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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Gate of Salvation [1/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, anxiety, manipulation, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Aemond as a Pope Edit

Series Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What happened after the conclave took everyone by surprise and caused complete chaos in the Catholic Church; she was one of the people who watched the live coverage from St Peter's Square.

She prayed in spirit that her uncle and her mother's brother, Cardinal Reene, would not become Pope.

Admittedly, it was thanks to him that she was living in Rome, and without his financial support she would not have been able to study, however, her uncle was a person who did nothing selflessly.

He recalculated to himself that if his niece wanted to study marketing at University then he would help her, reminding her at times that he would count on her help in the future, to create a good, sympathetic image of him.

She had the feeling that listening to him she was even losing her faith, which, despite her many internal disputes and doubts, was strong in her. She returned to the bosom of the church of her own free will when she was in high school after years of not attending Mass; she discovered that she felt attached to this tradition, as well as to God himself, whose presence she subconsciously felt all around her.

She knew that her uncle would certainly try to bribe other cardinals and she guessed what his pontificate would be like, so she begged God in her prayers not to allow such a man to become head of the church in his name, and heavens, as always, heard her prayers.

When she saw the white smoke on the screen she let out a loud breath, closing the textbook she had just been reading – she heard shouts and applause of joy coming from the television; the bells rang out, the solemn moment when the new pope comes out onto the balcony to greet his faithful was about to begin.

This went on for an astonishingly long time and she wondered if something had happened or if the votes had been miscounted, however, she heard the cheers of the crowd again as the doors opened. What stepped out was not a procession, but an ordinary priest in a black cassock; she recognised in him the secretary of the late Pope, who was certainly not a cardinal.

He seemed tense and frightened; he approached the microphone and said only two sentences.

"We have a Pope. The Holy Father, who has taken the name Pius XIII, asks you all to pray for him." He said in a trembling, uncertain voice, all pale, and then disappeared back behind the door – voices of disbelief and disappointment spread throughout the square, the gathered people, like her, were shocked.

However, all the internet portals published the name of the cardinal who had been elected; it turned out that the new pope was Cardinal Targaryen, a very little-known, withdrawn and shockingly young priest.

He was only two years older than her.

Journalists despaired that there were no official or unofficial photos of him, no statements from him, as if he had lived for years locked away in some monastery and never stepped into the light of day.

The world was confused and anxious – the young pope had not stepped out onto the balcony of St Peter's Basilica even once despite the crowds gathered in the square below chanting his name day and night.

She wondered if, in this way, he wanted to focus the world's attention even more on himself by standing in the absolute centre of it, and thought that if so, it was not a good beginning to his pontificate.

Two days later, her uncle paid her an unannounced visit at the flat he was renting to her, dressed so that no one would recognise him, just like the other cardinals still hounded by journalists and paparazzi.

"I need your help. The matter is very delicate." He said quickly, handing her his coat, which she hung on one of the hangers, looking at him over her shoulder in surprise.

"Me?" She asked with her eyes wide open, wondering what was going on there that required the help of someone from outside the Vatican.

"Pius XIII is a cripple. He lost his left eye as a child. He insists that if he is to show himself to a crowd, it should only be with his artificial eye, but not an ordinary one, one that resembles the real one, but a completely white one. He thinks this suits his attire and position better, but we think it will create additional confusion about him. Additionally, he wants to keep the Pope's public appearances to a complete minimum. He has fired all the Vatican marketing people with years of experience. This is some madness. Can I have a coffee?" He finally asked after his verbosity, sitting down in a chair at the living room table, placing his black wide-brimmed hat on the tabletop, sighing heavily.

She nodded, snapped out of her reverie and the shock of his words, pulling a mug and black coffee from her cupboard. Her uncle drank coffee made from three heaped teaspoons without milk, and although she didn't know how he could swallow something so disgusting and not have a heart attack in the process, she made it the way he liked it.

She swallowed loudly, pouring water into the kettle, putting it on the burner and turning the fire on under it, analysing everything he had told her.

"It sounds like he has a very low and a very high opinion of himself at the same time. How could I help here, uncle? I'm just a student." She said in dismay, shrugging her shoulders; her uncle nodded his head as if convinced that this would be her answer.

"You are young, you have a fresh outlook. He doesn't want to listen to us old people, he thinks we're out of step with the world and what it needs, whatever that means." He said with a sneer, looking out of the window, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with a creak of wood.

"I'd like you to try to talk to him, to understand what he means, what his vision is. Guide him to the idea that young people too want peace and predictability, not perpetual rebellion. I told him I could introduce you, that you are very talented and he agreed." He said finally and scratched the back of his neck – she heard the kettle whistle and turned off the fire under it, feeling that she had simply run out of words.

"− what? − I − oh God, uncle, I don't know − what if I make things worse and you lose in his eyes because of me? −" She muttered, feeling adrenaline start to bubble throughout her body; she poured hot water over the coffee in her mug, grabbed it and set it in front of him, then started walking back and forth across the room, panicking in some kind of way.

"This would just be a consultation − two young people want to change the image of the church to, let's say, a more welcoming one − this could be your big chance." He said, lifting the mug to his lips, taking a sip from it and murmuring contentedly, apparently finding that his coffee was exactly the way he liked it.

He persuaded her for so long that she finally agreed, but she regretted it as soon as he walked out.

She was inexperienced in discussions with this world, with such people, and was afraid she would make a mistake, do something against protocol and embarrass herself.

Her uncle sent her a message on the day of the meeting saying that she must dress modestly, preferably in white or black her dress must end at least past her knees, her toes must not stick out of her shoes, her shoulders must be covered. Sharp, defiant make-up was not acceptable.

She was to address the Pope as Holy Father or Your Holiness, keep the proper distance, not sit with her legs crossed, not put her elbows on the armrests, not lean or crouch in front of him, approach him only if he wanted her to kiss his ring.

