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sara-scribbles · 1 year

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The Littlest Dragon (Part 2)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/GN!Reader Summary: Your quiet life as a herbalist is disrupted when you take in an injured dragon Word Count: 7,251 Notes: I might write a part 3 as an epilogue. Hope you enjoy! Warnings: None

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

With no word from Riddle, you go about your life as usual. Unfortunately, Tsunotarou is unable to accompany you on your trips into town due to his sudden growth. Though he gives you sad puppy dog eyes, you firmly tell him to stay home. He’s also a lot heavier so trying to carry him would be too difficult. Though you feel bad, you heed Riddle’s warning of keeping him out of sight.

It is a bit lonely without having his constant presence while you shop, but you quickly get used to it once more. Browsing the shelves at Sam’s, you grab a new mortar and pestle. Turning down another aisle, you nearly collide with another person.

“I’m so sorry!” you apologize quickly.

“Maître herboriste!” You recognize the voice immediately before even seeing his face.

Rook Hunt in all his feather hat glory, smiles widely at you. “Hello, Rook,” you greet. A bit eccentric, you know him through Vil.

He points to your loaded basket. “Shopping for supplies?”

“I’ve worn out my mortar and pestle, so I thought I’d get a new one,” you explain. You note his basket is filled with top of the line beauty products.

“Always so busy, Maître herboriste! I hear you have a little assistant, no?” The glimmer in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Sighing, you nod. “Yes, I do have an assistant. No, you cannot hunt him.”

He gasps dramatically, hand flying over his heart. “I would never ask something like that! I just wish to…observe him a little closer than from the trees.”

“Trees?” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale sharply before exhaling. “Have you been spying?”

“Non! Not spying, just observing.” His bright smile does nothing to make you feel better.

Now you’re starting to realize why Tsunotarou spent a lot of time glaring out the window as of late. He most likely sensed Rook and saw him as an unknown threat. And here you thought he’d liked watching the hens.

Heaving another weary sigh, you shake your head. “I don’t think coming would be a good idea. At least not alone. If Vil needs to drop by, you’re welcome to join.” Saying ‘no’ to Rook is useless. He’d just continue his spying or try something even more extreme if he really felt like it.

“Oh, so thoughtful of you! You truly are so très gentil!” He beams brightly.

After a few more compliments and praises, you manage to buy what you need and leave the shop. Rook can be a bit exhausting at times, but he means well. You just hope Tsunotarou doesn’t decide to roast him the moment he walks through the door.

---

You wake up suddenly from an odd dream. Yet, the moment you try to remember, it disappears. The feeling of the dream remains. Rolling over on your side, you reach for Tsunotarou but are met with nothing. Sitting up, you glance at the open window. Though you leave it open for him in case he ever wants to go out, you do sometimes worry. Sure he’s a dragon and can probably fend for himself, but you still remember how he looked when you first found him.

Getting out of bed, you head downstairs. Taking a quick peek out the window, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. The full moon hangs low in the sky, illuminating the quiet night. Heading out the garden, you inhale the scent of moist grass and crisp air. It’s warm with a slight breeze, a nice night stare at the stars.

Sitting down on the bench swing in the back of the garden, you have a view of the cottage and the rows of plants growing. You idly swing your legs back and forth causing the bench to gently sway. The soft chirping of crickets and buzzing of insects fills the air. Fireflies lazily float by, giving the night an ethereal glow.

So distracted by the sight, you miss the approach of someone until they’re nearly standing a few feet away. Stiffening, you halt the lazy movements of the swing. Looking at the uninvited guest, you realize he’s the naked stranger from last time. Thankfully not naked this time.

He’s wrapped in a long black cloak that matches the inky color of his hair. Sharp, almost glowing peridot eyes gaze down at you. Your gaze lingers on the pointed ears and horns atop his head. His pale skin glows under the moon, almost making him seem ghostly.

“H-hello?” you greet, hesitantly. Unsure what else to say, you at least want to break the staring contest.

He smiles, flashing sharp incisors. “Hello, child of man. What brings you out?” His voice is smooth and low, like a warm whisper.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” you answer truthfully. “What are you doing here?” What you really want to ask is why he’s in your garden. It isn’t because you’re afraid, no he doesn’t give that sort of aurora. You’re genuinely curious why he’s here again. And since he’s not naked, your freak-out meter is low.

He gestures to the garden. “It’s very peaceful here at night. I thought I’d take a walk.” Pointing to the bench, he asks, “May I sit?”

You could say no. You really should say no. He’s a complete stranger, who you first saw in the nude. However, you nod and scoot over. The bench swing dips at the added weight. He quietly tips his head back to stare at the stars.

Leaning back, you observe the night sky. It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to just enjoy nature. Potions and salves keep you busy enough. By the time night comes, you’re dead on your feet. Though with the extra help, you aren’t so tired anymore. Having Tsunotarou around has made your life easier. And less lonely.

You didn’t realize how lonely you actually felt until he showed up. Sure Ace and Deuce visited sometimes, but it wasn’t often. You did correspond with some other people through letters, but it didn’t make up for the lack of physical contact. Though he can’t respond in words to what you say, he understands. He does his best to let you know he’s listening.

“You seem to be deep in thought, child of man,” the stranger interrupts.

Realizing he’s now staring at you intently, you sit up straighter. “Just thinking about stuff…”

“What sort of ‘stuff’ may I ask?” His tone is gentle and curious.

Looking away, you wonder if you’re really going to tell a stranger your worries. However, you don’t take much time to spill. “I recently made friends with…someone. And I realize now that as much as I enjoy my solitude, I was lonely. It’s funny how spending time with someone can change your views so quickly.”

He nods sagely. “Sometimes it only takes a little change to open our eyes.” Glancing at him, he seems to be lost in his own thoughts.

You continue, “I’ve gotten so comfortable with his presence that I’m afraid of what will happen when he leaves. Everyone has to leave at some point. And someone like him probably needs a change in scenery.”

“And have you asked this person if he wants to leave?” he asks, gaze once more focused on you.

You chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. “That would be easier than needless worry, wouldn’t it?”

“He did say humans can be very convoluted about their desires,” he muses.

An eyebrow goes up. “Oh?” Not sure who he’s referring to, you’re somewhat offended. But there’s truth in his words.

He nods but flashes what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring smile. “But I can say you are not like that.”

“How do you know that? We’ve just met! For all you know I could be the worst human you’ll ever meet,” you half tease.

He shakes his head. “No, you’re nothing like that.��

It’s almost as if he knows you. But that’s impossible! You’ve never spoken to him until now. The only time you’ve seen him was a month ago when he was standing naked in front of your chicken coop. You’d remember seeing someone as beautiful as him. Unless he’s someone like Rook, who likes to spy from afar. That sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

“How are you so sure?” you ask, curious to see what answer he’ll give.

His bright eyes sparkle. “I just have a good feeling.”

Since he’s not elaborating further, you can only nod. “So, this might sound rude, but you’re not human, right?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “That’s correct. I’m a fae. You may call me whatever you wish.”

You know very little about fae, though you vaguely recall a lesson on them. A species that had many different types, they’re well connected to magic, though some more than others. With their long life span, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if the fae next to you is hundreds of years old. And one more thing you remember is that fae don’t lie. They might twist the truth to fit their needs, but it’s never a lie.

“I’m not the best at giving nicknames, so I’ve been told,” you warn. Eyeing him, you try to wrack your brain for something. However, nothing comes to mind until your gaze settles on his horns. “Hornton!”

There’s a pause as he blinks twice. Then, he bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. “You never cease to surprise me,” he says once he manages to gain his composure.

Shaking your head, you point out, “I did warn you.” But since he doesn’t seem offended by the name you’ve chosen, perhaps your nicknames aren’t so bad.

“It’s a wonderful name,” he reassures.

There’s a pause before you blurt out, “Why were you naked last time?” You immediately bite the inside of your mouth. It’s something that’s been bugging you for a while now.

“Certain circumstances made it so that I had no clothes at that moment,” he answers, not at all bothered.

“So where’d you get your clothes?” Did he steal them from someone’s laundry? Not that you’re too concerned with that. You do prefer him covered as you’re pretty sure seeing him naked again wouldn’t be good for your health.

“This was made by magic. Unfortunately my magic is being limited right now, or I would have created something more elaborate. And this won’t last for very long.” He plucks at the black fabric, brows creasing.

So he’ll be naked. Again. Covering your face with both hands, you mutter, “So you’re suddenly going to lose your magically made clothes?”

“Something like that.” His tone is nonchalant as if the idea of being naked in front of a stranger isn’t concerning.

This really sounds like a Cinderella moment except it’s way past midnight. A deep sigh escapes your lips. Perhaps fae aren’t as concerned with nudity as humans. Or perhaps it’s just this particular fae.

“Is something the matter?”

You quickly shake your head. “No. All good!” Deciding to take your mind off the topic, you switch gears. “So where’s home?”

“Briar Valley. It’s a small place west of the Queendom of Roses.” You’ve heard of Briar Valley. Though you haven’t traveled since your school days, you have a vague idea of where he’s from.

“It’s noted for its black forest, right?” Something you recall reading about places to visit. You’re not sure if you would want to visit the forest considering it’s said no one comes out.

He nods. “Yes, though I’d suggest against visiting. Humans tend to get lost in the forest unless guided by a fae who knows the area. Even then, some fae can get lost too.”

“Definitely not on my bucket list,” you mumble.

“You should come visit Briar Valley. It’s quite charming. I’d love to show you around.” He grins, eyes glimmering.

Ace and Deuce would probably berate you for this, but they’re not here. “Sure! Traveling isn’t something I’ve thought about, but I wouldn’t mind going away once and awhile. A friend from school, Kalim, has been asking me to visit him in the Scalding Sands. But I always put it off because of work.”

“I’ve only been to the Scalding Sands when I was a child,” he muses. His brows draw together as if trying to recall something. He shakes his head. “I wonder how much has changed since then…”

“We can go together someday.” You can almost hear the duo shouting at you. Maybe you shouldn’t be making deals with a fae. But you’ve always been a bit reckless. You haven’t done anything dumb in a long time.

He smiles. “Wonderful! I can’t wait.”

---

You wake up feeling tired and groggy. Maybe staying up to chat until the sky started turning light wasn’t the best idea. However, it was nice to speak with someone. Your new friend had bid you goodnight once the first rays of light started peeking through the horizon. He promised to visit the next full moon, which you found odd, but chalked it up to fae stuff.

Yawning for the nth time, Tsunotarou chirps worryingly. “I’m okay. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.” You pat his head. “We don’t have much to do today, thankfully. Think I’ll take a nap later.”

However, just as the words leave your mouth, there’s a sharp knock at your door. “Bonjour, Maître herboriste! Vil and I wanted to pay you a visit.” You sigh as you recognize Rook right away. He doesn’t even need to complete the sentence and you know it’s him.

Tsunotarou bristles. “It’s okay,” you reassure. “They’re friends. No need to set anyone on fire. I know Rook has been spying, but he doesn’t mean any harm.” You hold your hands out in a stop motion. He settles down a little, but his eyes remain narrowed.

Opening the door, you give the two what you hope is a pleasant smile. “Hello, you two. I didn’t think you’d be coming around today.”

Vil sighs. “I’ve been working with Riddle, but I decided I needed to see the dragon for myself. And you know why Rook is here.”

Said huntsman gives you a cheery wave. “Oh! Is that the magnificent creature?!” Spotting Tsunotarou from over your shoulder, you step aside to let the two in.

Rook makes a beeline for him. “Simply magnifique! He’s gotten even bigger than last time!” While Rook is busy studying Tsunotarou from all angles, Vil examines him from afar.

“He is a sight,” the guild master murmurs. “From Riddle’s description, the measurements are off. Though he did mention that the creature seems to be growing in size. How much has he grown since the last time?”

Scratching your head, you shrug. “Not sure. I don’t keep track, but he does seem a little larger than yesterday.” Maybe ‘a little’ is an understatement. His head reaches your shoulder when he’s sitting on the floor. You woke up to him taking up half the bed.

“I do sense the magic. It’s as potent as Riddle said. This won’t be easy and we might not be able to do anything,” Vil tells you. His attention is momentarily taken away as he leans in closer to your face.

You inch back under his scrutinizing gaze. “Vil?”

“You have bags under your eyes. What have I told you about getting proper sleep, spudling? Sleep is vital not just so we look refreshed but so we feel refreshed.” He shakes his head. “Tsk, it seems all my lessons on good health have been for naught.”

“I’m sleeping fine, Vil. I just couldn’t sleep last night, that’s all. I promise it’s not a common occurrence.” Eyes darting over to Rook and Tsunotarou, you attempt to turn the conversation away from you. “Anyways, will Riddle be coming over too?”

“This conversation isn’t over,” he warns. “Not today. He has some things with his guild he needs to take care of. I just wanted to come here and take a look at what we’re dealing with. There’s no potion in this world that’ll be able to break a curse of this magnitude.”

Tsunotarou, completely ignoring Rook now, is focused on Vil. The two stare at each other much like the staring contest Riddle had. Vil chuckles. “He’s a smart one. Already assessing if I’m a threat, it seems.”

“Of course! Such a powerful creature recognizes a powerful mage!” Rook pipes in between taking pictures.

“We should head back to the guild. I need to do more research now that I know what we’re dealing with.” He pauses and turns to you, “Can I speak to you outside?”

“I’ll be right back,” you call to Tsunotarou before leading the two outside. Coming to the front gate, Vil stops before glancing back at your cottage. “What’s up?”

In a low tone, he says, “You probably don’t realize this, but that creature in there is dangerous.”

“Aren’t all dragons da-”

He cuts you off. “That’s not what I meant. I’ve seen a few dragons before but none as powerful as this one. The magic radiates off him in waves. I’m not sure if Riddle didn’t notice because of the curse or if something has changed since last time. I’d be careful with him. Dragons are temperamental creatures by nature.”

“Tsunotarou wouldn’t hurt me. At least not intentionally,” you argue. “He’s different and I trust him.”

“Tsk. Still reckless as ever. Just keep what I said in mind.” You can see the concern in his eyes.

“I’ll be careful,” you promise.

---

“What are these?” Horton asks.

You had handed him a bundle the moment he appeared. “Clothes. I had to guess your size, but I think they’ll fit.”

He seems surprised. “For me?”

“I thought real clothes might be better than magically made clothes that only last for a while,” you explain.

You had asked Jack for advice on what to get considering you didn’t know his size. He looked to be a little bigger than Jack, so you hoped the bundle the beastman got together would fit. Jack had mumbled something about underwear while looking away, so you can only assume there’s undergarments in the package.

“Thank you, child of man. This is a wonderful gift.” He looks all too pleased to receive a plain white shirt and black pants.

The way he’s looking at you is like you gave him the greatest gift in the world. “They didn’t cost me much, so it’s nothing big.”

“May I put them on?”

“Sure.” The moment those words are out of your mouth, he snaps his fingers and the outfit he was wearing disappears in a flash of green. “A little warning!” you shout, covering your eyes.

There’s a chuckle and you can only imagine the amused look on his dumb face. The rustle of fabric is all you hear. After a few moments, he says, “I am dressed.”

Pulling your hands away, you’re quite pleased to see that the clothes mostly fit. The pants are a little short, coming a little above his ankle. “You look great!”

He holds up a thin white string. “Is this meant to go somewhere?”

Laughing, you take the tie from him. “Come sit.” While he sits down, you hover over him. “It’s mostly for decoration, but you just weave it through the holes up here to make a crisscross pattern.”

Leaning down, you carefully pull the string through the loops of his shirt. After fiddling for a bit to make sure it’s even, you glance up. “Perfect!”

Your eyes meet and you suddenly realize how close to his face you are. “Thank you.”

He’s probably the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. Sorry Vil. With long, thick eyelashes that brush against his pale skin, you wonder absently if all fae are as beautiful. Up close, you can even see the specks of darker green in his eyes.

“So pretty,” you whisper.

His eyes widen and there’s a sharp intake of breath. Realizing you just said that aloud, you pull back with a jerk. You suddenly find interest in something far away. “A-anyways, I hope the clothes are comfortable. Cotton is good for this weather even at night. I guess I should’ve gotten you shoes too,” you ramble.

“You’ve already given me so much. Thank you again, child of man.” The way he thanks you is almost reverent. “I wish to return the favor. Is there anything you want?”

Quickly shaking your head, you can’t imagine taking anything from him for something so simple. “No, I don’t need anything.”

He frowns. “Are you sure? Aren’t you supposed to return the favor when receiving a gift?”

“Not all gifts require something in return. This is something I wanted to do, so don’t worry about giving me anything.” His brows are still drawn together.

Tilting his head to the side, he studies you. “You’re very strange for a human. Many would jump at the chance to receive a favor from a fae.”

The pressure of his gaze makes you nervous. Looking away, you stare at the grass. “Like you said, I’m a strange human.”

His chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. “Yes, very strange. But that’s what makes you so charming.”

You ignore the fluttering of your heart.

---

Waking up to being half smothered to death by a dragon has become the norm. Tsunotarou has grown so big, your full sized bed is starting to feel too small. At this rate you might need an upgrade. You don’t mind that he’s grown, it’s just waking up because you can’t breathe isn’t the most pleasant.

“I’m pretty sure you're almost as tall as Riddle with his shoes on…” You eye him as he sits patiently on the stool while you stir the cauldron.

Tsunotarou makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not complaining about your sudden growth spurt. Just that we might have an issue with sleeping if you keep getting bigger.”

You toss in a few dried rosebuds. Stirring clockwise three times, you pour in a handful of pink sand. Tsunotarou drops a jar of fresh newt tails in your outstretched hand. You throw in a handful of those before stirring counterclockwise four times. The concoction bubbles and steams before changing colors.

“Hmm… That should be enough for six bottles.” While you pour the potion into bottles, he corks them before putting them on the table in a neat row.

You’re almost done when you hear loud, angry clucking. Then an even louder voice. “GET OFF YOU FOUL BIRDS!”

Glancing at your dragon companion, he doesn’t seem concerned about the sudden commotion. “Alright, guess we get another guest.” You can’t pinpoint the voice as anyone you know.

Taking a look out your window, you can see the three hens surrounding a very angry looking person. He waves his arms around trying to scare them off, but the three ladies just continue to peck at his boots.

There’s another person standing next to him, but he doesn’t do anything. The more you look, the more you think the silver haired one is sleeping. If he is sleeping, it’s quite a feat to do while on his feet and next to someone shouting.

Deciding to try and save your hens, you step outside. You let out an ear piercing whistle, which causes the green haired to stop his shouting. The one sleeping blinks awake as well. The three hens leave the stranger alone to go back into the coop. Though you note that Merryweather gives his boot one last peck for good measure.

“Can I help you two?” you ask once the hens are gone.

The loud one straightens his outfit before clearing his throat. “WHAT KIND OF HUMAN ALLOWS PEOPLE TO BE ATTACKED BY SUCH VICIOUS BIRDS?!”

You resist the urge to plug your ears. “They tend to not like strangers wandering near their coop. Also, no need to shout.”

He seems to stand up straighter and open his mouth, but the other one quickly intervenes. “We apologize for trespassing. My name is Silver and this is Sebek.”

“DON’T GO GIVING MY NAME TO THE HUMAN, SILVER!” Sebek admonishes.

After a beat, you ask once more, “Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for someone. A signal was sent from somewhere in the area,” Silver explains.

“I’m not in town as often, so I might not be the best person to ask. I’d suggest trying the guilds in town.” You gesture in the general direction of the main road.

Giving you a brief bow, Silver nods. “Thank you.” He turns to his companion. “We should head to town then.”

“Hold on! We might as well ask if the human has seen him. It’s hard not to notice such a magnificent person,” Sebek says, pointing at the human in question. His eyes zero in on you. “Human, have you seen the great Malleus Draconia?”

Your face twisted into something akin to confusion. “Who?”

The green haired one lets out a gasp. He looks equally offended and shocked. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHO THE GREAT MALLEUS DRACONIA IS!?!”

You proceed to plug your ears. Forget about being polite! “Can you stop yelling? And yes, I have no idea who you’re referring to. Like I said, check with the guilds.”

“How can someone not know the glorious young master???” He mutters to himself, not hearing a single word you said.

Giving you an apologetic look, Silver tugs his companion. “Thank you.”

Once they disappear down the road, you go inside. Tsunotarou, who had been peeking through the window, turns to you. He makes a series of grumbles. “I have no idea what that was about.” Shrugging, you go back to your potions.

After packaging everything, you plop down on the sofa with a deep sigh. “I’m already tired and it isn’t even that late.” Huffing, you close your eyes. The sofa dips and extra weight is dropped on your lap.

Tsunotarou rests his head in your lap while chirping at you. Opening your eyes, you chuckle. “Hey, you.” You affectionately rub his head. Adjusting your position so you’re laying across the sofa, Tsunotarou nestles half on top of you. His tail hangs off the couch and onto the floor.

“Ooof! You’re getting a little too big for this.” With his head resting on your chest, he peers up at you. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m just stating a fact. You’ve grown a lot.”

Scratching him around his horns, you can’t help but study them. They remind you of something, but your brain is too tired to figure it out. “Ever since you’ve come into my life, it seems my days aren’t so monotonous. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the quiet and routine. But I’ve come to realize I cherish having you around.”

He gurgles happily. “But you’ll have to leave someday, right? You can’t stay here forever and if you continue to grow, I don’t think the cottage will be enough.” Chuckling to yourself, you’re reminded of the conversation you had with Hornton.

Tsunotarou nudges your cheek with his snout. “Do you want to leave?” you ask. He shakes his head while making a few noises. “I don’t want you to leave either. But I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice. We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

The two of you doze lightly, but a sudden knock on the door sends you tumbling off the couch. Tsunotarou somehow managed to catch himself as he peers down at you. “Who’s visiting at this hour?!” Grunting, you get up and march to the door.

You’re greeted by the two from before. The shorter of the two opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted by his companion with the loud mouth. “HOW DARE YOU LIE TO US, HUMAN!”

“W-what?!” Confused, you look between the two. “Can someone explain what I supposedly lied about. Without yelling.”

“Excuse me!” Riddle shoves his way from the back. You hadn’t even noticed there were more people. Ace and Deuce pop up as well giving you nervous looks.

Riddle holds his hand up to prevent the green one from shouting. “Sorry about that. They came saying they were looking for someone. After they explained what happened, I figured out who it was they’re looking for. And rule 233 states I should escort guests to their desired location.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the accusation.” You’re too tired to be nice.

Shaking his head, Riddle sighs. “They’re looking for him.” He points over your shoulder. All eyes turn to the dragon sitting on the couch.

“Young master!”

“Your highness!”

Sebek pushes his way past you to get inside. Grumbling a few not so nice words under your breath, you allow the rest to come in as well. Sebek falls to his knees in front of the dragon while wailing something incomprehensible.

Silver turns to you. “I apologize for the accusation. Sebek can be a little…excitable when it comes to his highness.”

“Highness? Wait, so Tsunotarou is a prince?!” Angry green eyes turn to you.

“HOW DARE YOU REFER TO HIM WITH SUCH A VULGAR NAME!” Even Riddle looks put out. Seeming to realize his volume, he tones down just a little. “Not only did you kidnap him, but you subjected him to a ridiculous name?!”

Ace and Deuce move to stand in front of you when Sebek advances. “It’s okay guys. I’m not afraid of him.” The two give worried looks as you step forward. “Listen here. I did not kidnap him. I found him unconscious and injured in the woods. I took care of him and he’s been staying with me of his own free will. Tsunotarou is free to leave whenever he wants.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a sharp look. “I don’t appreciate people barging into my house making accusations! So, sit down and use your inside voice or I will kick you out on your ass!”

Ace lets out a low whistle as Sebek stands there slack jawed. “Are we done now?” Riddle asks, having taken a seat during your little speech.

There’s a moment of silence before Silver gives a small cough. “Again, I apologize for everything. We’ve been looking all over for his highness for a while.”

“It’s fine. Let’s sit down and have a civil discussion.” You take a seat on the couch. Tsunoartou sticks to your side despite the forlorn look Sebek gives him.

Once everyone is sitting, you gesture to the two. “So, who are you?”

“As we said before, I am Silver and this is Sebek. We are personal guards for his royal highness, prince Malleus Draconia,” he explains.

Looking at the dragon leaning against your side, you eye him curiously. “So you’re actually a prince?” He gives a nod. “You do know I was joking about the whole cursed prince thing, right?”

He grumbles deep in his throat, seeming not too pleased about something. “Your prince is a small dragon?” Deuce asks, scratching his cheek as he tries to wrap his head around it all.

“Of course not!” Sebek glares at him. “The young master’s true form is much more elegant and refined. Even his real dragon form is better than this! Not that you humans would understand the beauty of fae.”

“So how did he end up like that?” Ace pipes in.

Pressing his fingers to his temple, Silver sighs deeply. “It was punishment from his grandmother for not doing his duty. We didn’t think he would get carried off by a demon crow when we weren’t looking.”

“What kind of person is your grandmother to curse her own grandson? Scary…” It sends a shiver down your spine. His grandmother must be very powerful since both Vil and Riddle said the curse was created with old magic.

“The curse thing has happened before,” Silver explains, not sounding concerned at all. “Getting lost is new.”

“He’s been living with me for almost a year, and you just decided to search for him?” If he’s a prince, shouldn’t they have been looking for him sooner?

Silver sighs. “The queen assured us that he was fine and ordered us not to search for him. However, a few weeks ago, she told us to find him. I’m not sure why she changed her mind…”

“I assume the one who put the curse on him can take it off? We’ve been studying ways to lift the curse, but haven’t had any luck.” Riddle’s cheeks are puffed out, most likely annoyed that he couldn’t find a way to break the curse himself.

Silver nods. “Yes. We will take him back home so the queen can lift the curse. Though looking at his form, it seems his own magic was working on breaking the curse from within. I’m sure fath-Lilia will be interested to hear this…”

The two stand up. “We need to head back home, immediately!” Sebek announces.

“Right now? But it’s night time. It could be dangerous,” you point out.

“We’ll be fine. We have a charm that will take us directly to the castle,” Silver explains.

“Of course you do.” You can’t delay the inevitable. “Can I have a moment alone with him? Please?”

“Of course. We will wait outside.” Despite Sebek’s protests, the two head out.

Riddle, Ace and Deuce also stand to leave. “I’ll head back to town to let Vil know what happened.”

“We'll be outside if you need us,” Deuce informs you.

Once everyone leaves, it’s just you and Tsunotarou once more. Suddenly a heavy feeling settles on your chest. “You’re leaving… I guess the time has come, Tsunotarou. Sooner than I would like, but you have to go home.”

Sitting up to his full height, he places his front paws on your shoulders. Staring at eye level, he silently conveys his message. Chuckling, you press your forehead against his. Wrapping your arms around his body, you give him a squeeze.

“I’ll see you soon Tsuno-no, that’s not your name. I’ll see you soon, Malleus.” Pulling away, you press a kiss to his forehead. He freezes while his eyes widen. You laugh at his shocked expression. “I just wanted to see if it would work.”

You give him one last hug. You’re not sure when you'll see him again, but you have a feeling you will. You just have to wait.

---

Half a year goes by and things return back to how it was before you found Malleus. The same routine that you once found comfort in feels empty. You go through the motions but none of it really registers. You tell yourself you’ll get back into the groove of things eventually. You’re lying.

Ace and Deuce drop by more often, which you appreciate. Though they don’t say it, they know you’re feeling down. However, they can only stay for so long before they’ll have to find a new commission to take.

“Hey, do you guys actually know who Malleus Draconia is?” Ace asks one day over breakfast.

Deuce throws him a look, but you wave him off. “It’s fine, Deuce. It’s not like we can’t talk about him. And no, I don't know who he is.”

“He’s the next king of Briar Valley! And he’s considered one of the most powerful mages in the world! Can you believe that someone that scary was living with you?!”

You shrug, not really caring. “To me, he was just Tsunotarou. And even now that I know who he is, I don’t care.”

Ace snorts. “Of course you wouldn’t. Still, can you imagine how powerful his grandmother is? That’s one terrifying family you don’t want to mess with.”

“Though now that you mention it, Briar Valley sounds familiar…” Thoughtful chewing on a piece of bread, you wrack your brain. “Oh! That’s where Hornton is from!”

“Horn-what? Who’s that?” Deuce asks between mouthfuls of food.

Taking a sip of your juice, you nonchalantly reply, “You know the naked stranger I mentioned a long time ago. Turns out he’s from Briar Valley too.”

“Are you asking to be killed? Why would you talk to someone who can’t even wear clothes?!” Ace looks at you like you’ve grown too heads. “And what kind of name is Hornton?”

“It’s a nickname. He didn’t give me his real name so I gave him one.”

Rolling his eyes, Ace shoves the rest of his breakfast in his mouth. “Yew swuk at maming!” Bits of food fly out of his mouth. You childishly stick your tongue out.

Deuce is quiet before asking, “Have you seen him recently?”

“No. He usually shows up during the full moon, but I haven’t seen him.” You did spend a few full moon nights waiting, but he never came. After a few times, you gave up. “Now that I think about it, he hasn’t shown up since Tsunotarou left…”

“...”

“You met one of the most powerful beings in the world and not only did you give him one dumb name, but two?!!”

“I didn’t know!”

Covering your face, you let out a frustrated groan. The table falls silent once more. Then from the redhead in a barely contained laugh, “So, you saw his crown jewels?”

“Ace!” Deuce's face turns bright red.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” There’s a pause before the table erupts into laughter. Sometimes you question your choice of friends, but at times like these, you’re grateful for them.

---

“Do you have everything?” Deuce asks for the umpteenth time.

You adjust the straps to your bag. “Yup! I’ll be back in a few weeks at most. Just don’t burn down my home. Please.”

“I’m not that bad! If anything Deuce will burn down the cottage,” Ace shouts in the background. Merryweather gives his shoe a hard peck. “Evil bird!”

Shaking your head, you turn to Deuce. “I want all my ladies to be here when I get back. Or else.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” he reassures. However, seeing Ace run away from three angry hens does little to relieve your concerns.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

“Go! You got a personal invite from a prince to visit.” He waves you off. “Anyways, Trey will be coming to make sure your house is okay.”

“At least someone responsible will be here,” you mutter. Giving Deuce one last goodbye, you head over to where Sebek and Silver are waiting just outside your front gate. “Be nice to them, Ace!” you shout.

He’s too busy trying to fend off the hens to say much. “They truly are vicious creatures. Are you sure you didn’t train them to attack?” Sebek shudders at the sight of the redhead getting pecked at.

“They’re just overprotective. So, how are we getting to Briar Valley?” With a suitcase and backpack, you’re ready to leave home for the first time in a long time. Malleus’s invitation is safely tucked away in your bag.

Silver produces a small piece of paper from his pocket. You note there are some ruins written on it. “Everyone, hold on to me.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, he rips the paper in half. The ruins light up momentarily, before you’re engulfed in a blinding light.

You blink rapidly, trying to clear the spots dancing in your vision. Once you can see again, you look around. No longer home, you’re standing in front of a gate. A marvelous castle looms above. Despite all the opulence, you’re solely focused on the figure standing on the path leading to the castle.

Pushing through the gate, you rush forward. “W-wait!” You ignore Sebek’s shout.

Stopping just a few feet away, you break out into a grin. “I see you’re wearing clothes this time.”

He returns the smile with one of his own. “I wanted to look my best to greet you. You’re a very important guest after all.”

“Can I give you a hug or is that breaking decorum?” you ask, ignoring Sebek’s sputters of protest.

“Come on, Sebek. Fath-Lilia wanted us to see him right when we returned.” There’s a few words exchanged, but they leave you two alone.

Malleus opens his arms. “I would like that very much.”

Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around him. Despite not knowing Tsunotarou and Horton were one and the same until recently, there’s a sense of familiarity. He might not be a scaly black dragon like you’re used to, but he holds the same scent and warmth. His gaze has the same wonder and affection.

He nuzzles the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Pulling away, you take his hand. “Though I do kinda miss your little dragon form,” you tease.

