#have done nothing but count down the time until I might get a glimpse of human interaction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkedinshadows · 4 days ago

Text

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 He couldn't feel his hands anymore—they had been replaced by a blinding pain that reached up to his elbows.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

244 notes · View notes

deadlymistletoe · 1 year ago

Text

Fears and Bandages

Pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

Request: @frustrated-kitten asked: I thought maybe I could request a Thranduil x FemReader where she returns with several injuries after fighting a bunch of spiders with Legolas and some other elves? Some small wounds, some more serious, but in the end she survives and everything goes well?

A/N: I hope it’s what you wanted - I was going to make it more angsty but this is what came out and it stuck.

Genre: slight hurt/comfort

Description: Thranduil’s composure cracks as he waits for you to come home from battling the spiders. He’s only able to put his fears to rest once he’s bandaged you up himself.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries. Stitches.

Word count: 1582

Thranduil’s foot tapped against the ground, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of his throne. Besides the two guards posted at the entrance to the room, the rest of his subjects were steering clear of him.

He didn’t blame them for avoiding him while he was like this - after all, had it been someone else fidgeting he would have been annoyed himself.

It was rare for the composed elvenking to fidget as he was, to betray any hint of apprehension, but today was the exception.

It was well known that there were two people on this earth that Thranduil would do absolutely anything to keep safe, and it just so happened that both of them had gone headfirst into a dangerous situation.

The first, his only son, Legolas. Since the elf had first looked up at him from his mother’s with those wide blue eyes Thranduil had known that he would do anything for him.

After his wife had died that feeling had only strengthened, as the meaning in his life centered around the elfling who was quickly becoming one of the realm's best archers.

For a long time, nothing had changed, until he met the second person he would come to care about more than he would have thought possible. You.

Thranduil had never even considered that he might love again after his wife passed, but then you’d come into his life and he’d found himself falling faster than should have. And he just knew that he couldn’t lose you too. History couldn’t repeat itself. He wouldn’t let it.

Of course, that was easier said than done since you, much like Legolas, continuously risked your safety to fight the spiders that continued to invade the Greenwood.

Thankfully for him, you’d stepped back from the danger once the two of you fell in love and you took to the role of Thranduil’s consort - soon-to-be-queen, but the latest nest was bigger than usual and the spiders began to get more bold so you’d insisted on joining Legolas for the raid.

So now Thranduil sat, fidgeting like an impatient elfling, waiting for news.

He felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time - helpless.

Yes, Legolas had promised to make sure you both came back in one piece, but Legolas was also known for saying he was ‘fine’ when he had a gaping wound - Valar forbid he find out what his son’s definition of ‘one piece’ was.

Thranduil let out a frustrated sigh. He knew better than to doubt the abilities of you and his son, but sometimes he just couldn’t help but worry. After all, the last time his son had left the palace with a mother-figure, only one of them had come back - granted, that was when Legolas was a child with none of the skills he had now. But still.

He immediately straightened up, movements freezing when Galion ran up the steps leading into the room. “They’re back, my lord.”

Thranduil wasted no time making his way down the steps, Galion rushing to keep up with him as they made their way to the front gates. “Is everyone okay?” Are they okay?

“Everyone’s alive.” Those words were less reassuring than they should be. The mirkwood elves had a habit of using the term ‘alive’ rather loosely.

When he reached the entrance, those gathered around instantly parted for him to make his way towards the glimpse of pale hair he’d noticed through the crowd.

None of the patrol had been completely spared, that was certain, as scratches adorned each of their complexions, the darker blood of the spiders splattered over their uniforms.

Healers had already dispersed amongst the warriors, vials of antidote in hand just in case, and he was relieved to see that Legolas had no obvious signs of injury as he drew closer.

Legolas saw him coming and turned to meet him, voice low as he spoke. “There were more than we expected. We weren’t prepared, a second lot ambushed us after the fight had already started.”

Thranduil placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze - a show of affection that still kept a semblance of formality. “You did well.”

He hesitated, not wanting to brush his son off but at the same time needing to see you. Legolas saved him from asking, nodding towards where a healer was bent over a figure on a bench. You, he realized.

“She’s okay.” Legolas murmured. “Just a bit more cut up than the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ve been on guard to make sure she didn’t injure herself more running off to find you before the healers got to her.”

Thranduil’s lips twitched, holding back a smile as he made his way towards you, Legolas following behind.

It didn’t take long for you to look up at the familiar footsteps, a smile spreading across your lips despite the sting as the healer cleaned up a deep wound across your shoulder.

When the healer took her hands from you to rummage through her supplies you immediately took the chance to push yourself to your feet, moving around her and meeting Thranduil half way, his arms naturally finding their way around your waist as you stumbled slightly.

He smirked slightly looking over your shoulder. “I do believe Lothael is about to scold you for using her distraction to your advantage.”

Your healer, Lothael, had followed you, rolling her eyes. She gave Thranduil a wry look. “Yes, well, I can’t imagine that the king wants his queen-to-be to bleed out on the floor.”

Thranduil’s eyes quickly ran over your wounds, double-checking that you weren’t in imminent danger of bleeding out, and lingering on the deeper ones before looking back at Lothael. “I can take it from here, thank you.”

He knew that technically the healer had more better skills than him in the art, but at the same time, he also knew that the only way to completely reassure himself that you weren’t about to bleed out was if he did it himself - he needed to know that he’d checked and taken care of your wounds with his own hands.

It was only when the two of you had left the view of the other elves, leaving Legolas in charge, that you let yourself lean against the wall with a groan, the pain that had been throbbing in your leg since the adrenaline had worn off on the walk home forcing you to give it a break.

Thranduil, whose hand had been resting on your back, ready to steady you at any moment should you need it, gave you a worried look as you pulled away from him to use the wall as support.

“I’ll be fine,” You muttered, grimacing. “It’s just demanding a rest.”

Thranduil gave you a calculated look, and before you could say anything or even begin to wonder what he was thinking, he swept you off your feet, your arms automatically going around his neck as he carried you bridal-style down the hall.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, a smile crossing his own face at the sound. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down at you, a small smile dancing across his lips. “Why, I’m carrying to your chamber’s, my lady. Valar knows you’d collapse halfway there if I didn’t.”

You laughed before quieting down and leaning your head against his chest. “I’m tired, Thranduil.” You murmured, the toll today had taken on your body catching up to you.

He looked at you with a soft look reserved only for you. “I know, Meleth. You can rest soon.”

You sighed, staying silent as he reached your shared chambers and laid you on the bed, letting you sink into the silks and furs that covered the mattress.

You had started to drift off when you suddenly felt something cold seep into one of the deeper wounds, pressure keeping it there. You jerked away from the cold sting, but a hand held you in place, and you felt Thranduil’s silky hair brush against your skin as he lent over you to brush his lips against your forehead.

“I’m just cleaning them.” He murmured. “Relax.”

You let out a shuddering breath as he moved the cloth, a few tears slipping down the side of your face as he continued on to stitch the wound closed.

Your strong facade you’d kept up in the entrance and on the journey home hope had dissipated, as had your energy now that you were with the one you didn’t have to act strong for.

Thranduil whispered apologies and reassurances as he cleaned and bandaged the rest of your wounds with a gentleness that could only come from a lover’s hands, occasionally wiping the tears from your face and running his fingers through your hair at a particularly harsh sting.

It felt like hours later when the last wound was taken care of and you heard the quiet clink as Thranduil set the glass bottle of ointment aside.

He remained seated at your size, gentle fingers brushing over your face and hair as he gazed down at you, his own fears put aside now that he’d tended to you.

You held his gaze, relishing the cool touches until you felt your eyes begin to droop, and the last thing you were aware of was the feather-light lips that brushed against yours and the whispered, “Sleep, Meleth.” as you drifted off, Thranduil’s fingers soothingly carding through your hair.

Everything Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

If you wish to join my taglist to be notified when I post new fics, click here. For my Tolkien Masterlist, click here. For my Main Masterlist, click here.

#imagines #the hobbit #female reader #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil x you #my writing

872 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 7 months ago

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: It's time to find your handler and make him answer for what he's done to you.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

taglist: @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx @that-one-little-soybean @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @saltedcoffeescotch @astarlitsoul @just-a-social-casualty-1 @sundayysunshine

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

353 notes · View notes

wanderersbell · 2 years ago

Text

wanderer x reader

summary: sometimes, when he thinks you aren’t looking, he makes his vision glow and dim softly in a steady rhythm. the illusion of a heartbeat.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1,175

a/n: hellooo first time posting i am terrified of my writing being percieved but i’m full sending it and might never do this again so slay ig. scara is kinda ooc (he is not being a jerk lmao)

sometimes, when he thinks you aren’t looking, he makes his vision glow and dim softly in a steady rhythm. the illusion of a heartbeat.

it’s one of the many things you’ve noticed he does in the time that’s passed since you met him. he’s complex, stubborn, hard to read, prone to outbursts, and yet it’s the small actions and glimpses of vulnerability that remind you how truly human he is. no matter his origins, what his body may be made out of, or how many lies have poisoned his consciousness, he feels everything the way a human does.

you don’t get to see it often, whenever he knows you’re looking he makes a huge show of being a brat and flaunting an arrogance that seemingly never left him after his loss of divinity that he knows irks you to no end when you just want a solid answer out of him, but there are times he isn’t aware he’s being perceived.

you have a tendency to become so absorbed in a task that you lose all situational awareness and he knows this well by now, choosing those moments to let his guard down while you don’t pay him any mind. he’s shown you a side of himself that’s remained previously undiscovered until he grew undeniably fond of you over time. he shows this in the way he bounces his leg when you’re hurt or not feeling well, the way he disappears off to sumeru city when you claim that nothing sounds good to eat only to return with the pita pockets he knows you’ll eat no matter what, in the way he lets you stroke and place featherlight kisses against his knuckles when he wakes up from a nightmare and looks down at his hands that have done so many cruel things and calls himself a monster.

that last one has only happened twice thus far, and he always refuses to meet your eyes for a while the next morning, but his tolerance for your small shows of affection and comfort are welcome progress in comparison to the offense he used to take from it when he only saw it as pity. after all, he hates being looked down on. however, actions often speak better than words.

you know he doesn’t understand why you seem to care for him, and you know that it’ll take time for him to fully open up, which is why you make sure to give him the moments you’re occupied with other things to unmask and decompress and never interrupt him when you accidentally tune back into reality, but it’s only a matter of time before you give yourself away.

and now, while you watch him from where you sit at the bank untangling a fishing net, you think this might be the day you finally do.

he’s standing a short distance away under the shade of a tree where he was initially scrutinizing your work and making snarky comments about it that fell on deaf ears as you paid him no mind, but had at some point fallen silent and let his tense shoulders drop as he watched the wildlife around him.

the dappled sunlight through the leaves above him dance along the top of his hat with the movement of the wind and soft metal chimes can be heard as the ornaments on his hat sway with it, but it’s the soft sound of elemental energy that had taken your focus away from the net and when your attention fell on him, he was doing it again, making his vision beat lightly against his chest. the sight makes your heart clench and a lump form in your throat, watching him gaze so softly down at the item hanging down from his shoulder. he holds his right hand underneath it gently, almost as if even the slightest of touches would throw off the rhythm, and it’s in this moment that you release a sigh a bit too loud that has his eyes snapping to yours in an instant.

for a moment he looks like a child that got caught stealing sweets, eyes wide and body frozen in place, before he eventually frowns and sends you a sharp glare while turning his body away from you and crossing his arms with a huff, pretending to go back to staring off into the distance.

your feet start carrying you to him before your mind can even process the movement but he keeps himself faced away from you until you move in front of him. he looks unsure and hesitant, but there is an undeniable level of trust that had built up between you two that kept him from growing instinctively defensive.

“what?” he demands, refusing to meet your eyes.

“do it again.”

when his gaze finally lands on you he looks almost taken aback. “why?”

you shake your head. “just do it, please.”

he looks like he wants to argue, but decides to keep his mouth shut and lets his arms fall back down to his sides in defeat when he realizes you’re dead serious. slowly, almost shyly, his vision starts glowing with anemo energy again, steady and strong. when you reach your hand up softly to touch it he tenses up and almost backs away, but after a reassuring glance from you holds himself in place and nervously waits to see what you’re trying to do.

you lean closer as your fingertips make contact with the metal casing around it, feeling the rush of energy against your hand every time it brights and dims again. you might be imagining it, but the rhythm seems to pick up the closer you get.

when your warm lips meet the cool glass against his chest, it reacts immediately; the elemental energy starts pulsating faster and faster inside of the vision while the wanderer stiffens before you, entirely frozen on the spot as his ‘heart’ beats wildly at your boldness. his expression remains almost entirely neutral, so much so that you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell he was even flustered had his vision not given it away, and the thought makes you smile softly knowing he can’t hide how these small shows of affection get to him now. the flush rising in his cheeks is proof of the fact that he’s more than aware of this, and he wastes no time shoving you away and yanking his hat down to cover his face while he turns away in embarrassment.

instead of saying anything, you clasp your hands behind your back and return to the riverside where you left the tangled net, and you can literally feel the way his eyes are burning holes into the back of your head when you pick it up and start picking at the knots again.

what you don’t see is the way he stares at you with pure wonder and adoration spilling over in his indigo irises, hand resting over the place your lips had just been as if he can hold the feeling there forever.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #wanderer #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #my writing

3K notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 4 months ago

Note

Just when you thought taking a day off from retail when you're sick would be paradise away from the retail hell boys when your door suddenly explodes and the retail hell boys enter your room when they heard you got sick. You can't win.

TW: Reader has a dark mindset, their suffering is not treated seriously.

It's kind of ridiculous that your only respite is sickness, isn't it?

Does it count as self-harm to deliberately let yourself get sick just so you can miss a day or two of work? Does... Does not caring about a twisted ankle that much because you know you won't have to work for a while count as mental illness? If only you could afford a psychologist right now.

What you do know, is that in spite of your physical pain, you haven't felt this at peace in a while. You can even ignore the fact that your pay is getting damaged from this, it's worth it. It's calm.

