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perlelune · 5 months

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Hunger | Coriolanus Snow

From the moment your husband introduces to President Snow, you're untethered, as if the very floor was ripped from underneath you.

Warnings: NON-CON, District 12! Reader, Covey! Reader, Housewife Kink, Manipulation, Somnophilia, Breeding Kink, Chasing

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Nervousness wrenches your insides as you peer at the proceedings from afar. Another gala to raise funds in order to quell a budding rebellion in the Districts. The second one this year.

They always leave you feeling sour. It’s not like the Districts have no reason to start an uprising. The next reaping is fastly approaching and you’d rage too if your family was to go through that again.

You take a tiny sip from your glass of posca, mindful not to overindulge. The diluted, aromatic wine is far stronger than one would imagine. But a slight dash of intoxication is the only way you can see yourself getting through the night. Crowds always made you anxious, but a gathering of Capitol citizens stirs a particular discomfort in you.

You’re not one of them and you often wonder if they can tell, sense a whiff of District 12 on you. The foul stench of unbelonging. Perhaps in the manner you speak or your stance. You’ve never managed to perfectly mimic the way Capitol ladies carry themselves, born from a lifetime of practicing poise and etiquette. After all, you are an outsider, and always will be.

Regardless of how many galas you attend, fashionable dresses you order to match the quickly changing trends of the Capitol, effort you exert to erase your thick Covey accent…it seems someone can always tell there’s more to you.

It’s in that mocking glint in their eyes, that sneering lilt in their voice.

To them, you’ll never be more than District rabble.

Which is exactly why you despise these events. But your husband insisted. He’s working hard to impress his boss, the most important man in all of Panem, and you can’t let him down.

You must be the picture of charm. Laugh at every joke, nod your head when a serious topic is being broached, display interest when personal stories are being shared.

You place a hand on your roaring stomach, a frown creasing your brow. You haven’t swallowed a bite the entire day, too anxious about how tonight would go.

Your gaze darts about the room. The tantalizing spread of appetizers in the middle of the room seems to be calling your name. Your mouth waters.

Without a thought, your feet glide across the marble tiles. A little self-conscious, hesitation tingles at your fingertips as they drum by one of the silver platters. Another pang of hunger pierces your insides at the sight of the food. You cave in, picking up a tiny sandwich from a plate. Your eyes close, angels singing in your mouth as delicious aromas trickle on your tongue.

“Sweetie, there’s someone you must meet,” your husband chimes at your back.

Still chewing on a mouthful of meat and bread, you whirl. Your eyes bulge. Startled, you nearly suffocate on your food.

You quickly wipe your mouth as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve seen his face before. The murky screens do not do justice to his dashing looks.

“President Snow. It’s a pleasure. Apologies, I was…”

A smile ghosts over his lips as he drinks you in, his cerulean gaze dragging over your frame. “No apologies,” he answers silkily. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the food. At least someone is.”

He picks up your hand and presses an ephemeral peck on the back of it. You turn to Henry. The shock adorning your husband’s face mirrors yours.

President Snow’s lips curl skywards.

He lets go of your hand and adds, “It’s nice putting a face to your name. Henry is always raving about you.”

You shake your head, eyes bashfully finding the floor. “Oh, I’m sure he isn’t,” you mumble.

The blonde hums as if to disagree. He bends close to your ear.

“He’s always lauding what a wonderful wife you are, dutiful, sweet…”

…Makes me almost jealous.

Your head whips up.

You blink at the whispered words, barely above a breath. Maybe you heard wrong. It’s hard to tell, the way Snow gauges you, that subtle smile still decorating his handsome face.

He asks you trivial questions about how you’re settling in and how you’re enjoying your life in the Capitol. You answer every time, ignoring the chill dancing at the base of your spine.

His scrutiny swells your unease.

So as soon as the conversation veers away from you and towards the topics of lawmaking and taxes, you snatch the opportunity to excuse yourself.

You give an apologetic smile to your husband.

“Henry, maybe I should go. I’m not feeling too hot.”

He scowls at you. “You want us to leave already?” Disappointment bleeds in his tone. A thick layer of shame settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re being a bad wife.

“You can stay, even if I go,” you try to offer.

“There’s still so many people we haven’t talked to…” Henry argues.

You deflate. You suppose it would be uncouth to leave too early.

To your surprise, President Snow’s smooth lilt interjects, “If your wife is unwell, you both should go.”

You gape at him. A strange glint bounces in his cerulean orbs and unease flutters through you once more.

Henry sighs, grabbing your hand.

“Alright. I’ll go fetch the car.”

He gives the blond a formal salute before dragging you away.

As the two of you leave, the heat of Snow’s attention prickles along your spine.

“Did he say something to you?”

Gasping, you turn to your husband. He pointedly looks at you and you shift awkwardly in the passenger seat.

“What?” you say, taken aback by his sudden question.

He studies you for a while before his gaze drifts back to the road.

“Snow. He said something to you, didn’t he?”

Your chest clenches. Faking nonchalance, you shrug and reply lightly, “Just a joke but I didn’t understand it.”

The days soar by, humdrum and uneventful. You file away the strange moment at the gala and return to your everyday life. Henry occupies most of your time but when you’re not catering to him, you tend to the house and read. And during stolen moments…you play and sing. Henry doesn’t know, of course. It’s a life you left behind, or are supposed to at least.

You’re the wife of a Capitol official, not some District balladeer peddling song for coin.

But you can’t help it.

Singing reminds you of home. Of endless green meadows and lazy afternoons by the river. Your life from before may have been uncertain but you find yourself missing it at times. Missing the freedom to do and act as you pleased.

An orphan like so many others, the Covey were the only family you ever knew. Then you met Henry. Henry who spoke so sweetly to you and gazed at you with warm brown eyes. And he became your family. He didn’t care that you were from a District or that your manners were lacking. He embraced you.

And now you wish to support him in all that he does. Even if it means tossing away parts of yourself.

The front door cracks open, halting the path of the needle between your fingers. A smile blooms on your lips as you place Henry’s shirt on a nearby table. You can resume fixing the buttons on it later. You rise from the armchair and make your way to him. You help him out of his coat, noting the excitement radiating off his frame.

He’s not usually this ecstatic after a day of work. You tilt your head in puzzlement.

He hugs you before announcing, “We have a guest tomorrow, a very important guest.”

“Oh,” you reply, tamping down your concern. The apartment isn’t exactly ready for guests, much less important ones. The fridge needs to be stocked and the furniture requires thorough dusting.

“Yes, I was mentioning what a wonderful cook you are and he said he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Who?” you ask, your curiosity peaking.

“President Snow,” Henry replies with a victorious grin.

Dread and confusion collide inside you. Why would President Snow visit you and your husband of all people? While Henry’s been rising in ranks quite fast, you can’t picture the leader of the country making time for people like you.

But you don’t voice these thoughts, instead you inquire, “Are you sure my cooking will be enough for him? His palate is used to those fancy meals at the Capitol.”

He cradles your face and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t doubt yourself, honey. You’re an amazing cook.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” you confess, anxiously chewing on your lip.

“You won’t,” he assures. His chestnut gaze dives into yours. “This could be a great opportunity for us. Imagine what being close to Snow could do for our lives. He could promote me. We could even move to a bigger place.”

Your brows knit. “I love our place.”

Henry laughs. “Yes but the day we expand our family, you have to admit it’ll be a little small.”

You peer at your surroundings. Every corner of the little house harbors a beloved memory. You’d hate leaving it behind, but you suppose he’s right. You might outgrow it one day.

Henry frames your chin to draw your focus back to him.

“Just be yourself,” he says. “Your kind, sweet, wonderful self and all will be well.”

Nodding, you give a feeble smile.

“Understood.”

The next day is spent meticulously cleaning every inch of the house. For hours you’re anxious, wondering what to say or do, how to behave. You don’t have the natural wit and charm to impress someone like Coriolanus Snow. You keep worrying you’ll speak out of turn and embarrass Henry. Preparing dinner is the only time your mind is at rest. You stir the vegetables in the stew, smiling as the delectable scent fills your nostrils. It’s simmered for hours to create a rich flavor. It’s only your second time trying this recipe so you’re a bit nervous. Henry adored it but he’s your husband. You don’t know if President Snow’s delicate taste buds will find your meals to his liking.

You’re slightly more confident about your strawberry cake. While you struggled with it at first, the frosting never quite coming out the way you wanted, it’s now turned into one of your specialties.

The doorbell rings and you freeze. You glance up at the clock hanging near the stove. Already? Time has flown and you didn’t notice.

As you approach the door, you smooth out the wrinkles in your apron and straighten your spine. You take a deep breath before opening the door.

A wobbly smile cants your lips upwards.

“President Snow, it’s an honor,” you greet cheerfully.

The tall blond crosses the threshold after your husband. You take him in, trying to girdle your apprehension. He casts an imposing figure with his slicked back silver locks and tailored purple suit, the signature white rose pinned to his left breast pocket as always.

An aura of authority seems to follow him wherever he goes.

“Please, the honor is mine,” Snow says. His sky gaze roams across the living room. His expression is unreadable and you feel a bit self-conscious. It’s likely not as luxurious as what he’s used to. But to your surprise, he looks right at you and says, “What a lovely abode.”

His nose twitches as he hums, “I smell something heavenly, for me perhaps?”

You nod.

“I made beef stew.”

“Wonderful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment.

“Shall we sit?” Henry says, escorting him to the dining room.

You rush to the kitchen and throw your apron on a chair. Inhaling a lungful of nerve, you slip on gloves and grab the pot from the stove. Slowly, you bring out the food. Your skin tingles with the weight of Snow’s eyes on you.

You ladle out the stew on each plate. When you circle the table to serve Snow, you feel the faintest brush of fingertips over your hip. You flinch.

When you look at him, an almost imperceptible smile hovers on his lips. You blink and it almost seems like it’s gone, as if you dreamt the entire instant. The ladle wavers in your hand.

Did he mean to do that? Once again, you question your own senses, your sanity. It was a fleeting touch, the accidental kind that occurs everyday. But somehow your nerves are agitated with this mere, insignificant second.

Quickly, you round the table and plop down in the chair next to your husband. He squeezes your hand beneath the table, his brown gaze spelling “good job”. Relief sits inside you. You spent all day agonizing over every aspect of tonight so it’s nice to know Henry appreciates your efforts at least.

Everyone starts eating, your husband and Snow engaging in topics you only listen to with half an ear. Instead you focus on your plate, swallowing tiny bites of the stew.

The flavor is nice and rich, just like you hoped, and pride trickles inside you.

“You’re so silent. Are we boring you?”

Snow’s abrupt statement yanks a sharp gasp from you. Your head snaps up. You realize both he and Henry are staring at you. Your face warms.

“N-No, I just don’t have anything interesting to contribute,” you stammer, your head dipping.

“My wife has no mind for politics, I’m afraid,” Henry chuckles.

Your mouth screws shut, your fingers tightening around your spoon. It’s more that your opinions differ vastly and there are things Henry prefers you don’t say aloud.

A crooked smirk blooms on Snow’s lips.

“Ah, a pretty, silent one. I believe you lucked out with this one, Henry.”

Your teeth grind as your brows twitch. Pretty and silent. You don’t know why the words chafe you, cutting into you as deep as a knife.

You rise from your chair and grab your near empty plate.

“I should go clean the kitchen,” you announce with a terse smile.

You don’t look back as you walk away, berating yourself with every step.

This isn’t how one should behave in front of him. But you also don’t think you can spend another second in his presence.

You rub the sponge over the top of the stove, satisfaction trickling inside you as the grease and sauce stains are wiped away. You bask in the calm, concentrated on your task.

A warm breath tickles the shell of your ear.

“You seemed peeved before.”

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl on your heels. Your hand spreads over your chest as your vision is filled with the towering frame of President Snow. His stance is relaxed as he peers at you curiously.

“You scared me…President.”

He ignores your reaction, continuing his statement from before, “When we were discussing the next reaping.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t peeved.”

“Your face, it did that thing.” Your forehead creases. He inches closer. The scent of roses, thick and heady, coats your senses. Your head starts spinning. “Like now. It bothered you.”

Panic flutters through you. This is a man who could have you hanged or jailed for saying the wrong thing. But something about his expression tells you he won’t relent, that he'll only take the truth and nothing else.

So your heart spills out of you.

“In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need the Hunger Games. They are…” You trail off, remembering yourself, who you’re speaking to. You bite down your feelings and go quiet.

But Snow bends over you, crowding your space as your back hits the edge of the stove.

“What? Barbaric? Cruel?” He chuckles and goosebumps rise on your flesh. “But we do need them, dove. Every single year. So the districts never forget their place, and most importantly ours.”

Your lip quakes. Snow’s gaze follows the motion, his lips slanting lopsidedly.

“Such a sweet soul,” he whispers.

He suddenly backs away from you. Air rushes back to your lungs.

“It’s late. I should take my leave. Thank you for a most…enlightening dinner.”

You resume your life and, for a while, everything is normal. Henry doesn’t talk about that night again and neither do you, the both of you bonded by that silent agreement. Maybe he saw Snow talking to you in the kitchen, maybe he didn’t. You’ll never know as he keeps his thoughts to himself, throwing himself into his work and acting like his usual self.

And if there’s a bit more distance between the two of you in the marital bed, you try not to let it bother you. With time, the strangeness will fade and you and Henry will be back on track, trying for a child and enjoying marital bliss.

Though one evening, things are anything but normal. In fact, the world all but ends.

Your husband peruses the notice letter for rent once more. The blood seems to leave his face.

He runs his fingers through his dark curls.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands resting on his shoulders, your heart skips a beat as you read the neat printed letters.

Rent in your building has doubled overnight. If you and your husband do not pay up by next week, you will be evicted. Houseless.

Hell, you might even be sent back to your district. Your heart plummets to your feet. Your knees buckle underneath you. Henry catches you before you fall, leading you to the sofa as panicked breaths rush through your lungs.

He hunkers in front of you and holds your hands.

“I promise you I’ll find a way. Take out a loan or-”

“A loan we won’t be able to pay back?”

His jaw clenches. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

Though doubts creep inside you, you nod.

The days race along, tension growing each day as the deadline is approaching. Only three days. In just three days, you and your husband will be evicted unless a miracle happens.

And you conclude from the dark circles under Henry’s eyes and the way he barely answers when you speak to him, that he’s as clueless as you are.

There is no solution. Once again, the Capitol and its arbitrary rules strike.

So you come to a decision.

A decision that leads you in front of the biggest mansion in the entire Capitol. President Coriolanus Snow’s house. You suck in a wide lungful, quelling a shudder at the sight of the blue-clad peacekeepers lining the walls.

You stride towards the massive entrance gates. White roses twine around the wrought iron, their thorns seeming as sharp as knives.

You gather your nerves and lift a tremulous hand towards the intercom.

Before you can even state your matter, a disembodied, feminine voice rises from the device.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks stiffly.

Hasty words pour out of you. “No, but I just need a minute-”

“President Snow doesn’t accept any visitors,” she responds harshly.

Your heart sinks. Of course he doesn’t. It was naive of you to cling to the illusory hope he’d see you anyway. Just for one dinner he likely forgot about. He’s the president. There are crucial matters that perpetually call for his attention. A myriad of things bigger and more important than a single Capitol citizen’s rent issues.

Still, you elect to try again, remembering the imminent deadline.

“Please,” you beg. “It’s very important.”

A distorted sigh ripples from the intercom.

“If you do not leave the premises, we will be compelled to remove you from the property, miss.”

One of the peacekeepers posted at the gates looks straight at you, his hand tightening over the rear of his machine gun. A wave of ice spreads through your veins.

You swallow and step back, accepting your defeat. Burning with shame, you start walking away from the mansion.

But you’re hardly a feet away, as the same voice from before erupts again, much softer this time.

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t realize you were a close friend of President Snow.”

Your jaw hangs slack as you turn.

A woman with long dark hair appears through the open gates.

“Please, follow me,” she says as she approaches you. “The president will see you right away.”

Still steeped in utter shock, you acquiesce. You trail behind her. You can’t help but allow your eyes to wander as the woman escorts you through a dizzying series of hallways. While the front of the mansion is impressive with its lavish gardens and striking architecture, the inside is just as grandiose. You feel small as your gaze rests on all the sculptures and paintings decorating every corner of the house. Everywhere you look, there is something beautiful and eye-catching. The entire house is like a museum, meant to be admired rather than lived in.

Eventually the woman halts in front of a mahogany door. She tugs on the brass handles and stands to the side, making room for you to walk in. You mumble ‘thank you’ under your breath as you stumble inside the office.

President Snow’s blue eyes crinkle when they rest on you.

“Hello, dove. Why don’t you have a seat?” he offers, pointing at the chair before his desk.

Licking your lips, you do as he says. Despite the softness of the plush upholstery you sit on, your nerves flare up. You had an entire speech ready, one you practiced on the way here.

But now that you’re here, his intense focus pinned on you, you’re at a loss.

Shaky words trickle out of your mouth.

“President Snow. I know you must be so busy…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupts, leaning back in his leather chair. “I always find time for my friends.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“T-That’s a relief to hear,” you stammer.

A maid brings a kettle and biscuits on a silver platter.

“Tea?” Snow asks as he picks up the kettle.

“No, thank you.”

As Snow pours himself a cup, you ponder your next words. You don’t want to seem greedy but you can’t think of an elegant way to state your purpose.

So you settle for the truth.

“I came because…my husband and I are in a bit of trouble.”

Snow scrutinizes you for a while. Your stomach tightens.

He then gives a sluggish nod, bending forwards as his fingers lace together.

“Do tell me everything, dove.”

You do exactly that. Snow is silent as your trembling voice fills his office. No word leaves his mouth while he listens. You don’t skip out a single detail, making a point to emphasize what consequences could befall upon you and your husband should you fail to meet the deadline.

When you’re done, he sips from his tea cup and hums, “How unfortunate.”

“Can’t it be undone? I mean, couldn’t you…”

He chuckles along the porcelain rim of his cup. “I’m not responsible for every law and charter. I approve them, of course, but there are committees, councils. Each law serves the betterment of Panem as a whole. I can’t undo what has been done. I mean, how would this look to the rest of the Capitol? Like I have a different set of rules for my friends? I have to look impartial.” Heaving out a deep sigh, he sets his cup down. “Apologies, dove, my hands are tied.”

The world seems to collapse around you. Your stomach sinks.

You surmise it was too big an ask, even for the President of Panem. You can’t expect special treatment. It was silly of you to even come hoping for anything resembling that.

You were foolish. Now you must collect the pathetic remnants of your dignity and take your leave.

Gulping down the tears pressing at the back of your eyes, you nod.

“I’m sorry I asked,” you croak, already beginning to rise from your chair.

His deep lilt pauses your motion.

“But I suppose…there could be a solution. An alternative.”

Your brow furrows as you drop back on the chair.

“An alternative?”

“I could cover the difference.”

Your mouth nearly hits the floor. Snow using his own funds to help? It could be the very miracle you and your husband waited for. You would have to pay him back over time, of course. But for now, it would allow you and Henry to keep the apartment.

It’s a godsend.

“You would do that for us?” you mutter, shock stealing your air.

His reply is nonchalant. “Yes. I’d simply file it under my own personal investments.” Slanting his head sideways, he studies you. “I’d just ask for a small favor in exchange.”

“A favor?”

You wonder what kind of favor you could do for someone like Coriolanus Snow, the man who has everything and more. Gaping at him, you wait for him to elaborate.

He leans forward, crossing his arms over his desk.

“It’s not much but it would mean the world to me. The house needs some upkeep. Just a few light chores here and there. No cleaning, of course; I have an entire staff in charge of that. But the garden needs tending.” His inflection softens as he takes you in. “A home cooked meal every now and then would be nice, and I might sometimes ask you to join me for tea and conversation…” Mirth sways in his cerulean orbs. “As dreadful as that may sound.”

You move your head in assent.

“I think I can do that. But w-why me?”

He gives a long exhale, resting his jaw in his hand.

“Honestly dove? You’d be the one doing me a favor. All day, I’m surrounded by vultures.” Snow rolls his eyes skyward. “Sycophants who placate me with false smiles and honeyed lies.” His tone warms when his gaze falls back on you. “I simply wish to return home to someone genuine, someone who would never lie to me. And you wouldn’t, would you?”

“W-What?”

“Lie to me.”

Your skin heats under his scrutiny.

Trying not to squirm, you sputter, “Never, sir.”

“Music to my ears,” the young president croons.

It’s not sounding like more work than what you do at home. You can already hear Henry’s discontent echoing in your head. You won’t have as much time for him. That too will be yet another adjustment.

But what other option is there? Even the family of four above yours had to move, unable to keep up with the sudden rent increase. You and Henry could be next.

“I…W-When do I start?”

The corners of Snow’s lips tug upwards.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“You’re going to work for him?”

Henry’s displeasure ripples through you. You twine your hands and cast him an apologetic look. He despises that you went behind his back; you know that. But Henry ran himself ragged trying to come up with a solution. You didn’t want him to carry the burden on his own. That is not what a marriage is.

“He needs a housekeeper, of sorts. And he paid this month’s rent and the next upfront.”

Henry’s brows crumple. “Still, that’s…” Shoulders sagging, he crashes onto the sofa. The built-up exhaustion of the last few days seems to return all at once. You know he hasn’t slept a wink this whole week. Heart squeezing, you join his side and cradle his hand in your lap. Henry’s voice is dripping with shame and regret. “The entire reason I moved us here is so you never have to want for anything, so you wouldn’t have to work or suffer another day in this life.” His head dips. “I failed you.”

You cup his face, plunging your eyes into his.

“You didn’t fail me. And I won’t suffer. Sometimes life throws you lemons and you just have to squeeze those suckers dry.”

A hollow chuckle slips through his lips.

You run your thumbs over his growing beard.

"Listen, I know this wasn’t in our plans, but it’s just for now. In time, we’ll figure something out but I have to do this.” You lean your forehead against his. “For us.”

“Okay,” he belatedly concedes. He pulls your hands to his chest, kissing your knuckles.

“Just come home when you’re done.”

“I will,” you promise.

The first day slogs forth without a hitch. A car picks you up in the morning and drops you off at President Snow’s estate. The dark-haired woman from before welcomes you, introduces you to the staff and walks you through your duties. You learn her name is Ariadne.

You spend most of the day busy in the garden and library. Snow’s garden of roses might be one of the hidden treasures of Panem. Taking care of it is a pleasure and you even give yourself some minutes to bask in the sun’s warmth.

The library shelves need dusting and you tend to this task as well, humming familiar tunes to yourself while working. It is no harm if no one is around to hear you sing.

You don’t get bored as there’s always a task requiring your attention in the massive house.