Malleus squeezes your hand. “Perhaps I should ask grandmother to curse me once more?”

“No!” However, you note the way his brows are lifted and his mouth quirks up. “You’re teasing me, right?”

“Of course. I guess I missed the mark on that.” He shakes his head. “Before I can show you around, grandmother would like to meet you.”

“Right now? I’m not even presentable!” This is not what you expected. You’ve only been in Briar Valley for a whole 5 minutes, and now you’re expected to meet the queen!?

Malleus doesn’t seem worried, though. “You look wonderful as always. Come, let us be off.”

Before you can protest, he pulls you to his chest. Arm around your waist, you temporarily lose the ability to think as you’ve never been this close to him before. Well at least not in this form. In a blink, you’re no longer standing outside the castle.

You stand in a large gazebo surrounded by rose bushes as far as the eye can see. They’re all in full bloom. There’s a lot of time and effort put into the garden. You also notice a rather scary looking gargoyle further away.

Someone hums with interest causing you to turn your attention away from the roses. The only other occupant in the gazebo is a regal looking woman holding a teacup. A table filled with small dishes and a tea set are laid before her. She has the same inky black hair as Malleus, though you note streaks of white in her impeccable style. Her horns are intricately decorated with delicate gold chains studded with gems. Green eyes flash with interest as she sets down the teacup without making a sound.

“Malleus, what a lovely surprise. Who is this?” she asks, eyes never leaving you. Her knowing gaze sees right into your very soul.

“Grandmother, I’d like to introduce to you (Y/N).” You realize he’s still holding you close to his side. Disentangling yourself for him while stepping away at a respectable distance. You don’t know if you should be bowing. She is the queen after all!

She smiles, revealing shiny, white teeth. You briefly wonder if the smile is meant to be inviting or intimidating. Maybe both. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, little human. My grandson has been talking about you non-stop since he came home. And I must say, you’re as adorable as he described~”

“I-It’s nice to m-meet yo-you too, your highness!” Did she just call you adorable?? Your neck prickles as you suddenly feel too warm.

She stands up, towering over your form. Not only is she intimidating just by her aura but also in height! “Hoho, so formal! You can call me grandmother.”

There’s silence as your brain stutters to a halt. You can hear Malleus let out a deep breath while the queen's laughter echoes in the garden.

Tagging: @starsilluminateourgalaxy @stormyovent0aster @hanafubukki @mscarterakaviola98 @sparkleypancakez @youaskedfurret @yokokai @hajimeseyo @ravenlking @peter-the-pan @enchanted-nerd @nocturneabyss @chaasworld @lechuko @bloomsapphire @amar-farasha @itszzmoon @xlifexdeathx @supernovaicloud @mysterypotatoink @illytian @depressed-bitchy-demon @cheyuma @liquidfurby @bigcandlesmolbrain @thetruepair @chibishae34 @strawberry-soap-bar @sus0daddy @inana-mm @liliaviper @musclefanatica @loivre @chuchotheblackcat @lorkai

#twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #reader insert #scenario

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unseededtoast · 7 months

Text

Light As A Feather | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: The gravity of your job begins getting to you, and you come to realize you've forgotten how beautiful life can be. And one tranquil night, it's like Spencer is able to lift the weight and makes you feel light as a feather. Inspired by Hozier's "I, Carrion (Icarian)"

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: General violence, angst, pining. Poorly Edited

a/n: howdy folks. I'm still in my spencer reid/hozier brainrot era and so here's another. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you for all of the support I've received, it means the world!!

His presence is enough to make you forget about the horrors of the world, of your job. Right now, it's just you and him, and you've never felt lighter; so unburdened. You're convinced that if he wasn't there, holding onto you with his magnetic pull, that you may just float away in the breeze like a feather.

You had never been to Colorado before, and now you wish you could be here under different circumstances. It's the beginning of fall and it seems as if the people of Boulder are head over heels in love with the season. Which is understandable, you think you'd love fall this much too if you lived in a place this beautiful. The trees are painted in vibrant shades of yellow, orange, and red and the distant mountains stand proudly in the background with their snow capped tops. Your eyes are glued to the lush landscape as the SUV drives through Boulder to reach your destination.

You, along with the rest of your team, were called by the Park Rangers from the Rocky Mountain National Park about a few bodies they had discovered. Your superior, Hotch, decided their case was odd enough for you all to pay a visit. At first you hadn't wanted to come, convinced that there would be something closer to home to tend to, but now you're glad you agreed to come. Fall time in Quantico just isn't as picturesque.

Eventually, the SUV you're crammed into alongside three of your other team members drives up a long winding driveway to a hidden cabin in the woods. Hotch had booked the place, seeing as how close it is to the National Park and how secluded it is from potential people of interest. Once again, you tried to argue that the cellphone reception would be terrible up here and that it might hinder the case, but you were outvoted, and the rest of the team wanted to stay here. You hadn't understood why, but when the venue comes into view your jaw almost drops and you understand.

The cabin isn't at all what you had been expecting. Instead of some run-down, small, stuffy house, you see a large, sprawling log mansion. There are large windows adorning the front, accompanied by a wraparound porch on the second level. It's very reminiscent of a tasteful ski lodge.

"Wow." You breathe out as the car comes to a stop outside the front door.

"Still think it's a bad idea?" Hotch smarts off as he opens the trunk and starts handing people their bags. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you grab your bag from him and stare up at your home for the next few days.

The rest of the team wastes no time in going inside to claim their room, but you're happy to meander around for a little bit to familiarize yourself with the layout. You'll let them fight over the rooms and take whatever is left. After all, in a place of this size, even the smallest room is bound to be plentiful.

As you go through the halls admiring the artwork on the wall you spot Spencer doing the same, staring at a particular painting on the wall. You take just a second to appreciate the way he looks, standing there and analyzing art. You've always had an appreciation for Spencer, and not just for his good looks, but also his intelligence and his company.

Since your first day at the FBI you've felt drawn to him, he made you feel important, and heard, when others dismissed you. In fact, he's the reason you're on the BAU team in the first place. He was the only one to recognize your abilities and talents. You try not to hold a grudge about the fact the rest of the team was ready to let you transfer out after your internship. But instead of standing there and gawking at him like some braindead fool, you walk up to him, setting your bag on the floor beside your feet.

You look at the painting that's caught his attention and try to see what he does, try to think about how he interprets it. His mind is an amazing, complex thing, and you hope that one day you'll be able to understand just a small portion of it. It's a painting of the Great Rocky National Park, you can tell from the mountain formation and the river running through it. The painting is almost an identical match, as if it's actually a picture rather than painting. However, there's one small spot on the painting that looks like it's been painted over and over, it sticks out to you.

"What do you think happened there?" You point out the flaw and look up to Spencer, whose eyebrows are drawn closely together as he leans in and looks at the spot. After a few moments of quiet reflection, he stands back to his full height.

"I'm not sure. It looks like maybe the painter had difficulties finding the right shade." He says, still staring at the spot. Your eyes linger on his face before tearing them away before he catches on.

"You're probably right. I'm going to go find what room they left me." You say, grabbing your bag from beside you. Spencer bends over to pick up his as well,

"I should probably do the same." A small smile adorns his face, and the two of you begin walking through the cabin to find the empty rooms the team left you. According to the venue's website there should be one room for each agent, and you're thankful for that. You had never been a fan of sharing room with your coworkers, something about it just feels wrong, but when there's no way to avoid it you endure without much fuss.

The two of you check every room on the first floor only to find that they had all been claimed, meaning you two had to climb the stairs for rooms on the second level. Of course the rest of them would all claim the first floor rooms first, nobody likes to bother with stairs first thing in the morning.

You and Spencer find the empty rooms, side by side with direct access to the porch. You suppose there are worse rooms to have. Eager to step out onto the porch, you toss your bag on the bed and open the sliding door. Colorado's crisp air envelopes you as you step out and you take a deep breath. The air out here feels so clean and refreshing. Great Rocky National Park is directly in front of the porch, giving you an eagle's eye view of a portion of it as you lean onto the banister. Might as well enjoy a little bit of peace before you start working the case.

-----

"Three women were found in the same spot days apart from each other. All bludgeoned and stabbed through the heart." The Park Ranger speaks, indicating to the crime scene that's been barricaded with yellow tape. The Ranger stares at the scene, which is now an inconspicuous patch of dirt and grass, as if there weren't several dead women resting here. The scene is right beside a big body of crystal blue water.

You hang back from the rest of the team, opting to look at the surroundings instead of the immediate scene. The team knows now that finding the tiny details is your forte, and they leave you to your own devices in the beginning of investigations. The cold breeze causes you to hold your too-thin jacket closer to your body as you begin your observations.

"They were all found in the same spot?" Hotch asks the Ranger, who confirms that all of the victims were found in the exact same spot. As you examine the landscape, your eyes narrow in an attempt to find even the subtlest detail. Before too long, you see something out of place in the lush grass and walk over to it while pulling on a pair of gloves.

There's a pamphlet laying in the grass and upon further examination you see that it's been marked up like someone gave the traveler directions. Directions right to this spot. The killer lured at least one victim here. This trail is far off the beaten path, it's not marked by the Rangers. Only someone familiar with the area would know about it.

"Look at this." You call out to your team, and soon a few of them join your side to examine what you found. Spencer and Morgan look over your shoulder at the pamphlet, which is in better condition than you would've thought considering it was laying in grass beside a body of water.

"They're familiar with the area, they had this planned." Spencer speaks up and you nod your head, agreeing with him. Morgan holds out an evidence bag once he's done looking at it and you slip it inside, protecting it from any further damage. Morgan walks off with the pamphlet, leaving you and Spencer together, both deep in thought.

"What have you come up with so far?" You ask softly, curious to see if his theories line up with yours. Spencer shifts his weight and sighs, looking back to the crime scene.

"The killer is organized. They lured at least one victim right to this spot, and I'm assuming they did the same with the others. And they had to have brought the weapons with them. While there are branches to bludgeon people with, there's no evidence of anything nearby being cut down recently. If they used a natural object, it's likely they would've tried to blend it back in with nature." He explains and you nod your head along with what he's saying as you observe the scene and the scenery surrounding you.

"Unless they tossed the weapon into the water. They could have easily used a rock to bludgeon the victims." You counter his explanation. Spencer and you always did this with one another when forming theories. Not as to dissuade, or prove the other wrong, but to make your theories and explanations stronger. It's one of the qualities you most like about him. His eyes drift to the water.

"They could have. But they had to have brought the knife, there's no natural substitute that would leave that precise of a wound." He says, and you relent, agreeing with him.

"I want to question the Rangers, get their work schedules, and see the call logs. I also want to know where the victims were staying and if there's any camera footage of them in the welcome center." You shiver with a gust of wind and hold your arms tighter around your body as you walk off to gather the information you want.

Spencer decides to join you in going to the welcome center, claiming that in a huge national forest that none of us should be traveling alone. He has a good point, but you wouldn't have objected to his company either way. The Ranger from the scene escorts you two to the welcome center in his cruiser, the warm air letting your fingers regain their feeling.

"Who found the bodies?" You ask as you hold your hands in front of the vent emitting warm air. The Ranger looks at you through the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"I found one and Birch found the others during his patrols." He answers and you mentally make a note to find Birch.

"Is that area regularly patrolled?" You push further for more information and the Ranger shakes his head.

"No, it wasn't, until I found the first girl. She had to have been out there for at least three days. After that I sent Birch out to keep an eye on the area. He found victim two a couple days after the first, and found the third a single day after the second." He says and you look to Spencer, both noting the decrease in time between kills. A sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that if you don't find the killer soon, then you may be finding a fourth victim any day now.

Once you reach the welcome center, the Rangers are more than happy to provide you with the security camera footage, work schedules, call logs, and anything else you may need. In fact, it's Ranger Birch that hands over the information himself. He's a young man, maybe mid twenties, with meticulously groomed hair and pressed uniform pants.

"Thank you." You tell him with a warm smile, taking the footage and other information off the counter and into your hands. He nods back with a wide, white-toothed smile and tells you and Spencer to come back if you need anything else. The moment you step out of the welcome center you give Spencer a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you think?" He asks you before you can ask him. You lick your lips and glance back into the welcome center, Ranger Birch still looking at you. Your eyes find Spencer's and you motion for him to follow you.

"I think he takes pride in both his appearance and work, and he knows the park well." Hotch pulls up in a black SUV to pick you and Spencer up to return you to the cabin, where the entire team will discuss what's been found so far.

-----

The trip up to the cabin only takes about ten minutes. Your mind works to put pieces of the puzzle together the entire trip back, but there's just not enough known information yet, and it bothers you. You like to have answers quickly because the faster you get answers, the less people will die. Your leg bounces up and down the entire way back, eager to begin deciphering the evidence.

The SUV comes to a stop outside the cabin and before Hotch can turn the car off, you're out and making your way to the entrance. A man dressed in a casual flannel shirt hunched over the flowerbeds stops you in your tracks before you get to the front door. He wipes the dirt from his landscaping gloves onto his worn overalls as he greets you.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I hope you enjoy your stay here. I'm James, I do the landscaping work around here and a few other cabins nearby." He offers you a warm smile, which you try your best to return, but your anticipation is causing you to become short.

"Nice meeting you." You go to walk into the cabin, but James' voice stops you once more. Spencer and Hotch approach, engaged in a conversation likely pertaining to what happened at the welcome center.

"Wait, ma'am. I never caught your name." James smile is reminiscent of an old friend, and he looks at you expectedly. Against your best wishes, you answer him, not wanting to be unnecessarily rude to your host.

"We'll, it's been a pleasure to meet you. Maybe I'll catch you around before you head out. Are you here for work?" He continues his conversation as Spencer and Hotch walk into the cabin undeterred by the landscaper. Maybe if you had just slowed down one of them would've been caught instead. James' eyes linger on the items in your hands.

"Yeah, the whole team is here for work." You answer, shuffling some items around in your grasp. James nods his head and tears his gaze away from the items, the warm smile returning to his face.

"Must be some important work if a whole team is here. By the looks of you all I'd say you're some sort of police." He guesses, eyeing the firearm that's strapped to your thigh. Your eyes narrow at the man, and you nod.

"Yeah, something like that. I really have to get going, they're probably waiting for me in there. Have a nice night, James." You find your exit route out of the conversation with the friendly mannered landscaper. As you step through the door you hear his voice call out to you once more.

"If there's anything I can do to help, number's in the guestbook." The door closes, and the conversation finally ends.

Taking a cleansing breath, you join the rest of the team who are all gathered around the rectangular dining table, which has been designated as the investigation headquarters. On the table are a slew of files, photos, and papers. You add the information gathered from the welcome center to that collection and Hotch starts the conversation.

Hotch reviews the known information and circulates photos of the victims. They're all beautiful young women, and according to Garcia, were staying at nearby resorts and cabins for vacation. The photos get passed to you and you look at them intently, committing to memory every detail you can absorb before you pass them along. It's obvious that these victims were chosen because of their physical appearance, they all share the same basic features such as hair color, eye color, and stature. And eerily, you seem to match the profile as well.

"The physical appearance of the victim is important to the unsub. Having three victims with similar features is no mistake, nor is it a coincidence." You add to the conversation, seeing your team members look from you to the photos on the table.

"Maybe the victims represent someone who scorned the unsub? Extracting revenge through them." Spencer suggests, and it's a good theory. You chew on the skin of your bottom lip as your mind races with theories and trying to piece the information together like a puzzle.

After the general briefing, Hotch assigns Morgan and Prentiss to interview the Park Rangers to establish alibis, JJ and Garcia to continue conducting their online investigation, and Spencer and yourself to go over the welcome center footage. Hotch was going to speak to the people running the cabins the victims were staying at to see if there are any leads there.

You and Spencer are on the second hour of footage when your eyes start becoming heavy. Reaching for the remote, you pause the footage and stretch, needing to take a break.

"You want some coffee?" You ask him, needing something to keep yourself awake. He nods his head,

"Yes, please." You stand from your seat and go to the kitchen to prepare the two of you some coffee. You're sure to put an ungodly amount of sugar in Spencer's, knowing that if you don't you'll hear him complain about it. And most times you enjoy the sound of his voice, but you don't know if you can stand hours of CCTV footage and him complaining about a lack of sugar right now.

You return to the table and place his mug in front of him, steam rising from it. You sip your own and resume your position at the table and reach for the remote. Spencer reaches for it at the same time, your hands brushing one another's. His hand is warm and soft, perfect for the chilly autumn air.

"Sorry." You say, pulling your hand away and forcing any other thought than the footage from your mind, knowing that there's already a faint pink adorning your cheeks. No matter how long you've worked with him, even just simple touches is enough to send you spiraling if you let it. You try not to delve into what that might mean; you profile people for a living, the last thing you want to do is profile yourself. Without a word, Spencer just smiles back politely and presses play.

The footage rolls and you two identify the victims who all showed up unaccompanied, which you find odd considering they were on vacation with their families. Your hand jots down quick notes in sloppy handwriting as you critically examine what you do, and don't, see in the footage. Spencer and you replay the footage showing the victims easily five times each, both silently taking notes, knowing you're going to compare soon. After watching the third victim's footage for the last time, you look over to Spencer, who's face is illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun.

"Do you want to go first?" He asks and you nod, trying not to stare at how the sunlight reflects the amber color in his warm prismatic eyes. You look down to your notes and try to get your thoughts straight before speaking.

"I noted that all three victims walked into the welcome center with a pamphlet already in hand. None of them took the ones provided by the park. They all showed up alone. I can only assume that the unsub gave them the pamphlets with instructions on how to find the scene. Only, I'm willing to bet it was framed as a good-intentioned suggestion. There's no way those women would have gone if they didn't trust the unsub to some degree." Your eyes glance from your horribly written notes up to Spencer, who's leaning on the table, clinging to every word you say. He hums in consideration before he speaks up.

"I would agree. And if the victims were all staying at tourist destinations, those pamphlets were likely already there. So now the question is whether or not the unsub talked to them at their cabins or before they walked into the welcome center." He says, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind.

"Wouldn't it make more sense for the unsub to speak to them at their cabins? I mean, if the unsub caught them in the parking lot there's a chance they might have their families with them. But if the unsub spoke to them at their cabins, the women might be persuaded to leave their families behind for some reason." You say, going with the logical deductions that pop into your mind. Spencer mulls over your words, his eyes narrowing, staring back at you in deep thought.

"You're right. The unsub likely works for the resorts. It would give them access to the victims and it wouldn't be weird for them to give suggestions to guests." He confirms what you thought and you look back to the screen, seeing the third victim frozen in time.

"We should let the team know." You say and Spencer nods. The two of you finish off your coffee and wait for the rest of the team to arrive. You're confident that the two of you have a solid lead on this case. You only hope you can find the unsub before there's a fourth victim.

-----

The sun sets on the scenic landscape and you lean against the banister of the wraparound porch. The rest of the team isn't back yet, and the last thing you want to do is stay inside when it's so beautiful out here. The snowcapped mountain in the distance gleams brilliantly, and it's almost blinding, but you can't look away. Sounds of water rushing and birds chirping fill the air and if you let your mind relax enough it's almost like you're not here to solve murders.

Your head rests atop of your arms on the railing and you breathe in the cool air. The breeze gently blows your hair around, sending a shiver up your spine. You had severely underestimated how cold it would be here, and as a result, you failed to pack adequately because you were basing your packing off of Virginia fall time temperatures, which are noticeably warmer.

The sliding door opens and you turn to see Spencer walking out of his room. He joins your side and leans forward on the railing, looking out at the breathtaking view. His curly brown hair gets blown into his face, and you have to stop yourself from reaching out and tucking it behind his ear. You're also enjoying the breathtaking view.

He looks at peace, which is not something you usually see in him. His mind works overtime almost twenty four hours a day, especially on cases. It has to be torturous sometimes, to never get a reprieve from your own thoughts; and that's something you know all too well. There are some nights where you can't sleep because gruesome memories from the job haunt you.

Noticing that you're staring at him, you turn your gaze back to the colorful trees. The two of you enjoy a moment of tranquility together, a rare moment in the fast-paced career you pursued. A bird flies by, and you can only imagine what that freedom feels like. Most times you feel like your job keeps you cemented in one place, always dealing with death and the most heinous monsters that reside in this world. You often forget just how beautiful and free life can be.

A particularly crisp breeze comes through and you visibly shiver, which Spencer notices. Without a word, he goes into his room and comes back moments later with the throw blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed. It's burnt orange in color and is made of faux fur, warm and soothing. Spencer drapes it over your shoulders and you hold onto the ends, keeping it secure around you. If you could stay in this moment forever, you would.

Spencer stands so closely beside you that you feel his warmth coming through the blanket, and without much thought, or care, you lean into him just slightly. He makes no effort to move, and the two of you stay like that for what seems like an eternity. His warmth and his smell are so comforting and makes you feel safe. Deep down in your heart you know he makes you feel at home.

The two of you enjoy each other's company in a peaceful silence. There's never been the need to fill the silence with him, like there is the others. While you two are quite talkative in the team dynamic, when you find yourselves alone it's often relaxed with no expectations. You two talk when you want, or is needed, but when there's nothing to say you're more than happy to just be around him. And you hope he feels the same about you, and you think he does, but you're never brave enough to ask for fear of ruining whatever relationship it is that you two share.

Sighing, you cuddle yourself further into the blanket as the sun dips lower and lower, the golden hue turning orange. Spencer moves beside you, and you see his fingers twitch, like he was going to reach out for something but doesn't. Your head turns to look at him above you, and his head lowers, so that your eyes meet one another.

You had always known his eyes were beautiful, but up this close you can truly admire the depth of them. The golden hues remind you of the sunsets, the green in them is like the rich moss that adorns the sides of the rocks; or like the pine needles on the tall trees, and the brown is reminiscent of swirling espresso. Taken aback from his closeness and the heat creeping up your spine, your lips fall open and his eyes glance between them and your eyes. He's so close to you, your bodies practically pressed against one another. You feel yourself being drawn to him, like he has his own magnetic pull.

But whatever was about to happen is cut short by the rest of the team arriving back to the cabin. You and Spencer seem to come back to reality and step away from one another. Flustered, you unwrap the blanket from your shoulders and hand it back to him, already missing the warmth.

"Thank you." Your voice is soft and tender, and his hand brushes your own as he grabs the blanket from you.

"Of course." He smiles softly back, and the two of you part ways to join the rest of your team downstairs to catch up on the latest information. But you can barely pay attention to what is being said, for your mind is drowning with flashes of Spencer out on the porch.

-----

The next morning you wake up as the sun shines in through the windows, illuminating the room beautifully and warmly. Hotch had given everyone the night to mull over the information and said that the investigation will pick right back up in the morning. After you get dressed and ensure your service weapon is properly attached to the harness around your thigh, you make your way down the stairs for a morning cup of coffee. Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch are already sat at the table, picking at some toast for breakfast as they get the sleep rid from their systems.

You make a cup for yourself and Spencer, knowing he will be up any moment now. As per usual, too much sugar gets put into his and then you pour your own. The warm drink calms your nerves and you close your eyes, trying to get your mind prepared for whatever the day may bring. You know there may very well be a fourth victim found soon and you need to be on the top of your game to find the unsub.

"Good morning." A raspy voice makes your eyes open, and you see Spencer walking into the kitchen, dressed in a button up and tie. It's quite casual for him, but you like it, it looks nice on him.

"Good morning, made yours right here." You say and nod over to the mug on the counter. He looks from you to the mug with a smile on his face.

"Thanks." He says, and the two of you stay in the kitchen, sipping on your coffee and waiting for Hotch to give everyone orders.

"Feeling good about today?" It's something you always ask when an investigation seems to be coming to a close. You think it sets a tone, an expectation that the team will succeed. Spencer sips his drink and nods,

"I feel good about today." He confirms, flashing his bright white smile.

Last night, after the team had arrived, Hotch had shown everyone the list of employees from the neighboring resorts and cabins and today the team will be interviewing those employees. You're convinced the unsub has to be on that list and you intend to find out who it is. The questions have already been sorted in your mind, though you're able to adapt to anyone's personality and are prepared to get answers.

"Same teams as yesterday, we're going to divide and conquer." Hotch says, handing each team a list of names. You look down at the list he handed you and see that there are a total of fifteen employees for the small resort that you and Spencer are covering. It catches your attention that seven of the fifteen are women, and you mentally place them lower on your suspect list. This doesn't seem like a crime women usually commit, no, this seems like the work of a man as evidenced by the brute force used.

Morgan and Prentiss take off in one car, Hotch takes another, leaving you and Spencer with your own SUV. The two of you gather your needed materials, such as photos and notepads, before you head out. Spencer grabs the keys and tells you that he's going to warm up the car as you finish organizing your things, and you're grateful for that. Sitting in a cold car doesn't really appeal to you right now.

Once you're content with the items you've chosen to bring along you head out of the cabin. The bright light almost blinds you, and you squint in order to see. From the corner of your eye you see something move, and when you turn to look you see it's the landscaper from the other day, already flagging you down. Resisting the strong urge to just ignore him, you wait for him to reach you on the porch steps. He looks like he's already been hard at work today, he's covered in dirt and sweat.

"Well good mornin'. Got anything interesting going on today?" He asks, shielding his eyes from the light with his gloved hand. You shift your weight and look to the running SUV, already planning your escape route out of this conversation.

"Uh, yeah, you could say it'll be an interesting day." You reply as politely as you can. James smiles widely at your response.

"What sort of thing you have planned?" He asks and you sigh, not wanting to be part of this conversation any longer.

"I'm not at liberty to say, but I've gotta go, my partner is waiting for me." You excuse yourself from the conversation before he can get another word in. From behind you, you hear him say.

"Well alright then, I'll be around if you need anything." As you slide into the driver's side of the car and hand your bag to Spencer, you see the man heading back to the tool shed.

"That's twice now that he's singled me out." You say, keeping your eye on him for a moment longer, watching his moves. The fact that you match the victim profile is not lost on you, and you think it might be making you just slightly paranoid.

"I noticed that too. Could be that you were the first one there the last time, and the last one out this time, but it's definitely something to keep note of." Spencer says as you drive off to the tiny resort the two of you had been assigned. You know he might be right, but the man went out of his way to flag you down this morning and completely ignored everyone else. An uneasy feeling in your stomach tells you that the landscaper should be looked into more thoroughly.

When you and Spencer reach the resort you waste no time in beginning your investigations. The two of you are laser focused on the task at hand, and agree to split the list equally. Spencer volunteered himself to question the extra person. Luckily, the front desk attendant was more than helpful and secured two rooms for the interviews to be conducted.

The first four interviews go by without incident, all front desk attendants and kitchen workers who have no indication of manipulative traits and answer your questions openly. You've done this enough times to spot exactly what you're looking for, you know what gets under the skin of unsubs, especially the organized ones who think they have it all figured out.

A couple other interviewees give you good information about the victim who stayed here. They tell you how they remember seeing her with her family in the hall, and how nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the room when it was cleaned. Hotch had questioned the families last night, and cleared them from the suspects list.

By the time you reach the end of your list, you know you can safely cross every one of them off. None of them responded to the misinformation you sprinkled in the questions, things the unsub would've been known to be untrue. And none of them had any sort of reaction to you insulting the intelligence of the unsub, something that would have surely set them off in some way. But to your dismay, none of them had any clue of who could be capable of this kind of malice. Typically, there's at least one person who's able to spot something weird about someone, but not this time.

You group back up with Spencer, the two of you comparing notes in the room he used for his questioning. He had the same results as you and you both were hoping someone else on the team was more successful.

"We got all of them except for James Hilton. The others said he bounces around to each place and some days he's not even here." Spencer says, pointing out the only uncrossed name from the list.

"James Hilton. That's the landscaper." You say, barely able to recall his name from yesterday. The uneasy feeling in your stomach grows.

-----

In the afternoon, the team reconvenes in the cabin around the table to compare findings. Every other agent was able to interview everyone but James Hilton. Granted, his job requires him to go from location to location, but it seems like he's been hanging out around this cabin often. However, he was nowhere to be found when everyone came back. But maybe he went to another location to work on their flowerbeds.

"We'll need to get his statement today. Anyone up to track him down?" Usually you volunteer to go after someone like this, but something is telling you not to, and you listen to your instincts. Thankfully Morgan offers to track him down, and Prentiss joins him once more. You pick at a piece of paper on the table as your mind works, mulling over what you know about the case and the overly-friendly landscaper.

Before Morgan and Prentiss leave, Spencer informs the team about the conversations that James has dragged you into. You tell them exactly what happened, and they all agree that it seems suspicious. Hotch goes off to make some calls to JJ and Garcia, leaving you and Spencer at the table.

"Hey, are you okay?" Spencer asks, leaning forward on the table. His voice snaps you out of your trance and you cease to fiddle with the paper.

"Me? Yeah I'm fine, why?" You ask, not sure why he's concerned. He looks conflicted, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he answers.

"Well, it's just that you fit the victim profile and the conversations with the landscaper seem to be suspicious. And you keep playing with the paper which is an indication of anxiety." He says, trying his best to not profile you in front of your face.

"Spencer, I'm okay, promise. I was just thinking." You tell him, and it's the truth. While James makes you feel uneasy, you're confident that nothing will happen to you. Spencer nods and you stand from the table, wanting to inspect the cabin with finer detail and stretch your legs.

After going from room to room looking for the tiniest thing that might be relevant to the case, you find yourself staring at the same photo that caught Spencer's eye when you all first arrived. There's something about it, something about the discolored spot, that you just can't let go of. It's bothering you for some reason. Frustrated, you take it off the wall and bring it to where Spencer is in the main living area, nose in a book. He looks up from the page when he hears you coming, his eyebrows scrunching closely together.

"What are you doing?" He asks, putting the book on a side table. You place the painting on the large coffee table and put your hands on your hips.

"There's something about this that's driving me insane." You say, eyes drifting from Spencer's face to the painting. It takes Spencer all of ten seconds to analyze the painting again.

"It's the same place the bodies were found." He says and your eyes widen, taking in the scene again and realizing he's right.

"Wait. If this is the same place the bodies were found, then that, is the exact spot they were in." You say, pointing to the discolored spot. The discoloration is where the grass meets the water, the mountain in the background. Your eyes drift to the bottom corner of the painting where you see a cursive 'J' painted in white.

"Do you think the killer is the one who painted this?" Spencer asks you, and you nod.

"I'm sure of it. There's a J painted in the corner. It has to be Hilton. Can you call Garcia?" You ask, mind feeling like it's running a marathon. Spencer doesn't hesitate to get Garcia on the phone.

"Hello my beautiful boy genius, what can I do for you today?" Penelope's voice sounds throughout the room and you smirk at her entertaining phone greeting.

"Hello my beautiful computer genius, can you do me a favor?" You speak first and you can hear her laugh through the phone.

"Oh my darling anything for you." Her voice is melodic and you shake your head at her antics. You love Garcia, she's one of your closest friends inside and outside of work.

"Can you find anything on a James Hilton from the Boulder, Colorado area?" You ask her, knowing your answer is about to be served on a silver platter in just a few moments. Garcia's quick typing echoes through the phone.

"James Hilton, born and raised in Boulder. Has been working as a property manager for the last ten years at the property you all are staying at. Has one traffic record from the nineties, but other than that he's clean." She says, but you were hoping for something more incriminating.

"Anything about a wife, or a girlfriend? Maybe even a sister or mother?" You ask her, staring down a the painting.

"It looks like he was in a long term relationship with Valerie Wilson, also of Boulder. But according to her Facebook page, they are over with." She says, Spencer and you looking at each other, knowing you may have just found a potential piece of the puzzle.

"Perfect. Can you tell me what she looks like and how to contact her?" You ask and write down the details Garcia recites. After you get the needed information, Spencer hangs up and calls Hotch to inform him of what the two of you just found out. Hotch tells us that he's on his way back to the cabin after he's done with the last interview.

The painting lays in front of you two, and you take a seat on the arm of the chair Spencer is sitting in, your leg brushing up against his and your arm resting behind his head to keep yourself stable. Your eyes are glued to the discoloration, and you know there's just something about it that's more than just not being able to find the right shade.

