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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 3 years

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Fern and Periwinkle

Rating: NSFW Length: 2095 Pairing: Trans Female Pixie x Cis Female Pixie Reader Fern and Winky’s first time doing something a little different in the bedroom. Content warnings for bondage, spanking, dirty talk, and D/s dynamics.

xxx

“Are you nervous?” she whispers, and you shiver from top to curling toe.

“A little,” you admit, keeping your eyes closed as you’ve been instructed. You can smell candied ginger on her breath, hear the rustle of silk as she moves around in her lingerie.

“Don’t be,” she laughs, and you smile, too, though you try not to disturb her brush. “Fern. I’m not finished!”

“I can’t help it!” you say, giggling anxiously. “It’s my first time doing this with someone so—”

“Different?” she offers, tone sympathetic.

“—beautiful,” you breathe, and you open your eyes in time to see emotion flicker across Periwinkle’s face.

“I thought I told you to keep them closed,” she whispers, putting aside the brush loaded with deep red pigment and pressing her cherry red lips to yours. You moan as you wreath your arms around her neck and press your knees together, anxious that she could sense your arousal as sharply as you could feel it thrumming through your veins. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Miss,” you say against her lips, sure that the colour has been smeared but unable to care as she runs her hands along the silk that touches your skin. You shiver as she embraces you in order to wind a long silk ribbon around your wings, rendering them immobile with a few expert knots. She cups your face in her warm, calloused hands when she’s done, and you’re rendered breathless by the tenderness with which she brushes her nose against yours.

“Tell me if I go too far. Use the words we talked about.”

You nod, throat bobbing as you look into Periwinkle’s ash blue eyes. You have never felt safer than when she lowers you onto the bed and ties your ankles to your thighs, every knot in the rope punctuated with a kiss to your dark, bare skin. By the time you’re tied to the bedposts, legs spread and nethers on display, you’ve gotten so wet that you can feel it through the silk of your underwear, and it’s here that Periwinkle’s fingers ghost once she sits back to inspect her handiwork.

“Look at you,” she whispers, smiling all the way up to her eyes. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen?” You feel heat creep up into your face, and you can’t help but lower your eyes—that is, until Periwinkle slaps the inside of your thigh, making you cry out and gasp. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Miss,” you stammer, face burning and skin tingling where your natural magic rushes to heal the sting.

“Good, little bird,” Periwinkle giggles, stroking the place of impact to soothe you. She takes a leather cord from her wrist and ties back her dark blonde hair, tossing the queue over her shoulder and settling between your legs. You watch as she nuzzles in along the inside of your thigh, and you can’t help but quiver and moan as she brushes your damp underwear aside and presses a long, suckling kiss to your clit. Long fingers replace her lips as she traces along your vulva, making you tremble and twitch before she pushes a finger into your depths. “You’ve been playing with yourself today,” she accuses, amusement in her eyes and the quirk of her lips.

“No!” you mew, squirming as a second finger gets added and pumped in and out of you. You jolt when Periwinkle uses her other hand to pinch your labia, just hard enough to send a bolt of sensation up your spine. “Oh, fuck. Fuck! Yes. I have. I have, Miss, I have, I’m sorry—”

“Shh, now,” Periwinkle whispers as she relents, kissing at the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Don’t be ashamed around me. Tell me what you did.”

You quiver as she uses her thumb to rub along your clit as her fingers curl inside you, moaning from deep in your throat as her callouses catch sweetly on soft, sensitive flesh. “I… I have a toy,” you confess, whimpering as Periwinkle drops soft, red kisses to every part of your labia while you speak. “I put it in me—”

“In where?” Periwinkle interrupts, adding a third finger when she purrs, “In here?”

Your eyes briefly flicker shut as you buck up into the intrusion, groaning, “Yes. Yes. I put it in my pussy. Pretended it was you.”

“Fuck, little bird,” she whispers, and you whine as though you’ve been wounded.

“Please.” You gasp when you feel teeth graze your clit, and you almost bite your tongue in your haste to babble, “Please, Miss.”

Periwinkle hums and pulls her fingers out of you, making you cheep in protest before her lips replace them. “Hm. No,” she muses, burying her face against your mound and flickering her tongue until you grind up against her and sob. You grunt with surprise and frustration when she pulls away and presses your hips firmly down against the bed, your chest heaving as you make soft, pleading noises up at your lover. “I clipped your wings for a reason, little bird,” she murmurs, licking your wetness from her lips. “I’ll be good to you if you’re good for me.”

“I’ll be good,” you mew, thighs trembling as Periwinkle grinds the head of her cock against your clit. “Please, I’ll be good, Miss, so please—oh!” Your voice comes out as a squeak when she slaps at the insides of your thighs, moaning as each strike sends sparks up your spine and tears to your eyes. When she stops, you almost lose yourself to an infinitesimal moment of lack, only to claw your way back to the present moment when she lays her hands gently over your hot, stinging skin.

“Good, little bird,” she murmurs, reaching up to wipe the tears from where they’ve spilled down your cheeks. “Stay with me. Are you with me?”

“Yes, Miss,” you burble, nodding and leaning into her touch. Periwinkle curls herself over your body so that she can kiss you deeply, and you whimper at the taste of yourself on her tongue. You force yourself not to chase her lips when she draws back, watching her beneath your lashes as she shifts to straddle your chest. You let your lips part without prompting, swirling your tongue along the glans of her cock when she guides it to your mouth and moaning at the taste of her own wetness.

“That’s my good girl,” Periwinkle croons, threading her fingers through your hair and tucking it tenderly behind your ears as she pushes the head into your mouth. “Bet I could work you open. Can you take me down your throat?”

“Yes, Miss,” you whisper when your mouth is free, only to moan again when she thrusts a little deeper against your tongue. Everything goes hazy at the edges as you sink into the warm comfort of trust, happy to be used in any way that Periwinkle pleases. Only her soft chuckling brings you back to yourself minutes later, just as she pulls out of your throat and leaves you gasping for much-needed air.

“You’re singin’,” she says around her laughter, carding her fingers through your hair and coming in for a soft kiss. “I’ve caught the sweetest little bird. Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself blush, but you’re too blissful to care, so you only nod. “Yes, Miss,” you murmur, then sigh as she kneels between your thighs and kisses all along your throat. You don’t have to ask for permission to watch because Periwinkle pulls away to watch, too, both sets of eyes locking on the point where two bodies meet and then meld. You whimper and she moans, rocking her hips slowly to get more and more of herself inside of you. It’s a stretch, but it’s not painful, and you enjoy the tingling burn of it as your magic reacts.

“Harder?” she asks, stroking along your thighs and spreading you open with her thumbs.

“Yes,” you moan, fingers curling in the ropes leading to the bedposts. You let out a squeal when she rams her cock into you until she grinds against your clit, making you choke on a gasp and whine low in your throat.

“Yes, what?” she growls, digging her thumbs into your quivering thighs.

“Yes please Miss,” you babble all in a rush, earning yourself a few sharp thrusts that make you see stars.

“How hard?”

“As you can, Miss,” you pant, biting your lip against your embarrassment before you speak again. “Break me in. Please.”

As you watch, Periwinkle’s pupils dilate like the cat who’s gotten the cream, and she grins a wicked grin before she starts to move. Each thrust is harder and more punishing than the last and you’re sure you’ll have bruises despite your magic when you feel her hips collide with the backs of your thighs, but you’ve never felt more alive than in the moments when your bodies meet. She whispers sweetness and filth to you in equal measure as you cry out and writhe beneath her, coming hard enough that your vision whites out.

