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hops-hunny · 3 years

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Just a Touch Away

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4k

Request: Not necessarily?? A few people did ask for this though and who am I to deny you of that?

Summary: Part two of Just a Flight Away

Warnings: Sex, just sex. There’s fluff too, a good lil 50/50.

A/N: The fact that this is longer than the original makes me fucking laugh cause how tf did that even happen?? Hope I didn’t disappoint. I also got lazy half way through editing so only like the first 2k words are edited.

Neville was beyond ecstatic to be walking hand in hand with his girlfriend. It was better than anytime his mind would wander to it during the day and anytime it’d lull him to sleep at night. He looked down at her, watching as her eyes looked at everything in amazement. It reminded him of his first year at Hogwarts, wide eyed and full of curiosity of all there was to be explored. (Y/n) seemed to be soaking it all in as if she took even the smallest of blinks, everything would vanish before her eyes.

“It’s a pretty place, isn’t it?” He started off, catching the girl’s attention. She looked up at the tall lanky Gryffindor smiling at him. God he couldn’t believe that such a doll was his. This was his girlfriend.

“Yeah! It’s amazing! I love how tall the ceilings are and all the intricacies such as the carvings around the walls and floors, the big open windows, it’s all to die for!” She exclaimed, bouncing up and down a bit. How could one girl be so cute? Neville knew that if she asked, he’d do absolutely anything she wanted without a second thought. Anything she wanted and needed he would give to her at the drop of a hat.

“Yeah, that’s not even the most magical part. No matter where you go in the castle, you can find something new almost every time. Be it a hallway, room, whatever.” he stated, smiling as the girl gasped in amazement.

“We have to explore then some time while I’m here! However, today I wanna spend time with you doing you know,” she started, looking away as she was overcome with shyness, “Doing couple things.” Neville felt his heart swell at her words, trying his best not to drown her in all of his affection.

“Of course, petal. We can do whatever you want today! How bout I take you to Honeydukes and then we end the day off with the greenhouse? I know you wanted to see that first but trust me when I say it’s even more of a beauty during the evening than it is at this time.” He said, reaching down to push a bit of her hair out of her face. He laughed some as her eyes lit up at the mention of the sweets shop. When Neville and (Y/n) would send each other things, Neville would send her treats as much as possible. He had learned early on about the girl’s large sweet tooth and second stomach for dessert.

“That sounds amazing! You know how much I love treats!” she said, clapping her hands as she began to jump more. Neville looked at her fondly as he watched her fit of excitement but quickly stopped as he noticed her frown. “I don’t have the right currency to buy things yet though. I still only have dragots. That’s okay, we can j-”

“Did you really think I was going to make you pay, flower? What kind of man would I be to invite you out and not pay? I insist, shop to your heart's content today.” He said, reaching down to stroke her cheek. She leaned into his touch, smiling up at him.

“I love you, Nev.” she mumbled, closing her eyes in content from the warmth that radiated from his hand. Neville felt his breath hitch as he looked down at her, face flushing a bright red. It wasn’t the first time they had said it to each other. Sure, they ended their letters with it more often than not but to hear it from her voice? A voice that was so beautiful, so full of love, aimed towards him? She was making it really hard for him not to just have his way with her right then and there.

“Oh angel, I love you more. Come here.” He pulled her closer, bending down to rest his forehead on hers, smiling as he leaned in to kiss her. The (h/c) haired girl met him halfway, smiling into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around her neck. He continued to kiss her, deepening the kiss before remembering that they were quite literally in the middle of the hallway. He pulled away, placing a quick chaste kiss on her lips. Confusion took over (Y/n)’s face as she looked around them. In different parts of the hallway, a few guys were looking in their direction. “What is it, darling?” he questioned, grabbing her hand as he continued to walk. She simply dismissed his question, offering him a soft smile as he guided her towards the nearest castle exit. That’s when he started to hear it. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“God she’s a right fitty, isn’t she?”

“Yeah I mean look at the ass on her. She’s one of those Ilvermorny girls.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Looks straight outta Beauxbaton.”

“Longbottom’s a fool, I would’ve had my way with her as soon as she stepped out the train.”

Neville felt his jaw clench, trying to calm himself down. He had to get them out of here before (Y/n) heard, because if she had? Those guys would see exactly why he was put in Gryffindor in the first damn place. “Petal, do you want a piggyback ride? I know you mentioned wanting one in a few of your letters. Come on, hop on.” he said, bending down some so she could get on. (Y/n) felt her eyes light up at the idea. She took a large running start before jumping on the boy’s back, squealing as he lifted her up. Neville secured her on his back, biting his lip at the feeling of her plush thighs filtering between his fingers. They felt heavenly, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to what they’d feel like wrapped around his- they had places to be. He didn’t want his precious girl to hear anything that those twits were saying about her so quickly he took off down the hallway, smiling as the girl laughed, tightening her arms around his neck.

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(Y/n) gasped as her eyes zoomed in various places all around Honeydukes. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She ran to various different snacks, reading the packages of them. “Look Nev, look! These look sooo good. They’re strawberry flavored! I love strawberry.” she said, holding up the box of snack cakes in his face. Neville laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm for sweets.

“I’ve had those before. They’re quite good! I think you’ll enjoy them ‘specially since you like strawberry so much. Do you wanna get them?” he questioned. (Y/n) pondered, humming slightly before nodding, setting them in his hands. She wondered how he could contain himself, especially when there were so many sweets around! Who wouldn’t wanna buy practically the whole store?

As they walked around the store, (Y/n) would occasionally find something else that piqued her interest, ask Neville’s opinion on it, and then throw it in his arms. She did this numerous times until she realized how full his arms were. The tower of sweets and treats almost covered his face. However, she couldn’t help to admire how his arms flexed and tensed under his shirt only imagining how nice they’d feel-

“Are you done, petal? It’s okay if you’re not! You can get a few more things, I just wanna get back to the greenhouse before it gets too dark.” he explained, turning to the side so he could see her face.

“Yeah, I’m done! Are you sure this is okay? This is a lot of stuff Nev.” she questioned, biting the inside of her cheek guilty.

“Nonsense! Nothing is too much for you, flower. Let’s get going, I’ve got a few plants that I need to water in about,” he set the treats down on the counter before looking at his watch, “30 minutes. Perhaps you can help me?”

“I’d love to! You know that’s my favorite part of growing plants is the watering part. It’s almost like you can see them do a little happy dance when you do! Well, some of the more animated plants quite literally do but you get what I mean!” she rambled on, quickly latching onto his arm once more. Neville listened to her, grabbing the bags as they began to walk out of the door only for him to bump into Malfoy himself. Great.

“Ah I see, loneliness has stricken you again huh Longbottom? I don’t know what all those treats will do for that!” He snickered out, high fiving Crabbe and Goyle. Neville rolled his eyes, frankly quite done with the bloke. He didn’t give him that same sense of fear as when he was younger. In fact, now he found him to be quite annoying.

“Actually they aren’t for him, they’re mainly all for me! Neville’s personal pick is just this little box right here.” she said, holding up the small box before placing it back in the bag. (Y/n) had to stop herself from letting out an audible gag as the blonde’s eyes traveled up and down her frame.

“You must be Neville’s American cousin, right? I-”

“Didn’t ask. Come on babe, let’s go.” The small girl said, dragging her boyfriend along with her. Draco stood there in shock as the two walked off still in amazement in how Neville had such a hot American girlfriend already.

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“Woah! I’ve read about this plant actually. Even had a small personal one of my own.” The (h/c) haired girl said, positioning the magnifying glass up and down around the leaves to view it better. Neville whipped his head towards her in excitement.

“Really? Wait, had?” he asked, watching as the girl shrugged sheepishly.

“Yeah, turns out it wasn’t really suited for the climate in America. Such a shame though! She was a real beauty.” She said, still not looking up at the plant. Neville smiled at her fondly, walking closer to her as he stood behind her.

“Yeah, she is.” he muttered, wrapping his arms around her waist as he turned her around.

“Something tells me we’re no longer discussing plants.” she joked, wrapping an arm around his neck as she brought the other to stroke his cheek. He leaned down hovering his lips above hers.

“I’m afraid we aren’t.” he closed the gap between them, kissing her with all the anger, all the passion that had built up over the day. He was tired of it, tired of men speaking about her like he wasn’t right fucking there. Obviously that wasn’t his sweet flower’s fault but god was he furious. He took one of his hands, trailing it from her waist to the underside of her skirt. With one hand he flipped it up and with the other he began to grip and prod at one of her cheeks harshly. He trailed his free hand up to her jaw, holding it tightly as he pulled away from the kiss leaving a trail of saliva in its path. “Do you want to-”

“Yes.” she cut him off, taking one of his hands and leading it under her shirt. He moved his large freckled hand up her torso until he reached her breast. His eyes widened as he felt the lack of bra.

“You little minx.” he sneered, gripping her ass in both of his hands as he sat her on top of the working table. He pushed her shirt above her breast, watching as her nipples began to harden from the cool air. Neville got on his knees pulling the girl to the edge of the table. He couldn’t help but pause and admire how beautiful she was. The setting sun reflected off of her sweaty (s/c) skin making it appear as if she was glowing. The shadows and light hit the parts of her soaking panties, revealing just how wet her cunny was. Neville let out an audible groan at the sight, adjusting his tightening pants. “God you’re bloody gorgeous. Look at you baby, all soaked just for me?” He ran a finger over her cloth covered slick, smirking as the girl jumped a bit letting out a soft whimper. “Let me treat you, yeah?” he whispered against her clothed cunt before ripping her panties down and stuffing them in her back pocket (He certainly was not giving those back).

His eyes were glued to the sight in front of him. It was more beautiful than any photograph that she had sent. No matter how many times she had written to him about how wet she was, nothing could prepare him for the true extent to what it was. The entirety of her pussy was covered in slick, running down her folds and now onto the table. He watched as her pretty little hole clenched and unclenched around nothing practically begging to be filled. But he couldn’t just yet, he had to do what he had been dreaming of for years. He moved a steady hand forward rubbing her clit in circular motions before licking a fat strip across her slit as he began to suck on her clit. (Y/n) gasped, bringing a shaky hand down to his head pushing him in forward and, who was Neville to deny her? Sure, Neville lacked experience severely. They both did. But he’d be damned if he came up from between her legs without giving her an orgasm first.

Neville took his middle finger, gathering a bit of her juices on it before slowly sinking it inside of her. He began to pump it in and out, making sure to be gentle and slow while maintaining a steady pace. (Y/n) threw her head back, letting out a cross between a whimper and a moan. It wasn’t like she hadn’t pleasured herself before, she had...numerous times. Sometimes even multiple times a day. But god his fingers? They were so much thicker than hers, so much longer touching and hitting spots she didn’t know were possible. “A-another please.” she whimpered, bucking her hips onto his face. Neville looked up at her, humming around her clit in agreement before he slid in another digit into her tight hole. He felt his dick strain against his pants more at the sound of her moans but he could ignore it. This wasn’t about him right now, it was all about him pleasuring his perfect girl.

“Do you like that, pretty? Hm? Like when I get my fingers covered in you.” He muttered against her, groaning as she clenched around his fingers. He drove them deeper keeping with his slow pace. Neville didn’t want to rush this, he wanted to appreciate the girl who he loved, the girl who kept him up late into the night as he stroked one out. He knew they would share many intimate moments in the months to come but he definitely wanted their first to be the most memorable.

He continued to lick and suck on her bud, pulling away every so often to lick at the stray juices that ran down her folds. “Just one more, pretty. I’ve gotta make sure you’re nice and stretched out for me.” she nodded lazily at his words, feeling herself growing closer and closer by the second. (Y/n) was in such a state of euphoria, never wanting it to end. She let out another strangled moan as Neville slid in a third finger, scissoring them a bit before beginning to make a come hither motion within her. The tips of his fingers rubbed against her spot sending her into a fit of nonsense phrases and words, the most recognizable of them being “please, please. Yes, yes, yes!” which only encouraged him further. With more force he repeatedly began to jab at her g-spot growling as the girl came apart above him. (Y/n) gasped, falling back onto the table as her body grew tense, releasing all over Neville fingers. She continued to moan as her arousal slipped past his fingers running down the table as the boy fingered her through her high. Neville pulled his fingers out, stretching them apart as he stared at the arousal that was connected between the spaces. He stuck his fingers in his mouth, letting out a soft moan at her taste. Just as sweet as he had pictured it.

After a few moments of heavy panting, (Y/n) felt a bit better and decided to sit up. Her (e/c) eyes trailed down her lover’s body as they reached the bulge in his pants. ‘If it’s that big through his pants, I don’t even want to imagine how big it is out of them!’ she found herself thinking. No wonder he had used three fingers, she wasn’t even sure that that was enough. She reached both her hands out, beginning to unfasten his belt pulling down his pants before freeing his member. She held back a gasp as she watched it slap up against his lower abdomen. Neville’s cock was a shade darker than him, it had no curve to it but it didn’t matter. He made up for a lack of curve with the sheer girth of his cock alongside the length (which was most definitely half of her forearm, if not more). She took a deep breath before hopping off of the table and kneeling before him.

“What’re you doing, love?” he asked, reaching a hand down to stroke her cheek.

“Returning the favor?” she replied as she reached a hand forward to grasp him. She looked at him confused as he lifted her back up, setting her back on top of the table.

“You can do that some other time. Right now is about pleasuring you.” he said, moving his lips to her neck as he began to suck and kiss along it leaving a trail of marks in its wake.

“A-are you sure? What about you? I’d feel bad that I’m not pleasing you in return.” a soft frown took over her face. Neville grabbed her face softly, tilting it towards his own.

“Oh darling, taking care of you brings me a greater pleasure than anything you could give me. Tonight is about you so let me just take care of you, yeah?” he asked, looking into her eyes full of love and a deep amount of arousal. She sat there unsure before nodding, leaning up to capture his lips. Neville returned the kiss, trailing the hand that was against her face to wrap gently around her neck. He pulled away, tugging her lip with him. “I’m gonna put it in now. Are you ready?” he asked, lubing himself up with the reminisce of her first orgasm.

“Please be gentle.” she whispered, hiding her face in his neck as he pushed his tip against her entrance.

“‘Course love. I’ll do my best.” he placed a kiss on the top of her head before beginning to sink into her. He let out a hiss at the tight heat of her velvety walls. When he was in enough, he brought both his hands up to embrace her, whispering soft phrases of encouragement as he slid into her tight hole. He couldn’t help but feel guilty at the sound of her whimpers and cries, feeling awful that he was the cause of it. After what felt like ages, his pelvic region finally met with her mound. He pulled back gazing at the sight as he let out a soft moan.

“Y-you can move now. Feels good.” she stuttered out, gasping as he pulled out some. Neville thrusted into her deeply to test the waters, watching her facial expressions. He felt himself grow relieved when he saw how deep in pleasure she was. Her eyes were clenched shut, chest rising and falling quickly. He took that as a sign to continue, thrusting into her deep and slow. He gripped her hips tightly, deepening the intensity of his thrusts. The boy was absolutely enamored. How could she be so cute in such a filthy state? Tongue lulled out the side of her mouth, hair tousled messily as sweat covered her delicate skin. Seeing her in such bliss only fueled his need to please her, to see her come undone beneath him. He continued to pound into her, every thrust filled with passion.

“You’re so fucking pretty, angel,” he growled out leaning down to capture her breast in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, nibbling softly before pulling away and doing the same to the other one. (Y/n) continued to let out a string of moans, tightening her grip on the Gryffindor's back. She couldn’t help but dig her fingers into the flesh of his back, trying to ground herself as her lower region received immense amounts of pleasure. She let out a cry of gratification as he began to rub at her clit with circular motions, digging her heels into his lower back. “God just look at you. You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y-you Nev! S-so good. It’s so deep, so big.” she whimpered as she began to feel hot tears form in her eyes. “Love you so much, I love you!” she sobbed, resting her head on her chest. It was all too much, too good for her to handle. Neville cooed at her adoringly continuing to thrust into her. “C-close….”

“Hold it for just one second of love. Let’s cum together.” He grunted. After a few moments, he felt a familiar pit in his stomach signaling his release. His thrust began to grow sloppy, hips stuttering but as he went to pull out, the girl stopped him.

“Please don’t. I’m on birth control. Want you to cum inside of me, want you to fill me up.” Neville gripped at her hips harder, pistoning them with an animalistic amount of pace. The moans of them both echoed off the greenhouse walls as they both released, collapsing against one another. (Y/n) shuddered, whimpering at the feeling of his thick seed spilling inside of her. It seemed nonstop, pouring and pouring deeper inside of her, dribbling out past him and onto the table.

Neville let out a breathless chuckle at the sight, feeling a sense of pride at the fact that it was his seed dripping out of her. No one else. Not Malfoy, not his idiot friends, and certainly not those morons from in the hallway earlier. He stroked her skin gentle, watching as she shuddered at his touch. “Sorry love, it seems I left quite the mark on your neck.” he mumbled, brushing his fingertips along the healing mark he had left. It was a big purple hickey, the same shade as the bruises on her hips.

“S’okay. I’ll have something that reminds me of you. I think I accidentally gave you one too when I came. I couldn’t help myself.” Neville viewed his reflection in the small hanging mirror across the room. Moving his long shaggy hair to the side, he saw a small reddish bruise, the indent from her teeth still visible.

“It’s a shame that I didn’t get to show you the rest of the plants you wanted.” he frowned. He had totally forgotten that was the entire reason they had come to the greenhouse today. Neville wanted his girl’s first day at Hogwarts to be absolutely perfect in every way and he had ruined it in his own fit of selfish greed.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, sitting up. She winced slightly but continued on. “This was way better than any sort of plant! Nothing says ‘welcome to Hogwarts’ like what we just had.” Neville let out a breath that he wasn’t even aware he had been holding.

Even though this was the first day of them meeting in person, he knew this was the girl for him. As the sun set and they both held each other in their arms, the pair couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for them. What adventures lie ahead? Only time could tell. But luckily they didn’t have to spend another minute apart. (Y/n) was no longer just a flight away, but a mere inches apart.

#Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville x you #neville longbottom x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

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strawberryybird · 3 years

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i have been blasting muna’s new single for a whole 24 hours now because i am a) so gay b) edelthea on the brain. so have this flash fic: Dancer!Dorothea and her ✨ silk chiffon ✨

“Oh come on Edie, don’t be a lance in the mud.”

“I have homework, Dorothea, as do you.” Edelgard frowned, adjusting her bag of library books on her shoulder. Dorothea’s beaming smile didn’t falter for a second. Edelgard frowned a little deeper.

“Well, this is my homework, so be a dear and watch me?” Dorothea’s smile twisted, turning into that teasing thing she uses on Hubert and Sylvain in swordsmanship training. “Plus, you get to tell me everything I’m doing wrong. I know you love a good critique session, Edie.”

Not when it’s her, Edelgard thought and immediately swallowed before she could say it allowed. “Fine, the victory is yours.” She said instead, already walking towards the training ground. “I would like to see that outfit of yours.”

Dorothea’s smile turned sweet at the edges.

Edelgard had not thought this through.

In her acquiescing to watch Dorothea practice her performance for the Heron cup, she had completely neglected to realise she would be watching Dorothea practice her performance for the Heron cup in the Dancer’s training garb, complete with Magic use and rapier strapped to her very uncovered leg.

And Dorothea was a good dancer.

