#I hope I can give some of that wonder back even if as a fraction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fr0stf4ll · 28 days ago

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A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 6

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 9k (long ass chapter lol)

Trigger warning; //

notes; Hello my loves <3 HAPPY NEW YEAR woohooo!!! Sorry for not posting these last few days, but they’ve been looong with all the celebrations. Plus, I had to travel back to my place, and it took forever. So today, you’ll not only get part 6, but also part 7 ;) (it should be up in the next few minutes). This chapter was actually pretty hard for me to write because I had doubts about where to take the story or if I should give more or fewer clues about Y/N’s background. Either way, don’t hesitate to comment because even if I don’t reply to all of you, I definitely read them, and I loveeee getting those notifications. Well, see you in a few minutes for part 7 lol <3

Link; Part 5 or Part 7

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Late afternoon shadows stretched across Velaris as you and Cassian stepped off the bridge leading into the quieter district near the clinic. Both of you were weary—three days in Illyria had taxed your energy, even if the journey home was less fraught than the work you’d done in the camps. Your cloak felt heavier than usual, boots scuffing softly on the cobblestones as you approached the modest building that housed the clinic’s entrance and your apartment above it.

Cassian’s shoulders slumped a little, wings drooping as he glanced at you. “We made it,” he said, voice carrying a note of relief. “Another successful adventure survived.” His smile was a bit lopsided, but genuine.

You managed a small chuckle, rolling your stiff shoulders. “A success, I hope,” you answered quietly. “At least some of them seemed open to new methods.”

He nodded, raking a hand through his hair. “They’ll never admit it, but they’ll use what you taught them. You left an impression, Y/N.”

The simple honesty in his tone warmed you. The clinic door beckoned, safety and rest just inside. You paused at the threshold, turning to face him. “Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “I know you had other duties, but I’m grateful you lent your presence—and, frankly, your muscle—to ensure no one gave me too hard a time.”

Cassian shrugged, easy humor returning for a moment. “Any excuse to keep the Illyrians in line.” He sobered a fraction, studying you with quiet sincerity. “I’m glad I could help.”

A silence fell, not uncomfortable but weighted with the fatigue of the journey. At length, Cassian cleared his throat, as if remembering something. “Oh, right,” he said, seeming almost amused by whatever he’d forgotten. “Before I go—Rhys asked me to pass along an invitation. He’d like you to join him, Feyre, and a few others for dinner tomorrow night at their townhouse in Velaris. It’s a sort of… well, I guess a welcome dinner now that you’re truly back in the Night Court.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a spark of gratitude lit behind them. “Dinner?” you repeated, a bit taken aback. “That’s… an honor. I—” You hesitated, a hundred questions floating to your mind. You weren’t sure what one normally did when invited to the High Lord’s home for a meal. “Should I bring anything?” you asked, half-wondering if a gift or some rare herbs might be customary.

Cassian’s grin turned playful. “Bring yourself,” he said simply. “That’s all they’ll want. Trust me, Rhys and Feyre don’t stand on ceremony with friends. Consider it an evening to relax, maybe talk about what’s next.” His gaze flicked over the clinic’s door, then back to you, voice softening. “You deserve a good meal and a bit of comfort after the work you’ve done.”

Touched by his words, you nodded. “All right,” you agreed. “I’ll be there.”

“Perfect.” He exhaled, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Now, I’d better let you rest. I think we’ve both earned a good night’s sleep.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Absolutely,” you said, resting a hand on the door’s latch. “Sleep well, Cassian.”

He gave you a salute that was half-mocking, half-genuine, wings fluttering as he turned away and headed down the street. You watched him go for a moment, then slipped inside the clinic, fatigue tugging at your limbs. Tomorrow, you would face the High Lord’s table, and perhaps some quieter conversations that might shape the next phase of your return.

For now, rest called, and you followed it gratefully up the stairs to your apartment, thoughts drifting between memories of Illyria’s harsh mountains and the warm promise of dinner among unlikely allies.

Back inside the familiar confines of the clinic, you paused just inside the door, drawing in the scents of linen and dried herbs that always lingered in the halls. Your joints ached a bit from the journey, but routine called, and you answered it. Before heading upstairs to your apartment, you moved through the quiet corridors to the records room. A low lamp flickered there, its glow soft against the shelves.

You ran your fingertips along the ledgers, pulling out the records from the past three days. Your eyes skimmed the entries, scanning notes that Elira and the other healers had left. No major emergencies, you read with relief—only a few minor wounds, a mild fever, the usual aches and pains. The neat handwriting confirmed that Elira had continued training the younger healers as planned. She’d even left a brief note: All went well. The younger ones are picking up the new bandaging technique quickly.

A small smile touched your lips. Good. Progress, even in your absence.

Satisfied that the clinic had fared well without you, you tucked the ledger back into place and turned toward the stairs. The promise of rest beckoned, and you ascended quietly, passing familiar sconces that flickered in the gentle air currents. Upstairs, your apartment welcomed you with its calm silence. You shrugged off your cloak, letting it fall over a chair, and considered the state of your legs and back. A warm bath—yes, that would be perfect.

You crossed to the small bathroom, lighting a few candles along the way. The soft glow gilded the tiled walls and the simple, claw-footed tub. Setting the faucet, you allowed steaming water to pour in, scenting it with a bit of lavender oil you kept for moments like these. As the tub filled and steam rose, you breathed deeply, letting the tension roll off your shoulders.

So much had happened—Illyria, the uncertain dynamics in the Night Court’s inner circle, and tomorrow, a dinner invitation from the High Lord himself. But for now, here, in this private sanctuary, you could let all that fade. Stripping out of your travel-stained clothes, you sank into the bath, the warm water cradling your tired muscles. The quiet of the evening settled over you, and the lavender-soaked steam eased the lingering edges of worry.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges and discoveries. Tonight, you granted yourself peace.

—————

When evening arrived, you found yourself walking through Velaris’s softly lit streets, a bundle of carefully chosen flowers nestled in the crook of your arm. You’d spent much of the day working at the clinic as usual, but your mind had drifted often to the upcoming dinner. Now, wearing a simple but neat outfit—something presentable without being ostentatious—you followed the directions Cassian had given you, making your way toward the High Lord and High Lady’s townhouse.

Your heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and nerves. It wasn’t as if you were heading into battle, but meeting them on such personal terms, in their private home, was a new threshold. You hadn’t seen Azriel since returning from Illyria, and though he might be present, you tried not to focus on that too much. This evening wasn’t about your confused feelings or the golden thread that tugged quietly at your awareness. It was about respect, camaraderie, and, hopefully, laughter over good food.

Rounding a corner, you came upon the district where the townhouse stood. The soft glow of streetlamps illuminated quiet lanes, and music drifted faintly from some distant party. Ahead, you spotted the house described to you—a graceful building of warm-colored stone and gently sloping roofs. It was large enough to accommodate their inner circle and guests, yet it didn’t loom or flaunt opulence. Instead, it exuded a gentle, welcoming aura.

Plants climbed trellises along the exterior, flowering vines weaving patterns around balconies and window frames. You caught the scent of night-blooming jasmine mingling with roses and citrus blossoms, an elegant tapestry of nature’s perfume draped over the home. It felt alive, this house—a place nurtured by caring hands. A place of growth and warmth.

Approaching the door, you paused to straighten your posture and smooth your clothes. The flowers you carried were modest and cheerful—nothing exotic or rare, just a vibrant mix of blooms from a local florist. You’d considered bringing wine, but after a moment’s reflection, you realized that whatever bottle you could afford would be outshone by the contents of their likely well-stocked cellar. Flowers, though, offered color, scent, and sincerity. That, you hoped, would be appreciated.

Exhaling slowly, you stepped forward, footfalls muffled by the ivy-softened walkway. The door’s brass knocker gleamed in the lamplight. You raised your free hand and knocked gently, heart fluttering once more. Perhaps it was silly to be nervous. You’d healed impossible wounds, steered conversations with stubborn Lords, and confronted your own uncertainties. You could handle a dinner invitation.

As you waited for someone to answer, you let your gaze drift along the eaves and sills. Lanterns dangled from hooks, their glass panels casting soft patterns of light and shadow across the entryway. Everything felt harmonious and attentive to detail—a reflection, perhaps, of the people who lived inside.

In a moment, you would be ushered in, welcomed as a friend or colleague rather than a mere visitor. The thought steadied you. The flowers shifted in your arms, and their gentle fragrance rose to meet you, a reminder that some gestures spoke volumes without words.

You were here, and you would face whatever the evening brought with an open heart.

The door swung open to reveal Feyre, her hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders, a gentle smile illuminating her features. She wore something elegant but not showy, a simple gown that played up her natural grace. When she saw you, her eyes lit even brighter, and she reached out, enfolding you in a warm, unexpected hug. It eased a little of the tension that had coiled in your chest.

“You’re here,” she said, voice calm and welcoming. “We’re so glad you could come.”

You offered her the bouquet, a mix of vivid blooms you’d chosen with care. Her eyes widened slightly, delighted. “They’re beautiful—thank you. I know a perfect spot for these.” She stepped back, holding the flowers with a careful tenderness, as if the gift mattered more than you’d dared hope.

She ushered you inside, and you slipped off your coat. Though it hadn’t snowed that day, a crisp chill still lingered in Velaris’s winter air, and the townhouse’s warmth wrapped around you like a soft cloak. Feyre guided you through a well-lit hallway into the living room, where conversation and laughter wove a gentle tapestry over the hush of the evening.

Rhysand rose from an armchair near the hearth to greet you, his violet eyes reflecting the lamplight. “Welcome,” he said, voice smooth and sincere. “Please, make yourself at home. You’ve already met Cassian and Azriel, but allow me to introduce the rest.”

Your gaze swept over the room. Cassian stood near the mantel, a glass of wine in hand, and as you glanced at him, he offered a lazy grin. Azriel was positioned a bit to the side, one arm resting along the back of a sofa. His bandages were gone, leaving faint lines of healing scars hidden beneath well-tailored clothing. He inclined his head softly when your eyes met, acknowledging your presence without fuss.

Seated near Azriel was a stunning blonde female—radiant and poised. Her beauty caught your attention immediately. Feyre noticed your look and added with a smile, “This is Mor—Morrigan. She’s family.”

Mor raised her glass in greeting, her hazel eyes warm with easy camaraderie. “Nice to finally meet you,” she said, voice touched with a hint of laughter, as if you’d arrived just in time for something pleasant.

Another figure caught your eye next: a smaller female, perched on the arm of a chair. Her silver eyes were sharp, ancient somehow, set into a refined face and framed by dark hair. This, you guessed, must be Amren. Your heart gave a small jolt of surprise—she was the one you’d heard described as powerful and formidable, yet she merely gave you a faint nod, assessing and cool, but not impolite.

Near Cassian stood another woman, her posture elegant, her features bearing a clear familial resemblance to Feyre. This must be Nesta—Feyre’s sister, the one who you’d heard was mated to Cassian. Her gaze was direct, but not hostile; perhaps curious, as if measuring who you were and why you’d been invited into their circle. You offered her a respectful smile, and she inclined her head in a subtle, regal manner.

The atmosphere was cordial, tinted with curiosity and acceptance. The fire crackled softly behind you, the scent of rich food and spices drifting in from another room. Feyre gestured to a free chair and you sat, the others resuming their conversations, weaving you naturally into their midst.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Azriel shift slightly, watching the interplay of introductions. Morrigan turned to say something to him, drawing his attention away and giving you a moment to breathe, to take in that you were truly here, part of this intimate gathering.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Feyre said, settling beside Rhysand, who’d gently clasped her hand. “Until then, relax. We’ve all been looking forward to getting to know you better.”

With those words and the warmth in the room, you felt some of your lingering tension melt away. You were among allies, in a house so beautifully tended, with plants climbing the windows and laughter in the air. It was easy, in that moment, to let yourself belong just a little more to this court you were slowly making home.

As you settled into a free chair near the hearth, the soft hum of conversation enveloped you. The group arranged themselves in a loose circle of armchairs and sofas, each face illuminated by the gentle firelight and the glow of simple lanterns placed around the room. Feyre had taken a seat beside Rhysand, her hand resting comfortably on his arm, while Cassian lounged near Nesta and Azriel, who remained quietly attentive. Mor perched gracefully on a low ottoman, crossing her long legs with casual elegance, and Amren claimed a small armchair as if it were a throne, her silver eyes keen but not hostile.

Feyre, ever the thoughtful hostess, spoke first. “You’ve just returned from Illyria, haven’t you?” Her voice was warm, genuine curiosity shining through. “Cassian told us a bit about your work there. How did it go?”

You drew a steady breath, aware of more eyes turning your way. “It was… challenging,” you admitted with a half-smile. “The healers were skilled but set in their ways. I managed to introduce a few new techniques. Some were skeptical, but I think a few caught on.”

Cassian gave a snort from his spot by the mantel. “Some of them were more than skeptical. Let’s say they were resistant until they saw the results.” His grin flashed, clearly proud of how you’d handled the situation.

Mor tilted her head, golden curls slipping over one shoulder. “Resistance is standard there,” she said, amused. “I’m impressed you made progress so quickly. Usually, it takes a century or two to change an Illyrian’s mind about anything.”

A ripple of light laughter flowed through the room. Even Nesta’s lips curved slightly, though her gaze remained measured. “They can be stubborn,” Nesta agreed quietly. “But if you got them to listen, you’ve accomplished a minor miracle.”

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you then, calm and thoughtful. “Any particular technique you introduced that might stand out for them?” he asked softly, voice barely above the crackle of the fire. There was interest, maybe respect, underlying the question.

You smoothed a hand over your knee, considering. “I combined some Dawn Court infusion methods with local herbs to create salves that heal burns and cuts faster. Also taught them how to more efficiently close a wound using layered bandaging, so it breathes and doesn’t trap infection.” Your shoulders relaxed as you spoke, talking shop easing the tension in your chest. “It’s subtle changes that matter over time.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “Subtle changes often pave the way for greater shifts. Even if they don’t appreciate it now, they’ll notice the difference when their warriors recover more swiftly.”

Amren’s silver eyes narrowed with interest. “You sound like someone who doesn’t fear digging into traditions,” she commented. “I suppose traveling the continents taught you that?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Exactly,” you said. “Every place I visited had a different approach to healing. By the time I returned, I carried a blend of knowledge. Challenging ingrained habits is never easy, but I believe if we show results, people adapt.”

As the conversation in the living room flowed around you, your attention drifted to Azriel, who’d been listening quietly while the others exchanged stories. Under the soft glow of the lamps, he seemed more at ease than the last time you’d seen him—no bandages, no pained tension in his posture. But you knew better than to assume all was perfect.

Leaning forward slightly, you caught his eye. “Azriel,” you began, your voice low enough that the others, caught up in their chatter, wouldn’t be distracted. “How are your injuries feeling now?”

He blinked, as if brought out of private thoughts. The edge of his mouth curved in a faint but genuine smile. “Much better,” he replied softly, voice smooth and controlled. “Your treatments worked wonders.”

A small surge of satisfaction warmed you. “I’m glad. I worried about scarring, especially on the wings, but it seems my methods held.”

Azriel inclined his head, shadows shifting imperceptibly at his shoulders. “They did. I owe you more gratitude than I can put into words.”

You waved a hand dismissively, though not unkindly. “No need for grand thanks. It’s what I do.” After a brief moment, you continued, “If you find yourself running low on ointment or salve—anything for lingering aches—you’re welcome to stop by the clinic. I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

His eyes flickered slightly, a hint of something unreadable passing there. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, voice still gentle. “Though I think it’s my turn to follow the rules this time. I won’t risk mixing anything that’s not from your hands.”

A quiet huff of amusement escaped you. “Good,” you said, pleased to note even the faintest humor there. “I’d prefer no more surprise remedies.”

He almost smiled fully at that, and you found yourself relieved—relieved that he’d healed, relieved that you could speak amicably, and relieved that, even amidst lingering complexities, you could offer him help without awkwardness.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his attention shifting fully to you. “Your skill with Illyrian wings is… notable,” he said, voice calm and curious. “It’s not often we see someone outside these mountains who can treat wing injuries with such precision. Where did you learn that?”

You swallowed, noticing how everyone’s gaze had angled your way. Azriel’s dark eyes were steady, Cassian’s brows lifted with mild interest, and Mor sipped her wine, listening quietly. “I owe much to Madja,” you said with a small shrug, trying to sound offhanded. “In my youth, under her tutelage, I spent time observing healings of various kinds. When I traveled to the Dawn Court, I worked extensively with peregryns. Between the two experiences, I pieced together techniques that transfer well.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, and you sensed approval rather than suspicion. Feyre offered a gentle smile, as if pleased to understand more about your background. Azriel only gave the faintest tilt of his head, acknowledging your explanation.

