#please lord someone turn on a lamp. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

surielstea · 1 month ago

Text

Shun the Light

Requested by @dee-writes-smut

Pairing: Helion x Fem!Reader

Summary: Helion has been attempting to get reader into his bed for years now, what happens when she finally gives in?

A. Note: I think this is the longest fic I’ve ever posted so apologies for the wild word count, but also most of this is smut so you’re very welcome ;)

9.6k words.

Sitting in a large, worn leather chair positioned in a secluded corner of the library, I was half-hidden by towering shelves of books. The room was steeped in quiet, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the shelves under their heavy load or the soft turning of a page. The smell of old parchment mingled with the lingering scent of rich mahogany and leather—a sanctuary of knowledge and peace. And yet, even here, there was no escaping the High Lord.

"You've been avoiding me." Helion's voice cut through the tranquil silence with a casual grace, as he rounded one of the shelves that had been sheltering me. His amber eyes gleamed mischievously as he approached, a book tucked under his muscular arm. I highly doubted it was for actual reading.

"And you've been following me," I replied dryly, eyes fixed on my book. The words on the page blurred slightly, my pulse quickening from the mere presence of him.

"This is my personal library," he countered smoothly, leaning against the shelf, his broad frame casting a shadow over me. His proximity was a cage, yet the alcove still felt oddly cozy. "I'd say you're the one hoping to run into me." He gestured at the books surrounding us, a small portion of his vast collection, his smile all too knowing. "Besides, I happen to like reading."

The soft, golden light from a nearby lamp warmed the deep brown of his skin, making him look almost otherworldly as if carved from the light itself. I forced myself to stay calm, sinking deeper into the chair as I replied, "What book is that, then?" My chin jerked toward the novel he held so proudly, though I leaned back, attempting to appear indifferent.

With one of his signature smirks, Helion pulled the book from under his arm, holding it out like a grand reveal. "The Art of Seduction," he mused, his voice dripping with confidence.

"Subtle," I muttered, tossing him a glare before trying to lose myself in my own book again. The pages held nothing for me, not while Helion loomed over me with that look in his eyes. That ever-present challenge.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't leave. "Thought I could brush up on my skills, seeing as you seem so indifferent to my irresistible charm," he chimed, far too pleased with himself as he slid into the chair directly in front of mine, uninvited.

I narrowed my eyes, fighting back the heat rising in my cheeks. "Really? Out of every seat in this library, you choose that one?"

He shrugged, his casual air too relaxed for someone invading my space. "Well, you've stolen my usual one, so I must make do with lesser options." His lips twitched, eyes gleaming with amusement as he cracked open the book he clearly had no intention of reading, propping his feet up on the low table between us.

I stared, incredulous. "They're the same chair."

Helion gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes flashing with humor. "True, but that one smells like me."

I froze for a moment, my fingers going still against the soft leather of the armrest. The faint, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and bergamot swirled around me, and I cursed inwardly. It was familiar, inescapable, and frustratingly warm, like the High Lord himself. My gaze flicked up to his, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely absorbed in his book, a small line forming between his brows as if the words were the most fascinating thing in the world.

I had to stifle a laugh at the sight. I wasn't sure he'd ever actually read a single page of his vast collection, yet there he was, looking like a scholar lost in study.

We fell into a comfortable silence—Helion reading, or pretending to read, and me half-heartedly flipping through my book, both of us mirroring each other, our feet propped up on the table in an unspoken truce. The moment felt oddly peaceful, and for a brief second, I allowed myself to enjoy it.

But, of course, it didn't last.

Only a few moments later, Helion shut his book with a soft thud, and I felt his foot nudge mine from across the table. I resisted the urge to respond, cursing his long limbs and moving my legs out of his reach, but he persisted—sending a glare of sunlight directly into my line of sight, making it nearly impossible to read.

"Would you stop that?" I snapped, lowering my book and glaring at him from beneath my brows. He only grinned, looking far too pleased with himself.

"What book is that?" he asked as if the answer mattered.

I sighed. "Some random one I found on the shelves." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth, either.

"Sunshine," he drawled, his voice like velvet as he leaned forward slightly, "I've read every book in this library. That one, I'm not familiar with."

I ignored him, focusing back on my book, though I wasn't reading a single word. The heat from his gaze felt palpable, like sunlight warming my skin.

"What is it?" he pressed again, his voice dripping with faux curiosity. His fingers twitched, and I braced myself as yet another glare of sunlight angled right into my eyes.

"I'm not telling," I muttered, holding up my forearm to shield my face from the assault.

Helion chuckled softly. "I'm commanding you to tell me, as High Lord," he said, the playful light still dancing at his fingertips.

"Why do you care so much?" I grumbled, slamming my book shut with an exaggerated huff.

He leaned back, eyes never leaving mine. "I wish to know what could possibly be more interesting than me." His smirk widened as if the very thought was inconceivable.

I said nothing, my silence was the only answer I was willing to give.

"How about a bet?" he suggested, the gleam in his eyes unmistakable. "If I can make you smile in the next five minutes, you have to tell me what you're reading."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "And if you lose?"

Helion's smirk softened into something more sincere. "I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."

A tempting offer. I considered it for a moment, imagining a night of uninterrupted reading, free from his constant prattling.

"Deal. Five minutes," I said, returning to my book.

For a while, Helion was silent, the ticking clock in my mind counting down the seconds. But knowing him, he probably believed he didn't need the full-time—that one well-timed sentence would be enough.

"You look adorable with your nose stuffed in a book," he murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was softer now, more intimate, like a confession shared in the quiet of a night.

I rolled my eyes. "That's usually what people do in a library."

Helion's smile widened. "And yet, I find myself much more interested in studying you."

"Why don't you leave me alone and go read your book? Maybe you'll learn how to actually charm me," I shot back, trying to ignore the way his words made my pulse race.

"I could recite poetry and still fall short," he sighed dramatically as if I truly had him beat.

Despite myself, a smile tugged at my lips at the absurdity of it all.

"There it is," he marveled, his voice a soft victory.

My fleeting smile turned into a scowl. "That doesn't count. I was smiling at the thought of you leaving me alone."

Helion laughed. "A smile is a smile." He extended his hand, eyes glinting. "So, show me the book."

I look down to the page I was on—to the very erotic scene playing out that I hadn't even realized was happening, too busy pretending to read when he was talking to me to even realize.

"I—no," I murmur, slamming my book shut.

"We had a deal, so unless you want to have permanent bargain tattoos with me, I suggest you hand it over." He quipped and I frowned at the idea of something so permanent on my body being associated with him.

"Fine," I grumble, holding the book out to him with a string of grumbled curses. He takes the book, his fingers brushing over mine—the touch shooting rays of warmth up my arm. I shake it off and settle back into my chair which smelt so strongly of him.

Helion crosses his ankle over his knee, reclining back in his chair with the casual confidence that seems permanently etched into his being. His long, golden fingers lazily flip over my book, turning it to read the back. I watch as his brow arches and the corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"Reading about me, are we?" His voice breaks the silence, low and teasing, pulling my attention from my own thoughts. His gaze flickers up to mine, gleaming with amusement.

My head tilts in confusion, a frown forming. "It's not about you. How self-centered can you possibly get?" I scoff, reaching for the book with a frustrated hand, but he pulls it just out of reach with an effortless motion.

"A king falling for his emissary?" he continues, ignoring my protest. His fingers tap against the page in emphasis. "Sounds familiar, no?"

His eyes, molten gold in the dim library light, lock with mine, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. My pulse quickens, not from the question itself, but from the look on his face—the playful way he studies me like I'm a puzzle to be solved.

"My book, Helion," I demand, extending my arm towards him, though it feels like a futile gesture. He watches me closely, a cat toying with its prey.

"In a moment." He waves off my request with a casual flick of his hand, settling deeper into the oversized chair that barely manages to hold his broad frame. He opens the book, his eyes landing right on the page marked by my ribbon. My heart stutters in my chest. No, no, no. He's going to read that part. I freeze, eyes wide as I watch his expression for any sign of disgust or, worse, judgment.

But there's nothing. His lips curl into a slow smile, amusement dancing in his gaze. "This is far better than I could have ever imagined," he purrs, a wicked light entering his eyes as he lets the book fall closed and tosses it onto the table between us, entirely unbothered.

"I'm doing a book club with the Valkyries. It wasn't my first choice," I mumble quickly, snatching the book back from the table. My fingers are trembling slightly, and I hope he doesn't notice. The truth is, I was mortified.

Helion, of course, doesn't seem fazed by my embarrassment. "No need to defend yourself. Although," he leans back with a leisurely stretch, his muscles rippling beneath his tunic, "I have an entire shelf of erotica in the back that's much better written. And doesn't use words like 'velvet-wrapped steel.'"

Heat floods my cheeks, a fierce blush creeping up my neck. "Shouldn't you be doing High Lord stuff?" I grumble, trying to deflect, my mortification reaching new heights. "Not pestering me?"

"My court is asleep." He shrugs as if the affairs of his court are a mere inconvenience. "Nothing happens in the Day Court after the sun goes down." He huffs like it's a travesty, though there's a gleam in his eye suggesting he prefers it that way. "Well, nothing for the public eye anyway," he adds with a sultry grin, his eyes darkening, his voice dripping with innuendo.

I roll my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "You still have land to rule. People to govern. They don't disappear just because they're asleep." I remind him, though I can't help but let my gaze flicker to the strong line of his jaw, the way his dimples deepen when he smiles.

"Delegation, my dear," he responds, his tone infuriatingly smug. "The key to any successful leader."

"If only you could delegate your need for constant attention," I shoot back, offering a sweet smile that hides my annoyance.

His shoulders slump in an exaggerated show of disappointment, his hand dramatically pressed to his chest. "Well, that just wouldn't work. There's only one person I want attention from."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, the meaning unmistakable. My heart skips a beat, my pulse fluttering in my throat as I force myself to remain calm. I can feel his gaze roaming over me like he's waiting for me to react. My eyes flick over his form, all lean muscle and rich, sun-kissed skin that practically glows in the warm library light. Everything about him radiates confidence—dangerous, seductive confidence.

"And I'm sure she's flattered," I say dryly, snapping my gaze away from his broad chest. "Too bad she's not here to distract you." I shift in my seat, trying to appear unbothered by the way his eyes are lingering on me, though I feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

Helion tilts his head, watching me with that same predatory amusement, as though he's enjoying a game only he knows the rules to. His forearms rest on his spread thighs, and gods, those thighs. I can't help but glance, at his muscles thick and defined. His deep chuckle pulls my attention back to his face.

"Oh, she's here," he muses, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "She just needs to stop pretending I'm not the most interesting thing in this library."

I open my mouth to respond, to shoot back some biting retort, but I'm momentarily speechless, my heart beating a little too fast. Instead, I huff and bury my nose in the book, determined to ignore him. It's unprofessional. He's the High Lord. And I'm his emissary. Even entertaining the idea of his flirting is toeing a dangerous line. Besides, I know Helion's reputation. I'm not interested in being just another conquest, no matter how much he seems to enjoy teasing me.

But gods, he makes it difficult.

"Stop glaring at that book." His voice breaks into my thoughts again, his tone laced with amusement. "Either you're about to throw it into a fire, or you're thinking about something else entirely."

I glance up at him, eyes narrowing. "I'm thinking about how much quieter it would be in here without you."

"This is a library, you know?" I add, flipping a page in a show of indifference.

"Yes, but this library is only open to the public during the daytime. Except for those permitted access." He reclines even further, his fingers interlacing behind his head as he watches me, that maddening grin still plastered on his face.

"And if someone with clearance is in here with you, disrupting their quiet?" I tilt my head at him, matching his smug expression.

He mirrors the movement. "Everyone with clearance is already here. Not even the librarians can come in after hours."

I blink, my mind catching up with his words. And then it hits me. "I'm the only one with permission, aren't I?" My voice comes out soft, the realization settling in.

"Took you long enough," he grins, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

"And how many women did this trick work on?" I grumble, my suspicion growing, even as my pulse quickens under his gaze.

"Just you," he says, and for once, the cocky smile falters into something more sincere.

I snort in disbelief. "It hasn't worked yet," I retort, though my voice sounds weaker than I'd like.

"Yet?" He arches a brow, his gaze flickering over me, daring me to challenge him.

My lips press into a thin line, and I bury myself back in my book, hiding behind the pages. "Go away, Helion." My voice comes out more of a plea than an order, and I curse myself for how breathless it sounds.

"I don't want you to miss me." His tone is snarky, yet something told me he genuinely believed what he was saying. I force myself not to look at him, to not fall for whatever game he's playing.

"Nonsense," I murmur, my cheeks burning. "I'd be too busy enjoying the peace."

Helion sighs dramatically, though there's a glimmer of laughter in his voice. "I'm not sure you're capable of quiet when I'm around. You always have something to say."

He's right, of course, and that's what infuriates me the most. No matter how much I want to ignore him, I can't. There's something about him that pulls the words right out of me.

"It's called defending myself from your constant attempts at flirting," I snap, though I don't dare look up, knowing he's probably biting back another smile.

"And here I was thinking we were bonding." His voice drops, laced with a dark, rich amusement. I glance up just in time to see him run a hand down his thigh, slow and deliberate, as though daring me to watch.

"This is what you call bonding?" I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the tension in the air almost unbearable. "I call it you trying—and failing—to charm me."

"Oh please," he laughs softly, his smile widening. "You've been charmed by me since the day we met. Don't think I haven't noticed the looks you've been sneaking all night."

His words land like a punch to the gut, and I flush, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. I can't tell if I'm mortified because he caught me or because I was staring at all.

"You think too highly of yourself," I mutter, sinking deeper into the chair as if it could swallow me whole. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered I am.

Helion only leans closer, his voice softening, turning almost serious. "You're the only one who thinks too lowly of me."

The sudden shift in his tone catches me off guard, and for the first time tonight, I meet his gaze fully. There's no teasing, no playful glint. Just him, watching me with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs.

I truly tried to focus on what I was reading, but his lingering gaze on me was going to drive me wild. Somehow that stare spoke louder than any words he could've said. He was offering me the silence I wanted, while simultaneously pushing me to insanity. Surely I couldn't get mad at him for simply observing? Yet here I was, nearly fuming at the way he tracked each of my movements.

Eventually, I grow sick of his ogling, so I snap my book closed and turn to him with narrowed eyes. Stop looking at me like that," I order, pushing myself up from the chair that had all but swallowed me. It's identical to the one Helion has turned into his makeshift throne, yet somehow, he manages to own his space with ease.

"Like what?" He rises with me, and I have to crane my neck just to maintain eye contact. Even that, the way I have to look up at him, feels like some small concession.

I stare at him, his features softened by the glow of the candlelight. His usual smirk is nowhere to be seen, and his golden eyes hold no trace of the lust or amusement I've come to expect from him. Instead, they're filled with something even more dangerous—reverence. He looks at me like I'm more than just a passing amusement, more than just a fleeting fancy. Like I'm something precious.

"Like I'm more than just a game to you," I shake my head, tearing my gaze away. The weight of his stare is too much. I toss the book in my hands onto the coffee table with more force than necessary and stride past him, desperate to escape the suffocating tension of our little alcove. I don't trust myself to stay there, not with him looking at me like that.

"You think this is a game?" His voice follows me as I make my way through the dim, quiet library. It's empty, save for the two of us, but somehow, his presence alone fills every corner.

"Isn't it?" I shoot back, unwilling to turn and face him. The memory of his gaze burns too fresh in my mind. "Your reputation for women precedes you, Helion." The words slip out harsher than I intended. It's a low blow, bringing up his past like this, but I need him to understand why I can't—why I shouldn't.

I expect him to brush it off, but instead, he's beside me in a flash, walking in step as though he belongs at my side. "You think I would chase after a female for three years just for sex?" His voice is surprisingly calm, but there's a thread of frustration woven into it. "I've been rejected before, and I always respect it."

I stop in my tracks, staring up at him with creased brows. "Then what makes me so different?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It's a question I've been avoiding for months, maybe longer. Because deep down, I'm afraid of the answer. I'm afraid of what it might mean—for both of us.

Helion doesn't hesitate. "Because you feel it too." He steps closer, his movements slow, deliberate. The air between us crackles with unspoken tension, and yet I don't move. "This thing between us, you delight in it just as much as I do."

He takes another step forward, closing the distance, and my back hits the bookshelf behind me. Trapped, my breath hitches, but I refuse to show any sign of retreat.

"I'm not going to be another girl you charm for a night and forget by morning," I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. It's a quiet confession, more to myself than to him.

Helion's hand comes up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek with an unbearable tenderness. "I wouldn't forget you," he murmurs, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd.

The proximity is overwhelming now. His warmth radiates off him, pulling me in, and my resolve—what little remains—begins to crumble. My body betrays me, my hands itching to touch him, to feel the strength in the muscles I've tried not to think about for so long.

"Helion,” I murmur, his name a warning, or maybe a plea. I don't even know anymore.

His gaze drops to my lips, his thumb never stopping its gentle, maddening caress. "Tell me, what keeps you from me?" he asks softly, his breath mingling with mine.

My throat tightens, and I remind myself of all the reasons this is a terrible idea. "I would hate myself if I became another one of your conquests." The words come out softer than I intend, laced with the fear I've been trying so hard to suppress.

But Helion doesn't back away. He doesn't laugh or brush it off. Instead, he leans in closer, his voice low and rough. "You're not. And even if you were—with the amount of time I've had to think about you, it'd take months to cross everything I want to do to you off the list." His lips ghost over mine, the barest hint of a touch that sets my skin ablaze.

"Helion," I repeat, the name a broken caution.

"Tell me to stop, I will." He promises, his voice raw with need. He inches closer, only a hairsbreadth away. "Tell me." He whispers, lips ghosting over mine.

I didn't have it in myself to tell him to stop, to even push him away. I wanted this, needed this. I surged upwards and closed the distance between us.

For three years he had been taunting me, teasing me with pretty words and suggestive smiles, and now I was finally giving him what he wanted—and what I have secretly been wanting far longer than he suspects, and it was everything I could've hoped for.

My back pressed harder into the shelf behind me as his chest met mine, while his hands, warm and firm wrapped around my hips, drawing me closer until there was no space between us. My body betrayed my mind, my thoughts warning me to stop, to end this before it was too late, but my hands were running down his muscles chest I've been craving to feel for years, my fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic and pulling him into me, deepening our kiss.

Every touch sent sparks skittering across my skin, and for a moment I allowed myself to drown in him, in the heat of him, his scent, the way he kissed me like he might never get the chance again.

His hands traveled from my hips, beneath my shirt to grip my waist—and the feel of his calloused hands on my bare skin was enough to send me reeling. The kiss grew more frantic, more desperate. His skilled tongue explored every possible inch of my mouth, and I allowed it, reveling in the way he so eagerly tasted me.

When I finally pulled away, breaking our kiss, our breaths coming in ragged gasps I stared up into his dilated pupils, the playful spark I was used to seeing there replaced by something deeper, something that sent both a jolt of fear and excitement through me. He was staring down at me like I was the only thing in the room—hel, like I was the only thing that mattered.

He leans closer, placing an all-too-gentle kiss on the expanse just below my ear. "Helion," I echoed, my fists still clenching his shirt.

"Yeah?" He uttered, his breath hot against my skin as he slowly trailed his lips down my jaw.

"We shouldn't, we can't," I sigh breathlessly, my hand weaving into his hair, tilting my head, allowing him to deepen his kiss.

"Who said?" He murmurs into my skin.

"It isn't professional," I say between breaths, my pulse rapidly fluttering, his tongue flicking over it playfully.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked, pulling away to look me in the eyes and the loss of his contact made something inside me ache.

"I—no, gods no," I profess, my hands wrapping around the back of his neck.

"Then I don't care if it's professional, let me give you what you need," He whispered, his lips brushing mine. "Alright?"

I don't reply, and instead crash his lips onto mine once more, the rest of my defenses crumbling at the action. The kiss was hungrier this time, more demanding. I gave in fully as his tongue found its way into my mouth yet again, my chest arching into his as his hands slipped down to cup the back of my thighs, tapping me twice as a silent command to jump. I did exactly as he wished, wrapping my legs around his torso as he supported me, his touch traveled higher to cradle me by the curve of my ass. He smiled into the kiss, even in the heat of the moment his cocky grin manages to make an appearance.

