#and you see his golden hair and citrine eyes and smile that is so kind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Lipstick Stain (Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)

Summary: Maxwell brings you to a gala, but it seems like you can’t get what you want from him.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, slight period-typical misogyny, SMUT 18+, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected P in V sex (wrap it before you tap it babes) in a sort of semi-public space

A/N: it’s Max Lord day, I had to! I’ve been meaning to write more outside of my mains lately so this is an attempt at that! Please let me know if you have any characters I don’t write for as often that you’d like to see more of!

Maxwell Lord is obsessed with his public image. Of course he is, when he’s trying to cultivate a reputation as a rich, oil-laden mogul. He takes you to the fanciest clubs in parties, dressed in the height of 1984 fashion. He pays for your expensive haircuts, which currently features teased bangs and long waves.

Tonight, you’re at a gala. Your dress is a long, citrine-orange wrap that shimmers and has a high slit. Maxwell picked it out for you at some expensive store in Downtown D.C., insisted that you wear the color that would make all of his wishes come true when he finally found that stone. The two of you had posed for photos as you wandered in, your heels sinking into the plush velvet carpet beneath you.

“Maxie,” you sing softly in his ear as you wander up from behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He’s talking with a group of powerful men, many of whom you recognize from Forbes or television. The martini in his hand nearly spills when he jumps from the way your fingertips find the small of his back.

He excuses himself from the men and wraps his arms around your waist as you straighten his bowtie. “Dearest,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your bangs-covered forehead, his lips tasting of your hairspray as he pulls away. “What seems to be the problem?”

You look up at him with admiring eyes, a soft smile on your painted lips. You’re wearing so much makeup you can practically feel it move with your cheeks as the smile moves them. “Nothing,” you grin at him. This isn’t your natural environment: you were never famous before you met Maxwell. You were practically unknown, unlike the other millionaire’s wives and playthings that congregated near the bar. “I just think you look so handsome tonight,” you grin and cup the side of his face, worn but soft from the copious amounts of biotin oil he rubs into it every night. “How late do you feel like staying?” You ask softly as his hand finds its way on top of yours.

Max sighs. “It’s not how late I feel like staying, love. It’s how late these men feel like staying.”

You knew that would be the answer, but you frown anyway. “Maxie.”

“I know, I know,” he nods and pulls you a little closer. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be here. But I- we need this. Black Gold needs this. If I can convince just one of those men to invest, I swear we’ll finally-”

With a soft kiss, you cut off his words. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, honey,” you chuckle as you break away, sliding your fingers under one of his suspender straps. “I know. It’s alright. I’m just… feeling tired. Not my kind of people,” you admit as you scan the room. It’s so stuffy, bland house music playing and the small dance floor nearly completely empty.

Maxwell doesn’t like these kinds of functions either. You can tell, from the way his hands quiver in yours as you walk in, from the way he downs a drink before he can talk to anyone and then sips at another for the rest of the night. “Well, you’re the most beautiful woman here,” he assures you, a hand tracing down your sides, over the shimmering, pale orange fabric. “No one could even hold a candle to you,” he murmurs as his hand drifts lower, to the bare skin of your thigh beneath the slit.

“Maxwell,” you warn as you breathe out a chuckle, snapping the suspender against his chest. “Careful.”

He smiles a little, glad he could boost your mood for even a few moments. “Not my fault you’re the most ravishing woman here,” he mumbles next to your ear.

“Do you want a paparazzo to take a photo of this, hm?” You tease, pressing a kiss to the side of his face and grinning at the pinkish-red stain. “It’ll label you as some kind of rake, an exhibitionist,” you giggle as his hand rubs against the soft skin there. It goes higher, tugging at the lacy strap of your panties over your hip. You make a soft noise of surprise and rest your head against his shoulder.

“Please,” he chuckles and shakes his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m Maxwell Lord, darling. I can do whatever the fuck I want, especially with you,” he murmurs, kissing you again. He sighs and his hand returns to your waist. “I need to go and talk shop again. Come with me.”

You groan and pout, looking up at him and holding him by the suspenders again. “Max. I don’t want to look like some trophy wife.”

“Hey, you said you’re bored. At least you can listen in on what we’re saying and help me strategize. It’d be a real help to me,” he offers, chuckling as you take a martini and take a swig, leaving a lipstick stain on the rim. “Then I’ll take you home and get that fancy dress off that perfect body.”

“Fine,” you sigh. You finish the drink in two more gulps and pat his side. “I’ll be right back, with two more of these.”

The night is boring. You listen to the men talk, giving sharp smiles when a man makes a chauvinist comment to you. This is the part you have to play, you remind yourself. This is for Max. You’ll put up with it to help him.

Finally, the room starts to slowly empty, millionaires filing out and into their limousines to take them to their Arlington mansions just across the Potomac. Maxwell stays to the very end, you hanging on his arm and tired.

When the room is nearly empty, the DJ finally plays some good music. It’s a song you and Maxwell both love, and you perk up as you hear it, standing up taller in your heels. “Maxie!” You coo, walking towards the dance floor. “Come on.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes but with a smile on his face as he follows you. You kick off your heels as the floor turns from carpet to vinyl beneath your feet. Maxwell takes off the jacket of his suit, loosening his bowtie. There’s hardly anyone important here to see it, and you grin as you tug him along by the patterned suspenders.

Once you’re on the floor, Maxwell takes you in his arms and sways you along to the song. It’s a slow and sexy number, some new song by George Michael that’s heavy on the saxophone and he buries his face in your neck as he murmurs the lyrics. You’ve always known Maxwell has a pretty good voice, and it makes you smile to hear it. Your feet move in time across the floor, Maxwell’s hand slipping from your waist to your bare thigh once more. “Maxie,” you sigh, your hands climbing up the back of his neck and into his golden-blonde waves.

The hand slides higher, and you can feel it toying at the lacy strap of your panties. “Maxwell,” you shiver. “Take me home.” To seal the deal, to make it impossible for him to say no, you grind your hips against his, feeling him harden beneath his suit pants. Your hands slide his suspenders off his shoulders. They dangle around his waist, emphasizing the desperate look he’s already feeling deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay, darling,” he breathes and pulls you back to the table, grabbing his suit jacket and bowtie in one hand and your heels in the other. You giggle and wrap an arm around him, the two of you rushing outside as Maxwell’s jacket hangs in front of his crotch to hide his growing erection.

The two of you spot the limo, with Black Gold Cooperative emblazoned on the side. The driver opens the door and the two of you slide inside. As soon as the door closes behind you, Maxwell opens the small divider window and shouts at the driver to get you home. He closes it and pulls up the privacy system in a heartbeat.

While he does that, you find your way to your knees on the floor of the limo, smirking as you unclasp the wrap’s chest snap to show off your breasts beneath the dress. When Maxwell turns back, he unintentionally moans at the sight, your teased hair messy and your tits exposed in the lacy white bra you wore beneath it. “Oh fuck, darling,” he murmurs and cups the side of your face. His other hand unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt while your nimble fingers undo the fly of his pants.

Beneath the suit, he wears no underwear. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you push them down slightly to find Maxwell’s bare and straining cock. “Maxie,” you murmur and a shiver runs through your body. “So naughty,” you chuckle and press a kiss to his shaft, leaving a lipstick stain there.

“Says the one on her knees for me,” he breathes, choking out a moan and his head falling back into the leather seats. His hand buries itself in your hair, gripping it unintentionally hard.

You take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and focusing on the frenulum. You drag your fingertips feather-lightly over his balls, making his dick twitch and his thighs tense. “You’re going to kill me,” he groans.

You suddenly sink all the way down on him, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You suppress a gag, making tears form at the corner of your eye. He grunts helplessly, biting on his lip, and the noises he makes are all worth it.

You pull away, until just the tip is on your flattened tongue. Maxwell is aching, dripping precum now. “Get up here and fuck me, baby girl.”

You pull away with a loud, wet noise and grin up at him, your lipstick smeared around your mouth. You look like an absolute wreck and Maxwell couldn’t be more in love with it. Your eyeliner is slightly smudged at the corners of your eyes, the tears from choking around his dick sitting there and refusing to drip.

Sitting back on your heels, you hike your skirt up until it’s around your waist. You climb over Maxwell’s lap, hovering above his dick. “Want you to cum in me,” you murmur as your forehead falls onto his shoulder when he pushes your lace panties aside and runs two thick fingers through your folds.

“I can do anything you want, darling,” he mutters, sinking his teeth into the skin of your throat. “Just say the word and I’m all yours.”

“Please,” you groan, shivering as the air-conditioning begins blasting through the back of the limousine and the cool breeze brushes your sweating neck. “Please, Maxie. Fuck me.”

“There we go,” he shudders and lowers you onto his dick, your panties tucked to the side. His movements are slow. Maxwell is fully conscious of how large his dick is, and he knows it always stretches you open despite the millions of times you’ve done this before. “Good girl,” he groans as you’re seated all the way on his dick. “Feels so fucking good on top of me.”

The sensation is so hot, the strips of bare skin on both your and Maxwell’s chest meeting in select spots, the rest covered by the silky fabric of your respective formal garments. Maxwell’s thick, ring-clad fingers slide between his hips and yours, rubbing tight little circles into your clit immediately and grunting. You cry out at the feeling and push yourself up only to slam your hips back down to his. “Take what you need, darling,” he assures you, bucking his own hips up into yours.

Nodding, you lift your head from his shoulder to kiss at his neck, tracing your tongue along his jugular as you bounce up and down at him. Soft noises of pleasure drift from your lips, and Maxwell’s fingers follow you up and down, stimulating you all the while. “Feels so good, doesn’t it baby?” He murmurs to you, grabbing the back of your head and pulling it to the side so his lips can descend onto your jaw. “You love this. Would’ve done this at the gala if I asked, wouldn’t you?” He murmurs.

“Yes,” you cry out, nodding softly and feeling the tug of his hands gripping your hair when you do so. “Anything for you.” He’s an overwhelming presence of a man normally: in your face, loud, enthusiastic and hopeful. His presence is equally heavy as his large hands are all over your body, his thick cock buried inside of you, his firm chest pressed to your soft breasts.

One particularly hard grunt comes from the back of Maxwell’s throat. “Baby girl,” he shudders beneath you. “You’re getting so close, aren’t you? I can feel it. I am too.”

You nod and your head falls into the curve of his neck, resting your face there and breathing in his expensive cologne and sweat. “Please, Maxie,” you groan out and grind your hips against him while he’s fully sheathed in you. “Cum in me.”

“You first,” he says breathlessly, teeth gritting in concentration to hold back. “Tell me how you feel, darling.”

A few more strokes to your clit do the trick, making you fall apart in his arms. “Max,” you practically sob into his neck and your arms grip at his broad shoulders desperately, your orgasm wrecking your body, making you shake all over and your thighs lose all of the power they had to bounce on him. “Feels so fucking good,” you cry as your head falls back, body pressed against his. “No one else can do it like you, Maxie.”

Maxwell can’t hold back any longer either, not with the way your walls clench him desperately hard and your body practically vibrates. “You’re fucking right,” he growls and takes over the job of the thrusts, both hands gripping your waist as he pushes his hips into yours again and again. “Because you’re mine, baby girl. All mine. And when we hit that oil I’m going to get a big fucking office and fuck you over the desk while you look over the D.C. skyline. How does that sound?”

“So good,” you whimper. He’s not sure if it’s from the way your body is still possessed by the orgasm or his words, but it seals it when you speak again. “In front of your fucking associates. Show them I’m yours.”

The words from your mouth sound infinitesimally dirtier than when Max could say it. Combined with your fluttering walls, it sends him over the edge. His dick buried deep inside of you, he shoots rope after rope of hot liquid into you, desperately crying your name and clinging to you as it rolls through his body like a rising tide.

The two of you sit there, spent and sweaty and sticky, for just a moment before you can feel the limousine come to a stop. Looking out the window, you can see you’re home. “Perfect timing, Maxie,” you breathe softly and lift your hips, sliding your panties back into place. He tucks himself back in his pants and adjusts his messy hair, pulling his suspender straps back up.

“I meant it,” he presses a kiss to your face as you sit back down next to him then scoot out of the car. “I’m going to give you the most wonderful life you can imagine when we hit oil. You’ll never want for anything again.”

Max tosses a bill with a high dollar amount into the passenger window, for the driver’s tip. You wait until he’s standing, taking his hand and leading him to the front door. “I don’t want anything now. I have you, I have this gorgeous life, and I have the ability to fuck my famous lover in the back of a limo. What more could I want, Maxie?”

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @maxlordsgf

#maxwell lord fanfic #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #maxwell lord headcanons #Maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord x you #ww84 #wonder woman 1984 #wonder woman 84

105 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

The Handmaiden🌹1

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Princess Madeline has left her homeland to marry a king. On her journey, she has brought her most trusted handmaiden. Little do either of them know how perilous their new home will be.

Note: Alright, here’s another medieval AU ft. King Steve. His darkness will build as we go and we’re gonna ride those vibes, thots. I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Madeline was the fairest woman you’d ever seen. Her strawberry blonde waves flowed like water down her back and shoulders. Her jaw was etched by the gods themselves and her lips were soft to the eye and as you guessed, the touch. Her eyes were like gems and her figure was graceful and lithe. Her voice was a melody and her laugh like the pluck of a string.

How could she not be perfect? Porcelain and precious. She was a princess. The eldest of Eddor.

It would be unnatural not to envy her. Not to compare your ordinary features with her extraordinary ones. Not to measure your circumstance against hers. You had grown up in her shadow. Once a playmate, now a maid. You served as her closest companion and attendant. A mere servant, you were but another accessory among many.

Your jealousy was not spiteful. Many a peasant lived a life worse than yours. You did not complain or want. It was the order of things. The world as it was.

She was serene, often intimidatingly calm. That day, you could see the nervous tension in her cheek. Not many others would notice but you did. You didn’t blame her. She was to meet her betrothed at last. A man more than ten years here elder; of the few men grander than her in prestige; a widower and king.

You stood just a few steps away, hands folded and head slightly bowed in deference. If she needed you, she would call to you. You were glad for the camouflage of your low standing. Among the foreign court, on such a significant day, you were nothing; just another witness.

Your journey was long. A month at sea, a fortnight in a draughty northern castle, a week upon the road, and finally you were in the capital; Halder’s Arch. A night spent awaiting the first meeting and a further hour for the king’s appearance. The other servants were growing restless; Madeline’s ladies, too.

It would be a sad and heartless act to send a princess out upon her own. Sybil and Lucille were the only noblewoman to accompany Madeline. They were to remain at the foreign court and seek their own suitors. Her guards, her priest, and her physician were also among the party as well. Her retinue was finely outfitted.

Finally, the doors shifted and the armoured guards hit their staffs on the stone to announce the arrival. As the hall opened up, you held your breath as Madeline did the same. She raised her chin slightly and rose with the rest to receive her betrothed. A line of lords preceded their king, hidden by the group of men.

The Princess of Eddor was announced first. Her crest bearer spoke loudly for all the people to hear. Then it was the king’s turn. Steven, first of his name, son of Stewart, ruler of Anglhem and its territories. The lords broke and formed two rows as they stood at attention.

King Steven strode between them, as proud and stoic as the princess he would wed. You kept your chin down but watched him below your lashes. His dark blonde hair was thick above a trimmed beard. He wore a simple golden crown without stones, his jacket a turquoise brocade slashes with citrine. A chain of golden links hung from his shoulders with a single sapphire upon it.

It was simple but bespoke a man of intent; of standing. His simplicity said it all. You suspected he dressed for the occasion; a very deliberate impression for his future wife. The capital, the castle, the lords, did not suggest a ruler without extravagance.

The king stopped before Madeline and bowed to her; she curtsied to him in kind. He seemed pleased as he took her hand and kissed it. His eyes flicked all over as he considered his new wife; his second. The first had come to a tragic end during a summer plague not two years past.

“Princess,” He greeted. “It is a privilege and a pleasure to meet you at last. The painter did you an injustice for no canvas could capture such beauty.”

“And you, my king,” She said evenly. “I did hear of a handsome and noble king but the accounts do leave much untold.”

You were always rather amused by such empty courtesies. These words were rehearsed and recited without thought. It was what was expected. A princess could not come off as appalled by her suitor, even if she were, and a king could not be disappointed in a princess, even for a crooked nose or blotchy complexion. It was all an act. You did not envy the fallacy of status.

Your eyes wandered as the royals went about their performance. The audience was rapt and marvelled at the perfect pair; a stately king and a beautiful princess. You bit down to keep from grinning wryly. Your amusement was stifled completely as your eyes were caught by a pair most unexpected.

As Steven was offered a chair to sit with his queen, his gaze strayed from her. You withheld your surprise and assured yourself he was merely distracted by the portrait behind you or perhaps a nick in the stone. It couldn’t be you. Servants were like windows; transparent.

His brow twitched and he looked back to the princess. Her ladies were dazzled by the king’s stature, the lords were pleased by the princess’ grace. All seemed to be in a trance; all but those who held their attention.

Madeline held her veneer only because the cracks could not be noticed by strangers. Steven’s matched hers though you saw no flaw. You only saw a man sure of himself because he knew what to say. To him, it was a ritual, each step another closer to the end.

