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cressidagrey · 8 hours ago

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It's a Love Story - Chapter 6

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

DEFINETLY NSFW! Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

For somebody that filled her romance novels with plenty of smut… Sky wasn’t exactly as experienced as one may expected.

Actually…she was woefully inexperienced.

There had been Admon…and Admon it had been.

The rest of the stuff in her books…well, that was just her fantasy wildly spinning stories about how sex should feel. Informed by plenty of books she had read, other authors, and of course…there were the two people that got to read every book she wrote before it was published: Orla, her publisher, and her friend Ressina, who was nice enough to take the pen to every thing she wrote that was woefully inaccurate.

Because nothing ever felt to her like she portrayed it in the books.

Maybe that was normal. Maybe it was because of course her books portrayed something…better than reality, an escape from it. But still…sometimes Sky had just wondered…

As Azriel carried her towards the bedroom, Sky couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, she did, more than anything. But the truth was, she was…nervous.

She had written about this moment countless times, had described it in vivid detail in her novels. But now that it was actually happening, she felt…insecure. What if it wasn’t as good in real life as she made it out to be on paper? What if she did disappoint him?

(Sky knew that she had disappointed Admon numerous times…that she seemingly had never been enough for him…had been so bad at it in fact that he had instead slept with her sister…which was a whole other kettle of fish that she really didn’t want ot think to close about right now.)

Sky tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the here and now.

Azriel was here with her, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way he looked at her. And yet, that nagging feeling of doubt still lingered.

And then there was the fact while he had admitted to sending his shadows to search for her… Sky was still keeping a rather big secret.

“Az…Azriel…” she said hesitantly. “There…there is one thing you should know about me.”

Azriel paused, setting Sky down on the bed gently before turning to look at her.

"Go on," he prompted her gently, taking her hand in his as he sat down next to her and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell me anything, Sky." She believed him. he wouldn’t judge her. She was sure of that as well.

“You…You k…know how…how I…I write… ro…romance no..novels?” Sky asked him, biting her lip.

Azriel nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I do," he said, leaning in closer to her. "You told me.”

“I…I am Sellyn Drake,” she blurted out.

She had never outright admitted it to another person.

Ressina had been the one who had send off her first manuscript to be published…and Orla had met with her…these were the two people in existence that knew that Skylar Alden was also Sellyn Drake. And Skylar had always been comfortable with keeping it that way.

There was no need to tell anybody else.

Which was why it worked so well, that Ressina was an artist and could paint the bookcovers for her. No need whatsoever to let anybody else see the hesitant first drafts until she was sure this was where she wanted to go. Just Ressina. Just one of her very few friends. If not her only.

Azriel stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?" he asked, completely taken aback. "You're...Sellyn Drake?" There was no…outright disbelief in his voice, just shock.

*We know! We made Master read your books!* the shadows cooed. *Lady Death, The Priestess and The Shopkeeper love them too!*

She had no idea who any of these people were but…

Azriel's eyes widened even further as the shadows spoke up. "You...you knew about this?" he asked them, turning towards the shadows in disbelief. "You knew. That’s why you gave me her books to read!”

This was just getting better and better.

Sky, who had been watching Azriel and the shadows’ exchange with a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Do…Do they always…” she couldn’t even put it into words.

Azriel sighed. “They like to meddle,” he said darkly. “And this time they were particularly persistent.” He shot a reproachful look at the shadows, who cowered a little under his gaze. "I won't lie, they did manipulate me into reading your books. And when my shadows do something they are rather...convincing."

She swallowed.

“Did…did you…li…like them at…at least?” Sky asked hesitantly.

Azriel hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I...I did," he admitted earnestly. "Your writing...it's brilliant, Sky.” Her heart soared at his words. She treasured them, hoarding them away like a dragon. But he wasn’t done. “The characters, the emotions, the way you make the reader feel everything...it's incredible. I couldn't put them down."

Sky grinned at his words, feeling a swell of pride in her chest. "I…I'm glad you..you li…liked them," she said softly.

*Master especially liked the…*

“Shut. Up.” Azriel snapped, his ears reddening and Sky started laughing. She could just about imagine what the shadows wanted to tell her at that moment.

Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill them," he muttered under his breath.

"They…they are ju…just try…trying to help you, aren't they?" she asked softly, squeezing his hand in hers. Only now she noticed the violent scars that marred them, the texture of raised and bumpy skin…but she didn’t care. Not one bit.

*Of course, we are,* the shadows said, like any other idea was simply blasphemous. *We gave Master the best information we could. So that Master would know what you like.*

Sky probably shouldn't find it as adorable as she did. But the lengths they had gone to...the way they had made Azriel read her books so that he would know what she liked...nobody in her life had ever gone to these lengths just to find out what she liked.

"I swear I am not a total creep," Azriel told her with a grimace.

Sky laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "No…no, no, you're not," she assured him, squeezing his, hands gently. "I…I ac…actually think it's… quite… sweet. In a weird, sli…slightly invasive kind of way. But sweet nonetheless."

"I think you are the only female that could possible think that," Azriel muttered, glaring at the shadows that didn't seem apologetic in the slightest.

Sky grinned, leaning in closer to him. "It’s… endearing,” she finally settled on. “Maybe even a lit…little bit charming," she promised him earnestly.

Azriel looked at her incredulously, his expression softening a little. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" he asked her.

Sky shook her head. "No. No, I'm not," she said, her voice unwavering. "I…I mean it, Azriel. It iss actually really sweet that you would go to… such lengths just to try to un…understand me better. And you ad…admitted to it. And not just after the mating bond was accepted but within hours of meeting me."

Azriel didn't keep it a secret, even when he could have, and she would have been none the wiser.

"I don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I'm not going to question it," he whispered.

She swallowed. That's what she was thinking. The exact same words.

Sky pulled him down, letting his forehead rest against hers.

"I know that...that I am supposed to cook you something...but how disappointed would you be if I gave you one of those caramel bonbons in my purse to accept the bond instead?" she asked him softly, meeting his gaze.

His eyes widened and he stared at her in pure, undiluted wonder.

"I could not possible be dissappointed by whatever you offered me," Azriel whispered. "But...are you...are you sure?"

"I am being utterly selfish," she whispered. "Yes. I want you." She didn't care that people would have thoughts about it...that she was rushing into this.

They were probably right.

But Sky really didn't care. Sky only wanted him. Sky was ready to throw caution overboard and rush into this headfirst without a thought about the consequences, if that meant that she would get her mate.

"Then let's be selfish together," Azriel whispered.

With shaky hands she reached into her purse, finding one of the caramel bonbon she kept in there...unwrapped it out of the paper and then...then she offered it to him, lifting it to his lips.

Azriel looked at the bonbon, then at her, and for a moment she thought he would say something. But then his mouth opened and he took it from her hand... He chewed it, swallowing carefully, his gaze never wavering from hers. For a moment, they stayed suspended in that moment of tension, the only sound their breathing. And then, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her as if she was the most precious thing in his entire world.

A Mating Frenzy had always been protrayed as animalistic in every book she read. So of course, Sky had written the exact same thing.

But it wasn't...not really.

Not for them.

And being with Azriel was also a far cry from being with Admon...mostly because then it had often been...embarrassing and painful.

Admon had always found something to criticise on her body...foreplay had been nonexistent, even when she had tried...and while he had been more than willing to use her mouth to find his own pleasure he had never returned that favour.

With Azriel it was different. Every touch, every caress, every kiss made her feel things she had never felt before. It was like her body was coming alive for the first time.

All her senses were heightened, every nerve in her body singing with pleasure, and Sky couldn't get enough of him. She wanted more. No, she needed more. As Azriel trailed kisses down her throat, she arched her back, pressing herself against him, her hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of him that she could reach.

"Can I...Can I touch your wings?" she asked breathlessly, not wanting to...cross some unsaid line.

"Please," Azriel breathed out. "Yes, Sky, please." He lifted his wings, extending them out behind him, giving her free rein to touch and explore to her heart's content. As Sky's fingers brushed against the contours of his wings, Azriel let out a low, guttural moan, his wings twitching and shuddering at the sensation. They were massive and pitch black.

"They are beautiful," she whispered, running her hands over the silky black skin, feeling the warmth radiating from them.

He shuddered at her touch, his wings arching and trembling beneath her gentle caress. he leaned his forehead against hers as he gently tipped her back against the bed and she went willingly, wrapping her hands over the gleaming talons at the tip of his wings as she kissed him.

Azriel growled softly in response, his hands sliding up beneath her dress, opening the lacing in one fluid motion. As the dress fell open, revealing her body beneath, Azriel pulled back for a moment, looking down at her with dark, hungry eyes. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, his gaze roaming over her body.

She didn't even have the time to feel self-conscious, not when she was drowning in the waves of desire that shot across their bond from him. Not when her whole body seemingly trembled against his and she kissed him again, opening her mouth to his tongue.

He slipped open the dress and she opened her mouth, halfway ready to tell him how he could get the corset she wore off, but he already opened the lacing. "Why?" he asked her softly, as he saw the red indents left on her body, and she grimaced.

"Claire," she whispered.

She wore corsets usually for support, because her breast could get heavy and painful without the proper support...but she never laced them as tightly as she did when she saw her family. Or her sister. Then she pulled them tight, trying to squash her body to be something…something her family could stomach, something they maybe wouldn't comment on...she always failed.

Azriel hissed softly, his fingers lightly tracing the red marks on her skin. She knew that they looked horrible, and yet he looked...angered? Almost furious. His expression softened as he looked back into her eyes, his fingers gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Why would you do something like that to yourself, Sky?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "You are beautiful. You don't need to change anything about your body." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to a particularly hard imprint the corset had left.

Sky swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat as emotion welled up in her chest. No one had ever said something like that to her, had ever made her feel like she was good enough just the way she was. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded, feeling a single tear slip down her cheek. Azriel wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand coming up to cup her face tenderly.

"You are perfect," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Just the way you are. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise. Not even your family." Sky leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and just focusing on the closeness, the warmth, the feeling of being cherished and protected.

With every word he spoke, she felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, her fears and insecurities melting away. She realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly saw her, the real her. Who accepted her exactly as she was, flaws and all.

It was so easy to sink into that. So easy to trust him. So easy to just kiss him, as she pushed the shirt he wore over his shoulders...to feel acres of gold skin, dotted with scars and dark markings...to bare him for her view and see how utterly gorgeous her mate was.

He growled softy as she ran her hand down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin. His body was a tapestry of pain and survival, yet she wasn't deterred. She only found him more beautiful for it.

"Mine," she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest, to one particularly nasty scar. "All mine." She could feel his heart pounding beneath her lips, the steady beat matching the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her hands trailed down his chest, his stomach, until she reached the waistband of his trousers.

It was so easy.

So easy, to shed clothing until they were bare...so easy to press against him and feel warm, perfect skin...so easy to relax underneath him as he stretched over her...so easy to simply cup his face as she kissed him...as her legs wrapped around his hips and he groaned and she whimpered as she felt him...hot and hard and huge, pressing against her...She was dripping wet without him even laying as single finger on her beneath the waist.

Azriel didn't look unaffected, his breath coming in ragged pants, his eyes fixed on hers as they were blown wide and dark with want. He didn't move, didn't kiss her, didn't pull her closer. He only waited. Waited for her.

"I need you," she whimpered. "Please. Please, Az." He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, his hips rocking gently against her, teasing them both with the heat and friction between them.

Nothing hurt. Nothing ever even threatened to hurt...Even as she could feel him notch against her there...even when she could feel herself lewdly stretched open on his cock...

It was so soft and gentle and sweet and…

It was everything Sky had ever wanted.

Not the rough kind of fucking...not the animalistic coupling she wrote half the time...but she had wanted this. She had wanted sweetness and adoration and...love...and to be wrapped up in her mate's arms like she was a precious, precious thing. She had wanted whispered praised against her skin and to be touched like she mattered...

"Sky," he whispered, his hands running up her side, his touch was soft and soothing, worshipping her body. He kissed her, slowly, deeply, and there was something...almost overwhelming about it.

About the way he made her feel. The way he made her feel loved and adored. The way he made her feel cherished. Her hands wandered up to his back, tracing the muscles shifting beneath scarred, scarred skin.

She could feel him trembling, feel the tension in his body as he held himself back, but still, he moved in slow and gentle thrusts, taking his time. He worshipped her - every little gasp and moan, every curve of her body. He traced her shape with his fingertips and lips, exploring her as though he was trying to memorize every inch of her body.

She didn't know how long they stayed that way, their bodies as one, but Sky didn't care. She was surrounded by him - the heat of his skin, the sound of his breath, the way he whispered her name like a prayer. Sky could feel the love and devotion pouring through the bond, washing over her in waves, and she knew that this was exactly where she was meant to be. With him, in his arms, completely and utterly whole.

It nearly came as a shock as she came.

A breathless moan fell from her lips as her orgasm rushed over her, her body arching as she called out his name. He kissed her through it, murmuring praise against her lips as he held her close, his own release following soon after.

They stayed there for a moment, tangled together, both of them breathless and sated. Azriel's wings slowly wrapped around them, cocooning them in a warm, protective embrace that made Sky feel safe and cherished in a way she had never experienced before.

***

There was not one inch of his mate's body that wasn't utterly beautiful. From the tips of her arched ears, to her beautiful eyes...to the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist and the soft flesh of her belly and the flare of her hips...she smelled so good too...especially now that their scents had started to mix, and he could breath in caramel and hazelnuts and cedars and the sweet, beautiful scent of happiness as she laid underneath him. His head was bedded on her stomach, as she drew short fingernails through his messy dark hair. He nearly wanted to start to purr as she scratched at his scalp.

Azriel felt...content.

More content than he ever remembered feeling. He was wrapped up in her, his mate, with her gentle hands in his hair, and he felt utterly and completely at peace. He didn't care if they never moved from that bed again. He didn't care if the world outside their little cocoon burned. So long as she was by his side, he was content. He had never felt like this before. He had never felt this...happy. This...whole.

"I need to go feed Hector," Sky told him softly, trailing her fingers through his hair.

"Can I just have the shadows kidnap him and bring him here?" he asked, not wanting to move.

"You can't go kidnapping my cat, Az," she chided him gently, but even as she said the words, she didn't stop drawing her fingers through his hair, and Azriel didn't move. He was far too comfortable.

"Why not?" he complained.

"You'll terrify him," she said with a laugh. "Besides, do you have cat food here?"

"I'll have the shadows find some Tuna," he mumbled.

"Do…Do they just ac…acquire whatever you tell them to?" she asked him with some amusement.

And lots of things he didn't tell them to, as well. They thought he didn’t know.

Azriel raised himself on his forearms, looking down at Sky with a glint in his eye. "You have no idea how many things I've acquired that way," he told her with a grin.

She lifted her hands, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down towards her, resting her forehead against his. "You're a menace," she murmured against his lips.

"Your menace," he replied, kissing her softly.

Sky smiled, a warm, slow curve of her lips that made his chest feel tight. "Mine," she agreed, her voice soft. "But no kidnap…kidnapping my cat. He's at home."

"We could make this our home," he protested softly. "Move in with me."