The deep crimson of the robes was unfairly pretty on her complexion, bringing out the deep auburn notes in her hair, loose and trailing after her as she worked across the training ground. The ivory fabric flowed around her like water, the silk glittering in the light as bright as the gold jewellery accents.

The setting sunlight dyed the light in the training grounds in orange and pinks, catching the magic radiating from Dorothea, casting them both in deep pinks and sparkling gold. Dorothea hadn’t seemed to notice, continuing to twirl her way cross the dusty gravel.

Edelgard hadn’t ever seen the sun shine as brightly as Dorothea’s dancing. The way her eyes lit up as she arced her silk scarf above her, the line graceful and swift, completing the movement with a turn and a neatly placed step.

Dorothea caught her eye and threw her head back with bright, genuine laughter, and Edelgard could have rent the Cathedral brick from brick to see it again.

“Thoughts and feelings, Edie? I know I missed the passe position all through the second section, but I’m heaps better with the silk part.” Dorothea chatted at her from across the training grounds, already plodding back over.

Edie made a very small, very embarrassing noise in the back of her throat and immediately cleared her throat to bury it and call over the grounds herself in a very clever, inconspicuous strategic social move. How Dorothea not understand that was one of the most beautiful things Edelgard had ever had the privilege to witness, she didn’t know.

“Dorothea -” she started.

“Yes, Edie?” Dorothea appeared next to her on the bench, nearly giving her half a heart attack. She shook her hair out, unceremoniously dumping her crimson dancing scarf in Edelgard’s lap. It was soft, even under her gloves, and Edelgard wasn’t sure if it was silk, or chiffon, or some beautifully soft blend of the two.

“You’ll win.” Edelgard said, with as much conviction as she could, fingers tangled in the scarf. “You clearly understand the intricacies of dance and performance, and you’ve put in the work. I have every confidence in your victory.”

“Well, thank you, Edie.” Dorothea’s dancer’s jewellery clinked as she squeezed her uncloaked shoulder. “But I’d like to know what you think, not what my house leader thinks.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. “Dorothea, you..” Edie looked at the hand still on her shoulder, and followed the line of Dorothea’s arm up to her bright eyes. “You dance like it’s.. fun. It’s clear you love it, your dancing is so full of joy. It’s almost a shame you’ll be dancing on the battlefield, which I suppose it the point but,” Edelgard had to look away, the setting sun behind Dorothea was far too bright for her eyes. “You can’t teach passion. You were right about that. You find the right vocation, and ‘boom’, you have passion to spare. You can’t teach that.

“Dorothea?” She squinted and looked across at her, silhouetted by the sunlight.

Dorothea’s eyes were bright, glittering like her jewellery, her cheeks the same dusty pink as her lipstick. Edelgard’s hand twitched between them, a half attempt to move a stray lock of Dorothea’s hair from her face. She wondered if it would be as soft as the scarf in her lap.

She didn’t even blink before Dorothea grabbed her into a hug, arms slung over her shoulders and squeezing her tight, Dorothea’s face buried in her shoulder.

Dorothea’s outfit was as gentle and soft as it had looked, light and flowing and fluttering, not even the sunlight could stick to her. Edie, so slowly, circled her arms around Dorothea’s waist and held on to her tight as she could.

"Goddess, sorry, I just -" Dorothea sprang back from their emotionally charged hug like she'd touched the stove. "I didn't mean to make you-"

Edelgard grabbed her trembling hand and squeezed. "No, no, I -" Her head caught up to the rest of her, stopping her words in her tracks. She could backtrack from this, if she wanted. She could pat Dorothea's hand with more force than she could truly control, get up from the bench and leave this moment as it was, relegated to her memory. Dorothea wouldn't follow her, and everything would continue on the path she'd envisioned.

The sunset slipped further down the walls of the training ground, both of them squinting a little awkwardly.

Edelgard put her hand on Dorothea's bare shoulder, her skin chilled and pricked with gooseflesh beneath her glove. The warmth was long gone from the day, and Dorothea was still here, still borrowing Edelgard's time, still sat beside her on a cold wooden bench to ask her about Dancing techniques Edelgard didn't have a single clue about.

Edelgard leaned in and kissed her, the sun in her eyes, Dorothea's smile pressing back against hers; soft as silk and twice as sweet.

#birb does fics #edelthea #LIFE'S SO FUN LIFE'S SO FUN. their love is soft like silk chiffon.#i hear the muna song. i remember the rad ballet free movement scarf. i write edelthea fanfic. thats my life i guess.#edelgard doesn't know ballet terminology :( it hurts my heart. it's a chaine not a twirl edie.#now on ao3 because. i mean why not.#dancer!dorothea makes me v emotional. i love her a lot.

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vminity21 · 3 years

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The Art of You | myg

Pairing: artist!yoongi x universitystudent!reader, friendshiptolovers!au

Word Count: 1,578

Genre: fluff/soft

Warning(s): None, Rated: pg

Summary: A painting Yoongi has been working on reveals his true feelings that he has for you in the most beautiful way imagined. Dedicated and was requested by @suhdays , who also created the beautiful banner for this blurb. Thank you.

A tan apron clings to Yoongi’s frame while he scrunches the sleeves of his sweatshirt halfway up his arms. Converse pat along the plastic flooring while he settles the painting onto the ground. It is nearly finished, and the inspiration is revealed in just the smallest intricacies- details that remind him of you. Gentle transmits of music reverberate within the small space, and he readies his paint upon the palette you gifted him a year prior before he discovered the budding emotions, he has for you.

Aligning a picture of what he plans on adding to the main canvas, he carefully traces the lining with his fingers, concentrating solely on whatever he intends on creating to make the masterpiece complete. Dark strands flop past his eyes while he positions himself over the canvas, palette steady in his left hand while his free hand grips the handle of a petite paintbrush. Two bracelets decorate his painting wrist, but he is ever so careful than to let them touch any part of the dampened streaks.

Heavy footsteps trample into the room, slinging your bookbag over a chair in the corner, a brief sigh brushes your lips. Yoongi knew you would be due soon from your class at university, and you are too exhausted to fully pay attention to what Yoongi is finalizing. He has been working on a new project for weeks now, but he refuses to tell you who it is for. Sometimes, Yoongi likes to keep to himself, especially when it comes to his art, yet he has been quite successful with some of the artwork he has accomplished and sold within the past year.

His lips grace a small smirk, happiness spreading along his chest with being in your presence- something he has been looking forward to all day. “Yoongi, I’m home,” you bellow, stacking a few notebooks onto the tiny table in preparation to continue the homework you would so graciously like not to do.

“About time you showed up,” he teases, swiping a bigger paintbrush along a plain sheet of paper to observe if this is the color he would like to use. Noticing the palette, he had set down for the moment, you smile to yourself. He really loves his palette- the only one he owns that you happened to give him, yet he refuses to buy more, especially since the one you bought him is covered in faint stains from past achievements. You never understood it, but he takes it with him everywhere he goes, and the one time he thought he forgot it, he almost lost his mind. Thankfully, Namjoon, Yoongi’s roommate, found it behind a dresser where it must have fallen without Yoongi’s knowledge.

“I still don’t get why you are panicking, Yoons. I am sure there are some palettes in one of these stores here,” plus you did not have any issue with purchasing him another one, “Want to check them out?”

“Not really,” he murmured, timidly looking away from you while he anxiously awaited the doting text from Namjoon. What you are unaware of, is that palette you surprised him with is the truest good luck charm he has ever received. Because of you, every time he used that specific palette, his artwork has been recognized by thousands of individuals throughout the country. Because of you, he is determined to continue his passion with the gift you gave him held firmly in his left hand.

“Okay,” you sigh softly in confusion, “Well then would you like to grab some coffee until Joon replies? I’m sure it will turn up.”

Yoongi shakes his head briefly to situate his hair while the memory dissipates for the time being. “How long have you been in here? Have you even eaten anything?” You always worry about him because when he gets too focused into what he is doing, sometimes he may forget to hydrate, as well as eat, yet you can relate due to college being so overwhelming. You notice the white mask tucked under his chin, his earrings gleam beneath the light, and you cannot help but fondly gaze at how handsome your friend is. You met him a year ago, and although you have always had feelings for him, you feared that he didn’t feel the same, and when you stumbled upon his talent for the arts, you were determined to gift him with something related to what he loves to do.

“I was thinking we could grab dinner as soon…” his words trail as he dots the brush along certain areas of the canvas. You can’t help but curiously tilt your head to see if you can figure out what it is, he is creating, but from the angle and distance from where Yoongi is, you can’t quite see it yet. “… as I am…” He is so enraptured in his work that he forgets to finish his sentence and you playfully shake your head at him before turning to your studies.

Uncertain of how much time has ticked away into the evening, you do not understand how Yoon’s thighs cannot be burning from how long he poses in deep concentration. “Who needs exercise,” you joke, running your fingertips along your eyes to awake them if even possible. “You know,” you bring your voice up in volume for Yoongi to hear, “I’m not going to lie, I’m actually excited to see what you’ve conjured up,” you confess; there has not been a completion that you haven’t loved from Yoongi’s extraordinary talent.

“It’s definitely different from what I’ve done before,”

“Oh really?” Your attention is now returned to your notebook and with pencil in hand, you scribble random lines along the sides to prevent yourself from blushing. He has such an effect on you, and you wonder how he hasn’t realized it. “What inspired it? Give me a clue.”

“You mean, who?”

Pausing, with furrowed eyebrows, you ponder through your brain on who Yoongi could be referring to. “It’s a who this time?”

“Believe it or not,” he says, and you hadn’t taken into account the way he places his hands on his hips, longingly staring at you while you rack your thoughts with whatever guess you can muster.

“Okay but where’s my clue?”

“Hm,” he hums to himself trying to not make it as obvious as he would like to, especially if it risks scaring you away. “She loves to getaway. More so when it’s cold and the atmosphere contains the scenery she needs.”

A she? Surprised by the revelation, your heart shatters in different directions, yet you compile yourself enough to remain composure. “A getaway?” You choke, trying to lower your voice to not appear as shocked as you feel. “I’m assuming in the winter?”

“Mhm,” Yoongi responds, “Sometimes she wishes that she could see flowers there though, especially the ones that are her favorite. It’s simply hard when there is always so much snow.”

“Um, is it-?” Despite the tears wanting to burn down your cheeks, you guess a few names that come to mind, hardly being able to realize that Yoongi is talking about you. Exasperated after you have guessed so many wrong answers, Yoongi’s arms drop to his sides while he exhales slowly, gathering himself before sauntering to you. When a soft hand presses to your cheek, you lose all track of sanity; his lips touch yours so gently, it takes you a moment to realize what is happening. Oh! You gasp inwardly. Oh, you want to laugh at yourself for now you see that every fact he uncovered about his painting was him hinting about you.

Your fingers curl into his sweatshirt while you pull him closer, deepening the kiss while your heart flies sporadically along your ribcage. This whole entire time- he has been working on a painting inspired by you. And, this entirety of your friendship, he has thought of you lovingly as much as you have thought about him?

Breathless, he pulls away, but just enough to rest his forehead upon yours, his bangs tickle your face. “Are you ready to see the painting?”

Nodding, you are at a loss for words, the sensation of his kiss still lingering while he takes your hand. Following suit, he bends swiftly to lean the piece against the wall, accepting your hand in his once again as soon as it steadies. Gasping, your eyes widen at the most beautiful scenery you have ever witnessed. Snow capped mountains sketched meticulously with splashes of blues and greys mingle in precise detail to the sparse blades of grass poking from the blanket of white covering the ground. The sky alludes to the beginning of a snowfall, but what your vision gathers in the center of the painting is what touches your heart in ways Yoongi has always been able to prompt.

A bundle of magenta peonies are painted to be growing in resistant to the brutal winds of winter, and in tiny, neatly stroked letters exposes the words you never thought you would hear, or in this case, read.

“I love you.” Yoongi whispers, squeezing your hand as you take it all in.

“Yoongi, it’s- it’s the most beautiful gift.” You cry, him embracing you immediately, the scent of his sweatshirt reaching your nostrils as you cuddle into his frame. “I love you so much.”

And with that, forever awaits, Yoongi expressing his love in a way only he knows how- painted contentedly to the art of you.

#bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #kafenetwork #heartsforbts #min yoongi #yoongi blurb #bts #bts blurb #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi soft #artist yoongi #bts fluff #bts soft #1k +

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under-sedationnn · 3 years

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asra week 2021: celebration

me? writing and posting the day one prompt for asra week on day three? more likely than you think haha work has been keeping me super duper busy, but i really want to be able to participate in something so cool and genuine :) harnessing creativity takes time and effort, but it is so worth and it! i am so so proud of all of the work that has been posted for asra week so far and am honored to be a part of it, even if i am a little late on posts :) hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1465

@sweetalnazar

"Asra, not to whine or anything, but how much longer until we reach where we're going?"

Chuckling, he turned to me, his face mischievous and bright in the warm sun of the afternoon. He grabbed my hand, and laid a small kiss on my knuckles.

"Not too much longer, Y/n, I promise."

After traveling on foot for hours at this point, my mind reeled with the question: Where is he taking me? He had avoided the question with relative ease all day, only indulging me in the detail that I would love it, and that it would be worth the journey. My calves burned and sweat trickled down my back. I yearned for the cool breeze that set in after sundown; luckily, night was near.

Steeling myself for another taxing hour of aching feet, I suddenly noticed a bright gathering of lights up ahead. Although sunset drowned out the glory of candles and lanterns on the horizon, it was clear that upon nightfall, the place would be alive with heat and fire.

Stopping in my tracks, I asked, "Is this where you're taking me?"

He only smiled, and in our excitement we nearly ran the rest of the way. Arriving, I noticed booths, tents, and a small stage. Foreign spices tickled at my nose and my mouth watered at the thought of what kinds of food I would find here.

Although, there was a presence of something else, as well. Something familiar, ghosting past me. Seeping into my skin, gliding across my arms and legs and filling my clothes with fever and chill and adventure.

Gesturing widely to the array of people and small shops in front of us, Asra said, "Welcome to the Celebration of the Magician."

Understanding, I asked, "So you feel it too? It's magic in the air?"

"Quite literally."

Walking through one of the small aisles, he explained, "We'll run into many drifters here. Many that are not actual magicians, like the fortune tellers in Vesuvia. However," he stopped in front of a sealed tent, smoke drifting slowly out of the cracked seam, "there are some like us."

"There's another magician in there?"

He simply nodded, asking, "Would you like to meet her?"

Nodding vigorously, I took his hand and led us into the large space. Despite the presence of the tent outside, the inside seemed to stretch out into a grand entrance. The walls made out of black fabric, the floor smoothly shifted from patchy grass and sand into ebony marble. Smoke laced the roof of the tent, swirling down to trace our skin.

The smell of ash and tobacco grew stronger as we approached a door at the end of the long, wide hall. Sealed shut, there was no handle. Foreign symbols were etched around the door frame, and I assumed they were protective charms.

"Asra, what are these?" I asked, tracing my fingers over the carved lines.

Leaning closer to the door, he mimicked my actions, “They keep the door sealed to unwanted visitors, non-magicians.”

“Okay, but there’s not even a handle, how do we get in?”

Backing away, he said, “We need to figure out what the symbols say. If I know anything about Aislinn, it’s that she loves riddles.”

Rooting through his satchel, he pulled out a small book of symbols and incantations, searching for matching words or characters that could aid us. As the minutes passed, I began to grow slightly frustrated at the seemingly impossible riddle, though Asra kept a calm demeanor.

Turn around. A voice whispered, the words floating around my head for moments after.

Turn around. It repeated, and this time I obliged.

A mirror had appeared, embellished with fiery jewels set into bright gold. Quite the juxtaposition against the cold and murky decor of the room.

Peering into the reflection, I began to read the symbols along the door. The once foreign words had transformed into a language I could not only understand with ease, but ones that felt completely familiar to me.

Translating, I carefully said, “You may enter when the waves crash and the seas part, when two bodies become one.”

Turning around abruptly, Asra made his way over to the mirror, only noticing its appearance after hearing me speak. “You can read it?”

“Yeah, if you look in the mirror, it shows you what it says, look!” I pointed to all of the words along the doorframe within the reflection, and still found Asra dumbfounded at the symbols across the door.

“Y/n, they just look like backwards symbols to me,” he chuckled, looking proudly at my face. “I suppose your magic has connected to Aislinn’s somehow, she must like you.”

Though feeling proud, I still found myself confused at the riddle that was presented to us.

“That’s great, but that still doesn’t take care of this riddle. You know I have never been very good at them.”

“Which must be why you love visiting the Magician’s realm so much, hm?” he teased, earning a poke in the side from me.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said, chuckling all the while, “but seriously, what does it mean oh great riddle solver?”

“Well let’s see,” he began, “we know that it’s not literal, so she’s not actually talking about the sea or two bodies of water crashing into each other.”

“Oh,” I said, “I think I understand.”

He gave me a small smirk, leaning closer, “Me too, should we test the theory?”

Giving him a small nod, he pulled me close and placed a small kiss on my lips. Though not lasting long, after we pulled away, the feeling of his lips on mine lingered. His eyes shined and a blush faded across the bridge of his nose. I remembered then how much I care about him, and everything he has done to help me.

As I dared to pull him in again, the door swung open with a small creek, and we were pulled in with an imaginary force. Colors swirled around us until everything faded to a muggy hue of red and black and gold.

I found myself sitting on a plush couch, next to Asra, while surrounded by other magicians. Some were sitting in the same area as we were, sipping on drinks and telling each others’ fortune, while others danced slowly and sultry. Their bodies moved in synced rhythm to low drums, cellos, violas. The smoke was thick within this room as well, and it had a dreamlike quality to it.

Looking at Asra, I felt relaxed, at ease, and as though I could take a long nap. He obviously felt similarly, the same sleepy expression playing across his face, as well.

“I thought you two would never make it.” I deep, slow voice drawled, “Honestly, Asra, you’ve lost your touch.”

Moving my gaze upwards, I found a tall and aged woman towering over us. Although she showed her age, her aura was timeless and she seemed to radiate youth, passion, and a sense of risk. A large, black panther roamed aimlessly around the room, eventually finding a seat at her feet.

“It’s nice to see you again, Aislinn,” standing, he took one of her ringed hands and placed a small kiss on the back of it, “you look fantastic.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, young magician.”

Turning to meet my eyes, she gestured for me to stand. I stood to meet her gaze, and found myself having to look up at her statuesque figure.

“And this one, where did you find them?” She ran her nails along my jaw, seemingly scrutinizing the intricacies of my face.

“They found me, Aislinn, and I am lucky for it.”

“Well they’re just beautiful aren’t they, and so very powerful.”

She smiled at me, and placed kisses across my cheeks. Stepping back, she spoke to the both of us.

“Please do enjoy yourselves, and don’t be strangers.”

Gliding away, her familiar followed after her, vanishing into the misty crowd ahead.

“Would you like to dance?” Asra asked, bringing my attention back to him.

Blushing, I answered, “With you, always.”

Walking over toward the other dancers, he found my hips and brought them to his own. Wrapping my hands around his neck, he buried his face into my shoulder and began to sway. A slow pace, soft, with small kisses along my shoulder blades and neck. Our hips moved into synchronicity, and mouths followed the beat of the drums, and rhythm of the strings, the heat of the room.

The Celebration of the Magician was meant to represent the honoring of magic itself, as well as all of the people who harness its powers. However, in this moment, Asra and I celebrated one another, the power we possessed, as well as what we meant to each other.

