Well, you know what they say. Best way to start the day...” is a quick lay, she finishes in her mind, cheeks going pink. “-is to see a friend.”

Oh, he’s such an unbearable asshole.

She ignores the little smile he gives her and climbs in the car, and soon they’re off. For a minute it’s silent, but then she asks quietly, “Why are you coming tonight?”

“I wanted to see you. And I’ve never been to a museum. Figured I’d have the best guide this way.”

Reasonable enough, she supposes. Even if the way he looked at her earlier told her seeing a museum had nothing to do with art.

She doesn’t have enough time to contemplate it, though, because he pulls up in front of the MOMA and parks, then they’re heading inside. She’s happy to see there’s quite a few people here, something she knows her sister will appreciate, too.

Said sister rushes over immediately and smiles. “You made it!”

“Of course I did.” When she eyes the man next to her, she says awkwardly, “Um, Feyre, this is... my neighbor.”

She really has to find out his name.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, extending a hand. “It looks like a good turnout.”

It was the right thing to say apparently, because Feyre beams. “I know! Hopefully they’ll all sell. There’s a surprise in there for you, Elain.”

Oh, gods. That usually meant something bad. Like being the subject to her sister’s very comprehensive photography exhibit three years ago.

“Anyway, you guys look around and have fun. There’s champagne in the back. Thanks for coming!”

Elain hugs her sister tightly before she can disappear. “I’m proud of you. This is great.”

Feyre rolls her eyes as she pulls back, but they’re a little misty. “Oh, shut up or you’ll make me cry.”

Then she kisses Elain’s cheek and turns to talk to more people coming in.

“Champagne?”

Turning to the man next to her, she smiles and nods. That sounds like an excellent idea right about now. He disappears, so she ventures to the first room.

It’s all landscapes, beautiful paintings of mountains and the night sky and beautiful pictures of nature. She’s standing in front of one, smiling, when he comes back. “That’s your garden, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she says softly, staring at the piece in front of her with new eyes. The night they’d first met creeps into her mind, and she sees him in the painting, lounging on that cute little bench, cigarette dangling seductively from his lips.

“You look sad.” His voice is quiet and soft, and she turns to meet his gaze.

She has to look away, though, because he’s right. She is sad.

Thinking about that night makes her think about what could’ve happened. How different this last week could’ve been.

But she can’t tell him any of that, so she just turns to walk to the next room. The man next to her pauses, and she sees why as soon as her gaze goes to the wall.

Roses, carnations, lilies.

Tulips, orchids, peonies.

All her favorite flowers are on the wall, the paint blending together and creating the most beautiful collage she’s ever seen. They’re all over the wall--there has to be at least fifty paintings in here.

And in the middle of them all is the front of her shop.

It’s an almost perfect rendition to the door of The Archeron, with the glass walls and flowers almost bursting out.

The whole room’s been designed to look like the inside of her shop.

A tear escapes down her cheek as she looks at the art around her. Gratitude, love, and happiness almost erupt from her, and she notices something.

The man next to her notices it at the same time. “You feel something.”

“Yeah,” she replies happily. “I do.”

He smiles, and it’s not one of his usual little grins or smirks. It’s a full smile, showcasing all his perfect teeth. “So do I.”

The voice inside her head tells her he isn’t talking about the paintings.

And for a minute, Elain just stands there, flowers blurring in her peripheral as she stares at him.

“Please tell me your name,” she whispers.

He smiles again, taking a step towards her. And it’s just as he’s leaning down that he opens his mouth and-

“Elain!” Feyre bursts into the room with a wide grin. “What do you think?”

She practically jumps a mile in the air, but she recovers quickly and says honestly, “I love it. Thank you so much. It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Excuse me,” her neighbor says in a low voice, eyes on something in the distance as he heads to the front of the store.

Feyre watches him go, and as soon as he’s out of earshot says, “Okay, now that he’s gone, can you tell me what’s going on? Did you and Lucien break up?”

Elain notices her sister doesn’t exactly sound sad at that prospect. “No, why would you think that?”

“Because you came here with him, and he looks like a villanous-”

“Prince Charming? That’s what I said!”

They laugh, but then Feyre smiles knowingly and asks, “You know he’s in love with you, right?”

The words clear a path through her chest, even as the heart inside swells. She suddenly can’t breathe, can’t form a normal thought. That’s... impossible.

“What? How do you know?”

“Because he just went to buy that painting,” she says softly, motioning to The Archeron’s door.

She shakes her head. “No, he didn’t.”

Feyre smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yes, he did.”

“Oh, gods,” Elain whispers, pulse starting to race.

“You like him, too. It’s obvious to anyone who isn’t you.” Feyre flicks her nose playfully. “So stop thinking so hard. Just do what makes you happy.”

They say goodbye, and Elain turns to leave, finding him by the entrance. They walk outside in silence, then ride home in silence.

Something’s different between them, and it’s created a tangible tension in the air that makes it hard for her to breathe.

It’s only when they’re in the hallway outside their doors that she quietly asks, “Did you buy that painting?”

His body goes a bit tense, but he looks at her and answers, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told you.” His eyes are warm, like chocolate and caramel and smoke. And they’re looking at her like she’s everything to him as he says, “I felt something.”

“Liar,” she accuses, stealing his line.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, so they continue to stare at each other. She knows him so well already, but there’s one thing she’s still dying to figure out.

Just as she’s about to ask, he murmurs, “My name’s Azriel.”

She tells herself it’s the deal, the arrangement. She tells herself it doesn’t matter. She tells herself she’s just paying the price.

Elain tells herself all sorts of little lies as she steps forward, takes his face in her hands, and presses her lips to his.

______________________________________________________________

Wrote this in one setting sorry if it’s shit. Part 4

@wineywitch202 @astreia-oniria @keshavomit @zukos-simp @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @sjmships @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @poisonous00 @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @afifthofvodka @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #sjm #elain #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight

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amongtheshadowandlight · 4 years ago

Text

In Twilight: 7 of ?

Chapter Seven: Silence is Deafening

"Aw, but it was so nice here in the twilight, what's so great about the world of light anyway? See ya later."

Ombretta blinked blankly as her vision returned from the sheer white, her body tingling as She shook out her arms and legs, the familiar tingling coursing through her limbs. She examined the area around her. Gone were the yellow haze and the floating squares but seeing the familiar light of spring, the water turned a liquid gold before the ball of light, same to the one in Ordon, floated up from the water. With the ball of light, manifested the likeness of what Ombretta could only picture was a giant squirrel, it's tail circling around it.

"My name is Faron. I am one of the light spirits who dwell in Hyrule. By order of the gods, I protect this forest. Oh brave youth...in the land covered in twilight where people roamed as spirits, you were transformed into a blue-eyed beast."

Obviously talking about Link. Ombretta thought.

"That was a sign. That was a sign that the powers of the chosen one rests inside you and that they are now awakening. Look at your awaken form..."

Ombretta looked to her left, her heart leaping at the sight of the sight of blond hair instead of grey fur. But instead of the normal Ordonian clothes she was used to seeing and what Link was originally wearing in the first place, was replaced with green tunic. Her eyebrows furrowed together the more she looked at the green outfit. It was like...she had seen the same outfit before, but she couldn't place it. Looking at the outfit felt like a locked up memory, something her mind was desperately trying to remember, but couldn't.

"The green tunic that is your garb once belonged to the ancient hero chosen by the gods...his power is yours, the true power that slept inside you. Your name is Link. You are the hero chosen by the gods."

Ombretta took a step back, her jaw slacking open as Link stared up at the spirit, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

"Brave youths...A dark power rests in the temple deep within these woods. It is a forbidden power. Long, long ago. I and the other light spirits locked it away." Faron began to explain, his form beginning to grow fainter with each word. "Because of its nature, it is a power that should never be touched by those who dwell in the light. But this world weeps under a mantle of shadows and there is no other choice...you must match the power of the king of shadows. Proceed to the temple within the forest depths."

His form faded, leaving both Ombretta and Link silently standing still in the shallow waters, trying to process all the information given. Link was the first one to make a move, lifting his hand to look at the leather glove and guard he now donned.

"Well...huh!" Ombretta finally got out, swallowing the building up saliva. "That's truly somethin'..." She looked at Link once more. "That stitchin' is immaculate..."

"Of course you would say somethin' like that."

"If you were raised by my mother, you'll be thinkin' the same thing."

"Well well well...!" Midna sneered as she popped out of Link's shadow. "You're the chosen hero and all that, huh? So that's why you turned into that beast! What a shame...I mean, maybe you'd rather just wander as a spirit like the rest of them? Totally unaware of what's going on for all time, right?"