Still, she keeps going. You feel your wings jerk against their bindings as your body spasms, lungs seizing as sensation rises to a fever pitch. Heat flushes through you when you feel her come inside you, and still, she keeps going. Your legs quake with a second powerful orgasm that rocks you to your core. Your wings flail, your voice goes hoarse and disappears into the air between you, and still, she keeps going.

“Siren!” you manage to cry out at last, and she immediately relents, letting you gasp brokenly for air as you collapse back against the bed. Belatedly, you realise that you’re crying, and only when you feel her brush your tears away with gentle hands.

“It’s okay,” she croons, voice breathless and shaky. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’m right here. I’m gonna untie you now. Is that okay?”

You wobble a nod, entirely lost for words.

“Okay,” she whispers back, pulling at the knots until they come loose and let your limbs fall limply against the bed. Last to be released are your wings, which decide to splay across your back and the bed as soon as Periwinkle lets them go. She cuddles up against your back as you lay against the bed on your stomach, and she nuzzles at the back of your neck as you both catch your breath.

“Wow,” you mumble after several blissful, drowsy minutes, smiling sleepily as you watch Periwinkle play with your fingers and hear her giggle against your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep yet, Future Doctor Littleblossom.”

“Oh, no?”

“Nope. Gotta pee so you’re in the clear.”

You groan a laugh and roll over just enough to accept a kiss from your partner, then smile and cuddle against the lacy silk at her chest. “Remind me to pee when I can feel my legs again.”

“I’ll give you five minutes, and you better be conscious.”

“Well, then you better keep me conscious.”

“Hm. Well… I spy with my little eye somethin’ that is brown.”

“Me.”

“No. Well, yes. But no.”

“Is it wood?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

“Alright, then. I spy with my little eye somethin’ that is hard.”

“You.”

“Not a chance,” Periwinkle laughs, throwing her head back to cackle. “Gimme ten minutes and I might be.”

“Mm. Is it wood?”

“Yes.”

“You’re bad at this.”

“I’m bad at this.”

You sigh, smiling despite yourself. “I spy with my little eye something that I love.”

“Me!” Periwinkle crows, earning herself a laugh that bursts out of you.

“Yes.”

“Alright, lightnin’ round. I spy with my little eye somethin’ that is gold.”

You frown. “You can’t see the sun.”

“That I cannot.”

“My feathers?”

“Nope.”

“Your feathers.”

“I’m lyin’ on those.”

“I’m stumped,” you confess, and you watch as Periwinkle brings your hand up to your face—a hand that bears a ring that wasn’t there before. You nearly swallow your tongue, you gasp so hard, and then you throw yourself so enthusiastically into Periwinkle’s arms that you nearly bowl her off the bed. “Winky!”

“Speakin’,” she giggles, gathering you close and kissing at your face. “Can I take that as a ‘yes’?”

“Yes!” you squeal, throwing your arms around her neck and kissing her soundly.

“You’ve still gotta pee,” she points out when her mouth is finally unoccupied again, though her eyes are alight with mirth and mischief. “Remind me again after I give you the ride of your life,” you say, and laugh along with your fiancee.

“You got it, little bird.”

#exophilia #exophlia fic #monster romance #monster girlfriend #pixie #pixie girlfriend #reader is monster #trans monster #Fern Littleblossom #Periwinkle Littleblossom #Littleblossoms #Sorrel #Putting that in his tag because they're from his 'verse #my work

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thebritishblabbermouth · 6 years

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EXO Scenarios

An Anon requested this wonderful scenario and here is part 2! Baekhyun :))

I hope you like it!

The request Presented: EXO reactions when their s/o drinks for the first time and starts speaking nonsense.

Suho and Kyungsoo

‘’Are you sure you want to go to this party hon? I mean, we can always tell the guys we’re bailing, they won’t mind,’’ said my boyfriend, worry etched onto his forehead. Byun Baekhyun, quite possibly the cheekiest human I had ever met, was also the most caring soul that had ever graced the planet. Always on his toes about my health, the health of his team mates and was probably largely concerned about the small stray puppy that often wandered through our street.

‘’I am just a little tired Baek. Its fine! Nothing a lack of scenery won’t change.’’ I replied, picking up my eyeliner.

Walking over to the dresser, he placed his beautiful hands on my shoulders in an attempt to massage them. ‘’A little tired? You’ve been working so much I am worried you’ll fall ill.’’

His hands were literal magic and if he hadn’t stopped with his antics I would’ve fallen asleep on the dresser, make up in hand. ‘’I am not going to fall ill Baek. Now, let me do my eyeliner so I can do yours.’’

‘’Alright, just stay close tonight hmm?’’ he said, bending down to peck my cheeks. ‘’How about I pick your outfit for you? Just to make things easier?’’ he spoke, head buried into the closet.

‘’Okay Baekkie…let’s just go with the black crop top and jeans yeah? The ones you bought from Hong Kong?’’ I questioned, finishing up with the wing on my eye.

‘’Oh no…definitely not. No crop top for you, it’s freezing outside. And these mom jeans are fine, no need for the ones that make your bum pop. It won’t be just us at the club, I can’t take care of you and keep everyone away at the same time.’’ He mumbled into the cabinet, rummaging for clothes.

I sighed, putting down the eyeliner. ‘’Its boiling hot outside Baek, and you’re more of a mom than the mom jeans could ever be.’’

‘’Did you say something love?’’ He questioned, head popping out of the closet, the boxy smile Id fallen in love with gracing his features.

‘’I am done with my liner, come here so I can do yours.’’ I said, changing the topic. He climbed out of our unnaturally large walk in closet and laid my clothes onto the bed. The black crop top and jeans from Hong Kong sprawled across the white linen. I raised my eyebrow in question as he sat cross-legged onto the floor, head leaned back onto my lap.

‘’I was only joking beautiful, you can wear what you want. Besides, people will stare at you even if you walk out in PJs.’’ He said, closing his eyes.

Taking the make up into my hand, I took to lining his closed lids, just a thin streak defining his already beautiful orbs.

It was hard enough not to bop his nose with my own at the comment but his gorgeous eyes had me enthralled once again. ‘’You’re beautiful.’’

‘’Not as beautiful as you.’’ he replied, placing his lips onto mine in confirmation.

Within 30 minutes, we were hoping into a cab, heading over to club 134340 in order to meet the rest of EXO. It was a simple, celebratory gathering for the completion of yet another eccentric album.

‘’Baekhyun! Jia!’’ screamed a voice that seemed to be louder than the bass at the club.

It didn’t take long for the giant to walk over to us and pleasantries were exchanged as engulfing hugs and affectionate head rubs. ‘’Where’s everyone else?’’ I asked, raising my voice through the music.

Chanyeol pointed over to the awfully crowded booth at the back of the room and it didn’t take long to notice the 7 waving hands. ‘’They’re sitting over there!’’

‘’Let’s go.’’ said Baek, ushering me through the crowd, his hand on the small of my back.

‘’Noona! You’re here! We’ve missed you!’’ screamed Sehun as his long arms smothered me completely. The makane was as big a softie as anyone and would easily take a liking to anyone who bought him food or even paid attention to his daily rambles. Sehun especially liked that I could do both things at the same time.

‘’I’ve missed you too Sehunnie.’’ I said, rising onto my tiptoes to ruffle his hair before taking a seat next to Baekhyun.

It didn’t take long to be completely immersed into the conversation between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, the argument over movie snacks was both pointless yet amusing. Only when I felt a nudge on my shoulder did I realise Minseok had been sitting on my left the entire time. ‘’Would you like a drink Jia?’’