Azriel had no fucking clue what was even coming over him. They should have slowed down, stopped to think...but neither of them seemed to want to.

They just…they seemed utterly content to crash through what other people considered a normal timeline and just be together right now.

He just wanted to be near her. He wanted to share a life with her, a home. He wanted to curl up with her in front of the fire on a cold winter's night, and spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with her. He wanted to take her flying, and watch as she wrote and listened to her read the words she wrote.

And he wanted - Gods, he wanted her to want that too. He held his breath as he waited for her response.

For a moment, she was silent, and Azriel wondered if he had stepped too far, asked too much too soon.

But then, Sky smiled again, her eyes sparkling with emotions.

"...Al…Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll…I’ll move in with you."

Azriel couldn't help but grin as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Really? You mean it?" he asked, still unable to believe his ears.

"Really," she echoed with a laugh, before her expression turned serious. "But I…I have one co…condition."

Azriel raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"

"If I move in with you..." she began, wrapping her arms around his neck. "All my books need to come to," she told him seriously.

Azriel laughed, leaning back in to kiss her softly. "All your books can come, if that's what you want," he said. "As long as you're here, I don't care what else you bring."

And then the shadows unceremoniously dumped a screeching demon on the bed with them.

Sky let out a surprised yelp as Hector landed next to them with a thud, quickly scrambling away from the cat - and from under Azriel's weight. Azriel, for his part, sprang up, his wings flaring out in alarm. For several long moments, the three of them just stared at each other. Hector, his mismatched eyes glowing, his fur puffed up to twice it’s normal size, and Sky, her expression a mixture of surprise and affection as she looked at her pet. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Well, that's one way to introduce the two of you. Az, meet Hector."

...Gods, the shadows had really not been lying when they said that the cat was the ugliest thing they had ever seen.

Azriel slowly lowered his wings, eyeing the creature that was half-cat and half-demon. "He...looks like he wants to kill me," he said slowly.

Sky laughed, reaching out to scratch Hector's head. "He's just grumpy because he got teleported here so suddenly," she told him. "And he's not used to strangers." Hector's fur slowly flattened, and he began to purr, rubbing his head against Sky's hand. "Besides, he'd never hurt anyone," she added, looking up at Azriel with a smile.

Somehow Azriel highly doubted that.

Sky picked Hector up, cradling the cat in her arms as his purring grew louder. "See? He's not so bad," she told Azriel, moving towards him, and Azriel had to resist the urge to back away. "Hold out your hand, let him sniff you. He just needs to get used to you."

Azriel hesitantly held out his hand, trying his best to ignore the way Hector's eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light. After a moment, Hector moved forward, sniffing at Azriel's hand. Azriel felt the soft brush of whiskers against the palm of his hand, and Hector nudged his head against him, purring louder.

"See, he loves you!" Sky said enthusiastically

Azriel let out a laugh, slowly scratching the top of Hector's head. "I think he's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security before he scratches my eyes out, you know."

She rolled her eyes, "You are the most handsome cat I know," she cooed at him. "And you won't ever scratch out Azriel's eyes. No, you won't.”

Azriel would not quite go as far as describe the cat as handsome...but then...his own scarred hands weren't particularly beautiful either.

So Hector and him had that in common.

And the fact that they both wanted to cuddle with Sky. Actually, he was pretty sure that the cat hated him just for taking away his monopoly on that.

But Azriel would have shared a house with the King of Hybern if that meant that he got to have Sky in his bed.

She smiled at him, her eyes warm and adoring. "I knew you two would hit it off," she said, holding Hector in the crook of her arm. The cat stared at Azriel for a moment, as if sizing him up, before leaping off Sky's lap and disappearing under the bed with a soft patter of paws. "He'll warm up to you eventually," Sky assured him, but Azriel wasn't so sure about that.

He pulled Sky in closer to him, slipping back underneath the sheets with her, kissing her forehead. "I'll win him over, eventually," he promised her. At least, he hoped he would - he didn't particularly enjoy the idea of having to wake up with his throat being sliced open by an angry cat.

He would buy that damn cat all the Tuna in the world if that made Sky happy.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #It's a Love Story

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soleilchanson · 1 day ago

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Wearing a backless dress in front of Nanami for the first time.

Note: early relationship feels. F!reader, AFAB reader. Not proofread, I’m sorry for torturing you guys. A smidge of SUGGESTIVENESS

Nanami was a punctual man. He hated tardiness especially when it came to himself. Which is why he was getting agitated when you were taking too long to get ready.

“Honey, are you done?” Nanami impatiently called out from your living room. You were going to meet his friends for the first time today. It was a high school friend group reunion because everyone conveniently happened to be in the same city at the same time.

You were all meeting at a very luxurious bar so you wanted to dress well to make a good first impression. “Yeah, let me just get my coat and we’re good to go.” You said as you left your room to get to the coat stand in the living room. He thanked his lucky stars at that moment. He knew it took you a long time to get ready but he was starting to think that he should give you an earlier time so you could get ready faster from here on out.

But time stood still for him when his eyes landed on you.

Nanami immediately stood up when he saw you. He involuntarily put his hand on his chest. Almost like he was trying to calm himself down.

His tawny eyes raked down your figure. It was a simple dress- full sleeved with a square neckline and a hem that reached right above your knee. The show stopper was your bare back.

Sure, Nanami had seen you naked a few times since the beginning of your relationship, but he hadn’t seen you dress up so beautifully unless it was for a date at an expensive restaurant (which seldom happened for you both enjoyed exploring hole in the wall places).

Friends be damned. His girlfriend looked like dessert served on a gold platter.

“You…” His rasped out. He couldn’t even find the words to describe the sight in front of him.

He slowly walked towards you (with heart eyes) and removed your jacket from your grasp. “Everything alright?” Your eyes searched his but he was too busy staring at your neckline.

“Yeah, just… spin for me, darling. I want to take this all in before we leave.” You giggled at his request and did as he asked.

“Like what you see?”

“Very much.”

“You can have me whenever, babe. We’re gonna come back to my place after meeting everyone anyway.” Nanami pulled you to him with a small tug to your wrist after you said that.

“Yes, but knowing that we’ll be late because of how beautiful you look makes me feel excited.” His said as he stroked his fingers up and down your back. He leaned in to get a kiss but you pulled away. “I just did my makeup.” You whined.

“Just one little kiss. I promise I won’t ruin it.” You groaned at him but leaned in, planning to leave a small peck on his eager lips.

Except you were met with an intoxicating kiss. His mouth was ready to devour you as his hands situated themselves behind your head.

“Kento-“ You tried to remind him of his promise as you pulled away but he just used his grip on your head to pull you back in.

“Little more.” He mumbled into your mouth. You let out of a sound of annoyance and he squeezed your ass to comfort you.

His tongue lapped up whatever was left of your lipstick as he continued to attack your lips. His hands pulled you impossibly close that you could feel his need for you through his pants.

After what felt like ages, you both pulled away. “Great, we’re going to be late now.” You said as you stomped away to your room to apply more lipstick.

“Come back!” He yelled out as he followed you. “We can afford to be a few minutes late.” He said as he entered your room and closed the door.

You had managed to shake the principles of the ever punctual Nanami Kento.

I was thinking about that one scene from How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days while writing this. You know, when Benjamin sees Andy in that yellow dress?

#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader

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inkedinshadows · 2 days ago

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The Path To Healing

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: A glimpse into different moments of Azriel's life: from his childhood trauma to the physical healing, from his struggles and his acceptance to the beginning of his mental healing journey.

Warnings: angst, self-hate, self-consciousness, violence and blood, mentions of torture, language, fingering (brief)

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: I might or might not have cried while writing some parts of this. I focused only on Azriel's hands, and I'm sure I only scratched the surface of what his trauma is. I'm nowhere close to an expert on any of this, but I tried my best and hopefully did it justice. @azrielappreciationweek

Pain was all he knew.

His eyes hurt from crying, and he desperately wanted to rub them, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because his hands… His hands…

More tears poured down his already puffed cheeks, and his cries turned into a choked sound—sobs that tore through his chest and shook his little body, his wings a dead weight on his back.

“Shh,” his mother murmured, her voice soothing, her touch gentle as she cupped his face. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, baby.”

Azriel didn't know how to believe her. It seemed to him like nothing could ever be okay again. He couldn't feel his hands anymore—they had been replaced by a blinding pain that reached up to his elbows. All he could see when he looked down was a red splotch, too red to be normal.

When his father had heard his screams, he’d called the healers. By then, it was too late, and the damage was already done. But his father had merely given his half-brothers a disappointed look and dumped Azriel in his mother's care, as if he had become even more of a burden than before. He didn't know what he had done to deserve it.

His mom began to hum a lullaby, but Azriel could barely hear it over his sobs and whimpers. She took one of his shaking hands in hers as gently as she could, touching his marred skin when strictly necessary, but even that drew a shriek from him.

“I know, baby,” his mother whispered as she began wrapping his hand in new strips of clean fabric. “I know it hurts. But I need to bandage it so it can get better, okay?”

Azriel tried to hold back his cries of pain as she worked. He tried to focus on her face and the lullaby instead, but he kept praying through it all—to the Cauldron, to the Mother, to whoever was listening—that it would be over soon. Just like he had begged and prayed while his half-brothers had burned him, but no one had come then.

Now, though, his silent prayers were answered.

“There you go, my love,” his mom said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “All done. See? Does it hurt a bit less now?”

He looked down to find his hands covered in white linen. The tight bandages applied just enough pressure to reduce the pain, even if only by just a fraction. He met his mother's concerned gaze and nodded weakly, watching as the corner of her lips twitched upward. It didn't help much, though, and tears still streamed down his face.

“Come here,” she whispered, gathering his shaking body in her arms and holding him close to her chest. “My precious boy. You'll get through this, Az. I promise.”

Azriel buried his face in her neck and cried until he was too exhausted to do even that. But his mom never stopped singing him an old Illyrian lullaby, rocking him back and forth as if he were a newborn baby.

She kept going long after he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Azriel was staring at his hands, at the ridges of his new scars. He knew he should be practicing, but he could only stare.

“What is it, sweetie?”

His mother came up beside him. His father had allowed her to see him a bit more over the last few months, not wanting to spend money on healers more than once every other week when they came to check on him and his progress.

Azriel turned his hands over, now looking at the backs of them. He still wasn’t used to seeing them like this. How much time had he spent looking at them? During those long hours in his cell with no light, he had thought about them endlessly.

Sometimes, he could swear the darkness whispered in his ear, soothing his mind until he finally fell asleep.

“They're ugly,” he said. His voice was flat, as if he was simply stating a fact. Because that's what they were to him—ugly, ruined, useless. Always shaking and itching.

His mother's soft hands enveloped his smaller ones in a gentle hold. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, meeting her tender, reassuring gaze. Even at his young age, he knew she loved him. His stepmother never looked at him like that, on the rare occasions she even bothered to acknowledge his existence.

“Your hands are not ugly, my child,” his mom assured him. Her tone was calm, but there was a new resolution etched onto her features. “They've just been through a lot.”

Azriel shook his head. “They're ugly,” he insisted. “No one else has hands that look like this. They're full of scars and cuts and…”

His voice trailed off as his mom extended her wings behind her. A twinge of pain crossed her face, and she could only unfold them a few inches, but it was enough for Azriel to see the twin long scars running down their length. He didn't know how she got them, but she once told him she couldn't fly because of them. He’d felt an odd sense of relief at that, knowing his mom couldn't fly either—that her blood, like his, urged her to take off and roam the skies, yet neither of them could.

“Do you think my wings are ugly, Az?” she asked. She still spoke with that soft tone, but it was now tinged with firmness.

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No,” he answered. “No, they're not ugly.”

“But they have scars. They're ruined and useless.” How had she known those were the words he used for his own hands? Had he said them out loud? “What are wings for, if not for flying? Yet I can't fly anymore.”

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. “Mom, no,” he said, decisive and unyielding. “Your wings are beautiful. You're beautiful.”

Her face softened, a smile blooming on her lips as she gently squeezed his hands. “Then your hands are beautiful too.” She lifted them to her lips, kissing each one. “Think of them not as reminders of pain, but of strength. You've suffered a lot, but you're stronger. You're healing. And one day, it won't even hurt anymore.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. “Is it really like that?”

“Of course, baby,” she reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.

He knew she was lying. He saw the pain on her face when she moved her wings. They still hurt sometimes. But he believed her anyway, because he needed to.

His mother let go of his hands and picked up the pen he had discarded just a few minutes ago. “Do you think you can practice a little longer?”

Azriel didn't want to. His fingers had gone stiff earlier, the constant itching even stronger now. But he didn't want his hands to be useless, so he took the pen from her.

Almost two sheets of paper were covered with just one word, repeated over and over. His own name. Easy enough to write, yet the letters were crooked and shaky, the ink smeared where his hand had accidentally trailed over it.