No weird coworkers, no pressure from a shitty boss, no creepy clients-

CRASH

There's no mistaking it. That was the front door of your rackety little apartment.

Fear has you flatten to the wall of your bedroom, ankle squealing with pain. Deep down, you've always dreaded this would happen since moving to Hell. That some nutjob would just break into your place and butcher you like a pig. Because they feel like it, because some demons are just like that, because humans are easy targets.

Humans are like gazelles to them. And amidst all those grazing bodies, a tired and beaten down one like you is the gazelle with the limp, the one that's getting picked first.

Fucking damn it, you should have bought the domestic defense bat that tall butch tried to sell you when you moved in. You wondered why she was pricing it so high until she revealed it was some kind of hellish beast, as opposed to a barbed wire bat.

As is, you can only grab the bedside lamp and hope, with every fiber of your being, that the thing you're up against has a skull soft enough to allow brain damage.

Hearing hushed voices, your plan is to turn the corner and possibly run outside before you have to hit anyone.

A plan easily thwarted when a meaty hand swipes the bedside lamp right out of your hands.

Alright. You didn't think that far ahead.

" YEAH, THAT'S IT SMALL FRY! " The meathead you've come to recognize as one of the creepy regulars beams. He smashes the bulb out of the lamp, and jams some kind of blade in the hollowed space, using fabric to tie it all together. Is that... Part of your curtains?

" Moz, you ruined the door, you oaf... Isn't that essential to keep the house safe? " The other one, the incubus, points out, feeling the dents left in your wall.

Said wrathful demon pauses to gouge the extent of the damage for several seconds, then waves. " Huh. I'LL DO YA ONE BETTER- WHO NEEDS DOORS?! By the time I'm done, no one will even think of trying to get in. "

Babesley turns around. " Well, she does- Oh! Oh there she is, our tasty workaholic. " The incubus gets a glimpse at your injured limb and gasps. " My sweet hardworking princess, what are you doing out of bed?! Come on, let's go lie down, I'll give you a wonderful massage and you can tell me all about the awful people you work with! "

The awful people being them both, mostly. On a good day.

Babesley has started pulling you along gently, and frankly, you know there's nothing you can do to get them out of your home now, so you might as well just bide your time and see what comes next.

He openly evaluates the state of your room before cautiously helping you lay down, starting to work on your back muscles with surprising competence. You didn't know he was a masseur! Out of spite, you don't allow the shock to show on your face, keeping noises to a minimum.

" Come now, it's no fun if I don't get to hear it. " He huffs. " You're being difficult when we're just trying to keep you safe! Tsk tsk, brats these days. "

" Get- Hnnh- " Oh he popped something ancient in there. The smug brow raise is his display of victory. " Get out of my home. "

" Mhm, not happening. I was thinking of getting a pizza from that cozy nook downtown. "

Pizza does sound good.

You ponder on it to the sounds of Moz breaking your house apart in a nightmare DIY session.

" ... I want the pepperoni one. " It was a moment of weakness. And most importantly, free food.

" Say please. " He sing-songs, clawtips flirting with the fat of your rump through your pajama shorts.

" Cunt. "

" Yes, I bet yours is heavenly. "

Before things can get any more awkward, the other demon bulldozes in with a cup, slapping your ass with a force so great it has you barking every curse under the sun.

" Spit on this, jizzbrains. " He angles the glass at Babes, who easily 'ptoo's in.

You think that one slap just undid all of the incubus' work on your accumulated tension. " What are you even doing? Ruining my house for the fuck of it?! "

" HAH. " Moz grunts. " I'm making it IMPENETRABLE. This here is for a booby trap. IMAGINE DYING WITH A BONER. "

You and Babesley look at him blankly.

" They walk in, right?! They STEP on the plate, they ACTIVATE THE TRAP, THEN BOOM- GET A SPRAY OF THIS NASTY SHIT AND THEN THE FUCKIN' LAMP COMES SWINGING DOWN JAMMING RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES! Either that or the throat... Actually, I need a plan B for a shortstack. "

You decide you'll mourn your furniture later.

" What about the pizza guy? "

" WHAT PIZZA GUY?! "

Babesley waves Moz away, continuing his earlier work above you. " Think about it this way, if it works, we won't have to pay for it. "

You want to go back to work.

#Retail Hell boys

128 notes · View notes

hunny-bean · 1 year ago

Text

Sugar & Spice

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank likes you best in blue. Happy Anniversary!

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex (M & F Recieving), Fingering, Unprotected P in V, Obnoxiously Fluffy at Times, Lingerie, Teasing, Light Bondage, Kinda Mean Frank, Sub Reader. Ok, I think that's it! Let me know if I missed one.

A/N: Needless to say, I'm expanding my comfort zone. I added a splash of mechanic!frank because he's a guilty pleasure of mine. Sorry if he's a little OOC, it's hard to imagine Frank untraumatized and in a happy relationship. Anyway, I hope this turned out alright. Enjoy! Let me know what you think! XOXO.

P.S. I'm open to requests, if you've got any cool ideas! I love writing, but I have experienced writer's block many times before, so I may need a little assistance at some point. I'll write for any Jon Bernthal character as well as a plethora of others that I don't have time to list. If you want to ask for another character, just take a gamble and I'll let you know if I can do it! Also, nothing immoral or illegal, please. Sorry for the insanely long author's note.

You may proceed :)

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

'Curse this stupid lighting,' you thought, examining your makeup in the floor-length mirror. The dim yellow light bulb in Frank's walk-in closet was seriously throwing off your perception of colors. For example, you were pretty sure your blush was looking natural and sweet, but there was always that slim chance you would look like a clown in a different room.

You were tragically forced into the closet by the sound of Frank's keys rattling in the lock. Before that, you had been enjoying the luxury of a bathroom counter. Unfortunately, Frank only had one toilet and you figured he might need it, so you grabbed your bag and sprinted to the closet the second he opened the door. Under no circumstances would you let Frank catch even the slightest glimpse of you. At least, not until you were finished getting ready. You were planning a surprise, after all.

When Frank finally got home, he instantly knew something was off. Usually, when you spent the night with him (which was most nights), you'd come meet him at the door whenever he finished up at the garage. You'd slide through the kitchen in your fuzzy socks to give him a hug and a kiss and ask how his day was. It had become such a routine for the two of you, that when it didn't happen, his first thought was that you weren't there at all.

Frank pulled his boots off and hung up his jacket before wandering into the kitchen to see if you had left a note. Maybe your roommate had another "crisis," he thought, or you had to make a quick run to the grocery store. Finding nothing, he grew slightly concerned. It was very unlike you to just take off without so much as a text explaining why.

Then, Frank heard a faint rustling noise coming from the bedroom. He smiled softly, all of his previous worries evaporating as he went down the hall to see what you were up to. You were probably just taking a nap, he thought, but when he got to the bedroom, you were still nowhere to be found. Frank was just about to try calling you when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the light on under the closet door.

"Hey, baby. You in there?" he asked, knocking gently.

"Be out in a minute!" you called back, fluffing your curls that you barely got done before he showed up.

"Whatcha doin' in the closet?" Frank asked, and even through the door you could hear the amusement in his voice.

"It's a surprise," you replied deviously.

"Come on, darlin', you know I hate surprises," Frank griped.

"You'll like this one, I promise," you proclaimed. "Just be patient."

Frank sighed dramatically. "I wanna see you," he grumbled. Smiling, you meticulously straightened the bow you added to pin two small sections of your hair behind your head.

"Oh, trust me," you muttered. "You will."

Taking a step back, you admired your full body in the mirror. You had bought this underwear set a while ago, and were just waiting for the right occasion to use it. It was a beautiful baby blue color, and it hugged your body perfectly. The bra was a short, sheer corset top that showcased your cleavage without being too obnoxious. The panties were soft and lacy, pulled up high in the sides to accentuate your hips. They weren't quite a thong, but they certainly came close. Decorating both pieces were small embroidered cornflowers that made you feel pretty and delicate. On top of it all was an elegant lace robe that you somehow managed to find in the exact same color. It was almost completely see-through and it barely brushed your mid thigh, so you weren't worried about it obscuring any of your best assets.

You looked good. There was no denying that. In fact, you couldn't think of a time you'd ever looked better. You just hoped Frank's heart was strong enough to withstand the sight of you.

Quickly, you added your finishing touches, brushing on your favorite lip gloss and putting in a pair of dainty diamond earrings that Frank got you for Valentine's Day that year. You gave yourself one more once-over in the mirror. Everything was perfect. At long last, you were ready to execute your master plan.

You were a little nervous, but what you were about to pull off wouldn't work if you let it show, even just a little bit. With that in mind, you took a few deep breaths and rolled your shoulders back. Holding your head up high, you slowly opened the closet door.

When you stepped out into the bedroom, you found Frank laying on top of the covers with his arms positioned behind his head and one leg propped up. He was barely doing anything, and still he was the picture of dominance. Even while wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, he looked incredible. In fact, just seeing him was enough to have you fantasizing about crawling on top of him and hiding your face in his chest. But alas, you could not. You had to stay strong.

As soon as Frank saw you, his eyes lit up like a little kid's on Christmas morning. He immediately sat up straight, looking utterly dazzled. It seemed you were right. This was one surprise he could get behind.

"Do you like it?" you asked beguilingly. You gave him a small spin, showing off all the intricate details.

"That's the stupidest question you've ever asked, sweetheart," Frank replied, rising to meet you across the room. "You're a fuckin' angel."

He pulled you in by your waist to leave a soft peck on your lips. Seeing his mouth shine with your lip gloss when he pulled away made your heart skip a beat. You weren't always a possessive person, but that changed when you discovered what it felt like to leave your mark on someone. Especially someone as desirable as Frank Castle.

"Happy anniversary, baby," Frank drawled sweetly.

"Happy anniversary." You were sure you were smiling like an idiot, but you couldn't help it. You and Frank had been together for four years now, and it felt like the shortest lifetime you'd ever experienced. The love you felt for the man in front of you was stronger than anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in your heart that would never change.

Frank wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back in for another kiss, this one considerably longer than the last. The two of you stood there for a while, making out while your hands explored the familiar planes of each other's bodies. Frank was fucking your mouth slowly with his tongue, kissing you like a promise in the way he knew made your knees weak. You almost gave up on the plan right then and there, but your excitement for what was to come later that night saved you from falling into the trap.

You reached a hand down between you to palm at Frank's growing erection. You heard him let out a low hum, and you felt the vibrations travel from his chest through yours, relaxing you from the inside out. It didn't take long for him to start pushing back against your warm hand, seeking some relief, but he didn't find any. . .

because that was when you stopped moving. You pulled away from the kiss, keeping your hand perfectly still and looking up at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

"What time is it?" you inquired, focusing all your energy into keeping a straight, innocent face.

"Uh. . . 'bout 6:30?" Frank was obviously not thrilled that you had stopped kissing him to ask that of all things. 'Perfect,' you thought maliciously. Unable to fight it any longer, a sly, excited smile slowly overtook your face.

"It's dinner time," you whispered.

Before he could react, you slipped out of Frank's grasp and sauntered away to the kitchen. You went straight to the pantry to gather everything you would need to make spaghetti and garlic bread, and set it on the counter next to the stove.

When Frank was finished staring blankly at the wall, mystified, he joined you in the kitchen to find you filling up a pot with water at the sink. He crept up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

"What'd you do that for, hmm?" He was using a voice that you were all too familiar with. It was the voice he used when he wanted something from you, and most days it had you folding instantly. He sounded so condescending, and it was playing right into your more submissive side. He was being an asshole, but he was just such a hot asshole, and somehow it always. freaking. worked.

Except it wouldn't work today. You would make sure of it.

"Go sit down, Frankie," you requested, gesturing to the bar behind the sink.

"Dinner can wait a little while. Your tomatoes aren't gonna go bad in an hour, sweetheart." You shut off the faucet and tried to move over to the stove, but Frank tightened his hold on you, refusing to let you go.

"I'm hungry," you complained.

"So am I," Frank teased, making sure you could feel the proof of his statement pressed up against you. You rolled your eyes at how audible his stupid smirk was.

"I'm trying to make us a special anniversary dinner. Now go sit down, Frank."

Frank knew you weren't actually upset with him, and he wasn't stupid so he knew what you were doing. You weren't stupid either, so you knew he secretly liked it. You were having a competition, and you couldn't wait to finally beat your insufferably headstrong boyfriend at a game of wills. All you had to do to win was hold out until you were finished eating, and this time around you had some tricks up your sleeve.

Frank groaned defeatedly. No matter how much he wanted you, his chivalrous upbringing prevented him from denying his lady what she wanted. So, he gave in and trudged around the counter to sit on the barstool across from the sink. You could feel his eyes following you as you went about making your dinner. His gaze was burning holes all over your body, heating up your core and exhilarating your mind. Every movement you made was intentional, perfectly executed in a way that kept Frank on edge and his jeans too tight.

When you needed something from the lower cabinets, you would bend over to show off your panties, and the fabric would stretch tighter around the swell of your ass. When you needed something from the top cabinets, you would stand on your tiptoes and stretch to reach it, revealing more of your tummy and causing the underwire to push your chest out a little further. While you were reading from the recipe book, you would "absent-mindedly" twirl your hair around your fingers or lean forward on the counter, subtly arching your back.

Once, when you were finished blending your home-made spaghetti sauce and it was heating up on the stove, you dipped a finger in the pot and delicately licked it clean. You didn't look at Frank while you did it because you're sure you would have laughed at how ridiculous it was, but you knew he saw it (and liked it) from his small frustrated sigh.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, semi-sarcastically.

"Nope!" you replied happily, dropping your handful of dry spaghetti in the boiling water.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah." You smiled at him, walking past the bar to put your leftover garlic in the pantry on the other side.

As you were walking back, you failed to notice Frank had hopped to the barstool closest to you until he had already sprung his attack. Lightning fast, he snatched you up and pulled you towards him, slipping a hand under your robe to grab at your ass and wrapping the other around your waist to hold you still. He buried his face in your neck, and you felt him shudder and tighten his grip as he inhaled deeply. The special occasion perfume you wore never failed to drive him wild.

