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kiss-me-muchoo · 7 days ago

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𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐜 || 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Jinu left behind the woman he was supposed to marry, centuries later, he finds her again, learning that she was cursed to reincarnate until she was able to find real love (+ she was helping the demon hunters)

warnings_ cursed!reader, canon divergence, lovers to enemies to lovers, magical realism, fluff, angst, tension, reader implied to be foreigner but not actual descriptions, perhaps cringe, lengthy fic, no proofread (editing later)

notes_this is the second time i fall for an animated character, first time was miguel o’hara and i still love him very much, im 21 and not ashamed to write about this lol

♫ ♪ Saja Boys horrid playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

The wind was blowing so hard that your hair was a mess, flowing freely and getting tangled.

With a big smile on your face, you could only feel the adrenaline of running towards the end of the village, where the wild meadows awaited. And so did your lover too.

Men were going home after spending the whole day fishing, and women were carrying baskets of freshly made silk and linen too. Children were already gone, probably taking a bath in a big warm pot.

Women your age were already in bed but you couldn’t wait.

Not when Jinu was waiting for you at the meadows, even less when you had news to share with him.

Two weeks ago, your lover asked your father for your hand in marriage. At first, your old man said Jinu had nothing to offer you, that it wouldn’t work out. But the more you convinced him of how much you loved him, that you didn’t need to live in a palace to be happy, he started thinking differently.

And that night, as you ignored your quiet grandmother’s scary eyes, your father approved and allowed you to marry Jinu.

Your father’s mother was a mystery, she couldn’t speak, she was quite intimidating and you swore you could hear her sing in the middle of the night. Even your own mother seemed displeased by her presence, but didn’t say anything.

It was at the beginning of the meadows, when your running pace quickened. The beating in your heart mixed with joy and anticipation to get to Jinu.

When your head turned to look at the undergrowth nearby, your heart nearly stopped.

There was your grandmother, with her long grey hair and a beige gown. The sight was like a ghostly encounter, it sent shivers down your spine. It felt like a bad omen. Your stomach turned but you only ran faster. Thinking it was your mind playing tricks with you, you only kept running. Only that filled with fear.

Until you spotted a tall figure, you knew it was your home. Upon hearing the crack of branches, Jinu turned to look at you, and when he saw the many scratches in your face and arms, he grew worried.

“What happened to you?” He asked while inspecting your face.

“I guess I shouldn’t run like that again…” you answered with an attempted chuckle, opting to ignore the encounter with your grandmother.

His warm hands traced every scratch and while it burned, you would never move away from his touch.

“I have wonderful news, Jinu…” With a big sigh, you collapsed in his arms before speaking again. “My father said yes. We can marry now…”

You couldn’t see, but his face dropped, he remained quiet and when you felt he wasn’t hugging you back, you knew something was wrong.

“Jinu?…” you asked letting him go.

He stared at you in silence. You could see his perfect skin shining under the moonlight, his soft black hair that always smelled like tea, and the clothes you offered to wash for him and his family every week at the river nearby.

He was the only person you could imagine sharing the rest of your life with. But…

“We are not going to marry…” the words sounded unsure, even scared to say them out loud.

You stood there speechless, in shock. Suddenly the moonlight and Jinu himself weren’t enough, you started feeling the cool air hit against your body, making you shiver.

“Why?”

“I- Look… I found a better opportunity at…” you looked down at his hands and you saw a golden bracelet in his hand. Your face turns into one of disgust. Only people allowed into the palace wore that bracelet.

“Why would you do this to me?” Your hand dropped to your stomach, feeling the anxious feeling creeping all over. You couldn’t feel worse. And when Jinu remained still, in silence, your eyes grew teary.

“So you don’t love your family enough?” You asked and he looked down, ashamed.

“You don’t love me enough to marry me and find a better opportunity together?” When he still didn’t look up, you grew mad.

“Look at me when I’m speaking!” In a rush, you grabbed his chin and pushed it between your thumb and index finger, forcing Jinu to look at you.

“I’m sorry…” he attempted to say.

For the first time, you couldn’t feel the peace and comfort through his eyes. You could only see greed.

He gave up on you to pursue a better life; alone.

“You’re not sorry. You’re selfish and a bad man…” you spit out, letting go of his chin with anger. “Just know that every pain we cause comes with some karma to pay...”

You turned to run away, hearing Jinu calling your name, but you didn’t look back. You came back home running just as you left. Only that tears came as well.

Quietly, you opened the door of your humble home. There wasn’t a single candle illuminating the place, meaning that it was very late.

“That boy made a deal with a demon…” you nearly jump and died right there after hearing that voice.

When you turned to the corner of the chimney, there was your grandmother in her rocking chair.

Suddenly she could speak.

“You’re a witch?” You asked with terror when she stood up.

Her grey hair and almond eyes matched the aura of a witch who kidnapped children and made unimaginable things.

“I was disappointed when I gave birth to a man instead of a woman…” she revealed, making you feel beyond uneasy. “Imagine my surprise when I had a granddaughter who grew up with a fiery need to find love instead of keeping the lineage she comes from”

“I am not a witch” you firmly stated.

“No, you should’ve trained to be a huntress and that’s your biggest mistake” the more the old woman stepped closer, the more you wanted to run away. It was already enough pain to have Jinu’s words in your head repeating over and over.

“That boy preferred to follow a demon so his wishes could be granted, excluding you”

“Enough!” Your parents could be awake at any moment, and that would be worse, but you couldn’t hide your anger towards your said grandmother.

“May your soul be doomed until your heart beats with blood again” she started repeating in slow whispers, making you cry and yell back at her to stop.

“I said enough!”

Your left arm started burning, you cried in pain, until you ended up on your knees.

When you urgently inspected the skin, a trail of symbols appeared like magic ink. And when you looked up, the old woman was gone.

Nobody heard you, and nobody questioned your tattoo the following morning. When you knocked at Jinu’s mother's house, she told you through tears that he had actually left for the palace. That day your grandmother was found dead and within days, you and your parents were gone, back to the occident to finish your first life.

[Actually centuries later…]

A summer opportunity turned into an undefined job. When you left home to go to Korea and be a makeup brand creative director, you weren’t prepared to be gone for more than a month. But as the weeks passed, you found yourself accustomed to a new life. You started getting into the entertainment industry, with K-pop idols to be more specific.

Until you got the chance to make a collaboration between the makeup brand you were directing and Huntr/x or Huntrix. You had just met them and the three girls were nice, friendly, and were curious about the concept you were offering to them.

“And this is a cyber glam concept for the photo shoot…” you said while passing the three girls a bundle of pictures and collages.

“I love this, I think it’ll fit us perfectly” Rumi replied with a wide smile.

“Yep, agreed. This might be the one” Mira added, winking an eye at you.

“What do you say Zoey?” You finally asked the black haired girl who looked with detail at the concept.

“l-o-v-e it!” She yelled with excitement, hugging the papers against her chest.

“Sounds like we have a deal then…” the girls nodded at you and you excused yourself to have a little break.

After they picked the theme for the campaign and the break, the girls would have to try on costumes and pick the makeup for each one of them. But in the meantime, you would eat.

Outside the building, there was a little park with benches and lots of trees. You spotted an empty picnic table and you decided to have your salad and chicken katsu there.

It was nearly empty, not even the sound of the hatred city could be heard. Perfect place to feel pure peacefulness.

You ate in silence, a man in a business suit passed by and you heard the click of his formal shoes. He was hot, perhaps early thirties but very good looking.

And you remembered it had been so long since you had a boyfriend, the last relationship you had was back at home during middle school. It lasted years and took away a lot of the joy you were supposed to experience as a teenager.

When would you find real love?

An online palm reader said that it seemed hard for you to find a partner and that you were cursed. You asked if you could have your sixty dollars back but she blocked you.

You wanted a man who could be your best friend. To have a thing where souls seemed to be connected.

Distant sounds made you snap out of your delusions. Awkwardly, you stood up, looking around to find the source of the sounds.

Stepping into the bushes, you heard a growl. You froze.

A demon was taking the soul of the businessman you saw earlier.

Your loud gasp made the creature jump and try to attack you, tackling your body.

You tried to push the demon away, its touch hot and burning your skin, claws digging into your forearms, and saliva sliding down your neck.

You had always seen demons since you were a kid, but never interacted with them.

“Y/N!” Far away you saw Mira running towards you with Rumi and Zoey behind, carrying weapons. “Catch this!”

The woman threw you a fan and even in the middle of chaos, you sent Mira a displeased look.

“That’s all I had!” She yelled coming closer.

You tried to open the fan and noticed it was a regular item, not enough to kill a demon. With the demon trying to get your soul, you tried to set free the arm grabbing the fan.

Somehow, you managed to push the demon and before it could literally destroy your face, you felt your hand sliding the fan against the throat of the creature. And in a second, the creature vanished, leaving sparkles behind.

You frowned and gasped in horror.

“You’re a demon huntress like us!” Zoey yelled once the girls made it to your side.

“What?” You asked in confusion. “I’m a normal human being. I’m not-“

“Yes, you are! Look at the fan Mira gave you!”

But you weren’t exactly normal. Normal human beings couldn’t see demons so often, and they didn’t feel the constant sensation of déjà vu. At that moment you wondered if the palm reader was right. Were you cursed?

Mira and Rumi helped you to stand up.

When the four of you looked at the fan, it didn’t look the same, it looked like… a weapon. Similar to the ones the girls carried

“This is so weird” you whispered while shaking your head.

Rumi came closer and touched your shoulder with comfort.

“It’s okay, you might be confused but we can help” she said with a little smile.

“In fact, we’d actually also need you as well” Mira added with crossed arms while Zoey picked up the fan.

You sighed. Was there any other option?

“I don’t have much of many options… Right?”

“Nope” said the three girls with mischievous smiles.

…

Everything changed so drastically in a week. You moved into the same place with the Huntr/x girls and started moving away from the makeup brand creative director and more to be the biggest girl band creative director.

You designed their newest costumes and you couldn’t stop listening to their newest release “Golden”. In terms of demon hunting, you had assimilated the situation and you started helping them. The more you heard them talk about the hideous Gwi-Ma and types of demons, you got to be able to see the world as they did. With blue, but with growing red spots.

In your room, you've got to write and ramble as you used to do before. Only that you forgot to lock the door, even to close it.

“Are you singing ‘Golden’?” Startled, you looked at Rumi in horror.

“Yes, I told you I loved the song…”

“You can sing!”

“No I don’t” you say with a little smile.

“YES, YOU CAN!” Mira and Zoey screamed from the living room.

Rumi and you burst into laughter and you shrugged.

“I like singing. But.. I don’t know…”

“You could be an idol one day” Rumi said with enthusiasm.

“God no!”

“Yes! You can sing, we know you can dance and you have tons of creativity to do something cool”

“I don’t know, Rumi…”

Through the door frame, Mira appeared, looking uninterested in her phone.

“The doctor said he’s having us look at Rumi” she said.

Both of you nodded and when Mira disappeared, Rumi grabbed your arm before you could stand up from the bed.

“You can count on me that I won’t tell them about your patterns” you assure her after seeing her worried face.

You had seen her arms by accident. And you weren’t scared, but confused and curious.

“Thank you, y/n” she said with a smile.

“Sure. But you have to tell them…”

Rumi nodded, as she watched you changing into a jumpsuit.

…

The Huntr/x girls forgot about one extra box of medicines for Rumi. You went back inside the clinic and when you got out, you could hear a crowd and music. And then you spot your friends at the end of the hallway.

Confused and irritated by the sudden change of plans, you jog towards the girls who decided to walk closer, getting lost in the crowd.

“What is going on?” You asked.

“We bumped into some hot guys and turns out they are a new boy band” Zoey turns to tell you with fake disgust.

“Yeah and these two were drooling for the one with abs” Rumi joked, making fun of them.

“We were not drooling” Mira said while rolling her eyes, trying to convince you. You only chuckled.

“Look at them, they dance perfectly in sync” Zoey commented.

Saja Boys; sure what the hell.

♫ ♪ You’re all I can think of

Every drop I drink up

You’re my soda pop

My little soda pop ♫ ♪

What a lame and silly song; you thought.

And then you found yourself mumbling at the melody. So you were finally able to see the group of apparently perfect men. It was such a catchy song; you then thought.

Pastel hairs, colorful clothes, cute faces, and… That face.

As if you had entered into a noise-canceling bubble. You locked your eyes with the leader and an indescribable sensation started covering all of yourself.

He was tall, with perfect skin, perfect features, black hair and… he seemed so familiar.

“Look at me when I’m speaking!”

“I’m sorry…”

“You’re not sorry. You’re selfish and a bad man…”

Voices started to fill your head. Then images, of you in an ancient village, coming from the occident with your family. Meeting a man who became your best friend. He asked your father to marry you. And then… he left you.

Jinu…

Then the woman who cursed you.

“May your soul be doomed until your heart beats with blood again”

You nearly fainted when you heard the music again.

“Are you alright?” Mira asked and you started shaking your head.

“I want to leave” you managed to say with a broken voice.

And then you felt it, his eyes on you.

“What?” Rumi asked once she looked at you so distressed and anxious.

“Don’t ask, just help me take her out of this!” Mira told her.

The girls hurried to move through the crowds and when the Saja Boys' music started to sound distant, you sighed in relief.

The worst part? You knew he had seen you.

…

The smell of herbs filled the wide living room. At the table in the middle rested your smelly cup of tea. Rumi, Zoey, and Mira looked at you with wide eyes and expectant faces at your marked arm.

That night you four had followed the Saja Boys and tried to fight them. You helped Rumi to slip away from Jinu and you seemed to be his weakness, since he let go of your friend easily before you two disappeared from his sight.

“So you are cursed to reincarnate until you find love?” Zoey asked.

“I guess so… Things can’t stop getting weirder” you admitted in a low voice.

The trio of girls exchanged looks.

“And Jinu was the man you were going to marry?” Rumi asks politely, then you nod.

“We were poor, and I never wanted more but he… disposed me. Like we never meant anything…”

You bent to grab your cup of tea under the curious look of the girls.

“My paternal grandmother hated me for pursuing love instead of listening to her to become a witch, sorceress… Now I think she was a demon huntress. So she was pissed at me for not continuing the linage. And she cursed me…”

“Wow, this is… A lot of info” Zoey commented, throwing herself on the couch.

“Huntrix is strong and will manage just fine. But… I don’t think I can kill him” you admitted with a slight blush appearing in your cheeks.

“I can’t believe what I’m gonna say but… Maybe Juno didn’t mean to hurt you and his family” Mira said, earning shocked faces from everyone. “What? I mean, the whole story sounds like a folktale but it’s real. They must be soulmates”

Soulmates… Jinu was a demon. And you hadn’t talked to him in 400 years.

“I promise I will try my best to focus on the Honmoon and not on him” you add before drinking the tea in one single shot. “Now, this tea will make my memories a little blurry for some days. So… let’s not talk about this again, okay?”

The girls looked at you with a little bit of pity. But they nodded back at you.

…

The effects lasted two days. You spent locked in your room writing a few songs for Huntr/x, as well as making a collage for their upcoming performance at the Idol Awards.

Soft music played as you went in and out of your balcony. The heat was starting to become unbearable and you decided to work outside since the mosquitoes didn’t reach the height of your home.

You sang fully relaxed as you moved across the room. Printed images of ideas of the graphics and everything are scattered and a sudden blow of wind made a slight mess of the work you had already done.

“Oh no…” you whisper, kneeling to collect all of the images.

One was missing and you couldn’t find it until a hand offered it. You jumped right there, literally crawling backwards.

When you looked up, there you had it.

The reason why you were cursed and recently developed mixed feelings for.

Jinu was eyeing you with attention.

Both of you stared for what felt like an hour. Your palms were sweating and still holding the images as if they depended on your life.

“You remember me” he stated, the sound of his voice only confirming every flashback you had, every feeling you felt. It was real… You actually loved that man centuries ago.

“The moment I saw you I remembered everything…” you knew he started eyeing you up and down the moment you looked away from his eyes. Just like he used to do when he watched and got all wet when you washed clothes in the river. You blushed, just like you used to do as well.

“How?” He seemed to not be able to believe it. That he had his great love right upon his eyes. You looked the same but… so different. Your soul had changed, from a bright blue, it was shining in green. Meaning that your soul had been overworked. And then, you showed him your arm with the odd symbols.

“When you left, my grandmother cursed me for choosing you above the lineage of my family” you revealed while accommodating the pictures like you had them before the wind came.

“I reincarnate. I can’t remember how many times I’ve lived, but I’m pretty sure I always die young. And I will continue to do so until I find real love”

Jinu kneels across you, the images and papers being the only barrier between you two. You looked up to meet his gorgeous gaze again only to find him looking at you in awe.

“What we had was real love” he placed his hand on top of yours and it left you speechless for a second. A strong feeling of nostalgia hit you. His touch was cold now, but even there you felt the warmth you used to feel.

But you could also see his faint patterns, making you remember he was a demon. And you, an unofficial demon huntress.

“You treated me like I was nothing” you spat out with anger.

He sighed, looking at his fingers with yours before you could move your hand away.

“Yes, and the moment I tasted the luxuries of the palace I regretted it. I couldn’t leave anymore, I made a deal with Gwi-Ma and I was forced to face the consequences of my acts” he says with desperation and a hint of pain. “I wanted to give you and my family the world. And when I knew you weren’t included, I was still selfish. And for four hundred years, I’ve been consumed by the guilt”

“Good, because you deserve it. You’re a demon and that’s the least you could feel as such a thing” you said with lots of venom as you yanked from his hand.

“And now you’re a demon huntress…”

“I just help my friends…”

“I never meant to hurt you. I’ve spent all this time lounging to have you right in front of me and tell you how much I’m sorry. That I need you and I don’t think I’ll ever want someone as bad as I want you”

You stood up, turning around, doing your best to ignore the pang in your heart and the pulsing of your arm, right where the tattoo was.

Was it rightfully fair to be mean? Maybe not… but you were scared after all. Having Zoey, Rumi, and Mira right at the other side of the door, and a demon with you wasn’t ideal.

And you started remembering how much you loved him. And how happy he made you.

“If you truly want it. I can help you break the curse. I’d do anything for you, y/n…”

You stared at the wall in silence, feeling the wind come again. And when you turned around, Jinu was gone.

…

You should’ve known it was a trap orchestrated by Rumi and Jinu. When Rumi convinced you to go on a mission to a random rooftop to help her rehearse, you had no problems. Until you spotted him at said rooftop already.

“It’s none of my business but I think it’s quite worth it to make you two talk…” Rumi said with a nervous smile as the Derpy tiger and bird in a hat followed your friend away.

You sighed loudly, throwing your head back and putting your hands on your hips.

“I- I don’t know why Rumi is doing this. It’s dangerous…” you admitted out loud.

Jinu steps closer, eyeing you up and down, this time, catching his gaze on you.

“What are you looking at?” You asked suddenly feeling nervous.

“Your body, face, every mole and birthmark you had are in the same place…” you didn’t think he would remember. But he was proving you wrong.

And his comment affected you so much that you didn’t notice the moment he stepped beyond your personal space. You tried to step back, but he grabbed your waist with his big hands and the gesture made your legs feel wobbly. Slowly, you started to remember the exact shade of his eyes, the pink of his lips, and the size of his hands.

“You really missed me that much?…” you dared to ask with a sultry tone of voice.

Jinu blushed. His cheeks turned pink and his lips formed a nervous line, which made you chuckle.