With a sigh, Azriel set the pen on the paper and tried his best to keep his hand steady as he resumed the exercise.

~~~~~~

Azriel really wanted to get laid.

There was no other way to say it. Every time he heard Cassian and Rhysand talk about a new girl they had slept with, he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to experience it too—to know what it felt like to have that kind of connection with someone and not have to resort to his own hand whenever he couldn't ignore his need.

But he had always been too shy to approach the pretty girls his brothers chatted up so easily. His hands did nothing to help his confidence.

Tonight, though, was bonfire night. Organized twice a year, it was held on the Spring and Autumn Equinox to celebrate the new season. And this year, Azriel had every intention of going home with a girl.

His brothers were laughing and pushing each other as they walked through the muddy streets of Windhaven. He wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying—something about their earlier fight during training. No, Azriel’s mind was already focused on his plan.

He would keep a safe distance from the fire, where no incidents could happen. But he would scan the crowd of Illyrians for a female who caught his interest, and when he found her, he would approach her, talk a little, and then ask if she wanted to go somewhere more private.

Simple enough.

He was a warrior in training, after all. He had seven Siphons. He was a Shadowsinger.

He had nothing to fear from interacting with girls.

Yet, he couldn't recall the last time he’d started a conversation with a female. In the ten years he'd been at Windhaven, it had probably happened only with Rhys's mother. But she didn't count.

Someone bumped into Azriel, and, lost in his thoughts as he was, he almost fell to the ground. He managed to flare his wings to steady himself, glaring at Cassian as he regained his balance.

“Sorry about that,” Cassian said, though his snicker didn't make him sound particularly sincere. “I've been talking to you for two minutes, but you didn't hear a single word. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbled, folding his wings behind him again. “Maybe you're just not worth listening to.”

Cassian gasped audibly, clutching his chest in mock heartache as a group of children sprinted by, headed for the square where the first booms of laughter and echoes of chattering rang out.

“Don't worry, Az,” Rhys chimed in before their brother could come up with a retort. “You'll get your first taste of sex tonight.”

Azriel shrugged off the hand Rhysand had placed on his shoulder. “Don't look in my mind,” he nearly growled, checking his mental shields just to be sure.

Both his brothers halted their steps and stared at him, twin shit-eating grins on their faces.

“I didn't,” Rhys said. “But thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

Cassian nudged him with an elbow, already teasing him about girls and first times and wingspans. With a snort, Azriel shoved him away and continued toward the bonfire, leaving the other two behind to push each other around, their chuckles chasing him down the street.

How they had guessed what he was up to, he didn't know. He’d been careful not to tell them, knowing their reaction would consist of snickers and jabs that he was in no mood for.

As he turned the corner, the square came into view. Just like every year, the bonfire stood in its center, rising several feet high and adorned with little homemade trinkets meant to bring good luck and a prosperous season when burned.

They would light it soon.

The square was already packed with people when Azriel reached it. Children ran around chasing each other, their laughs and screams echoing into the night. Warriors gathered in small groups, swords on their back and knives at their thighs or hips, not letting their guard down even during a festivity.

And then there were the females. Most sat together in a corner, chatting idly and glancing at the children from time to time. But some of them—the younger ones, the ones around Azriel's age—strolled in groups of two or three.

How was he supposed to approach them if they were always together? It was difficult enough when they were alone.

Azriel spotted Cassian and Rhys from the corner of his eye and moved deeper into the crowd, choosing to stand on the opposite side of the square from them. The last thing he needed was for his brothers to make fun of him.

Someone shouted a warning, and a moment later, the pyre was lit. Azriel flinched as flames erupted, pressing himself closer to the wall behind him. Even from this distance, he could feel the heat of the fire, warming his skin and casting a flickering glow all around.

He shut it out. He shut out the memory of what fire could do to flesh, the smell of burned skin, the screams and cries of a terrified eight-year-old boy. The shadows suddenly swirled around him, brushing against his arms and neck.

Past. Gone. Gone. Just memories.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, letting the truth they whispered calm his racing heart.

He sensed the girl before even the darkness could murmur of her approach.

He let his shoulders slump a little and slid his hands into his pockets, assuming a more casual stance. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him from a few feet away. Her head snapped around to stare at the bonfire as soon as she realized she'd been caught staring.

Azriel couldn't suppress his smirk. He had grown accustomed to females looking his way from the moment he’d hit puberty, but it still made him feel smug every time. Never mind that they didn't approach him—or that he never approached them.

But now, though. Now he would.

Taking one last deep breath, he took a nervous step toward her. And then another. She glanced in his direction, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, but one more step and Azriel was standing in front of her.

A few inches shorter than him, she didn't back away, her big brown eyes meeting his hazel ones. Her delicate face was framed by strands of wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders, and he stopped himself before his eyes could travel downward to the curves shaping her slim body. She was pretty. Beautiful, even.

“Hi,” he said, attempting a smile. He wasn't sure it looked right.

The girl offered a small smile back. “I'm, uh… I didn't mean to stare. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It's alright.”

For a brief, awkward moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. Then Azriel realized she was waiting for him to say something more. Right.

“What's your name?” he finally asked, silently thanking the little shadow that had curled around his ear to whisper the suggestion.

“I'm Teagan.” The girl's smile widened. “And you're Azriel.”

Caught off guard, he blinked. “You know me?”

Teagan chuckled, a clear and crystalline sound that eased some of the tension in Azriel's body.

Some of it.

“I've seen you around,” she answered with a shrug. Firelight danced on her features. “There aren't many Shadowsingers here, you know. None, in fact. You're one of a kind.”

Her initial shyness seemed completely gone now. Good. That made one of them, at least. Because if her words were meant as flattery, they didn't work. Instead, they only made Azriel more nervous.

What if she had expectations? What if she started asking questions about his powers? What if she would be disappointed now that she was talking to him? What if she—

Azriel cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind at the same time. “Thank you,” he said.

Too stiff. Too short. Not an acceptable answer. But he didn't know what else to say. How was he supposed to talk to a girl when he’d barely had any social interaction for the first eleven years of his life?

But Teagan must have found his awkwardness endearing, because she smiled, amusement shining in her eyes. “Aren't you going to offer me some food?”

A blush crept up his cheeks as he glanced over to the few tables laid with food in one corner of the square. People were already gathering around them and filling their dishes. Cassian was there too, shamelessly flirting with a girl whose hands were already wandering over his chest.

Azriel turned back to Teagan and nodded, a shy smile forming on his face. “I am, actually.” He cleared his throat—as if it could help him sound more confident—then gestured to the tables with his head. His hands remained buried in the pockets of his coat. “Would you like to get some food?”

It came out too formal, and his posture was too rigid. And simply nodding toward the tables? Rude. How could Rhys do this so smoothly? How could Cassian be so bold and smug?

Teagan chuckled again, though. She looped her arm through Azriel's and steered him toward the food. “You've never done this before, have you?”

He almost choked. It was worse than he'd feared, then.

“No, not really… I…” His voice trailed off, and he had no idea how to recover.

She leaned in closer as they walked, and Azriel became acutely aware of just how close she was. Her body pressed against his side, and he could feel her breath on his neck now. He wanted to take her hand, or maybe even slide his arm around her waist. If only he had worn gloves, maybe he would have dared. Though he'd need to find the courage first.

“Am I the first girl you try to flirt with?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Try. Not just flirt, but try to flirt. He was failing so miserably. Maybe he should just give up and leave.

Azriel could only nod, his face a deeper shade of red than Cassian’s siphons.

“I think it's cute,” Teagan said, her big smile lighting up her pretty face. “I'm glad you chose me to be your first.”

If only she knew what kind of first Azriel hoped she would be… but judging by how things were going, he suspected they wouldn’t get that far.

“I… don't really know what I'm doing,” he admitted, unsure why he was even saying that. It probably wasn't a smart move to reveal it, but it was too late to take it back.

As they weaved through the crowd, Teagan stepped even closer to him, and in doing so, her wing brushed against Azriel’s. They both gasped, and though she smiled sheepishly, he didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I just wanted to be closer to you. I really think you're cute. And I appreciate your honesty.”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still salvage this, maybe, so that his first interaction with a girl wouldn’t be a total failure.

As they stopped in front of the tables, he stepped back slightly to face her. “I think you’re cute too,” he said, meeting her gaze. He did his best not to sound shy or awkward. “You're very pretty.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He was about to offer her some food when a group of kids suddenly weaved through the crowd and ran by. Azriel heard them coming and tucked his wings tightly, but Teagan either noticed them too late or couldn't fold her clipped wings any further.

The children bumped into her as they sprinted past, and she sucked in a sharp breath when one of them brushed her wing. Azriel was quick to grab her elbow to steady her, and something fluttered in his chest when she smiled in thanks. But then her gaze moved to his hand, still on her arm, and her eyes widened—in horror or shock, he couldn't tell.

He pulled his hand back as fast as he could, tucking it back into his pocket.

Too late.

Teagan swallowed, and the silence that stretched between them hit Azriel as painfully as a punch to the jaw.

“So,” he said eventually, feeling beyond awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What kind of food would—”

“I'm sorry,” she interrupted, already taking a small step back. Her eyes darted to the pocket where he’d hidden his hand before looking at him again. No warmth shone in them now. “But I forgot I had to… do something very important with my friend. Maybe another time.”

Azriel stood there, watching her turn and walk away without another glance. The rejection left him reeling. His mother could say whatever she wanted about his scars not being ugly or horrifying, but he now knew better than to believe her.

His hands balled into fists, and he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Without bothering to inform his brothers—who were probably on their way to sleep with yet another girl, since their hands were perfectly normal and unscarred—Azriel left the square. He put a few buildings between himself and the ongoing festivities before taking off to the skies.

He didn't return until long after the sun had set over the horizon.

~~~~~~

Azriel wished he could say he felt at least a bit bad for his half-brothers as Rhys and Cass threw punch after punch at their jaw and stomach. But all he felt while watching the scene unfold was a deep sense of satisfaction, which only grew with every new groan.

When Rhys had told him he needed to talk to his father for court matters, Azriel had refused to go. He had no interest in seeing his father or the rest of his family again, and Rhys had understood, asking Cassian to accompany him instead.

But Azriel had followed them. There was no reason for Cass to be there too, not when he was no good at playing courtier. He doubted Rhysand's father had told him to bring Cassian along.

Hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room, Azriel watched in silence as his brothers—his real ones, the only ones who mattered, as far as he was concerned—landed blow after blow. He knew now this was the real reason they'd come here.

Cassian had been itching for a fight from the moment they arrived and he didn't do a good job at hiding it. Azriel wasn't sure Cassian even tried to hide it. Rhys looked more composed, the perfect picture of the future High Lord dealing with minor problems of his Court. But as soon as Azriel's father had left, both of them had turned to his half-brothers with pure rage in their eyes.

One of them had been either bold or stupid enough to smirk. “How's our bastard brother doing?”

Rhysand and Cassian had both snapped. Despite being a few years older, his half-brothers didn't stand a chance. A warm feeling of affection was the only thing filling his chest as Azriel watched the two Illyrians who had taken him in, taught him how to fly, and showed him what a real family looked like, beat the shit out of whom was supposed to be his actual family.

He didn't make a sound, using his shadows to conceal even his scent. They were all too busy to pick up on it, even more so now that the metallic scent of blood filled the air, but he preferred to be careful.

Azriel didn't know exactly how much time had passed when Rhys and Cass finally relented, their chests heaving and their knuckles smeared with red. They straightened their backs, Cassian’s wings still spread in a fighting stance. Rhys, on the other hand, looked more relaxed, but his cold expression betrayed him.

“Don't you dare speak of him like that again,” Cassian snarled. His voice was just slightly breathless despite the beating he'd just given. “Especially after what you did to him.”

Azriel fought the urge to look down at his scarred hands. Being back in his father's keep was enough to stir memories he had long tried to forget. Instead, he focused on his brothers, on how much they must love him to risk hurting and threatening the sons of an Illyrian lord because of what they'd done to him.

Rhys exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian, and they turned to leave, abandoning his half-brothers on the floor. But they stood with a groan, battered and bloodied, still as arrogant as before. If not more so, now that they needed to make up for their bruised ego after being beaten so easily by a half-Illyrian and a low-born bastard.

One of them, the oldest, flared his wings as if trying to appear more intimidating. “He deserved it,” he spat.

Azriel had to stop himself from lunging forward and burying his own fist in his half-brother's stomach. He wanted to make him understand, to wave his hands in front of his face and yell at him. See this? This is what you did to me. I was eight! How could I have deserved it?

But he remained still, standing in the corner with his hands balled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.

Rhysand held back Cassian as he tried to pounce on Azriel’s half-brothers. Cassian looked outraged, as if he couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't allowed to fight. But Azriel could see the expression on Rhys's face and knew his brother had something different in mind.

“You think Azriel deserved it?” he asked, his voice unnervingly calm. He looked a lot like his father now—aware that he didn't need to raise his voice or his fists for people to obey.

“Well, fortunately for you, I can't show you exactly what I think you two deserve,” Rhys continued, slowly slipping his hands into his pockets. “But I can at least give you a taste of it.”

Before anyone could move, a crack pierced the air, immediately followed by a sharp cry of pain as his half-brothers both collapsed to the ground once more. Their legs lay beneath them at strange angles, the bone of one protruding where it had pierced the skin. The scent of blood grew stronger as the white tiles turned red.

His mother would have disapproved, Azriel knew that. She believed vengeance should not be sought out, and that living well in spite of what had happened was more than enough. Perhaps she was right, and Azriel was as bad and cruel as his half-brothers, after all. But as he stood there, watching them bleed and whine and scream for a healer who didn't come, all he felt was a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that they now felt a fraction of the helplessness he had felt when they burned him.

Cassian crossed his arms, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Stop crying, boys,” he taunted. “It's not like you won't heal.”

The corner of Rhys's lips curled into a smirk. “I put a shield around the room. No one can hear you or smell the blood. I think I'll leave it in place and let you crawl out to ask for help.”

With a glance to Cassian, Rhys gestured toward the door in a silent command, and they walked out without sparing the two Illyrians another glance.

But Azriel stayed a few more moments. Just long enough to see his half-brothers try to rise, fail miserably, and fall back on the floor. When they began to crawl, using their hands to drag themselves across the floor, smearing their blood over the tiles and their clothes, Azriel smiled.

He didn't care if they were spouting insults at him and his brothers. He didn't care what kind of person that made him. The sight of his half-brothers crawling and bleeding delighted him.

With one last look at them, Azriel winnowed away, his heart full of love for the two brothers the Cauldron had blessed him with.

~~~~~~

It felt like centuries had passed since Azriel had last been this nervous around a girl. It had likely been over a hundred years, if not more, since he couldn't recall the last time he went on a date. Even longer since he’d had a genuine crush. Normally, he just approached girls, or they approached him, and things quickly escalated into a night of sex. But it was nothing more than that—just fucking.

With you, it was different.

He met you a couple of weeks ago when he walked into your little bookstore to buy a present for Nesta's birthday. You were so nice and radiant that he couldn't stop thinking about you, and he lost count of how many times he came, buying books he didn't need and asking for recommendations only to listen to you talk. And then he had finally asked you out, and your smile had lit up the whole shop as you said yes.

He was standing on the other side of the street, watching as you closed up the store for the day. Your dress flew around your legs in the evening breeze, and your hair was styled in a simple bun on your head.

Azriel smiled as you crossed the street. As usual, he had to hold back his shadows as they swirled excitedly around him. “You look lovely,” he said when you stopped in front of him.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, lowering your gaze for a second before looking at him with a smile. “You're not too bad either.”

He chuckled softly. “Thank you.” Offering his arm, he gestured to the street. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, and together you strolled along the Sidra, your steps unhurried.

Conversation flowed easily, and Azriel relaxed more as you talked about everything from your job to his preference for flying over winnowing. His shadows, which had lingered around his wings, vanished completely. But then you got to the little restaurant where he had reserved a table, and he grew nervous once more.

Even with your arms linked, your focus never drifted to his hands during the walk. Your eyes were either on him or your surroundings, making it easy to forget his marred skin.

Until you sat across from him and the food arrived. There was no way now you wouldn't notice his scars, which normally wasn't a problem—he'd stopped caring about strangers' opinions years ago. But you weren't a stranger, and you weren't just another girl he wanted to fuck.

You were sweet and beautiful, and he was drawn to you in a way he hadn't experienced in decades. He didn't want you to run away from him.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken you out to dinner on the first date, because now it was probably going to be the last one too.

Yet you didn't stare at his hands. You acted as if everything was normal, never commenting or asking what had happened to him. You carried on the conversation just like before, and when Azriel, hiding his distress behind a carefully crafted mask, asked you about a theater play you'd just mentioned, you launched into a passionate description of its plot and themes. His uneasiness slowly faded as he watched your eyes light up. You leaned closer over the table, so engaged in your story that Azriel found himself smiling and nodding along, only half listening, his worries about his hands momentarily forgotten.

Your voice suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, and you leaned back in your chair, tilting your head to the side. “What?” you asked with a soft smile. Before he could answer, you tensed and added, “I've done it again, haven't I? Rambling on about something you don't care about.”

Azriel shook his head, his hand itching to reach across the table and brush yours, though he held back. “Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “I do care. I asked you that question. You just had that look on your face.”

Your brow furrowed. “What look?”

“The one you have when you talk about something you like,” he answered, watching your expression grow confused for a second. “You have it when you talk about books too.”

You were quiet for a moment, and then your eyes narrowed slightly. “Azriel,” you said slowly, but your lips twitched up in a smirk. “Did you ask for all those recommendations just to hear me talk?”

“Maybe,” he conceded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. His heart fluttered as your eyes met, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

He’d forgotten having a crush could feel like this—like being a boy again. Only now he knew what to do.

He’d never been much of a talker, preferring to listen and chime in occasionally, but with you, it was easy. You had your own way of involving him, asking questions or simply waiting for him to share his thoughts. Even though you barely paused, Azriel never felt like you were hogging the attention. On the contrary, you made him more at ease.

After you left the restaurant, you went strolling through the streets of Velaris. Azriel was just about to answer your question about how fast, exactly, an Illyrian could fly when you let out a delighted squeal, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward a small bakery.

“Oh, I was waiting for this place to open!” You stopped in front of the window with a dreamy sigh before turning to look up at him. “I forgot it was today. Can we go in? Please, tell me you like pastries!”

Your enthusiasm was endearing, but Azriel couldn’t help glancing down at your hand still holding his larger, scarred one. You didn't seem to notice—or if you did, you didn’t care.

Your grip loosened slightly as you noticed the shift in his attention, but you didn't let go. “Sorry,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his face. “I got a bit carried away. Is this alright?”

He wasn't sure what to say. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. That you had grabbed his hand without thinking was enough to leave him speechless, but what you were asking now… it wasn’t just that you weren't bothered by his scars. It was that you wanted to keep holding his hand. Azriel couldn't wrap his mind around it.

You probably misunderstood his silence because you started to pull back. He immediately held your hand tighter, gently squeezing it, as if to silently reassure you. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “I’m just…” Not used to it. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“I caught the spymaster off guard?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Do we need to inform the High Lord?”

Azriel shook his head with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you before he gestured toward the bakery. “Would you still like those pastries?”

Your eyes lit up, and Azriel made a mental note of how much you liked sweets. “Oh, yes, please!”

“Then let’s get you some, shall we?”

You walked past him as he held the door open for you, a grateful smile lighting up your face. Your hand remained entwined with his, and for once, Azriel didn’t feel the need to hide it.

You did not let go until he walked you home and you closed the front door behind you, and Azriel had never felt such lightness as he flew back to the House of Wind.