He pushes off the shelf, blindly guiding us through the shelves and to the center of the empty library, where tables fill the area. He placed me down on the edge of the center table, his hands leaving my backside in favor of exploring new, untouched areas. Heat races through my veins as his hands trailed to the hem of my skirt, slipping beneath it without hesitation, his thumb grazing against the seam of my panties.

"Wait," I pant against his lips and his hand freezes. "Not here," I murmured, pecking his lips softly.

"It's just us in here, remember?" He reassured me when I pulled away, kissing my forehead. "Just us." His lips brush against my skin as he repeats the words and I can feel my resolve slipping. There was no more room for doubt, no more room for fear. All that existed was an overwhelming need to have him, to feel him in every way possible, to lose myself entirely in him until I didn't know where he ended and where I began.

"Just us," I echo, nodding slowly.

"We can stop," He said, despite how clearly he wanted this and was desperate for this.

"No, Helion don't stop," I connect our lips once more, allowing my legs to fall open farther, inviting him.

He forced himself to pull away, to restrain himself from me for just a moment longer. "You're okay with this, then?" He rasped, eyes pure gold.

"Yes," I answered. "Gods, yes." I pulled him into me, his hips meeting mine. His grin turned almost wolfish, primal as he tore through my skirt like it was nothing, discarding the fabric. He pulled me to the very edge of the table, his hands rubbing higher up my thighs, tracing the seam of my panties. I gasped as he pressed two fingers onto my clothed folds, just the right amount of pressure, not enough to get any real gratification from—but gods it still felt good. He smirks against my lips as he feels the damp spot forming on the cloth and I flush in embarrassment.

"I haven't even touched you," He noted aloud, deepening my blush. "Tell me, baby, were you this wet when I was simply talking to you?" He utters between kisses and I fight the urge to sneer at him.

"Do you ever shut up?" I ask, my question genuine. He responds with a searing kiss, which did in fact quiet him.

He couldn't control himself any longer, not with my hands roaming his back, my lips on his. He tore through my undergarments in a similar fashion to my skirt, tossing the wet fabric somewhere unimportant to me. He pulled back from our kiss, and I tugged at his bottom lip to stop him from leaving but he ignored my silent complaint, only to peer down at the apex of my thighs.

He grunted at the sight, his forehead meeting mine as he swiped two fingers through my embarrassingly wet core, his fingers coming back dripping. I throbbed for more, letting out a quiet moan as his thumb came down onto my clit, my head tilted back in ecstasy as he began circling it, his skillful touch setting my skin on fire as his middle finger traced my dripping entrance. I bucked slightly, leaning on my hands behind me as I lifted my hips for more friction.

He chuckled breathlessly, the sound humiliating, while simultaneously making me crave him so much more.

He didn't make me wait long before his own restraint snapped, letting go of that leash he had been gripping so tightly and pushing two of his fingers inside of me.

I moaned at the stretch, louder this time, relishing in the way his calloused fingers scraped against my walls, fitting me around him so perfectly.

He grunted at the sound of my moans, his pace unrelenting as his fingers thrust into me repeatedly, deep and slow. The pressure building inside me had my legs trembling as I spread them wider for him, silently begging for more.

"That's it," he rasped into my open mouth, his voice hoarse with desire. "Doing so well for me." His words were like kindling to the fire already raging in my core, my entire body aching for release. I could barely find the breath to respond, only able to whimper his name.

I bit my lip as he curled his fingers inside me, hitting that sweet spot that had me seeing stars. My eyes squeezed shut, my chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as I tried to hold on, trying not to fall apart too soon, but he didn't seem to like that idea.

His other hand moved up my body, pulling the fabric of my shirt open to expose my breasts. He skillfully unclasped my bra, disposing of it just as he did with the rest of my clothes, leaving me entirely bare. He wasted no time in leaning down and capturing one of my peaked nipples between his teeth. The added sensation had my whole body jerking forward, my fingers tangling in his hair as I gasped.

"Yeah? You like that?" he muttered against my skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I nodded frantically, unable to form words, as his fingers pumped into me with precision, his thumb pressing down on my clit, moving in tight circles that had me trembling on the edge of oblivion.

I was so close, so damn close, but I didn't want it to end just yet. I tugged on his hair, trying to pull him away from my breast, but he didn't budge. If anything, he seemed encouraged by the way my body was reacting to him, his fingers moving faster, his tongue flicking over my nipple with maddening strokes.

"Gods," I moaned, my head tilting back towards the vaulted ceiling, towards the sky and everything beyond, praying for relief, for that sweet, euphoric high. "Helion—m'close," I confess through a whimper, feeling my body reach its ascent.

"You going to beg for it?" He purred, pulling away from my breast, peering up at me.

"What?" I utter, too lost in my pleasure to even wrap my head around the thought.

"Beg for it." He repeats. "Beg for me to let you come." He reiterates, his voice low, sultry. My arousal increases, I must've been dripping into his hand.

"I'm not—fuck," I hiss as he curves his fingers into that sensitive spot, but not enough pressure to push me over the edge, he was toying with me. "Not g'na beg," I murmur, my body betraying me by trembling under his touch.

"No? Still not ready to admit how needy you are for me?" He tutted, seeming almost disappointed. The tone was degrading in itself, enough to send me reeling—but then his fingers were pulling out of me and he had no intention of thrusting them back in.

I gasped, my resolve shattering as I bucked my hips up desperately. "No—no please," I give in, my body aching for him to fill me again. "Helion, please—"

I stare through low-lidded eyes as a smile slowly spreads across his sensuous lips. "Please what? Tell me what you want."

"Wanna come, please I've needed this for so long," My breath hitched, it was hard to dig the words I've kept buried so deep back up, to confess them not only to him but to myself as well. "I've needed you, for so long."

He leans closer, pecking my lips softly, in such a tender way it made me forget about everything else, about what the court might think, about my fear of being just another game to him. It was only us, connected in every way possible.

"There she is," He pulled back from my lips. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He teased between kisses.

"Helion, please, can I?" I whine, the sound so pitiful I barely recognize it as my own.

"Go ahead love, come on my hand." He rasped, and just like that, the world shattered around me. My orgasm tore through me like a storm, my body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. I cried out his name, my hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the corded muscle there as he coaxed me through every second of it, his fingers never stopping, pushing me higher, deeper into bliss.

When I finally came down, my body limp and trembling, he pulled his fingers from me, his eyes dark with lust as he brought them to his lips. He licked them clean, tasting me with a low, satisfied groan that sent another pulse of heat through me.

"You taste better than I imagined," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, making me shiver despite the warmth still radiating from my core.

But before I could catch my breath, he was already pulling off his clothes, his eyes locked on mine with a hunger that made my heart race all over again.

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" he asked, his grin returning as he tugged his pants down, his hardened cock springing free. My eyes widened at the sight, and for a second I debated if he'd even fit.

"Now," he whispered, guiding me off the table so I could plant my feet solidly on the ground. His voice sent a thrill down my spine as he said, "Be a good girl and bend over the table f'me, yeah?"

I slowly turned my back to him, my legs shaky from the intense pleasure still coursing through me, his hands never left my body. They trailed down my sides, strong and possessive, igniting embers of anticipation in their wake. His touch alone had me quivering, but the look in his eyes—dark, feral—made my pulse quicken.

I bent over the table as instructed, the cool wood pressing against my flushed skin. The vulnerable position made my blood heat, but excitement flared deep inside me, mixing with the lingering ache of desire. His breath was hot against my ear as he leaned over me, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck.

"That's it, baby," he purred, his fingers trailing teasingly down my spine before settling on my hips, pinning them in place. "So eager to please."

I could hear the sound of his breath hitching, and feel the tension in the air as he lined himself up behind me, his tip nudging at my entrance. I bit my lip, expectancy tightening my body.

He pushed forward slowly, torturously so, letting me feel every inch as he stretched me. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips, and my own whimper joined it, the sensation overwhelming, leaving no room for thought, only the feeling of him filling me completely.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, hands gripping my hips tighter. "So, so tight." His voice sent a wave of need through me, the table was too long for me to find any leverage, I was left stranded between the polished wood and his broad chest, unable to steady myself.

With an impatient, sharp snap of his hips, he pushed into me deeper, granting a gasp from my lips. The suddenness of it sent a shudder through me, pleasure curling through my body in response. He leaned over me again, his mouth grazing my ear. "You feel so good," he rasped, his voice a mixture of lust and satisfaction as he began to move, each thrust deep and slow, drawing out every bit of sensation until I was trembling beneath him.

I couldn't help the moans that slipped past my lips as he built a rhythm, each movement of his hips driving me higher, closer to the edge once again. My back bowed, pressing into his chest and deepening the angle of him, the sensation eliciting a noiseless scream from me.

His hands tightened on my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me back to meet each of his thrusts. Every movement was deliberate, slow but devastatingly deep, as though he wanted me to feel every inch of him, to memorize the way he stretched me, and filled me so completely. The pressure was maddening, making my body tremble beneath him, a delicious torment that left me teetering on the edge but not quite enough to tip over.

His pace quickened, the drag of him inside me was almost too much to bear, and yet not enough all at once. His hands were gripping me so tightly I was sure there would be bruises by morning, but the thought only made me hotter, the idea of his marks on me driving me wild.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, each slap punctuated by our ragged breaths. My nails dug into the table's edge, desperate for something to anchor myself to, but every time I thought I could catch my breath, he would change the angle just slightly, hitting that spot deep inside me that sent white-hot pleasure shooting through my veins.

"You sound so perfect moaning my name," He murmured beside my ear. "So fucking perfect for me." His words sent a shiver down my spine, a molten heat spreading through my core. My body was caught in the rhythm he set, each thrust rocking me against the wood of the table, it creaked beneath us, but it was his ragged breaths and the low, guttural sounds he made that had my heart racing, my need climbing higher and higher.

He shifted his grip, one hand moving from my hip to slide up my spine, tracing a line of fire until it fisted into my hair, pulling my head back just enough for his lips to make contact with the most sensitive spot on my neck, sucking on the area hard. "I want to hear you," he demanded, voice low and rough against my throat. "I want to hear you fall apart for me."

I moaned loudly in response, the sound raw, desperate, as his hand tugged harder, pulling my back into a deeper arch. My entire body was taut, every nerve lit up under his command. His other hand slid around to my front, fingers finding the aching bundle of nerves between my legs, circling it with relentless precision.

The duel stimulation nearly broke me. My body jerked beneath him, every muscle tightening as I fought to hold back, but it was a losing battle. The pressure was building again, faster this time, harder, threatening to unravel me completely.

"That's it," he murmured, his fingers speeding up in sync with his thrusts. "I can feel you, baby. You're close, aren't you? So close to coming all over my cock."

I was. I was so desperate, I could hardly think, my mind a haze of nothing but him—his voice, his hands, his cock twitching inside me. My breaths came out in shallow gasps, each one forced from me by the sensation of his fingers working me toward the brink.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice like gravel, rough and impatient. "Let go."

I shattered around him. My body tensed as the orgasm ripped through me, pleasure crashing down in waves so intense it left me trembling and breathless. I cried out, the sound broken and uninhibited, my walls clenching tightly around him as I came harder than I thought possible.

He groaned in response, feeling my pulse around him, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. His thrusts grew erratic, rougher, until finally, with a deep, guttural moan, he followed me over the edge, spilling into me with a few last powerful thrusts that left us both gasping for breath.

For a moment, we stayed like that, bodies entwined, both of us panting and spent. His hands, once gripping me with unrelenting force, now softened, running soothingly over my hips and sides. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and I shivered, still coming down from the high, my legs weak and trembling.

Ever so slowly he pulled out of me, his warm hands guiding me upright. I trembled, my arms shaking as I used them to hold myself up. I leaned against the table as I turned around to face him, my cheeks flushed with exertion, my entire body heated with stimulation.

"Feeling alright?" He asks, his voice so gentle in contrast to his earlier roughness. I nod slowly, gripping the edge of the table behind me for support.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, nearly lovingly, then cups my cheek. I allow myself to lean into the touch, turning my head to place a soft kiss on his palm.

Something in his eyes changed then, something deeper than lust or need, and before I could stop myself I was wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck and slotting my mouth over his yet again.

My legs trembled as he kissed me, savored me so thoroughly like he'd never get sick of the taste. He noticed my unsteady stance and hoisted me back up onto the table, guiding me to lay down, sprawled for him.

The table creaked when he leaned on it and I grabbed his wrist, halting him. "The table won't hold both of us," I say breathlessly, especially not if he was going to push into me as rough as he was earlier.

"Then we'll move to the floor when it snaps." He smirks, crawling over me despite my warning, and I can't help but allow a feeling of excitement and arousal to flicker through me at the promise of his words.

He hovers over me, his hands beside my head as he hardens again, at just the sight of me, the thought of me bare beneath him, legs spread for his entrance. His sultry smirk widens as his tip brushes against my core. "Helion," I whimper, his name on my lips a prayer on its own. "Need you," I beg, my words no longer my own as eagerness for pleasure consumed me.

His gaze darkened, the hunger in his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. He lowered his mouth to my neck, his lips grazing my skin in a teasingly slow path. "Say it again," he murmured, voice hoarse with need, the warmth of his breath making my pulse race beneath him.

I swallowed, my hands gripping his biceps as my chest rose and fell in shallow, desperate breaths. "Please," I whispered, tilting my head to give him better access, my body trembling with anticipation. "Please, Helion. I need you."

A groan escaped his throat, primal and possessive. He didn't make me wait any longer. With one swift, powerful thrust, he pushed into me, the sound of my gasp mingling with his low growl as he filled me completely. The table creaked louder beneath us, and I could feel its instability, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Helion moved with a steady, deep rhythm at first, his hips rolling as he gripped my waist with one hand, the other bracing himself beside my head. "You're perfect like this," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Desperate and moaning my name."

I could only whine in response, the delicious friction building inside me, pushing me closer to the edge with every thrust. He quickened his pace, the intensity rising, and I arched into him, wrapping my legs around his hips, desperate for more of him, all of him. The tension coiled tighter within me, the sound of our bodies colliding and the ragged breaths filling the room.

"Helion," My voice was barely a whisper, swallowed by the pleasure that rippled through me. His name left my lips again in a breathy plea, barely heard below the splintering of the table, and with another powerful thrust, one leg of the table snapped. He gathered me in his arms before we could go crashing, High Lord strength holding me upright, all while still nestled inside of me.

I was too focused on how good he was making me feel to think about the change of positions, too focused on how he was lifting me up and down on his cock, the quick pace making me release a string of needs.

He dropped to his knees, kneeling down and placing me on the carpeted floor, just as he promised.

He didn't relent in his thrusting despite the altering of position, he fucked me right through it, overwhelmed me with intense pleasure so I barely noticed it as well.

"So perfect, like you were made for me," he breathed, his voice thick with lust as he thrust deeper, each stroke igniting another wave of pleasure that threatened to drown me. I could feel every muscle in my body tensing, arching to meet him, lost in the rhythm he set.

I whimpered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as if I could merge our bodies even more completely. "Helion, please," I begged, the words spilling from my lips unbidden. "Don't stop. I'm so close."

His response was a low growl, and he quickened his pace, driving deeper, harder, as he captured my mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue tangled with mine, his lips moving against mine as if he were trying to devour me whole. I could feel the way he was losing himself too, the need in his movements matching the frantic beating of my heart.

The carpet shifted beneath us— and I realized we no longer lay against the floor, but a soft mattress. Somewhere during our heated kiss he had winnowed us into what I assume was his bedroom, the sounds of our bodies slapping together echoing off the walls. Helion's hands gripped my hips, guiding me as he thrust up into me, his movements unrelenting. Each thrust built until I was teetering on the edge of release.

"Just a little more," he encouraged, his breath hot against my ear. "I can feel you tightening around me. Let go, love." The endearment sent a thrill through me, urging me closer to the precipice.

"Helion!" I gasped, feeling the coil within me tighten to its breaking point. I surrendered completely, my body instinctively arching and clenching around him as I felt the wave crash over me. My orgasm hit with blinding force, washing over me in intense ripples of pleasure as I cried out, my body trembling in response.

He followed me over the edge, his own release spilling forth as he growled my name, the sound mingling with the rush of my own pleasure. Helion thrust a few more times, riding out both our climaxes, our bodies perfectly attuned to one another.

He finally pulled out of me, flipping down onto the mattress beside me. I rested my head against his shoulder, his hand slipped into mine, our fingers intertwining, feeling blissfully content, the world around us fading into the background as I savored the afterglow.

After a few moments, I giggled softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I can't believe we broke a table."

He chucked breathlessly, the warm sound making a feeling bloom in my chest. "It never stood a chance," He replied.

"Literally," I added, eliciting another quiet laugh from him.

I turned onto my side, wrapping an arm around his bare torso, furrowing into his warmth.

I lay still, the warmth of his body fading as he pulled away, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. My heart raced with a mix of confusion and irritation as I watched him slip into his pants. "I thought I wasn't another conquest?" I muttered, my voice laced with hurt as I searched his eyes for the truth.

Helion paused, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. "You're not," he said, the sincerity in his tone softening the edges of my anger. But then I narrowed my eyes, my glare unwavering.

"Then where are you going?" I pressed, the question heavy on my heart.

A playful smile tugged at his lips, clearly amused by my reaction. "Would you have a little faith in me? I'm getting a cloth to clean you up," he reassured, turning toward the basin beside the window. I watched him wet a cloth, wringing it out with careful precision before making his way back to the bed.

My glare faltered, replaced by a rush of embarrassment as he returned to my side, settling beside me, I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and my breath hitched slightly at the intimacy of the moment. Helion gently dragged the damp cloth between my legs, his movements deliberate and tender, and I couldn't help but squirm under his touch.

"Helion," I murmured, feeling a rush of warmth flood my cheeks as he meticulously cleaned me. The sensation was both intimate and oddly soothing, and I found it hard to maintain my earlier annoyance. His focus was unwavering, his eyes intent on his task, and I couldn't help but appreciate how he handled me with such care.

"Relax," he said softly, glancing up at me as he continued his work. "I promise I'm not going anywhere." His gaze held mine, and I could see the genuine warmth and affection there, a stark contrast to the teasing persona he often wore.

I took a deep breath, the tension in my body slowly dissipating as I let his calm wash over me. "Okay," I finally replied, my voice barely above a whisper. I settled back against the pillows, allowing myself to enjoy this unexpected moment of intimacy. Helion finished cleaning me, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary, sending shivers of pleasure through me.

"There," he said, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he tossed the cloth aside. "All clean."

I watch him discard the cloth in the laundry bin with casual grace as if he didn't just alter my entire perception of him. He moved into bed beside me, the mattress dipping with his weight. "You okay, love?" He murmured, tucking me into his carved chest. Again, with that nickname that sent a flutter through me, an endearing sensation I couldn't quite put into words.

I swallowed thickly, nodding as I sunk into his warmth, the kind comparable to the rays of the sun. "Mhm, just tired," I uttered.

"Rest, I'll be here in the morning," He murmured, his hand running down the length of my arm, tracing delicate patterns on my skin. I felt every gentle stroke like a whisper, a promise that anchored me to this newfound connection.

As I settled deeper into his embrace, the world outside faded away, and the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat became the lullaby that lulled me into sleep, a well-earned and deep one, his warmth cradling me into a blissful slumber.

I awoke at first light, my eyes fluttering open to the uncovered windows—the day court being worshippers of the sun, curtains were unheard of here, which made for a rough morning. But something about this morning, with the sun kissing my skin the way Helion had last night, it wasn't so bad.

I flip over, my back to the sun and my front to, perhaps something warmer.

He was awake, already staring at me with a slight smile on his lips. "Good morning," He whispered, his voice deepened by sleep.

"I suppose this is when I take my leave?" I murmur, but don't make any movement to leave. I didn't want to, I wanted to bathe in his sunlight for a little while longer.

