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anaiswriterr · 4 years

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The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part one, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW.

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you'd marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he's not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him...

- chapter one: wedding of peace -

•

"May I introduce you, to my daughter, Princess Y/N of Airkin Kingdom."

"We are looking for a suitable suitor for her."

"You are doing your people a public service; think of all the possibilities that will come from this.. arrangement."

"You will soon be a Queen; start acting like it."

You wipe a tear away from your cheek as you soak in a bath of milk and honey; handmaids all around you scurrying scouring for jewels and expensive lace to dress you in. You clutch your knees together; pulling them into your chest as the bath water soaks into your skin. Quiet muttering of the handmaids pulling you out of your thoughts.

"M'lady would you allow me your hand; I must prep you for the ceremony." She gives off a gentle smile, her voice so small and soft; her hair is in two ponytail braids just separated by red satin ribbon. You nod, moving your shaky hand from the milky water; another handmaid coming to your side to prep the other hand. You hadn't realized somebody sat behind you combing your hair; brushing through your roots like silk.

You watch as they hang your dress up in awe, clapping their hands in cheer.

In another life, on another day you probably would've liked the dress. Maybe even fantasize about it, walking down the isle, eyes fixated on the love of your life as you smile. Ruling together as King and Queen; but most importantly as husband and wife. You frown at their smiles. Feeling bad that you couldn't share the same excitement towards them, you realize that the people of the Dragon Kingdom were much more proud people. From travelers and trades, you learned about the people from your kingdom by the royal bookkeeper; she had explained to you that the people of the Dragons were prideful and loud. Something you weren't quiet used too.

You were far more gentle and outspoken, quiet and kind. Your Kingdom was quite the opposite.

Tales of the dragons say that they are barbaric, and don't care what others have to say. And so did the tales of their people.

A part of you wonders why you were placed in this arrangement seeing that both kingdoms are extremely different from one another.

You sigh, it's for the best. This wedding will end the war between both kingdoms and more trade will come into the markets with many more jobs available for your people, it's important that you brush your feelings aside. You flinch as the handmaids drop your hands back to soak in the bath before being pulled up and quickly covered by a towel. Patting down your supple skin and moisturizing, applying expensive lotions on you and lathering it up your body.

You weren't used to being pulled in different directions. Soon enough a much younger handmaid, who seemed to be in training, came up behind you. Placing a silk robe over your exposed skin, you ask for them to leave the room for a while in order to gather yourself.

"Composure." You inhale.

They seemed annoyed but quickly wiped the fake expression off their faces and proceeded outside, following the orders of their future Queen.

You decided you would put on your undergarments yourself, keeping the last of your dignity. And later waving them in to help fit you in the dress, you feel the rough tug of the corset they had placed on your waist. Tightening it till you were nearly pulled to your feet; they apologized in advance as your hands grip the end of the counter. Grimacing at the nearly unbearable tightness, the handmaids at your kingdom were much more gentle and apologetic with you.

You missed them terribly.

They were finally finished with you.

Stepping back to admire their work, you smile weakly towards them.

The tiny white flowers that were gently placed into your hair, the vale.. all so perfect. So beautiful, the white and small blush on your cheeks radiating the innocence of a woman. You take a deep breath, your hands running down the bodice of your dress and smoothing it out. You wipe the last tear that dared threatened to escape.

"Don't you dare start crying, don't you dare show weakness."

***

You watch as the waves crash against the rocks from the castles window, awaiting for your father. You smile, at least this kingdom was near the ocean and mountains. Such beautiful serene for a kingdom known for its brute and prideful attitude. You feel a tightened grip on your forearm, a man leaning down kissing your forehead. Your father Y/F/N, King of Airkin Kingdom here to give away his daughter.

"What a lovely Queen.." His voice comes out in a trembled whisper, you nod in agreement. Though you thought instead you'd be the Queen of your own Kingdom, your baby brother ended up taking over that role. You clutch onto your fathers bicep, staring off onto your gloved hand. You've never even had a single conversation with this man, you didn't know his name till last night, and you've never kissed anyone in your life besides your parents.

But those were most definitely not real kisses, those were cheek pecks and forehead pecks.

You feel your heartbeat start to pump faster as the wedding march played, hundreds of guests attended to see the ceremony. People from the kingdom and even other royalties attended the wedding, you exhale and start to walk beside your father. Feet moving on their own, you thought about running.

But the guards at each possible exist popped your thought of escape and pulled you into reality, if you were suicidal you'd most certainly throw yourself out the nearest window and allow yourself to plummet onto the pavement below, in order to runaway from this arrangement.

You look up from the bouquet of flowers in your hand, and notice the former Queen Mitsuki, bright eyed and smiling. Her Crown on a small velvet pillow, nodding in approval. The former King Masaru also seated beside her, holding onto her hand in pride and happiness. And suddenly yours eyes meet the man of all the rumors.

With long spiky hair, decorated with tooth necklaces, feathers, scarlet red tooth earrings, and tribal arm sleeves, a tribal tattoo imprinted onto his arm. With piercing ruby red eyes, not a smile in sight. The upper half of his body fully exposed, your eyes slightly widen. Noticing almost everyone on the Dragon Kingdom side wore very revealing clothing.

You surpass a small gasp, woman wore light fabric with exposed stomachs and legs. Meanwhile men were too show off tribal tattoos. You realize the reason why the kingdom was so prosperous. All dazzling in jewels, you didn't even notice your handmaids were dressed in similar wear, but with more decoration. The closer you got the more of him you saw, his lips pressed into a fine line.

The both of you truly did not want to be there.

As soon as you reached to the end of the isle, your father gave you away to the man that you'd now forever be wed too. And rule beside, you pass the bouquet over down to the small flower girl beside you. Giving her a soft smile and placing the tiniest flower behind her ear, earning a tiny giggle from her and large toothy grin.

You turn around and reach down to his hands, traditionally the two of you were obligated to hold hands as the ceremony commenced. They were so rough against your tiny soft ones, his eyes a crimson red finally reaching your soft E/C ones. You start to chew at the inside of your cheeks, drowning out the words of the preacher finding the floor as the most intriguing thing other than his burning eyes.

"Our father who art in heaven.."

He begins the prayer, holding out his hands, chanting prayers through the cathedral. You shut your eyes and bow your head down in prayer, following after the man in front of you. The wedding continued, and your eyes still refused to reach his. Though, you could feel his heavy gaze on you from to time. "Now we are granted the pleasure, of witnessing the matrimony of two young souls. Soon to rule this Kingdom, King Bakugou, do you take this woman, Y/N L/M as you lawfully wedded wife. Crowning her Queen of your kingdom?"

You almost forgot that you had no say in this.

"Yes."

The answer was simple, emotionless and short. You give a small nod and allow for the ceremony to continue, hand in hand with a man you had only met once. Dreading each second, the preacher raises his voice holding his hands up, declaring "the love" these two share in sake of their kingdom.

"I now pronounce you, King and Queen, husband and wife. You may now, kiss your bride."

You prepare yourself for a short kiss, something simple. But are hit with a searing kiss, long and burning passionately against your virgin lips. The side of the Dragon Kingdom roaring in excitement, it's former King and Queen nodding in approval. Meanwhile the Airkin side had only resorted to small cheers of happiness. His hand cups your jaw, a small growl erupts from his throat until he pulls away. You are taken aback but quickly replace the face of sudden surprise to a smile you practiced in the mirror hundreds of times. Waving off to the kingdom, and fixing the crown a handmaiden placed on your head.

You fight the tears that pooled on the outer corners of your eyes.

"Aw look! The Queen is crying of happiness!"

What a statement so far from the truth. Don't you know, I've practiced this smile since I was six?

***

"M'lady? You've had such a long day, we have a handmaidens awaiting for you with a hot bath. She will be in charge of clothing you for tonight.."

Your hands run through your hair smoothly, brushing out the flowers and placing them in a small basket. You nod, thanking her as she left.

Tonight..

Tonight you were expected to give yourself to the King in tradition of matrimony. With your assigned duty to birth a son or daughter for the next of kin. This thought had clearly blown over your mind as you suddenly realized tonight was the night. For years you thought you'd give yourself to the love of your life someone who'd cherish you forever. Sighing you are pointed towards the direction where countless of handmaidens are awaiting to prepare you for the night.

Silk robes and a black night gown that you thought was far to revealing for your liking sat neatly on a chair. A bath of milk and honey with rose pedals awaiting for you, and an assortment of creams and lotions and expensive soaps sat beside the counter. They strip you away of your clothes and lead you towards the tub.

"Your Majesty, we are so happy to have you as our Queen. We assure you you'll love it here, and the King. What a lucky woman to be able to represent our Kingdom. Tonight's going to be a night to remember." They rave on, startling you with how loud they were. You gasp as they place a cool cotton ball in your hand, wiping away any dirt with the rose water infused ball, scrubbing away at you hand. Then neatly wrapping your hand in a fist.

You nearly tell them to stop when they begin to pull and tug at your hair.

But it was their jobs and you wouldn't dare scold them for trying to help you, for years you promised you wouldn't be a mean Queen, you'd always be loving and kind. Even if it meant you had to endure few minor inconveniences.

Dreading each minute that went by, the time just edging closer and closer to the moment you'd be in a room with him. You bite at your lip, tugging the bottom piece not noticing thirty minutes had went by and it was time for you to leave the bath water. They tug you by your wrists and cover you with a towel, leading you into a changing room by yourself, leaving you to change into your undergarments before you wave them over.

Allowing them to finish their preparations.

You are seated back in your room, grateful you were provided your own room till you were finally settled to sleep with your “husband”. Facing the vanity mirror your body covered in a silk robe when a women knocks on the door.

"Hello, I'm Toga. I'll be your head handmaid, I'm tasked with preparing you for tonight's events." She grins, walking towards you and combing out your hair.

It's quiet for a while, an eerie feel swells in your chest. Her smile yells to not trust a single word that escapes her mouth, she's grinning like a slithering snake. Eyes slanted and dark, her voice chirps up to fill the silence.

"I heard you're pure.."

A gasp escape past your lips, her smile only getting larger by your expression.

"You know what's to be expected by tonight, I wouldn't be surprise if you wouldn't be able to walk the next day. You know what they say about the Dragons, barbaric.." she grabs your jaw and forcefully tugs you near her, whispering into your ear, "rough too. But I'm sure you'll be fine."

"H-He's not a-"

"Oh sweetie, of course he's not. Which makes it better for him... he'll know what it's like to fuck a virgin."

You slap the hairbrush out of her hand, kicking your vanity chair from beneath you.

"How dare you speak to me in such a malicious tone! Get out, immediately. Or else I'll be forced to hire another head handmaid. I'll prepare myself!" You sneer, pointing your finger towards the door.

She bows, and tsks kissing her teeth, “Whatever you say, your majesty.” She grins, her fingers trailing on the bed spread as she exits your room. Leaving you fuming at your vanity. You throw on the stupid night gown, huffing and running your fingers through your hair. You barley notice the figure standing at the end of your room, leaning against her door frame. You gasp, startled at the reflection of his ruby red eyes.

You turn around, hand on your chest. Walking backwards till your back meets your desk, his eyes aimlessly wandering over your body, tracing every dip and curve. He knocks on the door frame, “C-Come in...” your voice wavers.

His boots clank against the mahogany wooden floorboards, as he approaches you. Arms crossed over his chest till he’s finally only inches away from you, your heart is racing and a part of you wants to tell him to go away. To never come in here again, allowing Togas words to bounce around in your head. He takes a strand of your hair in his hand, admiring as it aimlessly fell through his fingers, draping over your shoulders. A finger tracing over your exposed shoulder.

“I thought you had Toga helping you out get ready.” His voice is firm, yet calm.

“I-I decided I wanted to change myself, tonight.” Your voice comes out in a stutter, you didn’t mean for it to sound so small and unsure. He nods, noticing your stature. He arches a brow, before stepping back.

“No harm, will come to you in this Kingdom. I won’t force you to do something you are clearly not ready for, nor will I make you perform an act we clearly don’t want to do. So sleep tight, and stay out of my way.”

Your breath hitches as he leaves your room, closing the door shut behind him. Your heart rate increasing by the second, you finally release the breath you yourself didn’t notice you were holding.

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

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You Are Family Now (Sherlock x Reader)

So I had to repost this, @elanna-elrondiel was the one that requested it and i’m so happy they did, I feel like since I had to post it once again I should name you for this brilliant idea. Enjoy!

“Mister Holmes may I introduce you to my niece, miss (y/f/n)”

A young woman smiled at him as she extended her arm for him to take, her hands were covered but a pair of silk black gloves and her white dress complimented her complexion perfectly. Sherlock took her hand and gave a gentle kiss, before looking straight into her eyes, however she could swear that he looked in her soul.

“Sherlock Holmes, Charmed”

“Likewise, what brings you to my dear uncles event? I don’t recall being in your presence before”

“Destiny I hope, only that could explain being around such an ethereal woman”

After that fatal meeting Sherlock had pursued her, he was astonished by her kind heart and lively spirits, she looked at the world in rose colored glasses and her curiosity about everything was so heart warming to him, it was also a reminder that not everything has to be a mystery and sometimes you need a little sugar in your coffee.

“Happy birthday beloved”

“Oh Sherlock, you spoil me way to much”

“As I am expected to do, especially since it’s your first birthday we spend together”

Sherlock had asked he to spend the night in his home, after their engagement a few days ago she was free of the judgmental eye of the public and could do whatever she wanted with her fiancé in public or not. Sherlock touched the button of her nose with the red rose he had brought with the breakfast, he could not believe how fast he had fallen for her, she was needed in his life, she grounded him, she was the sensitive happy little tune in his head that brought a smile on his face.

“Happy birthday dear”

“Thank you honey”

He leaned in to give her a gentle kiss that made her smile in between the quick little pecks that moved from her lips to her entire face. She started giggling at the matter and tried to push him away.

“Sherlock the food tray”

He swiftly placed it on the floor and dove under the covers yet still on top of her. She kissed him back as her hands held on the material of his shirt on the side of his torso. She loved how smitten he was behind closed doors, how his hands felt almost like feathers by how gentle he was with her, as he pulled back and looked at her, her right hand traveled to his hair, combing through his curls with the feeling of it making her smile once again.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I don’t know, I guess my uncle hosts great events”

The scene was interrupted by a ring of his doorbell. He wasn’t expecting anyone, he had made sure to not be disturbed today, it was all about her today so a sudden visit was the last thing he needed.

“Maybe it’s your brother”

She spoke, sensing his irritation and questioning the rude visitor. He looked back to her and gave her a kiss once again, dreading the fact that he had to go and open the door.

“Whoever it is, they are getting a brief excuse as for why they can’t come in. I’ll be back in a minute darling”

He put on his robe and to cover his pajamas and left her with her breakfast. (Y/n) didn’t mind it, her stomach was very excited about the delicious treats she was offered by her love, the smell of the pastries and the orange juice definitely made up for the few moments he had to be away from her.

As Sherlock opened the door he was met with the very last person he expected it to be.

“Mother?”

“Oh Sherlock, it’s so nice to see you”

Eudoria didn’t miss a beat nor took into consideration her sons wide eyes and shocked demeanor, she hugged him tightly as a way to show how much she had missed him, even thought she valued her kids independency, they were still her children.

“I wasn’t expecting you to visit”

“Oh dear how could I not? As soon as I got your letter informing me of your engagement I had to come and meet the girl that will be a part of our family, you have a lovely home by the way”

She said as she looked around. It was the first time that Sherlock didn’t know what to do exactly, his mother was in the same home with his fiancé that has no clue of what is going on.

“Is she here? Of course she is, you were never fond of high heels”

She let out a small giggle as her gaze found the shoes that were placed right next to his from last night. Sherlock quickly regained his cool and smiled at his mother.

“It’s her birthday today”

“Oh good, go get her for me please. I’ll wait in the living room for you two”

Without even waiting for a positive or negative response, she walked away from the hall and onto the living room. Sherlock huffed as he walked up the stairs, he had no doubt that his mother would adore (y/n), however (y/n) always became nervous whenever the topic of meeting his family was brought up. As opened the door of his room, there she was eating the breakfast he had made for her, she looked up at him with her mouth full, it was such a sight to see her do anything, she truly looked like a princess.

“Who was it?��

“My...mother”

Silence. As (y/n) waited for him to laugh or show any hint of this being a silly joke of his to tease her, as she waited the chances of it being a joke became thinner and her heart started to beat faster by the second.

“What?”

“I wrote to her about our engagement, she came to see you”

“no, no, no this can’t be”

“Darling, calm yourself”

He approached her, his hands taking hers. Of course she wanted to meet his family, she always tried to get some stories of them out of him, his mother sounded like a very interesting and excellent lady. Yet, this wasn’t the way she wanted to meet her, wearing the dress she wore last night, her hair is a mess and she didn’t have a stitch of make up, she couldn’t meet her in this state.

“Sherlock I can’t meet her, i’m not prepared”

“Dear she will love you no matter what, come on let me help you with your corset”

Sherlock took the tray and placed it at the table a few steps away from his bed. He was expecting her to be on her feet when he turned around, to his surprise she was still in bed, looking utterly mortified.

“(Y/n) come on now, she is waiting”

“What if you tell her i’m sick?”

“Dear, she is not stupid and she traveled all the way here just to see you, wouldn’t it be rude if you didn’t come down to meet her?

“I suppose so”

“Let’s get you ready”

(Y/n) let her feat touched the ground and slowly collected her dress. She stood still as Sherlock started tying her corset, he was.... used to assisting her tying it back up.

“What if... she thinks I’m not enough for you? What if she advised you not to marry me?”

“Then I guess we have once less invitation on our wedding”

“Don’t be ridiculous Sherlock, we can’t marry without your mothers blessing”

“And we won’t have to, you are a remarkable young lady that I am blessed to have in my life, I am sure my mother will think the same”

with one final tie, her corset was ready. Sherlock placed a light kiss on her shoulder and span her around to look at those eyes of hers. His arms wrapped slowly around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

“I will give you a few minutes to get ready, I will be right next to you through the whole thing alright?”

“Fine. I’ll be down in a minute”

He left her get prepared and for one last time went back down to his mother was had sat down in one of the chairs next to the window. The light of the sun brought warmth in the room and showed off the furniture that he had chosen.

“She is quite nervous to see you mother”

“Oh nonsense, I’m not some stuck up mother that thinks no one is enough for my son.”

“She just really wants to make a good impression, she always asks about you”

He sat in the couch close by her, patiently waiting for lovely little (y/n). Not even a minute went by before she appeared, her her up and away from her face and a nervous smile on her lips, she walked to Eudoria and bowed to an extent that made Sherlock think she touched the ground.

“Miss Holmes, it’s an honor to meet you”

“The pleasure is all mine dear. Let me look at you”

(Y/n) straighten her posture and smiled even brighter at the woman. Eudoria took in her sons fiancé before smiling herself.

“Oh my, you are a true beauty dear. My son is a very lucky man”

“I think I am lucky to have him in my life, you raised a very noble man miss Holmes”

“He is alright, but you... I see why he chose you”

Sherlock decided it was a good time to join the two women. He stood next to (Y/n) and took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze just to let her know he was there for her. He looked over at his pleased more that was still staring at (y/n)

“She is even more wonderful once you get to know her mother”

“I have no doubt about that. What is your name love?”

“(Y/f/n)”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady. My so told me it is your birthday today”

“Yes miss Holmes it is my birthday”

“Oh please call me Eudoria, you are family now aren’t you”

(Y/n) almost collapse to the floor. Joy took over her and it was shown by how red her cheeks had gotten, with shaking knees she held herself and nodded at the request Eudoria had made.

“We must celebrate then, Sherlock I’m sure you can make a reservation to a nice restaurant for dinner”

“Of course, if (y/n) wishes to do so”

“I would love to have dinner with your mother”

“Excellent, now I have reserved a room for me in the Lenox hotel, I’ll give you two some privacy now”

“Allow me to walk you out mother”

Before she stepped out of the room, Eudoria opened her arms and hugged the young girl. (Y/n) restrained herself from fainting and hugged her back, the nervous smile was replaced by a big happy smile that reached her ears.

“Welcome to the family (y/n)”

“Thank you miss- I mean Eudoria”

Eudoria giggled at the flustered (y/n) and walked away accompanied by her son. As they reached the door she turned to her son who was also smiling, of course he was sure that they would get along but it was even better now that it actually happened.

“She is a lovely girl Sherlock”

“I know mother, she is perfect”

“Now Sherlock, marriage is not an easy thing so please don’t make me come here and beat you with a stick, cause I will if I find out you are being a bad husband”

“Mother if I recall correctly marriage is between two people, not just one”

“Oh please Sherlock, the girl almost passed out when she saw me, I saw how she relaxed when you took her hand, she loves you”

“And I do as well”

It was true, Sherlock loved and adored (y/n), she was his one and only. Eudoria hugged her son once last time and walked out of the house. As Sherlock was returning to the living room, he heard quick footsteps coming towards him and in a blink of an eye (y/n) had ran to him and hugged him tightly, making him take a few steps back by the force of hers

“Well now, someone’s excited”

“She called me family”

“You are family (y/n), I told you she would like you”

“Yes you did but.... she did as well”

Sherlock could only giggle at her cute outburst of excitement. (Y/n) had a lot of friends and family members that were already married or engaged so she had heard the mother in law horror stories, she was delighted that Sherlocks mother was not one of them.

“We must find an excellent restaurant for tonight”

“Yes, before that”

A squeal was heard that had escaped (y/n) as Sherlock swiped her off her feet and took her in his arms bridal style. Another kiss was given to her that she responded almost immediately this time.

“I have to give you one of your birthday presents”

“One?”

“Of course, one for your personal pleasure and another to flaunt to those rude little “friends” of yours”

“They are better than your brother”

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 15: Wings

Harry was not a big fan of parties.

In fact, Harry downright hated parties because he hated all of the unwanted attention. Fortunately, this masquerade gala allowed him to remain anonymous.

After all, who would expect Harry Potter to arrive in a pirate costume with skintight breeches, a billowy white shirt that exposed his chest (and the fake anchor tattoo), and thigh high boots? The black mask that covered much of his face and the pirate hat with a huge, gaudy feather helped, too.

He'd happily avoided anyone and everyone on his way to the snack table and had just stuffed a tiny, flaky, savory pastry in his mouth when he looked up to the top of the staircase that led into the room and promptly choked. There, standing at the top and looking down at all of them, was a literal angel.

The man had gorgeous white and gold wings magically attached to his back, Harry's fingers twitched as though reaching for the soft feathers as they fluttered in the breeze drifting through the open door behind him. Gold sandals graced his feet, and golden straps wrapped up his legs, stopping mid thigh. Silky white fabric was artfully draped around his hips, protecting his modesty, but only just. He wore a golden corset with a delicate structure that emphasized the narrowness of his waist and the broadness of his bare shoulders. Gold was dusted lightly across his skin, making him shine even more radiantly. His mask was also gold, hiding everything but his sharp chin, strong jawline, and his lovely lips. To finish everything off, a golden laurel wreath graced his pink hair.

He was gorgeous, ethereal. And Harry's gut told him that he had to meet him. His gut was hardly ever wrong.

(Read more below the cut)

Without stopping to think, Harry set off toward the other man, but was beat to him by a man dressed in a muggle constable uniform. As Harry approached, he heard the constable berating the angel and he felt his metaphorical hackles rise.

"Oy!" he said as the constable shoved the man's shoulder. "Back off. What's the matter with you?"

The constable spluttered at him and placed his hands on his hips in indignation. "Well I don't think a costume like that is appropriate."

And suddenly, Harry recognized that voice, recognized posture and his puffed out chest. "Well, first, Auror Hibbards," he said, "It's not your place to enforce a dress code. And second, I don't think the business you conduct with your secretary after hours is appropriate but no one's confronted you or your wife about that. Perhaps you'd like me to go and have a conversation with her about what I find inappropriate?"

He followed the other man's panicked gaze across the room to two women who were standing together talking, and tried to remember what Laura Hibbards had looked like when he'd met her a few years ago.

"She's the one in the striking medi-nurse costume isn't she?" he asked. "Laura, right?"

