#ch: azalea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

5-puthyyy · 7 months ago

Text

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 2

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

It’s hard to know how long you have been following them but with how deep you have gone into the woods it feels as if you are countries away from your Inn. The Sun is still down and the Moon still up, the two gazing at each other as they pass with pure longing but never being able to touch. You follow carefully, not having them in your sight but still finding them with your string of light.

Once you catch sight of a cabin, the light leading past the door, you keep yourself hidden behind a large tree. It’s incredibly strong here, the pull of Magick. You’re shocked no other witch has found this place yet, or tried to at the very least.

It’s a spacious build, likely two stories from the windows you can count, maybe even a basement. The wood seems new, with barely a scratch on it. Beds of flowers are arranged all around, but there are far too many for you to be able to really focus on anything else. You feel drawn enough to them to risk walking towards the cabin just to get a closer glimpse. White magnolia, pink lotus, and marigolds so vivid you can see their colour shining at this hour. But it’s the purple azaleas you find yourself unable to take your eyes off, giving in to the urge to touch a petal, eye fluttering at how soft it feels against your fingertips.

Somehow, you can feel Magick in those very petals calling out to you. Before you have the opportunity to give yourself a scandalous taste of that Magick, a throat clears from your side, startling you into a jump.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Unless I wanted to die. Which I do, sometimes.”

Your eyes lock to the brown-eyed woman standing on the porch by the open door of her cabin. That easy smirk is still on her lips and you can’t help but gaze at them for a moment too long – which she notices, given that her smirk widens even more.

Your lips move in a stutter, unable to say a word of apology despite it sitting at the tip of your tongue. She says nothing as she watches you struggle to come up with an excuse. The woman leans against the ledge of the open door, smirking with wide brown eyes that glimmer in entertainment.

“Oh, I–I cannot believe I did–I am so–I can only offer my apologies for my behaviour, miss, I do not know what possessed me to–”

A soft sigh catches your ears and she emerges from the shadows, through the open door. “You’re frightening the poor girl, my love,” the blue-eyed woman says, voice as smooth and silky as honey as she smiles wickedly.

You’re entranced as you watch her descend the steps slowly, her long, delicate fingers leaving a ghost of a touch on the wooden barrier of the steps. The white nightdress she has on flows with the light breeze, demanding the attention of your eyes that gaze over the intricate lace patterns at its hem. When she reaches the very ground you’re stepping on, she stays there, observing just like her partner with a calculated gleam in those shining blue eyes.

“Frightening?” The other woman speaks up, scoffing as she stomps down the steps, lacking the grace her partner carries. She stands a step in front of her, almost protectively as she crosses her arms, “You are far too trusting,” she grumbles, taking another step further to get closer to you, “She could be here to kill us,” she approaches, circling you like you’re prey, “or worse. She could be here to steal our Magick.”

The penny drops. It’s the confirmation you needed that it wasn’t just in your head, that your skills perhaps aren’t as rusty as you thought. They are witches, they do possess Magick and clearly an extreme amount of it. But you’re not here to steal it. No, you wouldn’t want to, you’re not a witch-killer, you’re the complete opposite of that.

“Train me.”

The words leave your lips before you can even comprehend what you are saying. Both their brows raise high in response, turning to look at each other with amusement.

“Train you? For what, exactly?” The brown-eyed witch asks, curiosity twinged along with the defensiveness in her tone.

Trailing your fingertips along the petals of the flowers, you force yourself to break eye contact to really think about your answer. You know what they’re likely expecting. Train you for power, for control, for revenge. The answers are endless, but that is not what you want. Every witch seeks the highest of powers but you never asked for this. There’s a lot you wanted in your past, but your coven’s banishments forced your wants to be pushed back; everything you’ve known since then has been about what you need. With that in mind, you clear your throat and finally look back up.

“Survival.”

The storm in those blue eyes clears as she takes you in. Your demeanor is nowhere near threatening and you’re aware that you have become somewhat of a shell of yourself. You have forgotten yourself and what makes you happy. The simple use of Magick in your daily life is something you miss, the act itself being too risky. You could not risk exposure.

Seemingly coming to a decision, she turns on her heel and climbs back up the steps, commanding authority in every step. Her partner sighs in defeat, gesturing with her head to you to follow them inside. You look behind you before you do so, remembering the Inn, the regulars, the little community you quickly became a part of. It was safe. You had to hide who you really were, but it was safe.

If life really was about survival, you’d turn and march to your little bedroom, never looking back here again. But you think about the power those two hold, the way the blue-eyed witch looked at you with something akin to a motherly gaze. It could be a trap. They could attack you and take your power the moment you step into their territory. But something inside you is telling you to trust them, just as they have trusted you by letting you in.

You look at the open door again, seeing nothing inside but darkness. Sucking in a deep breath, you take a step forward.

“Good morning, little dove, it’s time to wake up,” the soft voice rouses you from your slumber, a tender touch from a finger brushing over your temple soothing the frustrating blow of being woken up from such a deep sleep. You can’t remember the last time you slept this way, slept this long, slept with no fear of the sound of a group of angry men breaking through your door with pitchforks and fingered accusations.

“Mmm, no, five more minut–” your grumbling sentence is cut short by fingers trailing to your nest of hair, suddenly gripping, pulling, forcing a raspy gasp from the depths of your throat. Your eyes snap open to meet the powerful, controlled gaze of blues darkened by blown-out pupils.

“What was that?” she asks, her tone screaming I dare you to disobey me again. You don’t. Immediately sitting up, you mumble an apology but quickly pull the covers back up your chest, realising your extremely thin nightgown has exposed the hardened buds on your chest. It’s just the cold, you say to yourself, ignoring the flush on your cheeks that says otherwise, “Good. Ready yourself and come out for breakfast.”

There’s no room for debate as she swiftly gets up from the bed, her purple and black long dress waving at you as she walks out of the room shutting the door with a silent thud. You’re once again left alone with your thoughts, letting the covers drop with a sigh. What are you doing with your life? Does it mean this little to you for you to risk it like this?

It takes another minute of regret before you stand up and make your way to the washstand in the corner of your room. You trail your fingertips over the water filled to the brim of that deep bowl, dipping them in and sighing as the warmth of it slowly relaxes you. This will be fine. They let you in, they gave you a room, and they’re making you breakfast at this moment. It’s difficult for you to trust people but you have to try, at the very least.

Once your face is washed, hair neatened, and clothed appropriately, you silently make your way out. The bashfulness in your walk is clear to the pair standing by the small dining table clearly made for four people at the max. There are three bowls of milk porridge and a selection of fruits you’ve never had the pleasure of tasting yet. It’s clear they grow their own crops, and they’re well versed in it considering how lovely their garden looked last night.

“Sit,” the brown-eyed witch commands, taking her own seat as she says so. She sits with her legs spread, dressed in long black pants and a white shirt, a few buttons lazily left open. You cannot keep your eyes off of her, staring for a moment too long at the open cleavage, but you’re snapped out of it by a click of angry fingers.

“She gave you a command. Have you not learnt your lesson?” the blue-eyed witch states, eyes narrowed as she refers to waking you up.

Not wanting to risk another ‘lesson’, you promptly sit down, a blush tainting your cheeks. They both smirk at that, seemingly enjoying the humiliation.

“Eat, and then we will talk,” the blue-eyed witch states and you don’t fail to listen to her words this time, immediately grabbing the spoon set on the side. A few minutes later, you sit back in your chair, happily full and hydrated, sipping the last couple of drops of water left in your cup.

“I take it you enjoyed the fruit?” the brown-eyed woman states, glee in her eyes as you nod, “I have fruit trees in the back. Would you like to see?”

“Not now, Rio.”

“Rio,” you repeat the moment you hear the blue-eyed witch say it, “Is that your name?” It’s an unusual one, definitely uncommon especially in this part of the world.

“And you thought I would be the one to mess up your plans, Agatha,” Rio cackles as Agatha glares at her.

Agatha shrugs it off, switching back to her composed self easily. “Right, well,” she turns to you, “We were going to make you earn our trust before revealing our identities, but I suppose you have been good for us so far, haven’t you?”

The way she says it, her words almost honeyed, hits you right at your core. You shift uncomfortably, unable to speak a word. You can only nod in response, finding it hard to maintain eye contact as she smiles at you knowingly. There’s something cruel yet enticing about her; the way she balances her authority and power with the right amount of sweetness and tenderness…it’s dangerous, and worrying, but you can’t help being intrigued.

“My name is Y/N,” You suddenly spit out, realising that you need to give trust to earn it. Agatha hums in approval and you take that as a sign to continue, “I was banished from my coven by my…by my mother, for my, uh–She claimed I was unable to tame my desires.”

It’s a difficult subject for you to speak on, especially now that you realise you’ve never spoken about it since it happened. You kept it locked inside of you, buried as it festered into a chaotic mess of hurt. But Agatha and Rio’s eyes flash with a look of understanding, and something softer beneath it, and you feel…you feel safe.

“Ah. You come from those types of witches,” Agatha observes, muttering more to herself than to you. Rio clearly sees a conflict of some kind, resting her hand atop Agatha’s on the table, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Those eyes disappear as they flutter shut, taking Rio’s comforting words in before nodding and opening them again.

“I thought…Well, no, I know life is about survival. How else would you get to the end of the road? You must survive and put yourself above all. That’s what I have been doing since my banishment. But I have come to realise that I want…more.”

Rio tilts her head, “More?”

You nod, sighing deeply as she watches you curiously. “Acceptance. Freedom. I want to be who I am, unapologetically.”

It seems those were the exact right words to say as Agatha sucks in a sharp breath, fingers turning white as she grips the edge of the table. Her eyes flutter for a moment before she composes herself.

“We will teach you, little dove, so long as you listen. That is our only condition.”

With that, you nod in acceptance, already awaiting your next instruction. Agatha and Rio turn to each other smiling at your obedience, ignoring your presence for a moment of indulgence. They lean in slowly, their noses brushing together before their lips meet in a tender kiss. You swallow the ball that has suddenly grown in your throat as you watch them kiss, forcing yourself to look away when you spot the swipe of a demanding tongue and hear a surrendering sigh. It’s another moment of you listening to the sounds of their kisses with a bright red flush across your chest, neck, and cheeks, before Agatha sighs, breaking it up for your sake.

“Go on, my love. Show her your garden.”

masterlist + guidelines

hope you guys enjoy this one!

#agatha all along #agathario x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader

69 notes · View notes

hexpea · 1 year ago

Text

After the tragic passing of your husband by your own hands, you're set to marry his younger brother, Naoya, to maintain the alliance between your clan and the Zenin.

Under the facade of lending your family's influence in exchange for the Zenin strength, your task set by your father, the 24th Kamo clan head, is clear. Use your technique to discreetly weaken the Zenin clan, killing the heirs one-by-one.

But will you even have to when Naoya comes down with a mysterious illness?

