#The book I'm writing
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so I saw a post that involves what if we ran away together and that's an integral part of one of main characters in the novel I'm writing and now I am dying to talk about it.
Please please please
#Running away together#Doomed by the narritive#The book I'm writing#The soulmates curse#Ocs#My work#Please Pleaseeee I have already talked my friends and family to death about it#Yall gotta pinky promise not to steal this if I do talk about it though
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those first couple weeks after escaping a time loop have gotta be disorienting as all fuck. all those little cues that used to tell you what's about to happen are now triggers that cause you to brace for something that isn't coming. you have to relearn the permanence of death -- hell, you have reacquaint yourself with the entire concept of finality altogether. everything keeps changing but it never changes back and you keep having to remind yourself that this is normal. "it won't reset anymore," you echo to yourself, over and over and over, like a broken record, like you're still trapped in a loop, like someone who escaped the time loop but was doomed to bring it into the future with them
#orcspeak#edit: this is not about fanfic nor is it about a specific fanfic nor is it about a specific show or movie or book#this post is about the time loop trope itself which occurs in many different stories spanning many different art forms#i don't read or write fanfic and I'm not looking for fanfic recs and whatever character you think this is about there's#an 80 percent chance i don't recognize their name
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I try to make something beautiful of my pain, but sometimes I just have to sit with it. Sometimes all you can do is sit with it.
#spilled thoughts#poem#poems on tumblr#poetry#spilled poetry#spilled heart#spilled words#heartbreak#love poem#i love him#spilled poem#spilled writing#spilled emotions#spilled truth#spilled feelings#spilled ink#sad poetry#i'm sad#sad thoughts#sad poem#sadgirl#sad quotes#lit#literature#poems and quotes#love quotes#life quote#quotes#quoteoftheday#book quote
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i need guenhwyvar to be Cat so bad
#dnd#dungeons and dragons#forgotten realms#drizzt do'urden#legend of drizzt#ra salvatore didn’t write about ALL the cups and plates that guen destroyed in blingdenstone but i know the truth#i think all the art i've made exists somewhere between homeland and exile/during exile#bc that's where i am rn and i will not spoil myself#her purrs must be SO loud#enough to cause an earthquake#i love these stupid books so much i'm so ill#she's literally described as his first and closest friend you CANNOT tell me he doesn't give her all the scritches and snuggles she wants
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One of my favorite parts about the writing of Howl's Moving Castle is how easy it is to write off all the things from our world at first as him just being a weird wizard™ (also thanks to bestie @jutenium for spotting this I wouldn't put it like that without you!!/pos). Sure, Sophie uses weird descriptions, but readers have every reason to believe them because of the way Howl is presented as a character. When Sophie says he wrote with a quill that doesn't need an ink, you wouldn't think it was actually a ballpoint pen, you would think Howl had just enchanted his quill so that it wouldn't need ink! When she adds that she can't make out a single word, you think he has matchingly terrible handwriting, but in fact Sophie has simply never seen a pen writing. When she sees the mysterious labels on his books, you think he's keeping a lot of obscure magical literature, but it's really just an encyclopedia and a guide like "Top 10 Rugby Tips." When Sophie notices the bottles in Howl's bathtub, you think they're some kind of magical jars where he keeps girl's hearts, but I'm almost certain that they're just 'Dove' and 'Head and Shoulders' that he's enhanced with his spells and put silly labels on. When you read Calicifer singing a song in a language Sophie doesn't understand, you think it's some kind of ancient cipher or code, but it's actually just a rugby song in Welsh that Howl sings when he's drunk. And finally, when you see the terrifying black door, which is completely shrouded in darkness, you imagine a passage to an eerie, mythical place, similar to what Miyazaki showed us - but it's just fucking Wales.
#howl's moving castle#sophie hatter#howl pendragon#howell jenkins#hmc#howl's moving castle book#hmc book#diana wynne jones#I love him he's a mess#he just goes 'I'm gonna make myself such a quirky horrible image so that no one wouldn't question the weird stuff I keep using'#('because no WAY I'M GONNA WRITE WITH A QUILL 20TH CENTURY GUYS)#and it WORKED#(Also that probably why Suliman can't do the same thing. He's too classic Royald Wizard™)#(and ppl would have questions to him)#(but Howl? He's fine guys he's like that All The Time)
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I'm realizing that Stan is actually incredibly smart. Like in a Ford kind of way to some extent.
Like yes Stan's street smart and life smart but he's also got the smarts that Ford's praised for. Because he had rebuilt the portal and figured out his brother's notes and equations.
Like do you know how hard math is on Ford and Fiddleford's level of expertise??? How complicated and delicate it is????? Especially the kind that brings portals to life???? And Stan figured it out. Had taught himself to read and comprehend these difficult things. Difficult things that requires college degrees in science and mathematics.
And Stan did this on an incomplete high school grade level of academics.
That's fucking nuts. Sure it took 30 years but he learned it. By himself, can you imagine how frustrated he got, teaching himself Ford's educational level??? Using his mechanical skills of fixing his car to be up to par to Fiddleford's impressive craftsmanship????