The amount of information she received overwhelmed her; she took a quick look in her wardrobe and found that her simple black dress with white embroidered collar and cuffs was the perfect length – it had no cleavage, it looked elegant, innocent and girly at the same time.

She decided to wear flesh-coloured tights with it and sleek black shoes, which she had previously polished. She styled her long dark hair in a braid around her head, keeping it in place with pins, short, unruly strands on the sides of her face.

She used only mattifying powder and mascara as her make-up, deciding that this was enough, around her neck a necklace with a small gold cross that she had been given once by her grandfather.

At the appointed hour, a black car pulled up in front of her townhouse; she got into the back seat and greeted the driver, who, however, did not answer her, driving off without a word.

After several minutes they were already in the Vatican itself; she looked through the car window at the crowds of people spilling out of St Peter's Square, saw a group of men and women holding cardboard sheets in their hands with the handwritten words:

Our Pope does not love us.

She lowered her gaze, silently contemplating all that was happening, and shuddered as they stopped in front of the gate – a Swiss Guard officer dressed in colourful historical attire with red, yellow and navy blue stripes stopped their car.

Her driver showed him his ID and the man nodded – the gate opened and they drove inside into a small courtyard that she saw for the first time in her life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the figure of her uncle waiting for her in his full, opulent cardinal's robe, a cross on his chest of pure gold, adorned with rubies and diamonds.

He greeted her with a broad smile and joy, with a gesture of his hand inviting her inside – they ascended the baroque staircase to the corridor, the view of the interior of the entire complex took her breath away.

She was surrounded on all sides by paintings and sculptures by the great Italian masters of the Renaissance, Baroque and Classicism; she felt a solemn mood, though she did not know why, as if she had in fact entered the truest home of God himself on earth.

The guards as well as other men passing her looked at her intently – she thought with horror and shame that women, with the exception of nuns, were a rare visitor to this sanctuary and aroused curiosity mixed with distrust.

Here, what Eve did in paradise according to the Bible, because of whom sin possessed man, was never forgotten.

They climbed the stairs to the upper floor and then stood in front of a large white door, high up to the ceiling, with two men in the same colourful garments standing in front of them. Her uncle sighed heavily, as if stressed himself, and looked at her comfortingly.

"I'll do the talking, you keep quiet for now." He said lightly, surprising her completely – she had no time to reply as he nodded and one of the guards opened the door for him.

Her uncle moved ahead, so she moved behind him, entering a spacious, bright room with six windows overlooking St Peter's Square – to their right stood bookcases filled to the brim with books, and to their left a huge wooden desk.

Only after a moment did she notice someone standing by one of the windows; his back turned to them, looking out at the crowds knowing they couldn't see him, a white cassock on his body, his short hair looking elegant and carefully styled, pulled back, almost white, glistening in the sunlight.

"Holy Father. As promised, I bring before you my niece, who I hope will allow us to come to an agreement." He said in a light, cheerful tone, as if addressing a friend, but they were answered by an uncomfortable silence.

She swallowed loudly when he finally turned to face them, her heart stopped for a moment when she saw how sharply shaped his face was – his cheeks and jaw were clearly outlined as if someone had carved them with a chisel, his mouth full, a pale scar running across the left side of his forehead to his cheek, his artificial eye completely white.

She felt that she was looking at him with her lips slightly parted and some sort of concern, so she lowered her gaze, reminding herself that she shouldn't do that.

"Hm." She heard him hum under his breath, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Leave us alone, Cardinal." He said finally, turning his face towards the window again – she and her uncle looked at each other horrified, for this was not their plan.

She was only going to be an accessory, he was going to be the one doing all the talking.

"Your Holiness, I…"

"Get out."

Her uncle pressed his lips together and grunted, bowed his head and left, not even bestowing a glance on her despite the despair written on her face, leaving her to her fate.

She swallowed loudly as the door closed behind him and intertwined her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do, where to look, a cold sweat on her back.

"Do not be afraid, child. I know your uncle's nature. If I didn't let him bring you here he wouldn't let me alone." He began reluctantly, as if the very fact that he had to talk to her made him very tired; he moved with his hands entwined behind him ahead, walking along the windows, his profile illuminated by the sun.

She lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of shame surge through her, understanding that he knew perfectly well what her uncle wanted.

That it wasn't just about his image, but that he, as a cardinal, wanted his favour and the high position, money and comfort he could give him.

"What do you think of my decision not to show myself in public?" He asked finally; she raised her eyes at him, surprised, horrified that she had to answer. She swallowed loudly and licked her lips, dry of stress, thinking intensely about what she should say.

"Go on. You're supposed to know it, after all, it's an image issue." He growled and looked at her with an anger that sent a shiver through her; she stared at him in disbelief and fear trying to decide what kind of man he was.

She wasn't sure this was how a pope should behave.

"Driving here I saw people holding cardboard sheets saying: Our Pope does not love us. I felt sadness at the thought that many people feel rejected by your decision, Holy Father." She said at last, feeling that involuntarily her voice trembled and broke; she saw him tighten his lips, his nostrils moved nervously in accelerated breathing.

"Is love a perpetual vying for attention, standing in the centre? Is love only the deeds that can be shown, that anyone can see and name?" He asked frustrated, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, her lower lip quivered. She shook her head.

"People are afraid of what they do not know. You don't let them meet you, Holy Father." She whispered, and he snorted, turning back, going the other way, as if thinking over her words.

"So you think I should speak? Go out on the balcony and give them what they want?" He asked dryly. She let the air quietly out of her lungs, feeling her body tense all over – she had the feeling that she had adopted a defensive posture, as if ready for him to hit her.

"No. But I think it is necessary to find a way in which they can see you, Holy Father. To feel that you are in their lives physically as well. They need a guide, not another invisible God." She said finally and fell silent, lowering her gaze, feeling that her last sentence might have been too far-fetched.

She noticed with horror that he stopped hearing what she had said.