"It's just that I feel so useless sitting over here, doing nothing," he purred, his lips tracing patterns across your collarbone.

"You're definitely not doing nothing," you mumbled.

"That right? What am I doin' then, hmm?"

When you didn't respond, Frank slid his hand away from your ass and dragged two of his fingers gently over the lace covering your arousal. When he drew his hand back and held it up, you saw his fingers were significantly shinier than they were before. That was the biggest downside to fancy underwear. Sure, they look nice, but they do nothing to absorb moisture.

"Is that what I'm doing?" You nodded. "Yeah? But I've just been sitting here," Frank teased.

'Goddammit,' you thought. 'How did I ever think I could make it past dinner with this asshole?'

"Know what I think? I think you just like attention. You put on a show for whoever's watching and you get soaked right through, is that it?" He moved his hand back down to start rubbing gentle circles on your clit through the fabric.

"No, I don't," you fussed, pushing at Frank's bicep to try and dislodge his hand. He just pressed down harder, making you desperately wish you could squeeze your thighs together and grind on his fingers until you were dripping on the floor.

"No? Then what is it, sweetheart? What's got you so wet, huh?"

"Just you," you mumbled. "Just your attention."

"Yeah? That's sweet, baby. Well if this is all my fault, then I should do somethin' about it, shouldn't I?"

Unable to fight back any longer, you nodded. The ache in your core was running too deep, and the relief Frank promised seemed more satisfying than any victory possibly could. Grinning dangerously, Frank released you and stood up before pulling you back into a feverish kiss. You got so lost in the contact that you didn't realize Frank was pushing you until your back hit the counter.

Suddenly, Frank's hands traveled down to settle on your upper thighs. This was a signal you were all too familiar with. Barely a second after you felt it, you jumped, wrapping your legs around him as he set you down on the counter.

As soon as he had you where he wanted you, Frank latched onto your neck, kissing and biting wherever he could reach, leaving faint red marks in all your most sensitive places. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and bit your lip hard as voltaic sensations zipped up and down your spine. Frank slipped your robe gently off your shoulders, leaving light kisses along the newly exposed skin.

Frank left a darker bruise on the base of your neck before tenderly grabbing your jaw to trace his tongue along your bottom lip. With one hand (and a little cooperation on your part), he pulled your robe the rest of the way off and tossed it to the side. Then, he began moving slowly down your torso, stopping to nip lightly at your rigid buds through the flowers hiding them and lick a few gentle stripes up your stomach. When he got too far down to bend over comfortably, he pulled his barstool up behind him and tugged you to the edge of the counter before sitting back down.

At first you didn't know what he was planning, but you figured it out pretty quick when he grabbed your legs and tossed them over his shoulders. Your tailbone was aching and the faucet was digging into your back, but you couldn't bring yourself to care when Frank began leaving hot kisses up your thigh. His stubble was rough against your skin and you were secretly hoping you would still be feeling it in the morning.

You felt Franks nose bump against your clit as he swiped his tongue over your obvious wet spot. The sudden feeling surprised you, and you didn't have time to prevent a small whine from slipping out. Smirking, Frank drew his tongue tortuously slowly from the very back of your cunt to your sensitive nub. When he reached it, he sucked gently at it, feeling your thighs tremble around his head.

"Frank, please," you gasped, throwing your head back when he sucked harder.

Frank finally started slipping his fingers in your waistband, and tapped your hip to get you to lift up. He tugged your panties down to your knees and-

*hisssssssssss*

"Oh, shit!" you cried, pushing Frank away from you. Your spaghetti was bubbling over! You hopped off the counter and pulled your underwear back up, running to stir the pasta with your wooden spoon. As soon as you got the water to settle, your timer went off, signaling that it was done.

You grabbed Frank's strainer (which was actually one of yours that you brought over to encourage Frank to eat better) and drained your spaghetti over the sink. While you were shaking out all the water droplets, you looked up to find Frank moping with his head resting in his hand.

"Oh, come on," you said, noticing his pouty face. "What did you want me to do, let your kitchen burn down?"

"You can't start a fire with spaghetti."

"You'd be surprised."

"I just needed five more minutes, baby. That's it," Frank complained.

"Five more minutes and we'd be eating spaghetti-flavored mush," you retorted. "Besides, dinner's just about ready now. You've only gotta wait another half hour, and then you can have whatever you want."

Frank brightened slightly at the prospect, though he tried to hide it. Turns out, after four years of dating, you learn to spot the little emotions flickering behind your partner's eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Don't pretend like you're not enjoying it."

"I just wanna touch you. Why won't you let me touch you, hmm? I know you want me to," Frank grumbled.

"I did let you touch me," you argued back lightheartedly.

"Yeah, but that wasn't part of the plan, was it baby? You're still trying to stay away from me."

"Why does it matter what I'm trying to do if you got what you wanted anyway?" you reasoned.

"I didn't get what I wanted."

"Tough luck. You will."

"You would've lost if it weren't for those fuckin' noodles," Frank jeered.

"Why do you think I set so many timers?"

*ding*

You switched off the oven and grabbed some potholders to extract your garlic bread.

"Go sit at the table. I'll bring you a plate," you ordered.

Frank sighed, but he did as he was told. As the two of you ate together, you actually had a very nice conversation, laughing and talking about your days as if nothing had even happened. Frank told you about a guy that was trying to save the ugliest, most broken car that had ever entered the shop. You told Frank about the return of one of your nightmare customers. For the entire time you were seated at the table, there was no torture whatsoever on either part. You were both content to celebrate your anniversary with good food and the best company you could ask for.

When you were finally done eating and talking, it had been well over half an hour, but it didn't feel like it. Your time spent with Frank never dragged on endlessly like it seemed to elsewhere. His presence was like a multipurpose drug to you, and it worked better than any stimulant or depressant you could find in even the sketchiest of back-alleys in Hell's Kitchen. There was no doubt in your mind that you had found the person you would be spending the rest of your life with.

You stood up to begin clearing your dishes, but Frank caught your wrist before you could touch a single utensil.

"Oh, no you don't," Frank said, pushing you back down into your chair. "You did the hard part, let me handle all the easy stuff."

"Yes, sir," you giggled, watching him work. When everything was cleared, you joined Frank in the kitchen, where you found him rinsing the dishes with warm water and loading them into the dishwasher.

Copying what he had done to you earlier, you wrapped your arms around his midsection, hugging him tightly and pressing your face against his back. He patted your arm with his wet hands, and you smiled into his shoulder before wiping it off on his shirt. Closing your eyes, you relaxed into him, enjoying his warmth and his familiar scent.

"You can just leave them in the sink for now," you suggested sleepily.

"Now who's impatient?" Frank teased.

Groaning softly, you gave him one more big squeeze before letting go and walking away down the hall.

"When you're ready, you can come meet me in the bedroom," you called behind you. Frank finished up pretty quickly after that.

He entered the bedroom to find you laying down with your eyes closed. Smiling at how peaceful you looked, he carefully laid down on the bed next to you. Almost immediately, you rolled over on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his warm chest against your face. He was like your own personal space heater, which made him very useful to have around in the colder months.

You shivered at the feeling of his hand running through your hair. 'How did I ever relax before I met him?' you wondered. You felt dangerously close to falling asleep, and as good as that sounded, there was something you had been looking forward to for a while that sounded significantly better.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you sat straddling Frank's stomach, staring into his eyes and waiting for him to make the first move. You had been having fun all evening; the night belonged to him now.

"I know what you were after earlier, sweetheart. You look a little tired now, is that still what you want?" he asked. He was always so gentle with you. Even when he really wasn't.

"Yeah," you confirmed, "But I want you to do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh? That's a dangerous thing to say, baby."

"I trust you," you whispered. "And I already know I'm gonna like it, whatever you decide."

Frank hummed, running his hands up and down your thighs as he thought about what to do first. You knew he had reached a decision when he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed beside him. You yelped at the sudden motion, looking over at him to see exactly what it was he was trying to do.

Frank was taking his belt off. He slid over to sit in front of you, belt in hand, and pulled you back onto his lap.

"You know I can't let you get away with all that bullshit you pulled back there, right?" he asked patronizingly.

"I mean. . . you could," you responded.

Frank scoffed. "You should shut your mouth before you make this worse for yourself. You wanna get to the fun part, don't you?"

"This is the fun part," you confessed.

Frank grabbed your jaw roughly with one hand, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him.

"You're gonna take that back in a minute, baby," Frank growled. He released your jaw to catch both your wrists in his hands, pinning them behind your back.

"All I wanted when I got home was to make my pretty girl feel good, but you decided to be a fuckin' brat." There was a darkness in his eyes that you knew was just for show, but it thrilled you all the same. "I'm gonna show you exactly what that feels like."

Holding both your wrists in one hand, he took his belt and wrapped it tightly around them, latching the buckle and securing them together. When he was sure it would hold and wasn't too uncomfortable, he pushed you off his lap so you were laying on your back on the bed.

"Now," he said, "I'm gonna finish what we started."

He immediately sprung into action, forcibly spreading your legs and slipping your panties all the way down. He tossed them aside and fit himself between your legs, leaning in to kiss you. At first you weren't sure how this was supposed to be a punishment, but you figured it out pretty quickly.

Frank kissed you so deeply, tugging at your hair and tracing your curves with his fingertips. He gripped your waist and your thighs, his dull fingernails leaving behind little indents when he'd get carried away. He could put his hands all over you, wherever and whenever he wanted, but you couldn't do the same. You wanted to pull him closer and squish his biceps teasingly to make him laugh. You wanted to feel his stubble in your hands and rub his shoulders as he bit your neck. You never realized how important your hands were when kissing someone until they were taken from you.

As Frank took to reinforcing the fading red marks he left earlier, he slipped a hand between your thighs to cup your dripping pussy in his palm. You gasped as he used the heel of his hand to rub it a few times, the pressure creating an addictive friction that had you grinding down against him.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with practiced ease and stroking it gently. You cried out softly at the sudden stretch. Frank's fingers filled you up so much better than yours ever could. Sometimes you swore he knew more about what made you feel good than you knew about yourself.

Your thighs shook as he began pumping his fingers slowly in and out, stopping every so often to grind his palm against your clit. Your arms were falling asleep underneath you, but that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of Frank's hair tickling your stomach as he moved down to replace his fingers with his tongue.

You whined at the loss when he pulled his hand away, but your disappointment didn't last long as he truly began to finish what he'd started. Your thighs clamped down around his head when you felt the first swipe of his tongue, but he forced them back open, his wet fingers marking your thigh with your slick.

You moaned as he gave your cunt several long licks, cleaning up the moisture that had pooled between your folds. The need to reach out and push his head down or grab onto his hair was overwhelming, but you couldn't move. All you could do was take what he gave you. When he decided you'd had enough teasing, he dove in fully, eating you out like it was his favorite thing in the world. He tongued at your clit, sucking it at random intervals to see what noises he could coax out of you. Sometimes, he would lap gently at your entrance, just barely dipping inside so you could feel how empty you really were. He gave you one more rough lick before plunging his fingers back inside you and sucking hard at your clit. You almost sobbed as you came over his hand, trembling through your release. Frank groaned softly against you, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering and pulsing around any part of him.

He patted your thighs lovingly, coming up from between your legs to kiss you. You were still slightly out of it and breathing heavily, but tasting yourself on Frank's tongue brought you back to the present.

"See what you did to me now?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Think we're even, then?"

"Uh-huh," you answered, struggling to sit up with your hands tied.

"I don't."

"What?"

"I didn't let you touch me, but I still made you feel good, didn't I? All you ever did was tease me. Do you still think we're even, baby?" Frank questioned, stroking your lip with his thumb.

"No," you mumbled.

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

Instead of responding verbally, you parted your lips and sucked his thumb gently into your mouth. After a few seconds, Frank pulled it out and replaced it with the two fingers that had previously been inside you, encouraging you to clean them off.

"That's a good start." Frank pulled his fingers back, satisfied with your work. "But you're gonna need to do more than that, sweetheart."

You hesitated, trying to figure out how you were supposed to lean forward without falling flat on your face.

"You know what I want, baby," he encouraged. "What are you waiting for?" Frank knew very well what you were waiting for, but his sadistic side wanted to watch you figure it out.

Rising up onto your knees, you spread your thighs apart for better balance, and slowly began to lower your head towards Frank's zipper. You made it all the way down without crashing, but you refused to make a fool out of yourself by trying to unbutton his pants with your teeth. Instead, you gazed up at him desperately, pleading for assistance with just your eyes.

Unfortunately, Frank wasn't budging. He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, letting you know you were gonna have to work for it. Huffing, you lowered your gaze back to the zipper, bracing yourself for your impending embarrassment. You were just about to attack his button with your tongue when you were struck by an idea. There was more than one way you could work for it.

Leaning in closer, you started mouthing at his bulge, kissing it wetly through the fabric. You could tell it was affecting him by the way he twitched under your tongue when you licked lovingly at (what you hoped was) the tip. Using your nose, you nudged at the hem of Frank's t-shirt, and he pulled it up for you so you could leave little red marks and sweet kisses across his abs. Frank grunted quietly when you sucked at a sensitive spot, petting your head softly so you'd do it again. He was really enjoying the sight of you bent over, begging for his cock with your mouth. So much so, that he almost didn't want to give it to you.

He held out for a while, only giving in when the warmth of your mouth soaked fully through his jeans, wetting his dick and making him want more.

"Shit, alright," he groaned, reaching down to unzip his jeans. He tugged them down just enough to get to his boxers, reaching inside to pull out his hard, leaking cock.

"There," he murmured, tapping it sweetly against your cheek. "Have at it, pretty girl."

You were concerned about catching it in your mouth without your hands, but Frank generously decided you didn't have to everything on your own. When you turned your head towards it, he held it still and fed it to you slowly, stroking your hair as you went at your own pace.

You paused for a little while in the beginning to pay attention to his dripping head, laving at the sensitive bottom and sucking softly at the tip. You left a dainty lick on his slit before you took more of him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around his length. You stared up at him as you dragged your tongue teasingly along the underside, tracing a prominent vein that you were very familiar with.

