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shinsocest · 4 months

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No. 003

♡ AKA: "Fated" ♡

Notes: another from my archive :) I originally wrote for a friend of mine. Also @boosyboo9206 I remembered while drafting that the Kuroo one had a lot of this au's context so we out here rawdogging the fics understanding lmao.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: fem reader, soulmate au, alpha/omega dynamics, shameless use of the Terushima scene, no protection, explicit consent (but for those who don't fully get abo its probably dubcon), Hajime type behavior but very soft imo. Just a very self indulgent alpha Iwaizumi fic.

Iwaizumi glowers at nothing as the bass thumps around him.

Well, not nothing. If he had to choose, he’s definitely glowering at Shittykawa, even though he can’t find the annoying bastard. Iwaizumi might be at a party but he isn’t really having the greatest time. He’s only there because Oikawa dragged him to scope out their rival frat’s party, the first of the new semester.

He wasn’t in the mood for any of it; Iwaizumi would have preferred to be at home studying and going to sleep early enough for a pre-workout before practice tomorrow. So everything is pissing him off. He can’t find Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki are too busy joyfully causing everyone to stare, the two alphas shamelessly making out on the couch, and this is the third fucking time they’ve played this song in the last half an hour. Who cares if it's popular?

Iwaizumi is stuck prowling the house looking for the brunet alpha so he can drag him out of here by the scruff of the neck. There’s hardly a difference between this party and any of the other’s that they’ve thrown themselves. Being here is fucking pointless.

As he’s rounding the corner, finally escaping the sitting room and its herbal smoke cloud, Iwaizumi gets a whiff of distress scent. As faint as it is, it's enough to make him turn around to search it out. It seems to be coming from a pretty omega, fingers wrapped too firmly around a plastic cup, cornered against the wall by a familiar blonde undercut. Iwaizumi can see the polite annoyance plastered across your face, the firm shake of your head as you deny whatever advances Terushima seems to be making. As assertive as you appear, Iwaizumi can smell your anxiety, the sour ripple of your scent burning faintly in his nose and blocking out something sweeter that lingers beneath it all. The rival fraternity president doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.

Iwaizumi growls under his breath. He’s not in the mood for this. Even on a good day he can’t ignore this stereotypical alpha behavior, but today has not been a good day.

There’s no hesitation as he changes direction towards the pair. He can feel the red creep into his vision as Terushima wraps a hand around your wrist, trying to entice you closer to the pounding music where people are dancing, not letting go even when you dig your heels in to remain rooted in place.

He gets close enough for his voice to be heard and throws his scent out. The potent, pissed scent of a territorial alpha. Conversation dies in the throats of everyone nearby as they catch wind of it. Terushima’s shoulders stiffen at the strength of it and he turns, in the same moment as Iwaizumi speaks, gruff and deep,

“Baby, who’s this guy? He bothering you?”

He hopes you get it.

Both of you snap their heads to him, Terushima’s smile dropping immediately while your eyes widen in relief. Iwaizumi relaxes as you take the bait, quickly scooting around Terushima to snake your arm around his. Some people look on curiously, but most skitter off and mind their business.

Good, it’s not a fucking show, Iwaizumi growls internally.

“What took you so long,” you pout at him and Iwaizumi almost grins at how easily you slip into the role—but then he remembers how often this crap must happen for this to be necessary and the upturn of his lip disappears. He levels a heavy stare at the other alpha as he responds.

“The guys held me up, I came as soon as I could.”

“Thought you said you came alone?” Terushima throws out casually.

Your fingers tighten around his forearm, “I didn’t say I wasn’t meeting anyone. You didn’t seem too interested in listening to what I had to say.”

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows at that, glad you were brave enough to put the other alpha in his place. The pain in Terushima’s uneasy smile as he forces a laugh soothes some of the anger simmering in Iwaizumi’s veins, and his shoulders relax as Terushima makes some half-assed excuse about checking to make sure the kitchen was stocked.

Once the blonde disappears, Iwaizumi turns to you, gently slipping his arm out of yours. He eyes you with concern.

“You okay?” You’re shaking slightly. Eyes wide, slightly wet, and a little unfocused. His concern grows immensely, glancing at your drink. “Did he give you that? Do I need to take you somewhere?”

Those words seem to shake you out of it. “No,” your voice is low, the tremor to it barely audible over the music. “I got this for myself, and I kept it away from him. I’m just—he made me nervous is all. Thank you for stepping in when you did.”

Your trembling hasn’t stopped, even though your voice grows stronger as you speak, that anxious scent of yours spiking through your scent blockers. He can see the little patch now that he is closer, and realizes how scared you must still be if it’s getting through.

“He was being a dick. Anyone would’ve done it,” Iwaizumi mutters, ducking his head as his cheeks warm visibly. The way you eye around the room nervously unconsciously brings more words to his lips. “Were you meeting anyone? I could help you find them.”

Slowly, you shake your head, worrying your lower lip. “My friends cancelled last minute. I wasn’t even planning to come tonight and honestly... I’d rather be home. I just don’t wanna risk running into him again.” You lower your head, looking embarrassed.

Iwaizumi can’t think of a single reason why you should be.

Again, he speaks before he thinks.

“I could walk you home if you want.”

“Really?” Your head pops up, mouth dropping open a little in surprise.

“I mean, I was leaving soon anyway. I didn’t want to come tonight either,” Iwaizumi admits. “I could call you a ride if that’s more comfortable. It’s not like you know—” His mouth snaps shut awkwardly. He hasn’t even introduced himself yet. “—Sorry. I’m Iwaizumi.”

You warm at the abashed expression on the handsome alpha’s face, your heart fluttering slightly.

His heart rate picks up in return as you give him your name.

“I don’t mind if you walk me home,” you say shyly. “It’s not far, if you still want to.”

Iwaizumi pulls out his phone and shoots identical messages to each of his friends explaining where he was going and telling them not to stay out too late. He didn’t want to wake up to them stumbling into their shared house drunk and waking him up.

The walk is short, but not awkward. It’s filled with easy chatter, simple questions and revelations that always seem to come up when you meet someone new. You’re easy to talk to, and Iwaizumi is oddly disappointed when you stop and gesture to the apartment complex next to you.

“This is me.”

Iwaizumi blinks. He… doesn’t want to leave. He can’t explain the feeling, this insistent pull towards you, but it would be incredibly inappropriate for him to ask for more of your time this late. Dipping his head, he murmurs a goodbye and starts to turn, but he feels a small hand gripping the waist of his shirt.

He turns in surprise to see you've frozen. You look more than a little lost, as if you aren't sure what came over you. He waits for you to speak.

“C-can I have your number? It was nice meeting you, and I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay?” By the time the words are done tumbling from your lips, your voice has risen to an uncertain squeak.

A little shocked by the turn of events, but gratified nonetheless, the brunet alpha offers you his number, trying to keep his grip on the goofy, pleased smile that he can feel trying to form on his lips.

“You can call me any time.”

For the first time tonight, his eyes slide down to your outfit, only just beginning to appreciate the way the fabric of your skirt shows off your legs, resting tastefully at mid-thigh. Not a skirt, Iwaizumi realizes, but a cinched dress, hugging each line and curve of your body, modestly covered by a half-jacket. The warm scent of chocolate wafts under his nose and he gets a little lost in studying you, something burning hot within him as he imagines what it would be like to peel the fabric from your body, how warm your skin would be against his own.

Iwaizumi blinks.

It takes a moment to realize how close you’ve gotten. Then Iwaizumi feels the heat radiating off your skin, and his eyes flick to your own, staring at him just as intently. He clears his throat softly and steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets. He mutters a quiet goodnight and starts heading home, and nothing short of stupid alpha pride bursts in his chest when he turns his head to see that your eyes are following him. He hopes you don’t wait too long to call.

The house is quiet when Iwaizumi finally makes it back. There’s already a text on his phone from a new number, and he smiles as he sends a quick message in return. It’s only through the sheer force of will that he manages to fall asleep that night, closing his eyes firmly and ignoring the sudden urge to dig through the cabinets for something sweet.

Iwaizumi wakes up sweating. At first, he believes that the air conditioning has been turned off, but when he stumbles into the hallway, he finds it running at a cool twenty-three. He’s nearly vibrating in his skin, wondering what woke him. The digital clock on his nightstand reads 3:17. He fell asleep almost four hours ago, so there’s no reason he should be awake. A sweet scent wafts around him, faint but nonetheless catching Iwaizumi’s full attention. He mindlessly prowls towards his hamper and his fingers close around the tank top he discarded tonight. The warm scent of chocolate assaults him and his knees buckle.

A growl tears at his throat.

He’s growled before and often, a bad alpha trait that his parents did their best to train him out of, with general success when you think about who he had to grow up with. Lord knows he’s had every reason to, between Shittykawa and the meme team duo as friends. But this is different. The faint sweet scent brings with it a feeling beyond fathoming, and an itch, a drive that up until now he’s only heard stories about. It’s powerful, a true force of nature, a howling urge inside him to run to the one fate has decided is his. There’s no doubt in his mind who sparked this feeling as he presses the fabric of his discarded shirt to his nose, inhaling deeply. The scent is already fading and that brings a rush of panic to his system. He needs you.

In his haste to locate his phone, Iwaizumi slams his shin against the corner of his dresser, cursing at the immediate pain that blossoms up the limb as he finds your contact and calls. He’d bet his soul that you’re awake, the primitive energy buzzing beneath his skin too transcendent for him to be feeling it alone.

It feels like an eternity as he stands there, breath caught in his throat. You answer on the fourth ring.

“Iwaizumi.”

“Are you okay?” He spares no pretense; from the single word alone, Iwaizumi knows. Your voice is hoarse, and not just because it's the middle of the night. There’s raw need scratching at your throat, a desperation that his body mirrored the moment he heard your voice.

“I… what is this? Please, it’s so hot.”

Iwaizumi is already throwing clothes on, the phone pinned between his chin and shoulder as he shoves his leg through into a pair of sweats. “You know what this is. I’m—” on my way. He freezes for a moment. Do you even want him to come? Soulmate or no, you have no idea who he is. You… might not want him. “—Do you want me there?”

“Iwaizumi…” Your breath is heavy and panting through the receiver, and then there’s a soft gasp, followed by the faintest moan. When he thinks about why you might be making those sounds... Iwaizumi thinks his blood might be on fire.

“Do. You. Want. Me. There?” He can’t help but bite the words out, can’t help but demand an answer. He has to know now before he loses to the animalistic urges inside him. If you tell him no, a small part of him might go deranged, but he’d do whatever it took. Rut or no rut, he’d have Shittykawa strap him to the bed before he did anything against your wishes.

“Please. Please come.” Fuck. The sound of your voice, so small, pleading. Frantic. “Iwaizumi, I need you.”

“Hajime.” Now Iwaizumi’s voice is hoarse. “You can call me Hajime.”

“Alpha—” There’s a broken moan, followed by a frustrated wail.

Iwaizumi inhales sharply. “Did you just—?

“Please hurry. ‘S hot, hurts without you. Feels wrong.”

He’s already out the door. It’s not until the dawn air raises goosebumps across his skin that Iwaizumi realizes he didn’t even grab a shirt.

“Hajime?”

“I’m still here. I won’t hang up. Just… Pretend it’s me, I’m already on my way.”

“Trying, ‘m trying. God it’s not—” Your voice is driving Iwaizumi insane. Labored, pained. He should be there and you shouldn’t sound like this. He should be holding you, inside you, until there’s nothing left to feel but—

Fuck. Fuck.

Iwaizumi inhales slowly, trying to calm his racing thoughts as he reaches the end of the street. “How many fingers?”

“W-what?”

His voice lowers to deep rumble, “How many fingers are fucking your pussy right now, omega?”

Your answering whine tells him that he has your attention now. “Ahn, t-two.”

"Good girl, add another. Reach as deep as you can and don't stop touching your clit. I wouldn’t do that." Iwaizumi's breath is coming heavy as he just about tears across campus, glad it's still early enough that no one is walking the grounds yet to hear him spewing such filth.

"It's—It's not enough—" Your broken mewling is so miserable that it stops him in his tracks, trying to keep his voice steady so he can console you.

"I know, I know baby, I'm so sorry." The pet name slips from his tongue without really thinking, his feet already carrying him forward again. "I'm coming as fast as I can. I'll be there soon, it'll be okay."

"Hur—ahn—H-hurry."

Fucking hell. Iwaizumi feels the threads of guilt that such a pathetic sound sends a blazing heat down his spine, centering on his groin. He can't help it; hiccuping sobs and moans, paired with the mental image of you desperately thrusting your fingers into your cunt, trying to make up for the weight of the knot you can't provide for yourself—Iwaizumi's canines ache. He doesn't hang up the phone, continuing to talk to you over your sounds of distress as he approaches your apartment complex.

Then he’s inside, hesitating in the doorway of the lobby, and you stutter out your apartment number. Third floor. Desperation prickles within him now that he’s so close so Iwaizumi doesn’t wait for the elevator, bounding up the stairwell, two steps at a time.

He can already smell you, your scent is coating almost the whole floor. He reaches for the handle of your door and growls under his breath. The door is locked, barring him from you.

“Baby girl,” Iwaizumi strains, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “You gotta open the door.”

There’s a small thump on the other end of the line and he calls your name again. You’re slurring into the receiver, nearly sobbing, a loud tremor in your weak voice.

“I can’t. My legs are shaking, alpha please—Hajime.”

Damn it. Iwaizumi inhales then puffs out a breath of air, trying to psyche himself up. His mate needs him. “Fuck, okay. Okay. Listen, I will fix and pay for everything, promise.”

“Fix…? Hajime, what are you—”

Iwaizumi feels bad but he hangs up, slinging his phone into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he pulls one leg back and aims a heavy kick on the door, close to the doorknob. The wood crunches, the latch protesting under the assault, but the door doesn’t open. Praying to the gods that the neighbors are heavy sleepers, Iwaizumi does it again, and again, and again, until the door crashes open, the metal doorknob broken and dangling from the splintered doorway.

Wincing apologetically at the obvious damage, Iwaizumi pushes inside and attempts to close the door, before giving up and dragging the small table in the entry to keep it from swinging open again. Your scent is so much stronger inside, layered upon itself from months of domesticity. The alpha in him purrs when he finds that it's your scent alone in the space. The thick cloud of arousal and distress leads him straight to your bedroom like he’s hooked by an iron tether.

His plan on the way here was to help you, to comfort you and hold you, to give you what pleasure he could without actually fucking you—just to be what you needed until your heat was over. He wanted to keep the alpha in him under lock and key. He knows heats can make omegas forget the real world, how desperate a heat can make them. Even if he’s destined to be your mate, he wanted to be sure you didn’t feel forced, by him or nature. But the sight that awaits him causes his mind to go entirely blank.

“Please, nngh—Alpha, I—I need you. I can’t anymore, hurts so bad please.”

You’d tried to leave the bed when he called to be let in, tumbled to your bedroom floor tangled between blankets and soft-looking sweaters in what looks like an attempt at nesting. There’s a throw blanket curled around your waist, a comforter under your head, but your lower half is in plain view, braced on your knees and bared to him. His imagination on the way over couldn’t compare but you’re just as he imagined you, fingers thrusting frantically in your soaked cunt, whimpering into the blankets around you. As soon as he enters the room, your trembling intensifies as your tear-soaked gaze locks onto his hungry stare. A desperate keen bubbles in your throat as your thighs tense and shake, and in response his low growl rolls like gentle thunder throughout the room as he watches more slick gush down your thighs.

“Little omega,” he rumbles, striding deeper into the room and kneeling beside you. “Did you just cum for your alpha?” There’s no more hesitation. It’s as if the missing piece of his life has clicked into place. His mate is right in front of him, her body calling out to him for the relief and comfort that only he can give. And he is going to give it to you.

You nod up at him, relaxing immediately as his dominating scent covers you more effectively than any blanket. The cinnamon and fire scent breathes strength and reassurance, promising to take care of you. You purr thickly as his hands smooth over your thighs, thumbs pulling your sticky folds apart. His lips are soft as he places a kiss on your hip, his breath hot, the faintest graze of his canines against your skin drawing an almost violent shudder from your body in response. If you were desperate before, you’re not sure there is even a word for what you feel now.

An all-consuming fire blazes beneath your skin that cries for him to be burned away with you. You arch impossibly deeper, instincts demanding you present yourself to him. “All for you, alpha,” you moan. ‘’M all yours, please take me. Can’t wait anymore.”

Your squeal rings in his ears as he scoops you off the floor and bundles you back into the bed, muscles flexing as he settles between your thighs. One hand curls around your neck to pull you closer as he kisses you possessively. It’s all teeth and tongue, fire and passion, spelling out his wavering restraint and burning hunger for you. You can feel his cock against your folds already, his sweats pulled low around his hips in his haste, grinding against you. The heat and impressive weight of it draws a needy whimper from deep in your throat, legs closing tight around his muscular hips to get even closer.

He nips your lower lip sharply, immediately soothing it with his tongue. Iwaizumi is panting as heavily as you, a thin ring of olive green nearly swallowed by black as his eyes gleam down on you.

“Last chance,” he rasps, his fingers fisting the sheets next to your head as your slick heat against his aching length slices at the threads of his sanity. His jaw brushes against your cheek, unconsciously seeking comfort, and then his lips press to your throat just once, the ache in his canines spiking at the proximity to your mating gland. His voice breaks under the intensity of this feeling. “I won’t—be able to stop once I… So tell me now.” Even if he stops now, Iwaizumi knows he’ll never be the same man he was before. His world has narrowed down to this room, to the beautiful omega in his arms. His omega, his mate. He trembles, breathlessly waiting for your answer, your permission.

“Hajime,” you sigh against his lips, soft like a prayer, before tugging his lower lip between your teeth sharply. Iwaizumi groans at the feeling, rutting against you as he takes in the carnal desire and beatific acceptance glowing like embers in your eyes. You don’t speak again but Hajime understands. There aren’t enough words in the world to convey this desire.

His eyes darken and he lets go.

Your back arches wildly, nails tearing sharp lines down his back as he shifts his hips and sheathes himself in your cunt. If they weren’t awake before, your neighbors most surely are now, your pleasured howl echoing in the air of your bedroom as your plush walls part to welcome all of him.

He can’t think, fuck, he can’t think. It has never felt like this. You’re so hot, squeezing him so tightly, and for a barest of moments, despite your mewling, Iwaizumi fears you’re in pain. But then your hands tangle in his hair, dragging his face down to yours. Your omega body was meant for this, meant to take your alpha just as he is meant to please you.

One syllable splits your shared breath, caressing his lips, and he can’t hold on any longer.

“Move,” you beg breathlessly.

Iwaizumi groans and draws his hips back to snap them into you again, surging forward and capturing your lips into a blistering kiss. He swallows your every moan as one calloused hand slides down to grope at the thigh curled around his waist. His balls are heavy, slapping against your ass with every thrust, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit. You’re clenching and fluttering around him, forcing low growls from his chest at the feeling. Your body is begging for him just as loudly as you are.

“Hah, ah, ahn, alpha!” Your head tosses back as one of his thrusts has his cock pressing deep, nearly bottoming out inside you. “So full—Hajime—feels so good.” The last syllable breaks as you keen, lips falling open as your pussy clamps down hard.

“Fuck—” Iwaizumi hisses as he feels his knot beginning to swell, and he can tell you feel it as well, your nails digging into his back again. He barely feels the sting; if anything, it adds to the primal fire burning between you. “You going to cum for me, pretty omega? You want my knot? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes! Want you, want you! Please!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t miss the way your glazed eyes hold his, how you intentionally bare your throat to him.

You’re asking him to… oh, fuck. He can’t. He can’t. But the thought of claiming you, digging his teeth into your mating gland and finalizing his claim has the animal within him howling to comply with your demand. The coil in his gut winds tight and his hips jerk out of rhythm as his orgasm looms.

Claim.

Iwaizumi whines as his orgasm sears through his body, his knot forcing past your entrance and swelling just a bit more, locking you together. His teeth bury down, and he can feel your walls constrict as he pumps you full of cum, hear you wail as your slick gushes around his length, following into carnal bliss.

He feels as if he’s floating, chest heaving as he blearily comes down from his orgasm. The scent of your distress jolts his senses, and he quickly removes his teeth from your pillow. He’d barely stopped himself.

“Alpha,” you sob, writhing beneath him. “Why?”

“Baby, baby girl,” Iwaizumi hushes softly, wincing as your movements tug down below. His knot hasn’t gone down enough to separate yet. Tears streak your face, and his heart almost snaps at the anguish dulling your eyes. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Of course I do.” This is what he was afraid would happen when he refused to bite. Heats heavily fuck with hormones, with emotions. Pleasure made you ride high, only to come down feeling crushed and rejected by his refusal. His provisional instincts are lighting up, giving him much needed clarity as you continue to whimper and sniffle below him, no longer meeting his eyes.

“Am I not good enough?”

Damn it.

“Omega.”

You stiffen at the title, a fresh whimper catching in your throat at his sudden commanding aura. His pheromones wash over you, coaxing you to relax. More tears well in your eyes as he cradles your chin, turning your head so you look him in the eye. You try to blink them away.

“You are perfect, and I will never want another the way I want you,” Iwaizumi murmurs, voice still a little ragged. “But I don’t want to start this between us and have it turn out to be something you weren’t ready for. Heats heighten everything, ruts too. We can’t be sure this is what you want. Bite or no bite, I am your mate. I’m not going anywhere, and I won’t leave unless you ask me to. After we get to know each other, and we’re both sober—” This gets a watery giggle from you, and the sound melts Iwaizumi’s heart. He purrs gently, “and you want it, then I will make you mine.”

Your body sags beneath him, relaxing fully under his weight. A low moan spills from your lips, a deep grunt from his own as his knot softens, enough to allow him to pull his still hard cock from your dripping cunt. He grabs your hips and flips onto his back, settling you over him. Iwaizumi winces and hisses softly as the scratches on his back burn a little upon making contact with the sheets, but he ignores it in favor of meeting your eyes steadily. There are very few lucid moments in the middle of a heat, and he wants to enjoy them as much as possible.

“Did you really break down my door?” You ask curiously, tilting your head.

A startled huff of a laugh shakes Iwaizumi’s body, his cheeks burning in shame. “Sorry, heat of the moment. I’ll fix it as soon as I can.”

“It can wait,” you purr, shifting your hips over his erection.

Oh. His eyes darken, cock twitching at your sultry tone. Electricity sparks up his spine as Iwaizumi practically watches the lust drip back into your expression.

"Everything can wait."

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #yuli writes

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angelanimedesaray · 4 years

Text

Wings in the Dark Chapter 9: Thorns on the Rose

AN: It took me forever to come up with this title lol And I can’t begin to explain how much I adored all the feedback...and how tempted I was just to let you all squirm for a few days just for the heck of it XD

ik, ik, I’m evil, what’s new (She says, sipping from the mug that says Tears of My Readers. No really, I own a mug that says that. It’s my favorite).

I swear the delay isn’t because I wanted to make you squirm, though, I really had some troubles near the end and had to work through them PLUS decide to chop of my initial plans for half this chapter and shove them into the next chapter because this one was already so damn long XD

Characters: Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader, Erwin

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Language, Allusions to Trauma, Antagonization, Mentions of: Death, Violence, Near Death, Blood, Murder.

Word Count: 9183

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Levi’s POV*

When Levi came to, he felt lethargic and disoriented. His head was pounding, limbs heavy, and he even found breathing to be tiresome and difficult. Something that would have normally been alarming, if he could think straight.

What day was it? Was it night or day? Where was he? Why did he feel like there was somewhere he needed to be, something he needed to do?

He attempted to move his arms to start to sit up, opening his eyes briefly before immediately closing them as the world spun around him, the bright light painful on his eyes. A groan rumbled in his chest but didn't make it past his lips as he slowly started to sit up, using the soft surface below him as a sense of stability and direction while the world was spinning around him. As he sat up, something sheer and soft slid off his bare skin, scratching against something that was covering his lower torso.

Levi opened his eyes more cautiously this time, squinting against the light that came in through the window as his vision slowly came into focus on the familiar room around him.

His room. His bedroom.

What the hell was he doing in bed? He never slept in his own bed--it was there for decoration more than anything else. If he'd fallen asleep it would have been in just own chair.

And why was everything in his head such a confused mess? He shouldn't be this disoriented right now, why couldn't he remember...remember…

Levi lifted a heavy hand to his head, fingers digging into his hair as he tried to remember how he got here, what had happened before he'd fallen asleep?

Wait, there were...bandages on his head? Had he been knocked out by something? Some freak accident?

Right, he hadn't fallen asleep...he'd fallen unconscious because…

Levi looked down, finally noticing the bandages wrapped around his middle as well, covering his abdomen with a few strips wrapped over his shoulder to keep them in place. His hand lowered carefully to his middle, hand pressing tenderly for a wound, for some reason expecting to see blood gushing everywhere or to at least start seeping through the bandages.

The skin underneath was tender, sensitive to the touch and admittedly painful now that he was aware of it, like one large bruise or burn. Except, he knew that wasn't what was underneath the wrapping.

He remembered...blood. Lots of it, seeping out of a hole in his stomach, a hole ripped through him by the broken debris of a warehouse. He'd been losing blood so fast, staining his shirt, his skin, his hands, the floor...he'd known the moment he realized he'd been impaled he was going to die.

So why wasn't he dead?

Why had he gone to the warehouse in the first place?

The door to his room--the office portion--opened without anyone knocking, and Levi looked up in surprise. Considering the lack of an inquiry, he assumed it was Erwin coming inside. They cut right through his office without hesitation, heading right towards his bedroom door to reveal--

His stomach lurched, panic started to try and rear its head from his chest.

Red eyes, burning skin, a necklace, arms that threw him through walls and into the wood that impaled and should have killed him, an arm pressed against his lips, forcing blood into his mouth and holding fast to keep him from spitting it out though he still tried, in vain, to do just that, hands over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air until his body grew so desperate for oxygen it swallowed the blood in his mouth on a reflex.

Hands pressed against his fatal wound to try and stop the bleeding, arms that pulled him free from the wood he'd been impaled upon, a voice that tried desperately to keep him awake even when he lacked the strength to stay conscious any longer.

Even with some of the answers she was still a damn enigma.

L/N walked through his bedroom door as if it was perfectly normal for her to be here, a tray with teacups and freshly brewed tea on one hand while the other was opening and closing doors. She was completely unharmed--no burned skin, no line on her neck where his blade had drawn blood, no fucking gash across his chest where he'd cut her open trying to get her to stay away from him. Her eyes were back to their normal color, not a hint of red in them or on the clothes she'd clearly changed.

How long had he been unconscious?

No, that was a secondary question, he had more important things to worry about right now. Like how casually she'd just walked into his room, the fact that she was in his room, when he knew what she was.

The sheets that had covered him were thrown aside as she entered the room, the world tipping dangerously as he tried to swing his feet out of bed and get to his feet, tried to get to a position he could fight back. L/N moved in a blur, not even trying to hide her nature anymore as she sat the tray of tea down on the closest surface and practically appeared in front of him.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, yet, you're still not--"

Ignoring what she was saying, Levi reached out and grabbed a fistful of the front of her shirt. With far more effort than he would ever admit, he pushed her backwards, his own steps staggering and unsteady as he followed her, pushing her up against the wall, eyes glaring murderously at her and effectively silencing whatever else she was about to say.

They stood there for several moments, Levi's heavy breathing filling the room, L/N's hands up at her sides with palms out, meeting his gaze and appearing infuriatingly unsurprised by his reaction.

He wanted to just kill her here and now. Fuck, he shouldn't have hesitated back in that warehouse, things wouldn't have ended in his…

He wasn't dead. He was certain he wasn't dead. He hadn't died...had he? He should have. He'd been at the brink of dying the last he remembered. She'd been yelling at him not to die because her blood...her blood needed more time to heal him.

Levi's grip on her shirt tightened, fabric straining and threatening to rip.

He should have fucking killed her when it was simply man verses monster, because now she'd saved his life, and he didn't know what to do.

He had to accept that this situation was a lot more...complicated then he'd originally thought, and that he didn't understand what was happening. And if he didn't understand the situation, he couldn't approach it properly.

"I don't trust you," he growled out in a low voice. Again, she was unsurprised. It was probably one of the only stable facts between them right now.

"But…" his fingers flexed, adjusting the grip he had on her. "I will listen one time, and this time you'll answer our questions."

"Our?"

"Erwin will be there. Whatever I know, he'll know, and I don't want to be repeating shit." Levi centered his gaze on her again, expression dark and hard. "One time, and then we'll decide what to do with you."

Levi waited until she gave a slow nod to show she understood before he released her, hearing a little slide against the wall that told him he'd lifted her slightly--he hadn't even been aware. Turning away, Levi attempted to get back to the bed before his strength left him, but his knees buckled and he started to collapse before he even made it halfway there.

L/N caught him before he could hit the floor.

"Your interrogation will have to wait. You still haven't recovered enough to really get out of bed," she told him, helping him get to the bed before he pushed her off to let him do the rest by himself.

She backed off and let him struggle to get back into the bed, going back over to the tray of tea she'd brought in the first place to start pouring the cups as she spoke. "You've been out for a couple days. People have been asking questions, which I haven't answered. I've just been saying it's your business and leaving it at that. You can probably expect a visit from Commander Erwin any day now--you can tell him whatever you want, then."

"What did you do to me?" Levi cut in, fists planted in the bed as he tried to make sense of what had happened, how despite all odds he was sitting in this bed with some creature of the shadows attempting to have casual conversation with him as if he hadn't tried to kill her, as if she hadn't almost killed him and hadn't killed so many others before him.

She looked at him in silence for a brief moment, as if sizing him up before she approached with a cup of tea in hand.

"My blood can heal most injuries, if there's enough time. It's gross, and it's risky, but it was your only chance given the situation. But it was also cutting it close." She held out the cup of tea, and Levi eyed it distrustfully. A bit of annoyance crept through her voice, and she held it a little closer to him without spilling it everywhere. "No it's not your usual black tea--it's an herbal blend that should help your recovery, so I suggest you drink it anyway."