"Doesn't answer my question as to why I didn't change into a spirit." Ombretta shot back, crossing her arms. "I have no ideas, my head feels so jumbled right now..."

"Well, what do you want to do? Do you want to head to that temple?" Midna asked, seeming like she was ignoring Ombretta's comment. "How convenient! I was about to head there myself!" she sighed. "Look, you want to help your friends, right? And get the answers you want? The way I see it, it's all in that temple, just waiting..."

Ombretta glanced at Link, who just gave a slight shrug in return.

"Well, good luck you two." Midna giggled before diving back into Link's shadow.

"Well, what's the plan here? Go to the temple?"

"I guess there isn't much choice, is there?"

Ombretta shook her head, handing Link the scabbard and shield off her back. "No, not really."

"Well, I better go back to town to stock up, I have a feeling it won't be easy."

"Oh! Now that you can produce words. How is everything?" Ombretta asked as they began walking back to Ordon, but frowned when she was met with silence. "Link?" she jumped slightly ahead of him, turning around so she was walking backwards. "Link, what happened?"

"We weren't the only ones taken..."

"Link...?"

"All the kids were taken. Beth, Malo, Talo, Lennel..."

It felt like the world stopped. Everything zoned in on her as her breathing picked up, her heart beginning to race as she turned around on her heel, taking off in a sprint. She could barely hear the call of her name behind her as she ran through the woods, her vision becoming a tunnel as she only focused on the pathway in front of her. Her lungs screamed at her to slow down, her legs begging but she only pushed herself forward, only slowing down as she ran through the clearing.

She skidded to a stop once she passed through the gate. The air fell so still, even being the village for one minute, the quiet was deafening, the normal ruckus of animals seemed to have disappeared along with the usual bustling of the adults.

It was like the very life of the village was gone.

Ombretta let out a shuddered breath, flinching slightly at the gloved hand landing on her shoulder.

"I'm gonna go check on Rusl and Uli, you go home. I'll come see you before I leave." Link said before walking away from her.

She felt like her body was moving on it's own as she walked towards her house, dread building in her chest as she got to the door. "Hello...?" She called out as she walked through the front door. "Anyone here-oof!!" All the air escaped her lungs as a body flung into her, a pair of arms wrapping around her shoulders.

"Ombretta, oh my good stars." Her mother whispered, squeezing her daughter as tight as she could. "You're alright..."

Ombretta wrapped her arms around her mother, "yeah...yeah I'm alright."

"Oh! It was horrible, when you didn't come home I assumed you were taken as well..."

"So..it's true then?" Ombretta asked as she let go of her mother. "All the children were...?"

Maren nodded. "It was so fast, Rusl got badly injured, the mayor went out and your father as well. But they're up there in age so Ciel went with them and took Kano and oh!" She shut her eyes tightly, rubbing her forehead. "I can't help but think the worst."

Ombretta glanced down at her feet, her eyebrows furrowing together before shooting her gaze back up at her mother, Link's words floating around her mind. "Where's dad's old huntin' clothes?"

"Huh?"

"Where are dad's old huntin' clothes?"

"In-in a chest, in our room." Maren stammered out, following Ombretta as she raced up the stairs and into the main bedroom. "Ombretta, what are you doing?"

"I'm going."

"What?"

Ombretta pulled out the clothes, draping them over her arm as she stood up. "Link's going to find the children, and I'm going with him."

"Ombretta, no." Her mother protested, blocking the doorway. "I won't let you!"

"Mom..."

"Don't "Mom" me."

"Mom...I gotta go, if I can help in any way, I'm going to."

Maren sighed, moving away from the doorway after a few minutes, allowing Ombretta to rush past her and into her room.

Pulling on the hunting clothes, Ombretta stilled in her movements, staring at herself in the mirror. It felt like the previous day was finally catching up with her, her body beginning to feel sluggish, knees beginning to tremble as she lowered herself to the ground, her face going straight into her hands once more. She only lifted her face out of her hands when she felt a body next to her, peering at her mother.

"...Will you be okay, mom?"

Maren nodded, smoothing the back of Ombretta's hair. "I will be, I have a feeling that you need to go."

Ombretta shrugged a shoulder, the corner of her mouth lifting. "Then we share the feelin'." With a heavy sigh, Ombretta pushed herself to her feet, grabbing the arm guards and slid them on before pulling on her boots she mostly wore for travelling.

"Come to the kitchen once you're finished," Maren said as she stood up after Ombretta before leaving the room.

Her nose crinkled a bit as she looked to the door, sighing before turning back to the mirror, checking if everything was in place. It felt a little weird, the clothes being bigger than what she was used to, her belts being the only thing keeping some things in place but that being a given she supposed. Deeming that everything was good, she left her room, pulling her hair to the side so she could throw it in a quick braid.

Walking into the kitchen, Maren stood by the table. In her hand was a brown leather pouch, on the table were two scabbards laying on the tablecloth.

"Here, this was mine when I was younger. I figured you'll get some more use out of it."

"Oh, thank you, Mom." Ombretta thanked as she took the pouch from her, attaching it to one of her belts. "And thanks for pulling out my swords. But I'm shocked you put them on the table. I thought 'no weapons on the table'?"

"Oh, shush you."

Ombretta laughed, putting the scabbards on her hips, but her laughter dying down quickly as she stared at her mother.

"Please, be careful."

Ombretta simply just nodded. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, her saying anything would feel like an empty promise. She already knew what they were facing, it wasn't going to be easy. And she felt like her mother knew that as well. Giving her one last look, Ombretta raced out of her house and towards Link's house, where said man was climbing down his ladder.

"Ombretta?" He said once he noticed she was there. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm coming with you."

"Ombretta, no way."

"Yes way."

"Ombretta..."

"Link, I need to come with you." Ombretta crossed her arms, her stare becoming hard. "I wouldn't feel right just having you go on your own, plus those kids are just my responsibility as yours..."

"And the third argument?"

"What if Midna's right?" Ombretta sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. "What if the answers I want are out there? If I can kill multiple birds with one stone, so be it."

Link couldn't help but smile slightly at his friend's determination, "it's gonna be dangerous y'know."

Ombretta smiled back, "I was countin' on it."

"Well, then we better not waste anymore time."

"Lead the way."

So they went, silence surrounding them as they trekked through the forest. With each step taken, Ombretta could feel her nerves coming more and more alert, the pain slowly coming back, not the skull splitting pain she was growing accustomed to, but like a simple poke. It was like her own body was trying to warn her. Warn her of what, she didn't know.

She didn't dare say anything out loud though, what would she even say? Link would probably attempt to tell her to turn around and go back home. She couldn't have that. So she simply pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, focusing in front of her.

"How's your leg?"

"Hm?"

"Your leg," Link pointed down. "How is it?"

"Oh!" Ombretta patted her leg slightly, "It's fine, I used some of the spring water I told you to have, nothing but a dull ache now."

"Oh that's good!" Link said. "You have no idea how nice it feels to talk again, I thought I was gonna go insane."

Ombretta giggled. "I can't imagine. I would never want to be in your shoes-oh yeah, gate's still locked." Ombretta walked over to the wooden gate, giving the metal lock a few tugs. "Yeah no that's not happening."

"Let me go talk to Coro, maybe he'll have a key or something."

"Coro?"

"The guy who lives in the shack just over there?" He pointed to the clearing.

"Oh! Him, yeah okay." She said, watching Link take the path to the left. She leaned against a rock face, arms draped across her chest as she waited for Link.

"Don't tell me you're bored now."

Ombretta jumped back with a yelp at the sudden voice, scowling when she saw the black shadowy figure of Midna floating next to her. "Sweet Nayru, What are you doing?"

"Saying hello."

"And scaring me outta my wits more like it." She scoffed, moving back to lean against the rock wall, her hand pressed against her chest. "Oh my poor heart...so, what's with the shadowy-ness?"

"It's the only way I can be in your light."

"Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense huh? I can understand you a bit there I suppose." She shrugged, lifting up her arm. "The sunlight doesn't really like me either. But, what can you do, right? It won't kill me."

"No, the sunlight won't."

"Oh! Link," Ombretta pushed herself off the rock, Midna fleeing back into her shadow. "Well?"

Link held up a small key, "I also got a bottle of oil for the lantern."

"Did he just give it to you?"

"Oh no," Link said as he went to unlock the gate. "Sold to me for about a hundred rupees."

"A hundred rupees? Link!"

He shrugged, giving Ombretta a guilty smile as he pushed the gate open.