Frank's breathing was getting heavier, letting you know you were doing a good job. Feeling emboldened, you carefully took him all the way to the base, choking softly as he hit the back of your throat.

"Attagirl, fuck," Frank breathed, pushing your head down farther. He held you there for a moment, subtly grinding his cock against the roof of your mouth. Jolting at the feeling, he pushed a little too hard by accident, triggering your gag reflex. You pulled back to catch your breath before continuing to bob your head up and down along his length, taking him as deep as you could without coughing. Before long, your jaw was aching and tears were streaming down your cheeks from choking a few too many times.

Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes of working Frank over with nothing but your mouth, he groaned deeply, signaling his impending release.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" he warned, sighing as he came in hot ribbons down your throat. You closed your eyes and relaxed into the feeling of his cock pulsing on your tongue, waiting for it to soften slightly before letting it fall from your mouth.

You sat back up and watched Frank pull his pants the rest of the way off before tucking himself back into his underwear.

"Are we even now?" you asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Frank smiled. "Come here, I'll get you untied real quick."

You turned away from him so he could take the belt off you, wiggling your fingers and rolling your wrists to regain the feeling you had lost in your hands. Twisting back around, you pounced, knocking him flat on his back and pushing his shirt up as far as it would go. Making up for lost time, you began rubbing at his chest and his shoulders, and tracing his abs with your fingertips. He chuckled at your neediness, pulling his shirt off to give you better access, which you happily took advantage of. Cradling his face in your hands, you left dozens of little kisses all over his mouth and his neck. It felt so good to be able to touch him again, you didn't think you would ever let go.

Still holding you close to him, Frank turned so his back was against the headboard and he could cuddle you in a more comfortable position. For a while, you laid in silence, syncing your breathing with his and seeing if you could find a way to match your heartbeats. So far, not much luck, but you were sure you'd figure it out someday.

Checking the clock on the nightstand, you saw that you'd been laying there for about ten minutes. "That should be enough time," you thought. You looked up to find Frank's eyes closed, but you knew he was awake.

"Frankie?" you called, almost inaudibly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think it's time for the 'fun part' now?"

Frank smiled. "Do you want it to be?"

He opened his eyes, watching you closely as you unfastened your bra in the back, and slipped it off slowly. You dropped it on the bed beside you, leaving you completely exposed for Frank to admire you.

"Yeah, I do," you whispered.

Frank surged up to kiss you again, this time much gentler than before. He ran his hands up your sides to tenderly massage your bare chest. You whimpered into the kiss as he rubbed at your nipples, the little buds sensitive from being previously neglected.

Feeling impatient, you tugged his boxers down and quickly began stroking his growing length. Frank hissed at the shock, but he was thrusting up into your hand before too long. As soon as he was half hard, you lifted up and positioned his cock at your entrance before sinking down all the way. You cried out at the intrusion, feeling him curve perfectly inside you to brush your sweet spot on every thrust.

You sat there for a minute, just barely circling your hips as you focused on the feeling of him hardening fully inside you. When he was finished growing, you began to ride him, slowly pushing your body up and down on his cock as he raised his hips to meet you half-way.

Frank punched little noises out of your chest with every bounce, leaning in to hide his face in your neck. He breathed in the wonderful scent of sweat, sex, and expensive perfume, groaning desperately into your skin.

After a while of thrusting and grinding and bouncing, your thighs began to ache, and you weren't able to maintain the same speed anymore. Picking up on your sudden change, Frank took charge almost on autopilot, and flipped you over so you were underneath him.

You moaned at the relief and the change in tempo as he fucked into you faster and harder and deeper, but still with so much love and care behind every movement. When you caught his eyes, it felt like you were staring into your future, and you saw nothing but inevitable happiness.

Your gasps and whines got louder and louder as you chased your release. Your soaked cunt was pulling Frank back in harder, squeezing tight around him to try and keep him from pulling out. Every sensation you were feeling kept building and building until finally, the tension snapped. You almost screamed as your climax washed over you like a rising tide, whiting out your vision and sending waves of pleasure washing over you.

Frank was right behind you, as the feeling of your walls constricting and fluttering around him pushed him over the edge. He came deep inside you, filling you up perfectly before pulling out carefully and collapsing beside you.

The two of you laid next to each other, holding each other tightly and soaking up the afterglow permeating the air all around you. You couldn't have asked for a better anniversary, or a better special someone to share it with. In that moment, as you got ready to drift off to sleep, everything was perfect.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #the punisher

726 notes · View notes

satans-helper · 5 months ago

Text

Loopy

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Danny Wagner

Word Count: ~4900

Warnings: 420 blaze it; stoned sex ft. frottage. 18+ only

Just wanted to write about these two, specifically from around 2019 <3 Hope you enjoy!

---

“Shit,” Danny muttered breathlessly, leaning back in the driver’s seat. The windows were all up and all fogged so the outside world was almost entirely invisible–that was just fine with Josh, who was sitting in the passenger seat, basking in the warmth and the musky, earthy fragrance that filled the small space. Danny sighed contentedly and rolled his head to the side, looking right at him as he said, “I wish I could feel like this forever.”

Josh giggled a little, already way higher than he expected to get. Actually, he hadn’t expected to get high at all–he’d expected to just meet Danny at their usual spot, swap cash for weed and part ways. They smoked together after the deal was done fairly often, but not every time, and today Danny had seemed oddly on edge before they started smoking.

“Don’t you feel like this most of the time?” Josh quipped, flicking the lighter back to life to take another hit. Was smoking yourself sober a real thing? If so, he thought he might inadvertently make it happen if they smoked anymore. He thought of himself as a certified stoner, but Danny lived on another planet.

Danny laughed louder than Josh had ever heard him, tilting his head back so he was looking out into the fogged glass. “Most of the time, yeah. It’s par for the course, man,” he said. When he reached for the bowl that Josh passed back, their fingers brushed and Josh’s whole hand tingled so much with the touch, it was like Danny was made of lightning.

An onset of loud pitter-patters began to hit the car; fat droplets of rain smacked the windows and made glossy trails. Josh watched them, each one seeming to move in slow motion, and the music from the car stereo began to drown out with the sound of the heavy downpour.

“Oh, man,” Danny remarked, tapping on his window and peering out. “Look at that.”

Josh followed his gaze out the driver’s side, managing a glimpse of billowing wet, green leaves outside through the fog. It was so cozy inside the car, inside the haze, sitting with his own nervous but excited energy and Danny’s friendly, easygoing presence. He didn’t want to leave. He’d keep smoking until the whole half ounce he bought was gone if it meant more time together.

Danny answered Josh’s silent plea by announcing, turning again to look into his dry, slightly bleary eyes: “Looks like we’re not going anywhere for a bit. Want me to pack another?”

Josh’s heart hammered along with the rain. “I can do it,” he offered, already reaching for the bag of weed he’d bought.

Danny gave a playful, light shove to his shoulder. “Nah, stop it. I said I’d smoke you up, so let me smoke you up.” He grinned while he retrieved the little plastic jar he was keeping his current stash in. “Save yours for another rainy day. Right?”

Normally, Josh was sure he’d have something cute and witty to reply with. But he was so stoned and so giddy with his elation of being mere inches away from Danny that his brain felt like nothing more than a mass of candy-colored swirls, his usual thoughts lost in the mix. He hadn’t had a crush like this in ages, and never did he think he’d ever be down bad for a dealer. Not that he had anything against dealers, at least not people who sold the “soft” stuff–he had lots of experience with plenty of them since high school–but Danny was just different.

And gorgeous. Josh had noticed that right away. Danny was gorgeous now, with the faint pink flush across the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones; the way his dark, loose curls fell against his shoulders, the ends brushing against his collarbones that were just barely visible thanks to the few undone buttons of his shirt. Josh could even see a bit of his chest hair, stark in color and contrasting with the subtle golden hue of his skin. Josh found himself staring at that triangular spot of skin revealed between the flannel shirt, counting his chest hairs, wondering what his skin would feel like under his hands.

“What?” Danny asked, breaking the trance. When Josh looked up, he was quickly put under another spell because those damn eyes–he could get lost in them. Lost in them like the deep, dark and mysterious woods they resembled, all lush and mossy and scattered with patches of sunlight. Actually, Josh thought, slightly amused, a little like some really good, dank buds.

“What?” Josh chirped back, his face growing hot. His whole body really, and it wasn’t just the weed anymore. He was embarrassed–not an emotion he frequently felt. Danny just did that to him. Every time they met up for Josh to buy, his heart would go wild. It had taken a few deals for his hands to stop shaking when they exchanged goods. Now, he felt like he was back at square one and his only relief would be the usual–going home to have a slow, fuzzy jerk-off session while thinking about Danny’s hand wrapped around his cock instead of his own.

“You were staring at me,” Danny said, his own face looking even more flushed. Was it the weed or was it–no, no way it could be Danny also being embarrassed. What did he have to be embarrassed about? But his hands were idle, no longer working to pack the next bowl, as if waiting for Josh to speak some sort of revelation.

Maybe it was a revelation, because Josh felt so bold for no good reason that he actually said, “Yeah. You’re hard to not stare at.”

Danny looked away, eyes on the dashboard for a split second before he looked back at Josh. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Josh scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh come on,” he said, his shaky hands also returning. He started something here–he just wasn’t sure what. Hope was a loose thread in his heart, but his high head was veering into the land of paranoia, and if Danny wasn’t at least going to be nice about letting him down, Josh was sure he’d never recover.

“Sooo,” Danny began as he began to finally crumble the weed into the bowl, head down and giving Josh a perfect view of that perfect profile. “In a good way?”

“In a very good way.” Josh licked the backs of his bottom teeth, trying to awaken some saliva and curb the intense cottonmouth that was only getting worse with his nerves. It was so bad he was half-tempted to open the window and stick his head out, open his mouth and try to catch some of the rainfall.

The smallest smile curved Danny’s lips. “Thanks,” he said, thumb and forefinger placing the last crumb of weed into the bowl. “You’re cute.”

Josh felt like his brain fully short-circuited at the sound of those words. He’d heard it a thousand times from a thousand different people but hearing it from Danny was, well, different. The compliment reverberated and echoed in his ears, sounding louder than the song from the stereo and the rain still hammering the car.

“You’re the hottest dealer I’ve ever had,” Josh said. It was the first thing he clearly thought and despite being a cheap compliment, he hoped against all hope that it would work in his favor.

Danny laughed, tossing his head back, so loud again–Josh loved that sound. He wanted to hear it more often. He wanted to make Danny laugh like that all the time.

“How many dealers have you had?” he asked, pivoting in his seat so one leg was cocked, one foot on the floor, eyes locked on Josh as he christened the new bowl with the flame. Josh’s eyes wandered down to the apex of Danny’s thighs covered in blue denim, briefly zeroing in on the zipper fly that was slightly bulging.

“Um–enough to know I’m not gonna find another one as hot as you?” Josh replied, not intending it to come out insecure and like a question. But Danny’s gaze was suddenly intense and piercing, like the single hit had supercharged him with intimidating confidence. Josh also had to hold out hope that the bowl being passed to him again would do the same.

Danny leaned back, one arm slung across the driver’s seat while the other rested on the dashboard. He was as spread out as he could be, taking up space while simultaneously keeping his body so open that Josh knew he could easily crawl over to him and close the gap, share the space with him. He was silent as Josh took his hit, still looking right at him, lips slightly pursed in thought, brows just ever so slightly furrowed.

Screw short-circuiting–Josh had to wonder if he was straight-up tripping when Danny asked, “Do you get horny when you smoke?”

Josh coughed wildly, bringing a hand to his chest from shock and the sharp discomfort in his lungs. He shoved the bowl back at Danny and waved the plume of smoke away from his face so he could see whatever facial expression Danny was wearing–his face was calm, curious, his eyes searching Josh’s face too, waiting for an answer.

At least he didn’t have to doubt anymore. This was it, Josh deduced–the invitation he’d only ever dreamed of.

He inched closer in the passenger seat, sidling up against the center console. He’d peeked in there earlier when Danny had opened it–CDs, a phone charger, numerous lighters, rolling papers, a mini bottle of Listerine. It all made sense. Now, pressed up against it, Josh was wondering what was in Danny’s other compartments–what did he keep in the top drawer of his dresser? His bedroom nightstand? What cereals were in his kitchen cupboard? What on earth was the cologne he was wearing that smelled so warm and rich even through the dense scent of weed and where did he keep the bottle?

Josh wasn’t used to racing thoughts while stoned. He wanted to be grounded. He wanted to crawl into the space between Danny’s thighs and kiss his flushed cheeks and bite his lip, run his fingers through his chest hair with one hand and use the other to tug on his hair.

“Sometimes, yeah,” Josh finally answered. He was horny. He was half-hard in his pants just from Danny’s presence and the brief conversation, if that was even the right word for it.

The hand on the dashboard slowly moved away and down–Josh swallowed hard, confused and entranced, as he watched Danny palm himself through his jeans. “Me too,” he said, his thumb running over the zipper of his fly. He coughed a little and smiled. “Like right now.”

“Fuck,” was all Josh could say, mind still racing while simultaneously feeling foggy, as foggy as the car’s interior and windows.

“Sure,” Danny said, and Josh was frozen as his long body allowed him to fluidly slink forward past the center console–then Josh was forced to move because two of Danny’s fingers were hooked in his necklace and tugging him forward.

He closed his eyes just before the kiss came, too stunned and bewildered to watch the whole thing in motion. Everything faded away–the music, the rain, the air blowing from the vents, the smell of the weed–when Danny’s lips found his. Josh relaxed into the kiss, his shoulders slumping; when Danny’s hands gently fumbled on his hips, Josh brought his hands up to cradle his face, finally feeling the warm, soft skin he’d imagined so many times.

“Is this really happening?” he mumbled against Danny’s lips as the kisses became a little faster, a little deeper. His hands were finding those curls, his fingers sinking into each strand of hair, to keep Danny in place like he’d float away if he didn’t.

“If you want it to,” Danny said, one hand on the back of Josh’s neck, the other still on his hip. Before Josh could even try to answer with words, Danny kissed him harder, moaning softly, trying to pull him forward some more.