"Is there a way to see if something has been painted over?" You ask Spencer rather than Googling it, knowing he can probably get you an answer faster. He clears his throat and nods his head.

"A few years ago it was found that Vincent Van Gogh painted over several of his works due to the cost of canvas. Experts used x-ray to see through the layers, revealing the original painting." His answer is exactly what you were looking for.

"We have to get this thing x-rayed. And someone needs to contact Valerie and ask her about her relationship with James. His tool shed should be examined as well" You jump off the chair's arm, ready to leave immediately, but having to wait for Hotch before you can proceed with anything else.

-----

Hours later, your leg is bouncing up and down, eagerly awaiting the results of the x-ray. The hospital staff had never encountered something quite like this, but you were thankful that they were cooperative. Spencer had come along with you while Hotch stayed back to get in contact with Valerie. You check your phone every ten seconds to see if you have a new message for him, but your screen is blank.

Thankfully, a few minutes later an x-ray technician comes out and beckons you to a dark room where she clips the x-ray images onto a lightboard. While the images aren't in color, you can still see exactly what you need to. The images show that where the discoloration is, there used to be a woman standing and a man on one knee. A gasp leaves your mouth, the pieces finally fitting together in your mind. Without a doubt, James is the unsub.

Spencer and you race back to the cabin and spill the findings to the rest of the team. Hotch informs you that Valerie had confirmed that James recently proposed, but she turned him down. All of the victims match her appearance. He must have been killing to fulfill some sort of revenge he felt was necessary.

The team calls each of the resorts that James is employed at only to find that he's not at any of them. While the others scramble to try and find a way to find him, your eyes land on the guestbook.

"Guys. I can call him. He told me his number is in the guestbook and we know I fit the profile. He won't be able to help himself." You say, and the others don't have any good reason as to why you shouldn't do it. Your hands shake from the adrenaline as you dial the numbers and the phone rings, your heartbeat resounding in your ears. You're so close to catching this depraved man.

"Hello?" He answers finally. You let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding and speak up.

"Hi James, you told me to call you if I needed help with anything. And, um, I think I might have broken one of the outside lights." You quickly come up with a lie, hoping to lure him out here for the arrest. You hear him moving around on the other end and the start of an engine.

"Of course, I'll be there in just a moment, honey." He says and you hang up the phone, trying not to gag from his pet name.

It takes James all of fifteen minutes to reach the cabin. When he pulls up, the entire team is waiting for him, but you were the one with cuffs in your hands. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Hotch and Morgan were out the door ordering him to the ground. With smug satisfaction, you step over the man and secure his hands in cuffs behind his back.

As the local police show up to take him away, he's spitting every expletive in the book at you. Rage and hatred show themselves very clearly on his face, and you see who he really is. You smile sickly sweet at him as he's shoved into the back of the cop car. Another monster off the street, unable to do harm to another woman. It's like a weight gets lifted from your shoulders.

-----

After the excitement of the arrest, you come down off your adrenaline rush. The rest of the team are packing, getting ready to leave in the morning, but you can't find it within yourself to do it. You're too struck by the beauty in front of you to worry about going back home. You just don't want to part with this yet. So you find yourself out on the wraparound porch once more, the sun retreating far too quickly behind the horizon for your liking.

Despite the waning sun, the landscape looks brighter, more vibrant now that you know that the killer is in custody. Usually, the team gets only a few hours of celebration before you're saddled with paperwork and the next case. A bird flies past again, and you appreciate its freedom again. Its sweet melodies carry in the breeze and soothes your weary soul.

You love your job, you can't imagine doing anything else, but it does wear on you. Both physically and mentally. Before you had started working with the team, you never could have imagined the kind of evil lurking everywhere, even in a place as gorgeous as this. But now, it's like wherever you look, no matter how beautiful the surroundings, you can always spot something amiss. You feel weighted by the knowledge of what reality actually is.

The familiar sound of the sliding door catches your attention, and you see Spencer coming towards you, blanket in hand. A smile finds its way onto your face as he closes the distance between you, securing the blanket around your shoulders. Just like yesterday, he stands right beside you, admiring the view.

"The others are all leaving tonight, they said they want to get a headstart on the papers. But I told them we'd go back in the morning." His voice is raspy, yet soft.

"But what about the plane?" You ask, eyebrows knitting together. He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at you.

"I told them we'd fly back in the morning, already have the tickets arranged." He says, easing some of your anxiousness, but not satisfying your curiosity.

"Why?" You search for the answer on his face.

"Because I saw how much you like it here. You deserve one workless night." He says with sincerity and your heart swells at the sentiment. You fully turn towards him, soft blanket draped lightly across your shoulders. You notice that Spencer has traded his button up for a simple pullover. Something so simple has never looked so good before.

"Thank you, you really didn't have to-" He cuts you off with a smile,

"I know, but I wanted to." He admits, pink coloring his cheeks. You stare up at him in awe, not quite sure what you did to deserve his thoughtfulness. Not being able to hold back your affections, you reach out and engulf him in a hug.

"Thank you, Spencer." You reiterate into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you. After a few fleeting, precious moments, you let go of him. Staring up into his eyes, you reach a hand up and stroke the soft skin of his cheekbone with your thumb. He doesn't flinch from your touch like he does with others, no, he leans into it as if he's savoring the feeling.

His arm that was around your waist come up to cup your cheek, and he gently brings your face towards his, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You hold him close, a flurry of warmth spreading from your face down to your body. His other hand finds its way around your waist, securing you to his body.

You break the kiss as your chest begins burning with the need of oxygen, and he rests his forehead against yours. Your hands come up to gently grasp the sides of his face, keeping him in place so that you can admire his beauty. After minutes pass by in silence as you two appreciate each other, Spencer tilts his head up and kisses your forehead.

He turns you around so that you're facing away from him, and he grabs the blanket from around your shoulders. Seconds later, you feel him standing behind you, wrapping the soft blanket around the both of you. His chest is behind you, and he hands you the edges of the blanket so that his hands might find the soft curve of your waist. Spencer pulls you in to him so that you're leaning back on his chest.

Spencer rests his head atop of yours as the two of you relax your minds and bodies, focusing solely on each other and the scene in front of you. Your hands come down to entwine themselves with his with a soft smile on your face.

A lone tear falls from the corner of your eye as you're overcome with emotion. You cannot recall a single time in your life that you've felt this serene, where everything just feels perfect. Your soul is well nourished and full from Spencer alone. All of those cases you worked together, the stolen glances across the office, the simple acts of kindness and thoughtfulness for each other has culminated to this one precious moment in time; and you've never felt more content.

The sun eventually sets behind the horizon, the chilly breeze billowing the blanket around you both. Above you in the sky, the stars shine brightly, and you tip your head back to admire them. You can never admire their true beauty in Quantico, their shine is dulled by light pollution, but you can see them clearly here. You can see everything clearly here.

"You know, scientists estimate that there are about two hundred sextillion stars in the sky within the Milky Way." Spencer whispers in your ear as you two bask in their soft white light. You turn around in his hold and smile up at him,

"And yet none shine as brilliantly or as beautifully as you." You say, and pull him in for another soft, heartfelt kiss. As you pull away, you watch as his eyes flutter open and he smiles endearingly. You've never seen such a beautiful sight, never felt comfort as warm as him, and you know as you lean into his embrace, that you will not bear the weight of this world or this life alone.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #hozier #spencer reid x you #Spotify #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid comfort

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arctrooper69 · 10 months

Note

hello i come rolling in with a fic request because i adore your style of writing, but please don’t feel pressured! i understand you probably get a lot of requests

could you do a wolffe x reader fic (probably fluff or hurt comfort) where it’s based on “annie’s song” by john denver? i have an image of them slow dancing in the rain in a meadow in my head but you don’t have to include that

thank you so much!! 💚💚

This is such a beautiful song 😍 I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this to you! I hope I captured the essence of the song for you!

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Come Let Me Love You

...Let me lay down beside you. Let me always be with you. Come, let me love you. Come love me again...

Warnings: Bittersweet angst. Allusions to Order 66.

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Closing your eyes, you could almost pretend like it wasn't real - like there wasn't a war outside.

The sunlight danced upon your skin in a sweet embrace of a comforting warmth. If you kept your eyes closed, it felt like home. The smell of lilacs drifted through the trees; the long grass tickled the bottoms of your feet. They were here - all of them. Your boys in white. The same in face but their eyes told stories of their own. Some faded, flitting about as ghosts - only here to guide brothers still standing - but all were clad in armor of their chosen colors. They seemed content. No war here, only peace. The sleepy crashing of ocean waves, wind whispering through the sky and the feather-soft song of birds floated through the air in gentle harmonies of a melody you couldn't begin to describe. Familiar - yet an ethereal mystery.

"Dance with me, Mesh'la?"

The words sounded strange coming from the mouth of a battle-worn clone. Grey armor worn by a scarred face with one eye replaced by cybernetics. Intimidating; observant; yet kind and gentle in touch. Only you could see the man beneath the solider. That side of him made itself known for you and only you. What was once a weakness he hated, now became his strength to carry on.

Commander Wolffe was never one to give in so easily. Neither were you. He couldn't wrap his head around whatever cosmic force demanded that he hold you close. The angry storm of battle that raged within him seemed to quell - commanded into a silent peace - simply by having you near.

In a dream, the simple melody seemed to swell with pearls of youthful laughter as he took your hand and spun you around. If he could drown himself in that beautiful sound, what a way to go it would be.

Drifting through the waving grass, he held on tight as if upon letting you go, he'd float somewhere far away.

In a trance, together you drifted, like time itself did not exist. Nothing existed save for the grizzled Clone Commander and the object of his desires.

A gentle hand lifted your face to meet his eyes. Rough and calloused fingertips that soothed like sand.

"I have to go, Mesh'la. Duty calls."

Your lips moved as if to whisper a soft, mournful plea, yet no words were spoken.

Please don't go. Not yet.

As if called down by the pain of parted lovers, a misty rain began to fall. The universe itself was crying, mourning the violent innocence of artificial creation. Yet the rain was not all for sorrow. It felt cool and comforting - as though to sooth your fears - like the lips that ran gently across your face, telling you that everything would be okay.

Come, let me love you.

"One more dance?" The words came softly, slipping out as little more than a whisper - but you knew the words were heard.

"One more dance, my love. One more song."

The rain continued to fall, lightly tapping the leaves, wetting the soil where flowers bloomed - one for every fallen brother.

He was all around you. Strong arms guiding you through vibrant petals of red in a field of poppies that danced in the sweetness of a summer breeze. The aroma of a musky cedar and lonely petrichor intertwined and spiraled upwards emanating from somewhere around you. His scent - the one with which you had associated him from the first time he'd spoken to you down in the gardens of the Senate building that fateful morning.

Around and around he spun you, holding you together with arms that you supposed were strong enough to hold the world - dancing in the rain to that strange enchanting melody. Everything else apathetically faded into nothing as you let him fill your senses with that pure, yet melancholic bliss.

"Won't you stay?"

Let me lay down beside you. Let me always be with you.

Never let me go.

***

The low rumble of a brewing storm woke you with a strange gentleness. You lay unmoving beneath the sheets, unfocused eyes gazing blankly through the ceiling as though trying in vain to retreat back into the Commander's longing arms. The sensation of his lips lingered on your skin as you touched your cheek, fingers brushing the ghosts of his kisses. They came away wet. Only now did you realize the falling tears were your own.

Something had happened. The world was different now. The galaxy was grieving. You could sense it in the air and smell it's metallic sorrow in the rain as it fell outside the open window. A feeling of wrongness pervaded your senses. It was mournful and empty.

Commander Wolffe wouldn't be coming back this time.

Maybe someday. Maybe not ever.

Like being led once more through an unfamiliar dance, you rose and took the dress you'd lain out the night before. It hung lightly down to the knees, adorned with red poppies.

Perfect for dancing.

Quietly you hung it back on the wall. You would wait for your soldier.

Come let me love you.

Only then would you dance again.

Come love me again.

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wellpresseddaisy · 6 months

Text

And Wishing I Was Gone, Going Home

Rather belated, but for the 4th prompt, Home.

His mother never told him magic had a smell.

She’d taught him so many things in their shabby kitchen in Cokeworth, but not that. He’d thought it her perfume, the subtle scent of petrichor and stormy seas that hovered about her, even on days it didn’t rain.

And girls like Lily, well they just smelled nice, didn’t they? She made him think of the first warmer days in spring and those little violets that sweetened the breezes.

He never noticed it on the train, too excited and then too annoyed to smell anything. It wasn’t until much, much later that he realized his housemates each had their own distinctive scent that grew stronger when they cast. Most of them he didn’t have names for until he’d had more experience in the world.

Some of them made him sneeze terribly, like Gareth Abernathy. Looking back, he felt a bit bad that Gareth had to be moved to a different dormitory, but it was either that or Severus moving. Lucius and the other prefects came out of that dorm grim-faced. They never told him what the boys said they’d do if Severus was the one moved.

Even Lucius didn’t know about his…talent. Something told him to keep it to himself. It gave him an edge, once he learned to navigate all the scents coming at him in a day. He nearly always smelled James Potter (grassy, overlaid with something too, too sweet) before he saw him.

He should have known the first time he met the Dark Lord that he couldn’t be trusted. His magic smelled of decay and dust, like the inside of a tomb. It crawled into Severus’ sinuses and stayed there, a constant reminder. Why had he pledged himself to that? He smelled like the darkest of the dark books in the Malfoy library, the ones Lucius pulled him away from with a sharp,

“I catch you near those again, my lad, and I’ll wallop you myself.”

His mark smelled the same way, blooming horribly every time Voldemort found something pleasing. He found it a small mercy that he carried the mark only a year or so before…before soft spring and tiny violets were ripped forever from the world.

The decay kept returning, though. Faintly, faintly he’d smell it through the next decade. He hoped, but he knew one day it would return as strong as ever.

He knew the Potter child would play a part in whatever came the first day of class. To see him snickering with the latest Weasley after Draco’s hours-long diatribe on Potter refusing his hand…he wasn’t sure if the headache or the mere existence of another Potter set his teeth on edge more.

Potter…Potter’s magic smelled of the green new growth in a forest. The underlay of it, though, stopped Severus in his tracks. Frankincense and myrhh, the scent of one laid to rest. He knew. In that moment he knew it would be Potter to end the Dark Lord’s reign, whenever it came.

He never knew how he made it through the years of waiting, always on guard, decay floating at the very edge of his senses. The return…that was almost a relief.

Something tickled his nose. Sandalwood and leather and warm feathers. He shifted and…bedlinen? Would his earthly torment never end?

That last night in the Shack…he’d known. Known it would come one day. Some part of the universe must have cared, because he closed his eyes the last time smelling not decay but the clean, astringent wash of frankincense and myrhh.

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

He breathed in, his chest caught on searing pain.

“Lie still, you ridiculous brat. Cissa’s been up three days keeping you from popping your cogs. If you destroy her hard work then we’ll certainly have words.”

Lucius. He’d know that scent and that supercilious drawl anywhere. And…sweet, clean lavender wafted over him.

Narcissa.

“She’s asleep, finally. You should also be asleep, as a hint.”

He managed an interrogative sort of noise.

Lucius sighed. “If you’re going to insist on being an obstreperous bratling, then I suppose I could sit with you for a while. You won’t be able to speak yet, so don’t even try.”

The familiar scold settled something within him. The bed dipped and Lucius sat carefully next to him. Cool fingers brushed his hair off his forehead.

“No fever, at least. If you get yourself into a froth she’ll put me six feet under, so we’ll do this calmly, please.”

It felt a bit as if he was a grubby firstie again.

“Would you like to know who found you?” Lucius asked.

Severus assented. Yes, he bloody well wanted to know who dragged him back to life (beyond Cissa, because of course she would).

Lucius’ low chuckle warmed him.

“Potter did. It always comes back to him, doesn’t it? He…I suppose I’d better tell you in sequence. You never liked a tale that hopped about in time.”

No, he did not.

“Did Potter see…what happened to you?”

Severus managed to shrug. He knew Potter saw the aftermath, but how much else was anyone’s guess. Knowing Potter, he saw all of it and had convinced himself it was all his own fault.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. We’re all free of it, you know? Whatever message you gave Potter, he did the thing properly and…came back, somehow. The Dark Lord’s reign is ended and somehow Potter convinced the Ministry that my family was coerced. How, I wonder, would he know I was given to the Dark Lord’s service as tribute by my father?”

The archly asked question had Severus freezing in place. Had Potter found…he had to have found what Severus left. He’d written it all down, everything he knew that no one else did, in the days leading up to the final battle. Trust the nosiest arsehole he’d ever had the misfortune of teaching to ferret it out.

“Ah, yes, apparently he also delivered quite the impassioned speech on the many ways the magical world has failed in the last several generations to the detachment of Aurors about to descend on my home. Thankfully the dossier information kept us from being arrested. I expect I’ll have some questions to answer.”

Severus agreed with that. But oh, what he’d give to see a memory of Potter doing that.

“Apparently, some time in the middle of the night, Potter remembered you and came charging up to the front doors, hammering on them and shouting. By the time we got down to open them, as we’d sent the elf on duty to bed, he’d been joined by the Weasley boy and that Granger chit who were unsuccessfully trying to calm him down.”

Severus snorted at that, but carefully.

“Quite,” Lucius agreed. “As with anything involving Potters, we unfortunately devolved into farce. Potter, who apparently never washed despite battle and being covered in what looked like most of your blood, having hysterics in the entry, shouting teenagers, such a wonderful scene. Granger kept trying to take over and the Weasley kept trying to shove them both behind him. Thankfully, Granger gave Cissa what she needed to know to mount a rescue and Draco got Potter calmed down.”

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, he got an elf to bring some of that revolting tea you like, sugared it ‘til the spoon practically stood up, and barked at Potter that he’d either drink it or be stunned. Weasley didn’t like that much, but seemed mollified when Potter did as he was told. I confess that I don’t particularly like the way Draco looked at Potter, but I expect I shall have to bear up under whatever Draco tells us.”

Severus snorted again.

“Cissa, Granger, and I went to get you while Draco and Weasley handled Potter. You…Severus, if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you myself. You looked dreadful and it took all Cissa’s skill to drag you back from the brink. Your robes are a loss, I’m afraid. Our laundry elf burst into tears when asked if they could be saved.”

Trust Lucius to focus on something like robes.

“Then we spent the last three days not being arrested and keeping you from succumbing to your injuries. I think Draco has Potter ensconced somewhere. I believe I heard an argument with Weasley and Granger over that. Something about clearly no one else is taking care of him and he’ll let them know when they can visit.” Lucius sighed. “He’s like his mother.”

And, Severus thought, his father, who looked at a ragamuffin firstie and decided that clearly that child was his.

“I don’t want to hear one word from you.” Lucius tapped Severus gently on the nose, a fond smile softening his features. “You need sleep.”

He wanted to protest, to ask for the memory of Potter, covered in gore and having hysterics in the Hall, but he knew a futile gambit when he thought of one. Lucius could be as unbending as Merlin’s staff. He sighed.

“Yes, I know. If you behave for Cissa, we’ll share our memories.”

That would have to do. Severus let himself relax slowly, let the sandalwood and lavender of Lucius and Narcissa wash over him.

Home. They’d brought him home.

#severus snape #snapetober 2023

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kthecutest · 6 months

Text

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚　小さな光 : Tiny Light　˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

┏━━━✦❘.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. ༻༺ .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹❘✦━━━┓

A Lone Wolf’s Aching Heart .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

The fresh breeze of daylight swirl past the hanging wisterias. The birds chirped and the flora-scented wind let out a low howl. The couples under a deep shade of purple, the array of lights shimmering through the spaces between the ruffling leaves.

“…Sooha..”, a faint voice called out from the woods; Kei gritted his teeth, clenching tightly onto his shirt. Even after acknowledging that his first love shall never reciprocate his sentiment, he couldn’t help but peer over the two in pure agony. Kei backed away from the scene, heart in-need of a break. He wondered off further into the echoing woods – “just a quick stroll will probably help clear my aching head.”

A Figure Engulfed In Fog .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

The ripples of the stream echoed through the lone walk of the boy. The spring was almost-magical, leading him to an unknown stray of subspace. A splash of the warm settling water appeared to have break Kei’s focus as he turned his direction to where the sound arose. A skin as smooth as glass, lips – the shade of the fallen maple leaves, and those set of galactic eyes; each stellar almost linking up into an art of constellations. Every curve and edge of you was visible to the wolf’s eyes, as the fog from the onsen did little to cover your distracted figure.

The temperature that remains after being touched by kindness 優しさに触れて残る温度

Kei felt… almost hypnotized by the beauty.

He didn’t rush to make any further movements though – scanning his eyes around the young lady, setting his eyes on a unique shaped lamp which quite literally intrigued his curious mind, and the pile of clothes that sat near the lit up light source. Something else did provoked his eyes though – and that same something seemed to have revealed your identity to him. At first glance, you were simply a human with angelic features but now, up-close, Kei squinted his eyes to find the tall pearl-white witch hat that sat on top of the cloth pile. On personal thoughts, you didn’t seem like any harm to Kei; rather you even stood as unique presence to him – but considering what he’s heard of witches around the school, he couldn’t seem to draw a line between good and bad in you.

If I could say I love you without disappearing 消えないまま愛しいと言えたら

Will my heart become lighter? 心は軽くなるかな

But the lone wolf, deep in thought, seemed to have alerted your bathing figure as he took a small step forward – the spring water letting out a soft splash. You who’ve now noticed his presence practically booked it. Grabbing your pile of outfit in a hurry as you sprinted away from him in the stream water; the fog slowly starting to wrap around you the further you got.

“Hey! Wait no I won’t hurt y-“, Kei couldn’t even end the sentence before you were gone before his eyes, the fog completely engulfing your panicked self. “.. I wanted to talk..”, the boy looked back down to the rippling fluid with a slight frown.

Forgotten Souvenir .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

No longer having any reason to stay, he turned to leave only to catch his eyes on something the witch seemed to have forgotten. Kei moved across the water and crouched down to stay at eye level with the lamp you’ve left behind. Now witnessing its beauty up-close, he could tell there was something unusual about it. The lamp’s borders were shaped more sort of something from ancient times, a medieval way you could say and inside it wasn’t a candle or a bulb but a floating pyro particle that takes the form of a firework. “Hmm.. how strange – but I’ll definitely be keeping this” – Kei smiled to himself.

Memorial Visitor .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

The feather-light fabrics that adorned the window danced and flowed in a fluid-like motion along with the intrusion of the cool northern wind. Moonlight streams in from the eerie window, illuminating the porcelain-colored fabrics that draped over her curves like a tapestry. The cushiony mattress felt like an unwavering giant fluffball under Kei who was in a deep slumber. Normally, his particular breed would be out under the glistening moonlight, off to whatever business but tonight – Kei felt that he’s far invested in his beauty sleep. The lamp kept from the dawn’s meeting still lit up on the bed-side table. The overflowing vermillion of the lamp seemed to have attract the attention of a midnight visitor.

Behind the closed door 閉ざした扉の向こうで

I can hear a faint voice 微かな声が聴こえてる

A soft thud of a heel clicked on the floor – heeding warning to the sleeping wolf – a glistening fabric adoring the figure and those same twilight lavender eyes reflecting the vermillion glow. The footsteps approached the sleeping figure on the bed, a dark hand reaching out to grab the well-lit lamp. But before the mysterious figure could accomplish its scheme, a set of golden eyes peered over from the shaded bed. The intruder attempted to grab the light source before sprinting past Kei’s sight – but it was in vain considering the wolf’s superhuman agility.

Even stepping out 踏み��すことさえも

Because I can't do it 出来ないから

You let out a soft yelp feeling his tight grip on you, wolf claws digging into your soft flesh. A loud thud broke through the silence of the room as the medieval lamp fell to the floor. “Who..”, before Kei could question the entire situation, he took great notice of your attire – the same fabric he saw the other day and the very same witch hat which seemed impossible to mistake. “I’m sorry for taking your lamp, the other day.”, Kei tried to nervously start up a conversation, trying his best to not make you run off on him again.

“I only have one, so I must take this back”, you replied in a monotone voice – Kei’s eyes widened in surprise. Not that he was trying to pick up any assumptions of you but based on how you were so softly dressed and the fact that you’d always escape from his sight every encounter, he had an impression that you’d speak in a gentler shy tone. Now facing your slightly colder and monotone words, his brain tried to register his very next reply to your contradicting tone. “Um yes sure-“, Kei paused as you turned to leave receiving your fair share of answer. “Wait! Please!”, he let out a yelp alerting you to turn back.

The witch alerted by his request turned to look at him, confusion in her eyes. What you’ve expected the encounter between you and this wolf must all just be coincidence orchestrated by the universe and that it’d all end once you leap your way out this window. But surprisingly, the wolf standing before you rather seemed hesitant and against this will. “Do you… maybe want to at least have a chat?”

“Hm sure”, the witch gave in after a short moment of hesitation, a light smile casting on your face in contradictory to your calm and unwavering tone. “Aren’t you a werewolf? Why aren’t you out with your friends?”, you questioned him, peering down at his friend group from the high-up balcony. Well that was rather a very straight to the point talk considering the witch had completely gone past the point of formal introductions – Kei thought. “Hmm just didn’t feel like it tonight”, only receiving a simple nod from you in return.

“Name’s Kei, may I have yours?” – “My name? ……..”; oh just like the past differences, the witch really possessed a name which completely differs from her rather calm personality.

I'm leaning into loneliness 孤独に寄り添ってる

Gone With The Hours .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Surprisingly your whole attire and personality is pretty unexpected for a witch, no?”, Kei let out an internal thought of him which made you scrunch your face slightly. “Well- that’s- pretty offensive no? But sure you could say that. I take over the form of my sensei.”, your tone slowly swayed from a calm one to a rather saddening tone. Kei took slight notice of it. “We end our conversation here tonight Kei.”, you rose up from your seated position, in a blink of an eye – “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back for another visit” – your figure was already sat on the window frame. “Wait but-“, Kei reacted fast but you were gone once again, the heavenly canvas of twilight hours slowly fogging up before you dissolved within the foamed air. Kei let out a sigh. Guess he’ll have to wait for the next visit once again.

Still alive in this heart まだこの胸の中生きづいたまま

Feelings like a small torch 小さな灯し火のような想いを

Don't let the wind blow you away 風に吹かれぬように

Unwavering Promise .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back for another visit”

The witch visited the lone wolf every day. Eventually also blending into Kei’s friend group as you get to befriend his pack – you were closest to the two younger wolves Yuma and Taki though, which did provoke the eldest, Kei, at times. One of the elder members of the pack, Nicho would always make jokes about how Kei’s eyes stabbed daggers to any entity that seem to approach ‘his witch’ – which you took lightly off. Or did you? But, you publicly hanging out with the pack didn’t go unnoticed by their school.

Always try not to get wet in the rain 雨に濡れないようにずっと

I was hugging you 抱きしめてた

A Witch’s Reputation .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Look. Look. That witch is back again.” – “She sure is taking her time with whatever scheme she’s got huh? Hm so disgraceful, a witch at our school” – harsh insults and assumptions thrown left and right as the elegant witch streamed past them, the same words falling on deafen ears.

It wasn’t that witches were considered nemesis to wolves but your class was prone to have an evil reputation which provoked any other caliber to be wary. Often the main reason why, every witch always stood lone in the depths of forests, only a single cat to accompany them.

But there were also other, more shameless, comments made by what you could consider – jealous fangirls. “Ugh she’s back again, look at her attire – I know for a fact this whore only ever picks the sluttiest outfits to pay a visit to the boys” – “What else would she want from them? Probably is trying to sleep around with the whole pack.” – the uncivilized females exchanged nods.

Just stay straight and have the strength to wish ただ真っ直ぐなまま願う強さも

The Witch's Departure .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“…….! Please come back soon” – Yuma pouted while the younger companion, Taki clinged onto you with puppy-like doe eyes. “Guys, I’ll just be gone for some days, calm down. I’ll be back for another visit soon.” – “Still even so, why daysss? Last time I checked you only ever go back for a few hours to grab some stuff" - you were met with several protests from the friendly crowd. You let out a chuckle followed by a tease - "Welp, you might just have to deal with it~" waving goodbye to the pack, shifting back into the woods. “She’ll be back right?”, Taki looked at his older member Fuma – “I suppose, I can tell for a fact, she's not one to have the heart strings to vanish without a single trace."

A Tiny Light Amongst The Fog .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Wake the fuck up, you bastard!” – Kei’s figure rolled across the forest floor – an army of shadows approached the wounded wolf who was now coughing out blood. “Seriously, you call yourself the eldest of your own pack when you’re this damn weak!” – a tight grip on Kei’s collar was held, the furious tone coming from the angry student who was now eyeing his victim. “Maybe that’s why he was sticking so close to that icky witch.” – “Don’t you dare badmouth her!” – another kick to Kei’s face landed as the guy scoffed off at his comment, walking away to leave the injured wolf to rot among the withered leaves.

The sparkles in Kei’s eyes flickered at the radiance of a flaming pyro source in the distance A blurry figure approached from amongst the flooding sea of fog accompanied by the same flames of the vermillion light source. Oh if only it was you, dear …….. – was the thoughts buried beneath the unwavering eye contact that Kei kept onto the figure before the fog slowly started to consume his sight and head.

Gratefulness With A Pint of Heat .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

The soft material of the warm duvet shuffled as Kei’s vision started to recover. Sounds of pots and pans clashing, the sizzling of the oil echoed through the unfamiliar home. Looking around the wall, the walls were draped in greenish vines like tapestries. The aroma of the sizzling bacon filled the free faces. Awoken by the tempting smell of the meal, Kei’s eyes were now fully awake. His back left the cushiony mattress, his feet following and proceeding to touch the cozy wooden floor, feeling as light as ever.

Something was wrong. He felt heated all over and it’s like his head and train of thoughts were completely clouded by fog. But as Kei started to regain more of his focus, he could tell there was a slight fragrance accompanying the original aroma. The lost werewolf – relying on his keen sense – to track his way down to the kitchen.

Humming to a strange yet angelic melody, your mind was completely dissolved into the pot of stew you were making – for the sleeping werewolf upstairs. You let out a light yelp as a pair of unknown hands entangled around your waist.

“Huh. Kei? Oh you’re awake. Are you-“, your question was cut off quickly as you felt his fluffy hair tickling the edges of your cheek and your neck. His forehead rubbing against your neck, you could feel his extremely heated body up close. “Kei. Do you have a fever? Hold on I can find some medicine for you.” – he didn’t give out any reply which made you certainly worry further. “Hey, if you’re not feeling well, we can g- Ack!”, you flinched in panic at the contact of his lips and the skin on your neck. “Mmmm..” – the wolf only let out slight whimpers, he seemed to be in some kind of drugged state, but you didn’t remember giving him any nor the bullies. You couldn’t keep your thoughts together any further when you felt something huge poking and rubbing constantly on your back. Your answer was finally given – he was in his rut.

Abandoned Wisdom .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

Despite your weak form, you were one knowledgeable witch, except your wisdom is all stored in a single book not in your head. You reached out to a thick rusted book at the corner of your sight, one full of every fact about every creature that you’ve researched about. “There’d probably some ways to help a wolf in rut, other than sex, written in there” – you reached out your hand in its direction with full hope that the clinging werewolf on your back would soften up. But you were proven wrong when Kei’s large hands caged your two hands together, bending you over on the kitchen counter in the most sexual way.

“Kei. Snap out of it, just let me get the book first” – letting out a protesting growl Kei pressed his fully hardened cock further between your hips. It was rock hard, huge too – even in his human form, considering Kei’s natural breed is a werewolf, he had a much larger physique compared to your smaller figure, his muscles always on full flex, you’d wonder with this kind of body, “wonder how huge his cock would be” – but surely nobody could notice your true thoughts from an upper layer of calm persona.

Your thought process came tumbling down when you felt a hand sneak up the long fabric that draped over your hips. “Kei, wait stop, control yourself.” – if it was just someone else, you’d just let the lust take over and let the situation escalate, but when it comes down to Kei, you didn’t want to leave a whore-like impression of you especially when he wakes up unaffected from the rut.

