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zhongrin · 3 months ago

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when your heart screams within your sealed lips…

(…. i hope i can at least be there to hold you.)

featuring... ❥ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, jing yuan, blade

involves... ❥ gn!reader, deeply personal blurbs (very self-indulgent), hurt with comfort (vague, with mentions of someone/people wronging/impacting you badly), probably ooc characters, mentions/implied retaliation by the characters

gilded golden lined fingers of a god dethroned gently weaves through your hair. for once, no words fell from your beloved’s lips, for zhongli knew that despite the silent night and the faux tranquility blanketing your dark bedchambers, your heart was screaming and writhing in pain.

the past few days, his amber eyes had followed you as you stumble and trudge through the thick mud of this whole mess you found yourself entrenched in. you may not realize his vigil over you, and countless times he had wished with all his heart, dreaming that you would sit with him to verbalize your troubles, seek his counsel, sought his aid - anything. anything but this foolish game of pretend, because he is not sure until when he can tolerate ignoring the vermin who has given you such unjust treatment.

perhaps in the morning the sky will darken and his wrath will descend upon the land you both walk on towards those who had wronged you. but for now, his anger simmers, bubbles, forges itself silently within his chest, tempered with the eons of expertise of molding metal. for now, he holds you like he’s holding a shattered bone china, like a craftsman appraising its damage before reshaping it with molten gold.

the price of violating the sanctity of a contract is steep, but the price of breaking your trust and betraying your kindness is steeper.

“you need not worry, my love. if there are moments where a god - retired as he may be - must pass judgment, it is now. a contract has been breached… and consequences shall follow.”

there aren’t too many things that can ruffle al haitham’s feathers. but seeing your eyes clouded with hurt and rimmed by veins of reds while you force a trembling smile on your lips as you welcomed him back home… it most definitely exceeds the annoyance from being forced to work overtime on a friday.

he’s glad he’s gotten used to reading you like a familiar book; your form fits snugly within his arms and your weight rests just right on top of his lap, not unlike the way a familiar book fits within his hand and weighs comfortingly in his hold.

“do you want to talk about it?” his comforting skills are a mixed copy of what he remembered from his grandmother and your own actions, carefully threaded and analyzed to fit the situations and the various variables within the scope of the equation. it’s methodical, logical, yet comforting all the same; it’s uniquely your al haitham.

whether you agree to open up to him or not, he’ll eventually find out. researching is one of his strongest skills after all, and when it comes to investigations, he has two strong cards to play: kaveh knows about almost all the gossips circulating in the city, and cyno is a strong advocate of justice who would be able to move independently given a whiff of the possibility of committed transgressions. if they wouldn’t do it for him, he’s sure they would at least feel empathetic towards you.

and if this perpetrator still insists on weaseling their way out of the law… well, he had been looking for a way to dispose that forbidden knowledge capsule, anyway.

wriothesley has never looked forward to arresting and 'welcoming' a criminal so much before.

impartiality is expected when you work in such field, but the agony you’ve gone through and he’d witnessed firsthand due to such heinous individual had been permanently etched in his brain. with each silent tears falling down your cheeks, it adds yet another scar upon his heart. he never fails to hold and comfort you every night, tries his very best to piece you together the best he can. but with how broken you were, he fears that you’ll never be the same.

he never wanted you to obtain a wound that cut so deep, it would leave a mark on your skin or your psyche. he’d take the bullet for you if he could. but with your insistence of dealing with the matter alone at first, he could only watch as you were ripped, torn, beaten.

he’s never felt like he wanted to utterly destroy a man as he catches your falling form and cradles it close to his chest.

so could you blame him when he personally goes on his way to make sure his newest, permanent prisoner feels absolutely unwelcome inside the fortress sunk deep beneath the waters?

after all, when the duke wants a criminal under his jurisdiction to suffer a fate worse than death, he needs no justification.

the word “guilty” had always tasted bitter on his tongue, like a sour, days-old water which had gone through several harsh conditions and became contaminated with environmental causes.

this particular “guilty”, however, he had said with the most conviction, with no pity nor sympathy, and its palate was of the freshest spring water of an untouched stream in the very nation he’s looking after. if the audience observes that the iudex looked colder and spoke with a voice so calm it’s almost obvious he was trying to conceal his fury, they did not say anything. it’s always been clearer than the reflection in the fountain of lucine; the fact that neuvilette holds you in the highest regard as his spouse.

so when you’ve been wronged?

naturally, when the opportunity for him to deliver justice on your behalf comes to him on a silver platter, he takes it with the most gratuity and takes the chance to personally hands down the verdict.

guilty, for the nights he had to hold you to sleep, for the mornings he had to assure you that you could go through the day, for the afternoons he had to check in to make sure you were busy and not wallowing in the murky depths of negative thoughts. guilty, for all the tears, the frustration, the mental strain, the self-hatred, and the bleeding wounds they’d inflicted upon your heart.

guilty, and for once, he finds himself wishing he could have handed down a death penalty.