~~~~~~

Azriel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands with a grimace on his face.

Someone had tried to infiltrate Velaris, likely sent from the Hewn City, and Azriel had been called to find out why. He could still recall the blood and the pleading whimpers. But in the end, he got the information he wanted. He always did.

At a cost.

He had long since learned to keep a cold expression, even in the face of the suffering he caused. He was used to it after centuries, and as long as it kept his city and family safe, he didn't care how cruel he had to become. Maybe it made him a horrible person, but his soul wasn't the cost.

The cost was his hands.

Even after all this time, being in the cells beneath the Hewn City was like being back in the cell in his father's mansion. He had to shut down every part of him that felt, bury those memories deep down in his mind, and remind himself that he wasn't a helpless child anymore.

He was a five-hundred-year-old warrior, and he had a job to do.

But once the job was done, and Rhys decided how to deal with the prisoner and the consequences, Azriel would go back to his room knowing he didn't have much time.

He would wash his bloodied hands, though he knew no matter how much he washed, he could never cleanse them completely. He had five centuries worth of blood on them. After they were clean, if he was lucky, like today, he had time to peel off his leathers before the inevitable happened.

The pain.

No matter how many times he’d been in those dungeons, no matter how many years had passed since he’d last been locked in his father’s cell, he still didn’t know how to stop the pain from returning.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first few times, and it was nothing compared to what he had felt while his hands were being burned and in the days after. But Azriel still gritted his teeth, a low hiss escaping from him.

He tried clenching them into fists, but the relief lasted only a few seconds before he had to relax them again. His fingers were stiff as he reached for the drawer, a fresh surge of stinging pain hitting him when he pulled it open. Shadows dove in before he could and quickly whisked up a small jar of white cream. They undid the lid, and Azriel felt grateful for the dark companions that had never once left his side now more than ever.

Willing his hands to cooperate, he scooped up some of the soothing balm a healer had made for him. It always took a little while for its effect to show, but pain was an old friend he had learned to live with.

The herbal scent filled the room as Azriel did his best to spread the balm over every inch of his hands, trying to ignore the stinging itch. Scratching would only make it worse, reddening his already scarred skin until it threatened to bleed again.

He shifted to lie on the bed, wings spread beneath him. He just had to endure the ache for a few more minutes before the balm took effect, and then he could try to sleep. He needed some rest after such a long day, if only to have a clear mind when he met you the next afternoon.

