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lalacliffthorne · 5 months

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🪽 ... then we go down together. 🪽

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: confessions, more of those damn arrows. and a masquerade ball.

notes: I am so sorry. this damn thing just kept getting longer and longer; I think I stopped looking at the word count somewhere after 14k, but splitting it again wasn't really an option, so... sorry? *winces* it just had to fit everything!! we've got more smut, more drama, more Azriel - because honestly, he needs his own warning at this point - and that just required an unholy amount of words. so make yourself a cuppa, cozy up comfortably, and binge this ridiculously long second part.

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Wind howled around the cabin, the woods outside pitch black, visible through the cracks in the shutters as I stared at Azriel's face.

He'd pulled me into his body sometime in the last hour, still half asleep, his hand sliding in between my legs and dragging me through the sheets, hauling my bare leg over his hip before slipping his arms around waist and pulling me close until my bare body was completely pressed against his – stomach against stomach, thigh against thigh, chest against chest.

Something hitched and dipped under my ribs, and trying to swallow against the quick flutter, I let my gaze trail over Azriel's face. I could feel the bandages wrapped around his ribs pressing against my bare skin. I had changed them some time ago, reapplying the paste onto the stitched wound that already didn't look as sickly anymore, while Azriel had trailed slow kisses over my neck, his hands lazily roaming my sides, making focusing nearly impossible.

Now, his eyes were piercing mine, a little tired but watchful and steady as always. I was so close I could see the golden specks swimming in the clear amber of his iris, could see the pale freckles on the bridge of his nose. His gaze slowly dragged over my face, and I almost shivered under the intensity of it.

Somehow, Azriel had always been the only one who's stare could do this to me. Cause my skin to tingle just with the way his eyes pierced mine, deep, unreadable, swallowing me whole in their depths.

I tried not to think about that too much.

Azriel's fingers slowly ghosted over my back, following my spine, his rough skin causing my heart to hitch and breath to tremble, and his iris shifted, becoming a shade deeper, that blazing fire flaring to life as his eyes tracked over my face.

My heart toppled, and I blinked. Then I mumbled: “You know what I've been wondering?”

Azriel's eyes dragged over mine, silent, waiting.

I stared at him, slowly frowning softly.

"Since you're basically half bat, could you sleep upside down?”

Azriel blinked. Then his eyes narrowed, and I felt my lips curve upwards until I was grinning widely.

“There are beams up there. If you weren't patched up in six different places, I'd say give it a tr-“

I broke off with a soft squeal when Azriel rolled me around in one smooth movement and dragged my back into his chest; his arm locked around my waist, pinning me against his chest as his tall body curved around mine, and snorted giggles started breaking from my throat when his fingers dug into my ribs. I squirmed, my heart soaring from laughter, and Azriel nipped at my jaw.

“Watch it,”, he mumbled against my skin, and my heart dipped over at the sound of his deep, smooth voice.

“Or what?” I twisted my neck to grin at him, cheekily, challenging, but my breath got stuck in my throat when my eyes met Azriel's.

Slowly, a lazy twinkle spread through his iris.

My lips parted with a sharp inhale when he dropped his head and dragged his lips over my neck. Then he pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the underside of my jaw, and a soft shudder travelled through my body.

Azriel gave a rough sound deep in his chest, and one of his hands slid up and wrapped gently over my throat to hold me still as his nose dragged over my skin.

Something twisted and tightened in my stomach, a hoarse whimper built in my chest, and my head fell to the side when Azriel started pressing hard, hungry kisses onto my neck, his teeth dragging over my skin and nipping just firmly enough for my breath to shake.

My eyes rolled back as my lids fluttered, and I squirmed in his hold, something beginning to twist harshly in my lower stomach when Azriel dragged me closer into his body. Then his hands slid down and closed over my breasts.

A broken moan fell from my lips, and my back arched as Azriel's scarred skin brushed over my nipples, causing them to tighten. A soft rumble built in the shadowsinger´s chest, and he kissed my neck harder as his hands began to palm and tug at my breasts, causing my head to fall back and something twisting and tightening in my lower stomach as I whimpered.

My hips pushed back as I arched into Azriel's touch, my ass brushed against him, and something hot washed over my insides when I felt his hard cock press up against me.

Azriel growled deeply against my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin as his fingers pinched my right nipple, and my eyes rolled back at the sharp twinge of pleasure that shot right down to where I could feel wetness begin to pool between my legs.

Az lightly bit down onto my neck before kissing the spot lazily, his tongue dragging over my skin as his right hand slipped off my breast and slowly slid down over my stomach.

I whimpered softly when his rough skin skimmed over my hip bone, my back arched, and Azriel's nose brushed over my jaw as his hand slipped into my panties. I caught a glimpse at his face from the corner of my eye, iris blazing, gaze fixed onto my face and lips parted, and something tightened harshly in my stomach. Then rough fingers brushed over my clit, and my spine melted as my head fell back and Azriel groaned hoarsely into my skin as his thumb slid over the swollen nub.

Pleasure zipped through me, twisting my insides as I moaned thickly. My body writhed in Azriel's grip, trying to escape and move closer to the waves rolling through my body at the same time, and the shadowsinger gripped me tighter as his fingers slid through my folds, beginning to lazily circle my clit. I whimpered as his other hand palmed my chest and his nose dragged over my jaw, his uneven breath hitting my skin.

Azriel gave a deep, rough sound, and the pad of one of his fingers slid over my entrance.

My hips bucked, and my eyes rolled back into my head when Azriel slowly slipped one finger into me.

Azriel's arm tightened around me, pinning me into his chest as his gaze burned into the side of my face. Then he slowly curled his finger, his palm dragging over my clit, and my body shuddered.

My hand flew up to bury in Azriel's hair as my head fell back, to hold onto something, anchor me down, because I felt like I was slipping away. Azriel groaned against my neck, his teeth catching onto the shell of my ear, and my back arched as a whimper broke from my throat when his nose traced over my skin. Then he started to slowly pump his finger.

My body twisted in his grip. My hand curled into his hair as a whimper broke from my throat and my mind swam with pleasure, and Azriel nuzzled his nose against my jaw, causing my hips to twitch and roll down as my insides fluttered. Then he eased in another finger.

A broken moan slid from my lips as I felt myself pulse, and Azriel growled, the sound rumbling through me. His fingers curled inside of me, hitting some spot, and my back arched as my lips parted soundlessly.

Heat rushed through me, washing over my limbs as slowly, a tightness built in my stomach, causing my insides to clench and tighten around Azriel's fingers as little by little, they picked up their pace, the heel of his palm pressing into my clit and causing my insides to twist.

My hips bucked down into his hand as Azriel's lips dragged over my neck, and he softly bit my jaw, like a soundless encouragement, his forearm wrestling my legs apart as his fingers pumped inside of me. I threw my head back, my chest aching as I felt the knot in my stomach grow tighter. My free hand dug into the pillow, clutched the sheets as I felt my lips part.

“Shit, I –“

The tightness pulsed without warning. Then it shattered.

My body arched, became boneless, bloomed into something shuddering and shaking as waves of white hot scalding pleasure rolled over me, and I trembled, shaking moans breaking from my throat as Azriel's hand rode me through the high, until my whole body spasmed and shuddering jolts of pleasure made me throw back my head.

Azriel slowly curled his fingers inside of me until I fell limp, breathing heavily. A whimper left me when he slid them out of me, his scarred skin brushing over my clit causing me to jerk.

Something was pulsing in my lower stomach, wetness pooling between my legs as I exhaled with a tremble and turned my head, something rising my chest when my nose brushed against Azriel's and I met his eyes, blazing with heat, glued to my face.

A deep sound broke from his chest, and Azriel leaned forward and crashed his lips onto mine.

I twisted to face him, my fingers sliding into his hair, and Azriel's grip around my waist tightened when I pulled him down and kissed him back feverishly, tongues exploring lazily as his hand slipped under my thigh and dragged it over his waist.

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his hard cock nudge against my panties, and Azriel groaned softly into my mouth, his arm wrapping over my thigh and ass as he started to slowly grind against me. I moaned as I felt myself flutter around nothing, heat pooling between my legs as I dug my fingers into his hair and rolled my hips to meet his, seeking for some sort of friction against the throb between my legs. Azriel licked over my tongue, nipping at my bottom lip before dropping his head and burying his face against my neck. His hot, heavy breath hit my skin as he kissed harshly down my throat, teeth grazing my skin, and my head fell back.

I tried to shift my hips down further, feeling frustration twist in my stomach, pulling tautly, and Azriel's fingers slid under my panties, pulling them to the side. His thumb brushed over my clit, my hips jerked and insides tightened, and Azriel groaned softly against my neck.

“Fuck.”

His deep, hoarse voice rumbled through me, and my stomach dipped over, hips rolling down desperately as he softly nipped my collarbone, body still lazily grinding up against me.

His thumb slid down through my folds like he was planning on letting go, and with a desperate whimper, I pushed my hips foward.

Azriel's cock slid up through my folds and over my clit, and my body shuddered.

Az grunted, the sound strangled as his hands dug into the flesh of my thigh, dragging it up higher. Then he rolled his hips, and my head fell back slightly when the head of his cock caught my clit.

Azriel groaned, fingers tearing at my panties, dragging them down my legs, spreading my thighs further and pushing closer as he breathed heavily against my neck. But the angle was not quite working, our bodies too close and yet not quite enough, hips grinding desperately, breathy moans and groans vibrating over my skin –

The shadowsinger growled in frustration, my hips shuddered, and I slid forward and pushed my leg over his side until Azriel rolled onto his back and pulled me with him.

A whimper caught in my throat and my eyes rolled back when Azriel's cock slid up through my folds. My hips bucked back as my knees settled next to his hips, and Azriel's hands pressed against my thighs, his head thrown back into the pillows.

My heart stumbled drunkenly as my eyes dragged over the curve of his throat, littered with bruises, dark hair tousled and sweaty, swollen lips parted and the gold of his iris barely visible through his heavily lidded eyes; and my hips stuttered and rolled down on their own accord.

My spine melted to liquid and my lips parted as I felt the head of Azriel's hard cock notch against my clit. A soft, strangled sound built in my throat, my legs shook, and I whimpered, shifting and rolling my hips.

Azriel groaned, the sound strangled and hoarse, his grip growing tighter, trying to pull me down as he threw his head back.

Sitting up slightly and pressing my hands onto his chest, I bit back a whimper as his cock slid through my folds again, the head nudging against my clit. I inhaled softly and sharply, my eyes fluttering as I stared at Azriel. His jaw was shifting, working as he gazed at me through hazy eyes, his fingers digging into my flesh so tightly, it would bruise.

I shifted my hips, then, slowly, I started moving, riding his cock sliding through my folds.

Azriel's heated gaze was fixed onto me, every muscle in his neck visible with strain, his chest solid with tension under my hands, so hard beneath me. I could feel his hips shifting, beginning to roll up to meet me, and a whimper built in my throat, my legs trembling when the head of his cock nudged against my clit, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through my body and making me throw my head back. A broken moan left me, and Azriel's eyes flashed.

My body slid back when he pushed himself up, his wings flaring, and my arms slid over his shoulders, my eyes rolling back when the angle shifted, his cock pushing against my clit and causing my insides to twitch as Azriel's lips crashed onto mine.

My heart swerved and soared, and Azriel dragged me closer, his hips rolling up into mine as his tongue twisted with mine, fingers digging into my waist, helping me sink up and down. My fingers dug into Azriel's hair and I kissed back, breathless, feverish, soft whimpers leaving me as my insides twisted and coiled, the friction tantalizing, not quite enough yet leaving my body twitching and writhing, too little yet too much at the same time, something building in my stomach, tighter, more fragile.

Azriel's fingers curled into my hair, pulling my head back, his lips dragged over my throat before he kissed my neck, deep, feverish; his arm tightened and pulled me down harder, and his voice reached me through the haze of pleasure, deep, low, vibrating through me in a hoarse order.

“Come for me.”

My insides twisted and shattered, and I arched into him, my muscles locking as my vision whitened and my body shuddered, became weightless, stars and matter and pleasure twisting through me until it was the only thing in existence.

I woke with a familiar scent filling my lungs.

My muddled senses needed a moment to catch up, understand why it felt like the warm, solid surface I was draped over was moving; rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Then something in my chest dipped over.

I was sprawled over a warm body. My hands clinging to wide shoulders, face buried in the crook of a neck – and an arm wound around my waist, keeping me from sliding away to the side, holding me, just tightly enough.

My heart dipped and swerved, and I hesitated. Then I carefully raised my head, and my breath got caught in my throat.

Azriel's eyes were closed. He looked strange like this – unscowling, completely relaxed, off guard. No deep crease between his brows, jaw relaxed, lips parted slightly as he breathed steadily. He still looked a little sallow, but color was slowly returning to his cheeks. I could feel the calm rise and fall of his chest, moving my own as my gaze dragged over his dark lashes fanned against his skin.

I blinked, my heart skipped into my throat, and I carefully pulled my arms off his shoulders to slide off him, but Azriel's grip around my waist tightened, and a soft growl rumbled through his chest.

My gaze darted up, and my heart rose again when his eyes opened, the golden flecks in his tired iris melting together as Azriel glared at me.

Don't you dare move, his eyes seemed to say, and my breath hitched.

Barely suppressing the urge to swallow, I stared at him, my heart skipping high, and Azriel stared back, tired but steady, watchful. His eyes dragged over my face, and something twisted in my chest.

Even with tangled, messy hair and dark bags under his eyes, he was beautiful. So much so, it caused something to ache under my ribs.

Swallowing softly, I carefully rested my chin back on his chest and traced the pale shadow of freckles scattered over his nose with my eyes. Azriel's fingers started to slowly brush up and down my side. His touch was featherlight, causing waves of shivers to travel through my body as his eyes pierced my face, some of that flaring heat returning to his iris, and something pulsed in my chest. Warm, all-consuming; a rising feeling that seemed to seep into my whole body the longer I stared back at him, that raged and flared. And suddenly, something dipped over in my chest.

My breath hitched, and my heart dropped.

Oh.

I blinked, then I quickly turned my eyes away.

Suddenly, something was tightening around my throat.

Barely suppressing the urge to swallow, I pried myself out of Azriel's arm, its weight suddenly suffocating. Wrapping myself into a fur, I slid off the mattress, barely noticing the coolness of the floorboards under my bare feet.

Dread crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Shit.

I could feel Azriel's gaze on me, could see it sharpening from the corner of my eye as he straightened slowly, watching me silently. But I pretended not to notice, instead curling up tighter in the furs and shivering as I moved towards the fireplace where the last remaining embers were glowing gently. My eyes got caught at one of the windows, and something dipped in my chest.

Through the cracks in the shutters, I could see the first pale streaks of daylight. And suddenly, I realised how quiet it was. No rattling, no howling of wind.

In the soft blue light, the thick falling snow had turned into soft flocks, silently sailing to the ground. When I closed my fingers around my leathers, they were dry.

The storm was over.

“Our clothes are dry.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, unbothered and vibrating with the lightest hint of a cheeky smirk that found its way onto my face without me prompting it as I looked over my shoulder and raised a brow. “Looks like we're getting out of here. Thank the Gods; no more cuddling.” The last part, I mumbled as I turned back ahead, barely suppressing the urge to swallow as tightness grew in my chest.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel stare at me, and his eyes narrowed slowly. Then his voice vibrated through the cabin, deep, steady, matter-of-fact.

“You're scared.”

I stilled, and my heart dropped and fell. Then I turned to stare at him.

“What?”

Azriel rose to his feet, and I tried not to let my gaze dip, tried not to notice the way his muscles worked, his shoulders tense as his eyes pierced mine.

“You're scared.”

Something turned over in my chest.

Gods, how I hated him.

Hated how he could so easily read me when his face never gave away anything.

I tried to fight the pressure closing around my throat, that squeezing feeling under my ribs as I stared at him. Then I did the only thing I knew how to, the only thing that would make him stop looking at me like he did now and me forget what it was like when he stared at me like I might be beginning and end to everything.

Attack.

“I'm not scared.” I straightened, feeling my heart pound as I narrowed my eyes. “What is your problem? Because you clearly seem to have one. Specifically with me. What is it?” I raised my brows mockingly. “That I don't give a shit about control? That I can't just decide with my head, that I'm not all rational and controlled like you?”

Azriel's eyes flared.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.” His voice rumbled through the ground, so low and deep, it sent shivers down my spine. But I was too far gone.

Again, anger was flaring in my chest, raging, familiar – and finally something I could handle.

“It must be really fucking hard to always push everything down. Come on.” I glared at Azriel, feeling my lips curve into a bitter, challenging grin as I opened my arms lightly. “Get it all out! No one's here but me, and you seem to think I'm too emotional anyway, so you can't shock me! Hit me, shadowboy.”

Azriel was staring at me, his eyes blazing with fire, darkness swirling.

“What's getting the mighty shadowsinger into a twist, what's fucking with your head? Go on, enlighten me.” My breath was uneven as I balled my hands into fists, but Azriel just stared at me, completely silent.

Something twisted in my chest, and I screamed: “What's your fucking problem?!”

“That I cannot think straight with you around!!”

Azriel's thundering voice shook the cabin, and my breath caught in my throat.

My heart dropped. Then it stilled.

“What do you think why you're so fucking irritating to me?” Azriel's flaring eyes narrowed in on me as he stalked forward.

“You're under my skin, always. And I just can't seem to get you out. No matter what I do, you invade every fiber of my being, with nothing but a look or a touch or just your fucking presence in the room.” His iris was blazing. “You make me loose focus, you make thinking slow and impossible, and that's dangerous. Because I can't be distracted, because distraction means missing things, it means death. It nearly fucking killed the both of us! And yet, all I can do is find ways to focus on both you and everything else, because just the thought of not having you around makes me loose my fucking mind.”

His jaw tightened, causing the muscles in his cheek to shift as he pinned me to the spot with burning eyes.

“You are a weak spot in walls I spent centuries building, and I'm still drawn to you like a moth to a fucking flame, because just thinking about staying away from you makes me ache. Because being near you makes everything finally make sense.”

Suddenly, breathing felt impossible.

My voice shook as I tried to latch onto something, anything. “Then why are you still always so fucking irritating -”

“Because you are stubborn and reckless,”, Azriel prowled towards me, his eyes flaring, “and you give me a heartattack every time you decide to tempt fate with that godsdamned smile!” He stopped himself short, jaw clenched and hands tightening into fists as he stared at me, gaze blazing. “Because you annoy the shit out of me, always challenging me. Make me jealous, because you see the good in people where I can only see the bad, because you have that godsdamned beautiful mind that twists everything into a plan, because you can bring people to their knees with just a grin.” His eyes flared. “Because it drives me mad how you look at me and how I seem to lose any ounce of control over myself whenever you're near. Because every time you grin at me, I need every wall I ever built to keep myself from pulling you into the nearest room to kiss you, fuck you until I'm the only one you´ll ever look at like that.”

I stared at him, feeling my heart flutter against my ribs like a caged bird while my breath hitched in my throat and my whole body tingled.

Azriel's jaw worked, his eyes burning amber as they pierced mine.

“You are my problem. Because you´re all I can think of, always. And I can't change it.” His gaze flared. “I don't want to change it.” He stared at me, and it almost looked like he was trying not to swallow as his eyes dragged over my face. “Not anymore. Not now that I know that I am under your skin exactly like you are under mine.”

My heart dropped, and I blinked.

“I don't –“

Azriel moved, and my breath caught in my throat, my heart toppling and rising when he stalked towards me, his eyes flaring.

“You don't what?” His gaze pierced mine, something swirling in its raging depths. “Don't know what I´m talking about?” Azriel's jaw worked, and he dipped his head to stare at me, iris blazing. “You know exactly what I'm talking about. And it scares the hell out of you.” His throat worked, then Az shook his head a little. “But I won't let you push me away just because you're scared.”

I swallowed, something pulsing under my ribs as I stared up at him, and Azriel stared back, steady, stubborn, unshakable.

“I'm not scared.” Somehow, my voice shook only a little, even as I felt something close around my throat. But I refused to back away, my fingers tightening around the furs wrapped around me as I glared up at Azriel, defiant, and just as stubborn.

Azriel's gaze burned into mine, and I knew, knew just from the way he didn't back down, just towered over me silently as his eyes steadily pierced mine, that he knew just as well as I did that I was lying through my teeth.

And that he could see right past the anger and defiance down to the reason why my heart was pounding painfully against my ribs.

I was scared.

I was terrified.

Because in the span of a night, my traitor of a heart had become his. Maybe parts of it had already belonged to him before, but everything that had happened since we had left for the mountains yesterday, everything I had said and everything Azriel had let slip through the cracks of his armor before laying it all out before me – had caused something to click into place.

Azriel, who never talked about anything that happened inside of him, had offered me everything. And it scared the crap out of me.

The shadowsinger blinked, and something softened in his stance, his shoulders dropping at little.

“Go on.” He stared at me, calm, steady. “Push me away. Scream at me.” A muscle in his jaw shifted as his gaze dragged over me face, and his deep voice was a little hoarse when he mumbled: “I'm still yours. The same way you're mine. Every bone in my body, every fiber of my soul. No matter what you throw at me. It all belongs to you anway. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Heavy pressure built in my chest as I stared up at him, clinging to the furs wrapped around me, and Azriel stared back, stubborn, firm, eyes swirling with a flaring blaze of emotion. Want mixed with need, hunger, hesitation and determination, and something else. Something that was burning and deep and all consuming, and that made my heart pulse against my ribs.

All out on the open.

Swallowing, I blinked and tore my eyes away from Azriel, pulling my pants from the back of the chair.

Carefully, I unbolted the door and dragged it open, moving back lightly when snow tumbled over the floorboards, down from where it had covered the porch; so high, it reached past my knee.

Slowly beginning to plow my way across the porch and down the steps, I breathed in the icy cold air and felt something in my chest tighten softly at sight of the pale blue light, the clouds opening over the mountains in the distance, allowing rays of thin morning light to filter over the woods. Snowflakes sailed silently to the ground, a few landing on my hair and nose, and I swallowed and tipped my head back to hold my face into the cold for a moment.

There was the sound of the door being pulled shut behind me, and when I looked over my shoulder, Azriel moved through the thick layer of snow on the porch, sheathing Truthteller. His eyes were piercing against the snow, his wings still patched up but the swelling going down.

He was still not back to his usual full strength, but it would be enough to winnow us back to Velaris.

Azriel's gaze found mine, and I quickly looked away when my heart rose against my ribs.

Something dipped gently in my chest as I stared up at the snowladen roof of the cabin, and I barely suppressed the urge to swallow.

Azriel moved down the steps, brows crunched against the snow sailing to the ground. He opened his mouth when a cold shiver slid down my back.

The hair at the nape of my neck rose. Something icy closed around my chest, and I turned around, my heart beginning to thump against my ribs as my gaze flitted over the still dark space between the trees.

“What?” Azriel's deep voice washed over me, and from the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders tense.

I felt the whizzing sensation a second before an arm wrapped around my waist and hauled me out of the way.

A soft sound broke from my throat; my head whipped up, and my heart stilled, time slowing for a few heartbeats when I found Azriel's face an inch away, gaze piercing mine, his grip vice-like around me as my fingers dug into his biceps. Then his gaze moved upwards, and a deep, rumbling snarl built in his throat as his blazing eyes fixed onto the ash arrow that trembled in the railing of the porch where I had just stood.

Azriel whipped around, and I caught movement at the edge of the woods, just twisting out of the way before another arrow sliced through the air; I slid my swords out of their sheaths and turned with an angry growl, and quick and silent like shadows, dark shapes melted out of the treeline and stormed towards us.

I dodged the first blade slicing down through the air, catching it with my own swords and spun around, my blades barely missing the male's throat. He was too quick though, moving and ducking smoothly, and I slid through the snow, whirling up clouds of white as I pushed myself back onto my feet and turned, dodging and catching blades with mine, the impact vibrating through my bones. I caught a glimpse at swirling darkness and Azriel, his shadows whipping out, protecting him. But even though he was swift and agile, I could see he wasn't up to his usual strength, his eyes blazing with fury and snow clinging to his hair.

I dropped and whirled through the snow, slicing my swords over the back of two soldier's legs, causing them to collapse with deep groans, and I shot to my feet, my eyes meeting amber ones for the fraction of a second, deep and dark.

We had to get out of here.

Azriel snarled and kicked back a soldier storming towards him, his shadows whipping out in a wall as he turned, and I dodged a sword swiping down at me, trying to dart towards him. But as one, the soldiers seemed to understand and moved in, cutting off my path and driving us back.

It started a dangerous game. Again and again, they pushed us apart, attacking from all sides. They moved quickly, even in the deep snow, swift and coordinated, keeping Azriel from getting to me and me from getting to him. The shadowsinger's eyes were blazing with fury, his face twisted into a snarl, but every time I caught a glimpse at him, I saw his shadows protecting him from blows he would have easily dodged normally, saw his neck straining in a fight he would have usually finished within minutes.

The soldiers caught on as well. Their attacks became quicker, more daring, and something in my chest started rising. Began to pulse under my ribs, sent strength into my arms and hands, and fury made me snarl as I pushed against the cold and whirled around.

My blades slid over one soldier's throat, muscles working as I dodged another one's blow and sunk my blades into his chest, pushing and pulling them out, turning and slicing my swords over another male's arm before whirling around and sinking my blade into his neck, fighting my way towards the tall, towering figure shrouded in darkness. Azriel sliced his daggers over a male's throat before turning, I threw out my arm to grasp his hand and saw his shadows rising –

Something struck my back, throwing my body forward slightly.

My heart pulsed once in surprise. Then it slowed, and cold trickled over my spine.

I raised my head, and the world seemed to slow around me as pain lazily flooded my system. My gaze swept over the snow like caught in time before meeting another, gold like amber.

The pain spread, from the throbbing point in my back to my chest, and my vision swam, the world tilting around me. The amber eyes widened slowly as the snowed in earth closed in on me. Then my body hit the ground, the impact shaking my vision as the pain slowly grew more distant.

I caught one more glimpse at the amber eyes, in a face beautiful like death, filled with terror and raging fury before beginning to blaze with something so terrible, my heart shuddered. Then darkness exploded, and my eyes slid close.

I slipped into a strange, drowsy state where the world was vague and fuzzy. My eyes were too heavy to stay open, refusing my foggy mind's control, my limbs too tired to move. Sometimes, everything around me seemed just close enough to almost grasp it, but my body was too slow, too far away from my conciousness.

The pain was blurry. There was lots of it, radiating from my chest, drowning out anything else. I could feel hands, cradling my face, rough and scarred, a deep voice reaching through the fog, tense and panicked as something warm tugged frantically in my chest.

Then I was lifted off the cold, wet ground, into arms that smelled metallic like blood and like night chill and cedar underneath, their grip careful as they hoisted me up higher, adjusting me until I could feel my head roll to the side against a solid shoulder. Then the cool of shadows enveloped us.

I might have slipped away after. Time felt strange, sliding through my fingers, difficult to keep up with. I caught glimpses of a familiar foyer, and felt the deep voice vibrate through me, calling for someone, urgent, thundering, making something in my chest tighten. There were familiar scents washing over me, more voices, and a low snarl when hands slipped under me, the arms around me tightening their grip.

The pain grew, flaring through my body. It ripped me out of my head enough to feel the soft mattress beneath me, the scent filling my lungs, and the forehead pressed against my temple. It grew until it became almost unbearable, until my body did listen, twisting and writhing, a whimper tearing from my throat at the gentle hands pressed to the middle of my chest that felt like it was on fire. The dark presence at my side was gone, and I faintly caught onto a scuffle a bit away, and two other voices, talking against a deep growl.

After that, pain and exhaustion overwhelmed me. I only caught one more glimpse at the room, now quiet and calm, and fingers, long and slender and rough, wrapped around mine, something cool whispering over my cheeks, and the voice again, causing something to pulse gently against my ribs. It was vibrating with something I had never heard before now.

Beneath the fury, the anger and deep searing rage, there was fear.

“- you're not leaving me. Not now; there's no world in which you're not going to put up a fight and come back to me –“

Another voice, rich and smooth, interruped him, and I dozed off before I could try and squeeze his hand.

When I finally woke up, I felt like someone had dropped me midflight.

A soft garbled sound broke from my throat, somewhere close to a hoarse “Ow.”, and there was a quick call of my name somewhere to my right, deep and rumbling and soothingly familiar.

I blinked, feeling my brows crunch as my eyes tried to get used to the soft lighting. My chest was thumping like a second heartbeat, like someone had sent me flying with a kick powerful enough to split a boulder.

My head was heavy, and it took a while until the hazyness had drifted away enough for my gaze to focus onto a ceiling. My mind, still foggy, needed a moment to follow as my eyes drifted lower, over dark sheets which smelled achingly familiar and a room I didn't know. The curtains were drawn, there were bloodied bandages piled on the nightstand next to a bowl with pinkish water and bowls with tinctures. Then I caught movement at the corner of my eye, and when my head rolled to the side tiredly, my eyes met warm brown ones that slowly started to crinkle.

My heart squeezed tiredly, and Cassian sent me a slow, toothy grin.

"There you are.”

I softly crunched my brows and opened my mouth, but the words got stuck in my throat, my tongue dry like parchment. My whole chest ached like I hadn't tasted a sip of water in centuries, and I winced and shifted, trying to sit up.

“Careful, you just nearly died, take it slow.” A big, calloused hand slipped under my arm and helped me move until I was propped up on my side. My eyes landed on the pitcher with water on the night stand, and Cassian clearly read the desperation in my eyes, because he quickly filled a glass and handed it to me. My fingers grasped the cold crystal, almost slipping, and Cassian steadied it, helping me gulp down all of it before refilling it.

After I had guzzled down another full glas, he sent me a smirk. “Better?”

I breathed out before slowly sitting up fully, wincing softly. My chest felt sore, like one big bruise, and when I dipped my head, I caught a glimpse at bandages wrapped over my chest beneath the wide shirt I was wearing.

Shifting, I straightened, feeling my brows furrow as my eyes moved over the room we were in. I knew it was the townhouse, but not the guestroom I had stayed in before, nor any of the other rooms I knew. It was dark and clean but warm and homely, with books sitting next to the fireplace, the armchair pulled up next to the bed –

Something dipped under my ribs when I recognized the scent filling my lungs.

My heart swerved and fell, and my gaze darted over to Cassian, something suddenly weighing harshly on my chest as my hoarse voice rasped through my throat.

“Where's Azriel?”

Cassian stared at me, and one corner of his lips slowly quirked upwards, like he was wondering whether I had hit my head.

“What?!” I felt my heart pulse harshly.

Cass blinked.

“He's fine.” Placing the glass back on the nightstand, he huffed softly and raised his brows, the curve of his lips deepening into a smirk. “Though I would really like to know what happened in that forest now.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel heat threatening to flood my cheeks, but that rising feeling in my chest was too forceful to let me linger on it.

“Why?” My gaze darted over Cassian's face, and he seemed to see the panic beginning to pulse under my ribs, because he blinked again, one corner of his lips tipping up in a light grin.

“Because in 400 years, I've not once seen him like this. He wouldn't leave your side, didn't eat, didn't sleep, he barely let anyone touch you, snarled at anyone who got too close to you –“ He huffed. “Rhys actually had to knock him out so he could get some rest because he just refused to even take a nap, let alone leave the room –“

My heart dropped and swerved, and suddenly, something closed around my throat.

I blinked, then I turned and slid off the mattress. The world swayed a little when I pushed myself to my feet, but I held onto the bedpost.

“Where is he?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Cass straightening as I looked around for pants, his brows crunching as he squinted in soft concern.

“Are you sure you –“

I whirled around to glare at him, something squeezing tightly under my ribs.

“Where is he?!”

Cassian stared at me, and one corner of his lips ticked up in a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Guestroom.“

I turned around and darted towards the door. I just heard his soft huff, then I was out in the corridor.

It was clear my body wasn't ready to be moving quickly yet. I almost stumbled before reaching the stairs, an ache settling in my chest and knees wobbling, but I pushed against it. Hurrying down the stairs, my bare feet flying over the steps, my fingers gripped the banister as I skidded around the corner of the landing and down another flight of stairs into a long hallway, and –

Behind me, a door was ripped open, and when I whirled around, my breath caught in my throat.

My heart skipped once, then it settled.

Azriel stilled. His wild gaze raced over me, tracking over the huge shirt and my bare legs, my hair that had come undone, and something deepened in his stare, became dark and blazing. In turn, my eyes flitted over him, drinking him in, tall and towering as always, hair tousled but clean, shoulders tense and still under his loose shirt, and something twinged in my chest, rising and pulsing as his eyes settled on mine.

Azriel's iris flared and his jaw shifted. Something that looked like desperation crossed over his face, followed by something heated and all consuming. Then he moved, stalking towards me.

My feet unfroze, and before thinking about it, without needing to, I darted forward, racing to meet him.

The impact of my body crashing into Azriel's should have sent him stumbling. But he stayed steady like a rock, scooping me up into his arms as mine wrapped around his neck, clinging to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, a tremble running through me.

My heart squeezed, so harshly, my breath hitched in a soft sound, and Azriel pulled me closer like he'd felt it, tension keeping his body taut as he slid his arms around me until there was no place I couldn't feel him, his tall body curving as he dragged me up and into his chest and dropped his head to bury his face in the crook of my neck.

Something turned in my chest, warm and aching, and I clung to him, heat rising and pulsing under my ribs when I squeezed my eyes shut quickly and tried to breathe past the tremble in my body, a tightness in my throat as I pressed my face into his neck, his scent flowing into my nose and causing my heart to rise.

“You're okay.” Azriel's voice vibrated through me, deep, low, hoarse, leaving something squeezing in my chest as his hand closed around the back of my head, holding me to him. His arm tightened its grip around my waist until I nodded into his neck, wrapping my arms closer around his shoulders, my fingers sinking into his hair.

Azriel made a soft noise deep in his chest, pressing his nose into my skin, and I felt his shoulders sag. His body melted into mine, his wings shuddered, and something turned over in my chest, beginning to flutter quickly when he slid his arms tighter around me, pulling me further into his chest.

We didn't move until my calves started aching from holding my weight up on my toes and I slowly dropped back onto my heels. Azriel's arm slid off my waist, and when I raised my head, his rough hands slipped up to cradle my neck, tipping my head up. His eyes pierced mine as his throat worked, jaw shifting, his amber eyes swirling like a storm, and my breath hitched.

I barely noticed the heavy footsteps on the stairs until a deep, amused voice sounded somewhere behind me.

“Nice panties, sweetheart.”

Azriel's head whipped up, his eyes flared, and a deep growl vibrated through his chest.

There was a low chuckle.

“Alright, I'm going, I'm going –“

Azriel glared over my head until heavy footsteps moved towards the stairs, and when I threw a quick look over my shoulder, Cassian sent me a smirk and a playful wink.

There was a soft soft snarl rumbling in Azriel's chest, and Cass snickered and turned, disappearing down the stairs without a care.

Tension radiated through Azriel's body until Cassian's footsteps faded away, his eyes glaring at the spot he'd stood in. It caused something to dip in my chest, and I hesitated, slowly moving back a little and swallowing as I looked up at him only to find his eyes on me again, watching me, steady, deep, his gaze swirling with a tumble of emotion.

Something rose under my ribs, fluttering wildly, and my breath caught in my throat. Suddenly, my heart was thumping harshly.

Like he could sense it, felt the same sensation pulling at his chest, Azriel's gaze shifted, became molten and soft. Then he straightened, and his hands slid away from my body without pressure, leaving me close enough I could still feel the warmth radiating from his chest, feel him, but with enough space between us my thoughts slowly calmed enough to be steady.

My heart pulsed, and a gentle knot formed in my throat as I stared up at him.

My stomach twisted before letting out a soft rumble, and I blinked and made a face. Something tumbled against my ribs when I looked up at Azriel, feeling my brows draw together as I steeled myself, ready for him to go off, telling me I should've watched my back, had been reckless –

But Azriel's eyes just moved over my face, heated, dark, almost like he was drinking me in. Then he blinked, and one corner of his lips twitched just barely.

“Put on some pants.”

The door to the kitchen was open, and I heard voices, but I was too distracted by the delicious scent whafting through the hall to really focus on it. My stomach grumbled and twisted, and when I breathed in deeply, my eyes fluttered and I almost melted on the spot. My gaze immediately narrowed in onto the steaming pots on the stove and the smells lacing the air, causing a soft whine to break from my throat.

“Easy, sweetheart.” Cassian's deep voice ripped me out of the haze. “No one's gonna wolf it all down in the next few minutes, there's plenty left for you. You look like you're ready to take a bite out of anyone in the way to those pots.”

Somehow tearing my gaze away from the food, I started to scowl at the Lord of Bloodshed who was lounging on one of the chairs at the big table, just winking at me with a shit-eating grin.

“Azriel.” Rhys, leaned back at the head of the table leisurely, stared over my shoulder, watchful, though with a slight quirk to his lips.

Something brushed against my shoulder, then Azriel appeared at the corner of my eye, towering, relaxed, just lightly raising a brow.

A twinkle formed in Rhys' eyes, and he nodded softly. Then his eyes turned towards me, darkness tapping against the walls of my mind.

“Are you alright?”

My stomach grumbled, and Rhys broke into a smirk.

“Nevermind.”

“Cassian, I want to see you after not eating for days.” Feyre's dry voice made me break my staring contest with the Lord of Bloodshed. I hadn't even noticed her standing over at the stove until she appeared in front of me and wrapped me up in a tight hug, squeezing me carefully.

“I'm glad you're awake,”, she mumbled into my shoulder, and something clenched gently in my chest as I quickly wrapped my arms around her and squeezed back.