He reaches over, his large hand spanning my waist and pulling me closer, encasing me into his broad shoulders and carved chest. "No, my dear, you're not going anywhere." He reassures, looking down at me with a darkened gaze, our foreheads pressed together and his nose brushing mine.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I feign annoyance, rolling my eyes.

He lets out a breathless laugh, leaning down into my neck and pressing his lips into the collection of marks he had left only last night. "You've no idea." He mumbled and I groaned playfully, grumbling a curse.

"Still pretending like you haven't completely fallen for me?" He prodded, the tip of his nose running up my neck.

"I didn't say that," I murmur, running a hand through his hair.

"So you have, fallen for me?" He teased, pulling away from my throat to peer up at me.

"Helion," I whine, my bottom lip protruding as I meet his gaze. "I can't stay here all day, now can I?"

"Who says you can't? The Day Court has no rules against me lounging in bed with beautiful women," He purred. "I've made sure of it." He added with a wink and I rolled my eyes.

"That doesn't sound like a very productive court," I remark, a smile pulling at my lips as I feel our usual banter slide back into place.

He hummed in thought, adjusting out position so his hips were between my legs, his arms wrapped around my waist, and his head on my chest. "Depends on what you consider productive." He mumbled into the cleavage of my breasts.

I scoffed, pulling at his hair and guiding him away from my chest. "You're insatiable," I grumble.

"You love it." He says with an all too confident wink.

"Maybe." I sigh, gripping his shoulder and flipping us over. "But what would your court say if they found out you were bedding your emissary?" I frown at the thought alone.

"I'm their High Lord, they can't say anything unless they wanted their tongues taken—" He suggests, while helping me into a more comfortable position, my head beside his on the pillow, our legs intertwined, my chest pressed against his. "Though I doubt any of them would say a word about you." He reassures, his hand coming to my jaw. "That is unless you wanted them to talk? If so I'd be happy to tell them the events of last night." He smirks and my cheeks glow red, heated beneath his touch.

"Modesty is one of your many virtues I see," I murmur, attempting to ignore my fluttering heartbeat.

"Of course." He gives me a look as if it was a well-known fact. "I'm the very picture of restraint and humility." He quips and I giggle, the sound making his breathing stall for a moment.

His gaze flickers down to mine, his brows slightly creased in conflict. "Stay." He whispered, leaning closer and pecking a kiss on my forehead. "Just a little longer." He added, his lips brushing about my skin.

I sighed, any lingering resolve melting away under his touch. "Just a little longer," I agreed, closing the distance between us as his lips met mine, slow and unhurried, as if the rest of the world could wait.

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naomis-daydream · 2 years ago

Text

the panther’s prey // shuri udaku

summary: an argument has you questioning your relationship with shuri. due to your uncertainty and her duties as black panther, it’s been nearly two weeks since you two have spoken, but the Panther must make it known that she will not be ignored.

warnings: predator/prey aspects, oral and strap-on (reader receiving bc shuri’s a munch), scissoring, overstimulation, praise, and degradation if you squint.

a/n: i was gonna publish fluff…idk how we got here. again, i’m still new to writing smut so please be gentle. started as a short idea, lord this took so long to finish so show her love!

translations: ewe - yes, sana/sthandwa- baby, nkosazana- princess.

✧

The soft patter of the rain meeting your living room window matched with the low lighting from numerous lamps completed the relaxed ambiance of your apartment.

You were sitting on your couch, eyes glued to your laptop as your fingers typed almost subconsciously against the keys. You were trying to finish some notes so you could actually enjoy your weekend, wanting to spend your Friday night doing something other than work, but alas, here you were.

You took a sip of your tea, the liquid sending a comforting warmth down your throat. As you set the mug down on a coaster, turning back to your work, a rustle coming from your balcony causes you to jump slightly.

You sighed, hand over your heart to relax your nerves. You’d been really anxious since the attack on Wakanda, and though it’s been over a year since it’s occurrence, even the slightest thing out of the ordinary sparked caution.

You chalk it up to the winds, the Wakandan breeze having been particularly strong in recent weeks. When you attempt to go back to your work, another noise, closer, draws your eyes back to the door.

You lived on the fifth floor of your complex, so your suspicions about someone creeping along your deck weren��t too high. Nonetheless, you rose from your curled position slowly, inching towards the door. You flick the switch to turn on the balcony light, peeking through the shades. Seeing as no one a visibly outside, you sigh deeply before swinging it open, just to make sure. You quickly scan the area, your heart rate relaxing when you’re met with nothing but your outdoor furniture and a light breeze flowing through your hair.

You shut the door, locking it behind you before turning around. The small sense of security you regained left in a mere second when you’re met with a suit-clad figure standing a few yards away from you by the couch.

You jump back, hitting the door slightly with a hand on your chest as you gasp. One would think this reaction would warrant an explanation, a response, something from the woman across from you, yet she stood still, her gaze still felt underneath the metallic mask.

“Shuri,” you breathed, eyes widened in surprise.

The taller girl lifted her chin in acknowledgment, eyes still peering into you. You both stood there for a beat, seemingly waiting on the other to say something. Once you realized the small tilt of her head was the only response she’d give you, another set of words stumbled out of you.

“What are you…H-how did you-?” you uttered, looking from the door back to her frame.

Silence. Again.

The slight fear in your tone from her unannounced visit didn’t go unnoticed by her majesty. You exhale deeply, the frustration from her wordlessness causing you to drag a hand down your face.

“Look, you can’t just break in here and…”

“I’m not breaking anything.” she says finally, voice low and deep.

You scoff shortly. “Oh, so she speaks.”

The static between you two returns once more as you stand stoically waiting for a response. Again, you’re the one to break it. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to go ghost—well kinda, but I just…needed to think things through myself. Figure out what I want, what I need.”

“And it took you two weeks to figure out if I’m a want or a need?” She asked, retracting her helmet while taking a two steps towards you.

“That’s not what I meant, you know that.” you reply while shaking your head. “But that doesn’t warrant you showing up like this. If you wanted to talk, why not use your beads like a sane person?”

“Who said I came here talk?”

Your mouth closes as you swallow under her gaze, choosing to look at your kitchen cabinets rather that her hypnotizing eyes. “If you think you’re gonna seduce me after practically ignoring me for weeks, and not even reaching out to me when I left, you’re mistaken,” you reply, turning your head back to her.

“That’s what this is about?” She cocks her head to the right slightly, continuing to stalk closer, “I don’t give you enough attention, so you run away, knowing I’d follow?”

The roll of your eyes brings a smirk to her lips as she watches you fold your arms across your midriff, seemingly putting a barrier between yourself and her.

“Though you always loved the chase, didn’t you?”

You keep your eyes locked with hers as she continues, walking towards your hallway. “Let’s see if you enjoy running this time.”

That’s the last thing she said before her frame disappeared into your hallway, leaving you open-mouthed and alone in your living room as you contemplated what the hell she was doing.

“Shuri, I’m not playing these games,” you shouted, voice echoing in the absence of her response.

Your voice is the only one heard as you walk through the hallway, passing the threshold of the room she undeniably went to.

“Seriously, Shuri, stop messing around.” You call, walking to the center of the room, standing in front of your bed while looking around.

“But we haven’t had any fun yet, sana,” she whispers in your ear, causing you to jump for what seems like the fifth time tonight as she emerges soundlessly behind you.

You whip your body to face her, backing up slightly when your lips almost touch. She smiled feverishly, obviously amused by her antics and the reactions they draw out of you.

“Stop doing that.” You push at her shoulders. “If you’re just here to toy with me, you can go back to your precious lab.”

Your words make her step closer, you step back as she speaks. “Oh, I haven’t even began to toy with you, my love.”

Your brows furrow as she continues, her words matching her actions, strong and tantalizing. “You know what I think?” she begins, “I think you want me to stay.”

Your breath hitches as you step back further, the back of your knees buckling as they hit the bed’s edge.

“I think you want me to make up for the all attention I’ve been so neglectful in giving to you.” Shuri says lowly, voice soft yet stern as she rests her hands on either side of you. “Hm?”

This time, it was you who was silent, choosing to scan her face rather than utter a no doubt shaky reply. Her eyes were dark and inviting, irises so warm and enticing that it drew you into her, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her lips were parted as her warm breath tickled your skin, making you shiver. Shuri smiles as she studies you, the way you watch her every move. The sinful glint in her eyes only grows as she lowers herself in front of you, knees connecting with the wooden floor.

She sighs in feigned indifference. “You know, I’ve always known your body better than you do,” she begins, massaging your thighs intently. “As much as you attempt to be dishonest with me, she can’t,” she breathes, eyes dropping to your core.

The thumping in your chest is so apparent you feel it in your ears, embarrassment clouding your thoughts as you’re sure she senses it too.

The panther chuckles at your state, your racing heartbeat only amplifying her hunger to claim you as hers. She wants to take her time, to go slow, make you feel every inch of her desire for you, but she couldn’t fight the primal urge to absolutely ruin you.

She flexes her right hand, her claws emerging from her suit with a sharp noise. A gasp escapes as she leans over you, prompting you to lay down. Shuri props herself up with one hand beside your torso, the other dragging lightly over your leggings with enough force that the cool metal is felt against your skin, but not puncturing.

She kisses your collarbone gently, words breathed into your skin as she speaks. “We have a little disagreement, and you leave me. Running away like a child.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips as you feel the claw of her index finger disrupt the seam on the side of your leg, running down from your hip to your ankle, the noise filling the room. She continues to mark you, nipping and sucking at your neck as she speaks.

“You think you’d find someone else to spoil you like I do, nkosazana, hm? Is that what it is?” she continues, repeating her previous action on your other leg. “I fail to attend to you for a few days and you go to find someone new?”

Your quickened breaths are the only response she gets from you, much to her dismay. “So quiet now, my love,” She taunts, standing to pull the ripped leggings off your body. “Let’s fix that, yeah?”

Your body ached for her, you’re sure she could tell by the way you lifted your hips to help remove the pesky fabric, even more so by the visible wet patch on the crotch of your underwear.

Laughter vibrates through the young monarch. She could tell you want her just as much as she wants you, but she still senses the hesitance in your obedience. Usually by now, you’d be begging her to touch you, and though your reaction was slightly unexpected, Shuri had a plethora of ways of opening you up.

You hold eye contact with her as she lowers to a kneel once more, retracting her claws before pulling your thighs to the bed’s edge as she smiles up at you.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. You knew it was inevitable that Shuri would come to you, look at you with those pretty little eyes, say those pretty little words that’d make you fall back in her embrace with little fight. You hoped it’d be different this time, that you’d get her to admit her wrongs before getting her in your pants, put up a little fight, just to show you could. Though the willpower you thought you had was clearly terrible as she hooks two fingers around your panties and pulls them down your silky legs.

“Fuck, sthandwa,” she breaths, taking in your soaked cunt. “All this for me?”

You don’t respond, a pitiful attempt at holding on to the little control you had over her—denying her your praise. Shuri noticed the chokehold your grip had on the sheets, wrinkling the fabric as to resist touching her.

Her finger trails lightly down your slit, brushing over your clit as a soft whimper leaves your throat. “There she is,” the panther purrs, locking your thighs in the crook of her elbows.

Shuri kisses up your thighs, stoping ever so often to nip at the pillowy skin. “You gonna stop fighting me, love? Let me give this pussy the attention she deserves?”

Her words make the pounding at your core intensify, aching to be taken care of. Like she heard your body’s monologue, she licked a long stripe up your entrance, eliciting a sharp inhale from you as she licked her lips at the taste.

Progress.

“I know you’re mad at me,” she begins, looking up at you with feigned innocent eyes, “but why punish her for my actions? Let me make it up to you both.”

You sigh hazily at her words, her mouth so close to where you needed her. Though you knew she wouldn’t continue unless you said it, gave her the satisfaction of verbalizing your need for her.

“Say it.” She whispers. “Say it and I’ll give you everything you desire, everything I have…I just need to hear you say it.”

“Panther…” you whisper. “Take me.”

That’s all she needs to lower her head to the heaven between your thighs. She swirls her tongue around your clit, moaning as she sucks gently.

“Bast!” you cry, throwing your head back with eyes glued shut.

Any attempt at hiding your need for her was long gone now. Shuri flicked her tongue rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves, admiring the way your legs clamped over her ears as she did.

This did little to stop the avenger, she simply pried your legs open, fingers digging into your flesh as you continued to writhe on the sheets.

“Shuri,” you whined, her name dragging over your lips.

“Yes, my love?” She mutters, kitten-kissing your clit. “P-Please, don’t s-stop.” you begged.

She opens her eyes to look up at you, scratching your hip to make you reciprocate.

“You’re going to regret indulging me, sweet girl.”

You barely sputter out a reply as Shuri drives her tongue into your drenched hole, curling it upwards as if she’s searching inside you, twisting the muscle to find that familiar spot that made you fall apart every time.

“Gods, baby, right there! Keep it right there!” You utter, releasing your grip on the sheets and replacing your grasp onto Shuri’s curls.

She leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your entrance before sticking her tongue out as your hips grind onto her.

That’s it, use me.

Your pants sped up, aligning with your hips as you fuck yourself on her face. You’re close, you both know it, from the way your legs are trembling over her shoulders to the pulsing of your pussy that leaked onto her chin.

“Yes, fuck! Shuri! Shuri!” You chanted, nearly prayer-like had it not been falling from such sinful lips.

Her name continued to vibrate off the walls when your release erupted through you, your body shaking as you rode it out.

The queen lapped up your essence, sucking every drop that threatened to fall from your center as she groaned at the taste. “Such a good fucking girl.”

You exhaled contently, beginning to sit up before a strong hand pushes your torso back down. Her name didn’t leave your tongue before hers was back on you, humming at the way your center throbbed at the stimulation.

Despite pushing her head away, you moaned, the lines of too much and too good blurring. “M-my love, please. Just wa-ait-” you stuttered, looking down to her.

Your words were cut off as she grabbed your wrists, pinning them on either side of your hips as she looked up to you with hallowed cheeks, sucking harshly.

Another strangled moan rips through your throat as your hands balls in fists, fighting a losing battle of breaking free from your highness’ hold.

“I can’t,” you say, eyes watering as she moves one hand off your wrist to push two fingers inside you with little resistance.

Finally, she pulls her mouth off you. “Aw, you gonna cry for me, pretty? Give me those cute little tears to match the way your pussy’s sobbing for me?” she smirks, pumping her lanky fingers steadily in and out of you.

“Fuck!” You sob, a tear rolling down your plump cheek as you feel that familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach.

“You gonna cum for me, Y/n?” she asks lowly.

“Yes!”

“Give it to me. Please, let me have it.” She begs, licking her lips while she curls her fingers up.

You practically yell incoherently as she guides you through your orgasm, a mix of moans and curses fill the air as you come down from your high.

A sigh leaves you as she slowly pulls her fingers out, you smile softly as she stands, lifting them to your mouth. You enclose your lips around her while holding her gaze, groaning at the taste of yourself while swirling your tongue between her fingers as she removes them, a line of spit trailing close behind.

Shuri’s eyes darken at the sight of you; locs messily splayed against the bed, eyes puffy and slightly red, neck full of marks of varying size and color no doubt worsening by the minute.

You looked absolutely beautiful.

She leans down to trap you in an intoxicating kiss, brushing her tongue against yours while cradling your face. Your lips dance with one another, going from slow and gentle, to quick and desperate.

She pulls back, chuckling as you chase her touch, to stand. You watch intently as her suit retracts into the toothed necklace laying fiercely against her neckline. You prop yourself up on your elbows as she removes her sports bra and underwear, dragging the undergarment teasingly down her leg.

Any hopes you had at ending at a mere two rounds died as her lustful gaze held you in place, unable to move as she stalked toward the bed.

She crawled beside you, laying on her side as you turned to face her. The two of you admire one another for a moment, the dips, curves, and everything in between on each others’ body. Shuri lifted two fingers to trail up your leg, eyes following as her touch tickled you.

She enjoyed watching you squirm, knowing it was her who made you this way. That’s precisely why she smiled as her fingertips grazed your shoulder, falling in the valley between your breasts. She could feel you shudder as her thumb tweaked your nipple. Your eyes remained on her face as you watched her play with you. It was common during sex with Shuri, she would often get lost in the action of touching you, seeing reactions she could get.

She treated you like a toy, meant to be played with and enjoyed for her own fulfillment, and you fucking loved it.

She reaches to flick your other nipple as she kissed you, soft and sweet, contrary to her movements. You moan in her mouth, relaxing into her touch. She places a hand on the back of neck as she rolls onto her back, wrapping a leg around your waist.

Your head drops into the crook of her neck as your feel your pussy brush hers. You roll your hips onto hers, rubbing your clits against one another.

Shuri groans, biting her lower lip as she matches your rhythm. She was so wet from eating you out, poor thing was rubbing her thighs together to ease the pressure growing inside her as she pleased you.

Your hand is above her head, holding you steady as you rock your hips together, the sloshing of your arousals mixing making you cry out as your third orgasm approached quickly.

“Shit, you feel so good,” she breaths, breasts rising and falling rapidly as she keeps your pace. Her hand reaches for yours above her, intertwining your fingers. She squeezes your palm with each connection of your hips. “I’m close, usana, so close.”

You both loved this position. It was one of the few with you on top, in control. It was more intimate than others because you both were so close, nothing else but each other making one feel this way. Panther and pantheress, holding each other until it became too much, picking up the pieces of one another just to chase the high all over again.

You grabbed the back of her knee that was previously around your waist, bringing it to lay on your shoulder as you rolled your pussy harder onto hers.

“Nnghh-baby, right there. You’re so fucking good to me. Ewe! Don’t stop.” She cried, hips nearly rising off the mattress in attempt to get closer. You bent down, connecting your foreheads as you breathed in one another, chasing that euphoric feeling creeping closely in the both of you.

“Cum with me, my queen,” you begged. “Cum all over this pussy!”

She rocked her hips up onto yours, groaning loudly as her body shook against yours. You came shortly after, collapsing on top of her as you both breathed heavily. She kisses your shoulder gently, muttering sweet nothings into your skin.

Though it took longer for you, your breathing slowed, heart rate returning to normal. Shuri sensed this, taking the moment to address the elephant in the room.

“So,” she uttered, hands resting on the curve of your ass. “I am forgiven?”

The slight uncertainty in her tone makes you giggle as you sit up slightly to see her face. You take in her features, while fucked-out, you could see the sincerity in her eyes. “Yeah,” you say after a beat, “I forgive you.”

Her smile makes your heart melt, the apples of her cheeks rising as she begins to speak before you cut her off with a finger raised. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.” You start, seeing her smile lessen.

“You can’t just shut me out for weeks, flake on our dates, and barely acknowledge me, then come over and and do this,” you gesture towards your sweating, naked forms.

“I need you to let me back in, talk to me, let me know what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.” she nods softly as you speak.

“I am truly sorry, my love. There’s no explanation that justifies my actions. I just…I got scared.” she admits, closing her eyes.

“Scared of what, Shuri?” you ask, tilting your head in attempt to get the girl to met your gaze. Once she does, you sense the hesitance in her movements. “If I don’t know, I can’t help, Ri.” She sighs, opening her eyes to meet yours—kind and curious as the day she met you.

“I-I just can’t shake the thought that one day you’ll leave me,” she begins, continuing when she sees your confused expression. “That you’ll find someone else to treat you the way you deserve, that you’ll realize I’m just this…broken girl who’s heart you can’t fix.”

“Hey,” you bring one of her hands to your lips, kissing her knuckles. “You are not broken, and you damn sure don’t need to be fixed. You’re human, despite having the strength of the Black Panther,” you teased, earning a light chuckle. “You’re not perfect, nor do I expect you to be. What I do expect, is for you to trust me, to communicate with me, to let me take the load off.”

Her brows raised at your statement’s implications, a smile growing on her face. Heat rises to your cheeks as you hit her shoulder lightly. “Stop! That’s not what I meant,” you say, fighting the smile rising on your features.

“That said,” you continue, “I’m glad you came over.”

“Really? I was getting the feeling you wanted me gone when you started screaming ‘Shuri! Shuri!’” she mocked, earning another smack on the shoulder.