Unable to resist the proximity, you placed both of your palms on his chest and immediately transported both of you to those summer nights at the village. Midnight sighs and soft touches, eager to wait till marriage but unable to ignore the curiosity hidden under the robes.

“I don’t even know why you’re here. What do you intend to do. But-“

“I feel it too…” Jinu finished for you.

Even when you knew that under that perfect skin, eyes, and lips you used to kiss every day, there was a demon. But deep down, you knew you’d love him despite all.

You stepped closer, hands pressing tightly against him. He leaned forward, holding your hips and you closed your eyes already knowing you’d be able to taste his lips again.

“We gotta go… Zoey and Mira are wondering where we are” Rumi said appearing in the middle of the scene, shocked to see you and Jinu tangled together. “OH! Uh- I’m sorry…”

“It’s not what you think so!” You hurry to tell your friend.

“It is what you are thinking but uh- yeah…” Jinu awkwardly said.

Shame invaded you and you don’t even look back at Jinu. You caressed the cat’s head and the tip of the bird’s hat before smiling to yourself as you started following Rumi.

“What was that?’ She asked while teasing.

“Nothing” you say, your smile growing bigger.

…

“No, no, no. Don’t wake up…” you heard a distant voice, but you eventually woke up.

In your bed was Derpy and the bird were sleeping. When you looked to the right, at the edge of the bed, there was Jinu. In pajama-striped pants and a hoodie.

“I didn’t want to wake you up…” he admitted with shyness.

“You just wanted to stare at me sleeping like a creep?” You asked with sarcasm, rolling onto your side and yawning.

“What? No! I just-, I wanted to see you…” Jinu said, combing his hair, a sign of nervousness.

“Where is your gang?”

“Sleeping… As we should, I guess”

“Are they your friends or did you just recruited them?”

“A little bit of both” Jinu confessed with a smile.

“If things were different. I’d ask you if I could meet them, I don’t know why but I’m curious…”

“Fair point, half of the world is too” you knew he wanted to hold your hand. So you just moved it closer to him.

“So you’re now an idol? Singing you’re my little soda pop?” Your question filled with teasing made him blush and it earned you a playful punch on your hip.

“It’s catchy…” Jinu attempted to defend himself and the band.

“It is… I’ve started singing it with Zoey”

He held your hand and it made your stomach flip. Then traced invisible patterns across your face.

“This is how I remember your skin. But I also really like how you look with makeup…” slowly, you smiled at his words.

“The modern look also fits you well. You look hot…” it was his time to blush, and it made you cackle.

Jinu loved making you laugh, he loved everything that involved you but being able to make you laugh again, made him feel less demonic and more… human.

“I’m gonna miss it” he said gently tapping at your cheek.

“What thing?” You asked in confusion.

“Everything about you…” he admitted. “That was the deal with Gwi-Ma, I stop Huntr/x and I get all my memories erased”

You frowned.

“But I don’t want you to forget me…”

His heart stopped. His throat tightened and he had to hold your hand more firmly.

“Sleep, beautiful” he said as he started to brush your hair with the tip of his fingers.

In seconds, the gesture made you go back to sleep.

…

Jinu was going insane.

You almost kissed him, and he appeared in your bed to tell you that he wanted to forget everything. Only for you to tell him that you didn’t want him to forget you. It nearly made him cry.

You asked him about the things that made him happy and you told him you wished things were different.

Then the Idol Awards happened. And you yelled at him when he and the rest of the Saja Boys ruined the Huntr/x performance. Zoey and Mira grew mad at you for helping Rumi keep her patterns secret. And as Jinu used his voice to attract people, he realized how unfair he was being to you once again.

The woman he loved was cursed because of him. And he couldn’t actually help you. Or so he thought.

You still loved him, he knew.

Jinu didn’t think twice before jumping from the stage to help you when he saw a demon scratching your face.

He saw you using your fan but it only attracted more creatures.

It was still a mystery to him to know how you learned to fight and for how long you trained. There were a lot of unanswered questions. Immediately forgotten when he got rid of the demons and offered you a hand to stand up.

He could at least try to save you. To stop you from reincarnating once again and living a memorable life.

“I love you!” he screamed.

“What?” You screamed back.

“I love you! And I will always do” Jinu said and you couldn’t help but fear and grab his arm. “We’ll meet again, my dear…”

“What are you doing?” He sighed and gave you a smile filled with joy and sadness at the same time.

You looked back at Rumi, fighting against Gwi-Ma himself on the stage and you understood Jinu’s plan.

“Jinu, don’t you dare…”

“It’s the only way to end this!”

“No, don’t leave me alone again!” It broke his heart. Seeing you with tears in your eyes and begging him.

He kissed you and this time you couldn’t do anything but focus on the way his lips moved against yours, carefully trying to remember every detail. Promising to remember that kiss for the rest of your life.

You looked at his real form. His demon glowy eyes, the lilac skin, and darker patterns covering him. His fangs and pointed fingers. You couldn’t give a fuck.

“I love you” he repeated making you accept that he had made up his mind.

“I love you too” you admitted between sobs.

Even when he started running back towards the stage, you tried to pull him back, to keep him with you. But he went ahead. The only thing you did was to pull a rusty bracelet from him, the gold bracelet he got to get into the palace back then. You sobbed harder, getting rid of demons that still attempted to get your soul. And as you watched Gwi-Ma disappear as every demon and Saja Boy, the bracelet turned into ashes. Your tattooed arm pulsated and when you looked at the skin, you gasped in shock. The symbols had disappeared, and the skin was free from any mark.

…

For the whole world, it was the biggest performance in the history of K-pop, to Huntr/x and you, more than just a performance.

Your friendship with the girls only strengthened and they convinced you to do he craziest thing you’d done so far. Debuting as a soloist…

Using Y2K and sequined themes, you built a concept and soon, with Zoey’s help, you were able to create songs. Mira trained you to be a great dancer and Rumi vocalized with you every night. Even before your first song was released, you already had many fans. At the same time, haters disliked you for allegedly using Huntr/x to gain fame of your own but most of the people seemed to be loving you and your debut song “Karmic”.

And of course, it was related to him. The song being about shining despite being bound to face karma for trying to get back a man you loved and who was gone.

It had been two months to be exact. Your debut happening only three weeks later after everything happened. It was your only escape to not focusing on the scar his departure left.

Maybe you were free from the curse. Your skin free from any proof of said curse. But completely scarred by Jinu’s memory.

In a dream, everything was darkness. And the only thing you were able to see, was that old lady who centuries ago was your grandmother, the woman who cursed you.

“Curse begone, make a wish…” she said.

You froze, then she showed you the rusty bracelet you pulled off from Jinu.

“I want him back. I want him to be happy and have everything that made him happy. I want him by my side and to be happy for the rest of my life with him” you yelled with tears in your eyes.

And then you woke up, tears actually came and you wiped them away.

It was the day of your debut album and first mini-concert. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey literally threw open your door and came to sit by the feet of your bed.

“Are you ready for today?” Zoey asked.

“Yeah, I think so…” the three girls smiled at you and started rambling about the busy schedule you had for the day.

“We’ll be by your side the whole day, don’t worry” Rumi assured you.

“Thanks, Rumi”

You stood up to look at your balcony and the sky was full of small clouds that made it look so dreamy. The skyscrapers shone with the sun’s reflection and a Saja Boys comeback giant poster was hanging from one of them.

A SAJA BOYS COMEBACK GIANT POSTER WAS HANGING FROM ONE OF THE SKYSCRAPERS!!!!!!!!!

“Uh… girls, Are you looking at the same thing as me?” They stood by your side and gasped in shock.

“No way” Rumi whispered.

“No. It might be a song they recorded before and the people who managed them are desperate to keep making some money” you assured them, also assuring yourself.

“Yeah, y/n is right” Mira agreed with you, arm around your shoulders.

You looked at Jinu, smiling in the poster.

How badly I miss you, my love; you thought.

“Are you okay with seeing… him?” Mira asked.

You nodded, smiling. Unable to feel sad, because that day was all about you.

“Yeah, let’s go to have some breakfast” you replied, hugging the girls.

“Bobby is here” Mira revealed.

“BOBBY!” He became your manager as well and you liked the man. He was a great guy and even a friend.

You had so many questions about the upcoming concert and presentations.

But you were excited, so you decided to enjoy the day with your friends as well.

…

If the public could describe you in two words, that would be: sultry and cutting-edge.

Half of your songs being dance/club hymns and the other half being crude, strong lyrics with unusual sounds that created an artistic sense.

Singing full songs glued to a microphone covered in rhinestones and then dancing while singing was a little bit more ingenious than you thought. But you were having so much fun. Changing into different attires in less than a minute and having sips of water in between was exciting.

Mira was cheering, satisfied with how good you danced.

“Look at the piece of art I created” she joked with Zoey and Rumi.

“I love that part of the choreography” Rumi added as they watched you.

“Yeah but let’s calm Bobby. He’s on the verge of collapse after seeing how sensual the song and dance are” the trio of girls started cackling, looking at their manager who looked nervous at the public and sponsors.

But everything was in order.

Until you got to the after party. A club a few blocks away from your place with the girls. A lot of magazines and artists wanted to be at your party. As unbelievable as it sounded, you were officially a celebrity and idol. Far from being tired, you danced with Mira all night, and couldn’t stop laughing along with Zoey and Rumi.

But you needed to take a break. To savor happiness alone for a moment. You stepped out to the empty terrace of the place and the distant music was the only sound. The sky was almost completely dark and you sighed in disbelief. You turned around, leaning backwards against the railing, and saw a man approaching.

You thought it was Bobby. But no…

You stopped breathing and for a second you thought you had died.

How was it possible that Jinu was standing, looking like a human and very much alive in front of you?

You threw yourself into his arms, and he was actually there. Tears prickled in your eyes and you heard him chuckling as he hugged you back.

“Is this real? I’m not drunk and making all of this in my head?”

“No, you actually brought me back…” he whispered in your ear, then kissing your temple over and over again. “You smell a lot like alcohol actually. But it’s real…”

He was joking, Jinu was joking. But there you had the love of your many lives in your arms.

“You re-appear after I saw you dying and you decide to joke right now?”

So the dream was real…

“I woke up and I was here. My mom and sister live, and the Saja Boys too. A call from our manager telling us that our comeback was scheduled woke me up” he said. “I thought I was dreaming but no. Then my mom asked me if I wanted to have breakfast and there was my sister looking at you in the tv. You were singing a song and… I just knew it was real”

“I had a wish in a dream and I begged to have you back” you revealed. “So your soul. Is finally yours again?”

“I got trapped in Rumi’s sword. But your wish set me free… thank you” Jinu grabbed your cheeks and smiled fondly at you.

“For the man that I’ve been in love with for centuries? Everything….”

“Even after all the pain I caused you, you save me and willingly keep loving me?” you shrugged with a smile.

“You’re worth it. You were since the moment I met you, Jinu” you accepted, placing his hands on your waist and pushing him down to kiss him.

His cheeks felt hot under your palms and you knew he was blushing once again.

Amidst the kiss, you smiled. And he felt that pure joy again. He could finally live with you just like it was ment to be the first time. He could be a man his age and breathe knowing he would age and fill his purpose along you.

“We both are idols now” he commented with a little smirk.

“Are you ready for all the scandal we’ll cause when our fans learn that we’re together?” You asked him, still in his arms, not daring to move away as Jinu chuckled.

“The sooner the better. I didn’t like many of the looks people would throw at you at the concert…” he revealed with a disgusted face and your eyes went wide.

“You saw me?”

“Of course I did… And I have to admit I’m quite surprised” his teasing tone made you laugh nervously but also nudge him playfully.

“Why? Did you like my outfits? And the way I danced?” Making him nervous, you cackled.

“I’m not used to this modern you yet” he said.

“Well, buckle up, honey. Cause I’m hardly letting you slip off of me and I’m not changing” you threatened before kissing him again.

“Good for me” he assured you while gasping for air and returning to passionately kiss you.

In the modern times you were leaving, Jinu and you didn’t have to wait till marriage. And thank goodness, because you wouldn’t have to explain much to Mira, Rumi, and Zoey the following morning as to why Jinu was in your bed and why the rest of the Saja Boys rested with a hangover at your place with them.

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Taglist: @nina-from-317 @gloriousqueen101 @birbtweettweet @akariis4snowball @nekee-lilac02 @yourtypicalhuman09 @ffcfffr @ilovemuhusbandnanami @foxxbee-2963 @hara23 @akeaaan @kaorisakamotofan @kyuki07 @siasoup @vvidka @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee @oreeowe @anakinsrilgirlfriend @thecordelialetters @vixyvlo @iviorienne @loonalockley @bre99 @ateezswonderland @crescent-z @gina239 @aerrz3 @theblackestbitch

♫ ♪ reader’s inspired debut setlist:

•Karmic is similar to Zen from JENNIE in my mind

1. Spark - WINTER AESPA solo

2. Me Against The Music - Britney Spears, Madonna

3. Lifestyle - LISA

4. So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek

5. earthquake- JISOO

6. Sober II (Melodrama) - Lorde

7. THAT’S A NO NO - ITZY

8. Fetish - Selena Gomez, Gucci Mane

#jinu x reader #jinu x you #jinu kpdh #jinu #jinu kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters #jinu saja boys #saja boys #saja boys x reader #saja boys x you

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 6 days ago

Note

I'm so curious now, what did the reddit creeps say about your bath snacks post? Tumblr interpreted it pretty poorly sometimes so I'm curious how much worse reddit was

Lol, yeah, so

That post has gone past 100K notes on Tumblr, so you naturally get the full range of responses. It's therefore all about proportions. I obviously haven't run actual stats here, but I would estimate the following:

Majority commented some variant on "this is adorable" (including the popular variants "me and who", and "lord I see what you have done for others"). 70%

Significant minority was tagging with fandoms, with one example of fanfic and one memorable example of someone screenshotting, erasing mine and Steff's names, and replacing them with their blorbos. 25%

A smaller minority tags it with the phrase "the straights are alright" or similar sentiments, and have to be informed that neither of us is straight. 3%

A very small minority who can't seem to shut the fuck up about their opinions on bath snacks and don't seem to have heard of the advanced technology that is plates, being as they are absolutely convinced that the snacks would definitely either pour a torrent of crumbs directly into the bath like the dammed outflow of the Yellow River, or become physically saturated with water as I ate. 1%

About 3 people total who tried to tell me this was actually a fetish for my husband that I was innocently unaware of and ORDERING me to nurture it for the sake of his emotional and sexual happiness (lol for many reasons). <1%

1 single incel who lost his entire fucking mind when he saw the phrase "eager bathroom butler" because he thought it was sexist and demeaning to my poor abused husband and went on a weird rant that concluded with "I hope you've learned not to describe someone who loves you like that ever again." <1%

So, yeah. The main issue by a country mile has been the blorbo tagging. Which! In actual fact! Is not in and of itself a problem! Provided, that is, you FIRST acknowledge the real life human beings the post is about. And there has been plenty of that, and I don't mind that at all. Stuff like "Oh my god this is so sweet! OP your husband is amazing. Also this is making me think of (blorbos)"

Respectful, recognising that real human beings exist and not just to be fodder for your fanfic, giving praise where it's due to the star of the post (my husband). I have no issue with that at all.

MEANWHILE OVER ON REDDIT

Almost every single comment was one of the following:

Anything so you can see a naked woman amirite hurr durr

He's definitely doing it so she'll fuck him later haha hope she put out

Wow this dude clearly wants to be her sex slave

And like. What the fuck. What the literal and figurative fuck is that. He sees me naked every day, our sex life does not require transactions, and I'm sorry no one has ever loved you for you to know this, but sometimes you do things for your partner because the end goal is them being happy rather than you being horny.

Absolute wankers to a man.

#asks #compared with that I'll take the blorbos

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edensrose · 24 days ago

Text

˖ 𑣲 The Dragon's Flower ✧ Sweet Sin

˚₊‧꒰ა dragon.ᐟ satoru gojo ﾉ sacrfice.ᐟ reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ after deciding to stay with the supposed “heartless dragon” & learn his ways of magic, you find yourself growing fond of him. as you both grew closer, it's only natural that you'd notice him avoiding you one week. you venture to his room in concern one day, and find him in a peculiar position . . . ꒰ ᡣ𐭩 ꒱ monster romance ˖ dragon heat ˖ conflicted toru ˖ handjob ˖ ovipósition mention ˖ kinda angsty end ˖ 2.9k ˖ the dragon's flower masterlist

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ eden , ain't none of you prepped. link in the fic is to help visualise the dick ( shape not colour ) ⌇ art cred : myuchiisu

Cool tones painted the mountaintop. Azure streams and rivers, the pale, sometimes murky sky. White orchids and lotus flowers that waved in serene breezes to clouds kissing the the citadel. A world of blue and white, much like its master — mow, all washed into something warmer, fiery.

Red faced, bathed in the auburn glow of candles and cloaked in sandalwood incense. Even his eyes, while the same bright blue, peered like two coals from beneath heavy white lashes. Smouldering, crackling, were dragons not susceptible to fire?

"Satoru." All formality drained the second you spotted his shaky form on the futon. White haori nowhere in sight and his dark, unbuttoned kimono pooling around his waist. That scaly heap slumped over his lower half must be his tail. Had it grown larger or was that the dimness?

His strained pants would have anyone believing he flew around the mountain ten times and over. With the shaky limbs and beads of sweat caught in the candle flickers, you wouldn't be too surprised.

Something rumbled. His voice? Deep, grave and as murky as the waters that brought you here.

"You need to leave."

Shivers pricked your spine. You might have mistook it for the first time you saw him if fear bloomed with it. Fear, how could you? Even with his jaw tight, scales littering him like the white-jade and those slitted eyes cloudier than the mountain's midnight haze, he was still Satoru.

Your body still drew to him. "Are you alright?" Your knees met the futon and he grunted with a shift. You followed, but irritation caught on your legs halted you. Claw marks etched in cotton with glistening sharpness coiled beneath fists as the culprit. Are those longer too?

As a woman raised in a superstitious village who wailed when someone cut their nails at night or flinched when combs broke, you should have known better. But instead of alarm bells, all you heard were wind chimes.

Because this was Satoru. The man who tickled instead of clawed, laughed instead of bit, protected the valley when villagers claimed he had a taste for hearts. Not a monster.

"Sweet girl," he called in a quake. "I'm fine, promise." You've seen enough of his smiles to know when they're fake. "Please, just. . . you need to leave, sweet girl." The name repeated, it eased him more than the cold springs.

"Like hell . . . are you sick? Can dragons even get sick?" He'd fall off the futon if he tried to escape, so you advantageously shifted nearer. With closer inspection you spotted gills in lithe, blue patterns from below his ears to just before his jawbone. Scales shimmered on full display all over his lower neck, collarbone and down his chest. Another glimmer belonged to a pair of tiny, teardrop-shaped. . . pearls? engraved above his navel.

Realisation snapped your venturing gaze back up. Your hand flushed against his forehead to mask your embarrassment. His tensing became your distraction.

"You're burning up . . ."

"No shit, sweetheart."

Iridescent claws displayed as he raised to your hand with a groan. But he didn't dare touch. As if only a graze of your skin would burn him like dark magic. Dark . . .

You quirked, "did you get spelled by miasma?" With the same exuberance of a student that recalled the technique seconds from peril. A dragon's weakness to dark magic rushed to your mind, courtesy of all Satoru had taught you.