And I can just see how Ford and Fiddleford react post apocalypse. Ford doing equations and science stuff and talking while Fiddleford listens and gives his input when Stan pipes up unintentionally and puts his hat into the ring. And it's mathematically sound?? And these two men are just blown away cuz what the actual hell?? Ford's immediately questioning Stan, wanting to hear his thoughts while Fiddleford watches impressed and Stan's mortified and a bit overwhelmed. Or Fiddleford working on something and Ford's watching him when Stan points out a better way to make a part work and Fidds is like omg thank you Stanley??? And Ford's looking at his little brother dumbfounded and itching to bomb him with questions and whatnot.
Stan never knows peace afterwards.
#oli talks#ooc#muns ramblings#mindless ramblings of a madman#my writing#kinda#gravity falls#gf#gravity falls spoilers#gravity falls book of bill#gravity falls stan pines#gravity falls ford pines#gravity falls fiddleford#gravity falls stanley#gravity falls stanford#stanford pines#stanley pines#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddleford hadron mcgucket#stan and ford#ford and stan#stan twins#mystery trio#sea grunks#I know I'm not the first one who thought of this but it's actually like really hitting me that Stan's hella smart#he just doesn't realize it
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
#legend of zelda#loz#twilight princess#loz tp#i'm still reeling that someone sent me an ask about this one.. that they took the time to find my tumblr and tell me they liked it#it really meant a lot; thank you to anyone that stops to leave comments like that. they make me happy#but yeah! here's the usual symbolism ramble:#i thought it'd be cool to have the 'spirits' flowing one way and the cats walking through them the other way#to kinda show the difference in life inhabiting the village in the past and present#link's face is covered because impaz was just waiting for 'the hero' so his clothes are what matters; not his face#and it (hopefully) gives a surreal and intangible sense to 'the hero' she could only hope would actually show up#you can feel free to interpret the glowy blue sheikah as ghosts or just as memories of the past! i couldn't decide either way#the one on the bottom left is oot impa since she's implied to be the village founder. so i guess she would be a ghost actually?#fan art#my art#project stuff#and ahhh the book-- everyone's stuff is so beautiful!!#especially the writing. some of the fics made me really tear up and some were so fun and clever. i really love them#a lot of them captured the sheer burden of the role of the sheikah; all of the time and grief and doubt#i know i always say this stuff about every project but. the people i get to work with in these are truly so skilled every time
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Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.
Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …
- 🍯
Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵💫
"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."
With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.
Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.
"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"
As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.
"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.
You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.
"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.
You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.
Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.
"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.
"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.
"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.
"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."
Update: Part 2
#asks answered <3#becca writes spice#🍯 anon#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader smut#dom!bucky#I think this might be one of my favourites that I've written recently#That last line has been my go - to fantasy this week#it's come into my head every morning when I'm walking to the train#and I planned to write an exploration of it today#but you know#I like it just left there like that for now#I've spent most of my free time trying to book a mid-week city break#but I don't know where to start#I got a new piercing this week and I love it!!#but I was in work on Friday talking about it#and our graphic designer asked how many piercings I had#so I told him I have 8. So 3 in each ear#and the expression on his face was just pure maths#he didn’t question it lmao
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John Green & David Levithan, Will Grayson, Will Grayson // @sweatermuppet // Jamaica Kincaid, The Autobiography of My Mother // Entropy, "Luck" // Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait In Letters // @100493503004422 // I'm Not a Good Person—Pat The Bunny // Veronica Roth, Insurgent
#theme: i am a bad person#(i'm scared that this is true)#web weaving#webs#web weave#webweave#poetry#aesthetic#prose#prose poetry#art#collage#literature#book quotes#books#novels#novel quotes#quotes#words#writing#excerpt#poem#poem excerpt#song lyrics#shame#fear#compilation#parallels#john green#inspo
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Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature
#bingqiu#shen qingqiu#luo binghe#svsss#sqq#lbh#my art#which is honestly just to say that i've finished the other two print books i was reading#and am now prepared to leap feet first into svsss bk4#i succeeded in holding off for an entire two weeks. i have the conviction of a wet paper towel.#lets see bk4 was described as - what? - an ''angst and smut pile''??#i am very much looking forward to this#i was promised a story with my snake boy#because i am very much not over zhuzhi-lang's fate so this had better be A REALLY NICE HAPPY ONE FOLKS#anyway have sqq and lbh cuddling and reading as i project on them#i like to assume that as time goes on sqq is able to relax his persona a bit more around lbh#i think he should get to cuddle and bitch about shitty novels#but man sqh is really the ONLY source of any books that have an even slightly modern cadence/style i have a feeling sqq would be very keen#though if i'm being honest i really wonder if sqh could ever bring himself to write fiction again#if you're A Writer it tends to be hard to RESIST you just get an itch to tell a story#but also like... the fear that all of this could happen again... or that the characters you're creating might be REAL and SUFFERING...#yeah... i honestly suspect he can't write anymore and that it honestly probably sucks a lot... but for the sake of this joke he is :P
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Listen to me Suzanne Collins did not have to give Katniss and Peeta a history before the games. She did NOT have to do that. She could have just had their story begin when Peeta's name was called. She could have had them be total strangers until the moment of the reaping.