“what’s troubling you?”

your husband loves his cuddles as much as his feline companions, and he’s just as sensitive to the changes in your mood as they do. with mimi sleeping and being your makeshift pillow, your cat curled right behind you, the fuzzy blanket pulled up to your waist, and your jing yuan holding you close as he continuously strokes your hair… if your heart weren’t so weary, it would have been a peaceful afternoon.

“you know you can tell this old man anything, yes, dearest?” a playful hum and a lazy grin rouses you out of your miserable thoughts, the muted colors filling with the warming golds of his eyes.

unlike inanimate chess pieces on a board, humans may veer off course from their planned routes and therefore proves finicky to handle to some. but to jing yuan, it is but one of the facets that makes human, human. so when you stubbornly try to avoid talking about it, he does not press further, nor does he feel anger.

time and time again, you’ve proven yourself stronger than steel; countless times you’ve proven you didn’t need his help, and it’s always reminded him of how resilient one could be in the face of adversity. still, he can’t help but fret whenever he’s deprived of witnessing the skips in your steps and the pleasant ring of your laughter. he may be patient, but he knows everything has its limits - both your tolerance and his fortitude, that is.

the general sighs and somewhat begrudgingly decides to give you a few more days. he’s gotten used to uprooting weeds growing in his garden after all these years; this, too, will not be any different.

“who did this to you?”

mara is truly a strange phenomenon.

while there are several things that could trigger his condition, if there’s one absolute causation which could decisively result in a mara-struck blade leading a whole carnage, it was seeing pearls of tears drop from your sullen eyes.

for a moment, he thinks it’s his fault. he’s not the best lover, and he has no doubt that you deserve better - but the moment you admitted you wanted him, broken and horribly disfigured as he was, you’ve filled the cracks in his being with you; you’re part of him, now. and he can’t bring himself to ever let go - but as you look into his eyes with the exhaustion of a broken soldier enduring one too many battles, he knows.

he knows he needs to fight a war you dare not tread.

“all i need is a name.”

through the desperation, there’s a hint of pleading in his voice. the hands cradling your cheeks are bandaged and bloodied with the blood of a billion lives, and he’s ever so grateful that you never flinch away from them. red spider lilies blooms ominously behind his gaze, lycorine bubbling like acid in his veins as he commits the memory of your lips forming the syllables, letter by letter. he’s not good at comforting people, so he does the best he could do: stay as close as possible as you rest against him, eventually falling into a tired slumber. blade carefully tucks you in, habitually presses a chaste kiss on your forehead, and sets off when you’re asleep.

if he’s already just a tool anyway, he would rather become the blade that pierces your enemies’ heart for your sake.

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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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It's a Love Story - Chapter 3

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:

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.

The shadows unceremoniously dumped a whole stack of Sellyn Drake Novels on Azriel’s desk.

Azriel eyed the stack of novels dubiously, wondering how in the Mother's blessed name the Shadows had gotten their hands on these. Or why.

But they stayed silent, clearly waiting for him to outright demand an answer. *Why?* he asked with a long suffering sigh. *What's this about?*

No response.

Azriel reached for one of the books, pulling it off the top of the stack and flipping it over. And immediately he regretted that decision. The cover was…certainly something.

A shirtless man holding a rather skimpily dressed woman up against a wall.

Azriel let out a long, long sigh.

*You need to read the books, Master,* the shadows told him seriously.

Azriel stared at his shadows, then at the books, then at his shadows. *You cannot possibly be serious.* What exactly was this supposed to give him?

He flipped it over, reading the synopsis.

When Lady Eleanor is forced into an unwanted marriage, she despairs—until the enigmatic Sir Tristan, a battle-scarred knight with a fearsome reputation, crashes into her life. Bound by a promise to protect her, Tristan whisks Eleanor away from her gilded prison, thrusting them into a wild escape across enemy lands.

Haunted by his past and wary of love, Tristan tries to keep Eleanor at arm's length. But as they face danger together, a fierce passion grows between them, tempting them to trust in a love that could heal even the deepest wounds.

What the fuck.

*We are, Master.* The Shadows told him, sounding as earnest as they possibly could.

He opened the book. Titled The Dark Knight’s Desire, flicking through the pages. Was this…a first edition?

*It’s important!* The shadows insisted. *You know…to brush up on these flirting skills of yours.*

Azriel shot the shadows an unamused look. *I can flirt perfectly well,* he protested.

*You most certainly cannot.* The Shadows deadpanned. *It’s research! Read them for her!*

*Read them for…* Azriel started, his voice trailing off.

*You found...* he trailed off weakly. They had found a female for him?

The shadows swirled around him almost playfully. *Of course we did,* they said innocently. *We told you we would, didn’t we?*

They were working quickly. It had only been weeks since he had agreed to let them find him a wife.