"You're too nice for your own good, I swear." Ombretta said as she walked past him through the gate. "Speaking of which, what did you tell Rusl and Uli about the sword you stole from them?"

"I didn't tell Rusl anything and Uli assumed that a monster stole it and I just happened to get it back." He replied, jogging to meet Ombretta's side, a now lit lantern in his hand.

"Wait, whaddya mean by that?"

"Rusl was badly injured, he had just fallen asleep when I went there."

"And what about Uli? Is she okay? And the baby?"

Link nodded, making Ombretta sigh, her hand clutching at her heart. "Goddesses, the poor woman, husband injured, son missing and heavily pregnant."

"Speaking of that, how's your parents?"

"Well, only spoke to mom. Dad joined the mayor on his search and Ciel went with them and mom is just...distraught."

"Which is why we need to find everyone as soon as possible."

Ombretta nodded. "Quick question," she asked as they were nearing the opening of the tunnel. "If the purple fog’s still there, how are we getting across?"

"Oh I didn't even think 'bout that." Link scratched at his cheek as he peered at the purple fog that was still as thick covering the forest floor. "You can "jump" I guess but me-HEY!"

It was a second, from Link holding the lantern to then being in the clutches of a monkey, who put it on a long branch. Ombretta took a step forward, but was held back by Link, watching as the monkey made her way to the end of the broken bridge, waving the lantern around then turning around, making the motion to follow.

"Hey, what's this monkey's problem?" Midna asked as she popped out from the shadows. "You idiot! While you two were chit chatting, your lantern got stolen!"

"Excuse you, Midna. But we were trying to figure out how we're gonna get across, no need for names."

Ombretta locked her jaw as Midna merely scoffed as she dove back into Link's shadow.

"Let's just follow the monkey, maybe she can help us."

"Hm, fine." Ombretta sighed.

They made their way towards the monkey, who jumped down from the broken bridge, instantly waving the lantern around. And to their amazement, watched as the fog moved, as if it was trying to get away from the light as much as possible.

"Well, that solves that issue." Link pointed out as he jumped down from the bridge, holding his hand out for Ombretta to take. "I have good ideas."

Ombretta took Link's hand, stumbling slightly as she landed. "Um, it's more the monkey's idea than yours but sure!" She giggled, following the monkey as she kept waving for them to follow.

The walk was mostly eventless. Other than the occasional keese or deku baba showing up, they safely made their way up to the gate to the north part of the woods. The monkey jumping around as they got to a safe part of the woods, the lantern falling off the stick and the monkey running off past the gate.

"Huh, at least she helped us right?" Ombretta shrugged. "And gave us back the lantern, somewhat?"

Link nodded, picking up the lantern and looking it over. "Used up all the oil though. Luckily I bought more." Link pulled out a jar of oil, giving it a little shake towards Ombretta. "See? I was smart to buy the oil."

"Oh, I wasn't against you getting the oil, I was against you paying a hundred rupees for only one jar."

Link merely shrugged his shoulders as he filled up the lantern, making Ombretta roll her eyes.

"And how do you plan on getting more money?"

"There's treasure in temples, isn't there?" Link said nonchalantly as he continued past the second gate.

"Oh, we're temple robbers now?"

"Ombretta..."

She giggled, shoving him lightly. "I'm just pullin' your leg." She went silent after that, something feeling like it was stirring inside her, the warning feeling showing up once more. "Pull out your sword."

"Huh?"

Ombretta pulled out one of hers, "Pull out your sword." she repeated, her walking became more slow and cautious as they neared a clearing, the likeness of two bokoblins standing within the clearing, their backs to them. Slowly, Ombretta inched her way behind them, getting close enough before trusting her sword forward, her blade going through one. The other one let out a single squawk before Link's blade followed Ombretta's.

"How did you know that these two would be here?" Link asked as he pulled his sword out, sheathing it.

"I didn't." Ombretta replied as she followed Link's movements, watching the two bokoblins turning to black dust. "I just...had a weird feeling. Almost like I knew that there was danger, before I really knew myself?"

"Weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Hey!!"

Both Link and Ombretta looked to the right, to the small hideaway vendor or rather, to the lone bird sitting within the hideaway vendor.

"Buy something! Anything!" The bird squawked, waving it's wings about.

"I didn't know there was a vendor here."

"I didn't either until that day that Talo was captured." Link walked towards a large vat, filled with what Ombretta assumed to be lantern oil.

She watched as Link pulled out the empty bottle from before, dipping in the vat of oil. After making sure he put the right amount of money in the box, Link walked back to Ombretta, sliding the bottle back in his pouch.

"There! Now we have extra, just in case."

Ombretta rolled her eyes once again, continuing to the temple, only to stop at the sight of a golden wolf just sitting in front of the narrow path, just staring at her, nothing like she had ever seen before. She slowly inched closer to the wolf, who just sat there unbothered. She jumped back once the wolf suddenly moved into an attack stance, growling but not at her.

But to the man beside her.

Both of them pulled out their blades, watching even for the slightest movement. Ombretta put her blades up to block as the wolf made a lunge at them or specifically, at Link. There was abruptly a flash of a blinding light, causing Ombretta to promptly shut her eyes tightly. She opened them after a few moments, the light slowly fading away. She scanned the area, looking for any signs of the golden wolf, but couldn't see any traces of it. Seeming like it just disappeared along with the bright light.

"That was odd, don'tcha think?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing at the lack of response. "Link?" She asked once more, looking to her left.

She let out a gasp as she saw her friend laying on the ground, still as a board. Instantly, she fell to her knees, barely acknowledging Midna popping out of the shadows, pressing her ear to his chest. Relief washed over her as she felt his chest rising, a heartbeat under her ear. A slow one but a heartbeat nonetheless.

"What was that about?"

Ombretta shrugged as she lifted her head off his chest, giving Link a shake, frowning at the lack of movement from him. "I don't know. He's alive, that's all I know. Something tells me that wolf isn't an ordinary wolf..."

"So, now what?"

Ombretta sat back on her heels. "We wait."

She didn't know how long she waited, Midna having gone back into Link's shadow after a while. But finally and to Ombretta's relief, a small groan escaped his lips, his face scrunching up before opening his eyes.

"Link! You're alright!"

"Yeah..." Link drawled out as he slowly sat up, rubbing his forehead. "I'm alright..."

"What happened?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that the wolf turned into a skeleton that I had to meet in battle, called me a disgrace and taught me a sword technique?"

All Ombretta could do was blink at Link, scanning his face for any trace of a lie.

"I'm not kidding."

"Well....I'm glad you're okay at least?" Ombretta dragged out as she stood up, helping Link stand up as well. "I believe you, but wow that's a lot in thirty second."

"Tell me about it." Link shook his arms, rolling his head around his shoulders. "It was...really weird."

"To say the very least. Are you okay to continue?"

Rolling his shoulder one last time, Link nodded, "let's go."

They made up the narrow winding path up to the temple once more, quickly cutting down the two bokoblins standing in front of the temple's entrance, which was covered by a large silk web. Ombretta swallowed thickly the more she stared at it. She didn't want to meet the thing that made that.

She looked to Link, who had pulled out his lantern, it already flickering to life. With a final nod, Link swung the lantern at the web, the flame quickly catching it, the web disappearing within seconds. The familiar feeling of dread settled into her stomach once again, but with a single deep breath;

They stepped in.

#link x oc #link x reader #twilight princess #legend of zelda #Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess #twilight princess link #TP Link

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magnusbae · 4 years ago

Note

12 + malec please 😍

50 Types of Kisses - Send in a number and a pairing!

Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

1,129w | a bit of lip gloss for your enjoyment :)

▾▾▾

The downworld cabinet meeting goes as well as one might have expected. The constant bickering, remarks and downright nasty jabs are to be expected. With this many supernatural beings all holed up in the one place they all commonly dislike, it’s surprising things don’t escalate any further.

The sheer incompetence would typically render Alec’s collected expression into an annoyed scowl, a few admittedly sassy remarks escaping when he should be patient and the bigger man.

Right now though, quite frankly? Alec couldn’t care less. They might as well be discussing the downfall of the clave, installment of a bring-a-mundane-friend-to-work day for the vampire community and the shipment of werewolves to outer space.

Whenever the room quiets and waits for his input, he hums in agreement. A skill he had mastered during the many video calls with his parents as the acting head of the institute. All the while, his eyes don’t budge from Magnus.

The warlock, who for all intents and purposes is not his boyfriend during the meetings, seems to not pay any attention to this. In fact, he seems to be so focused on the discussion that his eyebrows are furrowed in focus and he’s pursing his lips in thought. His very lush, glossy, rosier than usual lips.