“Ow! Hit me again, woman. See how much of a load you can take,” she warned.

You smiled sinisterly as you hopped off the bed, walking towards the bathroom. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Panther,” you smiled over your shoulder.

You heard her chuckle behind you as the bed creaked, her footsteps trailing close behind you and the door clicked shut.

The bath you had ran was sure to be freezing by now, long abandoned by it’s owners who were meant to be “saving water.”

Somewhere between you running the bath water and Shuri getting fresh towels led to you ending up bent over the countertop with her strap eight inches deep inside your cunt.

You didn’t even see her get the damn thing, much less put on the harness. You would’ve figured her sex drive was fulfilled by now, but as you leaned over to check the running water, you felt her wrap her arms around you, pushing you onto the nearest surface as she slipped inside. The panther was indeed still on the prowl.

“Look at yourself, see how good you look? How good we look? How could I ever think you were made to take anyone else but me, hm?”

Her questions feel upon seemingly deaf ears, because all you could focus on was the feeling of her. How right she was. How right it feels when she’s inside you, mercilessly pushing her hips into yours so hard you felt her everywhere.

The pain of your hips meeting the cold, hard countertop mixed with the pleasure of her dick repeatedly hitting that numbing spot began to be too much. Coupled with the overstimulation from previous orgasms, you were on the verge of cumming in minutes.

Shuri noticed this too. She look down to see where she disappeared and reappeared inside you, noticing the clench of your walls around her as well as the thick ring of your arousal coating her strap. She smirked, knowing you were close. She changed her action from bringing her hips to yours to harshly bringing your ass to meet her cock, reaching impossibly deeper inside you.

You let out a guttural moan, now uncaring and unashamed of anyone who might hear you, making the woman smile. This was the panther’s pussy, and she wanted your entire complex to know.

“Shuri, please!” You nearly screamed.

“Please what, sthandwa sami? What do you want?” she says breathlessly, her own release building as well.

“Please don’t stop.”

“Tell me. Tell me who does this pussy belong to? Ungokabani?” she replies, her pace unfaltering as you whimpered, her words only lessening the distance of your high.

Who do you belong to? How could she ask such a thing? From the moment she walked in, she knew your were hers, if you’d really wanted her to leave, she wouldn’t have made it past the hallway. You wanted her, nearly more than she wanted you. You wanted her to chase you, to catch you, make you know that as much you try to hide it, you existed simply for one another.

“You! I’m yours. I’m yours, my queen. I’ve never belonged to anyone, but you!”

The royal’s hips faltered at the statement, lost in the undeniable honesty of your words. She toke the opportunity to learn over, whispering in your ear. “That’s right, nkosazana. And you never will.”

That’s was confirmation enough for you. With the next thrust you were cumming. Your limbs grew limp as you squirted all over Shuri’s pelvis, moaning loudly.

You looked up at the mirror, lower lip caught between your teeth to see Shuri’s head buried in your neck as she continued to sloppily move inside you. Her groans were stifled by your skin, the vibrations making you shudder as you felt her bottom out, throwing her head back as your name left her lips.

She bends over you again, kissing your shoulder before meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“Ndiyakuthandana, sweet girl.”

You hummed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes low-lidded as you replied. “I love you too.”

She smiled at your words, standing before pulling out of you slowly. You sighed as she did, missing the feeling of being filled.

“Come on,” she said nodding toward the shower, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

You stood, wincing at the slight pain your back. Taking her hand, you limped slowly.

Her free hand went to start the shower, fingers running under the stream to assure a comfortable temperature for you. Once she was satisfied, Shuri steps inside, pulling you into her embrace as she does.

Your arms wrap around her necks as hers cage your waist. Your fingertips play with the growing hair at her nape as she hums contently, leaning her head back into your touch.

You tilt your head up to place a soft kiss on her lips. Shuri reciprocated, pushing her tongue into your mouth. She pulls away your bottom lip between her teeth as she growls deeply.

“Mine.”

You smile happily as you reply.

“Yours.”

#naomis-daydreams #shuri x reader #shuri x black!fem reader #shuri x black!reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri udaku #shuri smut #shuri udaku x reader #shuri black panther #mcu shuri #shuri x fem!reader

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quite-right-too · 1 year ago

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Animal I Have Become

Dark!Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: The Doctor doesn't like seeing people harm what's his. (18+ only)

The Oncoming Storm.

The Time Lord Victorious.

The Destroyer of Worlds.

The Doctor had many names in many different languages that spread across the stars. Tales of the last of the Time Lords echoed through the galaxy — the man who had destroyed two entire races, including his own people, and stopped being merciful many years ago.

Nobody quite knew how old the Doctor was, or how far back the legends had been traced, but one thing was certain.

Everywhere you went, people were afraid of the Doctor.

The Doctor you knew was gentle and kind. He made you breakfast in the mornings and told you how much he loved you. His eyes were so full of adoration and joy when he was around you.

However, that didn’t mean he was always like that.

All you had done was stop for repairs. You had a task to complete; find the market stall and acquire a list of parts. The Doctor had already written a list and drew some pictures next to each part to make it easier for you to find.

The city you were in was disorienting. It had already gotten dark, making the directions you were given nearly useless. One wrong turn and you found yourself in an alley. As you went to turn around, a man approached you.

His skin was a dark, rich shade of blue. He looked human aside from that. And the small horns that stuck out of his forehead. ‘Like a devil,’ you thought.

“So,” the dark humanoid man standing in front you took a step forward, prompting you to take a step back. “What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” The street lamp above you flickered unnervingly as you inched further and further away. Each step forward was met with a step back until you were cloaked in darkness, just outside of the small illuminated circle you were relying on for just a modicum of safety.

You felt your back hit the wall as you took another step backwards — it was a dead end.

You were trapped.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Your heart began to race as a silver glint in the man’s hand caught your eye. The low light reflected off the knife that he held tightly.

Uncertainty makes you afraid. Fear makes you reckless. Just be confident in everything you do and above all else, just remember…

The Doctor’s words echoed through your head as you tightened your fists, preparing for whatever was going to come next. If you were going to die, you would not make it easy. You braced for the inevitable as your attacker surged forward.

I will always be there to save you.

The blue-skinned man was pulled backwards into the light and tossed to the ground. A sickening crack echoed through the dark alley followed by a groan and a cough.

Towering above him was the Doctor. Tall and powerful, long coat billowing around him from the speed he had run over. This was not the man you woke up next to that morning or made love to the night before.

This was the Oncoming Storm.

And he was pissed.

Even in the faint light, you could see that his eyes were impossibly dark. He stared down at the man on the ground with a sneer, his converse-clad foot pressing down on his throat. Below him, the stranger clawed at the Doctor’s leg.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” the Doctor murmured coldly. “Why shouldn’t I spill your blood all over the pavement like the filth you are?”

Fear flashed in the alien’s eyes. “Please, I’m sorry,” he choked out breathlessly. “I didn’t know you- I would never have-” He was cut off as the Doctor put pressure on his throat, kneeling down to pick up the dropped knife.

The Time Lord twirled the blade in his hand. “Oh,” he cooed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have.” Without warning, the Doctor quietly and subtly drove the knife into the man’s chest. “And you never will again.”

The thrashing subsided and the Doctor stood up, leaving the knife in the man's chest as thick red liquid began to form a pool underneath him. Wiping his hand haphazardly on his pant leg, he stared down at the body below him.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.”

Before you could even get a word out over what you had just witnessed, the Doctor had you pinned against the wall with a bruising kiss. “You heard me,” he growled. “You’re mine. All mine.” His hands gripped your hips with such force that you couldn’t move, even if you tried.

You gasped as he moved his mouth down your neck. “Fuck, Doctor!” That spurred him on further as he rutted against you, his hardening cock pressing against your lower abdomen.

Nimble fingers undid the button on your jeans, ripping them down your legs with your underwear. “You’re all fucking mine,” he growled as he unbuttoned his own trousers and shoved them down to his thighs, pants following.

You were desperate for more. Hard and fast and brutal.

The look in the Doctor’s eyes indicated that he knew exactly what you wanted.

Wordlessly, he helped lift you so could wrap your legs around his hips, cock resting at your entrance. “Oooh, so wet for me already?” he breathed, thrusting himself against your slit. “You got absolutely soaked watching me make sure nobody ever touches what’s mine.” His long coat settled around the two of you, offering more privacy in the darkness.

The head of his cock slipped inside you, resting just for a second, before he slammed himself into you to the hilt. “Oh, gods,” he groaned, beginning a punishing rhythm. “You feel so fucking good.” His mouth began to wander down your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into your skin.

As he pushed you harder into the wall, one of his hands wandered up to the back of your head, keeping you from hitting the wall as he fucked you mercilessly.

Even in the situation you were in now, you found it extremely endearing.

“Doctor, please,” you choked out, hands grasping at his back. “I need you, all of you.” You felt him grin against your throat at your words.

“Damn right you do. You’re mine. Only mine. Nobody else gets to touch you.” He enunciated with a particularly hard thrust, “Look at you. Fuck, nobody even gets to think about you.” He let out a filthy moan as your fingers tangled in his hair. “I’ll kill the next bastard that thinks they can take you from me.”

Tightening around his cock, your impending orgasm was making itself known. The Doctor knew it too, keeping his thrusts hard and fast.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you, love? When you do, you’re going to scream for me. Scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to. Be good and come for me. Now.”

You felt the coil snap as your orgasm crashed over you. You followed his instructions, screaming his name. Calling out for the universe to hear. Making sure everyone knew what you were.

Property of the Doctor.

A few more thrusts and the Doctor followed with a shout, burying his face into your neck. He marked you inside and out, filling you just as you liked. Spurting his come into you and letting it trail down your arse. Leaving you absolutely fucked filthily and ruined for anyone who even thought of trying their luck with you.

“Thank you,” you sighed happily as he helped ease you down off of him. It didn’t take long for him to clean you both up and drag you off to the TARDIS.

He made sure you knew you were his at least five more times that night.

#my fic #tenth doctor #doctor who #tenth doctor x reader #time lord victorious #dark!ten

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2nd2ndalto · 3 months ago

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Adventures in Babysitting

Will comes home to discover an unexpected babysitter in his house.

- - - -

(This work is an outtake from Fall Down With You, but you certainly don't need to read one to understand the other)

- - - -

Will drags his feet up the steps to his front door, fumbling and nearly dropping his keys. He’s been at the hospital for so many hours he hasn’t even seen sunlight today. He misses it almost as much as he misses his husband and their infant daughter.

When Will last saw Nico, his husband had looked dead on his feet, eyes more shadowed than Will’s ever seen them, valiantly using the last of his wits and energy to shush and rock and bounce a screaming baby. Nico had still managed a half-smile as Will kissed them both goodbye.

Will’s mom likes to say that Nora has her days and nights mixed up, but Will’s not convinced the baby has any concept of time at all, her naps no more than a long blink and her night sleeps interrupted repeatedly for bottles and cuddles and diaper changes and seemingly random, ear-splitting screaming.

The two of them had decided this was the best plan, when they brought Nora into their lives – that Will would continue with his residency and Nico would take a year’s leave from his post-grad studies. It had seemed so sensible at the time, when it was just the two of them, discussing it all with level heads and eight hours’ sleep every night. Now it feels ridiculous that they ever thought this would be easy.

Nico’s bearing the brunt of it, of course. But then there’s the perpetual ache in Will’s chest that comes from knowing he’s physically unable to help as much as he wants to. And besides that, a fourteen-hour shift seems like an interminable amount of time in the life of someone who’s less than 100 days old.

“She smiled,” Nico had told Will one day last week, ecstatic. And Will had been thrilled, of course, but then he’d promptly burst into tears because gods, he’s just missing so much. Nico had held tight to Will with one arm, Nora in the other, all three of them in tears as Nico tried to reassure Will that this was only the first of many smiles.

Finally managing to turn the key in the lock, Will steps inside, pulling the door shut behind him and lowering his backpack to the floor. The house is blessedly quiet, and he takes a moment to lean against the closed door, eyes falling shut. A moment later he feels himself wobble, head bobbing. He should probably find a horizontal surface before passing out. Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way quietly into the living room. There’s no telling where or when there might be a sleeping baby these days, and they’ve learned very quickly to never, ever disturb one of those.

“Good evening, William,” intones a deep voice.

Will nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to see his father-in-law - the Lord of the Underworld seated in the glider chair, lit somewhat ominously from the lamp above, their eight-week-old daughter nestled in his arms.

Will clutches at his chest. “Jesus! I mean – Hades! Um – sir.”

Hades rolls his eyes. It reminds Will so much of Nico that he almost laughs. Would have, probably, if he weren't deathly afraid of waking the sleeping child in Hades’ arms.

“There’s no need to call me sir, William. You may call me by my name. As we have previously discussed.”

“Sorry, sir – Hades.”

Will definitely hadn't been expecting company, and he’s suddenly painfully aware of his own disheveled appearance, not to mention the dishes in the sink, the unvacuumed carpet and the coffee table strewn with various baby accessories. He restrains himself from starting to tidy.

“What – um – what are you doing here?” Will stammers. “I mean, not that I’m not pleased to see you, but –”

“My son is sleeping."

Will feels his eyes go wide. “Just – just like a regular sleep though, right? Not, like –”

Hades’ expression softens, marginally. “Yes. He is slumbering. In your – um. Bedroom.”

“And you – you’re –”

“I am babysitting, William.”

“Oh. Wh-why?” Will’s voice comes out higher than he planned.

They gaze at each other for a long moment. Will's so exhausted he wonders if he might be hallucinating this entire encounter.

Hades clears his throat. “My son was badly in need of rest. I believe he prayed to me in a moment of weakness. But I was only too pleased to be summoned to spend some quality time with my granddaughter.”

Will blinks, his tired brain still struggling to make sense of the scene before him. Nora’s dark head is nestled into the crook of Hades’ shoulder, her pudgy cheek squashed against the faces of the damned undulating within his robes. It doesn’t seem conducive to sleeping. But then again, she is a granddaughter of the Underworld.

“Well, um. Thank you,” Will says. “I can take her now though, sir. Hades.” He takes a step towards the god cradling his infant daughter, but Hades shifts the baby, holding her closer.

“You will not.”

“I – won’t?”

“My son tells me you worked many hours at the hospital today. Is this accurate?”

“Well. Yes. Fourteen hours,” Will admits. Honestly, if he hadn’t been confronted by his father-in-law in his living room, there’s probably no way he’d still be upright. His feet and back ache, eyes burning with tiredness.

Hades studies him for a moment. “Sleep, William.”

Will spares a longing glance towards the bedroom. “Really? Are you – are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I do not mind. I intend to stay and offer my assistance until Wednesday morning, at which point your father will arrive.”

Will blinks. “My father? As in… Apollo?”

Hades inclines his head. “Indeed. It is high time that we gods became more involved with our earthly relations. Now, go to bed.”

Will showers first, quickly, just enough to feel he’s gotten rid of the lingering hospital smells. As he pads down the hall, he swears he hears a low, mournful voice singing in the living room. He shakes his head in disbelief.

Will quietly lets himself into the bedroom, heart swelling as he catches sight of his husband, buried in blankets, only a familiar mop of dark hair visible. He climbs into bed as quietly as he can, but Nico stirs when Will nudges close to him. He smells a bit like sweat and sour milk.

“Oh good, now I can sleep properly,” Nico mumbles, snuggling closer to wrap himself around Will. He sighs contentedly, head tucked under Will’s chin, tangling their legs. “How was your day?” The words are hot against Will’s chest.

“It was awful. Nico – your dad is here,” Will whispers, still not entirely sure he didn’t imagine it.

Nico lets out a giggle. He pulls back to gaze at Will, looking a bit guilty.

"The last two days have been a nightmare – I was just so desperate for Nora to sleep. I accidentally prayed to my dad, and he showed up."

Will makes a soft sound of sympathy, brushing the hair off his husband's forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn’t here. Does he like… does he know what to... do?”

Nico shrugs. "He had her fast asleep within five minutes of getting here. Said he used to do the same thing with me."

"That’s actually kind of sweet," Will says, letting out a laugh of the ridiculousness of the situation. "Do you think he’s using some kind of Underworld magic on her?"

"At this point I kind of don’t care," Nico admits.

"You didn’t try to send her to the Underworld the old-fashioned way, did you?" Will teases.

"I mean. She is kind of a monster."

Will laughs, pulling his husband back into his chest.

"I just… I love her so much, Will," Nico mumbles, suddenly sounding tearful. "I’d lay down my life for her without a second thought. But I – I also just want things to be normal again. I want to sleep in bed with you all night. I want to eat a whole meal without anyone screaming at me."

Will hums in agreement, stroking Nico's hair.

“This is so hard," Nico whispers.

“I know, love. Why didn’t you call me?"

“What were you going to do? It’s not like you could leave work. I know how busy things have been there for you lately. I didn’t want to give you another thing to worry about.”

Will sighs. "It has to get better eventually, right?" he murmurs. "I mean... people keep on having babies. Some people even have lots of them."

"Yeah," Nico whispers.

Percy had told them as much, when he and Annabeth had come to visit last week. Will had tried to ignore the haunted look in Percy’s eyes.

"Anyway," Nico continues, sounding incredulous, "my dad said he was proud of me for asking for help. And now he's got like, a whole lineup of babysitters planned."

Will giggles. "That should be entertaining, at least," he says, trying to imagine his own father calming their screaming daughter.

"One day at a time, right?" Nico asks, already sounding half-asleep.

"Yeah," Will breathes. He's already planning on getting to work late tomorrow, determined to cuddle his sleeping husband as long as possible. "Hey. I'm proud of you for asking for help too," he says into Nico’s hair.

"It's good practice. For both of us. We can do this, right? We can... parent better than we were parented?” Nico mumbles. His words are sleepy and slurred, and Will squeezes him tighter.

“I hope so. It's got to help that we want to, right?”

Nico mumbles something unintelligible, melting into Will, heavy and warm. He presses his nose into Will’s chest, the same way Nora does when Will wears her in the BabyBjorn.

Will relaxes into his husband's embrace, willing himself not to respond to Nora's every peep and sigh in sleep the way his brain has already become accustomed to. Someone else is in charge, for the moment.

Everything is okay.

- - - -

Notes:

1. Thanks ever so much to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for the beta!! 2. When I was a brand new mom, I had a fantasy that ~something would happen to me - not something terrible, but an accident or injury that would put me in the hospital for a few nights so I could GET SOME SLEEP. It didn't happen. I still survived. :) But man, non-sleeping babies are the absolute worst.

#nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #fluff #humour #parenthood #hades #rated g

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greetingfromthedead · 1 month ago

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8. Death's Mercy

Series: Apple Blossoms

Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader

Word count: 3k

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The tent is filled with heavy breaths as the canvas doesn't keep out the scorching air, making the people, who are already in bad shape, gasp for breath. Sweat drips from their brows, fevers ravaging their meek bodies. It is hard to watch and even harder to ignore, but you turn your back anyway. The guilt gnaws at you as you set up the gas burner on a rickety old table and fill a pot with water you brought with you. Knives lingers next to you, watching as you go through some of the bags with your own supplies, pulling out vials and packets that you will need to prepare the venom. Carefully you start measuring powders and liquids into the simmering pot, the clear water turning cloudy as you add the ingredients. The man beside you steps back, but you don't look, instead just listening to the footsteps as they leave.

Knives chooses to walk to the other side of the tent. The lamps from last night are put out, and the dim light filling the space creeps in through the cracks of the canvas, turning the sunshine a dull orange. He watches the people lay on the mats with their faces red and swollen, yet their bodies appear starved and thin. Bandages peek out from under their tattered clothing, hinting at wounds that will never heal. He wonders if he looked as helpless and miserable as these people do. After all, from what you've said, it sounds like they are in a very similar condition than what he was in.

He doesn't even realize that he has squatted down next to an elderly man to get a closer look. The wrinkled face is filled with silent suffering, the bushy eyebrows in a deep frown as his whole face crunches in due to something he must be dreaming of. The man's eyes are closed tightly, lost in his own world. He is still tall, but age and famine have left just a skeleton behind. Suddenly his eyes shoot open, his gaze scanning quickly left and right before stopping on Knives's face. The old man grabs hold of his hand with surprising strength, the bony fingers clutching tightly.