*smut warning in some chapter cases, non-consensual and rough in some cases* *doesn't follow the manga/anime, no spoilers* *contains themes of non-con and death, trigger warning* *unplanned pregnancy* *hanahaki disease*

Prologue - Gladioli

Ch. 1 - Black Dahlia

Ch. 2 - Wolfsbane

Ch. 3 - White Lilies

Ch. 4 - Daffodils

Ch. 5 - Hogweed

Ch. 6 - Chrysanthemums

Ch. 7 - Pink Orchids

Ch. 8 - Seedling

Ch. 9 - Red Dahlia

Ch. 10 - Yellow Carnations

Ch. 11 - The Lotus

Ch. 12 - Iris

Ch. 13 - Lavender Roses

Ch. 14 - Petunia

Ch. 15 - Cherry Blossoms

Ch. 16 - Hibiscus

Ch. 17 - Anemone

Ch. 18 - Pink Ginger

Ch. 19 - Gardenias

Ch. 20 - White Hyacinth

Ch. 21 - Geraniums

Ch. 22 - Poppy

Ch. 23 - Pink Primrose

Ch. 24 - Bells of Ireland

Ch. 25 - White Carnations

Ch. 26 - Crocus

Ch. 27 - Sea Lavender

Ch. 28 - Queen Anne's Lace

Ch. 29 - Baby's Breath

Ch. 30 - Blackthorn

Ch. 31 - Tansy

Ch. 32 - Black Rhododendron

Ch. 33 - Forget-Me-Not

Ch. 34 - Red Spider Lilies

Ch. 35 - Azalea

Epilogue - Buttercup

#naoya zenin #zenin naoya #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin x you #zenin naoya x you #naoya zenin x y/n #zenin naoya x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

67 notes · View notes

acidlake · 2 years ago

Photo

“Dears, I've heard you've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. Meet me under the Azaleas and we'll see what we can do.” - CH

Claret Holiday, a southern comfort, and the impending turf war, done for the Friends at the Table City of Light fanzine back in 2016.

#illustration #friends at the table #marielda #hieron #fanart #city of light #clarit holliday #shout outs to the organizer of this zine who put up with me being in the midst of the worst six months of my life #and sending basically no messages and delivering my art late #a deeply undue amount of kindness braver than any troop

255 notes · View notes

lightbluedevil · 9 months ago

Text

I was inspired by ch. 160 of this fic where xy has a brief fantasy about this

#xuexiao #xiaoxue #xue yang #xue chengmei #xiao xingchen #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fanart #i hate doing backgrounds

24 notes · View notes

lolly-in-a-strange-land · 2 months ago

Text

aequoreal

Ch.2

“You could have warned me how handsome he was.” Fae said to her uncle.

Paul glanced up from the burger he was flipping on the grill and observed his niece. Her hazel eyes were wide and she looked stunned. Eventually Paul’s face broke into a wide grin.

“And spoil the surprise, cuddlebug,” He said. “I think not.”

“No, but I was blindsided because he’s so handsome.” She insisted.

“And you’re a pretty, young lady. What’s the issue?” Paul said.

He was staring at his niece like she’d grown a second head. Why couldn’t she see that she was pretty? He’d always thought so. He’d watched her grow from an adorable baby, to a sweet girl and into the young woman she was.

“I look like a potato.” Fae said.

“Oh kiddo, no you don’t.” Her dad said.

He was standing next to his brother Paul, talking about the meat when Fae had walked over.Fae loved her dad and uncle, but they were definitely biased.

“Was the date good though, is the question?” Azalea asked Fae.

She’d sauntered over, smiling down at Fae. Despite being younger, Azalea was taller than Fae.Fae smiled and blushed.

“It was really romantic,” Fae said. “He was so kind and he had these intense brown eyes.”

“Smitten already,” Paul chuckled, flipping another burger and glancing over at his son, Jacob.“Jake, you want a burger or a dog?”

“Burger, please.” Jacob called from the lounger.

“So, are you seeing him again?” Azalea asked, and grinned.

“Tomorrow for a beach date.” Fae said.

“Would you like some dating tips?” Azalea asked.

Fae was about to reply when Paul’s head shot up at the mention of his 22 year old daughter dating.

“What do you know about dating? You’re not getting married till you’re 40.” Paul said.

“Ugh, dad. Get a life.” Azalea hufed.

“I have one. Making sure my daughter doesn’t get into trouble. It’s in the rule book they give all dads.” Paul said, setting a patty in a bun and shouting Jacob again.

“So, tips?” Fae asked.

“Beach date, right? Wear a sexy bikini. It’ll get him all riled up.” Azalea said.

“I…um….I don’t own a bikini.” Fae said, blushing.

“How the hell do you not own a bikini?” Azalea asked.

“Wendy does the clothes shopping for the girls.” Fae’s dad cut in.

“That is lame, uncle Jamie.” Azalea said.

Fae nodded. Her mom loved clothes shopping with her and her sister, Willow, but Wendy still liked to view her adult daughters as kids, despite Fae being 23 and Willow being 27. Fae and her sister didn’t argue it as they knew their mom loved them. The last time they’d gone shopping together on a girls trip, it had ended in an argument between Wendy and Willow though.

Willow had wanted a new bikini coincidentally. Wendy had forbade her from buying one and the whole experience had been miserable. Fae hadn’t told her mom she had been on a date or that she was going on one tomorrow.

“She needs a bikini for her date.” Azalea insisted.

“Who needs a bikini for a date?” Wendy asked, appearing with a pitcher of iced water.

“Our little cuddlebug has a date tomorrow,” Paul grinned, and Azalea facepalmed at her dad’s ability to put his foot in his mouth. “Set up by me.”

“A date? You have a date, Fayette?” Her mother asked.

“Yeah, he’s really nice. His name is Joe.” Fae said.

“You never mentioned a date. Do we know his parents?” Wendy asked.

Her mom assumed he was a college student like Fae and Fae felt like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. How to explain the age gap between her and Joe? Her uncle Paul and Aunt Marla had an age gap so maybe she could explain it using them as an example.They’d been married a long time and had Azalea and Jacob.

“He’s not a college student,” Jacob said, walking over, looking for another burger. “He’s Roman Reigns. Dad’s his manager.”

“You set my baby up with a wrestler?” Wendy said, rounding on Paul, who stayed behind the grill.

“Now Wends, he’s a great guy. I know how to pick ‘em. Fae is in good hands.” Paul said.

“And how old is this wrestler?” Wendy snapped.

“He’s 37. He’ll be 38 this year.” Paul said, shrugging.

“He’s over a decade older. What on earth were you thinking?” Wendy hissed.

“Wends, it’s ok. Fae’s a grown woman now.” Jamie said, trying to reassure his wife, but she bristled.

“She’s 23.” Wendy snapped.

Fae watched them bicker and she sighed, glancing across the garden to see her aunt Marla waving her over. She snuck over and went into the kitchen. Marla glanced at her, making her blonde ponytail bounce.

“Hey, cuddlebug. I heard the drama from in here. You holding up ok?” She asked.

“Yeah, mom doesn’t seem happy.” Fae said, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Your mom means well, but she’s not ready to let go yet.” Marla sighed, pouring them some lemonade.

“Maybe I should cancel the date.” Fae said, accepting the glass.Marla walked over and turned, sliding up to sit on the island and she looked down at her niece.She sighed softly.

“Do you want to cancel the date?” She asked.

“No, aunt Marla. I really like him and he treated me like a woman.” Fae said.

“Then you have your answer. Don’t cancel the date.” Marla said.

“What about mom?” Fae asked.

“Ah, she’ll get over it. Azalea goes on dates and at first, her dad and I were a little sad. Paul still makes cracks about her not dating, but she has to grow and learn, has to navigate the world without us. You have to do that too, cuddlebug. You’re a beautiful, young woman. Make your own decisions and own those decisions.” Marla said.

“Thank you, aunt Marla.” Fae smiled.

“Now, did you want me to take you shopping this afternoon and get you a bikini?” Marla asked.

“One step at a time.” Fae replied.

“That’s fine. I’m here if you ever need me.” Marla said, touching Fae’s face.

Fae headed back outside. The air was tense and she shifted to stand next to Azalea. Wendy looked furious still and glanced at her daughter.

“I shall be very disappointed if you intend to go on that date tomorrow, Fayette.” She said, fixing Fae with a stern look.

She walked over to the loungers and Azalea glanced down at her cousin, grinning again.

“You still going?” She asked.

“Yeah, it’s worth it, he’s worth it.” Fae smiled.

“You go, girl.” Azalea grinned.

*****************

The offer to go bikini shopping might have been a good idea. Fae held up her pink and grey onepiece bathing suit and frowned. It didn’t really scream sensual. It just screamed practical and she sighed. Still, it would be ok. She stood and changed into the swimsuit and stood in front of the mirror, turning left and right. She stepped away and put her dress over the top.She checked her phone and realised he’d be here any minute. She slipped on her sneakers and paced her dorm. She’d thought the whole thing would fizzle, but he’d been texting her since last Friday.

The conversations consisted of him texting her every morning to say good morning andthey’d text throughout the day then he’d text her last thing at night. He’d flirt with her and Faewould flounder because she couldn’t come up with things as quickly. It was like her brain was two steps behind her. Her phone buzzed and she checked it. He was outside. She could invite him in to see her dorm. She left her room and peeked out the main door.Roman rolled down the window and smiled at her. She was peeking out from behind the glazed glass doors.

“Hey, did you want to see my dorm?” She asked.

“Inviting me in already?” He chuckled.

He was rewarded by her face going red. He opened the car door and stepped out, walking up the steps and following her into the room. Her dorm room was small. A desk was under the window, and a bed was on the left side of the room. Photos of various sealife decorated the wallabove her bed and a jellyfish light sat on the desk.

“See, this is the light,” She said, and scampered to the desk, turning the light on. It lit up, flitting between colors. “Cool, huh?”

“Very colorful.” Roman said, sitting on her bed and leaning back.

She glanced at him as he made himself comfortable. He was so tall. She’d looked it up. He was 6 foot 4 and she was 5 foot. The height diference had made her kick her feet and giggle. She turned the jellyfish lamp off.

“So….um…my cousin called you by a different name the other day.” She said.

“Roman Reigns is my ring name, Fae. All my friends just call me Joe.” He said.

“Am I your friend?” She asked.

“You’re wanting to just be my friend, Fae?” He asked, sitting up.

“N-no…I mean yes…I mean, what would you want me to be?” She asked.

He looked at her. And she was staring at the carpet again. This was only the second date, but he figured it was best to set expectations early and see what hers were.

“I would like a relationship with you, Fae. I’m not seeing anyone else.” He said.

“I want a relationship too.” She said.

“We’re on the same page then.” Roman said.

“Yeah, I think so.” She said, and stepped closer.

He gently pulled her to him and she stood between his legs. His hands settled on her hips. She was wearing a blue summer dress patterned with blueberries.

“You’re looking very cute today.” He murmured.

She blushed more and hid her face in her hands, looking like a very cute tomato. He chuckled at the way she became shy.

“This is so unfair that you can make me blush. I should be able to make you blush.” She insisted, lifting her head. Her auburn hair made the blush more severe.

“Go ahead,” Roman smirked. “Say something that’ll make me blush, Fae.”

“You should wear your hair down. It looks nice down.” She said.He laughed at that.

She looked like she wanted to escape the embarrassment.

“My little fox likes my hair,” He said, and her reaction to the term of endearment was adorable.“I’ll let it down soon.”

“Really?” She asked, looking happy.

“Yeah, when I get my face between your thighs, I’ll let it down, give you somethin’ to hold onto.”He smirked.

Fae’s eyes widened and he tilted his head, watching her breathing hitch and her cheeks turn scarlet again. He traced his hands up her hips, following her waist. She was curvy and had a nice shape to her.

“N-no, that’s not fair. You made me blush more.” She whined.

He laughed at that. She was still deeply embarrassed when they left the dorm. She sat in the passenger seat, blushing and smiling shyly.

“I will beat you up for making me all blushy.” She said, when they stopped at a light.

“You couldn’t beat me up, Fae.” Roman said.

“I so could. You don’t know about my skills.” She insisted.

“Your skills? You’re 5 foot with zero muscle mass and you trip over your own feet. What skills am I supposed to believe you have, little fox?” He asked.

“I don’t always trip over.” She giggled.

“A good 90% of the time. Got a nice bruise on your knee.” He chuckled and started driving when the light changed.