He’s wearing lip gloss-- Alec realizes with a sudden tug at his gut--by the angel, Magnus is wearing a lip gloss.

Or at least he assumes it’s what it is, it’s right in the name lip and gloss, he did catch a few details from Izzy’s make up talks over the tears. Whatever it is, Alec is hyper focusing on the way it makes Magnus’ lips look fuller than usual, shining and looking positively kissable. He wonders how they’d feel under his own lips.

Gods, he did not even know it was a thing until half an hour ago, when Magnus arrived, grand and beautiful, sitting right into his chair with one fluid motion.

Alec’s breath shallows until he’s barely breathing, eyes darkening to the point it looks he has murder on his mind. He doesn’t even notice the incredulous look Raphael shoots into his direction, nor the cynical remark about how it might be a good time for a ‘break’.

Alec hums, voice rough around the edges, agreeing.

“Really? The high and mighty shadowholic would truly allow us a break?” Meliorn raises his eyebrow, amused “Do we have permission to roam the institute or should we sit here?” he’s playing, not that Alec cares much for it.

“Yeah, yeah whatever you want” Alec stands, clearing his throat and finally-- finally tearing his gaze away from Magnus, who seems to be playing the nonchalant warlock part perfectly. “Back here in ten...” he reconsiders “fifteen minutes” there finality in his tone, he does not have the mood for talking.

“Mr. Bane?” his voice deepens an octave as he addresses the high warlock of Brooklyn. “Would you care to pass a few words outside?”

Magnus, who made a point of inspecting his perfectly painted nails, meets his eyes with a mirthful glint and a curl of his perfectly shaped lips. “But of course Mr. Lightwood, I will always have a moment to discuss important downworld business with the head of the New York institute” he stands up gracefully, swinging on his heels and heading towards the door without waiting a moment longer, like he’s been waiting for this invite all along.

Alec follows immediately, pointedly ignoring the snorts from behind him.

Magnus is waiting just outside the door, wearing a calm, satisfied smile. His tongue flicks and touching the corner of his lips, drawing Alec’s focus back to the way his lips shine with a warm, natural pink. So soft it’s barely there. But oh, it’s there. It’s there and it’s driving Alec completely crazy. So he grabs Magnus’ hand without losing a step, and pulls him after himself into the corridor.

“Alexander” Magnus laughs, following him with easy half jog until he catches up “Where are we going, the cabinet is--” his words are cut off when Alec finally comes to a halt, pulling Magnus with him just behind the corner, into a hidden passage “--Alexander” he purrs with a surprised satisfaction “What are you doing pulling the warlock representative to a dark corner like this?” he teases.

“This” Alec says pointedly, wrapping his free arm around Magnus’ waist and pulling him closer to kiss him on the lips. And heavenly fire-- they feel so different, so slick and glossy and-- “...by the angel” he pulls back, eyes wide “...this, you, that.” he moves their joint hands in an accusing manner, gesturing at Magnus’ face. His lips. His perfect, pretty lips.

“That?” Magnus smiles, the tip of his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth, again “Oh, you mean my lip gloss?” he asks as if he didn’t know Alec was staring at him consistently for the last half hour “It’s the season, I hate dry lips and...” he drops the act with a satisfied hum “....quite frankly I enjoy distracting you, my pretty boy” he leans up to peck Alec’s lips with a louder than necessarily smooch. “You’re so cute when you gape” his eyes crinkle with fondness.

“Hey, I don’t gape” Alec protests, Adam’s apple jumping as he stares at the way Magnus pursues his lips again, making a little kissy face at him. He’s too cute. He wants to kiss him silly for hours. He wants to ravish those lips. He wants to--

“Of course you don’t” Magnus says, overly fondly, like he knows what dark thoughts pass through Alec’s head and finds them endearing. He leans up and kisses him again, less loudly this time. “You just sit there, thinking about very serious matters” the next kiss is even softer than before, their lips slide easily together, the sensation gets him to shudder.

“Magnus” Alec groans, heat pooling in his lower tummy, he can’t help the little smile though because Magnus is playing with him so easily it’s ridiculous. “..you’re.. ruining my... uh...” he tries to remember the word “...reputation..” his breath is heavy and eyes back at Magnus’ lips.

Magnus laughs and kisses his lower lip, their noses brushing. “You don’t seem to mind” he purrs, tongue sliding against his upper lip “besides.. that’s what boyfriends are for, no...?” Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s neck, pulling him down into a more comfortable position.

“Now kiss me, Mr. Lightwood” he whispers into his mouth.

When they’re finally back, horribly late, Alec’s hair is ruffled and his lips are glossy pink. Despite glaring at everyone, Alec can’t quite meet their gazes for the rest of the meeting. Magnus seems to be overly satisfied with himself. Alec can’t even be mad with him, when he’s this handsome.

#Malec #Malec fic #sweetie it took me so long to reply-- things been hectic and I also lost this text so I had to rewrite--#I hope you would enjoy it and have a lovely weekend!#thank you so much for sending the prompt <3 #Alec Lightwood #Magnus Bane #Shadowhunters #I edited it so many times that there might be some silly mistakes but i really am not up for any more fixing #undercover bby #msg #buns.w #buns.all

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barashikki-dialoversoc · 4 years ago

Text

03. First Taste

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: infliction of pain, dub con (biting and kissing)

-----

The first few days of settling in were… interesting.

Bara was able to set up her room with her belongings. She had to start adjusting to a night school schedule. But the most difficult part was dealing with the brothers.

Some were tolerable, like being in the same room as Shu, Subaru, or Reiji was calm. Bara kept to her business and didn’t bother them if they had to share a space. Most of her time was spent in a chair or on a sofa reading her own book when moments like this happened.

But if one of the triplets entered, it was a whole other story.

Ayato constantly pestered her with continuous flirting and obnoxious behavior. Thankfully for her, she had a lot of patience and was able to bore Ayato quite quickly by ignoring him and not returning reactions he wanted from her. Kanato was sometimes annoying, but Bara found herself abandoning her book usually to converse with him since he wasn’t as forward as his brothers. Although she did find she isn’t a fan of his clinginess if he did happen to hug or lean against her. Laito… he was hell. Bara found herself having to remove herself completely from him and usually having to find another brother to get him to go away.

Thankfully today, the only one in the room with her was Shu. Both of them were in their own respective areas, Shu on the sofa with his earbuds in and Bara in an armchair reading one of her newer books on herbal medicine. From what she noted from when around Shu, she did her best to not verbally make comments to herself when reading.

It wasn’t until noise came from someone walking in the room did Bara pull her eyes off the pages of her book. She spotted the smaller figure and gave a small smile.

“What are you doing?” Kanato asked her.

“I’m currently reading a book. Did you want to see which one?”

His expression panned a bit, showing his interest faded. “You’re always reading. It’s boring.”

Bara’s smile weakened slightly. “Well, it’s my main hobby. And my other hobby I enjoy I don’t think I’d be allowed to do here.”

Kanato rolled his eyes at Bara’s reply. “I’m bored. I want to do something fun.”

A bit of frustration came from Bara as she tried to tolerate Kanato’s pestering nature. It’s obvious he wanted her attention, but she didn’t know how to do it right.

Then an idea struck her.

“What about yours, Kanato? Is there something you like to do for fun that multiple people can do?” She asked.

“I like spending time with Teddy… Sometimes he and I have our own little tea parties.” Kanato looked at his bear affectionately. His eyes then wandered to Bara before speaking again. “Say, you could have a tea party with us right now.”

Bara did a quick glance at the time, seeing it would still be a while before she had her planned sleep. She could do it, although she hadn’t had a tea party since she was a little girl. “I’m able to. Just let me take care of my book and then we can.” She got up and put her bookmark in the book as she did so. Kanato was hot on her heels as they made their way to her bedroom, where Bara tucked her book into the small nook she had made on the desk.

“So…” Bara began as she stood back up and began to turn around. “What type of drinks do you like at your…” She was stopped short when facing Kanato, finding him way too close to her for comfort and the immediate grip on her arms slightly painful.

His head dipped down to her neck, inhaling her scent. This time the nuisance of a scarf wasn’t there, so it was all free reign for Kanato to explore the smell coming from Bara.

“What’re you…”

“Shut up.” Bara could hear Kanato take in a deep inhale after his comment. Her skin tickled where his nose was at.

“For a drink… I’d rather have blood than some measly tea that’s going to be bitter.” Kanato scrunched his face up at the thought of something too dark touching his tongue. It had been a long time since there had been a sacrificial bride, he wanted fresh blood. The scent of Bara’s was enough to send him wanting to divulge in as much as he could.