Alas, he shook his head with another groan. You slumped your shoulders and pouted. "Please, I'm too old for that. Said that was for younger dragons, remember?"

"Well excuse me, old man."

At least that earned a laugh but your face remained. too concerned with every heave of his chest and stuttered breath, not to mention that his gaze kept running from yours. What, were you fire now? "Tell me what's going on," you urged and carefully traced your fingers along the side of his neck. He flinched. Perhaps your touch was a flame.

"Satoru —"

"Fuck, I'm serious."

Her jerked back. You halted, but not because he denied your touch for once. Low and dreary, the rumbled growl belonged to the night and yet . . . you still drew closer.

Stubborn as always. Like the incense, his gaze wavered, to and fro. Peeking, hiding. From himself or something you couldn't decipher?

Your eyes followed the quick drop of his hand and beat him to it. Prodding up into the fabric of his kimono, a tent awaited. As a village girl spoonfed the importance of chastity, you should have flinched at the sight. But while you knew purity's name, she didn't know yours.

Whose face was brighter? Maybe his with that infuriatingly smooth pale skin and snowy hair that almost left him glowing even in the candlelight. In all your months staying here, not once had red paint his face more vibrant than his stupid grins ever did. Nor did he ever attempt to hide or stutter.

"Are you happy now? Go, I can't have you here."

Can't. Not won't. Not I don't want. You pressed your lips together.

"Could you tell me what's going on?"

"Stubborn girl," even his growl laced with affection. He snapped you a sharp look and huffed heavily. "I'm in heat. Rut. Whatever you humans call it. And right now, you cannot be here."

He always prided himself on teaching you about the mystics hidden in this world, but your curiosity would be the death of him. Only seconds after discovering he was erect, you still had questions. Is that why they sacrificed you? — no, that's mean. Why they sacrificed you and why he couldn't have you in his room right now were the same reason. Not with your image in his mind . . .

"Satoru." Not when you said his name like that. Not when every syllable whispered a sin he wasn't willing to commit.

"Let me help."

You were definitely sacrificed for more than just your pretty face.

You'd think you had stolen his tide jewels with the glare he shot you, but even that was pathetic. If you asked prettily enough he'd pluck them from his flesh and press them into your palm with a kiss to each knuckle.

Satoru realised something frightful in your near-year on the mountaintop. To pry his eyes from a lotus flower such as yourself, or deny her, were impossible feats — and right now? Only his mind rejected the offer. Barely.

"Absolutely not." He sat up, miscalculating how he'd flush up into you as a result. At last he touched you, his large palm knocked clumsily on your shoulder. "Are you crazy? Aren't you a village girl? Haven't they taught you better?"

"Thought me pulling a knife on you back then should have answered that question."

"You're not a human, you're a siren."

"Thought those didn't affect you?" Neither should your hand that brushed on his wrist and your body that swayed closer to him, like tides kissing the shores when his kimono caressed your yukata. Sirens didn't affect him, and yet your voice masked in the song of one did.

Your boldness knew no bounds. Instead of blades aimed for his eyes, your hands trace a tender path down to his chest. Your fiery palms flattened against heated skin, he gasped.

A divine being. One of wisdom, strength, restraint, but you weaved all that away with only your pretty fingers, effortlessly. Fate? Maybe you were destined for him, perhaps as a punishment. For no matter how much his palms itched to touch your smooth skin, you were a lotus flower he swore to view from afar.

"I can't."

"You won't?"

"I can't."

Satoru caught your hand in sync with a breath lodged in his throat. He couldn't stop the other — no, he wouldn't. Not when it caressed his thigh and made him mouth forgiveness prayers to the gods. Wasn't he a god? You touched him like a devotee.

He tried. Tried to will away. Tried to focus on anything but your fingers tracing circles on his inner thigh. Calming him as if he were the inexperienced —

"Aren't you a virgin?" He quivered.

"How polite." You smiled.

If he had manners to begin with he might have apologised. "I'm serious. Don't they send 'village girls of purity' or something like that?" Every second word caught with a heave. You hand weighed as an anchor than a petal. Guilt pooled in his gut, but desire clawed at it.

"You shouldn't - fuck." Restraint drained and his claws shot out for you when your palm stroked over his bulge. He grappled onto dignity last minute and caught the futon in the crossfire. Four more streaks torn into the cotton. Couldn't it be your yukata instead? No —

"This," he gulped. "This is wrong. Not like this."

"And what if it's my decision?"

"Then it's a stupid one." Your lips inched closer, his pressed to your knuckles instead. Your hand shook in his hold but he still held tight. His lifeline. His ruin. "I'm a mythical beast." Not with the way he whimpered. "A creature. . ."

"No." If dragons didn't need air, why did all leave his lungs when you slipped past his kimono? The belt pulled with the last bit of his dignity. Your hand ghosted flesh you knew not of. "You're just Satoru."

He avoided your lips so you kissed his jaw instead. When your soft words tensed all his muscles, you glanced down. Far from human. Divine. Never had you seen a man bare before, but you knew no mere man could compare to this.

Pale, like the rest of him, and tall too - his dick sprung from the confines. While fleshy, the ridges were pronounced. Two in particular, on either side, extended from his base and flowed with the double-curve of his length. Once at the middle and another before his tip. Girthy, with smaller ridges along the underside. The head's thickness matched the rest of him with several other ridges that had you biting on your lip. Slick, pearly beads circled his throbbing tip. One slowly tricked down the underside, emphasising the swell of his cockhead. Whether natural or erect-induced, you're uncertain, but you gulped.

To big. Especially for you. But, ever as ambitious, your fingers traced over the underside's ladder of ridges. Another gasp. His gaze fluctuated between your face overly curious hand.

He tried again, pitifully. "You shouldn't . . ."

You smiled, impishly. "Then stop me."

A challenge. A promise. You'd stop if he made you — but how could he when he felt that his fingers wrapped around his girth barely touched? How could he even dream of trying to keep your chastity when you so willingly proved you never had any of it to begin with?

Inexperienced nowhere in sight. Your stuttered pumping laced with a confidence for his pleasure drove him wild.

The rumble returned in heavy groans and his hold tightened. Every fibre of him failed to keep his cock from twitching in your delicate hand. You had long-since watered down his restraint. Even gentle tides wore-out rocky shores.

No twitches, he throbbed. Not only did he groan - he moaned, unabashed, ashamed, but still desperate for your gaze from beneath his feathery, fluttering lashes.

You broke the stare to admire him. Even when his cock trembled in your hand, it was dainty by comparison. The strokes aimed from the middle to his tip, until you grew fluid and lengthened your pumps. Induced by the sticky mess from his pronounced cockslit.

Satoru's head flicked back. Gods, were you really a virgin? Was he a centuries-old being? He melted into your silken hand like sea foam. Your name a prayer on his lips.

"Sweetheart," he breathed - whined, when you stuttered around his tip. "I'm . . . committing something long since forbidden."

An apology, but not to you. Something greater, sacred, and still — he fell into the sin of your thumb circling on his tip. Bringing pleasure and ruin in a devastating, blissful gift to his body. So pent-up, so untouched. Heats were spent with his own palm and sometimes a pillow, but never the touch of another.

Careful, you might make him addicted — your lips kissed along his slit. He gasped. Scratch that, he already was.

"So sensitive . . ." Susceptible to fire or not, one lit in his gut as you crooned. He pushed his palm behind your head and cupped your neck. Claws a threat, but never a promise. Reverently, they traced your skin in-tune with your tongue swirling sinful circles, smearing his slick.

Your first time be damned. What's with the audacity?

"Who knew you were such a brat." His grip tightened, you had the nerve to laugh. A challenge clung to your lashes when your pretty eyes flashed up. What could he do with the way he throbbed?

"This brat's making you feel soo good though, right Satoru?"

"You— fucckk."

His neck grip paled to your squeeze on his cock. His jaw slacked with every quickened, pressured pump. Every tantalising kiss spelling out his ruin in slick smooches. Pre-cum bubbled, hot, and you swiped it away with your hotter tongue. Burns flooded his veins, and you only fanned the flames. His groans outweighed your slurps, your scent outmatched the incense.

How he wished to shut you up with his tip kissing the back of your throat. See how much you have to say with your lips strained round his girth. No challenges in your eyes, only tears. You'd be the one ruined.

He bucked at the thought. The image danced across his vision but his self control together with his building orgasm cut the music. His base thrummed and you caught the rhythm. Your hand quickened, tongue lapping as if searching for liquid gold. Kitten licks turned to bold strokes, and then - oh devastating you - your mouth clung to his tip's underside in harsh sucks.

Not a groan, not a moan, but a quivered, depraved whimper. White hair tousled over his eyes fluttered to the ceiling. Hips chased in a sloppy cadence. His gut coils, as did his tail. Heavy and tight around your waist, but you ignored the warning.

"Damn - wait I —" Every muscle betrayed him. He should pull you off. Save your dignity. "Waaitt, sweet girl - ah - I'm gonna -" maybe he could manage.

"C'mon toru, please?"

Not with that whine. One last throb burst into heat. His swollen cockslit spilled with thick, creamy ropes streaming iridescence. You watched a swollen bulb rush up to his head, then disappearing as it slowly sank to the base. His body jerked together with his head. Laid open for you as the image of sin with his saviour between his legs. A young village girl, her hand stained in his pearly cum and her tongue so diligently lapping away at his endless mess.

"Shit - sweetheart," another whimper, deeper than his eyes turned into murky pools. Yet it was he who drowned. Flailing so helplessly with your sweet, slithery hand slowing pumps as the lifeline.

He grabbed it. Your wrist dwarfed as he yanked you into a topple over him. Any restraint melts with his orgasm as he braced large hands over the swell of your ass. Slot between your legs and grinding feral bucks, he caught your body in sensual sways.

You gasped and limped into him, fisting on his kimono. Why not his back? Oh the fantasy of you struggling to hold on while he fucked you into the futon. Thighs split, sweet cunt stretched — fuck, would you squeeze him tighter than your hand did? How would you feel struggling to take his cum? Straining around his eggs —

Dignity knocked the thought out the second his claws bit your yukata's hem. Only flimsy fabric kept him from your body he's been dreaming of for months, but now it felt like an iron cloak. Sacred to his filthy hands.

His touched jerked away as if scalded and your hazy eyes raised. Cock still throbbing between your legs. Your slick awaited, calling.

Yet he only stared. Frozen from the depths to which his mind crawled. Two seconds from throwing you into the futon. Teaching you why you should stay away from beasts, and now, he truly felt like a monster. Instead of cum on your palm, it's scarlet, instead of heated pants, it's nerves.

What had he done?

"Satoru?"

Not that voice. It broke him once. He won't fall for it again. Not those hands reaching for his face — not a fool, not this time.

In the blink of the eye, like the turn of the tides, his weight disappears beneath you. Your knees hit the futon and you gasped. Your gaze shot around the room in a frantic search but only blue smoke dissipating into the air caught your attention.

Distant, cold. Birthed from the heat of passion, came anything but in the following week. For the first and second day, Satoru had vanished. Around the third, thank heavens white and blue captured your heart before anxiety did.

You hoped he'd speak with you. Surprisingly, your attempts bore sweet fruit. He held conversation as he always did. Spoke like nothing happened.

But that was the issue. Because something did happen, and he refused to acknowledge it.

At first you took it as embarrassment, but as the days droned on, the distance between you both was as clear as the frost creeping onto citadel's wooden pavilions. Icy, lonesome. Your fate? Would the warmth of that blissful night be your last here at the mountain?

Until he called you into his office and you held hope in your hands like seeds ready to sow a new chapter. A new —

"Don't try to stab me again when I say this," Satoru turned from the wind chime, a familiar scroll in hand. Your eyes widened. His were lost. Even in his attempt to joke.

"But maybe . . . it'd be better if you were away from the mountaintop. Away from me."

#. ۫ ۶ৎ . 𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 '𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 ﹕ satoru gojo ꒱ . ˚◞✧#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #dragon!satoru #dragon!gojo #the dragon's flower

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anna-proxx · 1 month ago

Text

Bounty hunters

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

summary: you and arthur go bounty hunting, then get some rest in a hotel and shared bath.

word count: 5.1k

tags: fluff, mildly suggestive, high honor arthur, bounty hunting, established relationship

warnings: mentions of murder and violence

a/n: this took way too long and had to be rewritten and edited way too many times. so i'll post it before i go insane. take it as my comeback here on tumblr. <3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

✮ masterlist

Two piercing eyes of a wanted man stared at you from the poster you held in your hands, once again checking the provided information.

This one was a murderer, said to prey on young beautiful women to whom he, once alone, sliced their throats, then left their bodies in ditches and rivers. Some were very young, barely adults, some prostitutes he took up in the saloons, the rest damsels in distress lost in the wilderness. He would try seducing them first, luring them in as a lover only to strike as a beast; though it was unclear what his motive was. Was it vengeance? Some messed up sense of power and control?

The sheriff of Strawberry told Arthur he'd fled to the mountains once his identity was uncovered, disappearing from the towns he'd get his victims from.

Now you and Arthur were heading North. The chilly morning air grew colder on your skin the more you progressed towards the mountains with snowy caps. You had spent the night camping on the way, and had your trip's motive been forgotten, it would've made a nice retreat.

But 70 dollars was on the criminal's head, and the reward was tempting enough to try. And luckily for Arthur, you were there with him, a young woman fitting all the criteria for the perfect bait.

Not that Arthur was keen on the idea, of course.

In fact, when you first proposed it, he brushed it off as completely unimaginable, saying that if you had a death wish, you might wanna pick a different way to go than by hands of some maniac.

But you were stubborn and claimed that if he didn't allow it, you'd go alone. So, after a few mumbled curses, he reluctantly agreed.

Your plan was reasonable. The whereabouts of the killer weren't clear, and using yourself as a lure seemed smart. Especially with Arthur hiding nearby, ready to strike before you could be harmed. Just knowing he'd be close made you calmer.

You rode alongside the river, birds chirping in the trees while ducks waddled around in the shallows of the crystal clear water. You paused to take the sight in, and for a moment forgot about the paper in your hand.

The morning sunlight was gentle, enough to wake up nature after its slumber, but not too much to the point of hurting your eyes. It was perfect.

“Don' get anywhere outta my plain sight,” Arthur spoke towards you as he ruminated, worry still clouding his mind.

You softly smiled, finding his care endearing. He got into dangerous situations every day, yet couldn't stand seeing you in such circumstances. As if you weren't terrified every time he rode out.

You weren't reckless or inexperienced. You could handle a gun way before you and Arthur had even met. But it wasn't that Arthur underestimated your abilities, you knew that. He just wanted to avoid any harm done to you as much as he possibly could. Sometimes, it seemed like he valued your life more than his own.

“I'm not an amateur Arthur, not planning to get killed today either,” you reassured him kindly, knowing very well the answer would hardly calm him.

You were getting close now, and you felt as though the air had thickened with suspense. As if there was a cougar holed up in these mountains instead of a man, grazing its teeth for your flesh specifically.

You shoved the poster back in your satchel and blew warm air into your palms, your coat being barely enough to shield you from the growing coolness.

Arthur noticed and gave you another worried look. “Yer cold. Lemme give you my—”

“No, no,” you interrupted him, your focus now fixated on the hills before you. Spots of snow lay between the grass. “I think we're here. I'm actually...” you started taking your coat off, “gon' play the damsel in distress to the maximum, make myself seem vulnerable.”

You didn't even have to look at Arthur to know he was frowning.

“And won't even have to play bein' sick, if ya go like that,” he gestured towards your bare forearms with his hand, watching as you shivered. You couldn't hide a smile, moved by his concern.

“Just take my weapons, will ya?” you said as you took off your gun belt, then hopped down and grabbed the rifle from the saddle to make yourself unarmed.

“Maybe the seventy dollars ain't worth this,” he grumbled, despite taking the weapons you were handing him.

“I wonder what Dutch would say to that.” You snickered, and decided to give him your satchel as well.

“I don' care 'bout what Dutch says, I care 'bout havin' you in one piece by the end of the day.”

Your cold hands found his, covering them as you looked up into his eyes. You trembled and shivered and Arthur still thought it was a stupid idea.

“I'll tell him my dog ran off. Just don't get spotted and don't kill him unless necessary, okay?”

Arthur nodded, and when you tried pulling away to get back to your horse, he held your fingers, keeping you in place. You turned back to him, seeing not an outlaw, not a bounty hunter, just your Arthur.

Your voice softened under his troubled gaze. “We've done this before. We make a great team, remember?” You gave him a smile. “If he tries anything on me, I'll get him first. He doesn't know about the power of my right hook.”

Finally, you eluded a low chuckle from your companion as he shook his head.

“He'd be right to fear ya.”

You smiled at the change in his voice. With a squeeze of your fingers, he let you go, and you mounted your horse again. Though you converted to pants for their practicality in animal and bounty hunts long ago, you were now attired in a simple dress, as not to raise suspicion. But it did put you in bit of an inconvenience.

“Ya should still wear smthn', don' need blue lips to bait him,” Arthur protested at your shivering form.

“You can kiss those lips back to pink after we're done here, cowboy,” you said playfully, getting nothing but a huff in return. You promised yourself to properly snuggle him later.

Your horse neighed as you set him in a trot, a lane of fresh snow before you, two lines of hoove prints trailing behind you. You couldn't make out any paths, so your best bet was just getting the man's attention, wherever he was hiding.

“Finch! Hey, Finch!” you shouted a name of your imaginary dog. You didn't even have to feign the trembling in your voice as the coldness seeped into your body. Still, you coiled on the horseback, making yourself look small. Small and helpless.

“Finch, boy!” The cold air irritated your throat.

At the same time, Arthur snuck like a shadow just a few meters behind you, taking covers behind anything he could. The snow made it slightly more difficult.

He hoped the criminal would be at least a bit eccentric, taking time with his harmless victims. Though if he just as much inflicted a sliver of pain on you, you two probably wouldn't get the whole 70 dollars for bringing him alive.

The breeze felt sharp as it blew in your face, turning your skin redder with every blow. Snow softly cracked under your horse's hooves as you got deeper into the mountains.

“Finch! Where are you?” A fit of cough interrupted you as the cold dry air scratched at the walls of your throat. Your heart beat wildly in your chest and you held your breath, when finally...

Noise came from behind a rock and shortly you found yourself face to face to a man on his black horse. The recognition was immediate—the picture from the poster had come to life. Dark eyes and blonde curls, contrasting with each other just as much as his kind voice opposed his intentions. Russel Graham in the flesh.

“Ma'am. Are you alright?” he spoke in a deep smooth voice. Your stomach flipped as you imagined how many women had heard that voice as the very last thing before they died. His gaze was unwavering.

“I lost my dog. He... he ran off into these mountains somewhere.” You paused as you swallowed, your body still shaking. “If wolves get to him, I...” You trailed off and feigned a sob, rubbing your palms for warmth.

“You're freezing, ma'am, let me give you a coat first,” he interrupted you, taking off his own coat and getting close enough to hand it to you. You accepted it with an appreciative nod.

“Thank you.” You draped it over your shoulders, resisting the revulsion it brought you to have his clothes touching you.

“So, you're looking for your your dog? What does he look like?”

“Brown American Foxhound.” White vapor escaped your lips as you exhaled, and you briefly looked up at the sun shining through the tree crowns. “He's very dear to me.”

“I'll help you look for your dog, ma'am.”