When stars begin to dust the darkening sky, you rush to the kitchen. You get started on dinner. Staff members give you space to work and you’re grateful. You don’t like being ogled while you cook. You marvel at the gold, high-end appliances as you knead your dough. The kitchen is pristine, like everything else in the house. You settle for something simple, hearty and warm. There is no point in pretending you’re some fancy chef when you’re not. If it’s what Snow desired, he’d have hired one. There’s a plethora of them in the Capitol for him to choose from after all. And they’d all line up outside his house in a heartbeat if he requested it.

You stand nervous, hands folded in your lap as the meal you prepared is brought out onto silver plates. You spent hours on it. Hopefully he likes it.

“This smells like heaven,” Snow purrs.

He then points at the chair next to his on the long table.

“Have a seat.”

Your eyes bulge. Not only are you stunned by his request, as there are so many other chairs on the gigantic dinner table, but you were hoping to return home to Henry once dinner was served.

“Oh, I thought…”

He smiles at you. “I hate dining alone.”

You consider arguing. But as you remember all that you owe him, your mouth squeezes shut. You give a meek nod and drag your feet to the chair.

“Of course.”

You pick up your knife and fork…one of the knives and forks. You choose at random, unsure what purpose each of the cutlery items serves.

A smile waltzes upon Snow’s lips as he watches you. Shame pools in your gut. You feel like you’re making a fool of yourself.

He takes a bite of food and hums low in his throat, his eyes closing.

“Your cooking never fails to amaze, dove,” he lauds. Blue eyes search your face. “Are you hiding other talents from me?”

Your eyes lock onto your napkin, following the swirl of the flower patterns sewn in the corners. “I don’t think so,” you mumble.

Dinner continues in silence, only occasionally shattered by Snow’s sounds of delight and words of praise. Your own bites are small. While you’re glad it turned out the way you wanted, you’d rather save your appetite for home.

When a maid brings tea after the meal, Snow raises a dismissive hand.

“We’ll have tea and cakes in the study,” he announces.

Your face scrunches. “But it’s getting late. I should-”

“I must insist,” he interrupts. He rises from his seat and offers you his outstretched hand.

His smile broadens.

“You would rob me of your company so swiftly, dove? How cruel of you.”

Reluctantly, you accept the hand he gives you. He helps you out of your chair and motions at you to follow him.

The both of you end up in his study, sitting by the fire. Tea is placed on the small table between you. Coriolanus takes a slow sip while you fiddle with your hands.

His cerulean gaze locks with yours.

“That song you were humming earlier.”

Your chest seizes.

The loud thudding of your heart fills your ears. You swallow thickly.

“A song?”

“Yes,” he says absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his cup. He gives a small stir before bringing it to his lips again. “I heard it as I walked by the library.”

You try not to let your panic show, cloaking yourself in false nonchalance. You thought you were discreet, quiet almost.

“Ah, that. It’s nothing,” you elude.

“No, it was lovely. You have the voice of an angel.”

The compliment leaves you speechless.

But his next words tie your stomach in knots.

“I want to hear it again.”

“I don’t really…perform for audiences.”

“You mean since you left the Covey?”

Mouth agape, you stare at him. How did he find out? You don’t remember ever bringing it up. In fact, you wouldn’t. You expend great effort to hide your past on a daily basis.

Your reaction draws a snort from him. Amusement bounces in his orbs.

“Come on, dove, that accent…It might fool others but not me.”

“I don’t sing anymore,” you state firmly.

Even if you did, you wouldn’t do it for Coriolanus Snow. Not of your own free will.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His inflection becomes sharp, all softness evanescing. “Remember when I told you that I hated lies?” His pointed gaze sends chills through your body. “Sing for me, dove.”

Your mouth goes dry as sand.

You understand his words for what they are. An order from your president. A strange order…but an order nonetheless.

You don’t get to refuse. You’re to sing for him, whether it pleases you or not.

Like a bird in a cage.

So you do it. Your lips fall open and clear, soft notes rise out of you. A traditional song your mother taught you. It tells the story of a girl who meets a boy with ocean eyes, how she drowns in them but the fall is like rising to heaven.

As your voice fills his office, Snow’s scorching gaze doesn’t leave you.

When the song is done, he doesn’t applaud or praise you.

Instead, his eyes bear into you for what feels like an eternity. You try not to move, though your heart thunders in your chest.

“See, was that so hard?” he asks, that cocky smile still adorning his lips. You don’t reply, your throat ablaze. It felt as if you didn’t belong to yourself just then. And it terrifies you. He slides your untouched cup towards you. “Drink your tea before it gets cold. Then, you can go home.”

Without a protest, you lift the cup to your mouth. One measly cup of tea and you’ll get to go home. Then this uncomfortable evening can end. Finally.

But as the liquid trickles inside your mouth, tendrils of darkness lurk in your vision. Your body gets heavier. So heavy you can’t hold the cup anymore, or even yourself. The porcelain dish vanishes from your hands. You sag into your chair.

Progressively, colors dim around you.

Then sleep drags you down into a rabbit hole of utter oblivion. And all is blackness.

Softness like you’ve never felt before greets you when you awake. Like being embraced by fluffy clouds. For a while, you linger in the comfortable sensation, humming against the plush blankets. But as your eyes land on the thin slice of sunlight spilling from the window, you unleash an audible gasp.

You bolt in a sitting position.

Your eyes widen as you find Ariadne observing you between the velvet curtains at the end of the bed.

Gripping the side of your head, you glance at your surroundings. Clearly, you’re in a room. But how did you wind up here? No matter how hard you try, you can’t summon a single memory from last night.

“Ariadne? What happened?”

She circles the bed to take a seat next to you. Her gentle tone alleviates your rising panic.

“You fell asleep,” she explains. “Master Snow brought you here so you can get some proper rest.”

You sigh. It does make sense. Though you can’t stamp out the trickle of embarrassment sitting inside you with that knowledge. You dozed off on the job, on your first day. Hopefully, Snow isn’t too offended.

“I must have been more tired than I thought,” you mutter, looking down.

“He’s gone now; he had urgent business at the Justice Building. But he insisted you eat a proper meal before you go.” She points at the golden food cart near the bed, every tray brimming with pastries, fruits, meats and cheeses. Way more than you could eat in a single meal.

The kind of decadent abundance the Capitol likes to indulge in.

You politely decline.

“I can’t…I have to return to my husband. He must be worried sick.”

Ariadne puts a hand on your arm.

“Word has been sent to him that you were simply tending to Master Snow’s needs last night.”

You purse your lips. It’s not ideal but at least he knows you were working.

“Good,” you reply, nodding.

You yank the blanket off your body, determined to stand up and leave. But as soon as you’re on your feet, you crash back down on the bed, a strange ache awakening in your limbs.

Your forehead creases. You hug your stomach, a vicious cramp creeping there too.

Ariadne’s immediately at your side, placing her hands over your arms.

“Take it easy, miss,” she warns. “You exerted yourself a great deal yesterday.” She beams brightly. “In fact, Master Snow has given you a few days off. He was very satisfied with your work and expects you in three days’ time.”

Your brows rise. “Oh, that’s very generous.”

Her grin expands.

“He is exceedingly pleased with your performance.”

Over the next few weeks, Snow keeps summoning you sporadically. The days you work for him are pretty much the same. You attend to your daily tasks, you cook for him and then the two of you have tea in his study. He has you sing for him sometimes. You’ve learnt to swallow your feelings and perform according to his whim. You don’t even sing to yourself anymore, the exultation you drew from it all but gone. It was a way to stay connected to your Covey roots, to keep your family close to your heart. Now you can’t do it without his icy gaze invading your thoughts.

You often end up incredibly tired on those days, your body aching and sore for hours afterwards. You never imagined working for Coriolanus Snow would drain you so much. Falling asleep in his house even turns into a regular occurrence, happening almost every time you show up for work.

Naturally, Henry isn’t thrilled with that. Every time you come back home, too tired to wait on him hand and foot like you used to, his displeasure grows.

But he’s also yet to find a way to fix the issue, so the two of you must keep working. You’ve already sold everything that you could, clothes, any belonging of slight value.

The gap is still too vast.

And the city won’t allow you to apply for another place to live, claiming the waitlist is already sky-high.

Though you resent it, Coriolanus Snow is your only hope.

“You’re not in charge of dinner tonight,” Ariadne announces one night as you fire the stove.

You turn the burners off, your eyes rounding.

“I’m not?”

A bright smile blooms on the brunette’s face.

“Master Snow is inviting you to dine with him as his guest, to express gratitude for your outstanding work.”

Your lips part in surprise. In the many weeks you’ve worked for President Snow, this has never happened. You have shared meals, of course, but you’ve never received such a formal invitation.

You suppose it’s all a game to Snow, and he simply changes the rules whenever he feels it.

She astonishes you further when she urges you to follow her to one of the guest bedrooms.

Utter dismay fills you.

A white dress lies atop the bed. The sleeveless evening gown looks more expensive than any dress you’ve ever laid eyes on. The delicate white silk flares at the waist, the gigantic, fluffy layered skirt making your head spin already. You imagine how hard it'd be to move in such a dress. Though you surmise it won’t be too much of a concern as you only need to sit through dinner with it.

“Master Snow expects you to wear this tonight,” Ariadne chimes.

She helps you slip on the dress, a task you undoubtedly would have struggled to complete on your own, the many layers of tulle, silk and lace of the huge skirt alone their own challenge.

Eventually, you’re dressed.

She escorts you to the dinner room. Curious eyes dart about the halls, noting their unusual emptiness. Not a single footman, maid or Avox in sight.

You’re alone.

“The house is very quiet,” you point out.

Ariadne beams at you from above her shoulder.

“The entire staff’s been sent home. Master Snow wants to wait on you himself tonight.”

Your stomach knots, a foreboding feeling swelling within you.

Still, you glide forward. It’s a little late to turn back.

When you enter the diner room, Snow’s face lights up. He makes his way to you. As usual, he’s dashing, his platinum blonde locks neatly combed back and his crimson suit highlighting his tall frame.

His gaze twinkles as he drinks you in.

“You’re a vision, dove.” He lifts your hand and brushes his lips over your knuckles. His eyes slam into yours. Time seems to hang still for a few seconds. “As I know you would be.”

Keeping your hand in his, he escorts you to your seat. He pulls your chair for you and you fumble with your skirt a little before finding a comfortable way to sit.

“So…no maids today?” you say lightly.

His lips slant. He removes the lid off one of the pots. The mouthwatering smell instantly reaches you.

“I thought it’d be nicer to enjoy a quiet, private dinner together, as a way to celebrate.”

Your face contorts into a puzzled expression.

“Celebrate?”

“Your last day as my housekeeper,” he replies cheerfully.

Your heart misses a beat. Is he firing you?

You attempt to tamp down the quake in your voice. You fail miserably.

“Really?”

He gauges you and his smile grows.

“Yes. In fact, you and your husband will never have to worry about rent anymore. Him especially. Everything’s settled.”

An audible exhale slips through your mouth.

“This is…I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say thank you.”

“Thank you, President Snow.”

His laugh resonates in the near empty dining room.

“Please, call me Coriolanus.” He ladles soup onto your plate before bending close. You tense as his warm breath ghosts over your temple. “We’re quite…close now, aren’t we, dove?”

You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“I suppose we are…Coriolanus.”

You wince. Uttering his name feels wrong, forbidden almost.

Satisfaction doesn’t part from his handsome features as he regains his seat. He gestures for you to start eating. You feel a bit self-conscious as he observes you intently.

Still, you do as he heeds, not needing to be told twice.

The quicker you eat, the quicker you’ll get to be home and out of the uncomfortable dress.

You groan as your lids flutter, a blurry shape rocking back and forth in your vision. Fatigue tugs at your heavy limbs as you stir. Your forehead scrunches. Your body’s hot, like a furnace, like you’re burning from the inside out. Tingles spark somewhere in you and you keen sharply, leaning into the sensation. Feverish whispers surround you, words you don’t comprehend in your daze.

The pull and tear. The pleasure mingling with the pain. You’re in a strange dream, maybe a nightmare.

Deep-chested grunts land in your ears. You awake further. It’s a voice you recognize, from somewhere…but not like this. Never like this. Something’s wong. Your forehead wrinkles. Something’s wrong but you’re so tired. So so tired. Your mind’s like cotton. Your limbs are as rocks.

As your lids sag, something slams into you. Fast, hard and vicious.

Your heart bounces. Your eyes snap open.

Your stomach drops.

A sinister smile you know too well by now welcomes you.

“Hello, dove. Awake, finally,” Snow whispers, his hips snapping into yours. Your breath catches as his cock grazes against your sweet spots. You clench around him and he chuckles darkly. “That angle always does it for you.” Smugness oozes off his hoarse timbre.

You look up at him. Sweat dots his brow, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes are cloudy with lust. His white shirt is half open, revealing a glimpse of the bare, glistening muscles underneath.

And as your gaze travels lower, horror flares inside you.

You gape with wide eyes as his veiny length disappears inside you. Again and again. The fluffy white shirt is bunched around your waist, your panties torn, exposing your lower body to President Snow’s lewd scrutiny entirely. His large hands dig into your hips, trailing crescent bruises in the shape of his fingernails.

Your shocked gaze finds his.

His smile expands.

“P-President Snow, what are you doing?”

You know it’s a stupid question…but you have to make sense of this. Because none of this can be real. Maybe it’s a nightmare and you’re still sleeping.

You gasp as he pushes you into the mattress, piledriving into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Taking what’s mine, of course,” he says matter-of-factly, hooking his arm under your thigh.

He lifts you and spreads you even more. His darkened gaze follows the motion of his cock as he pounds into you, an insatiable look twisting his handsome features.

Reaching between your tangled bodies, he pinches your tender heap of nerves. He rubs against it, teasing it with maddening circles until your legs quake. You come apart beneath him, crying out as your back arches against the soft sheets.

“Please, stop,” you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

Snow’s pace quickens. Ragged moans tear from your throat. Your vision flickers.

He bends over you to lick one of your tears, humming in satisfaction at the taste.

His lips drag against yours as he asks, “Is it truly what you want? Because it’s kind of hard to tell the way your pussy hugs my cock.” His mouth curves upward against your cheek. “Like it does every time.”

A wave of ice spreads through you.

Every time? Realization hits you, knife-like as it pierces through the veil of denial.

Every time…

The pieces fall into place as you remember all those times you fell asleep, unable to recall how you ended up in bed. Tired, confused…sore.

A shudder shoots through your frame.

You twist your body as panic seizes you.

Coriolanus growls when you clamber away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. You curse the pesky gown and the way it hinders your movements.

He yanks you back with ease, gripping the back of your head and shoving you down into the mattress.

Lips graze your earshell as he snarls, “Where are you going? We’re not done. We have to make sure you carry the next Snow heir.” In one stroke, he sinks into you from behind. You choke on your breath, the pain snatching your air. With one hand cinched around the back of your neck, he starts rutting into you. Your bruised folds ache at the blunt invasion. Still, your core clings to him in a way that stirs shame in your gut. “Although after all these times…” You hear the smile in his conceited inflection “It’s a given, isn’t it?”

Your eyes swell with tears. Your lips part in a silent scream. The sick song of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with his feral moans.

Each time your walls tighten around him, bile rises up your throat.

“What have you done to me?” you sob against the drenched silk sheets.

“Oh, I think you know,” he purrs. His warm breath fans over your scalp. “You can feel it, can’t you? How well your body knows me now, dove.”

His hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier. His cock twitches inside you. As warmth trickles alongside your walls, you feel sick again. He remains nestled inside you a while, panting above you and shoving the excess back in as you remain still.

As you feel his digits poke and prod, a chill runs through you.

You can’t let him touch you again.

You keel over the edge of the bed, heading straight towards the floor. Pain ripples through your knees as they hit the carpet. You’re forced to ignore the crack resounding through your bones, awkwardly getting to your feet and dashing to the wooden swing doors.

Coriolanus’ wicked laugh echoes behind you.

“Oh, dove, if you wanted to play hide and seek, all you needed to do was to ask,” he taunts.

Terror grips your throat. You ignore it alongside everything else. Alongside the pain, alongside the uncertainty, alongside the fact that you can still feel him inside you. Like you never left the bed. Like you’re still caged in his embrace.

Your legs carry you, barefoot and panicked, as you run through the palatial hallways as fast as the bothersome white dress will allow.

The president’s deep voice bounces against the ornate walls.

“Ready or not, here I come, my darling.”

The blood rushes to your feet. Your head spins and your feet tangle. You trip. Immediately, you gather yourself. You lift the skirt and dive hastily towards the living room. You duck behind a sofa.

It’s a pathetic place to hide; you know it. But the lavish mansion is nothing but open spaces doused in sunlight.

There is nowhere to hide.

The clamor of your heart is deafening in your ears as you hear objects crash to the floor a few feet away from you. Hand over your mouth to keep every sound in, you jerk every time the racket grows on the other side of the sofa.

His frustration coats the air.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, dove,” he calls, his tone icier than before.

You freeze, holding your breath and wishing he doesn’t think to look where you are.

The minutes pass, agonizingly slow. The flimsy hope that he may have left even begins to bloom inside you.

Hot air suddenly breezes over your nape.

“Found you.”

Your heart leaps to your throat. You go still. Coriolanus hauls you from the floor, half-carrying you and half-lugging you across the living room. You try to bite and claw any part of him you can reach but his hand locks around your throat.

He slams you harshly against a wall. Your head rings, the lines of his face momentarily doubling in your vision. You bite his hand. Cursing under his breath, he bangs your head against the wall again. You go limp.

Through your hazy sight, you note the scarlet trail streaking the back of his hand. You drew blood. Even if you’re lost, you bask in the ephemeral second of victory.

He carries your unmoving form the rest of the way back to his bedroom. You loathe yourself for your stillness. You want to put up a fight. You want to claw. You want to bite. You want to kill him with your bare hands.

But all you can do is simmer in helplessness as he brings you right back to the very place you tried to escape.

He gently releases you on the bed then climbs over you. Goosebumps erect on your flesh as he caresses the side of your face, a strangely fond gesture considering everything he put you through.

“Please,” you mumble weakly. “You can have anyone you want. I have a husband.”

His face contorts into an expression of pure mockery, as if what you said was beyond ludicrous.

“I don’t want just anyone.” He lifts your chin, scorching blue gaze diving into yours. “I want you.”

“As for your husband…” His voice trails off as he traces your trembling bottom lip with his thumb. A crooked smirk drags his lips skyward. He leans over you to whisper, “Well I did say he’ll never have to worry about rent ever again, didn’t I?”

Your heart sinks. You can’t believe you trusted Coriolanus Snow. A foolish mistake. A dangerous mistake. One you’re now paying dearly. He not only trapped you…he also hurt Henry.

All because of you.

You will never forgive yourself.

“What did you do to him?” you ask, anger and heartbreak making your voice wobble.

A chill-inducing glint dances in his orbs.

“I haven’t done anything.” He cocks his head. “Rebels are criminals of the state and shall be sentenced as such.”

The world collapses around you.

A chasm of despair swallows you whole as quiet tears stream down your face.

As sobs shake your frame, President Snow plants soft kisses on your wet cheeks. You feel him grow hard against your belly as he hums, as if the taste of your hopelessness was ambrosia to him. Heavenly sweet.

He cups your face.

“Do not fret, dove. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a second of his execution.” The emptiness of his blue eyes staggers you, their depths as icy as a frozen lake. “It’s important for all citizens of Panem to learn from watching.”

The expression on his face turns downright diabolical. His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek.

“And I want you to learn as you watch the light go out in his eyes, dove, that this was inevitable, that I always win.”

His tone softens as his hands drag over your hips.

“I wonder how many children you’ll give me. Will they all sing as pretty as you?” The hurried rustle of his pants as he frees his cock freezes your blood. He bites his lip, lust already misting his gaze as he prods impatiently at your entrance.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out,” he croons.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

another thought about ghost courting - he bumbles his way through and it somehow actually works, you start finding his attempts cute until eventually you’re lying in bed thinking about him and you have a moment of realisation of “god dammit i like him”

Okay, okay okay, now i'm invested in this lol SFW but slightly suggestive.

You should be asleep. You've been trying to fall asleep for god knows how long, the blinking green numbers of your alarm clock mocking you with every change— minute after minute, hour after hour, tick tick ticking by until you're ready to tear the sheets with your claws.

Something buzzes at the back of your skull like a swarm of wasps, yet you're unable to understand what it is as you glare uselessly at the ceiling as if it'll reveal all the answers. Then your eyes flicker to the nightstand, the small bone charm sitting on it. It's a piece of bleached white bone carved into rough shape by unskilled hands, the edges sharp, and you're not quite able to tell what it's supposed to be but Simon made it for you.

He made it for you.

And you could the flush beneath his mask when he'd handed it to you, trying to remain stoic despite the nervousness gnawing on his nerves. God he'd looked so adorable, staring at you with confusion and surprise when you'd purred at the sight of his gift, his eyes analyzing every little movement you made as the whisps of shadow coming off his arms fizzled like pop rocks.

God you'd just wanted to devour him there and then, to coax that mask off him so you could see his face; you didn't doubt a second he'd turn red like a lobster, eyes blown wide and the most needy sound escaping his bitten lips as he writhed underneath you as you two—

Shit.

You liked him.

That ancient element in your bones woke up with a start when your brain registered you had a potential mate, all exhaustion leaving your body as you got up and out of your room, head held in the air and mouth open to track his scent like a bloodhound, able to taste him on your tongue as you found your way to the roof.

He turned when he heard the door open, mask lifted up to his nose so he could smoke in peace. His eyes widened when he saw your glowing eyes peering back at him, like small lights that lured prey into anglerfish jaws.

"Somethin' the matter?" He asked, brows furrowed as you sniffed the air.

Your nose wrinkled as nicotine muddled the sharpness of his scent, and before you knew it you were stomping right up to him, your clawed hands wrapping around his waist as you burrowed your face into his neck.

"What the fock are you doing?" Simon growled, a shiver racing down his spine when you nuzzled his skin, the light scrape of your fangs causing a lick of adrenaline to spark in his system. But he didn't push you away, you were one of the few people he ever let touch him longer than a second.

"Simon," You voice warbled, the silence behind your letters filled with inhuman sounds. You breathed in deep, purring at his scent, of gunpowder and blackwood and something distinctly Simon filled your nose. "Mate." You purred louder, feeling it vibrate against his chest.

Ghost nearly choked at your words, the cigarette dropping to the floor as his mind stuttered like an old computer. "Wha- . . .what?"

"Mate." You repeated, and Christ did that word sound good on your tongue, your tongue coming out to lick a stripe up his neck, grinning when he wrapped his own arms around you like you were a raft in the storm. "My mate."

Simon could feel his heart beat faster, thumping in his ears like a nervous rabbit as you nuzzled further into his neck, spreading your scent on him. "Yeah?" He asked carefully, "Yours am I?"