"My son! You've come for me? Is it finally time?" The old man takes a deep and ragged breath before continuing with the same hopeful tone of voice: "How I have waited for you, night and day! Please take me with you to see the good Lord! Relieve me from this suffering and pain."

Knives is taken aback, surprised by both the request of the old man and being called someone's son. It feels like a blade twisting somewhere in his gut. He doesn't know what to say or what to do. His voice catches in his throat as he searches for words to respond, but you already kneel down beside him, shifting the old man's gaze from him to yourself.

"Doc?" the man mumbles weakly, clearly confused. "Help me."

"I will," you promise solemnly, putting a cup into his shaking hand that releases Knives's. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."

Knives stands up again, taking a long step backward to watch as you take his place without looking at him. You seem so sure of yourself. Confident in your decision, calm in the face of someone who is clearly dying a slow and painful death. Your hands don't shake, unlike his, as you help the man drink from the cup, lifting his head just like you had done with Knives when he was too weak to do anything at all.

"Go clean your hands," you instruct him firmly, barely turning your head to speak to him.

Knives doesn't know what to do anyway, so he takes your advice and slowly walks away towards the table where he pours some of the distilled alcohol over his hands, watching as the liquid drips off onto the ground as he rubs it over his skin, his fingers still trembling from something he himself doesn't quite understand. He hides his hands in the hoodie's pockets, not wanting you to see them and not wanting to think about the reason they won't stop shaking. He still feels the way the man's fingers squeezed his, the desperate plea they conveyed. It reminds him of the way you had grabbed his hand earlier; you too felt desperate, but for very different reasons. The concern he recognized in your voice and eyes was the same you displayed while taking care of him. The same kind of determination to keep him alive.

It bothers him that you're taking over his thoughts again. You always worm your way into his mind. Everything you do threatens to drive him crazy. Every time he gets even the slightest feeling that he understands you, you do the opposite of what he expects. He watches from a far corner of the tent as you walk between the pot and the patients to administer each one some of the liquid that he knows has worm venom in it. Your expression is serious, yet every time you speak to one of the people here, he sees softness and kindness in your eyes. Your voice is comforting and reassuring, even if it is answering a plea for death.

After seeing the last patient, you return to the pot to add more venom to it, turning it slowly with the metal ladle until Knives comes back to your side.

"Would you stir this until it starts boiling and then bottling it?" you ask and point at some empty vodka bottles.

"Alright" Knives answers and takes the ladle from your hand.

"Thanks," you shift away to gather the supplies you will need from the different crates.

"What are you going to do?" Knives wonders aloud.

"Going to get them all cleaned up."

"What for?"

"Because their families will want to say their goodbyes before they go, and the people here deserve to go out with as much dignity as I can give them, and it helps keep safe those who aren't infected yet." you speak as you continue to pick up bandages and cloth.

"Isn't that a waste of resources?" Knives asks.

"Perhaps. But it's important to me."

"So you currently gave them just enough poison to help them sleep and not feel pain?"

"Yes. I don't want them to suffer anymore. They will get the chance to say farewell with as much comfort as I can provide, and then... I will give them the medicine you are stirring up. That way they get to pass peacefully and painlessly."

"Why not continue giving them what you just did?" Knives doesn't understand.

"Mercy." You sigh heavily. "If I continue with the same dose, it will kill them anyway. It will cause organ failure and damage their mind. Not to mention, we will need the venom to treat others. If you think I take any pleasure or satisfaction from this, I don't. I do what I can and what I am asked to do. You're welcome to think I am cruel."

"I don't," Knives says quietly, turning his eyes to the simmering liquid in the pot to avoid meeting your gaze.

The look Knives saw in your eyes for the rest of the night made a pit form in his stomach. He saw the helplessness and pain in them as you watched people come and go from the tent to say their final goodbyes. It was heartfelt and touching, but all he could focus on was your silent suffering. The weight of their grief and loss was almost suffocating in the space, yet you kept comforting both the dying and the ones left behind. Together with Jenny's help, you guided everyone through the difficult decisions and the burdens that come with them. No complaint left your lips, not even a heavy sigh as you carried the weight of their pain with grace and compassion.

It was a long night. You tried to send him away to go to sleep, but Knives refused with an indifferent scoff. He couldn't rip himself from this agonizing display: the suffering of humanity and their fragile bodies. One by one, he watched the weak flames die out, accompanied by the cries of those who are left to suffer despite what you call mercy. And if that wasn't enough, the same people came to thank you, tears still streaming down their faces as they expressed their gratitude for killing the people closest to them. Humans are strange. Perhaps they do take satisfaction in death and suffering. But your eyes will continue to haunt him. There was nothing but sorrow in them.

You returned to the inn together. You spoke no words, and neither did he. A heavy silence sticks to both of you. As soon as you enter the guesthouse, the receptionist stands up from her seat and addresses you, but as she gets no answer, she falls silent. Knives notices the tray of food in front of the innkeeper, clearly meant for two, untouched. You don't hear anything but the ringing in your ears. Your limbs and eyes feel heavy; your only goal is to go to bed and put this day behind you. While you continue up the stairs, Knives stops, first watching you leave and then turning to the woman behind the table.

"I heard… about the people," the woman says softly, hesitant with every word. "I got some food for the both of you. It's the least I can do. If you don't mind… would you take it with you?"

She grabs the platter and offers it to Knives. He looks at the tray and the woman, not suspiciously, but with curiosity. She offered breakfast too in a similar manner, free of charge. It seems strange to Knives; the usually greedy and selfish people in his head would never offer something for free.

"I will take it," he finally says, not with any particular emotion, before taking the tray and heading to the stairs. He stops on the landing without looking back. "Thank you."

By the time he makes it to the top of the stairs, the hallway is empty, and the doors to the different rooms are all closed. He walks over to the one that belongs to your room and is about to push it open when he hears sobs coming from inside. His hand hovers over the doorknob, unsure of what to do next, but he decides to pull away. With the tray still in hand, he turns around and leans his back against the metal that separates you from him. Knives feels like it is hard to breathe, almost like something heavy is sitting on his chest and closing their fingers around his neck. He still wears the mask, and he blames it for the lack of air, but he knows you wouldn't want him to walk around without it, so he makes do. He stands by the door, unable to shut out the way you cry.

"Excuse me," a small voice speaks up. Knives didn't even hear anyone approach. As he looks down, he sees an elderly woman. "This is the doctor's room, isn't it? I was hoping to get the chance to say thanks."

"Doc's not taking any walk-ins at the moment," Knives speaks calmly, still standing by the door like a sentry for the second time in one day.

"It will only take a moment," the granny insists.

"No. Not tonight. Anything you want to say now, you can say tomorrow," he stands firm, putting more gravity into each word. He isn't even quite sure why, but he refuses to have anyone walk in on you like this.

"Very well," the old woman says with a sigh, clearly disappointed, and heads back towards the stairs, where she stops and turns back. "You know, your eyes, my boy, they remind me so much of my long gone son's. They are the same pale blue of the early morning sky. The same as my husband's, whom I lost today. Thank you for reminding me of them."

Knives is shocked by her words and focused on the echoing footsteps on the metal stairs, the distinct click of a cane hitting the steps with each slow and deliberate movement. He doesn't even notice that your room has fallen silent. As you push down the handle, it sends a jolt through the rest of the door, alerting Knives that you're about to open it. He steps away and turns around to see your puffy face appear in the crack. He notices the wet stains on your sleeve where you wiped away your tears. You look around the hallway.

"Who were you talking to?" you ask him.

"Nobody," he replies, his gaze lingering on your face.

"Why didn't you come in?"

"I didn't want to interrupt." Knives shrugs one shoulder slightly, committed to looking as careless as he can.

"Sure, but you can interrupt me all you want; after all, it's your room too." You step more into the chamber, opening the door wider for him. "Come on in."

Knives steps inside, his eyes moving over the dimly lit space. He notices the cloth you had around your face earlier. It lays on the carpet as if thrown aside. The space in front of the bed is littered with the contents of one of your first aid kits.

"I was going to take your stitches out, but…" you sigh, looking at the mess. "I'll clean it up."

"No." Knives says resolutely, capturing your gaze as the door closes behind him, leaving the room in darkness, except for the shaft of moonlight intruding through the window. He steps closer, the pale light creeping up over his body. He reaches out the tray of food.

"I don't…" you begin to protest.

"You need to eat," he interrupts you. "Do you need me to get creative with feeding you?"

He remembers how you kept pushing him to eat even when he didn't want to. You kept insisting, even threatening him. So he echoes your own sentiment, as it is the only thing he can think to do. You look up at his stern eyes and then back at the outstretched tray before wiping your face again and taking the food. With Knives's hands finally free, he pulls the mask off, taking a deep breath, but his chest still feels restricted. Uncertainty lingers on his mind; he shouldn't care about any of this. Not about the people, not about what you did, and certainly not about you. He should not take it on himself to cater to what you need, especially when you don't even want any of it. Yet he can't resist the itch.

While you go to sit by the small table, Knives walks over to the bed and squats down to pick up the plasters, bandages, and tools that lay about. He places each of them on the edge of the bed until he picks up the bag that used to hold them. He sees the ripped seam by the zipper, threads hanging out from the fabric. He carefully examines the bag, realizing that you must have used quite a lot of force while pulling at the stuck zipper, clearly frustrated by the events of the day. Knives adjusts so he sits on the floor, back resting against the frame of the bed. He doesn't know how to repair the bag, so he simply stuffs it with the supplies that escaped earlier.

You finish your share, only now realizing the ravaging hunger within you that was awakened by the delicious food in front of you. The rest is Knives's, but you can't help eyeing what's his.

"Go on, eat as much as you want," he says, looking up at you from the floor. He sits in the shadow, away from the puddle of moonlight on the floor, yet you see the reflection of his eyes shining back at you.

"I can't. It's yours," you protest.

"All you've done for as long as I have been stuck with you is make sacrifices. For once, be selfish; eat the food." You reluctantly pick up his food and take a small bite, feeling guilty for indulging in something you don't believe to be yours, but the heavy sorrow of the day quickly overwhelm those feelings.

"I don't understand," Knives finally admits. "Why did you waste so many resources to save me? I wasn't doing much better than the people from today, was I? Yet you pulled every trick you could for a sliver of hope. Why didn't you do to me what you did for them?"

"I don't know," you say, but Knives realizes the lie in those words. He chooses not to dwell on the matter for tonight. Silence falls over the small room again until you finish most of the food that's left, handing Knives the leftover apple, his fingers brushing yours as he takes it.

"About the sleeping arrangement," you begin, but Knives shakes his head.

"You get the bed. I'll take one of the mats we used on the way here," he insists, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling while taking a bite from the apple.

"No, I mean that it is a wide bed. There's plenty of room for both of us. I don't mind. I would feel bad if you gave up the bed just for me, unless you disagree with my proposal."

"Alright," he says almost dryly while chewing.

"Alright," you echo lightly, "I'll get ready for bed."

Knives doesn't look away from the ceiling as you pick up some clothes and head for the door to go to the shared bathroom at the end of the hallway.

"Also. Nothing about saving you was a waste," you say quietly before pulling the door shut after yourself.

Knives sighs deeply, unsettled by the mix of feelings bubbling inside him.

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#trigun #fanfic #fanfiction #millions knives #plant boi #x reader #writing #knives x reader

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lazyalani · 1 year ago

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| Sebastian Michaelis × [F!Reader]

| His butler, enamored

| fluff, reader likes teasing sebby, reader is lizzy and edward's older sister, reader and seb implied to have done 'it' before, seb is so done, suggestive, this gets a little bit spicy at the end, no smut tho, and here goes my first kuroshitsuji fic

| Summary: In which reader is Sebby's Lizzy, in a way, but he knows what's truly under that overly bright facade.

| Kuroshitsuji Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

"Sebby! There you are, I've been looking all over for you."

His eye twitches as he internally sighs before slowly putting on a smile and turning to you, setting down the lamp on a nearby table. It was nighttime, but considering you, there was no such thing as night and day when it comes to your antics.

"Milady, how may I help you?" He still asks, knowing it would just be one of your 'moments'.

You return a lively smile at him. "You always act so formal even when I told you to just call me by my name." You set down your own lamp on a table.

"Apologies, [Name], how may I help you?"

"You're still talking like a salesman, but oh, whatever, perhaps your polite charm is one of the things I like about you. Oh, so there's this ball coming up...." You trailed.

"Earl Denia's Masquarade ball?" He asks, ignoring your first sentence. He desperately wants to continue dusting the shelves to distract himself from your piercing stare but his pride as a butler would most definitely not let him.

"Yes, that one! So, I was invited and Lizzy already invited Ciel and Edward says he already has a date..." You look at him expectantly.

Sebastian's stress keeps growing word for word, he already has suspected this when you brought up a ball. But hey, they say it's different when you really hear it directly, right?

"Will you please come with me to the ball?" You asked, a bright smile on your face.

He could almost feel his master staring at him with that laughing smirk on his face.

Yeah, it does feel different when said directly. His stress levels are at their highest compared to before.

"Earl Grey--"

"Charles said he won't be able to come!" You immediately shut his only possible excuse down. "And you'll be able to keep an eye out and take care of Ciel during our stay there still, so, please?"

"Milady, I have priorities and duties--"

"Oh, come on, it's not like I'm taking you home with me. The most we'll do is dance, or are you expecting more, Sebby?" You flash a sly grin at him.

Ah, there it is. Here drops that bright, bubbly facade, and here comes those true colors.

He doesn't bother hiding his sigh now. "A noble lady musn't be reckless with her words, milady. And much less say that a mere butler would dare think about such intentions of his lord's relative."

The ray of light coming from the moon that shone through the window emphasized the sly grin that stretched wider on your face.

The strides you took towards him were fast and almost stealthy, your hand reaching up to cup his face and bring it down, close to yours, and dangerously closer to your lips.

Sebastian used the indifference on his face to hide the intentions of staring at your lips. Red, no excess stains, no unecessary blemishes, perfect.

"Then it must be great that I'm no true noble, am I?" You whispered, your breath brushing on his lips.

It's true, you were only adopted by the Midfords. A commoner at birth.

"Come on, Sebastian, don't act like you've already forgotten how we shared our feelings two days ago." You licked your bottom lip and stretched out a smirk at his reaction.

His eyes narrowed dangerously at your words. "There were no feelings shared, milady, please step back. Even in this middle of the night, someone could roam around." There was an underlying threat on his words.

You laughed victoriously and stepped back, plackng your hands behind your back. Your eyes were nothing like the bright, bubbly, friendly, lively, obviously Lizzy's sister you were before. That facade of yours was replaced with a sly grin, cunning and teasing eyes.

"How many times must I ask you not to act recklessly, milady? Please mind your words and actions, you are still in the Phantomhive Manor, Lady Midford." He closes his eyes and sighs.

"Oh, but you love it, Sebby." You tease. "You always do." You flash him that irritating smirk again.

His eyes narrow again as he chuckles darkly. "No matter how hard you try, you won't win at this game you're playing at, milady."

You raised a brow, clearly amused at his statement, challenged, even. "Oh? But I already am, Butler."

He gives a sly smirk back. "You won't break through me, Mistress."

You take a short and fast leap, taking his neck and wiping that smirk off his lips with a kiss.

However, his smirk only stretches, expecting the same act you two always end up with, placing his hands on your waist and leaning down to respond as reflex.

Your fingers tangled in his hair brushes his scalp, his scent, despite doing heavy chores, encasing you darkly and seductively. You let a sly smile match his own smirk in the kiss, letting only the night and the moon witness a forbidden affair between a butler and a lady.

You slowly let go of the kiss and bring your lips to his ear. "Liar."

He lets his smirk fall down as you take your lamp and walk away from him, taking off his gloves and brushing his messed up hair with his fingers.

He sighs, walking towards his master's study to organize, thinking.

A demon and a human, huh? Unheard of, disliked, even by him, but if it's you, he could maybe (certainly) make an exception.

But for now, he could let you continue this little game of yours.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #sebastian #black butler x female reader #black butler x you #sebastian michaelis x you #black butler imagines #kuroshitsuji x you #lazyalani

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pentopaper23 · 6 months ago

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Collection of one shots revolving around Anthony comforting his siblings while they are injured or sick.

CHAPTER THREE: Daphne - Late Night Calls and Appendicitis

Ring-ring

A sharp ringing startled Anthony awake and he looked around his dorm room in sleepy confusion as he swiped a post-it note off his cheek. He had fallen asleep at his desk after finishing an assignment and pouring over some accounts related to the estate.

“Hello?” he said answering the phone as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Anthony it’s Mrs Wilson,” a panicked voice said from the other end of the phone. Anthony instantly woke up and leaped to his feet, his desk chair skating back with the force in which he stood. He could hear the sounds of a hospital in the background. The beeps of machines, the voices of the tannoy system and the sounds of people milling around the hallways.

“It’s Daphne my Lord. Poor thing has been sick for a few days, we thought it was just stomach bug. But now the doctors are saying it’s her appendix. They took her through to A&E but they won’t let us in. I have the doctor here you need to speak to him.” Anthony didn’t a chance to reply before he heard the phone being passed to another and a deep vice of a male doctor filled his ear.

“Sir, I am Doctor Whitesmith. I am the head paediatric surgent at Kings Memorial in Charcott. Am I speaking Viscount Anthony Edmund Bridgerton?” He asked in with quick formality.

“Yes this is he. What’s happening? Is Daph okay?” Anthony replied putting his phone down and on speaker as he started to rush around his room packing. He pulled his duffle out of his cupboard and started throwing clothes and bathroom items in it.

“My Lord we admitted your sister this afternoon for an appendicitis. Can you confirm that you are her legal guardian and are willing to give verbal approval for us to go ahead and remove it?” The doctor said getting right to the point. Anthony froze with his phone charger in his hand. Surgery? Daph needed surgery. He could feel the panic starting to fill his stomach.

“Yes, I’m her guardian.” Anthony replied flinging the phone charger into his bag.

“And you verbally approved for us to go forward with the operation?” the doctor asked again with an air of urgency.

“Yes, yes of course do what you need to do. I’m in Oxford, I will be there as soon as possible,” the young viscount replied.

“Was there someone you can appoint to look after things until you arrive?” Dr Whitesmith asked and Anthony could hear him click open a pen.

“Mrs Wilson. She has been our housekeeper since we were children, she capable of handling things until I arrive, please allow her to be with Daphene until I get there. I’m leaving now,” Anthony said zipping up his bag a little too harshly and hanging up the phone.

Less than twenty minutes later Anthony was speeding down the M25 towards Kent with panic now more then every settling in his stomach.

“Google call Benedict” he said, and a dial tone echoed around the car. His brother answered after two rings.

“Ant!” he said, and Anthony could hear crying in the background along with Miss Sharma trying to calm down whoever was crying.

“Benedict are you okay? Is everyone okay?” Anthony asked his fingers tightening around the stirring wheel, his knuckles turning white under the orange street lamps that lined the motorway. “I’m sorry, I should have called when she first got sick, but you had your exams and assignments due an I didn’t think she was that bad and Kate and Mrs Wilson were looking after her and Anthony….I didn’t…”

Anything could hear his brother falling into a panic attacked and needed to bring him back down quickly before he slipped to far into it. “Benny take a breath for me and put Miss Sharma on.” Benedict muttered a small okay, and for the second time that night Anthony heard a phone being handed over. The crying from before got louder and he heard Kate speak to someone, “I’m just going to put you down for a second my dear” and the crying faded somewhat.

“My lord?”

“I’m on my way to the hospital, I should be there in a few hours. Can you tell me what happened Miss Sharma?” Anthony asked kindly, it wasn’t Kate’s fault that Daph was ill, and she had been a steadfast employee from the moment he hired her.

“She had been ill for a few days with what seemed to be a stomach bug, the poor thing couldn’t keep anything down. But this evening she started complaining about a sore stomach, we thought maybe she had pulled a muscle from the vomiting but then she passed out in the bathroom. Mrs Wilson rushed her into the village and John, and I have been with the children since.” Kate rushed out, trying to give Anthony as much information as she could.