Hibbards took a step back and his arms fell to his sides, "Who are you?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," Harry replied. "You mind your business and I'll mind mine."

Without another word Hibbards turned and fled across the room.

He turned to look at the angel standing next to him, "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," the man replied, voice warm and a smile tugging at his lips. "I daresay you arrived in the wrong costume."

Harry looked down at his pirate apparel. "Sorry?" he asked, looking up at him.

"I think you ought to have come as a knight dressed in shining armor," he teased.

"Hardly," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

The other man's eyes traveled up and down Harry's body, "So, let me guess, you're an auror? I would say that maybe you just work in the auror department but it was clever of you to get him to look at his wife so you could deduce who she was."

"Clever, hmm?" Harry teased. "I wouldn't go that far, but you're not entirely wrong. I've recently left the Ministry and I was an auror."

"What made you leave?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Harry lifted one shoulder, "I got fed up with the bullshit and the hypocrisy; I felt like I was slowly becoming someone I didn't want to be, so I left."

"And what do you do now?"

He laughed, "Do you want the truth?'

"Always."

"I work part time at a muggle coffee shop," he replied.

"Ah, so you're independently wealthy then."

Harry shook his head, "And you said I'm the clever one. What do you do?"

"I'm a solicitor," he replied.

He laughed, "So you really didn't need my help dealing with Hibbards then. I'm sure you could have talked circles around him."

"No, I probably didn't," he conceded. "But it was nice, just the same. A man who spends all of his time fighting on behalf of others appreciates someone fighting on his behalf every so often."

Harry smiled, "Are you here with anyone?" he asked, "Or can I get you a drink?"

"A drink would be great," the angel replied.

----------------

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a night as much as he had this one. His angel was quick-witted with a dry sense of humor, he was smart and sexy, and Harry genuinely enjoyed his company. They'd danced, and talked, and enjoyed the food and drinks available; and Harry found himself wishing that the night would never end.

When the clock stuck eleven, surprising both of them, they looked around to see that many people had already left. "Salazar, is that the time?"

Harry nodded, "Seems to be."

"I've an early morning tomorrow," the angel told him, "As much as I've enjoyed this, I should probably be on my way."

"Can I see you again?" Harry blurted.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," the other man replied slowly. "This was meant to be a bit like Cinderella at the ball for me."

"Are you going to leave me your sandal, then? Expect me to come and find you?" Harry teased, really hoping that the other man would give in or at least give him something to go on. He was good a puzzles, good at pulling at loose ends until he'd unraveled the mystery.

"No, no, nothing like that," he said quickly. "I just wanted one night where I didn't have to be me. One night that I didn't have to walk around with my face and all of the baggage that goes along with it. This was never meant to be more than that."

"I hear you," Harry said, emphatically, "I really do. I find it difficult," he confessed, "connecting with people. People can't seem to see past their preconceived notions of who I am, but you..." Harry trailed off and shrugged helplessly, "it was easy. To be with you, to talk to you. I'd really like to get to know you better."

The angel rubbed the back of his neck, "I would like that, too," the other man replied softly. "Truly. But once you know who I am, you're going to change your mind."

"But isn't it worth to find out?" he asked, pleaded. "Even if you're right and I never want to see you again, that's the outcome you've assigned without even knowing."

"Maybe I'd prefer for you to remember this night fondly," the other man suggested.

"Maybe I'd prefer to have many more fond memories with you," Harry countered.

"You were a Griffyndor weren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Harry replied with a grin. Then he grew serious, "Look, if you enjoyed tonight even half as much as I did, please just give it a chance. You might take one look at me and think this was a mistake, but at least we'll know and we won't have to spend the rest of our lives wondering what could have been."

The angel blew out a breath and Harry fought the nerves that had risen up in his chest. "Fine," he conceded, "but don't say that I didn't try to warn you."

"Okay," Harry said, giving him a big smile.

"Before we do this," he said, "I want you to know that I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you for everything."

"Stop sounding like you're saying goodbye!" Harry protested.

The angel gave him a sad little smile, "Ready, then?"

"On the count of three?" Harry asked. When he received a nod in return, he reached up and said, "One, two, three," as he pulled of his mask.

A slap to the face would have been less of a surprise than the person he saw standing before him.

"Potter?"

"Malfoy?" he splutted. "What? How?"

"This explains so much, actually," Malfoy said, his mouth twisting in a displeased little grimace. "You got to come sailing in like the hero you are to rescue a damsel in distress-"

"That's not fair," Harry replied, still reeling. "I didn't even know it was you."

"No," Malfoy agreed. "It certainly would have changed your reaction if you had." He shook his head, "Well, this has been fun. I do so love being proven right."

"It's still better to know that this was not worth losing sleep over, don't you think?" Harry replied.

"Right," Malfoy clipped. "I'm off. The pirate costume seems a bit like false advertising, by the way," he said as he started to walk away without a backward glance.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously, "And the angel costume wasn't false advertising?"

"It's a Victoria's Secret Costume, Potter. Honestly."

Before Harry could make sense of that statement, Malfoy was up the stairs and out of the door, leaving Harry staring after him with a mixture of irritation, and confusion, and oddly a bit of attraction.

"Oh, Mr. Potter!" a voice called from beside him, "How lovely to see you!"

Harry turned to see Laura Hibbards standing next to him. "Your husband is cheating on you," Harry informed her.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her right hand fluttering up to cover her heart.

"With his secretary. I should have said something a long time ago, I'm sorry," he added, because he was. No one deserved to be cheated on.

Then he walked away, leaving her floundering, and headed out the same door Malfoy had moments before.

When he got outside he looked around, hoping to see wings or a flash of pink hair, but the road was empty. Was he really lonely and desperate enough that he was thinking that he and Malfoy might be a good fit?

Harry gave it up, he didn't even know what he would have said if he had seen him. It wasn't worth losing sleep over, he reminded himself before appartating home.

Whiskers was waiting for him when he arrived and he scooped her up and nuzzled his nose into her fluffy white fur. "You love me, don't you?" he asked her. Her sweet, little meow confirmed it and he kissed her head before going in to get ready for bed. It wasn't worth losing sleep over he reminded himself again.

------------

Harry had, in fact, lost quite a bit of sleep. He'd spent the night tossing and turning, grumbling to himself, and hating himself every time his mind replayed a part of the evening and butterflies took flight in his stomach.

By the time the sun was illuminating the sky, turning it bright pinks and reds, Harry only knew one thing: he couldn't get Malfoy out of his head.

He got out of bed and he started to do some digging on the other man. It took half the morning but he discovered Malfoy had made a bit of a name for himself. He worked for a wizarding law firm and he'd made a habit of only taking clients who were desperately in need of help that they couldn't afford. Harry had a hard time learning anything else about his personal life, it seemed like he didn't really have one, but it didn't take long for him to find an address.

From there, the planning was a bit shoddy. Harry hadn't ever really been good at making plans and sticking to them so he just showed up outside of Draco's office at 5:00pm and waited.

And waited.

And then he waited some more. He waited until 6:30, wondering if he'd missed the other man somehow and as he was about to leave and return tomorrow, the door opened and out stepped Malfoy. His hair was blonde and he was wearing a well-tailored suit but he looked just as breathtaking as he had the night before.

He froze when he caught sight of Harry, looking stricken for just a moment before smoothing his features. "What are you doing here?"

Harry opened his mouth, "I'm sorry." They weren't quite the words he was meaning to say but it was too late to take them back now.

"Whatever for?"

"I had a brilliant time with you last night," Harry said.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Right up until you realized it was me."

"That's what I'm sorry for," Harry said. "Malfoy," he started, then he changed tracks, "Draco, you made me feel like I was just a person. Just a guy flirting with another person, enjoying life, free of all expectations."

"Yes, we established that last night," he replied as he stepped down the stairs and stood on the pavement in front of Harry. "That was the point of the masks and the costumes."

"Right, but I don't think it was just the masks and costumes. The person I was last night," he licked his lower lip but forced himself to continue, "That's who I really am. Without the weight of being Harry Potter. And I would be willing to bet my vault at Gringotts that the person you were last night is who you really are without the weight of being Draco Malfoy."

"Can you afford to bet your vault at Gringotts?" he asked. "Aren't you a barista? What if you're wrong?"

"Shut up," Harry said, "I'm trying to say something profound here."

"Apologies," Malfoy said, taking one step closer to him as his mouth tilted up at the corner.

"When who we both really are seems to be so compatible, doesn't it seem silly to throw that away on a childhood rivalry?"

"What exactly are you proposing?"

Harry took a breath, "Dinner? Or coffee if dinner is too much. I'd like the chance to get to know you better."

"You would?" Draco asked softly, looking open and vulnerable, and Harry's heart expanded in his chest until he couldn't breathe properly.

"I really would," he said, reaching out to take Draco's hand.

"Alright. Dinner," he agreed. "But don't blame me if this doesn't work out."

Harry grinned at him, "Feel free to blame me when it does."

Day 14: Louder, So Everyone Can Hear | Day 16: Tulips

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #oof this one ran away from me #sorry it's long #I hope you still enjoy it #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #day 15: Wings #costumes #fun

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madtickler39 · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Club T’s

One of my fan favorites from the old blog, enjoy:

One could look at Emily and assume her life was perfect A nice home, well off family that was well known in California. Naturally blonde hair, a petite little figure and long legs all around a smile that could turn a man to stone. Going to movie premieres, sports events and mingling with LA bigwigs, Emily was never long without something to do. Oh dont get me wrong, Emily never complained. She loved her family, loved her friends, loved her job. She’d never complain for a second. But still something was missing. That’s why Emily found herself where she was, in a taxi outside a new and mysterious club in downtown LA. She stared at the door for a long time before the driver finally asked “Are you gettin out or what?” Emily came back to reality and paid the driver, and stepped out of her car as confidently as she could. What she couldn't sell her blue dress and black heels could. She walked into the club like it was nobody’s business, and was an instant bombshell to the eligible young men at Club T’s. What made her walk into this particular club that night? Well, to understand that, we have to go back a little bit. Emily had a friend named Stephen, and one time not too long ago Stephen did something she couldn’t get out of her head. He tickled her. It wasn’t her first time being tickled, not by a longshot. For some reason, the feeling she got when he finally stopped kept coming back to her head like a drug, needing to come forward again and refusing any lesser pleasure. She had no trouble finding a man to do anything she wanted, but for some reason this one request proved elusive to her charms. After a brief search on the internet, she found out that club T’s was the place to find what she wanted. It wasn’t easy to find out how to get in, the people she was here to see were very secretive. The main club was just like any other club. The music was too loud, the drinks were too expensive and you couldn’t see or move anywhere. After a few minutes of moving around she found the specific corner that housed the VIP section of the club, she said the codeword to the bouncer, and with a smirk he let her in. It was the look a wolf gives a deer after a day without food, and it unsettled her. Inside, the VIP area was another world. The clothes were different, the lights were a bit brighter, and you could hear yourself over the music. The men were dressed in anything from suits to T-shirts while the girls were wearing some pretty revealing clothing, anything that exposed the belly, shorts, mini skirts and few of them wore heels. They wore colored wristbands, green yellow and red. Green was an open invitation, yellow required an ask, and red meant not to approach. Emily had a yellow wristband, fastened around her ankle like the website advised. There was more seating space than at any normal club here, couches and chairs everywhere. The dance floor had some people, but others were chasing each other around the floor, and in a couch by the corner a man had a captive girl in his lap. Her hands were bound and her feet were in his lap. As he grabbed the toe of her sock, her bound hands came up to her face to conceal her smile and she shook her head. He grinned evilly and slowly pulled the sock off, revealing her bare foot. At the edges of the dance floor were a few suspended cages, each with a girl inside and a person outside sticking a feather duster in. Emily asked the bartender “What’s all that about?” A cute redhead in a black corset said “Those girls work here. The customers pay to use the feather dusters for a time. They can also pay to remove clothing or lower the cages. It breaks the ice for the newcomers. Speaking of, is this your first time?” “Why yes” said Emily looking around. “Is this actually for real?” The bartender, whose nametag read “Sam” said “It sure is. I can lock you in that cage if you’re too nervous to get started on your own?” Emily blushed, and suddenly a voice came from behind her that said smoothly “Sam, hasn’t your boss told you not to mess with the new talent? Or do I have to tickle you for your tips again?” Sam blushed now, and backed towards the liquor shelf nervously. Emily asked the tall, suit clad stranger “What?” He said “Oh you haven’t heard? If you find their service in any way lacking, you have to give them the oppurtunity to get their tips tickled back into them. That’s why she wears a corset, her pits are her worst spot.” She hissed “Damon!” So you weren't kidding on the website” Emily asked. “This really is a tickle club.” Damon said “Oh yes, but if you want to see come by when Sam brings my bottle of Dom. She needs a good tickling to earn her tips back after that hiss…” Sam gulped. She’d done it now. Damon slapped down a 20 and said “Whatever the lady likes is on me.” Sam fixed Emily a drink and grabbed a champagne bottle, but Emily hesitated as Sam left. Sam looked over her shoulder and said “You comin? This is what you wanted right?” Emily finished her liquid courage, and followed Sam to a door labelled “Barefoot Room” Upon entering, Sam said “It’s quite literal, no shoes allowed inside.” Sam quickly kicked off her pumps and went inside, and Emily removed her peep toed heels to join her. “You learn quickly Emily” Damon smiled as he smiled at Emilys little feet as she flexed her toes “Im just amazed” Emily replied blushing as she felt Damon's gaze on her toes “Theres nothing to feel scared about Emily" Damon smiled as he took a sip of his drink. “so tell me what brings you here”” Emily took a deep breath, and then she started “It all started when my friend Stephen tickled my feet a few months ago. It felt...well I guess how a normal person feels being tickled. Sure, the laughing was fun but when it was happening I just wanted him to stop after a few seconds...afterwards I couldn’t get it out of my head. I tried forgetting it, distracting myself. Anytime I was alone with my thoughts, I thought of that sensation and how badly I wanted it back. So I found this place...and here I am.” “And here you are.” Damon said. He saw Emily look down nervously and said “Emily, come sit by me.” She came and sat down next to him hesitantly, and drew her feet behind her knees, where Damon couldn’t see them. It was all she could do not to blush. He asked her “Sam needs to be tickled if she wants her tips from me, where should she be tickled?” “Her underarms” Emily replied without hesitation. Sam shut her eyes and raised her arms, beginning to breathe heavily. She begged “Please be gentle.” Damon looked and raised an eyebrow “you answered that quickly for a newbie; I think we may have a little sadist here. Sam, I think we should let your new friend here do the honors” Emily looked nervous again, and said “You want me to tickle her?” Damon nodded silently and said “If you'd prefer I can tickle her. The whole time you watch her suffer knowing that it's coming for you next…” She was up in an instant, and facing Sam directly. Sam felt her breathe and winced, that gave Emily an inexplicable pleasure. She pounced. Emily dug her nails into Sam’s underarms, and Damon smirked as she screamed. Sam was able to hold her arms up for a few seconds, but within 15 seconds they came down reflexively. Sam laughed like crazy but Emily wouldn't let up. Sam tried to turn away, but Emily kept at it, and pulled Sam closer. The punishment became a wrestling match soon as the girls came to the ground, with Emily straddling her hips. Emily leaned forward and pinned the poor bartender’s wrists over her head and blew on her underarms, which drove sam into a mad fit of giggles. She begged “HEHEHEHE Stop teasing!” Emily couldn't tell you why she said this, but she shouted “This is club tease!” Before she could sink her nails back into Sam’s smooth hollows, Emily burst out laughing “HAHAHAHAHA!” And lost her grip. Sam scrambled out from under her, and went to Damon, who was holding Emily’s ankle, with his other hand gently stroking her sole. She giggled gently with each stroke of his hands. He patted Sam on the butt and said “That’s enough sweetie. Call me when you get off work. For now I have some soft, pretty feet to break in.” This comment made Emily blush, and wiggle her baby blue toes. As Sam walked out of the room and grabbed her shoes, Emily looked down, anticipating the tickling. The tickling was slow, methodical. He was really tickling her brain more than her sole. Reminding her that he could do what he want, control her body against her will. He could make her laugh whenever he pleased. All it took was a foot and a finger. He had the finger, and the foot may as well have been a plaything of his. It was in his grasp and she wasn’t getting it out. Emily remained on all fours(or threes, not counting the foot that belonged to Damon at the moment), and giggled when Damon wanted her to, otherwise she just accepted the breaks and caught her breath. Sometimes she would look back at Damon, nearly melting him with that forced smile. Other times she looked away and tried to just take it. During a break, Damon rubbed her sole with his palm and commented “I see you took the website’s advice and got a pedicure. How recently?” Emily giggled “A couple hours ago hehehe.” she heard Damon inhale deeply and felt his lips rub along her sole now. His lips tickled ever so slightly. She giggled “hehehehe are you smelling my foot?” She read many of the men here also had foot fetishes, but never expected to find herself here tonight… He replied “You used a vanilla scented lotion. It’s my favorite.” “EEP!” She squealed, something had pinched the ball of her foot, and one look back at Damon licking his lips told the whole story. Could she really drive him so crazy with just her feet? This could add some fun to the tickling...but before she could finish that thought, her mind commanded her to laugh again. Emily fell flat on her belly as she felt a warm, wet sensation streak across her arch. She turned her head to the side to release peals of laughter, and started pounding the carpet with her fist. If Damon’s finger was mean, his tongue was just cruel. Emily was at once suffering and feeling an indescribable ecstasy. All she could do to cope was laugh, and between breaths beg “Hahahaha! Stahahahahap!” Emily got herself a momentary respite from Damon’s tongue, but only because he needed it to taunt her. His fingers returned to gently stroking her arches as he taunted “Oh you don’t want this to stop. If you did you’d pull your foot away. Look.” Emily flipped over and saw that his hand was open, only cupping her heel. He tickled with all his fingers slowly, and she reflexively pulled back a few inches, then paused. Emily hesitated a few seconds, it tickled so bad but there was just nothing like it. Her foot slowly slid back into his grip, and his hand closed around her ankle. She gasped, what had she done? Damon taunted “See? I knew you liked it!” And he tickled her sole all over again with his fingers, making her laugh even louder, wondering why she gave her foot to him. He lifted her foot up to his mouth, but there was resistance from her tight little dress. Damon lowered her foot and said “Emily, your dress is lovely but if you want to have more fun, it may be best to change.” Emily blushed again and said “I don't have a change of clothes.” Damon began stroking her instep and commented “Not to worry. There is a private changing room in here with spare clothes, better for our activities.” Damon helped her up, and opened a wall panel that led to a cozy changing room. Emily removed her dress and placed it on a hanger, then found a pair of little pink shorts and a white tshirt to put on. The shirt was awfully short, and only came down to her ribs, leaving her midriff vulnerable. The shorts were quite short, revealing her long tanned legs. She emerged a little sheepishly, but Damon gushed over her, making her blush for the umpteenth time tonight. She came up to the couch where he sat and requested “Where do you want me?” She felt his eyes combing every inch of exposed skin, searching for a spot to make her squeal. She felt uneasy, but exhilarated. Damon grabbed her by the hand and sat her on the couch next to him. He draped her legs over his...and once she breathed out he lobster clawed her knees. Emily shrieked, breaking down in helpless laughter as she tried to sit up and reach his hands. After a few moments of squeezing her legs and knees, Damon began to gently scribble his fingertips all along her thighs and up towards her hips. Emily’s laughter went up in pitch as Damon reached her hips and pinched, and he licked his lips looking at that bare midriff. Damon gave Emily a break to catch her breath, and breathing heavily she sighed “hehehe that was fun.” Damon had an evil smirk on his face, she asked him “What is that look for?” Damon said “I’m going to have that cute tummy of yours next. But I’m going to give you a choice, my tongue or my hands?” Emily’s eyes bugged out, and she couldn’t possibly choose between tortures for a moment. She thought about her feet, and his tongue was much worse there. She answered “Hands.” Damon smirked, had she chosen wrong? What was he playing at? She didn’t have time to think any further as ten fingers began wiggling along her midriff, and her tummy exploded with ticklish sensations. She let out a loud belly laugh, and cursed as her hands wanted nothing more than to seize his and make it stop. Despite this desperate need, her mind would not allow them, making them twitch up and down her sides in a comical fashion. The game changed utterly when Damon managed to wiggle a finger into her navel, making Emily scream like a banshee before breaking down in frantic laughter. She tried to get him off of there, but her hands were swatted away by his free hand. This was almost as bad as her toes, or that tongue! Maybe she should have let him use his tongue after all… After a minute or so of her navel being explored and prodded, Emily couldn’t take anymore. Her begs became more desperate, and Damon heard it in her voice. She cried loudly “Uncle! Hahahahahaha! Please! Mercy! Hahahaha!” Damon stopped rather quickly, but Emily didn’t manage to stop giggling for another minute. He rubbed her belly during this time, and at last she recovered. She propped herself up on her elbows saying “That was wicked...I’ve never felt anything like it before.” Damon smirked, and said “I bet not.” Before they could say anything else, a blonde woman and a brunette with golden brown hair came into the room dancing with each other, kicking their shoes off as they entered. They plopped on the couch opposite Damon and Emily. The blonde said “I told you if we danced Damon would get us a snack!” Emily covered her face nervously as she blushed like a teenager, and would have curled into a ball had Damon not held her knees. The brunette asked “Who’s the tickle toy?” Damon said evenly “Girls, this is Emily. Emily, that is Shay, and Blair. Two tickle slaves of mine, who need to remember what happens when they don’t use their manners.” Damon continued “Emily is new, and I think she has had enough for one night. Blair, why don’t you tie Shay’s arms over her head?” They got to work, enjoying themselves and clearly under the influence a bit. Emily asked “So what, just like that we’re done?” Damon smirked and said “For tonight, after I do one quick thing. If you want another session I’ll see to it that you can contact me. Sit tight.” Damon got up and tested Shay’s bonds, who was standing on her tiptoes in the middle of the room, suspended from a chain. Damon produced two more cuffs and said “Your turn Blair.” She giggled as she assumed position for her restraints. Once they were restrained Damon instructed Emily “Give me your sole” holding his hand out. She placed an ankle in his hand, and he produced a pen. He slowly and painstakingly wrote something on Emily’s sole, but she couldn’t tell. All she could do was laugh and scream until he finished. It felt like an eternity of that ball point pen stroking her arches, but it was bliss for her. When he finally finished, he pecked each of her soles goodnight and she left for the evening. She inspected her sole before putting her shoes back on, and it read Damon’s number and address.

#tickle club #ticklish #ticklish feet #Tickling #ticklee #tickler #club Ts #ticklish belly #belly tickling #Damon the ler

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innaminitus · 4 years

Text

Lake

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request: so Geralt saved y/n’s father many years ago and he called the law of surprise?? The surpsise being of course y/n and Geralt comes for her may years later when she is an adult and a sexy woman? and smut? or somethign like that THANKS! (from anon)

Warnings: smut

Word count: 2221

A/N: toss a coin to your witcher is my new jam also i am very proud of poland finally having a decent witcher series (ale żebrowski na zawsze w naszych sercach)

You were kneeling on the ground and just staring at him. That was basically your favourite thing to do since he called the law of surprise and took you from your home on your 23rd birthday two weeks ago. Just in time, as it turned out, since a day later the entire town you’ve lived in was slaughtered.

You just liked to look at him, that’s all. He was very handsome, after all. It was the only selfishness you could allow yourself for.

“Why are you staring at me?” He asked, his eyes still closed.

Your body didn’t even bother to blush. You weren’t intimidated by him.

“Because I can.”

A ghost of a smile showed on his face, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

“See anything interesting?”

Lots of things.

“A bug in your hair.” You reached to his silver, tangled hair and picked up a beetle that lost its way from the grass. The bug run away to the bushes. “I’ll go pick up some berries.”

You stood up and fixed your dirty dress.

“I’ll go with you,” he sighed and began to stand up, but you stopped him.

“I’m an adult, I can take care of myself,” you said, already turning away and walking to the berry bushes.