"You think I'm doing this out of vanity?" He asked in disbelief. She lifted her gaze to him, for some reason feeling that she was on the verge of crying.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I do not know you, nor do any of your faithful. We are sheeps who do not know where to go and where is their shepherd. Do you think we are too sinful? That we don't deserve to see you?" She asked finally in a trembling voice, his healthy eye fixed on her.

Our Pope does not love us.

She shuddered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart as he moved towards her with a slow, lazy step, not taking his eyes off her, towering over her. She didn't know what she saw in his gaze, proud and cool; she felt heat in her lower abdomen as the pleasant scent of his masculine perfume filled her nostrils.

She thought he had approached her far too closely.

She froze and swallowed loudly as he lifted his hand; she thought for a moment in horror and disbelief that he would touch her breasts, however, he grasped her golden cross in his hand and turned it between his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully.

Something about him she found disturbing, even though she was surrounded by whiteness and daylight it seemed to her that the room had gone dark.

"I am not a hypocrite. There is no greater sinner in this world than me. I am vain. I am proud. I am cold. I am eternally, eternally thirsty." He murmured softly and looked into her eyes, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.

She felt panic begin to overtake her body as her insides throbbed wonderfully hard at his ambiguous, unsettling words.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked, still playing with her necklace, however, he did so in such a way that once in a while his fingers rubbed against the material of her dress lying between her breasts, each time a wonderful shiver ran through her spine.

She was only able to breathe and look at him, nothing more.

There was something evil, menacing, lewd in the way he asked the question, in the way he acted and the way he looked at her and she knew it, she was horrified by how strongly her body reacted to it.

"Yes." She whispered, as if she was admitting something she was ashamed of, something that was her secret.

He hummed again under his breath, as if accepting her words – his hand let go of her necklace and returned to the other, placed behind his back.

"I'm hiring you. You will be my image specialist. I expect you here tomorrow at 8am. That's all. You may go." He said indifferently, turning away as if nothing had happened; she sighed quietly, terrified, and nodded with a rapidly pounding heart.

"Holy Father." She mumbled, then turned and walked out.

Her uncle ran after her asking her what they were talking about and what had happened – he made the sign of the cross with some kind of relief on his face when she told him in horror that he had hired her.

"What did you say to him about me? I'm only in my second year of university, I don't have the right experience yet." She muttered in a trembling voice; her uncle sighed, correcting his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger.

"He doesn't care about your experience." He said amused, and she looked at him in disbelief.

It suddenly dawned on her what her uncle had been planning all along, and what she had gotten herself into because of her foolishness and naivety.

There is no greater sinner in this world than me.

I am eternally, eternally thirsty.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears filling her eyes again as she moved forward, covering her mouth with her hand, distraught, humiliated.

Her uncle didn't want her to be his worker.

Her uncle wanted her to be his lover.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

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mimisempai · 7 months

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I love the angel you chose to be

Summary

Crowley overhears a conversation between Aziraphale and Muriel, and realizes that words spoken millennia ago can linger in the mind for a long time, even if the person who spoke them has forgotten them. It's time for him to help his angel forget them.

Notes

We all love Aziraphale Curly and messy blond hair…

Day 2 : Playing with hair

On Ao3

Rating G - 1452 words

Crowley entered the bookstore, coffee and hot chocolate in hand holding a couple of Eccles cakes wrapped by Nina under his arm, but he saw no one.

He was about to call out when he heard voices that sounded like they were coming from the back of the bookshop.

He was on his way there when he heard Muriel's voice as they asked, "Aziraphale, I heard Maggie and Nina talking about something, and I was wondering, is it deliberate that the front of the bookshop is the same shade as Crowley's hair?"

Crowley paused, now curious to hear the angel's answer.

Aziraphale coughed and Crowley would have given anything to see his expression at that moment, but he couldn't without revealing his presence and he was eager to hear the angel's answer.

"Well, at first it was just a coincidence, I thought the old-fashioned red and gold gave the place a distinguished look, and then it's true that over time I also liked the idea that looking at it reminded me of his hair."

Muriel said in a slightly teasing voice, "I've seen you with your hand in Crowley's hair often enough to know that you like his hair, you know."

Crowley stifled a small gasp, thinking that Aziraphale probably had the same blush on his cheeks as he did. That nosy little bee!

"Well... you see this hair, it's kind of special, you know. It's not really red, it's an infinite shade of red. In the evening, his red hair takes on the softest sheen, and in the starlight, the red becomes intense, like the reddest of Burgundy wines, but my favorite shade is in the morning, when the rising sun reflects off it and gives it an incandescent glow."

Okay, no doubt Crowley's cheeks were now as scarlet as his hair.

"I see, I see," Muriel replied, "but how would you describe your own hair?"

Aziraphale immediately replied, "Light blonde. There's nothing special about it."

Muriel asked in a genuinely curious tone, "Do you think Crowley has the same fascination with your hair as you do with his?"

Crowley didn't like the angel's dismissive chuckle at all before replying, "Not at all. You know, I think Crowley even finds my curls funny."

"Oh, how do you know?"

Aziraphale replied, "I have known for thousands of years. Right after we saved Job's children."

Aziraphale turned to the demon and said, "I'm ready to go.

Crawley looked at him in surprise and asked, "Go where?"

"To Hell."

The demon immediately replied, "I'm not taking you to Hell, Angel."

"Why not?"

"Well, I don't think you'd like it."

Aziraphale protested, "But you have to. I'm like you now. A demon."

Crawley began to smile and said in a distinctly mocking tone, "Sorry. You think you're a demon? With your curly little... and your neat white..."

The angel finished his story, "You see, Muriel, I don't think he sees anything fascinating in my curly little... I don't know what he would have called it, but given his sneering expression, it wouldn't have been very flattering."

He heard the angel clap his hands as he continued, "Come on Muriel, let's finish putting away these new books and then we've earned a little break. I think Crowley even went to get us some snacks."

Despite the angel's attempt to sound enthusiastic, Crowley knew him well enough to detect the small nuance of despondency beneath the cheerful tone.