You straightened at the subtle signal from the princess. She wanted wine. You went to her and took the ewer from the table beside her. You filled the king’s goblet first and presented it to him with a bow. He took it and you repeated the steps for the princess. She thanked you and you didn’t miss the king’s eye. He was watching you. Why?

You resumed your vigil along the wall with the other servants. Your gown differed from no other. The blue-grey wool was plain enough that it could’ve been another stone in the wall. Your cap hid your hair and no ornament sparkled at throat or wrist. You lowered your head as the king turned his goblet in his hand and gazed over at the princess.

You wanted to laugh at yourself. It was preposterous. He hadn’t looked at you for any reason but what you offered; a cup of wine. How could one ignore a figure right before them? You did long for it to be over for the sake of your weary mind. Your travel had left you endlessly exhausted. It was clearly affecting your judgement.

Yet, you peeked up again and the king squinted over at you. You blinked as he grinned and leaned back. He drank from his goblet and returned his gaze to Madeline. She presented him the letter sealed with her father’s crest. He accepted it and she seemed not to notice his wandering eyes.

Maybe because they did not wander. Maybe because he had been thinking and they averted to follow his thoughts. Or he was listening and did consider her words as he considered the room.

You twined your hands together behind your back. You were trained, you were patient, you were attentive. You could bear yet another royal meeting. You could cling to your duty and see it through. You only had to resist the nagging fatigue that caused your mind to drift.

You needed to focus as the princess’ goblet was empty.

🌹

The wedding was already well-prepared. Both parties had settled their arrangements long before that fateful meeting. Steven and his advisers had the date, the feast, the ceremony, all plotted carefully for the next week. Madeline had her gown in her trunk and her virtue intact. Or so it was written in their betrothal.

The princess seemed pleased with her husband. That night she watched herself in the mirror as you brushed out her hair. She touched her long neck and her fingers trailed down to her collarbone. She let out a wearisome sigh.

“Do you think he was taken by me?” She asked. “He was cordial but a marriage cannot survive on cordial.”

“I’ve never known a man who wasn’t taken by you, your highness,” You dragged the bristles through her lush strands. “A king could not hope for a better princess.”

“Oh, so they say,” She preened. “I am told he sent his painter to at least a dozen courts to paint their princesses. Then he was presented with their likeness and he chose me himself.”

“And you were deemed the worthiest to share his crown then,” You said. “I see not how he could be disappointed.”

“And I cannot say I am,” She smiled and batted her lashes. “He is very handsome. I feared when they said he was older than me.”

“He doesn’t appear to suffer from it,” You assured her. “His step is as sure as any youth.”

She was silent as you finished brushing out her hair and you parted it. You began to braid her long tresses before she found her voice again. When she was thoughtful, she was often plotting.

“And the wedding night?” She ventured quietly. “Do you think he will be pleased with me then?”

“I… am certain he should be,” You said stiffly. “I see not how any man cannot be pleased with his wife in such a way.”

She giggled and played with the buttons of her sleeping gown. She eyed you and looked away guiltily. You tilted your head at her and tied up the end of her braid.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Oh, you know,” She stood and turned to you. “I was always told servants were more experienced in those matters, but you are always so modest.”

“As I have served you loyally, when should I have had time to take experience in such matters?”

She laughed and pulled a stray thread from your cap.

“Much too loyal,” She chided. “Let us retire for the night. This kingdom is still strange to me and I do wish to know it better before I am bound to it entirely.”

🌹

Madeline was not to see her betrothed again until the wedding day. Their separation was tradition and ensured the legitimacy of the marriage. Thus, the princess could only emerge from her chambers when she was assured the king was engaged and the corridors were clear.

On the first day after their introduction, she took to the gardens, dewy with the early spring dampness. The second she explored the wing within which her rooms were. On the third, she was warned to stay in as the king was to attend to the wedding’s final arrangements. She was irritated by her exile but not unhappy. It would end soon enough and this would be her castle to reign as she wished.

As you had since you were children, you slept beside her and woke before her. You touched her shoulder and advised her to wake but she stirred only a little. You dressed and left the lanterns unlit as the sun streamed in through the windows. You hid your hair beneath your cap and allowed yourself a moment of vanity as you adjusted your skirts in the mirror.

The best way to rouse the princess was food. You closed the heavy door behind you and greeted the guards who stood in the corridor. Lawrence and Hal were selected by Madeline’s own father and had served her since she was a girl. You knew them well and they were little disturbed by the mousy maid upon her duties.

You carefully counted the corners as you still found the castle unfamiliar and confounding. The day before, you’d become so lost, you had to ask another servant how to find your way back. You loathed a repeat but it was likely as you already felt entirely displaced.

You came upon the lower floors where the kitchens resided. You were confident that your destination was close but found yourself in a hall you’d never been before. A round door was open to the cool morning air and voices mingled with the scent of horses. You cursed under your breath and looked back over your shoulder. You must’ve turned the wrong way at the stairs.

You were kept from righting your course as the voices grew louder and a shadow appeared in the doorway. A lord, vaguely familiar from among those who had accompanied the king, strolled through as he laughed over his shoulder. You skirted against the wall and bowed your head in deference.

You peaked up through your lashes as he was followed by another. You recognised King Steven as he yawned behind his hand.

“You disturbed me so early for--” He complained but paused as his eyes fell upon you. “...nothing.” He finished slowly as he nodded at you.

He carried on as he caught stride with his companion who reprimanded him for his grumbles. They were bawdy and the king took no offence to the remonstrance. You kept your head down until you heard them turn the corner. You wondered little at the reason for the king’s visit to the stables; you only wanted to retreat before the stench lurked in any further.

#Steve Rogers #king!steve #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #medieval au #au #fic #series #dark!fic #dark fic #the handmaiden #mcu #marvel #captain america

1K notes · View notes

awritingtree · 3 years

Note

Could I get a golden trio era ship preferably male. I'm 5"0, a virgo and a ravenclaw. I have shoulder length brown hair and dark brown eyes. I have a slim figure, kind of baby face and lots of freckles. I'm very sarcastic and introverted. I love astronomy and anything to do with the stars, I also love reading (mystery books are my favourites), crystals, astrology, flowers (my favourite flower is a jasmine) and true crime. I'm quite shy when it comes to talking to people at first but I do open up eventually

Crystals and Stars

Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Draco arrives at the Astronomy tower in hope of some peace and quiet. What happens when he finds a familiar face already there?

Words: 967

Warnings: none

A/N: I legit thought of this at 6am in bed when I was half asleep

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Ajdjr you sound so soft and lovely 🥺🥺

I ship you with Draco Malfoy!

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“Oh sorry. I didn’t think anyone was here.” You jumped in your seat in surprise and turned around to look at the entrance.

“No, it’s okay,” you shook you head once you realized who it was, “I was just leaving.”

You marked your page with a pressed jasmine flower, reached down to grab your bag and quickly put everything it in.

“NO!”

You looked at him, taken aback at the volume of his voice. He cleared his throat hoping you wouldn't notice his burning cheeks from a distance, “I mean no. You don't have to.”

You stared at him for a second before facing back towards the telescope, pulling your book back out and placing your bag at the foot of your chair.

“So what are you doing here?” Draco asked dragging a chair to take a seat next to you.

You looked up at him and answered timidly, “Oh um. I like to look at the stars.”

Draco nodded in understanding, “Astronomy has always been your favourite subject.”

You looked at him wide-eyed as Draco quickly turned away from you, looking out into the night sky pretending to be nonchalant and praying to Merlin that you didn’t notice his red cheeks.

“I didn’t think you- I mean anyone noticed.”

Draco smiled to himself; ‘I notice. I notice everything about you,’ he wanted to say.

You turned back to the beautiful velvet black sky. Draco turned his head to gaze at the stellar view in front of him. The moonlight illuminated your face, your blue-and-bronze tie standing out against your brown hair. He watched your eyes twinkle like the stars above with a joyous look. Your lips were upturned slightly, enjoying doing what you loved the most. His eyes trailed from your face to the hands adjusting the telescope as you moved on to another constellation. His eyes fixed on fingers, his hand reaching forward unknowingly to trace the rings on them. You were startled by the unexpected touch. His hands were cold but soft, softer than you imagined they would be.

Realizing what he just done, Draco pulled his hand back to his side and quickly began to apologize, “Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

You smiled at him softly, “It’s fine.”

His attention shifted from your mesmerizing brown eyes back to the rings on your fingers.

“What are they for?”

You gestured to the ring on your right-hand index finger, “This is a moonstone. It helps bring about positive thinking and intuition by soothing stress and instability so the wearer can move towards good fortune and success in their endeavours.”

Draco admired the next crystal you pointed at. The crystal was a beautiful golden hue with flashes of flaming orange and yellow through it.

“This is the citrine crystal. It expels negative emotions like fear and instead boosts warmth, motivation and optimism in your life.”

Draco’s attention moved onto the next crystal on your pinkie finger, “Now this one is a sapphire. It’s said to be the stone of wisdom and royalty. It opens the mind to accepting the beauty existing in its surroundings. Plus, I thought it would be fitting for a Ravenclaw,” you finished with a shrug.

Draco smiled at your enthusiasm, the manner in which you explained and spoke about the crystals making him believe maybe they were more remarkable than he’d previously assumed.

“What about yours?” you asked hesitantly.

You didn’t know how he’d react. You didn't want to believe the rumours about how cruel he could be. But you had witnessed from time to time. Therefore you were shocked at the gentleness he spoke with as he admired the ring, twisting it around on his finger, in pride.

“It’s a family heirloom. It’s passed down generation to generation, father to son, on their admittance into Hogwarts.”

He removed the ring and placed it in your palm. You picked it up carefully, not wanting to damage something of such great importance.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“Thank you,” Draco replied quietly.

You handed the silver snake ring back allowing him to slip it back on. Assuming that was the end of the conversation, you went back to mapping the stars in your notebook and Draco sat silently by your side, subconsciously fidgeting with the ring as he watched you do your work. Awhile later he was bought out of his daydream as you stood up from your chair, sliding your bag onto your shoulder. He didn’t realize when you were done and packed your bag.

“Thank you. For keeping me company,” you said, tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear shyly.

Draco responded with a bashful smile, staying silent in fear of saying the wrong thing. You nodded before turning around and heading towards the stairs that would lead you down from the Astronomy tower. Draco stared after you, willing himself to say something, to not lose the chance he’d so clearly been given.

“Wait!” You stopped, turning around to face him with a confused look.

He looked seraphic, the moonlight illuminating his silhouette from the back made him appear as an angel descending from the heavens above. Draco felt his chest constrict, nerves taking over as he opened his mouth to speak. He closed it, clearing his throat trying to gather courage as you sent him a reassuring smile.

“Would you want to- can we maybe do this again?” he asked, his heart beating fast, thumping loudly in his ears.

Your face lit up as you sent him a bright smile, gripping tightly onto the strap of your bag with sweaty hands, “It would be my pleasure.”

Draco grinned widely, relieved at your acceptance.

“I’ll see you later,” you said, waving at him slightly before rushing down the stairs with a matching wide grin on your face.

Draco sighed as he fell back onto the chair, his eyes closed, a pleased smile on his face. He had come to the tower to look for some peace and quiet, some time away from people. Instead, he found something much better, he found you.

400 followers celebration

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @lenalxvegood @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes @kinkyduuh @ickle-ronniekins @the-mighty-bookworm @chaoticgirl04 @malfoyspogue @dracofeltonmalfoy @dracosmainhoe @tinylumpiaa @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @pandaxnienke @george-fabian-weasley @sarcasticallywitty15

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

47 notes · View notes

littlegrrl7 · 3 years

Photo

The Dragon’s Kitten

Excerpt Chapter 22

Ikemen Sengoku- Masamune/OC, Mitsuhide

Jealousy

Masamune POV

___

I’ve been unsuccessfully looking for Lily for two days, so I’m shocked when I turn the corner into the castle library, and she’s there. Holding a book open and laughing.

With Mitsuhide.

My gut clenches, and I duck back before they see me, watching through a crack in the door. Lily's shoulder is touching his, he points out something in the book, and she sounds it out.

He tells her she’s a good girl in that deep seductive voice of his.

I can feel bile rising in the back of my throat. My fists clench.

She starts sounding out the next line - he corrects her - and she frowns, puzzling over the page.

Is he teaching her to read?

Her hair falls forward, and he pulls it back, running his fingers through her curls.

I want to break his hands, how dare he touch her-

What is this jealousy?

He places his hand on her head, strokes her hair again.

I feel the growl start in my chest. I take a breath, smile, turn into the doorway.

“Mitsuhide,” I nod to him, it’s hard to keep that forced smile; I’m sure it looks more like I’m baring my teeth, “Lily, up to a little studying?”

She looks up. Her eyes light, the smile she gives me wraps me in warmth.

Spirits above, those eyes, I’d sell my soul to see them every morning for the rest of my life.

She’s beautiful in the flickering lantern light of the library. Her hair is fiery, a mass of curls tumbling around her shoulders, her skin looks almost golden. Her kimono gapes slightly, and I can almost see the shadow of freckled cleavage. Unbidden, the image of her coming undone above me runs through my mind, the sheer erotic look of her riding me. The way the light from the garden caressed her breasts. Her hair spilling down her back, her lips open…

Gasping my name…

Mitsuhide looks from me back to her, that damn snake smile curling his lips. He puts an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side.

I see red.

Bastard.

“I offered to teach her how to read,” he smiles, releasing her; I can see him brush the outside of his thigh against hers. Why the hell is he sitting so close to her?

“How kind of you.” I smile again, my clenched jaw ticks.

“She’s such a skilled student,” his fingers lightly brush her arm, she grins at him in adoration. “Such a pleasure to be around.”

I’m almost quivering with rage, is he fucking her? Are they lovers?

I close my eye briefly, mentally shaking off this infatuation. Lily isn’t mine. I’m the last man to even suggest commitment. Why is she even affecting me like this?

I forcibly relax my clenched fists.

“She is delightful. You two look like you are having fun.”

“You could join us.” Her voice is soft, breathy, like she’s inviting me to an afternoon tryst and not a book reading. I’ve enjoyed my fair share of threesomes. My eye darts to Mitsuhide; his expression is cloaked, appraising.

I don’t want to share her.

My brain doesn’t have time to catch up with that thought before words tumble out of my mouth.

“I was about to go riding, and I thought you might like to join me, Lily?” I ignore Mitsuhide, but I can see his thin lips curl into a smirk of amusement.

Is he fucking with me? Damn fox, I can’t tell.

“I would love to go riding with you.” She uncoils herself from the desk cushion and stands, stretching. Her arms raise above her head, back arching, slow, sensual…like she’s putting on a private show just for me. Her breasts strain against the silk of her kimono; nipples peaked against the soft fabric. I want to cup them, run my thumbs over those tight nubs. Hear her pleading cries echo in my ears like they did two nights ago.

“Mitsuhide, is it ok if I cut our lesson a little short today?” Her eyes are on him; her fingertips brush his shoulder.

Why is she touching him?

Citrine eyes flick from Lily to me, still appraising.

Has he already claimed her for himself? Is he deciding if he’s willing to share her? No, Mitsuhide never took partners for more than a night’s pleasure, if he chose to take one at all. In his line of work, it would only put his lover in danger.

His hand ghosts down her thigh, not touching, just a shadow of a caress.

I itch to draw steel.

“It’s fine, little one, take the book with you and make sure you study tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”

The hell he would.

The smile she gives him makes my chest uncomfortably tight.

How many other lovers does she have in Azuchi? She’s attractive, exotic. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Or possessive.

She’s only been in my bed once. Why am I feeling like this?

I hold my hand out to her, giving her my usual rakish smile, “Shall we, lass?”

Lily places her hand in mine. It’s soft, un-calloused. She’s not a maid, and she’s never held a weapon, who is she? What does she do to have a body that well-muscled? Why is she here?

Her hair tumbles around her face, framing it as she steps close to me. I get lost in the paleness of her eyes, the look she gives me is purely sexual.

The same look she gave me when her lips were around my cock.

I swallow hard.

I look over my shoulder as I lead her out to glare at Mitsuhide. Mine.

His shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

Bastard, he has had her.

Read the whole story on A03 The Dragon’s Kitten

#date masamune #ikemen masamune #ikemen sengoku #mitsuhide akechi #a03 fanfic #jealousy #Mitsuhide toying with masamune because why wouldn't he?#masamune pov

28 notes · View notes

synechd0che · 3 years

Text

Tolkien Secret Santa Advent Calendar Day 14: Masquerade

There are Roses That Come Without Seeking (AO3 Link)

@officialtolkiensecretsanta

Pairing: Curufin/Finrod

Rating: E

Word Count: 2700

Summary:

Finrod throws a masquerade ball for Nargothrond’s Midwinter celebration

Note:

Obligate warning since they’re technically half-cousins

Second obligate warning for what I guess one could call identity porn, as they are initially unaware of the identity of the other. One could argue it borders on dub-con, hence the tag "chose not to use warnings" rather than my standard "none apply." It's worth noting that the sex is consensual, though Curufin is surprised to realize his partner is Finrod.

Title from Heart of my Own by Basia Bulat. I think it kind of characterized Curufin and Finrod's complex thoughts about each other.

Curufin slouched idly under a pillar, holding a flute of sparkling wine. From here, though he could see the masked partygoers spinning across the tiled floor, he was presently content to watch the bubbles rise in his glass and let the music wash through him. He was not averse to a good party, and even he would admit that Finrod's Midwinter festivities were second only to those of Tirion in their splendor, but networking in this anonymous throng would be impossible.