Like: "And the boy tribute is... Peeta Mellark!" Katniss: Who's that? Or she could have made them vaguely familiar with each other! Peeta's name is called and Katniss just thinks, Oh, I know that name! He's in my class, actually. Poor boy... Anyway!
Either way, SC could have written the rest of the story exactly the same! I think many authors would have done that! Because if Peeta's purpose in the book was to be Gale's competition, to be one of the 3 corners of a love triangle, THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE WAY TO DO IT!! But that's NOT how she did it because that's NOT what Peeta is.
And who is he? To Katniss, Peeta's someone who saved her and her family and received nothing in return except a beating. Peeta's someone she has had her eye on but has never worked up the courage to talk to. Peeta's someone she associates with kindness and hope. And all this before the start of the events of the book! Just because WE, the READERS, met Gale before Peeta and immediately felt a connection with him does NOT mean that was Katniss's experience! And that's what SC is trying to tell us!
To dismiss Katniss and Peeta's past as unimportant or inconsequential compared to whatever Katniss and Gale have in the present is to fundamentally misunderstand Katniss as a character and, as a result, condemn oneself to never fully understand the choices she makes in the future.
Suzanne Collins wrote it that way on purpose because she had something to say. And no one will ever be able to convince me that something wasn't "It was always going to be Peeta".
#thg#everlark#peeta mellark#katniss everdeen#the hunger games#sorry i hope this one's not too harsh#i just has to let it out lol#I'm not saying people only like gale because they misunderstand SC's writing#obviously everyone has preferences and that's great snd normal#but SC wrote Katniss to have preferences too?#and those preferences are pretty subtle at times I'll admit#but sometimes they're so glaringly obvious#i struggle to empathize with people who don't understand these books and honestly that's a me problem#but it really is difficult when people seem to hate Katniss because she didn't make THEIR choices#okay rant over
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Tim, looking around the darkened corridor: "You think it's a good idea to be breaking into random places right now?"
Jason said nothing, fumbling in his pockets.
Dick: "You live here, don't you?" Which gets everyone's attention laser-focused.
Jason just cast him a look, getting the door open.
Steph entered first, smacking into something that falls over. "Jeez." She complained, stumbling backward until Cass steadied her by the shoulders. "Sorry, that's my bad."
Duke turned on the lights in one motion, making everyone blink and wince.
"Get off me." Damian snapped, and Dick carefully let him go, letting him limp angrily into a chair. He frowned, scrutinizing the place. "You live here? Why would anyone--"
"Guys." Dick rubbed his eyes over the mask, cutting off Damian and Jason’s sharp answer. "First aid kit?" Dick asked Jason tiredly.
Jason nodded, moving to get it and heard Damian ask "What?" in response to a patented glare he must be getting.
Tim had made a beeline for the kitchen. "Dude, why do you have a singular set of dishes? And why are there just guns in this cabinet?"
Jason scoffed, handing Dick the kit. "Didn't realize I was running a fucking bed and breakfast."
"There's guns in this cabinet too!" Tim shook his head, opening and closing two more. "Oh good, just large knives in this one."
At Tim's raised eyebrows, Jason went into the kitchen and shooed Cass down the counter she was perched on, grabbing the paper plates he kept in a drawer and shoving them into Tim's chest.
Glancing at the way Steph was rubbing her neck, slouched at the table, Jason grabbed two ice packs, sliding one her way and throwing the other to Damian.
Duke, taking a book off Jason's meticulously organized shelf: "Why do you have seven copies of Pride and Prejudice? Did you keep forgetting you bought it, or--?"
Jason, storming over to put the book back. "Stop."
Dick looked up from the wound he was stitching. "Are they different at at all?"
"Are they in different languages?" Steph asked.
"Did you barter them for food? Because your fridge is fucking empty." Tim reported.
Jason groaned, realizing that they weren't going to drop it. "One has a different introduction and one is the zombies version. And yes, the rest are the same, now could you all stop touching stuff?"
"Why do you have five copies of the same book?"
#New format I'm testing out: too lazy to write a fic and too content heavy to be a text post#I present to you minificpost#Batman#Dc comics#Mini something#Batfamily#Jason Todd#Dick Grayson#Duke Thomas#cassandra cain#stephanie brown#damian wayne#Tim Drake#batfam#Don't know why I fixated on pride and Prejudice#Man reads other books too lol
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another one that I'm not super happy with, but continuing to mess with it isn't going to help! so here he is! 🦇 there was a lot I was trying to get across in this one, so uhhhhh hopefully it reads.
we're almost out of unique magics now...just Ace (and maybe Grim?) left!