“W-Wait…” Bara attempted to push against Kanato, gently, as she knew he was fast to anger. “Could you at least not bite hard? And maybe not somewhere that could prove dangerous to me?” She knew it was going to be inevitable that he would bite her, but she wanted some assurance she wouldn’t be completely uncomfortable or seriously injured if so.

Kanato only looked at her from his spot. She couldn’t see his gaze, but he sent one of irritation in her direction. A mere human girl would not change what he wanted. If he wanted to feast on her here, then he would. And why care about her comfort when he was the one who was hungry and suffering for so long?

His lips made connection with Bara’s skin, making the girl flinch away from the touch. She was scared, and rightfully so. But Kanato wasn’t having any of it, he wanted to drink now.

His arms went to wrap completely around her with one hand snaking up and grabbing the nape of her neck and also tangling his fingers in her hair there. The grip was hard and firm, restricting Bara from moving her head anymore. A small whimper came from Bara as she went to brace herself.

She had fended off others who had pestered her for her short time there, so she still had no idea how bad a bite would be. The grip alone from Kanato was already hurting her. She could feel the harshness of the yank on her hair, the steel tight-like grip of his arms also left her in a position of only shallow breaths as well.

In the next moment, it was only Bara’s cries of pain as Kanato dug into her flesh with his fangs. Blood pooled out rapidly, making Kanato latch his lips against Bara’s skin as well to trap any of the red liquid from escaping. The pain continued to radiate for the period Kanato had his fangs dug into Bara’s jugular. They left a stinging sensation as he pulled them out, but Kanato didn’t stop there. He kept his lips latched on, sucking on the skin the wound was put into, drawing out more blood and bruising the skin there.

In an attempt, Bara nudged her head slightly, only earning herself another bite from Kanato. She was not to move or else he would punish her for going against him, although it was also difficult to tell if it was more for his pleasure. Her body also was pulled even closer to him, tighter, and for more access to her neck and shoulder. More bites began to litter her neck and some went down onto her shoulder as her cardigan was pulled away.

There was no way to fend for herself, Bara had to endure it. Her grip began to loosen on Kanato’s shirt, fingers still clinging on, but not as secure as before. It was an odd feeling, her own self being drained from her, and the side effects of losing the blood being the weakening of her limbs and a small buzz begin in her head.

She could feel as they shifted, her back up against something flat and cold, probably her desk. Even if she was slightly dizzy, it was hard for her to understand what was going on when not in proper focus. Even when another whimper came from her lips, she wasn’t aware, not even with how it affected the vampire still taking his fill from her.

Kanato continued to suck on her flesh for a few more moments before turning to lick the wounds. They sealed up quickly, acting upon the abilities he had to keep a human from bleeding out. But not only that but the taste of this girl’s blood…

Slightly sour, but delectably sweet. The slight tingle on his tongue as he had drunk from her made him want more. The way it smoothly flowed, like a sweet and sugary drink, down his throat was a feeling he wanted to continue to taste. And he definitely didn’t want to share it with any of his brothers.

He was obsessed.

Kanato went to use his hand behind Bara’s neck to reposition her head so he could look at her face. She was still squinting from the pain, trying to endure how he was treating her. It was cute to him, seeing her suffer from his hand. But he also knew… that little noise she made was the first sign he could break her into what he wanted, to make her his perfect doll.

She had the features for it. The soft jawline, it was rounder instead of following the obsession over the v-shape, that those in the current country focused on. She had slender eyes, not wide, but just large enough to show off her grayish-green eyes, a rare trait for someone in this region as well. Small lips that were the right size for her face. A soft nose, strong enough to be prominent but still delicate in features. And the feel of her hair… was soft, completely straight if not tousled around too much. She looked like she could be a perfect living doll for Kanato.

While he wanted more of her blood, he wanted to taste another part of her. To see how innocent she truly was.

With a simple hoist, Kanato drew Bara back up towards him. She clung to him for safety, making the vampire enjoy the moment more. First going to him for protection, now relying on him so she didn’t possibly fall. It made him all too giddy.

“I want to taste more of you,” Kanato muttered as he pulled Bara’s face close to his.

She tried to look at him with as much focus as she could but struggled to properly comprehend. “What do you…” Bara was cut off with Kanato’s lips slipping and fitting against hers.

A small “chu” could be heard as Kanato disconnected, but like with the bites he didn’t stop at one. More kisses were placed against Bara’s lips as Kanato reveled in the taste of her flesh and small bits of her inner mouth he did delve into. He wanted more, to taste more of her.

The kisses became deeper, some sounds of squeaks and surprised gasps leaving Bara as Kanato continued to ravage her mouth. She had no experience and she wasn’t expecting someone to commit such an act with her for quite a while. It’s thanks to this that Kanato could break in so easily, enjoying every little bit he could explore of her mouth.

This taste…

It’s going to get addicting.

#Bara Shikki #Bara Shikki Story #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers oc #dl oc #Bara Shikki Series #writing #oc writing #Bara x Kanato #oc story

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ruubles · 4 years ago

Text

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 6790

Y/N) stood at the back of the gazebo, her body leaned atop the white wooden rail as she stared out across the well maintained garden. Flowers twisted in the moonlight and swayed in the gentle breeze, rose bushes stood without a branch out of place and recently pruned, and the fountain brought a continuous stream of sound. These little details had been the focus of her attention, the only thing dragging her mind away from the bodiless head sitting on the ground behind her.

She hadn’t brought herself to do anything with it yet, leaving it there in hopes that maybe it was just a hallucination, but the longer she stood the more the realization came crashing down. In her time under the Port Mafia she’d seen, and done, horrible things that were considerably worse than this. Even so, she was shocked that someone would risk their life to get the corpse only to leave its head behind as a warning.

That’s what this was. A warning.

A warning to stay away. A warning to not track these people down. Whoever had been responsible for this murder was dangerous and they wanted the mafia to know that. They not only created a drug that could remove someone’s ability, but they went through all the trouble of tracking the victim down to keep this information from them. It was a basic strategy but well thought for this situation. As long as they left behind as little traceable evidence as possible then it would be near impossible to find the culprit.

“Fuck. That sure explains the missing body.” (Y/N) had lost herself in thoughts of the situation and hadn’t noticed Chuuya’s approach. She didn’t bother to turn around and listened as he approached her, his steps were shallow light as he took the longest route around the head. After a moment she felt him beside her, his arms crossed and laid on the railing. “You should have told me you found something, I was still searching the house!”

He huffed a little as he spoke, eyes focused ahead just as hers were. “Sorry, I guess I got caught up thinking about something. I haven’t had a partner in quite some time.”

“Tch. You don’t have to apologize, I’m not used to a partner either. Last time I had one, it was that shitty Dazai.”

(Y/N) chuckled, her grim face shifting to one with a slight smile. She shook her head at the mention of the suicidal man, he was quite the topic in the Port Mafia, even after he abandoned them. “I was never that close with Dazai, but I knew of him through a friend. It would seem many people perceive him in different ways.”

“Many people don’t like him, and I couldn’t agree with those people more.” Chuuya turned to look at (Y/N), finally acknowledging that she had at some point turned to face him. Her (E/C) eyes met his and he could see that glint in them, not the one of seriousness from this morning, but the playfulness he’d seen in her last night.

“Who are you Chuuya Nakahara?”

The question was a strange question, similar to the ones he’d been asked when they first met only twenty-four hours before. “That’s a dumb question for someone Mori spoke so highly of.”

“I’m no fool Chuuya Nakahara, I’ve looked into the case files of almost every high ranking member of the Port Mafia. You are the person with the least amount of information. I was able to get more from Mori’s own public file than your private one.” (Y/N) backed away from the ledge and took a few steps away from Chuuya, carefully watching her movements to stay a good distance from the head. “I’m working with someone who I know nothing about. Mori knows you’re loyal to him, but I have no reason to believe that you wouldn’t shoot me if the opportunity provided itself.”

“Now why would I do that? Mori made you my partner, and I’m not going to disobey a direct order from him.” Chuuya scoffed and turned to face her. “Plus you’re one to talk about minimal information when your file doesn’t exist. I may not be the most strategic person in this mafia, but I do like knowing who I’m dealing with.”

“It would seem we’ve hit a roadblock then. My files, both public and private, were burned upon request and I assume the missing information from yours is also ash.” (Y/N) stepped towards Chuuya, their eyes locked in a challenge with one another. Her eyes changed rapidly to a dark piercing gaze, as if the trust she’d gained for him had drained at a rapid pace. “I have no doubt that our partnership will be beneficial in this case, but if neither of us trust one another then I see no reason for us to be friends.”