Futile Resistance .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

Your resistance was futile as he proceeded to take his leaking cock out, lifting the fabric up to, ‘take care’ of your underwear – but his eyes widened in shock at the sight in-front, “Fuck, no underwear? ……… I didn’t knew you were such a whore.” – followed by a low chuckle. Shit, now you’re definitely affected. “You’ve been walking around, every single corner of the earth, without your underwear.. are you perhaps looking for someone to just find out, one day and have their way with you? .. Fuck you dumb?” – “No, it’s currently dryin-“ – his soft lips landed on yours. In contradictory to its utter softness and smoothness, the kiss was rough, messy, it’s as if he’s transferring the heat in him to you through the contact. “I don’t like to hear excuses little witch, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure to fuck the excuses out of you.”

For a calm and righteous witch, you weren’t just full of wisdom but also lust. “I’ve barely grazed over your thigh, yet you’re dripping onto the counter~”, you’ve stopped trying to resist or find excuses at this point, it’d be in vain either way. But this just stirred Kei’s lust and fury, wanting to have his way with you until you answer him and beg him.

Touching and petting him calmly to try to at least calm him a bit only made it worse. You felt something poking out among the field of fluffy hair and it was his ears, squirming and almost whimpering inaudibly to your touch. His tail from behind wagging in a constant pace like a puppy’s. Kei’s large hands entangle around your neck before he turned you straight around with the force in his palms, pushing his cock through your entrance in full force.

“Aaah~!? Kei wait!” – “Honey.. won't you stop pretending now~?, you love it even without prep don’t you~?”, your head felt a stinging pain as he tugged and gripped onto your hair mercilessly, fucking into you in a forceful and aggressive pace from the very beginning point. It’s like Kei was thinking with his cock instead of his brain, his cock was hitting your walls in the most uncoordinated ways, roughly shoving and pounding at every spot.

Having bored of tugging on your silky hair, his next target was your neck. Ripping the white fabric-like choker off its surface, his hands replacing the choker. His fluffy tail was now busy, wrapping around your thighs to keep his composure and spread them wider for better access. “I’d really wish to see your face but I’d prefer this~”, Kei’s huge hand find its way onto your stomach, grazing softly, drawing your attention towards it. Your eyes lit up in a lustful surprise, Kei was far from knotting you yet the entire outline of his cock could be seen through your petite stomach, it’s like he was hitting places that you didn’t even knew could be reached in you.

His licks and bites on your neck and the scratches all over your nape and back felt intoxicating and burning to your skin. It was now as clear as daylight how drenched you were, both of your body fluids mixing and dripping down your lower bodies to where Kei and you were attached. Your head spun in circles as your logics gave up and you can’t help but start begging for more, faster, harder. You just wanted him in you forever, wrecking and ruining your hole to oblivion.

Your desperate whines and Kei’s groans and moans filled the spacious kitchen, almost echoing off of the walls. You were real damn glad you lived all alone in a forest instead of having neighbors, you wouldn’t dare show your shameful face after what goes down today.

Nightfall’s Reminder .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

The closed glass pane of the window reminded you of a setting evening sun, an orange far from reach as the purple replaced the sky’s blues. It’s clear to say, you’ve lost all sanity at this point, even seeing the setting sun of dusk couldn’t help you pull yourself back to reality, as Kei’s werewolf cock had been pounding you restlessly throughout the entire day, never giving itself a rest, or you who Kei’s been using like a mere human fleshlight. Your state was pathetic to his eyes. Eyes rolling back as tears fell in pure pleasure – you could feel your brain leaking out your ringing ears at this point. Your body was limp against the kitchen counter, prepped and ready for this wild wolf to grab you and manhandle you on his cock however he wants. You were only snapped out of your drowsy and cockdrunk state when you felt something expand and tighten in your hole.

A Wild Offering .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Honey, you’ll take my knot right?.. You’re gonna take it real good~ like a good little breeding hole okay?” Shit, breeding? knot? But you surely could not even focus on those words when his knot was stretching and tearing you in half. Yet instead of crying out in pure agony, you were only screaming his name repeatedly in a state of bliss. At this moment, you couldn’t think of anything else but to be filled to the brim by his seed, wanted him to fill you up with pups – “Kei yes yes~! I’m your personal breeding hole~! I’ll carry your pups so… please give me your seed~!” – you rambled out a stream of words, as you came all over his cock, eyes rolling back into your head as your tongue lolled out, your legs giving out in the process.

The witch had completely snapped out of her calm persona – now you were nothing but a cockdrunk whore, cumming and screaming on the werewolf’s cock. “Fuck.. my slutty little witch, you’re gonna be a great mother~!” – Kei’s cum filled you in a frenzy, it was an endless stream of his seed, it just kept coming, overwhelming both you and him in a heated euphoria. Your tummy slowly expanded with his hot seed like a fully pumped balloon. You passed out right in his arms from the entire situation, head laid limp on the counter – as Kei kept snuggling you, rubbing his face like a puppy all over your neck.

You surely gotta get this werewolf back to campus as soon as possible. Not sure if you could handle another fuck he’d have to offer in this current broken state.

Calm Persona .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Wait- Taki! Taki! It’s Kei and …….”, Harua pointed at the school’s gate as the crowds of discussing students, a few headmasters and the pack gathered around at the entrance. Most of the wounds on Kei has healed at this point but his beaten-up form was still evident from the plasters and bandages on his body. “Hey gu-“ – his greeting was cut short by a slap to the face.

Kei’s eyes peer over at the figure; his heart shattered into a pieces witnessing the owner of the lengthy, black hair and the set of bright glistening magenta eyes. “You!! This is what you’ve been doing!?”, both you and Kei were taken aback by her unexpecting furious tone. She was practically yelling at you two. You observed the crowd while Sooha ran her mouth, noticing that the school building looks quite damaged and each person have bruises and bandaged wounds on their bodies.

“We were attacked by some unknown creature! Brutally! And we were even more scared, not having a single clue of your location – and now you have the audacity to return with this witch! By your side!” – the rivalling vampires from Sooha’s side ran to hold her back. Kei couldn’t speak up, at this moment, his brain just could not process or take in the situation.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea her-“, your protest to clear up the statements only turned down when Sooha had to go on for another hit at your statement – “No! You shut up! You’ve stirred enough trouble here and you have the audacity to have a say in this!?” “You know what, yes I fucking do. You don’t even belong in this school, you know nothing about what happened, and YOU have the goddamn AUDACITY to hit an innocent person when this same person was left fucking stranded and wounded in the forest by those vile students!” – your finger pointed at a few near-by students that stood on watch, the same ones that thought spewing insults about you and the pack members was so damn fun.

The crowd filled with gasps as even the headmasters’ eyes widened in disbelief. The atmosphere went completely tense as not even a single sound of the rustling leaves can echo through the air no more. “What..?” – “You heard what I said. Now screw off.” – Everyone observed as they witnessed an unusual switch in your expression.

A witch who always stayed calm and tolerating was now practically scolding the human girl in an irritated tone – well I guess they did saw it coming from how things were escalating. The younger vampire, Sunoo and the elder member, Jake held the shocked and frozen Sooha back, swaying her out of you and Kei’s way as you eyed them in a disappointed manner. You signaled Fuma and Harua to take Kei away as you followed the headmasters into the grand office for a discussion about the situation.

My fragile self is about to burst into tears 泣き出しそうになる脆い自分も

Begone Evil Witch .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“No! But …….. didn’t even do anything!”, the youngest one in the pack, Maki rebelled. “Yes Sir, please reconsider yo-“, the words of Fuma were blocked out by the unwilling headmaster’s sigh – “Look son, we know that too, and we truly are against this but you must know the people outside are stirring more and more ruckus each day. It’s too harmful of a process to further keep her here. The further we keep her, the more danger it’ll bring to you boys, the school and even her.” You understood. This joyful dream of yours wasn’t so everlasting.

One Last Goodbye .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Kei..”, you peered over at the boy, tears threatening to escape from the corner of his eyes. Even if you two only met months ago, there was a deep-rooted string that entangled the both, and he meant as much to you as you did to him. “Here.”, you approached his figure, a gradient of vermillion orange emitting from the witch’s lamp, a source that marked the encounter between the ‘friends’ – clearing up the sight of fog between the both. You subtly handed him the lamp as Kei looked at your once galactic eyes that still held the thousands of stellar that you had from day one. “But this is yours-“ – “It’s yours now.”

You gave him a light smile. Kei knew he was being dramatic – or was he – but at that moment he wanted to break down and weep in your arms. This was supposed to be a mere goodbye between two friends who had crossed paths – yet why does it hurt so bad? He took hold of the gifted lamp, hands trembling – not ready to let the witch go. “Please don’t forget me..”, you let out a soft chuckle – but a sad teary tone underlying beneath your light remark. And just like that, the fog took you away from Kei’s sight; just like how it took you away the first two times.

“I won’t.” – Kei finally gave out an answer to the fog that stood upfront – only the stale sea of fog here to listen to the now-lone wolf’s whimpers.

I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for you 君が居なきゃ知らなかったんだよ

I found my destiny in a coincidence 偶然の中で運命を見つけた

A Bland Stew .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

A pinkish-orange gradient adorned the celestial canvas above. The clouds danced and swirled, making way for the setting sun. The aesthetically pleasing scenario before the witch’s eyes was a contradicting statement to her sorrowful heart. The witch felt lost of time. It was as if time had stopped. Why? You were more than fine with every other sorrowful goodbyes in your life, yet now it’s as if something is missing from your life. It- just doesn’t feel the same no more. You dropped the spoonful of soup back into the stew with a disgruntled look on your face – “Even the stew tastes bland.”

Every time I close my eyes, I'm floating in a sea of memories 瞳閉じる度記憶の海漂っては

Oh Dear Witch, Lend Us A Hand .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

A knock on the front door snapped your deluded figure out of your chain of thoughts. Suddenly a thought hit the back of your head. The only person that knew about the presence of your home was Kei. Is it possible that Kei chose to make a secret journey here? You were worried about the consequences he’d face but deep down you felt your heart warm up in a familiar feeling of joy as you made your way to the front door. Your expectation slightly deduced only to find the grand-headmaster standing before you, Yuma and another pack member, Jo seemed to be accompanying him. Skipping over the questions of “How did you get here?” or “Why are you here?”, all that left your mouth was “Did something happen?” A worry and doubt hit the back of your head seeing the increased amount of bruises on the younger members and the panicked expression on the leading headmaster. “Kei…”

An Imprint Of Heavens .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

The shriveling piles of withered leaves on the forest floor shuffled and shifted around, making way for a dashing figure. The radiant color of the sky has now been consumed by the greyish white clouds.

An unmistakable imprint on the white canvas formed – a shape of a faded Firework – only visible to the sight of the creator. You knew exactly what this was; this was a part of your thought-out plan. The lamp you’ve gifted to Kei was of to good use. The witch sprinted through the forest, tracking down to the location of the faint heavenly imprint. Your heels caused a thud as they alerted you of the sudden contact with an iron-like material. The sputtering and splashing around of the spring water in the background accompanied the faint thudding below your heel. As you looked around, you could recognize the familiar scent and warmth of the strange region.

Gently, shifting away the piled-up leaves above the hidden entrance, you leaped into an endless spiral of abyss – peering over at the streams of dim sunrays at the very top that seemed to be fading in a whiff. As you felt the tilt of your heel touched the very bottom, your eyes fluttered open, looking around the darker room – “Only if I had my lamp right now. Huh?” – your comment was left unattended as you saw a glint of vermillion in the distance. “Wait, that color.” You recognized that it came from your very own lamp. “Kei.”, your voice still calm but apart of you overwhelmed in worry as you followed the path of light beam. Muffling noises increasing in volume every step you took, closer to the flaming source. The witch let out a gasp when the scene started to make clear appearance to her sight.

After a deep dream, I was looking for a trace 深い夢のあと面影を探してたんだ

The Wrong Path To The Light .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .��˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

Chains shuffled around as Kei’s screams were muffled into the tightly-shut iron muzzle. Your figure was instantly on his, trying your best to break the entangled chains as best as you can. Though, it was not working given that witches were only granted with wisdom of spells and curses accompanied by a weak physical strength. You raised your hand, concentrating a spell – ready to break the chains when you suddenly felt a prick at your nape. You placed your palm onto the burning skin, turning around to find a set of red glistening eyes.

“A- a- vampire..” – not being accustomed to screaming when in danger the witch could only let out a slight remark of her discovery before her figure fell straight to the floor. The chained wolf could only scream and cry into the muzzle as he watched your limp unconscious body get dragged away.

Sealed Prisoner .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

You’ve now lost track of time, waking up in a dark sealed room, your legs chained to each other, as you slowly lose hope of escaping let alone to save Kei. Normally, being locked up had the easiest solution to you – just use a spell to break out of course – but it seemed this villain had long known your identity; the paper sigils pasted all over the room, the floors and the ceilings made it impossible for you to escape. Concentrating an incantation was pointless. You dragged your limp body across the cold floor, the scratching of the long chain echoing – some parts of you still under the paralysis effect. You banged onto the caged door, refusing to scream and give out your now-worthless pride but your stubbornness only led to faint sobs.

You were worried and scared and terrified – not for yourself – but for the locked-up wolf that you failed to rescue right in front of your eyes.

In the unchanging monochrome days 変わらないモノクロの日々に

A Reminder Of Vermillion .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

Having no access to the daylight nor the wisteria scented breeze of the forest, you were losing track of time and hope. You knew it’s only been a few days but it was now evident that the one behind all this had intended for your demise. Not that you’d have anything to say about it that is. Peeking at the strange-looking ceiling you notice a thread-like crack on the edge of the dim hanging light source. Gripping onto the long chains attached to your leg, you hurled them up to the lowly hung lamp as you started to pull at it the best you can. A few more pulls until the crack started to grew like the roots of a blossoming tree – slowly spreading until the piece of ceiling came tumbling down. Panting exhaustedly, you pushed and dragged the heavy pieces of fallen concrete, piling them up into a heaving stack. Peering over at the endless void above that had replaced the presence of a ceiling, the witch gripped onto the first piece that stood upon her small figure.

Because you add color 君が色を添えてくから

The Final Slumber .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“Oh… how sad, even your little friend can’t help you out your poor state now..”, the red-eyed villain gripped at Kei’s muzzle aggressively. Your eyes dilated as you peeped at the bloodied scene. The dark blood dripping down the serrated blade covered in excruciatingly fierce teeth, as Kei’s body laid limp on the floor, chains pressing onto the punctured wounds – he was practically on the brink of death. It was going to be impossible for you to sprint across the distance between your hiding spot and the scene with the dangling chain attached to you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, as you hurriedly tried to cast an anemo spell – eyes fixated on the weapon in-hand. In a matter of seconds after launching the attack, the witch was already sprinting towards the two. “You!-“, the frustrated villain turned his head to your way before his figure along with the weapon was knocked away by the scattering wind, pinning them straight to the worn-out wall of the dungeon.

Unlike the spell-proof chain attached to your leg, the chains entangling Kei’s body were aimed to only restrict his motions – which meant your magic would most likely be the key to his release. Using a corrosive spell on the chains seemed to have worked as the knotted sections started dissolving off of the werewolf’s body. “Hang on, Kei, I’ll get you out c’mon” – as you proceeded to carry his unmoving body, you felt a piercing pain across your back.

It felt almost as if you’ve been cut all the way through diagonally. You could see the blood pool around you in an instant as you heard the panting and groaning of a mad man. “Fuck, you know what you’re pretty wise little witch, I’ll give you that.”, a screeching laughter followed as your injured figure fell into Kei’s arms. Despite being on the edge of losing consciousness, Kei still could see, hear and feel everything; feel his heart contorting in agony from the sight that he must witness.

Before I knew it, even the blurred past 滲んだ過去さえもいつの間にか

It's starting to make sense 意味を持ち始めてる

The vampire proceeded to approach the wounded two, slowly, each step eliciting waves of fear. You could hear Kei’s panicked pants echoing into your ear the longer time shifts on. By the time the red-eyed villain had his scynth-like blade high up in the air, in ready motion to slash both you and the wolf beneath, your hand could feel the touch of a cool hard material beneath – the chain, the chain that was draped over Kei just a few moments ago. Grasping it, your figure sprang around in the blink of an eye, the cool touch of the chain raveled around the neck of the ambushed villain. Tugging at the chains until his face started to turn pale from the loss of oxygen.

“Die.” – you felt blood stream out of the open wound on your back as your vision started to fade. Catching a glimpse of the unmoving, unbreathing, lifeless vampire, the witch could finally let herself slip into a deep slumber.

Stuck In The Stillness .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

The cold wind from the north blew, messing up the boy’s ruffled hair, blood seeped down his lips as he’s been biting too hard onto them – Kei was still deep in thought. Beside the wolf in desperation is a laying figure on the bed, bandaged up and wired up all over its chest. Kei held onto your hand tight like a child who’s trying his hardest to hold on tight to their leaving mother.

It's still hidden in my heart まだこの胸の中隠したままの

These feelings are so dear that it hurts 痛いほど愛しいこんな想いを

Before it disappears someday いつか消えてしまうその前に

The very moment Kei returned to campus with a bleeding body of a witch in-hand, the headmasters overwhelmed in worried and gratefulness instantly, having no choice but to shut down the insults and voices of their own students by force. Finally with their permission and allowance, Kei could only get access to the medical station barely to have you treated.

Panting and out of breath, the werewolf sprinted into the station blindly as he yelled at the medics to treat you – forgetting about his own well-being. It’s only when the other pack members rushed in to snap him back into thought process – to get his limping figure treated as well. Dawning onto him that even after all the bandaging and treatment, you had a lesser chance to survive – considering the impaling slash on your back.

Fuma walked in, sighing as he petted the depressed wolf – head sunk low on your mattress – tears welling up in woe – “A witch could only heal others but not herself.”

“Kei, it’d be best if you went out for some fresh air, you’ve been stuck in this room for forever, c’mon.” – Kei’s only reply was a nod, his eyes swollen and gloomy as he grabbed the faded vermillion lamp on the bedside before heading out.

The grass danced along to the swaying of the dusk’s breeze, suspending tiny bits of Kei’s woe. He dragged his slightly limp body across the school garden, letting the wind takes its course on swaying his hair at its will. Thoughts filled in his head as even the wind failed to knock them straight out. Perhaps, these thoughts didn’t forge in Kei’s brain but his heart. The noises of his pack members and the other students having fun, yelling and cheering like children – blurred out in the background as he took one look up at the balcony of the room where you lie, heart and soul drawing back to the time – the time when he’s made out the definition of the fire-work-like pyro source held in-hand.

The only person I want to reach is you 届けたい人は君だけなんだ

Any tears, any smiles どんな涙もどんな笑顔も

Because everything is for you 全ては君のためにあるから

Fate Of A Sealed Firework .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“………” – “Yes?” – “I realized the light in your lamp is shaped like a firework. Is there perhaps any meaning behind it?” You gave Kei a nod, a light smile making its way to your face – “I do love them but it’s been over centuries since I’ve last seen one.” Kei watched as your tone shifted from one of calmness and willingness to a more sorrowful, gloomy tone. “Hm.. but I heard firework festivals are pretty common, no?” – “Yes but the last time I’ve ever seen them was with my late sensei.” – Kei couldn’t help but want to take back his question immediately, being reminded of your tone when your sensei was mentioned ever since the first night you two met, he’d wished at least he’d been wary enough not to remind you of it again. “I’m sorry to hear that..” – “You know what fireworks represent Kei?” Kei stayed silent, quietly being a good listener, “….” – “Joy and happiness. That's why it is the most prioritized accessory in a celebration. But ever since her death, I no longer have anything to celebrate for, to applaud for, to cry out in joy for.” You paused for a moment after your rambled-up words

– “but deep down, I still truly admired and adored them, hence explains this artificial firework-shaped pyro that I’ve trapped in this glass lamp – the flaming firework represents my longing joy that have been trapped in – and the glass lamp that represents my caged heart.”

Still alive in this heart まだこの胸の中生きづいたまま

Feelings like a small torch 小さな灯し火のような想いを

Heart Ablaze .𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

“But out of all people, I’d want to be the one to free this firework…”, Kei mumbled to himself, head low to the ground as he was reminded of your calm and ethereal voice. Would this kind of fate had dawned on you if you never met him. Kei’s entangled thoughts were unraveled a familiar sound.

Don't let the wind blow you away 風に吹かれぬように

Don't get wet in the rain 雨に濡れないように

I held you forever ずっと抱きしめてた

Just stay straight and have the strength to wish ただ真っ直ぐなまま願う強さも

My fragile self is about to burst into tears 泣き出しそうになる脆い自分も

I need you 君が居なきゃ

I didn't know that. 知らなかったんだよ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖.˚⊹.Fireworks! 🪄⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹

I found my destiny in a coincidence 偶然の中で運命を見つけた

Kei sprang around in an instance, trains of thoughts channeling across his head – “what if, what if it was just you…” he’d wished it was you, you awake, standing upon the balcony to bless him with a greeting of a thousand fireworks. Kei’s eyes glossed up in tears, as his wish and prayers were heard. The beauty that he’s met ages of dusks ago, on the edge of the pearly-white balcony. A gentle smile on her face and in her hand a firecracker – shooting out combustions of fireworks.

The lone glass lamp held tightly in the grip of Kei’s hand – the faded firework, glowing in bright vermillion – like the blazing heart of its owner.

The world has changed just by having you 君がいるだけで世界は変わった

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚⊹. ༻༺ .⊹˚₊⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

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uncannysam · 2 months

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PARTIES: @amonstrousdream @uncannysam TIMING: Mid-December SUMMARY: Leila drops by Sam's place for a snack, but comes to find more than she bargained for. WARNINGS: None!

She hadn’t meant to go so long without feeding on the dreams of some unsuspecting victim within Wicked’s Rest. But with all of the chaos that previous months had brought, whipping up nightmares had been the last thing on Leila’s mind. There were projects to work on, people to take care of, elder vampires to kill, and a death-day anniversary to ignore. With all of it combined, it took the waking and dreaming hours of her life. Meals became few and far between. Finally, it had been too much. She needed a dream, and she needed it immediately.

And so, the mare disappeared into that in-between space of the astral and fluttered about the town, hunting for sweet dreams to sour. The town, slowly emerging from the gooey hellscape of autumn, was slowly taking on a more saccharine feel again. Naturally darkened dreams of stress and dread were starting to grow brighter. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

After what felt like ages, Leila found a bright spot of dreaming that her hunger would not let her pass up. She slipped through the keyhole, into the darkened room on the soft edges of shadow and moonlight, following the smell of dreams until she found her little dreamer, tucked away in bed. A feather-light hand rested against their arm to ensure they stayed asleep before the mare snuck her way into their dream.

Sam couldn’t go any longer without sleeping, but she knew if she slept, her gift of sight would go away. It seemed to do that, when her body was actually well rested. But she couldn’t stay up another minute, especially considering she had almost walked out in front of a car today coming back home from the store. So she reluctantly shut off the lights, crawled in the bed with Scout at her feet, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, drifted off into a deep slumber. One she had at least hoped would be restful, if she had to endure it.

Settling in and shifting through the REM stages of sleep, Sam had finally found herself in a peaceful environment. One that she had felt safe and comfortable in. It was full of familiar faces of friends and family. She was back home in Kahnawake. Everything looked familiar, at least to what her childhood memories were, but this time she was grown. In fact, it was as if she had resided there. Wicked’s Rest was a thing of the past, and she had reopened her comic book shop.

Hearing the bell alert her to the presence of someone, Sam had walked out from the back, “Can I help you? Is there something you’re looking for?” Everything seemed like another day at Escape Your Fate, except Scout seemed to be missing, which had felt off for some reason.

—

It had taken the nightmare an awful long time to realize what feeding on dreams was akin to. Centuries of floating on the periphery of that one divine moment on the edge of sleep where dreams were all that were and ever had been had shown her that dreams- most dreams, all dreams- were simply life in disguise. Nightmares fed on that. The bit of life and humanity that made all people dream, to replace the life and dreams that had been stolen from them. Had she not been so hungry, Leila might have been disgusted by herself. By interrupting the remembrance of life and happiness in the place in-between.

But monsters had a desire to live, too.

Unseen, unknown, the mare stalked about, looking at the sweet dream that seemed to be playing out in the stranger’s mind. A bell jingling merrily. Comic books lined the walls as she flitted down the aisles, a bit of breeze. The tang of uncertainty caught her off guard. The dreamer had noted something. Something missing. A string she could pull, perhaps. Some memory she could unravel? Ah… An idea flickered in Leila’s mind, and the mare willed the sound of footsteps in the back of the store. A voice. A thud. Maybe there was something here she could work with?

___

Hearing the sound of footsteps, Sam narrowed her eyes and looked back. It wasn’t Scout. He was right next to her and those footsteps were clunky, like boots. Turning her attention back on the person in the store, Sam noticed a stranger she had never seen before. But quickly the voice; an all too familiar voice. One she had heard almost every day of her life since coming to Wicked’s Rest peaked her interest once more. Zach. The part of her heart that had been missing for months now, but he was alive? Of course he was! Sam didn’t know she was dreaming. To her, this was life, but the thud, for whatever reason, had sent a wave of anxiety shooting through her body, and without hesitating, she was to her feet and running towards the back of the store in the blink of an eye.

Breaking the threshold of the doorway, Sam hit the brakes when suddenly, she was no longer in the comic bookstore, but standing in a dark alleyway that appeared empty at first, until she had squinted to take a closer look; her eyesight failing her in the moment. As she inched closer, she couldn’t help but remain cautious. She could have sworn, she was just in the comic book store. And where was Scout? So badly she wanted to shout out his name, but there was a lingering fear sitting inside that told her to remain quiet.

___

Oh… oh, she’d found the thread to pull.

Whoever the owner of the voice that filled memory after memory in this girl’s mind was, there was an awful lot there. All of it dark. Something in Leila’s chest tugged her forward, wanting to know what it was in this particular thread of memory she’d plucked up and begun to weave back into the story it once was.

The safety of that shop was easily transformed into something more sinister. Whoever Zach was, nothing good happened to him here, in the damp of a dark alley. She wove the scene together quickly, continuing to pull along at that thread as if it were her personal, unending ball of yarn. She created shadows there, just out of sight of the girl. Enough to draw her forward, enough to pull her along and create the suspense that would satiate her appetite. Sam… Sammy… Leila used that voice again, calling out like a mockingbird. The uncertainty was a start. The strange, tickling warmth that filled her chest with every feeding urged the mare to create terror rather than mere uncomfortableness. The problem was that despite her hunger, despite that instinct, she was curious. She wanted to know what happened. Wanted to see for herself.

Sammy, where are you…

___

Sam lingered in her spot in the alley. Fear had engulfed her entire body, and she stood frozen. But Zach was calling for her. Calling her name, looking for her like she had been looking for him. She had to move forward. She had to go find him. She couldn’t leave him. The way the guilt was swelling up in her small form made her heart seem to shatter for unknown reasons thanks to the dream she was currently lost in. Not because she could actually, in that moment, remember the exact events and the way everything went down.

With a quivering breath and her heart pounding so much faster than it had been both in the dream and in her waking life, Sam took one step forward, followed by another and another, letting out a soft whisper, “Z-Zach…” If there was something lurking in the shadows, she didn’t want to awaken it to her presence. Her mind seemed to run stories from her childhood on repeat; tales of warnings from the various creatures that roamed the Earth when her ancestors were still a part of the living world, “Zach, I’m here…where are you?”

Sam continued to step cautiously as her narrowed eyes scanned the area looking for him, but so far nothing. She just seemed to move deeper and deeper into the alley and the darkness and impending certainty of doom that it held hoping she would eventually run into him.

___

There was a rush that came with the fear of a dreamer. It was heady, utterly intoxicating- the first time she’d experienced it, the mare hadn’t known what to make of it. But as existence had stretched on and on, Leila had finally been able to pinpoint it. The racing pulse and sharp intakes of breath were so harsh that they almost replaced what was lacking in the mare. It was horrible, yes. But it was necessary. Without that little act of thievery, she feared she’d dissipate into nothingness.

It was easy to pull the threads together now. The further into the girl's memories that she played, the more elements Leila could call to light. The boy’s- Zach’s- voice, calling out for her dreamer. Letting it go from whispered calmness to hissed fear as Sam’s fear grew. Shadows… she needed to shape the shadows. With a keen eye for detail, she pulled a form from the recesses of the girl’s mind as one might pluck a pattern from a rack. What Leila wasn’t ready for was how much it startled her to see the form take shape. Feminine. Small. A heap of a boy at their feet. Who was this that she’d created from a memory? And why was this body discarded like abandoned prey, eyes wide and empty…?

The voice morphed from the fearful Zach’s to something other. Some cacophony of terrible voices, all crying out at once from this strange figure’s mouth. sam. Sam. SAM. SAM.

___

Sam didn’t want to be the coward she feared she’d forever feel like. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to find Zach. To save her friend. To be the hero she knew lived inside her. Like the ones from her comic books. Even the anti-hero like Maya Lopez. She just wanted to be brave. But the closer she went towards him, the more afraid she became. The more she wanted to draw back and retreat, until…

Seeing the figure form of the woman who had taken Zach and made him her meal, along with blurry shadows of those surrounding a clear image of his deceased body laying at their feet had left her frozen in fear. But this time, she had nowhere to hide. All Sam could do was look on helplessly at not being able to save her friend once again. And the voices…her name…shrill and loud. So loud that she tried to cover her ears, but it did no good. Instead, Sam’s heart was beating fiercely. So hard that it hurt. So hard that she felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore.

Gasping for air, she dropped to her knees clawing at her throat, until her eyes shot open and saw nothing but darkness surrounding her as she tried to adjust to the lack of light, except for that peeking in from the sides of her blinds and curtains. But as she scanned the room, she quickly caught sight of a shadowing figure near her, and without any control let out a blood curdling scream, praying Scout would react, but remembering he was staying with her parents tonight.

Scrambling from the sheets, Sam nearly fell out of the bed and rushed over to find the lightswitch on the wall hoping that once the light was on, it would kill whatever shadow monster lurked in her room and probably moreso in her mind.

___

The dream was enough. More than enough, really- there was so much fear welling up within the poor girl who had been unfortunate enough to become her meal for the evening. Usually, there came a point where the guilt seeped in. Usually, the realization of what Leila was doing to the poor person who was simply trying to get some rest was enough to send her back into the astral. That feeling was what made it easier to weave together dreams in the minds of those who, in some way, deserved it.

But this time, Leila couldn’t leave. She couldn’t bring herself to flutter away to safety, a wisp of smoke and shadow. Instead, she needed to watch. Needed to figure out what had happened, extract as much detail as she possibly could before departing. The girl had suffered, had lost this person whose memory remained like a scar in her mind. She tried to memorize every inch of the figure she’d plucked from the dreamer’s memory. Time, however, was running short. She could feel the poor dreamer’s heartbeat rocketing.

Mere seconds before Sam’s eyes snapped open, Leila was fleeing through the astral, through the crack in the keyhole of the door. What she had seen in the dream lurked in her mind, an echo reverberating over and over and over… It left her curious. Yes, she’d caused some amount of pain here, forcing the young woman to relive the moment in her dreams, but… Perhaps, she could help her. Somehow.

Maybe she could help this dreamer fight the things that remained inside her head.

#para: leila #para: nightmare revisited #amonstrousdream #wickedswriting

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top-tier-tickles · 2 years

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Dark Deception Tickle Au

Holy shit, chapter 4 is finally done. I'm so sorry it took so long, I'm a lazy bitch. I genuinely have no excuses. Anyway enjoy!

__________________________________________

Chapter 4: Part 2

Doug held his breath as he reentered the nightmare. He tried to be as quiet as possible, opening doors in advance so he wouldn't get cornered, and utilizing telepathy whenever he could, despite the irritation to his eyes and the migraines.

As the shard count ticked down, Doug came across a platform with a numbered keypad protruding upwards. He approached it, and tapped one number.