He's baited alright. Now he was trying to bait you.

“But you look worn out. I'm camping nearby, let's warm up first,” he added.

You nodded and soon followed the criminal toward his hide. You reminded yourself that Arthur was somewhere near.

“Thank you, Mister...”

“Hartley,” he uttered without looking back. Of course he'd use a fake name.

“Mister Hartley. Name's Maisie.” You hadn't used the name before.

“Miss Maisie. Yer lucky I was hunting 'round here. You wouldn't believe what hides in these mountains.”

Oh, you knew quite well.

You only hummed in response, staying in the man's tail.

Once you finally arrived, an opened bed roll next to a crackling fire and a few things lying around, you took note of your surroundings. The area was shielded by big rocks from above and one side, but other than that, it was pretty much open and there wasn't really a good hiding spot.

Arthur would have to hide a bit further, potentially taking longer to arrive when needed.

You took a deep breath as you encouraged yourself, moving your frozen fingers and toes to be ready to act when things go down. The cold air was still biting.

Graham helped you down and his gloved hands remained on your hips longer than you'd like. He studied your face, so you did the same. There was a little cut above his left eyebrow, and a wild little look growing in his eyes.

When he stepped away, you curiously looked around, acting naive while still having him in your peripheral vision.

“Let me make you coffee, miss. Are you new to this area?” He crouched down to get the coffee ready and you slightly relaxed as his gaze swayed away from you.

“Yes, sir. I have relatives near Strawberry, wanted to help them with their animals. Moved here just a few days ago.” You instinctively walked to the opposite side of the fire.

Graham nodded. You took a quick glance at the knife behind his belt. You remembered very clearly what sheriff told Arthur when he picked up the poster. A sliced neck. Every single time.

“The nature's a real beauty 'round here, but I reckon it's better not to wander too far from the town. It's dangerous.”

You forced a smile, pulling the man's coat tighter around your body. You still trembled.

“I wouldn't come here if Finch hadn't ran this way. He's the only one I have from home—”

“Please, sit.” The man gestured toward the blankets next to the campfire. He was growing impatient. Maybe the law being onto him put him on edge.

“Oh, sir...” You hesitated, looking down at the fire. “I'm really scared for him, I must find him before a wolf or a bear does.”

“You won't do much if you freeze,” Graham countered, handing you a cup of hot coffee. “Sit for a while, then we'll go looking.”

You didn't like how pushy he was. But you still had a moment of surprise on your side.

Though you complied to his request, and sat down at the fire with coffee in your hands, your insides felt like a taut string, adrenaline bubbling underneath. He had you in a vulnerable position. In a place like this, you doubted he would try to seduce you—and he already had you alone—which meant he might cut this short.

“What a beautiful day, you were lucky not to run into a snowstorm,” he said as he got up and looked up at the sky, seemingly in thought, walking up behind you.

Your back was toward the opening, where hopefully Arthur waited. He would never let anything happen to you.

“Yes. Thank you for having me here, sir, you're very kind.” You hid any disdain from your voice. You sipped on your coffee, while he most likely already imagined the pale snow stained with your crimson blood.

“Don't mention it. I'm thrilled to be here with you, ma'am.”

Everything in you stiffened and filled with nausea. The string within you was about to snap—something in the air changed. The man's steps stopped behind you.

With held breath, you cocked your head to the side and saw light reflected against metal, held in a black-gloved hand.

It was less than split of a second that you turned and rolled to your back, kicking the knife and throwing the contains of the cup to where you guessed his face would be.

The coat fell off of you, and the hot liquid burnt your arm as you shielded your face, but it got him too. An angry yell echoed against the walls, accompanied by a clink of the knife against the ground.

With all the strength you had in your cold body, you kicked him in the stomach, making him stumble back. You were at disadvantage, lying on the ground, but at this point it didn't matter anymore.

“Arthur!”

But before the name even left your lips, Russel Graham had already found himself in an iron grip.

Arthur held him from behind, a frown on his face as he shoved him to the ground and pinned him down, tying his wrists together. He moved confidently and swiftly.

“Yeah, you ain't touching her, you bastard,” Arthur growled, a tone you didn't hear from him often.

“You son of a bitch!” the man yelled, writhing on the ground. Arthur hit his face before tying his ankles.

You were still sat up on the ground, stunned from the shock of what just happened. The fear drained away from your body with a chilling aftershock.

Your body was freezing, except for the burning red mark on your arm. But that was the least of your worries.

When Arthur was done, he stood up and left him squirming on the ground like a worm, turning his focus to you instead.

“You al'right?” He offered you his very warm hand and pulled you up to your feet. You didn't let go right away.

“Yeah. He didn't get me.”

“Here.” Arthur took off his coat and helped you take it on. You were surprised by how quickly he could turn tender when it came to you.

“I'm still gonna kill you, you whore!” Graham reminded himself with a sharp angry tone. He looked quite pathetic rather than threatening now, lying tied up on his stomach like that.

“You ain't killin' nobody, you piece of shit,” Arthur countered harshly, leaning down to pick him body up and swinging him over his shoulder.

“The law will deal with you, Mister Graham,” you remarked, a small satisfied smile tugging at your lips. Even though you were cold and a little ruffled up, this was a success alright.

While Arthur whistled for his horse and stowed the atrocious man on the back, you walked up to the black horse who had been watching the whole situation unfold.

“What about you? You don't wanna stay here, do you?” you spoke in a softer tone, patting the horse on the neck. “Come on, be nice and we'll get you to the stables. You'll get rid of that brute.”

You took the rains and walked towards Arthur who eyed you worriedly.

“You sure you're 'kay?”

“Yes, Arthur, I'm sure. I'll be even better when we get somewhere warmer.”

“Don' worry, we're goin' straight to Strawberry.” He nodded toward you. “You takin' that horse?”

“You maggots, I have bought that horse!” the criminal yelled. Both of you ignored him, which seemed to offend him further.

“Yeah, can't let him freeze here.”

Arthur nodded. Then he mounted his horse and returned his attention to the bounty. “I don' reckon you'll need a horse where you're goin'.”

Thankfully, the black horse was friendly. He let you ride him, your own mare following right behind once you reached the edge of the mountains where she waited.

“You'll regret this!” the man shouted.

“Yeah, that's what they all say,” Arthur said scornfully. “Killin' women? Ain't that pathetic.”

“You've got no idea how good it feels, to have those sweet creatures turn lifeless before you.” He was probably just spurring his capturer on.

“Spare me of the details,” Arthur grumbled.

“You'll have a whole audience watching you swing now. Ain't that fun?” you chimed in, feeling cocky with how the situation turned around.

“You better stay quiet, whore,” his tone was much rougher than before, “Such a shame I didn't get to slash your pretty ne—”

Arthur hit his face. “One word. One. Word.”

Graham actually shut up at the hostile warning.

“We need him alive, Arthur.”

“Yeah, but not necessarily conscious and with his bones in tact.”

You smiled, trotting alongside Arthur as the sun's warmth finally started spreading into your body.

“Alright, but his face has to be recognisable.”

Arthur gave you a little silent look, and you knew you calmed him down a little. You always managed to.

You galloped through the meadows, the bounty giving up on his occasional tantrums the closer you got to town. Arthur inconspicuously checked on you every now and then, as if you didn't notice his little searching glances.

Then finally you could see the town and soon enough it followed with the creaking of wagons and chirping of people. Those standing nearby took curious glances at the man strapped at the back of Arthur's horse.

‘Welcome to Strawberry’, the sign above said. A quaint tourist town.

Both of you stopped before the cubic building, ‘JAIL’ in big letters on the wall. Russel Graham tried his last frail attempts at bargaining for his freedom, but there was no way to escape his fate now.

Arthur carried the man inside the sherrif's office, maybe a bit more roughly than necessary, and you remained waiting outside, just hopping off to stretch your sore body.

You weren't freezing anymore, but the chill remained settled in your bones, and you still nestled in Arthur's coat. You did feel tired, though.

The place had lots of green, and you liked that; it fit right into the landscape, like a picteresque heart of it. Very charming. Very cozy. Some kind of preacher rambled on, somewhere near.

Arthur was just shoving the stack of bills in his satchel when he emerged, his step confident.

“Got it?” You touched his forearm without realising.

“Got it.” He looked at you from below his hat. “We got the rest of the day free, I reckon.”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

You both knew what that meant—a hot bath, proper meal and a warm shared bed. The best part of these trips.

The stables were at the outskirts of town. You rode over the bridge overlooking a waterfall, one that could be looked at for hours. The black horse did earn you a few extra bucks.

It was even warmer inside the hotel. You waited just a few minutes before the bath was ready, and you took the time to take in the interior. Red wallpapers made the room look even dimmer, and it complemented the rustic decoration. It was big on a hunting theme: A large bear by the entrance, chandelier made of antlers, rocks, and interestingly branched wooden railings. The burning fireplace added onto the cosiness. You assumed the place worked as the tourist center.

Arthur led you up the stairs, warmth growing on your lower back where his hand rested. He held the door open for you, and the smell of soap and lavender hit you.

The bathroom was quite homely, with the same red wallpapers and pale light dimly illuminating the room. You immediately relaxed when the door shut behind you.

Fighting the silly blush on your cheeks was basically pointless. Arthur shuffled on his feet.

“You go first, I guess,” you mumbled and immediately felt ridiculous for how awkward you were. You had done this before but it was the same every time. These situations weren't your strongest suit, and his neither.

So you walked to the window to absent-mindedly watch the street, when Arthur undressed.

After a few moments, the water softly splashed against the walls of the tub. Your head turned to see Arthur settling underneath all the foam, his naked shoulders above it. There was another thing accompanying the pink flush on your cheeks; a little feeling of excitement seemingly jumping around within you.

Your chilled body craved the hot water, and your stomach coiled at the sight of your lover. You knew that nothing would separate you from him until after the water turns cold.

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned his head back, arms stretched over the edges of the tub.

You quietly slipped out of all your clothes and walked over, your heart making two beats for every step you'd make. You submerged and sat on the opposite side, every single negative thought forgotten as your muscles loosened. All the work was so worth this.

“Thank you for not letting me die today,” you broke the silence, a small timid smile on your face. Arthur opened his eyes and looked at you, failing to keep a straight face.

“I'd rather have you not risking like that next time.”

“Sure, let's have you be a bait next time.” You started shifting towards him. “Or better yet, hunt for rabbits instead.”

Arthur chuckled, not taking his eyes off you. “Or maybe I just won't let ya go anywhere away from me.”

With that you settled onto his body, your own mellowing at how nice it felt to have him against you. As if even your bones were melting, and you'd soon fuse together.

Your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. You didn't wanna get into any dirty business, as you were both tired and grimy, but that didn't wipe the red hue off your face. You pretended that you weren't flustered at all; he couldn't see the blush on your face if you rest your head on his shoulder.

His rough hand found your back, and he touched you so gently, as if he thought you to be fragile. Your eyes closed; the more comfortable you were, the sleepier you got.

The room was quiet, with muffled sounds from the outside and Arthur's breathing. His heartbeat rhythmically thumped against your own.

“You did a good job today,” he suddenly uttered into your ear and it woke you from your daze.

“Did I?” You couldn't help but smile. God knows why you liked hearing him praise you so much.

“Uh-mm. The best actress I've seen.” His palm slid over your spine in circles. You lifted your head to meet his eyes.

“Don't overrate me,” you nudged playfully, beaming.

But he carried on with a lively twinkle in his eyes. “That kick was smthn' too. Guy's lucky you didn't aim for his teeth.”

A lighthearted laugh left your lips and you leaned closer.

“You did well too, Mr Morgan,” you murmured, a bit of sensuality in your voice. You couldn't overlook that little crooked smile, or the way he briefly looked away, not knowing how to take the compliment.

His chest heaved against yours and his fingers lazily trailed up your spine to your nape.

“And what was it about kissing your lips back to color?” he reminded, to your surprise, and now it was your turn to get flustered.

You didn't like his gaze studying you so closely, so you did the only thing that crossed your mind; your lips collided with his a little clumsily, and your stomach did a few inept twists.

Arthur's lips moved against yours, so gently it made you lose your goddamn mind. He pulled you even closer, and your heart skipped a beat when he let out a pleased hum. His lips were soft and warm, and you slightly opened your mouth.

It was a little risky; his heated body tempted you, and every little touch turned your thoughts into a cloud of vapor. All those bottled up feelings were now free to surge through, and if you were hot before, you were now on fire.

Your heart tried to keep up with all the senses stirring in your body, your pulse quickening. Strange chills danced in place where his palm now rested on your back, while your stomach grew hotter; but then he moved his hand lower.

Way lower.

“Arthur,” you whispered when you broke the kiss, barely any space between you two.

Your own mind inquired why you couldn't just straddle his lap and...

You cleared your throat. “Everyone would hear us,” you said with a dry mouth, partly to convince Arthur, partly to convince yourself.

“Sure,” he agreed with lack of air in his voice, and the way he watched you made your head dizzy again. His gaze was so soft, and admiration was written all over it. He made it so hard to focus. His hand slid back up to between your shoulder blades.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Clueless.

“Like that.” You shook your head.

Grabbing some soaped water, you rubbed it in Arthur's hair, leaving foam where you brushed fingers through the strands. His eyes opened with surprise, but the amused chuckle he let out had no trace of protest in it.

It was quiet, peaceful.

“Why do you tag along with me like that?”

That question caught you off guard, as it came all of a sudden. But knowing Arthur, he probably had it in his mind for a while now.

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?” you said as a matter of fact. Wasn't it as clear to him as it was to you?

Where else would I be?, you thought, but didn't say out loud.

Arthur looked away, and you still washed his hair.

“It gets ya into dangerous situations.”

“But I get to be with you, don't I?” You searched for understanding in his eyes. “Alone.”

You caressed the nape of his neck. “Besides, it's better than just sitting around.” You squinted your eyes. “I ain't a saint either, y'know? I was far from it long before we met.”

“Hmh,” he grumbled, but a smile emerged on his face, and you felt relief. Perhaps knowing you're not doing it just for him made him feel better.

“Not that I'm complaining 'bout spending alone time with ya.”

“You better not,” you mumbled with a smile and kissed Arthur's cheek without thinking, and he paused. He never expected it. Such a sweetheart.

You took turns cleaning each other, exchanging shy smiles and stolen kisses, while you tried remaining reserved. No words could describe how safe you felt with him, in all ways a person could feel safe.

You liked to trace his little scars in these moments, wondering about the stories behind them. His skin was red from the hot water, and the scars remained light. You liked kissing the scar on his chin, and he could never not smile when you did.

Then, Arthur kissed a little red bruise on your neck, and that almost crossed the line for you.

Save it, you thought.

You spent a long time in that tub; by the time you were leaving, you felt as clean as you haven't in a long time. Both of you got in spare clothes you had brought, and Arthur now stood before you in a shirt that was your favorite.

You mumbled something about how handsome he was, and how he ought to wear his black chaps over his jeans, a little grin on your face. He laughed and shook his head; like he hadn't already heard that from you before.

You headed to the rented room that was just next door, the same red wallpapers and a rustic feel to it. Now it was time for the food you got acquired the way, and you realised just how hungry you were.

“You should chew more,” Arthur commented on your eating manner, amused.

You lifted your eyes to meet his. “Worry 'bout yourself.”

But he was right—you felt a bit sick later, when you sprawled on the motel bed. On your back, fighting the sleepiness. It still couldn't defeat the happy, satisfied feeling in you that quivered all over your insides.

Arthur sat on a padded chair and scribbled something in his journal. You turned your head to look at him.

“Don't tell me you're drawing the guy.”

“No, of course not,” Arthur scoffed, as if offended. “I'm drawing you, in the bath tub,” he added, holding back a crooked grin.

“What?” You sat up abruptly, got off the bed and walked over, peeking at the opened pages.

The drawing was a scenery that you'd seen today.

“Idiot,” you grumbled, hearing him laugh despite it.

You turned around to return to bed, but Arthur reached over and his hand gently touched fingers. You turned back around with a softer look.

“How do you remember things so well, anyway?” You really couldn't play annoyed at him for too long.

He wrapped his arm around you when you sat on his lap, still holding the journal in his other hand.

“I don' know, it's just easy for me,” he answered absently.

He had pretty eyes; pale moss-green spilling into the rippled azure blue. His skin still smelled of soap and all you wanted was to snuggle up and nuzzle his neck.

Finally, you rested your head over his collarbone and let him finish his drawing, with his arms loosely encircling you.

“Are ya tired?” His voice stirred you from your trance.

“A little,” you lied.

It took a few more minutes before he was finished and closed the journal, placing it beside him. You had your eyes closed but felt his movements. The little hesitance of when he wondered what to do with you, before gently picking you up and laying you down on the bed.

From the previous fervor was nothing left; your mind was a fuzzy mess and all you recognised was that you're safe and comfortable. When the mattress dented as Arthur lay down beside you, when his arms ptotectively enveloped you, when you felt his lips on your forehead in a soft kiss.

You snuggly settled against Arthur's chest, and were lulled to sleep by his calm heartbeat. Oblivious to just how happy Arthur was—how happy you made him—and how much you soothed all his pain that he carried all these years.

Arthur pulled you closer, and fell asleep beside you.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan oneshot #rdr2 oneshot #arthur morgan fluff #☆ annie writes

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venusbyline · 2 months ago

Note

Continuing on that competence kink I was mentioning on my blog, it's my personal headcanon that Aemond would get so hot watching his partner be physically violent. Hurting someone, or torturing someone, committing war crimes... (I mean, the way he looks at Daemon after he's murdered Vaemond- HELLO THAT MAN GETS OFF ON VIOLENCE AND BLOOD)

tbh I never knew about competence kink until that post of yours, but when I saw it... everything makes sense 🤭🤭 I wanna join him in his freakiness

btw, I wrote this two days ago but I forgot to post it 😭😭

⚠️: SMUT & DARK CONTENT. female!reader, dom!Aemond Targaryen, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), competence kink, blood kink, blood licking, missionary position, non-graphic violence, implied Alys Rivers.

— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin), Issa (yes).

There had always been something wrong with both of you.

Aemond noticed this when you were still children. He knew how angry you got when his bastard nephews teased him along with Aegon, he saw how you glared at Lucerys when the little boy gouged out one of your twin brother's eyes, just as he heard you mutter something about Rhaenyra deserving that scar on her arm after all that fight at Driftmark.

Your violent thoughts were just thoughts back then, but Aemond was not stupid. Despite trying to be a kind loving child, over time Aemond came to understand a little better what you felt.

He always liked your way of being, though. Sometimes he had lectured you if you expressed it around someone you should not, especially someone as prude as your mother. However, deep down Aemond liked to hear everything you had to say.

Alicent was furious when Aemond was younger and he went to talk to her about letting you start training with him and Ser Criston, after Aegon stopped being interested about swords. For the Queen, it was absurd for a girl to want to practice something like that, you were born to marry some lord and carry children, making more necessary alliances for the Greens when the right time came. After so much insistence from Aemond and even Ser Criston, who promised to your mother that no one but them would know that you were doing such a masculine activity, Alicent finally gave up on putting some sense into your mind.

Now, a few years later, you had proven a great worth to Aemond when you marched with him and Criston Cole to Harrenhal. Your dragon might be smaller than Vhagar, but you were willing to do anything he ordered during that war. After all, the two of you were twins and freak like each other.