“Are the other… get out of the way!” Anthony shouted when a car switched lanes and then sat in the right-hand lane, “Sorry Kate,” he said as he pulled into the left lane and illegally overtaking the stupid driver. “How are the other children? Who is crying?”

“The others a fine. Benedict is helping me with Franny and Eloise, Miss Eloise is the one you can hear crying, she more over tired then anything but refuses to go to bed. Gregory and Hyacinth are upstairs asleep in the nursery, Colin is with them.”

“I’ll go straight the hospital and depending how she is I might be back at the house tomorrow some time.” He said taking a sip of the coffee he had grabbed before leaving his accommodation hall. Thank God for the late night cafes of the university campus.

“Understood Sir.” Kate said and Anthony could hear Eloise yelling his name over and over in the background. “Put her on please Kate.” He asked and he heard her bend down to pick up his sister.

“Ant,” Eloise sobbed into the phone and Anthony closed his eyes for a second. He hated when they cried and he wasn’t there to soothe them, it always pulled at something deep in his chest and he struggled to swallow. “Hello, my darling. What’s this I hear about you avoiding bed,” Anthony said trying to make light of the situation but knew he had failed when Eloise let out a hard cry at the sound of his voice.

“Are you coming home?” Eloise said continuing to sob around her words. “I’m driving now El and I’ll here there as soon as I can my darling” Anthony said as he yet again overtook another slow driver, “But in the meantime you be good for Miss Kate and head off to bed for me.” Anthony said softly and smiled when Eliose agreed and made him promise that he would be home tomorrow before hanging up.

The hour that Anthony spent speeding down the motorway was filled with silence and the occasional swear word at the other drivers. It was little under two hours later that he pulled into the hospitals carpark and rushed inside towards the nurse’s station.

“Anthony Bridgerton for Daphne Bridgerton,” he said as he came to a sliding halt in front of a startled nurse. She was looking at him in shock and shook herself slightly before taping away on her keyboard.

“Room 173. But Sir she is in the OR” she shouted as Anthony pushed through the swing doors and ran down the hallway counting the room numbers in his head as he went. He found it empty apart from Mrs Wilson who jumped up to pull him into a tight hug. It wasn’t common for the older woman to hug the young Viscount; rules of employee and employer were normally followed to a tee. But the older woman had been with the family since before Anthony was born and he could count on his hand the times he had witnessed the woman break protocol and be overly familiar with a member of the family. They stood in each other’s tight embrace for a few heartwarming moments before Mrs Wilson pulled back and wiped her eyes.

“They took her straight in, I didn’t get to see her before.” She said tears still welling in her eyes. Anthony put a hand over her shoulder led her back to the chairs by the bed.

“Did they say anything?” he asked taking a seat next to her. Mrs Wilson shook her head, “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I all but carried her in and they wouldn’t tell me anything after the wheeled her away.” Anything made a mental note to have Mrs Wilson and Miss Sharma added to as the kids emergence contacts and have them listed with the hospital as approved visitors. The pair sat in silence before Anthony said she could head home, claiming that Miss Sharma would nee help with the children. But in reality, he didn’t wish to see him have an emotional break down if the updates about his sister weren’t good. Mrs Wilson reluctantly agree and left him with a pat on the shoulder.

He tried to ignore the curious looks from the hospital staff as they walked pasted the room. Being Viscount of the estate and surround villages Anthony and the family were well known the local and many non-locals due to the UK tablots. The eighteen-year-old Viscount with seven siblings and dead parents was still hot news in the gossip world and not a week went buy that his name wasn’t mentioned in some shape or form. If he wasn’t getting married, then he was abandoning his siblings to party at Oxford. Both of which were not true, he had been photographed once at a campus party and that forever stuck as a failing on his part and evidence of his inability to run the estate and look after his siblings. He tended to ignore most of it now, but it still stung when they unknowingly hit a little close to home.

Running the estate was harder than he first thought it would be, there was meeting with the local tenant farmers about what crops to plant and when. Calls with the master brewers are the brewery to discuss the new line of beer and whiskey the had been working on and more meetings with horse trainers that ran the breeding side the stud. One top of all that he had monthly meetings with their lawyers and accountants and not to mention all the events that the Viscount was entitled to attend. On more than one occasion he had thought about dropping out of Oxford and focusing on the estate but never went through with it after he looked back on the work, he had put in to get to where he was. He would graduate and show all the naysayers that he could be responsible and live up the to duty his father had handed down to him.

As the hours dragged on, he felt himself slip into an uncomfortable sleep in the chair by Daphne’s empty bed. He would snap awake each time someone walked past the door and look searchingly towards the doorway for an update that didn’t seem to be coming. He pulled out his phone at one point and began Googling appendicitis surgeries but quickly closed the tabs when his stomach began to knot at words like complications and haemorrhaging. With a sign he sank back into the hard chair and crossed his ankles. Just as he closed his eyes a knock on the door frame snapped them back open. A tall man in green scrubs was standing there with a clipboard in his hand.

“My lord?” Dr Whitesmith asked, waving his hand to turn on the senor room light that Anthony hadn’t realised had turned off.

“Anthony is fine,” he said walking over to the man with his hand outstretched for a hand shake. The pair shook hands and Dr Whitesmith gestured for Anthony to take a seat, cold dread spread through Anthony’s body, and he numbly sat back down in the chair.

“She not…” he said looking at the Dr in panic. Dr Whitesmith shook his head, and Anything left out a gasp and nodded his head.

“She is doing well. She is in recovery at the moment, and it was a run of the mill surgery. WE unfortunately didn’t catch it time before it burst, hence why the operation took longer than normally would. But apart from that everything went fine. She responded great to the anaesthetic and when I left her with the nurses her was coming out of it fine too.”

“So, no complications?” Anthony asked anxiously his Google search flashing before his eyes as the Dr spoke.

“None, she will make a full recovery bar no infection in three to four weeks. The nurses will run you through some post op care before you’re discharged, and they will set up a post opp appointment with me in a few weeks so we can do some scans and take the stiches out.” Dr Whitesmith continued.

“Why the scans, you said there was nothing wrong.”

“It standard practice, with all abdominal surgeries. Scans are done to triple check for any internal bleeding. But if you do notice anything like pale skin, blue lips and fingertips or if she just isn’t right. Bring her back in even if its before our set appointment. Its better to catch it early or have false alarm then not bring her in.” Dr Whitesmith said jotting something on a prescription pad and handed it to Anthony, “These are some pain meds and antibiotics for her. Instructions will be on the bottle.”

Before Anthony could reply Daphne was wheeled by two nurses. Dr Whitesmith was the first to get up and speak to her, “There she is, all awake now sweetheart?” he asked kindly reaching out to check the pulse point on her wrist and adjusted her morphine drip before he and nurses left but not before telling him to buzz them for anything he needed and letting him know someone would be by soon to fold out the sofa bed for him. Daphne paid them no mind and struggled to speak, “Ant…” she slurred as the pain med begin to take effect. Anything rushed over to her side and took her hand in his, “Daph, I’m here.”

Daphne smiled a drugged up smile and loosely tightened her hand around his, “they said you were come” she slurred again, “I told them you would” she continued and Anthony smiled at the dopped out look on her face. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand as she slowly slipped back into blissful unconsciousness.

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s0lar-ch3ri · 6 months ago

Text

Paranomally Hotline #1: Introduction

Many people have their own beliefs. They follow in their own superstitions, read about all kinds of monsters, and we hear about new creations of creatures and places daily. Inspired from already set up and built legends, or entirely original myth, you may have made some ideas yourself. At the very least, you've heard of one. However, to the average person, a myth is all they remain.

Sometimes though, the average person isn't so lucky, and stumble apon a truth: these "tall tales" are fact, not fiction, and could come for you at anytime. With the knowledge that these creatures exist, surviving them can be difficult when nobody you turn to has an idea of what you're facing.

Not, unless, you're calling the Paranomally Hotline.

Specialized in dealing with all entities and creatures of out this world, the Paranomally Hotline believes those who call and will help guide you to safety. Available whenever you need (some places may have more or less then 24 hours available), someone skilled and trained for your kind of situation is there to talk to.

If you don't know who to call, ring the numbers-

"God damn, they play whatever on these fuckin things." A man, appearing about mid 30s, turns the TV off. He gets ready for work, brushing his teeth and getting food to eat. He waves goodbye to his wife, a woman with black hair, and walks into the busy sidewalks. Walking among the people, bag on his side, he keeps going until he reaches a corner.

The scene has changed. As he turns this corner, he runs, panicked, running out of breath. He can't run forever, and hiding feels like a death trap. A creature roars out behind him, and all he wants is to go home, back before this happened.

"Someone please come save me, Lord I beg of you now, spare my soul of this fate just a bit longer," he mutters to himself as he slips into an alleyway. Through his panicked thoughts, something slips into his mind, a crystal clear one: a phone number. As he turns on his phone, which he wasn't even aware still had battery, already has a number put in. Not in a state to question it, he hurriedly rings it.

"Hello, you've reached the Paranominally Hotline, here to help with all entities and paranormals, what's got your ghost?"

"Y-you gotta help me! Th-there's a- a thing! And it's chasing me! And- and- I just want to go home, see my wife again!"

"That's what we're going to do. Now, to help figure out how I can assist you, I'll need you to answer a couple questions. First, do you believe you are still in our world, or does it seem home to somewhere else?"

"Wha-what are y- Yeah, no, it- it's all red- the sky- and it's bleeding- oh my god I didn't notice, it's fucking bleeding- I gotta get out of here-"

"Alright, let's keep a level head sir. When did you get here, and if you remember, how?"

He jumped, hearing a loud roar from this creature. "T-today, maybe 3-30 minutes, 25, gi-give or take. I went into the closet at my job and- look, can we hurry this up? There's s-something ch-ch-chasing me, and I think it's going to k-kill me."

"Alright. This is a very necessary procress, but I have an idea on how to help. Can you make it back to where this closet was?"

"Th-that's the way the monster i- you're trying to fucking kill me!"

"Sir, please. I'm trying to get you home. If you can make it over, and I'm thinking of the right thing, grab the string of the lamp above and pull it to turn off the light."

"No- why should I fucking trust yo-"

Another roar plays out. It's closer.

"...Are-"

"If I’m fucking killed, call my wife and tell her I love her."

"Of course."

The man breaks into a sprint and heads out. His legs are aching, but he has to make it, he has to. Looking straight ahead, he goes straight past the beast, about 30 feet tall and blurry as it roars again, following behind. The man begins to silently sob as he sees the building he exited from up ahead. Running inside, he closes the door of the strange building and locks it as best as he can. He runs down a hallway, where a brown closet door awaits him. It's a dingy closet, brown shelves and a blue school chair. Nothing more or less. He slams the door shut as he hears breakage outside and the loud stomps of feet. Muttering a prayer, he grabs the string of the closet's lightbulb and yanks it down as hard as he can.

Everything goes black, but he finds himself on the floor of the closet. It's a storage one, filled with boxes and shelf racks, the same one he walked into, although one of the shelves has been knocked over just inches from where he once laid unconscious. As he questions what just happened, the reality of what he just faced, he hears his phone hang up, the caller name showing.

The Paranominally Hotline.

#Paranormal Callings (And How We Got You Out)#the bright smoothie of words #WE GOT THE FIRST ONE WRITTEN BABBYYYYYYY #gonna draw it like comic style as i plan out chapter 2 :3

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bookshelf-in-progress · 29 days ago

Note

🎃

The nightingale, please?

The Nightingale Returns

Not a single star lamp lit the darkness of the cottage. Not a single star adorned the quiet young woman in the simple gray dress. In former days, Ida had dripped with stars--wore them in necklaces and bracelets, tiaras and earrings, shoes and gowns that came from dozens of admirers. She'd captivated crowds upon stages that blazed in the light of hundred of stars. In this candlelit cottage, Hans might never have known her for the same woman--but he'd heard her sing.

Ida stood before the window, lit by moonlight. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice low, but musical as ever.

"I have come from Lord Felix. He wants to see you."

Her eyes blazed like falling stars. "He expects me to come at his call? After he cast me aside for that cheap imitation?" She stormed through the parlor, looking every inch the prima donna. "I will not be kept like a pet! I will not be bought with trinkets and flattery! Not for all the stars in the sky would I ever enter the same city as that man--"

"He's dying."

Ida froze.

In his illness, Lord Felix couldn't bear brightness. The only light came from stardust sprinkled on the bed curtains, and from the faraway moon shining through the uncovered window. Even that dim light showed Felix was pale as death, wasted by illness, and tormented by memories. The son of one of the wealthiest starfall families in the city, meeting the fate common to all men.

"Ida," he murmured, as he had for the past twelve hours. "My nightingale."

Ida saw and heard as she came in the room, and Hans watched all skepticism leave her face. She knelt at his bedside and took his feverish hand between hers.

Felix's gaze cleared at her touch. "Ida?" he rasped.

"I'm here."

"I was wrong. I chased you away. I betrayed you. I'm sorry."

He was working himself up. Ida placed a hand on his lips. "All is forgiven."

He relaxed into his pillow as he had not rested in days. "Death is with me," he said. "Stay with me. Sing. I would give anything--"

"Those days are past," she said. "I sing only for love."

The light in his eyes dimmed. "I understand. I don't deserve--"

But the Nightingale sang. A lullaby, low and sweet. A song of comfort. Of rest. Of peace. She had sung for kings and emperors, upon the greatest stages on the continent, but never had she sang like this. This song came from the depths her heart, her years of pain and brokenness turned golden with forgiveness. It filled that dark silence, chasing away shadows, keeping even death at bay.

Hans wept as he heard it--for the beauty of the song, for the dying man who laid back with more peace in his face than he'd known in weeks. Ida's tears flowed onto the deathbed, but still she sang, banishing the pain of the past and the fears of the future, keeping them all in a moment of timelessness.

One song led to another, another, another, until at last, the sun rose. Lord Felix slept like a child. There was color in his face.

Ida fell to the floor, fast asleep.

Hans brought Ida back into the sickroom. Felix was propped up on pillows, sitting upright for the first time in weeks.

"Stay with me, Ida," he said, as she knelt by his bed. "It won't be like last time. I'll marry you--"

"No," she said gently.

"I wronged you, I know, but I'll spend a lifetime making it up to you--"

"I am not made for this life," she said.

"You deserve every luxury--"

"A gilded cage is still a cage. I need the country. Fresh air. Open spaces. High society would be nothing but a prison to me."

"We could stay at the country places--"

"I escaped this life once. I won't go back."

Felix fell back against the pillows.

Ida rose to her feet. "You need a wife who fits into your world. Let me remain a friend."

"I am glad to call you one."

She stepped toward the door.

Felix reached toward her. "Can't you stay a bit longer?"

She smiled gently. "I'll come back. You need someone to give you news of the country."

"I would like that," Felix said.

With a smile, Ida stepped out the door. They heard her singing as she walked away.

#answered asks #the bookshelf progresses #trick or treat tales #the nightingale #fairy tale retellings #starfall #this universe fits andersen tales so well that i couldn't resist setting this there #considering the amount of time i spent on this it's embarrassingly barebones but it's all i've got #i hope it's not too disappointing.

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rae-pss · 1 year ago

Note

I know la squadra's shared s/o is kept a secret within Passione for their safety, but one day some lower member caught them with the group or one of them.

This lead to them getting kidnapped for revenge or flirting with them cause they're all jealous on how the most despised team in Passione get to share a s/o

— RAE'S NOTE; oh my lord (👁👁). i like the angst this one could lead to...

this couldn't be happening. no, please, it had to be a joke, a very bad one.

the scene in what was once a quiet space that served as a lounge for the renowned, and disowned, group of hit men known as la squadra di esecuzione, had turned into a real disaster.

however, the disaster was not obvious at first glance, it really wasn't at all.

the room, illuminated only by a few lighted lamps, was dead; the most terrifying silence ruled it completely. all the members, nine men that each one oftheir own made anyone terrify, sunk in the gloomiest of deadly silences.

on the center table, a glass table not very high, was full of various photos. polaroid images taken over several days, weeks and even months, which were mainly focused on a single person.

—what are we going to do…?

pesci asked uncertainly, his green orbs falling mainly on the two most authority figures in the room; mainly in his fratello prosciutto and then in that of the head of the group, risotto nero. noth men's faces with an expression of complete seriousness.

—isn't it obvious?

ghiaccio, who –surprising coming from him– was calm, began to speak. although everyone knew that right now, both he and the rest were a time bomb which, each with their respective remaining time, was about to explode.

the scenario was simple, as simple as it was unnerving for the nine men. it seems that during the last few months someone has intercepted them along with a certain someone, someone they wanted out of their world as much as possible; however, life is never the way you want it to be, much less in their field of work.

someone seemed to have seen them, on multiple occasions, with that one person, which led to what none of them wanted to happen.

—they've been kidnapped…

the murmur of disbelief that came from formaggio's lips revealed how complicated the situation was. and it's that, if the photos of them didn't deceive -which they surely did not-, someone had kidnapped them and kept them locked up in who knows where.

a soft, but efficient blow was given in the table, leading the men present there to startle before directing each and every one of their glances to whoever hit the table with his clenched fist.

—melone and ghiaccio, find the ip of all their devices plus check the security cameras close by. formaggio and illuso, both to their apartment to see if there's any possible trace we can follow. prosciutto, pesci, sorbet and gelato try to find out who the kidnappers might have been.

as always, the voice of reason in the group spoke loud and clear. risotto's bloodshot eyes locked on his companions one by one as their names escaped his lips, making it clear to them what they had to do.

—we're going to find them and make whoever kidnapped them suffer until their last breath.

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rubberduckrobin · 11 months ago

Text

𝘚𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader (referred to as [Reader])

Type: Fluff (Christmas/Holiday/Winter fluff)

Word count: Around 2k.

Author’s note: Heyy! Thanks for checking this out. I’m obsessed with the new Barbatos card (the image for this fic) and it’s a shame I haven’t got it ugh. Happy holidays! 🎄

TW: A bit of alcohol but it’s just Asmo being a bit tipsy.

AO3 Link

It’s cold, yet there’s warmth inside you. An unsettled desire brings hope to the chill.

Just a glance at him and your cheeks heat up.

Fog puffs out in warm breaths, reminding you of how a child would imagine it to be like a dragon’s.

Just a glance at him and time stops .

Snow is falling.

Climbing the ladder, you steady yourself, wrapping the final string of lights against a pole.

As the lights are turned on, illuminating the entirety of the demon lord’s castle, you rush down the steps, only to fall backwards in a flurry. As swift as a winter’s solitary breeze, you are caught in the arms of none other than the man you had been infatuated with the entire duration of decorating - Barbatos.

“Easy does it. There you are.”

As he stabilises your weight in his arms, there is a comforting, lingering touch.

“Ahem. My apologies.”

“It’s ok-“

But as you try to step away from his grasp, his hands let go too quickly, causing you to tumble headfirst into the snow. (What a cliché.)

“Oh dear. [Reader], are you quite alright?”

“Ow.”

“Is that all you have to say? You seem to have taken more than just a tumble... It’s cold outside now. Allow me to take you home to warmth.”

“But-“

“If your concern is missing the final product of our efforts,” he unplugs it from the power source, “we can admire the lights later. I must prioritise your wellbeing. I will take you home.”

He ushers you away, not allowing a word more.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

As you walk beside him, you wonder if he's cold.

“Hey-“

Nevermind .

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind.”

“What was the matter?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Surely it must be something.”

“It’s alright.”

“All right, whatever pleases you.”

“Now I feel bad.”

“Then tell me, what were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask if you were cold.”

“I’m unaffected by the cold. But thank you for your concern… and you?”

“Freezing.”

“Why hadn’t you said so earlier?”

“Huh? Why?”

Is he going to offer his coat? His hand? (In marriage? You wished)

“I could have gotten someone else to assist me with the lights.”

Oh. Ohh .

“I saw you and wanted to help.”

“How generous of you… You’re shivering now, [Reader].”