Celegorm had slipped away some time ago, ostensibly to avail himself of the trestle tables along the mezzanine, but Curufin could see his grey wolf mask in the crowd, and his hands around the waist of some mouthful of a starling. His son was nowhere to be seen either, though he had spoken that afternoon of meeting some of the other smiths for a foray to the Midwinter night markets in the lower town. Curufin adjusted his own mask, a likeness of a red fox; with no other opportunities for diversion, he supposed he would accept another flute of wine from the next server and dance as he might with the next willing suitor.

As fate would have it, the suitor appeared before the wine. As much as Curufin prided himself on his keen senses, he did not notice the elf behind him until his voice came warm and low in his ear.

"Peace, mellon, I mean you no harm," said the strange nér, holding out a steadying hand. "I wish only to ask you for a dance, if I may."

Curufin gave his suitor an appraising look. His kingfisher mask, beaded in sapphire and crowned with a spray of primary feathers, covered his entire face. Ever crafty, Curufin searched for a marker to identify the stranger, but even his hair was covered, tucked under the hood of his cloak, richly embroidered with the suggestion of speckled wings. Curufin could see only the sparkle of his eyes, perhaps the suggestion of a smile through the parted beak of his mask.

The suitor held out his hand expectantly. Curufin, deciding that a quick turn across the floor was preferable to an evening spent sulking, swallowed his thimbleful of wine, palmed his glass off on the nearest server, and accepted. His partner was perhaps a hair taller, his bearing dignified, and Curufin consented to let him lead and to be swept forward in the crush of dancers.

The song the musicians were playing was fast-footed and breathless. The dulcimers threw sound up into the vaulted ceilings, whose milky glass tiling passed the music about playfully before releasing it as a canorous drone that Curufin felt in his breastbone. The style required each dancer be passed among strangers before returning to their partner, which precluded any length of conversation. It did offer Curufin, from his vantage point in the arms of a tall nís costumed as a boreal lion, an excellent view of the stranger's lean legs.

The music shifted to a slower courting tune, a season staple from Tirion. On cue, the stranger pulled Curufin into the cage of his arms. Someone had produced an ocarina, whose tune hung and wove through the air.

After some time, the nér asked "Tell me, why is someone who dances with such grace relegated to a post under an archway?"

Curufin laughed at that, showing a bit of canine. "As useful as state functions are, I tire easily of mindless babble."

"I do hope you aren't bored by a fête of my own design," his partner said with mock recrimination.

"You are a lord on the planning committee?" Curufin said, trying to place him by voice among the number of nobles he had worked with in the weeks prior. "I cannot say I recognize you, and you do not have the hands of a craftsman."

"One could say I was party to the proceedings," he replied. "But here's what I really would like to know: In your estimation of me, what sort of hands do I have?" His partner asked, beak close to his ear. He smelled of something dark, and citrusy.

Curufin flushed slightly – perhaps from the wine, from the proximity of his partner, or from his subtle insinuations. He looked down to their hands interlaced. "I suppose you have the hands of someone who has held a sword - though not recently - and you have the calluses of one who writes frequently and at length, so I conclude you are more competent than some of the nuisances and fops I deal with."

"Spoken like a true smith," laughed the nér. "What hand have you played in the Midwinter planning?"

Curufin felt a stirring of pride. "The instrument strings I made on commission for the musicians' guild. My team was one of three overseeing the new crystal tableware. My mask is stitched with carnelian and vermillion glass beads that I hand-drew." He paused contemplatively, adding "And I took more requests than I can count for petty baubles and costume trinkets for the rich and distinguished." Curufin's eyes idled in their arc across his partner's body upon the rings on his fingers.

"I suppose I am not the only one with competent hands tonight," murmured his partner. "My compliments, for you must truly possess a rare – skillset." Curufin was suddenly glad for his mask, and for his dark skin.

The crowd was beginning to settle down; the old guard drifted away, though the dancing would continue until the wee hours of the morning as the servers were replaced and given leave to partake in the festivities. Curufin decided to test the waters. "I can already see parties splintering away toward the refreshment tables and a chance to rest their dancing slippers – or toward the quiet of the labyrinthine corridors of the keep, and indulgences of another sort."

"As captivating as this conversation is," the other nér said, "can I interest you in continuing it somewhere more private?" His eyes glinted behind his mask, intent obvious and just shy of predation.

Curufin took a breath. "I would not be averse to – a moment of indulgence." He could have sworn the beak of his partner's mask snapped shut in quiet satisfaction.

It was all they could do to exit the hall with a graceful demeanor and not that of hot-blooded youths just past their majority. That evaporated as soon as they were far enough down the main corridor to be out of eyeshot, and Curufin yanked the nér down a side hallway and into a shallow alcove.

Curufin went straight for his throat, pressing kisses to the soft crease between neck and jaw. His hands fumbled at the fastenings of his shirt, sliding on the rich brocade. In return, a hand cupped him between his legs, and another covered his mouth to silence his moan. "I don't think I need to remind you," said the other nér, "that even down this hall, hidden as we are, they can still hear you if you cry out."

It was true – Curufin could dimly hear the strains of music that floated out of the ballroom, the chatter of late-comers and the click of boots down the main corridor. He was aware that at any moment, they could be discovered. He was also aware of the aching hardness in his breeches. "Undress me," he commanded.

His partner was happy to oblige, boxing him up against the corridor wall, running his hands appreciatively down Curufin's body. As he cast aside his outer shirt, he paused briefly to thumb aside the open neckline of his underclothes. "Now that's an interesting tattoo," he remarked, "In a style I've seen but rarely. It reminds me of the work of the Laiquendi... The only other I know who adopted that style is my kinsman, third-born of Fëanor. Though, you are not he, with your dark hair - though you share the same haughty bearing."

Curufin tensed slightly. "Will that be a problem?" He asked. Even now, there were some who were averse to the presence of kinslayers in Nargothrond.

"No," the other nér responded, straightening the neckline of Curufin's smallclothes. His exploration drifted south, and Curufin gasped when his clever fingers slipped inside his breeches to twist at his cock. "And truthfully, I am eager to see to what use we can put that proud mouth of yours."

Itching to plunder that sweet-talking mouth, Curufin reached to untie his partner's mask. "Kiss me and find out," he began to say, but in a dizzying rush found his face pressed against the mosaic tiling of the wall. One hand trapped was trapped by the other nér, and with the other he braced himself against collapse. The length of the nér's body was taut against his back; even fully dressed, Curufin could feel the strength in his core, in the arms that held him captive.

"Isn't anonymity the point of the festival?" Quipped his partner, rutting against him. Curufin let his breathing settle, contemplating the mosaic pattern of the wall, sea greens and blues mimicking waves on the ocean. In the shuffle, the other nér’s hair had slipped from inside his hood. It lay over Curufin’s shoulder. Golden.

“When you said you were party to the planning-“ began Curufin, before that clever hand found its way back in his breeches, thumbing across his foreskin. His desire was undeniable now, almost painful. He gasped again when the other nér struck up a measured rhythm.

Curufin’s eyes drift to the hand that held him against the wall. Now at eye level, he could see the pair of rings on the index finger. Citrine and gold, unmistakable craftsmanship. He remembered those twin rings, and for whom he had made them.

He spoke again, voice hoarse but strong. "I fashioned a number of Midwinter pieces, including ones for the King. Tell me, from which smith did you procure them?"

Even though Finrod had mandated that guests come in disguise, the King himself had been easy to identify during the ball by the sparkle of the Nauglamír around his neck. Even his costume had been ostentatious, a full mask in the moon-faced likeness of a barn owl, a train of snow-white feathers to match. Curufin had seen him, during the ball, he had seen – a nér in a full mask, identified implicitly by a bit of jewelry. Yet now...

"Will that be a problem?" Finrod mimicked sardonically. He gave another cruel tug to Curufin's cock, light enough to grant small relief, hard enough to leave him wanting.

"No, I don't suppose there will be," Curufin replied.

"Good... good," Finrod said. He forced Curufin to his knees. The flagstones were cold beneath him. He made to touch himself, but Finrod knocked his hand away with a slippered foot. "Not yet; I think you can wait a bit longer."

Finrod kept one hand tangled in his braids, and used the other to undo his lacings. Curufin moved to tilt his mask up, but Finrod pushed it back down over his eyes. "Better leave that on, hmm?" He mused, freeing his length from his trousers. "I think we're reasonably alone here, but if you wish to chance the whole of Nargothrond knowing how eager you are to fall to your knees, that's your choice."

"The real question is," Curufin ground out from his position between Finrod's knees, "If you're here getting your cock sucked, who's running the kingdom?"

Finrod waved his free hand carelessly. "My man-at-arms, Edrahil. I begged a few hours of freedom by swapping disguises. He's a good sort, makes a decent False King, though I feel bad for leaving him covered in more suitors than the poor fellow know what to do with."

Curufin rolled his eyes. "What a task that must be, entertaining an entourage of willing morsels; I can see why you were desperate to escape."

"Let it never be said," laughed Finrod, "that I scorn bedding those of abrasive character in favor of those tame confections seeking to curry favor with a king."

Curufin responded by taking Finrod to the root and hollowing his cheeks. The surge of sensation forced Finrod's head back against the wall. With the chill of the tile seeping into his skull, he mused "Only you could suck a cock like you were delivering a divine punishment."

"If you come on my mask, I will bite your manhood clean off."

"Peace; Eru, you're precious. Someday I think we should replace that stick up your ass with something else, hmm? Pity I don't have any oil."

Nose pressed against golden curls, Curufin snorted. He swallowed once, deliberately, knowing before it happened how Finrod's eyes would fall shut, how his the muscles of his thighs would tense, how he would reflexively force Curufin further down his length.

Finrod worked his hands deeper into Curufin's braids, thoroughly undoing hours of Celebrimor's careful work. He thrust once, experimentally, into the wet heat of Curufin's mouth, and looked down as if to ask for permission. Curufin gave his assent by way of grabbing him about the hips and pulling him forward into another stuttering thrust. He seemed to get the cue then, manhandling Curufin a little as he pushed him back down onto his cock.

Curufin had little control over these proceedings, and certainly in other circumstances Finrod would have been a more accommodating bedfellow, but as it happened he simply braced his right arm against the wall and his left upon Curufin's shoulder, and drove himself into the waiting warmth like a man seeking shelter from a storm.

The music still filtered into the corridor, mixing with the soft sounds Finrod made and couldn't contain as he rose toward his peak. Finrod hadn't undressed - just let himself out of his laces - but Curufin was aware of his own disheveled state, cock hanging out the front of his trousers, shamefully hard, dripping for anyone to see. The scene was mostly obscured by Finrod's cloak, but beyond the orange silk lining Curufin could the flicker of shadows arching down the corridor from the ignorant passersby in the main hall. At that moment, he couldn't even bring himself to care.

The only warning Finrod gave was the tighting of his grip and the way his breath halted as he doubled over. He thrust once more, nearly choking Curufin, who swallowed around his girth, and stilled. Finrod sighed, pulling free.

"Touch yourself," he commanded as he tucked himself back into his laces. "No, on your knees," he amended as Curufin made to rise, "I want to see you at your king's feet."

Any other day, Curufin would have had something cutting to say, but he wanted so desperately to come that he held his tongue - for possibly the first and last time of his life - and fisted his neglected cock in his hand. "I won't last much longer," he murmured.

Finrod said nothing, just ran his fingers through the braids that were unspooling themselves down Curufin's back. Curufin turned his face into the crease of Finrod's hip as he came, muffling the hoarse cry he couldn't bite back. His seed spattered onto the flagstones, and the blue silk of Finrod's dancing slippers.

He was allowed a moment's rest before Finrod drew him back to his feet, helped him lace his clothes, corrected the angle of his mask.

"What about your slippers?" Curufin asked in a moment of contrition.

"I am the King," Finrod said. "I will simply walk back to my chambers. And the people will simply ignore my slippers." He paused for a moment, and then unhooked his cloak from about his shoulders. Throwing it over Curufin, he said "You, on the other hand, might benefit from discretion."

"This doesn't even match," protested Curufin, "And – and people will know I got it from you."

Finrod removed his mask, pressing the only kiss of the evening to Curufin's lips before swiftly replacing it. "No," he corrected, "if anything, they'll think you got it from Edrahil." He disappeared down the corridor and into the faint music.

Note:

I signed up for the masquerade prompt with one pairing in mind and one pairing only. I think Curufin and Finrod are the rare-pair of people fascinated by unhealthy relationships and games of cat and mouse. Based on my reading and interpretation of the Silmarillion, I always kind of thought of the relationship between Finrod and Curufin and Celegorm as a game of wits, with grudging respect paid while trying to pull the rug out from underneath the other party. Of course, this is a game that Finrod eventually loses.

A note to characterization: Finrod may seem overly dominant here, and while I think he generally has a sunny disposition, he has a strong spine and won't pass up a chance to knock his cousin down a peg or two. I hope it was obvious that Finrod seems to catch onto Curufin's identity even before they leave the ballroom.

I chose the kingfisher as Finrod's disguise for a number of reasons. It's glamorous plumage disguise its prowess as a hunter, as it is capable of diving into the water without casting a ripple. However, most die young from starvation and cold winters, so one wouldn't say they were an apex predator by any means. I was fascinated by the idea of Finrod, always beautiful, sometimes deadly, choosing something like the Kingfisher, perhaps as a morbid sort of joke with regards to his foresight of his own death. I suppose their greatest dissimilarity in character is that the kingfisher has a rather ordinary song.

The reasoning behind Curufin and his fox mask, I assume, is self-evident.

The bit about the music in the ballroom is as accurate a description as I can give as a musician. Glass does in fact distort sound as it reflects it. There are two non-music halls one can play in (in my experience): ones that consume your sound and make for a surreally lonesome viewing and playing experience, and ones that bounce too much sound back like a series of echoes. Personally, the latter was the vibe I was going for in this fic, the creation of a droning tone without a droning instrument. Not an important detail but I'm a nerd.

Also I think Curufin absolutely knows how to make instrument strings, he probably does it on principle for Maglor. Personally, he's not that interested in music, but he absolutely is petty enough to learn a skill simply to do it better than the rest of Tirion.

#tss2020advent14 #curufin #finrod #curufin/finrod #silmarillion #long post #this is longer than I treat I think

31 notes · View notes

mamabearcatfanfics · 4 years

Text

More Than Words - One

“Please, please, please, please, please Kagome!”

She looked up from her laptop to roll her eyes at the dark haired man leaning over her desk, his violet eyes beseeching, hands together as if in prayer.

“You would think by now Miroku, that you of all people would know that when a lady says no, she means no”, she said dryly, dropping her attention back to the computer screen in front of her. It was boring work, but if everything wasn’t just so, the tender documents could be rejected, and she really didn’t want to open that can of worms with her project manager.

“But Kagome”, he continued pleading. “She’s amazing, gorgeous, an angel!” His eyes misted over as he gazed off into the middle distance. “I think it’s her. I think I’ve finally found the love of my life.” Kagome snorted, and his eyes flicked back to hers. “You don’t believe me?” he said with a wounded expression.

“Miroku”, Kagome sighed, “you probably spoke to her for a maximum of what, two minutes, tops? And that was to order coffee. How is this girl any different from the temp secretary you took out on a date after the office Christmas party three weeks ago? Or that girl you abandoned me for last Friday night when we went out to karaoke? I’m not going to hound some poor woman minding her own business into giving you her number just because you have the unfortunate habit of falling for every pretty face you see!”

Miroku shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. This was different. When my fingers touched hers, it was, like, I don’t know, a spiritual connection.” He sighed, leaning against Kagome’s desk, his hand over his heart. “She owns me, body and soul.”

“Oh my god Miroku,” Kagome chortled, pushing his hip off her desk. “If you were any cheesier I’d need to run out and buy wine and crackers! You do realise that you sound like someone out of one of those trashy romance movies on daytime TV? Next you’ll be writing sonnets and saying you were struck by Cupid’s arrow.” She got up from her desk to move over to the filing cabinet, rifling through the files. “I still don’t see why I need to be involved anyway - just ask her for her number herself if you’re so desperate!”

Miroku sighed, hanging his head despondently. “I’ve been banned. By her guard dog.” Kagome looked at him questioningly. “The barista.”

“You got banned from a café by the barista? What on earth did you do!?” She held up her hands, the file in them covering her view of Miroku as he opened his mouth to explain. “No, don’t tell me, on second thoughts, I don’t want to know!”

“Kagome, I’m begging you! Just talk to her. If she doesn’t want to give her number to me, I’ll admit defeat. I just need to know! What if I did all your filing for the next week?”

Kagome shook her head. “No way! I’ve only just got all my files back in order from when you meddled with my stuff when I was on leave.”

“I’ll walk your dog.”

“I have a cat.”

“I’ll do your tax return for you.”

“I’d like to stay out of prison, thanks very much.”

“I’ll, I’ll… “ Miroku looked around the office, as if searching for inspiration, his eyes alighting on Kagome’s much loved pink coffee cup, sitting empty and forlorn on her desk. “I’ll buy you coffee for the next month!”