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers#unique magic posters#drawing lilia slightly more on-model than i usually do feels so wrong#i just want to draw the tallest spikes#lilia: (writing down his height) 5'6“...5'2” in a hat#(actually i'm pretty sure he would just write 'fun-size' but i digress)#anyway lilia. hey lilia. your magic is not cradle-specific so WHY is it called that#did it come in like 'so in like 500-ish years we're going to have a significant moment with a cradle. just trust me bro.'#'in the meantime enjoy having the weirdest magic name ever'#probably came in useful for raising kids though#don't put that in your mouth don't you know where it's BEEN#because i do#(long stare off into middle distance) i know where it's been
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"I don't know who I want to be, anymore."
Oc - Cirque | The Dragon Chosen by the Shadows |
| mary oliver / franz wright / chelsea dingman / mary oliver / sue zhao / can't find :( / can't find :( / i am a dog. i have blood all over my teeth. - sciencedfiction / little weirds - jenny slate / the unabridged journals of sylvia |
#RAHHH guys I'm so crazy about her you all should totally ask me about her lore#web weave#webweave#webweaving#web weaving#oc webweave#oc web weave#oc - Cirque#definitely NOT the only webweave ill be making for her#still getting the hang of making these... gonna try to make some more for specific times in her life rather than just jumping around#on love#on longing#on grief#guys i love her shes so fun to squish#making these oc webweaves is so fun because i get to talk about them. also it helps me flesh out their characters#i need a tag for this specific universe of ocs lol#writing a book about them so i guess when i draft up some titles for that book ill use that for them#my webs#alt text
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ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????
#ramble#my first thought was like: how is this even a debate what about blind people. not every book comes in braille but MOST have an audiobook#or dyslexic people#you still enjoyed the book!! you still absorbed it!!! you got EXACTLY the same thing as people who read the words!!!#how does it not count????#i guess you miss out on the 'learning new vocab' you get through seeing the words but also#i don't really do audiobooks but i do a lot of podcasts esp fiction podcasts#and i have ABSOLUTELY picked up new stuff from there that helps with my writing#someone please explain how this is even an argument of COURSE it counts????#idk in my opinion finishing a book means 'i put the words in my brain and i thought about them and i enjoyed a story'#not 'i held a stack of paper in my hands for a bit'#i'm v lucky that i do have time to sit and read. and whenever i commute anywhere it's public transport so i CAN bring a book with me#but if i didn't have the free time or had to drive for hours everywhere i would be STOKED to still get to enjoy books#it's been REALLY bothering me lmao idk why i feel so strongly#for some reason it's giving the same energy as like. being told you can't take a comic or manga from the library bc it's not a 'real' book#of course it's a real book it's a story somebody wrote down#i can see this spiralling into 'if you have a kindle you aren't reading'. you have to sniff the paper. feel the papercuts
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how long have i searched for you?
azriel finds his mate in the most inopportune time and he convinces himself you haven't sought him out for good reason. he couldn't be more wrong. word count: 4.6k & god bless @strangerstilinski for making this fic ever get written <3
Though he'd deny it if ever asked, most of all to Cassian, there was a part of Azriel that had spent years upon years yearning for what it would be like when he met his mate.
A chance encounter. A friend of a friend. A shared look across a crowded room, your eyes catching, where you both suddenly just know.
A thousand possible ways to meet, to find each other. Azriel had run every scenario through his head, ten times over, both soothed and aching at the dreadful mixture of hope and doubt he had. With his rotten luck, he was probably doomed to a life without ever finding his mate. If he even had one.
However, in all his years of hoping and wishing, not once could he say that he'd imagined meeting his mate the way he did.
In a flash; a brush up during the battle of Velaris, where you, a healer, had stumbled into his life. There had been only a moment amongst all the chaos, where this deep strong pull had risen in his chest, glowing and hot like he'd never felt before.
His head had snapped around, finding the source in a heartbeat. Everything leading to you.
But it hadn't been the time, no matter that you had clearly felt it too, the glow, the pull, given away with your wide eyes and parted lips. Battle was being sieged on Velaris and despite every instinct in Azriel that roared at him to stay with you, to take you from the danger, he had a duty to fulfill.
And then, even once the battle finished, the war was waged and won, when was there time? Azriel could feel it in him, the yearning that seemed to sing from his very blood — he itched to go find you. However, there was still much to do, still orders from Rhys to carry out, mission and meetings to attend to.
Besides, you hadn't sought him out either.
So, when the chaos calmed finally and he finally had time to breathe, Azriel did not seek you out. He waited. He longed.
But if you wished to stay away and never see him, then Azriel would respect it. He would never impose on your life if you did not wish it, no matter how long he had waited for his mate.
One month of quiet life rolled on.
Today, the weather in Velaris greatly contrasted his state. Exhausted from his mission and a tad more scratched up that he had hoped to be, Azriel feels like a cloud on the city's sparkling sky. He's dirty, half soaked, and probably dripping blood and mud all over the tiles.
Gods, he was tired.