#asra #asra the magician #asra the arcana #the arcana imagines #asra week 2021

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passivenovember · 4 years

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Tagged by: the lovely and talented @cherrydreamer

Tell me which 5 TV shows make you feel better, then tag 10 other blogs.

Im dyslexic and I got the numbers mixed up so it’s 10 shows now whoops

(Through this I’ve realized how much I absolutely guzzle American content. I need recs from other countries so plz HIT A GIRL UP)! This is going to be long as fuck because I’m so passionate about storytelling. Hope you can find something comforting to watch <3

1. How I Met Your Mother: I love everything about this show. From the overarching plotline of “something better is always coming,” and “Nothing in life is legendary unless your friends are there to see it,” to the technical design (The mother is a Yellow Umbrella, Robin is the Blue French Horn) to the intricacy of how this story is told, How I Met Your Mother is integral to my happiness. So much so that whenever I have a panic attack my partner turns on HIMYM. I love it.

2. What We Do In The Shadows: This show is fucking hilarious. Just a bunch of pure of heart, dumb of ass bisexual vampires making a documentary about their lives. Nadja, my favorite character, is autistic and so is one of my best friends. To see her face light up at that kind of representation: unparalleled. There are only 20 episodes and I’ve seen each one four times. It’s hilarious. Colin Robinson the Energy Vampire is one of the most hilarious characters in television history.

3. King of the Hill: My uncle introduced me to a lot of the shows from the 90s that I love. He used to babysit me and show my inappropriate stuff and this was one that always stuck with me. While being genuinely funny I think it does a fantastic job of showing that conservatives can also be kind and understanding people. Hank Hill is one of the greatest cartoon dads; he loves his son, he loves his wife, and any time he is wrong he takes the criticism graciously. Fantastically funny. Also includes the late great Britani Murphy.

4. Daria: she’s one of the characters that I relate to the most. Misunderstood in her time, a fantastic portrayal of what it feels like to be the smart girl--the outsider. She eventually grows to understand that people care about her and what she has to say, that maybe her classmates and family members aren’t terrible. Incredible growth exhibited in someone so young. ALSO: the animation is so badass. Dry humor is the best humor.

5. Pen15: Shows us that we all were so awkward in our youth and that, in many ways, we never really left middle school. At its core it’s a story about friendship--how important it is not to take yourself so seriously. Has a staggering amount of heart, as well. Love.

6. Bobs Burgers: Loving the people around you BECAUSE of their eccentricities, not in spite of them. Loving fully and completely until it consumes you. Loving without fear. Fantastic, i’ve been watching since 2011 and I’m so proud of how far this show has come.

7. Sex and the City: First off, I’m a Miranda. While some of the concepts of this one are a little outdated, the heart of the show remains the same: friendship, good shoes, and good sex are the most important things in life. Carrie Bradshaw and her friends taught me that it’s okay to be unapologetically smart. And Sexy. And sweet. That being a woman isn’t one-toned, it’s multivocal. That there’s not wrong way to be feminine. Love. Not to mention every person in America knew if they were a Carrie, Samantha, Charolette, or Miranda (let me know which one is you).

8. Grace and Frankie: You really don’t want to get me started with this one. Two women in their 70s must start fresh in life when their husbands leave them to marry each other. This show says so much about womanhood, how we are thrown away once we reach a certain age. It teaches us that it’s never too late to start over and live your best life. Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda? Powerhouses. Icons. Heroes to young women for decades. This show has so many fans of so many different ages and I could talk about this show for HOURS if you’d let me.

9. Gravity Falls: Spooky and funny and SO MUCH LORE! My gothy nerd heart sings every time I watch this. Such a beautiful message about growing up, too, which is one that always makes me cry. The buildup to the final moments of Weirdmegeddon 2 is incredible...I have a tattoo of Bill Cipher. And I’m a simp for outstanding animation. I could watch this show a trillion times and never grow tired of it.

10. The Proud Family: I’m black, so. And I was in elementary school around the time this originally aired so it taught me a lot of really important things about race and personality and sticking together as a family. Also: Beyonce and Solange did the theme song. What else could you ASK FOR!

Honorable mentions: Blackish, Moesha, Sister Sister, A Different World, 30 Rock, Arrested Development, and New Girl.

I nominate: Anyone who feels so inclined! (I also don’t have 10 mutuals that I interact with regularly oops)

#grace and frankie #the proud family #daria #pen15 show #moesha #sister sister #gravity falls #sex and the city #bobs burgers #what we do in the shadows #king of the hill #how i met your mother

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rosiesared · 3 years

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time, mystical time, cuttin' me open then healin' me fine

a fic i wrote for @ladrienjune :D read on ao3:

Summary: Another letter. Each item was accompanied by a short message, handwritten in a font that was common yet simultaneously unique because it came from her.

In them he learned that she was an apprentice to a seamstress in the city, and the small shop where she spends most of her days was typically where she writes her messages, in short breaks interspersed throughout a laborious workday. Her favourite thing to eat was the pastries from the bakery across the road from where she lived, and that that was why the pages always had the aroma of macarons or croissants.

...

Or the time when, following the removal of Gabriel Agreste as king, his son, Prince Adrien, is locked away, in fear of him having been in on the plan, and a girl who goes by Ladybug tries to convince him that there are still people out there who love him.

(full work under the cut) @miraculousfanworks

... There it was again. Her insignia, woven in a bright crimson thread. A little ladybug, its wings spread, as if preparing to fly. As if preparing to take him far away from the prison that bound him.

Sometimes he would say that he was not fond of the fact that during his time in his cell, he was permitted free correspondence from people in the community. Some wrote saying they hated him, saying he was no better than his father, that he should’ve been executed just like the former. Some wrote to say that they still support his father’s rule, and that, if he permits, they are fully willing to break him out of prison and reinstate an Agreste monarchy.

But yet, there were the ‘good’ letters. The ones that felt like a flicker of sunshine brightening up the darkness that was his evenings. The ones that gave hope that not everyone in the kingdom saw him as a willing accomplice of his father. The ones that remembered his, albeit irregular, visits to the town, his meeting with the townsfolk, and the positive image he left on them.

The same visits his father made sure to stop as soon as he could, in favour of a marriage to a foreign princess.

Adrien rubbed his fingers along the red stitching, taking a few seconds to admire the intricacy of the ladybug’s wings, the detailed patterns encompassing the spots, each one special, each one unique, before slightly turning the black hat inside out, watching as a scrap of tea-stained paper fluttered down to the dirt-covered floor.

Another letter. Each item was accompanied by a short message, handwritten in a font that was common yet simultaneously unique because it came from her .

In them, he learned that she was an apprentice to a seamstress in the city, and the small shop where she spends most of her days was typically where she writes her messages, in short breaks interspersed throughout a laborious workday. Her favourite thing to eat was the pastries from the bakery across the road from where she lived, and that that was why the pages always had the aroma of macarons or croissants.

Even though he was never able to reply; the guards wouldn’t have permitted it; he greatly looked forward to her correspondence, wondering who was such a nice person to offer someone who was essentially a stranger handwritten words and gifts crafted by her own fingertips.

Sometimes, he even foolishly let himself imagine the possibility of the two of them meeting, and him being able to tell her how much happier he was because of her, and how grateful he is.

...

The gifts continued to come, even after what has to be at least a year into his incarceration. She had been getting more reckless, lately. Instead of the clothing items, she was leaving freshly made goods, which she promised were baked by her own hands, on the sill of the poor excuse for a window in his cell. Although he had to get, inventive, for a lack of a better word, in how he acquired such items, he drastically preferred her cookies to the stale bread or cold drink he got given each night.

Sometimes he thought he could hear a satisfied hum from outside as he ate his latest present, smiling as the taste of good food, something he had lived so long without, ran down his mouth like a stream, drying up far too fast for Adrien to salvage the feeling.

Still, the letters continued. She told him that her apprenticeship was about to end, and she, along with her family, was looking to buy a small storefront for her to start up her own place. She said this on a page filled with roughly-sketched flowers, a beauty in a way that was hardly ever found within the gaol walls.

She told him that, even though her parents weren’t forcing it too much, the topic of finding her a suitable partner has been brought up far too many times for her to count, and that she didn’t see much appeal in any of the young men hoping to court her. That, foolishly, she was holding hope out for an old friend to whisk her away.

A part of him- even though there was no way it was possible, a part of Adrien stupidly wished that the old friend was him.

...

One evening she left him a hand-drawn sketch. He immediately recognised the younger version of himself, all bright eyes filled with an innocent wonder life has dimmed with him, hair messed in the way it would get after his mother took him with her during her town visits. He remembered being allowed to play with some of the young children that lived under his father’s rule, and this photograph hoped to capture a moment from that. Next to him stood a young girl, her hair tied into pigtails, freckles obviously darkened by the summer sun splattered over her nose. He remembered her, the bakers’ daughter. She was one of his favourite people to play with, and he remembered thinking of her as a good friend.

Was this her way of telling him who she was?

Try as he might, he could not recall her name, however, the years following too much of a toll on his growing mind.

Behind them was what, if the drawing was coloured in, he would expect to be a luscious green garden. He could almost hear the soft gurgle of the Silver Stream behind him, its waters ebbing and flowing from its source on a peak near the palace, bringing prosperity to all the land with its path it touched.

Until his father exploited the connection it created, adding an extract from the leaves of nightshade plants to end the lives of all the kingdom’s livestock, forcing increased reliability on imports sanctioned by him. This was the start of a disastrous food shortage, and a merciless famine.

Remembering King Gabriel’s actions, Adrien felt his hold on the sketch tightening, squeezing, compressing, suffocating the memory, until, once he returned to himself, the picture and the happy memory it sought to encapture was no longer recognisable, the pencil marks blurred.

He didn’t look at it again that night, or for many nights following.

...

The gifts stopped for a while, Adrien would, just after the sun went down, look up to the little slit in the wall, or watch the guards making their evening rounds, hoping, praying, begging to someone who would listen that she hadn’t forgotten about him.

He could swear he heard someone walking outside, their body crashing through the bushes which lined the prison chamber walls, their voice muttering under their breath. One time he convinced himself he heard his name mixed in with it, but that was just wishful thinking, why would anyone come for him? It had been so long since he had last stepped foot outside, the wall which he began to tally the days on had overfilled long ago.

...

“Whatcha doin’ there, handsome?” A female voice rang out from beyond the slot.

“Who- who are you?” He asked, standing up and moving towards the wall.

“Some know me as “you,” others as my name, and even fewer as Ladybug.” The voice flew over his head as she rolled into the inner corridor, her face looking up at the bars.

Oh. So she’s even prettier in real life then.

Her hair was braided, two stems from either side of her head fusing together at the nape of her neck, in a style which he knew to have been in fashion over the past few years, and she was wearing a work dress traditionally associated with well-established seamstresses.

“Ladybug? So you’re the one who has been leaving me gifts all this time.”

“Well, yeah. But I was hoping you remembered me from more than just that.” Her eyes brightened, and she moved to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, stopping once she realised that her hands only met empty air. “But did you like them?”

“I love them.” He said earnestly, his cheeks warm, sure that she’d be able to see the pink on them were it not for the poor lighting of the complex.

“Wait, love? As in, the present tense?”

He moved to a corner of the room, peeling away an old jacket hastily thrown to reveal a pile of hats, scarves, jackets, gloves, and lots and lots of paper. “Yes, love. They were the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.” He turned back to her. “All the gifts I got back when I was in the palace because I was the prince couldn’t even begin to live up to what you’ve given me. I feel like your gifts, Ladybug, they came from the heart, and that means a lot more than you’ll ever know.”

She looked away then, her voice quieter. “They did. Come from the heart, I mean.”

“Really?” It was one thing to think it, but to have it confirmed was something else entirely.

“Mmhm.” She smiled at him, then. “We were friends, once.”

“Oh yeah! The drawing!” His mind flashed back to the events that had transpired the day he saw it. “I- may have destroyed it, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know a lot has happened since then. If you ever need someone to talk about it to or anything, I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, of course. Even though we haven’t properly spoken in a while, I know you’re a good person.” She locked eyes with him then, glare burning with passion. “You are not your father, you’re so much better than him, and don’t you dare let anyone convince you otherwise.”

It was then that he truly paid attention to her eyes, they were such a unique shade of blue, vivid and bright, captivating, they made him pay attention to her whenever she spoke.

Only one other person had eyes like that.

Her name rushed back into his brain, locking into place as if it had never slipped his mind.

Marinette. The daughter of Tom and Sabine, and one of his closest friends growing up.

Judging by the look on her face, she was aware of his realisation, and happy with it too.

“I wish I could break you out of here, it’s not fair to you that you’re being punished for a crime you didn’t commit.” She shook at the bars indiscreetly in between them, as if her strength alone was enough to reverse the decision of an entire proxy government.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve kinda given up all hope of magically being let out though.”

“I’ll tell you what: one day, I’ll come back with everything I need, and I’ll help you escape, and we’ll go live in the mountains together.”

“But, I can’t ask you to do that! It isn’t fair to you.”

“It’s fine, really. I’ll manage. Besides, this way, I’m keeping my promise to you.”

“Promise-.” Adrien was transported back to the palace gardens.

...

It was the annual festival, the day where Queen Emilie always invited all the local children to come onto castle grounds for a day. Adrien and Marinette were sitting in a corner, surrounded on all sides by leafy green hedges.

“Marinette, do you think we’ll always be friends?”

“Yeah, duh. And even if for some reason the world breaks us apart, I promise I will always try and find a way back to you.”

“And I promise I’ll do the same.”

...

“But- but we were kids then! I couldn’t possibly ask you to still hold yourself to that.”

“But I want to, Adrien, and I’ll always want to.” She lowers her head, pointedly watching her feet scuffing her shoes against the ground. “And, you’ve read my letters, right?” She peers at him through her lashes.

He turns away, hand on the back of his neck, fighting a blush that threatens to vividly bloom on his cheeks.

“Mmhm, I have.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, a loud bell rang out, and Adrien could hear the footsteps of guards swapping over their shifts.

“And I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Marinette said, jerking upright and pivoting in the direction of the entrance she came through. “I hope to see you soon, Adrien.”

“Me too. And Marinette?”

She looked back, smiling.

“Thank you. For tonight, and the letters, and the presents, and just, everything.”

Nodding at him, she left, just as soundlessly as she had come, leaving Adrien clutching onto the promise of a better future, one with her by his side.

#cookie writes #ladrien june #ladrien june 2021

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doctorlaelia-ffxiv · 3 years

Text

never let you go - part 2.

[[ read part one >here!< @benes-diction for mentions of the Beanies! ]]

I allowed Cato Lucretius to start officially courting me come spring in Garlemald... which doesn’t mean much, and does little to make dents in the snow, but it still felt warmer, somehow. His presence was warm. At times, he was like the soft glow of a candle in a dark room, providing a sense of safety and comfort. Other times, he glowed so brightly that I thought that he might be a supernova, too big for this world altogether.

To say that I was in love with him would be a difficult thing. I was very fond of him, for a while. We got along tremendously well, and he was good at making me laugh. Our honeymoon period was sweet, and friends sighed over what a lovely pair we were, and I agreed with them. Cato Lucretius was a perfectly amiable, enjoyable sort of man to be around, who gave excellent kisses and was an attentive sort of lover, who could provide conversation that stimulated the mind and be a quiet place to rest, too.

At least, at first. All that glitters is not gold. Sometimes it’s just a very pretty plating put over something rusty.

In the summer, Cato Lucretius invited me to move into his apartment on the outskirts of the university we both attended. He was a literature major with a schedule that was far less packed than mine, considering I was still taking classes while conducting my residency at the hospital to enter into neurosurgery . But it worked, I suppose. He was something of a “house boyfriend,” you could call it. He made meals and kept our shared space clean, ran hot baths when I had a long day at work, would call me on the nights I couldn’t return. And he made a point of bringing me on dates, where we were able to make time for it, to expensive restaurants and pretty museums and lush greenhouses and towering libraries.

Being old money from Garlemald came with a bit of status that Cato Lucretius frequently enjoyed. He liked the balls and the parties, and he enjoyed the luxuries of the finest foods and wines, and he liked to talk, very much, about the plights of our countrymen in a senseless war for a government that only wanted dominion rather than peace... and his words were pretty. They were nice to listen to. He could be fantastically passionate about things, he could grab a whole room’s attention with his vivacity and silver tongue, and I enjoyed listening to him on those summer evenings where the world felt like it belonged to us.

For the first time in a long time, I was happy. I was twenty and finishing the last leg of my residency - the youngest in generations in Garlemald to achieve such a high position so quickly. It was an honor. It was a feat, of countless sleepless nights and many frustrated tears and many, many joyous victories. And Cato Lucretius would stay up with me, during the time we were together, to celebrate or to mourn, respectively. And then things just... started to feel like they were shifting. I remember it starting to feel different in the autumn.

The warmth was starting to fade, like it was chasing the seasons.

“You’re brilliant,” Cato Lucretius would tell me as he smiled, as he brushed my hair from my forehead as I nursed a glass of something strong on a rare day off. “You’re the smartest person on this star, Laelia.”

He said it so frequently. At first, I thought it was sweet. I liked being acknowledged for my accomplishments more than my looks. It didn’t feel like he looked at me like a piece of meat. To him, I was his equal - more than his equal. And that, maybe, was the problem. Cato Lucretius was putting me on a pedestal I didn’t try to get onto, and slowly... Slowly, but surely, it started to tarnish the way that he looked at me.

“You never have time for me.”

That was how it started. It caught me off guard, as we stood in the kitchen and made dinner together. He was leaning against the counter and staring at the floor as he sipped from his whiskey glass, one hand braced behind him with the sleeves of his red sweater pushed up.

“I always try to make time for you,” I had told him, and I had frowned, because I was confused. I was... I am a person that grew up quickly. There were intricacies in people’s words and meanings that I wasn’t able to pick up on at the age of twenty, when my whole life had been dedicated to how brain functions but not, exactly, the emotions that run through them, too.

“But it never works out, does it?” Cato Lucretius shot back, looking at me with pained and angry eyes. “When’s the last time we got to go out? You said you would come with me to my colleague’s party the other night. And you forgot, didn’t you?”

Accusation after accusation as I stood there with a ladle in my hand and my lips parted, because yes. Yes, I had forgotten. But I hadn’t meant to. The day he was referencing was nonstop. I hadn’t even been able to come back to the apartment between surgeries. Older, wiser me would have been able to do something, to put this man in his place. Twenty year old Laelia just wasn’t sure what was happening or what she had done to make him so angry.

“Yes,” she had said, and that’s what it feels like, as I think about this turning point of a night now - like I’m watching in third person. “Yes, I forgot, but... but I told you that I wasn’t able to leave, Cato. I’m very sorry, I didn’t realize that it was so important to you, but--”

“I’m making a big deal out of it, aren’t I?” And just as quickly as he had been angry, he was smiling at me, and I felt... unsettled, in a word. “I’m sorry, Laelia. Forgive me. I suppose I must have had a bad day today.”

Whiplash. That was the day it started - or, at least, the day I began to notice it starting. Cato Lucretius was changing in how he spoke to me, in how he looked at me, and so was the regard he held me in. What was once my ‘brilliance’ was my ‘cockiness,’ and what was my dedication to my work was a force driving us apart, no matter how hard I tried to yield to his requests.

And all the while, this man was starting to fail his classes. Professors were sending back essays with bundles of criticism. He was slipping up, and the golden boy with the flawless smile that I met at the ball in the winter was now beginning to lose his gentleness and his geniality, unless he was drinking. And when he drank, all the venom he felt for me would come spewing out.