“Me too,”, I whispered softly.

Something clattered, and just as I jumped lightly and tried to crane my neck, another body collided with mine, causing me to stumble into Feyre and a soft sound to leave me at the slight jab of pain pulsing through my ribs.

A familiar scent filled my nose, blond hair filled my vision, and there was a soft sound somewhere next to my ear.

“Hi,”, Mor mumbled into my neck, and I crunched my brows, managing to free one arm and reaching up to blindly pat her cheek, accidentally hitting her nose.

“Hi.”

Feyre pulled back, grinning, but Mor held onto me for another few seconds, squeezing tightly before pulling back enough to frown, quickly scanning me. “Are you okay?”

My stomach grumbled pitifully, and Cassian snorted softly.

“I'll get you something.” Feyre turned around, and Mor pressed a kiss onto my cheek and slipped past me, taking a seat at the table as Feyre filled a plate with mashed potatoes and stew, the smell nearly making me groan.

Feyre turned, and something warm brushed my side when Azriel moved past me. His scent rose into my nose, and my eyes strayed after him for a second until Feyre offered me the plate with a light grin.

I hesitated, my eyes flickering towards the table.

The distance between every free seat and Azriel, who had moved to the other side of the kitchen, closing the pots before turning to lean against the counter, caused a soft, highly irrational but very real ache to pulse through my chest.

My heart thrummed once.

I blinked and accepted the plate, and before I could change my mind, I slipped past Feyre, moving past the table and making my way over to the counter.

I could feel Azriel's eyes on me as I placed my plate on the marble and pulled a crystal glass and a decanter towards me.

Hesitating for a second, I turned my head just a little.

The shadowsinger's gaze pierced mine, steady, calm. His wing nearly brushed my shoulder, and I could feel whisps of darkness gently grazing my ankles before wrapping around them like a soft greeting. His shoulders looked more relaxed than a second ago, and his golden eyes slowly flickered over mine.

My heart squeezed gently, and warmth slowly spread through my chest.

Because even though Azriel just looked at me, I knew the thought of me taking the seat at the table had caused the same unease in his chest it had sparked in mine.

Blinking, I turned my gaze back ahead, pouring a generous amount of liquid into my glass and trying to swallow against the something fluttering in my throat.

I was sure Madja would have a choice of words about me drinking alcohol, my body barely over the effect of the herbs she'd used to speed up my healing.

But I really needed a drink.

Turning, I pulled myself up onto the smooth marble, wincing a little at the twinge under my ribs before picking up the glass. But before I could raise it towards my lips, it was plucked out of my fingers.

My eyes snapped up and narrowed in an incredulous scowl, and Azriel glared back.

For a second, we just glowered at each other, irritation rising and swarming under my ribs. But instead of consuming me like it always had, causing me to snap or shoot a sharp, challenging remark his way, it was quickly swallowed.

Drowned by something else that rose in my chest as I stared into Azriel's eyes, something warm and pulsing that made my heart skip and breath hitch, and suddenly, my lips curved upwards until I couldn't stop them from twitching lightly.

Azriel's gaze shifted, narrowed in, and a slow twinkle spread through his iris.

For another moment, we stared at each other while I tried to ignore the growing flutter in my chest, the hitch in my breath and the skip of my heart. Then I forced my gaze away from Azriel's, turning it back ahead – and stilling.

Everyone in the kitchen was staring at Azriel and me. Mor's brows were crunched, eyes narrowed as one corner of her lips curved upwards in disbelief. Feyre blinked, looking torn between bafflement and a strange kind of elation, and Cassian's eyebrows were raised impressively high. Rhys' eyes were twinkling.

I blinked and frowned.

“What?”

My stomach grumbled, and shrugging, I pulled up my legs and crossed them. Then, ignoring Mor´s slightly pained look towards my socks resting on the polished marble, I started digging in.

I didn't listen to anything until half the plate was polished off. Only then, the ache in my stomach lessened, had I relaxed enough to actually tune into the conversation.

“ – so Mor is winnowing over before the rest of us to make sure everything is ready for tonight.”

I crunched my brows and slowed my chewing.

Tonight?

“What's tonight?”, I mumbled around a mouth full of potato.

“The masquerade.” Feyre sent me a light, mischievous grin, and I blinked.

“That's tonight?”

Once a year, Rhys threw a masquerade ball in the halls of the palace in the Court of Nightmares. On the outside, it was to keep the residents in his favor, and to remind him of their High Lord´s power. The masks usually came off quite quickly, and it became the occasion to reevaluate knowledge.

It was a night where the rich and powerful of the Court of Nightmares gathered for lavish entertainment and other enjoyments in the palace, where Rhys and Feyre played the role of the ruthless rulers, and the rest of us slipped into the crowd, taking the opportunity of the most influencial of the Hewn City residents all in one place to listen. Wine loosened the tongue, and with so many people with big egos and a distaste for their High Lord in one place, one learned a lot once the entertainment was flowing, the last of the inhibitions were thrown away for the night and challenges were made.

“It is, and we all can hardly wait.” Cassian was smirking as he got to his feet. Sauntering over, he picked up my abandoned glass before reaching towards my plate -

I growled, and Cassian chuckled easily, his eyes twinkling as he shrugged and turned around, chugging down the liquid.

Glaring after him, I turned my attention back to my plate, but my gaze got caught on Azriel.

Cassian's voice echoed through my head.

“He didn't eat, didn't sleep –“

Something tightened in my chest.

Blinking, I slid one of my legs off the counter and softly nudged the side of Azriel's thigh with my foot. He turned his head towards me, and wordlessly, I ladled some potato and sauce onto my spoon and held it out towards him.

Azriel's gaze flickered down towards the food and then back up towards me, and I narrowed my eyes, glaring at him.

I know you haven't eaten. Take it, now.

The shadowsinger's gaze shifted, became deep and twinkling as it narrowed in onto mine. Then he dipped his head, and my heart skipped softly as I held the spoon steady until he straightened again, chewing and swallowing. Something rose and fluttered under my ribs, and I had to fight the way my lips curved.

It took a heartbeat until I realized the kitchen had quieted down.

I blinked, then I looked back ahead.

If the others had been staring before, they were positively gaping now.

“What?” I stared back indignantly, trying to fight the way my ears heated as I glowered at them before turning back towards my plate.

Rhys cleared his throat, his eyes twinkling as he turned back towards the others. Cassian glowered at me and my plate for another second, then he huffed and shook his head, his lips twitching upwards.

“Anyway.” Mor smiled, wrily, prettily. “Seems like this time, I'm going to have to charm the lovely souls by myself.”

I felt my brows crunch. “No, no; I'm coming.”

The others exchanged a look, then Feyre's brows furrowed gently.

“Are you sure?”

I huffed. “I am sure that Mor can not work the whole room herself. Madja can check me if you want, but I'm fine. I'll manage an evening smiling prettily and not stabbing anyone." I felt my lips quirk. "And unless you want to make Cassian wear a revealing dress to charm some stuck up assholes, you need me, so I am coming.”

Rhys chuckled. “I think she'll be fine.”

Cassian smirked, dragging his eyes over me. “More than fine.”

There was a soft growl next to me, my heart skipped high, and when my gaze flew over, Azriel was staring at Cassian. His eyes were flaring, but Cassian just winked at him, his eyes alight with mischief.

Rhys cleared his throat. If possible, his violet eyes twinkled even more than Cassian's as he lightly raised a brow at his Spymaster.

“Alright…” Mor squinted, her brows crunching. “I guess that's settled then?”

My eyes flickered over the side of Azriel's face, something shifting in my chest as I waited for the inevitable scowl, dark narrowed eyes, and glare towards me followed by stating how reckless me going so shortly after having only just started recovering would be.

But Azriel just leaned against the counter, his shadows gently swirling around my ankle as he turned his head, his golden eyes steadily piercing mine.

"But you'll see Madja before you go.”

Blinking and tearing my gaze away from Azriel's, I found Feyre staring at me, and I felt my lips curve mischievously as I widened my eyes.

“I will. And I will go on bedrest for the next week, if you want me to.” I turned back towards my plate, mumbling: “I'll probably have to, just to recover from all the bullshit we'll have to listen to tonight.”

“Then it is settled.” Rhys leaned back, his arm lazily perched on the back of Feyre's chair. “Anything else?”

Mor started talking about the masks and clothes that would be waiting at Hewn City, and I focused back on my food. Shadows slowly brushed around my ankle as once in a while, I held a spoon out to Azriel.

Carefully, I straightened the straps of my dress, then I raised my head.

Madja had cleared me to go, with reservation, a grouchy look and the order to not strain the scar that had come to light once she had taken off the bandages. It was still fresh, and pulled lightly when I moved in certain ways, but apart from the fact that my chest still felt a little bruised, I was as good as new.

Mostly.

Mor had winnowed the both of us into the Hewn City right after to make sure everything was going to plan. Now, I was standing in my room in the castle deep under the mountain, held in rich dark colors and fairly unused. The wardrobe was filled with dresses that fit the fashion down here, with little fabric and little color. Mor had given me my mask, black intricate swirls that laid snug on my skin, covering the upper part of my face. I had chosen a fitting dress, made from silk that was black like the night, long and sleek, with slits that reached the top of my thighs and bared my legs, and a low neckline.

The little fabric took getting used to, but at least it meant there wasn't a lot to restrict movement.

Picking up a pair of shoes with sturdy, high heels, I sat down on the edge of the bed, sliding my foot into one of them. Wincing at the soft twinge in my chest, I started to tightly lace the shoe to my foot.

It took me slightly longer than usual, the pull of the scar making me sit up half way through and huff a breath out of my nose.

I was getting ready to start lacing the second when the air shifted.

My gaze darted up, darkness rose, and Azriel stepped out of the shadows.

My heart dipped, and my breath caught in my throat. He was wearing his leathers, the shoulder plates shimmering in the firelight, fingerless gloves slipped over his hands, Truthteller strapped to his leg. His eyes flickered golden as I slowly straightened, trying to suppress the urge to swallow, something fluttering high in my chest.

Azriel's gaze flickered down my body, and something twisted in my stomach when his gaze became deeper, more heated.

My skin tingled, and his eyes returned to mine, dark and piercing. Then he moved.

His footsteps were silent, swallowed by the carpet, shadows swishing softly and brushing gently over my bare skin as he moved towards me, eyes piercing mine. The closer he got, the harsher the flutter in my chest got, the stronger the rising feeling. Then Azriel reached the end of the bed.

His scent washed over me, and my breath caught in my throat when he leaned down and, without hesitation, dropped onto one knee.

My heart rose. Then it stilled.

Scarred fingers, calloused and warm, slipped around my ankle, and Azriel lifted my leg, placing the foot with the unlaced heel on his bowed knee. His fingers skimmed up my ankle, picking up the laces, and without even throwing me a look, he started wrapping them around my calf, his knuckles brushing my skin.

I swallowed, trying to fight against the weight that had suddenly closed around my throat as I stared at his face, like carved from shadows, both soft and sharp at the same time. His muscles shifted under his leathers, stance steady, and somehow, I found my voice, surprisingly firm, and a little defiant.

“Aren't you going to tell me that this is reckless, considering I've just been shot?”

I barely suppressed a shudder when Azriel's fingers dragged down the side of my ankle, something twisting in my lower stomach.

“Even if I did tell you that you could do with some rest instead of this, it wouldn't stop you.” Azriel's deep voice was slow, steady, sounding a little irritated and, at the same time, almost reluctantly amused.

My breath hitched.

The shadowsinger carefully tied up the laces before raising his head, and there was a barely there twinkle to his iris as his gaze dragged over my face. “If anything, you'd want to do it even more just to piss me off.”

I huffed and narrowed my eyes, and the corner of Azriel's lips curved just the lightest bit.

Trying not to swallow, I stared at him.

“If you know that, why did you still always push?”

Azriel's eyes pierced mine, and his voice sent shivers over my spine, low, deep, steady.

“Because I lose every ounce of control and logic around you. Because some twisted part of me liked that you pushed back, never backed down, not even from me." His jaw shifted. "Because it pisses me off how easily you're willing to put yourself in danger for someone else.” His gaze dragged over my face, blazing slightly. “Because being mad at you for doing that was easier than admitting why it bothers me so fucking much in the first place.”

My heart was rising under my ribs, pulsing harshly.

“Why does it bother you?”, I whispered.

Azriel's eyes became molten, and his voice vibrated through me, almost strained.

“Because just the thought of you getting hurt makes me lose my fucking mind.”

I stared back at him, something churning in my chest.

The next words tumbled from my lips slightly pressed.

“Are you telling me all of this because you think you need to prove something?”

Something in Azriel's iris flared, became piercing.

“I'm telling you because I was a fool for not doing it before. And because I will never hide how I feel about you from you again.” A muscle in his jaw shifted, his deep voice a little rough when he mumbled: “That already cost me enough.”

This time, I did swallow, harsh and slow.

Silence settled over the room as Azriel and I stared at each other. Almost on eye level, my foot still sitting onto his knee, my shin almost touching his chest, I was close enough that I could feel him, could feel the strength in his body, the steadiness and weight of his stare.

Azriel's fingers, loosely wrapped around my calf, shifted, his thumb beginning to draw gentle, slow circles on my skin. Shadows whispered around the edge of my skirt, gently brushing over my legs, and Azriel blinked. His brows crunched a little, then he tipped his head to the side.

His hand loosened its grip on my ankle, rough skin brushing over mine, leaving goosebumps in its wake as Azriel moved his hand up over my knee and my thigh and carefully pulled the fabric of my dress to the side where the slit had hiked up and now almost reached the crease where my hip and thigh met – revealing silver daggers strapped to my leg.

Azriel's eyes grew deep and molten as his fingers traced my thigh, outlining one of the blades and causing my heart to catch in my throat. Then they rose to meet mine, and I swallowed softly and shrugged, feeling my lips curve cheekily.

“I've been told I have a tendency to be reckless and get myself into trouble.”

Azriel's gaze dragged over mine, heavy, blazing, and slowly, very slowly, one corner of his lips turned upwards.

Something in my chest pulsed. Then it rose in a wild flutter.

Azriel's hand slipped down again, sliding into the crook of my knee. His thumb slowly traced over my skin, and shivers travelled up my body, causing my heart to swell and flutter. His eyes pierced mine, and something toppled in my chest at the heat flaring in his eyes, swirling with want and warmth and longing, and something else so deep and all consuming, my breath trembled.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say something; what, I wasn't really sure myself, there was a light knock against the door.

I jumped slightly, tearing my gaze away from Azriel's just in time to hear Mor's voice sound through the wood.

“It's me. Are you ready?”

Azriel's hand lifted my leg, and when my eyes darted back towards him, he carefully placed my foot on the floor before rising to his full height. His eyes met mine, molten gold, then he held out a hand.

Swallowing softly and feeling my brows crease, I slid my fingers over his palm, and Azriel pulled me to my feet. His hand slipped out of mine, then it slid around my waist, turning me around.

My breath caught in my throat when Azriel's chest brushed against my back, shadows whispering around me. Then something dark was lowered over my face, and when I reached up in reflex, my fingers brushed over soft material, molding to my face until only my eyes were uncovered.

Fingers brushed my temple, then Azriel tied the black silk ribbon at the back of my head. My heart thrummed against my ribs when I quickly looked up at him over my shoulder, and Azriel's breath fanned over my skin when he dipped his head lightly, his dark eyes steadily piercing mine, his low voice a little hoarse when he mumbled: “Every bone in my body."

My breath faltered, simply ceased as my heart rose, and shadows swallowed Azriel, leaving only a few to gently curl around my wrists, sliding between my fingers.

Every fiber of my soul.

All yours.

The revel had already been well underway when Mor and I had entered the throne room.

Masked Fae were everywhere, dressed so scantily, some wore basically nothing at all. The air was thick with fumes and alcohol, laughter loud over music and revel, the crowd parting only occasionally. Dancers grinding to the deep, compelling music, couples in dark corners, a few jugglers and flame breathers earning applause.

It had been easy to slip into the crowd without anyone even noticing. Move through the people, listening, smiling, charming, saving every bit of information to share later. I caught glimpses of Cassian, standing on the dais slightly behind the throne, watchful, his dark eyes flickering over the room, or a little behind Feyre and Rhys when they moved through the crowd, making conversation here and there, the picture of ruthlessness and beauty. Sometimes, my way crossed Mor's, her hair braided out of her face, her dark dress blending it seemlessly, exchanging information in soft whispers, or in taps against a wine glass.

I didn't see Azriel. But I felt him. Felt shadows brushing against my skin in the thick crowd, winding around my ankles gently, and eyes on me wherever I was in the room.

Plucking a glass from the tray of a nearby waiting faerie, I leaned against one of the huge columns lining the edge of the room, letting my gaze slowly trail over the crowd as I took a sip of wine. Ignoring the leering gazes from males passing, I swirled my wine around in my glass slowly and caught Mor's gaze over the crowd. She looked ready to roll her eyes at whatever nonsense the male next to her was spewing, her nails tapping against her arm even as she smiled at him, sweetly and charmingly.

Asshole.

Turning my eyes away with a suppressed grin, I contemplated diving into the crowd again when a voice whafted through the noise from somewhere on the other side of the pillar.

“ – these bastards in our city.”

I felt my brows furrow just barely and turned my head slightly, focusing on the snarling voice.

“Look at them. Parading around like we belong to them. Everyone knows none of us pledged loyalty to that half-breed.”

My spine bristled slightly.

Most inhabitants of the Hewn City shared a view towards Rhys.

Usually none of them were dumb enough to discuss these views out loud. Especially not when he was in the room.

But there were always the rogue ones foolish enough to think he wouldn't know.

Shifting lightly, I tilted my head to look around the pillar.

The owner of the drawling voice was standing in a small circle of males, looking like they'd all thoroughly enjoyed the debauchery and revel, wine glasses full, upper buttons undone and baring flushed necks. The male talking, tall, dark haired and handsome, stared towards the dais, a disgusted look in his eyes.

“Look at him and his whore. Protected by that bastard Illyrian.”

The hairs at the back of my neck rose, and I felt my eyes slowly narrow to slits as something hot began swirling slowly in my chest.

Careful now, sweetheart. You're about to get burned very badly by your own tongue.

“You can tell all about his judgement by the mutts he's surrounding himself with. Throwing this court to the dogs. Giving our females to those winged brutes.” The male scowled, his eyes blazing. “Lord of Bloodshed. Laughable. Nothing more than a bastard with a stolen title. Destroying our bloodlines by making our females spread their legs for his scum. Think of Keir's daughter. That bitch is now one of his.”

Something curled tightly in my chest, heat washing over me as I slowly placed my glass on a passing tray.

I'd heard enough.

If I didn't move away now, there was no guarantee I wouldn't forget about leaving this bastard to Rhys and go straight for the male's throat.

I got ready to slide into the crowd, pushing off the column to make my way over to the dais – when the male's slow drawl made me freeze in the spot.

“Don't get me started on the other one. Shadowsinger." He scoffed. "Nothing but a rabid dog on a leash. Have you seen his hands? It's grotesque. Here, something like that wouldn't carry weapons. It'd be tied up in a dungeon.”

The noise in the room faded away as something rose in my chest, deadly quiet.

It turned and twisted until blinding hot and pulsing. All reason slipped away, until the only thing left was the instinct to rip through the male's throat, tear him to shreds for the words he'd dared to speak.

My hand slipped into the slit of my dress, and my voice cut through the noise, the laughter and music.

“You know, you really should be careful.”

The males looked over their shoulders in surprise and disdain, and I slinked out of the shadows, feeling the rage pulse under my ribs as I leaned against the pillar, smiling wickedly. “Or you might be the one ending up in a dungeon.”

The dark haired male straightened slowly, a dark twinkle entering his gaze as it slowly dragged over my body. One corner of his lips curled into a leering smile, and he raised a brow.

“Worried about me, sweetheart?”

A snarl built in my throat, but I fixed it into a grin before tipping my head to the side and furrowing my brows innocently. “Can you blame me? I've heard it's garstly down there. So dark and cold. Isn't it true even the Darkbringers are frightened of going down there?”

The male smirked, eyes following the curve of my body. “We're not frightened of anything.”

I slowly started to smile widely.

“Really?” I crunched my brows and pouted softly, feeling my lips twitch mischievously as I looked up at him through my lashes. “Why's a tough male like you just standing around here all on your lonesome?”

The dark haired male's smirk deepend, but before he could open his mouth, I narrowed my eyes at him in thought, the corner of my lips curving wickedly.

“Is it because you manage to light such fireworks of warmth and kindness?” Mockingly, I raised a brow, my lips twitching. “Every female must love that. The arrogance. The cruelty, the cowardice. The lack of respect for anyone you deem below you, when really you are the one proving just how little respect you deserve. The brashness, the cockiness.” I grinned viciously, letting my gaze drag slowly over his body until it rested below his belt. “Well, maybe you're just trying to make up for lacking something in – other departments.”

The males looked amusingly shocked for a second. Then the dark haired one slowly slipped into a menacing snarl.

“You –“

“You know, I think I got it.” I pushed off the pillar and slid my fingers under the silk band of my mask. “Maybe us females that spread our legs for those bastards…“, I pulled, and the fabric slid off my face as I smiled wickedly, “are just simply sick of the actual bastards like you.”

The male's eyes narrowed sharply, and he bared his teeth. “You. You're one of his whores.”

Tutting, I smiled brightly and cheekily, letting go of my mask and sauntering closer, smoothly sliding a dagger from its sheath in the shadows. “Now, now, careful. You already gambled away your tongue, you're about to loose so much more.”

The male moved forward, towering, dark and angry, and his eyes flashed. “That can be prevented.”

I grinned, fury raging in my chest, vibrating under my skin.

“Please try.”

The male's eyes became slits, and he snarled as the other males around him moved out of his way, beginning to prowl towards me. “You are in far over your head. I could snap that pretty little neck in an instant, but where's the fun in that?” He smirked leeringly. “We'll have some fun first, and you'll see what you´d been missing, spreading your legs for me too, you little w-“

It happened in the span of a heartbeat.

Darkness grasped the male, and his back crashed against the pillar, a tall, towering figure on him, their bodies shaking from the impact as huge wings flared and shadows whirled and scarred fingers wrapped around the male´s throat and squeezed.

My heart dipped and stilled.

Azriel's face was frozen to stone, the only sign of the deadly rage flaring within him the blazing fire in his eyes as he dipped his head and growled: “I'll kill you.”

The other males pulled themselves out of their shock. Two came at me while shadows wrapped around the others like shackles, but I was quicker.

Ducking under the swinging arm of the first, my fingers closed around his wrist, and I whirled around until our backs collided and I wrapped my arm over his neck to slice my blade over his throat. I could feel his body spasm in my back, and something hot and wet spattered my skin.

I moved before his body even collapsed to the ground, dropping to dodge the arm of the second and sliding over the marble, slicing the back of his knee with my dagger. My dress flared around me as I turned, baring the daggers sheathed at the tops of my thighs, and I pushed myself up, another daggers sliding into my hand as the male's leg buckled and he went to his knees. His head whipped up, my daggers pressed against his skin, one over his throat and the other pointed at the back of his neck, causing him to freeze, and my head swept around as I snarled at the others.

“Don't fucking touch him.”

The male tried to grab at Azriel's hand that slowly but surely cut off his air supply, but the shadowsinger didn't move, just stared at him with that flaring, merciless fire blazing in his eyes, body rippling with tension, darkness whipping around his wings.

The crowd rustled as guards slipped out of the wide circle that had formed. The commotion must have attracted their attention, ready to break off the brawl – Rhys wasn't interested in too much of a bloodspill. But they visibly hesitated as their gazes flickered between me, Azriel, and the male that wheezed, trying to scratch at the shadowsinger's hands as he gurgled: “What – are you – waiting – for –“

Azriel's eyes darkend, and the male broke off, his eyes bulging. I snarled, sliding the tip of my knife higher up the kneeling male's throat as my gaze pierced the guards. They might have been sworn loyal to Rhys, but he wasn't around right now, and many of them shared the same view the male had paraded around.

Something skipped high against my ribs; I threw a look over my shoulder, and the same moment, Azriel turned his head.

Amber eyes clashed with mine; blazing, raging darkness, and showing a silent question, offer, reassurance.

My heart dipped. Then it rose.

I pushed away the male at my feet and turned smoothly, and Azriel's wings flared, spread menacingly as he let go of the male who lost his footing and collapsed, stepping back until we were back to back. Shadows wrapped around my arms and waist, possively, protectively, the breeze of the ones swirling around Azriel's wings causing the whisps of hair falling into my face to flutter as I flipped my daggers around, the blades pressing against the insides of my arms as I snarled at anyone who moved just a breath out of the circle. I could feel Azriel towering in my back, could feel the brush of his shoulder blades against my head, the power radiating off him in waves.

The guards exchanged quick glances.

“What are you waiting for?!” The male grasped his throat, his gaze raging with hate as he pushed himself to his feet, pointing towards us. “That fucking bastard was about to kill me, and that bitch actually sliced one of our own's throat!”

The guards hesitated, and the male barked: “Kill them!”

Azriel snarled softly, his wings rustling as his shadows whispered over my skin in a caress, and my heart rose as I readied myself, adrenaline rushing through my body and causing my lips to curve into a challenging, deadly grin as I fixed my eyes onto the nearest guard.

“I'll fucking do it myself!” The male ripped the sword off a guard and turned.

But before he could advance, before I could ready my dagger, the crowd shifted.

The guards stilled in place. Darkness rippled, power causing the ground to tremble. Then there was a low, familiar chuckle.

“Now, now…”

The male's gaze whipped around, and Rhys stepped out of the crowd, his violet eyes twinkling wickedly as he straightened his sleeve. They pierced the male who paled slightly, then they slowly turned towards Azriel and me.

“Even though I certainly wouldn't blame you for killing the worm with the bad manners right here and now, I am going to have to remind you of the mess it would leave.” He dipped his head with a feline smirk. “It would be such tedious work to scrub even more blood off the floors.”

The males blanched, but the dark haired one clenched his teeth, apparently gaining back some of his bravado as he pointed at me.

“This female –“

Rhys' gaze whipped around, becoming sharp as darkness built around him, and the male fell quiet like someone had closed a hand over his mouth.

“Careful about finishing that sentence.” Rhys' voice was deep and rumbling and every part the High Lord he was when he stared at the male, power radiating off him and causing the male to step back like his body had forced him to.

“Maybe rethink on whether to finish it at all. Because even if I wasn't very inclined towards having people's heads for the things that just left your worthless mouth, as you might have noticed, this female is very capable of holding her own. Not to mention -“ Rhys' eyes flashed with the smirk he sent the male and dipped his chin towards Azriel. “He would tear you apart before you even finished whatever vile excuse of an opinion you were about to voice. And what an upsetting sight for my guests to witness your insides spilling all over the floors.”

The male blinked, and even though his jaw worked, he paled.

“As for the plain slander you spewed directed towards my Spymaster…” Rhys' eyes were blazing even as he smirked. “He doesn't care enough about opinions of the likes of you to shred you to pieces for parading them around. I however do, and this one,”, his gaze was twinkling wickedly he inclined his head towards me, “even more. She gets quite protective of those she cares about. And won't have anyone spewing insults of such kind without facing dire consequences.” Rhys sent him a feline smile. “And the only reason she won't be ripping out your throat right here and now is that she knows I would rather not have her ruin such expensive silk with something as meaningless as your blood.”

The male blinked quickly, his cheek muscles working quickly.

“Now, just in case this wasn't already made clear.” Rhys tipped his head to the side, his violet iris losing all twinkle, his smile becoming sharp and vicious. “No one makes the kind of insults you threw around about any member of my court without facing the consequences. And only a fool does so in my presence, thinking that I wouldn't know...”

The male's eyes widened slowly.

Rhys' lips twitched, and he dipped his chin. “Take him away.”

The guards moved, uniforms rustling, and Rhys turned away, raising a brow at the crowd with a wicked smile. "Anyone else would like to add anything?"

The crowd shifted, and Rhys winked, his smirk lazy. "Excellent. That means we can all go back to amusing ourselves." He waved his hand, and slowly, the bystanders started to turn away as the noise of the revel picked up again, laughter echoing under the cavernous ceiling, the fire breathers earning applause from the people who hadn´t even realised anything had been wrong.

I snarled softly when the rest of the males slinked into the shadows, and something heavy slipped off my chest as I felt a soundless breath leave me, adrenaline slowly rushing out of my system.

Then something grazed my back, and my heart rose into my throat.

I hesitated and looked up over my shoulder, and my eyes met amber ones, dark and swirling, piercing mine as shadows slowly whispered around my hands and ribs, gently wrapping around my ankles.

Something pulsed once against my ribs, harsh and quick, and my breath caught.

“Well…”

I blinked, somehow tearing my eyes away from Azriel's, and Rhys arched a brow.

“I had something a little less dramatic planned to re-establish dominance, but this was certainly something people will remember, so who am I to complain.” His lips curved mischievously as he raised a brow. “As entertaining as this was though, I'd rather you not stir up any more trouble tonight, so why don't you two go home.” Stepping back slightly, he winked, his violet eyes twinkling, then darkness swallowed him.

I swallowed softly. Then I looked up at Azriel, and something started rising under my ribs when he turned towards me, his tall body towering over me, shadows softly whispering over his shoulders, and my body followed, like it was made as a mirror.

Something dipped and squeezed in my chest as I tipped up my chin to stare up at him, soared and fluttered when Azriel stared back, head tilted down towards me, so close our chests were brushing. His eyes were dragging over my face, deep, emotion raging within, causing my breath to swell in my throat. Then he turned his gaze down, and my fingers twitched when rough hands carefully slid the daggers out of my grip.

My brows furrowed, and when I followed Azriel's gaze, he wiped the bloody blades clean on the sleeves of his leathers before twirling them around in his grip and leaning down.

His breath brushed over my neck, then his hands slipped under the slits in my dress and slid the daggers back into their empty sheaths.

My heart dipped and fluttered. Heat washed through my body from the place Azriel´s rough fingers grazed my skin, his scent causing my heart to rise in a flutter, then he rose again, and when I looked up at him, feeling something close around my throat, his hand slipped to the small of my back, lightly tugging me forward as his arm wrapped around my waist until my chest was pressed into his.

I inhaled soundlessly, and darkness swallowed us.

When the shadows disappeared, we were standing in Azriel's room in the townhouse.

I hesitated, swallowing softly as I slowly moved backwards, Azriel's hands slipping away from my waist when I raised my head to stare at him, something dipping in my chest.

“I could have handled him.” My voice was soft, so unlike me, something churning in my chest as my heart thumped against my ribs.

“I know.” Azriel's eyes pierced mine.

My heart rose, and I felt my brows draw together desperately.

“Then why did you –“

Azriel moved, and my voice died away when he stalked forward until he was towering over me, his eyes blazing as he stared down at me. “Because you're mine. You might've not been before we went into those godsdamned woods, but you sure as hell are now, and I know that you can fight for yourself, but I am too selfish to not tear apart anyone who dares to try and harm you.”

My heart rose into my throat, and suddenly, breathing felt impossible.

Azriel's jaw flexed, and he dropped his head a little, his eyes piercing mine.

“You're mine.” His throat worked like he was trying to swallow, and his shoulders sank. “And you know that. You know that you are mine, that you belong with me, the same way you know that I am yours – with every fiber of my fucking being.” His gaze darted over my face, blazing, desperate.

“You know it, because it pulls you towards me just like it pulls me towards you, because just the thought of being away from each other makes you ache, because the thought of losing each other makes you feel like you're going to lose your mind. Because anyone threatening to harm me makes you want to rip them apart.” His throat worked as he stared at me, eyes steady.

“That's what was scaring you.” His voice was hoarse but fiery. "Because for some reason, it hasn't gotten into your head that I'm not going anywhere. That I belong to you just as much as you belong to me, maybe even more, and that it's not going to stop.”

Something tightened in my chest, and I tried to fight the rising feeling, feeling my fingers curl together to hold onto something.

“How do you want to know that?”

The whispered words were out before I could stop them, weak, scared, terrified.

But Azriel's eyes just dragged over mine, drinking me in, that deep, all consuming thing rising in his iris until it swallowed everything.

“I just do.” His quiet, raw voice caused a shudder to run down my spine. “The same way I know there's stars in the sky and earth under my feet.”

I stared at him, feeling my breath tremble, and something began to ache in my chest.

“What if I fall? What if I go down?”

The words tumbled from my lips, shaking, thick, but Azriel just stared at me, calm, steady, unshakable, his voice hoarse when he mumbled: “Then I'll catch you. Or we go down together.”

The ache in my chest grew, rising, like a storm as I tried to fight against the pressure in my throat and drank in the male standing before me, tall, unfaltering, eyes soft and burning, and my heart pulsed, thrumming against my ribs, firmer and firmer until my breath stilled.

I moved, and the ache in my chest tightened before erupting, turning to clouds of stardust when I stretched and pulled Azriel down to kiss him desperately.

A soft hoarse sound left the shadowsinger, and his hands slipped to the back of my neck, dragging me forward into his chest as he dipped his head and kissed back like he'd been made for nothing else.

My heart soared as my fingers tug into his waist, twisting and pulsing under my ribs as I pushed closer, Azriel's scent filling my lungs, causing a whimper to build in my throat as one of my hands slid up to the back of his neck, digging into his hair to pull him down, closer, just closer.

Azriel groaned into my mouth, his fingers sliding down to grip my waist as his lips parted mine, his tongue wrestling mine as his hand slid into my hair, tipping my head.

Heat rose from my core, washing through my body as my insides twisted, my hips pushing forward, and Azriel bit into my lower lip before dropping his head. His fingers slipped from my waist to drag one of the straps of my dress down my shoulder, then his hand pressed against my back to arch my body into his touch, and his lips dragged over my nipple.

My insides shuddered, something twisted in my stomach, and my head fell back when Azriel started licking and sucking on the soft skin of my breast, groaning softly with need, his heavy breath fanning over forming bruises as his teeth caught onto my nipple.

My hips jerked, and my fingers dug into Azriel's hair as my body arched into him and a broken sound tore from my throat.

The shadowsinger's breath was ragged against my skin, heavy and uneven, his fingers digging into my waist as he pulled me closer and raised his head to kiss me again, harsh and deep and desperate. His fingers pulled the other strap of my dress off my shoulder, and the silky fabric slipped down my body, a soft groan leaving the back of Azriel's throat when my back arched until my chest pressed into his.

My heart rose in a violent flutter, and I dug my fingers into his hair, kissing back just as desperately. My tongue dragged over Azriel's, and he leaned down, his arm sliding under my ass and lifting me off my feet as he straightened back up.

My legs wrapped around his waist like instinct, my body clinging to his as I curved my hands around the nape of his neck and kissed him breathlessly, feeling everything in my stomach coil at the way his tongue licked into my mouth.

Azriel's steps shook my body as he moved through the room, his wings knocking against books and sending them crashing to the floor. His grip changed, and his arms slid away when he placed me on a cool, smooth surface, his hips pushing my knees apart, and my legs wrapped around his waist, dragging him closer.

Azriel grunted, his hips grinding into mine, and I moaned into his mouth as heat washed through my insides.

Azriel's hands slid down my sides to the holsters wrapped around my thighs. His fingers undid the clasps, and the weapons clattered to the floor as his thumb hooked into the band of my underwear and dragged it down. I kicked it off before trying to wrap my legs back around his waist, but Azriel's calloused fingers closed around my thighs. Then he dragged my legs apart and sank down onto his knees.

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart ceased beating.

Azriel's hands hooked into the back of my knees and dragged me to the edge of the dresser, sliding my legs over his shoulders. Then his eyes found mine, hooded, hazy, deep and flaring, and my lips fell apart when he ran his tongue through my folds.

A deep moan rumbled through Azriel's chest, and my back arched. His hands gripped my hips, then Az pushed closer and started licking broad stripes over me, his tongue flicking over my clit, sending shudders through my body.

My head fell back as my fingers dug into the hard edge of the dresser, my thighs trembling. Deep sounds vibrated through Azriel's body, like somehow, this was bringing him even more pleasure than me, eating me like a male starving, lids fluttering over hazy eyes in which golden flecks were melting together into galaxies.

The sight of him, hair dishevelled, strands curving over his forehead, wings shuddering as he lapped at me, sucking slowly, caused something to twist in my stomach, my insides tightening. My heart thrummed against my ribs, heat running down my spine as it arched, and Azriel hummed, his hands sliding from my hips. He tore his gloves off, then his palms dragged up my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and one slipped between my legs.

"Oh." A soft sound left me, my hips rolled, and Azriel licked over my clit until my body shuddered and his finger slipped into me.

Azriel took me apart with nothing but a few strokes. Then his finger curled, another joined the first, and he harshly sucked at my clit, lapping and licking, and the tightness in my stomach twisted and snapped, bloomed into something that turned my body to stardust and made my insides squeeze and twitch until I clung to Azriel's hair, sounds breaking from my throat that shook the ceiling.

Lazily lapping at my clit, Azriel allowed me to tug him to his feet. Shadows whispered, helping my trembling fingers to begin to get rid of his armor and leathers when he kissed me again, his hands tipping back my head, tongue slowly, heatedly dragging over mine.

Suddenly, the layers left between us were too much. I ripped at Azriel's armor, sliding it off his shoulders, the leathers following. My nails lightly scratched over his skin as I dragged my hands down his chest, his skin warm and solid under my touch, muscles shifting and shuddering when my legs wrapped around his waist and dragged him forward. I licked over his throat, following the deep sound rumbling in Azriel's chest when my teeth nipped at his jaw, his fingers digging into my thigh, sliding into my hair, and I inhaled with a soft shudder, raising my head and curling my fingers into Azriel's hair when he kissed me harshly.