When he still seemed reluctant, she grabbed his hand and placed the cup in it to make him hold it. "I'm not going to have gone to all this trouble to save your life just to poison you with tea at least half a dozen people saw me making or on my way here with."

Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything right now after hearing that. She’d made him drink her blood. The thought alone made him nauseous as he stared down at the tea whose fragrances were doing nothing to help settle his nausea.

L/N sat down next to him instead of retreating to a chair in the room or leaning against the wall, making Levi stiffen and shift away, glaring at her and about to tell her to get the hell away from him. She reached out with a hand to grasp his chin, which made Levi glare daggers at her and pull out of her grip, his free hand knocking her hand out of the way.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he seethed, on the brink of trying to clock her in the jaw if she didn’t get out and leave him alone.

“Checking something. Believe me, this is a quick exam you want me to make. I said there were risks for healing you the way I did, didn’t I?” she said seriously, her gaze sharp and analyzing as they swept across his features. The way she said it made him even more nauseous, the bad feeling settling deep into his gut.

She kept her hands off this time, though it also meant she got closer, staring intently into his eyes before she started asking questions.

“How’s the light? It’s not too much, causing any discomfort or headaches?” she asked, and it was at that point Levi realized the lighting in the room was all natural sunlight.

“No. A bit at first, not now,” he said shortly.

“Does your jaw hurt? Feel like there’s a stabbing pain, like a tooth trying to break through?”

“What? No.”

Levi leaned away from her, unsettled by the questions he was being asked as well as her close proximity. Surprisingly, she got to her feet with a small nod, closing her eyes and letting out a relieved little sigh. “Good. I just wanted to make sure.”

Levi’s gaze tracked her as she went back to the tea tray, trepidation bubbling up in his gut. “What were the risks?” Levi asked in a deceptively steady tone.

She hesitated in answering him, which was alarming in and of itself, but she ended up choosing not to try and hide it from him.

“If you’d died with my blood in your system, you would have turned into what I am.”

Levi felt numb, except for the painful pounding in his chest and the ring in his ears at her words, his breaths cutting against his lungs. She turned to face him, looking worried, but Levi spoke before she could say anything else.

“Get out.”

The words were heavy and harsh against the silence of the room, and she took another step forward with hesitation, her concern momentarily outweighing her caution.

“Get the fuck out,” he spat venomously, glaring at her to drive the point home. She withdrew into that shell of hers instantly, gathering up the few things she’d brought with her, but pausing with her hand on the doorknob, the wooden door partially closed behind her but still open enough to show her back. He couldn’t see her face, he could just see her hair, the back of her clothes, the corner of the tray.

“I really am glad that you’re alright, Captain. And relieved that you’re still human. I suppose I’ll see you soon after you recover.”

She left before he could throw any other scathing remarks her way, leaving him behind in the silence of his room as the reality of what happened in that warehouse started to press in on and crush him until it felt like the solid ground beneath his feet had disappeared and he couldn’t breathe.

Two days later, after Levi filled in a dubious Erwin on the reality of what Y/N L/N was hiding, it was quickly established that a proper interrogation was long overdue, especially since she was willing to cooperate and openly answer questions now. They just needed to wait until Levi recovered enough he could move around without drawing attention to his injuries. He’d already been a fast healer, but with L/N’s...help...he recovered in record time. Erwin didn’t say anything, but Levi suspected Erwin wondered if Levi had ever actually been hurt, considering he’d never even seen a wound from him.

Erwin hadn’t seen what Levi had seen, he didn’t have the visual proof, just Levi’s word. Even trusting Levi’s word wasn’t enough for this. They were going to have to do something to show him the validity of Levi’s claims.

Still, Erwin trusted him enough to arrange for the secret interrogation, one that was going to be done in the dungeons, with L/N handcuffed behind bars in a cell while Levi and Erwin stayed on the other side. Levi wasn’t sure how much good a few pieces of iron were going to be in holding her back, but it was the best they could do.

Well, that and something else that Levi expected massive resistance over.

True to her cooperation so far, L/N agreed on the secret meeting in the basement, the three of them rendezvousing in the dungeons in the middle of the day while most of the Scouts were out busy fulfilling duties or enjoying time off with their family or friends. Erwin had glanced between the two at the palpable, hostile tension coming from Levi and the attempt at indifference L/N seemed to be trying to exude in return to Levi’s hostility.

Erwin had already tried to suggest he do most of the talking, but Levi had turned him down flat. Normally, yes, he let Erwin take the lead for these kinds of things--but this had started to cross over into personal a while ago, and he had questions of his own he was going to have answered.

“Pardon the precaution, but if you don’t mind,” Erwin said politely, putting the cuffs on her before stepping aside and holding an arm out towards the cell that was currently open and waiting, a chair already situated on the other side of the bars for her to use.

Levi could have sworn he saw a flash of amusement in her eyes, which confirmed his theory the bars and cuffs did nothing but give an illusion of safety. Still, she went inside without a comment, picking up the chair and bringing it over to the wall, setting it with its back to the wall so she was facing the opposite stone wall instead of facing them directly on the other side of the bars. While she was adjusting her chair and taking her seat, Erwin shut and locked the door, taking up the seat facing the cell while Levi moved over to the bars, leering inside at her.

“We’ll be taking that necklace, too. So you don’t make a break for it in the meantime,” he added. As expected, she cast him a sharp look, the reluctance clear on her face. “Unless, of course, you were lying about being so cooperative.”

She cast him a dirty look at the clear attempt to back her into a corner where she would have to hand it over as a show of good faith, but to his mild surprise, she reached up and carefully undid the necklace she’d nearly killed him trying to get back in the warehouse, coming over to stand in front of him at the bars of the cell and holding it out for him to take. When his fingers closed around the medallion and he attempted to take it, her grip tightened instead of released, causing his gaze to narrow slightly at her as the silver chain went taut, and there was a brief spark in the tension between them both.

“I want that back,” she said seriously, holding his gaze for a few seconds more before she released it, the chain falling loosely against his knuckles with the ends left dangling past his closed fist.

“Depends on what we decide after you spin your tale,” Levi returned with a hint of a bite in his tone. Erwin sighed softly behind him at the antagonizing air between the two, but Levi ignored him, moving over to take up a spot leaning against the wall behind Erwin, finally able to get a good look at this special necklace for the first time. The chain and the border of the medallion were both silver, with strange engravings along the back of the silver medallion piece in symbols he didn’t recognize. The medallion, however, was simply a well-polished black fire opal. Besides that, there didn’t seem to be anything strange, magical, or supernatural about it. It just seemed like a fancy necklace.

“What’s so important about this necklace, anyway? I get it lets you go in the sun, but the way you reacted? There’s more to it than that,” Levi asked, gaze flickering back up to where L/N had retaken her seat in the cell as he tucked the necklace away into a different pocket than he had in the warehouse, just to keep her guessing in case things went south again.

“I’m going to lead this interrogation, Levi, remember?” Erwin reprimanded him steadily. Levi was unfazed.

“It’s as good a place to start as anything,” Levi said indifferently, eyes still fixated on L/N.

“Then you clearly didn’t think too long on the fact that it lets me walk in the sun,” she said with a sigh, turning her head to meet Levi’s gaze unflinchingly. “You could say that necklace is the physical manifestation of my freedom. Without it, I can’t go out in the daylight, yes. I can’t feel the sun. Can’t move around in the day and be part of society. Can’t live on the surface. Without it I’d be kicked back down into the Underground to try scraping by day after day with no way out, for an eternity. So yes, I reacted a little strongly when it was taken from me.”

Oh, she wasn’t holding back her verbal punches after that clear dig at him and his past. This was going to be an interesting interrogation, then. Levi also planned on putting her through the verbal wringer when it was his turn to field the questions to make sure she wasn’t hiding even a shred of dark intentions or ulterior motives. And poor Erwin was going to be smack in the middle of it.

“Let’s take a few steps back, so that everyone’s on the same page,” Erwin said in a voice that spoke volumes for the more mediatory role he was slowly getting pushed into. “Captain Levi’s seen all the evidence he needs to believe this shadow monster theory, but I’m finding it harder to believe without seeing anything to prove it, myself.”

“Vampire.”

“Sorry?”

“Vampire. Not shadow monster. There’s an actual name for what I am, even if the people within the walls seem to have forgotten it for some reason. I’m what’s called a vampire.”

“Vampire, then,” Erwin said patiently. “The problem still remains, though, that I find it hard to believe.”

“It is rather hard to believe, isn’t it?” she said, getting to her feet to look around the room idly, contemplating how she wanted to prove she was what she said she was--a vampire, apparently. She eventually picked up a fairly sizable piece of rock and snapped it in half with a display of strength that further solidified Levi’s thought that those bars and handcuffs did nothing to hold her back. Putting the sharp edge against the inside of her palm, she cut her hand open, angling it in Erwin’s direction so he could watch as the wound healed rapidly in front of them until all that was left was a bit of blood in her palm, not even a faint scar line. And no steam, like when a Titan regenerated. “Is that enough, for the time being? The only other things I can think of to prove I am what I say I am would only make me look a helluva lot more threatening and far less cooperative.”

Erwin had that familiar stoic mask in place as he processed the reality of what Levi had told him with that little display of tangible proof. At least Erwin had some mental preparation for what she was ahead of time--Levi just had it dumped on him all at once.

When he seemed to reach a point he was satisfied with, Erwin leaned forward, hands folded together and resting against his chin as a hard and serious light appeared in his eyes, focused on L/N on the other side of those bars.

“Levi has already filled me in on what he’s been able to observe, and what he’s heard from local legends. I’m of the opinion we should get some clarity from you--confirmation or denial on the accuracy of these details, anything we might be missing. That way we have a better understanding of who we’re dealing with.”

L/N looked away, Levi able to catch the briefest flash of resignation in her eyes as she chose to instead look at the wall across from her again. “Know thine enemy, correct?”

“Well...whether you’re our enemy or our ally has yet to be decided. Ideally, we’ll know after we finish talking.”

"What do you want to know?"

For the time being, Erwin took over the interrogation entirely while Levi acted the silent observer, giving her soft questions that were easy to answer and shedding light on the basics of what she was.

"Legends say you're immortal. Y/N Frazier supposedly died about forty years ago, which would make you--"

"Late sixties, approaching seventies. Except I don't age, so even though I've been around for that long, I'm frozen in my mid-twenties. I'll never get a day older."

"And the blood drinking?"

"Unfortunately very true. So long as I keep a healthy diet of blood in my system, I function like any other human being. Except, I don't actually need to eat and drink regular food to survive. It helps me look normal and blend in, I can still enjoy it, benefit from herbal teas, and eating and drinking regular food can help with...cravings."

"Levi’s noted that you go out once a week to satiate your hunger. That's quite a lot of people to have killed over forty years or longer, if you stuck with the once a week approach."

"It's the diet and lifestyle. I could go longer without it if I wasn't in a field where I'm likely to be around blood often and need to keep cravings tightly under control. Not to mention I'm not taking the best quality blood out there, which unfortunately means I need more across a shorter span of time because it doesn't keep me satisfied as long."

"Blood quality?"

"Yeah, the better quality blood, the stronger the vampire and the less often they need to feed. Animal blood could work in a tight spot, but it would be miserable, and it would be harder to resist human blood constantly denying that basic nature, so it's not an option for me. People that do a lot of drinking and drugs and other pollutants to their bodies have a lower quality blood, and surprisingly lifestyle has an impact as well. Certain bloodlines are...exceptional: top tier stuff, like perfectly curated tea leaves."

"And your...diet?"

"A lot of pollutants...bare minimum stuff. I try to single out people who thrive off the suffering of others, the people doing the really nasty stuff to others where they think no one is looking. Sometimes I'm rushed, and I don't always have the luxury of a full background check before targeting someone, but I have my standards and tricks for luring the worst people out. I have lines I don't want to cross. It satiates my hunger, but I could do better. I just refuse to feed off innocent people...like most vampires seem to do."

“What if you didn’t feed off anyone? What happens?”

“Slow and painful starvation over...I don’t know, decades, centuries? It’s not pleasant. Someone threatened me with it once and from what I understand its a very slow and agonizing decay over a very, very, very long period of time.”

"You mentioned how your diet can affect how strong you are--what does it affect? Levi’s already noticed you have keen senses, fast reflexes, strength, speed…"

"He's not wrong," she said softly. "One of my first days here I got in trouble for holding back on my fellow cadets. The problem is, if I don't hold back, someone could get seriously hurt. I can move faster than the average person--I could probably intercept an arrow, maybe even a bullet. Reflexes fall into that same category. I have enhanced senses, definitely. I can hear your heartbeats, and the heartbeats of the people above us, a mile out if I'm not focusing, a little further if I am. I've learned to sift through all the excess noise and focus on certain sounds or voices, or to block it out if I need to. Sight is much sharper than normal, too--as is smell."

Her gaze shifted to Levi, and she directly addressed him once more. "That's why you couldn't sneak up on me until I was in the Underground. Then I was distracted and blocking out the smells around me. Normally, though, you have a very distinct scent--not bad, just distinct--that I grew accustomed to picking up on. And sometimes the breeze carried it even further.”

Bold of her to address him. As he listened to her casually discuss her abilities and killing people, his expression had darkened, scowling deeply. Sure, he could give way on the matter of having to kill to survive. He could see that much now--at least she had to in order to survive so she didn’t die a slow and painful death, or hurt someone innocent by accident. But how casually she discussed it, how flippant she sounded talking about taking life--that didn’t sit well with him.

Now, however, as she discussed all of these strengths of hers, all these advantages she had over the rest of him, there was something else that was nagging at the back of his mind. He remembered the exhilaration in her eyes when she’d killed that Titan despite the close call Eld had in that exact moment, and how he’d been concerned she might not be taking it seriously. Yes, she’d told him when he was still dying that she joined to help, her intentions there had been pure--she’d felt she could find purpose coming to the Scouts, that maybe the death that followed her just so she could survive could mean something if she dedicated her life and abilities to serving a purpose greater than herself.

Hmm...maybe she did take all the killing she did to survive seriously. It was hard to tell with her. She was so flippant and casual talking about it now, but back then, there had been notes of something...deep and unsettling in her voice. An emotion that didn’t quite have a word to go with it, but revolved around the knowledge of so many people dying so you could live, and wanting to make sure it wasn’t for nothing.

Shit, now wasn’t the time to be sympathizing, he had a purpose here--he was here to seek out any ill intent, and he had to shove aside the sympathizing for her plight or anything else that crept up for later reflection. Right now was the time to dig in and search no matter how harsh he got with his questions.

And his current concern was that the situation that was life and death, horror and tragedy for the rest of them, was nothing more than a game, a simple change of pace, mere exercise for her. From the sound of it, between her regeneration and all these enhanced senses, strength, reflexes, speed, all of it, it was like she was fucking invincible. There was no real risk for her like there was for the rest of them. All this struggle and sacrifice and suffering from the people around her, and she had nothing to lose, there was no real threat towards her, personally--she didn’t even have to put any effort into it.

Their life and death struggle was like a game to her.

It pissed him off the more he thought about it, until he couldn’t keep a lid on it anymore.

And her directly addressing him like that gave him the opportunity to let the first accusation fly.

Voice low and deadly, chilling as ice, Levi’s hard gaze drilled into her from where he was leaning against the stone wall of the dungeon. “It’s not even a real risk to you is it, going out there where the rest of us struggle, suffer, and die? Just a fucking game for you with how fucking invincible you are, from the sounds of it--”

Her eyes flashed, and her voice grew colder to match his chilly tone as she cut him off before he could get too far with his accusation.

“It’s still a risk for me, too. Maybe not as great, maybe I have a better chance, but it still would only take one wrong step. Unlike a Titan, I can’t grow back a full limb. I don’t age, but I can still die. Some deaths, okay, fine, I’ll come back from it. I’ll come back from a bullet to the brain, or suffocating to death, or a stab through the heart with a blade. I can’t come back from decapitation. Just one bite in the wrong place, and I’m just as fucked as anyone else in that situation,” she said bitingly, taking a deep breath to try and calm down, her tone losing some of its chilling edge as she continued. “It doesn’t help that my reactions play out faster than the ODM gear can function. While everyone else was learning how to properly operate the ODM gear and balance and react and all that, I had to focus more on slowing down for the gear than anything else, because if I react too fast at the wrong time, and the ODM gear skips something I was trying to do because I did it too fast, I could sail right into the thing’s arm or mouth. I might not have been putting in the same kind of effort in the same places as everyone else, but that doesn’t mean there’s not any effort being put in by me, doesn’t mean that I don’t have to be careful as well, that there’s no risk. Hell, one of my greatest fears is something catching that necklace and causing it to come off in the middle of the day on an expedition. I’d be fucked, dead in seconds with no shade for protection. There’s risk for me, too, even if it's a different kind of risk.”

While Levi put her monologue aside for later to mull over, letting it soothe his concerns that she wasn’t taking the expeditions seriously for the time being, Erwin leapt for the reins of the interrogation again.

“So far you have given the impression of invincibility, though. His concern is justified,” Erwin said diplomatically, and she sighed, visibly calming herself down again.

“I’m not invincible. I have rules and limitations just like everyone else,” she mumbled, leaning her head back against the stone wall.

“Like?”

Her eyes flickered over to Erwin. “You can understand why I’m hesitant to be forthcoming about that kind of information.”

“Too bad,” Levi said flatly. “You agreed to talk and answer questions. If you don’t answer them, we’ll have to assume the worst.”

And if she wasn’t willing to tell them how she wasn’t invincible, they would have to assume she didn’t want them knowing how to stop her, which would mean she was actually planning something sinister.

“Vampire or not, it's never a comfortable thing telling someone exactly how to kill or stop you,” she mumbled, running a hand through her hair, an uncomfortable look on her face before she reluctantly began to speak.

“I already mentioned being out in the sun unprotected for too long can kill me. So can decapitation. A wooden stake to the heart for some reason kills a vampire. So does burning alive. I already said that I can’t grow back limbs--my regeneration is slowed down if I’m near death or haven’t fed in a while. Vice-versa, I heal faster when I’m well fed or I’m feeding. Oh, here’s a weird one--I can’t enter a living space for a human being unless I’m invited in. Community places that people rotate out of like inns or the barracks are a grey spot, I can go in there, but private homes, property, anything that is the private living space of a human being I can’t enter without being invited.”

Wait a second...She has to be fucking joking, right?

She was just in his bedroom the other day--she’d carried him back to his office, to his living quarters, without being invited inside. She’d been in and out of his office running errands for him.

But that first time, when she’d first been made an aid...he’d thought it was odd, but he’d assumed she was trying to be polite but had pushed it to annoying levels. He distinctly remembered how she’d waited until he had said the words come in before she entered his office for the first time. She’d been waiting for him to truly invite her in instead of making some vague noise or answering with a simple, yes, what, whatever it was he felt at the time. After that she hadn’t waited for another come in, she’d just entered his office like a normal person.

He’d had a safe space, a barrier she couldn’t cross between her and him, a place she couldn’t enter unless he allowed it, and unknowingly, he had thrown away that layer of protection. She’d been well aware that was what he was doing, too.

He felt like some part of his privacy had been invaded, knowing that she shouldn’t be able to enter his office and bedroom, but because of that one time he had invited her in without understanding the consequences, he wasn’t going to get that safe space back.

Her gaze wandered over to Levi, spotting the angry look on his face, and she jumped to her own defense before he could voice it.

“Before you get angry about me being invited into your office, I wasn’t exactly given much of a choice considering I was given a job where that protection barrier was going to come down at some point. How else was I going to be your aid if I couldn’t come into your office to deliver something or pick something up? The moment I was made your squad’s aid, it was something that couldn’t be helped.” She sighed. “It’s not something I’ve taken advantage of, and I have no intention of doing so in the future, if that makes you feel any better. But future reference--a good way to keep a vampire out and to maybe pick out a vampire, is to stay vague when letting people into your private spaces. Don’t outright tell them to come in--just imply it. A vampire needs specific, verbal permission to come inside, anyone else can just walk right in. It’s a good habit to have.”

“Anything else?” Erwin prompted before Levi could do anything more but sulk in the background at the revelation that he’d let a vampire into his office and now he couldn’t do anything to take that back.

“Yes--something rather major, actually.” She got up from her seat and walked over to the bars of the cell, leaning casually forward against them and centered her gaze, once again, on Levi. “Ever since Petra had me start making your tea, I’ve spiking it--”

He knew he should have thrown out that tea!

“How the hell is that supposed to be reassuring?” Levi fumed, cutting her off before she could finish. As if finding out about the being invited in thing wasn’t bad enough!

“Let me finish before you bite my head off,” she said with a slight scowl. “I’ve been spiking the tea with white sage. The reason I’ve been doing that is because it protects a person from vampires. It's practically poison to a vampire. It burns the hell out of us if it touches our skin, it's like swallowing acid if we consume it. Anyone who has white sage in their system, a vampire can’t safely bite. Ingesting it will cause enough pain to knock them out, if they ingest enough. At the very least it will incapacitate them long enough to try to bolt or fight back.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Why spike my tea?”

“Well, first of all, access. You're the one whose drinks I’ve had access to. Secondly...remember what I said about certain bloodlines being exceptional?” She let that comment hang in the air, staring at him until she saw realization spark in his eyes. His blood--his blood was one of the exceptional ones that would make her stronger if she partook. “An exceptional bloodline also means it’s harder to resist. I did it as a precaution. It’s a damn good thing I did, too.”

When she was trying to save his life. Her eyes, the noises she made, how much she seemed to be struggling, and yet she didn’t so much as lick the blood off her fingers. Because when she started making his tea, she’d made his blood poisonous to her so she couldn’t bite him, even if she lost control.

He...didn’t know how to feel about that.

As infuriated as he was at the thought of her purposely tampering with his drinks and violating the gesture of trust it had been to even allow her to make his tea by spiking his drinks, it had been done to protect him--and it already had protected him. Even if he hadn’t known it at the time.

It wasn’t like she could tell him she was adding white sage to his drinks to prevent her from accidentally killing him some day because his blood was too tempting to resist. She’d been trying to hide this whole other world, trying to keep her true nature secret--it wasn’t like she could tell him she was going to add white sage to his drinks to protect him.

Don’t think about it too much right now, just absorb the information and move on--how you feel about it can come later, he chastised himself again, once more shutting down the stirrings of sympathy for her that was egged on by these little bits of extra information they were receiving about what she’d actually been doing in the background all this time.

He still had to press some of her buttons to answer a few more questions. There were still a few questions he had, and he wanted to see how she would react under stress. If they could trust her to keep a lid on her emotions and keep from losing control.

That seemed to be a running theme for her. Control. If she couldn’t keep control of herself, someone could end up seriously hurt.

He’d already almost bled to death in front of her, so that was one trial by fire she’d already passed. However, he wanted to test out a different kind of self-restraint. From the sound of it, with all these abilities of hers, she could accidentally kill someone in a fit of rage.

So...did she have enough discipline to keep a tight grip on her own leash? If anyone was going to test the theory, he was probably the best person to do so, and now was the time.

Keeping that cold and indifferent exterior he’d kept up through this entire discussion, Levi spoke up after a few moments of silence passed, likely from Erwin giving Levi a chance to pursue the discussion about her spiking his tea.

Levi was about to derail this entire interrogation.

"You sure know how to paint yourself as the well-intentioned victim.” Levi’s chilling tone echoed around the suddenly silent dungeon, his gaze boring down on her without a hint of the sympathy that kept getting stirred up from hearing about the situation she was in, the way she viewed things. It was just cold indifference he was projecting towards her. “The only problem is, I don't think someone who isn't above slaughtering her own best friend is anything close to a victim, let alone someone to be trusted.”

She stiffened as he brought up Victoria, her own demeanor rapidly shifting away from that casual posture she’d been keeping this entire time to someone who was ready for a fight. Levi kept pressing on, sensing he might have found what he was looking for.

“If you're not above that, how the hell are we supposed to take your word for any of this? How could we possibly trust anything you have to say?"

Her posture was rigid, eyes holding anger and her teeth grit even as she tried to take a calming breath and answer in an even tone. Erwin, meanwhile, was giving Levi a sidelong look, trying to glean what Levi hoped to find by so clearly antagonizing her.

“I get that you're doing your job and you’re trying to figure out the kind of threat I pose, I get that you don’t trust me and you’re assuming the worst, but for god’s sake ask instead of assuming you know something when you clearly don’t understand anything about it except what I tell you.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously at the end towards Levi, a bite in her voice most people wouldn’t dare to use when talking to him. Even behind bars, even when she was the one in the position to be interrogated, she didn’t hesitate to bite back, showing a surprisingly strong spirit despite that timid exterior she’d been projecting in public all this time.

He just needed to push a little further, and he could probably coax a reaction out of her. Hopefully, she really was in control of herself and it wouldn’t result in anything deadly. If she didn’t have control of herself...well, hopefully the bars would delay her enough to allow him to react fast enough and intercept her.

"It's a legitimate question. If you've been struggling with this violent nature of yours since you were born, and you've already hurt people like Victoria, what’s to say you won't hurt anyone else? That you won't snap, lose control--that we won't be next?"

Bringing up Victoria by name was like he’d said some kind of trigger word. Her voice dripped with freezing venom, even as deep-running hurt flashed in her eyes, proving that she was, in fact, lashing out.

He finally found a button that set her off, information spilling out of her in a torrent of unbridled emotion stirred up by his brisk, accusatory statement.

"Vampires aren’t born, Captain, they’re made. Which means a few decades ago I was just as human as you. Just a regular carpenter’s daughter living in Wall Rose in a no name town, where I probably would have married, had kids, and died in obscurity if I hadn’t been caught in the rain one night and crossed paths with the worst person I could have stumbled upon."

Her cold voice paused, all that chilling intensity focused on Levi and Levi alone, Erwin temporarily forgotten amidst the verbal back and forth they were caught in. Her words were meant for only him, and she didn't hold back on any perceived courtesy anymore.

“Do you know how a vampire’s made, Captain? It got mentioned when we talked briefly after you woke up," she said in an almost mocking tone to go with her rhetorical question. Realization was stirring in the back of his mind as he remembered what that risk had been in saving his life, but she pressed on before the full implications of that fact could settle in. “A human being has to die with vampire blood in their system. And then they have to drink human blood to finish the transformation. I may not know the specifics, if you have to be dead for a certain period of time before the blood makes you a vampire instead of just heals you, if you have to drink from a human in a set time limit--I don’t know any of that. I didn’t get an explanation. There was no induction, no passing comment, not even a hint that I wasn’t human anymore. I woke up unable to remember the night before thinking I was simply sick after catching a cold in the rain, and I went to my parent’s house because it felt like the kind of sick I wanted someone to keep an eye on me for in case it got really bad.”

Details of that "double homicide" flashed in Levi’s mind rapidly, and he felt sick to his stomach as the missing information she provided started to fill in the gaps and bring the larger image into focus in his mind. As schooled as his expression was, she was staring at him so intently that the realization in his eyes didn't escape her notice.

“Now it’s clicking. That night before the double homicide Y/N Frazier is now famous for in that town? I was murdered. And because I had no explanation or understanding of what was happening to me, I didn’t know to stay away from the people I cared about. So when Victoria came to visit me…”

She swallowed and looked away when her voice wavered at the end, trying to hide the sudden flash of vulnerability and remorse that came with a haunting memory.

But then her eyes flashed again, and she glared at Levi from the other side of the bars.

“So no, Captain, I didn’t ask for this, and it's not as simple as being born like this. It was done to me. I never had a choice. Maybe try to keep that in mind in the future when you’re fishing for answers instead of blindly accusing me of something.”

Well aware that he’d crossed some kind of boundary after that acidic spiel from her, Levi refrained from poking at what happened that night any further. He needed to back off that subject--a lot of these subjects, actually--and do some thinking before he said anything else.

As for the interrogation...

One more push, one more time antagonizing her, and he’d back off if it didn't yield anything.

"You still haven't answered my question," Levi said curtly. And she hadn't. Instead of answering if she was a threat to them,, she'd gone on a long-winded spiel about her past and how he was making wild accusations.. "All the good intentions in the world won't change the fact that you're a threat to us. Are you?"

She made a noise of frustration, teeth grinding together in a barely restrained growl of frustration before she stepped back from the cell bars, snapped the chain on the handcuffs without a second thought, clawing the cuff parts off like wet paper and letting them fall to the ground. Levi straightened up from the wall as she reached for the bars of the cell, stepping in front of Erwin protectively with his arm held out in warning as she bent the bars aside to step right through with a bit of bending and wiggling. Behind his back, Levi had drawn a knife and was holding it firmly in hand, even if, given the information they’d just received, it wouldn’t do much long-term good. But it could at least slow her down.

She didn’t move any closer, but Levi wasn’t assured--if anything, he was on edge now, heart rate picking up as they stared each other down.

“Yeah, that’s reassuring--so you’re an unpredictable threat,” Levi said scathingly. His grip shifted on the knife, flipping it around to a more comfortable position and a better grip he could use to lash out quickly and without warning. Erwin shifted slightly behind him, but considering Levi couldn’t see him with his attention focused on L/N, he didn’t know how Erwin was reacting to the situation besides that slight shift after seeing Levi’s grip showing he was ready to act.

“Because I am.”

That...was not an answer he’d been expecting. His head tilted slightly to the side, eyebrows raising. She didn’t look like she’d suddenly gone crazy. If anything, she just looked exasperated right now.

Throwing a hand aside as if to gesture to the hole she’d just made in the cell bars, a short, bittersweet laugh escaping her. “Fucking hell, don’t ever treat a vampire as anything less, because if they are a threat and you give them the benefit of the doubt, its too late. I get the reaction and intention to treat me as nothing more than a monstrous threat, it’s a healthy reaction, it’s a reaction that would give you a chance against a vampire that didn’t have good intentions, which is most of them. But if I was really after you I would have just done it and left by now. I wouldn’t be wasting my time sitting here giving you the best explanation I can muster and enduring the accusations. And I wouldn’t be going to the lengths that I have to take the necessary precautions to make sure I don’t accidentally hurt someone ever again, especially someone in the Scouts.”