Josh went with it. Although his limbs felt heavy and stiff as he crawled over the console and into the driver’s seat, as soon as he was pressed up against Danny’s body, he felt loose and relaxed. Just how he’d felt when they’d first started smoking and his fantasies were just fantasies and he could zone out with the high, lost in blissful images. Now, his weed high was being replaced by a different one–a high made of soft kisses, urgent touches and the intoxicating scent of that cologne that was stuck to Danny’s skin, all a welcome torrent of blissful and real sensations.

“I really want to,” Josh told him, unbuttoning Danny’s shirt to further prove it. He was finding his words again, but there was still too much he wanted to say, all these desires from their compounded meetings coming to fruition. So he settled for rutting his hips against Danny’s; Danny grabbed Josh’s ass and pulled him right into his lap, and Josh ducked down to keep kissing him.

The swapping of spit kept his tongue and lips comfortably moist, and Danny tasted like the same weed they’d been smoking and the sharp mint that Josh could assume came from that bottle of Listerine. Had he wanted this to happen too or was swishing and spitting just a habit? Their hands wandered easily over each other’s bodies as Josh considered this; their kisses were slow and steady, and the rain outside kept coming down, adding to the strangely cozy nature of the progressing rendez-vous.

It was all really happening, and all of Josh’s prior doubts were falling away. It seemed so silly now to think that Danny had never thought of some of the same things. When Josh tugged Danny’s shirt apart and rubbed his thumbs over his nipples, Danny arched his back and dug his fingers into Josh’s waist with a deep groan.

“God, you’re sexy,” Josh remarked quietly, looking at Danny’s face again before he started to press soft kisses to his neck. Between them, he could feel Danny’s erection pressing against his own, both of them trapped in their respective pants. Confined to a car, how much could they really comfortably do? Josh wished they were back at his place, or Danny’s even, on a big, soft bed instead of the narrow, firm upholstered seats.

Not that he ultimately really minded; Danny didn’t seem to either. His hands were slipping beneath Josh’s t-shirt, ticklish touches across his stomach; Josh giggled into the crook of his neck and Danny chuckled softly as one hand wandered back down and landed on Josh’s crotch.

Just the dull sensation of Danny cupping him through his pants made Josh’s head spin–he wanted more, as much as he could get. He cupped Danny’s cheeks and pulled him into another kiss as he began to grind in his lap, trying to make some more friction. The scant metal of Danny’s zipper and button were proving nice to rub up against, but he still needed more; he reached down to get it undone, Danny nibbling on his bottom lip at the same time.

Danny let out a little huff as Josh grabbed his cock, feeling the size and heat of it through his boxers. Josh broke their languid kisses to look down at what he was feeling–Danny was big, definitely. He’d figured as much.

Danny put a hand on the back of Josh’s neck, his fingertips brushing through his curls: “Wanna see it?”

Josh nodded, their foreheads pressed together; Danny leaned back and Josh sat back, giving him the bit of space that was possible. Danny brought his hands down to take it out himself and Josh’s mouth was even less dry at the sight of Danny’s cock–big and hard, the head a darker pink and already leaking the tiniest bit of pearly precum. When Danny wrapped his hand around it–his big hand with the long fingers–not even he could cover the entire shaft. Josh just kept staring as Danny lifted his hips and pulled his boxers and jeans down a few inches, exposing his balls and the tops of his thighs, too fixated to know what to do with himself.

Danny gave a shallow nod, his eyes on Josh’s groin. “I wanna see you too,” he said, his voice low and inviting, as he gave one long, easy stroke to himself.

There was barely enough room on the driver’s side for even Josh to mirror Danny’s prior actions with a modicum of grace. His elbow banged into the dashboard when he pulled his pants down; Danny chuckled and laid a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Damn,” Danny said, his gaze still on Josh’s groin that was now bared straight to him. Danny’s face was slightly blurred in the lingering haze of smoke and humidity, but when he started to inch closer, closing the gap by pushing Josh back against the center console, Josh’s vision of him became clearer. Josh laid back against it, looking up at him until he winced at the hard plastic digging into the back of his neck.

“That’s no good,” Danny remarked, then he was shrugging himself out of his shirt and stuffing it beneath Josh’s neck and upper back, giving a shallow, warm and fragrant cushion. He sighed softly as he let his lower body rest on top of Josh’s. “Is that any better?”

Distracted by the first subtle but still intense contact of their erections being pushed together, Josh forgot to answer right away. When he saw Danny smile a little and felt fingers gently running down his neck, Josh said, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s better.” He placed his hands on Danny’s bare waist, one skimming down and over so he could touch the dark happy trail beneath his navel. “Still kinda wish we were on a bed though. Or a couch.”

Danny rolled his hips a bit, really rubbing their cocks together. “Next time,” he said, planting the hand that wasn’t traveling across Josh’s chest onto the center console, right next to his head.

“There’ll be a next time?” Josh asked, tensing with grueling anticipation as Danny let a long string of saliva slide down from his lips and onto their cocks. He gripped Danny’s waist harder, the skin beneath his fingers turning red with his squeezing.

Danny slid the spit around both of them, his fist a tight vice that kept both of their cocks together within; he nodded, looking down at what he was doing between them for a moment, then met Josh’s gaze again. “For sure,” he said, the sound of his voice and the simple but titillating words looping through Josh’s brain. The hand between them was gone, replaced by more of his weight pressing down, then Danny was kissing Josh again, taking the air right from his lungs and the words right from his tongue.

Confined to the small space of the car, locked in all of his clothes, trapped beneath nearly the full weight of Danny on top of him–so much potential for discomfort, to feel helpless and stuck. But Josh felt nothing but bliss and wanting, the wanting so deep and aching now that Danny really was there on top of him, grinding their hips together and kissing him hard and fast, moaning softly against his lips and playing with his hair with his spit-dampened fingers. Josh felt like he could stay there and keep doing all of that forever.

“I know it’s not the same,” Danny said, speaking against Josh’s lips before he kissed him again, then pulled back from the kiss as his hips pushed forward. “But y’know–given the circumstances–”

“No, no,” Josh said, breathless and wrapping his arms around Danny’s shoulders. “It’s good.” He couldn’t do much in his position, but he was able to grind upwards for a couple seconds, moving with Danny’s rhythm. The friction they were creating and the new high they were chasing might not have been the same, but that didn’t make it any less perfect.

Danny let out a small huff with his efforts, grinding harder, shoving the weight of his lower body straight down in a surprisingly concentrated way. Josh bit his lip, stifling what he thought might be too pathetic of a whine, but Danny intercepted with another kiss. He swiped the tip of his tongue over the slight tooth imprint in Josh’s bottom lip and caressed his face; the intimacy forced a real whine from Josh’s throat that was caught between their mouths, and he could feel the slight smile on Danny’s lips after the sound tore out of him.

Josh could feel more needy, desperate sounds building up in his chest. When Danny broke away and braced his hand on the center console again, keeping himself propped up while he looked down, Josh kept the sounds locked in his throat. There was no way he could let them out when Danny was looking at him like that, deeply into his eyes with such an open, vulnerable gaze; he didn’t even need to say anything. Josh could see the same desire he felt reflected in Danny’s eyes, and his pupils had become so huge that he could just barely make out his own literal reflection in the blackness. And Danny’s skin, so silky and rosy–his face, but his body too. His chest was flushed and his entire body was vividly warm on top of Josh’s; when Josh took half a second to glance at the windows, he couldn’t see the outside world at all anymore.

A little line creased between Danny’s eyebrows as his jaw visibly tightened and he let out a low, quiet groan. “God, Josh,” he said, so soft and so sweet were those words from his swollen pink lips. It looked like he was going to say something else, but then he was spitting into his hand, leaning back and wrapping that hand around both his and Josh’s cock, jerking them both off with a shocking onset of gusto.

Josh’s back arched and a loud, long moan ripped right out of him. He reached out to grab Danny’s hip, hooking his thumb through the belt loop of his jeans to encourage Danny even more; he closed his eyes, sinking even further into the feelings and the sounds, but then Danny said his name again.

“I want you to come so hard,” Danny said, looking wild and beautiful, so much so that Josh had no doubts about obliging. Just hearing the slight growl in those words and seeing the way Danny’s hair fell against his shoulders, the way his throat bobbed as he threw his head back, was more than enough to bring Josh right to the edge.

“Fuck yes, that’s it,” Danny hissed, looking down at what Josh could feel was both of their generous streams of precum mixing together in his hand. Danny kept stroking–Josh kept panting and whimpering and staring at him as the smooth velvet of Danny’s cock rubbed against his own, the spit and precum keeping the slide sticky, the friction luxuriously wet.

Josh was surprised–and delighted–that Danny came first. He threw his head back again as he moaned; Josh watched his shoulders shudder and his chest heave, then looked down at his hips stuttering and the motion of his arm and hand slow down. He could feel the additional warm, wet stickiness of Danny’s cum that made him want to come too.

With a sigh, Danny let go of himself. He brought his full focus to Josh, keeping his hand wrapped solely around his throbbing wet erection; Josh squirmed while his own chest heaved hard, his breathing ragged, and then his vision was blurring and blacking out entirely as his eyes closed of their own volition. But as his own orgasm rolled through his body and he spilled into Danny’s hand, within the blackness behind his eyes, Josh could still see only him.

When he opened his eyes, Danny was still there, of course. He looked calm and relaxed–he was still perched on top of Josh but his weight had diminished with the slackness of his body and the release of all that energy. The same went for Josh, who was loose like goo in the middle of the front seats, still trying to catch his breath as Danny ducked down to kiss him all gentle and sweet.

“You’re really something,” Danny said when he was sitting back, creating space between them for the first time in which Josh could only guess how long. He wiped his hand on his discarded shirt, then lifted his hips up from the driver’s seat to pull his boxers and jeans back up; Josh managed to do the same after a couple more seconds of collecting his mental bearings.

Flopping back into the passenger seat, Josh said, “So are you, Danny.” He wished the center console didn’t exist at all so he could stay close without it being awkward–the idea of trying to cuddle, crammed in the driver’s seat together, wasn’t really romantic. But just as Josh was once again dashing away his own little hopes, Danny whisked them to life again by leaning straight across the front of the car and pressing his clean hand to Josh��s cheek.

“I really like your face,” he said, making Josh’s heart ramp up again. Danny’s fingers brushed over his cheekbone and then his jaw before it was gone and Josh just felt the residual tingle of where his touch once had been.

“I really like yours too,” Josh told him, sparing a quick look at the slight bit of himself that he could catch in the rearview mirror while Danny put his dirty shirt back on. He couldn’t see much, so he hoped he didn’t look as wrecked as he felt–Danny looked depleted but glorious behind the wheel again, and excitement bubbled in Josh’s belly when he lifted the bowl to light again.

Danny exhaled more smoke, then passed the bowl and lighter over to Josh. “I really like you, Josh. As a whole person,” he said, looking a little shy again. God, it was so cute. Josh had to look away as he took his hit, trying to find a little composure. “It sounds lame, but I’m really glad you started buying from me.”

Josh laughed. The single hit of weed seemed to reignite his previous high, in addition to Danny’s charm. “Yeah, I’m glad about that too. Is it safe to say that, after all this, I’m your favorite customer?”

Danny laughed too. He backed up against the driver door, facing Josh, legs splayed as much as he could. “No doubt about it.” He leaned forward to take the bowl Josh passed back and let his fingers linger on Josh’s hand, keeping them suspended in air for a moment. “I’ll always smoke you up. But maybe next time, we could do something else too?”

Josh was delighted. He perked up in the passenger seat, Danny’s question echoing in his ears along with the rain that was still pounding down. “Something else in addition to doing this but in a bed instead of a car?”

Another laugh. Danny nodded with the bowl to his lips. “Exactly,” he said, slightly strained with the smoke in his lungs before he exhaled. He smiled, eyes bright. “What do you think?”

“So like…a date?” Josh asked, able to picture it so easily. They’d talked a bit about what else they like to do–he could imagine romping around outside somewhere with Danny, holding hands while they walked a trail with the sun high above their heads. He’d be happy with just about anything.

“Yeah, a date,” Danny affirmed, then cleared his throat. “If you want.” He looked away, his dark hair shielding his face, until Josh took it upon himself to crawl back over the console and sidle up against him.

“It’s really adorable when you’re shy,” he said, resting his cheek on Danny’s shoulder. “But you should know that I’ve been thinking about doing all sorts of things with you since the first time we met.”

“Oh,” Danny said, chuckling. He tilted his head to rest on top of Josh’s. “That’s good, because I’ve been a little loopy for you since the first time too.”

Josh smiled to himself. “Am I just flattering myself, or might that be why you seemed a little edgy earlier?”

Danny slid his arm around Josh’s waist and squeezed him a bit, warm and strong. “Yeah. You make me nervous.”

“Same,” Josh said with a short bark of a laugh, so surprised again, so overjoyed that his world had been illuminated within what would have otherwise just been a slow, dreary afternoon. He was wholly content to hang out there in the dank air, content to be crammed in the car cuddling with Danny until the rain finally stopped.

---

Tagging: @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @brokebellsgvf @heckingfrick @wetkleenex-gvf @kissingsun

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

#Greta van fleet #gvf #Danny wagner #Danny gvf #Josh kiszka #Josh gvf #Danny Wagner x Josh kiszka #gvf fanfiction #gvf slash #gvf smut

60 notes · View notes

rune-writes · 1 month ago

Text

i have loved you for as long as time itself

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Word count: 1595

Rating: G

Pairing: Xavier/MC

Summary: The first time Xavier saw you, it was raining flowers.

Notes: I couldn't get Xavier's birthday event music out of my head, so I ended up writing something :')) (also somewhat inspired by the flower mentioned in the event - the Wavyleaf Sea Lavender, which apparently means "Eternal Love" in-game)

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time I saw you, it was raining flowers.

The spring breeze had arrived, tugging loose cherry blossoms from overhanging boughs. They danced in the wind, circling around you like metals drawn to a magnet. You smiled and laughed when you noticed, your dainty fingers reaching up to one of the stray petals. You held it to a friend, who scoffed and brushed the flowers from your hair. As though on cue, the lights turned green to walk. Your friend pulled at your arm and the two of you crossed the road.