“You think you’re so smart,” he would sneer as he slouched in his chair by the fire. “You made a big splash, and now you think you’re too good for anyone, don’t you? What’s going on that has you out at all hours? Are you having an affair?”

“That’s enough,” I had snapped, slamming my glass down on the counter. He raised his voice at me, and I raised mine. Our fights became infamous in the apartment building. I had never been the type to shout. That wasn’t the way to get a point across, but no one infuriated - and hurt me - like Cato Lucretius did. He made my ice turn to fire, my quiet and composed way of dealing with things seem unhinged and furious.

And it was becoming clearer and clearer that any support he had for the Populares was... surface level. Certainly, he was prepared to speak out against the oppressive government, but... I have to wonder if that’s because it was the popular opinion amongst our circle. He clung to his status and the wealth of his parents in a desperate sort of way. I often wonder how much of anything he spoke passionately about that he really meant, and how much of it was manipulation to make him look good. I fear that the answer would be troubling and disheartening both.

A warm, sunlit garden that we had planted in the spring was starting to die come the fall. Our honeymoon period was over, and I didn’t know what to do.

Many times, Cato Lucretius would coerce me into bed, to have sex that was angry and rough, that screamed that we hated each other in those moments. I never really said ‘yes.’ I just gave in to his nagging, to make him be quiet, to stop accusing me of affairs that didn’t exist.

“If you loved me...”

He loved that one. ‘If you loved me, you’ll sleep with me. If you loved me, you’d make more time. If you loved me, you would stop asking me where I go late at night.’ ‘If I have to trust you, don’t you have to trust me?’

The difference is that I never came home smelling of someone else’s perfume or cologne like he did, or with a wine that he didn’t drink still clinging to my lips.

Giving up Cato Lucretius was difficult. He was nowhere near as creatively gifted as he wanted to be, and if I’m being honest with myself, I have to wonder if the vague similarities he shared with my Cato are what made me stay. They wrote, and they were both like light - even if Cato Lucretius’ light was rapidly fading - and they both, at one time, made me feel safe.

I remember curling up on the bathroom floor and simply sobbing into my arms, overcome with a grief that was too unbearable to speak aloud. More often than not, I would say Cato Lucretius’ name and think of Cato Benes - of the soldier boy who had paid the ultimate price, of the one in all of my dreams, who dried my tears when I slept and told me everything would be alright.

Often, as things got more difficult in my relationship, I dreamt of that farewell ball for Cato rem Benes. I dreamt it over and over again - arriving late and anonymous in a beautiful gown, and making him laugh, all with the knowledge of what was to come that I was forbidden to speak. And the dreams ended the same - me, forcing myself to leave Cato rem Benes alone on a balcony before collapsing in the gardens and being overcome with grief.

Those are the dreams I would wake from in tears, sometimes screaming my anguish, begging to please just bring me back to that night, so that I could tell him not to go, to plead and block him from his departure if I had to--

And it was easy to lie to Cato Lucretius about when I screamed the name ‘Cato,’ because I could tell him I was having nightmares of something terrible happening to him. But maybe part of him knew. Maybe a part of him had always known that my heart was never fully with him.

I still don’t think, though, that I deserved his cruelty for it. I was young, and inexperienced in so many things, and mourning the loss of someone who had so deeply impacted me as a young girl. Even seeing Cato rem Benes’ parents were difficult. Seeing Lucius in a hospital, or sitting and listening to one of Theodosia’s performances... I always kept up with them - quietly, and in the shadows, but I tried to. My heart broke to hear the stories of what Caius was becoming. I wept bitterly when Solina left, knowing how deeply the family hurt when their children hurt, knowing just how the loss of Cato rem Benes had affected him.

And there was a part of me that felt like it knew more, too, like... I could sense something in the future. Of course, I was a woman of science. Looking back, yes - in a strange way, and thanks to kami meddling, I did know. I knew the painful endings and the happy endings both, but to not be able to explain those feelings was often agonizing. And the more my relationship with Cato Lucretius began to fraction, the more I felt it.

The more I felt that something just hadn’t ended right, that a book that was meant to be closed had simply been paused.

The day I found his love letters from another woman beneath our bed and his collar stained with a coral lipstick that I wouldn’t wear came almost as a relief. Of course, it broke my heart. Spring had come around again, with a surprising melt in the snow. We had spent a year around each other, committed to each other - or, at least, one of us had been committed to the other. When I asked how long, just how long had he been betraying my trust, he was vague. When I asked how many times, he had simply shrugged, staring into the fire.

“How many hours were you too busy being brilliant to give me?”

“You’re casting yourself as dependent and lonely to get out of being accountable for being a dickhead,” I had told him, tossing the letters that he’d so obviously read over and over directly into the fire. “For being the worst of men.”

“We could try to fix this, Laelia,” he had said, running his hands over his face before standing up to face me, to try to reach out to me. “I messed up, darling. I messed up so badly, but if you give me another chance--”

“Haven’t you heard, Lucretius?” I asked him, smiling. “Goodness, I thought you would have, but... I simply just don’t have the time to give you that. I have very brilliant and much more important things to be doing than wasting my godsdamned time on this - you manipulative, lying, tiny pricked bastard.”

When I slammed that apartment door with a box of my things in my arms with that man crying like an infant, it was liberating. I was free of his cruelty and his coercion. I suppose I could thank him, though, for the beginnings of the spine that I became so famous for.

For the spine that Cato rem Benes will always love me for having. And Cato rem Benes is, was, and always will truly be spring - the true herald of new beginnings, of promises that the long winters would end into a blossoming, glowing new world.

#ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #writing #tw relationship abuse #sort of #?

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hija-del-trueno · 4 years

Text

Golden Hour

Anidala Week 2020|Day 5 - Song Inspired

Author’s Note: This shelter at home got me to hear some new music that is way out of my usual...so I fell in love with Kacey Musgraves and this is what resulted. Please enjoy

It took awhile for Padme to get used to Coruscant. If the universe could peek into her world they would know that when she first moved to Coruscant to join the Galactic Senate she was homesick for about six months and would spend most of her nights crying. Naboo was nothing like Coruscant.

The first time she went to Coruscant was when she graduated from the Apprentice Legislators program. Her and her young colleagues all received medals for becoming junior senatorial advisers and they got to meet Senator Palpatine. As they arrived, she remembered being scared of falling off the landing platform into the abyss of the lower levels. Padme would ask herself what was at the core of Coruscant. Where was the floor and what was it like? She never really cared to find out.

Being the ecumenopolis that it was, Padme got lost in its artificialness. There were no green soft pastures, no roaring waterfalls, no flaura, and no fauna. Only skyscrapers and endless amount of speeders. The sky was filled with smog on any particular day and don’t get her started on the smells. It was perhaps the planet that never slept.

Eventually she realized she could not resolve anything with being homesick and decided to bring her home to her. She began making 500 Republica as much of Naboo as possible. It was rare that you would see her anywhere else after work, because she would immediately head for home and bask in her own little Naboo.

But most recently Padme discovered something she absolutely loved about Coruscant. She was not sure how she had missed out on it before. Golden Hour. The period of daytime shortly before Coruscant Prime set. From her view, she saw the beautiful hues of soft yellow and orange glowing. It almost seemed like time stopped and the whole world bowed to the sun.

“Doesn’t this remind you of something?” his husky timbre broke her from her reverie.

All that I know, is you caught me at the right time

“Mmm a lot of things,” she said as she leaned into his arms behind her.

Keep me in your glow

'Cause I'm having such a good time, with you

“Like what?” His cheek brushed against the side of her face.

It was moments like these she cherished the most. The time between her initial excitement of seeing him again and the worry that would engulf when their time was running out. She’d jump his bones when he came to her and she would cry when he was leaving. But this time in between was precious. It was normal. The waking up together and having breakfast together. Learning all his intricacies. Like him sitting in a room and reading a data pad or watching the latest Podrace in his sleep garments. It was this normalcy that she enjoyed the most because it made her fall in love with all of him, even the most annoying parts.

And now it seemed routine to bask in golden hour with him, at least when he was back. They would usually lounge in the veranda, which she rarely ever liked to do in fear of being caught.

Don’t you know?

That you’re my golden hour, the color of my sky

By the gods was he more handsome in this glow! She had turned around in his arms to see his face. His wavy dirty blonde hair sparkled and his face looked more toned, chiseled in this light. Her hand hovered right by his cheekbone, almost scared that it would fade away.

“What?” He smirked, laughing at her inquisitiveness.

“You’re so handsome,” she whispered without hesitation. Padme knew she was beautiful, but she honestly felt so fortunate that her husband was just as beautiful.

“What? Me? Scruffy nerf-herder from Tatooine?”

“Yeah you,” now it was her turn to smirk. “I think you were wrong when you were a boy?”

Anakin’s face scrunched in confusion. “How was I wrong?”

“I think you were wrong about me being an angel. I think you are the one who is an angel”, she smiled.

He bellowed with laughter.

You've set my world on fire

And I know, I know everything's gonna be alright

He grabbed her face and kissed her. “You are making fun of me!”

“Haha never! I’d be much too frightened to tease a strong, powerful, Jedi, General of the war such as yourself.”

Anakin blushed, “Now you’re just throwing back all my immature one-liners back at me.”

The sun was setting in and twilight was emerging. She twisted out of his embrace and turned her head as she was walking back inside, “Well it worked didn’t it.”

I used to get sad

And lonely when the sun went down

Padme wondered if she could pinpoint when she first started to enjoy golden hour. But she couldn’t. She supposed it happened naturally. Prior to being married, Padme would work, work, and work. She would reread and rewrite her policy proposals and speeches and so forth.

She knew she had a reputation of being boring and a prude. Her handmaidens sometimes pushed her to go to galas and ceremonies. She’d go and have such a dreadful time. Occasionally, she’d meet with Bail and Breha but soon enough she became the third-wheel. Now when Anakin was around she’d go with him and when Anakin would sense Obi-Wan was overbearing she’d invite both of them with her.

But it's different now

'Cause I love the light that I've found, in you

Nights stopped being so lonely. Sometimes she’d cook and have a nice romantic dinner. Other times they’d sneak into a diner in the lower levels.

She stole a glance at him. He had thrown his big legs and feet on her lap.

“Are you uncomfortable? I’ll -“

“No! No, you’re fine,” she grabbed his legs before he tried to move them away. He looked at her surprised.

“You’ve done an awful lot of staring today,” Anakin murmured.

Padme huffed, “Can’t I stare at my husband. He’s only here for a limited time you know.”

Now it was Anakin’s turn to huff. “Well knowing you, I’m sure you’ll find some sneaky way to put yourself in the middle of the action with me.”

It was true. She could seldom sit still knowing Anakin would be away for so long and in constant danger.

You make the world look beautiful,

I thought I'd seen it all before

But looking through your eyes

It looks like paradise

Something dawned on Padme at that moment. She understood why golden hour had become so important to her. It was because Golden Hour was him!

Everything of Golden Hour reminded her of Anakin. The sun shining in its biggest splendor, just like him. She had been to many planets, and had experienced many beautiful sceneries, but having Anakin topped even Naboo’s beauty.

Now even Coruscant, became beautiful, because he was here on it with her. Anakin was the color of her sky. Many women would fall through attraction and sure, she was very attracted to him. But Padme unequivocally loved Anakin. Loved his sense of fun and adventure. Loved his bravery and his want to do kindness for those less fortunate. She loved his sense of wanting to learn and even his stubbornness and weak patience. He was the right amount of him, for the right amount of her.

She had thought she was meant for duty and duty alone, but Padme had not been truly alive or as passionate until she met him again as a man.

Considering golden hour didn’t last very long, she would hurry home everyday yearning to see the sun. As the sun set, Padme’s heart yearned for him, wherever he was, but she knew that soon he’d be back and everything would be alright.

You're my golden hour

The color of my sky

You've set my world on fire

And I know, I know everything's gonna be alright

#anidalaweek2020 #anidala #star wars #anakin skywalker #padme amidala

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nikryderr · 4 years

Text

daybreak (rod)

a/n: i am very... meh about this one, but when i heard that RODAW was happening, i had to throw something up for my favorite boy. it’s written in the second person because... i just vibed with it???? LMAO idk. as always, your comments / likes / reblogs are very much appreciated. i apologize for any typos in advance, i think i wrote this in like 4-5 hours so it is a very raw draft. i might go back and edit it at some point, but for now, please enjoy!

pairings: Colt x MC angst

summary: So much for wanting to die, for choking yourself with smoke and willpower and here he is, doing it all by himself, five-and-a-half feet away.

rating: PG-13

content warning: cancer, infidelity.

length: 2172 words

tags: i am constantly amazed at the amount of quality content that comes out related to ROD. i’ve fallen out of the choices fandom but ROD still holds a special place in my heart and i’m so excited that it’s the same for a lot of other people as well! @rodappreciationweek !

All great love stories begin with a once upon a time, but you think that yours must have begun with an and they lived happily ever after, because with him, you are always drowning in a sea of now, now, now that exists only in a dream.

You smoke cigarettes now. It’s something of a habit, picked up in college after drunken nights out in the dead of a winter, desperate for the quick pinch of sobriety and a flicker of warmth — even now, you remember how much the smoke and tar had made you cough. Now, the nicotine, it tastes sweet on your lips.

You wonder when you’d become so jaded.

Even jarring images of blackened lungs can’t scare you now, not when you'd seen with your soul the images of your own heart, bloodied and bruised to shit. Not when you've seen her father waste away in that bed, antiseptic stinging your nose, your eyes. A year after he’d retired. There’d been plans, big ones for him to buy a home up near Olympia, fix it up himself. He’d bought tickets to Italy. You’d always thought he’d go out in a bang, a furious firework in the sky commemorating his heroism. None of seeing him die in that damned hospital was heroic.

You bring the cigarette up to your lips and inhale, holding your breath. Her gaze focuses on the skyline ahead, gripping the rust-streaked railing in front, the Hudson reflecting ink black, save for the moon’s milky touch rippling ribbons of white on the water. Only when you feel your chest constrict and vision blur that you open your mouth and let the cancer flow out. Hunched over the barrier, you begins coughing and fuck, does it feel good. It’s like being eighteen again, taking that first puff of that cigarette, feeling the smoke’s heat sear your throat in a line of fire.

“You all right?”

You glance up. You already has a bitter retort locked and loaded, about how you’s fucking goddamn fine, that you doesn’t need his help, that there’s pepper spray in your purse that you wouldn’t hesitate using and —

( “Ellie?” )

And your breath stops.

So much for wanting to die, for choking yourself with smoke and willpower and here he is, doing it all by himself, five-and-a-half feet away. You drop the cigarette, three-quarters done, and it’s no wonder that you are breathless because you drowns in him once again, like something familiar creeping up your airways, a release .

“Colt.” You take a step forward, hesitant. You watch his face, in as much disbelief as yours. He’s wearing the same jacket from all those years ago, and you want to laugh, to straighten the lapels and plant a kiss on his cheek and then cry from the youer impossibility of seeing him again, but seven years is too much time. You scrape the toe of your boot against the cobblestone, never daring to look at his face. “How - how are you?”

“I’m good. Didn’t know you were in New York.”

“I am.” You pause, wondering if you should say any more. “I work - I work at a publishing company. I edit books.”

“That’s cool. Good for you, El.”

A pause enters the conversation. For a moment, all you can hear are the distant hum of cars, the white noise of city life. And all you want to do is cry, but not for the same reasons as before, but how stilted their conversations are, how much you do not say that you wanted to for the longest time. Like, I’m sorry, I wish I’d stayed, I wish I hadn’t thrown you out. Like, I’ve missed you, you complete me, I love you.

“Are you in New York too?”

“Nah. Just here to visit my girlfriend’s parents. They live up in Queens.”

Oh.

You want to ask. You want to know her name, her job, what she’s like. You want to know whether the girlfriend has met his mother, whether she knows about his father and Ximena and Toby and Logan, whether she knows about you. In bitterness, you’re reminded of your own boyfriend, the one you’d fought with earlier over a carton of milk — and then it dawns on you that there is a space of seven years that you have been gone, torn from Colt’s life that you don’t know about, and you swallow. The pause is no longer a pause, but a thick hesitation sitting in between you and him, and you struggle to breathe against his presence.

“Listen, Ellie —”

“No. It’s fine — it’s fine, I mean, it’s been seven years, right? You’re allowed to have a girlfriend and a life, and I have a life now, and we’re all fine, really —”

“Hey! Christ, slow down; I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go for a walk. My girlfriend, she’s out with some friends and I was just killing some time anyways.”

You know you shouldn’t. That the time away had been her time to heal, to process their goodbye from all those years ago, and yet — you’ve never been good at holding him at an arm’s distance, even when he’d been three thousand miles away.

So you say yes.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

You’re positive that this is all a fever dream, that there’s no way that Colt is beside you, that you’re laughing with him again, that it’s always when you least expect it that you’re thrown back into the waters again, unsure of where it’d started, and yet, not caring in the slightest.

The stars, you’ve never noticed them in the city. Not with all the light pollution circling high above the clouds, but with him, you’re positive that the stars shine for him, bouncing off the tips of his cheekbones, the tip of his nose. Two in the morning and you’ve never felt held more than this exact moment, not in so long. You don’t know if it’s the warmth of the alcohol or the orbit of his presence, but you're rosy-cheeked, desperate to find his physical touch next.

Leave it to him to jolt you out of your fantasy.

“How’s that boyfriend of yours, huh?”

You swallow. The 40s you’ve both bought in a dingy corner store like nineteen-year olds with fake IDs lie in the paper bags at their feet and the magnified haze of reality swings at your head. Drunk, and yet, too aware of your drunkenness, you squint at him, challenging him with a brashness only marked by the alcohol.

“What’s it to you, anyways?” Cross, you pick up the bottle, taking a swig of the drink.

Colt shrugs. “Curious. I’ve seen your pics with him.”

“You’ve been stalking me,” you reply, smirking.

Shaking his head, he chuckles. “And you can never answer the questions without being a smart-ass, can you?”

“It’s none of your business.” You pull your knees closer, hugging your legs to your chest. “Anyways, you haven’t said a word about your mystery girlfriend,” you challenge. It’s not like you want to hear about her, but the prospect of telling Colt all about your significant other brings a rock to your stomach.

You meet his eyes. Dark, stormy, you think you see a phantom of a frown, emotion betraying his usual aloof demeanor. But as soon as it crosses his face, it flies off into the distance, and he shrugs. “You always do this, Ellie — act like that I’m out to get you, comment on your life choices —”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I the one that couldn’t handle my fucking anger whenever things didn’t go right, because if I remember correctly, that was you.” You bolt up, an accusatory finger thrown his way, and he matches your movement, drenched in passion.

“You’re going to bring that up? Because if we’re going to rehash our goddamn relationship right here, I’d be happy to list all of the things you did that were fucking frustrating to deal with.”

“Oh my gosh, yes. Please do that, I’m begging you,” she snaps back, sarcastic. Hesitating, you turn back to him, fire burning in your eyes. “Actually. Let’s do it. Say it. I dare you. Because if I remember correctly, it was me that left. Not you.”