“There was a door.” She said.

“You took on a door, brave little fox.” He said.

“I fell into it, if you must know.” She said, and her lower lip jutted out.

“And you still lost.” Roman said.

“Doors are heavy.” She said.

“Are they though?” He replied.

“You don’t know. You’re 6 foot 4 and super strong. Some doors are really super heavy.” She said.

She looked at him, like this was some kind of victory.

Her mouth turned up in a cute,mischievous smile. He glanced at her and raised a brow. She blushed and looked away. They arrived at the beach and Fae got out of the car. The plan was to rent a beach umbrella, have a picnic and talk.She followed him on the way to the beach from the rental shop and he picked a spot a little further away from the various other people on the beach.

“We’re not too close to anyone.” Fae said.

“Yeah, I don’t particularly want to be bothered.” He replied, setting up the umbrella.

Fae laid out the towels once she’d set the bag down. The umbrella provided a little bit of shade from the sun and a little bit of shelter from other people. She watched him sit on one of the towels. Fae was watching the other beach goers; families with children, surfers and a group of women playing volleyball.The women were all wearing bikinis and Fae felt that familiar twinge of insecurity.

Maybe she should have taken up Marla’s offer to go bikini shopping and not relied on a swimsuit she’d had for about 2 years. She glanced back at Roman. He was leaning back on the towel and shifted forward, making her blush again when he cupped her face.

“Lookin’ a bit upset, baby. What’s up?” He asked.

“My swimming costume is kinda dumb,” She admitted. “I should have accepted Marla’s offer to get me a bikini.”

“Can I be the judge of that, please.” He said, and her hazel eyes shifted, darting around in that anxious way.

“It’s not sexy.” She insisted.

“Considering you are the definition of sexy, I find that hard to believe,” He replied, leaning back.“Strip for me, Fae.”

Her cheeks went pink again at the salacious tone. She carefully lifted her dress up by the hem and over her head, revealing the pink and grey one piece. She set the dress down and looked back at him. He was watching her through half-lidded eyes and her stomach fluttered.

“So….yeah….this is my swimsuit.” She said.

He smirked and her blush deepened. Ok so, he didn’t look disappointed. It wasn’t the response she’d been expecting and it must have shown in her expression because he beckoned her closer, so she was seated between his legs. Close enough for him to skim his fingers down her waist and then settle on her hip.

“Look at you, Fae. Such a good girl.” He murmured.

Her breathing hitched. He was definitely doing this on purpose. His hand was huge with long fingers, and she could feel the heat of his touch searing her through the swimsuit.

“You like it.” She said, and Roman nodded.

“Like is a bit of an understatement, Fae.” He said.

“But it’s not like a bikini.” She insisted, and he leaned closer.

“No, but I like this. This heightens the anticipation.” He said, and his hand moved higher, grazing just under the swell of her breast.

“You are not allowed to make me blush so much.” She said.

“This you tellin’ me what to do, Fae.” He said.

Something about that tone made her hesitate and she jutted her lower lip out and narrowed hereyes in what she hoped was a scary look, but judging by his smirk, she looked about as threatening as a puppy.

“I will beat you up.” She replied.

“Promises promises.” Roman said.

“You don’t believe me.” Fae said.

“What gave it away?” He chuckled.

She folded her arms and looked away again, blushing more. He watched her. She looked beautiful in the late morning sun, auburn hair like flames and skin like ivory.

“Are you flirting with me?” She asked, looking curious.

“Again, what gave it away?” He replied, and she smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He shifted back again and she watched him. Her eyes went wide when he removed his t-shirt.

A whole swarm of butterflies took up residence in her stomach. The tattoo she’d noticed on his right arm last week spanned his entire arm and his right pec. His skin was tawny, covering rippling muscles. And she was staring, just blatantly staring at him because he’d noticed and looked smug now.

“Like what you see, baby?” He teased, and she looked embarrassed again, but didn’t speak, just continued to blush. “And apparently you’ve been rendered speechless. Cute.”

She smiled bashfully again and made a very feeble attempt to shove him until he caught her wrists and dragged her closer, her giggling. Settling under the umbrella with her back against his chest, she relaxed. She almost fell asleep and he had to remind her to put on sunscreen. She settled again, reading a book.

Sitting with her like this was amazing. In the past, there felt like an obligation to fill the silence.Deanna used to fill the silences and Roman would find himself escaping to another room for amoments peace, but Fae seemed content to lounge against him and read. And he felt content to hold her and rub her shoulder.

At some point the book slipped from her hands and she dozed against him, breathing evenly. He smiled and let her sleep. The heat of the morning had shifted and there was a slight breeze. Fae woke up after a while and tilted her head up to look at him.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” She mumbled.

“Don’t apologise. It was cute.” He replied.

She smiled and breathed him in. He smelt amazing; musky and masculine mixed with sunscreen.

“Hey, what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” She asked.

“I’m a rocky roads kinda guy.” He chuckled.

“I like cookie dough,” She said, and her smile widened. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

She got up and he almost laughed when she tripped, but righted herself and rushed off, grabbing her purse before she left. She returned 10 minutes later with two containers of ice cream, holding out one for him.

“Fae, you didn’t have to.” He said.

“I wanted to because you paid for dinner last week.” She said.

“Yeah, I’ll always pay for dinner.” Roman said.

“I want to buy you stuff sometimes.” She insisted, shyly.

“And you can,” He said. “But I am gonna spoil you, Fae.”

She smiled again and took a bite of her ice cream using the little spoon. Throughout their text exchanges in the week, she’d been incredibly thankful about the meal. It was like she wasn’t used to it and he had to remind himself that she definitely wasn’t used to it and it just made Roman more determined to make her happy.

They finished their ice cream and stayed on the beach until the sun started to dip below thesealine, painting the skies beautiful shades of magenta and pink. She was still curled up against his chest and he’d wrapped his arms around her.

“I’ll be away from next week, baby.” He murmured.

“Oh, how long for?” She asked, softly.

“Couple of weeks.” He replied.

“For an event?” She asked, trying to work out what show it would be for.

Her uncle talked about Raw and Smackdown. She’d not paid attention before until now. She tilted her head back to look at him and he smiled at her.

“Wrestlemania is starting on the 6th April.” Roman said.

“I’ll watch it to support you.” Fae said, and he chuckled at that.

It was sweet that she was willing to watch it to show support. The evening breeze moved her hair and he cupped her face. Leaving without establishing what they’d be when he returned didn’t feel right.

“Before I go, Fae, I want to make this official with you.” He murmured.

“Official? Like being a couple?” She said.

“Yeah, exactly like that.” He replied.

“I’d really like that. Can I text you while you’re away?” She asked.

“Yeah, text me everyday. I’ll ring you every day too. Think I’d go through withdrawals without hearing your voice.” He said.

She giggled at that. The sun finally dipped below the sea line and the sky started to darken. The wind had started to pick up as they left. Fae was on cloud 9 when she arrived back at her dorm.She wanted to stay with him forever.

She reluctantly unbuckled her seatbelt and she leaned in when he kissed her, lips lingering against hers. She wanted the night to not end, wanted him to come to her dorm.They pulled apart and she blushed again, partly from the kiss and partly from her own thoughts.She wanted him with her all night. She wanted the feeling of his arms around her again.

“I’ll miss you.” She whispered.

“And I will miss the fuck out of you, Fae.” He replied.

She smiled at that and they shared one last kiss before she got out of the car and headed upher dorm steps. Once she was in her dorm room, she got ready for bed and prepared herself for 2 weeks without him. 2 weeks had never felt long before but now it did. It felt like an eternity.

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #aequoreal

9 notes · View notes

luxuriq · 2 years ago

Text

A Flower Frozen, His » Ch. 2 | Sub-Zero (Bi-Han)

[ 18+, minors DNI ; dom/sub, degradation, rough, third pov ]

Summary: An elite brothel, The Red Orchid, has sent six girls to their newest client: the Lin Kuei, an old warrior clan. But the brothel is just a front for a highly secretive group of spies, and their objective might be more than simply offering entertainment for the warriors: their target none other than the Grandmaster himself. How will the girls - especially their leader, codenamed Iris - navigate their dangerous mission, and what will happen if they get caught?

→ Reader character is named for clarity reasons, but it's still a reader character, not an OC.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | ...

Ch. 2 words: 2775

A/N: Alright, time for the first spicy act. (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ From this chapter onward, every chapter will include smut. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

It seemed like Bi-Han’s ice powers made the man frigid.

She laughed quietly when the thought crossed her mind. It has been several weeks since The Red Orchid began their work for the Lin Kuei, and no progress has been made regarding Operation Ice Blue. Nothing. Not even a simple and useless fact like how he’s like in bed, because he has not taken any of the girls to bed yet.

Iris sighed as she spelled out the last letter of her message and, without waiting for the ink to dry, folded the piece of paper. The message on it simply read, “Not even once.”

She was at a loss about how to proceed. The girls depended on her. To help them woo the Grandmaster. Madam Azalea depended on her. To gather useful information and finish this job. No matter how amazing of a performance the girls put up, no matter how many other warriors they went through; one of the girls even tried speaking to the Grandmaster directly, but he just kept ignoring them.

Iris gathered her purse and her fan, put the message into her hidden sleeve pocket, hopped into her shoes and left the chambers assigned to The Red Orchid. An informant lived in the nearby town, and she took care of delivering messages and instructions between Iris and Madam Azalea. The messages have been scarce considering the lack of progress, so Iris wasn’t too worried about raising suspicion when she occasionally took a trip to the town.

The girls’ chambers were at the outskirts of the Lin Kuei compound, and one could quickly reach the gate. Iris was busy brainstorming ideas on The Red Orchid’s next performance and was almost oblivious to her environment. Not that he made any sound, his footsteps silent on the cobbled path.

“Where do you think you’re going, slut?”

Iris froze mid-step. Even though the deep and commanding voice had never spoken to her directly before, she immediately recognized it, and it made her blood run cold.

There is no reason for him to suspect anything, crossed her mind as she composed herself.

She spun on her heel and immediately dipped her head into a low bow, “Grandmaster.”

Iris straightened back up, an easy-going smile on her face, and finally locked eyes with the handsome warrior standing in front of her.

“I’m going to the town to pick up some supplies for our contraceptive concoction. I’m the handler of The Red Orchid’s entertainers and I’m allowed to leave at any time. Those are our terms,” she explained in a calm way, her fan popping open with a flick of her wrist.

Bi-Han crossed his arms over his chest, and she couldn’t help but give his bulging biceps an appreciative once-over. The Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei was pure sin on two legs.

“And what if you’re needed to perform your services?” he questioned, his voice low and emotionless.

“That is not my duty. I’m here to take care of the girls and represent Madam Azalea in any bureaucratic matters.”

It felt almost like a cartoonish lightbulb flicked on above her head as a daring idea came to her mind.

“Do you require my services, Grandmaster?” she continued. “My girls tell me you deny all their advances. Is something wrong? Do you not find our services satisfactory?”

Bi-Han let out a short, humourless laugh, “I am not interested in used goods.”

A spark of anger flared up inside Iris and the grip on her fan tightened. Those girls were extremely hard-working, kind, and loyal. He had no right to talk about them in such way just because of the nature of their work; Grandmaster and a client or not.

“Do not insult The Red Orchid. Our girls—”

“Or what?” Bi-Han interrupted her with a low growl and took a step forward. “Are you threatening me, whore handler?”

You’re a diplomat, Iris. Calm down and be respectful. Stroke his ego.

She took a deep breath, her expression relaxing and gaze lowering to the ground, “No, of course not, Grandmaster. But—”

Her eyes met his. Brown. A warm colour.