The fly back to the House of Wind had been harder, his landing a little ungraceful due to the slices he bore on his wings. Not the worst of his injuries but still, they throbbed painfully and Azriel felt the rivets of rain and blood trickling along them. His wings gave a little shudder and even his shadows seemed to droop.
"And he returns—" Cassian's voice announced his arrive before his feet had even touched onto the balcony. Upon the sight of his brother, hunched and not his usual self, his tone shifted quickly. "Holy Cauldron, what happened to you?"
Azriel bristled, schooling away his sneer at the thought of the fight he just won. He rolled his shoulders back, biting back his wince at the tenderness of his wounds, and grimaced.
"Same thing that always does, brother."
Cassian frowned, his concern evident with the furrow between his brows. "You're going to see a healer."
His tanned hand gestured to Azriel's drooping wing. His question was more of an instruction. Azriel felt apprehension roll through him, torn between the sweet relief he know would come with having his wounds tended to and the first healer he could think of: you.
He shook the thought away. Nearly two months since he'd first seen you had passed and he found himself infuriated with how his brain seemed intent on taunting him. You pervaded his thoughts just as frequently as you did on that first day, even with your distance.
"Madja does not reside here anymore."
"So?" Cassian pressed. "Gods, I will take you myself if I must."
Azriel huffed. He knew Cassian could make good on his words and as another ache rippled through his back, making every slice on his skin known, he let himself relent. Besides, what were the chances of his healer being you?
"I will go." Azriel replied, straightening up his slumped shoulders. A hint of smugness crossed Cassian's face before he smiled, genuine as he lay his hand on Azriel's shoulder.
"Before you go," Cassian said, beginning to grin. "Did you wipe the floor with them?"
Azriel's lips quirked, a semblance of a smile. He inhaled, preparing himself for one more course of travel before he could rest. "Of course."
—
The second flight had agony clawing deeper within his wings, a protest with every strong beat of them, as he flew to the Apothecary down amongst the city's heart. The surging pain fought for his attention, like a poison writhing beneath his bones, and Azriel was nearly embarrassed at his hard landing.
It was loud, his boots slamming down into the pavement before the Apothecary, his wings flaring to catch him. He could feel the tremor in his muscles, each leg held taut. He looked up at his destination.
The building before him was a sage green, white trims around each of the windows. Within, through the panes of glass, Azriel could see a healer jump at his sudden entrance. His shadows wisped around him rapidly, as though they might soften his abrupt interruption.
Azriel straightened up, tucking his wings in as he reined himself in. He could feel his emotions boiling up within him, swirling and rising as he peered in the window before him. Apprehension tinged with something he wouldn't acknowledge, something too close to hope.
The glow in his chest was back. You must be near.
Azriel wasn't sure what was winning; the absolute urge to follow the tug on his chest to find the person on the other end of it, or the part of him that would prefer never knowing if you wanted him or not.
The bell above the door jingled quietly as he pushed it open. He was careful to mind his mess, far too aware of how he was tracking half a mountain of dirt in with him. Eyes scanned over each thing in the room, calculating in a way he always was.
Around him, his shadows had gotten zippier, darting about and back to him; as though, they too, could sense the nearness of his mate.
The Fae behind the counter stared, wide-eyed, whether at his shadows or simply himself. Azriel willed them to calm as best he could. They were being unnaturally eager to leave his side.
"Hello," Azriel started, unsure on the proper procedures. He wondered if just gesturing to himself might work. The Fae behind the counter, a fair women with dark hair, seemed to finally shake herself out of it.
"Hello!" She amended her behaviour quickly. Her hand waved behind her, gesturing to the corridor that stretched out behind her. "Let's do something about those wounds. If you head down and take the last door on the left, y/n will be available to get you on the mend."
The name she spoke sent a pang through Azriel and he wondered, he hoped, if a name that beautiful could potentially belong to you. Maybe, he would be better to request someone else, if it was you down the end of the hall. Hesitance kept him rooted to the floor. His eyes sweeping down the hall and back to the Fae woman before him.
"Thank you," He finally murmured. His began walking, passing the counter and heading down the hallway — mindful of his drooping, tired wings that threatened to leave a trail behind him.
Final door on the left. Azriel paused before it, deciding to knock before he entered. He could hear someone inside, bustling around in the space. His knuckles grazed against the door.
"Come in!"
A voice like honey called out, wrapping around him like the softest silk, every nerve in him trilling and burning. Azriel swallowed heavily, knowing who must be on the other side of that door. He should walk back up that hallway. He shouldn't go through this door. He should give you the privacy you so clearly desire.
And yet, the warm glow in his chest urged him forward, urged him closer, and Azriel couldn't resist being selfish. Just this once, just to see you once more. He pushed the door open and slid silently in the room.
You're everything.
Gods, as he laid his eyes on you now, Azriel had to commend himself for ever managing to keep himself from you. You’re ethereal — and the glowing tug on his chest had expanded ten-fold as you turned to face him, every ounce of his being yearning, aching, to be closer to you.