Azriel's grip tightened, and he lifted me off the dresser. My nipples dragging over his bare chest caused my fingers to dig into his hair, and Azriel growled softly, kissing me harder, more desperate. I could feel his hard cock pushing against his pants as he kicked off his boots, and when I grinded my hips down, my insides twisted at both the friction and the hoarse sound leaving him.

Azriel leaned down, and my heart rose when he dropped me into sheets that smelled like him as much as me, our scents intertwined into something that caused my chest to ache with harsh flutters. Weapons and heavy leather hit the floor, then Azriel was above me, pushing my body up the mattress until I wrapped my legs and arms around him and dragged his heavy body down.

My heart toppled when his warm weight pressed mine into the mattress, causing my hips to buck and back to arch, and Azriel groaned into my neck. His hand dragged my thigh up, his hips lodged right between my legs, and my hand flew up to curl into his hair when the tip of Azriel's cock dragged through my folds.

I choked with a whimper, my lips parting as I twisted back my head. Azriel's hands pressed against the insides of my thighs, pushing them down further, sliding my legs apart until I was spread out entirely beneath him. His nose dragged up my neck, warmth washed over me, and I dug my fingers into his hair. Then he rolled his hips forward.

My lips parted. My back arched as a whimper left me, and my eyes rolled back at the way I felt myself stretch around him, sensation zipping up my spine as my body melted into the mattress.

Azriel grunted, neck straining as he dropped his head against my shoulder and mumbled hoarsely: “Fuck, you´re tight.”

“Oh.” My back arched up into him, my hips twisting, and Azriel growled softly into my neck, one arm hooking under my back to keep me from writhing.

My eyes rolled back as Azriel nudged his hips forward, and my back arched.

“Shit.” My fingers grasped the sheets, twisting, and Azriel grunted against my throat, the sound thick. A shuddering breath left me as my hands flew up to dig into his back, my heart rising into my throat.

My body became a pliant, weightless thing. Where Azriel pushed, it gave way, with a little hesitation and then all too ready. The deeper he sank in, the less I could feel that wasn't him. Him and how I was stretching around him, him and his body flush against mine, tall and solid and dwarfing mine as his hand closed around my thigh and hiked it up higher –

Azriel raised his head, and my heart toppled over when he pressed his forehead against mine, panting shallowly into my parted lips, grip bruising. Then his hips rolled again, and something twisted, shifting into place.

I whimpered when Azriel sank in to the hilt, hips flush with mine and filling me up to the very brim, my fingers digging into his back as one of my hands flew up to bury in his hair.

Azriel nudged his nose against mine, and my heart toppled over at the sight of his blazing eyes and blown pupils and harsh swallow.

I lightly rolled my hips upwards, and a strangled sound left the back of Azriel's throat. His fingers dug into my thigh, then he slowly pulled out, and my eyes rolled back when he sank back in, starting a deep, hard, torturous rhythm.

My nails scratched over Azriel's back as my body arched into him, my hips meeting his thrusts as he began to fuck me, slowly, deliciously, every drag of his cock against my walls causing tremors to run up my spine. Something began blooming in my chest, wild and pulsing, rising until I shuddered, and Azriel kissed me, lips parting mine as his tongue dragged over mine, tasting, memorising as he groaned into my mouth, and I slid my leg up higher over his waist, clinging to him, feeling his arm drag me up into his body as he slowly picked up his rhythm.

Something liquid pooled in my stomach, something hot that sent waves of pleasure through me and made my head fall back into the pillows, and I rolled my hips, desperate for more, more friction, more -

"Harder."

My breathless whisper caused Azriel's spine to tremble. His grip tightened as he growled, and from one second to the next, his control vanished. Slid away with every little thing remaining of his walls, and his hands pushed my legs up higher as his hips snapped forward, falling into a rhythm that made me press my palm onto the headboard, my body arching as Azriel started to fuck me deep and hard into the mattress.

My insides twisted. Tightened slowly around Azriel's cock as it hit spots that made my eyes roll back until I saw stars as I pushed back, rocking my hips until it felt like my body was about to burst, strung so tightly, I could feel every muscle quivering until I was writhing, broken sounds falling from my throat.

Then it snapped.

My body shattered. Became stars and galaxies and the earth trembling beneath our feet as waves of pleasure washed over me so blinding, my body twisted and shuddered still when I felt Azriel follow me over that edge, his hips burying deep within me as he cursed brokenly into my neck.

The sheets were no longer sticking to my skin when I finally wasn't floating anymore. My mind was still slow and foggy when I pulled my head back a little to stare at Azriel. He'd dragged me into his body, arm slipping between my legs to haul one of them over his side before sliding it around my waist, pulling me so close, our chests were pressed together until there was no telling where one ended and the other began. His hair was mussed and sweaty, his lips swollen, and his eyes looked like amber in evening light as he stared back at me, the golden flecks in his iris twinkling.

He was looking at me like I was beginning and end, the answer to every question, like the one thing between the earth and the stars entirely made for him.

Something rose gently under my ribs.

"Every fiber of my soul,", I whispered.

Azriel stared at me, and his gaze flared, became molten and soft and burning as he dragged me forward and kissed me until my heart soared and breath caught in my throat and I finally understood that swirling, all consuming feeling in his eyes.

All yours.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @icey--stars @ailyr92 @azriels-mate2 @thisisew @kalulakunundrum @polli05927 @raisinggray @justdreamstars @ccucumbers @hanvstheworld

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel imagine #azriel smut #az #az x reader #az imagine #az/reader #acomaf #acowar #acotar x reader #acotar #lalacliffthorne #azriel/reader

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fanficimagery · 2 years

Text

Miscommunication

You practically throw yourself at your best friend, only to be rejected.

Or were you?

Words: 4.1K Author’s Note: I, uh, I have nothing. I wrote this while having covid. It was the only thing my brain let me complete.

Walking down the side of the empty road, you hug your jacket a little tighter to your body and pray no wild animal leaps from the surrounding woods to attack you in such a vulnerable state. Normally you'd get a ride from your best friend, but you'd just made an absolute fool of yourself and the last thing you want is to see him right now. Or for the rest of the week for that matter.

Tripping and stumbling over gravel and twigs, you curse your lowered inhibitions and wonder how you're going to move on from this. As you're walking, you see lights appear on the road from behind you. They get bright and brighter, and your heart beats faster and faster.

Grimacing, you quickly wipe away your tears. "Please don't be-" An all too familiar blue Camaro slows to a stop next to you and you heave a sigh of relief before grimacing for a whole different reason. "Hargrove, out for a late-night drive?"

Leaning over his seats, Billy glances through the passenger window. "YN YLN? What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Oh, you know, just thought I'd go out for a stroll."

"In the middle of fuckin' nowhere?" He scoffs. He then reaches for the handle and opens the door. "Get in."

"It's fine. I can walk."

"Get in the goddamn car, YN."

You briefly weigh your options before deciding that you don't actually want to walk home in the dark. So, bending at the waist, you peer in through the opened door. "No funny business?"

"Believe it or not, princess, I know that no means no. And to not take advantage of a girl when she's clearly been crying." You wince and then quickly drop into his passenger seat, shutting the door right after. Billy throws his car into drive and takes off, raising the volume to the radio to keep the atmosphere of the car from becoming too uncomfortable. After a couple of minutes, he asks, "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," you mumble.

"Can't be that bad."

You scoff and keep your gaze straight ahead. "It's.. more embarrassing than anything."

"Well now you gotta tell me."

You sniffle some more and gulp down the forming lump in your throat. "Why? We're not exactly friends." You wince as you hear the words leave your mouth and see Billy's hands clench around the steering wheel. "Sorry, that sounded more bitchy out loud than it did in my head."

"Had this been any other day, you'd be right." He shrugs and then, "So come on. For one night only you can spill all the nitty gritty secrets and I'll never bring it up again."

"Yeah. Right."

He slowly smirks. "Fine. I won't use it as blackmail. I'll probably tease you with it, but not when others can hear."

You turn your head to look at him, slowly smiling and then chuckling. You hide your face behind your hands, groaning. "I know I'm gonna fuckin' regret this, but I need to say it out loud and talk about just how stupid I was."

"Come on, princess, lay it on me."

You groan again. "I, uh, I might have threw myself at my best friend."

Billy's quiet for a moment too long and you peek at him through your fingers. "That.. doesn't sound so bad."

"He rejected me."

He scoffs then. "I still don't see how you're the stupid one here. If it were me, I'd have been all over that."

You wrinkle your nose at his brief leer. "Yeah, well, Eddie's not like that. He said I was drunk and that I'd regret it."

"Eddie?" Billy frowns. You can see him wracking his brain for a face to pin to the name. You can practically see the lightbulb go off over his head when his eyes widen and his head whips in your direction. "Eddie Munson?!"

"You don't have to say his name like that." You pout and Billy cackles.

"Holy shit. Holy shit, princess! You threw yourself at Eddie fuckin' Munson and that freak rejected you?!"

"Don't call him that," you whine. "He's my best friend and-"

Billy laughs some more. "Is he getting into his own stash or something? Why the hell would he-"

"Because I'm not his type! I made an ass out of myself and now I've ruined everything with my best friend, and I can't even look at him anymore and.." You trail off, crying. "I just- I just wanna go home and crawl into bed and not resurface for the foreseeable future. So, if you can stop laughing at me, that'd be awesome."

Billy continues to chuckle as he drives. "Look, I'm sure it's not as bad as you're making it out to be." You scoff and wipe the tears from your face. "You said that he said you were drunk, and he thought you'd regret it?" You frown, hesitantly nodding. "Well then there you go. I'm not a fan of the guy, but he obviously did the right thing not taking advantage of you in this state."

"But I'm not that drunk!"

"Aren't you?" He muses, smirking as he glances at you yet again. "If you were sober or even a bit buzzed, would you be spilling all this girly shit to me? Me who's attempted to take you out multiple times only to be shot down?" You pout at him and sink further into the seat. "That's what I thought. Now pull it together and tell me where you live."

As you glance out the window to take in your surroundings, you say, "Keep driving until you hit Lawrence Street. I'm like the third house down on the right." Billy hums his acknowledgment and then all too soon he's turning down your street. But as you squint your eyes in the darkness, your eyes widen and you throw yourself down onto the floorboard. "Don't stop! Keep driving!"

"What the hell are you doing? Get off the floor."

"No, no, no. That's Eddie's van in front of my house. I don't want to see him."

"What the hell do you want me to do then?"

You watch as Billy glances out his window, smirking at something. "Just.. drop me off around the corner or something. I'll jump fences if I have to until I get to my backyard." Billy goes quiet and you watch as he turns, and then makes another turn. Slowly, you climb back into your seat. "Uh, where are you going?"

"My place."

"Hargrove," you groan.

"I'm still being a decent person," he muses. "Dad took his wife on a little getaway, so it's just me and Maxine. You're good."

"You promise?"

Billy glances at you then, his expression softening just a fraction as he takes in just how small you look in his passenger seat. "Sure, Princess. I promise."

The drive to Billy's house is a few minutes longer and then he's pulling into his driveway. You get out of his car on shaky legs, hugging your jacket tight around you once again. Following him inside, you wince as he shouts for his stepsister, only to get no response in return.

"Guess she's gonna be out for the night."

"Mhmm." Billy surprises you with a change of clothes- a crop top of his that fits you almost like a normal shirt and a pair of sleep pants. He tries to offer sharing his bed, but you wrinkle your nose at him. "Nope. The floor is fine. I'm not sleeping in jizz central."

He laughs, but shrugs. He wasn't going to manhandle you into his bed if you didn't want to be there. Instead, he grabs up all the spare blankets and pillows he can find and lets you make a nest on his floor. He disappears for a brief moment before coming back with tylenol and a glass of water. You eagerly drink it all down, setting the glass on his bedside table and then crawling underneath one of the blankets.

As soon as the lights are out, your eyes start to take longer and longer to reopen.

"Hey Billy?" You sleepily mumble.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. This was actually pretty decent of you."

He huffs. "Go to sleep, YN."

"M'kay."

The following afternoon you're sitting at Hargrove's breakfast table, elbows on the tabletop and head resting in your hands. Your stomach's rolling, your head is pounding, and the embarrassment still lingers.

You remember everything from watching Eddie be his rambunctious self at Steve's impromptu party, to having a couple drinks for liquid courage and being talked up by Robin, to finally just grabbing your best friend by the back of his neck and kissing him. For a moment he seemed to be into it, but then he pushed away and your heart plummeted.

Tears of embarrassment had stung your eyes as Eddie explained that you were drunk and didn't know what you wanted. But you did- you knew exactly who and what you wanted, but he merely flashed you a sad smile and refused to believe you. So when he told you to stay put while he went to grab his jacket so he could drive you home, you disappeared out Steve's backyard gate even as Robin tried to call you back.

The front door to the house opens and your head shoots up, eyes wide with panic. The door shuts and then the person who'd just entered comes into view.

Max freezes, staring at you before she looks you up and down. Her shock quickly turns into disgust. "Please tell me you didn't."

"I-I didn't!" You quickly stand, clutching at the waistband of the sleep pants to keep them in place. "I slept on the floor."

She scoffs. "Yeah. Right." Her eyes roll and your chest aches with hurt. "I know Billy, and you weren't exactly sober last night, YN."

"I was sober enough to know exactly what I was doing, Max."

"Were you?" Her eyebrow arches at you. "Is that why you threw yourself at Munson and then Billy? I guess the second time was the charm, huh."

Her words sting and immediately you feel your eyes prickle with tears of frustration. Her expression softens as she realizes what she's just said, but you shake your head at her when she opens her mouth again. "Fuck this."

Turning around, you march back to Billy's room and strip out of his sleep pants in order to pull your jeans back on. As you're debating whether or not you want to slip back into your own shirt, you see Max lean into the doorway to peer into the room.

Keeping Billy's crop top, you pull on your leather jacket. The bathroom door opens, Max scrambles to the other side of the door, and then..

"What's going on?"

You glance up at Billy standing there in a pair of basketball shorts and towel draped around his neck as water droplets dribble down his bare chest. Max rolls her eyes at him and you hardly bat an eye at him as you scoop up your shirt and shoes. "I, uh, I'm gonna go. Thanks for the ride and place to crash. You're not a total neanderthal like I thought you were, Hargrove."

He scoffs. "Why are you crying?"

"I-"

"I just remembered what an idiot I made of myself last night," you say, cutting off Max when she suddenly turns guilty looking. You meet her gaze and subtly shake your head before looking at Billy once more. "Thanks again. I'll, uh, I'll see you around."

You squeeze between the step-siblings, ignoring both their calls of your name as you flee their home. Outside, the tears come faster. With your shoes dangling from one hand and your shirt clutched in the other, you hurry in the direction of your home so you can hide away.

The weekend comes and goes, and you're grateful that your parents were off on a business trip so you could mope in peace. The doors remained locked, the curtains remained pulled tight, and you ignored every knock on the door or phone call that had your friends pleading on the answering machine to pick up.

But Monday comes around far too quickly for your liking and you find yourself dragging your feet into work at Family Video. Steve perks up from behind the front counter, but you merely let your gaze drag over him before heading straight to the staff room to clock in.

When you take your place behind the front counter, you immediately get to work sorting the returned tapes and sit on the floor where the small TV and VCR are hidden so you can mark down who didn't rewind their tapes.

"Well you're alive and well. That's nice to know."

"Mhm. Haven't kicked the bucket quite yet, Harrington, now get back to work."

"Fine. But we're talking about whatever the hell happened Friday night on break."

"Hmm. I would rather not."

"YN.."

"Steve." You sigh and look up over your shoulder at him. "Can you not do this? We're at work and I'd rather forget the most embarrassing night of my life. Thanks."

"Embarrassing because you threw yourself at Munson or embarrassing because you slept with Hargrove?"

Your eyes widen and then anger blazes across your features. "Fuck you." You get up from your place on the floor and march back towards the staff room.

"Shit. Shit, YN, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." Steve chases after you. "Max feels really bad about that misunderstanding, by the way."

"If she felt bad about it then why did she tell all of you? Clearly nothing happened," you spit at him in anger, "but you've all made up your mind already, haven't you?"

Steve watches you grab your timecard from the wall, followed by a pen. "W-What are you doing?"

You scribble two words on the timecard before tossing the pen aside, strip out of your Family Video vest, and then walk over to Steve while slapping the card against his chest. "I quit."

Steve gapes as you walk out the staff door, marching through the store as you exit out the front entrance.

When you get home, you kick off your shoes on your way upstairs and crawl into bed. The moment you're under the covers and your head hits the pillows, the tears come. You cry over the fact that two of your friends, maybe more, think you slept with Billy Hargrove and cry because you're now out of a job.

You cry and cry, not knowing when you fell asleep.

You don't know how long you've been asleep when you feel your mattress dip and you peel open your eyes with a quiet groan. When your gaze focuses, you see Robin sheepishly sitting on the edge of your bed.

"Hey." She faintly smiles at you. "Steve called a code red." At the mention of his name, your bottom lip wobbles and your eyes fill with tears yet again. "Aw crap. Please don't cry. I don't do good with crying people."

It takes you a few moments to get yourself under a semblance of control. "Does everyone else *sniffle* think I'm a slut too?" You cry.

"No one thinks you're a slut, YN."

"Steve and Max do," you say over a hiccup. "They think I slept with Billy, but Robin.. I wouldn't. You know I've been in love with Eddie since I was sixteen."

There's a sharp inhale of breath behind you, Robin's eyes widen before they dart in that direction and your heart lodges itself in your throat.

"You've been in love with me since we were sixteen?"

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna go," Robin blurts. She offers you a tight smile before quickly standing. "Have fun. Figure your shit out and be safe!"

As Robin flees your bedroom, you turn on your side and curl in on yourself. You can hear the jingle of the chain hanging from Eddie's belt loops and you turn your head so your face is hidden in the plushness of your pillow.

"Hey. Come on now. It's just me, sweetheart." Your mattress jostles and your breath hitches. "Will you please look at me?"

"I don't wanna."

"YN."

A whine gets stuck at the back of your throat and you slowly turn your head so you can see Eddie. He smiles big from where he's crouched on the side of your bed. "There you are."

"I wasn't drunk," you mumble.

"What?"

"I wasn't drunk," you say again. "Friday night," you then clarify. "I knew what I was doing when I kissed you and I'm really sorry I made you uncomfortable."

Eddie's smile falters. "What makes you think I was uncomfortable?"

"You rejected me, Eds! I'm pretty sure that-"

"Baby," he suddenly coos and your heart fuckin' aches at the term of endearment. He crosses his arms atop your bed, setting his chin atop them as he angles his head to get a better look at you. "I was nowhere near uncomfortable. I thought you were wasted and that you'd regret the kiss come morning," he clarifies for you. "I couldn't bear the thought of finally getting the girl of my dreams only to lose her when she realized what a mistake she'd made while under the influence."

His words hang in the air for a moment and it takes your brain a minute longer to process it all. Then when the silence is borderline awkward, you say, "I could never regret anything involving you. You're my best friend and I-"

"Have been in love with me since you were sixteen?" He lightly teases. Your heart beats faster and faster, and he smirks. "Will it make you feel any better if I admit I've been in love with you just as long?"

"W-What?"

"S'true. Ask Wayne," he says. "He's called me a dumbass for years for not telling you." You giggle and Eddie practically beams. "So what do you say to a redo? Because I haven't stopped thinking about Friday night and I-"

You lurch forward, holding your weight on one elbow as you press your lips against Eddie's. He chuckles against your mouth before getting with the program, cupping the side of your head with one hand and molding his lips against yours.

For a first kiss it's very chaste, but absolutely perfect. Though you've been in love with Eddie for years, there's absolutely no rush whatsoever and you want to savor every milestone with him.

Eddie pecks your lips once and then twice as he slowly pulls back, resting his forehead against yours while swiping his thumb along your cheekbone. "I've been wanting to do that for years."

"Mhm. Same." You lean in and kiss his lips one last time. "And I'm all for exploring each other and all that to catch up on lost time, but all this stupid crying has exhausted me. So either get in bed or go beat up Steve for me for making me have to look for another job."

Eddie chuckles as he stands, slipping out of his leather jacket and jean vest, then slipping off his sneakers. "Nah. Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Steve covered for you at work and got you a new time card. You still have a job at Family Video."

"Oh. Okay then."

As he climbs into bed, under your covers, you wait until he's mostly settled before moving his arm so you could cuddle up to him. With your head resting in the crook of his arm where his arm meets his shoulder, you lay your arm across his abdomen and hike your knee over his thigh. Eddie chuckles. "Comfortable?"

"Getting there." You move around a bit more and then once you're finally settled, you exhale a little too loudly. Eddie squeezes you tighter against him, one arm around your back while your other hand rests on your knee. "Is this real?" You ask. "Like you're not just doing this because you're afraid to hurt my feelings?"

"I am one hundred and ten percent here for this, sweetheart," Eddie says. "Now that I know I can have this and more? Pft. You're never getting rid of me." You laugh softly and feel his lips against your forehead. "Now get some rest. We can pick up the fun stuff later."

You fall asleep with a smile on your lips and Eddie brushing his fingers along the skin of your arm.

As it turns out, dating Eddie is a lot like just being friends with Eddie. The only difference now is that he's less careful with his touches and has no problem staking his claim out in public. You were never a fan of pda, but with Eddie? You like it. You like it a lot.

Especially if it grosses out Steve who you'd yet to fully forgive for his sleeping with Billy comment. Max you could forgive because she was used to seeing Billy sleeping with a new girl every weekend and she realized her mistake when she saw all the bedding on the floor where you had actually slept. But Steve? Steve heard the story and still had the audacity to throw it out there that you'd slept with his arch nemesis and that really hurt.

But it's already been a week so you figure you'll let up and put Harrington out of his misery within the next couple of days.

Walking out of the festival Hawkins had put on for the weekend, Eddie's arm is draped around your shoulders while you're laughing and trying to eat the rest of your cotton candy without him leaning down to bite it off the cone in your hands.

"Well isn't this a precious sight."

You've yet to run into anyone brave enough to speak out about you and Eddie, so the words catch you off guard with the tone they're used with. But when you see who had spoken, you relax with a soft exhale. "Hey Hargrove." You nod at him and his date for the evening- his date who's frowning as she glances between you and Billy. You roll your eyes, feeling a little catty. "Are you actually showing this one off to the public before adding another notch to the bedpost?"

The girl gasps, but Billy merely smirks at you. "Nice to know you're still a bitch even when you're getting laid on the regular." Eddie tenses at your side, but you merely laugh at the mean words. Your laughter makes Billy chuckle and you smile genuinely when you see the shift in his demeanor. He glances at Eddie, smirk dimming. "You ever make her cry again, Munson, and I'll knock your teeth in. Got it?"

Eddie isn't given a chance to respond as Billy takes his date's hand and practically drags her towards the festival. As you and Eddie turn to watch them walk off, he looks down at you and shakes his head. "Jesus Christ, sweetheart. One night with Hargrove and he's turned into a guard dog."

You grin sheepishly. "Look at this way. If I ever run into trouble, you got a real hardass in your corner to help you kick some ass."

"I thought that's what Steve was for?"

You snort. "Have you seen Steve's fight record? Steve's not the fighting type, babe."

"Eh. True." Eddie's arm ends up around your shoulders yet again and the two of you head off towards his van. "Where to now, sweetheart? My place or yours?"

"I don't care. As long as there's a shower and some comfortable clothes for me, I could go to either place. I'm in the mood for some cuddles."

"Mmm. I like the way you think." Eddie opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you've hopped in to press in closer and pull you down into a kiss. He hums against your mouth, tongue licking up the sugar from your lips. "I think we'll go back to mine. Your parents are home and they always ruin our fun."

Giggling, you agree and then pull the door closed as Eddie jogs around the front of his van.

As you watch him go, your heart swells with even more affection for the boy who'd stolen your heart long ago. And as he smiles at you through the windshield window, eyes crinkled at the corners, you have a feeling that this will be one person who will never intentionally make you cry.

And if he does, well you can always take Hargrove up on his offer to punch his teeth in.

But until that day, you're gonna spend your days catching up on lost time with the guy of your dreams.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #billy hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

Text

7.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussion of feelings, nudity, mentions of some sexy stuff.

Word Count: 3.2k

Previously On...: Idk; it's been so long. Who can even remember? Just kidding-- Bucky blew off his plans for a 'friend-date' with Lily to talk to you about what happened that morning.

A/N: And we're back!

Hi, besties! I confess to not getting as much writing done as I had hoped on my break-- cursed writer's block! Then, last night, I ended up scrapping most of the writing I did do and started over, lol. However, I've got a bit of a back log again, and a four day weekend starting tonight, and now that I feel reinvigorated with the story, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled program!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You pulled up to the destination Bucky had sent you as dusk was falling. Langston Park. A weird spot for dinner, you thought, but you’d double-checked the location with Bucky, and he’d assured you that you were in the right place.

Glancing at your map, you noticed that the pin he’d sent you was a little ways up a trail. You parked your truck and double checked your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray at the ready– not that you were afraid that Bucky was going to harm you– just that, a woman alone in the woods at dusk? You could never be too careful. It actually went against your better judgment to go in there at all, but you trusted that Bucky wouldn’t lead you into danger.

If I do come across something unexpected, you thought to yourself, please let it be the bear.

You cautiously made your way up the trail, using the nearly useless flashlight feature on your phone to keep yourself from tripping over anything. It was difficult adjusting your eyesight from the bright light of the map you were following on your phone screen to the darkness gathering around you. After you’d been walking for about fifteen or so minutes, you had to turn left to go off-trail, cutting off your access to the dwindling daylight even more. You gently pushed branches of leaves aside as you made your way through the woods, until you noticed a soft, orange glow coming from up ahead of you.

When you broke through the tree line, your breath caught in your throat. The pin Bucky had sent you had led you to a small clearing nestled along a stream, with a melodious waterfall cascading down into a pool that held a handful of floating lanterns. The entire clearing was lit with hanging lanterns that gently swayed from the branches of the surrounding trees, washing the entire space with low, warm light. Spread out on the ground was a large blanket with some throw pillows, extra blankets, and a picnic hamper. And in the center of the clearing, crouched Bucky. He’d appeared to have just finished setting up his phone to stream some soft music. The entire tableau was the most romantic thing you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” you called softly as you turned your flashlight off, dropped your phone into your bag, and made your way into the clearing.

Bucky stood and turned to face you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Major, hi,” he breathed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Did you do all this for me?” you asked in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You could feel a lump form in the back of your throat, and you had to actively tell yourself not to cry. No one had ever done anything so absolutely romantic for you in your entire life. Not once had Connor ever made a fraction of the effort Bucky had made tonight.

Bucky’s face took on a look of panic. “Is it too much?” he asked, nervously glancing around as though he were trying to judge it anew through your eyes to see what you might find wrong with it.

You smiled, reaching for his hand to offer a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s lovely,” you said. “No one has ever done something so amazing for me, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky visibly relaxed at your words. “Figured I owed you something special, to make up for this morning.” He motioned to the blanket, guiding you to sit down with him. “I brought dinner,” he said, opening up the basket. Inside were several subs, a couple of bottles of lemonade, and a few bags of chips. “Sweet onion teriyaki chicken with cucumbers, extra pickles, and red wine vinegar,” Bucky said, handing you a sandwich. You held the sandwich to you for a moment, your chest filling with warmth at the fact that he’d remembered your offhand comment about your favorite sandwich.

You put the wrapped sub down on the blanket in front of you. “Could we talk before we eat?” you asked him. “I’ve got some things I want to clear up first.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, putting down the sandwich he had gotten for himself and looked up at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said.

You took a breath. “I get why you didn’t tell Lily about me,” you said slowly. “It’s new, and we’re not even really anything. So, what’s there to tell her, really? Plus, she and I didn’t really have the best first impressions of one another, so that part, I understand. What I don’t get is why you felt you needed to lie about being out on a date at all.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you weren’t finished.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many calls I got toward the end of my marriage that went just like the one you had with Lily last night. All the times Connor assured me he was just “out with the boys,” when, in reality, he was with his mistress. So, I guess, hearing you tell Lily you were with Sam for a ‘guys’ night’ was kind of triggering.” You sighed, heaving your shoulders. “I need to know, and I need you to be honest with me: Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that why you felt the need to lie to her about being out with me?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently and made a face of mild disgust. “Major, no– there’s never been anything between us,” he said. “I won’t lie, Lily is very important to me– as a friend– she was the first new one I made in almost eighty years, and she stuck by me when I was going through a really difficult time in my life, when I really hadn’t given her much of a reason to, but in terms of anything romantic, or sexual? Never.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. He seemed sincere, though if you had been a good judge of when a man you had feelings for was lying to your face, your marriage to Connor would probably only have been a fraction as long as it was.

“Alright,” you said, choosing in the moment to believe him, “so, if you’re as close as you say, and there’s nothing romantic between the two of you, it makes it even stranger that you lied to her about being out on a date last night.”

Bucky looked down, toying with a loose thread on the blanket you both sat on. “At the time,” he said, not looking up at you, “not telling her the truth seemed like a good idea. It didn’t really cross my mind that I was lying… more like ‘just not telling her the truth yet.’ I was really looking forward to seeing you again, doll,” he told you, his eyes now rising to meet yours, “ and telling Lil… well, it felt like I was needlessly complicating things."

You let out an exasperated sigh. “None of that explains to me the why behind it, Bucky,” you said. “Why would telling your best friend complicate things?

“I just didn’t want her getting involved in our business before the two of us even knew what our business was,” he said, as if that made everything clear.

“But, shouldn’t your best friend knowing your business be, I dunno, a good thing?” you asked him in frustration, wanting to reach out and shake him. You felt like you were going around in circles. “Shouldn’t she be happy for you?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Of course she’ll be happy for me. It’s just…” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Lily’s always had… opinions about every girl I’ve ever dated, and she’s never made it a point of keeping them to herself. I mean, most of the time, she ends up being spot on, and the relationship flops, but this…” he moved to place his hand over yours where it rested on the blanket, “with you? I wanted to enjoy it before she makes those opinions known.”

You turned your hand over and squeezed his. The full truth of the situation had clicked into place for you at his words, and the realization brought both intense clarity and an all too familiar heartache. “All my life, I’ve been… impulsive,” you told him. “I jump head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. It’s how I got into the Army, ended up with Connor, hell, even how I started my business. Sometimes it works out, but…” you heaved a sigh, “usually it tends to blow up spectacularly in my face. I don’t want this to blow up in my face, Bucky.”

The confusion in Bucky’s face as he took in your words was evident. “What are you saying, doll?” he asked.

You took a moment, considering your next words carefully. “I… I really like you,” you began as a wide grin broke out across his face. “Probably more than I should for a person I just met a few days ago, but the truth of it is, I’ve seen this story play out before, and I’m not sure I could handle opening my heart to you, only to have you leave me for the best friend you swore I’d never have to worry about.”

Bucky took both your hands in his own, a look of desperation crossing his face. “Sugar,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Major. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you that I just don’t see Lily that way,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dame the way I see you. You’ve got me feeling all kinds of ways I’ve never felt before.”

His words were sweet, and you felt your heart soften, but you had to remind yourself: you’d heard words just like it before. “Look,” you said, pulling your hands away from his, “maybe you don’t , but it seems pretty obvious, even as an outsider, that her feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I don’t want to lose my heart to you if you’re going to realize that you belong with someone you’ve known for years, instead of a one-night stand that went on for too long.”

Bucky reeled back as if you’d slapped him and closed his eyes in a grimace. “That is never,” he began, a pained expression clouding his handsome face, “ever all that you could be to me, Major.” When he opened them again, his eyes were boring into yours, the blue gone cobalt in the growing night. “I’m not going to wake up one day and decide I want to be with Lily. I’ve had four years in close proximity with her for those feelings to develop, and they never have. I honestly can’t see why that would change, especially now that I’ve met you.”

God, you wanted to believe him, but you’d already played this role and it had nearly destroyed you, despite how nonchalantly you acted about it. “Does she know that, Bucky? Because, to be completely honest with you, on the night we met, both Nat and Wanda advised me not to get involved with you, because of her.”

His face blanched at the admission. “What?! Why would they say that?”

“They warned me,” you clarified, hoping that you weren’t betraying any trust with your new friends and only feeling mildly bad that you were divulging Lily’s secret, “that Lily wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl;’ she was a ‘Bucky’s girl,’ only, you didn’t know it.”

“But she–” he spluttered, “she– we– she never– she’s never said anything. She’s never acted…” He was at a loss for words, and you could tell that the information had genuinely taken him by surprise. Despite what Lily may feel for him, it didn’t seem like he ever suspected it.

“Maybe I should leave you to think that over,” you said, making motions to start standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich.” Before you could even get your legs under you, though, Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, gently tugging you back down to the blanket. “Why are you leaving?”

You shrugged, confused. “I figured you’d want some time,” you told him. “Decide what you want to do about her feelings.”

Bucky looked at you like you were crazy. “Doll, in what world do any feelings Lily may have about me concern how I feel about you?”

“I just assumed…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“Assumed what? That just because she’s got a crush on me, I’m gonna ignore this thing between you and I? That I’m gonna develop feelings for her, outta nowhere, I might add, and just forget all about you?”

You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. “Yeah, actually,” you said.

“You idiot,” Bucky said, shaking his head with a gentle smile and a soft laugh. He put a hand behind your head and pulled you forward until your foreheads were leaning together. “I sincerely mean this when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about Lily’s feelings,” he said.

You both widened your eyes at the perceived callousness of the statement.

“Fuck,” Bucky backpedaled, backing his head away from yours a little “that came out soundin’ awful, and definitely not how I meant it.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Of course I care about her feelings– she’s my friend– I just mean… shit. Just, obviously, I feel bad if me not reciprocatin’ hurts her, but there’s nothin’ I can really do for it, y’know? Because it doesn’t change my feelings, and it’s not gonna change my feelings.

And shit, you believed him.

“You know what?” Bucky said, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Here.” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his military dog tags. Lifting them over his head, he slowly draped them around your neck.

“Bucky,” you said, fingering the embossed metal, “what…?”

“Think of it this way,” he said, “you, of all people, know what these tags mean to a soldier. Since I came outta cryo, came back to myself, not a single person has worn them, ‘cept for me. I’ve had girlfriends ask– hell, Lily’s asked– but it never felt right.” He brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into your face when you’d looked down at the tags. “But with you, it feels right. So, if you’re afraid that I’m gonna up and decide that I’d rather be with Lily, or fuck, anyone else but you, I want you to look at those tags and remember that you’re the one I’m picking, Major.”

You swallowed. You did know what those tags meant. Commitment. Trust. An unbreakable bond. Wordlessly, you reached around to the back of your neck, unclasping the chain that rested against your skin.

Bucky watched your motions carefully. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “that was probably me moving too fast, huh? I get it– you don’t have to wear them if—”

“Shut up,” you said gently, as you removed your own dog tags from around your neck and fastened them around his. “I don’t need to wear two sets, and your neck looked so lonely without one.”

Bucky held up one of the tags so that he could examine it, and you caught the moment he registered your name and information catching the candlelight.

“Sugar,” he said, his voice cracking on the nickname.

“You’re not the only one making a choice, Bucky,” you assured him.

He leaned in closer, taking your lips with his own, the kiss filled with the fire you’d come to associate with him, and only him.

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, and you could make out the glassy sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You admired the way they hung from his neck for a moment, and were overcome with the sudden urge to touch them. You placed a hand over the dog tags, your name, now resting over his pounding heart. Bucky cupped his own hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

“These look awfully handsome on you, Sergeant,” you told him with a soft smile. Bucky let out a low groan and you looked up at him, eyes questioning. “What is it?” you asked him.

Bucky’s face turned bashful and he shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “Forget it.”

Oh, you weren’t going to have any of that. “Come on, Bucky,” you said, playfully poking him in his rock hard stomach. “You can tell me anything. I’m wearing your tags now,” you added in a singsong voice. “We’re practically going steady.”

Bucky’s gaze on you darkened, and he tugged at his lip with his teeth. “Okay then, if you’re sure you really wanna know.” You mirrored him, biting your lip and nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to know what was going through his head to cause him to make such sexy sounds. “Just imagining what you’d look like wearing nothing but the tags, sugar,” he responded, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Bet it’d be the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Well, if you weren’t going to take that as an invitation. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you got up so that you were standing before him. Bucky moved forward, as if he were going to follow you up, a question ready on his lips, but you leaned down and gently pushed him back to the blanket, so he was propping himself up on his elbows.

Not once breaking eye contact, you slid your hands to the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up, over your head before tossing it to the side. Next, you toed off your shoes while you worked the buttons of your jean shorts, letting them slide down your thighs until you were standing in just your balconette and panties. You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a public park and you were undressing for a man. All that mattered was that you were undressing for this man, and in the moment, you were willing to do almost anything he asked of you.

Bucky’s eyes roamed your body from head to toe and back again, but you weren’t finished. He’d said ‘nothing but the tags,’ after all. Reaching behind your back, you skillfully unhooked your bra, but didn’t pull it off, instead letting it sit on your chest while you slowly shimmined your panties down your thighs and kicking them off to join the rest of your discarded clothes. Bucky’s breath hitched as he took in your near nakedness, and you almost giggled at the visible tenting taking place in his jeans.

Clutching the bra to your chest, as if you were shy, you slowly got down on your knees and crawled up Bucky’s thighs. Finally, you let the bra fall away, and Bucky’s wide eyes never left your breasts as he licked his lips. You palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

“I believe I once said something about wanting this down my throat,” you told him with a wicked smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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cumikering · 4 months

Text

Werewolf Keegan x reader

2k | fluff Keegan had the stiffest neck known to man (part 2)

It all started with a recon duty.