As his shadows hummed in his ear the Illyrian lullaby his mother used to sing him as a child, Azriel let his eyes drift close, flexing his aching fingers every few seconds, hoping for a faster relief.

~~~~~~

Things moved slowly with you.

Neither of you wanted to rush into anything and potentially ruin what you both knew could be the beginning of something great.

You went on several dates, and some ended with him spending the night at your apartment, snuggled up in your bed, which was too small for an Illyrian. Azriel didn’t care as long as he got to fall asleep with you in his arms.

But things had never gone this far.

When he came to your bookshop earlier, he had only planned to walk you home. You were tired from a long day dealing with customers, and he had to wake up early the next morning to leave for Illyria for a few days. Maybe it was the thought of not seeing you—even if only for a week—or the fact that you looked stunning in your simple dress, with strands of hair escaping from your messy bun. Whatever it was, Azriel wanted you. He needed you.

His lips parted from yours, both of you already breathing heavily. “I don't want to go home,” he murmured, his hands on your hips, twisting the thin fabric of your dress, wishing it weren't there.

“What do you want to do then?” you asked, amusement clear in your eyes. But there was desire there too, mirroring his own.

“I want to take off your dress,” he whispered, his fingers already moving to the straps on your shoulders. “Will you let me?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Take it off.”

With deft fingers, he slid the straps down your arms, and the fabric slipped off your body, pooling around your feet. You stepped out of it, and Azriel swallowed at the sight of you clad only in your cream underwear.

“If I had known we'd be doing this, I would have worn something more enticing,” you said quietly. There was no shyness or embarrassment in your voice, as if you were simply stating a fact. You did have a point—your lingerie was simple, something you wore every day. It didn't matter to Azriel.

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “You don't need to,” he murmured. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to kiss you tenderly. “You're always stunning, sweetheart, no matter what you wear.”

You hummed, a smile playing on your lips. “Now I want to know what you think when I'm not wearing anything.”

Azriel chuckled, even as desire coiled in his groin. A part of him wanted to toss you on the bed and fuck you senseless. But most of all, he wanted to take his time exploring your body, finding every spot that made you squirm and sigh. Only after he'd thoroughly tasted you would he bury himself inside you.

“Let's find out,” he replied with a smirk, already knowing that, no matter what, you'd always be perfect in his eyes.

He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, and as he tossed it on the chair, he felt himself harden. Your breasts were full and supple, your pink nipples so inviting that he wanted to wrap his lips around them. Yet as he lifted a hand to touch you, he hesitated.

The stark contrast between your soft, smooth skin and his scarred fingers made him pause. He had touched you before, but never so intimately. How could he do that? His hands had so much blood on them. With how they looked, it felt only fitting he would use them for horrible things—to hurt people. Not to touch the wonderful girl he was falling for. How could he be so selfish as to sully you like that? You deserved so much better than him. Someone who didn’t torture and kill for a living, who didn’t have a dark past still haunting him.

Someone good.

He took a step back, lowering his hand.

“Azriel,” you called gently. There was no sign of judgment or disappointment in your voice. You just wanted him to look at you.

Slowly, his eyes met yours. To his astonishment, a soft smile bloomed on your lips.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, taking his hands in yours. He fought the urge to pull away. “You can touch me. I want you to touch me.”

He wanted to. More than anything. He wished he could.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“Why?”

How could he explain? He never told you what had happened to him. He didn’t want you to pity him or, even worse, to drive you away. Selfishly, he wanted to keep you in his life.

When he didn’t answer, your fingers slid around his wrists. Neither of you spoke as you lifted his hands to your mouth and kissed each scarred palm. Azriel’s throat worked, his heart pounding in his chest. Without a word, you placed his hands on your breasts. You let go of his wrists, giving him the freedom to pull away if he wanted to. But your eyes never left his, and that soft smile never faltered.

Azriel swallowed hard. For a moment, he just stood there, not pulling away but not moving either. Your face was open and serene, as if his scars didn’t bother you, even now that they were touching such an intimate part of your body.

Seeing you like this, so calm and accepting, so soft and warm under his palms… his thumbs moved, brushing over your nipples. You shivered, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing it again, feeling the small buds harden under his touch.

As if sensing his impending question, you nodded slightly. “You can touch me, Az.”

Though he knew it was wrong and still didn’t understand how you could want his bloodied, scarred hands on you, he gave you what you wanted—what you both wanted.

He slid one hand behind your neck, pulling you closer and kissing you again. The other remained on your breast, kneading the soft flesh, savoring every small sigh that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss until Azriel’s control hung only by a thin thread.

When you pulled back, you didn’t give him time to lower his mouth to your neck. You grasped his hand, gently moving it away from your chest, and a wave of fear tightened in Azriel’s stomach. You had changed your mind. Of course you had. He should have seen it coming.

But instead of stepping away, you guided his hand down. Between your legs.

His breath caught as his fingers brushed against your panties, feeling the already damp fabric beneath his touch.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “Are you sure?”

You were smiling again. “Yes. Please, Az.”

He didn’t know how to say no. He knew he should have, that he was unworthy of touching someone so pure and lovely. But you had already pushed the fabric aside, and he groaned as your slick arousal coated his fingertips. Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers found your clit, drawing a soft moan from you.

The thin thread holding his control snapped at the sound, and Azriel let himself give in.

He pulled you closer, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers explored what they shouldn’t. At the first sign of hesitation or revulsion, he was ready to stop. But pleasure was the only emotion etched across your face, and he could see the desire for more burning in your eyes. Yet you were letting him set the pace, giving him time to accept your permission to touch you.

He slipped a finger between your folds, teasing your entrance before tentatively easing it inside, just a little.

Your hips bucked, and your voice came out as a needy whisper. “Please…”

Azriel hesitated for only a split second before pushing his finger all the way in. You were soft and warm, and you both groaned as your walls clenched around it. He couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but he couldn’t stop now.

As he slowly pumped it in and out, your hips began to rock against his hand to match his movements. He watched in contemplation as your eyes fluttered close and your lips parted slightly, a breathy moan slipping out when he couldn’t resist the urge to add a second finger.

“Azriel…” you murmured. “Feels so good…”

The sound of his name on your lips sent a wave of heat through his body. His wings rustled quietly behind him, and his cock throbbed in his pants. He pulled his hand away, relishing your disappointed whimper.

You hadn’t run away from him. You didn’t let his scars intimidate you, or shape your opinion of him. You weren’t bothered by his marred fingers touching you; on the contrary, you craved them inside you. So why, despite the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t worthy of it, should he deny you something you both wanted so badly? He wanted to taste you, to make you come on his fingers, and see how much pleasure they could bring you.

“I want to do this properly,” he murmured, gently guiding you to the bed. “Will you lie down for me, sweetheart?”

Your face lit up with a smile, and you slipped out of your panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you spread your legs, baring yourself to his hungry gaze.

As Azriel knelt between your parted thighs, he pushed every thought about his hands out of his mind, focusing only on the beautiful girl before him and the warmth settling in his heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel jolted awake, his chest heaving. He lifted his hands in front of him, the dim light of the moon casting shadows across them.

They were fine. Scarred as always, but fine.

He took a deep breath as he lay back down. It was just a nightmare—memories coming back to haunt him in his sleep every now and then. Even after centuries.

“Az?”

He cursed silently as you stirred beside him, turning to face him. He could see your struggle to open your eyes, your voice a sleepy mumble.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It's alright.”

It always was with you. You never complained when his nightmares disrupted your sleep. He didn't have them as often since you'd moved in together, fortunately. Sleeping next to you helped, but it wasn't a cure.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you asked quietly. With your head resting on his chest, you could probably hear the rapid thumping of his heart. He willed it to slow.

“It's fine, sweetheart,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your hair, and his tone was softer when he spoke again. “Go back to sleep.”

You curled up against him, and he thought you might let it go. But instead, you continued to look up at him. “You know you can talk to me if you want.”

“I know,” he murmured. You’d always been there for him when he needed it. You had been since the moment you met a year ago, and he was grateful for it every single day. He couldn't wait for your mating ceremony in two weeks and prove once more how much you meant to him.

You shifted in his arms, and then your head was on the pillow next to his, your face only inches away from his. You reached for his hand and lifted it up to your lips, kissing his palm, his fingers, his knuckles.

Azriel watched in silence, a lump in his throat. His heart still raced, and he felt the sudden urge to cry. He didn't even need to tell you what he needed, what burdened him. You always knew. Even before the bond snapped, you'd understood him effortlessly.

“Your hands are fine,” you murmured against his marred skin. “And so are you. You're fine. They can't hurt you anymore.”

Azriel closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. He buried his face in your neck, freeing his hand from your gentle grasp so that he could hold you tighter and press his body against yours. He draped his wings over you, unwilling to let go.

Your fingers stroke through his black curls. “I'm here, my love.” Your voice was soothing and soft, and Azriel felt like the helpless child he'd been five hundred years ago—needing reassurance, care, love. Maybe he would always need those things.

“You're here with me. You're safe now.”

He couldn't stop them, then. Tears slipped past his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks and dampening the skin of your neck. But your gentle caresses and soothing words never faltered.

“It's alright,” you whispered. Your warmth seeped into him, and he felt so cared for that even the last of his walls began to crumble. A broken sob tore through him.

“You're safe, my love.” You cradled his head against your neck, lips brushing his hair. “You can let it all out.”

Azriel did. You'd helped him through difficult moments before, but he had always held back because he didn't want to feel weak. He didn't want you to think he was weak. But if he’d learned anything from you, it was that crying didn't make him weak. That letting his feelings pour out through tears was better than burying them deep down for centuries.

So, he let them rise to the surface. The pain, the anger, the grief for the childhood he’d never had, the bitterness and frustration.

He had never cried about it before, but as he did, he could see it, for the first time in his life—a small light, a way out of the endless cycle of self-pity and hate he'd fallen into.

Maybe his mother had been right all those years ago. He was still healing, even after five centuries. He didn't know how much longer it would take, but maybe he’d reach a point when the nightmares stopped, his hands didn't hurt, and he could accept his scars. And maybe, one day, he wouldn't need his mother or his mate to remind him that his hands weren't ugly.

Azriel had no idea for how long you let him cry and sob in your arms. He had so many pent-up emotions, so much he still couldn't express, words he couldn't voice. But it was a start. And as exhaustion dragged him back to sleep, the weight on his chest, on his heart and soul, felt a little lighter.

Yet you still held him close, stroking his black curls long after he fell asleep.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

#azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel appreciation week #azriel fic #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #angst #fluff #fanfiction

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multipleoccupancy · 1 day ago

Text

Unaware that Mauve Verlaine did not in fact exist, the orderly sat Theo on the mattress too and then got to work on the worst of the pools of blood on the floor, throwing tissues over it for the time being, not wanting to leave the pair of them alone just yet in case they tried something foolish which he would not have put passed them at that point.

Theo was grateful as Mauve moved over a little and he lay down too, "Thanks," he said for the extra space to do so as he tried to protect his shoulder and watched the mysterious orderly go about his cleaning. He didn't know what to expect in the people apparently coming, he didn't know he was about to be offered a deal that would literally determine the rest of his life but he did feel sleepy as the blood loss brought him headaches and shivers and after a few moments he let sleep take him despite trying to stay awake for Mauve's sake.

The sleep didn't last too long, or at least didn't feel like it as the orderly tapped his feet to wake him up again. The room was clean of blood though the monster was still in the corner, apparently the orderly had been working hard but he was no longer alone. Theo jolted upright as he saw two men stood outside the door talking over files in their hands. He turned to Mauve quickly. "That's the man that arrested me," he warned her, pointing to the man with a moustache, afraid of what was about to happen.

The two young looking men exchanged a few more words before the one with a moustache, stepped into the room as the orderly promptly stepped out and closed the door. He looked them both over seriously and rubbed a hand through his hair just the once before he pulled up Cecil's now clean desk chair to sit in it opposite them both.

"Hello again Mr Beneventi," he greeted Theo and then looked to Violet, "And Miss Verlaine, we haven't met but my name is Inspector Gerald Davidson, you may call me inspector." He said, politely before looking over to the covered monster in the corner. "It is very impressive what you two have managed to do here today, really very extraordinary to have taken down a monster with a kitchen knife and a pizza cutter. I should congratulate you but that hardly seems like it will either be enough nor is it entirely appropriate." He turned back to the two teenagers. "But well done, you two, you should be really very proud of yourselves. There aren't many teenagers who can say they have done the same thing, it's a real badge of honour."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet doubted that anyone would be letting her go. Delta Green didn't care about her, in fact, they didn't even know who she was. Mauve Verlaine did not exist. Why would Delta Green bother to let her go? And the monster lying on the floor wasn't her ticket out of here, either. It would be hidden and covered up, no doubt, leaving her to be nothing but a delusional girl in the eyes of Dr. Heartland.

But that didn't really matter, because she was not from here. She had never fought a monster while she was camping with her parents. She had never been accused of killing a hiker. The only "person" who could let her go was the Horned One, and she hoped He had been sufficiently entertained.

She couldn't say any of that to Theo, of course. So, she smiled instead -a wobbly little smile. "Yes, me too," she whispered, "I'm sure they'll us both go. We're innocent."

The orderlies' words were confirmation enough: Theo would be given a deal, and if he accepted, he would walk out of there. His record would be cleaned, and he would be able to become an FBI agent. Violet hoped he would accept the deal. It was his ticket out of this dreadful place.

"We'll stay here," she assured the orderly, because where else would they go? She couldn't even walk. "You should lie down too, Theo." She scooted a little bit closer to the wall, so he would have room to lie down.

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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impactrueno · 9 hours ago

Note

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice beetlejuice #lydia deetz #beetleposting #beetlebabes #<- added for those who would prefer to not see this stuff but i didn't intend this to be a shippy post #spoilers: it's very one sided. but it IS all from his POV so you can kinda expect him to be...him #if you're a shipper who's just checking the tag then uhhh hi! i feel like i'm intruding lmao

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loudclan-clangen · 2 days ago

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So, here is the pitch:

AU where Siltsplash finds out they are pregnant around the same moon that Eklutna gives birth to the boys. (Rather than an AU where Owl doesn’t cheat because then we wouldn’t have Song, Dance, or Dash and that won’t do)

It makes the betrayal even worse because it’s even more pointless since they were going to give Owl an heir.

Anyway, meet Spindlekit

She will eventually go blind I imagine, but if Owlstar suggest she retire she tells him that he should retire for being old lmao.

Warrior name is open to suggestion

I love her and I’m so mad that she doesn’t exist now.

The fact that Song doesn’t have a little sister is a CRIME. This is what he was born to do.

Not only am I okay with it, I would love to see it!

You are so right, here's a flashback that was cut for time from Moon 28:

Erminepaw has had a crush on Songpaw since they were in the nursery together, he just never called attention to it. He honestly probably doesn't even register that it is a crush, he's doing that thing that kids do where they're like this is my best friend, of course I want to marry him that's how everyone feels about their best friend. Nothing out of the ordinary here! Just my best friend that I must be holding hands with at all times for best friend reasons!

Yes! This is Fox----, he has been causing problems since the literal day he was born. You've met both of his parents, but I would be a little bit surprised if you guessed them correctly. Parental drama is kinda part of his whole deal. He's one of the first 3rd generation cats born in Loudclan.

I have SO much advice, about the images, the recommended size is 1280 x 1920 pixels, that's always a little too short for my panels, so I try to aim for 1280 x 2000 - 3000. It still deteriorates them a little bit, but people can always click on them for better quality. Bigger text and variation in values also help for readability regardless of size. (value meaning how light or dark a color is. if you want something to stand out it's more important to change the value than it is to change the hue generally speaking.) As for grabbing attention, I would recommend making sure that the image you're trying to show is visible above the cut off for longer posts, posts with only text visible are a lot less likely to get interaction. That being said, the most important thing for the longevity of your blog is making sure that it's something you are doing for yourself. There's nothing wrong with liking when your posts get attention, but it's not likely to happen for a long while (I think moon 5 was the first time I got double digit likes which was three months after I started.) I appreciate all of the love that Loudclan gets now, but if I had started with that as the goal I never would have been able to reach the point of it happening. (I actually started posting Loudclan with the intention of proving to myself once and for all that posting art was not a viable endeavor for me, so... I'll consider that a successful failure!)

You CANNOT DO THIS to me anon- "the canadian city"- YOU MEAN JUNEAU? YOU MEAN THE CAPITAL OF ALASKA JUNEAU?!?! JUNEAU?!?! CANADIAN?!?! When I catch you anon- anon when I catch you-

Come here, anon. I just want to talk. I just want to have a word with you.

#loudclanasks #loudclan #clangen #loudclanfan #Moon 31 sketch is done but I've been working on a special little project before I start on the lines!#anon im not actually mad at you but I am completely befuddled as to how you came to decide that the capital of alaska belonged to canada #if anyone says they thought alaska was part of canada in the comments I will be committing crimes.#long post #cw blood #cw implied abuse #cw language

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aventurineswife · 2 days ago

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“That may be your parent, but that is my spouse”

Tags: @aloudice, Jing Yuan x Reader, Established Relationship, Family, Parenting, Gender-Neutral terms, Gentle Parenting, Respect, Soft Moments, Authority, Protective Dad.

[Inspired by]

The soft golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the grand windows of the Luofu, casting a gentle glow over the spacious room. Jing Yuan, as usual, had positioned himself at the balcony, gazing out over the vastness of the Xianzhou, but his eyes weren’t as focused as they usually were. His attention had subtly shifted, and there was a trace of amusement in his gaze as he watched you and your child in the middle of a lighthearted confrontation.

"Don't you dare try to sneak out again, little one." you said firmly, your voice calm but with an undeniable authority that only a parent could master. You stood with your arms crossed, watching as your child huffed in defiance.