Unlike the blossoms that glided elsewhere with the breeze, my eyes followed you—glued as they were to the back of your head, wishing you’d turn but hoping you wouldn’t notice, because then I could watch you for as long as I wanted.

You reached the other side of the street, and the lights turned red. My heart did a little flip when you did pause and shift on your feet. I turned back to my book, flipping the page as though nothing had occurred. Only, when I dared another glimpse, you were only laughing at what your friend had said.

You didn’t notice me.

Thank God, I inwardly said, ignoring the sting in my chest and the lump forming in my throat.

***

I worked part-time at an acquaintance’s book store, though I wouldn’t really call it a part-time job. I was mostly helping him mind the shop whenever he had somewhere else to be, but he came to appreciate my help, and so I would drop by every other afternoon when I had nothing else to do.

The shop was small and rather old—an antique, one might say. A lot of the books were worn and dusty. I would air them out and even offer to clean the shelves from time to time. They didn’t have a lot of customers, so the owner often let me take a book and read it on the sitting area by the store window.

That’s how I knew the exact time you would be coming home from school.

The store lay on the way between your home and school, apparently. Contrary to popular belief, I hadn’t known that, but Jeremiah didn’t believe me. He thought I had purposefully sought the store owner and planted myself in his life all so that one day I could have the opportunity to work part-time here and quietly watched over you going to-and-fro school. For one, I didn’t have that much free time. For another, planning that much ahead sounded like a pain, so of course I hadn’t done that.

It was purely a pleasant surprise when I spotted you outside the store. A glimpse of raven hair; a familiar uniform of a different color; you were almost always accompanied by that friend of yours: the girl with the short brown hair. The first time I spotted you, I had rushed out, still wearing the store’s green apron and holding a duster on one hand. You’d already gone, the lilt of your familiar voice the only thing trailing behind.

The clock chimed 4:30 PM. The store was quiet, like always. I set my book down on my lap and looked out the window. Right on time, you entered my vision; but this time, you were alone.

I expected you to move along like you always did. I’d found myself content just being able to see you like this. But you stopped in front of the store. You looked at something on your hand, then looked at the sign above the door. I knew what you were going to do, but hadn’t quite processed the idea that you would actually enter the store until you pushed open the door and the bell jingled overhead.

Your eyes met mine, and I froze.

“Hello,” you said.

The bell jingled again when the door closed behind you.

At my silence, you tried again: “I was hoping to look for a book. It’s for literature class. I couldn’t find it in the stores I usually frequent, so I was hoping I could look for it… here? I heard you sell a lot of old books…”

I should say something—anything—but my mind had frozen in shock. All I could think of was how and why you were even here. Had I been caught? Had you noticed me somehow? But you stood there, in your autumn uniform, your sleek black hair falling to your back and swaying with each movement of your head as you tilt it in confusion.

“Um… hello?” you said again, and I blinked.

“I’m sorry. Did you say you were looking for a book?” I stood from the chair and brought my book back to its shelf. You followed me to the cashier counter. “Can you let me know the title? I’ll look for it in our catalog.”

You didn’t know me—didn’t remember me. Of course; what had I expected? You weren’t you. You weren’t her. And yet you were her, and I couldn’t see you as anything but her.

I didn’t know how I managed to keep my composure the entire time you were here, but I helped you find your book, and I kept the amiable clerk smile throughout the transaction. When you smiled your thanks, it was all I could do not to scream.

Later, I found the owner and told him I couldn’t mind the store any longer.

***

“And you left, just like that.”

Jeremiah didn’t even spare me a glance as he moved down the aisle, spraying his flowers as he went. I’d stopped by under the pretext of helping him, but it hadn’t taken long before he noticed something was wrong.

“I didn’t leave,” I said. “It was already high time for me to look for somewhere else to work anyway. I’ve stayed there for longer than I should’ve.”

This time, Jeremiah did look at me. He didn’t say anything, however—except, he sprayed water at the back of my head. I whirled at him, ready to give him my own attack, but the look on his face stopped me in my tracks.

“Fool.” His brows turned down in a sympathetic grimace.

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t need him to. I’m not daft enough to not notice that I was running away. But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t risk you recognizing me.

The turmoil in my heart tore my insides out. I ended up spraying water at Jeremiah too, who later froze.

Thus began our water-spraying fight in his greenhouse that lasted for almost an hour.

***

Jeremiah was right; I was a fool. Even after I had left the bookstore, my eyes kept searching for your shadow—at the intersection of a crossroad… or under a blooming cherry blossom tree. The lilt of a familiar voice or a glimpse of raven-black hair would have me looking up, but you were never there. It was never you.

Perhaps it was for the best. Memories were meant to be buried. No longer could we share a laugh or frolick like in our bygone days. It wasn’t my first time losing you. As long as a fraction of you stayed alive, there was nothing else I would ask for. I could live with this pain a thousand-time fold.

Or so I had thought.

And yet here you now stood, a few years older than the last time we had met.

You looked at me in that way that told me you were thinking of something hard. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Old habits died hard. You were not you, yet deep down it seemed you were still you.

“Why are you laughing?” Your lips quirked into a familiar pout that reminded me of another you in a distant lifetime. But I found that image of you had blurred, like trying to see through a murky glass, or a rippling pool. I saw you there, but should I reach out, the water would break, and your mirage gone. In its place was a reflection, clear as any day, of a you that wasn’t quite the same but still you nonetheless.

I smiled, a tender affection slipping beneath the cracks of my indifferent mask, but I didn’t care if you saw. I had loved you for as long as time itself.

I picked the blooms sprouting in the undergrowth. The small blue petals felt delicate to the touch. I remembered a similar flower growing in Philos; remembered us spending an afternoon idly sleeping on a field of them. You’d weaved them into a crown and set it on top of my head. Your smile then had been radiant.

“Do you know what these are called?” I asked.

“Wavyleaf Sea Lavender?”

I rose to my feet, then slipped the little blossoms in your hair. You flinched in surprise but didn’t back away. We weren’t as close yet, so you might have thought it was bold of me to slip flowers in your hair, but I was glad that you, at least, didn’t slap my hand away.

I smiled at that. “It looks good on you.”

You cocked your head, face conflicted between curiosity and bewilderment. I could see that you wanted to call me mad; and perhaps, I was. I wouldn’t have been surprised had you done so. But in the end, you pulled your phone from inside your bag and used it as a mirror. Your pleasant astonishment was a sight to see. “It does look pretty,” you said. The smile that parted your lips was as brilliant as I remembered.

~ END ~

#love and deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #l&ds #lads #lnds #l&ds xavier #lads xavier #l&ds fic #xavier fic #lads fic #fanfiction #lnds fanfic

28 notes · View notes

writefandoms · 2 years ago

Text

Monster

Vlad Dracula Tepes x Reader x Lisa Tepes

Summary: You and Vlad get into a disagreement, and some things are said.

Word Count: 1.5k

A mortal being.

That’s what you were.

No fangs, just blunt canines. No claws, only partially bitten nails. No strength beyond what your human muscles can accomplish.

Knowing the strength of even the lowest of vampires is enough to keep you up at night. One punch is enough to shatter you like the puny human you are.

As mortal as the blonde doctor who has reservation in your heart.

And him. The strongest of all. Vlad Dracula Tepes.

His strength is his own- you know this. But that doesn’t stop the notion of having The Dracula, as your protector, at your side.

He’s beyond any being you’ve ever encountered in your few decades. Never one to get violent around those he holds dear, that doesn’t prevent the small glimpses of power he unconsciously displays.

The love you hold for the vampire and the doctor is too much- overwhelming nearly. It’s hard to be an addition to an already established relationship- the notion of being easily removable isn’t lost on you. A fear that one day you’ll be back in your small cabin in the village of Lupu, all alone- months spent with the doctor and vampire, forgotten. That fear became a reality- one that you have the misfortune to be currently suffering through.

Half empty glass of red wine, in your left hand, and a partially chewed piece of dried goat meat in the other. Slumped over on your worn couch. Never quite felt this low before.

What ifs circle around the room, wondering if anything had been done even the slightest bit differently, perhaps you’d be cuddled between Vlad and Lisa right now.

“That was foolish.” He spits as his heavy steps approach from behind you.

“Dear-” Her attempt to calm him down was cut off by your own agitated voice.

“Foolish? No, what's foolish is your idea of danger!” Facing them now, eyes ablaze locking with Vlad’s. Lisa looks between you both, unsure who she should attempt to soothe first.

“You have no idea what you’re speaking of.”

Rolling your eyes was immature but impossible not to. There was no danger- not real danger anyway. He was the Vlad Dracula Tepes, a man who’s spent nearly his entire existence being hunted and attacked. Danger to him is any living mortal, except for the two standing next to him.

And while he’s overprotective of you and Lisa, taking a trip to visit your parents while he was away, isn’t breaking any laws.

He utters your name, making you reluctantly face him.

“I only wish to keep you safe.”

“Safe? We went to visit my family, Vlad. It was one night away.”

“It’s too dangerous to go out alone while I’m not here.”

“It was the middle of the day!”

“You were to stay in the castle until I returned, like I told you-” Poor word choice. Even Lisa cringes.

He’s Vlad Dracula Tepes, a name he wears with pride, like a cloak that he wraps around you and Lisa. The name alone enough to scare off any sane person, a name alone that keeps you both safe within the walls of his castle.

There are bad people out there- some not sane enough to avoid the castle. Some insane enough to actively seek out your home. And these are the monsters that Vlad fears. He knows he can crush any and all that dare cross him, but he can’t say the same for his two lovers.

Many nights spent snuggled close, bodies melded as one, hearing him whisper his deepest fears. Every night he clutches you both close- too tight- as if every hug might be his last. Human lives are fleeting, this much he knows. Fleeting, fragile, precious.

We’ll be here for as long as Lisa’s remedies keep you going. You remember whispering back to him one night. The warmth from his cold body and the sweet chuckle that left him, put your mind at ease. But did nothing to slacken his hold on you both.

Yet you’re a human being, and wear that with pride as well. Any day now might be the last time you’ll ever witness the sunrise. But isn’t that what makes everyday more special? Being caged away from danger might put Vlad’s mind at ease, but it makes you feel degraded. Something that can’t defend itself.

“Like you told me to? I am not your child nor your pet, Vlad.” Stomping out of the room, a pair of feet right on your heel.

“Of course not, even a child could comprehend a simple command.” It’s bitter and spoken with malice. Intent to hurt. It makes you stop cold.

“Excuse me?” The warning in your voice either goes right over his head, or he chooses to ignore it.

“You cannot fathom what monsters lurk in the shadows out there.”

“Oh I think I can.” Pause, enough time to swallow your next words. “Considering I’m looking at one right now.” Low blow, but spat out in a fit of rage.

If you weren’t so upset, the slight hurt that flashes across his face might have made you cave. Instead you continue stomping away, towards your room.

“What are you doing?” Lisa asks, referring to your haphazard bag packing, grabbing handfuls of clothes and shoving them away.

“Leaving.”

“But dinner is all ready…” Lisa’s sounds worried, scrambling to find the key words to make you stay.

“I lost my appetite.”

Pushing past them, they don’t follow you immediately, allowing you some distance. Once you're at the main door, they stand at the top of the steps.

Neither of them say anything.

That was almost three days ago, and you’ve convinced yourself that this lovely polyamorous relationship was now back down to two. Leaving you back in your empty cottage caring for plants that have been long neglected.

Books lay scattered across your limited floor space and various pieces of furniture.

You don’t remember life being this sad before you met them. It’s as if all you’ve ever known was Vlad and Lisa. Pretty sure that’s not healthy, but it’s true.

The light taps on the door are near vomit inducing, other people are the last thing on your ‘can’t deal with right now’ list.

Even your own parents seemed like too much right now. And once the large silhouette of Vlad’s body was visible from the sheer curtains blocking the window, the nausea was only doubled.

But despite the bile creeping up the back of your throat, the door opens and you greet your familiar visitors.

“Hey…” Is all you can muster, nerves getting the best of you. All the things you wanted to say, words are lost to you. Now that they stand before you, these past few days feel like eternities spent apart. But his voice brings dopamine rushing through you, without any effort.

“Good evening.” Pause. “May we come in?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Lisa rushes in and hugs you, squeezing the life out of you.

“Honey, I’ve missed you.” Pulling away, she tugs lightly at Vlad’s arm, “We’ve missed you.”

Vlad looks almost embarrassed, clearing his throat. “Yes, we have.”

If God were real, he must definitely be cruel. The seconds weigh heavy as you try not to suffocate from how awkward this silence is.

“I’m sor-” “I wante-”

The laugh from you both is genuine, some tensions relieved. But only slightly.

“You first.” You push- curiosity getting the best of you.

“I wanted to ask if you would please come back to the castle.”

Running your hands through your hair helps the sweat that's built up on your palms, but does nothing for the churning in your belly.

“Vlad…”

“If I crossed a line, I apologize.” Just like that.

“Thank you. And I really missed you both too.”

His gaze softens, shoulders relaxing at your declaration. And he practically melts when your hand finds his.

The person before you is no mere man- a being beyond mortal comprehension. An undead vampire longer than he was ever a human. But when he gazes at you with such fondness- you catch a glimpse of the man he used to be. Someone who needs the warm touch of the living, lest he forget he was ever alive.

“Vlad, I can’t find the right words to tell you how sorry I am.” Intertwining his fingers with yours- clutching him close. “I love you so much.”

If he feels the wetness dripping on his hand, he does nothing to show it. Head tilted towards the ground, heavy with shame. “You’re not a monster… You’re kind and brilliant, and- and…” Your sleeve stops the falling tears from wetting both your hands further.

A long clawed finger tilts your head up, admiring the raw emotion on your face.

“I was behaving rather poorly, I understand why you were upset.” Him being so dismissive of your behavior makes you feel even worse. His fear of losing you is preventing him from accepting a proper apology from you.

