#I believe a part of her lives in Rose

[warrior-of-luna]

It'd be funny if at some point Rose started to act a bit like Miranda or say some wierd things

[hecatesbroom]

I just watched that s7 episode where Rose, Dorothy and Sophia will have to move out if Blanche doesn't make them co-owners of the house and oh.... oh my god. I knew Blanche's grand gesture would hit hard, but Dorothy's talk to Rose before then?? Giving her an excuse for why she has to say, only to shrug that off and softly tell her the truth ("we love you") and proceeding to tell the permit guy that they're family!! They love each other so much & they can't be separated!! Rose's face throughout the whole thing!! It's so much

[metacrisisdoctor]

"rose is allowed to still be in love with eleven/twelve/thirteen/etc"

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Everything I've Ever Written (on Tumblr)

I have been writing online since 2016. As a result, I have quite the few short stories listed below! They're all from different parts in my writing journey and I hope you enjoy.

If you'd like to read what I currently put out, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairy Tales

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Part 4 / Part 5 /Part 6

Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Destiny Universe

You Are the Demon King

The Hero and Hope (part 1) (part 2)

Being Villagers

Heroes and Villains

Therapist for Villains

Juniper and Discus

Self Destruct Villain (flash fiction)

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You Help Kill Heroes

You are the Shark Hero

Mist into a Tempest

The Civilian and the Reluctant Hero

No Heroes Here

The Spoiler (humor, flash fiction)

You are Legacy

Hero in Title

Dark Lord's Former Coworker

One Minute

The Fae:

You Become Powerful

Your Friend Takes Your Name

Larkin and Yvette

Debt Must Be Repaid (humor flash fiction)

Going to the Hill

The Fae are Free

When They Don't Know (submitted to elsewhereuniversity)

The Chosen One

The Chosen One's Parents

Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Amulet to Save Her

Hero's Apprentice (Flash fiction)

The Aftermath of the Chosen One

Wizards Stole My Brother

You are the Chosen One's Knight

The Chosen One is a History Major

You are the Most Powerful Magic User

Time Restarts and She Remembers

Better the Witch than the Kid

Witches

It Was in a Name

The Good Witch of Hawthorne

Berthe the Green Witch

Cursed Mold (flash fiction)

Love isn't Enough

I Can't Believe it's not Proper Adjudication

Devil Deals

The Devil You Know

The Ritual

They Summoned Her on Halloween (flash fiction)

Fairytale Retellings

Ariel and Ursula (age appropriate)

The Gods

Zeus' Son

Faith in Technology

Sci-Fi

Six Red Bulls and Persistence

The Sound of Silence

Emmaline and the Apartment

Humans are Vengeful

Humans Know War (that's why we have diplomacy)

Criminals Forced to Live on as AI (flash fiction)

Misc Fantasy

Wind-Speaker

Wind-Speaker and Her Wife

You Will Become

The Sirens and Leona (flash fiction)

Eldritch Princess (flash fiction)

Princess Maria and the Dragon

Princess Maria is Kidnapped

Immortals are Afraid of Change

Fiona the Dragon

A Violently Won War

Meta Stories

An Abstract Concept

Narrative Town

Narrative Town: Uncle Ralph

Princess Phaedra Breaks

You are a Horror Movie Villain

Ghost Stories

Malevolent Spirits

Your House is Haunted by an Anime Pillow

Don't Open the Door

Grandma's House

Who Is? (flash fiction)

A Face (flash fiction)

Misc.

You Choose Your Fate in Hell

Time Paradox (flash fiction)

You are an Assassin

Multiple Dimension Serial Killer (flash fiction)

An Exercise in Mary Sue

She Comes Back from the Hospital (tw eating disorder)

Roses and Evil (mental health flash fiction)

Big Brother

A Conversation About Anger

Punching Depression

Two Sides (flash fiction)

Immortal Serial Killer in Prison

Theater Romance (flash fiction)

The Lady and the Knight (flash fiction)

Different (flash fiction)

[loves0phelia]

Hi! I don’t know if you’ve watched part 2 of outer banks yet, and if you didn’t this request is a spoiler!!

Can you do JJ Maybank’s sister seeing him die and Rafe is just watching her break down and he’s comforting her while she cries in his arms? I’m sobbing over JJ right now 😭

Thank you!

Gone

Summery: outer banks season 4 episode 10/the anon

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS, death, grammar mistakes.

A/N: i also sobbed, i cant believe it and thank you for requesting love youuu.

The sandstorm hit suddenly. The air was thick, nearly solid with dust. You stumbled forward as the wind blew strongly, You screamed, begging JJ to come down before something terrible would happen but even if you pulled the scarf tighter across your nose and mouth every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass making it hard to speak. 

Everything was clouded and your goggles were smeared with sand dust. It was impossible to see your brother who was up high on that statue trying to find the blue crown you, the pogues and Rafe have been risking your lives for.

“Come down JJ!” You screamed as loud as you could, hoping he could hear you over the screaming wind. 

A surge of panic rose in you, he wasn't listening, only going higher and higher to reach the top.

“Hurry please!” You screamed again as the sandstorm was getting worse and worse. Squinting your eyes you could see JJ finally descending the statue after a while, carefully holding on to the rock.

“JJ, holy shit are you okay?” You rushed forward to him as he stumbled around frantically.

“I'm good! I'm better actually, I'm great. Look!” he yelled over the storm and held up the blue crown, it felt like a dream having it in front of you.

“No way, you found it” You both looked down at the dusty historical crown in silence for a second, sinking in it the victory that was so rare when it came to you and your twin.

“We got it!” He cheered, pumping his fist, jumping into place from all the adrenaline. The victory cheers didn't last long though, the next thing you knew shots were fired at you from the group who wanted to steal what was rightfully yours.

“Run, run, run” JJ shouted behind you as you ran through the sand blindly and desperate to find shelter.

The sandstorm roared with life around you, Yours and JJ's footsteps vanished almost as quickly as you made them, erased by the wind.

You coughed, your lungs stinging as you struggled to run down the stairs you had found leading inside the monument. 

But suddenly, a shadow appeared out of the storm. A strong hand gripped your forearms and in a sudden movement, your back was pressed on your “father's” chest, an arm around your neck holding on tightly, cutting your airflow and a sharp blade pressed into the side of your face.

“JJ!” you called out, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Let her go!” JJ shouted, his voice trembling with anger. He lunged towards you trying to rip you away from him but he only pressed the blade harder making you cry out. But Groff only shook his head.

You cried, struggling, and your heart pounding as Groff’s grip tightened. You fought against him, but his hold was unbreakable.

“You’re just like your mother,” Groff hissed, his gaze cold and unmoved. “Always standing in my way. Well, this time, you’re not going to stop me. Give me what I want”

“Let her go” He begged.

“If you had listened, we wouldn't be here JJ, you could have had everything. WE could have had the life we deserved as a family. All three of us. But now you get nothing. Nothing at all” Chandler pants like a maniac.

“I already have everything,” JJ says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have everything I ever wanted. You want the crown? Sure, take it. I don't want it. Just let my sister go.”

“Give it to me, hold it out” He reached toward JJ for the precious object, his grip on you not loosening.

In a swift moment, an exchange was made. Groff grasped the crown, and JJ pulled you out of his arms.

“I got you” JJ breathed out with relief, like a weight was removed from his shoulders. He hugged you protectively. Holding your head against his shoulder like a shield. But then again, the victory was cut short.

“JJ, y/n” you were interrupted by the voice of your father, his call made both of you separate and turn to face him, JJ’s body still shielding you from further harm.

“It's a shame…you and I” You furrowed your brows and a gasp came out of your mouth when the sound of flesh being pierced rang out. 

“You should have given me the rope” Time was moving at a slow pace as the scene unfolded. Groff twisted the knife in JJ's stomach before pulling it out rapidly and running out into the desert.

"JJ!" You screamed, your voice raw with terror. You saw JJ stumble back, his hands flying to his side. Dark red blood was spreading through his shirt and across his fingers, and the sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

The world narrowed to the scene in front of you as you watched JJ fall, his face contorted in pain. 

“No, no, no” you cried, desperation thick in your voice.

You rushed to JJ’s side, catching him just as he stumbled. He looked up at you, his face pale and stained with tears.

“It's okay JJ, it's okay” You pressed into his wound, shaking terribly, sobbing when he let out a pained groan.

“No, please” you murmured, pressing your hand over the wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”

“Hey, hey,” He whispered, his voice breaking. “Take care of the others for me, okay?”

“No! No” Your breaths shakes, your chest tight with sadness.

“I love you, y/n. You're the best sister anyone could ever have.” His gaze was beginning to drift, his eyes unfocused, and the strength in his grip was fading. Panic clawed at you.

“I love you, please don't go” you begged, but it was pointless he was already gone.

“No! No, no. Please! JJ, please” you shaked his shoulder weakly.

“John B!” You screamed, your chest burning from the lack of oxygen your lungs were getting.

“Pope! Rafe!” Your hands gripped your brother refusing to let go.

“Please JJ!” Your heart shattered completely, a part of you gone forever. Your brother, your twin, your best friend, the other half of your soul, gone. 

“Please” You pressed your forehead against him, your tears falling over the blood-soaked shirt.

The pogues came running towards you, sinking to their knees, calling out to him, crying, sobbing, mourning.

Everything in you gave out as you held onto him, you couldn't even fight when hands grabbed onto your shoulder to bring you away from your brother's corpse.

Your body fell limp into Rafe's lap. His hands held your body up as if he was your lifeline. 

“It's gonna be okay” He whispered against your forehead but you barely registered any of it, only sobbing, and screaming in pain against him. 

The Pogues stood in a tight circle, all eyes fixed on JJ as if somehow their stares alone could bring him back. But no one spoke, and in the heavy silence, the truth crashed over them, settling deep in their bones. JJ was gone.

Kiara’s shoulders shook, a small, trembling motion that quickly overtook her entire body. She fell to her knees, hands pressed to her mouth as she fought to hold back the sobs. 

Pope was beside her, his eyes frantically looking over the scene, he didn't want to believe any of it, as if it was a cruel joke.

John B stood, rigid.  His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, and his jaw was set, teeth gritted as he tried to hold it all in, to keep the pain from breaking him apart. 

Rafe's arms wrapped around you gently, his hand resting on the back of your head as he let you fall into his chest. You buried your face in his shoulder, the grief and sorrow pouring out in waves as he held you.

He didn’t speak of the rivalry, the old wounds and the bitterness between your families; none of that mattered now. At this moment, all he saw was your pain, and he was there, his own heart breaking a little as he watched you crumble.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you weak and exhausted, Rafe pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with something you’d never seen in him before—softness, understanding. 

“It's okay,” he murmured, his voice a promise, his hand gentle as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

You sat on the sand as a fire crackled in front of you, you had just buried him, the silence was thick nobody wanted to believe the truth. 

Your head pounded, even when you were softly laying on Rafe's legs using them as pillows. His calloused fingers gently rubbed your hair and you tried to concentrate on the movement in an attempt to forget about the previous moment but you failed.

“Groff said he was going to Lisbon” Rafe whispered above you, making your eyes open and looking up at him. His eyes met yours and he continued.

“If he was my friend or my brother… I would go after the guy that just killed him” The mention made your heart burn but he had a point.

“He's not wrong” Kie whispered, agreeing with your inner thoughts. You snuggled against Rafe's legs one last time before sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“JJ would already be on his way to kill him if it was one of us,” you said and everyone's eyes snapped towards you, those were the first words you had spoken since it happened. 

“He'd get even,” John B added.

“Let's get revenge,” you said, your voice more confident than it was before, you felt a hand grasp onto yours and slowly you turned your head to face Rafe. He nodded and tightened his grip in a comforting way, never letting go.

Send request please xx

[justaz]

country bumpkin merlin not knowing anything about city life and accidentally courting arthur without knowing

merlin, watching gwen give lancelot her favor: why do you do that

gwen, heart eyes at lance and not paying that much attention to the conversation: so he knows i’m rooting for him

merlin, with an Idea: ah.

gwaine, lover of chaos, pisser offer of nobles and royals alike, ultimate wingman: merlin…you have such lonely lips. shall i introduce them to mine?

merlin, unaware of the game gwaine is playing: so you can steal my breath away? i think not, scoundrel

arthur, crushing his goblet in his hand:

merlin: arthur’s been in a bad mood recently :( i should cheer him up

merlin, remembering when arthur was put out when merlin brought morgana flowers and not him: i know just the thing

merlin, bringing a bouquet of carnations, roses, and tulips and setting them on arthur’s table while he’s eating breakfast: good morning, sire

arthur, trained on flower language in hopes that one day when he was to take a queen he could woo her easily, trying not to audibly choke on his sausage as he reads merlin’s declaration of love sitting in front of him:

arthur, who recently found out about merlin’s magic and was trying to find a way to bring it up, catching him in the act and watching merlin panic to explain himself:

merlin, Freaking: and i swear to you arthur, i have only ever used it for you. my magic is yours. my life is yours. i am yours. i would never do anything to harm you. i have protected you for years and will continue to do so at your side if you’ll have me

arthur, already believing them to be courting, desperately trying to figure out if that was a proposal for marriage or not but tired of being confused and deciding fuck it: here.

merlin, taking it: i…uh…huh?

arthur, watching merlin with hawk eyes and trying to figure out what he’s thinking and feeling: it’s my mothers sigil

merlin, confused as FUCK but is focusing on the fact that arthur is handing him something of his mother rather than a death sentence: my…my lord?

arthur, realizing how scared merlin’s must be about him finding out about his magic and trying to comfort him while also proposing, killing two birds with one stone: i will always keep you at my side, merlin, so long as we both shall live. if you’ll allow me.

merlin, almost collapsing with relief and tearing up, smiling at arthur as if he had parted the storm clouds to allow sun to shine down on them in that moment: of course…of course, arthur. always and forever.

merlin, watching the castle staff rush this way and that: wow. this banquet must be incredibly important

sir leon the long suffering, day one ride or die, one of the original merthur shippers: banquet? merlin, this is for your wedding

merlin, overworked and exhausted: my WHAT? to WHO??

leon, regretting everything he’s ever done in his life that led him to this moment: to…arthur?

merlin, over joyed but also absolutely befuddled: i’m getting married to ARTHUR?????

leon: you two have been courting for the past year or so, have you not?

merlin: i’ve been COURTING ARTHUR?????? FOR A YEAR?????????

[hycinthrt]

i love how a big part of elizabeth bennet’s character is that she is obviously very smart, she is very observant, but she can easily be led astray by her preconceived notions, by things that she already has convinced herself of believing. and this is most obvious by her not seeing mr. darcy’s proposal coming at all, because girl that man was openly flirting with her. i don’t think this is shown a lot in the movie or the tv series, but he keeps teasing her, answering her witty remarks with a smile, the whole ��i am not afraid of you” thing. like, charlotte saw it coming, colonel fitzwilliam definitely saw it coming, the gardiners knew as soon as they saw them together later in the book, mr darcy was not as subtle as he thought he was being

seriously, god bless you jane austen for giving us this romance of two fucking idiots constantly misunderstanding each other’s actions and intentions. god bless you for giving us mr “aha so like what do you think of your friend’s marriage? you wouldn’t mind living away from your family when you marry right? oh, no reason, no reason, just a random thought. and what do you think of rosings, you know if hypothetically you were ever a guest there, no, no reason hehe”, and miss “i wonder why i keep coming across mr darcy during my walks, i even made sure to tell him that this is where i usually take my walks so he can avoid me but we are still??? running into each other???? and he keeps asking me all these strange questions too, what a weirdo”

just, two idiots that were made for each other

[chansaw]

i read donald sutherland’s letter to gary ross pleading for the role of president snow and was so struck by his eloquence, wit, and humor. i’m posting it in full below. what a loss </3

Dear Gary Ross:

Power. That's what this is about? Yes? Power and the forces that are manipulated by the powerful men and bureaucracies trying to maintain control and possession of that power?

Power perpetrates war and oppression to maintain itself until it finally topples over with the bureaucratic weight of itself and sinks into the pages of history (except in Texas), leaving lessons that need to be learned unlearned.

Power corrupts, and, in many cases, absolute power makes you really horny. Clinton, Chirac, Mao, Mitterrand.

Not so, I think, with Coriolanus Snow. His obsession, his passion, is his rose garden. There's a rose named Sterling Silver that's lilac in colour with the most extraordinarily powerful fragrance — incredibly beautiful — I loved it in the seventies when it first appeared. They've made a lot of offshoots of it since then.