*You did,* Azriel said slowly, but his mind was working fast, so fast, trying to wrap around the idea that his Shadows were trying to help him find a wife…and more importantly, that they had found a female they thought he would find suitable.

*Where did you find her?* he asked, carefully.

*Here in Velaris!* the shadows answered brightly.

*Here?* Azriel asked, his surprise obvious. The shadows had found...a female...here in Velaris? Someone who was compatible with him? And they wanted him to read...what were these again? Sellyn Drake novels? So he would know how to best romance this female?

*Read the books, Master,* the shadows said with a sigh. So he did.

And that was how Azriel spent his next few hours. Reading a book, and blushing like some sort of adolescent boy when certain…particularly intimate scenes came around. The Shadows cackled beside him the entire time.

How the fuck did Nesta do this with a straight face?!?

Azriel had no idea, but by the Mother, he was never going to ask her. Ever. He would just die of embarrassment.

Though he needed to admit...he actually quite liked it.

The novels, that is. The…intimate scenes. Azriel liked them. A lot. Not even the...smut, like Nesta called it...no, he liked the love story. He liked the two people that came together and would do everything for each other...the falling in love part. He liked that.

But the Shadows were probably never going to let him live this down. Azriel did find comfort in a single thought, though. Whoever this possible future partner was, she was never going to know about this. There was no way in hell he would let her find out that he read smutty books to brush up his flirting skills.

But even that did not stop the nagging thought in Azriel's head, one that made him hesitate, and doubt himself, and doubt the Shadows' judgment. "What if..." he said softly, hesitantly. "What if she just...doesn't like me?"

He knew he had some...rough edges, to put it kindly. And he had his own...troubles. His own...insecurities. Some of the things he kept to himself, so many of his...issues. The shadows knew of them all, of course…There were many nights they stayed up with him, soothing him when the ghosts in his mind became a little too loud, a little too real.

What if that scared her? He didn't want her to be scared. He didn't want to scare her.

*She'll like you, Master.* The Shadows assured him, wrapping themselves around him comfortingly and soothingly. *She’ll love you.*

He exhaled. *Can you read minds now?*

*Only yours,* the Shadows assured him. *But as long as you don't cheat on her with her sister, you'll be doing a better job than her ex-partners!*

What.

"Are you seriously reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" Only 5 centuries of training kept him from flinching as he looked up to find Cassian in his doorway.

"Nesta said it was good," he shot back flatly, not hiding the book, because that would just give Cassian even more reason to tease him.

"You...actually listen to Nesta's...book recommendations?" Cassian stared at him, as if he had grown a third head.

"She is intelligent, and she reads more than either of us," Azriel shot back, sharply. "So yes, if she says it's good, I'll try it."

Cassian gave a slight shake of his head, not believing what he was hearing. "You are…actually reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" He repeated as if he couldn't quite believe that Azriel was actually doing that.

"Yes," Azriel said, his words clipped. "You have a problem with that?"

Cassian just stared at him for a long moment before letting out a quiet laugh. "No, I just never thought I would actually see the day that you read a Sellyn Drake novel."

"Well, I like it," Azriel said evenly. "It’s very are well written."

"And smutty," Cassian said with a grin.

Azriel rolled his eyes. "It’s are more than just...smut, Cassian, It actually has a story, and good characters."

"Characters who can barely keep their hands off each other long enough to solve the mystery, you mean," Cassian drawled, but Azriel ignored him, flipping a page.

."Have you ever actually read a Sellyn Drake novel, Cassian?" Azriel asked, shooting him a look. "Or do you simply judge by the covers?"

Cassian just grinned, clearly enjoying this conversation and how defensive Azriel had become. "The covers are pretty damn attractive though."

Azriel rolled his eyes at that comment, but didn't respond. Just looked back down at the book, completely ignoring his brother.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Cassian asked him instead.

"No," he answered flatly. He did really want to know how the book ended.

*We found a house! We can show it to you!* the shadows hissed at that moment. Huh.

"There is something that needs my attention," Azriel said simply.

Cassian gave him a searching look, a frown etched into his face, but Azriel simple met his gaze.

"Az," Cassian said quietly. "Come on."

"I have something I need to do, Cassian." Azriel's voice was still flat, but more firm, a clear sign that he did not want any arguments.

"Az," Cassian said again, and this time, there was a small thread of pleading in his voice. "Just… come have dinner with us. Please. It'll be good for you."

Good? Good to sit at Rhys' table and be told to "behave"? Azriel would rather eat crushed glass than do that. Which was the reasons why he skipped out of them as often as he possible could.

He knew, he knew that Cassian was just looking out for him, but that didn't mean that he felt like he was obligated to go.

"I have something I need to do," he repeated, his voice even.

Cassian sighed. "You are so goddamn stubborn," he muttered, but he let the subject drop, clearly knowing that Azriel was not going to listen.

