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gguk-n · 9 days ago

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Chapter 1- The Proposal

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- The sponsor's say they'll pull out if Lando doesn't fix his ways. So, Zak stages an intervention. Y/N can't get approved for visa, no matter how hard she tries. Zak offers to help. An honest and mutually beneficial relationship is formed.

The scene is set. The MTC is almost empty to the wandering eye, but in reality, every one was sat in the huge conference hall Zak had constructed for other reason not pertaining to the one they had gathered for. "So, we're gathered here today" Zak began only to be interrupted by Oscar, "I still don't get why I'm here when this is about Lando." Zak sighed, "This is about me?" Lando asked surprised. Oscar looks at him with a raised eyebrow and then the other people at the table like in the Office. "Oscar, this is a team problem and we must deal with it as a team." Zak spoke while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now where was I? Before I was rudely interrupted" Zak paused; "The sponsors aren't happy and want to pull away because of Lando's antics" Zak finished. "What? Why me? What about Oscar?" Lando pointed out like a child caught in trouble. "As far as I know, Oscar is extremely sponsor friendly with his long term girlfriend and polite demeanour" Zak said looking pointedly at Lando.

The table erupted in whispers, "What have I do?" Lando piped in. "The partying, the girls, the drinking. Might I continue?" Zak asked. Lando sighed, "So, what do you want me to do? Live like a monk" he asked. "No, we just need to polish up your image, make it more sponsor friendly." Zak said. "I have an idea" someone on the table suggested. "Go on" Zak prompted. "What if we say that Lando's been in a long term healthy relationship and is about to get married?" they suggested. Everyone seemed to hum in agreement. "What no? Ask me first, I'm the one involved. This is nonsense. Ask the sponsors to leave" Lando almost shouted. "Lando, you do know those sponsors are the reason you can drive in Formula One, so that we can make cars for you to race" Zak asked pointedly. Lando's shoulder's slumped, he looked at Oscar for support but he just shrugged at Lando; "Fine" Lando sighed. "So, which model is it?" he asked. "No, we need someone low- key. Out of the public eye to make this believable" someone else piped in. "But which girl will want to agree to that" someone else argued. Lando was currently a by-stander in his own life.

Finally after much deliberation, it was decided that to help Lando clear up his image; he would fake date someone who lived a normal life. And Zak would pay them to keep their mouth shut.

Y/N Y/L/N was in her last semester at University of Monaco of her Master's programme. She been living there since the start of the programme while working as a teaching assistant to gain experience towards her final goal of becoming a Professor. The university was great; culturally diverse and the job paid decently well; in her opinion. Right now, the biggest dilemma she faced was the stupid visa that for some reason wouldn't get renewed no matter how much she tried. She was sat in an almost empty cafe in the street's of Monaco, tucked away from the public. "You must understand. I'll have the job as soon as I graduate. Please extend my visa" she almost begged. "We can't Miss Y/L/N. Those are the rules. You will have to leave the country at the end of your visa" the voice replied sternly. Y/N sighed exasperated while running her hand through her hair for the hundredth time today as the call cut.

Some one else had entered the cafe during this whole ordeal, he walked up to Y/N, "Is this seat taken?" Zak asked. Y/N just nodded without looking up. "I'm sorry for eves dropping but it seems like you're having visa issues?" Zak asked. Y/N looked up, he pushed his business card forward. "I'm Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren" he introduced himself. "Y/N Y/L/N" she shook his hand. "I could help you if you'd like" he suggested. "What do you get in return?" she asked skeptically. "Well, I will have to discuss this with the person who might help you and let you know" he said. "Maybe you can forward me your CV. I can see what I can do" he spoke slowly. Y/N bit her lip before thinking, fuck it. What's the worst that could happen? and forwarded her CV to Zak. "I'll contact you as soon as possible" Zak said smiling while he walked away. "Arrange a meeting in the MTC, I have the woman for the job" Zak called his assistant.

Back at the MTC, when everyone had gathered; "So, I met this girl, around Lando's age. She is in need of help with her visa renewal" Zak said. "If she needs a visa for Monaco, wouldn't she be better off marrying Charles" Oscar interrupted. Zak sighed loudly, "Can you stop interrupting me?" he asked. "Can you stop having me attend meeting that have nothing to do with me?" Oscar retorted. "Touche" Zak relented. "So, we help her with her visa and she helps us with Lando" Zak suggested. Everyone seemed to agree unanimously. Lando was quite the whole time, he felt like he had lost any credibility since they were in trouble with the sponsors because of him. He quietly agreed to the arrangement. "Let's meet up with her. I'll arrange for a meeting. Just the three of us" he told Lando already on the phone with Y/N before Lando could even say anything.

They had decided to meet at a cafe in Monaco. The cafe was quite, with barely any customers in site. When Zak and Lando entered, they found a woman sat at one of the tables placed at the back, nursing a cup of coffee. As soon as she saw Zak, she greeted him with a smile. Lando was looking at her the whole time. Zak cleared his throat, "This is Lando Norris" he introduced Lando to her. She smiled at him, introducing herself and the three sat down when Zak began talking. "So, here's the thing, I need help" She nodded along, "If it's not money related I think I can help" she suggested. "It isn't. I need someone to help with damage control." Zak drawled. "Lando here is a Formula One driver, he drives for my team" Zak explained, watching the confusion on Y/N's face. She nodded along. "The sponsors are creating an issue, all baseless I might add. But I do want to please them and I believe, you would be of great help" Zak said. "How can I help?" she asked. "I would like it if you two would date. Maybe like a fake relationship, just for like a year or so." Zak said quickly. "I don't...this is crazy." she expressed. "I understand this is crazy, but please help me. Being with a millionaire helps" he pleaded. "He's a millionaire" Y/N asked looking at Lando now. "I might not look the part but they pay well" Lando laughed gesturing towards Zak. "This will help, they wouldn't want to cause issues for a public figure." Zak further elaborated. "Like a mutually beneficial relationship" Zak finished. "I need to think about this. All of this is too much for me" she said quickly grabbing her things to leave. Before the two men could stop her she was out of the cafe. "Told you this was a bad idea" Lando said shaking his heading, getting up to leave.

Back home, Y/N was in turmoil. She ended up googling Lando and whatever they said was true. This wasn't some MLM or cult they were trying to indoctrinate her into. And from all the news article, it seemed that Lando had bit of a reputation of partying and sleeping around. She could see why having a girlfriend would help him. She couldn't see why she could help him though. Wouldn't he do better with a model or someone famous?

A few days of her mind being plagued with thoughts of that weird meeting with Lando and Zak; the visa officer called. "Please ma'am you have to understand, I can't do anything. I can't renew your visa" he stressed. Y/N was annoyed, "Please, you can't do this" she cried. "It's out of my control" he expressed. "Please stop calling us" he warned and cut the call. Maybe, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Y/N called up Zak, "Hi, This is Y/N" she spoke slowly. "Hi, Y/N. How are you?" Zak chirped. "I'm good. I'm up for the offer. I'll date...I mean fake date Lando" she stated. "Wonderful. That's what I would've liked to hear" he gloated. "Let's meet at the same place this weekend. And please answer a few questions my assistant will email you before we meet" Zak said before cutting the call. Zak had to make a few more calls like to Lando and his assistant.

Y/N and Lando both received emails asking them questions most couples would know about each other. Y/N wasn't sure if she should fake a personality but decided against it and answered it as truly as possible.

The weekend rolled around rather quickly and the both of them were getting dressed to meet. The cafe seemed empty yet again, a strange occurrence in their eyes. The three of them greeted each other before receiving files from Zak. "These contain information about each other learn it. And this contains how you two met, fell in love and are now happily engaged" Zak said, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. He placed the box in front of Y/N which housed a beautiful ring, "It's fake, so don't worry about losing it" Zak said looking at the pair. "I think this will turn out great. Now, Y/N, Lando's home race is soon. So, two of you will make your debut then." he explained. Y/N looked at Lando, the two of their eyes locked together as Zak explained everything.

"Here's the contract and an NDA" Zak said pulling out more papers. "How long will the contract be valid for?" she asked beginning to read it. "For a year" Zak stated. "Don't you have any questions?" Y/N asked Lando. "No" he said shaking his head and proceeded to sign the contract while Y/N took her time to read through it, not wanting to be tied by anything she couldn't be able to repay. Y/N finally signed the paper after a few more minutes of going through the contract. "Welcome to the McLaren family. Don't worry about the expenses, they will be covered by us" Zak said quickly putting the contracts away. "Pleasure doing business with you" Zak remarked. "I hope we get along well" Y/N told Lando, directing her attention to him. "Hope so. My number is in my details. I'll contact you before the weekend. See you on the Thursday after this" Lando stated. "The weekend is on the Saturday or Sunday" Y/N quizzed. "Not in Formula One" Lando said, "I'll text you the details soon" he said leaving before anyone. Y/N watched both Lando and Zak leave, confused at what she had just gotten herself into.

She reached home, kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the sofa before calling her best friend. "Guess what I just did" she said as her best friend answered the call.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654

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p0orbaby · 1 month ago

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Parental Guidance

summary: you’re on the brink of a baby induced nervous breakdown and you need your wife to pull her finger out a little

warnings: just some postnatal tension, but it all works out

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.2k

You’re pretty sure you haven’t slept in three days. Or is it four? The baby’s a demon. This tiny, adorable, 8-pound entity that seems to thrive on your misery. His cries have melded into a never-ending soundtrack of despair, punctuated by your own hollow attempts at soothing him with a song that you made up on the spot about 48 hours ago and now can’t stop singing. It’s called “Please, for the Love of All That is Good and Holy, Sleep.”

You used to be a person. You had interests, hobbies. You read books that didn’t have the words “Goodnight” and “Moon” in the title. You once watched entire movies from start to finish without interruptions. You’re pretty sure you used to smile, and not the deranged, Joker-esque grin you’ve developed from trying to maintain your sanity while walking a screaming infant around the house at 2 a.m.

And where is your darling wife, Alexia, in all this? Nowhere to be found. Well, she’s at work, technically. Which, fine. Someone has to pay the bills, but wasn’t there some kind of brochure about shared responsibility? Maybe she’s left it in her locker, along with her soul. You barely remember what she looks like at this point. You could pass her in the hallway and just nod politely, like she’s the postman.

You’re doing your best. Really, you are. But the situation is like trying to fill a bath with a teaspoon. And maybe you’re filling the bath wrong. Maybe the bath is cursed. You’ve tried everything—rocking, singing, automatic bouncers, and some baby yoga thing that some well-meaning Instagram mum swore by but mostly just made you realise how tight your hamstrings are.

Last night, you were so desperate, you found yourself Googling “Can babies drink Nyquil?” You didn’t actually give it to him, of course, but the fact that you even considered it is telling. Your maternal instincts have been reduced to the level of a sleep-deprived zombie.

You call Alexia. She picks up after the third ring. You can hear the echo of her voice, so you know she’s in one of those soundproof meeting rooms, which would be useful for something other than work right now, like, say, your mental breakdown.

“How’s it going?” she asks, with a tone that implies she has absolutely no idea how it’s going.

“Oh, fine,” you say, with the kind of deadpan delivery that would get a standing ovation on a late-night comedy show. “The baby’s great. He’s taken up wailing as a full-time job. He’s really passionate about it, you know? Very dedicated. I think he’s trying to set a record”

You hear her exhale softly. “I’m sorry, bebè. It’s just i'm in the middle of some media stuff—”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “By all means, finish giving your opinions on that new stadium or whatever. I’m sure our baby will appreciate it when he’s, I don’t know, 18 and actually sleeping. Maybe he’ll get a job there. Or just stand outside and scream, since that seems to be his true calling”

There’s a pause on the other end. Not a comfortable pause. The kind of pause that suggests she’s realising you might not be entirely okay. The baby shrieks louder, and you realise you’re bouncing him up and down like he’s a basketball and you’re trying to make a buzzer-beater shot.

“I’ll be home soon,” Alexia says finally, her voice softer.

“Define ‘soon,’” you counter, adjusting your grip on the baby before he launches himself out of your arms and catapults into a new dimension where babies don’t need sleep. “Is it ‘soon’ like in 20 minutes, or ‘soon’ like in three hours when I’ve lost the will to live?”

Another pause, this one even worse. You’re pretty sure you can hear her wincing through the phone.

“An hour?” she offers weakly, and you let out a laugh that’s halfway between genuine and maniacal.

“Perfect,” you say. “I’ll just go cry in the airing cupboard until then. The baby and I have matching dark circles under our eyes now, so that’s fun. Maybe we’ll start a band”

You hang up before she can respond, not trusting yourself to say anything else. You’re exhausted, stretched thin, and the fact that your wife isn’t here to witness the madness is only making things worse. You know she’s working hard, that she’s doing her best, but in this moment, it feels like you’re on a sinking ship and she’s on shore, waving at you from a distance.