Alone, Keegan lay prone, seamless in the bushes in his dark attire. The full moon perched high, softened by the thick fog. The gentle rain tricked down the back of his neck under his mask.

He aimed down his sight, following the guard on patrol as he waited, waited for him to separate from the other. He took his time rounding the corner, puffing on his cigarette, rifle slung against his body.

As Keegan positioned his finger on the trigger, a branch snapped behind him.

His head whipped over his shoulder to see a shadow a few feet away, crouching. He jumped to his feet, heart pulsing in his ears. He yanked out his sidearm as the large beast pounced and pinned him down with a thump. The force knocked the gun out of his hand.

He freed his right arm with a grunt. He ripped his blade out its sheath, ramming it into the creature’s side repeatedly. It howled in pain and leapt away.

He staggered up, panting. In a swift move, he reverse gripped his bloodied knife. The beast growled, its brilliant yellow eyes glinting. Head lowered in caution, it stepped sideways, blood pouring out of the stabs.

“Come at me, bitch,” he spat out, mirroring its movement.

It snarled, the sound piercing, baring its pointy teeth before retreating into the woods.

He dropped to his hands and knees, heart beating out of his chest as sharp pain ran up his thigh. His pant leg had been shredded, the cuts under gushing blood. He let out an uneven breath. The bastard got him after all.

“Six-Two, how copy? What was that?”

He tried reaching for his comms, but fell to his side as he heaved, eyelids growing heavy.

“Keegan, do you copy?” The urgency in Merrick’s voice grew.

The crackle of his radio was the last thing he heard before everything went silent.

When Keegan woke with a grunt, the sun had just peeked over the horizon, casting a blue hue upon the woods. Leaves and twigs crunched in the distance.

His eyes fluttered open as he sat up, his head spinning. He reached for his holster before he realised he was all skin.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, wincing as he turned his neck. His clothes and gear strewn not too far from his camping spot the night before.

“Keegan,” a hushed voice called out, growing closer by the second.

He dove to his clothes, slipping them on frantically despite the dried mud on his body. Had it been that cold that he was delirious, like hypothermia victims who’d paradoxically shed their clothes? But if he’d got to that point, he wouldn’t have been alive then.

“Ajax! I’m here.”

His head whipped to Keegan. He breathed a sigh of relief as he jogged over. “We thought we lost you!” His eyes scanned over his body. “Oh shit, what happened?”

He followed his line of sight down to his mangled pants. He’d forgotten about his thigh. It didn’t hurt anymore.

“Oh. I- Fuck, there was a wolf. Huge.”

“Holy shit,” he muttered, reaching for his comms. “Scarecrow, he’s secure. Need medical. We’re heading to LZ.”

Ajax’s brows furrowed at how he made his way back with the state of his thigh, but Keegan was just relieved the mission had been a success despite the setback from his side.

On the ride back to base as he recounted the night before to his peers, his pants were cut to reveal his wound which had mostly dried up. He could have sworn the cuts were deep – look at the blood soaked cargos, but maybe his team was right, he just couldn’t see well in the dark.

Back on base as he cleaned his blade, the only evidence that the beast even existed, the bits of his dream came back to him. He tore through the woods on black paws to his heart’s content, each step light, unbothered by the nightfall.

It had felt impossibly real, the ground wet under him, the cold rain on his skin despite the thick fur. The smell of earth was comforting to the point of intoxicating, calling him back home.

Keegan chalked the night up as a fluke, a once in a lifetime occurrence he’d recall and brag about to the recruits. He got the scars to prove it after all.

But he had that dream again the month after.

Often when adjusting back to life after missions, his senses would overload the first few days. This time though, it was even more so. The hair on the back of his neck stood and the sweat only trickled more as the sky darkened.

This time as he lied on his couch, he remembered the warmth instantly rising to his skin, the tingling at his fingertips, the ringing in his ears. He couldn’t control his limbs when he stood and ripped his clothes off, before white hot pain seared his body for a split second.

Despite the light head and what felt like the worst case of sleeping wrong, he was surprisingly stable as he got off the floor and made his way back to the couch. But instead of turning to sit, he swiftly climbed onto it and lied down on his belly.

Wait, that’s not right…

He looked down. Two black paws on the upholstery. He let out a scream, but it didn’t sound right either.

He jumped off and barged through the bathroom door to meet a large black dog. Keegan jumped, making it bark. He froze in place as its growling resonated within the walls.

With the delay in his thoughts and movements, it took him way too long to realise he was dreaming. You never look right in mirrors.

He boofed, paws up on the counter. He tilted his head, tongue lolling as he revelled in his long snout and sharp teeth. His pointy ears and jet black floof made him feel far more like an oversized dog despite the yellow eyes – the only tell that he was a wolf. He chuckled to himself, or whatever the canine equivalent was.

It was dark outside, but he’d always wondered what it felt like to roll around on the grass. He pranced out, standing on his hind legs to open the door to no avail. His front paws slid right off the shiny, round door knob.

After a few attempts, he let out a sigh as he turned back to his apartment. What else would a dog do? Drink from the toilet bowl? Chew on shoes? Rummage through trash? None of those sounded particularly interesting.

Oh, he had a soft rug! He’d take what he could get.

He rolled on it as he panted for what felt like hours before his movements slowed and things went fuzzy again.

As vivid as the dream was, Keegan couldn’t write it off as another glitch because once more, he woke up bare with the stiffest neck known to man. The evidence stared back at him in the form of black fur all over the couch and rug.

“What. The. Fuck.” He sat up, reaching for the fur around him. He rubbed it between his fingers.

If not for the snarl over the comms, his team mates didn’t even believe him about the wolf with how shallow the cuts were that morning. They would certainly laugh at him if he told anyone about what just happened. He knew he’d lose his marbles if Ajax told him something similar.

He had to get to the bottom of this on his own. But first, he had to quench the odd craving for dry cereal.

Legend had it, you turned into a werewolf if you got scratched or bitten by one. Every night of the full moon, you’d get the urge to-

He scrolled down further, shoving more cereal into his mouth in his boxers.

A werewolf experiences his rut 2-3 times a year… His body would feel like it’s on fire… The wolf will then begin his journey to find his fated mate…

The mating bond is to be made within 7 full moons… Rejection would cause the werewolf to stay in his wolf form permanently…

He snickered. What a load of bullshit.

If this whole thing was real, he’d hear it on the news. But he never did, because this was insanity.

Yes, yes, he couldn’t explain the very-much-physical floof all over his apartment. But if for whatever reason he could chill as a wolf once a month, he wasn’t going to complain. As far as he knew there were no drawbacks to it if he could time it with his days off.

Maybe next time he could finally turn the door knob.

With every full moon, Keegan grew more and more comfortable in his new body. Every weekend he was home, he rented a humble cabin off the hiking site, thoroughly enjoying running through the woods and the solitude at the top of the mountain.

See, the lore was nonsense. He didn’t get sick anymore during the full moon (or ever). He could even shift on demand now - his deployments didn’t deter the doggo lifestyle. This was actually fun!

Until he burnt up during a mission. He could barely stand with his spinning head, and so he was sent to the safehouse to recover. He popped each and every pill he was prescribed, but his fever only worsened. He felt so hot… and bothered.

Was he given the wrong meds on accident? Who the fuck would prescribe medications with such side effect, during a mission at that?

He waited. An hour. Two hours.

With a sigh, he did what every man would to get the situation over with, yet the problem remained. Now sweating even more, he collapsed onto the floor with a pathetic grunt; his body like it was on fire.

On fire… On fire…

With the remaining energy he had, he grabbed his phone and navigated back to the lore from months before.

A werewolf experiences his rut 2-3 times a year. For days, his body would feel like it’s on fire with the desire to mate, marking his entrance into adulthood. The wolf will then begin his journey to find his fated mate…

His eyes narrowed.

Some say fated mates share scars and/or birthmarks, but one would ‘know’ he has found his mate when he can single out their scent and becomes possessive of them.

His face scrunched.

After meeting his mate, the mating bond is to be made within 7 full moons. Failure or rejection would cause the werewolf to stay in his wolf form permanently by the 8th full moon, often turning feral from the heartache.

He dry retched. He never doubted the fact that he liked women, of the human variety.

To make the bond, the werewolf draws the blood of his mate from between their neck and shoulder under the full moon. The bond is only sealed if the pair loves each other and shares a dream that night. The mate can then choose to remain human or be turned into a werewolf by getting bitten in the same spot.

Wait. Human, you say?

As ridiculous as the lore seemed, he had nothing to worry about. There were no soulmates for him. The timer would never start because he knew he was meant to be alone.

So yeah, that was Keegan P. Russ.

He served his country as a Sergeant, kissed his mum on the cheek when he came home. He recycled, paid his bills on time, and gave up his seat to pregnant women and the elderly. He abided to traffic rules and had no road rage (at least that’s what he told himself).

Oh, and thanks to one recon duty, he was now a werewolf.

Heh. Good luck trying to ruin my life.

But as we all know, fate has a funny way of catching up to you.

More Keegan: second chance, fake dating

Special thanks to @tiredmetalenthusiast and @shadofireshinobi who helped me with this!

@glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

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houseofoddballs · 5 months

Text

Loved and Lost

Based HEAVILY on @charliemwrites 1fur1 AU!! Recently fell in love with a dog that I can't have after reading through their "Woof Woof Johnny" things, and it absolutely tore me up inside because the sweet boy looked a lot like I imagined her Ghost boy to look. So you are given this. I poured a lot of that pain into this fic, and i hope you like it. (2,644 words)

They say that the more the loss hurts, the more you loved. Maybe that’s why you’ve cried yourself to sleep the past week, his favorite blanket clutched to your chest. “Grow up (Y/n), it’s just a dog.” Your sister had chided when she caught wind of the incident, your mother must have told her. She was never really an animal person.

A whiff of pin and gunpowder fills your nose, tantalizing you with the essence of that sweet dog who would sit patiently near you no matter where you were in the house. The fluff of the black blanket was soft, but nowhere near the dense fur of your cream colored good boy. If you closed your eyes, you could still see his face, his sweet sweet face. It didn’t matter what you were doing, those brilliant amber eyes were always trained on you, peeking up from the black skull-like patch of fur on his face. But he wasn’t yours anymore. Your Ghost had been wrenched away from you by the cruel jaws of fate, taken away from you in a horrible accident. It wasn’t abnormal for Ghost to disappear into the woods for a day or two at a time, but this time in particular was different.

You didn’t think anything of the way that Ghost sat in front of the door, blocking your exit stoically. A small huff of laughter pulled past your lips as you dropped to your knees and cupped your pooches face in your hands and went to place a gentle kiss on his fluffy forehead. Ghost wasn’t too keen on touch, preferring to initiate by laying on you or something, but in those rare moments where he did want affection he would express it by doing something like blocking your path like this. So imagine your surprise when he huffed and snapped his head to the side, pulling out of your hands like a pouting child. “Fine, have it your way big guy, but I still need to get to work.”

But he didn’t want that. He growled as you stood, His fur fluffing up as he also raised from his haunches to block your exit. He was adamant that you weren’t leaving. As much as you wanted to stay home with your pup, you were already going to be cutting it close to clocking in late. So, you tricked him. You walked into your room, closed him out, and climbed out your window. You were on the first floor, so it’s not like the drop was going to kill you. But you should have known better. As soon as your feet hit the ground, Ghost was there, growling with an unsaid threat.

He tried so desperately to get you to stay, you honestly felt so bad with the way that he chased your car well down the driveway and past. Your heart absolutely broke as you finally watched him give up through your rearview mirror, his chest heaving and his brown eyes looking so desperate as his figure grew smaller and smaller until he turned around and walked into the forest, his head hung low.

That was the last normal moment you spent with him. Brushing him to the side and heading to work. You wished you had just called out, or better yet, quit entirely. When you made your way home, it was with apology treats and even some new toys for enrichment (Even though Ghost had always preferred sticks to proper toys.) Pulling into your driveway, you hurriedly made your way inside, calling for your pup with a grin on your face. “Ghost! Ghost! I’m home!... baby boy?” You expected him to be laying on the couch or your bed pouting like he always did when he didn’t get what he wanted. But he was mysteriously absent. You shrugged it off, figuring that he was still in the forest doing whatever it was he did. You didn’t think anything when he was gone the next day either, chalking it up to you making him really mad. Ghost always knew how to hold a grudge, after all. It was the fourth and fifth days that began to drive you mad with worry. You had begun combing through the forrest until your legs were heavy and your throat was sore calling for Ghost, dreading the thought that maybe he was laying somewhere, hurt and alone. You didn’t dare entertain the thought that he might be dead. Finally, midway through the fifth day, a heavy knock came at your door. You must have looked a mess, heavy baggs under your eyes, sloppy unbrushed hair, still in your hiking clothes from yesterday. You opened the door to a strapping older gentleman with a kind face and an impressive set of chops. “Hello, mam. Is this the house of Miss (Y/n) (L/n)?”

His voice was kind, a british accent intertwining with his words like clouds in the sky. Any other day, you would probably be incredibly flustered by this attractive and muscular man ending up on your doorstep, but not today, not with Ghost gone. It just felt incomplete without him trying to push his furry head through the doorway to growl at the strange man. You had to swallow hard, biting back tears at the thought as you nodded your head. “Yes, that’s um- That’s me.” Your throat was too tight, voice too high, laced with too much stress and exhaustion.

A flash of remorse and regret passed over the mans face for a moment, and you definitely feared the worst. He cleared his throat and placed his hand in his pocket, pulling out a familiar leather strap with a silver buckle and silver tags. Your breath caught in your throat as a shaky hand reached out to gently brush against the collar. A whiff of pine and gunpowder caught in your throat, making you retract your hand to your chest so quickly as if you were burnt.

Tears flooded your eyes and down your cheeks as you let out a choked sob. “No, no, NO!” This couldn’t be happening, not Ghost. Not your sweet boy Who you couldn’t convince to get into bed with you at night, but you would wake up to him licking your face in the middle of the night as he laid on your chest. Not the big brute who would pull your dirty laundry into his bed while you were gone just because he missed you. Not your precious puppy who huffed and grumbled whenever you got the urge to have photoshoots because he was just such a gorgeous dog. Not your Ghost.

The man knelt down next to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder as he held the collar out to you once more, his voice deceivingly soft as it caressed your ears. “I’m sorry lass, he’s gone…”

Ghost sat in the back of a military vehicle, skull balaclava fit neatly over his face and covering the deep frown that pulled at his lips. Hybrids were never meant to find mates, it’s why they were supposed to be doped up with suppressants and kept away from normal society. They were the military’s bioweapons, nothing else. They weren’t people, they weren’t given the graces of normal lives, they didn’t get to enjoy life unless it was in the ridiculous way that Johnny seemed to milk joy from every part of their job to keep his spirits up. Simon almost forgot.

It was so easy to forget what kind of monster he was when your hands were so gentle, smoothing down and running through his fur so tenderly, cooing softly at him as you stared down at him with those big doe eyes of yours, humming softly as you filled his dish, surrounded by your comfort and scent, the comfort and scent of his mate.

His grip on his gun was especially tight, his teeth gritting as he imagined the devastation you were going to feel. He had fought tooth and nail against the entire squad to keep the collar, going as far as to challenge Price. But not even Ghost could hold his own in a fight against his squad and his alpha.

“Can ya’ believe the’re shippin us all the way to the bloody states? Downright mad lads.” Ghost shot a nasty glare at Johnny, making the poor boy practically wilt in place. Normally Ghost would be thankful for the distraction that Johnny provided, but not when he was being distracted from you. He could still remember the scent of your shampoo, the sound of your voice, the feel of your soft hands on his face as he ripped his head out of your grip. What he wouldn’t give for one last kiss right now. He had to bite back the tears that threatened to prick his eyes, a feeling so foreign that he couldn’t even remember the last time he cried.

He knew it was coming. It was all so perfect. He could leave during the day to meet up with the squad, go out on whatever stupid mission was required of them, whether it required the wolf or the man, and at the end of the day he would come back to you. He would come back to your soft giggles and your warm cuddles. He wasn’t the best at showing it, or the most affectionate, but god did he love you.

Turns out, they aren’t lying when they say one missed day is enough to knock medication out of your system. One day without his suppressants, and he had been drawn away from his pack formation by the most peculiar scent. Simon didn’t remember what he smelt like that day, but he remembered how it made him feel. Seeing you in the middle of the woods, humming so softly and sweetly to yourself through your earbuds, was like meeting god. His chest was suddenly tight, his knees almost too weak to hold him up, his heart thrumming in his chest, his fur bristling, a shiver running down his spine. He had to resist the urge to take off after you. But you were too sweet for him, too gentle, he would ruin you. So he turned away. Simon is nothing if not a man of patience and restraint, but walking away from you was the hardest thing in his life.

He had told himself that it was just not having the suppressants in his system that was driving him mad, that you were just a pretty girl and his instincts were reacting to the first female they found. But when he returned to base and felt no such thrumming in his heart or tightening in his drawers for any of the few females on base, he knew that it was more than instinct. Ghost stopped taking his suppressants after that. He would flush them down the toilet, throw them away, put them in his pillowcase, whatever it took to keep Price from finding out. Every day the pack would pass your house on their training regimen, just close enough that your scent could flood his nostrils and fill him with that shaky feeling of pure bliss.

One day though, you found him. Simon could never forget the look of pure awe and adoration as you caught sight of him through the trees, slowly getting down on your knees and holding your hand out as you cooed. “Such a pretty puppy, oh my goodness. Who do you belong to?” And that was the final nail in Simon’s coffin. Sweet thing you were, smart too. You didn’t even make eye contact upon first meeting, a surefire way to challenge any other wolf. Not Simon though, he knew that you would never challenge him like that.

When he returned to base that night, it was with a dopy grin under his skull balaclava, his hand absentmindedly over his heart. He had been careful to roll around in the dirt, scrubbing himself of any of your delicate scent. He made up some excuse to Price about disciplinary training, living in the wilds and whatnot. Whatever he had to say to stay with you.

God, it had been great. Getting to come home every night to you. Getting to relax on the couch with you, simply bask in your presence. You were like a goddess, his savior in this damned world. You would delight in playing with his paws that were almost as big as your tiny hands, completely unaware of how many lives they had crushed. You would let him lick at your face without the slightest idea of how many throats those jaws had ripped out mercilessly. You would change in front of him so peacefully, without the slightest idea that it was a man hungerly watching you. But Simon would never make a move. Even if you knew what he was. He didn’t deserve you, he couldn’t taint you with his filth. He was content to simply be with you, to exist with you, to bask in your presence as if it were the sun.

All it takes is one mistake.

“You wear perfume now Lt? Smells fuckin amazing, i’d rail ya smellin’ like that.” Soap’s teasing comment was easily brushed aside as one of his usual flirtatious remarks with no base, but the damage had already been done. Ghost had gotten complacent, used to having his cake and eating it too. So the one day that he didn’t fully cover your scent, of course a pack of male hybrids would notice. Simon made eye contact with Price from across the room, watching as he lifted his head and sniffed the air.

“Lieutenant. My office, now.” “Yes, sir.”

A deep sigh pulled from Price’s chest as he drug a hand down his face from his perch atop his chair behind his desk. Simon didn’t know what to expect, but he already had a million excuses ready on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for the signal to burst free. What he didn’t expect was for Price to reach into his drawer and pull out a plastic baggie of the little white pills that Simon had been decidedly not taking.

“Mind explainin’ why you’re clean fella?” A grunt. That was all Simon could muster. There was no reasonable excuse for that, and he knew it. Price’s eyes darkened with recognition as he gave a single curt nod. “That’s what I thought. You get one more night, Ghost.”

Simon’s eyes practically bulged out as he looked at Price, an obvious question in his gaze. Why? Price, ever vigilant, only sighed in response- the air leaving his lungs as if it were heavy and laden with history that Ghost could only imagine. “Say goodbye, son. You’re not gonna get another opportunity.”

This isn’t what Simon thought Price had meant. Moving the Task Force all the way to the bloody states. When you left for work that day, you took Simon’s heart with you. You surely didn’t even notice your favorite picture with your pup absent from it’s frame. A bitter chuckle left Ghost’s lips at the thought of how little you really saw about your environment. Even when Simon had been living with you as well as Ghost, you never noticed.

So as you laid in bed, sobbing your heart out and clutching his blanket close with one hand, the other hand so tight around the black leather strap what your knuckles were white; Simon was all too far away, pressing his chapped lips softly against the picture of you from a tiny cold cot in a base somewhere in america, trying not to do the same. He could picture your small frame, trembling as sob wracked through you and tore you up inside.

Why does loving something have to hurt so bad?

#simon ghost riley #cod #ghost mw2 #one shot #angst #no happy ending #Hurt #my writing #@Charliemwrites #1fur1 #my heart is breaking #but i'll live #it will just take some time #and some healing #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction

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lowkeyerror · 1 year

Text

Falling Fast pt 2

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: Hellhound reader, angst, spoilers for the show, good ending, there will be a part 3 but I wouldn't say this ends on a cliffhanger, Italics are Wednesday's vision

Summary: The vision that Wednesday had in the woods with Y/n stirs an unfamiliar feeling inside of her. It changes their relationship perhaps for the better. Y/n thinks she wants to ask Wednesday to the Rave'N

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist

Y/n was exhausted from her transformation and the battle she had with the monster. Her body was quick to lull to sleep, even in that of the uncomfortable beds in the nurse's quarters.

Wednesday, however, wasn't afforded the same luxury. Her mind raced with not only pictures of the monster, but images of Y/n from her vision.

What she witnessed made her heart ache for the girl. It felt like an invasion of privacy, something that Y/n should've been allowed to share on her own accord.

Wednesday had gotten the answer to the question she had asked Y/n before the monster interrupted them.

First, she saw the girl at an age much younger than she was now. A mere child, with a loving family. She looked like her mother, but the curse came from her father.

"The Hound is dangerous Y/n, you must learn to control it before it controls you"

" Dad, I'm scared," Y/n's voice trembled.

" You should be," her father's voice was stern. There was a small whimper from the child's lips.

It seemed to take Y/n a long time before she finally turned, she was years older in the next part in the vision. When she did, chaos had broken loose. She had been fighting with her parents.

" I wish I was never born. This stupid curse controls every ounce of my life, and I haven't even turned! I just want to be normal."

Her mother went to speak, but her father took over," You'll never be normal. You'll never be anything but a monster, just like me and my father before me. It's a curse Y/n, it doesn't fucking go away."

" Honey!"

" Curses can be broken. You just have to try," Y/n has tears streaming down her face.

" Not this one," her father says before he shifts into a hellhound.

His form charges Y/n and pins her to the ground. His teeth snap in his child's face as she screams and cries for help.

Y/n's mother tries to get involved, but the hellhound growls at her before smacking her away with his tail. Her mother crashes against the china cabinet and falls to the floor. Y/n's focus is on the slight burn mark on her mother's arm.

It's then that her eyes flash with embers behind them. She lets out a cry that can only be compared to being stabbed by a thousand knives. Then Y/n is gone, and a hellhound is in her place.

Y/n flips the other hound over and starts aggressively biting at it. Her mother screams. The beasts brawl with each other. They demolish the inside of the house. Each attack is a strike to kill.

It's when the older hound turns it’s attention to Y/n's mother that things quickly escalate. Her father stalks her mother, after knocking Y/n to the side. Her mother cowers in his presence, afraid of what he is capable of. Blood drips from his mouth, his daughter's blood. He lunges at the woman.

Before he can get to her, Y/n has sprung back up. Though she is wounded, she makes no mistake in going for the jugular. Her sharp canines dig into her father's throat. The hound shakes her head from left to right, jaws locked on her father's neck.

She doesn't stop until the hound is no longer a hound. The body of her human father hangs from her teeth. She drops him instantly. Her consciousness awakens from the mind of the hound. The dog whimpers before cowering away from the mangled man.

" I tol-d you, you're a monster," were her father's last words as his hands wrapped around his throat. A sick smile on his face as he took his last breath.

Y/n ran away after that. Her mother spent hours searching before she found her daughter unconscious. Y/n was unclothed, her body littered with cuts and burns from her father. The girl was barely breathing.

Her mother held her close. She wept for the girl. She wouldn't know how to fix this, how to make this right, how to take this pain away from her daughter?

That's when Wednesday awoke with the hound standing protectively over her. After witnessing that, Wednesday feelings for the girl changed. Wednesday's heart ached to protect Y/n. To make sure she'd never have to feel like that again.

When she saw the girl cringe after her transformation, it made her uncomfortable. Not because it was hard to watch, but because there was nothing she could do to alleviate the pain. Wednesday felt helpless, the feeling was foreign to her and wished to never feel it again.

The way that the girl could not stand after, made Wednesday shake to her core in anger. The monster would pay for this. She already knew that it was part human, and that gave her hope.

It gave her hope that she'd be able to wrap her hands around their throat while Thing stabbed their eyes out.

Wednesday meant what she said, Y/n would be safe, and no harm would come to her. For if it did, Wednesday did not know if she could forgive herself.

Her eyes softened as they trailed over the sleeping girl. It was hard for Wednesday to be vulnerable even when no one was watching, but she was convinced that Y/n deserved tenderness.

" Cara mia," it left her lips as a whisper. Her cold hand gently squeezed the sleeping girl's. Wednesday didn't say anything else, she simply sighed as she allowed herself to slouch back into the uncomfortable chair the nurse provided her with.

Things were different when Y/n was let out of the nurse's quarters. For one, some students began to speculate that she was the monster in the woods. Everyone was seemingly reintroduced to the fact that Y/n was a hellhound. There was no point in trying to clear her name once the gossip spread.

The second thing that changed was her relationship with Wednesday. The girl with the black school uniform refused to let Y/n out of her sight. If Wednesday couldn't be there, she'd substitute herself for Thing, Enid, or Eugene, but she never left the girl unsupervised.

It was her way of showing that she cared. Wednesday also requested that Y/n practice her violin during the hour that she had dedicated to writing her novel. She said it gave her the perfect ambiance to inspire her writing.

Y/n loved the attention she received from Wednesday. She was scared that her feelings for the girl were in vain, but the more time they spent together, the more she changed her mind.

There were still three things that had Y/n worried. Wednesday's obsession with the monster (that they found out was a hyde), Xavier, and Tyler.

The problem with the hyde was the biggest issue. Y/n didn't want Wednesday to be in harm's way, but she said she would stand by her side. She refused to let the Addams get hurt. Y/n had faith in Wednesday, but she was also terrified at the possibility of losing the girl.

Xavier and Tyler were minor threats to her. She didn't fear that Wednesday liked them. It was quite clear to her that Wednesday was not interested in either boy. To say Wednesday was using them sounded harsh, because the term "using" usually implied manipulation.

However, Wednesday never manipulated these boys. She was always straightforward with her intent. Never doing anything that suggested that she wanted to pursue either boy romantically.

Yet both had thought that they had some claim on Wednesday. Which in turn meant neither of them liked Y/n much.

Xavier tried to get Wednesday to consider the rumors that were going around. That plan backfired quickly when she simply stated that she was there and saw what happened.

Tyler just kept insisting there was something off about Y/n. That there was something about her that wasn't right. Wednesday refuted his claim by stating that she and Y/n were alike in that way.

Amongst all the murders, rumors, and treachery was the Rave'N dance. Y/n did not like participating in school activities. She had skipped the dance before, but this time she was hesitant.

" You should ask Wednesday to the dance," Enid spoke as she walked across campus with Y/n.

" Wednesday would never go to the dance," the hellhound dismissed her immediately.

" … unless you were the one to ask her. She can't say no to you," Enid argued.

Y/n didn't miss a beat in responding," She can, and she has."

" This will be different, trust me. Plus, be real, you totally want to go with her," Enid's teasing earned her a soft glare from Y/n.

" I don't want to go to the Rave'N but if I had to go, like life or death, I would go with Wednesday."

Enid squeals at the admission," This is fantastic, we have to get you an outfit. A dress… or suit, you're definitely more on the suit side of things."

" Hey! I could pull off a dress."

Enid nodded" A dress it is."

" On second thought- wait Enid, I am not going to the dance."

" Whatever you say."

Enid lets it go after that, but now all Y/n can think about is what Wednesday would wear if they went together. The thought played around her mind for days. The courage to ask the girl out, not willing itself to Y/n.

It's not until the night of the dance, when Thing knocks on her door with both a suit and a dress, encouraging the girl to ask Wednesday, that a fire is lit under the girl.

The dress is undoubtedly for Wednesday. It's easy to tell from its all black coloring and the unique style of the dress. The suit is a deep maroon color, almost like old blood. The trim is black with patterns similar to the one's on Wednesday's dress. It fits Y/n perfectly, Thing gives the girl thumbs up.

She didn't have time to do anything special to her hair as Thing rushed her out of her room and to Wednesday's.

" Why are we going so fast?"

Thing knocked on the door before Y/n got the chance. Wednesday opened the door looking as if she was on a mission.

" Y/n."

Her tone was mostly normal, but there is a tinge of surprise to it.

" I don't know what I'm doing here, if I'm being honest. Thing showed up in my room with this suit, and then I kept hearing Enid's persistent voice in my head. And I know this really last minute, but I'd really like to go to the dance with you Wednesday."

" Y/n I- I don't have anything to wear on such short notice. Otherwise, I would-"

Y/n shoved the dress in Wednesday's hands. The girl stopped speaking immediately. She kept her eyes locked on the dress," How did you get this?"

Y/n pointed down to the hand on the floor, who was trying it's best to look inconspicuous. Wednesday's eyes shifted from Y/n to Thing a few times before a sigh escaped her lips.

" Give me 15 minutes," she grumbled. She motioned for Thing to follow her into the room, then slammed the door in Y/n's face.

The hound could hear the dark haired girl scolding the hand as she waited for Wednesday to re-emerge.

She was ready in less than 15 minutes. She took extra time to get her nerves in check. This was new to her and she hated that. Yet her hatred felt dull compared to the unruly pounding of her chest.

When Y/n caught her first glimpse of Wednesday, she felt time stand still.

" I've never seen the darkness shine so brightly."

" Don't ever say anything that cheesy again," Wednesday commented, averting her gaze from Y/n.

" You look amazing, Wednesday."

Her eyes unintentionally rake up Y/n's body," I could say the same about you."

" Wednesday? What's going on, what happened to staking out the cave," Eugene had appeared in front of the pair, a look of confusion crossing his features.

" Eugene I-"

" It's my fault, Eugene. I asked Wednesday to the dance about 15 minutes ago, I didn't mean to ruin your steak out," Y/n apologized to the boy.

" I understand, there's no hard feelings. I could always go check it out by myself."

" Don't go alone. It's too dangerous. We'll go together tomorrow night, understood ?"

The boy nodded, the dejection was clear on his face. Y/n felt bad for ruining whatever plans the two had. She was going to apologize to Wednesday as well, but the girl was already headed into the dance.

Y/n trailed behind her. Suddenly not in the mood for the dance anymore. She cringed when she saw the intense white theme that the dance had taken on.

" I'm going to go get us some drinks," Wednesday walked over to the punch bowl while Y/n stood in place.

The hellhound watched as Wednesday was approached by Enid and her date, followed by Xavier. Little did she know that Xavier was talking about her.

" Y/n is dangerous. You don't know what she did to her father."

That line got Wednesday's attention. Her glare increased tenfold, as did her grip on the drinks.

" I suggest, you don't talk about things that you don't know shit about. If you bring that up again or if I hear whispers of it down the hall, I will not hesitate to drain all the blood in your body. Do I make myself clear?"

" Is there a problem over here?" Y/n couldn't stand on the sidelines any longer. Not with the harsh look Wednesday was giving the boy.

Xavier clenched his jaw, eyes focused on Wednesday," Crystal."

He stormed away after that, leaving the two alone. Wednesday was feeling a tremendous amount of guilt for knowing Y/n's secret. She wanted to tell her, but she didn't know how.

" What was that about?"

" I need to talk to you. In a less crowded area," Wednesday avoided eye contact, it made Y/n nervous.

The taller girl led Wednesday to a semi-secluded area outside the dance. They both sat and Y/n patiently waited for the girl to speak.

" When we were in the forest, I had a vision. It was about you and your family. I saw… something that I wasn't supposed to see."

Y/n became stiff, her body was rigid. Her mind folded with images of the only thing that the girl could be speaking about.

" I didn't know how to tell you what I had seen. I knew that was extremely private and I-"

" How much did you see?" Y/n couldn't bring herself to look at the girl.

" The last thing I saw was your mother finding you unconscious."

Y/n's hands were folded together tightly as her knee bounced. The grip was deathly, Wednesday could see that. She wanted to hold Y/n's hand, to give her a little comfort, but she didn't know how to initiate anything like that.

Luckily for her, Y/n needed the comfort for what she was about to say. The girl doesn't hesitate to reach for Wednesday's hand. The Addams girl doesn't hesitate to interlock their hands, either.

" I was in pretty bad shape after… that. Physically and emotionally. My mom did everything she could do, but that didn't change the way I felt. Eventually the news got out, and everywhere I went I was a monster. They didn't know about the hound, but a girl who murdered her father was monster enough."

"You're not a monster. He was going to kill you and your mother. You were protecting yourself and her."

Y/n let out a forced chuckle," You sound like the therapist. My mom and I couldn't stay in that town any longer. She packed us up and we moved. I was still struggling with fitting in after everything. She heard about Nevermore, and the rest is history."

" Is it different here?"

" It was, but now everyone thinks I'm the murderer. They think I'm a monster, just like he said they would."

" Look at me, Y/n. I'm getting tired of saying this, so this will be the last time. You are not a monster. You have never been nor will you ever be a monster. You have too much kindness in your heart, too much compassion, to even be considered for that role. There's only one person who can tell you what you are."

" Me?"

Wednesday slightly shakes her head," Me."

" And what do you think I am, Wednesday?"

Wednesday eyes shift so subtly that it's barely noticeable. Her ice-like hand squeezed Y/n's warm one.

" You are cara mia," Wednesday doesn't say another word, abruptly standing, pulling Y/n's hand with her," Let's dance."

Y/n doesn't know what the phrase means, but for some reason it makes her heart swell.

Dancing with Wednesday was more like watching Wednesday dance. Her moves were eccentric, just like everything else about her. Her moves seemed to inspire more people to join the dance floor, it was impressive.

" Do you not dance at all?" Wednesday asked as she noticed Y/n's lack of movement.

" I tango, but that's all I've got," Y/n responded.

" Show me," Wednesday extended her hand and Y/n took it, pulling the girl into her with slight force.

Their faces were centimeters away from each other. Wednesday's breath hitched, which made Y/n smile a bit. The taller girl led them in a tango.

" Why only tango?"

Y/n spun the girl outward, then back with a slight turn, and ended on a dip. As she brought the girl back up, she answered," My mother told me the tango was the only dance I needed to know to make anyone swoon for me. It's a dance of precision, the movements are sharp yet fluid. It's a dance of passion."

" My mother and father say similar things. They call it the dance of devoted lovers," Wednesday's gaze is sharp on Y/n.

The song ends, and they finish with a brilliant stomp of their feet. They were out of breath, but neither girl moved to break apart.

That's when Y/n felt something drip on her. She looked up just in time to see the red liquid spring out from the sprinkler system. Her attention turned back to her date, who was smiling as it rained on her.

Y/n had already been wearing red, so the blood didn't bother her too much. It was just a prank, she felt the panic was unnecessary.

" They couldn't even spring for real pig's blood. It's paint."

Things break down even further from there as students start to scatter. People are bumping into the pair left and right. Someone bumps into Wednesday and Y/n can immediately tell she's having a vision.

" Eugene is in the woods. He's in danger."

She takes off sprinting and Y/n isn't far behind her.

" Wednesday! Wednesday, wait."

" We haven't got the time."

Y/n placed her hand on the girl's shoulder," The hound can sniff him out."

Wednesday adamantly disagreed," No."

" Wednes-"

" I said no. No one else needs to get hurt."

Y/n stared at the girl briefly before making the executive decision to turn anyway. Wednesday was seething, but as the dog bowed to her, she climbed on its back.

" Find him, so you can shift back, and I can scold you properly."

The hound was off after her command. Y/n already knew Eugene's scent. It was all over the woods, there were many turns and twists, like he had been in distress.

" Eugene!" Wednesday called out for him as Y/n followed the boy's confusing trail.

Then her ears perked up. She could hear him running. Y/n started running at an alarm speed. Wednesday had to grip the hound's hair just to stay on. Y/n could also hear the hyde, it was far closer than she was.

Y/n could hear him fall.

" Wednesday, over here."

Then he screamed. He was in their line of sight. Wednesday hopped off of the hound and ran to him. The hound stayed where it was, preparing to strike in case the hyde returned.

Eugene wasn't moving. His abdomen was gushing blood.

" We have to get him to a hospital."

The hound wasted little time, gently scooping both teens onto it's back. It ran quickly but carefully out the woods and into Jericho.

The city was awake and afraid as they saw a beast barreling towards them. They called the police to report it. Soon sirens were chasing after the hellhound, spiking it's already fragile nerves.

When it stopped in front of the hospital. It kneeled so Wednesday could get off, and she screamed for help.

The police heard her screams and held their guns at the hellhound. Y/n cowered in fear. She watched from the corner of her eyes as Eugene was wheeled away by the professionals

Wednesday stood boldly in front of the hellhound," Don't shoot her." Her tiny frame didn't cover Y/n much, but the sheriff signaled the men to hold their fire.

" Put the guns away," Wednesday didn't move from her spot. The officers didn't waiver waiting for a command from the sheriff.