~x~

Chuuya’s eyes remained glued to the road ahead, his ears honed in on the quiet breathing of the seat diagonal to his own. If he focused he could see the faint outline of a person in his peripheral vision, but their body still remained shrouded in darkness. (Y/N) had chosen to sit in the back of his car, to the seat opposite of her was a bloody bag securely buckled down.

They hadn’t spoken even a word after their show down in the gazebo, perhaps newfound apprehension had been built between both parties. Few people knew of Chuuya’s past, but he understood that the mystery made any relations he had with another person difficult. For all (Y/N) knew he was a treacherous fiend that would stab her at moments notice. Though that statement applied for him as well, he had done his digging in the hours before he’d seen her standing alone outside and the stories of her did not disappoint.

The woman without a face, that was the constant whenever they mentioned her. He hadn’t a clue what it meant but whatever it was made her dangerous. Far more than most people of the mafia. Tidbits of information wormed their way into his mind, some of which were likely untrue, but the more he learned the less he really knew. From what he’d been told she’d joined the mafia at a fairly young age, just a little bit before the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and during the conflict was when her true strength had come to light. Mori promoted her just after the whole fight started, but he told no one but Daza and a few people who knew of her.

“Tomorrow I propose we go to the scene of the fight. We could likely find some bullet casings or leftover blood. It could be a lead for where to find these people.” Chuuya could see in his eyes that even though she was speaking to him, she hadn’t turned away from the window.

“We could go in the morning and-”

“Afternoon.” She cut him off. “I have business to attend tomorrow morning and I would much rather not be forced to reschedule. My apologies for cutting you off, but please continue.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes but made no comment on her rude interruption. “Then we can meet up tomorrow afternoon; Do you need a ride?”

(Y/N) hummed to herself for a moment before answering him. “If it isn’t too much trouble. My business is at a bakery on Southwest Street: Kim’s Kreamy Delights. They have some of the best sweets I’ve ever tried, I’m a big fan of their Dasik, but Mrs.Kim only makes them on Lunar New Year. When it’s not around that time, I usually get a kkwabaegi.”

“You seem well acquainted with sweet treats, I assume you know that they aren’t healthy.” Chuuya’s comment was somewhat judgmental, but it seemed to fly over (Y/N)’s head. Her mind still focused on the warm treats she would get whenever she was in town.

“I know that, but I do things for the enjoyment of myself. We are members of a mafia Chuuya, I’ve never expected to live a long life, nor a happy one. If you wish to judge then do so but I will not be changing my habits based on your criticism.” He had thought she hadn’t noticed the backhanded rudeness he’d displayed but it seems as though she had.

There was a strange silence that fluttered through the air of the car as the light of the city finally made its way through the car's windows. Slowly the trees on the outer rim of the city turned to buildings and the streetlamps illuminated the faces, every post passing by in a fleeting second before another one replaced the eerie orange light. Chuuya’s car sped down the street, not one to abide by normal street laws, and every sharp turn brought them closer to the mafia’s headquarters.

After a couple of minutes he pulled up in front of the towering building, its floors spiralling upwards into the stars. Several windows could be seen alive with a blazing light, not a strange sight considering many of the mafia’s business matters occurred during this time of night. Usually Chuuya would be in there monitoring what went on in every crevice of that building, but instead he was heading home to an empty apartment where he’d be receiving regularly spaced messages updating him on what was going on. It had been Mori’s order for him to get some rest, but the work of a mafia member was never done when night fell.

“Are you sure I can’t drop you off at the place you’re staying at? I don’t mind driving a little further.” Chuuya had extended his offer not because he was kind, but because Mori had been clear that someone should be looking out for this woman. He’d gone as far as assigning Hirotsu to monitor her, there had to be a reason he’d want someone of such importance to watch out for someone as capable as an executive.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for the offer. There’s some papers I want to take a look at before going to my residence.” (Y/N) opened the door of the car, bringing both her legs out onto the sidewalk with a gentle click of her heels. She hesitated before turning back around. Her hand latched onto the top of the sheet that they had used as a handle and dragged the head towards her. “I truly am sorry for my words earlier. One of my bad habits is trying to forget my past, and I let that get to me. If it’s okay, I would like to take back my rude words.”

That was surprising. In the garden, (Y/N) had been so serious and gave off the same feeling that Mori gave off whenever someone questioned his authority. She was authoritative when she spoke of her burned files and her going back on her word of their relationship being nothing more than partners was something he hadn't expected. Thirty minutes ago he’d fully been prepared for her to be just another person he sees at work, but yet here she was apologizing. Every time they spoke it was like talking to another person, but this is the one who he’d met that had no apprehensions brought about by their job; This was the woman who was behind the mask of the mafia.

“I’m not one for friends.” (Y/N) had tried to hide the slight slump of her shoulders at his words, but he noticed the slight change before she stepped out of his car. She closed the door without turning around and began to walk towards the building's entrance. Chuuya rolled the window down and called out. “But I would like to try one of those kkwabaegi you were telling me about.”

She stopped her motions and turned to face him with the smallest of smiles on her face. “You butchered that name.”

“Oh shut up!” He snapped before rolling up the window and speeding off. (Y/N) watched as his car went down the street and eventually turned the corner. Her (E/C) bleary with a tiredness she’d held for so long. They were far from friends, but in the mafia did anyone really have a friend? A life like theirs was not made for relationships greater than the ones they formed at work and that was a fact (Y/N) had learned a long time ago. She didn’t expect anything from Chuuya, but she hoped that maybe when this was all over that there might be someone who wants her to stick around.

“So are you enjoying your new partner?” The voice was deep and sudden, there had been no one around moments before. (Y/N) showed no surprise of this person's newfound presence; She had known the moment he had appeared behind her. “The kids aren’t mad, but they are expecting you to take them out for ice cream. You’d better not disappoint them or I’ll pour all your wine into a bush.”

“Oh come on Isaac, I may not be the most caring person in the world but I wouldn’t disappoint those kids. Not again.” (Y/N) turned to face her friend. Isaac stood with his head turned up as he let out a puff of air and watched as it turned white and then disappeared. He wore the same outfit he wore whenever he was bartending: A dark gray button up tucked into a pair of pitch black jeans, simple but with the added spice of five undone buttons to reveal a well sculpted body beneath. He was a person of habit. “Did you just finish a shift?”

“No? What gave you that idea?” They walked side by side to one another, Isaac’s hand buried in his pocket as they approached the building.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, a deadpan expression replacing the sly smile she’d worn moments before. “You cannot tell me that outfit is the extent of your closet.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Isaac snapped, hand pulled from his pocket as he balled his fingers into a fist. “I have better fashion than you Ms.I-Dress-Like-An-Cubicle-Worker.”

“Oh quit it, you’re acting so childish, Isaac.” (Y/N) shook her head and walked into the building, neither of the guards questioning her presence much. Her comrade followed her lead and stayed close as though fearful of being found for being out of place. “I thought better of you.”

“Oh shut it you hag, let’s just get this over with.”

~x~

“I doubt there’s anything left at the scene of the fight. Especially if you say it's a city owned warehouse.” Isaac sighed and fell back on his chair before continuing. “They’re easy to access and I doubt that someone willing to go through all the trouble of disposing the body wouldn’t clear that place out.”

Mori sat at his usual spot at the head of the table, silent as he listened to both (Y/N) and Isaac shoot ideas off one another. He seemed enthralled in his own thoughts as he considered a plan of action. They all sat close to one another, Mori at the head of his table with one of them sitting in a chair on either side of the table. So close there was no need for their voices to be raised and that meant that anyone outside would have a hard time listening in.

It was strange for someone so strong and hated like Mori to allow an outsider like Isaac to ever be near him, but after all Mori had done for them both he trusted them more than a lot of the members of the mafia. (Y/N) was his executive and by extension Isaac was loyal, though he would not hold his tongue around him like she would.

“(Y/N), you must have an assumption as to who is behind this. Please clarify who it is.” Mori wanted to hear all the information, even if it might be wrong.

“Is that really even a question, Ougai? You’ve had the same assumption considering you didn’t only bring me back here, but you called a meeting with my old partner.” (Y/N) was apprehensive to continue, her idea had a lot of backing and would likely be true. For now it was only that, an idea, but the more they investigate the closer she’ll get to the life she used to have. “I think it was them. That old man is smart and a drug like this isn’t far from something he’d do.”