An hour later, when she finally walks through the door, you’re sitting in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by a sea of baby toys, burp cloths, and what you think might be some sort of baby vomit, though at this point, who really knows?

You look up at her, and she looks back at you, and there’s a brief moment where you’re pretty sure she’s about to turn around and walk right back out the door.

Instead, she says, “I brought wine”

You blink at her, then at the bottle of wine in her hand. It’s a good bottle, too. The kind you used to drink before you had a baby and your definition of “good wine” became “whatever has the highest alcohol content and is closest to the till”

“Great,” you say, pushing yourself up off the floor with a grunt. “Let’s get the baby drunk”

She gives you a tired smile, but you can see the worry behind it. “Cariño…”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, holding up a hand. “It’s totally fine. I’m just saying, if we give him some wine, maybe he’ll sleep. Or at least pass out for a little bit. We can all get some rest. Or die. Either one sounds good at this point”

She sighs, setting the bottle down on the coffee table and coming over to you. She takes the baby from your arms, and you’re almost tempted to just collapse on the spot. Instead, you let yourself lean against her, just for a moment, just long enough to remember what it feels like to be supported by another human being.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and you can hear the guilt in her voice. “I know this is hard. I’ll try to be here more”

You nod, but you’re too tired to respond with words. Instead, you just rest your head on her shoulder and close your eyes, savouring the brief reprieve from the bedlam.

“Do you think he’s broken?” you mumble after a while. “Like, did we get a defective baby?”

Alexia chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “No, he’s not broken. He’s just…expressive”

“Expressive,” you repeat, nodding slowly. “Right. So we got the model with all the extra emotions. Great”

“Extra emotions,” Alexia echoes, her tone lightening. “Maybe that means he’ll be a really good artist someday”

“Or he’ll just be really good at screaming,” you say, lifting your head to look at her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be on a team, you’ve been doing a lot of solo missions lately”

“I know,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better”

You let out a long breath, feeling the tension between you, and your shoulder, start to ease. “Okay. But if he screams one more time tonight, we’re selling him to the circus”

“Got it,” Alexia says with a smile, and for the first time in days, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not going through this alone.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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manikas-whims · 1 month ago

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hi lovely, first of all i wanna wish u a good day and i hope everything is going good!

i was cooking in the background but got to a block here, and i would like to know ur opinion on this:

lets say sylus (pre - relationship) somehow messes up bad with reader, to the point they distance themselves from onychinus. how do you think he would react and make up? I feel like he would observe from afar and then go ahead try to talk to them, but i have no clue what he would say, whats ur perspective?

tysm for ur work and im so proud to see u grow as a writer ❤️ byebye lovely!

Hiii! I've been wanting to respond to this for so long.. I'm just so tired by the time I'm home these days 😭

And I'm glad you think I've grown a little as a writer 🥺 means so much to me ♡ so sorry it took so long..🙏

As for the ask itself..

If Pre-relationship Sylus messes up,

then you'll definitely distance yourself from him and Onychinus itself because you still don't know him that well. He did abduct you from the auction and held you in captivity in his base. So of course it's quite difficult for you to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And Sylus seems to be the kind of person who doesn't easily takes offense to people judging him based on his line of work. But he'll definitely get mad because you aren't just some random person to him. He'll be disappointed because all it took was one mistake for you to judge him so harshly? Instead of treating him like every other person and giving him a chance?! He'd think you're just like the rest of the people who form an assumption of him based on his appearance itself. To think, he even bothered making an effort..

Thus, there's no communication between the two of you for at least 2–3 days..Not even Mephisto cawing and poking his cute, lil mechanical beak at your window 😞

And this leads to you getting even more angry at Sylus cause LOOK AT THE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN!!! He made a mistake and now doesn't even bother explaining himself!? Doesn't even try to fix this mess!? Yeah..you should've known..he truly is like every other person from N109. It's your fault for being foolish enough to believe he might have any humanity behind those glowing crimson eyes.

But after the passage of those 2–3 days, you finally begin to sort through your thoughts and feelings.

You also start seeing some familiar faces around your apartment. Luke and Keiran do drop a bunch of packages full of clothes, accessories and other luxurious items you could barely afford on your Hunter's paycheck. Nevertheless you reject them all, and even yell at them. “Tell your stupid Boss he can't simply buy my forgiveness!”

There are moments when you just consider forgetting everything and make up but you resist the urge because that would only encourage him. He'll think he can get away with anything if you're so lenient. And so you suffer his absence for the entire week, slowly coming to believe that you weren't important to him at all..

But Sylus is a mature guy despite whatever his reputation suggests. He'll be mad for a while and put off but he'll come to terms with the fact that he made a mistake. And now after giving you ample amount of time and space to sort through your own feelings, he'll finally decide to randomly show up one day at your door, completely shocking you when you answer the door.

Before you can yell at him or push him to leave, he mumbles in a gruff tone. “I’m sorry.”

To say that you are shocked would be an understatement for it's not everyday that the dreaded leader of Onichynus utters an apology to someone. Men like him are used to making people bend their knees and grovel. Used to exacting apologies out of others instead.

You blink several times before asking. “What did you just say? I didn't quite catch it.”

His brow narrows and he scrunches his nose in that way he does whenever met with an obstacle. Sighing, he repeats his words. “I said I'm sorry..for what I did. For giving you a wrong impression and ticking off all the boxes of suspicions in your head. For showing you something that I'm not.” He pockets his hands– a sure sign of awkwardness– and cocks his head to the side. “And I vow to make it up to you.”

Out of nowhere, Mephisto comes flying, perches upon his shoulder and croaks loudly in support of his master.

You try your best to hide the smile threatening to burst upon your face. You'd forgiven him on his first apology itself because one glance at him made you realize how much you'd actually been missing him and his stupidly handsome face.

Still, in an effort to tease him a little, you tilt your head and say. “Hmm..I'll consider forgiving you if you repeat your words once more. On your knees.”

There is a brief pause in which you almost believe he will do it. His expression seems as if he is actually considering it. Then, he scoffs at you and flicks your forehead.

“Don't push your luck, sweetie.”

And you laugh in delight, punching his abdomen lightly. “Fine fine, let's start again.”

You smile and offer him a hand. He looks at it, his crimson eyes roving up to gaze at you, then he accepts your hand, and shakes it. “As you say, sweetie.”

hope you liked this lil piece ♡

» MASTERLIST «

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #love & deepspace sylus #love & deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #qin che

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jasmineoolongtea · 3 months ago

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plastic palm trees ― gojo satoru

caught in a dream, it's not what it seems

contents: gojo satoru x f!reader (exes), from the reader's pov this time, nicknames (sweets), angst, hurt + no comfort, questionable coping mechanism, small moments of happiness/fluff (in the flashbacks/memories), suggestive themes for like one memory, swearing/cursing, insecurities from the reader's side, drinking/alcohol

summary: memories from during and immediately after your relationship with satoru (pt. 2 to deeply still in love)

wc: 4.7k (wow that's a doozy and sorry on my part for any errors you might spot because this is kinda not proofread)

a/n: ahhh ty guys sm for the love on deeply still in love, i was not expecting it to blow up like that but i'm just so happy that you guys also enjoy it as well !!! this is kinda a part 2 but not really since it's mainly flashbacks. there is a part 3/conclusion to this whole mini saga coming soon so watch out for it :000. art by objectgraphy on x (nsfw warning for the full pic)

It plays again in your head like a clip from a movie you've seen way too many times.

It's you and him, just the two of you and no one else, sitting in his stupid beat-up black jeep wrangler that's probably seen too much by this point that's parked in the middle of some random parking lot well past midnight by now.

Satoru always complains that something's broken for the hundredth time whenever he comes to pick you up from your dorm for another one of his late-night rendevous however despite all this complaining, you're always greeted with the sight of the same black car even though you know he has a car collection that's way too extensive for any reasonable university student to have.

You're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times you've asked to just get a new car at this point but he always refuses for some reason that's beyond you.

Nostalgia, he says as he pats the well-worn leather lining of its interior. We've been through a lot, me and this one, he'll add on, talking about the vehicle as a person rather than some inanimate object and then he'll start pouting at you like some sort of petulant child when you stare back at him unconvinced.

There's a part of you that wants to call him a 'sentimental idiot' for stuff like this but actually, habits like this only serve to further endear him to you in some weird twist of fate and you can only muster an affectionate eye roll as a response.

There's no particular reason as to why you and Satoru would drive out and just sit and be together like this. It wasn't even because of this specific parking lot as well since you two would just usually drive around until you found a parking lot that looked empty enough and just park there to bask under the canopy of the night sky above.

It was always so quiet. You liked the quiet.

Before you met Satoru, you thought this quiet was something only you could keep to yourself but he taught you that there was merit to be had in sharing the quiet with someone else. Even if that someone else might make your 'quiet' much louder than what you're typically used to.

"I like it here." You mumble softly in the sleeves of your (his) sweater. It was one of your favourites because it was soft and it smelled like him.

"You like the city?" There's an edge of suspicion in his voice like he can't believe someone could ever like this place coming from someone who's grown up in said city. To be fair, the place had its good, bad and ugly and maybe as a city native, he had become accustomed to more of the bad and ugly rather than the good.

"I mean, it's nicer from where I came from. A lot of places are nicer than the town I'm from." You laugh half-heartedly as you lean against the cold glass of the window.

Satoru goes quiet for a moment. You don't talk about your hometown that much and for good reason, in your opinion. University was one of your few chances to get out of there and you took that chance without so much of a look back or regret in your mind.

It's nice, cosy even, if you ignore the slight tingling sensation crawling up your legs when you sit in the way you like to sit for too long or the fact that you're both hanging out in an abandoned parking lot in the dead of night. Whatever this is, you think you wouldn't change it for the world if you were given the choice.

Too bad, your getaway couldn't last forever.

The words are weighing heavy on your tongue, just there on the tip as if they're ready to jump off any second but you tighten your lips in a frail attempt to stop them from spilling out. You know the words you're going to have to say will change the way that things are, no matter how much you want things to stay like this.

Satoru leans his head against the car window next to him, hitting the glass with a soft bonk that you're sure hurts but of course, he doesn't react to the collision. Instead, his attention is focused on staring at you, angling his body in a way so that he can get a better look at you, with that classic dopey smirk of his plastered on his face as he does.

A part of you hates him for being able to look so good even in the broken glow of the overhead parking lot lights that would have made anyone else look sickly under its cracked yellow hue.

Not him though, never him. He looks like an angel, you think to yourself, with the way the wisps of white hair splayed out around him illuminate into something that resembles a halo which further elevates his already ethereal features into something otherwordly.

"Shame, it can't last though." You murmur quietly to yourself, moreso of in the vein of thinking out loud rather than starting a conversation. Unfortunately for you, it seems he's heard you.

"What do you mean?" He asks, sitting a little bit straighter in the driver's seat as he looks on inquisitively.

You avoid looking back at him because you know if you could see his expression, it would only make saying goodbye harder. "I can't stay, Toru." You tell him as you gaze into the black nothingness of the night sky from inside the car. "I'll have to move back after graduation."

"What? Why?"

"The rent is crazy expensive here. The only reason I can stay here for uni is because of the student pricing and now that we're graduating, there's no way I can afford to find a place in time." You gnaw nervously at the bottom of your lip as you speak, a bad habit, you know, but it's just something you can't really kick.

You don't want it to end like this, who would? You don't want to say goodbye to the city, to your life, to him. You've had your first taste of true independence and it's being taken away from you because of stupid expensive rent prices, of all things.

A very anti-climatic way to go out if anyone were to ask you.

The car is dead silent for a few minutes. You're scared for whatever his reaction is going to be. He's going to break up with you, isn't he? You think to yourself and you hate the fact that your mind instantly jumps to the worst option but you can already feel a pit start forming at the bottom of your stomach .

The longer the silence drags the more you're convinced he's going to kick you out of the car or something worse and you can already feel yourself bracing for whatever fallout is coming your way.

"Then move in with me. I have an apartment here, a pretty good apartment if you ask me." He states, shrugging his shoulders casually as if he were simply talking about the weather instead of suggesting something as major as this.

"...What?" You reply, though your words come out more as a question as you try to comprehend what he's just asked.

A beat of silence passes the two of you. You don't move.

"I'm serious. Move in with me." You scan his face for any of the typical telltale signs that he might be pulling a prank on you and you find his face scarily devoid of any of them.

Oh, he's dead serious, you think to yourself, with the way he's looking expectantly at you.

"Satoru, do you understand what you're asking?" You ask, still in a state of disbelief at his offer.

He makes a face at you like the answer to your question is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Obviously, if I didn't why would I ask you." He remarks as he raises an eyebrow at you and before you can open your mouth to retort back, he brings a finger up to your lips to silence you. "And, it's not that strange of a request considering the fact that you're my girlfriend. Don't people in a relationship usually move in together like isn't that some big relationship milestone that they look forward to?"

"I-I mean it is but still."

"Okay, then what's the problem."

"I don't know." You sigh, mulling over his proposition in your head for a bit before turning back to him.