That evening, instead of sitting through that dinner, Azriel let the shadows swirl around him in excitement, tugging on his jacket, practically dragging him forward.

*It's a lovely house, Master!* they said as they wrapped him in their embrace.

He blinked twice as he rematerialised in front of a lake. Somehow not quite what he had expected. But then…then he saw the house.

Grey stone and wood and the biggest windows he had ever seen that promised an breathtaking view over the lake… and nobody around as far as he could see. He stared at the house, a brow raised. It was nice…very nice. A little too nice. Exactly too his taste.

Azriel turned towards the shadows as he raised another brow. *And how exactly did you…* he started with a huff. *You know what, nevermind.*

He could already hear the shadows saying that they asked for a favor in exchange. Or maybe they stole it.

The house was still nice though, perfect really. He just…didn't want to know what they had done to get it.

Azriel glanced towards the building again. He could almost picture himself in the space, walking around, just….simply existing. It was peaceful and quiet…and he would not be…disturbed or bothered.

He could see himself reading in front of the fireplace, looking out into the night sky through the large windows.

Azriel walked towards the building, his fingers brushing over the wall. He could feel it already….he could already feel his muscles loosening, his shoulders lowering from their stiff position.

Home, he thought as stepped into the space, the shadows following after him as his lips tugged upwards.

Yes, he could already see himself calling it that. Home. He liked the ring of it.

*You're welcome, Master,* the shadows said as they swirled around him, nuzzling him affectionately. They were happy for him, so very happy for him.

The living room was spacious, filled with overstuffed couches and armchairs made for wings… the view indeed was spectacular. And one long uninterrupted wall was lined with tall, massive bookshelves.

It was perfect.

*Does she like books?* he couldn't help but ask.

*Yes, Master! She loves books!* The Shadows assured him in an excited chorus.

She liked to read. That was the first little tidbit of information he learned about her.

*Will you tell me something else about her?* he asked them softly, as he kept exploring the house.

*What do you want to know?* the shadows asked.

*Did her ex-partner really cheat on her with her sister?* he wondered aloud.

*Yes. They are engaged to be married now,* the shadows answered. *He's an asshole,* they muttered darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but give a nod in agreement. An ass was too kind. Whoever he was, he was more than that. Azriel hated him, whoever he was.

*Anything else?* he asked the shadows, curious, so damn curious, to know more about the female.

*She has a cat. His name is Hector. He may be the ugliest cat in existence,* the shadows said primly, *but she adores him.*

Not what he expected, but it was...sweet. It was kind. She had a pet cat. His lips tugged upwards into an involuntary smile.

*And...?* he trailed off, waiting for a response. He was greedy, so damn greedy for more, so greedy to get to know the female more. His curiosity about her had grown to a fever pitch, it seemed.

The Shadows hummed thoughtfully. *She is very, very kind, Master,* they finally said softly.

Those words caused Azriel's smile to go soft, so damn soft. His heart fluttered at the Shadows' words. She was kind. She was kind and she had a cat that she adored. Her ex was an ass who cheated on her. She read, liked books, which meant she was intelligent, and…

Was he getting excited about someone he had never even met?

*When...when can I meet her?* he asked softly.

*Soon,* the shadows promised. *She doesn't leave the house that often...*

Azriel's brows drew together at that. *Why not?* he asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted the answer to that question.

The Shadows hesitated for a moment before responding. *People...people aren't very nice to her,* they admitted slowly.

Azriel blinked, confused. People...weren't nice to her...? But…why? What was there not to be nice about? From what he had gleaned, she was kind, had a cat, was smart, and liked books. What was wrong with any of that? It didn't make any sense.

*Why?* he demanded shaprly.*Because people are idiots as usual,* the shadows snapped right back. *People aren't nice to you either.*

Azriel gave a small wince at that, the shadows words hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water. But they were right, people weren't all the nicest to him, either.

Still...he didn't like the idea of her being treated poorly. He wanted...Gods, the want was so strong, all of a sudden. The want to…to protect her. To guard her, and protect her. To keep her safe. To make sure she was alright.

*Tell me when she leaves her house,* he demanded.

For a moment he could swear the shadows were nearly frozen in place.

*Change of Plans. Put on a different shirt,* the shadows said quickly. Azriel just stared at them.

*A different shirt?* he asked. He didn't even have any clothing here! That was back at the House of Wind. But the shadows were clearly not taking no for an answer.

He batted away a tendril as it started to unbuckle his fighting leathers and did it himself, only for them to shove him into a shirt that was so dark green it was nearly black and then start fussing with his hair.

Azriel barely had time to even process what was happening before the shadows were pushing him towards the door, still trying to fix and smooth his hair and clothes as they moved forward.

*What is the change of plan?* he asked them

*You are getting to see her right now,* the shadows said with a hint of glee to their voice. *Her sister and some friends are taking her to a bar.*

*The same sister that cheated on her with her ex-partner?* he demanded.