“My behavior was inexcusable, you don’t deserve any of the hateful things I said to you.” He’s leaning towards you, all you do is stand on your tiptoes to meet his lips. He’s pressing you against his chest, tongue tentatively pressing between your lips.

Lisa’s arms wrap around your waist, her chest to your back. She’s laying quick kisses on your nape, trailing around your neck like an invisible necklace.

Still standing in the small old cottage, but with these two - there’s a new warmth in the room.

#x reader #castlevania #writing request #taking commisions #commission #dracula x reader x lisa #vlad x reader x lisa #vlad x reader #lisa x reader #dracula x you #dracula x reader #fluff

676 notes · View notes

acesandocs · 4 months ago

Text

A fic i wrote that coincidentally got finished in time for @rudnitskaia's birthday so it technically counts as a birthday gift right? She's also known about it for a bit lol. Still I hope it brings you joy on your special day girl, happy birthday!

Theres only a small content warning for vomiting, otherwise this is pretty chill

The time was half past 8 and it was almost closing time. Mau swept along to the beat of the radio at the end of the hall. The restaurant had been quiet today, despite her hoping she might catch a glimpse of a certain blue clothed tabby. It seemed the day would end frustratingly dull. So because of the lack of customers she thought it couldn't hurt to close up early. She was done with the general cleaning, washing and counting the till, now all that was left was to sweep. She went through the restaurant broom in hand clearing up the last dust of the day. She was jolted out of her thoughts by a crash and cawing that sounded distinctly like a crow coming from outside.

‘’Oh great.’’ She sighed

Birds and other animals tended to slink around the building when the customers had left looking for scraps. She felt bad for them somewhat, they probably had little crow families to take care of and feed. But if there became to many of them it might become a caw-cophony. It was a good thing no one was around outside or they'd see the brown cat laughing only somewhat uncontrollably in in an empty restaurant.

Making her way to the front door holding her broom she hoped she wouldn't have to actually hurt the poor creatures. Looking outside sure enough there was a crow pecking at the trash waiting to be collected. She brandished her broom but just as she was about to approach the feathered scavenger it jumped down and jumped towards Mau having noticed a sizable piece of pizza crust stuck in the bristles of Mau’s broom. She jumped to the side startled but not because of the approaching avian.

As the crow had gotten closer a low squeak came from behind her to the left. She looked to where distinctly non-bird-like sound had come from, and saw a tortoiseshell cat practically trying to meld into the wall beside the door the way he was pushing his body back against the surface. His eyes boring into the crow watching its every move. As she was contemplating the tri-colored cat Mau hadn't noticed the crow getting closer. Before she had gotten the chance to shoo it away the mystery cat had thrown himself behind Mau crouching and holding on to his tail as to avoid any part of him being in direct view of the bird. She might have been frightened by his behavior but Mau had been around plenty of weird and quirky cats, she’d even say shes a bit odd herself. Turning back to the bird in hand she shook her broom but the crow wasn't giving up yet still focusing on the pizza crust that was being waved in his face. Mau shook the broom more fervently disloging the pizza crust and accidentally flinging it across the street the crow hopping close behind. Turning her attention to the cat crouched down beside her she offered him a hand. The tortie cat scrambled up acting like nothing had happened dusting himself off and readjusting his neckerchief.

‘’Ahem. Ehhh, thank you…’’ he said stiffly

The tortie had a noticeable accent tough Mau couldn't place it

‘’No problem at all, they come by all the time so I’m no stranger to wrangling up crows and sending them on their way.’’ Mau responded leaning her broom out one hand on her hip, just as relaxed as ever. It seemed to put the tortie cat at ease.

‘’Oh what is your name by the way’’

‘’Ås- ehm Ace. Like the card. Yes.’’

Ace anxiously looked around and stepped closer to Mau as he noticed the crow standing between him and his intended destination still munching on his well earned pizza crust.

‘’If you want you can come inside and wait until it leaves’’ said Mau gesturing towards the door of the restaurant.

She probably shouldn't let random strangers into the restaurant. Especially since she was technically closing but she felt a little bad for Ace, it probably wouldn't take long anyway.

‘’Ssssure but only because I need to rest my… legs anyway. you know, from all the uh wall inspecting.’’

‘’Wall inspecting?’’

Yes, that’s what I was doing before you came out. Looking at the walls checking for cracks and stuff.’’ He said nonchalantly. Trying to banish any indication that he was actually scared of the bird

Mau held back a snicker and responded ‘’Ah, I see. that is very important work, thank you for your service.’’ She punctuated the end of her sentence with a swift salute.

Ace blinked, a little caught off guard by her willingness to go along with his lie ‘’Ha well, yes I’m very good at my job. Just the other day I heard my boss speaking about making me the worker of the month’’ Ace said with confidently smirk, resting his hands on his hips

Mau thought he was pushing it now but couldn't help but be somewhat endeared. She opened the door and let Ace in.

‘’Sit down if you’d like or not, also do you want some water. All that wall inspecting must be exhausting work.’’

Ace took a seat by the bar and nodded. Leaning dramatically across the bar table resting a hand on his brow.

‘’Yes please, I’m wasting away…’’ adding on a few coughs to underline their performance

Mau gasped in mock distress as she hurried to the kitchen coming back out a few minutes later with a pitcher and two glasses. She poured equal amounts sliding one glass towards Ace which he happily accepted drinking half of it in one gulp.

In the light of the restaurant Mau could see Ace more clearly. She had assumed he was a man because of the way he dressed and seemingly short hair but she now noticed it looked more like a bob at least in the front. That along with is voice made him seem more androgynous.

The jovial atmosphere in the restaurant was interrupted as they saw A seagull had joined the crow outside fighting it for the pizza crust. Ace huffed, disappointed at the persistent presence of the crow. Mau attempted to lighten the mood

‘’We’re lucky there is only one or we might have had a murder on our hands’’ she said with a grin. Ace only looked at her, his expression hauntingly blank. Maybe she should have thought more about her audience before making that pun.

‘’Anyway’’ she said quickly trying to divert the conversation. ‘’I like your neckerchief where'd you get it.’’ Ace looked down still a bit unsettled by the pun but responded

‘’I made it’’

‘’What, really? it looks very professional’’

‘’Thank you’’ Ace moved his chin up so Mau could see it more clearly

‘’Where'd you learn to sew?’’ Mau asked

That made Ace pause ‘’Well…’’ it was difficult to open up about that particular subject, even if she wasn't talking to a total stranger. He looked at Mau and she gave him an encouraging nod. He didn't know why but he felt he could trust her. There was something about her that just made her easy to talk to. Despite the miscalculated pun.

‘’Me and my mom made most of our money that way when I was little’’ Ace didn't have the heart to elaborate further that that, Mau could tell and didn't push the subject further

‘’You know this is me and my father’s restaurant’’ Mau shared, hoping to find some common ground between them.

‘’That sounds nice, what do you make?’’

‘’Mostly Italian food, my father is usually the one working the kitchen. I do have a special pizza recipe I get to try out once in a while’’

‘’What is it?’’

Mau smirked proudly ‘’I call it sugary pizza’’ Putting her palms in front of her for emphasis

‘’That sounds… amazing’’

‘’Really?’’

‘’Yes! I mean pizza is fine but sweet pizza sounds super tasty, is it more like a pastry?’’

Mau thought for a moment. It was rare anyone wanted to hear about her experimental recipes and even rarer for someone to want to try them. She couldn't let this opportunity pass her by.

'' You know… I might have some leftovers somewhere I can heat up for you''

Ace leaned forward and spoke lowly, as if this was the most serious topic in existence.

‘’Heat me up a pizza.’’

She didn't need any more prompting. Retreating into the kitchen she got the oven ready to reheat the leftovers. A while later she placed a plate of sickeningly sweet pizza in front of Ace. He cut a piece and lifted it up in the air, inspecting it for a moment. It quickly disappeared into his mouth and the tortie cat chewed enthusiastically only to stop dead in his tracks. He slowly continued but his facial expression seemed to be changing rapidly from shock to fear to grief to acceptance, and swallowed it dutifully.

‘’So how is it?’’ Mau asked hesitantly

‘’Amazing…’’ he said with a strained voice

Mau only looked at him raising her eyebrow ‘’really?’’

‘’Never tasted anything better’’ he continued though Mau could hear him gagging. She reached for a paper bag she had brought just in case this scenario played out. She handed it to Ace just in time as he hunched over and wretched into it.

Mau cleaned up the reheated sugary cuisine, when she returned from the kitchen a third time Ace had finished and was leaning on the table

‘’Are you ok now?’’

‘’I guess. I’m sorry for throwing up your sugary pizza’’ he said dejectedly

Mau waved it of both figuratively and literally. ‘’ It’s nothing to say sorry for. You tried it at least.‘’

''I thought it tasted good; I promise. It was just the way it felt in my mouth that just… ugh’’ he said with a shudder.

Mau chuckled ‘’Maybe you can taste some of my father’s cooking, huh? It tends to go over better with people.’’

‘’I’d like that’’

Ace looked towards the window and noticed the road outside the restaurant was finally free of crows. Mau noticed the same.

‘’Aha, there we go. Now you can get home safely’’

‘’Trust me you’re never truly safe from… them’’ he said ominously. Ace had seemingly let go of trying to make it look like he wasn't scared of the black feathered corvids. ‘’But I think I'll manage’’

‘’If you say so, will you come back some time? I can probably get you a discount.’’

Ace grinned ear to ear ‘’Absolutely’’ he said as they shook hands. Mau saw him of at the door, and bid him farewell. There seemed there were no shortage of eccentric cats in st Louis, she thought to herself as she saw Ace disappear into the night of the city.

Theres not much historical stuff to mention here.

The only thing I did considerable research on was how trash would be disposed of in the 1920s. As far as I found it seems trash would be lined up by the road and trash cars/wagons would come and collect everything taking it to a secondary location to be disposed of.

Heldig also provided me with a map of Mau and her fathers restaurant Upon my request so I could plan things out.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy oc #writing #my writing #art #my art #my oc #other people's oc #maura venza #Åse ''ace'' olaug Årud

35 notes · View notes

finalgirlrick · 2 years ago

Text

Ain’t It Easy

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Reader (prison era)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none I think, just fluff.

A/N: this is my first ever fic & I've had it done for weeks but I've been terrified to post it lmao. might be my first and my last fic but i hope someone out there likes it lol. pretty common trope, but reader has trouble sleeping & stuff commences. there is a rick grimes fic drought which is simply unacceptable, that man is too hot. shoutout @weretheones & @normanplusdaryl for reading over it & motivating me to finally post it :') also, i named this after a random song & it probably makes no sense.

You were no stranger to insomnia. Even before the world went to shit, you often found yourself tossing and turning endlessly until you could see the first glimpse of sunrise. It only got worse after the fall. Now in your cold prison cell, with the threat of growling blood-hungry walkers right outside, the ability to get a good night’s rest felt even more like a fantasy.

It was impossible to know what time it was. And who cared anymore anyway? There were more important things to worry about. All you knew is that you were fed up with trying to get rest when your mind and body clearly had other plans. You could only lay on your thin prison mattress and stare at the ceiling for so long. If sleep deprivation was how you died, so be it. You were done trying.

So you decided to take a walk around the prison, careful not to wake anyone and envying all of the people that were able to get a few hours of peace. The bags under your eyes proved that this was something you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. Daryl’s loud snores almost stopped you in your tracks, but onwards you went past the other's cells. Reassuring yourself that everyone in your group was safe was a welcome distraction from the weight of your heavy eyelids. You found yourself zoning out while taking in the details of the prison when a sudden whisper made your body jolt upright.

“Everything alright?” said the raspy southern drawl that you would recognize anywhere. Rick. He was carrying his newborn daughter, Judith, seemingly lulling her to sleep. “Yeah, just going for a walk,” you said with a chuckle, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Somehow, whenever you were around the leader you couldn’t help but turn into an awkward babbling mess.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked looking up at you with a gaze that made you feel like he could see right through you. There was no use in lying, standing in front of him you lost all of your willpower. You looked down at the ground, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you answered — “Nope.” You felt a strange sense of embarrassment. At what exactly? You didn’t really know. Or maybe you were just ignoring it, knowing that whatever stupid feelings you were having were to be kept buried deep. At least the prison was dark enough to mask it.

“Judith couldn’t either, just knocked out almost this second,” he responded, flashing you a smile that made you just about melt. There was a subtle shift in his expression, as his gaze once again moved to Judith. “Yeah…I’ve been having trouble sleeping too ever since - ,” he stopped himself mid-sentence. You looked at him in understanding, unsure of what to say. There was really nothing to say in these situations. You knew that all too well.

Swallowing his emotions down, he urged you to go inside his cell with a simple hand movement. He put Judith down into the small crib that Glenn and Maggie scavenged a few weeks ago, where she lay soundly asleep. An awkward silence filled the room, broken only when Rick suggested, “Try sleeping here.” Although, with his authoritative demeanor that always captivated you, it sounded more like a gentle order.

You felt your eyes widen in shock and almost immediately, you explained to him that you couldn’t possibly do that. You didn’t want to bother him, and honestly, your lack of sleep wasn’t that much of a big deal anyway. But he interrupted all of your excuses by repeating again, “Try.” And it was hard to say no with the look he was giving you. When he so carefully explained to you how it is a big deal, and how your well-being is of grave importance to the group. You didn’t necessarily agree, but hearing the words from his mouth felt good, and the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him.

“You’re scared,” he said as he sat down in a chair a few steps away from his bed, where you now sat anxiously. “What?” you snapped on impulse, quickly regretting it. “Of everything outside the walls,” he whispered shaking his head. “All of it,” he continued. “Not just the walkers, everything out there we don’t know about. That’s why you can’t sleep. And I get it, I do.” You took notice of the way his wet curls framed his face and moved as he spoke. How there was genuine concern for you in his bright blue eyes.

Maybe he was right, you told him. But what was the solution? This was life now. Rest wasn’t ever going to come easy again. Not for you. Until he proposed you with a plan. He would stay awake alongside you as you tried to drift off for the millionth time tonight, in an attempt to make you feel safe enough to do so. It didn’t hurt to try it, he reiterated. And so, you agreed.