Silence blankets the two of you, and his face hardens back up, body returning to the slack swagger he’d always carried so easily in his chest. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he crouches back down, eyes aimed towards the water. “Whatever,” he snorts, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He’d always been so nonchalant. Still is, and it’s what you’ve loved about him, the way he could tell you so much more with his eyes than his words. You’d loved Logan too, but he’d always been brash, the brushstrokes of his love painted in broad, simple marks. And yet Colt — the intricacies of his emotions have always been a puzzle that you’d been adamant to unscramble. How the flicker in the corners of his eyelids could mean that he’s upset, or the twitch in the corner of his mouth, deepening a shred of a dimple gave away his happiness. Even now, the ghosts of those imprints remain etched onto his face, and you can tell he longs for something more, a what if still lingering on their tongues.

And like always, you fall into his lips.

It’s a mistake.

And yet — a glorious, beautiful, irrevocable mistake, even more when you feel his lips press against yours. He’s missed me too, you think, and you wonder why he is the only person that has only made you feel like the world is yours. You are drunk, sitting on concrete by the muddy river and yet you want to savor the moment forever, inscribe it into your skin as a tattoo.

When you part, your teeth taste like sin and your hands are drenched in the blood of your guilt, but you’d risk it all to do it again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

One more joy ride on his Cavalieri Novanta, you understand why you loved ( love ) him. Freedom has always come at a price for you, perpetually out of your reach but with him? He makes it easy to be in freefall, and as your hands wrap around his waist, you’re not afraid to hit the ground.

Coney Island is a hellmouth, but at 4AM, the silence is cathartic. You’ve never been to the beach without the buzz of crowds closing in on you, and yet, there is something distinctly wistful about the abandoned park. Still, quiet, with only the creak of the boards underneath your feet, the ocean is there, and yet — you only see Colt. If the Pacific had been an expanse of hope and new horizons, you think that the Atlantic is a deluge of melancholy. There is no room for your sorrows when you’ve finally been let out of your self-inflicted cage. He finds a place in the sand, and you follow along, head on his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me.” And yet, his lips are in your hair, whispering. You think you feel him trace an I still love you with his lips, but you can’t be sure.

“I was drunk.” You still are. You can’t think straight. When you’re with him, all you see is him.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Since when have you cared about whether something’s right or not?” It shocks you to the core, more than you expect. It’s not him. This is not the Colt you know.

“You don’t want this. You don’t want me.”

“What - no. Of course I want you. I want you, Colt Kaneko.” You know you do. You’d leave everything behind, run far away with him until your feet bled. Frantic, you find his face, search for that shred of longing you’d become so familiarized with. You don’t find it. “Run away with me. You don’t - we can go back. We can go back.” Desperately, you think that if you say it enough, you could make it a truth.

“You know, Ellie.” Colt swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. For once, you cannot read the emotion in his face, and it terrifies you. Seven years is too much time lost, and you think about all of the things you’ve missed.

You do know. Leaving him once, you know. That your longing and love for him has always relied on being apart, that two burning hot fires only created a larger fire that threatened to ruin everything else in its path.

“We would’ve burned each other up, El.” He’s closer now, only a breath away. A finger on your cheek, your hand snakes up and holds his hand, memorizing his touch. His thumb swipes away a tear that you didn’t even know had fallen.

He leans in this time.

A first kiss against the Californian sunset, the last rolled into a New York sunrise, you wonder if you’ll ever look at daybreak the same way again.

#playchoices #rodaw #playchoices fanfic #ride or die

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i-jus-wanna-writehappy · 4 years

Text

So Tense

Pairing: M’Baku x black!fem!Reader

Warnings: Tis smut my dudes, cursing as well, and I did not proofread

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I really left for FUCKS ever then came back to write smut and not continue any of my series first

Tags: @thotyana-in-this-hoe @neeadinghugs @purplledumplings

Masterlist Black Girl Insert Series

*. *. *. *.

Your eyes jump open when you hear the shout of frustration from above you. Smiling softly to yourself, you lift your hand to the women drying you, “Thank you very much, but I must attend to my husband. Can you hand me my robe please, Neti? Alna, my braids please.” As you slip the short robe over your naked body, you wait for Alna to secure the last band around your braids to keep the wet mass from hanging heavily down your back.

Whispering a soft thank you followed by gentle kisses to the cheek, you leave the women and make your way upstairs to your room. The sound of M’Baku stomping around is unmistakable, and rather loud. The two men stood outside of your room flood with visible relief when your head surpasses the stairs you’re climbing. “Leave me with him, you can take the evening to drink and be with family.” You tell the men, waiting for them to be out of sight before you open the doors to your room.

M’Baku has his back to you, his large shoulders heaving as he mutters curse words out to the mountains. “I take it the visits were not as cathartic as T’Challa promised.” You call out humorously, wondering when your Great Gorilla will learn that T’Challa will say what he must to get him to attend meetings and do rounds. “Do not like fun at me, woman.” M’Baku grunts, turning his head just slightly, but you see his body has relaxed.

“I’m not. It would have to be funny for me to poke fun.” You reply, closing the doors and chuckling. M’Baku huffs again, but faces you now, his face an almost childish depiction of disappointment. You can smell Wakanda on him. The fresh water, the cool soil, the heat of the beating sun, you can smell them all on your husband, but none of them wash out M’Baku’s own scent. The earthy richness embedded in his skin.

“Are you done?” Your husband asks, his bottom lip puckered ever so slightly. Not bothering to hold back your laugh anymore, you begin to make your way to M’Baku, the Great Gorilla meeting you halfway and leaning into your hug. As you rub your hand in soothing circles on his back, M’Baku sighs, holding you a little tighter. Immediately, you know what you have to do. Ceasing your rubbing, you gently push M’Baku away from you, “Sit down, my king, I will return shortly.”

M’Baku heeds you’re direction and rests on the edge of your bed, watching as you leave the room. Your braids leave a trail of water droplets as you disappear from his sight. The large sleeves of your robe flutter behind you as you make your way downstairs. The soft padding of your feet a stark contrast to the booming thuds M’Baku’s makes when he walks, but that’s how the two of you are. M’Baku is the strong water, crashing against the shore and able to sit calm and beautiful until provoked, and you are the air, crisp and fresh, light in your skin and enough of you always brings a beautiful serenity to those in your presence.

You find the men just where you thought you would, set beside the large fireplace, their colleagues with them as they tell the tales of what they had to endure doing rounds with M’Baku and T’Challa. Laughs bounce off of the walls until Alna spots you and clears her throat to silence Nuka, “Y/N.” She addresses you, bowing her head slightly, the others joining her. Huffing a laugh, you wave your hand dismissively, “Please, do not feel the need to stop on my account. Alna, I actually wanted to ask if you’d retrieve the singers for me and have them join me and my husband upstairs.” The young woman stands and bows her head again, “Of course, my lady. As you wish.” You begin up the stairs before stopping, “Don’t forget your retelling, Nuka, I would like to hear it when I have soothed M’Baku, as I am sure he will not be willing to tell me himself.” He agrees happily and continues his story.

Nuka’s voice disappears quickly as you find your room again. M’Baku is exactly as you left him, and still just as pouty and sullen. “Oh, my king, you need to relax. You do not have to tell me what happened, but I do see that it has made you tense and tight. Come now, let me help you get those hot furs off.” M’Baku walks over to you and stands still so you can begin undressing him. “My Jabari king, you had quite the last few days, haven’t you?” You ask softly as his cloak drops to the ground. The Great Gorilla just nods, his weariness slowly trying to take over him. “And I am sure T’Challa made it no easier on you.” You coo as you slip off his arm guards and push down his grass overlay. “Take off your shirt and go lie on your stomach, I will be right behind you.” M’Baku pulls his shirt off and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into a loving kiss, pouring in all of his appreciation and care before going to lie down.

You’re grabbing the bottle of pleasantly pungent oils from your small beauty table when the small group of singers appears in the doorway. Smiling a welcome at them, you wave the four entertainers into your room, “Close the door behind you, please. By the window is fine, you’ll get a nice draft, and I think the ambiance would be fitting.” You cross paths with the singers as you cross to your bed. Toeing aside M’Baku’s boots, you crawl up and straddle his lower back, pulling a groan from the mountain man. “A nice lulling assortment, please, much like what you’ll perform for my baths.” You command as you get comfortable, eyes on the broad back of your lover.

The singers waste no time, beginning quickly with a piece low and warm to the soul. “What exactly do you have planned for me?” M’Baku asks, turning his head as far to you as he can. “Some tension relief, now relax and let me do some work for you.” You answer, rubbing your oiled hands together as you lean down and press a kiss to M’Baku’s neck. As soon as your hands make contact with his back, M’Baku groans, deep and rumbling in his chest. You hum softly with the songs you know, rubbing any knots out of your husbands back as he releases a grunt here and there.

Running your hands over his back one more time and feeling any tensing released, you stand, “Turn on to your back, Baku, let me get the front now.” As M’Baku turns, his erection under his leather pelt does not go unnoticed, but you don’t acknowledge it, instead lowering yourself back down so your straddling M’Baku’s pelvis now. The Great Gorilla has his eyes closed as you run your hands over his neck, digging your fingertips in just hard enough to soothe his muscles. M’Baku doesn’t open his eyes, but rests his hands on your naked thighs, rubbing .

Your senses open more with each added source of contact, and a fire kicks up in your abdomen, begging you to supply release. But, this is your king’s time of relaxation, and out of respect for the hard time he has had, you shove down your desire and drag your fingertips down his chest. M’Baku growls under his breath, the rumble making your hands and other intricacies of your body tickle. Sure to control yourself, you push your hands gently just beneath his waistband and massage there, first pressing your thumbs, then running the tops of your nails over the skin until your hands emerge from under the material and up to his collarbone.

Having fallen victim to the ambiance yourself, you completely forget about the singers being present at all, until M’Baku’s hands still so they’re gripping you and he begins to rock you back and forth over his pulsing erection. A huff of amusement passes your lips when you find you’re being moved to the rhythm of the soft tune the singers are pouring their hearts into. You keep your cool and stay at a leisurely pace as you continue, but you could not be more relieved with M’Baku’s neediness and it’s, luckily, equal thirst to yours.

Rocking your hips, slow and strong, you bend and kiss M’Baku’s collarbone, flicking your tongue out to taste some of his scent, his journey, his exhaustion, best of all, his need. Your tongue makes a slow trail up to his ear, stopping just at the lobe so your lips can hang there, open, the warmth of your breath and physically hearing your desire making M’Baku shiver pleasantly. His hands move from your thighs to your ass and your teeth latch themselves to M’Baku’s ear.

The rock of your hips has almost become a bounce as you lift them to roll them on descent, enjoying the noises your Great Gorilla can not, and refuses to hold at bay. “Would you like more pleasure from your queen, M’Baku? Would you like for me to push your pelt down just enough? To take you inside of me and let my body give you the relief you deserve?” You whisper to M’Baku, planting a kiss at the end of each question and driving the Jabari king mad. “Would you like that of me, my love?” The sweet pet name paired with the foul acts you’re promising stir up a passion in M’Baku and he pulls you down onto him in a thrust, “Hanuman, yes. Do not tease me, woman.” M’Baku says, gravelly in hopes of pushing an ounce of dominance into the situation for the people watching, but both of you know that he has surrendered himself to you and doesn’t regret it one bit.

His response makes you smile and you squeeze your arm between your bodies to squeeze and pump his length through his layers. “Singers, you have done a lovely job, but lest you feel privy to watching me fuck the king, I would encourage you leave.” You give a choice, but your vulgarity makes it clear that it is not smiled upon for anyone to stay and see the work of the woman that can leave the great M’Baku shuddering beneath her with barely a touch. Once they have all cleared and the door to your room is closed again, you strip M’Baku completely. Standing at the edge of the bed, you look at the large man waiting for you, his legs spread slightly, his eyes fighting to stay open, even now, and his cock twitching on his stomach, hard and lonely. He’s beautiful and he is all yours.

You climb onto the bed and slowly run your hands over M’Baku’s legs as you travel up, touches electric. “Look at you, my king. Shuddering beneath my hands, barely able to keep your eyes open. Take hold of yourself and work while I please the rest of your body some more.” M’Baku wants to argue, you can see it when his eyes widen and he lifts his head, but any disappointments are thrown when your mouth latches to his pelvis and you begin to suck there, licking and nibbling, making the Great Gorilla huff and jerk under you. His large hand is wrapped around his cock and his hips are stuttering, but M’Baku dares not cum before he can feel himself wrapped in the warmth of you. Sweat is building on M’Baku’s skin and his legs are shifting, struggling to keep his seed inside.

“You have sat so serenely with your treatment, my king,” You praise M’Baku, straddling his pelvis again and rubbing your thumb over his lips. Unable to tear his eyes from yours, M’Baku sticks his tongue out and runs it over your thumb, wetting it before taking the entire digit in his mouth and swirling his tongue over it. Pulling your thumb from his hot mouth, you bring it to your clit, opting to just push aside the flap of your robe instead of taking it off. M’Baku nearly drools as he watches you rub his saliva in firm circles over your clit as your hips push against your hand.

A drop of water falls from your braids and onto M’Baku’s leg, pulling his out of his daze and he stops his jerking, “Your king would like to fuck you now.” M’Baku says, sounding more like himself. Opening your eyes that had drifted closed on pleasure, you smile at your husband and remove your fingers from yourself, pushing his hand away from his own pleasure as well.

Eyes burning bright, you look M’Baku right in his eyes as you line him up with your entrance and start to sink. Living up to the stories whispered in circles of gossiping villagers, M’Baku is so thick you can barely fit him. His cock stretches you almost painfully. Knowing what he does to you, while also fighting the overwhelming urge to thrust into you as hard as he can, M’Baku grips your thighs with comforting strength. Smiling your gratitude to your king, you take a deep inhale of breath and thrust the rest of him in yourself, the loud moan leaving your mouth drowning out M’Baku’s curses.

You have to pause for a moment and let his length settle inside you before moving and causing any damage or unnecessary sensitivity to yourself. A handful of deep breaths later, your discomfort begins to subside and pleasure replaces it. “We have to find a way to shorten the time you need to take me in, my love.” M’Baku says, his eyes closed as he pulls you down for a sweet kiss. Laughing, you begin to lift yourself, “Or maybe we can find a way for you to save some of the growing until I have you all the way inside me.” M’Baku joins you in your laughter now, “Maybe we can reach a compromise. You can -” M’Baku’s loud groan cuts off his words as you sink back down, grinding on arrival.

By now, he is sweating freely and your thighs are aching from the grip he has on them to keep himself together. Up and down, you squeeze his cock inside you, relishing in the effort you see it takes for him to not cum in you immediately. The singers have long gone, but you find yourself moving to a rhythm, a song of sensuality and pleasure playing in your head as you bounce on M’Baku. Seeing the tensing of his jaw, you slow your bouncing just a bit, “Would you like to take control, my love?” You ask, swirling your hips. M’Baku shakes his head, not trusting himself to do anything, lest he spill his seed inside you without letting you get your orgasm from him first.

You already know what he’s playing at, so you still completely, “Do not think of me. This is time for you, but it will be for nothing if you are not relaxed. Are you relaxed?” M’Baku takes a deep breath and nods. You grab his tensed jaw and rub circles into it, “Do not lie to me, M’Baku. I do not appreciate it. You have tensed yourself to fight off your orgasm. Do you know what I want more than anything right now?” You ask him, riding him slow and placing barely there kisses to his neck and chest. “Right now, your queen would like nothing more than for you to release your seed into her, warm and rushing. Burst after burst until both you and the seed can no longer fit. All I want is for you to release yourself. I have gotten my pleasure, I want you to have yours. Can you do that for me, M’Baku?”

The Great Gorilla does not answer with words, instead jerking his hips into yours as his orgasm rolls over him like a wave crashing through a dam. And much like you predicted, he spills so much cum inside you that his softening cock is pushed out. M’Baku’s entire body deflates as his orgasm ends, and you place one last kiss to his lips before going to clean yourself off. You return with a warmed towel and wipe M’Baku down, wiping the sweat from his forehead, rubbing any tension from his chest, then you clear his semen from stomach and cock. After you dispose of the cloth, you lie beside M’Baku, letting him rest his head on your chest while you rub your fingers over the tight curls in his hair.

“Thank you, Y/N. You always know how to make me feel better.” M’Baku murmurs as he presses a kiss to your breast through the robe. “I like this, robe. I only have to move the sides away. Very convenient.” His quieting voice clues you in to M’Baku’s drifting, and sure enough, when you look down, his eyes are resting closed. You lie with him a few moments longer until you hear his heavy breaths become soft snores. Then you lift your tired king’s head from your chest and rest it on a plump pillow.

Removing your robe and setting it on the bed, you go to your chest and pull out a warm pair of pants and a soft tunic before letting your braids fall, most of their wetness gone. Leaving your room, you close the door behind you and listen to everyone preparing for dinner. Down the stairs, some of the men and women are still gathered near the fire, now with cups of wines and water. Upon seeing you, Neti jumps up and grabs you a cup as well. “Nuka, I would like to hear of your adventures, if you don’t mind.” You say to the man as you settle with your cup, M’Baku sleeping away the last of his stress upstairs.

#m'baku imagine #m'baku x reader #m'baku smut #smut #black reader insert #black panther imagine #black panther smut #black girl insert series #bgis #mcu imagine #M'Baku

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daemongal · 5 years

Text

Nightlight

So who’s ready for some freaky DT Nero sexytimes?! This fic was written for @fivetail after a headcanon discussion we had. I’m not gonna spoil the details, I’ll leave it for you to find out. Hope you enjoy this shameless smut, with a few hearty dapplings of fluff!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough sex, DT sex, overstimulation, sex pollen (in a sense).

Word count: 6686

Synopsis: Nero confesses to you that his demon has chosen you as a mate and bashfully admits that in order to seal the deal his demon would have to make a personal appearance. Unfortunately the intricacies of the whole thing weren’t discussed in detail beforehand, so things turn out a bit differently than expected...

______________

Nero stood with you in the kitchen with an uncharacteristically serious look on his face as he threw his head back, exhaling before awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. You leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed across your chest, shaking your head slightly with a smirk on your face.

“Oh come on Nero; whatever you need to tell me can’t be that bad. Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me are you, because I have played this out in my head and I can tell you exa-”

“No, I’m not breaking up with you!” Nero interrupted, his expression developing into something more flustered with each word you spoke. “Look; I just don’t know how to phrase this, okay? It’s... embarrassing for me.”

“Hey if this is about the other night, I already told you I don’t blame you and even if you’re part demon it can happen time to time-”

“My demon wants you, alright!” Nero threw his arms into the air in exasperation, before dropping them to his sides and huffing, his eyes focused on the ground avoiding yours. “My demon... wants to claim you. It’s been driving me wild these past few days, won’t leave me alone when I’m around you. I’m sorry okay!” He turned around to face the wall, bracing the counter turning his knuckles almost white.

“Huh...” was all you could muster as an immediate response. You stared at his back for a few moments processing what he just told you, watching the rise and fall of his broad shoulders as he took deep breaths to work through what you assumed was embarrassment.

You opened your mouth to speak again, getting no further than the inhale as you watched his ethereally blue wings materialise from his back. From the glance you saw of Nero’s face, it almost looked as though he was silently muttering to himself, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

You reached out to place a hand on his shoulder but were stopped mid-way. A light pressure on your wrist prevented you from moving any further as the clawed hand from the tip of the wing wrapped lightly around you, causing the hairs on your arms to stand on end at the energy it radiated.

You glanced at it inquisitively. The fear of the appendages wore off pretty quickly after the initial reveal. You trusted Nero with your life, and these were just another part of him that you had become intimately familiar with. The lack of reaction from the devil hunter however had you wondering if he was actually aware of their actions.