“Hmm. I doubt that…”

It wasn’t a long walk, barely five minutes away from the clearing you stopped on for the night. Last evening you’ve seen them almost bursting with juice and couldn’t stop thinking about them since.

Once you’ve reached them you kneeled and started to pick them up, carefully, not to squash them with your fingers. One after another they landed in your basket, which was soon full. You stood up, stretching your back, hurting from bending too long.

“Are you done?”

You didn’t hear him walk, so, naturally, you got scared from the sudden voice behind you. You jumped, and, naturally, tripped, falling with your face right in the bushes full of berries. And, naturally, throwing your basket at the man.

With a squeak you turned, trying to sit up, and when you managed to do so, you took the hand Geralt offered.

“I’m sorry, you scared me–“

A short laugh escaped your lips when you saw him; his hair tinted purple from the berries that you threw on him, with parts of the fruits on his face and clothes.

He wasn’t having as much fun as you, even though you were whole in berries and for sure had twigs in your hair.

“We need to go,” he just said, his jaw clenched as he wiped his face with a hand.

“I need a bath.” You wrinkled your nose. “And you, too.”

“We’ll stop at some lake or something, but now we need to go. I don’t want to spend another night here.”

The lake wasn’t very far, but it was far enough for the both of you to start stinking like fermented fruits and sweat. It was hot, not a single cloud on the sky, and even the protection the trees gave you wasn’t enough. Roach was barely walking in the heat, so you haven’t had the heart to ride on her.

You almost smelled the water with your senses, and run to the direction of the small lake as soon as you saw it, kicking off your shoes on the way.

The water was clear and inviting, and you forced yourself not to jump in it fully clothed. You tugged on the ribbons of your dress, but couldn’t manage to untie the corset-like back. It must’ve tangled at night.

“Geralt, can you help me with this?” You looked behind at the man guiding the horse to the water.

He silently walked to you and began to work with the ribbons. The feeling of his breath on your neck made you shiver. It seemed as if the day became even hotter.

You were trying to seduce him ever since you saw him, but he seemed not to notice it. You just weren’t sure if you were that bad at it, or if he just wasn’t interested in you. You very much hoped for the first one.

“Done,” he murmured, freeing you from the last ribbon and you didn’t hesitate to grab the material of the dress and throw it over your head, leaving you as naked as the gods have made you.

Your long hair almost touched your bottom, still leaving a nice view at it while you walked to the lake. You haven’t heard him move and the thought that he was watching you made the hotness between your legs more noticeable.

Cool water soothed your sunburnt skin, and you dived into it whole, sighing with relief, watching the berry stains melt into nothingness. The lake was shallow, in the deepest spot the water reached only your shoulders. You turned in the water to Geralt.

“Are you coming or what?” You asked, flicking your wet hair from your face.

“I’m fine.”

“You stink and have berries in your hair.”

“And I wonder whose fault is that….” he sighed and rolled his eyes, but eventually started to undress.

One layer after another the leathery parts of his clothes were abandoned on the ground, and when he took off the shirt you could shamelessly admire his muscly chest and arms. Gods he was so handsome… How could every part of him be so perfect?

“Turn around.”

It took you a second to realize he was talking to you. You blinked and your sight fell on his hand, untying the leather trousers.

“Did you turn around when I was naked?” You raised one eyebrow and immerged almost whole into water, leaving only your eyes and nose above the panel.

A smirk was all you got as an answer, but it was enough to tell you that he did not turn his gaze away.

“Y/N…” His voice was warning, but the smirk was still on his face.

“Fine.” You turned away, waving your hands in the water. “But that’s not fair.”

You heard him walk into the water and excitement overtook your body. That was probably your biggest achievement in the art of seducing; to have him naked not so far away from you.

“Can I turn now?”

“Yes.”

He was much closer than you expected him to be, but still what felt like miles away. You rinsed your hair, frustrated, doubting there was any way to actually be closer to him.

“You have leaves in your hair…” He smiled, watching you try to wash them out. “I’ll help you.”

He swam closer, and you hoped he didn’t see your blush. The clear water was transparent, and you could swear you saw him stare at your breasts for at least a second.

His fingers were more delicate than you would expect them to be when he took out the twigs and leaves, but it was the closeness of his warm chest that made you shiver. You wanted to kiss every bit of his skin, lick every scar and pain.

Your fantasies took too long. He already moved away.

Shit.

You immerged into water completely, hiding your frustration away. It was never going to happen, you had to face the truth. He wasn’t interested.

Unless he was.

You stood straight and swam a little further from him.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher,” you started to sing a song he hated so much. “Oh Valley of Plenty…”

He turned to you with anger.

“Stop it.”

“Oh Valley of Plenty, oooh.” You were swimming further and further.

“Y/N, I’m warning you, stop singing this cursed song.”

“Make me.” You smiled cockily and turned to swim. “Toss a coin to your–“ You squeaked as he swam to you incredibly fast and grabbed your waist from behind, his fingers on your lips silencing you.

“Shush.”

You could feel his scars on your stomach as he was holding you this tight. One step you could blame on clumsiness was enough to have your back fully pressed on his wide chest and his chin in your hair. You froze like this, afraid that any movement would cause him to let you go.

You were blissfully aware of every inch on your bodies touching; from the hand on your lips, his face in your hair, the hand on your belly, your back against his chest to the hard length pressed to the small of your back.

Hardlengthhardlengthhardlenght. Keep calm, Y/N.

His breathing was heavy, as if he was fighting with himself. You wanted him to lose the fight.

He twitched and quickly let you go. Only you didn’t plan on giving up.

You turned, put your hands on his shoulders and lifted yourself up, to press your lips onto his. Then again. And everything would be perfect if he only gave you the kisses back.

“Geralt–“

“Stop it,” he said, but didn’t push you away.

“Why?” Your faces were still so close your lips were touching when you talked.

“This is wrong.” He moved slightly, but you moved with him. “I am your guardian.”

“I don’t need a guardian. I can take care of myself.”

“Y/N–“

“Say you don’t want me and I’ll never touch you again,” you said, backing just a millimetre to be able to look him in the eyes. He just watched you, his jaw clenched, muscles working. “You can’t.” You smiled for a second.

“I can’t,” he admitted in a husky voice.

Your insides twirled.

Dear gods…

“Then why fight it?”

His lips captured yours, surprising you. You had to throw your hands around his neck not to fall deeper into the water when he almost sunk into you, arching your back with his strong arms around you. You sucked his bottom lip and received a groan before he pushed his tongue into your lips, and you didn’t bother to fight for dominance; this fight was already lost.

His hands slid down to your thighs and he lifted you up as if you weighed less than a feather, and walked out of the water, your lips still joined. He laid you on the grass, his lips travelled lower, to your jaw and neck, leaving wet trails to the valley of your breasts.

The ground felt as the finest of beds when he kissed you this way and flicked his tongue over your nipple just to caress another with his skilled fingers. A sigh escaped your lips when you pulled his white hair and forced him to kiss you again. His lips were so perfect on yours…

He positioned himself between your legs, lifting one of if by the crook of your knee and straightened slightly. He was eating you with his sight, every inch of you. Without taking his eyes from yours he kissed your leg just above the knee and with the other hand firmly held your hip to drag you closer. Your pussy was throbbing, you needed him to fill you or else you would probably gone mad. Thankfully he wasn’t going to keep you waiting any longer. He leaned to kiss you as he thrusted in you hard, causing you to gasp. He smiled cockily, biting your lower lip.

His member was dug deep inside of you, stretching your walls to the point where it hurt, but it was the most delicious pain of your life. He pulled off and thrusted back in, hand on your hip still pressing you onto the hard ground, but you didn’t mind, you almost didn’t feel it; the only thing you were able to feel was his cock reaching so marvellously deep and his lips on yours.

Your fingers got lost in his hair as he pounded wildly, fucking moans out of you. You kissed a silent curse from his mouth when he pressed on your leg, forcing it to spread even wider. Your muscles clenched at the new angle, you weren’t able to hold back his name as pleasure started to spread hot spots all over your body. Butterflies overtook your mind, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, all you were able to do was to move your hips to his pace, to clench your muscles and shake when orgasm hit you like a wave and a loud moan woke probably every bird in the forest.

He wasn’t long behind; your movements brought him to the edge, he thrusted hard and gasped into your mouth, spilling himself deep inside of you.

Only when he let you go you could feel how indelicate he was with your body; and how much you’ve liked it. He collapsed next to you, panting.

“If I knew this damned song was enough for you to give up already, I would sing it days ago.”

“What?” He turned to you, resting on his elbow.

“Did you really not notice a thing?” You sat up and squirmed at the pain of sore muscles.

“Believe me, I noticed,” he snorted. “Only I never thought that was what you meant… It took my whole strength not to claim you.”

You lied down, laughing.

“Men truly are clueless…”

He lifted himself on his elbow and leaned over you.

“I can show you how I am everything but clueless.” A smile ghosted on his face as you kissed him.

And this time you didn’t have to sing.

___

tag list:

💞: @taylorswiftloverforever13 @thomasfoockinshelby @kaylig02 @daddyloki @it-jinxed-us @themusingsofmany @randomlea @annakohanasworld @theunofficialduke @prismroot-starlight0 @deathofmissjackson @tricksterwinchester @villanellevi @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @forgoshsake-watchyourlanguage @grace-barnes-13 @starofthedawn

#geralt x reader #witcher x reader #geralt x you #the witcher smut #geralt smut #witcher x you #geralt x y/n #witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia x reader #witcher smut #the witcher #witcher

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mage-ellie · 3 years

Text

The Yearly Halloween Ball

Wrote this really quick while taking a small break from my akechi x fem!reader book yesterday! I wanted to do something Halloween themed since Halloween is approaching :D The 4th chapter of my book with either be posted later tonight or tomorrow :)

Link to original post on AO3: Click me!

Link to the book i’m writing if you’re interested: Click me!

Word count: 2,512

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst because akechi is an edgy boy, slight spoilers

Summary: Akechi never took an interest when it came to the events held at his school, but this year was a little different.

Every year on October 31st, the high school Akechi attended would hold a Halloween Ball. Each year had a different theme. For example, last year, the theme was 'murder mystery' and the year before that was 'graveyard'. This year, however, the student council president decided to go with a different route. This year's theme was 'masquerade'. The students were encouraged to wear their costume of choice, but you must wear some sort of face covering, whether it be a werewolf head or a simple mask. "Get creative!" The student council president had said when he announced this years theme.

The young detective was never a fan of school events, simply because he would be hounded by the student body and his fangirls, but this piqued his interest. An event where nobody would know who he was? He had been working hard these past few weeks, so he thought it wouldn't hurt to attend and have a bit of fun. He'd have to make sure his mask covered enough of his face though.

Of course, Akechi would dress up like the prince he had always dreamed of being. He picked out his best white suit and a deep blue undershirt. He also draped a white cape, embroidered with a light blue thread, that reached his hips over his shoulders. His dress shoes were a polished white and his gloves were the color of freshly fallen snow. The blue masquerade mask he had chosen was nothing fancy. It covered the upper half of his face, as well as the right side of his face. Perfect. Lastly, he tied his hair up into a ponytail that sat low on his head.

The Prince wasn't expecting much from this dance. Perhaps he would dance with a few girls, maybe he'd even get the chance to dance with you, though, he tried not to get his hopes up. He had overheard you talking about going to a Halloween party with your friends during class the other day. You didn't seem all that interested in the ball, but there's always the chance that you'd change your mind. Akechi never believed that he deserved to be around someone as pure as you. He was afraid that he might taint you, but tonight he was feeling selfish. If he got the chance to dance with you, he'd never indulge in his desires again.

Akechi decided to take a taxi to his school where the ball was being held. He didn't want to chance having his costume ruined by someone on the subways. Despite his identity being hidden, he still wanted to look good.

Upon entering the large building where the dance was to take place, he raked his eyes over the mass of bodies already dancing, silently hoping that he'd spot your form amongst the crowd. Although, he had no idea what you would be wearing, even if you were here.

He descended the flight of stairs that led to the party area. For a moment, he thought he had made a mistake by coming here. Many of the students turned and looked at him, whispering to each other, questioning his identity. He even heard his name said a few times. However, no one approached him, which he was grateful for.

The song currently playing was somewhat fast. The slower songs wouldn't be played until the end of the night. The celebrity had time to prepare himself for the dances that he was bound to be asked to participate in.

Akechi made a slow lap around the building, almost hoping that he'd see you. It seems as though the cruel fate he had been given wouldn't allow him to see you tonight. This was nothing new to him, yet he couldn't stop himself from feeling disappointed.

Or maybe not. A sudden eruption of whispers erupted from the crowd, all of them talking about the mysterious princess in red.

Akechi allowed his eyes to wander to the stairs which led to the entrance. His breath caught in his throat and his cheeks flushed. The beating of his heart increased until it felt like it would burst out of his chest. A strange, yet warm sensation flowed through his body. For a moment, it felt like a soft pair of hands were cradling his shattered, broken heart, holding it together and taking away his pain.

The lovestruck man recognized you immediately. The flowing length of your hair. The graceful way you moved, as if you were floating across the ground. Your soft, slightly flushed skin. The kind and shy smile that sat on your perfect lips. You were wearing a scarlet, off the shoulder dress. Your sleeves were lace and the silky material around your stomach mimicked the look of a corset, which accentuated your beautiful body. The same silky material draped above your knees in the front and reached your ankles in the back in ruffle-like waves. The dress you had chosen had black accents on the corset and ruffles. The mask you had chosen was midnight black and covered the upper half of your face. A single, long iridescent black feather sat on the left side of your mask and flowed like a wave behind you as you walked. The color of your high heels matched the color of your mask. A small, silver tiara sat perfectly on the top of your head.

You looked absolutely enchanting. Akechi was finding it difficult to look away from you, although, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed the boy who held your hand. One of the boys in your friend group was your date.

He wouldn't let that get him down though. You were here. Even if he didn't get the chance to dance with you, Akechi thought that maybe, you'd look his way while he danced, or notice him standing by himself by the punch bowl.

You vanished from his view into the sea of people just as quickly as you had appeared. Perhaps he'd make his way around the building one more time, to get a glimpse of you in that dress once more.

The dance was planned to go on for two hours, and an hour and a half had already passed. Akechi hadn't seen you since you came in. He wondered if you had left already. It was about time that he got going as well. People were beginning to recognize him.

As he made his way to the entrance, he noticed your date, who was dancing with another girl. Akechi's blood boiled. The Ace Detective couldn't believe that your date would be stupid enough to dance with another girl, when you were the perfect partner. He made a mental note to find out the name of your date when he had the time.

However, when he made his way outside, the sight before him took his breath away. There you were, only a few yards from the door, rubbing your arms from the cold while looking up at the night sky. If Akechi didn't know any better, he would've thought that you were a Goddess.

Without a second thought, Akechi removed his princely white coat and walked towards you, gently placing it over your shoulders. He watched you flinch, a soft gasp coming from your mouth as you swiftly turned towards him.

"My apologies, Princess. I didn't mean to frighten you, but you looked cold." He spoke in a calm voice, hoping that you wouldn't run away. Akechi was pleasantly surprised as he watched your lips tip upwards as you slid your arms through the sleeves of his coat. It was a bit big on you, yet, he found you absolutely adorable.

"Thank you, dear Prince. I didn't think I would be waiting out here this long for my ride." Your voice was soft and light, as if your date hadn't ditched you for another girl. Akechi's heart fluttered as you called him a prince. The gentle hands that were once cradling his heart, now had a tight grip, like they would never let go. They would hold his heart until it had mended.

"I hope I'm not intruding when I ask this, but are you alright? I noticed your date was dancing with another girl when I was leaving." Akechi did his best to hide the anger he was feeling. He would never do something like that to you. You deserved to be cherished.

What he wasn't expecting was the airy giggle that came from your throat. Your dainty hand hovered over your mouth as you laughed, the sleeve of his coat covering your hand slightly. "Don't worry about that. That's the whole reason I came here in the first place. My friend heard that his crush would be attending the dance and he didn't want to go alone, so I accompanied him. I'm so happy that he got the chance to dance with her. Although, I am a bit disappointed that I didn't get to dance at all. We spent most of the night trying to find her."

Akechi couldn't hide the surprise that colored his face. You were too kind. He definitely didn't deserve to do something as intimate as slow dance with you. One touch and he'd ruin you. However, his selfishness won over when he heard a new slow song begin. The music was muffled by the walls of the school building, yet it was still audible from where the two of you were standing.

"Well, since you're waiting for your ride, may I have this dance?" Akechi extended his arm, holding out his hand for you to take. He relished in the way your face lit up, a bright smile curling its way up your cheeks.

He cursed himself for wearing gloves, but when he felt the warmth of your hand seep through the fabric, his mind went blank. It was like his body was moving on its own. Your right hand was in his left and your left hand was resting on his shoulder. He gently let his right hand take a hold of your waist. Akechi almost melted when you stepped closer to him, the heat of your body pressing against his.

Slowly, the two of you started swaying to the beat of the song. Akechi couldn't hope to match the serene movement of your body as you danced. He was completely and utterly entranced by your beauty in the moon light. He knew he had to savor this moment for as long as possible. Who knew when your friends would show up to take you away from him?

Akechi had been so engrossed in everything that you were doing, that he didn't even notice the song had stopped playing and a new one was starting. Either you didn't notice, or you chose to ignore it. In that moment, it was only him and you, swaying and twirling around the courtyard.

The Prince contemplated what he wanted to do for a moment. There was a chance that you'd pull away from him and yell at him for being a creep, but maybe, just maybe, you'd let him do it. He wanted to take that chance, so he twirled you around, but before you could fully turn back towards him, he pulled you into his chest. Your back was pressed up against his body, his arms wrapped gently around your waist. Akechi's heart nearly stopped when you tensed, but relief washed over him when you relaxed into him.

This time, he didn't stop himself from melting into you as your fingers slid up and down his hands. The fleeting warmth of your touches pulled at his heartstrings. You were so gentle, so delicate. A monster like him would only break you. And yet, the detective couldn't stop himself from leaning his head against yours as you continued your rhythmic swaying. Reveling in the warmth your body brought to his cold, aching soul.

If he could, he would rewind time over and over again, just to reexperience this moment. The young man holding you closed his eyes and focused on the way your body fit with his. It was like you were made for him.

He wondered if you could feel just how fast his heart was beating from this position. He wouldn't be surprised. He could feel his own heartbeat in every part of his body. It echoed in his ears and pulsed in the tips of his toes. If only you knew what you did to him.

Akechi wasn't quite sure how long he had been holding you. It felt like it had only been a few minutes, but also a lifetime. He only began to question the amount of time you had been together when you shifted in his arms slightly.

Disappointment filled his veins as he loosened his grip on you, preparing to let you go, only to be surprised when you turned around in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. He felt the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder. The tip of your black mask pressed into his neck. The detective could feel your warm, even breaths fan across his skin as you relaxed into him

He moved his arms around you slightly. His right arm was hooked around your waist and his left arm held your upper back, keeping you pressed against him in a hug of sorts. Akechi had never felt this kind of affection before. He mentally scolded himself for wanting more. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve you.

Sadly, his night had to come to an end. The loud honking of a car caught your attention and you pulled away from him to look at the car that made the sound.

"Ah. That's my ride." Your voice was like a melody to him. He would listen to you speak forever if he could.

The young prince watched as you removed his coat from your body and delicately placed it in his hands. "Thank you so much for the dance Akec- I mean, Prince." You looked away quickly as you caught yourself. A smile crawled onto Akechi's lips as he looked down at you, heart full of an emotion he couldn't quite name. You had known it was him, yet you still danced with him.

"Of course. Until next time, Princess." He spoke as he boldly took a step towards you and kissed the part of your mask that covered your forehead, watching your reaction carefully. The excitement in his body increased as he watched your cheeks flush and a shy smile take over your lips.

"Goodnight." Your voice was so small, it made his stomach squirm.

"Goodnight." He said back as he watched you turn and make your way to your friends, all of who squealed at you for dancing with a boy outside of the ballroom.

Despite the voice in his head barking at him, telling him to never interact with you again, he couldn't stop himself from hoping that you'd let him dance with you like that again.

#goro akechi x reader #goro akechi x fem!reader #goro akechi #oneshot #chiche romance #fluff #dance #prince #princess #halloween #masquerade ball #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #slight spoilers

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

Sneezing Through Time

Summary: When you’re sick, you end up sneezing to random points in time.

Author’s Note: This story was written for the @bnhabookclub‘s weekly prompt posted on their Discord server. The prompt was “I’m fine” and the AU/Scenario was Time Travel. Overall, I had a lot of fun writing this piece; it got my juices flowing. I might participate in more weekly prompt events in the future 😊.

BTW: if something isn’t historically accurate, I’m sorry 😭😭😭. I was going for humor lmao. Guess that B.A. degree in History I received was for nothing.

If you’re a writer (or aspiring writer) and a BNHA fan, please consider applying to join this amazing community. Everyone is so kind and welcoming! You will not regret it.

Also, this is not the sequel to The Point of No Return. That story will hopefully be ready next month so stay tune!

Enjoy!

Toshinori sips on his freshly brewed coffee.

Harvested from the beautiful lands of Chiapas, Mexico, he relishes the thick, rich, smooth taste of dark chocolate. A faint pinch of chili spice follows afterward and gives him the sort kick he needs to start the day. The morning newspaper rustles in his grasp as he reads about the latest world events. Everything is going as it should except…

You’re not at the table yet.

Toshinori glimpses at his watch and frowns. Something isn’t right; he knows you usually take twenty minutes to get ready before rushing to inhale your coffee. Sadly that cup is getting colder by the second while the empty seat sitting across the table mocks him. He raises the newspaper higher to block out the chair only to peek over it when he loses his concentration.

The chair screeches on the hardwood floor. Toshinori folds the paper under his arm and goes to your bedroom to investigate. There’s a trail of white, crumpled tissues coming out from the bathroom. Following the knockoff yellow-brick road, he stops at the doorway and hears a loud blow horn by the window.

“Honey?” Toshinori tiptoes over the random piles of Kleenex as if they are grenades. Sunken eyes deeper than the Pacific Ocean catch his gaze. He feels your forehead with a frown. “You look sickly pale.”

You dismiss his concerns. “I’m fine.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

“Toshi, I’m fine!” A slight cough betrays you despite trying to mask it in your fist. Toshinori’s stern face makes you cringe like a small child who got caught stealing candy from the jar. “That cough means nothing.”

“I’m calling you out of work today.” Like a firm parent, he doesn’t give you a chance to disagree. “And I’m staying home to take care of you.”

Before you could argue, a loud sneeze bursts out, and you disappear. Toshinori rubs his eyes as he taps his foot and counts the seconds in his head. You bounce on the bed wearing a loose peplos that flows down to your feet. A wreath of laurel leaves perfectly sits on your head like a tiara. You toss Toshinori a crown of wild olives.

“Brought you a little souvenir from the Olympic Games.”

He catches it with ease, but is too slow to reach you. An explosive sneeze blows into your used tissue, and you pop like a bubble that was pricked by a sharp needle. Toshinori sighs again. He wastes no time making a quick call to your boss who becomes excited to hear All Might’s voice. Unfortunately, Toshinori’s ear gets attacked by the man’s unintelligible banshee screams.

Pushing through the pain, he manages to snag a sick day for you. Toshinori is not one to abuse his hero privileges, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Hanging up the phone, a sharp swoosh of air blows behind him. He turns around to see you swaying like an intoxicated person who had a few too many drinks at the bar. Perhaps the high-end court party was too generous with their delicious wine.

Still, you feel woozy even if you didn’t drink anything. Any other day you would have appreciated how the gorgeous dark blue Victorian Rococo dress flatters your figure. The fine, golden embroidered floral pattern running along the fabric leaves Toshinori in awe. Who needs to visit the Met when you’re a walking Baroque painting?

However, you feel like absolute roadkill. The enormous hair wig weighs you down like a heavy anchor and disturbs your center of gravity. One small misstep and you’ll fall face-first on the floor. You annoyingly puff at the large, blue feather blocking your eyes.

“We are not doing any ballroom dancing dates for a long time.”