Levi’s grip on the knife behind his back relaxed, and he slowly started to slide it back into its holster, both him and L/N taking a few breaths in the tense silence and gradually calming down from the mood that had tipped towards explosive.

“Look…” she said in a sharp exhale, gaze sliding between Levi directly in front of her, and what she could see of Erwin behind him. “I can’t tell you that I’m not a risk, because it would be a lie. Your question shouldn’t be am I a risk, but am I a risk you’re willing to take. If not...I’ll go quietly, try to find another purpose, I guess. But I would like to stay, and do what I can, here.”

Behind Levi, Erwin got to his feet, putting a hand on Levi’s shoulder as a silent way to tell him to stand down for the time being, stepping up to the woman in front of them, studying her head to toe. She let him do so, meeting his gaze unwaveringly despite its intensity.

“Levi, let L/N here have her necklace back. I think I’ve heard all I need to for now.”

Levi didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as give Erwin a sideways glance. He simply pulled the necklace out of the pocket he’d stowed it in, holding it out for L/N to take. She did so hesitantly, looking between Erwin and Levi with an unsure expression on her face, like she wasn’t sure if it was a trick or a test.

“Go back to your duties--I’m sure the rest of Levi’s squad has plenty for you to do while we make our decision,” Erwin said simply, turning to Levi and nodding towards the exit of the dungeon to signal that they were going to leave together.

“I’ll...fix the bars, first,” she said awkwardly, standing in place as they turned to leave like she didn’t know what to do with herself, necklace still in hand instead of around her neck.

She was just as socially awkward as she was sharp when she needed to be. Underneath that timid hesitation when it came to being around people, to trying to be a part of society again, there was one hell of a strong personality. It was like being entranced by the delicate petals atop a rose and then realizing when you wrapped your hand around its stem just how thorn-covered it actually was.

That’s what she was. Not an enigma--a rose, one with soft but vibrant petals and leaves, but sharp thorns running all the way down the stem that wouldn’t hesitate to pierce skin and draw blood.

Erwin turned to give her a small smile, adding in the slightest nod. “Please. A cell with a hole in it doesn’t do us much good,” he commented humorously before leading the way for him and Levi out of the dungeon.

Now he could let himself consider everything he’d heard. And he could already tell it was not going to be easy.

In his mind, the decision between whether or not to let her stay was made. What was left was to process everything they’d learned and figure out how to move forward. And in Levi’s case, how to make reparations.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn @sunny-flo @whalerus @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse@subtlepjiminie @hakunamatatayqueen @queenofcurse @linxiajei17

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kazewhara · 3 years

Note

Hiya zuzu, its like, 8pm by the time im writing this. Because, ive learnt that yes, in fact, we are on opposite sides of the world :( (maybe,)

Im not sure if you got my rant last time but,, Witch!Herbal!Reader qnd Prince!Kazuha rant in coming.

First things first:

Kitty. Qiqi. Kitty qiqi that is like the little sister of cat xiao. She is probably a light grey cat with a faint purple tint to her fur, and light purple eyes. She is smaller than Xiao(obv, being a baby) and is much more of an unbothered furbal.

Kitty qiqi who, loves being carried, will start meowing so loudly(trust me, my cat, Winter, is so loud when she meows sometimes) until she is picked up or carried onto some elevated surface. Absolutely loves being up high. (That’s why you have this mini wooden side-walk thing at the top of your walls. Encircling the small building, starting and ending at a cat tower/scratching post with a small staircase thingy to go up. Was originally Xiao’s but it became qiqi’s when you took the stray in one rainy night.)

Kitty qiqi who, unlike Xiao, doesnt turn her back and ignore the prince, instead just staying silent and deciding to nap. Until he picked her up one time when she was awake and pawing at your feet for food attention, and she climbed to the top of his head, and declared that that was the best nap spot. (Kazuha has to bend his neck downwards everytime, scared the kitten might fall. Source: My other kitten, Walnut whom i keep on accidentally mistaking for Peanut bc they look the same but the other is smaller.)

Oh and did i mention that he lets out a chuckle everytime? With his bangs falling down and covering his face slightly? And he’s smiling..? Ahem—

Kitty qiqi who also gets dragged into Klee’s game of house. Kitty qiqi who ends up being the one in a mini scarf and beanie everytime the elf visits during the colder seasons. (idk what they are, there’s only 2 seasons here..)

Little elf girl Klee who, whenever she wakes up from her sleep on a, rather comfy couch and wrapped in a warm blanket, rubs the sleep away from her eyes with her small, ungloved hands and yawns out a, “Big brother Albedo..?”, and turns her head left and right in search for her brother. Until she realizes, “Oh! Big sister [Name)’s house! *Gasp*! Kitties!” then runs — stumbles — towards a small pile of Black and light grey fur on the carpet.

(Just imagine, cat Xiao and kitten qiqi in a cuddle pile as they sleep ahaksvajsbwj if you havent noticed, im very, very much enjoying this cat concept)

Then you come walking over in your pajamas and messy hair with two cups of hot choco which she gladly accepts. Klee likes sleepovers at your house.

Btw, i am very tempted to make Klee call witch reader big sister in chinese bc i think its cute.. “姐姐(jiejie, big sister) [name]!”. your choice,

anywaay..!

Burny girl Klee who brought a dirty, teenage boy with long light grey hair dressed in a jacket and pants, over to your house once. Introduced him as her “Best friend, Razor! He talks to the wolves, and is friends with them! Just like you with the kitties!” with a wide closed-eyed smile.

You gave him a bath and new clothes later that day, Razor calls you big sister too now. (Then Klee brought over a boy with googles and white hair and a bunch of bandages over. The cats absolutely love Bennett, Xiao is still a bit wary though. he dont trust nobody but you and that other prince with long blonde hair and his sister)

Oh, and did i mention that Grumpy kitty Xiao has a soft spot for not only you, but his little cat sister Qiqi, Bennett, Razor and Klee? (Though he’s like sentient that can talk, they dont know that.. only you do and that’s why he told you “If you kick Qiqi or any of the kids out, im going to scratch you.” He doesnt mean it.. sorta. Just light scratches that hurt but wont make you bleed.) Xiao’s a big ‘ol softie cat that likes cuddles and likes to be petted.

Im.. gonna stop now- before i make a family of cats dor the reader bejwbwj

- 🦫 going to bed now

AWWWWWW 🥺🥺

i'm sorry if i missed any earlier asks you sent -- i'll go through my asks soon and check em out! but THIS IS SO CUTE 🥺 i've already started drafting a little something about this and now you're making me wanna add qiqi and klee :( 💗💗💗💗

#z box #z anon #🦫 anon #this little au is so cute

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dae-writing · 4 years

Text

Little Housewife

Yandere!Dabi x reader, 5k

Warning: smut, porn with very little plot, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, praise kink, dirty talk, dubious consens, yandere behavior, stockholm syndrom, culilingus, somnophillia mentioned,

A/N: First time writing smut, English isn’t my first language, not beta read, also haven’t written anything that long in a long time

This was inspired by @honeyyandere respons to my dabi houswife thirst thanks darling for reminding me of my pregnancy kink

She sighed happily as she looked out of the kitchen window, her hand on her slowly swelling belly. This little house in the suburbs was so different to the small flat Dabi had originally taken her two years ago. Even though it still tugged on her heartstrings thinking about that place, after all it was the place she fell in love with the handsome man. Or actually wasn’t it before that, in that alleyway? She giggled slightly, it didn’t matter much now, did it? What did anything matter outside this house and her young family? She should be grateful for all that her love has done for her.

No one else would have loved her enough to care about her anyways. The thought made her lips turn downward for a second before she focused on the stew on the stove instead. It has been boiling for a little while now and will be done soon. Hopefully Dabi would be home in time today. She had been seeing him even less since they moved, only really when he would crawl in bed with her at night. Waking her up with his movements or at latest when his fingers or mouth would wander to her private place to reward her for dinner. More than once she woke up with him already inside her, hovering above her and growling about some stupid idiot next to her ear. The memory made her shiver and let a warmth rush down her body.

She pushed herself away from the counter before she got any stupid ideas. Dabi didn’t like it when she touched what was his. She moved through the hallway on the way to the backyard wanting to get some more herbs for the stew. Y/N frowned when she saw the rug, it had laid there since before they moved in but recently during cleaning she had discovered a big spot underneath it, similar in color to the small ones that stained the side of their bed. The previous owners really had been careless with the place. Even Dabi seemed displeased with them, judging from the face he made when she complained about the ones on their bed. And that meant a lot from how his flat originally looked like. She moved through the hallway out into the garden, the grass soft under her feet. A wind blew through the green oasis tugging at the skirt of her dress and she only remembered at the last moment to hold it down so her neighbors wouldn’t be able to see her privates, not bothering to wear underwear all by herself.

Humming slightly to herself she wandered to the small herbal plants, at least this part of the estate had been taking care of. She took some herbs and then wandered back to the house. Lost in her thoughts about little baby onesies and which of the many rooms of the second floor should be their babies home. Maybe the one right at the corner of the stairs, would be fitting for the first born. The rest would be easily filled with their siblings.

She went through the backdoor, fixing something that wasn’t in the right place in the hallway so everything was tidy. This was the thing she could do to pay back for the way Dabi cared for her, she wasn’t easy to love she had realized that now. A clean house, good meals and her womb to bear his child. Y/N entered the kitchen, sprinkled the herbs before stirring once again.

She nearly screamed when an arm wrapped around her midriff, but the deep voice that growled into her ear put her at ease at once. “Doll”, Dabi pulled her back into his chest. Giddily Y/N turned in his embrace and nearly jumped in his arms, her heart bursting seeing him. He smiled down at: “Easy there, don’t want to hurt you two” he captured her lips with his and she melted into him. Their lips moved against each other, his hands moved to her lower back sending a small shiver through her. Y/N’s hands moved into the man's hair pulling him closer trying to close the gap between their bodies. A small whimper left her when he pulled away, making her blush and him chuckle. The azur eyes moved from her face to the stove behind her. “This smells good, what is it?” “Stew! It’s nearly done. Take a seat”, she excitedly pointed to the dinner table she had set like every night, but this time he was here! “Alright”, he grinned at her state. She missed the warmth of his arm when he let go but she plated the food fast, turned the stove off and carried it to the table where he had taken place. “Careful, doll”, a look of worry crossed his face making her feel warm before she put the plates down. Taking a seat, she expectantly looked at him waiting to see how he liked it. He always showed his gratefulness for the food but she nearly never got to see his reaction. It seemed as if he was stiffing a chuckle before taking a bite. His eyes widened: “It’s really good!”

Y/N grinned at him: “I seasoned it with the herbs from the garden! I’m so happy the previous owner at least took care of that part of the house” She took her own bite and missed the look on his face when she mentioned the previous owners. “Yeah they truly didn’t know how to treasure such a precious thing” Dabi took her hand across the table and smiled at Y/N, who’s checks were once again warm. They finished their dinner while she excitedly chatted about her day while he mainly smiled and nodded.

Dabi gave her a quick kiss before leaving to take a shower murmeln a small thanks against her lips. She quickly did the dishes and then made her way up the stairs to their bedroom which faced the backyard. She walked through the room and closed the balcony doors. lingering in the last sun rays for a short moment. Summer was slowly coming to an end, not that she would ever be cold with Dabi around her. Their child will most likely be born around christmas, just the thought of being able to spend the holidays with her own little family made her heart flutter.

She went over the bed to pull back the covers, not really caring that the position made her skirt hike up revealing her pussy to the silent room. It might be a little early for most people their age to go to bed but Dabi had an exhausting job and only was able to sleep knowing she was in his arms. A rough hand laid itself on her bare bottom and Dabi let out a pleased growl behind her. “Stay like this” Y/N heard something drop behind her, heat rushing to her face and groin.

“Have you been thinking about me?”, her lover asked, a finger tracing her labia, picking up some slick left over from her thoughts she had earlier the evening. “I hope it was me, otherwise I would be greatly disappointed”

She shook her head: “No! Just you, only you!” The thought of him being disappointed in her formed a clump of ice in her stomach, he was her world after all.

Dabi growled again before he plunged into her. Y/N let out a loud moan with sudden intrusion. He pulled her by the hips deeper on his cock, one hand finding his way to her belly. “You’re so gorgeous like this. My pretty little wife.” He snapped his hips into her even though his trust weren’t nearly as brutal as they used to be before her pregnancy . Y/N mewled beneath him, his cock still filling her up completely. She clenched around his shaft at his words and he let out a growl: “ You are on my mind all day, little one. Just thinking about you waiting for me, full and ripe” His fingers sliding from her stomach to her little bundle of nerves. Pleasure shot through her making Y/N bury her face in the sheets. “I hate wasting my whole day with these idiots and their useless nonsense “ Dabi drove into her harder and she let out a startled gasp. He stilled immediately, a concerned hand wandered to her stomach. She grabbed it and interlaced it with his bellow her belly button: “We’re fine. Everything's fine” It hadn’t really hurt her, being used to much rougher handling from her lover. Dabi pressed a loving kiss to her shoulder blade,his scared bottom lip giving it a pleasant scratchy sensation that she had come to love. Releasing the breath he was holding and he gently started moving again. “My precious little doll” He littered kisses along her spine through the thin fabric of her dress, his hand not straying from her stomach this time. She felt the heat within her rising, his cock hitting all the right spots to make her see stars. “You’re so good to me”, Dabi fondelt her ass, making her push back into him. “Nobody could treat me so well as you do. A perfect little housewife but also such a slut”, He growled, nipping and kissing at her neck. Y/N breath came out in little pants, eyes closed in bliss. “Presenting yourself to me like that. I bet you didn’t wear panties the whole day only waiting for me to come home to take you. Did you?” When no response but a gentle moan came, he landed a hard slap on her buttcheek. “Y-yes”, she spluttered. Heat, even though she didn’t think it was possible to add anymore, rising to her cheeks and her pussy gushed around his cock, the juice flowing down her thigh. Dabi picked up the pace: “Of course you did, Doll. That’s what your life is about. This cock inside you, breeding you. This man, taking you. I’m all that you need, right?”, his hand left her stomach and he lifted her upper body from the bed by her throat. The new angel hitting even deep inside her. Y/N cried out, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She had been with him for years at this point but she could never get used to the way he talked to her, so different from the pristin way she was raised. And she could never stop the light tingle of shame over the hot arousal filling her when Dabi treated her like this. Toes curling into the carpet, climax aproching she couldn’t respond “Do you want your man to fuck another child into you? I bet there's still space in that precious womb of yours.”, He stopped his movement when she once again failed to respond. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill over “Tell me do you want that”, Dabi tightened his hand around her throat slightly. “Please”, she whispered. “Huh”, he pulled her even more into his chest, his staples rubbing against her back, “I didn't hear you” A single tear slipping out of her eyes, the hand around her starting to hurt, even though he refused to put real pressure into it like he used to, his cock filling her to the brim ,her arousal dancing dangerously close to the edge. “Please”, she managed to get out, her breath laborded. “Please, what?”, the smile was evident in his voice. Y/N whimpered, more tears running down her cheeks. She knew he liked this and could play this game the whole evening. Getting off of her shame, the way she cried and was helpless in his grasp. She swallowed thickly against his hand, staring at the ceiling of their beautiful home. “Please, breed me, love” Dabi sight and starting up his trusts again, slow and agonizing. “keep going my little cry baby. Tell me what a whore you are for me, you don’t think this little belly is enough for me right” The hand that wasn't around her throat gently caressed the swell of her stomach. Y/N whimpered again, the trust being too shallow to push her over the edge, her pussy juice freely running down her leg onto the carpet she deep cleaned this morning. “I want you”, she interrupted herself and cried out when he thrusted into her a bit harder,” I want you to stuff me, make me swell even more. I want them to know I’m yours” He let out a low groan and picked up the pace, essentially bouncing her on his cock. “Do you? Maybe tomorrow I should take you in the garden. Would you like that? The fence isn’t that tall. Imagine how easily our neighbours could see you, getting fucked by me. Just me”, he mused and hot shame ran through her as she gushed around him once again. Only for him to chuckle. “Oh? Does my little doll get off on that? The thought of everyone knowing you belong to me? Is that why you are always so wet and welcoming for me? Does the fact that there is no way you can hide your stretching womb from the world get you off? Do you like wandering this world with my child inside you, showing them that you belong to me?” Y/N cried out, tears falling freely down her cheeks, them being redder than her ass after that one time she tried to visit her parents. “Y-Yes', she choked out, shame and arousal coiling in her stomach. Dabi let out a moan and lowered her back to the bed, hands gripping her hips tightly. “That’s my good little fuckdoll”, he pushed into her expertly, “Come for me” The coil in her abdomen snapped making her scream into the sheets, toes curling and gushing all over his cock. Him following soon after with a low moan, savering the feeling of her clenching around him before slowly slipping out of her.

Dabi gently rolled her on her back and further onto the bed so she wouldn’t fall down. If he hadn’t been so tired by today's messed up mission, he would have been hard again by sight in front of him alone. Her face red and blotchy, covered in tear streaks with the occasional tear running down her check. The chest heaving under the pulled up fabric of her innocent white summer dress, which did very little to conceal the little bump of their child. Her legs spread open leaving him a perfect view of her spent pussy covered in her own juice with his cum leaking out. He made a distasteful noise and shoved it back in, making Y/N meawl and trying to push his hand away. He shushed her, laying down on his side next to her, littering small kisses over her face while he lazily pumped his finger inside her, his thumb finding her little nerve bundle making sure all of his semen stays where it’s supposed to be. It didn’t take long for her to come undone from his fingers, hiding her face in his shoulder. Dabi chuckled: “Still so shy, as if you weren't begging for me just a minute ago”

Even though his tierd body couldn’t muster a second errection today, that mission had been a complet fuck up after all, ending with most of them injured, his hunger wasn’t quite satisfist and with his prettly little thing so trusting in his arms how could he resist. His lips slowly wandered down from her forehead over her cheek to her neck. He spend a little more time biting and sucking at the tender skin, savoring the shaky breath she took underneath him before moving on. He slowly pulled down the straps of her dress liking and kissing at the swell of her breast before slowly revealing her erect nipple to him. Dabi took it in his mouth sucking and nibbling at the bud. Making delicious moans spill from her lips. How long did it take until they started lactating? He had to research that again. Maybe she would let him have a taste of it, not that she ever really said no to him. He pulled away leaving a finger to trace it. “I have heard they get bigger during pregnancy, noting any differences yet, doll?”, he looked up at her flushed face, making sure to keep his voice casual knowing that it drove her mad. “N-No”, she stuttered. “Sad”, he said before moving from her breast to her belly, his lust slipped from his mind for a bit. “Hey there little one”, he placed a kiss to each side next to her belly button.

Dabi remembered how his heart had dropped when she had told him she was pregnant. He had already been far too often concerned about having taken her, she would have been so much saver at her parents house not with a wanted villain like him. But they had been trying so hard to take her from him, going as far as having bodyguards around her 24/7. The thought alone made him want to burn everything in his sight down. The only thing lifting the clouds from his head at that time was that bright smile on her face, happy about starting a family with him. How different to the beginning when she would scream and yell at his sight alone. But that smile also reminded him why he had to keep her, without it he would go insane in this cruel world.

Y/N hadn’t started showing until a few days ago, at least it seemed to him like it had suddenly been there. Probably stemming from the fact that he barely got to see her in daylight these days. That fucker shigaraki seemed to work in full speed, making them go on one mission after another. Dabi couldn’t really tell him about his situation, the league of villains didn't exactly have health benefits or maternity leave. And he wasn’t close enough with any of them to discuss his private life with them. Not that they wouldn’t try to pray any bits of it out of him. They were already suspicious at him leaving the city for this house, making warp dudes job a lot harder than it already was having to collect him from further away. But he wouldn’t let any of them near his precious doll, not wanting to put her more into danger than she already was.

Dabi kept pressing kisses to the slightly stretched skin, muttern sweet nothing against it. “D-Dabi”, Y/N hand grabbed onto his hair lightly pushing his head down. He grinned : “Yes Doll? I’m currently having a conversation” Y/N flushed above him, struggling to maintain eye contact with him, gently pushing on his head again but still keeping that pretty little mouth shut. “You’re not jealous of the attention are you?”, the raven head teased but for once followed her lead downwards to her glistening sex. Not willing to submit to her completely he turned his head to her thigh, lapping up some of the juice that had started to dry. Purposefully scratching the staple of his checks along the soft flesh. Y/N had confessed how much she enjoyed the sensation once and he would be a horrible lover to deprive her of something she liked so much right. His darling whimpered above him. “My quirk’s fire, not mind reading, you know?!”, he dragged his hands going up towards her sex but trailed them down again before he reached it. Had it been a few months ago he might had heated up his palms to tease her a little, not enough to really hurt but enough to send a little trill down her spine. But just like he would rather kill himself than truly hurt his love, he would neve put his quirk anywhere near his child if he could help it. “Please touch me”, y/n managed to bring across her lips. “But I am touching you, am I not?”, his teeth nipped closer to her sex. “Please Touch my”, she stopped hand curling into the sheets, eyes wandering away from him across the room in thought. He laughed lightly, still the little church girl wasn’t she. “Your pussy?”, Dabi finished for her scentence, enjoying the wait the blush creeped over her face down to her neck. “Is that what you want? Me eating you out? My tounge in your clit? Me pleasing you with my mouth”, he continued teasing. Lifting his mouth from her thigh that at this point was nearly purple with love bits, both old and now, he hovered over her sex looking up at her. She gave a nod before catching herself and whispering a small yes. “How naughty of you”, he placed a kiss on her clit making her squirm, “we’re not even married yet “ was the last thing he said before diving into her. Eating her as she was his last meal, lapping and sucking at her core. Slurping every bit of her juice up before poking his tounge into her opening. Having her trash above her, moans leaving her lips, whispering swear praise had him in ecstasy. It didn’t take long before she came silently screaming, arching her back of the mattress. Dabi looked up at her contemplating on keeping going, but the labored breath and the exhausted look on her face made himself stop. He remembered how clean all the carpets on the second floor had seemed when he walked to take a shower, she must have been on her feet the whole day. Dabi moved up her body gently placing his lips on hers. He would have enough time to overstimulated her into oblivion in a few months.

Dabi got up, put on the sweatpants he had dropped earlier, leaving the room. Y/N laid in their shared bed, her breathing and skin color slowly returning back to normal. Still shaky she sat up, pushing her hair out of her sweaty face. Dabi returned shortly after he had left and picked her up wordlessly. She naturally put her arms around his neck, cuddling into his chest savoring the feeling of the different skin structure under her touch. He carried her to the master bathroom where he had drawn her a bath. Gently placing her down on the edge of the tub, taking off her dress and helping her slip into the warm water. “Is it too warm?” he asked, remembering reading that pregnant women shouldn’t take hot baths. Y/N shakes her head leaning back slightly and resting one hand on her stomach. His naturally joined hers: “Did I hurt you?” Just the thought of it made a sick feeling creep up his spine. He had toned down his manhandling of her significantly but something inside of him just couldn’t control herself when she was so small and dainty in his arms. Y/N gave him a smile: “No, it just seems natural to place my hand there” He hummed bending over the edge of the tub, cold and hard against his chest, to place a kiss on her stomach just above the water surface. Blushing his lover turned her head away, which earned her a dark laugh from him: “We just fucked and you’re still shy” “I guess that never is going to go away”, she mumbled, the heat not leaving her face the whole time Dabi helped her wash herself, both of them sharing sweet whispers and giggles between small kisses he would place on her skin.

After he lifted her out of the tub, against her protest, dressed her in one of the fluffy bathing ropes, he carried her back to their bedroom.

It washed over Y/N like cold water: “Your scars! Did you take care of them after your shower?” “Doll” he grumbled, wanting only to place her on the bed and to go to sleep even though he couldn’t say her concern didn’t make his heart swell. Knowing that that responds meant a clear no and without much thinking she jumped out of his arms. Fear gripped his previously warm heart for a slip second: “Y/N!” Said woman stood in front of him like a deer in headlights. He only ever used her name when she did something terrible, it sounded awful, foreign to her. Dabi grabbed her face: “Don’t ever do that again!” Tears pricked her eyes once again, she only wanted to take care of him, she acted without thinking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, she whimpered. “You are never allowed to leave my arms without my permission do you understand!” She nodded rapidly, but the fingers digging into her cheeks only thingend. “Yes, love. I promise”, she answered in a small voice. Dabi released her face, pulling the woman into his chest. “It’s not just you now, you have to remember that” “Yes”, she whispered meekly, trying to blink away the tears. He sighed, as he let go of her: “Now go get your goddamn balm if it means so much to you” Dabi made his way over to sit on the bed, which was still messy from their previous activities, a fact his darling disliked. He couldn't fully stop the smirk on his lips as he saw the disapproving face towards it from her, but for once held his tongue. Y/N grabbed the small jar stored in one of the bedside tables moving between Dabis legs and started applying the balm all over his burned skin. It was an old ritual they both had, her previous nursing experience making her aware of how sensitive burn scars are. She had left their flat to get the special, and very expensive, balm from a pharmacy across town. He had been so ready to burn down everything when she reappeared in front of him with the biggest smile possible on her face proudly presenting the tub. It was the only time he hadn’t punished her for leaving even though he made it clear to never do so without his permission again. Y/N frowned at how little was left in the tub, they always needed a lot for him: “I have to get a new one tomorrow” “No”, he said maybe a bit too harshly. Her doe eyes stared at him, she had been granted the right to leave with his permission a long time again, she didn’t understand what changed: “Have I not been good?” Ice accumulated in her stomach again, Heart Beating rapidly. She only had ever tried her best, wanting to give back to him after all he had done for her, but she seemed to lose his good side to her more and more over the last few weeks. She had tried her hardest to please him, maybe he did finally lose interest in her now that she’s pregnant. Y/N had heard from some of her friends before that their husbands lost interest in them when they got pregnant. Was this happening to them too? Was what he’s been saying during love making only to please her, to fulfill her disgusting fetish? Obviously. He probably only stayed with her because he was such a good man and felt responsible for them. “Doll”, Dabis rough voice pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts, pulling her closer and pushing a strand of her out of her face. “It’s too dangerous for you to go out alone in your state, I couldn't bear the thought of either of you getting hurt when I'm not there to protect you. Remember when I installed all those alarms?” Y/N nodded, swallowing thickly. Dabi pulled her into a soft kiss, taking the jar from her: “I’ll get the balm tomorrow alright? No need to worry your pretty little head” She nodded and let him pull her down with him. Them curling around each other, his hand reaching for her stomach: “I would burn the whole world down before I let them take you from me”

#mha scenarios #mha imagine #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi scenarios #yandere dabi #text #by the lady

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

A Song Among the Stars

Chapter count: 2/?

Rating: Mature 🔞

Relationships: Grand Admiral Thrawn/Original Female Character

Tags:

Space Opera (literally)

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

Never by thrawn

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Star Destroyers (Star Wars)

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Chiss (Star Wars)

Chiss Ascendancy (Star Wars)

Masquerade

The Empire shows off

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Total word count: 5,506

Chapter 1: Overture

Song suggestion: Reflections- Toshifumi Hinata

I lingered in the bath, fully understanding that I was only delaying the inevitable. The warm, aromatic water swirled around me as I began to dread the next few hours. Soon, the handmaidens assigned to prepare me for tonight would arrive to ensure my compliance.

At an earlier point in my life, I would have resisted all of their attempts to shove me into the various gowns, gems, and the absolutely appalling shoes that had been chosen for me. I had actually bitten the first girl that tried to change my outfit forcibly.

The handmaidens were all extremely wary of me after that incident, but, somehow, three of them had managed to become my only true friends on Coruscant. Despite my best intentions to hate everyone, Talle, Kaia, and Ahni were the only ones who bothered to understand my story.

Though each of us was from a different planet, we had all been taken from our homes by the Empire. We all served high-ranking Imperials, but my main role was different. I was a piece of Imperial propaganda. I was painted as the poor girl from the Outer Rim whose singing talent was discovered by the Empire and given a place to shine for the whole galaxy to see.

My train of thought was immediately interrupted by the sound of three very familiar sets of footsteps entering my room and a sing-song voice that rang out, “Oh Lyra! It seems that you’re stuck with us yet again.”

I let out a genuine snort before retaliating. “Kaia, you know nobody else wants to be anywhere near biting distance of me. You’d have to be personally requested by Lady Tarkin before anyone would consider switching jobs with you, and that’s saying something.”

I suddenly shuddered as I remembered my last encounter with her. Thankfully it had been brief, but it had still felt like an eternity. “That woman is so unpleasant.”

The second voice jokingly mused, “I don’t know, sometimes you can be almost as miserable as her. Now come on out of the bath. We have to start getting you ready.”

“Just five more minutes Talle.” I groaned, “I can just feel that tonight will be particularly long.”

Kaia laughed as she poked her head into the refresher and handed me a mug. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that, and that’s why we’re here ten minutes early.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Before you even begin to ask about it, here’s your shig.”

I shot Kaia a friendly scowl before immediately perking up at the mention of my favorite tea. I had always been partial to caf, but there was nothing better than a steaming cup of herbal tea before a performance. The citrusy scent of the behot immediately filled the small room, and holding the warm mug in my hands was instantly comforting. I let out a sigh of pure bliss, “Stars, you are a wonderful friend.”

Kaia winked before exiting the refresher. “Oh, I know.”

As I enjoyed the last few minutes of my bath, the tea brought back memories of my home. Before the Empire had taken me, a cup of shig and a hot bath would have been considerably rare, and the chances of both happening on the same day, even rarer.

Back on Ero, life was more mundane. My father always had quality goods on hand, but as a trader, he couldn’t just let his daughter drink all of his products. There were also no fancy bathtubs because they were a waste of precious drinking water, so almost everyone used sonic showers instead. I could resent the Empire all I wanted to, but there was no denying that I was at least well provided for. Somehow that made me hate my captivity even more.