‘’Aah…I don’t really drink Minseok-ssi.’’ I replied, eyes focussed on the way he made his own beverage, mixing drinks of multiple colours to create his preferred concoction. I watched him make his cocktail and squirmed in my seat, suddenly feeling the heat of the club and the loud music seep through my skin. I could see Jongin and Sehun dance like children in the middle of the club, a confused yet smiling Yixing trying to keep them tame. It wasn’t like I didn’t like spending time with my boyfriend’s bandmates. I loved each of them to bits, but my nerves and fatigue kept me from enjoying the moment.

‘’Here, drink this. It doesn’t have a lot of alcohol, just enough to calm you down. You’ll love it, trust me.’’ Said Xiumin, handing me a glass full of a pale blue liquid.

‘’Thank you, Xiumin.’’ I replied, taking the Tumblr into my hands and sipping from the straw. His eyes were trained on mine, waiting for me to deliver a message with regards to its taste. ‘’It’s fantastic!’’ I continued, surprised at the intermittent tingle it left on my tongue. I watched his eyes soften at my comment and continued to sip from my glass eagerly.

‘’Whatcha drinking babe?’’ said Baekhyun taking the straw from my lips in order to taste the beverage. He frowned upon recognising the alcohol.

‘’You don’t drink Jia. Who gave you this?’’ he asked, the creases on his forehead visible even in the dim light of the club.

‘’Minseok Oppa! He said it doesn’t have a lot of alcohol, just enough to calm my nerves.’’ I replied, reassuring him about the contents of the drink. He nodded at my statement and leaned down to press his lips into my hair.

It didn’t take long for the drink to have its effect on me, the two glasses Minseok had prepared having their primary effect on my bladder.

‘’I need to go to the washroom Baek.’’ I said, whispering into his ear so that he could let me go. His arm had been glued to my waist throughout the duration of the evening.

‘’Come back soon then…it’s freezing here.’’ He answered, winking up at me.

I walked across the dance floor and made my way to over to the bathrooms, ready to join the exceedingly long queue of women ready to vomit, fix their make up or simply have a break from all the music.

I hadn’t realised what had happened after I joined the line, especially after the moment I had decided to lean my head across the smooth walls of the club. However I woke up on a bed, inside a room I recognised immediately to be my own. Panicking, I jolted and attempted to sit up, but strong arms pushed me onto the sheets in an attempt to settle me down.

Baekhyun’s eyes looked down into mine and I calmed instantly.

‘’You fell asleep in the queue for the loo! Honestly…I thought you’d be a dramatic drunk! I figured you’d dance on the tables and strip off your clothes!’’ he said, whispering loudly. The pout on his face as playful as ever.

‘’I fell asleep!’’ I asked, bewildered.

Just then a looming figure stood up, stretching its limbs as it did. The action allowed me to pay attention to the floor, more importantly to the 7 members curled up and snoring. ‘’Yeah…you did. And when we told you to wake up so we could take you home, you started giving us orders! To finish your work! You even told me to do the laundry!’’ said Chanyeol, yawning.

‘’Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to!’’ I said, scrambling out of the bed in an attempt to properly convey my apology.

‘’Don’t be! You were so tired. We just had to help you out! Jongin and Sehun scrubbed the dishes, Minseok and Chen hoovered, Baek and Chanyeol did laundry while Yixing, Soo and I tided everything up.’’ Said Junmyeon groggily.

Even though the respected leader smiled through his tired eyes, my face saw white. How had I possibly managed to ask them to clean my house! I was only two drinks down! The god of alcohol if any, was not on my side.

Baekhyun sensed my uneasiness and pecked my temple, ‘’Relax beautiful, you always do so much for us! This was the least we could do.’’

‘’Yeah. Noona is the best!’’ said Jongin, snuggling himself further into Kyungsoo.

‘’If you’re really guilty Jia. Let us sleep the night here!’’ Said a grinning Jongdae.

‘’Definitely!’’ I screamed, running over to the cupboard in order to take out the required bedding, while my boyfriend giggled with his bandmates.

‘’Sleepovers are the best!’’ murmured Sehun, closing his eyes as I covered his athletic build with my floral duvet.

‘’They sure are! Hopefully she doesn’t say anything about the broken plates in her trash can.’’ Said Yixing, fixing his pillow.

‘’LAY!’’ they all screamed, as I dropped the duvets and ran to the kitchen. Baekhyun, a laughing mess, trailing behind me.

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deathandhumanresources · 3 years

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Chapter 1 - Research and Development

I remember having wings.

Back then, I spent a lot more time working with Father. Heck, back in those days, it seemed like Father tried to spare time for nearly anyone who asked for it. That was when we were all still working on “The Plan.” Father was so excited for “The Plan” and, since we were all a part of Father and a part of “The Plan,” we were excited alongside him. We all had our purpose, assigned and appropriated before the beginning of time, and we flitted about with a jovial motivation that only the most wonderful of work environments could provide. This was, of course, before the concept of dissent and rebellion was established. But I’ll get to that...

In the beginning, Father relied on His two hosts of spirits to work out His design for “The Plan:”

The Djinn, born of Father’s fire.

And the Angels, born of Father’s light.

The Djinn dug at the inner workings of the cosmos with their powerful flame, carving a vast and complicated universe from Father’s labyrinthine blueprints. As Father devised new chemical reactions and new forms of elemental fusion, the Djinn would test these experiments in the vast emptiness of space. They were beings of will and might, spending days upon days composing the largest structures and the smallest molecules with an impossible patience. When something didn’t work- when what was supposed to be a dense crystal instead shattered upon the lightest touch, or when the molecular compound for water would instead create marshmallows- they would bring their findings to Father. He would tweak His notes and send the Djinn back out into the field, where they would attempt his vision again. Though Father regarded them harshly, the Djinn worked their hardest to shape His universe.

Meanwhile, the Angels were tasked with pondering the finer eccentricities of “physical law” and devising a world that did not require the workarounds that their magic had otherwise facilitated. They were philosophical and energetic beings, worried with the “why” more than the “how.” Angels were mostly good at pontificating and soapboxing, and their blustering arguments over ideas like “age” and “love” lead to decisions that made very little sense at all. Angels were bureaucrats before they had invented bureaucrats. More often than not, Father would step in on their heated debates to explain how He wanted His ideas to be expressed on a universal level. As the crowds dispersed, one could always hear the skulking grumblings of one Angel or another, expressing with no self awareness that “What Father just said was what I was trying to get at all along!”

I am technically an Angel, though I’ve always been a bit different from my brothers and sisters.

When I had approached Father and asked how He wanted me to help, His reply was brief and cryptic:

“We are in the creation stage of development. Your part comes a little while later.”

He had barely regarded me with a sideways glance. His nose was buried in His notes and He was pulled in every direction by some other, more assertive spirit. I shied away at His presumption and began to sulk towards a corner to wait for my turn in the universe. My pathetic display must have caught Father’s attention as He suddenly set His gaze upon me.

“Little Azreal,” Father cooed, “Your task in all of this is of the utmost importance. As all things will come to be, so they must end. Once I find out exactly how they are supposed to end, I shall call on you. Until then...” He slowly extended an enormous closed fist towards me until I was in reach. He uncurled His fingers and produced a wisp of cloud that contorted into the form of a large book. “I’d like for you to give every living thing that shall come to be a name.”

“A name?” I repeated

“Yes, a designation. Give every living plant and creature that we design a name and write it in the pages of this book. I need an inventory and I need it to be clear and concise.”

I took the tome from Father’s gigantic palm. I was about to ask how I was to write the name of every living creature if I didn’t even know what the word "write" meant, when my head was instantaneously filled with the gift of all languages. Father smiled at my bewildered realization and offered His other massive hand towards me. He pinched the air with His thumb and forefinger and produced a writing quill made from a feather of brilliant purple and gold (I would later learn that this feather came from one of Father’s rejected designs.) I took the pen and my muscles twitched with the immediate knowledge of perfect penmanship.