“Sure, honey.” Toshinori holds in his laughter. “Your boss gave you the day off. So why don’t I help you get—“ Another sneeze rudely cuts him off. A tiny feather gently falls to the ground as Toshinori’s head hangs low. Finishing his sentence, he mutters “—back to bed.”

Grabbing the dustpan, he cleans up the scattered tissues and waits for your return. It’s the only thing he could do when you’re sick and sneeze to other periods. The closet doors rattle and you stumble out with a painful groan, looking greener than Midoriya’s hair. Luckily the vomit subsides after doing some breathing exercises.

Toshinori comes to your rescue like the true hero he is. Your head bangs against his chest once the room starts spinning. You muffle, “Leonardo Da Vinci says hi.”

An arm cradles you closer into his warm embrace. He admires the cherry red Italian renaissance dress you’re wearing; it fits you like a glove. Your nose scrunches and you go still. A sneeze dangerously grows inside, tickling for an escape. Before you could unleash the chaos, two fingers pinch your nose close. A staggered breath slips through your gaped mouth.

“Blow,” Toshinori orders when a tissue settles on your nose. Gooey snot destroys the pristine Kleenex and joins the massive snow pile overflowing from the trash bin. He guides you to the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll make you a nice cup of green tea.”

“Thank you, Toshi.”

“Don’t you want to change out of your dress first?”

“No, it’s okay,” you mumble under the covers. The pillows feel nice and soft, like a fluffy cloud or a sheep’s wool. In between yawns, you say, “There’s no…corset under…dress.”

Sleep takes over the moment both eyes close. Toshinori stays behind and sends a quick text message to Principal Nezu about not coming into work today. He brushes the little hair strands sitting along your forehead with a faint smile. You look so peaceful, like a beautiful renaissance angel blessing his soul.

A loud snore disrupts the graceful illusion.

“At least you’re not sneezing,” Toshinori chuckles, fixing the pillows so you’re more comfortable. He shuts the blinds and gently closes the door on his way out. The hot tea, along with a nice, hearty bowl of soup for lunch, will help fight the cold.

Besides, he’s been itching to use the old teacup you “accidentally” brought back from your trip to the Ming-dynasty era.

Thank you for reading!

#toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori x reader #all might x reader #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha imagines #my hero academia #weekly prompt story #time travel #boku no hero academia

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years

Text

His Prophet

BTS

Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]

Genre: God AU, romance, fantasy, protective Taehyung, arranged marriage vibes (kinda), kingdoms and castles, and medieval aspects dotted around, royal au sorta

Words: 9.8k

Warning(s):(Y/n is pushed around in one scene, is that a warning?)

a/n: go ahead and blame the GDA for this (and I was listening to creepypastas during work and one particular story’s ending twist inspired me in a non-spooky way). Also, I’d like to say it took 20 minutes for me to find a photo that wasn’t rejected by my computer to make this godforsaken banner.

summary: The royal Sun God of Navern is a complete recluse; the polar opposite of what one would immediately assume of the God of the Sun should be. Being the only God in his kingdom, he stayed within his castle walls- or at least it is assumed. Staff and servants of the palace only see him occasionally in the halls or peering out into the gardens. It was the dreams of one certain townswoman who worked in a small library that he happens to run into one night that changes everything.

The Kingdom as Navern was a prosperous kingdom, even if smaller in comparison to other neighboring kingdoms. Of it’s few larger cities and small towns, the capital city and home of the Navern Palace was named Vicious. The city was home to all sorts- merchants, blacksmiths, traveling priests and devoted followers of the kingdoms single God; any occupation or profession one would think of, it would probably be found in Vicious.

However, what one thing masses defined as unordinary was a woman who could read and write and who was just as intelligent as a man living in a run-down, two-story library.

The bottom floor of the brick build and metal-framed building was filled with bookshelves upon bookshelves of books of all kinds. Fantasy and children books, adult novels of fiction and non, and documentation of the kingdom’s history. Encyclopedias and thick bricks books of words and information that- if it had the right reader- could suck them in with knowledge.

The top story was closed off from the public. Small living space was where the family of the library lived when the store was closed. A small living room with only two rooms and the kitchen was right off the far wall of the living room, not even a wall to separate the two. It was small, but cozy for the small family of three.

In the past, this small library with two small step stools for high shelves and one small ladder used to belong to an old man and his wife. They had a small child, a little girl when the couple was early into their middle-aged years. As that little girl grew up, her father taught her to read and write and would often raise her as if she were a son. She still wore the suffocating dresses and low heeled shoes of a child as a requirement of her mother. Her father had her help him with broken shelves and squeaky doors, learning a good chunk of labor in her early years.

On the other hand, her mother still pampered her and grew her into a proper young lady. Manners and ideals of a woman and one-day future housewife. Cooking, cleaning, chores, shopping, sewing and all the factors that lead to proper womanhood. Oddly enough, that little girl didn’t mind all the things she was taught.

All her talents in both ladylike behavior and otherwise was an opportunity to learn. And if the girl had anything it was craving for knowledge. She greatly enjoyed reading on the downtime she had and would often recommend books to the boys in her grade school- something she would regret as it lead to years of ridicule. She was simply too smart for a girl.

At the age of 13, this little girl lost her mother to sickness. Catching a cold was all it was, but she just got worse and worse and her father couldn’t keep up with doctor bills. Eventually, the sickness claimed the girl’s mother and it was just her father and her in the apartment and the library. 5 years later, when the girl is 18, she loses her father next.

He had been called to help damper out a raging fire in the Nothern part of the city. Some criminals had started a fire in the small prison to try and mask his escape.

The older man never came back to the library, only a messager did to tell the girl that her father had been killed pursuing the escapee. Leaving the 18-year-old young lady, leaving you, to inherit the library fully.

Things from then got painfully stressful for the better part of half a year. Managing the library and your personal life. Trying to get accustomed to running everything by yourself and not letting the snarky remarks of young men behind your back as you hammered loose bricks back into the outside bricks. Working day in and day out and also having to run errands for families in need for extra money kept you busy and balancing your schedule wore you out.

There were many times you thought about giving up the library, no matter how much you loved it. You came close so many times to that decision, but the memories of you and your family always made you rethink and keep the building in your possession. Many men had come along and tried to buy it from you to wreck it down and rebuild something else where it stood- you always declined.

Years went by and as time passed, things slid into a certain pace of ease and you were finally able to live comfortably. You were 24 years old now. Still managing your library and keeping your home in shape, you also stood as an independent woman. No man or person of romantic interest simply because you had no interest or time for a partner at the moment. Besides, the men in the city, or at least your part of it, had no interest in a woman who threatened to be smarter than him. Bruised egos are a lethal attack to men it seemed.

However, there were a handful of women who respected you a great deal with your knowledge and ability to disregard the judgemental stares and comments from others. It wasn’t just men who sneered, but the women who were a bit too rich in both money and unrealism gave you stink eyes. Sometimes the rich women were even more threatened than the men were even when they couldn’t count anything other than bills.

You were busy restacking the shelves with books that had been returned that morning from mostly children and a few older generations. Your dress wrapped around your torso as you wore your corset, looser than a lady should, and the skirt hitting your ankles. You dusted your hands off with each finished task on the white apron tied around your waist. Small, brown, worn-out flats covering your feet. Working all day with heels just would not suffice. Your hair wrapped around your head in tied upbraids. Uncomfortable, but out of the way.

You were more tired than the day before from the dream you had last night. The dream wasn’t frightful per se, but something about it made you jolt awake. Each time you went back to sleep, the same dream came back and the same dream woke you up. It was hours before dawn when you decided to forget any further sleep and just get up. An early start to the day wouldn’t be so bad. It gave you time to take books off shelves and clean them only to restock them- a task tedious but long overdue.

The dream was one set in your city, the city of Vicious. In fact, in each dream you were outside, just walking around running some sort of errand for the local older woman or fetching medicine for the bedridden old gentleman for a small bit of money. And in each new errand and each new dream, you kept seeing the same people and the same faces you had grown up knowing. However, it’s one person’s stature that always caught you off guard.

The wore a brown, long robe with the hood always flipped up. Masking their face and hiding their body, just walking down the path like every other citizen of Vicious. You would always unconsciously think of them as a traveling beggar from some other town in Navern. It was when the hooded figure moved to seemingly lift their head to look towards you when you always jolted awake. Perhaps it was your brain trying to tell you that you woke up because whatever person that hooded figure was, wasn’t someone you had seen before. Without a proper face to register, you just woke up to avoid it altogether.

You never got a fearful or unsettling feeling in your dreams or afterward, so you didn’t think too much of it. However, it wasn’t just that night you had that dream. It was present the night after and further on. Night after night it was all sorts of different dreams with different errands and different people, but that one cloaked beggar always was present. Still not giving you a feeling of discomfort, but the reoccurrence of this dream made you halfway convince yourself to spend some saved up money on a doctor’s trip.

It’s that night when you contemplate medical aid that you had a dream set in a doctor’s den. Sat in his dinky little office, but instead of a face, the doctor had a long mask on. In fact, the whole doctor wasn’t even human, but a giant, humanoid raven with black feathers and dressed in a tailcoat of the most wealthy bank owner. Waking from that dream with a shiver and a line of sweat down your spine, you might actually consider that one a nightmare.

You decided at nearly midnight to go out and clear your head with a walk. It was a late and dangerous time for a woman to be out, but the idea of sleep made you shiver. Maybe some time to clear your head in the quiet nighttime would help ease you.

Changing from one of your father’s old shirts that you wore to bed every night into your least flattering skirt and small poet’s blouse, you threw a shawl over your shoulders. Not even bothering to tie your hair back. It wouldn’t be a long stroll, just one to breathe in the clean air and take in the silence. When you looked out your window, you smiled as you saw the moon shining brightly overhead- even though it was only halfway through the new moon cycle. It would light your path along with the small patterns set outside homes for those who had late-night workers as part of their family.

Inside Navern Palace dwelled the Sun God of Navern, Luos. Luos was a God who was revered and respected, even as a shut-in God. He ruled and took care of his kingdom from the comfort of his palace walls. Any word he needed to hear of, he’d turn to his Water Mirror, a vase with a wide mouth and filled with water. A few taps of Luos’s fingertips against the water, causing ripples and he could see to the furthest reach of his precious kingdom.

He did love him home. Navern was were he grew up as a human with a different, human name when the kingdom was first birthed. His devoting to his home was what caught another God’s eye- the supreme God of all that was known. When he died as a young man due to his efforts in fighting in a long war, the Ruler God revived him as something far greater than human and giving him the new name of Luos and the insignia of a butterfly. Thought, he never forgot his original name- and he refused to abandon it altogether. It would be like throwing the long memories of his deceased parents away and he absolutely would not do that. His original name stayed solely with him as he lived as Luos.

Luos was not always a shut-in, in fact, he used to be rather outgoing and always spoke and hopped around from town to town among his kingdom. But, many years ago, something changed and all of a sudden he closed his doors for good. He wouldn’t set foot outside palace walls and on some days his palace servants couldn’t even get him to go out into the gardens full of sunflowers he so much loved.

He’d been this way for nearly 20 years now. Only the oldest in Vicious have a vague memory of their royal God walking the streets.

It was never announced as to why Luos locked himself away into his own prison. There had been no wars, no famine. Crime had been on the lower side of the scale and he had no negative reputation with his people that was noted. However, he still made the ironclad decision and his people could do nothing to change his mind.

However, it was nearly two weeks ago that he started to question his seclusion. He had grown quite accustomed to his reclusive past couple of decades, but for the past couple weeks, he’s had this feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. He’d stand at one of his many grand windows just staring over the castle’s main gates to the rooftops of town across the thin, brick bridge that connected the castle to town over the clear watered mote surrounding his palace.

It had been a long time since he had the urge to go out and see his capital again, however recently it had been the hardest urge to suppress in his day to day, reclusive life. The Sun God himself had changed vastly from when he had first started his Godly duties. The thin, childlike innocent he used to hold in his face had matured out into a sculpted jaw and eyes that had seen many things and consumed more knowledge than humans could take in.

“Perhaps I should select a prophet,” was his constant reoccurring thought recently. The thought poured into his head one night when sleep had been actively avoiding him. He had heard in an old wise tale that when one cannot sleep, it is because someone else is dreaming of them. He questioned the truth behind that because he had not set foot outside in so long, no one had the reason to dream of him at all. He was even more confused as to why he suddenly had the compelling idea to suddenly rope in someone to be a chosen prophet.

Even when he thought about the suggestion, he could never think of a face or name that would fit the title. He felt a nagging in his chest and with each possible candidate he could choose to help spread his word and ideals, the nagging would worsen. It was as if his subconsciousness was rejecting each person he knew within the castle- almost pressuring him to go outside the palace. Perhaps he truly should. Perhaps he should go and venture out into his capital and try to see if a single one person could cure this nagging that had begun to irritate him.

So, late at night when the castle was quiet, he dressed in slacks, shirt, and cloak before he left. Walking out of his room and throw the abandoned halls to the back gates of the palace, rounding around the entire castle to avoid as many guards as possible. If he were seen leaving, the guards would most definitely make a fuss about it and the gossip would spread from Navern’s farthest board lined town before dawn. As far as anyone else was concerned, he still hadn’t stepped foot outside the palace perimeter.

The moment his feet hit the loose dirt from across the mote’s bridge, he took a sharp breath. It was like his soul had missed this feeling of his cities roads. He felt at home already, even after all this time. He flipped up his hood, hiding his pitch-black hair and smiled as he stepped onward once more, a joyous hop in his step. The moon named Selene, guiding his way forward. He looked up at her bright surface and smiled a silent thanks for invisible guidance. The moon was always motherly towards him.

Selene says she doesn’t play favorites, but Luos was definitely a favorite- even if she denies it.

Your stroll outside was a quick as you wished it to be. You walked to the wishing well of stone of ice-cold water in the center of Vicious as you sat on the thick stone of it. The sounds of the water calmed you and the area chilled your skin even beneath your shawl enough to raise your skin in gooseflesh. The wind blew slightly in small wisps, making you unattractively breathe in strands of your hair.

Fed up with it, you took the loose tied around your wrist you carried with you everywhere and began to sloppily tie your hair back at the low of your neck. Not very tight, but enough to keep it from entering your mouth and causing you to gag or choke again.

It was very bright out for it being the middle of the night. Part of you regretting now bring a book out with you. You could easily read a chapter or two with the moon’s brightness this night. You half contemplated going back home only to come back to the fountain and do just that when a small gasp sounded behind you.

Jumping to your feet and whipping around, you were met with a cloaked figure with their hood flipped up. You gasped lightly yourself. It was just like your dreams and now you half expected yourself to bolt awake at home in bed. You clenched your eyes shut, expected your mattress to be pushed against your back any moment, but nothing happened. You still breathed the fresh air, still heard the fountain’s water, and still felt the chilly air of the nighttime.

You squinted your eyes open just a sliver, still seeing that cloaked figure across the fountain. You squeezed your eyes closed against and reached under your shawl to your shoulder and pinched your skin. The top trick in the books, if you want to wake up from a dream, pinch yourself.

“Why are you hurting yourself?” You gasped as your eyes shot open. You had been so preoccupied with yourself that you didn’t even hear this cloaked stranger walk over to stand in front of you. Their deep voice had a silky tone to it and it was most definitely a male’s voice. He stood so close to you, nearly toe to toe and yet you still could not see him under his hood. Just like the dreams, his cloaked figure had no fae you could see. However, you’d never heard them speak before, so perhaps this was some sort of lucid dream? “Miss?” He spoke again.

“I, um, I’m trying to wake up,” you dumbly replied. A reply which made his shoulders shift- the only physical thing you could see as a response to your words. You then heard a small, low chuckle from beneath his hood.

“Are you trying to say that you’re sleepwalking?”

“Perhaps, I’ve been known to do remarkable things before,” you unconsciously spoke back in a teasing manner. You then remembered that to most, and almost all, you weren’t supposed to speak to men so highly. You were a woman of independence and held your head high despite your differences of other women, but the lessons of manners from your mother flooded back into your head. You quickly took a step backward, leaning back and away from the stranger and covered your mouth with your fingertips. “I apologize for my tone!”

The stranger quickly lifted his hand to his chest, palm towards you. His cloak opened to show what seemed like black pants and a white shirt beneath it. Boots tucked into his trousers. You partial hoped he wouldn’t raise his hand higher and demand more respect like many, entitled men would without hesitation.

“There is no need to apologize!” He quickly dismissed. He lowered his hand back down, his cloak closing back again at his front. His pushed forward chest straightened back down as he saw you relaxed slowly but surely. “Why are you running about the city so late at night, Miss?”

You bit back the urge to ask him the same thing in return but knew better than to avoid your basic ladylike manners again. You cleared your voice, straightening back up.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping for a while now. I thought that perhaps the night air would help clear my mind.” You didn’t hear the small gasp he took in.

“Trouble… sleeping?” You nodded towards him, brow raised at his curious tone. He cleared his throat. “When did your trouble begin? Perhaps if you talk about it, it would help.” You contemplated his offer. A listening ear of a stranger who offered willingly was far easier and cheaper than visiting a local doctor. You just looked up at him, head tuning in curiosity.

“Are you truly willing to listen to my late-night woes? Me, a stranger.”

The strange man turned around, backing up to the edge of the fountain and took a seat. He just looked up at you with his hidden face and offered you to take a seat beside him. You relented and even though you didn’t know who this man was and you didn’t recognize the voice as anyone you may have met before, you felt oddly calm. You sat next to him before speaking.

“I suppose it started at the beginning of the month’s moon cycle. When the moon was dark and unseen, that’s when it all began. So, a couple of weeks ago.” You fiddled with your fingers, looking at your lap instead of up at his hidden features. You missed the man’s chin drop as he suppressed the urge to push his palm against his mouth in shock. He just remained still and rotated his hand to silently tell you to continue, not trusting his voice. You sighed. “I normally sit and read before trying to sleep again, but the dreams just keep reappearing over and over again.”

“You can read?” He asked inquisitively. It wasn’t said in a disgusted tone, not even condescending. He was genuinely curious.

“I… can. My father taught me when I was young and it would be odd if a librarian lacked the skill to read her own books.” He could tell by the way he put his hands together in his lap and pushed his legs up to his toes and back down that he wanted to know more. “My father’s library in town was passed to me when he passed. My mother had already died so I had to learn to manage it on my own, but that was nearly 5 years ago now. I’ve put it behind me and it isn’t so bad as it seemed at the time.”

“I apologize for your losses,” the strange offered his condolences. “However, I’ve not known many women to read and write efficiently. Are you ridiculed for it?” He asked lightly as if trying to avoid any conversational landmines. He smiled lightly with a small huff and looked down at your hands.

“I am, very often honestly. Truth be told, I seem to provoke men and the wealthy women of the city because of my skills. I’ve tried teaching children, but their parents berate me. I’ve become deaf to their insults now, however.”

“You’re a respectable woman,” the strange told you. The compliment seemed so truthful it sent you into a small recoil. He chuckled as your reaction. “A strong, intelligent woman shouldn’t be deemed unordinary, but revered as a genius. You all weren’t’ just made for family expansion and chores. Or so, I believe.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter. You pushed your hand over your mouth, knowing it was late and if you were to wake anyone, they’d stalk into the city center with a stick or ladle, shooing the noisemaker away. You missed the small smile the stranger hid under his hood.

“I apologize,” you forced between stifled laughs. He shook his head.

“No need, I think your laugh is beautiful.”

You calmed down as you took a breath to regained your breathing. “I’m not sure where you come from, stranger, but you are vastly different from any other man I’ve met.” He was silent for a moment.

“Believe it or not, I’ve lived in Navern for many years. I’m a bit of a recluse and don’t get out much. I work from home, in a sense.”

“Is that right?” You asked, a teasing hint of skepticism.

“I swear to Luos himself,” He said, cringing at his words. You nodded. You both continued to sit and talk for a while longer before the moon had moved drastically in the sky. The stranger was soon standing, taking your hand gently to help you to your feet. His fingers seemed to linger on your skin as he let your hand go. “It’s getting far too late for a lady to be out. I’ll walk you home,” he offered with no room for rejection.

When you both stood outside your home, the stranger looked through the dark windows. The outlines of filled shelves sketching over his vision. Looking up, he saw a window, probably to your room away from your shop. You removed the thick, cooper key from around your neck that was on a rope of leather before slotting it into the door. Turning it to click it open. You turned back to the stranger.

“Thank you for your company tonight. I really did appreciate being able to speak and be myself without being sneered.” Your voice was soft and filled with genuine happiness.

“I can guarantee that your company and conversation pleased me far more than you. It has been far too long since I spoke to someone.” His voice was soft and calm, you could hear the smile on his face. “Next time, let’s talk inside and in the daylight instead of sitting outside in the cold.”

“You would come to visit me, wouldn’t you?” You teased lightly. You were shocked when he nodded immediately. “Well, if that’s the case, could I see your face?” You gently asked, not wanting to pressure him. He was still a stranger, but you felt so calm and easy about him. You just wanted to see him just once- but perhaps he would decline your request. He had his hood up this whole time without movement to lower it.

“I don’t usually show my face outside of my home,” he started and your face started to fall, “however, I think I can make this exception.” Your fae jumped back up as you bit back a smile of victory. He lifted his hands to open his cloak and grip the sides of his hood. Pushing the fabric back, your smile fell into the face of awe.

He was gorgeous. Long, black hair that brushed passed his eyes. His eyes dark but light reflected off them in specs of the most wondrous color. His hair was curled with waves and framed his face well. His jaw is wide and sharp. His voice seemed to fit his face a far better than you couldn’t have ever imagined. He chuckled at your reaction to his face. He put his hands on either side of his neck before dropping them.

“For the first time tonight, it seems you do not have any words left,” he jested.

You just licked your dry lips and hid your face, trying not to let your cheek heat too much. “May I ask one more request?”

“I suppose,” he drawled. You picked at your fingers, nails tapping together.

“May I ask your name if I offer mine back?” You gingerly looked up at him, eyes looking up first before your head lifted in follow. You could see a small jolt of hesitation at your question. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’d recognize you anywhere even without your name.” He took that as a compliment of compelling looks.

He faltered in his step as he moved to take your hand, raising it to push the back of your knuckles to his lips. His eyes closed gently as he kissed your hand, your mouth opening and your cheek flaring in the cold night breeze. He opened his eyes as you noticed that one eye had a monolid while the other was double eye lidded. He smiled widely, the purest and cutest smile you’d ever seen.

“Call me Taehyung,” he cheered lightly. He dropped your hand, as you offered your name back with a small flustered stutter. Y/n was a wonderful name and fit you perfectly. He watched you go inside and even saw your shadow trot up the back staircase to your apartment. He looked at the top window and saw a dim light of a lantern you had just lit before he smiled.

He did feel a bit guilty for not telling you the name he went by now was Luos, but Taehyung was the only name he felt he should give you. His original name was much less intimidating than the Sun God Recluse, Luos. He flipped his hood back up and made quick work of his way back to the castle. Already impatient to see you again and without him really noticing, the nagging in his chest had subsided.

It was two weeks ago when your dream started to subside. That night you spent talking with Taehyung for so long seemed to take your dreams away. You were shocked when he showed up at dusk, knowing at your library door the very next night. He claimed he couldn’t wait to see you again, so here he was. You immediately let him inside without a hassle.

You’ve been talking with Taehyung for two weeks and you greatly enjoyed everything about him. His attitude was uplifting and even when he spoke about topics that angered him, his anger was justice and the points to support his rage were solid. He was knowledgable and well versed in many things. The conversation never died with him.

You were comfortable with him, especially since he always marveled at your abilities. He watched with awe as you caught you repaired a shelf once, and nearly ate enough for four men when you cooked for him the first time. He could read well but preferred hearing you read to him, claiming to love hearing your voice.

It was no mystery how fast you were falling for Taehyung. The romance was something you didn’t think was optional for you, but Taehyung waltzed into your life at night and wasn’t a creepy serial killer. Taehyung had seriously raised your bar of men’s standards and he probably had no idea how you inside turned into mush when he showed up at your home with his giant, wide smile.