Azriel was a strong man but even he couldn’t help the way his body swayed closer, a ripple passing through his wings subtly. They gave a tiny shake behind him. His shadows seemed to be dancing across his shoulders, gleeful in their wispy movements.
Even his pain had been put aside for this moment — dialed down to barely a twinge as he drunk in the sight of you before him, his eyes scouring your face for every detail he could, lest it be the only time he got to.
Faintly, he felt his lips twitch. His hands curled up at his sides, a minuscule motion. You’re… very beautiful. You’re everything he’s been waiting for — and Azriel is sure that shine of the night sky he adores so reverently is rivaled only by your eyes.
“I—” He remembered himself, the word rasping out before he could stop it. He realised he was not sure what he intended to say. “Forgive me.”
You seem perplexed by his words if the wrinkle between your eyebrows was an indication.
One of his shadows snaked down his arm, flitting out to meet you and Azriel felt himself flush slightly. He called it back sternly and silently — only more embarrassed when it didn’t listen, circling your wrist and tickling its way up your arm.
But there was no apprehension in your face, nor in your laugh which felt like a shot of espresso to his system, as his shadows continued badgering you. Something close to mortification crept up his neck as two more shadows darted out to join the first, curling excitedly around your neck like a lover would.
“My apologies,” Azriel forced his mouth to work. “They are not usually so… misbehaved.”
You waved him off, another laugh tittering from your mouth as a shadow curled over your ear. Surprisingly, whether through some bond or not, he knew that you were not afraid of him in any sense.
Your hand waved him over to the table set up for patients, ushering him over. “That’s alright. You can tell me what I’m to forgive you for as I look over your wounds.”
Azriel didn’t move. His feet felt rooted to the floor, heart turning itself inside out. Did you not know? Could you not feel it? Were you simply sweet enough that you would still tend to him, heal him, even though you knew and had decided to keep your distance?
“I…” He selected his words carefully, watching you closely. “I did not wish to make you see me if it was not on your own terms."
You were setting up your items on a silver tray beside the medical table and when you looked over your shoulder, you seemed confused that he hadn’t moved. You urged him over with a jerk of your chin and a smile that melted through his chest, hot like candle wax.
“Nonsense.” You patted the table invitingly. “C'mon, you’re dripping blood on my floors.”
His politeness had him standing up straighter, wings bunching up as he realised they had begun to drag along the ground. It was the thing that finally got him to move, his feet stepping forward in an instant.
“I’m—”
“Kidding. I was kidding.” You intercept his apology easily, eyes bright.
Something preens within him at how you knew what he would say so soon within meeting him. Azriel took another step and let himself sink down onto the padded table, his wings resting gently around him. Even seeing you, talking to you, is not enough to chase away his fatigue. You hand him a clean cloth to clear the muck from his face and he does so silently.
“Are you fit to remove your leathers?” You asked, your gaze turned analytic as you scanned over his muscled body for his injuries.
Azriel nodded, not trusting his voice. As each piece of armor was pulled off, not a wince in sight, he was surprised at the flustering feeling within him. It was light, just a ball of nervousness, tinged with embarrassment, in his chest — which made no sense. As he pulled the final layer of clothing from his chest, Azriel realised that this feeling wasn’t coming from him.
You were staring as politely as you could, eyes darting around the injuries scattered across his torso but with a nervous flush to you. Your eyes flitted across his chest, once, twice. Barely a glimpse— something that would’ve gone unnoticed if he was not the spymaster of this court.
Azriel couldn’t resist. “Everything alright?”
If he had made voice a tad gruffer than usual, that was between him and the Cauldron.
“Yes.” You smiled at him again and it nearly made him miss the pinch in your voice. Nearly. “Just thinking that if you look like this, I hardly want to imagine the other guys.”
Azriel bit back his smile, only half succeeding in hiding it. It was wiped as you finally stepped closer, examining him properly. A furrow between your brows. Azriel could feel the hot burning want to smooth it out with his thumb, to take your worry from you.
His shadows had slipped further from him, more and more of them following your gentle hands as you skimmed atop his skin, deep in thought. They swirled around your hands, festering where you were nearly touching him, and Azriel desperately willed them to relax. They did not obey.
“The shadows,” He began, already apologetic.
Your eyes flashed to his and then back on the laceration splitting the skin on his shoulder. You pulled one of your hands back, just an inch, focusing on how the shadows followed you. Tiny wisps dancing around your hand, light touches that reminded you of a thousand tiny kisses.
“It’s alright.” You hummed, sweet with a smile. “They’re sort of lovely.”
And if Azriel had felt your momentary fluster, he had no doubt he would be unable to hide the swell of surprise within him.
You finally pulled your hands back, beginning to circle around the table to take a closer look at his wings. Azriel couldn’t repress his shiver at the thought— his mate, so close to something so precious to him. He was torn between emotions; his body buzzing at the thought of your touch and his mind adamant that you wanted to keep your distance for a reason.