“Sex work is not the only thing we do. Please let one of our girls perform a private tea ceremony for you. It’s a great thing to do to wind down after a long day. Tomorrow after dinner. I’ll clear the schedule of any girl you want.”

He did not seem to care about performative arts, so maybe he cared about tradition.

Bi-Han was silent for a long moment.

“I want you to do it,” he said flatly, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes.

“I’m—. Of course, Grandmaster, as you wish.”

Did she find Bi-Han terrifying? Yes. Did she also find him intriguing and weirdly attractive? That was true as well.

Iris was familiar with tea ceremony and has been a participant many times, but she’s never actually performed it. That night she recruited The Red Orchid girl who was an expert in performing the tea ceremony. And she practiced. All evening. The next morning. Until it was time to get ready for her meeting with the Grandmaster.

Almost her entire wardrobe consisted of traditional outfits, so it wasn’t hard to find something appropriate. She applied some light makeup and weaved some accessories into her hair. She wasn’t sure about Bi-Han’s preferences, but she had a hunch a more innocent, soft look might help rile him up.

Packing up the supplies for the tea ceremony, she headed to the little pavilion near the training grounds. The Lin Kuei compound was a mix of buildings, outside training grounds and gardens. Iris was quite familiar with the gardens as that was where she often took walks. She knew of the pavilion they’d agreed to meet at. Not too secluded, but it was partially obscured from the training ground’s direction. The official martial arts practice has ended for today, but there were many Lin Kuei warriors who would come out to train even in the afterhours.

She arrived before the Grandmaster. He was probably still at the mess hall having dinner. The Red Orchid girls had their meals in their rooms, separate from the clan, so Iris was able to grab a little bite earlier.

She had just set the last teacup in place, when she heard a soft sound of approaching footsteps on the gravel path. The source soon followed the sound and Bi-Han appeared from behind some hibiscus bushes, following the tiny garden path. All tall and handsome, sporting his signature blue warrior robe – sleeveless, so his delicious muscular arms were on full display, he was a sight to behold.

Iris quickly got onto her feet and bowed gracefully, “Grandmaster, good evening.”

“You’re awfully covered up for a whore,” he chuckled coldly as he made his way up the two stairs of the pavilion.

She chose to ignore his comment and instead sat down by the little table she had set up. She motioned for him to sit down on the other side of the table.

“I’m sorry I do not live up to your expectations, I’m just being respectful of the ceremony,” she said.

Bi-Han sat down on the opposite side of the table, his back perfectly straight, “Begin then.”

Iris took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, and then exhaled, willing all the stray thoughts to leave her mind. The ceremony itself was quite relaxing and she wanted to be in that mood from the start.

The warrior watched her carefully as she began to rinse the teapot and the teacups, a hint of vapor rising from the water. She picked up a dish with tea leaves and scooped them into the teapot. Pouring hot water over the leaves, she waited a few seconds and then poured it out, rinsing the leaves in the process. The second time she poured the water into the teapot, she left it there for good, starting the brewing process. She covered the teapot and continued pouring hot water over it, maintaining the temperature.

Bi-Han watched patiently, stoically. Iris was proud of herself for managing to keep her hands steady, not shaking under his cold gaze.

She let the tea brew, but her work was not yet over. With the remaining hot water, she rinsed the teacups again, warming them up in preparation for the tea. Now it was time to serve the tea. She filled the two teacups, set down the teapot, and carefully picked one of the cups up. Both hands on the teacup, she extended her arms and offered the tea to Bi-Han.

The Grandmaster reached for the offered teacup, his fingers briefly brushing against hers – the teacup simply too small to accomplish this exchange without touching. Iris quickly pulled her hands back to her lap, her heart skipping a beat at the soft touch. And it was cold. Bi-Han’s hands were so cold. So why was the sensation accompanying their brief exchange practically scorching.

She watched him carry the steaming cup of tea closer to his lips and take a slow sip. This was the first time she had a chance to really study his face and admire his strong jaw and cheekbones, the alluring curve of his lips, and the deep colour of his eyes. Bi-Han was a very handsome man and Iris could practically feel her cheeks heating up as she unwillingly imagined that face between her legs.

Bi-Han’s gaze slowly switched attention from the cup to her, and even though she expected that to happen at some point, she still blushed furiously, feeling like she was caught in the naughty act.

“Good,” he stated.

“What?” she chirped, maybe a little too loudly.

Bi-Han gave her a strange look, “The tea, it’s good.”

She nodded and grabbed her own teacup, “Thank you.”

The Grandmaster seemed like a man that rarely gave praise and Iris felt an overwhelming pride swelling in her chest.

She straightened up and said with a bit more confidence, “It’s a special blend. It should help you relax and sleep well tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s not a special blend that will make me go crazy with desire for you?” Bi-Han taunted.

Her eyes widened, “E-excuse me?”

He chuckled coldly, “I thought you wanted me to take you to bed; you or maybe another whore, since you keep offering them to me.”

Iris took a sip of her tea, taking extra few seconds to think, “Whether you use our services or not, we are getting paid handsomely by the clan to just be here. I guess it’s a waste of money on your part then.”

Bi-Han’s gaze darkened, “Are you questioning my leadership?”

She knew she was playing a very dangerous game when she shrugged and said, “Well, it wasn’t you who hired The Red Orchid—”

In a matter of seconds, Bi-Han was on his feet and across the table, his movements fast but graceful – predatory. His hand grabbed her by the hair on the back of her head, forcing her to look up at him.

“Silence, whore,” he snarled, his face coming dangerously close to hers. “I’ll take what we paid for then.”

Iris’ heart was racing and so were her thoughts. This was it, a chance to get closer to him, get in a better position to spy on him. But it was not supposed to be her – she was the handler, she forwarded the information, not gathered it. Besides, she’d only ever lain with women.

“I-I’m not one of the entertainers, I’m not the best at the art of pleasuring a man,” she warned meekly.

“Good. All you must do is keep your mouth open and I’ll do the rest,” he said darkly.

His other hand moved to his crotch, undoing his pants. She stared, wide-eyed, as he pulled out his half-hard cock. Even in this state, it was already impressive, and Iris had a tough time imagining how she could fit it anywhere when it was fully erect. He gave it a few quick pumps and it eagerly responded to his touch.

Bi-Han’s grip on her hair was unyielding. Even while keeping her head perfectly still, she could feel the burning sensation of the pull. It made her feel … excited?

“Open,” Bi-Han commanded, his girthy cock now inches away from her lips.

Slowly, cautiously, she parted her lips, her eyes flicking between the Grandmaster’s face and his impressive member. A droplet of pre-cum had gathered on its pink tip. He bucked his hips, the tip of his cock hitting her lips and smearing the pre-cum around.

“I said open, whore,” Bi-Han growled and pulled on her hair harshly.

She opened her mouth to cry out in pain, but all that accomplished was a mouthful of dick. It was too sudden, too deep – it made her cough and gag. Bi-Han held her there for a few more seconds, then finally pulled her off his dick.

“C’mon now, we barely even started,” he mocked her as she was catching her breath.

“Can you … go slower,” she pleaded, her voice hoarse.

Bi-Han pushed his cock against her lips again, “No. Now be a good whore and take what you’re given.”

Iris opened her mouth wider this time, and even though Bi-Han was still rough and fast when pushing it in, she was at least expecting it. He stopped when he was halfway in and then immediately pulled all the way out. He repeated the motion, once, twice, harder each time, pushing deeper. Her mouth was already taking all it could, yet he was barely halfway in. Saliva was gathering in the corners of her mouth and all she could do was let it dribble down her chin.

Bi-Han pulled on her hair again, tilting her head back even more. On the next thrust, his cock pushed deeper into her throat, and she started coughing and choking violently again. He pulled back, but not fully, then rammed in again. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to catch her breath, saliva dripping down her chin freely.

“You look so pathetic,” Bi-Han commented coldly. “You can barely take my cock, what a useless slut.”

Iris’ face was already red from exertion, but she blushed an even deeper colour after hearing his degrading words.

Bi-Han kept thrusting deep, continuously hitting the back of her throat, and all she could do was try and focus on her breathing. Her jaw hurt and her face was stained with tears and drool, her make-up completely ruined. But there was also a wicked kind of pleasure that she was getting from being treated like this, and she squeezed her legs together several times during the act.

She could feel his cock throbbing in her mouth now and she knew he was getting close. Bi-Han readjusted his grip on her hair, holding her head instead, and pushed her closer into his crotch. Iris let out a pathetic whine when his thick cock hit the back of her throat and then remained there, the Grandmaster keeping her close.

Several seconds passed. Being this close to him, she could feel a chill in the air surrounding him.

Bi-Han suddenly yanked her head back, pulling her off his cock that was dripping with her saliva, and grabbed it with his hand. He gave it a few quick pumps, breathing heavily, and then grunted as he spilled all over her face. His cum landed on her cheeks, her chin, and her lips, completing her messy, used look.

The Grandmaster’s breathing was still a bit faster than usual, his gaze hazy as he continued to hold her there, staring down at her. Slowly, she stuck out her tongue and licked her lower lip, getting a taste of his release. Salty. Cold.

“Slut,” Bi-Han grunted as he watched her lick up his cum. And he watched her eagerly.

Then he finally let go of her hair and took a step back, quickly fiddling with his pants.

Iris was still in a daze after what had just transpired. She could also feel the unmistakable wetness between her legs, which only further fuelled the delicious feeling of embarrassment. She just let a man treat her like a mere toy, just a mouth that he could get off on.

“I have changed my mind,” Bi-Han said hoarsely, his member already covered up, the Grandmaster himself looking as composed as always. “Bring one of your whores to my chambers tomorrow. I expect a better service than today.”

That made Iris perk up.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” she bowed, her voice still a bit raspy.

Operation Ice Blue could officially begin.

❀

« Previous chapter | Next chapter »

#mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 sub zero #mk1 bi han #sub zero #bi han #sub zero x reader #bi han x reader #lux writes #mortal kumbat

92 notes · View notes

aceofwonders · 5 months ago

Text

azalea in game for y'all 🩷

#my lil bardlock girly uwu #i need to get you a last name #ch: azalea

9 notes · View notes

devilsmenu · 4 months ago

Text

@macaric - Urumi & Azalea

"You look better in red." Urumi said complimenting the other with a nod.

#macaric #feat azalea #ch: urumi

2 notes · View notes

highladyjane · 1 year ago

Text

Been having a headcanon all morning that Azriel and Elain will have a daughter named Azalea conceived between some of those bushes in the garden during one of their "clandestine meetings"...

Besides being a very near combination of their names...

... Which also reminded me of when Elain was in Illyria:

"If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta…she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. [...] Nesta stared them all down. Elain kept her focus on the dry, rocky ground". (ACOWAR, Ch. 51)

It's just the perfect name for our flowery gardener and her Illyrian 🌸🦇

Also, Happy Vernal Equinox to us on the Northern Hemisphere!

🌱🐛🌷🦋🌸🐝🪻🐞💐

#i spaced out while staring at my still winter-dead Azalea bushes and this popped into my head 😆#they are SO Made for each other!!!#don't mind my ramblings and obsessions #elriel headcanon #azriel x elain #elain archeron #elriel supremacy #elriel baby

45 notes · View notes

glaciertea · 1 year ago

Text

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.8<< >>Ch.10

Notes: The floodgates are opening. Also! There are some influences/inspirations from the amazing @politemenacephd fic, A Fortunate Mistake. I'm sure that's a house name by now, but it's such a good read. 12/10. Highly recommend!