I didn't want to write to you until I'd read the trilogy and now I have so: roses are of great importance. And Coriolanus's eyes. And his smile. Those three elements are vibrant and vital in Snow. Everything else is, by and large, perfectly still and ruthlessly contained. What delight she [Katniss] gives him. He knows her so perfectly. Nothing, absolutely nothing, surprises him. He sees and understands everything. He was, quite probably, a brilliant man who's succumbed to the siren song of power.

How will you dramatize the interior narrative running in Katniss's head that describes and consistently updates her relationship with the President who is ubiquitous in her mind? With omniscient calm he knows her perfectly. She knows he does and she knows that he will go to any necessary end to maintain his power because she knows that he believes that she's a real threat to his fragile hold on his control of that power. She's more dangerous than Joan of Arc.

Her interior dialogue/monologue defines Snow. It's that old theatrical turnip: you can't 'play' a king, you need everybody else on stage saying to each other, and therefore to the audience, stuff like "There goes the King, isn't he a piece of work, how evil, how lovely, how benevolent, how cruel, how brilliant he is!" The idea of him, the definition of him, the audience's perception of him, is primarily instilled by the observations of others and once that idea is set, the audience's view of the character is pretty much unyielding. And in Snow's case, that definition, of course, comes from Katniss.

Evil looks like our understanding of the history of the men we're looking at. It's not what we see: it's what we've been led to believe. Simple as that. Look at the face of Ted Bundy before you knew what he did and after you knew.

Snow doesn't look evil to the people in Panem's Capitol. Bundy didn't look evil to those girls. My wife and I were driving through Colorado when he escaped from jail there. The car radio's warning was constant. 'Don't pick up any young men. The escapee looks like the nicest young man imaginable'. Snow's evil shows up in the form of the complacently confident threat that's ever-present in his eyes. His resolute stillness. Have you seen a film I did years ago? 'The Eye of the Needle'. That fellow had some of what I'm looking for.

The woman who lived up the street from us in Brentwood came over to ask my wife a question when my wife was dropping the kids off at school. This woman and her husband had seen that movie the night before and what she wanted to know was how my wife could live with anyone who could play such an evil man. It made for an amusing dinner or two but part of my wife's still wondering.

I'd love to speak with you whenever you have a chance so I can be on the same page with you.

They all end up the same way. Welcome to Florida, have a nice day!

sourced from this article

[l-uminescent]

˚⁀➷｡˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part two.

synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.

notes: did i steal daemon’s plot? yes. did the reader do it better? also yes. fuck aemond targaryen (who is 22 here) for killing lucerys fr, and fuck tumblr for making me repost this bc they shadowbanned me :(

warnings: reader is rhaenyra’s daughter, angst, violence, mention of blood, future hotd spoiler (battle above the gods eye)

word count: 3.9k

ONCE UPON A TIME YOU HAD THOUGHT YOU HAD KNOWN WHAT LOVE HAD FELT LIKE. being betrothed to none over than aemond targaryen in an attempt to ensure peace between the divided targaryen house, had gave you a sense of hope. the childish crush you had on the one-eyed prince had long exceeded into your adulthood (unbeknownst to you for a long while). and the news that you were to be married to the man you had felt so deeply for, had you thanking the gods that you were to be so lucky. 

for much of your adulthood, you denied the feelings you had for aemond. brushing the giddiness you felt when you were younger off as a fleeting childhood crush. now, the crimson paint that adorned your cheeks you put down to a sense of duty; you had to act the blushing bride in order to do your part for the realm. your mother's constant reminders that it was you who could maintain the peace between dragons, made you believe it was a sense of duty to your house; to prevent the bloodshed and the path to destruction that would follow if blood was spilt. as time went on, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that maybe, just maybe, the small minuscule crush you had on the prince, in fact never left. you often reflected on the times where you had lived in king's landing with your family, often choosing to spend time with the second son of the king. you two were inseparable, where aemond went you were sure to not be too far behind. often, challenging each other on who would learn the most high valyrian words in a day, and who would learn the history of their ancestors first. it was a match the gods intended.

however, this sue for peace had crumbled completely. only a mere memory in your mind of what could have been if the targayren house was not so ignorant to the fact that women had much of a right to ascend the throne (you had king jaehaerys to uphold much of the blame for this decision). and now, the house was at war with one another. the dance of the dragons was surely to follow, leaving nothing but war across the realm and your poor broken heart.

the death of your brother lucerys did not seem to help with the feeling of heartbreak that effected life upon dragonstone. you spent many days and nights cooped up in your chambers. there was no one to turn too. yes, you sought comfort with your mother but she too was a shell of her former self. with jacaerys many miles north in winterfell, and your husband the murderer of such an innocent boy, you were left with nothing but your own reckless thoughts. as the sun rose in the east and set in the west day after day, your pain and suffering festered into a new, dark feeling within you. the sadness within was replaced with a craving of utter revenge. the lovesick girl, eyes wide with care and awe was shattered, replaced by a woman no, a dragon, who would go to any means to avenge the cruel death of her sweet younger brother. the love you had felt for the man you once were engaged to disappeared the moment you had learnt what he done; marring any chances at evading the war that was surely to follow. you swore to seek revenge with fire and blood. in whatever means the gods meant it to happen. 

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

the small council met as the sun lays lazily high in the sky, providing the normally dark and gloomy room with a sliver of light that is often uncommon on the island of dragonstone home to dreary weather most of the time. you welcome the sun in all its glory, soaking it in as you stand next to your brother jacaerys as you listen to the squabbles between the men as they discuss the course of action to take next. small crescents dawned under your eyes, reflecting the many sleepless nights you have come to known. the tiredness you feel currently now and all throughout the days since luke's passing has become an old friend to you, one that is begrudging to leave. you tune out, the effects of another sleepless night and your lack of interest in the bickering that is beginning to fester amongst the lords and your mother is boring you. instead, your eyes are captured by the ball of fire that lay millions of miles away. you weren't all that religious, if it came down to it you preferred the valyrian or old gods in favour of the seven. but there was no doubt the glistening embers that rained upon the room was a good omen. you were sure lucerys was looking down upon you, he adored the few sunny days on dragonstone, and this brought a small smile to your face. 

you hadn't realised just how deep in thought you were until your brothers voice broke you out of whatever hazy trance you were. despite tuning out, you had gathered the basics of the discussion - ser criston cole had set his eyes on rooks rest, and a dragon was needed to defend the castle. jacaerys' proposition to fly vermax was quickly shut down by your mother, deeming the boy as too inexperienced in battle and the dragon too young. 

"i will go." 

the words escaped your lips before you even had a chance to think them through properly. the feeling of revenge running through your veins was more than enough to spark this confident outburst. it had to be you who would go to rooks rest. you did not understand why this feeling was so apparent, whether it be the good omen in the sky, or the smile that had graced your lips for the first time in many moons at the thought of your brother being the one who sent it. but the need to take seat upon your dragon silverwing and fly to rooks rest settled in your soul as a desire you needed to fulfil. you knew immediately your mother would never agree to this, already refusing jacaerys to go meant there was absolutely no possibility she would let you go. 

"no. you too lack the experience that is needed in battle. i will not lose another child to this war." rhaenyra's voice trembled slightly with the mentioning of lucerys but she held strong with her decision to not let either of her elder children fly to battle. the mentioning of luke only feeding the fire in your blood, the need to seek revenge for his passing. 

looking up at your mother, you knew she had understood this as it was plainly evident on your face. alas, rhaenyra could not deny you had your mother's stubbornness and your father's strength. "mother, the entire council knows it is far too dangerous to risk the lives of both you and jace. queen and heir. send me, your grace. silverwing is used to battle and if war and bloodshed is sure to follow with the greens still bot bending the knee to you, then we must become acquainted with it." 

her eyes softened as she gazed upon yours, you reminded her so much of herself in her youth. the fire that burned within you mirrored that of hers. the want to prove yourself as more as weak was apparent, when many men had deemed you fragile due to the gender you were born as, you felt the urge to prove them wrong, just as your mother had felt, still feels with the many lords at the council who still see her as the weaker sex. she knew you were going to fly to battle whether she permitted you leave or not. and with a slight of her head you knew her answer. her lilac eyes gazing into yours with such intensity you knew the message conveyed. be safe, sweet girl.

another voice a the council spoke up, one you weren't expecting to hear. your grandmother, rhaenys. "you must send me as well, your grace. meleys is no stranger to battle, like silverwing. two dragons will be better than one, if the greens decide to also send a dragon to battle."

you were shocked that your grandmother was to fight so willingly for your mother's claim to the throne but yet, the more you pondered the less surprised you were. she too was a woman who should have ascended the throne, the queen who never was, yet king jaehaerys passed over her claim as a count of being weak as she was a woman. gods you hated the man sometimes. 

you were no stranger to the care of your grandmother. she knew straight away that her son was not actually your father, you were born a bastard, fathered to ser harwin strong yet she loved you nevertheless. just as coryls velaryon had favoured young luke, rhaenys, favoured you. your dark her reminded her much of her mother jocelyn baratheon and the way in which you clung to her as a child reminded her so much of leanor. she had grown to love you as you her, and refused to see you alone on the battlefield. 

"come granddaughter, we have much to prepare." rhaenys spoke softly as your mother dismissed the council, guiding you with her hand on the small of your back. giving one last nod to your mother, you notice the look of such fierce love in her. the promise of suffering she would bring if you were hurt. yet, the only thing rhaeynra could do now is pray to the gods above that her only girl would return to her safely. and by the gods she did.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

silverwing was just as mesmerising as the day you claimed her at the tender age of  ten and three. her silvery scales often reminded you of the stars that hung from the sky. glistening intently as you often sat at your window deep in thought. such a docile creature, you could not help but fall in love with her kind nature; a dragon who was most friendly to strangers. as you approached her now a small smile once again graced your lips. the she dragon bent down to greet you, pressing her snout to your hand in a sign of understanding. the intelligence of the dragon was also something that had drawn you to her, she was able to sense every emotion you felt. she had known you were grieving and did not hold it against you that you had neglected to visit her. instead, she blew smoke from her nostrils, and you could have sworn she wore a toothy grin. silverwing was glad you had returned to her. 

flying your dragon had somewhat eased the dull ache that seemed to have made a permanent home in your heart. the ocean beneath you and the wind in your hair brought a sense of relief. this was home. you had miss flying your dragon across the realm, watching as the landscape beneath you changed from countryside, to villages, to oceans and to cities. it was freeing. as fast as she was, silverwing was no match for the speed in which meleys, your grandmother's dragon, flew. as she soared effortlessly through the sky, your dragon tried her hardest to keep up. 

"don't push yourself silverwing. meleys is a fast dragon. " you uttered calmingly to your dragon in high valyrian, stroking her scales softly in a show of comfort. oh how you missed speaking the language too. "calm my sweet girl, it will be okay."

as you finally caught up to rhaenys, the two dragons held pace with one another as you surveyed the fields below. ser criston cole's army had been spotted approaching rooks rest. the elder women held your eyes. a message passing through the two of you to get this done as quickly as possible. and with a cry, meleys delved to the army, silverwing not far behind her

a mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through your veins. you were petrified at failing the mission and returning to your mother's disappointed face with the castle in the hands of the greens. yet the pure adrenaline of gaining your revenge from those who supported the man who usurped your mother's throne and took your brother urged you to keep going "attack silverwing." you called out causing the dragon to plummet to the ground to attack those below.

the field that was once riddled with soldiers was now nothing but flame and smoke. red heat from the lips of your dragon had engulfed almost the entirety of the battlefield. the flames below you were nothing of the flickering of the candles in dragonstone that brought you comfort. no, the flames you caused mirrored the emotion inside, the intensity of the anger you felt, the betrayal from the man you once loved to cause this amount of pain. 

a sound you had not heard in a long time broke you out of your rage induced comatose. you froze, the greens had come for you. looking up, you recognised the gleaming golden dragon belonging to the usurper king aegon. sunfyre. your anger had only intensified at the man willing himself to fight against you and your grandmother. doubling around the castle, silverwing dipped her sharpened claws into the ocean's water, ensuring a clean cut against sunfyre before rising above the cliffs face, ready for battle. he was no match for that of silverwing and meleys.

despite the adrenaline within, you could not help but worry for your grandmother, as you watched the flames engulf both her and aegon as the dance begun. the women held a dear place in your heart and the image of her being hurt was enough to push you to attack the sun kissed dragon. flying to meet your grandmother, silverwing allowed herself to flip and glide between the flames aimed at you both. the bellows of aegon left a satisfying smirk upon your lips as meleys claws took hold within the belly of the enemy dragon, as you willed silverwing to attack the dragon's wings from above. clawing and scratching at sunfyre, silverwing and meleys both have seemed to have done immense damage to the golden beauty. chunks of the dragons wings had been ripped out and cuts adorned her body, red blood oozing out of her scales. the final blow had been dealt by your grandmother, yet war was far from over as a sickening roar had been heard beyond the trees.

aemond taragaryen had come out to play.

your breath hitched, letting you only to take only shallow breathes as vhagar descended from the trees. you tried to be brave, tried to hold back the tears that were evident in your glassy eyes yet you couldn't. tear drops sprung like rivers cascading down your terror-stricken face as you saw the shining silver hair of the man who had once been the love of your life, and subsequently the reasoning behind all your pain. wrapping the leather reigns that kept you in control of your dragon, you urged her to continue flying around rooks rest. the wind blew harshly as you circled the ashy landscape, drying your tears and making whatever was left stick to your reddened face. as vhagar descended upon the battle in the sky,  hought's swam through your head as you shouted at your dragon to attack, you wished away all feelings of dread. 

in that sliver of calm, you could not help but feel drawn to the sun as it had once again graced you with its appearance. and with lucerys velaryon looking down on you, you knew the gods wanted you to have your revenge in that moment. they had brought aemond to the battle for a reason after all.

flying up to sit side by side with rhaenys, you allowed the hatred in your heart to take over. the fire in your blood burned at the audacity for aemond to dare show his face after all that he had done. 