Father was once so generous.

“What happens when I’m done writing the name of every living creature that comes to be?” I asked, my voice dry.

“By that time, there will be another book.” Father explained as His look turned from kind to pensive. “When you are done writing all the names in the first, you will write them again in the second. When you are done writing all of the names down in the second book, there will be no need for either.”

Before I had time to ask for some clarification, a fat Cherubim had impatiently approached. It began to pester Father about the nature of odor or some other pedantic detail of “The Plan.” I did my best to recapture Father’s attention but, back then, I was such a tiny Angel and so my efforts were in vain. Father turned and moved to His next task. He was so busy back then. Instead of pressing further, I opened my new book and looked within. The pages were all blank (of course they were, it was the first book ever created.) I was filled with an overwhelming sense of purpose and I sat to consider the first living creature that I was supposed to name.

I sat in my spot for a long time and it felt as though my head was filled with that sense of purpose and not much else. I became frustrated and considered that I was a failure to Father’s plan, that perhaps He would consider my lack of progress and unmake me. I slammed the book closed. As I let my worry get the better of me, my thoughts were interrupted by the bickering of two angels walking by. I could see that one was holding a malleable, cylindrical something that writhed and slithered in her hands. She held it away from the second Angel who grabbed at it greedily. When the second Angel decided he couldn’t grab the something from the first, his face grew red with fluster and he cursed.

“Harut, you have created a horrid thing and Father will ridicule us for your lack of reason!”

“I think it’s cute, Marut.” the first Angel stuck out her tongue. “And I believe it will be a symbol of great importance when ‘The Plan’ is ready.”

“We already have something like this in the designs! And unlike your foolish creation, it has legs!”

“This one doesn’t need legs!”

“A land creature that travels without legs?” Marut hissed, “Have you completely ignored the doctrine?”

“I think Father will like it.”

“Let me have it so I can destroy it and save us the embarrassment!”

“No!”

The Angels walked passed, the second pawing furiously at the first. They did not seem to notice me at all, though the thing on Harut’s arm had crawled atop her shoulder and looked at me with wonder. As our eyes met, it popped a little forked tongue in my direction. Harut was right, it was cute.

Without any warning, a thought entered my head and was doing its best to escape through my mouth. The image of the wriggly creature had seemed to turn itself into newly-formed letters in my imagination. Before I knew what I was doing, I spoke.

“Snek.” I said to no one in particular.

“Snek.” I said again. The word felt good in my mouth. My fingertips that held the golden quill tingled as I repeated the word over and over.

I once again opened up my book and I began to write.

My knack for nomenclature developed at an even keel alongside Father’s universe. News of my purpose spread throughout the Angelarium. Before long, a line of heavenly spirits had collected in front of me. Each Angel had with them a prototype of their creation for me to evaluate. Some Angels held their ideas in the palms of their hands while others led their monstrous musings by lengths of solid chain. I had not told these gatherers to organize in any fashion. They had decided by their own desire to form a perfunctory queue and wait patiently for my attention. Angels were always so orderly.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” a Seraphim shouted at me as it approached from its place in the queue. It outstretched one of its six crimson wings and, nestled gingerly in its plumage, there sat an amorphous mass. The blob looked like if a water droplet was having a rather depressing day. At its base, a cluster of hair-like appendages flopped with morose nonchalance.

“Er,” I regarded the hopeful-looking Seraphim with skepticism, “This is supposed to be an animal?”

“INDEED! I’VE BEEN WORKING ALL DAY ON IT!” The spirit opened its mouth and a blue flame erupted in tandem with its enthusiastic shout.

The Seraph belonged to Father’s highest choir of Angels and were, by design, never subtle.

“PRECAMBRIAN!” It continued emphatically, “ONE OF THE FIRST MULTICELLULAR ANIMALS! A BIG DEAL, RIGHT HERE! IT IS SUPPOSED TO MAINTAIN ITS FORM THROUGHOUT THE AGES WITHOUT MANY CHANGES TO ITS INITIAL DESIGN!” It made sure to brag this detail to the line of Angels behind it.

“You don’t say?” I wondered aloud as I once again considered the absolute brainlessness of the supposed “creature.” Leave it to the Seraphim to only work in abstracts.

“I DO SAY!” It replied. “I JUST SAID IT A MOMENT AGO! WOULD YOU LIKE TO HOLD IT?”

Ignoring my protest, the Seraphim reached its wing towards me and dropped the living snot puddle into my reluctant hands. The thing was cold and without physical reason. I did my best to feign a look to match the Seraphim’s obvious excitement. I was only made uncomfortable by the creature’s viscous form for a moment before I noticed a clamour near the end of the Angelic queue.

It appeared as though one of the Angels near the end had broken rank and was approaching, much to the chagrin of the other line-goers. Each Angel seemed to speak up as it saw it was being bypassed. As soon as it took a better notice of the offender in question, it huddled back to its place in line without a further peep. The figure moved with authoritative diligence. As it moved closer to the front of the queue, I could see it wore the shimmering, night-black robes of the Archangel. A nervous spike shot through my spine when I realized just who was approaching.

“WELL!?” The Seraphim once again pulled my attention, “WHAT DO YOU SAY!? I BELIEVE THIS BEING INVOKES A POWERFUL NAME INDEED!”

“Do you think it could wait?” I asked with a begging smile, “Perhaps you would like more time to, er, muse on this one while I sit back and think of the perfect name for this little guy.” I dropped the heap of wet cells back into the Seraphim’s cupping wing tip.

“THE DESIGN IS QUITE COMPLETE!” The Seraphim coddled its blob close. “APPROVED BY FATHER! ALL IT NEEDS IS A NAME!”

I looked past my guest’s shoulder at the queue behind. The Archangel was getting ever closer and I could see in his face that he meant business. I cursed under my breath and realized I had to hasten my meeting to a close.

“Approved by Father, you say?” I turned back towards the eager Seraphim, “In that case, the name for this poor creature has popped into my head as clear as day!” I held my fingertips to my temple and released a grunt of faux-exertion. The display seemed to work as the Seraphim observed with a look of pure wonder. “From henceforth, this being shall be known as a... Jellyfish!”

The Seraphim furrowed its shining gold brow and wrinkled its nose as if it had tasted something fermented and sour.

“JELLYFISH!? WHAT IN HEAVEN IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!? WHAT IS JELLY!?”

I shrugged dismissively. “I dunno. I don’t make the words, I just use them. My will and my words are the same as Father’s. This name is His through me. Anyway, let’s move along. Lots of creatures to name and we can’t take all creation to name them, can we?” I attempted to shoo the stubborn Angel before shouting behind him, “Next in line please!”

“NOW WAIT!” The Seraphim protested, “SURELY YOU CAN COME UP WITH SOMETHING BETTER THAN JELLYFISH. IT IS NOT EVEN A FISH!”

“They can’t all be winners, pal.” At this point, I was hefting my entire weight against the persistent Seraphim but the spirit was a mass of eyeballs and feathers twice my size and it pushed adamantly back.

“I SHALL NOT LEAVE UNTIL YOU HAVE GIVEN MY DESIGN A NAME WORTHY OF FATHER’S HONOR!”

“Qaspiel,” a voice emerged behind the Seraphim that was as deep and calm as it was fearful and commanding. “I hate to interrupt but I must have a discussion with the little Azrael.”

Qaspiel the Seraphim’s face hunkered into a look of statuesque rage. Its flaming eyes tore from my gaze and its glittering cheeks blushed an angry heat. It craned its neck and spat towards the source of the offending voice.

“NOW SEE HERE! IT IS MY TURN WITH HE WHO GIVES NAMES AND I-” Before it could even conceptualize another tempered word, its stony face dropped into a mask of intense dismay and regret. Its lips sputtered and its throat gurgled several primitive groans before a single word allowed itself to escape.