*Yes,* the shadows agreed in a hiss.

Great. So he was going to have to stop a fight from happening, all while trying to meet the female he apparently was connected to? That was a...recipe for disaster right there..

*She'll be at the Crystal Drop* the shadows informed him, and his heart gave a strange little clench at those words. He was...he was actually going to get to meet her. Tonight.

The feeling of excitement was back, rushing through him like a wildfire. But there was also a hint of trepidation, a hint of nervousness. What if he screwed it all up? What if he messed things up? His stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

Azriel didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts, though, as the shadows gave him a little nudge forward again, all but forcing him to start moving towards the tavern.

He could see it in the distance, the sign proclaiming it as “Crystal Drop”. It...it was right there. She was there...

Taking a deep breath, he headed towards the bar, his heart pounding in his chest with every step that he took closer to the entrance. Gods, his hands were shaking.

He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was

He entered the tavern, and his eyes automatically went to the crowd, searching for...something.

The shadows let him towards a place in a corner where he could view the whole bar and he ordered a single fireale, because he was not getting drunk. He wanted his wits about him when he met her.

But right now…right now, Azriel settled in to watch.

He watched the crowd, his eyes roving around, searching the whole tavern once again. He just wanted to know where the group was. He wanted to know where...she was.

*Do you see her, Master?* the shadows asked him, nearly teasingly.

*I have absolutely no clue how she looks, so how should I?* he gave back in a growl. The door opened and he watched as a group of females poured in...and then right there at the edges of that group...

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on her, and...oh.

Between one blink and the next everything changed. A golden bond unfurled in his chest, connecting him to her.

Her.

He knew it.

She was his mate.

Mine. He whispered in his head, barely more than a thought. He knew it with every fiber of his being, every part of his heart.

He took her in hungrily.

She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Azriel had to physically restrain himself from going over to her right then and there.

He could hardly breathe. He couldn't form a coherent thought. His whole world had suddenly narrowed to the sight in front of her. His mate.

*Master?* There was alarm in the shadows voices as his breathing became near erratic.

*She's...You found my mate,* he said weakly.

The shadows hummed in confirmation and his eyes were glued to her still, drinking her in. She had long brown hair with soft curls, falling over back, bangs framing a rounded face with high cheekbones and plump cheeks...full rosy lips too and adorable freckles dotting over her nose...

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She was simply...stunning.

And mine, he thought to himself. She was his. She was his mate.

He didn't even look at the rest of the group. Just focused on the one...the one who was at the edge of the group, seemingly trying to vanish, to become invisible.

Even from the distance, Azriel could see the tension in his mate’s form. He frowned slightly at that. He didn't like it, seeing her like that.

He...his instincts were starting to kick in, a soft, protective urge rising up in him. He wanted to go to her, to...to stand by her side and ease away whatever was bothering her. But he stayed rooted to the spot, just...just watching her. Just watching his mate, the sight of her soothing every single little part of him until he felt warm all over.

He let the group settle at a table a few feet away from him, forcing himself to look down on the bottle in front of him and not stare at his mate like a total creep.

If he strained his ears, he could hear the whole conversation. Apparently it was his mate’s sisters Hen Party, the kind of celebration that some High Fae Females had before they got married.

Nice. Why not bring along your sister, when you were engaged to the guy that cheated with you on said sister?

The fact that his mate even came along into this bar that evening was probably a sign of how fucking nice she was. And Gods...no wonder his mate was so anxious...this whole thing was just...a disaster waiting to happen.

He glanced towards the group again, his attention once again immediately falling on his mate. He could see it, the small twitch of her fingers, the tightening of her lips...the small little things, and he felt his heart wrench at the sight.

She didn't talk. She was just sitting there silently, while the other females had a raucous conversation, that she wasn't part of. It made him bristle.

He didn't understand why they were doing that, why she wasn't a part of the conversation. She was right there. But they weren't listening, they weren't noticing her...or maybe they were ignoring her on purpose.

He...he didn't like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Just minutes later, Azriel realised that he should have wished that they kept ignoring her.

Because Azriel was quite certain that he was going to slit his mate's sister's throat with Truthteller if she said one more word.

The blonde, her sister, stared at his mate and this time a sharp, nasty smile curled on her lips. "Oh, what's the matter, little sister? Mad that I nabbed the male you were going to marry?" she taunted with a malicious grin. "I guess he just liked me better."

Azriel was so shocked that he could just sit there, staring.

The other females laughed as the blonde continued, her lips curled in a sneer. "You should be happy for me, really," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "After all, you could never keep him happy. You've always been useless, haven't you?"

The comments made Azriel see red. What the hell was wrong with this female? Who treated their own sister like this?

He had half a mind to go over there and wring her neck.

*Don’t,* his shadows hissed. *You’ll make it worse.*

*Make it worse?! It can’t fucking get worse!* he hissed back.