CW/TW: Mentions of drug use, grief/mourning (in a way, yeah), anxiety

Chapter 9: I'm Going to Give All My Secrets Away

Word count: 5.1K

You rocked from side to side, anticipation sweeping over your body as you swished your head back and forth, your hair following with every pivot.

“I hope he didn't get lost.”

You pulled your phone out and reread the last texts you sent to each other. You planned to meet early, enough to beat the crowds despite it being a Thursday morning.

Taking one final inspection of your clothes, you sighed out. A frilly, floral lilac romper you took from your job, a white turtleneck, and some ankle boots you dug from underneath your bed.

“Is this too much? Am I overdressed?”

“I think it looks good on you.” A voice sprung out of nowhere, but you instantly recognized it.

“Miguel! You made it!”

You bounced on the balls of your feet before taking a glance over at him. “And my, you sure do clean up nicely. Maybe I'm underdressed.”

He donned a black pullover sweater that hugged every curve of his muscles, gray chinos, fancy leather black boots, and his shades. You bit your tongue to release yourself from daydreams dipping into treacherous territories.

“I believe we are both appropriately dressed. Ready to head through?”

You enthusiastically nodded your head as you made a beeline through the pergolas with different dangling flowers, welcoming you both in.

“So this is also your first visit?” Miguel trailed a bit behind, not wanting to overtake you with his steps due to his much longer legs.

“Mhm. I've been passing here so much during my commute to the shop. I know they allow a certain part to be free to the public, but I think you have to pay once you get to this pretty gate surrounded by hedges of animals. Or so that's what I've read on the website.”

Your eyes glimmered at the many hues of Mother Nature. The sky was blue with very few clouds, and the weather was perfect for a stroll.

Miguel couldn't help but observe your eagerness, a crack of a smile breaking in. You were so exquisite. So endearing.

And it afflicted him because of what he exactly wanted to disclose. But he shook them away as the day had just begun, and he had no desire to ruin what bit of chance he had left with you.

After making it out under the pergolas, they were greeted by several stone fountains, surrounded by bushes of azaleas, roses, and a few others. Manicured hedges and trees decorate the picnic tables and benches that line the gorgeous scenery.

“This is the part that is free to enter, but beyond that archway is the rest we have to pay for. And so far, I believe this will be worth every penny.”

“I agree.”

Wiping your hands on your romper, you spied one of the splatter-painted benches. “Would you like to sit and take in the environment for a bit before jumping into the big sections?”

“That'll be a good idea.” Miguel held his arm out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You ambled towards one in the middle that presented a view that oversaw the fountains and all. Settling down, you both inhaled the refreshing atmosphere.

The only noises that rang around were the water jetting and trickling, birds whistling whimsical melodies, and your boots occasionally crunching the perfectly cut grass.

“I hope it stays like this for the day. It said Thursdays are pretty slow, unless there's a school trip or rented-out event. And luckily, on the calendar, there's nothing going on today.” You crossed your legs, swaying them leisurely.

“You certainly did your research for this.”

“Of course! I want this hanging-out date to be decently fun.”

Miguel quirked a brow at that. “Hanging out date?”

You became flustered; your mouth managed to act faster than your mind. You did latch onto the idea of this being a date, as you secretly hoped for it to be. But you didn't want him to know because you were nervous about spooking him away.

“Well, I–uh, yes! Well, more so hanging out than the date part. I mean, I know I told you Monday that it could be whatever you want it to be, so if you want it to just be hanging out between two friends… a-are we friends?”

Miguel dipped his head down at you. He never personally put a label on what precisely your relationship is with each other.

He's undeniably sure he relishes your company and the equanimity you give him. How he's able to unwind with no hassle of being hounded whenever he's close to you.

“Yes, we are friends.”

You couldn't contain your giddiness as you did a little dance. “Oh my gosh! I've been meaning to ask but didn't know how! I mean, even though we do spend a lot of time with each other, I didn't want to assume and pressure you into a domain you weren't comfortable with.”

Miguel was going to miss those jabbers. Your tender temperament.

“Thank you. And I'm glad you're happy to be friends with me, of all people.”

“Hey! Why would I not? You are a very sweet, patient, loving, and caring gentleman who always manages to put a smile on my face… How you light up the days when you laugh, the fun we have, how we're able to converse about what goes on in our thoughts. How handsome you are…”

You gazed out over the man, getting lost in his features.

Miguel's heart raced at the adjectives you used to describe him. How depressing it'll be when you learn he's the opposite of all of it.

“Right! What I'm trying to say is to stop that. Don't speak so ill about yourself. You are a terrific person, and I want you to be able to take that with stride and pride.” You hoisted yourself up, holding your palm out.

“So shall we explore what Mother Earth has in store for us?”

Miguel was entirely speechless. He's so used to mostly negative connotations that hearing any favorable terms, especially from you, threw him off heavily. But it also stroked his ego, which had bubbled up earlier.

His enormously harsh and brawny hand engulfed your dainty one, but it seemed so right. “Si, I'm very excited to know as well.”

You battled to keep your composure, as you frankly didn't foresee him taking it. It was a fight you had to win.

Fingers entwined, you make your way to the gate, where Miguel paid for both of your entry tickets, despite your attempts to use your card.

“No. Guarda tu billetera. Remember, I'm supposed to be treating you.”

You promptly gave up when he whispered in your ear. You begin to reflect on how you simply fall from grace whenever you're near him. It was too easy.

Way too easy.

The garden was bountiful. There were different varieties of plants, ranging from shrubs, flora, trees, and more. An aesthetic kingdom of creations in harmony. Trails winding into split sections as they hugged a serenely large, sparkling crystal blue lake.

“This is magical. It's like I stepped inside a fantasy novel!” You waltzed in some more before doing a twirl with your arms wide out.

A wistful smile emerged from Miguel. He adored the terrain, as he hadn't encountered anything so naturally expansive. Well, besides the vast majority of colorful spiders at the HQ. But what molded this into a more unique case was your presence. It added more to an experience he hasn't sensed in forever.

And this will be another chapter closed when the sun sinks into the horizon’s line.

“Do you wanna see the map, Miguel? It looks big in person, but this place is decently tiny.”

You slid back over to him as you held out the map in front of both of you.

“Should we make our way towards the tulip clusters and go from there?”

“That sounds like a plan. Lead the way, and I'll follow suit.”

Bowing your head, you folded the paper and placed it in your bag. Journeying ahead, you were dazzled by the profusion of flowers decorated into numerous shapes and designs, or how they were authentically grown.

You both wandered towards a pathway until you looped back to the beginning before consulting the map and then headed in an entirely new direction.

And your conversations, just as plentiful as the wildflowers, were full of liveliness.

You discussed whatever popped up in your minds, ranging from tales of your younger days to just the everyday moments in life. You did most of the speaking, and when you detected that you prattled on a bit too much, you'd start to apologize excessively.

“Hey, you're fine. I enjoy hearing what you have to say. It lets me know you're having a good time.”

“But I also want you to be able to speak your mind as well. I love to know even a sliver of what you're feeling.”

Miguel sensed his spirit and heart crack. Damaging spider webs formed, threatening to destroy the security he fictitiously fabricated.

He was conflicted, but he knew. “I want to. I will; trust me. Just not right now.”

You tipped your head at the statement. “Whenever you are comfortable, Miguel.”

You grazed his arm before swiveling your head around the flowers bordering them.

“You know, as we were walking, I had a revelation. A form of interpretation, one can say.”

“And what would that be?” Miguel shadowed your gaze.

“If we were flowers, what would we be viewed as? Everyone would have a slew of choices for one another, but what would be the most common?”

“That's an interesting concept. If you were a flower, I could see you as a sunflower or a daisy. Maybe even a tulip.”

You folded your hands, placed them on your thighs, and looked up at him.

“Would you like to know why I chose those flowers?” Miguel angled himself so the sun could project off you just right, giving your skin that glow.

“Tell me one, and the other two can be a mystery.” Your fingers wiggled in a mystical sort of manner.

Miguel released a brisk waft out of his nose as a snicker merely snuck its way out. “Eres una mujer tonta que adoro mucho. The reason I chose daisies as one is because they're known to represent new beginnings. They bring joy, hope, and cheerfulness.”

Miguel clenched his hand as he prevented himself from stroking your cheek and hair. “And you certainly do yield those qualities.”

You were dazed when he expressed that, clearly drawn back from his response.

“O-oh. Thank you; that's very kind of you.” You tried to hide your giddy smile at his conception of you.

“Now my turn!” You clasped your hands near your chest.

“Alright. What do you perceive me as?” His eyes reflected curiosity as he locked onto you.

“I think you would be a red petunia and a purple hyacinth. Oh! And lavender and marigold.”

Miguel intently gathered your choices; a hint of astonishment poked its way through.

“That's fascinating, especially with… the marigold.” Miguel creased his heavy brows.

The flower that connects life after death.

He was thankful for shades so he could conceal his honest reactions.

“Should I also explain one, or do you want it all to be a secret and leave it up to interpretation?” You teased him as you secured a few inches towards him.

“Usually I would prefer to know everything, but for now, let's leave it in the air.” A smile tugged on his face.

“Deal. Now, shall we continue?”

“Si, sigamos adelante.”

“I'm gonna assume you're agreeing with me. Onwards!” You leapt a foot off the ground and did a quick spin, managing to stick the landing smoothly.

A full-on grin ultimately stumbled on Miguel as you made your way to another part.

As the day continued, more people filled the garden. It wasn't crowded, but a good couple of people passed by every several minutes. You stooped over, leaning into a bush of peonies as Miguel stood by.

“You know what I enjoy about flowers?” You leaned in to sniff one.

“What's that? How they can smell like a permanent perfume department?”

You couldn't help but snort as you nodded your head. “And they say you aren't funny. Yes, I love the fragrance each one gives, but there's more to it.

“How much life they give. These colorful, beautiful things bring so much to us. They give food to the bees, the butterflies, and more. How they grow to show us what the world graces us with.

“How emotions can be expressed within one. Many bring joy, love, and compassion. But some can even show sadness, sorrow, or anger. But I sometimes envy them.” You brushed over a peony with your thumb.

"Why is that?" Miguel squatted next to you.

“They aren't afraid to present vulnerability.”

Miguel's brows furrowed, and his face crinkled in puzzlement. “I don't think I understand.”

“When a flower wilts, it shows it by the petals falling and the colors losing their glowing hue. It could be saying I need more water or sunlight. Or maybe they just need someone to talk to. They aren't afraid to ask. And when given that love, even if it's just a cup of water, they are able to grow back. Brighter than ever.

“They show it's okay to drop those defenses if you truly need help. There will be someone who wants to see that radiating color spring. Oh! I'm sorry for rambling. Do you want to go this way? I don't think we've been into this section.” You adjusted your romper and idly stretched.

Miguel was stunned. It still never ceases to amaze him how you comprehend existence. Even as a mundane flower, you manage to observe more. And it stung his heart more. He didn't deserve someone with a soul like yours. His was dark compared to your light.

The further you traveled into the gardens, the more he learned how warm and gentle you were. The more it frightened him when he finally revealed what he was and what he did.

You rotated back when you noticed Miguel didn't budge. You head back, crouching next to him, concerned if you offended him.

“Miguel? You okay? Did I say something that hurt you?”

He suddenly snaps back from his inner torment.

“Huh?! Oh, no, no. No hiciste nada mal. You are fine, just lost in thought. What you said was very graceful and poetic. You know, I've been meaning to tell you that you have a very beautifully passionate heart.”

You squeaked as you flailed your wrists. “No, no! Thank you, but no! Just how I personally understand the world around me. Um, differentiating opinions and views, you know?”

“And my view and opinion of you won't change.”

You plastered a dumbfounded countenance. “Thank you, Miguel.”