Aemond felt horny watching you slit the throats of the men of the castle, your frustration at Simon Strong’s loyalty to the Blacks matching your twin's anger at the situation. The two of you were covered in blood as he sipped some wine with Ser Criston, because of Aemond's refusal to order the random woman with long black hair — the one whose life he spared, so he could keep as a servant — to draw you a bath yet...

Aemond wanted to see you like this for a little longer… Your silver hair was drenched in red drops, both a scarlet shade and a darker shade. You had killed so many people that the stains were a mess caused by other people's arterial and venous blood.

Ever since the entire family witnessed Daemon kill Vaemond Velaryon in front of everyone, the Prince Regent had been jerking off picturing what it would be like to see you committing all sorts of atrocities possible.

"Cole, leave me and my sister alone now." He ordered the knight, who nodded and left, taking the brunette servant with him.

"Feeling good, idaña?" Aemond teased, staring at you moaned with each deep thrust, the sounds of slapping skins echoing through the dark room.

You nodded, biting your lower lip at the feeling of your brother's cock sliding in and out of your warm cunt. He had already deflowered you many years ago, but nothing like that night. Aemond had never been so aroused and you had never been so tight before. "Mmm, issa..."

"Issa?" A low, husky chuckle rumbled from his chest, mocking your whining tone before he leaned down to nibble your neck, licking at the blood that dried there, the metallic, bitter taste making him growl and speed up the thrusts pace further. "Fuck... Your little cunt feels so fucking tight right now, sister. Such a freak thing, are not you? Just like me."

There was no need for a verbal response, though. Aemond had always known the truth. You were the only girl who matched the freak inside him.

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fables-if · 4 months ago

Text

The Night of Ataegina and Betatun

A high fantasy interactive fiction story based on Spanish mythology, folklore, and paganism. Set in modern-day Spain. Most locations and all the characters are fictional, except the type of fae that will be seen during the story.

Summary:

After leaving Imeria during your eighteen birthday to chase your dreams and college education, you return to the little village in Southern Europe that saw you grow up after receiving the horrible news that Caterina, the old woman that took you in after the death of your family and your adoptive grandma (or yaya, as you call her), is terminally ill and has a few months left.

During your return, Imeria is set in motion to host an ancient festival and masquerade. It’s supposed to honor two ancient Iberian deities, one called Ataegina, ruler of the underworld, and the other one Betatun, deity of fertility. Most Imerians don’t believe in the ancient legends but those who do, like Catelina say that it’s the most dangerous night of the year because the frontier between the mortal and the magic realm is so thin anything can happen.

Returning home under the threat of Caterina dying is already hard enough, but will you be able to adapt back into Imeria and rekindle old friendships or form new ones? Will you uncover the deep and rich history of your home and the old magic it carries?

We shall discover it all very soon.

Features:

Customizable mc: Gender, pronouns, and physical appearance

Build friendship or romance with four characters.

Learn more about Spain's folklore and pagan traditions. Uncover your family history and your abilities.

Develop your MC's personality as you go

Two characters are gender locked but you can choose the gender identity of the other two

Your choices can't be undone and will have consequences.

Characters:

Caterina: An older woman, well into her 80s who took in the MC after most of her family died. She doesn’t seem to have a family of her own, or at least that’s what Mc believes. Caterina has a sweet disposition, always up for helping anybody. She raised MC with the stories of the folklore of their village, so she will always know how to honor the traditions of Imeria. MC doesn’t remember very well what she did for a living but she used to do fortune and tarot reading for some villagers and they usually came to her for advice and help.

Ana: She runs The Golden Apothecary, a small store where she sells traditional remedies. Her family has run the Apothecary forever, and it’s considered a family craft. Ana has golden shoulder-length wavy hair, almond ocean-blue eyes, and a button nose. She’s no taller than 167cm, with a voluptuous body and soft features. Ana is in her late 20s to early 30s.

Personality-wise, Ana is soft-spoken, sweet, and very open-minded. She strikes to accept everyone with open arms, as long as they’re good people. Unfortunately, some individuals mistake Ana’s kindness with weakness, which is untrue. Ana is extremely smart, stubborn, and strong-minded, she’s always kind but only to those who deserve it. She can be a lot to reckon with if she deems you a bad person. Ana dreams of seeing the world but there is something tying her to Imeria.

Supernatural or not (spoiler):

Ana is a Xana, a river spirit that helps those she finds worthy by offering them pure water or gold. Some people believe that Xanas interchange human babies with fairy babies. As a river spirit, Ana can’t be apart from her river or she’ll suffer horrible consequences. She met Caterina when Caterina was a young maiden and bathed in her river. Ana saw the purity of her soul and gifted her magic. Xanas are mythological creatures that originate from Asturias, a northern region of Spain with strong Celtic influences.

Anne, An or Antón: Anne/An/Antón works on their family farm along with some of their siblings. The Zamora’s farm supplies Imeria with its fresh produce. Everyone knows the family since they’re a happy and amicable bunch. Anne/An/Antón is pretty tall, around 185cm, they have wide shoulders, a big frame, tan skin and are chubby. The shape of their face is round, with little freckles, big green eyes, long eyelashes, and a hooked nose. They have short straight brown hair and are a bit hairy.. Their voice is deep and loud, almost booming, exactly like their laugh. Anne/An/Antón is super extroverted, knows everybody in the village, and has a sunny and sweet disposition. They are super strong, from all the physical labor but their secret hobby crocheting, they’re always making little dolls for the children of the village or making clothes. In general, they’re super well-liked and have a golden heart. Anne/An/Antón is the MC's childhood best friend and neighbor. Unfortunately, after leaving Imeria they didn’t keep in touch. Anne/An/Antón is 25 years old.

Supernatural or not:

Anne/An/Antón is an Ome, a mountain spirit, and a giant made of rock that turns into mountains after living for many centuries. Their whole family is made of Omes graznidos. Omes Graznidos are a type of mythological creature that originates from Aragón, a northeast region of Spain surrounded by mountains.

Diego, Diana, or Dix: Diego/Diana/Dix is new in Imeria, they have been living in the little village for less than a year. Nobody knows where they came from, they remain a bit of a mystery for everyone. They set up a popular lounge called “The Velvet Moon” in the middle of the village, very exclusive and chic which clashes with the rest of the decoration of Imeria. Still, the young Imerians love the place. They’re 31 years old but look slightly older.

Diego/Diana/Dix is of average height, standing around 174cm, they’re pretty slender, with a petite frame and olive skin. They have an angular face, with sharp features, long shaggy black hair, and clear eyes that almost seem silver-colored. Diego/Diana/Dix keep mostly to themselves and can be seen riding their motorcycle around the village. They have a limp and can be seen using a cane. As mysterious as they are, they’re pretty talkative once you get to know them, and are very protective of those they love. Diego/Diana/Dix seems to be interested in the MC, since they’re always watching them, and seem to have a secret that they don’t want to share with anybody. They are very self-reliant, have learned to survive by themselves and have a hard time trusting others, but once you have earned their trust, they’re loyal to a fault.

Rumors say they have a criminal past and are mixed with a bad crowd, but not everything seems as it is.

Supernatural or not (spoilers):

Diego/Diana/Dix takes the form of a giant spectral dog, with long black hair and a permanent limp, which is called dip by Spanish folklore. They’re supposed to be emissaries from the devil and they suck the blood of the livestock at night. However, not all legends tell the entire truth.

Bingen: Bingen lives in the forests near Imeria, where he has a small cottage and a little bit of land where he has a vegetable patch. Bingen is a well-known journalist for online newspapers. He’s an ecologist, and his coverage is mostly about the natural world and ecologism.

Bingen barely sets foot in Imeria, he is auto-sufficient but he comes down to the village to visit Ana and her apothecary, and to buy a few things he needs.

Bingen has a square jaw with high cheekbones, sharp green eyes, and long blonde messy hair, usually kept in a braid. He has a sweet face with a straight nose, and round brown eyes that resemble a little lamb. He’s the tallest of the bunch, 1’90cm, very muscled from all the exercise, and has a big frame. He loves hiking and is very in touch with nature. Bingen has a hard time socializing, preferring being around animals and plants since he understands them better. He, as intimidating as he looks, is a sweetheart and really craves human connection. Bingen is not talkative but expresses his feelings and emotions through his actions. He might have a hard time telling you he cares about you but he’ll help you install furniture or will make you soup when you’re sick. He always shows up when you need him to.

Bingen recently led a rescue of a few teens who got lost in the forest and saved them from a wolf attack, since then a lot of the villagers have respected him a lot and brought little sweet treats to his cottage. He's in between 27-33 years old.

He has struck a friendship with Ana, who frequents the forest often.

Supernatural or not (Spoilers):

Bingen is a Basajaún a creature that inhabits the forests of The Basque Country, Navarra, and some parts of Aragón. Basajaúns are described as giant hairy men who protect the livestock, and warn shepherds of wolfs during the night. Basajaúns are seen as protectors of the forest but also creatures of great strength and kinda dangerous.

Rami: A green weasel-like creature, with a long and flexible body, similar to a snake, and little tusks. They’re friendly and sweet and help guide the MC during their adventure. Rami’s fur has healing qualities.

Extra:

This project is made by an absolute amateur in coding so it's going to take a long time. I have been writing since forever so I trust in my ability to create a good and entertaining story and I hope you guys stay for the ride.

The Night of Ataegina and Betatún is also going to be a surprise gift for a dear friend of mine who absolutely loves Interactive fiction and this project (if I get to finish it;_;) might be the way I ask her out since we both harbor strong feelings for each other. So let's hope she doesn't find out about the project before it's time.

#if wip #if game #twine if #interactive game #interactive novel #twine wip #interactive story #interactive fiction #fantasy #fantasy if #spanish fantasy #spanish folklore #spanish paganism #honestly i'm just gay enough to learn how to code for her #help an author out #help a bitch out

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buckyschair · 4 months ago

Text

AFTERGLOW

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A sequel part to Flirting, which follows our dear reader (an archivist from Day Court) and the events post-hook-up with Azriel. Don’t worry, his busybody family could never be too sidetracked with running their court to prevent them getting involved in his love life– and, thanks to the properties of transference, yours! Have you stumbled upon something real here with him? Or will it be over before it’s begun? Only Azriel’s shadowy attachment style and maladaptive coping mechanisms will tell! Spoiler: the sex is good.

read part one on tumblr here

A/N: From the bottom of my heart, what the fuck was I doing when I started writing this fic in the second person present tense. Copy editing this was a nightmare. I am completely demoralized. The only thing that can cure me? Your comments and kudos, baby!

Content Warnings: porn with plot, kinda switches between your POVS, female reader, Rhys and Cass and Mor being dickheads (affectionate), smut (featuring aftercare <3), mutual masturbation, thigh riding, unprotected PIV sex, explicit language, alcohol, yearning, idiots to lovers, no use of Y/N

Disclaimers: 1. I’m woman enough to admit that I don’t know how the magic system works in this universe. Who has what powers? None of my business. Yet, somehow, this same author spent an hour researching exactly how people with penises like to masturbate. And that’s showbiz, baby! 2. It’s also not my business where these people live. I haven’t read ACOSF yet so I have no idea where they’re all supposed live so just pretend Az has his own place and they all share a house too idk the river house is new and confusing to me kthxbyeeee

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~14k

Read on AO3

It’s surprisingly domestic, how the morning unfolds in a post-coital haze, breathy moans lapsing into quiet conversation about pillow preferences and the day's looming demands. You’re seriously so glad you went dancing last night, especially since your fun solo night out was cut short in favor of mind blowing sex with Azriel. The male lies beside you, your body tucked into his arm on his massive bed, the pair of you lingering after another round of bliss. You’re reluctant to emerge from your shared cocoon, but you know you can’t stay forever.

“I don’t know about you, but this is my ideal morning,” Azriel comments lazily.

You murmur something noncommittal.

He raises himself up on one arm to look at you, affronted. You see the disbelief in his poised face, his quiet accusation: How could it get better than this? It’s sharp enough to uncover your grin as you answer:

“A bath?” you propose.

Azriel presses a kiss to your temple before grumbling his way out from under the covers.

“Anything for my esteemed guest,” he says sarcastically.

“I’m so honored,” you say, eyes rolling behind his back as he disappears into the washroom.

“I saw that!” he calls from inside.

You give him a rude gesture from your place under his sheets, and you hear his chuckle echoing through the open doorway as he draws you a bath. Even his laughter sounds like a whispered secret. You treasure the sound, storing it away in your memory.

You’re half hoping he’ll join you in the bath, but he leaves you to wash alone once you finally emerge from his bed. Water sluices across your form as you cleanse yourself of the hard earned sweat and stain. While the stickiness washes away, the warmth of your experience remains; an invisible mark at odds with the pale bruises blooming on your chest and thighs. His soap smells of citrus and cedar, a salty scrub that rejuvenates your flesh and invigorates your senses. It was the scent you’d caught in his pillows as you’d been pressed into them this morning. You wipe the images from your mind, clearing your head with some effort.

When you emerge from your much needed bath, wrapped in a towel, you find your things laid out neatly for you atop his fresh sheets. You pick up an oversized shirt included in the pile. Your brow arches in silent question towards the male currently fussing with dirty sheets. Thankfully, he’s donned some undershorts, so you could expect to keep it together for at least a full conversation.

“I couldn’t find your shirt,” Azriel confesses, apologetic. He tells you that he looked all over his room while you were bathing, to no avail.

“Aren’t you a spy? I can’t believe you couldn't track it down,” you laugh as you slip into his tunic. It smells clean, and you’re a little put out that it doesn’t have his aroma. He throws a pillow at you, and you barely catch it before it smacks you in the face. His pout only makes you laugh harder.

He apologizes again about your top, but as you slip your skirt back on, you remind him that you weren’t protesting last night when he threw it gods know where. His ears burn as he imagines it falling out the window, landing somewhere in the city below, perhaps much to some stranger’s confusion.

“Not that it would be out of character for this place, with Rhys and Feyre being the way they are,” he concludes, cracking you up again.

You come to stand before him, in your odd new outfit, short tight skirt and long baggy shirt. Now that you’re dressed, you aren’t sure of what comes next. So far, he’s directed your morning routine, and you’re suddenly dreading the inevitable moment when you have to leave. His eyes are taking you in, and you have no idea how his heart stutters at the sight of you, freshly bathed in his soap and dressed in his clothing. He has half a mind to take you back to bed, if Rhys hadn’t just been in his head reminding him of their upcoming morning appointment.

Before you can ask him what the plan is, your stomach growls loudly, demanding.

You curse your traitorous stomach as you walk through the grand halls alone in search of a meal, disoriented since he’d kissed your temple again right after dispatching you to the kitchen. He’d offered to get the two of you food, but you told him he should bathe first. Truth be told, you just needed a moment to get your bearings. This morning was far more normal than you were expecting, and it unnerved you how easily you’d fallen into a mock domestic routine with the warrior.

Soon enough, you find a well stocked kitchen, exactly where Azriel had explained it would be. You shouldn’t be surprised that his directions were so clear, given the male’s strategic mind.

You do find yourself surprised, however, that he’s allowing you to wander unchaperoned and barefoot through his court’s inner dwelling. The thought had warmth blooming in your chest as you set water to boil on the stove before looking around for some proper kind of tea.

Before you know it, you’ve lost yourself to snooping through the full cabinets, inspecting jars and baskets of dry goods as you assemble your small feast. As an archivist, you can’t help admiring neat collections of any kind. You’re as endlessly fascinated with the contents of cabinets as you are with stacks of manuscripts.

The distraction is why you don’t notice the approaching footsteps until a sarcastic voice calls you out of your reverie.

“Az? Is that you?”

You freeze your snacking at the unfamiliar male voice in the hallway.

“What the hell, brother. So tell me why you tapped out earlier than anyone last night– without saying goodbye, might I add– and yet you’re the only one late to training this–” the voice cuts off as he finally spots you through the door frame.

“Oh,” the Illyrian stumbles before quickly recovering, “Hello.” A boyish smile breaks upon his face as he takes in your state, dressed in his brother’s shirt over a skintight skirt.

“You’re not Azriel,” he observes keenly.

He offers you a wide grin, which you return sheepishly at first but then with real humor.

“No, I’m not,” you laugh, realizing this must be Cassian. You introduce yourself briefly before adding, “He’ll probably be late this morning.”

“I bet he will be,” Cassian quips, but before he can question you further, you excuse yourself with your tea while it's still hot.

“It’s nice to meet you!” he calls after you, your name ringing down the corridor.

Cassian shakes his head once you leave, speechless for a moment before he contacts Rhys. You won’t believe this! he projects excitedly, thrilled to have some gossip on his brooding brother for once.

You can’t hide your giddy blush when you return to Azriel’s room to eat. He takes the tea with quiet thanks, laughing at the mischief you’d gotten up to in his absence, and even more so at your impression of Cassian. His chest warms at your brief brush with his family. You enjoy a peaceful meal sitting in his chair by the window while he tidies his already very clean room, noting how fastidious he is in his motions as he dresses and styles his hair for the day.

Once he’s run out of ways to drag out his morning routine, he turns to you with a serious but soft expression.

“Can I see you again?” Azriel asks. If all logic didn’t defy it, you’d say he sounds nervous. “Perhaps on a real date?”

“A date?” you ask coyly. You don’t bother to hide your smug delight at his words, feeling like you’ve just won a prize. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. A lot.”

His resulting smile is so bright– for a second it transports you back to the grand archival library in Day court, where you’d soak up the blinding noon light that would stream in through the tall arched windows. You could always rely on its warmth for a reprieve from your dusty, tedious tasks. You imagine Az must feel similarly in this moment for his shadowy expression to break with such radiance.

It calms your sorrow at leaving the brilliant palace, confident that you might very well see it again soon. You enjoy this flight more, as he carefully maneuvers through the city’s sky, the journey less disorienting in the daylight. He leaves you on the steps of your accommodations near the library with a lingering kiss and a promise to see you again the next night.

Once he leaves, your mind goes into overdrive, cataloguing all that had occurred and trying to figure out what exactly drew you together. If there was any sort of common thread, it was invisible, but you felt its undeniable pull all the same.

You’d have to do some further research, you decide, on Illyrians, and on shadowsingers. And perhaps on sex positions with winged fae. And maybe you should buy a new going out top… though you certainly wouldn’t be returning this new one anytime soon, you think, smoothing Azriel’s shirt down as you step inside your little place.

You happily plan your list of tasks and activities, unaware of the shadows that slip inside after you, ready to report back to their master, who is equally anticipating your next meeting, even as he arrives unforgivably late to training, only to face the torment of his nosy family.

Azriel bears their prying questions and bold threats with characteristic stoicism, cracking only to say that they’d better play nice, offering scalding threats of his own lest they scare you off. Deep down, he thinks with pride that you could probably actually handle them in their full chaos.

After all, he’d felt something shake loose in his chest this morning as he’d laid watching your sleeping form. He recalls how he’d felt last night, when you were backlit and glowing above him. The magnetism that had sparked, a gravity he stepped into fearlessly when in battle, that now gave him pause. Later, when he had a moment, he would examine it more intently, but even at this glance, he felt it strongly.

He swallows his smile as he falls into the motions of sparring with Rhys, feeling that familiar thrill. He’s found a real contender in you, he should have known it from the moment he saw you squaring up back at the club. Azriel can’t wait to see things through with you.

Hours later, recalling that excitement feels like mockery, as he ponders what one possibly does for a first– second?– date. He curses himself for having such a premature reaction, rather than applying a more rational process to the situation. He’d met you once. He told himself he hardly knew you.