"it has to be me grandmother." you shouted over the howling winds in high valyrian. the distaste within had spoken clearly, it had to be you who destroyed the man in front of you. you knew rhaneys understood that, but you also knew she carried the same stubborn nature that all targaryen's had come to possess. plowing into vhagar first, it was obvious she was no match for the queen of dragons. sending waves of fire to the boy riding her, melyes took the moment of distraction to tear at the beast's stomach. 

unbeknownst to you, sunfyre had risen again at the sound of vhagar's approach. seeing the flame grown in the dragon's mouth, rhaneys abandoned the attack on the larger dragon, instead focusing on the dragon mere inches from you. ambushing her from the side, meleys' jaws clamp around the neck of the usurper's dragon. in a state of shock, you forced silverwing to the side, gratefulness gracing your features at your saviour. 

nonetheless, it was plain to see that both meleys and silverwing did not hold enough power to over through the two dragon's that had come to fight. with rhaenys preoccupied with the second coming of sunfyre and aegon, it had left you with the battled against  vhagar. having lived centuries you knew that you were no match for her. she had helped with aegon the conqueror's conquest and that alone had gained her much more experience in battle than your dragon would ever come to know.

reality kicked in like a knife to your stomach. understanding what you had to do sent shivers down your spine, but there was no other way.  to kill the dragon you must kill the rider. 

your mind flickered back to the many moments you had spent with aemond over the years. sneaking into one another's chambers at night to tell stories you have read in history books. the days spent in the garden giggling at the idiocy of your family. and as the two of you got older, you recounted the longing gazes in one another's directions, the stammering and blush that rose to your cheeks anytime he was near. the brushing of limbs at the feast as your grandsire had announced the betrothal. 

none of that mattered now. he had made his choice when he decided to slay his kin and you had made yours. 

gazing upon silverwing properly for the last time you spoke quietly "forgive me, comfort my mother when i am gone. i beg of you." the silver beauty squeaked in return, a note of sadness in her tone. she would miss you just as much as she missed queen alyssane, but she would honour your choice gallantly. "fly back to dragonstone when i am gone. i do not wish you to suffer the same fate, my love."

with your mind made up, you willed your dragon to fly to meet aemond and vhagar taking in a shaky breathe as you did. as silverwing glided through the air, her claw's tore through vhagar. nevertheless, the silver beauty had barely left any damage. vhagar's thick skin was almost impenetrable, only small surface wound were left behind from the attacks you inflicted on her. the only thing that kept you alive was your dragon's ability to stray so close to vhagar yet slip effortlessly beyond her reach whenever her jaws made an attempt to kill you both. 

allowing silverwing to deal with vhagar, meant that you were left to deal with her rider; your glassy eyes never leaving  the man who had caused you such suffering. he had grown you noted, his cheeks now hollowed out as if he has been struggling to eat, a dark crescent clear under his one good eye. the hate in your heart weakened, you had almost felt an ounce of sympathy at his obviously heartbroken state. you wondered if he had regretted his actions; had regretted pushing you away. you wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened that night, if he had really meant to kill luke on purpose. but you also knew you would wonder these things for the rest of your life if you let him live. no matter how much remorse he truly felt within you could never forget his actions, the way in which he took pride in what he did, bragging about being the first to spill blood in this horrific war. and that was enough for you to keep fighting.

pulling away from vhagar for a final time, you flew back around the castle unstrapping the saddle you had on silverwing, tossing it to the wind. unstrapping the sword, daemon had given you from your twentieth name day, you held it in your palm with such force that your knuckles began to whiten. as silverwing set her sights on vhagar once more, a final sound of pain came from your dragon as she knew what you had planned to do. knowing there was no way in changing your mind she flew above the dragon and its rider, positioning you perfectly in what you aimed to do. 

holding onto one of the many talons in her back, you allowed yourself to stand upon your dragon's back, the sword still tight in your hand. your eyes had never left that of the icy lilac that sat below you. the mix of fear and understanding stood in his, as he knew what you were about to do a second too late. the shock of realisation came as he tried to unfasten the straps that kept him tied to vhagar. she was too big of a dragon to move in time for what you were about to bestow upon the targaryen prince, and it was too high of a jump for him to survive.  

jumping from your dragon's back you let your mind to once again reflect all the love you had for aemond taragaryen. allowing yourself to find comfort in the fact that you had known love in your lifetime.

and as you drew the sword through him, you felt no remorse. a debt had been payed. revenge had been served. for luke.

but, there was no escaping the torment your heart inflicted upon you in the moment your sword pierced his only good eye. you had thought aemond would hold loathing at what you had done in his final moments, but all he felt was abhorrence for himself. driving you to the point of sorrow and grief where you had felt like you could do nothing more than seek revenge for what he had done. whispering a soft "i love you'' before you had pierced him, gave you the closure you had needed. those three words had answered all the questions that had played over and over in your mind, running rampant through your darkest hours.

the history books recalled that you had died peacefully with no call of a dragon to save you. you had plummeted to the ground with the man you had loved, knowing you had avenged your sweet innocent brother lucerys and had come to learn aemond had regretted his actions dearly. this was truly enough for you to die happily. and that you did.

[rayroseu]

Always wrecks me up that Meleanor is as forgotten as Knight of Dawn is, that even her son doesn't remember her.

Just like Silver, Lilia didn't inform him of his identity as a Silver Owl so that Silver can live without guilt of the atrocities his original kingdom did.

But, I think, in Malleus' case, Lilia and Maleficia (I think) didn't inform him too much about Meleanor's demise, not so much because they don't want to guilt Malleus about her sacrifice to him, that's a part of it, but I also think it was more so that his hatred for humans wouldn't go deeper. Especially since he was raised in the castle with only the Senates and pure faes who has limited interaction with humans, so naturally he grew disliking humans too (until he met Silver).

As we know, Malleus is very attached to his past, that's why in Book 7, he's having a hard time to let go. Even his interests mirrors his tight attachment to the past, i.e his fascination on history, ruins, antiques, abandoned places, etc.

I think in an alternate reality where he had knew about every detail that happened on Meleanor and Levan and the faes on Wild rose Castle basically, his view on humankind would be even more negative. He might even reject his invitation on NRC just like Gen. Lilia did. And, unlike Lilia, since Malleus always attaches to the past and not on the possible future, he might even never give chance that he can get along with humans.

I know its popular analysis that Meleanor and Malleus are different, but to me, they're fundamentally the same person, just raised in a different environment. Meleanor was never given a chance to see a good side of the humans, Malleus was like that for a bit, even in NRC, he still held his deep rooted belief that he really doesn't believe that humans would understand faes as Lilia hopes (Dorm Uniform Vignette). Malleus and Meleanor are the "same person" but Malleus just "had the chance to not know" the entire history of it, so that he can form his own opinion about it as he grows up.

Even if he grew up knowing it, it would be immature to stay on his hatred for humans for so long (I think Malleus would do this considering his trait of being attached to the past) and I think Lilia and Maleficia didnt want Malleus to grow up like that,, they must usher him to a better future yk.

Its just that its tragic that for Malleus to grow up and take a chance towards a better future, he has to forget major things about his mother and all the sacrifices that his family made, just so he wouldn't be "stuck with it. "

Maybe in a reality where Malleus does know every detail of his history, but just that, it would take a long time for him to let go of his guilt and hatred, that by the time he's ready to forgive humankind, Lilia might not be there to guide him anymore.

I think I read an analysis back then (or was it a legit line in game?? lol) that Malleus shouldve been in Briar Valley for just a bit longer instead of suddenly transferring to NRC where there'll be too many culture shock for him, he's just not entirely capable yet of balancing his feelings and power, but I think Maleficia/Lilia couldn't afford to have that much time to emotionally grow Malleus in Briar Valley, for the reason that by the time Malleus would be in control of his power and feelings, Lilia wouldn't be there anymore to guard him in NRC and guide him about human culture. (He says his magic weakens over the years)

I feel like Maleficia only agreed to take Malleus to NRC bcs Lilia will be there, he's the perfect guide for Malleus to have with in NRC, he's strong so he can physically protect him while also being a wise person that can teach Malleus about understanding humans while still upholding his fae values. Other guards wouldn't be suitable. Silver and Sebek are not fully trained, Baul is an advisor now not a soldier and he wouldn't be a great guide to have in human society lol So, she has to take that chance while Lilia is still here, even if Malleus is just "too young."

side note: what if thats also the reason why Maleficia let go of Meleanor to Wild Rose Castle alkfdklsd She trusted Lilia and Levan would protect her and they did yet even so.... 😭😭😭 I feel like its so tragic that everytime Maleficia let go of Meleanor/Malleus, they're always leading into a danger where she cannot reach and help them (on Meleanor's case, the communication on Black Scale and Wild Rose was disrupted bcs every envoy that Lilia and other soldiers sent to inform Maleficia that Wild Rose was besieged was all killed by the Silver Owls, so Maleficia knew too late. On Malleus' case, it would be too risky for her to just suddenly show up on Sage Island, it would leave Briar Valley in a very vulnerable state with no Draconia residing in their land, STYX is calling her to meet Malleus but I think many faes would disagree on their plan bcs that's exactly the type of situation that cornered Meleanor years ago, Levan/Malleus is lost and in danger so Meleanor/Maleficia has to save them, if you think about it in Briar Valley's view, it feels like a trap lol. It's not an easy decision to just let go of their only Draconia ruler to a human territory and on top of that, they're on the verge of losing one(Malleus). I wish they create a scene of the Briar Govt in the book, I'm sure the Senates are in ruins and regretting that Malleus went to that school or something, like its always STYX when its equally intriguing to know Maleficia and the Senates reaction to Malleus' overblot.

I find it really depressing that Malleus, like Silver, was born out of so much love from their family, yet they never knew the full scope of it (until now). 😭😭😭

[utterlyotterlyx]

Eden

Azriel x F!Reader

Summary - You had heard the rumours of the illustrious Shadowsinger, and you knew better than to get involved with him despite his eyes finding you. Though, everything changes after one fateful night, and you find yourself unwilling to be another one of his conquests.

Warnings - angst, swearing, mentions of blood, fluff, fuck boy to angel Az, jealousy, some sadness, suggestive tones

Based on this ask

Word Count - 11.5k (oops)

"You know that sleeping around isn't going to make your mate miraculously appear, right?" Cassian pretty much shouted across the table to Azriel, wincing and the loud thumping of the music and squealing laughter drifting through the dancefloor of Rita's.

Shrugging, Azriel continued to sip on his potent drink, so potent that it took the edge off of his misery for a few hours to allow him to enjoy being buried inside another female before he went home to only be surrounded by every single member of his family acting sickly in love.

At first Azriel only did it to forget about Elain and Lucien, at how she chose the fox over him, but then it spiralled into something more. It had become to poisonous and filled him with so much venom that he despised being around his family at all. He had moved himself out of the House of Wind to a small but cosy apartment on the outskirts of the city, mainly so that no one truly knew how many women he was bedding each week, but so that he could also escape the turmoil of mating bonds and happiness.

"I don't have a mate," Azriel admitted, truly believing that the Mother had chosen to restrict him of that single purity he had always yearned for.

His eyes scoured the crowd, trying to find a female he hadn't taken to bed yet, not wanting to fuck the same woman twice and lead her to believe that he wanted anything more from her than what he did.

"Don't say that," Cassian scolded lightly, frowning at his brother and worrying about the dimness laced in his eyes as they lazily dragged across the crowds. "She's out there, Az. You just have to be patient."

Cassian's words gave Azriel no hope. The Shadowsinger knew that Nesta disapproved of Cassian joining him in the evenings, and he knew that Rhys and Feyre were worried about his wellbeing, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

To care was to open himself up to more pain, and he couldn't do it again.

"No, I don't," Azriel downed the rest of his drink and rose from his place in the booth, rolling his shoulders and feeling his shadows peak up from behind his wings, just as solemn as their master. "You should get back to Nesta. I'll see you for training tomorrow," he mumbled, fixating his gaze on the woman he knew for certain he'd be taking to bed that night to forget how lonely he truly was, stalking toward her and leaving Cassian more worried than he ever had been.

There was something about clubs and alcohol that you despised. Maybe it was the way males kept on knocking into you without apology, or how they would lean in and shout down your ear in an attempt to get you to dance with them.

No. It was definitely the heat that you hated the most. How the sweaty bodies would writhe and pulse to the beat of the music with little care of the world raging on beyond the doors. A world you had ventured across to set up a practice in the Night Court, believing that it was where fate needed you to be.

"Loosen up, y/n," your slightly inebriated friend, Alana, childishly begged as she grabbed your hands and swung them in time to the melody. "This is your first night out since you got here. Have some fun."

Part of you wanted to listen to her, to truly give in and push yourself outside of the bubble of comfort your solitude had gifted you. It wasn't that you hadn't tried to, it was just that you enjoyed your quiet nights in curled up with a good book, and your days of healing and walking about the city. It was routine, and you were happy living within it.

Allowing Alana to twirl you around in the tight black cut-out dress she had forced you to adorn for the evening, you couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the most beautiful male you had ever seen as the world span. Stopping in your tracks, you watched his grin widen as a stunning blonde female wearing little to no clothing swayed against the front of his body, grinding her hips and ass onto him whilst his fingers tightened around her waist.

"Who is that?" Alana came to your side sporting a knowing smirk, biting her lip softly as she too watched the male move in rhythm with the woman in front of him.

Just as his lips floated downward, whispering and nipping at the shell of her ear, did Alana admit, "That's Azriel. He's part of the Inner Circle," her eyes moved to you, dragging from your feet up to your face, "And he'd ruin you, sweetheart."

"I'm not interested," you lied.

Alana saw straight through it, "Liar," she nudged, "There isn't a single unmated female in this city that doesn't wish that he wouldn't beckon them to his bed, and he's had many of them."

There was no way that you could compare to the woman in front of him, she had golden blonde hair and rouge painted lips, and she had a wildness to her that you'd never be able to own. And, like he knew that fact, his eyes moved upward to yours and you felt like he was searching the depths of your soul. The stare was so intense that you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and had no choice but to break the contact, and you felt his smirk rake over your body as you turned away.

For the rest of the evening, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop yourself from finding Azriel from wherever he was in the room. Women flocked around him, but it was clear that he had made his choice, and you had to watch as the woman sauntered from the bar, dragging him behind her for an night of ruin.

And all you could do was wonder what exactly that would be like.

Nursing a hangover and little to no sleep thanks to the blonde feline Azriel had taken to bed that morning, the last thing he wanted to do was train with Cassian, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he bailed.

So there he was, clad in his leathers beneath the scorching sun, regretting all of his life choices.

At least he found something new out, something that his shadows didn't deem necessary to tell him. There was a new female in the city, one who reeked of Dawn, who was as beautiful as a setting sun in the depths of summer. Azriel couldn't help but picture her face whilst he fucked that woman, imagining her lips breathless and perfectly rounded, imagining the smoothness of her skin under his touch, and the subtle waves of her hair spiralling down her back.

It seemed that his wish to know more of her was answered the moment Feyre and Rhys stepped onto the training grounds atop the House of Wind, muttering about a new healer that Nyx had become obsessed with.

"Nyx just adores her," Feyre spoke with wonder, clad in her custom made training leathers that Rhys had made for her. "He let her give him his injections, he won't let Madja close enough to even try."

Rhys hummed in response, smiling at the memory and clearly pleased by the being he had welcomed into the city, "Well, Thesan did say that she is the best he's seen in a long time. I'm glad that she's here. It means that Madja can retire now if she wants to."

A new healer? From the Dawn Court?

No wonder she was so beautiful. She had been born in the most serene court of Prythian, she had probably grown up with the Peregryns, and had been trained by Thesan himself.

Turning his attention back to Cassian, Azriel couldn't help but let his mind wander to the healer he had seen the night before. It was strange how he found her eyes, pools of innocent bliss gazing at him from across the room that he couldn't help but be infatuated with. He still felt the pang of disappointment in his soul when she had looked away.

Training ensued without any issues, and by the end of the session Azriel was sure that he was going to throw up whilst Cassian seemed as chipper as ever. Nesta must have been nice to him when he returned home last night.

Just as Azriel went to flex his wings and return to his apartment as far away from the House of Wind, and thus Elain and Lucien, as possible, the clearing of a throat caused his feet to stick to the ground. "Az, a word?"

Rhys stood a mere few feet behind Azriel and watched as his tensed wings folded between his shoulders before he slowly turned to face him. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Rhys narrowed his eyes, still anxious about approaching Azriel considering the last time he had expressed his worry it had caused Azriel to move across the city. "I have a mission that I need you to go on. It's urgent. There's been increasing reports from the mountain camps that wing clipping has made a return. I need you to verify it."

It was one of the few things that truly got under Azriel's skin, the removal of wings from Illyrian females, usually little girls. Wordlessly, Azriel nodded, turning his back to Rhys and stepping toward the ledge that would plunge him downward, "I'll leave this afternoon."

And with that, Azriel extended his wings and propelled himself upward, ebbing and flowing over the scape of the city and trying to pinpoint where exactly the new healers practice was located. He had even sent his shadows out to continue the search when he had returned home, needing nothing more than the wash away the sweat and stench of alcohol alongside the lingering teeth marks peppered along his collarbone.

It made him feel disgusting. Azriel awoke each morning with a different female coiled around her torso feeling less like a man and more like a personal whore to the women of Velaris. It was tiring, but it was the only way he could tear his mind away from the pits of his immortal loneliness.

During his preparations, his shadows returned singing their findings.

The Sidra.

Beautiful.

Angel.

Sad.

Azriel wondered what in the world could cause something so incredible to be sad. And he vowed to delve deeper into the female upon his return, to find out what was the cause of her sadness and rid her of it.

If he couldn’t fix his own life then perhaps he could fix it for someone else. Someone who deserved it.

The sun had began to wane by the time Azriel was ready to leave for the mountain camps, he was dressed in his usual leathers with siphons glowering under the descending light. He didn’t bother looking back at the mess that was his apartment, he was used to looking back and saying goodbye to Cassian, and ruffling Nyx’s black mass of hair whilst promising the child that he wouldn’t be long.

But he was alone now, he had nothing to look back to.

It didn’t take The Shadowsinger long to reach the mountain camps. He landed far enough away to not be detected and approached the camps on foot, taking the time to try and evaluate when his life had become so unsatisfying and lifeless.

Looking into the eyes of that woman across the room at Rita’s was the first time he had felt alive, truly alive, in what felt like eons. And he was sure that he’d be chasing that feeling for the rest of his miserable days on the earth.

His wings were drooped at the tips, almost dragging along the floor, and his shadows continued on their melancholy journey slithering over his spine and shoulders before shivering and returning to where they had come from, searching for a speckle of warmth.