Taehyung also always only visited you when night was falling and always cloak. However, it was early in the morning once when he decided he couldn’t wait another long day to see you again. Sneaking out of the castle was harder in the morning, but possible. Still cloaked and hooded, he hid his small smile from the sun’s shadow. His smile wilted when he saw the corner of your library-home come into view.

You had just unlocked the library door and moved to put the hanging ‘open’ sign you had painted and decorated with Taehyung one night to symbolize for people to come and go as they please. He wanted to smile at the idea of you using it, but the young men around your age coming towards you made his teeth grind.

You had just hung your sign on the front window of the door on the small nail you had put on the door a few nights ago when you felt a small shove on your shoulder. Your dress today hit the ground and you nearly toppled over by stepping on the fabric. Your corset of white pushed the dress against your stomach, pushing your chest up, and your torso felt pain as you nearly bent over in the course that was tight.

You regained balance with a small huff as you adjusted your apron on your front. The two men were two fellow rude boys you had grown up with. They had yet to outgrow their childish bullying, and you doubt they were would. You figured they should just marry each other at this point. With rotten, toxic attitudes like theirs, there is no way they’d find wives.

One man, a small sprout of bone was Lix. The other was a bit broader, but no looker for sure; he was named Horan. Lix was more a verbal fighter, not having much strength when it came to fist to fist confrontation. Horan was the opposite. He was dead stupid, but his power balanced out what Lix didn’t have. It was a poetically stupid match made in some twisted heave.

Lix turned to your sign before taking it off the door and looking it over. A small frown on his face as he’s eyes squinted.

“What awful handwriting!” He crowed, even if your handwriting was a perfect script. “I knew it, women should stick to cleaning and looking after little rugrats,” he spits before he threw your sign with a flick to his right. The wooden plack spun as it descended and hit the road with a puff of dirt. You gasped lightly before you ran towards it.

Kneeling in the dirt, you picked it up, the road sticking to your fingertips and filtering under your nails in grounded, small pieces. Dirt would be pushed into your apron and you’re sure you’d have to dust it and wash it all out later. When you looked at the sign in your lap as you knelt on your knees, you recalled how happy Taehyung looked when it as down. Your eyes began to tear.

There was a small murmur of on-lookers who watched the two men push at you. You knew you had no authority to act out, even if you wanted so badly to shout at them. You’d have no ally if you did, no one stood in your corner. You were alone and the fact that everyone watching and gossiping you get pushed around didn’t move to help you, only proved your point.

You could only stamp your feet and curl your fingers around the wooden, painted ‘open’ sign as you held your tears back. Lix started marching up behind you, you could tell from the dainty footsteps he took. Horan’s was much more heavy in terms of his weight. You could feel his presence right behind you, the looming feeling of this man looking down on you. He kicked dirt at your back, debris mixing into your hair and rolling down your dresses back from the collar as you shivered at the sensation.

You felt pathetic as you just let it happen. You could feel him step closer and the shadow you saw from your side showed him reaching out towards you. You expected him to grab your hair and pull you to sit straight. You just shut your eyes in a panic to avoid anyone seeing your unshed tears.

Lix’s nasty grip never came. Instead, a near set of steps rushed from in front of you and came to halt. A shadow of someone blocking the sun from you clouded your shut eyes as you peeked them open. A pair of black boots were in front of your down casted vision. You could vague hear Lix squawking in pain before the new arriver stepped around you and shoved Lix back. You heard his ass his dirt as he whined. Horan was soon stomping to defend his attacked friend, but soon the stomping stopped.

You lifted your head, turning to your back to see who had interfered. You didn’t know of any townsfolk would who defend you. A woman who was so vastly different from others. Your mouth opened to a quivered form as your tears fell. That familiar cloak a blessing to your eyes.

“Taehyung,” you whimpered. You weren’t shocked to see him, you were just relieved to see you had someone to help you. You cried further when you realized you finally had someone in your corner. Taehyung protected you and he had flipped down his hood. His hair was even more beautiful shining off the sun. You wanted to see his eyes in this light- it was probably more breathtaking than seeing them in the candlelight of lanterns.

Horan remained still, frozen mid-charge. Taehyung glared at him and it was blood-chilling enough to freeze the unintelligent giant in his tracks and even silence the gossip of others. Some even moved to remain their work, trying to play coy as if they hadn’t witnessed the assault without assistance. Lix had picked himself off the ground, not sure where to move to, Taehyung eyes burning them into place.

“Make yourself scarce,” was all he seethed. A threat underlined in his words. Lix and Horan were quick to flee. Taehyung’s shoulders slackened as he turned to you, sitting in the dirt and holding the sign in your arms to your chest, hugging it as if it were some precious treasure. His eyebrows dipped, sad to see your tears. He moved to you, kneeling to rub his palm against your wet cheek and push his fingertips into your hair, combing out bits of dirt.

He raised his eyes over you, looking at the people still cocky enough to keep starring. He glared again. “Return to your duties and mind your business!” He yelled, everyone obeying without hesitation and soon all eyes were off you. Taehyung looked softly back at you before he gently picked you off the ground.

Walking you into your store, he took the sign and set it gently on the window sill. He locked the door once you both were inside. He rubbed your arm softly as you palmed at your eyes, trying to dry them. Taehyung moved to stand in front of you, grabbing your cheeks and bending to look into your glasses, red eyes. He rubbed your skin with his thumb, his large hand holding your head.

“Let’s not open up right now,” he whispered so softly to you. You nodded, not able to trust your voice yet. “He gently pushed his lips on your forehead, his brows crunching as he held his lips against your skin for several seconds, feeling pain in his chest from seeing your own pain. H epulled from your forehead before he grabbed your hand. “Let’s go upstairs. You have tea? I’ll make you some” You just nodded again, following him upstairs.

Taehyung spent that day with you. He cleaned your face and wiped your tears. He reassured you and made you speak your frustrations. He took care of you in a way you didn’t think a man ever would. He made you change out of your corset and set your apron in the wash bin to soak the dirt stains out. He brushed your hair out before he sloppily pinned it up. He stayed by you all day and far into the night. When you fell asleep that night, you shocked to wake up the next morning without a single dream to plague you. Even more shocking, you gasped lightly when Taehyung was sleeping in front of you, eyes shut easy and arm under his head as a pillow.

He never left your side. All that previous and all night, he was there. You cupped your mouth as a wae of resh tears spilled over the side of your face. You pushed your face into Taehyung’s neck, startling him awake as he rubbed your back.

“What’s wrong/ Tell me? Did you have a nightmare?” You just shoo your head as you hiccup. “Y/n?” You cried tears of relief and realization as you finally attempted to yourself that you were in love with Taehyung. So very much in love with him.

He left the night of day two he had been with you. He wanted to stay longer, stay forever if he could, but he knew he had to get back to the palace. One day without his appearance wasn’t odd, many assumed he was probably locke din his room. However, any longer and he feared someone would grow nosey.

He left you that night as you flushed at the kiss he pushed on your forehead. He held your hand softly before he flipped his hood up and ran off. You went back upstairs, suddenly exhausted and fell into sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the murmur outside. You rubbed your eyes, going to your window and opening it. There were people whispering with cupped hands as they pointed to your library. You assumed they were still talking about the debacle two days prior with Lix and Horan. It wasn’t until you came downstairs when you saw two people standing with their backs to the front windows of your library.

Unlocking the door and opening it, the two people turned to you. They were both men and dressed in guard uniforms. They were from the palace and part of your blood froze. Why were castle guards standing at your storefront? You swallowed as you greeted them.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greeted trying to remain calm. One stood forward, holding a spear in his arms as the tip pointed high to the sky. He seemed to be the higher rank of the duo.

“Fine morning, Miss. I do not wish to alarm you, but we have immediate orders to escort you into Navern Palace.”

“What?” You choked. You took the time to look around again. You noticed that instead of all judgmental eyes, some gazes were envious or even respectable. They looked at you like you were some higher being or had some power over them. You crunched your brow.

You were ready to talk to the guards when you felt someone run into your back, knocking you forward a step. You turned around and saw Lix, Horan in front of him his arms stretched out. The bigger man had pushed the smaller and the look Lix gave you when he saw it was you he rammed into was one of almost terror. He straightened out as he stood beside Horan, both bowing deeply towards you.

“We’re sorry!” He cried as they ran off like scared children. Your brows flicked up higher. What in the world was that? Were they scared Taehyung would show up again? You momentarily forgot about the guards until one cleared their throat to gain your attention back. The one who spoke to you scolded his underling.

“Do not force her attention by force in such a rude manner!” He shouted as you quickly hushed him.

“No! It’s fine! I’m not offended or anything.” You sighed when the higher-ranked guards only bowed to you and offered his thanks, the younger mirroring his actions. “So, I’m to go to the palace?” You asked, trying to restart the original conversation. The guards stood right up again.

“Yes, Miss. Luos has asked for you.” YOu gasped lightly.

“God Luos asked to see me?!” The guards nodded. Your mouth grew dry as you swallowed to try and find saliva. You licked your dry lips. “I- okay.” You relented. If the God of your kingdom really did request you there, you had to go. You hoped he didn’t mind librarian clothes and a slightly stained apron. You had no time to change and get ready as the guards had begun to usher you off after you locked your library door.

As you walked with the two men, you watched some children smile and wave you. Some women stared in awe at you as if they knew something you didn’t. Men looked at you in caution as if they were committing a crime if you met their gaze. What possibly could’ve happened overnight to get gazes on you in a totally different light?

The moment you crossed the brick bridge across the mote and stood at the giant gates of the palace, you looked in open-mouthed awe. The castle was a gargantuan wonder up close. It took your breath away. The sides of it were as beautiful as the Sun God it housed you were sure. The idea of you probably meeting the God of the Sun, Luos made your stomach turn. He had been silent for so long, what did he suddenly pop back into the public gossip for? And to summon you of all people in Navern?

You were lead to a wide, open, beautiful throne room. The throe at the back of the room at the end of the long, golden rug and up 4 steps of marble was empty. No God was there. You stood walking closer to the throne and taking in the fabric, patterns, and creation of it. Itw as a wonderfully beautiful chair. You gasped with enough force to knock the breath out of you when the heavy, tall doors of the throne room wheezed open again and a voice echoed behind you.

“Would you like to have a seat on my throne?” The voice so scarily familiar and you hesitated to turn around. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you. There was no way. You heard the echoing steps come closer to you as your back remained towards him. Luos was behind you, that you knew for sure- he addressed this throne you stared wide-eyed at as his after all. You felt him stop behind you, his loom presence burning at your back. “Will you not turn to look at me?” His voice was lower, quieter. You gripped your have stained apron as you took one step forward, putting distance between you and he as you then slowly stepped around to face him.

Your eyes were focused at his feet. He walked barefoot. Golden anklets around his skin. His trousers were black as they were rolled at his shins. Following his pant legs up, his white shirt was long and loose on his body. Following it up higher, you saw a golden robe of printed suns adorn his shoulders and you could vaguely see bracelets of gold wrap up his forearms like guards. A thick golden collar of jews around his neck and a crown of golden spikes sat on the crown of his head. Dramatic and much like the rays of the sun.

This was Luos and as you looked into his eyes at his face, you gasped. This was Taehyung.

“I hope the sudden call to my home wasn’t too alarming, Y/n,” he told you softly. He could see the confusion in your eyes, but you weren’t screaming yet so he considered it progress. You just stood there, gaping at him in silence. He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek, making you flinch, but not back away from him. He smiled softly. “Is who I am truly that shocking?”

You didn’t know how to politely say ‘yes it fucking is shocking’, because the man you’ve been visiting with the past two weeks was a God. You gasped, taking another step backward. He rose his brow in confusion as his hand hovered in the air now. You had let the God of Navern into your rackety all home. You gazed at him in starstruck gazes for hours before. You had told him so many personal events and facts about yourself and you began to flush.

Luos, God of Navern’s Sun had picked your pushed and bullies body off the dirt road just two days ago and had stayed at your home with you alone for over 24 hours. Your cheeks grew darker.

You had fallen in love with Luos and you didn’t even know it.

Was that wrong? You started to inwardly panic. Was it against some scared law of Gods for a human woman who was clearly outcasted from her city to fall for a God? Even if it was unknown to you in the time you were falling, would it be punishable by some degree? Was that why he called you here?! Had he seen through your obvious red faces and stuttering and brought you heard to punish you for your feelings that you should or should’ve been feeling?

Taehyung stepped forward, seeing your mind start to flip. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed his lips against your forehead. Just as he had before. He closed his eyes, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t change just because of who he was. He was guilty of hiding the ruth from you, but what choice did he have? He was a shut-in God only a couple of weeks ago, but now he was determined to change it all. And he’d need the help of a prophet for that.

“Calm down, dear,” he soothed. His warm hands pushed against your covered shoulders and you did start to calm. Trying to ignore your warming ears at the endearing name. He felt you slacken after some time and moved to look at you again, stepping just a bit away from you. “Are you alright now?” You nodded. He took his hand and pushed your hair from your face to see you clearly. He smiled at your flushed cheeks. “Red is a color that suits you,” he teased.

You were silent as you looked at your feet. Biting back a ‘shut up’ because in all honesty, how do you talk to him now? Wasn’t it rude to be so direct to a Sun God. A royal God who lived in the royal palace of his own kingdom. You had to watch what you say and say it all respectfully. Taehyugn seemed to know your thoughts as you felt his thumb rub beneath your ear, his hands dipping under your jaw to lift your head up to meet his gaze.

“Do not change yourself because you see me as Luos. My name truly is Taehyung and everything I’ve told you about myself these past weeks is all truthful. I’ve never once lied and I never once will.” He dipped his eyelids, his eyes pleading with you to believe him. “I don’t want to appear different to you now, so don’t treat me any differently.”

You raised your hand to push over his that held your jaw the other staying fisted loosely around your apron. Taehyung smiled at your palm’s warmth. He watched you take a deep breath through your nose before pushing it out of your lips. You looked up at him warily.

“I won’t get punished for being blunt to a God?” You asked carefully. You were blunt, yes; but you were always careful of your words towards him. He smiled.

“Of course not. Why would you be punished if the God you’re speaking to gave you pardon?” You finally smiled a small bit. One that made Taehyung break out into a smile so large he nearly let out a small giggle at you. The way he held your jaw and squished your cheek combined with your small smile, he almost pushed dimples into your cheeks.

You both stood in silence for a while before Taehyung dropped his hands from your jaw and moved to hold your hands in his. Threading his fingers with yours. He was affectionate before, sure. He would often plop his head into your lap as you read to him and of course he slept beside you that one night he decided not to leave your side. However, his laced fingers with your brought warmth to your chest.

“Do you remember when you talked to me about your dreams that first night we met?” You nodded. “You remember when you explained that the hooded figure would always appear and you’d wake up?” You nodded again, not sure where he was going with this. “Well, I think that actually was me.” You lightly breathed in an air of confusion. “Sometimes,” he began, “humans are born with something close to supernatural powers. Some can move objects without physical touch, some can see pasts and futures of people, others can even control the mind of others. Then, there are some like you, who are shown prophetic dreams of things to come.”

“Come to think,” you started with a raising brow, “my dreams did stop after that first night we met. I just thought it was because I finally talked about them. However, you’re saying-”

“I believe you were meant to have those dreams and you were meant to meet me that night. That night I felt like I met someone I was always destined to. Prior to that, I had this nagging in my chest,” he lifted his hand to push against his torso, “and it compelled me to go out into town. It cannot be coincidental that I met you that and the nagging abandoned me.”

Taehyung stopped his talking before he looked over your shoulder. He took your intertwined hands and moved to drag you towards his throne. Helping you to not trip up the marble steps, he soon stood with you at his throne of gold. He held your hands tightly.

“Navern is my precious kingdom I care so much for. I’ve had my time of being reclused and I need to go back into my kingdom and reclaim it with new eyes. I cannot do that on my own. I need someone to help me and to help keep me balanced and straight. They will also help keep my words strong to my people who believe in me and my Sun.” He took a deep breath before he removed on hand from yours and took to his pocket, pulling a scarlet red sash from his trousers that had a hair comb wrapped inside of it.

It was a beautiful piece. A golden frame with solid, silver teeth with gaps made to avoid severe tugging of the hair. You slowly reached out with the hand not held by Taehyung as you ran your fingers over its heavy glory.

“It’s beautiful,” you told him as he smiled.

“I know. It belonged to my mother. A long, long time ago.” You looked up at him with a bit of sadness in your eyes. You knew how he loved his parents, he had told you all about them one night and got a bit more emotional than he’d like to admit recalling so many memories. “I want you to have this now.”

“What?” You breathed.

“Y/n,” he put the comb and it’s scarlet fabric in your open palm before he brought your other hand up to sandwich the comb in your hands. His hands around your own before he lifted them to his forehead. “I want you to help me regain the social regime I have let die. I want you to wake up in this palace day by day with me. I want you to stay here and use this comb as you stay with me as my chosen Prophet.” His voice cracked like he was going to cry admitting it all. “I’ve never-,” he took a breath, “I’ve never been in love before. I died too young so long ago I never experienced it. However, I know now I’m positive that I’m falling in love with you.”

Your breath was sucked out of your lungs like a vacuum because of his words. “Do,” you started small, gaining his attention as he looked at you, lowering your hands back down, still holding them tightly. The comb’s cold material warming in your palms. “Do you really mean all of that?” You squeaked.

He nodded so quickly as he took a step closer. His nose was inches from you as he looked down at you. His feet stood between your shoes as he looked back and forth between your eyes. He truly was a beautiful man. “Yes. I swear, I-I mean everything.” He was so fearful you’d say no to him. What would he do if you left this palace and didn’t take his words with you? Would he still be able to visit you in town at the library? Would you avoid him? Shun him? He was scared of the negatives.

“What would happen to the library?” You asked softly. He knew it was important to you. Rundown and aged, yes, but it’s the place you spent your life with your family before they were gone. Taehyung wouldn’t let anything happen to that small, cramped home of yours. He loved it just as much as you. It’s where he spent so much time with you and learned so much about you. Where he ate with you and comforted you and slept beside you.

Taehyung loved that library.

“I’d keep it safe. I don’t want anything to happen to that library or your apartment you claim. It’s so precious to me now. I’d make sure no one got inside it to vandalize or. Nothing would happen to it and I’d keep it safe from ruin. If something is weak, I’d work to rebuild and fix it.”

“You’d do that for a small library when you have such a grand castle?”

“In a heartbeat. That’s the place I got to spend so many memories with you,” he softly admitted out loud. “You don’t need to agree to my request,” he told you, heartbreak in his voice. He wouldn’t force his wishes on you, no- never would he do that.

You slowly pulled your hands from his, opening your palms to see the golden comb in all it’s beauty again. You then handed it to Taehyung, having him hold it as you unraveled your messy, braided hair. Holding locks of it ver your shoulder, you looked at him and smiled.

“Can such a comb even brush such messy hair?” Taehyung’s face nearly split in two at the smile that erupted into his face. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, lifting you off your feet and toes to hold you so tightly. YOu felt his chest breathe heave, relieved sighs. He set you back down on your feet.

He moved to kiss you again, but not on the forehead. No, this time his lips fell beneath your eye. He kissed you and when he pulled his lips from your skin a small mark had begun to outline onto your skin. Shining with golden light before forming the shape of a butterfly, his insignia animal. He smiled again as he moved to sit you down into his throne.

He then moved to kneel in front of you, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles much like the night he first met you when he left you for the first time. He kissed your knuckles before he smiled up at you with his innocent, childlike smile.

“We’ll have to get you accustomed to the castle, my dear,” he giggled. He began to lead you to a room of seamstress servants to exchange your ordinary librarian clothes with fine, silk robes of the Sun’s golden glow.

The only thing he kept secret from you now, was the fact that not only were you his Prophet, he also may have told the townspeople that if they mess with his fiance and future wife again, he, the God Luos would not be pleased. Of course, you didn’t have to know you were engaged quite yet.

a/n pt.2 - Tell me all what you think! I spent 5 hours writing this in one sitting and I’m pretty proud of it ngl. So lmk!!

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years

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Leading Woman - Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction

Pairing: Meg Giry x Erik/Phantom

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, big scary Phantom (but honestly when isn’t he like this)

Word count: 1790

Requested: @ofserien

A/N: This is my first character x character one-shot in a while so I hope y’all enjoy it. Also I know the GIF is of Phantom and Christine, but lets imagine its Meg for this one! Hope you enjoy this darling! <3 As always, requests are open and comments are very welcome!

Meg being willing to do whatever the Phantom suggests, even though his attention is on Christine. Finally, Meg has had enough and decided to meet the Phantom on his turf. Although he is upset at the disrespect and blatant neglect of his privacy, he is impressed by her lack of fear towards him and her gumption. Meg makes a case for herself, and the Phantom finally sees Meg for who she is, a leading woman.

She had had enough. It had been all I want Christine to sing my new composition and I demand Christine be the lead in the next production and Get rid of the background dancers. They draw attention away from Christine.

She never argued or disagreed because the demands were coming from the Phantom of the Opera, after all. She never questioned his decisions because she thought the world of him.

Everyone else saw him as this frightening being that would strike down anyone who opposed him. They saw him as an ugly creature that loomed like a shadow over the Opera house. Everyone except her.

She saw him as a mysterious man, who despite his rough nature and scars, physical and emotional, only wanted to love and be loved in return. And that’s what saddened her. The fact that he chose to give Christine his love when she was clearly in love with another.

She could tell the minute she saw recognition, followed by something much deeper and more intense, flash across Christine’s face upon seeing the Vicomte de Chagny that Christine loved this man. And every time she saw the two after that, she knew this to be true.

And yet, Christine still followed the Phantom to his lair, obeyed his rules to a T, and called him her ‘Angel of Music.’ And Meg has seen enough to know that Christine continued to allow the Phantom to come up through the tunnels to the mirror in her dressing room and sing to her, although she knew that even if Christine hadn’t wanted him to, he still would because that’s who he was. Christine’s ‘angel of Music’.

But she finally decided that she was done letting her friend have both the attention of the Vicomte de Chagny and the devotion of the man she loved. So for the first time since she had started dancing at the Opera Populaire, she decided she was going to step into the light, no longer as a backup, but as a leading lady.

Despite her wanting to act on this desire immediately, she had to wait until Christine was out of her dressing chambers and know that she wasn’t somewhere in the tunnels with the Phantom. Because if Meg was going to confront the Phantom and tell him how she felt, she didn’t want to do it with an audience or in the shadow of Christine.

She loiters around the door to Christine’s dressing room, pretending she was practicing moves for the next production. After what felt like an eternity, Christine finally padded out of her dressing chamber. Meg waits for a moment longer before slipping into the ornate room. She took a moment to scan the room, her eyes falling on the single rose resting on a small table towards the center of the room. She glides forward, a finger brushing over the black satin bow tied to the stem. A glance to her left reveals a large vase placed in the far corner of the room, filled with roses ordained with the same black bow, in various stages of decay, as if they were placed there as an after-thought.

Meg realizes that these had to be the ‘gifts’ Christine had told her about, the ones that appeared as if by magic in her chambers after each performance. She knew that the roses couldn’t be from Raoul because Christine would have made sure that all the girls knew she had received something from her love.

No, Meg knew these had to be from the Phantom. A surge of white-hot rage flew over her at the thought. Before she knew what she was doing, she had the satin ribbon tied in her hair and, after breaking the stem off, the rose tucked into the top of her corset. On a whim, she moves towards the vase and gently grabs the oldest rose out.

She steps to the front of the large mirror, with the rose held delicately in her hand, taking a moment to collect herself before she pushes against the cold, heavy glass, sliding it open. After moving through the narrow gap, she pulls the mirror back in place.

A soft gasp escapes past her lips as she takes in the expansiveness of the damp tunnel, lit only by a torch on the wall every hundred feet. A shiver passes down her spine as she moves through the dark tunnel, her nerves building.