Kagome stared him. “You’re offering to buy me coffee for a whole month?” He nodded. “And this is whether she gives me her number or not?” Miroku nodded again. Kagome bumped the filing cabinet drawer shut with her hip, then placed the folders on her desk, turning back to him with a gleeful expression on her face.

Miroku’s face fell when he realised exactly how much that this might cost him in monetary terms. Kagome loved her coffee; she was rarely seen without her favourite coffee mug in her hand. And she did a lot of overtime, often working back late at the office, weekends too when a tender was due.

Kagome grinned even wider and slapped him on the shoulder. “Miroku, my lovestruck friend, you’ve got yourself a deal!”

☕💘☕

Kagome walked towards the tiny hole in the wall coffee shop a few blocks away from the office. It was literally only a door and a window wide, the exterior painted in matte black, with a white awning shading the customers waiting outside in the hot Australian summer sun. The business name adorned the glass window, a simple red circle with black text in a strong block font - Black Dog Coffee.

There was a line of people heading out the door waiting patiently, some chatting quietly, but most looking down at their phones. As she got further forward in the line, she was amused to notice that everyone followed the same pattern – a step towards the woman taking orders, stating their name and order and paying, then two steps to the left while they waited for their coffee. The woman at the cash register didn’t take another order until the first one had been filled, yet no one complained. That was kind of odd, but the line was moving fairly swiftly, so she guessed it worked, even though it wasn’t how cafés usually took their coffee orders. It was hard to see what was going on from her position in the line, stuck behind a tall guy in a business suit. She decided to look up reviews for the coffee shop online while she was waiting.

‘This coffee is the absolute bomb, but don’t piss off the barista!’

‘Was recommended to me by a friend. Coffee is amazing.’

‘Kinda weird. They only sell coffee, roast their own beans I think. The barista is something else!’

‘Would wait in line all day for this coffee!!’

‘Worst experience ever. Got BANNED because I tried to order more than five things. And they have no food, just coffee. WTF! Pretty sure the barista was in the yakuza – that guy has tatts for days! 0/10 would recommend.’

‘Follow the ordering protocol and you’ll be sweet – best coffee in the downtown financial district.’

‘OMG – best coffee EVER! I’m now a daily customer.’

Hmmm. She tried to peer around the tall guy in front of her, but she couldn’t see anything; the afternoon sun was reflecting off the glass covered office building nearby, getting in her eyes and making her squint. She fanned her face with her hand. Man it was hot. You could fry an egg out here on the cement. She hoped the coffee was worth the freckles she was probably getting on her nose right now. The tall guy stepped forward to make his order, and she caught a glimpse of the woman behind the cash register.

Long glossy brown hair with thick bangs, and a bright smile. Her brown eyes, highlighted by bright pink eyeshadow, sparkled with warmth; she was giving her total attention to the current person she was engaging with. She wasn’t much taller than Kagome herself and the tight black t-shirt she was wearing with the name Sango embroidered on the pocket accentuated her generous curves.

Kagome sighed. Miroku was nothing if not predictable – he loved curvy ladies. But how was she going to ask for this woman’s number without causing a disruption – everyone seemed to be on board with the ordering system, and if the coffee was as good as the reviews promised there was no way she was going to get herself banned from coming back.

She glanced down to the time on her phone, and then to the opening hours printed on the tiny shop window. It was almost closing time. Maybe if she hung back for a little while and caught the woman after they’d shut up shop? She groaned internally, trying not to think of the work still waiting for her on her desk. She should have held out for two months of coffee.

The tall man stepped to the side. Crap, she needed to order.

“Good afternoon ma’am. What would you like?” The woman’s smile was wide and welcoming.

“Uh, a large latte please, no sugar”, Kagome said, holding up her credit card ready to tap payment.

“Name please?”

“Kagome. That’s K – A…”

“That’s okay, I know how to spell it.” Kagome watched with interest as the woman wrote her name on the coffee lid in curving characters. Was that hirigana? She vaguely recognised it was her name being written from the two terms of Japanese she did in high school. A grunt came from her left, and she realised with a little start that she was meant to move to one side.

She stood in front of the gleaming commercial espresso machine, eyes closing as she savoured the rich coffee aroma. It smelt amazing, rich and full. Not burnt. It was a little hard to see the barista; her view was blocked by towers of takeaway coffee cups in various sizes. But those reviews that mentioned him had made her curious now. She stepped to the side a little more. Ah, there he was.

He was taller than her - she guessed she’d come up to just above his shoulder, but then she wasn’t exactly tall herself at 5’2”. He had long dark hair, looped back in a low ponytail, with a choppy fringe and slightly longer forelocks on either side of his face, tanned skin that was complemented by the white collarless t-shirt he wore under a denim apron. His expression as he looked downward to make the coffee was stern, but she didn’t see what he had to be so grumpy about. Maybe he was just hot? Maybe he just took his job very seriously? He moved out from behind the coffee machine and her eyes widened at the sight of his forearms, revealed by the shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. They were covered in tattoos from the wrist; dark sleeves of swirling black water flowing up his arms, broken only by pink and red cherry blossoms, with a hint of green and yellow. Then he looked up.

His eyes. They were hazel, for want of a better description, but such a light hazel that they almost looked golden. With the late afternoon sun behind her, lighting his face, they almost sparkled like citrine quartz. He placed the lid on her coffee, then set it down in front of her.

“Kagome.”

He’d pronounced her name right. Ka-goh-meh. She was so used to the way most Australians butchered her Japanese name, a way for her parents to honour her Japanese grandfather, that she was immune to its mispronunciation, but he’d said it just right. Just. Right. His voice was deep and a little husky. He made that small grunting noise in the back of his throat again, his strong dark brows lowering a little, and she realised in embarrassment that she was staring at him.

“Uh, yes, I’m sorry, yeah that’s me! I’m Kagome.” Idiot. Of course he knew that, it’s not like there was anyone else standing right in front of him waiting! She reached out for her coffee where he’d placed it on the edge of the counter, and then backed away, pink cheeked, as another person stepped to the side to wait for their coffee.

She moved to stand in front of the shop next door, taking out her phone for something to do while she waited for closing time, slowly sipping her coffee, which was glorious by the way. But she couldn’t give herself over fully to her enjoyment of the taste, unable to control her wandering eyes.

‘Oh my god, he’s gorgeous! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that colour before. And that’s so much ink on his arms - that must have hurt like a bitch! I never would have picked that a guy would get cherry blossom sleeves, but they don’t look girly on him at all - the exact opposite really. I wonder if they go all the way up his arms? God, now I’m imagining him with his shirt off - bad girl, Kagome! Maybe the cherry blossoms are a cultural thing? I think he’s Japanese, and I’m pretty sure that’s my name in hirigana on the coffee lid, but I don’t want to make an assumption just based on that and his looks. I wonder what he’s thinking about? He doesn’t look unhappy or angry exactly, just… determined? Maybe he just has resting bitch face.’ She snorted a little at that thought, then sighed. ‘His movements are so graceful and fluid, it’s like watching someone do tai chi or something. Oh, he has such nice hands - strong fingers. I could watch him make coffee aaaaall day.’

She gazed dreamily, sipping at her coffee slowly, the phone in her hand forgotten. Golden eyes suddenly met hers, one eyebrow raised in a puzzled expression. ‘Oh shit, he’s looking this way. He’s noticed that I’m looking at him. Abort! Abort! Oh fuck… This is all your fault Miroku!’

She turned tail and fled, almost running back to the office. The reviews had been right. The hot coffee was amazing, but the hot barista? Yeah, he was definitely something else. She knew she would be back first thing in the morning to get another coffee. And it wasn’t just because the coffee was amazing and that he was beautiful to look at. There was something about him. She wanted to get to know him better.

Miroku was waiting for her out the front of their office building. “So, did you get it?” he asked eagerly.

“What?”

“Did you get her number. Sango’s number?”

“Uh…” Shit. She’d been so flustered when he had suddenly looked up and met her gaze that she’d turned tail and fled without remembering why she was waiting there in the first place. Damn. Heat washed across her cheeks, and she flicked her gaze away from Miroku’s.

“Our calm and collected Kagome blushing? Oh, there must be a good story behind this – do tell!”

“No story. You’ve ordered coffee from there before – I didn’t want to do anything to upset the system and get banned like you did! There just wasn’t an opportunity today – I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Miroku poked her in the ribs. “But surely that wouldn’t make you blush Kags! C’mon, spill.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” she spluttered.

Suddenly Miroku burst out laughing. “Oh ho ho, I get it. You were so busy perving at the guard dog making the coffee that you forgot what you were there for.”

“Shut. Up.”

Miroku grinned at her. “Aw, little Kagome finally got a crush on someone. Were you struck by Cupid’s arrow?” he teased, throwing the phrase she’d used before back at her with a note of triumph in his voice. Kagome squirmed under his knowing gaze, and he chuckled. “Looks like Cupid’s been pretty busy with his arrows around that coffee shop, huh?”

Kagome made a growling noise in the back of her throat, then the corners of her lips curled up in a knowing smile. She blinked at him innocently, raising her takeaway cup.

“You may be right Miroku. You may be right. And I’m thinking the best way to get to know him will be to buy coffee. Lots of coffee. I hope you’re ready to pay up, buddy!” She sipped her coffee and patted him on his suddenly slumping shoulders as she walked past him into the foyer of the building and back to her desk full of filing, savouring every last drop.

☕💘☕

Inuyasha pondered as he polished the already gleaming coffee maker. Sango had just left for the day, after balancing the till, and he was doing a final clean up, ensuring everything would be ready for 7am opening.

That girl. Kagome. She’d been staring at him. Usually that made him feel intensely uncomfortable. Growing up in an orphanage had internalised that being stared at was a bad thing, because pain caused by kids much larger and stronger than him usually followed close behind. That was until he’d been there so long that he was the large and strong one, handing out punches to anyone picking on the tiny ones. But he hadn’t got that uncomfortable feeling from her when she’d stared.

He knew he was considered attractive by some people. But her looking at him hadn’t given him that slimy creepy feeling that being ogled purely for looks gave him either. She had looked at him like he was a puzzle she wanted to work out.

He tried to picture her in his mind’s eye, but all he really remembered was dark shining hair like a corvid’s wing, and very blue eyes. She’d been small too, very petite. He rolled her name around in his head, as it tugged on a memory, and he suddenly thought of the rhyming game from his childhood about a bird caught in a cage. It was fitting – her mannerisms reminded him of a little bird - a wren, with bright inquisitive eyes. And when he’d looked up at her and caught her staring, she’d flapped her wings in fright and flown away. He chuckled. He hoped she wasn’t caught in a cage of some sort. No one deserved that.

He shut off the lights to the tiny shop, and walked into the studio behind it, flopping down on his bed with his laptop, ready to spend another evening struggling through his online English class. A little orange fluffball of a kitten jumped on to his lap, trying to sit on the keys, and he pushed it off.

“Shippou! Dame!”

The kitten settled down next to his thigh, snuggling against him and purring, and he turned his attention back to the screen. It was hard, learning a language this way, but he was determined. He had escaped his own cage, and he was never going back.

☕💘☕

PART TWO

#Bearpluscat fanfics #inukag fanfic #inukag modern au #inukag coffee shop au #I'll be posting every couple of days in the lead up to White Day!

128 notes · View notes

jtownraindancer · 4 years

Text

Gabriel x Reader: Eyes

You weren't entirely sure when you first gained your celestial stalker.

The clues were scattered inconsistently throughout the city, with golden feathers appearing outside your front door, a brush of warmth in the otherwise chilly mornings, the unanticipated pause before sending an email that could have gotten you fired.

At first, you had assumed it was just a series of coincidences or some random streak of good luck.

But then the people around you also started to show signs of playing a bigger role in your life than normal.

There was the lady in the supermarket who had the last box of your favourite brand of cookies, only for her to notice your crestfallen expression and offer them to you instead.

There was the teenager who ordered the wrong drink at Dunkin, offering it to you "instead of it going to waste."

Yet again, coincidentally, your exact taste.

There were many others along the way: the man who covered your meter before you had the chance to even look for coins, the girl who bought you water at the laundromat, the mysterious stranger who had ordered and paid for your Lyft that night that you went a little too hard at the bar.

This good luck just kept appearing out of nowhere, and as yet another miraculous happenstance played out that eased the daily stress from your life, your eyes meeting those of your would-be saviour, it finally struck you just why you couldn't pin it to coincidence.

Every single act of kindness had had the same golden eyes behind it.

It was impossible to address this fact when standing in the bathroom of a Walmart, especially when the conclusion could only be indicative of your final steps to insanity.

You accepted the coupon with as much grace as you could muster, this time being sure to focus on their reaction as you offered your gratitude.

It was a flicker, just enough, of light, of mirth, of relief.

Whoever they were, you had no doubt in your mind that your good fortune had completely been delivered by their hands.

You berated yourself during the entire shopping trip however, certain you had to be insane.

Shapeshifting was impossible; magic wasn't real. That shade of brown eyes must be way more common than you originally thought.

That was clearly the only logical explanation: there was a small squadron of people out there with eyes the colour of honey, of sunshine through whiskey, of freshly grown barley-

Yes.

There was simply a coalition of kind people out there, and they all coincidentally happened to be reaching out to you, and they all just so happened to have the same colour eyes.

Standing at your trunk with your recently purchased toilet paper and ice melt however, you knew better.

The single golden feather laying perfectly prim on your license plate knew better.

The lingering warmth from the store knew better.

You had somehow gained a guardian angel, and you had no idea how to repay them.

Fortunately, your chance arrived sooner than anticipated, announcing itself as a knock on your door on an early Tuesday morning.

It had been months since that encounter in Walmart, and you had all but forgotten the exact shade of the golden eyes that still sometimes haunted your dreams.

But all those memories were rapidly summoned to the forefront of your thoughts upon seeing those sunlit irises beaming at you from behind a FedEx uniform.

"Morning!"

He was middle-aged today, hair on the shaggier side, somewhere between brown and gold and almost on the cusp of red, the slightest hints of stubble framing one of the brightest smiles you had ever seen.

"H- Hi." You stumbled on your greeting, brain still trying to boot up from the wake-up call, words banging together in your skull as you tried to formulate some sort of semblance of decorum. "Can I help you?"

He asked your name, pulling a box from his bag with a slightly apologetic tone. "We were understaffed for a while there. You were supposed to get this a while ago."

The return address was to a website you swore to never visit again, after they had told you that the order you placed was delivered and signed for, but never in your name.

You had assumed it lost to the Void, and yet here-

You glanced back up to the figure holding out the signature pad, not quite able to read the emotion currently in his eyes.

"Thank you..." You took a glimpse down at the nametag, mentally sighing in relief seeing that he was actually wearing one. "...Gabe."

Perhaps the intimate vulnerability to your tone gave away your awareness, or was simply freaking out a perfectly sane stranger. You dared to hope the former as a small twitch of his lips hinted at a smile.

"No need to thank me. I'm just the Messenger."

You finally had your answers, and it hit you with vivid flashbacks to articles written by dedicated spiritualists, by the stringently religious.

Gabe.

The Messenger.

Golden feathers and a smile that felt like it could summon life even in the aridest of deserts.

You were dealing with a friggin' Archangel.

He seemed oblivious to your gasp, seemingly distracted by his pad and scanning the code on your package.

You were filled with questions, with disbelief, humility.

How he had come to be protecting you-

"Regardless. You're still the one who got it here. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

This.

Everything.

Luminescent citrine flickered upwards and met your gaze, stopping your heart for a moment. There was a sincerity there, a vulnerability that you were in awe of.

"Anytime."

The words were on the tip of your tongue, the questions you were so desperate to have answered, the final clarification you needed to be absolutely sure you weren't simply going insane.

The sound of your phone distracted you for a moment, attention diverted to check your screen and frown at the robocall.

By the time you looked back up, he was gone.

All that remained was a single flaxen feather tumbling softly to the floor, drifting lazily on the remnants of a warm breeze.

You couldn't help but smile.

212 notes · View notes

utanoprinces · 4 years

Text

Dragon Route: Natsuki

After a long stretch of months in the creative pit, I have been very busy on my selfship blog but otherwise quietly sticking to work I have emerged with one of the first of my written commissions! Commissioned by the very kind and longsuffering @eldritchdoctor, who waited far too many months for it to be completed, the first of the Starish routes is here to be read at your leisure. This one, like Reiji’s, will not be in narration-player format like the others but is instead a very long one-shot. I hope you enjoy!

Tale of: the Merchant and Citrine Dragon

The first time you met him, you thought it’d be the last night you’d walk the earth. To this day, you wonder if—had you not crossed paths with him—it would have been. Your cart had broken down in the middle of the mountain crossing, right on the curve overlooking a valley. Normally, that would spell doom, as the kingdom at large is well aware that the area is rife with the Fae and all their mischief, tricks, and traps laid to ensnare unlucky or unsuspecting mortals. It’s said that even straying a meter from the man-made path is enough to get yourself caught up in a wild goose chase after false lanterns or end up some unknown creature’s meal, so when you’d nervously sat down on the grassy hill beside your broken cart in despair only to minutes-later be met with a sudden, gentle voice, you had immediately assumed it was the end.

“Cute, little human~!” The voice called. “Did your wheel box fall apart?”

Wheel box? You thought to yourself very absently, unable to think much else with a chill running down your spine. Realizing he meant the cart, you looked up—and froze in place.