I gripped my mug as I fought the other memories that tried to resurface. It had gotten easier to push them down as the years passed, but the pain was still there. Flashes of my capture, my time spent held on a Star Destroyer, the captain that had trapped me in his quarters…... The last thing I needed was to slip back into these memories.

Then there was a gentle hand on my shoulder. The sudden presence made me jump, but I saw Ahni’s smiling face when I looked up. Her face was both a comfort and a constant reminder that the Empire had hurt many people besides me. She had a beautiful deep green complexion marred by the scars from her capture that ran across her face and entire body. Ahni rarely spoke, but she was still extraordinarily expressive and always had ways to make her emotions known. Realization flashed across her face before she bent down and hugged me.

We shared an understanding moment of silence before Kaia yelled in from the other room. “Come on, Ly! We have to get you into all this kriffing fabric sometime today. I heard that we managed to get one of the better options, but tonight everything is special, so there’s more to do than usual.”

Stars, I almost forgot, I mentally berated myself. Tonight’s not only the biggest party I’ve been expected to perform at so far, but it’s the kriffing Masquerade too.

I immediately began cursing under my breath in every trade language I knew as I leapt from the bathtub, wrapped a robe around myself, and ran out of the refresher, closely followed by a very amused Ahni.

My apartment was quite lovely for basically being a prison. I had a plush bed with privacy curtains, a small vanity, a bedside table, a closet filled with outfits, and a tiny enclosed balcony. Having a private refresher made it very close to luxury.

I walked over to the vanity and had a seat. I had been prepared for Imperial events far too many times and knew the procedure that was about to happen by heart. I used to protest that I could get ready myself, but preparing for an Imperial ball required way more thought and perfection than anything else and by now, I put my trust in Kaia, Talle, and Ahni.

Tonight demanded absolute perfection.

The Masquerade was a collection and celebration of the Empire’s most significant members, and my role was to be the sparkling gem in the center of everything. I knew my true purpose tonight involved way more than my renowned singing ability. My presence tonight was pure propaganda. I was a message to every person on every planet in the Empire. This could be you. The Empire is generous. If this insignificant girl from the Outer Rim could be here, you could be here too.

I had already been warned about the consequences if I fell short of what was required tonight.

Hours later, the process was finally complete. Talle had powdered, colored, and shaded my face to her precise standards. She had even filled my lips in with a deep red pigment and darkened my eyelashes to complement my icy blue eyes. Not to be outdone, Kaia had coaxed my long blonde hair into an elegant, intricate updo inlaid with black and white quartz.

The dress came last, and it was stunning. When Ahni opened my closet, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. Whoever had selected it had undoubtedly wanted me to stand out. There would be no shortage of finery tonight, but I was to be resplendent.

Talle was completely astonished for a long moment before she spoke, “I do believe this is the least horrid thing they’ve picked out for you.”

Ahni nodded vigorously in agreement while Kaia and I remained utterly speechless. The dress was breathtaking, even just on the mannequin.

Getting into the dress was a three-person endeavor, but the struggle was utterly worth it. The long, form-fitting black dress perfectly hugged every curve from the floor up before tapering just slightly above my cleavage. There, the material shifted to the left, wrapped behind my neck, and then formed a sleeve that draped down my entire right arm. However, the most remarkable thing about the dress was the fabric. Any and every way that I moved caused the material to shimmer like the thousands of stars twinkling in the night sky.

I was provided a single thick, gold cuff for my left wrist, and even though the hem of the dress would cover them, heeled slippers made out of the same fabric as the dress.

Talle smiled and carefully handed me the final missing piece. “Now, now,” she jested, “you can’t go to a masquerade without this.”

The mask she handed me was so intricately ornate that it easily could have been mistaken for black lace, but it was actually made from a lightweight metal inlaid with dozens of sparkling diamonds. When I put it on, it rested just above my nose to conceal the upper half of my face beautifully.

As Kaia secured the whole thing in my hair with more pins and gemstones, Ahni produced a floor-length mirror from the closet. In my performances on Eros, I had worn dresses that were considered elegant in the Outer Rim, but there was no way they could ever compare to this. For the first time in my life, I was stunned at my appearance. I had never been overly confident, but now I felt absolutely beautiful.

Talle laughed, “Just try not to stop any hearts tonight. The Empire might lose important officers, and then we’d all be in trouble for making you look this good.”

Kaia placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her snickering, and Ahni looked highly amused by the thought.

I just rolled my eyes, “I think their partners would probably get to me first.”

That sent everyone over the edge, and we all laughed to the point of tearing up. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Ahni went over to open it, and two officers decked out in their Imperial best stepped into the room. The shorter officer locked eyes with me and blushed furiously before looking away.

The taller one finally spoke, “Good evening Miss. We will be your escorts for the night. If you wouldn’t mind following us, we have a speeder waiting to take us to the venue.”

I smiled at the officer, “Thank you, I appreciate it. If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, I’ll finish up and be out in a second.”

He nodded and signaled to the other man. They stepped outside, and I immediately pulled Ahni, Talle, and Kaia into a big hug. “Thank you all for your help and for being my friends; you make this so much more bearable. I’ll see you when I get back tonight.”

After a few seconds, we broke apart and finished our goodbyes. I smiled at my friends one last time before walking out of the room to join the officers.

________________________________________________

Chapter 2: Aria

Orchestra tuning: The Imperial March (Glory of the Empire)

Lyra’s final song: Roméo et Juliette, CG 9 Act 1: “Ah, je veux vivre danse ce rève” sung by Aida Garifullina

*TW* brief Attempted assault/non-con towards the end of the chapter

The officers outside of my door stood so close that I almost ran headfirst into the taller one when I stepped out.

“Apologies, Miss, we thought you’d be a little longer,” the man managed as he smoothly sidestepped me before acknowledging his previous blunder, “It also seems like we’ve forgotten to introduce ourselves.”

He briefly paused to take his place beside his partner before continuing. “My name is Captain Dreycolt, and this is Lieutenant Arkmad. It’s an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance and we both actually have you to thank for our presence at the Masquerade tonight.”

Arkmad, who was still noticeably red in the face, nodded sagely. “None of the higher-ranking officers wanted to be stuck with a job at the party; however, the rest of us were fighting to even be included. We happened to fall at the perfect place on the pecking order,” he smiled slyly.

I raised a single eyebrow at Arkmad and gave him my most saccharine smile, “Well, I’m glad that this will be an enjoyable job for you, even though you’re stuck with me.”

His face flushed several shades deeper, and he started to stammer. “M-My apologies M-Miss. I n-never meant to imply….”

Dreycolt promptly tapped him on the shoulder to cut him off before turning back to me and smoothly taking my hand. In one fluid motion, he leaned forward, slowly raised it to his lips, and gallantly kissed the top of my hand. He smiled up at me through lowered lashes, “However, any job that is this beautiful couldn’t possibly be so bad.”

Now it was my turn to blush and I prayed the mask hid most of it because Dreycolt was definitely an attractive man. His caramel-colored hair was neatly trimmed with darker eyebrows and eyelashes framing his warm amber eyes. The uniform he wore fit him exceptionally well, and the slight stubble on his chin tickled my hand as he pressed his lips to it. After what felt like an eternity, he released his grip, and my hand returned to my side.

There was no doubt Dreycolt’s distraction from his lieutenant’s blunder had worked as intended. I could tell he knew as much from the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You flatter me, Captain. If all Imperial officers are as pleasant as you, perhaps tonight will be more enjoyable than I expected.”

Of course, all officers aren’t as kind or practiced in flattery, I thought darkly. These two seem bearable enough to talk to, so I’m at least grateful for that. After all, they’ll be keeping me company for most of the night when I’m not on the stage.

His annoyance at the situation briefly flashed in Arkmad’s eyes before he cleared his throat. He did not seem to enjoy being sidelined for his misstep.

“We should be on our way by now,” he chided. “The airspeeder has priority clearance to travel outside of normal traffic lanes, but I don’t want to explain why the Empire’s star performer is late for her practice time with the orchestra.”

He was, of course, right. Dreycolt jokingly bowed and gestured out into the hallway. “Lead the way, Miss.”

With the Captain and Lieutenant flanking me, I walked through the twisting hallways of the building towards the balcony where our airspeeder was docked.

I was still somewhat dreading the Masquerade, but at least the ride would be pleasant and I would even get to see the sky again. It sounded like such a small thing to enjoy, but coming from Ero to Coruscant was a massive shock in so many ways. I could always see the sky and the stars glittering at night in the Outer Rim but Coruscant was a completely different story.

Though my apartment was beautiful, it was nowhere near the skyline. I played an important role, but it was definitely not important enough for me to live among the rich and powerful. The towering buildings above me kept all traces of natural light from finding my little room, and while artificial light was better than living in the dark, it held no comparison to the real thing.

When we reached the airspeeder, Dreycolt jumped into the driver’s seat, and Arkmad helped me into the back before taking his place in the seat beside him. At the press of a button, a smooth, clear dome slid overhead and enclosed the craft.

I couldn’t resist making a joke. “For both your sakes, I’m glad there’s a roof. You would have to deal with my very unhappy hairstylist if her work was ruined.”

Dreycolt let out a deep-chested laugh, and even Arkmad’s stormy facade cracked into a smile before the airspeeder pulled away from the building, and we were finally on our way.

Since I was expected to be at the venue early to rehearse, night had not yet taken over the cityscape. The sky was cloudy as usual, but light still fell to glisten and reflect across the tops of the tallest buildings. The view was absolutely breathtaking.

I all but shoved my face against the clear dome to take in all of the incredible scenes spread out below. Thousands of speeders, taxis, and transports wove around the many buildings, each with a different purpose and destination. I was beyond captivated by all the people and their freedom to go wherever they pleased, whenever they wanted to.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at one of the most palatial homes on the highest level I had ever seen. Dreycolt stopped the speeder at the balcony, although calling it a balcony was a massive understatement, and Arkmad helped me out onto the landing. I had become accustomed to the splendor displayed by the most influential Imperials, but this was on another level entirely.

An enormous garden lay spread out beyond the balcony’s opulent landing pad. The path we walked down extended its way throughout the entirety of the grounds and wrapped around a massive central fountain before it continued up into a set of stairs that I could only guess led to the main ballroom.

Statues depicting the most famous Imperial victories lined both sides of the walkway, which eventually branched off to different garden sections on each side. Upon closer inspection, the central fountain proudly displayed the Imperial Crest carved into stone so dark it could’ve been mistaken for a solid shadow.

Every single hedge, bush, or flower we could see was maintained to standards of perfection that would impress even the Admiralty of the Imperial Navy. The sweet scent of the many exotic flowers lingered in the air, and the sounds of water trickling from the fountain made the garden almost seem peaceful.

Dreycolt let out a low whistle that made both the lieutenant and I jump. Evidently, he had passed the speeder off to another officer while we were distracted. “Stars. I had heard the constant squabbling over who would get to host led to an amazing result, but this is insane.”

Arkmad nodded, “Someone told me the Emperor personally picked the host and venue. I have no idea who was picked, but they certainly did an outstanding job with the preparations.”

“I wish I were able to walk around,” I sighed wistfully. “It’s been years since I’ve been in a real garden.”

Dreycolt smiled, “Well, Miss, perhaps after your performance, we can arrange that.”

The grin that crept across my face was hard to hide as that simple thought became all of the encouragement I needed to get through the night. As the three of us began the walk to the ballroom, I realized that whoever had designed the path had done so with women’s shoes in mind, as it was completely smooth and comfortable to walk on. Kriffing hell, they really thought of it all.

Before long, we reached the top of the stairs and entered the ballroom. I didn’t think anything would outshine the garden, but I was so very very wrong. The garden was the pinnacle of control and order, but the ballroom exuded absolute elegance.

As we reached the top of the stairs, another officer was waiting to announce our arrival, but I was so captivated by my surroundings that I barely heard what he said. Beyond him was the main dance floor. It looked to be made out of the same dark stone as the fountain, but it was polished so thoroughly you could easily see your reflection looking back at you if you looked down. At the far end of the room, a small but wide set of stairs led up to the stage where the orchestra was busily setting up. More stairs just inside the entrance led to the upper floor, which was filled with tables draped in brilliant white cloths for people to sit and enjoy the spectacle of the dancing below them. A massive, crystalline chandelier hung over the ballroom and blood-red sashes decorated the balconies.

There was so much more to see, but, unfortunately, I wasn’t there to spectate.

As I walked up to the stage, I stopped to greet the conductor of the orchestra; Skath Farri was an old friend from the conservatory where I had trained. He was invited to Coruscant for his considerable talents and was never permitted to leave. Now, he conducted the Imperial Orchestra. No one could know our relationship was anything more than professional, or we’d never see each other again.

“Ly! You look gorgeous, my dear.” He greeted me with the usual platonic kiss on the cheek and inconspicuous wink. “Are you ready to shine tonight?”

That was his unique way of checking in on me. He was very aware that I had never entirely given my voice, or heart, to the Empire. I followed orders and sang the songs they wanted, but the emotion that drove my greatest performances was still in the Outer Rim. There was a marked difference between my performances here and Ero, but only someone like Skath would ever notice. I still played my part of the obedient songbird, but I refused to give them all of me.

I smiled back at him. “Just about as ready as I’ll ever be. They sent me a rather impressive list of everything I’m to perform tonight. At the very least, I came prepared.”

Skath just smiled knowingly before he shooed me onto the stage to begin warming up with the orchestra. Time seemed to stop as I rehearsed, but before long, the guests started to arrive and I was sent over to wait in my spot in the backstage wings until it was time to perform.

I could only see the stage, but I heard names, both familiar and not, being announced upon their entrance. The ballroom began to fill with voices as the guests trickled in. All of a sudden, a musical cue played, and the room went deathly silent. A ghostly hologram flickered to life in the center of the stage, and the shadowy form of the Emperor appeared.

“Welcome, my friends. I trust you will all enjoy tonight as a celebration worthy of our great Empire.” He paused for applause before continuing. “Now, it is my wish that you use this time to reflect on the victories that brought us to this moment. I assure you there will be many more in the future.”

The Emperor stood for even more cheering before holding up his hand to silence the crowd. “Now, let my Masquerade begin!”

His hologram flickered slightly before disappearing altogether as the lights dimmed, cuing me to get on stage. I walked out to stand in the center of the stage, and as soon as I reached my place, the lights slowly returned to their former brilliance.

I was no stranger to performing, but having every single Imperial in the room staring at me was enough to give me butterflies in my stomach. Thankfully, before they could settle in, Skath cued the orchestra to begin with a flick of his baton. The opening notes of the first piece, a current favorite on Coruscant, swelled to life, and I began to sing.

Almost immediately, the officers and politicians turned to their spouses or began to venture off in search of a dance partner. The crowded dance floor began to clear slightly, as others had no interest in dancing and were only there to make connections. The first song ended with tremendous applause, and I began the second. You can do this. Just take it one piece at a time.

By now, I was calm enough to enjoy myself and to watch the dancing and it quickly became apparent that everyone in attendance had tried their best to impress. The ladies wore beautiful, elaborate dresses made out of the best materials and representing the latest fashions from every corner of the Empire. Politicians displayed the most richly colored and finely tailored clothing they owned and Imperial officers were in their usual dress uniforms, but no one was seen without a mask.

There were all kinds of masks on display. Some were crafted entirely from gems or precious materials to show off resources from their home planet. Others pulled designs from legendary animals or myths. There were even some covered in exotic feathers or flowers, but every mask was distinctive in its own way.

Hours passed as I continued to sing. Slowly but surely, I made my way through the extensive list of songs on the program until only one remained. The last song required using a specialized instrument, so I retreated to the wings for some water while it was being set up.

Suddenly, Skath appeared and sprinted towards me. He spun me around to face him fully, and I was in shock at how frazzled he looked. Even his voice was strained. “Lyra, you have to trust me. I have no idea who asked for this, but they were important enough to change the final song we planned. Every member of the orchestra was given the new sheet music, and a stand was set out for you.”

“They want me to sight-read a piece on a night as important as this?!” I gasped indignantly at the thought.

Skath’s face was grim. “No. You’ll know it, but you won’t be happy about it. We don’t have any time left, so we’ve got to get back on stage. For what it’s worth….. I’m so sorry.”

My stomach sank. If he was this upset… I had no idea what to expect. However, there was no choice but to walk back to my place on stage and pretend nothing had even happened. With every step, the sinking feeling in my stomach grew.

It was so much worse than I ever could’ve expected. There was no way anyone here besides Skath should know about this song, but here it was in front of me. It was my favorite piece of music and the only one I’d sworn to keep from the Empire forever. The piece that had been the star of my first major performance on Ero after I left the conservatory.

Before I could even finish my thought, the orchestra cued up. The first few notes began, and every single one of them felt like a knife to the heart. My muscle memory kicked in, and before I even knew it, I was singing.

Thoughts flew through my head while I choked my way through the opening verse. What would I do? Do I keep my promise and hold back, or do I seize the chance I was forced into and truly sing from my heart? Memories of Ero, my family, and my friends all returned as the song continued. My voice began to flow over the music as I made it my own. I remembered my father’s smile and how proud he’d been of me for my music.

Courage suddenly coursed through me like liquid fire. I’d show every kriffing Imperial here what a daughter of the Outer Rim was truly capable of! I was wrong to hold back my emotions before. They could take me, bring me to this place, and shove me on a stage, but they could never control my voice. The Empire wanted me to be their emotionless puppet. My voice wasn’t exactly quiet before, but now it rose to fill the entire ballroom. I was going to burn myself into the mind of every Imperial present. Whoever requested this song would not see me subdued; they would see me triumphant. I poured every ounce of bottled-up emotion into my music, and my voice soared. Then, I had sung the final note, and it was all over.

You could’ve heard a code cylinder drop in the ballroom after the orchestra finished. The dancing had all but stopped, and people were leaning over the balcony to watch me. I curtsied, preparing to exit the stage and receive whatever punishment was in store for kriffing up the Masquerade, but then the thunderous applause began.

I kept my curtsy for as long as possible before my knees started to buckle. Everything left in me had gone into the song, and I barely made it into the wings before I collapsed. Fortunately, Captain Dreycolt was there to catch me before I hit the floor.

I smiled weakly at him. “Since the orchestra is taking it from here, now might be a good time for me to get some fresh air.”

He grabbed Arkmad, and together they helped me out one of the side doors into the garden. I didn’t want to be seen in my weakened state, but thankfully the garden was empty. Most people seemed to be still dancing or otherwise occupied. Those that were in the garden didn’t appear to have ventured this far.

Dreycolt stopped and pointed at the hedge maze, “There’s a small sitting area in the middle. The only way in or out is through the maze. Why don’t we take you to it so you can rest? Arkmad and I will stand at the entrance and exit to make sure you aren’t bothered.”

I had no complaints; the idea sounded fantastic. We made our way through the maze until we reached the center. It was small and only had enough room for a bench, but it was paradise to me. Arkmad helped me onto the bench before making his way to the exit. Dreycolt gave me one last worried glance, turned around, and headed back towards the entrance. The crisp night air felt wonderful on my face, and I began to relax. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and started to feel normal again.

The sudden sound of footsteps startled me. Assuming it was Dreycolt or Arkmad, I rose to meet them. For the second time that night, I was profoundly incorrect. A cold, sly voice broke the silence as the face that haunted my dreams stepped into the area. “Hello, Lyra. I bet you thought you’d never see me again.”

Icy fear washed over me as I was thrown into complete shock. Standing in front of me was Girerd Bost, the captain that took me from my home and attempted to violate me in every way possible. The starlight shone on his face, illuminating his narrow, glacial eyes and the nasty scar to the right of them. I hissed at him, “Captain Bost, what an unpleasant surprise.” I gestured to his scar, “It’s a real shame that didn’t heal better.”

He had the decency to look hurt by my cutting words as he moved his pale hair to the side and softly traced the scar. “Unfortunately for you, it’s Commodore Bost now.”

Before I could even blink, he lunged at me, grabbed me by the throat, and shoved me down onto the bench. Bost leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “Those two boys waiting for you were certainly brave. They tried to argue with me, but they couldn’t disobey a direct order from a Commodore no matter how much they wanted to.”

He paused briefly to trace his other gloved hand over my face. His touch revolted me and made my skin crawl; he seemed to take pleasure in my discomfort before continuing, “Now, there’s no one nearby to interrupt us…”

At that moment, he made the mistake of stroking my lips. It was my turn to lunge forward, and I bit down on his hand hard. Bost screamed and released my throat to grab his bleeding fingers. I leapt up from the bench and bolted past him, sprinting as fast as possible towards the maze’s entrance and praying that I wouldn’t hit a dead end. He was chasing me by this point, screaming obscenities and threats of what he would do to me. Finally, an opening in the hedges appeared. I glanced behind me to see if Bost was close behind, but as soon as I turned my head, I suddenly collided with a very large, solid thing.

The hedges made it way too dark for me to see, but from the soft grunt I heard during the collision, it was another man. I recoiled backward defensively as Bost rounded the corner. The mysterious man glanced at him, looked back at me, and seemed to judge the situation quickly. He swiftly stepped in front of me to block Bost’s path. At this point, all my dignity flew out the window, and I hid behind his tall figure. I just had to trust fate that I was better off with him than with the Commodore. In contrast to Bost’s loud cursing, the other man’s voice was impossibly soft and collected when he spoke. “Commodore, I believe this woman would like to be left alone.”

Still distracted by his hand, Bost howled, “Just who do you think you…..”. He looked up at the man and abruptly shut his mouth. Before he could re-open it, my unknown hero spoke again. This time his voice had a definite edge, and an unrecognizable accent slightly marred his words.

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #thrawn fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #also on ao3 #star wars rebels #star wars the clone wars #star wars legends #Thrawn x oc #mitt'raw'nuruodo

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jadethest0ne · 3 years

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In need of Refueling, Chapter 10 - Extinguished

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2060

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: Start of Act 2 of this fic ;3

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

The world is hazy and hot, as if the heat is distorting the world around him. And yet Red Son feels ice in his heart, reaching out from his center like slowly forming cracks on a frozen lake. He looks up to see his father, looking at him with disappointment. He shakes his head and turns his back to him. Red Son reaches out his hand and calls to his father. He made a mistake, messed everything up, but that doesn’t mean that his father would leave him. Would he? A desperate ache takes hold of his chest and squeezes the words forming in his throat as he tries to call out. The distorted world blurs into something unrecognizable and covers Red Son in darkness.

Red Son slowly becomes aware of things little by little at first - the scent of something herbal, something soft and fuzzy brushing against his cheek. But a sting of pain or shiver running up his spine wipes the sensations away like smudged marker on a whiteboard.

Eventually he gets frustrated at the lack of coherency that his surroundings are giving him. There’s an itch tickling the area where his ear meets his neck, so he focuses on that and tries to pull himself into consciousness. A pounding headache greets him, and a feeling of being weighed down makes the process slow. He might’ve fallen asleep and woken up again in his attempts. It’s hard to tell. He tries to move his head, and both the headache and the tickling sensation becomes stronger. He focuses on the latter sensation, its annoyance being the fuel he needs to wake him up further. He tries to move to scratch the itch, but something stops his left arm. It feels tied down and won’t move from its position on his chest. A throb stabs at him in both his arm and his sides when he tries to force it to move.

He lets out a pained groan and finally opens his eyes. Though the room he is in is not particularly lit, the light that shines through some windows causes him to squint at the glint of sun. A shiver trembles through his body and despite the light hurting his eyes, he wishes the sun would cast its rays on him more directly because he realizes he is freezing. That is despite the heavy blankets that are pulled over him, which he now understands to be the cause of the weighed down sensation he was feeling. He is laying down in a bed in an unknown location. He blinks and looks around the room he is in. It’s bathed in blues, with some green plants dotted around the place giving it an almost sea-garden feel. And it is filled with cats. A couple bold ones that were laying on the edge of the bed he is in get up and inch towards him.

The feeling of being observed by the cats and the dawning that he does not know where he is jolts him awake suddenly and he shifts to sit up. A vicegrip squeezes around his arm and chest in this motion. He’s hurt. He groans loudly and hunches over slightly holding his middle with his free hand. He notices that his right hand is bandaged, and the left arm is wrapped in something stiff with a secondary cloth strapping it to his body, making his left arm and shoulder practically immobile. Most of his exposed skin seems to have bandages as well. What happened? Flashes of the confrontation he had with The Monkey King and then his father sweep across his vision. His father attacked him. Hurt him. No, it wasn’t his father’s fault, it was his own fault. His father had been overcome by the very fire he wielded. He tugs at his shirt with his free hand, anxiously. The fabric feels wrong and he further notices that he is not in his usual clothes and is instead in what looks like a loose pinkish-red robe. He was put in different clothes?

A curious meow snaps Red Son’s attention away from his thoughts. One of the cats, a blueish one with a red tuft of fur on its head, had gotten very close to him. He pulls away and yelps, partially in surprise, and partially in pain. The cat, likewise does a little jump, and walks back a few steps before yowling much more loudly behind its shoulder.

Its call seemingly summons someone, as a booming voice yells from another room, “Coming, Mo! Is he awake?!”

Red Son sucks a breath in as a very large, blue-skinned man with a bright orange mohawk steps into view. He recognizes him as one of the Noodle Boy’s companions. It’s the giant blue one, who is very muscular, with hands that look like they could easily wrap around his head and crush him. He’d never come up against this man in a close fight and didn’t know what he was capable of, but he didn’t want to stick around to find out. Instinct pushes him to bolt.

He scrambles the best he can with one free arm and a stiff and injured body to the side of the bed farthest away from the man. He can hear him saying something about ‘Don’t move or you’ll make your injuries worse,’ but he paid them no attention. He hears the large footsteps come closer and he desperately tries to get out of bed. His bare feet touch a too cold floor and another shiver wracks through his body, hitting every sore spot on the way. When he tries to put weight on his legs, they jiggle, and between that and what feels like a knife stabbing at his right ankle it causes his knees to buckle and he falls to the floor in a painful heap.

“Oh dear,” comes the voice of the Blue One as Red Son hears him shift around the bed.

He has to get up! Red Son ignores the pounding in his head and grits his teeth, as he uses the leverage of the bed to right himself. But his feet do not listen to him, and all he can do is push himself farther into the small space between the bed and the wall. The only escape on the end of the bed has been filled in by the hulking form of his enemy. “Let me help.” The large blue skinned man reaches out to Red Son, who shrinks back.

He’s hurt and can’t stand, can barely move, and being backed up between the bed and the wall, he has the distinct feeling of being cornered. His whole body is trembling in a way that he can’t stop as the world seems to box him in. He pushes his back against the wall, wishing he could just disappear into it, and squints his eyes shut. With as much strength he can muster he yells, trying to keep the fear and desperation out of his voice, “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

A moment passes. When no presence is felt, he cautiously opens his eyes and looks up. He is surprised to see that his shout was heeded and that the large man has pulled his hands away. The man has a look of almost hurt, and a bit of pity on his face. Red Son appreciates neither.

“I’m sorry,” says the Blue One. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not hurt.”

Red Son breathes for a moment, looking the large man up and down. He has knelt down in the gap between the bed and the wall, still blocking Red Son’s exit, but leaving him ample space so that the room feels less oppressive.

“H-hurt…?” Red Son says around a tremble. “O-of course I’m hurt! Don’t you see the bandages, you buffoon!” He tugs absently at the blanket that is hanging part-way off the bed.

“Well, yes I suppose that is a given. I-uh I’m the one who bandaged you. Your other shirt was kinda ripped up so I gave you a spare robe. I hope that’s okay…?” the Blue One says, almost sheepishly.

Red Son manages to tug the blanket off of the bed and pulls it around himself as best he can in the somewhat cramped space. “Well, you could’ve given me something warmer, do you always keep your little shack so freezing cold?!” he says with a sneer, while trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

The man looks almost surprised and looks like he’s about to contradict, but instead says, “Are you cold? I could get you some warm tea to drink!”

Before Red Son can respond, the man sweeps out of the room leaving him to sit there, with his mouth partially hanging open.

Red Son wonders what his plan is. What was the big guy up to? He supposes he could just leave if he wanted. If he could actually stand that is. He looks around and some other curious cats have started crowding around him.

“Go away!” he yells at them angrily. At his yell, he notices something is off. Normally during his outbursts, his hair would flair up. That reminded him of the tickling sensation from earlier. He moves his hand to the itchy spot and finds that his hair is there. Lying flat against his head and draped over his shoulders and down his back. No longer in its usual pony-tail and flickering with his emotions. Before he can dwell on that, the Blue One has entered the room again.

“Now now, kitties, he doesn’t like it when you get too close, so give him space,” the Blue One admonishes the cats. They weave in between his legs, and the man gracefully balances his form around them while carrying a teapot and mug. He places the mug on a tray, and scoots the tray across the floor to Red Son, careful to not get close.

Red Son eyes the green liquid and the blue man, and cautiously picks up the mug. But instead of taking a sip, he holds it close to him, greedily trying to embrace the warmth.

And that’s when he notices something strange again.

Red Son can’t feel it.

Yes, he can physically feel the cup and the heat on his skin with his hands wrapped around it. But he can’t feel the warmth. Not really. Not with his powers. Not with his whole self. He can’t feel the ebb and flow of the steam that wafts out of the tea. Nor the pulsing of the energy from the warm liquid.

He tries to reach out with his powers and interact with the heat. Pull it in, make it stronger, do something, but he realizes that he can’t. Nothing happens. Shakily taking in a breath, he tries to activate his flames. He commands sparks to dance on his fingers. They do not. He squints his eyes and tries to make his hair flare up like it usually does with his abilities. But instead it continues to lay limply on his shoulders. He attempts to conjure heat from his center in hopes of warming himself up. But it doesn’t work.

He is cold. He feels empty. And it is as if a part of him is cut off from a section of the world that he used to participate in.

He can’t do anything.

