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9 months ago

sparrow in the storm — ais

Sparrow In The Storm Ais

summary: ais becomes a sanctuary for not only one, but two little sparrows.

word count: 1.1k

content warnings: gn!reader ✦ established relationship ✦ fluff ✦ mild mild suggestive themes ✦ reader wearing ais’s yukata cuz its their god given right

notes: a while ago, @hollana sent me cute ask one + ask two and @danger-bird made adorable fanart for it. they really made my entire month! so this is dedicated to them :) this is also a birthday gift for @danger-bird, as today is their birthday today. i hope they have a wonderful celebration!

Sparrow In The Storm Ais

The bright melody of birdsong carried you out of the haze of your dreams.

So soft and sweet it was, it wrapped around you like a silken blanket, a touch warmer than the drowsy heat emanating from the fabric of Ais’s yukata that covered your entire body at the moment.

The birdsong was serenading in your left ear, so you languidly turned in that direction, your nose immediately brushing against the thigh of the Monster sitting upright beside you, cross-legged. You peeled your eyes open, and your world delicately smudged red from the eerie glow radiating from the waters of the Seaspring.

Between the cradle of his red horns, an actual sparrow was nesting in the darkness of Ais’s hair.

You stare at the bird for a few seconds, watching the crystalline rain droplets gather like gem clusters on Ais's head. “So you’re finally replacing me, it seems.”

Eyes closed, Ais smirked. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

You roll your eyes so hard that it's a miracle they didn’t become lodged in your skull.

You sat up and yawned, idly fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around your arms. “When did you even get a real sparrow, anyway?”

“She flew in with the storm,” was Ais’s soft reply, and you listen to the din of rain thundering the rooftop of the Seaspring like a barrage of fists striking down from the heavens, the cloudy light seeping in from the outside painting his bare chest in translucent silver splashes. “She was weak. Couldn’t leave her out in the cold.”

You smiled a bit as the bird, still singing its merry little song, fluttered down from his hair to nuzzle against his face. She truly adored him, no different than any other creature that falls in love with Ais when they cross his path. “So you let her nest in your hair?”

“Nothing is stopping you from making a nest yourself, sparrow.”

You roll your eyes yet again. Ais is the only one alive who can make you feel heavenly tenderness and agitation that burns hotter than any hellfire. “You do realize I’m not a real bird, right?”

Ais opened his eyes and turned his head to fully regard you then. Your heart skipped a beat once, twice, and a third time as he looked you up and down slowly as if caressing you with the sharpness of his eyes. You pulled his yukata tighter around your body, suddenly becoming shy. It was almost hard to breathe when his eyes went warm like that and became lovelier than crimson jewels glittering in the light of golden sunshine.

Ais hummed thoughtfully. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You blink owlishly at him. Then, incensed, you promptly smacked his shoulder, hot irritation and a sickening sense of warmth going to war inside you. “You are so incredibly annoying.”

The bastard began to chuckle, and his new songbird had the gall to chirp alongside him as if she were laughing at your embarrassment too. How dare that cute, feathery homewrecker?

…Okay, maybe you were a little jealous, but you would quite literally swallow a thousand teacup shards than ever admit to that, so you opened your mouth to say something particularly acerbic and snarky when suddenly Ais pursed his lips and whistled a colorful melody, cupping his hands together.

You and the bird both reacted as if Ais plucked the string of some latent instinct in your bodies. The bird fluttered down to rest in his large waiting palms, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in by his gravitational pull and the need to be near him and soak up the rest of his misty heat like a flower drinking the last dredges of summer rain.

You press into his side and watch Ais’s calloused thumbs gently smooth through the dandelion fluff of the bird’s feathers, the little thing happily thrilling all the while, before looking up at his face and feeling your heart melt instantly.

There was a certain radiance to Ais when he cared for something or someone. It was like trailing fingers along the surface of iridescent water, yearning to crack below the glowing surface to discover the beauty underneath. You know what you’ll find in those waters will make you feel whole again.

There was a softness to his gaze, a look you knew he reserved for you and you alone, especially when he thought you weren’t looking, embers sparking from the depths of his eyes, keeping you warm when you couldn’t do it yourself. You wanted him to look at you like that always, and you wanted his hands, the same hands that cradled the singing sparrow with a practiced gentleness, the same hands that held you with the same reverence, to always hold yours until the whole world rotten away.

“She has your eyes,” Ais murmured, resting his cheek on top of your head. You softly snorted but did not offer a rebuttal this time. You can let him have his delusions just this once. “You think she’ll let us keep her?”

You nod, and after he lets the bird fly back to her rightful place upon his head, you let him pull you into his lap. “I don’t see why not. It’s safer here than out there, even if it’s the scariest place I've ever slept in.”

Ais chuckled against the crown of your head, a rich sound that sent decadent shivers up your spine. “Y’know, I never had two singing sparrows live with me before. This is going to be nice.”

You snort softly against his chest. He was pushing it with this ‘who is the real sparrow’ contest. “Uh, what kind of song do I sing? I don’t consider yelling at you all the time to be particularly soothing.”

Ais hummed. “You sing a different kind of song, not the kind made for polite company but for my ears alone. I like how needy you sound when I -“

This was a learning moment to stop taking his bait.

You jerk your head back far enough to make contact with his sternum, and he lets out a short huff of startled breath. You pull his yukata over your face, desperately trying to hide the savage scarlet burning of your cheeks. “I hate you. I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake me up ever again. Have fun spending time with your new lover.”