" Listen, Addams-"

" No, you listen. I will not let you make her out to be some monster because she isn't. She just helped me save Eugene's life, and you're all out here pointing guns at her. Now put the fucking guns away, or you'll have a real monster to deal with, and that monster is me," Wednesday no longer had her usual composure. She was angry, frightened, and panicked.

The sheriff commanded the other officers to put their weapons away. Once Wednesday saw that they had all implied, she turned to face the hound.

The hound was still in a bowed position, afraid to move. Wednesday rested her hand on it's head," It's safe, cara mia. Come back to me."

The hellhound hesitated for a moment, but with another gentle caress from Wednesday, Y/n shifted back into her human form.

" Hand me a jacket," Wednesday commanded, and the sheriff complied. She draped it over the hellhound.

" What is going on here?" The sheriff asked, but Wednesday didn't answer him.

" Are you hurt?" Wednesday was focused on Y/n. Her hand lay flat against Y/n's cheek. She searched the girl for injuries.

Y/n grabbed her wrist," I'm ok, a little sore, but fine. What about Eugene?"

" I don't know, they took him."

" Can someone explain to me what's going on right now?" Sheriff Galpin said sternly.

Wednesday turns to the man in frustration," What's going on is that your incompetent staff has yet to catch the hyde wrecking havoc across this town. It's almost killed me, Y/n, and Eugene yet Jericho's finest hasn't done anything about it. "

" Listen here, little girl, the only reason you and your friends keep getting hurt is because you keep poking your nose where it doesn't belong," he shouted back at her.

Y/n stood on wobbly legs in front of Wednesday. A dim fire roared behind her eyes.

" You don't talk to her like that," there was a low growl in her throat.

" Don't get fresh with me, doggo," the sheriff shot back. Y/n was ready to strike the man, but then Principal Weems appeared.

" Enough! Stop antagonizing my students," Weems towered over the man, still stained from the paint at the dance.

Her head snapped back to the kids," And you two, go back to school grounds. This matter will be dealt with between the sheriff and myself."

" And what about Eugene? He could be dead." Wednesday pressed on.

" I will alert you of Mr. Ottinger's condition as soon as I am made aware. But now I'm telling you both to go back to the school," Weems stares down Wednesday before her eyes shift to Y/n.

Wednesday took a glance at the girl and her demeanor softened. The hellhound said she was well, but she didn't look like it. Her eyes were still fiery, her glare fixed on the sheriff, but her body shook like a leaf. The condensation on her face was a true sign that she was unwell.

Wednesday knew what Weems was implying. As much as it frustrated her, she relented for Y/n's sake.

" Miss Thornhill will escort you back to Nevermore," Weems spoke with no room for argument.

Wednesday clenched her teeth, but pulled Y/n along with her as they silently climbed into Miss Thornhill's car.

The orange haired teacher tried to make small talk, but neither girl spoke. As soon as the car stopped, Wednesday was dragging Y/n out of the car. Instead of leading them to her shared room with Enid, Wednesday led the pair to Y/n's room.

When they got into the room, Y/n sat on the bed wordlessly. Her bones burned from the transformation and her muscles ached from the running. She was trying to process all that had happened.

" I told you not to transform."

Y/n's head snapped to the girl," If we were any slower, Eugene could've died. Hell, he could still be dead, Wednesday."

" They were ready to shoot you out there. You could've been killed. What good would it be if both of you were dead, Y/n, tell me."

" Wednesday-"

" Don't 'Wednesday' me. How am I supposed to live with myself knowing that this is the second time you've almost died because of me?"

Y/n cut her off," I'm a big girl, Wednesday. I can take care of myself."

" You think I don't know that? I just- you don't understand."

Y/n got off the bed to come face to face with Wednesday. She was careful not to touch the girl. Her eyes were desperate as they locked with Wednesday's," Then help me understand."

Wednesday's eyes were wild when they searched Y/n's face. Her face was still covered in the paint. Her dress clung to her skin with the mixture of paint and real blood. Her heart was pounding harder than she ever thought possible.

Her mind was racing with thoughts, but then they stopped all at once. Her body took over and in one jagged movement she placed her lips on Y/n's.

Her hands shot up, holding the girl's face. Y/n's hands were trying to bring Wednesday as close to her as possible. The girls were in a frenzy. Both inexperienced, but both having such a deep craving for one another that it didn't matter.

Wednesday broke the kiss by placing a trail of kisses down the side of Y/n's neck and shoulder all the way to her hand, and back up again to her lips.

" Cara mia, I can't lose you," Wednesday said breathlessly, her gaze full of worry as the truth left her lips.

Y/n smiled," I still don't know what that means, but I promise you won't lose me."

" It means my beloved."

" Oh."

Wednesday looked away from her. Y/n was gentle as she turned Wednesday's face back to her.

" I like it."

Wednesday tried to return to her normal unbothered facade," One usually responds with mon cher. It means, my darling."

" Say it again," Y/n encouraged the girl.

Wednesday was slightly surprised, but she didn't let it show," Cara mia, your pain is my pain. I need to know you're safe."

" Your battles are my battles. I cannot let you face them alone, mon cher."

They were in a staring contest. Both stubborn with hearts that were full. Y/n was the one to stick her hand first. Wednesday put her in Y/n's.

" Together?" The hellhound questioned hopefully.

Wednesday nodded curtly, hiding the smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

" Together."

That night Wednesday stayed in Y/n's room. She even borrowed a pair of clothes from the girl. They slept in the same bed, but left ample space between each other. That didn't matter though, because they drifted closer to each other as the night progressed.

It seemed like a wanting at first, but upon deeper inspection it was clear that they needed each other. Their masterpiece was forming, but it wasn't a predictable exhibit. Their masterpiece was covered in blood and burned by ash. It was both of them and it was beautiful.

Pt 2 Taglist ( I thought I'd tag you guys since you asked for a part 2): @namesduntmatter @anticr @screechcat @cantbecreative

#lowkeyerror #wednesday imagine #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #eugene ottinger #enid sinclair #xavier thorpe #principal weems #wednesday addams fic

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drkmgs · 1 year

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I never craved attention, until I tasted yours

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings: kissing, alcohol and nicotine mentioned...

You didn't care anymore, who listened or not. You were so done with this world. You were physically and emotionally done. You gave hints— no, scratch that you seek out help, but nothing changed.

Okay, maybe it's a little overreacting, it did let you see the positive side for a while, but then you went way back to your bad habits. Alcohol and Nicotine. Well, the alcohol part was now less than usual, because of your damaged liver made by years of drinking, so you hang on to Nicotine.

Before you transferred to Nevermore, you would easily finish two packs of cigarettes every week, but when Principal Weems made it clear to you, that smoking was prohibited— you'd still managed to smuggle one pack for a month.

You were glad that the rules helped a little with stopping your habits, but when loneliness and depression hits. You just need an outlet. You're currently on your third cigarette, and your fingers were frozen, because of the cold breeze of winter. It didn't help that you were down the lake on an empty Island hiding from potential school staff or classmates.

Honestly, you thought you'll be caught any time now, but it seems like nobody cares. You have been doing this for months and yet nobody has asked you about your night routine, but there was one particular person who had an interest.

Y/N: Jesus Christ! Wednesday!

You whisper-shout— accidentally inhaling the smoke that is supposed to be breathed out, you coughed. You were shocked by her sudden appearance.

Wednesday: So this is where you go to every night.

Y/N: Yes, now you can go and find some monsters in the woods. You have nothing to do here.

You didn't want to sound mean, but right now, you just want to relax and not be under her judging gaze. You took another drag from the cigarette you were holding, ignoring her. She wasn't budging. She just stared at you, while you puff out the smoke.

Wednesday: What do you feel when you smoke?

Y/N: What?

You got off guard by her question. She sighed.

Wednesday: What benefits do you get by smoking?

Y/N: Besides dying early, nothing really. Now, I smoke out of habit. Why'd you ask?

You waited for an answer from her, but nothing came and you felt her gaze upon you, so you looked at her. You had to bend down to her height to check if she isn't in a kind of trance.

Wednesday was captivated by how good you look even when you're doing something you're not supposed to. Your features under the moonlight didn't help at all— it made things worse for her.

Y/N: Wednesday?

You snap your fingers in front of her to get her back into reality. The next thing you know was her lips on yours. You dropped your cigarette, which made you curse under your breath, but your attention got taken away by the lips moving on yours.

You pulled her by her waist. She tugged on your shirt to get closer than before. Making out wasn't on your goal list, but it is something you're gladly doing now. You pinned her against the tree, where you were leaning earlier.

When you pulled apart both of you were panting, and you leaned your head against hers, to keep you steady because this kiss made more impact than the cigarette you were smoking for the last years. You searched for Wednesday's eyes, to get something out of her as to why she did what she did.

Wednesday: I never craved attention, until I tasted yours.

Y/N: I think I have a solution to lessen my smoking habit.

You smiled against her lips before continuing where you both stopped.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega #wednesday #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #drkmgsstories

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gardenofnoah · 7 months

Text

turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor

tags: nanami kento x reader, princess!reader, violence, injuries (minor), non-graphic descriptions of hunting, medium burn, sort of enemies to lovers but mostly scared strangers to unfortunate lovers, the fall of a dynasty, character death (sorry), reincarnation, bittersweet ending. mdni.

wc: 6.5k ish

notes: for @medusashima’s collab—indulging myself (and y’all) in my take on one of my favorite stories. i hope you like it 💘 this is based on the tale of the two fossils found wrapped up in each other in an unlikely pairing (which is made even better by the fact that it is not fiction and it happened!! love is real nerd!!). there’s a really phenomenal webtoon called burrow (by saige9) that makes me cry and that y’all should read immediately. anyway, enjoy. love u

summary: the world is at its end, and an unlikely pair finds solace in each other. to love is an animal thing.

it shocks you, how gentle a tug it takes to unravel everything that you were. only a thing between two others—before: a princess on a hill, the unraveling, and who you’ll be after.

your feet stomp clumsily over dirt and jagged rock—softened soles split open easily with each stride. but, ever your grandmother's frightened little rabbit, not even that searing pain is enough to thwart you in your descent down the hill—away from what is surely certain death. nothing but the animal need to survive pushing you forward—to get to whatever comes next.

it happened too fast—the only way a dynasty can fall to those privileged enough not to notice the slow decline of the society around them until it's too late. your family spoke of pockets of uprisings as if they were fictitious and theoretical—some grandiose, far away prediction of the old crone that haunted the village below your compound, and certainly not the men concealed by shade of trees that had been pruned by your family for centuries, salivating but patient for the perfect moment to strike.

and then they were dead. all of them but you.

a childhood of exploring the grounds of your family home proves useful in knowing without much thought which paths lead farthest from the carnage at your back, but your fright makes you uncoordinated—mechanical in your stride. the price to stop for even a second is far too high, and the hounds that howl after you in the dark serve as a constant reminder of the consequence of hesitation. so, bruised and bleeding, you keep on.

you run until your lungs threaten to collapse and then on farther. your feet carry you through unfamiliar wood, but in your rush, your brain rationalizes that the repercussions of trespassing cannot be much worse than what's behind you. and that seems to be the truth—right up until the real consequence drops out of the tree above you and pins you to the earth below, a blade to your throat.

gritted teeth snap too close to your face. you hear a deep voice—maybe a deeper threat, something to raise the hair on the back of your neck if you could only focus on the words. the world spins and your mind struggles to make sense of the sudden stop in motion, but something far more animal inside you decides that it's had enough. against any remaining survival instinct, you feel all tension bleed from your body—the stranger's face comes into clearer view right as you go limp underneath him. resignation wins out—your limbs wouldn't move if you pleaded with them to.

blond eyebrows meet hairline as your attacker is caught off guard by your forfeiture. "what are you—"

once distant howls growing nearer cut him off. he looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed at something he cannot yet see. you watch from outside yourself as he turns back toward you. dark eyes meet your own and you see the decision make itself—in one instant you are free of his bodyweight, and in the next you are weightless as he hauls you over his shoulder.

he makes it no more than 10 feet down the path before the last bit of adrenaline leaves you and is replaced by a sudden, blinding pain with no identifiable source. you feel it everywhere—all of the seemingly inconsequential injuries catching up with you now that you've stopped moving. the receding tree line is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

the warmth that surrounds you is decadent. you curl into it, reluctant to break the spell of sleep. but then you remember.

you shoot upright, sending at least three layers of blankets rolling off of you. you pinch the fabric of the top one between your fingers—alpaca. not native, but farmed here over the last century or so. you know (and had been told) that it was unbecoming of a princess to hold so much commonplace knowledge. but then again, status matters little now, and this blanket is soft. you're grateful to know the beast it was made from.

it hurts, but you coax your head into swiveling around to survey your surroundings, surprised when you find that it's very clearly someone's home. it's old—some of the wooden boards that line the walls have started to bow against the nails that drove them into the framework of the house, and daylight peaks through the cracks. the bed you rest in can barely be called that—an old futon cushion atop bundles of straw. but it's warm, and you slept. someone has been taking care of you. the thought is sobering; the anxiety that comes with it is enough to hold you to the bed for the foreseeable future.

but your stomach growls, and the bodily betrayal forces you to move. you do it slowly, kicking both feet out from under the blankets. to see them bandaged is startlingly unexpected.

your memories until now are fuzzy at best, but the last thing you distinctly recall is the feeling of sharpened metal biting into your skin. there are few ways you can fathom connecting the dots from that moment to this—swaddled in blankets with your wounds tended to. it leaves you on edge.

on two feet, you sway a bit—the hunger feeds the vertigo that spins the surroundings in your peripheral. one hand braced on the bed now behind you, you blink until things settle. you take a step forward, and the pain is shocking—your feet are clearly more injured than they'd felt at the time, but there is only one way out of this room. you press on.

the heavy wooden door opens into a one room cottage. it's old, and not in the well-loved and well-lived way—the dilapidated structure and lack of any real homely qualities tells you immediately that it's current inhabitant is more of a recent opportunist than a longtime homemaker. that distinction mattered little now, though, and you suppose you should be grateful for your stranger's resourcefulness.

you creep further into the room without a sound until you find yourself in the middle of it. crouched and defensive, until the realization hits you—you see all four walls and are perplexed to find that you are completely alone.

the room is little more than a crooked wooden table and a futon pad on the floor. there are remnants of a fireplace in the center of the room—mortar and brick crumbling up wooden slats toward the roof, but still useful with still-burning embers inside. truly, it's more primitive than livable—there are weapons and tools strung up along the wooden panels of the walls, and animal hides hang in any space between metal and wood. but it's warm, and it's a reminder of what is at stake. what should spur anxiety brings only confusion—when cost of survival is so high, why add another body to the burden?

you forget yourself until the heavy fall of footsteps outside the door reignites your adrenaline. you watch, wide eyed and frozen, as the door picks a fight with whoever is on the other side of it. a weight smacks solidly into it once, twice, and a third time before it opens with a heavy groan. in the daylight, your captor is revealed to you.

hard eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, and then narrow in suspicion. you're still as he takes in all of you, and suddenly very aware of the nightgown you escaped your home in, still hanging off your body. you fight the urge to withdraw into yourself—you know it’s not the time to cower.

he eyes you for a moment more, and then drops a heavy pack on the floor next to him, and busies himself with unloading. you watch as he pulls out tools that look unfamiliar to you—though you suppose any tool would. it's not as if you or your family ever had a need for them.

you watch him work and are surprised to find that he's...handsome. jaw set at a hard angle with scars that wrap around the slope of one side, he's rugged in a way you'd never been taught to find appealing. he is unlike the men that sought after your hand with promises of riches and comfortable living. he is unlike anyone you've seen before, truthfully.

"um—"

"is there something you need?"

his coldness stuns you for a moment. you're not sure what you were expecting—you'd no real reason to anticipate any kindness from the man, but the care by which your feet were wrapped had led your mind in that foolish direction anyway.

you fight the urge to draw your limbs into yourself like a startled turtle. "oh—i just. wanted to thank you, i suppose. for helping me."

he looks up from his sorting to meet your eyes, and the disdain in them feels like a physical wound. he drops the tool in his hand with a sharp thud against the floor, and it makes you jump.

"once you've healed, you will leave."

you exhale sharply. it makes sense, of course—it is no small ask of him to allow you to stay even until you're healed. even so, the reality of the world that awaits you carries a weight to it—it lurks around the periphery of the tiny cabin, waiting for you to poke your head out.

then comes the loss—the blood that still stains your fingertips and the hem of your nightgown. you bow your head—out of shame or grief, you're not sure—and turn on your heel, right back into the room you came from. you shut the door behind you quietly, and you don't make it to the bed. you sink to your haunches and gravity pins you there, head in hands as your mind reintroduces you to each of the ghosts that now have a tight grip on both your ankles.

it's dark when you emerge, once again driven by hunger or thirst, or some other base need to stay alive despite every glaring sign not to.

you commit yourself to stealth—to staying out of your stranger's way, as much as you can before you take your leave. the dark of the cabin hides you in your trek out of your hiding place—unfortunately, it also hides the solid object on the floor, laid directly in front of your door. your foot catches it and it clangs, the metallic echo ringing in your ears.

you curse under your breath, bending down to feel around in the blackness for whatever you hit. you startle when your fingers hit something unexpectedly soft. you squint, and suck in a breath when you realize what you're holding—a piece of bread. rather, half of a loaf, with a cut of meat nearby, on the metal plate that you’d kicked. you blink, like if you do it enough, the mirage will dissipate and leave only dark wood behind. but it doesn't—the bread gives some as your fingers squeeze around it as if to test it's trustworthiness. you decide to stop looking the gift horse in its mouth, and recede back the dark of your room, food in hand.

oddly enough, it becomes a regular occurrence. you grow accustomed to expecting a plate of food by your door every night—a seemingly ironic luxury, given your reality now. you hardly see your stranger—you've no idea when he has the opportunity to leave food by your door unnoticed, give his penchant for absence. puzzling still is that the food you're given varies, as if he intends for you to have a fully balanced diet in the middle of a societal collapse.

he doesn’t stop at the food, either—after a few nights spent in your room, he makes his first real appearance in the daylight. a knock at your door rouses you from what’s become a habit of mid-afternoon naps, in lieu of staring at the splintered walls of what was quickly beginning to feel like a cage instead of a place of healing. you pull the door open to find your stranger towering over you—leering down at you with the same discontent he had before. only now, he holds something in his hands, and extends them to you.

“there’s a stream at the edge of the boundary.”

he thrusts what’s in his hands to yours, and you realize that it’s clothing—not in the best shape, but certainly better than the blood-crusted nightgown you still wear. he says no more, and for once you’re grateful for his curt demeanor. he turns on his heel and stalks out of the cabin, back to whatever the outside world has to offer him. after a moment, you follow his path, for the first time since you’d arrived.

it stuns you for a moment, how sinister the land looked in the dark, and how different it looks now. the sun shines hot down on the wheatgrass that sways gently in the breeze. it picks up a lock of your hair and you feel lighter with it.

you walk where you assume you should—down a thinly-worn path between the grass. you find it eventually: a small stream, just wide and deep enough for you to bathe in if you crouch. you turn your head to each side, squinting in your search for prying eyes—you find no one, but it’s still wholly uncomfortable to undress in the open like this.

your reservations leave you the minute you step into the water. warmed by the sun with a sweeping current, you let out a guttural moan that would’ve certainly earned you a chastising from your grandmother for its crudeness. you can’t help it—the caked on dirt and grime dissolves under your fingers and leaves you feeling better than you ever have. there is a slight sting in the soles of your feet—that it is slight is surprising to you, and a harrowing reminder of the clock that continues to tick out of your favor.

days bleed into weeks. your feet heal earlier than you expect them too, and the guilt you carry is worse than the wound. you know you’ve reached the end of your stay, but you can’t get yourself to leave. not when your stranger still insists on taking care of you. the anticipation is sickening—instead of sitting and waiting to be shooed away, you decide to earn your stay. hard work for someone who’d never worked a day, but the determination proves stronger than the fatigue.

you clean. it’s the only thing you can think to do, and truthfully, it’s necessary. you haul water in old containers on your shoulder from the stream, and you wash the dust away until the floors shine and the windows are clear again. you do this everyday—finding something to clean and fixating on it until the sun reaches the other side of the horizon. today is no different—you set your sights on the ash in the fireplace, using a metal pan to scoop it into a stray tarp to carry outside when you’re done.

you’re almost finished when you hear the now familiar sound of boots scraping the stone outside. you tense, but you don’t stop, pulling another pile of stale smelling soot onto the tarp as your stranger opens the door. you hear him stop behind you, but you don’t turn.

“what are you doing?” the tone is not as harsh as you’re used to—a little fatigued, mostly inquisitive.

“cleaning,” you say softly, pulling up at each corner of the canvas and watching the ash collide into neat little heaps in the center, “i’m almost done—i’ll be out of your way.”

you get to your feet, discard in hand, and turn to look at him. his strong brow furrows as he looks at you, like there’s something about what he sees that he can’t understand. against your best interest, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“i’m sorry, it’s just—i never learned your name.”

the look he levels you with makes you wish you’d never asked. his expression gives away nothing, but it tells you enough.

“how are your feet?”

your stomach drops—all of your attempts at earning your place for naught after all. but you stand in front of him now—to lie to him would be foolish at best.

you can barely raise your voice above a whisper. “healed.”

he studies you for a moment more, and it’s too much for you. your eyes fall to a crack in the floor, and distantly you wish you’d shrink down to slip inside of it, never to be seen again.

“tomorrow i will show you how to trap.” he gruffs, finality lacing his tone. your eyes snap to his but he’s already turning, half way out the door before he stops. he turns his head, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“kento,” he mutters, barely audible and strange meeting your ears, “my name is kento.”

and then he’s gone again—leaving you standing there with a hand full of dirt and no way to discern your left from right as your world tilts on its axis, if only slightly—but noticeable and disruptive all the same.

you don’t sleep well that night—startled out of a twilight sleep in what appears to be the dark hours of the morning by the rapping of knuckles on your door. kento nods to you in a greeting of his own, turning swiftly on his heel and heading toward the front door. you follow him dutifully, pulling over your shoulders the blanket you’d snagged before you left the warmth of your bed for the chill of the morning. the grass is cool and dewey under your bare feet, and it’s a quiet luxury you find yourself reveling in as you pad along behind him. you can hardly see him in the dark and yet you keep up, somehow—you know there’s too much at stake to lag behind.

true to his word, he teaches you how to trap. solely by doing—few words are exchanged between you as he trudges into the stream and hauls out a weaved basket attached to a rope, fastened to the shoreline by a stray branch. the light that creeps over the horizon begins to illuminate his work—silvery tails gleam as they flick back and forth from inside the cage. you know better than to be sad, but you feel it anyway. it’s silly to feel a kinship with the creatures, not even sentient enough to know that there is no escape for them—but you know, and the weight of that is a tangible thing.

he teaches you how to prepare the fish, then—and you get through it, if not only through sheer determination to not throw up in front of kento. the sun rises and illuminates other opportunities to learn—he teaches you about the native plants, only in simple directions of pointing to a patch of green with an accompanied “don’t touch”, or “fine to eat”. it’d feel patronizing if it wasn’t all so overwhelming—he had a knowledge of things you’d never dreamed of before. all you can feel is excitement that he’s willing to share it with you.

as the sun begins to set, he brings you to the garden—a small patch of land, seemingly unassuming until you step inside. there are fruiting plants everywhere you look—fat, red tomatoes and vining, prickly cucumbers, complete with rows of leafy greens and cabbages. you can’t begin to imagine how he’d managed to grow all of this by himself. his nightly food gifts start to make more sense.

you work side by side, pulling ripe crop from each plant and placing them into a metal canister—usually used for mechanical purposes, but at the end of the world, you find many uses for what you have. you feel emboldened somehow with your hands in the dirt next to his, and the words leave you before you have a moment to reconsider; you tell him of where you’d come from, and of your descent down the hill. you think of the kin you’d left behind, and you feel detached as you tell him of the loss—an observation if nothing else, as if you’d sat on a shoreline and watched the tide flood in.

he doesn’t react—not to your noble status, and not to the death—he’s quiet as he moves on to each plant, only the pattering sound of what he harvests hitting the tin bottom of his canister. you don’t mind—there’s no reaction you’d expect or find helpful, and for some reason, his presence is enough. you find it odd that weeks ago his footsteps incited real fear in your veins, and now he’d spent the day teaching you new ways to be useful. it was a strange and intimate gratitude, but one you felt nonetheless.

you find you see him more now, with your newfound ability to contribute and the determination to do just that. days are spent hauling fresh catches out of the stream, and hunting down small mammals to supplement your diet. you watch him closely—the flex and twist of his torso with the pull of the bow, the way he narrows his focus to the fluffy little thing that scurries among the leaves. with the twitch of a finger, the arrow flies toward its target—there is a screech, and then a sobering quiet. for the first time in your life, you pray—quietly, for the creature with the same instinct to survive that drives you to take its life.

“here,” kento says, handing the bow to you, “try it.”

you wrap your fingers around the wood and do as he asks. it’s deceptively heavy—the tension of the bow makes it nearly impossible to draw back with your own strength. focused and determined not to fail in front of him, you nearly jump out of your skin when his hands cover your own.

“there’s no trick to it,” his voice is gruff but gentle and far closer to you than he’s ever been, “just pull back, like this.”

he guides your hand backward with his own and the tail of the arrow follows—at your back, you feel the muscles in his chest ripple with the effort.

“focus,” he breathes, and you fight a shudder at his proximity, “listen.”

and it’s hard to hear anything over the roar of blood in your ears, but you try, blinking in an effort to snap out of whatever trance kento has put you in. it takes a moment, but then you hear it—the crinkle of leaves beneath tiny paws.

“take a deep breath.” kento allows you to move the bow where you want to, and you try to focus your aim. a bushy tail flicks up behind the underbrush—you train the point of the arrow right below it. your heart thuds wildly in your chest, and suddenly you’re worried that the bow might slide out of your sweating palms, impaling you instead.

“let it go.”

you do as he says, and the ringing in your ears drowns out the sounds of short-lived suffering. he lets go of you then—you don’t notice he’s come to stand in front of you until you feel the rough pad of his thumb swipe gently across your cheek. you blink, your own fingers reaching up to find tears you don’t recall ever shedding. your eyes meet his, and they burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. but he’s not angry—you feel no compulsion to apologize for whatever is happening to you. he takes the bow from your hands, and slings it over his back.

“we’ll go back now,” he says quietly. you follow him up the path, and the tears don’t stop until you reach the cabin. you wonder who exactly it is that you’re crying for.

you don’t know what it is about the nights that follow that lead kento to decide to stick around, but there’s a part of you that’s glad he does. above all else, you knew better than to question it. he doesn’t say much—he never does—but you’re more than happy to fill the silence. you suppose you owe him the opportunity to know you, after all he’s done for you—you’ve no idea how to quantify the gratitude you’ve felt over the last few months. you do what you can.

“there’s a story my grandmother used to tell,” you murmur, eyes to the fire that crackles in front of you, “i used to sit at her feet while she brushed my hair. she only ever told it to me—it was like a secret between us.”

the wood pops and spits an ember at your feet. you watch it blaze bright, the tiny thing—one last attempt to catch before it snuffs itself out. “there was a princess that lived high in a tower built to protect her from the bandits of the neighboring empire. she was only ever allowed to walk the grounds of the palace under the safety of a full moon. one night, as she crept out of the tower under the cover of the dark, she’s lured into the dark forest by a witch. she promises to grant the princess any wish, for a price.”

your eyes catch kento’s, and for once, his expression is not indifferent. he is here with you in this moment, and it warms you more than the flame. “of course she wishes to be free,” you continue, waving a hand at its inevitability, “and the witch turns her into a hare. and in the original story, that’s the end of it. there’s a lesson there, right?”

“but in my grandmother’s story, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to the princess. she’s free to hop around to her heart’s content. all she does is eat greenery and lay fat in her den until she dies a natural death after a long and happy life.”

you hear what you think is a scoff from the man next to you. your eyes roam kento’s face, and you think there might even be a hint of a smirk there. it thrills you.

“the tale of an optimist,” he offers quietly, and it’s not bitter.

“she was,” you murmur, “until the end, she was an optimist.”

it’s quiet between you for a moment, save for the crackle of the fire.

“i’m sorry you lost her.”

you smile, and it hurts. the tears well up before you can stop them.

“it’s unfair,” you croak, despite yourself. you’d done well to put up a good front in front of kento—humbling, to see how quickly it could be undone.

you startle when you feel a warm palm close around your clenched fist. “it is unfair,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

the warmth is profound, again despite the fire that heats your cheeks. you find yourself leaning into it until you’ve tucked yourself under his arm. he’s tense, but allows it.

“tell me something about you,” you whisper thickly, needing to think of anything else. he hums, tipping his head back. you sneak a glimpse of the curve of his jaw, glowing between shadows cast by a flickering flame. scar tissue curves and shimmers as it tenses.

“we were a group,” he murmurs, still looking up at the old, wooden boards, “myself and some of the neighbor children. there were no family units, there— we created our own.”

you’re so quiet you think you can nearly hear him piece together the memory in his mind. you know he’s gifting you something precious, so you don’t dare speak.

“we were too young to be running around alone, but there was nowhere to go. we knew enough to dodge the militias that would burn through each village. we thought we did, anyway.”

“the elders were kind. they brought in as many of us as they could on nights when the trucks would come down the road. but we didn’t have parents or homes, and they couldn’t take in all of us.” he pauses, sucking in a long breath. it shifts you when his chest expands. “i was small enough that i was able to fit through a hole in the crawl space under a home. Yu tried, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

“he was my best friend.” kento’s voice is quiet, and more fatigued than you’ve ever heard it. it’s unnerving, seeing his humanity laid out so plainly. “he tried to run, but they caught up just as quickly. they would’ve just taken him to a work camp, but he put up a fight.” he says it with a small smile, like he’s proud. “they shot him and left him there to die.”

if there was a way you could be closer to kento, you’d have found it by now, but you find yourself trying to sneak up under his ribs anyway. trying to find a way to siphon his pain into yourself, if only for a moment.

“you were brave,” you whisper, having nothing else to say except for that—for what feels obvious and true. he scoffs, but you can hear the grief behind it.

“maybe,” he says, arm tightening around your shoulders, “i don’t think i’ve ever felt that way.”

you hum, a low and sympathetic thing, fighting the urge to nuzzle into his chest. it’s strange, how easy it is to default to such animal inclinations when there’s no need to abide by arbitrary customs. there is only the two of you here, and the urge to comfort kento is strong.

“will you let me do something?”

he glances down at you out of the corner of his eyes—narrowed in distrust, despite baring his most tender bits to you only a moment ago. you push past it.

“here,” you say, sitting up and out from under his hold, “sit here.”

“on the ground?” he’s not so much incredulous as he is confused—and you’ll take what you can get. you nod, an appeasing sort of grin teasing the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are still narrowed when he goes—crouched in defense like you wait with bared teeth instead of open arms. still, he moves to sit before you—facing you. you laugh a little, endeared.

“i meant for you to turn—“

“no.”

you’re snapped back to reality then—to the present moment, with this man that kindly took you in but does not trust you. you take in a slow breath, careful not to flinch under the weight of his stare.

“okay,” you murmur, reaching up to pull free from your hair the comb that tethers it in its knot, “that’s okay.”

your hair slips down over your nape as you pull the teeth of it free—hard and familiar in your fingers, you offer it to him like one would a scrap of food to a feral dog. an heirloom made of deer bone—your family’s own commitment to using all that you were given, even if it was in excess. a reminder of a luxury that never felt like one until now.

“is it okay?” you ask, pulling up on your own bravery to keep his stare. after a long moment of careful deliberation, he nods tersely.

you lean forward slightly, careful of his space, and let him see the comb as you reach up. he jumps when the dulled prongs meet his scalp, but you stay the course. you pull it through the blond strands—longer than they were when you first met, the dulled ends slipping through with each pass.

you sit back to look at him after a moment. there’s no resistance, nor is there any enthusiasm—but you trust that he’d stop you if he was uncomfortable, so you keep going.

you lose yourself in the task, pulling (or pushing, from where you sit in front of him) the carved bone through his hair. you allow him the privacy of a reaction—eyes focused only on the strands that flit away from the teeth of the comb.

so focused, it seems, that you have to suppress the jerk of your leg when he leans up against it. the quick glimpse you allow yourself gores you—his eyes now closed, head cushioned by the soft of your thigh. looking more childlike than you’ve ever seen him in the months you’ve spent every minute with him. you see flashes of him as a boy—small and without scarring or a reason for haunches to raise in fear or rage. you think of him laughing—rolling in mud and being scolded by an otherwise kind woman instead of squeezing his way through jagged, wooden boards to save his life. never knowing the sound of a shot ringing out in the street.

you tuck your face into your shoulder—determined to hide the tears and your grief on his behalf. determined to let him feel this, whatever it is, and be a safe place for him to do it. to be the strong arm and the kind hand for him now—the one he can give his precious trust to.

the fire crackles and the mourning is heavy in the air—but kento is alive beneath your fingers, and your own heart beat is a heavy and reassuring thud inside your chest.

he is a rose in bloom, in the nights that follow. tightly coiled and still with all of his thorns, but in bloom nonetheless.

he becomes something of your shadow. where he lingered out of distrust he now hovers with intent—comically so, his large body folding itself in the small confines of the makeshift kitchen while you wring out linens in the sink. it’s clear that something has shifted between you—though what, you’re unsure. your mind tells you he is finally coming around to you. your heart yearns for something more than just his trust, though you are not unaffected by the weight of that trust alone.

he is never more than an arm’s length away. he leaves in the darkened hours of the morning to hunt, and is somehow back before the sun rises to wake you. that was another shift—he hadn’t asked you to join him on a hunt since that night. he hadn’t asked you for anything after that, really. he sleeps nearer, too—you’d been under the impression that he’d been sleeping outside until he wound up at the foot of your bed, sleeping still like a guard dog. you didn’t have the heart to ask him about it—you just left the candle burning and turned away from the door. he was owed privacy in his vulnerability, and you give him that.

and however hard to read the man may be, you feel some discontent at not pulling your weight, so you try your best to anyway. patching up holes in the wooden exterior of your home. sealing the windows with fur and fat to beat the chill of the creeping fall. you know that the garden tending is cyclical with the seasons—the cold calls for heartier vegetables. you pull and preen until your fingers swell, aching.

and there he would be—watching you, as always.

“hard work for a princess,” he mutters through something suspiciously similar to a smirk. you level him with a glare—the heat of which is immediately snuffed out in comparison to the heat of the cloth that he wraps around your wind-bitten hands. the heat of his body before yours is a close second to the warmest you've ever been despite all of the holes you'd still yet to patch.

“i hardly remember ever being one now,” you murmur, leaning into his side as his thumbs swipe over your palms—needle pinpricks left in their wake, even through the fabric.

he scoffs, his hands engulfing yours in his warmth. "are you not still?"

"i suppose, technically." you shrug, letting him crowd you over to the old, torn up futon that you'd been using as living room furniture. he'd been doing a lot of that lately—pushing you to relax. itching to take a weight from you. he arranges you to his liking, wrapping one of the woven blankets around your shoulders. "i was meant to be made into more than that, you know. before the uprising."

kento only raises an eyebrow at you. you shrug, past the point of shrinking from his silence. "my family had paid a sizeable dowry to have me married off. an heir in a neighboring village, supposedly. only my grandmother was against it, in her own, quiet way. she took to calling me her rabbit, after her story. she wanted differently for me."

there's no mistaking the way kento stiffens. there's no reason for it, nor is there a justification for the way you want to placate him. you do it anyway.

"maybe it's for the best," you say, waving your hand as if to dismiss the whole thing entirely, "i'm not exactly the noble type, now."

you watch him deflate. he nods sagely, the smirk pulling at his lips again. "surely you're the most frightening princess i've ever met."

you turn your head to watch him settle in next to you—another new behavior, seemingly unbothered by the proximity that he no doubt was unfamiliar with. "what's that supposed to mean?"

his teasing grin fades into something a little more forlorn. "when i found you, i expected you to be afraid. i wouldn't have harmed you—i only wanted to scare you off."

you huff. "that wasn't very nice."

"you weren't afraid though. it was unnerving."

"oh?" you grin, reaching to poke him in the ribs. "you were afraid of me?"

he reaches for your hand and pulls it to his lap. "i was sad for you. it wasn't a resilience—it felt as though you were broken."

it hurts, you decide, to be known like this. how simple things had been when he'd only left you provisions at your bedroom door and left you be. now you'd gone and allowed your heart to run freely ahead without a tether. you'd no way of preparing for the injury that freedom would cause.

"you pitied me," you mutter, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. the mood shifts between you, and something inside you wants to resent him for it. how warm it had been inside the delusion—the world in which you both exist in this space as equals, brought together by fate and want and nothing else.

"no, not pity." you startle at the feeling of his fingertips as they brush a tendril of hair from your face. "you reminded me of myself. i didn't want you to be alone."

"why take on that burden?"

kento hums, pushing his fingers through the hair at your temple. despite yourself, you lean into the touch. "maybe i didn't want to be alone, either."

you blink, the sentiment working its way into your head. it lands significantly south—deep in your chest with an ache you can't describe. you reach for the wrist in your peripheral, stopping his movement and keeping him close. "is that all?"

"no." his admittance is a whispered, strained thing. you're close enough that to tilt your head back brings his jaw to your lips. the ghost of your breath along his skin makes him shudder, and you feel the fingers in your hair flex into a grip.

"what else, then?"

he ducks his chin to nose at your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, mind empty of all that swam around in it only a moment ago.