Before anyone could delve deeper, the door opened softly, and you all turned. Elain stepped into the room, cradling a small bundle in her arms. The atmosphere shifted; the hush that followed her appearance was softer, lighter. She carried a baby—a tiny figure swaddled in soft linens. At the sight of you, Elain’s eyes went wide, a brief flicker of something like panic crossing her face. She managed a stiff, silent nod in your direction, acknowledging your presence.

She crossed the floor and carefully handed the baby to Feyre before moving to sit next to Azriel. The subtle tension that flared in the air didn’t go unnoticed by you. Seeing her choose a seat near Azriel struck a chord, stirring a quiet ache in your chest. The memory of misunderstandings and the complexities of their relationship hovered in your mind.

Feyre, noticing the moment, turned toward you with a warm, bright smile and the infant cradled securely in her arms. “This is Nyx,” she said softly, pride and love coloring every syllable. She stepped closer, letting you see the baby’s tiny, delicate features, the soft tufts of dark hair. “Our son.”

Your heart softened at the sight, and you drew a careful breath. “He’s beautiful,” you murmured, the tension easing slightly at the simple purity of this introduction. “Congratulations.”

Feyre’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you,” she said, rocking Nyx gently. After a moment, she glanced toward Elain and then back to you. “I should also introduce you to my sister, Elain. But I believe you’ve already met?”

Your eyes darted to Elain, who offered another small, tense smile. “Yes,” you confirmed quietly. “We’ve met.” The memory of the morning with Azriel’s injury still flickered in the back of your mind. Elain’s panic that day, her attempt to help gone wrong.

The baby cooed softly, wriggling a tiny arm free from the swaddle, and Feyre adjusted him tenderly. The simple, gentle act redirected your focus to something simpler and kinder. In that moment, held in Feyre’s arms, Nyx represented a softness and hope that contrasted sharply against the intricate bonds and tensions that wove this inner circle together.

You lifted your gaze, meeting Elain’s eyes briefly. She looked away, cheeks coloring faintly, before focusing on Azriel and the room’s gentle chatter. A hush of understanding passed—whatever had happened before still lingered, unspoken and unresolved, but for tonight, perhaps it could remain beneath the surface, overshadowed by the presence of family and the simple joy of a new life in their midst.

You blinked, noting the tiny, budding wings peeking out from Nyx’s swaddle. It took a moment for the sight to register—Feyre and Rhysand’s child had wings. The world narrowed briefly to that small detail, a realization that sent a pulse of concern through your chest. Memories stirred of the quiet horrors you’d learned about: how some winged births could end tragically if the mother’s body wasn’t prepared.

“Oh,” you said softly, voice hushed. “He has wings.” The words escaped before you could smooth your tone. You turned your gaze to Feyre, eyes wide with a hint of shock. “Are—are you all right?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. You knew how risky such births could be, how many mothers—non-winged mothers—lost their lives or their children. The knowledge spilled out in your startled tone, too raw and honest.

As soon as the question left your lips, you caught yourself. This was personal, deeply so, and it might not be your place to ask. A flush warmed your cheeks, and you cleared your throat softly. “I’m sorry,” you murmured quickly, lowering your eyes. “That was intrusive. I didn’t mean—”

Feyre’s smile was gentle, understanding. She shifted Nyx slightly, rocking him in a way that spoke of deep maternal comfort. “It’s all right,” she said quietly, voice kind and steady. “I know it can be dangerous. It was. But I’m fine now—truly.”

She exhaled softly, sharing a glance with Rhysand who offered a reassuring nod. “We had a lot of support, the best healers, and… let’s just say there were extraordinary circumstances that helped.” Feyre’s tone carried quiet resilience, as if acknowledging a trial endured and overcome.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief and admiration washed over you. “I’m glad,” you said simply, heartfelt. The image of the tiny, safe baby cradled in Feyre’s arms, half winged and wholly loved, took the sting out of your earlier alarm.

Nyx stirred, letting out a small, contented noise, as if confirming that all was indeed well. And so, in that moment, you allowed yourself to trust in their strength and the healing they had found—together, in this extraordinary court.

The dining table was set with care and elegance, an array of dishes spread like a tapestry of flavors and colors. Feyre had returned after settling Nyx down for the night, and now she sat beside Rhysand, her eyes brighter, freer, as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. You were seated between Amren and Mor, with Azriel directly across from you. The air hummed with conversation, the gentle clink of silverware, and the faint glow of faelight sconces casting a warm gleam over crystal and china.

The food was beyond anything you’d tasted in recent memory—roasted vegetables drizzled with spiced oils, tender meats seasoned to perfection, a fresh salad of night-blooming flowers and herbs that tasted of moonlit gardens. Between bites, you couldn’t help small hums of appreciation. Mor grinned at your delighted expression, whispering that Feyre and Rhys knew how to choose their cooks wisely. Amren, on your left, merely arched an eyebrow, as if such quality was the norm in this household.

Across the table, Rhysand and Feyre spoke quietly with Azriel about the latest developments with Koshiev’s faction. They didn’t hide the topic, but neither did they elaborate on grim details unnecessarily. Still, the tension was palpable.

Cassian, seated beside Nesta, seemed to pick up on the unease radiating from her. He leaned closer, murmuring something low that drew a reluctant smirk from her lips—a rare crack in her otherwise steely demeanor.

The conversation shifted, soft murmurs filling the dining room as everyone seemed to settle into their own thoughts. But your gaze lingered, drawn to the quiet interactions between Azriel and Elain.

They weren’t doing anything outright inappropriate, of course. Yet the way Azriel leaned slightly toward her, his shadows curling faintly around her seat as though they couldn’t help themselves—it was subtle, but unmistakable. And Elain, for all her delicate, quiet nature, didn’t seem to shy away from him. If anything, the small glances she cast in his direction, the way her hand lingered near his on the table, spoke volumes.

Something was going on between those two. That much you were sure of.

But didn’t she have a mate?

The thought gnawed at you. From what you’d learned during your short time with this group, the bond between mates was supposed to be unbreakable, undeniable. A rare gift—or curse, depending on how one saw it. Yet here was Elain, sitting close to Azriel, her mate nowhere to be found.

You couldn’t help but recall the low, tense conversation you’d overheard between Rhysand and Azriel days ago. Their voices had been hushed, but you’d caught enough to piece together fragments. It had been about Elain, about Azriel’s feelings for her—and about how complicated the whole situation was.

Even tonight, the tension was palpable. Rhysand and Feyre avoided looking too long in Azriel and Elain’s direction, as if their mere proximity might ignite something. Cassian’s joviality had dimmed slightly, and even Mor seemed unusually reserved.

You shifted in your seat, the unease settling in your chest like a stone. Whatever was unfolding here felt like a precarious balancing act, one wrong move away from shattering entirely.

It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself firmly—because at the end of the day, you barely knew him. Whatever flicker of connection you’d felt when you first crossed paths with Azriel had been just that: a flicker.

Still, you couldn’t entirely ignore the truth you’d kept to yourself. That he was your mate.

You hadn’t planned to speak of it, not now, perhaps not ever. What would be the point? He didn’t seem to know, and you weren’t about to disrupt the fragile balance of this group—or his life—by bringing it up.

But watching him now, seeing the way his gaze softened for Elain, the way his shadows seemed drawn to her as if they couldn’t help themselves... it unsettled you.

You reached for your glass of wine, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem. It wasn’t your place to interfere, nor did you want to. And yet, the sight stirred something uncomfortable in you—an ache you couldn’t quite place, an unease that whispered of things better left buried.

For now, you resolved, you would tread carefully. Whatever this was, it wasn’t your story to tell.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed, you caught snippets of Mor and Feyre discussing the upcoming Solstice celebrations. Their voices carried a mix of excitement and warmth, and even those not directly involved in the planning seemed to lean in slightly, drawn by the festive air.

“Everything’s nearly set,” Mor said with a grin, her golden eyes glimmering. “But I still think we need more lights. You can never have too many.”

Feyre laughed softly, shaking her head. “We’re already bordering on blinding half the Sidra with what we’ve got planned.”

“Exactly,” Mor countered. “Bordering. Not quite there yet.”

The exchange drew a small chuckle from the others, and soon the table was animated with chatter about the Solstice—decorations, food, gifts, the music for the evening. You found yourself listening quietly, a faint smile on your lips as their excitement filled the room.

Then Cassian turned to you, curiosity lighting his hazel eyes. “What about you, Y/N? What are you planning for the Solstice?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Working,” you said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Cassian stared at you, his expression shifting from surprised to faintly unimpressed. “You’re working?” he repeated, as though the concept was completely foreign to him.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your wine. “I gave the night and the day after to the other healers,” you explained matter-of-factly. “They have families to spend it with.”

His blunt stare didn’t waver. “And you don’t?”

The question hung in the air for a beat too long. You didn’t flinch, though. Instead, you gave him a small, wry smile. “Not in the traditional sense,” you replied. “I’ve spent most of my life on the road. Holidays are just... nights like any other to me.”

Mor frowned slightly, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something, but Feyre beat her to it. “You could spend it with us,” she offered warmly, her eyes soft and kind. “If you’re free after your shift, of course.”

You hesitated, glancing around the table at the faces watching you. “That’s kind of you,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I’ll see how the night goes, but I wouldn’t count on me. Those nights tend to be pretty busy.”

Cassian still didn’t look entirely pleased, but he let the topic drop, turning to Azriel to mutter something under his breath. Across from you, Feyre and Mor resumed their discussion about the preparations, but you noticed the glances they shot your way from time to time.

The Solstice was supposed to be a time of joy, of togetherness. And yet, for you, it had always been a reminder of the distances you’d kept—between yourself and others, between your past and your present. Maybe this year would be different. But you weren’t ready to hope for that just yet.

Nesta, her tone gentle yet curious, asked, “Don’t you have family here in Velaris? Since it’s where you’re from?”

Cassian’s head turned sharply to her, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. He looked like he was about to respond, but you stopped him with a soft smile, silently telling him it was okay.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice steady but quieter now, the words laced with a faint melancholy. “My parents passed away when I was still a child. And... it wasn’t exactly a union their families approved of. My father was a High Fae, and my mother was Illyrian.”

The table fell silent, the weight of your admission settling over the group.

Feyre’s expression softened, her brows knitting together as if piecing together what your childhood must have been like. Even Amren’s usually sharp gaze seemed to flicker with a faint glimmer of understanding.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his voice low and thoughtful. “A High Fae and an Illyrian,” he mused, his violet eyes locking onto yours with a knowing look. “That couldn’t have been easy for them—or for you.”

You nodded, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t. My mother’s family saw her as a traitor for leaving the war-camps. And my father’s family... well, let’s just say they weren’t thrilled about him choosing someone they considered beneath him. They tried to make it work, but the rejection on both sides was... hard.”

Rhysand’s lips curved into a faint, understanding smile tinged with something more—perhaps a trace of his own memories. “My parents were mates,” he said softly. “But even that bond didn’t shield my mother from what she endured because she was Illyrian. My father’s court viewed her as an outsider, no matter that she was his equal in every way.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his willingness to share the parallel. A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. “Then I suppose you understand better than most.”

He inclined his head. “More than you might think. My mother bore the burdens of being Illyrian with grace, but I saw the way it chipped away at her. The way others refused to see her worth simply because of where she came from.”

The room was quiet for a beat longer, the group absorbing the weight of your shared experiences.

“Did they stay in Velaris?” Nesta asked gently, her voice curious but kind.

“They tried,” you said, your voice softening even more. “Velaris was my mother’s dream. She wanted a place where their love could thrive without the judgment of others. But it wasn’t that simple. My father’s family refused to acknowledge me, and my mother’s kin wanted nothing to do with either of us. They both passed when I was young, so... it’s just been me for a long time.”

Cassian shifted, his hand tightening briefly around his glass. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in his body told you all you needed to know—he hated the thought of you enduring that kind of isolation.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quietly, her voice warm with empathy.

You offered her a small smile, the sting of the memory softened by time. “It’s all right. I’ve built my life on my own terms since then. And Velaris... it’s still home.”

Rhysand nodded, his gaze steady. “Velaris is the City of Starlight. But it’s also a sanctuary for those who need it. And no matter what, you’ll always have a place here.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was nod, your chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and something you couldn’t quite name.

The laughter faded into a comfortable hum, and Rhysand glanced at you again, his tone turning slightly more serious. “Speaking of important matters, are the preparations for your trip to the Dawn Court coming along?”

You nodded, resting your hands on the edge of the table. “It’s going well,” you said. “I’m not rushing, though. The meeting isn’t for a few weeks, so there’s time to finalize everything.”

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, narrowed his eyes slightly. “What meeting?”

You met his gaze evenly. “The head healers of all the courts are gathering to discuss the rising tensions in the world. It’s not something we do often—every ten or twenty years, if that. But given everything that’s been happening lately, it was decided that now’s the time to meet.”

Feyre leaned forward, her brows knitting together in curiosity. “Even though you’ve only recently taken over from Madja, isn’t that going to be... challenging for you?”

Her question was genuine, not unkind, and you offered her a soft smile. “Not as much as you might think,” you replied. “I already know all of them. Either they trained me, or I’ve trained them at some point.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Well, look at you. The prodigy of Prythian’s healers.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, though the corners of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Hardly. It’s more about connections and trust. It’s easier to work with people when you’ve already built a rapport.”

“True enough,” Rhysand said, his voice thoughtful. “But there’s still a lot of weight in those meetings. Decisions made there could affect countless lives.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “I’m aware. That’s why it’s important we all come together now. We have to be prepared for what might come next, no matter where it starts.”

Cassian broke the tension with a grin. “Still betting it’ll be less of a disaster than a High Lords’ meeting?”

Laughter rippled around the table again, and you shrugged with a playful smirk. “I’d say so. We’re less inclined to argue over who’s the most powerful and more focused on practical solutions.”

“Speak for yourself,” Amren muttered dryly. “I’d argue just for fun.”

The table erupted into laughter, the light-heartedness returning as the conversation shifted to lighter topics once more.

Dinner naturally came to an end, and the group shifted to the living room. The atmosphere turned even more relaxed as the evening stretched on. Cups of tea were passed around for some, while others nursed glasses of wine or stronger spirits. The crackle of the fire in the hearth added a cozy backdrop to the low hum of conversation and occasional laughter.

You found yourself sinking into a plush armchair, your fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea. The soft glow of the firelight played across the room, highlighting the easy camaraderie between everyone. This wasn’t just a group of warriors and leaders—they were a family. Even in their teasing, you could sense the unshakable bonds that connected them, forged by shared history and unwavering loyalty.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax, taking in the sight of them. Feyre and Rhysand were curled up together on a loveseat, Cassian sprawled across a large sofa with Mor perched at the other end, her laughter ringing out as he recounted some likely exaggerated tale. Nesta sat nearby, a book in hand, though her attention occasionally drifted to the conversation.

But as your gaze wandered, you noticed something—or rather, someone—missing. Neither Elain nor Azriel was present. The realization sent a small, unwanted pang through your chest, one you quickly buried. Whatever their reasons for leaving, it wasn’t your concern. It couldn’t be.

When your tea was finished, you placed the empty cup delicately on the table before rising to your feet. “Thank you for the lovely evening,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “But I should head back. There’s still some work I need to wrap up before the night’s over.”

Cassian glanced up from his drink, his grin playful as always. “You’re leaving already? And here I thought Azriel was the workaholic around here, but you might actually be worse.”

His words, though light-hearted, made something twist in your stomach. You tried to brush it off, but then he glanced around the room and added, “Speaking of which... where is Az? Slacking off for once?”

“Leave it, Cassian,” Rhysand interjected smoothly. His voice was calm, but the sharpness in his violet gaze betrayed a flicker of curiosity—or perhaps understanding—as his eyes darted to you. He didn’t press the issue, but the weight of his brief look lingered all the same.

Feyre stood and approached you, her steps fluid and graceful. She wrapped you in a warm hug, her arms firm but gentle. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “It was nice having you here. We’ll have to do this again soon.”

You returned the embrace, her kindness settling some of the unease lingering in your chest. “I’d like that,” you replied sincerely, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Cassian’s voice broke through the moment as Feyre stepped back. “You know, if you’re working this late, you might actually give Az a run for his money,” he teased. Then, with a mock thoughtful look, he added, “Though I guess he’s not here to defend his title. Convenient.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe he’s finally taking a well-deserved break,” you said, keeping your tone light as you glanced toward the door.

Rhysand’s gaze followed yours, but he said nothing. The slight quirk of his lips suggested he’d noticed something, but whatever it was, he chose to keep it to himself—for now.

With a final round of goodnights, you stepped out into the cool night air. They were a family, and while you didn’t quite feel like part of it yet, the warmth they’d shown you was undeniable.