-CLUNK-

The floor underneath him jolted, slowly descending to another cramped path.

He trudged through, noticing another note from E on the wall.

They wrote about escaping from a dollhouse, and ending up in the sewers. Their attempts to find an escape had all been futile. The details about the ducks, how they come from the souls of liars. Makes sense, as they use their appearance to deceive their victims. It also mentioned how silent the sewers were, and that something massive knew they were there.

As Doug read that last sentence, he was suddenly hit with the feeling of eyes on him. Glaring into his very being, watching his every move.

He pocketed the note with the rest, and continued down the short hall.

He entered a small room, the walls made of cages that each held two Dread Duckies in them. All four all them were doing a weird little dance, crouching twice before rotating their body. As there, was nothing left in here, Doug returned to the main area.

Finally, after what felt like ages of walking in filthy shit water, Doug collected all of the shards in the area. But, there was still 191 shards on the count. Following the map, he opened another metal door to the next zone.

The door opened to reveal a huge room with four pillars, a podium with metal wheels on it, and the whole place was littered with the hollow shells of Dread Duckies.

And there was the ring piece on the left side of the room, the barrier still active.

Suddenly, a loud shriek echoed throughout the sewers. Not unlike the one from the monstrous howl from that beast earlier. The area shook as if an earthquake occurred.

"I'm sure that rumbling is nothing to be concerned about." Bierce said sarcastically.

He walked further into the room, following the map to the door that lead to zone 2. Avoiding the spike trap in front of it, Doug entered the next area.

The first thing he noticed was how much darker this zone was. The concrete walls only illuminated by a single white light, leaving the rest nearly pitch black.

It was quiet, like a corpse floating in an ocean with no breeze. The only noise to be heard was the splashing of his footsteps. And the occasional quack that echoed in the distance. The cold air made him shiver and contemplate rolling his sleeves down fron their position on the middle of his arms. He decided not to, though.

"They're hiding in the shadows." Bierce whispered, her voice almost having a fearful tone to it.

She was right. Many duckies were floating in the water where no light touched them, some barely visible at all. The near-silence of the place led Doug's eyes to wander as he slowly jogged through the sewers. He scowled at the walls, caked in layers upon layers of grime and God knows what else. Luckily, he'd knocked the counter down to 97 shards. He'd be out of here yet.

Suddenly, another set of splashing footsteps came into earshot, and a ducky appeared behind him.

Swiftly, Doug turned and swung his arm at the creature, hoping to bat it away. But, he didn't land a punch that would put another crack in the duck's face, instead, his hand was shoved into the crook of where the thing's neck would be.

Despite the outside look of the feathers being crusted and dingy, the feathers underneath were quite soft. So soft that Doug mindlessly ran his fingers through it, jolting when the duck shook hastily and puffed up their feathers. Curious, Doug repeated the action, and the Dread Ducky quacked and shivered once again.

No way.

There was no way this demon was ticklish. Doug ruffled the feathers once more, same response, only stronger. Holy shit.

Suddenly, the mortal dug his hands into the neck feathers and ruffled them as fast as he could, leading the Ducky to hop around and quack repeatedly as a sort of laugh.

It was actually kind of cute.

Soon, the creature had enough and just retracted its legs back into it's body, going back to floating in the water.

Doug smiled, and ran off before the duck woke up. Luckily, the shard count showed only 78 shards left.

He traveled through the sewers, going into large rooms with columns up to the ceiling and crawling with Dread Duckies.

And then he saw it.

In one of the little barred off alcoves, two giant red eyes glowed from the pitch black darkness. Those same eyes of the large monster that grabbed him.

Quickly, he picked up the last shard, and began a mad dash for the altar, Malak close behind.

With a swift grab, the ring piece was his, Doug's lungs burning as his adrenaline went down.

"That's far enough, mortal." A deep voice said from behind him.

There Malak was, standing in front of a pedestal with valve wheels on it, his white and purple suit still perfectly clean and untouched by the sewage around them.

"You know, you're actually the first of Bierce's little pets to actually cause me some trouble. I ought to commend you for your tenacity." The red demon continued, "But, commendable as you may be, I'm afraid your little streak ends here."

A wicked smile grew onto the demon's jagged mouth, pointed ears flicking ever so slightly with amusement.

"Fortunately, watching you run around obediently has reminded me that I have a loyal pet as well." Malak's smile only grew bigger as he went on. "Here, allow me to introduce you, so you get both get more properly acquainted."

With a nonchalant gesture to the large door behind him, it began to open, revealing the monster from the beginning of this sewer adventure.

Malak adjusted his fluffy bow tie, politely clearing his throat.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave. Business calls elsewhere. Oh, and Bierce...I know you're there, peering through your little puppet. I'll be settling matters with you very soon..."

With a malicious laugh and a puff of smoke, Malak had disappeared, leaving Doug to the beast.

The creature, (Doom Ducky, if you will), quacked out a sort of evil laughter as it hurled a hollow duck body at the mortal, who barely dodged it.

"Now that's a huge duckie!" Bierce commented unhelpfully.

Doom Ducky repeated this twice more, before retracting their hands and reeling their head back, ready to strike.

"Use the pillars to slow it down!" Bierce yelled.

Before Doug could rush to the nearest pillar, one of the monster's many hands snatched him up, yanking him over to the giant mechanical bird.

Two hands grabbed his arms and lifted them above his head, leaving his legs to dangle below, rendering him vulnerable.

Another pair of hands descended down and dug their index fingers right into Doug's armpits, causing Doug to lose it.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" He shouted, his legs bucking to release the ticklish energy.

Another pair joined at squeezing his hips, Doug's laughter going up an octave.

"PAHAHAHA-PLEHEHEHEHEASE! IT'S TOO MUHUHUHUCH! EHEHEHEHAHAHA!"

Suddenly, more hands grabbed his ankles, holding the flailing limbs still, while some more began to gently scratch his thighs.

Doug shrieked.

"EEEEEEEYAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NONONONOHOHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Doug desperately thrashed about in pure ticklish agony, trying to escape from this torture.

Doom Ducky simply quacked, speeding up their fingers to heighten the tickles.

Poor Doug threw his head back as tears poured down his cheeks, a wide smile stretched across his face.

Finally, Doug slipped away into the death screen.

When he returned, he had built a strategy for beating this thing. Whenever the demon began to reel its head back, Doug got behind a pillar, which would stun the duck when it bit it. Then, he would turn the valve wheels to close the door.

Soon enough, the door slammed down and his escape was within reach.

An alarm began to sound, and the mortal began to speed boost to the portal.

"Getting back to the portal will not be so easy this time. Don't screw this up!" Bierce ordered.

As if on cue, a long arm from Doom Ducky burst from one hole in the wall. Doug barely evading it.

As he ran, more and more hands shot out to drag him to his death, nevertheless, Doug continued his mad dash through this nasty maze.

Finally, he could see it! The portal! Suddenly, Doom Ducky's head shot out of the hole right next to the portal, thier teeth gnashing rabidly.

With a quick sidestep, Doug returned through the portal and back into the ballroom, happy to be out of that place.

As Doug placed the ring at the altar, he felt Malak's eye burning into him, the eyeball on the door did not seem happy...

"It vexes me greatly that you're still here, mortal." He began, exasperated, "Now she had ANOTHER piece of that infernal ring."

"Every piece Bierce gets makes her more powerful. Don't you get that, meatsack? What do you think is going to happen when she doesn't need you anymore?" He inquired.

Suddenly, Bierce interjected.

"He's right. I am getting more powerful. Powerful enough to fulfill your every wish. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Oh, Bierce, why not tell him what fate befell the last person that trusted you, hmm?"

Bierce remained silent, a rarity, her amused smirk had fallen into a solemn expression, turning away from the two.

'Last person? Does he mean E?' Doug, thought, but decided not to ask.

"Anyway. There's five more pieces to go, love. Ready to try your luck again? Or would you rather just stay here with me?" She crossed her arms.

6 portals to go...

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END OF CHAPTER 4: PART 2

Chp. 1-1, Chp. 1-2, Chp. 2-1, Chp. 2-2, Chp. 2-3, Chp. 2-4, Chp. 3-1, Chp. 3-2, Chp. 3-3, Chp. 4-1, Chp. 4-2, Chp. 5-1, Chp. 5-2, Chp. 5-3, Chp. 6-1, Chp. 6-2, Chp. 6-3,

#Dark Deception Tickle Au #dark deception #dark deception tickle #tickle fic #sfw tickling #tickling

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kimwedlock · 1 year

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In The Heart of Winter

Estimated reading time: 17 minutes

Hmmm...a crackling hearthfire... It's quite a thing when the world outside is white, isn't it? Any other time, fire is something to be feared, something destructive, consuming...but now...heh, well now we adore it, don't we? We gather around it, we feed it, we welcome its warmth and the colour it casts over the cold, bleached world; it brightens even the wood of this old, dreary inn, glitters across these dented tankards, makes that tattered, ale-stained rug there seem a little less moth-eaten. I daresay even the woodworms are marvelling. But the cold...it hasn't truly gone anywhere, has it? After all, a simple fire can't stop a season. And yet...knowing that winter is still lurking outside makes these flames seem almost friendlier, doesn't it? They don't seethe and spit, they laugh and flicker. But...I wonder...would we hear that at all if not for that very cold? ...Heh, forgive an old bard her musings. Winter always slows me down, gives me too much time to think. Come, sit beside me while I tell you a story. There's plenty of room. And bring me a mulled cider on your way, there's a good neighbour. Actually, just bring the whole pitcher. Now, take a glance out through the window while you warm your hands over the hearth. What do you see? It's a silly question, I grant you; what else is there but the snowfall? Drifting flakes of pure winter, floating like feathers and coating the world so absolutely. 'Smothering it', some of you might say; 'blanketing it' say others. But whether all seems dead, or all seems asleep, nothing but time can move winter away. No fire can hurry it out, nor any amount of wishing or yearning. Nor can it hurry it in. "Why would you want to?" I see the words on your lips. But please, keep your comments to yourself for the moment. For 'Summer Smiles, Winter Woes' - are they not, as many other things are, down to perspective? Association? Temperament? Heart? This is an old tale, one forgotten but still familiar, as stories go: a wish against reason, a commitment to something impossible and irrational, powered by nothing more than the blind hope swelling in one's chest. It involves a knight, of course - one of the usual breed: chivalrous, formidible, romantic, determined to the point of raising serious questions about his intellectual wellbeing. He was the Champion of House Aestas, with ancient ties to the summer, and he carried many titles, accolades and honours in their defence. He was a fury on the battlefields, a breeze in the courts, and an artist in his own spare time. But despite his allegience, it was always in the quiet solitude of the winter, when the world slumbered and war was forgotten, that his heart felt most at peace. It had taken only one moment for that to change. His mount had been lamed on their lonely patrol one December evening, a treacherous fault in the road hidden by the depth of the snow. The stirrup had trapped the knight's foot as they'd fallen, and his leg had been crushed under the horse's weight. With no shelter and no help in reach, the soft, gentle, numbing touch of the cold had almost taken him. Never in his battle-hardened life had the knight truly been so close to death. From that moment on, winter's tranquil cloak had been replaced by something else - but it was not, as you might well expect, woven of anxiety or fear. Though it was also no less powerful.

Five winters after that fateful eve, the knight clicked a younger horse along that very same snow-shrouded road, acutely aware all the while of its edge. The world glowed white around him, clouds puffed from the beast's muzzle and through the grate of his visor, and as he breathed deep the crisp air, an anxious shudder hummed in his chest. And when the road soon vanished and the thick, glittering, snow-muffled wilds closed in, it grew to a raging pounding fit to shatter his ribs. Knight and steed descended white valleys, crossed slippery fords, passed unmounted through the black and white tangles of trees, until the wilds finally opened out and a frozen lake stood still and silent at the centre of the shimmering glade. The knight stopped there, at the edge of the ice, and waited. His breath puffed a steady rhythm while his heart hammered at six times the pace. But it took only a moment for the radiance he awaited to appear. A young woman stepped out from the frozen falls, a vision of youth and tranquility. She had hair of silver, snow and ice, skin of the purest ivory, and eyes as blue as the deepest glaciers. She was like a fragment of the landscape itself. And as she moved towards him, her frost-woven gown tinkled a somber melody, and glowed in the thin winter sun like diamonds. And her smile, a smile just for him, was like the rise of the sun itself. The knight's heart blazed like a pyre, just as it had on that December evening five years ago, when her impossible magic had revived and nursed him back to health, and the ache in his soul overpowered him. He surged towards her, threw off his helmet, and they kissed with the passion of lovers kept apart for a lifetime. The chill of the air around her crept over his skin, but he held her only tighter. When they finally parted, the knight heaved a cloudy sigh and cupped Winter's chin in his hand. "Three seasons apart is too long." "You shouldn't wait for me," she whispered, her voice as quiet as the snow. But the knight shook his head, just as he had every other time she'd said it. "I will always wait. I could never love another." "Then Spring," she said sadly, nestling her ivory cheek into his gauntlet, "will always pull us apart." He could bare no other words, and drew her close again. In three months, he knew, she would be gone with the frosts, back to her own realm, while he remained in the plane of man and mortal. And he would not see her, hold her, kiss her, nor love her again for nine. But neither would he hold, kiss, nor love another. Every day, the knight dutifully tended to his master's wishes, and came back to her every evening. He slept in her arms, and she in his, and they walked, talked, laughed and sang together. With the snow flurries, her heart was warmest, her smile most joyful, and when the sky was as crisp, blue and empty as a glacial lake, her mind and demeanour calmest. And in every one of those moments, his own heart was at peace. But all too soon, the season passed, they kissed for the last time, and she faded with the thaw, just as he'd known she would. And he returned obediently to his master, his world and his life, rigid of shoulder and dead of eye, and worked through the spring, the summer and the autumn, until he could hold her again. The cold took an age to return, and, as things yearned for often do, passed in the blink of an enraptured eye; again she faded, the snow melted, the sun rose higher, and the flowers peeked and bloomed. And while the world awoke, his heart returned to its benumbed sleep. But it was after the eighth winter, the eighth parting, the eighth ride back to the world that was his and held nothing for him at all, when his heart refused to quiet. He spent that year trapped in a relentless longing, mindless, just waiting for the return of the chill so he could brush her lips again. He arrived at the lake one week ahead of the ninth winter, and watched the waterside every night, waiting for the first frost to creep and crackle over the ground. He gave her no chance to fully form when she rose from its fingers on that fifth night. But despite his haste, she saw how drawn he'd become, and the dim, faded flicker of the usual light in his eyes. The night sky clouded, and her voice scathed like an ice storm. "I told you not to wait for me." "I will always wait for you," he replied with a weak, crooked smile. "The wait will destroy you. You're withering." He said nothing. He knew it was true. He merely watched her instead. And she saw the thought in his eyes, a thought he refused to voice - a thought he feared would be set alight like a funeral pyre should even half the words come out. And a thought that screamed even louder for that fear. She shook her head with all the regret of the stars and moved up against him, draping his arms around herself. "I can't go with you, my love. I won't survive beyond the reach of the cold." "You control it," he reminded her hollowly. But she shook her silver head again. "I am a slave to it. I can't leave its reach. It will kill me." And how brightly that pyre burned. The pair stayed together through the winter nights, walking, talking, laughing and singing, sleeping in each other's arms. But all the while, the inevitable dogged him like a spectre. A year spent yearning, and the season itself spent in fear. Knowing they would part, three months wasn't enough. It could never be enough. The wretched world began its thaw, the sun chased out the frost, and with that final kiss, the knight's heart sank into his boots. And she saw the thought brimming in his eyes again. "I cannot go with you," she repeated in a whisper. But this time, her words didn't cut like a blade through his chest. Instead, he fixed her with a stolid look. "I know," he replied, taking her hands in his. "So take me with you." Winter's ivory skin drained truly as white as the snow. "No," she replied in a panic, the sky turning from azure to thick, ominous grey, "I can't, you'll die if I do; you cannot survive in my realm any more than I can away from it!" But the knight's eyes didn't waver, as firm as the steel that encased him. "You know this for certain?" Her hesitation was enough. He squeezed her fingers as the condemning sun crept higher through her clouds, she pulled him close against her, and with a kiss that was far from final, the world around them faded with the last of the winter's frost. The chill overtook him in a heartbeat. His lips became numb against hers. But it was a familiar chill - her chill. A chill that grew as he felt her body move back from him. He opened his eyes to find her again, his heart leaping in a panic, but the gleaming landscape stunned and blinded him. He winced and searched for her hand instead. But she'd already taken his. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and he stared at the landscape, cautious first, then struck by awe like the kick of a horse. He took in the white hills, the crystalline pillars, the frozen lakes and bridges, the trees built from snowflakes; he watched the diamond dust shimmering in the air, the light glancing across the huge silver spheres that floated just inches from the ground, and the huge great bands of silver filigree that moved slowly across the sky, casting elegant shadows across the snow. Their fingers laced as he took a slow step deeper into her world, his skin prickling despite his furs, and relief, comfort and wonder eased out in a single, mindless laugh. He breathed the crisp air, drawing it in as deep as he could, unlike any he'd tasted before. It filled his lungs and reached deep into his soul, clearing his every fret. With another breath, it seeped into his veins and purified his blood. With a third, it lined them. With a fourth, it splintered them. His mind turned white, his fingers slipped, and he crumpled to his knees while his heart began to freeze. His rasping throat begged him to cough, his cracking chest begged him to breathe again, his numbing legs begged him to rise and run, to find heat. But he couldn't. Every motion burned in his tightening, seizing muscles. And while panic's frozen grip pierced deeper into his heart, he heard her voice beside him, roaring and chiming like an ice storm. Her hands grasped him, arms squeezed around him, and the world about him warmed. The knight lay on the thawing ground, staring up into the spring morning sky. Alone. Alone, but for the voice that trailed on a tendril of cold, frozen air. 'Wait for me no longer.' The knight didn't return to his duties that spring. Instead of service in war, he scoured libraries. Instead of mingling with courtiers, he hounded intellectuals. Instead of pursuing the arts, he bargained with witches. And only in the dead of autumn did he find what he needed. A legend within a legend, perhaps, but such is the way of things. Either way, the pellar answered his hopes. First bright beam Of winter's moon, Owned by glass Like glacier hewn; Housed and cradled, Of time-attuned, Proud heart 'comes Enchant-immune. It was a long moment that the knight watched the pellar in his dark little hut, while the old man stared back in expectation. "What does it mean?" He finally dared ask. "I must capture the moon?" The pellar answered by taking a glass jar from one of his many cabinets, a jar thick and crackled, but whole. He pressed it into the knight's hands as though it had always been his. "I catch it in this?" He asked, his misgivings tumbling over the glass. "How will this help?" "The first beam of winter's moon, cradled until season's end, will break the spell of winter's realm, and frozen hearts will mend." Understanding soothed the knight's haggard face. "It will protect me from the cold of her world... Tell me, pellar: what do I owe you?" "What can you afford to spare, my lord?" "Everything." And so the knight gave the pellar his entire estate. He wouldn't need it again. When the tenth winter neared, he left for the lake, jar in hand, and captured the first beam of moonlight to grace the frosting ground. The light swelled as he jammed the cork in place, and, for a heartbeat, the glass glowed like Winter's own eyes, before fading to a subdued little pulse. When she rose from the frost a moment later, she could see something had changed. He was aged and weary, but hopeful, and his smile dragged hope into her chest. "I told you not to wait for me," she said as he enveloped her. "And if I hadn't?" He showed her the jar, and explained the pellar's plan. Misgivings moved through her eyes, but she voiced none of them. Together, they nurtured the light through the season, they kept it covered, kept it glowing, and it charged them both with hope. And when that tenth winter began to fade, on the morning of the first day of spring, the knight opened the jar, coaxed out the tame moonbeam, and let it melt through his armour, his furs, his skin, and wrap itself around his heart. And again, Winter took a gentle hold of him, and the world faded and brightened to the realm of silver, snow and ice. His eyes adjusted, the chill touched his skin, but he stood tall at her side this time, and looked again across the crystalline pillars, the frozen lakes and bridges, the diamond dust glittering in the air, the trees built from snowflakes, the huge silver spheres and the bands of filigree moving slowly across the sky. And again, his skin chilled despite his furs, and he breathed deep of the crisp air. And still he stood tall. It filled his lungs. It lined his lungs. It splintered his lungs. And, again, the knight dropped to his knees while his heart began to freeze, and his wretched hope shattered like glass. His lips couldn't curse. His chest couldn't heave. His fist couldn't pound the snow. Every motion burned in his tightening, seizing muscles. And again he could hear her voice, roaring and chiming like an ice storm. Hands seized him. The world around him warmed. And he lay on the thawing ground, staring up into the spring morning sky. Helpless tears finally sprung into his eyes. "It didn't work..." The voice didn't feel like his own. He couldn't feel his lips move. But as his blurred eyes adjusted onto the shadow half-obscuring the sky, he found Winter kneeling over him, and he watched her form flicker, the sky itself shining through. Desperate urgency clasped his hands tightly around hers, and he dragged the pair of them back to their feet. "We can't be together..." "No." Her voice was already growing distant. "We can't be apart." Her lips pressed against his, her cold fingers brushed across his bearded cheek, and as irrational understanding gripped him, he pulled her closer and steeled against the ice splintering through his skin from her touch. The pair of them froze at the edge of that lake, and as their hearts beat their last, the knight's moonbeam surrounded them, the cold light of a winter moon warding off the warmth of the spring sun. When the next winter came, they awoke together and ushered the season in, and they walked, talked, laughed and sang as they oversaw it as one. The snow drifted with their joy, the skies cleared crisp more often, and storms were nary seen. And when Spring inevitably arrived to revive the world, Winter's final kiss froze them again under the shield of the knight's moonlight, until Summer's Woe passed, and Winter's Smile reigned once again. *

The next time you look out through the window, warmed by a hearthfire's glow, what will you see, I wonder? Smothering, death and woe? Or the soft comforts of Winter's heart? ...Would you mind refilling this? The cider's run dry.

---

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theredwritingwitch · 2 years

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Scarcity of Thieves- Part Two

Pairing: The thief x OFC, Both characters are based off of Chilean folklore, Thief is named Pedro but this is not RPF

Summary: The thief finally catches up to his little bird as they go for a tiring ride down the city.

Word Count: 5495

Warnings: lots of stealing, nudity, virginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), stalker (for a bit), exhibitionism, semi public sex (in a cable car at dead of night), one slap to the clit

Ratings: Explicit

Author’s Note: The thief is named Pedro Urdemales, but this is not real person fiction. I don’t write RPF. This characterization and mix of Pedro Urdemales and the thief is slightly based off of Pedro Pascal but is not RPF. I chose to set this in Chile because the folklore fits together so well (and also a small nod to where PP comes from) but again this is not RPF, just based off his character: the thief. The OFC is also a creature from Chilean folklore.

Part One - Part Three

It was the warm Chilean nights that he never got over. They rolled off the ocean and smothered up to the mountains like lazy lovers resting after an afternoon of affectionate and captivating sex. The heavy sea breeze huffed against the mountains like lovers sharing their breaths, unwilling to part and unable to breathe. Nights like those lingered longer. They were the nights people loved to dance away. Nights where people wandered all about the city, languid in their stride and thoughts. Busy nights to unwind and busier nights for those with an inclination to pilfer.

The thief’s hands weren’t itching tonight. He wasn’t in the mood for the conversation that was rolling around him at the garden party at an art dealer’s exhibit. He wasn’t up for the normal plan of break in, take your prize, and get out. He was on the hunt for something he had never caught before, precisely someone he was having trouble catching. His eyes darted around the streets for his golden gal. He had seen her here and there, around corners and across halls, in gilded ballrooms and posh pool parties; yet he was never able to keep up with her. She glowed in her gilded outfits as his own personal beacon, but he was never able to really have a real moment with her. Aurelia never seemed to notice the thief, they danced through alleyways, weaved through crowds of people, and ran in and out of locked doors. But the two never got another chance to be alone together, they had gotten close on occasions, but never close enough. The thief felt engrossed in this long-distance dance, but he was starting to get annoyed.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. How she floated and swayed. How she flew in and out of windows and down streets. How she was just illuminated. He had gone over the scene in his mind over and over again, remembering that tiny dazzling diamond crunched and swallowed down her throat. Even the warmth of her brightening light still tingled on his face after her snack. He felt starstruck in a way but not completely frozen then. More so he was interested in getting to know her better. Maybe take her out dancing, see those hips move under his hands. Or perhaps take her to a local jewelry shop for a bite to eat. Maybe she would like to eat emeralds? She didn’t touch the rubies from the necklace from the tycoon’s estate, so maybe she would be interested in some emeralds instead. The thief eyed some sapphire earrings glittering past him as he ran his finger up the golden feather that he had pinned to his suit. He hoped to see some shimmer of light tonight.

Two of the frames were decorated with real gold, many of the others were painted in a fake gold. Aurelia floated between the hedges and flowers, looking over art after art. Well, more accurately, she was looking at the frames around the art. Hunger was eating away at her. Some of the twinkling gems tucked around people’s necks and fingers looked appetizing, yet harder to acquire. She glanced around the exhibit, people were pilfering in and out of the gallery to the garden where more propped-up art were on display amongst the winding bushes and flowers of the garden. Small chatter sifted through the gallery with the night breeze. A light string quartet paired with the chatter. The night was lovely, and people were having a good time, but Aurelia’s stomach was growling.

She was starving for a beautiful antique frame that shone around an equally beautiful painting of the Andes Mountain range. Aurelia was salivating at the thought of making several meals out of the frame; the question was how to get ahold of it without drawing attention. She glanced around the area, eyeing the couple walking to another exhibit. A small group was gathered in a nearby patio area arranged between several art pieces. Many other pairings of people mingled here and there between exhibits. The timing had to be right, it had to be quick and without pause.

A flash of color moving quickly through the gallery caught her eye. She wondered if her friend from many nights ago was around. She had seen him, just briefly, at the playboy’s pool party a week ago and she had felt his presence at other events. There were stolen glances from across rooms. Murmured words were traded as one intimate dance was shared. She even felt the brief touch of her hair being pulled. Small offerings of diamonds, pearls, and garnets were found in her purse and pockets. She ate each one with delight, even if she knew she needed to stay clear of the cunning trickster. But part of her wondered what it would be like to be fed straight from his swift hands. She wondered what stories they could trade that no one else had heard of, what loves they could share that no one remembered anymore, what lives they could part with that would be only theirs. She even wondered if he knew other old souls such as the two of them, or maybe that was a question to never ask a myth man of tricks and cons. As she traveled through parties and about the city, she had looked deep into the shadows, eyeing them with suspicion that some merry thief lurked and observed her from inside. But whenever she sensed eyes on her, she flew faster than he could maneuver. When she felt a whiff of a touch, she glided out of his reach. And when he taunted her, she only glistened brightly at him.

A large crash and shatter was heard from inside the gallery that turned the heads of all the guests in the garden. Several walked past Aurelia to the gallery, curious to the gasps that were circulating the growing crowd. Taking a few steps to observe the distraction only momentarily, she then pounced onto the painting. Holding the art in hand, Aurelia briskly walked through the garden, away from the gallery, and towards the exit. Winding her way through the bushes and planters, she flipped the art over and unhinged the painting from the frame. Throwing the painting off to the side, she licked her lips as she broke off one of the golden fasteners and popped it into her mouth.

Turning the corner and flying out of the garden, her shine illuminated from a dim twinkle to a timid beacon. Only someone with a keen eye and quick steps could find and keep up with her, which was a good thing Pedro had met a top tier fútbol player the other day. He felt a little bad for taking the man’s athletic ability but less so for taking his gold medals. He held the pocketed gold in his breast pocket, keeping it near for a peace offering. He also felt bad for shattering the large glass sculpture inside the gallery, maybe he would give a donation to the gallery later…once he catched a particular birdie.

Currently his pajarito was flying with her latest meal. Pedro followed her metallic gold dress swirl with every twist and turn of her winding exit. The gilded sweetheart dress taunted him to follow. But it was her sweet, small, and serenading light that brought him to starting his undeniable obsession. Of all the trophies, collections, and treasures that the thief had stored at his estate, none thrilled him or enthralled him like this pajarito.

Alerted by the shine of Aurelia’s dress, the thief took off after her. Zipping down the streets and turning into an alleyway, Pedro jogged after her. He kept up his pace as best as he could, keeping his keen eyes on the dim glow ahead of him. Tonight, she was quicker than he had ever seen her. She hardly slowed down her pace as she glided down one of the roughly paced back alleys in her high heels. She jumped from alley to alley, finding her way to a private yard, guarded with an iron fence. Aurelia easily leaped to the top of the fence and swung her body over, hitting the ground with little impact and flying up a staircase. Pedro decided he should steal a pair of new lungs as he climbed the fence himself. Rushing up the stairs and taking a moment to hide behind a wall before his pajarito saw him as she jumped another fence. Mimicking her movement, Pedro followed her up the street, climbing up the city’s elevation. For a moment the thief considered that Aurelia could be leading him to a dead end where he would end up just watching her fly off one of the higher points of the city where there was a station for air line cable cars. He considered his options on how he could learn to fly as he ducked into the shadows as the sight of another dark figure came into view.

The station was empty as Aurelia bounced over the ticket barrier and up the stairs. She paced back and forth, from the window and to the waiting area to step onto a cable car. The night was cooling down and the large open side of the station, where cable cars came in and out, let a big gust of wind into the station. She clutched the gilded frame close to her as she heard the tiny echoes of footfalls. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she paused a millisecond and continued on pacing back and forth in the station waiting for the cable car to arrive.

Swaying slightly with the wind and grinding to the terminal, the cable car moved closer and closer to stopping at the station just as an unnerving feeling crept closer to Aurelia’s shine. A tiny ding of metal hitting metal made Aurelia jump and quickly fly threw the station to the other side. She was no fighter, but she was good with flight. She bounded down the exit stairs as she heard heavy steps chasing after her. Now outside of the station, Aurelia turned and looked for who was following her. Upon seeing not a soul, she relied on her old instinct: lead and then deceive.

Eyeing the cable car, she noted she was short on time and was on the move. Swiftly she took to flying down the block and through an alley. She didn’t have time to go around the whole bloc and lose her stalker, but she was fast enough to make it to the cable car with this shortcut. Without glancing back, but still hearing the heavy footfalls of her follower, Aurelia continued on through the alley back to the station. She caught a glance of the cable car entering the station and picked up her speed, her glimmering glow trailing behind her. Gliding up the stairs again and over the ticket barrier and to the platform. The cable car was already on the far side of the station, close to exiting. Aurelia paused for a few seconds to eat a large chunk of her golden frame. Now letting the metal sink into her stomach, her aurora intensified to a blinding glow. Now that her hunger was sated, and giving her stalker time to catch up, she quickly neared the open side of the platform, waiting to time her jump.

Aurelia looked on to the city of Santiago below her, letting the breeze ruffle her glowing hair and metallic dress. Her eyes roamed the city under her as they fell upon the cable car. Instinctively, her feet instantly carried her over the rails of the cable car to the other side just as a slim and greased looking hand narrowly missed her arm. She leaped over to the far side of the platform and moved around to the cable car’s still open doors where she glided through the doors just before they closed. The cable car lifted up off the ground rails and into the sky as Aurelia took a glimpse out the windows seeing a small rough man tumbling down the hillside. She sighed out and looked down at the golden frame still in her hands, cooing over how the frame gleamed back at her own glow.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to make it, pajarito.” A smooth and husky voice cut Aurelia’s attention away from her meal.

A grin spread over her face, “Worried about me? I was worried about you. It took you long enough to get some alone time with me.” She turned from the doors to see Pedro sitting on a bench. He was leisurely stretched out on the seat, arm hung over the back and his leg propped up on the other. The thief squinted at her blinding light as his free hand extended to the bench opposite of his, an invitation to join him.

“It’s a lovely night to take in the sites, might as well join me,” a small smirk rose on his face. Any other person, Aurelia would be prying the doors open and flying down the city to get away, but this man wasn’t like anyone else. That devilish yet familiar smirk reeled her in, as you took her place across from him.