It was only when he heard the cries echoing from the centre of the camp did he truly focus on why he was there. The cries were whimpering, pleading, begging whoever it was to stop, and the voice was so gentle, so childlike and innocent that Azriel was beginning to lose the taut grip he usually had over his self-control.

Truthteller sang at his side, thirsty for a taste of blood, eager to take another life especially if it meant ridding the continent of another monster. Azriel was happy to indulge it.

Without wasting a moment, and without thinking, he entered the clearing in the centre of the camp and moved as fast as a phantom wind in cutting down the Illyrian males that deemed the barbarity acceptable, starting with the poor excuse of one that was towering over the cowering girl who had blood leaking from her ears and nose.

It was a bloodbath, and Azriel couldn’t bring himself to stop, not even when the arrows embedded themselves into his thigh and torso and caused his vision to blur. He could make out the pools of blood, and he could feel his shadows tightening around his limbs in attempt to get him to stop, and only when his breath became latched within his throat did he realise that there was no one left for him to maim, no one that would dare to face him anyway.

He hissed at the spreading pain being carried through his body, grabbing one of the three arrows and pulling it from his skin, smelling the arrowhead and cursing at the faint scent of nightshade laced to it.

Azriel knew that he didn’t have long, a few hours at most to make it home and get to Madja before the poison claimed him. Part of him wondered if there was any point, if living was something he truly wanted to do, but then he remembered her and the look in those beautiful eyes that had him craving life and adventure.

He decided to try. For her.

The last thing you were expecting that night was to be awoken in the early hours of the morning, when the moon was still alight in the star glittered sky, by a shouting High Lord and one of your assistants.

Your day had swam by like they all did, you healed, prescribed tonics, created balms and ointments from scratch, and visited the orphanage in the centre of the city, carrying out health checks so that everyone could rest assured that all of those beautiful children were healthy even if they weren't exactly happy.

Every patient that stopped by during the afternoon had much to tell you. After seeing you at Rita's the night before, they felt more comfortable in gossiping to you, realising that you were committing to their culture and activities. So you weren't exactly surprised when your fifth patient had something to say about Azriel.

You doubted that he even saw you through his drunken, lust-filled haze, but you saw him; you saw his hazel eyes lazily hooded and warm when they found you, you saw his lips tilt upward into a smile, and you saw the clear pain that lingered beneath the surface. Alana had told you, sternly, to not think of him, that he would be the ruin of you, but you couldn't help but think about him.

Now that you had the image of him, it was impossible to remove it from your mind.

Your mother would have scolded you for it if she were alive, she would have said that you had worked too hard and spent too long training to heal those who needed a kind touch to throw it away for some pretty male that hadn't even uttered a single word to you. She was right. As always.

Which made the entire situation a lot more strange, so strange that you had genuinely believed that you were dreaming when your assistant entered your bedroom above the practice and shook you awake.

"Y/N?" Priscilla asked, sheepishly shaking you before fumbling with her fingers at her front. "I'm sorry to wake you, but it's an emergency?"

Light spilled in from the slightly ajar door, and you could hear Rhys talking frantically from the floor below, his voice drifting up the stairs and into your ears.

It wasn't a dream at all.

You sat up quickly, causing all the blood to rush to your head, and you didn't bother to put any shoes on as you slid a plush cream cotton cardigan over your arms and barrelled down the stairs.

A gasp escaped your lips.

There lay Azriel on your examination table, blood smeared over his leathers and siphons, his skin pale and sickly, and his shadows limp in a circle above his head.

"Y/N." Rhys spoke, voice tense and wobbling, and your eyes snapped to him. He was also coated in blood, Azriel's blood, and the High Lord looked between you and his brother desperately. "Please."

Running your fingers through your unbound hair, your quickly threw it up into a loose set bun at the back of your head and quickly disinfected your hands before you moved to the Shadowsinger, to the same male who couldn't look more different than he had in Rita's.

"What happened to him?" Azriel groaned at the sound of your voice, not fully coherent but it was like he knew that it was you tending to him, and his shadow perked up for but a moment before slumping back onto the table.

Rhys was beside himself, raking his fingers through his hair and down the sides of his face. "I sent him to the mountain camps to verify a rumour," he told you, not wanting to give too much away, "He was shot with arrows, I think they were poisoned. He came back to us like this, barely breathing and mumbling some nonsense about wanting to look back."

"Did you bring the arrows?"

Within seconds, Rhys produced two of the arrows, and you noted that Azriel must have taken the third one out himself at left it in the mountains. You run your fingers along the wood, bringing the oaken arrows to your nose and scenting the oozing liquid coating the head.

"Nightshade," your voice faltered. It wasn't often that you saw anyone with nightshade poisoning, they usually didn't last so long, and the fact that Azriel had was a miracle.

You flew around the room, gathering various ointments, balms, and rags, ordering Priscilla to fetch a bucket of tepid water to keep his fever down.

"Azriel?" you called to him softly, and his head moved in the direction of his voice, "I'm y/n. I'm going to help you, alright? You just need to stay with me for a little while longer. Can you do that?"

A low whine passed through his lips, tugging at the strings of your heart, and you took that as his voice of agreement. Ordering Rhys to stand back and for Priscilla to press the dampened rag to his forehead, you began to work.

Slowly, you cut through his leathers to expose his chest to the Velarian air, noting every ripple and tense of his muscles and they writhed from the effects of the poison in his system. Without thinking, you rested your glowing palms against his abdomen, calling on every morsel of your power to dive into his veins and extract every drop of poison that lived within him.

Rhys and Priscilla watched in awe as the poison began to vacate his body through the entry wounds left by the arrows, they watched that black putrid filth run down the sides of his body and drip onto the stone floor. But you didn't stop, you wouldn't let a single tear of that poison live inside of him, and once the last drop had left him, Azriel opened his eyes and gasped.

The relief he was feeling must have been profound. His eyes trailed along your face, much enjoying this version of you than the one he saw at Rita's, noting the long lashes of your closed eyes as your power surged through him to ensure that his blood was clean. You didn't even realise that your eyes were closed until his clammy, trembling fingers curled around your wrist.

His eyes were weak and drowsy, he was rightfully exhausted, and you pulled your hands away slowly, the glow in your palms weakening more by the second. Then you moved your eyes to his face, his sickly pallid face and equally pale lips that were parted in shock.

And then you felt it, that golden thread withering in solitude connecting with its other half, entwining and thrumming in clear skies, burning gold in the pits of darkness.

"Mate." Azriel rasped, eyes wide and fingers fumbling to keep a hold on you, his thankful shadows trailing up your arms to steal the warmth locked beneath your skin.

You could feel Rhys' eyes on you, examining you, not knowing what to do or say in the moment.

"Right. Yes." Azriel's wounds were still open and angry, and that is why you couldn't fully adapt to what had just happened between you, not when you could feel his pain laced with hope flow down the freshly unlocked bond.

The rest of your work was done in silence. You applied thick balms to his wounds to urge them to close and disinfect before bandaging his entire torso and thigh, apologising when each wince would sound from his lips. And all he did was watch your face whilst you worked, he watched the furrow of your brow and the concentration within your eyes, and he realised why his mind was focused on you since the moment he had seen you.

You were his mate.

His mate.

His.

When you had finished, you turned to Rhys who was perched upon a nearby chair, observing in perfect silence, and beckoned him to follow you onto the porch of your practice, closing the door softly behind you whilst Priscilla continued to clean the blood and dirt from his skin. "He would have died if you had come five minutes later."

Rhys took a step toward you, "Will he be alright?"

Part of you had to admire Rhys for his care, for the way he cared about every member of his found family and how he would go to the ends of the earth to ensure that they lived, but another part of you hated him for sending Azriel to the mountain camps in the first place.

"He'll be fine. I suggest letting him rest, someone will need to watch him," your voice trailed off slightly, not knowing whether to offer or not considering the revelation that he was your mate, "I'll stop in and do regular checks over the next couple of days, but for now he just needs to be somewhere comfortable."

"I'll take him to the River House," Rhys promised, knowing that was the only place where Azriel could truly rest, and the only place where you could enter without having to go through the rest of their dysfunctional family. "How are you feeling?"

A thin smile tugged at the corners of your lips, "I'm fine."

"I meant," he took another step toward you, glancing down at the blood that now stained your cardigan and skirt of your night dress, "How are you feeling about Azriel being your mate?"

Peering over your shoulder and through the window, you saw Azriel looking up at the ceiling with a gentle smile on his lips. "I know who he is, his reputation. I'm someone who has given their entire life to be amazing at what they do, which means that I'm inexperience in other aspects. I don't think I'm the kind of woman that he wants."

Shaking his head, Rhys brushed against your side, "Trust me. You are everything that he has ever wanted."

All you could do was hum in reply, and you folded your arms over your chest to protect against the chilled winds as you stepped back inside, internally grinning at Azriel's effort to sit upright the moment you were back in his presence. You stopped at his side, "I've told Rhys to take you somewhere comfortable so that you can recover, and I'll stop by over the next few days to make sure that you're healing properly and that there aren't any side effects from the poison."

Azriel furrowed his brow, "But what about us?"

"Let's just get you healed first," you told him, doing your best to stay calming, "Then we can revisit everything else."

He wanted to say more, he wanted to take your hand and bring it to his mouth, he wanted to know what your skin tasted like on his tongue. He wanted to know everything he could about you, and he was desperate for it, so desperate that no words fell from his fumbling lips as he tried to force a reply.

Azriel felt like a schoolboy approaching his crush for the first time, and you noticed that the illustrious Shadowsinger was truly lost for words.

"You can take him now, Rhys. I'll come by in the morning."

"Thank you, y/n."

Azriel watched as you bowed your head to Rhys in acknowledgment, "Of course," you told him, your eyes finding Azriel one last time before all he could hear was the patter of your feet against the wooden stairs and smell the lingering scent of fresh berries and sweetened citrus.

Waiting for the morning was driving him insane already, but he would wait for you. He would always wait for you.

The morning had come too quickly, but sleep hadn't found Azriel that night, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the stabbing pains in his chest or the excitement bubbling in his gut at the thought of seeing you again.

After being fixed up, Rhys had winnowed them both back to the River House, Rhys refusing to let Azriel be anywhere else considering you have given him strict instructions to ensure an eye was kept on him, at least until he could walk on his own two feet.

He had forgotten how peaceful the River House was in his miserable meandering through life, he had forgotten its comfort, he had forgotten what it had been like to be around family. His room had been left untouched, his bed made and books still open on the last pages he had read splayed across the desk.

By the sunlight pooling onto his bedroom floor, Azriel could tell that it was nearing midday, which meant that you were going to be arriving any moment. Any movement made him wince, but he found enough strength to be able to sit up in the bed, he knew that you'd want to check the wounds beneath his bandages and wanted to make it easier for you.

His wings were tucked neatly behind his back, and his shadows were sleeping soundly atop his shoulders. Azriel was too busy watching them to notice the opening of his door, only realising that someone else was there when their scent worked its way into his bones.

"You're sat up," your voice was light and soft as you entered, medical bag in hand and dressed in a plain but beautiful taupe gown with low looped sleeves and a corset of brown leather. "That's a good sign."

Azriel's heart stopped at the sight of you, at your hair unbound but the front pieces held back by a cream coloured fabric headband, at the dress and the glowing of your skin in the warming sunlight.

With a small smile, you perched on the edge of the bed, unclipping the clasp of your bag and retrieving some small vials and tubs, setting them down on the bedside table and turning to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better," was all he could manage to say, completely mesmerised by the hue of your eyes in the light and shape of your lips, "Thanks to you."

"It's no problem," you told him softly, reaching for the bandages around his torso and taking your time in unwinding them.

In a couple of days he would be as good as new thanks to his other-worldly healing beginning to kick in, and you told him as such as you reapplied the balm and placed two patches to the effected areas on his torso, carefully massaging the balm into the wounds to make sure that it did its job.

"I need to talk to you," he took your wrist in his hand before you could move your attention to the wound on his thigh, his eyes were pleading to talk about something other than his pain, you could feel it flow down the bond that you were trying to adapt to. "I need to know where your head is, with us."

"The moment you looked at me that night was the first time I felt that someone had actually seen me, even if you were drunk," you spoke with a huff of amusement, "You looked at me, and then you took a woman home who is infinitely more beautiful and wild than I am, and then I had to hear everything that everyone says of you. Forgive me if I'm feeling apprehensive and would like to just focus on making sure that you live."

Azriel understood, truly he did, but that didn't make the words sting any less. "I'd like to show you the real me, if you'll let me." His heart thundered in his chest at your silence, and the nerves settled in his gut and swarmed within his heart that was beating for you.

Unable to deny those rounded eyes brimming with hope for a brighter tomorrow, you sighed, "Fine," you told him, "Once you're back on your feet, I'll give you a chance. Now let me work."

The tone of your voice made Azriel release your wrist and settle back into the cushions of his bed, and he didn't make a single sound whilst you worked on the wound buried into his thigh, applying the same balm and wrapping it up before giving him instructions for the ointments and tonic to help the pain. "Thank you for saving my life."

Your eyes found his again and you could have melted at the pure desperation within them, "Well, I couldn't exactly let my mate die now, could I?"

"Will you be back?"

Azriel observed you as you packed up your things, disposing of the bloody rags and bandages in a wisp of smoke. "I have some errands to run but I'll stop by on my way home. Is there anything that you need?"

"Just you."

Even in his state Azriel was a shameless flirt, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the innocent smile from taking over your face, but you couldn't stop the blush from prickling at your skin, and a part of you didn't want to.

"I'll be back later. Eat something and rest, you need to build your strength back up. The tonics can help with the rest and the pain."

Azriel tilted his head in your direction whilst you gathered the last of your instruments, clasping your bag shut and rising from the bed. He knew there was a reason why he had been drawn to you, why you hadn't left his mind, and it was because you were his mate. The one fated to be his. The one thing he thought he'd never be able to have.

And gods, you were the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

With a gentle and reassuring smile, you squeezed his forearm softly before removing yourself from the room and taking your time in making your way downstairs, dawdling in the halls to examine the artworks and ornaments lining them. Though, you weren't expecting to come face to face with Cassian the moment you moved from the last step.

He wore a shit-eating grin and stood before you with his arms crossed tightly over his chest whilst his eyes slowly drifted to the stairs and what, or rather who, lay resting on the floor above. "Always in the right place, aren't you y/n?"

Luckily for him, you had often been in the right places when he required some healing or tonics, whether it be for him or Nesta during her most recent cycle. "It's quite literally my job, Cass."

Cassian grinned and chuckled deeply, his orbs morphed into sincere and he cleared his throat, "Thank you for what you did last night. Azriel may be difficult but he's family. We'd be lost without him." He laid his large hand on your shoulder in thanks, it was light a weighted blanket, comforting in a way you'd never found in anyone else. "And," he began, sighing, "Rhys told me about the bond. How are you feeling?"

Dropping your shoulders, you shook your head slightly and looked toward the ceiling, worried that Azriel was going to hear what you had to say before finding Cassian's gaze. "I'll tell you what I told Rhys, and Azriel. I don't think I'm the kind of woman he wants. I've heard the rumours, I've seen the kind of women he takes home every night and I couldn't be more different to them. I'll give him a chance once he's better, but that's all I can do right now."

"I understand," Cassian smiled sadly, removing his hand from your shoulder and glancing down at the bag loosely held in your fingers. "Isn't today supposed to be your day off?"

Rolling your eyes, you lightly swatted his chest as you passed by, "Stop analysing my schedule, Cass. I never have days off anyway."

"How else am I meant to know when to come to see you?" Cassian called after you, unmoving from his place at the bottom of the stairs.

"You don't need an appointment to come and see me," you waved him away without turning around, pacing into the lounge and instantly feeling your confused mood lift when you saw Nyx wobblily walking about the room.

The small child, under the watchful eye of Feyre, instantly moved to you, babbling and reaching upward, and you swept him into your arms and felt your soul blossom when he rested his head on your chest. "He loves you," you craned your head to the side at the sound of Feyre's voice, a pencil was lazily held between her fingers and the sketchbook resting in her lap was kissed with the first swirls of grey, "Nyx that is, though I'm sure that Azriel does too," she spoke, setting her things down on the centre table.

"Well I only care about Nyx right now."