“I’m fine. We’re only a few minutes away.”

“It’s nice of you to walk me back. You know, we haven’t spoken properly like…ever. I always just see you running around for Lord Diavolo…”

“Running around? Is that how you see me?”

“Just an expression, but yeah, basically.”

“I see. And yes, I suppose you’re right. We haven’t spoken properly since your arrival here at the Devildom.”

“Well, except for during the power cut. Remember?”

The darkness. It feels trapping yet too open. You can’t run, but everything can move and catch you. Waiting for the knife, or claws, or something. Something in your back.

Especially in a realm full of demons.

“You were very shaken. For someone who had borne with the Devildom’s sky for around three weeks, I didn't expect you to have a fear of darkness.”

“Thanks back then, by the way.”

“It was only natural that I, the only one present in the hall at the time, were to be the one to comfort you.”

“And you did it very well, so thank you, again.”

“Anytime, dear.”

“What did you just say?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing.”

“You-“

“We are now reaching a part of the realm that is dark and is not lit with lamps. Watch your footing.”

A shudder, but not from the cold.

“Are you alright [Reader]?”

“No…”

The darkness shrouds you but it’s less like a hug and more like suffocation.

“Ah, I see.”

He takes your hand.

It’s warm.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

As you enter the lounge of the House of Lamentation, the change of temperature brings you to shiver again.

“[Reader]?”

“Hm? I’m fine.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Only slightly.”

“I shan't allow that.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Take a seat.”

“I said-”

“No. Not another word.”

“But-“

“What did I just say.”

He ushers you to the velvet couch and finds a conveniently placed blanket nearby to wrap around you.

“Um…”

“What is the matter?”

“You’re acting like a doting mother.”

“I suppose I am.”

You share a laugh, his one much more muffled, and he leaves, “I’ll be right back [Reader]”.

The fireplace in front of you dances warmly.

Dancing…oh yes, there was going to be a ball tomorrow. Apparently, Lord Diavolo hosts it every year.

What do you wear? You don’t have anything nice to wear and there isn’t any time to buy anything. Maybe you can borrow something from Asmodeus?

“I brought you a drink.”

Barbatos elegantly pours a generous amount of a deep scarlet liquid from a well-polished bottle (which seems that it could be the price of your home) and then one for himself.

“What is it?”

As he hands it to you, you smell a thick aroma of red wine and spices. The glass heats your frozen fingertips. However nice the feeling of warmth or even the gesture, you can’t accept it. You don’t like alcohol.

“I’m sorry, I’m not really keen on alcohol.”

“Oh, I see,” he takes both wine glasses in his hand, and sets them on a table just as gracefully as he had made the drinks, “Ah right, I see that an alcoholic beverage wouldn’t have necessarily helped anyway, it would have left you dehydrated. Would you prefer something smoother? Like hot chocolate?”

“Yes, I would love that. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“It would be my pleasure. How are you feeling?”

“I told you earlier, I’m fin-“

It was the most inconvenient time to sneeze, but it’s not like you could hold it in.

“I didn’t want you getting in a state of unwell, especially the day before Lord Diavolo’s ball, now here we are. Humans get sick so easily…”

“I’m not sick, it was just a sneeze.”

“It’s a sign of the nasty presence of a virus and although it may have been dispersed through the sneeze, we don’t want to take the risk of late treatment. I’ll get your drink. You need warmth.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

After a long night of indecision on treatment of your oncoming cold, warm drinks and conversation, you decide to retire to your room.

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

“Do you feel better now?”

You’ve given up explaining that it really was just a sneeze, so you just go along with it now.

“Yes. Night night!”

“Goodnight.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

The day of the ball. (Of course, this is how all romantic party settings are set to be described.)

You feel like a princess. Not that you have the clothing for it, but you feel like Cinderella - who technically didn't have a dress either.

You remember one of the topics of conversation with Barbatos last night:

“Ah, I don’t even have a dress! What am I gonna do?”

“I can find one for you.”

“Would you really?”

“I have the capability of doing so, yes.”

“So last minute?”

“…being completely honest, I've had one prepared for you already.”

“What? For how long exactly?”

“The day after the power cut, when the ball was first announced.”

“Why?”

“I thought you might not have anything due to your abrupt arrival here.”

“Well, you were right. You’re always right.”

“Am I?”

He really is.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll see if the attire I chose for you suits you as much as I thought it would, then I will count it as being ‘always right.’”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

He hasn’t given you the dress yet. You wonder when it will arrive.

Just then, you notice something in the corner of your eye, hung on your wardrobe door.

It’s red. Your favourite colour. How did he know?

A label attached reads:

“The red compliments your complexion really well and matches the theme of the ball. I do hope you find it suitable.

Signed, Barbatos. x ��

Kiss. A kiss at the end.

But what has captured your attention more is how perfect the dress really is.

It’s like he knew you’d always wanted to wear a dress such as this one, and also how you don’t like to show off.

It’s the perfect line between elegance, glamour and comfort both physically and socially.

It’s perfect.

He’s always right.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

The ball passes, not quickly, not slowly, but just how something enjoyable would pass by in the present.

You find yourself first at the buffet, as all parties should start with a satisfied stomach (the devil fondue was especially good, but your favourite was the dark chocolate berries from the human world), then in newfound confidence, you join the brothers to dance.

Mammon is the first to snatch you. It’s only natural, as he was your first.

Satan and Mammon have a row, in which you have to break apart, only to be stolen by Asmodeus.

In the final spin with Asmo, you find yourself in between Beelzebub and Belphegor, Belphie being a surprisingly good dancer, despite seeming lazy (Beel, not so much.)

Taken by the waist, Simeon guides you to Solomon whilst dancing (quite horribly, but it’s at a tremendous effort at the very least), and Solomon dips you, most likely having stolen the move from a dance show back in the human world.

Luke asks to dance, and you let him spin you, before you realise you are now in the centre of the ballroom again.

Lucifer asks to dance. Diavolo asks to dance.

Where is Barbatos?

Yes, it was great having everyone fight for your attention; you felt adored and appreciated. It was fun.

But why did you care so much about Barbatos? He was all you could think about.

“[Reader], are you okay? You seem to be getting tired?”

“Sorry, Diavolo.”

“It’s alright.”

He guides you to the balcony.

“Perhaps get some quiet here.”

The cool breeze feels nice.

“I have to keep an eye on our guests. Have a great evening.”

“Thank you, you too.”

All the dancing has left you in a sweat, so you don’t notice the cold.

Your mind inevitably drifts back to the thought of Barbatos. He’s probably helping with serving guests.

How romantic would it be that he joins you on the balcony? The lights of distant homes and of the decorations you had put up with him, colours moulding together, only your eyes on him, and his eyes on you.

Not everything is convenient like that, unfortunately. But wouldn’t it be so romantic?

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

“[Reader]”

“I was looking for you .”

Noticing your obsessive thoughts earlier, you had gone looking for Barbatos. You’re not surprised at all that you found him in the kitchen, sorting out drinks. However, what does surprise you is his lack of formality as he leans against the countertop, hand on his forehead.

He’s stressed.

“My apologies, you haven’t caught me at the right time.”

He stands upright.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m quite alright.”

“Now, this is one of the moments where you’re wrong.”

He remains silent.

“You’re stressed aren’t you? I’m sure Lord Diavolo won’t mind if you take a break. There’s many other servers.”

Just as you say that, one walks in the room.

“I’ll take those drinks, Barbatos!”

This is definitely more conveniently timed than your sneeze earlier.

“Are you certain? All right.”

“So, Barbatos. How about that break?” you break in before he has even the slightest chance to start making new drinks.

“Alright, fine. Only because it’s you. Humans are so persistent that it's bothersome.”

“Sure.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

What’s the best way to relax?

“Barbatos, what do you want to do on your break?”

“First of all, I would like to tell you how stunning you look tonight.”

“Me? Really? I’m like a speck of dust compared to all of the other beautiful people in this hall.”

“I haven’t noticed. I seem to only have eyes for you.”

“That was horribly cringey.”

“I am aware. I evoke that statement.”

“Second of all, would you like to-“

Before he can finish, a drunken Asmo latches onto you.

“Hey, little lamb, are you enjoying the ball?”

“You’ve had way too much alcohol, Asmodeus, you reek of it,” Barbatos cuts in, pulling him off of you, somehow making it seem way less awkward. “I’m sorry, [Reader], allow me to quickly hand Asmodeus to Lucifer’s or Solomon's care.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

Over the night, Barbatos keeps getting interrupted. He always manages to find you, but every time he does, he seems to end up working again.

“What happened to your break?”

“I am truly sorry, [Reader].”

You feel horrible.

Surely one moment away won’t cause havoc, right?

“Come with me.”

No guts to grab his hand, but you make sure to look behind you to see if he follows you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

Your wine red dress trails in the snow as you head to the outside gazebo.

Barbatos attempts to pick it up, but you tell him it’s fine.

“You need to relax. It’s a party. I know you’re working, but still. You should enjoy it too.”

Only now do you notice his attire is a bit different to usual.

“Is that a new suit?”

“Yes. Lord Diavolo wouldn’t let me have it any other way.”

“It looks really good on you.”

“Thank you.”

“What did you want to do on your break earlier, before we were so rudely interrupted…many times…”

“I wanted to ask, would you like to dance?”

“Oh, well it’s a bit late for that now. The ball is just about to end, and we’re outside now. And I bet we’ll be interrupted when we go back in again.”

“I wanted to dance with you. I don’t necessarily need music to do so. I’ve been left waiting for quite a while now so I really don’t care so much about the environment we will be in to do so anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

One step. Two steps. In elegance you glide. His confident hands trail your lower back as he pulls you close to him.

Once again you notice breaths puffing out like a dragon, the warmth of his meeting your cheeks. Noses just barley apart, he feels cold.

“Are you cold now?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“It feels awkward without music.”

“I can hear it from afar, can’t you?”

“I can’t really focus on that right now.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

“We’re…very close right now.”

“This is the manner in which you dance with someone at such a formal gathering, is it not?”

“Very close.”

He pulls away, and lets you spin.

“Apologies. I suppose I was cold and had to hold you closer.”

“You just said you weren’t!”

“Fine.”

As you twirl once more he catches you and you hear the music in the distance stop.

“That was the last dance.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to stop, does it?“

“Just how desperate were you to dance with me?”

“The whole night. Perhaps more.”

You pull out your D.D.D and it starts blasting a really embarrassing song.

“Shit- Sorry. Whoops. Ignore that. Um, give me a song.”

“I quite liked the sound of that one.”

“You’re joking. Give me a classical one, like the ones being played in the hall.”

He recommends a song.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

After your dance, the snow gets heavier. You’re trapped under the gazebo now. With him.

What a cliché! You can’t believe your luck!

“How was my dancing skills?”

“Marvellous.”

“Of course-“

Mocking a face of arrogance, you look up. But…

There’s mistletoe.

“You hadn’t noticed before?”

“And you had?!”

“Oh gosh. Alright.”

You notice his hand as it rides up your arm. His eyes deepen in affection.

He leans in.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“If you insist.”

“I insist.”

And colours blend as you wanted it to.

It's only your eyes on him, and his eyes on you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆

End author’s note: I hope you enjoyed! I posted this just in time for Christmas…Happy holidays and have an amazing new year! 🎆

Speaking of new years, that reminds me of fireworks…hey, this is shameful advertising but check out my Diavolo fic based on fireworks. 🥰 LMAOO

#obey me #obey me fic #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me shall we date #fanfic #ao3 author #fanfiction #obey me fanfic #om! barbatos #christmas fluff #fluff fic

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topnotchquark · 1 year ago

Text

Okay fine I wrote my first bit of Bezz x Cele boarding school au! It's like 900 words and more world building/slow burn oriented than anything else. Please read and leave comments/asks (it's my first time writing any fiction and I did it at 3am on my phone so pls forgive me)

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Cele tries to slip out quitely from the doors but the old hinges creak. He stops for a moment to breathe the air that's steadily been cooling for the past week. He hears someone coming down the stairs, and feels a vague relief when it's just Luca.

"Where are you off to?" Cele asks.

"Going for a run"

"Is bezz in the room?"

"yep, he's awake"

Cele nods but Luca doesn't really wait for the response. Cele watches him skip down the stairs and go off in the dimly lit direction of the gymnasium and he slowly climbs the stairs up, limbs heavy.

The upperclassmen get to live in rooms, a little bit of privacy afforded after doing their times in the lord of flies~esque environment that is the dormitory. Cele finds himself opening the door to Bezz and Luca's room without thinking where he's going.

The lights are off except for the desk lamp, Bezz with his back to the door is scribbling something furiously. His arm is shaking just fast enough to make his curls look animated. Cele peers over his shoulder and finds him sketching some sort of a figure in his notebook.

"What's up" bezz asks without stopping.

Cele lies down on Bezz's bed wordlessly and stares out of the window situated above the headboard. Bezz turns around in his chair and pokes his dull pencil into the soft upper part of cele's arm.

"Ow" Cele protests without enthusiasm.

"You didn't tell me what's up"

"Can't sleep"

"Are you hungry?"

"Nuh-uh"

Bezz turns back around to his godforsaken sketch and for a minute Cele stares out the window at the poplar tree thicket sway gently in the wind, the scratch of the pencil a meditative hum in the background.

"Bezz"

"Hm"

"Do you have some water in the room?"

"Uh... No"

"Can you get me some?"

Bezz nods, picks up a bottle from Luca's desk and steps out.

Cele came to the school on a sports scholarship, a few months shy of his 10th birthday. His mum fretted about the many things that could go horribly wrong but Cele did just fine. No sudden complaints of nightmares or any drastic change in behaviour or mystery illnesses that usually cropped up in children who were simply too homesick. Cele never fully blended into the obsessive competitive environment of the team, but nobody could really fault his skill and everyone eventually warned up to him enough to realise he just needed some space and to follow his own instincts.

Bezz had been his first friend at the school despite being his older teammate. Cele had heard stories of how much boys loved torturing each other and his parents had made him promise to tell them if anyone ever hurt him and that they would protect him, but he imprinted on Bezz like a baby duck and since everyone liked Bezz they left his strange, pensive friend alone.

When he gets back to the room, Bezz is rubbing his eyes. He hands the bottle to Cele, who sits up to drink. Cele tips the bottle just a bit too far and water spills down his neck and soaks the collar of his t shirt, Bezz instinctively reaches his hand out and swipes it on Cele's exposed, tipped back neck. It's an innocent gesture, he just meant to wipe away the water, but Cele feels it with an intensity that moves down to the pit of his stomach.

Cele ignores the feeling, squashing it the best he can, and lies back down. Bezz tells him to scoot and he does, shuffling his hips awkwardly till he's at the edge. Bezz lies down next to him on his stomach, and the lengths of their bodies are joined together on the bed meant for one person.

Cele breathes and his lungs are filled with that mix of generic deodrant, sweat, and distinct day 2 of shampoo hair that he has come to associate with the boy he's known since he came here.

They speak about nothing in particular, Cele on his back looking up at the face positioned above him, Bezz's big hair blocking out the lamp light, giving him the illusion of a halo.

Cele is in the middle of ranting to Bezz about the argument he had with his Botany teacher when Bezz gently touches the side of Cele's face. It's not forceful but it's sudden enough to make Cele feel pinned down.

"How did this happen?" Bezz asks while peering at the spot behind Cele's ear.

"Some sort of bug. Haven't been able to identify which one yet but the bite was itchy." At first the itch felt good to scratch, the pleasure just enough to keep you going, till the pleasure tips a bit too far and Cele was left with ripped skins and red splotches.

Bezz gently touches the area with the dull tips of his fingers, delicately pushing away the curls that grow behind his ears. Cele feels ill. It's like his heart muscles are taut and somehow spreading heat through him like poison. Cele turns his face back to stare at Bezz's face, his brown eyes have a warmth that is nothing new, but it unsettles him all the same.

There is that delicate, knife edge moment where he feels like his heartbeat will drive him deaf inside his head as he stares at bezz's imploring eyes.

"Hello guys" Luca bursts into the room, frantic post run energy intact in his body.

Bezz turns away and Cele breathes after what feels like an eternity.

#sorry I am trying to get the characterisation right I know its not excellent rn but I'm trying #open to thoughts and criticism!#my cele characterisation revolves a lot around the place and him having grown up with bezz but turns out I am a bulky writer #I just want them to kiss your honour #I was supposed to be in bed at 11 but I am yaoi posting at this godforsaken hour #anyway if you enjoy it let me know and please leave questions if you would like to #bezz x cele #bezz/cele #cele/bezz #bezz #cele #marco bezzechi #celestino vietti #vr46 academy #bezz x cele boarding school au #rpf #motogp rpf

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 2 years ago

Text

Kicho's Main Story Chapter 8 Part 2

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

Unable to stop Kicho, I was left in the cabin, the slight sound of his footsteps getting further and further away.

Subordinate 1: "Wait here. We'll call you back when we get the boat ready."

Mai: "No, it's okay. More importantly, I need to talk to Kicho."

Subordinate 2: "We can't let you do that. That would go against his orders."

Subordinate 2: "Don't worry, you'll be safe on the ship. Lord Kicho will definitely come back."

Mai: "Are you sure about that?"

Mai: "Riots are going on all over the place right now, so he might get caught in it."

Mai: "I don't think there is any safety or guarantee in this situation."

(People will continue to get hurt because of his actions, and he'll suffer even more by indirectly taking people's lives.)

(I wanted to stop him, but I failed. I’m so useless.)

Subordinate 1: "Relax. He'll be fine."

Subordinate 2: "He’s right. You need to follow his orders if you don't want to slow him down."

Subordinate 2: "Anyway, just be quiet for a minute."

With these words, Kicho's men left, leaving me alone on the floor.

(What was the right thing to tell him?)

(My heart is overflowing with feelings for him, but they remain stuck in the back of my throat, unable to come out as words.)

I was left with nothing but regrets.

Changing the present could change the future, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t change the past.

(What the hell should I do now?)

Mai: “----!”

(This feeling again!?)

My vision wavered, and the back of my throat tightened, making it hard for me to breathe.

(This is bad. I’m starting to faint again.)

At that moment, I felt as if I had felt the presence of rain on my skin.

???: “...ey…”

(Whose voice is that?)

???: “Hey…is…”

(Is he talking to me?)

(Then I have to open my eyes.)

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a dark room.

Mai: “Huh!?”

It was only after I hurriedly sat up and looked around that I realized it was just a regular Japanese-style room.

(What’s with this dark and small room?)

(Did I get transported here while I was passed out?)

Come to think of it, they were talking about taking me inside the ship, but it looked like they took me to a weird room.

(I can’t see well. It looks like my eyes still haven’t adjusted. I wonder if there’s anything I could use to light the place up.)

When I got up and tried to explore the room一

???: “Hey, big sis.”

Mai: "Kyaah!?"

When I turned my head, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest when I saw a kid sitting, clutching his knees in the back of the room.

???: "What on earth are you doing?"

Mai: "U-Um..."

(Why is there a kid here?)

Mai: "It's dark, so I thought I'd look for a lamp. More importantly, who are you?"

Nohime: "I'm Nohime."

Mai: "Nohime!?"

I could hardly believe my ears.

(I think that's Kicho's sister's name.)

(I heard she's already dead, but this kid looks very young.)

The girl, who introduced herself as "Nohime," was dressed in a beautiful kimono and had a thin line of rouge on her lips.

Her face was young but strikingly beautiful, and her hazel-green eyes shone brightly in the darkness.

(Her eyes look so strong.)

(I've never met Nohime herself, but一)

Mai: "Kicho?"

Nohime: "----!"

Nohime sprung to her feet in response to my mumbling.

Nohime: "What did you just say?"

(Oh, I see. They're siblings, so of course, she knows about him, too.)

Mai: "I said, Kicho. He's your twin brother, right?"

Nohime: “Yes, but how could you know that when it’s supposed to be a secret inside this castle?”

Mai: “Well, for various reasons.”

Nohime: “I see. Then you’re here for me?”

Mai: “Huh?”

Suddenly, Nohime’s voice lowered, and her tone became more piercing.