Miguel sucked in a gulp of air before exhaling. “I think I'm ready to share more of how I'm feeling.”

“Are you sure, Miguel? I don't want to force you into something you're not-”

“Listen. This is what I want; this is what I want–need to get off my chest. You aren't forcing me into anything–no corner, nothing like that.”

You gnawed at your bottom lip and bobbed your head. “Here, let's go sit somewhere. I think I saw a resting area near the entrance.”

You made your way back, and the atmosphere brewed a high, rising strain, mostly from Miguel. Sinking onto the garden bench, you both observed a playground across the stony tracks and hedges.

A group of school kids were sprinting and climbing on the jungle gym excitedly. A scowl nearly surfaced on Miguel. It was as if the universe was purposely mocking him.

The shouting of children and trees whooshing in the breeze caught your ears before you emitted a breath of air.

“You okay? It seems you are a bit… lost?” Your voice faint as Miguel dazed at nothing in particular. He was fraught with anxiety about how to even begin foretelling his horrid misdeeds.

“My brain is foggy. I know I have to tell you, but I don't know where to exactly start.” His left leg began to jitter, restlessly bouncing as his nerves skyrocketed.

You hovered your hand over the knee, just as you did when you first hung out together. He watched you as the limb slightly decelerated, your fingers massaging in circular motions.

“And I'm afraid that if I do tell you, everything will fall out of place.”

You joined your legs, eyeing the children gleefully darting around playing, before twirling back to Miguel, eyes affixed on him as your hand proceeded its movements.

“You don't have to, Miguel. Remember, only when you're truly ready for something to be told is, of course, okay with me.”

Miguel was marginally drawn back by your reply.

“But I said that I would tell… are you not upset?”

You shrugged your shoulders. "Why would I be? Everyone is entitled to keep a few thoughts and sentiments to themselves."

His jaw clenched. He didn't have to force himself? He could go at a pace he desired?

But now that's not the case. He had to rip the abundance of bandages with no hesitation. He couldn't hamper it; he was conscious of his decision. He just wasn't prepared to lose you.

After one inhale and a long exhaust, his mouth opened.

“As you know, I'm Spider-Man. You know my purpose is to protect you and the citizens of Nueva York.”

You made sure to only listen. Holding onto every word he gave.

“But there's more to my position as Spider-Man than just that. Are you aware of the massive building that's been erected in the middle of the city?”

You incline your head.

“Do you know what it's for?”

Ashamed, you shook your head. You passed by it a couple times, never engaging enough to digest the purpose of the structure. You presumed it was another megacorporation.

“Inside those walls and structures lie hundreds of others. An elite strike force of spider-people dedicated to protecting the multiverse.”

Your head remained slightly sloping, but your face stayed the very same.

“Do you know of the theory that there are multiple alternate universes? That there’s a surplus of variations of you, but each exists slightly or drastically different from one another?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, that theory is true. And I lead varying types of Spider-Man who capture anomalies that don't belong in those worlds. To make sure a universe doesn't collapse within itself.”

“That's why you're always so tired…” You mumbled before clamping your hand to your mouth. “I'm so sorry; that was rude of me to say.”

Miguel chuckled at that. “No no. You're right. It's not a light job. I'm usually alert. I barely stray away as I have to command and distribute tasks. Well, minus the times when I stepped away for-”

He eyeballed you for a second, biting his cheek, before diverting back to the original topic. “I'm not just Spider-Man. I'm an operation. The day I learned I wasn't the only one was mind-boggling, to say the least. But I soon recognized how disparate I was.”

“How so?” You asked meekly.

“How the story is supposed to go is that Spider-Man gets bitten by a radioactive spider. Rather it be at a lab or a flower shop, they will always be punctured by one.”

Miguel focused on the cloudy sky before gazing back at you. That steady, composed face didn't falter once.

“I, on the other hand, was infused with one. Remember that night when I bit that woman and my body was in a frenzy?”

“I do; it was our first time meeting.” You both smiled at how far ago that encounter was.

“Well, I did some samples because I had to know what caused my body to berserk the way it did. The slew of stimulants that circulated within the woman was ridiculous. But there was one that caught my attention. The one I had personal history with.”

Miguel huffed a huge blow of air. “Rapture.”

He circled his neck, anticipating the judging leer of disgust from you. Yet he was greeted with two blinks, your hand still rubbing his knee.

“Take your time.” Your voice held that sincerity.

That baffled him. Why were you not sneering? Standing up and denouncing him before turning away, abandoning him forever?

“Before I became this figure, someone I knew drugged me with it, and I became highly addicted. The reason why my immune system reacted that way was to prevent any sort of damage to me. To battle it.” He grunted.

“Rapture messes with a human's DNA, and I for certain wasn't going to let this thing forcibly destroy me. So, I began to rewrite my own DNA. Everything seemed fine until a jealous coworker sabotaged my process, and then I became… this.”

Miguel held his claws up, his eyes glossing over the monster he became. A curse with no reverse or means of escape.

“I've done so many wrongs ever since I became this thing. Wrongs that I fear will hurt more and more people.”

You squeezed his knee as your eyes searched his face. Even though the shades concealed him, you felt the pain radiating off of him.

“It wasn't your fault, Miguel. You were forced into a situation that you attempted to escape from. I'm so sorry you went through something traumatic like that.”

You chewed your tongue as Miguel let you continue. “And there will be times where you may do something unpleasant, but it's how you go about resolving them. And Miguel, you are a good person.”

You removed your hand and stroked his arm. “You are keeping thousands of universes safe and the people of Nueva York. You may make mistakes, but you strive to do the right things.”

Miguel choked back a snort. “I'm not a good person. I did heinous things. I-”

A lump caught in his throat. He had to snatch this bandage off. The one that hardly contained the gaping wound. The one that was going to fade everything. The one that will unveil the fiend he truly is.

“I got my daughter killed. I-I killed my daughter.”

He envisioned the terror and revulsion from you this time. And yet, nothing changed. An extra state of peculiarity, but still the same. You waited for him. You perceived that there was a significant amount of context behind the words he blurted.

He couldn't drop the subject. He had to press on. “There was a world where I was happy–well, a version of me. I had a family, a beautiful daughter. And that copy of myself… was killed. So I went and replaced him because I didn't want her to be alone.”

His eyes glassed as the memories faded. “I thought what I did was safe, that I was just taking care of my daughter and being there for her. Just being so happy.”

Miguel held back the tears. “Then one day, during her football match, the world just started to glitch. It began to unravel.”

Miguel dug his claws into his scalp as you mindfully detached them, preventing him from doing any damage to himself.

“Did you know it was going to do that?”

He violently shook his head. “No, no, of course not. But it's my fault! She's gone because of me. She died in my arms because of me! And this is the bear I must burden! It is an endless tribulation. The clock that will never stop ticking, dangling the fault I caused!”

The wooden bench made an ear-wrenching din as Miguel's claws restlessly grated it. You withstood it as your concerns for him rang through.

“They say time mends all wounds, but it's sometimes hard to tell when it exactly begins. Does it happen naturally? Or does it begin with you? It's a scary thought because it can be unknown to some.”

Miguel held his breath as you spun your body to him, showing you were ready to understand.

“You hold this guilt as a constant reminder, but in a way, it's unfair to you. You couldn't have known something like that would come.” You rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

“But I did–I did cause it.”

“You didn't, and I think that's the hardest part. When something around us is out of our control and falls, one of our usual instincts is to blame. And for many, it's ourselves.

“You're locked in this cage, having to grasp a constant reminder of a traumatic experience no one, no parent, should ever go through.”

“I-I…” Miguel didn't know what to say.

“I'm so sorry you went through that pain. I'm so sorry, Miguel. You both didn't deserve that pain. I may not be able to relate, though I can sympathize. You believe you're a bad father, but you're far from it.”

“But I got my daughter killed…”

“But you didn't mean for that to happen.” Your voice was soft.

Shuffling over some now, you glided both of your thumbs on all of his knuckles.

“You are still a good father; things like that will never change. You love and care for her, and I believe your daughter loved you with all her heart.”

Your eyes refused to give up their hold on him.

“Would you like to know why I chose those flowers for you?”

Miguel nodded his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Purple hyacinths are gorgeous as they stand tall and proud, but they hold so much sadness to them. Red petunias are striking, vivid, and vivacious, but they also represent the anger they keep. But underneath is that marigold and lavender." Your intent never changed.

“Those flowers that show tranquility and that beauty for life. The lavender brings peace and serenity as it fills the air with its loving scent, soothing the aching mind. Marigold is that lively golden yellow that can be spotted beyond the many reds and purples.

“I know underneath you hold that marigold and lavender buried deep within, they want to blossom out. To be free and seen.”

“La muerte no es el final, sino una continuación del viaje.”

He mumbled it so lowly and swiftly that you couldn't quite catch it.

You refrained from asking. When he was ready to tell, you would be by his side.

“¿Por qué estás haciendo esto? ¿Por qué no te enojas? Ay, you are too gentle.”

Miguel rested his back on the bench as the kids’ voices reverberated between the two. Full of hope, innocence, joy, and full of amazement.

The jubilation he craved. The memories he misses.

“I don't think it's because I'm gentle; I think it's because you just want someone to listen. You are facing so many things alone that it doesn't sound like there are many in your corner.”

You directed your finger towards his glasses. “May I?”

Miguel's breath hitched as he hesitantly bowed his head.

Removing the shades, you mindfully placed them in-between your thigh and his, and you gazed into his glossy eyes.

Under the shade, they remind you of wine red, smooth and sweet. But now, you could only see the red petunias. The purple hyacinths.

“Know that I'm here for you. I don't know how the ones at your job interact with you–besides Peter, of course. It sounds like he enjoys interacting with you a bit too much.”

A puff of laughter escapes from Miguel as a small smile appears on yours. “But I'll always be right here. Even if I were to move somewhere else, I'll still be right there, Miguel.”

You began to run your thumb against his cheekbone.

“I will be here until you discover that field that's blanketed with nothing but lavender and marigolds.”

Snap.

“Thank you. I'm so… Thank you.”

“Of course.” You beamed as your stomach rudely began to rumble.

“I think my stomach is trying to eat itself. I think they have a cute cafe here, a befitting choice for this place.” You carefully placed the shades back into his claw as Miguel glazed over them.

You stood up and stretched. “Lunch will be on me! I know it's supposed to be you paying me back, but I want to treat you as well.” You followed Miguel with your eyes as he stood up to his full height.

“I can still sense there's something on your mind. Well, there are many things, but a specific one. You can tell me if you'd like.” You nudge your hand against his, making an offer to hold it if he wanted.

“I'm scared in a way. I don't want to hurt you.” Miguel instinctively pulled back a bit, as you did as well, understanding.

You both began to trek over to the main gate as your eyes fixed on the lake.

“I don't believe you'll hurt me. If something were to arise, we'd find a way through it. Unless it was something super bad, but I have a strong gut feeling that things will be okay!”

You paused in front of an archway arrayed with an assortment of flowers. “And my view and opinion of you won't change.”

Miguel didn't utter a single word. Not a single sound escaped.

You gulped, wondering if you had done anything wrong, until you felt his fingers in your hair. The hues from the floral and sun made you only shine brighter.

Miguel had taken his sunglasses back off, his eyes straining in the sunlight, but he didn't care.

“Miguel?”

He leaned down. “Gracias, mi corazón.”

Your lips were soft, and Miguel tasted something sweet as he dipped his head down even more. Your eyes widened until they were heavily closed.

Your arms clumsily tried to wrap around his neck until you got it. He moved his hands to your hips, hearts beating against each other's chests. Miguel could hear yours.