You were sure that Azriel could feel your joy and love for the child flowing down the bond, you seemed to be able to feel everything the other felt. His hope, pain, and blissful desires, and your exhaustion and innocent joys.

"I just want you to know that Azriel is probably the best of us," she began, rising to her feet and smoothing down the wrinkles in her skirt, she approached you, eyes flitting between you and Nyx with a serene smile, "He is patient and kind, courageous and gentle, and he has so much love to give. I think the recent period in his life was caused by the belief that he wasn't worthy of it." Feyre ran her fingers through Nyx's short onyx hair, "You deserve to see the real Az, in the way that we see him."

"Thank you, Feyre."

The High Lady hummed softly, "Always," you gently passed Nyx over to her, allowing him to grab your finger in his tiny palm in an attempt to get your arms wrapped around him again. "Are you going into the city?"

"Yes. I have some supplies and orders to pick up, and I'm going to try to enjoy the little time I get to spend by myself."

"Well, have fun. We'll be seeing you later? Why don't you stay for dinner?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"You're not," the deep voice of Rhys reverberated from behind you, his chest brushed against your back as he passed, heading straight toward his mate and child and kissing them both lightly on the forehead before turning his attention to you fully. "You save us all on a daily basis. You're always welcome here."

"I appreciate that," you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, wanting the ground to swallow you whole, "I should get going. I'll see you both later."

It didn't take you long to gather the supplies and orders that you needed for the practice, and once you had dropped them back of Priscilla, who admitted that the day had gone slowly, you decided to take a walk around the city. You browsed the endless bookshops and headed to the markets to see what garments they were selling, settling on a flowing ivory skirt and shimmering pale blue dress.

The sun was setting by the time you were done, bags in hands full of new treats for yourself as well as a new toy for Nyx that you had seen and couldn't not buy.

Scents of honey cured meats and roasted vegetables drifted down the stone path that led to the River House, and you could faintly make out the silhouettes of Rhys and Cassian through the window. And, like she knew that you were stood there watching, Feyre opened the front door and smiled at you, beckoning you closer.

Feyre took all the bags from your hands bar one, the one that you needed to take to Nyx who was already on his feet and swaying over to you the moment you stepped through the door. You knelt on the ground to greet him, the paper bag settled on the floor beside you, "I got you something today," you teased, diving your hand into the bag and retrieving the small stuff bat you had spied at one of the many market stalls that afternoon.

Nyx beamed, taking it from you and babbling his thanks as he moved into your arms, looking up at you expectantly to pick him up, and you did so without question.

"You spoil him too much," Rhys moved to sit beside you on the couch, watching Nyx with a faint smile as he played with his new toy. "Azriel is walking around. Seems that whatever you did is working."

"I would say that it's because of his own determination but we both know that was all me," Rhys laughed at your words, especially at how you had modified your tone to be Nyx-friendly.

"That it was," a sultry voice drifted through the air, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. You glanced over you shoulder, spying Azriel in the doorway with his hands buried into his pockets, looking as perfect as he had that night at Rita's.

His hair was messy, like he had raked his fingers through it with frustration, his skin was golden, and it looked like he had gotten some kind of rest given the disappearing bags that lingered beneath his eyes. The shirt he wore was unbuttoned toward the top, allowing you to see his still intact bandages and the tattoos that swirled the area. His wings were poised and neatly tucked at his shoulders, like he wanted to appear as unthreatening as possible to you.

Azriel appeared shy and sheepish, eyes floating through the room, finding Cassian and Rhys before landing on you and Nyx. So that was what the joy down the bond was, it was Nyx, it was a child that made you feel so light and happy.

Recognising the tension between you both, Cassian took the opportunity to plop himself down on a nearby armchair, setting his feet upon the table where Feyre's art supplies still lay, and spoke, "So, you two are mates?"

Closing his eyes, Azriel wanted nothing more than to punch his brother through the ground and into the realms of hell. Instead, he inhaled deeply, "Yes, Cassian," he gritted through his tensed teeth, noticing that you had chosen to take your awkwardness and pour your attention into Nyx.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?"

Slowly realising what Cassian was doing by the cock of his brow and slight smirk, Azriel decided to play along, "I'd like to take y/n out. I'd like to get to know her and see if she would like to accept the bond."

Cassian turned to you, innocent mischief laced in his orbs, "Y/N. Would you like to go out with Azriel, get to know him and figure out if you'd like to accept the bond?"

Rolling your eyes at his antics and slicing a glare to Rhys who had slightly sunk into the cushions of the seat, you replied, "Yes. I would."

"Great," Cassian shot to his feet with a clap of his hands which made you jump slightly, "Tomorrow. Az will pick you up from the practice."

"Fantastic."

"Amazing."

You and Azriel both spoke in unison whilst Rhys' foot tapped against the floor, raking his fingers across your mind and slipping into your lowered walls. I'm sorry about him. He's always been a meddler unfortunately.

You don't say.

The first date was going well up until it wasn't.

Azriel had arrived at the practice at sundown, flowers in hand, looking more incredible than you could have ever thought he could. It was clear that had spent the entire evening planning your first night alone together, he had taken you to the restaurant along the Sidra and had spent most of the time asking you questions about your work, appearing genuinely interested in the journey you had taken to get you to where you were.

He was intelligent, and soft, and funny in his own dry way, and you were beginning to understand what Cassian and Feyre meant.

It was going perfectly until a woman approached the table, batting her eyelashes toward Azriel and looking to you like you were the biggest pile of nothing on the continent. She was beautiful, long brunette curls and feline honey eyes, and it didn't help like she had the body of a goddess, carved from the finest of marble. You didn't want to admit it, but she made you feel so inferior, so disposable.

Azriel was polite, his fingers drifting against yours the entire time she was at the table, trying to reassure you whilst she essentially asked when she could see him again. In the nicest way he could, Azriel told her that he wasn't interested and asked her to leave, and all that had earned you was a venomous glare and a scoff.

He apologised profusely, and you accepted it, you were willing to let it go. After all, you could understand why women would approach him. Azriel was gorgeous, perhaps the most gorgeous male in all of Prythian, and you couldn't blame anyone for approaching him. If you had that level of confidence then maybe you would have too.

The second time it had happened, it dampened your hopes that a life with Azriel could work.

The Shadowsinger had asked you to go on a walk with him to the markets, he had picked out jewels and other beautiful items that he was sure would look beautiful on you. You had insisted that you didn't need them, that you could but them yourself, but he wasn't having any of it.

It was all going well until another woman showed up, curling her painted fingers around his bicep and pressing her body up against his side. Azriel looked visibly uncomfortable, you'd give him that, and like the same women he sent away at dinner, he told her that he wasn't interested and to leave him alone. The woman all but snarled at you, and you knew that you were going to be the talk of the city, that you were going to be known as Azriel's newest flame.

Unfortunately, it just kept on getting worse.

The people of Velaris had begun coming into the practice faking injuries just so that they'd be able to speak to you and pull the situation between you and Azriel from your lips. It was tiring. Everyone had their pasts, you knew that and you were fine with Azriel's, but it didn't mean that you wanted it waved around in front of your face.

Every single fake patient that waltzed through the doors to your practice served as a constant reminder that you'd never be good enough for Azriel. But you had seen the good in him, you had seen how much he respected you, how his eyes lit up when you spoke about whatever it was that you were passionate about, and you felt his adoration flow down the bond whenever you would see Nyx. You knew that Azriel was smitten, but you also knew that he had no idea just how much everything was effecting you.

It had all come to a head the night he had suggested to make you dinner at his apartment, to minimise the risk of anyone approaching you, and you deduced that it must have been Feyre's idea. Not even the Inner Circle were free of the city gossip mill.

He had done his best to be as comfortable and romantic as possible, and you knew that he wasn't expecting anything to happen, he just wanted you to see how serious he was about you. Candles lined the ledges, and he had placed pillows at the coffee table before the large arched windows which allowed you to see the entire golden valley of Velaris.

It was beautiful. It was perfect.

Then, halfway through the dinner he had impressively made by himself, the door to his apartment opened, and before your eyes stood the same blonde bombshell he had taken home the night you had seen him for the first time. Your breath became lodged in your throat, and all you felt was disappointment and sadness at yet another date being ruined.

"Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt," she walked further into the room, eyes drifting about the candle-filled ledges with a smirk. "I was hoping that you'd be alone tonight," she was brazen enough to remove her coat, revealing little clothing beneath in an outfit that extenuated her curves and breasts.

Azriel's eyes were trained on you, but you couldn't look at him. You folded your hands into your lap and kept your eyes on the floor, trying your best to not cry in that moment, to not appear as weak. But he could feel it, he could feel the sadness and anger bubbling inside of you.

"Come on, Azriel," she purred, golden hair flowing over her shoulders, "Say goodbye to your latest conquest and come back to me. We both know that she clearly isn't what you want."

That was it.

Wordlessly you rose to your feet, hastily gathering your jacket and satchel in your arms before rounding her toward the door. "Don't take it personally, sweetie," she called after you condescendingly, "You just aren't what he needs."

You had never run anywhere, not because you didn't want to but because you enjoyed your slow meandering, you enjoyed watching the world go by slowly, but you sprinted home that night, ignoring his pleas down the bond and instead deciding to shut it off completely as you slammed the door shut to your bedroom.

A couple weeks passed by, weeks of silence which you channelled into your work, opting to take a research trip to the Autumn Court to sample their botanicals for a new balm you wanted to craft. The best part about leaving the city for awhile was that you could work undisturbed by Azriel and the Inner Circle.

Luckily for you, Eris, the new High Lord, was happy for you to experiment your skills and craft on his soldiers and injured townsfolk, knowing of your reputation and passion for healing. He had offered you a place in his court, doting on you often in a bid to get you to stay, but nothing would get you to leave the wonder that was Velaris, no matter how much you wanted to burrow yourself away and hide for eternity.

That morning, you were nestled at the edge of a brook that was passing through the forest just east of Fir Manor, drawing flowers and examining their properties when you heard the leaves crunch from behind you. From the scent, you knew that it was Eris coming to check on you again. He looked good, he adorned a pair of sage green briefs and a cream blouse, and you couldn't forget the brown leather riding boots you loved so much to the point he had gone out and bought you your own pair.

"This is the third time you've stopped by this morning alone," you spoke, not lifting your gaze from your notebook that was littered with colourful sketches and text.

Eris fell to your side, finding a comfortable place on the blanket you often carried around with you so that your body didn't break against the rocks. "I've been invited to the Night Court to see Lucien. I think that they're hoping that you'll join me."

The pencil in your hand froze against the parchment, and you straightened your posture to look at him, at the amber eyes and fire-red hair that he had recently had cut. Eris had been kind to you, understanding the need to escape for awhile, he had immersed you in his culture, had given you many dresses to fit the season, and not once did you see a droplet of hatred within him.

You were aware that the time was approaching to go back, that you couldn't leave Priscilla on her own for much longer even if Madja was back from her holidays and taking the brunt of the patients in the city. Though, you wished you could have a little longer to enjoy the serenity and joy of your work without everything else weighing down on you.

Looking to him, you smiled thinly, tapping the end of your pencil against the parchment of the notebook, "I suppose it's time that I went back anyway. I'm surprised that the practice hasn't burned to the ground yet."

Eris chuckled, his shoulder brushing against your own, "If things are still tense when we're there, you're always welcome to come back with me."

"Thank you, Eris. I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Of course," he smirked, "Anything for Prythian's best healer."

The High Lord jumped to his feet, wiping away any small rocks and pebbles of dirt from his briefs before offering a hand to you and helping you up off of the ground. "Always an ulterior motive with you," you lightly scolded him, looping the strap of your satchel over your shoulder whilst he folded the blanket over his arm.

"Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?" Eris nudged into you, falling in step with you back toward Fir Manor. Once inside the safety of the walls, Eris asked you to pack your things, including the items he had gifted to you, and winnowed you both to the boarder of the Night Court where Rhys was already waiting.

Eris had never seen anyone so desperate to leave his side in years, he watched intently as you babbled some nonsense about needing to get back to the practice, muttering a soft goodbye before disappearing.

"Are you trying to piss Azriel off?" Rhys asked, eyes following your figure through the woodland until he couldn't see you anymore. You reeked of Eris, of Autumn, and wore a dress of burnt orange and riding boots that matched Eris' own. "You know that they're mates."

"For now," Eris quipped with a smirk, causing Rhys to look toward his new ally with confusion, "Can you blame her for questioning it? Considering every time they've been together it's been ruined by one of his one-night whores?"

Rhys was all too aware of what had happened thanks to Nesta who had heard from Cassian, she was too worried about Azriel to not divulge what she knew even though she couldn't stand to be around Rhys. Plus, Nesta liked you, from what little she had seen, she believed that you were a gift from the mother to them all.

"I can't say that I do," he admitted, frowning at the place where you had been stood, eager to get away from him.

It must have been hard, to find out that you had a mate, to give him a chance for it all to be ruined by his past conquests sticking their noses in where they weren't wanted. Then there was the matter of the gossip, of people truly believing you had slipped him some kind of love tonic to get him to want you. It had infuriated Rhys when he had found out, so much so that he had visited those spreading such vile accusations and ordered them to stop or otherwise be banished from the City of Starlight.

Rhys wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be happy even if it wasn't with Azriel.

But not with Eris. Never with Eris.

Unwillingly, Rhys escorted Eris to the House of Wind to be with his brother and new sister-in-law, and returned home to Feyre as fast as he possibly could.

It didn't take you long to catch up with an extremely thankful and tired Priscilla, her blue eyes were brimming with exhaustion and stress, her lips were cracked and her skin was dry. You apologised to her profusely, and thanked her for keeping the practice going whilst you took some much needed time away from the city.

Perhaps Alana was right, maybe Azriel would be the ruin of you.

Priscilla told you that she understood, but that she was happy that you were back. So, you gave her the rest of the week off, feeling alive and ready to dive back into the occupation you adored so much. It turned out to be a quiet day, shipping off some balms and ointments for some follow up patients, some minor cuts from training scuffled that were quickly treated and males sent on their way, and before you knew it the sun had began to set.

The chiming of the bell at the entryway signalled that someone had entered the practice past opening hours. Wiping your hands on your tatty apron, you headed into the waiting foyer, not paying much mind to anything until the scent of cedar and mountains kissed your lungs.

Azriel stood before you, eyes wild and appearing somewhat dishevelled, black bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and a certain worried paleness clinging to his skin. His shadows sensed you immediately, shooting from his shoulders and dancing around your waist.

In your haste to work you had forgotten to take a shower or change out of the clothes Eris had gifted you, and you saw that Azriel had noticed the style and scent that surrounded you. But, he swallowed harshly and rasped, "You look beautiful."

His tired words threatened to cleave your heart into a million pieces, "Thank you."

Silence hung between you, heavy and tense, and you weren't sure what to say. Should you apologise for the clothing and the scent of Eris that lingered around you? Should you apologise for disappearing without a trace with no way for him to contact you?

Azriel looked lost, like he hadn't slept since the night you left his apartment in such a hurry, but the words of that woman still lingered in your mind. Conquest. Not what he needs. It dawned on you that he may not have known just how deeply it had effected you, how inexperienced you had realised you were, how insecure these women had caused you to feel.

"I'm sorry, for that night at my apartment. I didn't invite her, I don't know why she even showed up," he took a step toward you and you didn't move, not knowing what it was that you wanted in that moment, "I should have gone after you. I should have stopped you from leaving but you silenced the bond and I thought I was the last person you wanted to see. I was wrong."

"Azriel, I-"

"Please," he took another step toward you, and kept on moving until his fingers caressed beneath your chin and pulled your gaze up to meet his eyes. "I didn't think that I deserved to be loved, not after what I've done. I thought that the mother had taken one look at me decided that I wasn't worth it. So, yes, I slept around, I wanted to do all I could to forget the fact that I was destined to be alone forever even though having a mate, having you, was all that I've ever wanted."

"You are magnificent, y/n. Truly. No woman even holds a candle to you. You are intelligent and passionate, you are beautiful and peaceful in ways that I never thought I'd be able to witness or feel. I stopped wanting to look back, I stopped wanting to say goodbye to the people I love, and then I met you and I knew I'd found the one I wanted to look back to every night and look forward to every morning."

"You are not a conquest to me. I was ready to accept the bond the moment you entered the room that night when I was lying there dying. You are my everything, you are my reason to live and breathe, you are my salvation. I don't want to live my life without you, not after I've gotten to see you in a way I know that no one else has. Please, y/n. Please come back to me."