He hadn't meant any harm at the time, of course, but knowing Aziraphale as he did now, knowing the damage Heaven had done to his self-esteem, those words had naturally left a mark on Aziraphale.

His dear angel, always so insecure when it came to himself.

The demon tiptoed back, careful not to be noticed, and silently left the shop before reentering, this time with a bang.

"Aziraphale! Muriel! I'm home! It's break time for those who pretend to work."

The two angels appeared from behind the shelves, and Crowley chuckled as they both snapped at him, offended by his earlier statement.

As he handed out drinks and cakes, Aziraphale stepped up to the window, just under a ray of sunlight that illuminated him, forming a halo around his head.

Crowley smiled softly.

His hair funny?

Nonsense.

Crowley was going to show him.

********

A little later in the evening, they were both sitting on the sofa, one against the other. Aziraphale was reading aloud and Crowley commented from time to time.

Suddenly, Aziraphale stopped reading and asked him softly, "Crowley, my dear, won't you lie down and put your head in my lap?"

Crowley smiled softly, secretly glad to have the opportunity he had been looking for, then shook his head, "No, Angel, tonight I'd like to change."

Aziaphale turned his head to him and asked, confused, "Change what?"

Crowley took the book from his hands and placed it beside him, then patted his own lap and said softly, "Tonight, you're the one who's going to lie down and put your head on my lap."

He put his arm around the shoulders of Aziraphale, who still looked a little confused, and pulled him close to lie down.

The angel relented, but Crowley could tell by the look on his face that he didn't quite understand. He could understand, after all, it was the first time they'd reversed positions like this.

When he was sure the Angel was settled, he bent down and planted a light kiss on his temple before whispering in his ear, "Angel, I overheard your conversation with Muriel about my hair and especially yours. I can't let you continue to think that I find your hair ridiculous or funny or whatever silly idea my clumsy words might have put into your head."

The demon straightened, placed his hands on the angel's hair, and stroked it gently.

"When I spoke of your hair that day, it was because it had nothing in common with the hair of someone you'd think belonged in hell. Granted, you wouldn't fit in. But there's nothing ridiculous about those blond curls, Angel."

He buried his fingers a little deeper in the light curls and continued, "If you only knew how many times I've imagined running my hands through this hair. Long before I had the right, like now. I was dying to know if it was as soft as it looked."

The demon buried his fingers a little deeper into the angel's hair, smiling with satisfaction as he felt the angel lean his head into his fingers.

He continued, "You know, your hair is so you. Comfortable, soft, a little messy, but still well cared for. I love it, Angel. And never once have I found it ridiculous. Never once have I found anything about you ridiculous."

He grabbed his chin and turned his head up to look him in the eye before continuing, "It's like your waistcoat, your bow tie, your bookshop, how shall I put it...they have that mix of neat and messy. Your waistcoat is hanging by a thread, but you cherish it more than anything, and it fits you perfectly. Your bow tie, always well done, but often a little crooked.

Your place, let's not talk about the mess it is, but I wouldn't have it any other way because it is you. This is how you have chosen to be. Since the day you gave up your sword out of compassion. That's the angel I love. Not the perfect angel, immaculate, well-groomed, not a wrinkle out of place. Because all this proves to me that you're no longer attached to heaven, but to this world. Because you've chosen it. All this is Aziraphale. Right down to the messy light curls, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips first to the angel's forehead, then to his lips in a tender and lingering kiss.

Then, as he straightened up, he whispered in his ear, "But still, your waistcoat..."

Aziraphale exclaimed, "Hey, don't you dare, I've had it since..."

He stopped because Crowley had just begun to laugh.

Assuming an air of dignity, he tugged at the flaps of his vest and smoothed them over his waist, saying, "It's a fine vest. I don't see anything wrong with it."

Crowley gently ran a hand through his hair and replied, "Yeah, there's absolutely nothing wrong with this vest. It's perfect in my eyes. As is the Angel who wears it."

He pressed his lips to the angel's again and gave him another kiss that went on and on.

In the eyes of heaven and hell, neither of them was perfect, but that didn't matter because they were perfect for each other.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers #flufftober #flufftober 2023

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kocherry · 1 year

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Blume-ing Relationship

Cyno x GN!Reader

Cyno is really becoming my favorite character so far in the Windblume Festival so I wrote this ♡ Also this is Gender-Neutral Reader insert :>

Tags: Fluff, First Meeting, Pre-Established Relationship, Mutual Crush on First Meet, Horrible Puns

< 1.5k words >

The Windblume Festival is a season of giving gifts to your loved ones. May it be platonical, familial, or romantic anyone could receive gifts. You always have something to give for platonical and familial gifts. As for romantic... well you don't really hope to receive or give anyone this year.

Despite that you always held that tradition in giving to your Alchemy colleagues that you consider as your friends now. Speaking of them... Sucrose and Albedo are the ones you haven't given their gifts.

Luckily you spot them both but they camping outside the walls of Mondstadt near Cider Lake. They were all in a circle surrounding a campfire with a lot of travelers. It was bad timing anyway, you could see how they were all interacting like they knew each other for a long time.

As much as you wanted to give your presents, the festival won't end today. So you turn your back and as you were about to head to the city, you step on a branch snapping it in half.

"I noticed you were spying on us, who are you?"

The sudden appearance of a tan skin and medium length grey hair gentleman surprised you. His red-orange eyes pierce through your own as if he's looking at you like some sort of predator ready to pounce on his prey. He wore almost nothing but his jackal ears hood. He is on guard to every movement especially to the small boxes on your hands.

"Wait Cyno, that person is our friend." Sucrose panicked since Cyno's whole demeanor changed.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here? Did you need something?" Albedo asked as he is surprised to have seen you this late in the city.

You didn't face Sucrose and Albedo because you were too busy admiring the features of the man in front of you. He stood a little taller and he is lean. His red orange eyes went from being stern to soft as he realizes his mistake.

"Forgive me I shouldn't have assumed that you were an enemy spying on us." Cyno scratch the back of his hood as he apologizes for his brash actions.