The cable car swung only slightly with its steady descent down. Clouds blanketed parts of the sky, hiding the moon away for a moment from the lights of the city. Only pockets of stars sung out, weaving their way down. Twinkling like stars, the lights waved and blinked up at the luminous cable car. All the other cable cars swung and glided through the air with dim interiors while one flew in the dark night as a beacon descending to the city. Aurelia radiated to the world all around them, yet there was a slight shadow cast by the thief before her. She pulled herself back into the seat as she raised her arms and rested them on top of her bench seat.

“You know this is always the best time to take in the city. From here, you can see where the land ends.” Pedro looked wistfully out the window, “Feels like we’re on our own little island up here.”

“And with such fine company,” Aurelia cooed.

The thief looked over her, slowly taking in her bare legs that had a light sheen to them. Her dress fell slowly around her thighs as her leg slightly moved to the light beat of the music playing in the cable car. The dress she wore dazzled amongst the darkened interior as the luster of her hair was begging to be touched and caressed. The thief couldn’t even take his dark chocolate eyes off the shimmering eyes of his pajarito. He leaned forward as the desire in him to take his glowing gem in hand simmered in him.

“I’m glad to have such fine company as well. I was wondering when you were going to ditch that fool down the hill.”

“Just decided to give him a run for his money. You didn’t want to help? Isn’t that your normal job? Teach old fools lessons?”

Pedro smiled as his eyes danced over her, “I was certain you would handle it well. Is that what you normally do? An old bait and switch”

“You know me so well, don’t you?” a salacious smile graced her face.

“I know you shine brighter than any gem I’ve collected. You’re more graceful than even myself. Quieter, perhaps.”

“Bigger appetite?”

“Now I would never make a comment on another’s appetite,” Pedro smirked as he brought out the gold medal from his pocket and dangled in the air.

Aurelia’s eyes flared at the site of the pure gold medal. She bit her lip to the thief, “First a beautiful night ride and now a midnight dessert. You’re spoiling me.”

“No, I think you’ll be spoiling me.”

She looked at the thief as his hands went over the engravings of the medal. He leaned back in his seat as she leaned towards him, “But you haven’t followed me to my treasure or my entierrros.” She clutched her antique gold frame closely.

“Pajarito, I don’t need your entierros. I’ve already got quite a treasure trove.”

“Are you going to collect me as well?”

“No, I’ll worship you.” He brought his eyes up from the medal and gazed straight into her’s. A gentle yet smug smile enriched his face. His eyes swirled with darkness with small twinkles of Aurelia’s glow. The soft breeze coming into the cable car tousled his hair only slightly. The dark gray suit he wore looked slick and held him tightly, his shoulders looked like they could use a break from the trim suit. His large hands continued rolling the medal over and over again as he didn’t dare break his stare from her.

Aurelia didn’t want it to break either as she slowly stood up and leaned forward. She braced her hands on Pedro’s shoulders and gently pushed him further into the seat. Lifting her legs on either side of his lap, situating herself lower so she straddled him, she continued to keep his overwhelming eyes on her beaming ones. She felt consumed by the thick fog that seemed to swirl in his irises, one she couldn’t see through but wanted to dive in.

Feeling the heat of each other's breaths, Pedro waited to see what she would do next. He wondered if he was the first man to have such a tempting treasure in their lap. His hands settled on her hips and slowly rolled over the curves of her thighs, hooking his thumbs to the inside of her legs. He bunched up the material of her dress as his hands rhythmically went back up to her hips and continued on to her torso, resting just under her heavily rising breasts. He paused his movement; waiting, as their breaths mingled, for her to make the next move.

She raised her eyebrows with a smirk that made him chuckle as it was now finally clear to the both of them what they were wanting now. Without a beat, lips smashed together as hands anchored bodies closer to each other. Aurelia buried one hand in the soft waves of the thief’s hair as her other hand clamped around his shoulders, sloppily tugging his jacket off with little success. Pedro’s large hands roamed her back until one finally found its home holding her butt, lifting her lightly for a need to be closer. The other hand snaked up her back to her neck where he caught her in a firm hold. He craned her neck away from him, lusting as she whined from the loss of heated lips. His own found their way to her shimmering neck, ghosting praises over and over again over her heated pulse.

“You’re as sweet as I thought you would be pajarito.”

Pedro wanted to praise her more but was stopped short when a tug came to his head from his pajarito’s nimble hands. His eyes opened up to a simmering pair of eyes that made him curse.

“Do you think others will see us up here,” Aurelia huffed out when she realized the cable car ride was becoming closer to the station at the bottom of the hill.

“I hope they do, then they’ll know I got the prettiest treasure to myself.”

Aurelia giggled as her teeth slowly scraped against Pedro’s jaw, “If we let them see us, then maybe we should also let them hear us.” She arched an eyebrow at him.

The thief knew an opportunity when one was presented. He surged forward with his pajarito in his arms, and as she squealed to the air, he shifted her down to the floor. Stripping off his jacket, Aurelia ripped open his shirt, leaning forward to kiss the slopes of his body that lovingly match the slopes surrounding their cable car. He didn’t let her kiss him too long before he was starving for her. He pushed her back to the ground with his mouth and teeth capturing hers.

Large hands ran over her thighs, pushing her metallic dress up and over her head, and threw it to a corner of the car. His lips found their way to her bare breasts, kissing and licking at her nipples, pushing out her moans, as his fingers traced the line of her lace underwear. Circling and lingering on the lace until her hips bucked up, Pedro finally pulled the lace off and swept through her heated lips. His patience was far gone now as he ran two large fingers up and down her lips, landing on her flaming clit. He slid the small pearl between his two fingers, stroking her in time with her shifting hips. His rough calloused hands slid over the bundle and down to her soaking hole, where they immediately entered. The thief didn’t wait a heartbeat to hear his pajarito’s moans erupt from within her covered and busy mouth. Pedro’s own tongue was too busy stroking and exploring every crevice of her neck and upper body that it could.

Under Pedro’s constant and relentless attention, it didn’t take long for a harsh heat of eruption to build in Aurelia’s core. Pedro continued to stroke his fingers in and out of her, he was desperate for her moans as she was desperate for his touch. He nipped at her jaw and nuzzled at her ear, whispering praises against her skin.

“Can you cum for me? Can you give me that sweet treat, pajarito?”

She babbled out whimpers as he added a third finger to his plundering. Circling her clit with his thumb and stilling his three fingers inside her core, the blunt and rough tips of his fingers stroked the inside of her walls. She quivered at him as she clutched him further into her.

“Can you let me see at least one, will you let me see you?” he nipped at her pulse point.

“If— I give you— one,” she moaned brokenly as she tucked her head into his neck. “Then you're going to want— more.” Pedro felt her smile against his neck.

“I want everything you have sweet one.” He stated, keeping his thumb pressed firmly against her clit and as his fingers stroked her in the perfect way. She screamed out his name, letting any passers around the area know the going ons of their cable car. Aurelia gasped for air and grasped at his shoulders, just as her cunt grasped at his fingers. Pedro watched her with rapt interest as she flew over the edge, seeing her aurora flicker and twinkle. After this cable car ride, he swore he would never let his beautiful light out of his grasp again. Aurelia swore she never saw the stars as she did then. She had always shone so bright herself, blinding anyone who dared follow her. But tonight, she saw how bright the rest of the world was; how alluring her thief was and how she needed to see those stars again.

“More?” she begged with her face scrunched up as if she was sad to only give one orgasm to the thief. He huffed and slowly slid his fingers out of her. He licked and sucked his fingers one by one with his eyes closed in delight. Aurelia squirmed under him. He popped the last finger out of his mouth and smiled down at her. He was amused that she was the one asking for more when he felt like he should be the one begging for another from her. He decided he would still.

“Pajarito, I’m asking you for more of your sweetness. Can I make you cum again, this time with my mouth?’ his eyes pleaded with her as he slid further down her body, nuzzling his nose to her belly, kissing her crotch and thighs. Leaving a streak on her thigh as he licked a long mark on her with his tongue. He quickly nipped her closely to her wet and wanting heat.

She bucked up to his bite and opened her legs wide for him. Raking her hands through his lush brown waves, she felt the wet flick of his tongue against her reddening clit. He hummed as her nails dug into his curls as she gasped as his lips sucked her pearl. His arms hooked under her shining thighs, lifting her slightly as his own hips bruised against the floor of the cable car.

Aurelia didn’t dare to look down at the man between her legs. She didn’t dare see the movement of the thief who was buried in her wet curls, now taking in her juices. She wouldn’t stare at the shadow that had followed her all over Santiago, who was finally getting what he wanted, who was giving her what she wanted as his hand reached around to her familiar clit again. She cried out as those deft fingers found their rhythm again. Crying out to the moan that reverberated against her folds from the thief drinking her in. Instead, she smiled with her mouth fully open as she looked up through the roof of the cable car. The sides of the car were all windows and so was the ceiling; she observed the stars looking down at her in all her wanton freedom. Aurelia sore they shone brightly at her; it had been so long since the last time she took the stars in. There were so many for her to view, so many to view all of her. She gasped and clutched the thief’s head harder as tongue felt its way into her. She fluttered and sputtered out praises to her thief.

“Please, please, please don’t stop. I need— need more— pícaro.”

Pedro hummed in response as his movement stayed the same, but he opened his eyes to devour her own. He quickly changed his plan, moving his lips back on her swollen clit and his fingers working inside her once again. His pajarito cried in delight, looking down to the thief’s eyes as she was surprised at the change in action and pace.

Aurelia cursed herself for looking down at him. She averted her gaze back to the stars overhead, to the fogging glass closing around them, to the steady bump of her thief's grinding hips. She wondered if he would be bruised by the end of this, if maybe she would be barren on the inside from the thief’s determined thirst, she also wondered what stars tasted like. Maybe she could convince the thief to steal one for her?

She couldn’t help herself. She grinned up at the sky as she mumbled, “I know— the people on the street can hear us— but pícaro— I want the stars to know your name.”

Instantly Aurelia felt an emptiness in her cunt followed by a quick slap to her heated wet lips. She screamed out in pleasure and surprise as her vision of the stars collided with an intense white heat. Everything blurred as she sat up and curled up to Pedro, unknowingly pushing his head into her wet curls. She cried out his name again when he filled her up with his tongue and relentless mouth. He held her to him longer than she could stand, so much so that when he finally released her, they both noticed that they had passed the station at the bottom of the hill and were now leaving to go back to the station they had originally left.

“Well another round of the cable car means another round with you.” Pedro spoke as he ditched the rest of his clothes and crawled on top of her. He watched once again as her splendid light dwindled. Their cable car was still brighter than the rest of the cars, just now glowing with a light smothered by fog.

Aurelia laughed and surged forward to meet his lips with her own. She tasted her own sweetness in him. He grinded his leaking cock against her as she tasted her own salty taste. Pedro had never eaten a gem before, nor had he digested gold, silver, or copper. He wondered if jewels tasted as she did, he might have to change his own diet if that was the case. But he didn’t have time to ponder when his sweet pajarito was pushing him against the walled window and mounted him.

“More again?” she pleaded to Pedro. Her nails racked over his bare shoulders and down his chest, past his perked nipples.

He sucked in a breath and nodded, “I’ll always be greedy for you.” He wrapped and buried a hand in her hair, bringing her to his now plush lips. He patted her ass enough for her to lift up as he grabbed his thick cock and guided it into her waiting heat. They both moaned in unison as he pushed past her lips and further into a tight core. She sank down in a fluid motion, so well taken care of by his past need to drench her. Pedro wrapped his arms around her as she was finally fully seated and fully filled. Her tight walls fluttered around him, making him savor the heat and constraining desire. He bucked up fast and heavy into her with her first rise and fall of her hips. Crying out to the dark night all around the cable car, Aurelia could only hold on as she took in thrust after thrust of Pedro's never-ending need. He chased a new desire of his own release just as he chased the need for her third release.

“Gotta ask— need one more— one more sweet cry from you— can you give me one more?”

“Yes— I’ll give you— whatever you want,” she nodded and huffed out with her eyes closed.

“Want you— want you to cum pajarito.”

He helped lift her up and down on his cock, feeling the cable car shift with each thrust, seeing their breaths cloud the window. Soon outsiders would not be able to see what they were up to. He continued rocking into her, one hand clutched to her ass and the other clutched to her head, buried in her hair. She sobbed out to the blurred city lights below them. Flashes of car lights and glows of buildings waved to Pedro as he pushed and groaned into her delicious heat. Shadows that bounced off buildings and stirred through the alleys below, gaped at their occupied car. He listened to the echoes of the city drown away in the echoes of his own grunts and his pajarito’s cooing. Pedro sucked and bit into the skin of Aurelia’s neck as she quietly cried over the edge again. He didn’t relinquish his hold on her as he chased his own fall off the edge. Closing his eyes and burying his head into her lustrous hair, he released and pulsed inside her. His own moan echoed in the cable car as it neared the station they had first started at.

Pedro continued to hold her as he stirred inside her. Both of the sweaty and tired lovers didn’t even look up when the car rounded through the station and stopped as it usually did. The doors opened, but neither nocturnal creature lifted from their hold of each other. The cold night breeze entered and freed their car of its musky smell. Aurelia shivered causing Pedro to lift his head and look over her. She shone like a child’s night light now, so calm and relaxed in his embrace. The shadows smothered her glow while she encapsulated him as well. She smiled and stroked his cheek, regarding him in fully glossy eyes.

“You’ve been after me for a while now.”

“You’re a hard bird to catch,” the thief stroked her back, causing a hum to emit into the rolling cable car that was again on its way down the slope.

“And now that you’ve got me?”

“Do I? Does it count as a catch when supposed catcher has sex with an alicanto?”

“It could. Maybe I’ll bend the rules for you.” She rubbed her nose against his.

“Well then, maybe we could see about bending those rules back at my estate.”

“Feels like a trap to me,” she giggled.

“No trap, just two old souls connecting.”

“Over gold, gems, and riches?”

Pedro shrugged, “Creatures of habit aren’t we.”

“Only in the right way.”

“Just don’t eat all my riches. I’ve got wine instead.”

“Wine will do but…” Aurelia bit her lip and looked around the car.

Pedro grabbed at his suit jacket and fumbled around. Producing the gold medal from earlier, he brought it forth to Aurelia. An exchange to be made for his pajarito.

“If the wine isn’t good enough, don’t say I’m not a good host,” Pedro quipped as he hung the medal around her neck, leaning in and nuzzling behind her ear as her giggle echoed through the beaming cable car.

Part Three

Pajarito- little bird

Entierro- burrows/buried legendary treasures

Pícaro- rouge

Pedro Urdemales- fictional character in Latin American folklore that typifies the rogue, rascal, or trickster.

Alicanto- mythological nocturnal bird of Chilean mythology. It’s wings shine at night with metallic colors and eyes emit strange lights. It also eats ores and can not fly. If a person can follow the alicanto, they will be lead to an entierro. If they are seen then the alicanto will blind them and run them off a cliff.

#The Thief #The thief x ofc #Casillero del Diablo #fanfiction #SoT

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spacecatx21 · 2 years

Text

Love - Hawks x Reader

!Trigger warnings!: reader jumps off rooftop but is saved by her wings. Nothing too bad. Just fluff! Enjoy & thank you for the love on my last post! <3

I sit on a rooftop, alone.

Close to the edge.

Vibrant colors of pink, and purple flash my eyes.

I hummed as I closed my eyes. I reached up to my hair and took out my ponytail. Letting my hair flow freely with the breeze of the wind.

Taking a deep breath, I start to sing.

"Times been ticking, hearts are running. Think cupids up to something. You ask me how I feel, I say nothing.." I pause, then continue.

".. but lately colors seem so bright and the stars that light up the night." Stopping again, I hear the sounds of boots behind me but paid no mind to it.

"My feet, they feel so light."I felt more of the breeze shifting up my clothing. I again ignored this.

"I'm ignoring all the signs. I keep on fronting, yeah, I stay buffin."More wind blows, causing my hair to whirlwind with it. I smile at this.

"I keep you wondering, keep you hunting for my lovin' but I crave us huggin. Yeah, I stay stubborn cause I can't admit that you got all the strings and just know how to tug em"

I felt a something feathery touch my nose. I open my eyes to see a red feather. I immediately look down to see I'm floating on .. feathers?!

Brown boots are hovering the pile. Following them slowly looking upwards I see tan pants, tan jacket, black shirt with a gold design. Looking up more, I meet golden eyes, bright red wings. A smirk made it onto the man's face.

Hawks?!

Before I could say anything, Hawks grabs me. I clutched on nothing but his jacket. As we start spinning in the air, a voice sings,

"I think I'm in love again"

I let out a squeak.

"Please don't drop me!"

I hide my face, in the croak of his neck. The fur of his jacket tickled my nose. Wind whistling harshly against my ears. I felt his chest rumble, as he laughed. My heart began to race.

"Don't worry, I got you. You can only fall in my arms."

He looked down at me with a wink. Giving me his goofy grin. I only roll my eyes as I tighten my grip around his neck. Hawks pull away slightly, hands not leaving my waist. Sounds of wings flapping can be heard.

"By the way, your singing was beautiful."

I looked at him in awe, taking in his handsome features. Bird-like eyes, fuzzy little facial hair on his chin. The man in front of me only tilted his head. probably not minding me staring at him.

Cute.

"Thanks. I didn't know I had an audience." I laughed out, nervously. I heard a hum from Hawks direction.

"No problem. Not only is your singing beautiful, you're absolutely divine, Y/N." He said as he lend back in, taking a closer look. The sun reflected off of our faces, showing how beautiful golden hour can be.

I eyed him as he said my name.

"How do you know my name?"

"I have my ways," he chipped back, before pausing. his face became serious as he spoke.

"I got a call saying that some neighbors saw you walk up to the roof thinking you were going to jump. I talked to them, they informed me what your name was in case anything happened."

Of course. Why didn't I think about that?

"Right.. well I wasn't planning on doing that as you see. However, I do wanna show you something! Can you uh land us back down?" I rambled out, feeling excited.

he nodded as he slowly landed back on the roof. Giving me his signature smile. "So, what's the surprise you're so excited about?" He asks. I let go of his neck as I stepped back, turning around. I take my hoodie off to reveal a F/C backless long sleeve shirt. I throw the hoodie to Hawks as he catches it.

I walked over to the fence, O jump on it as i climbed over. "First, you're going to have to trust me on this. and.. Don't freak out." I looked over my shoulder. Watching Hawks not hesitate to come walking after me. Feathers fly out of his back, flying around us.

"Not so sure if I like this," His face frowns as he grabs ahold of my shoulder, stopping me. I give him a smile, then I push his hand off. "Trust me. I'll be fine." I wink as i close my eyes before jumping off

"Y/N!"

The wind harshly rushes to my face and ears. I slowly open them as I see a blur of colors flashes before me. My back stings as electric blue wings come out of it. Stopping me mid air.

Flapping electric pops can be heard from behind me. Looking up, I see red feathers fly around me. attempting to grab me but to only be shocked .

Flapping the wings once more, I fly back up to Hawks. flying up, the feathers follow me, still flying in circles around me. Looking down, I see Hawks surprised face. I smile down at him as I land in front of him.

"What the hell was that?!" He yells out. Looking at him, his eyes are filled with relief and amazement.

I gave him a close eye smile, "Ah, well obviously that was my quirk." I shrug my shoulders. I walk past Hawks to grab my hoodie.

Shit.. My back feels like it's on fire.

As I put the hoodie on, the soft fabric makes me flinch. As soon as I flinched, Hawks was next to me. I felt a gentle gloved hand on my shoulder, "Hey, you ok?"

Oh no, my heart is in danger.. Here we go again..

"Yeah, just sore. Flying takes a lot of energy out of me." I muttered out looking up at him.

He only nodded. "Want to get a bite to eat? I'm starving for some chicken!" I laughed at him.

"Sure! Sounds like fun!" I grinned at him

Love

#mha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks fluff #bnha hawks #reader insert #Spotify #boku no hero academia hawks

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 2 years

Text

Chapter 22: The hour of battle draws near, and Solara and Fuegoleon share a moment on the night before she needs to part from him, so that she might take part into the ritual that would allow for Queen Anima's projection.

A/N: This chapter is going to be a little short, because it's technically only half of a chapter. The second part I'll as another chapter of its own, because it'll be smut with... a hint of plot. Everything worthwhile knowing I'll put in the summary for those who don't care to read about my self-indulgent smut.

Tag list: @succulentsunrise

Keeping in mind that this series contains themes and topics, some of you may find uncomfortable reader discretion is advised. I will, however, tag the chapters for potentially triggering content that comes to mind at the time of posting.

Warnings: references to pregnancy, talk about war

Length: ~2.3k

Chapter 22: The whisper of a hope

Rain. The droplets that were cast down from the heavens with a force of their sins; thrown against the hard ground, as if a punishment. Or then perhaps there was no point in those droplets beating the ground, and it just was. Or, maybe it was the ground that was suffering from justice being inflicted upon it. But no matter which was the sinner, and which was the saint, the ground and the rain, met. They kept clashing together, creating a sound that served as a background noise as Solara looked out of the window.

It’s good that the sky weeps for us… she found herself thinking. Even if the thought was only barely conscious. It was like a breeze, a faint whisper that she could register only in passing.

But she didn’t know if there was a sense in that thought, the idea of the skies, maybe even the heavens, weeping for them. All of them. Or maybe it was just painting a picture that was still becoming; left, abandoned, on the drafting table, until it would be pulled from the pile on that desk, and slapped onto the stage that was the world.

Maybe there wasn’t a reason to weep, not yet, not in the way the picture would depict. Because the battle was still up ahead. Nothing had been lost. So, whatever tears were wept, were not of loss. They were not the bitter tears of defeat, but ones that bore even more depth, the hollow sound of promises that could become undone.

There was a weight on her shoulders, placed with a feather light touch. Warmth. A presence. That of a broad chest hovering right behind her back. A gentle caressing sensation being pressed onto the top of her head.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh air that made her feel light, so light that she might have begun floating somewhere else, some place else where such shadows of the depths of darkness, as what could almost be seen in the horizon, wouldn’t be there. But… whatever that place might’ve been, whatever fable it would’ve been… he wouldn’t have been in that reality. Into that place, he couldn’t have followed her, for how does anyone follow a petal dancing in the wind? How does anyone follow a leaf caught by a river? So, faint and feeble, being tossed and turned around.

She felt that, would he not have been there, placing his hands onto her shoulders and grounding her in place, being her rock, she would have become a leaf, a petal, a flake of snow. Something that only exists for a moment.

But because he was there, his mere presence gave her comfort, unlike any other kind she had known. His warmth, radiating from him, wrapped her into its embrace and made her worry, the creeping sense of cold seep away from her, into the floorboards under her, so that she felt like she was basking under the summer sun.

“It’s really coming down,” he commented with a whisper as his head was pressed against hers.

He let his arms wrap around her, gradually, with a savouring motion, as if he wanted to remember that moment, and that act of pulling her into his embrace. His breathing was… careful, but not faint. It was strong, but hesitant. As if, with the action of pulling her closer, into his embrace, he would have had to accept the fact that he’d need to let go as well. The one thing he didn’t want to do.

“It really is…” she replied, while placing her hands on top of his swaying in his arms, even of only a little, as if caught by some unsung melody that neither of their mortal ears could distinguish.

He nodded his head, instead of saying anything. Because there was a question he didn’t want to ask. There was something he should have been talking about with her. But he didn’t want to. Not even if it made him, in some far, far corner of his heart, happy.

The fact that she was going to leave to Thea, because the ritual she needed to undergo, could only be conducted there. She had to go, if, and when, she wanted to aid Queen Anima to have a hand in helping out with the war. But so much trouble came with it, if they were caught. Even if she was only a subject, who was to obey her queen, she was still aiding with the bending of rules.

Thea wasn’t to provide aid for Clover. If Solara wanted to be there, to support the man she was to marry, that was her privilege. It was a tough position to be in, but it was a position where she could do her part, out of personal conviction. But aiding the Queen to play a part, aiding a ruler of another nation to help, even if out of some personal, deep seethed need to push back the residents of the Underworld, it was an entirely different matter.

The alliance was still on hold, because ‘the Queendom is unsure of this battle, even if it is on the alleged grounds of defence’. ‘You may aid your allies, but us aiding you to aid your allies is another matter.’ And so on. All the reasons that had been given. Each of them made, so that on paper there was the trace of carefully assessing the relations. But all… on paper.

In reality, it was her neck on the line. More or less. Even if the option was to always just migrate, to move to Clover and revoke any ties she had with Thea, other than her magic and her lineage that was inscribed into her blood. All else she could cast away. But it’d mean her having to trust him; he knew as much. He knew that she had to trust him to catch her, if she fell. And he wanted to be worthy of that trust.

The knowledge of her taking a hold of his hand, and leaning to him in her hour of need, brought a sweet sense of comfort to him, for he felt how she shared the same comfort he felt. He could lean on her with his fears and doubts, and she could do the same.

He buried his nose into her hair, and breathed in her scent, closing his eyes. His body had grown to crave the taste of air that came always, and only, when she was around. That taste was round, and soft, but with a twist; and that twist made it sweet and decadent, combining with a hint of spice. The taste of air was something he couldn’t quite name. But… he didn’t need to.

It was only them, and the peace and quiet; the crackling of wood in the fireplace. The white noise that existed so often in the background, but only because there was a lulling sense of calm for them both in it.

“Lena’s coming with me to Thea,” she continued with another whisper.

“Hm?”

“Nozel was rather adamant on her not joining us in this war, and she was convinced-, by him and a few others, to wait out in Thea.”

“It’s… only sensible, given her condition,” he uttered, looking their reflection from the sheet of glass that separated them from the grey outdoors.

“Meaning that if I was pregnant, you’d tell me to-“

“Yes.”

“That was quick,” she giggled.

“Wouldn’t you … think it was for the better?”

A few seconds lingered in the air as she looked at their reflexion, as she looked into his eyes, staring at her from the window as her hand lowered onto her stomach. “I suppose I would… if I knew that I was, for sure.”

He wanted to ask a question, but opted against it.

“Yes I would…” she continued. “Because it’d be…”

“Our child…” he said, finishing her sentence.

She nodded, glancing down to where their hands were. “They’d be our child…”

There was another pause, another moment of silence where neither didn’t quite know what to say, because there they were talking about the future, the hope they dared to utter only with whispers. The days, up ahead, where there was a sound, a babbling cry of an infant. A painting in the living room; depicting a mother, a father, and a child. And in that painting, there would have been two rings on the ring finger of the mother, where, in the image staring back at them from the sheet of glass before them, there was only one. The painting would have three rose gold rings, one on him, and two on her. And on the inside of that ring, on him, there would be a gold embellished, red inner lining, made of the symbol of the strings of fate entwining into ropes. The leaf that was now tucked into his small chest of jewellery, that was at times used to make rings, would be used to make theirs as well, so that they might carry with them the symbol of how their fates were wound into one.

That future was so close. It seemed so close. But it was just behind the barrier, the frontier of the upcoming war.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he concluded, speaking out a fact, as if the still clarify it for himself, even if with a hushed tone.

“I am…” she uttered with a whisper of her own. “But I promise to be there, in time, to stand by you,” she insisted, with a clear tone while turning around in his arms. She looked into his eyes, placing her hands onto his chest and feeling the beat of his heart. “I promise…” She repeated.

“I know, my love,” he replied with a faint smile, because he knew that she fully intended to keep that promise; that if it was up to her, she would return and fight by his side.

But… still, in the far corner of his heart, he wished that she wouldn’t. Though it would pain him to see her leave, as if a thousand small spikes pricking his heart, pulling and picking his heartstrings and the threads of fate, wound around his heart; even despite all of it, there was a faint whisper in his mind that wished for her to stay in Thea. Because the melody, the symphony their hearts had composed together, barely there for their mortal ears to hear, but to which their souls still waltzed, was still there, around it all. He’d hear it, even if she was in Thea. He was sure of it.

The knowledge of her being there, out of harms way, able to dance to that melody, gave him a strange sense of melancholy filled comfort. But. He also knew that if he was to speak it out to her, that she could waltz a waltz of her own, even if he was gone, that she’d argue against. She’d tell him that waltz is a dance made for two. She’d tell him that the melody, that was now filled with joy, and laughter, the bubbling, swirling sensation that collects into one’s chest and makes the corners of their lips tug up into a wide smile to the point where it feels like you’re floating on clouds… The bright… light… feeling… it’d change into something else. It’d change into one painted with nothing but dull, numb, sorrow drenched tones that would seek to scoop and carve her heart out.

Until she was hollow.

She was sure of it.

And he knew it, what she’d tell him, because too many times during the last months, he had come to wonder what his own life would be, would she die. The grey… bleak shades of life. He had tried to think about them on the rainy days, when the skies, the air, was nothing but a veil of that very grey. The chills of the thoughts, of the bony fingers of the creeping cold trying to inch closer to him, had given him an idea of what it’d be like. But he had never been able to finish those thoughts. Because he didn’t want to.

“I know…” he repeated. “But now…” he begun, thinking if he should utter what he wanted, to just forget about the war, about the devils, and to just … be.

He shouldn’t be… He should be thinking about it all. He shouldn’t be lulling himself into some fable right before the crucial day, but… somehow it-, seemed more important to do so. Or then it was just the quiet whisper of his heart that he wanted to listen, in place of his reason and mind.

“Can we just focus on each other?” She asked, making the corners of his lips tug up.

“You’re becoming quite the mind-reader,” he joked as his gaze cascaded over her with the promises of a bright morning to come.

“Or then I just know you,” she smirked before placing a kiss onto his jawline.

“I stand by my statement,” he replied while wearing a smirk of his own. “And I take it as a yes,” there was a purr in his tone, hidden under the layers of speaking out what he thought and meant; just a faint purr, rolling off of his tongue.

“It’s always a yes with you,” she smiled, leaning closer to him.

“Always?” He teased with a glimmer in the corner of his eye as a light laughter left from her lungs filling the air with the tune that only added to the seeping down of his own worry, down onto the ground beneath them.

“You know what I mean,” she jokingly protested, looking into his eyes that were not quite lavender and not quite royal purple in the soft light of the room. The sheet of glass, and the reflexion on it, was forgotten, leaving only them.

His lips parted to reply, but there was a tug, perhaps by the golden strings of fate, to keep him from uttering out the words that would otherwise have left him. The words of ‘I do’.

#before we have it #black clover fanfiction #fuegoleon x solara #fuelara #oc x canon #chapter 22

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reyla-the-black-wolf · 1 month

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🌿Spring✨

(the season spring as a person)

Blond, curly hair fell down his forehead. Light brown, small freckles dotted his cheeks, like stars in the firmament. His eyes, as peaceful as a murmuring stream. And just as clear. They looked at me. Sage green with a hint of sky blue and hazel. A longing warmth crept its way into my heart as he smiled at me. How I had missed it. The little dimples next to his soft, full lips. His light, shiny complexion. The high cheekbones. His presence alone was enough to make me happy. This calm and serenity. The peace he radiated. The joie de vivre. As if I had woken up from a deep sleep and he was just waiting for me to remind me of who I am. It felt like a warm, cosy embrace. It reminded me of the gentle swaying of the grass on a warmer day. The sun was high in the sky and yet felt pleasantly cool. The babbling of a narrow stream beside the field path. A red checkered picnic blanket in a wildflower meadow. A few balmy breezes brushing past me. A touch, as if by magic. And sweet-smelling biscuits and cooling iced tea. Everything about him absorbed me. It urged to my innermost being and filled me with colourful, pure energy.

But something changed. The look on his face. Very slowly. I noticed how the sparkle left his eyes and gave way to something more profound. Like a bright, blue sky, which is gradually veiled by grey clouds. His narrow eyebrows drew together. The dimples around the corners of his mouth disappeared. His cheekbones suddenly looked hollow and empty. And his skin drained of blood. As if all colour had faded from it. His soul suddenly dull and uninspired. He looked down at the soft ground beneath our feet. As if he was completely immersed in his own world. Withdrawn.