He itched to go over to the group, to protect his mate from these cruel, cruel words.

*Yes, it can,* the shadows snapped. *What do you want to do? Massacre her sister right in front of her?!* Azriel growled under his breath.

*Normally you are much more bloodthirsty,* he complained to the shadows.

*You are the fucking spymaster. Act like it,* the shadows snapped. *You want us to make her sister’s life a misery? We’ll do it. We’ll do it and it will never be traced back to you. Besides, she deserves worse than a quick death.*

He clenched his teeth.

The other females were laughing, but his mate...wasn't. She wasn't saying a single word, wasn't defending herself, wasn't saying anything. Just...just sitting there and taking the horrible abuse with a neutral, blank expression on her face.

"Cat got your tongue?" her sister asked her with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, it's not like you're good at talking, are you?" she asked her with a cruel little laugh. "Too bad for you that males want females that are able to have a conversation, not awkward little things who can't even speak when spoken to."

Azriel's body tensed as he listened to the words, every muscle coiled tight. It took every ounce of his control not to stride over to the group of females and punch her sister straight in the face. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was to protect his mate.

The comment clearly found it's target, Azriel could see his mate flinch at the words, her face crumbling momentarily before it smoothed over into a neutral expression again. Gods...it must've hurt so badly to hear her sister speak to her like that…

*We’ll ruin her fucking life,* he vowed to the shadows.

*Agreed, Master.”

Her sister rolled her eyes another time. "Come on, let's go," she told the other females. "You have the bill, don't you, Skylar?"

The words made Azriel snap. So the sister hadn't intended to even pay for her drinks in the first place? It was…they had just used her, he realised suddenly. Used her for the first stop on their tavern tour, to pick up the drink tab…and that was all she was good for in their eyes…

It was...Azriel couldn't stand by and watch this anymore, it made him so angry. So fucking furious.

"Ye...yes," his mate stuttered.

She looked so small in that moment, her eyes averted, her shoulders slumped, her hands trembling. She looked...wounded, so hurt, and Azriel was...he was sick of seeing her just accept this verbal abuse without a word.

They left. They should thank the cauldron that they left at that moment, because otherwise Azriel would have made Cassian at his worst look like a puppy.

He wanted to storm after them, to give every single person in the group a piece of his mind, but that could wait. The most important thing right now was his mate. She was still here, after all. Azriel took a deep breath, and slowly, almost hesitantly walked towards her.

He watched as she didn't move, and he finally decided to speak, his voice a low, soft murmur. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Her head turned, and he felt his heart stop as her eyes met his for the first time. Up close, her eyes were...mesmerizing. A deep, sparkling blue, framed by long, lush eyelashes. He couldn't look away from her.

And she stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes near comically wide.

He gave her a soft, slow smile. "Hi," he greeted her, his voice gentle. She blinked a few times, still staring at him, and he found it so cute, how shocked she was that he was talking to her.

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She was staring at him like a poor bunny rabbit would at an apex predator , caught in his grasp.

For just a moment her scent went utterly haywire.

Caramel and Hazelnuts. So sugary sweet that he would have gladly rolled around in it. And she just stared at him, wide eyed, silent...until suddenly the scent changed to incadescent happiness.

"Oh." A small sound escaped her as she swallowed.

And he knew. He knew at that moment that the bond had just snapped for her.

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

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milkbobatyun · 3 months ago

Text

foolish little dove

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the consequences of not listening to the head of the oak family

word count: 936

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear

a/n: this can be read as a continuation of my first yandere sunday piece 'my love, mine all mine'

the plush mattress of the bed dipped underneath you, the room furnished with an abundance of luxury—silk sheets, velvet drapes, golden accents, all shining in the glow of the candlelight. it was more than any common person could afford. yet, this was just a gilded cage, a dream disguised as a nightmare,

you were the dove, wings weighed down by invisible chains, helpless as you await for the fate your captor planned for you. the balcony teased you, thick, tempered glass doors teasing you, though it remained locked, the taste of freedom just out of reach.

oh how you prayed you could fly into the sky from the balcony, to feel the fresh air blow gently against your skin.

the vast room seemed to grow larger every day, the loneliness gnawed at your insides, making you yearn for company.

the sun rose and fell, night’s moonlight flooded the room. the repetitive ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs struck through throughout the room, the gramophone’s needle scratched out the same haunting tune, echoing around the bed chamber.

you lost count of how many days you were locked up. the staff brought you your meals, took you to the bathroom to bath, their routine revolving around you like clockwork. your days began to blend into each other, making your mind a blurry haze.

today, a key jangled in the lock, the soft creak of the heavy oak door echoing in the still room.

sunday’s heavy boots thudded across the floor, muffled by the plush velvet carpet.

your blank gaze slid away from where your hands tangled each other, your hair hanging around your face like lifeless vines, towards the new figure in the room. when you catch sight of a white coat and not the mundane black uniform of the servants, your head snaps up, eyes lighting up with hope.