"my rabbit," his bottom lip brushes against your own, "what else is there but you?"

the weather changes and the gods grow restless.

you both feel it at the first chill of the year. there’s no graceful turn of the seasons—the air is bitter and cold, and you know something is coming. there’s little time for play, so on the last few warm evenings of fall, you take advantage of it. or you try to—you drag kento into the stream to soak in the dwindling rays of sun, but the knowledge of what is to come weighs heavily on you both. he holds you up in the current—body to body, only breathing. you can't get close enough—to reach inside him and carve out a space for yourself would still not sate the longing you feel.

that wretched something shows it’s face soon enough. the first snow is harsh, collecting in heavy banks against the roof of the house. the wood sags under the weight and the cold creeps in through the wood until the fire is no longer enough to warm the house in it's entirety—only the small space in front of the mantel that you crowd around. you and kento don’t talk much these days—to speak takes energy you don’t have to spare. he is doting as he always is—making sure you are covered in every layer of fabric and fur he can find, but something is wrong. you know the worst is yet to come. you feel it in the way kento holds you too close during the night; it’s never warm enough.

at first there is hope. kento has his food reserves and you'd preserved some of what you’d gathered. but a week of snow turns to two, and two weeks turn to two months. the rations get smaller and the two of you get hungrier. by the third month, you understand that you will not be spared the gods’ wrath. you see the punishment for what it is—a utilitarian consequence to all of the bloodshed by man. you do not have the energy to mull over the unfairness of that. even if you did, the gods do not concern themselves with what is fair—you know that now. the light inside you fades with every new inch of snowfall.

but kento is kind, despite your insistence that he be otherwise. he pulls from his own warmth to add to yours. your dinner portions are always bigger, even if it means he goes without eating entirely. it’s in vain, of course. neither of you will live through this. you scold him for pushing the last of his food on your plate and he doesn’t bother to respond. he only watches while you eat, like he can’t rest until he knows for sure that you have eaten all he has to offer you. you chew through tears and the only comfort is the hand that reaches to wipe them from your cheek. it’s a painful end, wasting away like this. watching kento fade away.

it's when you can smell death's approach that you know with certainty that your humanity has fled for a better place. the thing that remains in you—that keeps your heart beating, that coaxes your lungs to inflate—is purely animal. and it's out of that same primal need that you close the distance between kento's frail body and your own. in the silent chill of the night, the warmth between you may be merely a hallucination now, but you feel it all the same. there is no pain anymore. only a pull into a sleep you want so badly to slip into.

you don't cry—you use the last of the strength in your body to tuck yourself under kento's chin and curl around him in some intimate display of what exists between you. of what has existed this whole time.

"if this is the end," you murmur, knowing that it is, "i'm happy that i'll leave this world with you."

the knuckles that brush against your cheek are sharp and gnarled now. you've never known a touch so tender. it’s odd to speak—to shatter the intimacy of the silence that’s floated around the both of you for much of the last few weeks.

"do you know now?"

if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the man in your arms will live to see the morning. that this is merely pillow talk, and the sun will wake you with warmed skin in a few hours.

but you don't let yourself turn away. it's striking, how even with his last few breaths, kento manages to use them worrying about you. you wonder if he's done it the whole time. you do know; you realize with unmistakable clarity that you'd know his love anywhere, now. you nod, feeling his thready pulse against your forehead.

"i do. you'll have to forgive me for not seeing it sooner."

you feel him scoff—an inappropriate use of dwindling breath that makes you laugh, too. "there will be plenty of time to show you in the next life, my rabbit."

a brief bitterness curls up your spine—the unfairness of all of this creeping back up like a rising tide. how cruel it was to have settled on the loneliness of a life without love, just to be shown the magnitude of a life with it in the final months of your own.

but it recedes in the next moment, because there is no more time to grieve. you can only feel grateful, now—to leave this world saturated in all that kento has given you.

cracked lips brush the skin of your temple—he has no real energy for a proper kiss, but the desire to comfort is strong between you. you spend the next few, precious moments counting the breaths that rattle inside his chest, grateful for every one cycled through.

in the silent hours of a darker morning, there is a light only the two of you can see. shrouded in the glow, he is so beautiful.

with all of your strength, you call him by his name, one last time. "until next time, my love."

epilogue

if the notion of certainty is alive in anything, it is in the way that fable and folklore are sure to be born and born again out of gatherings of beings with mouths to speak it. one such example is the jagged, snow capped hills of Akaito—a new village comprised of all walks of life, the one commonality between them being their displacement during the fall of the Zaiaku dynasty almost one hundred years prior. built overtop the remnants of survivor settlements crushed under the Great Snow, all who inhabit the land know well of the blood that has stained the soil and pay mind to honor the loss of life in their own ways—namely in storytelling. this great coming together eventually gave way to a new mother tongue for the telling of a new bed time story to bleary eyed babes in the middle of the night: the tale of the Akaito lovers—the wolf and the hare.

as the story goes, villagers who have been bestowed some unearthly dose of luck by the gods may catch a glimpse of an unlikely pair—a formidable looking white wolf with scarring across its broad body, and its counterpart: a fluffy and downright regal grey hare. one might catch them romping around in the dusting after a fresh snow, or preening one another under a shaded tree in the heat of the summer. depending on who tells the tale, it might be the case that if a person is truly fortunate and determined to wait out the dark of night, they might even be gifted the sight of the duo curled around one another, sleeping peacefully in a protective and loving embrace under the light of a waning moon.

as with all fables, the story is altered with every new tongue that speaks it, and one day the tale will vanish from the minds of the younger generations completely. but for now, it is ripe in the minds of the young and old, the latter of which are very certain that it is no mere fable at all.

#sike i’m posting it now #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fic #nanami x you #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen writing #livedeliciously🐐collab

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midnightreid · 2 years

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Show Me | Eddie Munson

Summary: When you admit to Eddie that you've never had a good experience in bed, he's determined to change that, and boy does he make you realise what you've been missing out on.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only, dom! Eddie oral (m and f receiving), use of whore and slut, squirting, come swallowing, penetrative sex (p in v), protected sex, pet names, gender-neutral reader with fem anatomy, fingering!

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: this piece didn't go exactly as I planned but that's okay, it's still pretty decent. Find the MASTERLIST and TAGLIST on my pinned navigation page!

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Saturday nights were always reserved for you and Eddie, either at your hideout in the wood passing back a flask or a blunt, or crashed out in your bedroom, lounging on the queen-sized bed that Eddie always claimed was the most comfortable place to be. Tonight was no different, he was leaning up against your headboard with his shoes off and blunt between his fingers, watching the clouds move against the night sky.

It was quiet between you, the silence falling as the high of the weed wore off, but neither of you minded the silence. You had your feet up against his thigh, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that you were wearing thick woolly socks in the height of summer. It didn’t make sense, but neither did the two of you hanging out, the raging Hawkins freak and the head cheerleader who seemed to exude school spirit. But after a while, that pleasant silence fell away as you groaned out loud, throwing your head back in annoyance and puffing out a sigh.

“Fuck…I just remembered I’ve gotta tell Charlie I’m not going on another date with him.” Eddie normally wouldn’t care about anyone’s dating life, but when it came to you it was something different. And sure, he’d rather be with you than see you with Charlie Hugh, but he wasn’t going to say that.

“Oh yeah? What’s wrong with the next boy in line?” He passes the blunt to you, though its effects are no longer taking hold. Eddie’s looking at you, big brown eyes watching you as you turn towards the window, taking a drag of the blunt before shrugging.

“It’s…it’s complicated, you know? I mean, sure, he’s cute, funny, and pretty smart too. But…” You pause, trying to work out how far you can push the conversation with Eddie. Sure, he’s your friend, and your dealer, but he wasn’t exactly the guy you’d spill all your deep dark secrets too, especially not about what you like in bed.

“Let me guess…either he was a complete dick on the date, he can’t hold an interesting conversation to save his life…or he was shit under the covers.” Eddie kind of snorts out the last statement like it’s a complete joke, and he does sincerely mean it like that. But when he looks over at you and you sheepishly avoid his gaze, his stomach drops.

“I know it doesn’t seem like much, I mean, c’mon, you’re Eddie Munson for fucks sake. Anyone you’ve been with acts like it’s a great honour to share a bed or your van with you. And…it’s not like I expected much from him either, I didn’t expect something mindblowing, but…” Eddie was watching you intently, something dark growing in his eyes as you spoke, totally letting yourself go as you rambled on. “I’d just rather be with someone who actually knows how to make me feel good if that makes sense. A lot of guys at school act as if being with them is a massive privilege, as if getting us some nice flowers and taking us to the movies is a big romantic gesture to get into our pants. I just…I want someone to put in the effort.”

Eddie’s gotten a lot closer then, sitting across from you on the bed, legs crossed beneath him and fingers ghosting over yours against the bedspread.

“It’s what you deserve…I mean sure, everyone deserves to feel good during sex, but…” He can’t finish the sentence, doesn’t exactly know what to say, and doesn’t want to say the wrong thing in case he hurts you. But then you catch his gaze and he throws caution to the wind, places the now burnt-out blunt on the nightstand ashtray, and leans in to kiss you.

You’re taken by surprise, freezing for a moment before clinging to him in return, letting him kiss you harder, giving you everything you’ve wanted for months now. It’s not the most romantic kiss, it’s not like your surroundings melt away and everything becomes clear, but you’re not complaining as he takes you by the waist and pulls you in.

Eddie’s breathing heavily when the kiss ends, looking at you with wide eyes as if he can’t believe what he’s just done. And you’re not much different, but you’re still holding onto him, leather jacket clenched between your fingers.

“Shit I…I should have asked first, I’m sorry, I can go if you need me to or-.” He’s blabbering nervously, looking away from you as if he just stepped over a massive invisible line that the two of you had been dancing around for months now. But then you’re kissing him again, hand winding into his hair and pressing yourself against him so you’re chest to chest. Eddie knows you don’t regret it then, knows that if you didn’t want to kiss him again, you’d make that very loud and clear. So instead he melts into the kiss, the tip of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips to gain entrance.

You’re tipping back then, falling against the plush bedspread, and Eddie just has enough control to stop himself from colliding with you. He doesn’t stop the kiss though, letting his lips travel down to your neck and connect with your pulse point. He’s nipping and sucking, not caring about leaving marks, and you can’t help but arch up into his touch, hands going to his back under his shirt, nails digging in slightly.

He didn’t expect you to be turned on so fast, but he wasn’t complaining, especially when you started kissing him again, one hand against his chest and the other pushing his jacket off.

“Oh, baby, look who’s so eager to get me naked…”You know he’s teasing you, but you still whine when he’d rather kiss you than strip his shirt off. So you’re tugging at the material again, hoping he’d get your message, but instead, Eddie just tuts, looking down at you with a disappointed expression. “Hey, look at me, sweet thing. If you want me to make you feel good, you’re gonna have to stop being so demanding.” You huff, looking up at him with a pout, and even though it’s the most adorable expression that could melt his heart, Eddie isn’t budging.

“C’mon, Eddie, stop being such a tease.” Your hand goes for his hair again, but in a flash, he’s snatching it away and holding your hand above your bed. His eyes are so dark, and the smirk that covers his face then tells you exactly what you’re in for.

“Now, now, you little brat. What did I tell you?” He kneels above you, and as you watch him with wide eyes, he starts to unbuckle his pants, yanking the black leather belt from his jeans and wrapping it tightly around his hand before looking back at you, gaze softening for a moment. “You can say no, by the way, we can stop everything right now and can go back to smoking, you don’t have to do this just because you think I want to.” He watches your face as you think over the options, and when your lips split into a wide grin, he knows you’ve made a decision.

“Eddie, if I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t still have you on my bed. Now get on with it before I think of going to Charlie Hugh.” Eddie’s kissing you again then, lips harsh against yours and his hands tying the belt around your wrists and securing them to the headboard.

This was new for you, and even though it first felt strange to have your hands incapable of taking what they want, gliding over smooth skin and digging your nails in as waves of pleasure took hold, you knew Eddie had a plan. He finally stripped off his leather jacket and shirt, revealing a lean torso and pale skin that was flecked with freckles and moles. He didn’t think it was much, and sure no one normally took much interest in his body, more focused on what he could do with his fingers and mouth and cock, but for a moment you tugged on your bounds, just wanting to touch him.

Eddie pulled a pocket knife out then, the blade glinting in the moonlight that streamed in through your window. You weren’t too worried about it until it came close to your skin, but when Eddie grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, you relaxed. He looked at you for permission and cut the fabric from your body once you nodded, revealing your breasts and stomach that suddenly Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off.

“And to think those sweaters have been hiding these, fuck, little one.” Eddie’s eyes are so dark, closer to black than the dark brown you’ve fallen in love with, and when his lips touch the curve of your left breast, he moans into your skin, eyes fluttering closed. He’s always been a man for tits, you’d always heard how he could cover a girl's tits in bites and bruises for a night, and right now you wouldn’t complain. And when he catches your nipple between his teeth, it has you gasping, back arching off the bed and towards him. He’s got you in the palm of his hand then, nipping and sucking against your skin as his other hand goes for your small sleep shorts.

Eddie doesn’t even bother taking them off your body, just shoves them to the side and slides his hand in between your shorts and your legs, eyes widening for a moment before they narrow with a wicked smile taking over his face. You’re so wet, and the man’s hardly touched you. He can feel your juices on his fingers, and he takes a few seconds to compose himself as he feels his dick hardening in his jeans.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to be this much of a whore, pretty thing. Soaking wet for me, and no underwear? If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you planned this whole night.” Eddie rips away your shorts then, and plunges his pointer finger into you, earning a loud moan from you. The room is so hot, summer air flooding in through the window, and as Eddie pumps his finger in and out of you, a sheen of sweat covers your body. He crooks the finger, making a come hither motion and it has you seeing stars, toes curling underneath him and mouth going slack.

He’s engrossed in the picture you’re panting against the bedspread, juices dripping down your thighs and falling onto the baby blue sheets. Your chest is heaving with heavy breaths, and for a couple of seconds, Eddie can’t stop staring at you. That is until you start to whine.

“Please, sir, fuck me, I’ve been good.” His fingers leave you right then, a teasing smirk settling on his face as he takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks the juices off.

“Oh, you think you’ve been a good little thing for me, do you? I’m not so sure about that. I think you need to earn your reward.” The kisses he leaves on your face are teasing, never fully on your mouth or giving you the relief you’re seeking, and when he gets off the bed to strip himself of his jeans and briefs, you start to wriggle against the sheets.

You can’t stop staring at his cock, it was thicker and longer than you expected it to be, and when Eddie catches you staring as he clambers back onto the bed, he can’t help but laugh before leaning down to kiss you, fast and hard as he lets a hand linger on your neck.

“Like what you see, little thing? Do you want to open your pretty mouth for me? C’mon, be a good brat.” He’s urging your mouth open gently, a finger slipping in between your lips as you whine in response, just wanting him as close to you as he can be. And then he’s sliding his cock in between your lips and you’re swallowing it down, slightly gagging as it hits the back of your throat. Eddie takes the hands that are bound, and after you adjust your angle, he squeezes them.

“Remember, we can stop at any time, just squeeze my hand when you need a rest.” You nod slightly to respond, and then you’re swallowing around him again, and bobbing your head up and down on his cock, taking him as deep as you can. His scent is strong, muskier than you expected it to be, and when you tongue him at the tip, his blissed-out groan sends vibrations down your throat. You watch him throw his head back, long messy hair stuck to his sweaty skin, and all you want to do is make him make those noises again, make him come down your throat until he can’t anymore.

“That’s it doll, such a good whore for me. Never thought I’d find such a pretty mouth to take my cock.” It’s sloppy and messy, and Eddie can’t help but watch as saliva pools at the corner of your mouth and mixes with his precum. He pulls out the, tapping the tip of his cock against your lips and watches as you lick at the tip, and all he wants to do is just you only for him. Make it so no one else even thinks of touching his darling.

Eddie squeezes your neck slightly then, tells you to let him know if it gets too much for you, and then he’s plunging back in and fucking your mouth with a vigour, hearing you gurgle and slurp around him as he pumps in and out. It’s euphoric for him, and he gets lost in the feel of your mouth around him, warm and wet and tight around the tip of his cock, and when he gets right to the edge of his peak, he tries to pull out.

“There we go, darling, so good for me. Now I’m gonna come, do you want it in your mouth, like the slut I know you are, or on your tits?” You open your mouth in response, tongue out and waiting for him, and with a few harsh tugs at his cock from his hand, he’s spilling into your mouth, breathing heavy and watching you with dark eyes and a fucked out expression. You swallow his cum down without a second thought, and then Eddie’s lunging in for a kiss, so in awe of you spread out on the bed for him.

This kiss is needy from the both of you, hot and messy and when Eddie pulls away you can’t help but whine, wanting him to stay close.

“Please, sir, I just need you.” That word, that ‘sir’ has him groaning against your mouth, already turned on again even after only coming moments ago. And he knows then that you’re getting desperate, can’t keep you on that edge for much longer before it becomes too much.

Eddie’s fingers are on your cunt then, massaging between your thighs and watching as your eyelids flutter in a blissful state. He gently slides his pointer finger in again, coaxing your walls to open slowly and watching as your juices coat his fingers, and for a moment all he can hear are your moans, loud and sweet against the sticky air the two of you are surrounded by.

“Shhh, hey, you gotta be quiet for me, doll. Can’t have the whole town knowing how much of a whore you’re being.” Unsurprisingly that has you moaning more, but Eddie just grins and leans up to kiss you, shutting you up with his mouth. His fingers are stretching you open, finding that little bunch of nerve that strikes a cord up your spine and then you’re arching up to him, trying to fill the space between the two of you.

He’s holding you tight, not letting you feel like you’re falling as he finger fucks you with three fingers then, and you can’t stop moaning, toes curling and goosebumps rising up on your skin as the pleasure increases, and when he adjusts himself so his mouth is over your mound, you’re gone, too blissed out to even process what’s happening as his tongue flicks over your clit and laps at your juices. Your thighs are shaking, around his head, but Eddie doesn’t mind, just lets a hand up to fondle your breast as you drip onto his tongue, and when he looks up, you’re nearly limp against the bed.

“Sir…Eddie, sir please, oh, OH.” He has you falling off the edge then, tongue gently tapping at your sweet spot and suddenly you’re coming, body arching off the bed into Eddie’s waiting arms, and you can feel the sheets being soaked against your bare thighs.

You’re shaking, and for a moment Eddie gets slightly worried when no sound leaves your mouth before you’re sucking in a loud breath and calling for him, and that’s when you notice that you’re not just coming, but you’re squirting against his fingers that are still inside you. He pulls them out then, wipes them on the sheets and tugs you to him, not wanting to overwhelm you with sensations to your cunt, and you just fall into him, mouth open and eyes closed.

“You know…I expected tonight to be good, but not that good. Are you trying to ruin me, sir?” Your words are soft against Eddie’s chest, and even though you’re exhausted, you can’t help but still rile him up. He’s unbound your hands by this point, belt somewhere on the other side of the room and your hands are on his skin, gliding over his chest and back.

“I swear to god, doll, you keep calling me sir and I won’t have you walking for a week.” You smirked, leaning up to kiss him gently.

“And what if that was my plan all along? C’mon Eddie Munson, I thought you were going to show me how a proper man treats his date.” Before you can even finish speaking, Eddie’s got you against the pillows, his figure looming over you and his hair curtaining either side of your face.

“Oh don’t worry, sweet thing, I’m not done with you yet. Now please tell me you have a condom somewhere in this room.” You gesture to the bedside table, and Eddie finds what he needs in a couple of minutes, a hand never leaving your skin. He makes quick work of the condom, ripping open the wrapper and letting you tug him to full hardness again before he puts it on. He looks down at you then, grabbing your hand in his. “Are you okay? We can stop now if you need.”

“Please, Eddie, I just need you, only you.” He nods, kisses you quick and then lines himself up with your entrance, and pushes in slowly, stopping to let you adjust. Your arms are around his neck, keeping him close to you and slowly, your body relaxes to him, and after a nod to Eddie and a tug of his hair, Eddie starts thrusting into you.

It’s so deep and slow, exactly like you needed and when he hikes your legs around his waist the new angle has you seeing stars, moaning in ecstasy and watching him as he focuses on giving you all the pleasure you deserve. Neither of you takes long to get to the edge, but you both want to last a little bit longer, so when you tug him down with his hair and kiss him sweetly, Eddie doesn’t argue, just wraps you into his arms and changes position again so that you’re in his lap and he’s kneeling on the bed, still deep inside you.

“Eddie, I’m so close baby, please, harder!” You’ve dropped the sir, but Eddie doesn’t mind, just holds you tighter and gives you exactly what you want, fucks up harder into you until your fingernails are digging into the skin of his back and your lower lip is clenched between your teeth. It’s euphoric, and with a loud whine against his skin, you’re coming again, dripping down and onto his thighs.

He can’t hold himself back any longer and thrusts a couple more times before he comes into the condom, slowing down so neither of you gets overstimulated. His lips press against the side of your head, breathing heavily as you cling to him, energy spent and body limp against his.

You hold each other for a while, but soon Eddie gets too uncomfortable with his thighs cramping in the position, and slowly he props you up against some pillows and discards the condom in the trash. You’re watching him, a soft smile on your face as your gaze follows his movements, humming when he comes back from the bathroom with a soft washcloth for between your legs. A couple of minutes later, you’re pulling him back to you, and resting against his chest, head in the crook of your neck. The both of you are still naked, but it’s too hot in the bedroom to get dressed again, and after Eddie pulls a thin sheet over the two of you, you let out a soft sigh.

“I didn’t realise I was missing out on so much.” He looks down at you after you speak, and hesitates when he sees your relaxed smile.

“I uh…hope I didn’t go too far.” Suddenly all his confidence is gone, the adrenaline wore off and with you resting against him he still can’t believe what happened. “I mean, I don’t regret spending the night with you at all, I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by calling you a whore and a slut…I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, woah, Eddie, baby. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I promise.” You look away then, fiddling with one of his rings that are sure to have left indents on your skin. “To be honest, it surprised me, but I kind of…enjoyed it? And you know I would have told you to stop if I didn’t like it.” You watch Eddie closely, but he nods, a look of relief covering his face. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by calling you sir.”

“Hell, doll, that might have been the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, don’t be sorry about that. Now come here, one thing you should never miss out on is post-sex cuddles.” He tugs you to him, kissing your cheek and throwing a leg over yours to keep you close.

“Thank you, Eddie, for tonight.” You’re yawing against his chest by then, sleep pulling you under, but Eddie doesn’t mind, just makes sure that the sheet covers you and that you’re comfortable.

“No need to thank you, baby, the pleasure was all mine.” He closes his eyes then, knowing you’re already asleep, but he can’t help but smile, because even if he never gets another chance with you, he still got to spend a night with you, and that’s more than he ever thought he’d get.

And the next morning, he’s still in the bed with you when you wake up, he hasn’t snuck out the window or left a dorky note like you’ve come to expect, and for a moment, you hope it’s not the end of the two of you together.

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marisferasiop · 5 months

Text

Clearing out wips- I posted my vampire!reader/cryptid!Ezra last night. Enjoy!!

Ao3: link

Rating: mature/explicit- minors DNI

Summary: since being turned as a boy into- whatever liminal state of cryptid he is now- Ezra has walked this earth ageless and alone, never finding his place or a partner for long. He interrupts your meal in the city one evening, and brings you home to strike up a deal; feed from him, alone, and keep one another safe from discovery. The fact that he finds his purpose under the soft graze of your teeth and home between your thighs is a nice side effect.

Warnings: lots of blood, smut, soft yearning sweet boy Ezra, mapuche mythology and monsters, schmoop. Ezra is a subby little sap in this.

Word count: about 2.7k

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“Pleeeease, baby,” he begs, his chin tipping further up, neck curving back, pulse thundering under your slicked lips. His hand pulls at your hip, desperate to have you pressed all along his front. You oblige, your breasts sandwiched between your chest and his as you follow his backward tilt into the sofa backing.

His warmth bleeds into your skin, along with the sharp scent of moss, dirt, wood, life etching its way into the fibers of your soft cotton shirt. He tugs upward at the hem, wanting more skin, and you shift to accommodate.

You’ll always oblige him. You don't know how not to anymore. But he will still always ask.

“Ezra,” you sigh, letting his skin slide out of your wet mouth as he scrabbles for the buttons down your front. A line of that woodsy-scented blood crests over the swell of your full bottom lip, making you suck it between your teeth to swallow it. You can’t spill a drop of him. Even now, watching it pool slowly in the well of his collarbone feels like a sin. You lick over the pinpricks, sealing them, and lap away at the stains.

It would be a crime, wasting what he offers you freely.

He pushes the fabric off your shoulders and, finding you bare beneath, whines anew in his throat as you ease close again. He lets you so close. He wants you that close. Closer, even. Like it’s never enough unless you’re under his skin.

You tuck your nose against the hinge of his jaw, smelling the scent of him clinging to the scraggly beard that grows there. Moss hits the back of your tongue, makes you salivate. Your fangs drop again as you trace the sharp line of his jaw with the tip of your nose back to the bite already slowing on his skin. You lap at it, at the coagulating droplets there, twinned pinpricks.

“The other side, sweet thing. You haven’t had enough. Not yet.”

You hum in the back of your throat, dropping a kiss on his Adam's apple. It bobs under the press of your lips; tender. The pulse of him is still strong, the half cup you’ve taken barely noticed. He’s immortal as well- or as good as. Resilient. You can have much, much more.

“I have. I don’t need it.”

“You haven’t. Take your fill,” he says; pleads, really. You grin, quick and sharp, against his throat.

“Then fill me, Ezra.”

_______________

“Why are you following me?” You had slammed the moss-scented man into the bricks of an alley and pinned him with a hand on his shoulder. He held up his one hand and held your gaze easily.

“I’m not; not like that,” he explained. You wrinkled your nose at his scent again and suppressed a growl. “You’re ah – not human,” he hedged, blinking down the mouth of the alley. The street lamp at the end flickered and gave out. “Neither am I. Not anymore, anyway. Not really. Come somewhere quiet with me? I can explain.”

He had interrupted your meal. Your throat and chest burned and your skin prickled with how cold you were. “Fine.”

He had led you a few blocks away to a truck. Drove you outside of the city to a small farm edged in forest. You had spent the drive alternating between forcing yourself to ignore his pulse and body heat, and trying to pick out the notes of his heady scent.

He smelled like a dense, dark, old forest. Emphasis on the old. He smelled like everything from bright new leaf shoots to dense, herbal decay.

You learned that name was Ezra. He had a kid at home called Cee that isn't his but is now. He led you inside and called out up the staircase that he was home. A call returned, and he ushered you into the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, feeling every bit of how out of place the image was.

“Tell me about yourself. I’ve waited enough.”

“I will tell you anything you wish to know. But first, I interrupted your meal, sweet thing. I wonder if I can amend that?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Explain. And throw in why you smell like you bathe in Pine-Sol.”

Ezra smirks at you, his head tilted to the side, and nods. “Alright.” He slides onto a stool and props his elbow on the table.

“I am. Ah- approximately three- hundred and eighty- four years old. As a boy, I was playing in the woods with my brothers when a – a creature sought to chase us. We ran back for the village, to our family, but the creature caught up to me. It was- ah. A monster. We called them piwuchen. It hypnotized me, and very much intended to eat me, and steal my heart. I was helpless. My brothers ran and got the village’s medicine woman, a machi, and they came back and she killed it before it did more than bite me. The Machi touched me,” he touches the tuft of blonde at his temple and hums. “But the piwuchen had already bit me, and instead of staying under its spell, I was brought back by the Machi’s magic. My arm was amputated in an attempt to stem the spreading venom. And I aged slowly into adulthood, but no further. So I remain the same, and just… move around.”

You whistle low and make a mockingly impressed face at him. “Gonna have to Google that one. You gonna feed me, fae-boy, or am I hitchhiking back to town to drain some other asshole?”

Ezra grins at you and nods. “Fair enough. You’re welcome to try and feed from me. I admit I have never attempted to feed a vampire before.”

“How could you tell what I am?” You ask, watching him slip closer. He shrugs out of a zip-up hoodie, his right arm pinned, and is left in jeans and a tight gray tee shirt. You can smell his blood from here, washed over with the scent of damp earth and intricate root systems. He smells alive like nothing you’ve ever scented before.

“The ah- forest gift, whatever you want to call it, that was imbued upon me from the bite and the Machi’s magic, have left some side effects. My scent, as you have mentioned, is tinged with that of the forest creature’s. I am uncannily handy with direction and luring on a hunt. I can hypnotize, if I need to. And of course, the endless lifespan.”

He comes to stand right in front of you now, the tips of his boots framing your converse as you remain leaning against the counter. “So, I suppose, little bird... That like sees like.”

“Have you tried to die?” You ask, taking his wrist as he offers it up. His arm is toned but not bulky, the skin soft and supple, a beautiful golden- olive. The scent of dew on moss greets you as you bring your lips to his pulse in a kiss. He watches you test his skin, those dark eyes holding mostly curiosity. An odd sort of kinship, this.

One side of his face tics up in a knowing smile. “I have. Nothing takes.”

You hum in agreement, knowing well what the grip of ennui is like, as well as the disappointment when any action taken against it doesn't work.

“And what about the girl?”

“Another child lost in the woods, though fully human. She was fleeing a neglectful father, and got herself quite turned around. I am only ensuring she gets her education with a roof over her head and food in her belly. No nefarious intentions abound. You could no doubt scent it on me if there were.”

He’s not wrong. He smells too pure of intent. Evil sours the blood, and his is… Almost painfully clean.

Carefully, nearly afraid of what you’ll find, you pierce his wrist with one fang. He winces at the breaking skin but doesn't flinch.

His blood tastes– like blood. But gamey, almost. Old. Aged in jungle wood, with all manner of inclusions from the forest floor. You can pick out mushrooms, moss, fresh rain, bark. The drop you suckled out of the pinprick you made dissolves on your tongue. Nothing happens. The empty, aching burn in your chest grows from a single crackling log into a furnace, if anything.

He’s delicious.

Nothing negative seems to happen to you. Aside from the raging burn of your hunger, you feel fine. Your eyes flick up to his, and he nods, tipping his wrist back to your lips.

“Continue, sweet thing. Take your fill.”

_______________

Ezra has spent a long time alone. After his village aged on and he didn't; after the Spanish came and genocide sunk it's claws in. After the strange pox - sickness claimed those survivors. After he learned a new tongue and traveled across the mountains in search of anything- anywhere he could settle into, and only found more of the same. He kept trekking north, slowly and soundly. And never found anything that suited for long.

He has worn many hats. He has been a shaman, a translator, a guide. He has robbed graves and dug them, lived off the forest alone and killed countless Spanish conquistadores. He has been a cowboy, a stagecoach driver, a highwayman, a smuggler. Mostly a con artist. He has aided those he considered friends and killed those that he considered enemies.

And in all those endless lives, he has never felt wanted. Not since his chachay and papay and his brothers passed. He stayed with them, watched them age while he only made it to adulthood and never further. He cared for them, and comforted them when they went on. And every step since has been to find something he can feel in his blood but cannot find with his eyes.

He thinks, now- perhaps too poetically for his own foolish heart - that it has been you.

You like him. You will talk to him for hours, or curl into him on the sofa for a movie. Life has a painful domesticity now, with you and Cee. You don’t live with him, but you come by most days.

Cee likes you, talks to you amicably when you're there and asks after you when you’re not. Ezra likes that you two get along. His girls, and he always grins so wide when he says it.

Ezra wonders, if after a dozen lifetimes of being forgotten, questioned, reviled, exiled, othered– if he can finally have … This.

You, under him, your soft thighs parted around his shifting hips. His weight, on you; your breasts mashed on the rise of his pecs, your mouth, open and panting. He licks into you, thieving over your palate, making your fangs tingle. You pull back and drop them, nipping his lip and then soothing the sting with your wicked tongue. Without both arms to balance, he relies on you for some movement. You undulate against his hips, rising to meet each thrust, skimming your nails down his spine to dig at the meat of his narrow ass.

“Touch yourself, sweet thing. I would gladly bury my face down there for hours, strum that sweet little clit with my fingertips til you break apart if I could.”

“Roll us,” you pant against his mouth, and he is helpless but to comply.

You settle on his hips, his full weight and girth in the vice of your slick cunt. You squeeze him internally and he hisses, grappling with your waist to get you to move.

You have been coming to his little country house for months now. You and Cee still get along well; you often help her or talk to her about her studies, and then in the night, you take your fill of him, in whatever means you see fit.

He is happy to provide. To be of use.

To be wanted.

“You want it, sweet thing?” He pants, arching his neck up into your mouth, rutting his hips up in the tiny space you’ve left him. He’s quite effectively pinned. You have his one hand in your iron grip and the other closing around his throat.

“I want all of you, Ezra. You’re mine, yes?” your throat, lined with his blood, is claggy; your eyes glint like gems in the dark when they meet his.

His eyes dilate, and he goes still and pliant under your hands. Your teeth.

“I am, my sweet. You have me. All of me.”

He explodes moments later, with your hips snapping against his, his cock rooted deep in your core, and your hands still pinning him at wrist and throat. He fills you, at your sucking mouth and your clenching cunt, and you greedily take it all.

Later, when you’ve fed him and he rolls you over and makes you spread your tacky thighs for him, he licks the deep jungle- taste of his spend out of you, luring you steadily into a rolling orgasm that steals your breath.

He’s yours. And you’re his.

_______________

The sun does not kill you, but it is stifling and uncomfortable. You wear layers and hats if you have to go out. Working from home makes your life easier. Ezra often comes if you don't come to his for days. He wants to make sure you are fed, and well.

You catch him snoozing on your couch in a sun spot most of the time. Sometimes you curl against him, take a break from corporate bullshit to breathe in your own personal little forest clearing. Your job is a careful balance of keeping up appearances and giving yourself a task each day so you don’t let the ennui suffocate you again.

He bands his arm around your ribs in his sleep and hums, happy to have you close. It still strikes you at times, how close he allows you to rest. As if you’re not a threat to his very existence. As if you’re not a literal blood-sucking monster.

He has let you know, in brief spurts, how lonely he has been. You suppose that is part of why he has kept Cee. But she will be gone in a year, off to college and her own life. He has already ensured her success by way of a trust with his vast and quiet wealth. And when she is gone, he will only have… you.

You worry, sometimes, that you will be enough. That a few meals and fucks each week will satiate the gaping void in his chest left after eons of walking the earth alone.

But then he holds you tighter, and begs you to drink deeper, and take more from him, and softens into such languid peace when you declare him yours, with his blood on your lips and his cum dripping from you.

He is yours.

You have lived a few lifetimes to his dozens, and you have known him for the blink of an eye by comparison, but you would cheerfully prefer to starve to death, staked out in the sun, than taste anyone else’s blood again.

You are his. He found you, and lured you to his den. And fed you, filled you. He is under your skin, in your very veins, and you only want to crawl inside him and tear him to shreds with your affection. It’s an all-consuming thing, this untapped well of love you have for the first time in decades. You want to drown him in it.

You know he will sink willingly under your waters.

You tuck your nose under his scruffy chin and skirt your arm around the fading sun-spot, and allow sleep to draw you under.

#ezra/reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra (prospect)#prospect (2018)#prospect movie #prospect film #cee (prospect)#reader insert #afab reader #no y/n #only description is having breasts enough to squeeze

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cheesus-doodles · 1 year

Text

Going Home: Chapter 3

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

‎

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2

Thank you all for your patience! Sorry I've been a bit quieter than usual, been working on this chapter as and when I have the time, super excited and relief to finally get this out there! Enjoy! :) p.s. it’s pretty late, editing tomorrow, thanks for understanding!

Catching Kazutora’s fist with a quick flash of his own arm, the already bulging vein on Draken’s forehead that had been throbbing for the better half of a day looked like it was on the verge of finally popping. “Hey, hey! Knock it off already!” It was a line he had repeated countless numbers of times today alone, yet the words didn’t seem to sink into the other with black-and-yellow hair, those unblinking eyes fixated on a head of lilac hair on the other end of the picnic bench, though Kazutora reluctantly retreated back to his assigned corner under the tired glare, away from a weary Mtisuya.

“And don’t you even think about it,” Draken snapped without even turning, and Mikey reluctantly sank back down into his seat, tightly clenched fists disappearing under the sun-bleached wood of a school bench. Despite the gloomy mood that hung heavy over the Toman boys back home and unknowingly separated from you by twelve long years, the weather seemed to disagree with their somber thoughts; the sun was bright yet the air was cool, a breeze rustling the leaves of overhead trees with the occasional joyful ray of light breaking through a generous canopy and onto miserable faces. A beautiful day by all accords for an absolutely horrible, worst-case situation.

Letting out a wretched sigh, the usually stoic Vice President dragged one hand down his face, the other clutching a comparatively small phone. He understood, he really did - after all he was as much trapped in the same unenviable situation as the rest of his fellow founders. Exhausted, anxious, an insatiable boiling rage in his gut, and the need to beat anyone and anything that stood in his path.

You were gone. Vanished without a trace in the middle of the day from outside your school in the single half-hour they weren’t by your side. There was little doubt that like him, the rest were still beating themselves up a day later over wasting precious time, having decided to wait for you outside the gates by their bikes instead of rushing straight in to look for you. After all, it was uncommon for you to run even a minute late from your classes; you never liked to keep your boys waiting for longer than necessary. And with Mitsuya having been the last to have seen you before your disappearance, walking you back and dropping you off at your classroom right after lunch, it was obvious that everyone’s initial suspicion would have been pinned directly on his other Twin Dragon no matter how ridiculous that idea sounded to Draken.

Because where else could you possibly have gone?