But as quickly as his expression changed, he returned to his old self. A shadow that passed by. His posture became more upright. The thoughtfulness in his gaze disappeared. There it was! The sparkle in his dreamy eyes when he looked at me again. It had returned. As if he could stare directly into my soul. See all of me. Everything about me. Every scar and every little flaw. Every emotion and every memory. But I wasn’t scared. I slowly stretched my arms out towards him and pulled him close. His skin was as soft as feathers when his cheek brushed against mine. His hands traced gentle circles over my back. I let myself be carried away by his scent and closed my eyes. He smelled of honey and sweet lilac. Of fresh spring water. Of freedom. I relished in his touch.

No, I wasn’t frightened. I was ready. Yes, I was even happy! It felt as if I had been reborn. Everything suddenly became easier. The feeling that I was floating surrounded me. I was ready to face life again. Because I knew he would stand by my side and accompany me.

Thank you, spring, for showing me that not everything is bad. And even bad days will pass! 💛

#springtime #spring #happiness #atmosphere #short story #four seasons

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iriushoothoot · 9 months

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Grief - a short story

The golden light from the evening sky flooded the small clearing, washing over the grasses and wildflowers in a gentle wash of color. A single dragonfly whizzed past Kallion's head, then fluttered away again to chase its mate. Kallion, a young magpie with feathers that shone like silver fire beneath his wings, sighed as he watched them disappear into the thick bush along one edge of the stream. Days like these always reminded him of his mother. She had loved those evenings when they all gathered on this very spot—a long time ago, now. Kallion only returned to visit the grave, or rather the unmarked spot where her ashes rested among the tangled roots of an ancient willow tree; her favorite spot where she often spend the days with the family, watching the dawn or stargazing, wishing upon shooting stars for luck. Luck that her terminal illness might be cured, even though deep inside she knew the truth. It was here where he would sit alone, remembering every detail of her beautiful face until twilight set in.

Kallion sighed again at the thought of his mother. He could still remember what it felt like to hold her wing tight in his own once more: a sense of warmth and love so strong that it overwhelmed everything else. To feel secure enough to dream without fearing the darkness lurking behind. To dream without grief, without sorrow or sadness, simply knowing life itself was precious beyond words.

But dreams can only last so long. Dreams are ephemeral creatures that fade with each passing day and night. Eventually, you must wake up from slumber if there is ever going to be any meaning to existence other than the reality before you. To remember is the right thing to do, it keeps our loved ones that have passed away alive and yet, we can't stay in the past forever, we need to move on, keep living, and never give into despair or regrets. We cannot change who has gone; no matter how much you want them back they're not coming back, nor should they. But their memory lives within us, sometimes hidden beneath the surface but always present somewhere deep down inside our hearts, ready to come out when called upon.

Kallion wiped away a tear with the tip of his wing as he looked at his mother's grave. "Goodbye, Mother," he whispered quietly under his breath. "I hope you find your peace in this world."

A cool breeze blew across Kallion's feathers making him shiver slightly. It was probably the last time in a long while he is able to visit his mother's willow tree. His job requires him to move to a new town, a big city many hours away by car, and there was no way he could visit her regularly anymore. He smiled gently thinking about her, feeling that twinge of guilt for leaving her behind, at least her resting place, the place where they as a family spent so much time together. The sound of rushing water from behind drew Kallion's attention from the willow. A large gushing creek cut through the grasses where two mountains stood close enough to touch one another: towering rock formations reaching toward heaven itself. In some places, sharp ledges jutted out into the river; giving an illusion of islands floating along the edge of the water—a trick of nature more powerful than any dream-scape or imagination. Kallion knew he is going to miss this place, in fact, he already does. There was a feeling that he needs to stay, refuse the new job, and be close to this important spot in his and his mother's life. He feared all his memories of his mother are bound to this very location, that they would slowly disappear when he moved away, that he would forget her if he did not have the opportunity to return here every once in a while.

He remembered well what she had told him when asked why they were always visiting these parts at dusk, "because I love it up here," as she used to say with such pride as they strolled around the little pond nestled between those two rocky hills, watching as fireflies danced like sparkling stars above their heads. "There's something about this special view that makes me feel free."

"It reminds you of freedom?" Kallion remembers asking her curiously, eyes wide in awe. "Why? How could it ever remind you of freedom? It's nothing but a lonely lake surrounded by barren lands and tall rock faces." He was only a hatchling then, so his mind was still open to new ideas and concepts. He felt comforted by his mother's answer: "You're right, there is no real meaning behind our visits besides reminiscing fondly about the past together, yet sometimes I do wonder...why we keep coming back. Perhaps it has everything to do with the future, where there lies hope for tomorrow even though there might be none today. That the darkness never completely consumes us entirely, because somewhere inside our hearts remains a glimmer of light; shining upon its way into another day where hope comes true and dreams are finally fulfilled." Her words came from deep within her heart, touching on thoughts that eluded Kallion's young mind and still do, so many years later as a young adult. For Kallion himself had grown to understand how that simple act—remembrance—has an endless source of strength that will not end until death does take one away from this world.

Kallion smiled sadly thinking that he may not see this place again after moving away. But he knew it was inevitable nonetheless, not everyone can stay forever in their memories nor can they always remain in the past without having a life to go along with them. It is better to embrace change than let your fears hold you down in the dark, waiting to drown in despair and sorrow once more. Sometimes the best thing you could ever wish for yourself would simply be to look at the sky and dream of all things bright, beautiful, and magical while hoping for those wishes to come true someday. And perhaps if the universe is kind enough, maybe even grant those wishes of yours.

Kallion looked at his wing tip, gazing over the vast plains beyond the creek bed; imagining what sort of life his wings held out in front of him. What wonders await me when I fly off into the unknown? He shivered slightly at the thought of being so far removed from everything familiar. There was no knowing who or what waited around the next corner. He found comfort in the thought of leaving behind everything known: goodbyes are never easy but sometimes it's worth it just to begin a new adventure...and to never forget the ones we love and cherish. So long as we remember why we started our journey in the first place, there's nothing that should stand between us and our dreams and goals, our desires and ambitions. To live our lives as we please, taking each moment as it comes, remembering to breathe, letting ourselves enjoy every step, every day, and living happily with whatever time we get. We can't dwell on the past or worry about the future because both of them are fleeting moments that will inevitably pass by unnoticed—yet these memories will always linger within our hearts until our dying breaths have faded away.

"I'm not sure how well I will adjust in this big city," he sighed regretfully, watching another dragonfly swoop down toward a small flower resting atop one of the tall blades of grass. "I'll miss you, Mother." The sunlight caught a silver flash as one of Kallion's feathers turned slightly gold in the light from above. Perhaps Mother had already blessed him with her guidance and wisdom. He could feel her presence close beside him and somehow felt secure in his decision, knowing his mother would be happy for him, even though she herself could never see his future anymore. His heart swelled with happiness at the thought that his own path has been decided for now, that he doesn't need to fear anything else ever again: no matter what happens he will simply move forward, trusting fate to guide him wherever life takes him next...

#furry #avian #furry fandom #story #short story #furry story

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

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Untamed (chapter 4 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hawks had gone on an early morning flight the following day, before you had stirred from sleep, leaving you alone in the cabin for the first time.

He was reaching the apex of his rut. The cabin was beginning to feel like the inside of an oven. That was great for keeping his mate warm, but not so great for him in his current state, where he felt like he was roasting alive.

Outside, the winds were cold, almost punishingly so. Under normal conditions, he would have been wrapped up in his fur coat. However, now, he was wearing a loose T-shirt more suited for summer, baggy cargo pants and military boots.

He took off into the sky, soaring at great speeds that would make him near impossible to see with the naked eye, assuming anyone was actually around to spot him in the first place.

He'd soar up high, then let himself descend in a tumbling spiral, then catch his fall above the trees and rocket between the branches, sometimes letting the bottoms of his boots skim the trees to shake the snow off.

He always loved the feeling of the wind through his feathers; but, the sensation was more intense during his rut. While pain receptors didn't exist in his feathers in the same manner as his flesh and bones, he could still process feeling.

During his rut, feeling was intensified in his wings. He almost thought he could breathe the air through his feathers. Perhaps, it was why he felt so unbearably warm, why your touch had reduced him to a blabbering animal.

It was difficult to resist the desire to bring you with him on his flights, to hold you against his chest and feel your body clinging to him while he descended.

It was exciting to think about what kind of noises you would make. He hoped that you would find it exhilarating. He wanted to feel your heartbeat thundering away from the rush, to see red tinting your cheeks and tears in your eyes.

Instead, Hawks floated alone and let the late winter air bite away at his skin while the winds brushed along his feathers. It was soothing more so than chilling. Despite how unfitting his clothes was for the weather, not even the tips of his fingers felt cold.

The winter breeze had relaxed him, but not for long. Despite the obvious chill in the air, Hawks was still sporting a painful erection. He avoided touching it, knowing full well that masturbation was pointless. Enduring this alone for years taught him that it would likely only irritate him further.

You were here, you were safe, you were his, you wanted to be here, you wanted him. Your scent was all over the nest and his bite mark was a heavy eyesore on your throat. There wasn't another human for miles. But, despite the obvious fact that there was no reason for him to feel uneasy, his nature wouldn't allow him to rest.

His rational side wanted to let you relax, to give you some reprieve from him, from what he did to you and intended to do again. The beast, however, clawing under his skin, wanted to have you again.

Hawks flew some, and then some more, letting time slip away, until he was agitated to the point that his hands were digging into his outer thighs, nails threatening to rip his clothes.

Snow began to fall on his way back to the cabin, and the gentle wind hurled it to and fro. He could feel the soft droplets fluttering against his skin. The snow felt cold, of course, but he didn't really process it. All he could think about was getting back to you.

When he crossed the threshold, it was like entering another world. The outside whistled with the harsh wind and kicked snow inside, suddenly silenced when he slammed the door. He felt the sudden security of being in his nest, enclosed, private, safe, where it smelt like freshly cut logs and you.

As Hawks stepped into the living room, he realized that you had migrated away from the bed, likely due to the cold. You had brought some blankets and pillows over and haphazardly arranged them in front of the fireplace. You had even dug a rolled-up futon out of the supply closet to pile the bedding on top of. He had forgotten that was even in there.

His boots thumped against the wood floor as he walked, catching your attention. You peered up at him, your eyes failing to mask your excitement at his return.

At a glance, Hawks could see that you had showered while he was away. Your hair was clean, just a tiny bit damp at the ends. As he got closer, he could faintly catch a whiff of the well water that fed into to the cabin lingering on your skin.

It was only natural that you would want to clean off after what he had done to you the past couple days. Hawks was well aware of that and was trying to remain calm about the whole situation; but, the truth was, he was annoyed by your actions.

You had washed him away.

Of course, that could easily be remedied.

Hawks advanced towards you, mindful to not step on the blankets with his boots, to not dirty the nest you made. He lowered onto his haunches first, taking in the sight of you, the sight of the bedding you had arranged without him. You had slipped on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, not suitable for the weather, but suitable for him. Like this, your body was very accessible, that much was certain.

"I made breakfast, if you're hungry?" you offered, clearly not at all perturbed by his looming and staring. He didn't look annoyed, but oddly intrigued, maybe even flattered by your behavior.

"You have snow in your hair," you observed, smiling at the sight of pale white crystals caught in his blonde locks. You leaned up and reached for him, carefully tousling his hair to shake the snow free.

He waited until you were done preening him and suddenly jerked forward, pushing you onto your back with his torso. He followed with you, knees pinning you beneath him, one falling between your thighs.

When you peered up at him, unperturbed by his behavior, Hawks' gold eyes narrowed and his fangs bared. A sound that you didn't know he was capable of making snarled from behind his teeth and echoed around the room.

It was a growl, not like anything you had heard from a dog, or any animal, really. You didn't know that he could make noises like that. It seemed unfitting for the calm, polite hero that you knew so well. Then again, he had warned you about this.

Maybe, this whole experience was doing something to you, changing you; or, more likely, he was helping you discover things about yourself you never knew existed.

The growl didn't frighten you at all. It made you tremble with excitement, made your skin prickle with goosebumps and heart flutter, made wetness pool between your legs.

Spurred on by him, maybe wanting to rattle the beast's cage a little, you decided to be daring. You lifted a leg, pressed your foot against his chest, and pushed against him. Of course, he didn't budge at all. He was much stronger than you normally, and especially unwavering in this state of mind.

"Take off your clothes," you requested, trying your damn best to sound powerful, unyielding. You sounded firm, sure, but you didn't sound as strong as you wanted to, maybe not strong enough to coerce a beast.

Yet, Hawks' gaze softened, surprising you. He had told you he wanted you to be yourself, to not succumb to his every emotion. It kept him grounded, reminded him that you were here of your own free will, because you wanted to be. Your demand sobered him.

"Whatever you want," he uttered, sultry and low, and it made you tremble with excited goosebumps.

He leaned back, rising to his feet, and began shucking off his clothes in record time. His boots hit the floor noisily before he fumbled with his belt, having it barely undone before it was dragged down his hips by his pants.

He wasn't wearing underwear, you realized, as he shucked his pants off his feet. He lifted his arms and tugged his shirt over his head. The fabric hit the floor and, rather than throwing himself on top of you, Hawks remained standing.

His wings were spread out behind him, crimson feathers bright and imposing. His gold eyes were vibrant, staring you down like a predator seconds away from laying claim to its prey.

However, it didn't go unnoticed to you that he was standing there to allow you to appraise him, as if you had never laid eyes upon his nudity before.

Despite the cold, he had a faint sheen of sweat that was glistening in the light coming from the fireplace, outlining taut abdominal muscles. He hadn't eaten much since his arrival, and that much was obvious by the exaggerated tightness around his core, muscles more enhanced than you had ever seen before.

It felt almost shameful to stare at his crotch, but it was damn near impossible to not admire the heavy cock between his thighs. It was a sight to behold, just like the rest of him. The trail of pale blonde pubes leading from beneath his belly button was practically begging you to stare.

Still, you dragged your gaze back up at his face, where he looked surprisingly anxious, as if there a chance in hell you would tell him no. Sometimes, it was astonishing to think that someone so beautiful could have an ounce of self-doubt. But, he did. Even if he managed to hide it well, you could always spot it, the fear of not being good enough.

"Keigo," you uttered, voice sounding weak over the sound of the crackling fireplace.

Your arms lifted, hands reaching out for him, beckoning him into an embrace. You blinked and suddenly, he was on top of you, torso ushering you back into the sheets while his hands clawed at your shorts, dragging them down your legs.

Hawks panted into your neck, nails biting at the fleshy meat of your thighs as he tried to will himself to calm down. He was being nonsensical. You had been together for a while now. He had fucked you in every position he could possibly think of, held you at night when he could and kissed your mouth like you were his.

Because you were. Yet, despite all that, he felt so pleased that you still chose him, again.

When your hands slid over his shoulders and felt the burning heat of his skin, you felt a tinge of guilt at his state. Deliriously, you wanted to take care of him, to be able to give him everything he needed.

One hand cradling the back of his neck, you pulled him up until his face came into view and you kissed at the corner of his mouth. Encouraged, he followed, tilting his head to capture your lips in a proper kiss.

You felt his shoulders relax as his body slid atop yours, legs tangled and torsos coming together. His hands released your thighs, opting to slide up your sides, beneath your shirt and along the expansion of your ribs, where the pads of his fingers traced the outlines of your bones.

Despite the insistent, throbbing erection trapped against your thigh, burning hot like forged iron, his kisses were gentle, ushering your mouth open to accept his tongue. He kissed you like he had forgotten what your mouth tasted like, tongue slotting over yours eagerly, moaning into the kiss senselessly.

After sometime, you pushed back against his chest until he finally got the message and pulled back from your lips. You tried not to laugh at the childishly irritated scowl on his face, his expression silently reprimanding you for stopping him.

"Lay down," you urged. "I wanna touch you."

"Don't need any more teasing, babe," he protested weakly.

Still, despite his protest, you nudged him pleadingly. Hawks groaned like you had struck him, but complied and began rolling over, bringing you above him.

You watched his wings flex and fan out comfortably beneath him, spread out across the sheets like twin, elegant blankets, mindful of the fireplace. He propped his back up with some pillows, giving him just enough leverage to lean up a little, but not quite in a seated position.

As Hawks got situated, you tweaked one of his nipples between your fingers. He yelped at the touch, shoulders twitching and wings shuddering faintly beneath him. Your hand was ripped away by a grip at the wrist; but, you couldn't hold back a smile as he glared up at you.

That glare disappeared off his face when you started wiggling down his lap. Of course he knew what was coming, especially when you cupped his weeping cock and tenderly lifted it off his abdomen. Yet, excitement clawed up his spine as if he was sincerely surprised.

He hardly registered your tongue lapping at the swollen tip, where he was sticky with precum. He did, however, painfully so, notice when you sank down, enveloping his length in your hot mouth.

For a moment, you just held him against your tongue, reveling in the salty taste and moaning when you felt him throb. You slid up to the tip, failing to notice how tense the rest of him was, back arched and staring down at you intensely, muscles tight from head to toe. When you sank back down, tightening your mouth around his shaft, Hawks cried out suddenly.

His loudness startled you more so than the sudden gush of his seed. His hands grabbed at the bedding. In the corner of your eye, you could see his feathers shuddering beneath him.

Hawks' cock throbbed with each spurt, heavy where it rested against your lax tongue. He was deep enough that his seed spilled right down your throat. You relaxed and swallowed it carefully, cheeks tinted red as Hawks whined above you.

When he came down from his high, he was still impossibly hard, throbbing against your tongue as if he hadn't come at all. You began bobbing your head, excited at the thought of getting him to come again. However, his hands suddenly flew up, grabbed at your cheeks and pulled you off.

You hadn't expected that, resulting in a wet pop and a string of saliva dangling between your drooping bottom lip and his member. Hawks stared for a moment, almost in disbelief at the sight, like something taken straight out of a porno, and not reality.

"God, you look so fucking naughty," he snarled, dragging your face in towards his, forcing you to arch over him. "Dirty fucking girl, aren't you?"

His tongue lapped against your bottom lip, catching your dripping saliva, before entering your mouth without preamble. The wet organ thrashed around senselessly, enjoying the taste of himself on your mouth. After a few seconds, he pulled back with a growl and dragged your shirt up, forcing your arms above your head to free you from the garment.

"Keigo, let me-" you whined.

"Be good," he silenced you in a gentle, albeit commanding, voice.

The world flipped when he spun you back around and your back hit the bedding. His wings fanned out above the two of you, beat against the air once, and flexed, plumes spread out majestically.

"I wanna touch you more," you protested, fingers weaving through his hair with dangerous intent. You gently dug the pads of your fingers into his scalp and watched his head lull from the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut.

"That's not being good," Hawks commented with a groan, making no immediate movement to stop you.

"I wasn't done," you retorted, leaning up to drag your cheek against the stubble on his jaw. You couldn't hold back a shudder at the sensation, soft yet rough hair dragging against your skin.

"Fuck," the winged hero growled, eyes opening to take you in with a faint glare.

Your felt a wandering hand smack gently against your inner thigh, forcing your legs to spread to give him space to settle between them. A digit suddenly grazed your slit, circling your entrance to gather wetness before slipping inside.

It was almost laughable to think he had gone out into the snow to cool off; yet, the heat of your core was tantalizing, so inviting that the touch alone threatened to undo him. You were already slippery and when he effortlessly sought out your sweet spot, you mewled.

Hawks groaned like you had wounded him, the sound practically vibrating from his throat and traveling through him onto you. He tilted his head to nibble at your jaw, breath hot enough to burn your skin where he exhaled against you.

"You're ready for me," Hawks commented lowly, driving his finger inside until his knuckles brushed your folds. "Did you like the taste of my cock that much? -my cum? Feel this - fuck. You're begging for it."

"You're begging for it," you retorted softly, hands carefully untangling from his hair and sliding down to cup his face. You pulled him back, away from your neck, so you could look into his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed in a low sigh, forehead bumping against yours just a little too roughly. "Want you so fucking bad."

"How bad?" you hummed encouragingly, hiking your legs up on his waist to pull him in.

His finger slipped free, hands shifting to slide over your hips, dragging you into a place more to his liking, pinned beneath him, where you were helpless to much more than squirm. You hiked your legs up on his hips, groaning when he humped at your core, causing his cock to drag against your folds.

"Kinda hurts, if I'm being honest," Hawks groaned out lowly.

"I'll take care of you," you promised, blinking slowly as you stared back at his vibrant gold eyes.

"Yeah?" he uttered weakly. "I can just-"

His tip prodded at your entrance and Hawks cut off, moaning in a wounded manner that had your head spinning. You had seen him get pent-up and frustrated before, after week long missions and months apart; but, he never sounded quite like this.

"Yes," you whispered back harshly.

With a shift of his hips, he was suddenly buried inside you. The sudden intrusion wasn't as startling as the loud noise that escaped Hawks. He shuddered above you, crying out, wings flexing and beating the air, driving him down against you.

"Oh, fuck, Keigo," you whined, realizing he had finished the moment he slipped inside.

His cock throbbed as if to remind you that he wasn't done yet. There was a wet squelch as he slipped out and rammed back inside, nearly drowned out by a guttural, "f-fuck", that he breathed against your neck.

He thrusted a few times, rough rolls of his hips, forcing your walls to accommodate his girth. You couldn't hold back a weak groan. As prepared as you might have been, it was inevitable that there would always be some strain to take him.

Hawks must have assumed that he was taking you too hard, for he slowed down, uttering a weak, "s-sorry."

Yet, the dissatisfaction from his slow pace was far worse than the slight ache when he took it too fast. You didn't want it slow and soft. The last couple days had you wound up, prepared for the promised, carnal passion. You wanted him to fuck you like his life depended on it.

"No," you hissed out, trying to angle your hips up to bring him in harder, fast. "God - no - Keigo, harder-"

With a faint growl, he obeyed that command, the sudden hard roll of the hips forcing you to break off into a loud cry.

"Babe, I'm gonna lose it if you talk like that," he warned, words throaty and rough where they breathed against your skin.

You worked one hand into his hair while the other grabbed at his back, nails biting deliciously into his skin, holding him close, forcing your bodies together.

"I want you to," you uttered between broken moans that he forced out of you with his cock.

Hawks uttered your name lowly, a clear warning.

"God, Keigo, just-" you growled, wiggling around helplessly beneath him. He shifted his weight, holding you down with a growl, as if you were dare trying to escape him.

It was exciting, and had you babbling at him wantonly, "you're so f-fucking sexy and I - I want it. Want you to just - f-fuck me like - ahh, Keigo, your mate."

His arms suddenly wound beneath you and hoisted you off the floor. You cried out, clinging to him in a startle at the sudden verticality. Hawks leaned upright, on his knees in front of the fireplace, holding you up, pressed against his chest, hands gripping your meaty hips to hold you at the perfect angle to fuck up into you.

"My mate? -fuck when you say things like that, makes me fucking - ghhh - fu-uck - you want me to fuck you? Yeah?" he babbled on, whispering harshly right into your ear.

It was a little too close, a little too loud, and left a ringing sensation in your head. Yet, you didn't want to shy away, especially not when he started growling. Clinging to him desperately, you could feel his back muscles shifting as his wings flapped with enough force to knock some logs off the stand.

His head tilted back and took in the sight of your face. Your eyes were struggling to remain open, lips parted lewdly, cheeks tinted a brilliant shade of red.

"You look amazing," he whispered, hot breath fanning over your face. "Fucked stupid on my cock, where you belong."

You moaned lowly, head lulling against his shoulder. You felt his lips press a kiss against your temple and he continued uttering into your hair.

"Gonna fill my pretty mate with cum. Is that what she wants?" he whispered, low and sweet, sultry and downright vulgar. You didn't answer; but, he felt your nails bite into his shoulders, heard your breath briefly catch in your throat.

"Yeah, she does," he agreed, breaking off into a pleased hum.

The wet, fleshy sounds drowned out the noise of the fireplace, accompanied by your helpless mewling and Hawks disgruntled moans and grunts. You were so close like this, held up by his strong grip, chest to chest.

You sought out the strength to peer up and catch a glimpse of his wings shuddering, flexing out from his back either for balance or unconsciously, you couldn't determine. You tore one of your hands from his shoulder and dragged your fingers through his plumes, along the growth until you met his back.

Hawks cried out in a sharp roar. His pace increased exponentially as he rode out his orgasm, wheezing and panting into the space beside your head. That white-hot pleasure overtook you at some point, forcing a startled scream from your throat.

He kept going and going, only slowing down when he was certain you were finished. Suddenly, he slipped out, and the emptiness had you whimpering, head spinning and body aching.

Your back hit the bedding and then your front when Hawks rolled you over. Focused on the ache between your thighs, you barely processed the rustling of the bedding, until Hawks shoved some pillows beneath your abdomen to slightly elevate your lower half.

He propped himself up on his hands and knees, fingers splayed out across the bedsheets on either side of your torso. You felt the tops of his thighs slide against the backs of yours, cock heavy and wet against your core.

The realization of what he was about to do seemed to slap him in the face at that moment, for Hawks suddenly stopped, freezing up behind you.

"Fuck, I need you," he uttered, voice hoarse and low. "Please - please, can I keep going? -still so fucking hard."

You almost didn't recognize the sound of his voice, hoarse and desperate; but, then, his wings beat against the air, sharply reminding you that this was Takami Keigo.

Your cheek was pressed against one of the pillows, arms splayed out above your head, and you realized faintly that you must have been quite the sight, spread out lewdly for him, back curved, ass in the air, presenting to him like a bitch in heat.

There was no sense of obligation spurring your unity; or, if there was, it was an afterthought. All you felt was desire, longing for more, aching to be filled, trembling and void of any coherent thought beyond Hawks.

You could feel his throbbing cock at your entrance, his knees pushing yours apart, his arms trembling on either side of you. He was hovering some odd few inches; yet, he was panting so heavily, you could feel it fanning over your back.

"Keigo," you whispered weakly. "Don't stop."

Your scream drowned out the inhuman growl that escaped him as he shoved his hips forward, sheathing himself inside your velvety heat, as deep as he could possibly go, trying to push his hips further forward as if it wasn't enough.

Hawks fucked you wildly, huffing out sharp breaths mingled with pleasured moans. It didn't take long for him to reposition his hands, one settling on your waist while the other fisted in the bedsheets above your head. He arched over you possessively, wings beating the air to drive him forward. As unnecessary as it was, you couldn't deny the way it stoked the fire inside you.

Before you could even think to ask, one of his feathers wiggled between your thighs, nuzzling against your pearl where it flicked and twirled, pinching at the bud with just enough friction to be pleasurable, but not too hard to be painful.

"Keigo!" you cried out, hands gripping the sheets with enough force to nearly tear them.

"Say my name," tumbled from his lips, like a broken baritone. "Yeah - fuck - my name - say my name. Gonna - ahh - stuff you with my c- ahh - fuck, you feel so good - so good," he babbled on, leaving your head spinning.

He was fucking into you at the perfect angle, ensuring his cock reached your sweet spot with each and every thrust. At some point, coherent thoughts died. Nothing existed beyond the bed sheets, the fireplace, the cabin. All you could think about was the sweet scent lingering on the sheets beneath you and the explosive pleasure Hawks was forcing through your body.

He came again at some point; but, you could hardly tell. Everything was already sopping wet, seed dripping from your cunt and down your thighs, as well his. The sounds he made never ceased, inhuman groans deep in his throat that mingled with each hurried inhale and exhale, in harmony with his thrusts.

His dominant hand slid down your spine, carefully curling at the back of your neck to hold you down. As mindless as it might have appeared, you were acutely aware that he wasn't holding all his weight down.

You were familiar with the power he held, the brute strength hidden beneath his charming and silly demeanor. He could hurt you very easily if he wanted to; but, he never did. Even in this state, his self-control was mind boggling, pinning you with just the right amount of pressure to keep you still, but not enough to cause any discomfort.

'Keigo' fell from your lips, again and again, as if it was the only word you knew. Above you, Hawks seemed to be in the very state he had been worried about, that he had warned you about: blinded by the pleasure of your core, lost to the desires overwhelming his every thought for days.

At some point, he hunched over even further, hardly thrusting properly anymore and just rutting into you, and you felt his lips touch the space between your shoulder blades.

It was hardly a kiss and you realized vaguely that he was drooling a little before you felt the sting of his teeth. Hawks gnawed a path up your back, leaving behind pink, blossoming bruises, before digging his teeth into your shoulder. It wasn't as strong as the last bite, a brief sting before the pain was lost to the pleasure.

He growled into your skin, whole body quaking with sharp tremors, signaling that he had reached orgasm again. You had lost sense of your own awhile ago, always ablaze in white hot pleasure. The mere touch of his hand along your skin, every shift of his hips, the union of your sexes, had you vibrating.

You lost track of how long that went on, how long Hawks kept going, mouth latched onto your skin, slobbering and whimpering into your flesh, while his hips rolled against yours, pinning you between the floor and his unwavering form.

Everything felt too good for you to process how tired you had become, brought to the brink of exhaustion, glistening with sweat from head to toe, kept awake only by his invasion of your body, the drag of his cock along your velvety walls.

Eventually, Hawks began to slow. He carefully removed his teeth from your shoulder and gave a few more thrusts, letting out a low whine that you could guess was one last, final orgasm.

His feather departed your slippery folds, leaving you aching and spent, and he remained buried as deep as he possibly could, hips pressed tightly against yours.

Hawks nuzzled his face into the back of your neck, panting wildly, and you felt what you could only describe as vibrations rumbling from his chest, so violently that it had you shaking beneath him. It was almost alarming, but the tremors steadily waned as his breathing relaxed.

Carefully, Hawks turned you onto your side, shoved the pillow beneath you away, and curled into the space between you, pressed tightly against your back, skin touching in every spot that was possible. His wings stretched out behind him, past the boundary of the bedding and spread out across the floor, lax like the rest of him.

Hawks adjusted your legs carefully, stretching them out with his own until they were comfortably laying side by side, all whilst ensuring his cock remained lodged inside you. The strain wasn't unpleasant; rather, you were surprised by how good it felt.

"Keigo?" you uttered weakly, voice so low, you were surprised he even heard you.

You felt his lips kiss at your throat and a hand settle over your tummy, fingers splayed. He uttered your own name back, as if reassuring, before his fingers moved around, sliding up and down your side soothingly.

You willed your eyes to open and watched the flames inside the hearth dance briefly before your gaze darkened and you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of the storm brewing outside and Hawks breathing softly behind you.

He didn't join you in the abyss, but watched over you cautiously, as if you could possibly be in any danger. The storm outside wasn't particularly worrisome, but it made it impossible for him to pick up sounds beyond the boundary of the cabin.

If you had turned to look upon his face, you would have seen his pupils miniscule, gold iris vibrant and wild. There was no chance that anyone would possibly disturb you, and his sensible self would have known that; but, as he was now, rut peaked and beast sufficiently satisfied, Hawks couldn't be told otherwise.

An arm drooped loosely over your waist, holding you close, and he listened to the soothing beats of your heart as you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #takami keigo fanfiction #hawks x reader #hawks smut

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pleasantanathema · 4 years

Text

Invasive Species

Pairing: Hawks x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Yandere, Dubious Non/Con, Stalking, Possessive Actions

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N:This is a part of the bnharem pen pals collab that can be found here! Please check out everyone else’s amazing work for this very unique smutty collaboration.

The noise was so faint, a gentle peck against the glass, the sound muffled by the mild summer breeze, that you hadn’t heard it. And so, the paper became lifeless, drifting down onto the floor to rest until you found it. You were startled when you saw it—a blood red feather, with a crisp, folded note tied to it, lying in your floor, the feather ruffling in the wind from the open window. Your heart pounded in your chest. You had seen feathers like that before, felt them against your skin and in your hair as a winged hero carried you to safety from a burning building just yesterday. But you’d been one of many, he saved so many people, yet he left a feather for you?

You’ll always be safe with me around.