"LUCIFER!” it finally said.

I feel as though I don’t need to explain who Lucifer is to you, humble reader. Even a mythologically-inept person could probably recognize the Angel who would eventually become the very first supervillain. That being said, I think it’s important to understand who Lucifer was pre-Fall From Grace. At the very least, the tale will help you understand my story...

Lucifer was Father’s first Angel and, as far as any of us could tell, Father’s first creation whatsoever. He was a being of immaculate light that shone in a brilliant display of every color simultaneously. He was the strongest and most powerful Angel ever created and his mold was used to build every Angel after him. He held Father’s secrets and his magic in his very core and, some say, he was nearly as powerful as Father himself.

Lucifer stood at Father’s side as Chief Angel and guardian of the Heavens. Long before creation was more than a dreamy idea, Lucifer was granted a legion of Angels to train and command in the art of war. Back then, no one had the forethought to ask why Heaven needed to prepare for war. Back then, none of us were advanced enough to ask Father such questions. For a time, Lucifer was least likely to question Father’s methods. None of us were prepared to learn that Lucifer was training the army to one day fight him.

It was said that Father loved Lucifer more than any of His other creations and even more than “The Plan.” We other Angels were never jealous. It was unbecoming of our upbringing to feel such horrid emotions towards each other. Instead, we revered our Chief Angel with the same love and admiration that our Father felt. Lucifer loved Father as well, though he did not revere his fellow Angels in the same manner. Lucifer was proud of his love and proud of his standing in Heaven. Though he wouldn’t admit it at the time, he was most proud of how the others would fear him.

If I were to describe Lucifer in one word, it would be “pragmatic.” The Archangel had little time for dilly-dallying. He believed every moment had a purpose and any moment without purpose was a moment wasted. He regarded “The Plan” as if it were his own and, rumor had it, he sometimes spoke as if it was.

“Azrael, come walk with me.” Lucifer commanded with no hint of mercy in his voice. I looked past the Chief Angel, expecting to see frustration and dissent amongst the waiting queue. All of the Angels in line regarded Lucifer with the same look of intimidation that I felt on my own face. An Archangel visiting the lower Angelarium was a big deal. The Archangel visiting the lower Angelarium meant there was trouble.

“Er, yes sir.” I replied with reluctance. “Of course, sir.” I gave an apologetic shrug to the queue, the eyes of each waiting Angel followed me with annoyance behind fear. Lucifer ignored the Angels and clasped his giant hand around my shoulder.

“And bring your book.” He bellowed.

We travelled past the gates of the major Angelarium out into the abstract Heavens. The roads of radiant silver transitioned into a soft and grassy cloud under our feet. The stars shone so much brighter out beyond our workways; the Djinn had done such lovely work on them. I ran to keep up with Lucifer’s haste. The gait of his step doubled mine. He had taken my book, with no protest from me, and he was pensively scanning the pages as he walked. He said nothing and I was too afraid to speak either. We reached a peak of cloud that looked into the dark. The black of absent space was dotted with massive expanding galaxies of different dazzling colors. I looked with wonder at Father’s creations while Lucifer flipped nonchalantly through my book. After a moment, he closed it with a snap.

“This is all very good work, Azrael.” He finally said.

“Thank you sir!” I responded with an air of officiance in my throat. I was not one of Lucifer’s soldiers but I guessed it was in my best interest to act as if I was.

“You may relax, little Angel,” his response was almost jovial, “I did not bring you here to exact Father’s judgment.” Such a statement should have put me at ease but I could not shake my tension.

“You didn’t?”

“No. I’ve only come to audit your progress. You’ve become quite the popular being, haven’t you?” As Lucifer said this, I felt a heat rise from my chest into my face.

“I s-suppose.” I stumbled. “The Angels find me and I give them what they require.”

“Compliance,” Lucifer almost interrupted, “is an admirable quality. You’ve done well in your book. Your names for Heaven’s designs are apt. Tell me, have you considered why we must provide a name for every living thing?”

I regarded the question and did not have an answer for Lucifer. My silence prompted him to continue.

“Father has instilled us with the means to build His Creation. As the Djinn create the constructs of this plan, the Angels create the concepts. It is not enough for a creation to exist. The explanation for why it exists is essential in it existing at all. Do you agree?” He only gave me a moment to respond. I said nothing. He began again.

“Furthermore, to explain a creation in specificity is to award it uniqueness. Therefore, a concept and its construct are not truly complete until it has a name to make it unique. Father’s plan is contingent on the uniqueness of each of his creations.”

Though I was confused, Lucifer’s points made sense and it almost felt like Father Himself was explaining to me.

“Once a being has been created,” Lucifer started again, “do you think it should exist forever?”

It took a moment for me to realize that the Archangel expected an earnest answer to his question. He stared at me while I found the words.

“I-” I mumbled, “I always assumed we were to devise and build Father’s plan to be admired forever.”

To this, Lucifer’s great wings flexed and swayed with the Archangel’s pensive stance. His deep black feathers shimmered in the radiance from above that was Father’s light. His mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke again.

“You are not wrong, Azrael.” He said with a hollow tone that struck me with a hidden sadness. “Each element of Father’s plan will be admired forever. Though, in order for each creation to be admired to its fullest, it must not only be created but it must be subjected to change and, ultimately, it must be destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” I gulped. I had never heard the word before.

“Yes.” He rejoined, “Destroyed. It must reach a state of change so intense that it does not subsist. Thus, each creation will be appreciated in its fullest, even and especially when it no longer exists. Do you understand?”

I had not understood the moment Lucifer had asked the question. But as I let the thought permeate in my mind, the idea became as clear as all of creation itself. As things must be created, they must too be destroyed to be whole.

“Yes.” I finally said. “I understand.”

“There is a burden...” Lucifer spoke as he peered into the vastness of the space beyond. I could almost hear a choke in his throat. “...to the facilitation of this process. This burden lies in your book. As you give each creation a name, and write that name into your pages, you acknowledge its existence and thus further acknowledge that it will one day be destroyed. Do you understand this as well?”

“Yes.” I did not hesitate this time.

The sound of heaving wings echoed behind us in the cloudy bluff. I looked over my shoulder to see an Archangel in brilliant golden armor approach from a foreign angle in space. His wings were like painted flame, vibrant reds and yellows speckled the feathers. His skin was the color of thunderclouds, just like Lucifer’s. He approached with urgency and landed behind us with an immediate march towards the Chief Angel.

“Aamon.” Lucifer regarded the soldier without turning its way.

“Sir.” Aamon responded, his approach unflinching. “I am sorry to interrupt-”

“And yet you persist.” Lucifer cut the excuse short. He turned and his shock-blue eyes pierced the intruding Angel in a way that stopped him in his tracks.

“It’s the Djinn.” Aamon insisted with a quivering in his voice that suggested he would much rather be anywhere else. “They’re setting off neutron stars in the forty-fourth quadrant. They’re collapsing them just to see what happens.”

“Again!?” Lucifer hissed and the whole heavenly valley quaked. His stance turned from one of preparation to one of diligence. He curled his left hand into a fist and flexed every muscle up through his arm. A muted light grew from his grasp into a form of horrible, radiant flame. In a matter of moments, he materialized a blade of pure fire and clutched it adamantly. Though I did not yet understand the purpose for such a sword, it’s image filled me with terror.

“Azrael,” Lucifer’s gaze turned toward me. “We will continue this conversation later. Excellent work so far.” He handed my book back to me before crouching into a launching posture. His wings lurched and propelled him into the sky. A surge of wind created a vacuum underneath the departing Archangel that briefly eliminated all sound around us before erupting in a sickening pop. There was a flash, and he was gone. Aamon stood, astonished, before ascending himself and following close behind. I sat upon the cloudy cliff, alone, and further considered my purpose.