He was tall, so tall. Broad-shouldered, but with a softness about his entire demeanor that nearly made you forget the danger you were in, and clad in a long, smooth coat that graduated from rich yellows to soft browns. Farther up, you were briefly entranced by the green of his eyes, like grass in sunlight, framed by a pair of filigree spectacles and wavy, beige-gold hair that twisted in so many shiny, pleasant ways that you were nearly bowled over by the very unprecedented desire to dig your hands into it and run your fingers through to the ends.

However, the most arresting part of the open, inviting face gazing down at you was not any of the features you’d normally consider yourself familiar with. Instead of his pale skin, his gentle smile, or those eyes that threatened to capture you once more, it was the twisting, bronze horns curling across his forehead that most caught your eye.

He tilted his head, face shifting into a concerned expression with wide, owlish eyes.

“Hm? Can you not hear me…?” He kneeled before you to reach your eye level, still smiling far wider than was appropriate. He waved his hands in front of your face—his fingertips had claws!—and hummed. “Are you all right, human~?”

“What are you?” You blurted. His face broadened in surprise before he smiled once more.

“A friend. Here to help you.” He turned his attention away from you and tapped his face, standing straight as he approached your fallen cart with an appraising eye. Your attention zoned in on the golden tail behind him, crested with feathers near where it disappeared into his coat and at the end, where it splayed into beautiful long plumes that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. You quietly decided that—whatever he was—he was certainly the most stunning creature you'd ever seen.

It went on like that, with the strange being waving his hand in a seemingly random pattern and somehow pulling your cart together again. When he finished reassembling it, he returned to you and helped you up by gripping the back of your clothes as if you were a kitten and settled you on your feet.

“Are you traveling alone?” He asked. “That seems so lonely!”

“I don’t exactly have a choice,” you replied carefully. “I have to make a living somehow.” He hummed in awe, face turning once more to that innocent, wide-eyed expression. You almost wondered if he was teasing you, but he just seemed so… guileless. It was hard to gauge, so you kept your guard up, even as his tail swayed with interest.

“What is it you do exactly? I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to many humans! Syo always tries to drag me away when I see any.”

You frowned. ‘Syo’? You shook your head and walked down to your cart, carefully brushing over the joints and straps and making sure nothing had fallen out when it broke down. You took up the straps again. “I’m a merchant. Traveling, usually but… I’ve heard of some opportunities near the capital that seem profitable.”

“P… profitable?” The being squinted, as if testing the word in his mouth. You stared at him.

“Do you… know what commerce is, er…?”

He brightened. “Natsuki!” His face fell again. “...and no… but I’m very curious to learn.” Somehow… something about the way he seemed so knowledgeable and yet so childish at once… it struck you. You couldn’t help breathing a small huff of amusement as you straightened the straps over your shoulders and took a step.

“You’re right, Natsuki. The journey has been pretty lonely, so far.”

He easily caught up and fell into step beside you, politely and thoughtfully folding his hands in front of him. “I can keep you company! I’m so curious about humans, you know!” You smiled awkwardly at him.

“As long as you don’t try to snare me or take my name or anything…”

“Take your name?” He blinked. “Is that something humans do?” He gasped. “Is that what bandits do? Now I know why I always see people running from them!” This guy… was he really Fae? That was what you had thought until his eyes had lit up with understanding… moments before he seemed to shrink in on himself. “A-ah… I see. You’re… afraid.” You flinched. He sounded so, so terribly sad. You weren’t expecting a being like him to care what a human thought… or maybe you’d even thought he might show his true colors if you were blunt with him. However, to your surprise, he genuinely seemed concerned. He lowered his eyes, looking out over the swathes of forest that stretched away down the side of the path as you both trudged forward. “I… understand. Tokiya says humans avoid the valley because they are afraid of the Court, but… please believe me when I say that dragons and the Court are not entirely alike. We don’t wish to hurt humans.” He paused and frowned. “Well… most of us.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond. Court? Dragons? He was a dragon? But dragons hadn’t been heard of in over fifty years! Still, his tail, his horns, the casual way he’d used magic… it matched the legends you’d heard. What in the world were you meant to do with such information, though?

“I’m not afraid,” you blurted, and immediately snapped your mouth shut, feeling your face heat up. Okay, maybe that was impulsive. Maybe you’d just wanted to reassure him that you didn’t hate him, with him looking so gentle and wounded like he was. Almost instantly, his gaze snapped back to you, face splitting into an overjoyed grin that seemed to glow brighter than the moonlight itself… or perhaps that was the faintly-shimmering, golden mist that very subtly bloomed from between his lips and surrounded you both. Your heart stuttered as you were overcome with imagery, sensations… something you’d never quite felt before.

Biting into sweet pears and feeling the juices run down your hands but knowing that it would be washed away by clean water. Licking honey from your fingertips, surrounded by the scent of fresh bread and butter and the laughter of people you love. Being held in a pile of soft cushions, fingertips brushing down your skin.

He was golden. He was radiant. He was celestial.

He… was the most beautiful thing you’d ever experienced and—you blinked. Wait just a moment; what was all that? You stared up at him, faltering in your steps as your brows knit and you attempted to gauge his demeanor. Natsuki simply smiled, his eyes soft and distant, his energy overall serene and unthreatening.

“I’m happy if that’s the case,” he said carefully, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m happy if you trust me enough to take you wherever you’re going.” He blinked slowly and tilted his head. “You are… incredibly fascinating and cute.”

The heat in your face had increased, your walk had continued, and finally, after many hours, you’d reached the end of the mountain pass. Before you reached the outpost, Natsuki regaled you with tales of his interactions with pixies, of the annual revel of the Fae Court and all the dragons that met there, of his home, his love of animals. He also asked plenty of questions, both mundane and vast, about humans and human life. Little by little, he entertained you and kept you at ease and—strangely—in a way, he kept you safe the entire while. Finally, he glanced up towards the wall of the outpost cresting over the distant trees and looked back to you, lifting a hand to gently brush through your hair.

“I hope you stay safe on the rest of your journey, cute Merchant,” he said, leaning down to smile at you directly. “...and I hope you keep me in your thoughts.”

With that, he waved as innocently as a child and faded before you could reply, leaving you alone on the path with a mended cart and entirely stunned.

⁂

With the city bustling around you, you sigh quietly and look up to the mountain range at the edge of the horizon. The sky is bright and blue, nary a cloud in sight; the air is the perfect temperature for traveling… and you are traveling light, so everything is in place for a pleasant journey aside from the usual possible hazards of being abroad. You lick your lips, glancing up at the smudges of grey-green in the blueness once more, the distant peaks only just showing over the top of the city walls.

It has been some time since you’ve journeyed through the mountain pass. Years, even. You’ve led a relatively calm life moving your wares between the capital and surrounding villages, but now it's once again time for you to leave your roots and start somewhere new. Whether it's because you've heard rumors of new, even-more fascinating items to sell in existence beyond the mountains or simply because your heart is yearning for the road, you haven't decided. All you know is that you are called to go… and so you do, though it's lighter this time than the last trip, with only the gear you need to camp safely along the trail and the items you plan to sell on the other side.

As you take the first steps out of the city and onto the path towards the mountains, an errant thought flits through your mind; you wonder if you’ll meet him again… that strange, golden-colored being. With the way the wind is tugging at your clothes enticingly, you get the sense that anything—and especially something incredible—could happen. That in mind, you hike your pack higher on your shoulders and begin the several-day trek to the base of the mountain pass.

⁂

By incredible, you hadn’t really meant ‘earth-shattering’.

Of course, you should really know by now that things rarely work out exactly as you expect them to, for better and for worse.

You hold onto your pack tightly, doing your best to press yourself under the rocky outcrop you’d managed to scramble to when the first roar echoed across the horizon. The very earth seems to shake with another agonizingly-loud bellow, a sound you’ve never heard in your life, so ear-splitting that you think it might have the power to kill you just from the vibrations it’s sending through your body. You squeeze your eyes shut as small pebbles and sand pour down around you. Something in the air thrums—subaudible, thunderous pulses… a chorus of them in various pitches. You pull your legs up, whimpering quietly as you continue to hide, unsure if you should be praying to the powers that be, and look up just in time to see a jaw-droppingly massive figure of gold go crashing into the forest below the path. Another rumble echoes through the ground as trees fall around the impact. You stare, unable to close your mouth in your shock as the figure is followed by several more, some pausing in the air to hover.

Dragons.

You realize the pulse in the air is the sound of their wings, big enough to cast a full district of the capital city in shadow each. There are seven of them, including the golden one that had fallen to the ground before, each a different color and almost glowing in the sun. In fact, there’s one who seems to glow like the sun itself, judging by the halo of light around its wings. You watch as they fly around each other, mouths opening and closing as different sounds fill the air with their wingbeats. Roars, growls, noises not unlike echoing wolf yips. Explosions of colored light shoot upwards from where the golden one had fallen, crackling outwards like the sparkling explosions seen around festivals in the city. Despite your fear, you can’t help but crawl forward, looking on in awe. The closer you get, the more the roars seem to take shape in your mind, almost as if they aren’t mindless sounds at all, but a true language being thrown back and forth.

“Someone bind him! Tokiya… Tokiya your spells!”

“I’m trying my best! I wasn’t prepared for this today.”

“Who would be, Ichi?! Just get on it!”

“I’d like to see you try harder yourself, Jinguji!”

“Stop arguing and hold him in place while Syo gets his glasses!”

The group descends as a smaller, rosy-pink dragon darts in like a falcon. Shortly after, a cloud of rainbow smoke as big as the palace rises from the impact. The roars decrease to smaller sounds, more human sounds. Shouting and arguing below the pathway. You take a hold of your pack, gingerly slinging it back over your shoulders before crawling out farther to peer over the ridge. With the rocks strewn around the path biting into your palms, you bend down, carefully looking down between the trees. You see an array of richly-dressed men scrambling around, clothes flashing and glittering in the patches of sunlight that manage to stream through the trees. Two dark-clad members of the group stand over the figure on the ground, hands raised and shifting between movements. One is writing in the air furiously with a sleek, black quill. Dripping purple coils of light follow his pen, sinking downwards like silt before fading from sight. The other, a man whose robe resembles the night sky, complete with glittering stars, uses a silver finger cuff to claw glowing, white runes into the air over the figure on the ground, who is growling and thrashing against a violently-bright, purple light barrier over him. A smaller figure in pink and white dashes left and right around the barrier, holding something delicately in his hands.

“You”—he stumbles and curses—“you have to hold him still! I can’t get through the barrier if he’s thrashing!”

The man with jet-colored hair and the black quill hisses, “What more do you want us to do? This is already the limit of Hijirkawa’s and my power!” There is a flash of light and another of the men comes into view, hair strikingly red. Seemingly without thought, he drives his foot down hard through the light barrier, immediately crying out in pain but staying firm with his foot on the bound figure’s chest.

“Ikki!” “Otoya!”

As it all unfolds before you, somehow the beings move in such a way that the crowd parts for an instant—just long enough for the man on the ground to make eye contact with you through a ripple in the barrier.

Green… like sunlight through leaves.

You clap a hand over your mouth as the realization hits you.

It’s him.

Natsuki is distracted long enough for the smallest man to force his hands through the barrier, hissing in pain as he shoves a distantly-familiar pair of glasses over Natsuki’s eyes. Immediately, the barrier ripples and shatters apart, making a sound like cracking crystal before dissipating. Natsuki’s shout of anguish is cut off by a sharp silence; he falls limp on the forest floor. The group of men shares a collective sigh of relief, each slouching or closing their eyes as though exhausted. Shaken, you move to crawl away from the ridge but accidentally send a cascade of debris down the side. The jet-haired man looks up, eyes narrowing as he scans for the sound before widening when they land on you.

“We’re not alone,” he says sharply. The others follow his gaze, each pair of jewel-colored eyes landing on you in turn. You feel an alarming stab of dread lance through you and you recoil in fear, but not before you hear a crackle and shuffle. You scramble backward, still blinking hard in surprise and making sure you have everything you need. Unfortunately, you turn around and run right into the arms of one of the taller men—an orange-haired man clad in little more than an abundance of sheer ruffles. He catches you firmly around the waist, pack and all, and smirks, tilting his head and batting eyes bluer than a summer sky.

"Are you lost, little lamb~?" His voice is smooth and sinuous, rich and low as it sinks into your ears. Without even moving, you can tell you won’t be able to break his hold, so you simply fall silent, glancing back to where the others are slowly gathering Natsuki off the ground before looking back to the one holding you.

“W… what did you do to him? ‘Natsuki’, right? Is he okay?” You swallow uncomfortably. “Are you going to kill me?”

The man blinks several times before laughing, a pleasant, breathy chuckle. You hear a hiss from behind you and the man clothed in the night sky robe (Hijirikawa?) speaks.

“Jinguji, is now really the time to be laughing? A human has seen us… and worse, has seen Shinomiya on the brink of—”

“Quiet,” the jet-haired man murmurs firmly. “We shouldn’t speak of this in the open. If word gets out, the Queen will want an audience… and none of us want that.” He glances among the group, taking in their equally-cowed faces and lowered eyes. His eyes return to you, narrowed suspiciously. “We should bring the human with us. They’ve seen too much and they know his name… We can wait for him to regain consciousness and then decide what to do with them after.” You open your mouth to argue that it’s insensitive to discuss your fate as if you aren’t present as well, but before you can get a word out, the man who is holding you extends a claw before your face. A small flame springs to life on the tip of his finger and it draws your attention just long enough for him to snap his fingers, sending the flame up into a shower of sparks.

You black out instantly.

⁂

The time of day is uncertain when you wake again, but judging by the heat, you assume it’s after midday. It’s almost uncanny to wake with no side effects from your sudden unconsciousness. In fact, you almost feel better than you did before you’d been so rudely knocked out. All the same, you habitually rub your eyes as you sit up to peer around you.

Sunlight filters through a canopy of leafy trees overhead; a few birds are shifting and twittering in the branches. You take a deep breath—wherever you are, you’re outside, lying on warm stone. There is a very distant sound of… music? But it’s not an instrument you’ve heard before… airy and whimsical and reverberating… not unlike the tuning forks you witnessed an alchemist use once during a visit to the palace court. There’s a quiet rustle of fabric behind you and you turn to see the smallest of the other men you’d met, perking up from a stone chair not far from the bench you’re lying on. He’s dressed in a strange, white, two-piece bodysuit with pink sheer draped over him. It’s more revealing than the fashions in the cities and villages you’ve seen, so you can’t help but feel a little flustered over it and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

“Are you some sort of courtesan?”

He flushes pinker than his clothes—it makes the blue of his eyes pop—and growls, “What? No! Of course not!” You blink at him several times, surprised by his embarrassment, then laugh once. Twice. You decay into little giggles and sit up all the way while he huffs and crosses his arms. “Oi, I was generous when I offered to watch you and you’re havin’ the nerve to laugh at me! You got any idea who I am?” You choke down your mirth and look at him after noticing your pack carefully stowed away beside your bench. His tail is a deep, dusty pink and flecked with scales that resemble splotches of gold leaf… and it’s thrashing subtly, much like an annoyed cat. You breathe an amused sound once more and tilt your head.

“Nope. No idea. Are you someone important?”

“Imp…! Important!” He splutters, standing up abruptly. He stalks over to you and, despite the danger you’re clearly capable of falling into, you don’t feel scared. He simply narrows his eyes and blows his bangs out of his face, standing tall. “Syo Kurusu, of the Starish Weyr, where you’re currently being held.” He sniffs. “Who are you? Don’t look like a princess.” You smile with vague interest.

“‘Syo’, huh. That’s a curious name.” You stand up, still looking around as you straighten your clothes. You tell him your name and explain you’re a humble, traveling Merchant. He frowns as he listens to your concise explanation and nods when you’re finished.

“Eh… That explains why you were traveling through the valley, I guess. Shame you had to…” He wrinkles his nose, looking unsure. “...shame you had to see everything. But… You said Natsuki’s name.” You lick your lips and nod slowly.

“We’ve met before… It was a long time ago.”

Syo snorts. “‘A long time ago’. Heh. You’re really a human.” He rubs the back of his head as his eyes bob around thoughtfully before going wide. “A… a Merchant, you said?” You frown.

“Yeah… nothing special, like I said, but—”

“You’re the one he talks about all the time! You have to be!”

You blink. “What?” Syo grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards an archway that disappears into a hall.

“Come on, come on! I’ll take you to see him.” He turns back and gives you a surprisingly bright grin. “We can get this all cleared up without Tokiya wanting to wipe your brain or somethin’. He’s careful, but honestly? He’s a little hard on humans.” He releases your hand as you enter a high-ceilinged hallway, lined with equally high windows. The walls are carved of a cream-colored stone; it causes the sunlight to suffuse the entire structure with a richly-golden shade. Syo continues to chatter aimlessly as you pass various crossroads in the seemingly-endless… castle? Manor? You’re actually not quite sure what to call this building aside from the term your guide had used earlier, ‘weyr’. Best you can tell, it’s easily as big as one of the grand council halls from the capital and, consequently, one of the largest structures you’ve been inside. You pass a hallway and see a flash of inky tail slide along the stone, disappearing into a doorway you only can catch a glimpse of at the pace you’re traveling.