Your hand was being drawn up away from his shoulder to slowly move towards his face instead. It pulled you gently until your palm was pressed lightly against Nero’s cheek. He gasped in shock at the sudden touch, immediately noticing the look of bewilderment on your face at the gesture as he noticed the blue encircling your wrist.

You startled a little yourself as you felt a light brush against your own cheek, glancing over to see the other claw reciprocating your touch against Nero, feather-light and gentle.

“Oooookay... so that’s never happened before.” His reaction at least confirmed your suspicions that the wings were in fact acting on their own. You couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your lips.

“Looks like your demon’s had enough of telling you to do something and decided to do it itself.” You smiled endearingly towards Nero’s rose-tinted face as you brushed your thumb against his cheekbone. The spectral hand against your cheek copied as Nero watched on in fascination.

You gently placed your hand over the claws, pushing them closer towards you as you nuzzled them ever so slightly, finding the contact both comforting and relaxing. The hand unwrapped itself from your wrist, imitating you once more to cover your hand against Nero’s cheek and push you slightly closer towards him.

“Aww come on Nero, you’re telling me this isn’t totally and completely the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” He only tutted at your statement, rolling his eyes before muttering.

“Ya hear that bud? Well done, you’re cute. Way to go champ! Big scary demon and she thinks you’re cute. Lucky for her she hasn’t been in my head these past few days listening to your filthy fucking mouth!” The wings reacted almost immediately, crossing in front of Nero almost petulantly as you stood and laughed at the display of him arguing out loud with his inner demon.

“You’re both well suited for each other, aren’t you?” You managed to ask in between laughs as he flicked his eyes back towards you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you momentarily caught a glimpse of a yellow sheen in his eyes, before he blinked, returning them to normal. He pinched the brow of his nose in irritation before sighing again.

“So, what would this so called ‘claiming’ entail? I mean, I have a pretty good idea but you know the logistics better than I do.” Nero snorted.

“Yeah, logistics... sure. Basically, it wants to come out when we’re... ya know.” You cocked a brow at him and his vague, figurative speaking.

“So... you’re gonna trigger when we have sex?” Nero quickly turned to face the wall again, banging his head against the kitchen cupboard repeatedly, and in his embarrassment, answering your question.

You stepped forward, embracing him from behind and nestling your head between his shoulder blades and in the centre of his wings that were now idly resting against his shoulders.

“The way you’re talking about it; it sounds pretty important to you, and to your demon. You know that makes it important to me too, right?” His shoulders relaxed a little, an invisible weight seemingly lifting from them.

“It’s chosen you as a mate, and it wants to be with you. To seal the deal and stop its incessant bitching it needs to be with you itself, not just through me. So yeah, I’d have to trigger.” You weren’t going to lie to yourself, the thought was anything but unappealing.

There was a definite beauty to Nero’s demon, and a gentleness that was vastly different to Dante’s or Vergil’s. When you looked at them, you saw devils; but when you looked at Nero, he always appeared more... angelic.

“But you’re worried that you’ll... that it’ll hurt me right?” Nero nodded in response as you sighed. You moved a hand from his waist, and ran it through the feathers of one of his wings. The claw lifted from his shoulder, stretching out to give you better access as you moved your hand back and forth along it.

“Doesn’t seem dangerous to me. It’s not like I’ve never been acquainted with these before anyway.” You leaned up to his ear before whispering, “I do love it when you let them out to play.” Nero shuddered before spluttering.

“Oh come on, I’m trying to be open with you here! No need to go all weird on me about it. You’ve seen what it can do when I fight. It could rip you apart before I would be able to stop it!”

“Why would it do that?! You said yourself that it wants to be with me. Why would it try and kill me?”

“I dunno! Weird demon shit or something. This is just a cute façade, trust me, this fucking demon’s a freak.” Your grip on his waist tightened with his words of caution at the hypocrisy he was spouting.

“Oh, because you’re much better? You’re acting like this now but you’re nothing like this upstairs or out there! You have a façade too. You know me Nero, and I know you. I’m really touched that you’re worried about me, but I don’t think you need to be. I love you, all of you; and to be accepted by both sides of you would honestly make me so happy.” Nero mumbled something incoherent before spinning on his heels to face you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly against his chest.

“Dammit. You’re not giving me much to work with here with your stupidly convincing arguments.” He sighed through his nose against the top of your head, the warm air batting against your scalp before you felt the soft press of his lips.

“If it’s honestly what you want, you know I can’t say no to you.” You smiled and nuzzled his chest.

You gasped as the spectral claws gripped your thighs, lifting you up as you were prompted to wrap your legs around his waist, following with your arms around his shoulders.

“Misbehaving again?”

“Nah, that time it was me.” He pressed his lips you yours in an all-encompassing kiss, deep and passionate as you ran your fingers through his hair, gripping him tightly with your limbs. You broke from him momentarily gasping, body hot and heavy as you rested your forehead against his.

“Upstairs?” You asked, voice thick and suggestive. He grinned as he started kissing you again, walking with you towards the stairs.

***

Your hands gripped the sheets as Nero’s tongue did sinful things between your legs. His fingers were being pumped in and out of you, curling to hit your sweet spot perfectly each time as his tongue flicked over your aching clit.

“Ahh, shit- Nero. I’m close!” After a few more thrusts of his fingers and one final broad swipe of his tongue he withdrew from you, leaving you hanging over the edge.

You panted heavily, eyes opening half lidded to see Nero hovering over you, his irises glowing yellow as he took in heavy breaths. His winged claws remained wrapped around your thighs, holding them open. You lifted a hand to his cheek to cup it gently.

“Looks like someone wants out.” You spoke softly, Nero’s eyes fluttering as if he was fighting sleep, almost growling from the base of his throat. “You’ll still be there, right?”

“Yeah. D-don't worry. I l-love you. We b-both do.” You smiled up at him as he fought for his last few words. You dropped your arms to the bed either side of your head.

“Come on out then.” At your words there was a bright flash of blue. You twisted your neck and shielded your eyes as a blue hue filled the room. The hands at the side of your head shifted to claws as the bed dipped with his added weight.

As the light faded you looked up, your eyes meeting his intense yellow ones. You'd never seen him this close up before, never able to see the texture of his skin in so much detail; it reminded you of tough leather but you were certain no other creature existed that would share the same complexion.

His long hair fell either side of his face, just barely tickling against your skin, the feathered horn-like appendages on his head framing his face angelically, like a crude halo. You quickly glanced down his body, the light of his chest glowing, reflecting off your damp skin and basking you in blue. His spectral claws remained set on your thighs, his own thick legs settled either side of yours.

You felt enclosed, pinned like a prey creature looking up at a predator. The difference was, it wasn’t fear you felt; your feelings were more akin to exhilaration, as if you were the one on the hunt. The way this powerful demon was looking down at you made you feel empowered, knowing just how much he wanted you sent a rush of need straight to your core.

You tentatively raised a hand towards his face, running your fingers against the soft, white locks before brushing his cheek lightly. His skin was firmer than you had imagined, soft on the surface but with no pliancy, as if leather had been stretched over stone.

You reached towards the feathered horn as his head tilted slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. Your fingers didn’t make contact before he lowered his head so his face was centimetres away from your own. His breath held no scent, it was merely hot air batting against your skin. You licked your lips, unsure what the demon expected of you.

You lifted your head slightly towards his as he lowered his face further into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, taking in your scent. You couldn’t help the way your body tensed, hairs standing on end as you felt his breath against the nape of your neck.

Your whole body shivered as you felt his long tongue run a line from your shoulder, up your neck and over your cheek; as affectionate a gesture as you could have come to expect from a demon. His face remained there in front of yours as he withdrew his tongue, seemingly waiting for you to act.

You swallowed before copying the motion, running your tongue up his cheek slowly, drawing a line from his jawline to his cheekbone, savouring the slight roughness of his skin. A sound reverberated from his chest, a sound that you could only assume was the demon version of a purr as he nuzzled his face against yours.

Seconds later his eyes narrowed, cat like pupils dilating as he stared directly at you. A wave of arousal spread over you as he lifted his upper body away from yours, spectral claws raising to grip your wrists, pulling them up and over your head.

“Finally feel like playing then?” He growled in his throat in response, clawed hands grabbing your legs and lifting your lower half with ease, as if you weighed nothing.

A sinful smile spread up your lips as you felt his long tongue lick a trail from your wet heat up to your clit, before sinking into you suddenly. Your eyes rolled back into your head and a moan escaped your lips as you felt the appendage move inside you, a foreign feeling, but one that made your muscles spasm in pleasure.

“Ahh- fuck, Nero! Holy shit, that feels ahh-” You careened towards orgasm once more before his tongue withdrew, leaving you a panting mess, aching for more. Your hips were placed back on the bed, as one of his wings lifted from you and stretched behind him. A moment and a click later, the lights were switched off, engulfing the room in darkness.

The veins of light coursing through his scales were far more noticeable, pulsing gently, wrapped around his torso and his arms, filling the dark room with a soft, blue glow. His eyes gleamed, the bright yellow strikingly clear among the blue, and his wings casting a light all their own across you. He truly was beautiful; and he was all yours.

Your eyes trailed down his chest before your heart skipped a beat. What could only be his cock, large and glowing has emerged from the plate between his legs. You had to admit, you didn’t expect it to be quite as large as it was, thick, long and covered in ridges; completely inhuman. Your body tensed in reaction as he dragged your hips towards him, pre-cum already dripping from the sizeable tip.

You swallowed as he lined himself up, his clawed wing freeing your wrists to settle around your waist, the other moved from behind him to rest against your face gently, as if trying to comfort you. Nero did say he would be keeping an eye out.

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding in and nodded, meeting his gaze and slowly wrapping your legs around his hips in encouragement.

He pressed the head against you, teasing your entrance slightly, spreading the extra moisture. Your body began to relax, breaths becoming slightly heavier as you felt the delightful stretch as he began to push into you.

The pain, surprisingly, was minimal; a warm feeling taking the place of any discomfort you knew you should have felt. He kept pushing as your mouth fell open at the sensations as he filled you, your walls stretching around the impossible length you were taking.

He pulled your hips closer towards him as he seated himself in you fully with one final thrust, grunting from the depth of his chest as his body shook and glowed with more intensity, his head lulling back and eyes closing.

You felt the warmth inside you as his cum filled you, spreading heat over your body from your core, through your torso to your extremities. Within seconds, your body became impossibly hot with need, arousal flowing through you with an intensity you had never experienced. You mind and body was only able to focus on the feeling of his twitching cock nestled in your heat.

Your cheeks were flushed as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, prickling every nerve in your body simultaneously, sparks of electrical sensitivity shooting through you where his body touched yours. You were aching everywhere, suddenly needy for his touch, for movement, for anything other than the stillness you were being tortured with.

“N-Nero... please.” You begged between breaths, your voice not sounding like your own laden with an indescribable lust.

The hands on your hips tightened as he held you still, pulling his own hips slowly backwards before slamming back into you with a growl, making your mouth drop open. He repeated the action, pace increasing with each harsh thrust as your walls throbbed around his length.

You could feel every ridge as they pressed against you and every drag of his cock against your sweet spot made you see white. Your body had never been this sensitive before and it was driving you wild.

“Oh fuck- Nero, you feel –ahh, you feel so good.”

The spectral claw moved from your face, running itself across your neck and down towards your breast, leaving burning trails in its wake as if they were setting your nerves alight. As the claw grabbed and began kneading the flesh, your legs tightened around him reflexively.

The small adjustment in angle caused white hot bliss to surge through you at the next thrust as you tumbled over the edge into a sudden climax. You chanted his name as your walls clamped around him, body spasming at the intensity of your orgasm as you gripped onto the sheets for dear life.

His movements never let up as he rode you through you high with seemingly no intention of stopping himself. You forced your eyes open to glance up at him as your bodies began to move in perfect synchronicity.

Your eyes didn’t make it as far as meeting his own before they widened in pure fascination at the sight before you. You had noticed his cock glowing when you first saw it, but you didn’t expect to see it glowing from inside you.

With each thrust your abdomen bulged as his length pushed against you, the glow still remarkably visible through your skin. From below your navel, the blue light pulsed with each movement, reflecting off the hand you lowered to tentatively press against it.

“Ho- holy shit. I didn’t -ahh, didn’t think that was even possible.”

Nero growled as you pressed against your abdomen, feeling the pressure against your palm as your flesh rose from the tip of his cock. You noticed his movements stilled, remaining within you in with an equal curiosity as he watched your movements.

“Fuck that’s so hot.” At your words his clawed wings raked their way down your body gently as you arched your body towards the sensations, before they moved to rest against the small of your back. Suddenly, you were lifted from the bed and pulled towards him, his hands on your hips holding you firmly in place, the claws against your back pressing you into his chest.

Your legs tightened around his hips and your hands gripped onto his shoulder ridges as he held you in place, his yellow eyes boring into your half-lidded ones. He ran his tongue up your cheek once more, leaving a burning trail in its wake as he lifted you off his length to the tip, before slamming you back down, sparking every nerve in your body at once.

It took only moments before you were a panting mess once again, being helplessly lifted and speared repeatedly on his cock from tip to base, your whole body jolting with the impact as you were slammed down against him, broken moans being the only noise you were capable of making.

Your arms moved frantically to grip onto anything for purchase in your haze, as your fingertips felt numb from the tingling of your rapid pulse. As he jerked your body particularly roughly, your hands reached for his head, grabbing his hair and balling into a fist as your muscles tensed in pleasure.

He threw his head back and howled, his body shuddering as he stilled in you once again, the familiar sensation of spurts of cum hitting your walls overtook your senses as more waves of heat spread across your body.

“Fuck, Nero; what- what the hell’s in that shit? You-you never told me demon cum could d-do weird shit to me.” Your body relaxed back into the wings hold as you gasped for air, your walls clenching eagerly around his unmoving cock.

Your body started to act on its own as you gripped back onto his shoulders and began gyrating your hips, needing something, anything more than the stillness he was giving you. You looked down your body with heavy breaths at the glowing where your bodies joined.

Feeling the wetness against your skin you tentatively reached a hand down to run your fingers against the moisture before lifting the hand back up. You gasped at the sight of your fingertips glowing, running your thumb across your lightly tingling fingers in fascination at the luminescent fluid now coating them.

You hesitantly brought the fingers to your lips, your curiosity spiking and lack of self-control becoming more prominent in your mind. The moment your finger touched your lip your hand was pulled away roughly and pinned behind your back, followed quickly by the other.

Nero let out a disgruntled whine as his hands gripped your hips, stilling any attempt you could make to move, as his winged claws held your arms still. A wicked grin spread up your cheeks as you noticed his gaze momentarily flicker from your own, a flood of sudden confidence flowing through you.

“You’re really getting bashful now, of all times? Aww, did I make the little demon blush?” His eyes narrowed, and grip on your wrists tightened to the point of being uncomfortable. His face inched closer to yours until you could feel his hot breath against your face.

“Careful little one.” His voice rumbled deeply from his chest, otherworldly and tinny as your hair stood on end, your smirk faltering under the realisation that those words were not spoken in Nero’s voice.

“You may be feeling bold,” he lifted you up his length once more, your body being moved for you as you shuddered helplessly, “but know your place.” His words along with the feeling of fullness once more sent shock waves up your spine, as he restarted mercilessly impaling you, thrusting his hips to meet yours as he fucked you roughly.

Your arms were lifted over your head, held at the wrist by a spectral claw, stretched as far as they were able. You turned your face into your upper arm, shielding yourself from his piercing gaze, moaning and gasping against your own skin.

A sound akin to a deep chuckle echoed through the room as a clawed wing gripped your chin and twisted your face back forwards.

“He chose well. I’ve been whispering to him for days. Filling his head with thoughts and fantasies, making him all but dream of doing this to you. I’m glad that you do not disappoint.” Your heart was racing, panic starting to set in as the pleasure shooting through you with each heavy touch of your hips against his was becoming almost too much.

You'd never experienced such over-stimulation before, but your body was screaming for it, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as your whole body was shook from the continuous impact. The claw against your chin trailed down against your throat, over the dip of your collarbone and over your breast.

As the tip of a claw scraped against your hardened nipple it became too much. You screamed as another wave of climax hit you, every muscle in your body tensing as you twisted and tugged at the grip on your wrists, your vision going blurry as your walls clamped impossibly tightly around the still moving cock.

“Ahh t-too much! Please! Nero- fuck!” Tears trailed down your cheeks, your body betraying your minds better judgement with each movement of your legs, continuing to pull him into you. You knew you should be exhausted, that you should have been spent well before your last climax, that you couldn’t possibly continue towards your peak once again yet you could feel the familiar sensations brewing inside you again.

“So stubborn for such a helpless mortal.” Suddenly you were being lifted off him, unable to stifle a groan at the sudden unpleasant emptiness you felt before being turned and thrown like a rag doll back towards the bed. His grip on your wrist never loosened, opting to settle your arms against the small of your back once more as your face hit the mattress, your breaths hot and heavy against the bed sheets.

His hands lifted your hips as you were propped onto your knees, ass in the air, fluids dripping out of you obscenely. You bit into the sheets to stifle your voice as a finger ran over your folds, teasing at your entrance as you moved your hips towards the touch.

“Just give in, submit to me and allow yourself to truly be mine; we’re so close.” You whined in your throat as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. You forced your eyes open to meet his gaze, observing the devilish, toothy grin on his face as your hips began to move of their own volition, seeking out more friction. His claws dug into your hips, deep enough to leave bruises and red pin pricks of broken skin.

“Moments ago you were begging me to stop, now; beg for what you really want. Submit to me.” Your eyes were wet with tears, more flowing freely from the sheer need, from the aching and the emptiness you felt.

“P-please... please...”

“Submit!”

“Please fuck me! I’m yours, just do what you need to do! I need you, please!” His wings tugged at your wrists, pulling your upper body from the mattress into the air back towards him, suspending you by your arms. His face came to rest against your shoulder, breath hot against your skin.

“Much better. Now, to make you mine.” He seated himself back in you in one long thrust as you threw your head back with an unrestrained moan. His tongue ran once more across your skin, from your shoulder, across the crook of your neck, up along your throat.

You tilted your head to the side to give him more access before letting out a strangled cry as his teeth suddenly sunk into the skin of your neck, the movement of his hips beginning again as he lapped at the sore skin in wake of leaving his mark.

You were panting, throat dry and raspy as he slapped his hips against your ass, holding your body in place as you were lost in the pleasure. On opening your eyes, you could have sworn the room had become lighter, the darkness seeming thinner somehow before your eyes were drawn downwards to your own body.

Your skin was glowing, covered in luminescent blue lines, across your breasts, your stomach and your thighs, marks left behind where Nero’s touch once was. As your eyes caught sight of the obscene bulge below your navel once more, you began to chuckle, voice breaking from each thrust, delirious from the pleasure and exhaustion beginning to set in.

“I never- ahh- never imagined I’d be here, l-like this when we first met. This is- ahh- just fucking insane. I love you- both of you, so fucking much you crazy bastards.” At your words, his hips slowed, his thrusts becoming drawn-out and more controlled.

The grip on your wrists loosened as your arms were lowered to rest on the back of Nero’s neck before letting them go completely as you held onto him, his hair brushing over your knuckles.

His face nuzzled gently into the crook of your neck as his chest rumbled slightly, his wings wrapping around your body, enveloping you in a pleasant energy as the hands on your hips guided you gently back and forwards to meet his thrusts. You let your head relax back against his chest, relishing the languid and tantric movements of your bodies against each other.