your eyes meet sunday’s steady gaze, lunging forwards, hands grasping at him, at his clothes, to prove to yourself he wasn’t a figment of imagination. those hallucinations happened more often now.

sometimes, it was your family, screaming in agony, their bloody hands clawing at your exquisite clothing, cursing you to eternal suffering, their screams worming its way into your ears. other times, it was the trailblazer, haunting the dark corner of your room, a silent visitor who would stare blankly in your direction.

the smooth velvety fabric rippled cooling against your soft and warm skin. sunday’s mouth twitched into an amused smirk, as he closed the distance in a few long strides. for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to believe that he was here, to free you from the cold shackles around your ankles. his cold hands, concealed by his pure white gloves, traced your face.

“my, my,” he purred, voice soothing. “how is my little dove?”

“please,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “please, let me go… i beg of you” your voice trailed off, dying like the hope you held in your heart.

a hollow chuckle flooded the room, sunday’s face twisted in cruel humor.

“you still don’t get it, do you?” he hisses, voice taunting. “you’re mine now, little dove. even if i let you go, where would you go? home?”

a twisted smirk adorned his face.

“oh right,” he continued, tapping his finger on his chin in mock consideration. “you don't have one anymore! maybe because…they’re all dead!”

his eyes were alight with evil delirium, looking down upon you like a hawk would upon its prey.

with one finger twirling a lock of your hair, sunday leaned close to your ear, lips brushing your ear like a lover’s promise, and whispered, “remember, my little dove, you’re mine now, always and forever.”

with a gentle, almost lover-like caress of your cheek, sunday placed a kiss on your forehead, before he turned on his heel, heading towards the door.

something within you snapped and you moved before you could think, hope shining in your eyes. you tried to run towards the opening. though your legs, weak with days of sitting around, failed you. sunday watched you with sadonic delight, gaze cold and emotionless as he observed you while you flailed about, like a newborn deer.

throwing dignity to the wind, you dragged yourself towards the door, the comfort of the carpet burning against your skin. you watched as the shining sliver of freedom shut behind sunday.

the door clicked shut with an echoing finality. hearing the snap of the lock, turning back into its place, you remained, clawing at the door. you were but a dove in a gilded cage, weighed down by invisible chains, freedom nothing but a cruel illusion, always out of reach.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere #yandere sunday #hsr sunday x reader #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere character #yandere character x reader #angstober #angst

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wyniepooh · 4 months ago

Text

Protect

Logan protects you, in the only way he knows how.

bodyguard!logan x reader. just assume that reader is some high profile public figure lol. mentions of smoking. use of the nickname ‘kid’.

you could no longer feel the expression on your face.

It was only when you passed by a window— an awfully tall glass panel with an elaborate gilded frame— did you notice that the pleasant smile that had donned your face for the entire evening was finally beginning to falter.

a flash and click of a camera went off behind you, and through the reflection of the window, you could see a reporter walking eagerly towards you. you quickly swiveled in the opposite direction, hands grasped onto the front of your long gown as your feet guided your body towards a dark and isolated corridor.

but, you weren’t scared or alarmed in the slightest at the empty and unexplored room you were entering. because you knew that wherever you went, he was right behind.

after endless fidgeting with the hatch on a pair of doors, you could only sigh in relief when it finally opened. you stepped out into the balcony, sighing as you felt the abundance of fresh air fall over you.

your silent lonesome didn’t last. before long— just like you had suspected— a quiet, but familiar pair of footsteps trailed out from behind.

“I’m fine, logan. I just needed some air,” you turned your head slightly to the side. “you don’t need to follow me everywhere.”

he aligned himself beside you, arms clasped together behind his back. “Actually, I do. according to the contract I signed with your father, you require 24-hour supervision-“

“Please, enough,” you cut off, head fully turned to face him as you felt a warm teardrop drip down your cheek. you could see the rapid rise of your own chest, the consistent motion getting faster and more panicked by the second. you gripped the metal railing of the balcony and closed your eyes, hoping the cold sting would distract from the embarrassment.

when you opened your eyes again, logan seemed to be standing closer than before. his previous— and usual— stern expression was long gone, replaced by one of genuine empathy.

His softened brows twitched. you watched as his hand slowly reached up towards your face, arm pausing for just a second before a pointer finger extended gently to your cheek. You looked away as the wetness spread across your flushed face, and when you heard the parting of his lips, you turned your head and swatted his wrist away.

you spun towards the sky, looking at no star in particular, but focused on the scattered beads in the nightfall regardless. All was completely silent and still for a minute, which provided just enough time for you to slow your breathing and dab away at the mascara you were sure had traveled down your face.

You had just made a decision in your head to leave and return to the spectacle when you heard the muted click of a lighter. you smelled the tobacco before you saw it, and when you did, nothing but a scoff could escape you.