As you walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, the crisp night air nipping at your skin, your gaze lifted instinctively to the sky. The stars above were breathtaking—countless pinpricks of light scattered across an endless expanse of velvet black. They seemed so serene, so untouched by the weight of the world below. For a moment, you let yourself be lost in their beauty, your steps slowing as if the universe itself was urging you to pause.

You didn’t notice the tears until a cold droplet slid down your cheek, and then another. Startled, you reached up to brush your fingers against your face, finding your skin wet. Confusion prickled at the edges of your thoughts as you stared at the small drops clinging to your fingertips. You weren’t sad. At least, you didn’t think you were. The evening had been lovely—warm and full of laughter. Yet here you were, crying under the stars.

A hollow ache settled in your chest as you continued walking, the faint echo of your footsteps the only sound in the stillness. You barely knew Azriel. That thought circled your mind like an unrelenting shadow. For all the moments you’d spent stealing glances at him, observing the way he carried himself with quiet strength and grace, there was still so much you didn’t know. So much you might never know.

And then there was the bond. The invisible thread you could feel humming at the edge of your awareness, a constant reminder of something greater, something unasked for. You’d kept it to yourself, not because of secrecy, but because the mere thought of saying it aloud made your stomach twist with apprehension. It wasn’t fair—not to him, not to you.

Forcing a bond on him, on anyone, was the last thing you wanted. Azriel deserved the freedom to choose, the freedom to love without the weight of a bond dictating his path. But even as you told yourself that, a cruel voice in your mind whispered that the bond wasn’t something he would celebrate—not with you as his mate.

What did you have to offer him? Compared to Elain’s gentle beauty and kindness, you felt like a storm—chaotic and unyielding. You’d spent centuries honing your skills, fighting battles, making sacrifices. Vulnerability wasn’t something you knew how to share.

A sharp breath escaped you, your hands curling into fists as your pace quickened. The tears came faster now, silent but persistent, blurring the cobblestones underfoot. It wasn’t sadness, you told yourself again. It was confusion, frustration, maybe even fear.

You weren’t sure when the walls you’d built around yourself had started to crack, but tonight, surrounded by the warmth of the Inner Circle, you’d felt something shift. It wasn’t just about Azriel. It was about family, connection, belonging—things you’d never let yourself hope for, let alone believe you could have.

But as much as you’d enjoyed the night, as much as you’d appreciated their kindness, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in. They cared for each other deeply, their bonds unbreakable. And you? You were just passing through, a healer with a tangled past and an uncertain future.

The stars blurred as fresh tears welled up, and you stopped in your tracks, tilting your head back to let the cool night air soothe your burning cheeks. You didn’t know what you were crying for—what you were mourning. Maybe it was for the family you’d lost long ago, or the life you might have had if things had been different. Maybe it was for the bond you hadn’t asked for but couldn’t ignore.

Or maybe, it was for the fragile hope buried deep within you—the hope that one day, you might find a place where you truly belonged.

——

Azriel’s POV

Azriel exhaled a quiet breath as he stepped into the crisp night air, the faint sounds of the dinner fading behind him. The garden of the townhouse was peaceful, blanketed in a soft glow from the moon above. Elain walked beside him, her delicate frame tucked into a thick coat, her hands gripping the fabric tightly against the chill.

The silence stretched between them, comfortable at first. But as they wandered further down the winding paths, Elain drew closer, her arm brushing his. He glanced at her briefly, noticing the faint pink on her cheeks—not from the cold, but something else.

It was when they reached the edge of the garden, where the view of Velaris spread wide and glittering below, that she finally spoke.

"Azriel," she said softly, her voice hesitant.

He turned to face her, noting the awkward expression on her face, the way her hands twisted nervously in front of her. “What is it?” he asked, his tone calm, though a flicker of concern stirred in his chest.

Elain hesitated, her gaze darting away before meeting his again. “Are you sure...we can trust Y/N?”

Azriel blinked, her question catching him off guard. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, this hadn’t been one of them. “Why wouldn’t we?” he asked, frowning slightly.

Elain’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s just...the way she talks, the way she carries herself. There’s something...off about her.”

Azriel tilted his head, studying her closely. He hadn’t missed Y/N’s sharp tongue during the meeting at the House of Wind, but her words had been purposeful, her actions deliberate. If Elain was referring to that, it didn’t make sense for her to hold it against Y/N.

“She was doing her job,” Azriel said carefully, keeping his tone neutral. “If this is about what happened at the House of Wind—”

“It’s not just that,” Elain interrupted, her voice rising slightly before softening again. She looked at him with wide, almost pleading eyes. “You don’t realize the way she spoke to me. The way she...looked at me. It was—” She broke off, shaking her head.

Azriel’s frown deepened. He couldn’t recall Y/N being anything but professional, but Elain’s tone suggested she felt otherwise. Still, he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions without evidence.

“Elain,” he said gently, “what exactly are you saying? Is there something specific that’s made you doubt her?”

She hesitated again, her gaze dropping to the ground. Then, after a moment, she said, “I just...feel like she’s hiding something. A lot of things. And it’s not just her past—it’s her power, Azriel. It’s unsettling. What if she’s here for something else? What if she’s working for Koschei?To attack us from the inside?”

Her voice grew more frantic as she spoke, her words tumbling over one another in a rush of worry.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression calm. He reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Elain,” he said firmly, his voice a quiet anchor. “You’re overthinking this.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, uncertainty flickering there.

“She’s not here to harm anyone,” Azriel continued. “If she were, we would’ve seen signs by now. And even if there were any truth to your fears, I’m keeping a close eye on her.”

Elain’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt as he added, “Nothing bad will happen while I’m around. I won’t allow it.”

For a moment, Elain simply looked at him, her expression softening at his words. She nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t completely ease.

“I trust you, Azriel,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel gave her a faint nod, his gaze steady. But as they turned to head back toward the townhouse, a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind—not about Y/N, but about the seeds of mistrust Elain had tried to plant.

Elain bid Azriel a soft goodnight, her steps retreating up the stairs until they faded entirely. Azriel lingered in the quiet of the garden for a moment longer, the chill of the night seeping into his skin as he let his mind turn over her words. Doubt, no matter how unwarranted, was a dangerous thing to sow.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he made his way back to the living room. Feyre, Mor, and Nesta were nowhere to be seen, their laughter and conversations long gone. Only Rhysand and Cassian remained, seated comfortably with drinks in hand.

“There he is,” Cassian said with a smirk, raising his glass. “Thought you’d vanished into the shadows for good this time.”

Azriel ignored the jab, heading straight for the sideboard. He poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the firelight, and crossed the room to join them. He lowered himself into one of the armchairs, cradling the glass in his hand before taking a long sip.

“You missed the part where we solved all the world’s problems,” Cassian quipped, but there was a lightness to his tone.

Azriel shot him a look but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he turned to Rhysand, his expression thoughtful. “Did you know about Y/N being half Illyrian and half High Fae?”

Rhysand raised a brow, leaning back in his seat. “Madja mentioned it to me when I first spoke with her about Y/N, but beyond that, no. Y/N hasn’t shared much about her personal life—at least not with me.”

Azriel frowned slightly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “She’s been...secretive.”

“That’s not surprising,” Rhysand said, his voice calm. “She’s lived a long life, Azriel. People who’ve endured as much as she likely has aren’t quick to share their scars.”

Cassian shrugged, setting his empty glass on the table with a faint clink. “It’s not uncommon, though, is it? Half Illyrians without wings? The camps might not like to talk about it, but it happens more often than they’d admit.”

Azriel’s shadows curled faintly around his shoulders, his gaze distant. “It’s not just that. She’s...different. There’s a weight to her that’s hard to ignore.”

Rhysand regarded him carefully, his violet eyes sharp. “What are you trying to say, Az?”

Azriel hesitated, the words forming slowly. “She doesn’t seem like someone who’s just here to replace Madja or take up the work of healing. There’s more to her, something she’s not saying.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully. “She’s a healer, yes, but she’s also a warrior. And from what I’ve gathered, she’s someone who’s fiercely loyal to those she chooses to protect. That doesn’t mean she owes us every detail of her life.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It’s not like we’ve shared all our dirty laundry with her either. Hell, Az, you’ve been watching her like a hawk since she got here, and she hasn’t so much as flinched. If she were hiding something dangerous, don’t you think she’d have slipped up by now?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows whispering quietly in his ears. He took another sip of whiskey, letting the burn settle in his throat.

“I’m not saying she’s a threat,” he said finally. “But there’s something...unsettling about not knowing where she stands. Especially now, with everything happening in Prythian.”

Rhysand sighed, his expression softening. “You’re not wrong to be cautious, Az. But until she gives us a reason to doubt her, we owe her the benefit of the doubt. She’s earned that much through her work alone.”

“Relax, brother,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “Not everyone is out to stab us in the back. Besides, if she wanted to, she’s had plenty of chances.”

The conversation lulled, the crackling of the fire filling the silence. Azriel leaned back in his chair, the whiskey warming him from the inside out. Despite Cassian’s teasing and Rhysand’s reassurances, the unease in his chest didn’t fully fade.

He’d keep watching. Just in case.

Rhysand shifted in his seat, his sharp gaze settling on Azriel. His expression was calm, but there was a note of seriousness in his voice as he spoke. “Maybe it’s time for you to look elsewhere, brother. To seek someone who could truly bring you peace.”

Azriel sighed heavily, the sound filled with equal parts exhaustion and frustration. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, staring into it as if the whiskey held answers he couldn’t find.

Cassian, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked. “You know, Az, Rhys might actually have a point for once. The world won’t end if you let yourself—”

Azriel’s sharp glare cut him off, but it was Rhysand who pressed on, his tone gentle but firm. “Listen, brother, I’m not here to tell you how to live your life or whom to care for. But Lucien is coming back to Velaris for the Solstice, and I don’t want you to—”

Azriel’s head snapped up, and his voice was cold and clipped as he interrupted. “You didn’t have to invite him.”

Rhysand’s brows rose slightly, but his voice remained steady. “He is her mate, Azriel. Whether we like it or not, that bond exists. Ignoring it won’t make it disappear.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows curling more protectively around him. “I’m well aware of that, Rhys. But you didn’t need to bring him here. Solstice is for family.”

Cassian leaned forward slightly, holding up a hand as if to diffuse the tension. “Alright, let’s all take a deep breath. It’s been a long day, and we don’t need to—”

“I don’t need your advice,” Azriel snapped, cutting him off as well. His voice was calm but laced with a quiet, simmering anger. He stood, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “I’m grown enough to make my own decisions, and I don’t need either of you meddling in my personal life.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes followed Azriel carefully, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. But he didn’t press further, simply nodding once.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath, “Well, that went well.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his shadows coiling around him as he turned and left the room. He felt their eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t look back.

As he stepped into the cool night air, the weight of their words still lingered. His chest felt tight, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger, guilt, and something he couldn’t quite name. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Or maybe he did, and that was the problem.

----

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hellodarling1357 · 1 year ago

Text

Tiny Toes: Part 3.5 - Cassian x Reader

Surprise! 🥳

Here’s a mini bonus chapter that happens soon after where part 3 ended. It’s leading into a particular storyline that has been requested quite a lot 👀

So this started out as a little fluff piece but got a little angsty towards the end...

Word Count: 1.5k

“PJs on?”

“Yep.”

“Teeth cleaned?”

“Yep.”

“Really?” Cassian quirked an eyebrow at his daughter, holding back a laugh as Ottie rolled her eyes and widely opened her mouth to prove him wrong.

“Good girl.”

“Daddy, can I sleep in your bed with you tonight?”

Usually, Cassian would have encouraged her to stay in her own room, not wanting to have her fall into the habit of not being able to settle in her own bed. But after today, the thought of holding his baby girl while she slept had him agreeing.

He watched with a soft smile as she excitedly ran into his room, her favourite, slightly-worn teddy bear in hand as she waited for him to lift her up onto the bed.

“Alrighty, all comfortable?” Cassian asked, tucking her in tightly then swooping down to smother her face in kisses, letting his hair fall forward to tickle her face. Her giggles resounded through him, heart throbbing as he looked down at his little girl in awe, wondering how something so strained had resulted in something so perfect. Despite how messy the situation with Nesta had turned out, he wouldn’t change it for the world; not when it led to what he now had.

Ottie reached her hands up, pulling his face down to hers and planting a sloppy kiss to his cheek that only a toddler could get away with.

“I love you, daddy.” She whispered as he pushed her dark hair away from her face.

“I love you too, sweet girl. Want me to read to you?” Her face lit up in excitement and she nodded enthusiastically while shuffling further into the mattress. “Alright, I’ll be back in a minute, yeah? You think about what story you want tonight.”

Focusing on getting himself ready for bed, Cassian let his mind wander to you and how incredible the day he had been so nervous for had turned out. After he had told Ottie about the two of you, you had all spent the rest of the afternoon in the sun, walking along the Sidra with Ottie bounding ahead, turning back every now and then to check that he was still holding your hand, and would then proceed to growl at him if he wasn’t. After an early dinner, Cassian and Ottie had dropped you off at your apartment, you and Cassian had decided earlier that you would give Ottie some time to process everything before pushing anything else on her.

Ottie, not having seen your place before, excitedly ran around, looking into every single room and cupboard. Cassian had called her back, telling her it was rude to be nosy, but you just shushed him and used the few minutes alone to pull him into a gentle kiss.

“Thank you for today,” he murmured against your lips.

“Thank you for trusting me with her, for wanting me to be in her life.” Cassian couldn’t find the words to express what he felt in that moment so instead pulled you in for another kiss that he hoped conveyed even just a fraction of what he felt for you.

Judging be the look you were giving him when you eventually pulled away, it had said enough; and if his heart wasn’t already yours, it would be after the way you smiled at him before pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

When Nesta left, Cassian had never even considered that he would find someone else. While they hadn’t been the perfect match, they had still been mates and if that hadn’t worked out, well, what hope did he have to be able to make it work with anyone else?

Besides, he had Ottie now. She had become his entire universe, and he was content enough in the fact that he had contributed in the making of this tiny, wonderful person that he wouldn’t need anything else again. And then he had met you, and he was forever thankful to Elain for introducing you into his life. You had shifted everything on its axis simply by being this bright light and ongoing presence for both Ottie and himself. He knew without a doubt that everything in his life, every bit of joy and fear, every mistake made, was all leading him to you, to this point in time.

*****

Three stories later, Ottie was finally beginning to doze off, tightly pressing herself even closer into his chest as her little hands clasped at his t-shirt. Cassian found himself nodding off as well, his fingers twirling through her hair, so similar to his own.

“Daddy? Are we going to be like Uncle Rhys, Auntie Feyre and Nyx now?” Her sudden question tore him away from his sleep-muddled thoughts.

“What do you mean, princess?” He asks, soothing a hand over her hair.

“Well, Uncle Rhys is Nyx’s daddy, like you’re mine. And Auntie Feyre is Nyx’s mummy,” she stayed silent for a moment, Cassian held his breath while she sorted through the thoughts flying around her head.

“So,” she continued, now looking up at Cassian with a sparkle in her eyes. “So, does that mean Y/N is my mummy?”

Cassian felt his heart pang at the clear excitement written across his daughter’s face; he was in no way prepared for this. Hell, the two of you hadn’t even broached the subject of how to navigate this situation, you had only been together for a couple of months.

“Uh,” he hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say. “Well, sweetheart, Y/N loves you very, very much but, no, she’s not your mummy, love.” Again, he felt his heart clench at the devastation of her face.

“Oh, okay,”

Resting her head on his chest again, silence enveloped them. Cassian was beginning to think she had fallen asleep when she whispered in a tearful voice, “Daddy, why don’t I have a mummy?” And Gods Cassian was fighting back his own tears at the hurt in her voice.

“Ottie, come here, sweetheart” then he was sitting up, pulling Ottie into his lap and cradling her against him as he wiped away her tears.

“We’ve never really talked about this, have we?” He asked, needing a little more time to gather his thoughts as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He knew this day would come eventually but it was still the hardest conversation he had ever had.

“Your mother, Nesta, and I were together for a few years before we had you. And when I found out she was pregnant, that you were in her belly, it was the happiest day of my life,” he pressed a kiss to her cheek as he gauged her reaction before continuing. “That is, of course, until you came into the world, and I finally got to meet you. You were the sweetest, tiniest thing I had ever seen, and I knew I loved you instantly,” Cassian smiled softly as Ottie shyly grinned and hid her face in his neck.

“But your mother realised that she wasn’t ready to be a mummy. And even though she loved you very much she had to leave so that she could deal with some things that had happened to her,” Ottie stayed silent against him, he could sense her processing his words. “Do you want to ask me any questions about her?”