(Did she just say “me”?)

Mai: “Are you Kicho, not Nohime?”

Kicho: “You came here knowing that, didn’t you? Someone must have ordered you to come here.”

Mai: “No. I just woke up and found myself here.”

Mai: “And the Kicho I know is much older and more mature.”

Kicho: “.............”

(What should I do? He’s being extremely cautious.)

I sat upright so as not to look suspicious and accepted his gaze as he stared at me intently.

(Let’s get things straight first.)

(There’s no doubt that this person is Kicho.)

I normally wouldn’t believe this sort of thing, but I’ve experienced time slipping once.

If I was to guess, a wormhole probably appeared and transported me back to the past.

(Sasuke told me that he disappeared, so it’s a pretty unreasonable assumption, but it all makes sense.)

(Though, if I suddenly start talking about the future here, I’ll probably lose even more credibility.)

Mai: “Um, Kicho?”

Kicho: “What?”

Mai: “I’m not a suspicious person.”

Mai: “I just want to repay your relative who helped me before. That's why I came here to ask the people of this castle if I can take care of you.”

Kicho: “What you said earlier is different.”

Mai: “That’s because I just woke up. My memory was a little fuzzy.”

Mai: “Anyway, I’m not lying to you, so please trust me.”

Keeping my back straight, I looked straight into his eyes.

(The room is small, dark, and lonely, just like he told me.)

(Now that I’ve traveled back here, I’d like to at least be there for him and do what I can to help.)

Kicho: *sigh*

He sighed and sat down.

Kicho: “Okay.”

Mai: "Do you believe me?"

Kicho: "I don't believe you. But you won't kill me because you wouldn't sleep openly in this room."

Mai: "Yup, that's right!"

(Good thing I was out cold.)

I almost collapsed in my seat as I felt relieved from the bottom of my heart.

Mai: "Anyway, it's already late, so why don't you go to sleep?"

Mai: "Sleep is important. They say a child who sleeps grows up."

Kicho: "............"

Mai: "Or maybe you're having trouble sleeping? Shall I sing you a lullaby then?"

Kicho: "It's morning now."

Mai: "Wait, morning?"

Mai: "Sorry. It's so dark. I thought it was already evening!"

Kicho: "............"

(Crap, he's being cautious again!)

This is how I ended up spending time with a kid with zero trust in me.

Mai: "O-sen-be-ya-ke-ta-ka-na?"

Mai: "Oh, it's you again. Please turn your hand over."

Kicho: "Sure."

Mai: "Okay, I'll go next. O-sen-be-ya一"

Kicho: "Hey. What's this for?"

[TN: This is a Japanese game.]

Mai: "What do you mean what's this for? It's for fun. The two hands we are holding out together like this are all rice crackers."

Mai: "While singing "O-sen-be-ya-ke-ta-ka-na," I'll count by tapping the backs of our hands, in turn, with my other hand."

Mai: "If I stop counting at na, the rice cracker is baked on one side, so turn your hand over (palm up). If the second na stop at it again, the rice crackers are baked on both sides."

Mai: "The first person whose rice crackers are baked in both hands wins."

Kicho: "With a rule like that, you can usually tell who wins and loses by which move they start."

Mai: "Oh, right."

Kicho: "Is this game played by two people?"

Mai: "No, I don't think so."

(He's clever even as a kid.)

Mai: "This hand game is no good. What else is there to do?"

I wanted to enjoy something together to close the distance between our hearts, but the only thing in the room was the bare minimum of furniture and books.

(The only other things I can think of are rock-paper-scissors and 10,000 feet in the Alps.)

(But we can't do that forever.)

Scratching my head, I saw him withdraw his hands and take a book near him.

Kicho: "You don't have to be so concerned. I'm used to spending time alone."

Mai: "Okay. Then I'll be quiet not to disturb your reading."

After a few hours, the food is brought into the room, and I watch him and the maid as I hide in the shadows.

Kicho: "..........."

Maid: "..........."

(Even when he has the opportunity to interact with people, he doesn't talk at all.)

The maid quickly finished serving the meal and left the room without saying a single word.

(Phew, I'm glad I didn't get caught.)

Kicho: "You, doesn't your job as a caretaker include preparing meals?"

Mai: "I'm still in training, so I'm not allowed to do that yet."

Kicho: "Why were you hiding then?"

Mai: "That maid is my senior. I was hiding because I didn’t want to bother her."

Kicho pointed to the bowl for some reason.

Kicho: “If you were going to poison me, now’s the time to do it.”

Mai: “I wouldn’t do that!”

Mai: “If you’re so wary, why didn’t you tell the maid earlier?”

Kicho: “That’s...”

He started saying something, then suddenly stopped, looked away from me, and began to eat.

(I wonder what he was going to say.)

I was curious, but was in no mood to ask.

(I couldn’t do anything for him, even though I’m right here.)

(I mean, it’s impossible to help him if we’re just in the same room.)

Kicho: “Ugh...”

Mai: “!”

He suddenly dropped the bowl he was holding in his hand.

(Could it be poison!?)

I rushed over to him, rubbed his little back, and looked into his face.

Mai: “Are you okay? I’ll call someone.”

Kicho: “It’s nothing. I just got dizzy.”

Mai: “Still, I’ll call someone just in case. If something happens to you, it’ll be too late.”

Mai: “If something happens to you, I...”

Kicho: “............”

He grabbed my sleeve to hold me back as I tried to get up.

Kicho: “Stay here.”

Kicho: “You’re the caretaker. That’s all I need.”

Mai: “I understand. But if it keeps getting worse, I’ll call someone.”

I tucked him under the covers and put my hand on his forehead.

(He seems to have a slight fever. I’m still worried even if he says it’s nothing.)

As I watched him, his thinly lidded eyes turned to me.

Kicho: “I caught a cold the other day. Maybe it’s just a relapse.”

Mai: “Then, it would’ve been better if you had told them.”

Kicho: “It’s useless. No one will come unless it’s something serious.”

Kicho: “Besides, I don’t want to make a fuss and have someone else find out I exist.”

(Right. Kicho lives as Nohime.)

(Though, I can’t believe he would put up with being sick all by himself at such a young age.)

It was painful to watch him give up help from those around him like it was normal.

Kicho: “By the way, what were you going to say earlier?”

Mai: “Earlier?”

Kicho: “If something happens to me, what will happen to you?”

Mai: “Oh, you mean that? I wonder what.”

Kicho: “You said it yourself, yet you don’t know?”

Mai: “Yup, but I can tell you one thing一I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Mai: “I feel so sad that I can’t even imagine what would happen to you.”

Kicho: “Why are you sad that something is happening to me?”

Mai: “Easy. Because I care about you.”

Mai: "I can't tell you about the details, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't pry."

Kicho: "Okay. Then, that's enough."

When he said all that, he turned away from me and looked up at the ceiling, his eyes a little bit teary because of the fever.

Mai: "Um, Kicho?"

Mai: "I’ll stay by your side tonight, so please don't worry."

Kicho: "Worry?"

Mai: "You feel more anxious when you're sick."

Mai: "I know you don't trust me yet, but if it's okay with you, I'll be by your side."

Kicho: ".............."

Kicho stared at me for a moment, then pulled his hand out of the covers.

Kicho: "If you hold my hand, I'll know you're here."

Kicho: "That's the only thing I can trust."

(Kicho...)

Mai: "I understand. Then..."

I lightly squeezed his small hand, and he squeezed it back slightly.

That alone spread warmth in my chest.

(I wish I could stay like this forever.)

(Hm?)

Before I knew it, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Mai: "Good night. Kicho."

(Oh...)

After a few hours, his eyelids trembled, and his eyes slowly opened.

Mai: “Good morning. You look much better.”

Mai: “Do you feel any discomfort in any part of your body? Throat, joints...”

Kicho: “No, I’m fine.”

He shook his head and stared at me curiously.

Kicho: “Have you been awake the whole time?”

Mai: “Your condition may suddenly change, so, yeah.”

Mai: “I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better.”

Kicho: “Yeah.”

Mai: “I’ll help you get ready.”

I stood up and pulled out a change of clothes I had found during the night.

Mai: “Here you go. You can change your clothes. I’ll keep my back to you.”

Mai: “You were sweating a lot, so you will get cold if you stay like that.”

Kicho: “Okay.”

I turned to the other side and immediately heard a shuffling sound.

The sound didn’t stop at all, showing how adept he was at this.

Kicho: “I’m done.”

Mai: “Good. Well then, I’ll leave your kimono near the doorway, along with last night’s meal.”

Kicho: “I can do that much by myself.”

Mai: “No, you can’t. You’re sick.”

I quickly carried it and then sat down in front of him with the rouge that was next to his kimono.

Mai: "Most of the rouge has fallen off. Do you want me to give you another one?"

Kicho: "Of course. You never know when someone might see me."

Mai: "Okay. Then, I’ll do it."

Kicho: "You?"

He tilted his head curiously and lifted his chin.

(I guess this means it's okay?)

I put some rouge on the tip of the brush and carefully brushed it on his lips.

(This room was thoroughly furnished only with things a girl would have to hide his presence.)

(But it's also something that keeps him alive.)

Mai: "Done."

Kicho: "You drew it so carefully."

Mai: "You did this for me before, so this is my way of repaying it."

Mai: "I also did it while showing how important you are."

Kicho: "I don't understand. You and I just met yesterday."

Mai: "Hehe, you did, didn't you?"

Giggling, I got up to put the rouge away when一

Clack!

(Oh, it looks like someone is outside the room. I wonder if the maid is here to serve the meal.)

Not wanting to be seen, I hurriedly hid in the shadows.

Soon I heard the sound of a lock being removed. After that, the door opened, and a large man entered.

(Huh?)

The moment I saw Kicho's face tense up, alarm bells went ringing in my head.

(Could it be that this guy is...?)

Man: "As I thought, one of the twins survived."

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#ikemen sengoku #ikesen kicho #ikesen kichou #ikesen jp #ikesen #ikesen spoilers #ikesen translations #cybird

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bytes-and-blessings · 1 year ago

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Smuggling Hope - Inklings Challenge 2023

So I signed up to do a little writing challenge this year called the @inklings-challenge! Which you can read more about here: https://inklings-challenge.tumblr.com/about Basically, I've had story ideas in my head for as long as I can remember. Now I finally found something to give me a kick in the pants to write. Maybe this is the first draft to the first chapter of my first novel ever. Maybe I never touch this story again. Who knows? not me.... But without further ado, welcome to the first installment of what I currently call "The Beacon Universe" (Actual name TBD) -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Nia Twig woke up at the wheel her ship to the sound of a proximity alarm.

BEEP EEP EEP!

There was message from an incoming ship.

“This is gate border checkpoint Theta-Sigma-Alpha-5, please prepare for boarding with your itinerary, ship registration, and passenger manifest. Failure to cooperate with border patrol will be reported to Zytharian authorities and may result in fines or arrest. Thank you, and Glory to the Emperor.”

Nia groaned and scrambled out of her pilots chair to prepare for the inspection. As she walked through the ship she stashed away a box of stuff from back home and placed it under her bed, with a menstrual garment and some pain pills on top to keep any searchers from touching it. Looking around the area, there was a torn piece of paper that she though she had drunkenly thrown in the incinerator months ago:

The oath and way of the Beacons are as THE LORD once declared: “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lamp stand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light so shin-”

Nia was interrupted in her distracted readings by the ship’s alarm system again:

~~~~~WARNING ~~~~ AIRLOCK ENGAGED ~~~~ INTRUDER ALERT~~~~~

“Computer! Stall’em!” She yelled out. The ship’s AI wasn’t anything fancy, but it could pretend to have just enough dysfunction to slow down anyone trying to board. (Or with any luck, kill anyone in a rush via asphyxiation so she could claim it was an accident. Technology sucks, right?)

She stuffed the paper in her pocked and climbed down to the hold. At the bottom, she reached behind the ladder and flipped a leaver.

A few of the crates started to lower into a hidden compartment beneath.

“Come on, come on, move you stupid thing” Nia slammed her foot against the floor.

Suddenly the mechanism squeaked to a halt.

She could hear the boarder ship’s airlock finish connecting to The Night’s Reverie. She’d have to greet the Inspector at any minute, or else the rest of his people’s fleet would show up and blow them both out of the sky.

She dove below the boxes, and started to hunt around. In the tangled mess of wires, there was a stray piece of jerky stuck between the gears. Nia couldn’t quite reach through the gap to catch it.

BANG BANG BANG

Someone was knocking on the other end of the airlock doors, trying to gain entry. If she didn’t let them it, it was going to be a firefight, but if the fuzz caught sight was what was in these crates, well, she’d have bigger problems.

The Captain pulled out a lighter with the symbol of a white bird in flight carved into it.

A small flame springs out with a flick of the flint, she barely has a moment to enjoy the feeling of the flames dancing in her control before she shoots it to knock the jerky out of place. She immediately threw the lighter up onto the main deck, then turned herself into a small flame and landed on the deck as the boxes almost crash into their compartment, crushing the area where she had just been an instant ago. The false floor slid over the contraband as the captain punched in the code to open the airlock for her unwanted guests.

“Still not going to be a Beacon, but Uncle’s old lighter trick is handy in a pinch.” She thought to herself as she punched the intercom button to speak to the visitor waiting in the airlock. “This is the Captain of the ship speaking, who is there?”

A posh voice responded, “Captain Glory Ashwell, are you in there? This is Inspector Zimri Klerk, of the His Greatness’s Most Noble and Important Hyperlane Border Inspections Agency. I am here to proceed with a random inspection of your ship. I assume you have your paperwork in order and are ready for inspection, Captain?” a

From the voice, Nia expected someone much taller on the other side of the airlock. Instead standing there was an short and fat man in a faded but finely pressed dress uniform. He stood proud before her not a piece of his balding silver hair was out of place. His mustache was curled perfectly at the ends, looking at it was almost like looking at a second pair of eyes. At his left side he held a bright red cane with the Empire dragon snarling at it’s head, like forgotten Celtic letterhead come to life. In his right hand he somehow managed to hold both a clipboard and a lit cigar.

Nia cleared her throat, and then addressed the man. “Ah yes Sir, as you can see here on my manifest, my ship, The Kobold is just on a routine courier run to the middle systems of the Empire. If we could make this quick, my clients are very important people with urgent business, Captain. They’ve waited long enough for these goods.”

“Very well Captain. Let’s keep this quick shall we.” He took a puff of the cigar and stormed past her onto the ship.

It may have been the longest inspection she had lived through in her entire life.

He poked in the flight room.

He tapped his cane all around her living quarters.

He crawled under the sink.

He licked the dust between the crates.

He even accidentally knocked out a fake wall Nia didn’t know the ship had.

By the end of it, he looked less like a man to her, and more like some cross between a relentless hound dog, and a relentless hound dog breathing tobacco smoke from his lungs. An evil, fire-breathing dog of war armed with a clipboard of wrath and health code violations.

Finally, it was almost over. Inspector Zimiri stood right next to the holds ladder and put away his pen.

“Well, everything looks fine here, as long as you don’t have any rebel contraband under here then I’ll be on my way.”

With a single motion, he flipped the hidden switch with his cane and stepped aside to reveal the contraband crates.

A moment pasted, then a second as the crates were slowly lifted by the traitorous mechanism. Neither person seamed to move or breath for a second. Finally Nia let out a long sigh, and pulled out a wad of bills from her inner coat pocket.

She faked a smile, and tried to approach the Inspector congenially,“Look here friend, there’s nothing harmful here. It’s just some luxury goods I need to keep extra protected for a client in Casino Monte. Some rich dude wants camping supplies to reenact some ancient survivalist U-tuber. Bear Gorillas or something? I don’t know man, can’t we just figure this out? It’s not like it’s weapons or anything, you know, right?” She said, holding out the bribe money.

The Inspector let out a deep sigh. He leaned his cane against the wall. Then he removed his glasses and began to methodically clean them. For a moment Nia could swear he tapped a button on his jacket. The little man straighten up to glare at her. The cigar smoke began to fog up his glasses once more and reflect the dim light of the ship. The Captain began to back away from the twin burning suns staring at her from his glasses.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

He walked over and opened the first crate to find a stack of water bottles, blankets, and food with single stuffed goose sat on top of the pile of goods.

“We both know that there’s no way a ship of this size has the fuel to get to the destination on your manifest.” He waved the faked papers in the air, “You’re more likely to drop out of the hyperlane somewhere above the Miser-Cordia system. Right where his Greatness’s Military has currently blockaded a group of those traitorous followers of the Beacon’s Path and the foolish civilians roped up in their little games. Do you think I didn’t realize from the moment your little star skipper left the hyperbridge that figured out that you were carrying the most dangerous weapon known to man inside?”

He dropped the cigar and waved the stuffed goose in the air, as if demonstrating his point.

“My good captain, it appears to me that you are smuggling hope.”

Nia whipped out her pistol and pointed it at him. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you are. And I don’t care. As I was saying, I’m not smuggling weapons, or drugs, or slaves, or any of the other fucked up shit that all of your friends turn a blind eye to every day for a couple of creds. So unless your sanctimonious pride and your thin wallet is more important than your life, maybe grow some brains out of that mustache. I’m not a Rebel. I just see a demand and I fill it. I don’t care about your stupid wars, buddy. This is just business. Just take your cut of creds like every other self serving sleaze bag in the galaxy, and let me go.” She insisted, probably too firmly. But Nia didn’t care, her pulse was in her throat and she could feel fire aching at her fingertips for the first time in years. This was about to go south, fast.

Still brandishing her pistol, Nia took in the sight of the little inspector. She had to keep her gun arm pointed down at an awkward angle to place the muzzle beneath his nose. When he wasn’t running around her ship, it was easier to see that this man only reached her shoulder. His mustache barely twitched at the sensation of cold metal. He dropped the goose back into it’s box. With it fell the clipboard. His fingers twitched for the cigar that had once been in his hand. Suddenly, the man before her wasn’t a robotic inspector of a dictator anymore. The cold glare in his eyes had softened into something still determined, but also seemingly defeated. Like the last blue flame of a dying fire. He reached down to pick up the cigar again.

“I have to say, I am quite disappointed in you, Miss Philomena Bryne.” He said, letting the smoke blow into Nia’s face. He grabbed onto a pin on his lapel, and broke it. Nia could see a few ripped wires leaving what she could now see had been a wiretap. “We both know you don’t need that toy to turn me to ash, so let’s drop the pretense, hm?”

“That’s not my name, that girl is dead. Who are you, and how do you know her?” She backed off, but kept the pistol high.

“Ah my mistake Captain,” He said, reaching up to scratch his lip. “Here I was, under the impression that I had caught up with a great Beacon of Old: A mythical group of people who could take flight in the stars without a ship, a Peace Keeper, a great Defender of the innocent, a living flame in the galaxy’s eternal night. I thought I was tracking a relic of a forgotten era of Crusades and Caped Heroes; one who was stuck in a universe that has progressed beyond, or perhaps, sunken below religion. And now l see that I have found a jaded business woman looking to profit off another’s misfortune, no? I had hoped that anyone with your flame, who could incurs such wrath of my employees and countrymen, could be nothing less than a saint. But if it’s business you want, then it’s business you’ll get I suppose. You can come out now, my dear.”

Zimiri Klerk tapped his cigar against the wall of the ship, and out of the embers emerged a young girl who could almost have been Philomena's cousin. But her hair soon changed from fire red to pale blonde. She was even shorter and thinner than the man next to her. Nia quickly realized that this was most likely the Inspector’s daughter. Her eyes were the same jet engine blue as his, and just as sharp.

“I will make a deal with you Captain. Get my daughter out of reach of the Empire's ashy dogs, and anyone else who would make her a living weapon. Then consider your bribe to be paid. Now I must go, my colleges will be looking for me. I’ll buy you what time I can. Good luck, my dear.” Then Zimiri Klerk walked to door of the Night’s Reverie.

“And remember Captain, even if you do not think of yourself a hero, to my daughter, and all of those people trapped on Miser-Cordia, you are the last light of hope.”

#inklings challenge #team lewis #genre: space travel #theme: food #theme: drink #theme: shelter #Bytes Writes

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