"Just promise me this, Toru. Promise me you won't get sick of me?" You ask him as you reach out your pinky towards him.

A pinky promise. It's childish you know but Satoru knows how much small things like this mean to you.

He reaches his hand out to you and interlocks his pinky with you but before you can pull away, he laces his other fingers with yours and brings your hands up to his lips for a soft kiss. The tips of your ears burn red at the way his lips brush your skin.

"Sweets, I could never get sick of you. Actually, I don't think I could ever get over you as long as I lived."

"You better hope that's true or I'm gonna make you eat your words." You grin cheekily at him, a smile which he reciprocates tenfold before basically pouncing over the console to wrap his arms around you. A squeal escapes you as you burst out into a fit of giggles as he peppers your face with feather-light kisses all whilst fighting off your weak attempts at pushing him off.

His arms rest against the plush leather of the passenger seat, trapping you against him, as his flurry of kisses dies down. He stops for a second, admiring the sight of you so close to him and a part of you wants to shrink from the intensity of his gaze. Unfortunately with the way that his arms are caging you in, there's nowhere to hide and you're left at his mercy.

Satoru leans closer, barely inches away from your face as he hovers right above your lips. "Oh yeah? Well, you're gonna be waiting for a long time because that's never gonna happen." His lips find their place against yours, melting into you like they were made for you and you think to yourself that this must be what home feels like.

Another memory of a happier time flashes through after that.

This time, you're lost in between the bedsheets with him, bare skin on skin as the two of you whisper sweet nothings to each other like lovers do in the dead of night when there's no one watching.

"I like it here." He mutters softly. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him like you're his very own lifeline, and his legs are haphazardly intertwined with yours in some mess of limbs that might be able to pass as an abstract art piece if you look at it right from a certain angle.

The blanket is resting dangerously low around his hips and you're wondering how he isn't freezing as you cling onto him as your own personal space heater in the darkness that surrounds the two of you.

It's quiet once again.

"What? Us naked in your bed?" You quip.

"You know that's not what I meant." He groans into your bare shoulder as you giggle softly to yourself, clearly pleased with your well-timed jibe.

"Sorry, I just had to take the opportunity to tease you."

You can't necessarily see him right now but you're sure he's probably lovingly rolling his eyes at you. A sigh escapes his lips and you shiver slightly from the way the blast of hot air hits your skin.

"I like it here when it's just me and you and there's no one else except us in this world." He confesses to you as his fingers begin to explore the expanses of your body as if trying to commit the way you feel under his fingertips into memory.

You bite the corner of your lip as you fight the urge to shrink under his delicate touch.

There's another jest resting on the tip of your tongue but you decide that Satoru's had enough terrorising on your behalf so you say nothing and instead quietly soak up this rare respite from the busyness of everyday life that has been afforded to you two.

"Just us, together, in this bed where we don't need to care about anything else except just that." He adds on, his voice resolute and although you don't say anything out loud, you think you agree with him.

In here, in between these four walls, you two can pretend that the entire world existed within these confines and all the two of you needed to do was to reach out and you had the world at your fingertips. At the end of the day, it was simple and something the two of you could forever return to.

You wished that things could stay simple.

Before you can linger on that moment any longer, it's gone in the blink of an eye as another memory swoops in to take its place.

The door to your shared apartment creeks open and as you crane your head towards the doorway from your spot on the sofa, you're greeted with the sight of a slightly dazed Satoru clumsily entering.

"What's up?" You ask as you shoot up from your place, quickly making your way across the apartment to check up on him as a pang of concern over his current state hits you.

At the sight of you, Satoru is suddenly drawn back into reality as he blinks owlishly for a few seconds as if attempting to reacquaint himself with his surroundings and bring his clearly distracted mind back into reality.

"I just got a call from my family's company. They're giving me the chance to head a new division they want to expand into." He replies as he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his which shows that this offer is clearly weighing heavy on him. You take his hand in yours and give it a comforting squeeze in the way that he would do for you all those times before, a gesture you can tell he greatly appreciates with the way his shoulders sag with relief.

He confesses softly to you. "I don't know if I should do it."

"Why? What's holding you back?" You question, somewhat confused by his hesitation. This is a major offer and you're surprised that he isn't jumping off the walls with excitement but you're sure he must have his reasons.

"I just- The hours are going to be long and well, you know how many family is and the elders are-"

You cut him off sharply, sensing that Satoru was on his way down a lengthy ramble. "I think you should take it." He stares at you, almost slightly bewildered at your apt response. "It'll be good for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure Toru. If you don't take this opportunity, you're going to regret later down the line." You insist, sending a reassuring smile his way. Even if he can't see it now, you're sure that this going to be good for him. For the both of you.

Whatever new hurdles that might come your way from this like Satoru is convinced is going to happen, you have faith that the two of you can make it out relatively unscathed.

It's good to have faith right?

The new question was, how long can your faith carry you?

You're pacing back and forth in your shared apartment for what seems like the millionth time as you anxiously watch the seconds tick down on the clock.

"Hey, Toru. What time do you think you're going to be back?" You're trying to balance the phone between your ear and shoulder as you smooth out a napkin to the best of your ability. It's looking a little wonky, if you're going to be honest and maybe tonight of all nights wasn't really the time to find out if you were good at folding napkins into fancy shapes like they do at the restaurant but you needed tonight to go according to plan.

It had to. Tonight was an important night for both of you.

"Why, what's the occasion?" From the way he's asking, you don't think he's putting on an act of pretending not to know for the surprise. Rather, it's a genuine question on his behalf and somehow, for some reason, that feels even worse than outright disgust.

"Did you forget?" You feel your voice falter ever so slightly, another crack etching its way onto your already fragile heart. "It's our anniversary dinner."

"Shit, I'm so sorry, sweets. It totally slipped my mind with all of these meetings and stuff they're having me do." You hear an exhausted sigh ring out from the other side of the phone in between the cacophony of other voices taking up space in the background. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"...No, It-it's fine. We can just reschedule this stuff for another day." A breathy laugh leaves your lips in a weak attempt to try and convince him that it was truly alright and that it was just something else to brush off.

"...If you say so."

"I'm serious, Satoru. It's fine, I can just reschedule things for another day that's all." Another one to add to the evergrowing pile, a bitter voice barks from within the recesses of your mind.

Much to your chagrin, you're unfortunately becoming much more acquainted with this voice and although you haven't responded to its taunts yet, you can feel your resolve wearing away with each late night you watch the streets below for any sign of life, his life to be specific.

Worst of all, you can't say you regret this, can you? Because if you do, then it would basically be confessing that all of the pain and late nights the both of you have been sacrificing have been all for nought and that you were wrong for pushing the both of you down this path.

It needs to be worth it so that there's a reason for this pain that you're feeling when things like this become an afterthought but you're starting to wonder how many times you have to say it until it becomes real instead of just a pipe dream you had the misfortune of being caught in.

Soon, it seemed that these doubts weren't just one-sided anymore.

"This is good for us, right?" Satoru asks one night as the two of you are getting ready for bed. It's been a while since the two of you have gone to bed at the same time as your clocks fall further and further out of sync the longer you two spend out of each other's embrace. There's a strong hint of uncertainty in his voice like he's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince you. "...You're happy right?"

You don't look at him in the eye. You can't. "Right, yeah. I mean, this is what we want." Your answer isn't as resolute as you hoped that it would come out but you brush past it in the hopes of making sure whatever doubts you may have bubbling underneath your surface remain there.

"You didn't answer my other question."

A nervous laugh escapes you. "What do you mean?"

"Are you happy?" You stop in your tracks for a moment as you process his question.

There were a lot of things you could have said at that time, the truth would have been a good option, but instead, you chose to swallow the difficult choice down and take the easy way out by plastering on a sickly sweet smile and lying to him through your teeth.

"Of course, I'm happy Satoru."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you're greeted with that oh-so-familiar sensation of that pit in the bottom of your stomach as the bitter voice you've tried to suppress makes its infamous return to the forefront of your mind.

Looking back at it now, maybe you should have said the truth, it would have saved you two a lot of pain in retrospect but pride is a funny thing and you're sure that Satoru was in the same position you were in at this point.

That's probably why he didn't push any further after your response, no matter how fake it probably sounded out loud. It's either that or he wanted to believe that you were actually telling the truth.

You're not sure which one is worse.

In another world, you would like to think that there's a point to your mind deciding to subject you to this trip down memory lane aside from dredging up your past pains and regrets to torture you. Maybe, in this other world, you would have a sudden life-changing revelation awaiting you at the end of the road but all you can see just nothing.

It's better this way, right? For the both of you.

You told yourself that when you sat him down and broke up with him in the total sum of a few sentences before leaving because you didn't want to truly say goodbye to him as that would make everything more real and therefore much worse. You told yourself that when you sat in the backseat of your friend's car they came to pick you up for a night out because they insisted that you needed to get out of your head sometimes. You tell yourself this when you stare into the barrel of the gun in the form of the glass of alcohol sitting in front of you.

He deserves better than being lied to on the daily and someone like you holding him back. You can't even remember the last time you actually, truly looked him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. You imagine the old you who loved to get lost in the vast expanses of his cerulean eyes that would gaze at you like you were the one who personally hung the stars in the sky.

Before, if his eyes were the great roaring ocean, you would gladly let yourself get pulled under by the tide even if it meant drowning in its depth. Now, you're scared to even dip your toes in the shoreline when the wave is nothing more than just the remnants of sea foam.

You reach over for another sip, pretending like the burning aftertaste left in its wake doesn't make you want to wince.

Maybe Satoru was onto something with his dislike of alcohol. You've learned that after a few drinks, all liquor, no matter the amount of zeros slapped onto the end of its price tag starts to taste the same by the end of the night.

There's just so much of him everywhere. In the objects, the, hell even the air. You think you might suffocate from the sheer amount of him you're surrounded by. It doesn't matter where you go, all you can see is him.

You needed to get out.

Pushing past the crowd all whilst ignoring the confused calls of your friends to your sudden switch in behaviour, you stumble your way to the bathroom and lock the door behind you as you slump down defeated next to the sink.

Truth be told, his question haunts you more than you would like to admit.

"Are you happy?"

You don't think you are. Maybe you should be, you have everything that would usually qualify for someone to answer that they are happy and you're no longer that struggling student you were a few years ago which is definitely a plus.

You tell other people that you are 'happy' when they ask, with a smile that never reaches your eyes and a grip that's probably too tight on whatever you're holding in your hands at the time but the answer never feels right, no matter how many times you say it out loud and let it roll off your tongue.

Despite what you tell yourself, perhaps the time when you were happy, truly happy, was when you were with him.

Deep down, you think that if you were given the choice between now and then, you would trade all of this for a chance to be those dumb kids sitting and making out in parking lots without a care in the world except for each other again in a heartbeat.

As you study the tiles of the wall opposite you, you think to yourself that it would be nice to stay here in this bathroom, far away from the rest of the world and far away from what feels like all your regrets personified but the logical, reasonable part of you knows that there's no way you could realistically stay here any longer before your friends start worriedly banging on the door.

Slowly, your shoulders deflate with a defeated sigh as you stand up and make your way out of whatever bar you've been dragged to as you bid your friends goodbye in a way that you hope doesn't raise any suspicions.

The air feels bitingly cold as the wind nips at your face while you stand awkwardly on the curb, waiting for a taxi as you go to both the first and last place you want to be at; your apartment. Ironically, in a cruel twist of fate, the total absence of anything relating to Satoru only makes his lack of presence only more pronounced.

If this was the universe's doing, then you had a few choice words for them to say the least.

You wrap your arms around yourself in a vain attempt to maintain some semblance of body heat as you quickly flag down the nearest car and clamber in. When you arrive back, you glance at the clock and you have to fight the urge to let out a laugh when you see that it's barely even past 10pm and you're already back at home.

Pathetic, the bitter voice in your head spits out.

You do what you do best and ignore it as you collapse into the embrace of your bed and try your bed to lull yourself to whatever empty dreamscape awaits you this time if only to get a moment away from your current reality. It doesn't last long though because you're awoken by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Should have silenced it, you curse yourself silently as you blindly reach for it. Once it's in your hands, you squint as the blinding brightness of the screen and a flicker of recognition flashes through you as you realise who's actually calling you and for some reason, against your better judgment, you pick up.

When you hang up, you don't go back to sleep. Rather, you're unable to go back to sleep as you're left staring blankly at the ceiling above you. The bed feels too big for one person and you find yourself missing the nights where you could go to sleep alone and wake up in the arms of another.

Much like when you're forced to watch a replay of all your memories, you're wondering if what you said was right. If you were to go by what you've been telling yourself since the breakup, then sure, you did the right thing. But if it is truly the right thing, then it doesn't explain this inexplicable emptiness gnawing deep within your chest or this aching feeling that sits in a place you can't quite reach but are all too aware of.