Ottie stayed silent for a few more minutes, Cassian giving her time to wrap her head around everything as he soothingly rubbed a hand up and down her back whilst rocking her back and forth and pressing kisses to the top of her head.

“Will she come back?”

“I don’t know, princess,” A few more moments passed as Ottie sat in his arm.

“Do you love her?” Cassian couldn’t find it in himself to say a single bad word against Nesta. Despite her leaving him, leaving Ottie, without so much as a goodbye, he didn’t want to taint the image of her in his daughter’s mind.

“I love that she brought you to me.” That seemed to be enough of an answer as Ottie nodded her head in response and cuddled closer into him.

“You can ask me anything you want, okay? But how about we get some sleep?” Ottie stayed silent but nodded again, allowing him to shuffle back down the mattress, arms still wrapped around her as he soothed a hand over her hair.

Again, Cassian thought Ottie had fallen asleep when she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, “are you going to leave me too?”

The fear in her face had tears welling in his eyes as he adamantly said, “No, princess. Please don’t ever think that I’ll leave you. I’m not going anywhere. Even when you’re all grown up and don’t want me around anymore, you’re stuck with me. Okay, sweet girl?”

Ottie nodded with a small smile as the words sunk in, she reached up a hand and wiped away Cassian’s own tears with her chubby fingers as she sniffed back her own. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, Ottie. So, so much.”

Ottie finally drifted to sleep, one hand clenched around Cassian’s t-shirt, the other holding onto her teddy bear. Cassian, however, was so far from sleep now. Instead, he opted for watching his daughter sleep soundly against him, wondering, yet again, how he had gotten so lucky.

*****

Part 4

Tag List: @mis-lil-red @sarawritestories @beardburnsupersoldiers @eve175 @blushingfawnsposts @turtleshavesoulmates @slytherinindisguise @sleepylunarwolf

#cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian imagine #rhysand acotar #azriel acotar #feyre acotar #marley writes

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arcanarix · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day 2 - Body Worship - Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader

Cw: body worship, fingering, taking photos without consent, non con, bondage (chains)

He can’t believe he has you right where he wants you—beneath him, but not in the way he would have initially thought upon meeting you.

Yes, at first, Geto believes that all non-sorcerers are better off eradicated, ejected from existence in favor of a new world where he and those like him don’t have to exist as the strongest or the protectors. But you have come close to changing his perspective, but only by a fraction. Perhaps not all non sorcerers are lost causes and he’s discovered that lack of cursed energy doesn’t necessarily mean all of humanity is hopeless. Some can see curses. Some are aware of the true heinous nature of humanity and strive to find some balance, like he once did.

You are one of those who strive for balance, for progress in society.

You are one of those who reminded him it’s wise not to generalize.

That doesn’t mean he’s not still utterly repulsed by what humanity is, the true essence of humanity…

But you do give him hope that he’s not had once before.

Even if he finds many of your beliefs a bit naïve. Foolish. He can’t help but admire you all the same.

His violet gaze rakes over your cowering, naked form, chained to the headboard of his bed—their bed, he insists. Your beady eyes peer up at him, glimmering with fear, with your lips parted, your breathing uneven and ragged. Your ankles, too, are secured by chains but by either side of your head, giving him perfect access to your quivering cunt, glistening brilliantly like glitter from your arousal in spite of claiming you do not wish for his attention. He coos at you as you bite back a sob, slender fingers brushing along your tear-stained cheek before pushing a finger into your mouth, gliding the pad along your wet muscle before revoking it.

The same hand moves to smack your wetness, eliciting a little yelp out of you.

“Su…guru…?” you whisper, your tone a little weak from the torment he’s subjected you to from dawn.

“You are wonderful like this,” he purrs as he pulls his phone from his pocket. The camera clicks as he snaps a few photos of you at your most vulnerable. “So ready for me.”

He slides next to you, presenting his phone with the embarrassing pictures of you he’s taken from the moment this all began.

“You see? You’re a work of art,” he groans, chewing on his bottom lip before leaning in to peck your lips. “Open your mouth.”

You reluctantly comply as his tongue invades your mouth, practically fucking itself into it and gliding along your tongue before pulling back, a line of spit connecting your tongues before he broke that connection.

“You are a perfect fit, my sweet.” As he says this, his hand snakes down to dip between your folds, and he moans low at how much slick has already built up there. “Fit to rule alongside me when I create a new world.”

You whimper, not daring to rip your gaze from him lest you desire punishment, unable to close your legs shut even if you wanted to, the chains keeping you in place.

“You need not bear my children, because that may lead to unnecessary outliers…and you don’t need the added stress,” he hums, sighing through his nose. “Perhaps we can discuss the possibilities of concubines to secure more sorcerer children, but nobody will ever compare to you, my sweet.”

He brings his arousal soaked finger to his mouth, groaning at the taste of you in your most intimate region.

“Let’s take as many photos to commemorate this momentous occasion, hm? The two purest forms of humanity, ruling side by side,” he sighs in an indulgent way as he poses next to you, ushering you to glance at the camera. What stares back at you is a reflection of you at your most humiliated while your captor is milking in every minute of this. “Show me a winning smile, my sweet.”

Yours is strained as he snaps another photo.

#geto x you #geto x reader #yandere geto #suguru geto x you #geto smut #erixtales #thotbubbles

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sanccharine · 4 months ago

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15:14 | ny

pjo au

pairing: daughter of poseidon!nayeon x child of medea!reader

genre: angst

word count: 0.5k

warnings: none :]

a/n: actually no idea what this is but enjoy ? definitely filled with errors <3 also i say medea, though it could be any magic/sorcery based god/goddess – in my head more circe and hecate and pasiphae type

You stand by the pier, watching dark waters move into the sand, pulling as it smoothens the land, before then receding back into its original form.

Perhaps, you shouldn’t have come.

Nayeon watches you with a frown. Her lustrous dark hair, stray strands whipping past her face with the salty wind even when she’s tucked it behind both ears. She usually hates it when it isn’t in place as she prefers, though for some reason, she does not bother to tie her hair back.

“You’re certain?” She asks, her voice small, barely audible in the night.

You look away from the waves that flatten the sand and up into her determined gaze. Her eyes were a well of emotions; frustration, hope…desperation. When she looks at you like that, you wonder how you ever find it in yourself to say no to her. But then, you also loathe it, how she weaponizes your weakness for her. Moments like this make you wonder why you even let her convince you, talk to you.

Though, you suppose that's what the sea is like. An unpredictable force, a nasty current that pulls and drags you under if you are not careful. That was Nayeon.

“Please,” she steps towards you at the same time you take a step back. A dance the pair of you have perfected. “Please.”

Nayeon’s frown deepens. When her pleading goes unanswered, her feelings of desperation give way to the simmering frustration just beneath the surface. Anyone can tell, Nayeon wears her expressions with no masks. You can tell just from the way she pursed her lips, her jaw locking in place as her eyes darken, growing stormy, just by a fraction.

Besides, look at the water; almost glowing under the light of the full moon, the tides increasing in speed just enough the sea foam begins to froth as it crashes into stray rocks, eroding them into sand before your very eyes.

Nayeon asks again with her hand extending out to fill the chasm between you.

“Please come with me,” she pleads like no child of Poseidon should. “Please.”

When you only stare at her hand, Nayeon tries one last time.

“I can’t do this without you.”

The sounds of waves crashing against the shore, against the pier, fills your mind.

The smell of salt stings your senses, making you teary-eyed…yes, the salt.

The biting cold of the droplets that fall at your bare feet reminds you where you stand…in front of whom you stand.

“I can’t do this with you.”

You don’t give her a chance to speak. To yell. To convince.

To drag you in like the current she is.

With a snap of your fingers, the mist hides Nayeon completely from your vision. And in turn, you from her. Powerful enough, it could be an illusion…powerful enough, a child of Poseidon wouldn’t be able to take a step forward to find you.

You don’t take pride in tricking her—protecting her—whatever you think it is you’re doing. But it is something you must do.

When the ocean comes to a near still, the waves half the force they’d just been…you knew this would be the last you’d see of Nayeon.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i might like writing guys, that's crazyyyyyy anygays hope you have a good day/night :]

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @eternallyghosting

#mala’s collection #sanccharine #nayeon x reader #twice x reader #twice angst #nayeon angst #twice #twice imagines #nayeon imagines #twice timestamps #15:14

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perpetualfox · 2 years ago

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Hi! I saw you write dub con but since there are a lot of layers, I would like to know what you consider dubcon and if you would write some headcanons for the 141 + Alejandro with a dubcon experience

Dub-Con Extravaganza - 141 + Alejandro x GN Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Dub-Con, Rough Handling, Possessive Behavior, Oral, Overstimulation, Exhibitionism, Burning, Authority Kink, First Time, Breath Play, Choking, Edging

Wordcount: 2440

Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy it!

For anyone who is curious, here's a quick link to my updated request guidelines for an updated on consent related content on this blog.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

→ “If you don’t stop squirmin’ about, I’m gonna have’ta hold you down, baby.”

→ You whine incoherently as he mumbles against your inner thigh. The low rumble of his voice thrums through you, rich and comforting despite the threat. Your flesh burns, scraped nearly raw by the rough caress of his stubble, and your fingers ache, cramping from clutching so tightly in his short, curling hair.

→ He’s been at it for what felt like hours, bringing you to the edge and over it again and again with little more than his clever tongue. Your thighs ran slick with saliva and your own arousal, the bedsheets beneath you damp with it. Every pass of his tongue was agony upon your frayed and sparking nerves—even the gentle puffs of his breathing were overwhelming.

→ If you had had the wherewithal to speak, you might have begged him to stop, to let you rest, to come down from one high before it could bleed into the next. But, God, he was good to you. And you longed to be good for him in return—to be worthy of the attention he so lovingly laid upon you, to deserve every flicker of that tongue. And he had asked for so little, only that you lay still and take it; to be good. Dimly, with what little of your mind is still capable of higher thinking, you wonder if you can.

→ You try, honestly you do, but it’s just too much. As he licks another stripe slow and wide against your sensitive flesh, your whole body tenses, hips jerking away from the brilliant heat of his mouth. Unwilling to let you escape, Gaz follows the movement, slick tongue pressing in harder, flickering relentlessly against you. Your eyes roll back, jaw going slack, his name both a prayer and a curse as it tumbles from your lips.

→ A moment later, he’s gone—withdrawing from you completely. You sob, body collapsing, limp and useless beneath him. You aren’t sure which was worse: the brutal pleasure of his mouth on you, or the pitiful throbbing that descends in his absence.

→ He makes a disappointed sound high in the back of his throat, “I warned you.”

→ In a flash, he’s moving, shifting his weight, and pinning your hips against the mattress with strong, gun-roughened hands. Then his tongue is on you again, laving against your most sensitive spots, and though you try to squirm, to kick your legs, to buck him off, he doesn’t budge, his fingers only tightening on your hips. He pulls back a fraction and glances up at you, with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

→ “Oh no, baby. You’re not going anywhere,” he rasps, “Not until I’m finished with you.”

John 'Soap' MacTavish

→ The lighter snaps open. A small flame hisses to life, illuminating the sharp edge of Soap’s jaw for just a moment before the end of his cigarette catches, and he snaps it shut again.

→ “Put that thing out, Soap. You know I hate the smell of ‘em.”

→ He leans against the brick wall of the alley, bracing his hip against the stone, and takes a long drag. He holds the smoke deep in his lungs for a moment, revelling in the rush of nicotine in his system, before blowing it back out into the night. The cloud of it hangs around him for a moment—a wispy halo caught in the sour glow of a streetlamp.

→ “Nah, don’ think I will.”

→ “I’m not in the mood to argue, Soap. Put it out.”

→ “I’m no’ arguin’, and I’m no’ puttin’ it out. ‘S a free alley. I’ve lit up, an’ now I intent to have my smoke.”

→ “I’ll give you three seconds.”

→ He barked out a laugh that made your blood boil, “Or what—you’ll do it for me? I don’ think so.”

→ You round on him, closing the distance in three quick steps, but he was ready. He catches your arm as you reach for him and twists it backward. You cry out as he spins you about, bending the arm behind your back and pinning it there. Your shoes slip against the slick pavement, but Soap held you firmly upright.

→ You struggle against him, spitting curses and trying to break his hold, but he’s stronger by an order of magnitude. He huffs out a laugh, leaning down to nuzzle against your shoulder. You can smell the smoke on his breath and feel the heat from his cigarette, still lit in his other hand. He holds it aloft, casually caught between two fingers, closer to your cheek than you’d like. The stink of it makes your head swim.

→ His voice is low and raspy as he drags his lips across the bare skin of your neck, “Such a pretty thing…”

→ He brings the cigarette back to his lips, sliding his hand down to pop the button of your jeans. You bite your lip as he slips his hand beneath the rough denim, his fingers leaving burning against your skin, scarred knuckles brushing against your most sensitive spots. You whine long and low into the night, leaning back against him as your knees go weak.

→ “Such a fuckin’ slut you are, hey? Lettin’ me do this oot here where anyone could see…” The warmth of his body cuts through the damp chill of the evening, the heat of him burning through his jacket and your own. You squirm in his grip, but he holds you fast, chuckling deep in his throat.

→ He rolls his head to the side and takes another drag from the cigarette. “Bet tha’ thought gets you excited.” His fingers press against you a little harder, “So it does,” You can all but hear the grin in his voice. “I can feel it.”

→ He rolls his hips against your ass, and as he shifts, you can feel the hard press of his cock through his jeans, “Guess, it gets me excited too.”

→ He swings your body around, pressing your cheek hard against the slimy wall of the alley. ‘If I’m to fuck you proper, I’ll have to be rid of this,” He plucks the cigarette from him mouth, keeping you pinned against the wall with his hips.

→ His fingers claw at the neckline of your shirt, “Soap? What are you doing?”

→ “You told me to put it out, so I’m putting it out.”

→ That’s all the warning you receive before the burning end of his cigarette is pressed against the meat of your shoulder blade.

→ You cry out, the pain lighting up your nerves, but Soap just laughs, grinding himself harder against your ass, crowding you against the wall of the alley, “Yeah, that’s it, Hen. Fuckin’ scream for me.”

John Price

→ “Off!”

→ The command rings through the room, and you jerk your head back as though you’d been stung, the captain’s slick cock slipping from between your lips. Saliva drips down your chin, soaking your shirt and collecting in a puddle between your thighs. Your chest heaves as you struggle to get enough air into your starving lungs and tears slide unchecked down your cheeks.

→ “I taught you better than that, didn’t I?” Upon receiving no better answer than you laboured breaths and pathetic sniffling, he surges forward, seizing a fistful of your hair and tugging hard enough to sting. “Didn’t I?”

→ “Y-Yes…” Your voice is little more than a ragged whisper; a scratchy testament to the abuse your throat has suffered. Unsatisfied with your answer, he pulls hard on your hair, dragging you forward. Your spine arches back in a desperate bid to ease the tension on your scalp.

→ “What was that?”

→ “Yes…S-Sir!”

→ He releases you, and you flop forward, your face mere inches from his cock, still slick and shining with your drool. His thick fingers find their way to your face, his thumb smearing through the mess around your mouth. His calloused fingertips glide across the slick flesh of your lips, tracing the puffy, cock-bruised flesh, leaving a stinging trail in their wake.

→ “What’s this for?” He asks.

→ “S-Sucking your cock, Sir?”

→ “Is it a question?”

→ “No, Sir.”

→ “Then say so. What is it for?”

→ “S-Sucking your cock, Sir.”

→ His fingers slide down your slick chin and seize about your throat. He doesn’t squeeze—not yet—just applies light pressure: a promise, and a threat, “And this?”

→ “I-I don’t…”

→ “I’m beginning to lose patience with you,” His voice is low, dangerous. “What. Is. It. For?”

→ “For…you to fuck, Sir.”

→ “Mmm, And when do you get to breathe?”

→ “When you say so, Sir.”

→ “That’s right. So,” He takes a deep drag of his cigar and leans forward in his seat to blow it into your face. The need to cough rattles about in your chest as the acris smoke stings your already teary eyes. Price smacks you hard on the back of the skull, his palm open, “Get that fucking gag reflex under control, or I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

→ “Oh fuck, Ghost!”

→ When the blunt head of his cock first nudged up against your entrance, you weren’t convinced it was going to fit. He was just so fucking big—bigger than anything you’d had the courage to take before. And as he presses forward, his strong arms caging you against the mattress, you are absolutely sure it won’t—not all of it anyway. Not all at once.

→ The stretch is intense. Your thighs jump and twitch where they lay, hitched high about his hips. Your hands cling tightly to his shoulders, nails sunk deep into his pale flesh, leaving little crescent shaped indentations. The deeper he pushes into you, the further you feel your control slipping—your breath comes fast and hard and your legs begin to shake in earnest.