Isaac gritted his teeth, trying to find an argument for why it wouldn’t be them. Anything to keep the idea of them coming back out of his mind. They’d spent so much effort to escape their past and join Mori that even a possibility of the past coming back to haunt them was pestilent. “There wasn’t anything left with the part of the body they left behind. It’s protocol to leave them with every single body, you know that.”

“Of course I do, but there are exceptions to that rule! Given a direct order from him you don’t have to-”

“And if it is absolutely impossible, I know.” Isaac cut her off to continue his idea. “Something like this, so large, the old man wouldn’t want to let anyone take credit for it. He wants people to know it's them so they’ll be afraid.”

“There were roses in her garden.”

“You said she had a garden full of flowers of all kinds.” He argued back, hand hitting the table a bit too harshly. “A couple of roses bushes doesn’t fucking matter!”

“Enough.” Mori interjected. He’d taken both Isaac and (Y/N) in at a young age, but they both had a tough time before he found them. They may not have been together these past few years but they are still better partners than any two people who ever graced the mafia. Above all Mori sought to keep things neutral between them both so that they wouldn’t say anything they’d regret when things calmed down. “We have to think rationally and take a moment to talk it over. Neither of you are foolish, I’ve seen the things you can accomplish together but tensions are high right now. For now we assume it’s one of the recent organizations who have stood against us.”

It was silent for a moment as the pair thought things over. They’d lived a long life with shared pains but they both had managed to come out better for it. Isaac was raising five kids and smiled everyday as though it were his last, on the other hand (Y/N) buried herself in work and drowned herself with expensive delicacies to erase it all. They were like family and neither of them would blame the other for how things went after Oda’s death.

“If it’s not?” Isaac’s voice was low and gravelly as though he were on the verge of tears. It was weak and pitiful, but it explained exactly how they were feeling. “What if it is them, Mori? Do we fight them? We won’t win that.”

“It isn’t them.” (Y/N) cut in before Mori could say a word. “It can’t be. We went through so much to slaughter them during the Dragon’s Head Conflict. The numbers don’t lie, nearly every branch was pruned because of us. To come back now, and with enough people to even consider facing the Port Mafia, is impossible.”

Isaac slid his chair back and stood up, dark eyes more gloomy than they were glossy. “You seem to forget (Y/N), pruning is done to help a plant grow.”

~x~

Chuuya looked from his phone to the fancy hotel he’d parked across the street from. His eyes held hesitation as he scanned across the messages on his device one final time. Part of him wanted to ignore the messages and just go home, but doing this had become a ritual. A guilty pleasure that helped calm his riled nerves.

‘I don’t have work tonight if you want to drop by our special spot.’

‘C’mon Chuuya, at least let me know if you’re going to show up. I need to know if I should open the champagne sooner rather than later.’

‘Fine. I’ll be waiting, but until then let me leave you with a special present.”

‘Attachment: 1 Image’

Chuuya’s eyes scanned across the image once again, to say it was scandalous was an understatement. There was no face presented in the image, instead the picture captured a woman’s body adorned in a set of elegant hand-woven red lace lingerie. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the outfit considering he’d been the one to take it off her many times before.

Their relationship was nothing more than a late at night call whenever they needed to relieve some stress. Neither of them knew much of the other, their names had come the first night they’d grabbed a drink and their sexual desires came soon after. Though there were a few things he noticed: Her schedule was not linear, he’d get spontaneous messages throughout the month asking if he were free. Most of the time he could clear just a bit of time and make his way here to meet with her for a few hours.

They’d been doing this for months at this point and he still couldn’t wrap his head around the stupidity of his actions. Everytime he said he would end things off and never see her again, then as though he were wrapped around her finger he would be back here: Car parked in the same spot as always and his route to the room the same. A member of the mafia took a risk two or three times a month to visit a woman whose life he hadn’t a clue of.

Using his memory, Chuuya made his way through the lobby, passing by a clerk who offered a knowing nod in his direction. It was the same thing time after time but that familiarity was something he clung to. No one questioned him. No one asked why he did something. No one looked to him for answers. It was the opposite of what he did for work, but it was so much more freeing.

Taking the elevator up, Chuuya watched as the red numbers changed, going up one by one until finally the number fifteen. One final chime echoed through the metal cage and the doors slid open into a long spiraling hallway. Three steps out of the elevator, three doors to the right, and on his left. That path he’d memorized after his third meeting with this strange woman.

With a deep breath Chuuya tried to prepare himself to end this debacle that could become scurrilous if things were to go wrong. He opened the door and slid into the room quietly as though trying to go unnoticed. The sound of a running shwoer gently swayed throughout the room and he knew that she was getting ready for what she presumed to be his imminent arrival. He slid off his cape and hung it on the coat rack besides the door, his hat following suit.

The water shut off and a voice called out to him from somewhere beyond sight. “Oh Chuuya~”

Her voice was sweet as it called, drawing out the a at the end of his name to grab his attention. Getting the message he walked from the main room into the small, but still fairly large, bedroom. There she stood, body wrapped in a white towel that barely covered the most private portions of her body.

Alberta Einstein. She was a beauty to behold; her almond shaped eyes holding the deepest most dark irises you might ever see as if they were shadows coming to life with no light reflecting off of them. Long white hair would usually be flowing down her back and sway gently every time she took a step. Her figure was lean but she seemed to have curves in places that would make any man fall in a matter of moments. Now, standing bare in a bath towel, she was ravishing. Droplets of water dripping from her body and onto the floor, running from her neck down to her towel, and more littering the floor of the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure you would show.” Her feet sunk into the carpet as she walked towards Chuuya, imprints of water marking her chosen pathway. Once close enough, her hand danced around his top button before easily sliding it undone. Slowly she moved to the second button and slowly began to undo it as well, but she hesitated. “Something wrong?”

Her eyes danced up to meet his, a shade so dark that his light blue eyes could never fathom their depths. “We should stop this.”

“You’re quite right, Chuuya. This relationship is going no where and it never will: We’ve been having casual sex for months but neither of us have caught an ounce of feelings.” She leaned into his lips, heat fanning across his face as she spoke, still continuing to fiddle with his buttons. “But isn’t that the fun part, my dearest Nakahara? Life isn’t about love even if people wish it was; It’s about enjoying yourself so much that you can’t possibly find it in your soul to frown.”

She leaned in and finally met his lips in the softest most gentle kiss she’d ever given to him. Her lips were warm as she pressed her body flush against his. With quick hands she undid the buttons at a much faster pace than the one she’d set before. Chuuya knew better than to let her do this once again but he quickly melted into her touch. Their lips entwined with one another as her mouth parted to let a gentle moan escape.

“I must say your sexual prowess surprises me. For such a short man you truly are skilled in bed.” She taunted his height, attempting to mask it with a compliment. They’d played this game time and time before.

“Tch. Same as always Ally, crude and judgemental so much so that you can’t even acknowledge your own shortcomings.” He moved from her lips to just under her ear, teeth grazing against her earlobe and sending a shudder down and throughout her body. “Last time we were together I specifically remember you getting so worked up that you could barely beg for more.”

She smirked and gulped down a large portion of air. Ally was not nervous, it was apparent on her face, instead she was excited. “That’s because I’m not a beggar.”

Chuuya had a response gliding across his tongue but before it could come out the incessant ringing of a phone bleared through the room. Ally let out an audible groan and pushed Chuuya away, hand lingering on his unbuttoned shirt for just a bit too long. Part of him wanted to pull her back but then he reasoned with himself and realized that his wish of ending things could still come true. With the interference of an outsider he had caught the slipup he’d made many times before.

“What the hell do you want, Thomas?” Ally snapped through her phone, she paced back and forth as she listened to the person on the other line. After a moment she stopped dead in her tracks. “You really are useless without me. Fine, fine I didn’t mean it.”

She turned to Chuuya and gave that smile, the same one he’d often give her when his work called him away from the hotel room. Though this time he was pleasantly surprised by the situation. Furthering contact with someone so wrapped in mystery was not beneficial in any way. If anything it was dangerous and reckless. She meant nothing to him and that feeling was mutual, so neither of them had any real attachments to one another. It was best to end things here so that neither of them had too many hard feelings when things would inevitably go bad in a few more months. Casual sex and a freind with benefits was the closest he’d ever get to a real relationship given his line of work, but even that was something he hadn’t saught after much in his time.

“I was busy.” She growled into her phone before taking a deep breath and calming her nerves. After a moment her resolve and anger faded in one swift motion and she sighed. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, just wait for me in the meeting room okay?”