"But I wanted to go to the garden!" the child protested, their small face scrunching up in frustration. "It's boring here!"

"You can go to the garden after finishing your lessons. Now, come on, let’s be reasonable."

Jing Yuan smiled faintly, his sharp eyes flicking to the scene in front of him as he leaned against the railing. From his vantage point, he could see the way your patience was slowly running thin. But it was clear you weren't losing your cool. You never did.

However, his smile faded as he saw the little one’s growing agitation. Their defiance was turning into something more—something less playful. With a sudden outburst, the child scowled, pointing a finger at you in irritation.

"I hate you! You’re so mean!" they shouted, their tiny fist shaking.

Before you could respond, your child made an impulsive move. In a burst of anger, they swung their arm toward you, trying to smack your arm in protest. It was a childish action—undoubtedly a sign of frustration—but the intent, even from such a young one, still struck a nerve. You blinked, surprised at the sudden aggression, but before you could react, a low voice interrupted the tense moment.

"That may be your parent, but that is my spouse. And you will not be disrespecting them like that."

Jing Yuan’s voice rang out, clear and firm, cutting through the tense air. His tone was not one of anger but of authority—an unwavering reminder of the respect that was due to you, no matter how young or headstrong the child might be.

The child froze, the smack they had intended to deliver now hanging awkwardly in the air. Jing Yuan stepped forward with the effortless grace that came from centuries of experience. His tall figure loomed with quiet command, his gaze soft yet piercing as he knelt down to meet their eyes.

"You know better than that, don’t you?" he asked, his tone still gentle, though the weight of it carried deep, fatherly disappointment. "Respect is something that should come naturally, not just when it’s convenient. Now apologize."

The child, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, lowered their head, guilt washing over their face. "Sorry, Mom/Dad… I didn’t mean it…" they mumbled, eyes downcast.

Jing Yuan nodded, his expression softening. He reached out, placing a hand gently on your shoulder in a rare display of affection, the gesture tender as if to reassure you. You met his gaze, the quiet understanding between you both palpable in the moment.

"Don’t worry," Jing Yuan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I’ll handle this. You don’t need to bear the brunt of their frustration."

You gave a soft smile, nodding in appreciation. "Thank you, Jing Yuan," you replied, your heart swelling with affection for both him and the little one. "But you know, they’re just learning."

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, a warm sound that lingered in the room. "Yes, they are. But that doesn't mean we let them forget their manners."

With a final look at your child, who was now quietly contemplating their actions, Jing Yuan stood up straight and turned his attention back to you, the occasional glimmer of weariness in his golden eyes. Despite the aura of wisdom and authority he wore like a second skin, you could still see the parent beneath it all—a person who was willing to move mountains to protect their family.

And with that, everything felt in its proper place.

[Aventurine ver]

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flameblade3 · 3 days ago

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I looked through the gateway home, a one way trip back to the life I fought so hard to return to. The demon even told me it could roll back the clock, should I choose, make it be like none of this ever happened, like I only left for a minute. I looked back at the motley crew that had accompanied me all this way. The people who talked so much about saving this world from some vile demon king. But, here he was, giving me all I wanted with no strings attached.

“I can tell you the truth of this world, should you wish to hear it. It may help in your decision.” The demon spoke once more.

Our wizard shouted in return “silence, cur! We shall not listen to another word you have to say! You shall fall here and now”

I was the fighter, the protector, the shield. Without me they were nearly defenseless. I stepped forward, and gestured for the demon to proceed. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a barrier between me and my party, sealing off all sound as well. He began to explain:

“This world is vile in nature. Powerful mages spirit away people from their lives and bring them here to serve arbitrary roles in a never ending story. People brought here gradually lose their memories of home along with their desire to return, but you were different. Your love for your wife and children kept your memories safe. I am one of the few remaining entities with the ability to free people from this world, return them home like nothing happened, that is why you were sent to destroy me. I have no desire to destroy this world, only to free the people taken here against their will. So allow me to free you, please.” The demon bowed and gestured to the gateway.

I looked back, my party furiously attacking, banging, screaming at the barrier the demon put between us. I felt nothing but apathy for them. I just wanted to go home. But… something tugged at my heart. There were others, many others, taken from their lives just like I was. I knew I wanted to help in any way I could, so long as I could still see my wife and kids again.

“Is there any way I can return here?” I asked

“I’m sorry?” The demon king was taken aback, “why would you want to return to this place?”

“You said there were others. If I can, I want to help free them as well, and maybe strike down these mages that have been spiriting good people away from their lives” I gripped my blade with new vigor, a desire to protect people I truly would care about burned within me.

“I understand, and am deeply moved.” The demon created a ball of light and guided it towards me. “That amulet will glow should I need your assistance. Hold it tightly in front of you and a gateway back here will open. For now, I bid you farewell, good knight. Return to your family, I will deal with your party.”

“Thank you…” was all I could muster. I took off my armor, piece by piece. Dropped my sword and shield at my feet and stepped over them, clutching the amulet tight. I stepped through the gate, the last thing I saw on that side was lesser demons taking my gear elsewhere, and was met with the smiling faces of my family.

You've been summoned to another world, "destined" to save it. Except you're a mom/dad who just wants to get home. At the end, the BBEG offers to send you home. No tricks those really are your kids. Now everyone is saying your selfish for wanting to leave. Except you're not selfish. They are.

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heesimp · 2 days ago

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https://youtube.com/shorts/-aU455EC9QI?si=wrPfARb8dHR9wrDY

I JUST SAW THIS AND I'M GOING CRAZY???pls can we get a short drabble on this cuz I need jay deep in my guts😭

jay you are the only man to have ever

You really should go home. It’s late, well past midnight, and the man beside you is someone who’s given you three mind blowing orgasms already. You’re starting to feel like you might be taking up too much of his space and time.

“Stay the night,” he whispers as he kisses up the skin of your neck, his wet lips leaving a trail of spit. Not that you mind.

“It’s so late, Jay,” you argue, even though your body starts to fold and cave into his touch.

You’re both naked underneath his expensive silk bedsheets that are no doubt wet and soiled from both of you. His toned chest keeps you pressed against his mattress and your breasts squish on his warm skin that makes your body feel like electricity is constantly running from your head to your toes.

Your legs are spread before him as he’d just finished coming deep within you. His soft cock rests against your messy pussy but you can feel him inadvertently pushing up against you every time he maneuvers to kiss your jawline and neck. You can’t help but subtly roll your hips beneath him too.

“I won’t let you go home,” he whispers into your ear before licking your earlobe. “Your pussy’s too good to quit.”

You don’t want to go home. Not really. But one night stands aren’t your thing and you don’t know if Jay expects you to act like you two didn’t have sex when you inevitably leave. The gears work in your head now that you’ve came so many times and have gotten some of that sexual frustration out of your system.

Remnants of the night come back to you all at once. Jay is someone you met a few hours prior at a stuffy housewarming party. He knocked into you by accident and apologized by replacing the drink in your hand with another flute of champagne because the two of to agreed that the party was nothing more than wealthy people showing off their wealth. You were just a plus one. Jay was invited by the host. How you two ended up agreeing is beyond you.

He took you home an hour later and kept you wet on the entire drive home before stripping you of your dress, heels, and panties on his king sized bed. His home is luxurious and his bedroom alone makes you feel like you’re some sort of royalty for the night. Jay’s expert tongue and fingers made you push over the brink simultaneously while his cock had given you another two orgasms before he eventually came inside of you too. Memories of Jay pushing your head back against the wall as he fucked your mouth gets you slicked up again.

Jay sees the gears turning inside of you like clockwork and pushes his body up to kiss your lips like a passionate lover. His semi hard cock ruts against your bare pussy and the squelching of your mixed cum is like music to his ears. The sensation of grinding is too good for you to pass up but you think you like hearing Jay asking you to stay the night.

“I’ll cook you breakfast,” he says against your lips before moving back down to the other side of your neck. “You deserve a reward after letting me fuck you how I like.”

“I might need a little more convincing…”

Your hips grinding back against Jay has him smirking against your neck, nipping at the skin. “You get to cum as many times as you want until I fall asleep. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jay pushes himself off of your body with his cock still resting against your folds. He puts both palms on the mattress beside your head and flexes his biceps to keep himself steady as he drags the side of his cock against your wet folds. He feels the cum sticking everywhere, remnants of your orgasms dripping down onto his balls until he push up against your asscheeks. Jay judges your hole a few times and it’s enough to have you tossing your head to the side when he comes in contact with your clit.

Without using his hands, Jay sinks into you.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Stay with me.”

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jongseong smut #jay smut #jay x reader #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #jongseong x reader #hard thought

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amazinglyashy · 1 day ago

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hi! i was wondering if i can request lads boys comforting their s/o bc their cat has passed. my baby passed today and i’m grieving really hard. thank you and have an amazing day🫶🏻

Moving this one up immediately in my box just to express my condolences. Your baby was very loved, I'm sure, and I hope you get through this tough time with care <3 I'm sorry for your loss. It's a tough time, regardless of who you're losing. My partner's grandpa passed a couple years back and I remember us crying, laughing and bowling, crying again, and talking a lot. Heck, I went to a craft store right after I heard the news and wandered around for two hours without any goal. I think I bought lolipop sticks. Take care love <3 You'll get through this. I know it's hard.

LaDS men when your pet cat has passed away

Xavier -

Since he lives so close by, your baby was his baby too, so he's devastated. Not equally so, he knows you spent more time with them, and you had them long before you had met him, but still- the pain exists.

The both of you are a bundle of blankets for a long while, just lying in the comfort and going through the both of your phones as you look for every single photo or video that has your cat in it, even just a little bit.

Lots of tears, but lots of laughs as well.

Everything is clear and apparent with every single memory the two of you go through- every little quirk your cat had, every little habit they had-

You both have a really nice time just talking about your cat, and any of the goofy mischief they used to get up to.

Of course you cry, and of course Xavier holds you through it. He knows how hard this is for you, and he knows it'll pass.

But until then, he's got you.

He's always got you.

Zayne -

He may be pragmatic to an extreme sometimes, but when it comes to grieving, he knows how hard it can be on the human psychic.

Not to mention on someone like you, who's already been through enough.

He'll definitely ask you if you want a hug, and if the answer is yes, he'll hold you, squeezing you so snugly and for so long that surely his muscle memory doesn't know a different position anymore.

Warm tea or cocoa, his old cardigan on your shoulders, pillows and blankets surrounding you on the couch, and just…

A lot of care.

If you ask him for any opinions or advice, he probably won't be able to give it to you. He doesn't want to risk anything coming out abrasive when you're still so tender, so he'll settle for condolences and anything comforting he can think of.

"I know it hurts. And you can try as you might, but the hole they left won't ever manage to be blocked out. All you can do is keep going, and hold their memory close."

Sylus -

Deep breath, it's going to be alright.

Loss is definitely something he's familiar with- and it's partially why he doesn't have anyone of his own. Mephisto may have a personality, but he's also mechanical. There's no way for him to disappear, because every bit of data in him gets saved, just in case.

But there's also no way your cat will disappear either, because Sylus has saved every memory of her, to make sure you will always have something should this day arrived.

He just didn't expect it to come so soon.

Doesn't matter what job he has, it's left to Luke and Kieran. He's by your side to care for you in whatever capacity you may need. He takes a lot of initiative, but he also asks you a lot of questions too. He doesn't want to risk making you uncomfortable, and he knows you're extra tender right now.

A lot of physical affection if that's what you need, and a lot of ideas to help you through it- whether he takes you out somewhere to help distract you from the pain, or goes through old memories with you to help you grieve through it, he'll do anything.

For as long as you may need.

Rafayel -

He hated cats.

Except for this one.

That was partially your fault, but also partially the darned cat's fault for being such a love.

He's devastated, both for you, and for himself.

He'll hug you- kiss you. Anything he can think of that usually cheers you up, even though he knows there's really nothing that's going to help right now.

He's been there, he's experienced loss. He knows what you're going through, and unfortunately- he knows that also means there's not really any helping it.

Someday when you're ready- could be in a month, could be three years from now, it doesn't matter at all him- he'll make you probably one of the favorite gifts you'll ever receive from him.

It's a portrait of your past baby, flowing full of life and color with eyes that sparkle almost as well as theirs did back when they were still around.

Almost.

And sometimes, 'almost' is more than enough to help ease the pain.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #lds #x reader #sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #<3

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heartfullofleeches · 13 hours ago

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thoughts

brie would go feral over virgin lust demon darling having like, a demonic form, preferably with big honkers

Yan "Delivery Boy" + Virgin Lust Demon Reader

[Very brief body horror]

"So.... A demon, huh?"

Friends tells friends everything. Their fears, their hopes, their secrets. That's how things play out in the movies, anyway. It's hard keeping up with people reaching out a branch of friendship when you seldomly have the stamina to keep up with them or even pick up their calls.

"Yeah! My mom was a demon and my dad's a regular old human.... Or- was it the other way around? I haven't talked to either of them in forever."

As skeptical as anyone would be in his position, Brie felt there had to be a pinch of veracity to your proclamation. Cuteness like yours wasn't a natural feat. His stomach was still raw with the flutters of anxiety retailing the night he showed up on your doorstep to be met with that clueless, charitable smile of yours.

"Oh, yeah?" Brie challenges with a small smirk. "Well if you're a demon, you should probably know what I do to your pizzas before I hand them over to you.

Brie's hands promptly fly over his mouth, every aspect of himself screaming at him for almost letting his own little secret slip through the cracks. Luck being on his side, you merely laugh off off his statement as you spring up from your place on the couch.

"You'd better not be stealing any of my toppings! I pay good money for every slice... Least I used to before all those vouchers you gave me... I can show you if you really don't believe me... I trust you, Brie."

Brie melts into the couch cushions, vulnerability and trust in your eyes welding him in place as you apprehensively fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt - awaiting his answer.

"O..okay." He stammers, tongue tied as the ceiling lights perfectly illuminate every one of your features that keeps him awake at night. "Sure, I guess... Show me."

"Great!" Kicking off your shoes, your limbs grow stagnant as your eyes roll back in their sockets - veins branching outward cross the whites of your scleras till they are reduced to a milky ruby hue. Your fingertips elongate, skin merging with the keratin of your nails as they sharpen into razor points.

Sickening cracks and pops can be heard as the bones of your spine snap to make room for more. Breaths piercing and ragged, your chest swells with each draw of air you pull in - testing the resilience of your formly loose fitting tee shirt as your bust ballons to your noticeable uptake in size.

Rolling your now forked tongue over flat teeth, your toothy grin still holds that realm of innocence as you gaze down at Brie.

"Well?"

Brie jumps as something heavy hits the floor - twin tails swishing back and forth in anticipation. Horror should have been the prominent force driving through him. Fear and terror is what he should have felt. Those were the emotions a coward would experience in this moment, and as a man who branded himself spineless for being unable to express his love to you in a normal and sane way perhaps he was braver than initially believed.

"titties...."

Cocking your head to one side, confusion takes the forefront of your expression. As your hair falls over your face, small, nubby horns can be seen at the bases of your temples.

"Did you say something, Brie?"

"H-huh?! Me?? Course not. You're probably just hearing the ceiling fan." He certainly didn't mention your chest- Nor was he seconds away from spilling into a feverish tangent about how desperately he wanted your massive breasts in his face, and preferably his mouth. That'd be crazy-

Brie peals out of his jacket as if it were on fire, balling and shoving it between his thighs as he laughs - shepherding his eyes anywhere but the dip in your shirt.

"Whew- Man, it's chilly in here! I should've worn longer pants! Hahaha-"

"I can bring you some blankets?"

"No thanks, I'm good! You're super cute by the way! Even more so in this form. Your tits- Fuck! Tails! R-really caught my eye."

#Brie my oc #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #demon reader

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zyafics-recs · 3 days ago

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reblogging comment review by @zyafics

i’m alive i’m here (i’m fulfilling my duties bc damn a bitch went offline for 9 days and is behind on everything 😭) ⬇️

You drifted to your room, collapsing onto the small bed. The familiar scent of home did little to soothe the ache in your chest. It didn’t feel right. It never did, only when your brother was around, but now, not even that thought gave you faith as you closed your eyes, picturing Rafe’s face. His smile, his touch, his voice – they were all painfully vivid.

ugh i miss ur writing sm i love how this scene felt “slow” like u were navigating this lagged moment with her because nothing felt real

As you both settled in, the familiar warmth of his presence was a small comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you were still here together.

i don’t give a shit the one thing i love more than romance stories is sibling relationships 😭 they’re my heart n soul

"He’s facing several charges, but the severity of his sentence could depend on his cooperation. If he agrees to testify against his father, the authorities might offer him a deal."

i fear he won’t do it 😭😃

“You’re too good, y’know that? Personally, I don’t give a fuck if he dies.”

jj 😭😭😭 leave her alone 😭😭😭

"Complicated? Complicated is being stuck on an island, wondering if your sister is alive or dead. Complicated is dealing with the fact that the guy who put us through hell gets to play hero for a day and suddenly he's got your sympathy."

screaming into my pillow ur dialogues r too good

A carbon copy of your mother, your punishment.

okay pause ✋🏼 not the thematic parallel to abusive and neglectful parental figures i cannot handle this

You were just trying to find a shred of humanity in someone who had shown you a glimpse of it.

THIS LINE EATS SO HARD 😭😭😭

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?”

my jj would swing at ur jj for the way ur talking to ur sister

“Because I want to!” You screamed even though you hadn’t meant to. Tears of frustration fell as you raised your head, “And as far as I’m concerned, I’m still my own person and I can make my own decisions.”

PERIOD!!!!

“He was good to me.”

girl *I* held my breath

Sarah never pushed you to talk, never demanded explanations. Instead, she just sat with you, shared a laugh or two, and let the silence speak for itself. It was a strange comfort; one you hadn’t realized you needed until it was there.

i love ur sarah sm mines a bitchhh 🙂‍↕️✋🏼

“No. Uh, a friend, I guess—” You were about to ramble, not too certain of what to say, but settled for, “Can you tell him Maybank’s calling?”