With a swift tilt of his head he encouraged you to lay down on his mattress, and although you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were invading his privacy and robbing him of well-deserved rest — you swore you never felt more comfortable. And it certainly wasn’t because his bed was of better quality than yours, or because the temperature of the room was just right. His presence was a comfort, and goddammit he was right — maybe this was all that you needed after all. To feel safe. To have someone near you that made you feel safe. As you closed your eyes, you eventually felt the world fade away and finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

In the morning, while gearing up for your shift at the fences you recalled a memory - or, perhaps a dream - of feeling a hand tuck a strand of hair behind your ear at some point during the night. But there was no use in entertaining silly fantasies, back to work you went.

#this is so scary & also the most cringe thing i've ever done probably #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes fanfic #andrew lincoln #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #rick grimes / reader #rick grimes / you #rick grimes twd #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes angst #the walking dead fanfiction

752 notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 11 months ago

Text

Falling Part Three | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Lana and Jae get closer and you ask Jimin for advice on how to deal with her while also trying to rationalize why Jungkook would be on earth Pairing: Angel f!reader x Fallen Angel Jungkook Word Count: 2.9k~ Warnings: Talks about doubting God and questioning why he let's bad things happen to people on earth as well as leaving heaven to join the devil. This is not meant to be harmful to any religion and I don't want to cause any doubt in God or your faith so if you feel that would affect you then please do not read. Nothing super in depth but still wanted to preface it with this. a/n: I finished this and immediately posted it after some rough editing but I wanted to get it out asap lol hope you guys like it!

Once Lana is done for the day I keep my head on a swivel trying to see if I can catch a glimpse of Jungkook anywhere. Is he a student? He has to be a student right? The only way he would materialize would be if the person he was assigned to has already turned 18. He couldn't possibly be a teacher because I would've noticed by now. Meaning he's highly likely to be in his Senior year just like Lana. There are so many kids here though, how am I going to figure out which students have turned 18 recently?

"Lana!" I hear her name being called from across the hall by that same boy from before. "Oh Jae! Are you all done for the day too?" she asks clearly wanting to see if they would be getting off at the same time for future reference. "Yeah I just finished, did you drive here?" he asks curious as well to see if she would need a ride home most days. "No, my mom dropped me off. I usually just hang around school for a bit and do some homework until she gets off work and comes to get me" she explains.

"Oh okay, well if you want I could give you a ride?" he offers, clearly insinuating something else but it seems to be in a playful manner more than anything. "That's okay, she's already planning on picking me up today. Rain check?" she asks hopeful he won't feel bad about her shooting him down.

"Sure. Would it be okay if I kept you company until she does?" he questions, she smiles and nods which seems to uplift his spirits again which is good in her mind. "Cool" he says and follows her lead to one of the table outside in the courtyard near the area her mom picks her up at.

"So, how are you liking things so far?" she questions, hoping to find something that they can talk about for a while. "It was a pretty seamless transition thankfully. All of my credits transferred so I didn't have to worry about trying to make up for the ones that didn't" he answers. "That's great! Scrambling to make those up before graduation would've been really difficult" she cringes just thinking about the potential of being held back.

"Plus the students here are really nice, and one girl in particular has caught my eye" he teases, messing with the strap on her bag, almost shy to admit. "Oh yeah? And who might that be?" she questions, catching me off guard. 'Where the heck did she learn how to flirt? And why is she already good at it?' I think to myself.

"Oh, just this really smart, cute and funny girl that I met. I bumped into her on accident today though so I'm not really sure if she likes me or not" he continues. "Are you sure it was on accident?" she teases. 'What the heck Lana! Why aren't you the shy awkward girl I know you to be anymore?' I think to myself now slightly panicking. 'She must really like this boy so far if she's had a sudden change of character just to entertain his advances. This isn't good'.

After getting home her mom finally takes note of how differently she's acting. She calls out for her and Lana simply hums to show she's listening. "Did something happen at school today?" she asks, also a little worried about her. 'Thank God I'm not the only one' I chime in in my head. If this guy wasn't dressed like the definition of trouble I might not be this concerned but I can't help the slight panic I'm starting to feel.

"No, not really" she say and makes her way up to her room, with me following close behind. "Hey come back down when dinner is ready! No skipping meals today" he mom yells after her. "Yes mom" she responds and closes her door right after the words leave her mouth.

Jae: Did you get home safe?

Lana: Yeah just walked in. Did you?

Jae: Yeah I did. What are your plans for the rest of the day?

Lana: Nothing really. I've got some homework to do but other than that I'm pretty much free. Why?

Jae: I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a drive

She pauses for a second and thinks about it. She's nervous but excited, that's for sure but I really really hope she'll say no. She knows that she isn't supposed to be hanging out with anyone, let alone a boy she just met after curfew. 'Please Lana, please but smart about this' I pray, not wanting to add another sin to her tally of not obeying the rules set out for her.

Lana: Oh I don't know, I'm not supposed to be out late on a school night

'Yes Lana! Good girl!' I rejoice. Hopefully he won't push her too much, but I don't blame him for trying, Lana is a very pretty girl.

Jae: It's probably because we don't know each other well too huh?

Lana: Yeah that too

Jae: It's okay I get it

Lana: But if you're free we could talk on the phone? That way we can get to know each other a bit better :)

Jae: Sure

*Jae would like to FaceTime*

"I said call, not FaceTime" she panics out loud while looking at herself in the mirror before pressing accept.

"I said we could talk on the phone" she says frustrated at being caught off guard. "Are we not talking on the phone?" his voice resounds on loud since Lana hasn't put her Airpods in yet. "Well...yes" "Then what's the problem Pretty?" he says with a half smile, watching as her eyes widen at the pet name.

"Why did you call me that?" she asks, biting her lip to keep a smile from cracking while occupying herself with finding her Airpods so her mom doesn't hear him. "Because you're pretty" he says with (not gonna lie) a gorgeous smile. Lana better be careful because I feel like this one is ready to break her heart. Once she finally finds them she puts them in and continues their conversation which I thankfully am still able to hear.

"Is it okay if I call you Pretty?" he surprisingly asks for permission. "As long and I'm the only one you're calling that then yeah I guess so" she says and I can feel her heart racing in anticipation to see what his response might be. "Who else would I call Pretty, Pretty? If I've got you I don't need anyone else" he says, his words sweet as honey warm up her skin.

"You think you've got me?" she says raising a brow at him. 'Okay Lana, you've still got some fight in you' I'm glad to see she's not playing into his games too quickly. If I were her I would have this guy be putty in my hands before I let him call me anything. 'I- nope I'm not her. Yep, we're just gonna. Uh huh let's give her some privacy' I think to myself and quickly call Jimin to ask for advice.

"Hey! Long time no see" he says when his hologram pops up. "Yeah sorry I've been really busy with Lana. A new boy just stepped in the scene and I'm not really sure what I should do to help protect her" I say and watch as he takes in the information and thinks on it for a second. "Lana has been a really good girl right? She's been respectful and honest and follows the rules, does well in school, all of that stuff right?" he asks listing off the things I've told him about before.

"Yes, all of those are still true but I'm nervous. This Jae guy is a capital T for Trouble and I know I'm not supposed to judge but I have to discern on what exactly I'm supposed to do here. Plus her birthday is next month so hopefully I'll be materializing that day if things go according to God's plan" I say, reminding both him and myself of the sort of situation we're dealing with.

"You also have to remember she's still a teenager. Teenagers are supposed to grow up and mess up and get their hearts broken if life takes them down that path. It's perfectly normal for her to like a guy and for him to like her back. It's something new since she really hasn't shown any true interest in boys so I understand how you're feeling but just pray and watch over her. That's all you can really do until her birthday and hopefully by then you'll be able to actually help guide her if she's open to it" he says.

Now that I think about it, I have been super on edge with her recently, even before Jae came around. Maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion. "Just watch, wait, and gather information about how their relationship grows and changes in these next few weeks so you're able to figure out a game plan before you materialize alright?" he finishes and I take it all into account.

"Another weird thing happened today, my bracelet lit up when Lana and I were at school" I relay and I can see his face go from confused, to excited, to scared as well as a whole other range of emotions that I can't quite identify. "How could he even be there? Do you think he's materialized as someone's fallen angel? Are there even kids that are that bad at her school? I thought you said she was at a good one?" he asks, just as confused as I am.

"Doesn't mean there aren't a couple of bad eggs lost in the mix" I say, sitting down on Lana's bed to hopefully relax for a bit. "The only way that my bracelet would light up would be if he was in the same realm, correct?" I ask him to which he nods. "And when you fall you become a fallen angel, right?" to which he nods again. "So after all of these years there is still a possibility that he could've been assigned to be someone's fallen angel. Their bad influence so to say, right?" I finish. "Well yeah, but the odds of that are slim. Usually the angels who have fallen are left as slaves and can't come out of hell even if they tried" he explains.

"Yeah but Jungkook's different, you and I both know that. He could've been taken under someones wing, for lack of a better term. They could've seen potential and drive in him. Plus his brother is there, he fell during the war between angels so he's been there since the very beginning. He could've found out that Jungkook had fallen and got him whatever job he wanted" I finish, showing Jimin the possibilities that could've caused our paths to cross again.

Maybe all these years he's been leading people straight into the arms of Lucifer. I can't even imagine the horrors he's gone through or worse, taken part in or caused on his own. "Did you see him?" he asks the question that I knew he has been itching to ask. I shake my head and let it fall "I tried looking around but Lana had to get to class so I was stuck with her in there for an hour. When we left I kept on looking as best as I could to find him but he wasn't there". "Maybe try again tomorrow? You'll find him don't worry" Jimin reassures me and we end our call soon after that.

I check up on Lana's call and it seems like they haven't gotten up to too much mischief, just some harmless flirting here and there. "Lana! Dinner!" we both hear her mom yell. "Hey I have to go but I'll see you at school tomorrow okay?" she says, rushing to finish up so her mom doesn't get too suspicious. "Alright, goodnight Pretty" he says in a teasing tone that gives her butterflies in her stomach. "Goodnight Jae" she responds and quickly hangs up the phone before rushing downstairs.

The next day at school Jae finds Lana in the same hallway they had met in and comes right up to her and swoops up her books again. "Hey!" she protests, trying to get them back just like yesterday. "Hello to you too Pretty" he says chuckling at her. "You really don't have to do that" she says crossing her arms awkwardly while they repeat the same steps they had done yesterday. "I know, but I want to. How did you sleep?" he questions glancing over at her while they continue on their journey.

"I slept alright, what about you?" she asks looking at him and just now noticing the dark circles under his eyes. "I slept like a baby" he responds, clearly lying. "Are you sure? Because those bags under your eyes are telling a different story" she teases, trying not to prod but being open to the discussion. "Well for the amount of time that I did sleep, I slept like a baby" he chuckles and they continue on down the hallway.

Once they reach the classroom they do the same as before, hanging out right outside to talk when she notices a cut and a slight bruise on his cheekbone that she hadn't seen before since she had been walking on the opposite side of him. "Jae what happened?" she asks clearly concerned and on instinct grabbing his opposite cheek to keep him in place so she can inspect it.

"It's nothing don't worry about it" he says taking her hand off his face gently and toying with her fingers. "It's clearly not nothing. Does it hurt?" she asks with her brows knitted together while she brings her other hand up and traces the area with a feather light touch. He flinches and hisses as if she's hurt him and she gets even more concerned before she realizes he's joking. "Don't do that! I'm worried about you" she says pushing on one of his shoulders a bit to which he hisses out in true pain.

"Jae oh my gosh I'm so sorry. I-" she starts but stops when he places one of his hands on her cheek. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine" he says and makes purposeful eye contact with her, to which she decides to just look towards the floor after a second and nods, not asking any further. "Hey" he says and brings her chin back up to look at him again "Just trust me okay?" he asks and she just nods again in response.

"I need words Pretty" he says using that pet name with her again, making her eyes widen a bit. "Okay" she agrees, "Okay what?" he says tilting his head at her in amusement, teasing to get a smile out of her. "Okay I trust you" she says, giving him that smile he was searching for. "There she is" he says, referring to her normal playful self.

"Let's head inside okay?" he suggests and she grabs her books from him before he make moves to even push off of the wall he had been leaning against. He tries to reach out for them but she gives him a stern look telling him not to push his luck with her. "Alright alright fine" he says holding his hands up and decides to walk behind her when they walk into the classroom and follows her over to her desk.

"Can I walk you to your next class?" he asks when she sits down and she nods in agreement but she shies away when he raises a brow at her. "Yes Jae I would love it if you walked me to class" she says and at that he gives her a half smile and runs a thumb over her cheek before he heads off to his seat.

"My brain is total mush right now" Jae says as they finish up the lesson. "Oh come on it wasn't that bad" Lana laughs and shakes her head as they make their way over to her next class. "Hey Jae!" we all hear a voice say from behind. Even before his voice met my ears my bracelet lit up "Oh hey, give me a minute I'm just gonna walk Lana to her class" Jae says as they continue on down the hallway. "Okay, we'll be outside" he says and even though my head is telling me not to my heart has a mind of it's own making me turn to face him.

The first thing my eyes land on is his bracelet that he seems to be fiddling with, him looking as confused as I was yesterday. No longer gold but it still sits on his wrist, beaten and tarnished so much so that it has turned into a dark matte black. Another reminder of how far he's fallen, as if his appearance and demeanor wasn't enough.

He's dressed just like Jae, with piercings and those same burnt and twisted branches as well, his woven through other various tattoos on one of his arms of all shapes and sizes, a particular one catching my eye. He takes a look around to see if he could possibly catch sight of me but fallen angels can't see other angels until they too materialize. I can't help the few tears that fall from the shock of the state he's in especially when he heads back outside to a group of other guys dressed just like them.

What are Jae and Jungkook involved in? And why for God's sake did he have to choose Lana?

prev / next

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie @hehurst23 @caro134340lina @ye0nvibezzn @olimpiiaa @hrtsj1m @junecat18 @ellesalazar @babycandy111 @junniesoleilkth @gyeomibearr @timorousvariance97

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

60 notes · View notes