He wondered if you could hear him too.

Pulling away, you both panted heavily. You grasped his face between your palms, carefully knocking your forehead against his.

“Are we still friends?” You cheekily grinned, receiving a hefty laugh from him.

“Yes, a tiny bit more, I would believe, but yes.” He stole one last kiss before your stomach snapped at you two, growling loudly. Miguel couldn't help but laugh even harder.

You lovingly captured every crease in his face and how beautifully he fits into the scene around him. How the gold from the sun really suits his tanned skin.

“Te adoro, corazón. Now let's get something to eat.”

Hand in hand, you two amble to the cafe with no words, as your presence near each other tells it all.

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

Note: I won't keep plugging it in, probably like every few chapters so it doesn't get annoying haha, but if you'll like to tagged when I update for the next chapters, you can click here💞

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #tales the songs weave #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you

25 notes · View notes

5-puthyyy · 7 months ago

Text

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 3

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary:

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

The first week of living with Agatha and Rio has been difficult, to say the least. It’s been labour, labour, and labour, over and over again. You’ve had dirt under your nails after every morning with Rio in her garden, and you head right back inside to Agatha afterwards, letting her wash your hands clean as she tests you on Rio’s Earth Magick lessons.

The most difficult part is actually keeping your hands and eyes to yourself; it’s impossible not to lean into Agatha’s gentle touch as she rubs your hands with soapy water, taking her time to get your fingertips clean. A few days after this routine, she bought out a kit to care for your nails, cutting your nails short enough to not get dirt deep under them, then filing them down until they’re smooth.

“When will you teach me?” you asked Agatha one afternoon as she wiped your wet, freshly cleaned hands with a hand towel.

Agatha pauses, looking at you with amusement in her gaze. “Are you not satisfied with Rio’s teachings?”

Your eyes widen in panic as you immediately shake your head. “No, I am! I’m enjoying my lessons very much,” you answer, desperate to not seem ungrateful.

Agatha raises a brow at you. “Then what, pray tell, is the issue?” she teases with a knowing smile, standing up to place the towel on the side of the washstand. Your eyes follow her movements, glued to the way the tight brown vest she’s wearing shows off her figure that would be otherwise hidden by the flowy white shirt she has on under it, “I asked you a question, little dove.”

The sudden sternness in her tone grips your throat, forcing you to choke and stutter, falling into a sudden cough as nervousness takes over you. Her soft hands are on your cheeks in seconds, the commanding gaze in her eyes taken over by concern.

“Breathe, darling,” she soothes, her thumb rubbing at your temple, up and down, “Follow my lead,” she says, taking your hand to her chest before you can protest the closeness. It feels far too intimate, especially considering she has a lover, one that is just outside these walls tending to her garden.

“Agatha,” you pant out, trying to catch your breath but becoming even more breathless when you blink your eyes open to find Agatha’s eyes, darkened, hooded as you breathe her name out, “I–I’m sorry–”

“What ever for?” she says confusedly, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding your face in her gentle hands as if you could never do wrong in her eyes. She breaks away from you the moment she hears the backdoor opening then closing shut.

After that discussion with Agatha, something seemed to have switched. Rio was more distant in her teachings, mumbling incoherent thoughts to herself after she tasked you with planting a new type of flower using Magick. You’ve made a mistake or two, but after that you got the hang of it pretty quickly, sometimes whispering the incantations in bed to make sure you keep the memorised. But, distracted by thoughts of Agatha’s touch and Rio’s distance, you messed this one up.

“Come on,” you grumble frustratedly, whispering the incantation again and again but the only azalea that blooms is one that dies moments later.

Rio comes up behind you, twirling a large pair of scissors in her hands. She watches you fail again and again, humming as you get angrier and angrier with yourself. She only steps in the moment she sees your nails digging into the inside of your palms. Her hands cover your fists, the sudden touch shocking you, unexpected from her.

“Don’t do that,” she simply demands, nodding her head at you when you whisper an apology and relax your fingers. Hers relaxes on top of yours, hesitantly hovering. She doesn’t really want to let go, you think, hearing her ragged breathing behind you as she moves closer.

“Rio,” you breathe out, leaning into her touch as her nose brushes through your hair, gently resting against your neck. Your breath hitches as you hear her gently take a breath in, immediately growling and burrowing her face deeper, “Rio, is everything okay?” you manage to ask between your heavy breathing. Your words seem to bring her back to her senses as she freezes behind you for a moment before jumping back as if your skin was on fire.

Without another word, just quiet muttering, Rio spins on her heel and practically sprints back inside, leaving you to tend to her plants. Doing your very best, you take a deep breath and calm your mind, and whisper the incantation again until you get it right.

You don’t understand what triggered your dream a few nights later. Typically, the dreams that meet you are sweet, innocent, and peaceful. You suppose the feeling you had by the end of it was peaceful in a way, but it was definitely not innocent…

You dreamt of Agatha’s hands. She was sitting in front of you but you were on her and Rio’s bed, not your own. She had on the thinnest nightgown, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. But you barely had time to gaze at her, your eyes shut tightly the moment you felt those hands that are always so gentle to you, but this time they were gentle elsewhere. And as you moaned at Agatha’s touch, Rio was behind you, kissing you to breathe your sounds in, her earthy scent wrapped around your lungs.

You refused to let yourself dream this way since your banishment, as this was the very reason for it. There’s something wrong with you for wanting this, for wanting to be touched this way. Desire was wrong, is what your coven believed. All forms of it. You lived day-by-day, rationing food because it kept your gluttony tamed. The simple idea of wanting something more than the necessity was a terrifying thought to you as you grew up. Because the older you got, the more you wanted. You started to see things, see people differently. Men, and women, a sharp jawline, piercing eyes, lips so pretty and pink. You started to want. It was bearable, avoidable, until it wasn’t. Until you got caught.

You will not get caught again. You cannot be banished from here, you don’t think you could bear it. So when you woke up that morning, you beat yourself up in the mirror, glaring until the dream disappeared into the back of your mind. You applied some powder to hide the blush in your cheeks before finally making an appearance.

“Good morning,” you greet Rio and Agatha as you walk into the kitchen, “May I help with breakfast?” you offer with a warm smile, waiting patiently for an order.

The pair in front of you raise their brows suspiciously. Rio crosses her arms over her chest as Agatha continues stirring the pot over the fire.

“You wish to help?” Agatha asks with humour twinged in her tone.

You nod enthusiastically, clearing your throat before stepping forward. “The two of you have been incredibly kind to me. I feel I have not done enough to…to earn what you freely give.”

Agatha’s stirring pauses at this, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder. You cannot read her eyes this time, clearly unable to break through the extra guard she’s put up there. You were sure you used the right words; Agatha herself said you needed to earn their trust that first morning.

“We have to go. For a while,” Rio breaks the tense silence by dropping that pin. You freeze, your chest tightening as you try to fight the panic creeping up, “We have business to attend to.”

Agatha senses your fear and tries her best to soothe you before you begin to panic. “We will only be gone a short while, little dove, and we will be right back here. We have some things for you to do while we are gone.”

The reassurance that they will be back is enough for the panic to dissipate for now. But with that comes a new surge of humiliation at your feelings. You have only been here with them a short while, a few weeks now, and you already feel attached to them. This has become about more than just learning the ways of Magick. It has become about them, about the small moments spent with Agatha and Rio. Are you meant to wake up alone, have breakfast alone, tend to the garden and the household chores alone?

Agatha carries on, taking the pot off the heat and coming to stand in front of you. “I want you to study. I have books, spellbooks and history books, books of all kinds. It will surely keep your mind occupied, little dove,” she smiles softly at you, raising a hand to brush your hair out of your face. But that only exposes the fear in your eyes, fear of abandonment. Agatha frowns, shaking her head lightly and pulling you closer, this time into a hug. You breathe deeply as you bury your face into her neck, the scent of lavender and honey taking over your senses.

Rio’s hand suddenly presses against your back, startling you momentarily before her fingers trail up and down your spine soothingly. “We will be back before you know it, sweetling,” she reassures in a kind whisper, a freaky juxtaposition with the frowning look on her face.

The position reminds you of your dream; a soft wave of desire surges through you, making you swap a little, unsure whose touch you want to lean towards. They seem to sense your struggle, both leaning in until you have Agatha’s front pressed to yours and Rio’s pressed to your back. A soft sigh escapes your lips from the heat of their bodies. Strong but gentle arms creep until they’re wrapped around your waist, and another pair slither around your neck until you’re secure, warm, safe.

“We’ll be back,” Agatha whispers, her soft lips brushing against your flushed cheek, fingers gently sifting through your hair.

Agatha wasn’t lying when she said she had all types of books in her little study. The shelves are overflowed, disorganised with piles straight and some stacked together. There are even a few on the ground next to the various plants Rio has planted into pots scattered around. There’s Magick everywhere here; you can taste it each time you step into the space.

The spellbooks are complicated to understand without a teacher, so you pass on those after attempting to read a few pages. But it’s the history books that managed to catch your attention. You were unaware that there is a written history of your community, of witches. It took you a few chapters before you realised the handwriting is oddly messy. Once you reach the chapter titled ‘Agatha Harkness’ you slam the book shut, concluding that Agatha herself must have written this. It feels wrong to read the history of her life, a strange invasion of privacy. Not only that, but part of you wishes to learn things about her from her, spending more time with her and Rio.

After a while, you open it up again, but this time skipping her chapter. The next is entitled–

Oh.

‘Intimacy’.

It’s a chapter on sex, and the more you read, the faster your breathing gets, realising the majority of this is focussed on female relationships. It’s more of a history of sapphic culture within the witch community, emphasising the healing power of unity, and the heightened pleasure of mixing Magick with sex. It shocks you when you reach a page with an illustration of a coven in a forest, clearly all engaging in sexual activity together.

Slamming the book shut, you hurry to your bedroom and force yourself to sleep to avoid the heat pulsing between your legs – despite the Sun still shining brightly. But thoughts of Agatha and Rio find you in your dreams, forcing you awake in a sweaty gasp. This is wrong. It must be, as the alternative is all you have known your entire life is wrong, and that thought terrifies you.

You cannot think about them this way. You will not give in to the monstrous desire, and you will do all you can to tame it, as you should have done months ago. If you had, you would still have a coven, a family, and your mother.

Sleep will not find you that night and the Sun is only just setting. To avoid your thoughts, you decide to ready yourself to head back to the Inn for the night, needing a drink or two to hopefully lull you to sleep later. It is isolating in this cabin, despite it feeling like home now. It’s not home when you’re without them.

Unsure of when Agatha and Rio are to return, you decide to spend most of the evening at the Inn. It’s good to see some regulars still there, the singing man tipping his hat in apology when he spots you mid-song. The hour is later and your limbs are lighter after a few drinks, a few easy conversations, a few happy claps of your hands to the music. That is when she finds you.

“Y/N!” The innkeeper’s daughter yells out your name, rushing down the steps from her lodgings. She holds onto her dress to avoid tripping but lets go to tackle you in a deep hug.

“Catherine, it is always lovely to see you,” you greet her with a laugh as she squeals, refusing to let go.

You spend the entire evening together until the latest hours of the night, drinking one too many ales, and flirting with one too many drunken men just for the two of you to run off giggling. By the time the pair of you stumble outside for fresh air, half the Inn has taken to their lodgings or left to wander drunkenly.

The two of you press against each other for warmth as the night breeze dares to tease pushing Catherine’s dress up. The sounds quiet into a hum as you pull back with a giggle, eyes blurred from the ales running through your bloodstream. The blurry face looks like Rio’s sharp jaw, and those eyes look blue with the moonlight’s reflection reminding you of Agatha.