You grumbled and lifted your head to nuzzle your cheek against his — the best you could do as a kiss when you had a mouth full of sharp teeth. "Yes," You grunted, holding the back of his neck, feeling him progressively go slack against you. "And I'm more than happy to prove it."

The hungry look in your eyes made him shiver with anticipation.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #top gn reader #dom gn reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod modern warfare

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

wonder how i got by this week, i only touched you once

authors note; hi! this is my first but also not really my first jj piece. i had an old account here but i deleted it over a year ago, however my love for obx has not changed which explains why i am back lols. i am just testing the waters again here, and letting my thoughts go. i also proofread but sometimes not well enough so you may come across an error or two. gif and divider creds to owner. & feel free to send asks, guidelines for those are coming soon.

warnings; fluff, very clingy!jj, & language

summary; if jj could sow his skin to yours, he would.

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

an imprint.

you were sure that was all that was going to be left of you on that twin mattress. not that you were deemed in your last moments of life or anything, but because your boyfriend’s grasp on you in his sleep is not suitable for the weak. it should be described as something resembling a death grip. body tinging with restlessness & the mere moments of having laid here wide away for the past two hours. jj’s body heat radiating onto you at a battle with the sun, that is currently piercing through jj’s bedroom window at the chateau. who knew delirium would gather as quickly as it did, every time you peered toward the bathroom you swore it got three feet farther. hair plastered to the sides of your face, you huffed out of frustration.

jj was damn near on top of you. legs wrapped miraculously around yours, twisting and tangling themselves together. his black boxers riding low, as his waste lovingly crushed yours. the sleep weight of him, was like jj plus two. not to be dramatic but you were gasping for air at one point. his top half, guided by his bottom half. skin sticking to skin, whilst you glistened with sweat, jj somehow still had features like that of angel. well, pardoning the snoring. the abs of his stomach glided against your ribs, hanging onto you as if you’d be gone with one goodbye. the tips of his disheveled blonde locks tickled your temple. mouth slack open, roaring desperately into your ear.

what anyone would be thinking right now is, why not just fucking get up ?

two issues with that. the stickiness of your skin unattaching itself from his was sure to wake him up. anytime you made something even resembling a movement he found a way to force you close into him. and he would never let your hear the end of it, he’d make certain to whine and complain all day about “how you wouldn’t love him back” or some shit like that. he’s definitely more dramatic than you, however this was not cuddling. this was a bear hugging a tree and you were his tree to mangle and rip apart whenever he saw fit.

the other issue being, jj’s room has miscellaneous trash littering the entirety of it. in an instant, if your leg were to loom over the side of jj’s bed the crackling of a beer can or a water bottle was going to crush beneath your foot.

“fuck me,” you silently cursed yourself.

nearly approaching three pm, is what jj’s alarm clock read. you still to this day wonder why such an unproductive, procrastinating type person has the need for one, but that’s just jj.

you’d decided you couldn’t bear taking it anymore, combination of hot breath shelling your ear mixed with the stench of muggy air. you craved a shower, brushing your teeth, to piss for Christ’s sake, and your personalized skin care routine if you could muster up enough time to do so …

wriggling a tad, you pulled back the limp limb that is his arm which has been thrown over your neck for best part of his slumber. jj being a light sleeper, it was stupid of you to even attempt. within milliseconds his arm is thrown over your collar bone, whisping you into him once again. out of instinct a minuscule peck was placed to your ear lobe, his breaths interrupted by your movement. a faint grumble between his lips, signaling for you to keep your ass still.

but, you simply could not. you were going to get up, and you refused to feel horrid for it because jj has had well over his ‘must have’ eight hours of sleep.

“j,” you gulped. contemplating today’s reaction of the constant battle, you blink slowly awaiting his response.

a hm escaped jj’s lips, barely awake but staying awake because his girl never deserved to be ignored.

“let me up,” on the brink of a demand, his eyes opened fully at that, furrowing eyebrows out of frustration.

jj wanted you to save him until the both of you were buried alive. he hungered to be inside of your skin. the true depth of being his girlfriend, you already acknowledged those things. there’s no showering alone, there’s no eating alone, no going to the bathroom alone, you don’t remember the last time you did your own makeup alone. he knew that if he was going to be with someone it could not be just anyone, the dynamic had to work. he was aware of his neediness and constant clinging, you were as well, before you even begun dating you had the willingness to admit you always had a soft spot for jj. you weren’t sure if it was the empath in you and the sheerness of being a human being. he’d been abandoned and abused since he was young, you wouldn’t be the one to return the favor.

the both of you just work.

it makes sense that the passion and the ethereal ache for want has never left, loves you just the same as the day he met you in eighth grade.

bringing him to his now decision as to wether or not he wanted to actually let you up or to fuck with you.

“stay with me.”

he uttered; partially truthful, partially not. he despised the feeling of the empty bed settling in if you were to get up, though he’d known you were due for a piss right about now.

“i have to get up, m’all sweaty and you aren’t helping.”

your explanation was understandable, but he still wasn’t having it. an eternity encompassed in your affections was a dream, and living in that dream he would presume possible for as long as you’d allow him.

“suffer a few more minutes.”

“j, i’m serious.”

he edged a tight lipped smile, noticing the eye roll and glistening beauty of your forehead. eyes inspecting you as though it was the first time. your sports bra adorned just how he’d liked, chest rising and falling faster then usual, appearing as if you’d ran a mile and then some. something so sweet about the scent of your skin, he’d breathe in continuously saturating his senses in the symphony that is you.

“what’s a man gotta do for few more minutes hm?”

he’s atop you now, hands at either side of your head. towering over to make eye contact— a sign that you yearned for him as he did you.

staring up at him, a yes is on the tip of your tongue but you’ve sacrificed enough of your day dedicated to cuddling jj. shuffling his weight onto one hand his thumb dusted past your chin and to your cheek bone, trying to lull you back in all at once. tilting your head in a swift movement, he lowers himself itching to press your unearthly soft lips with his. you did not oblige, smashing a hand to his lips.

“you’re not getting a kiss.”

“then you aren’t getting up,” he chimed. “as easy as that, baby.”

“jj! i am hot, and i smell like ass, if you don’t let me up don’t expect a kiss at all.”

you bargained, unable to win this fight you’d be giving in within minutes.

“well, i for one, like hot ass .. your hot ass in particular.”

your throat ran dry, willing to just do it out of desperation for a shower. the feathered blonde of his hair wavered as his head turned about, with the click of his tongue murmuring a muffled tick tock against the back of your hand.

“one fucking kiss jj.”

you’d agreed, hand faintly falling backward as you embraced him. your lips pucker for a slight peck but jj had far more in mind. the peck tainted his lips, the peck was for hurries only. jj ruled this as a no hurry situation though to you it was past a hurry. when you pull away from the peck, jj writhes his hand around your neck gently. wrestling his pair of lips with yours, teeth pulling at your lip for entrance, and you didn’t find yourself pulling away. two tongues swiveling and swirling just the way jj liked. God, he just could not get enough of the way your tongue molded with his. besotted that they fit together just right.

you break the trance, not allowing jj to reel you back in again.

“gotta brush my teeth now, j.”

your voice somewhat pleaded, a small boyish pout forming. groaning and all the extras accompanying jj maybank.

“okay okay, i’ll give you a few.”

rolling off of you, he gave way for you to do all that you pleased. you grinned his way as he sent a toothy one back. you felt free, as you did all the times before you had to force jj off of you. you could move and you did so at a rapid pace, before the whining begun. kicking beer cans out of the way you seemed to take your first step to the bathroom but that is until the palm of jj’s hand collides with the bottom of your ass.

“hurry up, you sexy motherfucker!”

your cheeks tainted red at his outburst, all of the cut could’ve heard it. but you laugh with ease, at your attention seeking boyfriend.

“won’t be long okay?”

you offer him a hug, a show of infatuation; before you were officially off to the bathroom, with intentions of closing the door. he encapsulates you, swallowing you whole with his arms. he peppered multiple kisses to your forehead.

“don’t shower without me, pretty girl.”

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bahbah-bee · 1 year

Text

Snatched (Yandere!Harpy!Taehyung x Reader x Yandere!Harpy!Yoongi) - Part 1

Warnings: Dark, Dystopian, Innuendos, Discrimination, Rape (Discussion), Kidnapping, Misogyny, Descriptive Medicine, Unsettling Topics, eventual noncon (not this part). You have been warned.

Word Count: 8,200 Words

Summary: There were two important things to remember in this world: That harpies were stronger than humans and that helping others always came at a cost. You never seemed to understand that. Even when your clients warned you to run, you helped regardless. Even when your boss acted strange, you assisted him as needed. It isn't until you're in too deep that it occurs to you... you may be the next one snatched. (Polyamorous Taehyung + Jimin)

Inspired by Remember to be Gentle's Harpy Universe

@remember-to-be-gentle

Note: Yoongi is a very soft yandere in this compared to Taehyung. There is a lot of plot buildup, but once you get past that it gets super dark, so be prepared! This was originally supposed to be one part, but ended up being so long I had to split it into two. The second part will probably be uploaded within a few weeks.

Very little noise filled the city, and a chill ran through passerby’s as the temperature dropped. Rats scuttled along corners and dirt was kicked up by shoes. The sky was dark and twinkling stars could barely be seen along the horizon. The outskirts were usually abandoned by the Harpy folk, as it tended to be the dirtier and more crowded part of the city. However, it was more quiet and pleasant in the afternoon, with the 9:00 pm curfew taking place. You didn’t mind the curfew. It made things easier for you. You were less likely to be spotted this way.

“Hey (Y/N).” You turned your head. Little whisps of hair swished against the side of your neck, as you peered around. “This way through the back door. Quick!” A hushed whisper could be heard through a side door in the alley. A strand of ruby red hair was all you saw before the individual popped back inside. It wasn’t proper for individuals to be caught out this late, and anyone could easily lose their caste status.

Running through the side door, you scraped your muddy boots against the door mat, before quietly shutting the door. Not a moment could be wasted. All noise quieted for a moment, as around twenty heads swiveled to see who had entered the home. Once it was determined you weren't a threat, the chatter went back to a normal level. Though I guess dangerous business, couldn't be considered normal "chatter".

"Did you bring the medicine?" A voice asked expectantly from the corner. It was the girl who had let you in, maybe ten years of age at most. She was sat in a corner, with tattered clothes and bags around her eyes. Her fierce red locks had darkened around the edges due to soot. It was unclear the last time she had slept or even taken a bath. Her family clearly had not been given a higher status.

You nodded.

"Yeah, I did. Is she upstairs?" The girls petite fingers wrapped around your hand as she nodded and led you along. Callouses created a roughness to her palms that created friction between your hands. It was discouraged for young girls to be working at her age, but in the families of lower class, it was a necessary option to survive. It was understandable that callouses would occur, but it didn't make the grimace upon your face lesson any more. You were grateful your own family had not yet had to resort to your siblings working, but it didn't make you any less fearful of the day eventually occurring. You were grateful to Yoongi for that at least. You wouldn’t have to worry about them, with him watching over you.

As you ascended the stairs of the small home, you noticed small bits of your surrounding. It was very rare for humans to own property. Costs were always rising for housing, and those who could buy homes, often settled for the affordable minimalist settings. The walls were scraped up from wear and tear and you observed of an old family. You had no idea who they were, but that was not uncommon. These meetings always occurred that way; Always at a different location, run by different folk. You're ragtag group of people considered themselves a "rebellion”, though you rarely thought of yourself that way. You weren't interested in changing society or burning it to the ground, you just wanted to survive and not be in pain anymore. Most of the people around you felt the same way.

You could hear crying from around the corner. A woman in her mid twenties was on a cot in a room to your left. She had fiery red hair similar to that of the young girl and it was clear by the bags under her eyes and the similarly styled clothing that they were related. You quickly knelt before the young woman, and rustled through your satchel to find the bag of pills. Situations like this were always difficult for you. Pouring two little blue pills into your hand, you handed them over to the fragile woman gently. She tried to put on a smile in thanks, but it seemed to more into a grimace as the pills slid down her throat. You didn't need her gratitude, just the assumption that she'd be safe in the future.

After you both took a few more deep breaths, you explained what would happen.

"Those will make sure that nothing that occurred today will be permanent, I can assure you." You patted the hand held in yours. "Since you are within a 24 hour window of the incident, there is no chance you will be pregnant. I have other pills you should take from here on out, in case the same Harpy comes for you again." You paused. Stray tears streamed down her cheeks, and you shut your eyes to try to focus your thoughts. “For now, just take a lot of deep breaths. You’re gonna get through this. There are so many people that need you right now; Including your sister, right at your side." You slowly relinquished your hold on her hand, as her sister came to settle into her side on the cot. It creaked with old age, but it was clear the sisters weren't going anywhere tonight. Not with how distraught the older sibling was. You rose from the side of the bed, as there was nothing else you could do. As they settled into the sheets and the younger one sang to the older one, you took that as your clue to leave.

You slowly shut the door and took a few deep breaths as your back laid against the old wood. Resting your head against the door, you knew the two ladies were too wrapped up in comforting each other to hear anything outside. You had to hold yourself together for the meeting. Regardless of how, your eyes seemed to dampen around the edges for the young siblings. Humans could be just as dangerous if they sensed hesitancy. The ladies father, a man by the name of Robert, approached you from the corner of your eye. You had met the man only once, but had a feeling of what he was gonna say.

"So is he gonna come after her again? I can't have another Harpy taking my daughter. Not like they did my son." His arms wrapped around himself in a show of fear. A minute later, the clenching of the doorframe said enough of his current mental state. Robert lost his twenty two year old son a few years ago to a female Harpy. She had met him at a concert and decided his kind nature was a perfect reason to snatch him for herself. That's what it was always called. Being snatched. Harpies commonly looked for mates among humans, as they were the only other species that could perfectly breed for harpy children. They commonly enjoyed how much weaker humans were. It allowed for more control. Your parents had always warned you of your kindness. They said that you would be just like him. Just like those that were snatched.

"I can't guarantee she won't." You gave the man a sad side eye and a grimace that didn't help to ease his worries. "Harpies don't do one-night-stands or temporary relationships. If a harpy was who came after your daughter, then he'll be looking for her very soon. The higher ups would recommend that you maintain some distance and prepare for when he comes. That when he comes again, you converse in a civil manner and try to negotiate visiting times with her. But honestly," You leaned closer to the man. "If it were my daughter, I would fight to keep them away from her. Even if it meant I'd never see her again." A shrug was all you could muster, as you tried to seem calm about the whole thing. Of course it rattled you up, just like everyone else. You couldn’t show that though.

"It is your decision going forward though. But whatever you or your daughter do... do not let the harpy know of the drugs. Cause then she really will be trapped." And they will hunt you down for providing them to her. Finishing your conversation, you turned and left for your second priority of the night. This wasn't the first time you'd had a conversation like that, and you doubted it would be the last. Your kindness could only last for so long, before you could feel yourself burn out.

The commotion downstairs got louder and the noise seemed to drag more and more of the individuals spread out to the common room. The house that could've held maximum twenty people, now seemed to hold fifty, as everyone important in the small human neighborhood got together for a little meeting. These meeting's were monthly, mostly to check-in on individuals in the neighborhood and see how many people were still in the community. However, it also had a underlying goal of creating new ideas to stop the snatchings from occurring.

Crawling down the stairs slowly, you tried not to gain attention. You were just a nurse in charge of treating individuals; It wasn't your business to get mixed into politics. But apparently, that wasn’t how this night was gonna go.

"(Y/N)! I’m so glad you could come! We could really use your insight!" You sighed as you noticed two very familiar heads near the middle of the bickering crowd. It smelled of sweat and salt, and you grimaced at the bodies you passed. In the middle of the pack, you found two old friends of yours. Jisoo and Jennie. They both smiled before clapping you on the back.

"We were wondering where you were at. Though I guess duty comes first before dealing with us common folk.” There was a chuckle among the two of them. “They are about to start discussing better barricades on our doors.” Jisoo smiled at this and looked to the front of the room, where multiple men were standing. They were all handsome and young, though they all had a stern impression upon their faces. It made them look ten years older than they actually were. One of them stood out from the crowd a bit more than the others. As their eyes spread over the crowd, the smile on their face seemed to widen a bit more upon recognition of Jisoo.

"Calm down everyone! We've finally finished taking role, and I can gladly say that outside of one incidence that has occurred" Jennie made sad eye contact with you. "No one has been snatched in our community this past month." Everyone cheered at that, and you couldn't help a small smile coming to your face as well. “Now this doesn't mean we can't work hard and try be more safe at night.” A silence fell upon the crowd as they listened on in respect. “so on that note, we're meeting here to discuss better protect-" A weird sensation was felt against your right side. There was a shaking from your satchel.

Your pager had started vibrating. Oh goodness, not now! The tiny messaging box read "Human in labor. Dreary Avenue. STAT" This wasn't just something you could ignore, not if you wanted to lose your job. You cursed out loud gaining some attention from those nearby. Baekhyun, the man that had been speaking at the front, tilted his head in confusion, before understanding lit up his face at the pager you waved from the crowd. You mouthed a "I'm sorry" before you slipped out the backdoor.

The so-called "rebellion" didn't pay the bills in your home and unless you wanted your higher caste status revoked, you needed to prioritize your job. Even if it meant wanting to strangle Yoongi sometimes for his piss-poor planning.

You slipped the scrubs over your head, as you hazardously changed. There was no time to waste, as the mother to-be could be heard wailing from the other room. Exiting quickly, you ran over to where Yoongi was, in his long pristine white coat. Only two to three people could be in the room during labor, since Harpies tended to take up a lot of space, but as a human with no wingspan to have, you were able to easily slip passed him and assess the situation.

"Thank god you are here (Y/N), as I'm preparing the anesthetic, talk to the mother and see where she is at right now. " He made direct eye contact with you. "Please try to calm her down, she won't dilate as much if she's very tensed up."

You nodded and approached the sobbing women. The moment you entered her bedside, she clung to your arm with strength not commonly seen in a human. Her hands wrapped around your arms, and she left red marks upon the skin as she clawed at you in desperation. She had no wings upon her back and her smaller stature told you that she was not of the Harpy variety. This meant it was a Harpy-Human Pregnancy.

"Oh god, it hurts so much" She wailed " I-I can't, it's too much-"

"You CAN! Don't give up yet." You yelled out, as you grabbed hold of both of her hands and held them in your own. She sobbed harder. "You just need to hold on a little longer. I'm going to check how dilated you are right now, is that alright?” Her olive eyes locked on yours. Direct eye contact was pertinent with the patients, especially in a situation where they didn't feel safe.

"Yes, just please help me end this". She cried more as her grip on your hands loosened.

"I will do my best ma'am."

You passed shoulders with Yoongi as he went to go administer the local anaesthetic, and you went to go measure her cervix. She was only dilated seven centimeters, which wasn't good considering harpy infants required mothers to be twelve centimeters dilated, unlike human infants which required ten centimeters. You made eye contact and shook your head at yoongi to signal that she wasn't quite ready yet. He looked disappointed, but the look of determination on his face never disappeared.

This wasn't an easy job, but it was one that you had done numerous times. You and Dr. Min were a phenomenal duo. He was the doctor that handled all the harpy side of things, and you were the human nurse that assisted with the pregnant mothers. Human mothers with harpy children were more comfortable around a human provider, and harpies were willing to do whatever it took to make their spouses comfortable with their pregnancies. It also tended to be the only time that mated human were allowed in public, since human providers couldn't fly up to the nests.

You had been working under Yoongi for about two years now. As a doctor, he allowed you to work under him and practice medicine like you had dreamed about since you were a little girl. You were his private nurse, and worked with no other doctors. Your career was not common among humans, as harpy's were usually more educated and humans were not allowed to have specialized careers.

The world was dangerous for a little human. You couldn't ever remember a time when harpy's were not in charge and you had always grown up among the caste system. There was an order to everything and those who defied it usually disappeared. First class humans were those mated to harpy's. Second class humans were those deemed important by the government and not easily replaceable (AKA your status). Finally, third class humans were common individuals working a normal nine to five job. Third class humans always had to expect the worst. They barely paid enough to live and we’re always in danger of being snatched. Those of the second class, while not paid much more, had the opportunity to live their lives without worry of being snatched. The only way to mate a second class human, was to make an appeal to the government. However, the chances of that were rare and commonly Harpy's were impatient creatures that focused on the lower castes first, as to save themselves the trouble.

The lady in front of you yells out once again in pain, and you snapped out of your mind wandering. Contractions were a nightmare for pregnant mothers to deal with and it was your job to help soothe them.

"Ma'am can you take another deep breath for me?" You heard an audible gasp above you. "Okay, now hold that for seven seconds. One, two, three..." You helped her with her breathing excercises and as you went to check her progress again, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"She's ready Dr. Min!" He looked over at you as if in thankfulness and proceeded to whisper quietly to the lady. Yoongi and you switched positions, as this was the moment a human nurse was most needed for comfort with the mother, as compared to the medical side of things.

The way he jumped into action said enough about his experience. His broad shoulders and the way he looked at the mother, told her enough that his presence was the one dominating the room, and that this operation was gonna be a success. You trusted Yoongi to see this through.

After a long agonizing wait, a babies cry soothed everyone in that room.

You were happy that things had once again succeeded. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if they hadn’t. In that moment all you could feel was glee for a job well done, but Yoongi felt something different.

As Yoongi looked over to you, with sweat streaking across your forehead, and a smile on your face, he couldn't imagine a more wonderful person to have next to him in that moment.

You really were a phenomenal duo.

From a young age, you had heard about the possibility of being taken as a mate. Your parents were always worried about the “what ifs” in the world. They wanted to be ahead of anything that could occur in their lives. In control. So, the first time you heard about an arrangement with a harpy suitor, you were seventeen. It was merely brought into casual conversation and your parents saw it as "well if it's eventually going to happen, why don't we choose the young bird."

Those conversations always annoyed you. Whereas other families were scared of their children being whisked away in the middle of the night, your parents saw it as an opportunity. As long as they could control where you went and still had access in your life, it didn't matter if you spent the rest of your life being a wife and mother to harpy children. Or at least that's the way they saw it. The idea was to keep your head down and smile pretty. But you always wanted more than that. You wanted to do something with your life and be a unique individual that changed everyone for the better.

But you quickly learned that was not the fate for humans. As you graduated from high school and moved forward, you found it difficult to find jobs. Instead of encouraging you, your advisors recommended mate matching as a new and “joyous opportunity”. Almost as if that was your only opportunity for happiness. It hurt a lot to be diminished that way. You knew you were better than that, someone just had to see it.

This was when Yoongi stepped into your life.

He became your... mentor.

Your first interaction had been at a local cafe, whose business was barely hanging on by a thread. A young gentlemen harpy had been choking and you performed CPR just like you had seen in your books. Both hands compressing on the chest, movement after movement. It was natural. It was thrilling…. and Yoongi watched from a distance.