→ All at once, he brushes up against something inside of you and you cry out. Your muscles lock up and you clench down around him so tightly that he gasps—a short, sharp sound that echoes in your ears. The steady push of his hips falters, and he grinds to an uneasy halt, “C’mon, Lovie, that’s only half of it. You can take more than that.”

→ But you couldn’t. He was going to break you—to split you in half. You were so full of him you could hardly find the room in your lungs for air. Still, he rocked his hips into you in short, shallow thrusts. He wanted to keep going—to keep pushing until he made room one way or another. Each shift of his hips, no matter how small, punched a heavy, gasping breath from your lungs.

→ God was that really only half?

→ “C-Can’t.”

→ “Yes, you can.”

→ You could feel yourself slipping away, your mind going fuzzy with the rocking of his hips, the burn as he stretched you out. The muscles in your stomach tighten with the promise of an impending orgasm, your vision going blurry with overstimulated tears.

→ “T-Too much,” You whine, “So fucking big…I can’t—”

→ Suddenly, his hands are at your throat. His fingers wrap around your neck, and he squeezes hard. The fight drains out of you so quickly you feel dizzy, the heat of his palms sapping the strength from your body.

→ “Tell me to stop then.” His dark eyes bore into yours from beneath his balaclava, his light eyelashes nearly white in the gloom. “Tell me to fucking stop, Lovie. Go on.”

→ His fingers tighten around your throat, as though he were trying to wring the words from you. You can feel those thick digits locking together at the back of your neck, his blunt nails digging into your soft skin. You couldn’t have spoken around the clench of those fingers if your life had depended on it. All that escapes from your lips is a thin whine, high and desperate.

→ “Got nothin’ to say?” Ghost laughs, a low, dangerous sound that rumbles in his chest and makes you shudder beneath him, “Then fucking take it,” And he slams his hips home, sheathing himself to the root in one smooth stroke.

Alejandro Vargas

→ Strong hands soothe the ache along the ridge of your spine, calloused fingers rubbing gentle circles into your flesh. His thumbs stroke over your ribs and down your sides, pressing against the bones of your hips just enough that you really feel it—a heavy pressure just shy of painful. His hands slide further down, grasping a handful of the meat of your thighs, rubbing feeling back into the spots where they press against the wooden lip of the desk.

→ Your chest lays flush against its varnished surface, the wood growing warm and slick beneath your heated flesh. Papers and files lay scattered across the floor, swept from the desk in the desperate frenzy to bend you over it. It’ll be a hell of a job for Alejandro to make sense of them tomorrow, scattered and jumbled as they are, but that isn’t your problem.

→ It was a quiet night, the Vaqueros still on base occupied with the last of their daily tasks or already tucked into their bunks in preparation for an early morning. There was no one around to hear you now, hidden away in Alejandro’s office as you were, but you whine and sob into your palms anyhow, muffling yourself out of habit more than necessity.

→ “Come now, Mi Corazón, there’s no need for tears.”

→ But there is. His cock is buried inside of you, splitting you open with his girth, but he isn’t moving—hasn’t moved an inch since seating himself within you nearly an hour ago. He kept you pinned, his hips pressed tight against your ass, holding you immobile with little more than the weight of his body.

→ “You can just take what you need,” He crooned, “C’mon, take it from me.”

→ You struggle desperately, trying to throw your weight against him, to move him an inch in any direction, but it’s no use. You just aren’t strong enough. A fresh wave of frustrated tears pricks at your eyes and burns your cheeks. You can do nothing but clench around him and sob into your fingers.

→ He coos softly—a gentle sound, so full of love and understanding. He presses a gentle kiss into your hair, “Awww, that’s okay, Mi Vida. I understand,” His lips brush against the back of your neck, soft and warm “It’s a lot to take in all at once, no?”

→ He shifts his hips ever so slightly, slowly grinding himself into you. You seize beneath him, pulsing around his cock. It’s the first stimulation with which he’d graced you since he’d opened you on his fingers, “We can wait here just like this until you’re ready.”

#141 x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut

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izvmimi · 1 year ago

Text

cw: babytrapping. yandere. manipulation. cult behavior. suguru.

Suguru told you once, twice, perhaps more times, that he never wanted a child, no matter how longingly you glanced at small children, or how much your arms reached to him when he spilled inside you, hoping he would hold you close and leave behind just enough of him for you to carry forever.

What he planned for the world was too great, and an attachment to this earth would distract him. And you understood him, even if the undercurrent of these statements implied that his love for you wouldn’t be enough, that you are not a real liability and are just as disposable as any one of his other entanglements.

You’ve always known that Suguru doesn’t just belong to you, and truly no one. Jealous glances were often swapped between you and other members of the cult, especially forward when you knew Suguru had been sweet on them recently. Yet you were always his favorite, his prized one. The spot beside him belongs to you, the favorite kitten, pet idly as he followed more… noble pursuits. Little mattered of occasionally sharp claws or sparse mewls for attention. He’d fuck you good, and that was enough to keep you satiated.

The human part of Suguru still makes mistakes.

You look shakily down at a pregnancy test, wishing for some miracle, some sign that it’s defective, that you haven’t failed your leader in such a cruel way. The two lines look mercilessly back at you as your stomach churns, even worse than it did this am prior to your first sickness of the day. Suguru stands before you, arms crossed over his chest, not bothering to give you even the privacy of confirming your newfound state in privacy.

“I can explain-” is the first thing that comes to mind. As if you are somehow to blame for getting pregnant. The fraction of a percent chance past birth control pills and condoms, and pulling out. You wonder if he’ll force you to put in an intrauterine device this time, or pursue even more permanent options.

He raises his hand, and you look at him, eyes wet with not yet spilled tears.

“Do not worry.”

Your heart quickens its pace. Mercy.

Getou kneels before you, your closed legs, and kisses your left knee, warming you from your toes to your nose. Intimate and possessive, he takes the test from your other hand and drops it in the trash.

“You may keep it,” he offers.

You swallow.

“A-are you sure?” you whimper. His other hand rubs your other leg, while he continues to kiss your knee. Watching him from this rare vantage point, you can feel an immeasurable joy in the pit of your stomach, devotion welling up inside you. The tears make it past the brim of your eyelids.

“You never let anyone else-”

Getou smiles and looks up at you as tears fall from your face, splattering on your bare bent legs, on shaky hands. He’s had nearly a half-dozen children to be, you’ve not wanted to embarrass him the way these other women did, and yet here he was! Extending you something you could lord over others, something that would be just yours and his.

Another heartbeat that belongs to the two of you only. He is yours, yours, yours.

“None of them are as devoted as you are to me, now are they?”

You nod, joy so much it is caught in your throat.

No one, under the sun and moon, will ever love him like you do.

#getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #daydreams: jjk #mimi's notes #cw babytrapping #cw yandere

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manchestereyes · 3 months ago

Text

i wanna be with you everywhere

summary: A month after meeting for the first time, Phil discovers Dan's neck thing.

rating: T

word count: 1366

tags: fluff, 2009 fic, yearning (if you squint)

Read on ao3

“Good god, Phil, I thought your mum was never going to let me go, back there,” Dan sighs as he flops onto Phil's bed. And oh… the way he leans his head so casually against his arm should be illegal.

“I know!” Phil hops up next to him, curling himself into Dan's space with a wicked smile. It's a shock she couldn't tell how antsy her youngest son was. “As if she hadn't interrogated me enough about you when I said you were coming over.” He nudges one of Dan's legs with his socked foot, boxers straining against his skinny jeans. Inwardly, he forces his brain and body to calm down.

It’s been a month since they first met in person and every day, Phil is sure his feelings for Dan can’t grow any stronger. Their endless hug the last time Dan went home left him desperate to hop on the train with him and never let him go. Who gives a flying fuck about responsibilities when his favorite person in the world is hundreds of kilometers away? And some of those texts Dan’s been sending these past few weeks that signal his desire runs just as deep as Phil’s? Well, Phil’s heart may as well have flown to Wokingham with the way it’s been acting lately.

Looking back at Dan now, Phil finds his eyes have grown dark, the circles underneath becoming even more pronounced. Underneath the pain, though, a smile breaks through softer than Phil's yet seen from Dan. It's a sight so wonderful that Phil decides then and there that he'll do anything to bring that smile back.

“You know, you're so lucky to have a mum who genuinely cares about you. It’s just… I hope you know that, Phil.” Dan reaches out to trace along his collarbone, and it’s all Phil can do not to melt into a puddle right there.

Of course he knows some of the struggles Dan’s had at home, only drawn out of him in the wee hours of their Skype calls, when the real world disappears for as long as they can stay awake. But to hear it from him in person is another thing entirely. It slams into Phil much like the train Dan just hopped off, to the point where he’s shocked his heart hasn’t spilled across the bed.

Still, even if it had, he’s sure Dan would cradle it in his gentle way.

“Oh, Dan,” Phil pouts, shivering a bit and inching closer as Dan’s finger grazes his Adam’s apple. “You know I hate that that’s your reality. I bet you if I told her, my mom would adopt you before you could ever escape from here.”

“Phil…” Dan’s giggle is as sweet as honey, his eyes twinkling like freshly fallen snow. His finger trails off and lands back on the bed, leaving Phil hungering after it. “You know that would make us…”

“Oh nooooo!” Phil covers his face and buries it in Dan’s chest, but he’s not actually embarrassed. He knew what he was saying. He just needed to see Dan’s face light up in the way that can power his darkest nights. They giggle together for a bit before Phil blinks a few times and tilts his head up…

…only to find Dan’s face mere centimeters away, a longing in his eyes to match Phil’s own. His breaths coming heavier and faster now, Phil braces Dan’s head between his hands and kisses him with everything he has.

It’s a kiss to make up for the thousands of minutes, hundreds of hours, and far too many days they’ve gone without seeing each other. It’s a kiss to show Dan how wanted, how needed he is. It’s a kiss Phil hopes can communicate even a fraction of the staggering feelings he has for Dan.

And god, the way Dan kisses back is enough to send Phil writhing against him, to the point where just Dan’s lips aren’t enough for him. So he trails his lips over to Dan’s cheek, savoring every drop of him, his desire only growing as he kisses his way down Dan’s jaw and onto his neck. And then…

Oh. The gasp Dan lets out is so earth shattering Phil almost doesn’t notice the hardness pressing into his leg. It fills him with a confidence he’s only recently discovered around Dan– and a tightening in his own pants. Maybe that’s what causes him to pull away long enough to find Dan looking well fucked, despite the fact that they’re both fully clothed.

With a giddy smirk, Phil breathes, “Is that good?” The husky tone to his voice isn’t new to him or Dan. Still, the way Dan bites his lip at that shouldn’t be allowed. Fuck.

“Is that… fuck, what do you think, Phil?” A flush has risen now into Dan’s entire face and it delights Phil to no end. It also sets off a lightbulb deep in the Dan-sized pocket of his brain.

“Wait a second. Wait..” Phil’s giggling so much he can barely get the words out. “Is that… is that why you slapped my hand away when I brushed your neck that first day? Do you have,” Phil’s voice drops to a whisper, “a sensitive neck, Dan?”

“I mean… maybe?”

“Maybe?” Phil yelps back, then slaps his hands over his mouth. Shit, he almost forgot his parents are still here! What if they hear him and have to find out the hard way that their youngest boy isn’t ever going to grow into the man they hoped he would be? What if–

Oh fuck. They’re definitely going to hear the scream laugh that Dan lets out then.

“Dan! My parents are right downstairs!” Phil hisses. And yet, there’s a part of him that’s so happy Dan is finally here and back in his bed and all over him that he can’t help laughing too. Dan only laughs harder at that until both he and Phil are gasping for air, tears rushing down their cheeks, and Phil is sure he’s never felt happier. It’s fizzing up in him to the point where he has to smack his hands against Dan to let his amusement out somehow.

“You have a sensitive neck! Dan Howell, I never would have expected!” The realization sends another shock of joy through him. After nearly six months of knowing him and one month of closing the distance between them, this may be his favorite thing he’s found out about Dan.

Well, that and the way he scrunches his face up at Phil’s words. “It’s not that sensitive! Just…” He shakes his head in a way that tells Phil he knows he’s lost, but he doesn’t care. Not here. Not when he’s with Phil.

“You have a sensitive neeeck! You have a sensitive neeeck!” Phil singsongs, though he’s not sure why. There’s just some part of him that needs to tease Dan about this. It’s as cute as his obsessions with Muse and Final Fantasy… and maybe with Phil himself?

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Dan mutters. But the way he presses his lips again to Phil’s tells him he doesn’t mind at all. In fact, Phil’s quite sure he loves it.

So Phil continues to trace his lips all down Dan’s neck and collarbone, delighting in his new discovery with every gasp that escapes Dan’s lips. And then it hits him.

There’s no way being with Dan can be wrong when it feels this good. Phil’s alright! No, he’s better than alright– he’s free. Freer than he ever felt with any of his failed uni hookups, or even the brief will they-won’t they relationships he’s found himself in.

The realization stitches up a dark corner of his heart. Phil only hopes that with time, he and Dan can work to stitch up the (as far as Phil can tell) much larger corner of Dan’s heart.

Though he’s pretty sure the flashes of pure joy he’s seen today have already begun to work their wonders. He just hopes these feelings can continue to grow for a long time to come.

But by the way things are going, Phil is quite sure he has no reason to worry.

#phan #dan and phil #phanfic #phanfiction #fluff #2009 phan #yearning #claire writes

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bluesylveon2 · 1 year ago

Text

Rumors

Summary: Leona is used to people talking about him. Yuu must believe the rumors, right?

Word Count: 1.3k

Note: sequel to “Love at First Fight,” royal au, fluff, light angst, cameos for a future fic

Warning: fem Yuu reader, not beta read, and possible ooc characters

Masterlist: here, Series Masterlist: here

"I wonder why the King agreed to this?"

"Did you hear? Prince Leona once murdered someone with his magic?"

"I hear the Princess has been avoiding Leona lately. She must believe the rumors too…"

"If only he was like his brother."

Whispers.

All Leona heard were whispers no matter where he was.

Leona had heard it all of his life, and he grew used to it. He knew there was no way he could be king. Leona did not blame the Princess for not wanting to interact with him. She must have seen herself as his key to becoming a king. Yuu's interactions with him were kept to a minimum if they were obligated to be in the same room.

Leona made his way to the garden, the same garden where he met Yuu, ready to rest under a tree with a pillow and some snacks on the side. He honestly had a small hope that Yuu, the woman he arranged to marry, would see him differently and not what he was known for. He remembered when they first met and how she caught him off guard. He never expected her to have similar strength as the women back home.

Leona respected that. Too bad the feeling was not mutual. That was when he made his decision.

If Yuu chose not to get close to him, he would honor that, even if it hurt him. He would not force her to initiate things with him when it was his brother's and her father's choice to be stuck with him.

Despite that, Leona at least tried to be with Yuu indirectly. Sometimes, he noticed how stressed she looked, so he convinced the King that he would handle her duties for her to give her a day off. Other times, a gift would "magically" appear in the air when Yuu felt down that day, making Yuu smile again.

If Yuu smiled, then Leona would be content with it.

He can spend the rest of his time giving up on the hope he had and break the engagement later on. Yuu deserved to be with someone she loved. His unrequited crush did not matter.

It was better to break the plant by the bud.

Leona navigated his way through the quiet garden with Yuu in his mind. He was not worthy to stand beside her. Yuu would be a good queen, and he saw so much potential in her. Her kindness, strength, and wisdom would make her kingdom flourish. Leona sighed as his eyes landed on his favorite tree.

He must be hallucinating because he could swear Yuu was currently napping in his spot.

She looked peaceful, like she would not be a queen one day. Her face was relaxed, and her breathing was rhythmic. She lay on a blanket, and a medium-sized basket was nearby. Yuu stirred as if she sensed Leona nearby.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you." Yuu said while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Leona leaned against the tree. "How did you know I would be here?" he raised a brow.

Yuu gave Leona a look that explained it all. Leona's eyes widened a fraction, and he knew. Oh, he figured it out.

Yuu giggled at his reaction, her eyes filled with glee. "You should be lying on a blanket and not the grass. Plus, you deserve to eat something after going out of your way to ensure I'm well."

Leona smirked. "Well, aren't you a smart herbivore?"

"Thanks. A future queen has to be. That reminds me." Yuu shifted to grab the basket and placed it in front of her. "I know our first few interactions were rough, and I apologize. This is my peace offering to you." Yuu opened it, and Leona's eyes widened.

"No way…" His eyes landed on a beautiful steak that made his mouth water.

"It is. This steak is very rare. The cattle it comes from can only be found in a village hidden in the Shaftlands. Only a few people can get their hands on it. Luckily, I knew someone with enough connections to get me one."