With a final goodbye she hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed. She followed suit with her phone and fell onto the white bedding, face smashing against the soft comforter they would usually be tangled in by now. “This is for the best Alberta. I meant what I said. My job isn’t the most lenient and I don’t need distractions right now, so this is my final goodbye to you.”

She turned to look at him, watching as he redid the buttons she’d worked to undo. Turning over she spread her arms across the bed and closed her eyes. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “That’s true, my job is also picking up pace right now. We have a big projecting starting and I’d hate to miss out on it because of an outside relationship. Perhaps when things settle down we could meet up again, relive the first we met.”

“That won’t be necessary, when I say final goodbye I mean it.” Her ears perked up and she sat up, realizing now that he had already left the room and slid on his jacket. She heard the door open and then once again his voice rang through her ears. “Find yourself someone who’s actually in love with you, okay? Someone who’s worth your time.”

With those final words, the door closed to the hotel room and she was left alone to her thoughts. Intrigued by the man who she’d enraptured by her beauty. She had no romantic feelings towards him, but she was quite sad that their days of booty calls would no longer be happening.

~x~

Chuuya walked through the halls of the Port Mafia’s building, against the order he’d been giving he returned to headquarters in hopes of catching Mori before he left. Though after travelling up to the top floor he’d come to the conclusion that his boss had already left. He’d likely have gone to get rest for the night or take Elise to do something better than sit around his office.

“Chuuya.” Kouyou’s appearance behind him was sudden, her steps quiet as ever as she approached with her usual long strides. Her dress swayed as she continued by his side. As usual she spoke and moved in a way so elegant that she resembled a goddess. “How is your evening? I could have sworn Mori told you to return to your residence.”

“It’s late Kouyou, you should’ve gone home hours ago.” Chuuya tried to divert the subject from his disobedience, but he knew that even so Kouyou would insist. She was a Port Mafia executive above all else but that did not mean she was heartless. It was fleeting comments that passed by ever so often that reminded him of this; She cared about him in a similar sense to how she cares for Kyouka. “Do you have any idea where Mori might be? It’s late but usually he wouldn’t have left by this time.”

“Last time I saw him, he was meeting with (Y/N) and that handsome young bartender. I always forget his name but he makes the most wonderful cocktails.” Her voice sounded nearly dreamy as she recalled the delicious drinks she’d enjoy ever so often. Kouyou was the type of person who could handle her liquor well, unlike himself, and he’d seen her drink a dozen fruity drinks without ever slurring a single word. It was honestly somewhat startling. “Though I do remember he stormed out and your partner followed close behind. They sounded as though they were having a heated discussion but I was too caught up in a phone call to hear much of what they said.”

“Isaac.” Chuuya said slowly , Kouyou perked up and turned to him with a soft questioning hum. “That’s his name. Why would Mori want to meet with a random bartender? I thought (Y/N) said she was going home.”

The woman next to him chuckled, she pressed the button to call the elevator before turning to him. “I have no clue why Mori would want to speak with that man but I assume he has a reason and we should not question him. As for (Y/N), I’m glad to see you’re getting along with her. You were quite opposed to your partnership during the meeting this morning.”

“Getting along isn’t the phrasing I’d use.” Chuuya grumbled, arms crossing as he turned to face the elevator instead of his mentor. “I don’t trust that woman. She’s hiding something and I’d rather not be staring down the barrel of a gun when I find out what it is.”

They fell into silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Chuuya wasn’t in the wrong for believing she was hiding something, no one who can switch their personality as quick as her is being genuine. Mori trusts her and that is abundantly clear but what isn’t is why he’d never heard of her. Another executive that no one knew of was strange to say the very least. For now he wouldn’t question her much, instead seeing what he can find out without her realizing he’s digging around for information.

Kouyou knew a little of (Y/N), Mori had told her some of the stories about the feats she’d completed during her time in Russia. She knew there was more to the story but if Mori had trust in her to stay loyal to them then it was not her place to question it. One thing was clear to her from the way that her boss spoke: (Y/N) was strong and she is not foolish, and keeping her hidden from everyone was a strategy of the finest creation. He hadn’t told her what his ability is but whatever it was it made her abnormally strong compared to a regular mafioso.

“Your accusation is likely true, she is hiding something from us but I believe that Mori knows exactly what it is. We’ve pledged our lives to the mafia which means we are to have faith in our boss.” Finally after what felt like minutes the elevator door dinged and began to open. “I have a strong feeling that you and your new partner aren’t nearly as different as you’d like to believe… Perhaps I’m just being foolish.”

“You really should be getting some rest, my dear (Y/N).” The voice of Mori coed from the elevator, his slender hands wrapped around her shoulders as he gave them a gentle squeeze. She tried to shrug him off but the further she got from his grasp the tighter his hold became. It was almost as though watching a father taking care of his young daughter, but below the surface they were hiding something. Chuuya and Kouyou had been so enraptured with their own conversation that they hadn’t bore witness to the quiet whisper Mori had slipped to (Y/N) before the doors were all the way open.

“Get off of me you old man!” She shouted, bringing her foot back on his before whirling around. Not noticing his presence, her back bumped against Chuuya’s chest. He stumbled a bit at the sudden added weight but his arms caught around her and steadied them both. Surprised, she turned to face her hero with an utterly sweet smile. “Oh? Hello Chuuya, I didn’t expect to see you again this evening. Did you not have plans to attend?”

Mori perked up at the mention of one of his executives, specifically the one he’d told to take the night off. “Plans fall through often, no big deal. I just thought I’d come to make sure that Mori had been given a full report on what we found.”

“There’s no need to worry Chuuya, (Y/N) has given me a full report and I have faith that your digging tomorrow will bring more information to light.” Mori straightened himself from the endearing man they’d seen moments ago. His voice had a cold demeanor as it always had when he spoke with them, though when he spoke with her it seemed he had a similar attitude to the one he used when communicating with Elise. “I have faith in the both of you to prove your worth as executives. May you prove my assumptions right that your partnership was not in vain, then perhaps I could be persuaded to give you both a raise befitting your work.”

(Y/N)’s eyes searched up Mori, her gaze travelling from his gloved hands up to his rigid smiling face. It was clear to her that he was faking every word and gesture as if hoping to give his two closest advisors a false sense of security. His whisper still rang in her ear, ‘For now, act as if our conversation with Isaac never happened. You are, and only are, an executive of the Port Mafia.’ The message was clear with what he wanted but the intent behind it was a mystery. Had he meant it as a form of comfort to remind her that her past was not to stop her from having a future, or was it a warning to keep up the act as a perfect mafia princess and play the diplomat role, perhaps it was neither and simply a reminder that her life has only ever been that of a pawn. Any way he went about saying it, there was obvious fabrication of joy in his face.

“Thank you, sir.” Chuuya took a low bow before his boss and Kouyou offered a small courtesy. “Though I would like to speak with you about a few things when you have the time.”

Mori looked from Chuuya to (Y/N) as though he were asking her what questions she’d brought about from Chuuya, but all she did was shrug in response. He would either ask about her past and her file or he would bring up the fact that their partnership was not in the best of graces. “I truly would love to speak with you about this Chuuya, but Elise has been waiting on me for hours! Tomorrow morning I should have a bit of free time if that’s okay.”

“That will be fine, thank you sir.”

“Now, as your boss, I must request that you all get some rest. Specifically you (Y/N). I know that bad habit of yours and I’d prefer it if it didn’t interfere with your work.” Mori’s words confused the two people who didn’t know much about her habits, but she understood it well enough. He had made a jab at her constant desire to work and the way she would stay awake until the point of utter exhaustion. It was a bad habit she’d had for a long time; But it was part of the reason she got so much work done. “Please do watch your phones in case there’s an emergency, but if there is not then enjoy your time off.”

Mori stalked away from the group and in the direction of his meeting room. “Well I should be going as well, I’ve got some place to be. May you both have a goodnight.” (Y/N) wasted no time in excusing herself from the situation, wanting nothing more than to find her way to a place she’d been meaning to visit since she returned to Yokohama.

“Do you need a ride?” Chuuya was not fond of (Y/N), and that feeling went both ways, but his partner had done nothing to wrong him yet. Until she did so, he would be kind and offer her a ride. Kouyou smiled to herself but used her fan to hide it; The gesture earned a glare from Chuuya. “I don’t mind, I’ve got a stop to make before I return to my apartment anyway.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer Chuuya.” (Y/N) stepped into the elevator and gave a small wave before the doors began to close and seal her away from them both. “Tomorrow afternoon, don’t forget okay?”

With that she was gone.

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