It was exhilarating to watch from his perspective; as a young human girl was able to jump in so fast to save a Harpy's life. He thought that the act of courage was valuable, especially amidst rough harpy-human relations. Your skills were deemed useful. So, that afternoon he offered you a new opportunity, not commonly offered to the lower species. The chance to be a nurse and learn the trade under a esteemed physician by the name of "Dr. Min". Since humans were were deemed the less intelligent species, you jumped on the opportunities you could get, and gleefully agreed. From there you gained certification, and officially became Yoongi's personal nurse.

It was the opportunity you had been looking for, and allowed you to escape the pressure society had put upon you to be a breeder for future harpy children.

Yoongi and you matched so well that it was like Yin and Yang. Whereas you were a bubbly excitable personality, he tended to more calm and cool. Your personalities allowed for easy meshing, and traveling to treat harpy and human mothers became common place. There was no one more loyal than the physician who trained you and led you to a higher purpose. However, that purpose had its drawbacks. There were many days, where the strain of the mothers emotions took a toll on you, and it took a lot in you to continue. The medicine you performed was not always at the consent of the mother, but at the consent of their harpy mate, as the law specified. The job allowed you to practice medicine, but you had to watch as human ladies were put into the role of motherhood against their will. You never be embarrassed comfortable with that aspect. As human girls were turned into adult mothers against their will, you had to stand to the side and be the smiling nurse to ease their worries. Worries that we’re valid, and led you to where you were now… as a part of the underground rebellion.

The laws were extremely discriminatory, and the main basis for the humans rebellion in the first place. For your rebellion. It was common knowledge that harpies could not breed with one another. They were too instinctual and possessive to be able to submit to another harpy. So, Instead they took humans to become their mates (often against their will). Contraceptives became illegal and any human was up for grabs, whether male or female. As long as the human was of rank three, they were legally allowed to be flown away to a nest on the outskirts of the city. These nests reigned high in the clouds with no accessible human entrance. Only windows large enough for the wings of harpies. It was a world where humans were meant to be protected and bred, and you were the unfortunate human that had to watch others get hurt from a distance.

By taking you on as his assistant, Yoongi spared you from that life and you became a class two human. There was always a looming threat though, as everyday that you saw human females suffering in labor, you would then go out of your way to distribute contraceptives and allow women the lives they deserve.

There was only one problem.

One problem that always was blaring at you in the face.

One problem that always told you to turn tale and run.

It occurs to you even now, with how the young harpy looks at you in that mesmerizing way. With a young barely minute old infant in his arms, smiling up to that mother. As he grins at you and congratulates the harpy father with a slap on the back.

You realize something you've known for a while.

That Yoongi can never know what you have been doing, or the man that saved you could also be the man that dooms you.

"Wonderful job (Y/N), I couldn't have done it without you." Yoongi grinned at you as he spoke, giving you a large hug. His grip was strong, and there was an odd smell of pine trees that radiated from his feathers. His wings furrowed out with glee every time he spoke, and the moonlight hit them in just the right way to give them a shimmer at the ends. They really were beautiful.

"Don't put yourself down too much sir, it was a combined effort!" He rolled his eyes at your comment.

"Don't be modest (Y/N)! I could never ask for a better partner!" He scratched his chin in thought. His wings seemed to twitch as he looked back over at you. "Hey! How about this! I have a bottle of good wine back at my place.” He paused before straightening his white coat. “Why don't we have a few drinks and watch a movie? You deserve it after all your hard work."

His smile was always so convincing. And you couldn't remember the last time you had sat down and watched a movie. Most human homes didn't have television, and while yours did, you didn't have the time with your busy schedule. But there was one problem...

"I'm already way passed the curfew Yoongi! You won't get in trouble, but I don't have a probable reason to be out now that I've finished the labor. And if I come back tipsy? They'll surely yank my class status!"

Yoongi didn't seem to be bothered by that fact suprisingly. Or unsuprisingly? It was very difficult to read that man. He always had that look upon him that he honestly couldn’t give a shit. But he seemed to be so deep thought upon what you said and as it came to him, his head snapped to you and he yelled out.

"I've got it! You can just stay at my place!” He snapped his fingers. “That way, you won't get in trouble for curfew, but we can still have a relaxing night after all work we've done." He seemed very proud of his solution, but there was one thing that made you uncomfortable.

"In an unmated Harpy's home? Unless there's some secret lover I don't know about, I don't know if your neighbors would necessarily get the right impression about me." Yoongi noticed you seemed to shrink in on yourself at the comment. Almost as if you didn't like the impression it might give. It wasn’t meant to come off offensive, but something you said seemed to have ruffled the young birds feathers.

"Nobody would care and besides-“ he clicked his tongue. “I can just explain what's going on. Plus, even though I'm not mated, that doesn't mean I'm not respectful and everyone around me knows that."

Does Yoongi know that?

With the amount of subtle innuendos this man throws at you, you really should stop letting him convince you to do things, but alas he is a very charming harpy and a dear friend, so you let him do what he must.

"Fine I guess we can go...Though I'm choosing the movie!"you stuck your tongue out jokingly. Yoongi pouted and swung his feathers to hit your arm, before laughing and muttering a harpy joke you couldn’t quite get. Guess someone was salty they didn't call dibs first!

Yoongi ran over to grab your hand and dragged you to his car in a matter of seconds. As you settled into the plush leather seats, you took notice of your environment. Black leather, sleek interior, and a certain someone’s hand that hadn’t seemed to let go quite yet. Your face was starting to get hot, at the amusement of the birdbrain. As Yoongi buckled himself in, you took on the task of slowly inching out of his grasp. His eyebrows shrunk down a little and a frown situated upon his face, but he quickly schooled his expressions and focused back on the road. He shouldn't overthink things.

The drive was nice and calming. With Yoongi bursting into rap every few minutes, as the pickiness of his driving tunes became apparent. Yoongi was a very odd harpy, that was stoic and cold in one moment, kind in the next, and downright goofy in another. It was clear he wasn't just any harpy and he made that distinction extremely apparent in your friendship. Though it did give you whiplash when you first started interacting.

His fingers tapped against the wheel to the beat and his wings fluttered slightly behind him. Little swishes of air hit you from each mini flap he would give out. After a while, you started singing too, though you always left the rapping to Yoongi. He really did sound like a bird, with a pair of vocals to match. Twittering and Tweeting.

As you arrived at Yoongi's place, it seemed fairly quant; a small two bedroom, one bath, apartment in a better neighborhood. It could be assumed that Yoongi made enough money to afford a larger place, but he just didn't seem the type to live in a large place by himself. It was minimalistic and said enough about his personality. As you spread out on the white couch and Yoongi went to prepare the guest bedroom, you scrolled through the television options.

"You got anything you are interested in?" There was a faint hum from the other room.

"I have a few movies already on my watchlist, but you are free to choose anything else if you'd like." Your eyes seemed to widen a bit as you scrolled through his supposed “favorites”. With the amount of Harpy-Human Romance movies (geez I guess he has a favorite genre) on Yoongi's watchlist, you decided to look for something different. It wouldn't set the right impression to watch a romance movie with your boss. You decided on a simple comedy.

It did make you slightly curious as to whether Yoongi had a secret mate though. He didn’t seem the type to be watching a lot of romance movies, and yet, the impression was made quite clearly. He had been pretty forthcoming in the past that he was waiting for the right "songbird" as he liked to call them. Harpy's did mate young though and Yoongi was getting in his mid-twenties. It would make sense that he was lonely. You guessed you would just have to check up on your friend to make sure he was alright. You just prayed you wouldn't have to medically treat whoever his mate would be.

As he came to sit down next to you, with a bowl of guacamole and chips, he profusely apologized for continously bumping into you. He had a much larger wingspan than other harpies and constantly brushed his wingtips against your thighs and feet. It was a testament to his strength and virility in society, but still got in the way most of the time. Eventually settling down, he quickly explained that the guest bedroom was prepared and you could go to bed anytime you wished. You appreciated the sentiment and thanked the young bird.

The movie wasn't bad, however, a bit too corny for Yoongi's taste. That was apparent by the little side eye he kept giving you at the horrible dad jokes. You seemed to be enjoying it a lot though and so he couldn't complain much. It was all in good fun, even if he did wanna smother you every time you made a “chicken crossing the road” joke. However, there was clearly something that was bothering you. Yoongi's black shadowy wings seemed to have spread out more and more, and the tips of feathers brushed lightly against your shoulder. You doubted it was intentional, as your boss always made it clear that your comfort was a priority, but you still found yourself scooching farther into the side of the couch.

Harpies never seemed to understand personal space. The room also seemed to be heating up the more that Yoongi extended his width. He always seemed to rub up against the wrong spots as well, leaving a slight blush to be found on your cheeks.

However, by the time the credits were rolling, you found yourself starting to doze.

"Hey (Y/N)?" You hummed.

Eyes just felt so heavy and the hand holding your head kept slipping.

"A-are you with anyone right now?" There was a slight stutter to his speech and the question confused you for a second. Your brows furrowed. What did he mean by that? It did awaken you though and you turned your body to the side Yoongi rested on.

"What do you mean?" He coughed and grabbed his glass of water, as a faint rosey sheen came to his cheeks. The position you had placed yourself in, managed to push your cleavage against the couch just slightly. Though it was clear you hadn’t noticed anything.

Odd.

"Nothing! I just know many ladies at your age are dating and stuff and...." There was a pause as he seemed to be thinking over his words. "I want to make sure that my best nurse is still gonna be by my side assisting with patients. That's all….” There was a forlorn look on his face as he finished. He was deep in thought about something. What it was, you had no idea. But the way his feathers shrunk a bit and seemed to curl around him, gave the impression that it was important to him.

"Nothing could keep me away from this work for too long!" You giggled. "No one's really caught my eye and I mostly just want to help as I can right now. That's all l really care about right now." You wrapped your arms around your legs and smiled into your thighs. The expression of happiness nestled slightly into your cheeks. A slight optimism that no one could quite pull off the same.

A silence settled over the two of you. As Yoongi was deep in thought and you seemed to be dozing off. The tiredness was becoming too much and the time on the wall was not helping anything. Slowly ascending from your nook on the couch, you yawned and stretched your arms.

"I *yawn* should be getting to bed, wake me if-"

"(Y/N), wait I-" Yoongi cut you off halfway through. His left wing reached out to your shoulder and brushed it as you were raising your arms. His hand was grasping the air as if there was more he wanted to say... But he stopped halfway. A look of solemn fell over his face before being replaced with that same old smile.

"Nevermind." He shook his head. "Get some sleep, little dove."

You nodded, not quite processing. The nickname hadn’t quite clicked in your brain yet. Walking over to the guest bedroom, the blankets quickly enveloped your fragile body. Never in your life had you gotten as good of sleep as your did enveloped in the fancy sheets. But just like every night before this one, one thought ran through your head.

I hope this never changes.

Three loud knocks awakened you.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP

It took you a few seconds to realize that it was not your apartment you had woken up in. The memory's from the previous night slowly flooded in, as you changed into some extra clothes. Sweatpants and a shirt was all that was needed on a Saturday. You could distinctly hear chattering through the walls. One of the voices was distinctly Yoongi. He had a certain husky undertone to the way he spoke, and was able to convey himself in very few words. The other voice was not this way, it was more boisterous and joyful, albeit with a darker tone. More playful, yet foreboding.

As you peaked your head around the hallway, you finally noticed the second man. Or harpy as you should say. The bird-man was slightly taller than Yoongi, albeit no less appealingly. Dark nightshade hair overran one side of his face, and he had a certain polish to him not seen among the common folk. Dressed in a suit from head to toe, the wings that spread from his back were not petite in the slightest, and unlike Yoongi's midnight black wings you were used to, this man's had a slight navy blue sheen to them, that sparkled in the morning light. He was an enigma in the flesh.

The stranger's dark brown eyes flashed over to you, the moment you entered the room. Something about the way he looked you up and down, didn't settle with you right. A smug little smirk found it's way to his lips.

"Why Yoongi ~” His voice gave off a little purr, and his Adam’s apple bobbed at the good look he was getting of you. “I didn't know you had gotten yourself a little human." There was a joking gasp from the man. "Though, I do wonder why they are in your apartment of all places and not elsewhere." A side eye was given. There was something you were missing here, that was clear. Yoongi merely rolled his eyes, before admonishing the man.

"Knock it off Tae" He rubbed the space between his eyebrows in exacerbation. The crow man knew how to rub a sore spot deep. "Her name is (Y/N), I've talked about her before. She's the nurse that assists me at work."

Realization flashed upon the man's face. Eyebrows raising in recognition. Instead of sizing you up anymore, he looked at you with a newfound appreciation. Sweeping his large feathered appendages back, and taking himself to a bow, he quickly took hold of your right hand and placed a gentle kiss upon the back. Red immediately ran across your complexion.

"It's a pleasure to finally put a name to the face, little birdie~. I'm Taehyung, chief of the government Harpy-Human Relations division." The man had the nerve to wink at you. And to put the Cherry on top, He was a fucking bird politician… “Though I must say, I'm disappointed we weren't introduced earlier, what with Yoongi and I being very close." There was another eyeroll from your boss.

"I guess that is the way of the world-" The man shrugged. Then his focus went back to Yoongi. Something seemed to change in his voice.

"You'll be letting me know what you find, yes?" Yoongi seemed to snap out of his annoyance and a serious look fell upon his face. By the way the man was dressed and Yoongi's countenance, this wasn't merely a friends getaway, but for business instead.

"Yes. I'll see what I can do."

Taehyung flapped his wings slightly before rushing out the door. He seemed to be in a hurry, and Yoongi couldn't be happier about it. Anything Taehyung was interested in was not a good sign.

This was your cue to leave as well and as you went to grab your stuff from the other room, something caught the corner of your eye.

Yoongi was placing a packet of pills in his work satchel.

"So I was telling her, if you want to find someone better there are plenty of fish in the sea-"

It was always hard to stay awake and interested when Jennie prattled on about an ex-girlfriend of hers. You honestly could not care less, but you had agreed to go to dinner with her if it made her happy. She had been stressed recently over her work, since more and more human workers were getting laid off and the factories were obscenely harsh on the body. One of these days she would be next. The small joint you two were located in was nothing special, with just basic burgers, shiny red booths and take-out counters. The dingy lights above gave barely visible light, but what was most important was that it was cheap and affordable. It was also rare to see any feathered individuals in this area. The only time you had ever seen any of the bird-brains nearby had been when Yoongi picked you up a few weeks ago in his car.

"Hey, are you even listening?!"

Groaning, you laid your head on your arms in exacerbation. You gave her a mischeivious grin. "Jennie, I don't wanna hear about your exes-" Exchanging a side look you continued "I wanna hear about the little date you went on last weekend."

Cheery giggles fell from Jennie's lips as she couldn't help but show her enthusiasm. "Oh this lady was heavenly. She had this way to just pull you in a conversation. And they even bought me flowers! In this economy?! She even was at the meeting the other night-"

And Jennie prattled on. She was always the more talkative of the two of you. One of the women from your underground meetings had taken an interest in Jennie, and since she hadn't had a healthy relationship in a while, you let her gossip about it as much as she liked. It also made it easier on yourself, because it allowed you to not always have to talk about yourself. She chattered more, as you moved the green beans on your place to create little pictures. Anything to cure your boredom.

As the two of you sat chatting, and your milkshake decreased in volume, you realized that it was starting to get dark out. The stars in the night sky sparkled above, and the lights on the streets were the only thing illuminating the outside. The shop was starting to close up for the night, as the waiters grabbed old dishes and flipped the neon 'open' sign to 'closed'. You scrapped at the old paint on the table with you nail as Jennie was asking the waiter for the bill. Your head had been laying on the table, only to slowly raise as something outside caught your attention.

There was a harpy man with an umbrella across the street.

Harpy weren't supposed to be in these areas. Not that the streets were segregated, but usually they made better money than to be in the poorer parts and the crime in the human neighborhoods ran rampant in comparison. No harpies felt the need to be here. It was the only bit of sanctuary that humans felt in these areas. This specific harpy seemed to be eyeing the little shop you were in.

The earrings he wore clinked against one another as he tilted his head upon eye contact with you. You couldn't recognize the harpy in the dark, but the way he was looking at your booth made you very uncomfortable.

"Hey Jennie? There's a harpy staring at us, try not to be too obvio-“ and of course Jennie fastly whipped her head behind her. Not so subtle at all. Recognition flashed upon her face and all colored seemed to drain from her.

"T-That's my boss." Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"The factory manager?"

Jennie nodded. She seemed just as confused as you were. But, by the way her sleeved arm seemed to rub against her side and she seemed to be fiddling with the paper straw. This was not the first time she had seen the winged fellow outside of work. Her shoes scraped against the ground as she thought over her next words.

"I-I don't know what that's about but-" She bit her lip. "We should probably be getting home. I-It i-is late."

That didn't seem to asuade your opinion that whatever was happening was extremely shifty. You grabbed her elbow as she went to stand up.

"Jennie, if you don't feel comfortable going, we can always ask the staff to stay longer?" You were imploring her to stay. Something didn't feel right. But she merely shook her head.

"No, it's ok! I-I don't wanna bother anyone right now." Her bangs covered her eyes for a split second, as you went to grab her right hand.

Walking out hand in hand, you both tried to ignore the bird across the street. But as the two of you walked ten feet, he walked ten feet in the same direction. Footsteps could be heard behind you, as the man crossed the street.

He was now on the same side of the road.

It was eerily quiet out. Even the faint hum of electricity was barely noticeable on these backwater streets. No stray animals were out, which seemed unusual. Jennie held closer to your side the farther you walked. Your friends eyes pinched tightly shut as she seemed to be whispering affirmations to herself.

"I am beautiful. I am strong. I am - "

"Angel?" The male harpy called out from behind us.

Jennie held tighter.

"Please don't run from me. I told you this was gonna happen-." You turned around to look this man in the face. He seemed to have a small smile and his cerulean eyes had a small content crinkle along the corner lashes. "It really isn't all that scary."

Jennie let go of your arm. Though her fingers shook, and her legs seemed to barely be holding her.

"I-I" She stuttered and took a moment to ground herself. "I don't want this. P-Please leave me alone."

His smile didn't waver. Instead he took careful inches towards the two of you. His wings dragged against the ground, though made no noise in the dark city air. You went to grab Jennie's hand, but she seemed scared to reach for you. Quickly rushing to bring her hands around her body.

"I'm not going anywhere Angel." In that same moment it occurred to you that something was deeply wrong.

He ran for Jennie... and in the moment, you did the same.

You didn't care if she was scared of you getting hurt, you were not going to allow your friend to be next.

Your reached out your hand. But you were too late.

You. Were. Too. Late.

In an instant the harpy wrapped his large wings around her, arms grappling for leverage on her body, and a gust of wind swept you into the nearby alley. You went flying backwards, as the strength of a harpy's wings were no match for a human. Your claws grappled at the ground as you went skittering. Dirt and debris got caked underneath, and scrapes littered your clothes. But you didn’t care. The pain hurt more on the inside than the outside. Brush light feathers tickled Jennie's face, and all you saw of her were tears, before in an inhuman speed, wings pummeled the ground and the two went soaring. Wind whipped around the two, and all you saw was a speck disappearing into the night air.

The noise of the city did very little to quiet your wails, and there were no nearby goers to comfort you in your despair. The ground still had excess feathers from the harpy's quick takeoff and the pattern would have been mesmerizing, a swirl of bird beauty, had your friend not just been kidnapped.

She had been snatched.

You let out another blood-curdling scream as two arms wrapped around your back. As if the night could not get worse. Hands wrapped around your stomach and breasts to get a strong grip upon your small countenance. Fighting and clawing did not matter, as whoever was grabbing on, would not let you go and seemed to hold the strength of ten men.

"Hey! Careful! It's just me!!" The man screamed out as you went in to bite their jugular, but hesitated.

It was that man from earlier.

Taehyung.

"I saw what occurred and wanted to make sure you were all right. It's always-“ There was a pause. "messy when humans get involved with a harpy's snatch." Letting go of your stomach, he slowly lifted himself to stand. His hands slicked through his hair, and he held a concerned look. You still laid on the dirty ground, scratches creating solid lines upon your legs. There wasn't any energy left in you to stand. This seemed to be apparent to the young gentlebird, as he went to grab your miniscule body in his arms. One arm around your knees and another around your back. Bridal-style. You would almost laugh, if you had it in you in this moment.

With you tightly secured in his embrace, Taehyung started walking out of the alley. The warmth from him was a calming sensation, albeit not wanted from you in that moment. However, he seemed to be walking with a mission in his mind.

"W-where are we going?" You wanted to make sure the harpy holding you didn't have the same idea as the one before. He looked down at you with a frown.

"My office. It's a few blocks over. I want to make sure you are alright before I let you go home." He looked down at you and squeezed your body slightly as he held you closer. The tight hold on your body did nothing to help ease your sensation of panic, but it soothed the harpy, as holding you close meant you were safe. "It's dangerous for you to be out right now."

You didn't feel the need to fight him.

Note:

Hope you all like part 1!!! I will be coming out with part 2 soon. This has not been edited. Any questions or comments is greatly appreciated.

#yandere bts #yandere kpop #yandere x reader #yandere taehyung #yandere yoongi #polyamarous #poly ot7 #bts fanfic #bts taehyung #bts yandere #yandere ot7 #bts yoongi #bts smut #taehyung #min yoongi #yandere

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azrielhours · 2 years

Text

Soul Song

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Synopsis: Sleeping beauty retelling with Az.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who are you, you tried to ask the hazel-eyed stranger. There he was, just as he was every night, staring at you in wonder. His piercing gaze would soften whenever he looked at you like he recognized you. Sometimes, you caught glimpses of the ink on his golden skin. Most times, his edges were blurred by wafting shadows, but you were never afraid.

Every time you saw him, something in your chest would sing. And those shadows would float up around him and sing back. A whistling melody.

Last night was no different. You found your beautiful stranger. Who are you? You reached out to him. He opened his arms and gathered you into them, and you swore you could feel something humming in his chest, just as you felt it in yours –

That was how you awoke, a distinct feeling of emptiness making you curl onto your side to ease the ache. You’ve been having recurring dreams plagued with that devastating stranger; each time, you’d awaken in a distracted haze. It was midafternoon when you found yourself in the lush forest behind the house. Lucien had left to do Night Court business hours ago, but you were perfectly content wandering around the forest, trying to make sense of your dreams, perhaps clear the haze from your mind.

Glancing around the clearing for the second time, you frowned, trying to find the source of the melody you heard faintly in the distance. Wood sprites, you told yourself. But you’ve never known a wood sprite to sing in a baritone key. You shook your head. Forests make odd noises all the time. When you heard that entrancing tune again, this time you hummed along. It halted at your synchronizing, then picked up again as if encouraged by your duetting.