Even when struggling to catch his breath, Ais still dared to chuckle at your red-hot embarrassment. You would’ve enjoyed the sound of his laughter if you didn’t want to strangle him to death.

Soon, the sweet melody of birdsong, the torrential storm outside, and Ais’s heartbeat—a firm and steady drumbeat against your ear—lulled you into a soft, safe dream where everything you desired was within reach.

Sparrow In The Storm Ais

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7 months ago

blood sport — ais

Blood Sport Ais

summary: you and ais indulge each other, in strange, strange ways. 

word count: 0.9k

content warnings: gn!reader ✦ canon typical violence ✦ suggestive themes ✦ blood kink ✦ rated A for Ais :)

notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY AIS!!!!!

Blood Sport Ais

The next time you see Ais, he is cracking open the skull of a thief as if it were a jeweled egg. 

You flinch and step away as blood splatter ricochets and dots the tip of your boots. You sink into the tired grooves of a wall against your back; a tide of red apples rolling out of your bag teemed around your feet. 

There’s a part of you that wants to turn away and squeeze your eyes shut, an anxiety-ridden voice yelling at you to melt into the worn brick and curl into the crushing safety of the mortar.

But there is a malevolent light sparking to life in the pit of your belly, an insidious thrill flowing like sterling water in your veins. You keep your eyes open to the violence and drink it all in.

You watch the thief crumple to Ais’s feet, body limp and shattered, like an oak tree felled by a raging thunderstorm, and you wrestle with the grim satisfaction singing inside you. 

Ais had lovely hands. Even if they were adorned in the red silk of blood, they were still a sight to behold, a cruel beauty. He studied them, the very ones that split open the scalp of a man as if searching for the white tissue matter that lay inside, and trailed the pad of his thumb over a bloodied knuckle in contemplative silence.

You try to be discreet with your glances as you knelt to pick up your apples. 

“Should be more careful,” he murmured, and his voice tickles like tendrils of smoke at the shell of your ear. 

You scoff softly, glaring up at his imposing form above you, a bruised apple clutched in your hands. “Careful is no match for crazy.” 

Ais tilted his head down at you, and there was a dark light to the curve of his lips, a soot-stained flame sparking to life. “‘Spose not. But I would prefer it if you knew how to watch your back.” 

The sun slithered down the horizon, stealing light from the world, blanketing everything in a velveteen darkness, but Ais’s eyes were warm, too warm, as he looked at you, the hopeful red sunrise before the break of dawn. 

You hate that you enjoy basking in it. 

From where you still knelt on the ground, you reached a bandaged hand out and pulled at one of his pant legs, gripping the fabric and tugging with more force than you ought to. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Stop being irritating and help me pick up these apples.” 

Ais stared at where your hand was placed on his leg, and you witnessed a shadow rushing to speckle the light dancing in his eyes. You felt a heady twist in your gut, hot like blood baking on the pavement in the sun. 

Ais sunk to your level, quite close to you, too close, on the girt and grim of the alleyway floor, and suddenly you felt both smothered and comforted, his musk enveloping you in a cloying embrace; the spice of cloves undercut with the metallic melody of blood, kissing your nose as if in affectionate greeting. The husk of blood that you smelled on his body made you feel warm and slightly dazed, red clouds filling your head.

Ais scooped one apple up, turning it this way and that, considering it in silence. You stared at him, stared at the redness of the apple that matched the redness of his gore-slick hands, of his bright crimson eyes, his existence, and his hands blood-staining the dark that surrounded the both of you.

His eyes slid over to you now, and there was something strange glittering in the shadowy depths of his eyes, dark embers flickering in the heart of them, sparking against your skin. You have never felt so raw and vulnerable; you have never felt so elated to be seen.

“Sure,” he said, and there was a lightness in his tone that belied the honeyed darkness that festered in his eyes, “but I’m afraid you’re in debt to me, little sparrow.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trepidation and excitement warring inside you. “Since when have I ever been in debt to you?”

“Since right now.”

Making use of his strength, the apple held in his hands was suddenly split into two perfect halves. The juices from the fruit snaked a clean river through the blood coating his hands, a sweet baptism of the violence, the crisp aroma perfuming the iron-leaden air hanging heavy above you.

Eyes not leaving your face, Ais lifted one of the apple halves to his mouth and swallowed in one whole go, quick yet silent. You were too stunned to question what he was doing when he raised the other apple to your lips, waiting. “Open up.”

You could see his bloody fingerprints marring the flesh of the apple, his scarlet whirlpools imprinting himself on the delicate fruit. You felt angry. You felt disgusted. 

But above all else, you felt very, very hungry. 

You open your mouth tentatively, and he slides the apple half into your mouth, almost tenderly. Your heart skipped a beat and your gut curdled at the taste melting on your tongue, at the bitter sugar of metallic blood and saccharine wetness of fruit exploding your senses and sliding down your throat. 

Ais hummed his satisfaction, his thumb pressed gently to your lips, ensuring that you consumed every little piece. “Good job, sparrow. Didn’t think you had the stomach for it.”

“You’re sick,” you muttered, but you felt yourself relax under his warm, crimson gaze. 

His bloodied thumb was still against your mouth, radiating heat. You fight the compulsion to suck it deep into your mouth and lick him clean.

Blood Sport Ais

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum


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