–Hawks

You smiled at his writing, finding it to be much neater and prettier than you expected from a man in his twenties. What a kind, considerate hero to send you such an endearing promise. No wonder he topped the popularity polls, you mused, sitting on your bed and re-reading the little note. You tapped the feather against your lips, twirling it between your fingers. You remembered how he was able to control the nimble things, sending feathers zipping across the sky to pull people by their collars and the back of their shirts to safety. Surely he would want it back, right? You felt it twitch within your hand as if it could read your mind.

Quickly, you searched your desk, ripping at a piece of paper to create a slip similar to the size of his note. You took a breath before writing, not wanting your handwriting to seem unsteady or nervous. You wondered if anyone ever wrote him back, or if people kept his feathers like trophies.

Thank you, Hawks. I’m grateful that someone will be watching after me.

You signed your name in the bottom corner.

The crimson feather darted away when you placed it on your window sill, jumping like it was alive. It carried your note back to waiting hands and a cheeky smile, to a man only a few rooftops away. Avian eyes narrowed and darkened at your innocent words.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but your message was an invitation to a very dangerous game.

The next little letter came about a week later, long after the sun had set and your eyes were heavy. The quill against the glass spooked you, the sound reminiscent of sharp nails tapping to get your attention. You opened the window and the feather fluttered past your cheek, landing perfectly in the middle of your desk like it belonged there. You rubbed your eyes as you sat down to read it, flicking on the dim light that you had just turned off to go to sleep.

You couldn’t help the way you smiled when you saw that this letter was personally addressed to you.

Sorry for making you wait so long. I’m not used to writing letters. But your handwriting is so pretty, I thought I could implore you for another? Please tell me something about you.

–Hawks

You blinked at the paper, thumbs crinkling the edges. There was something about the letter that made your heart thump a little harder in your chest, blood racing in your veins. You realized that you were not one of many to receive an assuring note from the hero; no, you had been sought out by him, plucked and singled out of the crowd. Hawks had remembered you in particular. A small bit of adrenaline kicked into your system as you picked up your pen.

This is going to sound like I’m trying to be sweet on you, but I’ve actually always loved birds. My favorite are the pretty red song birds that I hear outside my windows in the evening.

There was a compulsion for you to keep this response letter a little longer. You mulled it over, hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. You weren’t lying, those cute little song birds did bring you joy, but there was a tinge in your heart to impress him, to make him smile as he read your letter.

And as quick as the feather flew in, it flew away, a red streak across the star speckled sky. You finally curled up in bed, a concoction of excitement and content brewing in your chest. You held your pillow a little closer, dreaming of the brush of soft wings against your skin.

But those wings were dark, casting shadows in the moonlight, now only a single rooftop away from you. Hawks held your letter in his hand, golden gaze locked onto the color of your curtains. He wondered if you’d ever become privy enough to shut them.

He read your words over and over again, smiling at how coy you were. He knew you were clever, but he didn’t expect you to be so daring. He brushed his hair behind his ear, pressing the small scrap of paper to his nose, trying to get a hint of the sweetness he had smelled in your hair when he plucked you from that building. You were so darling in his arms; he loved how you clung to him, small hands around his neck like you would collapse without him, even when he had you safe on the ground.

The letter in his hand felt like the key into your life, and all too quickly he found himself writing back to you. And in the depths of the night, this particular letter and feather were hand delivered by the pretty bird from outside your window, though you’d never know it.

___________________________________________________________

You found the letter tucked neatly into the corner of your window, the one closest to your bed. It had been the first thing your eyes focused on as you awoke, the crimson barbs of the feather gleaming in the early morning light. You laid in the comfort of your warm bed for a few moments just gazing at the sight, sleepy mind trying to piece together how and why the winged hero had taken an interest in you. He was so handsome, so popular, so tantalizing in a curious way.

The summer breeze was warm even so early in the day. You left the window open to allow a current of fresh air in, settling back into your pillows as you unfolded the note.

I suppose liking birds is something we have in common. Those pretty red song birds outside your window are actually cardinals…an invasive species in Japan, but pretty nonetheless.

P.S. Perhaps I could soon become your favorite red bird.

–Hawks

You read it a few times, worrying your lip as your eyes raked over every word. There was something to be read between the lines, only you worried you weren’t finding the hidden meaning. Why mention that the birds were invasive species? It made them sound impish and not as lovely knowing they weren’t really supposed to be there. Yet their morning calls were beautiful, melodic, a comfort to your ears from the open window. And was Hawks…flirting with you? His post script seemed so playful and nonchalant, and reading it had your cheeks turning pink.

You busied yourself with your morning routine as you debated how to reply. You didn’t know Hawks, you didn’t even know how he found out where you lived, and yet he was flirting with you so offhandedly, like he expected you to return his dalliances. Had he come early this morning before starting his hero work? Or did he work at night, and sent a feather before returning home? There was so little that you knew about him that it made you nervous to be stepping into such an unknown situation, but surely it didn’t mean much to him. You were a little nobody; he was the number two hero.

Even still, in a way, it felt so romantic, finding hand written letters from him, like you were out of time, floating in a midsummer bliss. But it also felt disquieting, like you were stepping out into a vast, unknown ocean.

You sat down to write to him before you left to begin your day. The feather in your hand was so light, so soft, and you gently stroked your thumb over the barbs, watching them split apart and then find one another again. The hollow shaft seemed to quake in response. You were reminded of how every feather appeared to be alive, controlled by their far-off master. They were so sensitive to every touch, every gust of wind. You dipped your finger against the edge, watching the alluring color bleed against your skin.

Can you feel what your feathers feel, Hawks?

And you set the feather free once again, having to block the sun from your eyes as you watched it dance away, note dangling from a long forgotten ribbon you had found in your drawer.

But soon, you forgot about it, carried away by the daily musings of your life.

______________________________________________________________

As for Hawks, he thought about it all day, carried your little note in his pocket as he attended to his heroic duties across the city. The image of your window, of your little home where it was tucked away, always remained in the back of his mind. He was itching to go back to the rooftop from where he watched you; he wanted to see your reaction as you opened his letter, watch you ponder how to respond. He was quickly becoming addicted to you, to watching you when you least expected it.

He had perfectly crafted his response by the end of his day, broad wings hurrying him to his favorite resting spot. Your city apartment was so high up, no one from below could dream of looking up to see you. But he could see you, he had scouted the best from which to watch you. He was just high enough where you couldn’t peer back at him, the perfect perch for a predator to watch his prey. From the neighboring rooftop he could see the entirety of your bedroom. It was like a painting on the wall of a museum, wonderfully on display for him to admire, especially when you came home.

He rested his cheek in his palm as he watched you come in your bedroom door. He could practically hear you sigh as you dropped your bag, stretching your arms above your head to rid yourself of the small tensions your day had brought you. And this was his favorite part—you quickly shimmied out of your pants, a little dance as you bounced back and forth on your heels, pulling one leg up and then the other. You then bent over and pulled your favorite pair of soft shorts from the floor, having unceremoniously dropped them there the night before. You looked so good in those, he mused, the cozy fabric stretched so snugly upon your hips, curving just right across your backside.

He waited for you to get comfortable, then plucked a feather from his wings, tying his note to it with the ribbon you’d sent out this morning. He grinned at how you jumped when the feather flew through the crack in your window. He made a little show of having it swirl around you before landing it on your desk.

I can feel everything that my feathers touch—the wind, water, sound vibrations, they’re a part of me. You should give this one a kiss before you send it back.

The name’s Keigo, by the way. Takami Keigo.

Did you always blush like that when you opened his letters? He watched you stand up and pace around, thumb between your pretty lips, lost in thought. Soon you grabbed the note again, plopping on the edge of your bed to read it over. Your legs crossed and uncrossed, a smile finally pulling at your cheeks. He watched with delight as you picked up the feather, tingles immediately spreading across his skin at the feel of your fingers.

He groaned as you brushed your fingertips over the barbs. He pulled at his tinted eyewear, bringing them to rest upon his head so he could watch you more closely. A lock of hair twisted around his finger as he anxiously waited for you to do as he asked, to kiss his feather, to let him have a fleeting moment where he felt the ghost of your lips upon his skin.

But you didn’t, you just kept stroking the long red feather, teasing him. His brows furrowed as you stopped, watching you sit the feather back on your desk, along with his note. How could you…how could you not respond to him right away? Why not give him what he desired?

Hawks watched in disbelief as you sauntered out of your bedroom into another part of your little home.

He waited for what felt like hours for you to come back. He should’ve left when the sun went down, he chided himself, bringing his wings closer to his body. Autumn was in the wind. He had almost left, was even picking himself up and shoving his hands into his pockets when your room lit up like a beacon calling him back. So he settled back into his spot, golden eyes watching your every move.

His breath caught in his throat when you began to shed your clothes—all of them. He’d watched you for over a week now, and finally you were fully naked before him. You looked ethereal with the dim light of your room spilling over your curves, every single line of your body on display. He found himself sitting up straighter, perched on the balls of his feet like at any moment he was going to leap into your arms.

Were you…? Oh fuck, you were walking to your desk, sitting down and taking a pen into your hand. Instantly he was hard, fingers encircling his cock with a death grip as you picked up the feather, his feather, and admired it for a moment. He could feel your breath blowing against the soft barbs, the warmth spreading over him like a blanket from the breeze. But you sat it down, electing to instead write him back, treating him to the lovely sight of your naked back arched over your desk, the elegant sinews of your shoulders on exhibit.

And then you were in your window, your naked body so temptingly close. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to feel the weight of your breasts within his palms.

As soon as he felt the wind blowing against the feather, he pulled it back to him. He always knew when it was your feather returning to him, even when he couldn’t see it. He could sense the heft of the paper tied to it, pulling at the feather like it wanted to sink to the ground. He even recognized the tenderness in your touch, felt how you always twisted the feather between your fingers.

You’re cheeky, Keigo. A kiss? I hardly know you. Maybe one day.

He scoffed at your words, folding the note back into its creases. Your light flickered off, the moonlight the only illumination for him to gaze into your little world. He watched you climb onto your bed, expecting you to curl up in your favorite spot and drift away into your dreams.

He was very happily mistaken.

Your hands were on your body, one cupping your breast, the other slipping into your mouth. He stroked his cock through his pants at the sight, eyes wide and ravenous as he watched the scene unfold before him. You were slow, thorough, taking your time running your hand over your curves, twisting at your nipples. Your fingers left your mouth and traveled south, to another pair of lips he had yet to see. You spread your legs, teasing yourself as your head dipped back against the pillow.

Hawks was desperately moving his head, angling his body to try to see what sweetness was waiting for him between your legs. But your thigh was in the way, blocking his view, and he huffed indignantly as he unzipped his cargo pants. His cock was achingly hot as he released it, the night air bringing a refreshing chill to his scorching skin. He wrapped his hand a little too firmly around himself, closing his eyes for only a brief moment to imagine how tight you’d be around his cock.

Your face was awash with pleasure, lips hanging open. He silently vowed to etch that look upon your face himself.He watched you intently, memorizing every movement, every place that you touched yourself. He could’ve observed you for hours, if it wasn’t for his unrelenting need to orgasm. He pumped himself to the paces you set, alternating between fast and slow, wanting to cum the moment you did. But the moment he saw your back arch, his keen hearing picking up on a high pitched moan through the window, he lost control, spilling himself all over his hand and down the front of his shirt, dripping onto his pants.

He’d been so caught up in his own ecstasy that he missed yours. He only saw you in the afterglow, your curves sinking into the mattress as sleep overcame you.

He wrote you a quick letter, leaving it wedged against your window sill. He took a moment to admire you up close, hand pressing to the glass to steady the silent flapping of his wings.

___________________________________________________________

But I know you.

There was no signature to the note, only large fingerprints upon your window.

They were like little specters, ghastly against the morning dew.

Your stomach dropped at the sight, dread bubbling to the surface. He had hand delivered this note, had been at your window, had seen you at some time in the night. You pulled your sheets to your chest, recalling that you’d fallen asleep on your comforter naked last night, only waking in the early hours of dawn to finally crawl under the covers. Had he seen you? Is that what he meant?

He reminded you of Hermes, a winged protector of humans, but a trickster god nonetheless, flittering around the country with a bright smile and witty banter, but perhaps something darker in his heart. Maybe he was worse than Hermes, maybe more dreadful, more sinful. For a while there had been something nagging at you, pulling at the strings of your intuition and whispering danger. But now…now that feeling had blossomed into fear.

You decided you had indulged the winged hero enough. There was no need to reply. Any romance you had felt from the actions withered away, dying out like a flower left in the sun.

You started to close your curtains when you came home most days, just in case.

Weeks went by, and autumn came. The cardinals stopped singing, with no other red feathers or letters in sight.

But sometimes you could hear rustling outside, see familiar shadows pass by.

He was on your television screen, too, newsfeeds obsessed with the most popular hero. He was always being praised for saving more people, for helping rescue and clean up after a disaster. He was darling on the screen, blonde hair always slightly a mess from flying. He seemed so handsome, so harmless, but you could see the glint in his eyes. He was something wicked, something enticing, and you hated that you had thought about him every day since his last letter.

The morning you found his note, you had thrown the paper in the trash, and thrown the feather back out the window. But by evening, it had fluttered back, red and sweet like a rose growing against the glass. You’d left it there, hoping the wind would take it away, but days went by and it was still hanging on, a reminder of his presence. A storm was on the horizon when you relented and took the feather in. There was something inside of you that couldn’t bear to see the cherry colored barbs wilt in the rain.

You tucked it away in your desk drawer, not as a reminder, but to just to get it out of sight. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Some of your nights were restless, plagued with thoughts of him, of Keigo Takami peeking into your window, of his plush wings against your skin.

____________________________________________________________

It was after an especially long, grueling day, that you gave in to your repressed thoughts.

You stood at the foot of your bed, ready to climb in, when some unknown force had you turning on your heels. It was like your hands had a mind of their own, pulling open the drawer and plucking the crimson feather from its resting place. You twirled it before you, nostalgia creeping across your skin as you remembered how the feathers used to look in the summer sky.

The feather felt like red silk upon your lips when you kissed it. You wondered if he could still feel it, after all these months.

You laughed at the inane thought, kicking off your shorts as you finally found your way into bed. You gazed up at the ceiling, counting the moonbeams that had slithered in through the cracks in the curtains. You hadn’t closed them all the way, but you rarely did anymore.

You sighed, closing your eyes and trying to imagine yourself somewhere else. Your fingers drifted down to the hem of your underwear, toying with the edges. You thought of strong arms around you, thick hands in place of your own. You thought of a new hero you had read about earlier, some young, recently graduated young buck from a hero program. You bit into your lip as you tried to recall his name. All you could remember were wild plumes of purple hair, which looked so luscious and soft in the online videos. You tried to imagine him, or someone like him, at least, pressing themselves between your legs.

Your fingers rubbed lazy circles on your clit, warming your body up. But you couldn’t stay focused on one thought, the problems of your day tiptoeing back into your conscious as you tried to pleasure yourself. Your other hand slipped under your big t-shirt, tugging rather roughly at your nipple as you tried to bring yourself back into a different headspace. You increased the speed of your fingers, only to find yourself panting in dissatisfaction at your actions.

“Fuck,” you called in frustration to the darkness.

“Seems like you need some help, little bird.”

You had never expected the darkness to call back.

Your whole body stilled, going completely numb as you opened your eyes.

Hawks stood near your desk, absentmindedly fiddling with the feather you’d left on its surface. The window was open, curtains billowing and brushing against dark wings that eclipsed the moonlight. You felt like the shadows his wings cast were smothering you, sinking around your lungs like an inky vice, keeping your voice trapped within your chest.

He had the audacity to smile at you. His hands were deep in his pockets, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked haphazardly thrown upon his shoulders. You wanted to run away, but you felt glued to the bed, beguiled by smoldering golden eyes as he approached.

“I know what you like, you know. Watched you do it so many times now.”

You braced yourself against the bed, the sheets slipping down as you crawled back, gaze transfixed on the predator placing his knees on the downy comforter. He was so quick, grabbing your leg and pulling you towards him. His smile never wavered as he pressed a wet kiss to your ankle, tongue sneaking out to catch a taste of your skin. You whimpered at his words, tongue too heavy in your mouth to form ones of your own.

“Cat got your tongue? Come on, I want to hear that pretty voice. Say the magic word, and I’ll be happy to help you out.”

It was like you were engulfed by his presence. The air smelled like him as he spread his wings, gently ruffling them before settling them back down to his sides. He smelled like rain, felt like a raging storm from above you, all dark clouds and lightning as his quick fingers started to move up your calves, keeping your legs spread to accommodate him upon the bed.

“N-no.”

Your voice was weak, just a hot gasp of breath into the room.

“You sure about that, baby? I promise I know exactly how to touch you.”

To prove his point, a hurried hand wrapped around your hip, thumb slipping under the fabric of your underwear to skim across your hip bone. You shuttered, his touch was too warm, feeling like he was burning his thumbprint into your skin. But it felt good, the pressure behind the digit so firm, making you feel so real against your body’s borders, feel alive at the jolt of pleasure that ran down your spine.

But with his body hovering above yours, it felt like there was a heavy weight falling onto your chest, pushing you down, down, down, deep into the mattress and holding you hostage. You wanted to push him away, to scream, to pull at his wings until it hurt him. But you were quiet, frozen in place, entranced by golden curls in the moonlight. And he knew it too.

“I’m going to show you everything I’ve learned by watching you,” his head dipped down, smile hanging just above your face, “and show you a few new things I know you’ll love.”

“Hawks,” you breathed out, hands finally moving and finding purchase against his chest. You wanted your tone to sound berating, angry, but instead your voice sounded pleading.

The brush of his lips against yours was so delicate, a penumbra against supple flesh.

“Keigo,” he corrected, the syllables of his name pressing into your lips.

He drank you in with a heavy groan, kissing you like a man starved for touch. You couldn’t close your eyes, too shocked at the sudden intrusion. Just moments ago you were dreaming of a man between your legs, and now one was here, he was real, eyes shut as he moved his lips against yours. Your sight was blurred by forming tears, your vision focused on the black lines that adorned his eyes. They were so beautiful, so stark against his soft skin, a reminder of how truly avian he was; a reminder of his primordial instincts.

The hand on your hip drew your body up into his, fingers now gripping at your ass with bruising strength. Your mouth fell agape at the stinging pain of his roughness, allowing his hot tongue to slip between your lips. You fisted his shirt, trying to push him away, only to be met with lithe muscles straining underneath the fabric. You were reminded that he might be slender, but he was still a trained fighter, the number two hero, and he could do anything he liked to you.

He was brash, eager, desperate to finally touch you. His kiss was sloppy and wet, full of hearty groans as his hips bucked against your own. Your eyes finally shut, mind trying to picture someone else above you, someone who didn’t stalk you, scare you, but yet you could only imagine him. His presence was suffocating, his smell saccharine, the brush of his fluttering wings addictive.

“I knew you kept my feather,” he panted against your lips, his head dipping to your neck where he pressed open mouthed kisses to your beating pulse, “I knew you’d call out for me.”

“Hawks, no, that’s not what I was—”

He forcefully sucked at your neck, the sharp pain silencing you.

“Keigo,” he reprimanded against your skin, “come on, you didn’t miss me? Not even a little?”

“How can I miss you when I know you’re always there?”

He chuckled, sitting back and plucking your hands from their tight grip against his shirt. He held a wrist in each hand, settling them on either side of your face, pinning you down under his strong arms.

“I wanted to write you so many more letters, but I was worried that you’d throw them away.”

“I would have.” You sneered, wiggling in his grip.

“But why? I told you that you’d always be safe with me around, little bird.”

“You’re stalking me, Hawks—”

The grip on your wrists tightened, his thick fingers crushing the delicate bones, a warning.

“I’m watching over you.”

He gradually removed his hands from your wrists, the movement slow, steady, his keen eyes watching to see if you would react. Your skin was throbbing, bones aching from his relentless grasp. You didn’t move.

“And look at how I found you, baby, so desperate for help.”

His fingers pressed between your legs, rubbing against your clothed sex. Pleasure ran through your veins like a shock wave, your legs instinctively closing around his forearm. He sat back on his knees, marveling over how your body reacted to such a simple touch. He moved a little faster, a little harder, middle finger pressed firmly against your slit. He daringly pressed in, the fabric of your underwear keeling at his actions, sinking inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already, is this all for me?”

You could only shake your head no, too stunned to open your mouth to speak. He smirked, running his other hand through his hair, whistling at the vexing sight before him. For so many nights he’d wanted to be right here, in your bed, your thighs spread across his own as he touched you, toyed with you, proved to you that he could please you.

He kept his hand on your pussy, using the other to lift up your shirt, fingers searing across your belly. They kept moving upwards, pushing your shirt away to reveal your breasts. He licked his lips at the sight, fingers itching to pull at your nipples.

“Say the magic word,” his voice was lower now, more sinister, “say it, and I’ll touch you how you like.”

Did you even have a choice?

His hands were perfectly still, like he was a man stopped in time. You blinked at him, once, twice, wondering how something so beautiful could be so nefarious. He looked like a fallen angel, like his feathers had been dipped in blood and he was going to paint you with them. Your heart rate slowed, any adrenaline you had to fight beginning to flush from your veins. Your pussy was aching, the tip of his finger stretching you just enough to make you want more.

“Please.”

His eyes snapped to you, black pupils narrowed.

“A little louder,” he commanded, “and say my name.”

You swallowed, tongue wetting your lips. Your fingers dug into the sheets, still next to your face where he had left them. You were sweating, overcome with the feeling of your naked chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Please…Keigo.”

The dam broke, sensations flooding over you as he moved freely over your body. Your shirt was gone in an instant, your torso thumping back to the bed before you even realized he had ripped the material over your head. His shirt was gone, too, being shimmied over his wings and tossed into the floor. He was so quick, nimble fingers ridding you of your panties in the blink of an eye. And then he was on you, two fingers sunk deep into your pussy before you could even think to breathe.

You cried out, body arching as he pumped the digits into you at high velocity, your slick walls clenching. You felt his flaxen hair tickle your chest as his warm mouth sucked one of your nipples into the wet cavern, tongue shamelessly flicking over the hardening bud. Fuck, he felt so good, so warm, so real against your body, so much better than your own hands.

His teeth pulled at your nipple, white hot heat surging through your body in response.

“Keigo!” You scolded, but your voice was so high pitched, so laden with lust, that he mistook it for praise.

He continued to nip at your breast, fingers still plunging in and out of your pussy, the sounds lewd to your ears. His pace was wild and excited, making your skin tingle from all the attention. He sucked at your nipple, releasing the bud with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting his flushed lips to your darkening skin. He nuzzled his face to the underside of your breast, leaving you gasping as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin, nose pressing into the fleshy mound.

His fingers slowed as he sat back to look over your writhing body. He smirked, curling his fingers just right, pads brushing against the soft, flat place buried deep inside of you.

His free hand encircled your jaw, pursing your lips.

“Watch me, little bird.”

You nodded in his grip, keeping your eyes on his as he came to lay between your thighs. He draped one leg across his shoulder, allowing him to angle his head as he pressed a kiss to your clit. You moaned wantonly, worrying your lip between your teeth as you watched him. He was smiling at you, warm golden eyes hypnotizing you to keep observing. He was ready to put on a show, to let you see how observant he was, how he knew your body like the back of his hand without ever touching you before now.

The way he licked at your clit was intoxicating, little hot swirls with the tip, then heavy strokes with a flat tongue, alternating just how you liked. That sizzling coil inside your belly began to tighten. He was moaning against your wet flesh, the vibrations tingling down your pussy lips. He was enjoying himself, savoring you like an expensive meal he’d waited ages to try. His fingers kept in pace with his mouth, stroking you just right, strumming you like the devil would his fiddle within his hands.

He then employed a trick he learned from watching you. With his other hand, he spread your labia, exposing your sensitive clit even more to his hungry mouth. You shivered at the onslaught of pleasure, body so hot you felt like you could burst into flames, melt into the bed, die a little death. You whimpered, still wholly spellbound by the vision between your legs. Hawks’ wings seemed to shutter with every moan you made, the red plumage highly attuned to every sound, every move of your body.

Every touch, every lick, was so sinful and wicked. You tried to remind yourself that you didn’t want this, that Hawks was dangerous, that he had stalked you for weeks and could only tempt you so expertly because he watched you through your windows. But he was so beautiful, so devilishly divine between your legs, hot tongue swirling figure eights against your clit, fingers beckoning you to come undone.

“You like this.” He said it between long licks, fingers beginning a new, more ruthless pace inside of you.

A string of curses left your lips, your thighs beginning to quiver against his shoulders.

“No, no, please no,” you said the words to yourself, the pleasure he was creating becoming unbearable between your legs. He continued to lap against your folds, fingers spreading you wider, keeping you open and unprotected for him. He knew you were close, could feel your walls tightening. He added a third finger just to be cruel, to watch you shrink against the sheets as your back arched for him.

“Cum on my face, baby, I know you’ve thought about it before.”

To your shame, you absolutely shattered around him at his words, your pussy spasming, your orgasm flooding all of your senses. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were blissfully pinned down by his feathers, asphyxiated by his overbearing presence within your room, within your body. He stopped his ministrations, electing to watch you unfold for him from between your legs, eyes brighter than ever before. He could see the muscles within your lower stomach contracting, could feel your orgasm upon his fingers, slick coating them in gentle waves, all for him. The sight was more glorious than he ever imagined, the girl of his dreams cumming all over his fingers, all over his mouth, your sweetness flooding over him.

He didn’t allow you time to breath, time to bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. He quickly pulled you into his arms, sitting you in his lap, greedily kissing your lips.

“Keigo,” you whined, pressing against his chest, trying to find a moment to breathe.

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name,” his lips were relentless, seeking yours out every time you broke away, head following you like a moth would a flame, “keep saying it, baby.”

“Keigo, get out.” You growled, threading your fingers through his hair and jerking his head away. You kept him at bay, keeping a steady pull on his blonde locks.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you.”

His eyes were so dark, his cock so hard between your dripping legs.

He was the devil, Lucifer himself, the wayward angel staring at you, waiting to devour you. And you, you summoned him.

There was no incantation that could contain him or send him away. His arms tightened around your back, one hand pulling you into him by your shoulder, the other hastily pulling himself from his pants.

“See what you do to me, little bird,” he took your hand and wrapped it around his cock, big hand using your smaller one to stroke his length, “I’m always so hard for you.”

You couldn’t help the shameless moan that tumbled from your mouth. His cock was silky smooth against your fingers, throbbing and hot, far too hot, and slick from his own pre-cum. You didn’t protest as he used your palm for his pleasure, a sly grin upon his cheeks as he felt you become complacent in his lap.

“Haw—”

The hand on your shoulder was swiftly upon your face, two fingers that tasted like your pussy invading your mouth to silence you.

“When you’re with me, you call me by my name.”

You nodded softly, eyes shifting across the planes of his face, attempting to read his serious expression. He continued to run your hand upon his length, guiding you to squeeze his swollen tip, thumb petting the underside of his cock. His thumb hooked in your cheek, not so gently tugging at the elastic flesh, studying how you let him touch you. He skated his fingers across your tongue, hoping to feel the wet muscle react to him.

“Keigo,” you mumbled against his fingers, the sound like manna from heaven to his ears.

“Good girl,” he cooed, feathers ruffling as he pushed you back onto the pillows.

You laid before him again, limbs heavy and with the ghost of his fingers still in your open mouth. He looked like a god as he towered above you, wings spreading wide as if to parade their otherworldly beauty before you.

Then you felt the weight of his hips between your legs, the press of his chest against your own, the prickle of his facial hair against your neck as he settled himself there. His hands were on you again, precipitous and heedless against your curves, twisting and pulling at your flesh to bend one leg back, hook the other around his waist.

His cock nudged at your wet heat, one of his hands guiding him inside of you, the stretch simultaneously delightful and dreadful. Protest was on your tongue, you could taste the words, feel your gut instinct to use your curled leg to kick him away. But your arms welcomed him, encircling his shoulders as you moaned for him. Your head tipped back against the pillow and he took the opportunity to latch on to you again. His tongue lapped at the sore spot he had created earlier with his mouth, tasting the saltiness of sweat upon your skin.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he groaned, hips beginning to snap into you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, his feathers brushing against your knuckles as he moved within you. You felt so full, so entirely encompassed by him, enraptured by the sweetest devil.

All your movements felt coerced, like your body was following his lead against your will. Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

You kept your eyes open for a moment, entranced by the exquisite scene above you. Keigo felt unhinged, electric against you, golden curls bouncing upon his head, red feathers dancing upon his back. But his face was smooth, pretty, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body. One of your hands trailed up to the back of his neck, weaving within his hair. His eyes fluttered open to see you, signature grin returning as he felt your touch, his hips rocking a little harder to reward you.

“Tell me how it feels to have me inside of you.”

You closed your eyes then, focusing on how effortlessly his cock glided within you. Each thrust was hasty and rough, skin slapping against skin as his cock buried itself deep within your gut. He curved just perfectly inside you, cockhead delightfully brushing against the sensitive flesh of your walls with every plunge of his hips. His hands were splayed across your hips, one dangerously close to your clit, as if teasing you.

“Fuck,” you hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly, “you feel so good.”

A bawdy sound left his throat at your words, like he’d died upon hearing them.

One of his hands slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, leg tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted.

“That’s right, little bird, I’m going to make you cum on my cock.”

Your breasts were bouncing against his chest, your nails leaving indents upon his skin, his mouth back to sucking at your neck.

��And then I’m going to cum in you, make you mine.”

You were too lost to care, every nerve under your skin desperate for his touch. His thumb glided wickedly against your clit, fanning the hellish flames of your ecstasy even hotter and higher than before. A shriek of pleasure erupted from your chest, the hand upon his head bringing him closer to you, crashing your lips together as tears gleamed in your lashes. His cock was hammering into you so ruthlessly, your clit feeling abused from his too-quick thumb.

You were coming undone too quickly and too soon, your body feeling like threads being ripped apart at the seams. He grunted into your mouth, your tongue finally coming to play against his own, battling against him as you wrestled within yourself not to cum for him again so soon. But every stroke of his cock brought a fresh burst of pleasure blooming across your body, and you were so close, so fucking close to falling off the edge.

“Say my name,” he demanded against your lips, “say my name when you cum.”

There was no reason for you to comply, you weren’t his, he didn’t own you, but everything inside of you ached to appease him, and your mouth moved on its own accord.

“K-Keigo,” you stumbled, feeling yourself climbing the orgasmic ladder, every harsh thrust of cock leading you up another rung. His arm wrapped around your back, pressing you up against him in a hectic embrace. Your face settled against his shoulder, your fingers tightening in his hair, the others drawing blood upon his back. He only purred at the pain, so determined to bring you to release that he paid it no mind. His thumb rubbed tirelessly at your swollen clit, moving it in harmony with his cock.

Suddenly your moans stopped, the air being knocked from your lungs as pure ecstasy approached again.

And then the world felt too quiet, your mind hazing over as you cried out in melodic moans, your inner walls clenching and unclenching so deliciously tight against his thick cock as you came for him. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, still plunging into your depths as he sought his own release. Your fingers relaxed against his skin, feeling like you were sinking and he was the only thing keeping you safe from the fall.

“Keigo,” it was a whisper, the barest hint of sound against his ear. But he felt, heard it, and it had him tumbling over the orgasmic edge with a roar of your name. Hot ropes of cum filled your body, his hard cock twitching against your walls.

“Fuck you’re mine, all mine.”

He murmured it against your hair, both arms now wrapping around your body. You laid there, motionless in his arms, heart pounding within your ear drums. Reality came crashing down far slower than your orgasm had, but still the consequences of your actions felt weightier against your body than the man above you.

He fell to his side next to you. But he wasn’t gone, far from it, as his hands were back on your body. One trailed across your cheek, the other dabbled between your legs, toying with his cum that leaked from within you.

He smirked, eyes catching yours, “and now you’re mine, my perfect little bird.”

You were too tired to fight back, lids heavy as he held you against his warmth, the fierce wings of an invasive species draped across your naked flesh.

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