"I-It's okay! Really... I would have done the same and uhm are you from the Akademiya?" You ask because the silver haired man is oddly familiar especially in TCG, many from sumeru used a card of his image. So you wonder if he is the General Mahamatra that they would talk about.

"No. I am Cyno the Adventurer."

Cyno's deadpan tone made you snort, you could tell that he didn't want to be addressed by his official work title.

"Ignore him, he's just on vacation mode. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit (Y/N)?" A gentlemen dressed in dark reen clothes with fox ears greeted you as his eyes narrowing at his companion in annoyance.

"Oh I came to give this to Albedo and Sucrose, I was about to leave when they seem busy but Cyno suddenly appeared." You held out two boxes for the two alchemist who recited their gratitude towards you.

Tighnari, the fox eared man, elbowed Cyno to at least be courteous and invite you to eat.

"Again, I apologize for..." Cyno handed you out a small bowl of what they were eating. "...Soup-rising you like that."

A collective groan could be heard from that pun. Although it made you laugh, which surprises Cyno himself and his companions.

"I don't mind because you're a DandeCyno."

You gave him a thumbs up replying him with a pun that you also thought about. Then Cyno seems to be surprised at the joke you just made. Maybe he didn't get it... "You know like a Dandelion plus Cyno's name. Him suddenly appearing like a wind in front of me!" You explained to make sure everyone got the idea of your pun.

Cyno places a hand over his mouth and lets out a hearty chuckle. There is a small dark blush on his cheeks as he turns to you with a smile. "I'm quite glad to have met someone who shares my sense of humor." He extends his hand and you happily shake it.

"To think someone actually laughed at my flower puns, I think our friendship will definitely blume during the festival." He lets out another pun in his deadpan tone which made it funnier to hear.

"I cecilia hope it would." You reply with a pun as well while winking at him.

"Oh no there's two of them..." Tighnari groans as he puts a hand on his temple.

The others well... they just look like they want to be swallowed by the ground. Only Albedo seems amused and crossed his arms raising an eyebrow towards the two of you.

"Are you going home after giving us these?" Albedo asks while holding out his gift. "Perhaps Cyno could accompany you back since it is quite dangerous to go out at night even if it's festive season." In all honesty the Chief Alchemist is amused by all of these and he wants to see where this would go.

Cyno just nodded at Albedo's suggestion, not even hesitating to oppose. Mainly because he seems to have a feeling that you two would get along. "I don't mind escorting you home (Y/N), besides I think I owe you this much for scaring you earlier." His hood covered the top half of his face as he remembers how intensely intimidating he is earlier.

You met the General Mahamatra and not the Adventurer Cyno. So he does want you to see him in a different way.

"Sure! Plus I want to get to know you more Cyno, you seem really fun to be around." In all honesty, you could handle yourself especially with a vision hanging on your belt.

But you don't mind walking in the night with a handsome fella who shares your love for humor.

Tighnari folded his arms and lets out an amused sigh, "I can't believe you set them up Albedo now we both have to endure their bad puns."

Albedo lets out a soft chuckle, "I think they're pretty funny." Most of them disagreed.

So back to the two of you who were walking towards Springvale.

Cyno notices a familiar box in your bagpack. His eyes brighten up at this and his lips quirk up a smile. "Do you play TCG?" He asks while pointing at your card deck that was seen through a small opening of your bag.

"I definitely do! My colleagues often play it during our free time. Do you want to play sometime?" You ask excitedly but then got embarassed since you don't want to ruin his plans especially when he's from Sumeru. "If you're... up to it I don't really want to intrude your vacation in Mondstadt."

"Aside from accompanying my friends here, the other reason is to commission the talented Calx to design my cardback." Cyno does share the excitement of playing TCG with you. "Having to play TCG with a newly found friend is surely enjoyable this season."

You sigh in relief upon hearing that, it looks like the feeling is mutual. "I can hardly wait for our duel Adventurer Cyno." You elbow him at the side gently then notice that you were already in Springvale. "Oh this is my house, thanks for the walk back."

"You're welcome, as much as I wanted to make a pun... I'll just give this."

In his hand there is an unfamiliar flower, not native from Mondstadt. You saw in books once, a Kalpata Lotus, being placed onto your head. Cyno smiles at you softly and takes a step back, "I figured you might like this particular flower back from my home." He definitely will have to say sorry to Tighnari later for stealing this flower.

When he puts the flower in your hair, his face is incredibly close to yours. You remain quite on the outside while your inner voice is already losing its shit. Despite being flustered, you have to give Cyno a gift back.

After all, equivalent of exchange is a rule in alchemy.

"Wait I think it's unfair that I didn't give you anything." You grabbed his hand before he could take a step back.

"You don't really have to—"

You take a step forward tiptoeing to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "See you tomorrow Cyno." You smile brightly and the blush on your cheeks spread throughout your face.

Cyno stare at you dumbfoundedly as you shut the door close. He place a hand on the spot where you kissed him. The beating of his heart began to thump louder as the smile you gave him is imbued into his mind.

A smile crept up his lips as he turns around wondering how to not make a fool of himself tomorrow.

On the other side of the closed door, you were sitting on the floor placing a hand over your chest. You couldn't believe you already kissed Cyno on the cheek when you just met him. Then again... he seems to he smiling when you did that.

The Windblume Festival is a season of giving gifts to your loved ones. May it be platonical, familial, or romantic anyone could receive gifts. You always have something to give for platonical and familial gifts. As for romantic... you hope Cyno would be the one to happily accept it someday.