WHY DO I FEEL LIKE HIS PUNK ASS IS GONNA BE LIKE “i don’t know a maybank”

"I’m sorry. Mr. Cameron has requested not to speak with you," she said. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

YOU PUNK ASS BITCH

You screamed until your throat was raw, until you had nothing left to give.

no i didn’t (personally cannot scream LOL)

Six months had passed since that day

what the actual fuck

You had spent the afternoon alone, lounging in the living room with a half-read book and a broken fan that did little to ease the stifling heat.

such good imagery god i love this

Your words caught in your throat as you saw him standing there.

my heart is pounding omg

“You had six months.”

YIKES 😬

You looked at him, searching for any sign of deceit. His eyes were clear, more focused than you had ever seen them. “Why should I believe you?”

i’m shaking rn pls give a girl some respite

Rafe looked offended, eyes zeroing in on your lips before his gaze met yours. That's when you felt it again, “I never lied to you.”

i’m throwing punches into my pillow rn biting my teeth ohmygod

Rafe’s expression softened, and he reached out tentatively, his hand stopping inches from your arm. “I’m sorry, baby.”

go away demon 👹 @ gigi

It’s only then, when your brain cleared slightly that you noticed he looked different. His hair had been buzzed, his skin looked tanner than the last time you’d seen him, he looked healthier.

oh we’re in season 3 now ok

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

i’m literally scraping my fingernails against chalkboards rn pls stop this madness 🛑🛑🛑

Rafe paused in the doorway, his back to you. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried clearly through the thick air. "I don’t regret it," he repeated, his shoulders tensing as he spoke.

gonna die ok 🪦

You had tried so hard to suppress your feelings, to deny the depth of your connection with him. But this…wasn’t something that could be easily forgotten or ignored. You had been so afraid to admit it, fearing that acknowledging would destroy you.

You were in love with Rafe Cameron.

oh my fucking god u did it again

final thoughts — ohmygod. i dont know why i kept putting off reading this? i think a part of me was scared because the literal content warning was “aka angst” and i said no. anyways, first and foremost u done it again gigi. what i was so impressed about this chapter was ur ability to create such flowing, strong and long dialogues. the one between jj and reader i read twice because i can’t believe how naturally-paced this story goes through that u don’t even realized it’s chunks on chunks of dialogues. that’s such an incredible feat and knowing now that ur from europe and english is probably a second language? the way u select the right words at the right time is an talent i strive to have. i’m like re-editing in my head being like “would i come up with that?” and being like “yeah i would’ve ended it there (bc i don’t know how to elongate a scene) but gigi knew how to keep it going.” gigi, when i tell u that’s one of the most impressive skills i’ve ever seen in my life i’m so serious. also, the way you structure and keep a consistent flow of emotions. the beginning of the story is stretched out in a way that i cinematically imagined a lagged moment. yk how in euphoria where it drags a scene from one part to the next? like that. and then the ending, when i said i was shaking, i was truly shaking. u had my heart clutched in ur hand and u just SQUEEZED IT 😭 💔 the way i felt everything and was so scared and panicking and my eyes wanted to read ahead because i wanted to know what happens but i also wanted to enjoy the writing 😭 u got me doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out how to read 😃 i thoroughly enjoyed this to the very end and ngl, i am so scared to read the next chapter i think imma hold off for a min…

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - five

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst <3333333 for everyone <33; might need some editing bc im too tired to check everything but yeah

word count: 7.7k

The ride back to home was a blur. The plane ride, the ferry.

Everything.

Every mile that took you further from Rafe felt like a wound being reopened. The police officers tried to engage you in conversation, but your responses were monosyllabic at best. They eventually gave up, letting you stare out the window in silence.

When you finally arrived, the sight of the familiar streets of The Cut did little to comfort you. Your house felt alien, a place you barely recognized. The officers escorted you inside, their presence a reminder of the reality you were returning to.

“Your brother and your friends were rescued from a remote island a while ago. He was informed of your whereabouts an hour ago, he’ll be here soon.”

Their words barely registered.

You nodded numbly; your mind still stuck between the events that had unfolded just two days ago.

What kind of sister had you turned into? Barely phased over the fact your little brother was thankfully alive and well? You were supposed to protect him.

Sensing your detachment, they exchanged a look before retreating to the porch, giving you some semblance of privacy.

You wandered through the house, your steps heavy. Each room felt like a snapshot from another life. The couch where you and your brother used to bicker over TV shows when Luke spent days doing God knows what, the kitchen table where meals were shared and stories were told, only between you two– they all seemed like relics of a past you could no longer touch.

Things would never be the same, you knew that.

That must be your punishment.

A soft knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. You sat up, heart racing. Your body was still on high alert, every little noise sent shivers down your skin. The blasting of the gunshots was still deeply rooted in your brain. It hadn’t even been three days.

The old wooden door creaked open, and your brother's face appeared, bright blue eyes wide with concern. He rushed to your side, pulling you into a tight embrace nearly knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Holy shit,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “Holy shit.”

You clung to him, the dam breaking as tears streamed down your face. The sobs wracked your body as JJ held you like you used to hold him. It devastated you. It felt so disappointing. He was never supposed to be the one carrying the family burden, you were. After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back, wiping your tears. Your brother sat beside you, his eyes searching your face.

“You’re not hurt?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words, but all you managed to blurt out was a small “No. You?”

“No,” JJ nodded, lips pursed into a tight line as if he was figuring out what to say next, “They told me about the shooting.”

Your heart sank further at his words. You had hoped to avoid talking about it, at least for a little while. But he was watching you like he used to when you would act as a human shield for him, you couldn't brush it aside.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You reached out and squeezed his hand. "What about you? How did you get off that island?"

JJ let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“It was a mess. We were stuck there for weeks, trying to find a way out. Pope and Kie kept us sane, but it was rough. We finally managed to signal a passing boat, and they rescued us. But the whole time, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

You squeezed his hand tighter, guilt and gratitude warring within you.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry, JJ."

He shook his head vehemently. "No, don't apologize. None of this is your fault. I—I should’ve saved you on that ship, okay? It’s on me, not you.”

You’d cry again if you didn’t feel like your body was about to collapse, “You did everything you could. We both did. It's not your fault."

“The one time we changed places, and I couldn’t do it.”

"Jay—"

"I should have been there for you," He insisted, "I hated it."

It was your fault, not his. You pulled him into another hug, trying to convey with your touch what words couldn't express. The weight of your shared guilt and pain was almost suffocating, but at least you were together. You felt his body shaking, whether, from exhaustion or emotion, you couldn't tell.

When you finally let go, you took a deep breath, hoping to find some semblance of strength.

"We’re gonna be okay.”

JJ nodded, though you could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. "I know. It's just... hard."

"I get it. But we're both here, we're alive.”

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, it was a fragile peace, but it was something. The familiar sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside the window was a reminder that life continued, even when it felt like your world had stopped.

"Do you think things will ever go back to normal?" JJ's voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

If he only knew. The one time you managed to close your eyes and sleep you were plagued by nightmares of JJ finding out what you’d done. About you and Rafe. It made you want to scratch your skin raw.

“Yeah.”

You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, a mirror of your own fatigue. You knew you both needed rest, but the thought of sleep was daunting. The nightmares felt too close, the darkness too suffocating.

"Let's try to get some sleep," You suggested softly, though you weren't sure you could follow your own advice. "We both need it, ‘kay?”

JJ nodded, but you could see the wariness in his eyes. He laid down next to you, the bed barely accommodating the both of you.

As you both settled in, the familiar warmth of his presence was a small comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you were still here together.

The minutes ticked by in silence, the only sound being the rhythmic crashing of the waves outside. You focused on that, letting it be your anchor. Slowly, the tension in your body started to ease, the weight of the day’s events beginning to lift, even if just a little.

"Do you remember the first time we went out on the boat alone?" JJ's voice was a whisper in the darkness, a fragile thread connecting the past to the present.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "Yeah. You insisted you knew how to steer, and we almost ended up crashing into that sandbank."

He chuckled softly. "We were so scared. But you figured it out. You always did."

The memory was a bittersweet reminder of simpler times, a time when your biggest worry was navigating the boat, not navigating the chaos your lives had become. When you weren’t a complete fuck up.

Exhaustion finally began to overtake you, your eyes growing heavy. JJ's breathing evened out beside you, a comforting rhythm that lulled you closer to sleep. You wanted to tell him everything, but you couldn’t. Not without losing him in the process.

Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it was deep and dreamless. Completely void, much like yourself these days.

Morning came too soon, sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow over the room.

You blinked awake, disoriented for a moment before the events of the past days came rushing back. JJ was still asleep beside you, his face peaceful in repose.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake him. The officer who comforted you after the shooting promised to call as soon as he got an update on Rafe’s condition. And so far? No call.

You wondered if the hospital or the police had contacted Sarah. She was Rafe’s closest family, aside from Wheezie who was still a kid, and Ward who was a sought-out criminal. It made sense that they would reach out to her.

If you rang the hospital, they wouldn’t disclose a thing, you weren’t family, and it wasn’t like you could ask Sarah. She would know something was wrong the moment you asked about Rafe. It was risky.

The kitchen felt eerily quiet, the early morning light casting long shadows on the walls. You made yourself a cup of coffee, the warmth a small comfort against the chill that had settled in your bones.

Sitting at the table, you sipped slowly, trying to come up with some sort of tangible plan. You wanted to know if he was okay, needed to know, but every option seemed fraught with risk.

Your new phone buzzed on the table, jolting you from your thoughts.

You picked it up, heart pounding as you saw an unknown number flashing on the screen. You hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?”

“This is Officer Thompson. I promised I’d keep you updated on Rafe Cameron’s condition.”

You closed your eyes, thanking God for finally giving you some piece of mind, “Yes, thank you.”

“He’s stable,” Officer Thompson continued. “The surgery went well, and he’s in recovery. It’ll be a while before he’s fully back on his feet, but he’s out of immediate danger.”

The knot in your stomach loosened slightly. “Thank you for letting me know.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“I know this is difficult, but you should focus on your own recovery too. There’s a chance the feds will contact you, they’re building their case on Ward. What happened to you is, unfortunately, considered a minor crime compared to everything he’s done, so maybe you’ll get some peace. If not, you might have to testify against him.”

The idea of having to testify against Ward made you uncomfortable to no end. Reliving those moments in front of a courtroom full of strangers seemed unbearable.

“And Rafe? What are his charges?”

"He’s facing several charges, but the severity of his sentence could depend on his cooperation. If he agrees to testify against his father, the authorities might offer him a deal."

A deal. It was a slim chance, but it was something. You hated yourself for the weight that left your shoulders. He should be locked up, you knew that, back then you prayed for the day he paid for what he did and yet here you were, holding on to any possibility of freedom.

You thanked Officer Thompson again and ended the call, setting your phone down with a shaky hand. The coffee had grown cold, but you didn't have the energy to make another cup. You sat there for a long moment, staring into space, trying to gather your thoughts.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, and you turned to see JJ standing in the doorway, his hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Who was that?” He asked, his voice still groggy.

“Uh—Officer Thompson. He was at the scene the other day and told me he’d keep me updated.”

JJ tilted his head, his messy bed hair following suit, “Updated on what?”

“Rafe’s condition,” You replied, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. It was a half-lie. At least you were giving him something.

JJ stopped in his tracks, “And you care because…?”

“For closure, I guess.”

JJ’s gaze softened slightly as he walked over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting across from you.

“You’re too good, y’know that? Personally, I don’t give a fuck if he dies.”

You winced inwardly. "JJ, you can't just say stuff like that.”

He leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed. "Why not? After everything he’s done, he deserves whatever he gets."

You couldn't argue with that, but part of you still felt the need to defend Rafe. He saved your life.

“He’s still a human being, okay?”

JJ scoffed, shaking his head. "Barely.”

You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so angry, so defensive. But it made its way up your body until your lips were moving again, practically spitting the words out.

“He saved my life.”

Your brother stared at you like you were speaking another language, “Saved your life? Are you serious? It’s his fault you were there in the first place!”

“He chose to help me. And I can't just forget that."

JJ ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

"This is insane. One good deed doesn't erase all the bad he's done."

You reached for his back, “I know that.”

He pulled away from your touch, your fingers only brushing against his shirt, “Do you?”

His retreat felt like a knife to your heart. JJ had always been your rock, the one person you could count on. Seeing him look at you with such disbelief and anger made you feel more isolated than ever. He looked at you like you’d imagined in your nightmares, but the real thing felt ten times worse.

"I’m not saying he’s a good person. I’m just saying… it’s complicated."

He paced around the kitchen table.

"It's not sympathy," You insisted, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay collected. You never raised your voice at him. "It's just... I don't know. I saw a different side of him. Maybe he can change. Or at least help put Ward away."

JJ stopped and spun around to face you, his eyes blazing. "And what if he doesn't? What if this is all part of some twisted game for him? People like Rafe don't just change, okay? They manipulate, they hurt, they destroy."

“JJ—"

“You sound exactly like her.”

You didn’t have to ask to know what he meant. Suddenly your entire soul felt like it was being drained out and slashed into pieces.

You spent a lifetime hearing it, from Luke.

A carbon copy of your mother, your punishment.

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s exactly the type of bullshit she would spit out about dad, wasn’t it? And look where it got her.”

Memories of your mother flooded back. The excuses, the false hope, and the endless cycle of pain and disappointment. You weren’t her, were you? Holding out for a man who was never going to change, who would only inflict pain upon your life? It couldn’t be. You spent your entire life making sure you were nothing like her.

It wasn’t fair.

You weren’t making excuses for Rafe as your mother did for Luke. You were just trying to find a shred of humanity in someone who had shown you a glimpse of it. You stood there, feeling the weight of his accusation like a leaden cloak.

How could he think you were blind to Rafe’s faults? You knew them all too well. Standing there in the kitchen, under the harsh morning light, you felt exposed, vulnerable, and fiercely defensive.

“I’m not her,” You finally managed to say, your voice cracking, “I’m not defending him like she did.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “I’m not doing this with you, not right now.”

You turned away, your fists clenched at your sides as you fought to regain your composure.

He followed you hot on your trail, "Don't walk away from me.”

"I'm not defending him," You insisted, your back still to him, “I’m just trying to understand, okay?”

“Understand what? Jesus, Rafe is who he is.”

"And maybe he can change," You shot back, the words spilling out despite the tightening knot in your chest. "Maybe he saved my life because he wants to change."

"He's manipulating you," JJ retorted, his jaw clenched. "Just like he always does. You went through some traumatic shit together, but that doesn't mean you owe him anything."

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to face him again. Your head was tingling, the headache already forming itself, and you felt hot all-over.

“Some traumatic shit?” You repeated, “Are you fucking serious?”

JJ raised both his hands, tangling them in his hair in frustration, “You almost died, and now you're here defending the guy who put you in that position?"

The accusation stung. You felt the heat rise in your chest. You hated fighting with your brother. You were letting your feelings for Rafe get between the two of you.

He shook his head, disappointment oozing from him in waves, "Good luck with that. Just don't expect me to sit here and act like everything's okay."

You blinked away the dryness in your eyes, "I'm not asking you to. Can't you see that maybe things aren't as black and white as they seem?"

“All I know is what he's done to us, to you."

"And what about what he did for me?" You shot back, the words bitter on your tongue.

“And what did he do exactly?" Your lips parted to speak, but words continued to spill from his mouth, “What did you do?”

You gave no reply, unblinking, short breaths escaping you. His accusation lingered in the air, challenging you to defend the indefensible. The truth was there, clawing at your mind, but you couldn't bring yourself to voice it.

Not to JJ, not yet.

"I don't expect you to understand," You finally said, voice strained, "But I’m not turning my back on him.”

JJ's eyes narrowed; frustration etched on his face. "Why?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to evaporate. For a moment, the kitchen was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing and the instant regret that filled your bones.

Finally, JJ spoke, his voice low and strained. "Fine. Do what you want."

You watched as he turned away, his shoulders tense with anger or disappointment – perhaps both. His footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet kitchen as he stormed out, leaving you standing there, feeling raw and exposed. It was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him, and the aftermath left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Alone in the kitchen, you sank into your chair again, your energy completely drained. Part of you wanted to run after him, to explain, to make him understand. But he never would. None of them would.

Because unlike you, they weren’t stupid enough to sympathize with Rafe Cameron.

Sitting there, you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd crossed a line, one you might not be able to uncross. You stared at your hands, still trembling from the argument, and let out a long, shaky breath. What was it about Rafe that had such a grip on you?

You heard the front door open and close, a clear sign that JJ had left the house. Maybe it was for the best, giving you both time to cool down. You got up to pour the coffee down the sink, the sound of the liquid swirling away a tiny comfort.

You spent the entire day locked away in your room, avoiding any kind of social interaction, or the sun. Your phone buzzed again, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it.

You picked it up, expecting another call from Officer Thompson, but the name on the screen made your heart skip a beat.

Sarah.

With a deep breath, you answered. “Hey sweets.”

“Hi,” Sarah’s voice was almost unsure. “JJ and the police called earlier, told us what happened. Are you okay? I’m on the mainland with John B, we’re taking the next ferry back home.”

You closed your eyes, somewhat relieved that you wouldn’t have to face them yet.

“Yeah, I’m…Managing. I'm okay.”

“Good, that’s good,” There was a pause, and then she asked, “Have you heard anything about...Rafe?”

Had the hospital not called her? The question hung in the air. You had, but you didn’t know how much to share.

“He’s stable. The surgery went well.”

Sarah sighed, “Good. That’s good to hear I guess.”

“Sarah,” You began, hesitating. “Did the hospital call you?”

There was a long silence on the other end before she replied, “Yeah. But I…I don’t know. I just couldn’t bring myself to answer. I knew it was coming after the police called. But—Yeah, it’s just, it’s really hard.”