You could feel the tears pooling atop your bottom lids, his touch was feverish but unrelenting, his hands cupped your face and his eyes searched your soul for a hint of acceptance.

"Azriel, I don't think that I can," your bottom lip wobbled, and the pain of your insecurity bloomed devilishly inside of your chest. "Your past doesn't bother me, and I never want you to think that it does. Every moment I've spent with you has left me wanting you more and more every day. But I'm not like them, I'm inexperienced in intimacy and dedicated to my work, and I can't allow myself to tarnish everything I have accomplished. I can't allow myself to feel small and insignificant anymore."

"You're not small or insignificant, y/n," his brow furrowed and he felt you slipping away, he didn't need the open bond to understand how much pain you were in, not when he could see it all etched upon your face. "You're everything that I've ever dreamed of. Please."

The moment you stepped away from his embrace, Azriel visibly winced, like he had been shot with a nightshade arrow through the heart. "I need time to think, Az. I need space to figure out if I can do this. Be yours but also be mine."

He didn't want to pester you, he didn't want to beg and make you feel like you owed him anything, but gods, did he want to crawl onto his knees and kiss the ground that you walked on. To Azriel, you were the sun, you were the moon, you were the seasons. You were everything.

Azriel swallowed his words, his pleads, and gently nodded his head, stepping forward and placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before retreating from the practice, carefully clicking the door behind his exit.

It took you a few minutes to be able to gather yourself, to be able to move from that spot, but you did, if not for yourself then for Alana and Eris that were making it their mission to take you to Rita's for a few drinks, to allow you to let off a little bit of steam.

In the next hour, you were bathed and donned in a tight metallic bronze dress with a high slit that reached your hip, a plunging neckline and hair waved down your spine. Eris was always barking at you to live in the moment, and for once you were inclined to agree. So when he and Alana saw the light spill from your opened door, did they turn around and gasp at the woman who stood before them.

"I didn't know that you could clean up this well," Eris mused, earning a light slap on the shoulder as you moved from the practice to join him and Alana on the walk up to Rita's.

"I told you that I could look good when I wanted to."

Alana hummed knowingly, "And this has nothing to do with the fact that you told Azriel you needed space?"

"Maybe a little bit."

Eris laughed, bold and proud, "Showing the Shadowsinger what he's missing. I didn't know that you had it in you."

Rolling your eyes, you noticed Rita's in the distance, and the queues of fae waiting to be allowed in, "This is actually for me. I'm tired of feeling inadequate and looked over. Tonight everyone gets to see that I'm not something to be ignored."

After a short walk up the paved hill, the two fae guards on the doors quickly ushered you inside, and the scent of alcohol and the thick wall of sweat instantly crashed into you. Alana excused herself to go and get drinks for you all whilst Eris led you over to the booth where Lucien and Elain sat, across the room from the others but in their direct eyeline.

Whispers sprouted around you, causing your shoulders to tense up. The healer that had been meddling with the Shadowsinger was now latched to the hip of the High Lord of Autumn.

What a cunning little thing.

So much ambition.

You did your best to ignore them as you walked behind Eris toward his brother and Elain, smiling sweetly at the pair as they rose to greet you, hugging you tightly and telling you how nice it was to be able to finally meet you. Elain was charming and kind, and Lucien was warm and welcoming, and they took you under their wings effortlessly, blocking out the demeaning whispers from the fae surrounding and watching you.

After a few more drinks and shots, thanks to Alana, you found yourself leaning into Eris' side, hazed by the heat and slightly tipsy. You laughed with Elain and shared your love of flowers with her, and you spent time with Lucien telling him how beautiful you found his home court, speaking of the markets and the food in detail. "Sorry brother, but I'd like to steal y/n for a dance."

Eris was stood at your side, looking down at you expectantly with his hand offered out to you. Part of you should have known better, you should have known that Azriel was watching you from across the room, watching as the love of his life was swept away by another Vanserra.

Nudging you to your feet, you sent Lucien a wry smile as you took Eris' hand and allowed him to lead you to the centre of the dancefloor. He pulled you close to his chest and swayed with you to the beat of the music that flowed through the room.

"Does Azriel even know what he's missing?" Eris spoke lowly into your ear, lowering his mouth to the shell of it so that you could hear his voice in your soul. "If I were him, I'd crawl across the fires of hell to have you."

Eris was being brazen. He raised his fingers to your face, the tips of them flitting across your cheek to a strand of hair that had fallen down the side of your face, pushing it back eloquently behind your pointed ear. His fingers lingered, sparks of fire nipping at the skin of your neck as his fingers travelled downward.

You weren't sure what to expect, but you couldn't exactly blame the fist that had flown into Eris' jaw, sending the High Lord crashing to the floor. Azriel stood over him, the crowd had parted to watch the spectacle vying for your attention. Your eyes had blown wide, and it took you a moment to come back into the room. Azriel turned from Eris and stalked over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his chin on the crown of your head as he made the world dissipate in swirls of colour until you were stood in the centre of his apartment.

Azriel towered over you, eyes wild and possessive. You hadn't seen him look to territorial before, but the look in his eyes had you in a chokehold. "My past with females isn't what bothers you. It's having it in your face constantly, it's the whispers and cruelty that bothers you. I understand that now, and I'm sorry that I didn't see that before." Azriel's voice was calm, too calm, like a predator prepping their prey, luring them into wings of security.

His marred fingers traced where Eris' had once been and his eyes flickered with fury, "But Eris does not get to touch you like that. You are mine, y/n. I refuse to let you go."

"You are not what they say you are," he took a step toward you, the force of his knees against your thighs ushering you backward, "They are jealous of you, of us, because they'll never get to know what this is like. They'll never get to know the taste of your skin or the way your name sounds on my lips. They'll never get to know the love I have for you," his hand gripped your waist, and Azriel continued to walk you backward until the backs of your legs hit the ledge of his couch.

"Because I do love you, y/n. With everything I have, I love you. I knew it from the moment I saw you, I knew that I was going to fall in love with you. Nothing could ever take me from you," his lips brushed over your collarbone, igniting a fire within you that you had never felt before, "I am yours forever. And I promise you, I vow that no one will ever make you feel insignificant ever again. Not unless they want to die by my hand. I would rip the world apart to ensure your happiness."

Azriel's words struck a chord inside of you, and you couldn't help but allow the bond to open, to allow his flood of emotions to crash into you like waves against the Summer Court rocks.

"Azriel," you spoke his name breathlessly, too focused on the sensation of his lips peppering soft kisses along your collarbone and neck. "Please."

He pulled away from you, placing his hands on either side of your neck and stroking his thumbs against your ears, "Tell me."

You had known for a long time, since the moment he had turned up at the steps of your practice holding flowers with a love-sick smile plastered on his lips. "I love you too," and you felt the bond sing at your admission, so brilliant and bright that your heart felt like it was going to lurch from its cage. "Please, Az. I need you."

Azriel lowered his lips to yours, hovering a feathers touch from your own, his breath scented with the faint aroma of whisky fanning over your face. With your slight nod, Azriel closed that gap and felt the bond fall into place, thrumming and secure, on the cusp of being fulfilled.

Your mouths moved in sync against one another, and Azriel effortless scooped you into his arms and carried you over to his bed, setting you down as gently as he could before climbing on top of you. His hands roamed your body, the curves of your hips and the mounds of your breasts, his fingers traced circled into the skin of your exposed thigh, teasing the sensitive area and smirking against your lips as you writhed beneath him under his touch.

His lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping the skin there between his teeth, allowing you to begin unbuttoning his shirt to expose his toned chest. Azriel pulled away slightly when your fingers began drifted over the areas where his wounds once were, the wounds you had saved him from. "They're gone," you told him quietly, lips swollen but smiling under the dim light.

Azriel brushed your hair behind your ears and brushed his nose against yours, dragging the tip down the slope of it, "I told you that you were my salvation. I wasn't lying."

"I'm starting to believe that."

His eyes sparked with mischief and he sent a wave of love down the bond as he kissed your lips once more, "Let me show you."

And so he did.

Author's Note

SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭

Really hoping that this has done the amazing ask some justice 🥺

Also I was so close to writing smut for this fic - looks like I'll need to do a part two or something...

Taglist

@mokansa @killseinx @lady-targaryens-world @brieftriumphnightmare @thesunloveschips @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog

[dollfacefantasy]

RIGHT OFF OUR BONES ♡

pairing: vampire!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: one year after leon inserted himself into your life, he has a special way to celebrate your anniversary. the life-changing decision that's haunted you since that night in your room.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, blood play and drinking, knife play, religious imagery

wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy halloween!! i hope you guys like this one. technically it is a part 2 to this fic, although this can be read as a stand alone since the past events are explained in it. anyways reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated as always <3

kinktober slot: vampire leon (he's special he gets his own day)

His lips landed on the knuckles of your middle and ring finger just as the clock on his wrist struck midnight. He wanted to be touching you as the day turned over. Minutes ago this night had been like any other, but now it was officially something special.

It was your anniversary.

Your eyes watched him. His features remained piercing even in the darkness of the club. The lights hit him just right where the two of you sat on the upper balcony. A beautiful array of reds glowed on his cheek. His nose and brow cast sharp shadows. You can't help but be entranced by the sight, and that fact only became more true when his eyes flitted up and looked at yours.

"One whole year, beloved."

Despite the blaring music, you heard him as though he whispered the words right in your ear. You nodded in return, not confident your own voice could carry over the drums in the same manner.

You watched him smirk. He knew what you were thinking. Not even metaphorically. He had the sixth sense of the mind. It only took him six months of your relationship to inform you of that.

One whole year. You could hardly believe it. These months had passed you by quicker than any other year in your past. Knowing Leon and letting him in had turned your life into a blur of bloody kisses and long nights. Days became fleeting, just intervals of time you had to endure between his visits.

The version of you who had been sleeping peacefully in her bed the night he first snuck in never would have envisioned this becoming her reality. You couldn't have imagined Leon, who'd been nothing more than a faceless form in the background to you, would sink his fangs so deep into every facet of your being.

You'd been scared of him at first, then thrilled, captivated by the danger he brought. That stayed true for a while, and it still might be true today. You love him now though, so it's harder to pinpoint. The fear has become muddled with the devotion and adoration, the worship and the reverence.

"Are you ready to see your surprise?" he asked, cutting into your thoughts.

You nodded again, fingers clasping around his icy palm as he rose to his feet. He pulled you to your own before guiding you through the gatherings of people on the way to the stairs. The song playing reverberated through the metal of the suspended walkway. The lyrics about holding you close and tearing you apart wrapped around each part of you and sunk through your skin.

Leon had been teasing you with this surprise for the past week. He wouldn't give you a clue as to what it was beyond the fact that it was for your anniversary.

He traversed the stairs in front of you. Not a hair on his head moved with the motion. It stayed slick back in place. When you reached the bottom, his grip on your hand remained just as firm. There were more people down there. More eyes catching on his presence. His alabaster skin and obsidian shirt. He didn't return any of their looks though. He walked through them as if infected with a disease, which in a sense was the case. Maybe all of these people knew that deep down but didn't have the words to articulate it.

They didn't have the knowledge that monsters were real. That life didn't have to be a straight path to death. There were ways to subvert it and prolong existence. To become an imitation of a living being. In childish terms - as your lover called it -  to become a vampire.

The two of you floated through the exit of the club and out onto the sidewalk. You could still hear the music from outside the stone walls. The song switched over into something filled with synth. The change meant nothing to you though as Leon continued tugging you in the opposite direction of his feeding ground.

Your shoulders shuddered as the cold of the night started to gloss over your bare skin. A light breeze blew over you too, swishing the crimson fabric on the skirt of your dress.

"Are you cold?" Leon asked simply.

He found your mortal needs cute. Little ways he could take care of you and show that he had your best interest in mind. Small methods of building your dependence on him.

"A little bit," you answered as he'd expected.

Nodding in acknowledgement, he released your hand and draped his arm over your shoulders instead. He pulled you close, tucking you to his side. It didn't help much in terms of physical warmth given that he didn't emit any, but the gesture unleashed a swarm of butterflies in your belly that carried the heat of affection up into your chest and shoulders.

Smile now on your face, you turned to look at him.

"So... Do I get to know where we're going?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

He returned the gaze by looking over at you.

"Have some patience. You've been waiting an entire year for this. I think you can last a few minutes more."

His familiar smirk curled his lips into a picture of smug superiority. There was nothing Leon enjoyed more than being able to have a hold on you. To know something you didn't. It made him feel like your keeper. The one who could guide you through this world and into any others.

"Not even a hint?" you teased.

"Not one," he confirmed. Leaning in, he gave you a quick peck on the lips as a reward for your expected patience.

You only had to walk a handful more blocks before your destination came into view. The ground beneath your heels softened, transitioning from solid concrete to loose dirt. Decaying grass lined the walkway to the iron gates. Lights from the city streets faded into the distance, bringing a different kind of chill over you. The thrill of isolation surrounded you even though you were with someone else. It brought the sense that it was just you two in the world right now.

'Raccoon City Cemetery' was displayed in thin letters above the gaunt points of the fencing. The gates opened with a rusty creak and shut with the same sound.

"The cemetery?" you asked, "Is this your version of romantic?"

"You'll see. I think you'll come to see it my way soon enough. Like you always do," he replied, his voice picking up a bit of a teasing lilt.

You laughed quietly as he pulled you along the rows of headstones. "Are you calling me a pushover?"

"Never, sweetheart. Only trusting. Susceptible to my persuasion. But that's how I like you."

The pair of you continued heading deeper into the fields of remains. Flowers decorated a collection of graves while others were left desolate. He pulled you into a sharp turn around a mossy one and down a few more rows. You passed one more that was cracked before he finally stopped.

He looked at you before you could even think to ask anything. His arm fell from your shoulders, and his hand landed on your waist instead. He pulled you to stand in front of him. His other arm matched the placement of his other one, both of them snaking around you and holding you flush against his chest.

You felt his chin rest on your shoulder and his lips peck your throat a few times as your eyes trained on the stone about six feet from you. It was one of the empty ones. The rock looked fresh though, not marred or weathered like some of the others. Though not a single bouquet had been left in honor of the person who lay below.

Or who was supposed to be lying below.

Your eyes caught on the lettering engraved across the hard surface. Leon Scott Kennedy. Some details sat a few inches down. His date of birth. His date of death. An inscription that said "Lived to protect. Died doing just that. Will live on in the hearts of those he saved. Rest in Peace."

Honestly, you didn't know what to say. As much time as you'd spent with Leon over the past year, his past was still pretty foreign to you. You knew he worked a high-stress government job pertaining to bioweapons, that it was how he became what he is now, and that no part of it has carried over to his 'new life.'

Whenever you were together, he was more interested in talking about you. Your problems and your feelings. Your thoughts and experiences. He would provide insight, let you know his way of viewing the world and moving about it. But he kept discussions of his own history to a minimum, staying closed off in that regard. Though in his own way, you guess this counted as opening up.

You huffed out a breathy laugh and glanced at him. "Would you say you're resting in peace?"

"With you?" he teased, "Not one day."

Your smile persisted across your features, but your eyes returned to the headstone.

"Is it real?"

"Of course it is."

"Did you actually die?"

"I think the version of me it was made for did."

You remained silent for a few moments, for no other reason than to think over what he's telling you. One of your hands drifted to his that was splayed across your tummy. You locked your warm fingers with his cold ones.

"So everyone thinks you're dead?"

"Everyone who used to know me, yes," he answered before pausing, "I've been careful. It's a lot easier to avoid people when you only go out at night."

You nodded, but you still had more questions. "What happened to you?"

"I got sick. Before I evolved. It was really bad. The person who gave me this... whatever it is, they didn't infect me the easy way. They tried to kill me," he began to explain, "I was on an assignment in Romania, investigating a group of potential bioterrorists. They were like me. My squad killed all of them. Before the last one died though, he got me. Nearly ripped out my throat, but some of the venom got in.

"It was like living in a state of death for weeks. Felt like all the blood in my body stopped. They could barely feel my heart beat. I was pale, my eyes glossy like no one was there. Until suddenly, I came back better than before. It was like everything started flowing again, ten times stronger, stampeding through my veins."

You listened to him, each word painting an image in your mind. The other sounds in the graveyard faded to nothing. Chirps of crickets, leaves rustling in the wind, far-away calls of the city all background noise as you ingested his chilling story.