#cyno #cyno x reader #cyno x gn reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #anyways i just love cyno so much i want to eat him up #love at first puns lmaoooo

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laismoura-art · 2 months

Text

Heya, folks! Who's ready for a new AU?👀

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, founded 5 days ago by Cetrion's ✨️delusional✨️ daughter, Harumi Shirai :D

Now, this is a Scorpion!Harumi AU... AU! So I'll be using the Scorpion!Harumi Crew and their dynamics as reference to parallel the characters. With that in mind, let's meet the hotel staff!👀

THE PRINCESS, HARUMI SHIRAI:

She has a dream! She wishes to tell! It's certainly laughable, but hey kid, what the hell? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Harumi is heir to the throne of hell, but she doesn't think much of it. Her focus lately has been solely towards this one thing:

The Hazbin Hotel!✨️🌈🌸💕 Where she will guide Sinner towards a path to salvation and away from Heaven's annual Extermination!

Hopefully...

THE BODYGUARD (AND GF), LISA LIANG:

At first glance, Lisa Liang may seem rather scary, but when you get to know her... she's still pretty scary!

But underneath all that anger (obvious unresolved trauma), mean attitude and secrets beats a lovingly and devoted heart!

Devoted to Harumi and Harumi only!

Seriously, DON'T mess with Harumi!

After being terribly injured during an Extermination, Lisa was rescued by Harumi, and from that day on, Lisa made it her life mission to protect that beautiful soul at all cost, do everything in her power to assure her dreams were fulfilled!

Even the seemingly impossible ones...

THE (ONLY) PATRON, KUAI LIANG:

The Hazbin Hotel's first (and only) guest. Don't mind him. He's only staying here for the free rent!

Or is he?

Kuai may not seem much at first glance, but stick around, and the demon will certainly surprise you!

Take the information as you will...

THE BARTENDER, HANZO HASASHI:

Need to vent? Then talk to the bartender! He may look like he's not interested, but trust me, he is the shoulder to lean on!

But don't push your luck! He's not here because he wants to be. He's here because his damned boss decided to play hotel manager and needed a doll to play with (ugh! Such an insufferable guy)!

But despite his boss's antics, Harumi's incessant singing, Lisa's constant scolding, and Kuai's insistent flirting. They weren't the worst lot to be around.

He could get used to it. Yeah... he could.

THE MAID, FROST:

She kills bugs!

That's all you need to know.

Seriously.

Move on. (ಠ_ಠ)

THE MANAGER, (DARK) RAIDEN:

The damned boss.

He's been here since day... he's been here a week. But is faithful as a nun! Or something...

And he wants to help!

Why, you ask?

SHEER. ABSOLUTE. BOREDOM :D

Probably... ig... who knows? I don't!

And neither do you :)

THE QUEEN OF HELL, CETRION:

Absent awkward, mother. She's trying, but she's usually busy.

She was once an angel, you know? Helped create stars and gardens!

That cool plant you like? She probably made that one!

Nowadays, she makes plants mostly for herself...

She has a garden of her own and all! She grows her very own flowers, unlike anything heaven's limitated ass could ever think of!

I mean, could heaven ever make

✨️The Magi-tastic Backwards Lily Flower?✨️

✨️THAT SPITS F I R E??✨️

Yeah, didn't think so😌

THE FIRST (SECOND) GUEST, BI-HAN:

Pretty sure he once had a big army, maybe he was even a leader or something. But nowadays? He's just a bit silly!

He came to the hotel as a spy, sent to keep an eye on Raiden.

But the "super villain" started to grow a bit too comfortable in the hotel and too accustomed to the compliments.

He got sloppy and was caught embarrassingly fast!

But with a simple sorry spoken straight from his core, he was given a second chance! Not that it will mean much-- H*LY SHIT HE [MAJOR SPOILERS]!!

THE HEAD SERAPHIM, ASHRAH:

Look, she's not evil! Just misguided...

She wants to protect her home and her sister and is willing to do whatever it takes!

But maybe she will calm down once she meets Heaven's newest resident...

THE OTHER SERAPHIM, SAREENA:

You can call her Sareena, Reen, Sa, Ena, whatever!

She's usually very sweet and bubbly, but she's not feeling particularly bubbly at the moment. She's learned some stuff, you know?

Maybe a new friend may help her raise her spirits?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

BONUS CHARACTERS:

THE LEADER OF CANNIBAL TOWN, DELIA:

I want to start including Delia in more on my stories, she seems like an interesting character who totally deserves more attention! Plus, I like the idea of her and Raiden bonding as (not elder) gods!

Plus imagine Delia using a big hat like Rosie's to cover her eyes!👀

THE WEAPONS' DEALER, SINDEL:

Fierce mom of two girls who would do whatever it takes to protect them.

We all know I don't need to elaborate

KUAI LIANG'S TWIN, TOMAS VRBADA:

Congratulations to Tomas for being the only one of Kuai's siblings who managed to remain his sibling on this AU, lol!

THE YET TO BE RESIDENT, CYRAX:

As Kuai's friend, I think she would fit as Cherry Bomb! It's not like Cyrax is not familiar with bombs, am I right?👀

Now, there are a couple characters that I'm still figuring out, Adam and Lute for once, have been particularly tricking!

I'm also still pondering The Vees and Lilith...

Regarding who I already choose, I know some of the choices may seem odd (Raiden, Cetrion and Bi-Han most likely) but I had my reasons for them, if you're interested in hearing them, feel free to ask, I'll gladly elaborate!

Also, please, if you have ideas to who may be the other characters, do share! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

A bit of a disclaimer before I wrap this all up!

Crimson Shadow (Bireena) is one of my main ships and is a thing in here, too! So Angel!Bi-Han will date Seraphim!Sareena. But that DOES NOT mean I ship Emily and Sir Pentious! This ship is for the AU ONLY!

That's all folks! Hope you enjoy my crazy AU!

Tagging the AU Squad:

@mikka-minns @madamealtruist (fellow Hazbin girlies)

@thedragonholder (cause you like AUs)

@running-with-the-feels (my not so discreet way of tempting you into watching Hazbin Hotel, lol)

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moonlightazriel · 1 year

Text

Son of the Darkness IV /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Hidden for so long The court of shadows thrived, and things were great until the high lord's death, now the next in line should assume the crown of high lord of shadows, will he accept his duties?