That whistling melody continued, and you answered it with your hum. Behind an oak, you spotted something moving. You carefully pursued it, still answering the music with your own. Once you reached the oak, you peered around it, expecting to find your wood sprite, perhaps a will-o-the-whisp. Instead, you were met with smoke. Your eyes narrowed. That’s not smoke, you realized. It looked more like –

The music had halted. You hadn’t heard it answer your hum. Trying to stay aware of your surroundings, you whirled around.

You jumped, gasping in shock to find a male standing right in front of you. “Oh,” you breathed. You stumbled back, losing your balance as you tripped on a root. The male lunged forward, grasping your hands in his. He gently pulled you back to your feet. Once you regained your balance, he stepped back. All you could do was gape in shock. “Oh.” Those eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said calmly, reading your bewilderment. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head. It wasn’t fear compelling your reaction, it was recognition. “It’s not that – it’s that you’re –” someone I’ve seen, “you’re–” someone I know – You shook your head. Did he not recognize you? Was he supposed to recognize you? “I… have we met before?” This was impossible, and yet –

I know you, a part of you whispered.

He shook his head. “I’m not from these parts. I’m sorry.” If he was alluring in your dreams, he was even more breathtaking in life. You peered up at him from beneath your lashes. He had his hands politely folded behind his back, perhaps assuming a nonthreatening stance to make himself appear less intimidating. He truly thought you feared him.

But you weren’t afraid. That haze that’d been churning in your mind for weeks simply… dissipated. The sounds all around you were crisper, colours more vibrant. As if the forest had only come to life then. You looked around, taking the clarity all in. You brought your eyes back to his steady gaze. “Are you lost?” he asked gently.

You smiled. You didn’t blame him for thinking you some disoriented girl. “No. I live nearby,” you waved your hand vaguely around you. You realized too late how that sounded, as if ‘nearby’ entailed the woods.

“Ah.” His eyes gleamed.

You cocked your head, still shamelessly drinking him in. You copied his stance, folding your hands behind your back. That didn’t go unnoticed as he smiled in amusement. “Are you a soldier?” you asked, looking at the leathers he donned.

“Something like that.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully at his ambiguity. His smile turned mischievous.

“Who are you?”

He looked down at you warmly. “I’m Azriel.”

Azriel.

At last. You gave him a nod, holding his gaze for a beat, still amazed. He chuckled lightly at your silence. “Oh,” you said sheepishly. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated.

“Was that you singing, Azriel?”

His eyes twinkled. “It was my shadows.” You frowned in confusion. “I’m a Shadowsinger,” he added.

His shadows peered over his shoulders. To your pleasant surprise, they wafted towards you. You tentatively reached your hand out and they slithered around your wrist, resuming their quiet song. You hummed back in response. Azriel watched inquisitively.

“A Shadowsinger,” you mused. “Do you live in the forest with all the other magical creatures?”

Azriel laughed. “You’re the one that lives ‘nearby,’” he gestured vaguely around him, just as you had before.

“That’s right,” you played along. “We should be neighbours.”

He chuckled once more. “And what kind of creature might you be?” he drawled.

“Nymph.” You quipped.

“Ah,” he smiled. “That explains the singing.”

You ducked your head bashfully. “I just meant – nymphs are supposed to be wild, aren’t they?”

Azriel studied you for a beat. “They’re said to be beautiful and kind.”

Your face heated. “I didn’t mean it like that, I wasn’t trying to –”

Azriel shook his head, smiling at your fluster. “They’re also said to be fierce protectors of what they love.” His throat bobbed. “You’ve lived up to the former, I trust you’ll live up to the latter.”

You looked up at him in time to catch fondness light his eyes. “Do you always flirt on the job, or am I just lucky?”

Azriel chuckled once again. “You’re the one that began this encounter by falling for me.”

You gaped at him, feigning offence. “You snuck up on me.”

“I caught you, didn’t I?” he winked, making you laugh.

“Not your first damsel in distress situation, I take it?”

“That’s actually my official job title,” he retorted.

“You’re funny,” you said sarcastically, though he was. “You said you’re not from around here.”

He nodded, humour dispersing. “I received a report about a threat in this area. I was just doing some scouting.” Your brows rose in slight alarm. “Don’t be afraid,” he added.

“I’m not afraid,” you said honestly.

He looked you over, eyes twinkling. “I’m glad to hear that. I trust your nymph instincts will protect you.”

You laughed. “I’m not actually a nymph.”

He smiled affectionately. “I know.” Mother above. You swallowed under the weight of his soft gaze. “Would you like me to walk you home, Y/N?”

You nodded bashfully at the invitation. He offered his arm to you, but you reached instead for his hand. He watched as you peered at him, testing the waters. He squeezed your hand in reassurance. Azriel let you lead the way to your cottage, one you shared with Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa. You fell into a comfortable silence, and he didn’t seem to mind. When the house came into view in the distance, you stopped walking but kept holding his hand. He turned to face you. “When can I see you again?”

You felt your cheeks heat. You took him in once more, this stranger that chased the haziness away. “Tonight,” you said shyly. “Meet me here.”

“Tonight it is,” he affirmed. You regretfully slid your hand out of his hold. He took a step back, giving you that charming smile once again. You watched as his shadows began enveloping him, blurring his edges as he began to winnow away. Before he was fully encapsulated, his head suddenly snapped to yours, alarm written all over his face. You saw his shadows frantically churn around his head, whispering in his ear. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, but before you could, he winnowed away. You frowned in confusion. You’ll have to wait til tonight, it seemed.

You walked the remaining few paces to your house, thinking about how you’d tell your friends that a handsome soldier would be dining with you tonight. Once you entered the threshold of the cottage, you halted. There were signs of forced entry. Your friends were nowhere to be found. You thought back to Azriel’s words about a threat lurking in these parts. You went to exit the cottage, but upon turning, you found a pair of onyx eyes taking you in. “Well, well,” a white-haired male drawled. “I came here to fetch my firebird, but it seems I get to catch another beauty instead.”

Azriel landed in the House of Wind. His shadows hadn’t stopped their relentless whispers. Mate Mate Mate, they kept singing. The beauty in the woods was his mate. And he was to meet you again tonight. He’d winnowed away before he outright told you.

“There you are,” he heard Cassian. “Did you find anything?”

Azriel shook his head. He’d scouted the forest for a few hours, but there was no sign of Lucien’s reported threat. “Are there any developments?” he forced himself to ask calmly despite his racing mind. Mate Mate Mate.

Cassian nodded. “Yes. Lucien received word from Jurian that they spotted Koschei himself in the area, said he was there to claim Vassa.” Azriel froze. Koschei. Cassian noted Azriel’s reaction. “What’s wrong?”

“I left her there,” Azriel said. Panic seized him.

“Who?” Cassian asked. My mate, Azriel wanted to say, but there was no time to explain. Cassian understood the urgency, nodding at Azriel. “Let’s go,” he said to Azriel, clasping his forearm and allowing them to winnow back.

Upon returning to the cottage, Azriel and Cassian entered. Azriel tried to stay calm despite the signs of struggle. He and Cassian searched the house.

“What’s the verdict?”

Azriel turned to find Rhys. Cassian must have spoken mind-to-mind with him. He’d arrived with Lucien, who looked as alarmed as Azriel felt. “Did you find her?” Lucien asked Azriel.

“Who?” Cassian asked him calmly.

“Y/N,” Lucien said.

“You know her?” Azriel asked.

“We live with her,” Lucien said. Oh God. And Azriel just let you walk right into this trap.

“Lucien,” a voice called from upstairs. The males all followed the sound, leading them to a chamber upstairs. When Azriel reached the threshold, there he found Jurian, Vassa, and –

You.

Jurian and Vassa were sitting on a bed – your bed, Azriel presumed – viewing you where you lay. You were asleep. At least that’s what Azriel told himself. Vassa looked up at the males entering the room, tears in her eyes. “It was Koschei,” she said. “He came for me. Jurian and I spotted him and left the cottage to find Y/N. She’d been out for hours. When we came back, we found her asleep on the ground.”

“Asleep?” Rhys asked carefully.

Vassa nodded. “She won’t wake up,” her voice shook. “This was a message for me. I know his style, his curses.”

Rhys went to stand near the bed. “I’m going to peer into her mind,” Rhys said calmly. Vassa nodded.

“Who are you?” you asked the king, trying to distract him, hopefully buying yourself time.

“Don’t worry about that,” he smiled. He stalked forward, prompting you to step backwards.

“What do you want from Vassa?”

“You’re quite the curious thing, aren’t you?” he drawled. A horrible smile pulled on his mouth. “Don’t be alarmed, pet. No harm will come to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He had you cornered, his smile devilish. “Smart girl,” he said. He reached for your right hand, bringing it up to his mouth. You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip was like iron. His eyes sparkled, scenting something on you. “Hmm. How interesting,” he said.

“What,” you dared ask. You prayed your friends would arrive in time.

“You have such obvious gifts bestowed upon you,” he said, a lover’s purr. “Beauty, song…” You recoiled. “Allow me to bestow one final gift, given my generous power.” You began shaking your head in vain. The male relished this. “This one will be our little secret. You seemed to have found your mate,” he whispered.

You paused your struggle. “My mate?”

He nodded in feigned sympathy. “Yes, pet. His scent is all over you,” he smirked. “Oh, what a lovely coincidence,” he boasted. “The gift of true love,” he mocked. “That is, if your mate figures it out. Too bad you won’t be able to tell him yourself.” You resumed your struggle as he easily gripped your hand, the one that previously held Azriel’s Koschei pricked it.

Despite your struggle, you felt yourself being pulled under. “Only true love’s kiss may break this curse,” he whispered as unconsciousness seized you. The last thing you recalled was the male laughing.

Rhys pulled out of your mind, having shared the memory with the rest. He looked over to Azriel, who’d gone a few shades paler in shock.

“He didn’t anticipate that we’d figure out his curse,” Rhys said.

All eyes turned to Azriel.

“You’re her mate,” Cassian said gently, awestruck. Azriel nodded absently.

Azriel stalked forward to where you lay.

“True love’s kiss, huh,” Vassa mused. She rose from the bed, Jurian following suit. Azriel took their place next to you, peering down at your face.

He vaguely registered his companions quietly ushering out of the room, giving the two of you privacy.

You listened to that haunting, whistling melody. Knowing who you’d find once you turned around, you smiled upon seeing your hazel-eyed stranger.

Except he wasn’t a stranger anymore.

I know you, you tried to tell him. There he was, just as he was every night, staring at you in wonder. You watched as his piercing gaze softened, just as it did whenever he looked at you. His edges were blurred by wafting shadows, but you were not afraid.

Azriel. I know you. That hum inside your chest sang to him, just as it always did. You reached out to him. He opened his arms and gathered you into them. Don’t go, you wanted to say to him. This was when you’d usually awaken. You clutched onto him as tightly as you could, pressing yourself into his body, and you swore you could feel that humming in his chest, the same as you felt it in yours –

Azriel leaned in and pressed his lips softly into yours. He kissed you like you were a precious, breakable thing. With your hands on his neck, you pulled him tighter into you, wanting more. The singing got louder, a light expanding from where the two of you connected, chest to chest. I know you, your very soul sang to his.

You opened your eyes.

You were laying on your bed, Azriel hovering above you, peering down at you mere inches from your face. You slowly rose with him. He’s here, you thought. But if he’s here –

“Is this a dream?”

His gaze softened. “No. This is real,” he spoke tenderly.

He waited patiently as you collected yourself. “How did you –” you gasped, everything rushing back to you. Koschei. The curse. Your mate. Azriel was your mate.

“You know,” you breathed. Azriel nodded. “You’re my mate,” you whispered apprehensively. Azriel nodded, wonder bloomed in his eyes as he nodded once more. The emotions rising within you filled your eyes with tears, but you just smiled at him. “You saved me,” you breathed.

Azriel’s eyes glinted. “Like I said,” he murmured. “The whole damsel in distress thing is my expertise.”

You laughed despite your tears. He laughed with you, watching you in awe. You rose to your knees and threw yourself onto him. He easily caught you, gathering you up in his arms, actualizing what he’s done time and time again in your dreams.

You watched in astonishment, not knowing how you’d even explain that to him. Maybe there was recognition between souls that surpassed the corporeal. Maybe it was just luck. You’d make sense of it all one day, tell him how you walked with him in your very dreams. Until then, you’d walk with him in this life.

“What?” he asked, smiling so widely at you that your troubles eddied away.

You just smiled at your mate. “Nothing.”

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson

#azriel x reader #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel/reader #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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daddyhausen · 20 days

Note

Could i request a hc with Adam Copelad using this prompt please? “[choked up] I thought I lost you.” / “[choked up] I never thought I’d see you again.”

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡「 ALWAYS BEEN YOU 」｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 AEW MASTERLIST 」 | 「 ADAM COPELAND MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 SUMMARY 」 — adam thought you perished in that car accident

「 WARNINGS 」 — friends to lovers, age gap relationship [ reader is in late 20s / early 30s ], mentions of injury, mentions of car accident

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 588

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x adam copeland

「 GENRE 」 — fluff / angst

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @bayleymania @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-viper

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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the ringing in your ears became more of an annoyance as time went on

the bleak, bleach stained ceiling of a hospital room felt colder than most

it felt empty despite the bodies of doctors and nurses as well as yourself inhabiting it

a nauseated feeling wased over you the moment you made an attempt to sit up

head spinning, still with visions of the accident,

the innitial hit where the drunk driver had clipped you, sent your car spinning off the highway

down into a ditch where you and adam laid motionless before coming to

your body felt stiff and ached, the creak of your bones accompanied by aching muscles

your leg in a cast, from foot to knee

ribs heavily bandaged, so tight that it caused your to wheeze and sputter with every breath

your eyes scanned around the room absentmindedly

meeting with the backs of sterile doctors who seemed insidtingiusable from the next

all dressed in white and the occasional hospital blue

the colour remeniscant of a mid-day sky but held none of the warmth and charm

amongst the bleakness, glancing down at your hand momontariily

a larger, more rugged one encapsulated yours

your hearing now coming to, adam’s voice calling out your name with soft yet, frantic whispers

you peer up to meet his voice, noticing his face crusted with dried blood, the blondish-grey whisps of his beard now stained pink

a small bandage obscuring five or so stitches above his left eyebrow caught your attention

“you’re hurt-” you whisper, attempting to sit up once more before he stopped you

“doll, i’m fine. you’re in worse shape right now”

his weathered eyes watered with tears

“fuck…” he muttered, smoothing down his bloodied beard, hot tears staining his cheeks

“i’m so glad you’re alright…i thought i lost you”

he got all choked up, trying to stifle his sobs from echoing around the hospital room

“you stopped breathing for a bit back there..i..fuck..” he paused for a second.

“i thought i’d never see you again”

his large, calloused palm smoothed down the stray hairs behind your head, his hands still bloodied, not having time to clean them off

his ramblings continued for a minute or so.

adam’s frantic hands found comfort in your stoic ones

“adam?” your croaky words caught him off guard.

the tremble in his hands calmed, smoothing down stray wisps of hair that clung to your sweat and blood tinted skin

tracing down the bruising that swelled around your left eye, the blotches of purple and blue so vibrant against your skin

he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, how your eyes welled with tears, not for your own circumstance per say, more so for his own injuries, despite how minuscule they were in comparison

“it’s not your fault, you know that…”

your voice still sounded hoarse and broken, weak with fatigue

“but i was the one driving, i should have seen that drunk driver…”

adam put his head in his hands, a heavy sigh parting his lips

“i care about you. hell, i fucking love you! and i hate that i’m the reason you’re here”

his hands froze for a moment, not embarrassed in the sort, just shocked sightly that those words fell from his lips

‘i always knew you did…” your voice barely spoke above a whisper, still loud enough for him to hear

“and i’ve always loved you, i just wish it didn’t take something like this for either of us to admit it”

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#{ my fics : 🤍 }#adam copeland smut #adam copeland x reader #adam copeland imagine #adam copeland #aew #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #aew imagine #aew wrestling #aew fanfiction

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Note

What if one day reader sees pin's true form? Instead of hating it, they still sees pin as a friend ❤ i crave for wholesome eldritch monster fluff

If there was one material Pin hated, it was had to be ceramics. Porcelain faced dolls were some of the most beautiful of its collection; their smooth surface giving them a proper workplace for a more human-like and stunning expression. The one they first met you in happened to be such a body, making it slightly easier for it to worm its way into your heart. The only downside to them, was that they were so easy to break.

Laying on the hardwood floor, pieces of Pin's face scattered around them. A glass eye rolled along the ground, its twin sedentary in the preserved socket of the remaining half of its face. During the fall that caused the injury, Pin thought they would have been fine, but everything changed on the final tumble; banishing its face against the final stair.

Beyond the gaping hole, Pin could feel the open on its "skin"; its real skin. It was a nice feeling. One they did not deserve. A repulsive mess that shoved itself into an attractive vessel; forcing themself into a beautiful new word, and the arms of an even more beauteous human.

"Pin?"

They sit up. The weight of whatever hide behind their face drags their head down, a black sludge spurting from the cracks and under its eye. It tries to stand as you approach; descending each step with care. They slip on the murky fluid that falls their face; tripping over their own two feet as they lose control of their body.

You don't notice them at first when you reach the floor. Through the darkness of the night, it's hard to see five feet in front of you, but you can make out a figure shifting in the shadows. You lift your head up, coming face to "face" with Pin's broken head. Peering into the pit of their face, you see nothing at the start. Unable to keep them all closed, their eyes begin to open.

Dozens; if not hundreds, of eyes disperse across the open cavity. Altering in sizes; staring into different places. The leaking ooze works out and upwards of the hole, thinning out into whisps of smoke as small tendrils squirm about. Finally deciding on one target, all of Pin's eyes look back at you; their hands quickly covering their face.

"Don't look."

The voice that comes from them is unlike anything you'd ever heard. Their normally soft and bouncy tone now grated against their vocal cords; sounding as if someone had crushed their windpipe- if they even had any of said organs.

Pin backs away. They don't know what to do. You saw. You saw its face. If it was another human, they'd just pop their head like a grape, but it was you - the one they admired. What could they do now? Even if they returned home to repair, they couldn't imagine coming back as you'd see its hideous appearance. It wished that the fall had been fatal, even if they couldn't die.

With the initial shock over, all you wanted to do was comfort your companion. You couldn’t deny that you were alarmed, but seeing Pin back themself into a corner to hide only made you want to console them. Ever a gently, you proceed towards them.

"Hey... It's alright, Pin."

"No it isn't..."

"I didn't see much."

"Liar."

You chew on your lip. "Okay, maybe I did, but do you think it changes how I feel about you?"

They remain silent. You reach out.

"I'm here for you. "

Pin wanted to believe you, they really did; but their hatred for themself was almost as strong as their love for you. An idea comes to your mind.

"Do you want me to help you cover up?"

"..." They nod.

Pin in tow, you march back upstairs. They drip good on each step; something you'd take care of in the morning. You return to your room, ripping the sheets off your bed. You twist them into a homemade bandage wrap as you turn to them. Their glass eye moves to look at you; hands still covering the rest of their face.

"May I do the honors?"

They nod again. Leaning forward, they removed their hand from their face for you to cover it. You have to stand on your toes, but you begin to wrap the cloth around their face; eyes closed for their comfort. You tie the ends together, securing it around their head. In second the sheet is dyed black, but nothing seems through.

"There! All better."

Pin finally speak again. "..Thank you."

You feel its time to address the elephant in the room. "So... you aren't just a living doll are you?"

They shake their head.

You knew relative nothing about Pin aside from their name. They never answered the obvious questions you'd have in this situation, but over time you stopped asking. You hug their waist, head cradled by their soft chest.

"That's fine. I was still your friend with you just as a giant marionette with its strings. This doesn't change a thing about how I feel for you."

Pin gradually brings their arms around you. They felt bad. They shouldn't have expected so little of you- the one that cares about them almost as much as they do you. They weren't sure if they'd ever work up the courage to show you their face again, but in that one instance it felt like it wasn't so much of a nuisance.

You smile up at them, but Pin can see the uncertainty in your expression.

"Is there something wrong, Y/n?"

"Hm? No, nothing's wrong.." You glance down at the arm around you. "I just kinda want to know what touching the real you feels like. Obviously I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with, but I'm curious."

"You don't want that. My touch stains everything and it's gross." They make a "bleh" sound; part of their playful demeanor resurfacing.

You laugh. "Now I'm even more curious."

Pin lets you go. It's the least they could do after all you've done, and you've already seen their face so there wasn't too much to hide. Plus, disregarding their self doubt, the thought of holding you with their real hands was a constant.

They search around for a pair of scissors, cutting into the plush torso of their doll body. Grabbing your hand, they guide it within the hole. Past the cotton, you feel another hand grasp yours despite both arms seemingly still in place. Another and another take hold of your small hand. They're sorta slimy, yet feel like they're covered in a dusty texture at the same time; like touching wet charcoal.

Your hand is coated in whatever their body gave off, but you don't mind; both of you happy to finally touch each other for the first time.

#Yandere doll #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #soft yandere #yandere monster #yandere fluff #monster x reader #monster lover #Pin my oc

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uncertainwallflower · 2 months

Text

ATLAS For @jilymicrofics March 2024 (because Gryffindor will win the House Cup, as we win everything). Prompts: troubled, joy. Words: 749. Trigger warnings: mild panic attack.

In Greek mythology, the Titan Atlas was responsible for bearing the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. (World History Encyclopedia)

James frowned as he looked down at Lily. Huddled by the fire, legs drawn up to her chest, chin dropped upon her knees, glazed eyes betraying her far-off thoughts.

Around them, the common room was its usual boisterous self. Laughter and chatter and the odd boom of exploding snap. Outside the world was a virgin white fleece, the castle, the grounds, the forest and mountains beyond all buried in coarse snow. But inside was warm and bright and joyous. Except for Lily.

The boys were probably already up in the dormitory, wondering when and where they'd lost him. James could already picture Peter's head poking out from the stairwell, peering around in search of him. Then he'd shout something crude in the hopes of hurrying the straggler along. James shook away the thought.

He dropped into the space beside her. "Alright, Evans?"

She started, apparently having not noticed the shift in the cushions and his presence beside her. He could feel hers. Feel the heat emanating from her as it emanated from the roaring churning. But with it was a heaviness. He could almost see it weighing on her, baring down on her neck and shoulders, forcing her to fold, to grow smaller, smaller.

She offered him a weak smile. A flimsy Trojan horse of a mask with gaping holes for eyes that let him sink into the depths of her soul and feel the cold sadness seeping through her.

He frowned further, voice lowering as he asked again: "What's up?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing."