“I must say, I have heard of Illyrian wings before,” Your voice breathed over his shoulder, distracted by the view. Without meaning to, Azriel’s wings gave a little twitch. “But never seen them this close. They’re very beautiful.”
Azriel blinked and willed himself to remain neutral even if all his shadows seemed to give him away; their flitterings only increased at your words.
He bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Then there was a soft touch along the leathery skin of his wing, your fingers, tentative and gentle. Azriel swallowed the noise in his throat. His wings gave another involuntary shiver.
“Is it alright to… touch?”
It’s sweet of you to ask even though he’s sure you’ll have no way of healing him if he says no. Azriel steeled himself, forcing himself to remain neutral.
“Yes,” He murmured. The wounds across his torso had already begun to heal themselves, his Fae blood clotting and knitting the skin back together at an achingly slow pace. He was too tired to heal himself properly. He had known his wings would require the most attention.
It was an effort not to jump when your touch returned, tiny fingertips that felt startlingly warm suddenly. Azriel could feel the tendrils of your magic as it poured out through your fingers, a healing salve to the agony of his wings. It felt so good he struggled to not sigh aloud, his scarred hands flexing in his lap.
“You know,” You began, voice quiet. “I was hoping you might seek me out but perhaps, for a less painful reason.”
While Azriel fought to keep his head from snapping around, his shadows did no such thing— all of them jumping from their usual hiding place. He swatted at them, mortified at how revealing they seemed to be in your presence.
Still, there was no battling away the kernel of hope that sat deep in the pit of his stomach, mixed tightly with disbelief.
Another touch along his wings, another warming healing glow. Azriel cleared his throat and fought to keep his voice even.
“You were… waiting for me?”
Gods, he couldn’t have sounded more pathetic if he tried. But his head was spinning, the glowing pull on his chest tightening, the kernel growing larger and larger. You were waiting for him, you were waiting for him.
“Of course, why would I not be?”
“I…” He had never been so lost for words in all his centuries of living. Never sure how deep the rift within him ran, a part of him convinced that the reason he had not found a mate in all his time was because he had not deserved one.
“I did not want to impose on you, I know that not all—”
It was all coming out wrong. Azriel reined in his rampant emotions, the swirling of his shadows dimming for a moment. Your hands had paused their ministrations on his wings, listening intently. He couldn’t bear to turn to face you as he spoke.
“I wanted to give you space to decide yourself. To leave the decision in your hands. Because I would understand if—”
He cut himself off with a sharp inhale. Voicing it, suggesting the possibility of you hoping and waiting for a mate all your life, just as he did, only to be disappointed that discover it was him— he couldn’t say it aloud.
He was sure you must be able to feel his fear and clamped his mental shields down as tight as he could. He would not guilt you into this.
“I can see why the Mother made us mates.” You mused after a moment.
Azriel nearly shuddered at the word, at you referring to him at your mate so casually— a yawning chasm of want spreading over his entire body. Gently, slowly, your hands began to work again.
“Here I was,” you continued, voice light and hands warm. “Thinking that, maybe, the shadowsinger had his duties and would come find me if he wished. And that I would understand if he never came to find me at all.”
This time, Azriel could not resist turning around to see your face. His heart ached terribly to hear what you had thought. His shadows spun around his shoulders and as he turned, they twisted and ran for you.
“No,” He said severely. He couldn’t help the way he shook his head, like a petulant child but you were just so wrong. “No, I— I’m sorry, I never meant for you to think— please forgive me.”
Despite his evident distress, you smiled easily with a little shake of your head. “There is nothing to forgive. It would be, well, almost hypocritical if I let you apologise for doing the same thing I did to you.”
Amongst his relief, Azriel felt his chest pulse in adoration, a smile forming on his lips. Twisted back on the table, your hands mending along his wings, the thing he’d wanted for — had spent so many years envisioning — finally finding him. He would not have it any other way.
“I’ve waited for you for five hundred years.” He croaked.
Your eyes widened a fraction and you blinked owlishly at him for a moment as his words sunk in.
“Well,” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly. Azriel could feel the nervousness radiating off you in waves. “I hope after that all that waiting it wasn’t too underwhelming—”
“It wasn’t.” He interrupted. “It isn’t. You’re…”
It was an effort to restraint himself — to not be too much, too soon.
“Despite the knots we both seemed to tie ourselves in,” He huffed a silent laugh, melting as you relaxed too. “Please believe me when I say I would not have it anything other way.”
You glowed, a sweet emotion singing from you so loudly that Azriel couldn’t not feel it. You hadn’t accepted the bond yet and still… he could feel the strong emotions as they rippled through you. Joy. He was so happy that it was joy, more than anything else. His shadows seemed to be split between the two of you, protecting you as much as they did himself.
Then suddenly, your eyes widened again, as if another thought had occurred to you.
“Wait a minute, five hundred years?” You repeated his words back to him with an air of disbelief. “You’re an old man!”
His laugh escaped him before he could capture it, entranced at your delightful quick wit. Your eyes were bright, your pretty mouth pulled into your smile.