Warnings: Some fighting and mentions of blood.

Word Count: 2,2K

Notes: I struggled to get a language for the witches and ended up using Esperanto ahahahah thank you google for helping me with the translation

Son of the darkness masterlist

Main Masterlist

As soon Y/N got back to the townhouse, she asked the twin specters for candles, a bowl and silence, they were the ones home, she needed to focus, going to her room, she closed the curtains, she dragged her dagger on her palm, the blood falling on the bowl until it was full, she dipped her index finger in it, she started to create a circle, her blood tainting the floor, she kept drawing until she finished the symbol that Evanore taught her, she lit all of the candles around her and started chanting:

“Al la arbaro ni preĝas, al la naturo, kiun ni pretendas, bonvolu doni al mi la potencon de la sep, lasu min vidi kaj lasu min diri.” ("To the forest we pray, to the nature we claim, please give me the power of the seven, let me see and let me say.") She repeated those words over and over again, for those outside, they would see her sitting on her heels, palms flat on the ground, her eyes turned white and a blank expression spread over her face, but in her mind, she walked into the forest calling for her best friend, she walked a few feet away, finding Eva in their usual spot, a large tree that had some pretty red flowers in between the leaves.

“Kion vi faras ĉi tie?”(“What are you doing here?”) Evanore’s blue eyes lifted until she was staring at Y/N, her pretty light blond hair dancing in the eerie wind that surrounded the two. “Mi ne vidis vin dum kelka tempo, ĉu vi fartas?” ("I haven't seen you for a while, how are you?") She was concerned, Y/N had disappeared and all people told Eva was that she wasn't available.

“Mi estas en oficiala misio, mi ne estas en la tribunalo, mi bezonas, ke vi venu preni min.” ("I'm on an official mission, I'm not in court, I need you to come get me.") Eva looked at her, she had stopped playing with the grass, Y/N never left the court before, that could only mean that something was wrong, a few days earlier Rune, the leader of the coven was called over by the High Lord, she came back saying that things were about to change and made Eva and the others start researching traveling spells.

“Kie vi estas? Vi maltrankviligas min. Unue, la alta sinjoro petis vidi Rune kaj nun vi diras al mi, ke vi ne estas hejme, kio okazas Y/N?” (“Where are you? you worry me, first the high lord asked to see Rune and now you're telling me you're not home, what's going on Y/N?”) She lowered until she was able to grab Eva’s hand, rubbing circles on her skin, reassuringly.

“Mi estas ĉe la nokta kortego, en Prythian, Loralen mortos baldaŭ kaj mi estis sendita por preni la novan altan sinjoron reen, ni ne havas la tempon por fari la tutan vojaĝon reen, ni devas alveni tien baldaŭ, la milito venas Eva.” ("I'm at the night court, in Prythian, Loralen is going to die soon and I was sent to take the new high lord back, we don't have time to make the whole trip back, we have to get there soon, the war is coming Eva.") Her voice a few tones down as if talking about the war made it come faster, she didn't want to drag her friend into this but if the high lord already spoke to Rune, the coven was already involved.

“Mi pretiĝos kaj mi…” ("I'll get ready and I...") Evanore’s voice was cut in the middle of the sentence and she was dragged back to the real world, her orbs going back to normal and she had a little bit of blood coming out of her nose, she felt tired, the connection needed a lot of energy, especially since she wasn’t a witch, her necklace stopped glowing, being the source of the connection, she heard a voice but couldn’t focus on anything, her head hadn’t stopped spinning yet.

Azriel snapped his fingers in front of her, he called her name but she didn’t answer, her eyes slowly closing as she collapsed on the floor, he got desperate, placing his hands on her back and under her legs before lifting her and carrying her to her bed. He placed her gently, at least she was still breathing, he finished blowing out all the candles and looked at the weird symbol on the ground, his heartbeat starting to get normal again.

He was walking to his room when he noticed the dim glow of the candles and the cobalt light coming from under her door, he never saw such a thing when he opened the door and to be honest if that was what witchery looked like, he hoped he didn’t have to see it anytime soon, his heart was beating incredibly fast and his shadows danced frantically around her like they were also worried that she might be hurt. He didn’t know what to do, so he just kicked one of the candles out of the circle, which seemed to work as her beautiful brown eyes were visible again as she breathed with difficulty.

Azriel stood by her side for a couple of minutes, watching her chest moving up and down, his eyes scanning her features, the way her lips slightly curved down, almost frowning like he did, her thick, black eyelashes and the full eyebrows, she had a red blush on her cheeks and some freckles on her defined nose, her long hair a mess around her, she was so beautiful but Azriel couldn’t stop the feeling that was growing on his chest that this female was nothing but trouble and he should keep his distance.

She blinked a few times before her eyes focused on him, she tried to sit on the bed, her head pounding with a migraine, he quickly got up, his scarred hands holding her as he helped her, they were so close, he smelled like night and stars, the kind of smell she had never felt before, she blinked a few more times, her throat dry as she tried to speak.

“No one was supposed to enter the room.” Azriel scoffed, why she was so interested in putting herself in danger? First Bryaxis and now this.

“Are you serious? There was blood coming out of your nose and you looked like you were in pain.” She wiped the dry blood with her sleeve, but it was useless. He got up, walking fast to the bathroom, getting a wet cloth, and handed it to her as he sat again, she wiped once more, this time removing it.

“I didn’t mean to scare anyone, but the magic has its price. I was talking to Evanore, with Rhysand’s approval, she should be here soon to escort us back to the court.” Azriel nodded, he knew the moment to meet his new home was coming but he was still a nervous wreck every time he thought about it.

“But we still need to find Feyre first, I told you that.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“With Eva here, she can find your friend faster than anyone, she would gladly help.” Azriel looked at her, she had been nothing but honest with him in these past few days, if her friend could help, he would bring her here, anything to help relieve the pressure on Rhysand’s shoulders.

“I’ll talk to Rhys later, now you should rest.” He said, getting ready to leave.