The longer you let your mind run through all the possibilities you can think of, the more often you find yourself coming back to the same conclusion. It's better this way, be damned, you think to yourself and with that, you make up your mind to set off on a mission.

Out of all of the places you could have found yourself at, this is definitely quite down low on the list and maybe this is what you deserve for trusting your feet instead of your head but you decide that at this point, you don't have much else to lose and so, you gather up the courage to say the words that you've been waiting to say for a while.

"Hi."

#‧₊˚ ⋅ 🍵 writes #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk angst #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic

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meanbossart · 6 months ago

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Ask compilation: I'm Starting To Think That This Drow Guy Is Kind Of An Asshole Edition.

Probably a Ranger in the hunter subclass. I actually intended to multi-class him as fighter/ranger at some point and make that his official class, but I haven't had time/quite figured out the best build that would still suit him - Ranger makes a LOT of sense with his backstory, arguably more than fighter, but he's still supposed to be a magic-less brick-house with 19 strength who hasn't handled a bow and arrow in 10 years, so I'm not sure where that leaves us LOL

A lot of people have suggested that Berserk Barbarian would fit him well, but I think that implies a lot of other characteristics that do NOT suit him at all so 🤷

HE DIDN'T EVEN GO TO THE CRECHE, and honestly it made the game feel much more immersive to pick one path and stick to it like Halsin suggested, even if I did have to endure the shadow cursed lands without the shiny mace 😂

Probably for the best, it'd be a real shame if the story ended there just because he didn't like Vlaakith's attitude.

But yeah Lae'zel (who, for the record, I adore) never stood a chance in his playthrough. Sorry baby girl.

I'm either uninformed or we have different definitions of what constitutes a crush, but sure I'll play in this space LOL

He's both jealous but also kind of aloof when it comes to things like that. It's yet another symptom of his arrogance, where it seems unfathomable that anyone who has him would be genuinely tempted by someone else. He doesn't mind a normal amount of glance-stealing and flattery, even playful flirting to a degree, but if there's persistence or if his partner seems to seek another person out for things he thinks he should be providing, he feels threatened.

Also, he has a difficult time discerning that "deep emotional connection" does not equal "romantic interest". So, at least immediately after the events of the game, he's more likely to be made insecure by his partners forming deep bonds with others than any throwaway expression of physical desire or fleeting infatuation.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Let me preface this with the (hopefully unnecessary) disclaimer that this murderous dark-elf's opinions are not my own, and that I very much purposefully made a bit of an asshole character because I find that entertaining.

And now that you're hopefully primed for what's coming - DU drow is pretty damn judgemental of people's looks save for the rare times when they give him a good impression right off the bat. He notes people's appearances and makes preemptive assumptions about them without even realizing it. He definitely does not equal beauty to value or prowess (in fact he will very much still mock of you if you seem too concerned with your appearance) but he does prescribe things based on looks.

I don't think he'd take issue with what you're describing, It sounds like a pretty average body, but he would assume that person is weaker and less fit to "keep up with him", basically. Which kind of diminishes interest.

As far as to what he finds immediately attractive, he definitely prefers people who seem physically fit (not more than himself though - gods forbid). But, the caveat to this whole tangent is that once you get past initial impressions, he could definitely come to be sexually attracted to pretty much any type of body attached to the person he's in love with.

Thank you! There was no main event, just the building up of resentment over time and the opportunity she saw opening up when the Chosen's plan came into motion. She definitely didn't always hate him though, they had a fairly close relationship until his obsessive behavior and arrogance became an issue.

Thank you!!!

They call him the/that drow, dark elf, or "big drow" if there's more than one present. In private they might facetiously call him Bhaalspawn if they get tired of referring to him by race.

I'll be honest, I forgot whether or not I found it in his playthrough LOL but if he did stumble across that would be VERY funny. He'd be like "look at these idiots and their fake murder god. What kind of dimwit would worship carnage as a religion. Hey Shadowheart get a load of this-"

HAPPY YOU ENJOY HIM! I think his unique situation overall with having been such a overwhelmingly horrid person and forgetting all about it is my favorite bit. That's kind of vague, I know, but I often think of dreams I've had where I committed a crime or did something horrible, and that immediate feeling of relief and disconnect that follows immediately after waking up. That's kind of what I imagine it's like for him - he knows of the things he did, but he doesn't really. In theory it's all true but that's a truth far too fantastical for anyone to conceptualize even if it's put right in front of your face.

That, tackling the guilt (or lack thereof) of something you genuinely don't feel like you've done and the intricacies of it, that's a fascinating state of mind to explore. I love how many directions you can take that.

For me, having a character who is not good, but is not necessarily pure unadulterated evil, makes for a lot of complex thought experiments and contradictory values. DU drow has a lot of those - things he believes and abides by absolutely except for this specific instance, being contradictory is a pillar of his character and it can be a little challenging to keep up with it - but I'd be lying if I said I don't deeply enjoy that aspect as well all the same.

THANK YOUUUU It took me so long to figure out how to draw Astarion in a way I liked, I'm so relieved that others enjoy it too 😂

Shockingly he did succeed it and was immediately put-off by it, lmao. They wouldn't really develop much of a relationship for a while after that, so at that point DU drow just figured he was trying to get something from him and wrote him off, much as he did with everyone else with the exception of Shadowheart.

He didn't meet her at the Tiefling grove! I didn't even know you could meet her before-hand for the longest time. But he did super, duper kill her at camp of course.

He managed to hide the body and everyone else was none the wiser, huge blood bhaal-sigil on the ground aside lmao. He was a little shocked but didn't feel all that bad about it, kind of resigning to that primal feeling of satisfaction at a job-well-done that overwhelmed him instead. He decided she was too weak to survive out there and he had just spared her the trouble.

#ask compilation #du drow lore

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courtingchaos · 1 year ago

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Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem Reader #My Work #My Fic #asks!#THIS BITCH IS 6K????? since fuckin when 😩

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craziechwiv · 6 months ago

Text

Who's scarier, Ren or Nora?

Yang: It's gotta be Nora Rubes.

Ruby: Nuh, uh! It's Ren, silent but deadly trope?

Yang: That's a biased opinion and you know it!

Ruby: Just because we have one of those on our team doesn't mean it's biased! It's common knowledge!

Yang: Oh my- wait is that Jaune? Let's go ask him.

Ruby: Yea, then you'll see how wrong you are!

Yang: Keep dreaming lil sis.

Jaune is walking until he is suddenly pushed against a wall and pinned, he was gonna shake his aggressors off him till he realizes who they were.

Jaune: Uhm...whatever I did was probably a dare!

Ruby: Not what we're here for Jaune, we need to settle something and you're our prime source for the answer!

Jaune, looking at Yang: That would be...?

Yang: Who's more scarier, Ren or Nora?

Jaune: Oh, well let me go first.

Yang and Ruby let go of Jaune as he stretches out his limbs before leaning back on the wall.

Jaune: Okay, to answer this I need something more than who's scarier. Give me a scenario.

Yang: When we're on missions! Have you seen Nora mess up those Grimms last time? I'm pretty sure some we're running away from her actually.

Ruby: So? Ren is also quite lethal too! One minute he's firing precise shots at them and the next he's cutting them up like sushi!

Jaune: Well, I have to side with Yang here. Nora is more gruesome than Ren there.

Yang: HA!

Ruby: Aw...

Jaune: However...Ren is still more scary in general.

Yang: What?! How?

Ruby: :O

Jaune: Only for one incident...

Yang: And what might that be?

Ruby: Yeah tell us!

Jaune: Well...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nora is skipping along the hallways of beacon before being stopped by someone

Random student: Hey you're Nora, right? Fancy work you did with that weapon of yours!

Nora: Oh, thanks! You're too kind.

R.S.: Say, how's about we hang out from time to time? I'd like to spar with you.

Nora: Oh no thanks, I already have a sparring partner and I'm on the track to meet him actually-

The random student then grabs Nora's hand by surprise.

R.S.: Well, how about we go to my dorm then~?

Nora: Wait- what?! I don't really, uh...

R.S.: Aw cmon, we'll have lots of- *thunk, thunk*

The random student feels something metallic behind his head and freezes in place, not wanting to turn around and see what it may be.

Ren: She said, she doesn't want to.

Nora: Renny?

R.S.: Easy bro...it was just a suggestion.

Ren: Then me disposing of your life is an answer.

R.S.: You- You won't get away with this!

Ren: I can if you can't recognize me.

R.S.: Why you...

The random student tries to take a swing at Ren, only swinging at air before he feels a sharp object on the back of his neck, barely pricking its way through his skin layer.

Ren: When I count to ten, you'll run. 1...

The random student was already running down the hallways, not looking back at all. Ren then turns towards Nora.

Ren: Uhm...sorry about that?

Nora, who's flustered and looking at Ren in a whole new light: D-Don't worry about it Renny...how about we skip training actually?

Ren: Are you sure?

Nora: I'd let pancakes burn in a fire right now just to be in a bed with you right now!

Ren: O-Oh....okay, lead the- WOAH!

Ren is picked up by the muscle shortie and carried all the way to their dorm room, leaving a bewildered Jaune Arc who was watching the whole scenario from the corner.

Jaune...what the fu-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yang:

Ruby:

Jaune: So yeah. Ren is way scarier...when it comes to Nora. Which is a lot.

Yang: That was...not what I was expecting...

Ruby: That is...super hot~.

Yang: RUBY! That is the last time you read one of Blake's book.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #lie ren #nora valkyrie #renora #jealous lie ren #protective lie ren

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whispering-ways · 1 year ago

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Hello! I was wondering if you could make a Dom!Gyomei x Fem!Hashira!reader smut?

๑✧♡ heart to heart ♡✧๑

✧ summary: you are a recent hashira who's been assigned on a mission with gyomei

✧ pairing: gyomei himejima x f!reader

✧tags: cursing, fingering (f! receiving), nicknames like baby, sweetheart and daddy

✧ notes: i'm sorry for the delay in fics, but I'm working through all my tasks rn! i've been applying to grad school so i haven't had much time to write •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀ but now that's done with, I can start pumping out some more fics ♡ i might write a part two to this with more smut if people like it but idk

You just finished training and were about to gather your things to relax when you felt a large hand on your shoulder. “Hey there! I couldn't help but notice your impressive training session! As a newcomer, you were quite remarkable! But next time, I feel you should improve your stance and work on....”

“Ugh, there he goes again,” you think, listening to Gyomei list out some improvements you could make to be a better Hashira. You tuned his words out and tried your best not to get irritated, but you couldn’t help it. He was always correcting your technique and giving you advice when you didn’t even ask for it.

You understood that it was probably because you had just recently become a Hashira, but his comments were unneeded in your book. You couldn’t place all the blame on him though; it was Kagaya after all that told his right-hand Hashira to take care of you and ‘help you feel welcome’. Nevertheless, it still pissed you off. It’s not like you didn’t know you needed improvement. It was just him saying it that annoyed you.

You knew you probably should keep an open mind before judging Gyomei. It’s not like he was a bad person; he was a kind and nice person, but something about his holier-than-thou attitude just made all his ‘observations’ come across as patronizing to you. I mean, you never asked for his opinion to begin with. If you needed someone’s opinion, you would just ask Kagaya. You rolled your eyes, wondering when Gyomei would just leave you alone.

“Ah, I regret that I failed to mention it earlier, but Kagaya-sama has entrusted us with a mission. I was initially supposed to undertake it solo, but he believes having both of us together would be advantageous. It seems he has faith in your abilities, but he also believes having me by your side for your first mission could aid in your personal growth,” he said with a hint of a smile. That was new; he never smiled.

“Weird, but you know what, good for him. It wouldn’t hurt to smile once in a fucking while. Crying all the time has got to be making his eyes hurt. But there he goes being patronizing again. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gyomei was the one who really suggested it to Kagaya rather than the other way around.

Regardless, you nodded your head and asked some more details about the mission. He let you know that you both had to set out on your journey at 6 a.m. sharp tomorrow. So you gave him another nod of understanding, hoping that’d indicate you wanted to be left alone. Thankfully he got the message and shortly after walked away, leaving you to spend the rest of the day getting the relaxation you knew you deserved.

You woke up early the next day to pack a bit for the 2 day trip ahead of you. After gathering a few things and putting them into a bag, you headed out to meet Gyomei. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to find him. As you opened your door to see him standing right outside your door. “Jesus, you scared me. Couldn’t you at least knock or something?,” you asked, already annoyed with him.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to do that next time we go on a mission.”

It was almost cute that he thought you’d want to do another mission with him. You would rather eat a bag of nails for breakfast instead; the only reason you were going on this mission was because you didn’t want to be rude to Kagaya.

You close your door behind you and let out an exasperated sigh, readying yourself for the journey. “Okay, as long as you’re ready, let’s get going then.” Gyomei grabbed a small bag behind him, threw it above his shoulder and said, “That’s the spirit! Starting early is always the best!”