“I- I don’t think you’re allowed to do that here.”

he shrugged, and simply took an experienced drag of the cigar in response. He leaned a little closer to you, supporting his weight on the balcony railing as he raised the lit object up to your face. “who’s here to stop me? Or you, for that matter?”

You laughed dryly, crossing your arms as you asked, “are you seriously offering me a cigar? I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

He bounced his arm in suggestion of the cuban again and muttered, “kid, this is me protecting you.”

your smile faded away as you took in his words, and after a long second, your hand came up to reach for the cigar. but before your fingers could hook around the shaft, Logan opened his mouth and moved his arm away.

“ah— slow down. i still have a job to do. It’s my obligation to at least teach you how to smoke it first, so you don’t puke all over the prime minister or something. Plus,” he bent his head in, lips angled towards your ear, “if you’re not holding it and you get caught, you can talk your way out of it.”

he retracted his head, raising his eyebrows as he took one last puff and switched the direction of the cigar to face you. “Don’t be shy, kid. Just put your mouth around it.”

You followed his instruction with skepticism, delicately wrapping your lips around the brown paper of the cigar with your eyes down. With a mouthful of tobacco smoke, you looked up from your downward gaze, and as your eyes connected with his hazel glare, logan’s proud smirk seemed to falter for just a second; the corners of his mouth dropped, and his lips parted for a minute too long before he spoke.

“Just… don’t inhale into your lungs like you would a cheap cigarette,” he whispers, “you’re meant to enjoy it.”

You exhaled, clearing your throat as you watched the smoke dissipate into the dark background of the sky. “enjoy what?”

You notice the hesitancy in his response, his arm pausing half-way to his face as his eyes flicker to the imprint of your lipstick on the stick. finally, he puts his mouth on top of the red stain, takes a puff, and breathes, “the taste.”

The moonlight reflected off of his slicked back hair, and it looked like a star or two were dancing around in his eye. It was only now did you see the prominence of his wrinkles and the grey in his beard that you had never noticed before.

you don’t know why you stayed silent. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything to talk about— your very recent breakdown provided obvious proof that you needed to talk. And if there was anyone you could and wanted to talk to, it had to be logan.

You broke the silence first. “So, why’d you take this job anyways?”

he chuckled. “Honestly, I’d like to say some sappy bullshit like ‘i love helping others’ but,” he purses his lips, “I’m afraid you’d find the real reason quite selfish,” he responds.

You laugh. “So, for the money?”

“Something like that.”

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know anyone else who’d know exactly what to do when I’m freaking out, even if it’s by giving me a cigar at an event where reporters are swarming everywhere.”

He smiles, a lopsided one that only further emphasizes his wrinkles hidden within his beard. “I’m glad you consider me as a friend.”

You remained quiet. After a windy moment, you stepped closer to where he was leaning against the metal railing. You grabbed his wrist which contained the still-lit cigar, and turned your back towards his chest to take a hit. You look back to him, blowing the smoke into his face.

“a friend, right.”

now it was his turn to be silent, eyes frantically scanning over your face before lowering down to the hand around his wrist. His gaze jumps back to your eyes, a fog of something indistinguishable knitted between his brows.

“you know, I don’t really taste anything special. Just smokey.” you turned, pressing your chest against his as a casual hand toyed with the edge of his shirt collar. There was no space between the two of you, and yet there was no resistance, from either side, to step back and separate. “What’s it supposed to taste like?”

He tilted his head. “a little earthy. nutty,” his unoccupied hand fell upon the small of your back. “sweet.”

you couldn’t tell if he had more to say, but if he did, his words were all swallowed up by your lips on his. The hand on your waist tightly squeezed, pulling you flush onto him until the two of you were on the edge of practically falling over the balcony. both of your hands curled tightly around his gelled hair, tugging harshly as you silently gasped against his mouth.

the desperate roughness of his teeth scraped against your lip, and your respective chests rose up and down in synch with one another before he pulled back, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your hair.

“I’m supposed to protect you, kid,” he panted.

your fingers lingered over his chin, nails scratching at his overgrown stubble. You pleaded, “Logan, please, i’ve never felt so safe.”

you felt a sudden rush of coldness as Logan turns his head away. “I lied, you know. I didn’t exactly take this job just for the money. Your dad pays well, of course, but, that’s not why I stayed.”

He turns back, the star-splattered sparkle still twinkling in his eye as he mumbles, “you’re the selfish reason, sweetheart. you always have been.”

you pulled his forehead to yours, arms crossed around his neck to bring his warmth even closer. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty.

“Logan,” was all you muttered, and it was all it took before a low growl escaped through his chest and he drew your face in firmly by your chin.

You heard the faint drop of the half-gone cigar on the ground, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You tasted the sweetness on his tongue, just fine.

a/n: logan was canonically a bodyguard and I feel like we writers need to take more advantage of that fact

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