Eventually, you realize you’re slowly ascending, whether by stairs or grand, spiraling staircases, to higher and higher levels until you—quite suddenly—step out of a stone archway and find yourself knee-deep in lush grass. You lift a hand to shield your eyes at the change in lighting and glance at Syo, who is stretching casually. A light breeze ruffles his clothing and hair and he sighs before stepping out towards a stand of trees in the middle distance. You follow, stepping carefully, unsure of the new territory.

“So… what’s this about Natsuki mentioning me?” You ask lightly. Syo’s tail lifts and ripples as he climbs onto a log, treading down it while lifting his arms for balance.

“Ah… A few years back, he mentioned meeting a human,” he explains. “And uh… We actually haven’t had any dealings with humans since…” He frowns. “Well, it’s been a long time. At first, we got worried. Natsuki doesn’t always… know his own strength. With how excited he gets, he could easily hurt one of you guys. You’re all so small and fragile.” You hide a laugh with a false cough, thinking it’s funny for a man so small to be talking about humanity’s stature. Syo hops down off the log towards the end, beginning to lead you to where the trees grow a little thicker. The sound of wildlife increases and the air itself seems to thrum with some unseen energy. It tingles in the base of your spine and makes you feel a little stronger, a little fuller. Syo continues, “Anyway, when he told us about how calm you’d been, we were pretty amazed. What with the way dragons used to be known, you… seemed to take us pretty in stride, heh.”

You shrug gingerly. “I was scared, I won’t lie, but… I figure if some Fae is being kind to me and helping me out, then I have nothing to complain about. I got to see magic up close!” You take a measured, excited breath as the rush of the memory returns to you. “Not even Trickery or the typical Spellweaver stuff, like… Real magic! He just waved his hands and my cart came together again!” Syo’s ears lift slightly before he winces.

“R-real magic….” You nod. “Are all of you like that? I saw some of the magic being used earlier… the guy with the quill and the one with the finger cuff. You’re all dragons, aren’t you? Just like he is…”

“Mm…” He agrees vaguely. “We’re all dragons, sure. Not all of us are like Natsuki, though.” He pauses before some draped branches of some species of willow tree. You lift a brow.

“Oh? What… what makes him different?”

Syo looks back at you. “Natsuki’s… the strongest magic user I’ve ever seen outside the Queen’s Court… and maybe even then.” You can’t say that anything goes against your expectations at this point, considering you’ve been existing in a vacuum of spectacle for who knows how many hours now, yet still you feel your heart drop. Syo pulls the curtain of branches aside and steps through and you follow dazedly. Light blinds you for a moment and you lift your hands while your eyes adjust once more. When you lower them again, your jaw drops.

The mountain rolls before you for a great distance. You’re amazed that despite being this high, there’s no snow to be seen. Instead, there’s an expanse of the same grass you’ve been wading through, along with splashes of wildflowers and trees, and—most eye-catching of all—a lake. It’s so clear and gentle that the surface is almost mirror-like, reflecting the slowly-reddening afternoon sky, peachy clouds, and the brilliant sun. The wind ruffles it every few moments, causing the trail of the sunlight to shatter into glittering patches. Still, it’s not the environment that makes your breath catch.

It’s the massive, golden, feathery dragon sleeping on the bank of the lake.

You blink rapidly several times, going completely still as you drink in his looks. A great mane of feathers begins at the crown of his head and hugs his jaw like a lion, descending down his spine in a small trail before bursting into another crest of feathers at both the base and the end of his tail. A strange contraption extends from his ears on either side: filigree bars that hold glass disks to his eyes, a dragon’s replacement for human spectacles.

He breathes in deeply, eyes closed, and exhales again, causing the grass in front of him to flatten.

The comical interruption of your admiration makes you laugh, drawing Syo’s gaze.

“C’mon. Looks like he’s still sleeping, but… He should be waking up again soon.” He trudges down the hill towards the bank and you all but stumble after him, eyes still trained on Natsuki… or… you assume it’s Natsuki.

“He… he’s as big as the town square!” You say breathlessly.

“Mm? Oh. Yeah, Natsuki’s also one of the largest of us.”

“I thought he was… still in his… human form?” Your voice falls to an awed whisper as you finally reach him and marvel at the jeweled, almost lacquered look of his scales. His chest rumbles with the sound of his breaths, louder than the quiet tide of the lake. Syo smacks a clawed hand on the side of Natsuki’s neck and hums.

“He kinda got put through a lot earlier; that binding spell by Masato and Tokiya was no joke. After somethin’ like that, access to the other plane can get pretty volatile, so we brought him out here in case he shifted back and forth… and so he could absorb some of the properties of the lake.” He points to the small waves that are washing up on the pale sand and you notice small whorls of colorful iridescence in the water that seem to be drawn to the bits of Natsuki that are partially submerged. His scales glitter visibly as the whorls sink into him with every breath. Suddenly, the sound of an explosion rocks the air and Syo’s eyes widen as he turns back towards the direction of the weyr and curses under his breath. He waves at you with both hands in a frenzied manner and lurches into a run.

“I forgot I had something waiting for me—messy—uh…! Stay right here and try not to startle him if he wakes up!” He bursts his way back up the hill, calling over his shoulder to not tell Tokiya you were left alone. When he’s gone, you turn back to Natsuki, whose eyes are still heavily shut. Up close, you can see that the scales over his eyelids are so fine they almost appear velvety. The quills of his feathers are as big around as your lower legs. Before you’re even aware, you’re resting a hand on his cheek that’s as tall as you are at least.

His scales are warm…

You drag your hand over them gently, feeling the strange, stone-like texture with unimpeded inquisitiveness, flexing your fingers against the curves and ridges as you take steps towards his snout to watch his breaths bend the grass. One of his paws is beneath his chin, massive fingers and claws extending outward and digging into the sand. Seeing him this way, you can hardly believe such a behemoth could fit into the man that’s only a few inches over average height… and such a gentle one at that, or so you’ve experienced. After staring wondrously at the grass in front of him, you make your way back, studying the size of his eye sockets, the ways the folds of skin around his ears grow thin and smooth for flexibility, the places where his feathers are joined to his body. All at once, you’re overwhelmed by how cute he seems to be despite his size and the dangerous glimpse you saw earlier that you’ve yet to understand. You can’t resist burying yourself in the side of his mane, suppressing an excited squee as you ruffle your limbs and face in the surprisingly soft feathers. You’re so enraptured, you don’t notice his breathing come to a stop before resuming at a more subdued pace. You’re about to pull away when you freeze up as his entire body shudders and you hear, no… think, no….

“Don’t stop,” a polite, gentle voice appears in your mind and surrounds you. “I’ve never felt anything so soothing....!” You lift your head from the feathers and lean back enough to peer at the eye closest to you, which is open at last and vivid green and very much looking back at you as best it can. He blinks slowly and you see the scales of his muzzle shift into what can only be a smile. His lower eyelid bunches up. “I think this is what dragons used to experience from princesses. Waah, what a wonderful feeling! I could keep you like this forever!” You jolt away from him in surprise and his eye follows you as you point up at him.

“Y-you’re awake! ...I hope I didn’t disturb you…” Your words die in your throat as he lifts his head, impossibly high; extends his arms out, impossibly long; and yawns. He shakes his mane loose and then lowers his head onto his paws again. His entire body ripples as he shifts to face you better. After a few moments, his eyes clear, then bloom with a warm expression that makes you feel more adored than you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Oh? It’s you,” he says contentedly. “You’re as cute as you were when we met before. It’s so good to see you again; it’s like my heart has filled up with cherry blossom petals!” He extends his head forward to nose you and you think he might knock you over, but you’re surprised to feel that he’s as gentle as a building-sized creature can be and nudges you with the same force a hungry, curious horse might. “To think we’d meet again with you adoring me in such a way~ Please… please continue while you tell me how you found me here!” You glance back at the direction Syo had departed unsurely. Should you really give in so easily? You get the sense you aren’t meant to be interacting with him alone after whatever it was that had happened earlier. All the same, his eyes are massive as he stares down at you, and still full of that adoring look that’s making your legs weak.

You cave.

When you rest your hands on his nose and stroke him gently, his eyes fall closed.

“It’s nice to see you again, Natsuki,” you murmur, the warmth in your voice undisguised. “You stayed in my thoughts.” At your words, he releases a sharp chuff like a big cat and a cloud of glittering, golden mist pours from him, surrounding you in an instant. Immediately, your senses alight with tastes, smells, visions, sensations. Sweet, lemon cream bursting on your tongue from a festival pie. Dazy, midday sun warming your skin after walking in the shade for some time. Sinking into freshly laundered bedding after a long day at work.

Your body melts under the wash of feeling and Natsuki catches you with one scaly finger. You hug the digit instinctively and he carefully drags you to his other hand, placing you in his palm. You shudder breathlessly and press a hand to your forehead.

“W-what…” You take a deep breath as the sensation clears away. “What was that?” Natsuki shifts his head to the side and hums lowly.

"S-sorry… When you mentioned that you've been thinking of me, I couldn't help but suddenly feel… as if I really could spend forever with you." You blush immediately and gawk at him, eyes wide.

"What, uh… what exactly do you mean by spending it with me…?"

"You know~" Natsuki singsongs and traces the end of his thumb claw up your legs before lifting you and pressing you to his cheek. You stutter quietly, scrabbling at his paw in surprise and the rush in your system from the unfamiliar feeling of being lifted so high, so easily. As you sink against his scales, you hear a purr-like sound thunder up from his chest. "Seeing each other every day! And watching the stars together… Oh!" He smiles a toothy, dragon smile. "I have to take you to meet all my friends! Especially Syo-chan. He's so cute and small~ I'll be able to invite you both to stay on my hoard while we watch the stars!"

As he prattles on with increasingly obscure and fanciful suggestions, you can't help but wonder if he really told you the whole truth about the mist, or if he really meant his suggestion of staying together so innocently, after all… but you’re helpless against the warmth he exudes. Even beyond your surprise, you feel a swelling in your chest and a sweet, peaceful buzz along your spine. It’s almost as if you’re feeling the same sensation he described as you were petting him before.

All in all, you can’t really complain.

⁂

The pair of you continue catching up as the sun sets. At times, you wonder whether Syo or one of the others will come back to check on you, but as soon as the thoughts spring up, they’re ebbed away again by Natsuki’s genial disposition. He asks you questions about how your journey ended, what you’ve been doing in the time since he last saw you. It’s strange; despite years having passed since you met him, he talks about it like it’s only been a fortnight or so. As your conversation passes back and forth easily, the sun dips to the edge of the mountain, lilac twilight overtakes the sky, and the lake and bathes you both in purple. After a while, Natsuki’s eyes widen as he notices the time.

“It seems to be getting late…” He hums in disappointment. “I was enjoying seeing all the birds today… but!” He turns his head to peer at you with visible glee. “Do you know what this means? We can go to my hoard and you can see the stars. Oh…” He pauses as he hears your stomach grumble faintly. “Perhaps we should find you something to eat first…. All right!” You’re about to ask what he plans to do, but a cloud of colorful smoke pours off of him, obscuring him from vision even though you can still feel his grip on you. You cough and splutter, narrowing your eyes and waving your hands.

“N-Natsuki?!”

It’s not long before the air clears again and you—once more—feel your face warm as you realize it’s no longer a dragon before you but the man you met first. Natsuki beams at you as he keeps you tightly-held around your waist, his eyes scrunching up cutely.

“Are you surprised? I look very different like this, don’t I? But look!” He squeezes you in an iron-gripped hug. “It’s so much better for being close, isn’t it? Now I can hold you with all of me!” Your heart skips several beats at his words and you splutter, half bewildered and half smiling. You pat his back where you can reach and agree with him that it’s better if only to encourage him to loosen his hold just a bit. He does so, but your settling exhale is short-lived as he merely dips down to scoop you into a princess carry. Before you can even respond, he presses his forehead to yours, laughing quietly, and waves his hand.

You appear in an entirely new environment: a large dining hall, lined with beautiful sconces and a large fire pit in the center. There is a bustling energy around you and it takes only a moment to notice the group of the dragons you’d briefly met before are seated or loitering around you. Natsuki adjusts his grip on you comfortably and sings.

“Hi~!”

Chaos erupts. Heads snap in your direction. Syo, as soon as you see him, splutters in his drink as the jet-haired man’s eyes flash at him.

“You left them alone? After earlier?”

The man with the starry robe passes by and lightly brings the blade of his hand down on Syo’s head, frowning. “We told you to watch over the human until further instruction. Kurusu.” Syo grabs the top of his head with a pained wince.

“O-oi, Hijirikawa…! One of my circles erupted. It was an emergency!”

“And having a human in our midst isn’t?”

The orange-haired man, sitting at the end of the dining table, laughs into a hand, swirling a tall glass in his other. “Typical Shorty,” he mutters. Syo stands up, slamming his hands on the table as he glares down the length of it.

“Say that again? I’ve told you I’m not—” “Syo~!” Natsuki says brightly, approaching the table with you still bundled into his arms. The others each stiffen as you’re brought closer, as if you might be more dangerous than them. However, Natsuki only sits down on the bench beside Syo. “Will you watch the stars with us later?”

Syo looks nervous. “I… I dunno about tha—”

“Wait, wait.” The jet-haired man breathes irritably, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Natsuki." He looks up at Natsuki flatly.

"Mm? Tokiya?"

Tokiya (you assume?) blinks slowly, his sleek, black tail lashing subtly against the floor. "We need to know how this human knows your name." Natsuki’s face lights up in excitement before Hijirikawa sets a gentle, elegant hand on his shoulder.

“Shinomiya. It’d be best if we discussed away from the influence they could be having on you,” he says gently. You look up at him and his violet eyes slide your way, narrow but not necessarily judgemental. Under such a gaze, you suddenly feel like a child, so you say nothing as Natsuki is led away by the stoic pair. Watching them sit in a huddle together at the far end of the table, Syo sighs and gestures for you to sit beside him and—having no other options—you sink down beside him.

“Natsuki brought you here to eat, right?”

You blink and smile as good-naturedly as you can, considering the situation. “That’s pretty perceptive.” Syo turns pink and shrugs awkwardly as he takes a piece of white chalk from his clothes and begins to draw some symbols on the tabletop.

“I’ve read a lot about humans. Plus, Natsuki knows more than he lets on. He wants to take care of you, too, I bet.”

You hum, watching him with tired interest. “Actually… can I ask you something about that? I… I still don’t know what’s going on here, really, but he’s said some things and…” Syo lifts a brow, pausing his scribbling for a moment.

“What kind of things? Natsuki… eh, he talks a lot. He can be kinda… head in the clouds.”

“W-well…” You feel sheepish about it now, but your curiosity wins out in the end. “He says things that… could be taken romantically, among humans… but then he talks about me like I’m… a pet?” Syo snorts and slaps the table over the symbols he’s drawn and you almost fall off your seat when an array of food appears in their place. He waves at it all vaguely and tucks his chalk away again.

“Eat up. Anyway, that’s kinda how he is, so it’s hard to say. He’s never courted anyone before, I can tell ya that.”

“O-oh…?” You blurt while gingerly assembling a plate from several of the dishes. It all looks fairly normal, which you’re a bit intrigued by. Where did it come from? Or did he bring it into the world by magic alone…? You glance at him as you begin to pick at your food. “Wh… why’s that, you think?” Suddenly, Syo looks nervous and coughs as he hurriedly assembles his own plate.

“It’s… kind of a long story….”

You look back to where Natsuki is flanked on either side by Tokiya and Hijirikawa. He keeps glancing between them as they speak with rigid motions, looking a bit like a scolded dog. Your eyes meet and his look immediately softens, lower eyelids bunching up with a faint, reassuring smile. Even his tail reacts, lifting from the stone floor and rippling its feathers hopefully. You bite your lip to suppress a smile and wave. His eyes scrunch up the rest of the way and he lifts both hands to wave cheerfully before Tokiya snaps his fingers in front of Natsuki’s face… and dread shoots through to your stomach.

It’s just the smallest instant, but Natsuki’s eyes flash with something… an energy you’ve certainly never seen from a human before. It looks cold and distant and predatory… like seeing lightning crackle beyond storm clouds. You swallow heavily, but then it’s all gone the next second, replaced by Natsuki’s usual innocent look. You turn back to Syo.

“I think I’d like to hear it…” You mumble. However, when Syo opens his mouth, the orange-haired man slumps onto the bench across from you with a melodic sigh. You and Syo both look at him questioningly and he shrugs with his hands, closing his eyes lazily.

“Such a cold reception, you’ll hurt my feelings. I just wanted to introduce myself to our dear, new companion.” He shoots you a suave wink and extends a hand to you. “Ren Jinguji. The Clinohumite of the Starish Weyr.” You take his hand and he leans across the table to ghost his lips over your knuckles. You shiver and he allows you to pull your hand back. Syo rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, like that’s really all it is….”

Ren’s eyes narrow, distantly cool. “Perhaps I also want to make sure you aren’t spilling secrets, Shorty. I, for one, don’t care who knows what about us, but I don’t want to spend an evening getting lectured by Hijirkawa because you’re too loose with a pretty face.”

“‘Shor’—!” Syo splutters. “Listen, I’m just trying to make things easier for us. It’s not like we officially decided to lock ourselves up here, like those guys.” He nods in your direction. “What if they can help?”