The soft music trickling down through the tunnels acts as a gentle siren, calling her through the twists and turns, to the Phantom. As she got closer, the music got louder, washing over her like a wave. After twenty paces, in which she thought the music couldn’t get any louder, the tunnel opened up to a large, cavernous room. Candelabras of various sizes bring a soft aurora of light into the room, causing a feeling of warmth to spread within Meg. Seated at the massive organ was the Phantom himself, his black cape spanning out behind him like a pool of thick, black satin. She let out a breath, fascinated by the music being created just as much as the man before her.

“I know you are there, hiding in the shadows, my muse.” Her heart stops, realizing not only that he knew she was there but also, that he thought she was Christine.

She steps out of the shadows at the same time as the Phantom turns around. She watches his look of happiness transform into one of confusion and frustration.

“Ah, little Meg Giry. I knew you’d come traipsing through my tunnels sooner or later.” His tone was condescending and his steps unhurried and confident as he made his way towards her.

She didn’t appreciate his tone and instead of cowering in wait for him to reach her, she strode forwards, abandoning the shadows that had been concealing her features.

“If you knew I would come, you must know why I’m here. After all, you are the Phantom of the Opera.” She comments, holding her head high, when he stops only two steps away from her.

He didn’t reply as his eyes slowly rakeover her body, stopping not once, but twice at the rose in her hand and the bud tucked into her corset. She can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he storms forward, catching a glimpse of the ribbon in her hair. His hands are clenched tightly at his sides and as he comes close enough to her that she can feel his breath on her face, she can see the fire blazing in his dark eyes, a sharp contrast to the soft white mask covering half his face.

Suddenly his hand is reaching up and roughly pulling the ribbon out of her hair and yanking the delicate rose out of her fingers. She lets out a small yelp of surprise as the thorns prick her fingers. She refuses to take a step back, despite the rising fear caused by his actions.

She watches him a moment before she speaks.

“I will not tolerate being in Christine’s shadow any longer. I am skilled enough to have a lead position.” She pauses, moving slowly to place a gentle hand on his unmasked cheek. Her touch is feather light, not wanting him to feel fear with her fingers being so close to his mask. He remains still, as she traces a line from his forehead to his chin.

“You deserve to be loved by someone who loves you back.” She whispers as she withdraws her hand from his face, turning her attention to his eyes. His dark eyes are no longer burning with fury as he looks at her.

“Continue.” His tone was less derogatory now and more interested than it had been.

She does as he orders, “She once called you her Angel of Music and she was right. You are a master composer. What she does not see is beyond that. You are a man of mystery and intrigue. You strike fear into the heart of others, but beneath that callous exterior is a man. A man who deserves to be loved and treasured.” At this point she is a breath away from him and her voice is barely more than a whisper as his mere presence this close to her is enchanting.

“What are you suggesting little Giry?” His voice, no more than a rough whisper, actually sends a shiver down her spine, causing the Phantom to quirk his lips into a small smile, which is gone as soon as it comes.

“I am suggesting that you stop pushing me aside. I can be just as good as Christine if you stopped demanding that she be the star of the show.” She pauses, only briefly, to place a soft hand on his clothed chest. “I am suggesting you teach me as my angel of music. And I am telling you to let me love you. Because I can, quite easily.”

She finishes, her attention now on the soft material of the Phantom’s shirt between her fingers. Silence follows for a long time and she removes her hand from his shirt, ready to step away from him and return to the upper level of the Opera Populaire. A gentle, gloved hand brushes her chin, lifting it up so she is now looking into his eyes.

“Ah little Giry, I’ve been waiting for you to speak your mind. Do you think I never saw the way you pushed yourself to be better than Christine? Or the way you made sure to follow my commands exactly, even when no one else did?” His eyes searched hers, and to her dismay, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

She had thought that her actions, her commitment, had gone unseen and knowing that it had not was overwhelming.

A gloved finger came and gently brushed the tears that had fallen over her lashes, away. “Do you think I never noticed how devoted to me you were? Because little Giry, I did notice and you managed to warm my long dead heart by being so devoted.”

With that, he grasps one of her hands within his much larger one, pulling her along with him to the organ. He slowly guides her to sit on the bench in front of the instrument and, after he seated himself next to her, he turns slightly to look at her.

“We shall begin with the traditional music scale. I want to see the range you can sing in, little Giry.” His words leave her breathless as she realizes that her dream was finally coming true. The Phantom finally saw her for who she was and was helping her become more.

#phantom #phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera imagine #phantom x meg #phantom x meg giry #erik destler #erik x meg #phantom fandom #phantom fanfiction #poto #poto fanfiction #poto fanfic #poto meg x erik

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limewrites-archive · 4 years

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Disguise | Bruno Bucciarati x Leone Abbacchio ( Bruabba )

Warnings: mild NSFW (light smut)

Word count: 1,742

(Also on a03! )

Masquerades, so wondrous, graceful and bewitching. Leone Abbacchio was a hired assassin, to kill one of the last vampire nobles in all of the continent. Bruno Bucciarati was at times merciless when it came to hunting down his prey. The public eye had no idea such creatures exist, though of course there were always the skeptics and believers. His parties or masquerades if you will, were grand and had a very high guest count. Abbacchio knew that there were plenty of humans that would be going but his job was to find out who and where the vampire was going to kill and to end him.

The first order of Leone's business was to sneak into the ballroom. It was easy enough, but the moment he was able to walk freely in plain sight, he was asked to dance by many women. Of course, to not be suspicious, he danced with a few here and there. He knew the moment he saw the masked man, his dark hair was what gave Bruno Bucciarati away; he distinct bob cut and the piercing blue eyes of his. Abbacchio wore an all-black outfit with a white mask as well as a large hat to hide his lavender hair to its best. The more he danced with the fine women that attended, the more whispers from them afterward spread across the room. 'Who is he?' 'Why is he so mysterious?' 'My god- the way his eyes looked into mine for the moment..' Sure, most was gossip and women were swooning for someone that hadn't even seen their face or had a long conversation with. He wasn't as nearly as wealthy as the women here, but he sure dressed like it. Bruno from across the room was viewing the man that had such an exquisite body. A healthy, strong body that he could sink his teeth into and drain of all life. His mind wandered to how he would get the tall glass of blood into his chambers or how to get him into the garden where he could easily bury his body. The women on his side pouted, realizing that their man of interest wasn't paying any attention to them. They pushed up their corsets, raising their breasts to give Bruno a better view, some touching his arms and thighs, rubbing gently to get any reaction out of him. These ladies were all competing with each other, their fathers or uncles wanted them to marry a man of high class and wealth, they wanted to see who he would choose to be his bride. With the time of life, it's 1842. Bruno had been alive for much more than that, but this day and age, he had to tell lies to everyone. He wasn't interested in women but a man interested in a man was frowned upon. Though he had to woo women, to not be suspected as anything less of the man he was.

Time glided by, Abbacchio was fully aware of the time slipping, the possible window to eliminate Bruno Bucciarati was closing. He didn't have to watch Bruno as much as he thought he would if he had to. The group of girls fanning themselves stuck to his side to where Bruno was just sitting on a chair all night. One of the more grand waltzes played, and he was asked to dance by his most wealthy following women. He nodded, taking her hand as she scuttled in her tiny shoes onto the marble dance floor. There had been a girl that was dancing with Abbacchio the most, resting her head on his shoulder as the two gently swayed. Out of courtesy, Abbacchio asked if she could do the honor of gracing him with her name, but she refused and didn't care for his name either. As the waltz sped up to a new one, she lifted her head and partners were switching around. This continued, and eventually, the assassin got his next partner. The creature he was out to kill. They danced, but as they were going to switch again, Bruno was set on staying with Abbacchio. Now was the time for both of them to strike. Bruno spoke first, "Enjoying the party? Such a shame you had to spend it with all of the boring women. I must say, Lady Cordelia, is one of the few women I can tolerate. She seemed quite fond of you. She's not one for dancing long or with one dancing partner for so long. What did you think of her?" Abbacchio didn't say much, just sighed. "Cordelia, huh? She didn't give me the honor of knowing her name." Bruno chuckled, "Oh, of course, she didn't. she wanted to see if you would follow her tonight, to see if you were unlike the other noblemen that only go after her looks. She is different the most. She has a brain. A pity, that you couldn't have the chance to eat the food my servants prepared, or to take a look at my prize-winning rose bushes in the garden." Bruno had a half black, half white mask with almost angelic wings on the side, his black and white outfit did have lots of feathers on the shoulder pads. 'Not like he needs all of this...food...roses.. it all dies and rots, he outlives them...'

There was a small smirk that initiated a small laugh, "You know, you may be wondering why on earth I have such things, but I assure you it's well worth a spare moment of your time tonight. Come, get some fresh air." The two exited the ballroom, down to a corridor that Bruno swore wasn't far from the garden. Bruno could hear any new thoughts that Abbacchio had. With the comment Bruno had made, Leone was wary of what he was thinking. The vampire's plan already started. Luring this healthy, young, handsome nobleman into the secluded corridor using a power of his to see how he would kill this man walking behind him.

Bruno's power was to release pheromones, heightening his preys sex drive. Some would call it witchcraft, seducing who he wanted by just releasing just the slightest scent from his body. Vampires have to get willing food somehow, right? Though, it only heightens what's already there. He bit his lip, he wanted to have a bit more fun with this prey more than usual. Leone couldn't see anything, Bruno reassured it was close, apologizing for the long walk across his mansion. At last, he turned, smiled and opened a door for Leone. "A stop through the green room where my fresh tea leaves are from if you don't mind." Leone nodded, following and acting as oblivious as he could in his own mind. His eyes ventured to Bruno's, there was something about his figure that was just right, but he entered through the door. The room was completely dark, and he knew it wasn't the green room as promised. His heart was racing, and Bruno pounced on his 'weak' prey. Bruno couldn't take it anymore, he pushed Leone down on the bed, fast to straddle him and have a strong grip on him. "Sir, I know I'm being forward, but please...let me take off your mask." Abbacchio felt his worries fade, and his pants became tighter. There was no way he would let this happen, but he wanted to melt under Bruno's touch. He shouldn't, but he still granted Bruno permission, and he took off his mask and hat. Bruno did the same, revealing his hungry expression. The smaller, but stronger male leaned to Leone's ear, nibbling gently before whispering. "I know this is taboo, but I thought you looked to be the type of man to be fond of other men. I watched the way Cordelia tried to get your attention, but you only looked out, completely uninterested in her and her figure. I could feel your eyes scan my body, oh how perfect this is." With Bruno being on top, he ground gently against the noticeable bulge in the male's pants." Abbacchio shuddered, his body was wanting, but his mind kept screaming no. Bruno was gentle, despite his hold on Leone, kissing his neck in the best spots, even blessing him with a short make-out session, both hungry. Abbacchio completely forgot what he was supposed to do, until he felt his skin break and teeth sink into him. Abbacchio panicked, and tried sitting up, but couldn't move. "Oh no, love. You're not going anywhere." Bruno sunk his teeth into Abbacchio once more, sucking the blood, draining him.

It was all blurry, the pain and pleasure caused by the vampire he was set out to kill. He enjoyed it, and his senses were not returning. At least not any time soon. When he woke, he was astonished to not be dead. He was in the same bedroom as he was led into. The sunshine peeking in from the curtains, the masquerade was over. He stood, rushing to the curtain and opening them viciously. Bruno hadn't entirely lied, there was the rose garden, and Bruno watering his white roses. He held a large umbrella, black and white clothing similar to last night, but small spectacles that were very dark. His skin was a greyish pale, unlike his own fleshy pale complexion. The large window was tall, larger than Leone from head to toe. Bruno sensed his gaze and met his eyes with Leone. Leone looked around, this couldn't possibly be real, and it wasn't until then, he realized his human body was completely exposed, and he retreated back to the bed. He looked around for any sign of anything, and on the dresser, there was a sealed letter, next to a neatly folded pile of clothes. He opened it, and read the page. 'Let's keep this between us. I'd enjoy it if you'd come to visit me, Leone Abbacchio. I know you were sent to kill me, but it seems that you couldn't bring yourself to do it. The way your body took control last night, you enjoyed me, too much.' All in the moment blur now came back to him vividly, and his face reddened. 'You could stay with me too, for all eternity. The choice is yours, Leone.' It was signed with elegant penmanship. Leone set the paper down on the bed, thinking. He would have to think a long time before making a choice.

il finale.

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acedesigns · 4 years

Text

A Beautiful Swordsman [FF7: Cloud/Reader]

A/N: I hope I did a decent job with this. My relationship with gender is complex, so I hope I didn’t cause any dysphoria with describing Cloud wearing a dress. Anyways, I headcanon Andrea as being gray-pansexual. So I kinda went with that.

And if you’re wondering what the hell is wrong with you, you have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Welcome to my life.

Word Count: 2058

When you stood up everything cracked. It started at your ankles, somehow your shins, your knees, and hips. Of course, you couldn’t forget about the discs in your back popping. You rolled your eyes and moved forward, everything still clicking. At least nothing was dislocated this time.

“He’s here again!” you heard one of the honeybees whisper to another woman. You cringed, knowing it was Palmer. He had a habit of wanting to run around with a net to try and catch a honeybee. Luckily, all of the women had some training in self-defense and could easily outrun that creep.

“Oh! [Y/N]!” One of the ladies turned around when she heard you and shot you a soft smile. “Andrea wanted to see you!”

You frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“I think so, he didn’t really say.”

Sighing, you thanked the honeybee and walked off towards the back of the stage where Andrea typically kept rehearsing for different shows. Despite his flawless performances, he continued to push himself to perform bigger and riskier shows.

“Andrea?” you called out and noticed the man was stretching his legs.

He glanced over and smirked. “[Y/N], darling! There you are! How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Is your shoulder doing better?”

“Yeah, I popped it back in. It’s not a big deal,” you shrugged it off. There was some inflammation, but it’d be gone tomorrow. It was a minor dislocation, after all.

Andrea sighed and shook his head. “Well, come now. I want you to come to the colosseum with me. I heard that there are a cute rookie mercenary and a beautiful young lady entering the fight.”

He walked past you and led you down the winding roads of Wall Market. It took you a while to get used to how many alleyways there were and which paths to take. Knowing which streets were dangerous also took a while. Luckily, people were almost everywhere but the alleyways that you had to squeeze into. It was really only those alleyways that were too terribly dangerous.

“Wait, is that?” a man questioned as he gawked at both you and Andrea. “Hey!” he shouted after you. “Why don’t you split your legs for me?”

You glanced at Andrea who ignored the man. Taking his lead, you also brushed off the crude catcaller. The people of Wall Market knew you as the very flexible dancer that could be in almost any position. Of course, if any of the other dancers tried to move the way you did, they’d end up severely injured.

Your hand rubbed into the knotting muscle of your opposing shoulder. You did sometimes end up injured with how hypermobile your joints were. And the more you hyperextended everything, the more everything hurt. But it made you one of the most requested dancers by both men and women that you had a waitlist almost as long as Andrea’s. And being the most requested dancers amounted to having a lot of money.

“So are you more interested in him or her?” you questioned and glanced at Andrea who chuckled lightly.

“It all depends, darling,” he mused. “Perhaps both.” You let out an undignified snort. Though, if anyone could court two people at the same time, Andrea could do it. But it was still rare that he ever took interest in someone, perhaps once every couple of years. Two people at once was a shock.

Once the two of you entered the colosseum, you skipped the lines and went into the reserved box for the trio. A few other bees were already there and pampered Andrea with attention once he took his seat. You stood behind Andrea’s chair and zoned out. These fights weren’t your favorite. Andrea knew that. But he also knew that if he didn’t take you here, you’d most likely further aggravate your injury at the Inn.

“[Y/N]?” Hello?” You blinked when Andrea was leaning down to your eye level with that ever-present smirk. “It’s time to go now, darling.”

“Oh, r-right. Sorry.” He waved off your apology and strolled out of the box. His long legs carried him towards the in with you close behind.

“Yo! Hot stuff!” a man called. A vice grip squeezed on your arm and yanked you back. A pop sounded from your arm. “What the hell?!

You clenched your jaw at the burning sensation in your shoulder and fought a scream in the back of your throat. Andrea swung around at the sound of the man screaming and saw the disfigured appearance of your arm with the man’s hand still holding onto you.

“Hey!” another voice sounded from behind you and the attacker was yanked away. With your arm now free, you let your hand hold onto your dislocated arm. You glanced behind you and saw a blond swordsman push your assailant to the ground. His eyes, that had a strange glow to them, met yours. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, not trusting yourself to actually say anything.

“Thank you,” Andrea stepped in. “You’re Cloud, aren’t you? If you have time, please, stop by Honeybee Inn. We’ll be expecting you.” Andrea turned towards you with a frown. “You are not dancing tonight, my dear. Let’s go get you fixed up.”

You simply hung your head in shame and followed him back. All the while, you worked on shoving your arm back in. It was a bad dislocation that would be inflamed for about a week if you were lucky. Once you were at the entrance, you finally managed to pop it back in.

“Shit!” you let out at the sudden pain. A tear fell from your eyes and your breathing quickened.

Andrea stopped and turned towards you. With a sigh, you pulled you close to hide you from prying eyes. “Just try to relax,” he soothed, knowing that the pain was starting to make you panic. “We’ll get you some ice.” He nodded his head to one of the men in the entourage who ran inside to grab the said ice. After a moment, he led you inside and took you backstage to rest.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a hiss when you rested the back of ice on your shoulder.

“Don’t be, that man had no right to touch you without your consent,” Andrea huffed. “If I had intervened, I could guarantee you he wouldn’t be getting up again.” You laughed lightly at the thought, knowing it was true.

“Thanks, Andrea.”

“Of course, no one disrespects my dancers,” he said with sincerity.

You smiled up at the man. “What are you going to do about the show since I’m out?”

A mischievous spark flashed across his eyes and he snapped his fingers. “I think I have just the idea! I heard the fighters were trying to get into Corneo’s audition. Madam M is taking care of the girl. But I think I can get Cloud in as well.”

You raised an eyebrow. “They are actually willing to go into the audition? Are they crazy?”

“Not crazy. They’re trying to save their friend. Now! Since you’re not dancing, I need you to pick out a dress that would suit your hero, Cloud. I want to be surprised, so try to wow me.” With that, Andrea sauntered out of the dressing room to prepare for the show that evening.

With a sigh, you stood from the stool you were sitting on and moved towards the bag you brought to and from work. In it, was a series of braces and slings you had just in case something happened. With a grunt, you managed to fit your injured arm into the sling and slip the back of ice underneath the strap to keep it in place.

“Now, what dress would suit him?” you pondered and moved towards where all of the costumes were stored. His physique was smaller than Jules, so you couldn’t use any of Jules’s dresses. You’d probably have to go with one of the dresses that Andrea or one of the Honeybee men wore in the shows. But if you wanted Andrea to be surprised, it’d have to be one he hasn’t seen or worn before.

Your fingers swept through the fabric, looking for something that felt soft. Andrea was also always wowed by anything that shimmered under the light. It made the dancers look all that much more special. Your fingers paused on a dress and you pulled it out to examine it.

“Hmm,” you hummed at a blue and black dress. The top was a corset, that could make Cloud look like he had more traditionally feminine features. It had sheer sleeves that would show off his muscles, but Corneo did have a fetish for that. With a nod of approval, you went to grab some hair-extensions, a bow, and a necklace. The dress was long enough to hide his shoes. You weren’t sure if he’s ever walked in heals before and didn’t want this to be his first time.

You stood behind the stage and watched with mild amusement as the swordsman tried to leave. But once the men dragged him back, he sighed with reluctance. Andrea went easy on him and went with a famous dance, so Cloud should know the moves to it if he wasn’t leaving under a rock his whole life. You grinned as he was actually doing a decent job at hitting the moves at the right time. The crowd was going wild for him, too.

Andrea turned around towards Cloud and made a heart with his hands. “Honey, I’m in love!”

You chuckled to yourself and quietly murmured, “You’ve got some competition right here, Andrea.”

Then, it was the fun part. You handed off the dress and sat back as the honeybees did their work to make Cloud look fabulous. The women held out feathered fans to shield the audience of Cloud before twirling away to reveal how beautiful he truly looked.

Andrea looked at Cloud and glanced back towards where you were standing. He gave a nod of approval before twirling Cloud around to try and relax the swordsman’s nerves. Flares burst from the stage and the audience roared with approval. After a long, standing ovation, they all started to fill out of the theater and back towards the streets of the Wall Market.

“You were truly amazing out there, Cloud!” Andrea exclaimed. “You should consider joining our team when all of this is said and done.”

You quickly walked over towards the pair and examined the hairpieces and makeup for any imperfections. “I hope you like the dress!” you started and fixed a stray hair of his. He flinched back but allowed you to fix it. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed and looked away with embarrassment.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed towards one another in frustration. “I have to dress like this just to get into Corneo’s!”

“You look great!” Andrea reassured. “Besides, a dress is just a dress. Gender should not be assigned to clothes. Breakthrough those barriers, Cloud.”

“He’s right, but you should also dress how you feel comfortable. If you want, I can take you back and you can look and see if anything else would suit you better.”

“No, I just want to get this done and over with,” Cloud grumbled.

Andrea nodded. “I’ll take care of your weapons and clothes. We should also have Aerith’s and Tifa’s.” He looked over towards you. “I’m going to go and make a phone call.”

You nodded, knowing he was going to call Leslie. Looking back at Cloud, you gave him an encouraging smile. “Well, I guess you should get going. Kick Corneo’s ass for me, will ya? And as a thank you for that, and for helping me earlier, feel free to contact me whenever you need something. I’m pretty good at getting things that are in a weird place. Or if you just need someone to talk to.”

Cloud stared at you for a moment in shock. He looked away with what you could have sworn was a blush. “Right.” He turned around and began to awkwardly walk, trying to not step on the dress’s fabric. However, after a few feet, he turned back around to face you. “I think I might just take you up on that.”

With a sly grin, you waved off the beautiful swordsman.

#Final Fantasy 7 #Final Fantasy VII #Final Fantasy 7 Remake #Remake #FF7 #FFVII #Honeybee Inn #Cloud #Cloud Strife #Andrea #Gender #Fanfiction #Fan Fiction #FanFic #Fan Fic #Oneshot #one Shot #X Reader #Reader Insert

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angelicthor · 5 years

Text

billion dollar man - part 11

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship, slightly nat-centric chapter, FLUFF

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

a/n: this is the last of the reuploads! the next chapter is gonna be brand spanking new (and its super long oops), as always please let me know what you think!

Staying up with Tony in his lab become routine for you after that night, whether it be going down with him knowing he couldn’t sleep or waking up to an empty bed and seeking him out, Tony’s lab soon became a familiar place to you. Sometimes Tony would work and talk to you as he did and others you simply went down there to sleep, curling up with a blanket on an empty workbench wanting him to know that he wasn’t alone, and you were happy to see that little by little Tony was indeed joining you to sleep more and more.

He still didn’t sleep enough but it was a start and one you would happily take.

Nat’s birthday was fast approaching, and you had helped everywhere you could with the planning, the moulin rouge themed party bigger than anything you had ever seen before in your life. Nat sure as hell had gone the full mile for this and nearly everything was ready, the both of you were shopping for your outfits today but there was one thing you had yet to do: get her a birthday present.

I mean, what do you buy for someone who has everything?

You had racked your brain for days and the closer her birthday got the more you began to panic. You were meeting up with Nat later and you wanted to have some sort of idea before you did so you could drop some subtle hints and test for a reaction before you actually bought anything.

The paper with ‘Nat’s present ideas’ scribbled at the top was void of any other writing – the same as it had been for the past 5 days – and with a huff you jumped from the couch, dropping the pen you were twiddling in your hands as you went off in search of Tony.

Tony was sitting in his office, eyes mulling over the papers in front of him when you sat yourself on his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzled into his neck. Although his eyes never left the papers on the desk, a ghost of a smile played at his lips at the feeling of you pressed tightly against him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting Nat soon?” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss against your forehead as his hand gripped your waist keeping you close to him.

“I am but I have a problem.”

Tony’s eyes snapped up to yours, worry filling them instantly at your words as his gaze washed over you, searching for any signs of injury or distress. Unable to find any, Tony quirked a brow at you, leaning back in his chair as he gave you his full attention, “What’s wrong?”