Leona could smell the steam coming out of it. And the juiciness from where he stood. The meat itself looked medium rare, just the way Leona liked it. "Did you wait long for me?"

Yuu shook her head and looked at Leona with earnest eyes. "Not really, but the weather is so nice today that I could not help closing my eyes." she laughed, warming Leona's heart as he watched her smile.

"Well, I don't want your gift to go to waste." Leona sat down beside Yuu as she unpacked the basket. Yuu placed two plates, utensils, snacks, and drinks out for Leona. Leona said as he picked up the meat. After opening it, he grabbed a fork and a knife to cut it into small pieces. He picked up one piece and held it up to Yuu. "Eat."

Yuu blushed, but her heart raced at the gesture. "This is for you. You should have the first bite."

Leona's mouth curled up slightly. "And when was the last time you ate?"

Yuu rolled her eyes. "You got me." She leaned forward and ate her share. Leona watched her face melt as he began to eat, too. "This is really good," Yuu said as she grabbed another bite, but Leona beat her to it by holding it out again.

"Let me feed you, herbivore."

Yuu blushed and accepted the food right away. "Just this once because I'm feeling generous."

Leona smiled victoriously as he and Yuu continued their meal. The two made some small talk but spent most of their time enjoying the cool breeze blowing around them.

It felt nice, and they both felt like ordinary people. Not royals who will be married soon.

"The meat was good, but I am tired." Yuu yawned as Leona packed up their things back in the basket. She lay down on the ground and closed her eyes.

"You can sleep here then. I can do some things for you back in the castle." Leona began to stand up until something grabbed his arm and pulled him down. His back landed on the blanket, and Yuu wrapped her arms around him.

"Sleep with me. My father would not mind us missing for a day." Yuu mumbled and laid her head on Leona's chest.

Leona blushed as Yuu succumbed to her drowsiness. With strength like that to pull the prince of Sunset Savanna down, Yuu must have come from there in her past life. There was no way he could leave with Yuu's grip on him. Leona sighed and closed his eyes, succumbing to feeling loved by the woman who refused to let him go.

Meanwhile

"Ah, young love! Merveilleux! Magnifique!" A blonde-haired, green-eyed hunter swooned while watching the sleeping couple from his spot on the tree.

A lavender-haired boy sighed at the tree's base. "Can we leave now? I want to eat our share of the steak."

"Hush, Epel. You can get some after your lessons." Another blonde said, scolding the boy. He briefly frowned as he watched his friend sleep beside the infamous prince and ignore the other boy's muttering. He needed to address that in his next lesson.

"I don't understand what Yuu sees in him. She used to dislike him, and now she is bugging me to get a steak for her. She deserves more than that potato."

The hunter jumped and gracefully landed next to the man. "It is her love for him, Roi du Poison. It grew with time."

"Maybe…"

The hunter chuckled knowingly. "You'll understand when you find a femme one day."

The man scoffed. "That won't happen to me. Not with these women throwing themselves at me for a title." He turned to Epel. "Come, Epel, let's go back to the carriage." The man walked away with Epel following behind.

Meanwhile, the hunter watched his friend and smiled at the sleeping couple before leaving, "You never know, Roi du Poison. Love can come to you unexpectedly."

©: These stories belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x reader #leona x yuu #twst x reader #leona kingscholar

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kenananamin · 1 year ago

Text

Beside Each Other

Chapter 2: The Pizza and the Tooth Fairy

[masterlist]

Summary: The replacement finally comes in and Nanami keeps his promise to help you replace the sink trap. Yunn meets Nanami for the first time and sticks to him through pizza and the tooth fairy.

fluff, nanami kento x fem!reader

~4.2k words

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

As Nanami had said, the office sent the replacement rather quickly. You were calling Nanami by the following Tuesday afternoon to ask if he had time that week to help you replace the sink trap. Nanami did not recognize the number and he'd be lying if he said he didn't hope any unknown number would be you calling. He was quick to tell you that he was available that afternoon and asked if it was okay to go up at around 5:30pm after he logged out for work. You happily confirm, happy to finally stop the leaking sink, and continue working while you wait for Yunnuen to get out of school.

Once you’re walking away from the pick-up line with Yunn and after waving goodbye to Jessie, you tell Yunn that your neighbor will be coming up to help with something that afternoon. Yunn finds the pebble on the sidewalk more interesting than the conversation and gives a quick okay while kicking the pebble away.

At exactly 5:30pm, Nanami shows up to your apartment in a light… and tight t-shirt. You kept your apartment a bit cooler than you usually would and hoped it would be alright for Nanami, not wanting to repeat that day where the poor man was helping you in an oven-like apartment.

“Hi,” you greet him as you step aside to let him in. He’s carrying his own toolbox this time and exchanges the usual kind pleasantries with you. Yunn watches from afar but you call her over once Nanami has fully stepped inside.

You rub your daughter’s shoulders and have her stand right beside you to greet Nanami, “Nanami, this is my daughter Yunnuen. Yunn, he’s Nanami, our neighbor who’s gonna help me fix the sink, can you say hi?”

Yunn giggles and asks the towering man, “Nanimi, your name is Nanimi?”

He laughs and sticks his right hand out, “Hi Yunnuen, I’m Nanami. I live downstairs.”

Yunn takes his hand and he chuckles at the tiny hand only covering a fraction of his. You correct your daughter that it’s Nanami, not Nanimi, but he waves off the mistake and tells you it’s alright. It’s kind of cute, Nanami thinks.

You walk Nanami to the kitchen while Yunn goes back to the couch and the scattered toys on its surface. You tried to get the things ready for Nanami by placing the new sink trap, your toolbox and a cloth to wipe anything that might come out next to the opened cupboard.

Nanami crouches down and places his toolbox next to yours. Even though he had everything he would need in his own, he looks through yours to at least use some of the things you prepared for him. You ask if there’s anything you can do to help and he answers no with a smile, but you slide down to the floor next to the open cupboard to keep him company anyways.

“So…” you pick at the skin next to your fingernail, “how was work?”

Nanami looks back at you and chuckles at your attempt to start a conversation while he replaces your sink trap. If it was anyone else in any other situation, he might have ended it with a quick and simple ‘fine’, but he knew you were trying to be nice and keep him company in exchange for helping you... and he kind of liked it. “It was good, busy but good. My team is managing a few projects so it keeps us busy and it makes the day go by fast.”

You nod beside him, “That’s cool, what kind of projects does your team manage? Or are they top secret?”

Nanami laughs but continues to tell you about the projects and company as a whole. The conversation gets easier with each sentence said and Nanami sees you smiling through the gap between the cupboard door and the counter edge. You have a pretty smile, Nanami wonders if you knew that…

Your phone starts ringing and you hear Yunn yell out that Ms. Jessie was calling. You excuse yourself to answer your call and Nanami nods and grabs the new sink trap. He’s almost done replacing it and he wishes it could take just a little longer to ask you a bit more about yourself.

Just as you get up to answer your phone, Nanami feels another presence beside him. There's light steps shuffling closer to him and a small plop on the floor. He shifts back to get out from under the sink and sees a small girl sitting criss-cross right next to him. She smiles at Nanami and waves. Nanami looks around the kitchen for you and does not see you, but hears you somewhere in the living room talking on the phone. He waves back at Yunn and shifts back under the sink to continue replacing the sink trap.

Nanami hears more slight shuffling and looks back to see Yunnuen peeking her head in to see inside the cupboard, the top of her head poking Nanami’s side. He laughs at the sight of the curious child but continues his job. He finishes rather quickly and reaches for the cloth you had readied for him to clean the bottom of the cupboard from the splattered things from inside the sink trap. Yunn pokes her head a bit further in and asks, “Are you going to fix the light too?”

You hear Yunn’s question from the living room and call for your daughter, “Yunn.”

“What light?” Nanami fully gets out from under the sink to look at the little girl still sitting criss-cross right next to him, only much closer than before.

“The light in the bathroom. It won’t turn on and momma can’t reach.”

“Yunnuen,” you call for your daughter again, a stern hint to stop.

Nanami looks up at you as you lightly pull Yunn back and quietly remind her to go pick up her toys in the living room. He stands and asks, “Which light is it?”

You start to shake your head and wave your hands in front of you, “No, no it’s ok! I just need to take a chair in there and do it. You’ve done a lot today, Nanami, thank you so much!”

Nanami wipes his hands on the small towel he brought in his toolbox, “I don’t mind, I'm already here.” He smiles at you, “Where’s the bulb? Which light is it?”

You pick at your fingernails and look into his eyes to check if he’s sure. He puts his hands on his hips and looks at you with complete certainty, waiting for you to lead the way to the bathroom. You finally nod with a tight-lipped smile and walk towards the hallway closet to get the new bulb. Nanami follows closely behind to get the bulb and goes into the restroom. You lean down to get a stool for Nanami to reach up easier and Nanami laughs at the light blue stool decorated with flowers and tiaras.

You stand back up and point to the stool, “Yunnuen can’t reach the sink too well so she has a stool.”

Nanami nods with a smile and thanks you before slowly stepping on the stool to make sure it wouldn’t collapse under his weight. You both hear toys clanking from the living room and you excuse yourself, “I’m gonna go check Yunn actually picked up her toys.”

Nanami hears your steps drift further from the restroom and into the living room when Yunn walks into the restroom and looks up at Nanami. She’s watching him replace the bulb and patiently waits for the man to finish.

As soon as Nanami puts his arms down from replacing the bulb and the new light flashes bright, the small girl reaches up to give Nanami what she’s holding, “Here, for you!”

Nanami looks down and sees a small lilac teacup and the tiniest plate he’s ever seen under a small plastic slice of pizza. He can’t help but lightly laugh at the little girl on her tiptoes reaching to give him her meal.

“Yunnuen?” Nanami hears you looking for her and lets you know she’s in the bathroom with him.

Nanami crouches down to sit on the stool to be at eye-level with the young girl, “It’s my meal?”

She nods and hands him the pizza and teacup, “It’s a thank you for my sink and light.”

You reach the bathroom when Yunn is handing Nanami the pizza and Nanami holds the plastic toys in his palms, unsure of what to do next. He looks up at your figure at the doorway and you bring your hands up to your mouth and pretend to eat. Nanami follows suit and brings the pizza closer to his mouth, “Om nom nom nom.” He pretends to drink from the teacup and even turns it around to show Yunnuen he finished the drink.

Yunn laughs and she takes the cup to pretend to fill it again. You laugh at the scene in front of you — your daughter giving your neighbor fake food as thanks and your big neighbor trying to make himself small on the stool and pretending to eat your daughter’s plastic pizza.

Nanami looks up at the giggling little girl wanting to fill him up with her fake drinks and her mother leaning on the doorway and laughing. What peaceful sounds, Nanami thinks as he drinks his third cup of whatever Yunn is serving him now.

———

Because of the different schedules, Nanami didn’t see you and Yunn often, and when he did it was only for a few minutes at a time. He knew you left at around three o’clock for pick up and came back 20ish minutes later with a giggling little girl. He’d go pick up his mail/packages around the time you’d come back to walk back up with you both. He liked hearing the young girl’s stories from kindergarten and he liked seeing your shoulders relax a bit more every time you saw each other. Nanami wanted to find more excuses to talk to you but he was happy with the small conversations he got in the meantime. You’d always be in a rush to go somewhere or do something and Nanami hoped to catch you on a day when you could talk for a little longer.

Nanami is filling out one of his daily forms when he hears a series of small knocks. He pauses to listen, unsure if the knock was on his door or above his apartment. He hears your voice faintly calling Yunnuen and the young girl calling out for him from the hallway.

Nanami smiles and gets up from his desk to open his front door.

———

You’re holding Yunn’s hand as she jumps up the stairs and rambles about her class and classmates. This was the routine every day and listening to her really was one of your favorite parts of the day. You’re about to turn for the next flight of stairs when you look towards Nanami’s door. You couldn’t help but wonder about the man every time you passed by the second floor. Even without passing by the second floor, you’d catch yourself thinking about him as you washed dishes, folded clothes, walked to the pick-up line… he found a way to sneak into your thoughts often.

Just as you’re stepping on the first step, Yunn releases your hand and runs to Nanami’s door.

“Yunnuen!” You try to reach for her but she runs before you can catch her.

“Nanimi! Are you home?” She knocks as hard as her little fist lets her. You reach her right outside Nanami’s door and tell her he’s busy and can’t answer. You’re about to take her towards the staircase again when the door opens to a grinning man.

Nanami looks at the girls on his doorstep, you look embarrassed that he actually opened and Yunn is standing next to you with a wide smile, now with a gap.

You start to apologize as soon as he looks back at you, “I’m sorry, I know you’re working, I tried to grab her but she just booked it and—”

Yunn interrupts and opens her hand for Nanami to show him what’s in her palm, “Nanimi, I wanted to show you my toof.” She’s holding a small white tooth on one hand and uses the other to pull her lower lip down to show Nanami where the tooth used to be.

Nanami laughs and gets on one knee to look at Yunn’s tooth. “Oh my! That’s the biggest tooth I’ve ever seen!” the little girl laughs, “Did you cry?”

She lets go of her lip before answering, “I cried because Jacob’s head hit my here,” she points to the space between her chin and mouth, “and I got scared but my teacher hug me and I was ok!”

You’re standing behind Yunn, not sure whether to pull her away now and apologize again or let her finish her story.

“My mami told me we can have pizza for dinner because I was so brave today!” Yunn jumped more as she spoke, “Nanimi do you want pizza today?”

Nanami can’t help but laugh at anything the little girl does and says and you start to reach for your daughter, “Yunn, he might be busy baby, you can’t—”

Nanami interjects, “I would love to join you guys for pizza tonight. If you don’t mind of course,” Nanami is still kneeling in front of you and Yunn but is looking at you. You try to push the image of him on one knee in front of you faaaar back in your brain. Not a time to be delusional, not a time to be delusional…

You wanted to talk to him a bit more and maybe there was a part of you that hoped something would break in your apartment to give you a reason to call him. A couple things were faulty but they weren’t big enough to call him and ask for his help. Maybe Yunn was giving you the perfect chance…

“Our favorite pizza place has really good breadsticks so we always get that. Is delivery okay? Do you prefer a certain pizza?”

Nanami smiles and widens his eyes at the little girl showing him her tooth again. He stands and nods, “I’ll have anything you’re having. I’m not picky,” he ruffles Yunn’s hair and she holds her head while giggling, “At what time should I be over?”

Yunnuen starts to jump more while yelling ‘Yay yay yay yay!’ and you try to quiet her down while talking, “Well we usually have dinner some time between 6:30ish and 7 since this one,” you point down to the jumping child, “needs to be in bed by 8:30, 9 at the latest.”

Nanami laughs and tells you he’d be over a little after 6:30 to celebrate Yunn’s big milestone. You nod and excuse yourself to take your excited child upstairs and Nanami sees you drag Yunn up the stairs and keeps hearing her little jumps from downstairs. Nanami goes back to his office and sits on his chair while releasing a heavy sigh. Would it be too much if I changed? She already saw what I was wearing… Nanami looks down at his clothes, simple dark slacks and a grey pullover.

He hasn’t smiled so much since moving into that damned building, he was glad to finally have someone his age he could talk to and be close with. Well… start getting close with. Do I want to be close to her — to them? She’s a single mom, she’s in a different stage of life than I am… Can I be close to them? Nanami is pulled out of his thoughts when his work phone rings.

He sits up straight and answers the phone, “Schneider Electric, this is Nanami.”

Nanami checks the time on the corner of his desktop. It’s 3:34pm, three more hours to go.

———

Nanami gets to your door as the food is being delivered. He thanks the young deliveryman as he leaves and stops you before entering your apartment, “Wait wait,” he whispers and peeks inside to check Yunn is not listening, “Question, does Yunnuen believe in the tooth fairy?”

You laugh at the tall man asking about the tooth fairy, "I had mentioned it before and that was part of why she was so excited about her tooth falling out. I think she told Jessie about it too. How come?”

Nanami smiles, “Just checking.” He raises his voice to a normal volume before continuing, “Here, let me help you,” he grabs the boxes from your arms but waits for you to welcome him into your home before coming in.

You welcome him in and call for Yunn, “Yunn! Can you come out now please? And get what's on the counter.”

Yunn comes running from her room in a Rapunzel costume and pigtails, “Ok mommy!”

Yunn grabs the few napkins and plates you had previously put on the counter and starts a hybrid of a walk and skip to the living room center table. She waves to Nanami then waves for him to follow her. Nanami starts to follow the young girl before you can even protest and redirect them to the small dining table in the opposite direction. You give up on the battle you'd most likely lose against your five year old and follow them to sit next to Yunn on the carpet, across from Nanami.

“Hey Yunn, guess who came to visit me today?”