He swallows thickly and grinds his teeth. His breaths pick up and his shoulders shudder. He holds the cup in a white-knuckled grip, before angrily throwing it across the floor. Even that motion has no real power behind it, and the mug thunks anticlimactically on the ground, chipping the edge slightly and causing the still warm liquid inside to dribble out lazily across the floor. He sees the steam and is reminded that that is all he can do. Only watch. Not control.

The blue stranger fusses about the spilt liquid and goes about cleaning it up, but Red Son pays him no mind. Instead, he pulls at the blankets around him and buries his face in the covers. It’s too much. The cold. The pain. The deep loss suddenly consuming him. His head feels fuzzy, and his chest is stabbed with pain with each shuddering, fast-paced breath. These sensations buzz together until they take over his entire being and everything becomes void.

start || <– previous // next –>

#inor #in need of refueling #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk fanfic #fanfiction #red son #sandy #injury #recovery #panic attacks #my writing #jadethest0ne

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erazonpo3 · 4 years

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(This is a written collaboration between myself and Hemlock/pathygen in the ‘Cassandra’s Tangled Adventure’ AU verse, featuring our characters Alphecca and Violante. This was just a fun little back-and-forth with our two villains set in the period in which Violante has possession of Alphecca’s phylactery.

The formatting is based on our replies, it was really fun to get to write together and watch Violante flex on Alphecca. I’d recommend reading it on my blog’s desktop page for the formatting)

The Eagle and The Mole

Ever since her rebirth in flame and ash, Alphecca hasn’t known the icy grip of cold; yet Countess Violante’s chateau inspires it in her bones. It’s a monument of stone, glass, and drapery, and at this time of night the torchlight in the hallways are extinguished; malingerers are unwelcome. Even the ever-present ache in her chest takes its leave here, something she would have been thankful for if it weren’t Violante’s doing. Her soul burned like a dying star, but since her phylactery fell into Violante’s hands all she has known is its absence— numb apathy— the closest thing she knows to cold.

She’s sure to school her features before entering Violante’s parlour, smoothing out the notch between her eyebrows and the curl of her lips that may as well have been sculpted into her flesh these days. Trinket shrieks at her as she walks past, aggrieved that her delicious bones are today wrapped in the illusion of skin and, on top of that, a stupid uniform. It’s stiff and it pinches in ways she can’t feel but is nonetheless frustrated by, and whenever she catches her reflection in the silverware she can’t help but grimace at the militant emblems and pageantry she advertises. All that’s missing from her marionette costume is the strings.

The Countess is waiting for her as expected, perched perfectly poised on the gaudy piece of furniture she likes to pretend is a throne. She resists the urge to sneer at the pretentious display, if only because Violante would find it so amusing.

“I’m back,” she announces flatly, absently picking at the cuff of her jacket.

“Yes, I noticed.” Violante replies, crystal and calm as a winter morning.

The countess has a quill pinched between her fingers; sharp motions carry the crimson plume across the page laid out in front of her, scratching. The chamber swallows sound and bounces it back. Dim moonlight ekes through tall, arched windows of blue stained glass, and casts a watery pattern against the polished floor.

Violante does not look up at the dead woman.

A minute and a half passes before she finally caps the tiny, neat scrawl on the parchment with a looping signature, rolls it into a neat cylinder, and sets it aside. The feathered end of the quill finds its way between her lips, ponderously. She tilts her head up and her smile is delicate. There’s something of a spider in it.

“That certainly took you long enough. One little village could hardly have been all the effort.” The Countess of Solanales stands with a fluid motion, and folds her arms loosely across her chest. A cigarette smolders in it’s holder on the edge of the desk, filling the room with an oily, herbal smell. She inspects Alpchecca like one might a mannequin stuck in a display, lips pursed.

“Well, at least you kept everything in order this time. See? You can look nice. I knew the collar would be a nice touch. The color accents your eyes, now that you have them in.”

Trinket croaks from her perch. The monochrome vulture returns to preening, bored now that the arguably edible bits of the lich aren’t on display. Violante leans back against the edge of her gilded seat. “So how did it go? Did you make any friends?”

This time Alphecca doesn’t withhold the grimace that curls back her lip to expose a yellowed canine. She’s aware of the way the moonlight makes her pale skin seem especially waxy and sallow, which typically serves to unnerve humans- all save the Countess. Violante’s eyes glitter like a cut diamond as she appraises her, and Alphecca forces her gaze away in a show of deliberate disregard. She stares through the blue washed windowpane to speak to the waxing moon, but keeps an eye on Violante’s figure in her periphery.

“I was just being thorough, I’m sure you can appreciate that. No stone left unturned, no building left standing, everything razed just right, just for you,” she says, flashing Violante a quick, sardonic smirk before returning her gaze to the window. “I don’t imagine you’ll have much of a problem marching your people down there and claiming a new pile of dirt, or whatever it is you do with the ashes. There’s nothing left.”

The moon’s bright glow begins to burn a spot into her vision, but facing the window makes it easier for her to keep her face blank. Her excursion today would be considered a success by Violante’s standards, but she had been sure to cause enough of a racket as she tore through the streets that most villagers had ample time to flee before she tore into the place. If they couldn’t escape even after all the time she gave them, well, Cassandra can’t say she didn’t try.

Under the scrutiny she can’t help but scratch at the briarthorn collar, and she chances another glance back at Violante.

“Thoughtful. I can’t say I have much use for more dirt than I already seem to own, but,” Violante gestures and Trinket stretches her neck. The vulture flaps off the stand and onto the desk with a crooked hop, and remains still while the countess fastens the scroll to her leg. “I’m sure whoever is left will be happy to accept all the aid Solanales is willing to provide, in the wake of their unfortunate devastation.”

Eyes glittering, she crooks a gloved finger under the large bird’s beak and hums. “The world is lousy with monsters, after all.”

And in the end, it was only a barrier town. But every little bit counts, every scrap of seizure. Scraps still. But these were things that couldn’t be rushed. Or shouldn’t have been, if she had been able to stick to her original schedule. Plans were important, but the ability to adapt to a situation was worth even more. Put attention in the right places, stress on the right joints, poison in the right tea.

Or get creative, and toss a skeleton into a henhouse. Ho hum.

“Go on.” Violante says to the bird. Trinket makes a clicking noise low in her throat, and takes off without a backwards glance at Alphecca, winging towards some high and hidden exit. Violante watches her go in silence. She doesn’t expect it will take long for a response, in some capacity, but she doesn’t really plan to wait for one either. Aldara is out in the field somewhere, hopefully stalking her other quarry, but there’s a decent chance both situations will muddle together eventually.

“Now, what to do with you?” Violante turns back to face the dead woman, who looks hilariously unsure. It’s already late, and she needs to keep some space between the raids, as she creeps them closer to the borders of the Iron Kingdom.

Alphecca scowls at the vulture’s retreating form, however glad she’d normally be to see it leave. With Trinket gone, only the two of them remain. It didn’t exactly make for a good buffer, yet in the leering bird’s absence the room tightens with intimacy. Violante and intimacy are her two least favourite things, and combined they manifest as the bane of her existence. The only thing that can make it worse is Violante’s voyeuristic shadow who is thankfully out on her master’s orders tonight, likely committing her own fill of atrocities.

The Countess’ icy veneer betrays nothing of her intentions. In a game where information is everything, Alphecca knows she’s at a woeful disadvantage. If she tries fishing, Violante will know what she’s doing the minute she speaks, no matter how vague or disinterested she comes across— but she might be indulged. It begs the question of whether it’s better to stumble around blindly or sniff out a trail she can’t trust. Either way, she needs to say something- the longer she concedes to silence, the further the scales tip in Violante’s favour.

“How about giving these old bones a rest? You’ll find a siesta does wonderful things for the constitution,” she quips. “I’m assuming you don’t want to cause too much of a stir, anyhow,” she adds, unable to deny the temptation of the gamble. Now she forces herself to keep her eyes trained on the Countess, and settles into a smirk.

“You’re dead, you don’t have a constitution,” Violante drawls.

She glances away towards the window, the picture of disinterest, thinking. Ghostly evening light blankets the room, and flows over the silent collection of statues and armor bordering the walls, the curtained archways. Rooting out the location of the lich’s phylactery had been more of an effort of time and money than anything else. She had a number of contacts stretched over the continent, from tomb takers to Morcant to disgruntled former servants who had once swept the halls of the Spire. The crumbling little ruin of a shrine had seemed like a forgotten afterthought, nestled on the edge of an icy valley north of Ingvarr. The pendant had been wrapped in hay and rue. The plain little goat skull carved into the stone that boxed it had worn smooth with time. It was imagery that had become much more frequent among the information she lately received. So many old stories seemed to be pulling themselves up out of the grave these days. Even keeping the new ones in the ground was proving to be a challenge.

No one died like they used to. The lich had certainly been involved in that most recent of frustrations.

Although, maybe, her decision to poison Cassandra had been a little hasty. She had maybe been a little angry. A little perturbed. Corpses and memories were generally less useful than breathing attendants, even if they were less trouble. People were so stubborn. Still, even there the lich might prove..useful. If that was the way things shook out in the end.

“Besides, we both know rest isn’t really in your cards.” The countess says, stepping down away from the desk, towards Alphecca. Reaching up, she adjusts the collar the lich keeps fiddling with, smooths down the epaulettes on her shoulders. The illusion of flesh truly was impressive. Almost as much as the facade of confidence. “You know, I once heard that a long life eventually deprives you of optimism. They also say that time heals all wounds. People never seem to be able to make up their minds about just how sad they think they’re supposed to be.”

Alphecca wraps her grimace up into a wry grin, though the fury in her eyes burns a palpable heat in the gelid room. Violante ignores said look as she smooths out the creases in her uniform, abusing all sentiment of personal space. The woman isn’t physically intimidating in the slightest; even wearing stilettos Alphecca has to look down her nose at her. But the proximity is unnerving. If her physical body is merely an extension of her soul, then Violante owns both, and she isn’t shy about making it known— so Alphecca does her best to ignore it, training her eyes on the wall in front of her instead of the head of perfectly coiffed curls only a breath away and the nails that cross her clavicle to smooth over her shoulders.

“In my experience, more time is just an avenue for more procrastination,” she admits. It’s the truth, or at least it’s her truth, and there’s no harm in admitting it- the information has no value to Violante. If the Countess got her claws on immortality, the last thing anyone should be concerned with is if she were happy or sad.

“People also say that destroying people’s lives and livelihoods won’t make you happy, but we both know that’s not true,” she adds. She hasn’t actually heard anyone say that, but it’s one of those unspoken things- and it’s wrong. Schadenfreude and victory are one hell of a cocktail.

“A common adage, is that?” Violante hums, stepping back. “Stagnation is hideous. And regret is a waste of energy. If you’ve really wasted all this time waiting for a death that’s never going to come, then it’s fortunate I came along to make better use of your… afterlife.” She tilts her head. “Especially considering that I found you rooting around in a cave, talking to bones. I can’t imagine skeletons make for very good conversation.”

For once, Alphecca isn’t bothered by the barb. She wastes her time however she pleases, spending her years harassing new villages until she gets bored and moves on, or searching for new fossils to reanimate, playing in the dirt. She knows she’s a disappointment but that’s how she’s come to like it— fuelled by the spite of those more ambitious than her who have to watch her gnaw on the unending life they can’t have. That is, until Violante took it from her.

With more distance between them now, Alphecca releases a breath; it’s unnecessary, but calming all the same.

“They make better company than your pets, at least,” she says. They don’t talk back, for one thing, but she’ll keep that part to herself. All the bones she finds have very interesting stories to tell, but unfortunately Violante’s dreadful companions only find them useful for teething.

“Tsk. Oh, kettle.” Violante says, sotto voce. She has very little interest in making any argument about the quality of company Aldara or anyone else brings to her circle. She doesn’t keep them around for their people skills. Mostly. The countess reaches out to tap the bottom of her jaw. “You’re so uncertain for a corpse. You chatter so much for a tool. But if that’s the way you feel…” A thoughtful pause, wintry silence. Violante steps past her, the dark pool of her gown trailing on the floor. “Come.”

“What, you’re not a fan of our stimulating discussions?” Alphecca jeers, cocking her head. Blunt as they are, words are the last weapons she has in this fight, but she turns to follow her nonetheless. She kicks her feet up off the ground to hang a foot in the air to let the click of Violante’s heels echo down the hollow hallways alone, creeping behind her like a spectre.

She’s hesitates, trailing behind at a healthy distance, but she can’t deny her curiosity is piqued.

“I think your talents lie elsewhere.” Violante answers without turning around, wry. The castle is large and cold and strikingly empty of people. There are servants, courtiers, of course, but this late at night the work has gone to ground. Most of them, having been around this long, have learned to work out of sight, or in silence. Violante lifts a low burning candelabra from a table in the tapestried hall, wax dripping into the filagree crevices that tomorrow will be picked clean again before she wakes. The halls stretch on, half covered portraits lining the walls, tall arched windows that continue to leak in cool evening light. Violante takes them down, towards the ground floor, and eventually comes to rest in front of a heavy, ornate door set back far from the main vestibule.

“Wait here.” she commands, and without stopping, the countess takes off down another hall and vanishes around the corner. She returns about ten minutes later, unchanged and smiling. In her hand is a small pouch, dangling with a loop of cord that she drapes around her neck. She nods at the door. “Shall we?”

Alphecca lingers back as she follows Violante through the chateau. She’s no stranger to silence, and she can even appreciate the servants’ scarce presence; humans can be such annoying creatures. However, there’s a hostility that comes with the quiet— an unspoken threat that has butlers and maids scurrying away like rats in the corner of her eye, only daring to move when the Countess strides past.

She halts when instructed, taking the time to inspect the portraits of Violante’s ancestors while she waits. The dim light is no obstacle as she takes in the details, sneering at the pompous Lords and Ladies that line the walls. The different fashion styles over the centuries blend together in her mind, but she recognises the distinct ruffles that predate the Shampanier Era crossing over to the more modern style of headdress, evolving across the row of portraits. They have matching brutal, patrician features and cold eyes, and their arrogance is palpable even through the oils. She wonders if Violante sees them as an inspiration or an embarrassment.

Alphecca drops to her feet when Violante arrives, eyeing the new fashion accessory.

“Ladies first,” she gestures in a parody of an usher, trying to avoid the sense of dread that accompanies the sight of the heavy wooden door.

“True.” Violante says agreeably, placing her gloved hand on the door. In the other she still clutches the flickering candelabra, and the light plays shadows against its surface. The front of it is carved with vines and flowers, mountains and snowflakes. It opens with a heavy grinding sound when she tries the handles, with some effort. Cobwebs stick and pull between the gap, and Violante sneers a little at the dust that collects on her fingertips. A staircase leads down into darkness. It reeks of earth, dry and undisturbed.

Violante’s face remains impassive as she starts down the steps, the click of her heels ringing against the stone. The walls are featureless rock, and roots start to press through the gaps the farther down they travel. Eventually the stairs level out onto a narrow, dark, landing. Violante moves with a caution in the dark that relaxes when she finds the torches set into thick pillars that frame the entrance, and she lights them with the candle flame. Orange light fills the cavern.

“Homey, I imagine.” she says. “But still better than what you were used to.”

It is a tomb, of course. More a mausoleum, seemingly built into the naturally limestone cavern underneath the castle. The roof of the crypt rises up high above the chamber, arched ribs and all angles like the inside of a cathedral. Violante doesn’t pause in her intrusion, gliding down the center aisle with a curious fervor, idly stroking the covered parcel around her neck. She finally stops as they near the back of the chamber, in front of a stone dais that elevates two, long, solid coffins. Side by side, in their lofty place of honor. Violante sets the candles down. She looks back at the lich.

She says, “You’re going to wake them up.”

Violante isn’t wrong to assume that the cavernous underbelly of the castle is more comforting to Alphecca than the bleak architecture and furnishing upstairs, but it’s still far from homely. The crypt is stale and azoic, lacking the warm smell of rot and soil that accompanies her usual hovels. Nonetheless she does feel more at ease here, and it takes the tension out of her shoulders.

“Is this mum and dad? I didn’t really take you for the mournful orphan type,” Alphecca says, her smirk eking into her voice. She approaches the left coffin and slides a hand over the lacquered wood, which is stained with black and ornately carved. The golden filigree is finely engraved and the craftsmanship of the coffin itself is masterful. A thrill runs through her bones; as disinterested as she is in the coffin’s inhabitants, she’s eager to see what bijous and tchotchkes she’ll find inside.

It takes her mind off of Violante’s request. Resurrecting one body, one soul, takes more effort than she is usually willing to expend. Two isn’t out of the question, but it’s going to take time. There are shortcuts she could take-

No. She’ll take all the time she needs.

“I can do it for you, but it’s not going to be quick or easy. I’m assuming you want more than just a couple of braindead puppets, after all,” Alphecca states, glancing carefully at Violante.

Violante watches the dead mingle, the old and the ancient. There’s a stone bench opposite the dais, maybe long ago a place meant for prayer or meeting. The back of it curves up into a chiseled swan’s head, with the beak broken off. She sits, and crosses her legs, eyes lidded, observing Alphecca as she circles the caskets. The lich’s interest is evident, undisguised. She’s being so nice.

“Mmm.” she confirms, very calm. “Lady Fiore and Count Viator. I poisoned them when I was seventeen.”

She draws a finger across the jagged beak of the swan and rubs the grit between her thumb and forefinger. The black fabric of her gloves are already powdered with dust. Idly, she pinches one finger and slips it the long glove off, stretching her hand in the cool, dry air of the crypt. The tips of her fingers are stained purplish-black, even deep under her nails.

“They need to be able to speak, and answer questions truthfully. I’m not especially worried about mobility, but memory is important.” She tilts her head, dark eyes focused on the bone witch. “How long? Describe the process for me.”

Alphecca’s lips twist as Violante confesses to her parents’ murder, but continues to investigate the coffins.

“Well, the process involves bartering with Death, binding the soul to an anchor and then binding said anchor to your will- it’s something that can take months, depending on how long it takes to get the reagents, and that’s just for one soul. Doubling up will save time, but even you don’t have infinite resources,” she explains.

Without asking Alphecca lifts the nearest coffin lid, and lets out an involuntary whoop at the burst of pungent aroma. There’s not much left of the carcass itself, despite what she’s sure was a vigorous embalming. Corpses are meant to return to the earth, and the ones buried above ground have a messier time of trying to find it. Lady Fiore’s robes are completely soiled with corpse juice, but she’s surrounded by a few glinting baubles that could still be disinfected- although she’s sure Violante won’t let her play with them.

“A fresh corpse is always easier to work with, but it’s just as well you kept the remains at all- souls will anchor to their own bodies with less of a fuss,” she says, disregarding all the loopholes that come to mind. With a snap of her fingers Fiore’s bones glow a pale blue, battling the orange torchlight for a moment before it subsides. It’s a basic preservation spell that she uses on all her creatures to protect their bones from the elements, which she hopes Violante will take as a sign of her veracity.

“You’ll find my resources will more than suffice.” Violanate says. “Considering the state of your previous arrangement, and what you’re used to.” Scrounging around in the shadows and the muck couldn’t have been all that profitable for the lich. Procuring things, especially things of an elusive nature, is not usually a problem for her.

The stench that emanates from her mother’s coffin is certainly vile enough. Violante’s nose wrinkles, and she nearly rolls her eyes at the bone witch’s obvious enthusiasm for it. For a moment she has to tilt her head to the side, and she brings the pouch around her neck closer to her face. There’s baby’s breath and rosemary inside: a good dampener, or so she’s been told. The Countess is not unfamiliar with corpses, but they’re usually less decayed, and less in her face. She could have used a stronger perfume.

“Useful little spell.” She says, turning back to face the dais.

And then, “..bartering with death.” Violante drawls, stretching the words out slowly. That has her curiosity piqued. Something about it, a string to tug. “Like it’s a person.”

Alphecca hums absently, neither in agreement or disagreement.

“I suppose we’ll see,” she says. She swipes a thumb over Lady Fiore’s cheekbone, imagining how the muscle would have wrapped across it and how the skin might have sat on top. Her sharp jawline mirrors Violante’s, and she’s willing to bet they shared the same nose. She was no doubt a very attractive woman in her prime, and Alphecca finds herself almost frustrated that she’ll be deliberately prolonging the reconstruction process.

She crosses over to the coffin on the left but her fingers tapdance across the lid, and her head perks up at the mention of Death.

“Well, yeah- okay, she’s not really a person, but she’s the shepherd between this realm and the realm where lost souls are... supposed to go, and you’re not going to get a soul back from the realm of the dead without her noticing,” she explains, smiling at the memory of the spectre. Absently she traces shapes in the dust of the coffin lid as she continues.

“It’s far simpler to make a trade with her than to try and steal one, but that’s still easier said than done.”

Having to watch the lich inspect and handle her parents' remains doesn’t seem to phase the Countess very much. Legs crossed, she sits back on the mourning bench, and rests her chin on the back of her fingers.

“‘She’. You make a trade with death.” Violante repeats, not a question. “What could..death-the-entity possibly want in exchange for a soul?”

There’s a visible sneer on her face at the word soul. It’s not that she doesn’t believe in spectres or spirits: she’s essentially speaking to one, even if it’s trapped in a bone. The concept of anything trying to tell her what to do, even after death, dissatisfies. Even at a young age, playing with her first herbs and poisons and staining her skin, Violante knew that she wasn’t going to go until she was good and ready.

She can guess what the lich might think of her. The many things, every terrible notion. Most she’s probably right about. But Violante has no interest in living forever. Cavorting around for centuries as a moldering corpse isn’t an appealing notion, and it obviously hasn’t done the witch any favours. No. She is going to build something great. Something right, something hers.

In the end, if it is really worthy, it will outlast her.

And if it’s not...well.

Violante hums, “Longing for death is a bit of a cliche, even for you.”

“Depends,” Alphecca shrugs. “Sometimes she asks for help wrangling the ghosts that refuse to let go, or she has a specific soul in mind, or sometimes she just wants a favour to keep in her pocket. There’s always some kind of catch though, because she’s hardly going to ask for something she can get herself.”

Even if she weren’t already planning on delaying the process, she anticipates bargaining for two souls will be the most difficult part. Bartering with Death isn’t exactly something she makes a habit of; she can count on one hand the amount of times she’s made the deal, and every time had brought its own headache. Just the memory of it is enough to make her head hurt, so she turns her attention back to Violante.

“Yeah, well. Even you’d be begging her to come take you after long enough. You and I both know Death can be a mercy,” she says with a smirk, and cracks open dear father’s casket.

Help, promises, wayward souls. “That’s a lot out of death’s reach.” More than one would think, for such a definite force. Violante listens to the dead woman without looking up, thinking, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the velvet pouch dangling from her neck. There is another wave of foul scent, all earth and rot. The sound of heavy stone dragging on stone. Her father had been a count of some notable prowess. He had been good at getting people to listen, and always spoke with confidence. Curt at times, but he shared a warmth with her mother that would have seemed anathema to the traditional Solanales chill, to anyone outside of their family. They were a private people. Violante had loved her parents. She had loved them even when she was putting them in the ground.

“Who said anything about mercy?” The countess murmurs, tilting her head, a silver-dark curl of hair sliding over one side of her face. Wintry, she says, “How long is this going to take you? Approximately, for one body?”

Alphecca rakes a finger down Count Viator’s sternum, making a mental note of his measurements. She’s sure there’s a portrait somewhere in the castle she can look to as a reference for their bodies, which are clearly tall but perhaps wider than their frames let on. Violante’s voice echoes in the cavernous room, yet the words themselves float around in the air. There’s a few trinkets scattered in the coffin, rings and jewels and heirlooms; they’re gaudy and expensive, but far from valuable to the dead. The sudden change in the intonation of Violante’s voice catches her attention, and she only catches the tail end of her question.

“Hm? Oh- well, for one? It’d normally take around a month or so to source all the reagents- meat, ivory, rare herbs and spices and whathaveyou- then somewhere between one to two weeks to build the body itself. After that it really depends on what I need to do to recover the soul,” Alphecca explains, finally dragging her eyes away from the remains.

“And of course, I wouldn’t want to rush perfection.”

“How thoughtful,” Violante drawls. “But they don’t need to be perfect, just functional. Enough to answer what I want to ask of them. You fare well enough without lungs. Or gray matter.” The countess tilts her head again. “They’re going right back in the ground after I’m finished with them.”

Pushing away from the bench, Violante stands with fluid, gossamer grace. Holding one arm loosely tucked around her waist, she climbs the steps and despite the reek, peers slowly into each of the caskets, expression unreadable. Swipes one stained fingers against the dust collected on the stone lip, rubbing.

Almost conversationally, she looks back and says, “Tell me what you need, and you’ll have it within a week. If not sooner. We have the merits of civilization here.” With a surprising amount of ease, Violante leans back against her mother’s grave and lifts herself into a sitting position on the skewed cover, ankles crossed. She smiles, her mouth a sharp, dark slash. “Three weeks, I think, is more than enough time for you to finish the work.”

Very slowly, she lifts the velvet pouch and threads it open. The amulet is heavy, and Violante curls it’s chain delicately around her fingers, thumb hooked under one of the horns. Scarlet light suffuses her from below.

Coy, Violante hums, “If you put your mind to it.”

Alphecca scowls at Count Viator, cursing him for ever procreating.

“If you want a botched job, then fine,” she sneers, bristling at the intrusion on her oasis. The presence of the phylactery is like a sneeze sitting at the back of her nose, painless and yet impossible to ignore. However, the Countess has extended her a favour in the same token, providing her the irritation necessary to redirect her attention elsewhere.

“The souls of the dead don’t tend to like being torn from their peace and shoved back inside their corpses, and the further the vessel is from their actual flesh and blood, the harder it is to attach them. And if a soul doesn’t attach properly, then you’re going to have a very uncooperative, likely half-braindead, pale imitation of your dearly departed loved one. So it’s your call,” Alphecca explains, drumming her fingers on the coffin lid.

It’s a gambit for more time, but the phenomenon of corrupted souls isn’t unheard of. And it’s not exactly something she’s keen on dealing with.

And then there was silence. It was followed by the shrill whistle of a lofty wind, swiftly swallowed by the cavern, sucked down. Above, a jagged crack in the apex of the cave opened up to mountain air and evening sky. Snow-melt had formed thin icicles which dripped with languid precision onto the old stone. There were some places within the cavern where if you listened close enough you could hear the sounds of running water; more runoff that was kept flowing by the warm channels that ran all underneath Solanales. The recessed thermal rivers: mineral rich, were responsible for the health and diversity of the medicinal herbs the county was able to cultivate. Her father had shown her maps, long ago.

Violante regards the lich cooly. The sneer; the constant flow of excuses, the obstinance. There is a moment before she speaks, where the slick consideration in her dark eyes slides towards bored. Just as quickly, the flat stare is replaced with a knifelike flash of malice, penetrative and acute—then a return to hawkish study.

“You’re right,” The countess says smoothly, examining the blemished fingers of her free hand, “it is my call.” She tilts her head, and wrly continues, “..and if I cared about what they liked, I wouldn’t have killed them in the first place.”

The glow from the amulet gives her skin a rosy tincture it doesn’t usually possess. Violante places her empty hand back on the coffin lid behind her, relaxing back into a lounge.

“Alphecca…” her voice is deadly soft. She rarely uses the corpse’s name. She’s never seen much point. The countess peers down at the phylactery, slim fingers curled under the horns and through the chains.

“You know, this really was remarkably easy to find. Time; a few simple exchanges of gold, a barter with a like-minded contact—who will no doubt realise, eventually, the true cost of that information, and likewise, the great loss she would accrue attempting to take it back.”

Calm, easy, her posture is that of a woman relaxing in a parlor; not an arm's reach away from her mother’s seeping skeleton. Violante runs her thumb up the side of the crystal. It’s warm, with a steady, pulse-like thrum.

“That is a part of what it means to have dominion—to have dominance. Laying the foundation. Control over people and their emotions, so that they don’t go spinning them out into actions they haven’t thought over properly. Something always there, in the back of their minds.”

With a sly smile, Violante tilts the amulet. “Like this.” Her fingers tighten, squeeze around the pulse.

“Come here.” she commands.

The Countess’ silence brings the familiar weight of dread, the coils of her contemplation winding and tensing before their inevitable release. The use of her name, soft as it is, is like the snap of a twig; the arrow is coming next, but she has nowhere to run. When Violante speaks, her words are dripping with nightshade, and Alphecca pays less attention to the words as she does those eyes and the way they peel back the illusion of her flesh. How long ago was it that Zhan Tiri had stood in her place, holding the phylactery that they’d created together, swinging it before her like an aberrant hypnotist? The image lingers in her mind, branded into her being, and it burns again now. Violante holds her ransom with equal avarice and even more capriciousness.

She doesn’t fight the command.

One foot drags after the other, pulling her away from Viator’s putrid remains towards his fetid offspring. The ends of her hair dance in the waves of heat that surge from her body, casting her pallid skin in the same glow mirrored in her bottled soul, and her sclera seeps with augural ink. She looks down her nose at the Countess, but stays mute; her glare speaks for itself.

“Oh, that face again,” Violante smiles slyly as the lich draws near. “You looked at me like that the last time you tried to get me to break this. For all that trite dribble about souls, they pack rather nicely into tight spots, hm?” She lifts the phylactery and lets it dangle from her fingers again. The carved crystal twists, shedding ruby light.

Tilting her head, the countess adds, “..though honestly the sheep-theme is a little provincial for my taste.”

From her perch on the coffin lid, she and the lich are almost at eye level. Idly, she taps the curled horns of the amulet against her lips, and takes a moment to inspect the flickering hair, warmed by the unnatural heat in the cold center of the crypt. She’s seen the witch dressed in bone before, skeletal, human then very much not. She hasn’t yet been able to divine whether the flesh is an illusion, or a simulacrum.