I must clarify that I cannot fully and accurately explain these events to you, the reader. Your human brain currently lacks the capacity to process the reality that Angels like myself experience. Thus, I am prone to use what you humans call “Metaphor” to describe in terms that you may understand. It may be easier for you if I depict a simple act of reality manipulation as magic or miracle instead of trying to explain the exact scientific process an Angel uses to bend the fabric of space and time. Your miracles are our mundane tasks, much like your eons are our days.

So please understand when I say I spent all day contemplating what it meant to keep a record of every living thing’s eventual unbeing.

Father’s Heaven and His creations thus far had been devised under the pretense of permanence. From what we knew, Father had been around forever and even before there was a beginning. As we understood, we were permanent as well. Each Angel (and presumably each Djinn) was brought into being by Father, given a name, and assigned a purpose towards enacting “The Plan.” None of us ever asked what “The Plan” was or why it was so important. Instead, we went to work. We built the structure of the universe from the atom up. We concocted the idea of life, intelligence, and sentience to create beings that would propagate within the confines of “The Plan.” Father could and would unmake certain aspects of "The Plan" if they didn't fit or were made in error. However, none of us considered that all of the things that we made had the potential to be destroyed on purpose.

I watched from the cloudy cliff face as a star trillions of miles from my little spot in Heaven vibrated against the dark backdrop of the universe. The yellow sparkle dipped and flashed into shades of dramatic purples and reds as the intensity of its light ebbed into varying degrees of brilliance. It looked as though the little light extinguished before blooming into a detonation of a new color I had yet to see. For a moment,the exploded star resembled a concept devised by one of our top Angels. She had called the idea a “Flower” and it would be an important symbol once “The Plan” was enacted. As soon as the bloom of the star reached its dramatic peak, shooting detritus and innumerable amounts of dissipating energy into the vacuous space, the light from the event faded until only blackness remained. It was almost as if the star had never been there in the first place.

A thought bloomed in my mind, much like the star and much like a flower:

Some things must be unmade to make more things, whether they be stars or sneks or jellyfish. “The Plan” wasn’t about the permanence of creation, but the further creation yielded by change. In that way, the unbeing of something was as beautiful and significant as its being in the first place.

I felt cold in my little spot and I realized how alone I was outside the major Heavens. I reached behind my back and pulled my oversized black wings closer to my body. Father had formed me a bit smaller than many of the other Angels but, for some reason, He designed my wingspan as big and boisterous and black as vast space. I curled those wings around my body until the tips touched at the top of my head. I felt warmer and more comfortable. I began my walk back towards the Angelarium.

#death #metaphysical #fantasy #comedy #withcraft #writing #books #stories #mag #magic #angels #demons #djinn

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malecsecretsanta · 6 years

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Merry Christmas, @toreadthestars!

So I hope this bit of Malec silliness hits the spot...or my version of a coffee shop AU - as I’m a sucker for drunk Alec there’s a teensy weany bit of that too....

Read on AO3

*****

Sometimes Coffee Is The Only Solution

The first thing Alec noticed when he woke up was that, somehow, he’d managed to not draw his curtains properly before crashing out last night and the bright morning light shining into his eyes was borderline painful.

With a grunt of discomfort he rolled on his side, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the way his stomach seemed to be doing somersaults. Blearily he looked around the room and noticed the glass of water and painkillers and thanked the angel that ‘drunk him’ seemed to have at least some common sense.

Carefully sitting up, he grabbed the glass and swallowed the pills before gingerly stepping out of bed to pull the curtains shut before crawling back under the sheets.

Ordinarily Alec wasn't much of a drinker, and lying in bed waiting for the painkillers to work their magic, he was starting to remember exactly why. The worst part was he really should've known better, but after weeks of excuses, he’d finally given in and accepted his siblings invite to come out with them.

Beyond that, things got a little fuzzy. He remembered arriving at the bar and meeting up with Clary and Simon and everything was pretty much ok until, about an hour in, Jace had suggested shots. In his defence, he may well have over indulged, as evenings spent with Izzy and Simon and Clary and Jace, two couples that were sickeningly loved up, really only served to remind him of the one thing he really wanted to forget, the nonexistent state of his own love life. He’d only gone because Izzy had promised that her hot friend, a guy called Magnus, was coming along too, but as far as he could remember he’d been a no show, so really, the only solution was to drown his sorrows.

All in all the night had been a complete disaster and, quite frankly, Alec was glad he didn’t remember much of it.

……..

Having forced himself into the shower, Alec began to feel somewhat more human, although he was desperately in need of coffee. Throwing on some clothes he trudged out to the kitchen hoping that it was still too early for his siblings to be awake, knowing full well the pleasure they’d take in tormenting him for his drunken antics.

“Shit..” Alec searched through the cupboards frantically only to find an empty pack of coffee and nothing else. Typically, Jace had forgotten to restock.

“Oh my god, it lives..” Spinning round Alec saw Izzy perched at the breakfast bar looking remarkably chipper, considering last night. “Didn’t think you’d surface for hours. No offence mi hermano, but you were wasted last night.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Alec grumbled, contemplating making himself a tea but deciding that the crusty old container didn't exactly fill him with confidence.

“So...do you remember anything from last night?” Izzy teased, as Alec continued to desperately scramble through the cupboards in the vain hope that it was just his killer hangover that was stopping him finding some coffee.

“Don’t, just don’t.” Alec glared over his shoulder, getting increasingly frustrated with the situation.

“Oh come on Alec, it was funny..I mean, you were on top form.” Izzy laughed and the sound went through him like a knife.

“I literally couldn't care less right now. All I want is a drink and Jace forgot to get any goddamn coffee, as per usual..” Alec snapped.

“Suit yourself, but let me tell you, it’s a great story.” Izzy seemed totally nonplussed by Alec’s mood.

“Whatever. I’m going out..” Alec pushed past her, marching to the hallway to grab his coat and boots. Feeling a little guilty for taking his mood out on his sister, he paused for a second and turned to look at her. “You want anything..?”

“You going to Java Jones?”

Alec grunted in reply.

“Then get me a mocha and double choc muffin.” Izzy grinned, reaching for her phone and beginning to tap away.

With a final huff of indignation, Alec stalked to the front door and let himself out.

……..

Alec wasn't sure if it was the painkillers or the fresh air on the walk to Java Jones but as he entered the doorway, he almost felt human.

The coffee shop was fairly empty this time on a Sunday morning so he decided that enjpying his drink there was a much more preferable option than going home just yet. Especially as home, he was pretty sure, meant a morning of inevitable teasing by his sister.

Reaching the front of the queue, Alec was relieved to see his friend Maia on duty.

“Hey Alec, wow, you look like shit. Bad night or a really, really good one?” Maia teased.

“Bad, really bad… and no, I don’t want to talk about it..” Alec held his finger up, shaking his head slightly in defeat. Thankfully it didn't hurt as much as it did this morning or he’d have seriously regretted the gesture.

“Ah c’mon, I’m stuck here all morning, I need gossip to keep me going.” Maia pouted briefly before starting on Alec’s coffee, knowing without asking what he’d want.

“All I’m gonna say is I’m never ever letting Izzy talk me into a night out again..” Alec grabbed his drink from the counter as soon as Maia put in down, warming his hands on the cup.

“That bad..” Maia raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, apparently some friend from yoga class was supposed to turn up but I apparently even get stood up by blind dates.” Alec grumbled before cautiously sipping at his coffee which was still really hot.

“Oh Alec..”