A soft snort. "Yeah, okay." He said nothing else, hoping she would fill the void with a real answer but the silence only stretched. So, in the tenderest voice he could summon, he pushed on. "Evans, really, are you alright? You seem..." Here he made an awkward unsure motion with his hands. "Troubled."

Still she said nothing.

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Come on, you can talk to me. We're supposed to be a team, remember? How 'bout it, Head Girl?"

Reluctantly—forehead creasing as she brought her auburn brows together, lips twisting as she too twisted about—she drew a copy of the Daily Prophet from the crevice down between the couch cushion and the armrest.

MUGGLE FAMILY FOUND MURDERED IN THEIR BEDS: AURORS SUSPECT MAGICAL INVOLVEMENT.

James withered. "It's horrible." But, beyond the tragedy of the murdered family, he frowned and checked the date. The paper was two days old. "Did...did you know them?"

She shook her head, whisps of hair falling over her eyes, which swum with silky tears.

"Lily, hey, it's going to be okay. You know that, right? They'll catch whoever did this."

When she looked at him, and when he looked beyond the swell of tears, anger shone out—not sadness but anger, rage. "It's the third murder this month. And look." She snatched the newspaper back from him, tearing through the papers until she came across a small continuation printed under an advertisement for Broom Extensions: Fit the Whole Family! "Their daughter was a witch. Confirmed by the Ministry Book of Records. And they're not the only ones, I have the other articles in my dorm, I could show you, they-they're being targetted James; Muggleborns and their families are being hunted down—" she took a ragged, wobbly breath "—and killed, like-like—"

"Okay, Lily, take a breath, yeah? Breathe. You're gonna scare the first years."

She glanced around the common room, wide-eyed, noticing the lull that had come over the space as their Head Girl had closed in on hyperventilation. "I..."

"It's alright." He placed a hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth in a way he hoped was comforting. "How 'bout we go up to your dorm? You can show me those clippings, maybe talk through all these thoughts rattling around your head?"

"Er—yeah, okay." And wiping away the hot, angry tears that had spilled forth with a rough hand, Lily rose from the couch, James following closely behind her as they picked their way through the curious common room.

As they neared the girls' staircase, Peter's fated head appeared and, quickly catching sight of James, he shouted: "Oi, Potter, what's taking you so long?"

"Rack off, Pete!" was James's reply—releasing the common room of their fascination and returning them to their own conversations—and the mousy boy vanished with a shrug, while the Head Boy and Girl disappeared up the stairwell without another glance spared for the rest of the world.

AO3

#jilymicrofics #bella's microfics #jily #prompted writing #hogwarts era #the first wizarding war #james potter #lily evans #peter pettigrew #microfic #uncertainwallflower

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whispereons · 11 days

Text

Finally got some free time to check on Tumblr. You all are so sweet!

Unfortunately it still seems like I'll be gone until around mid-May. Not only does my final happen around May 8th but I'm also moving out of my current home by the end of April. (Barely got any time so I'm desperately trying to rush.)

Then I also have to finish my certification exam for a job to have over the summer as the rent in my new place is higher then the one before.

So yeah I'm guessing it'll be around mid-May when I can really begin writing as the next chapter is a heavy one.

I'm genuinely excited for it as it's the fated meeting with a certain child employer. I really want to write it well.

#peering into the whisp #about my #sagau oracle au #so much stuff

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pininghermit · 10 months

Text

Alucard with a Dhampir Reader

AN: I tried guys.

Please read part 1 before you continue with this.

Now normal people born to normal parents aren't born with sharp fangs and gleaming eyes but such was not the case for you.

You were born a dhampir to your very much human parents. In fact they were normal enough to not be familiar with the term dhampir.

Your 'peculiarities' had been ignored in the favor of living a quiet and uneventful life and you had lived such life with your parents. Working in the farm or skipping stones by the village pond.

That is until everyone around you aged. Waves of time swept everyone but you. Peer that you grew up with were long resting in their graves but you lived alone. Some years you were the blood sucking vampire while others the friendly neighborhood witch.

Your uneventful life was long and boring. Nothing to entertain your fancy except for the bite mark on your neck. You could not remember when you first started looking for the reason behind for your existence but the more you tried the harder it got to get to a reason.

It then, that you met him. You mistook him for a beggar on the first sight. There was no shortage of them by the city you had found yourself in. But he was more than a beggar.

Dreams, nightmares, or visions of past lives flooded your nights. All changed except for him. He who found you in every path of your past. He who now wanders the streets with an empty look in his eyes.

Maybe you should have resented him. Lamented for your loss of a normal life. Or grieved your tragic death in the past but you could not bring yourself to mourn for the past when you had to go find him in the present.

You searched every town, every city, every port looking for him as he had done once for you. But all you find is the whisp of his presence long gone.

Adrian his name barely escapes your lips without holding back the tears that fill your eyes at his very thought. How did he bear it? Such pain, such tragedy. He did it all without a complain and the fate had been so cruel to him.

So, when you spot him on a warm summer night your heart does not allow you to rest. You rush and settle all your past dues. You hold Adrian close. You take his trembling fingers and run them on the bite marks that adorn your neck. A mark from another life that brought you together in this life.

Your reunion is not without hurried apologies, remorseful words or guilt laden confessions. You find your beloved broken beyond what seems repairable and for a fleeting second you wonder if it another cruel joke of your fates.

Instead of the loving husband of your past lives you find a scared man. Adrian pleads you to let go. He flees your every touch and it burns your soul. "I...don't come near. I am not good...I have hurt you and I cannot-" your beloved breaks down. You barely resist the want to pull him in your arms and comfort him. To tell him that death had been nothing but a failure in keeping you both apart. Instead you kneel next to Adrian and hold on to his hands. You do not speak. Your presence is the only comfort you offer him.

Since that night you follow the one who seems to have been the only one the time has spared to you. The only one you would accept this eternity with.

"I had to die. It was bound to happen one way or another," you cup your beloved's face. "My only regret is that it came at your cost. That my fate has caused you this sorrow," next to simmering fire and under the vast skies you kiss your beloved gently.

Slowly but surely your Adrian returns to you. In the form of sweet banter or his snobbish knowledge of spices. He returns.

"My fall is yours to claim," Adrian holds your hands in his. "My rise is yours to claim." His words ring in the quiet clearing.

Flower crowns adorn both your heads. You need to ring, no altar to bind yourself to him. "My death is yours to claim, my life is yours to claim," you promise the dhampir you have met in life, death, and in-between.

#alucard #castlevania #alucard x reader #adrian tepes #mates au #Hermit has no idea what to do #bad at fluff author #and they were soulmates

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theostrophywife · 1 year

Note

Smutty request bc your writing is *chefs kiss*

Imagine working out w/ Azriel and you guys are doing your own routines, but he can't keep his eyes off you. You catch him looking a couple times, but you just kinda smile and look away. Then one thing leads to another... you know where I'm going w/ this LOL

distracted.

author's note: i am fully on board with this. warning: smut under the cut.

Twenty one.

Twenty two.

Twenty three.

Twenty—fuck. How many pushups was that again?

Azriel couldn’t seem to concentrate on his workout. Not when you were standing a few feet away with a dagger in hand, your tanned skin glistening with sweat and your dark braid cascading down your back as you scrunch your brows in concentration.

It was his idea to get up at the ass crack of dawn to train and though you pouted when your mate dragged you out of bed and grumbled all throughout the short flight up to the House of Wind, it was Azriel who came to regret the decision. He should’ve listened to your suggestion of staying in bed with a very different workout in mind, but he’d insisted on training first and playing later.

What a stupid, idiotic male he was.

Now all he could think about was the curve of your ass as you lunged forward, the bead of sweat pooling between the valley of your breasts, the flush blooming high upon your cheeks that appeared torturously identical to how you looked whilst pinned underneath him.

Gods, what he wouldn’t give to have you writhing underneath him and screaming his name.

“Something wrong, babe?” You ask with a slight smile, cocking your head at your mate. Azriel shakes his head, flustered. His shadows peer over his wings and float towards you while you shoot the shadowsinger a knowing look. “You seem distracted.”

Cold whisps of his power snake through your limbs and it was in that moment that he felt jealous of his own shadows. “Maybe I was just enjoying the view.”

Triumph thrums proudly in Azriel’s chest as you blush in response. The cheeky grin on his devastatingly handsome face made you want to jump the shadowsinger's bones. “You seem chipper for someone who had to be bribed with coffee just to leave the house.”

You shrug, raising a neatly groomed brow. “Perhaps I just needed a little physical exertion to get things going.” The satisfied smirk tugging at your lips told Azriel that you were perfectly aware of how distracted he’d been while watching you exercise. “All that stretching really loosened me up.”

Azriel stalks towards you, his steps careful and deliberate with the precision of a predator tracking its prey. You hold your breath as he sidles up to you, towering a good foot over you and enveloping you in the shadow of his wings.

“Oh yeah?” Your mate teases, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. “I think I might need help warming up. The workout I had in mind requires a partner.”

And that’s exactly how you ended up pressed up against the dark stone walls of the training pit with your leathers bunched up on the red sand while Azriel drives his cock deep inside you. Your mate just couldn’t help himself. You made him so needy. He had to have you right here, right now.

“Gods, you’re so fucking pretty.” Azriel breathes in amazement.

You giggle as he rests his head on the crook of your neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh as he leaves love bites and hickeys for everyone to see.

“I’m all sweaty and sticky.”

Your mate sucks harshly on your collarbone and smiles against your skin. “So?”

“So, I’m gross.”

Azriel rolls his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot in a way that makes your body sing as stars erupt behind your lids. “You’re beautiful, bunny. You’re always beautiful.”

The little moans and whines falling from your lips were barely concealed by the wall of shadows wreathed around you. You supposed that you should care more that any of your friends could walk in on you and catch the two of you in this compromising position, but Azriel was the only thing you could focus on.

His scarred hands cupping your ass to keep you upright, his wicked mouth latching around your nipple, his eyes—golden and full of lust burning holes into your skin while he continued fucking you.

Azriel’s low and husky laugh sends a shiver down your spine as he looks up at you. “Quiet, bunny. You wouldn’t want the rest of the House to hear how desperate I make you.”

You whimper, biting down on your lip to contain the sound. Your mate only chuckles, fingers leaving imprints on your hips as he guides you to sink further down his length. “There’s a good girl. Keep riding me just like that. Don’t you want to cum, pretty girl?”

Through the fog of lust clouding your thoughts, you barely managed to muster a nod. “Yes, daddy.”

Azriel sucks gently on your earlobe, smiling at how of much of a mess you were for him. “Come on then, baby. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.”

#brain goes brrr #really though my brain is broken after all this writing #azriel #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel smut #acotar smut #acomaf #acosf

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danses-with-dogmeat · 6 months

Text

Day 18 -- Red Lucy

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 18 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Temperature Play with Red Lucy x g/n!Six

Red Lucy is just... she's like, the coolest? The absolute coolest. Love her style, love her flair, love her... well, her colosseum isn't like the best thing ever (morals-wise lol), but she just makes up for it by being really awesome.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Temperature Play, cigarettes, cunilingus, dirty talk, overstimulation, masturbation, light masochism, light dom/sub dynamics.

Words: 1.4k

Gray smoke left her in delicate rivulets, dancing out from between her slightly parted lips as Red Lucy exhaled on a moan. Crimson hair allowed beaded sweat to drip down into her half-open eyes, blurring the dark eyeliner in thin creeks down the light creases of her face.

“Easy, hunter…” Her voice rasped, her steely eyes meeting Six’s hungry ones as the courier peered up from between her thighs without removing their mouth from her core. “Pace yourself, we have a ways to go yet on our journey tonight.”

Six only groaned into her, their open lips caressing Lucy’s heat like it was a delicacy, not only to be tasted, but savored. The redhead’s muscles clenched at a particularly harsh drag of Six’s mouth over her, as their teeth roughly scraped over that sensitive point nestled within her folds.

“Even after your fight, still you are as ravenous as one of our beasts.” She took another drag from her cigarette as her free hand went to her hunter’s head, fingers rooting themselves in their hair, attempting to draw them back from their conquest, from that same calculated savagery she’d seen earlier in the evening, this time with the aim to thrust her pleasure upon her. “Did the kill not sate you?”

Six shook their head, as intensity emanated from their glowering eyes. Bloodstains littered their skin in nebulous patches, a stark red so deep it nearly appeared black.

Despite their insistence, Red felt her partner pull away.

“Haven’t you ever heard the term ‘bloodlust?’” They asked, panting.

With that, the ex-courier was back in the fray, the threads of their hair slipping easily through her fingertips as their lips, teeth and tongue worked mercilessly in tandem, attacking with the express purpose to consume.

“Easy now, hunter.” Lucy hissed from between her teeth, just as her partner’s scraped over her lower lips to the point of pain. “You may have fought and won against my beasts. Ahh–”

Six’s growl against her nearly made the cigarette slip from between her suddenly clenching fingers, the vibrations sending shivers up throughout the whole of her body.

“But,” Red continued through gritted teeth, “I am still their master. And yours.”

Six could only moan out their agreement, seemingly drunk on the nectar pouring from their master’s core. Pleasure-fogged eyes intently stared at nothing as they mindlessly laved and lapped until they felt Red’s thighs begin to quiver against their attentions.

The Thorn’s leader attempted another drag, despite the pleasure mounting in her like wildfire, burning through her veins like so many fine specks of gunpowder were nestled in every vessel. With a violent motion, she quickly pulled the cigarette from her lips as a moan escaped, as her back arched against the sofa cushions, as the motion drove her sensitive clit heedlessly harder into her hunter’s aggressive motions.

Her exclamation only seemed to encourage them, as her hand tightened its grip in their hair, and their’s clenched more firmly, stubbornly, to her writhing hips.

Suppose you have to be stubborn to live through the trials of the Thorn. Only… didn’t expect something like that to bite me in the ass this way. Or rather, bite me in the–

“Fuck, Six, give it a rest before you drown in me.”

They all but grunted at her request, and continued without even a whisper of a hint that they would humor her.

“‘S what I thought– gaahh, shit, takes more than just one broad to satiate your bloodlust, huh?”

The smoldering ash in her cigarette was sadly wilting away, without her to aid it; all but forgotten, now that Six was rolling their mouth over her, the pressure of their siphoning lips tugging and massaging her most sensitive places. They obviously hadn’t heard her question, nor did they heed her fingers’ adamant pulling against their hair.

“E-enough, want to still try–”

With another involuntary groan, she pulled her hand from them and snapped her fingers. She felt the pleasure building, mounting quicker, more loudly, more vividly as she noted the way Six’s hand moved between their own legs, spurring their arousal onward with each rub and tug of their fingers over themself, each savoring lick over Red.

“Dammit, ya fuckin’ listening to me, hunter? I said down.”

With the searing hiss of her voice, a flick of her fingers dashed the burning ash of her neglected cigarette over her partner’s bare back. Their glistening muscles clenched as the burn scattered upon their skin, and finally, Six’s lips pulled away, giving Red her reprieve.

“Finally. Thought you were gonna snuff me out, but now…”

Red Lucy’s eyes set upon her partner, the irises following their hand’s continued movement over themself, the way their brows clenched together and goosebumps erupted over their skin.

“You… Course you do.” She shook her head as she watched them grow more flushed, as their panting breaths turned to throaty huffs that had her own arousal mounting once more. “You like it, huh?”

Their eyes flicked to her, and the tilt of their chin told her they agreed.

“You like when I do this?”

Another flick, and an intake of breath, a shudder of their body, and Red felt in control again. A half-smile dragged at one side of her ruby lips.

“Your mouth, Six. Back on me. Now.” She commanded.

Another nod of their head, this time more enthusiastic, and then they were obeying her.

“And keep your hand moving as well. I want– uuhh.”

Chills ran up her spine as they renewed their efforts, as heat took hold of them, from the outside in.

“Want to see you cum with me on your tongue.”

A moan sounded into her folds, the spill of their breath like flames licking over her lower lips. Her hips bucked against it.

“Want to see you desperate, g-gasping for me.”

Their hand moved faster over themself, and Red let her cigarette wilt between her fingers until the smoldering head of it pressed to their shoulder. Her lids grew heavy at the way they flinched away, their expression… the way those eyes rolled back, their breath caught, that they groaned into her and their hands flexed, their veins popped. It was like an aphrodisiac formulated especially for her.

She felt her clit throb, her walls clench around nothing wantonly, seeking out Six’s mouth like a reaching hand in darkness, clasping desperately for a lamp.

“Want to see you, mighty hunter who conquered my, fuck, my beasts.” Red gasped, her head falling back as she felt her body spilling over that crescendo, “Want to see you conquer me. Take me… Make me yours.”

The last bits of her request were rambled out between heavy breaths and tensed muscles, as they laved at her, drinking like a cactus from rain, their touch just as prickly as her overwhelming pleasure soon transformed to overstimulation. Her fingers clenched so suddenly, so wholly, that her cigarette finally slipped from her hold, and dashed itself against their back with a burst of red and black ash. It rolled down the line of their spine, leaping and tumbling like a wild animal as it burned a trail down their skin.

As Red opened her mouth to finally halt them, to plead for them to cease their fevered motions, Six’s mouth tore away in favor of releasing the evidence of their own pleasure. Their hand and the sensation of scattered ash upon their skin forced them over their great threshold with one final, explosive motion, and they were releasing onto the floor below.

Red Lucy watched with tired eyes as they wrung the last of their spend from their quivering body, and smoothed her limp fingers through the sweaty strands of their hair in a show of rare tenderness.

“Yours…” They managed out between breaths, “To command. Master.”

“Now that… That’s what I like to hear.” Her fingers continued their playing over them, falling now to smooth over the lines of warmed skin on their back, where she’d burned them slightly. “And this?” Her finger pressed to the worst of the little wounds. “This is what I like to see…”

She pulled away as they gasped at the pressure of her fingers, setting the digits instead to her partner’s face, grasping at the point of their chin and tilting their fatigued gaze to meet hers.

“Like to see you come undone this way…" Her lips curled into a smile as she spoke, "We’ll have to play again soon, hunter. After your next match, come and find me.”

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas npcs #fallout nv #fonv #new vegas #fnv #red lucy fonv #red lucy #courier six #fnv courier #dwd.nsfw #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #g/n!six

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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Ahhh omg hello! I've come out of my hiding to request picture number 3 for Hades!Lloyd and his flower/ new persephone. Maybe the moment she gets her first snap dragon?

“It was an attempt at bribery. We’re not keeping it.” It was a warning before you even looked at the box, before you had even questioned whether whatever was inside was worth it, however given the order from Lloyd, it had spurned you to action.

It was sitting on the corner of his desk, in some half-assed wrapped box with slits in the top, however it wasn’t the attempt at wrapping the box that garnered your attention and curiosity, it was the sudden movement of whatever was inside. It was the way the box jerked and shifted on the desk, the thing that was trapped inside wanting out of its holding cell. With the order from Lloyd to leave the bribery gift alone ignored, not that you would’ve listened in any sense, you snatched the box off the corner of the desk and tucked it under your arm.

Through the slits in the top of the box, you could determine that whatever was inside was black and scaly, with piercing gold rimmed eyes that peered up at you through the lid. You kept the box tucked under your arm, steadying the journey from his office to the upper floor and the sanctity of your bedroom. Negating his potential anger or irritation, you settled yourself on the bed with the creature, and then lifted the lid to finally look at wha Lloyd wanted to get rid of.

“Hello,” you crooned at the small little dragon in the box, its wings flapping and it’s tail curled around its leg, “you’re so cute!”

The dragon cast its eyes upon you, blinking twice as if trying to recognize if you were friend or foe, and then when it determined you were safe had started hopping across the length of the box. It’s claws dug into the cardboard, it’s tail getting caught up with its back legs, and with an angry flap of its wings, the dragon had growled cutely.

“Let me help you,” you held your hand out for the dragon, watching it crawl into your palm and circle your hand twice before it curled up to rest, “screw Lloyd, were keeping you.”

You leaned back against the headboard and relaxed with the little dragon nestled in your hand. You had turned the world out completely, with no urgency to join the rest of the castle in whatever nefarious duties they’d had. You were more focused on your adopted pet than you were anything else in this underworld reality that was yours, given to you from your bond and pairing with Lloyd. You were his Persephone to his Hades, New Persephone as the underlings called you, trapped here for six months after being tricked by the old bride.

“Petal!” His voice carried from the lower floor, booming with anger as he discovered the empty space where the dragon had once been. You could feel his annoyance radiating, just as you knew he was coming to find you and the stolen little creature that you were beginning to love.

“Ignore him, he won’t hurt you.” You cooed to the small little dragon sleeping, admiring the soft little snores and puffs as air escaping its nostrils. “He’s not as big and bad as he thinks he is.”

“Petal-“ The door opened with a bang, Lloyd coming into the bedroom with red tinged fingertips and fine whisps of steam radiating off him, a measure to contain his anger and his ability to destroy with flames.

“Toothless,” you stroked the dragon softly, raising your head as a dare for Lloyd to deny you, “and yes, I’m keeping him.”

“Fuck that Snapdragon, it’s a beast-“ Lloyd growled under his breath, heat radiating from his extremities, his anger skyrocketing although you hadn’t bat an eye in his direction.

“A Snapdragon? How cute.” you raised your hand, the dragon cracking one eye open before he yawned. “I love Snapdragons, the flowers are beautiful. I didn’t know there were little creatures-“

“Put it the fuck back, we’re not keeping it.”

“Yes we are.” You argued, blatantly taking a stance against him. “I’m keeping him-“

“Fuck, no. Give me the little beast. I’m sending it back.” Lloyd stepped toward you, his hand outstretched, and with a single bound the dragon in your hand had hopped from your hand to stand between you and him. “Fuck, the little beast imprinted on you.”

“This is my Snapdragon baby, we’re keeping it.” You jut your tongue out, almost as if to make him challenge you on this. With little choice but to give into you, simply because he was weak for you and you alone, Lloyd cursed under his breath and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.

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savage-rhi · 2 months

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Mending Shadows // Chapter 33

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Y/N’s mind was suspended in darkness.

The passage of time was an elusive concept that slipped through their soul like grains of sand in an hourglass. There was no such thing as the external world. There was no Eos, no Niflheim, no Lucis, no Ardyn--only a void that unfolded with a surreal fluidity. Memories couldn’t plant their roots in this place. Nothing flourished here, except two things: presence, and song.

Although not aware of themself, Y/N latched onto the melancholic tune that somehow wormed its way into the dark to meet them. The idea of colors slowly began to return in splotches of vibrant blues and purples and vibrated against the sound, creating hues beyond the spectrum of the waking world. Little by little, like a rock being polished by the waves of the ocean, imagination and existence blurred into an ethereal dance.

A glimmer of light broke through Y/N’s eyelids. It tugged at the fringes of their awareness. Everything was blurry, but they could detect movement. Shapes wandered around their peripheral, and so did voices. They couldn’t make out what was being said, but felt… something.