“...you know, it’s almost funny,” she says after another moment, musing. Gently, Violante reaches up to take Alphecca’s chin between her fingers, feeling for bone or for the presence of a seam. Without much force, she tilts her face left, then right. “The creature that made you this way got to die before you, didn’t it? Whether it wanted to or not. And even though it’s gone, you’re still here. That’s an impressive act of malice I’m not even sure I could aspire to.”

She brushes a strand of winding hair behind the dead woman’s ear, the fingers of her other hand wrapped around the amulet. They rest there, lingering.

“Mercy,” she hums, “Death. Do you really think that force regards you as anything more than a vague afterthought? Do you know why?”

Close, her eyes are dark and flat. When she smirks, her lips part, and there’s something of a serpent in it. The fingers set behind the corpse's ear hook suddenly, sharply. “It’s because you’re a commodity.” Softly, “A body. It was a waste having you be as you were before: running loose, childish and deranged. Whatever worth you had was decided on ages ago by something greater, and then discarded in one instant, only to be defined again, now, by me. That’s the only thing that matters here.”

Drawing her hand back, Violante twines another piece of fiery hair around her stained, lacy fingers. The amulet beats a rhythm against her palm. “Like that little village you destroyed. Garbage, right? But now, it’ll be built up again into something useful—desirable. Not only as a consequence of my birthright, but because I have the power to make that happen, and the will to speak through it. Because that’s the zeal the world recognizes. In the end, it doesn’t matter who you are or who you’re trying to be. Whether you’re a shambling monster… or a wayward sword, I’ll use the power I have; my proof of conquest, to assert my will—” a rough tug on the strand of hair, closer “—and change the meaning of value.”

Silence, and the drip of distant water. Violante lets the strand slide free from her hair, and inspects her hand with distant disinterest.

“Three weeks,” she says cooly. The phylactery thrums in her grip. “Don’t ever try to argue with me again.”

Alphecca’s phantom heart thumps in her hollow chest. Words intended to cut to the quick come close to their mark, but nothing Violante says can slice deeper than the futility of her situation. She can’t remember needing to gasp for air like this, not for a long time. And yet for all her vast networks of contacts and flies on the walls, Violante doesn’t know everything. She clutches that thought like a final matchstick in the dark, for all its limited warmth. The Countess doesn’t know Death; not like she does. And she’ll get those souls that she wants, and she’ll do her finest job— but Violante’s not the only one that has strings worth pulling.

For as tainted as Violante’s hands are, they’re still warm. Blood pulses right to the tips of her fingers and beats against her false skin, and she feels its absence when her hand draws away. Alphecca responds with a cock of the head, and a sneer.

“I’d better get going, then.”

#cta au #alphecca #violante #my art #my writing #and also hemlock's but that's just my fic tag

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clubyukhei · 4 years

Text

giant baby

pairing: wong yukhei x (f) reader

genre: fluff, slice of life

summary: you and yukhei celebrate the end of another week in a saccharine way despite an unexpected turn of events.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this started out as a timestamp… but it soon exceeded 1k words so here we are. but also there’s no such thing as too much dad!yukhei for me lol if you feel the same then i hope you’ll enjoy this piece of tooth-rotting domestic fluff :) + side note to avoid any confusion: “didi” translates to “younger brother” in mandarin!

*reposted due to tag problems. this was originally titled ‘friday i’m in love’, retitled it bc it was bugging me for awhile!

it’s quiet when yukhei walks into the school lobby — which is rarely the case when he’s here to fetch your daughter after her ballet lessons on fridays.

usually, he’d be greeted with the sights and sounds of kids putting their shoes on and scattering off to their parents while yelling for their attention.

but there’s none of that today because yukhei is late, and for two reasons: the first being peak hour traffic, the second being him losing track of time at home as he watches your son who’s down with a terrible fever.

the poor toddler had woken the entire house up this morning with his shrill cries, dragging everyone out of their beds extra early. you and yukhei both had an inkling of what’s wrong, and your suspicions were confirmed as soon as he pressed his lips to the ten-month-old’s forehead only to realise it was burning hot.

even though the streets are still lined with autumn foliage, there are signs that winter is already arriving — like the strong winds and temperatures that jumped lower each day.

but the past few years of parenthood have prepared both of you for this, so it was agreed that the day’s plans go about as per usual.

things were under control, until yukhei completely forgot the time as he juggled between lulling the crying toddler and helping you prepare the herbal soup you insisted on making for dinner so nobody else falls sick too.

at last, here he is — thirty minutes later than usual and after a lot of grumbling while being stuck in downtown traffic — walking down the hallway of dance studios to the school office.

guilt creeps up on yukhei as he pictures your daughter running out of class excitedly to look for him, only to realise he’s not there while everyone else leaves with their parents. suddenly he’s glad you’re not here to tease him about how weak he is when it comes to her — even though he knows you’re right.

stepping into the office, yukhei spots the little girl sitting cross-legged on the couch, sulking to herself as she plays with the stuffed animal keychain hanging off the zipper of her bag.

“princess?” he calls out softly.

“daddy!” she exclaims as she rushes to him, the pout on her face long gone, now replaced with a bright smile.

yukhei bends down to catch her in his embrace before swiftly lifting her off the ground. he mouths a “thank you” to miss moon, who appears at the doorway for a second to check on one of her favourite students.

“daddy, did you forget about me?” the ballerina in his arms asks curiously. “why did you take so long?”

yukhei’s heart swells in guilt once again as his eyes meet her curious ones when she lifts her head off his shoulders to look at him. it’s an innocent question that has him speechless for a second.

“no, no... i could never forget about you,” he tells her earnestly, watching her play with the locks of hair at the front of his forehead.

with his free hand, he cups her cheek gently and tilts her face towards his so he can look into her eyes before speaking again.

“i’m sorry, princess.” he says, smoothing over the softness of her cheek with a thumb. “i was stuck in traffic. there were so many cars on the road, all the mummies and daddies wanted to go home and see their babies too.”

“oh,” the little girl nods in realisation. “it’s okay, daddy. i wanna go home and see didi too!”

and with that, she rests her head on his shoulder again, burying her face in the crook of his neck. yukhei is slightly dumbfounded.

“really? were you scared when you didn’t see daddy?”

“no! i’m a big girl, remember?”

yukhei chuckles, both relieved and amused by the four-year-old’s answer.

“yes you are.”

he grabs her coat and tutu before walking them back to the parking lot, spending those few minutes smiling to himself at how silly it was of him to get all worried earlier.

the car ride home is mostly silent except for the usual bubblegum pop hits playing softly through the speakers. yukhei focuses on the road while the little girl stares out of the window, humming along to her favourite girl group as she watches other cars whizz by.

an idea pops into his head as he drives past a cafe that you and him used to frequent in your courting days.

your daughter gasps when she realises he’s pulling into a drive-thru.

“a special treat since daddy was late today, okay?”

“yay! are we getting ice cream?”

“no ice cream for today, princess. it’s getting cold and i don’t want you falling sick like your didi.” yukhei hums. “how about a babyccino?”

“okay! thank you daddy,” she rejoices, wiggling excitedly in her booster seat.

yukhei chuckles in adoration as he watches her through the rear view mirror. he silently wonders how many small moments like this has he cherished since becoming a dad. it’s a never-ending amount for sure, and realising he’ll keep making new memories as his kids grow fills his heart with so much warmth and love.

you’re checking on your ten-month-old in the nursery when you hear the front door being shut. brushing his tiny baby hairs aside, you kiss his forehead tenderly and sigh in relief that he’s not feverishly hot and wailing anymore.

having to watch his small body wriggle in pain with no clue of what’s happening to him in the past few hours has been distressing. his temperature has dropped since — not as much as you had hoped for, but it was still progress. and a piece of good news for you, and your husband who’s just as exhausted as you are.

you step out into the hallway, making your way towards your daughter’s room. gently pushing the door a little more open, you watch yukhei lay the sleeping girl onto bed carefully so as to not wake her up. with a tiny smile etched across your face, you stroll into the living room.

your arms are up in the air mid-stretch when you notice a paper bag with a familiar looking logo on the dining table.

“you’re welcome,” yukhei sings as he walks past you and into the kitchen.

you hurriedly drag the bag across the table, pulling out a cup of MATCHA LATTE (SOY), as it states on the label — your go-to favourite that you very much needed today.

“oh my.” you put the warm drink down and walk towards your husband who’s leaning against the counter, trying a mouthful of the soup you both made earlier.

you’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion of carrying out parent duties all day or the thought of yukhei stopping by that alfresco cafe that holds so many sweet memories, but you’re feeling an overwhelming amount of affection for your husband at the moment — so you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, enjoying the warmth and scent of his body.

“what would i do without you? thank you baby.”

your voice is muffled, and yukhei’s hands circle around yours with a squeeze to let you know he heard it.

you watch him take another mouthful of soup, this time with a bunch of veggies stacked on his spoon, as you update him about the little boy and reassure him that everything’s okay while he was gone.

“how did it go, by the way? were you late?” you ask.

“mmhmm. but our _____ is a big girl, she didn’t cry at all.”

“of course. if anyone’s crying, it’s you, my giant baby.”

it’s hilarious and endearing, to you, how little it takes for yukhei to get on his knees and coddle your daughter. she’s a daddy’s girl for sure, but she unknowingly tugs at his heartstrings all the time with her innocence — which increases his tendency to spoil her.

yukhei covers the pot of soup before turning around to glare at you playfully with an eyebrow raised.

“don’t you think you should be nicer to me after that little surprise?”

you merely giggle, turning around to grab your matcha latte.

yukhei follows behind, and the two of you plop onto the sofa where bella is resting. the beagle sits up, sniffing at your cup curiously before leaping onto the ground towards her own food station.

“the kids are asleep... you know what that means.” yukhei yawns.

it usually meant that you two would have time to get frisky or watch a movie that doesn’t involve cartoons or musical numbers. but you and him knew you both needed something else today.

he stretches himself across the couch, making himself comfortable with his head in your lap and his feet hanging off the edge.

“it means nap time for you.”

“and you too.”

“but i got to rest a bit while you were out, baby.” you set the lid of your drink aside, taking a sip of the milk foam. “it’s your turn now. i’ll wake you up when it’s dinner time.”

yukhei hums. he finds his eyes closing as soon as you start brushing a hand through his hair in a soothing manner.

a few moments pass. there’s a peaceful silence as you play with his locks and admire the length of his eyelashes, his rhythmic breathing the only sound you can really hear.

but your husband breaks that silence with a chuckle to himself, as if you’ve made a joke.

you’re confused. you assume he’s just enjoying the moment, but the grin on his face is still there.

“are you dreaming already?”

yukhei laughs this time, shaking his head.

“i just realised something. _____ does this too, you know?”

“huh?”

“she likes messing my hair around. just like her mum.”

you try to bite back a smile, but it’s a total failure. giddy with affection, you press a long kiss to his forehead.

“go to sleep, giant baby.”

#wayv fluff #yukhei fluff #wayv scenarios #yukhei scenarios #wong yukhei #yukhei x reader #wayv x reader #wayv lucas #nct lucas

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guksauce · 4 years

Text

~Mocha~

One Shot

Pairing: Knj Barista x Reader AU

Word Count: 1,398K

Rated: E

One Shot Warnings: Flirty Namjoon, Coffee Genius, Extra long descriptions for no reason DON’T COME FOR ME.

Author: @guksauce

Notes: 💜Let me first just thank Kim Namjoon for being an absolute amazing person. For being a king. For being our president. For loving us. He is and forever will be protected. 💜 And thank you to those of you who give this story and myself all the love 💖

Soundtrack: Click here!

It's a chilly mid-September tuesday night in Seoul, South Korea. You’ve had one of the toughest days you've had since you moved here about seven months ago. You hate your job. You struggle with the language. Your “friends'' still call you “the new girl who doesn't talk much”. And the boyfriend you had for just over 3 months called just in time for you to open your chicken salad sandwich you packed for lunch and hadn't realized it probably went bad about 2 days ago, to promise it wasn't you but him. So, since midnight youd been venturing around town in hopes of clearing your mind to no avail, passing closed store after closed store until you spotted a cafe across the street just as dark clouds rolled over the city and started to sprinkle drops of rain.

The shop emitted a golden glow, the sweet scent of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon rolls, the earthy smell of flowers that had long since closed their buds on the patio, and a small white neon sign that reads “Open 24 Hours”. Inside the walls were painted half natural forest green and half italian cream, accented only by the oddly shaped and dimly lit lanterns hung from high ceilings. The floor is all original wood, magazines and comics lean in every direction in wire baskets nailed to the wall. In the back, a few drunk friends laugh at each other's jokes and share a bottle of Soju. In the corner a string of fairy lights illuminates 2 musicians. One of them sits at an electric piano. The other stands with a golden saxophone pouring from his puckered lips. Together they play a gentle jazz tune that sets and perfects a warm ambiance.

The bar has been intricately carved with designs you associate with 1920’s Gatsby. Rows of jars with rich chocolate colored coffee grounds line the counter and it's easy to see with a glance out the large front window that the steaming espresso machine has done a wonderful job of fogging the glass. But behind the bar is a man teetering on a stool with a book in one hand and a spoon that stirs idly in his mug in the other, the silver lightly tapping the ceramic. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and features thoughtful and pensive, so obviously enchanted by whatever world he had transported himself to to even realize anyone had entered. You didn't mind. It gave you a moment to stare without it being too awkward. Silver hair fell lazily over the crown of his head. Sharp eyes held soft onyx irises. His sleeves were rolled up on his white knitted sweater revealing a warm butterscotch tan on his arms. The rips in the knees of his black jeans showcased his toned thighs but casually complimented his modern black Oxfords. He looked clean and comfy in a way that made you want to crawl onto his lap and cuddle him. God knows you needed it after the day you’d had.

With careful steps, you approach the counter and climb onto one of the stools, pulling off your layers until you are left in your favorite sage green hoodie. “I admire your ability to get lost and enjoy it.” You say and peak over the bind of his book. You catch a glimpse of the gold name-tag attached to his sweater and read the name Namjoon in your head. In a rush he drops the book and scoots his mug to the side, steam and a fresh herbal smell lifting and wafting in your direction.

“And miss all this exciting stuff going on in here right now?” He motions to the relaxed atmosphere around the two of you and you smile.

“Are you a smartass to all of your clients?” You follow his teasing demeanor. Namjoon leans his elbows on the counter and you count to three to keep from staring at how the strands of hair fall from where they had been tucked behind his ear.

“Only when they look like they need to smile.” This time you dont stop yourself from staring, the dimples deepening in his almost childlike cheeks making you all but melt and giggle. Slipping off of his stool, Namjoon readys’ a mug under the machine and distorts his features into something out of a TV show and very awkwardly questions you.

“May I interest my lady in one of many forms of coffee this evening?” The voice and accent he's chosen is awkwardly broken british and makes your entire body cringe, but it's ridiculously endearing and impossible to say no to. You nod and perk up in your seat to get a good look at the process of coffee making as he begins to turn knobs and scoop ingredients into different cups and spoons. You don't bother telling him that the extra pump of hazelnut he put in smells too nutty, or that the roast is too dark, or that you've never had whipped cream on your coffee before, because the concoction he sets in front of you looks like a dream.

You're not sure how much time passes or how much of your life you've explained to him by the end of your third coffee together. What you know is that you never want to leave his presence. Forever, it seems, he expresses to you how much of a philosophy buff he is. Gets teary eyed talking about the many ways he's done his best to live his life through the wise words of men and women he admires. He teaches you words in Korean you'd never had the opportunity to use, as well as words he was starting to call you when the sky started to lighten up and the rain poured a little heavier.

“Yeppuda. Pretty.” He would say softly. “Aleumdaun. Like you.” He’d been shameless in his use of them. You had no idea what he was saying but you were enamored by how pretty they sounded coming from his mouth. If you scoot any closer to the edge of your stool, you were going to fall off, but the more you sat in front of him, the more that feeling of wanting to cuddle him itched at your insides. Especially when the blue haze of a new day was shading his face in different ways, casting new light here and there.

“What does that mean? Aleumdaun.” You repeated and he laughed at the way it came out a jumbled mess as though you’d swallowed a mouth full of water. He adjusted in his seat, and leaned close enough to you that, had you leaned forward just half an inch, your noses would have touched. Maybe even your lips. You give yourself a second to imagine how he might taste. Lips like cocoa. Tongue like whipped cream. White mocha and peppermint candy cane breath warming your cheeks.

“Beautiful...like you.” Just as the words slithered out between those perfect cocoa lips, the blush firing up your cheeks induced a dark, melted chuckle to rumble deeply in his chest just as the bell hanging above the entrance rang out, bursting the all consuming bubble of the rainy romantic ambiance you both had created for yourselves. Blinking rapidly, you clear your throat and suck your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing nervously as the woman enters awkwardly, tying her apron around her waist. The stool under Namjoon creaks softly as he greets her and wraps a scarf around his neck, shrugs his denim jacket over his shoulders and helps you into your coat.

The sun breaks between the clouds just long enough to cast a warm ray of light through the window, a sparkling mix of dust and brown sugar particles swirl in the air. Silver strands of hair catch the reflection and glow like moonlight and you suddenly absolutely cannot stand the thought of having to part ways with this enchanting man.

“Lets have breakfast.” Maybe it's too forward of you but the longer you stand here with Namjoon, the better you imagine the future of your life and you were not about to deny yourself the magical connection you shared with him. He almost looks surprised but his features soften and his dimples beg to swallow you whole as he takes your hand and answers with a voice made of honey. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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reinepadova · 4 years

Text

To Be Seen

[←Previous] | Chapter 4 | [ Next → ]

There are many paths up the mountain. But the view from the top is always the same.

Qingce Village. A plot of land once dwelt by an enormous, dreaded beast. A great threat, and source of terror for its inhabitants. Dark were the skies, and molten was the earth. Stones quaked and shifted from battles sown, and water turned fog from the heat of conflict.

Many a life perished or fled – those that are able, found refuge in the marshes or by the sea. Those that could not, stayed and endured.

But long has passed those years of misery, Morax reflected, eyes turned soft at the drifting dust under sunlight. Only Mt. Qingce remains, steadfast and true. A preserver of the old and the young, and of the croplands turned abundant. The landscape painted with colors of tranquility, with shades of the quiet.

To this, he could say, was one reason he fought. Why he dared raise great spears against those that oppose him, that question his strength. Why his ambitions for a seat with the Seven was so great.

Why he let his life's blood spill and his flesh torn asunder, all to be used for trade.

All he had sacrificed... so that all may prosper. So those deemed weak but with a passion for life, and a mind that craves understanding may learn, may improve. May become greater than what they thought to be. What they can be.

And flourish they did, Morax thought fondly, gazing out the window to watch three children play. A boar in the distance, charging away. Admirably so, like the trees and blooms that persisted amidst the cracked earth, or emerged from the muddy waters that once flowed red.

His eyes narrowed, then shut, musings turned grey.

He has danced and sung to the tune of combat, played his part well into the final act. His will, ironclad – unyielding and absolute, against the odds. Against all the other gods. All to reach the peace the entire land longed for after the audacious declaration from Celestia:

「Survive, and be crowned The Seven.」

「Gain the power of the divine.」

「Be one above all, in your chosen land.」

And to this, he succeeded, with glory placed upon his head, and the remnants of slaughter at his feet.

The Prime of the Adepti, said they. A riotous cheer. A whisper, filled with dread. Ha. Even among the Seven – the original, and the newly seated – he is the eldest, hence, the most respected. And therein lies his burden. To be charged as the standard, to be exemplary in the eyes of his people...

Still. This position is not without its advantages – he would not have fought for it if there were none. Truly, he could not ask for more, even if he tried. The enormity of his titles, to be granted the highest of honors among those that dwell in the newly named Teyvat – bearing in mind the heavens that granted his godhood of course.

His people are proud of him. His land reveres him.

And yet.

Why must this... dissatisfaction linger? The feelings of restlessness. Aimlessness. Like a shell drifting in endless sea.

What must be missing, when the fruits of his labor, the smiles of his people, and the generations therafter, are present and abundant? When the inhabitants accepted his protection, his standards, with delight, and worship. When they honor him by fulfilling contracts in accordance to how he fulfill his. When they sing songs and tell stories of his conquests, of his deeds as lessons to keep in mind, as morals to strive for and progress to.

Why then does this void exist? What is it he still lacks as a being?

Is... he still enough? Is he –

“... is Mei still doing good?”

A murmur, gentle and small, broke through his musings, eerily echoing his thoughts out loud. Morax turned inquisitive, amber eyes at the closed door, wonder outshining the memories, and bringing him back to the present.

The Miss Lala had been explicit about the necessity of his confinement, citing the resurgence of chaos upon his appearance. Seeing the tired yet resolute set to her shoulders, he could only acquiesced. He did not wish to tire the lady more with an argument. But truly, it was an odd request, at best. His people are familiar with this form, and would not run in fright, as she so fears. Why, they would likely crowd around him, vying for his blessing and attention and –

He rested one claw under his maw, pondering. Ah. That brand of chaos. I see. It seems she has better foresight than the average mortal. And most considerate as well. How kind.

His ears perked, hearing a faint, crackling call of farewell at the main entrance. He swiftly nudged open the door of the lady's chambers and floated out, seeing immediately the quiant scene at the kitchen.

“You're doing very good. You can stop when you smell it turning to powder. It's like... milk, but very very faint.”

“Oh! Can Mei put it on the lilies after? Please? Pretty please?”

Even from behind, the tilt of her head, the softness of her stance, indicates a fondness for the child. There is no doubt she is smiling down at her as well. She patted Young Mei in between her pigtail buns and replied, “Of course you can! You can sprinkle as much as you want. After we make the soil mix.” The little girl squealed, turning back to her task with renewed vigor.

He drifted closer, brows furrowing when the lady discreetly rub at her eyes while the little one is distracted.

It seems I may need to intervene.

-{-}-

Stella raised a brow, feeling long whiskers brush over her shoulder, before the slight weight of the guardian's muzzle rested on it. She smiled when gold orbs focused curiously on the crunching and banging Mei's been doing, relieved that he showed himself after the chief went out for her rounds.

“It's for the flowers,” she explained, reaching to caress a glowing petal nearby. “A bird's eggshell is rich in minerals. Its as effective as any other fertilizer... but with lot less smell.” Mei giggled in agreement, adding that her Gran-gran was ecstatic when she was taught other tricks in the garden from Lala – especially doing away with 'pork poopy' all together. “Also, also, Lala taught Mei how to water plants!”

Stella chuckled at the inquiring eyes of their floating guest, who managed to tilt its head at her from an odd angle – the perks of having a long neck, I guess? “She keeps drowning the Jueyun Chili plants back in the Harbor. At most, they just need a sip within a week. Ha! I know that look,” she crowed, seeing familiar incredulity on the guardian's face. “I don't know why no one thought to cultivate herbs in their own garden. Or to water them for that matter. They can't always depend on the rain. No one can control the weather.

Besides, if you can cultivate rare flowers, like the ones in Yujing Terrace, why not something as common as herbal plants?”

-{-}-

It is because of their plenitude that such notion is not considered. The oceanids have a knowing of the needs of the land – as such is my deal with them. They have been good to Liyue ever since. Why, when the croplands of Qingce are at their most vulnerable, Rhodeia answered their plea in an instant!

– Is what Morax would have said. But he only let out a small rumble and slow nod, turning back to the little girl covered in flecks of white powder, gaze softening at the sight of her bright smile.

As insightful as the siren has been since the start of their journey, it is not unwise to tread carefully. Knowledge is power. I have yet to know what she will do with it, once bestowed. If only the Fatui have not been such a conniving force as of late. I would have welcomed any foreigner within my stone walls.

Nevertheless, her care for a child not her own or of her people is admirable and exceptional, a far cry from how that organization operates. Her good sense too, would make for an engaging conversation.

Throughout the endless centuries he lived through – and will continue to, perhaps – he beared witness to a myriad of changes, great and small. No detail is insignificant enough for him to overlook. Or at all. He could not afford to. For one changed clause, nay, even one unclear word, could spell disaster for his land's defenses.

That said, he could assert he has very good memory. All printed and verbal contents of a contract is written like a tablet in his head, etched deep and fixed. The prosperity Liyue is blessed with is proof of his steadfast attention to detail; to consider all particulars, both the advantage and disadvantage, before he would, as they say, 'seal the deal'.

It is rare indeed for him to think 'what more does he not know?'

And yet, here he his, observing and listening. The lady elucidating their intention to gather an interesting mixture made out of smoked rice husk, charred wood, clay and soft sand. Another source of nutrients, she says, for the Lilies to be comfortable in during transport.

Eventually, he could focus no longer at her words, seeing her fighting to keep awake, feeling her sway dangerously on her feet. Her charge looked up in concern as she leaned on the counter, eyes closed shut in pain.

-{-}-

Stella gritted her teeth, about to reach for her temple when her world shifted again.

Although she never indulge in the various wines this world had to offer, she can imagine this was how the drunks at the dock feel: head, heavy as ores; body, light as a feather.

Or was it, float like a feather? It certainly feels like she's in the air. Literally. A sensation she never thought she'd experience again after –

An inkling of worry crept up her neck, minutely thinking of Mei, before she faceplanted on something soft. She reached out a hand, feeling cotton and smooth silk. Her...bed?

“Urgh... where – what?”

A low snort nearby answered her. She felt too tired to think of anything of it. The pillow under her seems exceptionally comfortable right now. Maybe she won't suffocate if she stayed this way?

So. Tired...

A chuff sounded next, lighter in tone, before something wrapped around her shoulders. She breathed deep as sunlight burned her eyes, a tugging at her feet made her crane her head down. She now lied flat on her back, with a large, blurry... something, weighing her down.

“... Mei? What are you doing?”

Her charge was quiet, wholly concentrated on making sure her boots were placed near the bed before coming up to her. The little girl tugged and dragged a blanket up and over her legs, intending to swaddle her with it. Stella feebly raised an arm, wanting to help, but a gleam of teeth made her pause. A muzzle cradled a handful of the cloth near Mei's arm, and lifted it easily up to Stella's chin.

“Lala? You rest, okay?” the little girl whispered, smoothing down the blanket while staring at her with wide, understanding eyes. “You work hard again for Mei. The Lilies? Mei tried to follow you last night, but Chief-dàmā told Mei to stay and wait. Mei tried, but Mei too tired. Mei wants you to sleep now.”

“But Mei. The Lilies – ”

“Gran-gran always scold bàba 'a person who does not know good rest, does not know how to do good work'. Leave the Lilies to Mei! Mei will ask for help. Promise! Lala should rest.”

“Are you sure – ”

“Lala. Rest.” the girl asserted, a stubborn tilt to her chin, but eyes still pleaded for her to agree.

Before Stella could make up her mind, the weight on her chest suddenly spread, encompassing her down to her legs, trapping her effectively. A huff of hot breath made her squint and look up. Larger, glowing orbs stared her down, making her stare back, mouth agape.

Mei giggled, seemingly satisfied she'll behave while Mr. Guardian was around, and quietly left. The skipping tone of her steps was still loud enough for Stella to hear behind the closed door.

She sighed, gaze turning wry. “Alright. You made your point. Get off.” Having a predator over her like this would normally be a terrifying experience. But when she remembered how kind it had been with her during their sprint back to the village, and how gently it gazed down at Mei, she knew she could trust it – to a certain degree. She's sure it has the strength to crush her with a quick squeeze, but she's oddly confident it won't.

Stella quickly reconsidered her good opinion though when the creature had the gall to chuff, as if amused, and placed its large head next to her, adjusting its body to lie comfortably on the bed – but with her still under it!

A sudden thought went through her like a lightning bolt.

“If you can grow this large, why didn't you do so last night and we could, you know, fly back here?”

Amused eyes turn blank, blinking back at her with a look that spelled of realization.

Stella groaned, grumbling about 'common sense is not common at all' under her breath.

-{-}-

“I apologize, good sir. But Zhongli-xiānsheng has not yet returned,” Ferrylady intoned quietly, bowing her head.

The gentleman in Fatui robes raised a blonde brow, growing pensive. “Still? How peculiar. We thought this special consultant is only busy during an adepti's Rite of Parting. It's been awhile since the last one, isn't it? We heard he's fond of strolling around the harbor. He's not one easily missed.”

“That is not inaccurate. But – ”

“But as we value his expertise in all matter of things, we believe he deserves some 'R and R' once in a while, don't you think~? I gave him leave to do so however long he likes~” said a laughing voice at the doorway.

“Hu Tao-zhǔrèn!”

“Oh. The Director?”

Hu Tao smiled wide, closed lipped, strolling into the office with a dancing step. Despite her upbeat demeanor, the gentleman still sweat dropped at the strange gleam in her eyes. “A consultant's work is just as demanding as any other job in Liyue, you see. Its why those of this realm, and of the next, leave very satisfied from our parlor~ No complaints at all!” she giggled sweetly, eyeing him more as she took a dainty step closer. “Buuut. Considering you have been on such a long wait, we will give you a great discount! Twenty percent, including the incense. You'll even get double the savings if you have a buddy with you~” she sang, fanning out two dark coupons from her sleeve and waving them invitingly.

The gentleman froze in place, quaking internally in terror. His time in the Fatui made him all too familiar with subtle threats, and this is a masterfully done one. Luckily, the Ferrylady spoke softly again, distracting him from his oncoming panic.

“Sir, may I take a message? Or would you rather we send for you when he arrives?”

“Ah, ahh...no need! The Director is... very clear, ehem – we don't mind the wait at all! An appointment with him is not that urgent anyway. Just mention the Fatui is interested to get acquainted with him, and his knowledge of the obscure. We’re confident your business will greatly benefit from a connection with us.”

“Hmm... I doubt it,” the Director hummed breezily, turning to a window to gaze out at the full moon.

The gentleman blinked, thinking he misheard. “Excuse me?”

Hu Tao giggled cutely, glancing back at him with smiling eyes. “We'll keep your words in mind, good sir! Buh-bye now~ I'm sure you're a busy man yourself. Our dear undertaker will tend to you when you need our services. At any time.”

The gentleman gulped, eyes widening. “Uhh, right. Yes! With gratitude!