After about 30 minutes of walking, you’d both finally reached the grassy mountain you needed to trek to get to your final destination. You weren’t gonna lie, just the thought of trekking it made you tired, but you needed the mission experience, so you trudged forward.

It didn’t help that Gyomei was so far ahead; it was like he was rubbing in your face how much better he was than you. He stopped for a second to look around, which gave you just enough time to catch up with him. “Can’t you slow down? Your pace is like a giant’s, there’s no fucking way I can keep up,” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to slow down a bit! Please forgive me!” he said, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s fine, just...let’s get going,” you replied, continuing to walk along the path. You regretted asking him to slow down a couple of minutes later when he tried making small talk by asking millions of questions. If walking way off from you was irritating, then this was just pure hell.

You’re sure he can tell how pissed you are; your tight-lipped smile showed nothing but disdain for all his questions. But he just kept on talking anyway. A few minutes later and after trying to ignore him, you give up and decide to succumb to some small talk. You talked to him for a little bit about the mission, but that didn’t last too long as you noticed a slight drizzle start to cover the mountain.

The two of you started closer to the trees near you, hoping that their large spanning branches would keep you both somewhat dry. All chances of that happening left once the light drizzle turned into a heavy pour. There was no way that you both could continue your journey without getting hurt since the earth beneath you had become absolutely slick with water.

You two decided to wait out the rain and find shelter to keep you both dry for the time being. After what seemed like forever, you finally spot a broken-down house in your periphery and quickly get Gyomei’s attention, dying to get out of the rain as soon as possible.

��Look, there’s a house or something over there,” you say pointing at the building. “Let’s head there and hope the family is hospitable enough to let us stay there for a bit till the sky clears up.” You start walking in the direction of the house without even waiting for a reply from Gyomei, who starts wordlessly walking behind you.

As you get closer to the house, you notice how delipidated it really is. It seemed that no one had lived there in years. Almost all the windows were either cracked or completely broken; dust and cobwebs were littered in each corner of the house.

“Well it’s not a palace but at least it’ll keep us out of the rain,” you said, wiping off some dirt so you could finally sit down. You stretched your legs, sighing in relief, glad to finally catch a break.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the peaceful sound of the rain. The peace didn’t last too long as you heard some rustling noises behind you. You turn around to see Gyomei pull out a sleeping bag from his backpack along with a lantern.

“I think that the rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon, so I’m setting up for the night. I think the best decision is to sleep here tonight and start on our journey tomorrow,” he explains, sitting on his bed. “If you’d like, I can set up your bed as well.”

“It's fine, I didn’t even bring a bed anyway. If we have to sleep here tonight, I’ll just sleep on the floor,” you say, turning around. “Besides, it’ll work out the kinks in my back.”

“Nonsense, I insist you take the sleeping bag then!” Gyomei retorted.

“No I’m fine, you use your bed; you’re the one that brought it. I’ll be fine.”

“If you insist,” he says, continuing to set up. He pulled out some supplies from his bag to light the lantern and in a few moments, the whole house was filled with golden light, making the space as comfy as it could be.

But unfortunately, not even the warmth the lantern brought helped to make the house any less cold. The rain kept pouring and with it came a frigid breeze that swept through all corners of the house.

You tried to keep it discreet but there was no hiding the chattering of your teeth. Gyomei soon picked up on it too. At first, he did his best not to comment; after all, it did seem like you wanted your own space. But his worry for you took over and he yet again asked “Hey, are you sure you don’t want the bed?”

“Ugh..I told you I’m fine. It’s your bed, use your bed,” you replied back, annoyed he kept pressing the issue.

“Are you really fine? I can hear your shivers from here. I know it’s cold and the bed is quite spacious anyway so it wouldn’t be too much trouble at all,” Gyomei said scooting over to offer a spot on the sleeping bag. You couldn’t lie, you were pretty cold so you gave in and agreed to share the bag. You stood up and sat down next to him, leaving ample space between you two.

A few moments pass by with nothing but the sound of rain to fill in the awkward silence between you two. This was soon broken though when Gyomei said “So...what do you think about being a Hashira?

“Jesus fucking Christ, why’d he have to say something,” you thought, internally cringing at the fact that you now had to make small talk. “Uhh..well I guess it's um... good I guess. I don’t really know what to say,” you reply as you look towards the ground and lantern, anywhere besides Gyomei’s face.

“Ah, that’s wonderful! I’m glad you’re having a good start! I hope you like the other Hashira, they are like family to me,” he says, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, cool. That’s always...uhh...real nice I guess,” you say, trying to remain as cold as possible. Your plan was to get him off your back and to leave you alone, but as time passed on, it didn’t seem like you were ever going to shake him off as he told you many stories of the other Hashira.

“I know we must be together for our line of work, but I truly consider all the Hashira my close friends. Or well, at least most of them I think...” he said, trailing off. You couldn’t help but be intrigued at the end of his sentence.

Now you were never one to gossip, but you were definitely a sucker for a bit of tea, and his phrasing definitely showed signs of a bit of tea. I mean Gyomei? Having beef with someone? Unheard of.

“Oh come on, you can’t just drop a statement like that without spilling the tea...” You press,, not prepared to give up. “No details, no good tea.”

You could see Gyomei squirming around a bit, debating whether he should explain or not. After a little bit, he sighs and looks at you, as if preparing himself.

“Okay...it’s just, you, we don’t have that strong of a relationship. I feel like you just don’t like me for some reason and however I look at it, I can’t seem to figure out what I did.”

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” you thought. You didn’t want to get into this conversation now, not ever really. But you couldn’t just leave him hanging like that. You buried your face in your hands, letting out a long sigh. “It’s not that I don’t like you. I don’t have problems with you.”

“Then what is it because there must’ve been something I did. Everything we talk you just seem tired and annoyed,” Gyomei said.

“Look, I don't hate you, but sometimes it feels like I'm just an inferior version of you. Like, when you're so good at what you do, it's hard to feel like we're on the same level. And sometimes, these little comments you throw at me, even if you don't mean them in a bad way, make me feel like I'm not good enough for us to be equals.

I mean, you're like a prodigy with so much experience. It's hard not to feel like I'm always lagging behind you, you know?" You were doing your best to explain how you felt, but just hearing yourself made it obvious to you that your disdain was immature.

“For me, you’ve always been my equal. You’ve got a solid foundation of abilities and experience that match up with my own. However, things felt pushed too fast for me; I never got the chance to properly settle into being a Hashira. I’m doing my best to get a hang of this new position, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel like I’m falling short of everyone. So I guess in that sense, I really am not your equal,” Gyomei says, looking down to the floor.

There's a quiet gap between you two before you say, "...Yeah, I guess I judged you pretty quickly. I should've been more open to what you had to say, but I wanted to be a perfect Hashira, you know? Taking criticism is just a little hard for me, but I'll work on that in the future." You feel somewhat foolish after talking about how you felt; none of this coldness was really necessary to begin with - your dislike towards Gyomei felt almost useless.

"I apologize if my criticisms appeared more judgmental than I intended. However, in my opinion, you're already perfect like a diamond; you're a Hashira for a reason. Still, all diamonds require a bit of polishing, and that's all I was aiming for - to help you shine with some advice and techniques," he said cheerfully.

You have to admit, that comparison of his got you a little flustered. Yet, its sweetness gave you a lot of comfort. "Let's put this aside and be friends, alright? Let's start all over, and I'm sorry for not giving you a chance earlier," you say with a smile, shocked that you're actually having a conversation with Gyomei like this.

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s nice to see such a beautiful smile on you for the first time.” You look up at him, eyes wider than saucers. “Not that you aren’t pretty all the time...I mean..but you know that.” Gyomei said, red from head to toe.

You chuckle at Gyomei's flustered state, finding it endearing to see the big strong man reduced to a blushing mess. He's truly a sight to behold. "If I said you were a sight for sore eyes, I'd be selling you short," you comment in turn.

Out of nowhere, a gust of cold air hits your body, sending tingles down your spine. "Would you...uhh...like to come a little closer?" Gyomei proposes. "I noticed you shiver and I run pretty warm. I wouldn't mind a platonic cuddle to stay warm, if you're alright with that."

You never thought making up with him would mean that you’d be flirting with him, but you couldn’t complain. I mean he was hot and you wouldn’t mind messing around with him a little bit.

So you scooch a bit closer to him, your arms barely grazing his. He was right, he definitely was warm; you could feel the heat radiating off of him. But that still wasn’t enough to warm you up.

You're somewhat confused when you hear Gyomei laugh. He adjusts his position and spreads his legs apart, as if offering you a spot to sit. "Come, sit a little closer, there's no way you're feeling warm there," he says, patting the area between his legs.

Taken by surprise by his forwardness, you nonetheless place yourself between him, your legs resting against his. It's a little awkward between you, but you aren't one to back down from a challenge, and he IS rather warm.

You’d never really noticed the size difference between you two, but you definitely did now. His muscled thighs surrounds you, practically pressing your own togtether. He stretches back behind you to give you some space. You sit for a little bit and you both kind of sink into the feeling of being so close to him.

Gyomei looks down to you and asks, "Can I help keep you a little warmer?" Hesitant, you nod in agreement - but deep down, you can feel your cheeks get hot just by looking at him. This sudden rush feels like it's moving far too fast for anything meaningful to come out of it, but something about it just feels right.

He suddenly lifts you up and sits down in a cross-legged position, placing you right into his lap. The ease with which he picks you up surprises you, but you're not thinking about warmth at all now.

“How are you feeling now? Warmer?” Gyomei says.

"Yes, this...it feels pretty nice," you answer, leaning your back against his chest. At first, the touch of his hand on your thigh is nice - but once you've settled, it becomes almost...teasing. The warmth is nice, yeah, but enough teasing already, so you decide to make your own move.

You get up from his lap, leaving Gyomei worried he pushed too far. But that feeling dissipated once you sat back on his lap, now facing him with your legs wrapped around him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes to see him absolutely flustered. He puts his hands on your back bringing you closer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me Gyomei.”

He pulls back, a little shocked, but it doesn’t take him long to reply “Hmm... perhaps I am.”

“Oh yeah?”

The sexual tension is practically tangible, but you neither speak nor move as you gaze at his lips. Only your eyes speak; he understands and moves in for a passionate kiss.

The unexpected roughness is a surprise, but a welcome one, as you melt into his embrace and grasp for a hold on his neck, drawing him closer to you, your body flush against his. One hand reaches for his chest, using his necklace to pull him as close as he can be - his hands on your waist, just barely touching your hips.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue running along his own bottom lip, requesting entrance into your mouth. Once you opened your mouth, his tongue enters once more, and the sensation sent a wave of chills down your spine.

You slip your arms around his neck to pull him in closer, your body pressed against his as your skin ignites with a flame of excitement. He pulls you back slightly, exposing your neck to him, before diving in once more to to suck on your neck. You whine out under his touch, squirming with delight beneath him.

He bites down hard, leaving a hickey in his wake. He takes a moment to proudly admire it, only to pull you into his arms, leaving you mildly confused. He suddenly lifted you and placed you against the wall, his arms slamming at either side of you as he began to kiss you again.

Gyomei's hand slides down your side, coming to rest on the back of your knee. He uses his other hand to grab you firmly by your back and pull you in closer. You instinctively wrap your leg around his back, holding on tight now.

His hand departs from its prior position, as he casually caresses your inner thigh, his fingers brushing against your slit. He was taken aback to find that there were panties instead of the anticipated pair of shorts, but hey he wasn’t complaining. His fingers began to play with the edges of your panties, twirling them between his digits.

He eventually pauses and asks, "Are you okay if I go further?" as he begins to tease your slit with his fingers.

You nod wordlessly and he continues to kiss you. Your body trembles in anticipation as Gyomei's tender lips lightly graze yours. He pulls you close, and with a swift gesture, he removes your panties and tosses them to the side. The touch of his fingers sends electric shocks throughout your body.

Your body quivers with anticipation, your heart beating erratically as his lips trail down toward yours. He removes your panties with a swift motion, discarding them carelessly to the side. His skilled fingers lightly tease your clit, eliciting a muffled moan.

His middle finger circles your entrance, before plunging in with no warning. His finger was bigger and thicker than anything you’d ever felt before, so when he added another finger, it nearly overwhelmed you with pleasure.

You feel like your knees are about to give out, but your body can't help but squirm. Gyomei looks at you with a passionate glare. In a frustrated tone, he asks, "Sweetheart, you're gonna have to stop squirming around like that, how am I gonna make you feel good if you do?"

“I’ll do my best...not to~,” you moan out as he continues to relentlessy pound his fingers into your pussy.

“If you want more pleasure, you gotta call me daddy princess.”

"I...I promise not to squirm then daddy," you whine as you try to maintain a firm grip on your promise. However, despite your desperate efforts, you end up squirming more as you near climax.

Gyomei suddenly stops and states, "You're still squirming baby. You can't disobey your promise to daddy. But don't you worry, I have the perfect solution for this."