The ache in his wings had dulled almost completely and Azriel absentmindedly noticed you had managed to heal up the majority of his wounds during your conversation. They fluttered appreciatively and your eyes darted back down to them.
“Is that to be a problem?” He teased lightly.
Your obvious flustering pooled off you, sliding down along the bond even as he felt you desperately trying to curb it. Even then, you couldn’t resist another glimpse at his toned back.
He certainly didn’t look like an old man— not with the taut tan muscles of his back, his large biceps, nor his handsome young face. His hazel eyes watched playfully as you allowed yourself one long look over him.
“Nope,” you said decisively, pressing down your grin. You held your hands up defensively, as if it would aid your point. “No problems here.”
Your footsteps were light as you rounded the table to face him from the front, your healing job completed. For a quiet moment, Azriel could only stare — holding his breath, waiting.
He schooled away any thoughts of how much it would hurt to part from you, now that he had finally found you, and spoke again.
“It doesn’t have to be now.” He said, hazel eyes fixed on your own. He made sure his emotions were unwavering, that you would not feel swayed to spare his feelings. A shadow skittered across your shoulder.
“I want you to be sure. I would never want you to feel as though you had no choice. We— I can wait, I have waited years for you, I can—”
His words were smothered in his own breathy gasp as you reached out, one finger trailing across the peak of his wing. Something like pure desire shot down his spine and he did everything in his power to hold in his growl.
“Something told me that would get you to stop talking.” You said, with a hint of teasing.
A seriousness flicked across your face, settling into your expression as you took in the male before you, your mate — and you could feel his want, the enormity of his yearning trickling down the bond— and yet, you knew that he would walk away from it in a second if you asked him to.
You had no intention of doing any such thing.
“While you may have me beat on the waiting,” You said softly. It didn’t feel right when you’ve only just met him to reach out, but the urge swims within you anyways.
You reached out to touch his face, your hand as soft and warm as a sunbeam on his skin.
“I do not wish to extend that waiting for any longer, my mate.”
Your words had an instant effect, a shudder that passed across his face, eyes fluttering, the flick of his wings spreading out and forwards, as though reaching for you. You kept your hand steady.
Azriel allowed himself to lean into your touch. Allowed every feeling to flow down the warm tug in his chest, over the bridge that kept him inexplicably connected to you — overwhelming bouts of relief, of love, all of it unrestrained. And he could feel you on the other end, meeting it all with the softest, kindest assurance.
“Can…” He murmured, nearly embarrassed. He would have been if you were looking at him any way other than completely adored. His shadows had finally slowed, soft caressing motions along your shoulders and neck. He dared to ask. “Would you say it once more?”
You smiled, brighter than the sun and softer than moonlight, unable to resist your temptation to get nearer to him. You inched closer, letting yourself breathe in the scent of him greedily, knowing he was doing the same. Both of you desperate to memorise each other, despite knowing you had forever to come.
Your nose brushed his and you nuzzled against it gently, eyes sliding closed. Azriel released a shaky breath, his scarred hands clenching tightly in his lap, terribly overwhelmed in a way he’d never been before. If you had peeked over his shoulder, you might have seen the slight quiver in his wings.
“Azriel,” you whispered. “My mate.”
The shadows around both of you suddenly laid down very still, as if they had encountered a feeling within their master that had not yet before; a calming tranquility. The moment lingered as you let your words sink in, watching his closed eyes. You let yourself steal this moment with him.
“Though,” you pulled back from him, watching his hazel eyes open again. The shadows around him picked up, lazily flitting around. “If you want to get all cleaned up before dinner, you best head home soon.”
“Dinner.” Azriel repeated, the smallest scrunch between his eyes.
You stepped back from him, smoothing your hands down your front almost nervously— but no, it was closer to excitement, he realised.
“Dinner, yes.” Azriel said, catching on, his wings flaring out for just a moment. You grinned, endeared entirely by all his little tells despite his apparently stony demeanour. You could see him beneath it, the soft kind Male that the Mother had made for you.
“It would be an honour.” He added seriously, finally getting to his feet, preparing to leave. You ached at the thought — but more of you preened, knowing you would see him not long after. His seriousness made you laugh.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda intense?”
Azriel smiled, his shadows moving more deftly now. “And yet, never has it sounded so sweet as it does coming from you.”
You flushed and it was made entirely worse by the chuckle you felt down his end of the bond. You jabbed him in the shoulder, a bit miffed when he didn’t sway in the slightest.
“Alright, no more mud on my floors.” You ordered, faux serious as you pointed to the door. “I will see you later tonight.”
“Promise?” He asked, once more to check— but mostly to see that elated grin he was already falling in love with.
“I swear on my mate." You promised back, delighted when he grinned — properly, teeth and all — and you stole one final glance at your forever as he disappeared out the door.
part two here
#hi! if you're reading this i'm new here! :D#well#i read these books awhile ago but... new to writing... for azzy baby <3#so feel free to tell what you think (unless you think it suckssss then keep that one quiet ples)#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic
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