Two sets of ears perk up, you wonder who visited Nanami and how that visitor ties in to you and your daughter enough to bring them up. Yunn patiently sits with a smile, her shoulders barely peeking over the table when she sits directly on the floor.

“She said she’s been waiting to meet you,” Nanami takes something out from his back pocket, “but the tooth fairy said she saw you being very brave and wanted me to give you something.”

Nanami sits on his knees to give Yunn a ten dollar bill. Yunn excitedly stands and goes over to Nanami’s side to get the bill, ignoring you and not looking back at all. Your brain catches up with what he’s doing and you sit up straighter to try to stop Nanami.

“The tooth fairy said she’d come back later, but you have to be asleep first, ok?”

Yunn carefully grabs the bill, “Nanimi, is the toof fairy pretty?”

Nanami looks over at your shocked expression as you sit across from them with an arm stretched out.

“She’s a really pretty fairy,” he smiles at you before looking back at Yunn whose smile is still growing.

There’s a flush creeping onto your cheeks… technically— very technically speaking, you were the fairy. He looked at you when he said it… was that him saying you were…?

“Nanimi, can I buy a happy meal with this?”

Yunn is looking at Nanami with glowing eyes and Nanami hangs his head to laugh.

“I think so, you might even have a little left over after a happy meal,” Nanami pokes Yunn’s tummy and smiles.

"Yay!" Yunnuen jumps and her pigtails jump with her, "I'm gonna put this in my piggy!" She turns to run to her room but abruptly stops and turns back to Nanami, "Nanimi, do you want to see Pinky?"

Nanami turns to look at you, wondering what the hell a pinky even is. You run your fingers through your hair and lean on the table, looking between the giddy child and confused neighbor looking for an answer on your face. You nod and Nanami mirrors the action for Yunn. She wastes no time and runs to her room.

Nanami shifts from being on his knees to sitting criss-cross in his spot. He smiles and rubs his palms on his pants when you break the silence.

"Nanami, you — listen, you really don't- didn't have to do that," you sigh, "I haven't even paid you back for helping me fix our sink."

He smiles and points to the boxes between you, "This is it. This is how I want to be payed back."

Nanami notices your usual tight-lipped grin and continues, "I wanted to do that. I remember what it was like to be a kid and be excited about things like that. Please do not think you have to pay me back. I'm happy I get to do this and make a kid that happy."

You both hear Yunn throwing things around in her room and Nanami breaks into a wide smile and laugh. It's weird... he seemed so stoic when you first met him by the mailboxes, but now he's sitting in front of you, smiling about your girl making a mess in her room. Without realizing, you start smiling too. It's nice to smile so easily...

Yunn starts walking back to the living room and all Nanami sees is a pink dinosaur plush that's bigger than the little girl carrying it. He can only see her pigtails besides the dinosaurs neck and her small feet dragging her back towards the table. She sits the pink plush besides Nanami and goes behind him to put a tiara on his head.

You facepalm, "Oh god, Yunn—"

She rounds the table and puts another small tiara on your head before taking her seat beside you again. She nonchalantly starts opening the box of breadsticks and says, "Nanimi, this is my Pinky. I'm wearing my dress, I don't need my crown. Momma and Nanimi need a crown. Nanimi, was the toof fairy wearing a crown?"

Nanami is adjusting his crown while responding, "She was wearing a crown but had a jacket on to hide her crown and outfit, she said she didn't want to recognized."

Yunn is staring at Nanami in complete astonishment, nodding along as if it made sense for the tooth fairy to hide underneath her jacket.

You're putting a pizza and breadstick on Yunn's plate as you look at Nanami and laugh. You half-apologize for your daughters' actions but look back at your little girl knowing that you would never seriously apologize for a child's innocence. Everything she did was breathtakingly amazing to you and you really did not know how you got so lucky with a child like her.

You and Nanami start pilling up your plates while you listen to Yunn ramble about how she's sleeping fast tonight to get more money from the tooth fairy so she could buy happy meals for the group's next meal.

The simple fact that Nanami was included in Yunn's statement warms his heart and he can't deny looking forward to eating from the small red box with a yellow smile.

———

The week after the pizza dinner, Yunn fulfilled her promise on the happy meals. Or more like you did, you let Yunn's $10 stay in her pocket and all she had to do was invite Nanami to McDonalds. It felt weird to let your five year old knock on Nanami's door and invite him out again, but you were relieved when he happily (and swiftly) said yes and offered to drive the group there. Yunnuen left her handprint on the window as she was getting out and Nanami did not have the heart to wipe it off. Nor did he want to.

After leaving the golden arches, Nanami invited you both for a dessert and hot chocolate. Yunn asked if you could take the hot chocolate to the park a block away so she could show 'Nanimi' how fast she could run through the playground. Nanami asked the barista to have the drinks to go instead and for one drink to be slightly cooler. It was cold outside but Nanami promised to play on the playground with you both... he found out the slide was too damn small for a man his size and the swing painfully digs into his hips and thighs.

A few days after the park, you invited Nanami to a local sandwich shop for lunch after bumping into him on the staircase. Nanami walked to his front door since you could see it from the stairs but ran once inside his apartment to gather his coat, gloves and scarf. He was back by the staircase in record time. Yunn was at school during the sandwich outing and although he missed the giggling and the small hand occasionally reaching out to hold his finger, he did like the way you spoke slowly, uninterrupted and without a rush.

While listening to you speak and watching you take off the tomatoes on your sandwich, Nanami realized that he could do this every day. He could have lunch and dinner with the duo every day if he could.

Oh no… I've got it bad...

But even with that realization, Nanami did not flinch. Nanami’s heart beat a bit faster while sitting around the living room table with you and Yunn. His cheeks had never ached so much as they did after chasing Yunn around the park and playing freeze tag. He's never felt so enamored by the way someone removed tomato from their food while they continued their conversation.

He’s never felt like an outsider, like he didn’t belong, but strangely— he felt like this was the first time he could really belong somewhere, it was a good place to be, where he should be. Sitting across from a giggling little girl picking out her pepperoni to eat first during dinner and across a smiling woman retelling a story for lunch… he felt like he belonged. What a scary thought — it wouldn’t be easy to fit into your puzzle. But maybe I could?

"Kento."

You stop talking and look up at Nanami.

Nanami smiles and repeats himself as he slides a napkin closer to you, "Call me Kento, or Ken, whichever you prefer. My first name."

You look down at the removed tomatoes on your plate then back at the man holding his own sandwich, "Okay," you nod while trying to contain your smile to a small grin instead of the wide smile the butterflies in your stomach have been dying to release. "Well Kento, would you like my tomatoes?"

It's Nanami's turn to try to contain his smile. He bites his lower lip and tries to not think too deeply about how nice his name sounds coming from your mouth.

Nanami puts his sandwich down on his plate and leans to yours to pull the red pieces off your plate, "Thank you, y/n."

Your grin loses its battle against the wide smile, "You're very welcome, Kento."

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Chapter 3: Fahrenheit or Celsius

(a/n: i will link the next chapter when it is posted 😚)

(tags: @phoenix666stuff , @emzalot , @julia23sblog)

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my-writings-and-musings · 2 years ago

Note

What if the reader ACTUALLY ended up getting pregnant by soundwave? 👀 How would the cassettes react to the fact that they're going to have a baby sibling soon? Feel free to write this 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

Wwwwwwweeeeeeeeellllllllllllllllllllllll I might just have to give this a try anon, I definitely haven't been thinking about it since that last ask... (Or applying the same thought to other bots that you can totally ask me about at any time if any of you are so inclined)

I hope you all enjoy, and if you like my writing style you can always commission me!

All three of the minis still had their own unique expression of frozen shock when Frenzy finally went silent, leaving you to sit awkwardly across from them at the breakfast table. Soundwave knelt at your side, his demeanour tense but supportive as the quiet continued for several agonizing moments. It was Laserbeak that found his voice first, shaking his helm as if he was trying to process the information but simply couldn't. "How's that even possible?!"

"You're WHHHAAAAAATTTT?!"

Even without utilizing her sonic scream, Frenzy had the walls shaking for the entirety of her outburst, though such a reaction was more or less what you'd expected given the news you and Soundwave had just dropped.

"From the look of it, I'm due in seven months." you answered simply, unwilling to admit that was a guess at best. Based on your symptom you could reasonably estimate you were about two months in, but there was no way to know if this was going to proceed like a normal pregnancy, and it wasn't like you could swing by a doctor's office for answers. Soundwave settled his claws on your shoulder in a gesture of support.

"Known phenomenon. Scattered historical records." Soundwave answered for you, his explanation only somewhat shorter now than what he'd given you when everything had come to light. He'd also been able to translate and show you some of the texts describing the process, which included an explanation as to how Cybertronian gametes could "read" the genetic information of other species and interpret it to match their own anatomy, allowing for reproduction between vastly different beings. The little one within you now would be fully Cybertronian, but still related to you thanks to the wonders of alien biology. You wondered briefly what features of your own might be recognizable; your smile, the shape of your eyes, the proportions of your limbs...

"Well... When's the little one gonna get here?" Laserbeak continued as the others remained silent. Ravage was tense in his chair, optics narrow and audials pinned back in deep thought whilst Frenzy still found herself incapable of getting her jaw off the floor.

Giving the minis a date seemed to make the news that much more real, and the three exchanged looks, silently discussing their feelings on the matter with expressions alone. Too many emotions passed between them for you to identify even a fraction, but you caught a considerable amount of uncertainty from all three, which we to be expected. Frenzy finally spoke for the group, crossing her arms as if she was seated at a negotiating table as she tilted her helm for a pointed question. "Are we gonna have to share a room with them? It's already pretty crowded with the three of us."

"Search for more spacious dwelling; initiated." Soundwave replied quickly. The question was one the two of you had asked yourselves, and though searching presented its own dangers, you had concluded it would be far from ideal to have a growing family in this crowded bunker. In a mere month your mate had crossed hundreds of miles in his search, and the list of new potential homes grew each time he returned. Said information was relayed to the minis in a succinct summation of his activities. "Several possible locations located. Scouting to continue."

Hearing of a new home caught the interest of all three, an understandable reaction considering their limited space at present, and also seemed to turn some of their surprise to anticipation.

"Well, if we can get somewhere with a little more elbow room... I'm on board." Frenzy said as she returned to her more casual sitting posture, looking more open to the idea now that she had some time to process and could imagine the fun that might come if it. Seeing a smile pull on her lips gave you a great deal of comfort, and you felt your shoulder relax in Soundwave's grasp. The music loving femme tapped her chin as she pondered the possibilities. "Something beachside would be pretty tight."

Matching her energy, Laserbeak added his own two cents, equally excited at the prospect of moving from their cramped abode. "I could go for something up in the mountains, nice to have open air under the wings."

You prepared to reply with a list of the places Soundwave had scouted, but Frenzy scoffed at Laserbeak's suggestion before you could speak, returning to her old self with impressive speed. "Boring! How are we gonna have fun in the middle of the woods?"

"If the bitlet ends up flying, where else am I gonna show them the ropes?" he replied, holding up his wings like hands in his exasperation.

The comment took you pleasantly by surprise. Moments ago they'd been so shocked you couldn't really tell if they were at all on board with the new family member, but Laserbeak was already planning for including the little one, and Frenzy made it clear she was doing the same with her retort.

"How can I take them to rock concerts if there aren't any?" she asked in equal exasperation, making you smile at how she was also planning for their future sibling. You were confident now their initial reaction had been purely one of shock, and now that it had faded they were all proving more than amenable to the idea of a little brother or sister.

"They can fly there!" Laserbeak replied as the silly argument intensified, the two minis squabbling over the best places to live for the sake of their interests as well as their future sibling. Ravage remained removed from the entire discussion, but you found his posture far more relaxed, and when his gaze met your own for a second time he was far from displeased. The Felicon looked to you for a moment of consideration before giving a nod, his way of indicating that he too was fine with this most unexpected turn of events. You nodded back in appreciation. This little one may have been unplanned, but they would be anything but unloved.

"Arguments unhelpful." Soundwave sighed as the petty squabble grew lightly physical, juvenile slaps being traded by Frenzy and Laserbeak as they debated whose idea for a new location was "obviously" superior to the others. You chuckled lightly and gave his servo a pat, certain this chaos would hardly compare to what your little family would be dealing with in just a few short months.

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lilacxquartz · 9 months ago

Text

Don't Make Me Feel Alive | Chapter 2

kenjaku x f!reader

plot: diagnosed at an early age with an illness that slowly deteriorated your body; you went from being a promising sorcerer to a retired husk of your once former self until he found you, offering you an opportunity to live instead—not that you had a choice to refuse.

chapter summary: you’re not sure how, but he did a good job in keeping you up and running, albeit on limited energy.

a/n: extremely dubious sorcery up ahead, after feverishly researching cursed tools in jjk until like 3am, there doesn’t really seem to be any real limit, so we will pretend this all works. also his name isn’t revealed until the next chapter, so he’s just a he for now instead of kenjaku :)

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

2. Trial and Error

Reluctantly, you ended up accepting his help as long as he followed through with restoring you back to life, finding that to his credit, he proved somehow more capable than the hospital staff—his care actually keeping you in check and as a result, preventing the disease from completely claiming you.

His method of keeping you alive initially was through channelling energy into your body, pushing a small fraction into your core, forcing you to live.

However, while it proved effective, it was inefficient and unsustainable, even draining on him.

Luckily, he was quick to devise an alternative, just for you.

“This should do the job better,” he announced as he fastened a chain around your neck, a small item of some sort resembling an amulet weighing it down.

“And what is this…?” you asked, fiddling with the pendant as it rested slightly heavily against your chest.

“It’s a cursed tool containing a looping feedback of energy,” he explained, gently guiding your hand from the stone, not wanting for you to somehow damage it already, “you can draw energy from it and it will give you life, simply returning it to the pendant once you have spent it.”

“That… totally makes sense,” you replied, not following at all.

He rolled his eyes, wondering how to explain it exactly, putting on (somewhat) good behaviour while he still had you in his reach. For as long as you remained compliant, he would be neutral.

“Consider it a bit like breathing; it gives you energy that then returns to the stone that it then gives back to you.”

“And this will… this will cure me?” you asked with some hope.

“Not at all,” he replied rather bluntly, “but, it will prevent you from dying. Your disease, while incurable, won't be the cause of your death as long as you just keep this pendant close.”

“Oh,” you replied, knowing deep down that it was all too good to be true, after all.

“Also,” he spoke, still needing to hold your attention, “surprise, surprise—there’s a catch to it.”

“T-there is?”

“While it gives energy, it also takes away energy as it restores itself,” he explained as he held the pendant in his hand, “so there is a chance you will feel your condition in its raw form as it recharges.”

“Wouldn’t that kill me?” you warily asked.

“No,” he continued to explain, shaking his head, “the energy is constant, but it’s closer to being a battery, if anything. Just like when an electronic device powering down when the battery is low, doesn’t mean it’s nonfunctioning. So, I suggest sleeping during that time.”

“So, my condition will still continue to develop when this… ‘battery’ thing is recharging?” You asked, feeling a little defeated at the thought. While you liked the idea of staying alive, you didn’t like the pain during your down time.

“Correct,” he confirmed as his smile returned, “although there is a chance I might be able to prevent that in the future. Don’t get your hopes up though.”

A deep and heavy silence followed as you processed the words that he delivered, feeling equal parts relieved that you had an opportunity to prolong your existence so you didn’t have to meet a premature end—while also feeling defeated, knowing that the disease will continue to worsen as time passes you by.

All things considered however, you already were in the late stages of your illness as it already had done its damage, so technically speaking, whether it got worse or not, if it was somehow even manageable, then it wouldn’t have been for nothing.

All you had to do was help someone that you probably really shouldn’t. Besides, you felt normal right now, what if he’s able to fix that even further?

“Anyway, I want you to try walking,” he spoke up after a while, his hardened gaze relaxing as he longed for his experimentation to continue—feeling that this method was strangely humane for someone like him, he could have taken a more drastic turn with you, but he played the safer route for now.

The temptation to dissect you was still fresh in his mind though, wanting nothing more than to crack you open to prod and poke at your mind, maybe even finding some sort of anomaly that surgeons couldn’t but it was all too risky. From what he knew about your disease, it was a neurological flaw, so as to not damage your capabilities further, he refrained.

As a compromise, he settled on something simpler. A cursed tool was fine for the time being.

It would do for now, he thought.

Besides, it was actually sort of fun—as long as you were compliant. Had you not been so easy to work with, then he would have done more to make you give in. He almost felt disappointed that didn’t fight back more, wanting to mess with you until you gave in.

But, this wasn’t bad either.