Gyomei's arm effortlessly slides towards the back of your knees and he slings you over his shoulder, leaving you in a state of shock. You start smacking his back, in hopes that he’d put you down.

Yet, instead of providing an explanation, Gyomei simply laughs. "I love how feisty you are," he comments, smacking your ass and leaving a glowing red handprint in its wake.

"Just you wait, baby. I'm gonna make you feel so good," he states, a playful gleam in his eyes. You stare up at him with anticipation, excited for what he was going to do next. Little did you know what the night had in store for you.

#demon slayer #gyomei himejima #kny gyomei #gyomei x reader #demon slayer gyomei #kimetsu gyomei #kny x reader #kny fanfic #himejima x reader #kny himejima #demon slayer smut #gyomei smut #kny smut #himejima smut #gyomei himejima smut #demon slayer gyomei himejima #kny smut fanfic #demon slayer fanfic

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weepingwillowwonder · 3 months ago

Note

(same person who asked for the the angel dust x transmasc reader nsfw headconnons)

ahh, so sorry i didn’t see it TwT

but i am here to annoy you again with the same question >:)

if ur taking requests, can you do some angel dust x transmasc reader nsfw headconnons??if u don’t de hcs/ don’t feel comfortable with it, no pressure at all!

Hi again~ Honestly that's MY BAD! I probably should have posted some sort of rules like a whileee ago. But I'm happy you requested it again!! (Yippeee!) Side Note: Similarly to another recent request I had - In complete honesty, I still don't have a good understanding of what Transmasc means, so I for the NSFW part I kinda stuck to more of a GN approach. (I would rather it be a little less detailed than to get it wrong and to possibly offend anyone/make someone upset...)

[NSFW Under the Cut, MDNI 18+ ONLY]

Angel Dust x Transmasc!Reader

▪︎ While his profession normally has him in a more submissive position, Angel is versatile with his partner and leans heavily on following their lead (in other words, he's is a switch).

▪︎ If you let him take the lead, however, I can see him choosing to be in a more dominant role to allow him to be in control in a space where he normally isn’t.

▪︎ Angel’s has a variety of experiences from his time working in the porn industry and so I could see him wanting to explore with his partner as well, if they were into that sort of thing.

▪︎ “Babe, how would ya feel about tryin’ somethin’ new tonight, hm?” He’d ask sweetly, throwing his arms around your neck to pull you closer.

▪︎ Despite being full of kinky ideas and suggestive commentary, Angel would actually be really soft in bed most of the time. It would take him sometime to truly open up, initially relying heavily on the intense feelings of lust with his partner. But once that barrier was broken, he’d prefer the deep emotional connection of intimacy that would allow him to show a vulnerable version of himself.

▪︎ “You’ll let me take care of you, yeah? Wanna take my time with you…”

▪︎ Angel is the type to dress up for his partner in the prettiest lingerie and lives for the compliments you give him. He'd also love your opinion on picking and choosing which he should wear. So much so that he might even give you teasing peeks in public just to get a reaction from you.

▪︎ (I've said it before and I'll say it again 😇) Angel has a daddy kink. Whether that be calling his partner daddy or himself being called daddy, he is open to either option:

▪︎ "Oh fuck daddy, makin' me feel so good~"

▪︎ "You love daddy's cock? Well It's all yours baby, it ain't goin' anywhere..."

#hazbin hotel x reader #hasbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust #hazbin hotel #hotel hazbin angel dust

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offtorivendell · 3 days ago

Text

Why is Azriel so "different"?On Dusk, Hel and the Valg...

This post was written for @azrielappreciationweek Days 1, 2 and 3: Cool Quiet, Scarred and Belonging

Disclaimer: the following is only a theory which, as usual, makes no claim of being canon. It's LONG, even though I've almost certainly forgotten to add some thoughts I've misplaced. I'm sorry, but by the time I realised how stupidly long it would be I cbf splitting it up into smaller posts, so... no offence taken if this gets chucked into the too-hard basket.

My thanks, as always, go out to the lovely @wingedblooms, @ladynightcourt3 (the queen of quotes), @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @elrieldreamer, @cassianfanclub @shitwillnotbegiven, and anyone else who has helped me process my thoughts along the way. 💜

Spoilers: the entire Maasverse is referenced, reader beware.

One theory that seems to be (mostly lol) accepted across the fandom is that Azriel, the shadowsinger of Prythian's Night Court, may be more than simply Illyrian. Back in 2021, before reading the Crescent City series, I had wondered whether he might be descended from the Dusk Court (here, here and here), but after HOSAB was published - and then HOFAS especially - I had other thoughts. This post is just incredibly fucking belated.

Firstly, what evidence do we have to suggest that Azriel is different?

Quite a bit, in my opinion. From the moment Feyre met Azriel back in ACOMAF, there have been hints that, even beyond his seven siphons, he is not your average Illyrian warrior. That he may, in fact, be significantly different even to Rhys and Cassian.

As we can see, Feyre felt his otherness right from the start.

But the second male, the more classically beautiful of the two … Even the light shied from the elegant planes of his face. With good reason. Beautiful, but near-unreadable. He’d be the one to look out for—the knife in the dark. Indeed, an obsidian-hilted hunting knife was sheathed at his thigh, its dark scabbard embossed with a line of silver runes I’d never seen before. Rhys said, “This is Azriel—my spymaster.” Not surprising. Some buried instinct had me checking that my mental shields were intact. Just in case. - ACOMAF, chapter 16

Now, there's a lot to unpack in that brief passage - and I aim to do so over the course of this post - but let's begin with Feyre's instinct to ward against Azriel; a reaction that was unique to him. This was followed by further suggestions that Azriel is not purely Illyrian throughout the rest of the series, some of which are quite blatant.

Cassian finished his laughing. “Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And glad of it.” He hooked his black hair behind an ear—rounded; as mine had once been. “And we’re not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We’re just—Illyrians. Considered expendable aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier grunts at the worst.” “Which is most of the time,” Azriel clarified. I didn’t dare ask if those shadows were a part of being Illyrian, too. - ACOMAF, chapter 16

"You'll get used to it—the wording," he said. Clinging to him so tightly, I couldn't see his face. I watched the light shift inside the sapphire Siphon instead, as if it were the great eye of some half-slumbering beast from a frozen wasteland. "I don't really know where I fit in any- more," I admitted, perhaps only because the wind was screeching around us and Rhys had already winnowed ahead to where Cassian's dark form flew-beyond the wall. "I've been alive almost five and a half centuries, and I'm not sure of that, either," Azriel said. - ACOMAF, chapter 22

Azriel just shook his head. "I'll go. The Prison sentries know me—what I am." - ACOWAR, chapter 16

I was rasping for breath, sweat sliding down my spine, by the time he said, "Good." He cleared his throat. "I know you're not Illyrian, but amongst their kind, it is considered inappropriate to touch someone's wings without permission. Especially females." Their kind. Not his. - ACOWAR, chapter 19

One glance at Azriel’s unreadable face and I added, “Don’t bother to answer that.” A corner of Azriel’s mouth curled up, the shadows about him sliding over his neck like living tattoos, twins to the Illyrian ones marked beneath his leathers. Shadows different from anything my powers summoned, spoke to. Born in a lightless, airless prison meant to break him. Instead, he had learned its language. Though the cobalt Siphons were proof that his Illyrian heritage ran true, even the rich lore of that warrior-people, my warrior-people, did not have an explanation for where the shadowsinger gifts came from. They certainly weren’t connected to the Siphons, to the raw killing power most Illyrians possessed and channeled through the stones to keep from destroying everything in its path. The bearer included. - ACOFAS, chapter 7

"Azriel can winnow all the time, though." "Az is different. In a lot of ways." His tone didn't invite further questioning. - ACOSF, chapter 16

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's Bonus Chapter

There was even a hint or two about Azriel's possible Starborn heritage in HOFAS, thanks to Bryce.

“What have you done?” Azriel rasped, and Bryce twisted to find him on his feet, wings tucked in, Nesta leaning against him as if wounded, Ataraxia dangling from her grip. The male now held the Starsword at the ready, Truth-Teller gripped in his other hand. He must have had some sort of Starborn blood in him, then—a distant ancestor, maybe. Or maybe his possession of the knife somehow allowed him to also bear the Starsword. - HOFAS, chapter 24

Obviously Azriel is still Illyrian, I don't know anybody who disputes that in a non-crack theory manner, but it seems likely to me that he's also something more¹. All of the above hints about his shadowsinging powers, his own feelings of otherness to his people, and - potentially² - his ability to smell the Elucien bond as Lanthys did Nessian, the fact that we have yet to meet his mother? Is it simple coincidence, or intentional hints?

I could definitely be wrong, but I'm choosing the latter.

¹ "More" as in quantity, not quality. This is by no means a diss at Cassian or Rhys.

² To be fair, the true mate theory could also explain this; by the point in ACOSF that Nesta and Cassian met Lanthys they'd already been intimate, even if their bond was not yet "accepted."

The Dusk Court

As mentioned above - here, here, and here - I've been wondering for a long while if Azriel could be connected to the Dusk Court (or what remains of it).

I'd even started a meta on it, one of many that I lost track of and then never got around to finishing because my magpie brain latched onto other shiny theories or books, but the gist of it was that Azriel's mother (or, more likely imo, a distant female relative, such as his grandmother) hailed from Dusk. Given I thought the Hewn City/Court of Nightmares was the Dusk Court acting as a sub court to the Night Court, I had written an entire spiel about how one of Lord Thanatos' troublesome daughters may have been this female ancestor who fell in love and had a child with an Illyrian warrior who died prematurely, leaving her with nothing (not even a family who would take her back, because Hewn City bullshit amiright? Especially if she was unable to have further children after birthing a winged child), and that we hadn't met Azriel's mother yet because she might have spoilery traits like small/different wings or her own shadows. I went a lot deeper - funnily enough, my thoughts actually mirrored quite a bit of Hunt's mother's relationship with the father he never met (HOFAS, chapter 61) - and even wondered if this was partly why the Darkbringers and Illyrian soldiers disliked each other in ACOWAR... but those are the basics.

HOSAB then gave a different sort of importance to Lord Thanatos, but I don't think it necessarily precludes my original theory being right somehow, especially as "daughter" might be used as loosely as "son" was by Apollion in HOFAS, to mean that some power was donated for their creation. Even now, I still suspect Azriel may have hidden - or even corrupted - Starborn powers, which should indicate some minimum level of Dusk-based heritage.

While we now know the Made blades can be wielded by the Starborn - descendants of the Dusk Court - in addition to Made faeries such as Elain Archeron, I always suspected that Truth-Teller was much more important than we knew from the start (and I know I'm not the only one intrigued by the blade). After reading Crescent City, the parallels between Azriel's and Ruhn's almost guardianship of their respective magical blades until a female character³ came along to activate their power seemed to be significant (though of course with Elain it's still hypothetical, as we haven't had her POV yet).

³ Bryce may have been Theia's magical heir (though I suspect it may be through Ember rather than Einar), but she lives on Midgard - an entirely different planet. While the Archeron sisters may (or may not) spring from more humble beginnings than Fae royalty, imo they do share some notable parallels with Bryce and Theia herself. I discussed those in this post after HOSAB came out; since reading HOFAS, I suspect the Archeron sisters will grow to, as a unit, replace the Starborn magic that Bryce took, leaving Prythian unguarded. The power of three will set the land free, so to speak.

But back to Azriel. We know that Ruhn Danaan - the shadowy male who claimed the Starsword/Gwydion until a female associated with light came along and was able to activate its magic... sounds familiar, huh - is a Starborn prince who can wield shadows, and has some powers that appear similar to Az (shadow walking and mind speaking), though imo it may have been suggested that his light - aka Pelias' light - might be considered corrupt by Rigelus (while posing as Aidas).

Is Azriel's light magic corrupted as well?

“You knew the last Starborn Queen?” Ruhn asked. Starlight glinted among Ruhn’s shadows, shimmering down the length of his sword. Aidas’s eyes now flared with a strange sort of rage as he looked upon the Fae Prince. “I did. And I knew the sniveling prince whose light you bear.” A ripple of stunned silence went through the room. [...] “Theia was dead by that point,” Aidas said flatly. “Pelias slew her.” He nodded to the Starsword in Ruhn’s hand. “And stole her blade when he’d finished.” He snarled. “That sword belongs to Theia’s female heir. Not the male offspring who corrupted her line.” - HOSAB, chapter 15

Morven’s shadows gathered at his fingers, his shoulders. Wild, angry shadows that Ruhn’s own balked to meet. They seemed corrupted somehow, like those Seamus and Duncan wielded mentally. “You are Starborn. You have an obligation to our people.” - HOFAS, chapter 51

Further, Cormac and Morven Donnall are both Starborn and Avallen faeries, with "wild" shadows that seem to more closely mirror Azriel's own.