It was hard to put words to tone much less decipher the delicate touch that would occasionally glide across their face, squeezing their right hand when all ministrations were complete. The simple ritual was conducted by only what Y/N could perceive as an entity. Shortly thereafter, would the song emerge and play it’s gloomy notes. Though Y/N couldn’t comprehend the movement of time, they had a feeling the entity had done this on numerous occasions, and they felt warm at the thought that something beyond recognition regarded them.

The process repeated itself many times over. Just as Y/N would be on the precipice of awakening, they’d fall back into dark shores. Only peering through when they once again could hear the dreary song, and watch as colors tried to choreograph it's energy.

A chord struck and reverberated all through the void, and Y/N’s consciousness suddenly remembered the name of the music.

Shiva’s Lament…

Y/N felt themself once more peering out from the dark and taking a step back into the waking world. The corner of their eyes still heavy with fog, Y/N’s ears followed the poignant timbre of sound that felt both like a warm hug and a haunting cry. That’s when Y/N’s exhausted gaze fell upon Ardyn, watching as his body sway while he adjusted the bow against the strings of a violin. His fingertips delicately moved against the neck of the instrument to seamlessly connect notes that longed for each other’s company like lost lovers.

Shiva’s Lament…Y/N repeated in mind, as the memory of their debut night in the Vixen carded its fingertips against their brain. Their eyes traveled over Ardyn with awe, for his hair looked like whisps of flames against a glow of light that emitted from his body. Y/N was surprised to see him without his jacket and scarves. He was dressed so casually that it went against his nature, but it never once took away how graceful Ardyn looked from Y/N’s point of view.

Gods, he was so beautiful in the glow that words couldn’t describe it. If it were possible to move their limbs, Y/N would’ve reached out to him.

Like heartstrings being carefully tended to, Ardyn made the violin weep with such a soulful quality that Y/N could feel themself drifting back to sleep. They didn’t want to be lured back into the dark. No, they wanted to latch onto the flowing melody and let Ardyn guide them through the storm; like he had done at the wedding when they danced. Like how he carried them through Outpost 98. He was always there at that midpoint between life and death for Y/N. A personal reaper who offered some shreds of comfort before the finale. And like the grim itself coming to collect his toll, Y/N succumbed to Ardyn’s song and went back to the void.

There was nothing but dreamless sleep for what felt like ages, and Y/N awoke once more but with a sharp gasp like a newborn babe taking in air for the first time. As Y/N adjusted to the world, their labored breaths became calm until there was a steady flow. They could no longer hear their pulse rattling inside their skull, and took this moment to gather everything around them.

Niflheim…The familiar colors all throughout the room assured Y/N they were no longer in Altissa, but this wasn’t their usual sleeping quarters. The distinct smell of rich spices and musk was strong. They could feel it leeching out of the blankets that covered them. It wasn’t unpleasant by any stretch, but it added a layer of confusion to Y/N as they carefully rose up from the bed.

As the blankets bundled around Y/N's waist, they noticed the black and red coloring of the sheets. This was Ardyn's bed. This was his scent.

Y/N dryly swallowed, and noticed they weren't alone. Slouched upon a chair a few feet away, Ardyn lay motionless. His arms and legs both crossed with his head leaning against the top rail. Soft strands of breath left his mouth, and Y/N adjusted and crawled on the mattress toward him. As Y/N got a better look, they noticed how wearied he was. More of the wrinkles around Ardyn's eyes were prominent as were dark circles. He looked as if he had stayed up for several nights in a row, and hadn't a moment of reprieve. Y/N wondered if he was sick, and the idea made their skin crawl as they worriedly searched him. It was so peculiar to see signs of stress in Ardyn's features, given he was permanently stuck in his thirties.

Sighing in relief at not seeing anything else, Y/N decided not to entertain the thought any further. They tried to remember how they ended up here, but alas nothing came forth. There was not a speck of a hint, minus how delicious the red velvet cinnamon rolls tasted in the morning after leaving the beach. Y/N felt that their mind was permanently on a dead television channel, akin to the annoying tingle of compressed nerves they felt down their arms and legs.

“Gods be damned…” Y/N whispered.

Maybe after eating breakfast, everyone went back home. Maybe they had jetlag from riding the airship and needed to sleep it off. Maybe nothing nefarious happened. Maybe they had one too many drinks at the wedding and passed out. Maybe in their drunken state, they dreamt of swimming in the ocean with Ardyn. Maybe...

“We both know that’s a lie,” Y/N murmured to themself while they looked upon Ardyn’s sleeping form.

Whatever happened in Altissa, Y/N knew they had been out cold for a long time. Something had to have gone down, or Ardyn wouldn't have been here. Not like this.

Growling out of frustration, Y/N could only recollect small fragments of seeing Ardyn playing the violin. With how blank their head felt, they wondered if perhaps that too was only a dream. A fleeting thought that sounded beautiful and offered them comfort during a near death experience. With how weak they were in body, it made sense to Y/N that their brain would latch onto something like that.

Y/N suddenly noticed an object that was sitting in Ardyn’s lap. Shifting their legs so that they were dangling off the bed, Y/N curiously observed the open leather bound book. Marks from what appeared to be pencil was scattered around on the pages, creating an image Y/N couldn't decipher from this angle. Wanting to get a better look, Y/N slowly stood up and stumbled while walking toward Ardyn. Their body quaked as gravity made itself known again. Gritting their teeth, Y/N shuffled toward the chair and thanked whatever was listening that they need only take a few steps forward. With each lift of their feet, Y/N's calves felt as if they had been crushed under rocks. As they drew close, Y/N evened out their breath and gently reached for the book, being mindful not to bump Ardyn all the while.

With shaking fingertips, Y/N brought the book to their face and quietly observed. The first few pages were littered with intricate drawings of figures and faces. People Ardyn had no doubt seen around Niflheim, or maybe even somewhere from his past. The warm glow that drifted through the curtains nearby illuminated the drawings further. Free flowing gestures accentuated the little imperfections people naturally had. There was character to every face, and every limb as if Ardyn's mind was a camera that had taken several shots of people in motion. They were surprised that a hand pulled this feat, let alone that Ardyn had any artistic endeavor.

“Wow,” Y/N smiled as they whispered to themself.

Page after page was filled to the brim, and Y/N wondered if anyone knew about the Chancellor’s creative pursuits. Mid-thought, they flipped to the next page and froze. The subject jumped out at them immediately like a reflection out of time. Y/N was staring at themself. He had drawn a portrait of them.

Mouth falling open, Y/N realized there was more than just one. Their eyes drifted from sketch to sketch, and as more was revealed, Y/N felt astonishment tightly grasp their heart. Disbelief danced on the edge of reason as Y/N flipped a few more pages, revealing more of themself.

Ardyn had acquired every nuance of Y/N's persona with the stroke of a pencil. There were smiles and frowns, comedic poses, and moody postures. Moments of vulnerability that only the artist himself could've witnessed firsthand. Even among half finished doodles he had clearly given up on, their essence remained intact. All the while, the subject had been completely oblivious to how immersed the artist was as he captured quiet intensities and delicate manner.

This somehow felt more intimate than coming across the contents of one's diary, and Y/N blushed as they forced themself back to the first page.

The room suddenly felt warmer than usual as Y/N had a deeper understanding of Ardyn's observations of humans. Each sketch was a silent testimony to how he truly paid attention to all the little nuances most took for granted. It was scary how he could get into someone's head, let alone commit a wink or a grimace to memory via graphite and parchment. It also enamored Y/N, especially when they realized some of their portraits went as far back as their debut night. Disbelief and other emotions swirled inside of them, realizing these drawings captured unspoken feelings Ardyn kept hidden from the world.

Biting the inside of their lip, Y/N winced out a weak grunt. Their stomach twisted in a painful knot. Dehydration finally clawed to the surface, and Y/N carefully put the sketchbook back in Ardyn’s lap before limping away to seek something to quench their thirst.

Ardyn was lost in his own world between worlds. He didn’t register Y/N had awoken, nor was he disturbed by them tinkering with his sketchbook. Everything outside of his head wasn’t a matter of consequence. Not when he felt so weak to the point of entering a period of temporary hibernation. If Ardyn were aware, this would’ve been day three of this mini holiday he had unintentionally succumbed to. That being said, he had been granted anything but rest.

After the fiasco in Atlissa--and dealing with the political consequences of the event--Ardyn had long sought shelter amongst the whispering commentary of daemons and the poor unfortunate souls he had consumed ages ago. Their voices forged several paths before him as he combed through the past week and a half. He cut through memories of conversations, and meetings--putting them into boxes and categories he could summon at a later time.

In this dark space, Ardyn was also seeking answers to questions. Trying in vain to find a point in time where he perhaps mistook an event as insignificant. The first attack on the House of the Courts made perfect sense. The arrival of several Imperial fleets had pushed people past an already unstable edge with the betrothal to boot. Ardyn couldn’t fault the citizens of Accordo for that, for even he sympathized to a degree with their hatred toward the empire. It was easy for him to understand how the embers of men could grow into a forest fire, yet unlike a voracious flame, they didn’t get far without a clear sense of direction. However, he couldn’t let bygones be bygones with the secondary attack. Not when it was so personal that it dare felt insulting.

A fleeting glimpse of a meeting Ardyn had with investigators tip toed around his conscious. It had been evaluated that the coup had been sprung by a Lucian faction soliciting aid from Accordo’s anti-imperialist groups to achieve an ulterior goal. Of course this faction was MedZin, and Ardyn ensured that little tidbit was expunged off official documentation via bribery of monetary gain. Of course he spun a believable lie to Aldercapt and the Imperial Counsel, that this ensemble's primary objective was to cause upheaval and undermine the empires national relations. Of course Y/N and other Higher Imperials were targeted to deliver the message--and of course, Aldercapt was pissed off to no end. He spent a great deal verbally lashing out against the surviving ambassadors for not having the foresight to take better charge of security.

Ardyn managed to sate Aldercapt's tempter tantrum, and settled down the unease amongst his colleagues with diplomatic solutions. He extinguished many fires that day, yet he couldn't put one to rest and that was the truth of the situation. That day of reckoning and bloodshed had been wasted on one simple task: to ensure Y/N's capture.

A daemonic voice lulled Ardyn to another memory. While Verstael's associates checked to see if Y/N had imbued Tuti with the scourge, Ardyn had studiously interviewed her. The poor thing would live another day if she could get through her recent trauma. He thought the endeavor of a formal checkup was a pointless effort on Verstael's end, for Ardyn knew Y/N didn't have the capability of infecting humans. Not when he himself personally suppressed such an ability via influencing the hivemind--just like he had been doing to Y/N's memories. Making sure the locks had been well fortified.

Through Tuti’s ramblings, Ardyn confirmed some long held suspicions about why Y/N was specifically targeted. MedZin, as far as they knew, believed Y/N to be Adagium and thus responsible for their main research facility being compromised. It was clear as day. After all, it was Ardyn himself who left a trail of bread crumbs to Y/N's feet, ensuring the fault for the damage would befall their reputation. He had put a target on their back to wash his hands clean of the sins he committed in Lucis during that time. By all accounts, Ardyn should've been ecstatic that his former nemeses weren't seeking him out, however, he felt anything but contentment.

Y/N was supposed to be the lamb. A sacrifice to sate the sanguine tongue of Gods and bless him a boon to further his true path, and yet when it came time to reap the lamb for slaughter, Ardyn didn’t have the stomach for it. Like an impetuous child who couldn’t fathom barbaric acts, he had taken the innocent creature into his arms and ran away from responsibility, knowing full well he didn’t have the means to keep such a beast happy and healthy. His so called mercy was an act of selfishness that strayed him off the path of divine retribution. All because of one simple act of defiance. All because his heart led him astray, just as it did when he had taken the scourge into himself on behalf of the deep love he had for his people.

Ardyn saw himself back on the beach in Altissa.

Love…

Aera flashed in his head. Her smile, and her blood.

Look what that got you in the end…

I warned you long ago Lucis Caelum, thou brings plenty of pain upon amongst himself.

“The great Ifrit…what an honor to be graced by your riddles and mystery,” Ardyn’s mind bitterly spoke out into the void. While he couldn’t see him, Ardyn could sense the Inferniums spirit and how warm the atmosphere became. “I assume you’ve come to impart more vague threats?”

I take no honor in such intimidation despite thy hatred for thee.

“How considerate,” Ardyn scoffed. “Our last encounter would suggest otherwise of your intentions.”

Make no mistake, my wrath will be as swift as my flames when divine timing commences. You know of the purge within your veins unlocking me from this cage. How the scourge has grown weak to protect thee. It is not the king of light who will bring you peace, but I in the end due to mankind's tampering with nature.

The serum… Ardyn held a belief in his gut the issue with Ifrit was connected to him getting jabbed long ago, and this confirmed all suspicion. He mused to himself at the irony, and didn’t know whether or not to despair or laugh.

“Then why torture me with your very presence at this moment, shouldn’t you be saving that for your grand entrance when you take over my body?” Ardyn muttered. His eyes glanced around the endless dark, feeling out the vibrations of the hivemind and that of the god that dwelled inside of him.

Your fear has called to me.

“My fear?”

The fear of profound loss. Thou dreads this depravation above mortality.

“What are you, a shrink?” Ardyn sneered. His sarcastic quip did little to deter Ifrit’s expository as the god continued to speak through thought.

Through thee, I will seek thy own retributions toward mankind and the gods. At such time, I proclaim a hand will never lay upon the soul you miss.

Ardyn glared and averted his gaze, feeling every fiber of his being--of his soul--wanting to lash out in blind fury. The god of eternal flame certainly knew where to hit a man when he was down, that much Ardyn gave Ifrit credit for.

“Aera… my Aera is dead,” He muttered with sorrow. “No one can harm what’s gone. Not even the accursed gods can break a spirit beyond the astral realms. I took you as an entity of intelligence, not a mindless beast yet it seems I stand corrected.”

It is not the ancient oracle I speak of.

Ardyn became dead silent.

I shall grant thee this one kindness in memory of who thou once was.

“You know nothing of my feelings!”

Thy knows enough through your meddling in darkness.

“Get out of my head!” Ardyn yelled. He suddenly felt the air become humid and felt his soul crawl as if it had been doused in flammable liquid. Through sudden surprise, Ardyn could sense that Ifrit was prepared to light the match.

Enjoy domain over this god and darkness, Adagium. The end draws near, and I shall bask in the fires of my hatred for thee!

The voices of daemons began to screech, rattled by Ifrit’s intrusion. The presence of the Infernium disappeared, but the temperature of his spirit remained, and Ardyn felt overheated. Like a runaway vehicle, the sensation slammed into him and shattered like glass. It was as if he had been stranded in a desert, and there was no oasis that would grant him reprieve. He couldn’t sate the pain in his body, nor how parched his mouth had become. However, absolution lay before Ardyn in the form of a blue void that would openly swallow him whole if he chose to dip his feet into the surf.

The waves of the beach beckoned Ardyn to seek refuge. He could feel it drawing him in like how the very moon controlled the currents. Ardyn rushed into the tides just as he had done before in Altissa until he had fully submerged. Through darkness, he saw a warm glow illuminate the water around him. There were no facial features to be seen coming from this light, but he recognized this presence. He was safe here, so long as he swam forward.

Y/N…

He woke up.

Ardyn’s eyes nearly bulged as he shot upward from the chair. Panting in fright, he blinked several times. Every so often he glanced around to ensure he was fixed in reality, and not dwelling within the hivemind or elsewhere. When his body and mind no longer determined an incongruity, Ardyn rubbed his forehead and deeply sighed in relief. He felt his shoulders relax while he slouched further into the seat.

For a moment Ardyn contemplated how long he had been in the dark. The thought was short lived as he did a double take of the bed, and saw Y/N was missing. His eyes widened as the link between himself and Y/N suddenly became reestablished. Memories and sensations that weren't his suddenly hit him all at once, and Ardyn nearly shouted as he gripped the arms of the chair to stabilize himself.

For several minutes, a rush like adrenaline filled Ardyn’s body from head to toe. He was overwhelmed, beyond stimulated for what felt like eternity until it came to a screeching halt. Through Y/N’s perspective, Ardyn witnessed them falling to the floor in the kitchen. He winced as if he had experienced this for himself.

As soon as he regained control of his own point of view, Ardyn jump into action. He tossed his sketchbook to the mattress nearby and sprinted, not caring if he bumped into anyone or anything. What mattered was meeting Y/N in the middle. What mattered most was seeing them awake and most importantly, alive.

Once Ardyn ventured through the kitchen door, he came to a grinding stop. Y/N still remained on the ground several feet away, but they held up a hand for him to remain where he was. Confusion placated him as Ardyn raised a brow while catching his breath.

“You’re---”

“Awake, I know,” Y/N interrupted quietly. Their gaze fell to the ground as their body quivered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I got hungry and came here. The scourge flared a moment ago and I slipped. I guess you felt that, or you wouldn’t have come in running. ”

Ardyn took a few steps toward them. “Allow me help you back onto your feet.”

“No, no,” Y/N shook their head, their eyes finally peering up toward him as he stopped midway. There was a mutual look of solace, signifying both had missed one another to some capacity despite Y/N's reluctance.

“Let me handle this, please.”

“Y/N--”

“Ardyn, please just let me have this.”

At first Ardyn was stumped. He couldn’t understand for the life of himself why Y/N was being stubborn. Defeatedly, Ardyn studied Y/N’s features. He noted how bloodshot their eyes were. How tears stained either side of their face. The way their skin both looked rejuvenated and stricken by disease as if trapped between limbo. He felt fear creep up in the form of assumption; worried that Y/N wasn’t out of the woods yet with their coma. However, he couldn’t allow himself to dwell. Not when there was another pressing issue he was contending with: a morbid curiosity if Y/N remembered anything.

With careful eyes he quietly observed Y/N hobble to their feet, trying to resist the urge to catch them should they fall again. As soon as they stabled themself, did Ardyn speak up.

“It would seem the luster of your pride remains untarnished by your little two week respite.”

“Was that Ancient Lucian or you talking fancy?” Y/N countered with a tired yet playful scoff. They faintly smiled seeing Ardyn trying to resist grinning at the witty remark.

“I could put it into laymen’s terms for you?” Ardyn gestured.

“And ruin your fun nitpicking my head? Nah, that’s not very sportsmanlike.”

“Ah, a little cranial commentary never harmed anyone, right?” Ardyn chuckled. He let out a breath he had been holding in as repose briefly tangled him up.

"I saw your sketchbook." Y/N murmured.

"Beg your pardon?"

"I didn't know you were an artist." Y/N reiterated, offering a small smile as compensation.

"Oh," He was taken aback. The redirection having caught him off guard. "I wouldn't assign myself such a title..."

"Don't be so humble."

"Far from it," Ardyn mused. He felt his hands shake as his cheeks lightly flushed. He never expected to have been caught by anyone regarding his little hobby. His heart stammered as the recent sketches he had done of Y/N sleeping flashed in his head. Ardyn cleared his throat. "I take it you saw everything?"

"I know I shouldn't have looked, but...curiosity got the better of me." Y/N shyly shrugged.

"And?"

Y/N noted his body tensed, as if bracing himself for a scolding hit.

"You made me look prettier," Y/N began, reminiscing the few portraits that stood out to them and smiled. "Far more diplomatic than I deserve."

"And here I spent many a night wondering if I tarnished your image." Ardyn quipped sarcastically. The small smirk he wore hid most of his fright like a shield.

Y/N shook their head at him. "You can't tarnish what's already tainted."

Ardyn sighed. "Don't you find this sort of duress fatiguing?"

"When I'm around you most of the time, yeah." Y/N nodded, letting out a tired laugh as did he.

Both became quiet as they felt the scourge sync them up further. The familiarity was a breath of fresh air, and either felt a dull ache had finally been satisfied. There were no words that needed to be spoken, for both felt the same relief as the other.

“I’ve so dearly missed our little banters as of late.” Ardyn confessed quietly.

“Me too, I think.” Y/N admitted, letting Ardyn's earlier proclamations sink in as they gulped. "Two weeks, huh?"

“Well, nearly two weeks I should say you’ve been out cold.” Ardyn corrected.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been going on?”

Ardyn cautiously gazed over Y/N’s form. “I harbor no desire to inundate you. Not in this condition.”

He could see the frustration instantly come to Y/N’s face, and could sense a bottled tension Y/N had been holding onto for quite some time wanting to spill over. Reluctant to witness such a travesty unfold, Ardyn's mouth opened to speak and found himself surprised when Y/N softly interrupted him.

“At least,” Y/N paused as their bottom lip trembled. The corners of their eyes brimmed with fresh tears. “At least tell me if Tuti is alright. I know…I know I tried to hurt her.”

"She's fine," Ardyn reassured with a nod. It became clear to him that while he had been in the throes of darkness, Ardyn had failed to keep a tight leash on Y/N's fragile state of mind. A plethora of curses came and went through his body as made an attempt to soften the blow. "Everyone is just fine."

“But I’m not…” Y/N sniffled, wiping their eyes. “I'm sorry. I know the last thing you need right now is to see me crying like this.”

His right hand reached out. “Y/N--”

“It all came back to me when I started eating,” Y/N interrupted. Their voice shook as they began to regale the intrusive memories that flooded them. “I popped a grape into my mouth, and the sudden squishy noise made it come back. All the bodies. The awful stench. How their skin felt sliding down my throat...I know what I did Ardyn. I know what I've done."

"Let me stop you if only for a moment," Ardyn strongly implored. Keeping his eyes on theirs, Ardyn gently shook his head to emphasize his point. "No one knows what you've done. I've made it so. As far as the public is aware, you lost conscious from having hit your head on the way to the airships. The only souls who know the truth are the dear companions we've kept close, and for the record, Betrys and the Serpent Society--hell, Senator Rodrick and his bride, they've been nuisances wanting to know how you've been fairing. See for yourself in your chambers, it's filled with tributes wishing you well. There's no need to catastrophize."

"You really think hearing that I received material goods is going to make me feel better?"

"You misconstrued my intention--"

"It doesn't matter," Y/N interrupted again. "There's no coming back from this. You know what the worst part it was? There was some part of me that was still aware, that enjoyed what I was doing to those people! I liked chasing Tuti. I liked it when I scared and then killed those people who tried to harm us. It wasn't my daemon, it wasn't the hivemind, it was all me! It was all me!"

“Y/N, it’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be! I assure you---”

“Spare me! I should be rotting somewhere, not them! You can’t just---wave a hand and make this...this feeling go away, as you do when you’re dealing with matters as Chancellor! Ardyn, you can’t fix this! No matter how desperately I wish you could, and no matter how earnestly you yearn for it!"