“What’s a human going to do?” Ren glances at you. “Uh… no offense.” You hunch your shoulders noncommittally, wishing you could just get some answers. Unfortunately, Syo can only pout at Ren’s question and finally lowers his head without saying anything. Ren hums absently and nods to you. “Enjoy your stay… little lamb.” He gives a vague wave and slips off the bench, slinking away back to where he’d been sitting before.

It’s not long after that Natsuki is released from his questioning and happily bounds over to you and you do your best to hide your growing trepidation while he chatters happily, seemingly unphased by whatever had occurred before.

⁂

When you’re done eating, you look up to see Natsuki gazing at you fondly, his chin resting in his hands in a childish way. He looks cute with the little, curling tendrils of his hair pressing up against his cheeks and between his fingers like that. His eyes glitter and you find your heart rate speeding up before you look away, feeling a rare case of shyness overtake you.

“Y… you’re staring…”

Natsuki hums and nods brightly. “We get visitors very rarely! It’s exciting to see how carefully you eat the food… and how adorably your face lights up when something tastes good.” He peers at you through contentedly-slivered eyes. “It makes me want to cook so many things for you and see all your expressions.” You meet his gaze, more boldly than you have all day, almost as if to challenge him to continue. He doesn’t look away, only stares at you equally unabashedly, his eyes almost hypnotic in the depth of their color and the unquestionable happiness he feels from making eye contact with you.

You’re only able to hold his gaze for a minute.

“S-so…” You cough after breaking his gaze and look at the table. “You mentioned watching the stars?” He stands so abruptly that you squeak and lean back, bumping into Syo and rousing him from his post-meal drowsy state. Natsuki offers you his hand in a surprisingly elegant gesture.

“Please join me, won’t you?” He tilts his head and smiles at you. “Finally, I’ll be able to share my most valuable treasure with you.” Syo snorts from behind you and then crosses his arms and looks up at Natsuki, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you really sure you want me uh… intruding on your….” Natsuki steps around you to bend down, throwing an arm across both Syo’s and your shoulders and humming a pleased, high-pitched sound.

“Of course~! I want to spend the night with my favorite people!”

“F-favorite?” You blink in surprise. “But… this is only our second time meeting…” Natsuki hums with a smile, pulling back to clap his hands together and fix you in an earnest look.

“Mm~! And I can already tell we’re going to be great friends!” Saying this, he slips his arms under your knees and along your back before you can protest and gathers you to his chest, turning to grin over his shoulder. “Coming, Syo~?” Syo grumbles but gets to his feet anyway, scratching at the back of his head.

“Yeah... Fine, fine.”

Natsuki takes you through winding halls, just like you’d journeyed with Syo earlier in the day, with Syo following close behind. For a few minutes, you wonder if he’s going to take you back out to the area above the weyr, but then you recall he’d mentioned showing you his hoard and if there’s one thing you know about dragons, it’s that their hoards are always hidden away safely. As you might expect, he takes a sudden turn down a hallway and you arrive at a massive, circular door that’s painted a cheery yellow. You can’t help but smile when you see it’s inlaid with a pattern of bronze vines and ducklings. Natsuki adjusts his hold so you’re safely cradled in one arm for a moment while he waves his hand and the doors creak open. Over his shoulder, you see Syo frown for a moment, but then Natsuki is hugging you again, giggling and dancing you around in a circle as the dim hall suddenly changes to a bonfire-bright glow. You look around… and your jaw drops in amazement.

His room, lit by a sea of yellow, white and pale-green floating lanterns, is… more than anything you could imagine.

The ceilings are tall enough to hold him in his dragon form and dusted with varying shades of moss that follow the curved, etched arches and frieze-like carvings along the ceiling. The far walls are barely walls at all, mostly just open archways out to the mountain. You see the shapes of deer and other twilight creatures flitting about the edge of the room without fear, grazing on the grass that seems to be encroaching on the room proper. However, what’s most amazing to you is the alarmingly vast pile of plush toys, pillows, cushions, and blankets in every size, shape, and color filling the room. Your breath gets lost on the gossamer, lacy curtains that art strung up in seemingly random places, yet it all draws your eye to the deeply-colored ceiling itself, so dark you can’t tell if it’s pure black or not.

“Welcome to my room…!” Natsuki stops spinning and looks at you with a bright smile. “It’s full of my favorite things, so of course I had to bring you here.” You splutter quietly, unsure how to respond, but Natsuki is as carefree as ever and continues walking until he finds a good place atop the pile of plushies. He sets you down, waiting for you to get your footing. “Please get comfortable! I’ll make the stars appear!” You turn to Syo, who has crawled up on his own on your other side and is already plopping down in the arms of some giant, pink, round plush. He yawns cutely, his tail curling over his feet, and you find you don’t want to disturb him with more questions, so instead, you settle down yourself. Natsuki waves his hands over the room like a conductor of a grand orchestra and you watch as the curtains all come undone, lowering into sheets of fine fabric. The lights dim and, near the true center of the room, a strange table begins to shift. A panel opens in the top and a bronze globe slowly emerges from the center. When the room is properly dark, Natsuki lies down beside you, close enough that the ends of his hair brush yours. He sighs contentedly and waves one final finger upwards.

You gasp as the previously-inky ceiling comes to life with a sea of stars, constellations, galaxies… It’s as if you can see the real sky clearer than you’ve ever seen it. You glance down to the globe, seeing it glitter as it turns in its frame. “Star projector,” Syo mumbles from beside you. “One of Natsuki’s greatest accomplishments as a magic user; it can match the sky from anywhere in the world with a wave of his hand.” You’re rendered speechless, only able to stare up in true amazement.

Time passes in relative silence aside from your gasps of awe when a handful of shooting stars streak across the display. Natsuki remains still beside you, his hands folded over his stomach and tail tip flicking occasionally. You glance his way every now and again, getting caught on the way the stars reflect in his eyes. Eventually, Syo falls asleep, leaving your spirit to flutter shyly at the thought of being alone with Natsuki so close. After a while, Natsuki draws your attention with a hum.

“May I confess something?”

Your heart skips a beat. “S… sure.”

His lips curl faintly, but his eyes remain on the stars overhead. “Perhaps… it isn’t unfair for the others to worry about my intentions towards you.” Your mouth goes dry at such an ominously-worded statement.

“W-what?”

His eyes slide to meet yours, his expression a strange mix of gentle… and almost concerned. “I’ve never courted, before, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t yearned for it every now and then. The idea of… someone who I love beyond all else… and who loves me. It’d be…” He shifts bashfully. “It’d be lovely to have someone to experience this with… who doesn’t just humor me. W-who accepts all of me.” You’re still debating what to say when his eyes flash green in the darkness and he looks at you intently. “Could… Do you perhaps think… that person could be you?”

Your heart stutters and you lick your lips, hands flexing nervously at your sides. His stare bores into you.

“I’m not entirely sure why, but when I’m with you… I feel like I don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Natsuki….” You want to tell him that it’s way too soon to ask a question like that, that you can’t possibly know what you can be for him since it’s only your second meeting, and sure it’s been incredible, but you’re just a human and this is a very different world than you could ever dream up and you’re still not entirely certain what’s happening…

But you are interested. In fact, you’ve never felt so right about hearing such a thing from someone before. However, before you can give him a proper answer, Syo yawns again, shifting around in his sleep to curl around the plush he’s snuggling, and Natsuki loses focus entirely. His face lights up at the sight of his smaller friend and he all but pounces across you to catch Syo around the waist, squeeing about how adorable the smaller dragon is. Syo wakes up in a frenzy and you watch them wrestle, half amused and half still flustered by the conversation that had been cut short.

It takes you too long to see Natsuki’s glasses slip, bumped by Syo’s flailing hands, and fall into the pile of Natsuki’s hoard.

All at once, the very earth seems to shatter apart. The temperature of the room drops as an explosion of electric yellow light fills the room. You hear Syo shout, voice still raw from sleep, and you’re blown back, down the pile of plushies. The air seems to crackle with a pulse of energy as a cry rises above the noise. You hear the stone floor cracking and you scrabble frantically for a handhold in the pile until you manage to hook your hands onto something and try to look up.

Natsuki has collapsed to his knees and is clutching his head as he writhes and convulses in place, his eyes glowing green and his scales rippling with light as an aura forms around him, pulsing out and in with a dull, audible thud. You watch as light flickers through his clothes, as the air seems to split them into frayed holes at the seams and thinner parts. The shout that seems so unending pours from him in anguished streaks, so deafening you can scarcely hear your own thoughts. You think you yell his name, but you can’t be certain. Over the cacophony, you hear Syo shouting for help and names, some familiar and some unfamiliar. Mixed into his words, you hear strains of him calling for you, asking if you’re all right, but all you can think of is to try to help. You think if you can get ahold of his glasses, you might be able to help, to put a stop to this like you saw the others do earlier. If you can only get close…

You begin the arduous process of climbing, dragging yourself up by a fearful, iron grip even as the aura surrounding Natsuki seems to fight you every inch. The air claws at your clothes and limbs; something beyond the perception of sight shoves at you as if to push you away from him. Your eyes water from the pain of the blinding light, from the horrific sound of his screams. You’re almost relieved when you crest the top of the pile, believing you’re making true progress, when Natsuki’s cries form words.

“No! Leave them alone!”

You look at him, attempting to see through the light. Does he mean for you to ignore the glasses? His body shakes, spine contorting as his face twists.

“Don’t hurt them!”

You watch, horrified, as his head creaks in your direction, eyes overtaken by the green glow.

“Why shouldn’t I?” A voice that is not entirely his own leaves his lips. His face shifts back to terror.

“Please! Please, I want to keep them!”

You shiver, burrowing into the blankets in fear.

And then, he smiles.

“Keep them?” It thunders in your head… and everything goes dark.

⁂

You open your eyes to see you’re in a glen at night; the moon is bright and full and low-hanging over the horizon, and all is quiet. There’s a small breeze, warm like a caress, but your heart is still pounding in your chest from the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Keep them?” The low voice repeats quietly… and you look up to see Natsuki. Except it isn’t Natsuki… or at least, it doesn’t look just like him. The eyes are too narrow, the hair too wild, the expression too cold. Not-Natsuki tilts his head, glaring at you in a coolly appraising manner.

“Who are you?” You ask. Nothing more than a faint breath.

“Satsuki,” he replies flatly and takes a step toward you. You try to move, but you’re frozen in place like the worst kind of nightmare. He stands in front of you, only inches away, and then prowls around you in a circle like a pacing wolf. “And who are you? Why does Natsuki want to keep you so badly?”

“I-I don’t know.” You lower your eyes, feeling your knees tremble. “We’ve only met a second time today, but it’s… it’s been wonderful. I’m not sure how he feels but… I feel like we could be good if… if we stayed together.” Satsuki pauses and fixes you in a predatory, inhuman stare.

“Oh?” He chuckles bitterly. “Sure, sure. Humans fall for dragons easy.” He growls softly. “Maybe dragons fall for humans easy, too….” Suddenly, his hand flashes out, sinking into your hair and pulling your head up to look at him harshly. His claws prickle your scalp and your eyes open just to terrified slivers; you’re afraid to resist at all. Satsuki scoffs. “Yeah, you’re his type. Even looking at you, I…” He catches himself and flinches. “...I definitely can sense something beyond your humanity…” You frown weakly.

“Like what?”

He pulls his hand away and shakes it like he’s just brushed it through a campfire. He hisses under his breath. “Like… like you’re just this… void. A magic sinkhole. A drain in the magic plane.” He curses under his breath, remarking about a stinging sensation. Suddenly, his eyes go wide and he looks at you again. “A conduit.” He laughs, although it’s a sharp sound, more resembling an exclamation of surprise. “You’re a conduit.”

“W… what’s a conduit?”

He grins wolfishly. “You’re our ticket out of this pit. Mine and Nat’s. That band of unimpressive idiots callin’ themselves Starish. With you…” He trails off and reaches for you again, poking your forehead roughly. “We can finally seal all the leaks in Natsuki… keep him from hurting anymore. From breaking things.”

You ask him to explain… and he does.

He explains that Natsuki didn’t hatch quite right. Something scarred the egg before he could and left scores in it that weakened the innate ropes to the magic plane all dragons are born with. When Natsuki was born, he was born unable to control how much magic could flow through him at a time, resulting in a destructive force… and the creation of Satsuki, who was Natsuki’s subconscious’ last-ditch effort in protecting those around him.

It makes your heart throb with sympathy.

He was ripped from his parents, contained only by the Queen’s Court until a proper group of dragons could form that would be strong enough to keep Satsuki from taking over entirely each time Natsuki’s only protection—a simple, crystal barrier in the form of glasses—managed to fail… and so they had lived for hundreds of years, bound eternally to Natsuki’s care… and Natsuki to them.

Naturally, resentment bred well in such an environment, which only served to strengthen Satsuki’s anger… and thus, the destruction each time he was given control.

When Satsuki finishes explaining, you ask him what being a conduit means.

“A human that absorbs magic,” he grouses. “At a heavy rate. Most of the great Spellweavers through history have been conduits, though… I dunno if they knew it themselves.” You fall silent, head rushing with the overwhelming revelation of knowledge. He looks away, seemingly calmer than he was at the start. “Y’know… If you stay with Natsuki like he wants… you could probably learn a lot. If… that were somethin’ you were interested in. I know it’d mean he’d be able to leave, since you’d be able to keep him in check. Probably… would go a long way to makin’ him happy.”

You stare at him, watching as all the harsh lines of him soothe away the longer he stands near you. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“Just a suggestion.”

You blink and then the glen is gone. You’re lying on top of Natsuki’s hoard in complete silence, the only thing lighting the room being the moon filtering in through the curtains. You shift around unsurely, expecting your body to hurt, but you… Oddly, you feel better than before. You feel like you’ve had a week of good rest, like you’re body is more fit than it’s been in years. You rub your eyes and look around, heart thudding in shock when you see Natsuki, face down in the cushions a few feet away from you. In the distance, Syo’s voice is echoing through the weyr, still calling for help. You crawl to Natsuki and do your best to turn him over, cautiously, as though the energy might erupt again at any moment.

He groans quietly, face wrinkling up and smoothing again as he comes to and opens his eyes blearily. Belatedly, you realize his glasses are still nowhere to be found, but… but this is Natsuki, right? His draconic pupils widen, then narrow, then widen again before adjusting to the light and focusing on your face. Immediately, his expression melts into adoring relief.

“You’re okay,” he breathes, a large hand lifting to weakly cup your face. “Thank goodness… thank goodness he left you alive.” You smile, leaning into his touch.

“Yes… he was actually… very helpful.”

Natsuki looks distant for a few moments before his eyes clear, flickering with realization. You’re not sure how, but, looking at him, you’re able to understand that… he knows. He knows everything Satsuki told you while you were inside the magic plane. He breathes a fragile sort of exhale as he pulls you down against his chest, holding you with a far more insistent, mature care than he has all day.

“...will you stay?” He asks. You find your hands settling against his chest, gently fisting into the fabric there.

“I want to,” you admit. “But it’s so strange I… I’m not certain how our future would look together. I’m just a Merchant… and even though I feel more at home here than I ever have, in just a single day….” You tilt your head side to side, contemplating. “I always find myself wanting to travel… but… if what Satsuki said is true…” You lift your eyes to look at him, feeling your face heat. “Then… you could join me. We could go together.” Natsuki looks uncertain at first, brows knitting as he considers your words before his face slowly blooms into joy. He leans forward to nuzzle his forehead with yours; you chuckle at the awkward, gentle bump of his horns on your head.

“Traveling with you… I think I could enjoy that forever.”

You giggle softly and pat his hair. “Gives us plenty of time to get to know each other, hm? Who knows what can happen. It really might turn into forever.” Natsuki’s cheeks tinge pink and a puff of yellow mist streams out of his lips, sending you both into a very flustered fit that bleeds into pleased giggles.

Starish finds you like that minutes later, still hugging and excitedly chatting about all that the future can hold with a shared hope, shared anticipation in your hearts.

You get the feeling that everything is going to be okay, as long as you have him.

End

#uta no prince sama #utapri #dragon au #Shinomiya Natsuki #Shinomiya Satsuki #dragon!natsuki #dragon!satsuki #dragon!starish

36 notes · View notes

insane-control-room · 5 years

Text

Jump and Change

This fusion can pack so much infighting and angst, it’s wonderful.

Infighting over a jump, and why he shut up.

Frosty is the fusion of @pipesflowforeverandever‘s Gingie, @aceofintuition‘s Snowy, and @startistdoodles‘ Hyde, whereas Magenta is @halfusek‘s <3

When Magenta shouted at him to gain his attention, Frosty had not fully comprehended the reason for the man’s exclamation.

That is, not until he saw the charging man’s grin.

Sure, he was what felt like an entire football field away, but with a stature like his, a man can run.

Apprehension snapped into incredulous denial.

Oh no, not this time.

“Wait!” all three of them agreed on. After that it became a mess, their thoughts colliding into their words, disallowing any finished statement. Time slowed as they confronted each other.

“Look what you’ve done this time,” the gem in the bow swapped to blue, the blue chalcedony glinting angrily. Smokey quartz took over. “Me!? You can’t possibly blame me for everythin-”

“Gentlemen, let’s not argue,” the citrine seeped in. It darkened back instantly. “Oh, shut up! You shut up! No! You always side with him, anyways!”

An awkward silence filled their mind.

“I want the best for us all,” the citrine glowed. Smokey quartz scoffed, rolling their eyes, folding a set of their arms. “For you two, maybe.”