“How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?” Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House. Azriel’s brows flicked up with approval as the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark hive from which they flew and returned. - ACOMAF, chapter 16

Azriel nodded his agreement, his shadows twining around him. Most of the camp women had ducked into their homes when he’d appeared. - ACOWAR, chapter 18

She set down her teacup. “Is that a threat, Shadowsinger?” Cassian took a long drink from his own tea. Drained it to the dregs. Azriel said coolly, “I don’t need to resort to threats.” The shadows coiled around him, snakes ready to strike. - ACOSF, chapter 8

Azriel nodded his agreement, his shadows twining around him. Most of the camp women had ducked into their homes when he’d appeared. - ACOFAS, chapter 26

The thought was … not comforting. But neither were the shadows that curled like snakes around the king, wild and twining. A coiled crown of them sat atop Morven’s dark head, blacker than the Pit. - HOFAS, chapter 47

Without delving into the "why" of their wildness - was it the magical imbalance of the chained land that led to their wilder shadows, their prolonged proximity to an incredibly strong thin place (the obsidian or mists), was their line intentionally corrupted by a high power as Prythian's Cauldron was, or do they potentially have ties to demons, or the princes of Hel themselves? - it's not implausible to suggest that Azriel could also hail from the Starborn Fae of the Dusk Court, same as Rhys.

That being said, I think Hel will also play a part...

Prince of Hel

As I suggested in this reblog of @nikethestatue's post from way back when, I've been eyeing off one Lord Thanatos of the Hewn City (and his wayward, troublesome daughters) for a while. So when SJM dropped the bomb in HOSAB that the Prince of the Ravine, the soul eater, was called Thanatos, I was basically shaking my feet and screaming internally.

Because it had to be the same being, right? Right?!

I know I'm not the only one who noted the use of Thanatos' name, as others across the fandom have since suggested that Azriel may be related to the princes of Hel, or even be one himself... and as I've said before, I would not be surprised if this was the case (actually, at this point I would be shocked if Azriel wasn't related to the Hel Princes in some way, especially after what we learnt of Hunt's ancestry in HOFAS).

“Fine,” Hunt cut in. “Great, we’re protected.” He eyed the Prince of the Pit. His very bones shook, but he forced himself past his fear, his dread. “What the fuck did you mean by calling me son?” Thanatos scoffed. “You are no son of his.” He yanked off his war helmet, cradling it under an arm. “If anything, you are mine.” Hunt’s knees buckled. “What?” [...] “Because the Princes of Hel cannot be contained by the black crowns. The Asteri learned that—it was their downfall. As you were made by Hel’s princes, it should not be able to hold you.” Made by them? By these fuckers? - HOFAS, chapter 59

“Can we please rewind for a moment?” Bryce cut in. “You guys made the thunderbirds to complement my power—in case I never got the sword and knife, and if I ever needed a boost to open the Rift. But when they were hunted down, you … made Hunt, and then I was born …” “Athalar was already enslaved by then,” Aidas said, “but we kept a close watch.” Apollion nodded to Hunt. “Why do you think you’re so adept at hunting demons? It’s in your blood—part of me is in your blood.” Nausea clawed its way up Hunt’s throat. The thought of owing anything at all to the Prince of the Pit … “Just as he gave over some of his essence for the kristallos,” Thanatos said, “so he gave something to me for you. His Helfire.” “Helfire?” Bryce demanded. “The lightning,” Thanatos said, waving an irritated hand. “Capable of killing almost anything. Even an Asteri.” “That’s how you killed Sirius?” Bryce asked. “With your … Helfire?” “Yes,” Apollion said, then added to Hunt, “Your name was a nod to that, whispered in your mother’s ear as you were born. Orion … master of Sirius.” “Clever,” Hunt snapped, then demanded, “Wait—my lightning can kill the Asteri?” Hope bloomed, bright and beautiful in his chest. “No,” Apollion said. “It is … diluted from my own. It could harm them, but not kill them. I believe your mother’s angelic blood tempered my power.” - HOFAS, chapter 61

“Your father knew your mother briefly,” Aidas said. “And he knew having a partner would help lift her from her poverty. He had every intention of staying. Of leaving behind his life and raising you in secret.” Hunt could barely ask, “What happened?” “The mystics told Rigelus of your father’s connection to us. They didn’t discover everything—nothing about you or your mother. Only that he had been speaking to us. Rigelus had him brought in, tortured, and executed.” Hunt’s heart stalled. “He didn’t break,” Apollion said with something like kindness. “He never mentioned your mother, or her pregnancy. The Asteri never knew you were tied to him in any way.” - HOFAS, chapter 61

Bryce squeezed his knee, her hand so warm—or was he unnaturally cold? “Okay, so Hunt was made to be a backup battery for me—” “Can I do the same for Ruhn, then?” Hunt interrupted. “No,” Thanatos said. “The prince’s light, his affinity for these thin places, isn’t strong enough. Not like hers.” Hunt gripped Bryce’s hand atop his knee. “Is it in my DNA that Bryce and I are mates? Was that engineered, too?” “No,” Aidas said quickly, “that was never intended. I think that was left to higher powers. Whatever they may be.” Hunt turned to Bryce and found nothing but love in her eyes. He couldn’t stand it. Horror cracked through him, as chilled as hoarfrost. He’d been created by these males to give and to suffer, and where the fuck did that leave him? Who the fuck did that make him? “Okay,” Bryce said, “Helfire and starfire: a potent combination. But Helena left all this shit to help end this conflict. It sounds like you guys just want me to open a gods-damned door for you to come in and save the day instead.” - HOFAS, chapter 61

Thanatos used some of Apollion's helfire (lightning) to create Hunt as a weapon for Bryce, so it stands to reason that he may have done something similar in the Hewn City/Court of Nightmares that eventually resulted in Azriel, possibly with a different Prince of Hel - was it Koschei, or even himself - leaving "poisoned honey" on Prythian in case the Daglan/Asteri ever regained power? Feyre once referred to Azriel as a "dark hive," and we now know that he often helped Cassian to hunt down monstrous creatures like Blue Annis... could this be why? Does he have a natural talent for it, like Hunt? Was Az also created for a specific purpose?

I've been on the "Azriel and Elain are carranam" train from the time I joined the fandom, and since then I really do think that the three brothers and three sisters will act as paired conduits to save their world, as I mentioned in my third note above. In addition to the parallels I've noted between the Archeron sisters and Bryce (and Theia), Elain and Az shared a "charged" glance in ACOSF.

Nesta shook her head slowly, not understanding. Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. “I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room. - ACOSF, chapter 58

The very first book of the ACOTAR series confirmed that magic can appear as a charge in Prythian...

I opened my mouth to again ask him for his name, but a growl of annoyance rippled out of him. I didn’t have a chance to struggle, to fight back, when a charged, metallic tang stung my nose. Exhaustion slammed down upon me and blackness swallowed me whole. [...] I awoke with a jolt atop the horse, secured by invisible bonds. The sun was already high. Magic—that’s what the tang had been, what was keeping my limbs tucked in tight, preventing me from going for my knife. - ACOTAR, chapter 5

And then HOFAS gave us this - Azriel learning that he can charge up a Starborn Fae. A point that was so important to make that SJM ignored - or had reasons we are yet to learn - the fact that Azriel could have winnowed the three of them across the gap himself. Curious, given how she made doubly sure we knew how "different" Az was in ACOSF.

But Bryce frowned deeply at Azriel. “Do you ever use that power to, uh, charge people up?” “Charge?” “Fuel. Um. Give your power to someone else to help their power.” “Are you implying that I could do such a thing to you?” “I’m pretty sure the concept of a battery won’t have much meaning here, but yeah. My magic can be amplified by someone else’s power.” The other untranslatable word—battery—lay heavy on her tongue. But Nesta looked her over. “For what purpose?” “So I can teleport.” Another word that didn’t translate. “Winnow.” She pointed to the other side of the divide. “I could winnow us over there.” - HOFAS, chapter 16

Obviously there's always the possibility that SJM simply wrote that Azriel didn't winnow because A) he didn't want to expose any further facets of his magic unnecessarily to a Fae he had no reason to trust, or B) he wanted to see what Bryce could do, but what if it was C) that he lacked the strength to winnow at the time, as @ladynightcourt3 has so brilliantly thought? Because potentially, if light can blind an Oracle - one who may or may not use the murky realm of the Void to See - then there's a possibility that their growing proximity to the power chained deep in the land, or even Vesperus herself, may have made Azriel less able to see where he was going with his shadows to safely winnow them. Or was it that, similarly to whatever bond that exists between Elain and Lucien becoming too much for Azriel to bear, maybe the singing between Gwydion and Truth-Teller was distracting him?

As an aside, furthering the parallel between Hunt and Bryce that I noted earlier, I think the following passages support the idea that Azriel may be able to charge Elain, or that Elain can charge him as well, in addition to suggesting that he may be able to sense minds, or enter some that are more susceptible.

And what Hybern would do to Elain, might already be doing— From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.” - ACOWAR, chapter 64

Azriel slid back the curtain— Elain was in her nightgown. Gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us—Azriel and me— I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her. I kept up my litany of praying, beseeching the Cauldron to make my womb fruitful, on and on— Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head. “Hurry,” I whispered, then resumed my prayer. We had until it ran out. - ACOWAR, chapter 65

Azriel’s power gave out on the outskirts of our camp. The girl, despite the burns and lashings on her moon-white skin, was able to walk. The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he’d slapped on it. Help—he needed a healer immediately. - ACOWAR, chapter 65

Azriel didn’t give Rhys a chance to reconsider. Didn’t say good-bye to any of us. He shot into the sky, those still-healing wings beating hard as they carried him toward the scrambling northern flank. - ACOWAR, chapter 71

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.” He offered her a smile back. "I wasn't sure if I should give you your present." He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

We know that Elain likely shares that strong affinity for thin places, as may Az. Feyre mentioned the gray light of morning, mist around their ankles. Does this make them the ideal conduits for each other, as Hunt and Bryce were? As Feyre and Rhys - and, I suspect, Nesta and Cassian - are? Are they all meant to be "weapons" against a long, deeply sleeping foe?

Finally, let's revisit the first passage I mentioned at the top of this post, when Feyre first met Azriel:

Hunt stilled. There was only one being whose name was not uttered in Midgard. The Prince of the Pit. Apollion. His blood chilled. This was a fucked-up, weird-ass dream, no doubt caused by Quinlan literally blowing his mind into smithereens— “It is no dream.” The seventh and most lethal of the demon princes of Hel was in his mind— “I am not in your mind, though your thoughts ripple toward me like your world’s radio waves. You and I are in a place between our worlds. A pocket-realm, as it were.” “What do you want?” Hunt’s voice held steady, but—fuck. He needed to get out of here, to find some way back to Bryce. If the Prince of the Pit could get into Hunt’s mind, then— “If I went into her mind, my brother would be very angry with me. Again.” Hunt could have sworn he heard a smile in the prince’s voice. “You certainly worry a great deal about a female who is far safer than you at the moment.” - HOSAB, chapter 21

“During my time with Theia, Helena was a quiet girl, but she always listened.” “You spoke too much,” Thanatos snapped. Aidas ignored him. “Helena learned black salt would allow her to commune with us while protecting her mind and her soul.” - HOFAS, chapter 59

Given the princes of Hel were fathered by the Void - Apollion, the Prince of the Pit, said he resides in true darkness and has the ability to enter minds - and mothered by Chaos (who is possibly Wyrd?⁴), that they are attracted by obsidian (the material from which Truth-Teller's hilt is made), who may or may not use wyrdmarks that might match the runes on Truth-Teller's hilt (post on this to come), who appear to be able to use a black salt-induced dream state to communicate across worlds with their minds... it seems a little more than coincidental to me that Feyre would think to protect her mind from Azriel.

⁴ A personal crack theory that I'd love to be true - I think the eight pointed star may be Urd/Wyrd's or Chaos' symbol: a Chaos star. @wingedblooms has discussed Wyrd and Chaos here and here.

I once noted Azriel's similarities to Koschei, who can send his whispers on the wind, twisting distant minds to do his bidding. If Koschei is a prince of Hel - the sixth prince, of the Abyss? - could he have contributed towards Azriel's creation, either directly, or through the making of a female ancestor? Azriel has the ability to speak the language of shadow, wind and stone, which could plausibly tie in with Koschei as a hell prince: void, wind and obsidian. Or if it was Thanatos - the eater of souls - does this affect Azriel's ability to sense others around him, as Rhys once suggested? We know he's capable of using his shadows to read people. Was Azriel's existence, intentional or not, a secret like Hunt's?

Or to be completely cracked, is Azriel actually the heir to a currently empty throne in Hel?

Elide asked Lorcan, “Do you—do you feel any different?” The lack of the gods who’d watched over them. Lorcan peered up at the trees overhead, as if reading the answer in their entangled branches. As if searching for Hellas there. “No,” he admitted. “What does it mean,” Gavriel mused, the first rays of sun beginning to gild his golden hair, “for them to be gone? Is there a hell-realm whose throne now sits vacant?” “It’s too early for that sort of philosophical bullshit,” Fenrys said... - KOA, chapter 101

Whatever is going on here, please consider me still all aboard the Azriel is related to the Princes of Hel train until told otherwise by SJM. Choo Choo!