“I have zero ideas on what to get Nat for her birthday and I don’t have long left! What if I can’t find anything in time and then I’m the only one that hasn’t got her anything and then I’ve hurt her-”

“Wait, wait; that’s what’s bothering you?” Tony asked you incredulously, staring at you with a slack jaw before he started to chuckle at your expense, “Y/N, baby, you don’t have to worry about that. Presents aren’t really a thing in this world, presents are pre-bought and delivered to parties by the host. It’s a little redundant to ask people to get you stuff when you already know exactly what you want and can afford it easily, this way there’s no disappointment or drama of ‘oh they never bought me anything’, you know?”

“Wait so no one gets anyone any presents? Ever? That seems really… cold. I mean, for me, presents were never about how much money someone spent or if it was something I really wanted, the best presents were those personal things that only that person could have thought to have got you. You know, the inside jokes and the special memories that only you have together.”

Tony watched you with a fond expression as your teeth worried at your bottom lip, troubled that gift giving simply wasn’t a custom here, one side of his mouth curling in an adoring smirk. “You’re something else, you know that?” He murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, finger grazing your cheek before he gently pulled you into a sweet kiss, “Don’t worry about Nat beautiful, she’s just happy to have you as a friend, trust me there’s not much out there that she doesn’t already own anyway.”

The sound of your ringtone cut through the room, Tony pressing one final lingering kiss to your lips before he let you go, watching as you pulled the phone from your pocket and saw the photo of you and Nat lighting up the screen. You smiled at the picture before you swiped to answer it, leaving Tony’s office as you headed to fetch your jacket, the phone pressed to your ear as you listened to Nat eagerly tell you how excited she was.

“Anyway, I’m sitting outside waiting for you to make an appearance so hurry the fuck up!” Nat cut the phone off without so much as letting you say ‘bye’ and you could only chuckle at her impatience.

You stared at the photo of the two of you once more before it faded from the screen, the cogs in your brain starting to slowly turn as an idea began to form for her present. Clicking on your photos you scrolled through the many pictures you had stored there of you, Nat, and the rest of the gang – the silly selfies and off-guard shots brought a smile to your face and you remember the look Nat had when she saw your first photo together, the naturalness of it was something she was unfamiliar with, telling you that the only real photos she had where from professional photographers or paparazzi and she had practically begged you to send it to her.

That’s when it hit you like a tonne of bricks, the perfect present for Nat; a photo album filled with personal photos of her and Sam and her friends. Grinning to yourself, you pocketed the phone and dashed out the front door to meet with Nat, practically flinging yourself into her car as she laughed at your enthusiasm.

“Wow Y/N, keep this up and people might thing you actually missed me,” Nat teased as the car pulled off towards the designer stores Nat had requested you go to.

Given that Nat was throwing a Moulin Rouge themed party, it was no surprise she was requesting that people dress appropriately and when Natasha Romanoff requested something only a fool would say no. She had asked you to come shopping with her for her outfit, wanting your opinion before she purchased something and giving you the opportunity to get yours as well.

Entering the store, you were blown away by the various outfits on display; beautiful corsets embedded with diamonds on mannequins in the window whilst luxurious feather fans and headdresses lined the shelves. One thing you did notice however, was that the store was near empty, the only other people in it bar you and Nat seemed to work there but before you could question it, one of the women were approaching you with a wide grin.

“Miss Romanoff! We’re so glad to see you; per your request this is completely private so feel free to browse at your leisure and myself and Mary-Anne are here to help you with anything you need,” The woman - who’s name tag read Julianne - informed you, holding her arms out wide to gesture to the empty store.

You arched a brow at Nat in disbelief and she only gave you a sly smirk in response before dragging you over to look through everything in the store. Mary-Anne brought you both a glass of champagne as you surveyed everything in the store, Nat holding things against her body for some idea of how it would look, adding the one’s she liked to her every growing pile to try on later.

Nat also forced you to pick out the ones you liked, adding them to your own pile but you were far more reluctant than her, the idea of wearing something so form-fitting and revealing in front of so many people making you apprehensive.

Heading to the back where the changing rooms were you both tried outfits on for the other, leaving your favourites until last of course, and giving each other opinions on what looked good and what you could pair it with.

Whilst you changed into your final outfits, you called out to Nat through the wall of the dressing room; “Hey Nat, once we’re done here do you want to get a massage? My back is killing me.”

“Yeah of course, what did you do?”

Unable to think of an excuse you tried to brush of Nat’s concern, but you should have known by now that it wouldn’t have been that easy, “Oh, it’s nothing, just a little stiff is all.”

“Y/N.”

You could hear the warning tone in Nat’s voice as you finished adjusting your corset, cringing before you slowly opened the door and saw her standing there with her arms crossed and brow raised like a disappointed mother.

Glancing behind you at Julianne and Mary-Anne you made sure they were occupied and not eavesdropping, grabbing Nat’s arm and moving her further away from the two just to be safe before you told her the truth.

“It’s just, Tony’s being doing really well with therapy and he is sleeping more but he still spends a lot of time in the lab, so I started going down there with him; sometimes I can stay awake but sometimes I sleep on one of the work benches down there and it’s not exactly been great for my back.”

Nat’s expression morphed into one of concern, moving closer to reassuringly grip your forearms, “Why are you sleeping in the lab, why are you even down there to begin with when Tony has a perfectly good mattress to sleep on upstairs? Is he making you do this because I-”

“No! Nat, god no he doesn’t ask me to do it it’s just – I just don’t want him to feel alone you know? I think that’s always been part of the problem for him,” You mused, Nat nodding her head slowly in understanding, “Please don’t tell Tony Nat, he’ll only feel guilty and it’s not his fault I promise, besides it’s nothing a little massage therapy won’t fix.”

“Hey, you never have to worry about me telling anybody anything ok? You’re my best friend, your trust means everything to me, I’ll take it to the grave I promise but I do have one question; are you sure that what you feel for Tony is just ‘friendship’ or whatever bullshit you said this arrangement is?”

You froze at Nat’s question; you knew that you were worried about Tony, who wouldn’t be? And you’d do anything to help him. But you’d do the same for any of your friends. Wouldn’t you?

You did have to admit that whatever lines you did have were beginning to become blurred but whether it was extending past platonic at this point you couldn’t decipher and you knew it was dangerous territory to try to at this point.

Swallowing against the dryness in your throat, you shook your head of the dazed feeling that had come over you, giving Nat a soft smile in reassurance. “We’re just friends Nat, I promise.”

Nat hesitated for a moment and you panicked thinking she was going to question you more but to your relief she simply grinned and took your hand in hers, leading you to the huge mirror so you could appreciate what you and she were wearing.

“Wow, you look good,” You complimented, eyes wandering over her very eye-catching outfit. Nat’s outfit consisted of a corseted bodysuit and was completely embellished in tiny silver diamonds with black diamond detailing that caught every ounce of light, making her shimmer with every slight movement. The outfit was finished off with fishnet tights that had diamonds sown into them and black silk gloves that ended at her wrists, a black top hat with a diamond completed the ensemble and if you didn’t know any better you would think she was off to perform any second now.

Nat could sure as hell rock this look that was for sure.

“Correction; WE look fucking amazing,” Nat said with a pointed look, linking her arm through yours as you smiled at her reflection.

You did have to admit that you liked what you saw, the idea of wearing to Nat’s birthday party seemed less daunting then it did half an hour ago and you sure as hell couldn’t wait for a certain billionaire philanthropist to see you in it.

Unlike Nat’s outfit, yours came in two separate pieces, a blush pink satin corset and a matching pair of panties, the corset had minor diamond detailing on it - compared to Nat’s which was covered completely in them - but it did have a diamond fringe that followed the along the bottom of the corset, creating a V shape on your front and behind. There was a diamond embellished garter strap that came down from the corset and attached to the matching pink hold-ups you were wearing. Your white silk gloves reached your elbow and you had a white and pink feather piece clipped into your hair.

You both admired each other in the mirror some more before your eyes met Nat’s in the reflection, smiling at her as you linked your hands together, “You’re my best friend too ya know, well, you and Wanda.”

Much to your surprise Nat pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and you froze at the unexpected gesture before you melted into her touch, wrapping your arms firmly around her as you returned the embrace.

The two of you were pulled apart when Julianne asked if everything was ok or if there was anything else that you needed.

“Everything’s great: we’re definitely gonna be taking these.” Nat answered, the both of you heading back into the dressing rooms to quickly change back into your clothes.

Nat finished everything with the order and even paid for your outfit even though you told her not to and Mary-Anne arranged the delivery to be sent to Tony’s apartment given that you would be getting ready there. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t just take the one you had tried on home, but Nat explained that they were only for show, not for sale, the ones you both would be wearing would be made to order and delivered to you.

After a successful day of shopping together, you went out for lunch at Nat’s favourite bistro chatting more about her upcoming party and what she had planned, both of you laughing over the boys’ latest shenanigans before she asked you if she could meet Wanda. The request took you by surprise but what shocked you more was the fact that the Natasha Romanoff looked nervous, your wide eyes and slack jaw morphed into a warm smile as you reached across the table and took her hand in yours, telling her that you’d love for her to get to know Wanda at which a relieved smile played at her lips.

The conversation soon returned to the usual and you and Nat headed off to get massages, having the kinks and knots in your back worked out felt heavenly and the day you two had spent together had put you in amazing spirits so much so that as soon as Nat had dropped you back off at Tony’s you had headed back out to gather everything you needed to make Nat’s birthday present.

And that’s how Tony found you, sitting on the floor of his living room, an open scrap book in front of you and a stack of photos to your left, scissors, glitter, glue, and stickers surrounding you as you decorated the pages surrounding the photos you had glued to the center.

Tony simply allowed himself to watch you unnoticed for a minute longer, allowing himself to take in the enthusiasm you crafted the book together with, the sparkle in your eyes and pleased grin on your lips causing him to smile too, your happiness far too contagious to be ignored.

He couldn’t quite place what it was about you that made you so damn special; your kind heart, your selflessness, your loyalty and dedication, the fact that you could – not matter the situation – get him to laugh, the way you had taken every single one of his problems in your stride, he honestly didn’t know. Tony was beginning to suspect that he would never understand how anyone could be so astounding without even realising but as he watched you carefully add glitter to the page you were working on, tongue poking slightly out as you concentrated on your design, he knew that he had never made a greater choice then when he chose you.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

#tony stark x reader #tony x reader #tony stark x you #tony x you #tony stark series #angelicthorwrites

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nezuneko · 4 years

Text

I Assassin’s Creeded myself too deep...

...and this is the one-shot I came up with. I posted the same story to my fanfiction.net account, but I am an impatient attention whore, and I would like to get some feedback :D

Pairing: Evie Frye x Henry Green/Jayadeep Mir

Of red dresses and buttons

Henry’s head was already filled with thoughts about Evie as he stepped into the train carriage to get to his notes. She was angry with him, oh so angry, and it was understandable. He was careless and jeopardized the mission. Who knows where the plans are now, or how much of a hindrance he has been to her... romantic feelings or not, he screwed this up. Big time.

He ran his hand through his hair as he pressed down the door handle, rubbing his eyes in frustration. After the door was opened, he registered a startled gasp, which made him promptly open his eyes, hoping he did not catch Jacob with someone special doing sensitive things. They made a pact early on, that even if the younger assassin needed company, he would meet with them in another location, to avoid such uncomfortable situations, but given Jacob’s tendencies to be ad hoc, one can never be careful enough.

But his gaze didn’t land on anything scandalous on Jacob’s part. Instead of that, he saw Evie Frye in a red dressing gown, her beautiful blue eyes uncharacteristically wide from either the surprise that someone entered unannounced, or that he entered the room, and the whole carriage seemed to stand still for a moment.

Evie was always beautiful in his eyes, from the first moment he saw her on that rooftop back then, but this… this was next level. Not just because it was the first time he saw her without her assassin-gear and outfit (Her skin is so pale – he noted – Paler than the women he saw at the Strand or other parts of London, where there was enough time and opportunity to take care of their beauty), or because her hair was not in her signature braid-style, but just simply swept over one of her shoulders. The dress complemented her delicate features, making Henry realize, that he was much more of a goner than he originally thought. This strong yet seemingly fragile, beautiful, smart and at the same time lethal woman was way out of his league.

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Frye” he found his voice in the end, realizing how improper the situation was.

She already managed to get the skirt part look decent, and she also buttoned the few lower buttons, but her entire back (or better said her corset) was visible due to her state of half-undress.

“No... khm… no, I mean it’s okay, I…” Evie tried to find her vocabulary footing, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. Henry let a small groan go because of the sight and tried to mask it as clearing his throat. “Agnes helped me get this evil contraption on so far, but she had to check something in the back, and…” Evie rambled on, trying to look away from Henry’s eyes failing miserably at it.

“Ah, I see,” the Indian assassin closed the door. God help him, he could not escape from her even if he wanted to “I could help with the buttons… if you don’t mind…”

What he said was terribly improper. Scandalous even, if anyone had heard, but it was just the two of them. The worst that could happen was that he would exit the carriage quickly to avoid her throwing knives.

Evie forgot how to breathe for a second. The offer was… deliciously tantalizing. It made her pulse dance, even though the act, he offered was nothing special, just a nice favor. Right?

“Please,” she said, turning away from him, sweeping a few wayward locks of brown hair to the others.

She heard as Henry’s steps got closer to her, and she could smell his unique scent. Something spicy yet so distinctively him, and her heart wanted to jump out of her throat.

He started to work on the buttons, and Evie suddenly wanted him to undo all of them. She was fairly sure, that Henry could hear her blood running through her veins, furthermore no doubt he could see the goosebumps that arose on her neck by his touch.

He was quickly working on the small buttons, and in no time, the task was finished. Occasionally he touched her, and even the dress and the corset could not dim the warmth she felt from his hands. It took all of Evie’s willpower not to shudder, or sigh.

She was beside herself when she found out that he was kidnapped on their last mission together. She knew, that Henry could take care of himself, and more than likely put up a fight, but she also knew very well, that even though they were assassins, they were no gods. One slip-up is enough, and they pay with their lives. Evie felt selfish, but she could not imagine a world without Henry in it. When she saw him tied to that chair, the young woman was terrified that he was already dead, and when they did get out of that place, she lashed out in fear. Her feelings were compromised, haywire, zigzagging between worry, anger, an emotion she did not even dare to think, and relief.

Now, as Henry finished with the last button, she wanted him to do it all over again. His warm hands rested on her shoulders, then followed the path of the buttons down on her back. Evie had to bite her lower lip not to make any sounds.

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” she managed to whisper “The dress, I mean. Mrs. Disraeli gave it to me, but I feel so stupid...” “You are beautiful, Evie,” Henry said, absent-mindedly caressing the line of buttons “Don’t think for a moment, that you look silly or stupid. You. Are. Beautiful.”

Evie’s hands were itching just to touch him. Just his thighs, they were near, all it would take just one "accidental" stroke, just to feel him, to...

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down...” the man mused “What a shame” He swiped her hair gently from her shoulder, feather-light touch grazing her neck, and she could not stop the small moan escaping her lips. Her cheeks were ablaze now. Where was her level-headedness? Discarded, right there in a dark alley with Jacob’s modest attitude, probably...

The mission comes first, stop this right now! Henry’s sane mind – or what was left of it - screamed at him not to make things more difficult. She needed to focus, she needed someone to support her, not a man, who practically devoured her with his eyes. One whose biggest concern wasn’t the fact, that he had never seen the freckles on her shoulder for example.

And just like that, he was touching her skin, and she was using her beautiful voice to say his name. His given name.

“Jay...”

He could see their reflection in the train’s window. Evie had a lovely blush, that tinted even her décolleté, and he suddenly had a very dry throat.

All the gods be damned – Henry thought, and he kissed Evie on the soft spot behind her ear.

That’s it. That is all he is going to allow himself. He already overstepped dozens of boundaries with a single leap, and their behavior had no trace of rational...

Her hand was in his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp, and he wanted nothing more just to sit her up on the desk, and find out how many ways they can ruin that red dress of hers. He kissed his way down on her shoulder, meanwhile, he slid his hand on her stomach, bringing her closer to him. Evie leaned into him, tilting her head to give Henry better access, watching their reflection in the window.

The woman Evie saw had nothing to do with her normal reflection. This woman was beautiful, powerful. Able to bend this wonderful man to her will. His lips were soft, like silk and she needed something to hold on to, as her legs started to give out on her.

For heaven’s sake, he did nothing more, just kissed and occasionally nipped her ear lightly, what could he be able to do, if... She did not know when she turned around, just that she felt Henry’s lips on hers. Kissing him was like fire, the best whiskey she ever tasted, mixed with the best honey she could ever find. Addictive, like opium.

They backed to the wall, and Evie wanted nothing more than to get rid of that evil contraption of a dress. She wanted to feel more of him, this was not enough, she wanted...

“More...” she managed to utter “...please, Jay...”

“Evie...”

His hands were on their way to undo his work on the buttons when they heard someone knocking on the door.

They froze, chests rapidly rising and falling as they gulped for air.

“Y-yes?” Evie sounded way to breathless, even for her own ears. “Oi, Miss Frye, I came back with mah spects to finish yer dress,” Agnes said, “Can I come in?”

Evie and Henry looked at each other, the reality of what was just about to happen weighed on them in an instant. Evie looked at Henry with a mortified gaze. What was she even thinking?! What could he think of her? Just as she was about to break into a panicked apology, Henry kissed her on her forehead so tenderly and sweetly, that Evie forgot what she wanted to say a second ago.

“I best be on my way. We will meet at my shop, as agreed” he murmured into her hair “Please, Evie, be careful.” he kissed her again, and whispered against her lips “...please.”

The older Frye twin could only nod, as she watched him smile at her, eyes full with non-spoken thoughts and promises. Not a blink later the Ghost of London was gone from her carriage.

“Miss Frye?” Agnes sounded more concerned than impatient and knocked again.

Evie tried to calm herself, then opened the door. She was glad, that Agnes came alone.

“Are ye alright, miss?” Agnes asked as she entered “It's so cold in here, yit ye are so red!” “Uh... yes, I mean...” Evie coughed to get some time to find her wits “Sure. All is well, Agnes, thank you.”

The older woman looked around and closed the open window next to Evie with a conspiratory smile. She motioned the young woman to sit down on the chair so her hair could be done. As Agnes combed through Evie’s locks, the trainkeeper lady risked a question, to which she had the fairly obvious answer.

“Who finished dressin' ye lassie?” she made sure her tone let Evie know, that there was no room for trying to hide the truth. She could see how Evie tensed up for a moment, and relaxed again, as someone who accepted her fate. “Would you mind not telling Jacob?” “I reckon yer white dressed mukker can take care of himself,” Agnes said, “But yer secrit is safe wi' me.”

As Evie exited the train at the next station, Agnes sat at her desk, with an amused smile on her face. Of course, she met Mr. Green as he was on his way to the carriage. Of course, she knew, they were alone together. That the only way he could exit through the window she closed. But she also knew how long these two young idiots were fumbling around each other and felt the tension between them as they boarded the train last time together. Sometimes the proper behavior birthed only stupidity, and the good old ways were the ones that made everything easy. Agnes just hoped, that when this chaos was over, these two can shag it out. As much as it was funny, she hated to be the cockblock sometimes...

#evie frye #jayadeep mir #henvie #assassins creed #ac syndicate #assissins creed syndicate #please review #i hope you had fun #have a nice day #my work

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headoverhiddles · 4 years

Text

Grotesk Burlesk - Hans Landa x Marilyn Manson [Smut]

Synopsis: Colonel Landa finds himself a fish out of water as a patron at a racy club in Berlin, but his affections are stolen by a tall, dark and mysterious performer who is more than meets the eye. This fic is also available on ao3!

Notes: Special thanks to @ninavantastisch for saving me with the German translation!

This is the song performed in this fic, and this is the style in which it is performed. Give it a watch/listen before you read. Also, warning for mild period-typical homophobia and accidental misgendering!

Tagging: @blueinkblot @daughterofdesire @wingsy-keeper-of-songs (and @skin-slave you might like this!)

Everything had been getting on Landa's nerves. The job, his subordinates making even the slightest mistake. He was on edge, moody, and short-- this is how he came to visit Das Haus des Gold during his time off, a nightclub not typically frequented by those of his social standing.

"Schöner Laden," (Lovely place) Lt. Schmidt observed, as his fellow lieutenant grinned widely at a passing waitress dressed in a black corset.

"Ein bisschen klein aber in Ordnung," (A little small, but alright) Captain Von Wolff nodded, narrowing his eyes, and turned to Hans. "Wenn es Ihnen nicht zusagt, Oberst dann können wir auch woanders hingehen." (If this does not please you, colonel, we can find another place.)

“Ich denke es ist schon in Ordnung,” (I think it is alright) Lt. Orlock said, still watching the young lady in black, and earned a quick smack to the back of the head from Von Wolff.

Hans thought about this. It was obviously not an establishment he would have picked out. It was filled with dada-esque low art, which would normally disgust him. Still. Was this such a bad thing? Art is to be appreciated in any form, and Landa knew that better than any in his company, being a man of culture himself. Furthermore, it was to be expected of every member of the army that they, in their recreation, find something on the side to amuse them, keep them in good spirits. But Hans, he could hardly bear the idea of getting too chummy with his fellow officers in a place like this. He was an authority figure to be feared, not "one of the men".

That really wasn’t any reason to turn down a nice night on the town, however. It was better than another night of interrogation of those dim-witted enough to believe they could outsmart him.

Von Wolff took Landa's silence as apprehension, and began to back them away to the door. "Ich hätte Schmidt nicht die Planung, für diesen Abend, überlassen sollen…" (I shouldn't have let Schmidt plan this night...)

"Nein," Hans put up a hand with a small smile, "Nein. Es ist ein schönes Établissement." (No, no. It is a fine establishment.)

“Aber, Colonel Landa—”

“Das klingt schrecklich nach einem Kapitän, der die Entscheidung seines Vorgesetzten in Frage stellt. Oder bin ich nur empfindlich?” (This sounds an awful lot like a captain questioning his superior's decision. Or am I just sensitive?)

“…Nein, Herr Colonel. Natürlich nicht.” (No, Colonel. Of course not.)

The three entered the nightclub, and were seated.

A young blonde lady in a small black dress came over. Landa could see her garter belt, and gave her a once over.

"Was kann ich Ihnen bringen?" (What can I get for you?)

"Nur ein schönes, kaltes Glass Milch für mich. Danke." Hans smiled warmly at her. (Just a nice cold glass of milk for me, thanks.) If she was at all confused over his order, she didn’t show it, as the rest of the men ordered tall beers. She departed to promptly to fill their orders.

"Die Damen hier sind reizend," Landa commented. (The women here are lovely.) Just then, the black curtains drew, and the lights dimmed. Two girls shimmied out onstage, bound together as Siamese twins by a stitched up straight jacket. Interesting visual display. They started to play piano, a dark, sexy melody, and a tall figure came out.

She was dressed in heels, long smooth legs running up to black pantyhose and a small black dress covering what could not be left to the imagination. She had a bowler hat down over her eyes, but her lips were luscious and deep red, contrasting against her vampirically pale skin. Strands of short black hair protruded from beneath the hat as she reached up with fingerless gloved hands to move the hat up. Long faux eyelashes were revealed, as they barely dusted the crystals that adorned her cheeks. She lifted her chin, and with a sultry little spin, began to sing.

"Well our monkeys have monkeys, we drive our death crushed diamond jaguar limousine... we're not fantastic mother-fuckers, but we play them on TV..."

Hans was lost in the sway of her hips, her deeper-than-most voice, and the provocative movements of her body. She came to the front of the stage, saluting while parting her long, slender legs. "It's a dirty word, 'Reich', say... what you like, it's a dirty word, 'Reich', say... what you like." She winked the officers' way with that line after noticing their uniforms, and launched into a chorus that was just as sexy.

"We're the low art gloominati, and we... aim to depress... the scab-aret sacrilegends, this is the golden age of grotesque..."

She got up on a platform of sorts, and began to grind her hips against the microphone stand, something that got a considerable rise out of the crowd.