But even as he had that thought, he brought to mind all he’d absorbed about you. Your life in Day, your dedication to your people, your reverence for things of antiquity. His mind wandered to your shared experience, how he’d seen you come alive and undone under his touch. Your small reactions, your fixation on his wings, your quickness to humor. He couldn’t convince himself that he didn’t know you at all. Still, surely many fae knew you better than he could, after just one night.

The thought fills him with an ugly emotion; he didn’t like that someone else might know you better than he. Azriel scolds himself for his juvenile envy. He hadn’t earned special intimacy with you. Yet , he amends.

He is a master of spies, and foremost of a scarce population who could wield shadows as easily as any blade, and the trusted right hand of the most formidable High Lord in history. Even in his own right, he is one of the most powerful Illyrians in existence, he reminds himself as he sets to the task of planning your date.

Azriel is determined to show you a good time. He thinks back to how organic, how right your brief time together at Rita’s had felt.

How badly could this go?

✸✸✸

“You’re an idiot. I knew you were an asshole, but honestly Az, I hadn’t pegged you as an idiot,” Cassian scoffs, his raven locks shaking derisively. “I don’t know why I expected better.”

Azriel just glares at him. He should have known it was a mistake to come to Cassian for advice.

He looks to Rhys, hoping to find more level headed counsel. The three of them were cooling down from their morning sparring the night after his much anticipated date with you, ransacking the kitchen to refuel. Unfortunately, Rhys’ expression isn’t encouraging, the High Lord barely concealing his amusement.

Azriel sighs, supplicating the ceiling for better guidance. He knows that their strenuous exercises aren’t solely to blame for the distant throbbing in his skull.

“Quit it with the hysterics,” Rhys teases.

Azriel levels him with a stare, his shoulders tense and his shadows in pandemonium.

Rhys sighs, relenting, “So, you were saying you took her out to dinner?” he prompts diplomatically.

Azriel nods. He had picked you up about an hour after you’d gotten out of work for the day. You’d been elegantly arrayed, but still casual, since you weren’t sure what he had planned. Your wide smile upon seeing him had left him winded as you’d taken in his generous physique. He’d been drinking you in too, and the sight of those same chunky boots on your feet had had him smirking.

You’d playfully bared your teeth as you laid your hand on his waiting arm. “See something you like, soldier?” you’d teased.

“Very much so,” he’d responded honestly.

His candor had struck you off balance with more punch than any sweet talk or sass could have packed. His eyes held the same intensity that they’d burned with the other night; the same intensity that you’d started to doubt in your memory, thinking you must have imagined it in your blissed out daze.

“You clean up nice, too,” you’d recovered.

He’d mirrored your blush then, his red dusted cheeks relaxing you as he’d guided the two of you along the Sidra into the center of town.

The restaurant had been nice, not too nice, but comfortable and intimate. You’d been thrilled with the menu, the seafood more exotic and the spices more daring than what you told him you were used to back in Day. Perhaps he should have commented more of his own thoughts, but he was so satisfied just to listen to your chatter.

“Dinner was good,” Azriel shares.

Rhys and Cassian share a look at that. They were probably holding a conversation mentally on the side, analyzing and strategizing.

“Well, don’t bore us with the details,” Rhys prompts sarcastically.

Azriel swallows his retort, reminding himself that these were his brothers. As much as they pissed him off, they were his family, and they wanted the best for him. They wanted him to be happy.

“What else do you want to know?!” he groans.

“Did you fuck her?” Cassian deadpans.

Azriel just sputters in response. He is quickly losing faith that his brothers will be any help, if that was the best Cass could do.

“No!” Azriel balks.

“What do you mean no!” Rhys shouts, as Cassian curses and shakes his head more, this time hiding his face in his hands.

“I mean, we… we did sleep together that first night,” Azriel amends, with a meaningful look at Cassian, who stops snickering. “But not last night.”

“Why the hell not?” Cassian demands.

“Is that all you can think about?” Az hedges. He honestly didn’t know why you hadn’t slept together again. He had certainly wanted to. Fuck, what he wouldn’t do for another chance to taste you, to take you back to his place– his real place this time, not the House of Wind– get you in his bed and run his hands over your thighs, and up, up, to brush his thumb through your soaking folds–

“Brother! You’re one to talk, you’re the one going stupid at the thought of her right now!” Cass’s accusation has him cursing and forcing his mind back to this maddening conversation.

Rhys regards him with a knowing look which does little to comfort him. The two males across the counter share another meaningful glance. Azriel runs his hand through his hair, he was going to lose his mind if they kept up their silent conversation.

I’m right here, assholes, he projects into their minds down the bridges Rhys had established centuries ago. Typically, they reserved their use for business, but clearly the High Lord and his Commander had no qualms using their privileged mental bridge to serve their busybody purposes.

Rhys has the decency to cringe, but Cassian dismisses his insult with the ease of one perfectly aware of his gold certified status as an ass.

“What did you do to her, Az?” Cass scorns.

“Okay. So dinner was good. That’s a good start,” Rhys interjects, suddenly playing the diplomat again as his brothers’ fists begin to curl. “What did the two of you talk about?” he prompts helplessly.

“Just… things.”

Cassian swears again at Azriel’s curt response, and even as his temper flares, Azriel sees how weak his answer is. “Okay! Okay. We… Well, she talked about her life back in Day. I asked her a lot about her work, and how their recovery efforts are progressing.”

Rhys nods, encouraging him.

“And I asked how she felt about the security of Day, since a myriad of threats remain unchecked, after everything, and since they don’t discriminate between courts but could affect any of us-”

Cassian groans, and Rhys winces.

“What! She cares about her people, I was trying to be attentive!” Az defends.

“Brother. It sounds like you were doing recon,” Rhys gently explains.

Az opens his mouth, then closes it.

“You grilled her about the status of her court’s border security,” Cass adds bluntly.

“I did not… grill her,” Azriel manages. “I just… fuck. Fuck!” he lets out. “Damn it! I was asking her about her interests,” he helplessly repeats.

Cassian and Rhys just look at him with pity.

He scowls, accepting that the dinner conversation was perhaps not as free flowing as things had been at Rita’s. Still, he’d have sworn that you’d enjoyed the evening. He looks up at his brothers, desperation written on his face. “What do I do?”

“Did you make plans to see each other again?” Cass asks hesitantly, a rare sign that he’s taking this seriously after all.

“No,” Azriel admits, “but she did say she’d like to see me again,” he adds, much to his brothers’ relief.

Rhys claps his hands together, capturing their attention, his shoulders squaring as he assumes his role as their sovereign strategist. “Alright. We can work with that,” he claims. “How do we go from here? What are the facts?”

“First, we have established that Az is an idiot,” Cassian chirps helpfully.

“Right,” Rhys confirms, and Azriel just rubs his temples. This was just like their young days at the training camp, only without the license to punch Cassian for mouthing off. “What else?”

“She wants to see him again.” Azriel opens his eyes and flashes a grateful smile at his brother, who ruins the moment by adding suggestively- ”Or at least she wants to see part of him again.”

Rhys sighs, mentally reaching out to Feyre to tell her that she’ll have to handle their mid-morning appointments solo. Everything okay? she responds. He replies wordlessly with the scene in front of him, his brothers bickering over their breakfast, Cass creating an impressively explicit insult with a chocolate pastry and Az returning in kind.

By the afternoon though, the three males have come up with a respectable plan to salvage Azriel’s tenuous connection with you.

✸✸✸

You’re surprised when you see a shadow slip along the stacks toward your spot barricaded in a corner of the Night Court’s library, poring over some dense tomes. They’re full of oblique explanations that reference texts that are equally inaccessible, even to you in your expertise. You’d just about decided it was time for a break when you see the shadow approach.

It curls around your hand in an affectionate welcome. As warmth flares in your chest, a note materializes, a welcomely legible message compared to the books you’d been buried in. You look around, despite the silent and largely empty library.

No one is present to witness your blush as you lightly stroke the first line. The note is addressed to your name in a neat script.

I’m writing with regard to my concern that you’ve had too grand an impression of my court , it reads. You can hear Azriel’s wry tone in the clear letters.

First the high class of Rita’s, then the dizzying heights of Velaris’ fine dining last night. You smile at his dry, self deprecating words. Your heart thunders as you continue reading.

I’d like to amend this most grievous picture with a far less elegant evening. Would you be available to join me for dinner tonight? Same time, and meet me at my place instead.

Please respond at your leisure. I would very much like to see you again–

–He’s included an address and signed merely with an initial, a sloping A , that you trace as you mull over his words.

His place? That last line too, I would very much like to see you again , seems less neat than the rest of his writing, almost hastily scrawled. As if it had been an afterthought. Or as if he’d been nervous to pen it?

You shake your head at his shadow twirling around your wrist, the messenger seemingly in no rush. You’d been confused after your date with the shadowsinger, and now even more so. He wanted to see you again.

The date last night hadn’t been bad. You’d certainly had worse experiences.

He had shown up right on time to pick you up from your doorstep, sweetly admiring you as you’d shakily locked up your place. When you’d caught his hungry gaze, that still novel thrill had shot through you, and you couldn’t help your smile. You’d been excited, and that feeling remained sparkling in your chest as you’d wound your way through the city towards the spot he’d picked out.

The meal you’d shared had been amazing, you were impressed with the whole affair. Azriel had looked indecently handsome in a soft black tunic and sleek charcoal pants, his siphons simmering ultramarine. You’d noticed he wore heavier leather boots…

“Nice boots,” you’d complemented with a small smirk.

“Thank you,” he had spoken sincerely, without marking your innuendo.

You’d meant it as a small temperature check, delicately referencing your previous frenzied hook up where you’d neglected to take off your shoes for the first couple rounds.

Either Azriel had missed your meaning, or he was establishing a boundary. You didn’t imagine the spymaster missed much, so you took it as an indication that he didn’t want to explicitly discuss what had happened between you.

Even that was confusing, since his eyes had still gravitated towards your lips, followed the movements of your throat, and beheld you with a ferocity you couldn’t tear yourself away from.

You held your tongue, though, about the research you’d done on how to get freaky with a winged individual. Honestly, that was probably for the best, you reflect, given how your sources were anecdotal at best. But damn! You’d done your due diligence, and you were hoping it would come in handy eventually.

Azriel had been kind to the staff, who did their best to conceal how unnerved they were by his presence. He’d been perfectly well mannered, you’d enjoyed picking his mind about court security and his entertaining stories about his family. Overall, it had felt like your conversation at Rita’s, free flowing and comfortable. You trace the evening in your mind now, finding it more complex than the books you’d been dissecting all morning.

You were used to speaking your mind, so you had planned to tell him directly that you’d like him to fuck you again, please and thank you .

And when he hadn’t responded to your lingering touches, or your meaningful looks, you figured it was the same pattern as last time; where his respectful attitude demanded he unleash his passion only slowly and incrementally as the night progressed. After he’d walked you home and you’d told him what a great time you’d had at dinner, you’d even gone so far as to invite him up to your place.

But he had declined.

The male who you thought had been undressing you with his eyes the whole way back had dodged your invitation, citing an early morning. You’d been so blindsided that you’d just accepted it.

Azriel had kissed you then, confusing you more as his hot mouth worked yours in a riveting connection. Then he had simply pulled away, his hazel eyes molten in the dark.

“I’d like to see you again.”

You cringe, recalling your words to him as he’d bade you good night. But he had seemed to practically preen at that, his shadows making lazy, arrogant circles around the horns at the apex of his wings.

So, all things considered, perhaps this note before you shouldn’t be a total surprise.

You’ll just have to talk directly with him, you reason. And the best way to do that will be to see him in person tonight. You briefly pen your enthusiastic agreement to send off with the shadow before returning to your work, heart a little lighter.

Azriel smiles as his shadow appears, depositing his note with your neat reply.

I look forward to seeing you tonight. Should I wear my boots? He laughs, spine tingling at his memory of you and those godsdamned shoes. He makes a note to remember to take them off of you tonight. If he’s so lucky…

✸✸✸

Azriel considers himself luckier than he deserves when you actually show up at his place that evening. You look resplendent, he thinks, starlight dusting your hair. Much to his embarrassment, his shadows swarm you the instant he opens his front door to your confident knock. He silently curses them and wills them to behave.

“They say hello, as well,” he says after greeting you.

“Hello to you too, then, you handsome little devils,” you flirt shamelessly with his shadows.

“Don’t encourage them,” Az chides affectionately, watching them as they double back to twirl in your hair and brush along your cheek. “They’re insufferable enough as is.”

You just laugh at their antics, flattered by their attention.

Quite frankly, you’re charmed. You couldn’t find any information on shadowsingers in your brief search on the topic. You aren’t sure how they work or how they speak to him, but you do know that you like them. The more you interact with them, you can sense their personality.

“You look beautiful,” he offers.

He takes your jacket, manners impeccable as he crisply hangs it on the back of his door.

“Thank you,” you blush, slyly admiring his wings as he’s turned away. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

You’re fooling no one. Azriel looks good. Really good. He’s handsome enough to win a best dressed contest naked, but this outfit works for him too. His sleek vest is a deep green, the first hint of color you’ve seen on him. It complements his eyes well, bringing out their gold. You’re enjoying his exposed forearms too, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You had caught the faint scent of citrus and cedar as you’d brushed past him to step inside. Your body is activated by the scent, recalling how it had lingered on his pillows. Overwhelmed by the pleasant picture, you swallow the memory.

Before he can catch you checking him out, you catch a mouthwatering aroma.

“Did you cook?”

His bashful look has your heart melting as he leads you to his kitchen. Indeed, the male had cooked a glorious meal. The dishes themselves aren’t particularly rich fare, but the volume is definitely more than two can pack away. He's gone all out.

As you marvel at his production, it strikes you how surreal this is, how extraordinary. You’re here. In his kitchen. The famed shadowsinger has made you roast fowl from scratch.

To distract yourself from the absurdity of the picture, you focus on the details. There's herbs tied up in bundles hanging from his shelves. You get a glance inside one cabinet as he grabs a bottle of wine, and, unsurprisingly, their contents are very neat.

“I’m impressed.”

“That’s the general idea,” he winks as he pours you a nice glass.

This was one step of his preparation for the evening. One key element of a winning battle was the location, situating your forces in the most optimal position. Now, his simple task is to figure out how to build a beautiful, long lasting relationship with a brilliant female out of a fancy goose carcass and herb potatoes. He grits his teeth. The night isn’t nearly over yet.

You accept the drink with thanks.

“So, this is your place?”

Azriel just nods.

“So, did you rent that palace temporarily, or?” you try again.

“Oh, that was the House of Wind.”

You raise your eyebrows at the lack of explanation. “It sure was windy.”

He catches your question then, “Oh- sorry, yes. It’s essentially our, that is, the court members’, public house-” he launches into the explanation you’d been looking for.

You’d imagined he would be more comfortable in his own home, but he seems uneasy. The male remains as inscrutable as ever. You hadn’t realized how much you usually rely on nonverbal cues to read people. He is so reserved– by training– and also obscured– literally, by shadows.

As you chat amiably about the city and its organization and his confusing housing situation, he leads you to his sitting room. You were surprised at your nerves even as you converse easily, typically you weren’t so easily ruffled. Then again, it’s been a while since you’d been so swept up by someone.

“It’s nice,” you say, looking around the room.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s cozier than the palace was, the sweeping views exchanged for a comfortable and surprisingly cheerful atmosphere. The furniture is cushy, but practical, sturdy.

“I know it’s not much like the palace,” he reads your mind.

“No, I like that it's cozier. I just don’t know how you fit in the door,” you joke, gesturing vaguely at his scale, between his muscled form and looming wings. He laughs at that, and you banter back and forth about what a pity it is that there’s such a lack of Illyrian sized accommodations. Your shared laughter fades into a silence only broken by the crack of logs burning slowly in his hearth, crumbling voicelessly into embers.

You let the moment stretch, taking the moment to appreciate the relaxed evening ahead of you, unwinding from your long day at work.

Azriel, meanwhile, is counting the remaining threads of his sanity on one hand. Give him a fistfight. Give him an enemy regime to infiltrate. But gods save him from making conversation with a female he likes. He thought the relaxed setting would be more casual, but his chest is still tight as he tries to behave normally. Maybe this was a bad idea…

The pleasant silence continues to grate on Azriel, until he crumbles. “We can eat whenever,” he says, breaking the spell. He curses himself for his cowardice, sidestepping whatever was growing in the lingering quiet between you.

“This is nice, though,” you say into your wine, undeterred. It really is good stuff. You aren’t a sommelier but you know a drinkable vintage when it hits your tongue.

“Yeah,” he relaxes somewhat into the couch next to you again.

Hazel eyes meet yours, the fire from the hearth flickering in their reflection. You really are enjoying the peaceful atmosphere with him. His hair is styled a little differently than you remember, the waves flopping in a charming swoop across his forehead rather than brushed back. Your gaze dips to his lips, damp with wine. His pupils expand almost imperceptibly as they track the movement, like prey scenting a threat.

A loud knock interrupts your mooning.

Azriel frowns, one of his shadows streaking off to investigate the front door. His scowl deepens before his scout even returns, as the knocking continues, adamant.

“One moment,” Azriel says reluctantly, with an apologetic look as he stands. You nod, your attention on his tense form, his wings obscuring the door as he whips it open.

“What are you doing here?” you hear Azriel hiss.

“Rhys has no good wine left,” Cassian whines as he brushes past Azriel at the door. “Oh, hello again!” he says to you with a winning smile as he emerges from the entryway, somehow edging around the imposing shadowsinger.

“Hi,” you say quietly, but not weakly, looking to Azriel for your cues. His face is unreadable, a dark storm clouding his features once more.

“Wait up, you brute!” a female voice speaks, and Azriel’s face darkens further as a stunning female pushes her way in. You recognize her from the bar, she was one of the group Az had pointed out as his family. Mor , her name surfaces in your mind. She was the one who brought them all to Rita’s frequently.

You could guess why she might prefer that particular spot, as her eyes rake over you. She flicks her hair flirtatiously.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she says boldly, extending a hand as you rise from Azriel’s couch, making your way to join them at the front of the room. You tell her your name, and she flashes you a smile, all teeth as she bites her lip.

“Mor,” she offers.

“Yes– it’s nice to meet you officially. Azriel has told me a bit about all of you,” you admit.

“Really?” she says with genuine interest, looking at the shadowsinger curiously. Her mind seems to be working at top speed as she takes in the two of you, him sulking by the open door and you standing comfortably by the entryway to his sitting area, your glass of wine by his couch half empty.

“Yes, well,” Azriel begins, trying to reel in his invading family, “we were just about to eat, so–”

“Yes, why don’t you join us!” you suggest. You miss Cassian’s shit eating grin and Azriel’s shocked expression as you turn to Mor.

“We would hate to intrude,” Cassian lies. He’s schooled his face into one of total propriety, a convincing facade only to you.

“No, it’ll be fun!” you encourage, finally looking to Azriel.

You feel bad to take charge, but he is giving you no clues. Welcoming his family seems like a safe play. Even if they were crashing your date, you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious to get to know them after the bits and pieces Az has shared.

Plus, you’d seen the way his eyes had flashed with alarm when you’d glanced at his lips. Maybe he’d be glad of the diversion...

“If you insist,” Cassian drawls at the same time as Mor asks “What’s that smell?”