Another lull of quiet.

“It doesn’t matter,” chalcedony brushed it off. Indignance burst. “Oh, come off it, Hyde!”

“Off of what?!” he outburst. “Neither of you want me around, clearly! And I’m doing my damn best at keeping out of it, but you’re both so-”

“Both so what?” Snowy snapped back. “Better fathers?”

Hurt appeared in Hyde’s darkened eyes.

“That may be so,” his voice was low and thick. “But you’re both holding me back from her.”

Gingie looked between them unable to interfere or deny his statement, as it was true.

Hyde’s wounded expression twisted into an anger, a rage deep within himself.

“You two want me gone so bad?” He rhetorically demanded, a snarl on his lips. “Fine! Hey, Magenta, run faster!”

“Faster?” Magenta asked, raising an eyebrow. He still picked up speed. “Okay!”

“Are you nuts!?” chalcedony remarked toxically, eyes widening. “Don’t answer that, we know you are. Him crashing into us, that would make us completely unstable! Magenta, slow down!”

“But you just said…?” still, the tall man slowed in his confusion.

“If you two want me to be ‘booted off a cliff’, or whatever you said,” Smokey quartz wafted, darker and more clouded than before. “Then this is the perfect opportunity, isn't it.”

“You could just shut up,” Snowy drawled. Hyde reared to smack him, Gingie about to leap to stop him. But, with a tired sigh, the old man’s arm lowered. “Run faster, Mag. This clearly… you both… Fine. Fine. I only agreed to this to see Mary Jane.”

Gingie and Snowy exchanged an uneasy glance.

“And you both know that.”

Hyde’s shoulders dropped, making a set of Frosty’s do the same.

“Fine. You only agreed to keep me away from her. I wanted you two to see me. As me, as an equal, so that I could see her. But you both,” he shook his head, turning back to Magenta, who was looking at them quizzically from a ways away. “Run as fast as you can, Magenta!”

“Hyde,” Gingie quietly muttered, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder. The brown haired man flinched away before it even landed, sensing it from their connection. A miasma slipped from his entire being, one of a betrayed feeling, of feeling alone and continuously being pushed back into being alone.

Smokey quartz held onto the gem.

“At least he acts like my friend.”

Gingie retracted his hand.

Hyde’s hands trembled on his cane.

Focus on the words he needed, to fuse with the other.

To leave the abuse that Snowy constantly threw at him, to leave the awkward company of Gingie, just to… make it stop.

But, he knew, that even if he would leave, they would always treat him like that. Even when fused with Magenta, they often treated Chestnut with the hostility reserved for Hyde.

His scowl turned into a frown.

It. Was. Not. Fair.

To Magenta, that is.

Hyde could care less about how they treated him (because he cared so much, and there was an endless chiasm between the respect he would have rathered to the disdain they stuck to him. Could they not at least show some kindness for him being the father of Mary Jane?), but he knew that they would treat Magenta the same, and, even if he also was a terrible person, he did not deserve their insults and snapping remarks.

What could he do? He was going to force a fusion with Magenta, to slip out of Frosty at an unstable point, but now… what would he accomplish? Minty trying to teach Chestnut in his rude and forceful manner? He thought he was better than them, and acted so.

A part of Hyde gave up.

It gave up long ago, but….

He heard Snowy and Gingie coaxing Magenta to slow down.

He said nothing.

He, for once, just listened to Snowy, and shut up. Maybe if he would stop arguing so much with him, they’d let them see their dear MJ, how he missed her….

He retreated to a far corner of their mind, watching Magenta’s approach with their eyes.

The bow remained blue and a golden orange.

He sensed their reluctance to catch Magenta as he jumped onto them, Snowy attempting to convince Gingie not to.

He stood sharply, pushing them out of the way to take control of them, to hold his friend, his only friend. If they did not care for him, fine, but he would not allow their sharp antagonism to hurt him.

Hyde knew they could hear all his thoughts.

Frosty blinked.

Magenta smiled at him. Hyde managed a weak return. Snowy and Gingie looked at each other, and came to stand with him.

He tried to ignore the trembling in his hands.

Gingie’s hand came to his shoulder.

He let him.

Snowy did not look at him, but there was a change in his attitude.

This could work, they all silently agreed.

#queue pasa?#control writes #gift fic #control art #frosty #magenta #hyde #gingie #fusions #joey snowy drew #angst with a happy ending #infighting #arguing #3d

103 notes · View notes

saeneras · 5 years

Text

Marionette (Nicolae Bartholy) Chapter 2

Synopsis: Loss tugs him one way. Grief tugs her the other way. Just mere empty shells of former humans attached to strings mercilessly controlled by the past. It's the same darkness that forces them into each other's arms but can he resist her forever? And can she find what was lost? Will they love each other enough to cut their strings?

Nicolae focused on reading his newspaper, for once his father wasn't up to something, meddling in the city's affairs. "Like humans meddling..." he slammed the paper on the table, holding his head in his hands, frightened doe eyes haunting him.

"She wasn't meddling." loathing himself for what he did. "I need to apologize to her." he sighed but how? That white chemise accented her dark skin perfectly. It fit her snugly and through the cloth two dark brown points caught his eyes. Men of today loved a scantily clad woman but Nicolae loved them clothed. His imagination could run wild, thinking of what was waiting for him. Nicolae could undress her body. He couldn't undress her mind. Instantly his wandering thoughts stopped.

"Why this? Why now?" a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Picking back up the newspaper he read the uninteresting celebrity gossip section. Anything to resist Selene, anything to forget his impending apology to her, anything to forget how much of an exotic treasure, waiting for him to come explore, she was.

The paper slammed again.

"I'm going crazy. That's it I'm mad."

"Is there a bug on the table?" shocked green eyes looked at him from across the table. Nicolae frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to see you declare war against the table." Peter sat down, Bel Ami in hand.

"She's trying to brave this harsh world almost like a tiny mouse in a winter storm but the ice gets the better of her." Nicolae assumed it was from his book. "She's melancholia at it's finest Nicolae." Peter uttered quietly. "Lonely, sad, searching for something that won't be found. Be gentle with her Nicolae. Selene isn't a threat."

"Be gentle Nicolae." his consciousness warned. Nicolae easily saw himself wrapping her in blankets, holding her hand, giving her what she yearned for. He loved catering to the women in his life, his beloved mother, his dearly departed wife if he'd been blessed with a daughter he'd shower the little girl in love.

"How do you know this?" Nicolae glared at him but Peter remained unfazed. "I felt it." Envy bubbled within the older vampire soon it brewed into jealousy. "Jealousy is a mix of fear and anger." Nicolae thought. "Why do I fear this? Why anger?" Here Peter was reading the little beauty whereas Nicolae couldn't get anything out of her. His brother was the most sensitive of the three. "I'm afraid Peter and her will fall in love because he can read and connect with her on levels I cannot. If that happens I'll have to conceal my feelings and pretend I am happy for them when it's the furthest thing. I'm angry cause I will never have the chance because we are of different species and I ruined my chances if there ever was one."

He cleared his throat. "But I love my brother. If I need to force a smile for his sake, I will."

"That's impossible." he denied. "She's unreadable. When I try to glimpse into her mind there's nothing.

"She's like me." Peter simply replied.

"Someone cheated on her?" Nicolae's hands froze, clenching into fists. "That's ridiculous! She's...."

"Stunning?" Peter offered "Soft hearted?"

"She told you this?!"

"Nicolae. You're going too fast nor are you listening to yourself here. No one cheated on her as far as I know and I haven't met her but she stands in a pit, a dark one, she pays no attention to the light above her head because she can't see it. A large part of her is missing and those missing pieces are why there's no happy end in her story. If I could sense her better, I'd say she's a vampire as well."

"She's human, Peter. Humans have dark days too." Nicolae rubbed his temples, confused by everything his brother had just told him.

"You really weren't lying when you said you couldn't read her huh?"

xXx

SELENE POV

"Something else controlled me when I answered Nicolae. I was so scared he'd throw me out and I wouldn't have my second chance." fingers curled around the flaked edges of the book."I had to do it. Was it for Lorie or because I..I want to stay with her brother?"

Eyes closed, Selene transported herself to another world out in the hallway. She wasn't among the golden lamps and papered walls of the Bartholy manor but a grander home somewhere in London. Cinnamon pastries from downstairs smelt so good Selene could taste the sugar, somewhere Genevra slammed her windows and behind this door Phoebe would have been giggling playing with her dolls or whatever toys she wanted to play with it didn't matter.

"I just wanted you to stay alive." she whispered touching the door thinking about how much it weighed, wondering if an urn containing the ashes of her baby would weigh less or more. "Not the time Selene."

She practiced her smile, faking a closed one then a grin but in the end her face fell to the floor. "This isn't who I am." she smiled again but melancholic. "This isn't me."

Instead of the blue and purples she dreamt of for a little girl, her eyes were assaulted with pink. The lavish room set with princess like canopy bed, white furniture and cotton candy walls dotted with old pictures, sat a little girl. Round citrine orbs set in a round face complete with a cute button nose concentrated on her toy bunny. The bunny looked zombified, empty eye sockets, fur ripped out, the child lay it out flat on her barbie pink bed, rubbing her finger in between it's stubby legs, before adding two.

Smiling, butterflies filled her body with warmth. In front of this child Selene knew no fear, sadness or doubt, only adoration. Clutching the book. "I didn't give you life little one but here, you gave me back mine." vowing she'd protect and crush anyone or anything that hurt this girl, like any mother would do. For this angelic child, she'd easily make the choice to put her happiness over everything else. The scar on her tummy warmed up when she set those pretty eyes on Selene and held out a doll.

"Hello! My name is....."

"Can you sew and extension on my bunny rabbit?" the girl pouted not even bothering to introduce herself. "It needs to be longer right about here!" she declared touching where her fingers were just touching.

"Sur...." she then noticed where exactly she wanted the "third arm" right between's it's legs. Aghast Selene's throat produced no sound. "Is this just some child's innocent request? She couldn't...it can't be! She can't be asking for..for that? She's just a child." On her canopy bed Selene noticed a pile of grotesque stuffed toys all no better than her rabbit. They all looked demonic and tormented, missing parts, missing eyes except for one doll will long brown hair, balloon sleeves and a black vest.

"Oi! Stupid!" the child snorted, taking glee in herself as if she took great pride in her words. "My doll?"

Forcing herself to be cheery, her fake smile couldn't force itself. "Dear, your doll is fine! Why make your dolly even worse."

Lorie's face clouded over, the anger blazing behind her eyes. "MY DOLL NEEDS THIS! YOU ARE MY MAID YOU DO AS I SAY!" she screamed throwing her hands in the air.

"I won't give your doll a third arm" Selene placed her hands on her hips.

Lorie smirked. "A third arm? You're not even experienced." she taunted looking pleased with herself to have made the maid look like an idiot. "My brothers were right. Especially Nicolae when he said you were foolish."

"He said that?" masking her uneasiness and the dangerous song her blood began to sing.

"Of course." she grinned. "He thinks you're nosy, annoying and my big brother could eat you in one sitting but you'd taste awful. My taste is more sophisticated." she wrinkled her nose. "You're smelly and disgusting. No competition to me."

Laying back on her bed, she relaxed for a bit before acknowledging a dumbfounded Selene. "Ok dummy, read something to me." Selene held out the book with the story of the mother and baby mice. Lorie skimmed through the book wrinkling her nose before tossing it aside.

It pained Selene to see something precious given to her by Nicolae be tossed aside like trash. Made to be forgotten. She'd never forget...the story..her daughter.

"Lorie don't. That book belongs to Nicolae." she spoke timidly.

"Your hands touched it so it's trash now." the girl hopped off her bed reaching under it.

"Read this to me and explain it!" Lorie demanded sitting daintily on her bed once more. "A journal?" she thought. The pink leather and gold tipped pages looked elegant but when she flipped open the book, elegance was the furthest thing stuck on it.

A woman's back curved her bare breasts squeezed and fondled by a man tucked between her mouth as another man pummeled her from behind.

Another woman spread herself open, her rosy"lips" stretched apart by some kind of metal clamp as a burly man looked on.

A third woman's legs bent over head like a doll on the bed while two masked men took her.

Her fingers shook, the book fell from her hands hitting the floor. Lorie screaming how useless and dumb she was faded to the background in her shock.

"She's six! She's six!" her mind screamed "She shouldn't be reading or know about these things!"

"Lorie!" she scolded the child, suppressing the urge to frown and look upset. "You're not supposed to read these things! I am going to tell your brother!" she threatened.

"Tell me what?" a casual, uninterested voice asked from the doorway. A tall, pale blonde with predatory, amber eyes bored intensely into hers. Selene stepped back, intimidated. The fiery gaze latched on to her body like a insect in a spider's web, she struggled to tear away but he wouldn't let her. White long sleeves crossed in front of his well built physique, he darted his eyes away from her gaping mouth and wide eyes to look at the pornographic book on the floor.

Smirking, those frightening eyes landed back on her and a terrifying chill froze over her body.

"Is this what you are showing my sister?" he asked with a smirk, his voice deep and casual but the dark and dangerous almost accusing undertones were present.

Turning to Lorie, the girl had a gleeful smile, feigning innocence towards the blond male. "You got caught." her expression said.

"Wait till Nicolae sees what you're showing her." the male grinned then burst out laughing.

"I didn't show her anything!"

"So where did a six year old get such pictures little one?" he took a step forward, she took one back.

Lorie giggled "Nicolae will kill her! Won't he Drogo?"

Drogo didn't reply, his grin got wider and wider. She swore his canines' looked longer than usual. Was it her imagination?

Whatever it was, Selene's nightmare had only just begun.

xXx

Later...

She needed air. Clean inhalations of oxygen and green foliage and the light through the trees whispering her name. "Come to us." they said She wanted to join them and feel the grass tickling her feet. Anything to get rid of the sickly pink burned into her sight, the equally disgusting scent of plumerias from her hair and Lorie's shrill screams from curling in her ears. A nightmare wrapped in bubblegum pink and frills. Bending over the rails she swallowed as much air as she could. "It's a thankless job." What were those men telling her? "Thankless?" her nature asked.

"She boasts about her brother's eating you when you can very well drain her dry and harvest what's left of her youth. The next time kill her...make her brother watch."

Drogo sat down, his gaze setting her on fire with every flicker as if he were a boss who'd take great delight in torturing his workers. He insisted she was the one who showed the lewd pictures to his sisters. "I'll tell Nicolae." he threatened "What shall my dear older brother think of you? He's not the kind to like loose women especially women with pedophile tendencies." he chuckled.

"What would Nicolae think." was enough to make her obedient. Both of them ordered her around, dropped things on the floor on purpose, the youngest brother hit his sister's table in unbridled joy as Lorie tried to smack her with a brush.

"Attack her. Attack them. Make him suffer." her nature offered a humiliated Selene. Like a row of thorns covering wildflowers, that soon died but their withered heads flourished in her bleakness, her darkness bloomed, prickling at her dead heart. Harming Lorie enticed her, marching up to the child and draining her life from her. Watching her smirking little eyes roll back and her lips fall into a loose flesh. Oh the delight she'd feel when that already pale skin turn into a pretty grey or green colour.

"What would Nicolae think?"

The thorns released their hold and the flowers bloomed again, this time in colour. Precious Nicolae with his gentle deep voice chased away the ominous being gripping her nature.

It saved her from becoming a murderer. She'd already been scolded for the morning for something minor, he'd never forgive her. Lorie was her second chance at motherhood. If Phoebe were a little brat like Lorie....would Selene kill her like her supernatural nature wanted?

"I wouldn't...I can't."

And with that she weathered the storm but even after the annoying blond left, Lorie was still a handful.

Selene had yanked Lorie's hand away from her undergarments and the little girl threw a tantrum. She'd thrown her toys at her, everyone of them horribly crafted, their genital areas were ripped out. Only a plush of Nicolae remained immaculate.

Selene tried to ask her if her brothers were doing or telling her things but Lorie's face swelt like an angry beast.

"DROGO SAID YOU SHOWED ME THAT BOOK SO YOU SHOWED IT TO ME! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE MY BROTHERS OF BASELESS LIES? DO YOU KNOW HOW OLD I AM? HOW TRAPPED I AM?" she screamed ripping off her bed sheets.

Rubbing her arms she walked past the mini mazes and statues dotting the manor's backyard towards the trees towering over, leading to the land of the unknown. "She's six. They have tantrums. It's not her fault." that familiar motherly warmth found her again. "I will try harder tomorrow. Maybe I'll ask her what she likes to eat. We'll work something out.I couldn't even read her the book."

Something beige caught her eye, looking oddly out of place in the spring blossoms of the Bartholy garden. Squinting she swore those were tiny claws, brushing the ferns aside, the soft dirt there was the final resting place of a cream coloured mouse, two bite holes dotted it's body no doubt from some wild animal.

Instinctively she looked around for said wild animal but only the trickling of water fountains and it's stone women greeted her. "I can be in danger if the animal comes back unless it's with child." Searching for the animal again to no avail, her attention focused on the deceased animal. The more she looked at the dead creature, the more the words died in her throat. Touching it's soft fur, Selene knew the poor little thing took its last breath on that very day.

#drogo bartholy #1492 studio #is it love drogo vampire #otome #otome fanfic

7 notes · View notes