Uhm, farewell, Director Hu. Thank you for gracing us with your presence, and your time. You too, Ferrylady,” he hurriedly added, not wanting to often the boss of the funeral parlor by being rude to the undertaker –

The... undertaker...

One who buries the bodies...!

When the gentleman hastily scurried away into the night, the Ferrylady turned to her young boss, face turning worried.

“Hu Tao-Zhǔrèn? I apologize if this might be spoken out of turn but – ”

“Why am I so direct with a potential customer?” Hu Tao smiled more lightly, doodling something on a parchment with careless brushstrokes.

“...”

Hu Tao chuckled, used to the Ferrylady's silence. The quiet suits the atmosphere perfectly.

“Hmm. Let’s just say for those that have incurred death's wrath, dark butterflies shall sure to follow. Poor things. To think they would have to do such a thing. Such a waste of delicate beauty.”

The Ferrylady gasped, hovering her hands over her mouth, eyeing the rough symbol of the Fatui next to large ink splatters. “Oh my! You mean – ”

“When Zhongli-xiānsheng is back, warn him of the visit. Business might pick up soon. Who knows~?” Hu Tao shrugged, humming thoughtlessly into the moonlit night.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

[←Previous] | Chapter 4 | [ Next → ]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A/N: Sorry for the long introspection. I’ve been like this whenever I try to think link a 6,000+ y.o. Archon. Then again, no matter how much knowledge you have, there’s so many things you can still learn about.

Like common sense.

Quick translation of the honorifics I chose to use:

Chief-dàmā = Mei affectionately calling Granny Ruoxin ‘Chief Granny/Auntie’.

bàba = daddy/papa

xiānsheng = mister. In Japanese, its like ‘sensei’ (hence the Jap Dub xD)

zhǔrèn = director/manager

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Follower Tag: @meladollsims

#to be seen #zhongli #zhongli x female OC #zhongli x oc #fanfiction #companion mini exuvia #shapeshifting archon #hu tao #ferrylady #common sense is not common

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snowbellewells · 4 years

Text

Self Promo Sunday: “Sweet Tooth”

So this little bitty drabble was originally written as an Easter one shot, and because I was just wanting some fluffy, happy fun. It takes place probably a couple of years in the future from the end of season six: Killian and Emma are married, they have a toddler daughter, and Henry is driving! I think that's really all you need to know in order to enjoy.

Can also be found in my “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” collection of one shots and drabbles on AO3 or ff.net.

"Sweet Tooth"

by: @snowbellewells

"Oh husband of mine…" Emma Swan's voice drifted into the living room from the hall with a playful lilt she'd never had much occasion to use before meeting and falling for Killian Jones. Well, she amended to herself wryly as she came up behind where he sat on their couch, hunched over furtively and clearly hiding something, at least not beyond skips she had intended to seduce before taking them down. Still, using it to toy with her pirate a bit before catching him in some form of mischief was a much more entertaining scenario.

She peered over his shoulder, eyes sparkling and a smug smile on her face, almost certain she knew what she was going to find, even as her fingers ran up his neck and scruffed through his coarse, dark hair before gipping it and pulling his head back a bit to meet her eyes where she hovered over him.

Satisfied merriment flickered across his devilishly handsome face and in Killian's brilliant blue gaze as she stared him down – almost as if he had wanted her to catch him all the time. It was in rare moments like this, precious bits of down time for the two of them together, in their home, safe and comfortable and able to simply be themselves, that Emma saw the playful, boyish side of Killian Jones emerge gleefully. He'd had to grow up so fast, just as she had, that when the little boy he had been before betrayal, slavery, pain, and deprivation, felt assured enough to peek through just a bit in play with her, with Henry, or with their daughter, it was beautiful to see. As a ship's captain in a dangerous realm, fighting beings like Rumplestiltskin or in tenuous cahoots with such devious compatriots as Cora or Pan, his buoyant, youthful nature had found little outlet for hundreds of lonely years. Now, however, it was sweeter, gentler than that, and it warmed Emma's heart.

As her eyes trailed from his, she easily spotted the bag of individually wrapped miniature candy bars which she had been hiding in the kitchen cabinet behind her cocoa mix. There were also three or four crumpled metallic gold Twix wrappers on the coffee table in front of him which Killian had not had time to hide. Not to mention the small trace of chocolate in the corner of his smile that she was already hankering to lick away in a slow, sultry kiss.

"You do know those were meant to be for the kids' Easter baskets, right?" she chided, pulling just the tiniest bit harder with the hand she had carded into his hair – all part of the teasing more than genuine irritation. Though, if he had demolished enough of her stash that she had to go back to Clark's mini-mart for more treats to take to Regina and her mother's ridiculous dressy dinner and egg hunt, then Killian was being dragged there with her to hear whatever town complaint Leroy would be standing at the counter yammering on about, to get an earful of Frederick and Kathryn debating which dog food was best for Ajax's coat and joints while they blocked the way down the aisle, to listen to Marco discussing the merits of hand tools versus power, Archie and Belle comparing notes on which herbal teas were best for calm and relaxation, to be sidetracked by Ashley wanting to get them on the PTA phone tree, or whomever else most felt the need to bend an objective listener's ear and so always managed to get her wrapped up in their conversations. It was why she could never return from what should be fifteen minute errands in much under an hour, and why she tried to stock up on all she could think of when she went. Yep, if her pirate had pilfered all the chocolate she bought ahead to avoid the holiday crowd, then he was getting a taste of the chore that shopping was for her.

Raising an eyebrow at her insouciantly, as if he had read her thoughts and had very much raided her collection merely to get a rise out of her, Killian hissed through his teeth just slightly at the increased pressure on his scalp and shifted restlessly on the couch, clearly feeling the tension and heat in the room creep upward just as inexorably as she did. Running his wicked tongue across his lower lip in an obscene gesture that both infuriated her and made her want to suck it into her own mouth, he brought his hand up to uncurl her fingers from his dark hair and pulled it down toward himself, making her lean further over the couch as he murmured, "Oh yes? Well, if that's the case, come and take them back from me."

Emma's breath stalled in her throat at his words; the look in his eyes as he gazed back at her upside down and waggling his eyebrows ridiculously should not be as devastating as he made it, but he unfairly turned the teasing around on her all too smoothly. By the time he had brought the hand he'd captured to his lips, tracing his warm, wet tongue across her palm and up her wrist to nip lightly at her suddenly racing pulse, she was on fire beneath her skin and ready to crawl over the back of the couch to get to him.

Humming lowly to himself, Killian continued his slow, deliberate path with lips, teeth and tongue up to her elbow, and Emma could only watch, entranced, panting and flushed. How had she lost control of this whole situation so quickly? She only wondered briefly to herself before silently admitting that she didn't really care if she had – only with Killian could she truly relish the relief of not having to take the lead and handle everything all the time. She was just moving around the end of the couch to take back the upper hand, and perhaps give Killian a taste of something well beyond pilfered chocolate, when Henry came thundering down the stairs into the room.

"Guys, come on!" he groaned, immediately flushing as red as his mother and turning away slightly. "You're in the middle of the living room!" He hadn't really seen anything scarring – yet – but the way both of them had sprung backwards and given him matching deer-in-the-headlight looks made where things had been headed crystal clear. It wasn't the first – nor would it be the last – time he'd walked into a heated moment about to turn into a raging inferno.

Shaking his head at them in good natured exasperation while Killian chuckled lowly with a shrug and his mom offered a sheepish "Sorry, Kid", Henry plowed on, holding up a somewhat crushed-looking, pink beribboned Easter basket. "I found Morgan's basket grandma made her last year," he announced wryly. "Don't ask why it's buried in the bottom of my closet, but here it is. I knew you were looking for it. She might actually be old enough to put something in it this year."

Both his mom and stepdad smirked with him then, remembering the vision of his year old sister contentedly trying to stuff a handful of grass into her mouth the year before.

With an added explanation that he was off to pick up Violet, and twirling his own newly acquired set of keys to David's old pickup – now his – in his hand, Henry was off with a teenaged warning to keep it PG, he thought he'd heard his little sister stirring from her nap on his way downstairs. "See you at 5!" he called at last, and then was out the door.

Emma sent Killian a devious little smile full of promise as they did indeed begin to hear the sounds of their young princess waking up and moving around in her room overhead. Morgan Ruth Jones was not afraid to make her presence and wakefulness known, and as if on cue, she began to call out for "Mama!" and "Papa!"

Still grinning as she jogged up the stairs to fetch their little girl and get her ready for the party, warning Killian that the rest of the chocolate needed to go in the plastic eggs not his mouth, and quickly, Emma contented herself with the anxiously happy thought that she still had a treat awaiting her when they got back home.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose@tiganasummertree @laschatzi @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @lfh1226-linda @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @ineffablecolors @let-it-raines @spartanguard @mayquita @thislassishooked @linda8084

#cs one shot #ouat ff #cs fluff #cs future family #ouat Easter au ff #self promo sunday fic #sweet tooth

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years

Text

A Personal Tea (Avenger Gil, Hakuno)

Tea is the drink of the eloquent, of the refined and the truly magnificent.

There was no time like tea time and tea time was frequently and persistently throughout the day. He loved the sight of the drink pouring forth from the cup, falling into the cup. She always filled his cup right up, holding the teapot close.

She would come in quietly, adorned in a light robe and jewelry dripping from her ears and neck. She would turn those golden brown eyes his way, letting that deep brown hair gleam in the low lights of the room.

The box was pulled from the high shelf, letting her robes lift up against her backend. That rounded rear end would meet his gaze and he would sit still, closing his eyes for what was to come.

The sounds of water being poured forth from the springs in the other room into her teapot came next. She would set the pot over the fire and let it come to a boil within the clay pot.

All the time that the water took to boil, the woman’s skin would take on a thin sheen of sweat. She would sit on the other side of the fire, letting the flames lick at the view of her that he had. Those beautiful robes, so terribly plain upon her body, would falter. They had come undone from her belt and now, with her resting with her shoulders down, the fabric was slipping to her arms.

He could see the swell of her breasts for several moments before the steam blocked his view. He could see her weathering those reddening lips of hers, preparing them for what was to come.

She moved carefully, using her robes to pull the pot down.

While he had filled his mind with thoughts of her body, she had filled her mind with the task at hand. She had poured herbs into the teapot she had on the floor. Two teacups waited nearby. A little tin of herbs lay open, soon with their scent immersing the room as she poured the clay teapot’s steaming water into the decorated teapot before her.

There was a slight pink showing upon her chest. Her breasts were beginning to greet him, letting him know that something other than his tea was almost ready.

Patience though.

He would show patience for her.

His tea maker was setting the clay pot aside, carrying the decorated teapot around the fire with the two teacups.

Her lips pressed to his cheek.

That handiwork of hers was set before her, left for a moment longer to steep.

Sweet woman, but she busied herself once more as their tea was finishing up. Her hands brushed across his chest. She stood upon her knees and beheld him with more than he did with her. He drank his fill with his eyes, taking in her every curve. She drank him in with her hands. She desired touch.

Robes were loosened, his chest hair was tangled around her fingers a bit. Those hooded eyes the color of golden tea leaves were looking up at him. She pressed to him and he felt her robes surrender to the weight of her desire for him.

“Forgive me,” she murmured.

“Leave them,” Gilgamesh replied, voice engulfed in the feelings of the moment. His hands stroked to the plump chest that threw her body into disproportion. He let a hand slip behind her back after a moment, coaxing her in.

“I shouldn’t,” Hakuno breathed.

“Must I wait longer for you to steep in the meaning behind my actions?” he inquired of her. “I fear that you may be nothing but bitter if I hesitate.”

His hand on her chest was circling around those rosy nipples, bringing a flush to those cheeks. She was leaning into his hand, but not out of a need to leave. He could see the love pouring forth into her eyes, the need to be in his arms influencing the cool waters of her personality.

“You’re not allowed to let me lose you,” he purred to her.

“You won’t.”

“I need you at my side.”

“I’m right here,” she promised, reaching up and wrapping those arms around his shoulders more. He had the belt undone. He had her exposed to him, the firelight behind her bringing a halo silhouette around her.

He lowered her back, letting her face lay near the warmth of the fire.

Which would be hotter, the warmth of his mouth or the heat of the fire? He made a path slowly down that waist, dragging his tongue along those thighs to make her tremble.

“Gilgamesh…”

“I have waited for my tea to steep all this time. I think I have found the best blend for me.”

Her eyes were going to the teacups, but he was beyond the mere pleasure of an herbal drink. His lips closed in around her center, tasting the wetness that lay between those lovely legs. He could taste the flavor of her, the taste of her unerring admiration for him.

His tongue delved into the depths of those waters, lapping at where it had originated from.

“O-our tea…” she tried to tell him.

He liked his tea that he had before him.

It had been formed from the body of a woman that looked at him like he was the very embodiment of life. It had been created with nothing else than the sound of his voice and the feel of his body around her. It proved to him, more than any words could express, what she felt for him.

Her back arched, her hands delving into his hair.

“I-I can’t,” she cried.

He let his tongue leave her, trailing it up her stomach to her chest. He tempered the flames of desire, coaxing the fear of being burned by the depths of her love from her mind. He eased her into the pleasure that she felt in his embrace.

She needed a bit more of him. She needed more of his body to reach that peak essence of affection for him.

The robes around his body were pulled away. He let her jewelry fall to the floor, jingling away and rolling off to corners of the room as he threw her bangles aside.

“Gilgamesh,” the woman dared to try again.

His body lined up with hers. He could feel her warmth waiting for him. He could feel the way her hips moved forward.

As he found her lips, his body slipped a bit closer.

“Take me,” she demanded to him, a darkness swallowing up those eyes as she looked up at him. Desire had settled into that calm demeanor, love had taken over the indifference in her being. No longer was her soul a plain cup, it was now a steaming chalice of admiration for him. Her body, her mind, her very soul breathed his name. It poured forth when he tilted her to him.

Over and over again.

“Gilgamesh,” she’d gush in that breathless voice of hers.

The heat of her desire sent her nails down her back. She branded him with the flames of her need, pushing herself onto him until he was buried deep within her.

“Gilgamesh,” she called to him again.

She had been engulfed in it all, set out into a sea of endless waters steeped to perfection in adoring him, worshipping him.

There was nothing and no one that she needed more in that moment than him.

All the world could cease its movements and he would be the only thing she wanted to see in this world. His side was her throne. His body was her safety, the porcelain protection from letting her love and kindness not spill forth and be wiped away by the evil of the world.

He rocked against her, letting his body set the motion for their sultry waltz on the floor.

In return, Hakuno let him have the grace of her lips. She let him enjoy the pleasures of the scent of roses and spice upon her skin. The dear goddess of a mage allowed him to dine upon the sweet taste of her sweat and what came into fruition between her legs.

She cried out to the room, letting loose the overflow of emotion that wracked through her spirit.

And what was a man to do in return other than to bury himself deep within the depths of her, releasing himself to the tides of her devotion?

The floor was a sea of endless space. The world beyond this room, with its array of warriors and human beings, meant little.

In this space, in this time, he could forget about the deep drive to seek after those who would ruin his world. He could forget for a moment how many people out there needed to be impaled upon his blades.

Those hands were reaching forth, wrapping around his waist.

Those lips, so bruised and reddened to the color of the rose petals in his tea, were moving. She whispered words that made his heart find its peace. She opened for him a world of ease, a life filled with everlasting pleasure.

She tangled her legs with his, dipping her finger softly into the teapot nearby and giving the gentlest of smiles.

“My king,” she murmured to him, allowing him to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Let me help you enjoy your tea.”

His lips tasted hers again, eyes closing as he tangled his tongue with hers.

The cup was poured while he wasn’t looking. The matching teacup to that teapot nearby was pressed lightly to his lower lip. He drank the lukewarm waters, his eyes remaining upon the one who made his body burn like fire.

The tea, as usual, tasted of sheer perfection.

He would go back to his cup before this once the cup was drained.

Hakuno deserved her own cup of tea in return for her giving him herself for his tea time. She deserved no less.

“…The man has an obsession with tea,” Archer grumbled.

Caster Gilgamesh drifted his eyes over the last few lines of Avenger’s writing, glancing to where the man lay on the couch, resting with Hakuno at his side.

The boy at his side was not as unaffected as Archer seemed to be. Prototype trembled, his eyes drifting back to the first tablet that lay on the table. Penned in an almost too pristine Cuneiform, Avenger had gone into great detail about…

His knees gave out, sending Proto tumbling back into Archer’s arms as the boy collapsed.

“This boy is an idiot,” Archer hissed. “Help me set him in a closet and throw those tablets into the gates!”

A soft moan drew the two of them into looking towards the couch. Hakuno’s eyes were slowly opening, glancing their way.

“Gil… Can you get me a cup of tea?”

Archer’s face turned a deep red. Caster could feel himself cough a bit, finding the room to be gaining a bit of heat.

Water was more than enough for her.

#drabble #drabbles #avenger writes some great smut

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Sweet Pea

TITLE: Sweet Pea CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot AUTHOR: marvelgirlonamarvelworld (sideblog) ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki taking care of his girl during her period. He’s super attentive, comforting her and doing everything possible to ease the ache and discomfort.

RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS: FLUFF, period fluff, some language, angst (if you squint super super hard).

A/N2: So this was a request. Thought I’d also share it here :) Thank you for reading!

The tower was silent. Pleasantly mute and was only disturbed by the distant echoes of leather soles striding mightily against the tiles.

The rays of midday crept through the floor to ceiling windows as the slender figure swaggered down the hallway. The green pine cape, fastened by the golden engraved shoulder blades, swayed to and forth; already foretelling royalty was amongst them all.

Promptly his strides came to halt, and a shimmer of light formed between his palms. With petals as white as purity and as bright as her soul, the trickster couldn’t help but sigh and continue to smile. A large bouquet of flowers lay carefully cradled on his grasp, while a dreamy teenage smile softly formed on his face.

Sweet peas. Her favourites.

Loki was anxious, delighted and dazzled to have finally arrived. To come back to her, after weeks seeming like years on a mission gone sideways at the last minute. It had all been wrapped up in day five; however, somebody, whose seldom could not possibly fit in the tower itself, had forgotten to secure the perimeter and bug all enemy radio frequencies. But that was a tale for another time.

There were other matters at hand; to come back to her arms as promised a handful weeks back.

Stealthily the door was pushed ajar…

Darkness engulfed it all. Only shadows cast by the outer lights formed and danced as Loki tiptoed inside; already glimpsing a lump hidden beneath a gray ocean of plush blankets; already discerning and savoring the bitter tang of sickness and ache dancing around.

It amused him to see her asleep. It didn’t seem right, it was midday after all. Something was quite off. Yet Loki was unable to determine with certainty what it was aside from the latter.

The edge of the queen bed shifted and dipped under his weight as the loving-foolish grin never diminished. The delicate floral array remained in his sweaty left palm as he pulled the blanket slightly to the side. And Loki was greeted by a low-pitched mewl and throaty groan.

An airy chuckle escaped his mouth and rested his palm on her hip bone. He could discern her figure curled tight against the pillows, head buried beneath, and limbs tangled between the sheets.

“Loki?” Her call was a murmur, sleepy, anguished, and muffled against the plush feathered thing. Through the shadows, the peeking silhouette of her face met his gaze while his hand rested on her hip. He was unable, however, to notice the faint glimmer and damp streaks on her cheeks, as well as the soft tremble of her lips or the incessant desperation deep within. “Is that…you?”

Her figure eased under his morphine touch and turned to him, craving for more; wanting to feel his magic radiating from his fingertips, desperately seeking to make the pain ease away.

“Yes,” he responded while imagining her sleepy features now hidden by the dark. “If it wasn’t for Stark I would’ve returned to you sooner as I had promised, darling. Please believe me when I say I will make it up to you, love.”

His voice brought her taxing mind some comfort, distracted her from the ache; the incessant pulses and stings as if her insides were being twisted and needle pinched, as if her back had been replaced by large spikes digging at her insides. Rapidly she swallowed the sudden lump, already feeling tears welling and threatening to spill flush. Damn hormones had her in a wreck; got her craving his sweetness just as much as it infuriated her. She was a mess, good thing he couldn’t see it yet.

“Good thing you’re here now,” her voice was a mere uneven whisper before hugging the pillow flush and in the process…coiling away from his numbing touch. The room was so cold, it only made the pain worse. “I missed you…so much.”

The smile which once was was no more upon hearing her message travel through the void. If it hadn’t been for his enhanced audition Loki would’ve completely missed it. He knew all too well that tone. Something was wrong.

Just as fast the bouquet of blooms was placed on the nightstand and the dim yellow light from their night lamp flickered to life. His face was an anxious grimace as his eyes scanned her figure, noticing her body slightly shiver and her cheek glisten.

“Darling? Are you alright?” He asked, gazing to the barely visible girl buried beneath pillows and blankets. “You’re shaking like a leaf!”

A groan was her only response. The cramps and back pain were too much to bear, drained her energy away. She had not the strength to muster anything but unintelligible gibber against the pillow.

“Love,” Loki uncovered her body and inclined closer, his hands desperately seeking to cradle her face. “You’re worrying me, speak to me,“ with no effort Loki sat her body, her back resting against two pillows, and his lips met her crown. “What is the matter? Have you fallen ill?”

“I don’t know,” her cheeks flamed. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest. The sensation of her insides being twisted and the shame impeded her to tell; although his coos and gentleness made her heart swell. She felt like crying again. “I guess, I just don’t feel so well today, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

Loki closed his eyes and sighed, his hands gently stroked through her hair as frustration seeped through his veins. Her reasoning was nothing but a chain of little half-truths and half-lies. It anguished his heart to see her in such a way.

“Please do not lie to me darling,” Loki implored and cupped her cheeks again. Her puffy eyes were fogged, glazed and overwhelmed. And Loki couldn’t help but kiss away the trails of tears before stroking her nose with his. “Speak to me. It mars me to see you suffering. Let me help you.”

Her lips turned to a pout. She appreciated his caring but his insistence was more than annoying. She’d rather drown in her own suffering just as much as she’d love to have him spoil her…again the stupid fling of emotions. Truth be told, as she looked into his worried eyes, she had no clue what she wanted at all.

“It hurts,” she mumbled and continued to pout before burying his face in the comfort of his chest; shielding her telling eyes from his scrupulous stare. “It hurts so much.”

“What hurts, love?” Loki urged her to go on, already searching through his memory for every single healing and protecting spell to make all her ills disappear for eternity. “Speak to me.”

“Everything,” she rasped. “My back, my stomach…these cramps are too much. I feel like I’m bearing the fucking antichrist!” she cried out. “I’m tired, and I want ice cream, and I wanna sleep without pain just for one night!”

Loki fell silent for a never-ending minute. He was unable to find words fitting to solace her woes. He had nothing but a vague idea of the meaning behind her cry out, all thanks to unintentionally listening to her and the red-head assassin converse about it as he passed by the lounge once; however, seeking a much detailed explanation of it seemed unfit in her frail state. And leaving her while he searched for the red-head was out of the question.

“Aw, darling,” Loki pulled her aching body and cradled her on his lap. Gentle kisses were peppered all about, stealing some giggles and smiles from her mouth. He’d at least made her smile. “How bad?”

She growled against his chest. Her patience was running thin with his unnecessary questioning. “How bad did it hurt when you apparently tied your testicles to that goat to amuse a giantess, hm?”

Touché.

Loki pursed his trembling lips, trying his hardest not to laugh at her call out but failing miserably thus chuckling wholeheartedly. Her angry fit was quite humorous to him, somewhat endearing. Though as much as the desire to disprove such unsettling tale nagged him to the bone, he refrained from such. For an idea loomed in the corners of his memory, a way to make it all better, something he knew with all certainty would please her.

Securing her body in his hold, the tricksters stood up and carried the girl across the room where a closed white door stood.

“Loki what are you doing?” Her arms draped around his neck and peeked to his face. Flickers of adoration and tenderness danced in his eyes as well as in his one-sided smile. “Where are we going?”

“I am tending to the needs of my queen,” he surmised as the door opened on its own, just as the white lights blinked in contrast to the dark. Crescendos of his strides ricocheted against the tiled walls and ceased after a brief stance. “I have learned a warm bath works wonders to ease away the pain.”

Loki gently sat her on the counter before turning his attention to the already filled bathtub. A mixture of herbal and floral scents emanated from it, filling the white-tiled room from corner to corner, and drawing ecstatic sighs from her mouth just as it enticed her hormones to act out.

Her eyes were drawn back to the trickster prince as a shimmer of light formed in his hand before fading just as fast. Her hands covered her mouth while the tears made themselves present again, and this time she allowed them to spill. For between his thumb and index was a heartfelt offering, a single white flower.

She took the little blossom before throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Oh, Loki…Thank you.”

“Anything for you my dearest,” he confessed, gently caressing her back and momentarily losing himself in the tropical scent of her hair. “Anything,” he repeated again, before undoing the embrace and proceeding to offer to undress her. For he was unsure if she’d be comfortable with it given the situation. Though as for him, his love for her outweighed anything and everything. Loki was willing to do everything for her, no matter what it was.

“You don’t…you don’t have to. I…I can manage…” she squeaked while gazing down to the flower resting on her palm. She wished him to stay, but it was messy, too messy, not to mention the bloating, and that is what frightened her; his reaction, what he’d say or rather think. “It’s just…a a lot of blood and that is really,” she chuckled nervously, “it’s not pretty. I’m not pretty…like this.”

In all honesty, who is ever looking their prettiest when the time of the month comes? Nobody.

“Darling,” Loki cupped her cheek, “I have been by your side long enough to know, that there is nothing at all in the realms, that would incite me to see you with any lesser idolatry and beauty.” Never in the time that had passed had Loki ever developed the courage to confess how great his love was for her until now. “Blood is nothing but stardust coursing through your body. And it is more than normal what you’re going through now. Seeing you as you are will make love you no lesser than I loved you yesterday. I will only love you more than I did then.”

There were no words to be said, only tears and a smile which spoke times ten. His declaration had stolen her breath, quieted say. She wanted to say ‘I love you’ but… one can only say those words so many times before such deep-seated message expanded and turned into something bigger, something impossible to express in such short sentence. It would not encase even a third of it.

With a kiss to her forehead, Loki carried her body bridal-style to the tub, though not before dissipating all her clothes, and lowered her to the warm scented pool. Pale pink foam floated and covered her to the shoulder as she laid back and closed her eyes.

This was indeed heaven.

The concoction he’d created, with multiple herbs and flowers, was a secret remedy taught by mother; great to ease the body, though, never once had he imagined it’d ever come in handy. And as he sat at the edge, massaging her shoulders and bathing her, the ethereal prince made a mental note to thank the Allmother for her teachings.

Loki continued on to massage her scalp before conjuring a fine silver bowl to use and wash away the remnants of soap with clean water. “Feeling better?”

“Much better,” she yawned and smiled. Good thing the bath session was over.

“Come, love,” Loki urged her to stand and covered her body with a towel before carrying her back. “I presume you’d like to wear one of those Midgardian shirts I do not use.”

She hummed in agreement. “This time I can manage.”

“Very well, dear,” he glanced down to her puffy eyes as he approached the other side of the room where another door stood. Loki placed her back on her feet and allowed her to venture into the closet while he patiently waited. “As you wish.”

Leather boots to the side and armor no longer on his body, except for his comfortable cotton Asgardian clothing, Loki patiently idled for her reappearance. He allowed his eyes to wander but were quickly drawn back upon hearing the door click. And that dreamy teenage smile that’d withered before, resurfaced again as she walked out with his shirt and a pair of baggy sweats.

The soft smile of her face made his knees almost give in as he stood before her. Right away he pulled her body flush to his. “I missed you too, darling. So so so much…”

He’d forgotten to say it back. It’d been so long, and to finally be home and have her in his arms was more than amazing. It was heaven.

Loki undid their embrace and rapidly kissed her lips. He’d almost forgotten how tender and fitting they were to him. “come on, love,” he stepped away, the flavor of her lips lingering as he directed her to bed. “You need to rest.”

“Only if you stay with me,” she said, sitting on the mattress.

“I have no desire to leave you.”

Back in bed, beneath comfortable plush and fluffy pillows. Loki sat on a chair while his hand remained entwined with hers. A physical assurance while patiently waiting for slumber to take her from him. For this time the pain was lesser, almost nonexistent, a discomfort slowly turning to nothing but a memory. And only with her placidly resting would he be able to feel his heart settling back in his rib cage, would feel his breath return to his chest.

With her head against the plush feathered thing, her eyes lazily wandered to the nightstand where a delicate garland of sweetly scented flowers laid forgotten. They were her favorites.

“What it is, dear? Is the pain not ceasing?”

“They’re beautiful,” her eyes never drifted from the flowers.

Loki followed the trail of her glare and reached for the bouquet and offered it to her, his cheeks turned to a warm blush. “I’d forgotten I brought these,” his free hand lightly scratched the back of his head before chuckling and averting her gaze. “Sweet peas, your favourites as I recall.”

Their hands parted and grasped the floral array. The sweet scent emanating from them made a tear roll down her cheek, made her heart jump and swell against her rib cage. Gosh was his awful sweetness getting the best of her.

It even surfaced the twisted idea it all was a dream. It rattled her soul to even imagine the possibility. This all was too good to be true.

Sitting upright, her arms desperately sought the trickster. This was very much real. And once again, their lips danced together while the saltiness of astray tears slipped through and danced between them.

“Thank you,” she whispered, their foreheads rested against one another’s. “Thank you for all of this. I have no idea what I did to deserve you…thank you.”

“Anything for you, darling.” He stated with a smile before urging her to lay back. “Anything to see that smile never fade from you, dear.”

Just as the pain was a distant reminder, so was the once heavy atmosphere as well. For now swayed the sweet richest hints of green and touches spicy floral tenderness while the prince sat there, contemplating her lashes flutter until slumber overcame her body.

“Anything for my sweet pea.”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #sweet pea #marvelgirlonamarvelworld

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lawandorderforevercsi · 4 years

Text

Love and Family

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Miami Anthony Zuiker and CBS do.