“Yes, my lord.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Don’t call me that, please.” She nodded and he left her room.

3 days later

“That’s a beautiful place.” Evanore’s eyes roamed around again, her blue eyes scanning the dark wooden furniture, she had arrived only 2 hours ago, Azriel had asked Rhysand if she could go to the Night Court, as soon as Azriel told him she could help find Feyre, he was more than willing to allow it.

The female that materialized in the Townhouse had kind blue eyes, a soft airy voice, and hair so light that it was almost white, she was wearing a green dress and some chains with crystals on it, she had a lot of questions, the small female asked about every little thing she could possibly ask.

“She doesn’t get to leave the forest much.” Y/N whispered to Rhysand as they walked to his shared bedroom with Feyre, he giggled, he could see why she had so many questions then. His violet eyes stopped on the small figure shivering, she walked in silence to the study desk in the corner of the room, her long fingers grabbing Feyre’s discarded sketchbook, flipping the pages, her eyes closed, the temperature in the room dropping significantly.

“Malvarma! Frostas, ni devas esti rapidaj aŭ eble tro malfrue, ili ne plu povas batali kontraŭ la senfina aŭtuno." (“Cold! It's freezing, we have to be quick or it might be too late, they can't fight the endless autumn anymore.") Her voice was rushed, worried, and Rhysand didn't have to understand what she was saying to know, Feyre was in danger.

He yelled in his mind, calling his brothers and telling them to meet at the town house, Y/N had disappeared and the witch was sitting on the floor, a bow she had conjured in her hands, the Illyrians almost broke the door on their way in, their swords in hands and siphons glowing.

"I saw a frozen lake, and fire and they need help." Her eerie voice sounded, she wasn't looking at anyone in particular, which made Rhysand more terrified. "I can take us there." At the same time she got up, Y/N rushed downstairs, swords behind her back and her hair in a ponytail.

"She's probably in Winter, I cannot go but I'll be waiting at the Moonstone Palace, bring her back to me, please." Rhysand was on the verge of tears, his mate in danger and he couldn't do anything to help. Evanore nodded and instructed them to hold hands.

“Iru.” (“Go.”) And with that they were gone, it was like winnowing but the difference was that they could travel long distances, the smell of magic was pungent and strong, making their stomachs spin, they had to take a moment to recompose as they landed on the lake, Y/N watched the red headed figures and the fire.

"Damned autumn rats." Cassian growled and started to run, the other three hot on his heels, an arrow flew close to his ear, and a low whistle ripped through the air, finding its place in the middle autumn heir, the Arrow pierced his skin, making it bleed violently as Evanore got another one ready, the arrow a perfect distraction to give both Feyre and Lucien time to increase the distance between them.

The days of running away were weighing heavily on them, they barely had the strength to keep standing, Feyre almost sobbed as she saw the red glow rushing past her, Azriel, and an unknown female walking past her like smoke.

"Oh Mother, Lord Rhysand will be sooo happy to see you." The voice was soft and as Feyre turned, a female was looking at her, the tears already spilling at the mention of Rhysand's name, she missed her mate so much, she needed to see him, to feel him, she wanted to go home. "Y/N, CAN I TAKE HER BACK?" The female yelled, startling Feyre.

"GO, WE CAN TAKE THOSE ASSHOLES DOWN." Y/N yelled back, her sword hitting Eris's side, he was so surprised to see her back, as always, he was right and she was working with the Night Court.

"Let's go then, are you joining us?" She turned to Lucien who politely declined, ready to join the fight again. "Alright, see you later." The blond female blinked at him, before disappearing with Feyre. His eyes landed on the fight in front of him, or better, the lost battle, Eris was on the floor, the female stepping on his chest while she held her sword to his throat, Azriel had disarmed Aubron's, the second youngest autumn heir had his hands up, afraid to move and Cassian had knocked Zeno out.

"Let's go home." Cassian commanded, Azriel knocked the male in front of him and Y/N lowered her body, punching Eris, leaving them unconscious so they wouldn't cause any trouble. As the males looked around and spotted Lucien still there, they shared an annoyed look. "I take him." Cassian said through gritted teeth and Azriel breathed relieved for a second. Y/N was cleaning the blood off her sword in her sleeve before she shoved it into the holster in her back, he approached her slowly, Cassian already flying away with Lucien.

"I'll fly you back." He said uncomfortably, she didn't say anything, just waiting for him, he pulled her close, his cheeks reddened as he lifted her, trying to keep his hands in respectful places, they flown, it was hard to focus with her so close, her sweet scent mixed with the metallic scent of blood intoxicating his nostrils, she looked around, clearly impressed by his ability to fly.

"Is this your first time flying?" His voice sounded awkward, she looked up, slightly jumping with the sudden question.

"Of course, we don't have winged people in Court." She giggled a little, and Azriel knew from that very moment that he liked that sound, really much. "It's quite an impressive view, I could do this often."

"I can take you flying anytime." He blurted, feeling his cheeks turn even hotter, embarrassment filling his chest.

"We can discuss that." She agreed and Azriel relaxed a little, the rest of the way was spent in pure silence as they reached the Moonstone Palace, the place was beautiful, the residence on the top of the mountain, the dark stone walls, everything perfectly matching the aesthetic of the place, Y/N liked that place.

Feyre and Rhysand were still hugging, ever since Evanore had brought her to him, he managed to explain everything Feyre missed while she was away, as Y/N and Azriel stepped into the living room, Feyre rushed to hug him and thanked Y/N.

"Thank you so much for rescuing me, I'm Feyre." Y/N accepted Feyre's warm embrace, the female seemed nice, the type of person Y/N liked.

"I'm Y/N Daera, General of the Nightfall army of The Court of Shadows, and now that you're home, it's time for us to get home." Azriel swallowed dryly, she had fulfilled her part of the deal, it was his turn now.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @allison-rosewood-maximoff

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #sarahjmaas #shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #night court #velaris #moonlightazriel #son of the darkness

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