There surely was no stone in Shibuya that the panicked Toman founders had left unturned in their day and night comb of the city, yet they failed to find even a whiff of your presence. No school bag, no shoes, things that you usually had on your person had vanished along with you - it was as if you had simply vanished from the face of the earth, yet your house was undisturbed without a single item missing or out of place, nor did any of very vigilant your neighbors see you enter or leave. A kidnapping? A rival gang that had perhaps seen you with them one too many times, and decided to whisk you away as a hostage? Maybe a random street grab-and-run? Unlikely, given none of your schoolmates reported seeing any suspicious vehicles around the time of your disappearance (under the threat of a very painful death that is) and Toman had yet to receive any demands - Draken scratched that off his mental list.

Or worse, did you somehow find out about what your precious friends had been up to behind your back and decided to run away? It was a constant unspoken fear among the Toman founders, that you would decide one day to leave and never come back should you ever find out what they had been doing behind your back. But it was just another struck from the list; no chance that they wouldn't have known the moment you found out, given you always wore your heart on your sleeve.

So what did that leave? The blond-haired boy, a steadfast and strong presence that the Tokyo Manji Gang rallied around, barely knew where to go from here. Yet no matter how much his mind and heart yearned to get out and help with the search, his body was still weak and recovering from his near-death incident just a week prior: handling Kazutora and Mikey already took whatever strength he had left. Even if it was Draken who did manage to find you, he would imagine you wouldn’t be too happy to see him already out and about - all he had left was his brain.

The warm sunlight that bathed their skin felt more like a scornful, satirical imitation of your hug, the crowds thronging Tokyo City uncaring of their plight.

How did everything go wrong so quickly? It was supposed to be all uphill from here - Takemitchy had saved his life and been rewarded with Mikey’s first ever Toman uniform, and you, despite trying to save him yourself had thankfully walked away with a small but heartbreaking wound and scar on your hand; a clear reminder of their failure to protect you from their dark world.

Dropping back into his seat at the table, Draken set his uninspiringly quiet phone down with a thud. “Any new ideas?”

‎

And apparently that was the wrong question to ask, and the taut tension finally exploded, the wooden bench groaning and shuddering under Kazutora’s open palms as the duo-colored haired delinquent slammed both hands down, jumping to his feet. The words that spilled off his lips, combined with that unblinking stare, were toxic enough to kill. “I know it’s fucking you, isn’t it Mitsuya. You’re hiding her!”

A straight, unflinching accusation, one that said boy, no matter how level-headed, wasn’t going to take lying down. “Huh?! Are you dumb?” A vein on Mitsuya’s forehead began to bulge as he tried and failed to swallow the boiling anger. “I walked her all the way back to class! Why would I be here if I knew where she was?!”

“You said she needed more space, let her attend class in peace,” Kazutora spat back, though the tinge of desperation that underlied his tone and those dreadfully dark eyebags was abundantly clear. “We wouldn’t be in this position if we didn’t.”

If they didn’t let you run off and do whatever you wanted, unspoken words that all of them, both present around the bench and away searching, knew and carried in their heavy hearts. No one could shake the guilt.

And then a different voice speaking up had Draken’s gut sinking further. “How do we know its not you, Kazutora?” Questioned Mikey, unblinking eyes staring down said boy, who spun round to face the Toman President.

“Me?!”

The gang was falling apart without you, and the Toman Vice President could only wonder how long more they could last. He hoped you were at least safe and dry wherever you were.

‎

Separated from the woes of your delinquent friends by simple time, you were far from free from your own problems.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not any more. I’m fine, Mikey, really. See?” you sighed out, running your bandaged hand through his crown of white hair, the other resting on the handle of an oil strainer, the gentle sound of food sizzling the only sound to be heard amidst this otherwise lifeless stainless steel environment that formed the ginormous kitchen you found yourself in. Your friend seemed less than inclined to believe you though, arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he leaned into your chest, careful to avoid brushing against your neck.

“But it did just now,” he mumbled back into your clothes, and you couldn't deny that - you could still feel those hands clamping around your throat, quavering dilated eyes squeezing down with the intent to kill.

It had been a good hour since the doctor had left after being immediately summoned from the infirmary to Mikey’s room to carefully and professionally assess your injuries under the watchful eyes of the white-haired man. An ointment for the ugly blue and purple bruising that littered your neck and a tight bandage wrap for your wound that was torn in the scuffle, and you were given the green light to resume regular activities, whatever that meant in light of what had just happened. Knowing Mikey, you would be lucky to ever be left alone anytime in the next week, let alone ever again. You hadn’t forgotten the look of utter fear that had washed over your friend’s face, the way he raced through winding hallways with you bundled in his arms, as if you were already on death’s door and tempted to cross the threshold. Because how could you? There wasn’t a single instance you remember ever seeing such a raw emotion pass Mikey’s face in all your time spent with your Toman friends, and you weren’t keen on seeing it again.

Yet all you had taken away from the whole incident were more and more questions; questions whose answers you knew would maybe start to solve the mystery of where you were and what had happened, yet questions you had no doubt would, at best, break Mikey’s heart if you asked. What to do indeed? Mentally shaking yourself out from the neverending spiral of thoughts, you turned your thoughts back to the present. Though, your lips twitching upwards, the irony of the other’s insistence at your apparently debilitating injury at the moment wasn’t lost on you - he hadn’t so much as mentioned the possibility of your bandages getting dirty when you were battering the chicken parts just a few minutes ago. “So I suppose I should stop frying and get some rest then?”

A noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a whimper, and those abyss eyes instantly whipped up to meet yours. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out at the absolutely pathetic pout he had on his face, his grip on your shirt tightening further. “I didn’t say that!” he protested. “Take that back!”

“Yes, yes,” You rolled your eyes, that familiar indulgent smile spreading across your face. Despite everything, he was still your Mikey. “I was kidding, Mikey.”

But your wince at the flare of pain as you turned to press a kiss to the top of Mikey’s forehead, as much as you tried to hide it, wasn’t missed, the man gently guiding your head to face forward once more, childish whine fading into a quiet concerned mutter. “Don’t turn if it hurts.”

The kitchen fell back into a comfortable silence, you humming that old croony love song under your breath as you reverted your attention to your cooking, nudging Mikey back slightly when his hand got a little too close for comfort as you shook the oil off the crisp chicken pieces, settling them down top of a tray you had found in one of countless drawers. Steel surfaces marred with scratches and dulled from wear and tear told their own stories of the days spent toiling away here by unknown souls. You weren’t sure when those clingy arms had released you long enough for the white-haired man to wander back with plates, but the clinging of porcelain together as you rescued the last lonely karaage from the boiling sea of oil told you everything you needed to - you were certain your friend would demand payment for his “help” in the form of attention and cuddles later on.

Though there was not much time to think about that now either, not when you barely had enough to pick up your precious tray before Mikey started to insistently tug at your sleeve, leading you a surprisingly short distance through two doorways which opened up into a relatively homely-looking dining room. Decked out in simple but nonetheless exquisite walnut-wood furniture and a rug that reminded you of your own room back home, it was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the upper floors the two of you had descended from, the plain walls home to a single mirror and the round dining table a vase of flowers. “Sit here,” he insisted, and you obliged, dropping into the cushioned seat, to which Mikey immediately attempted to climb into your lap.

“Mikey!” Letting out an oof as your entire vision was suddenly filled with nothing but the black shirt your friend seemed to always wear, you swore you heard the chair underneath you groan with the weight of two. “Too heavy!”

A rustle and several mild thuds later, the pressure on your thighs was somewhat alleviated, with the white-haired man finally settling down, opting to sit only on your lap while resting his legs across both yours and the neighboring chairs’ armrests. To any other pair of discerning eyes, it would look almost as if you were cradling him, like a mother would their child, and you certainly were to an extent - but to you, it was very much just business as usual.

Just Mikey being the needy friend you remember from yesterday morning albeit looking a bit different. Even down to him now prying your fingers open to force a spoon into your grip, you knew it was your dear friend behind this facade of white hair and gaunt hands.

‎

But, your mind whispered against your heart’s protest, was that all that was different? Was the man in your lap truly the Mikey you thought you knew?

Even as you absentmindedly spooned a chunk of fried chicken into the awaiting mouth of the former Toman President, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander back towards that incident just a few hours prior, and even with your valiant attempts to ward them off, barricade them away, your brain remained firmly stuck. You simply had to know what happened - your own memory drawing a blank from the time between Sanzu suddenly attacking you and finding yourself clutched in Mikey’s arms, corridors whirling past your shaky, blurred vision. It was just for your peace of mind, you tried to reassure yourself as you plucked up your courage; you swore you wouldn’t change anything about how you thought about your friend no matter what you learnt.

"Mikey, about Sanzu- '' You hesitated as that carefree smile was instantly wiped from his face as he turned to face you fully, any sense of playfulness the other had drained away in a heartbeat.

Despite his eyes being empty like they always were, they were a blank slate to anyone but you, the growing anger behind the facade of uncaringness was as clear as a lit neon sign in the midst of a winter night, a 180 from the carefree friend just a second earlier before you opened your mouth. The room temperature plummeted with those narrowing eyes, the quiet whirl of cold air from above only adding to the sudden chill of the room. “I told you to go straight to my room and not to talk to anybody. You disobeyed me.”

There was something about the way those words spilled out that frightened you - you had never been scared of any of your friends before, never Mikey - but there was no other way to explain how you felt in that moment, though you didn’t quite understand why. Maybe it was that icy look of lingering contempt for that poor pink-haired man, or maybe it was how menacing his aura had become, an almost overwhelming, radiating sensation of power.

But this time, against your mind screaming to roll over and give in, you pressed on. Mikey wasn’t going to hurt you. "What happened Mikey? I don’t remember much."

“He deserves it.” The hiss of words that came out were unlike anything you have heard spill from his lips, the way the usually hidden shadows crept up onto his face to accentuate that hard look only making the other seem more a stranger than anyone you knew. “How dare he lay his filthy hands on you.”

You’ve always known how overprotective your friends were, but this seemed extreme - had they always been this way? Or was this new, and you were actually in the future? Were your friends hiding something from you? Forcing yourself to squash down the questions that kept bubbling up, you instead focused your attention on the most recent events; if you asked all that ate away at your heart, you were sure you and Mikey would be all night, and you weren’t going to last that long in this cold that started to bite away at your bones. And the one question that you simply had to ask despite your sinking gut telling you that you probably wouldn’t like the answer: that echoing sound of gunfire that you could hear at the edge of consciousness after which Sanzu was wrenched off you, was that real or just your imagination? “Isn’t he your friend? D-did you shoot him?”

Unable to stop the shiver that seemed to shake your entire body before you got your answer, the empty spoon you had been holding fell back onto the porcelain with a clink as you instinctively rubbed both hands against your arms, and the white-haired man paused. The spell over the room broke, the tension lifting as quickly as it had weighed down on your shoulders. “I did what I needed to.” His answer came almost gently though with a sense of finality, one bony hand reaching out to ever so delicately grasp your hand even as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his other hand comfortingly rubbing circles into your back. “I’ll do anything to protect you.”

You believed him. Mikey did scare you for that few minutes, you wouldn’t lie to yourself, and you wouldn’t be getting any more answers, but you still believed him. That didn’t mean you agree with what he did of course, but you had promised yourself you wouldn’t treat such a dear friend any differently no matter what you learnt. Letting out a sigh, the warmth of the room slowly returned much like the rising of the sun after a frigid winter night, and you shuffled yourself slightly in an attempt to get comfortable while still balancing Mikey’s weight on your lap. Time for a change of topic, and you wondered out loud the first thought that came to mind. “Where’s Ken-chin and the others?” You hummed, reaching round the sulking man to spoon another lump of chicken and rice.

“Don’t wanna talk about that,” came his muttered answer, and your heart sank - there was just too much you didn’t know, and ignorance was proving not to be very blissful. Yet you didn’t push that either, not after such an intense day for both you and Mikey, though fortunately that seemed to bring other more acceptable ideas to his mind, and the man pulled away to look you up and down. “You need clothes.”

You blinked. “Clothes?” You still had clean clothes from your home.

“New clothes,” he declared, pulling the spoon to his face and chomping down, before continuing to speak with a mouth full of food. “We’ll have a party next week, I’ll introduce you to everyone, so let’s go shopping later.”

That same indulgent smile emerged once more, you letting out a laugh as you dabbed away from Mikey’s round cheeks the morsels of rice that made it out. “Alright Mikey. Chew and swallow first, okay?”

‎

Once the last morsels of food had disappeared into Mikey’s mouth and you had left the empty plate atop the dining table with much reluctance at his insistence, you were once more led down those same neverending corridors, delicate unbandaged hand held ever so gently in the other’s. On a good note you mused, glancing around your luxurious surroundings, you were at least beginning to recognise the few corridors you were walked down: the corridor that Mikey’s room was along, the large white-and-blue porcelain vase that denoted where you should turn for the bathroom, and the next corridor over the one that the two of you had walked towards the kitchens.

The hallways that stretched and winded away beyond your view, hiding in its unknown depths the allure of adventure and unmade friends, was tempting to say the least, but no matter your urge to wander and explore, you knew Mikey would never let you; and alas you were right, the man leading you straight back to the worn wooden door. With a promise of a short thirty minute wait for him to make a few calls and have everything set out before your little outing, there would usually be no reason for you to disagree. But this time there was somewhere you wanted to be, somewhere you needed to be to settle the guilt eating away at your heart with those precious few minutes of potential freedom.

“I feel bad, Mikey. I wanna apologize,” you protested right at the threshold of the room, with Mikey hovering right in front of you and taking quick glances up and down the corridor, anxious to get you inside. “Sanzu got hurt because of me.”

The other stayed resolute in his decision though, as you knew he would even in light of the very strong pout on your face. He never was really that weak to your puppy eyes like you were to theirs, you supposed, lightly touching the bag of extra karaage in your pocket you had snuck aside to give to Sanzu. “No. You stay here.”

“But Mikey-”

“He’s dangerous,” came the blunt answer, his grip around you tightening ever so slightly as he tugged insistingly at your sleeve, trying to guide you into the permanently darkened room. “And resting. No.”

You sighed, allowing yourself to be ushered into his room; there was no way you were going to win this fight. “Alright, alright.” Guess you'll just have to eat the karaage yourself.

“Thirty minutes, max.” Mikey swore, his hand on the doorknob with the door halfway closed. “I’ll be done in thirty. Just need to sort some things out.”

A click of the lock, and you found yourself once more alone, swallowed into the shadows. The minutes went by slowly, one second crawling by after another. After repeatedly sitting and standing up from the bed in an attempt to think of something to do, you were finally bored enough to explore the little area, though that didn't help alleviate your boredom much. Mikey’s room was sparse. There was no other way to put it nicely, you grimaced, pushing the near-empty drawer back into its slot, before closing the wardrobe door behind you with a soft thud where the wood met. Even with the little light that seeped in under the door, it was obvious that your friend had few belongings, and even fewer if you didn't count clothes.

It broke your heart. Plain walls with no windows, few things to call his own, and this miserable, constant darkness. Sure this wasn't the Mikey you knew, but it was still Mikey. What had he been going through?

Flopping back onto the bed, you let out a breath. You knew your 'return' had brought him a semblance of relief, but you couldn't stay here forever. You didn’t belong here - and you were sure your Toman friends were waiting for you back home. Was there anything more you could do to ease the pain he carried? Closing your eyes, the darkness behind your eyelids wasn't too different from the room's.

And without a sound or another word, you vanished.

‎ ‎

Across the city and tucked away in a quieter neighborhood, the same sun that was all but hidden from you behind the labyrinth of walls that made up Bonten’s headquarters shone prominently through open windows, though the fresh minds that the new day brought after a good night’s sleep didn’t quite seem to help ease the conundrum that the two men pouring over a whiteboard were stuck in.

“But what makes you think the other time leaper is her?” The former delinquent mumbled, letting out a sigh as he straightened for a quick stretch, his joints rusty from the week-long lack of movement after his latest lap in the past. “It could be anyone - maybe even Kisaki.”

“Yes, I get that, but she’s the most reasonable explanation here,” Naoto retorted, turning away from the picture of your smiling face staring back at him from the whiteboard. “The bounty appeared the day you said she disappeared.”

“Are you sure? It could be that you just missed the bounty previously. You mentioned that your memories weren’t changed like the last time I timeleaped?”

It seemed almost impossible to comprehend, the detective understood: the mere idea that there were not one, but two time leapers who could both individually change the future, it was hard to swallow to say the least. But it was the reality that they had to contend with and work around, and the faster Takemichi could bring his mind around to that, the faster they could start solving this mystery and change his sister’s future. Fortunately for the already irate Naoto, the annoyance that was starting to show clearly enough on his face that the other was quick to back down from his claims, Takemichi throwing up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, so let’s go forward with the assumption that the other time leaper is her. Nothing’s changed since Draken’s - Ken Ryuguji’s - death was prevented, but do you think he is alive now?”

A lightbulb went off behind Naoto’s eyes, and he rocketed from his seat, the former delinquent almost toppling off his seat at the sudden movement. “Wait.”

“Wait?”

“Could her time leaping be overriding yours? There’s been no major change in my memories since you met her at that fight, not even after you stopped Ryuguji’s death. Only the bounty that appeared after her disappearance from the past.”

Naoto’s living room fell silent as both men contemplated the latest theory. It was plausible, more than plausible even, given how much the fate of Toman in the past was tied into you, and now, how the future failed to shift even with another life saved. More and more, it seemed you were somehow tied into this entire mess, but how was the real question?

Takemichi let out a groan, ruffling his hair. This was hard, too hard even. “I don’t suppose we know if she’s here right?”

“I ran her name through the system, still only school records from 12 years ago,” the detective grimaced. “But if her time leaping works anything like yours, then she should be present somewhere.”

“And nothing on Mikey or Bonten yet?”

“Still no sighting of the boss, so we can’t be sure.”

“How bout Draken? He could still be alive.”

Phone clicking open, Naoto allowed himself to drop back into his seat. At this point, they had nothing else to go on, so any starting point is better than none. “Let me see what we have on Draken first - if you can write down some of the other Tokyo Manji founders’ full names, I’ll try to pull their records too.”

‎

12 years separate from Takemichi’s woes, the only thing on Sanzu’s mind was just how hot and humid the evening was, much like the previous evening, the heavy wind that plowed down the empty street only bringing more heat rather than the relief Sanzu craved. Running one hand through the sticky mop of drenched pink hair in an attempt to give relief to his sweat-covered forehead, this delinquent had zero doubts that the past two hours alone was already a lot more miserable than the entire yesterday combined, not even taking into consideration what had gone down before the sun sank beneath the horizon.

This part of town was predictably quiet at this time of the day - cars rested beside empty sidewalks, the chatter of voices and light thuds and clinks of people drifting down to where Sanzu walked the streets below, the sound of the occasional furious scribble of students rushing work lost in the background hum of the neighborhood, audible only to whatever gods they were muttering to. Stalking down the road that ran past your school gates, a single glance of the flawless nameplate, sparkling in the light of the sinking sun, was enough to push his bad mood over the edge.

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!” A black clad leg swung out, and its hapless victim, an innocent, empty garbage can that went rattling down the road, the clanking of metal against concrete cutting through the night. It was you, the boy fumed. This whole mess was entirely your fault. You had vanished into thin air, a fact that Sanzu would ordinarily celebrate given all the problems you brought for him if it didn’t only proceed to make his life harder. You were the one that forced him to waste his entire day on the hunt for you, all in a vain effort to ease Mikey’s suffering. And when Sanzu predictably turned up with nothing, neither were you there to see the pain you were putting Mikey through, let alone soothe his anger away. And after you stole his best friend away from him - well, former best friend. Small fact, didn’t matter. You were still undoubtedly the root cause of all this trouble - he’s no doubt heard about the growing divide between Kazutora and the rest of the founders - so why couldn’t his king, his whole world and purpose, just forget about you and move on?

A loud growl broke the Fifth Division Vice Captain’s spiralling thoughts, and one hand moved to clutch at his empty stomach. With the sun low on the horizon and the night looming in the distance, waiting impatiently for its turn to rule the sky, of course dinner was going to be completely burnt though, and Sanzu didn’t think he had enough money on him for some supper before bed. Definitely your fucking fault as well. Grumbling about stupid and unappreciative friends as he turned a corner, your quiet school block quickly disappearing behind the wall of yet another generic apartment complex, the delinquent paused for a quick break on his seemingly endless quest, letting out as a sigh as he leaned against a brick wall, pulling his mask down for a breather where no one would see him hidden away from the tired aura of nearby streetlamps.

Why did he bother? And truly, why did he? Looking up at the clouded sky, Sanzu could only wonder. It wasn’t the first time this particular train of thoughts had popped up - several times, in fact, over the course of the past two days. Right from the start when he got the call that you had gone missing from outside your school, and that all of Toman had been mobilized to search for you, he had always wondered why he should.

Weighing the pros and cons, sure it would bring Mikey peace and joy if you were returned safe and unharmed to his awaiting arms, and Sanzu was sure he would be at the receiving end of that gratitude and thanks from all of the Toman founders alike. Maybe he would even get the chance to know you better without the threat of being beaten to death, obtain the rare opportunity to witness and learn firsthand how you got his king wrapped around your glass fingers. But at the end of the day, it would only benefit both him and Mikey in the long run should you have vanished for good, Sanzu knew - the Toman boss would be free to walk his dark destined path with you no longer there to distract or weigh him down, and there would only be the loyal Sanzu by his side to aide him.

What to do indeed. Well he did suppose if anything untold happens, he could always just kill you. All for the sake of Mikey, of course, but that was if anything untold happened. Maybe you’ll just never show up.

‎

Resolved to give up the search and hit the sack if nothing turned up within the next five minutes, it was only then that the slightest flash of gold and purple caught the corner of Sanzu’s eye, and the pink-haired boy had to take a second glance.

No fucking way. This had to be the tenth time he himself had scoured these few roads, let alone taking into account the countless times the Toman founders had searched the vicinity of your school from roof to ground. How was it possible this had been missed? Seemingly carelessly tossed at the foot of one of many brick walls that made up Tokyo City was your iconic purple charm, gifted to you by Mikey and the rest of the Toman founders. There was no one in the entirety of the gang who would fail to recognize the onomori that usually hangs by your school skirt’s belt hoop or from the zipper of your bag, a clear indication of the eyes that watched over you and whose shadows you were living under. So what was it doing here, lying forgotten in the dirt? And how has no one found it till him?

The few rays of evening light that still danced across the apartments above mocked his turbulent thoughts: would he land himself in even more trouble if he picked it up or not? Alas all Sanzu had was questions, with answers nowhere to be found. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Finally settling on picking it up first and praying for forgiveness later - it would be more criminal to let something that met so much to his king lie any longer in the dirt, Sanzu decided - he reached for the charm.

As his fingertips brushed the sacred purple cloth, a sudden gall picked up, rushing down the street with enough force to slam windows and rattle doors, even almost managing to bowl over the bent-over delinquent had he not quickly righted himself.

And as quickly as the wind had started, it was gone like the last evening light upon sundown, the world falling back into a stillness that felt out-of-place. Unusually still, right till a single breath had him shooting back up at full alert, onomori now clutched in hand - he swore he had been completely alone.

You blinked back at him, frozen as if a doe caught in headlights, crunchy, transparent bag of karaage in hand rustling away with the wind.

His jaw dropped as your gazes met, his made-up mind sent reeling again.

What the actual fuck? Was - was that really you? Or just your ghost sent to haunt him from the great beyond?

One heartbeat, two heartbeats; no one spoke, and the two of you simply stared down each other, Sanzu puzzling out if this was real life or just a dream and you doing…something. You were real alright, the boy determined, a very real physical body that cast a shadow, who had two feet firmly on the ground. But where did you come from? How did you suddenly appear out of nowhere? Were you hiding from Mikey or were you on the run? Yet for reasons beyond him, you seemed more perplexed at seemingly seeing him in one piece than he was at meeting you after you appeared from nowhere. “Sanzu-san? Is that - you’re okay?”

Was- was he okay? What?

“What do you mean?” The words seemed to blurt out before the usually unflappable Toman Fifth Division Vice Captain could bring his brain around. What happened? Why would he not be okay? As if his answering set off an epiphany, a lightbulb went off behind your eyes, those doe eyes sparkling to life as you alternated looking back down at your quickly cooling karaage and Sanzu - you must have the answers that he wanted, at least some of them.

You chose to bite your tongue and keep your secrets. “Here, take this.” Instead, with a single step forward, you closed the gap between the two of you, quickly thrusting the plastic into his free hand, a small, almost sad smile breaking out onto your face. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

The small motion, though careful, was enough to knock the onomori from his other hand, the delinquent’s eyes following its path through the air as it descended once more towards the ground, but you didn’t seem to notice as you backed off and away. And when he looked back up, you had vanished once more without another word, evaporating into the chilly wind that took your place as mysteriously as you had appeared. The sun had finally given up its place as ruler of the sky, the darkness of the night enveloping the sky as it sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight swallowed by the stars.

If he wasn’t still clutching on to the bag of karaage, he would have written the entire incident off as a hallucination and been on his way. But now, Sanzu mused as he once more bent down to carefully pick up the charm with a handkerchief, tucking it away into his pocket, now he would have to consider what to do next. No doubt that this charm was somehow linked to your disappearance and subsequent reappearance, and the boy noted to be extra careful with accidentally coming into contact with it again - the last thing he wanted was to accidentally trigger you appearing again. So should he turn over your charm to Mikey and tell his king everything? Or should he just keep this to himself, keep his head down and go along pretending?

Absentmindedly, the delinquent picked out a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. Bad move, because he had no words to describe how fucking delicious it was, the karaage though lukewarm still exploding into a homely, lovely flavour that warmed his belly - was this what the Toman founders had to enjoy every day? No wonder Mikey’s pissed that you’re gone.

Maybe it would be better to have you back.

‎

Rather unluckily for Sanzu’s sudden change of heart, where you had vanished to wasn't anywhere that the delinquent could follow across 12 years of time. Arriving just five minutes before the white door was pulled back open, you were rather surprised to find that the sun had already set when you finally had the chance to step out from behind those intimidating glass doors of the equally intimidating building you called home for the past few days. Having had no window to look out from or clock to tell the time ever since you had met this version of Mikey, you had long lost track of the passage of time - how many days had it been since you’ve had the opportunity to take a breath of fresh air?

Maybe you should have asked the Fifth Division Vice Captain when you had the chance, but then again, you didn’t want to get him into any more trouble for speaking with you.

An arm snaked around yours to clasp your freezing hand in his, shaking you from your thoughts. “You okay?” Mikey mumbled, pulling you closer to him, forehead pinched as he scanned your face.

“I’m fine Mikey,” You hummed, glancing around as discreetly as you can under the other’s watchful eye. “Just thinking.”

The white-haired man said nothing, instead leaning his head against you. Needless to say, seeing how Mikey had reacted around you over the course of the past few fours, you had decided to keep your little excursion a secret from your friend. There was no longer any doubt in your mind that you had, against all logic and reason, time traveled - this must be somewhere in the future, though you weren’t sure how many years had passed.

But in that case, why did Mikey mention finding you? Was there no future you?

All you had were more and more questions.

The foyer of the skyscraper Mikey called home was completely empty save for the two of you, the high wall that ran around the entire compound blocking any sight of the outside world - an unusual choice given what you knew of Mikey, but things had probably changed. A car rumbled across the gravel from an entrance unseen, pulling to a stop in front of the otherwise empty foyer. Even as you were bundled into the car, the one thing that struck you was just how quiet the world around you always seemed. You couldn’t see the driver either, with the partition between the front and back of the spacious car up. Except for the two “friends” of Mikey you had met plus Sanzu (you weren’t sure if he and Mikey were still friends), the building seemed lifeless. Unoccupied. It wasn’t possible of course: there was no way such an enormous place could be kept as spotless or such a feast could be whipped up without an equally enormous staff. Maybe they were just ninjas, really good at hiding.

Lit signs and digital screens flashed by, and your mind was drawn away, and you clambered up to look out of the tinted windows in fascination, though Mikey’s arm tight around your waist remained. The city had changed in the unknown time that had passed, and you couldn’t say you recognised the Tokyo that was whizzing past you - there was an almost dreamlike feel and ambience to it, the area had changed too much - yet it was still undoubtedly the same Tokyo you had grown up in.

Barely noticing that the car slowly rolling to a crawl, the tug at your sleeve came as a surprise to you as it pulled up next to a sidewalk in a neighborhood you noted as a more prestigious part of the city - you don’t think you had ever dared venture here by yourself. “We’re here.”

“Here?”

But you were no longer as alone as you thought you were, the car door swinging open to reveal a mass of bodies forming a semicircle around the entrance. The silver of light that slipped through broad shoulders was just barely enough for you to get a peep of the surroundings before the group started moving as clockwork. Huddled as close to Mikey as physically possible, you tried your best to keep your gaze down and focused on your friend, away from the intimidating gazes of the heavily armed bodyguards that surrounded the two of you. A stark reminder that no matter how Mikey behaved and acted around you, the Mikey that strolled down the street, shoulders relaxed with one arm around you, the same one that had shot Sanzu without a second thought, was but a complete stranger to you.

The single row of double-storied shops with flawless floor-to-ceiling windows all bore names you could barely read, let alone pronounce, the interiors lit and gleaming against the setting sun in the distance. Handbags, sunglasses, clothes of every color and variety displayed proudly to the world, a siren’s call to those who sought the status they brought and a mockery to those who barely got by.

“Mikey.” A new voice cut across the rumble of the city, and your ears perked up. This wasn’t someone you met before. Gaze swinging up as the herd of bodyguards parted to reveal a man in a red and gold outfit, his white side-swept hair tossing lightly in the wind as his single gold-linked glimmered in the dim overhead light of the streetlamp.

"Koko." Mikey acknowledged, and you noted that his grip on you slightly tightened. The other had an air of confidence he carried that you supposed your protective friend didn’t quite like. But even if the newly named Koko noticed, he didn't mention it, cat-like gaze kept firmly trained on Mikey with nay a single glance in your direction.

“Store’s cleared and secured, had a chat with them earlier.”

No more words were exchanged, or rather no more needed to, with Koko sauntering off while Mikey moved forward with you, and you caught a quick side glimpse of the man. You don’t remember him from Toman either, much like the case with Ran. The two of you stopped in front of one of many storefronts, a few paces away from where Koko had just been, the polished wooden front door already neatly propped open. “Come on, I wanna start with the party dresses,” Mikey mumbled into your ear, close enough that his hot breath tickled your skin, though he quickly pulled back to stare at the ring of suited men that still surrounded you.

That seemed to be a cue, and no one followed you as you were tugged into the shop. Yet right on the threshold of the shop, you thought you heard what sounded like the click of a shutter from behind and you hesitated- it was hard to mistake the sound for anything else even from a distance, given the void of people along the rest of the stretch of road - but when you turned to look, there was no one and nothing to be seen.

“What’s wrong?”

You turned back. “Nothing.”

‎

A crystal chandelier. There was an entire chandelier in the shop, hanging from ludicrously high ceilings framed by two floors of intricate railings as you gawked at the sparkling teardrops that refracted rainbow rays of light. Well to be fair, you didn’t know what to expect - it was the first time you had ever stepped into a shop so fancy, but this was a next level of fancy. Marble tiles expertly shone lined the floor of the shop, with tasteful picks of carpet that broke the montony; vases of fresh flowers resting atop simple side tables that helped accentuate their beauty, with smaller chandeliers that hung through the rest of the shops.

But Mikey was hardly impressed with the selection, the white-haired man too busy tearing through the racks of clothes with a silent, polite attendant by his side, occasionally pulling out various articles that seemed to be made of ghostly goasmer, the fabric puffing up at the lightest breathe, looking over the piece with a critical eye and than back at you. When he amassed a satisfactory number, the attendant was quick to hurry the dresses into a private changing room that you swore was as big as your own room back home, before vanishing from sight, leaving just the two of you.

“There’s no price tag-” you swallowed anxiously, taking another glance round the store, your delicate hand gripping the parting curtain. How much did any of this cost? Should you even be holding this?

Your friend didn’t seem to have the same concerns, his facade shattering as he reverted back into the clingy, needy, baby boy you knew as Mikey as he flung himself on you. “I like this one,” he whined, pulling those puppy eyes on you as his fingers pulled at one of several dresses hanging from velvet hangers, revealing white fabric. “Try this first.”

“I-“ You hesitated, but as Mikey’s lips started to pull downwards, you found yourself caving once more to his request. “Okay, okay.”

A bright beam replaced the white-haired man's frown in an instant. “And show me when you’ve put it on.” He insisted, pushing you lightly into the dressing room.

‎‎

Waking into absolute darkness was not anything out of the ordinary for Sanzu, not after twelve years as Mikey’s loyal right arm and not much lesser as Bonten’s executor; didn’t matter if it was dark because he had blacked out in a questionable location where no light reached after too hard a binge on his favorite cocktail mix of drugs, or simply a lack of sight from not being able to physically open his eyes, he had done it all before. Countless times in fact. At least he wasn’t dead yet. But this time, the Bonten second-in-command noted as he tried and failed to lift an arm, this time was different. For one, everything hurts like an absolute bitch: his right leg was throbbing. The tell-tale sharp pain that shot up muscle and resonated in his thigh like a heavy gong was replicated in his chest, an incessant agony that stopped him falling back into the comfortable nothingness he awoke from - this was no doubt from gun wounds. He had been shot it seemed, though when and how would remain a mystery for now.

And for two, this awful stench: the putrid smell of heavily bleached floors that overwhelmed his nose, the odor permeating his throat with every breath he was forced to take. He had long forgotten when he had last been able to smell anything so strongly, and of all the things he could be taking a whiff of, that he rather be taking a whiff of: coffee, tea, or what of sweet, sweet orange candy? But noooo, it had to be this wretched stinkfest. There was no smell that Sanzu hated more than the overwhelming scent of supposed cleanliness and hygiene, yet here he was for no lack of trying. His arms and legs as if weighed down with lead. Where exactly was this? And what was he doing here?

Nothing made sense to his abnormally clear yet throbbing head.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat spat out.” Make that three things that were different.

“Fuck you Haitani, I feel like I was hit by a bus,” Sanzu groaned out hoarsely, throwing a limp hand over his face in a vain attempt to block out the burning overhead lights which end with him slapping himself. He ignored the burst of muffled giggles from the side. “Need some fucking painkillers.”

“Doc says none for you,” another voice drawled out, right on the tail of his older brother as usual. Ah, so both Ran and Rindo were here. Fucking Haitani bastards. “Something about mixing drugs and dying.”

Eyes popping open at the denial of much-needed medication, it was in that moment that the pink-haired man finally recognised the god-forsaken Bonten infirmary that he had awoken in, the sole room he absolutely despised yet the only medical facility he hadn’t been kicked from and banned for life. Another shot of pain rocketed up his leg, a mocking reminder of his lack of drugs, to which Sanzu could only bite down the pain, closing his eyes once more in the hopes that the darkness would help soothe some away (it didn’t). Fuck him indeed. What happened?

He seemed to have said that last part out loud, seeing that Ran answered; the last he checked, neither Ran nor Rindo could mindread just yet, though knowing those bastards, it might be a matter of time. "We heard you fucked up."

Rindo continued. “Attacked Mikey’s little friend, nearly killed her. The boss didn’t seem too pleased to find you with your hands around her neck.”

“So he shot you,” finished Ran, somehow sounding even more smug than usual, an incredible feat in itself.

Words that individually made sense now strung into a sentence didn’t seem to add up at all; what were they talking about? What friend? Why would his king shoot him? “Are yall fucking with me?”

“Why would we? Kakucho told us everything.”

The mention of Bonten’s third-in-command was enough to open the floodgates of memories that had been suppressed by a combination of the trauma of getting shot and his wild day-long drug binge, those green eyes flying back open as your curious face hovering over him instantly flashed across the front of his mind. Scrambling to force his tortured body up into a sitting position, the movement almost sent the pink-haired man over the side of the infirmary bed, his gaze spinning and his head light. “It’s her?” His words came out as more of a croak, blown gaze sweeping the room to land on the silent black-haired man who he finally noticed, sitting in the corner busy flipping through a book - had he been present at the scene? Not that Sanzu remembered. "Did you see her?" He demanded.

The uncomfortably clean room fell silent, as if Kakucho was contemplating what to reply. The pistol very visibly resting in the other’s lap didn't phase Sanzu in the slightest; he knew why it was there, deducing that it was most likely a direct order from the boss to keep Sanzu from leaving, but he was still the second-in-command. Mikey's right hand. Any command he gave that didn't override his king's was to be obeyed. The pause before the other's response was short, and the reply was as simple and straightforward as Kakucho himself was. "It's her."

Ran nodded along. "Kind of a runt, highschool kid. Never expected her to be so small." Seems like the purple-haired man had his own little run-in.

"Watch your tongue," Sanzu snapped back automatically, though his mind was in a mess elsewhere. He had expected it, but Kakucho's answer still somehow threw him into a binder, the pink-haired man slumping back down to the bed. You. You were back like a ghost to haunt him. To haunt Mikey. To ruin their lives once more, like you did all those years ago. Why couldn't he get rid of you, put you to rest like an exorcist spirit? What did you want? But despite his initial surge of anxiety and anger at the mere idea of having to deal with you and all the problems you brought, he couldn’t quite grasp what exactly had pushed him over the edge.

You were no longer just the big, bad enemy that Sanzu had to get rid of to keep Mikey on his destined path. You were that feeling of a warm hug, of home. If he strained his fraying memory to the edge, the pink-haired man was sure he could still bring up a memory of a kindness that no one had shown him before you - a bag of hot, crispy karaage. A homely taste that warmed his belly on a bad day like nothing he had never experienced previously. His head felt…messed with? “Am I crazy?” He muttered to himself, before raising his voice enough for the others to hear. “I feel like my memories…changed?”