Ardyn’s heart pounded as Y/N’s voice grew hoarse from screaming. The final yell broke them, for they devolved into pained sobs as he watched Y/N turn their back to him. No longer having the courage to look him in the eye, nor face what they had done any further. He flinched upon seeing Y/N weakly hit their head with their own hands until grief held back their self hatred.

“I shouldn’t have waken up. I shouldn’t--” Y/N shoulders trembled.

The air hung heavy with the weight of Y/N’s emotions, and Ardyn felt a palpable tension not only in the room but within his body. He was relieved that Y/N couldn’t recall their actions at Outpost 98, but he was quite disappointed in himself that he couldn’t lock away what had happened in Altissa. If only he hadn’t been distracted by Ifrit, of trying to seek answers in darkness, if only he had kept up his concentration, if only he had been more dutiful keeping watch over them in bed, if only…

There was no use. The damage had been done, but now came the tricky part: how to proceed.

Ardyn felt a compulsion to rush to Y/N’s side, but uncertainty held him back. He was caught between a desire to be a supportive presence, fear of encroaching on Y/N’s vulnerability, and wanting to leave Y/N on their own while they settled with their fright. This wasn’t his battle after all. He didn’t have a stake in Y/N’s guilt, but he knew there was no chance in six hells he was going to let that go. No. Not when he could feel the very essence of their humanity, reaching out through the scourge to be forgiven.

Ardyn hesitated further. He swallowed hard as he began to feel his own emotions mirror the turmoil in the kitchen. Hands twitching nervously at his sides, he took a cautious step forward. The noise was enough to quiet Y/N down, if only for a second. Once the silence cemented for a time, did Ardyn let go. The words left him without a second thought.

“May I hold you?” He asked barely above a whisper. He had never felt this nervous or so resolutely inclined to act on such a powerful impulse.

Y/N sniffled as their head turned to the side, giving a faint nod. The silent permission granted Ardyn the courage to close the distance between them.

As he approached Y/N, Ardyn placed a hand on their quaking shoulder. Initially startled, he felt emboldened to proceed. Slowly, his hands traveled down Y/N’s sides, securing a hold at their waist before enveloping them in a gentle embrace from behind. His touch was a delicate balance between assurance and tenderness, and he could feel Y/N melt little by little. The fragility he sensed in Y/N stirred a desire to shield them from further harm, to be a source of solace in the midst of uncertainty. He squeezed a little tighter, holding onto Y/N as if they were a fragile bird whose wings had been clipped. His nose softly pressed the back of Y/N's head as he breathed, acknowledging how much he had missed their scent.

“You’re right,” Ardyn murmured. “You’re a menace. I can’t undo the past nor your actions, and yet I remain at your side.”

“Ardyn--”

“You speak so low of yourself it's utterly exhausting,” He bitterly whispered against their scalp. “I don't move men nor stars for anyone. Do you have any idea of how much I’ve sacrificed on your behalf, the lengths I've gone? Damn you. Damn you for mattering to me."

"I can't--"

"We will get through this. That's one promise I can keep."

Y/N slowly turned around to face him. His arms still remained securely attached.

Y/N sniffed while noting the contours of Ardyn's face. There was an unmistakable sadness that echoed in the depths of his golden hues. No amount of glaring nor putting on a strong front could hide it away. His vulnerability only grew when Y/N nonverbally acknowledged the unshed tears glistening in Ardyn's eyes. They had never seen him in such pain before, and it nearly snapped them out of their own melancholic trance.

"Are you crying?" Y/N's voice trailed they watched Ardyn bite in the inside of his bottom lip. He visibly shook.

“I thought I lost...” He couldn’t finish the words. Not when the gods could so easily come to claim another soul he couldn't be without. His arms adjusted, giving Y/N the opportunity to part ways while a silent understanding was shared. As soon as Y/N reached a hand to touch his face, it was over.

Y/N found themself reciprocating a tight hug as Ardyn brought their body to his chest and squeezed. His soft lips peppered the side of their forehead while he held them close, not having the courage to let go.

#mending shadows #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ffxv ardyn #ardyn x reader #gender neutral reader #ffxv fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv ardyn #final fantasy xv fanfic #ff15 ardyn #ardyn izunia fanfic #JFC I FINALLY GOT THE FUCK OVER MYSELF AND FINISHED THIS ONE still not satisfied but sometimes you just gotta say fuck it #burnout for creative things has been real guys

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kingofsummer93 · 1 year

Text

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 12: The Unexpected Task

Ao3 Masterlist

Lucien flicked his wand, concentrating on the non-verbal spell as he stared at the cushion in front of him. The cushion shuddered, the red velvet fabric splitting as a tail sprouted from one of the corners. The back, however, remained perfectly smooth, looking decidedly more like a throw pillow than the hedgehog he was meant to be turning it into.

“You stink at this.” Vassa smirked as her own hedgehog wobbled across the desk and climbed onto Lucien’s pillow, setting down for a nap.

“I don’t know why anyone would need to turn a cushion into a hedgehog anyway,” Lucien grumbled.

Tamlin grunted his agreement. His own attempt had been slightly more successful than Lucien’s- his cushion had sprouted not just a tail, but also spikes and legs. The effect, however, was far more horrifying, as the creature’s lack of eyes made it a walking menace.

“You should get that thing under control,” Vassa warned as the spiked creature pattered blindly around the floor.

“You know what,” Lucien declared, “I kind of like him. We should keep him.”

“He can be our fifth,” Tamlin added with a smirk.

“Yup, that’s exactly what we need. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know why I’m friends with you guys.” Vassa rolled her eyes and flicked her wand, smoothly transfiguring her hedgehog back into a bright pink cushion.

“You mean other than how simply dashing we all are?”

“You mean simply dung-brained,” Vassa quipped drily. She flicked her wand again and this time her cushion flew straight to Tamlin’s head.

“Speaking of dashing friends,” she continued, ignoring Tamlin’s yelps. “Have you spoken to Elain lately?”

Lucien’s stomach flipped with guilt. He kept his focus on his almost-hedgehog, schooling his features into a neutral expression. “Why do you ask that?”

Tamlin and Vassa immediately stopped their bickering and smirked at him in unison.

“You tell us.” Tamlin drawled. “You finally kiss her and now you can’t even see her in the hall without tripping over your own feet.”

Vassa snickered, earning a half-hearted scowl from Lucien. “Seriously, you were more smooth back in fourth year when you convinced Jes to go to the greenhouses with you.”

“That was pretty smooth,” Tamlin agreed, a faraway look glazing his eyes. “Snagging a seventh year, what a legend you were…”

Lucien smirked slightly at the memory. Elain liked gardening, didn’t she? Maybe he should ask her to come for a midnight greenhouse stroll with him…

“Don’t even think about it,” Vassa warned, crossing her arms. “I can see the wheels turning in your brain.”

Lucien sighed, flicking his wand again. His cushion shuddered and sprouted a few spikes.

“Did something happen that you aren’t telling us about?” Tamlin pushed. “You went from talking to her every chance you could get, to avoiding her…”

Lucien shifted uncomfortably under his friends’ searching looks. There was no hiding anything from them. They knew him too well.

“Yes,” he admitted, dropping his voice to a whisper. “But I can’t tell you about it.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell us about it?”

“Lucien Vanserra, what have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Lucien suddenly fell silent as he heard a noise near his feet. Too late he realized that the classroom had gone quiet, and that everyone was now staring at them. He stiffened as something slithered past his leg- a snake, thin and black like a whisp of shadow. It slid up the leg of the nearest desk, and with a brief flash of light Professor Amaratha appeared. The teacher crossed one leg over the other as she perched on the edge of the desk, regarding him with utter disdain.

“If I had a galleon for every stupidity that’s been said in the past five minutes,” she started unceremoniously, “I might actually be able to retire. Imagine what you could all achieve if you put half as much effort in your spellwork as you do with gossiping.”

“Sorry, Professor…” Vassa muttered.

Professor Amaratha ignored her and picked up Lucien’s half-hearted attempt at transfiguring his cushion, her lips curving into a sneer. “Since Mr Vanserra’s private life is of such dire importance, why don’t you go ahead and share with the class what you were discussing?”

Tamlin and Vassa shifted uncomfortably, glancing between him and the teacher. Lucien flashed a grin, though he knew it wouldn’t get him out of trouble with Amarantha.

“Surely you wouldn’t want me to spill my darkest and most dangerous secrets, Professor?”

Idiotic. It was a simply idiotic thing to say, but seeing Amarantha’s eyes flash with irritation was worth whatever punishment was coming his way. The entire class was still staring, most students looking like they didn’t know whether to cringe or laugh.

Amarantha’s silence was heavy and loaded with threat. “Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr Vanserra, for mouthing off and for using my class as your gossiping time.”

An audible groan rippled around the classroom. “Next time please remember that in this classroom you are no more special than-“

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone!” Lucien interrupted, his temper flaring.

Amarantha smiled in wicked delight. “And another 10 points, for interrupting me.”

Lucien clamped his mouth shut.

“Since you’ve already interrupted the class, why don’t share some more?”

Why don’t you go back to the shit-hole from hell you crawled out of…

A bell sounded in the hall, announcing the end of class. There was a collective sigh of relief as everyone dove for their book bags, eager to escape.

“Not so fast!” Amarantha demanded, sliding off the desk and making her way back up to the front of the class. “I have an announcement. The school will be hosting a ball on December twenty-first, the night of Winter Solstice.”

The students, who had been inching their way towards the door, suddenly perked with interest.

“The Solstice ball is a traditional part of the Tri-Trials Tournament. The ball will be open to fourth years and above, but you may invite a younger student to accompany you if you wish.” The teacher paused and huffed as a few girls giggled at the back of the class.

“Dress robes will be worn, and there will be a feast followed by dancing.” Lucien had a sudden, horrible vision of Professor Amarantha dancing and visibly winced. The teacher sneered at him, evidently misunderstanding the gesture. “Yes, Mr Vanserra, dancing. I would suggest you change your attitude, seeing as the four champions and their partners will be opening the ball.”

“And here I thought you just said I wasn’t special?” Lucien quipped with a grin. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

The look Professor Amarantha shot him was nothing short of scathing. “Another ten points from Gryffindor. Class dismissed.

Lucien ignored his friends’ glares as he grabbed his book bag and hauled ass out of the classroom before he could get docked even more points.

“Well, there’s your opportunity,” Vassa declared.

“My opportunity for what?”

Vassa rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “Your opportunity for a grand gesture with Elain! Ask her to the ball, you dummy!”

Lucien swallowed thickly, trying and failing not to imagine himself dancing with Elain at the ball. Or how stunning she’d look in her dress robes, or how it would feel to hold her in his arms.

“I can’t.” As difficult as it was to admit, he knew it was true.

Somehow he’d triggered that vision. If she kept getting close to him, what else would she see? And how soon until she figured out the truth? It wasn’t just his future at stake, but his friends’ as well. They risked getting expelled if someone found out.

He had known it all along, of course. People like him weren’t meant to lead normal lives. He wasn’t meant to be a normal teenager, with a girlfriend he could bring home and introduce to his parents.

This is the chest of drawers my assholes brothers once locked me in, this is my childhood bedroom, oh, and this is the cage where I get locked up once a month.

Elain wasn’t someone he could just have fun with and not get close to. She deserved better than that.

She deserved better than him.

---

“A ball!” Nuala held out her arms, twirling down the corridor as if she were dancing with an invisible partner. “I can’t wait, it’s going to be magical!”

“Do you think we’ll get asked by someone?” Cerridwen asked, biting her lip.

Elain huffed indignantly. “Of course you will, what are you talking about?”

“Easy for you to say when the most attractive boy in school is practically your boyfriend.” Nuala stopped prancing and stuck out her tongue.

“Lucien is not my…boyfriend!” she sputtered, feeling her face growing hot.

She hadn’t spoken to him at all since the first trial. It seemed like every time they so much as locked eyes Lucien would turn and walk in the opposite direction. He even managed to ignore her in Divination class.

Every time she thought about it her stomach clenched with regret. No doubt whatever interest he had before had vanished when she had babbled about visions and werewolves. He must think her insane, and she didn’t really blame him.

Her friends shared a knowing glance and Elain rolled her eyes at their antics. Still, she’d be lying if she hadn’t pictured being at the ball with Lucien ever since hearing about it. Not that she would ever admit that to them. She’d never hear the end of it.

As they walked down the marble staircase towards the entrance hall a familiar flash of red hair caught her attention. Lucien was standing in the middle of the hall, talking to a gaggle of seventh year girls.

No, not talking- flirting was a better word. The girls were giggling and twirling their hair, clearly fighting for his attention. And, most probably, hoping that he would ask one of them to go to the ball with him.

The sight of it made Elain feel idiotic for thinking he might ask her at all. Of course he wouldn’t. He hadn’t even spoken to her in weeks. There was no chance he would want to go with her and not one of these pretty, flirty girls, who looked at him like he was a god and none of whom were a freak of nature.

She felt a fresh wave of embarrassment as she remembered what she had told him the summer before, as they rode his flying bike. The ball would be the perfect opportunity for couples to sneak off to dark, private corners of the castle. No doubt he’d have more fun with one of those girls than with someone who’d gotten dumped for being prudish. Maybe that was why he’d lost interest. He’d realized she wasn’t worth all that effort.

“Elain? What’s wrong?”

Elain blinked, realizing she had frozen in the middle of the staircase. Her friends were peering up at her with identical looks of concern as students jostled their way around her.

“Nothing,” Elain squeaked. To her horror she felt tears pricking the back of her eyes. “I’m fine I just…I forgot something in the classroom, I’ll see you guys at dinner!”

Without waiting for them to reply she turned and bolted up the stairs. She fought her way through the throng of students making their way to the Great Hall, not bothering to apologize as she shoved her way through. She ran up the stairs and down corridor after corridor, until finally she was alone. With a heavy sigh she slumped onto a window ledge, and only then did she allow the tears to fall.

Stupid. She was so stupid and naive. Of course she wasn’t special. Lucien might have insinuated that she was but obviously he would say that. Of course the Pygmy Puff wasn’t the only gift he’d ever bought for a girl. He might have bought a whole cage of them, for all she knew.

Her breathless sobs echoed around the empty corridor. Elain hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her face onto her knees, hating herself for feeling this way. This was why she had kept her distance, even if part of her hadn’t wanted to. Because she’d known how badly she could get hurt if she let herself fall for someone like Lucien.

“Elain? Are you alright?”

Elain gasped in fright, her sobs catching in her throat as she realized she wasn’t alone. For one wild second she dared to hope that it might be Lucien- and then her hope crashed into bitter disappointment. It wasn’t Lucien, but Azriel. He was frowning, looking supremely uncomfortable as he scanned the empty corridor.

Great. Another boy who had avoided her like the plague for weeks. Just what she needed. Elain wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with the cuff of her robes, hoping she didn’t look like as much of a mess as she felt.

Are you alright. As if he hadn’t caught her sobbing in an empty corridor. She almost wanted to laugh.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was still slightly choked with tears.

Azriel looked unconvinced. He shuffled awkwardly, a slight flush staining his cheeks.

“I’m fine,” she said again, with more conviction this time. “I was just…upset about something.”

“Something? Or someone?”

Elain huffed in irritation. “I’m not quite sure how that’s any of your business.”

Azriel’s blush deepened. He held up his hands, wincing slightly. “Sorry, obviously it’s none of my business…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Glancing around the corridor Elain realized she had run almost all the way to the North Tower. Probably as far away from the Slytherin common room, down in the dungeons, as you could get.

“Oh!” A slight grin tugged at Azriel’s lips. “I was, uh…I was looking for you, actually.”

Elain frowned suspiciously. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The grin widened. “Got lucky, I guess.” His hazel eyes, usually perpetually trained on the ground, were bright and sparkling. He looked more animated than she had ever seen him.

“Are you drunk?”

Azriel laughed, the sound brighter and merrier than any sound she’d ever heard him make. “No. Why would you ask that?”

“You seem…strange. Happy.”

“Ouch. Don’t spare my feelings, Elain.”

Elain winced apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…sorry.”

Azriel only grinned at her, and it was Elain’s turn to shuffle awkwardly. “Um. You were looking for me?” Suddenly she remembered that their last conversation had been an argument in the middle of potions class. An argument about Lucien. Her wariness returned, accompanied by a bone-deep longing for her bed, where she could hopefully wallow some more. Uninterrupted, this time.

“Yes.” Azriel cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I wanted to apologize. For what I said to you, when we had that argument. It wasn’t fair…or very nice. I’ve felt bad about it for weeks but I’m terrible at this kind of stuff…”

Some of the tension eased off Elain’s shoulders. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s his fault, he always finds a way to get under my skin.”

She knew she didn’t have to specify which he she was referring to. She expected Azriel to sneer, but he only smiled at her knowingly. “Friends?” he asked, extending a hand.

Elain laughed, shaking his hand. He was definitely a little bit drunk. “Friends,” she agreed. “You know, I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”

He blushed again, dipping his chin. His floppy dark hair fell over his eyes with the motion. He was really quite cute when he smiled. And when he talked.

“There was something else I wanted to ask you.” He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “Willyougoballwithme?”

Elain blinked in confusion and huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Will you, um. Will you go to the ball with me?”

“Oh!”

Elain felt a flush bloom up her cheeks. She thought of Lucien and that gaggle of girls, all swarming for his attention.

Azriel’s eyes were wide and hopeful, his hands clenching and unclenching, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. Maybe this was what she needed. Someone quiet and kind, whose interest in her might last longer than one kiss.

“Unless someone already asked you, or you don’t want to, it’s totally fine…”

“Oh, no. No one’s asked me yet. Um. Sure, I’d love to go with you.”

Azriel grinned broadly, looking like he couldn’t quite believe it. “It must be my lucky night.”

She’d have fun, she decided. She’d dance with Azriel and make sure Lucien saw, and she wouldn’t care about whatever girl he danced with.

And maybe she didn’t quite believe it yet, but she told herself that by Winter Solstice she would.

---

Lucien lay slumped on the dusty four-poster in the Shrieking Shack, the weak light of dawn filtering in through the grimy windows. The pastel-colored light illuminated the dust motes and dirt that covered the place, but in the light of day the shack looked no more menacing than what it truly was- a dilapidated old cottage, no ghosts or otherwise evil creature in sight.

Every inch of his body screamed in pain. His bones creaked and ached, and his muscles were sore and stiff as if he’d spent an entire night running through the woods. Which, of course, was exactly what he had done.

He stood up gingerly, his head swimming with a rush of dizziness. There was a foul taste in his mouth that he chose to ignore for now, though it made his stomach churn. Blood, flesh, and the unmistakable texture of feathers. He gritted his teeth against the sudden rush of nausea. Probably just a pheasant. He’d certainly eaten stranger things before.

Just the thought of it was enough for his stomach to give another mighty lurch. He barely managed to stumble to the bathroom before retching violently. This was another reason he strictly forbid his friends from staying with him when he transformed, however much he longed for their company. Seeing your friend retch up firewhiskey was one thing, but seeing them retch up a half-digested woodland creature was another business entirely. Not that they would do anything but tease him for it.

His legs shook as he made his way down the underground tunnel back towards the Whomping Willow. More than once he had to stop to catch his breath, leaning against the damp earth walls as he fought the lingering nausea. The Whomping Willow stirred as he finally crawled his way out of the hidden entrance.

“Calm down, you ridiculous tree…”

Great. Now he was talking to trees. He desperately needed sleep. He was so exhausted that it was an effort to lift a stick and press the knot to silence the Whomping Willow. All he wanted was to stop by the infirmary, drink a whole jug of pain tonic, crawl to Gryffindor Tower, and pass out in his bed until at least mid-afternoon. Thankfully it was Saturday and he wouldn’t need to come up with an excuse for missing any lessons.

The heavy wooden front door groaned as he pushed it open and walked into the warmth of the Entrance Hall. He raked a hand down his face, wishing he could simply apparate up to the infirmary.

“Lucien?”

He froze, his blood running cold. That voice was familiar enough that he knew who it was without a doubt before even looking. For a few moments the Entrance Hall appeared deserted, and Lucien frowned, his heart racing.

But then, sure enough- there she was, stepping out of the shadows next to the door that led to the kitchens and Hufflepuff dormitory.

“Elain. Hi.” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, and he knew without looking at himself that he must look as wretched as he felt. “What are you doing?”

Elain looked him up and down, her eyes widening slightly at his appearance. Merlin, what must she be thinking? He only hoped there was no blood on his face. Or feathers, for that matter. Scratches and bruises could be explained, but…

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Quidditch practice.” The lie came easily, though he hated himself for it. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get some extra practice in.”

She frowned, doubt written all over her face. She didn’t move from the other side of the Entrance Hall, and Lucien didn’t dare step closer. He didn’t need her to take a closer look at him. The faster he ended this conversation and the less questions she asked, the better.

“What are you doing up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday?”

“Herbology project. I’m growing Venomous Tentaculas, they flourish best if you transplant them at dawn.” Lucien relaxed slightly. That sounded definitely plausible. Just a coincidence, then. A terribly unlucky one, but still just a coincidence. “After a full moon.”

Those four words seemed to take an eternity to click into his consciousness. “What did you just say?”

Another frown. “I said Tentaculas need to be transplanted at dawn after a full moon for them to grow properly.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“I didn’t want to go outside until after sunrise since, you know…”

“Oh. Right, of course. Shit, I didn’t realize it was a full moon…” Did he sound convincing? He looked over his shoulder at the front door and widened his eyes for good measure. “Well, I didn’t see anything while I was out there...”

When he turned around Elain was still staring at him. He cleared his throat, inching his way towards the marble staircase. “Well, I should go take a shower, I probably stink.”

Elain was still hovering near the edge of the entrance hall, still looking at him with a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite place. It almost looked like she was waiting for him to say something else.

Lucien could practically hear Vassa’s voice screaming inside his head.

Ask her to the ball, you dummy!

The words were on the tip of his tongue. Even if this was not the way he would have gone about it- sore, exhausted, smellier than the bottom of the Great Lake and probably just as slimy.

But then he remembered the look on her face when she told him about her vision. That look had been nothing but pure fear. She might not agree with his father on his policies, but that didn’t mean she’d be willing to date a werewolf, either.

“Um. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Right. Sure.” With that she strode across the hall, keeping her gaze on the floor so her long locks hid her face.

“Wait!”

She paused with her hand against the front door. When she turned to look at him her eyes didn’t quite meet his. She bit her lip, and the sight of it (and the memory of how those lips felt against his) was almost enough to obliterate his resolve.

“Did you bring your gloves?”

Her gaze did meet his then, her lips parting in surprise. “What?”

“Venomous Tentaculas are dangerous, aren’t they? Make sure you use gloves.”

He felt her eyes on him as he turned and hurried up the stairs, practically running away from her before she could say anything.

Or before she could spot the pain in his eyes that had nothing to do with his sore body.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

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