“Yeah, and trust me, an evening spent watching the four of them swooning over each other is not as much as fun as you’d think.” Maia began to laugh again as he spoke and Alec couldn't help but smile. “Seriously, alcohol was the only option..”

“Damn, I wish I’d been there..”

“No you don't.”

“No, I don't..”

Behind him the door chimed signalling another customer arriving and making his excuses, Alec grabbed his coffee and shuffled off to a corner booth.

………...

Alec drained the rest of his coffee and sat staring at the empty cup for far longer than was really appropriate, tossing up whether to go for a refill or return home and face the music. He had the distinct feeling Izzy knew something he didn’t and he dreaded what that could be.

“You look like you could do with this.” The man’s voice sounded strangely familiar and yet Alec was sure he’d never heard it before, but what really grabbed his attention was the ring-clad hand that slid the cup towards him. Suddenly his mind flashed back to the previous night.

“Wow, you’re hands are so pretty.” Alec gasped, grabbing the man’s hand and holding it up to look at it more closely. “Look Izzy, they’re all twinkly..”

Alec fought down the feeling of nausea in his stomach.

“I take it you’re suffering a bit this morning.” The man laughed and instantly another memory resurfaced.

“By the angel, your laugh, it’s like music.” Alec gazed with adoration into the face of possibly the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. “How are you sooooo beautiful? Are you even real, ‘cos if this is a dream, best dream ever!!!’

“You mind if I join you? If you’d rather be alone I’ll understand of course.” Alec nodded his head, not daring to look up just yet because the sound of that silky smooth voice was bringing back a wealth of memories each of which were excruciatingly embarrassing.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he took a deep breath and using every ounce of courage he had, forced himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Magnus…” The name came back to him instantly as soon as he saw the man’s face, flawless tawny skin and the deepest brown eyes accentuated by dark kohl.

“Oh, you do remember me then? That’s good to know.” Magnus’ eyes danced with mischief and Alec groaned, his head in his hands as another memory came flashing back.

Alec reached forward and touched the man’s bicep, holding on a little more firmly than was appropriate as he swayed from side to side.

“You’re really, really real. Are you sure you’re not an angel because those arms, that face… I mean, wow, no human could look that good….” Alec slurred, not letting go of Magnus's arm as he turned to his sister and leant on her heavily. “Izzy someone sent me a literal angel…”

Izzy chuckled before turning to speak to Magnus.

“Magnus, I’m sorry about my brother. I promise he’s not normally like this ….”

“Magnus …. your name’s Magnus…. even your name is pretty….” Alec blabbered on obliviously.

“I promise you, it’s fine. I’ve doubtless been in worse states myself and I was ridiculously late so…” Magnus laughed.

“Oh god…” Alec muttered into his hands before peeking out between his fingers to see Magnus trying to hold back his laughter. “Please tell me this is all some horrible nightmare and I didn’t make a total fool of myself last night. I’m so embarrassed .”

“Oh Alexander, there’s honestly nothing to be embarrassed about. I actually think you’re a rather adorable drunk..” Magnus winked and Alec felt himself flush. “Anyway, shall we start again? Hello, I’m Magnus, Izzy’s friend from yoga class.”

Magnus smiled as he extended a hand.

“Hi.” Alec smiled shyly before shaking his hand, trying desperately to ignore the tingles that ran up his arm from Magnus touch. “Alec. Thanks for the coffee by the way, I’m not normally much of a drinker so…”

“So I take it you don’t remember a great deal…” Magnus smiled.

“Um yeah..” Alec shifted uncomfortably in his seat as another memory resurfaced.

“C’mon you. Let's get you in a cab.” Izzy grabbed his arm and began manhandling him towards the exit with remarkable strength for someone so little.

Alec tried his best to resist reaching back to Magnus imploringly.

“No…..don't make me leave the angel man...please let me worship him…”

Izzy was having none of it and dragged him away, his last glimpse of a smiling Magnus shaking his head in amusement before being bundled outside.

Magnus looked at him carefully, eyes slightly narrowed and the corners of his mouth quirking as if he was trying to suppress a smile.

“Alexander Lightwood, why do I get the feeling you’re possibly being a little economical with the truth here?” Magnus waved a finger in admonishment. “I think you remember more than you’d like to admit.”

Alec blushed bright crimson as he had to fight the urge to facepalm.

“Okay, okay..I do remember bits and pieces, but honestly I don't know what got into me and I didn't mean..” Alec stopped speaking when he saw Magnus pout a little. “What?”

“Well I have to say Alexander, I’m a little disappointed.” Alec looked at Magnus warily only relaxing a little when he saw the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Does that mean you don't want to worship me and climb me like a tree…?”

“Oh god… I said that, didn't I?” Alec groaned as Magnus nodded.

“Because I would definitely not be adverse to that.” Magnus winked and Alec damn near fainted on the spot.

“You would…?” Alec asked hesitantly, biting his lip anxiously as he awaited the answer.

Magnus looked him up and down pointedly and Alec had to suppress a shiver.

“Well, you’d need to buy me dinner first.” Magnus tilted his head to the side coquettishly.

“I can do that..” Alec said with a bashful smile.

“And, actually, I think a movie too..” Magnus teased.

“Yeah?” Alec felt himself leaning forward, elbows on the table, mesmerised by Magnus’ smile.

“Most definitely..In any case, think of the fabulous story we’ll be able to tell our grandkids about how we met..”

Alec burst into laughter, a mix of happiness and relief.

“Well then, I guess we better do that...you know, for our future grandkids..”

“It’d be rude not too.” Magnus agreed in mock seriousness.

“Exactly.”

“A toast then, to dinners and future grandkids..” Magnus held up his cup.

“Sound good to me.” Alec smiled before doing the same, already anticipating the best date EVER.

#toreadthestars #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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greybat · 6 years

Text

Fire & Leeches - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Promenade

Alt Chapter Title: I wrote a song for this fanfic IDK if it’s good but I TRIED

Story Summary: Modern!AU (with magic.) Xixa is… well, not really enjoying but not hating a night out with Asra at one of Vesuvia’s famed clubs. However, her curiosity and interest become piqued when a particular band takes the stage.

Chapter summary: Julian sings the song of his people the song he wrote for Xixa. In an alley. Guiding her through an informal waltz through garbage.

Ao3 Link

Cold awfulness sifted through Xixa’s thoughts. There was a string of rebelliousness in her synapses. Her reaction may have been a little… much, herself. However, her feelings on the matter were justified! Her lips twisted into an apologetic smile, but there was a challenging glint in her eye. “Then sing it to me now, Julian.”

The man drew back, wincing. “I sound like rubbish without back-up.”

“Then my opinion stands.” Xixa held her chin up high, shoulders relaxing. She ignored the pinch of guilt as he sullenly stared at her.

A pout pulled at his lips. Obviously, he didn’t like her presumed thoughts on his song. A tingle clawed over his body, anticipating Xixa’s eyes on him the whole time he sang. Hell, she stared up at him now, a little smirk on her lips, and he felt like he was liquefying.

“Fine,” he grumbled, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around. “But I can’t do it if you’re giving me that look.”

“Look? What look?” Xixa laughed, but Julian ignored her words. His arms locked around her, one at draped around her waist and the other over her chest. The man pulled her close to him, into the shadows. Xixa leaned back into his chest, enjoying the hold.

Anxiety clasped around his throat. Giving Xixa a private audience to a song seemed so… intimate. He only sang with his band, especially since his last massive break-up. Julian shook that thought away. Nope, not going down that road.

The woman settled against him, soft and pliable. The heat against his face scrabbled all the way to his ears. Why did this feel so good? Xixa brought her hands to the arm crossed over her chest, fingers coiling over his arm. She gave him a comforting squeeze. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I was just teasing.”