"I got the jigger to make all you bigger, ladies und gentlemen... so drop your piss room bait and make sure you're not late you tramps and lunatics." She held up a finger gun to her forehead, and licked her red lips as she looked directly at Hans.

"Cause the trick... 'sgonna make you.... click."

Landa readjusted in his seat, hoping his men couldn’t see how affected by the performance he really was. This performer was absolutely beautiful. Oh, what those red lips could do around him. Where those slender fingers could touch. This was true art, no doubt in Landa's mind, not Goebbels' drivel propaganda he peddles to the Fuehrer for praise. Landa may be an officer, but he wasn’t blind. This singer could enthrall the entire country with a look alone.

"We sing la, la la la... la la la, we sing la la la la la." The dark haired beauty smirked, tipping that bowler hat back. "La, la la la... la la la, we sing la la la, la la..." She finished off her song with a little bow, and a kiss blown out to the audience. Landa toiled during her next number, a song she introduced as Doll Dagga Buzz Buzz Ziggety Zag. Watching her dance, he narrowed his eyes. There's something about that performer he couldn’t shake. Something different, something... secret. And make no mistake, there was no better man in the country at detecting secrets than Hans Landa. He sat, frozen in reverie as she went on to her third and final song, something about a mobscene.

"Sie ist unglaublich!” (She's incredible!) Schmidt whispered, “Tiefe Stimme, aber.... wunderschön.” (Low voice, but… beautiful.)

Hans wondered what it could be that he was picking up on with this singer. Usually he was better at figuring out what people are hiding. It could just be the fact that one of her eyes was white, while the other was dark… that could be throwing him off.

Interrupting his contemplation a few minutes later, the music picked up a little to a raunchy jazz number, as a curvy, radiant black haired beauty came strutting onstage in a glittery dress and top hat. She winked at the crowd as she shrugged off her feather boa to the music, and began to unzip her dress from behind.

"Was für eine Art von Club ist das hier, Schmidt?” (What kind of club is this, Schmidt?) Von Wolff demanded, though he was unable to take his eyes off the stage.

"Meine liebste Art!” (My favourite kind!) Orlock answered for him, clapping for the girl and laughing. Though this one was beautiful too, Landa simply could not get the mystery and allure of the last performer's eyes out of his mind. As the brunette began to strip, Hans excused himself from his officers, and slipped backstage. He searched around for a moment, then found who he was looking for. The captivating singer from the stage.

"Guten abend, schöne Fraulein."

"I don't speak German," the performer said, taking down one of the stockings on a long, pale leg, "My songs back there were in English, in case you didn't notice."

Hans adjusted his speech accordingly. "Your music still, is very much influenced by German culture, is it not?"

The singer began to lift up the little dress past their undergarments. "Yeah. You're right about that."

"So. An American out of his comfort zone."

And a man, so it would seem. So that's what they were hiding. Hans' gaze lingered for more than a few seconds.

"I wouldn't say I'm out of my comfort zone," the crossdresser tilted his head, "I've got you in the palm of my hand in a small dressing room, small enough for me to either suck your cock or stab you with my hairpin. If I stabbed you, I could go home a war hero." He reached down to unlace his g-string, then looked up, raising his shaved eyebrows. "Mind if I readjust my crotch?"

Hans smiled slightly at the man's blunt language, finding it refreshing. He held up a hand to show he did not mind, and steered the conversation back. "What is stopping you from using... what did you say? A hairpin, to murder me?" Hans smiled. He was rather enjoying this man already. The performer pursed his painted lips.

"I don't get involved in wars. I just do what I do best. Drink expensive absinthe, look pretty, and perform."

"You do certainly do the last two well, yes," Landa nodded, "Do you have any proof of the first point?"

Manson smirked, realizing what the man was asking. He reached behind his vanity, and pulled out a thin bottle. He took two glasses, pouring a bit in each.

“What is your name?”

“…Marilyn.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Is it your real one?”

“Nothing in this world is for real.” He pulled out some distilled water, and added that to both glasses, watching the liquid go a milky green. "Here. Sorry, no sugar spoons around."

"Oh, I prefer to drink milk, thank you."

"You went through all the effort of finding me backstage. Now you have to drink what I drink."

Landa reluctantly accepted the offer, mainly because he was a curious man by nature, but also because the man offering it to him was ridiculously good looking. "Hm. Very well. Do you mind at all if I smoke, to enjoy the drink with it?" Landa asked.

"Go ahead."

Landa lit up a German cigarette, offering one to Marilyn, who declined. Then Landa takes a sip, and marvels at how strong the drink is. Odd flavours dance across his taste buds, and he feels his head begin to swim almost immediately.

"It's different from being drunk," Marilyn commented, cutting through the haze as he took the generous sip of a seasoned drinker, "It's like you can lose your body, but not your mind."

"I see what you mean," Landa nodded, rubbing his chest, "Exquisite taste, however. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it."

Marilyn took another sip. "It's alright. You can say it tastes like herbal acid. It only tastes good when it's pretty much all you drink." He gestured to himself. Hans chuckled, set his drink aside, and carefully cleared some makeup off of a stool. "Eh, may I sit down?" The performer nodded, and stared for a second at the curiously benevolent officer.

"…You don't care that I'm a man, huh?"

Hans mulled this over. "I will not lie, it did surprise me. But then, why should I care?" he shrugged, straightening out his uniform, "You put on a beautiful performance, and you are a beautiful person. There is no reason to shy away from that fact."

"You liked the show?" Marilyn asked, not immune to a little praise.

"It was magnificent. You took my breath away." The man didn’t let the officer see his smile-- he turned away to finish taking down his other stocking.

"I only ask, cause... a lot of men like you see my show, get all hot and bothered, come back here like you did expecting a nice happy ending, then they blame me for seducing them when they find out I'm not the pretty little German woman of their dreams. Makeup only covers up so many black eyes, so I've started warning people before they, uh... bunch up my skirt."

His smile was joking, but his eyes conveyed a weariness only someone as sharp as Hans could detect.

"I'm not complaining, but… why do you continue to perform then?" the German asked softly. "Your performance is art, and so are you. You should be treated as such."

"Yeah, well contrary to popular belief, I don't perform to fuck people," Marilyn said, an undertone of sarcasm present, "I actually do enjoy the art of getting up onstage and putting on a show that'll get people talking. Make people think about how they respond to my art. Fucking attractive people is just a bonus." He undid his corset in front of the mirror.

"Here. Allow me to assist you," Landa said, and put out his cigarette before getting up. He was shorter than the performer, but their eyes still met in the mirror as Landa unlaced the contraption one whalebone hook by one, slowly, deliberately down his back. Shivers ran down Marilyn’s spine, the officer's gaze penetrating. Landa's finger grazed down Marilyn's back, down and up again to unlace the final hook.

A bubbly brunette strode in from the stage. She was the charming burlesque dancer who had gone on after Marilyn.

"You were fantastic," she said, leaning in. She was topless from her striptease—Hans admired the freedom of it all, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy officer’s life he led. It was like being in a whole different world, the exciting underbelly of the artist’s hideout. She and Marilyn shared a European kiss on both cheeks, and she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He smiled.

"So were you, Dita."

"Gotta run, honey. I see you're indisposed, anyway." She shot off a wink, waving playfully at Hans, and hurried off to her own dressing room, breasts bouncing with every poised step.

"She is charming," Landa commented, shaking his head. "She is American too?" Manson looked back to him, suspicious of the question. He didn't give a fuck about himself, but when it came to the people close to him... Landa smirked. "I am not in the business of turning over American burlesque dancers to the Fuhrer. I am simply curious."

For whatever reason, Manson believed him.

"Dita and I came here to Berlin from Los Angeles to perform. We brought along a couple others to support our shows. We felt like we belonged here more than we did there, with all the uptight, patriotic isolationist nonsense in America." He changed the subject. "You wanna give me your name too, or is that breaching German military code?"

"Colonel Hans Landa, of the SS."

"Colonel," Marilyn nodded, "I'm impressed." He did not seem impressed. Landa gave him a look of amusement.

"Would you rather I be a general?"

Manson sighs, sucking in his cheekbones and powdering his face with a large fluffy powder puff. "I'd rather you be pulling my hair and shouting whatever the f word is in German repeatedly, but wishful thinking gets me nowhere. Especially not with some SS colonel who had the audacity to drop into my boudoir." Landa raised his eyebrows. Watching the performer's graceful limbs and trailing his gaze down to admire the black lace contrasting against Marilyn's backside, Landa started to work the night out in his mind, examining how this could look from all angles. In order to keep his credibility (and his reputation) he'd need to think up an elaborate story that would get the both of them to a spot safe to carry out any fantasies that begged to be indulged. He had to convince Marilyn of it too—he couldn’t risk any slip ups.

"I have the authority to go anywhere I like in this country," he said, smile still on his face but quickly contorting into something ominous, "I hope you know that, my pretty American." Marilyn hesitated, picking up on the sudden shift in the mood, but thought nothing of it as he continued to undress. "I must confess, I have not been entirely truthful with you tonight," Hans went on, folding his hands in his lap. Marilyn tucked his hair behind his ears, inspecting his reflection.

"No? You gonna tell me you're a woman?"

Despite himself, Landa chuckled. "That situation would make for a good stage play, would it not?" His smile slowly ebbed away, as he replaced it with a cold gaze of sinister intent. "Do you know what they call me?"

"I can't say that I do."

"They call me the Jew Hunter."

"I'm not Jewish."

"No. But you are American. An allied country, and an enemy of the state. What you have told me here tonight, and the simple fact of you being a crossdresser by profession, gives me the authority to take you and keep you in holding until your identity has been confirmed by the embassy of the United States of America." At this, Marilyn turned around sharply, dropping his red lipstick with a clatter. "Ah," Landa put up a hand, "There's nowhere for you to go but with me, unless you wish to be shot down like a dog in the street."

Marilyn tried to escape anyway, dodging past him in an attempt to warn the others. Landa however, was too fast. He grabbed the taller by the bicep, and dragged him in with strength unbefitting of a man of his physicality.

"If you run or make any noise at all, I will have the lovely Miss Von Teese kept here as not only a prisoner of war, but a comfort girl. How would she like to strip for the Fuhrer? Hm?"

Manson ripped his arm away as he realized there was no way out of this, snarling. "Fuckin' bastard."

Landa's mouth twitched up. "If you'll be a good boy and cooperate, we can do this the easy way, without a scene." He leaned in. "Remember. What is it you said on stage? Be obscene... not heard."

Marilyn resisted the urge to growl again, and let Landa lead him out from backstage. Dita was busy in her own area, and none of the other performers took his departure on a stranger’s arm as particularly out of the ordinary. Tim Sköld, a Swedish man Marilyn had met in America who had followed his company out here, watched after him lazily, grazing the arm of one of the Siamese twins who was currently staining kisses all over his face.

“There he goes again,” Tim murmured, and took one of her fingers into his mouth.

Landa approached his men again, who were now about three drinks in and having a good old time at the table.

"Ah, Landa!" Orlock laughed, red in his puffy face from too much schnapps, "Da sind Sie ja wieder! Sie haben es verpasst-- Schmidt, der verdammte Narr, hat die Bardame zum Wetttrinken herausgefordert. Hat gesagt, wenn sie verliert, dann zeigt sie ihm ihre großen Brüste! Natürlich hat er--” (Rejoined us at long last! You missed it-- Schmidt, the damned fool, challenged the pretty barmaid to a drinking contest, said if she lost, she'd have to show her big tits! Of course he--)

"Wer ist das, Landa?” (Who is this, Landa?) Von Wolff asked, cutting in with a stern glare.

"Don't you recognize our costumed friend?" Landa asked in English. Marilyn looked up with a sneer, and the other men noticed his lipstick, his clip on earrings, and the sultry shadowed eyes all three of them were unabashedly admiring an hour ago.

"Sie war ein Mann?!” (She was a man?!) Von Wolff growled, “Schmidt, du Narr! Du hast uns in einen entarteten Club gebracht!” (Schmidt, you fool! You brought us to a degenerate club!) Schmidt looked notably sheepish, which made Landa question why he hadn’t clued into the young lieutenant’s predilections sooner; no matter now. Lt. Orlock got up, fist at the ready. Marilyn for his part, didn’t shy away.

"Yeah? You wanna fight me, you pieces of shit?" he blurted, breaking free of Landa's grasp for a moment, "Come on. Come on! Why don’t you teach me what it's like to be a man?!" Landa put a stop to Marilyn's antagonistic behavior by grabbing his arm again, tighter this time.

"And the queer is American," Von Wolff mentioned in English, giving Marilyn the dirtiest look.

“That’s me, everyone’s favorite American slut,” Marilyn sighed. Orlock threatened to punch him again, so Marilyn spat in his face. This had the same effect as waving a red flag in front of a bull.

“Ah ah,” Von Wolff growled, holding Orlock back. “He will get what he deserves behind bars, Lieutenant. He is a person of interest, especially having broken the law in such a… repulsive, lewd manner.”

“I think it’s repulsive and lewd how you’re gonna jerk off later thinking of my ass,” Marilyn mouthed off, and Landa yanked his arm roughly in warning.

"No doubt he is of interest to us," Landa nodded slightly, "I could tell instantly the moment he stepped onstage."

"Bullshit," Marilyn snapped, and that finally earned him a hard slap across the face from Landa. The colonel kept his expression hard, but cringed a little inwardly. He didn't mean to hit the younger man that hard. Marilyn though, shut his mouth, the sting of the slap sending a wave of arousal through him. Perfect. Now he had an inappropriate erection to deal with in his lacy little panties, on top of being taken to see goddamn Adolf Hitler over a little drag performance. Let's go to Germany, Dita said. It'll be fun, she said.

“Und wieder einmal,” (Once again) Von Wolff said, bowing his head, “Ihr Talent Dinge zu erkennen sucht seinesgleichen, Herr Oberst Landa. Ich werde ihnen versichern dass in weniger als fünf Minuten ein Wagen bereit steht und sich um dieses Schwein kümmert.” (Your talents of detection are unmatched, Herr Colonel Landa. I will ensure an automobile for you in less than five minutes to take care of this swine.)

Landa nodded, and escorted Marilyn outside. He kept a firm grip on the performer's arm, and prompted him to get into the car first. Landa then closed the door, keeping his expression calm. They were driven to Landa's private residence in the automobile, the place where he conducted some of his higher profile interrogations.

On his side of the car, Marilyn was mentally kicking himself over being so goddamn naïve. Years of experience, and he still hadn’t learned that not every man or woman that throws a compliment or two his way and seems like the sweetest thing to walk the earth was trustworthy. Maybe he had had too many unrequited affairs—unrequited in the end, that is. He gave affection-starved a whole new meaning… but affection wasn’t all he wanted in this case. Being this close to the Colonel was warming him up... he recalled the gaze he met in the mirror, what was behind it. It was as if the Colonel had been undressing him with his eyes. Could that really have all been an act after all to lure him in? If so, this Landa guy was very good at what he did.

“So. You believe in your cause here?”

“I thought you didn’t like to get political.”

“Well I just figured, before you kill me, I wanna know that it means something to you.”

Landa looked out the window of the car. “I am a part of this organization by uniform only. I am an opportunist. Not a fascist slave.”

“Huh. You sound more like an American than I do.”

The decoration of the old mansion was ornate, beautiful, and Marilyn tried not to get too distracted by it all. At last, Landa followed him in and shut the front door, the two protected by the privacy of his own home. "You can rest easy. I am not holding you prisoner, or murdering you."

"Then why the fuck did you kidnap me?!" Marilyn demanded, rubbing his arm where Landa had had it in a death grip.

"Don’t be so dramatic. I did not kidnap you, I merely removed you from our primary location. Do not forget, I still have jurisdiction in this region to select anyone whom I deem to be an enemy of the state in hiding, to question them and to kill them at my bidding."

Marilyn huffed. "You really want to kill me?"

"No. I do not want to kill you."

“Nah, you wanna fuck me first.”

“Will you learn to speak with better etiquette?”

“Just because I say fuck, doesn’t mean I don’t have better etiquette than you. You’re actually the first man I’ve met in a long time I can carry on an intelligent conversation with.”

Hans considers this. “Your intellect is prominent, I will admit.”

“The only difference between you and me is a little lipstick, and the fact that I say what I mean.” Marilyn strutted in to tug Hans’ tie. “I’d like to get my lipstick all over you, though.”

Hans tugged his tie loose, swallowing. “Red was never my colour.”

“It will be tonight.”

“Scheisse…”

Marilyn looked down and inspected his nails. "Anyway. I don't know why your friends were all so shocked to see I was a man," he muttered, "You military guys might wanna check the part of town they’re spending your evenings in next time you go out and decide to have a good time kidnapping performers for the glory of the state."

“Watch your tongue.”

“You watch my tongue, it’ll be all over your body in a second.”

Hans got pinker in the face. "I've told you, this is not kidnapping, and that was all a show that was necessary to move locations," he sighed, locking his door.

"You couldn't have just fucked me there, in my dressing room?"

"Of course not, it was an open dressing room, there was no door! I will not risk my reputation for that, good god."

"Awww... I'm not worth it?" Marilyn asked, and Landa clenched his jaw.

"Do not push your luck."

"I've already done that, Herr Colonel."

Landa was affected the name, and melted into the touch as Marilyn started to undo his pants, getting between his legs. The same fantasies from earlier swirled in Landa's head, imagining the taller man’s red lips closing around his cock. This fantasy would evidently come true. Marilyn dropped to his knees, and finally got him out of his pants. His false eyelashes blinked up, and he gave the head a kitten lick, before obscenely taking the whole thing to the back of his throat.

"Oh, meine liebe, you have a talent..."

"Keep talking."

He went back down on Hans, his tongue working magic on the Colonel. Hans admired him. "Look at how beautiful you are... you are gorgeous."

"If I run my mouth about it, I gotta have the goods to back it up." Marilyn grinned and hollowed out his cheeks, moaning a little and getting off on being used. “Slap me?”

“For what?”

“I like it. Like you did earlier, slap me in the face while you’re face fucking me.” Landa bit his lip, and Marilyn looked up, fire burning in those mismatched eyes. “Did I stutter? Now!” The slap was sharp, and echoed in the large house. Marilyn went even faster on Landa’s dick, his pale cheek immediately taking on the pink imprint of Landa’s hand. “Again.”

Another slap hit him, and Marilyn licked back to Landa’s balls, grazing his perineum and making the German hiss. After a second, he started to feel Landa throb, and popped off, standing up. Marilyn put a slender hand on his arm. He then leaned in, and connected their lips in a chaste kiss, gently working a little deeper until Landa's mouth was open and gasping. Marilyn pulled back, smirking down at him. "My lipstick looks good on you after all."

Landa ran his tongue along his bottom lip, and felt his cock throb. He didn’t want to ask it...

"What's on your mind?" Marilyn asked, voice soft and smooth as the green velvet cabriole he was lowering Hans onto. "Never slept with a man?"

"No," Landa said, "I have." They continued to kiss heatedly, and Marilyn wandered his hand down between the two, pressing on Landa's erection. When he snapped his hips down in a purely instinctual thrust, Landa dropped his head back, mouth falling open.

"You want me inside you," Marilyn realized, trailing his fingers down Landa's heaving chest. "Don't you? Hm? You wanna feel my big cock pounding your ass, don't you, you dirty motherfucker?"

"Ah, scheisse," Landa muttered again, and reached down to touch his aching erection. Marilyn slapped his hand away, and replaced it with his own.

"Nuh uh. That’s all mine." Marilyn stood, smirking. “This what you want?” Hans lay back against the couch cushions, eyes hooded as Marilyn snapped the fabric of his panties against that porcelain skin. “You want this cock, pretty boy?” He teased his thinly veiled erection in Landa’s face, rubbing himself slowly through the black lace. Landa wanted to reach out and touch it, but Marilyn danced his hips away every time he did. “Is this what you want me to do to you…?” Marilyn turned, as if giving Landa his own private strip show, and slid two fingers between his asscheeks, moaning a little as he played with his entrance for a second. “You want me to play with your hole like this, Herr Colonel? You want me to---ohhh--- touch you like this, fuck you like this?”

Landa could barely breathe. The sound of the taller man’s voice alone did things to him that no other had before. Marilyn turned back around to lightly bump his cock against the German man’s face, grinding it so close to his lips, daring him to try and touch. When the performer was good and satisfied with how well he had trained Landa, he smugly relented, crawling back between his legs.

Landa watched the man on top of him, watched his long lashes blink, his crimson lips part to make way for his tongue to swipe. He really was beautiful.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Marilyn whispered against his skin as he leaned in again, echoing Landa's unspoken sentiments, "I'm gonna wreck this body so hard." Landa let out a strangled moan, and Marilyn looked around. "Please say you have something I can lube up with. I have two morals. One, never make music that confuses strippers like me, and two, never go into a guy dry—the blood is impossible to get out of lingerie."

"The oil is over there."

"Mm." He grabbed the oil, and started to gently prepare Landa, watching him writhe. "You finger yourself often, Colonel? You get the girls you bring back here to fuck you with their fingers? Big strap-ons? Do they go running their mouths all over the place, telling everyone how Hans Landa the cockslut likes taking it up the ass?"

Landa couldn’t respond... he could only clench his jaw. Marilyn jerked his cock a few times, and used the oil to cover himself generously. He then turned Landa over onto his stomach, giving his ass a good smack before sinking into him.

"Take this dick, Landa," Marilyn growled, "You're a powerful man out there. But in here you're my little bitch, aren't you?"

"Oh," Landa moaned. He was already approaching his orgasm, golden hair matted to his forehead and lips pink and stained.

"Close already? Huh? Imagine if you were fucking me. Hm? You'd leave me hard, wouldn't you? You'd just cum in my ass right now, wouldn’t you?"

"I- I can't..."

"Useless. You're fucking pathetic, you can't even last five minutes."

Landa gasped, trying to contain his moans. He never mentioned anything about humiliation being something he was aroused by in bed, but Marilyn was right—intuition is a part of being good at this, and Marilyn was good at this.

“I’m…” Landa couldn’t finish his sentence. He stifled his next groan in his arm, breath hitching.

"Nah ah. I want you to moan like every bit of the slut you are. COME ON, let me heat it! I want all of Germany to know it.” Marilyn’s voice rose until he was practically screaming himself hoarse, tugging Landa’s hair back roughly. “I want the whole fucking world to know it, goddamnit, let me hear you!"

"Scheisse, scheisse, bitte!" Landa cried, feeling himself tip over the edge. With his brutal pace, the performer hit his prostate, and Hans finally came in Marilyn’s fist. Marilyn waited for him to finish, then pulled out, jerking off onto him with his fist a blur. Hans felt Marilyn's cum paint his back, and bit his fist. The performer then sat back on his heels, wiping his brow.

"All you military men have great asses."

Landa, regaining his usual confidence with his breath, scoffs at this. "And how would you know this beyond your experience with me?"

Marilyn gave him a look. "Dita, Tim and I have done nothing but drink and sleep our way around Berlin for the past few months. We have enough experience.”

Landa sat up, doing his shirt buttons up to his lower chest. "I thought you said all the other officers would beat you for 'seducing' them."

"Doesn't mean I can't look at their backsides after they beat me."

Landa shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "You really are something, Marilyn... eh, what was your last name?"

"That will remain a mystery. I’m not giving you any more than you need to know after... all that."

"It was a happy ending for the both of us," Landa protested.

"Sure, after a big fucking hassle. I don't even know if it was worth it."

"Remember," Landa growled, "I can still have you arrested if I choose to."

"Right," Marilyn whispered, sauntering over to him to help him do up the rest of his buttons, "While you’re feeling like a big man again, let's not forget who made you moan like the little whore your men think I am ten minutes ago." He kissed Landa's cheek tenderly, grazed his hand down to give the German's clothed cock a pat, and smirked as he walked off to Landa's bar in search of more absinthe.

“Well,” the Colonel sighed, smoothing his hair back to a respectable style, “What is that American expression? You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

Das Haus Des Gold would most likely be his nightclub of choice from now on... but next time, Landa would be sure to attend alone for, perhaps, a more private show.

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