Apparently this was enough to pique Kakucho’s interest, as per the creak of his chair as he leaned forward. “In what sense?”

“Like - I changed the way I felt about her. New memories that I don’t remember having-” Sanzu shook himself out of the daze. No. He couldn't let himself get distracted - bribed - so easily. You were still the enemy, the largest obstacle he needed to clear from his king's life, crispy, home fried karaage or no. “Just me?”

Ran hummed, while Rindo scoffed and spoke up. “Just you,” he confirmed. “Probably the drugs.”

Sanzu tsked. It wasn’t the drugs, but he wasn’t going to get anything more than that from those bastard brothers. “Where’s Mikey?”

“Should be back in his room asleep.” The younger Haitani popped out the lollipop he had been sucking on, waving it casually in the air as he spoke, though the clear taunting smirk plastered across Rindo’s face said everything Sanzu needed to know. Back in his room?

“Wouldn’t you like to know~” Ran sang.

‎

Returning from the dangerous, dirty outdoors (or so your needy friend said) with an entire fresh new wardrobe was a good enough excuse for Mikey to insist on you taking another shower, and you saw no reason to disagree. The sun had already fully given way to the night sky when you finally left the shop and its exceedingly helpful attendants, though there were no stars to be seen from behind the heavily tinted window on your ride back to the gated compound. You were, funnily enough, thankful to be finally away from so many pairs of curious eyes no matter how discreet they were and despite how lonely you had been before; being at the center of any kind of attention was draining, but Mikey didn’t seem the slightest bit affected. But of course he wouldn’t. He led a biker gang.

Mikey didn’t let you see your new belongings being rung up, let alone the final total cost of the haul, though that didn’t stop you from having an inkling at the minimum number of zeroes that must have been attached to the end of the tab, an amount you had no hope of repaying ever. You did notice the other white-haired man - Koko, you recalled - had re-entered the store just ast you slid into the car; perhaps he was the one handling the payment? And if he was, well, you could only hope that he wouldn’t be too angry at the damage, even if Mikey had assured you that it was alright. The shopping from the trip had been neatly packed away, filling up some of the many empty wardrobes that lined the walls of the bedroom, save for the single mind-bogglingly expensive white party dress and accompanying shoes that Mikey had talked you into, which hung prominently from the back of his bedroom door.

You had to admit that the dress was perfect in every sense, almost like it was tailored for you: it hugged your body in just the right places, the fabric just heavy enough to not lift with a strong gust yet light enough that your fingers could drag through without resistance. Mikey was right, and you did like it a lot, even if you did initially think that it looked rather much like a wedding dress as opposed to one for a part; and you had to admit that you started looking forward to that party next week much more, should you still be here.

But now, even with Mikey fast asleep cuddled up in your arms just like the previous nights, you couldn’t quite fall asleep just yet, your mind preoccupied with the small, dimly lit screen of your phone. You had found it when your white-haired friend was out for his own shower, tucked away in one hidden corner of the room amidst the rest of the belongings you had arrived with in the future: school bag, umbrella, shoes and all. To your surprise, the network symbol held strong when you flipped it open for the first time in days, and you had no issues connecting back onto the same carrier you had used despite it having been an unknown number of years. Had Mikey also been maintaining this all this time?

Yet it was Baji’s number that stared back at you from the phone, his contact still seemingly active. Your finger hovered over the send button, a sudden sense of doubt settling on the base of your gut. What if- what if you were wrong? What if the number had already been transferred and you were just bothering them? Or worse, what if it was your number was the one that had been transferred and was instead the number of some criminal? And you got Baji in trouble?

The simple words dancing in the backlight of your screen now looked a lot more menacing than before. Maybe you shouldn’t, that nagging voice in the back of your head whispered, and your thumb shifted to hover on the tantalizing ‘delete’ button.

But then again, you reasoned, pushing that voice away as best you could, you would never find out if you didn’t send it. Perhaps you should include the name of your intended addressee, so all it would take would be a glance for the number’s new owner to know if it was a mistaken message - yes, you should do that indeed. What was the worst that could happen anyway, you consoled yourself, nimble fingers flying over the keypad; at most you will get a ‘wrong number’ or no response at all.

You squinted, looking over the screen again. Hi! Is this Baji Keisuke? This is - And there the cursor hovered as you reconsidered your decision. Mikey shifted in your arms with a whine, threatening to wake up and stir up a fuss if you didn’t choose soon. Finally mustering up the courage to add your name to the end, you hit send before you could regret your decision, shutting your phone with a distinctive click.

Quickly shelving the small phone back onto the empty side table, you made yourself comfortable, shifting slightly to bundle Mikey better in your arms and make sure that you didn’t wake with a dead arm once more; the night was already late, and you weren’t going to get an answer within the next few hours. No matter if Baji was still a delinquent, even he would be fast asleep by now.

‎

Three long, miserable days and two nights it had been since any of them had last seen hide or hair of you, and the cold war twelve years in the past raged on at full steam, threatening to escalate into a full civil war with every passing hour. The divide between Mikey and Kazutora was only spreading to the rest of the gang, complete with rumors whirling about Kazutora looking to split and start a rival gang. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility the other four Toman founders had to admit, despite them failing to take a side yet - you really were the glue that held Toman together, and as much as Draken and Baji tried to reason with the two stubborn boys, there would come a time that they would have to turn against Kazutora, as much as that would break them, if you didn’t return soon.

The world for once seemed to sympathize with the poor mortals that inhabited the earth below it, overcast skies rumbling and mourning your absence. Everything just seemed that much desolate without you. But it was under an uneasy truce that the feuding boys met along the small side street near your school from which you vanished; Kauztora and Mikey all but staring the other down with unblinking empty eyes that held promises of pain and death, though their attention was quickly drawn away with the appearance of a masked, calculative Sanzu. Even before Mikey could demand what his former childhood bestfriend wanted, why Kazutora could question why he had summon them here at this godforsaken hour, the rustle of a plastic bag being pulled from the front pocket of his black Toman uniform pants. The sight of the onomori from the creation of the Tokyo Manji gang, the charm they had gifted to you to bless them with your constant presence, your bloodied charm; swinging innocently inside the plastic bag. “I found this just along the sidewalk here,” Sanzu explained to the jaw-dropped yet deadly silent founders, those pairs of predatory eyes all bearing down on him. “Yesterday night.”

If he hadn’t added those last two words, the Fifth Division Vice Captain was sure his head would already made an acquaintance with the ground. Or maybe he would have been dead. Maybe both even, given those glares sent forth by the two warring parties that stabbed at him.

One heartbeat, then two, and when Sanzu blinked - the bag was gone from his hand, wrestled away by Mikey, though the blond-haired boy wasn’t alone.

“You again,” hissed Kazutora, his fingers equally dug into the bag in an attempt to take your charm for himself. “You’re still trying to keep her for yourself.”

“And I could say the same for you,” Mikey retorted, eyes narrowing dangerously as his grip tightened. This was all they had of you, and this traitor wanted to keep it for himself? Unacceptable.

It was the plastic that gave way first under the might of both delinquents, tearing along the stressed middle, the onomori starting its journey towards the ground. All Mitsuya had the time to shout was “charm!”, and both pair of fingers moved to catch, brushing the purple cloth in an instant.

A sudden strong gust of wind almost rocketed all seven boys off their feet, rushing down the small side street as if a divine hurricane sent forth by an angered god. And only Sanzu instantly understood when from thin air you appeared, standing and blinking groggily at the herd of your stunned friends, wearing a set of evidently expensive silk pajamas that no one recognised. But you seemed a lot less surprised than them, stretching your arms above your head and letting slip a yawn before you began to speak. "Guys, I think I might have gone to the future," you mumbled.

‎

As the sun rose on the quiet Bonten headquarters, long after Ran, Rindo and Kakucho have left Sanzu to his thoughts alone in the infirmary, it was the anguished scream echoing down the corridors that wretched Bonten’s second-in-command from his uneasy rest. But he wasn’t alone, by the sounds of pounding footsteps that rushed down the corridor in the direction of Executive’s Row. In all the years they, the Bonten executives, had faithfully followed Mikey, the man had never once shown weakness, blank empty eyes always silently observing horrendous crimes committed in his name; yet there was no doubt. The furious, grieving, desperate cry, there was no mistaking who it came from, or what had happened. You had once more vanished from Mikey’s arms.

‎

Across a now bustling town, black-haired man stumbled out of bed despite the sun having long hung in the sky, smashing snooze on his way; those sleepy yellow eyes all but missing the new message that flashed across the lock screen of his new smartphone. And a few blocks away, Takemichi and Naoto stood determined outside a motorcycle shop, the shutters raised yet the interior still darkened.

“This is Draken’s shop?” Takemichi questioned once more, and Naoto confirmed. He had checked and double checked, and all the records pointed here. Given Ken Ryuguji was the only Toman founder outside of Sano Manjiro that Takemichi knew the full name off, and that he was alive in this time line, perhaps the former Toman Vice Captain would be able to shed some light on the twelve years that had passed - surely having been so close to you in the past, he would have kept his ear to the ground for any news on you or Mikey.

Takemichi took a deep breath, hand reaching for the door bell. “Then let’s do this.”

416 notes · View notes

austinbutlerslovers · 4 months

Text

Major Gale Fantasy 4

Lake House Lessons

Label Mature 18+

Gale is going to be stationed away from you indefinitely, not knowing when he’ll return as the war efforts increase. He takes you to his inherited lake house and trains you to use a firearm to ensure you can protect yourself while he is away. Seeing how powerful you look wielding his weapon …gun kink insues.

Established relationship married

1940 domestic plot heavy kinky ending

Gun fetish•stimulation with object •gunk kink•penetration with object• non complete masturbation• p in v• hips pinned •triple orgasm fem• creampie •aftercare

Inspo: ‘Depravity’ by 🫠 @lindszeppelin (Austin as Elvis hard smut gun kink)

Spelling errors grammatical mistakes repeatwords starts

~*Lake House Lessons*~

Gale had an important military briefing and was informed he would be restationed in 2 weeks as the war efforts increased. He wasn’t informed of how long he’d be stationed or when he would return.

On his drive home as he prepared to tell you the news he decided right then to treat you on a romantic getaway to spend his last days with you.

He wanted to take you to his inherited lake house. As he arrived home he held you by your arms and told you he would be re stationed with an indefinite date of return. He hugged you close as you slumped into him.

He loved you so much his heart ached as you choked back a sob. You wanted to stay strong and proud of him for serving his country. He cupped your face in his hands wiping your tears away telling you to pack a bag for the weekend that he planned a get away for you two, it brought a weak smile back to your face he was always so thoughtful.

He packed the car with your suitcases and opened your door for you joining you sitting inside and starting the engine to begin the long drive to the lake house.

You head through town into the country side, the hills begin forming into larger mountains covered with forests. The weather changing from over cast to heavy cloud coverage with gray low fog rolling over the tree lines. Gale told you to pack warmly and you pull the collar of your coat tighter around your face as the temperature drops inside the car.

He reaches over and squeezes your thigh gently “I can’t wait to show this place.” He says eyes flashing in excitement. You place your hand on his “You’ve never taken me here before Gale what is it like?” You feel his enthusiasm.

“You’re gonna love it, everything is rustic and quiet in the woods. The lake house was a never ending hobby of renovations for my parents since I was a boy they built it from the ground up. I would visit summers and swim in the lake I remember helping my Pa saw some of the beams.”

You watch his eyes light up reminiscing bringing a smile to your face as he continues

“I kept the legacy going upgrading it, the kitchen was the last thing being constructed by the grounds keeper the last few months. It’s been uninhabited a few years now, but I planned to take you here as soon as I received the letter it was complete. When the letter arrived last week I knew…” his voice trails off losing his excitement reality filtering back in.

You take his hand and hold it tight, your eyes dart out the window holding in your tears, you know he’s leaving and just wants to spend his last days doing something special with you before he goes, so you lock up your emotions to let him enjoy his time.

You leave the main road onto a private one winding up into a darker wooded forest he clicks on the hood lights. You peer up through the windshield the sky is almost completely covered by the branches of enormous pine trees blocking out the sun.

Your eyes look back to the road ending there is a clearing and a large awning that reads “Cleven Lake House.” Gale parks the car at the entrance and exits.

He walks in font of the headlights in his fur collar leather bomber jacket and pulls the gate open that is closing the road.

He gets back in the car driving you onto the property through a grass clearing on a dirt path leading to a large wooden cabin with an enormous lake valley behind it in the distance.

“Oh wow it is lovely.” You say immediately entranced by the infinite size of the lake and the valley of mountain surrounding it. He parks the car in front of the house and steps out coming around to get your door.

As you exit and stand you close your eyes immediately inhaling the fresh crisp mountain air with the strong scent of pine needles and soft hints of forest florals.

You step to Gale reaching into his bomber jacket around his warm torso hugging him to say thank you in the colder mountain climate he reciprocates by petting your head lovingly. This is exactly where you need to be, completely alone with him in such a beautiful isolated location.

After your embrace he grabs the suitcases from the trunk slamming it closed and heading with you up the steps to the porch. He sets the suitcases down and retrieves the keys from his pocket unlocking the front door.

You enter the lake house and are greeted with the strong smell of cedar. It is an open floor plan with a kitchen and hall on your left and a large stone fireplace and living room on your right. All the furniture is covered with drop cloths there are plastic tarps covering the kitchen from the recent construction. Two large windows and a door adorn the back wall over looking the fog covered lake. You walk through the space like a moth to a flame stopping just shy of the glass to experience the view.

Gale resets the suitcases inside and locks the front door. As he walks up behind you holding you around your waist pressing soft kisses against your ear he whispers “Do you like it sweetheart?“ His deep voice so soothing . You love it when he holds you close and whispers like this . “Yes I love it” you answer reaching up to hold the nape of his neck comforting him.

You two gaze at the view for a moment longer until he squeezes your waist, you release him with a quick kiss to go unpack. He puts away the food and supplies you brought in the kitchen, removing all the tarps and covers settling in for the after noon.

You head to the master bedroom upstairs, there is a hallway landing at the top with a cupboard . As you push open the heavy oak bedroom door it is much darker inside.

Light creeps in through a sliver in the closed curtained window overlooking the lake. A stripped queen bed with a large wooden head board is flanked by two nightstands and lamps on your left.

A large empty bookshelf is against the opposite wall with are two reading chairs and a side table. There is also a second door inside the bedroom.

You push it open to see where it leads and discover a bathroom inside. There is a large two person claw foot tub under a large mountain view window. The setting is beautiful.

You return to the bedroom and pull open the curtains revealing the large lake view, it’s breathtaking seeing the water from a higher vantage point. You can down the mountain valley lake for miles.

You get to work finding the linens in the cupboard at the top of the stairs and make the bed. You prop up the last pillow to make it look inviting and comfortable.

When you head back downstairs Gale has already started the living room fire. Both of you never removed your coats due to the house being such a cold temperature until now.

He sits on the couch staring at a mahogany wooden box on the table in front of him. The fireplace roars to life brightening the room. He’s fixated on the wooden case as you approach, finally looking up to you he begins to speak.

“You know I’m leaving…and that this time it’s different, I don’t know when I’m coming back…I need to know for certain you can protect yourself while I’m away.” He says solemnly, your eyes look from his down to the mahogany box with the realization his pistol is incased inside.

Your heart jumps a bit. You’ve seen him strapped with it before on military occasions but you’ve always had trouble bridging the gap that your sweet gentle husband was indeed trained to be a cold calculated killer and that he wants to train you to be the same if necessary. It was all going to your head, you try to remain calm and join him on the couch awaiting his instructions.

He places his hands on the lid of the box in front of you and hinges it open. You peer inside at the gun rested in its indent of satin. It’s very ornate and not what you were expecting at all. The gun metal is black with a shimmering mother of pearl inlay on the handle.

Your hands are frozen at your sides. Gale picks one up and places it to touch the handle smiling at you warmly trying to soothe your apprehension. Your heart is thumping wildly in your chest, you don’t want to make any mistakes. ”It’s unloaded but still be careful “ he says to reassure you. It drops your anxiety a bit.

You trace your fingers down the mother of pearl plate “Did you chose this?” you ask never having seen such an elegant detail on a gun. “Yes as a Major I can choose the accents on my weapons” he says staring at it fondly.

“I want to take you to practice with it out here on the shore bank.” He looks in your eyes making sure you agree and you nod. He pries the gun out of the case and stands taking you with him. You watch the weight of the gun in his hand as he carries it low by his hip. You’re not sure if it’s frightening or arousing or that you feel completely safe with him, maybe a mix of all three.

You head out the back door across the porch down the steps to the shore line. Your heart racing all the while in the chill of the air never having even touched a firearm before today and now he wants you to shoot one.

He stands at the bank and motions for you to move to his side “The hot cartridge will eject out after I fire” he says getting into position. It dawns on you that he’s going to shoot it out over the lake.

It’s almost evening and the chill in the air is getting colder. He takes a clip out of his jacket pocket and loads the bottom of the pistol with a distinct sharp

‘Clink’

“I’m going to shoot a live round” he explains clicking off the safety. You wait as he lines up a target across the lake. You watch his secure stance the way he braces his arms tilting his head before he takes a shot the loud “ bang” cracks through the silence echoing making you jump and cover your ears.

He looks back to check on you and smirks seeing you covering your ears with your eyes closed. He forgot his caliber of gun must be very loud for you. The mood lightens after the initial shock you smile at him embarrassed for being so startled.

“C’mere” he smiles as he gestures switching his gun in hand aimed out at the lake, he opens his arms taking you in holding you close to him. His chest against your back, he brings his face close to yours resting his chin on your shoulder, he gently nudges your feet apart with his boot widening your stance with his he finally places your hand on the gun with his.

“Never put your finger on this trigger unless you have a target and plan to fire.” He speaks softly in your ear.

“Look out at the lake and choose a target” he instructs you decide to shoot a few meters away into the water to see where the bullet will hit.

“Once you’ve got your target aim the gun using the view finder to be precise.” He says pointing at the tip of the barrel. You take a deep breath looking down the ridge and see the divots of the finder and aim.

He places his hand under your elbow bracing it “Tense these arms it will recoil if you don’t brace, I want you to be safe” he says reassuringly. Your blood begins coursing through your veins as you realize how powerful firing a weapon is. He releases the gun to your hands it dips as you hold the full weight making you realign with your target. He steps back placing his large hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“It’s loaded and the safety is off you can fire now” he says. He patiently waits and watches your movements standing directly behind you.

After all of his instruction you slip your finger into the trigger and squeeze, the loud “bang” breaks the silence. The powerful gun recoils against your palm sending a shock wave through your hand into your braced arms. The bullet whizzes piercing a splash through the lake.

A smile spreads across your face that you can’t contain. You feel so powerful and confident firing your first shot. He places his hand over your forearms guiding them down making you lower your weapon.

You look back to him over your shoulder for his approval and he grasps your jaw pulling you into a kiss. He continues kissing you deeper wanting more, even with the gun still in your hands aimed at the floor. He breaks the kiss so aroused by what he witnessed and how much he wants you, his cock begins to swell.

“I want you to do it again but this time I’m not going to help you” he says releasing you and taking a few steps back to watch.

You turn and steady your stance picking a target on the lake. You raise your weapon with your arms braced in front for the recoil. You tilt your head to the side narrowing your target down with the finder. You squeeze the trigger the loud bang rips through the silence echoing across the lake as the bullet pierces a splash into the surface again.

You lower Gales weapon satisfied and look back to see his reaction. He's staring in awe at you, fixed gaze pupils dilated, his lips parting as his breaths increase. You trail your eyes from his face down his body and see the prevalent outline of his hard cock in his military pants. Your face changes to a flirtatious grin realizing he’s aroused by you with his weapon. “Mmm Major you must really like watching me play with your gun” you tease trailing your finger down the barrel giving him a show.

He palms himself biting his lower lip realizing he needs to calm down and react normally. He collects his gun from you. “Come with me” he says looking at the sun starting to lower behind the mountains. He takes your cold hand getting you both back inside where it’s warm. You smile to yourself knowing his new sexual obsession watching you use his weapon.

He places a cloth on the living room table in front of the fireplace making the loud clink sound of wood on metal sound as he places his heavy gun on top. It’s nice and cozy now in the lake house you remove your jackets and sit together.

He shows you how to release and reload the cartridge, click on and off safety. So confident and direct with his actions like the weapon is a piece of him and it’s all muscle memory. It fascinates you that he’s so resolute with such a dangerous object.

You copy his technique at a much slower pace unloading and reloading the gun clicking the safety on and off the feeling foreign, the gun heavy and rigid in your dainty hands.

He stares at you while you work imparting knowledge as he caresses your shoulder. “Never shoot unless you can see your target and always aim at center mass for the greatest chance of inflicting injury” You nod in agreement secretly hoping never to do this.

Satisfied he releases the cartridge clip and shows you how to clean the weapon through the barrel wiping it down. “Always assume a gun is loaded” he says staring at you with intent, you nod and both place the pistol back in its case.

Once the gun is sealed inside the mahogany he carts both his hand behind your neck pulling you in to a deep passionate kiss. You are getting lost in his kisses the heavier they get, it’s such an intimate moment in front of the fire as the sun sets behind the lake.

He is enamored he taught his woman how to protect herself until he returns, just incase anything should happen. He softly breaks the kiss he rubs his thumb gently across your jaw. A smile spreads across his face. “I have a gift for you”

He stands and goes to the kitchen reaching on top of the refrigerator to retrieve it. He returns and sits next to you holding a minor scale mahogany case that he hands over. “This is for you“ he says placing it in your hands. You hinge it open on your lap and see the same gun as his but smaller.

He moves closer and puts his arm around you sensing that you like it. “It’s a 9 millimeter not as big and loud as mine which is a .45, but this one is ideal for personal protection I’ll show you how.” He repeats the same steps as before showing you how to use the smaller gun then having you demonstrate for him.

Once the lesson is over you pick up the weapon and stand aiming it at the fire place mock firing the trigger remembering the techniques he taught you.

He palms himself as he stares up at the wood beams of the ceiling trying to distract himself. He keeps getting so hard seeing you with firearms. Unable to stand another minute he decides he needs to know what you look like naked holding his pistol. The vision burning in his mind ever since he held you as you fired your first shot.

He stands from the couch stepping behind you placing one hand around your torso hugging you close to him placing his right hand on your forearms making you lower your weapon.

He slips his hand on top of yours both of you gripping the gun handle. It’s so alluring to him he nuzzles his nose against your neck before he presses his lips on your skin. He kisses up to your ear as he whispers"I want to try something new with you tonight, but I need you to trust me completely” You turn your head slightly, already piqued. You smile already guessing what his request will be but nod for him to continue.

“Ever since I saw you wielding my weapon I can’t get it out of my mind to see you naked with it” He says caressing your naval with his left hand, cock growing harder against you that he finally said it. “Can we do that tonight?” His words are so soft in your ear as he asks honestly.

You turn to face him gun in hand, he eyes you warily as you bring your arms to place around his neck. You rest the pistol between his shoulder blades his cock twitches against your leg feeling the hard metal hit against his back. You love seeing the shock on his face and how much it’s arousing him you plant a soft kiss on his lips looking into his eyes.

He’s slightly terrified because you are such a novice handling a firearm but also sexually aroused because he feels a little powerless against you with it.

You smile coyly, gently running the gun barrel slowly between his shoulder blades making him sweat. “Honey don’t play like that with weapons ” he whispers but his cock is now solid pressing into your thigh. You giggle mischievously “Or what? You say tapping the gun hard several times against his spine. He winces as it clinks against him on each hit.

He squeezes your waist to control you showing he’s stronger. Lowering his gaze through his brows he asks you nicely “Put your gun away please” he says gently. He sees the glint of danger in your eyes he already knows you are getting power hungry, it’s exhilarating for you but he wants to get off with what he has in mind.

You form your lips in a mock pout “You’re not going let me have any fun are you” you say smiling as you release him and put the gun back in its box snapping it shut.

A grin spreads across his face never having imagined having a gun fetish and now you’ve even given him permission to explore it. He can barely contain his anticipation. He takes your mahogany case returning it back on top of the refrigerator. He retrieves his gun case from the living room table and grabs your hand almost pulling you to the bedroom with how excited he is.

He pushes open the large oak door, it is dark in the master bedroom, only the view of the lake glinting moonlight on its surface dimly lights the space. He goes to the bed side lamps and clicks them on.

“Get undressed for me” he asks and goes to sit in the chair across from the foot of the bed placing his mahogany gun case on the table as he waits.

You remove all of your clothing standing in front of him bare, the lamps behind you creating a glowing silhouette. His eyes wander your naked form his body jumping in arousal that he hasn’t full-filled his urges with you today. He crooks his finger motioning for you to stand in front of him.

As you do he pries open the box picking up the gun by its barrel and offering the handle to you. You take it feeling the cold heavy weight of it in your hand again. He sits back in his chair just in complete admiration of you, so vulnerable yet so powerful at the same time. “Touch your self with it” he says placing his hand on his cock to edge himself as you do.

You touch the side of the top of the gun against your navel it’s so cold and metallic, you trail it up your body. You make eye contact with him as you drag the side of the barrel across your nipples making them harder.

You hear him groan as he tries to contain himself, you smile watching him squeeze his cock through his pants struggling not to get off on seeing you like this.

You extend your arm aiming the gun at his left knee and he freezes. His eyes lock with yours. “Honey don…” before he starts you cut him off

“Take off your clothes Gale” you tell him with a cocky smile.

He stands up eyeing you sternly you keep the gun firmly aimed at him while he unbuttons and removes his shirt revealing his muscular chest and abs, his biceps flinching as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

He’s angry and it makes you even more excited you never see him lose him temper. You smile and bite you lip loving being in charge motioning with the gun for him to take off more. He is absolutely livid yet so aroused he can’t decide what to do with you.

Hes certain the clip empty until you make a ‘click’ removing the safety and his eyes grow wide. “Shit!…” he says cursing for the first time undressing faster his pants and boxers and socks adding to the pile on the floor.

Once he’s fully naked you can’t help but stare at his impressive cock he’s so hard for you the tip is deep red begging to be drained. You don’t know why but you want to scare him even more taking a few steps closer.

Before you can even think he’s on you with expert precision, forcefully slipping his arm around yours prying the gun from your grip, taking your back and disarming you while trapping you to his chest.

His forearm is pressing hard against your throat as you struggle against him unable to move or freely breathe, your passion igniting being pulled against his naked body so abruptly not realizing he’s so strong, his hard cock set between the backs of your thighs.

It’s the single most erotic thing you’ve ever seen him do sending a chill through your body. “What are you doing hm?” He says angrily breathing against you ear arousing you even more. “You never aim a gun at someone like that” he chastises you as you try to stay focused too excited by him overpowering you, wanting him to do more.

You reach his arm that he has held up and away from you with the firearm. He pulls his arm back farther gripping your neck tighter as you struggle to breathe, his eyes staring at you wildly in concern as you reach for the gun until he hears you weakly say. “Touch me with it please” and his eyes soften. He loosens his press on your throat checking the gun pulling it back, you hear the metal slide tap closed confirming it’s empty.

You catch your breath just as he takes hold of you again realizing it’s exciting to you. He presses his forearm into your throat in a way that gets you seeing stars,and releases it right before you pass out. He brings the gun down pressing the side of the cold metal barrel against your soft hot clitoris.

“AAHHH” You cry out struggling against him as he holds you tighter. Your legs squirm as he runs the barrel up and down through your folds covering it in your wetness making you involuntarily clench against nothing. You loose all your resolve from the hard stimulation shocking you into arousal as you begin whining for him.

“Look at you getting your slick all over my gun” he breathes in your ear. “What got in to you hm? You thought Id like that little trick you pulled back there?… I’ll show you what I like“ he says seductively. He was going to go easy on you tonight but now he’s going all the way.

He pulls your shoulder turning you out of his grasp, you look into his eyes as he places his left palm on your chest his right hand still carrying the pistol as he pushes you back until you are on the bed making your way to the middle.

When he climbs onto you and settles between your legs with his gun in hand you have a feeling he wants to put it inside of you, instead he clicks the safety on and places it up and away. He leans his face over yours diving in and kissing you.

Your lips part tongues slipping into each others mouths, he’s so passionate and soft with you after his aggression it has you trembling as your lips overlap with his. Your hands reach up to the nape of his neck fingers gripping his hair, you need him inside of you.

You are already grinding your pelvis against him trying to relieve the tension, he senses your need and stealthily brings the gun back down pressing the hard coldness of the barrel against your inner thigh making your body jump as you gasp on his lips.

He keeps kissing you as he drags the barrel to your pelvis and slips it up and down through your folds a second time he’s going to make you enjoy it depriving you of any other stimulation.

The angular rigid shape of the gun is pressing so hard into your soft inner flesh you cant help but grind your hips up and down against it and use it relieve the sexual tension. You whine into his mouth trying to resist the urge.

He lifts to watch your every reaction his blue eyes piercing into yours as he smiles with enjoyment seeing you endure your mental breaking point actually gaining pleasure as he rubs the gun through your wet folds. It warms to your skin as he keeps going causing a pleasurable sensation that you know is so wrong but you give in trusting him completely.

He looks down to his hand and playfully taps the pistol between your legs making you flinch and whimper on each hit until you are accustomed to the feel.

He begins planting kisses from your neck down your chest his tongue darting out licking circles on your nipples before sucking one at a time into his mouth you begin leaking arousal between your legs panting for him, he knows you need his cock.

Instead he guides his hand pointing the gun between your legs planning to insert it there making him so hard he stops himself aiming it back to the bed. “How far can I go?” He asks permission his breaths increasing rapidly from arousal. He trails hot kisses back up your neck soothing both of your rising nerves knowing what he’s asking you to do for him.

He’s barely touched you only continuously edging you with the pistol making your body ache with need working you into his desire.

His face is directly over yours as he lowers his abs and chest down on top of you his hard cock touching between your legs against your heat. The weight of his body on yours and having his cock so close to your entrance drives you sexually insane for him.

He kisses a sweet spot on your neck and sucks it making you see stars your core is throbbing needing to be filled, all your shame flies out the window with the words “Please put it inside of me right know”

He pulls his face back from kissing your neck looking at you confirming what he heard, “Please Gale the pistol first then your cock”’ you beg him and his cock twitches between your legs as you slide yourself against it panting, the tension inside becoming to much for you to bear.

You see something click in his eyes unlocking a fetish that he wanted he presses his full lips with yours kissing and sucking one then the other before parting them with his tongue tasting your mouth. Your lips are cherry red from the stimulation.

He tilts the pistol aiming it between your parted legs and circles the barrel around your entrance until your legs are writhing in pleasure and he slowly pushes the hard barrel inside of your soft entrance. You moan loudly into his mouth and he seals it in with a kiss.

Your breath catches in your throat as your hands grasp his strong chiseled biceps stunned and tensing around the cold hardness as it spreads you open.

You cry out adjusting to the foreign feeling as he plants more kisses on your face then peeks down to see. He gently guides the barrel all the way in watching your body envelop it to the trigger. “You’re doing so good for me honey” he says locking eyes with you again, his plush lips already panting against your face.

He’s loving every second and wants to see more, he sits back on his heels with your legs apart for him. He holds the pistol inside of you eyeing the mother of pearl handle in his grasp as he slips the heavy barrel in and out of you when you begin to shiver he pushes it all the way and holds it there. He takes his other hand and begins pumping his throbbing cock from the sight.

He moans loudly, his breaths quicken with his strokes he wants to cum so badly but stops himself abruptly, panting heavily above you. “I need to be inside of you“ he says full of desperation. “Please take me” he begs you wanting the feeling your tight wetness instead of his hand. You nod yes and smile, you want his warm cock too.

He carefully slides his pistol all the way back out of your body. Your core pulsing as he removes the barrel covered in your slick making you whimper as you clench inside. “Holy shit…you sexed my gun” he says above a whisper.

He stares at the barrel glistening from your silky arousal imprinted in his mind forever. A shudder runs though his body realizing he's taking it to war with him. He places it back to the top of the mattress and looks at your folds warm and wet for him.

Hes so high from his fetish being fulfilled that giving you multiple orgasms is all that’s on his mind. He wants to give you as many as he can, his eyes wandering lustfully over your perfect naked body.

He thumbs your clit in circles making your back arch from the bed and positions himself between your legs holding his body up with his arms as he touches his cock head to your entrance. He looks into your eyes slowly pushing the tip in refilling you.

“Ohhh You’re so Hard!” you moan as he sinks in and your walls grip him tightly. He pauses as he stretches you letting you adjust before he goes deeper making you wetter.

He’s looking down at you enraptured .“I can’t believe …you did that for me” he exhales gently sliding his cock all the way in, He presses his hips forward until you feel his tip pulsing against your cervix.

He pulls half way out and strongly smacks back into you repeatedly giving you everything you desire. “Please don’t stop “ you beg him hands clasping his broad shoulders feeling like your core will snap at any moment.

He holds one hand around your waist thumb caressing your navel as he sits back on his heels holding your other leg against him he leans back, riding his cock into you and using your waist for leverage to guide back and forth on his length.

He increase his speed thrusting harder, his hips begin pounding between your legs. You cup your breasts as they jolt against you from his powerful hits. He works his lower back so forcefully it makes you cry out triggering your climax.

He squeezes your thighs and thrusts into your clenching walls as you take him “I want you to cum for me” he says pivoting his hips up making you feel every pleasurable thrust of his cock hitting so deep against your cervix it overtakes all your senses. You moan out yes repeatedly feeling your body tingle from the surge of pleasure as the tightness snaps releasing the first orgasm in your core.

Your breaths are shuddering as he slips both hands on your hips holding them for leverage and gyrates his cock into you. It’s so powerful it makes your brain go void hands falling to the sheets gripping them as this new angle triggers your second climax and he has you wildly moaning “I’m going to fall apart“ you gasp feeling your self physically implode into the second orgasm. Your head tips back as your walls squeeze his cock so overwhelmed with pleasure you can feel the rush coursing through your entire body.

You are trembling in after shock as he continues his thrusts. He wraps your legs higher on his hips one at a time, a new angle to trigger your third orgasm. Your vision is going blurry almost foggy white. You feebly try to push him off the feeling so good but so intense at the same time

He leans down pressing his chest on yours working his hip hard making his cock touch the deepest part inside of you.

You cry out desperately and clutch onto his shoulders staring into each others eyes as your legs squeeze tighter around him at your breaking point “Gale please I…I..can’t orgasm again please” you beg him between his continuous hard thrusts. “ Give me one more “ he says over the wet slapping sounds of his cock pounding into you from your first two orgasms.

Your moans are so weak from sexual overstimulation and you feel the sudden peak in your core as an all consuming force takes over. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you clench on im feeling the most intense orgasm crash through your entire body making you cum warm liquid around his cock.

You try to push your hips up to get him out of you, the feeling so overwhelming as your walls flutter on his cock shocking your body with so much intensity all the energy completely drains from your core and you collapse in a heap on the bed in euphoria.

He rests his full weight on you holding you down to release his cum. He moans deeply against you feeling how drenched you are between your legs. You feel his cock pulsing triggering his orgasm.

He’s wetly pounding into you, his body tensing, his face and neck flushing red as the veins begin pulsing hard on his throat. He presses himself deep inside of you and his abs clenched as his cock releases thick silky ropes of ejaculate into your core. You both cry out in pleasure and you cling to him as he rests on top of you burying his face in your neck groaning so loudly near your ear it rattles your brain. He works his hips draining his cock completely into you on his final thrusts.

He stops all his movements exhausted breathing heavily against your neck his chest expanding against yours. You reach up and caress down his neck soothing him.

He kisses your ear and shifts his weight up once he’s relaxed. He presses your hips down using them as leverage to pull out and you both moan as his cock head slips out.

He pulls you to lay on his chest he reaching his hand to to caress your chin “Are you alright?” He asks tilting your head up to look at him.

You smile dreamily “Yes I feel fine” you say. He plants kisses on your forehead showing his appreciation of how strong your are. An idea forms in his mind as he pushes your sweaty hair back from your face.

“I’m going to run us a bath ” he says carefully slipping his arm from under you and replacing it with a pillow he knows he’s mentally and physically exhausted you. He squeezes your hip gently as he leaves the bed.

You hear him filling the bear claw bath tub. Your body is weary your eyes are heavy but you force yourself to stay awake sitting up in bed.

Gale returns when the bath water is filled. He sits on the edge of the bed just watching you sit curled up hugging your knees, your head resting on top of them he reaches and caresses your exposed back the sheet only covering your knees in the front. He looks so good naked you peek at his muscular thighs giggling as you see his large cock resting between his legs.

“What is it?” He asks looking down and back up at you with a mischievous smirk. He grabs your foot under the sheet making you squeal “Tell me what you’re giggling about over there, you giggling seeing my cock you must be giddy from all that I did to you” He says and you bury your face in your knees hiding in embarrassment.

You feel the sheet sliding off of you as he tugs it down to reveal you naked. “Let me see yours” he growls playfully “Gale No!” you say laughing grabbing back as much of the sheet as you can. He completely strips the sheet off of you and scoops you up in his arms.

He carries you to the bathtub setting you down and giving you his hand guiding you in. You submerge in the water which rises all the way to your chest, he climbs in the tub behind you water slapping around as he settles you between his legs and holds your back to his chest.

You sit together and listen to the sounds of the night enjoying each other in the romantic moment . The owls are hooting and the crickets are chirping with the lapping of the small waves against the lake shore just outside.

You rest your head back against Gales chest as he pets your hair. He tilts his head back against the tub the excitement rising in his chest smiling as he think about how he sexed you with his gun, it’s a moment he’ll cherish forever.

~*End*~

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