“W-welcome back baby.” You muttered drily, heat rising in your body as he dragged himself against your walls, stroking your sweet spot with each long thrust as you chased a final, impossible peak.

“T-together, please.” You mumbled the last coherent words in your mind as you were reduced to gasps and moans, his movements gaining intensity as you began to clench around his cock. A few hard, well aimed thrusts were all it took to push you over the edge as you balled your fists into his hair and screamed, his name hoarsely falling from your lips as your muscles tensed through the waves of pleasure.

You felt him still within you, his body shuddering violently against your own as he came a final time, your body falling limp against his. Your head was spinning, dazed and short of breath, gasping for air as you were being carefully lowered to the mattress, before the wings disappeared from around you and a heavy thud hit the mattress next to you.

“Oh my god fuck.” Nero’s voice broke through the sound of your breathing, as your mind tried to process the fact that he had at some point returned to human form and that your body had recovered from the effects of his demon.

You ached: everywhere. Your body was limp and your limbs felt like they didn’t belong to you. There was a moment of silence before you felt frantic movement from beside you.

“Oh fuck, are you ok- oh what the hell is this shit?” You glanced at your arm that lay in front of you, noticing the bright blue encircling your wrist and your forearm, the glow pulsing softly as it does on Nero’s body. You swallowed and winced at your sore throat before attempting to speak.

“Just about, and I dunno. Some weird demon shit I guess. Looks like your claws have done something freaky to me.” Your skin tingled as he ran his fingers gently across your back, presumably tracing the lines that were left there.

“Woah...” You heard him exclaim in amazement as the brightness of the glow increased at his touch, sending a pleasantly warm rush over your body. All of a sudden, your entire body relaxed, the loud ache of your muscles fading to only a dull throb of exertion as a sigh left your lips, taking with it the tenseness you were holding in your shoulders.

You moved your arm experimentally, twisting it and looking on in fascination at the bright claw marks that ran around your wrist and up to your shoulders, smiling in contentment as you turned to face your lover.

You could see his face clearly through the darkness and the red tinge running from the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck was also extremely obvious. His eyes widened and his lip quivered ever so slightly when they locked with yours. They flickered from one to the other as his mouth attempted to form syllables with no sound.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Just... go look in the mirror over there.” He twisted his neck to move his gaze from yours as he buried his face into the pillow in apparent embarrassment.

You lifted yourself to your feet carefully, worried that your legs would give out but to your surprise, you’d never felt lighter.

“Man, I feel great.” You thought out loud as you wandered over to the mirror that covered the wardrobe doors. “In fact, this is the best I've felt in a-” You sucked in a breath, unable to finish your sentence when your eyes met the figure in the glass.

“Woah...” You copied Nero’s earlier sentiment as you gazed over your own unrecognisable image.

Your body was covered, from your face to your ankles in the glowing, blue marks. You tentatively touched your jawline where the first of the glowing patches lit up your skin. You followed them down, eyes tracing the intricate patterns as they flowed against your body's curves and contours; down your neck and across your breasts, into the dipped curve of your waist and over your hip, down the inside of your thighs.

You twisted your lower half to see them running over your buttocks, down the back of your things and entwining around your ankles. You didn’t realise half of the places he had been exploring while you were at his mercy, but there was barely an inch of skin unmarked by him.

Your gaze travelled back up to your face as you blinked, stepping closer to the mirror to look into your eyes as your brow furrowed in concentration. The normal shade of your irises had been replaced by the same glowing blue that spread across your skin, fading and brightening periodically in time with the rest.

You ran your fingers over your neck where the memory of his teeth was still fresh in your mind. There were faint pin pricks of red where they must have pierced your skin, but oddly no bruising or scarring.

You heard Nero groan from the bed as you inspected yourself thoroughly in a perverse fascination, noticing now the glowing fluids that started trickling down your thighs. You glanced over to him, noticing now that he had hidden himself fully under the bed sheets, only his eyes peering through a gap.

“You do know I can see you looking right?” As quick as a flash the sheet was now over his head as he muttered away to himself as you started heading back towards the bed.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed. I... really like them; the marks I mean. They’re... beautiful.” You meant it as well. The image of yourself in the mirror would not be one that left your mind anytime soon. The roughness of his demon’s actions paled in comparison to the warmth and comfort you now felt, embraced in the memories of his claw's touches.

“I have to say though, I don’t remember him being so... handsy.”

“Oh don’t make me say it.” Nero’s voice was faint, muffled by the sheets. You weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or his demon. He sighed in defeat before poking his head back out sheepishly.

“They aren’t just... from tonight. They’ve just, never been visible until now. But now that we’re... mated, they show.” Mated; the word was so animalistic, yet so perfect to describe what had happened between you both. One question still played at your mind however.

“So... are they there for good? Am I literally going to look like a walking glow-stick all the time now?”

“No... no. You’re vision with the eyes and all will fade along with the marks. The only ones who’ll be able to see them... are demons. It’s so they... know you’re... mine.” Your face flushed at his words, starting to match his own as you looked to the floor; you were definitely in this for the long haul now then, you realised.

You smiled softly before walking over to the bedside and kneeling down beside it. You ran your fingers through his hair again, before leaning over and pressing your lips to his softly, enjoying the gentleness of the contact. You rested your forehead against his as his arms appeared from under the sheets, wrapping around your waist loosely.

“I’m sorry if it hurt you. I hadn’t planned on letting take that much control but you... kinda goaded it.” Your face flushed at the memories of your actions.

“Hey! That was as much your fault as mine. You’re the one who got embarrassed and tried to stop me getting a little tas-”

“Oh c’mon, please don’t remind me!” Nero interrupted bashfully. “Look it didn’t exactly give me the whole run down of what would happen. This was all new to me too. I hope it wasn’t... too weird.”

“Oh it was definitely weird, but maybe not too weird. I kinda hope... that’s not the last I see of him. Wasn’t exactly the worst experience ever.” You felt his hands twitch against your skin at your words before he muttered to himself.

“No, not now! Geez take a hint.” You laughed to yourself, realising this ended just as it had started, with Nero arguing with his inner self.

“He could do with working on his charm a little though. A few nice words wouldn’t hurt next time.” Nero groaned again, shuffling over in the bed and pulling you up beside him, holding you close and tightly against his chest.

“Let’s just go to sleep for now, ‘kay? We’ll talk it through in the morning when this glowing shit’s worn off.”

“Fine. But don’t go running off on me! I know what you’re like when you get like this.” Nero’s tough exterior never did deal with embarrassment well, you knew fine well from past experiences that when his fight or flight set in when he felt like this, flight would always win.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever... I love you.”

“I love you too.” You nuzzled your face into his chest, the faint pulsing from your own skin acting as a pleasant ambient nightlight behind your eyelids, slowly lulling you to sleep.

***

You thundered down the stairs in your nightgown onto the shop floor, eyes darting around the room in search of Nero.

“I swear to god Nero, I knew you’d do this.” A familiar laugh from the couch caught your attention as you looked over to see Dante lying with a magazine over his face, shit eating grin visible from below it.

“He left about an hour ago. I may or may not have teased him a little.” You sighed, gripping the bridge of your nose in your fingers in blatant irritation. If anyone was capable of getting under is skin, it was his uncle.

“Oh for fuck sake Dante. What did you say to him?”

“Just explained to him why I decided to crash down here last night when I got back from a job. Didn’t wanna disturb you both is all.” He pulled the magazine from his face before sitting up and looking over to you, his grin widening even further.

“And besides, I made a few assumptions to him. He got all flustered and stormed out, but...” you noticed the flicker of red in his eyes as he gazed over you as if assessing you, “looks like my assumptions were correct. Congrats on the mating; can’t believe the kid beat me to it.” Oh hell no! Your face heated up as you flushed with embarrassment, your normally witty retorts too far out of reach.

“F-fuck you!” You turned on your heels and stormed back up the stairs.

“You’re both too alike for your own good, ya know!” Dante shouted up the stairs after you, followed by laughter as you slammed the door to your bedroom, throwing yourself face down onto the bed, no longer annoyed at Nero but understanding fully now why he left.

Oh well, you thought with a smile, at least Dante knows who I belong to now.

________

So yeah, a conversation about glowy marks on skin and aphrodisiac demon cum led to this... such an enabler. Also who said demons don’t do aftercare, eh? :3c

Hope you all enjoyed.

If you’re interested, here’s a link to my [masterlist] and [ko-fi]! Likes, reblogs and support are always hugely appreciated!

#nero x reader #nero #nero x you #dmc #devil may cry #overstimulation #spicy #lemon #my fic #fanfiction #i actually had so much fun writing this #DT Nero is a treat!#DT!Nero

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nowhere-collective · 3 years

Text

Within these Walls My soul and being are caught in a constant battle Fighting for my right to love A right so preached about as good Preached about as holy Preached about as precious But denied to me and my lover Sitting within these walls In the pews we listen to the pastor Who preaches about commandments Condemning those who disobey Predicating a future of fire and turmoil I am reminded of the commandment of love How it is the “greatest of these” While mine is banished and forbidden Forgotten within these walls I fear this fire and burning may be my fate What if my end comes before I can also preach the commandments? With my love being at the center Lifted as welcome and holy Instead of being stomped on Like the remnants of a flame being put out Extinguished within these walls My queerly beloved heart That encapsulates immense amounts of passion Immense amounts of fire Immense amounts of beauty It wishes to unravel the systems that tell me I’m dirty It wishes to flip the script To be seen within these walls To show those who have been hurt From the commandments targeted at them Like arrows notched in a bow and fired from a distance That these commandments can be their bandage Their medicinal touch Their soul’s restoration Their salvation within these walls We can become holy We can become worthy We can become valued We can become loved We can become Children We can find community We can find a Savior We can feel renewal We can feel welcomed Even as we remain queer Queer within these walls

Caged, Released, Caged Again When I think about my hometown When I think about high school I think about pain I emote anger Frustration Anxiety Sadness Fear Frustration for feeling Anxiety for failure Sadness in grief Fear of being myself Suppression and acting became my strengths Suppressing my queerness Suppressing emotions Acting strong Acting confident Acting like I had it figured out Pretending that everything is okay When it was the opposite I craved affection I craved love I craved to be recognized I questioned my existence every day Is something wrong with me? Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be normal? I cried to and yelled at the God I knew Seeking healing from this pain Wanting to love myself When everyone around me Said I was wrong Said I was faking it Said I was disgusting My family and friends Throwing slurs like frisbees Made me creep back into this hole Fall back into this shell that I thought I’d shed Where I would cover myself with another mask Layers upon layers of false identities Continued to cover my face

Until the sheer weight of these masks It began to weigh on my shoulders My true face and soul hidden To the point that when I Threw the masks off I didn’t recognize myself I looked into the mirror and cried Because a stranger stared back at me I found him to be beautiful But wish I had been able to see him all along It took months and years for me to be able to get to know myself To learn the intricacies of my own body my own soul my own mind my own humanity This escape from the hell that imprisoned me Allowed me to fly out of this cage Like a bird escaping captivity Spreading my wings and soaring Flying high and showing everyone around me The human that I truly was Until I returned back to this place I returned to my cage And shut the door to not let anyone see this person who was… emotional beautiful queer me I am a domesticated animal In the back-and-forth cycle of freedom Knowing when to run and when to return home Being trained and caged by my surroundings Like I am in a constant state of fetch Back and forth forever and ever I am hopeful for the day When I can be released from this captivity To never return To the cage To fly wild and free

Spreading these wings Showing my true colors For the rest of my existence

Justis Mitchell

Within these Walls and Caged, Released, Caged Again

Free verse poetry

📍Chapel Hill, NC

These two pieces are explorations of queerness and religiosity, presented in the form of free verse poetry. They grapple with the imposter syndrome and repression of self that occurs from being a queer person in a family that does not support queerness. The struggle of wanting to be queer, but being shunned and persecuted within religious spheres is also a struggle that is discussed artistically through these two work. One of these uses a common refrain to set the piece in location of within church walls, while the other plays with line symmetry and the growing and shrinking of thoughts, as the body grows in freedom of queerness, while also shrinks back into its hiding in contexts. These two works attempt to shed light on the internal struggle that queer bodies go through in certain scenarios where they don't feel supported, loved, or wanted in spaces. These works could be paired with certain artistic images that represent self-discovery, repression, and turmoil, and clips of the poetry could be shared at different times in an effort to make this an ongoing battle, to showcase the struggle that occurs day in and day out.

#art #poetry #nowhere collective

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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Wings & Water (Part One)

Title: Wings & Water

Part One

Author: Gumnut

Feb 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “I needed to get your attention.”

Word count: 5451

Spoilers & warnings: Marks & Wings AU, Wing!fic, shapeshifting, Virgil/Kayo, Gordon/Penelope (eventually)

Timeline: Sometime post-‘John’. All the fics can be found on Ao3, the timeline order and artwork can be found on my website.

Author’s note: This is the universe I write when I’m feeling tired, off or unable to write anything else. It is little more than self-indulgence usually, an exercise to find my writing mojo, to play with sensation and description. So tired one night a few nights back I scribbled down what was supposed to be just a scene with Kay and Virgil on the beach. The characters apparently had other ideas and now I have another WIP ::headdesk:: Why do I even try? So, I’ve given up trying to write it in one go and now offer you Part One instead of a complete fic. Fortunately, it does not end on a cliffhanger or anything and could almost be considered complete except for one serious plot thread which is actually quite subtle anyway..

Many thanks to both @scribbles97 and @vegetacide for the read throughs and advice ::hugs you both:: I got wibbly and those who read my Tumblr may recall the ‘floppy’ Virgil post I made in the middle of writing this. Here be the Floppy Virgil I was talking about. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

It had been a long mission.

Virgil hit the locker rooms with a drawn out sigh. The irrational part of him just wanted to shed uniform in a trail behind him, but his disciplined mind refused to let him. So his baldric was shed and stowed for cleaning and redeployment along with his tool kit and harness. His boots did get kicked under the bench and he would no doubt get words about it later, but at this point he didn’t care.

His mark ached.

And his mind was a battlefield for angry brothers.

He shed his uniform, draping the heavy material over the bench. His black undershirt quickly followed and the cool air of the room hit his skin causing it to goose pimple in response.

His groan as he bent over, stretching the dark lines sculpted into his back, came from somewhere deep inside. He needed to lift, but god, he was tired.

A glance at the shower stalls and he longed for the water drumming on his skin, but the cubicle was too small, too confining. He had to stretch out.

The smallest of groans.

It had been a rockslide. Steep mountain side. Small village.

Children.

He closed his eyes.

They didn’t often lift during rescues. The whole mystic behind their wings was something that either terrified the rescuees more or resulted in amazement and a hailstorm of questions, most of which none of them had time or care to answer.

And god forbid if the media was there.

Which in this day and age only had to be a phone.

A little boy had fallen from a height and Virgil had reacted on instinct. Lifting his massive eight metre span within an eye blink, he launched himself into the air just in time to save the toddler from the sharp rocks below.

The film was still showing on loop on CNN.

The questions of his heritage, their history, previous shots of the Tracy brothers flying...it all came up again.

None of them were happy.

John and Eos did their best to contain the outbreak, but there were limits.

Virgil just wanted to hide.

Kay was still inbound. Alan was up with John, and Scott was still on site at the rock slide. Gordon had come home with Virgil, but his brother had spent the whole trip mentally kicking himself and the aquanaut had promptly disappeared after the necessary post-flight tasks.

And was currently circling the Island waterbound.

Water.

A frown as he bent over to pick up his uniform. Perhaps Gordon had the right of it. A swim, to rinse the clammy feeling from his skin, to stretch out, to relax.

The uniform was chucked in the laundry chute and he grabbed a towel, throwing it over his shoulder. Deciding his undershorts satisfactory, he headed down to the lagoon.

-o-o-o-

Shadow was a beautiful ‘bird to fly. Kayo had flown all the Thunderbirds at one time or another, but Shadow was just elegance in the air, a ballerina up against the rest of the fleet’s brute strength.

Of course, this had its downsides. She was quiet, but not as strong as her sisters. More prone to engine damage under stress and she could carry much less. But these were small sacrifices to let her dance in the sky. More the bird of prey she emulated than should ever be possible.

Kayo flew out of the setting sun on approach to Tracy Island, killing her ‘bird’s forward momentum and activating the docking platform, ready to receive. As was her practise, she flew a standard sensory loop around the perimeter of the Island on approach. She took the opportunity to double check the Island’s security sensors with those highly sensitive scanners built into her ‘bird.

It was reassuring to see all the check sums add up nicely.

Particularly considering the media shit storm currently underway.

She had been on the other side of the planet, liaising with Penny. But the moment she saw Virgil on the nets...Penny had urged her to go. Kayo had no doubts the aristocrat would follow shortly as soon as she could tie up their business.

The Tracys hated what the media could do to them.

This wasn’t the first time. Probably not the last. But that didn’t stop it from hurting.

She knew Virgil. She knew it would get to him first.

Scott would rant and rave. John would steam in his station until Eos called for help. Fortunately Alan was already up there so would probably drag him down with the first excuse he could come up with. Gordon would disappear into the ocean.

Penny would have to go fishing, literally.

Alan, out of all of them, cared the least. She wasn’t sure why, but the youngest just turned a blind eye and shrugged the rest off. Though she did have some knowledge regarding an anonymous caller on a late night talk show the last time this had happened. It hadn’t sounded anything like Alan, but the presenter had been verbally shredded in a very exacting way.

Alan was a smart young man. He didn’t take well to his big brothers being compared to water fowl or chickens.

It was the chickens that probably did it.

But no one other than her and Eos knew he was responsible and she planned to keep it that way.

As Shadow banked she flew over one of the beaches and Kayo got a glimpse of a figure in the water. For a split second she assumed it was Gordon, but the more familiar and intimate profile sank into her mind as she turned back for docking.

It was Virgil.

Her heart tightened.

It had definitely gotten to him.

She hurried through docking procedures and post-flight, hitting the lockers and shedding her uniform as quickly as possible. She unpinned her hair, threw on a sports bra and shorts and darted through the house and out into the trail that led down to the beach.

It was the same beach where he did his regular workout. The same beach he had caught her out and kissed her silly so long ago.

It was a beach with wonderful memories. No doubt the reason why he had chosen to come here.

She wasn’t quiet on approach this time. Her flip flops cracked twig and gravel alike. She wanted him to know she was there.

She needn’t have bothered.

He was waist deep, staring out into the water. His whole upper torso was cast in the gold from the setting sun, leaving his mark an iridescent intricacy of a starry midnight of lines and swirls across his back, shoulders and biceps. The light couldn’t touch it and, as always, she found it mesmerising.

Her feet reached the edge of the water and the wavelets of the lagoon caressed her toes.

She opened her mouth to call his name, but he suddenly hunched a little and lifted.

Black feathers splashed into the water and he groaned aloud, startling her.

God, he was hurting.

But before she could say anything, his wings unfolded to their full span, flinging water in every direction.

They never failed to impress her. Black, iridescent and just huge. He stretched them out to their full extent and held them there. His arms appeared above his head and he stretched with another groan.

Kayo threw herself into the water, wading in behind him, reaching up to rest her hands on his shoulders, brush her cheek against his soft downy back feathers.

He tensed for just that second before recognition set in and he melted under her touch.

“Kay.” His voice was rough and ever so weary. His arms came down and his wings drooped slightly into the water.