You grab her arm cheerfully to lead her into the kitchen, eagerly sharing about the enticing meal Az had prepared.

Azriel grabs Cassian, holding him hostage in the entryway as the two females disappear into his home. “This was not the plan!” he spits in a furious whisper.

“It wasn’t your plan,” Cassian corrects in his most infuriating tone: superiority.

Azriel just growls at him as they move inside, shooting him a look that says Don’t fuck this up for me .

Cassian’s silent reply comes with mock innocence, Who, me?

Azriel’s lethal retort is snuffed out as he registers your laugh from around the corner. “Be nice!” is all Az manages before he steps into the kitchen to investigate what potentially devastating story Mor is telling to make you laugh like that. Why did Cassian think that he needed babysitting?

His anger bluffs as he takes in your red face, your grinning laughter directed at him. He can’t bring himself to feel upset when you’re giggling like a fool in his kitchen.

“Did you really steal this wine from Amren on a dare?” you wheeze gleefully, hefting the open bottle with newfound interest.

He mirrors your grin, “What kind of spy would I be if I admitted to it?”

You and Mor squeal at his response, she starts yelling at him that Of course he did it, he could never back down from a dare , and Cassian is laughing now too, butting in to tell you his side of the story, to explain his most elegantly devised dare, as Mor slaps his chest and reminds him about the many shots that had contributed to its flawed design. Azriel takes in the scene, so chaotic and so not what he had planned. You catch his eye from across the small room, your eyes shining with mirth.

You seem perfectly at home, pouring two extra glasses of wine for your unexpected guests. He shakes his head affectionately, surrendering to the new program for the evening.

As he sets the table for you and his family, he tries to remember why he was so angry just moments ago. That fire has faded to warmth, calm radiating from his chest at the familiar scene before him.

Cassian seats himself first, and then Mor insists on sitting next to you, so Azriel ends up facing you across the table. You give him a small smile, a brief look meant just for him, as his brother piles food onto his plate with gusto. You see Azriel swallow his annoyance, his face betraying that he’d cooked those fucking rosemary potatoes for you, not Cass. They’re passed to you next, and you see him relax as you dish yourself a generous portion. As the dishes rotate, the smell of the simple feast nears heavenly.

The chatter pitches higher too, Cassian asking you about Day and Mor describing the miracle that must have resulted in Azriel’s culinary art. Question after question is posed to you, apparently they find you as fascinating as you find them.

This is nothing like you’d pictured, you think, as insults and compliments are exchanged around you. And you had pictured it, what meeting Azriel’s family would be like. What else were you supposed to do with yourself last night, having been declined sex after a nice date?

It had been a clunky vision, more so based on your experiences with the formal dinners you’d attended for work than with meeting a partner’s friends and family.

You’d struggled to picture how you could possibly connect with his inner circle, elite as they were. The daydream had been promptly abandoned after you’d failed to conjure anything remotely pleasant. Azriel was always charming as ever in the imagined scenarios, but you’d not factored in the wholly unpretentious warmth he has with his closest friends.

You see that tenderness now as he rolls his eyes at the two imposing faeries, the pair of them representing a significant part of his family. A memory flashes in your mind at the sight, a memory of tenderness when he’d been admiring you in bed that morning a handful of days ago. But they'd all known each other for centuries. You’d known him for a handful of days. Was it foolish of you to dream that you’d earn a place in his world? You thought of the small case of belongings you’d brought with you from Day. Suddenly, it felt paltry, lacking, especially as you pictured your friends and work back at home.

But who cares if your presence here is inconsequential in the long run? It matters to you that you are here now, and you’re pretty sure it matters to Azriel. You reaffix your smile, deciding to enjoy the moment you’re in.

“Azriel is a total ladykiller,” Mor cackles, and you regret having zoned out during this particular story. Azriel snorts at her words, but you blush at their partial truth.

“Yeah,” Cassian catches your attention by speaking your name in a questioning tone, “Can you fight?”

“Only verbally,” you confess, a little nervous to admit it to your current company of seasoned warriors.

Cassian grunts in acknowledgement, nonjudgmental. He narrows his eyes, humor dissipating as he assesses you. “We can work with that,” he decides, suddenly sounding serious. “I can teach you the basics, but Azriel might want to show you the more advanced maneuvers himself,” he says with a wink.

Azriel blushes and glares at the innuendo, while Mor laughs around her bite. Yet the depth behind Cassian’s proposal strikes you. His offer assumes that you’ll be sticking around.

“I’d like that,” you accept, smiling at the general next to you.

Azriel feels his chest go weightless at your words, like he’s soaring high above the atmosphere. He flashes his brother a grateful look before clearing his throat.

“Don’t go easy on her, Cass. She’s lying,” Azriel warns, with a mischievous glance at you. Your shadowsinger has certainly lost whatever hesitation he had earlier, his bold words matching his newfound audacity. “She was totally squaring up with some dipshit at Rita’s before I intervened.”

You gape at him as Cass and Mor squawk. The two of them launch into an intense interrogation, demanding the full story.

As you recall the evening in question, you feel yourself precariously close to an embarrassing blush. The mortal blow comes when Azriel laughs, the sound noon-bright and ringing, buzzing loud as gossip.

Eventually, after several more glasses of wine, with empty plates to match, Azriel disentangles you from Mor and Cassian’s endless chatter. You’re reluctant to see your new friends leave, and the amused male only successfully ushers them out after you make Cassian swear to keep his promise to teach you to fight. Content, you wish everyone a good night and thank them for their warm welcome to the Night Court.

Once the door closes, Azriel heaves out a good natured sigh.

“What were you and Mor whispering about just now?” you pry, still giddy in the wake of your departed company. You liked them a lot, and you like who Azriel became around them, as laid-back as a seasoned spy could be.

“She was telling me how my head might end up on a pike if I don’t watch myself,” he responds drily, and you notice him rub his temple harshly with a knuckle.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out.

His brows furrow, “Why?”

“I totally invited them to stay when it wasn’t my place,” you explain, shaking your head in regret. “Did I totally ruin our date?”

“Well I ruined the last one,” he says with humor, “so it was your turn.”

“What? No you didn't!” you defend him.

You’re shocked by his candid words. The date had been a bit awkward at the end, but it wasn’t a disaster in your eyes.

“Yes, I did.”

“What do you mean?” you search as you walk back into the kitchen to start cleaning up, “Like how we didn’t have sex?” Azriel chokes, his humor vanishing as you continue, “I was going to ask about that, but I figured it was a topic we should address privately.”

“Thank you for that small mercy,” he recovers. His shadows betray his agitation, floating jerkily around his shoulders in a confused dance.

You realize with a start that he’s nervous. The war hardened fighter is unnerved by a conversation about sex.

You’d really meant to ask earlier, but it wasn’t going to happen in front of Cass and Mor. The conversation at dinner had been enthusiastic and expansive, lighthearted at every turn. You’d assumed its levity was due to the fact that you were new, unfamiliar company. Now, seeing Azriel fight demons to self-reflect, you wonder if he ever really opens up to anyone, even his closest family members.

In all fairness, you aren’t exactly thrilled to talk about it either. You're nervous too, painfully aware that there’s an obvious explanation as to why he didn’t sleep with you again.

The male sighs again at your inquisitive look, his hands scrubbing over his face like he can wipe away his confusion. His brows furrow. “I honestly don’t know why we didn’t,” he says quietly.

You’re surprised at his answer. You’d expected more substance.

“I wanted to, you know,” you admit, pride be damned. If you were going out, you wanted to leave all your cards on the table.

“Really?” He mirrors your surprise. “I did too. I wanted you so badly, it scared me.”

You look at the battle scarred warrior, unimpressed. Even slouching, which he never did, he would still stand at least a good head above you.

You ask with disbelief, “ I scared you ?”

“Well… not exactly like that,” he explains, and he reaches out carefully to grasp your hand in his large palm. “I guess I was being… cautious. I wanted to be respectful.”

His words shatter something fledgling in your heart. That was practically code for I’m trying to be nice, I don’t want to lead you on .

“Oh.” You drop his hand, bracing yourself for the dreaded sting of rejection.

As he sees your expression harden, Azriel curses himself inwardly. This isn’t going the way he’d strategized it at all. His forehead creases as he desperately tries to remember the points he and his brothers had mapped out to help him with this exact conversation. Maybe Cassian was right to spare him from being alone with you, if he’s fucked it up this quickly.

Azriel thinks back to the previous night, when he had declined your invitation to come upstairs. He’d seen the chill on your face, a chill from his own closed door. You hadn’t pushed his boundaries. Rhys had pointed out to him that from his behavior, you probably couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Hell, even from inside his own head, Azriel was struggling to work out his thoughts.

The gravity of his attraction to you is concerning. It was a dangerous thing, the weight of it as great and terrible as a sword in his hands.

He wants your affection, he realizes. The trouble is: asking the spymaster to share his innermost secrets is like asking a busybody to keep just one. It went against his nature.

He pictures you as you were when he first saw you, gearing up for a fight at Rita’s. You’d been fearsome as ever, confronting the challenge rather than running. He wills himself the same bravery. He is a fearsome warrior, he absolutely refuses to allow mere emotion to make him a coward.

“I need you to understand something,” Azriel breathes, his wings tight as his expression. “I can’t do this if it’s just sex.”

You set down a dish heavily, your once sun-soaked heart breaking.

“If you, uh, don’t want this, that’s, that’s fine. I respect that,” you affirm, even as you’re reeling.

But then Azriel is shaking his head and wiping under your eyes, which you belatedly realize with embarrassment must mean that you’re crying. He’s trying to tell you how he feels and you’re crying on him. Gods! Get it together! you berate yourself.

“No, no, no. Angel, look at me,” Azriel panics. You meet his gaze, and you see a tenderness there, as ripe and sweet as the summer plums you used to pick with your mother as a child. “Shit, I’m doing this all wrong,” he curses.

“I can’t do casual,” he confesses, head still shaking, eyes gone glossy.

“That’s okay, I get it if you don’t want this–”

“No! No, you don’t get it,” he interrupts, swearing and speaking your name with exasperated affection. “I do want this. I want you .”

You gasp, teeth kissing the air as he continues.

“I want you. You said it wasn’t your place to invite them to stay tonight, but I want it to be your place. Fuck, I want to see you every day. I want to come home to you, and to know you’re waiting for me when I’m gone. And some days I want to wait for you too, and get jealous of the books you spend your time with.”

You try to say something clever like What the fuck? or Huh? but you’re too shocked to do much more than stare open mouthed as he lays out his emotions for you. At least you’ve stopped crying.

Azriel is looking at you as if you were personally responsible for every ounce of goodness he’s ever witnessed. It scares the shit out of you. How could he say all that? He doesn’t even know you. It doesn’t help that three seconds ago you thought he was going to kick you out.

“Why me?” you finally manage.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he says, unblinking.

In a total inversion of all Azriel had ever known, he felt an overwhelming impulse to bare his soul to you. You’d never been scared of him, even when he’d put on his most frightening persona at the bar. You’d taken his identity in stride, you’d even used it to flirt.

He wants you to know him, he realizes. All of him. Even the darkest parts, the cruel, mean pieces with which he wouldn’t want to burden anyone but himself. For some unknown reason, at this moment, he can think of no greater honor than your involvement in his world, his reality, ugly as it may be. He hopes you’ll want it.

He takes your hand and places it on his heart, gripping it over his chest. When he speaks, his voice is ragged, tender and raw.

“You must know. You burn me,” Azriel confesses. “Surely you feel how you burn me.”

What you feel is your heart in your throat, pulsing erratically at his words. The naked truth on his face frightens you.

Your free hand reaches out to caress his high cheekbone as your mind whirls. His eyes close at the contact, his lips parted in silent prayer.

“I feel it too.”

When your thumb brushes the edge of his bottom lip, those hazel eyes flutter open again. The energy between you is thicker than it was moments ago, something fresh set smoldering in his gaze. His chest heaves under your other palm.

“You do?” he gasps, and you nod, words failing under the enormity of your emotion.

He’s equally choked up, so he opts for actions instead, pulling you against him to capture your lips in a messy kiss. It’s all wine-breath and teeth, but it’s perfect.

Your uncontrollable smile forces you to break away, and when you do he’s smiling at you just the same. His joy is infectious. For a long moment, you just smile at each other like fools, breathing each other's air in the sacred ambiance of the dim kitchen light. You linger in the quiet awe in the wake of your confessions.

When your mouths reconnect, the kiss turns feverish. It’s insatiable, your desire for him, as you suck his tongue, earning a satisfying whine from the hulking Illyrian.

“Shit,” he groans as he lifts you.

You gasp as your weight shifts off your feet, and he sets you against his counter before reconnecting your panting mouths. The insufferable Illyrian pushes one of his thighs between your legs, capturing your muffled groans with his warm mouth, tonguing away your soft cries.

“Make me yours,” you whisper.

“Shit, baby, I think I’d do anything you ask if you say it just like that,” he whines against your mouth.

He pulls away, standing between your legs like it's a place of special honor.

“Bedroom?” he begs, shining with unchecked joy.

“Yes,” you eagerly agree. “We can break in the kitchen counter later.” His laughter rattles down the hallway as he carries you to his room.

Once you’re through the doorway, his movements pause. A tender note hums to life amidst the excitement of your newfound connection. There’s a tender look on his face as he regards you with equal parts lust and affection. It’s a serious step for him, to have you here in his most personal place.

You’re distracted by the new space as soon as he sets you down, fascinated with his room– his personal room, not the one kept for him at the House of Wind. It’s sparsely decorated, too, but there’s knick knacks and weapons lying around in characteristically organized fashion.

“A lot of weapons…” you comment, humor bubbling up from your delight at the novelty of his affection and attention.

There’s several swords on the wall, artfully placed in the columns between windows, and knives and spears are displayed in tasteful and accessible ways. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was compensating for something. Is that a halberd? you think. The last time you saw a halberd was in an illustration on an ancient manuscript.

“What do you do for work again?” you joke.

He laughs, “I’m afraid the tools come with the trade.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but, I mean, seriously. That one?” You gesture above the balcony doors, where a grossly oversized sword rests. “Come on, Az!”

“Come on, I bet your place is full of books!” he counters.

You just scoff, so he knows he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, fondly. “You can inspect my quarters later, you freak.”

“Your freak,” you correct.

“My freak,” he agrees.

With that, Azriel grabs your waist, and pulls you in for a sumptuous kiss. The wine on his tongue goes right to your head, while the warmth of him goes due south. You pull away to tug meaningfully at his shirt, but he just follows to place expert kisses along your jaw. His work is so severe that you gasp–

“Shit, Az, I'm not paying you!”

“Are you calling me a whore?” he answers playfully, unfastening his shirt at the back under his wings. He sucks on his teeth, pulling away to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. The payment didn’t go through last time–”

“Oh, no–”

“–yeah, so if you could, perhaps, pay in hard gold this time, that would be–”

“Ah, okay. Could you do a payment plan?–” the two of you banter while he shrugs off his vest. You relish the view of his exposed chest.

He plays into your shameless ogling, flexing to show off his whorling tattoos and the dark hairs trailing down beyond his leathers. The faelights surrounding the room cast a glow through the thin membrane of his wings, softly limning his form with warmth. You laugh at his peep show, but the sound is pitchy with your arousal. The toned male blushes. His easy humor may have returned, but vestiges of his shy personality still remain.

You whistle softly, continuing to torture him with your attention. His blush deepens impossibly. He’s just so easy to tease, and when he reacts like that, it's easier still to justify.

“Your turn,” he says, voice gravelly.

“What first?” you muse suggestively, smoothing down your dress.

“Boots,” he chooses.

Before you can toe them off, Azriel sinks suddenly to the floor. The sight of him on his knees before you sends a thrill up your spine.

Azriel, this most fearsome Illyrian, is totally surrendered to you. Heat throbs through your abdomen at the sight. He’s looking up at you through his lashes, his throat bobbing in anticipation as he pants below you. You haven’t even touched him yet, but his passion is evident, his eyes wild.

He gently grabs the back of your shins. “May I?”

“Please.”

He effortlessly unlaces your boots with capable hands.

“I’m surprised you want them off,” you tease as he grasps your hands to steady you as you step out of them.

“You look so sexy in them,” he agrees. “I am making a real sacrifice here, for your comfort.” His hand skims up the back of your calf, brushing your dress over your knee with his thumb. He places a kiss directly on your knee, heat flaring in your stomach at the soft brush.

“You look sexy in this too,” he compliments. His eyes never leave yours as he hauls himself up, you dress falling back to cover your legs.

“Would you be mad if I asked you to take it off?” His tone is toying, but his eyes are pools of hot desire.

“Don’t be an ass,” you rasp, mad only with anticipation.

Azriel slips two fingers under the straps on your shoulders, kissing your chest as he tugs them down your arms. You’re honestly impressed that he finds the hidden zipper at your side. Nothing escapes him, does it?

His hands come to brush along your freshly exposed skin, whispering praises into your hot flesh. After he peels off your dress with zeal, you raise a finger in warning.

“Be careful with that. I actually want it back!”

“I promise I won’t lose it this time.”

“Your promise is nothing to me! You never found my shirt, huh?”

“No,” he confesses with an exaggerated air of regret, blowing out his lips in sympathy. Your eyes narrow at his suspicious behavior.

“How do I know that you didn’t just steal it like a creep so you could jack off with it or something?” you say with mock sensuality.

“I wish,” he hums, thumbing the discarded material of your shimmering dress as if you’ve given him a brilliant idea. “Honestly, that would have helped me out the other night.”

Azriel freezes, his eyes widening as he realizes his slip. Your grin mirrors his horror at his admission. A dull ache blooms anew below your stomach.

“Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” you breathe.

“Maybe.”

His voice is thick even as he squirms under your riveted look. His wings flutter briefly before relaxing as he spots the excitement on your flushed face.

“Fuck,” you groan. “That's hot. Please don’t be embarrassed, that’s so flattering!”

Your words do nothing to prevent the hot flush spreading across his cheeks and chest. You push him to the bed, giggling when he falls onto the cushions dramatically before unceremoniously shucking off his pants.

He makes grabby hands at you, and you melt at the sight of him, disheveled and unarmed, and as excited as you were. He pulls you towards him, bringing you to rest on his bare thigh.

You kiss his sternum, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I want you to show me.”

Azriel pauses, and his breathing goes a little uneven.

“Show you?” he repeats, his eyes blown out as you rub encouraging circles into his shoulder from your perch on his thigh.

“I want you to touch yourself,” you purr. “Show me how you like it.”

His brows twitch, his eyes going predatory under heavy lids.

“It might be your last opportunity for a while, since I’m gonna be pretty fucking jealous of that hand if it steals too much time in my territory,” you admit with a meaningful glance towards his crotch.

He laughs at that, but it doesn’t dampen the flame in his vision.

“Okay,” he murmurs devilishly. “Get comfortable.”

It will be a cold day in hell when Azriel denies such a request from you.

He makes a show of shifting to rest comfortably against the cushions, his wings extending lazily to drape across the pillows and trailing to the floor. The wide expanse of his chest shines in the low faelight, his swirling tattoos prominent even in the dimness. The hard ridges of his muscles contract rhythmically in time with his powerful lungs. His nipples are hard, he shivers in the slight chill as he rubs a hand through his dark hair, tugging roughly.

You come to rest just above his knee on his left thigh, essentially kneeling in the center of his bed. The slight contact has you boiling as you watch him trail a hand along his torso, one hand still teasing his hair. Your focus trails his toned abdomen down to his prominent arousal.