He then observed you quietly as you fulfilled his request, slowly rising from the bed, making a mental note of each and every single movement you made. His eyes continued to glare over you, watching carefully as you gambled your own stability.

You gritted your teeth as you struggled to maintain composure, focusing all of your efforts into hopefully regaining control of your legs—being unfortunately familiar with the loss of sensation from time to time. Walking quickly became something you dreaded as the disease ate away at your core, exhausting you whenever you would try to fight it.

“You can manage a little step can’t you? I’m sure you’re not that weak,” he teased, offering you some encouragement to take a step forward, feeling slightly frustrated as you remained statued on the spot, too cautious to move.

Eventually though, you did finally take a step forward, finding that you could indeed walk, even if your legs did feel strangely heavy but you supposed that it had also been a while since you were last out of bed.

His gaze meanwhile locked on the pendant, observing that while you used up a significant amount of energy, that this might stabilise over time as you continued to train yourself to get back on track.

His end game was to harvest some sort of function from you come Halloween; the night that his long-awaited plans would finally take place. He had just under a year to build on those final details, having already found a set direction with how he wanted for this all to unfold.

This whole thing was just a what if—an experiment, a side project at best, so he had some time to spare, finding it almost fun in restoring a sorcerer, a challenge that he hadn’t yet attempted.

“Can you channel your technique at all?” he asked you, intending to try and test something out.

You nodded as you attempted to channel your own dormant cursed energy, feeling the life energy that you had otherwise lacked before. Your hands drew out wishing blue flames and upon forming the correct sign, electricity crackled at the edge of your fingertips—in turn, his dark eyes lit up with fascination as he continued to trial the limitations with you.

“So you aren’t useless. Now hit me with it,” he requested next, wanting to see if it would actually electrocute him or if it would feel like a tingle.

“Like… attack you?” you warily asked.

“I can take it,” he teased, a small arch forming on his lips.

He thought that it was actually kind of amusing that you were so hesitant to do so, especially considering the strange situation he had you tied up in. In his mind, you should want to grasp at the opportunity to attack him, not question the very idea.

You hesitantly nodded in response, doing your best to channel your cursed energy, locking it into a pointed sign, launching an attack that hit him with a crackle of electrifying energy—initially feeling pleasantly surprised that you were able to do so, but then feeling terribly wrong as something felt violently off.

Suddenly, your body was overcome with sweeping exhaustion; quickly draining you of the remaining energy that the pendant offered, leaving you feeling completely and utterly depleted. Your vision darkened next, pulling—pushing you somewhere unknown, not quite meeting with death but at least mingling with it.

Noticing this quickly, he took a step forward to catch you before you collided with the floor. He grunted as he allowed for you to fall forward with his body tanking the hit, your frame leaning against the front of his own for support—without realising he was doing it, he held you closer, finding that he actually quite enjoyed the warmth.

Perhaps it was the fault of the situation he had placed you under; spending the last couple of days tending to your needs, ensuring that your health wouldn’t continue to deteriorate. As a result, this pushed him unintentionally closer to you, taking on the role of a caretaker whether it suited him or not—and, as he held you close, he couldn’t deny that some sort of connection was beginning to form.

As you otherwise started to slowly stir back awake, he pondered the possibility of surrendering this responsibility to one of his subordinates instead, knowing that they likely had nothing better to do. Yet, the more thought he gave the idea, the more it didn’t sit quite right with him.

After all, they lacked the knowledge that he did, they wouldn’t know exactly what to look out for nor would they know how to lessen the pressure of your condition, should the pendant fail to do so.

It was simply better to do it himself.

This was his project to bear the burden of and he wasn’t about to let it fall into the hands of someone who would likely kill you out of negligence alone.

So no, he thought, settling on a firm decision deep within his mind, dismissing the idea completely. His subordinates would mess it up somehow, he was certain of it.

So as he guided you carefully back to bed, he gently laid you down and focused his attention on the pendant, wondering what exactly could be done to prevent another hiccup like this in the future.

Thinking that maybe he could change the function of the cursed tool, he plotted potential adjustments that could ensure a more steady flow of energy, thinking that it could in theory be an easy fix.

Noticing that you were now at least partially awake, he placed a firm hand down on your shoulder to keep you in place.

Studying the pendant with unwavering curiosity, he spoke up to you in a detached tone, waving you off with the flick of his wrist, “Rest for now. I’ll think of something.”

You listened as the exhaustion encouraged you to do so anyway, feeling the heavy weight of sleep anchor you down.

He watched intently as you surrendered to a deep rest as slowly but surely the tension you harboured washed away. With each and every single breath that you took, your bruised complexion slowly returned to looking healthier again—the pendant in turn glowed, pulsating a ripple of energy as it slowly restored your core.

He took note of the pulsating from the amulet, still not being satisfied with it. Ideally, he wanted for the glow to be constant but that was something else to work on at another time. For now, he focused on the output conducted by you before doing anything else.

His eyes continued to lock onto your sleeping body for what felt like an eternity, his own limbs growing gradually stiff the longer he stood there. He did so in order to monitor your condition and ensure that nothing else would go wrong, but at least for now it all seemed as stable as it could possibly be.

Slowly he kept creeping closer as you slept, intending to work on the pendant while you were out cold. Whether he intended for it to happen or not, your recovery room started to merge with his workspace, deciding that it was better to work on the battery as closely as possible rather than to risk a potential death from letting his guard down and as such, even if it took many hours on end, an adjustment was made.

Whether or not it was successful however, only tomorrow would tell.

And if the pendant was able to actually fuel life when it shouldn’t, then he would have made another breakthrough. He just had to refine it all a little first.

It was then that exhaustion caught up to him as well as he felt his host body reel in from such unrelenting overtime. He yawned as his eyelids fell heavy against his eyes and his movements became gradually sluggish.

Despite such overwhelming fatigue, he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave you alone by yourself, at least not yet, speculating that this early on that failure was right around the corner.

It had been a long time since he had included someone so personally intertwined in his plans and admittedly, he found your company surprisingly tolerable, if even enjoyable.

Not that he would ever admit such a thing to you.

If you ever asked him if he liked you, he would simply leave you alone for days on end just to mess with you.

(Just to make you miss him.)

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celestialbruise · 4 months ago

Note

Can you give Taxian-jun and Chu-Fei a happy ending in their timeline? ❤️🙏

let me just say I LOVE YOU for this!! this truly feels like fate, because the morning I received this beautiful prompt the first thing I thought of when I woke up was 0.5 ranwan and I spent the entirety of my morning routine thinking about a canon divergent fic where taxian-jun and chu fei get their happy ending then I logged onto Tumblr and found this ask in my inbox :’)

I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile and some day I would love to turn it into a fully-realized fic, but the basic premise is a month before Mo Ran lays siege to Taxue palace and Chu Wanning dies, he has a dream detailing the event, every last gory detail. it disturbs Mo Ran so much that he temporarily calls off the plan, and while he’s busy thinking of a way to destroy Xue Meng that won’t have Chu Wanning sacrificing himself, Chu Wanning manages to save him in the interim.

spoilers past erha volume six ahead!

to be completely honest I don’t know entirely how the flower works (I know about its existence but not much else) but in my head canon, aka for my own personal sanity, I do believe that there is a way for it to be removed, and in this AU Chu Wanning removes it, and though it would take time, and healing, in the 0.5 timeline, they would find their way back to each other, and they would never again part.

I hope I was able to do your prompt justice, as I truly had such a wonderful time writing this<3

In the lonely dark, deep into the night, Taxian-jun woke with a scream trapped in his throat, desperately grasping a body that was no longer in his arms.

He was alone in his bed. No longer was he laying siege to Taxue Palace, kneeling in the blood-spattered snow, holding a deathly cold, winter-pale Chu Wanning who had whispered….

Who had asked him with his dying breath-

“Mo Ran…forgive yourself.”

Mo Ran tore out of Wushan Palace like hell’s hounds were nipping at his heels, ignoring how the winter wind bitterly nipped at his cheeks, at the wetness staining his face, intensifying the chill and its painful bite.

He couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t be.

He couldn’t leave Taxian-jun. Chu Wanning couldn’t leave Mo Ran.

If Chu Wanning left-

If he was dead, then-

What would Mo Ran have left? Who would he even be?

What would be the point of living in a world devoid of Chu Wanning?

Mo Ran ripped open the doors of the Red Lotus Pavilion, his feet automatically carrying him to Chu Wanning’s room, where he found Chu Wanning, lying in his bed, wrapped tightly in blood-red sheets, curled into a tiny ball, just as he always was. The sight both eased and aggravated something that seethed deep within Taxian-jun’s chest. He wasn’t able to breathe. Not yet.

In his haste he stumbled, almost fell, hurrying over the Chu Wanning’s side and without preamble or finesse, yanked one of his arms free from the blankets to clutch desperately as his wrist, searching for a pulse. Mo Ran only needed a single heartbeat to discern that, while softened by slumber, life did indeed still live inside Chu Wanning’s body. And then another heartbeat later, phoenix eyes fluttered open, moonlight catching on long, dark lashes that lifted to reveal hazy amber eyes.

“What-” Chu Wanning started, voice slurring with sleep, eyes only beginning to sharpen with that familiar hate when, without hesitation, Mo Ran pulled Chu Wanning into his arms.

“Wanning!” Taxian-jun gasped, wet, against the side of Chu Wanning’s neck. “You’re here. You’re okay,” Taxian-jun said this as if he couldn’t quite believe it. As if he daren’t hope.

“Mo Ran!” Chu Wanning thrashed inside his arms, hitting his shoulders, but Mo Ran bore it. He wouldn’t risk loosening his grip even a fraction. If he did, if he was careless, if he allowed Chu Wanning to slip away from him, a ghost once more…..Mo Ran hugged him tighter, tight enough to break him. Tight enough to break them both. Soon, Chu Wanning’s struggle ceased. He stilled, stiff and awkward in the cage of Mo Ran’s embrace. When he spoke next, his voice was quieter, a question Mo Ran had no idea how to answer, unable to grasp what the question even truly was.

“Mo Ran?”

Mo Ran shuddered, pulling away, looking into Chu Wanning’s sharp phoenix eyes, eyes that glimmered with light, with life. Eyes that had gone openly, nakedly wide.

“You aren’t allowed to leave this Venerable One,” Taxian-jun hissed vehemently, his heart a painful beat inside of his chest as his hands cupped Chu Wanning’s face, forcing him to meet the fire raging in Taxian-jun’s eyes, the flames that threatened to swallow them both. “Do you understand? This Venerable One forbids it! I forbid you from - who do you think you are……”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning gripped his wrists, pulling Mo Ran’s hands away from his face. A face, Mo Ran realized with a start, that was shadowed, filled with too many lines to ignore. “Calm down. You’re shaking.”

Was he? Impossible. But as Mo Ran glanced down to where Chu Wanning’s pale hands tightly gripped his wrist, he noticed his fingers flexing, curling around nothing, wracked with unceasing tremors.

It was cold outside. He’d run straight out of his bedroom, dressed in only his inner robe….of course, he was shaking. He was furious - Taxian-jun was livid, filled with fiery anger that would not abate, that roiled through his veins like fire. It was maddening. It had nowhere to go. Taxian-jun couldn’t understand it, couldn’t make sense of it, why it felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. All he knew was that he had held Chu Wanning’s cold, lifeless body inside of his arms, and it had felt real, in the way nothing had in a long, long time. Chu Wanning had left him. Chu Wanning had left him behind, and he wasn’t supposed to leave Taxian-jun, not until Taxian-jun allowed it, which he never would, because Chu Wanning was his, dammit. Despite his hatred, or because of it, Chu Wanning was Taxian-jun’s, and Taxian-jun was-

A cough crawled up his throat, and another, and another, until soon his chest was heaving, his ribs shuddering, his lungs bereft of all breath. Distantly, Taxian-jun registered the taste of blood filling his mouth, cloying and astringent. Taxian-jun felt like laughing. Mo Ran felt like crying.

But when Mo Ran saw Chu Wanning lift a hand towards his wound, a flare of panic ripped through his heart, an icy-cold, paralytic horror he hadn’t felt in years. Mo Ran caught Chu Wanning’s wrist, squeezing, needing the reassurance of a pulse.

“Don’t. Don’t do it,” Mo Ran rasped, hating how his voice broke. “If you heal this wound….I’ll never forgive you. You can’t.”

Chu Wanning looked at him, brows furrowed, mouth set in a soft frown. Taxian-jun hated it. Hated how Chu Wanning would take this pathetic display as weakness. He was probably judging Mo Ran right now, sneering at him inside his heart, thinking him such a fool-

Taxian-jun almost flinched when the back of a soft, cool hand came to rest against his forehead. He felt his lips part, but no words came to rush out. No insults, no curses, no words of pure, unadulterated hate.

Foolishly, for a moment, Mo Ran wanted to call a name that he hadn’t in years, “....Shizun?”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning whispered, a cold hand cupping his cheek, a gentle thumb drying a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. “You must wake up.”

Taxian-jun stared at him, dazed. “Wake up?” He muttered, shaking his head, voice shrinking as he breathed, hesitantly. “This is….just a dream?”

The delicate jut of Chu Wanning’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, “Mn,” and then, with featherlight fingers, ever-so-carefully, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Taxian-jun’s ear. For a second, Mo Ran found himself leaning into the touch. “It’s just a dream.”

“I didn’t know,” Mo Ran told him, hushed like a secret. “It felt so real. This Venerable One….is confused. I’ve just been so confused, lately. It’s Xue Meng’s fault. This fucking wound - it hurts, all of the time. My chest won’t stop hurting. It’s driving me insane.”

Mo Ran bit his tongue before he could reveal more. Even in a dream, it felt far too vulnerable, far too stupid to reveal such a fear. Mo Ran had ears and he heard all the rumors the people whispered below his throne. He was a tyrant. He was bloodthirsty, cruel, worse than a beast. He was losing himself.

He was going mad.

“Wanning, how do I….how do I know what is real?” Mo Ran muttered, burying his face inside his hands to hide his burning eyes. He was just-

Mo Ran was tired. So, so very tired. He ached, down to his very bones.

“Lie down,” Chu Wanning murmured, guiding Mo Ran to the bed. “You’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

Something in Mo Ran protested this gentleness - surely it was only a prelude to more cruelty? But exhaustion was a heavy, pressing force. Inescapable. Like a limp puppet, all strings cut, Taxian-jun allowed himself to be arranged supine, and though every fiber of his being shied away from the almost gentle way the blankets were tucked in around his body, for some reason he couldn’t muster up the strength to bat Chu Wanning away, like he normally would have. In fact, Mo Ran couldn’t seem to tear his eyes, lucifugous and hot, away from Chu Wanning at all. And when Chu Wanning stood it was entirely involuntary, the way Mo Ran’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

“Will you be here, when this Venerable One wakes?” Taxian-jun asked, and maybe he meant it as a threat, but it came out as a desperate plea. Still, the derision and contempt he had come to expect from Chu Wanning was nowhere to be seen on his visage which looked in the shadows, simply put, haunted. Conflicted.

Lovelorn.

“Mn,” Chu Wanning sat down beside him, and didn’t try to free himself from Mo Ran’s grip. “I’ll be here.”

“You won’t leave?”

“I won’t leave.”

“Promise?”

“....I promise.”

Taxian-jun nodded, and though he began to drift, caught in-between veils of the living world and the insensate realm of black, his grip around Chu Wanning did not loosen, and he still found himself whispering a question, one he somehow knew only Chu Wanning held the answer to.

“Do you think dreams have any meaning?”

Just before unconsciousness could claim him once more, a whisper rang through his ears, soft-spoken yet achingly clear.

“Sometimes.”

Then….Mo Ran just wouldn’t go. Chu Wanning couldn’t do anything foolish so long as Mo Ran stayed to make sure he behaved. Right? He couldn’t let Xue Meng live, or that damn Mei Hanxue - but he could think up another plan. He had time.

Chu Wanning didn’t know how long it had been since Mo Ran had cried in front of him. Certainly, not since he was a boy

That meant he was still in there, somewhere. A heart still beat within the blackened, thorny brambles wrapped around Mo Ran’s chest.

There was still hope.

There was still a way back from hell.

Chu Wanning��s breath shuddered as it left his lungs.

He wouldn’t leave his disciple. He wouldn’t stand back and watch as Mo Ran lost any more of himself than he already had.

“It will be okay, Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning murmured, watching how the moonlight flickered across Mo Ran’s sleeping face, and how the knot of tension in between his brows only smoothed out when Chu Wanning squeezed his hand, tight, tight enough to leave his mark. “This master promises. I won’t leave you behind.”

#ranwan #mo ran 0.5 #chu wanning #mo ran x chu wanning #0.5 timeline #erha #erha fic #erha he ta de bai mao shizun #my fanfiction #danmei fanfic nightclub

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