Her hands slid from his shoulders, brushing gently across feathers enough to make him shiver, before slipping up under his wings and arms to curl around his chest where he caught them and held her close.

She exhaled amongst down. “I’m sorry, love.”

His breath came out as a soft sigh, his body wilting just a little more against her. “Had to do it. Had to save him.”

“I know.”

His head dropped a little more and she needed to see his expression.

Ducking, she dove under his wing and surfaced in front of him, pushing to her feet as water ran off her body.

His eyes were ever so sad.

Touching a finger to his cheek, she leant up and kissed him gently.

His response was immediate, drawing her in with his arms, his wings leaving wake as they skipped across the water surface to encircle her. His kiss drew her in, his passion feeding hers and for a moment there, it was just the two of them.

But reality quickly intruded at that thought because it never really was just the two of them.

She broke off the kiss, wrapping herself around him, drawing his forehead down to touch hers. “Tell me.”

Another soft groan and he looked down.

“C’mon, love.”

“Gordon blames himself. He feels he should have been in place to prevent the child from falling. John disagrees. I disagree. But he won’t listen. He’s hurting and I can’t help him.”

She had done her best to understand the three brothers and their connection. They could hear each other. Not words, just sensations, emotions. The impressions Virgil described were ever so visual, so tied into how her lover’s mind worked, they were quite frankly amazing. He spoke of starlit blues and magnesium bright golds when speaking of his brothers. But how he processed these into interpretations of what they were thinking, she did not know.”

“Can you tell where he is?”

“Circling the Island like a lost soul.”

“Penny will be here soon.”

“Thank god.”

She brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek, nails dancing over two days’ stubble. He was so tired. He needed sleep. But she knew he wouldn’t be able to until his brother found some peace.

A decision and she straightened slightly. “Swim with me?”

He leant in and kissed her forehead, her eyebrow, her temple, her cheek...he trailed his lips all the way down to her mouth and again took moments, his tongue slipping in between her teeth seeking hers. His arms tightened around her, lifting her in the water, almost clinging.

Her eyes closed and her only sensation was him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil sometimes wondered how he had survived before finding Kay’s love. Obviously, he had, and he had been happy as a member of an extraordinary family, but now her touch was capable of consuming him, blocking the world out and giving such comfort to his soul.

He broke off the kiss and ran his fingers through her wet hair. Her hands moved to his chest, brushing through fine feathers and hair alike.

The need to rest was aching in his bones, but the tired spark who was his younger brother was fizzling in the back of his mind and the silent fury of John so far above them was a burn that gave him no relief.

He didn’t blame them. No, there was no fault in this, either in the effect or the reason. All he wanted to do was reach out and reassure. But Gordon wasn’t listening, John was still juggling the after effects as he and Eos took out copies of that damned video and the commentary that came with it.

There were no fuzzy or poorly caught video files. Technology compensated for lighting and speed and the footage of himself running, his feathers sprouting through his uniform as he moved was ever so clear. His yell as he launched himself into the air, even the sound of straining wing beats as he took off almost vertically could be heard. He weighed more with all his kit strapped to his body and it had been hard work to get airborne at that angle and speed.

But he had managed it. Caught the screaming child mid air. He had been forced to gain more height to even out his flight before banking in an arc to land beside a screaming parent.

He didn’t speak her language, but the terror in her eyes as handed the boy over was not only for his safety, but for the man who had saved him.

There had been murmuring as he folded his wings and walked away. He had let his wings go and forced himself back into routine. Just another rescue. Just save as many as he could.

But the staring, the wide eyes, the touch of fear, the question of ‘what are you’ that hung in the air hovering over his bent back as he worked to save a young girl.

The whispering.

The remorse stirring in his younger brother.

He could feel Gordon on approach. He wasn’t far away, still looping the Island. Perhaps...

He shook himself and found Kay staring up at him, worry in her eyes. Her fingers, once again brushed his cheek and he kissed them. Hands on her waist, he turned in the water, taking her with him until he was facing the shore, his back to the horizon. He stepped back and let her go.

“Virgil?”

“I need...” He needed her. God, he longed for her touch. But he also needed his brothers. He needed rest.

He took another step back, moving deeper, his wingtips dragging against the swell.

She frowned at him in worry. “Virgil, what?”

A flash of midnight alarm and he let himself fall backwards into the water.

Virgil closed his eyes.

-o-o-o-

This was all his fault. The child had been part of a group of villagers whose homes were on the top of the cliff that had fractured, taking out the the rest of the village below. Virgil had identified the area unsafe with Two’s scanners while on approach and Gordon had been assigned to shore up the cliff edge with nanocrete. Which he had, using a pod. But he had returned on foot, not convinced it was fully secured and filled a few more cracks to make sure the cliff wasn’t about to collapse before Virgil could finish the evacuation below.

His back had been turned to the village behind him. He should have kept an eye out. Several families had refused to leave their homes no matter what John broadcast across Two’s external loudspeakers in any language.

He had seen the little boy out the corner of his eye and moved to stop him, but the toddler had taken a fright at the sight of Gordon dressed in his protective equipment and the long snake of delivery tube in his hands.

He had yelled in caution, but the child only startled more, a mother screaming somewhere off to the left. The little boy stepped backwards...and was gone.

Gordon’s shock screamed across to his brothers and Virgil responded.

As Gordon hurried to the edge, his brother was already airborne, great black wings beating hard to gain height and the intense concentration of he had to do, foremost.

Virgil caught the little boy, shooting up past the edge of the cliff and Gordon in a great black-blue-green streak.

The little boy was screaming.

His brother circled around and brought himself into land gracefully in front of a tearful mother.

She took her son, obviously terrified and hurried away.

Virgil’s shoulders dropped just enough for Gordon to notice before those wings folded and vanished.

People were talking. Muttering. Words of fear. At least one obvious obscenity despite the language barrier. As Virgil approached Gordon, the words grew louder.

Someone threw something.

Virgil helped him finish securing the cliff edge and then they had flown back down with the pod.

Scott was liaising with local emergency services, but the questions being flung at him when Gordon arrived to report, had nothing to do with the emergency.

“I’m sorry, what you are asking is our private business and I repeat we have no comment. Now can we please save these people.”

One emergency services officer was replaying Virgil’s flight on his phone with several of his buddies hovering around.

While Virgil had donned his exo-suit and was shifting rubble off a trapped family not twenty metres away.

Scott lost it in the calm and deadly way only Scott could two seconds later. Another two seconds and all those emergency personnel were fleeing from Commander Tracy whether they could understand him not.

“Is the cliff secure?” Those angry blue eyes were glaring at him.

“Yes.”

A swallow and a red flush to his cheeks. “Assist Virgil, deploy the pod for anything he can’t lift.”

“FAB.”

Gordon spent the next three hours doing exactly that.

Hardly a word was said between the brothers beyond the necessary. Virgil was very quiet and Gordon even more.

John, so far above them was spikes of anger as he wrestled with both the networks and the language on site. Gordon didn’t need a translation of what was being said with his brother so highly tuned to understanding.

And it was all Gordon’s fault.

If he had been paying more attention.

If he had been fast enough to stop the child.

If he hadn’t scared him further.

Gordon did not have wings. The world did not know of his ability and he was damn glad they didn’t. But his gentle brother had been cornered into lifting a handful of times on rescues and every time it was the same. Curiosity and terror.

Scott had lifted in public before as well, but Johnny hadn’t been seen since the attack and Alan had never been seen at all.

Of course, that didn’t stop the press. There was artwork out there guessing what colour both Gordon and Alan’s wings were, not to mention the conspiracy theories surrounding John’s absence.

If they knew Gordon grew fins instead...

They weren’t the only Aves out there, but the ability was so rare, it was a novelty.

The depressive and exhausted cloud hovering over Virgil just drove Gordon’s guilt deeper.

John instinctively tried to calm him, but the man wasn’t great himself, slowly approaching boiling point like a pot simmering on the stove. There was only so much his brother could tolerate and no doubt the slander was vile.

On the way back to the Island, Virgil had tried to talk to him, but by then Gordon was too angry with himself to respond intelligently. As soon as they landed, he was out the hatch and headed to the water where he shifted and let himself go.

He flew through the ocean, his wings those of his eagle ray form. His change muted his brothers somewhat, though not entirely and he had no doubt they could still feel him.

It was just stupid. He could have easily prevented it, yet he hadn’t and Virgil had been exposed again.

The water blurred around him as his thoughts took him in as many circles as those he made around the Island.

He knew the moment his brother stepped into the water.

Virg.

For god’s sake.

He just wanted to be alone. To think.

An emerald spark shot across the ocean at him. It was full of worry and love and so his big brother his heart clenched.

But he didn’t deserve it.

That didn’t stop Virgil.

A wave of exhaustion, fear for his safety and concern followed that spark.

Virgil was such a motherhen.

And he loved him for it.

But he didn’t deserve it. If anything, he should be apologising to his brother. It was all his fault!

Virgil’s mental sigh was almost a physical thing.

Gordon arced away from the Island and further out into the sea.

As he looped around the familiar beaches and outcrops, anger again sparked from far above and Gordon wondered what the hell his star brother had found now.

All his damn fault.

A spark of blue-grey suddenly radiated from Virgil’s direction followed by a wash of relief and desperate love.

Gordon mentally blinked and smiled. Tin had his brother.

Her touch was like fire to the gentle man. Gordon could not feel her at all, but Virgil’s reactions were enough to alert both John and himself to her presence...which led to interesting times...sometimes.

But for the moment, Gordon was only grateful she had his brother in hand. She would look after him.

Gordon dove deeper, revelling in the cool water streaming across his body.

Tin and Virgil had been a surprise to both John and Gordon. A spark of which neither of them had been aware, burst into flame and both of them reeled as their brother lit up.

Gordon felt it was truly something beautiful. Virgil deserved so much happiness and his sister blossomed as their relationship developed. Gordon wasn’t one to pry much beyond blackmail material, but his brother’s joy just overflowed into everything and everyone around him.

So it was with some shock that he received the first flickers of panic and a sensation of...drowning!

The eagle ray shifted mid beat and was replaced with a shark, the mako’s slim and speed-designed form throwing him through the water towards the beach where his brother was now struggling.

What the hell had happened?

It only took moments for Gordon to reach the waterlogged Ave, Tin struggling to pull Virgil out of the water, his fully spread wings hampering her efforts, his weight and drag formidable.

A leap and Gordon shifted mid-air, landing smoothly on his feet in the chest high water behind his brother and grabbing his feathered shoulders as Tin pulled desperately at his arms.

Between them, they got him upright, his wings still hanging in the water.

“What the hell, Virgil?!”

John was sparking all over the place, fear and fury, the astronaut was getting closer. No doubt, heading down on the elevator.

“What were you thinking?!”

They were both supporting him, one on each side, step by step dragging him towards shore.

“I needed to get your attention.”

“What the hell? By drowning yourself?!”

“I knew where you were. I was safe.”

Gordon stopped in the knee high water, waves muttering at his legs. “Why?!”

Tin’s expression was fast morphing from fear to rage and she yanked on her lover causing him to stumble.

Eight metres of black wings were dragged out of the water and onto the sand. The winged brothers were as nimble in the water with their wings spread as Gordon was in the sky in his ray form. In other words, not at all. They weren’t sea Aves. Their wings were not waterproof and while they did possess enough natural oils to prevent any damage to the feathers, they were extremely cumbersome underwater, heavy and that was why all the brothers let their wings go before diving into the ocean.

“Why didn’t you let them go?!” Tin was furious.

Gordon found it totally understandable since he shared the feeling.

A distant murmur off to the east suddenly swelled to a roar and Thunderbird One shot into the Island’s airspace, hovering a moment before rising up in preparation to dock.

John had obviously let the cat out of the bag. None of the three middle brothers could sense the eldest or the youngest.

But that was what comms were for.

As if to emphasise the point, the faint dot of the descending elevator appeared far above the volcanic peaks and made its way down between the jagged rocks.

A matter of minutes and they would be mobbed by brothers.

Gordon stood in front of his brother and glared. “Explain it to me now.”

Virgil’s whole posture was one of exhaustion. His eyes bloodshot, eyelids at half mast, his wings dragging on the sand. “I needed to break the cycle. you were so angry with yourself.” A hand reached out and landed on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Gordon. Let it rest. Let me rest.” Please. And Virgil was folding himself up, crouching down to sit on the sand his wings were covered in.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I did. Again and again. You wouldn’t answer.” A sigh. “Too angry.”

Gordon opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. A pause. “You could have drowned!”

“No. It wouldn’t have gone that far.”

“How do you know?!” Tin was livid. “That was stupid, Virgil. You made me watch and I couldn’t pull you up-“ She broke off, struggling to compose herself.

Virgil reached up and pulled her to him. She resisted, but he insisted, and swearing through her teeth, she folded down beside him. He tucked her under his chin, muttering quiet apologies over and over again, his eyes closing.

Gordon took a step back, sensitive to what had suddenly become a private moment.

He looked up as his sense of John swelled above him, to see three brothers gliding over the palm trees. A rush of backwing breeze as six feet hit the sand.

Scott’s silver grey wings folded and vanished first, followed by Alan’s gold-blond flicker of feathers. John’s prosthetics whispered closed with just enough difference to the others to declare them artificial, ever reminding them of what had been done to their brother.

Gordon stepped in between Virgil and their brothers, holding up his hands.

Scott frowned, eyes barely leaving the pair curled up on the sand. “What happened?”

“He’s tired. Leave it. Probably my fault.”

That only served to narrow his older brother’s attention on Gordon. “What happened?”

John broke off with a flash of frustration and stormed past to crouch beside Virgil, his hand coming to rest on his brother’s shoulder. Murmured words Gordon couldn’t hear, but flashes of emotion danced around his head.

It was then Gordon realised that it wasn’t only Virgil who was exhausted.

“Scott, he did it to get my attention. He was successful, if overly dramatic. Blame it on the day if you have to. I’ll kick his ass later, I promise. If he survives Tin, that is.” Gordon eyed the pair. He knew his sister. This wasn’t over and he didn’t begrudge her at all. Of all the stupid things for his brother to do...

“Are you okay?” Alan’s voice sounded a little small.

Gordon sighed and strode over to his little brother who looked even smaller with the lack of shirt. His bro really needed more sun. Too much time spent in space. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up glowing in the dark like Johnny.

He dropped a damp arm around Alan’s shoulders and grinned as his brother squirmed.

“You’re all cold and wet.”

“Comes with the territory, little bro.”

“Ergh.”

But he didn’t pull away.

Scott eyed the both of them, but his lips thinned anyway and he turned towards the huddle of brothers and sister on the ground.

“Scott?”

His brother turned to him.

“Be kind.”

The man frowned a little before nodding once and turning back, his silver mark glittering in the shadow of the vanishing sun.

-o-o-o-

Okay, it was a stupid thing to do.

John’s hand gripped his shoulder like a vice and the short sharp words cut at him. What had he been thinking?

“I don’t know, John. I just...don’t know.” He curled himself around Kay. His wings were sodden and covered in sand, he desperately need to preen them clean, but so, so tired.

He closed his eyes.

The midnight sun of his younger brother swelled and enveloped him. The intensity of worry, anger and love that came with it, his brother’s fingers on his feathered shoulder and two words.

It’s okay.

Virgil’s eyes shot open, seeking turquoise in the dimming light. “John?”

His brother’s eyes widened. Standing beside Alan, Gordon’s head shot up, a worried query thrown directly at the both of them.

But John still hadn’t answered him. John?

Oh, shit.

What the hell?

But Scott interrupted and John shook his head just enough to stop Virgil saying anything.

Kay was staring at the both of them.

The eldest was oblivious to the entire exchange, his focus still on a younger brother who had done something stupid.

“Virgil, I need to know what happened.” His big brother’s voice was calm, but demanding. “John said you were in some difficulty. That you were drowning. Why were you in the water with your wings lifted in the first place?”

“I...” Turquoise, blue, green and brown were all staring at him in the approaching darkness. “It was nothing.” He looked down shaking his head. Please, I just need sleep. God, please just let me rest.

John straightened, his hand still on Virgil’s shoulder. Voice quiet. “Scott, maybe later? We’re all exhausted. Virgil has been awake for almost thirty-six hours.”

Scott’s eyes glittered in the darkness for a moment as they darted to his middle brother. The commander’s lips thinned even further. “We debrief first thing in the morning.” Back to Virgil, his eyes softening with worry. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Virgil blinked, his tired mind frozen in shock. What? He didn’t have to explain?

Be thankful and move. John was lifting him under one shoulder while Kay had slid under his other one. Somewhat dazed, he found himself on his feet, turned around and led back into the water.

Suddenly Gordon was there with Kay. John stepped back and let Virgil go as they stepped into the waves. They went in deep enough for him to fully submerge his feathers, Kay and Gordon helping him wash off the sand.

They didn’t let go of him once.

God, these feathers are huge. Must be heavy. How the hell does he support them? Tank body, tank wings, I guess.

Virgil frowned and stared at Gordon. What?

They’re darker than night, yet catch the light. Gordon had one gentle hand on Virgil’s forewing and was combing ever so carefully through his flight feathers.

Stealth wings. The thought was humorous, but no smile appeared on his little brother’s face, his frown of concentration dominant.

Virgil continued to stare.

Gordon shook his feathers ever so gently. “Okay, bro, I think I’ve got most of it out. Tin, you’re side done?”

Virgil turned to find his beloved Kay finishing up, her touch soft and loving despite the anger on her face. “We’re good.”

“They’re all yours, Virg.” Gordon moved in closer and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t drown yourself again.” A small smile and he walked back to shore.

Something slipped away with him.

Kay was less liking to let him go, scooting in and grabbing his hand, leading him back to shore. As they approached, the four brothers on shore stepped back and gave Virgil room.

The sand was firm under the soles of his feet.

Kay stepped out of reach and he was clear.

Bracing his feet, he expanded his wings fully, ignoring their tired complaint, and shook them. Leaning over slightly, he pushed them through the air, their huge beats threatening to lift him off the beach.

Water scattered everywhere. Wingdraft caught the tideline detritus and flung it across the beach. Two of his brother complained as sand was tossed with it.

Alan ended up with seaweed in his hair.

But god, it felt good.

He wanted to jump into the sky, to fully stretch himself out, the feel the wind in his face.

“Virgil!”

John and Gordon said his name together, both of them frowning as if twinned. It would have made a great photographic moment if they weren’t projecting so much worry.

Or if Kay wasn’t standing beside them, her expression even worse.

He didn’t need to look at Scott to know what he would be thinking, lack of mental connection or not.

Okay.

He slowed his wings, enjoying the feel of the air rifling through his drying feathers. As the draft lessened, Kay approached him, her hands landing on his bare chest, only to slide up to his shoulders and the back of his neck.

Her fingers climbed into his hair and she brought his forehead down to hers.

“Let them go, love.”

He closed his eyes, his hands landing at her waist. One more stretch of his wing muscles and he shook his feathers before folding them neatly across his back.

Then he let them go.

To say she kept him on his feet wouldn’t have been a lie.

So stupid.

So tired.

Kay slipped under one arm and he suddenly found Scott under his other.

Virgil frowned. “I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

“I’ll let the medscanner reassure me anyway.”

“Scott-“

“Virgil, home, medical scan, bed. That’s an order.”

Mumbled. “Not on duty.”

Kay poked him in the ribs. “Move your ass.”

“Well, in that case...”

Gordon snorted and his brothers and his Kay took him home.

-o-o-o-

End Part One

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #marks and wings

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