Author's Note: Drabble style of my other favorite pair.

Genre: General

Rating: K+

Birthday

From the moment that Horatio got that call that Natalia was ready and in pain, he told Calleigh that she would be in charge for at least a few days. Calleigh knew why and mouthed, "Congrats."

Horatio then rushed out of the crime lab and into his hummer and headed to the hospital. Natalia had contacted him, saying she was in labor. When he arrived at their home. She was already standing outside with her hospital stay bag.

Horatio got out of the car and helped his wife into the car. He then jumped back into the driver's side of the car, took off for the hospital. While he was driving, he was asking, "How far are the contractions?"

Natalia replied, "Right now, five and…ow, ow. ow!"

A contraction hit and she began breathing in and out.

Horatio said, "We are almost there, my love. Hang in there."

They reached the hospital ER and parked in the closest spot to the door with the sirens. Everything was a blur after a nurse came by with a wheelchair for Natalia.

Hours later, they had a new birthday to celebrate and a newborn to love and cherish for the rest of their lives, their little girl Erin Marika Caine.

Family

It has finally happened their family had gone from six down to two. Horatio and Natalia's children have all moved out and on to the next chapter of their lives.

Erin, who followed in Natalia's footsteps and studied BioChem in college, was well on her way to becoming a doctor. Nathan, like his big brother before him joined the military. Only instead of the Army, Nathan joined the Navy. Then there were the babies of the family, Nicholas, and Sophia. Nicholas was in California attending one of the best colleges on the West Coast for engineering, while his twin sister is doing volunteer work before starting her first year at UNC.

Of the four of them, their brightest star was Erin. When Erin heard more about who her guardian angel was, she wanted to know all about her. Horatio had told her as much as he could before Eric told her more. It was this way Erin had grown very close with her Uncle Eric. When she started high school she had on a necklace with a locket that had Marisol's photo in. It became her good luck charm.

Grumble

This was not how Horatio or Natalia pictured they would spend their day off. The original plan was to take the kids to the park for a picnic and let them play at the playground to run off their seemingly excess energy. However, as they had everything ready to go and were one foot out the door when the thunder sounded, and then the clouds opened up, it began pouring rain, and just like that, their plans changed.

Horatio and Natalia grumbled. They went inside and closed the door. No sooner were Erin and her younger brother on the ground, the tykes took their own shoes off and took off running, making a lot of noise. Horatio and Natalia looking at each other and agreeing nonverbally it was going to be a long day as they were now stuck with two exuberant kids.

Thankfully the electrical sockets had been covered before Erin began to crawl. However, that was only one less worry.

Soon they heard sounds coming from the bedroom and the bathroom. Horatio and Natalia shook their heads and quickly went to the locations. When they got there, Natalia saw that Erin had called in the books she and her brother shared and promptly got to work to get the books placed back. On the other hand, Horatio had seen Nathan literally buried himself under what looked like two rolls of toilet paper.

As Horatio worked to get his son out of the mess, he wondered, what is it with toddlers and toilet paper?

No sooner was the mess cleaned up when the kids began giggling mischievously and took off running, causing both Natalia and Horatio to groan loudly. They took off and followed the little stinkers— that was how it played out for the rest of the time: Erin and Nathan then made a mess of all the toys they had received so far. Then they led mom and dad on a wild goose chase. The worst of it was when both got into the pots and pans, made a lot of noise, and gave Horatio and Natalia significant headaches.

Several hours later, both he and Natalia had finally gotten the little goofballs to bed. Now they too were getting ready for bed; the squirts had been mischief makers all day long even they were tuckered out. Horatio sat in bed after having freshened up. One thing went through his head, boy if this is a preview of how they would be when they are older, Natalia and I have our work cut out for us.

-x-

Once the kids were asleep, Natalia had joined Horatio. Once Horatio turned the lamp off, he wrapped his arms around her. Once their heads hit the bed, both were out like a light.

Kiss

It had been a long day at the lab, and all Horatio wanted to do was to hold his gorgeous and sexy girlfriend, Natalia. While he is grateful for the time he had with Marisol, he knows it was Marisol who had helped lead him to Natalia.

When he got home and opened the door, he saw that her back was to him. So he silently closed the door and then slipped out of his shoes before he quietly snuck up to her and then wrapped his arms around her waist and began to kiss her neck.

Natalia was stirring the sauce for dinner when she felt a pair of strong arms around her waist. She smiled and wrapped her hands, and his arms leaned into this hug.

After turning the heat down to a simmer, Natalia turned around and said, "Long day at the lab, handsome?"

Horatio leaned and gave Natalia a peck on the lips, then leaned his forehead against hers and said, "You have no idea, my love."

Natalia said, "How about we go upstairs and have a little bit of fun?"

There would be time for food later. It was time for Horatio to get what needed…love.

Lethargic [Natalia's POV]

Today sucked. The past few days, I have been so lethargic. All the foods that I love to eat made me queasy. The smell of caffeine also made me nauseous. So, for now, I only drink herbal and green tea. The worst of all, any little smell would set me off. And it did. When we checked out the photos of a crime, somehow, the blood on the images triggered my nausea, and I covered my mouth and took off for the restroom.

The next time thing I knew, I heard a gentle Southern voice call me, "Talia? Are you ok, sweetie?"

After I finished puking what little food I had in me, I felt a bit better but felt a little weak. I replied, "I am ok."

But when I tried to stand up and head to wash my hands, I faltered, and Calleigh caught me before I fell.

Calleigh said, "Whoa. Looks like you need to sit down."

Calleigh helped me out, and after I got my hands washed, she said straight out, "Talia, I noticed you have not been eating. Have you thought about the fact you may be pregnant?"

It only occurred to me that it may be the case. I have not been regular like I usually am. I am bloated, cranky, and have been having light spotting.

One positive pregnancy test and a confirmation from her ObGyn was the confirmation I needed. Horatio and I expect our second child and little Erin to be a big sister and have either a baby sister or baby brother.

Lonely and Universe

Natalia had always felt lonely when it came to her love life. She had plenty of guys who wanted to date her, and she had plenty of dates, but none worked out. Of course, her marriage to Nick was a complete failure. She felt like the universe was mocking her.

However, she didn't realize she wouldn't be lonely for much longer.

Treasure

As he watched Natalia feed their newborn daughter, Horatio couldn't help but be in awe.

One thing is for sure, Horatio would always treasure what he had with Natalia. Their loss of a spouse (or ex-spouse) brought them together. While his circumstance was drastically different from Natalia's, the grief was the same. He knows that he will protect her with everything he in power to do so.

A/N 2: Thanks for reading Love and Family. As always reviews are appreciated!

#csi: miami #Eva LaRue #Natalia Boa Vista #David Caruso #Horatio Caine

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lonelypond · 4 years

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Surprise PARTAY!!! In The (Idol) House

Nico Maki, Love Live, 4K, 1/1

SUMMARY: Everyone has a plan for Nishikino Maki's birthday. Which one is the winner?

SURPRISE PARTAY!!! IN THE IDOL HOUSE

TWO NIGHTS BEFORE NISHIKINO MAKI'S BIRTHDAY

Hoshizora Rin flumped, hanging her upper torso down off the bed she and Koizumi Hanayo were sharing to watch the latest installment of Idol House.

“ ‘S weird, Kayo-chin, we were talking about all this with Maki two weeks ago and now it’s on TV.” Rin did an ab curl.

“Having only a two week delay is HUGE." Hanayo's eyes gleamed behind her glasses. She loved talking Idol House. "Nico worked so hard for the initial set up, to make everything go smoothly. She originally pushed for one week, but there was no way editing and song rights could have happened.”

Rin giggled. “It’s like Maki’s in soooper slow motion.”

Rin bounced a leg impatiently, Hanayo leaned down to pull her up, “Come on, it’s coming back. Maybe we’ll see Maki.”

But no, they cut to a conversation in one of the three girl’s bedroom, Kawano Aki talking to Bokeh Blossom guitarist Harada Mai, who had switched rooms with Yazawa Nico after Kawano confessed her crush on Muse’s tiny tempest.

Aki was lying prone in the bottom bunk, dressed in sweats, her arms wrapped around her favorite huge purple plushie. Fluffy bathrobe pulled around her, Mai was sipping from a mug of herbal tea in the padded, circular seat catercorner to the bunks.

“They fight all the time, Mai-chan. Maki-chan…”

“Maki-chan?” RIn and Mai spoke at the same time, Rin sitting up, suspicious.

Aki shrugged and blushed, “She is awfully cute. And it’s no wonder she’s grumpy. Nico leaves her down in the recording studio alone for half the night. Just yesterday, I heard Nico shouting at Maki-chan that she needed to put a better effort into Shizu-chan’s new song. And why is Shizu-chan getting Muse’s composer to work on her solo?”

Mai shook her head, “Maybe she didn’t tell Japan about her crush on the composer’s fiancee?”

AKi frowned, “Shizu-chan has a crush on Nico? Well, Nico’s being so nice to her…”

“No, Aki-san, I meant you.” Mai quietly correcting.

Aki shook herself, disgruntled, pounded the plushie a little, and shifted so she was sitting cross legged on the bed, “Well, I don’t think Nico’s so nice anymore. Maki’s probably used to being fussed over and instead of fancy takeout or bentos, Nico just leaves these...dented soup thermoses full of curry or something and disappears. Maki-chan’s probably used to expensive restaurants. Her parents own a hospital, they're super rich, it’s why they didn’t want her on the show.”

“Really?” Mai seemed surprised.

“Yeah, I looked her up on a Muse fansite.”

Hanayo and Rin held hands for comfort, “Maki’s not going to like this.”

“Nico’s going to hate this.” Hanayo sighed.

“The site said Maki-chan’s birthday’s coming up. I think we should throw her a party.” Aki put the plushie aside, “Shizu-chan suggested it because Maki’s been so helpful.”

“Nope.” Rin shouted, waving a fist at the screen. “You’re lying, Aki-san.”

Mai took another sip. “That could be fun. Have you talked to Nico?”

Aki pouted. “She’s too busy. She’s got that sakura shoot in Kyoto.”

“I bet Nico has already made plans.”

“From what I heard it didn’t sound like it.” Aki slid closer, whispering.

“What did you hear?” Mai put her mug down and leaned forward.

TWO WEEKS AGO

Maki was sitting behind her keyboards, headphones on, eyes closed as she concentrated. Nico paused in the door for a moment, jacket over her arm, to enjoy the sight of Maki totally absorbed in music, luxurious eyelashes fluttering, luscious lips mouthing lyrics. Nico missed that voice, she was sorry she didn’t have more time to spend here with Maki working on music, but if Nico was going to really launch her solo careeer in two and half months, she had a lot of miles and hours to put in. Plus, Maki was so relaxed here, in the recording studio, with the best equipment, able to move more than she had cramped up in her room with a laptop and midi synth, hiding her habits from her parents. After a few minutes, and Maki's luscious lips mouthing lyrics Nico didn't know, Nico couldn’t watch anymore, and just decided it was time to slide her arms around her talented, gorgeous, spaced out fiancée. But Nico had forgotten just how spaced out Maki could get when she was working out a problem, so when Nico’s hands slid over Maki’s, Maki screamed and jumped, Nico reflexively holding onto the chair so Maki didn’t tilt onto the floor.

“Nico-chan?!!!!???" Maki's voice trembled, "What are you doing, why did you, that was….”

“I’m sorry, Maki, I thought you saw me…”

Maki snapped, “I wasn’t expecting a ninja stalker.”

Nico grinned, “Nico did look dangerously hot in that ninja photoshoot back then.”

Maki reached for the power cord that had been pulled out of the computer, “The only thing you’re a danger to is electronic devices.”

“Hey, you’re the one who nearly knocked the laptop over. Don’t blame Nico.”

“I almost had it, Nico...you know how I work, why did you interrupt me?" Maki scowled, "I’m doing this for your stupid show.”

“It’s not a stupid show,” Nico turned to the camera, glitter smiled and did her signature move, “Nico Nico Ni, you know how important it is for people to see the real work Idols put in. Too many people think we’re silly airheads.”

“I WAS working and you…” Maki had her headset in one hand, gesturing with it, “Can I get back now, before I totally lose the counterpoint.”

Nico sighed and shrugged, “Sure. Nico is sorry she scared you.”

Maki’s voice was almost a shout, “I wasn’t scared.”

Nico fluttered her eyelashes alluringly, “Nico just wanted to see if you wanted an escort home.”

Maki put the headphones around her neck, leaned over the table, glancing at the clock on the laptop, “Nah, I’m going be up for a couple of hours to finish this. And I’ll sleep on the couch down here.”

“You could come up to Nico’s room.”

“I thought we agreed that wasn’t a good idea.”

Aki had been standing outside the door, waiting for a moment to break into the conversation. As soon as she pushed the door open, Nico’s head swivelled, ruby eyes narrowing. Then Nico relaxed, “Hi, Aki. Did you need Nico?”

Aki toyed with her ponytail, “I didn’t know you were here, Nico.”

Maki snorted and leaned into her hand, elbow propped next to her laptop, laser focused on the distance Nico was keeping from her former bunkmate.

“Nico is ninja tonight.” Nico glanced back to stick out her tongue at Maki, who rolled her eyes.

“I was wondering if Maki-chan wanted a snack.”

Maki saw irritation flash across Nico’s face and didn’t know why, but when Nico answered Aki, there was only the slightest whip of sarcasm as Nico began, “Maki-CHAN is fine. Nico is taking care of her. But it’s so late, Aki. And Nico’s been telling you that there’s nothing better for an idol’s skin than 8 hours of sleep.”

Maki wondered when the last time Nico had slept for that long.

Nico put a weighted arm around Aki’s shoulder and hurried her to the door, “Why don’t you try the cucumber mask Nico showed you the other night? Nico will check later to make sure you placed the cucumbers right.”

“Thanks, Nico-chan.”

“Nico Nico no problem.” Nico flashed her hand gesture, shut the door solidly, turned the lock and faced Maki, leaning casually back, “Nico misses you.”

“I’m sure the centimeter Kawano-san’s skirts lose everyday soothes you.”

“Nico doesn’t notice.”

Maki glared at Nico as she dropped back into her chair.

Nico pushed off the door and ran a hand through her hair, “Nico doesn’t care.”

“I do.”

Nico was behind the chair again, her mouth close to Maki’s ear, “Can we try this again?”

After a hesitation, Maki nodded.

Nico slid her hands down Maki’s arms, squeezing Maki’s hands before pullling the composer into a hug, “I missed you. I’m sorry I have to leave before breakfast.”

“Oh..is that…”

“Kyoto.”

Maki’s forehead hit the keyboard, “This April sucks.”

“Nico will make it up to you.”

Maki slid the headphones up, surprising Nico with a smile, “I know it’s important. And I love you.”

“Thanks.” Nico leaned against the table, staring into the tempting warmth of Maki’s eyes as she took Maki’s left hand, running her fingers over the stones of the engagment ring. “Once Nico gets everything set up, we’ll have more time together.”

“Good.”

“Come upstairs and snuggle.”

Maki blushed and shook her head. Three in a room was not a thrill or a draw for Maki.

“Okay, Nico will stay here for awhile.” Nico pulled her shirt out of her skirt, pulled up her knees after she sat, and wrapped a throw around herself.

“Listen to this for me, Nico-chan.” Maki moved a lever and the speakers came on.

“Any time.” Nico would sit on nails, glass, and lava for the brilliant gleam in those sharp, amethyst eyes. Maki’s daredevil grin brightening all of Tokyo when Nico was all in on Maki was a more enticing show than anything Nico had ever imagined.

ONE WEEK AGO

All of the residents agreed that one of the coolest things about Idol House was that it was also Muse House, with Nico living there, Hanayo helping with social media, Umi leading workouts, long distance dance tips from Eli, Maki in the basement, Kotori dropping off clothing samples, Rin leading a dawn run three times a week, Nozomi dropping by via virtual hangout to gossip and to give insights from her cards, and possibly everyone’s favorite perq, Honoka sweeping through occasionally with an encouraging smile and a week’s worth of desserts from Homura. Today was drop off day and Honoka popped in, glad to be away from the bakery for an afternoon.

“Honoka-chan!” Aki had been waiting in the kitchen, taking Hanayo's advice and making supportive comments on fellow house members TWIG posts, although she ignored Nico’s posts from Kyoto. Three weeks, two guest spots, several photoshoots. Aki didn’t know what Nico’s trick to success was, but she was determined to at least get a Nishikino Maki tune of her own, if not Nishikino Maki.

“Aki-chan! You look cute today!” Honoka put down the stack of boxes with a sigh of relief.

“Let me get you a juice.”

“Thanks!” Honoka sat at the table, glad to have someone getting her a cold drink instead of fussing at her like her mom did.

“So did you hear about Maki’s birthday party?” Aki asked over her shoulder.

Honoka tilted her head, puzzled. She knew Nico had planned a surprise Muse get together and Rin and Hanayo were going to take Maki out to dinner and bring her to the restaurant they'd all decided on since Nico had to nearly hit hyperspeed to get back to Tokyo in time. “Yeah, Maki’ll be surprised.”

Aki took a deep breath, “You know we’re having it here, right, the night before so we can all watch the broadcast together.”

“But RIn and Hanayo were…” Honoka scratched her head.

“Oh, Rin went and told Maki…”

Honoka snorted, “And Nico thought I was going to be the one spoiling the surprise. I can keep a secret.”

“I knew I could count on you." Aki patted Honoka's hand, "Muse really benefited from your leadership.”

Honoka reached into the box she’d placed on the table and pulled out a daifuku, “Nah, we decided not to have a leader. Or Eli would have been if she’d joined earlier.”

Aki opened another box, “Ooh, sakura mochi. Thanks, Honoka-chan, you’re the sweetest.”

“Better eat them before Nico gets back. She never admits to having a sweet tooth, but Maki says she can never find a dessert after…” Honoka froze, suddenly remembering she was in a house full of cameras and Umi’s lectures on not revealing private details ever, but especially when visiting Idol House, especially about Nico, because EVERYONE wanted to know things about off camera, behind the scenes Nico.

“Are you making the birthday cake?”

“Me and Kotori always make the cakes.”

“That’s so sweet. I hope I find people who help me like you help each other.”

Honoka finished her bun, debating whether she wanted another or just the juice. “Well, now you know us.”

“That’s the most amazing…” Aki hugged herself, it really was amazing that THE Kousaka Honoka just bounced into the kitchen to talk about anything. She was never leaving Idol House. It was too exciting.

Juice, Honoka decided. “I guess I’ll see you next week for the party. I’ll have to get Umi to remind me.”

“Just give me your number and I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good.” Honoka bumped her phone against Aki’s.

BACK TO THE RIN PANA BEDROOM

Rin’s phone played "Start Dash". “It’s Honoka. She wants to know what time she’s supposed to bring the cake tomorrow.”

“Maki’s party is in two days.”

Rin typed rapidly, “Yeah, I’m telling her.” Rin read the reply and whistled, “She says Aki-san says Nico moved it to tomorrow because I ruined the surprise.” Rin’s chartreuse cat eyes were wide as she stared at Hanayo, “I didn’t ruin the surprise.”

“No.” Hanayo glanced at the screen where the studio team was discussing Aki’s sudden interest in Maki, “Oh no!”

“Oh no?” Rin asked quizzically, then shouted, “OH NO!”

“We have to call Nico!”

“And Maki!”

Hanayo hesitated, “But if we do anything to mess up the show…”

Rin interupted, “If it’s a surprise party Aki throws, Maki will hate it.”

“Maki will hate it.”

Maki’s our friend, Kayo-chin. We have to tell her.”

Hanayo hummed, nodding, her fingers pushing into each other.

“Kayo-chin?”

“I’ll talk to Nico first.”

Rin frowned, then threw herself back into the pillows, “All right. But then I call Maki.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Rin grabbed the remote.

THE DAY BEFORE MAKI’S BIRTHDAY

Rin paced the clubroom, “Maki’s not in school, not answering her phone, not at the House.”

Hanayo glanced up from her phone, “Nico hasn’t heard from her either, but Nico hasn’t really been available.”

The club room door slammed open and Honoka fell in, followed by Umi.

“We have a problem.” Honoka annouced.

In contrast to Honoka's vibrating with concern, Umi sounded her most serious. “We have an opportunity, Honoka, to model proper behavior for our peers.”

Honoka grabbed snack bread out of her bag and tilted her chair back as Umi fussed at her.

“What do you mean?” Rin asked.

“You saw last night’s Idol House too and you know Aki-san is plotting something.” Hanayo sped through her words as she connected clues.

Umi settled very primly into her usual seat, ‘Yes, that was the final clue. Honoka had been bothered by a conversation she had with Kawano-san last week, suggesting Nico changed the plans for Maki’s birthday party.”

Honoka nodded, “It took me awhile, but there was something very weird about our conversation. So I asked Maki and Umi.”

“YOU TOLD MAKI ABOUT THE PARTY!?!” Hanayo squealed.

Honoka shrugged, “Rin would have ruined the surprise anyway.”

Rin got to her feet, hand slapped to her heart, “Rin can keep secrets.”

Hanayo smiled fondly at Rin, “We know, Rin.”

“Honoka is just deflecting blame for having spoiled my surprise party last month.” Umi tapped the table.

“UMI!”

“Hah!” Rin pumped both fists in the air.

Umi reined in the mood, “Rin, Honoka, please control yourselves. We need to make a plan.”

Hanayo slid her chair from the computer screens to the table, “What do you want us to do, Umi?”

IDOL HOUSE, EVENING BEFORE MAKI'S BIRTHDAY, AS KAWANO AKI SETS UP A PARTY

“Shizu-chan, can you go see if Maki-chan is ready to take a break? I bet she’s been working all day.”

“Maki-san is not here today, Aki.”

Aki leaned away from the banner she was hanging. She’d had a makeover session with a stylist that ran late and started setting up the party as soon as she got back to the House. “I thought you had a recording session this afternoon.”

Shizu smiled, “I had to reschedule.”

“Oh, I wonder if she’s…”

“AKI-SAN!” Honoka bounced in, waving, “That’s such a cool banner. I brought a cake.” Honoka carefully placed a box on the kitchen counter.

“That’s great, Honoka. Just give me a minute and I’ll take a look. If Maki-chan’s not here…”

“Maki is not here.” Umi announced, as she placed a laptop and projector on the table, “And since you find yourself with free time, we have a wonderful opportunity to discuss why integrity is the foundation of success in any industry or situation.”

“Um.” Aki got down from the step ladder, looking confused.

“Unless you have an objection, Kawano-san?” Umi’s expression was tightly masked anger, but her voice was sickly sweet. Aki suddenly felt nervous.

“Of course, not, Sonoda-san.” Aki bowed, as Honoka nodded approvingly, “Please teach me.”

“Take a seat.” Umi pointed to a specific seat, in case Aki mistakenly thought there were options.

“And then cake and karaoke, right, Umi-chan? Rin-chan can’t beat my score…”

“FIRST, Honoka, we watch the presentation. Attentively.”

“Right.” Honoka suddenly hoped Umi would dim the lights so maybe she could take a quick nap. Rin had been smarter, deciding to show up AFTER the lecture.

Umi smiled at Aki, “Feel free to take notes.”

KYOTO, AFTERNOON OF THE DAY BEFORE MAKI’S BIRTHDAY

Nico hadn’t heard from Maki since yesterday lunch and after texting with Hanayo this morning, she was worried. But Honoka had texted that she and Umi were taking care of it, so Nico didn’t just walk off the set. It was too early in her career to be anything but cheerful and helpful no matter how many cute girls were trying to hijack your fiancée’s birthday party. It was always too early in your career, but right now, Nico was working especially hard to build a reputation as flexible, dedicated, and professional.

The Kyoto temple setting was almost beautiful enough to take her mind off Maki. Nico watched blossom full branches bounce gently in the wind, creating a gorgeous floral tunnel through the red torii gates of the shrine. The pink and white against the red was breathtaking and Nico watched the video crew set up, excited to be filming here. And then a flash of moving red caught her eye, a smiling redhead in a soft pink and white floral dress, a long sky blue coat open, walking confidently through the gates. A hallucination? A dream? No, Nico shook her head, watching as Maki reached up with an easy grace to let her fingers glide through the silky blossoms as she neared, a vision of earthly beauty touching on divine, the jewels on her engagement ring glinting in the sun. Sweetness, confidence, and poised beauty demanded Nico’s immediate approach. Nico had to stop herself from running, but she lifted her kimono skirt so it wouldn’t impede power walking.

“Hi, Nico-chan. You blossom.” Maki offered her hand. Nico wondered if this was actually a scene from a movie, rather than the ordinary, daily life of Yazawa Nico, aspiring super celebrity idol and number one producer in the universe. But whatever this was, she caught Maki’s hand in hers and pulled today’s gorgeous surprise gift closer.

“Hi, Maki-chan. People are looking for you. In Tokyo.”

Maki’s eyes widened with fake innocence and she spoke in the tone Nico had come to recognize as indicating Maki had done something she thought clever. “But I’m here.”

“Why are you here?”

Maki continued smug, using her explain math to Cocoa voice, “It’s my birthday tomorrow, Nico-chan.”

“Nico knows. We had a surprise party all set up.”

Maki shrugged, other hand in her coat pocket, glorious amethyst eyes glowing as she glanced up at the fragrant cherry blossoms surrounding the path, casually leading Nico away from the crew. “I wanted to be here." Maki looked straight into Nico’s lustful heart and winked. "It’s scenic.”

Nico still had Maki’s hand and she pulled the redhead to a stop, her wooden geta adding enough height that she could peck Maki on the cheek easily. “Nico didn’t notice until now.”

Maki nodded, pleased at Nico’s attentiveness, and continued her steal Nico away stroll, “It was nice of you to reserve the Suite Tsukimi at the Ritz Carlton for us, Nico-chan. There’s a private moon viewing deck and a Japanese garden.” Maki giggled. “It’s exactly the kind of place I’d want to spend my birthday.”

Ah, Maki had been planning this long before the surprise parties. Nico chuckled, swinging Maki’s hand. “Of course, Nico knew that.”

“Of course. Nico knows everything.” Maki checked to make sure they were out of view of the shrine and pulled Nico in for a hug, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Maki-chan.”

“I’m proud of you.” Maki stepped back, sounding pleased and worried, “And you look so cute in your kimono. Maybe I should have worn one?”

“No.” Nico flipped Maki’s gossamer skirt gently, enjoying Maki's slight shiver at the contact, “You are perfect.”

Maki blushed, both hands going back to her pockets,

“Nico plans to show you how perfect as soon as we wrap up here.” Nico's voice was soft, but certain.

Suddenly eager, Maki pulled a bag out from behind her back. Nico hadn’t noticed the strap over her shoulder, “I brought my Fuji. Will they mind if I take some pictures of you?”

“Sure. Nico will make sure no one bothers you. Take some of the the cherry blossoms too. This feels like a blessing.” Pleasure bubbling through contentment, Nico held out her arms and spun, “Nico knows there will be gray days, and no sleep days, and no gorgeous surprise visitor days, but today, Nico wants to keep this all close to remember.”

Maki had her cell phone out and Nico heard the soft click, as Maki whispered, “Yeah.”

Nico glanced at the screen. She hadn’t noticed the drifting petals or how the dappled white pink of the kimono made her look like a cascading charm of blossoms against the red of the gates as she smiled sweetly up at the bright blue sky, but Maki had caught all that. “You’re showing promise, Nishikino." Nico announced with a playful gruffness, "You can take all of Nico’s promotional pics.” Nico pushed into Maki’s shoulder, “And write all of Nico’s hit songs.”

“Would that make your life easier or mine?”

Nico laughed, shrugging, grabbing Maki’s waist to pull her in for a bold kiss, “Ours. Happy Birthday, Maki. Spend them all with me. Just like this.”

“Well, that was my plan.” Maki tapped the ring she'd given Nico, in case Nico needed a reminder.

“Marry a smart girl, that’s Nico’s advice.”

“But I want you.”

Nico frowned, Maki laughed and claimed her own kiss, “Sorry, Nico-chan, you’re just so cute when you're aggravated.”

“Nico might decide to do the SMART thing and spend the evening comparing her career options before catching up on her sleep, alone. It might be good for Nico’s complexion.”

Maki pouted. Nico didn’t let her sulk long, It was too bright a day.

“Or maybe Nico will try out a local honeymoon spot she’s heard so much about.”

Maki stepped closer, her scent a light musk in this celestial, floral heaven, her eyes so bright Nico would swear there were flickering flames in the faceted depths, “I could help.”

“Nico would need help.” Nico licked her lips, feeling the pull that always drew her in, Maki tilting her head, a look of surprised wonder just waiting to bloom.

As their lips resealed, with crackling fireworks, their bond and their hands found each other by instinct, Nico felt as if blossoms, pink and perfect, carving in soft sweeps and swallows the shape of Maki’s lips, were bursting, tingling, through her skin. Love, this love, sakura soft in this Spring, was going to turn Nico poet. And Maki was going to get Nico fired. Nico heard footsteps approaching, someone muttering Yazawa-san.

“I have to go, Maki-chan.” Nico forced herself away, It got more difficult with every caress that brought them closer.

Maki’s smile was another sun on this bright, blessed day as she raised her camera in salute, “I’ll keep my eye on you.”

Perfect dreamfuel.

A/N: I appreciate your patience with the delay in my other ongoing stories, but I feel like I've had a much needed reboot by revisiting this AU. Added bonus: it's fun to fanfic travel on a Nishikino Maki budget.

Happy Birthday to the gloriously grumpy, fabulously kind Nishikino Maki!!! And thank you to everyone I've met here who shares an affection for these lively and silly idols. I hope this brightens your day. Take care!

#NicoMaki #Happy Birthday Maki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Idol House #RinPana #Koizumi Hanayo #Hoshizora Rin #Sonoda Umi #Kousaka Honoka #Terrace House inspired #fluff #Kyoto #Cherry blossoms #Sakura #Spring #Love Live School Idol Fest

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