“You’re very pretty,” you mumble shyly, turning away when her eyes widen in surprise.

A shaky hand dares to brush against your jawline. “As are you, I always thought so,” she whispers as if it is just a secret between the two of you, “Will you tell me where you have been?” Catherine suddenly asks, her tone curious but only to hide her concern, trying to avoid telling you that she cares about you more than she should.

You turn your head away, clenching your teeth, and think of Agatha and Rio and the power they hold over you. “I cannot.”

Silence fills the space between the two of you and it makes you notice Catherine’s hand has been absentmindedly stroking your cheek for the last minute or so.

“Will you be back? Soon?” she pleads, frowning when you sigh and she takes it as a no, “Please, Y/N, I missed you dearly.”

Seeing the pained look in her eyes, you sigh again. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to visit more often; you have had an enjoyable night. You’re just unsure whether you would even want to leave when you have Agatha and Rio at home. “I will try. If not for the free ale, then for you,” you tease, pinching her cheek playfully as she giggles and leaves the softest of kisses on the tips of your fingers. She holds them against her lips, scared you’ll pull away from the intimacy, but your drunken mind soaks it up. It’s been terribly lonely at the cabin; a little attention here doesn’t hurt.

But suddenly, a throat clears by your side, forcing you to push her touch away in fear of being caught by an agitated drunken man. But what you find is far worse. There stand Agatha and Rio, dressed in acceptable dresses but their hair up in a quick tie, letting you know they came here quickly. Their expressions are mostly unreadable, dark and distant. Agatha’s jawline is clenched tightly, while Rio’s brows are down to her eyelids in a glare. But you can barely focus on that; all you can focus on is that they are here, and they look so beautiful, and your heart feels like it’s about to break through your chest.

“Oh, are we blocking the entry? Apologies, friends. Come in,” Catherine laughs, grabbing your arm as she pulls you to the side. Your body moves with her but your eyes stay glued to the silent pair.

“We were just passing by,” Agatha says curtly before turning and walking away, pulling Rio with her. A feeling of dread sinks into your stomach as you watch them walk off into the darkness without you, but you cannot follow, not now. It’ll be too suspicious. You must find the patience to wait before dismissing yourself from Catherine.

By the time you head back home? Can you call it home yet? By the time you head back to their cabin, you expect them to be asleep but you can see a few candles lit through the window. Not knowing where you currently stand with them, you hesitate by the door, unsure of whether you can just walk in. Choosing to remain respectful, you knock a nervous hand to the wood, waiting for the sound of footsteps.

Rio opens the door, the glare still on her face, though the disgruntled expression is one of her more common looks anyway. She says not a word, simply turning back to march inside, leaving the door open in a silent invitation. Agatha sits on her chair by the fire, a cup of freshly brewed tea in her hand. She refuses to look at you, instead choosing to stare out the window to the moon.

With the way the glow of the moon dances on her pale skin, she looks more beautiful than anyone you have ever laid eyes on. You cannot help but think the most skilled poets could spend years attempting to write the perfect words to describe her beauty but will only end up weeping in failure. No words could capture her.

“I did not know when you would return,” you whisper, clearing your throat when your voice croaks. Agatha does not move a muscle, so you continue, “I–If I knew, I would have been here, waiting, with–with tea, and I would have baked a pie, and–” you sigh as you cut yourself off, knowing the what ifs will do nothing to fix this, “I missed the both of you,” you settle, instantly regretting it as Agatha turns to you with a dark glare on your face.

“You missed us?” Agatha asks, her tone cold, angry, distant, “Dearly?” she adds almost mockingly, confusing your still tipsy head.

“Honey,” Rio interrupts, trying to calm Agatha down but now that she has looked at you she cannot stop the words from coming out. Her emotions take over her face, hiding nothing of what she feels.

“We have been gone for less than a week, Y/N, and you could not control yourself?”

Your brows scrunch together. “Agatha, I am sor–”

She interrupts, the chair screeching against the wooden floor as she stands up. “Have we not given you what you have wanted? Freedom? Acceptance? What have we done to displease you so? Can you not tame your desires?”

Desires. Of course it’s about that. Despite the history books in her study, she is just the same as…as your mother. This is not acceptance, this is just like the moment your mother caught you with the tradeswomen and locked you away while the coven decided what to do with you. But this time you will do it yourself before they can.

“Y/N, I did not mean it in that way,” Agatha immediately attempts to correct herself as she observes the way your face reacts to her words, connecting the dots on what you could be thinking about, but you’ve already spun on your heel to your bedroom, tears glistening in your eyes, “Little dove,” she calls out, her tone softer, quieter, more desperate, but you cannot hear anything over than her displeasure with you, “Please, wait a moment for me to explain what I mean by–”

The door slams shut behind you, your back pressed to it to prevent them from coming in. You drop down to the ground, sliding against the door, and let the tears fall.

masterlist + guidelines

pornwplot is better, fight me on this. its coming guys patience haha

#agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agathario x reader #rio vial x reader

91 notes · View notes

brins-rogers · 4 months ago

Text

paper rings ch. 01

{ azalea x edgar }

Warnings: swearing?? Slowburn, enemies to friends?? Friends to lovers???, mentions of addiction/substance abuse(character parent), sunshine x grump

Bullworth wasn’t a big town by any means, but somehow, she was lost. Not just a ‘oh, I’ll keep looking around and maybe find a landmark’ type lost, but lost where everything was unfamiliar, a growing pit of anxiety in her stomach as her head whipped around. All the rusty warehouses looked the same, too many docks that were all empty.

It didn’t help she was getting stares by most of the workers and people on this side of town. Blue Skies, the Industrial Park. Azalea had been lost in thought, walking and trying to clear her head at the news her best friend and longtime crush, Casey Harris, wasn’t into her. That he was dating Angie Ng, and what little chance she had with him was squashed.

Azalea stopped on a corner, trying to scan and see if maybe there was a bus stop that could take her back to the school, but she saw nothing. Busses didn’t even run to this part of town, and she could tell why. It was sketchy!

Hearing a loud gruff voice curse and a clang, she turned around to see some guy in an orange button up slam his fist down on the hood of his car. “Fucking piece of shit!” He exclaimed, running his hands through his buzzed hair before stomping to the drivers side. The engine sputtered, coughed, and went dead.

Azalea knew what that sound meant, she’d been working on cars with her dad since she was twelve. She tried to see what the guy looked like, maybe he would give her directions out of here? He didn’t exactly look friendly, but it was either ask him or ask the creepy adults that were staring at her a little too weirdly.

“Uh, hi?” She crept up quietly, his head snapping towards her. “What?!” He exclaimed, making her jump. He couldn’t have been that much older than her, thank god. He had a scar running down the left side of his face, and two tattoos on both his forearms. Was this one of the dropouts she’d heard Casey talk about so much?

“I … I was gonna say I could take a look at your car if you wanted? I’m pretty handy.” Azalea was literally shaking in her boots from just the way he stared her down. God, was he going to jump her? Mug her?

“Tch, yeah fucking right, kid.” He stated, popping the hood and motioning towards it. “Be my guest.” Oh, well, at least he wasn’t going to beat her ass. Azalea looked at him then to the car before padding over, sticking her arm elbow deep into the engine block.

Pulling out the all but destroyed radiator hose, she turned back to the guy with a shy smile. “Hose is fucked up. I can replace it easy. Just uh, stay here?” It wasn’t like he could just drive off. Thankfully she knew a trick to pop it back on with zero tools. Ricky actually taught her this one.

“Sure,” he folded his arms, leaning on his car as he watched her scurry off to the nearby auto store. Azalea had purchased a new hose, returning and replacing it quickly. Her tongue poked out of her mouth in thought as she screwed it back on snugly, feeling a few other things that weren’t too good.

Pulling her hands out and wiping them on her jeans, she looked up at him. “Crank it?” The guy shot her a sideways glance before huffing and sliding into the passenger seat. He cranked the car, a look of disbelief on his face when it actually sputtered to life. Azalea grinned to herself in triumph, thank god. She couldn’t replace his whole engine in the middle of the street, but thats damn near about what he needed.

He stalked towards her, looking at her with those narrowed brown eyes. He looked … angry, but what was new? “What’s the catch? Why did you do that? Who—who are you, actually? One of those stupid ass academy kids?”

She felt so small in his gaze, like he would devour her. A wolf stalking a little lamb. “I’m Azalea Collins, and … yeah, I go to Bullworth,” Azalea answered softly, struggling to maintain the intense eye contact with him. “There’s no catch, really! I’d just appreciate if you could maybe … just get me out of here? I’m really lost and bad at directions.”

His glare softened only slightly, looking down at her. “You just want a ride outta here?” She nodded quickly, her hands covered with oil and grease fidgeting. “Please?” He scoffed and turned his back towards her, stalking off to his car.

That’s it? He was just going to leave her after she’d so kindly fixed his car? What a dick!

He leaned over, opening the door for her from the driver’s side. Her heart damn near did a flip as she slowly approached, sliding in and carefully shutting the door. “Thank you,” her tone was soft as she buckled up. He turned to look at her before scoffing again.

“Whatever. What’s your address?” Azalea quietly told him, the two driving in an awkward silence. “You need to change your air filter, it’s gross. Actually, you need a lot of work done. It’s only a matter of time before your car just gives out completely.” She said, looking at him through her peripherals. He snorted, looking at her when they hit a light. “Do I look like a fucking mechanic to you? Or that I’m made of money?”

Normally, she’d shrink away when someone yelled at her. But for some reason unbeknownst to her, she kinda trusted this guy. Especially as familiar landmarks began to make their way past them. He really was taking her home.

“I can replace it. I have a spare in my garage.” She offered. He stopped a little harsher than necessary at a stop sign, hand on the back of her seat. “I’m not some fucking charity case, school kid. I don’t need your help.” He spat.

Azalea turned to face him, eyebrows slightly knit together. “Evidently you do. Like you said, you’re not a mechanic, and you’re not made of money, and I’m offering you free help. So why don’t you suck up your weird pride and just take it?” Her words shocked the both of them.

A grin spread across his face before he laughed, shaking his head and continuing to drive. “You’ve got guts kid, I’ll give you that.”

They were in her driveway not long after, Azalea unbuckling. It was a little disappointing she was home so soon. “What’s your name?” She asked, making him knit his brows.

“Why you care? You a fucking cop?” The redhead couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head. “No, I wanted to thank you for giving me a ride home.” “Then just say it, say thank you.”

Azalea just looked at him and blinked, smile not faltering. “Ugh, fine. Edgar.” She grinned a bit wider, turning to face him.

“Thank you for driving me home, Edgar.” He turned away from her, grumbling a little. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t mention it to anybody, school brat.” He paused for a moment before side eyeing her. “Thanks for … fixing my car, kid.”

Azalea beamed, opening up the door. “You’re welcome.” As she stood to get out, something came over her. God, this was a bad idea.

“If you need more help with your car, I can work on it, on the weekends? I just finished my project car so I have time on my hands.” She offered, heart pounding in her chest. Edgar turned to look at her and chuckled.

“Maybe. Get inside, school kid. And hey? Stay outta my turf.” The threat hung loosely, and quite frankly, it wasn’t a threat at all. Azalea could only grin. “Bye, Edgar. See you later.” She walked up the steps to her front door, shutting and locking it behind her. Once she was inside, she heard him pull out of her driveway.

Maybe he wasn’t such a dick after all, making sure she got in her house safe. Even if it was a bad idea, she really hoped he would take her up on that offer.

#bully cce #bully scholarship edition #bully se #bully oc #canis canem edit #edgar munsen #oc x canon

3 notes · View notes