The Valg

Moving on from the princes of Hel, many of the fandom - myself included - are desperate to know exactly how Aidas and his brothers may be related to the Valg, a race of demons we met in SJM's 'Throne of Glass' series. Are they the same as, or simply related to each other? Did Hel's princes - or possibly Void and Chaos - create the Valg as well, or did the Valg just evolve naturally on the planet that is Hel, eventually turning it cold and barren? I know some in the fandom have drawn parallels between Rhys and Maeve, and theorised that he may be partly Valg, which would be such a twist if true! I'd love it.

But more than all of that, I want to know what Azriel may have to do with the Valg. Because in addition to my suspicions that the King of Hybern may have been infected by a Valg/Valg-type being (and that Elain assassinating him with a sunlight charged Truth-Teller was akin to Yrene healing Erawan out of existence), I have been wondering about Azriel and his shadows for years. I know I've suggested that Koschei could be a prince of Hel, but I also think there's a chance he could be Valg. I outlined in this post, where I wondered if Koschei was once known as Fionn - yes, I can see there's a pattern forming here, thanks 😂 - if he had once loaned magic to the King of Hybern, who had "hateful black eyes" and a "galaxy" in his palm, in order for Hybern to be powerful enough to orchestrate a scenario that Koschei was unable to himself, given he's trapped at his lake; considering this possibility in the context of the Valg existing in Prythian, and that Koschei may be one of them, it could mean that Koschei himself, or a loyal Valg prince, was possessing Hybern's king; a pawn until he was no longer required.

As I mentioned earlier, there are significant parallels between Azriel and Koschei that should not be ignored, especially if Koschei ends up being his magical ancestor in some way. In addition to this, Azriel's history and habits are intriguing when laid out next to what we know of the Valg as a species. Although, given the similarities between the Princes of Hel and the Valg, much of the following could indicate some sort of link to either species (that's assuming they're actually different, of course).

The Valg's true form involves a smokey, shadowy aura, while Azriel is a shadowsinger, described as a "dark hive" from where his shadows originated.

Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House. Azriel’s brows flicked up with approval as the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark hive from which they flew and returned. I tried not to shudder and faced Rhys, hoping for an explanation about his spymaster’s dark gifts. Rhys’s face was blank, but his eyes were wary. Assessing. I almost demanded what the hell he was looking at, until Mor breezed onto the balcony with, “If Cassian’s howling, I hope it means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.” - ACOMAF, chapter 16

While a Valg's possession of someone's body is often confirmed through their unnaturally black eyes, it's interesting that Erilea's witches - who are half Valg and half fae - are increasingly prized the more golden their eyes are. Though Azriel's eyes are naturally hazel, a colour which often contains flecks of gold, they have notably glowed golden before. @psychologynerd and I have both discussed the possibility that Azriel could be a witch; this could be another indication of his hypothetical Valg ancestry. Edit: I just found this brilliant post, by @sak2605 which included a passage where Valg described Manon's gold eyes as the eyes of their masters!

The Valg fear fire so much they attempted to wipe out Aelin's entire flame-wielding family.

“Hello, princeling,” she said, her voice bedroom-soft and full of glorious death. “Hello, witchling,” he said. And the words were his own. For a moment he was so stunned that he blinked. He blinked. The demon inside of him recoiled, clawing at the walls of his mind. Eyes of the Valg kings, eyes of our masters, it shrieked. Do not touch that one! - QOS, chapter 58

Credit for the observation goes to @ladynightcourt3 but Azriel's brothers burnt his hands. Furthering the possibility we have discussed before, that his horrible half brothers were pouring oil onto some sort of Starborn flame that he may have unwittingly exhibited, could said Starborn magic have sparked in the first place because it was trying to purify itself from a dark, shadowy infestation taking root in the lightless dungeon? Imagine if the pain of the burns only fuelled the Valg attempting to hijack young Az! And, while Nesta thought Azriel was lying when he said his shadows don't like the flames so much because he's sat in front of the fireplace "plenty," we do know they tend to avoid the light of a different sort of flame: the sun.

I didn’t doubt his claim. And the other Illyrian … “Azriel—his hands. The scars, I mean,” I said. “Where did they come from?” Rhys was quiet a moment. Then he said too softly, “His father had two legitimate sons, both older than Azriel. Both cruel and spoiled. They learned it from their mother, the lord’s wife. For the eleven years that Azriel lived in his father’s keep, she saw to it he was kept in a cell with no window, no light. They let him out for an hour every day—let him see his mother for an hour once a week. He wasn’t permitted to train, or fly, or any of the things his Illyrian instincts roared at him to do. When he was eight, his brothers decided it’d be fun to see what happened when you mixed an Illyrian’s quick healing gifts with oil—and fire. The warriors heard Azriel’s screaming. But not quick enough to save his hands.” - ACOMAF, chapter 18

Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him. “Why don’t you sit?” She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger. “My shadows don’t like the flames so much.” A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. - ACOSF, chapter 58

The Valg use rings and necklaces of wyrdstone, an obsidian material, to infect a host, and in addition to Truth-Teller's hilt being made from obsidian - I've wondered before whether it could be a wyrdkey, or even possessed - Azriel was once described as not having shadows at his ear, or darkness ringing his fingers when around Elain. Does this mean that his shadows - which we now know are concentrated magic - could be infected by a Valg-type being such that they can influence his mind, and maybe even control his body? Could he become a "mindless" soldier grunt?

Cassian’s dark brows narrowed. I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

The Valg princes can feed on pain and nightmares; in the ACOTAR, shadows are frequently associated with - and can even darken with - pain. Azriel was once described as having shadows and terrors over his shoulder, and there are many examples of his shadows gaining strength when he is uncomfortable or hurting, and lightening when he is happy or content. Is this because his nightmares/negative emotions are less potent and so stop fuelling the Valg he is - hypothetically - carrying around?

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. - ACOWAR, chapter 69

“Can’t sleep?” Cassian took up a fighting stance. A shadow curled around Azriel’s neck, the only one brave enough to face the sunlight. “Something like that,” he said, and settled into his own stance across from Cassian. Cassian let it drop, knowing Az would have told him already if he’d wanted to share what had been hounding him enough to exercise at night, rather than in the morning with them. - ACOSF, chapter 23

Speaking of, what is going on with this newly brave shadow? If Azriel or his shadows are hosts in some way for Valg-type being/s, is something causing them to gain on him? Is it his notably intensified depression from ACOSF, or the fact that he was standing above the House of Wind, the heart of which might be connected in some way to Hel? Alternatively, is it a positively denoted response to his new proximity to the Archeron sisters and their (hypothetical) different forms of Starborn light?

Could Azriel's shadows/magic simply be possessed, or are they actually a swarm of Valg in their own right, either wholly or in part, and attempting to use Azriel and Truth-Teller as a thin place to cross into Prythian? This behaviour fits with what we know of them as a species, though of course we don't know if they have the ability to do this specifically. But if Azriel does harbour some sort of Valg infestation, it becomes very interesting that his shadows respond by brightening around Feyre, who is a powerful healer, Mor - whose power is Truth (Damaris, the sword of Truth, was used in Erawan's death), and Elain⁵ (of whom many have wondered if she contains pure life or rebirth from the Cauldron, which could potentially allow her to heal - especially given the frequent use of "dawn" to describe her, another parallel with Yrene, the Torre Cesme, and even the Dawn Court in Prythian).

⁵ I'm including this information in the discussion not because of any shipping preference, but due to its relevance if Azriel really is infected by a Valg-type being.

Could this phenomenon extend beyond the fact that they, like the rest of his found family, all make Azriel feel comfortable within himself, and mirror what we learnt about Yrene⁶ and her powers? Otherwise, it would be incredibly coincidental that Elain is the sister who loves to nurture the cycle of life by gardening, who is so often described with imagery pertaining to warmth and the sun (especially at dawn), who has wielded Truth-Teller in such a way that may indicate she activated its powers and weakened a possible Valg prince, who has been strongly linked to hope, who has a different sort of strength, who has even brought a king to his knees...

⁶ @wingedblooms has previously discussed Elain's parallels with Yrene here and here; as always I suggest reading her brilliant posts!

Erawan panted as he approached. “Healer,” he breathed, his unholy power emanating from him like a black aura. She backed away a step, closer to the balcony rail. The dark king followed her, a predator closing in on long-awaited prey. “Do you know how long I have looked for you?” The wind tossed his golden hair. “Do you even know what you can do?” She hesitated, slamming into the balcony rail behind her, the drop so hideously endless. “How do you think we took the keys in the first place?” A hateful, horrible smile. “In my world, your kind exists, too. Not healers to us, but executioners. Death-maidens. Capable of healing—but also unhealing. Unbinding the very fabric of life. Of worlds.” Erawan smirked. “So we took your kind. Used them to unbind the Wyrdgate. To rip the three pieces of it from its very essence. Maeve never learned it—and never shall.” His jagged breathing deepened as he savored each word, each step closer. “It took all of them to hew the keys from the gate—every one of the healers amongst my kind. But you, with your gifts—it would only take you to do it again. And with the keys now returned to the gate …” Another smile. “Maeve thinks I left to kill you, destroy you. Your little fire-queen thought so, too. She could not conceive that I wanted to find you. Before Maeve. Before any harm could come to you. And now that I have … What fun you and I shall have, Yrene Towers.” - KOA, chapter 113

Erawan’s power swelled, but Yrene was already glowing, bright as the far-off dawn. - KOA, chapter 113

Erawan didn’t seem to know where to look. Not as Dorian sent out a punch of his healing light that knocked him off balance. Not as Lysandra leaped upon the dark king, pinning him to the stones. Not as Elide, Damaris in her hands, plunged the blade deep through Erawan’s gut, and between the stones below. Erawan screamed. But the sound was nothing compared to what came out of him as Yrene reached him, hands like burning stars, and slammed them upon his chest. The world slowed and warped. Yet Yrene was not afraid. - KOA, chapter 113

He arched, shrieking, but Damaris held him down, that ancient blade unwavering. His dark power rose, a wave to devour the world. Yrene did not let it touch her. Touch any of them. Hope. It was hope that Chaol had said she carried with her. Hope that now grew in her womb. For a better future. For a free world. - KOA, chapter 113

The gods might have been gone, Silba with them, but Yrene could have sworn she felt those warm, gentle hands guiding her. Pushing upon Erawan’s chest as he thrashed, the force of a thousand dark suns trying to rip her apart. Her power tore through them all. Tore and shredded and ripped into him, into the writhing worm that lay inside. The parasite. The infection that fed on life, on strength, on joy. Distantly, far away, Yrene knew she was incandescent with light, brighter than a noontime sun. Knew that the dark king beneath her was nothing more than a writhing pit of snakes, biting at her, trying to poison her light. - KOA, chapter 113

A thought and Yrene’s power flared brighter. Erawan screamed. The power of creation and destruction. That’s what lay within her. Life-Giver. World-Maker. Bit by bit, she burned him up. Starting at his limbs, working inward. And when her magic began to slow, Yrene held out a hand. She didn’t feel the sting of her palm cutting open. Barely felt the pressure of the callused hand that linked with hers. But when Dorian Havilliard’s raw magic barreled into her, Yrene gasped. Gasped and turned into starlight, into warmth and strength and joy. - KOA, chapter 113

Yrene’s power was life itself. Pure, undiluted life. It nearly brought Dorian to his knees as it met with his own. As he handed over his power to her, willingly and gladly, Erawan prostrate before them. Impaled. The demon king screamed. - KOA, chapter 113

I could be wrong of course! But it just seems too coincidental to me that we have all of these parallels between one of the Archeron sisters⁷ and the unassuming healer who - together with her friends - executed a Valg king in Erilea when I have suspected for a while that Azriel's shadows had been hijacked or corrupted in some manner.

⁷ I once posted, ages ago, that Azriel's shadows do not recoil from Elain Archeron, and even though I just outlined why I think she might be able to heal/purify them (assuming they're corrupted, of course), I stand by the theory. It is the corruption that would be vanishing/weakening around her and not the concentrated magic itself. And it would be an interesting tie in to the "purity language" (not my term) that SJM has used between them. That's the only shippy note I'll make here, and only because it would otherwise appear like I was contradicting my earlier self.

Anyway! If you've read this far then well done you, I'm sorry I didn't break this up into more manageable sized posts. I hope it all made sense, I did leave a bit out to try to salvage some of its atrocious length, so if I realise I forgot to tie something back around I may come back and fix it. But to sum up once more, I do think - and others have also noted - that there are many parallels between Azriel and the Starborn/Dusk Court Fae, the princes of Hel and the Valg, though one could argue that the latter two parallels extend to any void-based or demonic beings in general (which tracks if I'm correct that Illyrians can trace at least some of their origins to Hel).

Thank you for reading! 💜

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