"I left a note. I guess they wanted to spare the embarrassment of a suicide, so they recorded it as if the sickness took me," he finished.

"Why are you telling me this?" you asked finally.

"Because I want you to know what you're getting into before I ask you to decide."

Your heart seizes in your chest, locking up with the implication of those words. So this was the surprise. The decision. The choice you'd asked about a year ago. The one he deemed you unfit for at the time. Internally, you wondered what changed.

"Decide if I want to be... like you?" you checked.

He nodded, his fingers stroking back and forth over the red cloth around your waist.

"I want you to think about it," he whispers, "You have to understand that if you make the change. There's no going back."

Stepping away from you, he walked around to stand in front. The moonlight shone down on his back, drowning him in shadows to your eyes. He stood above where his corpse was supposed to be lying in eternal rest.

Your heart pumped in the same steady rhythm but hard. You knew he could hear it. He reached out, grabbing one of your arms by the elbow. His fingers trailed down to your wrist.

"You'll still be mine either way, darling," he said. His striking eyes locked with yours. Even in the darkness, they stood out like prized jewels.

You still remained silent, mulling over the decision in your mind. It probably wasn't one you should make in such a short span of time given that it would change the rest of your life. On one hand, you could be like him. You could live forever. You could feed off the flesh of others, living solely during the nocturnal hours. Or you could maintain the status quo. Continue being his little mortal that he watched over and fed from on occasion.

What Leon didn't tell you was that it wasn't really a decision. At least not yours. An answer indicating you didn't want to change would suffice for now but not forever. You were his little human. His mate. He wouldn't live in a world without you. If he had to wait a while longer for you to be ready, so be it, but one day, you would be his in every sense.

Luckily for him though, you seem to already be swaying in his favor.

You stepped towards him. The soft dirt molded to the print of your shoe. "But if I change, won't things be different? Like between us?" you asked.

He couldn't help the smile that rose to his face. You always phrased things in the sweetest way. He found everything about it absolutely adorable. From your naive cadence to your shimmery doe eyes. His hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth over the soft expanse.

"Things would be different, yeah. But different doesn't mean all bad," he said.

He pulled you in closer by the back of your head. His muscular arm guided you in so your front was flush against his, those wondrous eyes gazing up at his face.

"I won't lie to you, at first things will be hard. This thing... it can feel like a curse," he murmured, "The taste of blood takes a while to get used to. The feeling of your prey going limp in your arms... it's a thrill like you can't even imagine. So horrific but satisfying."

The whispered words brought a chill over you stronger than the one inflicted by the night air. Staring into his eyes almost felt as if you were hypnotizing yourself, locking your mind into the trance of a predator you wouldn't be able to escape.

"But it can also be a gift," he continued, "You wouldn't have to worry about meaningless mortal worries. Wouldn't have to fear the idea of aging into irrelevancy."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. Already, you feel the urge to give in. Leon was nothing if not enticing, and the idea of being with him forever... it didn't sound so bad.

"How do you do it?" you finally asked.

His eyes gleamed with excitement at your wavering resolve. He pecked your lips, then the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. His mouth landed on your neck near your ear, just above the two faint markings that came from him sinking his fangs into you every so often.

"It'll be quick and painless, angel. Just a little bit of my blood should do it," he said.

You bit your lip at the thought. While his mouth latched onto your neck every other week, you'd never had the luxury of returning the favor. The image of it in your mind was sickening but exhilarating at the same time.

"If I change... will you still wanna drink from me? Will you still need me?" you wondered aloud.

"Of course, I'll need you. I'll always need you. Just not in that way after you evolve," he said and brought his face to be level with yours again, "Once you're like me, your blood will be too divine to be used only in that way. That's not to say I won't drink from you though."

Your eyes studied his face, trying to discern his meaning. He moved his mouth in and nipped at your lips.

"When you're like me, I'll drink from you for fun. Pure pleasure. Not because I need it to survive, but because I rather wouldn't without the taste of you," he said.

Blood rushed throughout your body as your heart pounded faster for him. You couldn't think of any reason to say no at this point. There didn't seem to be anything in your human life that would tether you to the only world you'd known. Instead, you wanted to bind yourself to the man in front of you. Your mate.

After only a few more seconds of thought, you whispered, "I'll do it."

His lips split into a wild grin. "That's my girl. My sweet little doll."

His arms looped around your figure and kept you right up against him. He kissed you without reserve now. The spoils of your decision were yours now. There was no reason to tease, no more reason to hint at things.

A delicate moan escaped your lips. You melted into the affection, resting your arms on his shoulders and shutting your eyes. The only two people in the world right now were you and him.

His hands rubbed up and down your back. They slid over your curves and massaged the tender flesh through your dress. His fingers fell to your ass, kneading the plush softness there. Following in the same direction, his lips drifted down your throat. They coasted over the pulsing of your carotid artery and onto the center where your vocal chords thrummed.

He kissed over your collar bone and the top of your chest left exposed by your dress. Your head fell back between your shoulders. The pleasure reverberating through you evaporated your thoughts into hot air between your ears. Your fingers threaded into his soft, ashy locks.

"Leon," you breathed. The word spilled from your lips like a prayer.

Straightening out, he stood up. "Be patient, baby. You should cherish these last moments you'll have, living the life you've always known."

His fingers began undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. The stiff fabric parted, revealing his alabaster chest and the chiseled definition of his abdomen. Both sides fell away. He left the garment hanging over his shoulders. He didn't bother discarding it entirely.

Next, from his pocket came what looked like a crucifix. You watched him bring the small item into view with curiosity. You tried to piece together its purpose or significance in this moment, unable to find one until his thumb pressed on a raised charm in the center and slid it downward.

A shining silver blade poked from the bottom. The point of it was sharper than any knife you'd ever seen. Each edge of the metal shimmered with the propensity to wound.

He could feel the way your eyes magnetized to the sleek surface. His cock kicked in his trousers from how entranced you appeared. Lowering to his knees, he rested a hand upon your shoulder and guided you down with him. 

He didn't go for the transformation right away. His lips found yours again, engaging you in another passionate exchange. Your breaths puffed against his face. The hot air fanned across his skin. A small reminder of the heat he'd be harnessing forever.

His hands roamed your body. They pulled up the flowy bottom of your dress, bringing it above your hips. Your skin pebbled with the new coolness.

"Leon..." you whimpered. It was different from your last calling of his name. This one held some anxiety and trepidation. Both emotions you would be mostly freed from in a matter of minutes.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he muttered.

"Just... someone could see," you said, "Shouldn't we be quick?"

He chuckled and just shook his head, not stopping lavishing you with affection. "No one is here besides us. And even if there were, you know I would hear them coming," he teased, "They wouldn't be able to stop us anyway. No one is getting between you and I right now."

You keened under his touch. It was the truth. Anyone who tried to interrupt would be quickly silenced by your lover. Without the need for worry, you let out a sigh and relaxed. You could let yourself enjoy this.

The two of you made out for a while longer, the exact amount of time lost in the flurry of touches. When your eyes felt droopy and your lips swollen and wet, he finally pulled away. You blinked at him, and he dragged his fingers down your jaw.

"You're ready. This will be nice and easy. You just do as I say," he whispered.

He leaned back onto his knees. His skin glowed under the pale moonlight. The crucifix shined brighter as he raised it. You watched in silent awe, barely able to understand the scene playing out before you.

His hand brought it to the muscle resting right above his heart. He held it there for a second before pressing it to his own skin. Your eyes were unable to pull away as the blade dug into the flesh, drawing a scarlet line over the unmarred surface. Deep red trickled from the wound.

Lifting his eyes back to you, he examined your reaction. He didn't sense much activity going on in your head, and the look on your face told him he had you hooked.

"Come here, baby," he whispered, cupping the back of your head, "Take a drink. As much as you can."

Slowly, he pulled you in. He directed you to his chest and positioned your head right where the cut bled. Without question, your lips parted. You were unsure of how to connect with his skin at first. But once that cool, sticky liquid hit your mouth, it came like the most natural thing in the world.

They engulfed the crimson scrape. Your tongue laved at it for more. Now it was his turn to groan. His head fell back, and his cock filled out below.

"That's it," he rasped, "Nice and steady."

You suckled some more, your efforts rewarded with a thick stream flowing into your mouth. It was divine. Like a waterfall straight from heaven. You whined at the taste and pressed your hips right against his thigh.

He had told you a year ago that yours was the sweetest blood he'd ever come across, but that was clearly only because he'd never tasted his own. All you could think while it oozed down your throat was that you wanted, no needed, more.

Your heart hammered so loud in your ears, you would've thought you were close to cardiac arrest. But it kept going and going until it evened out. It felt as though your body had ascended. Everything felt so intense now. The only thing that kept you grounded was nursing the blood from Leon's cut.

Eventually, he pulled on your neck. You needed a break even if you didn't understand that. His fingers curled around your throat and gently eased you off. You didn't want to, that was evident by the way you grabbed at him and resisted his hand.

"Shh, shh, shh," he cooed while lowering you back against the dirt of his grave, "You're alright. You can have some more in a little while. Just let your body adjust."

Your eyes closed again. It felt like your head was spinning. He stroked your cheek and down your neck while getting on top of you. Dropping the crucifix beside you, he parted your thighs. Every nerve ending on your body was firing away right now. He knew you'd be dripping for him.

His fingers coasted up and down the smooth flesh of your legs. He could sense the change in you already. Your scent was morphing. It would only be a matter of time until your eyes brightened and your fangs came in.

Pushing his hips forward, he ground his bulge against your core. You mewled in response. The simple touch was enough to spark a rampage of bliss within you.

"Good girl," he praised, "Such a good girl. I told you this is what you were meant for."

You nodded hazily. He knew you were registering the words, but it looked more like you were living in a dream right now rather than lucid life.

He'd seen enough to know there was nothing left to wait for. He reached down and unbuttoned his pants. Next went the zipper, and then he pulled his cock out. He tugged on his shaft, ensuring it was ready for you.

You were too caught up in the novel feelings flooding your senses to care about doing your part of the undressing, so he stepped in. His fingers hooked around the thin lace of your panties and yanked them down. They rolled in on themselves and dimpled the soft muscles of your thighs.

When your cunt was exposed to him, he saw his predictions had been true. Your folds glistened for him. The wetness sparkles under the silver light emanating from the sky.

"Pretty baby," he whispered while guiding his tip towards your entrance. 

He lined it up with your hole before nudging it in. You sucked in a gasp, trembling at the intrusion. The connection felt all-consuming. The bond between you and Leon was above you now, out of your control. You couldn't break it if you wanted to. It was eternal.

His hands grabbed your hips, giving him leverage to thrust in and out of you. Skin clapped against skin while both of you moaned in ecstasy. The otherwise quiet cemetery filled with the sounds of your passion.

He rolled himself into you, sheathing his length in the tight embrace of your walls. You clamped around him. Every rock of his pelvis got you to squeeze on him. He panted with the restraint it took not to just pound you into the ground.

Your arms reached up, and your hands grabbed for him. Your fingers flexed as you tried to get him closer. He lowered himself, allowing you to drag him the rest of the way. Your scarlet-stained mouth kissed his lips with the same dedication you'd had for drinking his blood.

He groaned and returned the kisses. Saliva smeared over his chin. Your efforts were a bit cloudy from the lusty fog in your head. His name leaked from your mouth again. And again. And then again. As if it was the only word you knew. The only word you found worth knowing.

"Mhm. I'm right here, beloved. I'm here with you," he breathed.

"Forever," you whimpered.

Your forearm rested over the back of his neck, bobbling around with each jolt of his body. Your fingers lazily toyed with the ends of his hair. The strands felt like silk between your digits. He gazed into your eyes. Already, he could see your irises shifting to a stronger color.

"My beautiful little love. There's nothing more I could want. Just you with me till the rest of the world is dead and gone," he whispered.

You moaned in response. Your head nodded frantically. You couldn't be more eager to express your agreement.

He grinned and kissed your throat more. You could feel the points of his fangs scraping over the tender area. He didn't puncture like so many times before, he merely reminded you of the idea. Because of that, you knew he was close. He always wanted to bite right around the time the coils in his stomach started to tighten and his balls started to draw up.

Grunting against your neck, he kept his hold secure on you. His abs twitched while his breaths became labored. He pumped into your pussy a few more times before a breathy moan burst from him.

"Fuck..." he sighed.

He slammed into you for a final time, draining himself into your heat. You trembled a final few humanly shudders before deflating against the ground below you. Your head tilted back, and the headstone behind came into view again. You wondered if you'd get a similar one for yourself now or if you could just disappear into the night unnoticed.

He came down from his high with his face buried in the crook of your neck, but once his breathing had evened out, he pulled back to look down at you. He brushed his thumb over your cheek once more, cherishing the sight of your tinted lips and glassy eyes.

"This is only the beginning, beloved," he whispered, "This is the dawn of the rest of your days."

He connected you in one more kiss. One last gesture of his undying affection before he would help you put yourself back together again. He could already feel your skin beginning to cool.

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Four

masterlist

your eyes followed him as he slowly walked over to where you sat. he took a seat next to you, not to far but not too close. a good distance for the strangers you were to each other. "who are you?" he looked at your face, examining your features from the color of your hair to the shape of your eyes and face.

you could only sigh at the tension in the room. "i work with your father. my name is y/n l/n. your father has been training me for some time now when he was still known as ultraman as a back up plan in case you did not want to step up for the position as ultraman. i have only shown up now since your father thought it best to have two heroes instead of one."

kenji could only stare at you, his eyes sharp, almost focused like a lion stalking it's pray. you gulped as you waited for him to make any comments. "but why? why would my father have a backup plan for me? why didn't he tell me about you when he asked me to take up this position?" he looked at you confused by all the new information.

"your dad knew that you liked playing baseball. he did not want to force you to choose between the two. we met many years ago, during his hero days, and had created a plan for me to take up the job so you would not lose your dreams of being an athlete in case you were to deny. i genuinely mean you no harm and i do not plan to reveal who you are to the public."

he sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair. "but how can i trust you?" he said looking at you. "you can't. but you can learn to trust me." you smiled at him, making him return a little smile back. "besides, i can help you take care of the infant kaiju as well. better two than one. i can take care of her when you're out for your games. also big fan by the way."

he could only laugh at your last comment, finding it funny how you didn't mind to praise him during a serious conversation like this. "i don't know much about you, but i would appreciate the help. i hope i can get to trust you y/n. please prove me right." you nodded your head, watching him stretch from crouching down as he sat down. "you can trust and count on me ken."

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after a bit of talking and getting to know each other a little bit better, ken offered for you to stay with him in the duration of the baby kaiju being here. he didn't know how long she would be here but in his head she wouldn't be here long before she is dropped off at kaiju island.

you didn't know whether to believe his idea of it not being that long but you agreed to stay there with him. he showed you a spare guest room he had, telling you that you could temporarily live there if you wanted to, unless you would return back to your house in the city.

you decided to stay, worried for the safety of the baby kaiju and any issues that kenji would face in taking care of her. so there you were, currently laying on the bed that kenji offered to you as you heard the cries of the baby kaiju finally end.

your eyes were red, tired from staying awake so late, as your hair stayed slightly messy. you laid in a spare shirt and pair of joggers that kenji gave to you out of pity for your uncomfortable jeans and blouse that you wore long before the two of you met.

your eyes finally moved to close, taking the chance to knock out. peace and quiet enveloped your body as you felt yourself relax. or so you thought. a loud cry erupted through the house as you heard ken yell right after. you rose from bed, going to the door and out the hallway that led to the living room.

your eyes landed on ken who slammed his face in a pillow in annoyance. his hair was messy and covered part of his face. "can't sleep, huh?" you croaked out. he could only groan in response as his hand fell to his side. "nope, but by the looks of it, you couldn't too." you laughed at him.

the both of you sluggishly went to the tube like elevator, slowly going down towards where the baby kaiju was. you both walked out grudgingly, as mina floated to the two of you. "she settled down for a minute. then started right back up." her voice yelled over the crying that was happening.

"yeah! i can hear it!" ken's aggravated voice yelled through the crying as he set a box of food down of the steps. "she's still scared of you both, ken and y/n." you could only frown at the scene, fixing the blanket that wrapped around your body.

he groaned and then turned to you. "follow my lead please." you nodded and watched him as he yelled for the baby kaiju's attention while clapping his hands. "hey hey hey!" you walked backwards with him.