You didn’t know what to say, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re the only one not giving me shit about still…caring? I guess. He’s my brother, you know? And I want to hate him, so bad, but I can’t.”

"I get it, Sarah. He's your brother. It's okay to feel conflicted."

"Yeah," She exhaled heavily, "But I don't know how to deal with it. He's done so much harm, and yet. I keep hoping there's still some good left in him. I know there's no hope for my dad, but Rafe..."

She had seen him before Ward turned him into this. She still carried the guilt of reveling in their father’s approval, the clear favoritism that she never stood against for her brother, even though she could see her father’s fingers printed on Rafe’s cheeks.

Her words echoed your inner struggle. You understood her—how love and hate could coexist in such a tangled mess when it came to family.

“He was good to me.”

There was a long pause.

You expected her to hang up on you, to call you a list of degrading names, all of which you felt you deserved. She had suffered deeply at the hands of her brother— the same brother you had come to care for, despite knowing the full extent of what he’d done.

But you underestimated her.

Caught between your own anxiety and the dread of truth being exposed, you momentarily forgot just how compassionate and noble Sarah was. She possessed a goodness that mirrored your own—loyal, forgiving, and endlessly understanding.

Both lovers and fighters.

"I know, the feds told me about the shooting," Sarah finally said, "And I think that's what makes it so hard. Picturing him as the same monster from before was a lot easier.”

You nodded even though she couldn't see you, feeling a deep ache in your chest. "Yeah."

"I don't know what to do," She confessed, her vulnerability cutting through the distance between you. "Part of me wants to see him, to talk to him. And part of me wants to never look at him again."

"I think... whatever you decide, it's okay," You offered tentatively, not entirely sure if your words were comforting or just empty platitudes.

“John B disagrees.”

“Yeah, so does JJ.”

"I appreciate you telling me about Rafe," Sarah continued, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. "I... I don't think I could have handled hearing it from anyone else."

You felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry you had to hear it like this, sweetheart. I wish things were different."

"We all do," she replied softly. "Thank you.”

“Of course," You said, "Take care of yourself.”

"You too. We'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah. See you soon."

The call ended, and you stared at your phone for a long moment, the screen dark and lifeless, much like yourself lately.

You spent the next few days in a haze, avoiding JJ and the rest of your friends as much as possible. You’d only seen Sarah. Somehow her presence didn’t make you feel as nervous as you thought. It weirdly calmed you down. You’d always been close, ever since she joined the group, but now you felt like she was the only one who understood your point of view.

You knew Pope and Kie wouldn’t, and you couldn’t blame them.

The small house felt like a prison. It wasn’t until a week later, as you sat on the beach watching the waves crash against the shore, that your phone buzzed with a message. It was the officer: "Rafe’s awake."

Your heart leaped into your throat. You still hadn’t told anyone the full extent of what had happened between you and him, and you weren’t sure you ever could. They knew he was in the hospital, that you two had gotten caught in a shooting, that he’d somehow saved your life. That was it. But now, with him awake…You didn’t know what to do.

With trembling hands, you dialed the number the officer had provided. After a few rings, someone answered.

"Hello, this is St. Michael Hospital. How can I help you?"

You snap out of your daze, "Hi, I'm calling to check on a patient, Rafe Cameron. I was told he’s awake."

There was a pause, the sound of keyboard keys clicking. "Yes, Mr. Cameron is awake. Are you a family member?"

“No. Uh, a friend, I guess—” You were about to ramble, not too certain of what to say, but settled for, “Can you tell him Maybank’s calling?”

“Okay, just a minute please.”

The hold music was the only thing keeping you centered on the moment, each note heightening your anxiety. When the nurse returned, her tone was pitiful, and you knew then that you weren’t going to like her answer.

"I’m sorry. Mr. Cameron has requested not to speak with you," she said. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

You wanted to hurl the phone into the ocean, plunge your head underwater, and only resurface when the ringing in your ears ceased.

What the hell?

You had spent weeks on edge, consumed by thoughts of him, hoping he would survive, praying for him despite not believing in that sort of thing. You didn't have it in you to put up a fight.

"No, that's all. Thank you." You ended the call and stared at your phone.

Rafe didn’t want to speak with you.

You felt foolish, as if you were just now glimpsing the bigger picture and recognizing that maybe he didn’t care after all. Perhaps, on the island, you were the one thing keeping him grounded, but now? Now you were back to being a nobody, just a pogue.

It felt like everything you had shared was for nothing.

Had you imagined it? No, you knew you hadn’t.

Rafe had kissed you and touched you with the tenderness of a lover, as if you were precious and any rough movement might break you.

The moments you had shared, the way he had saved your life—maybe they didn’t mean as much to him as they did to you. The bond you thought you had formed with Rafe was, perhaps, a desperate attempt to find something good in the chaos.

The waves crashed against the shore, the sound a distant roar as you sat on the sand, a storm brewing inside. You tried to hold it together, to keep the facade of normalcy for a little longer, but it was getting harder with each passing day. This felt like it was the final straw.

Without warning, a scream ripped from your throat, raw and unfiltered. It echoed across the empty beach, a primal release of everything you had been bottling up.

The anger, the confusion, the hurt—it all came pouring out in that one moment. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the salty sea breeze.

You hadn’t cried properly in weeks.

You screamed until your throat was raw, until you had nothing left to give. The sun cast long shadows on the sand, the beach deserted except for you. Collapsing back onto the sand, you let the tears flow freely.

There was no one to judge you, no one to see you fall apart. You’d spent a lifetime pulling yourself together, it was only fair you finally got to breathe properly. When the tears subsided, you wiped your face with the back of your hand and took a shuddering breath. The tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by a hollow ache.

You were many things, but none of them were weak and yet...It was almost unbearable, the way your mind replayed every interaction, every look, every word, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that would have warned you not to get attached.

The sound of footsteps in the sand pulled you from your thoughts.

You turned to see JJ approaching. Your heart sank; you weren’t ready to face him after the argument. He sat down next to you, silent for a moment as he followed your gaze out to the horizon.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you expected.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry for what I said about Mom,” he continued, his tone filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have compared you to her. That wasn’t fair.”

You swallowed hard, the tension easing slightly from your shoulders. “It’s okay, JJ. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I did, and I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just... I don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t trust him, and I hate that you’ve been caught up in all this.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

He glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

“I called the hospital. They said he’s awake, but he doesn’t want to speak with me.”

Your brother frowned, his protective instincts flaring up. “That fucking asshole. After everything—”

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. “Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he’s right.”

JJ’s expression softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, trying to believe his words. “I just... I thought there was more to it. That maybe he could change.”

“People like Rafe... it’s hard to change.”

“Yeah.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for wanting to see the good in him.”

He spoke with such gentleness and wisdom. You forgot he wasn’t a kid anymore. That he’d also done his fair share of growing up way too fast.

You leaned into his touch, “I know.”

“We’ll get through this,” JJ said firmly. “Together. You and me, like always.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the beach, you and JJ sat there in silence. The waves continued to crash against the shore, a reminder that life moved forward, even when it felt like everything was falling apart.

Maybe things would never go back to the way they were, but you had your brother, your friends, and a resilience you hadn’t known you possessed.

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Six months had passed since that day.

Life had settled into a fragile semblance of normalcy. The days were longer now, summer heat pressing down on The Cut, making the air thick and heavy. You had spent the afternoon alone, lounging in the living room with a half-read book and a broken fan that did little to ease the stifling heat.

You were lost in your book when a loud, insistent banging on the door jolted you from your reverie. Few people would knock with such urgency.

The forceful banging on the door didn’t stop and you jolted upright.

Without thinking, you got up and flung the door open, irritation flaring. "What the f—"

Your words caught in your throat as you saw him standing there.

"Rafe?" You blurted out. You immediately tried to close the door in his face, but he was quick. His hand shot out, holding it open, "Are you kidding me?" You hissed, pushing harder against the door.

"Maybank—"

"If you don't get off my property, I swear to fucking God—"

"Wait!" Rafe's voice was strained, his hand trembling as he held the door open. "Just listen for a second."

You glared at him, every instinct telling you to push harder, to shut him out. But something in his eyes—fear, desperation, a flicker of the Rafe you once knew—gave you pause.

The last time you saw him, he was bleeding out and terrifyingly pale.

The last update you had on him was from Sarah, months ago. He had left the hospital and kept sporadic contact, reaching out to her only every few weeks.

You never asked her about his well-being or what he was doing; despite guessing that he was cooperating with the police. At least you hoped he was.

You were determined not to care anymore.

He leaned his weight against the doorframe, “You look good.”

You were going to slap the lack of common sense out of him.

You scoffed, not letting your guard down. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down, struggling to find the words as he scratched the back of his head, “I... I needed to see you. To talk.”

“And I need you to crawl back to whatever hole you just creeped out of, have a good day.”

You tried to push the door shut again, but his grip tightened. “Please, just give me a minute.”

“You had six months.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was— It’s messed up, okay? I’m still working with the feds. I was losing it. Still am, probably. But I need to explain. Please, Maybank, just a minute.”

You hesitated the anger and hurt battling against the small, lingering part of you that still cared.

Finally, you stepped back, letting the door open just enough for him to enter.

“Talk,” you said, your voice icy.

Rafe stepped inside, looking around your small living room as if seeing it for the first time, which you now realized he'd never been in your house.

He turned to face you, his expression earnest. “I didn’t know what to say. I felt—“, He took a deep breath, cheeks puffing, “Ashamed. I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, keeping a safe distance between you.

“Ashamed? You’ve done a lot of things to be ashamed of. You can’t just show up after six months and expect everything to be fine.”

“I know,” He admitted, taking a deliberate small step closer to you, “I wasn’t expecting that. I just... I wanted to tell you that I’m trying. I’m in therapy and rehab, trying to get clean. I’ve been going to meetings. It’s been hell, but I’m trying.”

You looked at him, searching for any sign of deceit. His eyes were clear, more focused than you had ever seen them. “Why should I believe you?”

He took a deep breath, visibly struggling to find the right words.

“Because you’re the only person who ever saw anything good in me. And I can’t forget that. I don’t deserve it, but I need you to know that your faith in me wasn’t for nothing.”

The vulnerability in his voice took you by surprise. You had expected anger, arrogance, manipulation—but this was different. Genuine. It felt like you were back in that motel room, in his arms.

You let out a scoff, focusing your gaze on the couch you were just resting on, as you shifted your weight on your feet. “Is that all?”

Rafe's eyes darted to the floor, “No, it’s not all. I just—Shit. I need to make things right. With you. I don’t know how, but I need to try.”

You took a deep breath.

Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him another chance, but the other part of you—the part that had been hurt and abandoned—was screaming not to fall for it again.

“You didn’t even want to talk to me when you woke up.”

He looked up, guilt etched across his features. “I didn’t know how to face you after everything that happened. I was a mess.”

“So you shut me out?” You snapped, “You made me feel like I meant nothing.”

“That’s not true,” He snapped back, head whipping up, then immediately softened his tone, taking another step closer. “That’s not true. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I was getting better for you."

“Don’t lie to me.”

Rafe looked offended, eyes zeroing in on your lips before his gaze met yours. That's when you felt it again, “I never lied to you.”

“Cameron.”

Another step closer. His eyes pleading with you to understand.

You were staring up at him now, the look on your face completely unreadable. You were waiting for an answer, but he had a feeling that no matter what answer he gave, it wouldn't make a difference.

"I never lied to you," He repeated, his voice shaking slightly. "I was scared and confused, but I never lied.”

You felt your anger rising again, every muscle in your body tensing as you tried to keep control. “Scared and confused? That’s your excuse?”

Rafe flinched at your words, but he didn't back down. “I know how it sounds. I handled it all wrong. I’m trying to fix it.”

“You think saying sorry and showing up out of the blue makes it better? It doesn't erase the months of silence.”

His hands reached out, his palms open as if he was dealing with a wounded animal. “I’m not asking for forgiveness right away. I just want a chance to make things right.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You spat, your voice trembling with emotion, “How it felt, watching you almost die. I spent days wondering if you were going to be—”

You stopped yourself, knowing that if you continued your voice would crack and the tears would start pouring down your cheeks.

You already cried enough for him.

Rafe’s expression softened, and he reached out tentatively, his hand stopping inches from your arm. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You took a step back, putting more distance between you, needing the space to think clearly. “I needed you to be sorry six months ago.”

It’s only then, when your brain cleared slightly that you noticed he looked different. His hair had been buzzed, his skin looked tanner than the last time you’d seen him, he looked healthier.

Rafe noticed your eyes wandering to his head and ran a hand through his short hair, a hint of a self-conscious smile flickering across his lips. “Yeah, I uh, made some changes. Trying to start over, I guess.”

You nodded slightly, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice steadier now.

“I’m happy for you, but I can’t do this.”

“Pretty—"

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you cut him off, “I feel guilty enough as it is around everyone else.”

“I told Sarah.”

His words hit you like a punch to your gut.

“What?”

“About us.”

You felt your stomach drop and your vision narrow, the world tilting sideways as the reality of what he just said sank in. “You what?”

“I told her.”

“You absolute fucking—” You hissed, your voice rising without warning, “Are you serious?!”

“I thought it was the right thing to do,” His tone faltered to one that could’ve fallen on deaf ears if not attentive enough. “I needed someone to talk to, and she’s…my sister.”

“You thought it was the right thing to do?” You were shouting now, unable to contain your anger. “You think spilling everything to Sarah was the right thing to do? Did you ever consider how that might affect me? Or her?”

Rafe flinched, taking a step back. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Of course you didn’t,” You nearly growled, pacing the small living room. “You never think about anyone but yourself, do you?”

“Listen— “ He opened his mouth undoubtedly to fire back with another half-assed apology - but you barreled forward, letting the months of bottled resentment continue to burst open.

“You’re so selfish.”

“She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone,” His throat bobbed in an audible gulp, “It’s okay.”

“You really believe that?” You stopped pacing and turned to face him, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “This is too much for her to keep to herself. It’ll eat away at her until she tells someone. And when that happens, my life here is over.”

Rafe looked stricken, his face pale. “I just—I needed someone to understand what I’m going through.”

For the first time, he took the time to explain what was going on in his head instead of letting his frustrations take over and kissing you.

“And what about what I’m going through?” You demanded. “Did you ever stop to think about that? I’ve been trying to move on, to rebuild my life, and you just waltz back in and blow everything up.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You spotted his sun-kissed freckles. They wouldn’t be noticeable if you hadn’t looked at him so closely before.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” Bitterness began to overpower the pit of your heaving chest, “Sorry doesn’t make it go away. You can’t just undo what you’ve done.”

“I know,” One shaky hand scrubbed over his face, refusing to meet your wide-eyed stare., “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I swear.”

“Make it right? You can’t make this right, Rafe.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m trying, pretty. I really am.”

You felt a smidge of sympathy despite your anger. You could see the pain and desperation in his eyes, the same pain and desperation you had felt for the past six months. But that didn’t change the fact that he left you hanging for so long.

“I need you to leave,” you said finally, your voice cold and distant.

You expected him to put up a fight, to lash out, hide his emotions with empty threats and petty names. But he didn’t.

Instead, he nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to leave. You watched him go in silence.

Part of you wanted to run after him, to give him another chance, to believe that he could change. But another part—the part that had been wounded and left to heal on its own—knew that it wasn’t that simple.

You had to protect yourself, even if it meant shutting him out for good.

Rafe paused in the doorway, his back to you. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried clearly through the thick air. "I don’t regret it," he repeated, his shoulders tensing as he spoke.

You blinked, taken aback. "What?"

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the raw honesty in his eyes. "I don’t regret what happened. Between us. I regret how I handled it, how I hurt you, but I don’t regret feeling something real for once."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the suffocating heat seemed to dissipate, replaced by a cold clarity. You crossed your arms tighter around yourself, trying to hold onto your anger, your resolve. But his words had hit a nerve, bringing back memories you’d tried so hard to bury.

You looked away, unable to look at him, "It doesn’t change anything."

"I know.”

With that, he turned and walked out the door, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you standing there. The room felt emptier than it hand in months as you leaned your forehead against the cool wood over the door.

You pushed away from the door, needing something to distract yourself.

You picked up your book, but the words blurred on the page. You tossed it aside, your thoughts too chaotic to focus. Instead, you paced the small living room, replaying the conversation in your mind.

You eventually collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. You did the right thing, so why did it hurt so bad?

You felt like a wound had been reopened, and you hated him for it.

But you hated yourself more for letting him get to you. The hours dragged on, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows through the windows. You tried to lose yourself in anything—TV, reading, cleaning—but nothing could shake the gnawing feeling of unresolved problems that clung to you.

You only saw Rafe's face, his desperate eyes, his trembling hands.

You remembered the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice when he was vulnerable. The memories were too real, too persistent. You couldn't bring yourself to explain it to yourself. Your eyes begin to itch, warning you to think of something else.

Anything else but Rafe.

Was this heartbreak? No—it couldn't be.

You weren't in love with Rafe Cameron.

At least, you didn't think you were.

You had never allowed yourself to consider it, to dwell on what you felt for him. But now, in the stillness of your small living room…it was different. You never had a good parental figure to teach you these things.

All you knew was destruction, violence, and heartbreak. And although you’d done pretty well for yourself, all things considered, this was new to you.

The thought hit you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and inescapable.

You were in love with Rafe Cameron.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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