Taking a deep breath, settling his nerves, Julian ignored her assurance. He couldn’t just hand her the lyrics, she should hear them. Maybe this was a better format. After clearing his throat, Julian began to sing, low and soft into Xixa’s hair:

“Faceless people pivot about, an endless queue of empty sways. Then you came, crystal-eyed and grinning, offering a flit around the way.

Pick your poison, you crooned,”

By this point, his wavering voice leveled out. His deep voice, coiling around the lyrics, sent gentle tremors of heat through Xixa’s body. He leaned down, lips nearly brushing Xixa’s ear. The witch resisted the urge to look at him, though his words tingled down her spine:

“Tango, waltz, two-step This is the agony of the dance The misery of the misstep

Your hand beckons, your lips entrance, My hand’s in yours, What am I doing?”

Julian’s hands sought hers, threading his fingers through hers. The squeeze she gave him almost made him loose his place. Closing his eye, he focused on the upcoming lyrics:

“Your head falls to my chest, hearts thrumming drumming And you whisper,”

Suddenly, Julian spun Xixa around to face him. His eyebrows arched, a wicked smile curving across his face. The flushed, wide-eyed expression on the witch’s face incited him. Leaning down, lyrics teasing across Xixa’s lip, Julian sang:

“Pick your poison, Tango, waltz, two-step This is the agony of the dance The misery of the misstep.”

Julian wrapped an arm around Xixa’s waist, pressing his other palm against her hand, fingers laced. Exciting electricity fingered through the witch, watching the way his mouth moved around the words. Her face burned, breath catching in her lungs.

He didn’t seem to notice, though. A bittersweet expression flitted into his eyes, his lips curling downward at the corners.

“I fumble, it stings. I trip, it hurts. But let’s keep going, let’s dance until my legs ache, my feet bleed. Let’s promenade until death frees me.”

That devilish smirk pressed across his lips as he led Xixa into an awkward, informal semi-waltz. The witch clumsily mirrored his steps, still finding it hard to breathe.

“Pick your poison, Tango, waltz, two-step This is the agony of the dance The misery of the misstep Let’s promenade until death frees me.”

Julian dipped down, lips nearly catching Xixa in a kiss. Her opalescent eyes wide, catching the light from a random light in the alley. Xixa’s gaze flickered to his mouth, watching his lips form around the last lyric:

“Let’s promenade until death frees me.”

He finished, voice trailing off to a murmur. Xixa remained in her frozen pose, just staring and hardly breathing. Julian’s ears burned with curiosity and embarrassment. She hadn’t said anything. She must have hated it. The dancing, possibly, was a bit “much,” as well. Worries clawed at Julian’s thoughts as the silence prolonged.

With her mind a whorl, Xixa was finding it hard to say something. Anything. But her mind was a ball of pink fluff and hormones. The song hadn’t been some stereotypical proclamation of eternal love or serenade. Inspired, in obvious lyrics, by their time together. Well, Xixa thought she could live with that.

A faint blush started to dust across her cheeks. Julian raised his eyebrows, finally noting the pink hue with muted amusement. Maybe it was the lighting or his imagination. Whatever it was, Julian felt a lick of delight, nonetheless. Perhaps, this speechlessness was a good thing.

Just as Xixa opened her mouth, words finally coming to her, Valerius’s annoyed voice cut through the moment, “Are you two seriously dancing in the garbage?”

The two turned as one, catching sight of the rest of the band. Portia, with cellphone drawn, snapped a picture of the two, grinning like a fool. Valerius had a bottle in hand, nose wrinkled in disgust. Behind the two, almost blending into the shadows, Muriel crossed his arms and sighed.

Mortification sliced across Julian’s face with a red splash.

“You can do better than this.” Valerius sneered, disgust cinching at his features as he took a swig from his beer. Though he had just been talking about dancing in the trash, Xixa had a definite feeling the man was looking at her. Previous embarrassment at their predicament morphed into red annoyance on her face.

Apparently, Xixa wasn’t the only one who caught the implication. Julian’s voice dipped down, into a dark and warning tone. “Valerius.”

“No, he’s right, Julian. You can do better.” The red-head pinned one wide eye to her, looking equal parts hurt and uncertain. She eased the expression away with a grin. With her arms sliding up, looping around Julian’s neck, Xixa half pulled herself up while tugging his head down toward her. She could sense surprise radiating from their little audience. Lips close to his, her eyes hooded, the witch purred, “Take me somewhere better, Julian. Like your place.”

If possible, Julian’s eye widened even further, red tearing across his face from ear to ear. Lewd elation caressed his body at the mere thought of Xixa returning home with him. The fact the two of them were being watched wasn’t helping the burn on his face.

His sister whooped, suggestively, while snapping further incriminating photos. Valerius groaned, after a beat of shocked silence, stalking back into the Rowdy Raven for another drink. In the shadows, it was hard to tell if that upturn to Muriel’s lips was a smile or a cringe.

“But, if you don’t want to take me ho-”

Xixa didn’t even get to finish her teasing sentence. Julian’s arms had found their way around her waist, pulling her closer. The surprise washed out of his features, leaving behind a wolfish grin. Though still flushed, some roguishness seemed to get a handhold in his thoughts. “No, no, Xixa. I’d love nothing more than to take you… to my place.”

The witch laughed, shaking her head, as Julian led her down the alley and toward the parking lot. Lined up with the multitude cars, his hearse sat silently waiting. She pulled closer to Julian, his arm looped through hers. Despite the excitement simmering in her veins, Xixa had one more thing to say. “I… overreacted. The song wasn’t what I thought it was. I enjoyed it, quite a bit.”

A thrill of glee shot through Julian, hearing those words. He couldn’t help teasing Xixa, though. Giving her a teasing smile, as they approached the hearse, he replied, “Happens to the best of us.”

Xixa could feel the warmth and tingling sensation of his delight, sliding off him in waves. But, of course, he chose to poke fun at her. She pursed her lips, giving the man a gentle elbow in his side as they finally made it to the vehicle. Julian opened the passenger side door for the witch, motioning for her to slide in. Before settling into her seat, Xixa couldn’t help biting out a retort. “I suppose you’d know all about being dramatic.”

The witch shut the door in his face as he pressed a hand to his chest in mock shock. Through the window, she could make out Julian mouthing the word ‘me?’ She nodded through the glass, before settling back into her seat. Her heart throbbed in her chest, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. With everything that came to light tonight – her memory loss, his occupation, and the Asra complication – she felt lighter.

As Julian settled into the driver seat, he glanced over to Xixa. “Where to?”

Though he still shuddered pleasantly at the thought of her coming home with him, their little rapport in front of the rest of the band may have been a ploy. Julian’s skepticism needed to be alleviated.

“You said you were taking me to your place.” She raised her eyebrows, wondering if Julian had changed his mind. No. That blush on his face and that glint in his eye signified wanting. An intense wanting that made her heart skip a little. He just wanted to be sure.

Julian cleared his throat, ears already burning, as he turned his attention to the steering wheel. “Okay, yes. Just checking.”

A gentle smile twisted across Xixa’s lips as Julian put the car in drive and started down the street. Her gaze flickered to her window, catching his profile in the reflection. A faint image of him in a doctor’s coat, a look of consternation flitted through her mind’s eye. She shook the image – fueled by premonition or imagination – away.

She just wanted to focus the playful heat that tickled her insides. And hope it led to something more pleasantly memorable – than a heavy discussion – for the night.

Judging from the white-knuckled grip Julian held on the steering wheel, he could use a bit of joviality, as well.

#thearcanagame #the arcana game #julian devorak #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak x fan apprentice #xixa #fire & leeches #fire and leeches #my writing

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