"before." he opened his arms wide. you quickly caught onto what he was trying to do. "after!" you both changed into your ultra forms, with kenji hitting his head. the cute pink kaiju stopped crying and smiled at the two of you. she jumped slightly in joy as you waved at her. "hi baby." she could only coo in excitement.

you and kenji both went back to your human forms making her cry. and then you both went to your hero forms. kenji repeated before and after as the baby kaiju went from crying to jumping to joy to crying over and over. it wasn't long till the both of you stood in front of her in your normal forms and she smiled.

"you see. it's me. us." he said as he walked closer to the containment unit. you followed behind him, sitting next to it as you tapped the glass. the baby kaiju could only reach for you as you tapped the glass back at her, making her mimic your actions. "hi baby, its me. everything's okay." you said smiling at her. she smiled back making her cheeks look chubbier and cuter.

she then turned to look at kenji, watching him as he ate from the box of food he brought down with him. her stomach grumbled as she whined while hitting the glass. she pressed her cute face against the glass, trying to eat the food that she couldn't reach.

"what now?" kenji grumbled to himself. "she must be starving." mina responded. "do i look like i have any idea what to feed a giant pink lizard baby?" he sounded annoyed but you could tell it was from the lack of sleep.

"lighten up kenji. she's just a baby. she can't control when she's hungry or not." you said as you pulled out a donut from the box next to him. he only playfully glare at you before sighing and turning to mina seeing the baby kaiju throw a tantrum.

"mina, hurry! give her something to eat before she stomps another car!" you couldn't help but cackle at him worrying about his already destroyed cars as mina brought out a table inside full of different types of foods.

"nice! maple and brown sugar oatmeal. new york strip. mmmm. go on, try it!" ken pointed at the food that rotated in the table, trying to sell off the food for the cute kaiju to eat.

"ken- i don't think she can eat that." you said worried for her. "shhh y/n, no one can resist a new york strip." he said putting a finger to your face playfully to shush you, which you slapped away while rolling your eyes.

the baby kaiju cautiously picked up a piece of meat from the table. she took it into her mouth, taking small bites. ken turned to you with a cocky smirk on his face. "see, she likes it-" the meat she ate was spit out in front of ken, only missing him because of the glass that separated them.

"uhuh, you were saying." you smirked at him, putting your hands on your hips jokingly. ken went to make a remark only to stop when the baby kaiju slammed the table of food against the walls, making the plates breaks. "hey stop that!" she could only cry more as he yelled at her.

"you're gonna be in big trouble, young lady!" he raised a finger in a threatening manner, trying to scare her to behave. she didn't bother to listen to him, only to halt her crying as she stood up.

"what is she smelling?" you turned to watch where she moved towards, seeing as she sniffed the air where the fishes from the ocean swam along.

"what? what is it now?" ken asked annoyed from the lack of sleep and events of the day. "hey lighten up, she's just a baby." you said furrowing your brows at him.

you looked to see as your adoptive baby faced the fish. a form of vibration shook the air in front of it, only to bounce back to her after it hit the fish. "what the heck is that?" kenji asked confused.

"it's echolocation, you idiot." you said to him. "who are you calling an idiot??" he raised a finger at you. "you! the guy who doesn't know what echolocation is!" you yelled at him as you both fault like kids.

your bickering was cut short to the sound of the baby crying, causing you both to look at her as an hit the glass and motioned towards the fish.

"you want fish, we'll get your fish!" ken shouted. "we?" you asked raising a eyebrow at him. "yes. we. you're going to help me catch fish for the baby." he said sticking his tongue out at you.

you rolled your eyes and threw your blanket off your body to the side. "fine, let's go get some fish."

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you both swam through the water in your ultra forms, chasing after fish that swam away from the both of you in fear. it had taken longer than expected to get the amount of fish you had now. the fish were slimier and faster than you expected in water. you underestimated them.

your body walked over to the top of the container as ken removed the lid from it, showing a happy kaiju reaching to you both in joy. you both dumped the fish that you caught in with her, making her jump with joy as she stuffed them into her mouth.

you both zapped out of your forms, back to your human sizes, as you fell to the ground. you let out a yawn, finding yourself cradle yourself on the ground with your blanket, that you left behind on the floor, now wrapped around you again.

ken fell next to you, not too far from you but not too close as he laid down with you. you both silently stared at the ocean from the windows, taking in the scenery.

the peaceful silence was broken by kenji talking. "thank you for helping me take care of them. i know i dragged you into this in a way but i really needed this help." his voice was soft but you could still hear him.

"of course ken, i told you i'd help you the second we found her. it's not that no one can raise a kid by themselves but it's because the extra support in raising a baby is always needed to feel better. don't feel bad, okay?" you ended your words with a unsaid promise as you stuck your pinky finger out.

ken groaned seeing your finger poking out. "do i really have to do that? i'm not a kid no more." you glared at him from the blanket that partially covered your face. "pinky promise, now." you said sternly.

he sighed but stuck his pinky finger to do the little pinkie promise you asked for. he looked away as his finger intertwined with yours but not without failing at hiding the small smile that graced his lips.

"thank you. now goodnight kenji." you whispered to him. "goodnight y/n, well chat more tomorrow." you hummed in approval letting yourself drift off to sleep on the cold metal floor. sleep enveloped your frame, but not without the feeling of someone fixing the blanket around your body more.

TAGLIST !

@ilovemyhusbandaaravos @miffysoo @dumbkira15 @chaoticotaku @channit @shingsoluvely @vampz-cats @mixvchelle @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dreamayy @justanotherkpopstanlol @bat1212 @angelitadiaz

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

This is weird but could you do some headcanons of a MC reader who steals adopts one of those living plushies of the smiling critters (the ones who took over dog day) and keeps them like a pet dog and keeps them for the rest of the chapter

(It can be any of the critters, but preferably a Bobby bearhug)

Poppy: "What do you have there??"

You, with a Bobby Bearhug Critter on your shoulder: "Uh, a battery...?"

Yep, somehow you managed to tame one of the feral Smiling Critters you found within the playhouse.

Literally the only thing you did was throw some snacks at Bobby since she was 0.1 seconds away from eating your flesh....and she's followed you ever since like a pet.

She's advertised as the most lovable critter, and you wonder if part of that is why she's so friendly to you.

But you know she's really just hungry and would've ripped your face off if not for your quick reaction.

Still, Bobby stays with you even after fleeing from the other mini critters who took over Dogday's body, never leaving your side while venturing through the rest of Playcare.

You do stop to sew her eye back on properly and clean her heart necklace and fur, of course.

Poppy, Kissy, and even Ollie are confused as to how and why she's not aggressive towards you like the others are.

But hey, any ally you can get is good. No matter how bug or small.

She still has phrases she's programmed to repeat. Very generic stuff associated with her character like "I love you forever" and "I'm all yours".

But you wanna believe she genuinely means those things and wants to reassure you.

During the fight with Catnap, he tried taking Bobby away from you, seeing her as a "traitor" and creating hallucinations of her as a gigantic monster--but you're not deterred.

Once he's dead and gone, you take a moment to hug the little red bear tightly, relieved she was safe and free of his ruling..

Even after all these years, she still smells like roses.

[cryptidghostgirl]

-Alastor x spouse!gn!reader:

Alastor and his Spouse had been together ever since they were alive and his spouse had always been his right hand in life and death. Just giving a helping hand if Alastor needed it, watching proudly as he became a powerful overlord. But then Alastor disappeared and no one knew where he had gone to, not even his beloved spouse. After a year or so of searching and waiting for their husband to come back, they accepted that he was gone and went on to become an overlord themselves, getting some tips from Rosie here and there. After a while they became isolated, only ever going out to gossip with Rosie or attend meetings with the other overlords. And they were never really a fan of the media or technology either. Only ever listening to their husbands radio, sometimes even joining in. So they weren’t aware of their husbands return, only seeing him for the first time in 7 years at one of the meetings with the other overlords. And they were pissed.

Sorry, that was really long.. my bad :[

Also, no pressure if you don’t want to go write this <3

A/N okay one, don’t apologize. Two, this ask is awesome. Three, I hope what I’ve done with it makes you happy :)

Wrath (Alastor x Overlord!Spouse!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Tame as heck for the most part, ngl.

Word Count: 1,820

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n had never known life without Alastor. They had grown up together, shared a wild childhood in the back streets of New Orleans. Nothing can ever beat that type of love and so, when they were fifteen and terrified and he asked them on their first date, how could they say no?

One date turned into two and before either really had time to sit back and take stock of their lives, they were twenty and married. Alastor had a budding career as a radio host and Y/n found a simple joy in the life of a house-partner. Things had been happy, they had been good.

The pair had always been inseparable, attached at the hip. That first night Alastor had come home, eyes wide and suit soaked in blood? Y/n had handed him a damp towel. Even their entrance into death had been together, shot by a hunter while burying a body.

It had been a joy to watch him grow and change, to witness the way their husband built a life for them in the world of the living and nothing changed that when they entered Hell. They were his right hand, his everything. That was why it hurt so much when he disappeared one day without a trace.

Alastor had never done that before, not tell them what was going on. He'd been gone for days, weeks at a time on rare occasions, tracking some demon he was intent on killing or the like. This was different. They always talked before hand, he always made sure Y/n was safe and set up with their mutual friend Rosie for their protection. This time, there hadn't even been a note.

In tears, Y/n had wandered their way into Cannibal Town. Rosie's smile had slipped from her face upon welcoming them into the little shop she ran, quickly ushering the demon into the back room. Y/n, while they had been a right hand in their first life and this one, had never been an active part in Alastor's work. Sure, they leant a hand if he needed one, but the occasion he did was rare and most of them helping him was through making sure he had a hot meal to come home to and a loving environment to exist in. They had never had a life without him in it and refused to believe they were entering into one now.

The first weeks were rough. Y/n stayed with Rosie, in the same guest room they always did but, they barley left it. When Rosie suggested they start looking for her lost partner, Y/n had jumped up. It was a shred of hope, something to hold onto.

A year of searching went by. Rosie tried, did everything in her power to keep Y/n happy and hopeful, to keep her safe. Time is the cruelest master of all and not even Rosie could stop the doubt it brought to her friend.

"I can't do this anymore, Rose." Y/n admitted one day as they drank their coffee, "I... He's not coming back."

"You don't know that!" Rosie had insisted, grasping Y/n's hands across the table.

"We've been looking for a year. There hasn't been the slightest bit of evidence. I... I can't do it anymore. I have to move on."

And move on they did. With their husband gone, there were empty shoes to be filled among the overlords of Hell and who better to fill them than Y/n? They worked hard, training. They grew strong and it payed off at last when two and a half years after their husband's disappearance, Y/n managed to take down an overlord, officially indoctrinating them into their ranks.

The more time went on, the more feared of a figure they became. Y/n had hoped it would have been a distraction, carrying on Alastor's legacy. The loneliness ate away at them. He had always been there, and now he was suddenly gone. The more powerful they became, the more they retreated into themselves. They became a rumor, a name whispered behind closed doors.

Y/n still held out a spark of hope that one day, Alastor would return. As they hit the seven year line since his disappearance, that too fizzled out. Things were getting bad in Hell, the last extermination had been the most brutal in history. Just the other day, word had come in that Heaven wasn't even going to wait their normal year before the next one, only a meager six months. Even with Y/n's aversion to all things media, they were only a painful reminder of what they had lost, after all, they managed to hear about it. It was a big deal, and a terrifying one too.

Of course, in response to this, Carmilla had called a meeting. When Carmilla Carmine called a meeting, there wasn't an overlord in all of Hell who wasn't going to show up. It was serious, she meant buisness.

Y/n had dragged themselves out of the place that had become their home over the past seven years. One of the first things they had taught themselves how to do was to travel through shadows, the way their husband had. With a snap of their fingers, the shadows took them, spitting them back out in the waiting room of Carmilla's offices.

Looking around, Y/n caught sight of Rosie and approached their oldest friend.

"Hey, Rose." they hummed placidly.

"Oh! Y/n! What a pleasure to see you here." she smiled back, turning to face them, "I half expected you wouldn't show."

"You know me." Y/n shrugged, "I come when it's important."

"I'm worried about you." Rosie admitted after a moment, her smile faltering slightly, "You've been spotted out and about less and less."

"I'm fine, I promise." Y/n weakly reassured, "I'm drinking water and touching grass or whatever. I just... socializing isn't super my thing anymore."

"Yes but, you're putting a target on your back doing that." Rosie insisted, "People are going to start wondering, start questioning your power and authority. You should at least go rough someone up, or start a business! Establish your presence."

"Don't worry, Rose." Y/n smiled, their mouth full of razor sharp fangs, "Let 'em come. I can take care of myself now."

"That you can." she relented.

Y/n turned, surveying the room which held a handful of Hell's other top overlords. They recognized a couple, but there were a few they didn't know. They let out a sigh, eyes turning to the elevator doors as they slid open to reveal Zestial.

Y/n raised their hand, intending to wave a greeting to the oldest and most respected of their group as he entered the room, but froze. Their hand at chest level, their eyes went wide as they caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair.

"Fucking... Al?" they whispered, their arm falling to their side as they took half a step forward.

"What did you say?" Rosie asked.

It sounded like her voice was coming from somewhere underwater, the world was spinning.

"What's the matter?" Rosie asked, following the path of Y/n's gaze.

As her eyes landed on Alastor, standing clear as day at the other end of the room and casually conversing with Zestial, she gasped lightly.

"Oh my."

"I'll be back in a second, Rose." Y/n hissed through clenched teeth, their hands balled into tight fists.

With fluid, silent footfalls, they stormed across the room and came to a stop beside Alastor. The room fell silent at the sight. They all knew of the pair's story, had heard from Rosie about how long and how hard Y/n had searched for their husband. Hearing the silence, Alastor turned, his eyes locking with Y/n's.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, placing a hand gently on the top of their head, "How have you been, darling? Zestial was just telling me about what great strides you-"

Y/n harshly took his hand from their head, the strength with which they held his wrist cutting Alastor off. They took a step forward, now just an inch away from Alastor as they glared up at him. Fury coursed through their veins as he watched them in mild confusion.

"Seven years." Y/n scoffed.

Alastor made no reply, simply continuing to watch his spouse as they practically frothed at the mouth.

"Seven fucking years." they repeated, releasing the grip on his wrist.

"I'm here now."

The slap echoed through the silence like the crack of a whip. Alastor stumbled back to slightest bit, his hand raised to his cheek.

"You..." Y/n took a deep breath, trying to calm themselves, "Al, where the fuck were you? How... how long have you been back?"

"A few days." he admitted.

Y/n's eyes widened as they processed the information.

"A... a few days?" they scoffed, "A few days? You know what? You didn't tell me when you left, why should I have expected you'd tell me you were back."

Y/n turned away from him, rubbing their forehead in irritation. Alastor hesitated before taking a step forward, placing a hand gently on their shoulder.

"Lov-"

"What?" Y/n spat, spinning back around to face him.

Their teeth were sharp, elongated and dripping. Tears welled in their eyes. Alastor's breath caught in his chest.

"Fucking what?!"

"Please, let me make it up to you." his voice was soft and gentle, the same one he used when they were alone together.

"I..." Y/n took another deep breath, "I don't know if you can."

Tears were streaming down their cheeks now, falling thick and fast. Their body glitched, half transformed into their full demon state and half staying as their more human public face. It pained him to see. If he had had any other choice, he would have done something different. He had never wanted to hurt them. Alastor reached out, grabbing their hands in his.

"Please, let me try."

"Why should I!" Y/n screamed back at him, pulling their hands out of his reach, "Seven years! Seven fucking years! You promised me. You promised me we'd stick together."

The grief seemed to be winning in its battle over the anger as the glitches slowed. Their teeth shrunk back to normal and their voice faded, becoming softer, weaker.

"I'll explain everything just please, please give me a chance."

Y/n sighed. Lifting their hands to their face, they pressed their palms into their eyes. They stood like that for a moment, unmoving and silent. Alastor waited, tense with anticipation. At last, they looked up at him once again, their arms falling loosely to their sides.

"Fine." they sharply stated and Alastor's smile grew, "After the meeting. You get as much time as it takes me to drink a cup of coffee. Deal?"

"Deal."

----

A/N ngl I wasn't super sure how to end this fic but I really like it and this was such a fun request to write. I love and angry reader.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

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