“Well you won’t have to use your imagination, like I did, for the first part,” he begins lowly, “because, if you must know, I was already this hard before I could get out of my leathers.”

If you weren’t dripping already, you are now. You’d been joking earlier, but this show really was worth some hard gold. Anyone would kill to see the fearsome Illyrian splayed out like this.

Azriel hisses as he strokes slowly down his abs, his chest rising and falling in a tortured cadence. After some time stimulating himself in this way, his moans become breathy.

With one hand, he deftly pulls himself out of his undershorts, and you can’t help yourself from reaching out to slide them a little further down his hips. Your mouth falls open at the sight of his sharp hip bones and the delicious stretch leading to the base of his heavy cock.

Its red tip bobs temptingly at your knee, but you restrain yourself. You shift slightly, looking for some relief, and your knee accidentally brushes the edge of his wing. His hips buck involuntarily, a whine falling from his lips at the contact.

“Shit, baby,” he cries. He hasn’t even touched himself, but his dick is straining against his stomach.

“Sorry,” you say weakly.

“Liar,” he growls, seeing the hunger in your gaze.

You shrug, unapologetic. Let him see what he did to you. It was his funeral at the moment.

He was focused on you, indeed, eyes roving around your naked form as he flexed his thigh beneath you. You start to circle your hips, your breasts bouncing with the sudden movement, until you hear him hum in pleasure. He was getting off from the vibration.

“Don’t cheat,” you scold.

He just whines, reluctantly stopping his thigh flexes.

“Good boy. I’d hate to have to punish you, baby,” you warn.

You meant it playfully, but his breathing falters and his wings twitch. Interesting. You file the information away for another time.

His fingers catch your attention as they come to play with the soft underbelly of his cock, just under the head. He used two fingers to rub small circles on the tender flesh. The spot was right where it had landed on your tongue when you’d taken him in your mouth briefly the other night. Again, interesting.

“This- this is supposed to be erotic,” Azriel struggles, “and you’re studying me like, like…”

“You’re a very compelling study,” you inform him in your most sensual voice as he struggles to speak.

“Fuck,” he says, “don’t tease me.”

But you see the effect your praise has on him. His fingers finally circle his length fully, pulling short strokes at the head. The whimper that falls from your lips would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so melodic in company with his grunts and moans. His expression is so unguarded, lit as it is by ecstasy.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you murmur.

The shadow singer's back arches off the bed at one particularly harsh tug, his rhythm never faltering. His accuracy is almost uncanny. He must have honed the art of his pleasure with the same rigor and precision as the rest of his work. The test of the room fades as your focus is wholly captured by the male sighing below you. You’re obsessed with the unholy picture of his hand wrapped around his cock.

His shadows shift along his wings in time with his strokes. Sluggishly, you realize they must be stimulating him as well. The thought renders the ache at your core unbearable.

Even through his euphoria, Azriel is receptive to your every expression. He sees your frustration.

“What do you need, angel,” he hums.

You respond reflexively, your hips grinding into his thick thigh. Your face heats as you register the motion. It was just what you needed, though. You certainly didn't want him to stop what he was doing, his fist pumping wickedly.

“Go on then,” he purrs.

The desire in his eyes encourages you to resume the motion, rocking your pelvis against the solid muscle of his thigh.

“You look so perfect,” he praises.

“And you’re sex incarnate, Az.”

You position yourself further up his thigh, balancing on your shins as your knees brush his wingtips again. You’re rewarded with a throaty groan for your flirting. The sight and vibration of your riding his thigh has the male slowing his hand, and gripping at the base of his cock. You’re not faring any better.

You brace yourself against his chest with your arms, both of you sensitive to the barest touch. The slight pressure on his chest has him hurtling towards the edge again. As he holds off his own strokes, he sends his shadows towards your form, your makeshift rules be damned.

The sighs you breathe are far from a complaint. His shadows lick up your form with tender phantom touches, and you feel the pleasure build in your core. Your rhythm starts to slip as you chase your release. His sculpted thigh should not be making you feel this good, but you start to see stars and you know the male can’t be fully mortal.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he pants, as enthralled with your euphoria as he is with his own.

You barely register his praises as your orgasm shatters you, his shadows licking along with the pleasure racing through your body. As the waves wrack you, he drinks in your scrunched features, the soft cavity of your gasping mouth. You meet his eyes as you hurtle over the edge, the image of his carnal devotion seared into your mind. It would be unnerving if it wasn’t such a reflection of your own feral interior.

“That was so hot,” Azriel praises.

“Pervert. You were supposed to be giving me a show,” you pant, frowning as you catch your breath.

“I think I gave you a proper show, if that was your reaction.”

He’s earned a smug attitude, you figure. Your vision is still a little blurry, but you feel his shadows and fingers rubbing soothing patterns along your upper thighs. A different warmth blooms as you cool down from your blistering orgasm.

As you marvel at the intimacy of his gestures, Azriel’s head is clearing enough to fully appreciate the sight of you in his bed.

He had been on the brink of the most mind blowing orgasm of his life, yet he doesn’t even care about the urgency he’s feeling from his dick as he commits the image of you in his room to memory. It feels so right to have you here, just like it felt right to share a drink with you at Rita’s, and to sit down for a meal with you with his family.

Azriel reflects on the thought he’d had days ago, how he’s fallen into the gravity of powers like this before, but never in such blissful hues. His mind flashes back to battles he’s fought, the enemies he’s faced. Every time, the contact of such powers results in a brief conflict, a decisive end. The conclusion is inevitable; the force of the challenge undeniable in its strength and direction. This attraction, though. What to make of it?

The intensity is similar– his current adrenaline certainly feels like he’s just seen someone draw a sword, but it’s different. Your power was a challenge, but an invitation too.

The feeling is like the gravity in his gut at the beginning of a flight, when he’s leaping off of a cliff, that brief tension borne in the short moment between the stability of the ground and the strength of his wings. The feeling is prolonged, like he’s suspended there with you.

He finds that he doesn’t mind it so much, with you there, caught up in it just as much as he is. Besides, he’s tired of keeping everyone at arm’s length, he decides. He’s always loved flying, even if he came to it later than the others. Why should love be any different?

“Can you fuck me now?”

Your unsubtle words break his delicate reverie. Oh, he’s in serious trouble, he thinks as he sees you bite your lip.

“I’m not going to last,” he warns.

“Same here,” you admit. You were already feeling overstimulated, you doubt you’ll last long at his pace. “I want to feel you though.”

He presses a messy kiss to your mouth, savoring the moment. You’re just as unhurried, glad to linger in any moment with the gorgeous male below you. Strong hands guide you to straddle his hips, his legs bent slightly to support your lower back as he leans against the headboard.

When he finally enters you, he groans lowly.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

Your response is garbled by your euphoria. What you feel is euphoric relief, his cock filling you with a satisfying burn. Despite his size, the pain is minimal, your wetness helping him slide in easily. He grips your forearms, bringing your hands to anchor on his shoulders.

“It’s like you were made for me,” he slurs, delirious already.

The position is intimate. As he begins to rock you over his hips, your focus falls to explore the stunning male. Azriel is so fucked out already, raw from having edged himself earlier. His body is slick with perspiration, his face set in concentration, eyes blown out. Your hands on his shoulders are broiling with his heat.

His dark hair falls limply against the cushions, and his wings are hanging loosely, like he has no extra stamina to hold his posture. He meets your gaze, and the eye contact somehow feels even more intimate than the position you’re in. He seems entranced. The agony on his face is underscored by his attention fixed on your every move. It's like he’s seeing your soul, plucking the thread of your need and following it faithfully.

Using his broad shoulders as leverage, you start to fuck yourself on him. You’re rewarded with a stuttering groan as his hips thrust in time to meet you. Your head falls back in pleasure when your clit is ground deliciously against the coarse hair at the base of his pelvis as you bounce on him. Between his thick cock and his hard abdomen, you're perfectly stimulated.

The room becomes thick with the heat and scent of your sex. All of your senses are riveted to the male below you, to the pleasure being delivered to your core. Soft sighs and deep groans fill the air as you fuck at an agonizing pace.

His hands release their death grip on your hips, moving to explore your thighs and chest. The rough sensation of his hands over your skin is fuel to the fire of your appetite.

Desperate for somewhere to release your energy, you lean forward to connect your mouths. He hums in delight at the sudden kiss. You taste his sweat and his fervor, and it’s intoxicating.

When you pull away, his lips are shining with spit. Azriel looks like a male possessed.

“Shit, angel. Can we do this, like… all the time?” he begs.

“We haven’t even– even finished, and you’re– you’re thinking about doing it again?” you manage.

“Can you blame me?” he retorts. He emphasizes his words with a particularly vicious thrust that has you gasping.

“Please,” you cry. “We had better do this often.”

“ Awesome ,” he cheers breathlessly with a small smile to himself.

Your heart sputters at the sweetly boyish comment. Here he was, inside you, and he was excited at the idea of fucking you again later. It isn't just your body either, which was a major plus, but he likes you . Earlier he’d confessed that he wants more than sex. He wants to bring you into his life in a more serious way too.

You envision yourself bringing some belongings here, working at the library during the day, dining with Azriel and his family in the evenings. And at night, he would bring you here, to his bed, where he would ravish you. You relax into his body further as you realize you’ll have many opportunities to fuck him. He’d gotten excited earlier when you’d suggested some kinkier things. And, sure, he’d laughed when you’d joked about fucking in the kitchen, but he’d not seemed opposed.

“Are you with me?”

You blink, coming back to the present. If you were going to blame him for getting excited about future sexual escapades in the middle of fucking, you were guilty too. Thankfully, your body kept up the rhythm on reflex, cause you were just miles away in a diaphanous dream of your mutual future.

“There she is,” he smiles at you fondly as he rocks you mercilessly onto his cock.

His stamina was impressive. Despite your fatigue, arousal has your body pulsing with adrenaline. The familiar pressure mounts in your abdomen as you grind onto him.

As he eases your pleasure along, he’s transfixed by the sight of your bodies meeting, your hips swallowing him into your soaking hole. The feeling of your nails scraping at his scalp plunges him further into rapture, the slight sting heightening his sensitivity.

“I’m close,” you warn him.

“I’m with you, angel,” he pants. “Come on, baby.”

You abandon your bouncing to grind selfishly against him, chasing your bliss. He’s content with the debauched sight and the warmth of you around him. When your hand tugs his hair again, his dick twitches. Then your fisted knuckles brush his wings ever so delicately and his hips lurch, his shadows rioting.

Azriel is dangerously on the edge, but he’s determined to watch you unravel first, his competitive and generous spirits united under his indecent desire to see you come undone. Even as he appears depraved, he feels devoted. Your ecstasy was his own.

One last delicious shift of his cock scraping your walls, and your release staggers you. Your eyes flutter shut as crystalized bliss shatters over you. His scent envelops you, the salt of sweat mixing with tangy citrus. It transports you to a realm of bliss, where the only presence is yours and his, a delicious meeting of your senses.

The agonizing image of your ecstasy has him spilling inside you, his whines cresting as he climaxes. His teeth scrape yours in a sloppy openmouthed kiss. You ride out your orgasms, hips jerking erratically, waves of pleasure ebbing languidly.

You’re left with a warm buzz, even the discomfort of your stickiness feels rather like sweetness as you take in the glorious male. When your eyes catch, his lips curl into a smile. Your heart skips a beat at the tender sight of him spent and glowing beneath you. His shadows bleed into the cushions, baring him to you completely.

“Can I lie down?”

“Please,” he shifts to help you off of him.

You hiss as he slips out of you. “Sorry,” he mumbles, concerned.

“You’re good.”

“Are you okay?” His shadows rove over you, assessing for damage, and he winces at the mess between your thighs. You laugh at his concern, waving it off.

“I feel great. Just overstimulated,” you assure him as you curl into his pillows, your muscles grateful for the break. He nods and kisses your temple. The gesture is endearing, even as your thighs burn. You pull him down to rest next to you.

His eyes never leave yours, monitoring your movements and drinking in the image of you snuggled into his bed. You reach out to trace his features, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. It isn’t uncomfortable, you’re just so overloaded already; you aren’t sure you can handle its palpable energy. His skin is soft under your fingers, the fleshiness of his sharp face surprising you. Azriel hums under your soothing touch.

The unmistakable sentiment in his gaze has you melting into the comfort of his cushions, utterly relaxed. After all the uncertainty of the past few days, the surety of this moment is crisp, intoxicating. Nothing was guaranteed, of course, but you like your odds with him. You'd never been one to back down from a challenge.

“I thought you were going to ask me to leave,” you confess into the tender silence of the aftermath.

He frowns. “When?”

“Before,” you explain. “Right before you told me how you felt.”

He groans, regret clouding his features. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t made things easy for you. I definitely didn’t want you to leave.”

You shrug. You’re here now, what was passed is past. “You’re worth a little torture.”

“Why did you think that?” he asks, ignoring your lighthearted response. He avoids your eyes, fidgeting absently with the edge of the duvet.

“Well,” you begin, unsure of how honest to be. You opt for full truth, the words rushing out of you. “You didn’t fuck me! I was throwing eyes at you all night and things were going well–”

“Things were going well? Do you really think that?” he interrupts. “‘Cause Cass said I ‘grilled you on border security’.”

You snort at his air quotes.

“Well, yeah,” you frown, recalling the conversation, “but only after I asked you about how recovery efforts were going here, which is kind of a killjoy topic anyways.”

“We suck at this,” he decides brightly.

“Excuse you!” you leap to defend yourself. “I'm amazing at this– anyways! Totally not the point. You didn’t respond to my hints, so I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, and that you weren’t into me.”

Azriel shakes his head, and his rough fingers tenderly brush your hair away from your face.

“You were way off target, cause I’m totally into you. Remind me never to hire you for intelligence,” he teases, the words affectionate.

“In my defense, you are kind of hard to read,” you admit.

He hums, not denying it.

“Holy shit! See? I was just about to tell you off and you slithered out of it!” you look at him, equally impressed and incredulous at his evasive skills.

Now it's his turn to be unnerved, clearly caught out by your acute perception. You’re satisfied with yourself.

“Wow. Okay, I'll take it back, you’re hired,” he dodges. You don’t take the bait. His words make you think about his long career in intelligence. Suddenly, it makes perfect sense how he struggles with expressing himself verbally. He knew firsthand what the wrong words falling into the wrong ears could do. Pair that with whatever other… unique emotional baggage he has going on… shit. He’s probably actually very well adjusted, given everything he’s experienced.

Shit. She’s good , he thinks as you watch him silently. It was a classic technique, one he used often in interrogations.

He sighs. “Alright. So you may have picked up that I’m… guarded.”

“ No ,” you say with sarcasm.

“ Yes ," he laughs, before groaning and sitting up to look you in the eyes as he continues. “I’m sorry I wasn't upfront about how I felt. Like I said, I can't do casual. So I didn't know what I was doing. I was trying to protect myself from, well, doing what I did, and spilling my guts to you.”

“You were very brave to do that,” you tell him seriously.

He rolls his eyes.

“No, I mean it,” you press, suddenly sure of your recent revelation, desperate to assure him. “I’m glad you decided to trust me. I’m honored.”

You really are. Every glimpse you’ve gotten into his inner world has only deepened your affection for him. Strangely, you feel like you fit into his world, as new as it all is to you.

Occasionally in your work, you would come across a book from the archives, and it would be just what you needed for your project, even though you hadn’t known it had existed. What a thrill it always was, to find a gift in the world, unasked for and unplanned. The same sweet serendipity floods your senses now, as Azriel’s eyes shine with emotion.

“I might need you to be patient with me,” he whispers, like the words are too dangerous to handle in the open.

“Of course. Whatever you need,” you promise him.

With that, you press a kiss to his lips, thick with feeling.

His hand grips your jaw, holding you there to convey the depth of his adoration. He strokes your face fondly.

You pull him close, and he envelops you in his strong arms and soft wings. You lay there for a while, nestled in the security of his warmth.

“Bath?” he offers eventually.

You hum thoughtfully. “Honestly? I’m too tired to move.”

“I’ll carry you.”

A luxurious soak later, Azriel slips one of his shirts over your clean, drowsy form. Drained as you are, you keep yourself awake to watch him towel his hair dry from your place on his duvet.

You exhale abruptly, and his attention fixes on your drawn brows. You raise them as you finally ask the question you’ve been deliberating.

“I was just thinking… you have libraries here, right?” you search meaningfully.

“Yes, we do,” he answers casually, lips curling into the beginnings of a smile. “There’s one just down the hall, actually.”

“Huh?”

“Why do you ask?” Azriel continues coyly, coming to stand before you. “Are you thinking of settling down here, or something?”

“I said, huh ?” you repeat. Does he have a home library? Oh, you’re a goner.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

You shake your head in amusement. “You are so full of secrets,” you accuse.

“Full of surprises,” he corrects, rewarding you with a wide grin.

You wonder if you’d ever reach the last of them, you muse as the lovesick Illyrian moves to make good on his words. You imagine you never will, but it sounds like a nice fate to die trying.

After all, it seems like you’ll be needing a new hobby, now that you’ll have to give up recreational flirting. Azriel is happy to keep you occupied.

✸✸✸

Later, when the night was deep, the stars shining brightly with the soft promise of new beginnings, Azriel remembers a threat that he needs to make good on.

I’m gonna fucking kill you guys , Azriel projects to Rhys and Cassian. You’ll never see me coming. It will be long, and painful. NEVER mess with my plans – never again!

Well! Rhys' response arrives instantly, dripping with sarcasm. That sure was a delayed reaction… I hope you’ve had a productive evening.

Cassian’s reply is more direct. You’re welcome, brother dearest!

Despite his vexation with his brothers, Azriel smiles into the dark, content as he is to have you in his arms. He thinks dimly of your face under the flashing lights at Rita’s, how close he had come to losing his nerve to speak to you, how grateful he’d been to have an excuse to talk to you, and how foolish he’d felt when he left you alone on your doorstep after your last date.

His racing mind quiets as he traces your features, sleeping soundly in his bed. He has no intention of letting you go this time.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed!! I really fell in love with these two. It was so fun crafting their dynamic in part one, I had to expand the plot a little to allow their connection to develop more in this one. Sorry to make you read like 9k of plot and banter before the sexy part!

Here’s a little of my thought process behind this part 2: The more I thought about it, I just realized Azriel can’t do casual relationships.

In the books, it’s heavily implied that he pined after Mor for centuries, so like he’s a truly long-suffering loverboy. It would actually be so out of character for him to casually date. Even if he were to turn a new leaf and pursue someone, he's too guarded, too high profile to be comfortable with just a fling. If he’s in, he’s all in.

So I was like how do we break the ice? I imagined that Cass and Rhys could sense how invested he was in Reader, and that they knew he’d flounder in his attempts to approach it casually. Devotion and quiet intensity are just so key to Azriel’s personality. I wanted to explore what it would look like if he felt the green light from someone - personally I think it would unlock some of his private nature and allow him to safely express his feelings (which we see him try for the first time here!). Normally, I don't like it when fics have a love confession after one whole date, but in this case it just felt right.

Not to write a thesis and spend hours critically thinking so that my premises perfectly align to support my porn with plot LOL just girly things :)

#lmk what we think team #sorry the italics formatted weird #rip #14k omg yall are being fed frfr #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fic #azriel x you #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x reader #azriel smut #smut #my writing

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